cRess
Cress considers herself blessed that all three of her children had been born in good circumstances; other women are not so lucky, she knows.
Flamebrand was her first, borne from a fiery passion so strong it had threatened to burn the already smoldering Valley. Flamevein had covered her in fire and she had burned brighter than a million suns. He had taught her to be better, stronger; he had fed her own fire in return. Not long after Flamebrand came Rhaenyra, her beautiful, horned daughter. She was born when the world shifted, leaving everything changed and broken. The girl’s father had never returned after that, and Cress can only assume that he died when Beqanna decided it had had enough.
Dawn is her most recent child, and she feels Ledger’s absence like a knife drawn across her throat. The two of them had never loved each other—they were both broken and lonely, and they had bonded over their shared experiences in Carnage’s hell. They had thought that they could create something beautiful together, something whole and unbroken, and Dawn is the result of that. Her beautiful, powerful bear cub who will one day do great things for others. Dawn is so kind, so thoughtful. She will be good.
She had, of course, noticed Leliana’s recent pregnancy, though the mare had tried so hard to keep it to herself. She had been drawn and sad the last time Cress had seen her and while she knows it must be because of Vulgaris, she has not pressed the issue with the other winged woman. From all she has learned of the stallion since meeting her dear friend, she is certainly not his biggest fan, and the less she knows, the better (if she knew the truth, oh gods help us).
She does not find Leliana intentionally—she had headed in the direction of the common lands to find those that needed healing, to give them strength and direct them to the Resort. It is the gasps and moans that draw her towards the laboring mare, though she does it slowly as to not frighten her. Leliana. When the woman comes into view, Cress stops, watching her as she encourages the girl to stand. She can see the guilt that is written into Leliana’s movements and the expression she is trying to hide, and Cress frowns as she moves into view.
The filly’s milky eye is easy to spot, and Cress fixes her friend with a hard glare. If she had ears still, they would have been pinned ever so slightly. Instead, her gaze softens and she presses her nose to Leliana’s neck in a comforting manner. “She’s perfect, my friend,” she tells her. “She’ll never miss what she’s never had. You’ve done well.”
Looking fondly down at the filly—what she would give to have another, one day—she smiles, brown eyes warm. “If you want to talk about what happened, I’m always here. I would lend you an ear, but it seems they’ve run off on me again.”
@[leliana]
infected.