(Untitled)

[davor_dandalrei]

Dave was a survivor, that before all other things. Before, in Fionavar, he’d lived through the war. He was there on Maidaladan, when Kevin went away. He was on the banks of the Aiden when his babies were killed. For so much, he was there, and for so much of it he had been fighting. It was a part of him, undeniable. All things leave their mark

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[flowers_on_skin]

She was walking barefoot in the grass, with a baby grizzling on her hip. Flo had a bad night, and hasn't stopped crying all day. Eventually, she was going to wear herself out. Eventually. Eostre stopped and watched the man with the horse, with idle appreciation, as she smoothed Flo's fine hair and rocked on the balls of her feet.

It was idle admiration, and there wasn't any harm in it.

[davor_dandalrei]

He had become engrossed in picking tangles and thrushes from the black's unruly mane, and the horse tolerated him, nipping every so often at the sleeve of his shirt. Dave hushed him and went on speaking in a low, comforting tone, remembering that first night on the Plain when Ivor's daughter had danced, and danced.

As it is, its a few moments before he notices her, the woman with the long blond hair. When he turned, he froze completly. Memory goes a long way back, even through so much. He remembers letting blood in Gwen Ystrat, the way the ground had felt, the way that he had felt, there with the priestesses on Maidaladan. And...oh, he remembered Cienwein, and the things she'd done for him.

"Dana," he said, and his voice sounded like it was near to cracking. His was unsure, torn between reverence and justified anger, his fingers still knotted in the black's mane.

"They told me you don't exist here," he said finally, almost an accusation, "They said that you weren't a thing that was real."

[flowers_on_skin]

"Dana," said Eostre, her voice far away, a crease between her straight, dark brows. "Now that's an old name. A powerful sort of name. Not mine, though, child. My name is Eostre. And I don't know you."

She shifted the weight of her second born daughter on her hip.

"And I promise you that I exist. I am a real thing."

[davor_dandalrei]

"You were in Pendaran," he protested, feeling small, humble. He remembers around Cienwen there had been a lot of light. This woman...was a woman, only, but he couldn't deny the history he felt. Maybe once she had been more.

"You gathered the dead, by the Aiden," he went on, his voice pleading. "You stopped the Hunt. Lady, you must remember this. Aren't you here now to take me back?"

[flowers_on_skin]

"I was never in Pendaran," she said, though the word sounded familiar, somehow. Many worlds, first of worlds. "And that was never me. My name is Eostre, and they used to call me the Lady of the Dawn. And I was never by your river, child."

[davor_dandalrei]

"Eostre," he repeated quietly, looking at her like he didn't quite believe her, or at the least, he did not want to. He looked up at the black and back to her, shifting uneasily.

"You're very much like the goddesses," he said at last, flushing slightly, frustrated with himself. "The goddesses in Fionavar." He looked up at her hopefully, still with the sense that she was more than she seemed. "You can't bring me back there, can you? They tell me over and over that there's no way, but there's a battle, Lady, and it's the only one that's ever been important. In all the Weaver's worlds."

[flowers_on_skin]

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Something about what he said, the weaver's worlds, Fionavar, rang bells, silver bells, and she found herself staring straight into Flo's blue eyes.

"I was a goddess once," she said, no harm in the confession. "But I have no power here. It is not my place. I am far, far from my power here. I am no-one but my daughters' mother."

[davor_dandalrei]

He looked at the woman, the goddess, with her daughter in her arms. He remembers Galadan, Fidelis, the half gods of the wood. The child in her arms is beautiful and perfect, but a child only. He half raised his hand, let it drop. She was a small woman, Eostre was, and Dave suddenly felt awkward and huge, like he had so many times before.

"I'm Davor," he offered gruffly, "But here, just Dave. I was a Rider, and...hah. A basketball player before that." He went back to rubbing the matted blood out of the black's dull hair.

"Here, there is nothing."

[flowers_on_skin]

"Dave. Davor," Eostre repeated it back to him and gave him a smile as bright as the dawn.

"And that's where you're wrong, Davor. Here, there is life."

[davor_dandalrei]

"But elsewhere there is war," he said. Perhaps he had been wrong before, when he thought she had no light around her. When she smiled, the light was all there, unapologetic, blinding.

"It is hard to celebrate life, knowing."

[flowers_on_skin]

"There's always a war, pet," said Eostre, sadly. "Fact of life, I'm afraid...Sometimes, the road to peace runs with blood."

White teeth touched her bottom lip and she hefted Flora in her arms.

"Life goes on."

[davor_dandalrei]

"Do you know it?" he asked softly, hand hovering over the Black's stained hide. "Fionavar? You said you were a goddess, and that was the first."

He looked up at her, fluishing slightly, "Did you know Liadon?"

[flowers_on_skin]

Eostre's brow furrowed. She felt like she knew. She felt like she knew a million miles away, too far away to really put her fingers on. Bells were ringing.

"Not me, pet. Not me. But somebody very like me probably did."

[davor_dandalrei]

Dave had to cap his anger, the uselessness. To be so close and yet so completly far away...

"This place is a waste," he said finally, raising his hand to roughly tug a bristle from the black's mane, but stopping himself before causing the animal any pain. His voice was rough, he half turned away. "It's...worthless. How do people accept and settle here?"

He sounded disdainful, but beneath that there was pian

[flowers_on_skin]

Her mouth tightened, as though she'd tasted something bad, a moue of displeasure.

"You might feel like that, young soldier. You might, but don't feel that you can belittle the lives that people have made here. Don't think that you can make them feel small for what they do, Davor."

[davor_dandalrei]

"And what do they do?" he demanded, turning. "And how the hell is that supposed to be enough?"