Welcome to Gaia! ::

Mountain winds howled outside their house like restless spirits. Thick walls and — in certain parts — the earth of the mountain itself, where Casseth had aided them in building it straight into the body of soil and stone, muffled the surrounding sound to an extent, dulling it and making it seem more distant than it truly was. But it provided a backdrop, nonetheless.

Ara’s parents had stayed for another week subsequent to the event with Callum, helping them finalize their move along with Casseth and Lithian. They had brought with them the last of their things as well as the newly acquired, and wholly unanticipated, stock of five extra hastars, left behind by the dead men who had kidnapped Ara. With the help of their company, they constructed a quick, makeshift ‘stable’ for the beasts, with intent to expand on it later, and for now, things seemed in order.

This was the first night that Detraeus and Araceli had entirely to themselves in the mountains. And neither of them could sleep. Both sat upright at the edge of their mattress, her folded into his lap as best she would fit and him with his arms looped around her, loose, and intrinsically protective. When she shivered, he tucked closer against her, nesting a kiss into the niche of her throat and shoulder and shutting his eyes. He ran his fingers up, and down her arms — a listless, gentle touch — and let his wings stretch and twitch.

“Should I make fire?” he asked. “You’re cold…”

Detraeus watched Ara stand, his gaze trailing down her shape as she made her way away from the bed and out through the door, long, dark hair loose down her back and nightgown hiding little. Flushing as he realized the direction of his thoughts, he grunted and pushed to a stand himself, moving into their living room — the wind more audible there, given that it was out of the protected niche tucked into the mountain — and gathering some of their stored tinder to start a fire as requested. It didn’t take long, the process all but automatic for him now, but even after he had it burning at a healthy rate, he lingered, watching the flames lick upwards like heated dancers.

He had everything here, now, that he never dared imagine he might. Infinitely more, certainly, than he deserved, and yet, here it all was before him. Privacy. Safety. A mate. Children to come. His tail flicked across the floorboards, and he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, enjoying the warmth as the firelight skipped over the planes of his skin. The n** of approaching winter could already be felt in the air, and he glanced towards the kitchen as Araceli’s sounds of prep petered off. When she started to head out, he stood and approached her, gathering the tray to take the weight off her hands and nodding towards the fire.

“Here?” he asked. “Warmer.”

He flushed and dipped his head in a nod, setting the tray carefully down to the side before standing again and helping Ara to sit. As she settled, he hesitated, eyeing the floor. After only a moment’s debate, he grunted and kissed her cheek.

“Moment,” he said, and moved off, heading back for the bedroom.

When he returned, it was with spare furs in hand, generally used for traveling and thus thick and warm since — under their usual use — they served as the only bedding in and of themselves. He laid them out before the fire and helped resituate Ara atop them before settling down beside her himself.

This, he decided as he lifted a mug — watching her out of the corner of his vision and studying the way firelight danced over her features — was better than any afterlife, any ‘heaven’ or holy sanctuary. This was everything to him. He leaned over and touched his lips to her shoulder, tail curling around her side.

‘I love you…’

“Mm.” Detraeus lingered, half propped on Araceli’s shoulder, eyes shut. After a moment, though, he sat back up and glanced down to her belly. “Girls,” he said. “They’re girls.”

Detraeus hesitated, and then shrugged. “Yes. Healthy.”

He, too, would love them regardless, but he prayed for girls just the same. Experience had left a rotten taste in his mouth when it came to men, and he was convinced that, while there were slight exceptions to the general rule, the gods had made a collective error in their design for the male sex. It was crueler. More twisted. Deranged. Selfish.

Flawed, at a fundamental level. Men seemed pre-destined to cause pain: to themselves, to others, and to women. Himself, of course, included. Women, however, while capable of harm, did not have it wired into them in the same way.

He eyed the fire and hummed. Yes. Girls. They ought to both be girls.

“Names?” he asked.

“Mm…Annila…” Detraeus tilted his head, testing the name on his tongue. “I like it.”

His brow furrowed in thought as he tried to think of names he had heard and liked. Though he realized, now, it made sense they ought to contemplate such a thing, it had never occurred to him earlier, and he found himself at a loss at first. What made for a ‘good’ name to begin with?

“Martrae’a was the name of a woman important to me…but I do not think her name is…‘pretty.’ Should a girl child’s name be pretty…? Or powerful, or…” He reached up, frowning thoughtfully and rubbing at one of his ears. “Perhaps I am not good at this. Ahanna? Akara…Sanala…” He thumbed up the side of his mug. “I think the ‘ah’ sound is…nice?”

“Ataya…” Detraeus glanced to her. “That is a boy’s name? It’s very pretty. I like it.” He considered a moment, and then added, “Atteu, also. It’s…strong. And Akara is strong. If they are girls…Annila…and Akara. You like both of these names?”

“Nn…” Detraeus shut his eyes into the kiss.

Easily ‘persuaded’ into something deeper, he let his own fingers answer Araceli’s touch, and then move further still. He encouraged her closer, settling himself and leaning in to her warmth. He traced the lines of firelight and shadow on her skin with his lips, helped her out of her clothes carefully, but meaningfully, and soon, infant names — along with his mug, his own clothes, and all other trains of thought — faded to the periphery. Detraeus’ world shrank to include only himself, and Ara, and as the winds around them howled, providing a tuneless backdrop to their love making, they made the most of having space to themselves.

In the aftermath, they slept by the dying firelight, intimately intertwined atop the furs until the first rays of morning spilled across them.