Deepwood Weald over men’s noses as they lie asleep

@Nocturnal ?

Tonight, she seeks out the young woman who she met at the borders the day of her arrival, for it is her scent that has carried around the forest, pungent and warm. Megara feels only a twinge of jealousy; she is mostly happy that her childbearing days are behind her. Now, she can sit back and enjoy the fun, with no consequences at all to her body.

Nyx's journey has only just begun, she senses. The girl is quite young, young enough for this to be her first litter. Megara remembers well the first time she whelped. It was exhilarating and terrifying, humbling, daunting, joyful, bittersweet. . .and even these words fail to describe what a first-time mother feels.

If Nyx has consummated this heat—hopefully, Megara thinks, with Meldresi's son, whom the rogue has seen her with before—then pups are coming to Deepwood Weald. It will be a glorious time.

Now, how to convince Midar to bring a lady into his life? Perhaps an errand for another day.

Her heat had settled and finally she was free to be around the rest of the pack again. Not that she wished to get away from Damien, far from it actually. Their days of intimacy had been her favourite in recent memory, but the aftermath would give them even greater joy - so she thought. The pups she would bear would carry on the legacy of the Melonii bloodline, but still she was afraid she wasn't enough for the honor. Damien had picked her, yes, but the more Meloniis joined their cause, the more her value would drop among them. She was barely an Apaata, barely anyone. If her kids would remember and tell their kids and so on it would be a miracle.

The consort was minding her own business when she came across Megara and she waved her tail in greeting upon spotting her. How jealous she was of the old woman's blue tinted coat and vibrant indigo eyes.

Finally, she comes across the girl she seeks. Nyx, Megara greets, meeting the Consort halfway. Mephala be with you this evening. How are you? Her eyes drift across the slender arch of the younger woman's ribs, then back to her face, a silent query. Slender now, perhaps, but with time—and good fortune—she will swell with pups. Yes?

The old rogue settles back on her haunches with a small sigh, waiting for the other's response. The moonlight ripples over her raven's-wing pelt, turning it almost blue in the lunar glow; the scars that criss-cross in various places are a stark silver in contrast.

If Nyx envies her color and gaze, Megara envies the girl's youth. Ah, to be young and (relatively) unblemished again. . .

She wondered if the old woman looked and acted anything like her sister. Meldresi meant a great deal to the Blackfeather wolves but Nyx had been born too late to meet her. She didn't hear much about Damien's father, didn't even know his name, so she presumed he was dead too. Megara. she greeted formally, not sure how to act. They weren't friends, right?

To be very honest, I have been feeling a bit strange. She answered honestly, seeing no reason to lie to their own wolves. A bit dizzy. Is that normal for..- For a maybe pregnant woman? She wasn't sure if Damien wanted to keep it a secret but if so she had already let the cat out of the bag. Not to mention that they were both gone for about a week or so while the smell of her heat hung in the air. Yes, surely everyone knew what they had been up to, but it was too late now to finish her sentence for at least 5 seconds had passed already.

Her mouth spreads wide in a grin. Yes, she answers the girl's unspoken question. It is. Pray that it is what we all hope for. Nyx most of all, probably. There is always a possibility that the sickness is an anomaly, or that the seed does not take, so Megara does not praise the gods quite yet. But for now, it seems promising.

The woman lifts her chin, surveying Nyx with no lack of warmth in her face. Walk with me, dear, she coaxes, beginning to pad along a well-worn forest trail and holding her pace back until her companion catches up. She is used to leaving others behind with a quick pace (though she is slower now than she used to be, for sure).

Tell me about yourself, Nyx, Megara says, smiling over at the girl. With those eyes, those silver spangles, it is clear she is no Melonii—or worse, that she is some corrupted version. So she must be from another family. From what stock does her dear nephew's consort come?

"What we all hope for"... Did that mean the others were expecting her to give birth too? She hadn't thought about how the coming of their children would affect the pack, but pups were an exciting concept for most she thought. Of course they would want Damien to have children, be it with her or another woman. Or perhaps she was thinking about it too much. Still, she flashed a quick smile in thanks.

Nyx followed, padding alongside the older woman with her tail hovering just slightly above hers. Her ears slid back in embarrassment then, not very fond of telling others where she came from and how her life had turned out. Well, I am no Melonii. Megara had probably already figured that one out. I do come from Meldresi's pack though, but I was born after her passing. I've known Damien my whole life. Although he disappeared on me a few times. I am a Blackfeather-Apaata mix, three siblings, all boys, and some I have never met. She didn't want to tell Megara about how neither parent really looked out for her and that Damien was more the one who had actually raised her from her perspective, thinking it might cause their mateship to be viewed as inappropriate. She didn't think of him as her father or anything, but he had taught her everything and given her the attention she had never gotten as a child.

Damien and I only recently admitted our feelings for each other, but they have been there for a long time. Too long, actually. It was like they had always been together.

Megara nods to Nyx's answer, no malice in her face. As fond as she is of the Melonii bloodline, she knows that too much of it can sometimes be a terrible thing. It can do with some dilution, every so often. This girl is faithful, and she assumes devoted to the daedra. And it is clear she is in love with Damien, and he with her. Megara cannot ask for much more.

I believe you, she answers, her expression very warm. I see it in your faces. You two were made for each other, and your pups will be blessed.

Assumes, but is not sure. She ought to find out, sooner rather than later. The Night Mother. Do you follow her? Sithis, too, and the others? How can she not, growing up in Meldresi's pack? And yet, perhaps her parents had given her their own wisdom and traditions.

Made for each other huh? She guessed her mother was right about something then, marrying her off as a wee babe to the then much older Damien. She wondered if things would be different had she not stayed around Blackfeather Woods - had run off someplace else to live in peace. Could she belong anywhere else than with the Meloniis? Probably not. She believed in destiny, and if this wasn't her path she would've gone off it by now.

I know them. Their stories - Damien told a lot of them when I was younger, but I am not an expert. She answered honestly. She liked to believe in things she could see, like her future children and Damien's love for her. She wasn't sure if she shared the same beliefs as them, but she was sure she believed in something.

The answer is carefully-given, but not satisfactory, in her eyes. Megara had asked if she follows the daedra, not if she knows of them. Surely any child raised within the culture knew the bare minimum? Still, she offers the young woman an encouraging smile, dipping her muzzle in acknowledgement.

I am glad you were taught the stories, at least, the crone answers. More wisdom can come in time, if you so choose. I am not the priestess my sister was, but I know enough—enough to help a daughter of the Night Mother learn, at least. Her brows raise in query. Will Nyx take the proferred olive branch?

She is unsure whether or not she can be happy with a child of Meldresi's siring children with one who refuses to submit to the daedra.

Perhaps she'd feel more like family if she did indeed learn about their religion. She knew bits and pieces already, but she was just a simple Apaata/Blackfeather mix and had not been raised with it. Besides, she'd have to raise her kids the Melonii way, not her own way.

Please, do teach me. It wasn't a desperate call for help, more a determined statement that she was open to learn. She'd probably never become a priestess herself, but perhaps one of her hatchlings would want to become one.

fade this out since it's oooolllld?

At least she seems willing to learn. That, Megara can work with. Of course, Nyx, she responds kindly. I will do my best. I only wish my sister was here to teach you, as well. As do they all, she supposes. There was no one like Meldresi. There never would be again.

So you are familiar with the Night Mother and Sithis, but do you know the lesser daedra? the crone asks. She begins to walk again, beckoning for the girl to follow. Azura, Boethiah, Clavicus Vile. . . Less powerful they may be, but their lore is still quite important to know.

They move along for a while, talking of the old religion, until they inevitably part somewhere along the way. Megara, at least, feels a little better about her niece-in-law's place within the Melonii.