Duskfire Glacier g*spy witchcraft

extra tag(s) for reference!

it's been two weeks since he and @Tzila had coupled and while he couldn't remember being about a pregnant woman long enough to know symptoms he wonders if she — or even lane for that matter — would know by now. it's early in the morning when the feverkissed tundrian wakes, tends to his patrols and catches two rabbits. he leaves one of the rabbits for @Lane knowing that eventually he would have to check in on her and catch up with her in full.

the second rabbit, he seeks out the scarlet caped tzila to offer. with the plump prize cradled betwixt his jaws wintersbane finds her most recent scent and follows it, hoping it will lead him to her.

In the weeks that had passed since the impassioned coupling between her and Wintersbane, some things had changed and others hadn't. Around roughly this time last year, her body had again, experienced the early symptoms of pregnancy. It had been a rocky dizziness and a constant flipping of her stomach. This year was different. In their place were other symptoms, much fiercer than those she had experienced. So far, four times every hour, Tzila was forced to empty her bladder, made worse by her urgent thirst. Though annoying, it was nothing compared to her soaring emotions. The Shadow Queen was severely hormonal, going from highs to lows. No one, including herself, knew what sort of state she'd be in one minute or the next.

Also as in last year, she made it a point to keep busy. Active. She wasn't a woman who just sat around watching the clouds go by while others worked. Even up until the very end, when she could hardly move any further, she would keep mobile. Time would tell if this year, if her pregnancy would be a lean one, like her first, or different.

She was keenly aware, that after coupling with Wintersbane, and what she had said to him, and how, that it had not been solely influenced by her needy state. There was depth. Perhaps a little disturbingly, she found herself thinking of him in such ways more often that might be good for her. Every word, each breath shared between them that day, whispered and repeated itself dimly in her mind. Was it so wrong of her to want more than what she had been given? Than what she had? Those in the past would know Tzila was an ambitious creature. She saw little reason to settle now, after having lost so much.

On patrol, she maintained a nooses grip on the borders. She had already chased off two foxes and a coyote, releasing her pent up feelings to channel them into productive aggression. Shamelessly, she even stole the rightful prize of the lesser canine. A round, plump mouse, well fed by the spring bounty. It was just a snack, but one she gobbled down in a mouthful, before resuming her work. A raised hind leg and a high tail in a display of her self-imposed dominant state of mind gave way to her scent, laced with the barest traces of new life.

though wintersbane does not actively recall — on any occasion ( but that doesn't mean he wasn't ) — ever being around a pregnant female before, he knows the subtle change in the air. knows it because it is the same for any species: predator or prey. pheromones that tell him that new life was beginning to blossom within the womb. it lingers like a tease on the air as he closes in on tzila, following her scent. it's a small change but wintersbane feels a rush of heated pride all the same.

his step quickens and soon she comes into view. he stops paces away, dropping his catch at his paws — salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls in an attempt to clean them — before giving a soft chuff to grab her attention. tzila, he rasps a heartbeat later. this is for you. he motions to the catch at his paws with a small gesture of his muzzle.

how do you feel? is it too soon to know for sure? is what he desires to ask but doesn't, instead content to let it remain unspoken. at least, for the time being.

Fixed on continuing her rounds as usual, with the added hope of burning off some of her extra energy, she moved a single paw forwards. Then came to her ears the soft, chuffing call. Just for her. She recognized that voice anywhere. That scent too, so raw. As she turned to face him, Tzila found she didn't know what was more enticing. The Tundrian's own scent, or that of the freshly caught rabbit deposited at his paws.

Tips of blackened ears dipped down in a showing of appreciation, feathered tail tip fluttering. She hurried over to greet him, ducking down a little lower than normal. Her mannerisms were nothing short of excitable and affectionate as she circled him several times, and rather closely at that. Gently nudging or nosing at his fur. "Thank you, Wintersbane." She placed a paw over the rabbit, not moving to devour it. She would store it away and consume it later. After skinning it of course. Knowing that she would soon have tiny lives to look after, an ample supply of soft furs for them to cozy up on would be beneficial.

Pulling back to give themselves both some more space, she furrowed her brows for a second. "Overall, not too badly. I'm taking more personal breaks than I care to. And my moods...they are all over the place." Silver eyes latched onto blue one's. "Last year I was much more nauseous and dizzy, but not this time. I think...no, I am sure I'm pregnant." A glimmer, a smile reached her eyes. Maybe those symptoms would come later, or not at all. If she got too concerned, or if he did, there was always a herbalist or medic nearby to consult.

he gives a sage nod; not good at expressing, but grateful that she accepts it. he isn't sure how the gestures will be seen ( by either woman ) and spends some time worrying about whether leaving them food might be misconstrued. ...and truth be told, he does not know what he's doing. this is a dance he has never before partaken in; clumsy and coltish with his steps. the women whose children he had sired had always left; returning from whatever pack they came from and had never sought him out further.

though wintersbane is excited about the prospect of being a father in earnest ...he is also riddled with nagging worry and pestering anxieties.

nevertheless, tzila is gracious and tucks the rabbit away for later.

she gives him a rundown of how she's feeling and lacking the skills of any sort of midwife wintersbane isn't entirely sure if it means they were successful or not.

that's good news. wintersbane says with a soft clear of his throat, again unsure how to express the blossoming joy in his chest; buoyant and ignorant of the fact that the cubs she carried might not even be his at all.

Unlike Wintersbane, who had not been around the women who carried his children, last year Tzila had Astaroth by her side throughout her entire term. It was only some time after her son, Sotiris was born, did he distance himself and then vanish altogether. Something told her that Wintersbane would not abandon her nor the pups she carried. Even if they might not all be his.

She peered at him closely, trying to get a read and a feel of his emotions behind his features. She couldn't tell how excited or nervous he was. Didn't know what he might be feeling. Rye popped into her mind, and the fling she had with him. While she had not said anything of it to anyone else, she was left wondering if the Tundrian knew at all. Regardless of whether he did or not, she would hide nothing. "What about you? How are you feeling, knowing you will be a father? That these lives...you will be a part of them."

wintersbane feels her gaze upon him, as if he is a closed book she is trying to figure out how to open; and really, if that is the case it would not surprise him. like his father before him, he struggles to express emotion openly; verbally. he is used to keep it close to his chest; used to keeping it inside and keeping the carefully composed mask upon his scarred visage. tzila asks him questions that feel too hard to explain. how could he put them into words? none of them feel accurate enough for him.

maybe, if wintersbane was being honest with himself, he didn't dare let himself feel anything too strong. experience told him that when he was on the cusp of having everything he wanted it would be stolen from him.

he lets out a small snort; mostly at himself. honestly? he begins, knowing that if he was truthful with her it might let her see how damaged he really was. unreal —

like at any moment i'll wake up and everything will be stolen from me.

Unlike Wintersbane, Tzila wore her heart on her sleeve. Ninety percent of the time, her emotions were easily readable. She was capable though, of suppressing some of them when she chose. Such as when she did not want others to guess so easily at her thoughts. That was the very case when it came to feeling strongly for another being. She locked her heart behind icy chains and threw away the key, just out of reach.

Instead of pressing him further with more words or questions, the Shadow Queen only read him with a quiet glimmer of understanding deep in her eyes when he spoke with truth. She had only dipped so far into the twistedness and loss that was his past. But already, with what they had shared and experienced, she felt on the level with him. And at first, she uttered a soft "I don't blame you..."

She let it hang in the air, the inches parting them. While never once, taking her eyes off his granite and ice form. Dark ears splaying back, she took a single step closer. "I know how you feel." She dared push in, nestling her crown in against the thick hairs of his neck. "Far, far too well." Tzila had nearly had it all and then lost and lost again. First Astaroth, who was never truly hers. Then his sheer presence in her life. Followed by her son, through no fault of her own. Where her voice had been choked, nearly pained, it was now full of promise. Promise that would not be shattered. "I will not let that happen. I swear it." And on the tip of her tongue, but unsaid "Just ask, and I will give you everything."

where there should be joy, there is only that looming shadow of grief, of torment ...of fear. this is as close as wintersbane's ever came to having a family ...and it occurs to him that he wasn't even doing it right. he was treating it all like a business transaction, like a contract. was that really family? how could he expect his children to not come to resent him?

he thinks of his own strained relationship with his father made too short by the series of unfortunate events that had swept wintersbane up and blanches; ears fluttering back against his skull. despite not knowing the circumstances of lotte's death it had been easy to pin the blame and the hate on arturo.

the feverkissed tundrian is statue-still, carved from the ice and stone of the glacier he claims as tzila draws nearer. nearer and nearer —

gradually, wintersbane softens as he feels to press of her crown against his neck. touched in a way he hadn't been touched since andraste. it brings with it a miasma of emotions; at it's helm confusion and his innate nature to smother anything resembling affection. he doesn't want to feel those things ...not when history showed him it would only lead to more fissures in his heart.

how? the word wrangles itself from betwixt wintersbane's lips; a smokey rasp of choked things he does not want to be present in his tone but ultimately fails.

Tzila remained close, but did not press in any further. She did not want to offend or upset the Tundrian by crossing boundaries that he had made clear. But at the same time, she couldn't help but want to push the envelope just a bit. Driven by her own emotions, her wants. Her hopes and dreams. Though she too, held back for fear they may be shattered.

"Because." Came her low, soft voice, rolling from the comfort of his dark fur. "I am here." She pulled back, but only to rear up, letting her legs drape and rest gently around his shoulders. Her black face and lunar eyes peered down into him, deep. "Because once is enough. Because I will it to be so." And again, she uttered "I am here for them...all of them..." She referred to both their unborn children and the entirety of the pack. "And for you."

there is a part of wintersbane that wants to allow her words to wash over him; to find solace in them. he wants to believe — and there had been apart of him ready to settle down again. ready to move on from the heartbreaks, from the tragedy that followed him 'round like death's shadow. it was what had spurned him to seek out kukutux's match-making skills, after all.

and then moonspear —

gingerly, wintersbane feeds that part of himself; that snarling heart that yearns to be unchained. that if any lesson should've been taken from the fall of the spear was that life was short and was to be enjoyed. savored.

not spent locked up in a fortress of his own making.

and maybe ...just maybe it would be easier if spent with someone with shared life experiences. someone who understood the hesitation and the fear and the coldness that he wears like an armor.

maybe —

maybe it wouldn't hurt to admit that there were feelings taking root in his heart. to stop fighting and try again. third time was the charm, right? tzila..., he draws her name upon a breath. what do you want? he asks, trying to judge and see if she is on a similar level as him, if he is not alone in ...whatever he feels sparking in his chest when she is near.

their last conversation had been rather clear cut with one another but wintersbane knew — perhaps far too well — how things could change.

For but only a second, her heart stopped when her name was on his lips. Dark ears cupped forward intently, her toes curling with more pressure against his shoulders. Then he asked her. What do you want? Lunar eyes grew wider ever so slightly, perhaps in shock. Perhaps in realization. Or perhaps in hope, if she so dared. She had grown quiet. Too quiet. Slowly, as if under the control of someone else's pull, she drew back to remove her weight from him, sitting frozen.

For many it would have been such an easy question, with a simple, straightforward answer. And for her, it normally would be just that. But not this time. Not now, in this moment. There were many things Tzila desired, or at least had, in the past. Power. Respect. Reputation. Allies. Even a family. With downcast eyes, she searched her innermost feelings. Dug in deep in her heart, trying to find what called to her the most. It didn't take long. But accepting it, admitting it, as was evident by her almost pained expression, was where the real struggle lay. She knew without a doubt, what she yearned for. Even if her heart and mind were at odds with one another.

Unable and too afraid to say it in black and white, she settled for a more subtle but no less direct answer. Peeling her eyes up off the ground, they latched onto his glacial one's. "To be wanted. To be needed." She managed softly. For the first time in her life, her voice threatened to break.

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tzila's weight drops from his shoulders and she places distance between them; leaving wintersbane to attempt to puzzle out why he felt the lure to close it again, as if tugged by an invisible chord. the tundrian takes a small, shallow breath and then a larger, deeper one, leaving it to drift from his nose upon his exhale. slow and steady; like the expel of smoke from a drag on a cigarette.

to be wanted. to be needed —

simple enough wishes; the natural desires of all living things, he supposes.

it wasn't as clear cut as wintersbane'd hoped but, lately, it felt as if the two of them were content to speak to one another in riddles; skirting around the truth and elegantly dodging the real questions. the tough questions.

a clear of his throat is given as he processes her words and what he intends to do with them. does she want these things from him? could she? or is there another? or would anyone do?

his weight shifts, crushing grass beneath his paws. i see, the feverkissed tundrian replies. seems like you're selling yourself a bit short, doesn't it? wintersbane inquires on a soft rasp. an admirable woman such as yourself deserves those things and more.

if wintersbane was sure of one thing, it was that he was no fucking good at this.

The scarlet caped woman found that she didn't terribly mind the mysteries woven between them. Though she longed to peel back to curtains edge and find certain answers, she still clung to the near see through veil that enshrouded them. His mystery, his unknowns... The figurative lock that bound the icy gray leather that was his book shut, withholding the script on the pages she so yearned to read. He was a curiosity to her. That was what kept pulling her towards him by some force she didn't understand.

She had been holding her breath, she realized, as she waited for Wintersbane to respond. Slowly, she let it out, carefully so, in hopes that he might not notice. She dared not reveal too much, no matter how very badly she wanted to. The silent, intense glimmer in her eyes said clearly, that she did indeed, have one specific man in mind. 

Then there was that pull again. That overwhelming urge, the instinct to be near him. Could it be her hormones, her body acting up from the pregnancy, she wondered? Or did it stem from somewhere else entirely? "I have had my chance. I was burnt once, and that was enough. I don't know if I could take it again. I'm...more fragile than you might realize." She turned, moving around to his other side, letting only her tail trace up the length of his spine in a tender touch. "Besides, I can't think of anyone who would want me."

and because you've been spurned by one man that, that was it? all you were worth? wintersbane asks; rasping voice alight with the truth of how he feels about her situation. that an unrequited crush should not hold her prisoner. were that the case, wintersbane should be counting three failed relationships instead of two. there was, once upon a time in the throes of his youth, where he crushed hard on hydra; unrequited.

and yet that hadn't stopped him from loving relmyna, from loving andraste —

and being a widow twice over shouldn't stop him now. life was shit most of the time and maybe he was cursed but ...fuck it all.

her admission — that she was fragile — weighs heavy upon him; and while it forces him to consider, does not ultimately change his course.

you can't possibly believe that's true, wintersbane protests; the tease of her tail not going unnoticed. and if that's the criteria then there's no hope for me. because he was definitely damaged goods.

She shook her head. "There's more to it than that. It wasn't just him, but the added loss of my son as well." She clarified. "I had gotten my hopes up with that man, and before I never considered the idea of love in the slightest." She had been different. Conditioned to be cold, ruthless and brutal. Astaroth had made her want to be a better wolf. Even with him gone, knowing that Sotiris might still be alive out there somewhere was enough incentive for her to keep pushing towards that goal.

Sighing, she lowered her head slightly, as if accepting her overreaction. "Perhaps you are right. All I need is a sign. But it has been hard, this internal struggle of mine I have faced before. Sorry." She said, trying to wrap up the end of the topic focused on her. Dark ears pricked slightly. She had read into his last words well. Perhaps too well. 

"No hope for you, you say?" She turned to face him full on, head tipping to her left slightly. "But Wintersbane, do I not recall that you implied that you are done hoping? That you wish for no such attachment, ever again?" She reached out, her dark cool nose brushing along the scar lining the bridge of his muzzle. "Tell me, what do you truly want?" She urged him, asking him to look deep within his frozen heart.

while wintersbane understands how a child going missing hurts, he is also of the mind that children leaving the nest is expected. a way of life. sometimes they just left too early: him, being an example. he thinks then of quellcrist and the patriarchal worry he'd harbored when she had left sagtannet and yet at the same time, he'd known it to be the way of children. sometimes they stayed: moonspear being the only example he could think of. i understand, at least as far as he could. he couldn't understand her pain in it's entirely and he acknowledges that.

well, the tundrian drawls on a lofty breath; taking a moment as it lingers in his lungs to contemplate his words. perhaps it's time i reconsider. though he teeter-totters between the two he finds himself leaning towards settling down. was that not the reason duskfire glacier came to be, after all? i want many things, he answers vaguely; cheekily, even.

i want, wintersbane begins in more seriousness. a stable relationship. one where i don't question whether it's requited or not, he thinks then of andraste and her tumultuous relationship and contract with mahler, though he presumes with their union it had ended. still, even in the rare times he thinks about it — it begs to question. a stable relationship for my children.

He understood, he said. How much of it, or in what aspects, she wanted to clarify. But she felt no need to. They had both played a part in bringing children into the world. The only difference was that she had been a first time mother, and he had been sire to more than one child. It was perhaps her inexperience that made her hurt sting so much more, on top of Astaroth leaving, when Sotiris pulled away, striking out early. She thought of the developing pups inside her. Would these be any different? Would they stay longer by her side, so she could fawn over them and rear them into fine young wolves?

Wintersbane's voice snapped her back, out of her thoughts of the future. She drew in a breath again, this one slightly audible, as he entertained the idea of reconsidering his stance on relationships. She tried to quiet the fluttering of her heart, thrumming so loudly in both her chest and her ears. The blood rush making her feel nervous but excited all at the same time. She fell silent for perhaps one moment too many, precariously close, peering into his icy eyes intently. "I could never bring myself to admit it, but I want that too. I am sick of having to settle for halfway." She affirmed. "These pups...any child deserves that." She swallowed back the slight lump of dread in her voice, for fear of what she may not hear. "Do...you have anyone in mind?"

as the time of birth of his cubs draws ever nearer ...with lane and tzila herself, wintersbane is left to reconsider many things. how easy it had been to stand on firm principle and claim that he wanted to be a father without committing to the mother(s) of his cubs. looking back upon it simply makes him feel like an ass ...even if it had been terms agreed upon.

one night stands were one thing ...but to make such contracts with the women of his own pack strikes him as cruel in the hindsight.

it makes wintersbane reevaluate the relationship his father, arturo, had had with lotte and hemlocke. how they had formed a polygamous relationship with each other: a triangle of equalled affection. lotte and hemlocke had been wives of each other just as much as they'd been wives of arturo.

perhaps, he considers, such a thing would not be possible in other circumstances. perhaps it had worked so well for the trio that had formed teaghlaigh but was simply not applicable elsewhere.

logically, wintersbane begins softly, trying to figure out how to weave the words without insult. it should be with the mothers of my cubs, if any of them would have me.

His answer left her with mixed feelings. It gave her hope but also kept her firmly on the line where she had placed herself emotionally. With the mothers of his cubs, he said. Tzila already knew he had bred with Lane. With the understanding that it was just like a business deal, she felt no jealousy. She also wouldn't be surprised if he laid with other women throughout the season, as it was his right as Alpha to do so. Still, in knowing that she was among those he had laid with boosted her spirits some. Tzila would hold out, waiting until the heated season was over. 

All this talk of puppies, especially the one's developing inside her, had stirred a nagging in the back of her mind. Wintersbane was not the only one to take more than a single partner. Now, before her pregnancy (and feelings) grew, she needed to clear the air. Electing not to respond directly to his answer yet, and facing her emotions again revolving around her past with Astaroth, she cleared her throat. "Come with me..." She began to lead him away, to a more secluded spot past the trees. "There's something I need to discuss with you, while it is still early..."