[+ ebonite +]

The time was here. In the days leading up to it, Persephone had felt it in her gut. Her mind had been ticking down the days anyway and it seemed that her mind was in sync with her body. She rose early in the morning, uncomfortable and aching. Within an hour, her labor had begun, the slow contractions moving along her body with a painful rhythm. She paced, finding that moving helped far more than standing still, even if she was already getting tired. Nerves gnawed at her. This was her first child and she was afraid of something going wrong. It was an odd feeling. She'd never felt afraid like this before. She was a cambion, a child of the Underworld, and moreover a child of a former Lady of the Underworld. All her life she had exuded confidence at this fact, knowing that she was better than most mortals and failure had never been an option. But with the unfamiliar territory of labor, she felt herself giving in to that primal fear of what if I don't survive this? It felt silly even as she thought it, but the fear wasn't so easy to drive off.

It was past noon when Cahethal returned from his patrol and saw her pacing. He knew immediately without her saying a word what was happening. 'I'm here,' he said to her, gently, pressing his muzzle to her cheek, 'if you need anything, I'm here.' She couldn't think of anything in particular that she needed that he could provide. He could not speed up the process nor take on any of the burden himself. "Talk to me. Distract me," she ended up saying, "something to pass the time." For time was the enemy here. She could endure the pain itself. It was the not knowing how long it would last or how it would end that was the problem. And so he talked to her. Told her stories from their childhood. Silly things, some memories that she had forgotten and was delighted to remember again. He told her of more urgent times too, like the fire that had consumed Toxin Raj and driven them to come here instead. She did not regret leaving. Toxin Raj would always be her childhood home, but she liked Sinheim and hoped that after the birth of her child, she could be more of an asset to the herd. Her spying had unfortunately been halted, probably indefinitely. Her pregnancy had made things too complicated for her to stay in Eacarrah. It was disappointing, but she knew she could find something else to do afterward. Once her child was properly weaned, she would train them and then she would be free to take up any missions that Harlan wanted. Birthing a cambion child was valuable too, after all. Sinheim was rather full of them already. The Helkaer were making great strides in building up their army.

Eventually Persephone had to tell Cahethal to stop because the pain had become too great for her to focus. Her teeth were clenched and her coat was drenched in sweat. Luckily it was a cloudy day today so she did not have to shelter indoors because of her albino coat. She listened when her body told her to lay down. Less than an hour later, she was pushing. Cahethal remained a silent, supportive presence beside her. Not once did he look away. She loved him for that.

When the pressure eased, she lay there for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath, relieved at the lack of active contractions, though her body still ached. Looking down, she watched the bundle at her legs begin to stir. Her heart clenched. My child is alive. I am alive. The realization and the surge of hormones made her want to cry, but she refrained. Instead, she got herself up and set to cleaning both herself and the child. It was a colt, with a white and chestnut pelt and red eyes. The biohazard symbol was on his right knee in a shade of gray. He seemed the perfect combination of them both. The colt stood shortly after her, his spindly legs shaking a bit, but a bite of determination in his eyes. He would be a strong one. "Kholat," she murmured to him as he began to nurse. She gestured to Cahethal and the stallion joined the two of them, his eyes looking at his son with fascination and warmth. Kholat was a name they had discussed prior to all of this, regardless of gender. "Our son is beautiful," she said to Cahethal, smiling at him genuinely. She rested her head against his shoulder, relishing in this brief moment of rest. Soon enough, the work would begin.


timeline summer, basically
notes aaand kholat is here! open to anyone in sinheim that wants to join c:
tag open

"Speech"

[fleabittengray]

F e n r i r

DON'T FRET PRECIOUS I'M HERE

Sly was dead. It still seemed surreal to him. The former Helkaer Commander had seemed invincible, unstoppable. Yet she had perished. Fenrir was still perturbed by it, and still healing from the fire that had turned Oinaze to ash. The healing process was nearly over, but he would forever bare the scars from the fire along his legs and underbelly, though mainly his legs. Scars did not bother him, however. Losing someone he had considered like a friend, however? That did bother him. He wouldn't speak of it, Fenrir wasn't much of a talker, especially when it came to emotions, but he was genuinely upset about Sly being dead. He could only hope that she had ended up in the Underworld and her rain of hellfire would fall heavily upon any who sought to stop her. The thought made him smile, reaching to adjust the dire wolf pelt that sprawled across his back. Yes, she would make a formidable demon.

At least Harlan had allowed him to stay in Sinheim since Oinaze burned, welcoming him into her herd with relative open arms. He hoped he could at least make himself useful to her, once the burns were fully healed. He was growing bored with his healing and yearned for the day he could leave the Outlands again and get himself into all sorts of trouble. Walking forward, he sighed, the wolf pelt shifting against his shoulders with every stride. Some of the edges had been singed by the fire but for the most part, the pelt was still perfect. And he no longer walked with a limp, nor did his lungs feel like they were filled with smoke. His breaths did not come in rasps and wheezes anymore. He just had to wait for the burns to finish healing. Such a tedious process...

As he walked, he became aware of the scent of something that was typically quite alarming - blood. His stride faltered a moment, readying himself to sound the alarm, when he realized there was something else within that metallic scent: birth. Oh. One of the herd mare's must have just had her foal, then. Curious, but cautious, since he still had yet to meet anyone in the herd, Fenrir began to walk in the direction of the scents. When he made it to the birthing area, where the scents were strongest, he halted a good several feet away, respecting the mare who was most likely an ally and member of the herd alongside him. He dipped his head, wolf-like eyes surveying the scene before him. A mare, a foal, and who Fenrir assumed was the father all stood there - the foal on much wobblier legs than the adults, but, still standing nonetheless.

"Hello, I am Fenrir," he spoke, turning his attention to the foal then, a polite grin on his face. "Born strong and healthy, by the looks of it! Congratulations."


SPEAK.
[Tagged: + ebonite + w/ Persephone, Cahethal, Kholat]
[Words: 483]
[Character: Fenrir]
[Notes: Hope you don't mind him popping in :3]
[Timeline: 9 years 3 months, summer, mid-day?, after Oinaze burns]

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