Qeya River tarqiup inua

Someone long ago said that all beings are made of stardust.

Perhaps that was true.

Malrok knew the moon as well as he knew his own heart, beating steadily in the cavity of his chest. He saw that great orb in his mind and soul, long before this body was formed and slipped into a new life; 

Long before his own gaze had opened and took in its blue-tinged glow, here upon the Earth.

When Kigipigak and Sakhmet had come together in love, their respective bits of stardust had coalesced and formed two babes. Whether or not the soul that was Malrok was meant to occupy this now-tiny body was unknown—perhaps irrelevant.

Unseeing, unhearing, un. . .smelling. Everything at the moment was tactile.

He kneaded his paws against his mother's belly, feeling the plush fur against his pads, between his toes. Ran his nose along the curve of her ribs, noting each rise, each fall.

Like the ebb and flow of tides, overseen by the omnipresent moon.

If there had been holes in Sakhmet's heart, they did not show after the birth of her children.

She glowed, a radiant star protective over her moonbeam child(ren) at all moments. Kigipigak would be showed her glow just as much. Her love for him had expanded too. Twice over for each babe that laid at her side.

One of those babes stirred and Sakhmet, as a first mother, stirred whenever they did. Every movement and action was worth noting.

So where she laid upon her side, her head would rise. Looking down along herself to see Malrok move.

You are so lively, It was cooed with awe and love.

She would wish for them to be no other way.

A rumble, subterranean, beneath him. Like the mightiest of earthquakes, but no catastrophe was this. . .warm. He leaned into the vibrations, letting the echo of them ripple across his cheek. They continued to hum inside his brain, even as they subsided in the flesh.

Uumakŋa aggiqsutin. Stardust, coalesced into flesh and blood and bone. Within her a spirit, and before he knew her, he knew her. 

Knew her.

Malrok slid, slowly, and began to root for a nipple. He latched and suckled, but with no great ferocity, content to let the primal victuals pass over his tongue and into his core.

Uumakŋa aggiqsutin.

Puuyuqqaŋaa.

Her baby.

She wondered what her mother would think, to see two sons at her side — and her heart clutched tightly. The first realization she had had like this.

Two brothers.

She had lost two brothers.

But here laid two, perfect sons — brothers — at her side. And she tried not to burst into a weep for the emotion that overcame her suddenly. Softly she slid her nose over Malrok, repeating the soothing process over @Attuaserk as well.

My babies,

She cooed lowly.

Stick together.

Whispered softly between them, a moment privy only to her and her sons.

Always.

More vibrations—he leaned into them, still nursing but practically mashing his face against her belly as she spoke. The words and sentiment would be lost upon him, but the sensation was soothing. 

She could rattle off the worst words in any language, and Malrok heedless to intent.

As long as she kept talking. . .

He detached with a tiny belch, slowly shifting downward again, feeling slumber pull at his limbs. Her pelt was soft, and he enjoyed the feel of it especially against more sensitive parts of his face: his nose, the tips of his ears. . .

It was within this warm softness that he struggled with wakefulness.

There was a white wolf at the edge of dreams, waiting for him.

She knew that they would not understand, but still she yearns to speak to them. To whisper in their ears secrets lost in time and to gods darker than the ones known here.

Certainly, she thought, her own mother had told her stories even when she could not understand them.

A silent, pale wolf... My ghost...

She trailed off softly. The details of her story would weave Anansi into a figure of myth. Some grand story to be passed down. How he was wise beyond any, and his actions spoke louder than words. The tragedy would taint the story too, but painted in a kinder light. She would tell them that the earth itself grew jealous of his strength and wisdom. That the very gods who blessed him feared that he might know more than them.

And one sly, a fox in wolf clothing...

Sobek would be given the same treatment. Weaved into a story of a wily thing. Slipping loose in the nights, but always coming home. Knowledgeable like the ghost, with a keen eye on things in his forest. Tongue always direct when he gave words. But the earth and gods grew with envy once more, to see such a swift creature of body and mind. So they froze him in time.

You are stronger together. Safer together.

An exhale, soft and warm over their crowns. It was entirely possible they both slumbered now, but some part of her healed from this.

Two shadows lingered alongside the white wolf, one pale, one dark, as Sakhmet's vibrations continued to flow through him. He stared at the trio in his mind's eye, watched as the aġnalluataq herded them gently away, then gestured in his direction with her muzzle.

"Qaġġaiñ, Malrok," she sang sweetly, and he padded toward her, even as his corporeal form slipped away into a shallow sleep.

The pair flanked him, the aġnalluataq behind, and they walked along the edge of a dark forest, boughs laden heavy with snow. Every so often, one would crack; he flinched at the sound, but watched the icy shower with keen eyes.

His tiny paws twitched. Malrok was dreaming.

There was no doubt, at the slow breaths and twitching paws, that her son had fallen into slumber.

Some part of her healed.

Another night he would hear stories of her own mother, a lighter story, one that had no ending like the tales of brothers.

can be a fade? <3