Sleeping Dragon i'm wishing they'd stop tryna turn me off

She was sick to death of her den, and the accompanying loneliness. Others would visit, providing what scarce meat they could afford, but the Corvidae was entirely useless to them all. Her injuries were a liability with the shortage of prey, and she had been unable to contribute in any meaningful way in the weeks following the bear attack. Magpie had been a storm of negative emotions before the locusts had made short work of the Wilds, and her internal situation had only worsened from there. She was entirely cut from all the things that made her life worth living, and her mind continued to darken into a deep depression. Magpie had no advice to give, and even if she had, she had no desire to give it. She figured it would fall onto deaf ears, anyway.

It wasn't that she couldn't move— her ribs and flank still ached, but they had begun to heal— but that she had little motivation to do so. She wouldn't have been able to hunt if prey were still abundant, let alone travel a long distance in the hopes that a search in this famine would prove fruitful. The lack of red meat made her recovery even slower, and the health of the pack was far more important than her own.

Her days were spent mostly sleeping, and wishing she were asleep when she was awake. Magpie's eyes were closed now, her head resting on her forepaws just outside the small crevice's entrance.

There had never been a doubt to her fertility, believing so purely in Frigga and Freyja as Gyda did, but if there would have been it was gone now. Her teats had begun to swell and ache and she was showing. While her bump was not as large as she thought it might be, eventually, it was enough; and besides she could swear she felt little flutters as they moved within her womb. As honored and blessed as she felt there was a certain level of aggression that had taken hold of the Viking Queen. A protectiveness towards that life that grew within her unlike anything she'd ever known before. More than once, she'd considered seeking Gavriel out once more, wanting to talk to him about the life that they had created together but hesitated, unsure if the beast would care. They were not mates, after all: something that she had painfully insinuated she did not want. This created a bubble of loneliness within Gyda for she was not sure who else to talk to about it. Lucani was gone and Gyda hadn't seen her mother in many months.

She had stopped for the fifth time that morning to relieve herself, finding that gradually it was becoming more frequent. Her hunger was an uncomfortable and unwelcome guest to her and she ate as much as she could but the famine did not make it easy. She extended the extra effort regardless, if only for the sake of the life she carried. She made her way to Magpie's den with the intent to check in on the ebony cloaked woman. Gyda, admittedly, didn't know her very well but that did not ease the uselessness she felt. The shield-maiden wished there was more she could do for her, but her knowledge of healing was embarrassingly limited and basic, her desire for it having waned when she'd joined the ranks of the Cove. Alas, there was not much Gyda could do nor offer her expect basic pain killers. “Magpie?” Gyda inquired, her accented voice soft, shifting her weight, as Gyda was still adjusting to the added weight and bulk of her growing babes.

Her eyes fluttered open as Gyda spoke her name, and she looked on the pregnant woman with dull eyes. She lifted her head, but it was about all the energy she could (or would) muster. The Queen was more of a mystery to the black-and-white woman than Thuringwethil herself, but Magpie felt certain that she did not think much of the fleimkepa— perhaps because Magpie did not think much of herself at the moment— and so she did not understand the softness or empathy in Gyda's manner. She found, too, that in her current state... she didn't really care one way or another.

"Gyda," she responded roughly, in reciprocated greeting. "You've grown," Magpie commented next, in a bleary sort of way— like she were dreaming, or suffering from a fever. In reality, she was groggy with a pain and exhaustion that was further complicated by the darkening of her mind. Isolation had never looked good on the female, and it seemed to be her constant companion since devoting herself to Drageda.

Magpie's observation was met with a bemused smirk from the Viking Queen who couldn't deny it — it was the truth; and there was no insult to be had. She took the routundness to be a good sigh, holding on the hope that it meant the babes growing within her womb were healthy. She...now they had thus far held steadfast against the famine. She did not care if they ruined her body: they were what she had wanted most in the world and as the days waned on she was ever so anxious for them to come into the world, desiring to know what they looked like ...to perhaps see glimpses of who they would become. “I had some help,” The Shield-Maiden concurred with a soft chuckle. For a moment Gyda lingered in the silence before she sought to change the subject focus off of her. “How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?” For that...Gyda knew Lucani had some stores remaining but they were waning and Storm had never held up his end of the bargain — Lucani's stores would not last forever and until the blooms returned there was not much Gyda could do for Magpie. As it was, her abilities remained woefully basic: but she knew enough plants under Thistle's patience guidance to be able to be of some use.