"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
Fatherhood, or whatever the hell this was, suited Vastra so much more than being a mother had. Her memories of her first children (or, at least, her first horse children) were hazy but she did not remember a strong sense of love. She cared for them, kept them safe, and that was it.
They had not been born of the same affection Chel had.
All through the winter, Vastra had guarded the pregnant Brunhilde - often as a lioness, deterring any equine or another predator from getting too close. The flood of joy she had felt upon being told they were expecting was second only to the wave she felt on the day Chel had been born. Vastra had not known there could be happiness like this - had not known she could be like this or that there was this much love in the whole world.
As the dawn breaks over the young filly - Vastra knows for the first time in her life how her father could have sacrificed himself to save her. She would do nothing less for her family.
Today she has changed her favourite mountain lion shape for a leopard as she lounges on a thick branch of a nearby tree. A soft noise, halfway between a purr and a growl, rumbles from deep in her stomach as she calls to her daughter - urging Chel to wake, to come find her.
07-22-2020, 09:39 AM (This post was last modified: 07-22-2020, 09:40 AM by Chel.)
c h e l
The girl yawned and stretched her baby-wings that were still covered in feathers far too small to carry her weight, much to her chagrin. The movement startled her butterflies, though, who stirred and fluttered around the girl.
Save for the one that rested right on the tip of her nose.
And it tickled.
The girl froze as the tiny butterfly feet danced between her nostrils. She wrinkled her baby skin to try to get it to depart immediately but the creature continued the tortuous dance. Chel was practically vibrating with the effort of containing herself. The filly squeezed her topaz eyes shut but finally, the sneeze that seemed to build from her tiny hooves all the way to her fuzzy ears finally erupted - launching the butterfly skyward to its brethren.
She shook her head to clear the behemoth sneeze and her topaz eyes fluttered back open. She looked down at her hooves to find…paws. The sneeze had triggered a shift, so like her Ma, instead of equine-Chel there stood jaguar-Chel.
”UGH DAMNIT NOT AGAIN!” she exclaimed - filled to the brim with childhood angst - before slamming her mouth shut, having realized what she said.
Panic set in as she frantically looked around to see which of her parents had heard this particular exclamation.
“Oops,” she added, sheepishly, looking up at her Ma, awaiting judgment.
The leopard watches from her branch as the butterflies, not her call, wakes up her daughter. She grins as she watches the battle of sleep and needing to sneeze play out - her own dark nose twitching in sympathy with how it would feel to have one of those golden insects tickling her nose. And when Chel practically explodes with a sneeze the leopard Vastra laughs. It’s a brighter, warmer sound than she has made in a very long time. Coming from a part of her she did not know existed.
And at the curse - minor as it was - she grins, and there’s a separate chuckle for when Chel catches herself and realizes what she just said - and when they make eye contact. The smile disappears and it is then that Vastra jumps down from the branch, landing neatly right in front of Chel - flicking her leopard tail - her storm grey eyes twinkling with a smile that contrasts the faux-serious tone that she uses when she speaks. “Watch your damn mouth, Chel.” She says it quietly and accompanies it with a wink.
Their secret.
She sits then, her tail curling around her spotted paws. “Did you have any good dreams?” She eyes the butterflies - both Brunhilde’s and Chel’s always seem to give her a wide berth and she can’t say she minds. Any that might drift too close could find themselves being swatted at with a clawed paw and they seem to instinctively understand the unspoken threat.
Dread seeps into her bones as she stares up at her much-larger leopard mother. Chel doesn’t move. Blink.
She can feel her heartbeat accelerate in her now-feline chest - pounding furiously against her ribs.
She inhales sharply as she waits for judgment...
And the unleashes all of the air she’d been holding in a rush as relief floods her system. Chel doesn’t even attempt to hide the conspiratorial smile that explodes across her features at her Ma’s words. The anxiety about her slip-up all but evaporates. Clearly she was her mother’s daughter.
But then Vastra asks about her dreams - a innocuous question that most children wouldn’t think too deeply into.
But not Chel who had already developed a preponderance for overthinking.
Dreams.
Had she had any good dreams? Had she had any dreams at all? Surely she did and just couldn’t remember. Her brow furrowed as she tried, in vain, to remember but the secrets of her dreams remained hidden - even from her.
She looked back up at her Ma. ”I...think so...?” she said - uncertainty in every word. He cocked her leopard-head to the side as she thought, looking to Atzi for some sort of validation. But the little ocelot simply shrugged her feline shoulders.
“I don’t remember,” she finally admitted, feeling like she should have remembered and worrying something was wrong. Big, feline eyes looked up at her Ma, the concern evident.
“Is that normal - not remembering?” she asked, cautiously.
It had meant to be a simple question, one Vastra vaguely remembers her mother asking her before their world fell apart, but she regrets it when she can see Chel giving it serious thought as though the answer to the question troubled her.
At first Vastra thinks the girl must be having nightmares, but that turns out not to be true.
Still, the concern in Chel’s gaze makes Vastra’s heart squeeze in a way she didn’t know what possible. It wounds her to see her baby girl so worried, and before she even thinks about it she moves forward to press her muzzle against Chel’s spotted head - purring soft reassurances. “It is. I don’t remember most of mine - or they fade before I’m fully awake.”
It is mostly true, anyway. Sometimes the worst dreams linger, but she’d prefer Chel to remember no dreams at all than to remember only the dark ones.
In an effort to undo what her fumbling attempts at motherhood had just done, she steps back and crouches in a playful stance, her spotted tail flicking behind her as a devious smile brightens her stormy eyes. “Come on, let’s see how big of a tree you can climb.”
Chel blew out a big breath at her Ma’s reassurances, leaning into the mountain lion’s soft fur. The action sent her butterflies scattering, but she paid them no heed. They’d be back. They always came back. Atzi amused herself chasing the stragglers for the time being, given Chel a few moments with her Ma.
“Okay good,” she finally mutters against her Ma’s soft fur. She drew in a deep breath filled with her Ma’s scent and could literally feel the anxiety calm. While she was quick to stress she was even quicker to calm – one of the benefits of youth when everything is still so uncomplicated. Chel watches as her Ma pulls away, again cocking her feline head to the side wondering what she was up to. And her eyes light up at the idea of a challenge. Ma certainly knew exactly how to make her feel better.
“Oh! I bet I’m pretty good at climbing,” she said, excited again, glancing down at the claws protruding from her leopard paws. Shifting was something she was still getting the hang of, but she could already tell that this form was going to be one of her favorites. And it only seemed right, given that her Ma was so fond of cats.
But deep down, Chel also longed to learn to fly. She knew her wings were to small and knew that even if she tried to shift into a bird they’d still be too undeveloped to sustain flight, but she suspected that one of her primary shifts was a bird like her mother’s was the mountain lion. She knew that she had the rest of her life to figure it out, but Chel was an impatient little thing. Impulsive. Demanding. It was truly a mystery where she’d inherited such traits.
But for the time being, she was more than content to test the limits of her leopard, and bounded towards the largest tree within eyesight – beckoning both her Ma and Atzi forward. “Race ya to the top!” she shouted, back over her shoulder, before dissolving into giggles.
There’s a beautiful, peaceful moment where Chel breathes in deep and Vastra does too - but neither of them are made for long peaceful stretches. Their family is one of movement, of challenges, and Chel takes to the idea of a climb with ease - moving off to the biggest tree in sight (of course! Vastra did not see her daughter shying away from anything).
Vastra does, briefly, consider turning into a bird and flying right to the top of the tree. And she might have if Chel were a little older and they had at least a few flying lessons under them. As it was, the now-jaguar girl was too young and it seemed a little unkind to rub it in. It’ll only be a matter of time before her daughter starts outpacing her in any sort of race - but she’s the only one Vastra will happily lose to.
It hardly feels like losing to hear her daughter laugh, after all - or see that wild grin.
So the leopard stretches first before bounding after her daughter and then leaping in one practised arc to the lowest branch, before peering down. Her storm-coloured eyes are shining with laughter as she crouches, not immediately moving upwards, but instead waiting for her daughter to get up as well. A lazy paw dangles down as she waits for Chel and Atzi to join her.
