12-13-2019, 12:20 PM
Summer mornings in the Taiga are both hot and humid. The fog, smelling strongly of the sea, clings heavily to the redwoods despite the bright sunlight that trickles through the coniferous canopy. Pteron's tobiano coat is already steaming from exertion, and the weather makes it no more comfortable. Having completed a circuit of the northern territory (one of many that he will do today), the pegasus stands beside a clear stream, having just drank his fill.
His muscles ache and quiver, but the stallion knows that in a few hours they will be as good as new. He never experiences soreness, not like most would, but he often pushes himself past comfort. Pteron has done that today, and most days since Reia's arrival in Taiga.
Each day she swells wider, and the weight of his responsibility settles more firmly across his pied shoulders. As though Taiga itself is not enough, the child that she carries will demand more of him than he thinks he is ready to provide. Still, he must be ready. He will learn as he goes, but surely everything he does will be better than what Reia will manage. She is not a kind creature - he cannot fathom that she will be a kind mother.
The wind is against him, but the sound of hooves on the soft floor draw his attention, and Pteron's olive eyes and blue-tipped ears swivel in the direction of the arriving horses. It is Reia, and his stomach clenches. Yet she looks different, and his brow creases as he struggles to place why. She's slimmer, the stallion realizes just before he sees the filly that clings to her heels.
There is a blue sheen to the girl's golden coat, and she wears the piebald markings and wings possessed by both of her parents. She is damp, and not especially well-cleaned from birth, and yet Pteron thinks that perhaps she might be the most wonderful thing that he has ever seen. He has no eyes for her mother (though some part of him recognizes that he should saysomething to her, even a breif hello), only for his newborn daughter.
"She is perfect." He says truthfully, stepping closer with his head lowered, eager to meet her. "What is her name?"
@[Reia]
ooc: no html bc im at work and 'technically' doing online trainings
His muscles ache and quiver, but the stallion knows that in a few hours they will be as good as new. He never experiences soreness, not like most would, but he often pushes himself past comfort. Pteron has done that today, and most days since Reia's arrival in Taiga.
Each day she swells wider, and the weight of his responsibility settles more firmly across his pied shoulders. As though Taiga itself is not enough, the child that she carries will demand more of him than he thinks he is ready to provide. Still, he must be ready. He will learn as he goes, but surely everything he does will be better than what Reia will manage. She is not a kind creature - he cannot fathom that she will be a kind mother.
The wind is against him, but the sound of hooves on the soft floor draw his attention, and Pteron's olive eyes and blue-tipped ears swivel in the direction of the arriving horses. It is Reia, and his stomach clenches. Yet she looks different, and his brow creases as he struggles to place why. She's slimmer, the stallion realizes just before he sees the filly that clings to her heels.
There is a blue sheen to the girl's golden coat, and she wears the piebald markings and wings possessed by both of her parents. She is damp, and not especially well-cleaned from birth, and yet Pteron thinks that perhaps she might be the most wonderful thing that he has ever seen. He has no eyes for her mother (though some part of him recognizes that he should say
"She is perfect." He says truthfully, stepping closer with his head lowered, eager to meet her. "What is her name?"
@[Reia]
ooc: no html bc im at work and 'technically' doing online trainings