Hideaway Strath one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan
hämähäkki, muodonmuuttaja, satakieli
310 Posts
Ooc — KJ
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@Arturo

NOTE: In Lotte’s personal timeline, this takes place directly after this thread.

In the midst of the commotion, Lotte abruptly and silently takes her leave. Everything suddenly seems so loud and open — although her voice had been the loudest one present, and although she had found the press of the Family heartening only moments before, now she just wants to get away. She flattens her small, bearlike ears against the echo of the pack’s voices and melts into the shadows — an easy feat for her, as the faint light of the stars is swallowed up by the matte quality of her colorpoint pelage. Her black-masked face is furrowed with concentration and her sides heave as she pants raggedly, overheating from the fever born of stress, pain, and exhilaration. Still, she moves with fluid intensity, for the moment free of the gripping, twisting cramps that contort her spine and cloud her judgment. Her surefooted paws are too weary and heavy to be silent, and they move haphazardly to churn up the earth or push aside low-hanging boughs. She is, to all appearances, looking for something — but the something in question is something she doesn’t even know she’ll recognize upon sight. A whine tangles in her throat as she pokes her snout into a fallen log.
he's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone
630 Posts
Ooc — Phi
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#2
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Everything had been ready for the birth of their children in Ravensblood: the den he’d claimed has served as an excellent, well protected birthing den for Lotte and now they had to start over from scratch with a tiny window frame to work with. Resentment is a constant companion to the gangster these days, as he looks at how much he has sacrificed, how much he has asked Lotte and The Family to sacrifice for Olive and Dakarai. So they could live their lives with their healthy children unburdened. The sense of injustice hit him with a crushing blow. No. No, it would not stand. Disgraced was not punishment enough and true to form they would receive a trial before The Family. The Family as a whole would decide what their true punishment should be — it is the way Teaghlaigh is expected to work and he was done protecting when all he has gotten is stabbed in the back and backed into a corner. But that would come. He notices Lotte break away from the group and without conscious thought Ceannasach follows her. He only hopes that through all of this that she and his children survive. He worries: he worries that in his plight to make a safer home for them he may be their death. It is a wretched feeling that he will not be able to cease until they are born and he can ascertain for himself that they are all healthy. Arturo does not speak upon his approach, choosing to give her space as she pokes her nose into a fallen log. He does not seek to ruin her concentration or potentially end up on the receiving side of her ire as her hormones and emotions rage within her.
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wreathed in iron and in fire
i bare my bloody teeth
and only pity makes my strike so clean
hämähäkki, muodonmuuttaja, satakieli
310 Posts
Ooc — KJ
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#3
It is intuition and not any particular lack of stealth on Arturo’s part that causes Lotte to whip around, defensively swiveling her hips so that she stands at a slight diagonal to the imagined assailant with every tooth in her mouth spelling out malice in glittering alabaster. When she discovers that it is her husband and not a threat, though, she feels — a little embarrassed, honestly. Her moods have been so erratic; not even she can keep up with herself. “I love you,” she blurts out, the lingering growl ticking in her throat turning her promise of affection guttural and gruff. “I have to — ” Her attention flicks distractedly toward the log for a second investigative glance, but it is not to her liking and she vents her frustration in a typically physical way; turning fully to Arturo, she butts her head insistently against him so that his chin rests atop her crown. She lingers this way for only the space of a moment before pressing deeper into the strath’s heart.

She is trying not to panic, but the urgency she feels is dizzying — overwhelming.

Two more logs and a strange rock formation are similarly investigated and rejected, and Lotte turns to her husband with a worried expression as she licks at her dry, cracked lips. She is thirsty and feverish, her pelt dusty from travel and her thin-stretched sides aching abominably. For a moment, the search is abandoned as she meanders back to the riverside with Arturo presumably in tow and drinks deeply.
he's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone
630 Posts
Ooc — Phi
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#4
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Arturo cannot say he fully understands her need to nest. He understands that a birthing den is necessary to the survival of the children, of course. It keeps Lotte safe while she ushers them into the world, and it keeps the children safe while they are helpless: able to sleep and nurse. That part he understands well enough, but it is urgency that moves his love, desperation. He cannot sympathize with her feelings on it because he has only and will only ever be just the father. He has done his part in the creation of them but his bond with them will never be the same as the bond she, as their mother, will hold with them. That bond of creation. She blurts out her love for him, and cuts herself off before she butts her head against him. Arturo holds her for as long as she deigns to remain still murmuring, “I love you too.” and watches her flit away with the chaos of her thoughts. He follows after her when she moves to take a deep drink from the river, careful not to crowd her. He wonders, for a moment, if she truly needs him following her around like a lost puppy but he wants to help her…in any way that he can (if there is anything he can truly do). He desires to tell her that she’ll find a den and he knows that she will — her instincts would make sure of it — but he does not because he suspects that she already knows it, too.
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wreathed in iron and in fire
i bare my bloody teeth
and only pity makes my strike so clean
hämähäkki, muodonmuuttaja, satakieli
310 Posts
Ooc — KJ
Bard
Rogue
Offline
#5
The matter of the Lotturo Lemmenpesä is the one thing standing between the weary couple and some much needed peace. The moment she slakes her thirst, Lotte turns from the water with droplets of sweet snowmelt still clinging to her chin. In a rare moment of clarity, she turns her attention to Ceannasach with wicked mischief brewing in her argent eyes — and pokes her snout up beneath his chin with a playful whuff that damps the fur at the hollow of his throat. Pleased with herself, she pokes her tongue out at her mate and whirls — ungainly despite herself — and bounds a pace or two away. She moves cautiously, wary of the wracking pains that threaten, but finds she is oddly absolved of them. The tautness in her lower abdomen is unchanged, but moving is easier now. “Come and get me,” she dares her husband, reminded of their first game of tag. The young mother-to-be is far from limber as she trots heavily through the uncharted wood — stopping short when a strangely comforting, strangely familiar scent piques her interest.

Lotte abruptly changes her trajectory, abandoning the game as she turns to her husband with a smile of invitation. She is still panting heavily, her body temperature higher than it should be, but she seems less strung out. Her keen nose leads her through the coniferous forest; she disregards the firs, pines, and larches impatiently as she breaks through the bracken, heedless of the low, scraping boughs that trail shallow pink furrows along her taut flanks. “Oh, Arturo,” she breathes as she breaks into a secluded hollow where a single sequoia stands — the largest that Lotte has ever seen. It makes no geographical sense that it is here, towering above the spruces, cottonwoods, and aspens that populate the majority of the strath.

The soot-stockinged rogue investigates the clearing and turns to her husband with a rapturous air, for beneath the King Sequoia’s roots is a small hollow. Whatever animal once inhabited it is gone now, and Lotte pokes her nose into it and immediately begins to dig. She is, at present, too fat to actually fit — but she reasons that that’s what legs are for. “Here,” she says decisively, heaving a sigh of relief. “Here, I will give you sons and daughters.” She cranes her neck to look over one dirt-spattered shoulder.
he's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone
630 Posts
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#6
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Arturo wants to apologize to her again, apologize for the stress this move has placed upon her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair of him to expect it of her. She should be bedding down in her nest, preparing to give life to the children they have created together. Instead, she is left to scramble for a place suitable enough instead of one that she had previously chosen. It isn’t right. Yet, Lotte has already made her stance clear on what she thinks of his apologizes: she does not want to hear him and so he does not apologize. The gangster knows that nothing in life is guaranteed and he only thinks of how much a waste it would be for this all to be for naught. If he loses his children. If he loses her. He struggles to regain his footing, to regain his control over Teaghlaigh, over his life. The gangster tells himself he will regain it. He will regain his control and when he does his fist will tighten as if it is wrapped around a throat with the intent to suffocate. He will not be merciful this time. He will not be apologetic. He will be ruthless and decisive. He will be cruel because he has come to learn that it is the only way. If he cruel, if he is a true testament to his the gangster that he is then he will be respected. Fear is clearly a better motivation than kindness.

Arturo follows her leisurely, allowing her to forge the path as she searches, and when she stops so, too, does he. A low scoff leaves his lips with a disbelieving shake of his head. A sequoia. Out of place among the other trees that inhabit their Strath. Though this seqouia has been here for hundreds of years, perhaps, he cannot help but see the irony as if Ravensblood has not abandoned Teaghlaigh as they have abandoned her. She decides that it is here that their children will come into the world and he offers his wife a sage nod of his head. “Only seems appropriate.” He concurs with her before he draws nearer, brushing his muzzle lovingly against her rotund flank as he moves along her side. “I will dig it for you.” It is the least he could do, after all.
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wreathed in iron and in fire
i bare my bloody teeth
and only pity makes my strike so clean
hämähäkki, muodonmuuttaja, satakieli
310 Posts
Ooc — KJ
Bard
Rogue
Offline
#7
Despite the kneejerk protest that she ought to fight her own battles and dig her own den, Lotte finds that she is relieved at Arturo’s offer to put in the grunt work. She tries to find a place to take her ease but at this point, it is next to impossible to get comfortable. A cramp pulls at her, low and long, and she grits her teeth against it as she stretches out on her side like a bloated seal — but she has to admit that the bunching and shifting of Arturo’s muscles beneath his earthen-hued fur is a sight well worth watching. To pass the time and soothe them both, she sings her modified version of an old Irish lullaby, turning her muzzle toward her swollen abdomen so that her children — if they still live; who can say? — will know her love.