04-07-2015, 01:10 AM
Daemron comes quickly to her summons, but the moments Trekk and Noori spend pressing themselves together remind the mare of so many things she has forgotten in wake of the magician, of the rapist, of her children. These passionate caresses have been erased from her memory in the light of things far too intricate for her to understand. When they are together, however, they are the simplest form of love. If only she had not done what she had, maybe they could have concentrated on being motes of dust in the land of Beqanna, eternally in love but forever nonexistent.
They part from one another, and the confusions of life dirty the clarity of what they once had.
Her baby boy comes slinking to her side, attaching himself to her confidently. The she-wolf has come too. While the boy muses over Trekk's arrival, Noori curves her neck, straightening the willow fronds which tumble down his oddly coloured face. Warmth begins radiating from Mother Spring, and flower petals rain down slowly upon the trio. This happens naturally, exhibiting Noori's happiness for all to see. She has her children about her, and with them, she is fearless, powerful. With them to love her, she needn't look beyond for attention.
Yet she does.
"He's your uncle," Noori blurts thoughtlessly at the same time as Trekk mentions knowing each other from a while back. Blood rushes to Noori's cheeks, red cracks appearing where seamless white bark once lay. Looking away from Daemron, the mare allows Trekk to do the rest of the talking. The she-wolf brushes against her forelegs while she stalks about her pack, and Noori appreciates her presence. A solidification of what she has here, and what she does not need elsewhere.
Or does she?
They part from one another, and the confusions of life dirty the clarity of what they once had.
Her baby boy comes slinking to her side, attaching himself to her confidently. The she-wolf has come too. While the boy muses over Trekk's arrival, Noori curves her neck, straightening the willow fronds which tumble down his oddly coloured face. Warmth begins radiating from Mother Spring, and flower petals rain down slowly upon the trio. This happens naturally, exhibiting Noori's happiness for all to see. She has her children about her, and with them, she is fearless, powerful. With them to love her, she needn't look beyond for attention.
Yet she does.
"He's your uncle," Noori blurts thoughtlessly at the same time as Trekk mentions knowing each other from a while back. Blood rushes to Noori's cheeks, red cracks appearing where seamless white bark once lay. Looking away from Daemron, the mare allows Trekk to do the rest of the talking. The she-wolf brushes against her forelegs while she stalks about her pack, and Noori appreciates her presence. A solidification of what she has here, and what she does not need elsewhere.
Or does she?