stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
He sleeps fitfully, haunted by the effects of the eclipse. It’s been hard for him to explain the Underworld to Islas; every time he begins to work up the courage to tell her, flashbacks and a choked throat convince him to stay silent. The memories are too painful, and Tiercel has begun to think that they are better left unspoken, where only he can feel them. He’s seen the flashes of guilt in her dark eyes (guilt that is entirely hers, not coming from him or their gifted daughter), and he knows the retelling of his experience will only make her feel it more.
So Tiercel spends each day keeping Islas close, praying over Kamaria’s wanderlust mind, and dreading the moment the sky begins to darken. The sunlight gives him opportunities to forget, to lose himself in his role as a father so the memories of the Underworld become hazy. He can focus on the tasks of protecting his wife and their growing children and monitoring Kamaria from a distance. He even feels comfortable wandering off alone for a few hours at a time, walking through the familiar winding canyons and thinking harder about what family has come to mean to him. But when night draws close and the sun begins to sleep, the ghosts of the Underworld start to chase his mind.
The pair have both become fidgeters, but for different reasons. Islas shifts her position alongside him when the twins begin to bicker from within, when their weight becomes a little too much to bear, when he thinks her mind might be racing with thoughts of worry. Tiercel feels himself shiver and sweat when the rolling eyes of the pegasus flash, when he can feel his heart get pulled from his chest with a sucking sound, when the thousand-eyed guardian levitates over his slowly-dying body and asks if he wants pain (the answer is always no, and he always gets the pain).
It’s another restless night when he feels Islas pull away from him. Tiercel doesn’t recognize her disappearance until a bloodcurdling scream jolts him into consciousness. His eyes catch Kamaria’s growing body in the corner, the stones on her face glittering from the soft light cast by her stars. The dun confirms she’s sound asleep when his daughter snores, and he moves toward the mouth of the cave quietly.
Islas’s touch is warm where the winter night is bitter, and Tiercel relaxes into it. “You didn’t,” he admits quietly. The bend of her head into his chest gives him a clear view of her body, and his cerulean eyes trace her familiar curves. He feels a rush of affection at the way her belly swells with the twins, and he wraps this emotion around the pair of them. His navy mouth follows the slope of her neck, and he places a handful of kisses against her withers. “I can’t shake my nightmares.” He’s certain she’s felt him twisting at night, and he’s even woken himself up with a true yell of his own. “I can’t let our family down again, not like I did with Kamaria.”
So Tiercel spends each day keeping Islas close, praying over Kamaria’s wanderlust mind, and dreading the moment the sky begins to darken. The sunlight gives him opportunities to forget, to lose himself in his role as a father so the memories of the Underworld become hazy. He can focus on the tasks of protecting his wife and their growing children and monitoring Kamaria from a distance. He even feels comfortable wandering off alone for a few hours at a time, walking through the familiar winding canyons and thinking harder about what family has come to mean to him. But when night draws close and the sun begins to sleep, the ghosts of the Underworld start to chase his mind.
The pair have both become fidgeters, but for different reasons. Islas shifts her position alongside him when the twins begin to bicker from within, when their weight becomes a little too much to bear, when he thinks her mind might be racing with thoughts of worry. Tiercel feels himself shiver and sweat when the rolling eyes of the pegasus flash, when he can feel his heart get pulled from his chest with a sucking sound, when the thousand-eyed guardian levitates over his slowly-dying body and asks if he wants pain (the answer is always no, and he always gets the pain).
It’s another restless night when he feels Islas pull away from him. Tiercel doesn’t recognize her disappearance until a bloodcurdling scream jolts him into consciousness. His eyes catch Kamaria’s growing body in the corner, the stones on her face glittering from the soft light cast by her stars. The dun confirms she’s sound asleep when his daughter snores, and he moves toward the mouth of the cave quietly.
Islas’s touch is warm where the winter night is bitter, and Tiercel relaxes into it. “You didn’t,” he admits quietly. The bend of her head into his chest gives him a clear view of her body, and his cerulean eyes trace her familiar curves. He feels a rush of affection at the way her belly swells with the twins, and he wraps this emotion around the pair of them. His navy mouth follows the slope of her neck, and he places a handful of kisses against her withers. “I can’t shake my nightmares.” He’s certain she’s felt him twisting at night, and he’s even woken himself up with a true yell of his own. “I can’t let our family down again, not like I did with Kamaria.”
tiercel.
@[Islas]