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▻ Aldora (x Lucerne); Oracle (x Ironclad) ◅
She had been a rather negligent mother, honestly. It had been such a long time to go flitting between men, following the leylines blindly as if they had any a care for the one who tread their paths. Lucerne had been one of the good ones, the first here who fate saw fit to gift her with a child. Her time with him had been as brief as the flare that had marked her own conception.
Then it had become Ironclad, her fortune or misfortune yet to be determined. What she knew, though, with the flare during their night together - the violence in him she had witness was no place for the coming child he’d given her. He was cold, distant, so full of revenge that she nearly trembled with it as she watched him stare off into distances unknown.
This child, somehow she knew that it would not thrive in his care - in her care as she would yet be in his care - and it had not even breathed its first breath. Every time she thinks this, she can feel the stirring - the uncanny feeling in her gut of something there that had not been previously. It likely had no shape as yet, but still this sensation told her the shred of universe that was taking shape knew that it was not coming into the world with only kindness ahead.
"You look troubled. I couldn’t help noticing, your face looks so sad." So young to call her ‘dear’, but Tarot had met old souls before that had made a lie of their years on the earth. She looks at her brightness and feels the dark wine and plum of her own body strangely shadowed by less glorious things than the gifts this woman had.
Not superstitiousness but oneness? Perhaps that was it - a child of the lines, rather than a follower of them. "The child will not be born to a good world. It pains me." She does not specify or articulate, simply allowing whatever presumptions and assumptions to be entirely this stranger’s own. Stranger, ah yes. "I am Tarot..."
OF THE LOST ISLANDS WILDS
▻ 11 years - national show horse x morgan - sooty flaxen liver chestnut splash - 14.3 hh ◅