Hideaway Strath that's the language that stuns, scars, breathes into you

roar's eyes open (super late)! open to anyone realistically allowed inside the birthing den! :-)

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Roarke’s routine is normal except with it is interrupted by an outlier that the winter’s bane cannot predict. These are (usually) all handled in the same manner. Fussing and protesting with banshee screams until he things are on track once more …or as “on track” in the simple way that Roarke understands such things (which is to say not at all). He does not understand but it just is and he obeys his baser instincts as they command him to do what infants do best: eat, sleep and poop. It is comfortable. Roarke is often fussy until he is in his “place” — within touching proximity of Eiryls, a subconscious need that the pudgy, mobster in the making has yet to understand. It is miracle that she is not dead, that she was not dead upon being torn from the sac with him. Roarke does not understand this either, but he knows without knowing how when he is not near her and that is good enough for him to raise his voice in vocal protest.

Everything was normal. He was pressed between two siblings — Eirlys and another bean that he acknowledges as best he can acknowledge anything he cannot see and forgets about the second he wiggles out of their proximity because if he cannot feel it is ceases to exist to him until it…does. He suckles at his favorite teat (which is to say all of them because they all produce the same sweet mother’s milk just the same) until his stomach is contented and full. He detaches his greedy mouth from Lotte’s breast, little salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls to collect the droplets of milk that have dribbled down his chin and onto the plush, creamy pelage of his chest. It is sudden and it startles the winter’s bane into utter and uncharacteristic silence as his eye peep open, the seal that coagulates his eyes closed to the world breaks. The caliginous world he knows is in ruins as milky blue irises draw in light. His heart begins to pound as he blinks up at the large shadowy figure of Lotte and lets out a trembling whimper before he squeezes his eyes shut willing the comfortable darkness to come back.

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