Who cares if hell awaits? We're having drinks at heaven's gate.
MOOOMMMAAAA!" M A R I B E L |
Assailant -- Year 226
"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
who cares if hell awaits? Isle, Any
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08-22-2016, 03:00 PM
08-22-2016, 04:38 PM
She is guarding the cave with another when she hears Maribel’s call echo across the snowy Tundra. There is no hesitation in her face as she turns to her companion with a pointed frown and then moves off and away, disappearing into the empty white. While Isle is loyal, and will be so for as long as Offspring continues to serve the northern kingdom, she is loyal first to her family, to her children. So when her child calls for her in a voice filled with worry, Isle reacts instinctively. She has no doubt that one guard will be enough to protect the cave for a while. The snow is deep in some places, thick where the wind had filled in the hollow places of the rocky tundra terrain, and she is careful to avoid these places in favor of the frozen dirt and dull, flattened grass paths. It doesn’t take long to find Maribel, her thoughts are as loud as the worry that colors her voice, and when her small palomino shape appears like a smudge of gold not too far ahead, Isle is quick to close the distance between them. “I’m here, Mari, I’m here.” Her voice is as soft as the sun on their backs when she curls around her daughter, using the velvet of her lips to push the tangles of white forelock from those beautiful blue eyes. “What’s wrong, love?” She tries to keep the worry from tainting her own words, but she is certain some of it slips through when her dark eyes shift to trace the deep lines of worry in the gold girls face. It is entirely reflexive the way her mind delves into Maribel’s, sifting cautiously through strings of barely coherent thoughts until she has found enough to make her step back a little and allow her gaze shift from those bright blue eyes to a golden barrel that was suspiciously swollen for someone who lived on the sparse Tundra diet. “Oh, Maribel!” She says again, her voice decidedly lighter this time as she steps forward to brush gentle lips along the swell of belly filled with child. Isle turns back quickly, touching her nose to her daughters neck, pressing a smile against the gold dapples. “You’re okay, my little love, you are perfectly alright.” She shifts again to brush some of the thick white mane aside, and she cannot help the way her heart glows like a thousand stars buried in her chest. “You,” and she pauses so that she can sling her head across Maribel’s slender back to draw her close in a quiet embrace, “are going to be a mother, Maribel.”
08-23-2016, 06:48 PM
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