"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
12-09-2019, 10:21 AM (This post was last modified: 12-09-2019, 10:22 AM by Reia.)
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
No one warned her of the pain, of the agonizing contractions, that rack through her body during pregnancy. Every few feet, another groan or gasp escapes her, unbidden. Weak, she hisses to herself when her jaws suddenly clench with another wave. If mother can do this, so can she.
Move. Another demand to herself.
One step after another, she abandons the walls of Loess to immerse herself in Taiga’s dense forest. The agitation between her and Pteron seemingly triggered the stress and arrival of their child. She was steadfast in their confrontation, unwavering even as his own rage rolled across her like a tidal wave. Oddly enough, it appealed to her, but it was enough for her hormones to scream and make the delivery finally happen.
Beneath the coniferous cover of Taiga, and with the river babbling to her left, Reia finally buckles. Her legs bend underneath her and the wide mass of her barrel gently lowers down. Another groan sighs from her lungs as black smoke billows from her nostrils. That’s the last she remembers as primal instincts overwhelm her and seize the opportunity.
It seemed like there would have been two. Her stomach was so large, so distended, that it was promising to bring twins into this world, but when Reia finally rises, there is only a filly. Blood soaks into the ground and paints the leaves with crimson. Being an inexperienced mother, she does not consider more than what she blatantly sees. The small girl swallows her attention entirely, and Reia tends to her uncertainly with too-rough nudges until she finally stands. ”Adarra,” she proclaims with a jagged smiles, ”princess of Taiga.” The filly eventually rises to her feet to nurse, but her eyes occasionally glance off to the side in silent knowledge.
There was a presence with her in the womb, a sibling that kicked her and greedily devoured much of the nutrition. Someone was there with her; she has sensed it since the very first moment, and yet when she peers down she is met with empty air. ”Drink,” Reia snaps to her daughter, jerking the child from her musings. Obediently, she takes to nursing for a few minutes while mother occasionally reaches for her in radiating surprise and fascination.
”It’s time to meet your father,” she murmurs as she immediately begins walking away, forcing Adarra to unlatch and stand there, both unbalanced and confused. Still sensing something – that familiar presence, that musical heartbeat that danced with her own – the girl stares back to where the grass is slicked down from afterbirth and blood. ”Hurry up or you’ll be left,” Reia chides over her shoulder without pausing to heed her daughter’s concern. A shrill bleat is Adarra's final attempt to stir to life her twin – or was it all just a dream, her imagination? – before turning to trot after mother, solemnly resigning.
Summer mornings in the Taiga are both hot and humid. The fog, smelling strongly of the sea, clings heavily to the redwoods despite the bright sunlight that trickles through the coniferous canopy. Pteron's tobiano coat is already steaming from exertion, and the weather makes it no more comfortable. Having completed a circuit of the northern territory (one of many that he will do today), the pegasus stands beside a clear stream, having just drank his fill.
His muscles ache and quiver, but the stallion knows that in a few hours they will be as good as new. He never experiences soreness, not like most would, but he often pushes himself past comfort. Pteron has done that today, and most days since Reia's arrival in Taiga.
Each day she swells wider, and the weight of his responsibility settles more firmly across his pied shoulders. As though Taiga itself is not enough, the child that she carries will demand more of him than he thinks he is ready to provide. Still, he must be ready. He will learn as he goes, but surely everything he does will be better than what Reia will manage. She is not a kind creature - he cannot fathom that she will be a kind mother.
The wind is against him, but the sound of hooves on the soft floor draw his attention, and Pteron's olive eyes and blue-tipped ears swivel in the direction of the arriving horses. It is Reia, and his stomach clenches. Yet she looks different, and his brow creases as he struggles to place why. She's slimmer, the stallion realizes just before he sees the filly that clings to her heels.
There is a blue sheen to the girl's golden coat, and she wears the piebald markings and wings possessed by both of her parents. She is damp, and not especially well-cleaned from birth, and yet Pteron thinks that perhaps she might be the most wonderful thing that he has ever seen. He has no eyes for her mother (though some part of him recognizes that he should say something to her, even a breif hello), only for his newborn daughter.
"She is perfect." He says truthfully, stepping closer with his head lowered, eager to meet her. "What is her name?"
@[Reia]
ooc: no html bc im at work and 'technically' doing online trainings
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
”Of course she is,” Reia quips as her tail flicks, causing the flames to hiss, ”Did you expect anything less?” Her eyes narrow skeptically at Pteron, nearly tasting the unwillingness to be near enough to her. A whirl of emotions grip her – anger, longing, confusion – but she forces them aside for the moment as she looks down at their daughter. ”I knew our child would be perfect,” in front of him, she is tender and placid toward the young one. She reaches around to lip her Mohawk tenderly, breathing in the girl and memorizing the tang of blood and newborns before returning her attention to Pteron. ”Her name is Adarra.” At the mention of her name, the filly looks up and her eyes mirror those of her father. They stand out from the rest of her body, startling but beautiful. Her muzzle reaches up and glides across mother’s flank, but slowly, cautiously, she edges toward the larger stallion.
There’s a peaceful quiet among them while Reia closely watches, her lips pursed shut in fascination at having made, and delivered, something so innocent and pure. ”Adarra,” it jerks her daughter’s attention back to her, ”this is your father, Pteron.” This is a rare moment where there is no aggression, no anger, and no threats. For a moment, they are a family.
Adarra’s olive eyes have already drifted back to her sire as she inches in front of Reia to better look at him. She observes his wings then regards her own with a little ruffle of damp feathers. Lifting her muzzle toward him, Adarra curiously huffs with dilated nostrils to memorize the new scents washing across her. ”Pte… Pte…” she attempts to seize his name, but her mouth cannot yet grasp and form the syllables. As though seeking help, her olive eyes slip to mother again, tilting her small head. ”Father, dad, poppa…” ideas for her to use with an uncertain shrug of her shoulders. It’s seemingly enough, however, as Adarra whips her head back to Pteron with a honeyed smile that isn’t at all jagged like her mother’s. ”Poppa,” she confirms sweetly before finally closing the space between them and nibbling his chest.
Warmed by the sight, Reia edges closer and presses her muzzle to his throat, just behind the curve of his jaw. ”It’s the strangest thing,” she mutters quietly, muffled by his skin, ”I dreamt I had twins, but there was only Adarra.” Slowly, she withdraws from him, but the heat of their bodies still mingles as her gaze falls to their newborn daughter.
Pteron hadn't been sure what to expect of their child. It would probably be winged, he'd assumed, with tobiano markings and coloring that reflected some blend of their blues and golds. He'd tried not to think of it much at all, if he is honest with himself. There had been brief moments, when he'd wondered if the child would inherit his invisibility or his regenerative healing. He'd imagined teaching a small, nondescript figure how to appear and disappear at will just like his father had taught him.
But there had been other moments, moments when he imagined a child with its mother's sharp tongue and sharper teeth, who was impulsive and cruel and impossible to love. How could he raise such a child?
He's managed to offend Reia, an unfortunately common occurrence, and Pteron looks over at her. His wife looks tired, even more than she does irritated, and he is reminded of the literal labor she has just been through. Pitying her is a frequent emotion, but as he meets her blue gaze and then looks back at their child, that sensation is interspersed with the soft glow of pride.
Yes, this perfect winged child is his, but it is also Reia's. She is flawed, but she is as responsible for the creation of this small and impeccable life as he is.
Adarra, she has named her, and Pteron stretches out his muzzle to gentle ruffle her mane, and to press a kiss to her poll when she nuzzle in against him. "Adarra," he repeats affectionately, still smiling from her attempt to puzzle out his name.
There is a warm glow of contentment in his chest, and though it is entirely novel and unlike anything else he's known, it is also somehow better. He sighs happily, inhaling the sour-sweet smell of his newborn child, and when Reia comes closer Pteron does not immediately flinch away. He doesn't lean into her either, or attempt to keep her close when she pulls away, but even the stillness is a new addition to thier relationship.
"Maybe she's strong enough to be two children," Pteron muses. "My mother said wings feel like an extra set of legs in the womb."
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
”Perhaps,” she scoffs with indecision, reluctant to accept Pteron’s answer. Her pregnancy seemed like an eternity and her body swelled with an obscene roundness that shivers down her spine when she recalls seeing her reflection in one of the ponds. ”If only you could get pregnant and deal with all that awful crap,” a low growl tumbles airily through her, only half joking as her thoughts trail toward the Mountain and the outlandish requests the faeries have received throughout the centuries. A jagged and amused smile races across her lips when she jerks her head to look at Pteron. ”I’m sure we could make it happen. How funny would that be?” It wouldn’t bring him as much joy as it would her, but the coldness in her stare reflects how little she would regard his misery. After what she dealt with, it’s warranted, she thinks.
Despite the bite of her words, however, Reia is somehow able to soften just slightly when her attention drops down to their daughter. The mingling of father and child spurs a warmth in her gut that pours through her veins and into her encased heart. ”Cute,” the remark is a monotonous drawl, but admittedly, the iciness of her demeanor melts at the sight of them together.
Adarra is accepting of the affection, beaming up at her sire as he ruffles her Mohawk and presses a tender kiss on her poll. The only thing she can reach is his shoulder where she dutifully mimics the gesture in response to hearing her name spoken from his own lips. ”Me,” she agrees sweetly as she presses her forehead into him, her tail wagging from side to side as though flies were swarming her.
Silently, Reia remains a bystander to the affection shared between her family – her new family. Her cerulean gaze slides back and forth, conflicted between joyful and skeptical. ”She is strong. She will make you – us – proud, I think,” hopefulness leaks into her voice as her mouth pulls back in a feeble smile, imagining what will become of their firstborn. ”Perhaps next season I can give you a son,” Reia focuses solely on Pteron then, searching his expression for an inkling of betrayal or disinterest. He always reeks of others, but there are two that are increasingly potent.
She renders their importance, storing away the scents for a later interrogation.
For now, in this moment, she accepts simply being here with their bodies pressed close for the sake of their familial image. ”We could be so great together,” she slyly whispers, funneling her attention onto their daughter as Adarra nuzzles her father one last time before wobbling away to nurse.
finger trips across my cheek---------------- ----------------kiss me until i can't speak
His answer isn’t good enough for her, the scoff says, but at least Reia only shivers rather than snaps at him. Pteron begins to move away (slowly, just a single shift of one hoof for now) as she muses over the impossible image of him being pregnant. The idea is not entirely a novel one to Pteron. There are stories of it, he knows, of magical conceptions and arcane transformations that allow a stallion to bear a foal and enable a mare to sire a child. Once, he’d considered considering the prospect, once when he was starstruck and foolish enough to think that he might have found forever in a pair of violet eyes.
He might have borne a child for a particular starry-eyed stallion, but the idea of carrying Reia’s child makes him blanche. Pteron hopes that she misses it. He coughs, attempting to cover the reaction, and looks over to meet his wife’s cold stare.
There was truth to his comparison of her to a lizard, Pteron thinks. That hard stare is decidedly reptilian.
Somethings sparks there when she looks down at Adarra. Pteron doubts it is love, for he doubts the cremello mare can feel that emotion at all. But it isn’t dislike, and that he is sure of. There could be better emotions, Pteron knows, but this is not the worst for their daughter to grow up with. He nearly begins to relax, and Reia chooses this moment to change the topic to one of the very worst he can imagine.
Perhaps next season I can give you a son, she says, but there is no doubt what she means. She will not let anyone else give him a son, Reia means. Pteron has no trouble imagining her enforcing that, and he doesn’t make any attempt to hide the shudder. “I’ve kept my promise.” He tells her, knowing even as he says it that going on the defensive over this topic is unlikely to end well. “I’ve ended anything that threatened our marriage.”
He’s tried to, anyway. He’s done his part, at least, warning Aegean away from the woods and keeping far from the Ischian shores. It’s working so far, he thinks; he’s keeping them safe.
Reia leans against him, the smooth slide of her scales a familiar sensation along his piebald side. Familiar but uncomfortable, and Pteron remains still only out of force of habit. He’s fairly certain that she won’t hurt him in front of their child, but as Adarra becomes absorbed in her nursing he realizes that shield has slipped away.
The “Hmm,” that the dun stallion gives in reply to her statement is non-committal, neither encouraging her delusion not threatening the assessment. “If we wait till Adarra is a little older, I think she’d enjoy a younger sibling more. And she’d be able to help you out with babysitting too, so you’ll have more free time.” He swallows the tightness in his throat. That had been a close call, the nerves nearly rattled his voice. Grateful she cannot see his traitorous face with the way she’s tucked into his neck, Pteron reaches over to run his blue lips down the line of her opposite shoulder. There is a hiss of blue flame against the hair and skin of his neck, a sizzle and smell of cooked flesh to accompany the kiss before he pulls away.
The sharp pain that dives beneath his burnt skin is a preventative measure. Reia almost always softens when Pteron shows her affection without being forced to it, and she is even more likely to relent when he has to suffer the flames of her mane to do so. That all the affection Pteron shows Reaia is forced is a truth that he knows his wife must never learn. If she were ever to suspect that the blue pegasus’ heart still lies elsewhere (even if his body does not) Pteron is certain that she would not stop until she’d burnt him out of existence, to a pile of ashes that not even magic could regenerate. Worse, she’d do the same to those he means to keep safe.
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
It doesn’t escape her notice when Pteron just barely shifts away from her, a subtle rejection that she feverishly grips onto. She doesn’t say anything, listening to the quiet woods as her mane and tail crackle and hiss. Addara occasionally snorts amid her nursing, sweeping her tail side to side happily. Occupied, she doesn’t listen to the hushed conversation of her parents, her mind clouded by the delectable taste of milk on her tongue.
The tender moments ceased when Reia slipped shamelessly into their private lives together. Pteron struggles to mask his falter, but she can nearly tango to the escalation of his heart beat. The predatory nature thrumming in her veins presses her to take advantage, to take what is hers, but she somehow remains steadfast. A twitch of her skin (scales) here, a swivel of her ear there. It’s almost empowering to be so quiet, to occasionally glance at him and watch as he tersely confesses his loyalty. He is a rabbit to her, trembling beneath a rising fear of what she could do to him. A relationship of predator and prey.
Another minute of waiting, of muted contemplation, before she looks at him roguishly. ”Oh, darling, if only I actually believed you,” a jagged smile just barely crosses along her lips. Her cerulean eyes gleam with hooded mischief despite the too-sweetness of her voice. If only she could identify the culprits; if only she knew the wedges in her relationship. Their scents cling to her memory, tacked on from months prior, but she has not been near enough to anyone to find the original source. One day, she promises herself, because even as Pteron reassures her that he has ended everything, she cannot help to disbelieve him.
Why else does he deviate from giving Adarra a brother so soon? Why else does he shudder when she tries to rest kisses on his throat or lean into his side?
As a mild distraction, and an opportunity to mull his idea, Reia turns her head toward their nursing daughter, bumping her croup gingerly. A surprised jump jerks Adarra back, unlatching her mouth to acknowledge mother inquisitively. Their eyes hold one another briefly. A smile is shared. With a deep breath, Reia returns to focus on Pteron, her chin lifted in objection. ”No. Age won’t affect that,” she has siblings but the age difference neither helped nor hindered the relationships. A weak persuasion attempt, she thinks, and her eyes narrow on Pteron skeptically.
He is right to think she will not hurt him in front of their daughter. Adamant to maintain a united front, Reia keeps close to him, pressing occasional kisses on his jawline and neck in between curt, frigid statements. While Adarra is this young, it works to fool her; but it will not last forever.
Tucked against him, she murmurs into his soft skin. ”Adarra can explore and become independent when she is a yearling, as I did. She may even find someone to love and claim,” Reia pauses to lift her gaze to his, ”just as I did.” For her, it was an immediate knowledge, but the emotional warfare has persisted enough that at times, she falters from the idea.
But, she is too far in to let go now.
A gentle nip catches his shoulder. ”I have half the mind to steer her from men and love. It would only set her up for pain and annoyances, am I right Pteron? Such a beauty she is, and so strong, but she will never be enough, so why let her try? Why let her tread the same path as I have?” Malice rises inside her, sharpening her voice like a knife until she is able to bring herself to search his eyes and pierce into him vehemently. ”Why ever make her wonder why she isn’t good enough, or make her fight for the attention of a man she wants?” Her voice hisses from her clenched teeth and the fire along her neck angrily roars.
But then Adarra is there, walking to stand in front of them.
Her olive eyes trace up her parents, and she smiles at them, immediately subduing Reia’s fury.
finger trips across my cheek---------------- ----------------kiss me until i can't speak
She doesn’t believe him.
It’s not really a surprise – there is no trust between the two of them.
There are only two things they share – Adarra and the knowledge that Reia will never let go once she’s sunk her claws in.
It’s a matter of waiting now, of counting the minutes until they are alone and Reia shows him exactly how displeased she is with him. When she reaches out to bump Adarra, Pteron is certain the time has come, but his wife merely smiles at the girl, who looks back adoringly with olive eyes just like his own. Emotions clash within his chest, paternal love swelling only to be pressed back down by apprehension. ‘Age won’t affect that’, she tells him, effortlessly batting away his effort to dissuade her from the idea of more children while eyeing him skeptically. Adarra returns to her nursing and Reia continues to place kisses along the tender skin of his neck and jaw.
They’re reminders, Pteron thinks, of how easily her caress can turn cruel, of how easily his blue and white skin will split beneath her teeth. He bears it, for Adarra, even as his wife begins to expound upon her plans for their newborn child. Not until she mentions claiming down Pteron look away from the child, meeting Reia’s blue gaze with a shake of his head. He does not know what Sochi and Castile had taught Reia, what they might have told her to make her so certain that the world was hers if she bit hard enough or blew enough fire. But he will not each that to Adarra.
She will know better.
He will do better
A single bead of red blood wells where she bites at his shoulder, but the skin there knits back together quickly, healed by the time he begins to speak.
“You chose a path where you weren’t wanted.” Pteron replies back, his voice pitched low to keep the almost satiated Adarra from hearing. “I’ll make sure she is not so selfish to make that mistake. I’ll teach her respect, and that no amount of force and teeth and fire will make someone love her.”
The fire along his wife’s neck grows brighter, a sure sign of her fury. Adarra comes to stand in front of them then, and Pteron looks down at the smiling little shield and back at Reia. He takes a breath to calm his nerves, and manages to smile back at the girl when she looks at them searchingly.
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
What he says, all of it, should be enough to chase her away. His barbed words are venomous and sink far deeper below her skin, settling across her heart. It should be breaking underneath the trauma of what he confesses, but instead, it blackens. Each word batters against her, but Reia refuses to stumble or shatter. It gives her strength and resilience.
He is testing me, she tells herself comfortably, he is testing my loyalty and determination – my resilience.
A fire ignites inside her, a primal lust. A jagged, Cheshire grin stretches the corners of her mouth, almost maniacally. Her eyes blaze with the fire along her crest. ”You came to Loess, to my home, to me, Pteron,” she does not yell as every piece of her wants to melt into him. He is always so aloof, so withdrawn, that Reia cannot help to greedily feed off the emotion radiating off his skin. Her body inches closer, still wanting him, still adoring him beneath the shaded pines. ”Our parents made it official, and I am devoted to you,” she breathes, stressing the importance of their situation, ”so devoted to you.” A loss of reality masks Adarra behind the illusion that Reia is alone with Pteron, offering herself wholly to him as her body melts into the passion of his voice.
But Adarra is there, watching, inching backward. Her small head inclines, her olive eyes darting back and forth between her parents. Of course, she doesn’t understand, but the tension rising is a thick cloud that engulfs her. Rooted to the ground, Adarra doesn’t flee. She merely glances away as though her phantom twin will emerge from the brush and whisk her away.
Reia, through her teeth and with her eyes wild, quietly adds, ”You will teach her nothing. You’ve shown me no reason why you should,” she pauses to grin, ”Show me reasons why and maybe I will reconsider, my love.” The flames along her tail hiss as she sweeps it to the side in her turn to face their daughter. ”My little darling,” she croons as she edges closer, playing the role of loving mother while Pteron watches by resting a kiss on their child’s poll.
