Stavanger Bay Sunlight on my side

Thistle waddled from the den site, and though she wished to go for a walk. She found it far to hard, to walk. She sat down with a small umph, and growled softly under her breath. This being twice as wide as tall, was not lovely. She was secretly cursing the size of her husband at the moment, that was what the meaning of this was surely. His size was gigantic, so of course his son's would be too. She sighed again, and shifted trying to get comfortable.

She pushed herself to her feet again, after catching what little breath she could. She headed towards the water, she wanted a drink. Hopefully, she wouldn't fall in. She may drown, simply because she couldn't get out. She lay at the edge of the river, and lapped up what she could. It was uncomfortable to say the least.

Pushing herself backwards, she plopped down on the ground. Her breath coming quickly in pants. While she lay there trying to catch her breath, she decided to take a small nap maybe. She closed her eyes, and wriggled about to get comfortable.

 @Ragnar 

Ragnar had been heading back to the den he shared with Thistle and their young wards (since I assume Gunnar has gotten his own den by now, maybe?) when her scent, sweet as it was with the scent of her mother's milk, tickled along the viking's black, leathery nose and he abruptly changed course eager to spend some time with her and their unborn children. As he approached he heard her quick pants, the sound of her body scooting around in the dirt, no doubt attempting to find something that was remotely comfortable for her causing his ears to thrust forth atop his skull as he shrugged into the underbrush, singular eye finding her soon and easily enough. Thistle looked measurably bigger than she had last year, though if this was because she carried more children, or if because they were his children he did not know. Perhaps, even, it might have been a combination of the both. “How big was Crete?” Ragnar inquired, ignorant to the fact that she'd been attempting to take a nap. Ragnar did not think of his wife's ex lover too often these days though the jealousy that he had once harbored – the consideration that should the DiSarinno ever show his face again that Thistle would flit back to his side and leave Ragnar without a second look back - had long since gone.


Ragnar's possessiveness had bred his jealousy but at this point he doubted there would be anyone that could separate them. Despite their arguments, which had not been as much lately, he found, they had strange love for one another. A king and his queen. Like Odinn and Freyja. Frigga might have been a temptress that caught the All-Father's eyes but his Queen was his one and true love. “Do you think they are just big because of me? Or that you are carrying ten sons in there?” He teased her lightly with a soft brush of his muzzle against her rounded, swollen womb that was exposed to him, feeling one of the children react to his touch, or perhaps it was his voice. “They know me.” He remarked with a soft, and rarely genuine smile. He should have been used to this sort of thing by now, but still he could not help but marvel over it, knowing that soon their children would be born into the world.

Thistle was half asleep, when she heard footfalls. She opened azure eyes, to take in the form of her husband. She offered him a smile. Despite the fact that she may curse him under her breath, she enjoyed it when he was near. She shifted so she could lift head, to look over swollen side. Which, was actually much harder than it seemed. His question caused her pause, because honestly she couldn't remember.

 I can't remember to be honest. He was bigger than me, but most wolves are dearheart. 

She frowned in thought, trying to remember exactly how big he was. How terrible was it? That she could not remember a lover, though in her defense it had only been one time, and it had been in a haze of lust and hormones. 

I think he was big, but lean.

Thistle would not deny that she and he, had strange love. It was possessive, and jealous, and full of lust. Yet there was also a mutual respect, that couldn't be shaken. And there was a love there, deep and ever growing. Thistle chuckled at his jest, she was willing to bet it was both, she felt overcrowded in there. She could feel little paws in there, pushing and straining against her sides. Rolls as they flipped about, her stomach rippling sometimes so largely, it was visual.

I think perhaps dearheart, that it is both, maybe, probably, yes. She teased him back gently.

As always, her breath caught in her throat when he smiled, his face maybe marred. But his smile, it was beautiful. 

She shook her had at him, and teased quietly, such a danger thing, that smile of yours my love. 

She leaned forward and licked whatever she could reach, even though he towered above her. of course they do. She smiled softly and blinked up at him.