"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
As a child you would wait, and watch from far away.
But you always knew you'd be the one to work while they all play.
God, she hates him.
Not really, of course, he's Covet, one of her closest friends throughout the year and also kind of something more. But has any pregnant woman, throughout the history of time, failed to curse the man who made her pregnant? And in this case, she knows from the way she's felt the kicks, from the strange too-heavy weight, that this is either the world's fattest foal with more than the usual count of legs, or she's having twins.
She leaves Shahrizai fairly suddenly, taking off on wings that are blessedly able to support her increased weight. She lands, and finds a remote part of the Valley, buried deep within a thicket of trees. Normally she might have sought out her tree, but she's not about to go over there and give birth underneath it with Shahrizai standing right there. If she's lucky it'll take him a bit of time to find his way over here. She doesn't doubt that he might show up, he's exactly the kind of nosy that might do that, but she wants to have the babies (yes, she's convinced now) out before he comes along. Before anyone comes along – including Covet. She just isn't into giving birth in any kind of public capacity.
Luckily for her, no sooner has she found the spot than her labor begins in earnest. She sinks gently, almost elegantly to her knees, and then over onto her side. Her wings are tucked away haphazardly, awkwardly out of the way so that they won't get damaged in a process she knows can get quite hectic. With a sigh, she resigns herself, and begins pushing.
A daughter slips free, and Librette glances behind her just long enough to see that something has gone horribly wrong – that the girl has landed on the ground in a way that simply shouldn't be possible. Her eyes cloud with worry (apparently, when giving birth, she is actually somewhat maternal) as she looks at the girl, and she makes to stand up and nudge her. But miraculously, the girl heals, standing up, just fine as though nothing at all had happened.
And when orange eyes blink back at her from an otherwise spitting image of herself, she is sure that this girl is her father's daughter, eyes and immortality and everything.
Satisfied that the girl is breathing, Librette turns her attention to the next one. This baby arrives without trouble, another girl, the spitting image of her sister (and of her mother), but without the orange eyes.
It is a relatively untroubled and painless labor (you know, minus the part where the first one almost died), and it's over before she knows it. Both babies are standing, and both seem to be completely healthy and normal. She is glad, mostly because she was more than tired of being pregnant, but also because she's just introduced two new lives into a Valley that very desperately needs more life in it.
It occurs to her, belatedly, that she should probably name them. She's named all her other children. But she hasn’t given any thought to it this time, she doesn't have anything prepared – and she simply isn't sure at all what she should say.
And so, at least for the time being, she is silent. Let the babies nurse for now. They can get named later.
Covet does not pretend to be all knowing, nor does he pretend to have any sort of magic in his bones. If he did, well, he'd have found a way to strip himself of his bones. Magic was a disgusting force, poisonous and toxic and venomous and...frankly, it made his skin crawl. He is, however, capable of simple math. Librette should foal any day now. Covet is not so astute to notice the extra weight, nor the way she carries herself. He doesn't understand birthing or foaling - just the initial steps. Child rearing? Nope.
He sees Librette fly overhead and he knows. It's mathematically time. Why else would she retreat so deep into the woods?
So he takes his time - picking through the trees and the brush, traversing the walls and marrow of the valley. When he's finally arrived so many hours later he's missed the worst (best?) part.
--------------
Of course a child of Covet would be so stoic, so orange-eyed, so unnatural. From the moment her dainty, childish hooves hit the ground it was obvious. She was chestnut like her mother, a spitting image of the Valley-loving woman. You passed over her markings - striking images of her mother - with the hint of the sinewy muscles of foalhood. She could have been her mother, truly, if it weren't for those eyes. Unnatural orange, and unnaturally vacant.
There were, of course, other aspects of her father. When she lands on the ground, when she's truly in this world, she lands unnaturally. Death should have come right then, it should have brought her to the afterlife before she took her first breath, but it didn't. She healed instantly, readily, and blinked against the realization. A normal child would have seen it as a way of life, Thorunn knew it was unnatural. She knew, suddenly and deeply, that she was not like the others.
And if Eight appeared to read her mind? He'd hear nothing.
She turns to her mother then, watching the other come. She is a mirror, and if Thorunn knew her eye color she'd see that very little separated them. She nudges her sister - hello friend. We are out, we are free, we are here! And she nurses, and she's content.
-------------------
Covet steps from the shadows, examining. Two fillies. Fillies. Had he hoped for a colt? For a strong likeness of him? Both of these girls were Librette's deep chestnut. One turns to look at him, her orange eyes critical and unnerving. The other? She is not so vacant, and Covet is at once taken. He sees Aranea, he sees himself, and he sees Librette. That is what he wanted, isn't it?
A strange sensation creeps through his blood. It's as if he's hot and cold at once, but it passes and he's himself again. Changed, perhaps, just a little - he attributes it to the orange eyed daughter.
"Have you named them?" he asks. No: how are you? No: can I help with anything? No, not Covet. Not them.
-----------------
The orange eyed filly looks to the black stallion, and she's uninterested. He is old, he is scarred - but these mean very little to her. She doesn't know what the roadmap on his body says. She does like his orange eyes, they're strange.
Her first impression is that the world is...well...big. She slips out easily, a contrast to the almost-disaster of her sister's birth, and everything is large. For the longest time it's been just them, just warmth and closeness, snuggled up together. But now she's here and it's big, but that's okay because she is still here, nudging her, helping her get up.
And she does, a goofy, sweet, grin on her face.
And so it is established that they are mirrors, so very close in appearance, but so very different in personality. Where Sister has eyes like hot pumpkin (you're welcome), she has eyes of a sweet brown. Where Sister looks with disinterest and judgment, to her, the whole world is her playground, and she can't wait to go roll around in all the mud.
But for now, it's time to nurse, and so she does.
-------
She is grateful that Covet happens upon them after she's given birth. She really just is not comfortable with the process herself, and she'd probably have tried to kill him if he'd tried to play spectator. But she's fine with him being here now - just so long as he doesn't expect them to play happy family. Librette is not very good at that game.
But he isn't, he doesn't, and his almost clinical detachment suits her just fine. They'd had a deal, after all. He'd made her a proposal and she accepted. "Yes." she answers his question, figuring that that's a thing she probably should've done, because he's asking about it. Maybe he'll imagine that she whispered their names tenderly in their ears right after birthing. Or whatever it is good mothers do. "Thorrun and Valkerine." She's surprised at how easily the names come to her lips. Maybe she's had the names in her mind all along? Realizing that she hasn't defined which one is which, she indicates her head toward the filly with the brown eyes. "Valkerine." She indicates the filly with the orange eyes. "Thorrun." she pauses for a moment. "She's got your eyes. And I think your other traits too. The way she landed when she came out...wasn't right. But she's fine now." She adds the last part hurriedly, although it's perfectly obvious that the girl is up and nursing.
-------
The world is not just her and Sister and Mommy anymore. There's a black stallion now, but Mommy seems okay with it, so she supposes she is too. Sister seems unconcerned with this whole thing, but to her, she's quite interested. What else will this world throw at them? She wants to see all of it.
She is about to step away from Mommy, to step toward the stranger, but then Mommy says something and deep in her heart she knows it's something important. She doesn't entirely understand what a Name means yet, but the stallion seems to think it's important, and so does Mommy, so she's going to listen. Apparently, they each have a Name, and Sister's is Thorrun and hers is Valkerine. Valkerine, she thinks, and she smiles. She likes it.
She bumps her sister with her nose. "Thorn!" she says with great enthusiasm, trying (and absolutely failing) to pronounce the name that Sister has just been given. She giggles, coughs adorably in the process of clearing her throat, and then tries again. "Thor run." it's two words where it should be one, but she's getting the idea. She grins.
Learning of names completed, she decides it's time to investigate the stallion, making it obvious that she has little common sense and no fear. With a quick touch oh her nose to Sister (Thorrun, she reminds herself, although she knows it probably won't ever replace Sister), she moves away from Mommy. Walking on wobbly filly legs, she moves over so that she's standing almost directly in front of him, comically tiny and small in comparison to him.
She looks him over, as seriously as a tiny filly can, and decides to use that word that he and Mommy seemed to think was so important. "Name?!" it's both a demand and a curious question, both question mark and exclamation point, all rolled into one. But she doesn't keep up the seriousness for very long, and her face splits into a sweet filly grin, brown eyes crinkling up in amusement in a way her mother's never have.
05-03-2015, 12:12 PM (This post was last modified: 05-03-2015, 12:13 PM by Alptraum.)
All that I need is for you to be bleeding, From my homicidal kiss
Librette had hurried off without a word, but her very swollen barrel had given the nightmare the information she needed to know about the hurried departure. At a distance, she followed, set into her mind to watch over her new friend from a distance and provide safety to her and the young she was about to bring into the world. Feathered hooves made no noise in the lush spring grasses, mangled ears alert as she stopped a couple hundred yards away from the other mare. Dark eyes scanned the horizon, making sure all was safe here as Librette pushed out the foal within her womb.
A filly emerged, and Alptraum's lips tugged into a smile, and then she would have arched a brow if she had one because the little one had orange eyes. It was breathtaking in that chestnut face, an almost mirror image of her mother, except for the extraordinary eyes. The nightmare almost revealed herself as the foal landed strangely, but stopped short as the filly merely blinked and got up. That was...curious..indeed. Perhaps they had horses here who lived indefinitely, no matter what happened to them. Turning her attention back to Librette, she watched in wonder as a second foal emerged. That was something she had never seen before, she had heard of dual births but had never actually known anyone who had carried twins. This filly was a duplicate of her mother down to the chocolate of her eyes, and that only widened Alptraum's smile.
She was about to step out and introduce herself to the little ones when a large black stallion emerged from the other side of the clearing they were in. Ears flattened themselves against her skull as she watched him, then flicked forward as she saw the glowing orange of his eyes. Well unless there was more than one orange eyed horse this must be the fillies father. Emerging from the shadows at last as Librette names the two little ones to the stallion, she approaches cautiously, stopping at a respectable distance from the new mother and her young, yet still close enough to protect them from anything that might try to harm them. Dipping her head, she introduces herself to the man after speaking to Librette.
They are beautiful Librette, and the names are as well., turning to the man she says, I am Alptraum.
Lowering her head down to the levels of the two fillies, she chuckles as she watches Valkerine become a little shining spark of curiosity. That one would be much fun later on, she could already tell. Thorrun on the other hand, something was..off...about the filly. Perhaps it was the total emptiness of her eyes, or perhaps it was just her general disinterest with everything around her. But both would be protected by the nightmare, fiercely protected. A looming shadow of protection that would annihilate anything that tried to harm them, no matter what that thing might be. Tangled tail swishes against scarred haunches as she awaits replies from Librette and the man, though her attention is focused on Valkerine.
Alptraum Mare 10 years Black (Ee/aa) Percheron x Friesian 18 hands No Consort, The Valley, No Hellspawn Sael
You see, I'm not like those other girls, baby I'm your bloody creature poster girl
He’s pretty sure that she is testing him. Well, kind of sure. Of course, she had looked very pregnant. Regardless of whether this is a test or not though, he will pass. He watches her fly away, dark ears forward in earnest attention. He starts forward, following her direct path above the earth via a much less direct path through the Valley’s landscape. He picks his away around rocks and trees, attempting as best he can to follow where she had gone. In the end, it’s really not that difficult, especially for one who had grown up in the Jungle. Of course, it’s pretty difficult to have terrain more twisted and confusing than the sticky, humid, overgrown land that he been born in. So it does not take him long (by his standards) to find where she had gone.
He hears them first, alert ears picking up the sound of shuffling followed by voices. The scent of birth hits him quickly afterwards. So it probably hadn’t been a test after all. Finally she comes into view, that plain chestnut mare that he had made such an unlikely friendship with. He sees immediately that, apparently, he is late to the party. When he sees the two little fillies nuzzling at their mother, a happy smile splits his features as the others are quickly forgotten. Heedless of the danger (he knows that a mother’s instincts are not something to be trifled with), he moves easily through the small group to approach the two young fillies, large head lowered. A mixture of awe and curiosity suffuses his features as his dark muzzle brushes against the back of the tiny brown-eyed filly. He marvels at how small and delicate both girls are (especially when compared to his decidedly large frame), and a sudden surge of protectiveness rises within him.
He pauses to briefly snuffle the orange-eyed filly before lifting his dark head, a silly grin upon his lips. His chocolate colored eyes find Librette’s own as he reaches forward to give her an affectionate nudge as well.
His orange eyes are still focused on the other orange-eyed creature - Thorunn. He likes the sound of it, it sounds of strength. The way she stares at him, those eyes so curious yet so bland, turns his heart a bit. He will teach her everything he knows...and Val too. They are two heads of the same coin, and perhaps together they will create the heir he'd always dreamed of. No more sad mistakes wandering the world in their lost hopelessness. These were his true masterpiece.
He wonders, briefly, if Librette feels the same way.
He watches as Val bumps noses with her sister, who hesitantly returns the gesture. "Val." Her reply is short and sweet, and she seems very assured in her answer. Yes, just Val, much like she will always be Sissy. Thorunn watches her twin wander to Covet with the same passive look she's given everyone else. She is not so curious, content instead to watch her sister make friends.
"I am Covet, your father," he says, and for once his voice isn't that sickening bland gravel of a noise it usually is. It is quiet and almost kind, though so misplaced from the chapped lips of the scarred ex-king. He says it for her and also for the other newcomers, who've come to pay their respects.
It seems entirely logical to Valkerine that she should attract a crowd. She feels like she is a spectacle, but in the best of ways. Like a masterpiece, a work of art. The big one comes first - SO big! - and Val can't help but look up at her in awe. If she weren't already so invested in getting over to her father, no doubt she'd stop off for a visit. But her mother seems to think he's important, and so she does too.
She looks around at the one horse as he touches her, his muzzle delicate on her skin. She is not afraid, not of him (not of anything), but instead curious. She makes a mental note to come back to him, because he's interesting.
But when Covet speaks to her, she can't help it - she giggles again. "Father!" she says with excitement, starting to grasp the idea of language.
And with the exuberance of a child she throws herself at him, pressing her tiny chest in the direction of his chest, but really ending up just about even with the tops of his legs, wrapping her face toward him in an adorable horse hug.
But she is a showman, and she is not about to ignore the rest of her adoring public. The closest horse to her happens to be Shahrizai, although she doesn't know his name. And so, with all the unceremonious circumstance of the tiny filly she is, she breaks away from her embrace of Covet with adorable bombast, and wanders over on spindly legs to bump Shahrizai on the butt with her nose. She continues walking forward, almost falling into him just a little bit, giggling as she does so. When she's finally in front of him, she swings around to face him directly.
"Hi!" she says, too exuberant, her eyes a sweet shade of chocolate that her mother had never quite managed. "I'm Valkerine." she says, her voice sweet and sassy all at once. "Name?!" she says, an impish grin on her face, using the same tone that she'd had with Covet.
As a child you would wait, and watch from far away.
But you always knew you'd be the one to work while they all play.
If it were anyone else, anyone but these three, perhaps she'd be feeling more protective. But with Covet, well, they're his as much as they're hers, so she's got no reason to suspect. Alp is as protective as she is. And Shah couldn't hurt them even if he tried. So she's really relatively relaxed about this whole thing. She's glad it's over with, she's glad she didn't hurt any of them (although she almost had hurt Thorrun, she recollects for a moment), and no one is deformed. Covet seems happy.
She gives Alp a smile, knowing that politeness demands it. "Thanks Alp. I…grew them myself?" she speaks, knowing even before she's finished how awkward it is, and having nothing that she can do about it.
Shah comes next, approaching the children and touching them. In a normal mother this might be a no-no, but this is Librette. So long as he's not physically stomping on them or something she really doesn't care. He speaks then, and she glares at him. "It's his fault. It's never happened to me before." she tosses her head in Covet's direction.
And then she is silent, observing the circus that her birthing is becoming. She doesn't mind the children, really – they're cute as such things go. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to learn to love these.
A silly grin is still gracing his lips as he lifts his gaze to the stallion who had just introduced himself as their father. He studies him curiously, wondering about this man that Librette had chosen to be the father of her children. That she’d even had more children, given her general intolerance for them, surprises him. He recalls well her reaction to him as a gangly yearling. He hadn’t even been especially small at that point, though now he can fully recognize his prior immaturity. Amazing the perspective one gains with age. He can only wonder what kinds of perspective will be brought with even greater age. He could ask, but he knows it isn’t something he is likely to understand until he actually lives it. There are some things, he is coming to realize, that no amount of questioning can find an answer for.
When the dark stallion says no more beyond his name, Shahrizai turns his attention back to the two girls as they bump noses. When Valkerine nearly stumbles into him, he automatically reaches out to steady her, shifting his weight to best provide a balance. He grins when she catches herself before turning to face him. His dark eyes remain focused on her, closely watching the little filly that looks so much like her mother. Her personality, however, is shaping up to be absolutely nothing like her mother’s, and Sharizai cannot help the laugh that bubbles from his lips at her precocious question.
I’m Shahrizai. Friends call me Shah though.
He winks at her, returning her grin with one of his own before lifting his head and looking at Librette with raised eyebrows (if he had eyebrows, that is). As he speaks, his tone is rife with teasing humor.
You know, if she wasn’t the spitting image of you, I’d wonder if you had accidentally picked her up along the way.
She almost frowns when he steadies her – she doesn't want help, but at the same time, it's really handy and helps her right herself again as quickly as possible. She'll give him a pass, she decides. This time.
He answers her question, and this time she does frown, because that's…well, it's a really hard name. Covet, Sister, these were easy. "Shar." she tries. "Shah-ha-reezy." she tries again, her face comically serious, focused and concentrating. "Shareezy." She pauses, pursing her lips. "Shah." she exhales. "Hmph." she looks him up and down, as though considering. "Zai." she finally says, with certainty in your voice. "I'm going to call you Zai."
He speaks to her mother then, and Valkerine is not ready to stop being the center of attention, so she headbutts him gently in the shoulder. "She didn't pick us up along the way. She grew us, she told you." her voice is authoritative, bossy even, but it's the voice of a young filly and so it can't be anything but adorable. She backs away from him again, silent for a moment as though considering him. "She probably picked you up along the way." she says, but the way she says it isn't mean or cruel. She's just teasing, just being an outspoken, opinionated, teasing little child. And she seems very pleased that she's thought of such a clever way to turn his words around on him.
She giggles.
And then, for no reason at all, she leans forward again so she's within easy reach of his shoulder and licks him, gently. Her tongue is soft, baby-soft, and so tiny. It's just a small lick, as though he's an ice cream flavor and she's taking a taste-test.
Pulling back, she flicks her tongue in and out of her mouth as though trying to clean it off, clearly displeased with the taste. She frowns at him. "You taste funny." She looks at him for just a moment, her nose wrinkled in adorable disgust, her expression full of sass, before turning and marching back to her mother and drowning his weird taste in the warmth of milk.
