Hushed Willows someone (holy) insisted

Its OK! Sorry if I inundated you with tags. Kat feel free to post whenever or just chill as a little potato. Also if either of you want me to change my posts (as I took some liberties) just let me know!

Both children slept now, but Octavia could feel the tiny body next to her, and the warmth that flowed from it. She kept her eyes on the other child, the one which had become a brick before her, though her ears swiveled when Warbone made his approach; she flicked her tired eyes his way and then returned them to the dead boy, still weeping openly despite the quiet of her sadness. His question goes unanswered. The scene before him was evidence enough that the pregnancy was over and she couldn't open her mouth to tell him more, feeling the great swell of emotion within her. Speaking now would only cause that rising tide to erupt from within her, and she had to be strong now.

Without comment, without prompting or any warning, Octavia lurched towards the dark body by her snout and grasped the head with her teeth. She tugged and brought the dead boy closer — a tender moment wherein she could taste her tears through the gaps of her lips — and then she jerked her head another way; the boy's neck snapped with a tiny pop. It was necessary for what she was about to do, just in case his weak little body had any life it in at all. It was a kindness. As she released his small face from the trap of her teeth, Octavia focused upon the belly and the legs, and began to do what had to be done — before Warbone could do or say anything to prevent it, Octavia consumed the bulk of his tiny body.

By the time she was finished picking him apart, only the head remained. Her tears had dried, and she looked down upon the puddle of parts bathed in red and shadow, and then turned away from it. The boy was gone now, and would aid her in keeping the other alive. Briefly her eyes lit upon Warbone's features, and she wondered what he thought of it — but then she decided she didn't care, and began to tend to the sleeping child at her breast. The blood upon her lips mixed with the spilled milk which had soaked in to his greedy little face, but in the dark Octavia did not notice.