Although the winters in Loess were not the worst she had ever seen, they grate on her. It isn’t feasible to spend every second in the hot springs or curled next to Tarian, sheltered beneath his wing, so there are always parts of the day where she is uncomfortable. She tries to move, tries to wander and explore Loess and the surrounding areas to keep her mind off of the chill - of the memories that it brings back - but she has been so tired that finding that energy is rare.
Today she had thought to try to take shelter in the cave that Tarian had shown her, but the wind from the sea blew right into the entrance and she was forced to leave it. The soft white feathers of her wings are ruffled in her irritation as she alternates pacing and dozing until she catches sight of a very familiar grey form coming towards her - done with his duties for now as the sun begins to sink and make way for another chilly night.
Her heart thrills at the sight of him, as it always does, but she cannot quite help the bite in her voice when she moves forward to greet him. “Why couldn’t you live in Tephra?” She tries to think of where the other warmer lands were, and pictures white sand beaches instead of white snow. Her grumpiness heats her eyes to a bright pink, a colour that had been scarce over the last year, and it is at odds with the way she traces the lines of his neck, checking to make sure there were no injuries from the day spent apart. “Or one of the islands?”
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image by yoricade
@ Tarian
09-08-2021, 02:19 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-08-2021, 02:20 PM by Tarian.)
It's funny how time changes, how it can be given new measure.
Before Altissima, time held very little meaning to Tarian. The sun rose and it set, and those days were spent measured by his actions. By spars and patrolling, by whatever his duties demanded of him. When he had come to Loess, his time was measured by the routes he took through the Southlands. The sun rose and set like anywhere else, and Tarian paid no more attention to it here than he had in Paraiso or Liridon.
(Until Eclipse. Since the Eternal Night, the Champion holds some gratitude that the light has returned to their world and that it restored Altissima to her full health.)
Now that Altissima is here, the days pass differently. They are much longer than he has ever remembered them, and towards the end of his patrols, the gray pegasus has a quicker step to spur them to a close. And now, time changes again as moves towards her, washing away the last tendrils of his responsibility clean as he comes into their little nook. This winter moves differently than the last, as he glances down along the swollen side of the white mare beside him. Each day since Wildling had told them that there would be not only the two of them, but three (theirs, he always thinks as he walks along, their child).
He comes alongside her, lifting his wing so that she might come and keep warm.
"How does the Icicle Isle sound?" he says teasingly, no longer bothering to fight a grin as Tarian does the same that Altissima does. He glances her over, reassuring himself that she was alright. Smoothing her fine mane, he continues. "Probably has a horses height of snow and temperatures that would freeze our wings off." Seeing the pink in her eyes, he stops his banter there.
Tarian knows very little of her condition, only that Altissima hadn't wanted him to treat her differently. He doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that doesn't want her pregnant feathers ruffled at him.
"Can I... do something?" he asks, never being the type that enjoyed feeling unuseful. "Bring you anything?" His mother had liked roseberries, and what little memories Tarian still holds of his parents, he remembers Malachi fetching them for her, returning home with a gray coat stained pink. He doesn't think that Loess has such a fruit, but maybe there was something that Altissima needed, something that wouldn't turn him into multi-colored glowing worm.
Perhaps, he thinks as his mouth moves down her neck to her shoulders, trying to ease the tension there, she might settle for a massage.
@Altissima
TARIAN
Tarian’s description of the Icicle Isle does nothing to ease her frustration even though she knows he is teasing her. The chill of Loess seems thicker for those images and she snorts in irritation even as she accepts Tarian’s offer and fits herself beneath his wing. She’s unwilling to give up the added layer of her own, though, so she stands a few inches away from him instead of pressing her side as much into his as she possibly can as a shiver runs through her thinking of her wings falling of from being frozen. Thinking of being buried under all that snow, unable to move.
He abandons his teasing when he looks her in the eye, her pink gaze furious and covering up the fear that the cold really brings out.
She can’t help but wonder if it will always be like this - if she will never get over this hatred of the cold. Tarian’s presence helps, even when he’s teasing her. Though she’d prefer if he chose to tease her about something, anything, else.
Her eyes close as she stands next to him and she pictures warm sunny days while Tarian asks if there’s anything he can do, anything he can bring her. A small smile tugs at the corner of her scowl and the hard expression on her face eases as his mouth moves down her skin. “Bring me spring.” She says quietly, the edge to her voice softening under his attention and she shifts a little closer, encouraging more.
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image by yoricade
Altissima hates the cold and Tarian loathes anything she despises.
He draws her closer, widening the wing draped over her topline and wrapped around her growing barrel so that it takes the brunt of the winter wind. The little nook that Tarian has found them - a place carved out by time and suited for seclusion - keeps out the more bitter elements of the chill weather but it does nothing against the kind of cold that seeps into the bones.
Tarian would find a way to draw it out for her, if he could. If he knew how to chase out the chill from within her, how to flood her with a summer's warmth instead. But lacking the ability to do those things, the scarred stallion huddles himself nearer to her slighter frame so that all the heat he has can be given to her.
"I'd bring you the stars," he tells her, pressing his broad nose into the graceful curve of her neck. "But you already brought them." Tarian continues, knowing he sounds nothing like the Champion who usually speaks to the other Loessian's with such a terse tongue. It is something about Wildling - something always about her - that seems to loosen his tongue so that the words come so much easier, so much freer, like the open affection he shares with her.
"How do you feel about the moon?" he asks, thinking that she deserved no less. Tarian is teasing her again, though his touch and his words are reverent against the sacred feeling of her skin. "For you," he says, his voice becoming grave and solemn with the brevity of what he considers an oath. "Anything."
@Altissima
TARIAN
Her smile comes first and then when her eyes open to glance at him, the bright pink of her gaze deepens to that shade that’s both indigo and violet - the one only Tarian can inspire. Peace and happiness. “You’re ridiculous.” She chides him but the twinkling of the air around her returns, those tiny shimmering lights dancing around them both. Both his attention and this use of her powers is a welcome distraction and the tension begins to seep out of her body, the iron-tight grip her own wings had against her growing sides easing.
He continues, teasing her some more and her smile grows - a retort right on the tip of her tongue until his voice becomes serious. And she knows it’s true - that she could ask him for anything and he would do it. Not just something relatively small like bringing her a particular fruit she craves but more than that. If he asked him to leave Loess, if she really truly wanted that, she believes he would go with her. It might not be an instant decision but she hears that in his oath. Just as she knows she would stay if he asked her to.
And she also knows neither of them will ever ask these things. Not until it really matters - because neither of them want the other to give up such a big part of who they are.
That knowledge inspires her to voice what she knew for sure when he had shown her those flowers, what she feels with his touch against her skin like standing here with her is all he could ever want.
“I love you, Tarian.”
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image by yoricade
He'd been prepared to do whatever she asked.
There is a weariness in his stance from the day that has ended, but he would have gladly gone out again if there was something Altissima wished or wanted. He would have flown out of Loess, clear across Beqanna, if that's what the trip entailed. But he's glad to brush against her and feel her own wings lessen their grip as she becomes more comfortable. He would brave whatever she asked - and yet there is a fire kindling in him at the thought that all she needs is his warmth.
That at this moment, the only thing she needs is for him to stand beside her and keep out the cold.
Tarian drapes one wing over the lovely length of her spine and the other lifts and curls forward, attempting to block out the winter chill. The gray pegasus intends for his pale mate and their unborn foal to stay warm. He doesn't even feel it when Wildling murmurs those words against his skin, not when they light him from the inside out.
Not when this feels like an affirmation of a lifetime.
"I love you too, Altissima."
TARIAN
@ Altissima
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