12-16-2018, 11:33 PM
It's become normal, really, all the things they're thinking but not saying. They fall apart, they come back together. Even when it's bad, even when it's really bad-- They've built a house out of heartache and love, ruin and desire, and at the end of the day(, or year, or decade) they crawl inside together and they call it home.
So even when the deep blues roll over him, even when his heart bleeds so much that he would have it cauterized, he wouldn't have it any other way. The sight of his newborn daughter reminds him of that. He smiles, a little sadly, and he knows that all this sorrow and all this joy, this is exactly what he deserves. But Evenstar deserves better.
Maybe it's noble, the burdens they carry. Maybe it's unhealthy. It seems to him that he doesn't have a choice in the matter, anyway. His soul is hopelessly drawn to hers, it always has, and he thinks hers is drawn to his as well. Otherwise she would have left, really left, long ago.
"I love your name suggestions," she says in that tone that feels like its just for him.
"Evenstar," the name rests like a crown on her lips, and then it is passed with a kiss to their daughter and the green stallion hums his agreement. "Max for short," she says next, and he laughs. He laughs like he hasn't laughed in a while, and his belly hurts afterwards. "What have I done? I'm so sorry, child," he reaches down to lip at at Evenstar's white forelock.
Ryatah probably knows, because she knows him better than he does himself, sometimes, that he is still a little proud to call his daughter Max, almost as proud as he is to call her Evenstar. It seems a good thing to give a child two names, so that when they're old enough they can pick whichever one suits them.
Ryatah presses against him, fever-hot, and the worry comes back even though she tries to kiss it away, even though she tries to reassure him. He wants to say "I won't let her out of my sight," but that seems like a promise he can't keep. He wants his daughter safe, but he wants her free, and these two things seem at odds in times like this. "Okay," he says simply, and he knows she'll hear the uncertainty in his voice but he hopes she'll hear the commitment in it too, the effort. The will to be, truly, okay. He mostly just believes in the sentiment because of the wayRyatah calls him love.
Their daughter is stupidly cute. He doesn't usually like children but he can't help but smile as she presses her baby-soft muzzle to his and then settles down beneath them. "She's special," he says softly to Ryatah. They all are, of course, but Evenstar is somehow different.
They stand for a few minutes in sleepy silence. His heart still feels too heavy for sleep, his ears too focused on the rasp of Ryatah's breathing. It sounds thin and wet and he can tell by its lightness that she is not sleeping yet. "How are you feeling?" He asks very quietly, not wanting to disrupt the drowsy, peaceful hush they rest in.
@[Ryatah] <3
So even when the deep blues roll over him, even when his heart bleeds so much that he would have it cauterized, he wouldn't have it any other way. The sight of his newborn daughter reminds him of that. He smiles, a little sadly, and he knows that all this sorrow and all this joy, this is exactly what he deserves. But Evenstar deserves better.
Maybe it's noble, the burdens they carry. Maybe it's unhealthy. It seems to him that he doesn't have a choice in the matter, anyway. His soul is hopelessly drawn to hers, it always has, and he thinks hers is drawn to his as well. Otherwise she would have left, really left, long ago.
"I love your name suggestions," she says in that tone that feels like its just for him.
"Evenstar," the name rests like a crown on her lips, and then it is passed with a kiss to their daughter and the green stallion hums his agreement. "Max for short," she says next, and he laughs. He laughs like he hasn't laughed in a while, and his belly hurts afterwards. "What have I done? I'm so sorry, child," he reaches down to lip at at Evenstar's white forelock.
Ryatah probably knows, because she knows him better than he does himself, sometimes, that he is still a little proud to call his daughter Max, almost as proud as he is to call her Evenstar. It seems a good thing to give a child two names, so that when they're old enough they can pick whichever one suits them.
Ryatah presses against him, fever-hot, and the worry comes back even though she tries to kiss it away, even though she tries to reassure him. He wants to say "I won't let her out of my sight," but that seems like a promise he can't keep. He wants his daughter safe, but he wants her free, and these two things seem at odds in times like this. "Okay," he says simply, and he knows she'll hear the uncertainty in his voice but he hopes she'll hear the commitment in it too, the effort. The will to be, truly, okay. He mostly just believes in the sentiment because of the wayRyatah calls him love.
Their daughter is stupidly cute. He doesn't usually like children but he can't help but smile as she presses her baby-soft muzzle to his and then settles down beneath them. "She's special," he says softly to Ryatah. They all are, of course, but Evenstar is somehow different.
They stand for a few minutes in sleepy silence. His heart still feels too heavy for sleep, his ears too focused on the rasp of Ryatah's breathing. It sounds thin and wet and he can tell by its lightness that she is not sleeping yet. "How are you feeling?" He asks very quietly, not wanting to disrupt the drowsy, peaceful hush they rest in.
@[Ryatah] <3