Eris is by Kiri, a gift from Sylvey!

The shadow-furred lady held her pale son to her breast, smiling down at him. She had been lucky not to shift in the later weeks of her pregnancy, for she had not even been aware of his presence. Perhaps if she had been more aware of her own body. Eris had never been particularly attuned, however, and she had been as surprised as Larkspur at Basilaris's arrival in the world. The tiny child squirmed against her, whimpering with his tiny voice.

The coyote tucked him closer against her, having eyes for only him, though Molcaxitl bustled around the den, and Ataxia sat in the opening of the den, staring gloomily at her mother. Harrow and Artemisia were with their father, or so Eris thought. In truth, they might have been gone all the days since Basilaris's birth and the inky coyote might not have noticed. She had her Basiliaris, her unexpected gift in this world and to this world.

Eris would not take him beyond the entrance to her small abode, of course, but she would not keep him entirely underground, either. With the children, Molcaxitl, and herself, this tiny home had become overcrowded. Even with her slave sleeping outside, the coyote felt suffocated within her home, and she considered shunting her older daughters to live with their father for some time, but the dark-furred coyote did not think the girls would appreciate such. They had seen the way she looked at Basiliaris, and Eris, cautious as she usually was, had abandoned all precautions and given in to her love of this ivory-hued child.

She had sacrificed for him already, even -- a hapless dog with the prettiest golden-yellow fur, ensnared by her tallest scarred Arbiter at her request. The dark-furred woman herself had no use for the pelt, and rather than having Molca cure it, she had left the thing to dangle, bloodied and rotting, by her doorside. It had been there two days before the smell had overwhelmed Molcaxitl to retching, and the slave had timidly insisted -- as far as Molcaxitl could insist, anyway -- her mistress get rid of the thing. Eris had obliged by burning the pelt, and several melted bayberry candles later, her home smelled normal once again, if a little extra fragrant.

The dark woman was determined to shed her own blood for Basilaris's purposes, too. As soon as she was able, she would wrap her arms in the thorned vines which adorned so many areas of their lovely Salsola. She'd bind herself tightly and shed her mother's blood for her son, as they had done in Eterne. This was a ritual the dark-hued woman had wished to engage since forming Salsola, but her pregnancy -- pregnancies -- had prevented such sacrifice from occurring. Now, however, the woman was finished with having children. Much as she loved Basilaris, their family was large enough -- she had carried Larkspur's blood and he hers to the next generation with surety, for with so many of their union, a son or daughter would produce further heirs for their lineage.

The woman looked upon her bonny son with loving eyes, stirring only as Molcaxitl spoke in rapid tones. The hybrid peered up at the slave and saw Bastion standing before her. The man held small and broken white pieces toward her, and spoke in broken words the coyote did not at first comprehend, partially due to Molcaxitl's alarmed chatter. The coyote's head whipped, snakelike, toward the tawny coyote, and her yellow-green eyes burned their message clearly: silence. The slave obeyed with nearly comical instantaneousness, and the coyote returned her gaze to Bastion, standing carefully with Basilaris tucked in her arm.

The puppy still suckled eagerly, unaware of his surroundings, and his mother looked with unprecedented displeasure at her Arbiter, leaning forward to look at the small things he held in his hand. His politeness went unnoticed by the dark-furred woman, who only peered with a mixture of faint disgust and amusement at her Arbiter. Bastion was good at his job, good at what he had claimed, but there were some things in which the man seemed entirely uneducated. Child-rearing, it seemed, was one of them -- and why should Eris not be surprised? She herself would have remembered nothing of closed eyes and milk-teeth were it not for her own children. Bastion had no younger siblings from which to learn, either. Of course he should be so vexed by the sudden loss of Enigma's teeth.

Of course, it was so like Eris to refuse quarter at bizarre and random occasion, as well. Her favor with the Arbiter had not soured, and yet she found herself irritated with the dusky man in his sudden and uninvited entrance and interruption of her adoring glances toward her son. The mask of pleasantry she bore so frequently had dropped, and in its place a devil-snake hissed. Her control, however, was so great she merely lifted one lip toward Bastion, exposing a curved fang in what began as a snarl and quickly ended as a grin, mocking as it was filled with amusement.

Dearest Bastion, she began, shaking her head and lifting one hand to stroke at Basilaris, presenting him with obvious intent. She hoped the pallid Arbiter would see her son for the handsome beauty he was, though she knew none would ever gaze upon her Basiliaris with the adoration she did. There is no need of fixing your Enigma. He's lost his child's teeth, the hybrid explained, the razor's edge of condescension apparent in her upraised muzzle and tail. His milk-teeth. Lift his lip and you'll see -- he has some adult teeth already. Those that have not been replaced will soon sprout, and our dear young Enigma will have a lovely mouth of adult's teeth, she said, her grin broadening with the last sentence. Her tail twitched with additional amusement, and it seemed the hybrid had relaxed just a hair, though a burn still boiled somewhere in her sharp yellow-green eyes, beginning to be sated only by love for her fellow Family.

Eris is by Nat!

Her pale Arbiter, beloved as he was, was vexed by child-rearing. Eris took for granted he did not know the same things she did. He had not raised two litters of children to adulthood, and neither had he seen the births in Eterne. The Kimaris family hadn't celebrated any while Eris had been within Eterne, but the dark-hued woman had visited other families with children, and she had overheard the talk of the young mothers, as well. She had looked upon them with envy, but now, she was glad she had waited to birth children. Larkspur's blood strengthened her own, sure as anything.

The coyote considered his question and shook her head, still stroking at Basilaris. His adult teeth should stay for life. He may still have some milk-teeth, and he'll lose those, but he is not broken, my dear, the hybrid said, stepping forward to extend a hand, intending to reassuringly pat her Arbiter's shoulder if he did not flinch from her touch. You are a worrisome father, Bastion, she said, the smile still playing on her lips. Perhaps you might like to keep them? Enigma may like them when he's older. The suggestion was casual; Eris had not kept the teeth of her younger children, but perhaps she would do so for dear Basilaris.