The last few months had been a new kind of torture for Agetta, and it was one of her own making. This was a situation she had never been in before, had never imagined that she would be in, and there she was - growing sides and no clue who the father of her child was. At least it was a small comfort to know that it was just between two.
And now she knew that however awful she had felt throughout the pregnancy, the next steps were going to be even worse. She was torn, every step of what had happened further cleaving her heart into two pieces. She did not regret what was budding with Garbage, the way her heart raced when he touched her - the secrets she knew about him and the one she shared in kind. Did not regret the actions that had led to this predicament - though they were mingled with shame.
But whatever had happened, this first step (she hoped) would not be awful - and it was the easiest of them all. Before she brought Mazikeen to Ryatah, the girl needed to meet her father.
It proves a little tricky to find him, but finally on the border of the lush spring forest she sees him. Still she has no name to call him, refusing to use what his mother had called him and uncertain whether ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ are appropriate nicknames, so she does not greet him with her voice - but by touch. She moves towards him without hesitation, her heart thundering in her chest and her mind softly screaming to stop digging herself into a deeper hole. But she believes it to be too late already, because his scent and his eyes spread a warmth through her she craves to feel again and again. So she attempts to brush her muzzle against his, then against his cheek, her voice a soft murmur against his skin. “How are you?” She asks first, because she truly wants to know.
And then, when she feels the gentle, but persistent, bump against her hind leg that tells her someone else has arrived. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She steps back, revealing the white filly with ink-black markings. The filly with eyes that blaze with a fierce and curious orange fire as she looks up at the black and white pair. “This is Mazikeen.” And Agetta’s eyes, as well as that of the filly’s, are focused on Garbage - and she does not realize until she speaks again how much she fears his reaction. She knows only a sliver of his story, but what she knows is that his experience with family is complicated (to say the least).
She speaks softly, as though that will help alleviate the weight of these two words from them both. “Our daughter.”
@[garbage]