"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
05-24-2021, 12:27 PM (This post was last modified: 05-24-2021, 12:27 PM by Padme.)
She watches Ciri from afar, from the frigid shadows. Snow drifts quietly down in sparse flakes while Pad watches her new friend talk to the Isle’s long time leader, Leilan. The graying paint mother has never met him, but his name’s been uttered in her presence before, and the festival he hosted not long ago made him all the more recognizable to Padme. She watches carefully, tentative, cautious, timid even – it’s her baby that makes her act this way, like a fallow deer in a grove of hungry wolves. Her muscles are tight and her ears upright, her nostrils flared and quivering as she breathes as quietly as she can. Mourna trembles at her side, cold and alarmed by her mother’s anxiety.
“Good?” she asks Ciri once the mare comes near, when she’s done with Leilan. Padme speaks quietly, trying to steady her voice; it seems the stallion did not yell or offend, so this is a good sign. Ciri’s body language seems to tell her things went fine, that Leilan is an acceptable individual, and nothing is off, but she wants to here her say it.
Once she’s sure he’s okay. That here is suitable, that Mourna will be accepted and safe, she will go forward and meet him. She’s ever grateful that Ciri went first, boldly, without any fear or nervousness at all – a warrior, like Pad’s freckled mother. “Thank you.” she whispers. 'Thank you for the company, for meeting him first, for becoming an unassuming partner'.
There’s a sense of relief that’s cleared some of the weight from her scarred shoulders and it shows as she nears Padme and Mourna. Her steps seem slightly lighter and there’s a smile on her lips that reflects in the swirling depths of her mercury gaze. It hadn’t always been there, during the rougher parts of their travel. As she comes closer to the huddled duo, sensing the anxiety coming from Padme, she tries her best to alleviate it by giving a nod in response to her question. “Leilan seems kind enough. We should be safe here.” She wickers softly to Mourna, giving the foal a soft nudge with her muzzle and blowing warm air against her skin raising her slashed face to look back at her dam.
Ciri had thought herself a cautious person but she paled in comparison to Padme’s motherly instincts. The mare had often been on guard, refusing to rest even when Ciri had offered to play lookout and known she was tired. Stepping closer to the shivering filly, to block her between the two of them and offer more warmth, she keeps her swirling eyes to Padme’s and can’t help but look away with an embarrassed grin at her thanks. “It’s nothing.” She shakes her head slightly, casting her gaze along the tundra with a slight frown. “I know it’s not the best place to raise a child but she should be protected here. There’s also a tree that always burns by the lake, it should help with the cold.”
Her own anxious gaze looks back to Padme, feeling guilty that she had taken the first opportunity that had been offered. Maybe Tephra would have been a better place for a foal or the canyons of Loess. She wouldn’t blame Padme if she ended up not wanting to stay but she hopes she will, that she might see the same hope that dances along the northern lights.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
Padme smiles, relieved. Touching Ciri softly as the mare dips in to touch the baby. Mourna leans into the scarred mare’s warm touch, by now she’s greatly familiar with the woman and her voice. Her presence is nearly as comforting as her mother’s, something she will look back on fondly when she’s grown.
“Oh, beautiful.” she smiles, taking in a deep breath. “I will go say hello shortly. I’m glad to hear he is decent.” her eyes scan the tundra. The cold is nothing to her, and the thought of raising Mourna in it, it doesn’t deter her any. Northern breeds are always the strongest of their kind. Thick skinned, crafty minds – survivors, fighters. It is no curse to be in the tundra, the wander the alpine snows, secluded from the rest of the world. “A fine winter coat will come with the temperatures – I’m quite fond of the cold, actually, and the snow.” she reaches out to touch Ciri’s shoulder softly, “You’re kind to worry about my satisfaction, but I am so grateful; this is perfect.” she finds her gaze lingering with the other woman’s for a long time. She blinks at her, as if she just now realizes something. Flicking her tail and changing the subject of what she started to think. “This will be a perfect place to raise her.” she looks down at the little red filly, always dreaming of her future.
It had been hard at first, being around Mourna and all the ‘what ifs” that had been stolen from her and her son when she had been spirited away from Beqanna. Yet that faded as she spent more time in their company, as a small part of that wound she had carried for so long started to heal with the joy of Mourna’s unbridled affection and enthusiasm towards life. Towards her. As the filly leans into her touch she can’t help but smile gently in return, warmth stirring the swirls of her mercury gaze before she looks back to Padme. That warmth lingering as she watches her relief, visibly relaxing as she dispels her own worries.
At Padme’s touch she dips her head slightly, unable to quite meet her gaze under the tone of her gratitude. “It was nothing.” She murmurs softly before looking back to her, finding an expression there that she can’t quite read but makes her pulse momentarily quicken. The tobiano’s tail flicks and she looks back to the red filly, each distracting themselves from whatever had been held briefly in that moment. “What do you think Mourna? Should we explore or would you rather rest?” She gives the girl an encouraging grin as her stars sparkle around her, shining brightly against the northern lights that dance behind her.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
