The griffon’s claw traced up the back of his partner, combing her coat slowly before reaching the joint between her wings. He tugged her ever so softly closer to him, and the mare accepted the invitation as she pressed her muzzle against his feathery neck, her hooves wrapped around his shoulders. Her tangled mane tickled his beak, rousing his sense as he tried to readjust his head on the pillow, enjoying the warmth of his love beside him. As much as he would have liked to rest there for longer, to hold this precious mare in his arms, to feel her embrace -- he knew he couldn’t.
The griffon pecked the top of pegasus’s head gently, and retracted his arm unwillingly from around the mare as her hooves slid off his shoulder. He took hold of the corner of the blanket he and she were wrapped in, he slowly peeled it off of him, carefully moving to make sure that he didn’t disturb her. He rolled from off the mattress, and when his paws touched the cold wooden floor -- regret pinged through his mind. He should’ve waited, even if it were for a while longer.
He knew she could be gone at any moment, as was his family before.
But that regret was replaced with the relief of seeing that pegasus sleeping peacefully, bundled in a warm blanket, atop a comfortable mattress. He smiled, turning away hesitantly before he reached to pull his cherkesska over his shoulders, and headed through the door to the rest of their little abode.
The griffon had held a blade many times, though most of his life he held it for only one purpose. It was hard to divorce that part of his life from where he was now, to remind himself that what he had now was only a kitchen knife -- not a sabre. It rose and fell on the chopping board, sectioning a flounder from its head.
He hated the sensation now, but it wasn’t something he wanted to subject his beloved to again, and it was something that needed to be done for their little one.
He skinned the fillet, the griffon quietly started to cut it into smaller pieces. When he finished, he set the blade next to the sink, taking the bits into his talons before he placed it on top of the tray before he slid it into the hot oven. He watched the licking flames for a moment, and eventually returned to the sink to wash the blade and his claws. He stared out the window off in the distance that enveloped the eastern hemisphere.
‘Papa?’ A little voice asked. It drew his attention immediately, the griffon turning to look down at the fledgling hippogriff.
The griffon opened his claws, beckoning his child forward. The fledgling ran forward, throwing out his tiny arms to embrace his father. The griffon leaned down and swept the hippogriff into his arms as he tugged the child into a hug.
‘Taylka, young one,’ the griffon smiled. ‘You need your rest, my fledgling, you’ll spoil yourself--’
‘S-sorry, papa, I just smelled the fish! I wanted to see if it was true!’
‘Aah,’ the griffon laughed. ‘Your curiosity, Taylka! Come take a seat-- is there something you would like to drink?’
‘Cocoa!’ The excited hippogriff exclaimed.
‘Cocoa and fish?’ The griffon raised his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps I can convince you for a tea?’
‘Cocoa, papa!’
The griffon rolled his eyes as he approached the cabinets far out of the reach of the young hippogriff. He withdrew a comparatively small cocoa tin in his claws and a saucepan from off a rack. When he went to open the refrigerator where he would find the milk, the griffon paused as he looked at his little one. Those precious eyes stared at him, leaving him at a pause.
‘Taylka, is something on your mind?’
‘N-no,’ Tayl responded quickly. ‘Well, I guess… I don’t… well…’
The griffon waited patiently and pulled his claws away from the refrigerator as he turned his attention to the little hippogriff. He needed to make sure the little one knew he was listening, and that he was there for him.
‘Papa,’ the griffon already sensed the quivering in Tayl’s voice. ‘M-my friends a-at school, they t-told me t-that…’
That pause stung the griffon’s heart. He stepped forward to meet the fledgling, wrapping his arms around the hippogriff. ‘Shh, shh… hush now, quiet now. It’s okay… it’s okay.’
‘You-you’re my papa, right?’ Tayl started to cry.
That question hurt the griffon, perhaps more than any pain he had ever felt in his life, knowing well the loss of his own family. He couldn’t imagine something more cruel than somecreature telling his little fledgling that they didn’t have a real father. The griffon tried to suppress his anger, trying to hide it as he held Tayl in his arms, squeezing the fledgling.
‘You’re my little Taylka, right?’ The griffon commanded himself to ask.
‘Y-yes…’ Tayl sniffed. ‘B-but you’re papa, right?’
This was a terrible day to have this discussion. Poppy and he… things were complicated by not being the same species. He was familiar with not having a good life, with growing up without examples. It was him and his twin -- his precious little brother -- who he couldn’t even keep alive. He was adamant to do good with something in his life, and so when they talked about this sacred option… it convinced them it was meant to be.
So on the fifth of the third month and many years ago, they brought precious little Tayl into their family a year after his birth.
Today was that sacred day.
‘Hush, little Taylka…’ the griffon hushed. ‘Of course I am. You’ll always have a papa, perhaps not holding you as I hold you now, but right here.’
The griffon pressed against Tayl’s chest, feeling that little heartbeat he would do anything to keep beating. He sat there for a moment, allowing the small fledgling to feel his own heartbeat. It took a few moments, but the griffon was adamant that little Tayl shouldn’t be crying.
‘You feel that?’ The griffon asked.
‘W-what is it?’
‘It is me, mama, your sister -- the voices of all the creatures in the world, crying to remind you that they love you.’ The griffon explained. ‘Here, even though you may not see them or us, you can at least still feel them and us. And if you ever doubt -- press your little claws here -- and you will be reminded.’
Tayl’s little claws pressed against his papa’s to hold them in place. The father and fledgling sat together. He pressed his beak against his son’s, the griffon sat there, convinced it would be for an eternity.
‘Zhenya--’ the mare’s voice cried. ‘Please tell me it is supposed to smell like that!’
Roused to his senses, Gennadi lifted his head back up to the oven -- chastising himself for leaving the fillet in too long. He patted Tayl’s chest once more, before he helped his son back into his seat. Setting off for the oven, the griffon turned down the heat and yanked the fillet out of the oven. He looked at the flounder, praying to the Winged One that it would still taste alright.
‘What is that smell, papa?’ A little zebra asked, stepping around the flank of her mother, rubbing her tired eyes with her forehooves.
‘It is breakfast.’ Gennadi replied. ‘Breakfast for little Taylka. You know what day it is, don’t you, Neemka?’
‘Oh, oh!’ Neema jumped with excitement. ‘It is big Taylka’s birthday!’
‘It is big Taylka’s birthday,’ Poppy smiled. ‘What do we say, Neemka?’
‘Happy birthday!’
Gennadi smiled as the two siblings rushed to embrace each other, watching them as he felt a burning sense of pride well in his bosom. He glanced up to Poppy, who offered him that smile he promised he’d never forget the first day he had seen it -- and promised himself he would see it every day since. He turned back to his meal preparations, looking at the collection of egg, rice, oatmeal, and now cocoa that had piled on the counter top.
To see that love, to see his family?
It was all he needed to be convinced of the world’s beauty.
