10-05-2015, 03:13 PM
She cannot wait to pop this damn kid out.
She is so damn tired of her big fat belly, her ridiculous mood swings and food cravings, and her painfully swollen ankles. She is done, SO done.
When the labour pangs finally hit her she rushes off to a secluded clearing, eager to get the whole thing over with. And she’s lucky - it’s an easy birth (though obviously not comfortable), and the child is out on the Jungle floor in under an hour.
She breathes a sigh of relief as she heaves herself back to her feet. She’d been slightly afraid of having the same difficulty as Scorch, but she’s escaped that fate thank god.
On her feet, she turns to look at the sticky blob, head cocked to the side. It’s so … small. And gross. It doesn’t even look like a foal. She takes a few tentative steps forward and sniffs at it. Ew. Not a good smell. And wait, she’s supposed to lick that? The blob stirs, and she can finally see the head. It’s cute sort of? In a gross, unappealing sort of way?
Ugh she might as well get this over with.
Cringing, she reaches down and starts to clean the blob off with her tongue. “Oh yuck!” This is not her idea of fun.
As the gunk is cleaned away, the child begins to take on a more defined shape. The coat is dark, like Gaza’s, but the tiny rump is covered in a spotted blanket that matches Lyris’ own. And, horror of horrors, it’s a girl. Well this will be interesting.
She glances hesitantly up at the sky. It had been storming during the birth (the usual thunder and lightning), but it’s now returned to a dull, grumpy grey. Her eyes narrow. Her mother had always loved to tell her of the trouble she’d caused during and after her own birth - the sky had turned black, the rain had poured down in a torrent, and lightning had set several trees on fire. The noticeable absence of this makes her think that the girl might not be a weather user. Thank God. The Jungle might not be able to handle a second one.
She exhales, looking back down at the kid, who’s now blinking up at her with a set of unusual copper coloured eyes. Kind of … sweet, in their own way. “What are you lookin’ at?” Oh. Right. It’s … she’s probably hungry. And she should probably give the kid a name. “Umm … how about … Lexa? Yeah I’ll call you Lexa. And uh …” Now would be a good time to get up kid.
She is so damn tired of her big fat belly, her ridiculous mood swings and food cravings, and her painfully swollen ankles. She is done, SO done.
When the labour pangs finally hit her she rushes off to a secluded clearing, eager to get the whole thing over with. And she’s lucky - it’s an easy birth (though obviously not comfortable), and the child is out on the Jungle floor in under an hour.
She breathes a sigh of relief as she heaves herself back to her feet. She’d been slightly afraid of having the same difficulty as Scorch, but she’s escaped that fate thank god.
On her feet, she turns to look at the sticky blob, head cocked to the side. It’s so … small. And gross. It doesn’t even look like a foal. She takes a few tentative steps forward and sniffs at it. Ew. Not a good smell. And wait, she’s supposed to lick that? The blob stirs, and she can finally see the head. It’s cute sort of? In a gross, unappealing sort of way?
Ugh she might as well get this over with.
Cringing, she reaches down and starts to clean the blob off with her tongue. “Oh yuck!” This is not her idea of fun.
As the gunk is cleaned away, the child begins to take on a more defined shape. The coat is dark, like Gaza’s, but the tiny rump is covered in a spotted blanket that matches Lyris’ own. And, horror of horrors, it’s a girl. Well this will be interesting.
She glances hesitantly up at the sky. It had been storming during the birth (the usual thunder and lightning), but it’s now returned to a dull, grumpy grey. Her eyes narrow. Her mother had always loved to tell her of the trouble she’d caused during and after her own birth - the sky had turned black, the rain had poured down in a torrent, and lightning had set several trees on fire. The noticeable absence of this makes her think that the girl might not be a weather user. Thank God. The Jungle might not be able to handle a second one.
She exhales, looking back down at the kid, who’s now blinking up at her with a set of unusual copper coloured eyes. Kind of … sweet, in their own way. “What are you lookin’ at?” Oh. Right. It’s … she’s probably hungry. And she should probably give the kid a name. “Umm … how about … Lexa? Yeah I’ll call you Lexa. And uh …” Now would be a good time to get up kid.
Lyris
I’ll burn this whole city down
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