(Birthing)
There is no pain as the child is born. In fact there is nothing at all. The boy comes to her swiftly, and she is pleased. His coat the color of the trees surrounding them, broken by an island of white and dotted with the colors of lilac and sapphire. He smells of her own blood. The hard work she had put into the child paying off. He was here, and she found it in her to be proud.
She had lost everything for this. Including her dearest.
While not blood, the stallion was going to father the child. Raise him to be just as twisted as the two of them had been. But alas, she had grown weak in the knees for a boy, and he had abandoned her. But as she lay in the hollow, her son pulled close to her bodice, she seeks him out. Her voice a shrill cry upon the wind for her dearest Clown king.
The boy (Whom she would call Lázádo) let out a shrill scream of his own, his pale eyes wandering over his mothers hide. He drinks greedily, small body curling into her as he falls silently into the rhythm of sleep.
For anyone else, Lillith would scream weakness, and turn tail. But this was her flesh and blood, and it was strength. The child would grow to be great. He would grow to make her proud. She allows him to sleep as she awaits the imminent return of her lover. Though the sleep could not last forever, and when her dearest arrived they would leave. Leave as they had planned.
Together.
(SCHMITY I KNOW IM SORRY <333))
09-20-2017, 09:05 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-22-2017, 10:06 PM by Modicum Mortem.)
Don't push me, I've got nothing to lose. He hasn't strayed far.
A brief appearance at Sylva's raid, and a meeting of the newfound kingdom, and he was right back where had had been for months - stalking the mare whose presence he found more intriguing than others. They hadn't spoken to each other throughout the winter - she had left him out of fear, a trait he does not take kindly to. But he couldn't help but to watch her birth his child, no matter his pent-up anger.
It doesn't take long, and the newborn slides out from his mother effortlessly. She is strong. Mortem thinks to himself. Most mares would be doubled over in pain, taking hours to birth their children; but Lazado slips out in minutes, and soon she is on her feet.
His twisted flame called to him - an urgent cry upon the wind. The spotted child stands momentarily, and mimics his mother's call before drinking her milk hastily. The clown emerges from his hiding spot, and takes place in front of his mare.
"Is he worthy?" He does not waste time. Lillith had already proven herself, but he would not take the child unless he was deserving of a place in Sylva. "I have saved us a place in Gryffen's new kingdom."
Modicum Mortem
She snaps her teeth at the question. Despite what she felt for him she was angered. "How could anything I build not be worthy dearest? My blood runs in this child. The very marrow in his bones was crafted by me.... of course he is worthy." She stands then, urging the bay colt to follow. Without a sound he stands, icy gaze landing upon his father of sorts. The boy is a marvel, a beautiful gem awaiting his maker. For she could mold him into the perfect litle prince. A standing stone amongst the changing current of Beqanna. Lázádo was proving to be a wonderful little chess piece in their game already. "I whs to aquire another, and i feel as though I know where to find him." Her words are swift as she watches her child, gaze cutting briefly to Morty before she is on the move, dark tail dragging behind her. Lillith Elvira cruel intentions I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams
((the boy she is referring too is Whitechapel c  )
Don't push me, I've got nothing to lose. The clown grins as his flame snaps on him. Her temper was always desirable, and quite frankly, it turned him on. He circles the boy for a moment, giving him a sniff, then nodding in approval at how quickly he stands.
"That's my boy." His coat nearly identical to his mother, who is now moving away to find yet another child. "Don't be so hasty, my queen. The other, we must choose him wisely." A growl through clenched teeth as he allows himself to nip selfishly at her rump. He move side steps to avoid her back legs, then canters up to her front, stopping her in place. "You left me once...are you still mine?" Eyes narrowed onto her sleek frame, a question he had been itching to ask her for months. She had escaped him once, made him a fool, he wouldn't allow it to happen again.
Modicum Mortem
 A trick question. One only truly answered by fools. Her absence had been a quick one it felt. Few mere months and he was already itching for her to give into him like sand into the ocean. "Why my dearest Morty I am no one's." She whispers, maw affectionaetly brushing over his cheek as she watches him, eyes alert with that of her next move. "Though for the sake of calling a Jack a Spade, Yes.. Yes I am yours Modicum." Her son, their son, moves towards them, his walk like that of his parents. Powerful in a graceful way (as graceful as any child could be) yet he does not speak. He listens, a quality much respected by his painted dam. "As for the boy... I shall let you choose dearest. You do have the greatest sense of judgment." She purrs, eyes rolling over the clown king's frame. Oh how she had missed her dearest Morty! "I trust you will find the perfect companion for our Zade." Her lips pull into a wicked grin as she glances at her son who stood so sleepily at her side. His ears perk, a swift movement and he is speaking for the first time, his voice like that of summer rain. Soft and wavering. "Papa?" And he is staring at the ink colored stag before him, eyes wide with an assesing glare. Lillith Elvira cruel intentions I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams
Don't push me, I've got nothing to lose. An answer well received, Modicum allows his muzzle to trace over her frame. He did not expect her to say yes; if she had, he would've felt disappointed that she had softened over the short time they were separated. She could never truly be his, as he could never truly be hers. However, they needed each other to be successful...together they would do great things, him and his queen. They were free, the two of them...being tied down to one equine just wasn't what they were destined for. A bite on her shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and he leers up at her through icy eyes.
"Ah Lillith, an answer well chosen, my flame." He glances over at the child, who joins the pair without interrupting. He wobbles under newborn feet, but walks with the dignity of his mother and the power of Mortem. His frame littered with Lillith's beautiful splotches, and his mind soon to be influenced by Modicum's own beliefs. Ebony ears flick forward as the child speaks, voice soft, unsure.
"Papa?" He mutters, feeling out the word. The clown goes over to his son - never mind who his sperm donor is, this child is his. He looks at Lillith, grinning through crooked teeth, then brushes the tufts of hair lining Zade's neck, telling him that he is indeed his father.
"You have created something wonderful, my dearest. Zade and his companion...they will do great things," He turns his crown back to Lillith. "I'll make sure of it. The freak show lifts his head, looking down at the child who would some day tower over him, and walks over to Lillith, touching her barrel with his own. He then begins to walk, beginning the journey to find yet another child to bring to Sylva.
Modicum Mortem
@[Lillith Elvira] Feel free to bring in Whitechapel at any time 
10-02-2017, 09:31 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-02-2017, 09:32 AM by Lillith Elvira.)
I'll be the actress starring in your bad dreams... They wander, often taking stops so the bay child could nurse or sleep. His mother rarely choosing to do the later as well. Lillith stays awake. Eyes peeled for her second prince (or princess). They waited for the gods to gift them with what they wanted, and short was the wait. They find the boy curled into the body of his mother, small blue eyes perring at them from beneath dark lashes. He is beautiful, ink in color but blown with white. The dark doe beside him lays silent, murdered by the life beside her. Yes... yes this boy would do. "Come child. She isnt coming back for you." Lillith whispers, a soft edge to the steel of her voice as she reaches for him. He comes willingly, famed with hunger and urged with lonsomeness. He finds her teat, and without complaint from his brother of sorts he drinks hungrily. Lillith's eyes find Morty, a sort of pleased loft about her stature as she watches her lover. "What shall we call him my dearest? I wish for him to stay.." Lillith Elvira
((PS her new html is AMAZE <333)
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Proin luctus tempus orci sit amet mattis. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae; Duis mollis metus id augue tincidunt vehicula. Aliquam erat volutpat. Nam luctus nisi nec lorem dignissim, nec condimentum eros bibendum. Ut vestibulum orci ac volutpat aliquet. Morbi sed tellus a metus rhoncus consequat. Maecenas tincidunt iaculis ullamcorper. Mauris mattis risus nec rutrum dictum. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Integer pharetra dui quis odio gravida euismod.
Aliquam at tellus nisi. Nullam vel elementum justo, in lacinia tortor. Nam eget augue placerat, interdum mi eu, eleifend diam. Nullam rhoncus risus ac enim ornare, a blandit orci eleifend. Nullam libero turpis, hendrerit et ante id, sagittis sodales ipsum. Curabitur in diam lorem. Nunc hendrerit quis diam tempor vestibulum. Aenean mauris metus, sodales a vestibulum vitae, consectetur ac nisi. Whitechapel
((IDK what happened with the last post but its not letting me delete ittttt D: ))
Quote Goes Here They come to him not long after he is born into the world. The ink of nght spreading to his coat, unlike the mare next to him he has survived the birthing. He has survived so the mare before him may become his dam, so the stallion with her may become his father, and so the boy accompanying them may become his brother. With little coaxing he is risen, eagirly lapping what milk the mare has to offer. He leans into the woman, ignoring the snorts of complaint from the other boy, he has been alone for what felt like forever, and the other would not ruin this day dream for him. "What shall we call him dearest?" The doe speaks, peering at the ebony stallion before them. His own blue hues travel to the man, eagirly awaiting his response. Whitechapel
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