Whisper Marsh Attica Grace Archer

Set to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guvY8Qbac7E&index=6&list=RDUIvkCtvalQ0

Hecate had built a very small den. Due to lack of help and her surroundings, it could only fit her and a smaller version of her inside. The mouth of the den was shrouded by vegetation and overgrown roots. They hid her place well, almost too well. Luckily, her stench was strong enough to let anyone know someone was here. She didn't bother marking around her den, just her presence was enough. When the day arrived, she panicked. She had never felt such a grounding pain in her whole life. Starting at the pit of her stomach and branching out to her appendixes. Rushing back to the den from an evening stroll, she curled into her den and waited. Sweat condensed her fur and although it was excruciating, it was just as beautiful. Her eyes cast down with a final push, and there she was. Her creation let out a series of soft cries, which strangely make Hecate's blood curdle. She cautiously reached her nose out to comfort the wet pile, nudging it and finally stroking it with a broad tongue. The whimpers ceased as the licking drew on, cleaning away the birth residue. What the fuck do I do now? She questioned silently. She hadn't really thought about what she was going to do until it actually came out. Instinctively, she pulled it to her side and as the little nose searched, it finally made its mark. There. She was a mother now. It felt weirder than she would have imagined to finally say that with truth.

"Attica." She whispered. "Attica Grace Archer."

He had known where she was for some time now, or at least roundabouts. A week maybe, several days that stretched on longer than he remembered from his childhood. An odd thing, given that time seemed to be subtly shortening the older he grew. He knew what he wanted, knew what he needed, and yet he had to gather the courage to bring himself to it all the same. There was much that he knew he would see when he saw that woman's face and the swell of her stomach. Confronting that was a necessary evil, however.

When at last he had decided to seek her out, not just follow after her faded scent trail like he used to do to the Hollow's members in the forest, he brought along a gift. Peace offering? Token of pity? He hadn't chosen to put that much thought into. All that he knew was that she had to be starving, out here alone with those monsters inside of her bleeding her dry. So he had caught her a hare, and the blood from its wounds mixed headily with her scent as he pursued her.

Something else was in the air, strange and yet primally familiar to him. It drew him in as much as it repelled him, and when at last he discovered her den Sven could not hide the deep wrinkling of his snout. Dropping the slain beast to the ground, he peered down into the tunnel and the blackness it contained. Silent as the pieces fell into place; down there was not just Hecate, but his half siblings.

Thoughts rolled slowly over him as he adjusted to this horrifically wonderful news. Unsure on which feelings to settle upon, the yearling soon donned a protective numbness. His haunches settled into the ground, and he turned with his back to the birthing place. Ears up and ghostly eyes alert, he sat as sentinel.

He'd had his doubts, but now he knew. He would do what his father had failed to.

He would provide for his blood, no matter how muddied.

About an hour of coddling her sweet creation went by when she heard a "knock on the door". Something large, another wolf was hovering the den. Unsure of who was paying their visit, her mouth went dry. Her daughter, currently too small to be left alone was keeping her grounded in the den. The visitor was either Skoll or Morganna. And both were trouble. Her chest rumbled, getting ready to verbally identify the visitor. "Skoll..? Morganna..?" She asked lowly, voice muffled by the dense foliage of her living space. Readjusting herself, she tried to get a glimpse of the trespasser. The fur was white, but could he really be here? What were his intentions? "@Sven... why're y'here." Last time the spoke, he had mentioned "ripping it out". Maternally, she could not let him near. Attica whined loudly, torn from her mother's side and milk. The amoeba looking thing writhed and grasped at the air. Torn between leaving to shoo the threat away or staying confined inside the hole, she stuck her front body out to get a better view. He sat about a yard away from the den, sitting back to the den. She could see that he had brought something to eat, it was unsure if it was his lunch or a peace offering. She held her breath, waiting for his reason to be here.

the armed queen

Sven's ears twitched when, as to be expected, Hecate's questioning voice tunneled its way through the shadows to meet them. A frown pressed at his thin lips, tugging the corners downward. Reactively his shoulders hunched, as though he should defend himself against the emotions that threatened to boil over. He'd missed her voice, just like he had missed her, despite all the hate she had provoked in him, and he despised that realization.

Silence pressed on as his teeth remained glued shut, his mind stalling as the answer wasn't so easy to find. There was plenty that he was doing, but what exactly was safe to explain to her right now and how should he say it? His ears flicked backward as the next sound to catch his attention was the shuffling of claws and limbs against the dirt, and he turned his head minimally so as to glance over his shoulder. Ghostly grey met venomous green for a thick moment before the boy looked ahead again.

"I wanted to talk," he finally admitted, voice rigid. "I didn't think you'd be..." his voice trailed off without finishing, and for a beat nothing more was said until his self control faltered and he asked in a voice much softer than he would have liked, "How many are there?"

(This post was last modified: Jun 07, 2016, 11:46 PM by Sven.)

A particularly uncomfortable period of time went by of the two starring. Hecate's eyes furrowed, creasing in the middle to express her perplexity. He finally uttered his reasoning, she listened to the change of his voice with twitching ears. In the time they last spoke, his voice had become deeper and scratchier. He trailed off on an interesting topic. Thought she'd be what? Healthier? Happier? More upset? She was dying to know, but it didn't seem to be appropriate to waste time. "One." She admitted. It was shameful that she was only able to provide a single offspring, but given the circumstances; it was a miracle it hadn't been stillborn. "Its a she." A thin and wavering whine rose from the den. Hecate looked back, pressing her thin lips together in thought. @Sven was a relative, an older brother. How could she turn him away from his sibling? "Its a tight area... but yer can see her if yer want..." She offered, slinking back to comfort her glistening star.

the armed queen

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

One? Sven's heart began to pick up pace, and by the time Hecate had finished speaking it was hammering violently against his ribs. His back remained directed toward her, but more so due to his frozen muscles rather than any conscious conviction. An only child, just as he had been. Born on the edge of the world where no one else bothered to tread, and already with an absent parent. The genders were reversed, but that only made it all the more difficult. He thought immediately of his father's relationship with his aunt, how close they had been and how easily it had gone down in flames. How it had left @Skoll a whisp. There were too many similarities, and they hurt him deeply to consider.

At the same time, however, they also steeled the resolution within his heart.

This whelp, his baby sister, would need someone there to stay at her side no matter what the world of adults threw at her. She would need someone to validate how she felt, not shush her and scold her and push her aside. She would need him, the only wolf that could possibly understand what it was like to walk in her paw prints.

When Sven turned his head to look over his shoulder once more, his eyes were soft as moonlit water. Slowly, muscle by muscle, he turned and then stood and then lifted a hesitant paw.

"I... yes. I'd like that, if... if its okay."

Watching him over her shoulder, his movements slow and cautious. Hecate could have never guessed that he could come around. For the longest time, she missed him. When Piety had been gone, she offered yet another voice. But in her mind, the voice she offered was different. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Sven did seem to take a personal liking to her. That was until she fucked up. But perhaps this little girl could mend their relationship. She faintly smiled and invited him in.

Taking gentle and little steps into the den, trying to make room for another body. Little Gracie squirmed and mumbled when Hecate's nose pushed on her stomach. Teeth that once held a bloody sneer, carefully lifted the little cotton ball to show and tell. Hecate did not hesitate to introduce them, plopping the younger Archer at his feet. "Attica Grace. Took th' best parts of both of us." Hecate said sotto voce, too tired to use any unnecessary energy. Her daughter's coat mainly black, a few white tips here and there. "Will yer be around often?" She asked, not lifting her eyes from the snuggly pup. Hecate for foreshadowing a difficult near future, she could not hunt and leave young Grace alone in the den. She would either have to starve or take her with her. If Sven planned on being around, it would give him time to be with Attica and Hecate some privacy to pursue a meal.

the armed queen

He completed that one suspended step forward, then hesitated once again before starting the next. She went ahead of him, disappearing underneath the earth again, and he forced his reservations down with a swallow. There was some kind of fear inside of him still, despite the resolution he had reached, but he couldn't let it beat him; couldn't let it keep him from the responsibility he had to shoulder. The yearling held his breath, pressed forward and dove into the dark, unfamiliar waters.

Even darker than the night outside of this private world that Hecate had created, it took the teenager's eyes a split second to adjust. Only his chest and forelimbs rest upon the den floor, the rest of his body taking up the threshold of the hollow so as not to crowd the mother and child. He had expected to see her at something of a small distance, but much to his surprise (and a smidgen of horror) she was promptly place immediately before him, close enough to touch. His gray eyes widened while his ears flicked forward to capture the litter one's name.

He tried to focus on the christening, but what struck him most was the word us. His stomach churned and clenched with hot emotion, making him all the more uncomfortable. He could accept now that this child too was Skoll's, and that she had been made of some sort of union between his father and a woman who was not Piety. Yet that simple term, whether it remained current or not (Sven was unsure), touched at so much more. After all that he had come to terms with, the fact that Skoll had maintained a relationship beyond the one night it took to create his sister still made his skin crawl.

That, too, he would need to overcome, wouldn't he?

Thankfully, Hecate's voice entered the earthy air once more, asking a question of him and offering him a distraction from his thoughts. His eyes lifted, but when hers were not raised to meet them, they fell back to Attica. Atty, he decided.

"Yes," he whispered, strength finally gathering within his voice as he continued. "I wanna help take care of her." I wanna take care of you both, was the amendment he didn't have the courage to admit (nor had he yet swallowed enough pride to). "I wanna be the big brother she's going to need."