lepis, comtesse of taiga
RUN AND TELL ALL OF THE ANGELS; THIS COULD TAKE ALL NIGHT
i think i need a devil to help me get things right That Lilliana makes no effort to soothe her after the display of emotion endears her to the dun mare; Lepis has little patience for attempts to pacify her. The pegasus is not sorry for the emotions, after all, merely less-than-pleased with herself for having let them run so wild. She has them now though, tight in an intangible fist that she loosens only to let a thread of contentment to wind its way through her mind and distract her from the very thing that tightens Lilliana’s throat.
Lepis would have shared, had she known her companions’ distress.
Or perhaps she might have given some other emotion entirely if she knew the source.
As it is, she thinks she might have seen something like discomfort on the younger woman’s face, but it is gone so quickly that she is not sure. It doesn’t matter, she thinks; if the fire-haired mare were truly upset that Lepis has let her emotion show (because why else might that admission off-center her?), the pegasus will simply do better in the future to not subject her to such displays. An easy enough thing to do, she decides, and smiles encouragingly at Lilliana as she waits for an answer to the question she has asked.
This is a far better topic, what with the way her companion opens up, even with the claim there is not much to tell. Not much, she says, and yet so much more than Lepis has ever known. The descriptions make her smile brighter, picturing the family Lilli describes. They are all chestnut, like Lilli herself, growing up in a faraway land. And cousin, Lilli adds with an infectious laugh, and the image of a large family multiplies, fields of copper colored horses that Lepis knows is impossible but finds amusing nonetheless. When Lilliana turns the question back to her, Lepis expects it, and even though her answer is far different, the amused smile only softens rather than disappears.
“I do, but I’ve not met them. My mother raised me as an only child, and always told me my father was more of a…free spirit” She pauses just before recalling the exact phrase her mother had used, and it brings back the image of Heda’s quiet face, and the weary sort of affection with which she always spoke of Lepis’ sire. She loved him, Lepis knew, but Ivar was not a creature made for such bonds. Heda had accepted that, taken what tenderness he gave her, and taught her daughter to do the same. And Lepis had learned well: she held her husband when he came to her and cast her eyes away when he sought pleasure elsewhere.
That education has since been overturned, of course, and the joy she has found in her partner’s undivided attention has not dimmed in his absence, even if it has grown more distant. He will return, she knows, will meet their youngest son, and all the world will be as it should. Nerine be damned. Lepis smiles at the thought of Elio, likely off on a game of hunt and find with the other Taigan foals. “I always wanted siblings though; Loess was very quiet when I was growing up. Not like your home at all, it sounds like.” The chatter of Lilliana’s homeland was surely like that of Taiga, full of children’s laughter.
“I’ve always longed for a big family of my own,” she adds at the thought of their faces, grown so quickly from the soft newborns she remembers. “And I am fortunate to have a husband who feels the same.” Lepis had hoped speaking of him in the present tense might be easier, as though he is just beyond sight of the meadow they stand in. Yet she finds the reminder less comforting than she anticipated, and the soft smile falters for just a moment at the thought of him far from home, far from her, far from the family they have built and kept together.
Contentment, she gives herself, and is able to ask without much difficulty: “What about you? Did your family make you want the opposite of what you had?”
@[Lilliana]
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