caught in the current

[Oceane]

the fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, the furrow followed free;
we were the first that ever burst into that silent sea.

Oceane's first two pregnancies had been long, drawn-out ordeals. The seasons had passed slowly, the widening of her abdomen refusing to show until the very last months of her gestation. She thinks back on them now, bitterly. Undoubtedly, her mental state at the time had affected the way her body reacted to her pregnancy, and to the way she had perceived the passing of time. There had been a perpetual dread that existed in each waking moment and bled into the backdrop of her dreams, sometimes creating night terrors and sometimes simply leaving her with a hollow feeling in her stomach where she should have felt fullness.

Unlike the previous two times she had grown life within her, this pregnancy has seemed to fly by with each involuntary blink of her golden eyes. The worst of winter has broken and made room for the muddiness that will soon accompany spring; it is not quite warm, but the winds no longer bite and her opalescent coat no longer growing thick like a woolen cloak. The swell of her belly is apparent — blatant, even, beneath the shedding of her winter dress, and now that Oceane has found an optimal spot to nest for when the time comes, she finds that she is rarely up for the task of leaving it too far behind.

"Ori!" she calls, surprise sneaking into her voice as her hooves lumber her winged frame beyond a rocky outcropping and the familiar antlered mare appears on the other side. "I haven't seen you in quite a while," Oceane adds by way of greeting, more an observation than an accusation. Admittedly, she hasn't been up for the task of conversing over the last few weeks. Especially not when her dreams of Nau-Aib have caused fitful sleep and night sweats for nearly an entire season.

"Are there interesting things happening beyond the reach of Loess?" Genuine interest twists into her words. It causes her ears to prick forward hopefully, as there is nothing more torturous to a woman who prides herself on her ability to find adventure than the instinctual, primal knowledge that the most intelligent option for her is to remain within the safety of Loess, and within Castile's reach, until she has safely given birth to the life entrusted to her.

i must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
@[Oriash] | "speaks"