Vivarium - Northern Alpines

Im standing there, on a balcony in summer air

Sat, 26 Sep 2026 10:47:48 -0400

Sindri was often wide awake at the early and late hours of the day, and it didn't feel strange to be so now. For a while, she thought she was just caught up in the constant and volatile swings of her emotions that'd been a struggle to contain for the last weeks; she had never been a waspish creature but even with a knowing grip on herself and those jabs of hormonal rage, she sometimes felt … icy. Barbed and paranoid, as if she suddenly didn't trust but a select few to be too close to her massively swollen sides. Finding a new den together with Fen and making it their own had savagely triggered Sin’s urge to begin nesting; every moment since she had found herself able to move, she seemed to be nudging some bit of moss into a better spot or tucking a feather more firmly into the bed eight times before banishing it outright like she thought it might take an eye from one of her precious babes. She slowly began to spend more and more time there at the den site, mostly just lounging about. She was no longer being dramatic about her weight: when one of the whelps inside gave a kick, or even shifted too insistently, she could see the movement on the surface of her taut belly, and despite having the knowledge to get through this herself if she wanted to, Sindri was admittedly nervous.

What happened if a goddess died whilst living in a mortal body?

What happened if she just plain lost her sanity because there was an entire flock of not so little Starlings that had come from her womb into the innocent Storms Reach? What if they were all, every single one, as towering as the rest of the family and dwarfed their poor Mother? What if she'd put in all this hard work for them to all come out looking just like Dad?
Well. That last one wouldn't be so bad, she thought with a smile. The sound of a bunch of little princely Fenglan minis about their heels sounded less chaotic than a bunch of Sindris! Suddenly all she could think about was all the times she'd snuck off with a bundle of fermented berries to drink alone on the shore of the mainland, or followed the call of a strange dream to the peak of a mountain across the tundra; bringing home all assortments of critters to patch back up, from falcons that tried to peck at her when they grew healthy again to little mice who spent the first days trying to run because they still thought danger was upon them. How had Cupid put up with her alone let alone a gaggle of them?!

Throughout much of the night Sindri lay quietly, dozing on and off in peaceful reverie beside her dark prince. Astraios was off somewhere, likely hunting - he didn't seem happy to spend so much time in one spot or on his own, but he was also even more tender with her than normal, like he knew the cargo she carried was fragile and precious. She sometimes started off on a walk with him, just the two of them, but often fell behind and urged him to go on ahead while she returned. It was frustrating, perhaps, for she who had always yearned for the freedom old wings once provided…. But she was never lonely, at least. When he was not fetching her something (at request or from the kindness of his own heart), Fenglan seemed content to dote however he could. Sindri returned it with a fervor that kept her content in these long nights and longer days. She couldn't even scale the mountain to star watch properly anymore, reaching for the sky as she was want to do!

She'd been tireless during the day, uncomfortable, and kept expecting the pups to begin their exit… but she had settled well enough when they moved into the moss lined hollow to rest after many hours of nothing. Just another false alarm, she'd told Fenglan, no need to raise the alarm. Yet a little before midnight, she began to fidget. Gentle, idly restless movements at first, but ramping quietly into something that prodded her awake entirely over the next hour. Her dark ears swiveled when she picked up her cheek from the ground, listening for something to have disturbed her, but the forest was quiet. An owl -her Astraios, she thought- hooted out in the night, but otherwise only cricket song broke the evening. Her spine pressed against Fenglan's ebony frame and legs stretched out all at different angles, Sindri laid her head back down and tried again to sleep.

When the moon had hit its peak in the sky, the stars shimmering like a million jewels around it, Sindri felt a wave of twitches run up her entire torso, and the electric jolt of discomfort that came with it prompted a small whimper from the night goddess.

Her work was always done in the deep of night.

i echo down the hall

Fri, 25 Sep 2026 22:13:43 -0400

—

Mazikeen was the daughter of a witch and a Viking princess. And yet... somehow ... she sighed. She would move through the silence of the evening like a mind reader, a gypsy reflecting on her sins.

Somehow, Mazikeen's sins echoed. And the girl would frown.

And she would look over her shoulder, begging for more.

More than a memory.

More than a ghost.
Looking for a shadow.

There would be no forgetting her, and yet ... she feared she would soon become obsolete.

A soft sigh.

And Mazikeen drifted toward the beach.

This place was safe.

Safe.

And Mazi would sigh, inhaling deeply.

The girl would pull herself toward the beach, resting in the the stink of the seaweed.

Resting.

But really, she was glaring. She was staring outward at the ocean, glaring toward a reality that should have been hers. And yet ... she was bitter.

start counting back from ten

Fri, 25 Sep 2026 20:13:48 -0400

OOC

For Avon! ( , but AW!) —

was missing.

Well, perhaps it was more that she was misplaced.

Calyx presumed that Briar was exactly where Briar wanted to be. But the Cheshire Cat had not seen his sister in some number of moons. And somewhere deep within the haze of his drug-fueled mind, he felt ... a semblance ... of ... something. Responsibility? No — curiosity was probably the correct emotion.

Perhaps he could decode her location without her realizing. Then, she could continue on whatever rampage she desired, all while in the silent, watchful eye of a smiling brother.

He wouldn't be able to protect her.

But at least he'd know where she'd wandered off to.

North was a lazy, familiar direction. It grew colder as he wandered. And he silently wondered if either or would join him on this excursion — they both had a way of appearing at the most unusual moments!

But for a while, there was silence.

There was just Calyx and his squirrel purse.

And soon, the male would find the edge of the familiar meadows — those blood-hued flowers greeted him with a sweet sway. The scent of honey caught on his nostrils, causing his smile to twist upward in delight. What a surprise! He knew where he was! It was either fate or luck, but Calyx silently applauded himself for his wonderful powers of manifestation.

He would toe the border edge easily, testing the waters gently because, although he was delighted, he was ...
... alone.

For now.

Somewhere just beyond my reach, Theres someone reaching back for me

Fri, 25 Sep 2026 17:36:31 -0400

Raisa didn't need Bogart, she'd told herself. And, if truth be told, she was more heartbroken that she'd let herself believe he could've understood who she was in her heart and loved her still than that he'd actually left. No, she thought, she'd been foolish. A silly girl in love with the idea of love, who was searching too hard for something she couldn't even name, who had swooned at the first notion of affection and some pretty words.
Never again, she thought.
No, she didn't need Bogart. She never had! But some part of her ached to watch him walk away all the same, and his retreating form would forever be burned in the back of her eyelids. She missed his steady nature, his whimsical 'we can figure this out' attitude that, ironically, had been exactly what'd imploded between them -- because he'd given it to someone else. Was that wrong of her, wanting the best parts of a mate to herself? If it was, she decided, she didn't care. She only asked that which she was willing to give as well, and she refused to let someone see the best of her while getting bullshit in return.
Never again, never again.

The part that ripped her up inside was the kids. None of them could understand where he was, why he had gone; and because Raisa herself knew nothing of his reasoning and was unwilling to paint their sire in a bad light, there wasn't much she could even go on. Anastasia especially seemed distraught, crying for him some nights even now when she was barely hanging on. Raisa may not have been a healer by trade, but she'd spent months learning from Barbosa and she had tried everything she knew. She'd even asked Fiora to the den to check on Ana yesterday, but the Witchdoctor hadn't much more to say. Some new remedies to try, at least, but they only seemed able to make the poor girl more comfortable.

Raisa had spent the last days memorizing her sweet little face, convinced that any day now she might look over and find that her daughter was no longer drawing breath. Her speckled cheeks, her forked past, her pale little toes on dark paws. Her warm, sunny eyes, when she could manage to open them. Ana looked as if she should've been the biggest of the children, but it was so hard to tell -- Scar looked much bigger these days, though she couldn't remember the last she'd seen Ana stand let alone at her full height.

The others needed her, and Raisa did her best to remain strong. To be the doting Mother Scarlett and Seraphim deserved. She'd started showing them the skills they would need to survive in life as opposed to shaping the instincts they already had with well-timed advice. They were growing fast, and growing well, and they just wanted --deserved-- the happy childhood Raisa herself had always hoped for herself. Had worked so hard to offer them!
But gods, she could see it happening all over again: one parent gone, the children starting to scatter. Would fate or the gods Northfall loved so much finally strike her down for the heathen she was, and leave two more Rodion children in a world they had yet to find their place in? Would she fade from their minds as Blackfoot had morphed into the back of Raisa's own memory, no more than a blur of colors now?

.
.
.
.

Raisa couldn't sleep. All three whelps were peacefully resting, tucked against a stomach with legs -- an area that was swiftly becoming too small for her swiftly growing whelps and often, like now, left even little Phim half draped over her flank. Ana was snug between her siblings, laying parallel with Raisa's belly for the warmth. She always seemed so cold; some nights, she debated asking in just to curl about the girl with her thick, plush pelt in entirety; nowhere had ever felt so safe or warm as in her mother-bears arms.
Head on the mossy nest, her sunset gaze peering listlessly outside, she tried to sleep... but she'd woken several times throughout the night to check on the babes, and though each time they had barely moved, the dread filled her higher and higher.

Maybe it was something in the smell of the den.

Maybe it was just paranoia fed by circumstance.

Maybe it was a mothers bleeding heart.

Raisa had already been wide-awake and watching as they ebony sky turned navy, and then grey-purple with pre-dawn. Clouds lay heavily against the sky in patches, and the wind that frisked inside had a chill to it, hinting at a dreary day ahead if not rain to come much later on. The morning, however miserably, seemed peaceful. She had just checked all three babes just a minute ago, a fleeting nose to their rising and falling ribcages.
The Rodion matriarch's head jerked up with a suddenness that pinched a nerve in her neck and send hot-liquid-pain dripping down to her shoulder for a split second, like one waking from a bad dream of falling. Her gaze raked across them again, ears cupping and straining, breath caught in her throat.

Only two were inhaling and exhaling to the melody of dreamland.

Raisa thought she could hear the ocean rushing in her ears, slamming against the sides of her skull only to bounce off with more force to hit the opposite wall over and over and over! Her muzzle snaked down to brush against Ana's flank, and a ripple went down Raisa's spine.

One long, soft, keening note broke from her lips, and tears were dripping from her cheeks before she even processed what was happening. What had happened. The whine fell away, echoing around the cave and out into the silent morning -- not even the birds seemed to be chirping. The grey sky outside fell away, and the stony walls of her home, and even her two sleeping(?) babes. Raisa barely even felt her own body, and she stared blankly at the tiny body for a moment. Phim stirred against her hind leg and Raisa shifted too, standing, sending him flopping to the soft nest with a grumble of half-consciousness. Not my girl, she whispered, voice no more than a shiver, Not one of my babies--, her voice cracked, shattered a pitch higher -- They're all I have, please. She didn't know who she was talking to. Frankly, she didn't know she was talking; body trembling, eyes shining with tears but already dull with disbelief and mourning, Raisa barely looked coherent as she crouched beside her daughter.

You can't!

The stench of her fear filled her nose alongside the scent of death, gentle and unnerving. The shrieks of her voice were not terribly loud, but gut-wrenching all the same.

You can't!

Wheres the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds

Fri, 25 Sep 2026 15:52:52 -0400

Dated 9/24

Phim was not a baby anymore. He was a big kid now with massive paws and a not-so-massive frame. Both sisters had shot past him in height so far, even Anastasia who …. Wasn't well. All three of them had always been more squarely built than their Mother, more like their Father. Phim had always been a little plushier than them, too, but where looked healthy, even the young boy could tell their littermate did not. Her pelt was dull no matter how much time Raisa seemed to spend grooming her quietly in the nest, and it hung but thinly from skin that suddenly seemed too large for her, sagging off a frame that suddenly seemed fragile. She'd been the same size as Scar, and now she looked more like a shadow.

Phim tried to cheer her up sometimes, and brought her whatever neat little trinket he could find, and offered her all the food first. Some days she gobbled everything down quick as a blink, but many days she just insisted she wasn't hungry. Mama kept giving her herbs, and sometimes they seemed to help… but never for long.

And this was only one travesty. Papa was gone. Mama didn't have many words on it; he had an itch to walk free, she had told them, but he loved them all the same as he ever had. She wouldn't say anything bad had happened, but one morning he'd just been…. Gone, and Raisa was just laying across the den entrance scowling outside as if she expected trouble - or had just sent some scurrying off. She'd tucked away her anger as she noticed the whelps waking, but he'd seen it all the same. But she was Mama, and she was as resolute and loving as SHE had always been. Admittedly, nothing much seemed to change. Papa had not been around much to start with, but Phim would miss the cuddle puddles with the entire family, his sires friendly drawl, his massive fluffy form good for climbing. Even if his scent was already fading to the back of his memory a piece of Bogart, however small, would remain with his only son. He'd never done them any wrong, Phim reasoned, even though there was a layer of sadness over the den now. Even if everything had been just fine before he had gone; Mama happy, Ana healthy, the family together!

One good thing had come with the passing of time, at least....

If not Raisa herself, someone still always clung like burrs to the children; sometimes in the background and sometimes not, but Uncle and Aunt were never far even when Raisa or stayed in the den. Yet Mama said that so long as they behaved, minded their manners, and came when they were called -or otherwise home by sunset-, and kept far inside the borders of Northfall land.... freedom was now laid at their paws. Phim didn't mind the rules! The world had just expanded by miles and miles, and there was plenty within it to entertain his free hours.
She'd showed them one of the markers so they knew the smell of the borders, and she had spoken true! Now, whenever Phim hollered that he was going out to play, he could go so far the ravine was no longer in sight! And beyond Up, up, up the mountain Raisa was teaching them to traverse safely. The young wolf-dog was sure not a day had passed where Raisa taught them something, showed them some new wonder, or brought them some new toy or prey.... but now their lessons were less talking and more doing!

Anastasia should've been learning with them, though. The thought was always heavy on his mind when Raisa was nudging his limbs into better position to pounce, or showing Scarlett some track upon the earth. But he would teach her himself, he told anyone who would listen, when she recovered!

Mama had done something strange today, and called for someone.... new. She was tall, pale white as a cloud and brown like dirt, smelling of herbs and berries and dirt! Colorful shapes swirled and slashed across her coat in a ruddy orange tone, but it wasn't fur -- the lady, who introduced herself so kindly as Fiora, said -- it was clay! Phim... didn't know what clay was. Pretty, he thought. But before he could ask her any questions, Raisa was shooing him and Scarlett from the den with a "go play outside, lovelies," and turning Fiora's attention to Anastasia's form huddled in the nest. And, well, it suddenly seemed pertinent to make himself scarce; he noticed as he trotted out that Fiora had herbs, too, and he could see the worry in her purple eyes as she moved to look at Anastasia.

Raisa only just started to let people in the ravine. She never, never let people in the den! Not unless they were Rodion-kin themselves, and he knew he'd met all of those that (Raisa knew) remained in Mythris!

The grey boy shot Scarlett a smile, however halfhearted it was knowing that one-third of their childhood was being left in that den to wheeze and struggle. He could not take care of Anastasia, not now, but he could take care of Scarlett. M'goin up, he informed her, I seen a river made of ice yesterday, Scar! But Мать called before I got there. He grinned a little wider. I remember the way there though! He tapped her gently with his single dark paw before falling into a play-bow. You should come with me!
Yes, or no, though, he couldn't sit here and imagine them poking and prodding Anastasia, lingering on how terribly she looked, trying to figure out how to help her and clearly only a little less clueless than Seraphim himself.

He swiped a lick across her muzzle and loped off with a bounce in his trot. Maybe he was being silly! The adults would handle things, and Anastasia would be able to come the next time he wanted to show his sisters something neat! The boy moved with clumsy paws up the ravine, his breaths coming quicker before he'd gone far up the steep, rocky hill, and leaving him panting lightly by the time he reached the top. It was only once he was there did he glance back to see if Scarlett had, in fact, followed, or if she was lingering.

i'm so cold

Wed, 23 Sep 2026 20:57:34 -0400

This is a fight Isleif is not meant to win.

He knew it from the moment they'd been caught off guard. Only he and Dagfinn were out, and the boy was still so green that Isleif wouldn't trust him to fight a squirrel, much less attackers with the advantage of surprise.

It's a decision he made in mere seconds to send the boy back for help, but it feels like a lifetime. Everything he's ever done, everything he's always wanted to do, flash behind his eyes, and the future crumbles to ash as he barks Dagfinn's orders.

Go get help.

The boy is fast, but it won't be fast enough. Isleif knows this, he does, but he has no choice. If he could hold off the ambush until the others arrived, that would be enough.

But it is one against four, and Isleif is good, but he isn't that good.

Dagfinn takes off in a mad dash, and Isleif intercepts the wolf who tries to pursue him. They crash to the snowy ground in a graceless heap, and Isleif, in spite of his typical dislike for excessive violence, feels a strange sense of pride in the way the man's throat feels beneath his teeth.

He doesn't know if he kills the enemy. Isn't sure that it matters. Strong jaws clamp down on his scruff and drag him off, and Isleif is immediately pinned by another.

Wrenching himself from the grip of the wolf behind him should be painful with the way a chunk of his flesh rips off, but Isleif's adrenaline is pumping, and he feels nothing. He takes the opportunity to close his teeth around the muzzle of the man pinning him, and he can feel the way his canines sink into the soft nasal cavity. The man howls in pain, gurgled with blood, and Isleif shoved him off and gets to his feet again.

It is a vicious back and forth from there on. The man with the crushed muzzle drowns in his blood, and then there are three. Someone takes Isleif's right ear and a part of his scalp, and Isleif tears into the side of their neck in exchange. It doesn't kill them, but it does give him the opportunity to shove them over the side of a nearby ledge, where they plunge into the raging river far below.

Bite after bite, constant twisting and turning to face his final two opponents, and Isleif is fading quickly. It's a shame, he thinks - if it had been three, then he might have survived long enough to receive help, but as the two remaining enemies and Isleif stare one another down, Isleif realizes the world is beginning to tilt and spin nauseatingly. His fur is wet along his chest, his flank, his face, and Isleif realizes he is standing in a pool of crimson.

One of the men before him lunges forward, perhaps believing he would be enough to finish Isleif off, but the silver man had never been the type to give in, no matter how low the odds. He even surprises himself by somehow pinning the enemy wolf to the ground, readying himself for the killing bite, when the other assailant slams into his flank and sends him rolling.

He lands on his back, leaving behind a splash of pink where he'd slid in the snow, and it takes half a second for the weight of another to crush him against the earth.

Isleif is thoroughly pinned and too weak to push the stranger off of him. He does try, though, and manages to clamp his jaws around one forelimb, finding a sense of sick delight in the strangled yelp he elicits from the other man.

But it doesn't matter. A dark shadow finds its way over him, and Isleif knows, in some detached way, that these are the final few moments of his life.

And he's afraid.

And he's sad.

And he's sorry.

And he wants Vidarr to be there more than he's ever wanted anything. Even for just a second, just a heartbeat, so that Isleif could say goodbye to the other half of his soul.

It's a final gift from the gods that Isleif gets his wish.

He can't see well, his vision swimming from what he assumed was blood loss, but he would recognize Vidarr through presence alone. Isleif turns his head toward the fuzzy black-and-silver figure on the other side of the clearing.

Vi- he begins to choke out, despair and longing and pleading and love heavy in the singular syllable he was able to produce,

before teeth sank into his throat and ripped him wide open.

Vidarr!!

The sound is painful as it tears from his throat. Isleif sits up as though he's just woken from a nightmare, expecting to find himself on a battlefield, expecting carnage and bloodshed and death...

...but there is nothing.

No injuries, no snarls of fury, no howls of victory.

No blood on the ground.

No pain.

No scent of pine and fresh mint.

Nothing but Isleif, and the endless expanse of snow, and the moon hanging heavy in a darkening sky.

gregorian

Wed, 23 Sep 2026 09:47:16 -0400

reintroducing!

many months have passed, and the snow that clung to the trees had begun to grow thin. flowers glistening with dewdrops hid underneath the white sheets like shy virgins.

eve observed them on her stroll. fall would come soon, the air had already begun to dry, and eventually so would the few leaves and flowers that sprung. it was an inevitabilty of life, she supposed.

[Birth] Count the stars like freckles on your cheek

Wed, 23 Sep 2026 01:01:23 -0400

✿ Skill ✿

Midwife (1/5)

Though she lacked a calendar or any meaningful way to gauge how much time had passed and how it might line up with the familiar rhythms of her homeland, Fable could feel the turning of seasons in her bones.

It resonated with a part of her that stirred soul deep, telling her the next spoke in the wheel of the year had arrived. Perhaps it was the balance of light and dark, how quickly day faltered to night's comforting embrace - how the smattering of deciduous trees amidst the evergreens were nipped with fire on the edges of their leaves, preparing to drop them as autumn coalesced.

Whatever it was, Fable knew it was time to hold the Mabon celebration. With less gusto than she would have liked to have possessed, she summoned the pack with a howl - drawing them to Fateweaver Field. Summer's blossoms were beginning to fade, bidden away by the cooling temperatures, but it remained a beautiful sight beneath the moon's bounty.

As gravid as the celestial body above her, Fable could feel the entire weight of her pregnancy - more keenly today than days prior. In the rush to get the festivities underway, to ensure everyone was settled and taken care of, she'd managed to ignore the growing pain spanning along her belly and into her hips. She exhaled through what she now recognized as a contraction just as she had plucked a yellow rose for . It was no question who her chosen would be for this festival given it was their children she carried, but realization crowded around her.

She would not be carrying them much longer, that she knew.

Her body had known what she'd been slow to realize: Today, their children would be making their appearance, gods-ordained festival or not.

Brigid, it seemed, had quite the sense of humor.

Fox, Fable murmured through the prickly stem she clamped between her jaws, nearly biting it in half as another contraction wracked its way through her. Familiar with the birthing process, it did not need to acclimate this time around, it seemed. It's time.

Her eyes searched for his in the starlit gloom, their packmates not so far away. This was too public, too crowded-

She wanted them to be welcomed beneath the stars. It felt right to have the heavens bear witness to the tiny lives she'd harbored all these weeks. Besides, Brigid's Embrace was too far away; these children were not destined for the goddess of childbirth's arms. It was The Morrigan herself who beckoned them, who held the threads of their fates in her capable hand.

And who was Fable to deny her?

We won't make it back t' th' Embrace, Fable added, voice strained but lacking a frantic edge. She pressed her muzzle to his cheek, her rounded side to him. Resolution settled across her, calming the fringe previously threatening to fray. Somewhere with just us an' th' stars. She lacked the faculty to get all of her thoughts out, to explain what her heart had accepted already as fact and why - but her gaze was imploring him to find what she requested, to guide her while her body warred.

When I'm through No word that I've written will ring quite as true as burn

Sun, 20 Sep 2026 09:29:24 -0400

Saga was... Well. Better, here, was a word best used when one thought about how she had looked when she fled Tianlong. In comparison, sure, the pale creature was no longer caked in the scents of her torturers and the blood and filth had been bathed from her fur. For all intents and purposes, she seemed, perhaps, better. At first glance, at least. A closer inspection would find that her soft, pretty silver fur was mussed and tangled; some of the matts had been combed through with teeth initially, but after nearly a month of hiding in a deep, dim hole many others had begun to clump together. Whatever strength she had gleaned from the rough gemstone cave had long since deserted her, and Saga well and truly didn't know what to do.

She wanted .

The thought made her heart ache every time it repeated. She wanted him so desperately the thought choked her, but he was so terribly far, she knew. How far, though? She'd been... cruel. Saga knew that. She could still hear her own words echoing in her head as she spat them at her husband, and while every one had struck true, she regretted that it'd come to such a blowout. She hated that it was a conversation had in the depths of her freshly kindled fear, rooted in betrayal, instead of a discussion -- but a nice calm talk hadn't worked last time, had it?
Or his scent wouldn't have tortured her more than Joxer and Fairytale's unwanted touches.
But she knew she loved him still. How couldn't she? Jaxxon had become her life entire, he was the father to her babies, he was her husband, the lord of Jakten. He was the one that finally showed her how to hunt. He was the one who had supported her in this journey to becoming her own woman, even when she could see the fear in his eyes at the idea. He... never had been convinced she wouldn't leave him. Had he been right the whole time? Did he know their path would lead them down this road, that eventually Joxer would return and the choice would have to come -- a choice he knew the answer to already? Yes, she should've believed him when he told her --so blatantly-- that he needed Joxer. That his brother completed him. That Jaxxon didn't know what to be without him. To some degree, Saga felt bad for it. For stepping in where she had only become a problem, for perhaps indeed stealing him from Joxer.... but like she'd been forced from home by circumstance, was it really stealing Jaxxon when he had been abandoned? Hell, Saga even understood it; that need to keep pushing yourself where you so desperately wanted to be needed, to be loved, and finding but a wall of stone in return. She'd felt it with her Mother, and she felt it now, trying to get through to Jaxx as he struggled against his own.

It was all a big mess. She understood as much as she was left lost and confused, and all around resented the situation for what it had become. Perhaps he was back at Mistveil pouting. Maybe he was drowning himself in berries, or the soft pelt of some prettier woman... and maybe he'd gone south further still to find where his brother lay in hiding. Maybe now that she wasn't around to nag at him and be a thorn in his side, Jaxxon was finally happy.

When Joxer vanished and Freya made a run for it, Saga thought, I was dumb to not make my own bid for freedom after all.
She would still have been beautiful. The children would not exist, and she knew there would still be an empty hole inside herself where they and Jaxxon and even Jakten had completed, but perhaps it would've been better that way. Perhaps Jaxxon would've found his happiness that way, that he and Joxer would've made up long ago without her standing in the way.

Maybe none of it was Jaxxs fault. Maybe it was all her fault after all.

And now, miserably crouched not far from the half-hidden entrance to the tunnel, hunched into herself as breakfast was expelled against icy stones.... Saga thought about how much worse it'd become.

She had known before, and she knew now. One did not grow up watching bellies swell and taking care of the mothers-to-be, have a litter of their own, and didn't recognize the signs she had so been fearing. She'd thought it'd been safe enough. She thought it'd been as good a time as any, and Jaxx didn't disagree. She -they- were ready to expand the family... or had been, a month ago. Now - Saga thought again of the herbs that would rid her of such a condition. She could find them still, she knew -- suffer what came here in the mountains alone, mourn what she must... and move on.

A mix of slushy rain pelted Saga, soaked into her dull silver coat until its icy fingers caressed her skin and she was left shivering. She hardly felt it, though. Trembling, unsteady, she stood and turned to halfheartedly kick snow over the mess. The weather would ice it over and hide the evidence well enough all on its own, she thought as she trudged back to the short cave. After shaking out her coat she ducked beneath the cliff face, but instead of slinking back down into the dark right away Saga plopped down there to catch her breath. She was already so, so tired, but she wondered how much of that was because she spent day after day just... laying about. Sometimes she came to the surface, but much of her time she remained in the caves; in the dark, among the gems, all by herself. What she ate was usually by Valdis' kindness. She didn't know why he was sticking around or why he cared whether or not she wasted away, but she thought he might've been the only reason she hadn't starved to death beneath the mountains already; Saga was certainly doing little to keep herself afloat.

Saga didn't want to die. She didn't deserve to wither away in some icy pit in the earth.

But she didn't want to live in the pit that'd become her mental prison over the last years, its icy walls built with every misdeed she had allowed against herself and every aching clench of her heart as it bore another lash. Jaxxon, Joxer and his new whore wife, Polly, Killian, Melchior, Dulcie, her own fucking Mother, her siblings growing up; she'd never done any of them wrong, not any of them, but bit by bit they had all taught the Fox that it was safer to protect yourself. It was safer to keep away from others, altogether.
Obedience had gotten her this far in life, and it had kept her alive, no doubt! But it had crafted this abyss around her, she had with her own foolishness, and no amount of loving intent on her own part made that okay. Saga had crafted herself into someone who didn't say no, who let others walk all over her, who let life steamroll her without resistance.

No fucking more.

Saga pressed her head against a stony rock wall, the icy surface pleasant against her hot silver cheek, and began to cry; her soft sobs hidden within the raging storm and whistling gales.

Tear the whole world down.

Sat, 19 Sep 2026 17:18:34 -0400

Skill:

Jaxxon Douglas Kinsey

Things hadn't gone as planned, not in the least bit. He was hoping to have a quick trip there and back, following along her trail as she veered into the Alpines, the last place her wanted to go. Instead he felt piece by piece like he was unraveling, falling outwards from himself bit by bit, and as he trekked further and further North he noticed he was fading away.

His soul hurt, it felt shattered and splintered, shocked by an ECT machine into waves that weren't normal and just plain wrong. Jaxxon kept his nose low, pointed high at points, as he tried to catch her scent. Saga was lost, gone, no trace of her had been found and he felt like he had lost everything. He had his pack, his family, his children, but he didn't have his wife.

What had he done?

Jaxx let out a whimper as the winds blew hard, raging with a storm that sent freezing rain down upon the earth, thunder roared as he squinted into the droplets that pelted him hard from the sky. Audits were flattened as he sniffed the ground again. Borders. Carefully the male skirted his way around them, daring not to cross as he hoped to find somebody along it's path. When he didn't find any after a few moments the male sent out a cry into the sky, hoping it wouldn't be lost within the storm, beckoning forth anybody who could help him.

Jaxxon looked like a large wet rat, his amber optics near closed as he waited impatiently, praying for somebody who might know where his wife had gone. He couldn't wait around forever, the longer he waited, the further away she grew.

Discordant Melody.

Sat, 19 Sep 2026 10:00:24 -0400

Skill:

As she stood in the mouth of the den watching the lightning crack through the sky, racing with light as it breaks the clouds into splinters Leona pulled a leg out before her. Outstretched and twisting as she stared at it, the girl frowned, she didn't like the way her body felt these days.

Her paws were too big, her legs were too long, she was starting to gain footing on her lanky form but it bothered her. She didn't feel right, she didn't look right, when the girl stared at herself in puddles and ponds, she felt wrong.

Leona sighed as she dropped her large paw to the ground with a thump, the large pup bowed her head near down to her paws with dismay and flattened her ears as she dragged her manus into the storm. She felt the pitter patter across her body as she slowly walked towards a large puddle that gathered near the front of their home.

As she reached the edge she stared at herself, watched as her eyes danced across her face and she looked at herself, saddened and distorted with the ripples that broke her reflection. Everything was so dark she was only able to see herself with the breaks of light when the came, the thunderous roar of sounds above echoing across Dawnbreak with a vengeance.

Leona bowed herself to her image. She frowned and slammed a paw into the water to shatter herself.

for the golden corn

Sun, 13 Sep 2026 17:30:54 -0400

backdated to a week-ish after the birth, traveling to the Vale after the wedding
For , , , & ♡
but open to any members of Dawnbreak that would be traveling with them.

Is this what motherhood was? A never-ending upheaval of expectations, and a continual moving of what she thought her limits to be?

Was it strange to be enamoured with the intensity of it, rather than overwhelmed? Finally, her heart had its purpose, and its soul had found its longing.

Whatever fulfillment the maiden had found in her starry storyteller, she found oceans of depth in the blurry, bleary, baby-blue eyes of her four children. They looked like him; they looked like her. It was mere insanity to look at them, and see an extension of herself.

Of her father.
Of Adonis’s mother.
Their tiny faces were reflections of ancestors neither of them would ever know.

The distance between the rainforest and the north was grand, but made far shorter with the use of the tunnels. Still, whatever rest Euphemia had found amongst the halls of Tianlong was undone with so much movement of her postpartum body –

however, soon her babies would know Frostfang Vale. Their home, secured by their grandmother and grandfather and nurtured in perpetuity by every aunt and uncle one could count. There, they would play with their cousins and make those memories that were so foundational to childhood.

But first, they had to get there.

The new mother blinked against the light of morning. At the moment, they beheld an array of sleeping, curling cubs, – but she knew that her aching paws must take to their accustomed path once more.

At the end of this day, was home. Soon, all would begin to stir. For now, they slept. They looked so peaceful, even Adonis, who was ever-calm anyway; and Euphemia felt a swelling in her chest that was impossible to put into words. It was incomparable to anything she had ever felt before;

so, she steeped in it like they were warm water and she were the herbs for tea. They drew out her essence, and made her more. Quietly, her tongue darted forward to swipe at one of the baby's foreheads.

She would want to remember these moments, all the smells and the tastes and the sensations, in the years to come.

your idol

Sun, 13 Sep 2026 17:07:01 -0400

OOC

Backdated to full moon 8/28 —
AW for Avon, , family, etc!

The night came, but Montrose did not sleep.

Instead, he sat at the edge of the den, staring outward into the dimly lit world. Traces of the moon's silver wrapped around the fields, catching in the low-hanging mist. And Montrose would allow his senses the moment to unravel, his nose sniffing and his eyes hazy and heavy with the lack of sleep. A sleep he denied himself.

Despite the heft of his eyelids, he could not sleep.

Something about the soft pitter-patter of the rain ... something about the glow of the moon ... something ... something ... kept him wide-eyed and alert. Well, at least half alert. The boy stifled a yawn, lips stretching wide. And then he frowned.

A sigh would drag from his lips, potent and heavy as he lifted his little body and stretched his front legs. His rump waved in the air, but it was not the flag of play. Not today. Today, Montrose was cranky.

And the low rumble of thunder in the distance seemed to agree.

I Didn't Know What I was Looking For, Til I Found Her

Sat, 12 Sep 2026 16:13:30 -0400

The northern island had become one of Fenglan's favorite places to wander.

There was something strangely comforting about it. The old volcano loomed beyond the trees, its ancient fire long since silenced beneath layers of cold earth and moss. Life had reclaimed what the dragon's fury had once scarred, and now lush greenery stretched across the blackened remnants of the island's past. Ferns crowded the forest floor, flowers pushed through volcanic soil, and the sea whispered endlessly along the distant shore.

Fenglan had spent much of his time here lately.

But rarely alone.

He had remained beside Sindri since her family welcomed them into their home, and somewhere along the way, staying had stopped feeling like a decision.

It had simply become his life.

He hunted for her when she was too tired to go herself. He brought her the best portions of his catches without thinking twice. When sickness left her exhausted, he stayed close, quietly watching over her until she felt better. At night, he curled his much larger body around hers, allowing her to settle against his chest while they watched the stars emerge above the treetops.

And every day, he loved her a little more.

Fenglan hadn't known love could feel so frightening.

He had been raised to protect an entire kingdom. That had always been an abstract duty—something grand and distant, something expected of a prince.

Sindri was different. Protecting her meant everything.

And now there were little lives growing inside her that made his heart ache with a tenderness he had never known how to name.

His gaze drifted toward her swollen belly as they walked together beneath the canopy. He was quiet for several moments, crimson eyes tracing the surrounding forest with the careful attention of someone already evaluating every possible place to settle.

Then he looked toward Sindri.

His expression softened. I've been thinking. His ears dipped slightly, already nervous about saying it aloud. We should find somewhere for you to have the little ones. Fenglan glanced around the island again, considering the thick vegetation, the shelter offered by the trees, and the distance from the coastline. A den, he clarified quietly. Somewhere warm. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere I can make safe for you. He looked back at her, offering a small, almost shy smile.

I want to prepare it before you need it. His shoulder brushed gently against hers. And... His voice grew softer. I want to build it with you.

For once, the thought of the future did not frighten him quite as much, because when Fenglan imagined it, he didn't see a throne. He saw Sindri beside him. He saw a den filled with warmth. And he saw tiny paws.

I cried and I tried for you, And I hope you forgive me for it

Sat, 12 Sep 2026 15:05:24 -0400

Dated 8/20 ; day 9/14 of heat
♫♫

The mountains were beautiful. It really did remind her of home; the striking ice caps reaching for the heavens above, the forest wrapping about the foothills. Snow Peak was much, much larger, but something about the smaller area made Saga feel like it was just for her. The idea did little to quell her desperate need to run, hide, forget. She was tired of places she knew. She was tired of the same patterns repeating themselves time after time.
She'd napped, at some point. Found herself a fallen, rotten tree to climb in the center of; a space so small she had to back in, and she'd wedged herself as far back as her plush little frame would go. Sleep had been fitful, and plagued harshly by nightmares of the last days. She hadn't bothered to groom herself in any fashion yet, nor eat, though she did remember drinking from an icy pond at some point in the journey. At the edge of the forest, she thought, before she'd begun the ascent. She couldn't have told any worrying passerby how long she'd been on her own -- an hour, a day, a week, a month, maybe a year. No, not so long, she thought. She still stank of heat, and the stale, muddled scents of blood and mud and sex still clung to her. Her pelt was beginning to grow matted in several places now, eye dull and crusted with tears she never bothered to wipe away. She was a right pitiful sight, but further, further, further she went.

Up the summit, and deep, deep into its reaches. So far, she could once again see the ocean but was too far to touch it. Briefly, she thought to climb all the way back down and go find a beach. Even a cold one would satisfy the spite rising up her throat, burning like hot coals.
But she couldn't do it. Without Jaxxon by her side, she wasn't sure she even wanted to see a proper sprawling golden-sanded beach anymore. Verdants Grace had their own stretch of shore, but it'd been so crowded it'd stressed her out more than impressed her, and she just... wanted to enjoy it with her husband.

The thought soured her already bleak mood, and she whipped around to forge back into the mountains with a faint, frustrated growl.

What the fuck was she supposed to do? Sit around and wait, see if Jaxx had ever listened to a word out of her mouth? Would he bother to come find her even if he remembered to come to the depths of the coldest peak? Maybe he was busy fucking some pretty, scarless whore already. Maybe he was turning their children against their crazy fucking mother.
Maybe he'd already invited Joxer home. The thought made her run cold, but she tried to shove down the ball of fear knotting her throat. No, she thought. No, Jaxx would drown in his sorrows a little first. Sulk. He may, in fact, have decided to warm his side with another body, and at best she could only hope he didn't have the audacity to do it in their den, too.

The truth was, she wanted him to feel bad. She wanted him to cry alone in that den like she had so many times, and she wanted him to think about all the pain she had endured for him. All the time she'd been by his side without hesitation. She wanted him to feel the sting of loneliness when it felt like nobody wanted you.
But it was Jaxxon she was thinking about. The women of the pack had probably already tried to take her place at his side by now, and he had probably indulged them all. 'Couldn't help myself,' she could hear him say, 'I missed you so much.'

Tears dripped down the unscarred side of Saga's face as she plodded on, defeated.

She wished for nothing more than a hot bath and a good several mouthfuls of fermented berries, but those comforts were left back home with the love of her life and their babes.