08-03-2009, 12:15 PM
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Here comes the first puppeh, ^=^ It’s Honor, so he’s black with white around his shoulders and chest (like Corvus)
500+
He found her hand, grasping it tightly in his own. Her eyes briefly sought his, her ears straining to hear his voice above the loud sounds of her mind. A soft smile of silver and of gold graced her maw, her jaws parted to drink in the air that for once did not seem to be enough. I’ll stay with you, the white orbs sang. But then her mind receded, slipping back to permit a purely lupine state to overtake her. She fought to keep her breathing level, and she fought to remember to breathe. Such things that had once been effortless seemed to take all the effort of her will, but she made that effort without thought. And as those contractions and those waves of pain grew to near unbearable heights, her grasp upon his hand squeezed tightly. But her mind no longer registered his presence.
The warrior’s vision was narrowed in her concentration. Had she been been alone, her vulnerability would have been complete. But she was not alone. Her hand grasped Onus’ tightly, her grip both a connection and a way in which to relieve the pain. And, although in the latter case her grip did nothing to alleviate such a thing, she continued anyway, unknowing of the strength actually extended to that single hold. Something brushed against her face, and her eyes lifted to see as a soft growl pushed through the laboring breaths. And the laboring female found that the Caregiver had come uttering her name. But she did not respond save with but a brief glance, relieved that she had come. Alexey would know what to do—the warrior was certain of it. And with these thoughts, she slipped back into those throes of instinct, feeling every ounce of strength not her own pushing up against her wishing to be birthed.
Then, suddenly, it was as if the warrior had regained some control. It is time to help them, instinct whispered. And so she did, and the world around her became insignificant and the two creatures with her were forgotten. The laboring fae pushed, aiding the lives in their need to be released. She exhaled and inhaled, her breath sharp as if there were not enough time for such a thing. And she pushed. A harsh intake of the cool, night air was taken as water is taken by the parched land. And she pushed, forcing them from her and ending in a short, sharp cry of pain and relief both. She could feel it—a life had been given into this world by her womb. There was a brief smile that graced her maw, and, although she wished to look upon the life she had given, she could not. Although she wished to lick and clean and encourage the life to persevere, she could not. Already, the another was trying to emerge. Beads of perspiration dampened her fur and darkened the woad, but her eyes gleamed with that feral determination to complete what two moons had created.
500+
He found her hand, grasping it tightly in his own. Her eyes briefly sought his, her ears straining to hear his voice above the loud sounds of her mind. A soft smile of silver and of gold graced her maw, her jaws parted to drink in the air that for once did not seem to be enough. I’ll stay with you, the white orbs sang. But then her mind receded, slipping back to permit a purely lupine state to overtake her. She fought to keep her breathing level, and she fought to remember to breathe. Such things that had once been effortless seemed to take all the effort of her will, but she made that effort without thought. And as those contractions and those waves of pain grew to near unbearable heights, her grasp upon his hand squeezed tightly. But her mind no longer registered his presence.
The warrior’s vision was narrowed in her concentration. Had she been been alone, her vulnerability would have been complete. But she was not alone. Her hand grasped Onus’ tightly, her grip both a connection and a way in which to relieve the pain. And, although in the latter case her grip did nothing to alleviate such a thing, she continued anyway, unknowing of the strength actually extended to that single hold. Something brushed against her face, and her eyes lifted to see as a soft growl pushed through the laboring breaths. And the laboring female found that the Caregiver had come uttering her name. But she did not respond save with but a brief glance, relieved that she had come. Alexey would know what to do—the warrior was certain of it. And with these thoughts, she slipped back into those throes of instinct, feeling every ounce of strength not her own pushing up against her wishing to be birthed.
Then, suddenly, it was as if the warrior had regained some control. It is time to help them, instinct whispered. And so she did, and the world around her became insignificant and the two creatures with her were forgotten. The laboring fae pushed, aiding the lives in their need to be released. She exhaled and inhaled, her breath sharp as if there were not enough time for such a thing. And she pushed. A harsh intake of the cool, night air was taken as water is taken by the parched land. And she pushed, forcing them from her and ending in a short, sharp cry of pain and relief both. She could feel it—a life had been given into this world by her womb. There was a brief smile that graced her maw, and, although she wished to look upon the life she had given, she could not. Although she wished to lick and clean and encourage the life to persevere, she could not. Already, the another was trying to emerge. Beads of perspiration dampened her fur and darkened the woad, but her eyes gleamed with that feral determination to complete what two moons had created.