Totoka River in your room

For @Seastorm

Hokulani returned home from her trip feeling quite different from when she left. Already she had a feeling of what it was, but until she began to show, why pay it any mind?

Lifting her chin to call for Storm, she was interrupted when bile erupted into her throat. Hokulani nearly choked before vomiting straight onto her border line.

Great. Welcome home, chieftess.

Storm was at the borders, of course. She spent nearly every waking hour obsessing over her work, trying to drown out any capacity for thought. It didn't work. But she kept trying anyway. Anything was better than sitting around and stewing in her grief.

It was a welcome diversion, then, when she spotted Hokulani at the borders. Storm noticed immediately that she was bent oddly; the sour scent of bile hit her next. She closed the distance with quick strides, halting near Hokulani's flank.

You're sick. Her voice was flat.

I'm pregnant. She responded after a groan.

Hokulani shook the shock of vomiting from her muscles, standing up straighter. I hope you've kept things up here, after all this is your fault. Despite the absurdity of her claim, Hokulani was straight-faced as ever. Any passing birds would have thought Storm put the woman out mid-heat and said "go! run free!" or somehow sired the children.

All she wanted now was a meal. Her throat felt raw after being sick, but the parasites growing inside demanded to be fed.. as well as Hokulani's stomach. Mostly Hokulani's stomach.

Her fault?

She blinked. Her fault... but they hadn't... had they? Storm suddenly wasn't sure. I - She clamped her mouth shut, ears pulled fully forward, tail stilled at her hocks. We -

Storm blinked again, all her thoughts cracking and crumbling into dust. She had nothing. After a few moments she remembered how to breathe, and sucked in a deep, deep breath before finally saying: Well. Shit.

Hokulani couldn't help laughing at her reaction.

Thanks, Storm. That made me feel a lot better. Though she was concerned of whether Storm had believed her or if she was just playing along.

Beginning her usual trot into the territory, she was already bee-lining to the centre where a cache usually sat. Have you been hunting? I'm totally starving. She didn't hold back from exaggerations despite her previous concerns. We should eat something together.

It wasn't uncommon for Hokulani to get attached, but she really had missed Seastorm's company. Men were.. tiring, to say the least. Far more irritating.

She didn't move. Not at first. Storm only stood there for several long, painful seconds, her maw slightly parted as if she meant to speak. Children. Hokulani was going to have children, and they would be hers too.

Her children.

Hunting? I - yes, she managed a little weakly, starting forward. She buried her muzzle into the fur at Hokulani's shoulder, nosing along her flank as if to check for wounds. She found nothing. But it made her feel a little better to check. Nothing had changed yet.

But everything would change soon.

This way, Storm murmured, pressing with her nose to guide Hokulani in the right direction. Children. Her children. The world wasn't a kind place for children; if she knew anything at all for a certainty, it was that. She hovered over Hokulani as they walked, never letting the woman stray too far from her flank.

If they're mine, then so are you, she decided aloud, blue eyes finding Hokulani's face as she spoke. It wasn't a question — but she looked for agreement all the same.

Hokulani got her answer. Seastorm had taken her seriously. Are you saying we should marry?

She couldn't help how her tail swayed, though this hadn't quite been her plan. You know I would have to ask you to commit to my culture, or the naming system at the very least. The naming system! An absolute pain in the ass, but the most recognizeable piece of Coastal Spiritualism. Every family reunion got to be a tongue twister.

She did have to wonder how it would work when two women were mates. Hokulani supposed that this time the suffixes would come from her and her father, and if Storm ever had her children the outsider rules would be followed. Could 'Storm' be split into two halves? -Orm?

Maybe she was getting a bit too ahead of herself.

Assassins don't marry. The answer was reflexive, ingrained. Seastorm paused, blinking once as she briefly reconsidered. I guess I'm not that anymore, she relented after a moment. But — I don't know.

At the Glass Cove, sometimes a pair might... partner with one another, Seastorm went on hesitantly, tail lashing like a discontent cat. It is a contract of a sort. Live together, kill together - until death takes one or both. Almost like marriage. But at the Glass Cove, things like procreation were never an individual's own choice.

I can't give up my name, though, she added more firmly. I earned it. With my first kill.

Hokulani frowned. That sounds completely unromantic. She huffed, stopping to dig up a cache of meat. We aren't on Glass Cove, so why not just marry me? Hokulani looked back at Storm, unless you just don't like me.

When it came to Storm's insistence on keeping her name, Hokulani shook her head. You don't give up your name. You'll get a ceremonial one sooner or later, but it's just that. Ceremonial. She explained, I have one, Noe I ka Lani Kakakhiaka, Mist in the Morning Sky. She had always found pride in it. Her father had given it to her, and it was one of the few good moments with him that she remembered. Coastal Spiritualists give it to four month old children to celebrate survival, or adults who join up after they finish the trials. It's meant to be used for celebrations, other than that we don't use them.

No, the naming system is more of a pain with children. She clicked her tongue, The girls will take my suffix, lani, and the boys will use mele, my fathers. Usually it would be the suffix of the sire, but rules say he has to be present. It could be limiting, but since they didn't use surnames it was how family ties recognised each other. You're an outsider so rules are different for you. If you had pups, it would be up to you if you split your name into two halves. The girls would still take your suffix if you did, or you would give them outsider names. Boys would depend on the sire.

Mist in the Morning Sky. It almost sounded like a name from the Glass Cove, but softer in a way. Prettier. Okay, Storm said quietly, a frown knitting her brow as she considered all that Hokulani had said. I could split my name. My full name - it's Storm Rising on the Eastern Sea.

But the pups are mine too. Wouldn't some of them share my name? She was confused by that, by the talk of sires. No one had exactly prioritized discussing family structures with the apprentices at Glass Cove.

Only if you want to. She insisted, her stare firm.

Nah, but it isn't the name that makes them yours. If you have children they won't take suffixes from me, but I'll still think of them as mine. The name was a tradition, not a birth certificate. What will make the ours is the rest of the bullshit that binds them to us - honour and all that.

Hokulani yawned, shaking out her fur. I'd like to rest. She decided. Will you lay down with me?

Her frown deepened, confusion written all over her features. If I have children? She echoed faintly. But isn't this... Storm swallowed and cut off as Hokulani voiced her invitation.

She let out a breath. ... yeah, she agreed after a moment, but her lowered ears said that at least some of her thoughts were still stuck on their conversation. She couldn't exactly say no to an invitation like that, though. She wasn't totally dumb.