the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl
It's rather unsettling; however much she wanted a family and now can't seem to be able to divide her time between her son and her... whatsitcalled. She wouldn't dare say lover, for they have made no such moves towards one another, although perhaps bordering on it. But friend seemed so general. Perhaps that's why Solace had given him the title of Heart - specially made, because other things don't fit. Normal descriptions just don't seem to work on Svedka, she muses.
He'd probably really like that idea, so she opts not to tell him this last thought. Instead she smiles, forgetting a moment her dun-striped son. The milk and honey coloured stallion is quick to join her in the water, having done so thousands of times already, and circling her to the deeper side of the lake, from her point of view. He doesn't swim away however; on top of the shimmering water, his head is closing in on hers, and she chuckles when she sees a long-lost flower untie itself from his mane, dried as it is by now. It floats over the soft lake water waves, and her eyes trace the speck of colour just up until Svedka's breath is on her skin to remove a piece of weed that apparently had seemed fit to attach itself to her. His question though, is much more serious in tone, genuinely wanting to know how she is. Has been. Feels.
She has no ready answer, for she is a mix of emotions that slowly are neighing to the better half; with fall coming up, it will have been about a year ago now, soon. She still dreams weirdly - sometimes Arithmetic still shows up in her dreams, either to pull her away from her happier life in Hyaline, or instead to claim Llowell for himself, saying that he doesn't need his mother any more. The worst are the dreams she has of Svedka himself, though. Not that she doesn't like having him in her dreams, they always start very lovely, but it still comes with the sense of impeding danger, and sometimes he shifts into Arty, or Ashhal shows up, and it's always a mess in the end.
But by daytime, none of those things ever happen. By daylight, her son grows into a strong young colt, ready to take on the world but always with half an eye on his mother to make sure she is safe. He sleeps close to her, and he knows that she has nightmares about every other night. Still, it's better than every night, Ilma reasons - and she readily tells Llowell to not linger near her just for her; she has others to fall back on. Even if they don't join her when she's dreaming.
Speaking of which - a yelp interrupts her, and she realizes she'd already opened her mouth to start on a complex answer. Her son, being younger than the both of them, is not yet tall as they and has lost his footing earlier. Ilma swims up to him, inspecting him while he tries to swim. "Steady. Tuck in your wings. All the way. One foot at the time." Now, it is Llowell who takes near hundred percent of her attention; funny how she can't seem to focus on the two of them at the same time.
@[Svedka]