Dragoncrest Cliffs dwa nesans

(click here for actual den locale: orange x) the blue x is where she is starting her nesting walk.

everyone is welcome to this birth, and no posting order <3

how harsh the tribulation of woman, to suffer pain when there is none for the man she chooses.
with the previous nightfall had come a sense of settlement, of ancient anticipation. and by midnight, mireille had sought @Chacal and @Rosalyn, made fearful by the clutchings of lighter pain along her abdomen. in this time, the fiery obsidian became only mireille: daughter of surf and salt, child of cliff and pine, a mother to be made.
the darkness hours were sleepless, and as morning cast down the soft pall of a new day, the pains began in earnest. such were they that mireille found herself shocked each time, stifling the cries in her throat as she paced between the roja den and bluepeace meadow.
for etchings of time, the agonies abated; mireille was able to drink water, to speak with those who gathered around her, to seek the comfort of the sea for her aching body. she ate little and seemed to glow with a fervency that spurred from the earthen core of her most primeval instincts.
laughter, perhaps, through the fear of what was to come. and in resignation to this pain, mireille handed over her want to call for @Val, to lift her voice in singular desire for him to be here, to attend in a capacity that belonged no longer to any man of sapphique.
throat tensed then, perhaps the glow around her vitally scarlet frame dimmed momentarily, only to brightly sail into the maw of the red-hot teeth that were hers now to endure.
in the saltmarsh, they started once more, and mireille gasped out to her sister that she must return to her den, their walling of thorns and twisting verdant tendrils, fruit-laden vines which curled down from the ceiling; she had found a mossy hollow deep within the tangle, the long-forgotten throne of some long-forgotten god. a great tree once, now only the nesting cup of a vacant stump reaching up toward unseen canopy with moss-blunted edges.
summer trilled in the meadow.
and mireille wept for her mother who was not with her, groaning in louder volume as the briarmade guardians of the tangle closed in protectiveness around her shadowed den.
oh, maman!
but this, alone, to a woman of the wild shores, clench jaw; bear down, uncaring now what eyes might see, for all belonged to those in blood and in love and mireille needed them now.
a wail, at last, to announce the child @Miette, a freshet of tears baptizing her when the crimson wolf found her firstborn a daughter. oh, a daughter! mireille shook in the heaviness of delivery, carefully uncauling the girl and smoothing her soft fur, almost unbelieving that so small a body had come from her own. ”sobeille miette,” she whispered, looking up toward chacal; their brother, sobo, named again in the salt wind that whispered through the thornbranches.
back now, into the din; mireille closed her eyes but found she was not afraid.
her body did as it was bid; she breathed, she found her strength in a low moaning hum, guttural and increasing until she gasped a second time —
@Chantale! second daughter but with no less pride endowing her birth. mireille swept the birth away from the newborn’s fur, growing more confident as the moments went on; a daughter tucked carefully against the first at her breast, and her eyes were warm upon them, tears coursing hotly even as she let out a hoarse laugh, nosing over the baby girl in wonderment. chantale and miette, and all was well for a short while.
more now, and this time she felt the pains faster, turning back to the vibrating thrum in her throat, stretching her body against the soft floor of the nesting hollow and experiencing herself thin into a starlit knife of pain, but only for a moment.
a boy, @Tousaint. where mireille might have turned her face from a man, this boy she had made of her own body, wrought him of flesh and blood and spirit, and she stared at him once he too had been cleansed; she marvelled at his perfection, and felt in her heart only love for him, determination to raise him as his tonton sobo had been: loyal to their shores, loyal to the women of his family, fierce in what he chose to do.
the lwa, perhaps, gathered in transparent silence to watch over yet another birth, granted mireille a longer respite this time; despite the thorns and the trancelike aching of all her body, she beckoned sapphique to gather, to see.
and before those who saw, mireille gathered the last of her strength. it was late afternoon now, sleeking into a vibrant evening sky; the sun touched the first of its descent when @Thibault was born, a second son, a fourth child, the last, and mireille loved him at once as she had with the others, this boy born of her spirit, of herself, of her home. a brother for tousaint, as etienne was to theo, as loko and sobo had been to her and chacal and coraline — sister eternal, wherever she was.
a kiss for each forehead; pelts smoothed; mireille could not tear her eyes from them, even as she lapsed into silence, the trembles of adrenaline whispering away as warmth took its place and she felt herself fulfilled beneath the great eye of the universe, over which surely her maman erzulie had seen the four new grandchildren she would guide from beyond the stars.

Bound to her sister through years of dedication, joy, and strife, Chacal recognized the signs of labour not only from her own experience, but from their sisterhood. Mireille roamed from one den to the other, and Chacal willingly attended her at every step when the fiery mother-to-be cast her a needful glance. When she turned to pace without a backward glance, Chacal allowed her to go- knowing she was seeking comfort as well from their mother. 

When she saw worry crease Mireille's brow she soothed it with kisses. When contractions stilled her breath, Chacal breathed through them with long, deep breaths. If she could have willed oxygen to be shared between the two of them, she would have. She would have taken on the burden of pain as well, regardless of having experienced it not so long ago herself. 

When the time drew nearer she responded to her sister's call and moved urgently toward the beginnings of the Tangle. She left her youngest brood in Suzu's care, though the children were all mobile enough that they could slip past their sluggish guard with ease. She waited in the small hollow, upon a bed of moss outside the great, empty trunk. She heard the gasping of breath, and the rustling of movement. The sounds of strain were registered, and soft utterings and songs of encouragement were given in return. 

To their Maman and Sobo, looming near them now with the sizzle of warm air, she offered prayers. 

The cry of relief was echoed by a coo of admiration from Chacal, who bathed her sister's brow in kisses. A little daughter- her first! She rejoiced for a moment, before tears stung her eyes. She sniffled and inhaled deeply as her cheek fur soaked up the first few tears to fall. Sobo would live on, his name offered once again to a child of Sapphique. 

The second to come was another girl- and named in a manner that reminded her of the name she herself had been given. She couldn't be sure if it was intended- but she smiled and looked upon the child fondly as she was nuzzled in next to her sister. 

When Mireille's contractions started again, Chacal became a bit restless. Three children! She could hardly contain her joy- and it did not falter to see that the third born child was a boy. Chacal was proud to see the cinnamon hues of her sister had been carried on in him, and in the moments of rest, she thought perhaps that her sister would be the mother of three- until her breaths grew short again. Not long after, a fourth- another boy- came into the world, and was snuggled in alongside his siblings. 

She pressed her muzzle to her sister's cheek, chuckling softly at the thought of another brood of four children. Many to watch over, to raise and to teach- but more to grow their legacy with. She whispered sweet praises into her sister's ear, before she moved back, to allow her space, and to leave her in the company of others while she went off in search of a meal for the pack's newest mother.

the order of life came like this: birth, decay, die. val had seen the latter two, but the first was as alien to him as the earliest ancestor to mammals.

he loitered along the tangle until the first call rang - there his heart set to racing as he snuffled along the barriers to at last find a tree; not any tree, but the seat of some older order. moss seeped its surface and settled deep within, older even than the felled tree it clung upon.

how he wanted to help! it seemed unfair that mireille would suffer for his seed within her. fraught, val paced outside while the murmured voices of both sisters reached his ears. he dared not enter until at last he heard the breathing within settle — only then did he darken mireille’s doorstep with his shadow.

four beautiful souls. val looked upon them softly — but it was truly mireille now who held captive his attention. that she could bring four new lives from her belly! he rushed to kiss her forehead, but stayed his urge to smother her. this was her hour, and hers alone — val thrummed with pride to be born alongside so powerful a woman, and to witness sapphique’s newest era ushered in.

as chacal left the den to hunt val settled outside it, his eyes restlessly shifting from den to shadow as his newest hour of guard set in.

Etienne was near the den
 He had followed his Matants pacing with his own ghostlike movements. He would not intrude only be there if the few sparse healings of he knew could be of use.

He'd grimace at her pain amd sigh at her sighs and He'd hurt for her, but she did well and in the end the boy wasn't needed. He stayed long enough to know of four new bodies. To be sure his auntie was okay and then with whispered congretulations amd i love yous. He'd go in search of Granme. Because it wasn't like her to miss such a thing.

first moments are often like first words; incomprehensible in their fleeting seconds. sobeille began her first moments encased in ruby-studded caul; when she emerged her fur was dark and streaked in fluid. 

how appropriate the start of her life would be baptized in water; the salt from her mother’s tears matched the salt that would claim her blood — no matter what providence life ordained for her, sobeille would never leave the sea. 

she did not nurse. her body squirmed against those of her siblings, her tiny fists curled and beating against any surface they could. mere seconds after delivery and sobeille was fighting for her foothold in this world, rapacious and unflinching as the powerful women whose shoulders she now stood upon.

His body was squeezed! Not that there had been much room to begin with, but the snugness had provided him with comfort, and he'd known nothing else. But the closeness grew until it was stifling, uncomfortable- like a hand had closed around him like he was a precious, stolen gem. Squeezed time and time again, until there came one great squeeze that moved him, slipping and pushing through, only to find himself still, cool, and fading slightly. 

It would not last long; There was movement, and that movement pressed along his sides and along his belly, until he coughed and inhaled- and finally, those organs he'd grown came into use, and he truly came to life. There was no dignity in his first few moments, full of pathetic mewling and fussing and being nudged or even being picked up and placed somewhere. In those moments he dangled like a limp puppet, and came to life only when he touched the ground again. With his eyes squinted shut he lifted his head like nobility, searching in spite of not knowing what it was to see. 

But when he felt it, with the tip of his muzzle, he knew what it was he wanted. 

Maman.

He kneaded with perfect little paws as he nursed, making loud, satisfied suckling noises until he filled his belly to the point where he couldn't possibly swallow another drop. A visit to the vomitorium would almost be necessary- though in the wake of such a hearty drink, the only thing he could muster next was a happy sigh before he drifted off to sleep.

The warmth of a mother's womb. 

He has spent all he has known inside of a figure he's only known as comfort. Of safety. Every being once knew of this feeling. The feeling of feeling irrefutably loved. Where no problems will ever touch you. Where you are home in the only home you've ever known, and where your actions have not rotted your brain to a walking corpse.

Where you are a passenger in life, fed through wires and tubes. Where you have no desires, because desires are needless. Where you do not need to worry of being loved or finding purpose. Where you are the purpose of someone else in the dead of your mind, a mind you do not need to begin with. Worries are a concept you do not know. Sadness, happiness, grief, anger, are myths unknown. You are blanketed in kindness.

You are safe here.

This is haven.

Do not leave mother's belly.



And he is thrown out into a world. He soon understands a feeling of being crushed, then being tossed on the floor. He now feels weight of a sack he's known as a friend and is being parted with it. It is torn from his body! Air floods down his lungs, and he knows cold. He knows feelings. He feels prickles on his skin, and he feels the world prodding his figure. He is a figure. When he tries to move, he is heavy. When his mouth opens again, and it hangs open now, he becomes helpless to a quiet cry that only happens once. Instead of flailing and screaming, he hardly makes sound. He hardly moves. He is not searching for milk. He is overwhelmed. He does not want to.

He's learned his first lesson he would wish to tell all.

Do not leave mother's belly. Stay in haven.