Boartusk Heights the vampire diaries
La Muerte
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june 12, 2024

after only a week, my children have grown so much. they continue to fight, and perhaps that'll never change, but it is comforting to see them all so lively. soon, they'll open their eyes. this decision to keep four has not backfired on me. perhaps it never will.
besides, if any of them have the gall to betray me, i will always have one more at my side, ready to take the throne from the fool who could abandon it. 
though, perhaps, i should prepare myself for it — they are nivis' as much as they are mine. my parents were the ones that were foolish to believe their daughter would never have a mind of her own, i do not want to be caught as blindsided if any of mine decide to turn.
they must be scrambling by now. i'm sure father has already lied in bed with a younger, fertile woman in hopes of replacing me, with what little time they have left.

nivis has gone. it is still heat season, i worry he is out siring bastards — always thinking with his cock and never his mind, small as both may be. i'm left here alone, with children and a people who yearn for security.
i cannot be moving as much. i'll rely on paloma to send word, and my guards to shield the borders, and for god to bless us.

attn: @Nivis @Valeria @Vincent @Nymphora @Candela , no post order!
this thread idea is stolen from the bearclaws with permission from jess; same concept where pup developments kept to one post updates so we don't have to make so many threads for each milestone.

for reyna's posts, i'll be doing it in a proper diary entry format. feel free to do whatever it is you think is most fitting for your character!
[Image: Illustration460.png]
nivis is welcome in all threads
reyna is rated mature
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La Muerte
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june 16

Mom and dad, and you: the one, too. I am a big good girl now; I am two weeks old today. With one eye half-open and with the other blue lurking, I am already taking over the best girl post all over the world.

Mom, why do you always leave? You come back when I am tired and hungry, though I always need you! My siblings abuse me all the time, and when I still couldn’t see, I was so annoyed with them that I tried to roll away! I was stopped though. Very bothersome, mom. Mhm, they get on my nerves and steal my favorite teat all the time. It’s unfair. I can’t wait to walk, so I can show them! I am getting sleepy, mom. Goodnight.



Mom…

… Mom, do you know when dad will come home?
La Muerte
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The fledglings grew like weeds. At nearly four weeks, they no longer resembled round, fuzzy potatoes and instead were beginning to look more and more like miniature wolves. Their uncooperative limbs strengthened and suddenly they were able to do more than simply wiggle and scoot around. As much as they were able to wander now, they were still always corralled back into the den by the ever-present Reyna or her handmaiden.

Their teeth were also beginning to grow; sharp, pearly white little things that Vincent used to nip and gum at his siblings whenever they annoyed him, which was often. Mother occasionally gifted them toys; feathers and tufts of fur to fight over, though the boy found himself favouring the small left over bones that he gnawed on to sharpen his growing fangs.

Unbeknownst to them, their father had not visited once. As far as the Nocturne children knew, he did not even exist (surely this would not cause issues in the future).
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june 29

Mom, I am now four weeks old and ready to rule the world. I am being the worst nuisance not only to you but to my siblings as well. Auntie @Paloma suffers when trying to put me in the lane and I bite every living being in my presence. Those teeth of mine seem very useful as a weapon against those standing in my way!

Dad still hasn’t showed up, but I believe he will soon. There must be something wrong with why he isn’t present, though I am just a little baby and I am not sure if I even have a dad. Can you have babies without a second parent? Definitely not a thought, I do have. I cannot even speak yet, though getting to that point very soon!

I love you, mom! I can’t wait to explore the world with you and finally take the first fight against my siblings!

By the way, I really like the rabbit meat. Can I get it more often?
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Despite her earliest hours being filled with ceaseless cries and desperate whinges for attention, Nymph had grown into a quiet child. Perhaps because her cries were so often left unanswered. Mother would leave some nights entirely, and father, well. Who even was he? 

Once her eyes were open, she'd resorted to becoming a watcher of sorts. She had no realization that her extended silence would give the impression of a stunted fledgeling. A late bloomer was the last thing she needed to be, but duty and competition was absent in the mind of the toddler. 

She saw things and she wondered why they were the way they were.

Why the handmaiden seemed to brighten when she looked at Candela and Valeria, but never herself. 

Why this alleged "father" was never here. What was a father, come to think of it? What was a father supposed to be? 

Why mother nor Paloma ever defended her when Valeria and Vincent stomped all over her tail or shirked her away from a meal. She wanted her siblings to eat! But they did not often leave much for her when she'd so courteously step back to let them have their fills. 

Was there something wrong with me? The pigeon had come to ask herself nightly. Perhaps it was the impurities that speckled her blonde complexion, but even Vincent was bathed in ink and he did not seem to feel the growing inferiority. He was a son, and that was what set him aside, while she was but a third daughter. She did not make such a correlation quite yet, however. 

She'd been passive. She'd been quick to give up, and she'd been more focused on exploring the caverns and sniffing the cold, night air than she had on mingling with her siblings, especially not after they'd discovered their teeth. Valeria in particular seemed simply thrilled to be testing them out, and Nymphora grew tired of being nipped. 

She'd begun to look at Paloma with distaste, especially after being coralled back into the den everytime she was caught straying just a little too far.

She could not help but be fascinated by the ants that congregated below.
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“Mama.”

But she wishes to say, go to hell, sister. At least she can speak now and be about an ounce more annoying. How exciting that is for her especially now when she can finally socialize with those she caught only a glimpse of. Most of the time she is with her siblings still, but the world outside is large; it has always been and she wants to explore it further.
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Nymphora had grown restless. Now a little over a month old, her legs had begun to take shape, and though her paws remained like snowshoes on twigs, she wasn't keen on letting that stop her. Moreover, she'd begun to listen, the words of the big wolves grew less garbled and incomprehensible each day that passed, and her little char-tipped ears had started to form into points.

She'd begun to display a bit of a rebellious side, often stealing away from her siblings in favour of venturing through the dark caverns of the palace quarters, though one thing or another would typically send her reeling back, the first time, a swarm of bats had startled the whelp so badly she had tripped over her own paws in her retreat, and managed to puncture her lip with her brand new teeth. The second time? A spiderweb blocking a tunnel, which she absentmindedly walked right through. It was a long while before she dared to venture in again. She could still feel eight legs crawling up her neck. 

No, now she turned her sights to bigger fish, that bright light outside the den. The wind whistled around the peaks and played a song with every gust, scents wafted in too; that of iron, of animal, of flowers, it was enough to keep little minds stimulated, even if for a short while. Soon however, it would not be enough, and no manner of scolding would keep her from exploiting those limits.
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At this point, she needed her mother no more. Nearly two months: that’s how old she already was. Big and strong and annoying. Lambs provided by her father tasted the best and, for once, milk was the opposite.

She didn’t even try. It made her stomach turn.

Most of the time she was running around and biting trees. Her teeth were fresh to provide some quality meals and as her first attempts to hunt joined her daily schedule, so did the failure following at the end of them.

Maybe one day she will be able to catch an elk on her own, though it wasn’t a skill important for her survival. That was the servants’ job.