"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
Another crash but louder shudders the world around her and she can no longer stay curled up trying to sleep. The muscles in her body become rigid as the ground trembles and quakes as though stirring from a century-long slumber. Cerva’s eyes reel open and she tries to quickly stand but her legs fail her once, twice, before she is able to attain her balance. Everything is shifting and rolling, crashing and splitting.
No, not thunder.
She wanted it to be a raucous storm, but instead her eyes watch the world tumble in disarray. What had been the Gates surrounding her is now nothing recognizable. Her eyes shut out everything, but she can still hear Beqanna screaming and roaring in all its might. All that she has known is crumbling and she is so afraid, so worrisome, that she is rooted in place instead of fleeing like so many others. She can hear their stampeding footprints which also sound like thunder, but she doesn’t follow. Where they are going, Cerva isn’t quite sure, and she can’t even fathom where she would go in this world that is flipping and shifting on itself. The meadow won’t be where she knows it, or the Valley, or the field.
Maybe she won’t even be alive long enough to run. Perhaps Beqanna is purging itself of life and so she does nothing as though waiting for death to find her.
But it doesn’t. Instead, silence does, and for a fleeting moment Cerva assumes that she is dead – gone in the blink of an eye.
But she breathes and when she takes that deep breath it’s fresh and invigorating. A hum of curiosity passes over her and so she opens her eyes hesitantly. Beqanna is reborn and unraveling in front of her. Debris coats her body and boulders jut from the ground at her sides. There are trees still and flowers that invite her into their embrace. How is it that after so much destruction there can be beauty? A feeble smile presses to her lips, but it flickers when she realizes what this change means. Nothing can be the same and so her home has fallen. Zeik, Magnus, Sahm… where are they? What of father? Swallowing the lump in her throat Cerva finally detaches herself and immerses herself in this new world, this new meadow, that hides every horse under a shroud of settling dust.
He was such a handsome colt, sleek black with an artist's stroke of white spattering. There was something about him... You couldn't quite place.
It wasn't his figure, for he was full and rounded and not at all like a child of his age, but as if he carried the muscle tone of a young man.
It wasn't his eyes. Black as pitch they seemed a bottomless source of calm allure.
In his smile rest a boyish charm, much as it did now as he peered up at the bay mare serenely. He'd trotted over quietly when he saw her, innocently attracted to her beauty and grace. Like a magnet, she had pulled him. He couldn't even remember what he was doing before this moment.
What is 'mother'? he asked her passively. He had heard it in passing and was unfamiliar with the term. Young and intelligent, he pondered on it silently, treating the question as hypothetical. Obsidian eyes scanned around them, cataloguing all.
He had observed that ones as small as he were often paired by an adult; a female. He supposed that must be it. It was, after all, when he had heard the younger ones name the elder ones thus. At first, he thought it just a name. But with how often he'd heard a child call a mare, and another child call another mare... Yes, that must be it. All mares must be this 'mother'.
He wondered why he had not been paired with one, and his gaze came back around to her. I've seen children. They have their own mare that they've named 'mother'. Are you Mother, too? he asked calmly with a little tilt to his head. Big eyes watched her carefully, observing every swish of her tail or blink of her lovely lashes.
She doesn’t expect the young boy to approach nor does she notice until he is nearly adjacent to her. The rustling of grass detaches her attention from the changed world and she turns her head to look down at him. A honeyed smile passes across her lips even as her heart wrenches. He, for a split moment, reminds Cerva of the filly in the adoption den (where is she?). They have the same hopeful and curious eyes that beam up at her as though she is their saving grace, their own guardian angel. It bathes her in warmth and she wants to reach out to cradle him against her side, but she suppresses the urge with a slow pivot to face him.
”A mother?” She asks as though afraid of having heard him wrong, but she knows that is what he is questioning. In the back of her mind Cerva knows what a mother should be, but instead her memory remembers Noori and how absent she had been. It was a power struggle, she sees it, but she doesn’t fault mother because she knew there had to have been some amount of adoration between her and Eight. After all, for a brief time, the triplets had been bathed in adoration.
Cerva shifts lightly on her feet, not yet realizing why a part of her feels so empty. She hasn’t yet tried to control poison ivy or even shift into a badger. When Beqanna was eating itself she knew her best chances would be as she was instead of being burrowed deep in her den. Unlike much of Beqanna Cerva doesn’t wholly rely on her own magic; she feels the odd tingle in the air but never yet questions it. Her mind has been preoccupied with the changes and now this boy as he beams up at her still awaiting an answer. ”I’m not a mother, no,” it’s almost painful to admit this, but she hasn’t yet found herself quite so attached to anyone to even consider bringing life into this world. ”A mother brings a child into this world,” she hesitates and reconsiders this, ”and is a constant in the foal’s life. A mother is a guardian, a nurturing soul.” It’s what she aspires to be which is made evident by the dreamy tone of her voice and the distant look in her eyes as she stares toward the horizon.
A sigh slips from her and she glances back down to the boy. ”I hope to be a mother one day,” she adds sweetly before dropping her head to level with his. ”I’m Cerva, and what’s your name?” A little star boy; perhaps he is her north, her guide into what her heart yearns for most.
"A mother?" she asks, and a smile instantly lights his face at her voice. Everything about her seemed perfect, from her gentle grace to her stunning beauty. He found he wanted to keep her, his very own mare. He didn't truly understand the relation of mother and child, a shared blood line. It always looked more like the foal owned their "mother" and ate when they demanded food, ran when they chose to play, was held by her when they wanted touch. He very much would like this one as his, for she was by far the loveliest, and he deserved the best didn't he?
Watchful eyes noted her shift in weight, almost a fidget, as she claims she is not a mother. Ah, so not every mare was one of these. It must be a title a foal chooses to bestow on them, staking their claim. "I'm not a mother, no" she admits, and he smiles again, pleased to hear she was not already taken. There was still a chance he could name her, and keep her for himself.
"A mother brings a child into this world, and is a constant in the foal's life," she goes on to say. Mild confusion tugged his brows together as he reflected on this. They bring them into the world? But he was already here, he could not be brought to a place he already was. He concluded she must be innocently mistaken and gave her an indulgent smile.
"A mother is a guardian, a nurturing soul," she adds. He looked her over from head to toe a moment, scrutinizing her figure. He supposed she looked rather strong, surely enough to be a guardian. Not that he truly needed one of those. And her honest eyes absolutely confirmed she could be nurturing, especially if he claimed her and asked it of her.
"I hope to be a mother one day," her melodious voice sings to his heart, his eyes glitter with happiness. This must be fate! She wants him too. He was about to test her boundaries and nuzzle against her as he saw the other children doing with their mares, when she speaks again.
"I'm Cerva, and what's your name?" The question halts him in his tracks a moment, and he becomes pensive. Little dark eyes seemed to dim as he searched within him for an answer.
Dovev, he says after a minute, though confusion again tightens his brows. It was his name, he knew, but he wasn't at all sure how he knew it. His gaze finds her again as he continued. I was born on the mountain, of the mountain. I am part of it, he says with calm certainty, remembering the whispery sensation he felt as he left the boundary surrounding its base. Like a magical farewell to its child, until he returns to her again some day.
You wish to be a mother? he asks carefully, his eyes sliding to his feet, wondering if maybe she was only being polite. Or maybe there was a chance he could have her.
Sweet boy, she nearly breathes into his ear. She wants to hold him closely, to have his warmth spread across her like a blanket. Although she won’t admit it to him, she’s afraid. Beqanna has shifted and the kingdoms have been destroyed. Everything she has ever known is gone and there is no one reeling her into the safety of their arms.
But to the boy she must look brave even as her heart patters against her chest.
There is sanctuary in her embrace, she wants to say, but the way he beams up at her melts away the need for words. Everything inside her bursts and she draws in a sweetened breath as though the world didn’t just collapse around them. It’s just them underneath the dull, winter sun but even as the naked trees groan all Cerva sees is beauty and feels the beginnings of love. The warmth dives into her soul and branches through her veins like liquid fire. ”Dovev,” she tastes his name and smiles with eyes like a butterfly’s gorgeous wings, drinking him in and forever memorizing the sharp edges of his face. ”It is a pleasure to meet you,” a euphoria swallows her when she looks at him and repeats his name to herself like a lost lover she has finally found.
”The mountain,” her voice lowers to a murmur and her chiseled head turns to look up at the jagged peaks towering high above. Dark clouds tumble and try to hide the sapphire skies behind. There is a war, a great dispute, but she has not yet seen what lies at the end of that winding path. She has witnessed many others making a long trek toward the sierra, but her feet have remained rooted here. Ignorance is bliss, she confides, but after a thoughtful lick of her lips she funnels her attention on Dovev again. Butterflies spring to life in her stomach. ”What made you leave the mountain to come here?” In a dreamy haze she fabricates her own tale that settles the pain in her heart, if only temporary. ”It was simply meant to be,” her voice is a whisper now, her breath warm on his skin as she inches closer, realizing how his question is guiding them down a path she never imagined.
”Yes, I want to be a mother,” but she doesn’t realize the way he sees her, the way he quietly claims her as his own.
Something in her face changes, warms and brightens; he loves it. Soaks it in. Like a withered vine he drinks it in hungrily, eyes gleaming. His skin prickles as she repeated his name, and he found he enjoyed that too -the sensation and the sound of it on her tongue. Again, he appraises her, unaware that it could be regarded as impolite by some.
Her sweet gaze turns toward the mountain as she calls its name, too. He can't help but study her profile, and his eyes catch on her pink tongue as she licks her lips. He looks away quickly, following her gaze to the behemoth rock form. "What made you leave the mountain to come here?" she asked him then.
He was suddenly very aware of her, his gaze glued to the mountain in the distance as she inched closer to him. Nobody had ever approached him before and he didn't know what it meant, so he held still. She whispered, and his mouth dried. She drew close enough, he could feel her soft breath comb through his coat, and he shivered. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew he liked it.
Holding his tongue, he allowed her time to speak again. "Yes, I want to be a mother." He hides the thrill of anticipation that coursed through him, but doesn't reply to the statement, and waits a moment more before responding to her previous question. What made him leave the mountain?
You did, he thinks to himself, a sound reason to give such an angel. But he doesn't say it; it would be too easy, too perfect. So the truth he tells. There are many there, all in a panic, he says passively, still staring in the distance. They run. Back, forth. They shout names, eyes wide. It is not a pleasant place to be at this time. He hadn't wanted to stay there. Nobody ever shouted his name, anyway.
He gave her a lazy smile then, glittering eyes finally returning to her. I am glad you were not there too. I don't ever want to see you that way, he says honestly. The topic feels too heavy to him, and he deftly guides them into a new one.
They are panicking, she muses. After listening to the boy admit why he is here, why he abandoned the sanctuary of the mountain, Cerva reflects on everyone she knows and where they could be. When she looks up at the towering peaks she wonders if a piece of the Gates is there glimmering in the snowy tops or in the lushness of the grass or in the strength of the rocks. She wants to venture there and see it all for herself but the boy confirms her fears. It’s too frantic there as minds are jostled as much as the world. Everyone is scrambling to understand what ground they are standing on and what air they are breathing. It must be chaos on the mountain. ”I see,” she mutters as tendrils of her memory reach back for her family and for the Gates. If only she could see them, feel them, hear them, but it seems she is alone once more.
Her nutmeg eyes flicker to Devov. ”I’m happy you decided to leave then,” adoration caresses the sweetened notes of her voice, ”I wouldn’t want to see you like that either.” The concern blazing in his eyes distracts her from how young he is; for a fleeting moment she thought she was being reassured by a lover, but he is a colt and not yet grown. A sheepish grin twitches at the corners of her lips as she realizes her mistake and how forsaken she is. Her heart crumbles for a deep breath, but when she recognizes his lopsided smile she tries to forget her solitude. Sweet, sweet Devov is patching the hole in her heart; he’s the angel that she has been asking for.
”I do not yet have a home,” the confession incinerates her throat like acid but she still tries to soothe him with a smile, and finally, a touch. Her lips press against his poll and her hot breath fans across his skin. ”But we have each other at least,”and now she pulls Devov into her side and breathes him in, ”and we can find a home together.” Excitement grips her suddenly when the words fall like silk and wrap around him. This is the beginning of a new chapter, of a new life, but it’s beginning with an unexpected step into motherhood. There is no required speech or official way of saying it. The silence that cradles the air between them and the manner in which she stands alongside him is enough to say ‘you’re mine.’
Her sweet melody cascaded over him once more, returning his genuine concern for her. His blood soared through his veins with pleasure at the sparkly glint in her eyes. Whatever it meant, he wanted more of it. Craved it.
But something, some thought, fades her beautiful eyes (though she holds a small smile) and his brows tightened in worry. Was she unsure of them? He wasn't. He knew he would name her Mother as he'd seen others do and claim her as his. She was radiant. Graceful. Kind. And his -or would be soon.
"I do not yet have a home," she said with something like pain in her voice. He didn't care for her unhappiness, would have to fix it, however this obstacle was minor to him. He would find them a home when he got bigger, then she would be happy again.
Then he felt her breath on him once more, and his eyes closed, his body trembled. The sweetness of it seemed to surround him, fill him, warm him from within. He would have to stake his claim, for he could not bear to think another would have her attentions as he was having. She was his Mother, and no one else's.
"But we have each other at least," she adds. And her heat enveloped him as she pulled him in. Electricity struck through him when she breathed in his scent, though he didn't have a name for the feeling that joined it.
"...and we can find a home together," she finished. He knew he would solve that for them, he was practically a man, after all, in his childish mind. He would name her, claim her, keep her. He alone would enjoy her touch, witness her smiles, haunt her dreams.
Mother, he bestows upon her confidently, adding a sweet bite for good measure. Playful. Possessive.
No, you are mine.
ooc: so not much happened in this one; hope you are able to work with it anyway <3
Devov’s body shudders against her and his eyes shut to hear and memorize the honeyed tones of her voice. From her vantage point she can see how he smiles and how neatly they curl into one another. Not until now had Cerva realized the emptiness of not having children; he is filling a void she was never even aware of. For years she had thought happiness would never reach her, that she would be overlooked because she lacked the fire that most others have. When she had been hopeful to find something like mother and father – whatever that dysfunctional relationship was – it had crumbled before her very eyes before it even began. On the verge of resignation Cerva realizes this intimacy of adoption is the balm to soothe her pain. This is enough as the world topples down around them. The world is burning and rising again, but none of it matters with Devov so innocently pressed against her.
”Son,” she concedes with a voice hushed for only him to hear, ”my sweet Devov.” He nips her but she sees it as play and not for what it really is. Within a single heartbeat the boy has declared his possession, his prize. A hand latches to her throat and the shackles clamp around her ankles, but Cerva is too ignorant, too blissful, to see and understand what dark tendrils are seeping into his thoughts. Where she sees motherhood he sees ownership. The view of freedom is soon to be obscured by the cylindrical bars of a jail cell because he wants her to himself and yet she wants more; Cerva wants a family and this is only a beginning.
This is the beginning to her struggles.
Underneath the somber sky when an iron curtain of silence closes on them Cerva lets her mind roam to the Gates and to the Valley, to her life before the mountains crumbled and the rivers flooded. ”Maybe one day you can meet my father,” she knows Eight is still here; his scent often chokes her when she wanders. ”Or maybe someone I knew from before,” but where would that lead? They left her, and in this muted reminder her eyes glaze. ”We will find a place to go where we won’t be alone,” it’s how she intends to dive into this new chapter where the turns are unexpected and the results are fruitful.
