Ouroboros Spine verses
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and you can't tell what you're feeling
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#1
All Welcome 
tags are for reference, anyone welcome <3

— 8 Weeks
Around week 9, the pups will be moved from the whelping den to the rendezvous site. Pups no longer drink milk and will eat meat provided by the pack. Guard hairs grow in during this time. Their eyes will begin to change colour in week 8 and will finish transitioning by week 16. If they haven't changed from blue by this time, they will remain blue for life.

Callyope's eyes slowly simmered away from blue, not yet the depth of their true color but hinting she would be of the sun.

A piece of father Sunman, @Aiolos, transferred to her own spirit.

This morning, she had sung a song to the greeting light. Then undeniably attempted to rouse her slumbering sister (@Ariadne) and brother (@Stratos) with peppering kisses, if the song had not stirred her whole family already.

When the adults would set out to do their daily works, @Kukutux may find herself with the gangly shadow of Callyope.

Callyope who continued to sing throughout the day. Only stopping when spoken to or she caught the tune of a spring-near-summer songbird.

"inuktitut" || "common"
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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#2
hope you don't mind Lótë! :)

Lótë went in search of moonwoman, a bundle of herbs from her private garden clasped in her maw for the duck, when she found instead the fire-kissed girl known as Callyope. The cub was singing a soft song in the language of first wife, bringing a smile to the cloudberry's lips. Pausing, the doe rested her flora at her paws before singing softly in return -- lips quirking in a warm grin when the girl's shifting eyes of blue and gold inevitably found her. 

"I think you would like the songbirds in the mountains," Lótë murmured with a small smile and a wag of her tail. "They have beautiful songs too." Perhaps the herd-stalker might show her stepdaughter sometime, perhaps when she was a tad older. 
[Image: tumblr_inline_p7g2ubEPPb1ufb8ej_400.gifv]
Forneskja
Seiðkona*
and you can't tell what you're feeling
556 Posts
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#3
Callyope was stunned back into silence at the sudden voice. A singing song that was accompanied by words.

Except blue-shifting-amber eyes settled on a form that was familiar enough. And Callyope broke out into a wide smile, awkwardly loping into the form of Lótë with a bumble of child-pitched giggles, a smile on her face as she aimed to smush her face into the nearest limb of her near-mother.

Aja, She mumbled softly. Go?

She wished to see these birds that sung. She did not understand the distance from here to them.

"inuktitut" || "common"
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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#4
Lótë accepted the girl with a gentle summer rain of kisses, dipping her head to nuzzle the pale girl. It never failed to soften her heart, being close to the little ones. The cloudberry hummed softly, a regretful noise for she hadn't intended to needlessly get Callyope's hopes up -- only to dash them. 

"It is very far, too far for little legs," second wife murmured softly, poking an earthen nose gently at the cub's slim chest -- a playful gesture. Not to mention that she was uncertain whether Kukutux might want her youngest children wandering so far at their age. "Soon," Ajâtsuk promised with a smile. 

"Today we might do something else, aya?" the bird-watcher attempted to redirect the sungirl's attention. "Would you like to come paint the ulaq?" It bore the marks of Lótë and her firstborn children, and even @Samani though Kausiut had always been a reserved sort and had never added her own markings to the walls of second wife's dwelling. Even so, Lótë hoped to continue the tradition by adding the youthful scribbles of her sister's third litter to the mural. 
[Image: tumblr_inline_p7g2ubEPPb1ufb8ej_400.gifv]
Forneskja
Seiðkona*
and you can't tell what you're feeling
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#5
Callyope felt only a brief flicker to frown. Upset that her legs were too little for where the songbirds were. Upset that she was not a fine hunter like her Aja.

But this was not either one's fault.

Paint with Aja. She mumbled happily, giggling softly into the fine furs of the hunter. We go. She prompted, a soft ushering given to her near mother, before she would sing them along as they went to the ulaq.

"inuktitut" || "common"
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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#6
The cloudberry dropped the herbs off with her sister and offered a similarly murmured explanation before leading her anngak to the den she shared with her yearlings (those whom had not already departed from the Spine). Occasionally, pallid emeralds flickered down to the sunray-streaked child with a warm smile, humming a soft tune to accompany the words of her melody. 

Once they'd reached the mother's angiggak, Lótë retrieved a fractured raccoon skull she often stored paint in -- somewhat like a natural bowl. At the moment, it held a bright hue of red dye from a paste of ground currants (and undoubtedly a hint of saliva). Aiwëndil sat the bowl by Callyope's feet before naming the colorful ochre, "Minguagutik. Paint." 

Dipping a paw in the bowl, Lótë turned and pressed the pads of her digits and 'palm' to a free space of the stone walls -- amidst the slightly faded markings from the year before. She turned her gaze back to Callyope with an encouraging smile, waiting to see how the nestling would react. If the texture and sticky sensation did not bother her, perhaps her stepdaughter would be interested in expirmenting with other colors.
[Image: tumblr_inline_p7g2ubEPPb1ufb8ej_400.gifv]
Forneskja
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and you can't tell what you're feeling
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#7
She watched in wonder.

A bowl, full of a vibrant type of liquid-near-paste.

Her near mother marking a free space on the wall. Color left in her wake.

Callyope's eyes widened, mouth opened slightly. She was not sure she had ever witnessed such beauty. The sun had her love and the music held a special place. This was entirely different. Entirely new.

The babe would babble the new word she had been given, trying to fit her mouth around it. All the while she smushed toes into the paint. Lifted a paw and offered a smear next to Lótë's mark. Tail thumped heavily against the ground as she settled back down.

More! She chirped with utter delight.

"inuktitut" || "common"
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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#8
Lótë was similarly delighted, as evidenced by her toothy grin of pride. All of her children seemed to have enjoyed the art sessions as cubs but none had developed a keen interest in paint the way the doe had. The cloudberry was ecstatic to think she might have found someone to pass the process of mixing and using the media to. 

With an indulgent chuckle, Lótë retrieved a few more skulls -- which she had found were quite handy for storing paint over the years. Not all were sourced from raccoons but the smaller, rounder bones of small mammals, as well as turtle shells and the like, worked better than the narrow and thin craniums of grazing mammals. 

There was a variety of hues to present: a rich blue, almost indigo, from blueberries, yellow ochre and dandelion fuzz, the burnt orange of gummy clay, black earth. If Lótë had had the means to gather or grind chalk or lime from stone, she might've even had white paint to offer. As it was, the artist had yet to discover a way to create an ivory paste -- though she had been experimenting with pale flowers to no avail. 

Arranging the different hues before Callyope, Lótë settled in next to her and began to add small details along a primitive mural that depicted one of many stories from her homeland. Occasionally, she glanced subtly at the little rusted singer to see what she might create. 
[Image: tumblr_inline_p7g2ubEPPb1ufb8ej_400.gifv]
Forneskja
Seiðkona*
and you can't tell what you're feeling
556 Posts
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#9
Callyope may have had plenty of interest, but her talent lacked. Her smears represented nothing more than the colorfulness of her soul. Pleased by smudging the colorful streaks along the wall.

She dipped into the yellow tones the most.

At the end of it all, her masterpiece was not much more than a smattering of colors against each other.

And truthfully, the whole process exhausted her, but she felt immense joy. Especially as she flopped onto her side, paws painted with a multitude of colors.

"inuktitut" || "common"
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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#10
When the duo had finished their respective artworks, Lótë sat back on her haunches -- which was becoming more difficult these days -- and drank in Callyope's masterpiece. It was an abstract scribble of youthful splashes of color, relative to her age but still beautiful to the dove. It would remain there amongst the other paintings until the elements eventually washed it away. 

The cloudberry too found herself reclining on the ground, though with more care, and beamed a toothy grin at her stepdaughter. "It's quite lovely, little singer," Lótë murmured to the rust-tipped girl, lips quirking at the corners to see the vibrant hues staining Callyope's paws as it discolored her own. 

we can fade here if you like? Thank you for this adorable thread! If ever Callyope wants some more art lessons, just tag me! :)
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