Falls

The painted Codebreaker was quiet as her companion hastened to take care of the little girl, her watchful gaze a metaphor for the rest of their relationship. Neither one of them were adept at romance, nor were they (seemingly) very comfortable having any sort of feelings at all. The slender Teke stallion, especially, was a master of tamping down his own thoughts and feelings to make way for those around him and this moment was no exception. Even now, with the birth of his first child and surprise adoption of a second, he was doing his best to gauge Ashteroth's mood rather than reveling in his own complicated emotions surrounding the event.

At his prompt, she speaks again, naming the small girl Hrist. It was a strong name, made stronger by the meaning that Ashteroth associates with it, and Gecko nods. She will have to endure much to heal from such wounds at such a young age, but her chances, Gecko knows, are wildly boosted by having a strong mother to watch over her. "I like it," he murmurs quietly, without interrupting.

She moves to the boy then, and though her gaze goes to the little roan colt, his gaze stays upon her face. His chest is tight with something that feels like longing, but when she raises her gaze back to him, Gecko has already dropped his back to the boy. Arkadi. It is not the sort of name his father would have approved of, he thinks. And his mother would have come to the same conclusion, only because she had never gone against his father. He often used to wonder if that would have changed, if he'd had more time with them. If his experience with his parents was forever misshapen because of how little time he'd had with them.

He lowers his muzzle to the colt then, not quite touching the sleeping boy but drinking in the scent of him, of them, all mingled together in the sort of family he had never allowed himself to dream of. His chest grew tighter and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He should reassure Ash, but his gaze is on the boy. On all the hopes and dreams and fears wrapped into his little body, twined into wisps of mane and painted in the whorls of his coat.

"Your name is Arkadi, my son," he murmurs, voice trembling. "And you will give the name the meaning it deserves." With a trembling brush of his muzzle across the boy's forehead, the sooty stallion takes a step back to give them space, and then glances back to Ashteroth. Mountains of things lay unsaid between them, but he still offers her a smile. "Thank you, Ash. Truly."