Hideaway Strath [M] Offerings of Blood, Sweat and Tears

The Priestess' cloudwisp ears perked curiously, head tilting aside just so as the words of Vein's native tongue graced her ears with their harsh, musical melodies -- grating and beautiful all at once. He had mentioned a word or two of the dialect in passing but Aerin reminded herself to ask about the language later, interested in learning more about her husband's culture. She was drawn back to the ceremony when the Bonesplinter stepped to her, the midwife glad to pass the waning fawn over to husband for slaughter -- lips moving in a silent prayer of her own to Ixtab for the tiny creature.

She dipped her head in acceptance, pale eyes shuttered by lids of snowfall and lashes of frost as they slid shut -- welcoming the sticky paint of the fawn's lifeblood as her husband bathed her in the same rubied streaks he was known for wearing. When her eyes opened, she moved to stop him -- stepping forward to press her muzzle to his shoulder. "Allow me," she suggested in whispered tones before reaching for the fawn's body, dipping her tapered muzzle in the dying grazer's blood and gathering a generous amount before liberally smearing it along her husband's broad form. Along the line of his muzzle's ivory bridge and beneath each golden eye, along the sweep of his pallid cheeks before sweeping some along the curve of his throat and down his chest. She swiped some along his forelegs and ribs before steeping away, satisfied with her handiwork.

She settled back on her haunches again, watching with wide eyes as Vein reached the climax of the ceremony and the moment she'd been dreading came -- her husband drawing back and plunging through the fawn's chest cavity to rip out its heart. To her credit, the Saluki's pale gaze didn't waver. Her breath shuddered as she drew in a quick, gasping inhale with the fawn's death but her eyes remained fixed on the sight, her chin drawing up a millimeter as she clenched her jaw in a projection of strength -- refusing to show how the sacrifice might have bothered her. 

It was the way of the world, she reminded herself. A cruel world but theirs all the same.

Though Aerin was unaware that is was dangerous for pregnant she-wolves to drink fermented beverages, Vein had already mentioned that they should abstain and she trusted her mate's judgement -- especially where it regarded anything related to caregiving. She left the mead to Vein and Derg, instead trotting forward to claim a chunk of the fawn's tender underbelly for herself.