[birth] I think we're a little early

Premature birth cos I'm impatient (and have school in the way of roleplaying)

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 Cupid was growing tense, and he knew that the babies were coming soon. Like, soon soon, but he thought he'd still have a day or two left, right..? NOPE. 

 The man quickly rushed to the den he'd built up prior, collapsing as he began to pant. Fuck, fuck, fuck, the man thought, tilting his head up as he released a howl. Hopefully @Hieronymous could come to his rescue. Please, please, please. The man had never done this before, and he didn't known anyone well enough to trust them with delivering his children.

 God, please let them be okay. Venus clenched his teeth. His stomach was squirming with life, and he could feel them fighting their way out. Hopefully that time he crinkled to his knees didn't brain-damage them or anything. @Elenora had helped him before, but...
 Who would help him now?

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 Hiero. The king had come to his aid, thankfully, instead of his wife, who just the thought of scared him. She sounded like someone who would not like him in the slightest, though perhaps he could win her favour.

 Focus, he moved his attention back to the situation at hand, nodding at the kings instructions and breathing slowly. “Steady breaths..” He murmured to himself, “Steady, steady, steady...” They were fighting for freedom, and he wasn't sure he could hold them in any longer.
 Ew, he thought, that sounds so gross.

 Cupid just hoped someone would help him actually deliver these bad boys sooner rather than later... Or at least... Give him some tips? The man wasn't well-versed in this situation.

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@Jerry and @Ludvík if you haven't already, now would be the time to set up the pup profiles!

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Quicksilver rarely ventured beyond Shiroshika borders, not since the birth of his children and not unless he had to. When Hieronymous' call demanded his attention, he was thankfully not alone with the cubs. He watched over them, content to watch them tire one another out in the cool of a Summer's evening lounging with Reiko and trying to motivate himself for the hunt he'd planned whenever their little ones were settled in bed. Life, he mused, was nothing short of wonderful since their arrival.

The druid felt guilty to excuse himself from himself from his beloved, who would ultimately have to wrangle their three back into the den by herself when the time came for them to retire. She was more than capable, he knew, but he couldn't shake the feeling of abandoning her as he turned away and swivelled a silver ear backward to hear Filavandrel's protest.

Not knowing what to expect, Quicksilver gathered only herbs to lessen one's pain. He made his way swiftly through the pass that he'd gotten to know so well in recent months and across Vanderfell borders, where he began to pick his way deeper into ally territory. When at last he located the High King, the silverwhite moved to greet him. “Hiero,” he said, his name muffled by the mouthful of ginger, and paused on detecting the familiar aroma of... uterine fluid? He blinked, and carried on toward his friend to settle the roots at his paws, “who...?”


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Until now, Mythic was surrounded by a dark, comforting warmth with the feeling of other bodies squirming against her. And before she knew it, she was thrust into the great cold, with nothing but her nose to guide her.

For a moment, the small gray form was still. But after taking in her first gulps of air, she squirmed around and let out a demanding, shrill cry. She let the world know that she was here and alive. She was blissfully unaware of the current situation or the weight that would be put on her shoulders many months from now. All she wanted right now was food and her father's warmth.

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Cupid, the High King said, but it was not a name that Quicksilver recognised. He supposed they mustt've joined following his relocation to neighbouring Shiroshika, though it was a surprise to hear that someone so new to Vanderfell ranks had been granted breeding permission. There was not much time for a response to Hiero's question, unfortunately, as the voice from within the birthing den cried out with desperation.

He poked his nose in, wary of a hormonal wolfess' fangs. Quicksilver, not knowing of Cupid's physical differences and inexperienced with those outwith Vanderfell tradition, simply assumed the pregnant wolf within to be female. There was no opportunity to discuss her background: whether this was her first litter, her health concerns, how she'd fared throughout it. “My name is Quicksilver,” he offered briefly as an introduction, “I'm a midwife. We're coming in to help, don't... bite us, okay?” The druid withdrew to seek his friend's mismatched eyed for only a moment, then ducked his head to step within the hollow.

A child had already arrived, and the medic's gaze went to it immediately. He maintained as much distance as he could, for although the new mother was in need of assistance she was likely spurred by pain and fear; Quicksilver didn't want a face-full of teeth, so thought it best to direct. “Bring the baby to your chest, careful,” he instructed gently, “tear the membrane and clean the nose and mouth first. Let them breathe.”

She could do this on her own, he knew, and not only would it be safest for all involved but it would make for better bonding opportunities between parent and cub.


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Ripped from the warmth and comfort he had no thoughts in before, Mars is suddenly thrust into new, uncomfortable air. He squirms, squirms, and squirms some more. Only it does nothing for the poor boy and he's stuck where he belongs now.

Being tucked away into warm again stills him, comfortable.

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The second whelp arrived swiftly following the birth of its sibling, and Quicksilver thought back to the long hours in which Reiko had laboured. She'd begun to contract in the evening and had delivered her last babe by morning the following day. He remembered how helpless he'd been, watching her grit her teeth and strain, pushing through the pain with little more than the assistance of his comfort and encouraging words. He was so immensely proud of her for never once giving up despite the toil on her physically and emotionally.

Cupid fared better, and after repeating the process with the second child she nudged her babe closer to its sibling. The warmth of a smile appeared on his face as he swept his powder blue eyes over each of them: one made of brown and ashen shades and another of softer platinum. The latter reminded him of his own lastborn, who'd looked very similar in those first few days of his young life.

Another contraction racked the mother's frame and Quicksilver shifted his gaze to study Cupid. “I know you are tired,” he sympathised, his words gentle, “but you must listen to your body.” He inhaled deep, and exhaled through his fangs, “breathe through the pain. Deep through your nose.”

Soon she would welcome a third child to her flank, and it seemed it wasn't willing to wait. “Push through the exhale,” the midwife instructed, arching his neck to try and steal a glance at Cupid's hindquarters to see a crowning infant. “You can do it.”


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Quicksilver noted the labouring she-wolf's frustration and swept his ears back briefly, though did not apologise for his instruction - nor would he take her bark personally. Birthing affected every mother differently. Some took offense to the presence of others, especially strangers, and some trusted very easily. Cupid had requested help and he'd come to deliver without hesitation, so he'd steel himself against any cutting remarks she might wish to spit at him throughout the whelping process. He'd carry the good with the bad, as long as the job was done right.

The third pup came into the world, its pallid furs slick with fluid, and Cupid gathered her to her to be cleaned and nursed. The druid took a step back and observed, content that the initial stress she'd shown had subsided considerably, and that her labour had come to an end. “Congratulations, Cupid,” he said softly, white-tipped tail wagging gently at his hocks as his powder blue eyes swept over each little dorsal. He smiled, and as he turned to excuse himself he exchanged a glance with the High King. “I will bring herbs for postpartum,” he told his friend in a hushed tone, “you know where I'll be if you need me for anything else.”

He dipped his slim muzzle to the High King then gave one last, lingering look over the newborns before he stepped beyond the threshold of the den and in the direction of his own little family.


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