She blinked, and it was a new day.

Or it was a new place, or something - she wasn't quite sure where she was, or how she had come to be there, or how long she had been gone. One moment, she had been patrolling the edges of the Dragon's Throat, and now... now she was here. Wherever here was.

She felt woozy, as though she had been away from the oasis for too long and hadn't been able to stay properly hydrated. Her head spun, but not really - she could see clearly, but her mind was dizzy, and it was something new that she hadn't ever really experienced before. The heat was heavy and wet, pressing down on her where she leaned against a tree in the middle of a forest that she had never seen before. Vines strung themselves from branch to branch above, hanging down into the remarkably open forest floor. She didn't recognize the plants, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized this as strange.

Astraeus was curled into a ball on her withers, tangled in his bonded's twisted locks. He felt little better than did the pegasus and thus elected to merely tuck his head beneath his wing and cling tighter to the mare's mane with his talons.

She found herself panting and realized that she needed to go somewhere. Simply standing around, waiting for someone to come along and direct her to the nearest landmark, was not going to be particularly effective. Her gaze flickered to the thick treetops, and she wondered how the fluttering birds above could even breathe in the damp heat that permeated her surroundings.

Okay, time to move.

She heaved herself away from the tree and stumbled forward unceremoniously, as though she had forgotten how to walk. (Why was she so weak?) But she dragged herself onward all the same, pressing through the tree trunks and bushes and vines until she came upon a sort of clearing. On the other side, a mountain climbed into the sky, and she took a moment to trace its lines upward, tilting her head to get a look at its peak and sighing in awe at its magnificence. But she did not linger, for in the middle of the clearing was water, and gods did she need to drink.

She waded into the shallow pool, greedily immersing her muzzle and sucking up liquid. A small part of her mind recognized that she should not drink so quickly, for she hadn't a clue how long she had been dehydrated; and so she forced herself to pause, licking her lips and watching the ripples longingly. Behind her, Astraeus had lowered himself into the shallows and was preening, flicking water this way and that as he cleaned the dust from his feathers. With a smile, she quickly did the same, splashing and shaking until her coat was pristine again. She took one last drink before pulling herself from the pond.

The mare settled down to graze, Astraeus perched upon her neck, running his beak through her mane to detangle it. When she had her strength back, she would take to the skies and figure out exactly where she was. For now, however, she intended to simply enjoy the beauty of the forest (even if it was far too humid for her liking).

"Talk talk talk."
Astraeus.

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Ivezho

"Mai."

The word was breathed through lips that couldn't quite grasp what the eyes were seeing. They were stolen by the wind, spoken to no-one, for he was flying overheard, wings spread wide, drinking the warmth, revelling in the southern climes, while the rest of Helovia faced snowstorms and bitter, cold nights.

How long ago was it since he had seen her? Held her?

He had been shorter than her then, with wings just growing used to flight. It had been a meeting, a gathering - they had just returned to the herd, from the trip where he had followed her, helpless and young, unable to refuse. They had left his brother behind, his father, his family, all except her. And when they had returned, he had been so filled with shame and remorse, that he hadn't been able to face his brother, his herd, for long - he was a stranger in his own home, and so he had left them again, to try and find himself. It had worked - but surely, if she had just let him be, had let him grow there properly and find himself there, he never would have left…

He almost wished he didn't love her now, for surely he wouldn't approach her.

Was it her fault? Or his own? Had she injected him with an incurable wanderlust, an urge to explore that could only be cured by doing just that, over and over, until one became so lost, so estranged, that there was nothing left for him at the place he longed to call "home"? Why had he wandered - had it been to find himself, or to find her?

He had found her now, so why was he so reluctant to approach her, to face her, to press her for answers, to cry and tell her how much he loved her, missed her, wanted her to come home?

He landed, at the edge of the patch of loam she had chosen to drop her head and graze at. Viridian eyes trawled the surroundings, checking for any threats, any reason or cause for her to be here - any cause for her to have disappeared in the first place. So much had happened - he had more siblings now, countless, and none of them had her as a mother. He had grown too - more and more into the shadow of his father, though his frame was lighter in hue and posture thanks to the genetics her thin, fine stature donated. He looked to her then, directly, facing her, unsure of what to do, what to say.

"Mai," he said again, simply, softly. Mother, his eyes begged, where have you been?

The mare probably ought to have been more concerned about her unfamiliar surroundings and the question of how she had come to be there in the first place, but she was oddly calm, pulling blades of emerald grass from the ground and tasting their juice on her tongue, feeling the sun's warmth on her back and the caress of a gentle breeze on her face.  She didn't know that in other parts of Helovia, the winter snows had set in; here, in the tropical oasis that had so entranced her, it was always summer.

There was no rush to get home; after all, she had been training (or, rather, trying to) and she was reasonably certain that she could take care of herself.  With Astraeus by her side, she felt no fear.  Besides, she was certain that Gaucho would be as intrigued by this new land as she was; he would be so proud that the jalan atthirari anni had gone on patrol and returned unharmed.  She was certain of it.

She could feel her strength beginning to return.  The mare could not have been away from food and water for a remarkably long time if she was recovering so quickly now, and this soothed any lingering doubts.  She would merely finish her snack, take another quick drink, and then she would be on her way --

"Mai."

Astraeus took flight, crowing his own greeting as he circled the young stallion gracefully, happy sparks flickering toward the boy's hide.  The mare's head raised, too quickly, and turned to face the form of her son - although he hardly looked like the spindly-legged colt that she had last seen.  The zephyr returned to his bonded's withers, where he perched and continued to preen.

Waves of guilt and anguish threatened to crush her soul, a soul that was buoyed only by the strength of the love and joy that flooded her heart at the sight of Ivezho.  "Ma shekhikhi," she whispered fondly, smiling, but he wasn't her 'little light' anymore, was he?  The thought filled her with sadness and longing for the days she had missed.

But when had he grown so?  He dwarfed her, towering over her in a way that was reminiscent to his sire's frame.  But Ivezho held only a fraction of his father's fire - no, that wasn't right.  He might not had been as flamboyant as Gaucho, but he had his own flames.  What day was it?  How much time had passed?  A niggling doubt tickled at the back of her mind, the beginning of a growing panic - but it did not take her just yet, not when her mothering instincts shoved her own hurt aside in favor of his.  "Yer hajolot, Ivezho."  And I wasn't here.

"Talk talk talk."
Astraeus.

Translations ::
jalan atthirari anni | moon of his life
ma shekhikhi | my little light
yer hajolot | you have grown strong

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Ivezho

The zephyr greeted him warmly, but he could not, would not allow the joy to be stirred within him. Just recently, he had found some purpose, some motivation, some reason - and then he found her, and it all disappeared, it vanished, evaporated. He felt nothing more than a foal in front of her again, weak, small - he wondered, if she made to leave again, would he follow her again? Would he turn away from his home, from the friendships he had made, the familial ties he had worked on reforming, just to follow her again, to hold her and love and protect her?

He was scared, when he couldn't honestly answer that question.

She looked at him then, with her love and - what was it? - fear? Doubt? Realisation of all that she had missed? She called him by his nest-name, little light, and he wished his heart wouldn't soar at the words, the familiarity, the overwhelming urge to approach her and scoop her up in his wings.

He walked towards her - he couldn't not - and reached out with muzzle and maw, searching to touch and explore that which they had all missed so these recent months. "Mai," he said again, swallowing the tears that threatened to brim his emerald pools, angry and confused and relieved all at the same time, wanting to shout at her, cry at her and celebrate her existence simultaneously.

"Yer hash som," you were gone, he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. He wanted to fold up in her embrace, to hide his teary, bleary eyes in her pale mane, but he couldn't, (- but he knew he would if she stepped towards him, if she sought the embrace, he would not be able to deny her -).

"Sanekhi dinat," much time has passed, he murmured, lowering his head, unable to hide the grief he felt, the torment, the relief and the love.

"I missed you," he slipped into the common tongue, unable to hold the words back, tired of the dothraki, tired of it all - he wanted his mother, and he was ashamed of the fact that he hated himself for it, that despite it all, he was a stallion grown, wanting nothing more than his mother's embrace.

I'm so sorry, she might have said.

I have failed you, she could have cried.

But neither of those things fell from her ivory lips. She could see the pain welling up in his eyes, pain that she had caused him. She could feel the rough edges of his sorrow, threatening to widen the distance between them even as he approached. And she knew that she had been the source of much pain in his life, knew that she had led him astray, that he had only begun to recover after returning to the Dragon's Throat (hadn't he?) but then... then... she couldn't remember, and now he was grown, and how much time had passed?

"Ivezho," she whispered, reaching out to him, to touch her nose to his, to pull him into her embrace, if he would allow it. "Oh, darling," she crooned in the common tongue, searching for and failing to find the proper words in the other. "Darling, I never left you on purpose." It was the truth, though it tasted tart on her tongue. Perhaps she wondered if it would do any good, the truth, or if she had hurt him too deeply, too many times. She knew that she had failed him, knew that it had been so much for him to bear.

And it wasn't just him, was it? It was his siblings, and his father, and their herd. It was everyone that she had cared about, everyone that had offered her love and comfort. She had failed them all, time and again.

And this time, she hadn't even known it.

"Ivezho... what season is it?" she asked, ashamed that she had to ask and afraid to know the answer. How long had she been gone, only to reappear now in this tropical forest, a place that could easily mask the reality of the world outside. It could be the middle of winter, for all she knew, and the realization brought tears to her eyes. How much time had she missed, how many miles had she travelled, and above all, why? Why was she so inadequate at loving, at mothering, at simply being present?

"I'm so sorry," she cried then, choking back a sob, holding onto the thin shred of hope that he would need her, even now, and that it would be enough to give her the strength to move forward.

"Talk talk talk."
Astraeus.

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Ivezho

I never left you on purpose - had he heard those words before? Or had he been the one to say them before? Had they been excuse, his reason, given to his brother, his sister, his friends, when his mother had taken him away from everything he knew?

He realised now how it must've sounded to them, how inadequate it tasted, how it left a bitter, sour aftertaste, how dissatisfied he was with it, how it just wasn't enough - but then, it left him feeling helpless, hopeless too, because she couldn't help it and neither could he.

A great wave of guilt rolled through him for his selfish thoughts, his dissatisfaction - if she couldn't help, and nor could he (or his father), how could he blame her? How could he want to throw abuse at her, deny her the affection his heart longed to give her, over something entirely out of any of their controls?

He couldn't, and so, he didn't.

Ivezho leaned into her embrace, losing himself amongst her pale locks before moving so that his strong nape curled over hers, his broad wings folding around her own petite form. She was never so small, he thought softly, or else I was just smaller at the time.

She asked him the season, the time - how much time had passed? Ivezho thinks, before holding her tightly to his chest as she broke down into the sadness that shook her body, trying to wrack his own mind at when the last time was that he saw her, held her - and it scared him to realise the truth of it.

"It is Frostfall," he said quietly, his voice hushed - the truth he spoke was a harsh one, better for him to whisper it than shout. "It's been at least.. Two years. Two years, mother." He was almost pleading with her, begging her to understand the hurt he felt at having to be the one to tell her this - how was it fair for the son to tell the mother the full extent her absence had affected him, their family?

"I have.. many more siblings," and none of them with you for their mother. Quieter still, he spoke again, fearing that she would pull away from him at them, not stopping her if she did. The Wildfire had hardly been monogamous when was here, her absence only fuelled the ascended one's desire to spread his seed - and yet, despite the distaste Ivezho had held for Gaucho's nature before, he almost wanted to defend it here, now - he almost thought he could understand it.

But that didn't make his job of messenger boy any easier.

She leaned into him as he leaned into her, taking comfort in his forgiveness, his love.  A single tear leaked from her eye, but she forced her sobs away - she must be strong now, strong for the son that she left behind.  It tore at her, ripping her shattered soul into ever more tattered shreds; the guilt and the anguish threatened to overpower her, to swallow her and drag her down into darkness and pain.  She held on to Ivezho's light, more tightly by the minute, as though he was the only one who could save her.

Perhaps he was, now.

And then her world fell away.

Frostfall?  But it had been Frostfall when she last left, when she went on patrol to the western reaches of the Dragon's Throat.  Perhaps it wasn't that bad, perhaps she had been gone for mere weeks (she knew it was worse than that from his reception, but she still longed for the lie that she told herself).  Whatever her wishes, hopes, dreams in that moment - she never expected him to say two years.

"No," she gasped, pulling away in surprise.  "It - it can't be."  She can't have been gone for so long, can't have fallen through the cracks for that long, can't - can't --

"Hawke and Aelin were just born," she protested further.  "I can't - I missed - oh -"  The world was falling to pieces around her as she fell apart within.  What was she going to do?  She had disappeared for too long to go back now - no, she could not hurt them all further.  Better, wasn't it, to believe her dead?  No, no, no, no, no --

Oh, but there was more.

Much more.

More... siblings.  But - how - I wasn't - they aren't -

Oh.

They weren't hers.  But they were his.

Oh.

She couldn't go back.  There was no way that she could return to face him and her, whoever she was.  She could not face her mate's other family, but, more than that, she could not bring herself to face Gaucho.  She could not make his life more difficult.  Not again.  "Oh, ma shekhikhi," she breathed, pain evident in the way she spoke, in the sudden slump of her shoulders.  "I have failed you, my love.  I am so sorry.  I never - I never meant -"  But it didn't matter.  It couldn't.  The hurt was too deep.

He couldn't forgive her.  She didn't expect him to.  "I remember patrolling the edges of the Throat," she told him anyway, owing him something, anything - she owed him an explanation that would never be enough, would never replace the time that she stole from him.  "And then... now I'm... here.  Wherever here is."

"Talk talk talk."
--Astraeus.--

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