Neverwinter Forest petroica traversi

Backdated to July 9th, twelve days of age.

It was Cypress’ turn to experience the strange phenomenon of sight. Normally a comatose Snorlax deep sleeper, the soot sprite had been fitful and restless through the night, demanding the attention of mother, father, and brother for reasons he could not explain or understand. The sensations of itchiness and tightness were new and unpleasant, and like a colicky baby, he’d fussed until one of the trio had lulled him back into the slumber he desperately needed. Toward dawn he finally fell asleep with his face nuzzled tight against his mother’s thickly-furred breast, allowing @Eshe, @Rannoch, and @Scimitar to get some rest.

This time when he awoke, something was different.

Mirroring his brother’s actions, Cypress rubbed at his eyes, learning for the first time that doing so would relieve the terrible curse that was itchiness. And the slivers of blue seemed to stretch and widen the more he blinked, tiny tears leaking and spilling over to drop like liquid crystal from his blunt puppy muzzle. For the first time, he voluntarily opened his milky blue eyes, immature and filmed over with a gossamer sheen of cloudiness, but he could see nothing at first — it was just the sensation that was different and new. His body learned what his mind had yet to process, causing his eyes to blink reflexively — if a bit slowly, for the palpebral reflex was sluggish and reluctant in one so young. Cooing, he wormed his way over to his brother and woke the dust bunny for the umpteenth time, piping shrill cries of confusion that were somehow different from his petulant whimpers through the night.

Eyes had drastically changed the way in which Rannoch went about living his short-lived life. Despite him only having the gift of sight for less than 24 hours, the young boy felt as if he had discovered an entirely new world. He was lay at the side of his mother and brother for hours on end, taking the time to simply look and take in his newly revealed surroundings. One of his favorite things to look at was his brother. He would look upon his soot-covered brother, interested in everything that he did. Though this fascination would fade with time, the dust-covered Frostfur found that doing this calmed him more than anything. Before having sight, he would have to rely on his brother’s touch to assure him that Cypress hadn’t vanished. With sight, a simple glance could send his sudden fears fleeting.

The afternoon in the whelping den came with a sudden awakening. His eyes flew open as the soot sprite rolled in his direction, mysterious cries falling from his brother’s mouth. It wasn’t the normal mid-night whine that occasionally woke him-- no, it was much different. Milky blue eyes sought his brother’s face as a look of concern overcame his features. Something was wrong, that much he knew, but it took him more than a brief moment to realize what had happened. His eyes fell upon the blurred view of his brother’s eyes. Though he did not correlate his brother’s eyes with seeing just yet, he knew the the two milky gems were a new addition to his brother’s face.

In an attempt to both calm his brother and explore, the youngest of the duo thrusted his pudgy snout in the direction of his brother’s eyes and sniffed heavily. While he hoped to calm his brother, he also hoped to figure out just what had happened to his brother’s face.

Interestingly enough, where Rannoch had seen his brother with eyes still sealed shut, Cypress would carry no recollection of the dust bunny without his pearl-filmed baby blue gaze. As he blinked muzzily, looking at his brother in unabashed wonder as his infantile mind whirred wildly to catch up with processing this brand new sense, the soot sprite furrowed his brow in fierce concentration. He burbled, his head wobbling upon his potato-like lack of a discernible neck, as Rannoch thrust his snout forward. They sat there, nose to nose, staring at one another — and exchanging the breath of their excited snorts and little whimpers.

And then, in the way of the very young, Cypress grew irrevocably distracted — the towering forms of his parents loomed just behind Rannoch, and his tiny mouth opened in an involuntary gape of shock at the difference in size and breadth. He wormed his way toward his mother, a confusing thing — she had been merely a presence before; a warm, comforting embrace — the source of his sustenance and the warm reassurance of her tongue tenderly sweeping his tiny body from tip to tail. Now that his world had opened up to involve the use of his eyes, he frankly stared — tilting his head back with limited success as he propelled himself like a tiny turtle into her furry abdomen and stared cross-eyed at the body he had explored with his paws and mouth and largely ineffectual nose.

It was so much to take in, but the act of squeezing his eyes shut wasn’t available to him at such a young age; he didn’t know that was what he wanted, and merely reached both paws up to sweep his face with them like a bathing hamster.

As Cypress pulled back to take in the sights that laid just behind him. Instrincitly, the younger prince turned to glance over his shoulder, his eyes meeting with their parents. Wagging his tail, the boy’s eyes lingered on their forms as a newfound excitement. Though they were always there a loving spark would ignite when he laid eyes on them. He loved everything about them and they stirred joy within. In the young pup’s eyes, they could do no wrong.

As Cypress began to scoot towards their mother, Rannoch followed in hot pursuit. He scooted dutifully after, grunting with determination as he attempted to keep up with his brother. As Cypress stopped to stare, the cub took this moment as an oppratunity. Feeling rather playful in the moment that he parked parallel to his brother, the dusty boy turned to his brother, reached up to the nearest ear, and latched on happily. The corners of his mouth lifting to the roof of their home and his tail wagging.

Cypress’ manner of taking in the world was wholly different from his brother’s. Where Rannoch was quick to smile and extremely active, Cypress tended to sleep much of the time and spend his waking moments quietly observing the world around him. He possessed, at this tiny, overwhelmed age, a bad case of Resting Bitch Face — but now, looking at his brother with characteristically furrowed brow and then turning his milky blue gaze toward his parents, he felt the warm love and affection that always swam within him billow up through his body until he wriggled fervently and a smile — his very first — curved his pudgy mouth with such force that his mouth gaped open. He could not contain the ticklish, bubbly feeling that stirred within his body and seemed to spread out to the tip of each infinitesimal toe — and he burbled a squeak of a laugh.

As Rannoch latched onto his ear with new gusto, Cypress turned his head in a clumsy attempt to mouth at the dust bunny in turn, but his reactions were slow and delayed as befitted his youth. The sense of hearing, too, was making itself known to the young boys, but that was more of a gradual process. He didn’t think anything of the odd squelch that was more sensation than sound and merely tried to capture his brother’s tail — which was now a muted blob of grey against the brown of the den floor — between his gums that were just beginning to show the splinters of teeth.

Success favorited the soot sprite as he captured Rannoch’s tail in his mouth. Letting go as soon as that happened, the silver prince turned his eyes to his tail and to the brother that his tail had attracted. The first signs of teeth were poking out of both of their gums. Though Rannoch did feel that something was different when his brother bit down, it was not as noticeable as it would be in the coming weeks. With his attention of his brother, the babe’s tail tipped from side to side, as if to attempt to shake off Cypress. He could feel the light hairs on his tail grow damp and that quickly made him uncomfortable. His sunny expression faded with time as he attempted to wiggle off his brother’s grasp, hoping to be freed. Unfortunately for Rannoch, it most likely wouldn’t be that easy to get his brother to release his grasp.

LMAO, oh! Poor Rannoch. He’s like, “HEY THIS IS GREA — wait a minute, I don’t think I like this. THIS FEELS WEIRD.”

Cypress latched on to his brother’s tail with the same force that he exhibited during feeding time, but for a different reason entirely — his mouth felt weird in the same sense that his eyes did: uncomfortable and itchy, with a new sensation that was unfamiliar and unwelcome. Later in life, when he or his brother got into their various adventures and began sparring, he would come to know this feeling definitively as pain but in his gently reared life thus far, he had not felt it. Now, though, the feeling was on his gums and in his jaws and the only thing that made it feel better was working his little jaws around something and massaging them: e.g. chewing on his brother’s feet and paws.

Unaware of his brother’s discomfort, the soot sprite held the dust bunny prisoner as he chewed, relieving the pain in his gums — it was only when Rannoch’s tail began to tick like a frenetic metronome that Cypress lost his grip, and when he did the inky prince uttered a series of soft, piping cries that dipped a bit lower in his bright tenor register. He lacked the wherewithal to growl, but perhaps this lower pitched whine was prelude to that.

Despite the discomfort that he had felt moments before the inky prince’s release, Rannoch was not fully prepared for the response that he received. His eyes grew wide as Cypress’ disposition went from sunny to dreary and his frown darkened. Was brother okay? She scooted quickly until he was parked parallel next to his dark brother, his heart thrumming as he rushed to his brother’s side. As he seated himself, the younger prince pressed his nose to the downy fur of Cypress’ cheek and whined lightly. "You okay?" He seemed to implore in that moment, his eyes looking on with concern as he attempted to assess what going on.

Cypress was occasionally a rather cantankerous prince, but even at this early age he found himself deeply attuned to the moods and movements of his dust bunny brother. The frustration he felt at losing his grip on Rannoch’s tail quickly dissipated, for although he was of a more solemn disposition than his younger brother, he had a clear inclination toward joy and laughter given his doting upbringing. “I’m okay! I’m okay!” he hastened to reassure the youngest Frostfur, his nose tenderly snuffling the downy fur of Rannoch’s cheek. Rannoch was a sensitive sort, and perhaps if he kept this quality as he grew, Cypress would continue learning how to put his own feelings of disappointment aside in favor of offering succor to the dust bunny.

He did not mouth at the other boy but lay quietly beside him, pressing his cheek to Rannoch’s as he stared out in front of him with new and untutored eyes.

Fading!

Reassurance was soon met Rannoch’s concern and to this he offered a smile, relieved in that moment that his brother was okay. He leaned in happily to the his brother’s exhaling, giggling at the sensation of his all. As the gust died down and the other price settled himself onto the floor, Rannoch followed suite. The two would watch the world outside for quite some time in silence, admiring all that had to be seen.