Ouroboros Spine i try to give a party, and the guy upstairs complains

forward dated to 9/9!

since making an entrance into life lómion had been nowhere but inside the walls of the family home, nestled neatly between his siblings.
there’s more out there. he sensed it just beyond the door. a near silent world that grew louder each day. brighter too. no longer could he observe it from a distance. curiosity acted as a road to this new world and the boy followed it.
this was no easy journey. lómion rarely ever stood — let alone walk — so he stumbled on every little thing on the path. That included his own paws. 
despite the many tumbles he took, the little baptiste did not give up. onward he goes until the morning breeze drifts over his face. the sudden chill sent a shiver through his entire body. the new feeling elicits a giggle.

Vairë had been testing her own legs over the course of many days, so sure that this new motion would revolutionize her world in ways she wouldn’t ever guess. Fawn child hadn’t perfected it, but she was learning fast.

Fast enough that when brother wobbled his way past her, Vairë followed, stumbling to still wobbly legs and coming along on the journey with him. They were herd, no one should be alone, not even stag, whispered the doe to the cub.

She wobbled and wavered and followed doggedly, never letting her frequent stumbling get her down, following and following until the breeze touched her wet little nose and she blinked at the big wide world before her gaze, awe bringing forth a rather comical “o” to her mouth.

Near her, she heard Lómion giggle, and she moved to at least try to stand beside him, present a unified front to the new world beyond their feet. Puppy blues swung to her brother, before they were back on the outside once again.

autumn had come to the spine, the herds of red deer milling with a new energy in the lowlands as they prepared to migrate to winter grazing territory -- just as the smaller critters in the pines entered into a last frenzy, preparing for the long sleep that would see them through winter. as the leaves shifted in color and the world morphed around them, her summer children too began to grow and change with the seasons. they were beginning to find their feet and it was an early morning -- before the gamma had left the nestlings in her sister's care to round the borders on a patrol -- spent lazily cuddling her pups when two of them moved to investigate the outside world for the first time. 

she left ink and wil where they dozed, tucking a soft hide of deerhide over their backs for warmth, trotting over to the threshold of the ulaq where lómion and her little story-weaver watched the wind dance in the evergreens and the light fog blowing through forest. a grin grew on her lips to hear her usually reserved son of twilight giggling and she nuzzled him with kisses before rasping her tongue along vairë's spine affectionately -- not wanting her daughter to feel discluded. 

"it is beautiful, yes?" she hummed softly to the pair as she glanced outside again. she shifted, moving around the children to stand a few feet outside of the den. she cast a wary eye out for the broad, pale build of their father. it was too cold for the younglings to be outside long but it wouldn't hurt for a moment or two right here by the den -- if the dove could encourage the little ones to come out that was. 

"would you like to see?" she chirped gently as she faced the den and her cubs again, tail wagging as she dipped low to the ground and whined softly to coax them out. 

lómion had been so transfixed on the outside world, he hadn’t noticed his younger sister had followed him. when her lighter figure entered his periphery he jumped with a gasp, only settling when he realized who she was. 
again the boy giggled, first to brush off the shock, then after another gentle wind washed over the him.
he did, however, hear his dear mother join them. and he leaned into her love with a gentle smile.
he watched curiously as lótë walked a few paces, then straightened up when she invited them into the unknown.
lómion was tentative suddenly. the world was so daunting now. but he followed his dam nonetheless. a glint of wariness and fascination was held in his eyes.

Mother doe answered the call of the outside, her form easily stepping over and away from the two cubs at the den entrance, fawn answering her affectionate swipe of grooming with a disgruntled squeak and a wiggle of a ratty puppy tail.

Ló easily stepped out into the world, but Vairë needed a moment to skeptically squint at it, like a collector appraising a piece, before the little fawn lifted her toes from the entrance and pressed them to the grass.

She moved a few scant inches, her eyes trained on the grass. Oh yes, she remembered this! This was food! With nary a moment’s thought, Vairë planted her face into the grass and dirt to gum enthusiastically on a few blades of crunchy fall greenery.

the herbalist wasn't sure whether the pups would actually follow or not, they were still a bit young to be leaving the den after all, but they seemed emboldened by her nearby presence and ventured out -- albeit slowly and hesitantly. lótë grinned reassuringly, "see? it's nice out here." lómion seemed a bit overwhelmed with his surroundings but vairë quickly found her stride, darting towards a clump of grass and attempting to chow down. 

with a laugh, the mother dove straightened and trotted to the speckled cub's side. "you might eat the grass if you wish, vairë, but i'm not so sure you'll enjoy it." she sat, curling buff haunches beneath her to keep an eye on her daughter -- emeralds flickering to lómion occasionally as well. there wasn't any harm in it, lótë knew many wolves who ate grass though this was usually in the event of stomach upset. she just wanted to be sure her daughter didn't choke on the grass. 

after a moment, she gestured to the grass with her muzzle before brushing the pads of a single paw along the tops of the blades. "this is grass," she informed her children, including them both, in spite of the fact that they wouldn't understand. babies just liked being talked to, as lótë had quickly learned. "other animals eat it -- like moose and deer."

they played in the sunlight for a moment longer before a wind blew up fiercely and she grew concerned of the cold -- not to mention the paranoia that adrastus still lingered nearby, no longer a comforting shadow but an inescapable one. then she ushered the cubs back indoors, back into the warmth and security of their den.[/b]