Qeya River symphony of life

it's tiiiiime <3 @Attuaserk @Malrok babes will arrive next post!

The last, oh, two weeks? Sakhmet had been carried by a new fever. One to dig out a safe place, somewhere sheltered when she was now too round to move much further than the river.

It had become abundantly clear that this would be where they stayed. Now alone with Duskfire well and gone, Rivenwood seemingly fallen by the wayside. Just them — and the quickly approaching children — were all that stood here.

Which was good as she found herself in a steady flow of pain.

Low and spaced at first. Something that quickly grew closer together in the darkening hours, a fierceness behind it now that was not there at first.

Sakhmet fell into an instinct she had not felt before this moment. Of course, she had felt a protectiveness over herself these last few weeks but now it peaked. A rapid fury to clear the den so she was safe and alone. If @Kigipigak was inside the den with her, she sought to drive him out of it. Towards the mouth of the den where she would allow him to stay. No closer, not yet.

It would be her sounds of growing pain and the shifting scent in the den that would warn him of just what was happening — if he had not placed the pieces together yet.

omg I'm so excited!!!

Between carrying the children or caring for the carrier, Kigipigak had the easier job. In the two weeks prior to their birth the man had done his duty well: training @Njord, or hunting with he and his son @Loko, when they came to visit, and otherwise doing everything possible to keep Sakhmet and her cargo safe.

When the time came he had been asleep outside. She'd chosen a spot for denning and wouldn't let him near to help with the excavation of the dirt, which tracked with what Kigipigak knew of women; it was not a man's job to sleep within the belly of the world. He was more than a little nervous as he watched her work - but it all paid off.

Kigipigak woke for his usual rounds of the riverside, but first he ducked his head and shoulders in to the den to visit with his wife and to kiss her; except this time he was driven out by snapping teeth and mania, which oddly, strengthened Kigipigak's spirit.

Sakhmet was fierce. She was beloved, and in those moments of frenzy he saw how much she'd grown in to herself. She would be a warrior for these children. They would survive, thrive even, because of how strong she was. As he withdrew Kigipigak paced outside the den's mouth where it tapered towards the embankment and was at war with himself: prideful, loving, and untethered by impatience.

Sakhmet had been marred by pain at a young age.

But it had always been emotional. The loss of two brothers, the loss of her home and family. Loss, loss, loss.

She had never been kissed by pain from receiving. She had never felt what kind of pain came from blessings. This was it though. The pain that drove her instincts to take over, the sensations of fierce protectiveness for herself and those about to enter this world.

It was euphoria as much as it was hell.

There would be one, at first. A small but robust son who, regardless if he was loud or quiet, would be quickly cleaned and shoved to her side. Hopefully comforted by the warmth and promise of food to be found.

Some time would pass before the second one. Enough that she briefly worried before the familiar sensation kicked her again. The second one arrived in a similar state to the first.

Another son, just as healthy from what she could tell. Tongue smothering him as it had the first before she moved him to her side as well.

Pain lingered and pulsed, but there would be nothing else. Nothing that Lane had warned her of. It would remain a possibility and not a reality. She had nothing half formed or unmoving. She had been gifted two lively sons, each whole and perfect.

She had never felt her heart swell as much as it did here.

Two sons.

Alive and healthy.

Born of Sakhmet and Kigipigak.

Sons, It was all she could muster in her to whisper in the dark of the den.

sort of a cameo post? at any rate: he's skippable!

attuaserk comes into the world unquiet; demanding.

his lungs fill with air that feels cold to him after the eternal warmth of his mother's womb and releases in squalid screams that he cannot hear but only feel in the vibrations of his throat. strange things, these vibrations but not unpleasant.

it is the only way he knows how to communicate; though is unsure what, exactly he wants.

not the soothing of his mother's tongue, cleaning the debris of birth from him. he still screams as if he is filled with insatiable rage.

it is only as he is pressed to her side and guided by instincts that his war cries settle as he suckles greedily, sakhmet's sweet mother milk soothing him to eventual slumber that went undisturbed even when his brother was born and saddled beside him.

Malrok, second born, is the polar opposite of his lusty brother. Quiet, serene, satisfied. He slips from her womb into the world a silent thing, breathing deep upon his sac breaking,

And then trundles, with the bone-deep nature of a newborn, toward her teat.

He suckles, but does not fight the other pup for control. He slips into slumber, and with it, deep dreams. There is no jagged edge between his life before and after birth;

It is the same.

He is still of himself.

He curls against Sakhmet's rounded side and sleeps, snoring somewhat loudly, tiny face slack and at ease.

The noises that erupt from the ulaq are the sounds of war, the likes of which Kigipigak has never heard. It is a puny, powerful voice crowing in the small expanse and it fuels some anxiety within the new father.

He continues to pace outside, trying to get a glimpse of Sakhmet or any of the newborns, while knowing this was the place of women; they were alone together, the pair, and Sakhmet lacked a woman's circle of protection.

Do you need anything? He called, needing some use for his nervous, excited, unnatural energies.

She wished to drive him back as much as she wished to pull him near.

How could she deny him these precious moments? Wouldn't it be better if they met their father sooner? To know the low rumbles of his voice, to know how much he surely loved them.

Kigipigak, She spoke, tired and drained but heart pumping full of love. We need you. They need to know you.

She could not deprive them, she could not deprive him.

She calls to him. Kigipigak can hear the newborns mewling within the ulaq as well, which draws him to the precipice. He peers inside to see them: his dark-coated wife with these two puny, strong boys.

As Kigipigak ducks in to the ulaq he feels suddenly claustrophobic. This is not the place for him right now; this is the place for a women's circle, but their efforts to build a home are slow-going, so there is only Kigipigak.

One boy squalls until he finds a teat. The other sleeps, making his own small noises. Together they dominate the space despite being the smallest things Kigipigak had ever seen in his life. Was he ever this small? He wants to touch them but, at the same time, Kigipigak does not trust himself.

He loves them. He knows that much -- and they're so small. The new father stares at them, and at Sakhmet, while placing his head on his paws, utterly enthralled.

we can fade this whenever <3

As much as she craved her privacy, she realized with him here, that she enjoyed showing off her sons to the world.

She wished @Kukutux was here to see them, to see that Kigipigak's departure from Moonglow had brought with it love and the baby roots of a village. That everything she had ever said had been right.

She wished Maegi could see that the life of their blood lived on, in two sons tucked against her side. That all of the pain and loss had not been for nothing. That there was hope and renewal.

They will need names, She informs him, soft and hushed. Head finally settled down on the ground, pale eyes fluttered heavily.

They stole his entire focus. No - he gave it willingly. Before them, Kigipigak thought Sakhmet to be the pinnacle of his life; she was his heart, and she owned his soul. Yet if these boys were ever in danger he knew upon seeing them this first time, that between the children and his beloved wife, he would choose them. They were the future and they encapsulated everything about life and what it meant to Kigipigak to be alive, or to be a man; they would live and they would thrive.

They will need names.

Yes, and the names would come. He smiles in a dopey manner down to them. Kigipigak looks almost lethargic as he tugs his attention back to Sakhmet's face and gives a small downward nod. Atuaserk, the first son, and Malrok. They will earn their names - as I earned mine. Once Sisamat, now Kigipigak -- now taataga.

Kigipigak would linger until they were all asleep, and then after, until he knew within his bones that they would need their space - and he would seek out food for them. A happy wife, and all that.