Hideaway Strath I’ll shoulder the load, and I’ll swallow the shame

Enough time had passed that Hemlock no longer felt the raw sense of loss of Ran, brief as her time in Hemlock's care had been. It was still a loss and she had suffered only for the grief to sputter into another swing of emotions as her heat hit her. That had ended, finally, thankfully as though she had not been upset at spending her time wound up in Lotte and Arturo's embrace she had felt so consumed by it all she could think of nothing else. The new, real fear was that Sirius had abandoned her in this time because of something - jealousy, perhaps, or maybe just a fear that things were changing and Hemlock did not know how to address it. 

Early in the morning when the word was still trapped in the murky distant light Hemlock had tracked one of @Arturo's trails, hoping to talk to him. She had debated the past few mornings as her stomach had soured from random moments and smells seemed more intense. Did she even want to bring this to him now, when she'd failed three children - Roarke, Ran, and Sirius? Maybe he would regret everything - regret her. A swell of emotion shook her and she let out a pained, gasping sound. Maybe she would circle back, abandon her plan. She didn't want to burden Arturo with this newest fiasco - not when so much more was happening in their Strath. 

Arturo Fearghal doesn’t believe in curses. Or rather, he never used to. He had never listened to his mother’s claims, never believed in her soothsayers and curses and fae. His mind, geared more towards the rational, spurned such notions with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. He wants to greet the idea with the old reactions to it: a scoff and a roll of his eyes. Oh, how does he want to. But he cannot. Too much has happened. Teaghlaigh is …surviving; but he wonders just how barely they are putting along. He cannot help but feel, at times, that they are just treading water: on the cusp of giving up and sinking into the depths of the ocean below. They had thrived once; until Olive had brought Dakarai into their midst. From that moment everything changed and looking back on it Arturo should have chased him, bloodied and injured from escaping Blackfeather Woods far away from Teaghlaigh. Olive, too, because he thinks that the pack’s suffered inflictions have originated and revolved around the pair. Did they bring with them a curse that is not plaguing the pack? Or is it just him? Roarke is gone, very possibly dead and it has been some time since he’s seen hide or hair of Molly; and he now, despite that, it was very possible that Hemlock and him had conceived; that she is expecting. If she is, has he, too doomed her and the children to the same curse that inflicts him? God, he hopes not.

He is in a downward spiral, a pit of seeing his fortunes be a mere echo of what they were at the beginning. The gangster has always believed that he makes his own fortunes, and perhaps the moment he realizes that he is under no curse and that it is his own paranoia that is causing this downward spiral; but being stabbed in the back by one whose opinions you had once treasured left scars. That is a betrayal that time only festers. It is hard to forget and impossible to forgive. The coy wolf knows he needs to snap himself out of this. He knows it. He wants to. If he is weak then Riptide is strong …and the last thing he needs is the parasite coming back to wreck his life even more.

He is broken from his (depressing) thoughts as he catches the scent of Hemlock, his attention focusing upon finding her, and then her when he does come across her, his steps slowing to a halt, a wave of his tail given to accommodate the low rumbled “Hemlock,” he offers her in greeting. He is eager to change the dark path of his thoughts and welcomes the distraction she provides for him.

 

It is hard to be near him for a moment and Hemlock realizes with a start that she is worried for upsetting him. Surely Arturo has come to the same conclusion that she has, that she has brought some sort of curse down on their home - that she isn't worthy of the gifts given to her in the form of his and Lotte's affections nor their children. Still, he speaks her name and she slips closer, pressing her small frame against his and nuzzling beneath his chin. "Arturo," She does not blurt out her concerns, managing to still her tongue for a moment even if every second seems stolen somehow. 

She wished again for Lotte's way with words, to weave the stories the way she wanted, to offer up the words so smoothly as her darker beloved did. But she could only look up at him, reading his face and those brilliant eyes and wishing she was more - so much more for all of them. "It is too early for this." For the look of him, as if a million things struggle to push forth and take hold of him, for the way she feels and how it swallows her thoughts - two sides to a similar coin, she cannot imagine how he in turn thinks the same thoughts she does right then. "The herds will be moving again soon - starting to bulk up for winter."  With any luck it would be far better than the past winter for all of them, and a scar on her side twitched as if to agree just at the thought. They should be able to store a great deal before winter, even if the children would be born before the temperatures truly dipped. 

Arturo welcomes to the press of her body against his, relishing in her soft curves and touch. She is a welcome distracted, he thinks again. With her heat cycle ended the feral drive is gone no longer plaguing his gestures, his affection. Arturo still desires her. He still seeks the familiar comfort of her arms just as he does Lotte’s. Hemlock brings him joy: just as Lotte does and just as it’d been with Lotte his feelings for the flame kissed woman that nuzzles him beneath the chin is wholly unexpected but it has him locked in it’s gravity. And he hardly minds. Her words cause his ears to perk as he contemplates them, analyzes them, speaking of it being too early and herds. “You’re pregnant.” Not spoken as a question but as an assumption based on her words. Without waiting for her confirmation for a question he didn’t really ask he assumes it is so and despite his worries he is filled with a swelling joy that constricts in his throat. He doesn’t regret them. He certainly doesn’t regret her. He just regrets the run of bad luck they’ve had lately, but he latches onto the knowledge that life grows within her womb and thinks that it has to be good luck. A sign that good times are not far off. Of course, he expected that his seed would take: he is far from infertile, after all but he relishes her pregnancy as a miracle because he needs it.

“So we stock our caches to the brim before winter hits.” If he has to go out and hunt all by his self he will see it done. “We’ll survive it. We always do.” Life was nothing without the bad times to propel them forward, to make them stronger. It was exhausting, yes, but new determination blazes within the twin sun gaze of the coy-wolf gangster. He circles her slowly and seeks to lightly press his nose to her flank where life now grows. “Hemlock,” He broaches, seeking to shift from their morbid conversation and their worries. They should be celebrating, after all. “I would like them to be Fearghal’s. Or Kali-Fearghal's, Fearghal-Kali's …if you prefer. I just …I want to be their father. I want them to know their siblings.” He remembers having told her that he would not interfere if she didn’t want him in their life in that way …but he can’t imagine not being a father. “Be Lotte and I’s mate. Join us, in our love, in our life.” It is a question as he asks it: she is able to refuse if she wishes; but Arturo not-so-secretly hopes she does not decline.

Oh - she hadn't meant that and this wasn't how she'd wanted to tell him. The nagging feeling that was growing stronger and stronger promised that yes, she was most likely carrying his young but she had meant the more sour look to his face, the way that they were both looking. Hemlock's ears folded back for a moment in nervousness but she decided to lift herself up, to try and make this a better moment now that the cat was out of the bag. "I have suspicions, yes," She promised, and she knew that once she had more solid confirmations she would come straight to him. "I had actually meant that look on your face." She teased with a small smile. "This will be our first winter here - and I was thinking it is a perfect time to start planning our moves." Not only with his older brood coming into a proper age to join larger hunts but before her own was there, taking up her time and energy and any precious resources they had. If they had planned better or had more control, or if the heavens themselves had moved somehow to make the time different, she and Lotte could have whelped closer together but it was beyond their control. 

The healer allowed him to survey her; wondering if he had done the same with Lotte when her tundarian had boasted her own pregnancy. Who knew better than Arturo, after all, who knew her longest in the lands now? Without Palisander the gangster would be the first to recognize a change in her - though perhaps Lotte's eyes had been more keenly on her. Still, she closes her eyes to his gentle touch, fur prickling a bit over her muscles. It is all her own motion, of course, but still, she can imagine the feeling of kicks soon to follow. Her ears shift towards him as he makes his heartfelt statement; of wanting these children to not be outsiders to his family, to his name, and Hemlock turns to face him with a gentle smile on her face. Despite his harsh exterior Arturo Fearghal is a gentle man under the right circumstances, and when it came to children, he was sweet. "Of course they will know their siblings, we are not -" But any true response is clipped before she can make it by the power of the sentiment in his next words. 

When it had come to her marriage before, she and Palisander had not broached such a serious subject. They had held the title of mates before any other had in the Ravensblood but it had come with a courtship and it's own unique tests. This was unexpected. Surely Arturo had noticed the way that Hemlock felt, not only to Lotte (the world probably could read that, despite Hemlock's best efforts otherwise), but to himself. Her loyalty had always been his but it had become so much more than loyalty after all. "I...are you sure? You and Lotte?" A near stammered response, but the pounding of her heart drowned out all other concepts or emotions - she wanted it, wanted them and the promise of their family, but it was such a powerful concept that she still questioned if she was even worthy of them. 

“Ah,” There is, for the first time in quite a long time ( that Arturo could recall at any rate ) a smart of humiliation that stirs beneath his breast as she corrects his assumption [that’s what you get for assuming turobutt~, torvi types smugly], reminding him that this is their first winter here. So many things have happened, so many bad things and a few good ones that he feels like he’s lived ten lifetimes here. Age has ceased to be relevant to the coywolf because he feels ancient — not in body ( which is still in it’s prime, thankyouverymuch ) but in his soul, in his mind. Time has become an indistinguishable blur of shit with those few good things offering a relief of a pause. He’s tired, he realizes; and eventually tired is going to morph itself into exhaustion; but he isn’t ready to let Teaghlaigh go. Not with children on the way, not when it’s numbers are low and it needs an experienced hand to guide it through the winter …which is going to be tough, he knows, and not when he has no one to take his place. The Lotturos are too young to assume the mantle and Chusi is far too unreliable. He hates to think that to himself but he is a pragmatic man and will not let himself be blinded by affection for his wayward daughter. She is disobedient and far too worried about adventures than she is leading. He’s known it for a long while, before he gave her the heir rank, truth be told; but a part of him held out hope nevertheless.

Ceannasach focuses in on Hemlock though, reminding himself that he has made her quite an offer, a …proposal really. Yes, he supposed he’s proposed. “Would I be asking if I wasn’t?” The gangster inquires teasingly, but the serious arrangement of his facial features assures her that he is very sure. “Lotte and I.” He reaffirms with a sage nod of his head. A power couple could easily become a power trio; in fact for many reasons more than just the children that they’ve created he hopes that she accepts but he won’t push her either way …and if she needs more time then Arturo’ll give that to her, as well.

Hemlock might have reached for him to soothe that slight sting; she had wanted to tell him, after all, but maybe he recognized her even in those early stages. He had many litters, after all, this was not the first time. Hopefully she could provide him more information soon - a flurry of kicks or the sweet swell of her body. Something real and tangible, more than her thoughts. "I do not think it will be long before we know for certain." Hemlock promised, a little smile curling along her face as she looked up to him. 

His teasing smile brings another from her, despite the stammering cadence of her heart. This is what she has yearned for and surely Lotte has been grooming her for - days spent together beneath the sun has only ignited her desires further for the brilliant bard and her gangster husband. "Do you know how long I have wanted this?" She asked as she slowly wound herself into his embrace again, snout pressed against his own and chest to chest so that he might feel the volley and power of her emotions. "You and Lotte, our family,"  She hadn't been so bold with him, but without reason to hide, all she wanted to do was assure him of her feelings and the depth of them. 

The gangster offers her a soft nod in silent agreement to her promise, knowing her words to hold truth. If they had been successful in conceiving this would be his third litter and by now he knew the ropes fairly well ( or so he liked to think ). In all honesty, Arturo had not been sure how Hemlock would take his proposal, and he’d debated about it for a long while now on how to present it. Admittedly, he’d intended to have more patience with his words, more finesse; but there had been an honesty in the unintended way he’d proposed. A rawness that well thought and poetically crafted words would not have conveyed. In truth, the gangster had been worried about, somehow, offending her, despite that she had taken well to the affections of both him and Lotte individually. Quickly, Hemlock had joined Lotte as a leading lady in his life; but he had wanted to tread delicately, not wanting to insult Palisander’s memory, unsure if he and Lotte could even live up to what Hemlock wanted or needed from life. It was apparent that Arturo worried for no reason, for her question and the wind of her body against his in an embrace is positive and for a moment, knocks the gangster off his guard.

For the first time in a long time, words fail Arturo. Words. His craft. His dictation slips away as they stand chest to chest, his breath slightly hitched in his throat, ears fluttering back to rest at half mast atop his skull with undiluted affection. He presses his muzzle into the fur of her neck that is within his reach, drawing his tongue and teeth through the silken tendrils. He is filled with relief that she accepts, that she returns the affection felt by both Lotte and himself and realizes that the giddy rise of warmth is a combination of love that has been cultivating for Hemlock for some time, unbeknownst to the gangster, and pure joy that she wants to be apart of them. That she wants them to be apart of her. “Our family.” The gangster echoes, deep, smoky voice thick with emotions that have lodged themselves in his throat.

 

Part of her worries over not having Lotte present. It seems that their trinity is built strongly not only in each other but in the powerful support that they give one another. She has seen some of the best moments and the worst moments in each of them, and they in turn her, and it is from this powerful respect that love has truly blossomed. Hemlock grew quiet as she basked in Arturo's affections, the way his tongue steals across her fur as he teases along her nape brings a crooning sound from her lips. She teased a lock of his fur from near his ear, giving a little hum as he speaks the words with equal fervor. "Ours - our children, our pack," She was not needing to claim Teaghlaigh, it was something she had built up from the moment she had pledged herself. She could never get the months she'd spent away back, and that hurt her, truthfully. But she could not fix that now, instead, she could only push forward. 

"They will carry both our names proudly," Because she would not reject her own heritage, and surely her children would be raised with the same integrity that both the Fearghal and Kali lines were known for. She teased her way to his skin, tongue dragging slowly as she worked along his snout and down his neck. He had such a unique way to him, and perhaps it was his mixed heritage, perhaps it was just him - but Hemlock couldn't get enough. "You have always meant so much to me, Arturo." Hemlock promised with a soft breath against his skin. She refused to pull away enough to even look him in the eyes to tell him so. Like with Lotte, she was almost bashful in the power of her emotions.

wrapping this thread up. :-)

Arturo revels in her affections, touched upon her declarations of how much he means to her. It is nice to hear and certainly a sentiment that the gangster returns. Hemlock has been by his side for a lot of things and he would never hold the time she spent away from Teaghlaigh against her despite how he’d wished she’d stayed. They all grieved in different ways and he couldn’t …didn’t want to imagine what losing Lotte or Hemlock herself would do to him. Nevertheless, the most important part was that she’d came back and irrevocably woven herself into the lives of the Fearghals without effort and as if she’d never left at all. “As you mean to me.” The gangster murmurs in his smoky timbre. For all the obstacles that he and Teaghlaigh has had to overcome Arturo thinks that it’s in moments like these that it’s worth it all.

The pair lingers like that for a few minutes longer before they part and Arturo heads towards the heart of the Strath with the intention of informing Lotte about the conversation and where Hemlock now stood, officially in their lives.