"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
I had a home! It was so exciting, this bubbly feeling that I felt as I wandered beside Eira. My legs had long since grown used to my wobbling around even if they were feeling a bit tired and out of sorts. Every now and then I would stumble and my wings would flare out and catch me. I could feel the muscles moving underneath my fur and it was weird at first, almost like they weren't supposed to be there. But they were and I figured I would get used to the extra muscles (even though technically I knew no other way they should be.) Not everyone had wings, I had seen that when that other mare had come forwards and eyeballed my feathery wings.
She hadn't seemed to keen on them, but it had worked out as it was supposed. I was glad Eira had milk for me so I could leave the Den and not have to wait until I ate grass. That is what the adults ate right? I would have to try it sometime and see how it tasted. I didn't think it would be as good as milk or as warm and the wonderful sleepy feeling it gave you...
Anyways, my hooves were starting to drag when Eira smiles at me and touches her lips to my forehead gently. "Almost there?" I ask and she nods. The whole way had been me learning her name and where we were going and who was going to be there. She was a wealth of information my new mom. Mom...I had a mom!
"Mom!" I say excitedly all of a sudden, my lips touching her shoulder as I run past her and buck. I run around energetically for some time before my breaths are shallow and fast, my lungs sucking in as much oxygen as they could. "You're my mom." I say much quieter when I go back to her, touching my lips to her again and leaning against her solid warmth when we stop. There were supposed to be others here in the Dale. I smile, my eyes closing as I lean against her and I wait with her.
She hadn’t really discussed all of this with Weir. Well, she’d sort of discussed it with him. In the sense that he’d told her about how he’d come to adopt Neva. But she hadn’t exactly discussed the possibility of her adopting the child. Especially after they’d just had a child of their own.
She doesn’t thinks he’ll mind though. He couldn’t, could he? Just one look at that sweet little black face, and he’ll love her just as much as she does, surely?
She hopes so anyway.
Eira keeps her nerves under wraps as they cross over the border into the Dale. Little Graeme, now full of milk, is gambolling along at her side, in the lovely, happy, innocent way that young foals do. She’s tiring though, Eira can tell. Unsurprising - it’s already been quite a day for her. Not to mention the fact that the Dale is quite a long ways away from the den, at least for a young foal who likely hasn’t been getting enough to eat.
Little Graeme peers up at her, asking if they’re arrived yet. Eira smiles at the girl and leans down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Yes, dear-heart. We’re here.” Graeme suddenly perks up, brushing her lips against Eira’s shoulder before dashing about in a fit of energy. Eira chuckles. There’s no way Weir won’t love her too. Such a sweet little thing.
The little winged filly returns to her, giving her another little kiss before leaning into her side. “Yes Graeme, I’m your mom. Forever and ever.” She nuzzles the girl gently before raising her head to look about. There’s no sign of Weir yet, but she knows he can’t be far off. She raises her voice, calling out to him. She can’t wait for him to meet the newest member of their family.
Discussing things with Weir is not so bad, so long as you have the time to do so. Not discussing things with Weir was not so bad either, he was an agreeable sort of fellow that way. Taking a child in from the den had been as easy as breathing, as sure as filling one’s belly with sweet grass when you were hungry, it was something that had to be done. How could you just leave them there? It was a cold place in its own way and not from temperature alone, it simply held that sort of presence to him. There is no way he could have ever left sweet little Neva alone in that place, and one look at the speckle coated, frost riddled girl and he knew it was meant to be. Now the roan did not make a habit of frequenting the adoption lands because it was simply too sad, but he would never question another’s decision to bring home one of the poor dears- certainly not Eira’s either.
If he could manage Weir would likely have brought home a lot more than just the one frosted girl but he thought it best to not make a habit out of going, and it made him uncomfortable as well. Once he had found a child on the brink of death and that endeavor had not panned out well at all, to this day it was a thought he tried best to tuck away into the deep recesses of his brilliant mind.
When the bay mare calls he is always quick to answer, her words were song to his ears, a tether to his heart and without much thought he chose his preferred method of transport rather than walking, the limp he had sustained from the war was rather annoying. In true Weir fashion he made sure to have fun with things, swirling against the winged child in the form of snow and bitter wind. Twisting about in pale blues and soft powdery whites like crystals in the sun before materializing from the icy matter. “Halloooo my dear, who is this then?”The first question is directed to his lady love, Eira, the most beautiful woman in all the lands. Had they had another child, so soon?
Weir thought on that for a moment, amber eyes narrowing, no surely they only had the one child, so this one, well who did this one belong to? “A young friend of Newton’s I suspect?” A perfectly plausible reasoning, they were abouts the same age if he were to guess.
Newton had a curious friend here, one with wings, how nice! The fae had really outdone themselves this season and he couldn’t help but eye the extra appendages closely. “My, my what a wonderful set of wings you have. Are they heavy?” Of course he had many questions, one’s he had never thought to ask Phaedrus of because well, it hadn’t come up now had it? However children usually were more accommodating when it came to learning and telling and Weir could not waste the opportunity. He didn’t think the wings were heavy, especially since they looked like they belonged there and also because he knew that birds wings were hollow so perhaps they weighed nothing at all to the child. It is best to know though don’t you think, to ask the source?
“Oh goodness, my apologies young one. I am Weir,” A tip of his rusty head as he makes proper his greeting.
Mom was waiting for someone. She calls for them and waits ever so patiently. I was leaning just about my whole body against her. I was tired, my eyes were starting to get really heavy. Finally, I just fold my body up, laying at her hooves. I start out curled up but then I shift so I am sprawled out on the ground, my back brushing against her left front hoof. My face is faced in the direction we were looking and I blink against the heaviness of my eyes.
I want to see who answers mom's call, but I'm dozing off. It's a losing battle really. I closed my eyes. I'm not sure for how long I start to sleep before I feel the cold wind against my face and my body. I jerk up, blinking as I look that these white things flying around me.
I lurch to my feet, curious about them and my sleep forgotten about. I step closer to this whirlwind of snow and when it solidifies into a horse I still. But he's speaking to momma as if he knows her and so I am content with the nice sounds in his voice. He doesn't seem mean or hostile. "Momma, who's this?" I say once he was done and then he is asking me about my wings.
"Not really..?" I stretch them out, peering at them. But I remember what he said before.
"Thank you! I haven't learned to use them yet but I will! I think I should probably grow a little bigger first before I do, don't you think? Or do you think I can try to fly with them now?" My smile stretches across my face and I step forward to inhale his scent.
My ears flicker with his name and I label him as friend in my mind. "I imagine that they might be heavy if they got wet...I don't know though." And then I turn back to my mom, dark eyes flashing with curiosity. "Mom do you know anyone with wings that could teach me?" I certainly seemed talkative right now, but I was really excited to not be by myself. After all the faeries had so many other babies that it was sometimes hard. They would play with you when they could but if someone else needed fed or watched over play time would have to wait.
I knew I had been lucky. My birth day had been full of amazing things. I had lost a mom, found a mom, and found a home.
Graeme
Sorry she couldn't wait. She saw Weir's post and had to post RIGHTNOW.
She grins at the wintery breeze that swirls around the child, then begins to crystallize in front of them into the form of her mate. “Weir, this is Graeme.” She watches Graeme’s expression as Weir addresses her and comments on her wings. Weir is being his lovely self as always, but it’s hard to guess what the girl will think of him. Eira doesn’t know what the girl has been through after all.
But she doesn’t seem too concerned, though perhaps confused. “Weir is, well, Weir is my mate, Graeme.” She’s not really sure how else to define what they have. “We have two children together - Neva and Newton.” For truly, she’s come to regard Neva as her own too. “Newton’s your age, I think the two of you will get along.”
Weir’s comment on her wings leads to more questions, and Eira’s head cocks to the side as she thinks. “I don’t think so, off the top of my head … oh wait!” She turns her head to look at Weir. “Doesn’t one of the members of the army have wings? Ph … I don’t remember his name. Do you think he’d be willing to give Grame a few flying lessons?” He’d probably be their best bet - while both Weir and Eira have ways to ‘fly’ of sorts, neither of them use wings. Unless Weir is still hiding some trick or other.
She takes a few steps towards Weir and reaches up to whisper in his ear. “I hope this is alright. I found her in the den and I … I just couldn’t leave her there, poor thing. She was so hungry, and I do have milk to spare.”
EIRA
nothing's only words, that's how hearts get hurt
Bah, tricky getting back into posting. Sorry for the horrendous wait!
I'm going to post Neva too, but you don't have to wait for her. Unless you want to start a new thread because I've taken so long on this one? (Again I'm so sorry)
His entrance is that of theatrics and fun, never sparing a moment for some playfulness and cheer. The girls name is odd on his tongue as he plays with the word in his head, silently sounding it out, ‘Graeme’. He wasn’t one to judge though, certainly there were many others that thought his own calling was an odd one but he liked it nonetheless and this one too would grow on him.
Weir rolls out the questions like a red carpet for a movie premier, long and loud. The rusty hued male does this often, there’s just too much going on in his brilliant head that most of the time it is truly a mess and he can not hope to quiet it. When the girl quickly finds her words he is forever pleased, intent on her answers, nodding and “mmm-hmming” in the blank spaces between speech. Indeed, indeed wings were heavy when wet of course and though he hadn’t expected the girl to think them heavy it was always nice to confirm his ideas when he had a valid source. Who’s to say the confirmation of a child was any less meaningful than that of an elder or scholar- not he.
“A splendid answer yes, perhaps waiting for a bit of age before trying them out might be best, or perhaps a proper teacher. I’m afraid I havnt the experience of proper flight my dear but-” Weir doesn’t have to finish his ramble of words, stopping mid-sentence as the girl turns to Eira and asks for an instructor herself, already calling the bay beauty ‘Mom’. The word melts him, a large smile growing wide across his velvet lips and he can only be joyous at raising yet another life, perhaps they, together, could spread upstanding citizens throughout the realm of Beqanna- at least they could try. Who though, who would dump such a lovely child in the den?
Whoever left them always seemed to leave the pleasant ones didn’t they? Poor darlings, how they ever managed to walk away he wouldn’t dare guess but he’d like to think they had their reasons. If he could give them some small benefit of the doubt he would.
To the question of teaching he does have a proper answer and a name for whom they might seek to help. “Of course, Phaedrus has wings my dear, well spotted!” The idea strikes him suddenly, gears whirling about as he nods himself into assurance. “We’ll have to settle that with him won’t we Graeme? Oh you’ll like Phaedrus, a good sort of fellow he is.” Would that he could ruffle her little forelock but he does not yet think they well acquainted enough for such things, instead he leans into Eira as she speaks, keeping the conversation from small ears. “All right?” he whispers in question, brushing her ear with his maw, “absolutely. No need to worry on it Eira, we have plenty of room. No need for my permission, think nothing of it.”
