With bells ringing in our ears
#1
Backdated to 19th sorry it took me so long to get this up. Ivory and Ebony will come first -dead, then a female giuseppe look alike-dies after a few minutes and then a giuseppe/gemma mix with brown fur and white spots that remains alive.

The pain was sharp as it cut into the muscles of her stomach and the soft femme gasped out loud, clutching at the bulge of her belly and leaning heavily against a large rock. Gemma was in the place where she and Matteo had talked all that time ago, where they had shared a kiss brought of confusion and a strange kindred feeling. She panted harshly, hocked by the strength of the pain that rippled through her form, the other two times had not been this painful. She was referring to the actual process of birthing instead of the jackawolf hybrid that had been beating into her young bod with his huge fists. Gabriel had taken her first children from her before they even had a chance to grow fully, her father's children and her own half siblings had entered the world as a bloody mess of half formed bodies. Then he had chained her to a tree in the middle of a desert, to be kept alive only by his mercy and impregnated her a second time, stress had killed her second litter, stress and dehydration.

She groaned as the slicing sharpness cut through her thoughts, shattering her minds cognitive skills until all that remained was the overwhelming need to rid her body of the tiny masses inside his, to destroy the pain that threatened to be her undoing. The woman turned so that her back was pressed against the rock and slid down it until she rested on the floor with her legs played out awkwardly in front of her. She breathed in sharply and the exhale was filled with a slew of words, mostly inaudible garble but within the rush of voice some could be made out,

"Ann, Ann help me. Sister, please, help me." It was not the mother that hated her or the father that abused her who she cried out to help for, but her sister. Lovely, sweet Ann who had stood by her when their other two sisters had taken their mother's side against her, who had taken beatings for her and harsh words, who had loved her when no one else did. But Ann was not here and Gemma was alone with her agony and the sound of the waves washing up the beach.
#2
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Matteo bolts to the rescue a few minutes too late.

Word Count → 000


Matteo was wired. He hadn't been able to sleep the night before and come morning he still felt wide awake, completely alert. Come late morning, he was comepletely restless and had to get out of the caves for some fresh air. Maybe I'll calm down if I go for a walk. Camilla was left in the den to her own devices. Matteo needed some time alone.

He went running. Not just patrolling or hunting or anything of the sort. He went sprinting through the woods at top speed in his lupus form, trying to work out his frustrations though his muscles protested at every step and leap. His feet guided him on their own, towards the beach he'd spent so much time at. He wasn't sure why, but something in his gut told him that's where he had to be. But why the beach?

His answer came in the form of a cry, one he knew all too well, one he dreaded. Gemma. His aimless sprinting turned for the nearest way down to the beach. In a leap of faith, he hoisted himself over the edge of the rockface and down the couple dozen feet into the waters below. He surfaced with a gasp and swam for shore, sore and tired from his run but still wired and ready for whatever dangers were threatening his estranged lover.

As he climbed out of the waters, dripping wet and already in mid-shift (into his secui form, no less), the sight that greeted him left him cold. Gemma was on her back, obviously in pain and begging for help from some... Ann person. Her sister, apparently, though the words didn't actually register in the albino's mind.

He was at her side in an instant, Secui form forgotten in favor of his optime form. Gemma. Gemma, cosa c'è di sbagliato? Cosa è successo? Bambina, talk to me. He spoke in rushed Italian, not even realizing he hadn't been speaking English. The rushed, frantic, worried tone spoke more than his mangled and mixed words. The autumn wind on his wet pelt was cold but he didn't notice. All he cared about was ripping the face off of whoever triggered her pain... and making sure she and the pups were okay. God, please don't do this...


Image courtesy of Dirk-Jan Kraan@Flickr; coding by the Mentors

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#3
Also forgot to mention that Gemma has blonde hair now XD
3+

She fancied herself that she heard some kind of splash further out into the water and her eyes widened as her imagination conjured up all sorts of fanciful things. Sea creatures or a boat coming in to rest or anything else that she couldn't even begin to comprehend. The white female tried to push herself back but there was nowhere to go, the rock that was at her back stretched for a foot or so in either direction to her, she was trapped here on the beach to face whatever was coming. Her labored breathing was the only sound she could hear apart from the splashing of whatever it was and the sound of the waves.

She slumped in relief as the similarly ivory form of Matteo came into view from the sea, had he jumped from the cliff? The female wondered in amazement but didn't show any of this on her face as the coydog came rushing up to her frantic and speaking Italian which she could not understand. For the longest time she didn't answer him, the red hot blinding pain keeping her silent but then she managed to gasp out between panted breaths,

"It's..time..for them to..come..into this...world." A lull in the pain and her now sandy blonde hair was swept up out of the way and secured with the woven red bracelet around her wrist, revealing itself as a hair tie as well as a bracelet. The bag that she had dropped to the side when sliding down the rock was now pulled closer and a woolen blanket was brought out of it, all folded up, it would serve as a towel of sorts to clean them of sand and later she would wash it and they would lie on its woven surface to keep warm. The woman let out a groan of discomfort as the pain returned full force as a another contraction rippled through her body.
#4
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Teo + Gemma in labor - Any Medics = Derpa. Big Grin Souls Math!

Word Count → 000


This wasn't good. Matteo knew about as much about child birth as he did about polar bears; almost nothing. At least her response to his being there wasn't terrible. He could act naturally as things progressed without worrying about her hating on him at every turn. To her answer, earned a rather stupid Oh. as response as he slacked his shoulders a bit and became a touch less defensive... if shocked.

Time to have kids. Oh dear.

He'd expected Demi to be around whenever the day came that he'd have children being delivered. The medic was dead though, and the other medically inclined wolves in his pack were far away, back in their cavernous home. With Gemma in so much pain and having had such bad luck with previous litters, it was basically all up to him to deliver the pups safely.

Except he had no idea what he was doing. He knew... the very basics; blanket to keep them clean and warm, the woman had to have her legs spread and she had to be told to push... but... but when? When did she push? He didn't know how to handle this. But... the kids...

As if straight out of a cheesy sitcom, he stoned up, brushing some sand out of her hair carefully as he did to distract him. Just... Just help me out here, okay? Tell me what to do. He hated to admit that he was as lost as a kid about this but Gemma had experience over him. Maybe she'd be able to coach him through it when she wasn't distracted by the pain. You.. You gotta keep breathing though, okay? In... out...

He took little breaths like he'd seen back home once, when his aunt had given birth. A sort of... hee-hee-hoo rythyme if he remembered correctly. He mimiced it a moment so she'd catch on, then dared a glance to the source of all his emotional stress. In... and out... He murmured, trying to get his act together. This was going to be a hell of a long day.


Image courtesy of Dirk-Jan Kraan@Flickr; coding by the Mentors

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#5
hehe derp calm yo tits matteo XD
i promise gemma wont suddenly drop a sprog when she sends him off to find water XD
3+

She breathed in an out calmly while Matteo flustered himself around her trying to be of some help to her but the Zepar knew this was her job alone to do. Someone of with medical knowledge or indeed someone who had seen a birth before would have been of some help instead of the wildly innocent Matteo. She didn't have the energy to engage in foolish trivialities today, not when she was struggling to bring her children into the world safe and unharmed. She watched through half lidded eyes and a hazy red mist as he slowly worked himself up into a panic and then further embarrassed himself by attempting to show her how to breathe. Under normal circumstances she would have snapped and snarled and sent him away, but she could not because as much as she hated it she needed him to be here, if anything went wrong with the pups or if she sudden;y died or anything like that, she would prefer Giuseppe to be here.

With a sigh she opened her eyes fully, wincing every now and again,

"Calm down please. You're not helping by panicking. I know what i'm doing and my body knows when to do thing. I've given birth alone before and in worse circumstances than this, so just calm yourself." With her piece said she relaxed against the rock again, savoring the sound of silence and the sweeping waves as they washed onto the shore, then her eyes popped open again and she reached blindly for her bag and then groped about inside of it. The woman needed to drink, something, anything other than sea water. Her hand tightened over the bottle she had found and with a triumphant snort she pulled it free.

"Could you..fill this...for me...I need to...drink." Dehydrated there was a large risk of the birth taking even longer and endangering all their lives.
#6
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Word Count → 310 :: Derpa!

Gemma's controled voice calmed him down quickly. If she were able to bark at him like that, then she wasn't in a totally dire condition. He could take a moment to breath.

Figuratively speaking, anyway.

She handed him a bottle and asked for water. He glanced around as he took it, murmuring in agreement. Teo wasn't aware of any streams or rivers nearby, but apparently he'd have to find one. Rather than running off on two legs like normal, he moved the bottle to his mouth (holding it firmly between sharp teeth) and darted off on all fours, an arkward gaint but far more effective than two legs.

He didn't dare go far, keeping Gemma within viewing range as he trailed along the grassy edge of the beach, nose flaring for the scent of fresh water. Eventually he found just that, in a free-flowing stream coming down from the forest. Darting over, he filled the bottle quickly and stuck it back in his mouth, shut tight.

He was only gone a minute, crouching beside her again and unscrewing the bottle. Are you fine to sit up? His voice was airy from the sprinting, the situation now calmer than before. Choking is a bad idea right now. A stupid, weak grin followed his poorly timed joke, but he meant well.

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#7
fail -.-

As the man she wanted to both bed and possibly kill disappeared from her sight, pale fingers shook as though cold or from shock but it was neither that forced the coywolf to shake so violently, it was fear. Behind her soul blue eyes a cornucopia of horrors awaited to ravage her pain addled mind; he was here, here to torture her again, to punish her for living and for giving herself to another man. The man with the dark grey body and black colored paws. Her whimper was a quiet silted sound, he had hated any unnecessary noise and had punished her severely for any and every peep she made, so yes, pale hands shook as she tried to contain her voice, his ghostly form prowled, eyes leering at her, only in her mind however for the jackalwolf was still alive somewhere.

In answer to his question she pushed herself up slightly to lean back against the rock and his attempt at a joke was met with a blank but pain filled stare. Silently she took the bottle from him
and took a long drink from it, feeling the water fill her empty stomach, she had not eaten for several hours and felt this down acutely.
#8
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Word Count → 310 :: Short. x:

He sat there numbly, ears flat on either side and eyes never leaving her. His brows were pinched in concern, fear even. A few days ago, they had been so close to mauling eachother, all because of Giuseppe. Though the thought didn't linger in his head long enough for him to feel guilt for it, he did wish he'd never done it.. and hoped she wouldn't hold his temper against him.

...feeling better? He tried quietly, keeping his hands to himself but wanting to desperately to brush her hair back, to touch, to comfort her somehow. I mean, I know it's not done.. obviously... but did the water help? He felt absolutely useless all of a sudden. Hopefully he'd be able to help her through this more than just giving her water and watching from afar...

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#9
7+

Snowy white audits echoed his as they lay flat against her head as they stared at each other. So much had been said between them, none of it could be taken back and it was more than likely he would never know just how much what he had snarled had hurt her... popping out corpses. Those three words rung around her head like a mosquito's buzzing, unshakable and horrifying. The pale woman was the first to break the impromptu staring contest between them and look away towards the sea, her nose twitched and trembled as though she were about to cry. Her words were soft and quiet, tinged with the agony that was coming from her stomach,

"Yes. Thank you." Her breaths were shallow and quick, drawing in as little air as possible with each inhale so she didn't have to suffer through the expanding and contracting of her stomach. She turned her gaze downwards in confused fascination to watch the disturbing distortion of her stomach as the contractions rippled through her. Then new pain hurt her and she was suddenly blinking back the water that gathered in her eyes, she didn't want to cry, not in front of him, but it was almost too much for the coywolf to bear, it had not hurt this much the last two times so something must be wrong, what Gemma had no knowledge of was that the increasing amount of pain she felt was in fact an indicator that everything was fine, never before had children progressed to such a large state inside of her, and giving birth to half formed puppies was significantly less painful and stress causing on the body although being punched repeatedly in the stomach and face whilst it was happening did not improve anything.

Her cries became increasingly more incensed until she was screaming around the harsh shallow breaths, the urge to push bared down upon her and she followed nature's call. The blue of her eyes almost glowed with their torment, the pupils of black shrinking away to barely nothing. At last after what felt like hours of pushing at them pressure increased and then decreased twice in quick succession, despite her exhausted state she was quick to lean forwards and pick up the two tiny balls, cleaning them thoroughly with deft swiped of her tongue, sad and blood alike brushed away. She didn't spare a thought for Matteo or what he might think of such crude, and probably disgusting to him, methods. These were her young, she was not a silly maiden to be pampered over and preened about, she could take care of herself and her own on her own.

She quickly realised that the two pups were closer in size to the half formed children she had given birth to before than the size of normal puppies, no shocked cries came from their mouths or breath from their bodies which were only warm from heat absorbed inside of her, they were dead and had been for quite some time. Alive only to grow the shortest amount of fur on their tiny forms, one black as night and the other as pale as herself and the coydog beside her, a boy and a girl, like night and day. The troubled femme nuzzled the two empty of life forms and whispered to them under her breath, noticing at the same time as she breathed in that they smelt faintly of him, the one beside her, he was thier sire then,

"No child of mine shall pass unto the fade unnamed, they are all I can give you now. Blackest of nights like burnished basalt, Ebony Sawtooth, my daughter, you are loved. Gleaming of the whitest clouds like powdery chalk, Ivory Sawtooth, my son, you are loved as well." Her nose flared as she breathed in their individual scents deeply, she would forever remember them like she did the other eight that had already passed on. Only now did she look up from them to remember the pale man sat near her and held out the carcasses for him to see and take from her, to mourn the loss of his children, grief overwhelming her voice,

"Here, they are yours. Love them well Matteo Trovato for they will never see the light of day nor the dark of night." More pain spiked through her and the woman closed her eyes, her body was not done producing her children, more remained inside of her but whether they were dead or alive was a question she did not yet hold the answer to.
#10
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I think I made this table just for this one post. ._. Teo's done helping.


Her thanks was enough for him. He'd long since forgiven her for her cruel words, the way she'd sided with Giuseppe over him that day, how she'd hated him so cruely. That was in the past. He regretted his actions, his words, but he didn't realize just how right he'd been.

Then it time for the real labor. It was quicker than he'd expected. She cried out in pain and he had to hold back everything not to reach for her, to hold onto her, as she worked through it on her own.

Then she leaned forwards, a sign that this part was done, at least for now. No towels. He knew what that meant and rather than cringe or turn away, he watched desperately, waiting for those tiny sounds... that never came.

Her words were far louder to him than they really were. Ebony. Ivory. Son and daughter. All she could give them... names...

Then she moved their tiny, barely fuzzy bodies over to him, holding them gently. He'd gone cold. Frozen. Her voice snapped him out of it though, and he leaned forward, shakily taking both tiny pups, a long, sharp whine sneaking past him as he did.

He didn't even notice Gemma, sad to say. He brought both pups, his son, his daughter, to his chest, lowering his face to them...

...and he cried. He'd never lost children before. He hadn't even been there when his parents were killed in the fire. His first real loss. His first born son and daughter... dead before he could know them.

Italians also tended to take loss very, very badly. He was done. His help was over. As much as he would've tried to help her through out the entire birth, this had all but killed the poor man, who leaned away from her and cried, clutching those tiny pups and seeming lost in his own world of hurt.

Somewhere amidst his cries and sobs, tiny whispered words. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... oh God... why... sorry... Broken by his cries and by Italian words of the same meaning, hardly understandable in the first place. My babies... my pups.. sorry... so sorry... forgive me... Yup, and of course he blamed himself.


Image courtesy of SMN@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#11
3+

She had no time to pay attention to his crying or mourning whine or the desperate way he whispered to them as though he could bring them back with words. She knew they were dead, had been for several weeks if thier size was anything to go by. More than likely it was the storm she had been caught in, forced to the edge of her survival instincts of which she had very few, no thanks to her neglectful parents. They, as the weaker pair, had been sarificed by her body to save thier siblings lives, it was cruel and vicious but it was the way the world worked, if it had not been thus so then Gemma could have very well lost her own life along with her children.

It was disturbing that she was so used to the death of children, her children, she would not cry for them now. Not at this moment. Death was a shadow that stalked her, always lingering and waiting yet it seemed whenever he struck it was not her who was damaged but those that she was with. Pain was also something that she was used to, the small coywolf had built up an impressive amount of tolerance to it for one so small and usually fragile, not that she would ever admit being fragile to anyone. Mental fragility was just as bad as with the body.

She was cursed it seemed to always have this horror thrust upon her as a third child entered the world, a spitting image of Giuseppe's coat and huge ears, so large that they hung from the girl's head like that of a spaniel or other such floppy eared dog since the girl did not yet have the muscle to hold them upright. She was still tiny in comparison to Gemma and Matteo but she dwarfed her half siblings and unlike them she was alive. She squirmed and wriggled and cried out weakly, Gemma copied Matteo and pressed the child to her face, a small tongue poking out, seeking food. Into the girl's soft puppy fur Gemma mouthed her name inauduably, this one was special, the first she had ever borne that had been alive in a recognisable sense, her daughter, Ann Libba Sawtooth. After the sister she loved dearly and the mother that hated her but she still loved.


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