the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana

[exist]

while collecting the stars, I connected the dots.
I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not.

She is alone in a far corner of Tephra, hidden away near the northernmost shores where few ever come. The islands beyond are hazy in the distance, have always seemed wild and unlivable, forgotten, and so this near corner is quiet. It is peaceful, too, with so much ocean around her, with the spray of sea-mist to keep her damp and cool when she is always too hot, always exhausted. More often than not her days are spent in this water, waded out until the ocean carries the weight of her belly, until, when she turns her head to look, she cannot see the swollenness of her barrel sunk beneath the surface.

It had been subtle at first, confusing when the weight first started sticking. There were no seasons in Tephra, no winter, no reason for her body to store so much fat. But it had, and had continued to do so for many months until finally she began to understand. She had hid it at first with her wings, full and feathery and pressed to her sides when eyes were watching, shy in her uncertainty, in her youth, but not in regret. She even hid it from Leliana though, her sister, her twin, the better half of her wild soul.

It was in recent months when the weight had doubled, recent weeks when the weight had dropped, that she reached inside with a tendril of healing magic to check the one heart, two hearts that beat inside her belly. It was an incredible kind of agony, realizing that she and Mandan had created life together, realizing that she couldn’t tell the stranger lest she add more weight to those beautiful, broken shoulders. She wanted to, would have unearthed those woods to find him again, to curl against his chest in the same way that had led her to this moment, now. But hadn’t she already been greedy enough, selfish in her affection when he had tried many times to push her away? So instead she hid from him, guilty, missing him, but with no right to find him again.

She wanders the shore today, wading in water that reaches half-way up her ribs, water that helps carry the weight that presses aches and soreness into those long, slender legs. There is something different about today, an inexplicable longing in her chest and she wanders further than she normally would, following the northwest border until it bent out into the ocean again. She should turn back – the splash of water against an enormous belly was reminder enough of that, but instead she pressed hesitantly forward, leaving the security of the ocean behind for the wildlife of deeper Tephra.

Her wings move reflexively to cover her belly, though this time it is defensively (a new instinct she is discovering) instead of to hide it. Her wings are smooth dragon leather, dark copper with hints of red and flecks of gold, marked at the bends with long, curving talons. They do little to hide the sway of her barrel, wide where it hangs visibly on either side of an otherwise small apricot figure, but they are sharp and they are menacing, and it is all she needs.

When she clears a small forest, thick and tangled with tree and vine and swaying leaf, it is just in time to see Leliana turn from Canaan to look out across a horizon and in her direction. Her breath stills in her chest, startled, and for a moment she is only unmoving, carved from copper, cold and elegant, wild in her beauty. But then those eyes find her, pick her out from the surrounding green and Exist it stumbling forward on tired legs, her belly swaying in and out beneath the cover of those dark wings.

She wants to crash against Leliana as Leliana had crashed against Canaan, wants to curl against his side as she had done a hundred times before in their youth. But something holds her back and away, something that tucks those wings flush against the deep wideness of her belly, something that forces her pale green eyes from their faces, from the judgment she deserves because of anyone, they will know best of all that she has no right being a mother. Leliana moreso than Canaan, Leliana moreso because she will understand this fear, may carry it in her own chest. Victra should not have been a mother, either.

When her eyes return to their faces, bashful and uncertain, she is silent, wordless, taking another hesitant step forward and pulling her wings up and against her back because she will hide nothing from them, not them. Not Canaan, never Leliana. “I-“ She starts and stops, looking first at Leliana and then shifting to trace the incredulity she expects to find in Canaan’s face. For a moment her face changes, darkens with something unnamable, but she catches herself and looks away again, back to Leliana and the safety of her kind, beautiful face. “It’s really good to see you guys.” She says finally, still soft, still uncertain, still desperate to be pressed against them and in the safety of their embrace, to let their light push back the shadows of her loneliness. “I missed you.”

Exist