Ravensblood Forest you found me and i found you

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Though her return of his words of love were solemn they fill him with such joy and warmth. He is lucky to have found her and lucky still that his feelings are reciprocated. Though age has never been a big deal to him — he is not bothered that he is old enough to be her father but he had used to worry that it might bother her or that someone younger, more strapping might come along and steal her hurt from beneath him. He is secure enough in their love that he no longer thinks such things. Attention was one thing but love, Arturo feels that is much harder to steal. He is not concerned that she does not feel them moving yet …though this is not his first litter he is no midwife and is not sure when is too early for them to move. Arturo offers a soft, fond chuckle. “Do you feel ill at all?” He remembers that Duana suffered from awful sickness that did not cease until she had actually given birth which brought about his surprise that she had given birth to four healthy pups given how ill she’d been during the whole ordeal. He draws from that experience only because that is what it was: experience. Not enough for him to be actually helpful but then again he supposes that Duana’s struggle with pregnancy wasn’t normal and that he should not be drawing conclusions other to assure himself that Lotte’s will go smoother.

“I know you will.” Arturo speaks in a soft, smoky murmur with utmost confidence. He was worried at first, as they worked to conceive that she might not be well enough but her body had taken his seed and he tells himself that if she hadn’t been well enough that she might not have gone into heat at all. The mention of Furiosa brings a fond smile to the Fearghal gangster’s lips as Lotte speaks of her. Though she was definitely a force of nature Arturo misses her. “She is not wrong,” He agrees in a low purl. “perhaps she had a gift of prophecy.” For at that time none knew about Lotte: not even Chusi. He’d only told their daughter about Lotte when he was confident that his attempt at courting her would not end with rejection.

“Mallaidh Furiosa,” Arturo repeats it, testing it out on his tongue. His ears smooth back to rest at half mast atop his skull as he bows his head down to brush his muzzle against her own and offer her a kiss to her cheek, smoothing his tongue against her silken fur. “I like it,” He tells her. “I think Furiosa would too.” It was a good name. A strong name for an undoubtedly strong daughter. Arturo lifts his chin when Lotte begins to apologize, his fiery gaze looking at her face, seeking her ethereal moonbeam gaze: always able to temper the wild and destructive burn of his own gaze. She apologizes for irrational things: things that she cannot control. “Lotte,” He purrs her name in a low rumble of a soft chuckle. “Do not apologize.” He breathes to her, rejecting the words. “Everything comes in it’s own time,” Arturo attempts to soothe. “there is no limit to how long I would wait for you Lotte. I would have waited for you for forever if that was what it took.” Because he loved her and there was no one else that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was as simple as that.

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