Blacktail Deer Plateau i’ve waited for you all my life

If Cupid could go back and time and watch himself complain about his sickness, he'd laugh. The nausea he felt then was nothing compared to how he felt now. It fucking sucked then, but at least he could say he could move. He couldn't lift a paw without wanting to puke now. Was that normal? Probably. He has learned that suffering is a normal pregnancy thing. 

Cupid couldn't catch a break. He knew these babies would pop out sooner or later, and he wasn't cool with giving birth under a tree. So, reluctantly, he pushes himself up with a grunt and shuffles through the plateau. There had to be a more suitable den somewhere.

Three weeks. Time was ticking and Rosencrantz had not forgotten his threat, and promise to come hunt down the pregnant female. Leaving his station on the borders of Rusalka, he set his eye on another goal, a different target but something just as important. He followed the scent of the heavily pregant Cupid, following behind him just far enough to be seen, but not close enough to be hovering over their shoulder... the birth had not happened yet, but it should be any day now by the look of their belly...

Silently he prowled behind the dark individual... patiently shadowing their every move.

Cupid slowly made his way through the trees, sniffing at any interesting indent in bolders and trees. Silence fell, and he got more and more wary with each step. He felt like someone was out here with him, and yet he did not so much as glance over his shoulder. Delusion, he thought, must be the source of this feeling.

But it wasn't a figment of his imagination. Someone was there, following him. Cupid could not dismiss the occasional rustling any longer. He spun around, and behind him stood the one eyed man.

Discomfort and embarrassment rose in his throat when he saw him, for he was the only one to witness the worst of Cupid. You're here. This time there is no glee or anger in his voice. It's quiet.

Eventually he was spotted. Those hairs in the back of their neck must have notified them of his presence, that something was stalking them at a distance. He was not disuaded by being discovered. Instead, he continued his approach until they were close enough to speak comfortably. The expecting mother spoke with a neutral tone, and in turn, so did Rose.

Yes. As promised. His tone was hushed but loud, commanding to be heard and yet oddly gentle. Like the quiet before the storm he watched Cupid carefully with that ever watchful, single, eye. Did they think he would not follow through? That maybe he would forget his promise to rip away that child of theirs as soon as they breathed air?

He had every intention of killing Cupid today if necessary.

For the child's sake.

Cupid felt guilty and he knew exactly why. The brute knew the dark thoughts that had been within him. They were pushed into the depths of his mind now, layered by a hope that maybe—just maybe—he'd rewrite the baby's fate along with his. But the man did not know, and Cupid felt too guilty to tell him. He wouldn't believe him if he said anything, he'd just have to try and show him.

So you can help me instead of stalking me. Cupid turned around, keeping an eye on the man for as long as he could, before looking forward. He shuffled on forward again, not waiting for a response.

That one eye narrowed as he listened to the words uttered by the wolf he could only see as a pathetic waste of flesh. A toxic sack holding something so precious that they weren't even aware. He had no choice but to follow Cupid, his glare alone questioned why the fuck should the Delta help them?

For now, he kept his maw shut. Quietly following along until told to do something... and of course he would question whatever the fuck it was, unless it seemed reasonable enough. If the individual ever had second thoughts on Rosencrantz's ability to follow through, he would be certain to prove that bitch wrong as fast as physically possible.

But what could he do to prove he was trying? Everything was already laid out on the table with them; he knew Cupid would make a terrible parent. So did he. The brute harbored all of his anxieties; he's a nightmare on legs, following him now. 

I'm not killing them. See? I can be good. Cupid swallowed, then sniffed around a tree. He still refused to face him.

Liar. He accused with no second thought, no delay in his word as he spat it fourth toward the swollen individual. It was all a facade in order to save his own skin, this soon-to-be parent was about to burst and realized that Rosencrantz's threat was a little more than a mere empty threat. You're a coward looking to save your own skin. The words came tumbling out of his maw in a rumble, a growl gently tickling his vocals as he eyeballed Cupid with nothing but disdain. 

If it comes out deformed or sick, I'm killing you.

Liar. The word pierces through his chest. Maybe the brute was right. Maybe he lulled himself into this false sense of security in order to hide the truth. Maybe the sight of his children slowly dying with him would hurt more than it would have, because he had been foolish enough to think he could change. Cupid shook his head. He couldn't let those thoughts drag him down now.

Haven't we already established that I wouldn't give a shit if you killed me? He fell silent, moving along through the trees, staring at anything that could pass as a den. Nothing was suitable.

Then lay down and let me rip them out. His tone was serious, honest, and unholly in its darkness. Encroaching on Cupid's personal space, he threatened to swallow the smaller wolf whole under his pressure and stare. It didn't cross his mind that maybe the Alpha and Betas would be against all of this, how Rosencrantz, their Delta, was treating a new and pregnant packmate. It was a wonder they didn't already approach him since his last little encounter with the new Rusalkan - perhaps they had indeed kept that meeting to themselves rather than cry to the higher ups... 

that alone would give Rosencrantz a little respect for the bloated bloak.

He couldn't ignore the threat. Cupid spun around and glared up at one eye. He didn't care if he lived or died, but his desires didn't matter anymore. He needed to live, because how else would he be able to try to give his children a better life than his mother did?

So what happens after you kill me? You gonna watch them starve to death? Last time I checked, there ain't anyone else around here to feed them. You ever think about that, smart guy? He turned around and began walking again.

As the darker of the two turned to see eye to eyes with the snow backed behemoth, Rosencrantz snapped, teeth clashing and popped as he bit at the empty air between them. He was a caged dog just waiting to be released into the ring, eager to dig in as trained. It's the season - you aren't the only one pregnant. I'll find someone willing. His tone was sure, but deep within himself he knew it would be an uphill struggle. 

You'll poison them with your milk. Obviously the paladin had little faith that Cupid could stay sobber long enough to wean the little ones safely without destroying their organs with toxic plants. So to him, their fate was among two things; a long, slow, painful death through poison given to them by this one, or, a risky chance, to last just long enough for him to run and deliver them to a milking female. He followed at Cupid's heels the moment they turned to continue.

There was the possibility that someone here could be pregnant, but he doubted they were just as pregnant as him. It was only a matter of time before these puppies came; he doubted the brute would find someone to feed them by the time they arrived. But Cupid didn't say any of this, because he knew it'd be futile.

Or the milk will be just fine. But what if it was too late? What if the milk was already poisoned from that day by the river? Again, he suppressed the thought. He had to have a little faith.

After a few minutes of walking, he spotted a larger hole in the ground. He approached it, peered in, sniffed at it. It's small and vacant, a perfect size for him. For awhile he just stared into it.

You sound like you've done this all before. Suddenly he looked at the man. You ever have kids?

With a curt snort he dismissed Curpid's argument that the milk would be fine. He didn't have to verbalize and continue arguing with him, would be a waste of breath for them both. 

His glare continued as he waited behind Cupid while they checked out the hole he might chose to give birth in. It only broke when the attention was turned onto him, personal questions once again about him with puppies. First Erzulie and now this.

No. His gaze fell to the wayside, still with that glare but at least it wasn't focused solely on Cupid for now. I listen. This would be his fourth breeding season now, he had learned a few things through word of mouth or watching mothers in general in his travels.

How much of all he heard and remembered was true was a mistery, but it wasn't like he had any practice to judge for himself.

I've never had anyone to listen to. His mother was never suited for parenthood. She was a free spirit who was tied down by an unexpected child. She went in not knowing what to do and came out in a worse state. And his father, well, Cupid assumed he was no better. He had left them after all.

It's a little late now, isn't it? He said with a hiss. It's a shame the man was such a stick in the mud, prone to keeping grudges and keeping the events of the past so close to him. Every little encounter he had would always leave an impression and sadly for Cupid, theirs were already sown. 

All he could think of when looking at this female was the half conscious stupor, the buldge in the belly that was sharing the toxins their mother had ingested and blatantly carelessly ignored Rosencrantz's warning. He had done his part, she had dug her grave; and he would be the undertaker to finish what she had started.