+- Vivarium (https://vivariumrpg.com)
+-- Forum: Vivarium (https://vivariumrpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=3)
+--- Forum: Northern Alpines (https://vivariumrpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=24)
+--- Thread: BWP Qiġñaupkaġniq (/showthread.php?tid=10636)
Qiġñaupkaġniq - Sulukinak - 3/10/2026
Sulukinak woke with the taste of salt and lightning on her tongue.
She had not meant to sleep—only to rest her eyes for the space of a single breath while the wind died outside the hollow—but the dream had taken her anyway, slipping under her ribs like cold water finding cracks in ice. Now she lay sprawled on her side in the shallow scrape of their camp, limbs tangled as though she had fought something invisible while unconscious.
Her eyes snapped open to the same gray half-light that had been there when she closed them. Nothing had changed on the surface. The broken cloud-cover still curved above them like a cracked jaw, gray and white; Tugix still breathed slow and even beside her, fever-damp fur rising and falling against her flank; the snow still fell in soft, relentless veils.
She rolled to her belly in one sharp motion, ears pinned, nostrils flaring.
No new scent of blood or intruder. No fissure splitting the floor of the hollow. But the dream clung to her like wet fur: the lush beginning she had never known, the terror of first awakening, the paradise that had soured into anger.
And the voice—warm, gentle, speaking words she did not know yet understood in her bones.
Drire sepal kin kina.She mouthed the sounds silently, tasting them.
They felt old. Older than her. Older than the scar. She repeated them once, low and guttural, the syllables scraping her throat like gravel. The hollow inside her ached in answer—not with fear, but with recognition. This was no ordinary dream. This was the land speaking through her, the same land that had pulled her south toward flat ground, that had guided her to fish beneath ice, that had let her find Tugix broken but breathing.
She shifted closer to him now, muzzle brushing the damp fur along his neck in a single, brief press—possessive, grounding. The thrum in the earth pulsed once, faint but undeniable, as though answering the words still echoing behind her eyes.
Tugix.The name hung in the cold air, low and steady, waiting for mismatched eyes to open, for the fevered warmth beside her to stir and answer. For now, it was just a dream.
RE: Qiġñaupkaġniq - Tugix - 3/22/2026
against tugix is tucked the child Bluefish.
he burns. she is quiet beside.
he had plucked her from the snow, and while he cannot explain how he came to be lying here, in the possession of a shadow-woman who thrummed with the energy of a bone priestess.
she whispers and he rouses.
tugix is bleary. the fire rages beneath his skin, and when he rolls, it brings him face to face with the wolf from the snow, who soothed his wounds and brought him here. aorta-man grunts. he tastes his stale mouth, feels the tear of his flesh.
he groans, but his name sets the eyes to waking slits.
muradoii has barely returned to himself. he craves the black sea and the bone shelter, but he is too weak to pull himself up.
in time, a low rolling tone indicates the child.
he burns. she is quiet beside.
he had plucked her from the snow, and while he cannot explain how he came to be lying here, in the possession of a shadow-woman who thrummed with the energy of a bone priestess.
she whispers and he rouses.
tugix is bleary. the fire rages beneath his skin, and when he rolls, it brings him face to face with the wolf from the snow, who soothed his wounds and brought him here. aorta-man grunts. he tastes his stale mouth, feels the tear of his flesh.
he groans, but his name sets the eyes to waking slits.
muradoii has barely returned to himself. he craves the black sea and the bone shelter, but he is too weak to pull himself up.
in time, a low rolling tone indicates the child.
RE: Qiġñaupkaġniq - Bluefish - 3/22/2026
At some point, eyes do open up again. But something tells her to stay quiet, so she is. Soundless, and suckling lightly on a pale carpal heel.
They go far way now, out from big sea and slippy ice flat to snow. Bluefish don’t know why. Her Tata smell funny. There other big legs here too, but not seal.
Are they gonna make the angry clack noises again?
Bluefish shivers.
Please, don’t hurt my Tata.
RE: Qiġñaupkaġniq - Sulukinak - 3/23/2026
The man is alive.
His eyes open but he does not see, she thinks. He moves and it is the spirit of the fire moving him, nothing more. Sulukinak tends to him a moment—washes his face with her tongue which feels colder than his skin, a bad sign—and then his tone shifts, and she sees the movement of some extra part of him.
Not his tail—it had eyes. It had teeth, grabbing at an ankle.
Something maternal possesses Sulukinak in that instant, as she sees it is a child. She moves quickly from Tugix to this living bundle and, regardless of protests from either of them, grabs for the girl. Pulls her in to an embrace against her chest. Begins the arduous task of grooming her, next.
RE: Qiġñaupkaġniq - Tugix - 3/24/2026
tugix does not interfere. if the dark-wolf has darker intentions, he can no longer protect himself against them. fever rolls the man sideways, where he heaves vomit into the earth as his face and spine spiral with violent pain.
he has born anguish before.
he has earned scars.
this festering was somehow new, and for the first time, tugix was unsure if he would make a return back to the nightfall beach. and yet he must. all that existed of the muradoii was there, and tugix with no way to express this.
he sinks back upon his shoulders. the sibilant words come with effort.
but he could not remember carrying her, nor reaching sulukinak, nor collapsing.
the red now running with streaks of rot inside him.
he closes his eyes, belly threatening another bout of sickness.
he has born anguish before.
he has earned scars.
this festering was somehow new, and for the first time, tugix was unsure if he would make a return back to the nightfall beach. and yet he must. all that existed of the muradoii was there, and tugix with no way to express this.
he sinks back upon his shoulders. the sibilant words come with effort.
if the man tugix dies, she must see the Black Sea.he cannot explain why he took the pup from the shoreline, except that it had seemed prudent in the face of his success.
but he could not remember carrying her, nor reaching sulukinak, nor collapsing.
if the man tugix lives, she will be of his blood.
the red now running with streaks of rot inside him.
he closes his eyes, belly threatening another bout of sickness.
RE: Qiġñaupkaġniq - Bluefish - 3/24/2026
skippable <3
![[Image: cat-sleepy-sleepy.gif]](https://media.tenor.com/RmTsBqLALo0AAAAM/cat-sleepy-sleepy.gif)
The world is changing all the time, sounds and coldness and smelliness. She never knows how everything is going to be in the next moment. It has been good and bad, pieces of both stucked together.
She’s taken away from the safe place of Tata, stiffening all at once. Paws curling, mouth still pursed from suckling. This big legs dark as nighttime and smelling of strange things. Holds her.
Bluefish goes rigid as landfish again, eyes staying wide and shining, watching, watching— waiting for the bad thing to come.
But it doesn’t.
Instead, warmth. A kiss, wetting her face. Then again. Smoothing mussy fur, the salt, the bad-things smell from Tata. Bluefish is blinking. The rhythm is slow and rocking. Her body forgets to stay stiff, loosening one paw, then another.
Tata is close. Her eyes go to him. He making noises, but still here.
She let out a tiny, wavering yawn. Big legs has steady heart, and tongue that keeps smoothing, smoothing. Head feels heavy, then body does too. She sag against the chest that holds her, side of face sinking into fleece.
Ana.
RE: Qiġñaupkaġniq - Sulukinak - 3/24/2026
A pause in the cleaning; she stares at him a long moment, ignoring the steaming pile of sick.
Your blood then, fire-eater.She reaches over to his face, wounded and scabbing, and catches his cheek with her teeth. Maybe it will scar—she doesn't care about that. The blood is drawn across the child's face, from forehead to nose. It bleeds in to damp fur—a bloom.
What does the man Tugix call this one?She doubted he had any idea of who this was, or where they came from, let alone what to call it. Long, awkward limbs hold the child close, possessive. Eyes focus upon it, staring, staring, staring, and forgetting herself.
RE: Qiġñaupkaġniq - Tugix - 3/28/2026
tugix does not wince.
she was not muradoii. but now she is. he can scarcely remember staggering with her into the safety of sulukinak's company. he can scarcely remember anything at all
his bloodscent fills the space. it smears over the milky salt of the baby snow. it collects in the darkhunter's fragrance. they are bonded by this, the three of them.
muscles unknit. tugix sags back against the ground, one eye watching sulukinak stare at the child. in this moment, her angular face holds the single-minded intent of a bone priestess.
aorta-man cannot spare snow child from sacrifice if it was intended. he has no strength. he is at mercy.
muradoii lost cubs in hard winters. a young life was not named until they drew blood or proved themselves in some other way.
he watches them in grim, interested silence, an observer of an emotion he cannot feel.
muradoii children have no names when they are born.
she was not muradoii. but now she is. he can scarcely remember staggering with her into the safety of sulukinak's company. he can scarcely remember anything at all
his bloodscent fills the space. it smears over the milky salt of the baby snow. it collects in the darkhunter's fragrance. they are bonded by this, the three of them.
muscles unknit. tugix sags back against the ground, one eye watching sulukinak stare at the child. in this moment, her angular face holds the single-minded intent of a bone priestess.
aorta-man cannot spare snow child from sacrifice if it was intended. he has no strength. he is at mercy.
muradoii lost cubs in hard winters. a young life was not named until they drew blood or proved themselves in some other way.
he watches them in grim, interested silence, an observer of an emotion he cannot feel.