the evening of the long night had ended. sapphique's next generation had left for the thoughtstone as younglings, and returned just a little older.
he wondered when the hour would come for mireille's children.
a great hunt had called most of sapphique inland. val stayed at the cliffs, watching and patrolling so their scent did not wane with their sojourn. he missed the bustling activity, but knew this to be a great experience for sapphique's nestlings.
finishing a patrol that took him down the southern edge of the cliff, val paused as he came across the gravestones of sapphique's matriarchs. he wondered if the little pearl he had left was still there -- it gave him peace to think that in this cold place, the molten glint of his goldpearl might warm the souls of his departed mothers.
In spite of the wild winds and fresh air, Sapphique began to feel crowded and stuffy to him. His own agemates grew, and while he had yet to experience any more torture from his sister since she had been found, he still kept himself apart from the others, exploring, hunting small things, and patrolling.
He spent little time by the beach; the water was too cold to swim in, anyway.
His mother was gone, as were a few others, and he found himself growing bored. Looking for some form of entertainment or company that wouldn't involve getting dirty, he found Valravn's scent and followed it toward the borders, where he knew the sacred earth held his Grandmothers in its cold embrace. He huffed as he moved to join Valravn, flopping listlessly at his side.
Every night, he watched the stars come out just a little bit earlier. Maybe a little bit dimmer, or a little bit brighter. He watched the sun leave even sooner, and the moon say goodnight even later.
Thibault followed Tousaint out, many tail lengths behind his brother and quiet, for he enjoyed silence when it was present. He found it a warm feeling, to simply walk with his brother. By the other side of Val, he settled down. Squishy with winter fluff.
some slight pp, hope that is ok but happy to edit if not <333
tousaint. thibault.
val turned a warm eye upon both as they plopped to each side of him, one after another. his tongue lapped the peak of tousaint's forehead, the crook of thibault's jaw in affectionate greeting.
it had been some time since the three of them could rest like this. there was a tranquility to sapphique in these dimming hours, and he was lucky enough he got to enjoy it with them both. for a moment val breathed in the wintercold air, and listened to the soft sussuration of both of his sons' breath. there were not many moments like this in life. there may never be a moment like this again.
he wanted to share with them some great wisdom, but in that moment, words failed him. instead, he embraced each of them in a massive bearhug beneath his arms, and then scampered off with a great whoop reminiscent of a memory he'd had long ago.
last one to grandmaman's favorite spot along the cliff is a rotten egg!
Thibault was a shadow- but a calm, amenable one. Of all of his siblings, he found his brother was the most tolerable. He was willing to be led, guided, and he seemed to understand that Tousaint did not want to wrestle or get dirty. The bit of space he afforded for his prim brother was much appreciated, and was rewarded with the gentlest expression the sour boy was able to muster.
And out of all of his siblings, he was most willing to share time with Valravn with Thibault. Miette would be too demanding; Chantale for sure would find some way to disrupt the peace as well.
Whatever peace they had was short-lived- and the one who disrupted it was none other than Val himself- who scooped the boys up, one under each rangy arm, and gave them each a squeeze. Tousaint murmured a complaint, and squirmed- but smiled nevertheless.
Once he was released, he shook his coat out, and then turned his neck to smoothe the fur of his shoulders where it had been ruffled. Val sped off- and once he had sorted out his suit, Tousaint would follow- at a bouncy, collected prance.
He could never be a rotten egg; not if he arrived looking as good as he did, even if he came in last place.
It was squished into the arms of his dad that he looked over to Tousaint. He wasn't sure if it was the awkwardness of the sudden hug or the way Val had more energy than him and Tousaint combined, but something of it, as Tousaint's eyes grew soft and Val announced his challenge, was when he smiled.
And Val looked stupid scrambling off into the distance. Tousaint soon too, in his Pretty Boy™ prance.
But Thibault had to run after them! Fast! At least--- fast to Thibault, but Thibault was..
Slow.
Very slow.
"You two are so--" Pant. Pant. "Fast!" He heaved from behind!
But Thibault didnt mind being a rotten egg if it meant he got to see Val flailing ahead of Tousaint.
val didn't remember it, but once upon a time -- or many times, even -- he and chacal had raced the same wooden corridors to the prospect of rotten eggs. he could not remember where he picked up the phrase -- was it his maman, rosalyn?
his daydreaming was interrupted by tousaint speeding ahead. tousaint, who looked far more put together and clean than he and thibault combined. val snorted, turning an ear to the flagging thibault behind him.
his pace slowed ever so slightly so thibault could catch up. it's the promise of food.
val joked, motioning to the already fading tousaint. maybe we can pin tousaint to the spot so we can both win.
but they were nearing the spot already -- before val could do much of anything tousaint had already won. he slowed alongside thibault, just slow enough so that he came last. i guess i am the rotten egg.
val winked, giving both an affectionate lick. did you know grandmame rosalyn used to spend many hours here? looking for more rotten eggs, no doubt. maybe that is how she found me.
He maintained his composure at a light and bouncy lope, prepared to hasten his pace if his brother managed to overtake him. Only when he neared the vantage point did he turn to glance over his shoulder, to see the ungainly gait of Valravn, who tagged along with an out-of-breath Thibault. Smugly, he pranced in a circle, touting his victory with a lift of his chin and a wave of his wispy tail. If he had heard the comment about being pinned to the ground, he might have flung himself from the cliffs to avoid such torment.
He flinched as Val reached for him- not anticipating pain, but dreading the inevitable mess the man was going to make of his fur with just one lick. He grimaced and smoothed a paw over his own forehead to straighten the cowlick created in his gossamer fur.
"De sea do smell like rotten eggs," He commented frankly with a light snort. He registered what Val had said and eyed him quizzically. "What you mean she found you? You not be knowin' 'ow babies be born?" He asked with a teasing grin.
The moment the mention of how babies were born was announced, Thibault gagged while feeling the slob of dads tongue! A chuff, then an airy laugh. "We be teachin' you all about de babies! Our healt' class," he prodded with a pointing paw at Val.
The sea reminded him of his maman. Reminded him of the first time she braved him into the water, and how he floated and flopped around like a fat whale!
"What did granmé be like, when she wasn't lookin' for you under stink rock?"
tousaint surged ahead, his fur shimmering as if a horse’s in victory lap; for all his athleticism, he sure didn’t get it from val.
val pulled up with a grin, oblivious to the dissent of both children as he rifled through their fur. fur was for roughing up anyway, right?
he fixed tousaint with a deadpan expression, scoffing. of course i know where they come from — the parsley patch. that is where me and your maman picked you —
another noogie embrace towards tousaint — and you —
he feinted a noogie in thibault’s direction before resting on his heels. no health class needed.
his soft laugh spilled into the air shortly after thibault’s. he hoped they knew he said this in jest, and he wished @Ceridwin was there to catch in on the joke. your grandmame never found me under a stink rock. she found me in a cave.
val’s eyes loomed close in storytelling theatric. grandme was a wonderful woman. they both were.
he sighed, a little wistful as he motioned for them to look out at the dark waves sounding below. grandme rosalyn was a fierce fighter. she was a war captive once, you know. a great and terrible battle happened on these cliffs, but she and grandme erzulie won. grandme erzulie clever — she had more knowledge in the tip of her nose than most wolves have in their body. she is also where we get our dashing looks from.
for a time, the three of them watched the sea, and val's heart was full.