r h a e l l a
[sooo, i'm pretending this is slightly further in the future than it actually is. can we say that when they first met, she was only just pregnant but didn't know it, and now (a few months later game-time) she's actually noticeably preggers? :3]
She could still remember his face, plain as day: dark with tired eyes gleaming, a hidden knowledge etching lines into his youthful face. She'd often wondered what went through that mind of his, particularly the day she had almost been claimed by death: not once, but twice. Again, when he had given her permission to call him Alyosha had she wondered also. And finally, after having recovered from her strenuous visit to Tinuvel, on the day she stood on the beach and bid him goodbye, and they had... they had...
At first she hadn't really understood what had happened. She hadn't ever felt such a strong instinctual urge before, not even on the continent with the stallion who had pledged to one day be her bunhil. But it had felt right, and somehow, without even really knowing what she was getting herself into, she had known that it was the right thing to do. It was the only feasible way she could thank Aleksei for saving her life. Nonetheless, she had spent the last few months of her dashbiga, wandering the islands as she had before, with a strange feeling permeating her soul. She was content, and yet... she was confused. And almost shameful.
To be with child, and yet not bonded with a stallion, was, in her culture, one of the highest of sins. Had she been on the continent, her family would have sent her away the moment the pregnancy became apparent, to live alone in the mountains until the child was born. An islander, had they heard this, might've been shocked at such a twisted view of morality, but her people's justification was that, before the Eyes of Malachite (as they were nicknamed), where death was prevalent, whatever happened to either mother or foal simply happened: it was the will of the gods. If the mare and child returned unharmed, they would be re-welcomed into society, having been seen as blessed.
Rhaella, having abandoned the last leg of her dashbiga the moment her belly became too round to be simply the result of overfeeding, swam relentlessly from isle to isle until her legs were sore, her belly ached, and her nostrils stung with salt. It was almost as if it was her subconscious way of atoning for her actions, for she had no family here to send her away into the Guardian mountains. If she died, that would be her punishment for breaking the laws of her people; if she survived, then she could return to Aleksei and tell him that he was going to be a father.
There was an obstacle, however: and it was the island of Atlantis, planted almost inconveniently right in her path. Rhaella had no intention of altering her course; therefore, moving in a straight line, she arrived sloshing and stumbling onto the very beach she had first met Dante (and, she recalled to her embarrassment, called him a demon). She was vaguely aware of this fact in the recesses of her mind, but still she had no intention of resting, and so she continued forward with a determined look in her green eyes despite the the fact she was soaking wet and exhausted, intending to cut straight through the middle of the island.
three | sooty flaxen chestnut sabino | 15hh | saddlebred mix | shiva |
