Little does he know, but she was in the very same place not too long ago. Her history was not a pretty one, especially before she met Metaphor. The stallion that been the one person who appreciated her for her, not simply because of her skill in battle. Metaphor saw her true self and he helped to bring her mind out of the darkness. But when she had thought she lost him, there was a time that she too had thought about meeting her end just so she could be with him again. But there was something that told her to keep living, and she was so very grateful when Metaphor walked back into her life.
She tries to direct the conversation onto whatever was on his chest. It weighed so heavily on him and even though she might not know the details just yet, she can see the way it burdens him. Was this what she looked like when she thought she had lost Metaphor forever? Was this what she looked like when she thought of her daughters?
Anzhelo is what he calls himself and Katniss is quick to lock away the name with the face. She’s trying her best to get to know the others who call Denocte home. After all, it was her job as soldier to protect them all. How could she protect them if she doesn’t -know- them?
And then he’s beginning his story and Katniss listens with an open and sincere heart. He speaks about his birth and claims that he killed his mother from simply being born. It softened the maternal side of Katniss, the side that also made her wonder if her daughters resented her. She leaned towards him, brushing against his shoulder to let him know that she felt for him. “You did not kill your mother, Anzhelo. Birth is hard, challenging, and is not kind to every mother or child.” She knew of other mothers who died in childbirth as well as babies born not breathing. She thought back to her own chance at motherhood and knew that it was certainly challenging and trying.
But before she could say anything further, he continues with his story and Katniss is a captive audience. She listens to him, knowing that based on his non-verbal body language, his story is nothing funny, but more than likely serious and sad. She quiet as he talks of his daughter and her delivery, of his father, and of the gods she’s always been cautious around.
His body language says that he is angry, the way his ears flatten against his skull. She’s felt the same - after her daughters were born. It took her a very long time to be okay with the Gods, to even worship them. But it is his last words that has her softening towards him. “If you are, then so am I.” Her voice is soft, comforting even. She tries to offer a touch to his shoulder, to let him know that she’s being genuine.
She waits a moment, hoping that her words will get his attention and sustain it. When she’s sure she has his attention, she begins a story of her own, hopefully one that would give him courage and hope. “When I was young, I was innocent in the ways of romance. A young, golden stallion stole my heart, or so I believed. I believed his sweet nothings, allowed him to make me bend at the knees. But then, the Gods played a cruel, sick joke on me.” She paused, looking at him with a softened gaze. “After he left me alone after our lust-driven coupling, within minutes I began to swell with child. Twenty minutes was all it took from conception until the start of labor. I was young, scared, and left alone. I didn’t know what was happening to me. In fact, I didn’t understand what was happening.” She paused again, reliving the memories that she had tried so hard to forget. But she was hoping that through her pain, he might find comfort. “Twenty minutes was all it took for two precious daughters to lay on the earth side-by-side.” She closed her eyes softly, only briefly before they fluttered open so she could see where she was walking. “I couldn’t grasp what had just happened. I left them there, returning to my home and never looking back.” The two precious, innocent foals had been left to die.
She paused her footsteps as she looked him deep into the eyes. A single tear had formed in the corner and she felt the weight of her guilt all over again. “I don’t even know if they are alive, but I think about them everyday, wondering what would have happened if I had been the mother they needed. They are probably dead, died just days after their birth. I regret that day, and blame myself every day sense.” She sighed softly, heavily. “That was nearly seven years ago. I’ve grown since then, matured into something my mother would have been proud of. But that decision I made will haunt me forever. But if I let those memories bring me down, I cannot be the warrior I was meant to be. When I finally stopped torturing myself, I found something quite special - someone named Metaphor. He is the only one, aside from you, that knows my darkest secret.” She pauses as her eyes are brought to his. He would be able to see the regret she carries and yet, there is hope there for the future.
Slowly she begins to walk on, leading him further down the path to his own recovery. “I have hope now, that I might right my wrongs. Something good will come of your past, you just have to be open to it. And when it finds you, you will be the happiest you’ve ever been.” She had that with Metaphor. Despite all that she had been through, he was still along her side, right where he was meant to be.
@Anzhelo
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