Ankyra Sound oh, green world -- don't deserve me now

GET OUT YOU BEAUTIFUL BITCHES!! @Ephraim @Illidan @Rhakios @Raleska  o and i guess  daddy u can come too.

dawn had brought with it the first trembling sign her hour was near -- gravid, with belly obscenely distended, the siren queen delved deep into the grotto's heart where she had found a small nook to serve as her whelping den. she was unfamiliar with the pain that fluttered in her chest and, with tungsten force, seemed to seize the marrow of her ribs; each convulsion stirred a restless fear in her heart, and a panic set deep within the matriarch's sunken gaze.

she circled round and round as each painful convulsion grabbed her and finally, under the graft of agony instinct overcame her and she stilled and slipped to the ground with sudden quiet. her chest heaved in deep breaths and she lifted her hips carefully, a keening cry let loose from her lips as she set to the ground. about her a thin and translucent liquid pooled and matted her thighs; she rose again, wincing as another convulsion pulsed through her.

it did not come easy for her, bearing this pain -- a pain unlike anything she had ever experienced before. she set herself once more into the hollowed cusp of sand, and once more she stifled a cry as agony contorted her thin ribs and forced her to hunch over. she expelled with every fiber of her frame, her thighs wrought in matted rime -- something speared from within her, hot and deleterious as it made its way into the unwelcoming world.

the first to slip from her quivering form was a blackened pup enshrined by translucent membrane. she gasped as she caught sight of it and wormed her way to towards it, nestling its small body in the crook of her thin arms as she, driven by instinct, did something she had no recollection of knowing -- tore the sac from around its diminutive and squirming features -- and breathed into it life by gentle laps of her tongue.

she thought she was done -- until that ugly pain returned -- already exhaustion had seeped into her, and once more she drove from the wellsprings of her strength a strangled cry and bore another -- this one a dark and matted brown. in wonder she cradled the child close to her belly and her thin teeth clipped through mucus and skin with an expert precision and her second child was revealed to the world, stark and squalling. she arranged it alongside the first to depart her thin body and marveled at its existence -- two things summoned forth from within her. she set to work extracting it from its encasing, and felt a cold fatigue sink deep into her tired muscles.

were it that she were done -- she regretted ever letting kierkegaard inside her --  in surprise she felt discomfort lance her anew, and she bent down with a cry and forced a third child from within her. with the other two placed neatly alongside each other she turned round to inspect it and once more resumed instinctual duty -- nudging and pressing and licking it until it moved with a livid passion.

the last to stir within her belly did so with a fierceness she had not expected, and consumed by unmitigated torment the siren queen spasmed, care taken to not trample the three that had all left her intact in their passing. she exerted herself once more, teeth set in a hard line -- and was rewarded at last by the final passing, a thin and small thing dwarved by the others. worriedly she curled herself around it and pulled it from the film that kept it -- and with her heart fearfully in her throat lapped its still form until at last it stirred with a silent yawp of its mouth.

sapped of any fire she had ever viciously guarded, the siren queen slumped to the ground -- four new forms tucked within the thin crook of her heaving ribcage.

Ephraim came into the world squalling, and it would be the first and last time he uttered such a full-bodied cry. It exhausted him to issue it, and as fatigue settled on the newborn, he came to know that he didn't accept exhaustion well. He quieted as Caiaphas tended to his newborn needs, drying his wet fur and warming him with her ambience. By the time he was settled alongside his older brother, he was silent save for the satisfied smacking of his lips.

He fed heartily then, pressing at his mother's belly with tiny paws as he jostled alongside his siblings old and new. More were squeezed in beside him, but Ephraim didn't know or care. His little sphere of existence contained only him, Caiaphas and the teat in his mouth, as it would for at least the remainder of the night while sleep claimed him.

Illidan slunk from the warmth of his mother’s body and onto the cold grotto flooring. His tiny mouth parted in wild squeals of confusion, though he was not aware of the sound he was creating or that it echoed through the grotto with surprising ring. The whelp’s ears were closed to the noise from the world. He struggled with wildly swinging limbs before the gentle touch of her tongue brought life to his body. Once he had been cleaned of the bodily protection that had encased him, Illidan met his siblings at their mother’s side and began to feed until sleep carried him away from his new and frightening home. 

This is a nice womb.
I like wombs.

His surroundings were stirring, moving, squeezing.

Twitch twitch.
Lemme sleep.
Please.

He was the first to be thrust into the new world.

Wot?
No wait, lemme sleep.
What has my life come to?

He squirmed in his cocoon against the unfamiliar hard surface he now rested on. He struggled against the membrane clinging to his nose. Then it was gone, and something was touching him. It made him gasp and drew a gargled whirring of protest from him. But it soothed him. It was not so bad as he first thought.

Swiggity swooty?

Instinct implored him to find a teat as his breaths steadied and he acclimated to this new place. It told him to crawl, to just wiggle, but like, over.

I can't wiggle over.
That's not how it works.
Stupid fuck.

Rhakios squirmed and writhed and succeeded in turning a circle but never leaving the place where his mother had left him. Crawl using your legs, instinct advised him.

Fucking crawling legs.
Who wiggles over?

Rhakios whirred some more, unimpressed and agitated as he continued to turn circles in place. Something clicked after a few moments and his legs started to clumsily work in tandem, united by a common goal. He was moving forward.

Oh shit!
I can do it.
I'm crawling.
Crawl crawl crawl crawl crawl crawl crawl crawl crawl.
Ephraim watch.
Crawl crawl.
Pretty good.
Right guys.
Guys?

There was a dim awareness that he was alone, some pressure against his flanks that was missing as he scrabbled up to his mother's breast and nosed for a teat.

I got you lips.
Hey Ma, you want some suck?

He had trouble getting the teat into his mouth, and before he could figure that next step out he was jostled as his littermates came to join him. He was surrounded once more.

Ah shit.
Siblings!
They're everywhere!
Illidan is a hoe.

His brothers started to suckle while he blindly shoved his nose into his mother's side and hunted for the elusive teat he had lost track of.

Are you fucking pawing me.
Raleska are you seeing this.
They.
Have.
A.
Tit.

He felt the teat against his forehead and snout and shoved his eyeball into it.

Wait wait.
Wait wait.
Wait wait wait.
Hold ur snout.
Imma get this boy a tit.
Boys love tits.

Finally, with toothless jaws agape and searching, he succeeded in capturing a teat, and the first born nursed enthusiastically before drowsiness settled in.

Tit, tit, tit, tit, tit, tit.
Need tit got tit.
Ma, I got a tit.
LEMME SLEEP!

One by one her siblings departed the womb before her. She remained in the matrix of warmth and comfort, unaware of their passing. If she possessed eyes in which to see she might have sniggered at their unlucky eviction.. up until she too suddenly felt her world press around her and she was rudely jostled down a corridor she wanted no part of.

Like Ephraim she released a wild cry of discontent, provoked into harsh screams at the cold that confronted her. She was disrobed of her membrane sac and then shuttled alongside other squirming masses. Unaware they were her siblings she thrashed against their presence, but was quickly cast aside for she was too small to put up much of a match. A few minutes passed where she went every which way but the right way towards the teat, traveling the expansive world of her mother's waist (and also maybe her siblings' heads and bodies) as she sojourned further and further from the very place she was searching for. She fell as one of the puppies moved under her worming body, and she moved instinctively into place with a firm latch, suckling the siren queen's armpit with dry vigor. It was an unrewarding enterprise and she was swiftly corrected by being elbowed into place by her mother. Rude. No matter, she was too consumed with the need to feast, and she engorged herself heartily on her mother's teats with no further tantrums to be had.

The ghost had been banished from her side for a time being. He had paced outside the entrance to the birthing den with wild, risen fur along his nape and shoulders. The ragged brute trudged from one space to the next, tiring his old frame and working himself down from his high. Through their birthing, he could hear Caiaphas cry out, and he wished to dispel the foul things that would cause her harm, but he knew it was a reason to keep him out. When all was quiet save for the sound of small voices squealing through the dark grotto, he swung his head round and moved in closer to see them.

Four balls of life were tucked closely to her stomach. His molten stare roamed over each of their frames with a fraction of admiration for how delicate they were. It was peculiar to him that life could start so small and frail, only to grow into powerful beasts of might. With heavy eyes, he treaded carefully around them so that he could place himself next to her. Kierkegaard knew she would be tired and he was not there to rouse her from any rest she might need, but to support her as a silent sentry while she nursed their children into their new lives.

puttin this guy here in case you all want to have another round

she was exhausted. she counted four -- four wretches whelps nestled against her flank. their forms characterless and writhing. that they could be so small, that they came from her -- (and kierkegaard, thx for that buddy). she did not marvel long, for a tiredness she had never known soon overcame her. she scarcely lifted her head as kierkegaard's familiar form spilled into the arch of the den's mouth, nor did she stir when he came alongside her. she needn't speak -- he would understand -- in a tired slump she rested content against his shoulder. her children -- no, their children -- clutched tight to her side.