Tuari was lost. After Requiem's sudden confession, the realization of what those hidden truths meant for her began to sink in.

At first his works washed over her like melting snow; biting cold that drew the breath from her lungs. She had fled from him then, her head trying to grasp the realization of what his words meant to her... what his confession meant for her.

Just when she beginning to feel as if the fates had finally given her a place in this life, Requiem had to come and ruin it. How she hated him for it. Hated him and hated mother. She blamed her more than anything now. Nova should have told her, even if it meant Warsaw's wrath at least then she could have understood it. Now... now she nurtured an abomination with her body and there was no way to undo what had been done.

She had done her best to avoid Torsten lately. She used the growing foal and restlessness as an excuse to avoid what had once been enjoyable nights nestled against his warm side. She was not ignorant to the hurt that flashed in his eyes but more than once he simply nodded as she ambled away with the heavy swell of her belly swaying beneath her. She did her best to hide the shudder from her skin when he brushed near or met her with eager affections. She forced the softness in her eyes even as the bile rose in her throat.

Cursed.

The thought lingers even as the first pains of labor drive the breath from her lungs. Fear rimmed her eyes in white as she struggled to draw oxygen into her lungs and fight away the images of a mutated foal. Would this child suffer because of her? Could she love this foal knowing what she knew? Over and over the thoughts plagued her mind as she fell into the age old birthing process until at last the foal lay in a limp bundle on the ground behind her. She hated herself for it and yet she could not stop herself from hoping that the child would never draw a breath. The silence hung heavily around her until the rustling of disturbed grasses banished the hope. Of course the child lived.

Instinct alone brings her to her feet and for the first time she finds herself gazing down at the small foal squirming amid the bloody tangle of birth. A daughter. Pale pink skin shown smeared with damp fluids. Tiny tuffs of silver white hair sprouted along the gentle curve of the thrashing filly's neck. Tuari wanted to love her. How she wanted to adore her and yet the truth still burned in her mind. She shouldnt be.

Absently she watches as the tiny filly struggled to stand. Anger boiled in her thoughts at the occasion that should have been a happy one now ruined in the knowledge of her daughter's lineage. A curse.

A single ear flickers backwards as after a few tumbles forward, the pale filly managed to gather her feet beneath her. Tiny eyes blink up at her own and she cannot find it in her to move. The filly stretches her muzzle forward, its damp contact leaving her own muzzle feeling icy cold. She wanted her mother's warmth and yet Tuari could not find the warmth in her eyes. She stands rigid as the filly wobbles to her side, drawn by the overwhelming scent of milk that dripped from her swollen teats. Should she name her? Would that help her find a connection to the abomination? Could she name her? Yes. She owed the filly that much.

"Torvi." like a whisper the name falls from her lips unbidden. It was a name that she had Torsten had lingered upon when the first signs of movement in her belly indicated that their coupling had been sucessful... when first the ideas of starting their own family had burned with a fierce fire in their shared minds. For her, the fire is gone. She could not be mates to her uncle. Surely the news would rock Torsten as well. Could she tell him? Again the bile rose in her throat making her shift uncomfortably with the wave of nausea. Torvi snorted softly in protest but did not attempt to follow. A belly filled with warm milk was enough to make the newborn begin to feel the exhaustion of birth. She stumbles to Tuari's side again, her small body leaning against the warmth of Tuari's skin for comfort. Tentatively she touches mother's pale gold breast, stretching her muzzle up to breath heavily her scent. It was not the comfort she wanted but it was enough for now. Awkwardly she crumples to the ground with legs splayed. A heavy grunt leaves her lips as she flops on her side and closes her eyes.

Tuari watches her daughter, searching for some semblance of pleasure in the small filly. Innocence. The girl did not know her heritage. The girl was ignorant to the lies that had conceived her. She deserved happiness didn't she? The perfect daughter. "Torvi" she breathes dropping her own muzzle to press gently against the sleeping filly's neck. "Oh what shall I do Torvi." she asks, a question she knows that not even a mother could answer.