The blue roan would never understand what it was about battle that appealed so greatly to those who fought within them. She would never understand the cleansing caliber of physical combat nor the sheer sense of aliveness invoked by the suspense of battle. She would never understand the aberrantly quenching indices of physical exertion nor the thrill of a triumphant campaign and the thwarting frustration of defeat.
She knew not what it truly was to lose to a comrade to its abhorrent throes. And yet, she had stood in the midst of combat many times; witnessed many bloody battles unfold before her eyes. These had been only visions of course, remnants of a time lost to history.
There had been a time when she had desired to test her fighting capabilities, but there had been more important things to devote her attention to, namely her duties as a lover and soon-to-be mother. Perhaps, had she not fallen pregnant or committed her heart to Azzuen, she too would be worthy of the title of soldier. But she needn't dwell nor ponder such things. Were she to do it all again, the anecdote of her love story would undergo naught a single alteration. She no longer yearned to be a fighter. Her heart was drawn toward more peaceful endeavors. She was nurturer by nature, a lover by design, a creature of quiet determination and inspiring wisdom. A warrior, she most certainly was not.
Some things were just meant to be, she supposed. It was inevitable that Cirrus would find herself in many a battle. She was a fighter by nature, with a passion derived from the ardent fervor which flickered brilliantly in the hearts of both her parents. Like her father she was determined, and Cassiopeia would often solvent her when she lamented over what she felt was inferiority, but was truthfully little more than youthful ineptness. Cassiopeia admired these traits in her daughter - some more than others - and there existed no doubt within her mind that she would make a fine role model for Azulee.
Cyan irises shone bright in the moonlight, glittering faintly as they embraced the dark physique of her lover. She craned her neck around toward the lanky filly at her side, watching lovingly as her petite face finally emerged from beneath her barrel, beads of a thin, white substance clinging to her lips.
Azulee pricked her ears attentively as she acknowledged a dark figure making its way across the terrain, and the cobalt dame sensed a smile tug at the corner of her lips. She nudged her forward, prodding her lightning-etched haunches gently toward the stallion whose blood pulsed through her veins, whose tribal heritage had endowed her with her ivory markings. She was certainly her father's daughter.
Cassiopeia returned her mate's gesture, bumping her nose against his own, breathing warm air into his nostrils. She then watched as the soldier - the image of strength, courage, passion - leaned down to meet his daughter, her entire aura leaking of innocence and a certain, unspoilt beauty that was inherent of youth. A celestial figure had perched upon the star breather's withers, emanating an ethereal light and illuminating her sleek contours with an alluring glow. Another avian constellation had alighted upon Cirrus's withers - one depicting Columba, the other Aquila.
The indigo hue of his eyes had gathered new intensity, tears of joy welling along the rim of his eyelids. 'Azulee, my daughter.' She smiled, tears gathering in her own cerulean pools. She wanted to bask in that moment; the beauty of it. Disappointment that he hadn't been there to witness her birth no longer threatened to pollute her blitheness. That didn't matter. Physical distance dividing two hearts was not an obstacle - rather, a stark reminder of just how impregnable true love could actually be. Love reckoned hours for days, and days for weeks, so that every little absence, no matter how finite, was mistaken for an age. Even though it had only been a week, she had certainly missed him, but if one loved another more than anything else, distance existed only as an obstacle for the mind, not the heart, and his absence had done naught a thing to lessen her love for him.
He had returned, he had fulfilled his duty, he had triumphed, but there existed one last triumph to prevail, and prevail they would, just as they had with Cirrus.
Her eyes wandered across his battered body, noting the wounds he had sustained. She then looked him in the eye, and held his gaze for a few moments. "I see you fought hard, love. Are you injured?" She asked, genuinely concerned for his well being.
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