Noctisardor Bypass the wild god reaches into a bag made of moles and nightingale-skin

Etienne didn't know if pregnancy would be smart for Druid again. Granted he had not been alive long, but he had seen both his mother and auntie through pregnancy. And both had done, well. So much better than this. It disturbed him and upset him and though he was angry. He didn't wish ill will on Druid.

A ghost of a pawstep forward. Unsure what to do. Should he help her? Let her rest? And his own internal turmoil. He didn't feel like a healer right now. He felt drained and angry and vengeful.


A softening around his eyes and in the golden gaze. He shifted forward and tentatively brilushwd a muzzle along her head if she'd allow. Both for comfot and to check for fever?

He raised a brow, but didn't speak. Instead he sat, opening the floor for her to speak and rest. Patiently. He waited.