Sun Mote Copse red breath

birthing thread/first pack activity! @Ar-Khalba @Arunik'ra @Asherah @Ragna. round one ends 9.11.16

eshamun slept alone following the claiming howl, retreating to a small den she had dug for herself. when the pains begun, molech had just begun to draw back the veil of night from across the skies, and the ekar-aji braced herself and set her jaw so she would not cry out. in a grim silence she laboured, the floor of the den wet with the sweet waters that had broken from her loins in a welter -- in quietude she writhed, refusing to call for ar-khalba or even her dear sister.

but eshamun knew that these children must be born beneath the god's golden light, and so with tight breaths and hitching steps she made her way to the denmouth, pausing when the cramping pains racked her body, ripping low, agonized moans from her lips. a sense of panic began in the canaanite's heart; she had been prepared for this, groomed to take the helm of the malkaria, but even her mother's warnings had not prepared her for the hot lances of pain that thrust through her body.

the heavens had lightened; eshamun cried then for the priestess, their sunspear, but it was a call of fear from her heart to that of her kith. she dared not buckle to the ground, for she would not rise; she must come instead to the fork of the stream not far from her den, and bring forth her children there. "sister," she moaned, leaning against the slim red shoulder of the other, "sister, i must do it now. we cannot wait for the eighth day; i do not ... i do not trust myself."

they came to the waters and eshamun broke away from arunik'ra and fell to the earth, her screams scarring her throat even as her body felt as if it were divided in twain, and blood and water met the light of day to reveal the gasping, crying muzzle of her firstborn. 

she did not turn to clean the babe, leaving this task instead to arunik'ra -- in rapid succession, or so it felt, she birthed four more small, strong bodies, all squalling with toothless jaws for her milk and for her warmth. and still the ekar-aji did not turn, for the stress of the birth and the knowledge of what she must do drew a weak and mewling cry from her, a sob upon which she closed her jaws tightly. she would not allow herself to look upon them, though their tiny sounds had brought milk to bead upon her teats, and her heart ached until her body trembled to embrace her children. "call them," she gritted to the priestess, not daring to meet the knowing eyes of molech's chosen one.

eshamun faced into the gentle stream which rushed placidly over its stone bed, and breathed in the presence of her god as the light of dawn reached down to light the copse with the fire of morning-sun.

The call awoke her. Blearily she lifted her head. Had it not been Arunik'ra's voice, she would have gone back to sleep. But it was the priestess, and that drew her to her feet. Ragna stretched, first, and yawned widely before she began to move with great urgency. It had come from the interior of the forest, not the borders, and the strange hour meant but one thing to Ragna. Eshamun's time had come.

This spurred her on. Though the thought of what was to come terrified her, but she knew that it would be no better for Eshamun, or Arunik'ra, or Ar-Khalba, who was their father. Would this be easier for them, since they had been born into the culture? Or did the knowledge that they could have been culled hang over them. It was far too personal for her to ask, and she could never trust herself to voice the question correctly.

As she approached, the sound of flowing water predominated, but beneath it she thought she could hear the squeaking cry of children.

Immediately, the copper stink of blood hit her. Ragna gave a startled gasp, shocked to see Eshamun and how much blood had pooled beneath her. Upon the bloodied grass lay five squalling pups, tended to not by Eshamun but Arunik'ra. Even Ragna, who had never witnessed a birth and took no great interest in motherhood, knew this to be wrong. But it was not her place to say anything. To groom them would be too great a temptation. She, Eshamun, might become attached. A deep, painful ache opened within her heart and gut like a chasm. The child in her wanted to flee, to not have to watch what was to come. But she was Shieldmaiden. She was the heir of Ragnar. She would not flee, and she would be tempered by this. She was brave, brave enough for this.

Unsure of what her place was, Ragna sat nearby, out of the way but close enough to come if she was asked. Do you need help? she asked, though she did not know how she could. Looking upon Eshamun's trembling body and not doing anything seemed wrong, though, and offering her help felt right.

eshamun's time had come, and with it, the will of molech. arunik'ra was a presence, a shoulder -- but her mind was elsewhere. her mind was on molech.

as her sister strained beneath her hovering gaze and the river bled a sanguine rush, arunik'ra darkly tended; each pup was plucked from the riverbed and set sopping and screaming on the grass. ragna arrived and the scarlet woman offered her the thinnest of smiles, though shook her head softly -- ragna could be a witness this time -- next time, a participant. silently she set to cleaning the babes of their gris, and soothing them of their short-lived discomforts.

to a wolf not raised by the malkaria, they looked precious and full of life. the scarlet priestess was aware that this was ragna's first ceremony -- she only hoped the wolf strong enough to endure it. arunik'ra, like eshamun, knew their destiny. she would await the ekar-aji's word.

A voice on the night, calling for the pack. She rose but was not confused. She knew what had happened, what was happening. Her eyes were wide and her heart was fast as she scrambled from her earthen den and into the sweet, summer scented air. She waste no time in arriving to the scene, her feet flying in a pace to match her heart.

She took in the scene with concern, Eshamun lay bleeding and crying, babes squalled into the a quickly fading night. Her priestess tended the babes tenderly, and Asherah understood this. She was peaceful to think the cold of this world and the discomfort of birth would be all the pain they'd ever know. They'd never truly understand it, either. She felt emotion swirl within her breast, though, for her sister and the children the pack would not know. Her eyes met Arunik'ra's, asking if anything was needed at all. She desperately wanted to tend to Eshamun, she wished she could clog her ears to the screams of new life, to save her. Yet, their voices were strong and unwavering, they were voices to be proud of. Perhaps it best she hear them, for she never would know their voices otherwise.

In her head she began a running prayer to Molech, fast and quick, blessing her sister and the children and praying that all would end well. Yet she remain alert in case Eshamun or Arunik'ra called for her. "Drape your many arms around my sister tonight, Molech, hold her close in your light. Shine through her and her babes, heal her wounds and soothe their sufferings as you take them to your breast..."

The day that Ar-Khalba both eagerly awaited and thoroughly dreaded approached with each cycle of the sun. When the call of the high-priestess sounded through the copse, the man knew it was time. Eshuman had carried their litter -- their sacrifice -- to term. The ritual soon approached. His heart lurched in his chest, wrenching as if it had been caught in the tight grip of a vice, but he rose from the spot to do his duty to the Malkaria.

He joined the others near the whelping den. The scent of blood and afterbirth hung heavy in the air. He could hear them -- the sounds of his first born. But, were they truly his? Their souls -- of them Ar-Khalba bore no ownership. However, knowledge of the old ways aside, he was unprepared for this day. Truthfully, there was no way. Not when it was the same blood that ran though his own heart smeared across the altar.

And so, he stood in silence and slipped on a stoic mask.

round two will end 9.17.16 @arunik'ra @Ar-Khalba @Asherah @Ragna free posting order!

they came, and eshamun's muzzle tipped shakily as she looked upon each one of their faces in turn, though her eyes filled with the secret pain she shared with ar-khalba as she looked upon him, the agony of parents who have lost their children. it is the will of molech, she told the man silently, tearing her gaze away from him to glance heavenward. the shaft of light had broadened to touch her more fully, and she knew it must be now, now, before she lost her ability to lead the malkaria.

"may molech look upon us favorably this day, as we gather in the glow of the eight-armed one's radiant blessing. i call you here today to witness the illidu-dam, the sacrifice i present so that we may claim this land beneath our feet, so that it is ours, and may bring forth fruit and life in the future."

her voice had gained strength as she spoke, but as eshamun turned and for the first time looked at the tiny, churning bodies that she had carried within her own for so long, as the mother's ache rose violently in her chest to cause a tangible pain, she felt her body shake with the weakness of their terrible birth and the grief that broke in waves across her heart.

"res drunak," eshamun murmured, turning to her sister. "you are the high priestess of the malkaria. you are the one who walks between this world and the next. help me to send these souls to molech, to satisfy the hunger of the great one." the ekar-aji's tones were firm, but her eyes quietly begged arunik'ra to stand beside her through the horrid thing to come.

she lowered her muzzle among her children; they instinctively flocked to her, to the scent of their natural mother, and eshamun could hide her tears no longer as she closed her jaws 'round one small, delicately boned body and waded gingerly into the shallows, casting a glance at the priestess as she awaited the words of her sister.

One by one they arrived, brother and sisters. Ar-Khalba came, and Ragna wondered how he felt. Was he attached to these children in the same way Eshamun was? He was not the one to carry them, but they were the fruits of his seed. Did he love them? His face was a stony mask, one that Ragna emulated. She would not be weak, not here, not now. She was made of sterner stuff than that. She was made from sea-salt and warrior's blood, and she would not balk.

She had been called to witness, and so she would. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she had mastered her expression into one not of apathy, but something close. Carefully, carefully, she listened to Eshamun's words. This was the illidu-dam, and if Ragna ever thought to have children, this destiny would befall one. Though the weakness in her heart begged her to turn away, Ragna watched as Eshamun took the first of her children into her jaws. And then she watched and she waited and she listened.

Asherah's mind whirled with noise, the repeated prayers that she silently sent, not wanting to disturb the ritual or corrupt the offering, even with prayer. She stared at the tiny bodies as they came into the world and then closed her eyes a moment. They were beautiful. She turned her gaze skyward, gathering strength from Molech, before they dropped back down to the children.

"They will know your embrace, take them into your arms quickly, dear Molech. Hold them close and safe, warm them with your eternal light." Her eyes watched Eshamun and Arunik'ra, the concern for her sister's shown within the orange pools. This was for the best, this was what was needed. The children would not suffer, they would go straight to Molech's arms. It didn't stop her concern for how the loss would take it's toll on Eshamun. In time she would be able to look back and accept this day for the blessing and honor it was. However...a mother must mourn, and Molech surely would understand.

they gathered, small disciples under molech's watchful eye. arunik'ra turned her gaze to the whirling orbit of puppies, no trace of pity lacing her eyes. as she had said to asherah -- they were the lucky ones.

to never know pain.

to never know the dull ache of hunger.

to never fear, or experience heartbreak.

they would only know molech's light in their short lives.

as eshamun grabbed the first arunik'ra extended her muzzle to the pup's twitching form, placing a glistening nose on the pup's wrinkled brow. she murmured a few words in the old tongue, an incantation she had learned from ashtorath. the words left her lips softly, foreign to all save for her and eshamun -- and as the river gently lolled besides them arunik'ra grappled the second puppy between her teeth and waded into the shallows with purpose.

she lowered her head to the rushing waters and the pup squirmed with the new sensation, a dull squall rising over the rush of the river. for a moment the white froth of the river rapidly speared past the pup -- divergent streams of rime and alabaster foam. arunik'ra then pushed her entire muzzle underwater, placing a paw on the pup's small chest as it squirmed wildly and silenty between sand and riverstones.

"may molech's spark guide you," she said grimly, watching the tranquil river's surface that spoke nothing of the turmoil below.

round three will end 9.23.16

eshamun's attention was focused upon arunik'ra - -she felt a sting of anger as her sister's jaws closed 'round the second of the four babes, but steeled herself with another breath. the pup in her jaws writhed, squalling, but eshamun could only look on as the priestess held the first child beneath the waters. grief rose to choke her, but she held fast -- she would not allow herself to weep, nor to stop her sister. this must be done. it was molech's will.

it was for the malkaria.

swiftly eshamun lay her own small burden into the river and followed suit, pressing the child down into the silt, beneath the rushing tongue of the waters until the tiny body thrashed no more. arunikr'ra and the ekar-aji did take the last two pups and deliver their souls to molech in the same fashion, removing them from the waters, until four sodden little bundles lay along the river's edge.

"molech, may your hunger be sated. may your eye be turned away from us; may you grant us blessings upon our heads and upon our lands. this copse, for the malkaria. this riverbank, our tophet. praise be to you, eight-armed one." eshamun's voice trembled only a moment before she added, "we will bury their bodies at the shrine. who among you will help us carry them to that place?"

Gently, gently, the babes drowned. It was not so awful, to drown? Though the children struggled, Ragna could not see it. She merely saw them enter the stream as living, squalling things and leave it with the stillness of death. Their bodies sat, unmoving, upon the riverbank. It was baptism, reversed. The process seemed to drag on forever until it was done, and then it seemed to have been irreverently short.

Ragna felt numb, as though her mind and body had filled with so many emotions that they grew overcrowded and fled as one. It was this very numbness that gave her the confidence to step forth. I will, she said, the strength in her voice betraying the weakness of her heart. Perhaps it would help, though, to see the bodies laid to rest. She waited for further instruction, her heart beating a heavy tattoo.

She prayed for peace, for a quick passing. The pups disappeared beneath the rush of the water and a silent body was lifted. Asherah smiled softly, yet sadly, to see the young one past pain, to know that it lay against Molech's breast now. The sodden body was lain on the ground and the next was taken to the river. The first had seemed to take years, but the following bundles seemed to go quickly. Molech was merciful.

Her eyes rested on the bodies, now safely with Molech. They were beautiful and in the light of Molech they would be more so. Eshamun spoke of the shrine, of burying the children. Ragna stepped forward quickly, and though she longed to leap forward just as fast, her eyes first strayed towards Arunik'ra and Ar-Khalba. She wondered if Ar-Khalba would want to carry them, or if Arunik'ra would. Would Eshamun herself carry one? It was this thought that sent her forward finally, the idea that perhaps Eshamun would not wish to carry one, and that if both the priestess and Ar-Khalba did she would not need to.

"I will." Her voice was soft but did not falter. Her gaze fell on the children once more, still and sleeping. She longed to lick the damp from their fur, to lay the vessels to rest clean and dry. They had blessed this land, this pack. They were saviors, heroes to be praised for their sacrifice to Molech.

Though Molech willed the sacrifice to take place, Ar-Khalba had nary the strength to bear the ritual. He could not watch -- not as the desperate cries of his firstborn were silenced by the cold sweep of the river. Each bright spark, these individual souls, were quickly snuffed out in the name of the Lord. His gaze was quickly averted. Looking down, Ar-Khalba hid the tears that peppered his pained expression.

His mask had slipped.

When the deed was done, Ar-Khalba felt as if he was an empty vessel. Hollow -- far more so than he had believed he would be in the days leading up to the birth. The Katimir had little time to dwell on his sadness, as he was called forth by the Ekar-Aji. He stepped forward, silently grieving, yet expressing his willingness to take his sons and daughters to their final resting place.

third and final round will end 9.29.16. post as many times as you would like

ragna spoke first, then asherah, and eshamun looked upon them fondly. she did not wish them to touch her children, but recognized this as a manifestation of her own voided motherhood, one she must disallow from colouring her ability to lead them to the shrine. "thank you," she murmured, glancing to ar-khalba as pain filled her hollow belly. 

taking up her macabre burden, and presuming that the three wolfesses would do the same, eshamun thus led her people unto the shrine that the res drunak had sanctified for them, fighting her own grief with each step. when they arrived, eshamun lay down the child and began to dig in the rich loam of the sacred earth, excavating a small grave into which she gently lay the body.

when her children had been covered, when eshamun found her words beneath the unsteadiness of tears, she spoke. "to molech they return; may the power of the sacrifice encircle this place and thus bless the malkaria. so let it be done. the illidu-dam is finished." the virdian eyes swept her wolves then silently, inviting them to speak or to move off into the shadows and depart the saddening place.

The procession was a justly somber one. The sodden body seemed impossibly small and fragile in her jaws, and though she knew the child beyond pain she carried it with the utmost of care. It was hard to suppress the feelings of grief that rose within her as she carried the tiny body. The comforting thoughts were hard to remind herself of with such a concrete and depressing reminder. The young were at Molech's breast, in Molech's embrace, but to be so they had to die. There was a loss of life with their blessing, it could not be ignored.

Seeing her sister and leader so torn broke her heart. She longed to provide comfort to Eshamun, but no comfort would soothe this wound. To attempt now would be near insulting. Ar-Khalba, too, broke her heart. The sadness in his eyes, the wetness on his face that no doubt came from tears. She would go to him soon, she thought, once she was sure that the pair did not wish to take comfort in each other.

Eshamun's voice rose and Asherah nodded to her words, closing her eyes and following her sister's voice in prayer. When she opened her eyes, Eshamun glanced among them. She spoke then, her voice soft but loud enough to be heard. She looked to her sister as she spoke. "Their sacrifice will not be forgotten, they have blessed us all. May they rest peacefully in Molech's arms."

One by one they stepped forth, and Ragna's stomach churned nervously until it was time to lift her tiny burden. It was still wet, and beneath the water she could taste the blood and afterbirth. She pushed it from her mind, instead following the lead of her sisters in their procession to the Shrine.

Ragna did as the Ekar-aji did, mimicking her as best as she could for fear of misstepping. When the hold was dug, the Shieldmaiden placed the still child in the shallow grave and began to push the freshly-turned soil back over it. This was surely meant to be a moment of prayer, but nothing came to her, and so she let Eshamun's words to Molech be her own. And when the red woman declared the thing to be done, Ragna left quietly, seeking solitude. She would go north to the shores and let the salt sea wash over her until her heart found peace again.

one by one they were held under-water, and one by one the light snuffed from them. as their bodies piled arunik'ra watched the proceedings without remorse clouding her features. it was the way -- and the only way.

as eshamun softly prayed arunik'ra took the time to silently study the composure of her compatriots. surprisingly, it was not the new accolytes that showed their reservations -- it was ar-khalba. the red priestess' gaze did not harden, but she watched the male for a long time after.

as the others hunkered down to carry the limp bodies arunik'ra broke into gentle song, a prayer in their old tongue given life by lyric. she dug as she sang, her slender frame a grim sight. to an outsider it may have seemed strange to be rejoicing while resuming the deportment of undertaker; but to arunik'ra, this life was the only life she knew.