I wanna be there when it's set in stone; daemron, birthing

[brigade]

because the very thing you're afraid of, it keeps you clean but unclear
it's the dirt that you're made of and thats nothing to fear

Their parents are important—he knows that, recognizes it, breathes it deep into his wild lungs—but they pale in comparison to the soft, delicate beauty that is his sister. She embeds in his heart, the thorns of her rooted into the very fiber of it and it’s the first thing that he truly, deeply, wholly knows. He doesn’t know the dangers that lurk outside of their door, the potential ways that the world  could cut them to the quick.

All he knows is that something protective rises in him as a result and he wants to hold her close, wants to tuck her head into his neck so that he can shield her from all of it, keep her from ever having to face it.

Instead, the two of them nurse side by side, her thin body bumping into the soft down of his wings and he grins even as the milk fills his belly. He sways and then checks her with his hip, pulling back from his mother only when he feels as though her may burst, his stomach swollen with the milk. His face splits open with a grin and he closes his eyes, ears flopping every so slightly as he gives a contented sigh.

“Mmm,” his voice is rumbly and he nudges his sister before stumbling back to his mother. Curious, he peers up, light grey eyes wide as he studies her face before turning his head and studying his dad. Content he huffs and then nudges his sister once more, slipping to the ground when his limbs become suddenly heavy. He takes a deep breath, thin barrel expanding and then collapsing as his lids close and sleep comes.

Brigade

i will follow the feeling and sing fever to the form