08-27-2017, 01:15 AM
As he looks at her, he wonders how he could ever have deserved her…
How, in all this, could he have found her - so understanding, so resilient, so damn beautiful that no sunrise nor sunset or sea froth could compare to the mare that stood before him, having just pushed not one but two foals from her sweaty sore loins and above all else, she looked at him like he was the only one in the world for her.
(He looked at her the way a starving man looks at his first meal - hungry, desperate, thankful, disbelieving.)
Damp with sweat and exhausted, she had never looked more beautiful to him.
Not true, his fire-laden heart whispers to him as he thinks back to the moment he first laid eyes on her upon the shoreline. She’d been damp then too, from the sea’s own spit and the wind had whipped her hair all around her in small ragged pale flags that snapped and fluttered. She’d been every inch as beautiful then as she is now, and he wonders how his heart has yet to burst from all the love filling it.
He can feel her kiss, feel her go quiet beside him and the burning orbs of fire start to dim just a little. The cave needs little light now, or warmth as he stands beside her and breathes in her scent unable to stop the light fluttering of his nostrils against his skin as he trails his nose from her cheek to her neck and nibbles tenderly at the slope of her shoulder. Spear could stay this way forever, pressed tight against her, nose to neck and her nose to jaw - so quiet, so content, so full of love… and their foals nestled in close to them, but she asks him what they should call them and he laughs, because yes, they need names! Good strong names!
Spear pulls back just the slightest to regard the pair of foals that stare wonderingly at the fiery orbs; smiling, he changes their shape from fat little balls to long-legged little foals that run and buck along the rocky walls. He can hear them gasp as one, much like how Spark and him used to be, but he spares her the slightest thought as his eyes lift from the delighted pair to well, his beloved. He feels it, thinks it, and it settles deep in his bones - deeper than the fire and the magic of it can go, and he just feels something terribly right in that moment as he takes in the sight of her just behind the wide-eyed colt and his sister. Antonia. Her name is a breath of welcome wind in his mind and he smiles at her.
“Iron,” he gestures to the boy.
“and Wine,” he nods to the girl.
All he kept hearing was the wind sigh her name in his ears, in the pathways of heart and blood - Antonia, Antonia, Antonia, and he knew he’d never be the same again and Spear was okay with that - happy even, happy to smile at her and their children and rub his nose against her cheek in the full bliss of being in love.
How, in all this, could he have found her - so understanding, so resilient, so damn beautiful that no sunrise nor sunset or sea froth could compare to the mare that stood before him, having just pushed not one but two foals from her sweaty sore loins and above all else, she looked at him like he was the only one in the world for her.
(He looked at her the way a starving man looks at his first meal - hungry, desperate, thankful, disbelieving.)
Damp with sweat and exhausted, she had never looked more beautiful to him.
Not true, his fire-laden heart whispers to him as he thinks back to the moment he first laid eyes on her upon the shoreline. She’d been damp then too, from the sea’s own spit and the wind had whipped her hair all around her in small ragged pale flags that snapped and fluttered. She’d been every inch as beautiful then as she is now, and he wonders how his heart has yet to burst from all the love filling it.
He can feel her kiss, feel her go quiet beside him and the burning orbs of fire start to dim just a little. The cave needs little light now, or warmth as he stands beside her and breathes in her scent unable to stop the light fluttering of his nostrils against his skin as he trails his nose from her cheek to her neck and nibbles tenderly at the slope of her shoulder. Spear could stay this way forever, pressed tight against her, nose to neck and her nose to jaw - so quiet, so content, so full of love… and their foals nestled in close to them, but she asks him what they should call them and he laughs, because yes, they need names! Good strong names!
Spear pulls back just the slightest to regard the pair of foals that stare wonderingly at the fiery orbs; smiling, he changes their shape from fat little balls to long-legged little foals that run and buck along the rocky walls. He can hear them gasp as one, much like how Spark and him used to be, but he spares her the slightest thought as his eyes lift from the delighted pair to well, his beloved. He feels it, thinks it, and it settles deep in his bones - deeper than the fire and the magic of it can go, and he just feels something terribly right in that moment as he takes in the sight of her just behind the wide-eyed colt and his sister. Antonia. Her name is a breath of welcome wind in his mind and he smiles at her.
“Iron,” he gestures to the boy.
“and Wine,” he nods to the girl.
All he kept hearing was the wind sigh her name in his ears, in the pathways of heart and blood - Antonia, Antonia, Antonia, and he knew he’d never be the same again and Spear was okay with that - happy even, happy to smile at her and their children and rub his nose against her cheek in the full bliss of being in love.