they [ s p u n ] a web for me.

Vesper · 06-26-2012, 11:39 PM

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The blonde girl turned, startled by her approach, and then smiled. It was a fleeting thing, bright but quickly dying, and her admission of feeling gloomy was enough to wipe the smirk off the subleader’s face as well. The mangled skin of her missing ear twitched back in uncertainty, and she started to drop her blue eyes before reminding herself that it wasn’t what she should do. As much as she wanted to run away in situations like this, reminded of her sister and others, she knew she had to stand and face her comrades’ sorrows.

Once, Vesper might have taken the slender young woman in her arms and provided a much more tactile and intimate comfort. It was easier than sharing empty words. However, it was also extremely inappropriate in a multitude of ways, even before her current courtship was involved. And so all she could do was look at the Sepsarii helplessly, cursing the frosty emotional barrier that had fused to become a part of her soul.

And then, all of a sudden, Emmanuelle turned toward her and rested a paw on her belly—a universally recognizable sign. The shortened name and the tentative words made Ves frown, and then the words were out, Emma shrinking back and looking away.

Disbelief struck the coywolf immediately. I’m not the father! she thought almost desperately, and then the ridiculousness of her silent words overtook her confusion.

She shook her head quickly, her brows knitting together in a frown. The other’s confession was surely meant for someone besides the female Centurion. It was useful to know if one of the Infernians was carrying a future generation, but she had never expected for someone to blatantly report such a thing. She had no idea what was expected of her, what protocol to follow, what the hell she should even be thinking as the tawny woman gazed shamefully at the floor.

A number of concerns welled up in her, and Vesper managed a nod that the girl might be able to catch out of the corner of her eye. Obviously Emma was confiding in her because she trusted her, although she couldn’t help but think that Myrika was so much better at this; it was part of why she felt for the Aquila as she did. Just as Ves had the fighting ability and harshness Myri did not, the scholar possessed an innate gentleness and the grace to soothe the beast.

Mismatched eyes met light blue ones, and Emmanuelle admitted that the father was Ángel. It was a startling revelation, only because Vesper had missed any signs that would lead to that. It had to have been a one-night-stand of some sort, especially if Ángel apparently didn’t feel anything for the young mother or her litter.

“Oh, Emma.” The scarred coyote’s expression softened sadly. It was hard to believe, but Vesper was still quite young—not even three years old, only hardened by the life of a loner and the fights she’d seen. Emmanuelle was even younger than her, and being tossed into a war wouldn’t prepare her for the messy conflict of lust and love. Even Ves had been shaken by such feelings, betrayed by Juniper and Blind in a way, although the threat of pregnancy had been nonexistent with her partners. It was just another layer of complication that made her grateful for her own situation.

“What happened?” she prompted, and her voice uncertainly fell into a cadence of comfort. It was still tinged with awkwardness, but she could fake it until she made it, she guessed. She took a couple of uncertain steps closer and rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can force Ángel to do anything if he’s stubborn,” she said, trying to recall what she knew about the Catalan, “but the clan will take care of your pups. You will not be alone.”

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