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+--- Thread: Wheeling Gull Isle little star, tonight (/showthread.php?tid=28000)
little star, tonight - Coelacanth - June 24, 2018
The sheepdog labored in silence.
Her pains thrust her from the den she shared with @Stockholm, @Moorhen, @Fern, and @Mur. She sought water, cool and clean and singing, and huddled in a corner of the Labyrinth far away from Komodo’s collection of bones, stones, feathers, and driftwood. This corner was bowl-shaped and blanketed with plush moss, but she plucked from her feathered breast and swollen flank tufts of her own fur to insulate it more fully, preening fussily as agony wracked her tiny body. The harsh pant of her breath, interspersed with low, undulating moans that sounded more like the thumbed pages of old books or the purring of nervous cats, was lost in the symphony of falling, flowing water that surrounded her. Rainsong Labyrinth was womblike in its crepuscular glory, and although it had been a selfish choice and not at all for the puppies’ sake that she’d sojourned here, she would soon be grateful for it. @Hemlock had offered her aid and expertise as the Aralez’s time had drawn near, but Seelie wanted to be alone. She did not even long for her mate as she bore down and brought their firstborn son into the world, a sharp, shrill expulsion of breath whistling from her nose and mouth.
Tender teeth and tongue combed over the pale-and-dark blur that would one day be known as Grayling — a name to honor Morningside’s fallen patriarch — and she nudged him eagerly toward the mound of her belly to nurse. It was his latched mouth and gentle suckling that soothed her nerves and would ease the way for his siblings, though inevitably, her travail would dislodge him.
The next puppy was smaller — thank the stars! — and bore stark contrast to her brother. She was more finely drawn, with fur that appeared merely silvery in the semidarkness of the Labyrinth, aside from a black smudge on her blunt puppy muzzle that Seelie at first tried to lick off. Whoops! Her shorter spine and narrower skull hinted at a build resembling the Groenendael, not the Gampr, but Seelie was pleased at the resemblance to Stockholm in terms of coloration.
Coelacanth, despite her small stature, was made for mothering. Though there was a brief lull between her firstborn daughter and her secondborn son, the waiting time felt minimal — especially since there was so much to do in between: counting heads, cleaning bodies, and ensuring that both babies were nursing. She repeated these three steps an immeasurable amount of times, her obsessive sheepdog’s nature not allowing her to rest until the pain came a third time and ebbed with the birth of a patchy, asymmetrical little male that surprised and delighted her. The piebald puppy didn’t seem to look like either parent and in fact slightly resembled Mur.
Last to be born, almost directly on the heels of the blond-and-white male, was a curious looking girl, nearly as tiny as Fern had been. Her fur looked blue in the perpetual twilight of the Labyrinth, but diluted and faded out to a milky silver at her hindquarters. When she curled into a ball, nursing voraciously, she resembled a grayscale taegeuk, reminding Coelacanth of her twin — and her mate. She longed to call for him, but she could not, and so she spent the first few precious moments alone with her children in the prettiest place she knew. Like a dragon guarding her treasure, she outstretched her muzzle across her babies, a soft, thrumming purr undulating in her throat. She crooked her forelimb and hind leg, coiling her inkbrush plume, to ring them in warmth.
Her pains thrust her from the den she shared with @Stockholm, @Moorhen, @Fern, and @Mur. She sought water, cool and clean and singing, and huddled in a corner of the Labyrinth far away from Komodo’s collection of bones, stones, feathers, and driftwood. This corner was bowl-shaped and blanketed with plush moss, but she plucked from her feathered breast and swollen flank tufts of her own fur to insulate it more fully, preening fussily as agony wracked her tiny body. The harsh pant of her breath, interspersed with low, undulating moans that sounded more like the thumbed pages of old books or the purring of nervous cats, was lost in the symphony of falling, flowing water that surrounded her. Rainsong Labyrinth was womblike in its crepuscular glory, and although it had been a selfish choice and not at all for the puppies’ sake that she’d sojourned here, she would soon be grateful for it. @Hemlock had offered her aid and expertise as the Aralez’s time had drawn near, but Seelie wanted to be alone. She did not even long for her mate as she bore down and brought their firstborn son into the world, a sharp, shrill expulsion of breath whistling from her nose and mouth.
Tender teeth and tongue combed over the pale-and-dark blur that would one day be known as Grayling — a name to honor Morningside’s fallen patriarch — and she nudged him eagerly toward the mound of her belly to nurse. It was his latched mouth and gentle suckling that soothed her nerves and would ease the way for his siblings, though inevitably, her travail would dislodge him.
The next puppy was smaller — thank the stars! — and bore stark contrast to her brother. She was more finely drawn, with fur that appeared merely silvery in the semidarkness of the Labyrinth, aside from a black smudge on her blunt puppy muzzle that Seelie at first tried to lick off. Whoops! Her shorter spine and narrower skull hinted at a build resembling the Groenendael, not the Gampr, but Seelie was pleased at the resemblance to Stockholm in terms of coloration.
Coelacanth, despite her small stature, was made for mothering. Though there was a brief lull between her firstborn daughter and her secondborn son, the waiting time felt minimal — especially since there was so much to do in between: counting heads, cleaning bodies, and ensuring that both babies were nursing. She repeated these three steps an immeasurable amount of times, her obsessive sheepdog’s nature not allowing her to rest until the pain came a third time and ebbed with the birth of a patchy, asymmetrical little male that surprised and delighted her. The piebald puppy didn’t seem to look like either parent and in fact slightly resembled Mur.
Last to be born, almost directly on the heels of the blond-and-white male, was a curious looking girl, nearly as tiny as Fern had been. Her fur looked blue in the perpetual twilight of the Labyrinth, but diluted and faded out to a milky silver at her hindquarters. When she curled into a ball, nursing voraciously, she resembled a grayscale taegeuk, reminding Coelacanth of her twin — and her mate. She longed to call for him, but she could not, and so she spent the first few precious moments alone with her children in the prettiest place she knew. Like a dragon guarding her treasure, she outstretched her muzzle across her babies, a soft, thrumming purr undulating in her throat. She crooked her forelimb and hind leg, coiling her inkbrush plume, to ring them in warmth.
RE: little star, tonight - Grayling - June 25, 2018
“When beholding the tranquil beauty and brilliancy of the ocean’s skin, one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it;
and would not willingly remember that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang.”
—Moby Dick, Herman Melville
and would not willingly remember that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang.”
—Moby Dick, Herman Melville
It was from those dark, tempestuous depths that a soul was cast, gleaming with all the placid splendor of sunlight on scintillating waves while deeper, subtler things unknown swirled beneath the surface. Unto the child of a sea nymph was this ocean soul bestowed, set sail into the land-bound world in a tiny vessel of feather-fine fur and insatiable hunger. Blind and deaf though he was, he uttered no cries as his mother cleaned away the grime from his frail body. He was wrapped in the colors of salt-kissed rocks on wintry seas — dusty granite with pale legs and a collar of snowy white. Despite his calm arrival, he fed upon her breast with the vigor of a ravening kraken and, ignorant of the siblings whose birth followed his own, knew contentment for a time.
RE: little star, tonight - Thresher - June 26, 2018
With all the rush and gusto of dark, frothy waves upon the shore, came the realization of being to little Thresher. The first breath she pulled into her lungs was as startling as the cool of ocean water when stepping off a ledge and over a dropoff. She squirmed, the novel sensation alarming her, but with that breath came more, and instinctively she bawled quietly, soft grunts beseeching this existance to go easy on her; be gentle, with the little lass.
Tucked against warmth and cleansed with the gentlest touch, she was soothed, and when her mouth found its way to suckle at her mother’s breast she latched on and drank hungrily. The nourishment filled her with her first feeling- happiness.
RE: little star, tonight - Six - June 28, 2018
The third-born child of Stockholm and Coelacanth is, for the moment, the fussiest. With the first breath he draws, he cries. A high-pitch mewling that isn’t distress but isn’t happiness either. He squeaks as his mother cleans him and nudges him against her breast, and he noses ineffectually at her stomach for a time – mouthing but not quite ever latching to a nipple.
Making quiet disgruntled sounds all the way, he wiggles and squirms and while Seelie is busy cleaning off her fourth-born, the mottled blonde and white boy valiantly tries to wedge himself under her rear leg until she diverts her attention to him to gently roll him back into place with the rest of his siblings.
For a time he continues to fuss before finally finding a nipple he finds suitable and latches on, drinking greedily, but still not fully silent until his belly is full and he drifts into his first sleep.
Making quiet disgruntled sounds all the way, he wiggles and squirms and while Seelie is busy cleaning off her fourth-born, the mottled blonde and white boy valiantly tries to wedge himself under her rear leg until she diverts her attention to him to gently roll him back into place with the rest of his siblings.
For a time he continues to fuss before finally finding a nipple he finds suitable and latches on, drinking greedily, but still not fully silent until his belly is full and he drifts into his first sleep.
RE: little star, tonight - Koi - July 01, 2018
The lastborn Volkodav-Corten was, for a time, naught but a quivering droplet of shimmering ink. The shock of being spilled into existence seemed insurmountable to the little life, and like a seaswept mariner, she froze instinctively upon awakening to evaluate this new state of being through the pads of her infinitesimal toes.
At once, she took life between her budding teeth and gasped. Air crashed into the tiny lungs and ricocheted against their nascent walls, then tumbled from her yawning mouth in a piping cry. A sweep of pressure and warmth from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail incensed her; she thrust her tiny flippers into a spasm of forward motion until her tender muzzle bumped against a series of closed doors —
Well and truly displeased now, she sang her ire, loosing a litany of peeping accusations before something warm and gentle scooped her close. An instinctive urge to suckle rounded her mouth; she scaled a sealskin mountain and found her place, and even then, the vigorous kneading of her tiny paws did not cease until her hunger was sated and replaced by a deep weariness. Curling close, she sang herself to sleep.
At once, she took life between her budding teeth and gasped. Air crashed into the tiny lungs and ricocheted against their nascent walls, then tumbled from her yawning mouth in a piping cry. A sweep of pressure and warmth from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail incensed her; she thrust her tiny flippers into a spasm of forward motion until her tender muzzle bumped against a series of closed doors —
— brother, sister, brother —
Well and truly displeased now, she sang her ire, loosing a litany of peeping accusations before something warm and gentle scooped her close. An instinctive urge to suckle rounded her mouth; she scaled a sealskin mountain and found her place, and even then, the vigorous kneading of her tiny paws did not cease until her hunger was sated and replaced by a deep weariness. Curling close, she sang herself to sleep.
RE: little star, tonight - Coelacanth - July 01, 2018
The suckling of her children and the lullaby of singing water lulled Coelacanth into a dreamy, trancelike state. Though she continued to count heads obsessively and ensure that each child was breathing normally, her movements were languid and relaxed. Now she did long for the company of her mate, but she could not call for him. A fretful whine stirred in her throat, but the soft, whispering sound of her own voice seemed very far away. Worn from the exhaustion of childbirth and overwhelmed with pride and joy, she felt no shame as tears welled warmly in her cerulean eyes and slipped softly into the velveteen of her cheeks. In this moment, she knew only peace.
Feelings she hadn’t allowed herself to process fully surged to the forefront. They thawed, burned, melted, and soothed. She let go of the feeling of abandonment she hadn’t realized she’d been harboring after Amoxtli and the other Cortens had left. She was no longer upset with the Earthstalker for assaulting her in this sacred place, or for leaving and taking Reigi and Yakone with him. She forgave the winter raven and her snow bunting for leaving when she felt she needed them most — and she forgave herself for her selfishness. She wept for Poppy, but most of all for Doe, and although that wound would never fully heal, some of the venom was washed away.
A stone in her heart twisted and fell away, loosing a new wave of sorrow. She mourned Aditya’s loss fiercely, bleeding dry the pain of his hollow voice, his closed off expression, and forced her clenched jaws to slacken as she let him go. She cried for the empty space beside her where her family used to be; for her grandparents, growing older; for Catori, tethered to a life far from the sea; for Julep and Isengrim, whom she had failed; and for the wolves she could not keep.
She grieved these things fully, the bent crowns of her sons and daughters anointed with her tears, and in doing so, made room in her heart for joy. “My own, only,” she breathed to them, her breath teasing the fur of each downy spine. “I love you ever; I love you always.”
Feelings she hadn’t allowed herself to process fully surged to the forefront. They thawed, burned, melted, and soothed. She let go of the feeling of abandonment she hadn’t realized she’d been harboring after Amoxtli and the other Cortens had left. She was no longer upset with the Earthstalker for assaulting her in this sacred place, or for leaving and taking Reigi and Yakone with him. She forgave the winter raven and her snow bunting for leaving when she felt she needed them most — and she forgave herself for her selfishness. She wept for Poppy, but most of all for Doe, and although that wound would never fully heal, some of the venom was washed away.
A stone in her heart twisted and fell away, loosing a new wave of sorrow. She mourned Aditya’s loss fiercely, bleeding dry the pain of his hollow voice, his closed off expression, and forced her clenched jaws to slacken as she let him go. She cried for the empty space beside her where her family used to be; for her grandparents, growing older; for Catori, tethered to a life far from the sea; for Julep and Isengrim, whom she had failed; and for the wolves she could not keep.
She grieved these things fully, the bent crowns of her sons and daughters anointed with her tears, and in doing so, made room in her heart for joy. “My own, only,” she breathed to them, her breath teasing the fur of each downy spine. “I love you ever; I love you always.”
RE: little star, tonight - Stockholm - July 28, 2018
Sorry this took me like, 40 years to actually post!
He knows when she leaves, and some instinctual part of his consciousness must recognize the change in her scent when she does, so he follows at a great distance, walking in her footsteps long after she has left them. By the time he reaches the mouth of the Labyrinth the first three of their children have already been born. He lingers there, just outside the entrance, short cropped ears cupped forward and straining to listen. The wolf in him tells him to stay away, new mothers often do not want the company of males. The dog tells him to go to her. The two instincts war with each other, and for a long time he stands there at the threshold, before finally taking the first tentative step inside.
His approach is slow and cautious, but there is a gradual back and forth waver of his tail as soon as he sees Coelacanth’s figure where she lays curled around their offspring. His amber gaze remains transfixed on her, willing to retreat back to the entrance if she were to rebuff his approach in any way. But when she offers no such signs he steps closer, lowering his head to touch his nose to her cheek and gently lick away the shimmer of tears there before looking down at the puppies she has brought forth into the world. Their children. His gaze darts up towards her then back down at the four little fuzzy potatoes, and ever so carefully and gently he dips his head, barely touching his nose to each of them, a slow smile crossing his features.
After this inspection he steps around to lay at Seelie’s back, curling his body around hers to provide a source of warmth and a sense of protection.