Drooping Willows on the mattress side by side

My first birthing thread for @Skoll and maybe @Angier if wanted.. | Piety's den on the borders | Sunrise | May 9, 2015

There are darknesses in life and there are lights,

saint & sinner

and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.

She had been minding her own business since the pack meeting. Accepting herself as perhaps the lowest of the pack (which has not been decided yet) but was eager she had been allowed Skoll's company. Of course as the pain in her abdominal grew more and more bothersome she found herself crawling into the safety of her den. A quick call was made for Skoll who was bound to be close.

Sitting in the den the contractions grew worse. Hours of pain went by that made Piety to believe that choosing to have a child was a bad idea. Of course when it had been over and a small bundle had came from herself that instinct took over. The Santoro woman cleaned off the child. A male as pale as herself with a dark spot on his tiny muzzle. Ushering the child silently with kisses and a wet nose towards her stomach. As if they both knew suddenly what they were doing the child latched onto Piety and the Santoro woman groomed the child silently.

Many moments passed that Piety was marveling in the beauty of the child who came from two opposites. "You're going to grow to do great things in the world...May the Lord please you darling." She forgot something though. The child would need a name to go by. Something as grand as his legacy to be. "What shall we call you?" Looking up to the entrance of the den Piety whined softly. "Skoll..if you're there you can come in.." Not paying too much attention to the entrance her attention was directed back to the bundle nuzzled up at her side. Looking as precious as herself yet also as strong as his father.

shutterstock / Grey / 2015

# C W T

the space between the wicked lies we tell

His initial shot at Leadership had been foiled. Every other moment since the pack meeting, Sköll Archer had cursed and scolded himself at putting on such a pitiful show. An accident, he had called his unborn children. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The brood that was growing within Piety's womb were to be expected. They were Elettra's and Roman's and Romanov's descendants and, therefore, noble by title and blood as well as rightful heirs of Torbine if the rest of his family had accepted such a thing over there. There would be no Lyall-borne nonsense with these cubs. None whatsoever. He was sure of it. So, when his mother had decided that he was to be demoted as the pack's Lowest, Sköll had no reason to counter it or disgrace the Queen further. At the very least, he and Piety were still apart of the pack; if they had been anyone else, they would have been cast out and the prince would have been denied his birthright as an heir beside his sister Morganna.

For now, while his mind had been preoccupied with the numerous ways in which he was going to lobby for his figurative crown back, the Trickster had resorted to remaining a bit more elusive than usual. In addition to his nightly patrols (which were more like "walks" now since his position of and duties as Willow Ridge's Lowest rarely encompassed that of a Guardian or Vigilante), he only answered to Piety; even when Angier caught glimpses of him every so often, the prince gave a small nod before making himself scarce once more.

He had just come to the end of his stroll when the sun was beginning to rise on yet another day and his night-black paws had led him straight to Piety's den. He did his usual look-over, scenting about the immediate area to ensure that his angel had gone undisturbed, but found that something was... off. Alarms began to go off in his head as he lightly walked about to the entrance of the thicket with his hackles raised and teeth bared. Even if he was visible in the lightening hours now, he still relied on his stealth. She sensed he was there though and it was with a light and affectionate tone that she requested him to draw closer, to come inside if he had wished. He gave a loud snort as his pale eyes peered into the darkness of the den.

Instantly, by scent alone, he realized that something was wrong. Gone was the sweet, intoxicating scent of his beloved and what fanned out from her resting place was something foul, disgusting, revolting on the nose. Like something had crept into the thicket and died, its body beginning to rot. Pulling his head from the den and grimacing with a cough, it took him a moment but eventually, Sköll's nose became desensitized enough for him to peer in again.

This time, it seemed as though something else were moving about in the den, something else was breathing and was possibly sharing the space with Piety. His fur smoothed over and his ears came up to their natural positions atop his head. Then came his usual address of "Miss Santoro..." His tail lashed about at the air above his rump, curiosity suddenly seizing him from within and holding him captive as he strained to see through the darkness of his mate's hiding place. "Is everything all right?"

One of his ears perked up and swiveled frontward, his gaze honing in on Piety's side. A scowl disfigured his face, furrowing his brows and creasing his muzzle as his mind went to work to put a logical, reasonable answer together. The scent of blood, Piety's isolation and alertness at this hour of the day, the strange twitching and scent of milk coming from her side... His frown fell away as he met her eyes, lowering himself so that he crawled on his elbows to greet her. His children's arrival had already come and he had missed it.

"How many are there?" he asked, wanting to know this piece of information first and foremost, "Boys? Girls?"

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

There are darknesses in life and there are lights,

saint & sinner

and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.

Her lover was quick to make a presence. It was no shock though, as he seemed to never be too far from her. Now the Santoro woman was even more sure that he’d stick around. With their child now into the world she would expect @Skoll to be extra diligent, if such a feat was possible for a man like him.

Looking into Skoll’s ghostly eyes for a moment Piety was nervous about exposing the child. He was still so fresh and new. Perhaps the newborn should have had a moment of nursing while the two young lovers talked. ”Everything is fine Mr. Archer...but you missed something.” The pale woman noticed that her lover had picked up on missing the birthing of his heir. Yet she didn’t mind. Somethings in life were meant to be missed.

Nudging the child with her dark nose the bundle seemed to throw a fit. Whines, squeals, and noises of all kind came from the new Archer. Licking the child’s crown softly in hopes of silencing the newborn it seemed to put some of the noises to rest. ”It’s one boy Skoll. A heir to us.” Moving just the slightest bit, as not to disrupt the child but allow him to become more visible. His fur was white like her own but a smudge of darkness rested on the end of his muzzle. While it looked like just dirt now it would surely become a marking the older he grew.

”He needs a name.” The pale woman’s voice was a hushed whisper as she fixed her child back to her side more properly. ”Something strong to begin his life story.” River-mud eyes traveled up to stare into ghostly grey eyes. This was it. Her child represented a new chapter in her life.

shutterstock / Grey / 2015

# C W T

the space between the wicked lies we tell

As much as he cared for Piety, loved her just as much as he had loved his mother Elettra, Sköll Archer, at his very core, was selfish. It had not occurred to him to ask if she really was all right or whether or not she had needed something. At present, it was of utmost importance for him to know more about the innocent souls that she had bore him. What he came to learn was that Piety's womb had only been spacious enough for one child. A boy. One boy... a prince and heir.

The Archer fell silent, his jaw clenched shut and his lips sealed tight. A part of him had really wanted a girl. One that would put his sister @Morganna in her place when she grew older. She would have been his mother's favorite and only grandchild, her father would have made sure of it. But, this boy - Sköll's ghost gray eyes flit now to Piety's side to pick out a smaller body whose fur was just as white as his his mothers - would still do... Whatever sort of foundation Sköll would establish would become effortless stepping stones for his son.

He stared for some time at the two tiny ears and the small pebble-sized nose he could just barely see amidst the expanse of white and shadow. Piety moved, though, to tend to the little royal and Sköll's fascination was broken, especially by her comment on the fact that the cub would need a name - a strong one, she especially mentioned...

Outside of the den, the Archer's tail wagged. Two names initially came to mind (when he considered the color of his son's coat), the ones that had belonged to his great-grandfather and grandfather: Roman and Romanov Archer. Had Sköll known his own father's name, he might have considered naming his son after him, but according to Elettra, he had been weak, unwilling, and inept in his ability to rear his own young. Pity; the opportunity to overwrite history had been well-missed.

Guiness... he thought next, but with the thought of the old, loyal Guardian came the thought of his Nonna Skana. Sköll's daughter would have been named Skana. The thought made a small smile curl up at the corners of his mouth and he inched closer to Piety to nestle his temple against hers while he continued to marvel at the whelp at her belly. He kept quiet as he thought, the air in the den being filled only by the rhythm of their breathing on top of the ivory boy's suckling sounds.

Romanus... Archer... Skoll... sever... Severus... Severus, Skoll, Romanov. Sköv. Skiv. No... terrible. His head tilted away from Piety's for a short moment as he stared, unseeingly, at the boy's stubby tail and hind limbs. Asriel, me, Morganna, Deacon, Castiel, and Greer. Six born to Willow Ridge. My son... Seven. The seventh in line.

"Sven," he said after sometime, glancing over at Piety and searching her face for approval. "Sven Santoro Archer." The way the name rolled off his tongue sent a shiver down his spine. It was as though Sköll's name had been merged with his great-grandfather's. It was almost noble... Sven. With its singular syllable being a little "quieter" in pronunciation it almost seemed to promise that the boy would grow into a man who was as observant as Deacon, as quiet as Greer, yet as intimidating as Asriel. "How does that sound?"

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

Shallow water has trapped several fish in a small pond. Hunt Opportunity