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Diagoras

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For the first time in his entire life, Diagoras was lonely. How long had it been since he had parted from the herd? One month, two? Although it didn't appear so, but he was a social being who needed at least one or two other creatures near him. It always seemed that when he wanted solitude, he had company, and when he wanted company, he had solitude. But then again, this isolation was self-inflicted and not at all condoned. Yes, he still brought his kills to the edge of Vico's land and guarded the borders most fiercely but he made sure never to sight another centaur; a fact that greatly perturbed the others. After all, no one blamed the death of the child on himself. Yet he blamed himself, and even thinking of the pale boy's face was a knife wound in his heart. Centaurs should not harbour such feelings for an accidental death. Fate had willed it to be so and the child was in no pain, gone to ground and happy in his resting place. Nevertheless, it pained him to see the indifferent faces of the others. Diagoras did not ponder why they were not affected; no, he pondered why he was. It was time to move on, and he would not ... could not.

Shaken from his pacing, Diagoras lifted his head to sight what had disturbed him; just at the edge of his hearing came the bleating cries of a fawn. Moving with care towards the sound, he soon located the creature and found it alone, trapped in an immense thicket of brambles. Without hesitation, he moved to free the creature who was struggling pitifully. How far does the thicket stretch? thought Diagoras in awe as he stared out across the maze that the fawn was struggling in the midst of. He saw branches as thick as his arm and winding high into the trees. To be cut with one of the thorns would be like being nicked with a dagger. Still, he began to wade his way in towards the animal and flinched often as they whipped at his flanks. If only he had brought his longsword and not his bow that day. "Dia daakhom, de vankez rahl." he called out softly to the fawn in the Old Language, who ceased its struggles but continued to bleat. His deep voice was a comfort to the fawn, but his words did not comfort himself. Diagoras frowned and looked back at the thorns with bloody tips that marked his path inwards. He could not rescue the creature without help, but nor could he leave to seek it lest the fawn's terror grew and it hurt itself further.

(( Translation: "Forest child, be still." ))
 
Days had passed and she found she could not move on from the forest she was now acclimatized too. It was eerie in parts and so beautiful and tranquil in other areas, so unlike the forest she had left behind. After spending much time by the lake washing herself and plaiting different strands of her hair apart for most of the morning as she basked in the sunlight, Dover had come across a bunch of daisies and began making a chain of them to lace in amongst her hair. She had not felt so carefree in ages. The sun had bronzed her skin even further and her hair resembled a glorious white mane beautifully interspersed with the small white flowers.

Finally feeling hunger come upon her she brought herself up and made her way into the forest once again. The noise of children coming from the school to the lake enough of a warning to move along at any rate. Picking the wild berries as she walked along, Dover paused as if she heard something. Trotting slowly in that direction she spied through the branches of a tree Diagoras attempting to free a fawn from a brush. She watched unable to take her eyes from him, the ripple of muscle as his strong hands worked desperately to free the creature.

With a sigh and knowing the creature would have made a delicious meal but was too young to bother with, she prefered the meat of an animal she knew had lived a life at least. Walking towards him she withdrew her broadsword.
"Would this do?" she asked of him, handing it towards him with the hilt facing him.
 
Hearing the snap of a branch further away, Diagoras turned and recognised Dover; the youngling from the small gathering some days ago. He said nothing as she approached but gave a short nod at her offering of her sword and took it, testing its weight. Giving it a light swing, he turned and ambled back into the stinging thorns and began plundering his way through the mess. The sword sung through the air as he hacked the thick branches with even and powerful strokes till he came within several meters of the trapped animal. Looking at the sword, Diagoras patted the hilt absently. It was well made but a little light for his taste. Soon he had buried his arms within the thorny branches and removed the fawn from its entrapment. It began to bleat again and wriggle but he held it firm and lifted it high to make his way back to the waiting Dover with the broadsword still held in his closed fist. Digoras handed it back to the female centaur before setting the fawn down and watching it lope away in a clumsy newborn gait that gave him a rare smile. Surprisingly, it suited his face.

As he looked back to the female, he was surprised to see daisies threaded in her long hair. Curious, he reached out to run his hand over the chain and consequently over a strand of her hair. It was an unintentionally sweet gesture. Not knowing what to make of it, he did not comment, though the surprise stayed on his face. Unlike Dover, Diagoras was fairly pale since he mainly moved at night and rarely ventured near to the open forest. The fawn had called him closer to the edges and into the sun-dappled clearings that gave him colour to his cheeks. He had not said anything yet, but began with a formal "The sun told of us meeting again, and so it has come to pass." Somehow being a centaur of few words made him uncomfortable this time; he wanted to say something that would hold her attention. The loneliness showed in his expression and he had not built the mask to hide it.
 
She watched intently his movements, as he took the sword from her hand silently and with precise motions hacked carefully at the bramble ensnaring the fawn. Dover inhaled deeply remembering fleetingly the alignment of stars she had seen only the day before. She knew at some point she was to meet him again and if she were to be truthful to herself, she would admit that her constant preening all day long had been in the hopes of that meeting being tonight. Fate seemed to want them to meet for whatever reason it had in store. Dover knew that at some point she would have to disclose her true name to him, he had been nothing but kindness to her after all.

With the fawn free at last she smiled as the great centaur released it back into the freedom it so deserved. She wished it a good life as she turned to glance at Diagoras. Surprised when his hand had reached to touch the flowers threaded through her hair and then the hair itself. She did not move away from him, if anything her forelegs took small steps foreward to him. He looked different from before and she could only put it down to the sun breaking through the trees and giving him some shine to his skin. A smile as she ducked her head putting her sword away before glancing back at him once more.
"I know it" she told him in that lilting soft gentle voice that seemed to captivate without intention, "I hoped for it".
She could only be honest with him as she moved aside realizing for the first time in her life she actually felt shy around a centaur.
 
Once again he was surprised by her moving closer and was suddenly uncomfortable. Yes, he had seen the way that the stars had moved in their natural rhythm and he had been curious as to their predictions, but he wasn't entirely sure of what he was to do in their situation. The planets meant for the two of them to interact; but how? About what? Diagoras was used to other centaurs speaking rarely to him and never coming into close contact, especially so since he had not spoken to one in quite some time. The newest foals of the herd liked to keep him company though, and perhaps it was noticeable that he was more comfortable in the company of the young to be able to teach them and guide them in the ways of the elders. Suddenly he recalled little Ferriah making a daisy chain and placing it in his hair. He reddened, recalling how foolish he had felt but unable to say no to the laughing children who took great delight in making the big man look pretty in a garland. The same daisies that were threaded into Dover's hair. It was all connected.

Embarrassed and not well versed in the art of conversation, Diagoras moved back slightly to let her sheath her sword. His forearms and flanks were burning, and he wiped the blood from them in irritation. A good knot of herbs would have done him good, but he stayed silent for the urge to appear without pain and impressive was overwhelming the annoyance. I am not trying to impress her, he told himself in a rare moment of stubbornness. I just ... think it unnecessary, that is all. "You have ventured far in these past few days. Are you planning on seeking shelter here longer?" inquired Diagoras, tucking his hands behind his back so as to not make the mistake of touching her hair again. It wasn't that she'd rejected him, but that she had accepted the touch; reddening again, he focused on the question. He did not draw attention to the fact that firstly they had been traveling slowly in a similar pattern and secondly that he was asking whether she would be staying longer.
 
She continued to watch him suddenly becoming aware of his distancing himself from her, her pride hurt extremely at that. She had not meant to be so forward in her manner towards him. Glancing away confused by her own behavior Dover sighed gently before looking back at him as he spoke. Her shrewd eyes watching as he furiously wiped blood from his arms. The briars had torn at his skin when he had been helping the fawn to get free and the wounds looked far from healing. Checking her flanks she saw the small pouch she needed and slowly unhooked it cantoring once more towards him. Her movements now were careful, almost cautious and steady as if she were afraid she would startle the great centaur.

Within the small pouch was a paste she frequently renewed, made especially for it's healing properties. A very old remedy her mother had been shown by her mother, passed down like her broadsword through the female line. Slowly she walked to his flank.
"I will not hurt you" her voice was gentle yet reassuring as her gentle hands massaged the paste into the parts of his side that had been torn by the large thorns.

Her fingers tingled from the contact with his skin and desperately she tried not to flounder in her task. The wounds could easily fester if not seen to properly. Once done she moved before him and with a smile lifted one of his muscular forearms as she began to tenderly rub the paste there as well. She did not once dare look up at him for fear he would see her blush.
"I like it here but it is not my home, then again I have no home to speak of" her fingers caressed the strong powerful arm making sure the paste was soaking into the cuts, "I would stay... if I had reason too."
Still she could not look up at him as she lowered that arm and reached for the other, her face passing before his own as her eyes fixated only on the arm that needed healing.
 
The female seemed to have read his mind, though really she had simply read his face. Fearing contact again, Diagoras tried to move back once more as she approached but found himself quite unable to resist the lure of healing; pain made him irritable and he was sure to say something unkind when covered in scratches as he was. He allowed Dover to come closer with the herbs he had noticed tied at her side. Understanding that she wouldn't hurt him but still being unnerved by her touch, he coughed gruffly as a sign for her to continue and allowed himself to be healed. Her soft hands on the dark brown hair at his sides made him stamp a hoof every now and then as he enjoyed it far too much to be proper. The sooner it was over, the better. Luckily for Diagoras, whatever stinging the medicine gifted him kept his mind clear and his face calm, having dealt with worse wounds in the past.

Dover would not look at him in case he saw her blush, but Diagoras was undeniably and openly red as the setting sun. Old centaurs tended to be a little pink around the cheeks since the blood flowed richer with age, but he was not yet old enough for that to be an excuse. He simply ignored it and listened to what she said. It was even harder when she touched his arms. "This forest is well protected," he replied, flicking his tail once or twice. "If you chose to stay, I ... that is, we would make it so that you did not fear the wrath of earthly creatures." said Diagoras, rubbing his arms where her hands had been, unconsciously. He was exasperated by the unresolved tension between them that was causing the very air to heat. His right foreleg brushed by her and he started, frowning to himself inwardly. Old fool ... he thought. After a moments silence he sighed and gave in. "Why do you blush so?" asked Diagoras, lifting his large hand to cup her cheek as if she might be ill or tired. She certainly felt hot, but not fever-hot.
 
She gazed up at him then, his words sent a shiver through her. She did not care for the wrath of any creatures; what she cared for and it was becoming most evident the longer she stayed in his presence, was him. His hand touched her face, sliding around so his large palm cupped her cheek. Feeling the heat of her skin against his cool hand she pressed her cheek deeper into the groove of his palm, closing her eyes as she did so. The long blonde lashes curling down to hide the pale blue eyes that when finally opened once more stared into the pools of his own soul.
"Do you not know?" her voice was barely a whisper now. Her tail swhished out behind her as her legs gently stomped the ground bringing her closer again to him. The brief contact of earlier had sent her trembling as if she were some fragile creature. There was nothing at all fragile about her, save the heart that seemed to have sped up on closer contact with Diagoras.

Lifting a hand of her own up slowly she placed hers as he had against his cheek, her head tilting as she watched his reaction to her touch.
"Do you truly not know?" her eyes now looked from his eyes along his proud nose to his full lips that when curved into a smile was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever beheld and there they lingered as her teeth bit down gently on her lower lip. Lifting her gaze to meet his eyes once more she felt breathless and wanted only to be held in the embrace of those strong arms.
 
Why does this recognition come so swiftly? thought Diagoras almost imploringly at the fading light of the day. He had seen her close her eyes at his own touch and her cheek felt perilously breakable in his hand. Unconsciously he moved closer, wondering why the shifting of the universe had brought them together so suddenly and with no warning other than the increased thumping of blood in their veins. So instantaneously struck was Diagoras that he could help but close his own eyes when she reached out to touch his skin as well. Even sightless, he felt her eyes roaming his features and it was so foreign, so welcome. How close had he ever come to another centaur like this? None that he could recall in his many years in the flesh. She was trembling, and it was on instinct that he moved closer still, till they were almost chest to chest. He longed to place his arms around her ...

Diagoras suddenly recalled the very reason he had not felt the beating of another's blood near his for so long; why he had been keeping to himself and allowing no one to see him except to exchange vital news and to trade. This was his eternal and self-inflicted punishment for the slaying of the boy. His arm had almost come around her waist, but now his fist clenched and he drew it back. Sickly guilt struck him in the gut like a dagger, and it was with great difficulty that he replied "I do understand," and stepped back. It had been close - too close, and it was time to leave before the planets tested him with another temptation such as Dover. After all, she must just be a temptation; why should anyone so young and vibrant want to be close to him? And if it was true, then it would not be for long if she discovered just why he was holding himself back so brutally. Then she would abhor him. Diagoras turned his back and trotted a few steps, leaning heavily against a tree and staring at the ground. Unbeknownst to him, his arm was shaking as it rested on the bark. This must not happen again.
 
She had felt so alone now for so long that being this close to another centaur was like mana. She sighed gently as he closed his eyes at her touch. Wanting only to stay with him now Dover knew there were some truths she had to admit too first. Of course she had told him of her own tribe that night with the other two centaurs but she had not told him everything. Had not given her true name, had not told of her parents demise or her brothers. When it appeared as if her wish to have him hold her was to be fulfilled she smiled and then it halted on her perfect rosebud mouth. His words and his actions spoke of something else entirely, as if he knew she liked him but his feelings were not the same. Embarressed she stepped back as well, her face flushing a bright crimson once more but now for a different reason completely.

Attempting to breath was suddenly very difficult for her and she went to turn from him when she noticed he had stopped by a nearby tree. Watching the motions of his body she knew something was not right and silently she trotted over to him. She would not allow herself to simply lose him so quickly. Her hands tenderly cupped his face lifting it up to look at her.
"Speak to me, do not shut me out. What ails you?" he was always alone like she was, a strange occurance in any centaurs life. Her hands stroked his face gently as she spoke to him, "Speak to me Diagoras."
 
Was Dover to be his new torment? It was as if the world had decided that his isolation was not enough and that he should be thrown a bait to be torn painfully away from him. Sighing, Diagoras told himself that he deserved all that he got. Nevertheless, he could not handle having her so near; when she touched his face, his anger at himself and at the world grew and he gripped her hand fiercely, throwing it aside. His green and grey eyes turned stormy like a wind-swept ocean as he glared at Dover; then relaxed. None of this was her fault. Diagoras approached apologetically and lay a hand onto her shoulder, the contact distant and sad. "Forgive me," he said, his deep voice low and melancholy. Perhaps he should speak of what was tormenting him; like an arrow to a limb, her company would need to be ripped away at some point and it was better now then later. As soon as she heard his story, Diagoras was sure she would flee in disgust. He would be free to mourn, alone again.

"I have been ... troubled lately by a careless act that I committed a half-turn of the moon ago." he said, speaking slowly and lowering his hand from her shoulder so that he could take her hand between both of his. "I was hunting near the edges of Vico's land when I sighted and struck a small woodland creature." Diagoras' eyes grew darker. "It was no beast, but a man. Not even that ... a small human boy." He gripped her hand too hard then and released it swiftly for fear of hurting Dover. "I knew the child whose life mate I had taken. I still hear her cries in my memory." The pain was visible on every pale line on his face. Not even the sun brightened his skin any more. "Such a thing was bound to happen, and I am not blamed. But I should be." Looking to Dover, Diagoras' eyes calmed and became distant. "That is why this-" he gestured to the air between them, still shifting the force of their recognition. "-cannot happen. I ... can not ..." he fell silent, unable to continue. It was enough, though. She knew; and she would soon leave. Like an arrow from a wound, it must be removed swiftly.
 
She became startled when he gripped her hand so tightly and flung if from him, the action caused her more pain that she wanted to admit to. That he could fling her away so easily, but she was nothing to him it did not matter what she felt or what she had read from the stars; Diagoras obviously felt differently. But then he was laying a hand on her shoulder and she became so confused. His voice when he spoke was so sincere and sad that she did not move his hand as she had been tempted too. When he began to speak he moved his hand once more, clasping hers now in the fold of his strong palms. He relayed the heart breaking story and she could see now quite clearly why he felt the need to keep himself apart from his kin. She would have whimpered in pain as he squeezed her hand tightly but then releasing it he carried on with his tale.

Dover watched his every move, heard every word and felt deeply for him.
"You cannot what exactly?" she stayed back from him only to give him the space he seemed to need though she ached desperately to reassure him, "Have you not taken the entire blame and guilt on yourself? Offer up a sacrifice for the childs soul to cross over peacefully but do not hold yourself apart from your tribe. It was an accident and a child's life was lost. Someday you will learn to live with this guilt but it does not have to be a life lived on your own. You are a good and kind centaur, brave and noble. Make your peace with the girl" she told him quietly as slowly she raised a hand around chest height, holding it out towards him palm seeking the touch of his palm. She was trying to tell him she would not be his judge, he had found been his own judge and jury and executioner for long enough.

"Do not push me away Diagoras".
 
'Do not push me away'. Her words pained him deeper than his outward wounds and deeper still than his guilt. Why could she have not made this simple for them both? Diagoras had told his story yet still she remained; he had even pushed her away several times. How could he show her that he did not deserve even a glance? Hopelessly he bowed his head, seeking an answer within the depths of his soul. The answer made itself known more swiftly than he could react to; 'Is not love unconditional, unconquerable?'. Ahh. So that was what the alignment of the heavens was trying to reveal. Dover had seen and accepted it far swifter than he had, for Diagoras was often stuck into old habits. These courting rituals and recognition belonged to other centaurs and had for many years; no wonder he had not recognised it when it was his turn. Such grace was bestowed upon him, but it was still too early for him to accept it being given to him. For now ... for now he would let her near, and accept that he could not change their hearts. Then only time would tell whether the stars had moved correctly.

Lifting his hand without looking up, he placed his palm against her outstretched one gently, hesitant at first but then linking their fingers and glancing up to meet her eyes. He then took a step forward, and another till they were as close as they had been. This time, Diagoras appeared almost reverent, as though he were touching something holy and was desecrating it by a mere look. His movements collected and calm but his fingers trembling nevertheless, he lowered his head and pressed his cheek against hers, smelling the honey-like flowers in her hair. "Forgive me," he said again in a soft voice by her ear. "I do not deserve this, but I cannot say no."
 
She had believed all her life in the maps of the stars in connection with her existence, they weren't an exact science of course and often predictions that were told one day were vague the next. But for a while now she had known she was to meet another, her heart was to be entwined with his and try as she might she could not shake the thought that Diagoras was with whom her heart was to remain. Not sure whether or not he would touch her hand she waited and finally he did reach, tentative at first as he slowly moved closer. The contact of palm against palm felt like a sacred union to her and as much as she wanted to smile, this moment did not call for it. There was no victory here, this was simply two lost souls reaching for the other. Finding a comfort where there had been none before. Their fingers locked around the others and closer they moved still, until they stood cheek to cheek, palm to palm and heart to heart. She closed her eyes as he spoke.
"Should all your years of bravery and gallantry, of kindness and loyalty be wiped out in place of a tragic incident? You are more deserving than you know, it is I that falls short of being deserving of you" she moved her face and touched his nose with her own, gently rubbing the tip on his. The intimacy of such a slight caress lost possibly on humans but divine amongst centaurs.
 
Dover was a force that came the closest that anything ever had to vanquishing the pain in his soul. It was not yet gone, and Diagoras wished it to remain so lest he forget about the dangers of carelessness, but it hurt him no longer as he felt her skin on his. So many dark spots in his life fell with the power of their union; his loneliness, his discomfit with his own strength, his shy ways and so many other qualms bowed to her love. In the touching of their hands, Diagoras felt her loneliness also and sought to drive it away by the shield of his arms. He decided then that she would wander his forest alone no longer, for he would wander beside her for however long she would have him near. Could she feel the flutter of his eyelashes near her when she touched her nose to his? To have never received a hug in fifty years and suddenly be sharing this moment with a beautiful, understanding centaur was turning his world around. The sun was much brighter, the birds singing higher and no one could look more devastating than Dover at that moment.

"Iranai," said Diagoras "Verna." Both names came unbidden to his mind, the first meaning gentle dove in the Old Language and the second because her true name. Both were known involuntarily, most mysteriously of all being the name she knew but had not spoken to him of. It was almost as if he didn't know he had said them at all. "Who is to say what a centaur deserves? Surely the worst judge of such a thing is the centaur themselves." As he spoke, they were so close that his lips would brush over hers at every word. His arms came around her waist and brought them closer so that their forelegs were touching. "But I will walk with you till the world's end." Diagoras then took a tightly curled lock of his own hair in hair and removed his dagger. With a short 'snip', the lock fell free and he lifted it before her eyes. Such an act was like a blood oath for their kind. "On this I swear it." He wound the soft hair into her hand, leaned in ... and kissed her. He had never done so to another centaur in all his years on earth.
 
She was startled that he said her name, her given name. No one should have known that not around here any how and yet it eased her as well. As if the stars had shown her completely to him, her true name included. She smiled at the endearment he issued to her and knew without a doubt that she had met and was in the presence of her soul mate. As he spoke his mouth lightly brushed over hers with each word, Dover had never felt the touch of another centaurs lips on her own. Had often shown mutual affection among her kin with the gentle brushing of the nose but this feeling far surpassed any she had experienced before.

The feel of his strong arms now encircled about her waist gave her the feeling of protectiveness and security she had not felt since her father had been killed. Her own hands glided up the muscles of his arms, sliding across his broad chest and resting there. She could feel the erratic beating of his heart and knew it matched her own as if they were beating for the other.As he cut a lock of hair and passed it to her, swearing himself to her she smiled attaching the lock to a tress of her own hair, winding it in and securing it firmly before taking out her own small blade and cutting off a piece of her own hair.

She held this up to him, her pale blue eyes smiling at him.
"And I will walk with you till world's end, I swear it" As they kissed she melted against him, her mouth moved so slowly unsure of it's occupation but desiring this strange contact with him none the less.
 
It seemed to Diagoras that he had hit the epitome of joy at the moment their lips touched. He had experienced many happy times in his long life, but none had so literally taken his breath away as this moment. Base instinct took over and his kiss seemed to become a physical embodiment of his spirit; both gentle and passionate all at once. His tongue touched hers and he sighed, bringing his hands up to cup her cheeks so as to kiss her better. He could get quite used to physical intimacy. Unfortunately, inexperience had him forget to breathe, and a minute later he was forced to break away with deep pants and a dizzy head. The colour had certainly returned to his cheeks and he smiled in amazement at her. Diagoras had smiled twice in one day - the wonders never ceased. The lock of hair in his hand was beautiful soft, and he wound it around his wrist and tied it there carefully. Later, it would be braided into a broach and set so that it would hold his cloak by his heart; as all such rituals were completed with. There was one last thing for him to do, also.

Brushing her cheek with his hand as he passed, Diagoras walked around Dover and brushed the entire length of his body around hers, secretly reveling in the feel of her white hair on his dark flanks. It was a symbol of unity but also served a practical purpose of scenting, so that those who smelt her would know she was his. Then he returned to face her, feeling like a hulking brute next to her slender and supple frame. Diagoras lifted her hand between his and kissed it, then paused. There was a strange feeling in the air, as if something had been left unsaid that needed to be spoken. Wondering at it, his dark brows came down over his eyes and he looked at his mate inquiringly. "You have ... a story yet to be voiced?". Once again, he couldn't explain how he knew and so didn't try.
 
The kiss was beautiful and intense and she wanted to repeat it at her leisure again and again. Why no one had ever told her of this kind of intimacy she did not know but it was beautiful. Like he, she too was strange to the delights of their lips joined in union, forgot to breathe effectively and was lightheaded when they finally pulled apart. She could not take her eyes from him, thrilled when he brushed his cheek against hers and gasped when he walked along side her. Their flanks brushed against one anothers and she could not explain the shivers and tremors that raced through her as if her every emotion had gone into hunter mode. Fiercely racing wildly within her.

She was his now, he was hers and the thought was a comforting one. As he came to stand before her taking her hand and kissing it she could not help but feel the consuming love that rocked her very core.
"I have" she told him, looking to their joined hands and not knowing where to begin, "I told you of my tribe... but I did not tell you that my father Sorenson was the tribal leader. Our chieftain. He was challenged for the title by another and he lost. He was killed as is the custom when such a challenge is issued but..." she glanced up at him then, the pain in her eyes evident as if she were once again reliving the deaths of her mother and her brother. Her screams loud and clear as they plunged their broadswords into her, his angry yells as he attempted to stop them until they had laid him to waste as well.
"His followers killed my mother and brother, I was spared only because he desired me."
her voice broke and she lowered her head unable to speak any more.
 
Her story was shattering for Diagoras, who could see the same pain in his love's eyes as was in the child's, Artemis. It had not hit him as hard as it did then, but Dover's was an age-old pain that he could not take away with words alone. He had killed and she had seen slaughter, and suddenly he felt like a villain again. How terrible it must have been to see her nearest relatives struck down before her very eyes, their life spilling to the earth. Her last words made his blood boil with a passionate fury also; what kind of centaur had the immoral indecency to strike out only for rank and spare one for their fleshly desires? It made him ill to think of, and he kicked his back hooves once or twice in agitation. But Diagoras stopped as he saw the look in her eyes; the withered look of a centaur who had suffered much pain that could not be healed so swiftly. This was not a time for anger, but for mourning and renewal.

"And you say that I have lived a life of bravery," he said with sad humour, running a large hand through her hair. Stepping forehead, he lifted his arms to embrace her properly, laying her head on his chest and resting his chin in her hair. "I have never seen such courage from another in all the years I have lived. In battle, in birth, in sickness ... none compare to you." It wasn't like Diagoras to speak so much, or with such earnest and pure honesty, but before Dover he was entirely undone and his soul was bared for her eyes alone. "Mivrah takil et saht caarver." he said softly with the hand in her hair running slowly down her back almost absently. "Irani. Do not let it hold your spirit captive any longer." Not being confident with comforting words, Diagoras felt that he had spoken too much and had sounded foolish. But still he held fast to her and told her what he could not by his all-encompassing arms that were as strong as an oak bough.

(( Translation: "Even this day took courage." ))
 
She smiled at his praise of her but shook her head lightly, her blond locks tumbling about her shoulders as she did so. His hand then ran through her hair lightly and she felt calmed by his touch.
"I am not brave. I could have tried to stop them, to do something but I didn't. I ran, I tried to save my own life" she hung her head low, the shame of it all returning to her. His hand trailed down her back and now it was her turn to move from him, now he would know her for what she truly was, a coward. His strong arms held her tight as if he had expected as much but she managed somehow to extricate herself from their powerful grasp.

"I am not worthy of your praise or your affections though I give mine to you so willingly. I look ..." she raised her hands, her proud chin rising a notch as she looked at him, "I look so pure and so good and yet I am not" the tears that filled her eyes she tried to push back but they finally would have their way. For too long she had hidden this truth in her heart, she had run and run from the pain of all she had witnessed and all she had deemed bad in herself and this then was where it had all been leading her.
"I have no courage at all".
 
When Dover slipped out of his arms, his own were still raised palm-upwards to hers as if calling her back into his protective embrace. But she did not come forward again, and Diagoras let his hands fall to his sides, watching her with a plea in his gaze. It struck him how blind centaurs could be, for all their worldly knowledge and supposed insight. For all this, where was their common sense? For common sense dictated that if Dover had not fled when she had, she would now be slave to the whims of her family's killer and not free to go where she willed and to find him. He sighed, touching the lock of hair tied to his wrist without thinking. "You have a strange view of what courage is, beauty." he told her, cautiously taking a step forward. "I believe ... that it takes more courage to resist revenge than it does to indulge in it ... and that it takes more courage to not give in to the urge to lay down and accept slavery ... and even more yet to flee in order live with dignity as a last tribute to your fallen kin." said Diagoras. In his next action he did not hesitate, or allow her to pull back. He took her left hand and linked their fingers tightly, another symbol of union.

The silence was calming rather than chilling, the Spring air cool and and pleasant against their skin. For the moment he simply stood and breathed in her scent and he knew that she could smell him, too. She smelt familiar; like home. Slowly Diagoras looked up into her fathomless eyes, wishing to touch her but not daring. "And did you know ... you have the rest of your life to live in a way that would make your foremother and father proud. With me." he said, voice as gentle as his touch. "And when you have no courage, I will give you mine." He felt embarrassed by the intensity in his voice but felt that it was too important to say it otherwise. Verna...
 
He spoke again to her and reached for her hand, this time she did not hesitate but linked her fingers with his own. She knew the words he spoke were truth and at first she could not let them take root within her because as much as this had all made sense to her when she had first taken flight, the act itself had shortly after become almost a betrayal of her kin. Such a betrayal that it had eaten away at her relentlessly for the past few weeks. As his words echoed softly into the space between them, Dover moved a little closer. Desiring to believe the truth he spoke and when he continued she knew without a doubt that she had met her mate for life. That she had met her other half, the mirror to her soul.

Releasing his hand from hers she stared into his eyes, it seemed like forever passed as she peered into the depths of his soul and then her arms were about his waist and she was snuggling in close to his chest. His comforting heartbeat pounding loudly as if speaking her name. Her name... the thought made her realize that he had spoken it earlier without her having told him. She knew not how he knew but did not question it either.
"I am Verna" she whispered, "the spring of hope, the renewal and rebirth. You are my courage and I am your light."
 
The contentment that flooded through him as she put her arms around him could have surpassed his joy in their kisses or their promises on the locks of hair. It felt like a great weight had lifted from Diagoras' shoulders when he saw that what he had said had gotten through. His arms came around her in return and he pressed his lips into her hair, wanting nothing more than to stay in her embrace forever. How could he have lived so long without her touch and not wasted away? Now he knew why centaurs mated for life; there was no other but her. She spoke and he smiled, running his hands over her arms softly. "And what a light you are. If the sun had its day and was gone from the sky, I need only to look into your eyes to see it again." said Diagoras, taking her palm and kissing it.

The presence of another creature registered, and he looked to the side to see the rescued fawn nuzzling at Dover's side. The fawn nudged its away around their legs and snuffled as if they had food of some kind. Soon a low call sounded from the bushes nearby and the doe stepped out, nickering to its offspring to rejoin it. He watched then fawn wobble back merrily. At that moment, the doe lifted her head and eyed both centaurs with the fawn halfway between them both. Then it turned and drew the fawn away to disappear into the forest. For a time, Diagoras stared at the slight gap in the foliage that marked the two creature's entrance into the clearing. It was a sign that touched him deeply, and he wondered if he had interpreted it correctly. Doe and fawn, mother and child. The Season of Foaling was approaching. He blinked, then crushed the notion. As if Dover ... with him ... No, the sign must have been misread. Diagoras went red around the cheeks and looked back at Dover then stared at his hooves.
 
She felt at last as if she had found her new home, knew she had a certain wolf to thank for leading her this way and the stars for guiding her further. His words caused her to smile further as he then took her hand and kissed the palm. There were no words that she could use to express what she felt and though she wanted to express it somehow the moment seemed all but gone as the fawn and it's mother came before them. Dover smiled as she gazed upon the scene, she had never before contemplated her own family. Had always been too caught up in the hunt and the excitement of her age but now with the exile she had enforced upon herself, made her realize just what it was that was most important. Her pale blue eyes looked to Diagoras who was intently looking at the creatures and she smiled. Knowing exactly what season this was, knowing exactly how she felt for him and he for her. Could there not be a more beautiful proof of that love than by bringing one of their own into the world?

She noted the color to his cheeks and found it most endearing. A gentle hand lifted to touch his cheek, pressing her cool palm against it as she guided his face to look at her.
"We are no longer alone for we now have one another" moving closer so they were pressed together, she kissed his mouth tenderly. Her fingers sliding down across his neck and over his shoulders. Gliding across his chest and returning to his face once again. All so slowly and all as she kissed him tenderly. As her lips left his she smiled once more.
"I have always wanted at least three younglings, two males and a female" she grinned at him, her lips finding his once more. Again she spoke as she broke apart the union of mouths, "I think our offspring would be beautiful and awe inspiring, powerful and strong, wise and wonderful just like their father".
 
Diagoras knew that Dover was no fool, and that the doe and fawn had not slipped by her at all. She was smiling at him and he cursed the blush on his cheeks. Perhaps she did not appear to be adverse to the idea of ... of mating with him, but it was his own inexperience that was getting the better of his nerves. Truth to be told, the mating rituals and other such knowledge he had never paid attention to; perhaps as a young stallion but never as he grew older. There never seemed much point to it without a lovemate. Diagoras was very strong and he feared hurting his lifemate or causing her displeasure. Yet once again, the touch of her hand brought him back to reality, and in reality they were simply two centaurs in love who wanted to spend the rest of theirs lives together and leave children behind as proof of their devotion. Diagoras sighed. When their foals were much older, perhaps they might ask how they came to be. He could then tell them that they were born of love, not of fleeting fancy and a romp in the woods. Their mother and father, lifemates forever; it was the best gift he could give to the next generation.

She kissed him and he shuffled his back hooves, a new feeling stealing over him that made his skin tingle under her fingertips. When she slid her hands over his neck he groaned softly, the sound swallowed into her kiss. He had to blink and clear his head to answer "Yes, three. Three is a favourable number." Then he was swept away into another of Dover's kisses, returning in heavily. Diagoras lifted his hands and ran them down her sides till his fingers touched white hair. He pressed a deep kiss into the side of her neck, only drawing breath to answer. "Aye, perhaps they might. But why should they not also be beautiful and passionate, wild and kind like their mother?" he said, running his nose along her jawline. His hand stroke her face for a moment before taking her hand in his. Diagoras smiled. "Will you take a walk with me?". He moved around to stand beside her and gently rubbed his flanks against hers. The rituals could wait till dusk; perhaps there was time for a romp.
 
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