[ P ] Comfortably Numb

Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange.

Blythe sat at the edge of a clearing, alone, amber sights fixed upon nothing as she stared into the dusky sky, as the night would soon conquer the day. The white wolfess had been hidden away in Perth in hopes that she would not be found, as her belly swelled larger each day. It was nothing in comparison to her last pregnancy, the agony of carrying three giants. This way, it was easier to ignore what was happening, never to form any sort of emotional attachment to the lives she intended to give up. She would not dream of names to give them, nor speak gently to them before they arrived. She simply pretended it was not happening at all.


Ivory tail flicked behind the wolfess, a moment of irritation for no one else to see. Hunting had become laborious in her current state. Tonight, she would attempt another hunt in the night. In the meantime, she had time to kill, which meant time for her mind to wander.


At least she would never have to see Tiberius’ children again, once her duty was fulfilled. As long as one of the litter could reach the age to no longer require her involvement, that was enough. It had been a loveless act, just as it was the first time… but at least she could respect Tiberius, which was much more than she could say about her deceased husband. She spoke aloud to no one, her voice hoarse: ”Beatha airson beatha.” – A life for a life. Only in this instance, it was not claiming the life of one person in retribution. For Blythe, it was creating a life to save her own.

For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself

@Coal

So much to do, so little time to do it. He arranged his business In the mountains to be done first and foremost- and he's accomplished that just so. His next task would be to snoop around the forest of the fae, see if any lost wanders had something for him to pick from a satchel or a home to follow them home to. That destination would of course require him to go marching through Perth from the base of the mountains.

His travels were usually quick when it came to wandering through the highlands, he usually found no threats or poor souls to engage that would fall victim to his mischief. He always wanted to hurry to the mainlands, and this time he would have to make his appearances scarse and hasty- the last battle would surely have the Imperial pea-brains on some sort of high alert for his kind.

His time was rather impressive, easily making his way through Perth with zero detours. That is, however, until he would be distracted by an all too familiar scent. One that blended closely with the pines that he wandered around. This however, was no scent of a stationary tree. It was if a four legged woman, one her knew all too well. A boy never forgets his momma.

Brows would furrow as he searched for the woman in white robes. Another scent, one hard to pick apart would entangle into one, all leading him to his mother. He was not sneaky in his approach, he made himself known all too easily with each paw step he cast forth on the forest floor. She was.. different in this encounter. He was not careful in his steps near her, a small coo falling to his mother in response to her little quote. And who's life are we taking on this fine evening? he would circle around her before finding a spot infront of her, with a small distance between them. He awaited her answer, curious to see how he'd be recieved.

table ; bunny

Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange.

and who's life are we taking on this fine evening? Coal was careless as he approached, assuming that his mother would be accepting of his presence. But his appearance inspired no maternal warmth within her chest, and no smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Her expression was cold, with a single orange eye narrowing as her son sat before her. ”No one.” Could he not see the changes in her – the rounded features, swollen belly? ”An aghaidh a' bhàis tha beatha.” – The opposite of death is life.”


He looked like his father, but more handsome, with softer features than the hateful glare of his sire. Then again, her vision was not what it once was. Blythe hoped that he was nothing like the monster, hoped that Coal didn’t even remember the wretched beast. But in truth, she knew nothing of her offspring now that they were grown. Now that they no longer needed her. She didn’t know him any better than he knew her now — and there was much that Coal didn’t know.


She had worried for her boys, though she would never say it aloud. They were young and still had so much to lose. But she had influence over who they were, where they were going, who they would become – much like the growing life she carried now. In that way, they were no different.


Could he remember the wolf who had sired him, the way he was treated in his earliest months? Until Blythe took matters into her own paws… ”D' athair,” she growled – Your father. ”Do you remember him? You almost look like him. But not as much as... am fear eile…” – the other one. But she was not alluding to Finch. There was a pup that had been Argos’ carbon copy, a child she assumed neither Coal nor Finch could remember.

For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself

@Coal