Dragoncrest Cliffs all right

maybe @Sobo or @Loko if either of you have time/space! otherwise AW :D

ever since his eyes had opened just the day before, most of quennell's time was spent staring at the blinding light of the den's opening. entranced, enticed. he could not make out the details of the things he occasionally saw at the mouth of the den but everything was greeted with shrill sounds of puppy delight either way.

that post-nap afternoon, whoever had come to the mouth of the den enough to cast shadow upon the babe, would be greeted in the same way.

a symphony of sounds as baby blue eyes stared off to the entrance.

Sobo visited often, sometimes bringing items from Erzulie's stores that she requested, or spending time with Rosalyn in the warming sun outside the den, or delivering a gift, or simply hovering protectively nearby. Day by day, his little siblings grew and changed. Sobo thought he would take a particular interest in Quennell, being another boy, and he determined to keep the shame of it from his little brother, but he was surprised to find he doted on them both in equal measure.

He brought with him a littleneck clam shell this time, remembering distantly how interesting the ribbing on shells like these had been to his young, exploring mouth. Sobo was no longer nervous about approaching the den; he knew if he announced himself clearly, Erzulie would not react.

He did so with a gentle growling sound, then slid down on his belly in the entrance, where he found Quennell staring out at the light. Sobo relinquished his hold on the shell and nudged it forward for his brother's inspection, licking damp salt from his lips.

this man was familiar.

well, not familiar in the morphed vision of quennell, but familiar in his presence. perhaps the scent, perhaps the sound of his low growl.

the little brother would stare in wide eyed wonder at the man who blocked the sun. enamored with him entirely. although this feeling would exist forever, his attention did drift to the shell placed before him. an odd thing. ridged until the smoothness of most things he had felt so far.

with an almost hungry type of behavior, he tried to clamp his jaws around the side of it. slobbering as he brushed his tongue over the unfamiliar terrain of the sea son's gift.

quennell could only loudly babble with delight.

It was a delight each time he visited and witnessed how the cubs had grown and changed since the last. Sobo peered down at Quennell as his little brother peered back up at him, and for once prolonged eye contact didn't feel awkward or stifling. Then Quennell's attention on him waned and he turned to the shell instead.

Sobo took the opportunity to flop down in the entry, forming a curved barrier with his body between Quennell's play place and the outside world. Erzulie had said it would be several days still before they could hear his words and some time longer before they could understand them, yet still Sobo began to instruct.

Dis be de shell of a clam, he told Quennell, lifting a paw to ruffle his brother's adorable little head with roughened toes. Clams be dese weird little t'ings dat hide in de sand. Ya... You can see where dey be hidin' when dey spit water out. Someday, I will show you. He couldn't wait to take the tykes shell hunting on the beach. Maybe they would even find a jellyfish or a squid!

Dat taste like little stings on de tongue is de sea, he went on, laving his own tongue against the roof of his mouth and wrinkling his nose in exaggerated, cartoonish fashion. He hoped to make his brother smile. It not be tastin' very nice, yeah? De sea water make de drinker go loco. He let his tongue fall comically out the side of his muzzle and shook his head around like a madman. Dat is why Loko be called Loko. He be de craziet from drinkin' de water, but don't tell him I told you dat.

quennell not knowing what was being said did not stop him from further delight.

overstimulated, perhaps, with so many new things. the rumbling of his brother was a good, favorable sound. the feeling of the clam shell was too. the taste of it? mm, questionable.

and it was nothing more than comedic timing that he scrunched his face up when sobo spoke of loko. chanting a babbling string of ooOooO! over and over again. shell with its sour taste briefly abandoned so that he could worm his way closer to sobo's stomach, the one thing keeping him from the world beyond the den.

he could find amusement here, in the pale furs of his brother.

Manman says dat in de sea lives de lwa Agwé. He sees everyt’ing dat happens dere. Maybe it be his magic dat makes de water salty. What you be t’inkin’? Sobo knew Quennell would not respond, but he asked anyway, studying his brother for any indication of comprehension.

His brother seemed to grow disinterested in the shell. Sobo couldn’t blame him. They were interesting, but only for so long. Next time, maybe he would bring a real clam. It wouldn’t live long away from the water, but perhaps long enough to entertain his brother.

He chuckled throatily when Quennell reached his stomach. Dat tickles. Don’t t’ink I be lettin’ you by just because you be pokin’ and proddin’ like dat! He swung his muzzle around and lay his head down across his brother’s back, effectively pinning Quennell to the ground with a challenging rumble in his throat. Show me your strength, oui?

quennell tried his hardest to mimic the sounds his brother spoke to him. anaaaaanaa! he would chirp at first. followed by various levels of a sound like waaa!

quennell would have been deeply interested if he understood better.

as it stood now, he was more interested in the tussling that had started to occur. a muzzle on top of him was not an unfamiliar situation, the rumbling a welcomed sound too. like thunder from the storm cloud brother above.

the newest sea son thought he was very strong. in truth, his action to push back was more like squirming. uncoordinated limbs attempting to push under his own body with very little success. rumbling puppy yaps offered back.

i'll get you!

there was no distress, only deep satisfaction with a strong foe as his company.

Chuckles began to pour from Sobo's parted lips when he felt Quennell struggling beneath the weight of his muzzle. He was still a little too small and new to leave the den, but that didn't stop Sobo from grunting and slowly sliding his muzzle away as if he was using all his might to fight back against his brother, but simply wasn't strong enough to overcome.

Waugh! he responded when the boy yapped, feigning the reeling away of a strong right hook to the jaw. Too strong! Can't... Fight it! With a dramatic swoon, Sobo flopped over to his side and dropped his muzzle to the ground, freeing Quennell. With a twinkling eye, he gave a great gasp and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth, playing dead.

quennell already cherished these kinds of moments.

moments where we felt...big. strong. happy. warm. all of this combined to burst out of him in squeals of delight. it did not matter that his brother was 'dead' — he had won. however he didn't really understand the concept of death and so he needed to share this monumental moment with the tongue-stuck sobo!

uUUHHHH! he beamed, worming further against sobo's side.

quennell would not be much longer for this type of energy expending, but he seemed to already always have energy to boast.

Quennell was the type who continued to bully a body long after the blood cooled, Sobo thought. He played dead a little while longer, then let his lips curl in a mischievous grin. Waugh! he said, jolting up like a reanimated corpse and flailing in place so Quennell might find amusement in it.

He could tell when his brother's energy started to flag, and that was when he put an end to the game. Come, little shark, he said warmly, even you cannot fight forever. Time for a nap, dere. He tucked the boy in along Erzulie's stomach and Aminthe's round side, gave his mother a gentle tap on the muzzle in farewell, and departed to let someone else have a turn visiting.