Stavanger Bay Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy

For @Szymon <3 with Mary's permission, set directly after this thread. Let the banging commence. Please allow Szymon to post first.

It was strange to her how simply being in the presence of a male could alight her so; she'd been alone during her first heat, and had felt only an innocuous discomfort and distant longing for nearness. This, however, was different. It was as though her own body was being spurrned on by the presence of these males, and now she doubted she'd settle for simple nearness - not when she knew that physicality was so close at hand.

And she ached for him, despite such things being aroused, at first, by the presence of his brother. Atoll could not help her body's reaction to their strong and able leader any more than she could help her heart's dear affection for the pallid male himself.

"Szymon," she sang when she had reached her chosen rendezvous. The Blackrock was hidden in the water behind her, which glistened in the evening sun. It did not hold the same power for her as it did for Skellige, but she recognized it as a sigil of their pack, and therefore saw significance in conceiving in its sights.

When her chosen mate did not appear immediately before her eyes, the beta grew impatient and belted out a series of calls - two being Szymon's name-sound, one being a pleading yap, and the last being a war-like yowl, demanding blood if no other demands were met.

♥♥♥!

There was a certain energy in the air that put Szymon more on edge than usual — Doe was like quicksilver, flitting through the bay territory on hollow birdlike bones that kept her just out of his reach. He felt restless in a way he could not define and had redoubled his efforts at strengthening the borders and stocking the caches because of it. Jagoda’s return troubled him, and he’d been on his way to answer Murgash’s triumphant call when he discovered the larger Cairn male had intercepted him. At that realization Szymon had simply skulked away like a coward, unwilling to risk being thrashed to the ground where the newest Blackrock warhound could witness it. He marveled at the grotesque nature of the thickly-muscled and perhaps thickly-skulled wolf, and could not deny the new recruit’s prowess. Murgash was blessed by the Sea now, and Szymon regarded him with respect despite the prickliness of their first meeting.

On this day Szymon was swimming, testing the mettle of his muscles against the unforgiving sweep of the current. He was not so brittle and gaunt as he had been when he’d first reached these wilds, and his lean musculature was flinty and sharp; the wounds he had won fighting Mordecai were wholly healed now, and as he flexed his hindquarters, kicking strongly with the ebb and flow of the Sea, he knew his range of motion to be full and fluid.

Popping his head above water, he caught sight of a familiar shape, the salt and brine giving him little to no trouble — he swam with his eyes open, as did every Cairn, bred and raised beside the sea. The shape’s finely-drawn lines and odd ears brought an immediate quickening of his pace; he swam with brilliant swiftness, cresting the surface or dipping below to best suit the choppy waves. In the end, though, he was loathe to keep his eyes off Doe, and the last several meters had him so incensed by his longing to be near her that he swam with his forequarters nearly rearing out of the water. He howled her name — “Doooooooooooooooooooooooooe!” — a wild and raucous sound to answer her odd assortment of cries. He washed ashore, barreling toward her before he had even touched all four paws on solid ground, the pleading yap and yowling warcry causing his gut to tighten oddly. It was a sound he had never heard her make before.

The scent of her was heady and enticing, and he found himself at a momentary loss for words — Szymon was awkward and occasionally insensitive, but he was far from obtuse. Though he hadn’t experienced a female’s heat firsthand, natural instinct told him what he needed to know — Doe was fertile, and she had chosen Szymon — but he would have to fight for the glory of losing himself within her and fathering her children. His ink-lined lips curled in a threatening snarl as his hackles rose to the fore; every muscle was honed to its finest pitch as he strutted for her with a roll of his lean, angular shoulders and puffed out his chest. His golden eyes were alight with a fire that had never before sparked within his eyes, as he remembered anew her words: “I love you, Sy.”

If she loved him — if love was what she felt, the singing of the blood and the pounding of the heart that tingled into every nerve and every pore — perhaps he loved her, too. All he knew clearly now was that nothing he had ever felt before compared to his feelings — complicated and sometimes frustrating, but always alive and awake — for her. “I think,” he ventured, his bass timbre rough with desire and his tongue nervously flickering across his lips, “I think I might — I think I might love you, Doe.”

Every one of her joints seemed to turn to jelly as she watched the handsome male approach - no longer as nervous or rangy as he'd been when they met. Szymon had come into his own as of late, putting on fat and muscle and growing in confidence until it seemed to flow from him and into her very heart.

Truly, she was a lucky woman.

Doe wiggled with rapturous delight as he drew near, heart torn somewhere between beguiled surrender and haughty dominance. She prepared to launch herself toward him, a motion much like a seabird mantling its wings, but stopped short when he spoke to her, the words freezing her body even as it heated her blood. And, true, it didn't matter what he thought. Doe was content with him, with what he gave her, and content with the life they lived. But hearing the words made her heart beat faster, even with think added into the mix.

"I never doubted you," she confided, pushing her head against his chest. A moment of tenderness doused the fire that'd burned so fiercly just a moment ago, and Doe found herself remembering the Vows once more. For the barest of a second, she began to push them away again - but then she remembered, and in remembering, she rejoiced. They didn't have to wait any longer. "I will be a shadow at your side," she hummed, eyes closing as the electricity of the moment overtook her. "Your journey will be my journey, your ambitions, my ambitions, your sorrows, my sorrows. What has passed will fade away, and the forward is uncertain; but I will dwell with you, making your den mine and my family yours," The words rang out, now, though her voice was no louder than before. The power of the Vow was swirling on the seaward breeze, briney and magical in its own right. "You are bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, now and forever."

Just like that, the fire was returned, and Doe had the feeling that somewhere, somehow, Riverbone lived and knew that his daughter had come into her own. Though that world, that life, that Doe seemed like a long way off from where and what and who she was now, a broad grin began to stretch her face. The moment was broken, but her solemn Vow would last forever.

For now, there were other things to worry about.

Shrinking her grin into a coy smile, Doe nipped at the thickly-furred neck of her mate and danced a few feet away, panting in silent laughter at the joy of the occasion. Come and get me, said her body, and her eyes echoed a similiar, softer, sweeter message.

I apologize for the neverending stream of lackluster posts. ♥

A low and rumbling groan trembled from Szymon’s lips as Doe’s sharply tapered muzzle and velveteen crown pushed insistently against his chest; he craned his neck to preen at hers with more fierceness than was his usual wont, excited and ignited by her intoxicating scent. The words that fell in a trancelike hum from her lips were hypnotizing and beautiful — Szymon could not hope to give them back to her, for by the time she reached the end of them he’d forgotten the beginning. All he knew was the glory of her and the wonder that she loved him. Stunned, knowing that his next words were important, weighted with the gravity of the moment, the black-banded Cairn worked his tongue with futile fervor — but Doe nipped at his neck and danced away with coy invitation dancing in her bright eyes, and his own eyes lit with eagerness to comply.

“Now and forever,” her sprightly footfalls seemed to echo. “Now and forever.” Growling his pleasure, Szymon splayed his forelegs in an uncharacteristic expression of playfulness, snapping at air and flicking the sand up as his powerful hindquarters propelled him toward his Chosen One in a jittery leap. As always, playing made him feel just a little unsettled and awkward — but beneath his frenetic tendencies lay a new framework of steadfast confidence that was beginning to dwell within the marrow of his bones. Adamant that she not be won by any other — lesser, his hormone driven mind insisted — male, he echoed the words he’d sung to her in a panting undertone: “I’m gonna wear you down — I’m gonna make you see — I’m gonna get to you.”

You’re gonna give in to me.

In all honesty, Doe did not expect her words to be answered. True to her expectations, Szymon did not repeat the vows back to her. That was fine; it was not a part of his culture, and Doe would rather not wait for him while he attempted to force it all out. He rarely stuttered around her anymore, but there were so very many words to the Vows, and they did not belong to Szymon; he did not know them.

So she was pleased enough with his silence, and giddier still at his heady promise to wear her down, make her see. He would get her, he said, and Doe didn't doubt him. That was the desired conclusion of this little game, but she would play it a while longer before allowing things to procede.

Darting and feinting, she deftly evaded his playful lunges and snapping teeth. Sometimes, she would allow him near enough to touch, but always slipped away with demure chuffs and chides. The game excited her, as did the strange mood that Szymon seemed to be in. Doe wasn't entirely oblivous, and understood that a fair part of it was due to the influence of her own hormones, but she saw enough of Szymon in it to see how much he'd grown from the anxious wolf she'd met on the shore.

It was a heady mixture; Doe's evasions did not last her long. Very soon, she was a shivering, cooing mess; availible for Szymon to do whatever he liked with.

And then they banged.

At length, Szymon stirred — he could not remember whether he’d slipped gracefully into slumber or dropped to the earth like an anvil, unconscious in the wake of Doe’s warm mastery over him. He did remember, though, how sensation after sensation had battered his body like a warhammer until waves of pleasure had broken over him in a whirling maelstrom, turning the Sea to fire before his eyes. He moved gingerly, one foreleg knotted beneath him with an uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles, and arranged his limbs into some semblance of order — and he looked at the woman tucked against his side, knowing her to be his now in a way that no other wolf could claim. Smoothing a soft lick against her crown, washing her face in a slow sweep of kisses, he sang to her:

“I’ve been
out on the ocean,
sailing alone,
traveling nowhere.

You’ve been
running on hard ground;
with just you around,
your heartbeat’s the only sound.

Now I know
that I was destined to find
the sound of your heart beats with mine —

and someday,
the crash of the waves may be far away,
but I will sail in your eyes —

to be by your side,
I’d leave the ocean behind.”

“The ocean” in this case was purely metaphorical — but even the Sea-sworn Cairn was helpless to deny the fool his feelings made of him. In this moment, in this place, he thought he’d willingly follow the coy little female anywhere — but their fanatic loyalty to Skellige and Szymon’s love for the ocean tied them firmly to the bay territory. As his low bass timbre faded into silence, he nosed at the bulb of one oversized ear. “Doe,” he whispered, carefully conjuring what words of devotion he could remember and breathing life into them so delicately that even his impediment could not interfere, “bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, now and forever.”

The fire in her was not nearly cooled, but for a time after their coupling, it rested and allowed her to fall into a sleep just as deep as her mate's. The stars were up when Doe opened her eyes, and the wind was damp and chill but Szymon's body was unerringly warm against her side. She laid still for a long moment while he sang, simply allowing the sweet words and his thrumming voice to wash over her. Only when he was quiet did she tip her head back toward him, throat bared in the easy trust she had always afforded this man.

"Now and forever," she agreed when he spoke the tail-end of the Vows, and Doe wondered if he knew what that line in particular meant. Offering a rakish grin, she stretched her neck to nibble delicately at his chin. "And finally, we are bone of bone and flesh of flesh."

Hopefully, they could do that again very soon. At this thought, Doe had to restrain herself from hopping to her paws - though she was eager to have Szymon mount her once more, she did not want to break the tenderness of the moment.

The deeper meaning of the Vows had eluded the black-banded Cairn somewhat — he had repeated them with fervor because she had said them, and there was something pleasing to him about the symmetry of his mirrored speech. Truth be told, Doe could have solemnly recited a recipe for apple pie or read from a textbook about horticulture and he would have accepted those words just as readily. What mattered to Szymon was their shared ownership of one another, officially sanctioned by the Leviathan — and the consequences of their coupling didn’t occur to him until Doe — his mate! his! — began to nibble at his chin. “Doe,” he said in a low, sated, utterly content timbre. “What if you — what if we — ” The stutter was completely gone from his tone, his words having an almost drunken quality that presented as a leisurely drawl, but he found it hard to find the words regardless. “What if we get pregnant?” is what he wanted to ask, but what tumbled rather stupidly out of his mouth pushed all of his worries aside. Casting her a sly sidelong glance, “I think,” he said, his spine shuddering at the memory of his first clumsy attempts and the glory that had overtaken him, “maybe we need to try it again — just to make sure. I could use the practice.” A toothy, greedy grin spread goofily over his ink-lined lips.

"Pracetice, hm?" Doe shot back, voice lofty and eyes twinkling she she regarded her twitterpated mate. True, he had been the one to do all the hard work (though he'd gotten very heavy and harder to hold up, near the end), but his blissful expression and honeyed tone made Doe think that she'd done a good job all on her own.

Tail wagging furiously, she gave into the urges she'd earlier denied and sprang up from their tangle of limbs. "Let's go, then!" she said excited, turning in a quick circle to work a bit of the excess energy from her too-long legs - if only she could transfer the extras to Szymon. Perhaps they could do this all day - all week! All the time, forever!

I am very lucky, she decided, when she realized she was completely, perfectly, unreservedly happy. She had Szymon, Skellige, the bay - maybe it wasn't the life she'd always thought she'd live, but she hadn't know what life could be like back when she'd had to merely dream of being this glad. She hadn't know Szymon.

Stretching languidly, Szymon rose to his paws, his golden eyes afire with love and longing for his mate. Trailing teasing kisses along her jawline and nape, he sauntered with as much suavity as he could toward her hindquarters for the Second Coming — the Big Bang. Drawing breath, he rose above her to summon again their mutual spirit animal — the eight-legged, two-tailed, two-headed beast of lust. Above the crash of the waves, an ethereal voice, booming and resonant, could almost be heard.