Logs:Sisters With Secrets
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| RL Date: 18 March, 2012 |
| Who: Eire, Nakasha |
| Involves: Benden Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Once upon a time, this happened. Subsequently (and off camera), so did other things. |
| Where: Benden Weyr |
| When: Month 7, Turn 25 - onwards |
| Mentions: Erika/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
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| Tansayth had always been in sync with the cycles of Eire's body, those internal rhythms so often overlooked for much of the month, then despised and counted past. It hadn't taken long for Eire to work it out; when she first remarked upon it to her green, Tansayth had been both unsurprised and unconcerned. « Why shouldn't my fertile times match yours? We're two parts of a whole, my Eire. In tandem, we will create life. » And that was certainly true. Eire had known long before she'd consciously known, really: known that she had no interest in men, known that it was, and had always been, the women in her life she gravitated towards. Without Tansayth, there would be no babies to fill her womb and her arms; and while Tansayth preferred to make no remark on the lovers her lifemate chose, her own choices would, undeniably, shape the future for them both. Tansayth often chose dragons with female riders. Eire said chose, and meant it: Tansayth did little that was not, in the end, deliberate. Perhaps she didn't always get her way, but when there was one in particular she was after-- manipulation is, after all, a woman's game. She'd chosen Kastaveth, first. And second. It had been a surprise, then, the first time she hadn't: and afterwards, Eire had waited expectantly, quietly hopeful. There had been no baby, that time, but perhaps it was for the best: Kash was leery about the prospect. Kash was still broken up inside about the son she'd abandoned, and Kash didn't think that adding a baby into their lives was reasonable/responsible/appropriate/worth wanting. Eire buried her disappointment when she buried her head in her lover's shoulder, breathing in the salty sweetness of Kash's skin. Every three months, there was another flight; Tansayth rose often. Kastaveth caught often, too, but not always: other blues, other browns, other bronzes, they all vied for her, and sometimes they caught. Sometimes their riders were male, and the waiting began all over again. Sometimes not. On a lazy, hazy summer's afternoon in turn twenty-five, it was K'del's Cadejoth that caught Tansayth. To be honest, Eire had expected it from the moment she'd caught sight of that so-obvious shock of hair, so like her lover's hair, but not the same. She knew Kash would be angry - hurt and betrayed - but it was, nonetheless, Tansayth's choice, not Eire's. When K'del left, Eire stayed. They were alike, brother and sister - alike, but also not. In K'del, she could see what Kash might have been, had things been different; had they been different, Kash would not have been her Kash, and yet-- she felt regret. And she felt wistfulness. Do you think... this time, Tansayth? « It could be so. What will Kash think? » Kash will throw things. But I want this, Tansayth. If I were to have his baby-- it would be the closest possible thing to having her baby. Surely she'll be able to understand that. To that, Tansayth had no answer. Kash railed. She sobbed. She threw things at the wall and then beat her fists against it, her whole body shaking. For days, she followed Eire around with reproachful eyes: eyes that asked how could you do this to me? Can't you see? In between throwing up her meals and trying, desperately, to get enough sleep to be functional, Eire tried to pacify her weyrmate. "He doesn't have to know," she told her. "I won't tell him, if you don't want me to. I won't go and see him, I won't make you do it, either. You know how much I want this, love. Please." Sometimes, she felt guilty. Was it fair, forcing Kash into this? Was it fair, not telling K'del about the son-or-daughter he had on the way? Would they all live to regret it? But Eire yearned to meet the child growing inside of her. She felt more complete than she could imagine - she, who had once imagined that Tansayth was all she could ever need. And Tansayth... « Our little one, » she called it, as full of maternal pride and joy as Eire was herself. « Our baby. » Ours. The one they'd made together. No: there was no way she could abort this child. They were laying in bed, one afternoon, tangled in the sheets, when Kash put her hand down on the defined curve of Eire's stomach, palm flat. Winter had come to Benden, now, and Eire's body seemed to be changing, day by day, morphing into a new shape to hold the life within. "He's kicking," said Kash, in surprise. It was the first time she'd referred to the baby, properly. For months, they'd danced around the subject, avoided it when they needed to, pretended-- pretended all kinds of things. Eire felt her eyes fill with tears. "He likes you," she murmured, carefully. "He ought to," said Kash, almost as carefully as her weyrmate; she glanced, now, at the other woman. "I'm going to be one of his mamas, aren't I?" In a tiny voice, Eire asked, "Are you?" "Do you... want me to be?" Kash seemed uncertain. "Of course I do." Their daughter was born on the cusp of spring, with a head full of black hair, like her mama's, already curling, like her mother's. When Bendenites marvelled at how like them both she was, Eire only smiled; but she knew that Kash worried about it, that no matter how much she had grown to love this child, she would be the undoing of her secret. And Eire would put her hand on Kash's arm and remind her, sometimes with words and sometimes without, that little Erika was their daughter, and who cared what anyone else thought? |
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