The night had been long. They had been loud and raucous. They had screamed and cried. They let loose and voiced their fears, hopes and frustrations. They had spent time together as siblings who loved one another should. There had been no judgements; only polite criticism and their own different views on certain situations. There had been a lot of mead. A LOT of mead. The last thing that Iolaire remembered before she lost Sirius was that he was humming a tune. A perfectly good tune, mind you. She was supplying vocals. And Iolaire walked along beside Sirius, singing loudly and very off tune. "And the cat ran up the tree buuuut not as quick as me. 'Cause I am a monkey through and throuuuuuuuuugh!"[/b][/color] The woman then dissolved into peals of laughter, lost her footing and rolled off into the long grass. That was the last that she saw of her dear brother. She could only wish him good fortune in his travels as she tried to decide which way was up. Some time later, the drunken dame found her way out of the long grass and back to the beaten path. Sirius was gone, so maybe she should go home? As she stumbled and wormed her way back towards her den, a low, repetitive sound caught her attention. She followed it out of dull curiosity. "Shickenzzz." The poultry were chattering back and forth with one another, obviously disturbed by the very loud, but glorious singing that they had been witness to. Io came closer to their coop and pressed her face against one of the little openings. "Hey shickenz. Youno why people eatchu? Hey, listen'a me. Hey. Hey cluck clucks." Blackout drunk, Iolaire didn't remember climbing into the coop with the chickens. She didn't remember lecturing them on how they needed to be stronger. She didn't remember telling them that they were such good birds though and she was sorry that they tasted so delicious. Nor did she remember falling asleep in the middle of them, her long, silver tail hanging out the doorway. During the night, the chickens roosted on the woman, glad to have a surprise source of warmth in the cold winter night. By morning, she would be covered in feathers and would have a headache like no other, but hopefully the chickens at least learned a valuable lesson about their own mortality. "Speech"

Mort had been running some errands, trying to get in his father's good books and get a head start on some of the duties he had been given. He had slept in the barracks after spending many hours on stretches and repetitive exercises for fighting. He had decided to head over to the chicken hutch and help the lovely Odette feed and care for them in the morning. After all, Killian was training him, and he had a feeling the way into the mans good graces was getting into those of Odette.

He arrived bright eyed and bushy tailed in the early light of the morning, and for a second thought something terribly had happened. A figure way lying in the hutch, dead as a doornail but for the loud, drunken snores. Covered head to toe in feathers, and smelling like some sort of stale creek.

He peered closer at the sleeping figure, curling his nose back at the unfamiliar smell of mead. Was that.. Was… yes. That was Auntie Io, “Uhh… Auntie…. Io? Are you okay” he asked, entering the hutch to nudge her with one large paw.

The night had been long. They had been loud and raucous. They had screamed and cried. They let loose and voiced their fears, hopes and frustrations. They had spent time together as siblings who loved one another should. There had been no judgements; only polite criticism and their own different views on certain situations. There had been a lot of mead. A LOT of mead. It was the sun that roused her first. The chickens had retreated out into the yard to peck dirt, but Io was still inside. A ray of sun blasted her in the face through the little window and the woman hissed. Too bright. Too bright! Tucking her head under one arm, she fell back asleep. It was some time later that she felt a nudge. The sleeping woman released a low murmur, still intent on clinging to sleep. The nudge pulled her dreams into the waking world, however, and she began to mumble in her sleep. "Turn the....music up. My heart...feel like'n alligator." When the second nudge came, the woman cracked an eye. She groaned and growled, the green and gold riddled with red veins. The sun... it was still too damn bright. Bloody hell was her head pounding. She didn't even realize that Mort was standing next to her at first. Pushing herself to a sitting position, the hungover woman winced, eyes squinting to block out the light. "What? Mort.... What?" She tilted her head a bit, still trying to wrap her head around just what had happened. Feathers stuck to the side of her face that had been mashed against the floor. There were various feathers stuck in her black and silver pelt simply from the chickens roosting on her. She looked at herself a bit and made a hmmph sound. Oh... Oh gods... Stumbling out of the coop, Iolaire barely had time to roll herself over the fence before she got sick all over the grass. The rank smell of fermented, half digested mead steamed into the winter air. "Aaaaagh....." Was her only reply. If her fur could turn colors, she would have looked a little green. "Speech"

He nudged her, and she responded in kind, with words that existed, and we're definitely words. They just didn’t go together in a string like that, at least he was pretty certain that they didn’t. Or was alligator a word? He didn’t think he’d heard that one before. “What's an Alligator, Auntie Aire?” he asked with interes, nudging her gently again. He wasn’t certain if she was awake enough to listen or respond. He wondered if he should call a healer, she was acting real weird. She groaned and groaned, and he bit back a giggle. At some point the pup had grown to tower over her, and besides. It was Io, she was like cotton clouds. Like Indy’s fur, soft and cuddly. “What what?” he echoed back, watching her with a studious sort of curiosity. Like she was some strange specimen he had never seen before. Like he expected her to do weird things, and spout more words he didn’t know. He got out of the way when her stomach started to make weird noises and she rolled. She got over the fence, and started to hack up some sort of poison. He was right, she had been poisoned! Of course, the only healer Mort could think to take her to was lying right before him, hunched over, stinky, covered in feathers, and making weird noises. Mort turned around, grabbing the bucket Odette was using to water her chickens, hooking a claw around the handle, he brought it over to Io. He upturned it over her face, spraying away the icky stuff that had come out of her mouth. He didn’t empty all the bucket, he settled the rest beside her for her to drink from. He wasn’t sure if she was going to retaliate for her early morning bath. Instead of skuttling away, he took a step back and asked. “Are you dying?” "Mortis"

Pile of acrid vomit in front of her, Iolaire definitely wasn't expecting to have water dumped over her. As the cold liquid hit her, the dark woman gave a yip of alarm, then turned to glare at her nephew with bloodshot eyes. She was definitely more awake now, but that hadn't been pleasant. Not in the slightest. What did he think he was doing? Then his voice drifted to her over the thrumming in her headachey ears. Was she dying? Iolaire managed a croaking laugh and tried to shake her head, but stopped. "Not dying, just sick. Don't worry." She needed to get away from the pile of vomit or she was going to puke again. Shakily she got to her paws and wobbled back over to lean against the side of the henhouse. Why wouldn't the world stop spinning? In her mind, she cursed Sirius. Usually she knew when to stop, but he had wanted to keep on going and she had wanted to keep up. Well... a tiny thing like her couldn't keep up with a giant, but gods... had she ever tried! "Water, Mort. Lots of water." With one paw she gestured to the boy. The sun still hurt her eyes and she slid forward, placing her face in the shade of the henhouse. Though she felt like absolute garbage, she had thoroughly enjoyed her drunken night with her brother. She hoped that he fared better than she did, despite all of this being his fault. "Speech"

He frowned at her words, not totally convinced, and then he thought of Deathbelle, who had had puppies very recently. Not realising the insensitivity of his question, he asked. “Are you pregnant?” he thought he vaguely remembered Deathbelle being sick when she was pregnant. Of course, the Empress hadn’t stumbled into a chicken hatch to have her little vomit session. At least Io had had the decency to do it just outside of the fence line. He continued to study her, and mentally asked himself who he should be calling to help her. Maybe he should call his father, but his father could get grumpy easily, and Mort didn’t always know why. No, it was better not to bring his father into this, until he knew why. He was always really touchy about some people. Like his sister. Io called for more water, and he wouldn’t hesitate to answer his Auntie’s demand. Even if she hadn’t told him what alligators were. He grabbed the bucket, and took off in the direction of the stream. He filled it up, and came scampering back, awkwardly holding the bucket handle high in his mouth. He placed it down beside his Auntie. "Mortis"

Mort asked if she was pregnant and the soiled woman snorted, Lips pulling back to expose her teeth in disgust. "No." It seemed as though he needed an explanation or his mind would keep making things up. Maybe explaining it would make him be quiet and stop screaming. Her head just couldn't take that right now. "There are some substances that, if you eat or drink enough of them, they make you feel happy and different. If you eat or drink too much though... it can make you very sick." She finished that sentence with a gesture of one foreleg, indicating herself. The good thing was that he ran off immediately when she asked for water. While he was away, Io simply leaned against the coop and groaned. Why had she done this to herself? If she ever made it back to her cottage, she was going to sleep for the rest of the day. Maybe all day tomorrow too. This bullshit pain in her skull was just too much. It felt like someone was cracking her in the head with a hammer ever few seconds. Back with a bucket of water, Iolaire simply grumbled and took a draw of the water. She swished it around in her mouth and spat it aside. With the taste of vomit cleaned from her tastebuds, she began to drink the water. Her body sorely needed it. She was quite dehydrated. In her mind, she cursed the chickens. Why hadn't they woken her up sooner so she could spare herself this interaction. Io considered sending Mort to check on his father so she could stumble away somewhere dark to sleep it off. "Speech"

“What kind of substances? Why did you eat too much?” he asked. As was the way with Mortis, for every one question you answered, he came back with two, or three, or… well.. Many. “I’ve never seen you do it before, right?” he asked with curiosity. He felt like he would have remembered it if he had encountered Io like this before. He did however give her a second to drink from the water, stepping back, and politely not curling his lip at the interesting smells emanating from all around at the moment. He wondered if some of the chickens had also shat on her in their sleep. He giggled softly at the thought, fidgeting, and waiting for her to finish. When Io was done, he made forward again, kissing whatever clean spot he could find on his Auntie. “If you head to the stream and take a swim, i’ll bring you some meat from the kill stores?” he offered her kindly. Feeling very much the healer/mother and stepping into Io’s shoes for a moment. He loved the feeling, and tried not to beam too brightly, knowing she felt like shit. "Mortis"

Always a bundle of questions, Mort kept going. It felt like he was screaming, so she raised a paw and slowly lowered it again with an accompanying "Shhhh... quietly, please." There were woodpeckers in her skull and they were having a field day. Everything was too loud and the sun was too bright. When the rooster decided to crow, Iolaire shot it a deathly glare and snarled a bit. Obnoxious bastard bird! Iolaire brought her bloodshot gaze back to her nephew and his unending questions. "It was a drink and no, you've never seen me like this before. Nor will you again. I'm keeping your father away from my mead stores from now on." Sirius was cut off. They couldn't have a repeat performance of this at all. Neither of them would be up to par for the entire day and possibly even tomorrow depending on how much sleep they got. Mort kissed her head and she snorted lightly, sparing him a grin. He really was a good kid. She loved all of them, but Mort and Indy gave her the most affection. He suggested that she take a bath in the stream, attesting to just how much she smelled like a chicken at the moment. He also offered to get her some meat from the stores. Iolaire shook her head, but regretted the action as the world spun around her. "No food yet. Just water. You're right though, a bath sounds good." Rising shakily, Iolaire stumbled off towards the stream, but not before taking another drink from the bucket. Holding her breath, Iolaire dropped face first into the chilly water and she stayed there in the shallows, partially submerged until she couldn't hold her breath any longer. Above water once more, the woman shivered against the cold. She'd better make this fast. Eyeing the bank, she moved and plucked some soaproot. Grinding the plant between two rocks, she worked it into a lather with her dexterous digits. It wasn't her homemade soap, but it would do. Starting with her head, she lathered up her filthy coat, working her claws through any tangles and muck that might be clinging to her. Looking to Mort, she asked, "Could you run to my cottage and get me a clean deerskin to dry with? There's a bit stack inside on your left. You'll see." "Speech"

“Dad!??” he said in surprised laughter, was he going to find the Warlord in the same sort of situation? Now that would be a memory to treasure forever. At her glare he ducked down and whispered “Sorry” she seemed to be super sensitive to everything at the moment. Bright lights, noises, life, in general. He was definitely curious about this weird drink, and was baffled why someone as clever as Io would take it, if it did this to her. A part of him also wanted to race back home and peek in on his dad. But then, if he was as grumpy as Io, he probably wouldn’t survive the experience. She turned down his offer for food, so instead he would present her with his shoulder to lean on if she needed it. He waited for her to finish drinking from the bucket, so they could head to the stream. He wasn’t going to leave Io alone until he knew that she was alright. They made it to the water without too much difficulty, and he giggled softly as she simply held her breath and face planted into it. He watched in curiosity as she did something with a plant, and soaped up. “Yes, Auntie” he agreed amiably, and darted off to do her bidding. He made his way to her cottage, and caught the scent of Io and Sirius and whatever that drink was all over the place. He chuckled softly, shaking his head at the strange things adults did. He grabbed one of the coats, tossed it over his back, and returned to the stream. "Mortis"

The water was freezing and by the time Mort returned, Iolaire was sitting on the bank shivering. She was clean once more, however. The soaproot would make her fur a little coarse until she could wash again with her own soap, but it did the job. It would have been too much of a pain in the tail to try and explain to her nephew where she kept her handcrafted soaps. Taking the skin in paw, Iolaire wrapped herself in it first. She would dry in a moment, but for now she wished to get warm. The bath and the water made her feel a little better. What she really needed was some willow bark and lots of sleep. The Armada healer was out of commission today. If anyone came up injured, they could go see Odette. She wondered if Roan had gone looking for her last night. Probably not. Of course he must have seen Io and Sirius in their drunken state of revelry and had just assumed that they would be fine together. Now that she'd regained a bit of body heat, the little dame began to rub her wet fur vigorously with the dry skin. It absorbed the water some, but she would need to build a fire to wick away the rest. "Let's go burn things," she said to her nephew and started back towards the main pack area with the fur still draped around her. Mort seemed different lately. He was like a changed pup. His disposition had shifted from one of confused melancholy to one that was upbeat and chipper. She wasn't complaining at all, the woman simply wondered what the catalyst had been that brought about his newfound confidence. "You're a good lad, Mort. Thank you for helping me today." The coals in the giant burn pit were still smoldering from the night before, so Iolaire simply added some wood and stoked the fire with her breath. Once it was a happy little blaze and she could feel the warmth on her face, Io shucked off the fur and began dragging her claws through her coat, setting it in place as it dried. "Speech"

The boy’s eyes lit up, big, and bright, and delighted. “Oh, can I start the fire Auntie?” he asked, jumping to his feet again. He hadn’t been around the fire much, and he certainly hadn’t lit it himself. Maybe Io would be too grumpy and clumsy to lit it herself, and would agree.

He bounded along beside her, as they moved from the stream and towards the central location of the pack. He paused by the obelisk, awed at how his father had managed to drag the thing into the packlands, and chip the pack laws onto its smooth surface.

Io had already passed him by, and he raced to keep up, coming to a stop besides the firepit. He sniffed the coals, which still smoldered in their protected ring of stone. He sat back patiently, waiting to see if Io would allow him to play with the flames.

Mort asked if he could start the fire, but the flames were already licking upward over the wood that she'd added. "A little late for that, but feel free to throw more wood on there if you'd like." She went back to combing her claws through her fur, letting the heat of the flames dry and warm her. Putting the damp fur on the ground, she lay down upon it, enjoying the warmth. "Don't get too close though. Fire eats fur and feathers more quickly than wood." The boy getting burned was all that she needed. Though her head still ached, she was feeling better. She'd drank quite a bit of water while she was in the stream. That was what her body needed. Her stomach gave a loud growl though. She was hungry but it would be best to take it easy for a while. Laying her head on her paws, she watched Mort carefully. "Speech"