[O] what pride had wrought [birth] - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: [O] what pride had wrought [birth] (/showthread.php?tid=24674) |
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what pride had wrought [birth] - Nyx - 07-23-2016
Open, but please let Gaucho post first! RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Gaucho - 07-23-2016 GAUCHO And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good It of course didn't take the dun long to learn of the silver's presence on the outskirts of his borders.
It was Vorsa who had spied her first. When the small orangey-yellow pheonix was doing invisible laps in the low hanging cloud, she had spied the black and silver below, accompanied by the quiet white lion who the mythical bird thought would have no qualms about eating her, should the opportunity arise. Still, Vorsa knew the likely cause of Nyx's presence, and alerted Gaucho immediately. As soon as her mind wrapped around his, pulsing the information in bright colourful flashes of imagery, Gaucho began to descend. Like a comet streaking downwards, Gaucho came for her, just as he promised he would. No child of his creation would go through life without his support once it had been requested. He had told Nyx as much, and now it was time to fulfill his end of the bargain. Nyx had clearly been fulfilling her end given just how swollen her sides had become. Gaucho's steely blue-gray gaze was focused solely upon Nyx as he landed at her flank. "Good that you come." He grunted without offering so much as a hello; though in her present condition, the Wildfire very much doubted that what the silver soldier wanted was a hello. "Come. Gaucho open bridge. Many healers in throat. We go to Oasis." He offered himself as a support should she require it, but made no other small talk. His only goal was getting her across the bridge and onto his territory before she gave birth. it didn't cross his mind what Sohalia might think if she saw him now (it would certainly help level the playing field though), or indeed what the other members of his herd might think. For now, the livelihood of the child within Nyx had the entirety of his attention. The bridge, normally a mere glisten stretching over the water, burst into fiery life as Gaucho neared, activated by his key. "Come. Flames not hot. Oasis close." Table style by Tamme! Image Credits RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Nyx - 07-23-2016
TL;DR - Nyx's second foal has red-bagged, so will need healer attention to sever the umbilical cord and stop it getting infected, and also to generally make sure the foal's okay. RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Arakh - 07-24-2016
RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Gaucho - 07-24-2016 GAUCHO And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good Not only was the Oasis mostly shaded and near water (two things a mother in labour would likely appreciate having around), but it was closer to the heart of the Throat were most of the herd was usually assembled.
Specifically, it was closer to their healers. Although the fire on Gaucho's wings could be made to knit skin back together and ease pain, he had never studied the art of healing. The dun had merely accepted the gift bestowed upon him and used it as his leisure. Being able to heal did not make him a healer, and he knew it. Sorry...big journey from Edge. Thought I'd have more....time.. As Nyx dropped onto the sands, Gaucho snarled in the back of his throat - a sound which the lion might have appreciated under other circumstances. Still, he was a warrior and improvisation was one of his stronger suits. Three fiery eagles suddenly appeared at Gaucho's side and then flew to the three points of the compass that he did not currently occupy. There, like fiery angels they guarded Nyx from any that might dare to come closer. While it was true that Gaucho had been present for the birth's of his own hoard of children, he had also been present at many other births as well. There was nothing knew here, and yet for all the things Gaucho didn't know about mares, one thing he had learned was that in moments such as these, despite his desire to be close and to watch them for signs of distress, they wanted anything but his eyes lingering upon their labouring bodies. And so, with a look towards the lion, Gaucho turned his back upon the silver. He stood close, but his eyes were upon the bloody sands of his home. Gaucho heard the first sounds of life leaving the silver, and he waited a few seconds before turning around. He was surprised (though shouldn't have been, really), to see horns and wings upon the babe. Gaucho had only ever mated with pegasi before, and while he knew what hybrids were, it had never been in his genetic cards before. There was something impressive about the horned babe leaning against Nyx's haunches. Just as he was about to say as much, Nyx was speaking in a tone of voice that froze Gaucho's stomach. Gaucho, there's something wrong.. Fire rose high and bright on Gaucho's wings as he turned to give Nyx his full attention. He could heal her and the child, whatever it was, he could give them back whatever strength they needed - As her body was forced into a second birth (this didn't surprise Gaucho, for most of his off spring had come in pairs), he watched the red-cloaked child slip from the silver. Having never witnessed such before, the dun merely inhaled his surprise. She's not breathing, she's not breathing! As Dominus moved to aid the child, Gaucho was shocked back into movement. He spun away from the trio. The fire eagles suddenly flew back to his sides as he reared into the air. His fiery wings beat towards the heavens and a column of fire swept upwards and the eagles began to circled it. "SIKEAX." Gaucho roared across the sands. From her place in his antlers, Vorsa suddenly leaped into the air. "Find her." Gaucho commanded the phoenix who took off in a blaze of fire, intent on finding the champagne healer. Satisfied, Gaucho turned back to Nyx, Dominus, and the two foals. The one was now out of the bloody bag, presumably thanks to the lion. "Healer come." Gaucho assured. If Vorsa didn't find her, the fiery conflagration just feet away from them would surely draw her attention. Like Gaucho with threats, Sikeax always seemed to show up when she was needed. And she was needed now. Table style by Tamme! Image Credits RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Esinakh - 07-24-2016 esinakh
Life was a sea of warmth and rhythmic beating. Her heart had, from the beginning, been a smaller and fainter tempo than that of the one beating alongside hers (brother) or the overwhelming cadence that was the overarching rhythm of their entire world (mother’s). Hers had been a quiet beat, nearly a flutter; racing and slowing; trying to find some synchrony between the two beats around her. It took a long while, so fast was her brother’s beat and so strongly slow was her mothers. Until one day, this day, when mother’s began to increase, to race and beat faster and faster. So fast that it nearly matched brothers—finally, all their hearts can beat as one. But then brother’s heartbeat is gone and her own heart begins to race, so much more than a flutter. It’s a small, pulsing bomb in her chest, a terrified ticking that’s moments from imploding. There’s not enough; not enough room, not enough oxygen, not enough light. A stillness overcomes her, succumbing to this ‘not enough.’ She is not enough, over before she began. A silent soul, entombed in mother’s blanket of life. A comforting vessel to take her beyond the world she had already missed. But then—light. It pierces into her eyes just as dry, stinging air pierces her skin. But, still, she is beyond this, now. She is…. she is awash with warmth? The same warmth from before the darkness, but also different. A good different, a different that makes her small, slender ribs rattle as her chest expands, a quiet bleated exhale given as this breath hurts her starved, drowned lungs. White eyes open slowly, sounds a confused cacophony around her—a joyful whinny, loud and relieved breaths, a deep shout. But what overwhelms her air-famished mind is the red. The bloody blanket that swaths her, strangles her, just as the mucous that puddles around her had filled and swamped her lungs. And she wanted out, away from this mangled mess that had been her birth. Long, ashen legs flail and strike randomly against the air and earth. Her nubbin wings flapped and beat in small strokes as a small, broken squeal rushed out of her tiny chest. Away, away, her body strived. But then—soft pressure. She stilled head raising from the blooded goop and white eyes widely searching, arresting on the blues of her sibling. His tiny muzzle touched against her, despite the dangerous bag she laid in, as if she was good. As if she was safe, now. And so she returned the gesture in kind, small muddled muzzle tentatively reaching out to her brother-calf. Another, calmer low came from her quivering nostrils. vod chafaan dust to the wind RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Sikeax - 07-28-2016 Sikeax, Tallsun had encouraged her to grow accustomed to sleeping during the day, tucking beneath a tree with enough leaves and branches to offer her ample shade through the heat of the day, but today, instead of sleeping, she found other things to preoccupy herself with.
Only one floats idly in the air, sweeping the hind portion of its electric body outwards to hover slightly higher. Hobgoblin cannot take his eyes off of it, spread into large sizes as a long, black tail beats against the orange sand, generating clouds of dust as he does. He’s already learned his lesson about these fish: they don’t make good meals. His punishment from her had been being sentenced to suffer with his wounds, mouth held tightly shut because if he opens his mouth now, the burns will ignite a passion in themselves and amply the pain. He hates them just as much as Sikeax enjoys them. It dissolves into a flurry of snaps and cracks, sparks shooting outwards into oblivion as they fade as the sky seemingly ignites before their eyes. Her name splits the tranquility of the day like a knife does butter. Such things are never a good sign. Her body heaves from the ground with a slow sort of bitterness, joints aching and muscles sore as she pulls herself together, mentally preparing herself for whatever waits ahead of her. Hobgoblin has already changing in favour of their coming race to whatever, standing watch with a dull sense of curiosity that she wishes could overpower the amount of panic and worry in her. And like a gift from the fucking heavens, a bird, a bird made of damn flames was the one to alert them to make more haste. She throws a groan in both directions of the companions, Hobgoblin who was centered on watching the bird as if it would kill him(and with good intention after their last experience with fire), and the bird who had already begun to make off in the direction they were supposed to go. Nothing is said when he takes chase. Quite possibly the hunter in him has gotten the better of his mind, driven by instinct to chase Her following pace is one that she'll regret in the future, maybe tomorrow but not today. Adrenaline has taken no spare time in getting the healer into a full blown gallop, and by the time that she can see the beginnings of Gaucho and whoever is in need of her assistance, Hobgoblin is sending her mental images. Nothing out of the ordinary, given that the Dragon's Throat seems to have 5 different births each season. Cut the cord before I get there. "Ew. No. You do." She swears she hates him with every fiber of her being for how he acts, how she could have possibly bounded with a companion that understood the importance of her job in this herd and how sometimes if they were the first one to make it to a scene that it wouldn't hurt to aid. The cord is still in tact when she arrives, dipping her head and severely dreading having to throw it into her mouth to cut it. Your teeth would have worked better than mine. It severs with little of a fight. "Next time that happens, don't waste any time in breaking it. It doesn't take a healer to cut it but it'll help move things along." Gaucho seems to have a knack for arriving at births, so hopefully in the future, it'll aid him. Her eyes draw over the children, looking at the red bag strung out on the ground, silently hoping that the cringe she feels coming along doesn't make it to her face. Hobgoblin has already thrown his head back in disgust at the sight. Get over it. The situation is still bits and pieces to her as she attempts to study it, trying to look for things that fit together well, but the best information that she could draw would have to be from Gaucho and the mare. The foals are moving, which is always a good sign. "What exactly happened?" Oh, how she must look like the world's worst healer, having to stand there and ask what happened because she can't make heads or tails as of what to do next. OOC: Please just tag when it's my turn to post so my inbox won't get heavily clogged up! Hobgoblin is in his Serval form when Vorsa finds them but turns into his Wendigo form before arriving. talk @Gaucho RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Nyx - 07-31-2016
@Gaucho I'll post Rak again after Gaucho gives him his name if that's okay, so he has something more to react to :D RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Gaucho - 08-03-2016 GAUCHO And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good The dun merely grunted in response to Sikeax's advice. The feeling of relief was too strong at having her arrive too quickly for him to digest the snippet of knowledge that could later assist him. Besides, surely severing the cord and skin-bag was the duty of the mother? Unless she was literally incapable of doing so, Gaucho couldn't imagine a situation where that responsibility would fall to him. Still, should it happen, he had been warned.
Unlike during the births of his previous children, Gaucho's muzzle did not extend downwards towards Nyx following her labour. There was no love between the two, though perhaps some sort of congratulations were in order. She had done well to conceive, grow, and deliver the two twins which law sprawled upon the sands, but her attention seemed to be on the foals now, not on him. Assss it sssshould be. Mara thought smugly in his thoughts, keeping her dark eyes peeled for signs of Sohalia on the horizon. Finally her eyes do seek out his, and she asks if he would like to name the babes. Has he ever been included in the naming process? He doesn't think so ... both Ampere and Sohalia had taken that responsibility onto themselves. Pondering, the dun stepped forward. His large black muzzle dipped low to inspect both bodies tumbled onto the sands. The boy, the first born of the two, appeared strong. Gaucho's thoughts flickered to Rhoa, Ivezho, Zero, and Hawk ... were any of them strong? Perhaps in their own rights, but not in the way that this boy already threatened to be. Gaucho's lips parted in a secret smile as he nudged the boy's withers with his bone-pierced nose. "Arakh" he offered softly, but decisively, his steely gaze following the curves of the boy's budding horns. The dun cast a glance to Nyx as he repeated the word. "Arakh. Means a blade that is curved." Next his attention turned to the filly. She was like her brother in that they were both horned and winged creatures, but there was something different about her. Something that did not resonate with any of her other siblings despite their common heritage. His muzzle lowered to her shoulder as well, scenting the deathly bag which had almost taken her life still clinging to her skin. Exhaling a breath onto her, the dun lifted his black lips back up and regarded her with a pride smile reserved only for his daughters. "Esinakh..." Another word from his native tongue. "Means something different .. unique." Table style by Tamme! Image Credits RE: what pride had wrought [birth] - Esinakh - 08-27-2016 esinakh
She was content, beneath the nuzzle of her brother and gentle touches of mother. These sensations were warm. Not as hot as the heat of suffocating blood; nor as cold as the quickly cooling afterbirth soup she laid in. Her mother’s soft touches turn to guiding nudges, towards—towards what? A sweet smell of life wafted into her nostrils between the overwhelming stench of iron-tanged blood around her. Yet, before she could move any further in response to mother’s nudging, a new warmth spread across her bony shoulder. Abruptly, still-cloudy eyes jerked up, head and horn-nubs swinging haphazardly through the hair, coming face-to-face with a black nose and starkly white bone. Her too-large head bobbled on her small neck as she craned backwards, cloudy white eyes trying to focus on the fuzzy, warm being that spoke some deep word. Some parts of her addled consciousness recognized the importance of such a word; but, truly, she would not recognize her own name until another (likely brother) spoke it once again to her. She moved to stand—but her body was already exhausted from nearly being stillborn. So, instead, her small frame of bones and angles wiggled out of the bloodied, failed infant tomb. Her tiny hooves scrambled, the foal slipper still blunting them. And she wiggled right to the source of the sweet smell; the only reprieve from the stench of birth that had surrounded her. With a happy bleat, she slowly latched on to mother’s teat, milk mixing with blood in pinkish swirls on her white-spattered muzzle. An ear tipped backwards, waiting and listening for brother to join her in her meal. vod chafaan dust to the wind I felt the need to reply to this again! <3 |