The big black alicorn moved through the woods of the valley home, knowing that the time would soon come for her foal to be born. A thing she had not thought would come so soon. Her wings carried her into the air as she sought out Fantasma.
Even as she spotted him she had to dive to the ground as some thing inside of her kicked. She neighed once in discomfort as she landed a little less gracefully than usually, her legs folding under her as she felt something moving within her belly. "Fantasma..."
Post by .:Phantom:. on Nov 24, 2010 14:20:31 GMT 8
Ebony flashed once in the sky before landing beside the gigantic fae that laid upon his soil - their soil. Flapping the feathered wings gently, he came to stand beside her, the strong, thick pillars standing next to her, to protect her in case danger came. His blue eyes searched hers, but the only thing he could see in them was pain and discomfort. Within them, still, was love and adoration even through all this she was feeling. Free Spirit was doing this for them, for the future of the herd, and Fantasma was eternally grateful to have such a great mare and mother in his herd.
"Dear, Freier Geist, are you okay?" he asked, leaning down with his crown to nuzzle her face. No experience he had with this sort of foal birthing, but nature would do what was expected if the youth was meant to be born. Great mothers of five or six foals had told her that. Some were fit to bring New Life - some were not. From the flinching of her sides, the king guessed that it was alive, whoever it was. It would be someone great. A beta maybe, a gamma, a sub herder, maybe even a king! The possibilities were endless.
Her sides felt as though they would burst as she struggled to rid herself of the foal to be born. Time seemed to go so slowly as she struggled. It was not comfortable, lying on her wings like this. Though she knew Fantasma had come, she knew that he was talking to her but she could not speak at the moment. At last the foal was born, but how odd it looked.
A mixture of palomino, dun, brown, black and white the little filly was. She was cuter than any she'd seen before. Dun and brown hued were the wings. Black on her mane, tail, forelock, hooves and part of her sides. An odd looking red weal was over one of her eyes. "Chrisanthia."
Fantasma clenched himself together as he hoped from the inside out that she had no pain. All mothers went through pain, whether it was the process or the act of letting them go their own way. That was supposed to be what made foals love their mothers; occasionally, there was one mother, one that gave their young ones away or were insane. Sometimes they would even beat them unmercifully and call them terrible names. Free Spirit wasn't one to do that sort of things though; she was a truly deserving mare. As the foal came, he let a sigh of relief drift through his lips.
The most stunning array of hues the filly possessed - she was so beautiful. Fantasma never thought that he would have a young one with such an amazing pelt. She would be trained for the acting of kindness, too. With wings, she would soar above the plains and mountains above. No horn was upon her crown, unlike her father. Fantasma could still tell that she had great power. "Chrisanthia," he whispered down to her. "It's the perfect name, for the perfect filly," he softened his gaze, reaching his nose down to watch the beautiful young one.
"Looks to me that my mother and father are within her as well. My mother was gold and dun. My father a brown and black horse." She snorted in amusement. Who would have thought that their foal would end up taking mostly after her own parents? This was something amusing.
The little filly looked up and them and then smiling, struggling straight away to her feet, seeming as smart as her mother was at the moment.
Fantasma was too, amused by these hues that their daughter had. "My parents were also interesting in coloration. My mother was purely white with green swirls upon her pillars and face, and my father was dark gray with black pillars," he replied, nodding as he saw some of the ebony hues from his family. "Truthfully, I look the most like my grandfather, and Hemlock is a spitting image of him," Fantasma said, referring to the purple eyes that his son had and the hue of his horn. His grandfather had been a great leader, too, so maybe his son would be that too. One could only hope.
It was amazing how quickly she was on her feet. When he had been a foal, it had felt like it had been a lifetime when he was finally standing. His mother told him after that he had only been struggling for minutes before he was playing. Six months later, he was flying. This filly would too, in time. Both mother and father would teach her how to get around from the wonderful transportation of flying.
She chuckled. The little filly wobbled once as she moved towards her mother, searching for something. The older black mare smiled, moving over to her little one.
"That is an interesting thing, how both the foals so far have taken after a family member in our past. Crisanthia seems a mixture of all our parents. Not to mention us."
She was very happy with the little filly. He would never know how much she was pleased about how things had turned out for them. She knew though that Crisanthia was going to be a lot more wiser than she seemed now.
Post by .:Phantom:. on Nov 25, 2010 12:29:30 GMT 8
Fantasma nodded to her as she said her words, confirming their truthfulness. "I have never seen anyone like her," he said, spreading his wings to brush the filly gently. Up, he flew, demonstrating to the young one what the wings upon her back were meant to do. They were meant to soar high above the clouds, but he kept in her range of sight. The more excited the young one was, the more she would practice her flight routines. Essential, they were for battle. First, speed and stamina would have to be finished off by playful vigorous activity every day.
"Little Crissie," he landed beside her, wanting to speak to his daughter. "You will be able to do that and much more when you get older - you will start in a few months," Fantasma proclaimed. He had always loved foals, and that was one of the many things that made him a good king and a great father. Any heir of the king would be protected with his life. The foals of betas, gammas, and sub herders were important, but there were always priorities. Fantasma couldn't wait until more horses began to crowd in upon the territory.
The little filly snorted, eyes widening as she watched her father leap up into the sky. It was amazing to her to see him up there, held up there by nothing but the feathery things called wings that were attached to his back. She swung her head around, looking at her own wings.
When he landed though, she looked at him. "Really?"
Post by .:Phantom:. on Nov 25, 2010 13:14:36 GMT 8
Fantasma smiled and nodded to his daughter, the only heir of his so far that would fly. "Really," he replied, encouraging her to get some exercise and flap them. There was plenty of room for them to play here, and even though Fantasma never played much, he didn't mind spending time with his young filly since he didn't get a chance to spend much time with Nightshade and Hemlock when he was this age. The hills would build her topline, while galloping for long distances would improve her form overall.
"I'll race you," he said, readying his pillars. Of course, he would not run all out on her. No filly, no matter the age, could beat an experienced stag at a race. Still, her feeling victory for the first time would be good for her. Not always would she win at everything, but this was one of those rare occasions. Fantasma looked to Freier Geist a smiled a little bit.
Post by .:Phantom:. on Nov 25, 2010 13:54:50 GMT 8
Fantasma laughed like he hadn't since he was but a two year old bachelor. Kicking up dust behind him, his pillars moved in a rather slow motion, so the filly could sprint it all out. If she figured he was holding back, she would go slow though. Surging right past her, he did, challenging her go move up next to him. In the end, he'd let her win, but he would mess with Crissie for a while. "You comin'?" he asked playfully, kicking his heels up happily.