11-27-2018, 03:18 PM
Leilan
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
By some miracle, this time there's no rubble flung to his head. Then again maybe she's just too tired. He scoffs at her remark, and fat, thanks to you, and shakes his head in pretend-shock. "Breckin, how could you say that? They're alive, not fat!"
How she has never attempted to kill him, knowing it wouldn't last anyway, was also a miracle. She might just not be the type (although... he remembers some sharper nips and the like, which had exactly been what had lead them to this moment... ah, well, attention). He'd gladly do it, though. Take a hit. He knows he'll get a smile out of her most of the time, and that's really worth the work - worth all this idiocy of his.
She knows how to jest in return every now and then, though. Like now. He's finally serious for a moment, and she completely ruins it for herself. Well. Can't be helped then. Making a small tssk-ing sound, he shakes his head at her, gives her a look. "I thought you'd grow a little light for the baby while you're at it." Feigned disappointment crosses his features - sure to receive another of her famous little bites, but on his scales they just don't really leave a mark. Good thing they didn't, he'd probably look the part.
I imagine it's possible they can hear us, she says, and he scowls. "All the more reason not to call them fat." he turns his attention away from her and back on her exposed side, moving his nose over her skin. "Don't worry baby, momma calls me all kinds of things, too." he says then, before moving his head up to rest on her spine with a challenging smile.
It doesn't take long for her to start worrying however - well, at least they're on that point where she voices those worries now. It's something, he supposes. "I know," he says softly. "But Breckin, there'll always be some sort of danger." Cursing himself a bit for saying that word aloud, he presses his lips together for a heartbeat before continuing. "But you're not alone." Heck, even if he himself got preoccupied, she would have others to turn to. He's not planning to, but, well, you know. It's extra reassurance of sorts, to have a family like that. Or, maybe not, if they all decided to meddle with the upbringing of the child. Hmm. Might not want to tell Breckin about that part.
And then she just drops.
Panic. Ears fall flat to his skull when she suddenly slips away from under him, and it's only in a reflex that he's able to crane his neck enough that her head doesn't smash on the rocky ground too hard, probably. She falls and he doesn't know what to do about it, should he even be doing something? Is this normal?
She presses her eyes shut in obvious pain, convulsing almost with the labour of, well, not screaming maybe? All he can do now is try to make her a bit more comfortable, but he doesn't even know how to do that, he has no healing powers or anything, he just has freezing ice, instead of heat to keep her warm - well, body heat is something he has perhaps. He shuffles himself behind her back on the ground, his head below her neck the next time she lifts it in a painful contraction - the rock is quite hard and cold enough for her aching belly to rest on, already; no need for her to make her head more uncomfortable, too.
Luckily for him this is indeed the normal way of things. When a small form starts to pop out; toes first, head following, he finally knows how to breathe normally again, himself. Breckin is still mid-birthing however, and he can't exactly get up to look without having to drop her head. But that's alright. They can look together, after. It doesn't take long any more then, and suddenly the spotted mare shifts weight, and he pulls back his head to look over her shoulder, too.
She moves frantically almost, in cleaning the chocolate filly on the ground. Curious, he wonders where that colour hails from, because it's not exactly bay, but he couldn't care less if it was something Breckin or he, carried in some way. That there, is their daughter. Or Breckin's perhaps even more, having done all the hard work.
He moves to get up, still nostly in awe. "Daina, look what you made,” he whispers. He starts move over to help the girl get clean a little; but Breckin only catches his eye once and when she does, she falls back again. Shock and scare fight to gain the upper hand as he watches that - again, is something wrong? - then only pays attention to her form. Still a little... fat, as she'd called it.
Now might not be a good time to remind her he has a twin sister, or that his mother is a triplet?
This time, it all seems a little quicker, thankfully for Breckin; he has just about enough time to softly muse over the gold-and-brown of the filly; their filly, his daughter. Obvious of course by the gold in her mane, much like Chryseis and Ophanim were marked. This one's his daina's daughter though - a baby deer. She even looks the part.
His eyes lock back on his struggling love, worrying if she has enough energy left to pull through. Why can’t he take some of this pain? Or give her some energy? He extends a nose to touch her, then wavers, falters; better not, perhaps, distract her. Standing a little awkwardly over one baby girl, he just has to wait and watch for the other to be brought into this world also - a dotted one like her mother, but red based instead of black, with a pinkish look to most those spots. Such a contrast to the first. But they're both so, so beautiful. Perhaps even more so than their mother (no, scratch that, just look at her adorable sweaty face). He smiles.
He softly touches Breckin's poll to get her attention back, relief making way for happiness and joy on his face as he looks from her to the two girls she'd bore. Two. He still hardly fathoms. However, it is with a much more abrupt motion that he jolts his face back to hers when she asks him for names. "Uhh... It might be better if you did that..." He'd probably make the worst names ever. Some come to mind instantly, and get dismissed just as quickly as well. Goldilocks, Freckle or Spot, Coco, Chocolate, Hershey, Baby Girl One and Two. No, bad names. Think of others. Leliana, his name twin. Or maybe something fiery, after his mother, Heartfire, and Ea. Damn, but there has to be something he can say. It might be obvious in the way he seems to think, then make a frown, twist an ear, gives a slight shake if the head. No, no, not good enough. A sigh. Giving up on the seriousness of it. ”I only have bad ones. I guess we could always go with Daina? Or, Brecan - nah, sounds boyish. Breli. Oh, I met a Leliana, think that’ll work? Leiliana if that’s better. Maybe just Spot, or Dottie. Fawn. Amber. Honeysuckle. Fluffy? Let’s just call them Minime and Miniyu.“ Rambling, he’s rambling. Should definitely stop. But he just... kinda sets off into a storm of nerves and names that don’t really fit their prettiness. He supposes there is some cuteness in Fawn and Dottie, but, well, that doesn’t seem like a good name to be honest. Not a serious name anyway. ”I’m sorry, I’m tiring you. I give up.” Looking to the three girls on the ground, he feels rather stupid for failing them, ears drooping back into his mane. Can’t even find a good name for the little deerlings.
How she has never attempted to kill him, knowing it wouldn't last anyway, was also a miracle. She might just not be the type (although... he remembers some sharper nips and the like, which had exactly been what had lead them to this moment... ah, well, attention). He'd gladly do it, though. Take a hit. He knows he'll get a smile out of her most of the time, and that's really worth the work - worth all this idiocy of his.
She knows how to jest in return every now and then, though. Like now. He's finally serious for a moment, and she completely ruins it for herself. Well. Can't be helped then. Making a small tssk-ing sound, he shakes his head at her, gives her a look. "I thought you'd grow a little light for the baby while you're at it." Feigned disappointment crosses his features - sure to receive another of her famous little bites, but on his scales they just don't really leave a mark. Good thing they didn't, he'd probably look the part.
I imagine it's possible they can hear us, she says, and he scowls. "All the more reason not to call them fat." he turns his attention away from her and back on her exposed side, moving his nose over her skin. "Don't worry baby, momma calls me all kinds of things, too." he says then, before moving his head up to rest on her spine with a challenging smile.
It doesn't take long for her to start worrying however - well, at least they're on that point where she voices those worries now. It's something, he supposes. "I know," he says softly. "But Breckin, there'll always be some sort of danger." Cursing himself a bit for saying that word aloud, he presses his lips together for a heartbeat before continuing. "But you're not alone." Heck, even if he himself got preoccupied, she would have others to turn to. He's not planning to, but, well, you know. It's extra reassurance of sorts, to have a family like that. Or, maybe not, if they all decided to meddle with the upbringing of the child. Hmm. Might not want to tell Breckin about that part.
And then she just drops.
Panic. Ears fall flat to his skull when she suddenly slips away from under him, and it's only in a reflex that he's able to crane his neck enough that her head doesn't smash on the rocky ground too hard, probably. She falls and he doesn't know what to do about it, should he even be doing something? Is this normal?
She presses her eyes shut in obvious pain, convulsing almost with the labour of, well, not screaming maybe? All he can do now is try to make her a bit more comfortable, but he doesn't even know how to do that, he has no healing powers or anything, he just has freezing ice, instead of heat to keep her warm - well, body heat is something he has perhaps. He shuffles himself behind her back on the ground, his head below her neck the next time she lifts it in a painful contraction - the rock is quite hard and cold enough for her aching belly to rest on, already; no need for her to make her head more uncomfortable, too.
Luckily for him this is indeed the normal way of things. When a small form starts to pop out; toes first, head following, he finally knows how to breathe normally again, himself. Breckin is still mid-birthing however, and he can't exactly get up to look without having to drop her head. But that's alright. They can look together, after. It doesn't take long any more then, and suddenly the spotted mare shifts weight, and he pulls back his head to look over her shoulder, too.
She moves frantically almost, in cleaning the chocolate filly on the ground. Curious, he wonders where that colour hails from, because it's not exactly bay, but he couldn't care less if it was something Breckin or he, carried in some way. That there, is their daughter. Or Breckin's perhaps even more, having done all the hard work.
He moves to get up, still nostly in awe. "Daina, look what you made,” he whispers. He starts move over to help the girl get clean a little; but Breckin only catches his eye once and when she does, she falls back again. Shock and scare fight to gain the upper hand as he watches that - again, is something wrong? - then only pays attention to her form. Still a little... fat, as she'd called it.
Now might not be a good time to remind her he has a twin sister, or that his mother is a triplet?
This time, it all seems a little quicker, thankfully for Breckin; he has just about enough time to softly muse over the gold-and-brown of the filly; their filly, his daughter. Obvious of course by the gold in her mane, much like Chryseis and Ophanim were marked. This one's his daina's daughter though - a baby deer. She even looks the part.
His eyes lock back on his struggling love, worrying if she has enough energy left to pull through. Why can’t he take some of this pain? Or give her some energy? He extends a nose to touch her, then wavers, falters; better not, perhaps, distract her. Standing a little awkwardly over one baby girl, he just has to wait and watch for the other to be brought into this world also - a dotted one like her mother, but red based instead of black, with a pinkish look to most those spots. Such a contrast to the first. But they're both so, so beautiful. Perhaps even more so than their mother (no, scratch that, just look at her adorable sweaty face). He smiles.
He softly touches Breckin's poll to get her attention back, relief making way for happiness and joy on his face as he looks from her to the two girls she'd bore. Two. He still hardly fathoms. However, it is with a much more abrupt motion that he jolts his face back to hers when she asks him for names. "Uhh... It might be better if you did that..." He'd probably make the worst names ever. Some come to mind instantly, and get dismissed just as quickly as well. Goldilocks, Freckle or Spot, Coco, Chocolate, Hershey, Baby Girl One and Two. No, bad names. Think of others. Leliana, his name twin. Or maybe something fiery, after his mother, Heartfire, and Ea. Damn, but there has to be something he can say. It might be obvious in the way he seems to think, then make a frown, twist an ear, gives a slight shake if the head. No, no, not good enough. A sigh. Giving up on the seriousness of it. ”I only have bad ones. I guess we could always go with Daina? Or, Brecan - nah, sounds boyish. Breli. Oh, I met a Leliana, think that’ll work? Leiliana if that’s better. Maybe just Spot, or Dottie. Fawn. Amber. Honeysuckle. Fluffy? Let’s just call them Minime and Miniyu.“ Rambling, he’s rambling. Should definitely stop. But he just... kinda sets off into a storm of nerves and names that don’t really fit their prettiness. He supposes there is some cuteness in Fawn and Dottie, but, well, that doesn’t seem like a good name to be honest. Not a serious name anyway. ”I’m sorry, I’m tiring you. I give up.” Looking to the three girls on the ground, he feels rather stupid for failing them, ears drooping back into his mane. Can’t even find a good name for the little deerlings.
you set my soul alight
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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