Ravensblood Forest yon lanmè nwa

the pains had first showed themselves a handful of days prior. an experienced mother, mireille had not seen cause for concern or mention. they abated and did not intensify.
but through last sundown and into the morning, they had grown harsher, fierce with a pain that was not familiar.
not wishing to draw attention to herself, the proud woman continued to say nothing, until at last her legs began to buckle. it was @Chacal she sought first. "yon bagay mal fwa sa a," the scarlet wolf murmured, slipping into the shadows of the cove to lie beyond the pirates' sight, for now.
they had no healer that she could see, and she certainly did not want the hard-faced young captain and his mucky crew gathering to leer.
she shut her eyes, breathing through another twinge.

He followed. He couldn't help it. Hex was drawn to a woman with child, and when Mireille wandered off, quietly, he accompanied.

It was a quiet cove in which she sought solitude. Hex looked upon her, the twin golden orbs of his gaze stark against the dark. Then he came forward.

Are the babies coming? he asked the woman, remaining at a distance. What can I do to help?

A dark woman, writhing;

birthing a trio of pups destined for malcontent.

In the days following the surrender, Chacal had been forced to stay very still, paranoid that any sudden movement might open the wound, and cause her to bleed out. With every day that passed, she wondered if she should simply let it happen- but the movement of life within her reminded her that the decision wouldn't only end her life, but theirs, too.

She was attuned to her sister's plight as well. They had both birthed before, and had seen many births aside from their own. Still, neither had access to their usual resources and support. The stress of being held captive had no doubt worsened their condition, but even still, when Mireille spoke, Chacal sensed that she was in worse shape than what she let on.

She carefully followed her sister, aware that they were being followed. When he spoke, he was met with a flash of teeth, regardless of the softness of his tone. She felt the scabbing skin pull tight at her throat, but uttered a rumbling growl regardless of the fact that it caused a small, dark gleam of blood to emerge, glistening like a ruby.

Even if Mireille had not expressed her concern, he would not have been welcomed.

She turned to her sister, knowing their shared tongue might be the only way they could communicate without the stranger catching on. She kissed her sister's forehead tenderly, and placed herself at Mireille's side, before casting another glare toward the male, hoping he would catch the hint, and move away.

seething emerald conveyed what tight mouth could not. dragonfire flaring of nostrils bid to muted snorts came next. chacal's blood-scent in the dark frenzied her with rage and fear.
contortions hurtled after; she clung to the shadow of her looming sister, breathing out and refusing to let these hapless pirates hear a single note of her pain.
"mwen te di pitit fi ou a kouri lè ti bebe yo vini," mireille murmured, avoiding any mention of chani's name.
she cried out then, as much to terrify the boy into action as to voice her own anguish, though her screams would echo through forest and cove.
@Séraphine, first child born elsewhere in generations, and mireille wept bitter tears over this, shaking as new pains demanded a higher level of volume.
small pale pup, placed to her breast.
chani must escape. she must get away.

A child born in the form of angelic dove, placed to her mother's breast in the wet and muck of a home that was not their own.

Squeaking, squealing, unaware.

Arriving to a world which for the time being was her own, Seraphine squirmed into the warmth of Mireille's fur. She was quick to settle, easy to fall into a calm state. It would be a few hours until she would first feed, and so for now she rested.

lè yo vini. chwazi moman sa a.
mireille had said this to her, and now her aunt lay wailing, crying out. it struck true fear to chani's heart; she scrambled backward, trying to think of what to do. how to accomplish what mireille had said while not feeling as if she was abandoning her family.
the pirates; the pirates. they needed to be here. she saw the man who had offered food on many occasions, taking a breath before she said in panic; "call for de ot'ers! any healin' you have, bring it!"

She tried to hush her sister’s cries, so she might not draw too much attention, only to realize when Chani sang out, calling for aid, that opportunity had come. She looked to her daughter with sad, tired eyes. Tears gathered, and fell when she locked eyes with Chani, and gave a faint nod.

In the wake of Séraphine’s birth, a new voice would raise and split through the moans and gasps of her sister as she whelped. She felt the pressure deep within her build, to ripple the muscles of her abdomen. She cried out, as her own labour began.

He was met with hostility, which he expected—though it came from the other woman who had followed. Hex backed down immediately, catching sight of her scarred throat, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood.

More blood would soon follow.

He had intended to stand upon the path between the main forest and the cove, protecting the mothers from lecherous sorts like @Crowell. But then the younger one came, with an anxious request for him—

Call for the others.

He felt as if he'd swallowed a bone, whole. He tried to speak, but the words would not come out. He did not trust the pirates, not around these women, newborn children. . .

But if that was what they wished, he would oblige.

Hex howled, voice hoarse and strangled, for @Meredith and the rest. Even before his cry had faded into the trees, he turned and prepared to offer help—while keeping a respectful distance from now two mothers in labor.

shadowposted, some edits

oops! shadowposted

Distant cries had the Captain slink through the woods until he came upon a grisly scene. Both the flanks of the red bitch and the darkling rippled eerily, and as a slimy, squalling thing emerged from the mass of bodies, he realised what was going on. 

For a long moment he stood unmoving at the edge of the gathering, chest tightening in something akin to fear. He remembered the crow's words, and felt woefully unprepared. They weren't his kids! But they were being born on his soil, and by proxy that made him some sort of estranged father figure, whether he liked it or not. "Don' let 'em die," he hissed in the direction of Hex as the man let loose a call for the others, and paced impatiently at the fringes.

His eyes sought Meredith. She was a woman. She would know what to do.

meredith had seen a lotta things—men gutted on decks, guts spilling like eels; storms that split the sky in two; her own blood soaked into sand she couldn’t name. but this? this weren’t nothin’ she’d ever trained for. weren’t in any sailor’s bible, neither.

her eyes were wide as moons, fixed on the squirming, wet thing that had just slithered into the world like a curse. another cry followed, sharp and high, and she flinched like she’d been struck.

fuck, she breathed, barely more than a whisper. fuckin’—fuck.

she crouched low, hovering over the laboring bitch like she might catch a blade at any moment. blood pooled, steam rose. gods, it stank. she didn’t know what part to touch, what part to leave. was it alive? was it supposed to be that color? her throat worked around nothing.

i’m just a fuckin’ girl, she muttered, desperate and trembling. i don’t know what i’m doin’.

but still, her paws moved—clumsy but tryin’. clearing slime from a nose. nosing it close to its dam. coaxin’. hopin’. prayin’, maybe, even if she didn’t know the words.

run, chani.
mireille registered little. pain wreathed through her, exacerbated by the chaos of her surroundings. fear rose in a gluttonous serpent, choking at her sense of self and space.
the obsidian vibrated with anger and sorrow, with anguish and a hateful boiling bellow that forced its way out of her lips and announced the birth of @Bastean.
it was unfair! it was unfair that these babes should not first taste sea air and be surrounded by the women of their family, by the generations that shaped sapphique — she would never allow them to forget who they were and from where they had come.

One child, then two. Unlike the other pirates, who either seemed mystified or repulsed by the scene, he was drawn to it. The air rose up, heady and fetid, and he couldn't stop looking at the newborns, drawn to their mother's breast.

Meredith was working, helping the little ones. He didn't dare come close. It wasn't his place.

Instead, he moved to block the path again—Crowell hadn't come forward yet, and he wanted to keep the lech as far away as possible.

Except—

Where had the younger captive gone?

Into a world he would never inherit, Bastean was born. 

Like any other he made his debut, though perhaps with more tension and drama than some. Nothing unusual took place- not from the child who learned quickly how to breathe, and was ushered toward warmth, food. He learned how to suckle after several failed attempts, made little cries that would get him attention when it was needed and exercise his lungs. It was exhausting for him, but to any others who took note of the little child at all, his debut was completely unremarkable. 

Save, of course, for the fact that he was born into a pack that had kidnapped his mother. 

Life would become interesting- later. But there was time for that.

pain. pain overtook fear, overtook all. 
mireille's mouth widened again in a cry, the contractions pulsing in hard crushes; she gasped and writhed, and thought surely;
oh
agony! blood! the obsidian screamed to her mothers' lwa and bore down.
another child, little @Veniel, born beneath the tremulousness of mireille's wavering plea.
run! run, chani! run!
and now — now the red woman drifted beneath the halo of her pain.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: gore, infant loss

Her flanks quivered with each contraction. She reminded herself to breathe through them, but the waves of pain were that of a cruel and angry sea through which the siren would not find safe passage. Her sister recoiled and slithered beside her like a snake, with each effort bringing forth new life; but like a serpent charmer Chacal was there to kiss her heavenly auburn brow, bathe the children, and nestle them against their mother's breast.

She warded off the frustrated would-be nurse-maid, Meredith, whose well-intended actions were not those of a skilled midwife. Though she battled against her own pain, she would see to her sister first- and while Mireille languished, the shuddering of muscles in her flank heralded a struggle that was not yet over. Gently, she reached to jostle her sister, hoping to rouse her spirit for a final effort.

She gasped as a bolt of pain hit her deep within her pelvis.

Her sister faded from view. All the world darkened until she was alone, save for a soft light, akin to candleflame. Beneath her was stone, slick and dark. With blood? No, sea water. Sea water all around.

The Thoughtstone.

She could smell green, Spring earth on the air. She heard the flitting of little birds, the sweet chatter of swallows as they danced and swooped somewhere above her in the darkness. She looked down at her feet, to the soft bed of moss that had begun to creep over the stone, and when she looked up, a great horned owl reached out its talons, spread its wings, and landed at the edge of the stone.

Its eyes were black, but transfixed upon Chacal, who remained wordless. A spray of salt-water made her blink- and instantly, the owl became a towering, black wolf with the same dark eyes as the owl.

"Pa Pè," ("Fear not.") came a reassuring voice, and she felt her fear drain like water from a basin. In the distance, she thought she heard the murmur of childspeak- murmurs and whimpers from Mireille's children. As she looked at the man, she realized not only did she hold no disdain for him, but she recognized his face.

Brise.

The lwa of hills, the guardian of children. His gaze roamed past her- back toward reality where three children nursed at her sister's side. A warm smile appeared on his face, but a light whimper from Chacal brought those black eyes back to her, and filled them with concern.

She found both her voice, and her words.

Silvouplè- pran pa m.("Please, take mine.") He began to shake his head. "Mwen sipliye ou-" ("I beg you-") He paused, his lips pulling to a thin line. "Mwen pa vle yo fèt nan mond sa a." ("I do not want them born into this world.") She felt her heart break, but she herself did not. "Pa isit la." ("Not here.")

Not here. Not where they would be captives, raised as slaves. Not where they would see their mother, their aunt, bend, bow their heads, and break.

She closed her eyes, and felt warmth sweep over her, a fever rising that would burn, and simultaneously silence all the flame within her. She heard the sound of childrenspeak again- opened her eyes to see a pair of beautiful twins trotting across the water's surface, alongside Brise.

Away, past where the tides ended, they disappeared into the mist.

The wailing she heard when light returned and illuminated the cavern was hers, and hers only. No song would come from the pair of children she birthed, only silence. They would not know the sorrow of their mother's voice, and while she was relieved that they would be spared the harrowing life of a prisoner, she grieved her loss all the same and clutched them close so they might at least share her warmth one last time.

Just gonna drop this here after that :o

Veniel joined the world. Cold earth welcomed him as he experienced a new emotion: discontent. Tiny wails filled the air as he wanted, but for what, he did not know. Everything was different, now—wrong. 

Little head surveyed with eyes glued shut, seeking, unsure and wobbly.

hope this is all right, last birth post, can be final for mireille in this thread <3

something changed in the world as that second son was born. mireille lay back in exhaustion, seizing draughts of breath as her aching body throbbed with higher and higher pain. until her voice too was sounding in small strangled whimpers.
they had been thieved of peace, her little ones. but not only they, her sister.
chacal gasped.
her sister reached, clutching; "respire, chacal; lespri yo isit la," trying not to cry as she shoved her reassuring, bloodstained palm in the tanzanite's direction.
mireille disappeared under a new wave of pain, resurfacing to see the tension in her sister's flanks; she tried to drag herself closer, but surrendered to swelling crush.
sweet @Orélie, born last into the welter of chaos and horror which had marked this birth.
mireille tried to put her trembling arms around chacal, pulled in a thousand directions as her strong mind threatened a fracture.