Sunbeam Lair Halcyon

April 2nd <3

When she came awake, the first thing she knew was pain. Not much, not as much as she would have expected. Mostly Reverie ached all over. The swelling of her belly had gone down considerably, she noticed immediately, and her children —
@Child!
Lived!
She had expected the horror of cold corpses. Instead she laid eyes on the tiniest bundle of golden fur she had ever seen, arranged at her flank so peacefully, and time stopped. Everything stopped. She felt a million things at once; dread, wonder, relief to see none of the girl's father in her. Suddenly the world had changed, and Reverie was unsure what it meant. All she knew was that Lestan was no longer the most beautiful thing in the world. He did not matter at all.
It was her, her, all her. A daughter. Reverie had a daughter. She remembered how to breathe and found herself gasping for air. There was blood even now, blood and fluid seeping into the girl’s fur. She swept her up from the mess and cleaned her, and if she noticed anything off about the scent on her, that thought was quickly lost and then forgotten as she replaced it with her own scent. By the time Reverie was done cleaning her, all trace of what had brought her here was gone.
Reverie would never know this for a lie.
She moved herself and her daughter away from her own blood and mess with slow wincing steps, even knowing it would only pool again when she resettled. Reverie needed help; a healer. But not yet. She wanted time with her daughter, and she knew now that she would be okay.
Reverie remembered the woman with eyes of fire and her promise. A gift. Life from the ashes of all that Reverie had burned. Do what they'll never expect. She knew what everyone expected; she knew they looked at her and saw only a problem, a whole mess of problems, waiting to be solved. No. Reverie was more than that, far more than anyone knew. Maybe this was her chance to prove it.
She watched her daughter with tired eyes, determined eyes. I’ll have to name her… And at that Reverie thought of Rose. But she could hardly call her that.
Rose… Blossom. Rose Blossom Mayfair.
She was still Lestan’s daughter, even if he did not want her. And she deserved to know her name, her heritage; she deserved to carry on a legacy untainted by her fretful flighty broken mother. Even if Lestan never returned, Akavir was at the Creek. Blossom could grow and learn alongside his children.
Things would be okay.
Blossom, She sighed as she spoke the name for the first time, eyes tracing her. My Rose Blossom; my little miracle. I wasn't ready, but now that I've met you… Now she had a purpose. She would raise Blossom, love her, guide her, and when the time came for her to spread her own gilded wings and fly…
Reverie would return to The Garden.

To little Blossom, the world had been cold for some time. She existed there, unwarmed, uncleaned, until teeth had seized her and moved her from the cold into the warmth.

She did not know it, but something in her body, in the bones and sinew of her blood, said sun.

She did not know when the name fell from her mother’s lips, when it fell upon her, but she threw her little legs out like a kitten stretching, and released a quiet meee!, not in protest or in anger, because she had never felt that, but in the simple pleasure of making sound.

Even if she couldn’t hear it!

Reverie could not help but laugh, a tired but delighted sound in the empty air of the cavern. Yes, that's you, She murmured. For a moment she almost wondered if her daughter would be a dancer or a singer. But it was her birthright to be both, to be far more than Reverie herself could ever reach for.
She yawned and laid her head down, wanting a moment to rest before the inevitable. We have a long day ahead of us, Reverie told Blossom softly. She knew she couldn't hear. But it felt right to speak to her all the same. I wish Lestan was here. Your father. Maybe he would sing for us... But Lestan was a coward who had run from the family he'd claimed to want. Blossom didn't have to know that, though. If her father must exist only in stories, Reverie decided, they would be the best stories. Her daughter deserved a father she could be proud of, even if he did not truly exist.