5/11/2026, 3:49 PM
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Bad times had come and gone, Dalmatia had experienced the worst when she watched the warriors of the curse come back broken and bruised. Neither she nor her love had gotten caught in the large shift, yet the two of them earned the marks of those who sought the runes that led them to the tools to help quell the curse. Dal's voice carried with a soft echo, and Nóttin's saliva eerily lit with luminescence. It didn't seem to hurt either of them; the change came along as easily as growing new fur.
Dalmatia awoke with the dawn, as she often did, beside her fiancé. Love softened her worried gaze after waking from a nightmare, another frantic vision of rotten grass and dark purple northern skies. Though those times were over, she feared that the nightmares might never leave her. Naturally, she did not want to wake Nóttin from his slumber. She knew he carried more burdens than she did, a lead pillar, and even with the curse concluded — many pieces were still askew, many of their own still out there, and those who'd served in the battles, still recovering.
Not to mention the news she'd most recently been told from Tibbi. Soon, there would be more little members of Dawnbreak. And as happy as the news had made her, there was a little feeling of... not quite jealousy, nor sadness... maybe a mix... as bad as she felt even feeling that about such wonderful news (even if it was panic attack inducing for the bull-headed woman, they would all be there to help her), she couldn't help herself from the emotion. To not be the first of them to have little sprites of her own.
Though she and her mate needed to wed first — at least, Dalmatia wanted it this way. With the thought, she remembered their little trip around Dawnbreak's sights to look for a wedding place. Fondness spread to her cheeks, a blush bubbling as they crossed the place they first met. The walk from the berry bushes where he found her, and to where she'd led him to the pond, where an everlasting glacier flowed lifeblood into the water. Wouldn't that be the perfect place? Or maybe one of Dawnbreak's peaks? Dal hadn't even noticed how she had leaned in, absentmindedly grooming her beloved's chest fur.
Nóttin
Bad times had come and gone, Dalmatia had experienced the worst when she watched the warriors of the curse come back broken and bruised. Neither she nor her love had gotten caught in the large shift, yet the two of them earned the marks of those who sought the runes that led them to the tools to help quell the curse. Dal's voice carried with a soft echo, and Nóttin's saliva eerily lit with luminescence. It didn't seem to hurt either of them; the change came along as easily as growing new fur.
Dalmatia awoke with the dawn, as she often did, beside her fiancé. Love softened her worried gaze after waking from a nightmare, another frantic vision of rotten grass and dark purple northern skies. Though those times were over, she feared that the nightmares might never leave her. Naturally, she did not want to wake Nóttin from his slumber. She knew he carried more burdens than she did, a lead pillar, and even with the curse concluded — many pieces were still askew, many of their own still out there, and those who'd served in the battles, still recovering.
Not to mention the news she'd most recently been told from Tibbi. Soon, there would be more little members of Dawnbreak. And as happy as the news had made her, there was a little feeling of... not quite jealousy, nor sadness... maybe a mix... as bad as she felt even feeling that about such wonderful news (even if it was panic attack inducing for the bull-headed woman, they would all be there to help her), she couldn't help herself from the emotion. To not be the first of them to have little sprites of her own.
Though she and her mate needed to wed first — at least, Dalmatia wanted it this way. With the thought, she remembered their little trip around Dawnbreak's sights to look for a wedding place. Fondness spread to her cheeks, a blush bubbling as they crossed the place they first met. The walk from the berry bushes where he found her, and to where she'd led him to the pond, where an everlasting glacier flowed lifeblood into the water. Wouldn't that be the perfect place? Or maybe one of Dawnbreak's peaks? Dal hadn't even noticed how she had leaned in, absentmindedly grooming her beloved's chest fur.
Nóttin
