When Suzy returned home, she was emotionally exhausted, and yet still she could not sleep. She drifted through the parklands, passing briefly by Bluepeace meadow to see that all of her new siblings and her mother were home and asleep.
She roved out into the middle of the meadow where the grass was tall, and swayed gently in the night breeze. The moonlight cast a blue-silver glow, that rippled in shadows with every breath of the nearby ocean.
She closed her eyes, and began to breathe rhythmically, in and out with the gusts from the shoreline, hoping it would lull her to sleep.
She roved out into the middle of the meadow where the grass was tall, and swayed gently in the night breeze. The moonlight cast a blue-silver glow, that rippled in shadows with every breath of the nearby ocean.
She closed her eyes, and began to breathe rhythmically, in and out with the gusts from the shoreline, hoping it would lull her to sleep.
June 21, 2024, 03:43 PM
When her daughter returned, Chacal happened upon her trail along the borders, and stopped dead in her tracks.
It came to her as no surprise that her daughter's season had finally come. She was not rattled by the thought that Suzu might have gone looking for a man either- grandchildren would be a welcome surprise!- but what caused her to halt, peel back her lips and seethe was the scent that was mingled with Suzu's.
She hunted after her daughter with a swift, hunter's pace, hackles raised- to come upon her not far from the den where she had been raised, where her siblings had been raised- carrying with her the scent of
"Swordfish?!?"
It came to her as no surprise that her daughter's season had finally come. She was not rattled by the thought that Suzu might have gone looking for a man either- grandchildren would be a welcome surprise!- but what caused her to halt, peel back her lips and seethe was the scent that was mingled with Suzu's.
She hunted after her daughter with a swift, hunter's pace, hackles raised- to come upon her not far from the den where she had been raised, where her siblings had been raised- carrying with her the scent of
"Swordfish?!?"
It can be assumed that if Chacal is speaking, she will be singing. Her speaking patterns will always have a melodic quality to them.
June 21, 2024, 03:47 PM
Suzu knew the cadence of her mother's step by heart; she knew her mother to be graceful, light-footed and nimble, and knew the sound of her paws as she thundered into battle. Thus, she rose suddenly to hear her mother's footsteps beating a pattern that raised her alarm. She lifted her own tail and glanced about, catching sight of her mother's storming pace, and then looking in the opposite direction as if expecting to see some predator bearing down upon her.
It seemed the threat, instead, was not a creature at all- but the scent of one.
The name was barked; spittle dappled her cheeks, and she squinted against her mother's hot, terrible breath.
"I-!" She blurted, suddenly flustered and ashamed.
She knew she wanted him again.
She tipped her chin up, the proud Dahomey-Rivaini that she was. She shrugged one of her shoulders, where the fur was still lightly ruffled.
"Yes, and?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and blinking slowly at her irate mother.
It seemed the threat, instead, was not a creature at all- but the scent of one.
The name was barked; spittle dappled her cheeks, and she squinted against her mother's hot, terrible breath.
"I-!" She blurted, suddenly flustered and ashamed.
She knew she wanted him again.
She tipped her chin up, the proud Dahomey-Rivaini that she was. She shrugged one of her shoulders, where the fur was still lightly ruffled.
"Yes, and?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and blinking slowly at her irate mother.
June 29, 2024, 01:10 PM
If her daughter had come home distraught, smelling of the traitor’s son, she would have welcomed her with open arms, tears in her eyes for the sorrow her daughter carried. She would threaten the winds with curses they might carry to the young man, so that his heart might bleed from their dagger-whispers.
If her daughter had come home ashamed, smelling of the traitor’s son, she would have brushed such regrets aside, and spoken to her of the blessing she might yet receive in the form of children. Still, she would have cursed the winds- but would have begun praying as well that Suzu’s children reminded her nothing of their father.
If her daughter had come home frightened and full of regret, smelling of the traitor’s son, she could have pulled from secret stashes a medicine that might cleanse her of what she might consider to be an affliction. She would rally a few, and follow the girl’s scent, so she could curse the young man in person.
But here was Suzu- smelling of the traitor’s son, unashamed, unphased, without any apparent regret. She saw pride in that arched brow, and her gaze smouldered to realize just how much her daughter had grown to forget the affliction that Njord and his family had been.
She felt at a loss for words, and fumed silently for a moment.
You did not want dis. You said so yourself.
‘Is fat’er was a coward! ‘E deserted us in our time of need!
Out of all de men in all de world- could you not ‘ave found someone else? Do you t’ink so little of yourself as to stoop an’ bed de traitor’s son?
The workings of her inner mind were not melodic; her thoughts flowed freely when she did not have to give them her voice. Recently, her melodies had begun to fail as well, and her stutter had returned. At a time like this, as stressed as she was, she felt she might do more damage than good to her own reputation if she spoke and was perceived as not only being brash, but incapable of forming a coherent sentence.
She breathed, tasting the salt air; she closed her eyes, allowing the budding tears to hang upon her lashes as she wished that her mothers could be there to offer her guidance.
Swordfish wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be a father- or a packmate. Who had Mireille mated with? Who had she herself mated with- only to deny them access to their children? It wouldn’t have mattered if their father had been a criminal or a saint, really- because Sapphique was stronger than the DNA any man could offer.
She opened her eyes, and noted how her daughter glowed in the moonlight. Her expression softened. She realized then just how much patience her daughter had, to allow her mother so much time to process.
”Berceuse, m-m-m-my ‘eart an’ soul;
If dis ‘as ‘appened, den it be so.
Soon Sapphique may yet again grow.”
If her daughter had come home ashamed, smelling of the traitor’s son, she would have brushed such regrets aside, and spoken to her of the blessing she might yet receive in the form of children. Still, she would have cursed the winds- but would have begun praying as well that Suzu’s children reminded her nothing of their father.
If her daughter had come home frightened and full of regret, smelling of the traitor’s son, she could have pulled from secret stashes a medicine that might cleanse her of what she might consider to be an affliction. She would rally a few, and follow the girl’s scent, so she could curse the young man in person.
But here was Suzu- smelling of the traitor’s son, unashamed, unphased, without any apparent regret. She saw pride in that arched brow, and her gaze smouldered to realize just how much her daughter had grown to forget the affliction that Njord and his family had been.
She felt at a loss for words, and fumed silently for a moment.
You did not want dis. You said so yourself.
‘Is fat’er was a coward! ‘E deserted us in our time of need!
Out of all de men in all de world- could you not ‘ave found someone else? Do you t’ink so little of yourself as to stoop an’ bed de traitor’s son?
The workings of her inner mind were not melodic; her thoughts flowed freely when she did not have to give them her voice. Recently, her melodies had begun to fail as well, and her stutter had returned. At a time like this, as stressed as she was, she felt she might do more damage than good to her own reputation if she spoke and was perceived as not only being brash, but incapable of forming a coherent sentence.
She breathed, tasting the salt air; she closed her eyes, allowing the budding tears to hang upon her lashes as she wished that her mothers could be there to offer her guidance.
Swordfish wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be a father- or a packmate. Who had Mireille mated with? Who had she herself mated with- only to deny them access to their children? It wouldn’t have mattered if their father had been a criminal or a saint, really- because Sapphique was stronger than the DNA any man could offer.
She opened her eyes, and noted how her daughter glowed in the moonlight. Her expression softened. She realized then just how much patience her daughter had, to allow her mother so much time to process.
”Berceuse, m-m-m-my ‘eart an’ soul;
If dis ‘as ‘appened, den it be so.
Soon Sapphique may yet again grow.”
It can be assumed that if Chacal is speaking, she will be singing. Her speaking patterns will always have a melodic quality to them.
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