Would you break it, if you're honest?

Her firstborn, @Warwick, he all that a Déorwine could hope and dream. Beautiful, dark browns, not a speck of another within. She could tell her greatly took after her, his colors matching into her own as he sunk into her belly in a whining cry. It was clear the Queen held a favorite, who could deny a perfect son? 

Yet right next to him was her last, @Aldritch, where a Déorwine mothers fears would truly come to life. Perhaps she should be grateful he did not come out as pure white, yet a glorious gray. Memories passed of a man long ago, a guard of sorts, someone she almost thought to propose to for the coming season, for the same purpose her eight were born.. But at least with him she was more flushed at the thought, the inkling of him simply being around brought a comfort that her brother had also provided.

Célnes wouldn't deny she held a soft spot for the coat, but she also knew, that meant something went wrong. Never admitting to the factor, how she'd treat him with the teachings of correcting what could be. Gray was always.. A mystery to the elders, alongside black. It brought a discomfort, not a sin of sorts, but the unknown. Never in records nor' taught, but just a 'stay away' vibe to them.  The best would be, was to treat as if he was white. The same teachings as the other two girls..

Her laugh rung out slightly at the mere' thought she didn't do something wrong.

Three murders..

A secret she'll take to her grave.

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The mixture between the two - born of browns of beloved but the hint of gray her secret mothers delight, yet tainted, by the few white spots she held. Named Vermillion - a word that was another way of red, perhaps it was her mothers hope she would at least bare some resemblance of a phoenix rather then the diehard horrors of a white devil. To take more red then any other, for warm hues coated her pelt as the small child cried noisily for protection.

But her mother didn't reach out, just yet. She could feel the passby of the nose and paws reaching out for the desire of comfort, and only moments later, did finally a soft lick fall upon her face, and a nudge toward a teat. A delightful drink, while trying to overwhelm @Calhoun and claim the newer, already taken spot.

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The young boy was nothing short of the title he was granted at birth. A prince, and a picky one at that. So long as he was fed and warm he was happy, but the disturbances of so many often brought his wails. Today was no different as he drank from his mother, filling his own belly with glee until another tried to shove him away. Well, that simply wouldn't do.

The body that nudged and shoved was unseen to his closed eyes. It was not his sibling, his rival, nor anybody. Just an annoying blob. So he raised a weak limb slapping it at the thing while trying to secure his spot. If the thing wanted his milk spot then it would have to settle for the one below him, taken or not this one was his.

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Yet the two she at the moment looked toward did not stir, settling into sleep. The only ones who did were Vermillion, who was annoying poor Calhoun at the moment. Though he put up the lamest attempt, a small push with his paws that surpassingly, did work, as the other then rolled away in a dramatic cry. It softened her heart, a smile toward them despite some discomforts that came from this litter. It was hard to resist a mothers maternal instincts, especially as she was someone who at times, scorned her own religion.

Célnes will just have to raise them, right.

 

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