the Rift


[PRIVATE] clear nights

Cirrus Posts: 233
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
Whit
#1
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.


eagle-cry-designs | larfsalot
on deviantart
as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • 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:


    Kirottu Posts: 40
    Outcast atk: 3.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 7
    Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 9 HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
    Youmna :: Royal Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Lamplight Whit
    #2
    Kirottu
    the cursed one
    If I was an honest cerndyr, which I am, I wasn't sure how my bondmate pulled it off. I wasn't sure how he had convinced the curious cloudmare to linger long enough to see his curse lift in the moonlight, how he had managed to prove himself to her in a spar, how he had managed to win her affections.

    I certainly believed I helped matters. I was charming, handsome and strong, and I wasn’t afflicted with a curse that ruined my body whenever the sun rose. I befriended the cloudmare as well, and I too had grown quite fond of her - though I had conveniently made myself scarce when their evenings turned to spars and other things.

    Kiro was a changed stallion. While he changed every time the sun rose and set, this was different. This change was far deeper than the superficial afflictions his curse laid upon him night and day. This was far deeper, and far more profound.

    I want to believe that he has finally beaten his curse.

    Through the bond, it didn't seem to hurt as much. I could barely feel the echoes of the aches and pains his body would endure during the day, for now all I felt was contentedness, happiness, adoration for the mare who though she travelled upon her magnificent wings and wandered with her strong legs, always returned to our side.

    They seemed to communicate in varying degrees of insults, at least she seemed to call him dickhead and he would smile and tug at her mane and then they would both laugh and carry on as if this was normal. It was all new to me, and to him, but he seemed to accept it as his norm, so I did too.

    So when the mare came at him with anger, rage and defiance upon her brow, I was the most surprised when he somehow bore all of it and managed to convince her to accept it too - and then I conveniently became sparse again as things got a bit heated.

    It wasn't long before, with her ever-expanding sides, the time came. Even though I was not bonded to her, I could see the pain rippling through her body, see the way it caused her to tremble and waver, even as she spat out a last insult to my bondmate. He reached out to her, knowing it was her way of seeking solace and comfort, and she pressed in him - they steadied each other, until she had to lay down, until nature had to take over and deliver the creation(s) they had carved together.

    I was a sentinel, a guard, a protector as Kiro stood closer, ensuring his mate and his children all survived this experience. I was as surprised as he was to see that it was twins who were born, strong and beautiful, immediately earning a place in both his and my hearts.

    I watched as Cirrus rose soon after, as she looked from colt to filly to stallion. I watched her expression harden, as fear seemed to flash through her, and I tugged at my bondmate's mind to alert him of this fact.

    He didn't question my tug like he might have previously, but instead turned to her immediately, with concern written all across his face, with adoration and something as close to love as he'll ever get behind his eyes.

    "Cirrus?" I hear him ask, as he strode to her still-wobbly side and lean against her, ensuring she had the support she needed. And while she accepted the touch for a time, she also pulled away too quickly, putting distance between them, before turning to look at him with her sharp cerulean gaze.

    "What's wrong?" he asked, desperation and worry colouring his tones, and I moved closer too, satisfied that the surroundings were safe enough, focussing my attention instead on the mare who glittered with the starlight of the clear night sky above and her shivering, scared posture.

    "Will you stay?" came her croaked reply, her hushed question, and I was as confused as Kiro at first, until she asked again: "When the sun rises again; Will you stay?"

    Understanding bloomed, and I felt relief wash through Kiro as he bounded forward to close the distance between them, embracing her feathered withers in a tight hug, willing his strength to never let her go.

    "I'm not going anywhere, not without you, and our children," he said, pulling back to tug at her mane with his lips and blow a kiss upon her cheek, knowing it to be something she claimed to 'hate' and hoping it would help to reassure her, to reaffirm to her that he was here, and would continue to be here, curses be damned.

    .
    floweringfatality | whimzi
    on deviantart

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #3
    Cirrus the WindDancer
    "Will you stay?" the cloudmare had asked, too softly at first, too scared to hear what the answer might be. "When the sun rises again; Will you stay?" she tried again, unable to take it back now, unable to deny her fear, her paranoia, that he might dissolve with the sunlight, might hide for fear of rejection or shame or whatever else it was that stupid curse did to him.

    It was a mere handful of moments, but the tension almost ruined Cirrus, as she stood decidedly alone, trembling, a figure of fear and flight, almost ready to leave this scene herself should she believe that he would have abandoned them.

    But then he was by her side, his warmth pressing against her, his heartbeat pounding alongside her own chest, his breath hot and passionate as it confirmed that he was going to be here, with her, with them, with their…

    Children.

    She could have so easily gotten lost amidst his masculinity again, so easily forgotten about the children they had created, she snapped her teeth at him playfully as he tugged at her mane, willing him not to distract her further from this, their children, their perfect and beautiful children.

    Evidently satisfied that he would remain by her side as they went through this journey, she allowed her attention to return to the two foals who were bleating for attention and warmth, shifting and making motions as if to try and stand already.

    "I'm here," she said softly as she bent to each in turn, licking them dry and nudging them to help them rise. Your mother is here, she thought, curiously testing the title in her own mind, still a bit daunted by it and all that it meant.

    Mother, she mused again, slowly coming to terms with it, as she threw a glance at Kiro, as he helped his son rise from the sandy earth. He's the father to my children, she thought, and couldn't help the gentle laugh that tumbled from her lips; she was simply overjoyed.

    "Oh!" she exclaimed, as she realised something. Kiro looked at her, surprise causing a rigidity to enter his posture as confusion clouded his features. "What will we call them? What will their names be?"


    eagle-cry-designs | larfsalot
    on deviantart

    Kirottu Posts: 40
    Outcast atk: 3.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 7
    Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 9 HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
    Youmna :: Royal Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Lamplight Whit
    #4
    Kirottu
    the cursed one
    You'd think we be used to the cloudmare making surprised exclamations over the most trivial and odd things, but in this moment, we both reacted. I had resumed my stance slightly apart from them, there was no need for my presence so close. I was enjoyed my vantage point, my observation of the perfect little new family being born, taking their first steps, breathing their first breaths, watching as the new parents revelled in each other and their newest gems of creation.

    But when the cloudmare exclaimed a very loud Oh!, we both started, jumping, wincing, worried that yet another dilemma was about to come to light, another drama was about to steal her away from us, another danger about to swallow us all up.

    It was none of those things, fortunately, it was instead a question of what to name them.

    Kiro laughed with relief, shaking his head at the mare and murmured "You almost gave me a heart attack," before turning his attention back to the colt and filly who struggled to rise from their sandy beds upon this dune of the Endless Blue.

    "Eira is a name for snow - perhaps our little snow-touched girl here might suit?" he asked, never presuming to be the one to name them alone, knowing (hoping) that it would be Cirrus' and his decisions together. The filly, with her bird-catcher spots and pristine mane and tail, certainly seemed to fit the name.

    And then to the boy he looked, with his pelt that changed in ways not dissimilar to his mother's, and he smiled fondly.

    "My aunt used to tell me of a story about an old god who ruled the wind and seas, who brought tempests and storms with him, who could hum raindrops from the air - Indra was his title."

    And he looked between the foals and to his lover, to Cirrus, with a hopeful glint to his eye, a smile touching his lips, as she nodded happily and repeated the names in her own tongue. I murmured my own approval, and both Cirrus and Kiro laughed joyously, as we all celebrated the new life that would exist from this day on.

    @Eira <33

    .
    floweringfatality | whimzi
    on deviantart

    Indra Posts: 4
    Outcast
    Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: Newborn
    Whit
    #5
    Warmth. Darkness. Sister.

    This is all the colt knows since his mind sparked to life within the womb of his mother. This is all the colt knows, until a great pressure pressed down upon him, until that warmth was wretched away, and his sister too, and the darkness was replaced by a new kind of darkness.
    The night-time air was still far brighter than that he had grown used to, with its twinkling stars and breezy winds. All wet feathers and fur, the colt kicked his legs as soon as the pressure was lifted, and found them pounding against the sandy basin of his birthplace. He bleated, most offendedly, for his entire world had just been shifted, and by whose hand, whose whim? Certainly not his own, nor that of his sister's.

    His sister. Blinking, the colt finally observed the world through his slate-grey eyes, peering around at the tall figures who embraced above them, blinking back the gunk that still dripped down his face. A small stub of a horn hinted upon his forehead, and awkward, downy covered wings protruded from his shoulderblades, and a long leonine tail stretched out behind him - he became aware of all of these things at once, which is probably why he could not co-ordinate any one of them in any kind of useful way.

    He flailed and somehow he was suddenly sitting up, his long legs out in front of him, his 'wings' splayed to the side, his back legs folded up somewhere beneath him. He leaned into the nudges his mother and father gave him, and then - he was up!

    For all of two seconds, anyway.

    Fortunately, the sand beneath was soft enough that he tumble back to the ground resulted in nothing more than his newborn pride being scorned. A frown furrowed his unlined brow as frustration and concentration warred to dominate his features, and then the silvery roan boy rocked and rose once more.

    He was steadier this time, his legs all seemed to be where they were meant to be (beneath him), his wings tilted and helped to balance him, while his tail swing idly behind him. Gunmetal grey eyes looked to his sister, to the one who had shared that space with him, and he allowed nothing else to steal his attention away, as she went through the same struggles as he.

    I N D R A

    sxc.hu
    larfsalot on deviantart

    Eira Posts: 4
    Outcast
    Filly :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: Newborn
    Riven
    #6


    Eira
    A boundless quantity of time has been spent in this watery world of warmth and weightlessness. Ears have  been let to grow content, complacent, trusting the steady, companionable murmur of beating hearts, comfortable amid a vocal community of pulsing organs and whispering currents. Loneliness is a feeling yet to blemish her innocent, pristine mind, for within this busy neighbourhood has always stirred another, bigger and bolder than the rest (than she!); blunter points and spongey rims once mutually tried the flimsy film between, but now the dark sanctuary together shared, has grown too tight for play.

    The cushy waterbed has grown restless, agitated, quickening like bound elastic against her soft, saturated skin and gentle argy-bargy games have given way to feeble quests for contact and reassurance; gangly, bony limbs press close towards his tangible presence and tiny soggy lips seek to bury into the unwavering certainty of their bond. The world is shrinking slowly, gradually, and the echo of heartbeats grows hasty, loud, all around.

    Pillowy walls constrict again suddenly, clench, faster. The babe resists, forcing slim shoulders back as the neck dares to crane the opposite way, yet she tires too quickly (faster than her foe), and as her strengthless bones slump into retirement, the walls cave still further. The darkness around her shudders and convulses - almost violently - and anticipation flinches through the new, pristine cavity of her mind. What is happening? After a time lying still, unable to sleep - riding the slow, coursing tension - she stirs, flounders, for her position has become terribly uncomfortable. They are forced harshly together, and reciprocal thrusts bruise delicate tissue. The bed has grown deeper, narrower, unfriendly.

    Another sharp jolt flings the babe suddenly from rest, her watery nest twists unmercifully, unbearably around her and lungs suck, startled, gulping a mouthful of sweet, reassuring amniotic nectar. It is a brief lull however…

    That fluid is retreating swiftly and her refuge has become still tighter than a glove; it drives her frail form from behind, head first with force and determination that she cannot hope to match. Wriggling in vain, ignorant to the event unfolding - the whole new dimension waiting on the far side of her twin - she jostles and slithers along into a horribly taut tunnel. Suddenly he vanishes… she is fighting alone.

    The living walls rub constantly at her skin, coaxing and controlling her movement; this journey she unwittingly, involuntarily, has embarked on. Thin legs aim to thrash, but there is no longer room but for the forward motion wrestle of uterine contractions. She bides her time, gathering strength both physically and mentally; then - with every inch of her being, ignited with shocking adrenaline - the foal unleashes a flailing counterattack, twisting, writhing and struggling, desperate to be free.  

    Everything around her falls quiet, motionless, and she nearly slips between those ravenous jaws of fatigue.

    The last hurrah hits with unimaginable force.

    Huge pressure bursts from behind and forelegs clear that bump in the road like free-gliding serpents. The head - lips, nostrils and fastened eyes - follow in rapid succession, then a limp neck, shoulders, and the putrid puddle of framework to conclude. She falls earth-side with a thud, crumpling into the cold palm of land, and gasps loudly stunned and overwhelmed as sensory overload engulfs.

    Soggy lashes flare but for a second, closing again in an instant to deter that blinding exaggeration of illuminated night; in a stupor, face rises to wave about, helplessly vulnerable in the icy gale, which is such a contrast to home. A frightened cry slips by those peeling lips, and bloody, wet feathers shiver, fumble outwards until they lie sprawled - unfolded - to either side of her nestled shape.

    There is radiating warmth alongside, and her strengthless form slouches towards it; to him.

    Moments pass before again those icy eyes flash, fixing upon the hazy impression of her precariously perched sibling. Inspired in turn by his courage, she too thrashes, flounders and struggles in the sand; but alas, gravity’s cruel hand is unrelenting. Instinct is an impulse hardly ignored. Grey flints once again strike forward while heavy feathers drag and flap uselessly amid sprays of golden powder. The tender note of familiar voices clouds all forming fear, and for a brief second, she finds clarity of thought enough to coordinate fresh effort.

    Legs splay, wobbling and trembling, as weight hangs like lead above them, but bulbous knees are strong and unbending now despite the surging fatigue. Already her twin was standing and though each scrawny limb seemed reluctant to budge, her soft quivering nose sought his familiar taste in the air. Soundlessly her damp face moved through the chill to find him.

    @Cirrus


    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #7
    Cirrus the WindDancer
    The cloud mare watched in fascination as her foals (the notion was still so new, so thrilling) found their feet, as they tested and experimented, and she couldn't help the little laugh under her breath at their foiled attempts. As she and Kiro bent to help them in turn with a gently present, sturdy muzzle or leg to lean upon, she wondered what it was like, to see the world anew, to experience everything for the first time. Cirrus, like almost all others, could not remember those first few minutes, or even months, and it was enthralling to watch her son and daughter do it all now before her, breathe it all in, blearily search for each other.

    The cloudmare could not contain the joy she felt, as she watched them, and with them standing independently now (albeit shakily, but standing all the same), she leaned into Kiro's strong embrace once more, revelling in it all.

    How did we get here? she asked to the bond that was empty, forgetting that there was no hellhound on the other end to reply, no Sitka to provide her with a witty remark, to balance her chaotic inner monologue. She hadn't made such a careless attempt to reach for him in years, and it hurt, it stung, but she clenched her jaw and focussed on her children, on the strong silvery stallion beside her, on the cerndyr who had become almost as much her companion as Kiro's (though he would never be Sitka).

    "Eira," she said warmly, to distract herself, "Indra," she intoned, nickering with affection and gentle summons. In the aftermath of giving birth, of enjoying the sight of her children rise and live and demonstrate their newborn strength, she realised that parts of her ached where they had never done so before - her mammary glands, her 'milkbar' as it were, was full to the point of dripping, ready for suckling lips to taste the sweet milky liquid inside.

    She positioned herself as close to them as possible, stretching herself out to enable them to both suckle with ease, encouraging them with gentle nudges and nickers.

    eagle-cry-designs | larfsalot
    on deviantart
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • 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:


    Indra Posts: 4
    Outcast
    Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: Newborn
    Whit
    #8
    He shivered, almost enough to make him fall over again, but somehow he lifted a foot and replaced it upon the sandy ground without completely toppling, and in fact, by some miracle, improving his balance.

    Maybe he would get the hang of this whole standing and walking thing after all.

    He focussed upon his sister, taking those same trembling, shaky yet determined steps towards her, reaching out to her pale maw to press his own silver-streaked maw against it (he still hadn't completely dried). He knew her, her smell, her taste, the shape of her body, and now by the muted light of the moon and stars, he knew the sight of her face and body too. She would be his first love, his first friendship, though he wouldn't know this until he was much older, and wiser, thinking back on times when nothing was more important to him than his sister and her existence.

    He bleated a low note, for it was all he was capable of, defiant and as loud as he could make it, objecting to the cold, to the air, to the way the ground beneath them didn't seem to stop swaying for more than a few moments (or was it that his legs simply weren't used to holding him up for much longer than that yet?).

    At his mother's insistence, however, he soon moved closer to her, ensuring his sister came with, not caring if when she leaned against him he ended up on the ground again - that was an acceptable reason to fall, he somehow knew on some deep, sibling level.

    Their short stature meant they could both fit beneath their mother's barrel, standing side by side if they wished (not separated by her form as they would be in the coming days and weeks as they grew and grew taller and stronger). Instinct pushed his mouth to make suckling motions, his tongue flitting out over his lips as he whickered lowly, his nose sensing the nearness of the food, his eyes not quite understanding what to look for but following the trail of liquid that dripped down his mother's hind legs to the soft gland that seemed to fit perfectly in his waiting maw. He drank deeply and without pausing for breath for quite a few moments, until he remembered that he had a sister, and that she would need this too - he was too consumed by his own hunger, his own need, to notice whether she had joined him at the same time.

    With a short, downy wingtip, he flapped at her, encouraging her to feast on this treat, to join him, to grow strong like he most assuredly would, together - always and forever.

    @Eira - Skipping Kiro because he is a boring snot
    I N D R A

    sxc.hu
    larfsalot on deviantart

    Eira Posts: 4
    Outcast
    Filly :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: Newborn
    Riven
    #9


    Eira
    Puffing, steaming breath welcomes forward the damp, velvet pillow of her brother’s streaked muzzle, and yolky ears tilt nearer, they waver with indecision, growingly enamoured by the myriad of sounds turning about her; above the murmur of maternal presence, and much harsher still than the whimpering note of his small, newborn voice, ocean waves toss and crash thunderously upon the soft cool sand nearby. Staggering steps, jolty and crude, pull the darkening colt’s warmth from her side.

    Eira sways in the biting air, vulnerable and weak, with her tiny dimpled chin prying about for notice; in the base of her throat bubbles noise, pitiful and innocent, begging for that intimacy to return.

    He returns, if only his voice in that moment, beckoning and willing her nearer to the murky figure of the mare who’s seemingly endless impression stood girt by star-shine. Widening eyes follow wonderingly the gentle curve of that line until they stoop low enough again, to snatch a glimpse of his familiar figure fumbling forward. Like a lamb, needy and helpless she cries, purging remnant fluid in the same effort, and teetering, she launches two feet forward with unbalanced wings spread to follow the path of his hungry lips in. Sliding by his source, the filly finds another just beyond and latches hastily, greedily - instantly gratified as honey-sweet colostrum, spills amply down her throat.

    To the rear, a long, lean tail flicks, and pasty feathers draw near to resume their embrace around lean blue flanks.

    A sound length of time passes before the filly pulls free. Her belly, now swollen, begs for rest (for a brace) and each leg eagerly answers; they fold down, front then back, and she falls with a weary, drunken thud upon the cushion of dry sand. The first hour of life has been unbearably exhausting, and swiftly her feeble young mind falls into the black tranquillity of restful coma.

    @Cirrus - I wasn't sure if I would get a chance to throw up another post before the rift!



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