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| this is not a drive by; fluttershy & vinyl | ||
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 7 2012, 07:07 AM (204 Views) | ||
| devotchka | Oct 7 2012, 07:07 AM Post #1 | |
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WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
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The champagne mare snorted, another contraction gathering in her stomach. Pregnancy was entirely new for Fluttershy, and something she hadn’t envisioned herself doing this quickly. Out of all her friends, she thought she’d be one of the last to conceive a child; merely out of her own personal reasons more than anything. Although she loved foals and was always happy to take care of those belonging to other mares, she wasn’t sure if she could deal with the responsibility. However, Mac had seemed a very good partner at the time, and she now had no choice. The Paso Fino felt confident that the draft stallion would do his best to ensure she and the foal were comfortable, and it was reassuring that he had already been a father once before. If it had been both of their first times, she would be a lot more panicked than she was now. Fluttershy’s usual smooth gait that went with her breeding was unsually slow and lumbered as she led the way to the quarry. The contractions had begun a few hours ago, at which point she had found Mac and they had set off from Shiver Glen. The travelling had been rough, not only because of the pain, but the champagne female found herself too nervous to speak to Mac at all. She was shy usually, but she had been dithering other whether the foal was alright she had barely noticed his presence. Having him there was relieving, despite her almost ignorance of him; but Fluttershy had found herself glancing back at the roan every now and again, comforted by the fact he was still following her. Although the draft had not directly requested to come with her, it touched her that he wanted to be there for their foal, right from the very beginning. The quarry was now in sight, it’s thick white cliff walls wrapping round the trees and clearings like a bird’s wing. It had been in the dead of night when they left, and now the morning prime was beginning to flicker on the horizon, sending streaks of pink and orange across the indigo sky. Another contraction rumbled through her abdomen, so strong that the mare had stop, her head hanging, pale rose lips parted as she panted; until it had passed. Glancing up with deep blue eyes at her claimer she smiled weakly, a feeble attempt to pass it off as nothing. She stood for another moment. “Um,” she began, not entirely sure how to put this somewhat delicate subject. “Did you want to wait here or?” She trailed off, her soft voice somewhat stressed. Fluttershy desperately wanted this foal out of her, as soon as was naturally possible, but didn’t feel overly comfortable with Mac watching her do it. Ideally she wanted him a little way away, but close enough for her to call him if she needed his assistance. |
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| mysterious_blue | Nov 10 2012, 06:10 PM Post #2 | |
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![]() link to source It had been tempting, even for the reserved stallion, to break the silence which lingered between them as they travelled, though Macintosh had resisted. The champagne maiden’s middle was distorted by the mass of their child …this was to be Fluttershy’s first and only the stallion’s second foal. The roan wouldn’t admit it to any mare, but he was not yet entirely settled with the concept of fatherhood. He loved Reuben, would do anything to protect the colt – or even the foal which Fluttershy now carried – but it didn’t make him a confident father. Having never known his own sire, he’d been relying on Meridian’s guidance to teach him what a father ought to be to his offspring. It was taking time, and Macintosh felt he’d slowly get used to it … but now he was breaching a completely new subject. The actual arrival of a foal. His attention was diverted to the champagne again. He’d followed her loyally from the moment that she had gone into the initial stages of labour. It was hard to leave his herd – especially Meridian and Reuben while they were still vulnerable – but Fluttershy needed his support. The roan had entrusted his homeland to the care of the herd mares, hoping that somehow the dryads which dwelled in the shivering timbers would somehow help in his absence. But his thoughts were here now, with the maiden who carried his foal as they breached the boarders of the Quarry. Thick feathers flicked around the stallion’s hefty hooves as he was carried forward on a steady stride. Outwardly, he portrayed an image of calm -something he’d perfected while training in his old herd- but his thoughts were filled with worry for Fluttershy and their foal. No stallion could ever truly understand what a mare went through in order to bring a foal into the world, but the pain that the maiden was in unsettled Macintosh greatly. The stallion’s steady pace was broken when Fluttershy was forced to halt from the agony coursing through her distended barrel. He surged forwards, placing his form at the mare’s in moments with his head lowered close to hers and a low whicker rumbling from his chords. Given the mature of both their personalities and the distress which she was obviously in, Macintosh was reluctant to touch the mare for fear of making the ordeal any worse. A small pang of relief hit the stallion’s heart when she seemed to recover a little a few moments later, but his concern remained despite her timid smile. He didn’t know what he could do for the delicate mare; there was no foe to fight, nothing he could physically defend her from and, just to top it off, he was responsible for her pain. Resolutely squashing his own anxieties into silence, the draft devotes his attention to Fluttershy. Her words were hesitant, drawn out by nervous pauses - which wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic of the champagne, though it did help the male to interpret exactly what is was she needed from him. In all honesty, Macintosh would have been just as uncomfortable watching the birth as the dainty mare. His majestic head is given a small nod before he finds the words and parts his jaws. “I’ll wait. But I’ll be here is you need me.” The stallion pushes his muzzle forward, only ever-so-slightly, in a gesture to offer the maiden some reassurance. He had no intention of panicking the female by pressing physical contact upon her, yet he wanted Fluttershy to know that he would be there for her. |
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| devotchka | Nov 11 2012, 09:08 AM Post #3 | |
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WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
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| mysterious_blue | Dec 3 2012, 06:41 PM Post #4 | |
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![]() link to source It was impossible to prevent a low rumble emanating from his chords at the dainty mare’s touch. Macintosh cared for her greatly, and felt responsible for her welfare. Any guilt he harboured about her pain had to be repeatedly squashed, for Fluttershy’s sake. The last thing he wanted to do was unsettle her by appearing nervous himself. There was also an odd temptation to reach out and touch his muzzle to the mare’s distended barrel in the hope of soothing her agony – though, again, he resists. The young stallion cannot help being curious either, though that wasn’t a ruling emotion at the present moment in time. Fluttershy’s single word of confirmation brought only momentarily relief to the young male, managing to avoid the awkward situation of being an onlooker and the mare seemed to be content with the arrangement too. Yet even despite his reluctance, Macintosh would have dutifully stood at the dainty maiden’s side – had it been asked of him. The mare winced again and the stallion had to consciously reduce the degree of worry which crossed his features. He couldn’t eliminate it completely and wouldn’t want to, but Fluttershy had other things to concentrate on. The Paso Fino went to draw away and Macintosh felt just as reluctant to be parted as she appeared to be. His hefty hooves moved him forwards a small step, maintaining the contact just a moment longer before the maiden pulled away. The Ardennes pulled himself into a square halt, eyes fixed on the pale maiden as she headed for the cover of the trees. Her pace was unsteady, her barrel obviously distended and her stride hesitant, but he couldn’t follow her – the birth of their child was something that Fluttershy had to face alone. The stallion is still standing attentively when the maiden throws one last glance over her shoulder and Macinstosh responds with a low whicker, only just strong enough to carry over the distance between them before she disappears. ***** Secions of soft ground close to the Quarry’s boarders had been churned up by the stallion’s vast hooves. The drills of his old regiment were meant to leave an equine weary enough to put an end to any fidgets a horse may have, but not even that could sooth the military stallion. He’d long since put such drills aside and taken to periods of pacing or simply standing and waiting for the mare to reappear. It had been hours since the mare’s reluctant departure, which worried the stallion. He knew nothing about foaling and wasn’t sure just how long it was meant to take. On more than one occasion he had been tempted to follow her scent through the woodland, though he had restrained himself each time. Fluttershy would call if she wanted or needed him … Prime threw long shadows of the trees across the patches of churned ground, the stallion’s prints more or less preserved in the soft earth. His head was thrown about briefly as he paced back and forth, hoping to somehow expend the nervous energy which had been building ever since Fluttershy had gone into labour. Dark strands swatted against his roan hide, his head and neck eventually falling still and settling into a position perhaps just a little lower than he would normally hold himself. Lobes turned occasionally, listening out for any small sound or sign that the pale mare may want him. But no summons came. When, finally, a call did ring out across the quarry, Macintosh reacted instantly. His mane flew around his muscular neck as his head was thrown upwards and eyes turned towards the timbers, instantly focusing on the pale figure emerging from the trees. His pacing was easily converted into a steady jog, his draft heritage providing him with a long enough stride to cover the distance with minimal effort. As he approached, the tiny form of a foal tucked itself under the mare’s barrel and the stallion fell back into a walk. He’d met Reuben when he was very young … but this foal was, at most, little more than a couple of hours old – if that. Macintosh wasn’t sure if he should approach or offer a greeting or simply keep his distance. He decided on something in-between; falling still a couple of feet away from the pair, eventually tearing his eyes away from the gangly newborn to focus on Fluttershy. The stallion kept his hooves more or less planted, only allowing one fore hoof to take a step forward to support his weight as his muzzle was outstretched to the delicate mare. A low whicker offered, almost as if asking permission to advance forward towards his mare and new child. |
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| devotchka | Dec 22 2012, 07:03 AM Post #5 | |
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WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
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