This is forward-dated to 5/16. Maybe a couple rounds between mahler & pri before the babs come in?
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for a first time mother, praimfaya had been under the assumption that everything was normal. she felt ok and as far as she could tell symptoms were lining up as they were meant to. there was a bit of uncomfortableness earlier in the evening but she went to sleep in her birthing den with the consideration that it was just one of the cubs pressing against an organ or another — which wasn't uncommon. one of them seemed particularly keen on stepping on her bladder.
in the witching hour of the sunday morn, the air hot and humid it is a horrible pain that overtakes her. praimfaya lets out a surprised noise of pain and curls in on herself, the scent of blood and
other fluids filling her nostrils. panic floods through her as another painful contraction rips along her and with a shaky breath lets out an urgent, panicked howl for
@Mahler.
it was a week too early and —
and something was
wrong.
praimfaya takes deep breaths in attempt to calm herself, to wait out the pain. it passes after what feels like an eternity; it barely gives her enough time to register mahler's appearance. frostbound gaze seeks him out; the shadow of him. a soft grunt is given. uh,
she pauses, draws in a breath and swallows hard. does all over count?
the commander asks in a weak attempt at humor. i think they're coming.
she says again just as another contraction hits her. she grits her teeth, trying to get comfortable — a futile attempt.
fear grips her now; ironic that it should come at the bearing of new life as opposed to the numerous times she's stared death defiantly in the face. her life was not just
her's anymore ...not that it had ever been. she gives a small weak nod and takes comfort from mahler's presence as another wave of contractions hit her. it is not quick and she labors until the first babe is free. she pants heavy and instinctively tears the sac that protected him. a male; black phase. from her father, she thinks.
is he...
she cleans
@Worripa off and lets out the breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding.
her words never followed for no sooner did she get him to latch and began to feed was she gripped by another wave of contractions.
a second and last pup comes. a pale girl
@Skaigona.
praimfaya repeats the process and nudges the girl; trying to wrap her mind around how she created these two tiny beings.
do you ...
praimfaya pauses.
will they live?
she inquires in a soft whisper.
Just a cameo. <3
The panicked howl of another, laced with urgency, roused Malila from her slumber. She had not been sleeping well lately, and easily shook off any traces of distant sleep that had clung to her. Adjusting to life in Rivenwood had been slow going, even with Speedy by her side. She had become more reclusive, keeping at a distance. Always there, but always just out of reach. So unlike the girl she was back at her birthplace.
The news that the pack would be flooded with new life was not lost on her. It boosted her spirits, tickled her curiosity. At just under a year old, Malila was only beginning to get the hint of how babies were made. She knew that it took two; a male and a female. A mom and dad. That the mother carried the young, as Speedy had with her and Mohe. The specifics and the finer details of these processes, were beyond her grasp. The scent of blood and strange other fluids at Praimfaya's den were alarming, but pulled her closer. She wanted to know what was going on.
Mahler was there too, tucked inside the den with the silver warrior. Malila didn't announce herself. Nor did she dare come close. She hung back, held there by a deep instinct that told her to sit tight, watch and listen. Her ears swerved to receive the assortment of foreign sounds. Groans, grunts, heavy breathing and mewling little cries. Keen eyed with interest, she laid down outside, head between her paws, hopeful gaze fixed on the entrance.
slight pping of pri!
worripa pays little mind once he is soothed by the swipe of praimfaya's tongue and guided to a teat where he mouths at swatches of fur — earning a concerned noise from his mother — until he finally latches. the first rush of sweet mother's milk is warm and startling. worripa, uncertain; unlatches and lets out a cry, milk dribbling from his mouth and onto his tiny chin. he is encouraged again by an insistent press of praimfaya's muzzle to his bum — gentle ( for she is afraid to hurt him ) but commanding.
he latches again only after his sister is born and nestled against him; another squirming body. soon, his stomach is full and worripa is lulled to sleep.
going to archive with this post. <3
exhaustion; unlike any praimfaya has ever known before, begins to set in. her eyelids feel as heavy and her body aches from laboring forth new life. still, the commander fights it off for as long as she can to look at them — a son and a daughter — with fierce pride and a swelling of love unlike she has ever felt before. how anything could be so
perfect was beyond her and yet, they undoubtedly were.
ai hodons,
she croons.
my loves.
she does not even hear malila's presence outside the entrance of her den; but dutifully chews the herbs mahler brought to her tiredly.
thank you.
she says and when he leaves weeps softly; from exhaustion, from joy, from relief until she finally falls asleep.