The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool.

Tags for reference but I'd really love a @Hieronymous

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The days since his last encounter with @Reiko had been wrought with a tense uncertainty. Quicksilver had returned home to Vanderfell immediately, too exhausted to carry on and too ashamed to seek the comforting embrace of @Izumi. The crane would've welcomed him to her with arms wide open, he knew, but it wasn't fair to rely on her so heavily after all the stress and heartache he'd caused.

She would find him when she was ready.

Eager to distract himself from the great weight of his anxiety, the druid threw himself into his work. He tended his garden for many hours, ridding it of ailing plants and those claimed by frost, and set up a new patch close by to separate his Winter herbs. Quicksilver did his best to organise the stores, separating those freshly dried to be stocked with older product, but he tired quickly and the scent of lavender often overwhelmed him.

As dawn broke, the silverwhite stepped from the hollow where he kept his cache for a much-needed breather and was greeted by a morning sky littered with crimson clouds. His pale eyes regarded them briefly, curious, though his interest was short-lived. He sank to his haunches with a sigh and set about grooming the ruffled white furs of his chest.


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Fatherhood was quickly approaching and Hieronymous was restless. Sleep didn’t come easy and he often laid awake next to @Ira wondering if there was something more he could do help her. Even in her current state she was as beautiful as ever - glowing even, despite how she may not feel as beautiful right now as he saw her to be.

Even if the comfort of her next to him helped the new High King rest; tossing and turning next to her would surely wake his wife. So as the glowing rays of light kissed the mountains he gently walked off toward the medicine den that Quicksilver tended. Perhaps there was something he could bring back to Ira to make her morning a little more comfortable?

As he approached the familiar sight of Quicksilver brought a smile to his face as the painted king greeted him. “Quicksilver! You’ve been busy. Welcome back.” The pale, young man was away often but not enough to be concerning.

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With careful fangs he preened the longer furs of his ruff, ridding himself of knots and fine twigs that'd manage to work their way among the tresses. The arrival of another interrupted his grooming session, and the silverwhite lifted his muzzle to acknowledge the sound of approaching paws. The sight of Hieronymous brought him to his paws and he greeted the new High King fondly, with a downward sweeping tail. Quicksilver was glad to see him, always glad to accept his company, and he fretted over how his friend might already have noticed how distracted he'd been of late.

“Hiero, hi,” he returned, pastel gaze lowering as the painted leader commented on his recent absences. Since his brief and desperate trip to Reiko's tundra in pursuit of her, Quicksilver had felt rather disconnected from the pack. He'd kept mostly to himself, worked his share of the borders and focused on his stores - there was a strong need to focus on his own wellbeing. “Ah, sorry, I... there's so much to do. You know, with the pups to prepare for.”

Despite his own heartache, the druid anticipated the arrival of the royal litter greatly. As Ira's pregnancy progressed swiftly he could not delay in making sure he had the appropriate herbs in place to ease the Queen's whelping. “Are you excited?”


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He didn't mean to interrupt the young man during his grooming, Hieronymous of all people knew how important it was to keep up with such a task. “I hope I'm not interrupting.” With an awkward smile he slowed his approach, letting his own tail sweep happily in a greeting to the pale man. 

So he knew about the puppies, of course he did. It was no secret by now after all. With the way Ira was looking and must be smelling to the others, or however that worked... Hieronymous had a moment of yearning, wanting more than anything to know what they smelled from her. How different it may be when to him, she smelled no different than the same faint petrichdr like odour. 

“Very much so!” He exclaimed, eyes wide and dreamy. Never did he think he would be in such a position, and with Ira none the less being their mother! It was a dream come true, and someone should come to pinch him to see if he would wake up anytime soon. Then it all faded as reality hit. His smile was almost sad if it didn't still have that underlying glee. “But, I'm also very nervous. I don't know that I'm doing if I'll be honest.”

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“Not at all,” the druid assured when his friend suggested he might be interrupting, “I was just stopping for a breath of fresh air. It is, uh... rather fragrant, inside.”

Quicksilver pointed his pale muzzle toward the hollow on their mountainside where he kept his cache. It was a small cave, well-stocked now that Summer was coming to an end and he'd been in need of distraction. He found many of his herbs to overwhelm the senses even though well dried, even more so in such a snug space.

Hieronymous' feelings on the matter of fast approaching parenthood were understandable, the silverwhite mused. So many things could go wrong that he didn't dare speak of, not wanting to dampen his spirit of further fuel anxiety. Quicksilver, though inexperienced still when it came to practicing medicine, was nervous too - these babes would be the first newborns for him to tend as aspiring doctor. To make things more terrifying, the litter was a royal one!

“Instinct will come to you when they arrive.” Quicksilver pricked a sterling ear, hopeful that he might be able to ease the High King's concerns, “what else worries you?”


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Another thing he couldn't sympathize with, the fragrance of the medicine den being overwhelming for someone like Quicksilver. The thing just smelled of dried leaves if he was honest, some maybe smelling a little nicer than others, but as 'overwhelming' as the druid might be feeling. The new High King simply didn't have anything to add, and so he simply smiled with a simple dip of his head to acknowledge Quicksilver's needs for fresh air.

Instincts of fatherhood. Such a thing sounded strange but perhaps there was some truth behind it. After all, they all had come from some father at some point. There had to be some logic behind that sense. “I sure hope they do.” Because he already loved them despite not having breathed their first breath of air just yet. If he could coddle them now he would. The closest thing Hiero could do now was just show his affections to his wife and wait patiently for the time to come. 
 
Quicksilver asked if there was anything else that worried him, and truth be told - yes. He kept silent as he approached, peeking into the herb filled den to remind himself of why he had come here in the first place. With a sigh he supposed it wouldn't be wrong to share what was on his mind. Turning to face the young man, he would ease his own nerves to let his words speak. “Are you... aware of my affliction, Quicksilver?”

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Hope, sometimes, was all that a wolf had. In Quicksilver's case, he'd been holding onto such since his arrival to this place: for survival, for stability, for love. It was what kept him going through the rough times, especially now that he felt more alone than ever before. Grateful for the constants in his life, however, he plodded along to the best of his ability; there was a lot he had to thank Ira and Hieronymous for.

“Your...” the druid, puzzled by the High King's question, “affliction?” His ears splayed backward, confused. He was unaware that Hiero had ever had any health concerns, and he was a little anxious that this one might be especially private to have been kept so quiet.


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Had Hieronymous known of Quicksilver's own personal issues, perhaps he would have lent an ear or two to listen to the druid and see if he could assist in easing his uncertainties. Though the issues that the healer had were not something that Hieronymous was familiar with or would know how to handle very well... he could at least play therapist and listen to bring some comfort.

Naturally, Hieronymous didn't want everyone to know of his ailment, it would not only be dangerous for himself but for the pack as well if others knew of his disabilities. Quicksilver was their medic, however... and it would only be beneficial to trust him and be an extra set of eyes to watch over the High King should something occur.
 
“Mhm.” He'd hum, hoping to remain casual so no panic would arise with the upcoming explanation. “You see... I was born incapable of feeling pleasure or pain. I'm not certain if my lack of sense of smell stems from it as well, but I fear that my children would be infected with the same.”

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Incapable of feeling pleasure or pain? Oh, what he would give for that "affliction" as he thought sorely of lost love.

Quicksilver blinked at Hieronymous, his eyes swift to locate the wounds he'd suffered on the day they'd felled the great Tundrian stag in preparation of the Vanderfell wedding feast. Those cuts were long healed and scarred over, but the druid recalled how his friend had managed to throw himself back into the hunt with barely a yelp. He'd been too distracted by all the commotion, by the cloven hooves aimed at his head, and guiltily he thought how the whole experience had slipped his mind.

“Oh,” he swallowed, wondering if Hieronymous mother might've sought a physician when this insensitivity in her son presented itself. “Did... did either of your parents have this?” It would be helpful to know, to perhaps figure out if it was a genetic condition - only then could they decipher the chances of cubs carrying the gene.


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It was weird to talk about himself so openly like this. The High King was such a tightly closed book that talking about himself always came off as strange. At any point, he preferred to make a joke and brush it off, or change the topic swiftly to something else and move on with the new chapter in his life as Vanderfell's new High King, Ira's husband, and soon to be father. There was just no time to dwell on the negative or what once was before all this.

But the thought of his children sharing his affliction... well, that made things a little different. Now who he was, what he was, was affecting others - and of all individuals, his and Ira's children. What would she think to see that his strange disease was spreading to the branches of her family tree?
 
“I don't think so, I believe I was the only one in our family.” It was truly a miracle that his parents figured something was wrong to begin with and had the patience to figure out a way to keep their strange son around. “I still remember how overbearing my mother was in making sure I wouldn't follow my siblings anywhere in fear I'd get hurt; how unfair it was that I couldn't play too. Now to think I would have to do the same to mine.”

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Quicksilver listened quietly, allowing the High King to answer his question thoroughly and at length. The more he knew, he supposed, the better he could help him figure out the chances of his condition presented itself in the royal cubs. It was interesting that Hieronymous was the only babe born to unaffected parents, which made it clear to him that the condition was rare - that perhaps both his mother and father carried the gene, but did not show symptoms themselves.

“If it is genetic, it'll likely be recessive condition. That means,” the druid explained, “that, maybe, your parents had relatives who might've had the same condition. If no one in Ira's family suffered from anything similar, then it's unlikely that your children will present with the same symptoms.” But, like all things: “there is a chance, but it is a very small one.”

He felt great sympathy for his friend, for the very really worry he had that his babes would suffer as he did. It would be a shame to isolate one child above its siblings as Hiero had been treated in youth, but he understood the fear that they might seriously injure themselves. “We are all here for you, and them,” the silverwhite assured with a smile for his mottled companion, and reached to butt his head fondly to the side of his neck, “let's try not to worry until we have to. Enjoy them while they are so little - they won't stay small for long.”


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All of this genetics talk mostly went over Hieronymous’ head. He knew of some very basic things, that when one parent had green eyes, there was a chance that their kid would also have green eyes… and that was as far as his knowledge went. He wasn’t quite certain if he should be embarrassed or not, was this common knowledge? No one really spoke of it if it was. 

But as the Druid said… there was always a small chance that one of his would wind up with his affliction. The painted man wasn’t certain what he had hoped to hear - a lie or the truth? To be told that everything would be fine and they would live perfectly normal lives; then again… wouldn’t that just blind him to the possible problems that may arise if otherwise? His heart sank and on his lips was a solemn smile. Knowing the truth, appreciating it from the druid, yet the truth still stung.
 
Even with that realization, Quicksilver continued. His words brought a few pleasant thumps to Hiero’s pale tipped tail. “Thank you.” At least he, and his family, would not have to tackle this alone. That was right, they had a whole pack now to help raise these little ones' illness or not. “You’re right, we’ll cross that bridge when it comes.”” His smile grows again, more sincere this time as he remembered this was the same conversation he and Ira had about the subject.
 
Now that made the two of them believe the same. That everything would be alright despite Hieronymous’ worries.

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— Total Words: 262

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