Hushed Willows [m] ☀

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Childbirth!

Tentatively all welcome. Tagged characters are invited. Powerplaying characters already present from the last thread. If you can't make it and would like to be powerplayed in, message me! The next round will be posted March 2nd.

The hours blurred together. Those outside the den were all but forgotten. The night had taken so much from Reverie already; she bled intermittently, caught in a fresh wave of painful spasms every hour. They came more quickly now. Whatever steadiness she'd held fast to in the beginning was gone, but she did not mourn the loss. Between her cries, she thought only of her son.

Her son. She'd buried him herself, just outside the den, under @Kukutux's watchful gaze. A shallow grave was all she'd been able to give him, an upturned patch of dirt scattered with her blood. Even that had taken so much of her strength.

Now she lay tucked in the corner of her den, breathing heavily. The pelts were piled in the opposite corner, slick with blood and unwanted in this moment. Reverie felt her body tighten again. A wavering cry spilled from her, lifting to a shriek. I - I can't do this, I can't, She reached blindly for Kukutux, sobbing, as she had done so many times in the hours before. And as she had each time before, she quieted quickly; one moment desolate, the next determined. I want - Her words broke into a gasp, but she steadied her voice. I want @Boone and - and @Everett. I asked them to - to be here. Her body felt crushed by some immeasurable weight; breathless, her words fell away.

A shifting, then; something she felt but could not put to words, and she knew with a petrified certainty that she would soon bring forth another child. Reverie thought again of her son. Her son, gone before he drew his first breath.

Another contraction gripped her, and she could not bite back her cry.

The minutes turned into hours, the night giving way to day. The den had grown restless, filling with a sadness for the early life lost. A little boy. Reverie and Boone’s first son born sleeping. The pain of the loss was written on the Coach’s face, Reina’s own heart breaking for the babe who would never wake. 

But, it appeared that it was not over, that there was more to come. The Coach had spoken her need of Boone’s presence, her brother’s, too. Reina would surely not protest at the calming presence brought by Everett. There it was again, that selfishness; she did all she could not to scoff, to show her displeasure that Reverie did not call for her. It would do no good, Reina decided, it was a wasteful emotion. Her Coach did not deserve it. It was her delusions, her fantasy. No one else’s.

Instead, she braced herself against her Angel’s back, giving her support, the cry of pain rattling her bones. She would do anything for Reverie, whatever it took to get the golden lady through this. It wouldn’t be realized later that the angel did not call for her because the red woman had been there, from the start, as she promised.

Posting to get her in, but PP her supporting Rev and giving way to Boone/Everett should they arrive!

"your husband has gone for medicine," kukutux murmured to the stressed young mother. it was gravely important to keep reverie calm, and so she stayed inside the den, holding the golden sparrow.

"aya, my bird, you are not alone." even if the men did not come she would not be alone.

pulling away gently, she encouraged reina to place her own paw upon the tightening sides, offering a massage between contractions. "smooth down toward her hips, yes. like that. there is much pain and an aching. your touch will help."

quietly she went to the denmouth, asking nasamiituuq to run and look for the man boone. he should have been back by now. on her way, she could also seek everett.

long minutes passed. reverie labored.

the word brought back was dark. surprising. boone was not in hearthwood, and blood marked the borders.

the moonmother did not see how it would be better for reverie to know this at such a precarious moment. she sent the girl to @Minnow, @Faele, and @Tuft, asking the sister of valiant to quietly search for the hearthwood man with these others, to go beyond the willows if need be. he must be found.

she turned back to reverie then. "lean back against reina, kiaranatuuk," she urged in a singing, gentle voice. "your children will soon join us, yes?" smile given as she spoke, crouching down between reverie's legs in close readiness to intervene if there was something wrong.

He was never far from Reverie; he filled the empty spaces Boone had left, in the ways appropriate for a brother. Everett had been a quiet presence while Reverie had discovered the stillbirth of her son. He had allowed her space to bury the child with Kukutux by her side; a moment only for women's eyes - but he had never been far.

Now, from within the den, Reverie cried -

but he did not enter until Nasamiituuq emerged with his name on her lips. Only then did Everett slip into the shadows, quick on golden paws, like the sunrise rushing to break the night.

Blood and sweat stained the air, sweet and warm and sickly so, but his eyes were for Reverie and he would fall in alongside her to support her as he could. Casting a thankful glance to Reina, and to Kukutux, who had been with her all the way. Whispering soft songs to her in those spaces he felt her courage slip. Offering his shoulder, his touch, in the silence of those moments in between. What she needed, he would become; what she needed, he already became.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Birth!

Gone for medicine. For hours? Hours? How long had it been since she'd buried their son alone? How long since that first scream pierced through the willows?

And she had not seen his face, had not heard him speak. Reverie could not give voice to these grievances. All of her effort was for each breath drawn, each moment crawled through like dragging herself over shards of glass and burning coals. He was not here.

But she was not alone. She leaned against Reina as she was bid. Your children will soon join us, yes? Reverie tried to nod. Her eyes closed just for a moment. When she opened them next, he was there. Not Boone, no — Everett. Her brother, the only brother she still carried in her heart. The only one who had never made a promise to her that he could not keep in the end. He was there. She felt his touch at her shoulder and a sudden lifting of the weight pressing down upon her; she heard his voice and a great quieting of the rush of blood in her ears.

It was time.

And for a moment she was overwhelmed with so many thoughts.

Boone should be here, and these children are his, and I did this for him. For him. All her life spent searching for something higher than herself, always reaching for certainty and safety that she would never truly have; someone worth her purest golden devotion. And she'd been so proud to be his wife, so ready to give all of herself now that she had finally, finally found it.

All of it was lost beneath the blood. Blood soaking so deeply that the stain would never come clean. But she thought she understood now what the witch had tried to tell her that day by the sea. What she had meant to give her. Gilded feathers flashed at the corners of her vision.

I am my own god,

She reached blindly for Everett. She pulled him close, buried her face against his chest as her wails rose to one long, piercing scream.

and I give life.

...

@Dahlia.

Neither of us will ever remember those first moments; the way I held you to my chest, sobbing, and the way you screamed your life to the heavens as if to say that they would never silence you. You were the dawn rising over the darkest night. You will always be the sun. And one day you will learn that the brightest light always burns.

@Foxglove.

One day I'll say that I knew from the first that you were far too much like me. A little golden bolt of lightning, a flash of fire and blood. But I'll never tell the story of how I nearly died then, how you took so much of me that I scarcely knew myself. I hope those who saw it remember instead how I cradled you as the world slipped away from me.

@Petal.

I will always see your father when I look at you. Those who never knew him will only see the golden eyes we share, the flaxen tone of your fur. But the steady beat of your heart could only have come from him, the quiet way you slipped into my life where I had seen nothing but an end. You were so, so quiet. You were the stars emerging into the night; a whispered reminder that the light never truly leaves.

...

Three little lights blinked into the world, and in their wake left a flame flickering slowly to nothing. As her last daughter was born, Reverie went slack. Her breaths came fast and shallow. Too much blood, too many hours spent struggling in this den; nothing would wake her now.

Reverie was somewhere far away, dreaming. She dreamt that she was standing at the top of the world, and the sun was warm across her shoulders.

"You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world."

A little golden bolt of lightning; a flash of fire and blood. All at once, she was.

So little of the world was revealed to her now. The sights and sounds and smells, those would come later. She knew none of it. The first thing Foxglove knew was touch — the touch of her mother, the touch of cool dirt, the touch of her sisters' warmth.

It was not enough. The little blonde pup strained against it all, reaching for more with little huffs and squeaks until she found herself quite exhausted. For all her stubborn will, she was still only a pup, newly born and fragile.

She fell into a restless sleep, head already filled with dreams of the future and all that she would reach for and grasp one day.

Petal was born.