Sawtooth Spire there's lots of middle ground between the kings and centipedes
All Welcome  March 25, 2020, 05:08 PM

backdated to march 20th! papabär @Mahler?

        for days the depths of her aegean gaze could only be seen through a slight-made aperture; and there was a dubious air about the way she looked upon the world she couldn’t quite see. 
        it was on one of the warmer spring days that the gunky lids prised to reveal wide blue eyes in full. her gaze was far-away, unfocused. her environment could only be captured in pearls in full motley; her focus, unable to converge on any single object, merely caught shifting transitions of chiaroscuro and blears of amorphous shapes passing the denmouth, where the light blazed most bright. most of the time, she kept her eyes hidden from the world and its curious lookers-on. 
        her mobility was a more exciting development. while she still mostly sculling about on her belly, balancing on the balls of her front feet was becoming less of an effort, and in coming weeks she would be unanchored; in spirit— in willfulness— in promise. the underlying, perennial urge of freedom and impatient youth burning like reams of sulphur. 
        she clumsily danced on wylla’s heels to the mouth of the den, pressed to her leg, but paused at the entry while her mother continued on and disappeared through the thicket. with a huff, phaedra rocked to hindquarters. the milkmaid did this more often nowadays, though she rarely stayed away for long. even still, the child had yet to enroot an understanding of gone now, not forever, and losing her all-access pass to the woman’s milk was frustrating.
        a crestfallen whine formed in her throat, punctuated by a disgruntled growl that vibrated and strummed curiously in her vocal bands. unable to hear herself, she repeated the gnarling noise and plucked at her chest at the ensuing judder up her gorge. 
        the little stormcloud with thunder in her belly rolled against her back—which no longer troubled her with soreness—and popped a paw in her mouth, siring an adorable litter of babyish growls as she suckled self-soothingly on her pale toes.
44 minutes ago
        today mahler was full of a trepidation. he had placed sagtannet into a situation that might prove untenable: two litters, sired by himself, but between two mothers, and not without their own foggy history.
        mahler had no true grasp upon the breadth of the issues between wylla and nyx, save for a vague memory of tension within grimnismal. 
         despite this, he found he did not regret his choices. nyx was a valued individual who had earned her right to motherhood through firm work and loyalty. in doing so she had also garnered his affection.
        and wylla. in him was a great flame for her fierce raw ways, one that burned hot and unquenchable. he was utterly smitten. 
        he did not understand either of them.
        loud little phaedra. calm baby thade. they charmed the craggy gargoyle and he was quick to relieve wylla of parental tasks wherever possible. today was no different; mahler approached the den as she departed, brimming with soft feeling for all of them. 
        and there on the stoop was his tiny daughter, enlivened with a new pair of murky blue marbles, and vibrating with adorable growls. "nun, süße ente," the gargoyle grunted, sliding forearms to either side of her round body as he lay down, half-inside the den. he always lapsed thankfully into his proper tongue when alone with his children, perhaps a bit rebelliously. "was siehst du?" 
        he looked warmly down upon phaedra as he spoke, lavender eyes quite lacking his usual coolness.

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