and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try
now, I'm underneath the rubble, trying not to feel the trouble.
He shuffles backward as she rises, lingering just long enough for her to breathe hot and soft against his cheek. And he smiles, doesn’t even try to hide it, because his heart’s swelling with love and pride he didn’t know himself capable of. Proud of her for how bravely she had fought through a trying labor, proud of their beautiful daughters simply for existing. And he is proud of all three of them without considering his role in all of it.
He watches as she tends to the fillies, kissing their heads, deciding that the red filly’s name will be Hourglass. Somehow, the sound of it further distends his heart with pride. Beautiful. He drops his head then and exhales a soft breath across the red filly’s brow. “It’s nice to meet you, Hourglass,” he murmurs against the cool expanse of glass.
He is oblivious to Desire’s flicker of worry, oblivious to the water springing from no real place in particular. Doesn’t even look up until Desire speaks again and he moves easy to the second filly’s side. The filly with milky white eyes, eyes so much like the centers of the galaxies on her mother’s skin.
It is a lot of responsibility, he realizes, naming something. Knowing that it will be permanent. He’d not had ample opportunity to think about it, really. He doesn’t know where to begin. He looks at the child long and hard, leans down to kiss her head, too. Tries not to make it obvious that his heart is churning with panic while his mind goes absolutely blank. No warning, just shuts down. There’s not a thought in his brain at all, in fact, when he finally lifts his head and whispers, “Clementia.”
It’s only after he’s said it that his mind flickers back on, his thoughts collect in sharper focus, and he smiles soft. It is a memory, the word muttered in the dark somewhere along the way. Mercy. He nudges her then, gently, encouraging the filly to collect her long, long limbs beneath her and try to rise to her feet. She wobbles and collapses once, twice, and then a third time. But on the fourth try, she stands, blinking. Takes a few shaky steps to her mother’s side, butts her glass head against her mother’s hip and then tucks her nose up underneath and begins to nurse.
He watches a long moment before moving to press a kiss against Desire’s forehead, murmurs, “thank you.”
THOMAS
— and you don't care for me enough to cry —