"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
When he had told her that he loved her, Stellaria’s smile had outshone the stars on her coat and the ones in the sky. The new sun had been no match for them as she had held him close and told him how she loved him back, with every breath and every heartbeat.
Everything that followed from that summer day felt like a dream. They are never apart - at least not for any great length of time, and there is no other way she would rather spend her days and nights than with him. No greater thrill than when his opal skin brushes against the stars of hers.
And now?
The sun is setting when their daughter arrives, twilight - it would be poetic, the perfect mix of day and night, if Stellaria wasn’t feeling a very mortal weariness. Much like learning to fly, much like falling in love, she had assumed this part would come easily - but that is not what happened. In the midst of labour she had known regret. Not over him, never for that, but that they had created this life who had left her uncomfortable for months and then finally taught her what pain was.
Stellaria does not allow herself time to rest, bothered by the idea that she would even need it. She is excited to meet their child but the star-strewn mare reaches for him first when she stands - hoping he will be close as she breaths out his name on a ragged exhale. "Worship." Wanting and needing to touch him, and better yet to be touched by him, before anything else.
And only then does she turn to look at and to care for the new life, a smile warming her weary features. There had never been a doubt that they would make something beautiful but their daughter is already so perfect all other words escape her. Stellaria forgets her regret, forgets the pain, once the filly is standing and she looks for Worship again - the strength of her love for him, for the beginning of their family, filling every part of her.
This is such lethal perfection.
And he has not dared stray from her side.
He will never leave her side again unless she should ask it of him. He had made that mistake once and he would never make it again. Love had cast him as her shadow, this brilliant, beautiful woman who could bend the world to her will simply by dreaming it, whose smile made his heart stutter and stagger, whose touch hitched his breath.
If he could ease her pain, he would. If he could take it all unto himself, he would. If he could manipulate time to spirit the pair of them (mother and child) through the arduous, traumatic process of birth, he would. But he is a simple man whose only magic comes in the form of dreams of ruin, so all he can do is watch, heart in his throat, and wish he could do more.
And then, just as night bleeds across the sky in its truest form, the child arrives and her mother staggers to her feet, calling for him and he is there. He is there, never far from her, and he goes to her. He makes himself a soft place for her to land, this warrior of a woman, and she is so desperately beautiful and strong and he kisses her head and tells her that he loves her.
And so the first thing the child sees when she lifts her head is love against a backdrop of so many millions of stars. The first thing she sees is poetry as she unfurls her coltish limbs and struggles to her feet with the help of her mother. They are beautiful and so, as is the natural order of things, she is beautiful.
“Look what you made,” Worship says to Stellaria and he goes to their daughter and he gently touches his mouth to a folded wing. Next to her mother, she is the most stunning thing he has ever seen. “You are every bit as devastating as your mother, aren’t you?” he asks the child.
If ever there was a time for him to smile, it would almost certainly be now. But he just looks at the two of them, heart shattered by the sight of them.
you were the boat that breached in the tale of conrad
oh, i loved you with the good and the careless of me
but it all goes bad
Worship’s presence does not take away the pain but it helps, and when she reaches for him he is there. Just where she hoped he would be, where she knew he must be. Stellaria wants so much to close her eyes but she refuses - even blinks take away too much time that could be spent marvelling at the kaleidoscope of his skin, the way his golden eyes look when he says he loves her and she replies in kind.
None of these are moments that she wants to miss, no matter how tired she is. They are too precious - worthy of being immortalized in the stars.
With him, that mortal weakness does not feel so prevalent and she is able to find the energy to remain standing, to follow his movements when he goes towards the perfect life that they have made together. And Stellaria quietly replies with this thought “What we made, my love.”
Devastating is right, and Stellaria brushes her muzzle against his skin again as they stand there together. This first night that they will share as a family. Without a mother of her own, she relies on instinct to guide her, wishing both to marvel over the new life and at the magnificent partner with which she was created.
Soon she will need to rest, she will need to admit that she is weak and tired, but for a while longer Stellaria remains where she is - brushing a touch over the short mane of the filly. “What should we name her?” They'd discussed a few name ideas over the winter, but did any of them measure up to what they were both seeing?
We, she insists, but how can he take any credit for this?
It’s true that the girl is draped in fine opal, just as he is, but even still. He has to believe that even if he had not contributed in any way, she still would have sprung from her mother’s womb every bit as beautiful.
No, he cannot take credit for this when he believes that she has done this all on her own. She had labored away the long hours to bring the child into this world while he had merely stood watch, trembling with nerves.
No, she deserves all of the credit for the child who stands before them now, glowing softly in the darkness.
But he does not argue with Stellaria. Not only because he loves her but because this is such a tender, sacred moment that he does not dare ruin it with stubbornness. So he concedes, relents, kisses her so gently and then they both focus all of their attention on the girl who is looking back at them just as intently.
What a marvel they are, the three of them standing there in the darkness.
Soon dawn will begin to gather on the horizon, but for now it is quiet night and they are alone in the world and, for the moment, they are the only things that exist at all. And the filly’s skin trembles where her mother touches her and she leans into the warmth of her mother’s mouth, pleased with how loved she is already.
“Liesma,” Worship says without hesitation and the filly turns her head to look at him, understanding that this is her name. She looks up at her father with big, dark eyes and then turns to her mother, moving slowly, carefully to her hip and begins to drink.
And Worship sighs while he watches. “Could you have dreamed up something so beautiful?” he asks quietly.
you were the boat that breached in the tale of conrad
oh, i loved you with the good and the careless of me
but it all goes bad
