"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
Sometimes Ashley would come, but she would ignore him. She didn't want to talk to him. He checked on her. He left. Had better things to do.
Sabrael never came. She would never admit how much that hurt, though she wasn't sure why it did. It's not like they were friends or anything. And she certainly didn't blame him, just look at her.
No, don't.
Never look.
She was a disgrace, and she didn't like her either. How could she hold it against anyone to never want to see her. To ever care. They cared enough to take her home, at least. But why had they even bothered. Why couldn't they have just let her bleed out. Though her injuries hadn't been bad enough for that. Maybe she could have died of insignificance.
She winced as it shoved against the inside of her belly, standing in the darkness of shelter and staring out at an unfairly sunny day.
He'd left more than scars and a broken spirit, it turned out. She never wanted to relive the day she found out. Never. And every day after, as her body nourished what she wished she could just expell out of her. Why should she be the one to sacrifice herself for his spawn.
His voice still haunted her, sexy-smooth and dripping with affection. Lacey..
She turned away from the light, back into the dark where she lowered herself to the ground, stomach hurting. In the dark where she couldn't see the laces at her hips that he'd carved so carefully into her. Where she couldn't see her sides swollen with another of him. Where no one else could see them either. Where no one else could see the hot tears that fell, and the emptiness in her eyes where a vibrant fire used to be.
Alone.
She was always alone.
Except for this thing inside her. It never went away. Only kicked and beat her from the inside. Maybe it didn't like her either.
She was almost alone.
He had been so reluctant when Ashley encroached on him, suddenly demanding him to drop his cargo that he'd almost successfully stolen all those months ago. It had been so uncharacteristic of him, but he'd been so prepared to steal the broken soul away. Somewhere she'd be safe to recover as best she saw fit, and somewhere he could come to help her relieve the pain it she so chose to let him. He had quite the wonderful medicine for her ails, if he did say so himself. And he did. But, in the end, he'd been happy to release the mare- Wallace, he'd called her, such a horrible name for a girl- to someone she knew. Someone powerful, and more than capable of taking her to safety and protecting her. Of course she should go home; that was where he would have eventually taken her. Of course she should be with friends. But that wouldn't stop him from going to see her. Ashley had invited him to do so, but he would have come anyway. The Irishman truly does not know why he is so drawn to her, even though the magician cleaned her up and turned her scarring into something lovely just for her. She is lovely, but that was no reason for him to cross a damn ocean. There had to be a better reason, but he doesn't know it. He could have women, plenty of lovelies out there, but he is drawn to her. Wanting to know how she was doing. Even if this was altogether unusual behavior for him.
Instead of lingering on the thought, the pale stallion makes his way across the land bridge he'd found after some waiting and searching along the opposite coast. He hadn't cared whose land he'd crossed to get here, though fortunately he'd gone unstopped. The ocean is something he is very familiar with, having been born on the coasts of Ireland and raised on its plains and cliffs. He loves the sea, and as he sloshes through the wet sand of the bridge he realizes how much he misses it. The salty air is refreshing as it fills his lungs and the breeze tousles his white and red-streaked hair. Before long, he reaches Ischia's shores, and his blue-green eyes rove the area half-expecting a guard or something to stop him. He doesn't wait for a welcome party, continuing into the land, determined and focused. His pace is not quick, his usual saunter, but it lacks the stumbling that came along with the boozed-up state of mind he typically prefers. So, he covers ground quickly, and soon catches her scent.
When he sees her, he is surprised at her size. Her barrel is gigantic, and she is clearly distressed. He frowns at the sight, having not realized she had been pregnant when he'd found her originally. At least she looks better than before. So damned broken and scraggly. She looks... beautiful in her pregnancy, despite the horrendous cause. He approaches, calmly as not to startle her, though somewhat more quickly as he realizes what is about to happen. What he's walking in on. Oh Reilly, my boy, you sure do have spectacular timing. "Wallace?" He calls in a low voice, tones deep and aiming for calm. Her back is to him, and he isn't certain she would be welcoming of his presence. But he's come too far to be turned away so easily. His expression concerned, he lowers his red head to her, blowing warm air from his nostrils in her direction as he sends gentle tendrils of his power into her. "Wallace, it's Reilly. I'm here for ya, dove. Anything you need, yeah?" His voice is whiskey smooth, successfully a lot calmer than he feels. He's never witnessed a birth before, and has no idea what he should do. But she's such a small thing, and her belly is so damn large. So he gives her a very light dose, enough to maybe soothe her a bit. He would give her more once she addresses him, once he is able to catalog her pain- physical and otherwise. An odd feeling, the way he feels absolutely rooted to where he stands, ready to help ease her pain in any way he is able. He doesn't question it, not now. Now, there is only her and the life she is about to bring into the world.
"Wallace?"
The sound of her name from a stranger's voice startled her, but she didn't turn. She remain on the ground, focused on the ache in her belly. Maybe it was hungry again and just demanding more. Painfully. Maybe she should just eat, so it would stop hurting her.
Warm air trickled to her. Her head barely turned to glance towards it, distracted. She flinched at his nearness, her eyes widening in fear before she turned away again to hide it. "Wallace, it's Reilly. I'm here for ya, dove. Anything you need, yeah?" His voice was deep, calm. As though he knew her. As though he were approaching a spooked little creature. Perhaps he was.
It scorched through her again and she keened in pain, a tear falling to her cheek. But just barely, it soothed and eased up. She sighed softly in relief, sucking in gulps of air, before trying to climb to her feet. The fact that he was here, and a stranger, and somehow knew her, really didn't register with her. More important things, like breathing and not dying here in this little cave. I gotta- I need to- she gasped and grit her teeth, silently cursing how blasted heavy she was now as she struggled to stand. Was his spawn made of goddamn metal too!?
I need to eat. Make it stop hurting.
But her attempts were useless through the pain and the weight, and she sprawled out on the ground again. Her sides heaved with panting breaths and she closed her eyes. She should just give up. Maybe this was what he'd wanted all along, to torture her in pleasure and then torture her in this pain until it slowly killed her. I think I'm dying, she said quietly to herself in a broken voice, defeated. But maybe death was the better option. Did that make her even worse of a person? Was it possible to be worse than what she was already?
After a blissfully calm few minutes, it came back again and she cried out, teeth clenched and tears falling. She gave up on hoping it was done each time it relented. It would never be done, this pain. It would get more frequent until her heart burst and she dropped dead. And she'd die alone.
But she wasn't alone.
She tried to lift her head to find him again, wary that he was still here. What did he want? Was he here to take the child to its father? Good. Take it. Just let her live. Just make it stop, she whispered to the darkness.
He looks her over, worry creasing his brows and sympathy softening his sea-green eyes. She doesn't turn when he calls her name, flinches when he blows warmth at her when all he'd meant was to calm her. Of course. He was too near. Feeling like an idiot, he takes a step back, but doesn't leave. He'd meant it; he was here to help. She would come to know he doesn't mean to harm her- would never. Especially not after all she's been through, even if he was capable of such. He wants to be near, to offer her some comfort, but he would stand off. Would not touch her. Not unless she asked, not unless she wanted him to. He cocks a hind hoof, his stance calm despite all the concerns swirling in his mind. Man, but her sides are so large. He looks closely, and can see the child- could it really only be one?- shifting under her skin, stretched at maximum to bear the weight. Every muscle in his chest constricts as she makes a soft sound of discomfort, wanting so much to do something. Anything. She speaks, stumbling over words and in between roughened breaths. Reilly straightens, turns to sweep his gaze over the area at anything he could get and bring to her. There's foliage everywhere, of course, but what could he get that would help her?
The sound of her movements draws his attention back to her, and he frowns as she lowers to the ground. So uncomfortable. Instinct told him to go to her, but he would not- he reminds himself. His nearness would only stress her more. Her next words break something inside him, and he shakes his red head. "Nay, Wallace. Yer gonna be fine, dovey. Just breathe. Breathe deep." Gods, she's such a small thing. Damn the bastard that did this to her. Reilly practices what he preaches to her, forcing slow and deep breaths. In, out. With his exhale, he projects his power to her, willing it to fill her with warmth and to numb some of the pain.
He is generous with his dosage this time, although he makes sure it won't be enough that she can't focus on her much-important task at hand. But damnit, if he could just make it easier for her. He will. Whatever it takes. "Just make it stop." Concern reflects in his eyes as his heart swells for her, adrenaline spiking his blood. He takes a shot or two for himself, to quiet the beating of his heart in his ears. He needs to focus for her. Will not become incapacitated now. Not when she needs him. "It will be alright, dearie. Feel that tingle in the back of yer throat, that warmth spreading through yer chest and into yer belly. Let it soothe ya, dove. Breathe." He backs away with that last word, eyes darting around to everything nearby. He hurries, sniffing the foliage for what seems richest in nutrients. After a short while, he returns with some roots and a branch of berries, placing them inside her small cave. He whickers to announce where he is, as he sets them down within her reach and then taking several steps back, respecting her need for distance. Damn, he feels so useless.
She noticed the change in his breathing and focused on it, trained her attention on anything but the pain. The suffering eased a little with his exhale, and her face naturally softened to that relief. A warmth spread through her with it, a sweet lull she could almost fall into had there not been so much pain. She wanted more, but wasn't sure if it really was from him or if maybe it was something natural. She'd never done this before. Was so young.
His voice came again, a whiskey brogue that maybe wasn't as frightening as it had been at first. Should it be? She ached to be soothed and comforted, wished to know she'd make it through this somehow. Not just the birth, but everything else. Everything that still made her so broken. He gave her a little of that, told her it would be alright, even if she wasn't sure she believed him. It was still nice to hear.
Then he described that sweet warmth within her, settling in behind the pain in a gentle numbing. Let it soothe ya, dove. Breathe. So it was from him. He was.. helping her. She tried to lift her eyes to him again, but -he was leaving! Don't go, she squeaked quietly, surprising herself that she would cling to a stranger that had just moments before frightened her. But he was already out of the darkness, bathed in sunlight as he rustled around for something.
And then she knew. Her body just knew, and with a strained cry she began pushing. She was dimly aware of him returning, calling softly, placing something on the ground near her and retreating again. She wanted to reach for him, have something to latch onto. Her eyes found him instead, brown and wide with fear. He became her lifeline then, and not something to be afraid of. Just for that moment. Then her eyes shut tight and she pushed.
After some time, the babe was born.
She climbed to her feet, still so heavy. So tired. But instincts were controlling her now, her mind quieted, and she bent down to clean his little nose so he could breathe. She tried not to notice the loud lavender that splashed his white beneath the birthing fluids, but she couldn't ignore the wet little wings plastered to his body. Now she did not seek the man's eyes, did not want to see if his reaction was as startled and unsettled as hers.
Something wasn't right though. The pains, the contractions were still there, racking her body anew. Her face was pinched, and she groaned helplessly. She lowered herself back to the ground, away but still nearby. And again she pushed with each tightening around her belly, until another babe entered the world. A girl. White and lavender too, but without wings. She shifted enough to clean her nose as well, her instincts still on autopilot as the babies took their first breaths.
With a fatigued sigh, she dropped her head to the ground, her nose brushing against something. She opened tired eyes to see it was, and began to cry. He'd heard her panicked urge for food, and gone to fetch some. Brought it back for her. As though he cared about her. As though someone, anyone, cared about her. Where had he been before all this happened? Why couldn't he have cared then, before she went through this? All she ever wanted was for someone to care. Just one person.
Now no one would ever want her.
She turned away in shame, her sides shaking as she wept. Little bodies nudged against her, seeking. They were the only ones that hadn't left her, not that they'd had a choice. They were the only ones that had been there as she cried herself to sleep with no one to hear it.
Her brown eyes shift to meet his blue-green gaze, and he freezes. Almost forgets to breathe for a moment. The pain in those lovely eyes tightens his chest and churns something in his gut. But he must. For her, he must. As he breathes with her and flows his power into her, he can almost feel the calm spreading through her. He can't help it, and he smiles. A soft one that reaches his eyes. His words helped her. All at once he doesn't feel so useless. And then he is turning, going off to find her something to eat. Faintly, he hears her tell him not to go. It is so soft he almost thinks he imagines it but his heart leaps in his chest anyways, jerking back to her. I'll be right back, lil bird. He wants to say, but suddenly can't speak around the lump in his throat. Rushing, he brings her the items and has them set down near her before he backs away.
It starts, and he sees her pushing. All the worry returns to his brows, and his eyes go wide. His heart races, but he forces his breathing to remain calm. Her eyes meet his once more (damn, his heart did that squeezey thing again), and he softens his face. "Tha's it, dove. Yer doing so good. Keep breathing. Push." He doesn't know what to do, so he cheers her on, close but distanced. He wants so badly to go to her, even senses she wants him nearer. He relents a small step or two, lowering his head to her, giving her another dose to ease the pain some more. Her eyes clench shut and she pushes again, and he's there. So close, but not touching. "Push, dove. Tha's it. So good. Nearly there." He lifts his head to view the other end and he can't keep the small grin from his face as the lil tyke slides into the world and onto the floor of her small cave. She rises to stand, and he backs slowly to give her space as she goes to clean the babe's nose, allowing him to breathe. "You did it." A whisper. He admires her in that precious moment- despite the ugliness of the act that brought her to this, it was so beautiful. She's beautiful. So strong despite her size and the wrongness done to her. Still, she does what she must.
But then she is grimacing and wincing with more contractions, and the worry returns to his face as she lowers herself back to the ground. Ah, but of course. He realizes all too suddenly that the colt on the ground is too small for all that space in her belly, a belly still rounded with the other life within. Of course it's twins. Bless her soul. Reilly takes a deep breath and returns to her side, wanting so much to touch her, yet refraining. "You got this, Wallace. Keep it up. Breathe, dearie." It seems to go faster this time, at least, something he is beyond grateful for- for her sake. Although, he isn't certain the birth of the second child is actually faster or if it just seems this way. Still, he's relieved when it's over and sighs softly. Vaguely, he becomes aware he is sweating, most likely due to nerves he never knew he'd have. She moves to clean the second baby's nose and he smiles, amazed at her. For a moment, he just looks over them, frozen in awe of what he'd just witnessed.
Until she begins to cry. His heart wrenches, that she would be so affected by him bringing her something she said she'd needed. He tilts her head at her, about to say.. something, before she turns away from him again. His first thought is she's shutting him out, but he knows better. She's ashamed, hurting. "Wallace." He calls, voice low and a bit rough from the sudden dryness in his throat. He bets she is thirsty too. The thought brings him to remember a freshwater creek he'd passed over on the way here. If only he could transport some over to her so she wouldn't have to move. He can imagine how tired she is. Slowly, he takes a step forward, gaze skimming over the two lavender and white foals. A boy with wings and a girl, still wet and in need of cleaning. Before he realizes what he's doing, he lowers his head to them, blowing warmth over each tiny body and giving them a gentle nudge. The boy has some dirt by his eye, sticky with the birthing sac, and Reilly nickers softly as he licks it off him. Surprised by his own actions and worried she might grow aggravated by him touching them, he raises his head and backs a step. "Wallace, dove. You did an amazing job. Are you in pain?" He doesn't wait for an answer, sending another small wave of intoxication through her. Not so much as to make her drunk, or even tipsy, more to numb the worst of whatever ails her the most. His gaze falls to the children once more, softening when they move to stand- one a little shakier than the other. A soft smile touches his pinkish lips. "What will you name them?"
He came back to her side, urged her on gently. Maybe she couldn’t have done it without him hovering there, she wasn’t sure. Deep down, she felt perhaps she had something to prove to him. That perhaps she should at least appear to be something more than she felt, insignificant and damaged. Maybe that was why she didn’t just give up. Or maybe her body didn’t give her a choice. Sometimes she didn’t get choices in what happened to her.
Wallace, dove. You did an amazing job. Are you in pain?
She was. Her body and her spirit. Though her back was to him as she lay there, she didn’t have to give him an answer before he shared his medicine again. She found that it dulled that other hurt too, the one that may never heal, and she sighed faintly into the warmth that came with it. Tears tracked lazy paths down her cheek as she stared blankly into the darkness, but she no longer shuddered with quiet sobs.
What will you name them? he asked. It pulled her mind out of the past and back to him, back to them, and she felt a pang of guilt. Because she hadn’t even thought of naming them. Or maybe even of keeping them. She was already a terrible mother. She tried to draw a mask over that self-disappointment as she forced herself to sit up, looking over each of them briefly with dull, dead eyes. Her eyes settled on the colt with wings of an angel, handsome little thing even if he looked like the devil. Her voice was quiet and hollow when she spoke.
Kharon. The ferryman. He would guide her to the afterlife.
She looked away as she felt another wave of shame at her dark thoughts. That she’d ever think such self-deprecating things only made her feel worse. She’d never done that before, had always been so very fierce -sometimes too fierce, had never thought so little of herself. Instead of making her stronger, it only made her hate herself more. Perhaps she shouldn’t name them after all.
Her eyes flicked to the girl. She didn’t look like her mother; she’d be painfully beautiful. Then she looked back at the man, very briefly, before she dropped her gaze and mumbled, Perhaps you should name her. She dropped her nose to the ground, idly stirring the earthen floor as she avoided the disgust that must be in his eyes. Something pretty, she whispered.
Though only exposed to it for a short time, the toxins had also made their way into her body. It hadn’t lasted long, the time from when it had gotten in her system and their birth, but through Wallace, it affected the unborn children too. That she had been connected to her dam for a little longer, only meant she had gotten a little bit more into her system. Not too much, but within her little body, it sure did have some affect.
The process of birthing normally wasn’t the most pleasurable one, though most of the time soon forgotten by the newborn child. In her case it might have been easier, with her brother opening the way for her, and that she was quite a bit smaller in size than he was. But there was this haze too. Honestly, there was nothing she could compare it too and thus the lavender and white girl experienced it like it was the normal way of things.
Cold air is breathed into her lungs and at that time she gets aware of the cold all around her. Without really aware of what she’s doing, her head is lifted off the ground the moment Wallace pulls away from her. She tries to move after her mother, only to flop back against the other wet but warm form on the ground, as she instinctively had crawled towards him. She reaches out again, her muzzle bumping into her brother’s side before she manages to reach out to the grullo form of her mother.
The touch of another startles her, or it is the warmth first. It reminds her of the haze that had shot through her at first, when she had first entered the word, but it doesn’t last as long. Instinctively she tries to move closer to it, sitting up and moving her forelegs a bit wobbly, but soon after it’s gone again. She looks into the world, not yet able to understand things, nor old enough to get curious. Just observing, taking it in, or perhaps not even that.
Something, she doesn’t know exactly what, drives her to her feet. Better said, there is an urge. The attempts to get up thus far had failed, leaving her to stumble back on the ground time after time, sometimes just falling on the ground, sometimes bumping into another form. Though it was too soon to register who or what it exactly was. Eventually she stands, thin and wobbly legs trembling and struggling to keep her weight up. She doesn’t know who of them had been quicker, but they stood.
Kylin
being a twin is like being born with unconditional love
He stayed on the ground a few moments, breathing, trying to gain his bearings of this new world. It was still dark, but not near as warm and quiet. Everything had been delightfully muffled, and now was so clear and distinct. Especially when there was a warmth put to his face, a tongue tenderly cleaning and breaths so sharp and clear. But soothing. That sound was nice, the breathing; the feeling too. But it was so very brief.
He instinctively reached for it as it went away, leaving more cold in its absence. Bright eyes took it in, this warm thing, as he tried to climb to his wobbly feet to follow it with a teeny nose. Then another warmth stumbled into him and knocked him back down. His head turned to take in this new one, so successfully distracted from his first target. Oh, more sizable to himself, this one. Small too. His little nose nudged at it as it tried again to stand, attempting to assist maybe, to steady her. She stumbled away again and he revisited his own attempts at standing.
His eyes met the big one again, the toucher, and with precarious steps he tried to near him. But, oh! Something tugged him this other direction, to the warm and brown that made his little heart dance. Yes, that was where he was supposed to go! Sticky, little wings came out to try and help balance him as he got excited and tried moving faster, falling with a grin this time. He stayed where he was though, because it was near enough to feel his mother.
Kharon, she declared at him, and he gummed happily at her flank, before peering around curiously for his sister. Ah, there she was, standing and near enough to touch. So he did; reached out and gummed at her too. The other though, big and white... he was not so very far, truly, but the distance suddenly felt further when he considered his stumbles so far. So he shoved his nose at mother instead, trying to coax her to stand too, and stared at the man with such deep intelligence.
He didn't have to see her face to know she was crying. Her quiet sobs, the soft quaking of her head and shoulders. It was breaking him apart, piece by piece. He'd never been so emotionally invested in anyone before. Reilly was the love em and maybe see them again later for another roll in the hay kind of guy. What was it about Wallace that changed him? And she had, certainly. To see her this way hurt him. Deeply. More than just a 'aww, you were raped. That must have been terrible' kind of sympathy. Instead, he is drawn to her, finding himself wanting to know the woman beneath the sad broken thing that lay at his feet. He knows there is strength in her, she had more than proved that so far. But she seems to have forgotten, and he is consumed by an overwhelming need to remind her and build her back up.
Guilt fills him; he should have come sooner. Doesn't even know why he hadn't. He'd wanted to, so why hadn't he? And a better question: would he have been so drawn to her before this awful thing had been done? Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury of knowing the answers. But he could get to know her, and he would. If she let him. He didn't think about the fact that just that thought alone was a form of commitment. No, he wasn't ready to realize that yet. Right now, all he knows is that he is here for her, and now her two babies, and he doesn't want to leave.
The moment his 'medicine' kicks in is notable with her soft sigh and the stillness of her shoulders. And yet he can still feel her sadness as if it were flowing off of her in waves. Still, an improvement. He would take it for now. Then he shifts focus to the twins, smiling as the small boy takes his first few steps toward him before his sister knocks into him and then they push to their mother. Such innocence in two admittedly adorable bundles. "Kharon." She names her son, and he nods approval at the sound of the name. Amusingly, the colt seems to accept it also, gumming up at her and then his sister. Cute lil thing.
What comes next is the most susprising to him, however. Wallace asks him to name the baby girl. His smile drops away to an expression of bewilderment. It was the last thing he'd expected. He didn't think he'd ever named a child before. Not even his own, and he undoubtedly had several- another wave of guilt at that, and another atypical response. "Something pretty." she says, snapping him out of his stupor. Suddenly he laughs, low and deep. "So nothing like Klaus or William?" A gentle jab at her own masculine name, hopefully provoking at least a smile from her. Man, how he wants to reach out and brush away those horrid tears from her cheeks.
Instead, he steps forward once more, lowering his head to the tiny girl. He brushes his muzzle down her mane, licking away more of the gook from her frail little body. As he does so, he rifles through his brain for ideas on a name. Something pretty, he agrees, and something that would go well with her brother's name. It takes him a few moments, but he lands on one he thinks is perfect for her. "Kylin." A Gaelic name, but a suitable one, he thinks. His smile returns softly as he gives the girl's face a gentle bump with his pink velveteen muzzle. Blue-green gaze shifts back to the boy staring up at him with innocent but deep eyes, coaxing Reilly to reach over and lip playfully at what little of a forelock the colt has. He looks back to Wallace then, seeking approval for the name he'd chosen, and also a gentle suggestion. "Can you stand, dove? I believe they're hungry." He smiles, a blissful kind of soft expression on his face as he inches a bit closer to her. "Take it slow. I can help, if you need." He remains close, just in case, ready to catch her if she falls.
