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@Gawen @Lotherarius
the Rift
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[OPEN] The Labor of Love [Birthing]
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08-21-2016, 05:16 PM
@Gawen @Lotherarius
08-21-2016, 07:45 PM
The world he knows is quiet and comfortable, an encompassing darkness that moves and rocks with the motions of his mother. His activity is born only of simple desires and motives, stress and excitement. He is beginning to learn emotion, and his heart beats firm with strong, healthy life. His wings are small and cramped, but most of his surroundings are cramped, so he knows nothing else. He has no awareness of the great, wide world that awaits him. The skies and the birds he will fly among, the cliff he is born on that he will leap off one day, courageous and trusting in the strength of his wings. He does not even have a name, as of yet. But change comes, as change always comes. And he knows with an odd, detached certainty that it is his time. The whole experience is rather odd and uncomfortable for the tiny creature, but he is born on a warm summer day with the ocean breeze tickling his thin, fluttering nostrils. The sun encourages his wings and feathers to fluff and dry, and the elements croon and welcome him with their song; the wind whistling through the grass, the waves crashing against the bleached rock, the cicadas and birds singing. And alongside it all is his mother's touch, instinctual as she grooms and showers him in her scent and love. Tiny nose snuffles, blind eyes reaching for warm skin, unwilling to reveal blue eyes against the blinding strike of the sun through the trees. There is another creature, another soft touch, and he familiarizes himself with the scent as if this creature is simply another mother. Little wings shift and shudder, tiny nub of a horn like a lump of obsidian on his forehead as he finally peeks his eyes open to meet the sun. His mother is a vision backlit by the sunlight, subtle hues of pink and gold shining in her skin, mouth stretched into a smile and eyes warm with love. And beside her, a dark creature with flowering horns, as much family to him as Raeden. And finally he is given a name, a title, and he blows air out his nose in a little snuffle at the sound of his mother's voice. Gawen. Battle hawk, his name means. But for now he is nothing but a child, and he kicks tiny legs at the earth, trying to stand. Fluffy tail sways at his hindquarters as his butt swings through the air, forelegs still on the earth as he tries to figure out this whole "walking" thing. Tottering a few inches only to slump back to the earth with a little bleat of surprise, head casting around for his mother's guidance as hunger rumbles in his belly. So this is life. I won't just survive Oh, you will see me thrive Can't write my story, I'm beyond the archetype Image Credits
 so i listen to the wind for an answer There seems to be quite a few new babies in the Edge now. First Arah and Tilney’s child, though Lyanna hadn’t gone to that particular birth. By the time she’d found out, she figured there was already quite the crowd and with Tilney a Doctor, she wasn’t worried about making sure there was a healer present. And Raeden she honestly didn’t know about (actually there are probably quite a few others she doesn’t know about, they need a list so she can keep track) They didn’t talk really, didn’t have much of a reason to interact, and so Lyanna hadn’t seen the mare recently enough to know to keep tabs on her. Maybe at the meeting, but she’d been distracted with Orithia and Arah and you know, everything else going on. Yea, let’s just leave that one at that. So honestly, it’s by sheer luck that she finds Raeden and the foal. Okay, maybe not entirely luck, maybe more due to the fact that she really likes flying off the cliff. She can’t really fly in the kingdom, given all the trees. But it’s rather easy to take off from the cliff, and easy enough to land in the clearing that exists in the area. So that’s exactly what she’s up to today. Flying. Despite the heat and the blistering sun and whatever else. Why? Because it’s what she does. It’s the thing that makes her feel like herself. Though in truth, she’s starting to just feel like herself. Like she has a place here, like this version of her life is the one she was always meant to live. The smell of birth, something she’s vaguely familiar with, and a voice catches her attention as she lands. She turns course, trying to find the mare in question, moving slowly to make sure she doesn’t interrupt anything. But her timing seems to be good (for once). The mare is on her feet, and she catches sight of the foal trying to stand as well. She nickers slightly, pausing for a moment to make sure they know she’s there before approaching any closer. ”He’s beautiful,” she ways with a smile, looking at the boy who, from a cursory glance, seems to be healthy. “I’m Lyanna, one of the Moon Doctors.” She waits a beat, making sure the mare is fine with her presence, before considering going closer. “What’s his name?” she asks, taking a closer peek at the boy. He seems fine, really, just unsteady on his feet. As he should be. “And how are you feeling?” It looks like Raedan was doing rather well, all things considered. Not too much blood, she was standing well enough. But still, Lyanna wants to check. Because she can help, if needed. She was growing more used to the magic, but still, having some wind power back was like heaven to her. She honestly enjoyed using it, and more so when the situation wasn’t dire. lyanna  Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki
@Lyanna @Gawen
09-01-2016, 04:13 PM
Black nostrils, dark against the pale velvet on his muzzle, flare as his great skull rose. Another birth? A shadow passed beneath his navy eyes—a reminder that his own progeny was not within the herd’s borders—before lightening at the remembrance of the last Edge birth he had been at. Little Maude had been sweet and captivating; nature’s admonition for the Elephant: new life is beautiful, regardless of how you feel. So the shadow that flitted across his brow was short-lived. And his massive cream limbs moved quickly towards the source of afterbirth’s distinctive aroma. And it took him…closer to the cliffs? What mother gave birth near such perilous heights? A foal trying to stand on unsteady, wobbly legs surely needed safer surroundings. His heavy, ivory hooves beat a faster rhythm on the Edge’s rich, moist soil. He felt the brine grow stronger on the breeze, nostrils flaring as he neared the mare and newborn on the cliffs. His brows raise the moment he cleared the trees, finding his beautiful and pale gold Specter laying amid childbirth and embracing a tawny splashed, winged child. His navy eyes glance towards the Moon Doctor already present, “Lyanna,” was his low, brief greeting. Though relief and approval shone in both eyes and laced his deep rumble at a healer already being present for the birth. He was glad the dark, teal-accented beauty was a Doctor of the Edge. But his attention shifted, as it should, to the mare and babe. Despite the pains of labor, Raeden still looked beautiful, glowing in the light of motherhood. And her child—he was already a handsome bundle of creams, browns, and greys(that would darken to blacks, he thought). “A handsome colt, Raeden,” his low voice rolled in the small gathering, though his eyes and body shifted to be between the cliff’s precarious drop and the colt, “And Gawen is a fine name.” His lopsided grin was warm as his head dropped to the level of the colt, a soft nicker of greeting given to the newborn. The Edge was growing, and the Elephant’s elation glowed from his dark eyes.   Please tag Tembovu.
so i listen to the wind for an answer The mare is polite, beckoning Lyanna closer and introducing herself as Raeden, and the boy as Gawen. The warrior hawk. She looks at the boy and smiles at that. “Fitting name for him.” The wings certainly fit the bill for his name, and he seemed strong and healthy, certainly capable of becoming a warrior one day. Maybe a bit clumsy, but he should be. She’d be rather surprised if she found a foal that stood and walked on the first try. “He seems quite healthy,” she offers, “And if you would like, I can certainly help restore some of your strength.” Though really, all things considered, Momma and Baby were doing quite well. She’d seen worse, though that was long ago, when she was a princess and not a healer. The boy looks to his mother, and Tin and Raeden take to helping him stand. Lyanna steps back, staying out of their way as the boy learns how to get his feet under him. After a moment, Raeden looks to her and asks if foals are always this clumsy. Lyanna laughs lightly, a pleasant sound, something that’s more of a smile than anything else. She is obviously not laughing at the question, or the boy. “Usually, yes. Some get it a little faster than others, but so far, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. According to my mother, it took all three of her children forever to stand. She says wings throw off a foals balance, though with my mother, that might have been an old wives tale. Like being cold makes you sick. Though I’ll certainly stick around till we make sure he’s on his feet.” Just in case, but she didn’t think there was any cause for worry yet. Raeden also mentions the boy’s father, and though Lyanna doesn’t want to pry, she also wants to help. “Whos’s the stallion? When you no longer need me, I can see if I can find him.” Depending on who it was, or how far she’d have to travel. But wings did make it easier. But soon, Tembovu is there as well, and she nods in his direction, a respectful mini-bow of sorts. “Tembovu,” she says warmly. She’s always been curious exactly what passed between him and Alysanne, but still, she has no personal reason to dislike their King, and so she doesn’t. Attention shifts back to Raeden and the child, as it should, and Lyanna turns her teal eyes back in that direction, watching the boy. lyanna @Gawen, @Tembovu, @Raeden eek, sorry for the waits guys! Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki
The first thing Gawen realizes is that people talk. A lot. In the future he will wonder if the terribly verbose entrance to his life is what causes him to become so reticent with his own words, but for now it just sounds like angry wasps as the words fly senselessly over his head. Not that he'd call their voices wasps, the women are quite melodic after all, but the words themselves hold no meaning to the newborn except the shape of their sounds. All he really cares about is getting his butt up off the ground! His fine-boned Arabian lineage has not yet filled out with his father's Andalusian blood, and his knobby-kneed self is pretty useless at standing he is beginning to realize as his second attempt ends him with sprawled spread-eagled across the earth, tiny wet wings fluttering in surprise. He hates this already. Two familiar scents converge upon him, his mother and her companion using their noses to gently guide him upward. For a moment Gawen thinks he might have this whole "standing" business down pat, tiny brown hooves planted unsteadily in the earth, and an excited little rumble of noise echoes in his throat. But then he goes to eagerly take a step forward towards his mother, little belly still demanding nourishment, and goes toppling headfirst into the soil, butt and legs kicking in the air as he eats dirt. A whine of pain leaves him, shifting to his knees as he sits unhappily on the earth, not wanting to try again but instinct driving him forward nonetheless. A distraction is presented by a new scent, muskier and manlier than the ones he is surrounded by. Finally, at last, there are no words. The stallion does not speak to him in a language Gawen does not yet understand, instead nickering in his deep voice down at the newborn hawk. Gawen lifts his piercing blues to the face before him, and something instinctual in him cries with joy and recognition. Father, his mind tells him, for the man is dark in hue like Gawen and the first to arrive and acknowledge the boy. His mind knows no better, latching onto the Elephant King like a newborn duckling. The boy gives a high-pitched whinny in response, eagerly returning this kind greeting as his forelegs kick out against the dirt in excitement. His mother's soft words encourage him once more, and he kicks up into a standing position, wobbling towards the King on shaking legs, wanting to associate the man's scent as Gawen had done with Raeden. Instead he ends up slamming face first into the stallion's impressive shoulder, a squeal dying in this throat at the unpleasant sensation as he slides to his knees against the King, head cocked up against the pale limb to try and stare up at the stallion, feeling quite dejected as a sad, warbling noise crawls from his tongue. But he is finally close enough to scent him, rubbing his little nose across the man and happily categorizing him alongside Raeden. Mother and father. With this task accomplished he shimmies up the unicorn, shamelessly propping himself up against the King's solid body to a stand. He sways drunkenly towards his mother, satisfied with his abysmal progress and driven once more by his belly. He stumbles his way to her, grunting and whining as he fetches up against her, nose jabbing into her poor belly as he searches for nourishment. This whole "living" thing is terribly annoying business, and he is yet unconvinced of its benefits. I won't just survive Oh, you will see me thrive Can't write my story, I'm beyond the archetype Image Credits
09-05-2016, 10:42 PM
@Tembovu
His ears twitched at the colt’s high-pitched, eager whinny in response to his own, deep nicker. A grin grew across his muzzle, warm navy meeting piercing blue. The Elephant snorted at the dirt the colt’s excited forelimbs kick into the air near his nostrils, moving his lowered head slightly out of the way as the ungainly, splashed colt lurched to his long, knobby limbs. His skull reached out towards the limply hanging, still-wet wings the war hawklet wobbled directly for him; relief spasmed in his chest that he had chosen to move between the colt and the cliff’s sheer drop. But the King does not touch the colt, for the newborn was slamming into his broad shoulder and crashing to his knees with a strangled squeal. The sound morphed into a sad warble, and Tembovu chuckled, the rich and warm sound reverberating from deep in his barrel. His head dropped to the small, tawny and cream head that was propped against his thick column of a leg. Thick lips ruffled in the colt’s fluffy forelock, before his muzzle dropped to gently blow into the colt’s nostrils, trading scents. Though such an endearing moment did not last long, for the audacious little colt was stumbling back to his small, soft hooves once again, shamelessly bolstering against the Elephant’s leg. The King was glad to see him aim for Raeden’s teat, though, for the first feed was the most important. Tembovu’s attention shifted to Raeden as she answered Lyanna’s questions about Gawen’s father—and voiced a concern for the colt having a father. “I would be honored to step in a Gawen’s father, Raeden,” his deep rumble was soft, dark eyes searching her silver-teal eyes before dropping to watch the speckled hawklet nurse, “If you’d allow it.” The words were tacked on, nearly guilty, as an ear splayed sideways and a darting glance was given towards Lyanna. Had he overstepped his duty as King? He wasn’t sure, but the colt’s antics had wormed his way into the Dorobian’s broad chest. @Lyanna Please tag Tembovu.
09-19-2016, 10:17 AM
so i listen to the wind for an answer He might be slightly clumsier than the average foal. Not that Lyanna was particularly worried about it. He was getting there, figuring out how to use their rather solid King as a leaning post and finally making it to his mother. As long as he eats, and can get around (even if he steps are unsteady), she doesn’t fret. This isn’t a herd that’s being chased by predators, they don’t need to keep on the move. He has time, in a way other children might not, to be comfortable on his feet. When she looks back to Raeden, she notices the tears in her eyes, though they are quickly shuffled away as Tembovu appears, and they talk for a moment, Lyanna’s eyes drifting back to watch the newborn as he stumbles toward his mother. Her ears flick back to Raeden at the mention of herbs, and Lyanna shakes her head slightly. “Not on me, but I could certainly grab some. Actually, hang on…” She takes a few small steps away from the group without much of an explanation, hoping the boy isn’t watching as she dives off the cliff, wings spread to take her down to the coast. She’s not gone too long, coming back with a red seaweed, oddly called moss, clutched in her mouth. She joins the little group again, dropping the moss near Raeden. “Should help a bit,” she says, thinking that would do the trick. Along with a good nights sleep. Raeden goes on to answer her question about the boy’s father though, and Lyanna’s mind stops running through a mental log of herbs, listening instead to what she says about the stallion. Not one she was familiar with, though it didn’t seem like he’d be hard to find. Before she can add anything, Tembovu speaks up, offering to act as the boy’s father. Lyanna gives him a glance, appreciation in that look, but doesn’t say anything more. She’d be happy to look for the boy’s father should Raeden want, but for now, this might be the best way. Tembovu was here, all the time, and would be a good role model. So she waits to see what Raeden says. lyanna @Gawen, @Tembovu, @Raeden Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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