My words are unerring tools of destruction; Femur/Any

[Gansey]

my words are unerring tools of destruction

He was not meant to be a lost boy. He was not un unwanted child, an unloved child, a child of convenience. It was an accident – he’d been napping, and she had been a little ways away, and when he woke he wandered off before she could catch him. Even now, perhaps Darking is looking for her colt, but it is days later, and surely the trail is cold.

And besides any attempts he has made to find her, and she him, the fact is that a reunion hasn’t happened. But this mare has found him, and speaks softly, and fed him. He is warm now, tucked up against her side and pleasantly full, and yearns for the safety she has offered him. There is the smallest part of his little fuzzy brain that prickles uncomfortably, reminding him of his quest for his mother, but already he is drifting away from those thoughts.

So he goes.

Perhaps she will become impatient at the slow speed of traveling with a colt, but more likely since she chose to pick one up in the Forest, she will be willing to travel the speed of a curious toddler. Femur steers their general direction but as his energy level rises, Gansey starts to give in to his curious nature, flitting back and forth across the path to look at a mushroom there, a colorful butterfly here, a twisted branch above his head. “Where are we going?” he asks early on, and that is only the beginning of a litany of questions, some more logical than others. Why are some trees taller than others? How do baby birds learn how to fly? How can worms breathe underground? And so on, and so forth.

It grows warmer around them, humid, and he wrinkles his nose at the strange scent until it grows familiar. “It smells kind of funny,” he says carefully, trying not to offend, but scampering back from his wanderings to walk closely to Femur again anyway.

gansey

and I've become unequipped with the ability to disarm them

@[Femur]

[Femur]

I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.

Femur is the mother of misfits.

She finds them - via accident or luck, she finds them and makes them her own. Each misfit becomes her misfit. One more in a collection of like children that have been left by their mothers, even if only for a little while: colts and fillies left to nap as the mothers graze in broadening circles that take them further and further away until Femur sneaks in, a ghost-girl with a fanged smile, and gives them what the mothers should have been giving them - milk, love, and closer attention than their own mothers thought to give them.

Femur excels at this, she decides.

It is how she found him, her little Gansey-boy and why now, he follows her without a moment’s hesitation. Even if he had hesitated in the slightest, she would have goaded him on with more mothering touches and crooned praise. But he is a diligent boy and follows, though she lets him determine their pace because he is curious as all children are. “Home,” she tells him, certain that is not enough for the boy’s brain given his sudden barrage of questions that make her breathless with laughter.

Polite and curious! He has a good head on his shoulders and a foundation that Femur can further shape. “To Tephra. She is a land lush and beautiful but also unforgiving at times.” It is all that she offers him; he must discover the pitfalls and passions of Tephra for himself as the rest of her small brood have and as she had (though she had help from her beloved mate). There is not enough words to describe the sea, the islands, the peninsula, the volcano and best of all - the tiny island that is her mate’s heart-home, that she takes all her children to. Sometimes, the best is saved for last…

She never turns him from her side or calls to him to keep close - he is a boy and a curious one at that! So she gives his head and lets him have room to explore on their trek home. Femur cannot contain her gentle laugh as he gets his first gasp of Tephran air - sulphuric and strange until it settles in the lungs like it had always been there. She got used to it, and so will he. “It does, doesn’t it?” she adds with another chuckle from her fanged lips before bending to plant a kiss on his forehead. “It comes from the big volcano in the heart of Tephra. It smokes and gurgles, sometimes spews ash and lava.” Femur is educating him, not attempting to frighten but to make light of the dangers that are present.

Neither of them will have much to fear from the overzealous population of wild pigs, her mate sees to that especially around their little island tucked in the crook of the sea’s arms. She’ll take him there soon enough, to meet his brother and sister and her mate. Unless Claw has once again spotted her on the shore with another foal in tow… Once more, her head bends to his level and she looks him square in the eye - “What would you like to see first?"

Femur

@[Gansey] @[Valensia] @[Longclaw] tagged some of femur's family so Gansey can meet them too! <3

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

For once, Longclaw hardly minds that Femur is gone.

He means this in the best way; Wildling was pressed against the curve of his furry back when he’d awoken (It was imperative that his son know both his forms, that he could see the beast and know it was still alright) and rounding a blinking face upon the youngling, Claw had felt the stake of purpose driven directly through that shriveled heart of his. Femur, beloved as she would always be, had known best and opened a door that had long been locked and shuttered.

She is the light of his world, continuing to illuminate all that is best and fearsome in him.

Naturally, then, he wakes his son by dragging a ferocious, wet tongue up the bridge of his ombre nose. This day is theirs, (his invisible girl is busy, as she always seems to be these days) so they waste no time in making the most of it. Claw finds that settling into his duties as Father are similar to those of a Guard: he trails in Wildling’s hoofsteps, leaving faint pawprints at the epicenter of his curved little marks, saying nothing unless asked and allowing the boy true freedom in the way of exploring.

There is no place on their home island that Wilding can wander where Longclaw will not be close by to keep an eye on him. Femur has entrusted him with this task and he will repeat the duty infinitely - however many foals she chooses to string along like ducklings - because there is exciting joy in watching the mannerisms of his offspring.“My daily rounds have never been so silly, or so interesting …” He thinks, watching the colt with an approving look as Wildling investigates the tide pools. And so the two bond.

A day is a day to them and it stretches thin, bringing along a tempered breeze and the smell of his mate returning home. In an instant he is horse; the wolf forgotten and left inside while he tapers himself to the natural feel of his fire-skin. Wilding, sensing the change in demeanor and understanding the notion of his father’s oddball bodies, draws close with curiosity. “Mother’s home.” The elder stallion relates, a quick smile pulling the bow of his lips taught.

Wildling’s reaction though … it gives Longclaw pause to consider if he’ll have to compete with Femur for his own son’s affection. Nothing can be done to contain the rattling excitement that sends their boy racing away, quick as a dart over the sands; nothing aside from kicking up his own blue heels to follow.

From a distance she materializes, a habit as much a part of herself as anything, and with surprise that is beginning to become less and less animated he sees she’s brought back another youngling with her. What can he do but shake his head? Already Wilding is upon her, the idea that he’ll have another sibling to keep him company much more interesting than a blue babysitter. Claw joins them expectantly and in the moment of their reunion, forgets for a minute that there is anyone but her before him. Femur has ascended to nearly goddess-like stature in his thoughts; everything about her, (from the dark tint of her heathen stare to the silver strands of her luscious tail) everything is perfect.

“Someone is bound to notice your habits, darling.” He teases, aware that she’d stolen one but the others, he only guesses. It doesn’t matter, of course. What she lays claim to is hers by right and if any come looking for them, they’ll find teeth at their throats and fire in their lungs. “Tell me what you’ve found.” He breathes against her, taking liberties to press himself into every wanton curve of her golden body.

Over the supple hills of her rump he glances sidelong, quick to catch sight of the grullo colt and for a moment, he simply stares. Then, the wide flash of his signature smile exposes fangs and Longclaw, the beast that roved the Tephran shore, winks conspiratorially at Gansey.

[Valensia]

Valensia

Though insignificantly small, the beetle whips its frantic wings, threatening violence towards the whiskery nostrils of the considerably larger filly sprawled out in the grasses. Soaking up the warmth of the sun; her tail thumping its discontent; amber eyes flit from the bug to the sun and back to the land that still sparks a sense of awe inside of her. The moment Valensia laid eyes on the land of Tephra a rightness settled in her chest that she hadn’t realized was missing before. Here in the heat and lush vegetation the roan filly knows she can lose herself to this world of perfection. Getting lost in her explorations has been the sole occupier of her days since Femur left to find another foal to add to the ever-growing collection.
Today has been an especially lazy one. Life just seemed to crawl by as animals of all sorts take a moment to rest and breathe in the perfumed air of Tephra. She’s been watching this beetle buzz its threats long enough to have forgotten time. Lazily the sun slips away leaving the sky on fire in its wake. She still must meet most of the new family, and become more acquainted with the ones that she has already encountered. As she puzzles over how and what to say; so that she does not feel as a silly little girl shy and dumb, she hears the announcement of her mother’s return. Fuzzy ears perk forward in eager curiosity as to what it is, that is causing a larger commotion than she is previously accustomed to.
The filly finds herself getting up from the spot her gangly body had occupied for the duration of the day. Now that the heat is tempering and the sky is consumed with the embers of the glowing flames she finds herself slightly disappointed that the world’s slumber must come so soon. Stretching cramped muscles, she shakes out her tuft of a mane before taking steps to cross over to the gathering group. It’s not as if she isn’t prone to wandering, but she is smart enough to know that she is not old enough to stray too far from the group.
When she joins the rest, and takes note of all who are present. The selfish, indulgent part of her basks in the fact that the only other female is mother. She has been enjoying the spotlight as the only girl amongst them. Feeling as a cocooned princess, doted on as such, with no need to vie another female for any of the family’s attentions. The boys, she feels, are different. There is just a certain note of care she believes that she receives as being the only daughter. She could be wrong for all she knows, but a little indulgence in her fantasy helps her through the transition into her new world. A bright bubbly grin splits her face as she looks at the new comer. He seems to have just as many questions as herself. Her strange wings flare in excitement before settling themselves against her shoulders once more.
She is quick to display her affection, bumping noses with her brother, and mother that she is familiar with, before going up to the male that would be her father, should he have her. Innocent eyes widen as his skin looks strange in the lighting. Mesmerized by it she can’t help but stare a little before he too is an object to receive her eager embrace. Finally, she turns to the new guy still full of excitement at the prospect of a new addition to the family. She trots up to him, offering the same affection she has given to the others. I’m Valensia; hey you have wings like me. Still she hasn’t grasped how to use them, but the prospect of someone sharing in that talent warms her.

“And there was you - your fair self,
always delicately dressed,
with white firm fingers sure of touch
in delicate true work.
I loved you then.”
- Charlotte Gilman

@[Femur]
@[Gansey]
@[Longclaw]

Sorry this took me so long. If you need me to change anything let me know.