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who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Imaq - July 16, 2021
forward dated for 07/19/2021! (Was too excited to wait lmao. I will be posting with Siku whenever he's activated! ) AW (@Wintersbane, @Tzila, @Lane, @Zephyr, @Kaster, @Pandora, @Eldritch, @Wayfarer, @Veteran, @Arius, @Ensio) but pls keep in mind that Imaq will likely only allow @Rye to enter the whelping den for the time being!
Her son, her boy, came in the night. The contractions tickled at the back of her mind, drawing her subconscious groggily to the surface just long enough to wonder blearily why her back and hips hurt so bad before the blissful black depths of exhaustion claimed her once more. Only when they worsened and grew closer together did the she-dog waken fully, with a tiny wrenching gasp, and later she would be grateful for the chance to rest before pushing. Reluctant to draw attention to her suffering, the quivering shepherd curled into the bedding and into herself -- sinking into the darkness, into the small world of pain crashing through her body -- further, burying her fangs into the furs to stifle the cries that wanted to tear from her throat.
In the morning, seemingly endless hours later when Siqiqniq's golden beams at last began to trickle into the caverns, something would inevitably draw the others. Whether it was the heavy perfume of afterbirth clinging to the Delta's den and the merle duo residing within or the soft grunts of the ashen child nursing at her underbelly -- his pelt already faintly splotched with watercolor patches of cornflower and lilac, which were sure to darken with time. Perhaps Selkie should've alerted them to the fact that the newest member of Duskfire had made his debut but as it was, she hadn't been ready to share him just yet.
As the Qeya finally got a good chance to examine her child in the light of day, dew whet her lashes -- a tremulous, disbelieving smile trembling across her lips. He was perfect. The pudgy boy murmured a small noise as he finished eating and released her, squeaking softly as his mother leaned down and brushed the tip of her bicolored nose against his own tiny snout -- dovedown head weaving for a moment before he lowered it and burrowed closer against the fluff of her underbelly. There was nothing evil about him, nothing accursed -- how could there be anything but joy as her son curled tighter to her warmth?
"Sikuliak. Sikuliak Yuku Qeya-Black," Imaq whispered, pressing the words against his folded, deaf ears and his miniscule features in adoring kisses and hushed coos. For now, only she and the inua protecting their den would know his name -- safeguarding it. On Sikuliak's nameday, she would reveal the title to his sire and tribe-kin and when she had healed enough, when the pup was old enough, his mother would take him out on to the Glacier and tell the world of his name -- so that Sedna and all the spirits would recognize him no matter where he went.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - RIP Wintersbane - July 17, 2021
just a little cameo post. <3
in the interest of not crowding the new mother or the father of the cub(s) that imaq gave birth to, wintersbane does not linger. he does, however, drop a gift of downysoft, sundried rabbit pelt at the mouth of imaq's birthing den. it isn't much ...but wintersbane hopes it will bring her and her cubs some measure of joy. the soft fur is good for cuddling and for teething when old enough — though this was from absent observation of his own children and hazy memories that felt like they belonged to someone else of his own past as a cub — so very long ago now.
congrats, imaq.he offers in a soft rumble before he takes his leave, off to tend to his own brood and patrol the borders.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Rye - July 17, 2021
What a nice thing to wake up and see, was really looking forward to this! Let me know if I need to change something.
He wouldn't leave Imaqs side, not for long at least. Never wanting to be too far in case she began her delivery process but in the night, he would give her that space and stay nearby to hear her calls. On those nights he would fall asleep thinking about what he might do with his child, his little one. There was no doubt the babe within Imaq womb was his, unlike Tzilas comparable colored baby girl but that was a worry for another time. The sun had finally crested its horizon and with it came an anxious pit slowly forming in his belly. Rye roused himself from his hastily thrown together bed and made his way closer to Imaqs den, the smell of afterbirth hit his nose near instantly. He froze in his tracks, his bated breath stuttering while he gathered to courage to see his child. The world around him blurred into one color, the only picture to be composed, the den Imaq rested in. The sounds of near inaudible grunts and squeaks flooded his ears, they cupped them forward and willed his feet forward with each noise.
Vaguely widened eyes stole a peak inside the den, his eyes quick to find the impossibly tiny, wriggling babe nestled against its beautiful merle mother. Wonderment stung his eyes, dug at his chest, weighed it down and submerged it under joy, fear, excitement but mostly pride. Rye felt drowned in emotions he couldn't possibly begin to explain, they nearly overwhelmed the first time father and it showed. The quick rise and fall of his chest gave hint to his unease and the unbroken amazed stare towards his child showed the pride ever-growing in his heart. Along with the rapidly waving tail fanning the air expressing his joy.
"Imaq," He crooned at the den entrance, forcing his eyes to part from the babe to make brief contact with her. Hesitantly, eyes watchful for the merles reaction, Rye nosed the pup, seeing that it was a little boy. "He's here." He said with disbelief commandeering his tone. The scene unfolding before him felt fictitious, as if it was nothing more than a dream. It took another few squirms and faint noises to hammer in the reality his boy was truly alive, well, and thriving. "Our little one." The hotah murmured, almost saying to himself as if to confirm the boys existence once again. Rye didn't shy away from leaning towards Imaq, giving her a loving kiss atop her head (if allowed). "Thank you." He said, voice muffled against the top of Imaq head. Another kiss given before returning to gaze at the boy, at their son.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - RIP Eldritch - July 20, 2021
short post + cameo from El! Unless interacted with lol <3
Eldritch was slowly getting better, her paws edging into healing more and more each day.
She was asleep until she heard the sounds, smelt the smells that by instinct she knew as birth.
Curiously, El eased to her feet and went to investigate, staying in the shadows and out of the way as the newest addition was born. Wintersbane came, and one more she knew not.
With a low hum, the shadeling hung ever the silent sentinel within the darkest parts of the entrance.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Imaq - July 20, 2021
The scent of Wintersbane pressed close as she heard his muffled footfalls from beyond the stone walls of her dwelling. The she-dog managed to smother her irrational fear, the desire to lunge forward with defensive snarls and drive the navy tundrian away — thinking he had come to wipe out the tiny threat to his own progeny, to punish her at last for not receiving his blessing to breed. Even so, motherhood had made her fiercely protective of the lone babe tucked against her belly. The gilded merle pressed tighter against the far wall of the den, bending low and curling around Sikuliak so that he was nearly hidden from view. Her lopped auds twitched faintly, somewhat in surprise, to catch the Alpha’s murmured praise and retreat — the last reserves that had held her in fearful suspense of the man crumbling.
Still, she straightened only when a different gait — one she had come to recognize as Rye’s — reached her ears. Imaq had to fight not to wiggle with excitement, knowing that the man of her affections would soon meet their newborn son, as it would only aggravate the parts of her that were sore from childbirth. The woodland agouti’s steps hitched, causing her own heart to falter — scared that for whatever reason, he couldn’t face them. It felt she was stuck, frozen, with her heart lodged in her throat. Until the Hotah popped his head into the den that was.
Then it was pounding, racing with the thrum of a hummingbird’s fast wings. She more than allowed his nearness, the affection he offered mother and son alike. She welcomed him; crooning an almost inaudible hum as he planted a chaste kiss atop her head — cracked gaze falling shut, speckled crown drifting back to turn her face towards him like she would the sun’s warmth. When her eyes had reopened, aquamarines trailing down to watch as he gently nosed Sikuliak with shining eyes full of unbridled curiosity, Imaq bent, tenderly nudging the pup closer to his father — where Rye could see him better and even cuddle him close if he desired.
She curled on her side tiredly, watching the he-wolf meet their cub with a small smile of adoration etched on her lips. After a moment, words flowed from them — soft, hesitant, as if she were reluctant to break the silence.
”Imaq can’t say right. But Imaq…care about Rye. Rye has made Imaq mother. Imaq cannot say…no words big enough to say ‘nakummek’ for this.” Her gaze shifted to Sikuliak, ignoring the way he blurred vaguely with the sheen of unshed tears.
“Imaq would make good nuliak to Rye.” It was even softer, her cerulean optics averted — unwilling to see his rejection if it came. She did not necessarily mean that they should marry at that exact moment — she only meant to offer him…well, everything.
She meant that he might move himself into her den, share this place and their son entirely. She meant to offer him herself; perhaps the Waterwitch would need to rely on him as she healed but she would honor the role of wife as she had been taught. When she was well, she would care for him as hers — making sure he had a clean, welcoming den to return to and a warm embrace to hold him at night.
But just because Rye had been kind and loving towards her since their coupling, didn’t mean that he wanted a future with her outside of their children — or child, if this was a one time occurrence. Maybe he was just being nice. Regardless, Imaq wouldn’t penalize him for rejecting her. He would still be able to be a father to Siku either way. She tried to reassure him of this with a small, nervous smile as her gaze finally flickered to his sunlight optics.
Still, she straightened only when a different gait — one she had come to recognize as Rye’s — reached her ears. Imaq had to fight not to wiggle with excitement, knowing that the man of her affections would soon meet their newborn son, as it would only aggravate the parts of her that were sore from childbirth. The woodland agouti’s steps hitched, causing her own heart to falter — scared that for whatever reason, he couldn’t face them. It felt she was stuck, frozen, with her heart lodged in her throat. Until the Hotah popped his head into the den that was.
Then it was pounding, racing with the thrum of a hummingbird’s fast wings. She more than allowed his nearness, the affection he offered mother and son alike. She welcomed him; crooning an almost inaudible hum as he planted a chaste kiss atop her head — cracked gaze falling shut, speckled crown drifting back to turn her face towards him like she would the sun’s warmth. When her eyes had reopened, aquamarines trailing down to watch as he gently nosed Sikuliak with shining eyes full of unbridled curiosity, Imaq bent, tenderly nudging the pup closer to his father — where Rye could see him better and even cuddle him close if he desired.
She curled on her side tiredly, watching the he-wolf meet their cub with a small smile of adoration etched on her lips. After a moment, words flowed from them — soft, hesitant, as if she were reluctant to break the silence.
”Imaq can’t say right. But Imaq…care about Rye. Rye has made Imaq mother. Imaq cannot say…no words big enough to say ‘nakummek’ for this.” Her gaze shifted to Sikuliak, ignoring the way he blurred vaguely with the sheen of unshed tears.
“Imaq would make good nuliak to Rye.” It was even softer, her cerulean optics averted — unwilling to see his rejection if it came. She did not necessarily mean that they should marry at that exact moment — she only meant to offer him…well, everything.
She meant that he might move himself into her den, share this place and their son entirely. She meant to offer him herself; perhaps the Waterwitch would need to rely on him as she healed but she would honor the role of wife as she had been taught. When she was well, she would care for him as hers — making sure he had a clean, welcoming den to return to and a warm embrace to hold him at night.
But just because Rye had been kind and loving towards her since their coupling, didn’t mean that he wanted a future with her outside of their children — or child, if this was a one time occurrence. Maybe he was just being nice. Regardless, Imaq wouldn’t penalize him for rejecting her. He would still be able to be a father to Siku either way. She tried to reassure him of this with a small, nervous smile as her gaze finally flickered to his sunlight optics.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Rye - July 22, 2021
Rye fought the urge to squeeze himself in the den and rest beside the new mother, fearing he may never leave for an entire fortnight. The woodland man knew, even at that moment, parting from Imaq in the morning would be an undertaking but the instinct to protect, preserve and nourish what laid in the den had grown stronger. Rye knew familiar faces would be met with the sting of distrust, or flat out rejection, and those unknown would certainly be met with utmost aggression. All the same, he welcomed his new drive as if it was long awaited for. The woodland wolf dare not risk the lives of what mattered to him and with that, he would not leave their side for a few days but to gather food or medicine if so desired.
As Rye nosed his babe for the umpteenth time, Imaqs words pulled at his ear, tugging it in her direction. At first the hotah let himself stay occupied with his son but as the merles words bloomed in his ears, he could not keep from looking at her. His tawny golds expressed concern for the tears shimmering in her eyes, the morning lights reflecting its hues within them, and for a moment his chest grew cold with anxious anticipation.
Then she offered him the world.
Words felt foreign in that moment, but not hers, the exuberance of the offer knocked loose some wires and they were damn hard to fix. The only word he could recall was, 'always' and he about said it but the final wire reconnected. Rye knew his answer, yet he feared Imaqs offer was not of her own volition. Their talk in the meadow halted any excitement fluttering in his belly. The doubts grew stronger as he recalled the traditions of her people and suddenly, he felt unsure. It felt different, starkly so against the average indecision or uncertainty that chaperoned wolves as they thought far into their future. No, his hesitancy carried a sickly weight to it. The hotahs expression faded into neutrality, not a speck or a twitch of emotion changed his face. Rye didn't want Imaq to feel obligated to him, although they shared a son, he could never force a marriage. She had said she would choose but the woodland man didn't want to risk anything. If he was to have a partner, he wanted them to be happy with him and with their lives above all else.
"Imaq, I don't want your decision to be based off of him." Rye gazed at the cub below for a moment, then returned to Imaq. "Or based off your traditions, I know you said you would choose but I only want to be sure." His voice was low, as tranquil as a nights breeze. "I want my wife to be happy, more than anything I want you to be happy.. Even if that means you're not with me." The tone changed, easing into a pain stricken somber timbre. Rye was more than capable of selfishness, prone to it even, but though he wholly desired to be with the she-dog, he could not bring himself to blindly accept. In his heart, mind, body and soul, did the hotah know she deserved the chance to have far more than he.
As Rye nosed his babe for the umpteenth time, Imaqs words pulled at his ear, tugging it in her direction. At first the hotah let himself stay occupied with his son but as the merles words bloomed in his ears, he could not keep from looking at her. His tawny golds expressed concern for the tears shimmering in her eyes, the morning lights reflecting its hues within them, and for a moment his chest grew cold with anxious anticipation.
Then she offered him the world.
Words felt foreign in that moment, but not hers, the exuberance of the offer knocked loose some wires and they were damn hard to fix. The only word he could recall was, 'always' and he about said it but the final wire reconnected. Rye knew his answer, yet he feared Imaqs offer was not of her own volition. Their talk in the meadow halted any excitement fluttering in his belly. The doubts grew stronger as he recalled the traditions of her people and suddenly, he felt unsure. It felt different, starkly so against the average indecision or uncertainty that chaperoned wolves as they thought far into their future. No, his hesitancy carried a sickly weight to it. The hotahs expression faded into neutrality, not a speck or a twitch of emotion changed his face. Rye didn't want Imaq to feel obligated to him, although they shared a son, he could never force a marriage. She had said she would choose but the woodland man didn't want to risk anything. If he was to have a partner, he wanted them to be happy with him and with their lives above all else.
"Imaq, I don't want your decision to be based off of him." Rye gazed at the cub below for a moment, then returned to Imaq. "Or based off your traditions, I know you said you would choose but I only want to be sure." His voice was low, as tranquil as a nights breeze. "I want my wife to be happy, more than anything I want you to be happy.. Even if that means you're not with me." The tone changed, easing into a pain stricken somber timbre. Rye was more than capable of selfishness, prone to it even, but though he wholly desired to be with the she-dog, he could not bring himself to blindly accept. In his heart, mind, body and soul, did the hotah know she deserved the chance to have far more than he.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Sikuliak - July 25, 2021
Siku's awareness was pretty minimal considering the state of things but that did not mean that it didn't exist. He could not see nor could he taste, even his hearing and sense of smell were considerably weak in utero, but he could feel. He could sense the body that carried him (though he didn't quite recognize that it was a body nor that said body belonged to his mother), the influx of its emotions causing tiny pings to his own heart that echoed the feelings he would know in depth as he matured and grew. For now, these were nameless sensations -- the love his mother and father held for him, the way his mother's heart would race when Rye was near (making Siku jittery and active as he bounced around on his mom's bladder, blindly trying to find what was so exciting), the ravenous hunger he caused Imaq when her stomach had -- finally -- settled and the enjoyment the food gave her (which he could smell in the amniotic fluid as he practiced breathing).
There was an innate sense of belonging in this place. That this was where he was supposed to be and Siku would have been content to remain in his mother's womb for eternity, in the dreamy state that only those not yet born and those who had crossed over would know. The darkness, the body, the tiny universe of creation within his mother all the epitome of sanctuary.
But he was about to learn his first hard lesson in life, even if it would soon be erased from his short memory: things never remain the same.
The feelings bombarded the boy as he woke, still in his mother's womb, finding himself unbearably cramped even if he was the only one harboring in the darkness at this time. Pain, excitement, fear. All muted by his own confusion, the first emotion that hadn't been influenced by his link to Imaq, as the walls of his abode began to squeeze and force him into the terrifying beyond -- something he had never even paused to consider. (If he'd been capable of considering anything.)
When his damp form met the air and he felt the agony of breathing it into his lungs for the first time, not unlike the way the first fish who walked on land must have felt, he greeted the world not with cries but with a tiny, disbelieving, and outraged gasp.
His howls to be put back might have wrent the air next but his mother had diligently pulled him close and the ecstasy of colostrum had distracted him. He must have dozed, dreaming of the blackness again, only for something to pull him back from that wonderful abyss.
He met his father's awe-struck curiosity with disgruntled whimpers, swinging tiny paws at whatever force had dared to disturb him. When the smell and touch registered, somewhere in the midst of Rye's cuddling, the pup quieted again -- curious. The scent of the man he would know as his father was only vaguely familiar but the sound of his voice was well known. He might not have had milk for the babe but that wouldn't become an issue until he was hungry again.
For now, Sikuliak was satisfied with burrowing closer to his sire, slipping back into sleep with a little wuff of breath -- completely unaware of the serious conversation his parents were engaged in.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Lane - July 26, 2021
just a one-post-wonder for Lane. <3 congrats you two!!
Rye’s crooning voice met her ears, drawing Lane to the entrance of her own chamber in the mother’s section of the caverns. However, it was not her own name on the hotah’s breath, but Imaq’s. Of course it was Imaq! Lane ought to be ashamed, selfishly thinking Rye might be here for her when Imaq labored with his children.
There was still some hurt from Tzila’s delivery lingering—another instance in which Lane’s presence within the mother’s den had been all but ignored by Rye. Because of how all that had unfolded, Lane had some suspicions in the back of her mind about the genetics of Tzila’s litter.
With that particular hurt still smarting, it was downright masochistic for Lane to steal up to Imaq’s doorway to listen, but spurred on by jealousy, she had lost the ability to control herself. Within, she heard the all-too familiar sounds of mewling and suckling, and the hushed whispers of the proud new parents.
Their conversation was low and muffled at first, but soon Lane was able to pull enough words to understand that they were talking about marriage.
Lane burned.
She had kept her crush concealed, eager to see how her friendship with Rye unfolded and unaware that any amount of urgency might be necessary. And now it was too late. Lane shrank from the doorway, feeling almost detached from her own body. She returned to her own chamber upon wobbly legs.
Casting her gaze down upon her sleeping children usually filled her with adoration, but at the moment, she could only think of what they had cost her. Because of them, she was imprisoned here with men who kept choosing other women. Because of them, Rye had been driven into Imaq’s embrace—at least, that was what Lane imagined.
She hoped Veteran and Wayfarer had gotten a good night’s sleep, because when they awoke, they would be moving out. Out of the shared den for certain, and maybe-- once Lane had time to formulate a plan—out of Duskfire Glacier.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - RIP Tzila - July 26, 2021
OOC: Quick Tzi post.
Tzila only emerged briefly from the confines of her den, knowing that her own trio of children wouldn't miss her for too long. She could sense the tension and excitement in the air. It radiated from Imaq, whose time to bless the pack with new life, had come.
She wished the she dog and Rye well. Prayed for a smooth birth and healthy offspring. While there would always be the unanswered question as to @Makatza's true sire, Rye could at the very least, be assured that Imaq's children were his without a doubt. She would not let something so trivial as bloodlines alter the already strong bond they shared as a pack, before the women conceived. If anything, she hoped all these children would bring them closer together. On light paws she whisked by the space in which the new mother and the rightful father occupied. She afforded them a wide berth, glancing in only to issue to them a crooning note of congratulations. Then it was off to tend back to her own brood.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Imaq - July 27, 2021
The world had shrunken to the son she kept her gaze averted to, still not quite able to meet Rye's sunlit gaze. Lane's eavesdropping went unnoticed as loud as her heart was beating in her ears and Tzila's soft welcome to Sikuliak received only an absent -- albeit grateful -- chirrup of a rumble from her throat. It felt the organ would falter and halt altogether when his hesitant words reached her tuliped auds, sinking as she was sure he was working his way up to letting her down easy.
When she registered what the woodlander meant, Imaq's wide aquamarines flew to search his features at last in shock.
Within the next heartbeat, she was pressing close against him -- as close as she could while leaning over Siku that was. Whispering chuckles bubbled up and out of her as she nuzzled against him, rubbing her cheek along his ivory neck and chest. She planted a few relieved, adulated kisses around his ears before pulling back to reassure him.
"Imaq chooses," she promised, hoping that he could see that she meant it, hear it in the tremble of her earnest tones -- even if she didn't have all the words to tell him what he meant to her. "Rye is Imaq's happy. Rye is...when Imaq is with Rye," she stumbled verbally, struggling to phrase the words and having to draw back on what he had said moments before to correct them, "Imaq is not Imaq. Imaq...is free."
When she registered what the woodlander meant, Imaq's wide aquamarines flew to search his features at last in shock.
Within the next heartbeat, she was pressing close against him -- as close as she could while leaning over Siku that was. Whispering chuckles bubbled up and out of her as she nuzzled against him, rubbing her cheek along his ivory neck and chest. She planted a few relieved, adulated kisses around his ears before pulling back to reassure him.
"Imaq chooses," she promised, hoping that he could see that she meant it, hear it in the tremble of her earnest tones -- even if she didn't have all the words to tell him what he meant to her. "Rye is Imaq's happy. Rye is...when Imaq is with Rye," she stumbled verbally, struggling to phrase the words and having to draw back on what he had said moments before to correct them, "Imaq is not Imaq. Imaq...is free."
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Rye - July 31, 2021
Tzilas croon of congratulations was rewarded with a small head bow of acknowledgement before the woodland mans attention returned to Imaq. Her initial reaction was that of shock, a reaction wholly unexpected by Rye. He started to stutter incoherent words, quickly trying to back pedal in whatever direction his brain came up with first but then her muzzle slid across his chest and neck. Kisses were planted around his ear and before he could snap out of his own shock she pulled away. The merle woman began explaining her offer was indeed from her own choosing. Coming to terms with the fact that he, an at times bumbling fool, made her happy was a herculean task at best but realizing he was getting that chance to be with her made him giddy. A once bashful, reluctant smile blossomed into a fully fledged expression of happiness. His heart swooned and he could swear it sang too but perhaps that was just the jubilation fluttering in his chest.
As the final words crossed Imaqs lips Rye leaned in and closed the distance with a kiss, there wasn't a thing he could think of to say that would perfectly express how he felt for her. A kiss was all he managed and even then it wasn't close to good enough.
As his lungs began to signal for fresher oxygen Rye slowly pulled away, a smile returning to his lips. "You are my happy too." He murmured, his gaze rested on the merles eyes, a bottomless pool of sincerity held with the hotahs own tawny golds. "It would be a privilege to have you as my wife until the end of time itself." There was endless things to say but Rye knew to cap himself off there, his soon to be wife had more than earned a long nap and droning on would only lengthen her time before she could catch up on sleep.
As the final words crossed Imaqs lips Rye leaned in and closed the distance with a kiss, there wasn't a thing he could think of to say that would perfectly express how he felt for her. A kiss was all he managed and even then it wasn't close to good enough.
As his lungs began to signal for fresher oxygen Rye slowly pulled away, a smile returning to his lips. "You are my happy too." He murmured, his gaze rested on the merles eyes, a bottomless pool of sincerity held with the hotahs own tawny golds. "It would be a privilege to have you as my wife until the end of time itself." There was endless things to say but Rye knew to cap himself off there, his soon to be wife had more than earned a long nap and droning on would only lengthen her time before she could catch up on sleep.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Imaq - August 10, 2021
Imaq kissed him back, trying hard not to squirm or wriggle with happiness. If she'd had a tail it surely would have been wagging fiercely with how euphoric she felt -- but maybe that had something to do with rampant hormones and a lack of sleep -- or not, given how sore she was. As if on cue, the she-dog was halted from saying anything immediately by a ferocious yawn, tucking her foreleg over her muzzle as a soft whine escaped her with the effort of her exhaustion.
Instead she offered her soon-to-be mate -- how strange to think he would soon be her husband but it sent an ecstatic little thrill racing through her heart -- a bright smile before shifting closer to curl against his side as best she could. Her spotted muzzle dipped down, gently rearranging their cub so that he lay in front of her, against Rye's legs.
Sleepily, her cerulean gaze watched as Siku's tiny chest rose and fell -- occasionally flitting drowsily to the man at her side, as if to ascertain that he was truly there -- until she could hold her eyelids up no longer and surrendered to sleep.
Just before she gave in, the isabella merle brushed her head against the Hotah's ribcage. "Ânalligik ipvit." It was a whisper of an exhale as it left her lips.
Instead she offered her soon-to-be mate -- how strange to think he would soon be her husband but it sent an ecstatic little thrill racing through her heart -- a bright smile before shifting closer to curl against his side as best she could. Her spotted muzzle dipped down, gently rearranging their cub so that he lay in front of her, against Rye's legs.
Sleepily, her cerulean gaze watched as Siku's tiny chest rose and fell -- occasionally flitting drowsily to the man at her side, as if to ascertain that he was truly there -- until she could hold her eyelids up no longer and surrendered to sleep.
Just before she gave in, the isabella merle brushed her head against the Hotah's ribcage. "Ânalligik ipvit." It was a whisper of an exhale as it left her lips.
RE: who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death - Rye - August 14, 2021
Archiving
Rye let go of his reservations on cuddling up with the exhausted pair, nothing else mattered more to him than what laid right in front of him. Lesser responsibilities could wait, if only for a night. Regardless of whether or not the hotah truly understood what the merle said, he gave her one final affection atop her head before finding a comfortable position to lay. Remaining aware of his sleeping son in the process. Rye watched and waited for Imaqs breathing to even out, choosing only then to let himself drift off into his own slumber. The year had been a wild, untamed mess for the hotah but somehow, amidst all the chaos he found love and through that came the joy of child rearing.