05-14-2016, 08:58 PM
Dacia
Jamie x Astri
“Oh disaster,” She thinks, watching the hushed mare with nameless fixation, “why must you be so beautiful?”
They regard each other now with full and complete knowledge. In Dacia’s eyes there is a brokenness that leaks the pain she cannot outwardly express, while Malis molds herself to a stony sort of disposition. In her mind, she holds herself up against the blue mare, looking over every angle and corner to try and discern where the two meet and where the two most differentiate. Was it her horns that Killdare had found so intriguing? Or perhaps that odd shade of color? Perhaps it was the way her legs fit just so into the angle of her hips, that curve of skin she now pictures his bay nose running slowly across. In the end she decides that it must be their intelligence.
Yes, Killdare must have thought that Malis was certainly more intelligent than she. Why else would he not tell her? He must’ve thought her so stupid, or stupid enough, to think that she would be so blind as to not see the connection between their children. Victra and Hellbane. Hellbane and Victra. Sister and brother. Brother and sister. Blood of her blood. “Kill me.” She wants to reply, dumb mouth unable to form the words. “Take your horns and aim true, sister. Strike under the rib, just here - I’ll show you. Wrench them free and let my life spill out onto the forest floor.”
The pain would be a welcome friend to the feeling that numbs her now.
But where (please, can anyone tell her where?) does the blame lie if not upon herself? Does she saddle Killdare with it, for being led by passion and not honor? No - the same devil lies in Lupei and that same devil will lie in Hellbane, a curse on all men. If she points a finger at him, she dooms her own family in the same sentence. So, then, does she blame the reticent paramour? Wasn’t it her doleful gaze and her honeyed words that first drew Killdare into the serpents den? Wasn’t it her body she offered up to him and wasn’t it her body that stood here now, as if she’d always belonged here?
No.
No, no, and no. There is no blame, only choice. Right now, it’s the countless choices that overwhelm Dacia as she tries so very hard to dam the threat of tears. She blinks, rapidly, vision blurring while her tongue turns to lead in her mouth. Her son eases forward as Victra is drawn back into the protection of her dam’s side, stretching out his neck so that his nose briefly alights on her tucked wings. “Mama.” He says, the sound floating up to Dacia and she thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard. “Mama they’re just like Mortal’s.” He notes. The tender mother of twins holds Malis in her sight while the silence stretches out between them, and then she makes a choice.
“Yes, Hellbane.” She agrees, stepping ahead with shaking legs. “They are.” A tepid smile flickers over her lips, breaking through the sorrow and betrayal that would otherwise drown her. They are nothing if they are divided, and without the both of them Killdare will cease to be what he is. Without Killdare there is no Chamber and without the Chamber, Dacia will truly have nothing. Now - if she concentrates on it - her joys will only multiply if she lets them, if she can be brave. Dacia and Malis. Malis and Dacia. Lover of my Lover. The green mare gathers what little strength remains and finally looks away from what could have been her adversary to instead gaze wondrously over the curious children. “Welcome to the Chamber, little Victra.” She says, head tilting so that she can glance back at the indigo mare. The pain is not so sharp the second time around. “And welcome home, Malis.” She says, not yet fully understanding how very, very true the statement was.
They regard each other now with full and complete knowledge. In Dacia’s eyes there is a brokenness that leaks the pain she cannot outwardly express, while Malis molds herself to a stony sort of disposition. In her mind, she holds herself up against the blue mare, looking over every angle and corner to try and discern where the two meet and where the two most differentiate. Was it her horns that Killdare had found so intriguing? Or perhaps that odd shade of color? Perhaps it was the way her legs fit just so into the angle of her hips, that curve of skin she now pictures his bay nose running slowly across. In the end she decides that it must be their intelligence.
Yes, Killdare must have thought that Malis was certainly more intelligent than she. Why else would he not tell her? He must’ve thought her so stupid, or stupid enough, to think that she would be so blind as to not see the connection between their children. Victra and Hellbane. Hellbane and Victra. Sister and brother. Brother and sister. Blood of her blood. “Kill me.” She wants to reply, dumb mouth unable to form the words. “Take your horns and aim true, sister. Strike under the rib, just here - I’ll show you. Wrench them free and let my life spill out onto the forest floor.”
The pain would be a welcome friend to the feeling that numbs her now.
But where (please, can anyone tell her where?) does the blame lie if not upon herself? Does she saddle Killdare with it, for being led by passion and not honor? No - the same devil lies in Lupei and that same devil will lie in Hellbane, a curse on all men. If she points a finger at him, she dooms her own family in the same sentence. So, then, does she blame the reticent paramour? Wasn’t it her doleful gaze and her honeyed words that first drew Killdare into the serpents den? Wasn’t it her body she offered up to him and wasn’t it her body that stood here now, as if she’d always belonged here?
No.
No, no, and no. There is no blame, only choice. Right now, it’s the countless choices that overwhelm Dacia as she tries so very hard to dam the threat of tears. She blinks, rapidly, vision blurring while her tongue turns to lead in her mouth. Her son eases forward as Victra is drawn back into the protection of her dam’s side, stretching out his neck so that his nose briefly alights on her tucked wings. “Mama.” He says, the sound floating up to Dacia and she thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard. “Mama they’re just like Mortal’s.” He notes. The tender mother of twins holds Malis in her sight while the silence stretches out between them, and then she makes a choice.
“Yes, Hellbane.” She agrees, stepping ahead with shaking legs. “They are.” A tepid smile flickers over her lips, breaking through the sorrow and betrayal that would otherwise drown her. They are nothing if they are divided, and without the both of them Killdare will cease to be what he is. Without Killdare there is no Chamber and without the Chamber, Dacia will truly have nothing. Now - if she concentrates on it - her joys will only multiply if she lets them, if she can be brave. Dacia and Malis. Malis and Dacia. Lover of my Lover. The green mare gathers what little strength remains and finally looks away from what could have been her adversary to instead gaze wondrously over the curious children. “Welcome to the Chamber, little Victra.” She says, head tilting so that she can glance back at the indigo mare. The pain is not so sharp the second time around. “And welcome home, Malis.” She says, not yet fully understanding how very, very true the statement was.
Color-Changing Vixen of the Chamber