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+---- Thread: Hollowheart Keep No Words Strong Enough (/showthread.php?tid=7003)
No Words Strong Enough - Naira - May 03, 2014
[dohtml]
Having a baby is painful
• NAIRA •
in order to show how serious a thing life is...
She had hardly slept for days and her irritation was clear. Low growls offered to any who so much as looked at her wrong and the sharp nip of teeth closely following was enough to warn most of the pack away.
On and off the pains coursed down her flank never quiet establishing a rhythm to send her running for her birthing den, and finally she had had enough of false alarms. Forcing herself clear of what meagre light managed to filter through the canopy she hunkered down in birthing den and waited... and waited.
The act of birthing itself passed in a haze, more so than any other time (a probable result of her exhaustion), with the final result being one large push, and two squirming pups at her belly nosing about for the rich milk her body had prepared for them. It was not usual for two pups to be born in one sac, and while it was the first time she had experienced such an event she had heard whispers of it before. The result end result was two brown bundles of fur, the slightly larger and first to emerge a daughter, followed only seconds later by her brother.
The instantaneous relief at their absence from her womb was enough to convince her she was done for the night. A small litter to be sure but after the winter they had endured she could only be thankful they were healthy. She could only assume that @Mapplethorpe would not be far and a small whine left her lips to let him know that all was well, and their children were strong.
RE: No Words Strong Enough - Mapplethorpe - May 03, 2014
[dohtml]
With Naira's increasingly agitated mood, Mapplethorpe only kept close whenever she required his presence. Otherwise, the Hollowheart Keep ruler and Advisor kept his distance, usually remaining within earshot unless his afternoon naps rendered him unreachable. Today was different though and he had awoken with a restlessness in his limbs. Duty brought him up onto all four of his paws and he made sure to check in with his mate's chosen birthing den before circling around and coming back. He had been comfortably nestled up against her back when Naira had gotten up, a sense of urgency hastening her steps.
One of his ears twitched, and soon after he was able to stand back up, he quietly followed. The worry and concern alone had been enough to put a crease in his brow but Mapplethorpe was no fool in realizing if and when it was time. Before the arrival of Aponi and Nova, the grizzled man had also witnessed a few other "royal" arrivals, but none of them had been as compelling as this particular brood. These cubs were his. His and Naira's.
Once upon a time, when he had been foolish and young, he had thought fatherhood was something undesirable. It was a means to surround oneself with an army of offspring, a way of defending one's throne, instead of defending it through mere power and independence alone. The idea that he would somehow be responsible for a son had also brushed him the wrong way. In leaving Vigilate Keep, he had hoped to avoid having history repeat itself. If he had been able to spare his nephew - or, goodness forbid, his own son - the brunt of the consequences he had suffered just for being a male in his family, then he would have felt as though he had done something good. With Naira, though, one by one, his walls and codes had fallen away. As a result, everything he had been raised to believe had been skewed. If there was one thing he might hope to accomplish in life, then he did want to have a family... with someone that he loved. Starting with him, his children would be the first to have an unbiased upbringing. Princes and princesses, heirs and heiresses, queens and kings, or even dutiful subordinates, whatever they wished to be, he only wished that they would always be only the very best versions of themselves. Whether they grew up to be like Cezanne's or Naira's or even younger, more agile versions of himself, in binding himself to Naira, he had made it his duty to bring forth a descendant worthy of Hollowheart Keep.
Naira's scent hung in the air surrounding her underground burrow and for several moments, he sat down at the entrance of it, staring into the darkness in hopes of a sign that everything was all right. Eventually, the ache in his joints won him out and by the time Naira let out a simple whine, he had been sprawled out on the forest floor, listening and waiting. At first his head came up and a plain, raspy bark answered back to let her know that he had been reassured.
He slowly scooted forward just enough to lay his head within the entrance of the downward tunnel, his ears cupped forward so that he could hear for himself the tranquil sounds of both his mate and the children they had welcomed into Relic Lore.
Re: - Spirit of Wildwood - May 03, 2014
There is a rabbit's nest nearby. +1 Health
RE: No Words Strong Enough - Naira - May 05, 2014
[dohtml]
Having a baby is painful
• NAIRA •
in order to show how serious a thing life is...
The hole that she had chosen to give birth in probably could have been a little roomier. It barely concealed the new mother, the shadow of her outline clearly visible from the downward entrance of the den. She shuffled around, mindful of her children's positions as she stretched her head up towards the den entrance, her tail thudding against the earthy floor and wall as she rested her head nose to nose with her mate, a small smile gracing her lips, and a very sleepy look in her eye. It had almost completely passed her recollection that today was a very important day for another member of their family.
“A girl and a boy.” she whispered gently, before peering to glance past the bulk of her mate. No others had lingered too close yet and for that she was a mixture of grateful and concerned. “A year to the day...” she continued to whisper so as not to wake the newborns contentedly suckling away at her stomach. “@Nova. She’s finally a yearling.” The statement was bittersweet. It was an achievement to be proud of, but made the absence of her sister sting just that little bit more. “I had hoped to congratulate her before...” but her words trailed off. Nobody told children when they would be born, they chose that timing all on their own.
She knew that she had left her mate the task of choosing names, but she had given it some pondering herself. “Have you settled on names love?”
Re: - Spirit of Wildwood - May 05, 2014
A fight broke out between two male mountain goats. Hunt Opportunity
RE: No Words Strong Enough - Mapplethorpe - May 05, 2014
[dohtml]
The smell of rabbit once or twice tugged at his nostrils as he could hear them emerge out of and slip back into their underground burrow somewhere behind him. Their energy and liveliness would make for a good meal in a moment, here, but first and foremost, Naira and his children had his utmost attention. He heard her voice lift up from the darkness of her den, a proud and pleased smile forming on his face at last upon hearing the news. He and Naira had one of each, both a daughter and a son. To the skies his unspoken words lifted in praise to the Spirit of the Wildwood as he closed his eyes and momentarily bowed his head.
Tibi gratias ago, tibi gratias ago...
When he opened them again, he thought he could see his beloved's figure resting in the dark, a glint of one of her golden-hued irises. His head lifted briefly to survey his surroundings, finding no one and nothing, just the comforting drone of springtime: the buzz of the bees, the slight rustling of the grasses in the distance, the chirps of passing songbirds overhead, and the stirrings that told of prey to be chased and enjoyed in the spirit of the hunt. If it had not been as quiet as it had, Mapplethorpe could have missed Naira's whisper altogether, but he was glad he had heard. Nova, his ears came down at the mention of his only remaining step-child. It had been quite some time since he had truly last seen the girl, and the last time he had actually sat down and talked to her, she was upset at the idea that the grizzled Leader did not care... for Mercy, for Aponi... and, perhaps, not even her. The poor thing.
He remembered the day so clearly as though it had been only yesterday when he had dutifully stalked toward Naira's birthing den in the Pass, keeping an ever watchful eye on the prince Datura as he attempted to worm his way into the den with his mother's permission. My what a difference a year had made... Yes, he was still an Advisor and he still owed his duty and loyalty to Naira, but she was no longer an Aquila and he was no longer a subordinate, just like how Datura and Nova and their agemates were no longer the squeaking mousy-furred bundles they had once been when they had first come into the world. He was in a different place now and he recognized the fact that he ought to have been overjoyed, grateful to have been given such a chance as to lengthen his bloodline through a powerful and awesome monarch. As Nova's adoptive father, he also figured he owed her that simple pleasure on behalf of her mother. Maybe if she didn't go disappearing anytime so soon after the cubs' birth, he would seek Nova out himself.
Naira's voice came to him again and, again, his attention was diverted. Names, she reminded him. Oh... yes... His tail swayed about in the air before settling back down as he considered his final answer. "For the girl," he began, his voice also soft as not to disturb his newborn successors. "I thought Asphodel would be nice." His smile lifted to touch the dark lines beneath his eyes, "I remember I used to pick the flowers when I was young; they were my grandmother's favorite and I'd often bring bouquets of them to her whenever I had the chance. The boy... I struggled with... but I think of the few I managed to remember, Amaranth, Clove, Coriander, and Hemlock are my picks. How do those sound?"