{A S.on for The M.ighty H.ellion}

[FireFlyDragon]

Retsuka
Wearing that Same Mask?


It hadn’t been long until she couldn’t walk anymore. Contractions brought her pain and so she settled for the small clearing, a thin line of spindly trees guarding her bod from sight. Nares widened as she stood, then laid upon the darkened ground. Ripples fluttered over her pelt as another spasm of motherhood washed over, causing her to flinch and snort quietly. Retsuka hadn’t predicted the birth to take place so soon, and so as the pains had first started she had rushed off as fast as her legs could carry her to this place, away from the heart of Tristeza and Art. Birth was a special thing and she needed to be alone, she only hoped that this child would be to her hellion’s liking. His lyrics still echoed in her auds, adding to the already worried mare’s mind as she uneasily rose, pacing back and forth as the shocks became closer together and more severe.

She had assumed the stallion wouldn’t be satisfied with a small or weak foal, though the possibility of the problem being the gender had crossed her mind, she wouldn’t pass that possibility over. The possibility that he would only be satisfied with a son, and kill the young one should it be not what he wanted. But she couldn’t think anymore, her mind to distracted by the ripples still coursing through her. Her crown lifted to the cloudless sky, hide already darkened with sweat. Her pillars seemed to buckle and she slipped to the ground quickly, a fall would be the last thing she needed at this time.

She could feel the heated stalks that her ebony bod lay upon, their stiff poles bent beneath her weight. A husky nicker left her maw, orbs closed as her barrel heaved with the oncoming contraction. Silk lay matted and strewn upon her salted boa, the heat merely increasing as the sun rose higher in the seemingly flawless sky. She braced herself for the strength needed, she wasn’t new to birthing. She had a daughter once, but she had fallen to illness within a few weeks of her short, troubled life. Pillars pushed against the brown tones, pushing as her own mind fought to overcome the pain that radiated in her. Damn, this was worse then her first birth, those few years ago.

[taybay]

listen and wait for

A r t - x
echoes of angels who wont return

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Shank lowered to the troposphere; enamels cropping the long-shafted verdure that swayed like a dense carpet beneath his iron heels. Intestines whining in contentment as the flora settled and echoed a warmth of pleasantness that seemed to echo in his over-worn sinew. Each fiber rung out and loose as the King stood grazing; surveying the surroundings and generally accepting how it was in Tristeza at the moment. It was cool - with a slight breeze that ruffled his slightly wavy tendrils that lain to his bosom in the characteristic way of the wild equines. His ancestors had worn it that way; and their ancestors. Never sheared by human blades; nor thinned with human combs in all eternity. It was comforting knowing that some things would never change. But some things would.

Nasal passages dilated; something was new and it wasn't a newer arrival. Or at least of the sort that the King knew of. No - this wasn't an arrival. It was of birth - and the scent it carried was none other than his precious gem retsuka. Her blood has spilt 'pon the Earth which could only be her body fluids releasing in the rush of birth. Her pregnancy had been smooth - and art was admittedly anxious to see the creature that the two equines had produced. He always had been - no matter how disgusted he would become with the youth in a little manner of time.

Staccato pace started towards the hefty scent of her metallic plasma - birth laced the air along with vulnerability. The most he would do was stand like a sentry beside her and guard against enemies in her most vulnerable hours. Roses flickered on the bonce of the regal being as he pursued his quest onto finding the duchess. His pace never slackening for a void of time that Art found unbelievable - the mare sure had fled in her time of need. The forestry became dense and almost impassable in places; scratches popping along his skin as he skimmed around trunks and bushes and snagging his skin and feathering on the obstacles with a grunt of exasperation and abit slack in his normally tyranting pace. Well, if she wanted seclusion - she sure as hell had found it.

Art could smell the sweat that dripped off her as he approached her diaphragm - lowering his shank as general care echoed in his precise moments. Now was not the time to take over a birthing mare and he coaxed her with labium that danced across her spasming muscles as if to attempt to smooth over the contractions that robbed her petite bod. Attention was adverted to the heaving maiden before being redirected to the surroundings - ever weary of the unnoticeable in the dense forest as he watched the foal slip from her cavity. he broke the sack and marveled that it was a male - he had gotten lucky. Small smile cracking over his normally ruthless mug - the Knight stepped back and left both mother and son to bond as he stood watch over the mother and new arrival.



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music: hear you me - jimmy eat world
muse: very good
notes: none
words: 584
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[FireFlyDragon]

Retsuka
Wearing that Same Mask?



A good deal of time had passed, only the gasping breaths audible in her own auds. Orbs saw nothing but darkness as another spasm rushed through her, this one noticeably larger then the others. Lids plastered over her gaze as her barrel tightened, pushing hard with the motion. She let out a breathless gasp as it ended, only to repeat the process moments later. She couldn’t tell how far along the foal was, only that she was getting weaker with each contraction. Damn. She rolled so her weakened pillars lay beneath her, she was to restless to stay still any longer.

She rolled to her other side, warmed by the rays of the sun and salty sheet that lathered her dappled bod. Orbs opened to small slits. She was hot, sticky, altogether felling terrible. Summer wasn’t a pleasant month to give birth in, that was for sure. Another push, and other rest it was all so repetitive to her. That was, until she heard something. She silently cursed herself, making so much noise at such a venerable time. Her nares widened, crown raised, desperately trying to catch the intruder’s scent, only to suddenly realize that it was none other then Art that stepped out from the brush. A relived sigh left her and her crown lowered back to the hardened ground, exhausted.

But it was far from over, oh no the stress wasn’t done before Art approached her, velvet lips skimming over her twitching hide salted with sweat. A hushed whimper left her as all the feeling suddenly vanished, leaving her breathless as she lay there, Art standing by her side. She fought to roll over, seeing Art near the still enveloped newborn. A sudden bolt of fear ran through her, thinking Art might harm the foal, and she hastily shifted herself nearer to her child, though not before Art’s tearing of the material commenced.

The mare saw what looked like a smile as the hellion backed off and she fretfully ran her silky lips over her child. Her son. My she had to admit he was beautiful, even when still half hidden beneath his sac, what he lived in a grew in for such a long time. Her muzzled traced his small form, nuzzling him from haunch to crown as she took in his scent, his barrel moving with tiny breaths as he began to wake and move about, struggling to overcome the case that still held him prisoner. Gently, oh so gently she pulled the sac from him, his long thin pillars and larger then normal ears suddenly flipping everywhere, seemingly surprised to be free.

Again her maw traced along his bod, warm towel drying him as he lay there, suddenly still beneath her calming strokes. She marveled at his smoky coat, dapples covering him, her gaze drifted to his tiny tuff of silk dark as ebony. And his eyes, they where the richest color of mocha. A smile lit her crown as she breathed by his own small nares, taking in his scent once again. “Hello Calcifer” she whispered, voice as soft as anything, like the wind passing over tall, green stalks in the drowsy summer heat.

[taybay]

listen and wait for

A r t - x
echoes of angels who wont return

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Maybe it was the King that was lucky - but everyone knew that the foal should also be grateful that its sire hadn't killed it on first greeting. The knight even bothered to break the sack and allow the newborn fresh breath as his mother lain exhausted. Sweating and over-ridden with flies; the patriarch swished his banner cross her bodice to held aleviate the deluge of swarming pests. They were driving him insane too. But Art may take advantage of you at any opportunity; but your vulnerability was your own fault. This was their creation and thus forth, none of her burden as it should be his own. So he stood, watching and waiting for when he could come and see the new Prince of Tristeza.

He was dappled alabaster 'pon a hide of silver lacing. Black points were on his coned ears - big as a mules; and his little limbs; longer than his whole body. Damn, was he disproportionate. Although he had good conformation for such a mutted breed - not coming from his side at least. One limb brought itself forth towards the duo; shank lowered in respect to the mother. The knew when Mahnai birthed that she nearly ripped off his head with her incisors and his shaft in between her hormonal moods. He loved her though, with a heart that he didn't know he had. With something he thought didn't exist. For him, it still didn't exist. He had tolerated peace as an individual & loved Bailey like a mate - like a lover and a friend.

Art found it rather amusing that all his children that had been kept alive were all spotted. Fudo was an bay roan, Booie was an black, freckled thing, and now Calcifer was a dappled grey. It was beautiful though, and the young Knight wore it well enough that it suited him. Tuffs of onyx linens wavering in the cool wind that graced the Earth and offered some salvation from the impenetrable heat. The King lifted his skull to catch the riffs of the air and gladly cooled his throat and belfry, dropping his lantern to once more survey the colt at the base of the female. Welcome to Tristeza. Prince Calcifer. Then the duke did one thing many would not see. He dropped his shank and dropped to one knee; dome hitting the Earth and muzzle touching the soiled blades as he paided tribute to the little foal who couldn't even walk now. He was honoring the new prince - and hopefully, the new king.

A bird fluttered by & Art caught it back a few back feathers. Jerking back abruptly and whispering softly in the ear of the being. I want to let everyone from the water kingdom to the very depths of hell to know that my son is born. In obvious fright, the bird nodded rapidly and he was gone. Fluttering frantically to deliver the good news to the rest of the territories. excellent.


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music: notice me
muse: super
notes: none
words: 581
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[FireFlyDragon]

Retsuka
Wearing that same mask?
-Plus a bit of Calcifer, just some actions 8S-



Retsuka had no objection to his approach, pushing away thoughts of potential harm to her foal from his sire. If he had been displeased wouldn’t he have simply killed him already? But instinct was strong in her, and she couldn’t help but tense at least a little as he stood before the colt, still as anything. Her pillars brought her upwards, more then a little stiff from all that restless pacing and lying down for long periods of sunlight. She bowed her head slightly as Art spoke, crown nearly touching Calcifer’s own as she remained silent at his words. Prince Calcifer, already laying all that on him. Damn, and I thought maybe he had at least a shred of knowledge in him. Of course Retsuka knew he wouldn’t give a shit about anything other then how this colt grew up to rule his land, not to his inner feelings or own opinions. Unless they became as twisted as his own, witch she vowed would never happen. As long as she lived of course.

Sure she followed Art’s rule and did as he wished, that didn’t mean she had to like it or make that fate the same for her son. She gently blew upon the newborn’s soggy silk, urging him upwards with soft nickers as Art did his business, surprisingly snatching a chat with a passing bird. Who knew he could speak to other animals, certainly not this mare. Though the chat seemed to be more of an order as the creature flapped off with desperate fear stiffing his motions. “Rise” She whispered, nudging the foal upon his boa. He responded with a startled snort, bolting upright to stand upon his pillars, though he nearly toppled over within a moment. Retsuka gently held her crown against his hide, supporting him as he found his daggers and tried to make sense of all these surroundings. Small barrel took in fast, excited breaths as the small colt laid eyes upon the mighty steed before him, his wonder clear at the towering figure before him, the one that was not mother. One that did not mean safety and love.

Letting out a tiny snort, one of the only things the colt realized his voice box could produce he fled, a jumble to Retsuka’s side, pillars tangling without much effort. “This is your father Calcifer, look at him, not away” She told the trembling colt, though she hardly knew if he could understand her at this point. It usually took a while for the youngster to actually get what was going on around them, much less then understand such complicated speech. But with a glance at his mother and her calm stance he peeked out from beneath her barrel, mocha orbs staring wide at his sire with utmost curiosity. He had hardly seemed to notice he was standing, though very bowlegged and wobbly at the moment. “He seems quite capable M’lord” Retsuka said softly, nares taking in a relaxed breath. “If I may state my opinion.”

[taybay]

listen and wait for

A r t - x
echoes of angels who wont return

[/center][/color]



In a way, he had expected the colt to fear him. He watched as his son rose from his laying position to stand wobbling horribly on his four pillars. His strength would become better as he matured, and he was only maybe an hour from birthing. The knight stood with stillness as he watched the youth attempt to take-off in the other direction, being cut-off by his mother and herded back to the original place as he stood their trembling like a leaf. It was much like Booie's reaction, but none like Fudo's. Boo had fled to Mahnai and stayed beneath her for almost a week before allowing his architect to come and greet him; Fudo had wanted to crawl under his legs. She always had been such a daddy's girl.

Now here was his son; one of the now three living doctrines of Saint's Arts lineage that was so manicured to only contain those of friesian descent. But he enjoyed the mumble and jumble of the other breeds; and so stunning also. Each one like a newly carved masterpiece that he could take and hang on a shelf. Some for as long as his reign progressed, and others as long as a few seconds of admiration. Better than being killed, right? So he enjoyed killing the weak and admiring the beautiful. It was a 'trait' so to speak. Much how he looked 'pon his son with an impassive face. Back to the old King, for peace could never reign over these lands for long.

Aye, maiden. Probably the first time he had called her anything but a whore or wench, but the way he said it was laced with spite as normal. It was like a knife crossing through a sharpener compared to her soft soprano chords, and he had an inkling that it would frighten the heir for sure. Since he seemed skittish now that he had lain eyes upon his sire and obviously didn't like what he saw. But no matter, he would come to like daddy. He would come to like daddy very much.

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music: because you live - jesse mccartney
muse: good
notes: none
words: 434
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