Wolf RPG

Ragnar had finished his first patrol of the morning — stirring earlier than he had previously so he could let time to include the Ridge’s shores — and had began to make his way, as per usual back to the birthing den after pausing by the rendezvous den he had been gradually working on constructing in secrecy for his growing family knowing that the birthing den would eventually become to small for them and that way, if another litter were to come along it would be free to use. Swiftly, the Viking moved to the sounds of his family, seemingly awake. Normally, he relieved Thistle giving her a few stolen moments or half an hour (the length didn’t matter to Ragnar so long as she got out to stretch her legs and to absorb some sunshine), there was a small measure of alarm when she did not come out to greet him right away. Ragnar ducked into the den and moved to lay on the wall opposite of his wife and the three squirming bodies pressed against her, greeted by Tveir’s cry though Ragnar was unable to decipher it. His eyes touched Gyda, and then in turn the First Born resting on Ein who seemed contented to suckle at his mother’s breast. Out of all the children, Ragnar suspected that it was Ein who ate the most but that was an assumption based on nothing more than that he was the biggest of his siblings.

“What is the matter, wife?” Ragnar asked Thistle, hindering on the worry that something had happened while he had been patrolling that bid his wife to linger instead of welcoming his presence that henceforth released her of parental duties for a time. The children all seemed fine. A little more lively than they previously had but it was a gradual thing. Each day, to Ragnar, they seemed more lively than the last, distinguishing themselves as best they could with what they had to work with. Gyda, Ragnar had found, seemed to like it when he spoke to her, or at the very least the vibrations of his vocalizations appeared to pacify her. Ein was a natural born conqueror if his tendency to clamor on top of his siblings was any sort of indication. It was a very primeval way of expressing dominance even if Ragnar was unsure they were at the point of establish dominance or even had the urge to. Tveir …well Tveir was easily the loudest of the trio, given his shrieks and snores. “Did I miss something?” Concerned, the Viking inquired of Thistle, tearing his eyes of off their children to study her face instead.

Ein had taken a repose from drinking only to be continuously poked and prodded at by Tveir and it was the boy’s loud cry of protest the gnashing of toothless mouth that caught the Viking’s attention and the savage man laughed looking from the boys to Thistle with nothing short of affection on his face. “Are they always like that?” Most of the time when Ragnar took over watching them for a bit they were asleep. Not always but it was a rare thing to catch all three of them awake at the same time and Ragnar couldn’t help the feeling that he had stepped into some small family treasure — one that he was suddenly glad he had not missed. An indignant noise rose from the First Born before he, at Thistle’s speaking of being able to see, looked up at her his eyes a milky blue. “Ein’s eyes are open too, look my love,” He spoke in hushed, accented tones not daring to raise his voice more than that volume, wishing to keep this beautiful moment a private memory between them.

Ragnar’s attention moved back to which ever child was poking at his side with a cold, wet black, leathery nose; small paws joining in on the poking game that the Second Born was playing. Gyda had sat up, and the Viking’s attention went to their daughter then as Tveir kept up his exploration of Ragnar’s side, her eyes were open too, he saw. She had cooed at him but then had laid back down and the Viking frowned softly. “koma hér dóttir, koma taka Þátt bræður Þína,” Ragnar beckoned to his dark silver dressed princess in his native tongue, wanting her to take part in the exploration of …whatever it was all three of the children could now see. Ragnar shifted then, stretching his paws out so they his pads were brushing against his wife's paws, offering her a coy smirk as if it were a secret before them before he folded his front paws to allow the children the access to move freely.

Tveir continued his poking at Ragnar’s side though each prod into the thick muscles that lined the man’s body began to become less enthusiastic the more Ragnar acted to be oblivious to it. He could not snap at the child to stop his curious prodding, even if it annoyed Ragnar a bit to have his side continuously assaulted by the Second Born’s cool, wet nose because he understood it was how the child would learn. And the last thing that Ragnar wanted to do was to stifle curiosity. He, himself, was an extremely curious creature, sharing that with the Allfather who was his primary and favorite God. Curiousity of the world around them, Ragnar believed, was something to be nurtured. He wanted his children to question things, and strive to find answers however they went about doing it. Eventually, Tveir decided that Átta seemed more appealing and gave up on his assault of the Viking man to toddle to his little sister who had fell backwards as if to discourage the youngest boy’s approach. Ragnar watched them for a brief moment out of the corner of his eye before he glimpsed towards Ein who appeared to be asleep cuddle against Thistle making tiny little noises in his sleep. A soft smile was exchanged with his wife before he turned his head to watch the younger two children, ready to intervene if it appeared as if Gyda wanted assistance.

Ragnar watched as Tveir crept closer to Gyda with the intention of poking her as he had Ragnar, and Ragnar watched with the contemplation of a soccer referee, body tensing as he prepared to separate them quickly if need be. He knew that the children were not aware of their bodies the same way that adults were and worried that, more so in Gyda’s case seeing as she was the smallest of the children, that Tveir might accidentally hurt her. Ein was sturdier than Gyda — though Ragnar was aware that his sons could easily hurt one another, as well. Yet, Tveir did not clamor to crawl on top of Gyda, instead, appearing to be contended, Ragnar watched, with poking at Gyda. Instead, it was Gyda who aspired to climb atop of Tveir in search of something to chew on. Ragnar let out a soft noise, not quite a laugh but it was a noise of fondness all the same as he watched his children interact with one another in a new way as they discovered that they could, for the first time, see one another.