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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    Beneath this sky of powerlines // Ivar, any
    #3
    Is it terrible, that for the first few moments of clarity her sons are strangers to her? That the approaching stallion draws a subconscious flinching reaction from her bones, that flight instinct still singing through her too-fast beating heart? Tears prick the backs of her eyes as she stands frozen, invisible roots anchoring her to the gritty sand. Warm solid bodies press up against either side. With some surprise she finds the support necessary, the strength in her own legs untrustworthy. Necessary, and repulsive. 

    They touch her, and she feels her skin crawl. A flat laugh creeps up her throat at Ivar's comments, acknowledging his guidance as they begin moving away from the waves. Raul had taken position at her side, his winged brother trailing half a step behind. She was back, and he didn't know how. And at the moment, it felt like she wasn't back at all, just a ghost of the mother he remembered. Her ribs poked into his side, the skin tight to her bones, anemic skin visible through the patchy feathers on her pale wings. Wherever she had been these months gone, it did not seem to be a happy place. His eyes flicked to his brother, then back to the thin mare between he and Ivar. Was she always this small? His shoulder actually reached over hers now... 

    Tana felt so helpless. Ivar was here, which was a massive relief. The aquatic stallion was the closest thing the twins knew for a father figure, and the only parent they'd had in recent time. Raul was ready to help, as usual. His bigger frame seemed well suited to assisting their mother to a safer place. The slimmer yearling watched, dancing in place and feeling generally useless. His wings fluttered at his sides and the almost familiar burning sensation took up residence in his chest, the forewarning feeling that told him his nostrils were going to start expelling anxious smoke soon if he didn't get his emotions under control. Sure enough, twin columns of hazey grey began to rise from flaring nares, accompanied by a prickling itch. The sudden sneeze flew out, chased by a shower of sparks. That was new and concerning and oh gods, did anybody see that? He didn't think so, they were getting further ahead and... what was he supposed to do? He almost missed her low voice in his own thoughts. 

    "Thank you both. I think I can make it the rest of the way myself." Her tone was as flat as the rest of her, hoarse with disuse. No one had spoken to her in the Elsewhere, and she'd given up trying to make herself heard months ago. Mostly she just did not want to be touched. She could make it if it meant she wasn't being touched. She'd been touched enough, poked and prodded and burned and drugged and... Her eyes glossed unusually bright, unaware of the tears dampening her hollow cheeks. She'd been aware of the bodies around her, it was impossible not to be. Now she really looked at them. Hale and whole they were. Ivar looked much the same, for all they'd only met briefly before her absence. As unpredictable as the waters he called home, the older male gave her a sense of security that had long been missing. 

    It was her sons who more clearly displayed just how much time had passed. Though not fully grown, they were well on their way. Kwartz had been near this age when she had last seen him, all legs, with the promise of more solid builds beginning to emerge. They were growing handsome, as she'd known they would. Castile was visible in them both, though more markedly in Raul's lines. Huskier than his brother, the blazing buckskin had the same shape of head, the same sturdy stance. Santana was following his dam more closely, it appeared. He was going to be built for the sky, it looked like. Still dwarfed by his leathery wings, his eyes hadn't left her since they'd begun moving, tendrils of smoke drifting before his  concerned face. Dear gods, had he inherited more of his father than she'd realized? Her gaze drifted back to the kelpie, a worn out sort of gratitude filling in the spaces in her expression. "I owe you much, Ivar. You've done well with them." 

    She needed to relearn these strangers. How could it be, that she was destined to be so unfamiliar with her offspring? Their names and faces were one thing to know, but she could not name their personalities, what they loved and loathed. Did they have friends? Did they have a surrogate mother that they loved, as well as father? 

    @[Ivar] Here, have a bucket of angst.
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    RE: Beneath this sky of powerlines // Ivar, any - by Sabra - 08-18-2018, 04:12 PM



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