"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
He doesn’t remember much and perhaps that is a good thing. It had been like a long sleep, nonexistent and nearly restful. The farthest he can remember (after he had accepted his fate) is a cold darkness finding him and swaddling him, like an old friend. His newest memory, however, is a girl with flowers in her hair ushering him and urging him to awaken and follow her. He did, of course, because Svedka can never tell a pretty girl no. Her name was Flower and she - along with a few others - brought Beqanna and all of those it lost back into the light.
Svedka’s youngest brother had holed himself up during the eclipse and even with Svedka’s resurrection from the underworld, still kept to himself. Something about being unable to stop the events that had unfolded.
The stallion is wandering aimlessly (or so he thinks) through his familiar volcanic home. He isn’t sure what to do with himself besides wander, and so he finds solace in wading in some warm tide pools that sparkle dimly in the sunlight. A few moments pass and he realizes he isn’t alone. A single ear tips back before his head turns with it, an inquisitive but curious look on his handsome face.
“You were just the one I was hoping to see,” he muses softly into the shadows of the treeline, wondering if Vastra had been stalking him all morning (and also wondering why she hadn’t attacked him upon first sight). The stallion allows his body to follow the direction of his head, straightening and facing where he believes her to be, though he can’t be sure. Perhaps it is from his absence, or the reminder of how much he hated being alone, but he adds with a smirk: “I’ve missed you.”
Vastra had occasionally thought she caught Svedka’s scent throughout the eclipse. Every time she followed the trail and every time she was disappointed. At the beginning it happened more frequently, before the movement of everyone else in Tephra began to cover the trails he used to leave. The most recent times it had been either one of his family members, which had been embarrassing, or their twins.
And while she did love their children, seeing them reminds her she’s saddled with the very uncomfortable feeling that there is actually someone in this world that she misses.
She follows this trail without much hope, though it is stronger than the others, and is surprised to see him at the end of it. She stands there in the treeline, dumfounded, waiting to wake up from this dream. Because it does feel like a dream - him wading in a pool that shimmers in the sunlight as she watches in the shadows. She’s had this dream before, though she’s never told anyone about it and will certainly die before admitting it.
He doesn’t speak in her dream, though, because she’s forgotten his voice. So when he does now it slams her into the presence and Vastra realizes this is real.
Right in that moment, she’s not thinking about how mad she is at him for impregnating her and then leaving her with two children to raise. She’s not thinking about how she’d very much like to tear him apart (and then kiss those wounds better). She’s thinking about how happy she is to see him alive and as she replies in a rough, quiet voice “I missed you too” her entire body begins to sparkle. She does not notice at first because her storm-grey eyes are on him but the shine becomes obnoxious enough that she looks down, sees her happiness on full display, and then it flickers as her ears flatten and she charges into the pool towards him with little grace and hisses “You fucking bastard.”
Why is it that whenever a new path opens for him, he is suddenly whisked away? The lion had taken much of his time from him (more than he would care to count) and Carnage the same - then the world itself devoured him. He wonders if he is cursed, not meant to be in this world yet somehow able to return to it, with time stripped away and a new scar to remind him that in some way he does not belong.
The tidepool is warm as its tiny ripples lap at his ankles, tiny silvered minnows that had gotten caught up within the tide tickling him as they brush past, mistaking the ivory and gold hair for food. Svedka barely notices this feeling, of course, for the bright cerulean of his gaze remains on the deep tawny silhouette of Vastra - once she had stepped from the shadows and brought herself into the warmth of the Tephran sunlight.
She is as he remembers (and perhaps that mean not too much time had truly been lost, though the thought spurs a coldness in his stomach he can’t yet face) - steely gray eyes that somehow burn and freeze him all at once, the scent of the wind on her striped downy feathers and even her voice, smooth as silk yet heavy enough to keep him fully attentive. As her confession falls from her tawny lips, however, there is something he is certain he does not remember.
Svedka notices before her and something so spectacular could be the only thing that averted his eyes from her. He snorts softly, lifting his head with surprise at the gentle twinkle that alights across her entire body - completely magical and glittering. Svedka’s mouth is slightly agape as a little laugh escapes him, half in awe and half in surprise, when Vastra rushes him. His laugh is cut short and his own ears fall back as well, straightening himself and preparing to pivot away from her if needed. Though it is one reason he is drawn to her, Svedka can never be too sure of her next move.
When it is clear she does not mean to attack him, the stallion relaxes. He stretches his neck towards her, huffing gently with the wrinkled pink of his nose. “I’ve been called worse,” he murmurs playfully, stepping towards her in a sweeping movement so they are nearly chest to chest, nibbling at her crest. A bold move after being gone for so long, but worth any pain she may inflict from such a tender gesture.
“You seem as surprised as I am,” Svedka comments, his light blue eyes reflecting with the sparkles of her skin.
Svedka says he’s been called worse and she’s certainly inventing a few creative terms for him in her mind right now. As he meets her and they are so close. Her ears flatten and she gestures with a harsh nod of her head to the sparkling that is fading in and out with her conflicting moods. “This is… new.” Vastra wasn’t someone prone to happiness, so it had not happened much - but one day Sundari and Ciroc were meeting Chel and she had laughed and then she had started sparkling. Her daughters weren’t likely to ever let her hear the end of it. And since then, whenever she feels joy it comes out - displaying her emotions for all to see.
It has not happened often. And when it does, it is normally quick to fade as embarrassment and anger wash in and take over.
Now though? Of course he was going to witness the full effect. Of course.
“I’m mad at you.” She curses but the sparkling does not dim from her skin. It intensifies, much to her annoyance, when he nips at her crest and she’s furious with how quickly delight and pleasure course through her at that touch. As though no time has passed at all. Any anger that she tries to focus on slips through her grasp quickly. This reunion is too new and though Vastra had imagined kicking him in the face when she saw him again, if she saw him again, she doesn’t move away to strike.
Because she had missed him. More than she thought she would.
Because there are other things she imagined doing upon their reunion.
“I’m so glad you’re not dead but I’m mad at you.” She tells him as she nips at his skin though the action contradicts those last few words (true as they may be). It is gentle compared to what she’s done in the past as she relearns his scent and the pattern of white and gold on his neck. Vastra is a bold mare, she does not hesitate over much, but a little restraint feels appropriate now. She is bold but she has enough of a brain to not be presumptuous and the soft brush of her muzzle against where she had just nipped his skin is a question of permission to keep doing so.
“I like it,” he confesses with a gentle shrug, though he knew that Vastra couldn’t care less about his approval. Despite the out-of-place way she glitters and shines, he does find it quite becoming on her. Svedka fails to mention this part aloud, as he would much rather keep that to himself than for her sequestered rage to come fully apparent (at least not yet, for though her rage is wild and unpredictable, even he cannot forget how it spurs most - if not all - of their couplings).
She admits her anger towards him and he appears aloof, leaning back slightly to peer at her from the tangle of his brilliant white and blue forelock. “I’d be worried if you weren’t,” comes his casual reply, accompanied with the quirk of a single brow and the softest smile traveling across his pink mouth. He’s reminded of where he had actually been in his disappearance (a place he cannot rename or recall, a void of nothingness) and there is a solemnity that taints the otherwise bright eyes of the milk-and-honey stallion. “Not even the earth swallowing me up would keep me safe from your wrath.” There is laughter in his voice, though the truth of his disappearance lays heavily within it.
Her ferocity - though mulled for the time being - makes Svedka, oddly enough, feel grounded. He has truly returned (not only created a dream for himself) and Vastra is living proof of it. The sting of her teeth against the curve of his neck is enough to appease whatever doubts he may have had, the soothing balm of her lips warmly pressing into the same spot bringing a trembling sigh from his now-parted lips. The honey-gold skin of his neck shivers, his nostrils inhaling deeply her familiar smell. A deep nicker reverberates in his chest as he embraces her, resting his cheek against the tawny of her sloping neck.
“I think that’s the closest you’ll admit to liking me out loud.” Svedka laughs into her neck, nibbling heatedly. She has shown him her affection in other ways, of course, but talking had never been their go-to for displaying emotions. Despite this, the stallion does not dive in - much like her, he is hesitant and cautious, for even he does not know how much time has truly passed between them. Nothing seems out of place, of course, but a multitude of things could have occurred while he slept just beneath the ground. “What have I missed, besides your touch?” A smirk, devilish and purposeful, presses into her throat, humming gently as his eyes close.
05-16-2021, 04:55 PM (This post was last modified: 05-16-2021, 05:29 PM by Vastra.)
Vastra ignores his comment on the sparkling, except for a slight roll of her eyes. It didn’t change her distaste towards it to know he liked it, he wasn’t the one who lit up whenever he was happy, but she finds that she doesn’t mind that he likes something else about her. She doesn’t expect it to last long, anyway. Surely she’ll find a reason to be annoyed or furious before long and the sparkling will fade, leaving her as plain as she preferred.
She doesn’t know what to do when she catches the solemn look in his eyes, nor the heavy truth of where he had been. Vastra is just as bad at comfort as she is talking. There’s a quick, tentative brush of her muzzle against his though this doesn’t feel quite right. So she follows it up with teasing words. “And don’t you forget it.” She would have followed him into the earth to rage at him if she had known how, would’ve shouted into every abyss she could find if she thought he would hear it.
Her storm eyes dance at his reaction to her touch, the sigh and the deep nicker that it encourages from him. The embrace that comes is welcome, it is pleasant, and Vastra reminds herself to not be brash. To not push or demand more of him. She didn’t know what it meant, to be swallowed by the earth, and what that might change. Not much, she thinks, but maybe enough. She typically didn’t give much thought to what he did outside of when they were together - except when she had thought he had run off before at least meeting the children he had sired. It had been two years since they were last together, though that didn't matter much to her - there had also been a considerable time between their first meeting and when she had shown up here, too late to find the lion but discovering a willing and enjoyable partner all the same.
It is a strange thing, to be known as well as Svedka seems to know her - her sandy ears twitching with the enjoyable sound of his laughter and it manages to distract her from the trace of his nibbling. The playful-but-rough nip that she lands on his skin is answer enough - he’s right, that is the closest she’ll get to admitting she liked him out loud. There were far more enjoyable ways to show him that truth.
Vastra thinks but will not say that she’d much prefer for him to show her just how much he’s missed her touch than answering his question. Her frustration that he keeps talking instead of doing anything else is lessened by the press of his smirk against her throat, the humming she can feel in her skin that sparkles a little brighter as something close to happiness courses through her.
No, she is happy. She's many things in this moment but she is happy and she feels a little more alive too - and wants to share that feeling with him.
“Just my touch.” She replies in a low voice next to his ear but - since talking isn’t something she’s good at - she also doesn’t know when to shut up. So even though her mind has turned solidly to other things, she continues in her quiet, rough voice after using her teeth to tug on his mane needily. “And that we have twins.”
She steadies him with a gentle brush of her muzzle against his honey-gold skin; a type of steadying that doesn’t heal the parts of him that have been mangled and torn, but soothes such an ache. Though it does not ease the swirling uncertainty, it brings the stallion comfort. Svedka murmurs into the tawny of her jawline as her teeth scrape forcefully on his neck, his breath sweet and warm against her skin. She pulls at him and he obliges, getting rid of any space left between them with a sweeping step towards her.
Then, he pauses. “Twins?”
Something like confusion hardens all the lazy lines of his face, contorting his expression until it is clear that sheer disappointment washes over him like the Tephran tide. How could he have forgotten? His heart twists, realizing that he has left another partner to birth his children completely alone once again. He removes his touch from Vastra’s skin so that he can look into her eyes where concern blossoms within his own.
“I should have been there,” he confesses with a tightness in his voice. It is the same thing he had said to Ilma and it feels worse saying it for the second time. He hadn’t meant to be absent (though he had never dreamed of being a father, the role had been easy for him to fill) for either of them and there is a twinge of regret that stings in his chest. For the first time in his life, he doubts his ability to be a worthy partner. “I’m sorry, Vastra.” His voice is genuine and soft as he closes the space between them again, realizing that he now reached for her instead of the other way around.
He buries his head into the flaxen tendrils of her mane, inhaling the scent of clean air and wind. He doesn’t deserve her kindness, but he asks anyway. “I’d like to meet them, if that’s okay?”
Vastra only has herself to blame for the way Svedka is pressed up against her one moment and then moving back so that their eyes meet. The sparkling on her coat and wings fades when she hears the tightness in his voice. She’d wanted to tell him, of course - he deserved to know about their children. She just had set her mind on other things while they stood in this glittering pool of water.
She tries to think about how she would have felt, if she hadn’t been there for Brunhilde or Chel. It surely would have filled her with rage and guilt. She doesn’t see any anger in Svedka’s brilliant gaze, though she almost wishes there was some. Vastra knew how to react to anger - she could meet it with her own. She wouldn’t even need to think about it, and those are her favourite interactions.
“You should have been.” She agrees, a little too forcefully - but like her bite, she follows it with something softer. She tries to pretend she knows how to offer comfort when it is not something she’s known - though it comes a little easier when he closes the gap between them again and she can brush a gentle touch against his skin again. Nothing needy about the action this time. “But I… I don’t hold it against you, Svedka.”
She hadn’t known until now that he had a good excuse for not being around, but now that she knows he had not just been avoiding her and the girls she will not hold onto a grudge. Her anger lingers but she doesn’t yet realize that it is because she had missed him, not for anything else. And since she doesn’t know what to do with that feeling, it gets pushed into anger like so many of the other emotions she does not know how to deal with.
Vastra had wanted him to meet the twins, that was why she had given birth to them here. That was all she was going to ask of him, and she would not have minded if he did not want more. When he could not be found, she had stayed without thinking about it.
The idea that she had been waiting for Svedka to return is not one Vastra can handle so she brushes it aside and pretends it does not exist.
“Of course you can meet them. Their names are Ciroc and Sundari - both girls. Both blue.” She says this with a grin when she twists her head to lip at the blue streaks of his hair, and that damned sparkling returns. “They’re about two now…” She isn’t sure whether this is something he knows already, or if time had moved differently for him. It doesn’t bother her, that time, but she does not want it to be a shock when he sees them for the first time and discovers only then that they are practically grown.
For all her attempts at kindness, Vastra doesn’t give much time to let that settle in before asking “Do you want to go now?”
Svedka has always found comfort in Vastra’s fierceness and now he is even thankful for it. He doesn’t deserve to be coddled (not that he ever enjoyed it, anyway) and when she agrees with him, his contrite cerulean gaze snaps to hers. There is a moment of clarity that he feels in the steely-grey of her eyes, something like understanding intertwined with a twinge of sadness - regret, even? He has never been a truly present father in the past, but his loyalty to his children is nearly a fault. He should do better, he repremends himself inwardly, snorting softly as the yellow-gold of his ears tip back into the flaxen and blue of his mane. Her anger is warranted (not everlasting, however) and he allows it to seep into his skin and soften his heart.
“Trouble seems to follow me wherever I go,” he huffs nonchalantly, his tone lackadaisical despite the truth in his statement and accompanied by a dramatic flick of his tail against his milk-and-honey flank. “Is that okay with you?”
The overo stallion smiles. Twin girls. He has yet to father a son and he wonders if there is some kind of odd twist in the universe, giving him spirited and reckless daughters so much like himself. Vastra tugs at the deep cerulean blue that intermingles in the pale white of his mane, the same delicate blue that is so apparent in both Ciroc and Sundari. He’s even happy at Vastra’s choice in names - he’d never been any good at them and he doubts she would have let him have a say anyway.
The gentle sparkling of her skin awakens him again, bringing him from his reverie and for a moment, fixating on the gentle glow that travels like waves across the tawny gold of her neck and cheeks. Vastra’s voice softens (not much, but enough for him to tilt his head curiously) as she mentions the twins’ ages and Svedka feels his throat tighten.
He’s been beneath the earth for two years.
With a gentle toss of his head, he swallows the pitfall feeling in his stomach and offers Vastra a classic, lopsided smile - one that he hopes she finds comforting and inviting.
“I think,” he begins, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, “I should do whatever it is you would like me to do. It has been two years, after all.”
“Trouble does not frighten me.” She tells him, certainty in her voice and a challenge in those stormy eyes. And she’s so sure that she can fight anything that might trouble them. She would not have been able to stop what had happened to him but Vastra likes to think that she could have, if she had been around when it happened. But instead of such ifs she thinks to the future and the ones that exist there - she believes that whatever trouble he faces she’ll stand next to him and fight.
Is it that she cares for him or just any excuse to bring out the claws?
She does find the smile comforting, his words inspiring a small laugh as she shakes her head. But her eyes are bright when she replies. “What I would like you to do is selfish.” And it was, she knew that. He was barely back and while the things racing through her mind are familiar territory that she would find comforting, she does not know if he would as well.
She suspects, maybe even hopes, because though they are different in many ways there are some in which they are matched. But Vastra, for all her quick temper, is patient and learning to be understanding. The demanding need in her will not surface again until she knows for certain it is reciprocated.
So she just smiles back at him, glittering beneath his gaze and trying to not be too annoyed by it as she reaches out to brush a touch against him again as her low voice continues. “So the real question is what would you like to do?” And here her grin grows as this lioness tries to be playful. “This is your welcome party, after all.”
