Got a mood that you wish you could sell,

private thread between babies, late at night after birthing.
feel free to just do one post!
@Rohesia @Calhoun @Edith @Vermillion @Maral @Warwick @Melrose @Aldritch

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The night had been casted, the moon high in the sky and light slightly shining through her den. Though the rest may have left, with the royal guard lingering toward the outside- she was left alone. To be within her mewling children as they suckled at her teat, hold closely with them.

Whenever she looked at them, Célnes could feel her eyes flush, her cheeks heat up and throat being stuck. She would never release them though, for no weakness toward someone newly birthed, and as a Queen of Elkshire. But she couldn't deny the dent within her heart, the motion of them being so.. Wicked.

Yet their mewling cries brought a heartache, for the love she shared with her young, and the betrayal from the Déorwine religion.. She couldn't help but curl tightly with them, listening to the sound of their cries.

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It had been sometime since her birth - feeling the cold shiver as the night grew, and the cradling against her mothers stomach. At times, Vermillion could feel her littermates unrest, the mewling and movement between them, and the struggle to claim their prize that was milk. Her face had been kicked in at some point, but freshly born, a dough yet to be baked properly, she could not see who. It only relished into a large whining squeal, a desiring hold from her dearest mother..

Yet the queenly mother hesitated, before a gentle lick came to her head, and Vermillion rested into the pile of her siblings. Another cry came forth, once the new-mom curled tightly between them, and they were all nudged together.

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^^

Squirming and demanding, Aldritch was but an innocent bean for time being. Wanting nothing but the simple affections of the bigger being always hanging around, the one who smelled delicious and had substance to feed him with. His mind was not tainted by the hatred of his family toward a certain kin, all were nothing but empty - a buzz barely heard from unopened ears, and darkness. All they were was a presence... and it was comforting.

Who would have thought that with such humble, simple, and innocent beginnings would come a man like Aldritch. One full of hate and self-righteousness. In time he would grow into his darkened antlers - for now, he was but a child. Mewling, crying for attention and would only get it briefly after his cries hit their pitch. Comforted for the time being, he would rest... still tired from the near death that came from birth... he would eat later.

^^
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With the coming hours, Calhoun would be as peaceful as a newborn could be. He hungered so often and with the piles of bodies around him, he found comfort and yet again discomfort. Only for so long would he take the heat before it grew to be insufferable while squished. Then he would kick and squirm his way until he was on top, not aware or caring to those in his way.

His flailing likely caused the yells of others though he had no concept yet of family or manners, only comfort and annoyance. Should his thrashing or yells grow unbearable a warm rasp tongue would groom him, nestling him elsewhere where he could properly breathe and eat before once again settling down and sleeping away his calories until he hungered once more.

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Replenished after the morn excursions, his stomachs’ elasticity was already far taught, vastly expanded to accommodate the required nutrition from his dams teat. It had only been some hours since he was delivered to the earthy den, and the prince was as satisfied as could be in this moment. There was a softness that he gravitated to often, his Mothers’ own warmth, unable to retain his body temperature in the preliminary stage of his grand life. He could feel smaller bodies swarm beside him too, his siblings undoubtedly, though he had no concept of how many there were, for the dukes eyes and hearing were still ripening.
There was occasionally movement that would disturb him, sometimes being rolled away as the rest of the offspring clambered over him to reach a nipple; this was an ongoing battle, already a healthy rivalry between them all, who would reign as champion, who would be the tortoise in this race. Only Mothers’ eye could gaze upon the victor, the medalist, each time.
He mewled, inaudibly so to himself, clearly distressed for an unfathomable reason, until the heat of a tongue rolled along his nethers. He then quietened and released his full bladder. Relaxing completely and dozing off whilst his dam mothered him, bathing him soothingly.

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 Still she had not cried. As if atoning for sins she was yet to make, Maral's silence stretched like a inexhaustible plague. There was no screaming confession. There was only a void where her voice should be. 

 When a sibling's paw hit her unopened eye, the infant huffed, and rolled towards her mother's hind leg, away from her nourishing belly.

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Hours had passed, and Edith was still asleep. She had been relatively unbothered by whoever squirmed and squealed around her. However, there were a few instances where Edith woke up because of one of her siblings, and she was never happy when she realized what happened. Each time she would huff dramatically and flop onto her other side.

Eventually, hungriness caused Edith to wake up. She couldn't shake the constant, uncomfortable grumble in her stomach. She was able to connect the dots with no thought; Célnes's milk would satiate her hunger. Pushing against @Maral, Edith began to wiggle towards their mother's belly.
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Some cried, some did not. It was only the first day, and surely not the last - though struggles may be, they were still relatively healthy. However a part of her wished some had perished in the wound.. And with such thought came to be, it even startled itself how truly cold-hearted that sounded. Innocent as they were, though prophesized to sin, they had yet to do. Some by the religion believed it was also the parents own sin that represented, a darkness that snared their hearts, and would continue through the generation.

Her entire family had been blessed, though her uncles offspring, were not. Her father was the luckiest of them all, all beautifully coated brown without neither other colors, or even the barbaric red. She found herself and her brother to be the pinnacle of the Déorwine, blessed in very dark browns and eyes of their kind. How her family would mock and scorn her for kids like these - breeded with mixed blood!

Today, was a blessing, and a mourning.

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