Lost Creek Hollow Bloated, Achey and Pis*Y
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All Welcome 
There is no need to answer if you don't want too, but I can't imagine she'd let anyone, but him near her right now. he would probably be the only one that could handle her witchiness anyway lol

There was a distinct edge to Ash Paw as she moved through the pack lands. A feral energy that had her hard pressed not to snarl at everyone within paws reach. She didn't want help or touched or looked at. She didn't want to eat, but she was ravenous. She was tired of peeing all the time. The marked borders were pungent with her stench, because it was every freaking 5 minutes. She cursed gods and angels and demons. SHe snarled to herself at least five times a day about the ineptitude of everyone and everything around her, but she was never mean if she could stop herself. She mostly had kept to herself, sequestering herself in the whelping den she had begun to dig. That was where she was now. She had furs and soft things nearby to litter the floor with, but she had to get the stinking thing dug first.

Finally, she took a small break and started in a seat, and then slowly slid to her belly and rolled to her side. The stomach of hers extended much larger than it should be she felt. There was nothing wrong, she had carefully monitored herself and Crowfeather had checked in with her on occasiona. But unf. And she knew it was because of the size difference between her and Sanguinex and next year her and @Ingram it would be the same thing. He deserved his own blood children eventually.
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
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#2
i'm always up for a ashgram thread! ♥

the day has been miserable; frigid and damp with a mist that refused to let up.

he'd made a sweep of the patrols before finding a place for his threadbones and feather of ma'at — a small, long abandoned rodent den of some type. his fur wrapped threadbones and feather of ma'at tucked perfectly within it; kept from the elements.

he spends the next handful of hours turning the small hollowed, rotting log beside it into an altar for Osiris. though he was not satisfied with it yet, he halts construction upon it when he gets word of ashpaw's ... mood.

ingram, distracted, isn't sure who lets him know.

but he abandons it all the same to seek her out in her birthing den. or the beginnings of it, at least; a low chuff leaving his lips to announce his presence lest his footfalls were not enough of a giveaway.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
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They are always interesting lol :D ♥

Ash Paw felt so sorry at the moment. The day was yucky, her mood was sour and now she was laying here like a beached whale. Just realizing, she may not be able to get up and that made her angry again. And then her eyes threatened to fill, because she was tired of being angry and she was so happy for the littles and at the same time she wanted to scream why weren't they here yet, because it was irritating. Just one mood after another.

A low chuff reached her ears and calico head lifted. She stared at him for a beat of a minute, and then lay it back down. Her voice muffled and a tiny bit strained. 

Hello Ingram. I'm kinda miserable, word of warning. I may bite your head off. Tell you what to do with yourself and where to stuff it.
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
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for a moment, ingram is torn between wanting to chuckle and tease her or offer what little condolences he could.

deciding that the latter might fall a bit short given that he would never know what carrying cubs would feel like, he opts for the first.

so ... a normal day for us? he teases lightly, hoping that it might help to bolster her mood a bit.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
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The mage was unsure would she have taken a lot of teasing. But she probably would have taken it better from Ingram than most. This was true. Tail flopped half-heartedly against the dirt.

Then his words and a gentle peal of laughter despite her high ire. I suppose so yes. She lifted her head on a whim and studied him. And motioned for him to move nearer. Upon moving, she'd place his paw directly over where the little's were most frequently moving and kicking.
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ashpaw's anger is a palpable thing; a shimmering rush of heat like a fortress 'round the den that ingram assumes is the birthing den.

but he does not fear it.

he's been the reason for it many and more times. the lash of it is familiar.

he slipped into the den, drawing nearer, struggling to find where to lay so that he is near but not crowding her. the den is large, made to fit mother, cubs and father alike.

she moves his paw over her swollen sides; and he recoils slightly when he feels the cubs within her womb move.

it's a strange thing to feel. to feel life when he is so intimately familiar with death. Osiris bless them, they feel strong. the patronsaint murmurs.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
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Ash Paw didn't fear angering Ingram. He had been upon the receiving end of her ire more than once, and he accepted that she was this way. Was it fair of her, probably  not, but it was freeing to be completely herself in his presence.

She laughed then. Trust me I know. They move day and night, always shuffling, always kicking. They will come to life with such strength.

She smiled up at him and curled a paw around his foreleg. The touch grounding her for the moment. She and Ingram. They had familiarity, realness. They knew the ugly parts of the other and stayed anyway. That was important to the haughty woman.
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
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that is good. ingram mumurs, though he suspects he does not have to tell her of such. if they hadn't been moving there should have been worry.

well, maybe not for you, ingram amends quietly with a slight, cheeky grin. they should be here soon, though. he tries to remember when the wispmother had been carrying his shadowchildren. she had become a recluse during her pregnancy ... and he had seen only bare glimpses of her.

still, they were enough to cobble together a rough idea.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
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She nodded her head. It was good and she had monitored them well, and herself. Kept her heart rate decent, had tried to lessen stress, ate when she was hungry, drank all the time. All of the things she needed to do.

She pushed at his leg with a gentle huff of laughter. There was a soft nod. Yes probably in mere days.

She wondered at them. How many would there be? Would the be all colors like her? Or different colors? They would be so cute, this she knew. Maybe not at first, wrinkly and small, little balls of fluff.
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#10
soon.

soon, he would be father again. soon, he was given a second chance. at family.

he trusts Osiris blindly not to lead him astray as Sithis had.

the obsidian and gold veined hall of two truths would strike a balance, as he did with the heart and the feather.

not swallow and take, endlessly hungry and utterly uninterested in returning anything as the void had been.

do you need anything? he asks, shifting then, trying to decide how he should tentatively plan the coming days.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
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If nothing else Ash Paw was aware of herself and her needs. She also tried not to mince words with those she cared about. It was not her way. Perhaps that was harsh, perhaps she was harsh. Not gilded and lovely as so many other woman, but she was her own wolf and she liked it that way.

So with his question she didn't hesitate. Yes. You to lay here with me, because I want something in this case someone, warm to lean into.

She motioned for him to get a move on. She knew he wasn't a fan of touching ,but she didn't rightly care. She was cold and achy and wanted his warmth and softness, even if the soul of the man wasn't soft, his fur was.
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her request is simple.

and not what ingram expected.

seaglass gaze studies her for a moment before he scoots closer until his side is pressed against her's.

being idle needles at him, but this is what she wants, what she needs.

and he could not lie and say he didn't want this closeness, too.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette