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+--- Thread: Dawnlark Plains you can tell the lighthouse from the sun (/showthread.php?tid=26945)
you can tell the lighthouse from the sun - Coelacanth - April 26, 2018
Backdated to April 17, 2018, taking place directly after this thread.
Coelacanth is in the first phase of her heat and is NOT considered fertile. “During proestrus, the start of the estrous cycle, the bitch attracts male dogs, but is still not receptive to breeding.” This phase will last through April 20, 2018.
TRAVEL LOG
April 13, 2018: Sea Lion Shores
April 14, 2018: Horizon Ridge
April 15, 2018: Raven’s Watch
April 16, 2018: Hushed Willows
April 16 — 18, 2018: Morningside
Coelacanth is in the first phase of her heat and is NOT considered fertile. “During proestrus, the start of the estrous cycle, the bitch attracts male dogs, but is still not receptive to breeding.” This phase will last through April 20, 2018.
TRAVEL LOG
April 13, 2018: Sea Lion Shores
April 14, 2018: Horizon Ridge
April 15, 2018: Raven’s Watch
April 16, 2018: Hushed Willows
April 16 — 18, 2018: Morningside
Coelacanth herself had been given the honor of taking the goat’s liver to Grayday and Catori’s den. She hoped to see her sister-cousin but would have been delighted to see either of them; pausing respectfully outside the den, she issued a whispered whuff. The sound was soft enough that it would not wake the new mother if she was indeed asleep, but it was fortunate Seelie was incapable of telepathy beyond the eerie level of communication she shared with her twin — her mind and heart were so noisily clamoring for the @Spiritwalker’s presence that she felt they must be audible to the outside world. The sweet milkscent and the sighing grunts and burbles pushed at her with near physical force, causing a twist of hunger in her gut that had little to do with food. Indeed, she had hardly consumed any part of the mountain goat, her nerves too jangly and that slow-burning need too insistent to allow her to settle down long enough to indulge.
Balancing the meat upon her paws so it would not touch the ground, “Catori?” she whispered, a whine stirring wistfully in her throat as she wriggled hopefully where she stood.
Balancing the meat upon her paws so it would not touch the ground, “Catori?” she whispered, a whine stirring wistfully in her throat as she wriggled hopefully where she stood.
RE: you can tell the lighthouse from the sun - Spiritwalker - April 26, 2018
No one had warned her how exhausting it was raising three tiny whelps. Well. They weren't as tiny - now getting older and thus more mobile even on their unstable little legs. Catori had just about wrangled everyone to sleep when the soft whispered call of her own name and the promising scent of Coelacanth broached the sanctity of her den. She let out a soft whine, summing her cousin closer than she'd allowed anyone save for Grayday so far.
She wanted to show her sister-cousin her babies. She wanted Coelacanth to approve them - to see the newest Corten. Well - maybe newest. She wasn't even sure, given Chelan's lot had entered the world just as hers did.
Her tail beat the earth rapidly, no doubt rousing the babies that she'd struggled to croon to sleep. They could not even hear or see her yet, it made no difference. Catori only had so many tricks up her sleeve so far so she made due with the ones she had. "Seelie, come see!" It was a stage whisper no doubt of that, but a heartfelt one none the less.
RE: you can tell the lighthouse from the sun - Coelacanth - April 27, 2018
Very gingerly, Coelacanth lifted the iron-rich portion of meat between her jaws and approached the den, nosing it insistently toward her cousin with a beseeching whine. “Eat,” she urged via a pointed stare and a gentle kunik. She settled in alongside the Spiritwalker, tucking her body along the taller wolf’s spine without asking permission, and began grooming tenderly at her sister-cousin’s nape. It would, perhaps, become clear to Catori after a moment that the offered comfort was meant to be mutually healing — Coelacanth was visibly, deeply troubled, and her unease betrayed itself in the fierce arrhythmia of her body’s naturally elegant cadence.
Aside from the odd physical restlessness that continued to keep her heart drumming at an uncomfortably quick pace, Seelie bore within her limpid cerulean eyes a harrowing tangle of shame and self-doubt. She fidgeted periodically before pillowing her muzzle across Catori’s withers with a distressed little whine. Things with Komodo were confusing and frustrating and she was worried about Stockholm and Moorhen and everything was crashing down around her ears and what was she going to do — how could she ever hope to create something as perfect as these three small miracles, and if she did somehow manage it, how could she protect them and keep them from the same hurt she’d seen in all of her lambs thus far? A soft, fretful whine stirred timorously in her throat.
The cousins got to talking, and the Spiritwalker, as always, made short work of Coelacanth’s worries. Out of respect to his Morningside family, Seelie didn’t mention Aditya’s confession — and out of respect to the Earthstalker, Seelie didn’t mention what had occurred in Rainsong Labyrinth. Though Catori was aware of the tumult in the little sheepdog’s heart, she couldn’t have known exactly why it was there — Seelie had always had a secret world of her own. Even though she had overcome her impediment enough to speak now (albeit in fractured, stilted fits and starts) she continued to keep a lot of what she felt and thought locked away. What she came away from the conversation with was that she wanted to go home and have children with Stockholm; that she had been wrong to run away, but she was a Corten, and itchy paws were par for the course; and that she was fit to lead despite her soft personality. Seelie played with her small cousins and fussed over Catori until the night sky took on a predawn glow, and then they both took a nap.
Aside from the odd physical restlessness that continued to keep her heart drumming at an uncomfortably quick pace, Seelie bore within her limpid cerulean eyes a harrowing tangle of shame and self-doubt. She fidgeted periodically before pillowing her muzzle across Catori’s withers with a distressed little whine. Things with Komodo were confusing and frustrating and she was worried about Stockholm and Moorhen and everything was crashing down around her ears and what was she going to do — how could she ever hope to create something as perfect as these three small miracles, and if she did somehow manage it, how could she protect them and keep them from the same hurt she’d seen in all of her lambs thus far? A soft, fretful whine stirred timorously in her throat.
The cousins got to talking, and the Spiritwalker, as always, made short work of Coelacanth’s worries. Out of respect to his Morningside family, Seelie didn’t mention Aditya’s confession — and out of respect to the Earthstalker, Seelie didn’t mention what had occurred in Rainsong Labyrinth. Though Catori was aware of the tumult in the little sheepdog’s heart, she couldn’t have known exactly why it was there — Seelie had always had a secret world of her own. Even though she had overcome her impediment enough to speak now (albeit in fractured, stilted fits and starts) she continued to keep a lot of what she felt and thought locked away. What she came away from the conversation with was that she wanted to go home and have children with Stockholm; that she had been wrong to run away, but she was a Corten, and itchy paws were par for the course; and that she was fit to lead despite her soft personality. Seelie played with her small cousins and fussed over Catori until the night sky took on a predawn glow, and then they both took a nap.