Quand on n'a que l'amour - Wound

[wound]

D espite the power of words, touch holds its own special control. Wound’s known the voice of touch even in the days of her youth, spent among the decomposing leaves and slender shoulders of her brothers. In the silence of the abandoned forests, sometimes a day would go by where no words were uttered aloud, but the band of siblings still communicated. Simple touches on the shoulder, nose-to-nose contact, light huffs of air across baby-fuzz — the quiet of the forests would absorb the thoughts of their minds and silence the sound of their mouths. So she accepts Amorette’s shoulder with a compassionate heart, content to whisper a warm breath of comfort against her friend’s neck. They are two women — two mothers — standing on the shore of their home with the waves tossing against their feet and the heaviness of life upon their hearts. Wound listens quietly to the dark mare’s admissions, including the announcement of her stay at Tephra, with a tender expression on her silver face. “I’m glad to know you’re going to stay,” she says. Her voice is soft and quiet, the tune of a mother’s lullaby against her child’s young ears. Although she has no reason to tend to Amorette in this way, her empathetic soul longs to comfort until the tears have dried. Her stomach drops when the mentioning of Byrne’s father comes about. She doesn’t know of the man very well — Levi’s abandonment of Tephra happened not long after her own arrival — but she’s heard of the fire-slathered stallion. A soft sigh leaves Wound’s lungs, pushing the tension away from her chest and out into the warm air. “Don’t worry, Amorette. I will always be here for you, no matter what.” Although those words have been empty promises on many lips, they are as true as the stars in the sky upon her own. She touches her mouth again to her friend’s neck, a platonic kiss from silver lips to dark crest. And so they stand, two mothers with waves against their feet and heaviness — but also warmth for the future — upon their hearts.

credit to nat of adoxography.

@[Amorette]