"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
11-09-2018, 01:22 PM (This post was last modified: 11-09-2018, 01:22 PM by Fox.)
My heart saw the things my eyes couldn't see
The entire world had upended itself, but right now that hardly seemed to matter. Tephra is safe, and so is she. That’s all that really matters right now anyway. After all, she is carrying his child. His.
Honestly, he’s ridiculously pleased with himself. As if he hadn’t already been. She loves it, even if she won’t say so. He still has so much to show her about her body (about what they could do together), but he supposes some of that will have to wait for now. Besides, there’s something almost absurdly satisfying about watching her belly grown round with his child.
The air is warm and heavy as he trots along the sandy beach, step as buoyant as the brightness gleaming from his amber eye. He has enjoyed the lapping waves, splashing about in them as a child might. He has always enjoyed the lighter things in life, had even done his very best to coax Lynx into joining him. After all, what could be more fun than a slightly naughty romp in the waves?
He couldn’t think of anything.
But that is far from his mind today as he makes his way along the shoreline, seeking her familiar black and white. He doesn’t have anything particular in mind, mostly he just wants to see her. Like he didn’t see her every day. Semantics, really.
The lopsided grin dances across his features when finally he spies her. He slips alongside her as easily as breathing, a brief shudder of cold air sapping the humidity from the sticky Tephran clime in a little bubble around them. He places a line of warm kisses along the swell of her stomach before tracing that line along her neck and ending with a tender kiss on the curve of her jaw. “Hello beautiful,” he greets throatily, an amused twinkle gleaming in his bright gaze.
She isn’t sure how she is supposed to manage raising a child when she’s already saddled one. Even though she has come to appreciate his steadfast cheery deposition on the day-to-day, the way he was always grinning and teasing with that mischievous glint in his eye. But she knew what that meant now. It meant something permanent—her body changing and morphing to carry the small seed of life within it now. She frowns down at it, shifting uncomfortably as the child within her kicks out.
Grunting in pain, she scowls, turning her head to whisper at it. “Would you calm down?” Her nostrils flare as she exhales in irritation. “I want you out as bad as you want to be out. Just have patience.” Already she can feel the beginning pulse of her daughter’s mind wiggling within her, the thoughts not entirely clear but becoming more formed with each and every day. She would never admit that the connection made her warm from the inside out, but she cherished it in secret.
Still, she is irritable when she hears Fox approaching, catching onto the now familiar pattern of his own mind as he approaches her. A single ear flicks toward him as she feels his mouth trace its way up her body. The body once so lithe now entirely foreign to her. As he manipulates the air around them, the temperature dropping considerably, she sighs. “That’s better,” her voice makes it clear the relief she feels. “I don’t know why you insisted on bringing us to the hottest part of Beqanna.”
As if this isn’t her birth home.
As if she doesn’t know the danger that lurks outside of its borders.
Still, she won’t admit such things. Instead she sniffs, casting him a long look from underneath her lashes. “Hello, Fox.” She hasn’t quite mastered the sweet nothings that he says so easily, not relaxed completely into the emotions that simmer in her chest. It’s easier to ignore them now when they aren’t in the throes of passion and when she’s mostly focused on the discomfort. It’s easier to ignore the way her pulse still spikes when he comes near her and the way she sometimes shifts closer to him when sleeping, acting surprised when she wakes up curled next to him. Confused by everything she falls silent, frowning a little.
“Do you think it’ll ever be safe out there again?”
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
He would have adored knowing her thoughts. Laughing at the irritably affectionate way she considered him in her own mind. Fortunately he doesn’t, but that does not prevent him from being entirely convinced she needs a little light-heartedness in her life. Namely, him. Even if she still struggles to admit it, she wouldn’t have him any other way.
Really, Fox is not conceited at all. Truly.
Though, to be fair, he does know her far better than she wants him to. And that must count for something. After all, when she curls against him in slumber or in the afterglow of their… other activities, everything he could want to know is written there in her lovely face and body.
She might wear that mask for everyone else, but he knows just how to remove it now. And we already know Fox is not a shy stallion about such matters.
She hadn’t had to stay, of course. But she had. And even if she cannot say it in words quite yet, it tells Fox everything. Delighting him in every way possible.
A low chuckle escapes his lips at her rather huffy quip as he trails his lips along the curve of her jaw before nibbling tenderly at the hollow of her throat. “Oh, it’s not so bad,” he responds, the humor in his tone matching the brightness in his eye. “Besides, isn’t that what you have me for?”
He places a soft kiss directly over the sensitive flesh he’d been teasing before withdrawing abruptly, a broad grin quirking his lips. Her softer greeting delights him, and he closes in once more. This time though, he trails his lips lightly along her rounded stomach before pressing his face against the firm curve. He waits patiently until a gentle kick presses against his cheek, causing him to pull away and laugh in delight. “I can’t wait to meet her,” he says softly then, pressing another kiss her Lynx’s belly. “What will we name her?”
Her question stirs a protectiveness in him, drawing him closer. As though pressed against her isn’t already close enough. “Yes,” he responds with confidence, though he isn’t entirely certain he feels it. “It has to be.”
She hates the way her body responds to him. Hates the way it warms beneath his attention, the way she wants to purr with pleasure. The first time she had given into him, it had been something new and adventurous, something rebellious and bold. She had been taken by the excitement of it. The way they had been able to discover one another, peeling back secrets and distance to find what lie beneath.
But now—now, it is something else entirely.
Something familiar.
Something altogether more dangerous for it.
She shivers where he presses tender kisses into her skin and curses herself for it, curses herself for the way that he knows all of her secret places. She steels herself against it and melts into it, depending on the day, depending on her mood. She wants to grow icy beneath his attention now, but he begins to fuss around her stomach and something flutters within her—something maternal and warm—and she softens.
“I don’t know,” she breathes, her voice quieter and stripped of her usual steel. “Do you have ideas?”
She ignores the way that the flutters in her stomach begin to bite, begin to move through her with a more rhythmic pain. “Fox, ah—” her voice breaks off as she swallows, pressing firmly into him. “It may be sooner than you think.” She grits her teeth as a foreign pain begins to grip her and she closes her eyes, riding out the wave of it. She opens her mouth to say something further, but it is ripped from her.
She lowers herself to the ground, shivering and growing damp with sweat at the same time.
And what passes next happens quicker than she could have imagined.
It is smooth. Relatively smooth. And she is thankful for the quickness of it, the smoothness of it. She grits her teeth and groans with each push but it does not take long before the life that has been growing within her slips from her and onto the soft Tephra ground. It doesn’t take long for Lynx to make her way to her feet, to find her daughter, to feel something entirely new blossom in her chest as she takes her in.
She can feel the ripples of her mind pressing into the air as she sorts through them.
When she realizes that she can feel her own thoughts echoed back at her, she cannot hide the delight and concern that sweeps through her with equal measure. “She’s a mind reader too,” she breathes as she leans down and begins to clean their precious daughter. “She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
He hides his smile against her skin, delighted by the way she shivers beneath his touch. Still she resists, a token resistance, but Fox is a very stubborn man. He could out-stubborn even her, and that’s saying something. Of course, had he been any less, he might have given up on her long ago. But, even if he cannot read her thoughts, he knows it’s fear that holds her back far more than anything else.
No matter how jovial his outlook, even he understands the world is not a kind one. And she could see it so much more clearly than he could.
She is distracted briefly by his question. He can feel her soften beneath the thought of their daughter, and he rubs his nose affectionately against her dark skin. “Hmmmmmm,” he rumbles thoughtfully, eyes growing distant as he considers possibilities.
Before he can start tossing out ideas however, she interrupts him. He blinks, gaze coming into focus as she presses closer to him. A frown creases his features as it slowly becomes clear she had been hiding her discomfort from him. Or rather, much more likely, ignoring it entirely. But it seems their little girl is waiting for no one.
Alarm suddenly bubbles forth in his chest as she closes her eyes, grimacing against the pain. “Lynx?” he questions softly, pressing his muzzle in worried patterns along her shoulder and neck, breath whuffing softly against as he tries to verify she is truly ok. This is normal, right? This is what’s supposed to happen?
When she settles herself onto the ground, he noses worriedly at her for a moment before abruptly stepping back to give her space. His gaze jumps to a distant point as he wonders briefly if he should fetch help. A healer. Something. “Do you… need anything?”
He frets over her still, going from pacing protectively around her to lightly touching her just to verify she was still doing well enough. He uses his snow and ice to soothe her tired, over-heated flesh. As much as she would allow, at least. But in the end it seems all of his fretting had been for naught. With very little ado, their filly slips into the world.
His own happiness bursts inside his chest when he gets his first clear look at her. He hovers over them as Lynx fusses at her, bright eyes darting from mother to daughter and back again, as though unable to decide where to land. An irresistible grin tugs at his lips as he finally settles beside Lynx, reaching down to fuss gently over the little red filly too.
“She is perfect,” he whispers with quiet awe. She is a blend of them both, his mottled red and her mother’s perfect white splashes. His gaze turns to Lynx then, briefly, a hint of amusement returning to his tone. “Just like her mother.”
Their daughter begins to struggle in earnest then, trying to pull her wobbly little frame sternal. Fox nudges her gently, helpfully, until finally she manages, her gaze turning up to peer innocently at her parents. Barely minutes old, and she’s already managed to steal his heart. “What do you think of Persea?” he finally suggests. She smiles at them, a wide, toothless smile that is all gums, as though she agrees. Fox can’t help the return grin that sneaks onto his lips.
Lynx has never been one made for such sweet moments.
She wasn’t raised to truly enjoy them, wasn’t raised to soften herself and become vulnerable in the embrace of another; instead, she had been taught from an early age that it was wise to harden yourself against the world because it would do nothing to accommodate your weakness. It was a lesson that had only been reinforced her later years, the constant onslaught of thoughts from the world around her teaching her again and again that the world was a cruel place and you needed to be cruel to survive.
But now, with his open, joyful face and the gummy smile of her daughter (her daughter), she finds that the world does not feel so cruel—does not feel so cold. Her dual-colored eyes close for a moment and a rare smile finds her lips as she tips her head back, looking up at the sky as it circles above them.
She can feel Fox’s happiness flood through her and it morphs into her own—his excitement taking root in her and blossoming in her chest. It is not his magic though, she thinks, that causes such an emotion to spread through her. There is nothing manipulative about it (although, to his credit, Fox has never tried to pull the strings of her own emotions); instead, it is just the joyful feeling of taking place in his joy.
They are parents.
Parents.
Part of her softens, lets the magic of the moment seep into her, and she thinks that perhaps it would not be the end of the world to let it. “She is nothing like her mother and for that you should be grateful,” her smile is warm though, the iciness of it thawing as she looks down to her daughter, watching as she stumbles to her feet. For a second, she tilts her head, lips pursing, before she laughs, the sound girlish and warm as she meet Fox’s gaze. “Persea is perfect,” her voice quiets, gaze settling on him.
For a moment she is quiet, watching the warm lines that make up his face and, not for the first time, she is grateful that he cannot read her thoughts as she can so easily read his. Grateful that he cannot see how vulnerable she truly is before him, the love that takes root and grows with each passing day.
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
He is distracted by their daughter, becoming lost in the paternal affection that overtakes him as he fusses gently over her. Distracted enough that he misses the way she looks at him. Misses the too brief span of time her face had displayed the warmth and affection he always longed to see. He’d always been so observant with her, refusing to miss even the smallest nuance and change of her features. It is the only way he could ever hope to read her.
But their daughter had caught his attention, his own happiness spilling over as he wonders at the perfect little being they had created together. She is already stirring, her little face twisting in concentration as she tries to make her new legs obey. He chuckles when her first attempt lands her back on her belly, long, knobby akimbo. She huffs at him, already trying again. Her second attempt nearly lands her on her backside, but Fox is there, using his much sturdier frame to catch her. Holding her until she collects her shakey legs beneath her.
Grinning, he looks up at Lynx, his eyes bright, features so open with transparent delight. Persea takes her first few wobbling steps, triumphant in her success. After a few moments, she finds her way to her mother, nosing beneath her belly as she searches for her first meal.
Fox turns his full attention the girl’s mother then, gaze soft and happy. He closes the distance between them, pressing close to as he trails a row of kisses along her neck to the curve of her cheek. “I think,” he finally says, his tone lightly teasing, “her mother is exquisite and strong and wonderful.” Pressing his nose warmly against her, he pinches her skin lightly between his teeth. Punishment for insulting herself so. “If she is half as great as her mother, she’ll be amazing.”
All of the voices inside of my mind will never be silenced
At first the world is bright. And confusing. And loud. It is so hard to make heads or tails of. Not when it had been so quiet and dark and warm, then suddenly it is not. There first thing that becomes clear is her mother. Soft and comfortable and familiar. She can hear her so loudly, love and concern tangling inside her mind. Lynx.
It’s confusing, these words, but she could sort them later. Because it becomes louder, more clamouring. Worry, excitement, joy. It takes her a moment to sort through these ones, they are so loud and boisterous. But they make her happy too, so she finds she does not mind so much. Because they are laced with love and protection. Suddenly she knows, this is her father. Fox.
Persea. She hears it before it comes from his lips, an echo of his riotous mind. Is it normal to say things twice like that? Perhaps that is how everyone does it.
It takes her a moment to realize Persea is she. That is her name. She blinks for a moment before a wide smile spreads across her tiny mouth. Yes, she likes that. It has such a nice sound. It reminds of her of before, when it had been quiet and warm and dark.
When hunger stirs her belly, she frowns a little. But instinct tells her momma could help her. She had to get to momma. She looks up. She seems miles away even though in truth it is little more than a few steps. Small features setting into determined lines, she struggles to get her ungainly limbs beneath her. It takes her a few tries. Daddy laughs the first time, and she huffs a little grumpily at that. He thinks it’s funny, she can feel it. But daddy seems to like laughing a lot. And he comes to help her so she forgives him.
When finally she stumbles the few steps between her and momma, she sighs in relief as she leans against her sturdy weight. She can smell something delicious. Milk. She picks out the word from the confusion. Yes, momma would feed her milk.
After she fills her belly, she draws back, teetering on her wobbly limbs. She doesn’t like this. Not one little bit. She wanted to be strong, like mom and dad. But time will not hasten, even for impatient little fillies. Exhaustion begins to pluck persistent fingers at her mind then, and her impatience fades as blinks sleepily at momma. With a sigh, she stumbles forward, pushing beneath momma’s neck. Folding her long, knobby legs, she barely avoids simply collapsing to the ground as she tries to curl as gracefully at her mother's feet as her untried limbs will allow. She blinks a few times, stubbornly resisting sleep until it’s pull can no longer be denied. Until she is swept under with a satisfied little sigh.
until I can find a way to let go of what we left behind
Lynx had never imagined that she would find herself in the center of such a loving family.
She would have never imagined that she would soften before the doe eyes of a beautiful daughter, feel the barest flutter of butterflies in her stomach when her daughter’s father came up her side—something soft and feminine giving as she closes her eyes, leaning into the teasing touch. Suddenly, she is too tired, too content, too everything to fight it fully and she lets her lips curve, takes a deep, shuddering breath.
Fox’s teasing words make her drop her lashes, her harsh face still pretty, the ivory and onyx eyelashes covering eyes of icy blue and molten red. “Her mother has you fooled, Fox.” Her voice is quiet and strangely contemplative as she looks up through her lashes, something unreadable twisting in the back of her mind before she sighs. She reaches out, lips brushing her cheek and coming to rest against his own, breathing in the familiar, spicy scent fo him. “But I can’t find it in myself to be sorry that you are.”
The words rest on the edge of her tongue, the ones that would finally free her in so many ways—the words that would open up her confession, shed her of the weight of this constant armor. But she still refuses to say them. Instead she looks down as her daughter wobbles forward, belly full, and she presses a kiss into her forehead. “It will get easier with time,” she says softly, a secret between her and her child. “The voices will be loud—so incredibly loud—but you’ll learn how to quiet them, with practice.”
She thinks back to her childhood, back to the splitting headaches and fear and hate.
Back to when it felt like the entire world wouldn’t stop screaming.
How she wishes she could protect her from that.
But she can’t and she knows that so she releases her with a quiet breath, letting her fold near her feet and find sleep once more. When she looks back to Fox, her face remains stripped clean, scrubbed raw and she finds she can say nothing except lean her forehead into his neck, breathing him in and finding herself.
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
He could never hope to comprehend the clamour she must feel inside her own mind on a daily basis. Couldn’t pretend to know what his own daughter would experience with the gift she’d inherited. But he does know he could love them both. That they need never fear his thoughts. That he would build them a safe haven if he must. It saddens him momentarily that they might never enjoy the world the way he does. That he could enjoy the loud and boisterous that would only make them ache.
But Lynx had learned to have some control over her ability, and he harbors little doubt their daughter would too. He would make sure she had a safe world in which to do so. That much at least, he could do. She could experience the beautiful before she ever had to learn of the ugly.
With an amused smile, he brushes his lips over her cheek, her closed eye, down the finely crafted hollows of her nose. His eyes meet hers openly when she finally looks up at him, her gaze softer than he had seen it before. His lips twitch at her words, a soft hum escaping his throat as she brushes her nose gently across his cheek. “Impossible,” he quips in a low, amused tone. “And you definitely shouldn’t be sorry.”
When their daughter settles at her mother’s feet, Fox drops his gaze to roam lovingly over her for a moment. Lynx shifts to nuzzle Persea, whispering gently into the downy fur of her small forehead. Persea blinks sleepily at her mother, offering her a sweet smile, a tiny nod, before sinking into slumber.
Fox presses closer to Lynx as she looks back up at him, her face so open and lovely and aching. He rubs his nose soothingly along her neck as he presses warmly, comfortingly, against her. He does not need to be a mind reader to read the worry that she now feels. “She’ll be ok,” he whispers, his breath warm against her skin. “We’re not your parents.”
No matter what awaits her out in the world, their daughter would learn only joy and happiness here, with them. If there is anything Fox excels at, it is that.
