08-24-2015, 03:17 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-24-2015, 03:20 PM by Isetnofret.)
She felt like a failure. Every horrid thing her parents had ever said about her felt justified when she found out her baby had died. What had she done? In what way had she sinned or failed that had led to the loss of an innocent?
What a ridiculous thing to say. Iset thought angrily. My-our baby isn't lost. I know exactly where he is, and it isn't where he should be.
Isetnofret had been eager, excited to meet her child. Their child, of course, she had thought with a blush. Weir had been kind enough to agree to fathering a child as long as he could be involved. Iset had liked him from the first time she met him. She had known he would be a father nothing like her own. Weir was intelligent and kind and funny, although Iset suspected he didn't always mean to be. It was he and Elysteria who were beginning to show Iset that she wasn't devoid of family simple because her blood relations had failed her. The baby had felt like a part of that fresh start. The morab had been determined that her darling would never know cruelty at her hooves.
The black mare had been wandering the edges of the Meadow, desperately sad and not wanting to return to the Dale until she could compose herself. And yet, the loss wasn't growing easier to bear, and finally she sought out her family.
The walk back was a difficult one. As winter crept nearer, more and more mares were rounding out and showing their pregnancies. Iset did her best to avoid their joy. When she could take not one minute more, she ran. Her legs stretched beneath her, aching to be pushed, covering ground with reckless abandon.
She stumbled over nothing, and paused to steal a drink from a stream. Here she paused, reluctant to speak the words aloud that would break both their hearts.
"Weir." Iset whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.
HOCKETY, POCKETY, WOCKETY, WACK
Winter air curled around the roan’s limbs, stroking callous fingers across his hide. A winter coat only offered so much protection, and the bitter winds dipped into his growing cover with fervor. Winter would not pass soon enough this year, not soon enough at all. Weir was counting the days, ticking them off in his head as they passed. Come spring, come the birds and the blooms, he would have a child of his very own. Well, he would have to share probably.
Speaking of sharing, he had not seen the child’s Dam for some time now, her dark pelt absent against the fresh snow. He had taken to looking though, crawling over the expanse of the Kingdom, giving brief calls across the meadows. His amber eyes were alert, he checked the common spots three times over, but found nothing.
It went without saying that he was surprised, spotting her lightless form near the river today. Her silhouette creating smooth, fine lines against the stark backdrop. He blinked, confused but started towards her regardless. His hooves shuffled against the loose flurries, kicking them up and creating deep track marks as he went. ”Iset, I have been looking all over..” His sentence cut short, as her dark dial rose from the waters, moisture pooling at the corners of her eyes.
He took a quick look to notice just how thin she was, and how out-of-place that fact is. He steeled himself for bad news, surely there would be bad news. ”Iset?..Is everything all right?” His insides were screaming, clawing at the cage constricting his heart. The beating organ threatening to burst from his chest as he waited, he didn’t even noticed that he was holding his breath.
WEIR The Dale's Eccentric Magic Manipulator
08-24-2015, 06:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-24-2015, 06:47 PM by Isetnofret.)
She doesn't want to tell him. Oh gods, how she doesn't want to tell him. The pain of loss has so far been hers alone to bear. Seeing it reflected in his eyes is a torture she does not feel prepared to handle. The baby's death will be a tangible thing. She will not be able to hide her shame.
Iset is not surprised that Wier is there when she lifts her head, but she is quietly grateful and it shows in her dark gaze. His arrival means she does not have to wander amongst the blossoming mares to find him, each one a visible reminder of the failure laid against Iset's conscience. She would give a great deal for her grief to remain private. She does not want to fall apart.
Yet the weight of her sorrow is inevitable.
She straightens her body, doing her best to steady her voice. Her words have a robotic edge to them, her defense against crumpling under the weight.
"I am sorry you have been looking for me, Weir. I wanted to come sooner, but it was… difficult. I didn't want-I don't want to see you hurt."
She flicks her tail miserably, allowing herself a moment's pause before she rushes forward.
"I lost the baby, Weir." Iset's voice grew thick with tears. "He was born too early, just as he was beginning to form. I'm so sorry. So very sorry."
Sobs shake her sides, and she takes a step forward and then two, and hovers next to his warm body. So different from the cold, lifeless little one she had to leave. Iset aches to touch the stallion, her whole being craving comfort, but she feels stiff and uncertain of her welcome.
She wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see her again. She feels sick with the loss of the child, and now possibly the loss of this stallion whom she cares for. To lose it all as she has found a family would be incredibly cruel.
08-24-2015, 09:10 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-24-2015, 09:12 PM by Elysteria.)
love is a temporary madness... A fluffy layer of snow had fallen over the night, adding a newness, a freshness, to everything about her. Her bright bay head is lifted into the crisp air as she inhales deeply of the cold scent. Though the breath burns her lungs slightly, it does not halt her. Her dark forelock falls over her russet eyes, shadowing their depths briefly as she glances across the smooth, untouched expanse of the freshly lain snow. Her gaze catches upon a figure in the distance, and she smiles. She easily recognizes Iset’s small frame, a stark contrast against the paleness of the frozen Dale.
She starts forward eagerly, intent upon greeting her friend. She sees Weir then, approaching Iset, and she suppresses a knowing smile. The two had become thick as thieves since her arrival, and she suspected they might have a new addition to the Dale come springtime. It isn’t until she closes in upon the pair that she realizes that something is terribly wrong. The normally laid back stallion is tense, focused too intently upon the black mare before him. Though Weir never misses a word, she has never seen him that fixated upon any one thing before.
The smile slips from her lips, a furrow forming as concern hits her. She can see clearly now that Iset is terribly upset. The mare’s head is dipped low, expression filled with grief. Elysteria’s gut knots in worry as she approaches the two standing close together. She steps to Iset’s side, opposite of Weir, questioning concern in her warm russet gaze.
“Iset?”
She does not need to question any further however. She catches the last of her words to Weir and she knows her grief.
“Oh Iset.”
The words are soft, filled with sorrow. She knows only too well the pain of losing a child. Knows the unimaginable heartbreak of staring at a still, lifeless, perfect form, praying that a miracle would occur and knowing that it would not. She had been there, grief wracking her body just as it did now her friends. She knows no words are sufficient. She hopes that her very presence here is not an intrusion, understanding if it is. Offering the only thing that she possibly can, her comfort and support, she presses her dark muzzle against Iset’s shoulder softly, her grief and sorrow for her nearly tangible. elysteria
HOCKETY, POCKETY, WOCKETY, WACK
It took an amazing amount of self-control for Weir to not empty his stomach at her words. Even then all the self-control in the world could not keep the nauseated feeling in his stomach at bay. The sudden, never-ending emptiness that fills him wholly. He finds himself unusually stiff, as if he is strained in the attempt to simply keep himself standing. His brain failed to tell his legs to move, ceased to instruct his body on what it was supposed to be doing. For a moment he cannot breathe, but the lack of oxygen catches up to him, as it always does. A slow sucking of air fills his lungs and he is unsure whether or not he exists, that this is in fact happening.
Weir hears her words, or he knows he could hear them but that did little for his full comprehension. If he could not fully grasp them then they would not be true, would they? Are they?
The roan knows he should take action, should in some way comfort the sullen mare standing so near him. All he can manage to do his look past her at the gentle words that slip from somewhere. Elysteria has made their way to them, his amber eyes look through her unable to see. He gulps loudly trying his best to send the lump in his throat back to where it had started, to sink it somewhere in the pit of his falling stomach. He is trying and failing to make things okay, to fix this for her and for himself.
WEIR The Dale's Eccentric Magic Manipulator
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