12-05-2020, 07:21 PM
And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going
Yan had never wanted Borderline to leave, but he would’ve never stopped her from going if that’s what she wanted. Clearly, it’d been her plan all along. Their winter’s love faded into summer and then grew into something beautiful, something tangible and real, but a rose cannot bloom alone in the midst of a foggy wood, and so their young connection couldn’t grow in the shadow of his coupling with Amarine. He understood, but he’d never wanted it to be that way. If Yan were the argumentative type he would’ve given her a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t have gone - Beqanna was dangerous, he still loved her, they had a child together. He’s not, though. Not the kind of horse who argues or tries to be a stone against rushing water, and Borderline has lived a life like the river for so long now it seemed senseless to try and dissuade her from making her own decisions.
She’d come home with @[Memorie] in the end, and so Yanhua had done his best to swim with the current of her emotions instead of redirecting them by force when they bent wildly beyond his control.
In the meantime he stayed with @[Amarine]; that’s where he’s needed most. Cheri and Reynard needed constant attention and Ama needed his help every hour she could manage to steal it from him. By now he’d told her the truth: Borderline had come home and their twins had a half-sibling. (To this day he still doesn’t know that somewhere, out there, an eldest child of his is alive and well.)
In the hours he can spare, he divides his time by being the ghost in the shadows. He knows where Borderline sleeps at night, watches from afar how she tucks Memorie in and comforts their daughter while the light of the sun sinks below the horizon and the stars come out dancing in full-form. On the darker, foggier nights they seek shelter elsewhere, but even those places aren’t secret from the flaxen-haired stallion. He’d been gifted from birth with the ability to turn his body into a living key: no tree, rock, or bush could stop him. Even if Yanhua couldn’t have slipped like a lantern imp through the forest, he’d force himself into tight spaces anyway just to be sure that Borderline and Memorie were safe.
That’s the kind of love he’ll always have for them. A love that has him up early enough to catch the blue tail-end of his daughter slipping away from her sleeping mother in the early hours of the morning. On hooves that barely make a sound, Yanhua glides not far off where Memorie explores, quiet and contemplative at his daughter’s natural curiosity. He longs to intercept her, but she’d not been receptive at their first meeting and Yanhua isn’t the type of father to insert himself where he’s not wanted. He’s not likeWolfbane his own father. He refused to be like him. Not until Memorie’s whimpers are louder than her small hoofsteps does he finally make himself known by gliding out onto the red-dirt path where she lies, lonesome and sad in a tight ball of anxiety.
“Darling,” Yanhua murmured deeply towards the filly, tall and wizened but ever so gently approaching, “why did you leave your mother?” He smiled.
She’d come home with @[Memorie] in the end, and so Yanhua had done his best to swim with the current of her emotions instead of redirecting them by force when they bent wildly beyond his control.
In the meantime he stayed with @[Amarine]; that’s where he’s needed most. Cheri and Reynard needed constant attention and Ama needed his help every hour she could manage to steal it from him. By now he’d told her the truth: Borderline had come home and their twins had a half-sibling. (To this day he still doesn’t know that somewhere, out there, an eldest child of his is alive and well.)
In the hours he can spare, he divides his time by being the ghost in the shadows. He knows where Borderline sleeps at night, watches from afar how she tucks Memorie in and comforts their daughter while the light of the sun sinks below the horizon and the stars come out dancing in full-form. On the darker, foggier nights they seek shelter elsewhere, but even those places aren’t secret from the flaxen-haired stallion. He’d been gifted from birth with the ability to turn his body into a living key: no tree, rock, or bush could stop him. Even if Yanhua couldn’t have slipped like a lantern imp through the forest, he’d force himself into tight spaces anyway just to be sure that Borderline and Memorie were safe.
That’s the kind of love he’ll always have for them. A love that has him up early enough to catch the blue tail-end of his daughter slipping away from her sleeping mother in the early hours of the morning. On hooves that barely make a sound, Yanhua glides not far off where Memorie explores, quiet and contemplative at his daughter’s natural curiosity. He longs to intercept her, but she’d not been receptive at their first meeting and Yanhua isn’t the type of father to insert himself where he’s not wanted. He’s not like
“Darling,” Yanhua murmured deeply towards the filly, tall and wizened but ever so gently approaching, “why did you leave your mother?” He smiled.
And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening