"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
With her last venture from Nerine to Icicle isle, she hadn't been able to find the strength to make the journey back across the sea. Physical strength had already long been fleeing, but she realized that day as she stood knee deep in freezing water and looking eastward towards her homeland, that there was no longer any mental fight left in her. Not for the time being at least, not with the width of her midsection weighing heavily upon both her mind and body alike. In those last few days especially she seemed to have become impossibly rounder, fuller, and even more so exhausted. The word 'frustrating' came easily to mind as sighed softly to herself and turned away from the water--she had hardly done anything remotely tiring at all since she had come over, at least in the physical sense.
Keeping to the southern side of the Island, she spent most of her time impatiently wandering, pacing on the occasion even, as if the simple motion would expedite the process that instinct had made her believe would shortly be coming. Leilan was possibly against the thought of her constantly moving, but she didn't know, and regrettably didn't care. She couldn't keep herself motionless for long, and despite the fact that she wasn't actually doing anything, it still made her feel as though she was doing something. And that would have to be good enough for now. At least she was here, on the island safe from the plague's influence temporarily, having chosen to give the child its best chance against sickness for the first part of its innocent life. There were still dangers here--as she had remembered Scorch wisely mentioning--and freezing weather to keep at bay, but the extent of how much damage the plague could inflict upon a newborn was unknown to her. And that had made the decision easier in the end.
A day came when she didn't rise when morning came as she usually did, or step beyond the entry of their modest shelter. When she had awoken, there was a lack of will to move at all in spite of her usual nature, recognizing the consistent pressure along her sides for the promise that it was. There was no pain yet, but it would come soon enough. For now, she would find some contentment in resting her chin on the swell of her barrel as she had done so many times in private before, mesmerized every time when their child's movement could be felt against the curve of her smiling lips.
Glaciers melting in the dead of night and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
She's still here.
He wondered why, at first. The island was cold and not at all too inhabitable; well, the southern point was, but, it's still cold. Winter might be ending soon, but up here, even if the nights had gotten less freezing, it was still very cold.
Had she asked, he would have carried her, or, well, supported her swim across the canal anyway. Too many strangers in this place, and perhaps too cold for a child. Or for any pregnant mare. She might have been safer with Scorch and Brennen, in Nerine. Warmer at least, even though Nerine was also cold, especially in winters.
She wasn't the only one to stay, though. Heartfire was still here (although, she could just be in-cre-di-bly stubborn, like him so, well, maybe that was not the best comparison). And there were young ones, although not newborn babies perhaps; Briella, sick and all, had survived the icy cold too. So there was a chance that it was going to work.
It's still not ideal. Not at all what either of them had imagined, at least certainly not what he'd hoped of their time together. So many years had been wasted. But then, the world as it currently was, just wasn't safe any more, and there wasn't much to do about it. They couldn't have foreseen this coinciding; there was just the matter of dealing with it. But it did seem as if she wasn't very happy, sometimes. Most times.
He fell into the now-old habit of keeping watch from a distance during the day, and keeping her warm at night. He usually left a little before morning, to see if there was anything new happening this day. This morning seemed rather uneventful however, so he returned more quickly than usual.
She was easy to track. Hoof-prints deep in the snow and cold mud, frozen water and soil cracked where she'd gone. Especially since the last few days she was mostly pacing, so it wasn't like she would ever go far. She would still get up and move about restlessly, even though he frowned at her - didn't need to say it; if she couldn't swim to the mainland, then perhaps she shouldn't be tiring herself by pacing?
This morning was different - she hadn't moved, hadn't gotten up to graze or even pace. So he neared the small shelter she had found, slightly worried something was amiss; but he simply caught her resting, like he'd told her so many times she should do, and... hmm.
It's not everyday he gets to see this any more. That small, crooked smile creeping up her face - almost involuntarily so. Beautiful. As the wind picks up his mane and tail, he hardly bothers that it softly sways his forelock into his eyes; he blinks several times, but it still obscures the view, and at some point he quietly tosses his head - it's breaking the moment, perhaps. She might notice the movement now.
He searches her features again, wondering how she feels.
Perhaps today, she's happy after all.
you set my soul alight
HTML by Vanilla Custard
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Somehow his presence had evaded her senses, too caught up in a rare moment of quiet, allowing herself the smallest bit of peace before what was inevitably to come. Soon enough the horizon would darken with the promise of a storm, both internally and in the external world alike. But that was all in the foreseeable distance as of yet, and for now she could spare submerging herself within the false warmth of a genuinely calm morning.
As she rests, her eyes lull heavily, threatening to close entirely under the influence of exhaustion while focusing on every slow intake and expulsion of a steady breath. The heavily burdened mare nearly does escape alertness, until the slightest of movement catches at the edge of periphery. Obviously startled, her head snaps toward the direction of the shelter’s opening, ears flattening simultaneously to press firmly against the slope of her poll. It’s too bright to make out the observer, and unfortunately, in times like this, she is forced to presume the worst possibility—especially on this frozen island. Though the weight of her body protests significantly, she finds the reserves of her strength and fueled by fierce determination of a soon-to-be mother, she manages to haul her spotted frame to a stand. It’s not as though she is a warrior, but somehow she would find a way to protect herself to keep her and Leilan’s unborn child safe.
Breathing raggedly, she remains silent with her ears still lost in the tangles of her white mane. With a few rapid blinks, her eyes adjust against the brilliance of the light behind the stranger and the red of anger that lines her vision begins to recede when she recognizes the sheen of scales and gilded strands.
”Leilan?” she questions through a hoarse whispered breath, feeling as though her heart was doing its damned best to jump out of her chest. Even though she knows it’s him by now, she cannot relieve herself of the tense posture she’d fallen into. Not until her breathing slows, is she able to diminish the heated glare she still casts at him with her emblazoned dark eyes.
She might’ve stood there for awhile longer, staring at him heatedly for scaring her half to death, if it hadn’t been for another bout of movement the leopard mare began to feel stirring inside. Like a hormonal switch, her body releases all remaining tension, ears rising to attention as her expression reworks itself into thoughtful curiosity.
There’s only a few steps between them, and she would love nothing more than to close the distance between them, but she finds her lack of energy regretfully inhibits her. He had told her, that he hadn’t been able to be apart of the experience of pregnancy with the other children he had sired. So in a sense, this was new to the both of them and she can’t help but wonder if he has been able to feel it’s movement as she had, when their sides pressed against each other during the cold nights. And she smiles, almost shyly but with obvious happiness, the soft brown tone of her gaze moves from her swollen barrel to search for his own colorful eyes. ”Our child is moving. Do you want to feel it?”
Glaciers melting in the dead of night and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
Oops.
He would have laughed if the movement hadn’t made him so aware of the weight she’s carrying, and what that means. Still, he makes sure to take a few steps forward so that she has less trouble seeing him, but not enough -hopefully- to appear even more threatening.
He tries to find a word of reassurance, but then she breathes his name in a question, and he can’t help but out a small chuckle, closing the distance then. ”Aww, you’re such a fierce momma. I’m sure they’re lucky to have you.” he quips easily. He moves to nudge her head, steadying himself for a blow to the head though, since it’s likely that she’ll act on that threatening stance of hers now.
Her change in demeanour however, is noted with surprise and a tilt of his head, curious chocolate gaze directed at her until she tells him what it’s about. She says the child is moving - it’s still so unreal to him, this family business, never having been mentally close with the women bearing his children until far after they’d been born. Yet they both can’t deny the swelling of her barrel, or the minor movements in it, and he surely won’t deny he’s happy it’s there, despite the bad timing (in the end, the timing might always be bad; there seems to be not a moment’s rest in their life so they’ll just have to make do and steal their times together to be a family).
His attention moves from her pretty face to her extended, dotted side, ears forward as he wonders what’s going on in there. ”I wonder what it’s like in there. Do you think they’ll hear us?” he asks, absentmindedly moving his nose across her neck and sliding off her spine to press his forehead a
and birdge of s nose her swollen side. It’s not very soft any more, like she used to be; must get tense there now with the growth. ”This child’s keeping you up at night, aren’t they?” He eyes her sideways, mixed worried and amused because apparently, they’ll have a temperament - like either parent. But then if the baby keeps her up that much, then she’ll eventually not go into labour so well-rested.
you set my soul alight
HTML by Vanilla Custard
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
"Fierce and fat, thanks to you," she bites back. In spite of the indignant huff, she can't hide the smile in her voice or the teasing brightness her dark eyes shine with. It was so easy to lose herself in the maddening chaos of the plague and terrain claims, but it was nearly blissful to find some thread of humor in his attempt at irritation. Not that she wasn't slightly irritated by his patronizing tone, opting to show her displeasure with a firm nip to his hindquarters as he moved to her side, but for all their time together, she had come to understand his poking was done out of affection. And despite every eye roll, heated glare, or rock thrown at his head his actions received as reactions from her, they were all usually shortly followed by a smile or a laugh.
Usually.
"It's probably dark." Smiling amusedly to herself, she raises her pale head to rest across his back for support. It amazed her how much pregnancy seemed to take all of the energy out of her, feeling as though her head weighed three times as much as it normally did. Her eyes sleepily begin to drift shut, "I imagine it's possible they can hear us." The cheeky smile of hers grows wider, feeling the gentle press of his nose into the taut pull of her sides. It's a brief moment, but she revels in the rare quiet surrounding them and the soft light of happiness that had been so evading as of late.
"It is," she admits to him, her expression fading as soon as the words leave her lips. She's not sure if he had meant physically or mentally, but in truth, it was both. "I'm not unhappy about having a child, Leilan, in fact, I'm fairly excited. But I worry about the chaotic world they'll be brought into and their well-being. And... I'm scared for them."
She might have said more than, might have further confessed her fear of not being a good mother and the fear that she might not raise the child properly, but her thoughts are cut short by the spike of pain rolling across her flanks. With a sharp intake of breath, she recoils, withdrawing her head from its perch atop his back. The pain is persistent today, unyielding, and it nearly crumples her where she stood. But somehow, when the black that swirled her vision begins to clear, she finds herself laying in the same softer area she had been moments before Leilan had materialized.
There's no memory to recall of doing this before, but when the contractions intensify and elongate, even her fear of the unknown does not prevent her body from acting in its natural accordance. Each struggle for breath and each distraught push feels like an eternity, closing her eyes as if in desperate prayer, she rests her head helplessly against the unforgiving cold of the floor. And with a final breath and bearing, it's over. Shakily, her body curls back as she folds her legs beneath her, and her curious eyes fall onto the shivering foal beside her. Not wasting time to fawn over the beauty of the child just yet, the new mother does her best to rid the debris of birth before another sharp pain causes her to falter. But it's there and gone in an instant and for now, she ignores it, instead of taking in the dark chocolate body and solid gold locks of their newborn daughter.
Obviously tired, but smiling nonetheless, her gaze rises in an attempt to find Leilan's. She might have caught his eye for only a moment before the crippling pain is back again and it's all she can do to not cry out in surprise and lay her head back down again in the brief lull before the pain of labor overtakes her again. It seems quicker this time, or maybe she's number or not quite as scared of the pain this second time, but after a few more pushes from her aching sides, the ferocity of the pain recedes to nothing. Again, she pulls her protesting body up to look beside her, marveling at the sight of another foal that now rested beside its earlier sibling. As she had done with the first, the second is quickly cleaned. Another girl, this one paler, but just as beautiful as her twin with similar gold crowning her mane and tail.
With the purest of adoration, the new mother touches her dark lips to each of them in turn, murmuring softly against their downy fur the magnitude of love she felt for them. It was inexplicable, and a love unknown to her until just now, but it was nothing short of beautiful. And it's only when she is content that the pain had fled for good this time, does she brave a glance at their father with an exhausted, but equally just as happy smile.
Glaciers melting in the dead of night and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
By some miracle, this time there's no rubble flung to his head. Then again maybe she's just too tired. He scoffs at her remark, and fat, thanks to you, and shakes his head in pretend-shock. "Breckin, how could you say that? They're alive, not fat!"
How she has never attempted to kill him, knowing it wouldn't last anyway, was also a miracle. She might just not be the type (although... he remembers some sharper nips and the like, which had exactly been what had lead them to this moment... ah, well, attention). He'd gladly do it, though. Take a hit. He knows he'll get a smile out of her most of the time, and that's really worth the work - worth all this idiocy of his.
She knows how to jest in return every now and then, though. Like now. He's finally serious for a moment, and she completely ruins it for herself. Well. Can't be helped then. Making a small tssk-ing sound, he shakes his head at her, gives her a look. "I thought you'd grow a little light for the baby while you're at it." Feigned disappointment crosses his features - sure to receive another of her famous little bites, but on his scales they just don't really leave a mark. Good thing they didn't, he'd probably look the part.
I imagine it's possible they can hear us, she says, and he scowls. "All the more reason not to call them fat." he turns his attention away from her and back on her exposed side, moving his nose over her skin. "Don't worry baby, momma calls me all kinds of things, too." he says then, before moving his head up to rest on her spine with a challenging smile.
It doesn't take long for her to start worrying however - well, at least they're on that point where she voices those worries now. It's something, he supposes. "I know," he says softly. "But Breckin, there'll always be some sort of danger." Cursing himself a bit for saying that word aloud, he presses his lips together for a heartbeat before continuing. "But you're not alone." Heck, even if he himself got preoccupied, she would have others to turn to. He's not planning to, but, well, you know. It's extra reassurance of sorts, to have a family like that. Or, maybe not, if they all decided to meddle with the upbringing of the child. Hmm. Might not want to tell Breckin about that part.
And then she just drops.
Panic. Ears fall flat to his skull when she suddenly slips away from under him, and it's only in a reflex that he's able to crane his neck enough that her head doesn't smash on the rocky ground too hard, probably. She falls and he doesn't know what to do about it, should he even be doing something? Is this normal?
She presses her eyes shut in obvious pain, convulsing almost with the labour of, well, not screaming maybe? All he can do now is try to make her a bit more comfortable, but he doesn't even know how to do that, he has no healing powers or anything, he just has freezing ice, instead of heat to keep her warm - well, body heat is something he has perhaps. He shuffles himself behind her back on the ground, his head below her neck the next time she lifts it in a painful contraction - the rock is quite hard and cold enough for her aching belly to rest on, already; no need for her to make her head more uncomfortable, too.
Luckily for him this is indeed the normal way of things. When a small form starts to pop out; toes first, head following, he finally knows how to breathe normally again, himself. Breckin is still mid-birthing however, and he can't exactly get up to look without having to drop her head. But that's alright. They can look together, after. It doesn't take long any more then, and suddenly the spotted mare shifts weight, and he pulls back his head to look over her shoulder, too.
She moves frantically almost, in cleaning the chocolate filly on the ground. Curious, he wonders where that colour hails from, because it's not exactly bay, but he couldn't care less if it was something Breckin or he, carried in some way. That there, is their daughter. Or Breckin's perhaps even more, having done all the hard work.
He moves to get up, still nostly in awe. "Daina, look what you made,” he whispers. He starts move over to help the girl get clean a little; but Breckin only catches his eye once and when she does, she falls back again. Shock and scare fight to gain the upper hand as he watches that - again, is something wrong? - then only pays attention to her form. Still a little... fat, as she'd called it.
Now might not be a good time to remind her he has a twin sister, or that his mother is a triplet?
This time, it all seems a little quicker, thankfully for Breckin; he has just about enough time to softly muse over the gold-and-brown of the filly; their filly, his daughter. Obvious of course by the gold in her mane, much like Chryseis and Ophanim were marked. This one's his daina's daughter though - a baby deer. She even looks the part.
His eyes lock back on his struggling love, worrying if she has enough energy left to pull through. Why can’t he take some of this pain? Or give her some energy? He extends a nose to touch her, then wavers, falters; better not, perhaps, distract her. Standing a little awkwardly over one baby girl, he just has to wait and watch for the other to be brought into this world also - a dotted one like her mother, but red based instead of black, with a pinkish look to most those spots. Such a contrast to the first. But they're both so, so beautiful. Perhaps even more so than their mother (no, scratch that, just look at her adorable sweaty face). He smiles.
He softly touches Breckin's poll to get her attention back, relief making way for happiness and joy on his face as he looks from her to the two girls she'd bore. Two. He still hardly fathoms. However, it is with a much more abrupt motion that he jolts his face back to hers when she asks him for names. "Uhh... It might be better if you did that..." He'd probably make the worst names ever. Some come to mind instantly, and get dismissed just as quickly as well. Goldilocks, Freckle or Spot, Coco, Chocolate, Hershey, Baby Girl One and Two. No, bad names. Think of others. Leliana, his name twin. Or maybe something fiery, after his mother, Heartfire, and Ea. Damn, but there has to be something he can say. It might be obvious in the way he seems to think, then make a frown, twist an ear, gives a slight shake if the head. No, no, not good enough. A sigh. Giving up on the seriousness of it. ”I only have bad ones. I guess we could always go with Daina? Or, Brecan - nah, sounds boyish. Breli. Oh, I met a Leliana, think that’ll work? Leiliana if that’s better. Maybe just Spot, or Dottie. Fawn. Amber. Honeysuckle. Fluffy? Let’s just call them Minime and Miniyu.“ Rambling, he’s rambling. Should definitely stop. But he just... kinda sets off into a storm of nerves and names that don’t really fit their prettiness. He supposes there is some cuteness in Fawn and Dottie, but, well, that doesn’t seem like a good name to be honest. Not a serious name anyway. ”I’m sorry, I’m tiring you. I give up.” Looking to the three girls on the ground, he feels rather stupid for failing them, ears drooping back into his mane. Can’t even find a good name for the little deerlings.
you set my soul alight
HTML by Vanilla Custard
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
It's gradual and progressive, the way her expression changes. It had started with a smile, awaiting his suggestion, but the grin fades to a flat line with the more names he offers before the edges of her mouth dip into a concerned frown. Tilting her speckled head, with an incredulous look and narrowing of her dark eyes, she mouths Fluffy? in a silent question. Before she replies with the stiff No that had already started to form on her lips, she holds her breath to watch him a bit more closely. Was something the matter? She'd only ever seen him this unsettled, or maybe nervous, once before--when he'd first come back to Nerine and they'd both unloaded themselves of their hidden feelings for each other And when he apologizes, she can't stop the lopsided smile of hers from returning, because his reaction was endearing and she understood it.
"No name seems perfect enough," she says finally, harnessing enough strength to pull herself to a stand despite the groan of her aching body. "But we can find something as close to perfect as possible for them." Thankfully, he's not far from where she had risen, and it only takes a couple steps to fill the distance between herself and the man she loved. With a fluid motion, her lips draw a curved line down the length of his neck, ending with a kiss on the bony prominence of his scaled shoulder. "We made them," she corrects him gently from his statement before, humbly giving credit where credit was due. Closing her eyes, she swiftly skims the memories she had, only to reopen with a gentle confidence as she pulled away from his side, turning her attention back to the resting twins.
She moved towards the eldest girl first, with her warm brown coat and golden strands and faded dapples that dusted her small body. Breckin lowered her head nudge the girl's head affectionately, running her nose towards the child's rump before boosting her to a wobbly stand. "Oisin" she said in a quiet declaration as the filly boldly found her footing on tiny hooves. "Little deer." The leopard woman chuckled softly as the girl dared a few brave steps, successful at first before stumbling on the last bit, falling haphazardly before catching her tiny chest against her father's leg. Little sides heaving with exertion, their oldest daughter looked up at him uncertainly with wide, brown eyes.
Breckin's gaze drifted towards the younger girl then, smiling warmly against the tufted gold mane so brilliantly like her sire's. This one was near the perfect melding of her parents in appearance--spotted pale red upon white and metallic tresses. As she had done with the first, the mare kissed the child's head before she firmly lifted her tiny rear to encourage a stand. "Eurwen," she says against the baby's dotted body, using her own head to the leverage the girl up and onto her own tiny four hooves. Contented that the filly wasn't going to immediately topple over, Breckin releases her hold, but hovers nearby to catch her if she would happen to fall. "Gold and fair."
"What do you think?" she muses, passing a curious glance to Leilan, wondering simultaneously what his eye color would be in the shared moment.
She can't help it, but a slightly exasperated sigh escapes her when the reality of the situation wriggles its way into her bubble of joy. "I can't believe there's two." Her voice lowers enough so that only he would hear her, expression turning slightly sour realizing how much more work keeping two tiny horses alive would entail. "I blame you."
Glaciers melting in the dead of night and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
He takes a deep breath after finally making his own mouth stop (or perhaps it could have been just a long pauze); it had taken some time for Breckin to notice what he was doing or where this behaviour came from, and now... now she’s just laughing at him. His gaze narrows, the grey pool of brown and blue fighting to gain the upper hand, as he tries feign being upset by that challenging, knowing smile.
He’s not supposed to be endearing and cute. Hmpf.
She slowly stands; he has the feeling she doesn’t want his help so he stills his little twitch of muscle before rushing forward. Listening to her, he nods, silent a while, looking to the gold-marked girls. Perfect names for perfect girls - but it’s so hard. And he hadn’t exactly had time to think on this beforehand, so he has no names at the ready either.
We made them she corrects, and he shakes his head. ”You did all the work.” he noses her shoulder at this, but looks at the girls with a rather puzzled face. Still nameless. Blue eyes trace them as they wiggle and start to move. Two girls. Alive. Real. But he can’t possibly think of anything good enough for them, and he’s a little sad about that fact, disappointing himself perhaps.
He has to rely on their mother for that, like he had (more involuntary) with Chryseis, Thorgal and Ophanim. He’s right though, Breckins ideas are far better. He grins at the name Oisin, tugging on the white spotted mare’s ear. ”She is, isn’t she,” he says, looking at the twins warmly. At the name Eurwen, he just nods a bit more seriously. The little doe-eyed filly was more than just the regular fair, he figured. But then again he might be biased. Because he loves them more than anything. Easy how that goes.
”Those are perfect names. They fit much better than anything I could come up with.” Trailing his nose over Breckin’s rather sweaty neck, he tries to get rid of some of it’s humidity before she talks again (but that moment is rather short). Looking at her, he seems to calculate, then takes the gamble. ”I guess that’s fair, I do have a twin sister somewhere out there... But we should be glad it’s not triplets, like my mom was.” Feigning a serious face, his eyes glance rather green-ish at her then though, forsaking the chocolate of his father that he wore until recently; melted. Why does that always keep happening with her, he sometimes wonders. But he has no answer - or one. Depends how one looks at it. She knows him too well, by now.
you set my soul alight
HTML by Vanilla Custard
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
She smiles triumphantly, happy that he was in agreeance of the names she'd offered. "I'm glad you like them," she said, closing her eyes against the press of his nose against her neck. She dares open her eye a crack to look at him a bit more mischievously,"I suppose we could always call them Oisin Fawn and Eurwen Dottie though."
In spite of Leilan's efforts, a shiver works its way through her as a cold breeze of the isle passes against her body still saturated with sweat. She must look a mess again, probably covered with dirt in some places too. One of the joys of a fair coat color, always being exposed to showing just how much filth you have accumulated. Leilan was lucky in that sense, having scales now that could deflect any kind of dampness. Breckin was loathed to admit it, but she was jealous slightly jealous of his useful appearance, but maybe in the future, the opportunity would arise where she could grow scales instead of fur.
"That's..." she pauses midsentence, at a loss of the appropriate word. The leopard mare hadn't the slightest notion that twins and triplets ran in her lover's family. Her own family ties were lost to her, so she couldn't confirm or deny whether her genetics had any influence over the unexpected phenomenon or not. Hopefully not, because if she ever would like more children in the future, the chance of having triplets was a bit hard to fathom and a slight turn off. Two would prove difficult enough to raise, but three? Inconceivable. "encouraging." she mumbles a bit distantly, finally finishing her sentence while attempting to imagine the scenario of bearing three children simultaneously.
Silly thoughts are interrupted with the girls bump into each other, creating the quietest sound of downy fur and soft bodies colliding with one another. They were still standing, using each other as support until they found the balance of their own four feet. Breckin's cooling thoughts instantly find a spark again, the tight clench in her chest relaxing as a warmth fueled by pride and an unrequited love that she had never known before until now refilled her. They were so precious as they made their way closer to their parents again, already growing in their own confidence as they successfully found their own footing and source of food.
The weight of her own head was dragging her down again as exhaustion crept closer. Like earlier, she rested her speckled head across Leilan's spine, using his strength to support her own weight; she didn't think he would mind. "Thank you" she said quietly to him as sleep threatened to drag her under. For holding her up, for being there, for giving her their girls, she didn't get the chance to say all of it in that moment, but nonetheless she was thankful for it all.
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