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07-08-2017, 07:52 PM
Cirrus the WindDancer
It had happened so quickly.
They had been dancing, a warrior's ballet, a spar, a fight, because he had proven himself, he had transformed into a silver knight, valiant and strong, and he had caught her and-
And now she was here.
Pregnant. Very much pregnant.
She had found him afterwards, of course. And her hormones assisted in her raging at him. But as his old, decrepit self looked upon her with such joy, she found the flame of her anger wilt and sputter out, and replace itself with a much stronger, more passionate flame of joy, of acceptance, of simple, content happiness.
They had even danced again. Not a warrior's dance that ended in some lustful display of athletic prowess and magnificence, but a far more sensual, more meaningful dance.
It was all new to Cirrus, who had never been intimate before this, who had never shared so much with someone else since Sitka. And he, Kiro, he knew that, he knew all about her past, for they had spoken that very first day, about everything, and still they had lingered by each other's sides. The cloudmare didn't even mind Kiro when the sun ruined his body, she didn't mind that he was cursed, for now it seemed, he didn't mind about it either.
Was it love? Not in the traditional sense, but somehow Cirrus also knew that she would never lay with another, would never look at another stallion the way she did to this silver knight.
Pain rippled through her frame, and she clenched her jaw against it. Cirrus was not so naïve as to be ignorant to what was happening, but still worry lanced through her, concern that something was wrong.
Something had felt wrong ever since she had returned to Helovia. In the days she had still been able to fly over the lands after her 'dance' with Kiro, she had not been blind to the darkness swallowing up the realm.
Perhaps that was why she knew she would never feel this way about another stallion. Perhaps that was why she let herself feel that way about Kiro.
"You're a dickhead," she muttered under her breath, aiming her words at the stallion who she felt all these things for, the stallion without whom, her body would not be doing this to her.
"I know," came his smooth reply, as he pressed his silver maw against her. It was night, of course, so his strength and vitality was returned, his cursed lifted, if only while the moonlight paints the lands in its soft, muted tones. They were upon the beach that they had barely left these past weeks, for it seemed to be the only safe place left in a dying realm.
The cloudmare leaned into her quicksilver lover, accepting his touch even as another contraction told her it was time to bend her knees, to fall to the sands and let nature takes its course.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Twins. Not one, but two new lives began this night. Cirrus, properly exhausted but stubbornly fighting back the fatigue, lifted her sweat-drench nape and tiara from the beach and looked with cerulean eyes at the creations she (and Kiro) had birthed.
The first, a colt, sturdy and stocky in build like she, though already showing hints of one who would grow tall like his father, caught her attention. Kiro, upon ensuring Cirrus was alright, had already begun licking the dampness from the children's pelt, and the cloudmare watched as the colt's pelt slowly dried and changed.
Born silver, but drying to a dark roan. Cirrus almost laughed at the wonder of it all, but her attention was pulled to the filly instead.
This one was much more a mix of her parents, with silver strands bordering her pale roan pelt, with elegant features of her father's unicorn mixing evenly with the feathery side of Cirrus.
Finally, the cloudmare watched the sire, Kiro, the cursed one, and wondered if he still felt so accursed, so afflicted. Would he linger once the sun rose and his body went back to its ruined, rotten state? Would he remain, happy and present, with her and their children?
For the first time in a number of months, Cirrus felt the flicker of fear and panic rise again, the paranoia of being abandoned, of being left alone again. She shivered, as the coolness of the night tugged at her sweaty hide, before rising, the smile gone from her face, as the questions swam around her mind.
She tried to ignore the questions, the nagging sense that something terrible was about to happen, and instead put what was left of her energy into these foals, these children - her children.
They had been dancing, a warrior's ballet, a spar, a fight, because he had proven himself, he had transformed into a silver knight, valiant and strong, and he had caught her and-
And now she was here.
Pregnant. Very much pregnant.
She had found him afterwards, of course. And her hormones assisted in her raging at him. But as his old, decrepit self looked upon her with such joy, she found the flame of her anger wilt and sputter out, and replace itself with a much stronger, more passionate flame of joy, of acceptance, of simple, content happiness.
They had even danced again. Not a warrior's dance that ended in some lustful display of athletic prowess and magnificence, but a far more sensual, more meaningful dance.
It was all new to Cirrus, who had never been intimate before this, who had never shared so much with someone else since Sitka. And he, Kiro, he knew that, he knew all about her past, for they had spoken that very first day, about everything, and still they had lingered by each other's sides. The cloudmare didn't even mind Kiro when the sun ruined his body, she didn't mind that he was cursed, for now it seemed, he didn't mind about it either.
Was it love? Not in the traditional sense, but somehow Cirrus also knew that she would never lay with another, would never look at another stallion the way she did to this silver knight.
Pain rippled through her frame, and she clenched her jaw against it. Cirrus was not so naïve as to be ignorant to what was happening, but still worry lanced through her, concern that something was wrong.
Something had felt wrong ever since she had returned to Helovia. In the days she had still been able to fly over the lands after her 'dance' with Kiro, she had not been blind to the darkness swallowing up the realm.
Perhaps that was why she knew she would never feel this way about another stallion. Perhaps that was why she let herself feel that way about Kiro.
"You're a dickhead," she muttered under her breath, aiming her words at the stallion who she felt all these things for, the stallion without whom, her body would not be doing this to her.
"I know," came his smooth reply, as he pressed his silver maw against her. It was night, of course, so his strength and vitality was returned, his cursed lifted, if only while the moonlight paints the lands in its soft, muted tones. They were upon the beach that they had barely left these past weeks, for it seemed to be the only safe place left in a dying realm.
The cloudmare leaned into her quicksilver lover, accepting his touch even as another contraction told her it was time to bend her knees, to fall to the sands and let nature takes its course.
Twins. Not one, but two new lives began this night. Cirrus, properly exhausted but stubbornly fighting back the fatigue, lifted her sweat-drench nape and tiara from the beach and looked with cerulean eyes at the creations she (and Kiro) had birthed.
The first, a colt, sturdy and stocky in build like she, though already showing hints of one who would grow tall like his father, caught her attention. Kiro, upon ensuring Cirrus was alright, had already begun licking the dampness from the children's pelt, and the cloudmare watched as the colt's pelt slowly dried and changed.
Born silver, but drying to a dark roan. Cirrus almost laughed at the wonder of it all, but her attention was pulled to the filly instead.
This one was much more a mix of her parents, with silver strands bordering her pale roan pelt, with elegant features of her father's unicorn mixing evenly with the feathery side of Cirrus.
Finally, the cloudmare watched the sire, Kiro, the cursed one, and wondered if he still felt so accursed, so afflicted. Would he linger once the sun rose and his body went back to its ruined, rotten state? Would he remain, happy and present, with her and their children?
For the first time in a number of months, Cirrus felt the flicker of fear and panic rise again, the paranoia of being abandoned, of being left alone again. She shivered, as the coolness of the night tugged at her sweaty hide, before rising, the smile gone from her face, as the questions swam around her mind.
She tried to ignore the questions, the nagging sense that something terrible was about to happen, and instead put what was left of her energy into these foals, these children - her children.
eagle-cry-designs | larfsalot
on deviantart
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
