the Rift


[OPEN] what pride had wrought [birth]

Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow
#1

Her sides quiver and pulsate with life as she thunders across Helovia, her flesh soaked with sweat from the relentless Tallsun heat. Her body travels across the ground, but her mind is back in the Edge at the meeting, with her shame, with her stupidity.

What had she been thinking?! Why had she said those ridiculous things? These are all questions she forces herself to dwell on as she moves as fast as she can from the Edge to the Throat, contractions rippling at intervals across her belly. Fool. You jealous, selfish, stupid fool. Yes, pregnancy hormones could have helped fuel her outburst, as well as heat-induced irritability, but neither of those things seized hold of her tongue and forced it to make those words. She only has herself to blame, and she knows there is no going back from this.

Her life is falling apart. First the creation of Oizys and Enyo, and the lie she had to weave to cover up their existence. Then their traumatic birth, followed by an expansion of that lie to include her beloved father. Then, explaining the lie to her father, suffering his shame in her, his embarassment to have her as a daughter. Now this - she has lost the respect of her herdmates, and had she deserved anything else?

And Oizys...oh, Oizys. Had Nyx raised her so poorly that she thought it acceptable to tell multiple members of the herd to basically fuck off? But, reasons the silver, what kind of example had she herself set to her one remaining daughter, when she'd been the one to blurt out her unwanted opinion in the first place?

What kind of mother can she be to this child nestled within her womb if she can't even control her own tongue?

These acidic thoughts plague her during the many hours it takes her to arrive at the Throat's borders. Dominus is close by her side, having deposited her new shield and knife on the Edge borders on the way. He is the only one he can trust never to desert her, and he protects her like only a companion can as they make the long journey together.

This is uncharted territory for the silver soldier. She's never been this far south, and the heat only intensifies as she arrives at the edge of the land itself. It is stifling, the air seeming to hold its own weight as it presses against her; she gasps and pants, desperately trying to cool herself down ready for the long labour ahead. She can see an island in the distance, but there's no discernible way to reach it. She draws in a haggard breath and glances hopefully to the sky in search of the king or his phoenix companion, too exhausted to shout his name. She just stands, sweating, aching and fretful, her head hung low and her mane falling in damp strands across her face as she waits for someone, anyone, to come and find her.

Failing that, there's a rather nice shrub nearby that she could use in an emergency, but she'd far rather deliver the child inside the safety of the herd.

[ SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING, SWORD IN HAND, SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED ]


Open, but please let Gaucho post first!

Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.

Ascended Helovian

Gaucho The Wildfire Posts: 1,004
Deceased atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 :: 12 HP: 85 | Buff: PINNACLE
Mara :: Black Mamba Snake :: Paralyze & Vorsa :: Plain Zephyr :: Phoenix Odd
#2

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

Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow
#3

Strong Gaucho, faithful Gaucho; he is quick to arrive, and the grey breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Even Dominus lacks the energy to glower and growl as he normally does at anybody nearing Nyx - he knows that the giant stallion being here is a good thing. He lands and gets to the point, much to the silver's appreciation. There's little time for niceties when she's got a foal wanting to enter the world. "Good to see you," she manages to gasp out. And it is; here is a man who does not know anything of her shame. Here is a man who only knows her on the battlefield and in the bedroom, the two places she's most comfortable - he does not know her as the failed General, the liar, the living embodiment of stupidity. It is a relief to escape from the Edge drama for a few blessed moments, even if she'd rather be doing so when she isn't about to go through almost unbearable pain for the zillionth time.

Suddenly there's a bridge crossing the gap between the mainland and the island, and Gaucho's leading her across it. She follows, forcing a snappiness into her stride so he doesn't think her weak and feeble (even though she is, and just wants to lie down and get this over with). It is tempting to take him up on his offer of support, but she fights against the urge; she must do this alone.

After all, she deserves every iota of suffering and pain; even that is too good for her after what she's done.

He informs her that the Oasis is close, and that sounds like a rather nice place to give birth, but unfortunately her womb has other ideas. They're barely at the other end of the land bridge when a series of crippling contractions inform the silver that she hasn't the time to wander any further, and she begins to lower herself to the ground with an apologetic glance at Gaucho. "Sorry...big journey from Edge. Thought I'd have more....time... The last word is a groan as the most forceful pain yet wracks her stomach, and she knows the birth is imminent. She hopes Gaucho won't look directly at her as she's delivering - she's sure he's seen it all before, but dammit, her fantasy-come-to-life about bedding Helovia's resident warlord does not include a chapter where he watches in disgust as she moans, sweats and bleeds her way into childbirth. He's meant to come strolling along afterwards and see her sweat-free and looking like she's done nothing more than a brisk morning walk; he's meant to think damn, she makes that look easy. He is not meant to be forced to endure every grisly detail.

The silver knows what happens next; she has done this enough times, and nature soon takes over. Her foal arrives in an explosion of pain, heralded by a wave of blood and liquid. One would think that it'd hurt less given how many foals she's borne, but alas, nature is not so kind as to let up its agony for any woman. Still, every throb and sting is worth it when she turns and sees her newborn colt nestled behind her, damp and dark and healthy. The nubs of two horns rest near his ears, and two wet, scraggly wings flop against his sides as he strains feebly against the bonds of his mucus prison. Nyx turns and licks him free, and watches as he takes his first breath of true air; the sight never loses its appeal or awe-inspiring beauty, no matter how many times she sees it.

But she does not have long to appreciate her newest son. She isn't at all surprised when another set of contractions begin to ripple across her stomach, and she gives nothing but a resigned groan as she realises that, once again, nature has damned her to twins.

Mother Nature really needs a punch in the tits, doesn't she?

Still, she reasons as she begins to push again, this is one way to ensure optimum suffering for herself. Twins is like her form of self-flagellation, her way of suffering, her pennance. The second foal slips free in a haze of exhaustion, and she's so weak she can hardly lift her head - not as bad as last time, when lack of food and winter's harshness had almost killed her, but she's painfully feeble and incapable of defending herself should she be attacked (although woe betide the creature who tries to attack her when Gaucho's around), and wants nothing more than a nice long sleep. But she has a foal to clean, and as she turns to admire her newest child, the sight turns her blood cold.

Whereas normally her foals are wrapped in a wet blanket of clear white, this one is dressed in red. Blood red. And it isn't moving.

Panic seizes the grey and she releases an anguished whinny as she begins to frantically lick at the bag, but it does not give beneath her tongue as the last one did. "Gaucho, there's something wrong," she cries, terror in her voice and cold fingers gripping her heart. Is this the Gods' way of punishing her for her sins? Giving her a dead child, a final curse upon her over-worked womb? No, it cannot be, the Gods would not do that, they wouldn't punish an innocent child for the sins of the mother...

But the bag will not break. Nyx rips at it with her teeth, but she hasn't the strength to pierce it with her blunt ivories; she thinks of the glass ones she keeps stashed in her mane, but there isn't time to get them and fumble them on, and she's too weak anyway...

Dominus darts forwards and tears at the bag with his razor-sharp fangs. She has never seen him be so gentle as he carefully avoids nicking the foal's flesh, just in case it's alive. But the filly doesn't gasp her first sweet breath of air; she simply lies prone, and Nyx's terror turns to blind panic. "She's not breathing, she's not breathing!" She barges Dominus out of the way with her head (he's so concerned that he even forgets to complain) and licks the foal's muzzle, throat, stomach, sternum, everywhere she can think of to try and stimulate her into life. But it's not working, her darling daughter is dead - tears blur the silver's eyes as she continues her ministrations, not giving up, refusing to believe that this is happening...

And the filly breathes - a great gasp of fresh Throat air inhaled into fledgling lungs, a huge, body-wracking gulp like a drowned man pulled from the river. It can only have been a handful of seconds between the bag being pierced and the girl's first breath, but it felt like a lifetime.

Relief floods the grey and her head collapses back down to the dry soil. She's shaking, exhausted; she knows she needs to nudge her children to suckle, but she hasn't the energy to do anything but stare blindly at the filly she thought she'd lost.

[ SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING, SWORD IN HAND, SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED ]


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.

Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.


Arakh Posts: 77
Dragon's Throat Stallion atk: 5 | def: 8 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17'2hh :: 2 HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Snow
#4


It's dark, until it's not. It isn't, until it just is. The colt isn't aware of much about the process, except that he's wet and cold and there's a thing rasping across his body, clearing his airways so he can gasp in his first precious gulp of air. He blinks, and light floods his ice-blue irises. He sees lots of different things; there's a sweaty grey lump next to him, the owner of the thing that's licking him, and he instinctively knows her to be his mother. There's a massive hulking someone nearby, and the newborn doesn't know what that is, except that it's big and winged and antlered and scary.

Then there's something next to him, too. Something dressed in red, something still, something not-life. He racks his confused young brain, until he realises that this not-life bundle is the sister who has nestled against him through the long pregnancy, sharing his nutrients, sharing his world.

His mother makes an odd sound, a sound of fear and misery and sorrow. The boy tries to twist around to watch what's happening, somewhat put-out that his dam's attention should leave him so quickly, but this temporary spurt of jealousy is just that - temporary. He wobbles and squirms and wiggles until he can see what's happening, and emits a startled howl as a big white thing dives in to puncture the red bag with razor teeth. Now he can see her - sister-calf, with her nubs of horns and her wings (not that he knows the things sticking out of their shoulders are wings; they're just useless lumps of feathers at the moment), but she's not moving, not gasping the air as he had. Mother licks her, and the colt watches, entranced, as finally she breathes.

This is a relief. He gives a joyous whinny and shuffles closer to his sister, snuggling back against her; entwined just as they'd spent the last dozen months.

Instinct tells him he should try to stand, so he can drink from his mother for the first time, but instinct is overruled in favour of pressing his damp, velvet muzzle into every nook and cranny of his twin. He memorises her, devours each contour and lump and sistery-bit, until he is satisfied that he is reacquainted with her after their several minutes apart. He pokes her with his nose, chirping an odd foal-noise; his way of asking her shall we try this standing business, then? Because he has no intentions of leaving the ground unless she does, too.

THOSE WHO OPPOSE THEE
SHALL KNOW THE WRATH OF HEAVEN
image credit

[ ARAKH ]
Ascended Helovian

Gaucho The Wildfire Posts: 1,004
Deceased atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 :: 12 HP: 85 | Buff: PINNACLE
Mara :: Black Mamba Snake :: Paralyze & Vorsa :: Plain Zephyr :: Phoenix Odd
#5

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
Please tag me in every post! Magic/Force is allowed on Gaucho at any time.


Esinakh Posts: 48
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 7 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.2hh :: 2 HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Sachi :: Plain Rougarou :: Water & Flame smitty
#6
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
image

Please tag Esinakh.

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
#7
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 and kill whatever dares to flee his presence with back turned.
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
credits


@Gaucho


you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed


Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow
#8

The last ebbings of anxiety flow away as her daughter's breathing reaches a steady rhythm. The relief is incomparable. Through the haze of her own pain and exhaustion, she sends up a silent prayer of thanks to all the Gods in the heavens for sparing her child. She'd hardly noticed Gaucho sending eagles of fire out into the Throat in search of a healer, but she hopes one will arrive soon, just to fully ensure that her newborn filly is devoid of any lasting damage from her traumatic birth.

The ironheart knows she should probably stand, but her vast experience of giving birth to twins tells her that any attempts will be futile. It's far safer to remain down here on the ground, rather than risk trying to stand and falling promptly back down on top of her newborns. Now the initial terror has passed, she can observe her second foal as closely as she had with the first. The girl's fur is darker than the boy's, but she shares his petite wings and horn-nubs that mark her as a hybrid. She thrashes to try and rid herself of the remains of the red bag, and Nyx is concerned she may break those fledgling limbs with her flailing, but she knows she cannot be too overprotective. The girl is obviously strong and hardy - weaker foals may have suffocated in their crimson prison.

A healer arrives, then; a champagne-coated mare with blue horns and the kindly aura of one who mends wounds, not creates them. Although protective of her newborns, Nyx nonetheless allows this woman to approach and to sever the filly's cord - something the silver hadn't even thought of doing in her stress and tiredness-addled mind. "Thank you," she breathes, lifting up her head enough to whicker her gratitude before it tumbles heavily back to the ground. The mare - who, from Gaucho's exclamation, Nyx assumes to be called Sikeax - asks what happened, and the silver manages a weak swish of her tail to rid herself of the gathering flies as she ponders her answer. "The first foal - the boy - was fine. His was just a normal birth....but then when the girl came, she was wrapped in a red bag, and I couldn't break it with my teeth so Dominus had to do it....then she wasn't breathing for a couple of seconds, until I licked her. She seems fine now, but...do you think she will be okay?" Concern tints the grey's words as she presses her muzzle softly against her daughter's fur, then moves to the colt as well so he doesn't feel left out. Now the relief has ebbed slightly, she's beginning to fear that the traumatic birth could have lasting consequences for the little girl.

With a laborious groan, the silver shifts her hindleg to expose her teats, and tries to gently nuzzle both children in that general direction so they may have their vital first feed. Normally, the allure of milk is what makes them stand up, but she doesn't think anything too dramatic will happen if she allows them to feed first and then coaxes them to stand.

Her gaze shifts to Gaucho, standing like a great dark sentinel near the little huddle of foals and mares. "Would you like to name them?" After all, Nyx's track record of naming is...not the best. She'd called her last two children after 'misery' and 'war' for heaven's sake, which she now holds a hint of regret over. What sort of bitch-mother damns her children to such morbid names? No, she thinks it safer that these two receive names from a loving father, not an exhausted and vindictive mother.

[ SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING, SWORD IN HAND, SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED ]


@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

Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.

Ascended Helovian

Gaucho The Wildfire Posts: 1,004
Deceased atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 :: 12 HP: 85 | Buff: PINNACLE
Mara :: Black Mamba Snake :: Paralyze & Vorsa :: Plain Zephyr :: Phoenix Odd
#9

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

Esinakh Posts: 48
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 7 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.2hh :: 2 HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Sachi :: Plain Rougarou :: Water & Flame smitty
#10
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
image

I felt the need to reply to this again! <3

Please tag Esinakh.


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