Starglow Basin I'm sorry I'm the one you love

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Vomit! Not necessarily mature, but not everyone likes it

The pride in her ability to reproduce with such ease quickly faded.

Why did nobody tell her how horrible she would feel?

The fatigue, the constant nausea, the spinning of her head — it was horrible. The cravings were easy enough to manage, at least. It never took long to whine to someone who she thought was more able than herself.

She did very little these days for fear of spoiling things, of seeing herself fail when she had come so far. She refused to exert herself, to run and wander the way she had before.

Now she wandered to the borders; not to traipse as she often would, but to vomit.

Hacking, leaning over, the sight of her lunch coming back up her throat and out of her mouth was anything but pleasant.

leto, the python calls, drawing close as she bent over and ejected a foul smelling fluid from her mouth. 

between his teeth he holds a bundle crudely folded: cinnamon and fennel ground to a rough paste by the doctor. 

he pushes it towards her, motioning she must eat it. and while he does so, he’s taken back to a surprising memory of marciela, her face contorted in pain as she —

no, not this . soto blinks away the ghost of the past, focusing now on the pale figure of verapaz’s first mother.

She is caught off-guard by the voice of the python hitting her ears. Her intention had been to hide the bile that seemed to relentlessly flow from her, but here he was with one of his strange bundles, far too close to the crude pile of what was once a meal for her to not feel a bit embarrassed.

Que? The single word an attempt to ask what the bundle was for, though she picked it up despite that. Moving away from the foul-smelling liquid first, she then ate up the ground up paste. Leto was not one to reject a gift from a man she trusted.

Laying down for the moment, she hoped to rest her tired legs. This was as good an excuse as any.

del doctor. soto explains, watching as leto first moves from the pile of ejecta. she opened the bundle and without complaint, ate its contents -- showing a willingness to obey that moves soto deeply.

marciela's burning image fades from view, so very different than the strained face before him.

cuánto tiempo? he queries, taking cue from leto and reclining to his haunches.

From a doctor. That was all she needed to know.

Leto assumed he meant how much longer before her litter came, and so after a moment of pondering she gave her best guess. Un mes? Maybe. Or just over - she could not be completely sure. It was her first.

¿Qué pasará? She was curious of what would happen after the birth; both to herself and the puppies. It was a question which had been floating in her mind for some time now, one she could not seem to escape.

only a month left? soto hides his surprise. but he remembers feeling much the same with marciela. one moment they were locked in passionate embrace: the next, she's fat as a riverleech on a tapir -- and miserable, too.

que pasara? the question lingers between them. a long pause follows as soto organizes his thoughts -- which lately went every which way and refused to be herded.

nosotros crecemos. how much did leto know? nuestros enemigos se han ido. our enemies are gone. without them as a barricade, verapaz was free to spread its tendrils deep throughout the teekon.

but one thing at a time; a glint appears in the goldcoin of his glittering eye. tienes nombres elegidos?

His words made her feel that her safety was ensured, and at the mention of names she lit up a bit. Delos, Artymis, Apolloh. She responds. That is what they will be should things go her way; at least one boy and one girl, and Delos for whichever else came. Mi madre tuvo un promedio de tres cachorros por camada. And so that was what she had prepared for.

Mis hermanas y hermanos son muy grandes, hermosos también. Estos cachorros serán iguales. Stumbling over some of her words, she hoped to get her point across; her bloodline was one worth growing in Verapaz. The children she would soon bear would be born with the faces of angels, and the claws of devils.

delos, artymis, and apolloh. strong names, soto thinks as he turns them over mentally in his mind.

without intending to, his thoughts turn back to another conversation, thousands of days ago. he and marciela draped across one another as the splendid mexican sun lazed above them. what name will you pick, my love? he murmured as he clasped her thin paw in his own and marveled the fine points of her claws.

and the name she chose burned a hole through his heart to this day;

shaking the forbidden memory from his skull, soto's eye roved back to leto. she shared a little family history then, divulging she came from a long line of women with strong contributions to their children. though she stumbled at times over which words to choose, soto understood well enough.

he shares an encouraging smile. tres es un número de la suerte. he and marciela had only the one.

y castel? soto's expression drained of its warmth as he looked over her, wondering if she worries at all for castel's departure.

When Soto asks of Castel she almost seems to resist a chuff of laughter. ¿Qué hay de él? The question is spoken rhetorically, of course. No será padre, sólo por sangre. How was she to know if they would be his children at all? The litter was Leto's alone. She was carrying them, and she would be the one to raise them.

Hay hombres mejores que él en Verapaz. She finishes with this, pushing to her feet. Her stomach has settled now, and she wishes to return to her den and rest.

Fade after your next?