She is pregnant (obscenely so), she is tired, and she is stubborn like her mother. Whatever darkness had been passed down to the wild indigo mare, whatever poison flowed through her veins, now also found refuge in Victra. Before the world broke, before Raz broke her, she had only known quiet in her heart. There had never been a reason to feel anything other than safe in the illusion her parents had provided for her.
But safe was a lie.
Safe existed only in the sky with the sun against her back and those beautiful wings unfurled at her withers.
But even that had been stolen from her now. To try and lift her body off the ground for any length of time was near agony. Her barrel felt like it had doubled and then doubled again, and when she ignored the warning of discomfort and took to the skies anyway, it felt like the dark wings at her withers were being plucked from their joints. Her dark bay body was simply too swollen for those soft, feathered wings to hold her easily aloft.
So she stays instead in the meadow, refusing to go anywhere near that mountain again, refusing even the forest for its proximately. She resented the fairy who had taken the magic from her wings, resented the lack of magic she felt flexing inside of them. Hers had been shape-shifter wings, they had responded to her mood and whim, and now they felt dead and black where she left them open at her sides. They would still hold her against the sky, someday soon once the triplets have been born, but without the magic they do not feel like part of her.
She trails quietly through the meadow, stuck in motion because today it feels less uncomfortable than holding still. Her wings are still unfurled at her sides, and the tips of the feather trace jagged lines against the frost as they drag just above the ground. It’s her own fault for not noticing, but she nearly collides with a large black stallion standing immediately in her path. Instead of apologizing though, she scowls and pins her ears at him defensively. Nothing about him made her feel as though she were in any danger, but memories of being tortured, of a home now ruined, mix with that instinctive urge to protect the life growing in her belly and make her unpredictable.
D: i promise if he is even just a little kind, she'll be nice. she is just hormonal and grumpy and recently tortured. <33