Lilliana had eventually drifted further south - away from the craggy coast of Nerine - and sought out the familiar protection of the Taiga.
In the end, though, even the Redwoods couldn’t hold her. The spot she had found (that she had chosen for the impending birth) - a quiet, primordial grove - hadn’t felt right when she woke that morning. The chestnut had felt the start of her contractions and had tried to give no sign that something was unusual when the day came. She had teased Ruthless who had seemed uncertain at leaving her alone when Lilliana had smiled at her. "Go find Kalil,” she had laughed, truly grateful for the normalcy that was dawning back into their lives. Happy that there seemed to be something growing between Aten’s son and the golden girl - her (not so little) lioness, Lilliana had affectionately called her. "I'll be fine.”
There wasn’t far she could go without the young mare coming to check on her.
And then there had been Brazen. The roan mare had even ventured into Taiga a few times. 'For the trees,’ her bone-armored confidant had said while casting a dubious eye to the swell of her sides. 'I kept hearing that the trees were really big.’ Lilliana had to bite her tongue at that - the trees or me, she had wanted to ask with her usual grin and banter.
In the end, none of it had mattered. She had woken that morning and sent Ruthless on her way, smiling behind tired eyes and an aching body. Lilliana had known that the dull ache that sent a shiver up her weighted spine meant that they were coming. That life, that hers and theirs and those all caught up in an unseen web, would be irrevocably changed. She had paced (waddled) through the trails of the Taiga until a sound reached her copper-tipped ears. A familiar melody, an echo of her past and there it was - a love and a longing calling to her. The River invites and soothes, beckons and serves as a beacon when her body is so utterly restless.
For the first time in years, she hears it.
Come, it echoes.
Her sides contract again and the copper mare winces in pain but she obeys. She follows the current away from the Taiga. It ripples quietly in some places and turns into rapids in others. She can’t quite find the right place but the chestnut mare could laugh through the pain-induced tears that are filling behind her eyes. She can hear the River again and for that, for that…
For that, she will follow.
Finally, the River flows in just a way that seems to agree with the warm, southerly breeze. They intertwine together in an understanding that makes itself known to the Taigan mare. It's a quiet spot - where the shimmer of the spring sun breaks through the vibrant green of the new leaves above her. The grasses are sweet and some are long, offering her privacy from prying eyes. Here, both Elements murmur in agreement.
There is so much she cannot give them. But this sound - this familiarity - is one that she can share with them.
The birth is not an easy one. Like so many things she was never intended for, bringing new life into the world seems to be one of them. Her body takes on an almost ochre coloring by the time her first son slips into the world and sweat has lathered on her neck when the second one comes. Everything hurts and aches and yet when she lifts her tired head to look at them both - one with stripes and wings and another who is already glowing from a flaxen-tufted mane - she knows she would endure it lifetimes over for them.
That love she has always been so terrified of consumes her but this time there is no fear of falling, of losing herself in it. It sparks a fire in her soul and she lets it burn away any doubts, any fears that she had before this moment. She tumbles headlong into a love that would rival the height of Nerine’s cliffs and the majesty of Taiga’s trees. Lilliana murmurs their names into their damp necks as she cleans them and helps them stand, smiling and beaming with pride. They are perfection, she thinks. There are masterstrokes of their creators and yet they are so uniquely themselves.
She could harbor this moment forever. The Taigan mare wishes she could shore it for always, to always have for safekeeping. There is nothing graceful in their first steps. They wobble and are uncertain on long, teetering legs. Their mother laughs softly and bears with them (grimacing through the lovestruck smile) both when it comes to time to fill their bellies. She learns to adore the way their broomtails twirl and the way their teacup mouths yawn when they are full.
The copper mare leads them away from their quiet place to another not far away, close enough that the trill of the current still sings to them. Lilli finds a spot closer to Taiga - where they will go in the next day or two once the twins are more steady with their strides - and beds them beneath the trees and nestles them in the long meadow grass for the night. Only when have they folded themselves and their breaths come in soft, dreamy exhales does she venture down the bank and drink.
She is exhausted but the water is crisp and refreshing. Dusk comes in shades of violet and blue as the world becomes quiet. The birdsong ceases and it is only the cry of a lonely owl that prompts her to lift her head. Against the neutral tones of twilight comes a faint glow through the tall grasses - her boys Nashua and Yanhua - lighting up the encroaching night.
In the end, though, even the Redwoods couldn’t hold her. The spot she had found (that she had chosen for the impending birth) - a quiet, primordial grove - hadn’t felt right when she woke that morning. The chestnut had felt the start of her contractions and had tried to give no sign that something was unusual when the day came. She had teased Ruthless who had seemed uncertain at leaving her alone when Lilliana had smiled at her. "Go find Kalil,” she had laughed, truly grateful for the normalcy that was dawning back into their lives. Happy that there seemed to be something growing between Aten’s son and the golden girl - her (not so little) lioness, Lilliana had affectionately called her. "I'll be fine.”
There wasn’t far she could go without the young mare coming to check on her.
And then there had been Brazen. The roan mare had even ventured into Taiga a few times. 'For the trees,’ her bone-armored confidant had said while casting a dubious eye to the swell of her sides. 'I kept hearing that the trees were really big.’ Lilliana had to bite her tongue at that - the trees or me, she had wanted to ask with her usual grin and banter.
In the end, none of it had mattered. She had woken that morning and sent Ruthless on her way, smiling behind tired eyes and an aching body. Lilliana had known that the dull ache that sent a shiver up her weighted spine meant that they were coming. That life, that hers and theirs and those all caught up in an unseen web, would be irrevocably changed. She had paced (waddled) through the trails of the Taiga until a sound reached her copper-tipped ears. A familiar melody, an echo of her past and there it was - a love and a longing calling to her. The River invites and soothes, beckons and serves as a beacon when her body is so utterly restless.
For the first time in years, she hears it.
Come, it echoes.
Her sides contract again and the copper mare winces in pain but she obeys. She follows the current away from the Taiga. It ripples quietly in some places and turns into rapids in others. She can’t quite find the right place but the chestnut mare could laugh through the pain-induced tears that are filling behind her eyes. She can hear the River again and for that, for that…
For that, she will follow.
Finally, the River flows in just a way that seems to agree with the warm, southerly breeze. They intertwine together in an understanding that makes itself known to the Taigan mare. It's a quiet spot - where the shimmer of the spring sun breaks through the vibrant green of the new leaves above her. The grasses are sweet and some are long, offering her privacy from prying eyes. Here, both Elements murmur in agreement.
There is so much she cannot give them. But this sound - this familiarity - is one that she can share with them.
The birth is not an easy one. Like so many things she was never intended for, bringing new life into the world seems to be one of them. Her body takes on an almost ochre coloring by the time her first son slips into the world and sweat has lathered on her neck when the second one comes. Everything hurts and aches and yet when she lifts her tired head to look at them both - one with stripes and wings and another who is already glowing from a flaxen-tufted mane - she knows she would endure it lifetimes over for them.
That love she has always been so terrified of consumes her but this time there is no fear of falling, of losing herself in it. It sparks a fire in her soul and she lets it burn away any doubts, any fears that she had before this moment. She tumbles headlong into a love that would rival the height of Nerine’s cliffs and the majesty of Taiga’s trees. Lilliana murmurs their names into their damp necks as she cleans them and helps them stand, smiling and beaming with pride. They are perfection, she thinks. There are masterstrokes of their creators and yet they are so uniquely themselves.
She could harbor this moment forever. The Taigan mare wishes she could shore it for always, to always have for safekeeping. There is nothing graceful in their first steps. They wobble and are uncertain on long, teetering legs. Their mother laughs softly and bears with them (grimacing through the lovestruck smile) both when it comes to time to fill their bellies. She learns to adore the way their broomtails twirl and the way their teacup mouths yawn when they are full.
The copper mare leads them away from their quiet place to another not far away, close enough that the trill of the current still sings to them. Lilli finds a spot closer to Taiga - where they will go in the next day or two once the twins are more steady with their strides - and beds them beneath the trees and nestles them in the long meadow grass for the night. Only when have they folded themselves and their breaths come in soft, dreamy exhales does she venture down the bank and drink.
She is exhausted but the water is crisp and refreshing. Dusk comes in shades of violet and blue as the world becomes quiet. The birdsong ceases and it is only the cry of a lonely owl that prompts her to lift her head. Against the neutral tones of twilight comes a faint glow through the tall grasses - her boys Nashua and Yanhua - lighting up the encroaching night.
LILLIANA
all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
(as long as i'm laughing with you)
@[Calcifer] @[Brazen] @[Ruthless]
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind