"One Day, I Shall Live By the Code of Honor."
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Laila was surely going to burst. She watched her mother’s agony shift across that alabaster face—watched as her mother felt pain at the sight of her own tears. The sight caused that dull, misplaced pain within Laila’s gut to twist and cut the hole even wider and deeper. I hate this, she was screaming in her mind, I hate it, I hate it! Why is this happening? Why does it need to happen? So much pain being exchanged, passed from mother to daughter—and it really didn’t need to happen at all. The hot tears continued to fall at an ever steady rate; the ebony cheeks were soaked, and a violent sob wracked her body. Laila took a deep breath, letting the cool air suffuse her lungs and try to sooth the heat of her passions. She needed to calm down. I need to keep a level head. There was nothing to gain with spontaneous combustion—and Laila very much felt as though she might catch on fire at any moment.
*“Do you have a name darling?”*
Startled out of her reverie, Laila’s head snapped up to look at her colossal Weyrleader.
*“I should hope to see those shining eyes free of tears; you are amongst family who will stand beside you without question here. Perhaps I can even introduce you to my own daughter if it is ever of interest to you.”*
Laila felt another sob threaten to emerge from her chest—but she suppressed it, sucking heaping breaths of air in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. As she craned her neck to look into the warm eyes of the Gentle heart, some soft comfort settled on Laila’s back like snowflakes. She was suddenly reminded of her father—so large, strong, and ever noble in his love for his offspring—and even of Tor, back in the day when Laila looked up at the alabaster mare while the latter told stories of wolves and unicorns. It was a calming sort of tonic—and inspiring too, as it allowed Laila to achieve her endeavor to calm her aching heart. With a final, shaky breath, the dam in her heart was restored and her eyes started to dry. At this moment, Laila suddenly realized the meaning of her choice to become Protector of the herd—and the depth of her passion for it.
But the Weyrleader was talking again, though this time these words for her own mother. Laila listened, saddened by the biting, overly formal phrases they spoke to each other with. It was another twist of the dagger-pain, but now Laila had a hold on such emotions.
*“…You are welcome here Tor because I feel that you can change, but you will not receive my blessing to move forward until you have seen to it that your own daughter trusts you. The tiers hold no importance to your gain if you cannot successfully prove yourself to your own family…”*
A great weight abruptly settled itself on Laila’s small shoulders. You will not receive my blessing to move forward until you have seen to it that your own daughter trusts you. Very suddenly, Laila found herself in control of her mother’s fate. She could refuse forgives in her heart, as suspicious as she was, and ultimately doom her own mother an outcast….if she so wanted. Yet after so much turmoil within her heart and confusion regarding her mother’s verdict in her mind—at this moment, the ebony filly suddenly knew what to do.
“Mother, I don’t hate you,” she said suddenly—and for once Laila’s voice was a small thing, yet no less impassioned because of it. “I don’t want you to leave. I love you so much—and I just want you home. That’s all. I just want you home.” Tears threatened somewhere deep in Laila’s throat, but she conquered them before they even had a chance to rise. Laila was master of herself. Instead of letting those weak things betray her, Laila steeled herself—and took a step towards her mother. “I’m just scared you’ll leave again. You left—and didn’t tell us why. If you choose to abandon me and Lu-Lu and daddy again, it won’t be nearly as painful as not hearing a word from you again.” Laila paused, looking at her mother with bloodshot, chocolate eyes. “Just tell us if you want to leave. Just…tell us. And…maybe I can come with you? Maybe…I could protect you, too? Would you give me that chance?” She gave a weak, watery smile to her mother—and took another step toward her.
*“You must remember that you are welcome to call upon Essetia or myself whenever the need is present. We are also part of your family and I would hope that you would acknowledge us as such.”*
Laila paused in her venture towards her mother, looking up into the Gentleheart’s eyes with warm gratitude, “Thank you, sir,” she said, some of her usual bubbliness coloring her tear-soaked voice, “I really do appreciate that. I look forward to meeting Essetia…I would love to make friends.” After flashing her Weyrleader with a sincere grin, she turned towards Tor again, that ivory mare, and took another hesitant step towards her. Hoping, wishing with all her heart that her mother would allow her that small gift of touch.
[OOC: Sorry for the hold-up! :c ]
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