#10: What if.... Better late than never!
Thanks to Neiran for inadvertantly lighting a fire under my ass. I give you:
Tav's 'What If'.
There is the sharp whistle at the end of the chalky line drawn across a wide stretch of loose dirt and ground. High above in a cloudless sky, the wild light shines hot and bright, making the air dance dragonlegnths ahead. And suddenly there is thunder all around them. There is the sound of breathing coming and going in short bursts, and the feel of muscles and limbs pummeling solid soil below. There are stones and loose patches of grit thrown up in her face, in her hair. In her mouth, because she, too, is breathing like a dog under the summer sun. But for several different reasons. She breathes like this because it keeps time. Keeps rhythm. Here, she must achieve with the beast below what the dragonmen achieve with their lifemates.
She and Serenus must act as one thing. One mobile unit across this stretch of dirt, upon which so much rests. The races are very important to the Runner stables of High Reaches Hold. Not only because a good winning streak brings in good business.
But because her father is watching. Her brother is watching, home from Caucus for the Gather with many stories of success to tell. She wants to have them to tell back.
The sleek black creature beneath curves into a turn, grunting momentarily as the ground shifts beneath and pulls them outward. No biggy. He may be heavier than some of the others, but his endurance has been tested. Has proven itself. They /will/ win this. Must. Will. Have to. Want to.
Faster. The next stretch, that which will bring them around for the Big Finish. THIS is where the black beast makes his statement. THIS is where the crowds stand up and raise their voices in rising suspense as, through the weaving, dodging bodies, the black beast acts as a needle, sewing his way to triumph and his fifth consecutive win.
There is no other way!
There can /be/ no other way.
That thin line, that thin and ragged white line. Her eyes are on it. Serenus knows not the meaning of the word stop as, stretching himself to the will of her heart's desire, he crosses, long face and neck securing them a victory that will surely bring a good winter to their stable yard and stores. The gathered folk are up on their feet, among them her parents raising their arms; mother waving happily, father pumping a fist in the air, Jen even smirking as a pretty woman curls her arm through his, the other busied with the bundle that is their first son. Casen, they named him, in the Pernese custom of combing the name of father and mother. Tav, for one, thought he was fantastic, and spent many evenings babysitting the boy so that her older brother could treat Cate to a night out, like she deserved. Auntie Tav was happy to do so.
After pausing at the finishing clearing, rider and runner take themselves over to the pickets, Tav barely near the one reserved for their stable before broad arms pull her out of her saddle and into an embrace that earns them many a whistle from the other stablehands. A kiss, a strong, calloused hand at the back of her head, pulling the riding helmet from it to sink into her hair. Pride. He is proud of her, she can tell. He may not say it in words, but for her.. he doesn't need to. It must simply be known. Soon her feet are pulled from the ground and her world becomes a blur, swung around in his grasp. Taller and broader than she, he is one of the few men she will ever allow to make her feel this delicate. The sound of her laugh is rich and full, falling into black tresses that he leaves down for Gathers.
It is brief. And soon he sets her back down upon the ground so that the family may have a chance. He is still new to the picture and knows this. Family first. At least until he becomes part of it. Mother and father first, then Jen, then Cate with one arm, and a kiss for Casen's forehead. Congratulations, thank yous, welcomes, excellent race, brilliant finish, patting on the neck for Serenus, who is much kinder now that he's been gelded (the brute) and a sudden quiet as her family stares. And smiles knowingly, heads turning to eachother. And then Jen is pointing, and Tav is turning, and the man with black hair is kneeling and uncurling semi-dirty fingers to reveal a modest, beautiful ring.
The man has a question. Tav has an answer.