11-12-2020, 03:49 PM
The little one is days old, and already his mother can see a strong personality showing through. Another boy full of vigor and thirst for life, and she is happy to see it. To know that her children are strong and independent. It's a blessing, one she hasn't always known she'd needed. Though it was not apparent from her outward appearance, Aquaria knew she was growing into the real adulthood of her life, and that even if age was slow to catch her body, her mind still bore the weight of years.
Having children was a comfort to her that way. They kept her loneliness at bay, and her heart full. Vaguely, she wished some days she could truly do it all herself, from conception onward. That wasn't a magic she possessed, however. And so she looked to the stallion before her, and felt drops of gratitude that he was at least willing to give her her sons.
She gives him time to inspect the boy. Goodness knows she'd spent plenty of time doing just that. Memorizing the new color in his eyes, the smattering of white patches that flowed across his sandy coat. For now he was dry and entirely equine, no hints to the aquatic capacities she'd glimpsed at his birth. Just baby fluff and milky breath, as new as a sunrise. Perfect, as all her children were.
She shrugged at the winged man's question, her scaled shoulders ripping with dappled light. "Personal preference, I suppose. Nothing set in stone, though. Mostly it just has to sound like it belongs to him." She mused aloud. After all, two of her boys had bird names, and the other two just sounded nice to her ear. She smiled, a little wistful at his suggestion. She'd come to terms with being a mother of sons, but the picture the feminine name drew in her mind was a lovely kind of fantasy daughter.
"No, that's not quite right. Not for him. Maybe you'll have a daughter it suites some day, though." She wuffed softly into the fuzz on the boy's back. Her sister had a daughter named Sande, and Aquaria wished she'd thought of it first. Oh well. There were years between her niece's birth and now.
The colt was growing bored with being looked at, and wandered past his father's shoulder to look at the river going by. It was a smaller body of water, easily jumped by a grown horse, but he seemed fascinated by the burbling noise it made. Aquaria stepped behind him, humming softly. "You're brothers learned how to fish in this river," she commented, nose dipping to point at the quicksilver bodies that flowed with the water. If what she'd seen was any indication, this little one would also be taking his first gulps of cold fish from this river.
She paused where the mud clung to her hooves, memory tickling the back of her mind. It had been here, hadn't it? Or near enough, anyway. Where Pteron had met Halcyon for the first time, where they had made Cormorant together. That had been the last time she'd seen him, really. Up until Hal found him again, and brought him and his family to her island. It had been happy memories in this place before. But so many of those memories were of her sons, and so few were of their maker.
@[Pteron]
Having children was a comfort to her that way. They kept her loneliness at bay, and her heart full. Vaguely, she wished some days she could truly do it all herself, from conception onward. That wasn't a magic she possessed, however. And so she looked to the stallion before her, and felt drops of gratitude that he was at least willing to give her her sons.
She gives him time to inspect the boy. Goodness knows she'd spent plenty of time doing just that. Memorizing the new color in his eyes, the smattering of white patches that flowed across his sandy coat. For now he was dry and entirely equine, no hints to the aquatic capacities she'd glimpsed at his birth. Just baby fluff and milky breath, as new as a sunrise. Perfect, as all her children were.
She shrugged at the winged man's question, her scaled shoulders ripping with dappled light. "Personal preference, I suppose. Nothing set in stone, though. Mostly it just has to sound like it belongs to him." She mused aloud. After all, two of her boys had bird names, and the other two just sounded nice to her ear. She smiled, a little wistful at his suggestion. She'd come to terms with being a mother of sons, but the picture the feminine name drew in her mind was a lovely kind of fantasy daughter.
"No, that's not quite right. Not for him. Maybe you'll have a daughter it suites some day, though." She wuffed softly into the fuzz on the boy's back. Her sister had a daughter named Sande, and Aquaria wished she'd thought of it first. Oh well. There were years between her niece's birth and now.
The colt was growing bored with being looked at, and wandered past his father's shoulder to look at the river going by. It was a smaller body of water, easily jumped by a grown horse, but he seemed fascinated by the burbling noise it made. Aquaria stepped behind him, humming softly. "You're brothers learned how to fish in this river," she commented, nose dipping to point at the quicksilver bodies that flowed with the water. If what she'd seen was any indication, this little one would also be taking his first gulps of cold fish from this river.
She paused where the mud clung to her hooves, memory tickling the back of her mind. It had been here, hadn't it? Or near enough, anyway. Where Pteron had met Halcyon for the first time, where they had made Cormorant together. That had been the last time she'd seen him, really. Up until Hal found him again, and brought him and his family to her island. It had been happy memories in this place before. But so many of those memories were of her sons, and so few were of their maker.
@[Pteron]