the Rift


[PRIVATE] Daughters Born In Secrets

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#1


Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

It was quiet here, the silence echoed in her ears. Her hair spread around the cave, a tangle of silky waves. Golden orbs watched the light flicker against the back of the desolate cave. Surely she was not meant to die here, in these caves that supposedly offered her protection. The Basin would always be her home, but in the mean time the pregnant mare decided to remain silent and settle down in the safety of her cave. The time was near, her slender legs could no longer carry the weight of her swollen belly. The child was huge, it was almost unfair that Arah found herself still carrying. A dull pain radiated from within, and Arah quietly sucked in a breath. Was this the start of the labour? As the dull ache eased, the beauty exhaled with it. Then she waited, silently counting in her head. The pain returned ever so slightly stronger than before. Nerves fluttered within her, there was never a pretty tale to be heard about labour. And so hers had begun...already she wanted it to be older.

As the pain grew Arah panted, groaned and softly whined in her secluded cave. Get it out...get it out. Her thoughts mashed together in the heat of pain, but she could not think rationally. All the antlered and crowned beauty knew was that she wanted to hold the babe, not continue in the painful labour. Her teeth gnashed together as another contraction ripped through her body, but this one was different. Now she felt the desire to push. A short cry before The Impersonator began to push. Her breath ran out, but the push laster longer. She exhaled and waited, then she pushed again. This continued until finally she felt some relief and the life that she had grown was expelled from her body. "Oh my sweet child...My darling." Her voice is weak, rough from the labour. Knowing that she has to raise and see her child, make sure nothing is wrong, Arah tires to find her hooves. Trying to raise another spasm of pain rockets through her body. "It can't be..." a whispered doubt.

Panic. Sheer bloody panic. Arah needs to rise and see the life that she had just birthed. She needs to make sure that the little dove is alive and well. Instead the mare is panting, wanting to die, as she begins to climb the hill again. If she was able to think rationally, everything would be much clearer. Why she was so big, why she was so weak...but no. All Arah could do was worry about her already born baby and the second one that she was trying to deliver. As the second life leaves her body, blackness begins seeping into the mare's eyes. Blinking won't get rid of the death that she can see but she will not die yet. She has to see the little doves. It is a struggle to rise, her legs buckle and collapse from underneath her many times. They shake as they struggle to hold her weight. She makes it however, once her legs are holding steady Arah turns and looks upon the doves that lay on the ground below her.

A cough escapes from the lips of the newest babe, but the mother is in shock. They are perfect. Moving closer she inspects the first one, a girl. Her coat is dark, shining in the dim light. "More like Crowley...My baby girl. Asch." The name comes to her lips, yet it is perfect. Now her eyes move to the second child. "My little monster." Chuckling Arah looks over the second child, another girl. This one is grey with flecks of gold, on her rump and back. "Arwen." She doesn't realise the tears of joy that stream down her checks, the tears of a new mother.

"Abraham took Isaac's hand
And led him to the lonesome hill
While his daughter hid and watched
She dared not breathe; she was so still

Just as an angel cried for the slaughter
Abraham's daughter raised her voice

Then the angel asked her what her name was
She said, "I have none"
Then he asked, "How can this be?"
"My father never gave me one"

And when they saw her raised for the slaughter
Abraham's daughter raised her bow
"How darest you, child, defy your father?"
"You better let young Isaac go."


Her voice ends the silence, she cleans each babe gently and urges them to stand. They need to be strong, they have been born into a difficult time. Her two perfect daughters. The babes are so different from each other, but Arah felt nothing but love for each of them. The Moon and the Sun are as different as two objects can be. Yet they chase each other around the sky, their love is pure and nothing will stop them from trying to be together.

"You're going to be inseparable." Her grey forehead presses against Asch's tummy, urging the eldest girl to stand. Next she moves onto Arwen's tummy, gently urging the younger one to rise.

" "
Trying to keep it decent for younger audiences. xD
852 words.
@[Rhiannon] | @[Crowley]

And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Arwen Posts: 15
Deceased
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 8 Months
Frostie
#2

That first breath of air that your tiny lungs draw. Psycial feelings sweep over the hairs of the carriage that you will later learn is your body. Cold, hard, pain. Draw in another rattling breath, this one's lungs are weak and will need time to gather strength. Blinking, lids open and golden orbs take in their first look, so this is life. The first thing you see is another small body. Your other half, the one who ties you to the earth. Your lover, sister, carer and best friend. Even though you do not know just how close you and this other soul will be right now, later on in life you would rather die than be without them. Blinking you take in another shape now, your eyes settle on your mother and a smile lights up your face.

Instantly love lights up your world, this isn't the same bond that you share with your other half. No, this is who will protect you and raise you. Golden orbs turn back to your bond mate and you nicker softly. Your bodies press and share warmth, just like you shared in the womb. A cough rattles past your lips, you gasp and draw in a shaky breath. It hurts to breath for the next few breaths but all you do is nicker softy to your mother. The silence that presses into the delicate ears doesn't last long, the softest sweetest voice fills the cave. Your mother singing the old songs, your mother gifting you with your very first memory.

The name Arwen from before does not mean anything to you yet, however it is a blessed name. A gift from mother to daughter. A sound touch to you belly as your mother urges you to stand, raise and see the world one stronger legs. Her voice still echoes in your ears, and so you struggle, the voice gives you strength. The world is calling softly, the noise and slight discomfort coming from your stomach calls louder however. So the fight begins, you have to win to settle the growl in your stomach. You mother is not running away, but she is not lifting you up. This is a battle that you have to face on your own. Finally, you raise on wobbly legs, immensely proud of the effort, although in your young mind no emotions truly matter. Golden eyes revolve to look at your bond mate, a challenge to be as strong as you are. Then the first steps are taken, another cough rattles through your lunges.

You stumble over to the one that you know can feed you. You lean against her, still not stable on the skinny little legs that are meant to support you. The reaching you attach yourself to the teats and take your first drink of warm milk.

Arwen
I'll wear the armour.

image credits
table by whit

Crowley Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 12 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Talbot :: Common Hellhound :: Acid & Name? :: Caracal :: None Dingo
#3


These caves were maddening.

With every twist and turn taken, the Weaver found himself staring into the face of a stranger, whom he often turned his nose up to and with ears pinned, simply kept on walking. The Basin had only been here for a week at most, but already he was beginning to question his sanity. This was not the arctic home he'd come to cherish, and with each day that passed, Crowley found himself almost wishing that the darkness had taken him.

The one thing that did keep his mind straight, however, was that of Arah and the knowledge of the child that would soon arrive. It was with mild disappointment that Crowley reminded himself that he really didn't know the Impersonator all that well, and oftentimes he wondered if the alabaster mare regretted the action between them so long ago. He only knew that during the times they had spent together, there was something special about the antlered lady, and whether he realized it or not, she made him... happy.

Regardless of the doubts he felt, he had made it a point to keep an ever watchful eye on the mother-to-be, his worry having only increased when they'd made the trek from the north all the way to the Heart of Helovia. Arah was heavy with child, and it was only a matter of time before she couldn't bear to lug it around for another step.

"She won't leave like her," came Talbot's conscious into Crowley's own and the stallion shot him a curious look, but after a moment, he knew that the hound was speaking in regards to Elizabeth. Shortly after Rhiannon's own birth, the then-Corporal had more or less abandoned them to tend to the monotonous duty of guarding. Other than the task of feeding(despite the Weaver's occupation, he lacked the correct anatomy to do so himself), Rhiannon had been solely raised by him. She'd grown into a fine, young spitfire, and Crowley couldn't be more proud of her.

His thoughts were halted at the sound of a voice, one that he knew all too well and that demanded his attention. Coming to a stop and raising his head, Crowley peered down a narrow passageway where it had come from, and within a moment he was moving down it with Talbot close at his heels. When he reached the end, golden eyes widened at the scene before him; he couldn't believe it.

Arah was standing by the time he had arrived, and there was not one, but two wet and bloodied bodies lying upon the stony cave floor. One was just as pale as her mother save for a few golden specks across her rump, shoulders, and around her eyes, and a curiously shaped, stubby horn situated in the middle of her forehead. The other, also a filly, was a shade lighter than himself but held to his own brindled pattern, and held two small, curvy horn atop her head. Despite their current messy states, they were both beautiful, perfect.

As his master moved forward, Talbot hung back a bit, uncertain how to act in the presence of these new lives. It had been easy when Rhiannon was born, for he was just a pup back then, and these two weren't anywhere near ready to go romping and tearing through the caves. Instead, he stood quietly at Crowley's side, the tip of his spaded tail wagging. Crowley regarded Arah with a rare, genuine smile, and ever careful of the little ones, he made his way to the mare and pressed his muzzle into the thick of her neck if she so allowed, before looking back down at the fillies.

"You must be exhausted," he remarked softly, speaking to Arah but not looking to her, instead watching as the pale sister struggles to rise to her feet. It was a fight that everyone had to win, the first struggle of life that would only lead to so many more, especially born into such a difficult and uncertain time... but the twins didn't need to know that. They knew only the warmth of their mother, and for now, that was all they needed to know.

When Arwen succeed in getting to her feet, relief should have been what Crowley felt, but instead a look of concern creased the Weaver's face when she gave a harrowing cough. But she ambled forward anyway, reaching her mother to begin her first and most important feeding. Rhiannon had been plagued with a worrisome cough for the first few seasons of her life, but it had left her after some time and she was now completely healthy. For now he would dismiss it, and perhaps when the filly had finished her meal, he would seek out a healer to look her over.

Now, his attention went to little Asch. Moving from Arah and to the dark child, he lowered his head and pressed his muzzle gently into her side, urging her to rise and join her sister, for her very life depended on it. "Rise, Asch," he spoke with voice still uncharacteristically soft, a sliver of worry still ringing in the back of his mind. Or you will die.

I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith


Asch Posts: 25
Deceased
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 Months
Brit
#4

Asch and Arwen


Warm, and content, I do not think much of the close proximity of the other life I share my home with. As I grow, I become restless, kicking out with little limbs I'm still not quite used to calling mine. However long it takes, for time is nonexistent for me, it somehow works. It's an odd, uncomfortable process, my entrance into this world. I am hurting and sore, wet and shivering on the cavern floor. My eyes don't seem to want to open, and I stretch to and fro to rid myself of the odd substance surrounding me. I can hear shuffling, a soft voice that I instinctively know, somehow, means safety. Love. It is a term I'm not yet familiar with, but the emotion is there, swelling in my breast like a bird. But I don't know what a bird is yet, either. I'm sure to have plenty of adventures ahead of me, but for now, I am weak and defenseless, and though my stomach growls I cannot bid myself to move.

When at last I work my eyes open, I am surrounded by ivory and grey. It's hard to differentiate between object and flesh, but I know the voice that sings in my direction is mother. The one who will love me for all the years to come in the lifetime I have only just begun. Moments later and I am joined on the cold surface, and I make a pitiful noise of discontent. Why did I have to leave the warm sanctuary I'd been in? Sure it had been cramped, but it was far better than the pain of my birdlike bones jutting out against the hard earth beneath me, the chill sweeping through the fluid lingering on my frame and making me shiver. I look over, blearily, and observe the other tiny form that has taken the place beside me. In the future I will know her as more than the name our mother deigns her. I will know her as sister and friend, confidant and lover, protector and equal. I will be her shadow, her strength, and I will ask nothing more of her in return but love. She is my perfect other half, but as of now, she is a stranger to me. How strange that I should think this at any point in my life, looking back.

First, the larger pale form of mother stands, uncoordinated at first. Beside me my twin struggles to do the same, but I merely watch them. Is this the first sign of the silence I will occupy later in life? The easily overlooked figure I will become in contrast to my sister's brilliance? I can hear my twin suckling, know in my stomach that it means food and nourishment, but I merely shift my gangly legs and look around me. We are not alone for long, a new shape appearing, soft words speaking a name that is rightfully mine, had been given me by my mother. A strange presence comes with him, small like me, but smelling very odd and un-foal-like. My interest is interrupted by my father moving forward, and I look up at him with big copper-green eyes. I sit and I stare. Mother is love, is understanding and acceptance. But father...I never move my eyes away from him, staring as if entranced. Food and warmth are of no importance now as I try to get my newborn brain to work.

Daddy.

I make a sound of pleasure, tiny little ears pricking up, and I try to move forward to touch him. Inhale his scent. I'm fascinated by him, enchanted even, and I simply want to know more. But I am doomed to fail, for as my first leg wobbles I fall forward and nearly butt him in the muzzle with horns he had gifted me, tiny little stubs of keratin that will someday be a source of pride and protection for me. His voice calls my name, and I look up at the sound of his voice, for though I cannot distinguish the words the syllables are like a web of promises and adventures waiting to be started. Warmth touches my cold, shivering side, nudging me up. I could not deny him anything, feel inclined to obey the gentle command, and I begin the frustratingly endless work of organizing my limbs beneath me.

Crashing and falling repeatedly is just as bad as my first entrance to this cold world I'm in. But soon I am standing, and it's a joyous feeling. A little dizzying, but yeah. Still joyous. Instead of turning to my mother as most foals would, whose side is still occupied by my twin, I turn my head to the little creature standing astride my father. I tap a tiny hoof as I wobble forward, head lowered to investigate this new thing. I snort at it, for I don't know yet how to make any other sound, and my fluffy tail flicks in excitement. I have made my first discovery! But then my stomach pangs, and I turn and stubbornly, almost angrily, begin to conquer my legs as I wobble towards mother and sister.

I have a feeling I'm going to be worse at this walking thing than Arwen, if only because I am determined to conquer it, not learn from it. My stubborn will is already beginning to show, and I butt my baby horns into Arwen's side, barely a pathetic nudge if anything. I'm hungry, and though I love her, I don't love her enough to share my meals yet.




Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#5


Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

The Impersonator had not noticed Crowley's arrival, in fact only his gentle touch alerted her to his presence. Catching the rare smile on his lips, Arah grinned back proudly. "Your daughters, my love." Turning back to the babes, she nods in response to his question. "I am." Golden orbs turn to look over the father of her children once again, they shone bright and happy. True, she was not in love with Crowley but she definitely did love him. How could she not after he gave her these perfect gifts? "Worth it though." Turning back to the twins, the newly made mother studied the babes proudly. Asch still rested on the floor, Arwen however had struggled to her hooves. Although Arah was exhausted, the ivory mare forced herself to remain standing. Legs shaking and entire body aching, it was not a easy feat. "Crowley." Her lips form his name, she is so happy and peaceful in this moment.

Arwen, the small grey on stumbles over to her. A cough again slips through her small supple lips. Frowning Arah glances over to Crowley...only to see Asch tumbling and falling with ever step that she attempts to take. "Asch! Be careful!" Frowning with worry the mother watches the darker babe approach Talbot, nervous. It made Arah rather uncomfortable to see her new daughter by the hell hound. The doe didn't know much about Crowley's Talbot, his temperament might not be suitable when it came to having foals around him. It is not long until the moon child stumbles back over to them and Arah sighed in relief. "Crowley, Arwen has a cough. We should try and get a healer for her." Chucking the mother looks at the daughter of the moon, the stubborn girl and then looks over the daughter of the sun, more gentle perhaps. Still she loved them both and hummed a gentle tune. It was an old tune, one her mother had once sung to her. It was committed to her memory, the earliest memory she had actually. Once her younger sister had been born, Arah had hummed to her little sister as well. Arah looked at her youngest daughter whom she had named after her sister.

Bending down Arah gently brushes her muzzle along Asch's cheek in the attempt to ease her tiny nubed horns away from her sister's side. "Gently now my sweet child," a simple sigh fell from her exhausted lips. "That is your sister." She does however feel Arwen detach from her teats, the horns of her sister seemed to have upset the grey girl. Looking over at Crowley, the new mother figures he would wish to meet his other daughter. "Go see your father." She urges to the grey daughter. Then turning back to Asch, Arah bends down and begins to clean her eldest daughter. This one will have to be taught patience, how to share nearly everything with her twin. It was the belief of the doe that eventually Arwen and Asch would become inseparable. Arah reaches out to Crowley, needing his support. "I'm going to need you. More than ever, two babes? I can't do it alone." They would be able to get through this, only if they stayed together. They were in dark times and it scared the new mother that her daughters had been born in such troubled times. Perhaps it was for the best though. Being born at a time like this would make them grew into strong mares, the daughters of darkness.

" "
585 words.

And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Crowley Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 12 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Talbot :: Common Hellhound :: Acid & Name? :: Caracal :: None Dingo
#6


At Arah's welcome, the Weaver flashed her the gentlest of smiles, and though it was meant to fall from his face it only seemed to grow upon looking back to the frail bodies of the newborns. Not even an hour old yet, and already he could see slivers of personality coming from each of them.

The reaction that Crowley gained from Asch was one he certainly wasn't expecting, and as she looked up at him with big, green and gold eyes, he couldn't help but laugh softly beneath his breath and hope it wouldn't startle the newest additions to Helovia. Reaching out with his own muzzle, Crowley aimed to touch his second daughter's own gently, exhaling, inhaling, and then exhaling again to exchange scents with the filly. But soon, she begins struggling to rise as the brindle had demanded, though she fails almost instantly at first and nearly knocks him straight in the nose with her stubbed horns.

Crowley would never admit that it was one of the most adorable things he'd ever seen.

Soon, little Asch is up and on her spindly legs, but rather than go straight to her mother for the first and most important meal of her life, she focuses instead on Talbot, who isn't entirely sure how to react to the filly's sudden approach. The hound had grown up with Rhiannon, however, and so wasn't completely unfamiliar with the youngsters spawned by his master. With tail wagging behind him, Talbot took a single step closer to Asch, wet nose reaching out for hers, but she soon turns and almost angrily heads to her mother's side.

With both fillies now suckling at Arah's side, Crowley turned back to the alabaster queen and stepped to her opposing side, barrel to barrel if she allowed the touch. He had noticed her trembling legs through troubled eyes, and as she spoke of Arwen's cough, he offered a nod of his head. "Once they've finished their meal, I can fetch one; not only for Arwen, but for you as well." He wasn't sure if Arah would deny the attention that she may or may not need, but his tone was firm nonetheless to stress his concern for the pair. When the Impersonator reached for him, the Weaver returned her touch almost greedily, and he gave yet another nod of his head.

"Lady Illynx has requested I craft some things while we are here, and I can't ignore that. But I will be at your side as often as I can, and when I must leave, Talbot will remain with you. He can relay to me that I'm needed and provide protection when it's needed." Casting a quick look to the hound, who now sat alone and at a few yards away from the group, merely watching with curiosity, Crowley chuckled lowly. "He kept watch over Rhiannon when she was but a child; he'll not hurt them nor you."

I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#7
L E N A
And at full tilt, and in full flight
Defeat darkness, breaking daylight


[Posting with permission from Frostie to heal Arah. ;D]

Romani again, she roamed and roamed, scoured and searched, explored and yearned for icicles and snow, for glaciers and sunlight, and all her eyes touched upon were the traces of darkness and the sullen promises of sanctuary. It carved her into a restless beast again, hoping and contorting through the raptures, the reverie, of sonnets and aspirations, sculpting and molding the wicked doldrums into meticulous, mellifluous chords, varnishing and weaving until they became spoken, hallowed words. The drumbeats of malevolence chased her down the runes of the outerworld, and no matter how many times she wished, craved, longed for the harpsichord rhapsody of the Basin, of its auroras, of all the stars lit by backdrops of fairies and feys, all she saw were caverns, crusades, and the daunting force of chaos brushing back against her. Even her companions, lost and forlorn as she, weren’t traced through the bewitching, eldritch decadence, bleak and abandoned in the tranquil finery, brethren descended into the fathomed depths of the unknown. She worried, mulled, meandered, and traced the inelegant anxieties of the tribulations they could have faced: had they been poisoned too, by the noxious blend of venom surrounding copses and corpses? Had they been ruined and obliterated, scorched and singed by the anarchic trebles and specious gales? Had they dissipated into the throngs of unholy vehemence, exterminated and slaughtered? Or were they down within these walls too (the hardy, shrewd Faelene, the golden Illynx, the nefarious Deimos, the stalwart Deodat, the wise, beautiful Huyana), counting the days, the months, the seasons and years before their return to the summits and peaks? Or were they doomed to rest in the gallows of this rocky labyrinth, restless and forlorn, lost and forged into paintings and tapestries? When would this world cease to be a haven, and suddenly a snare?

A scent billowed into her nares, brought her shimmering tension to a fallen crescendo: Arah. She hadn’t seen the dainty, limber, ivory femme in ages, and to know that she’d found safe quarters, that at least one of them had not been swindled upon the bestial dais of damnation, enlightened the fabric of her movements. She followed in a dancing sway, Imogen in tandem, effortless and lithe, minuet in harbored aims. As she grew closer, the press of other scents flowed along her frame, one of their Weaver (another found guarded, protected and shielded from the fray), and then two unknown breaths of air. Expectations were not diminished, but upon reaching the state of the gathering, only surprise kindled across her features.

Children. Like a puff of gentle, flowing, ethereal quandaries, twins nestled in porcelain and gold, marked and courted in beautiful, intriguing patterns, splashes of Arah, and undoubtedly, the father. A brief smile brewed along her face, a suggestive wink towards Crowley, for at least, she presumed the antlered woman had found beloved whims and fancies in the crafter (and if not, at least he safeguarded like a brindled knight), and then the coiling of her reverie bubbled from the lull of her tunes. “Congratulations!” Tenderly, slowly, a gradual step, a petal soft waltz, courted the draw of her frame towards the babes and the mother. “They are beautiful.” A generous smile swept across her lips, etched deeply into the ebullient might of her singsong chords. Imogen paraded ever nearer, sniffing the length of their gangly limbs, chirping in delight at their juvenile sways and stature. Ever stalwart and observant, Lena breathed and eased the sweet croons, the delicate murmurs, of assuaging, of mending, of healing, from the burdens of her heart; instant, lean, strong and whimsical, like the chorus of sanguine seraphs and compassionate nymphs, gliding towards the twins and their wonderful dam. Be safe, be strong, be swift.





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