open to anyone who'd be allowed in the den. if no one takes this in a week, i'll make it a read only & archive it. ♥
in the world outside of the womb, it is day two. a big success in that asmoses both survived birth and the first twenty four hours of his birth. to him, however, time is incomprehensible and not much is different aside from the fact that he is more aware. aware of his own body and the bodies he is plastered against. the other small pudgy one and the larger one of his
amma. he knows hunger and he knows the nectar of sweet mothersmilk. day two, but it is much the same as the first few hours of life, if now he knows what to expect and is led by primal instincts of survival.
for now, asmoses basks in the warmth of his
amma; teetering on the edge of awake and slumber as he yawns and lets out a small chirp of content. he is deaf to it, of course, but he feels the push of breath and the brief movement of his vocal chords required to make the simple baby noise.
though unaware of the words his amma speaks — in fact, unaware that the whisper of her lips across the short baby fur of his head are words at all — he is nevertheless comforted all the same. asmoses wouldn't be able to explain why the motion felt so soothing even if he was capable of it. this is a soft and warm and good presence; safe ...is what his instincts tell him. compelled to mimic the movement — some instinct that would later form into language and comprehension of language no doubt — he moves his mouth in some sort of way making a noise that is half a coo and half a pspspspsps —
, as if he were telling her some sort of secret instead of just making more baby noises.
skippable!
liliana was stirred awake by her mother's touch. she gasped, whined, but made no effort to protest. instead, she found a new resting place beside both asmoses and amma, allowing herself to bathe in both of their scents. this was all that she knew, this simple life of muffled prayers and milk, and yet there was nothing more which her tiny mind could wish to add.
at the feel of something ( a nose, asmoses would come to learn ) brush against the downy fur at the top of his head; warm, leathery and kinda wet, asmoses lets out a curious chirrup as if to ask what is this — a question he would ask much when he learned how to speak and begun to explore the world around him as it expanded. for now, he is easily and helplessly thwarted by the limitations of his weak sense of smell and taste, and the sense of touch.
he lets out a series of grunts of effort as he pushes himself in an army crawl in the dirt only managing to wiggle a few inches before his energy is spent. depleted and suddenly overcome with fierce hunger he latches greedily onto the nearest teat — that took some merciless pokes of his nose to find ( sorry mama! ) — and suckles.
yep, yep. i wrapped up with my post & archived. ♥
his
amma speaks again though this is perceived simply as soft and lilting vibrations. quick to catch onto repetition — a skill possessed by all cubs — asmoses almost detaches from the teat he suckles to whisper-gurgle 'pspspsps' again but resists the urge to mimic ( or what he thinks is mimicking ) for the call of hunger was, understandably, much more persistent. asmoses drinks until he is mothermilk drunk. it is only when he is content and full that he detaches; lets out a big yawn that near swallows his not very discernible face and falls asleep shortly thereafter with tiny droplets of milk clinging to the small hairs of his chin.