belladonna, in italian a beautiful lady; in english a deadly poison.

"Okay," she whispered, sinking complacently back into her beloved's hold. Such a simplistic request, but one that clearly held weight and value beyond measure to Ktulu in that long, taffy moment of pain and suffering. So though it was awkward to hold her belly at such an angle, she pressed her face into the soft skin of her mate's hide, hugging her back just as desperately as she could manage. The moment stretched on, her words failing her, her natural desire to comfort faltering and stumbling hesitantly. What could she say in the face of such suffering? It was unfair to both of them, but Lakota gave as much as she could while she tried to imagine a proper response. Was there even one?

Words where whispered, faint and whittling away into nothingness, into the dark space between her tresses. Held in her skin like starlight, like secrets and sin. But starlight had become sin in those tremulous words, and Lakota hated the Bitch On High ever more for that awareness. She'd never liked the solitary Goddess, not after her first quest, no matter how similar their natures. For queens and villains did not take kindly to those of similar stations, after all. And what made it so much worse was that they could do nothing. There was no revenge to be taken, no pound of flesh to be taken, no life claimed in retribution. For they were mortal, and she a goddess they had never asked for, who did not deserve their love nor their fealty.

"I'm sorry," was all she could numbly repeat once more. For what could she say? She could not promise anything against a being too old, too powerful for Lakota to conquer. There was nothing Lakota could give her. Comfort, perhaps, in the form of false and hollow words. But it was an empty, aching sort of comfort. Lakota was blind to the fact that Ktulu wanted that, could not see why anyone would desire such falseness. "It will never be okay, not really," she murmured mournfully, pressing her cheek into Ktulu's warmth. "But it will get better," kissed her lips, transferred into her mate's skin as they moved against her hide. "He loved you so much, and you have to try and heal, if only for his sake," Lakota breathed, tentative, not sure how much was too much when it came to bringing Hototo's name into the equation.

"But I'll be here every step," was vowed on quiet, insistent breath. Her body was tired and her words murmured, but it did nothing to quell her passion and love in spirit. Tired eyes glanced up at the vocalizing of her name, and they softened with grief and comfort in turn to see Archibald standing as a stone guardian above them. "Archibald," she cooed tiredly in response, eyes fluttering to a close as his muzzle kissed her cheek. She hadn't seen him since the invasion, hadn't seen anyone aside from her brother who had promptly vanished directly after. To know he was there, that he was well, it was all she could ask for. And she would never seek to turn him away, he was as part of the family as Ktulu and the little foal inside her belly. Odd to others, perhaps, but they'd never understand the kind of bond Lakota held with the last remaining members of the Grey.

Lifting her head weakly as he spoke the mare managed a watery smile. The dam was not very resilient in the face of her already hormonal emotions, and tears slipped from her lashes unbidden. "Thank you," she choked, incapable of detailing exactly what her gratitude was based on. For being here. For always being here. For your support, your shoulder, your friendship. Though a dark whisper in her mind could not help but cruelly laugh at her love. He is not here for you, you idiot, he's here for Ktulu. Just like everyone else. But he was there nonetheless, and Lakota would soak in his presence while she could.

Lakota