She knew the signs by now. No early winter swim sessions this time around. Sakana had left her the herbs she needed to take the edge off in reach, she didn't even bother calling for a healer this time. Far from traumatic, birth came easier to her this time. The first was the spitting image of Gil, and the others came in quick succession. Meticulously cleaning each tiny body and nudging it towards her chest, she had to wonder what all the fuss was on the other occasions?

Three girls, three and one boy. Gods above, save her. This might just be her biggest test yet.

"speech"

The litter Modesty has been carrying comes into the world without much trauma, though Jael can't say the same for hers. The soft noises of pups in the background as her own terror, her own panic, her own pain builds. It's a mixture of sobbing and panic, with some of the pups too large for Jael's small frame to accommodate properly. Hiccuping, labored breathing, snotty ugly tears, screaming... horrors beyond her comprehension for the moment. The pet can hardly process the chaos, but as the pups come into the world-- one, then the next, then the next, it only becomes more clear. All the fears, all the irrational (or perhaps, more rational than she'd admit) worries that the litter she carried wasn't Modesty's, evaporate as she lays eyes on them. Jael's and Modesty's, as impossible as it feels. Overwhelmed, hurting, confused... but alive. The pups are alive. Jael is alive. Beseechingly, she looks to Modesty. Jael, The Pet

table coding by bunni ♥

It seems surreal; to look at the small bundles nestled against Jael's chest and pick out so many of her own features among them. A tightness eases in her chest as she shuffles over, making room for the new mother to join her, if she can bare to stumble this far. Their companions are on hand to help rearrange bodies if either of them requests it, she wants to get a closer look at them, all of them, if only she can muster up the energy. A low whine leaves her chest, eyes searching the dim ground level dwelling for Gilgamesh. Surely, he isn't far away either?

"speech"

In comparison to the others, Lyra would be born much smoother. Being one of the smaller pups she was pushed from the womb faster than those of larger size. Her first moments of consciousness were full of chaos. Suddenly, she was jolted into an unfamiliar cold, and the pup couldn't breathe. Her lungs were bursting, attempting to cry for the warmth she did not know existed until it was gone. Someone's tongue would lick the placenta off her tiny nose. A strong whine would come from the tiny body, clearing any leftover fluid and declaring her arrival. There was a metallic smell that she didn't know. There were many things she didn't know. The scent of milk, the scent of her mother. These were the only familiar things in an alien world.

Being somewhat soothed by her mother's smell, Lyra's cries dwindled. Soft but insistent. As she took her first true breaths, her tiny lungs filled with air for the first time. She felt the tender nudges of others. Pups who were born with a unique blend of wild and domesticated heritage. Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel her mother's comforting presence nearby. The soft, rhythmic thud of her mother’s heartbeat was a lullaby that promised safety and love. Lyra’s pelt was a mix of Jael's. A soft, plump creature crying for comfort. Ripped from the warm shelter of the womb.

As she squirmed and nestled closer to her siblings, she could feel the strength in her tiny limbs, a testament to her wolf lineage. Instinct kicked in, and she began to root for the nearest teat. Lyra's ears, though still folded, twitched at every new sound—the whispers of the wind outside the den, the rustle of leaves, and the distant calls of other animals. The cries of other pups. Fear. Each sound was a promise of challenges yet to come, of a world waiting to be conquered.

For now, Lyra was content to stay close to her mother, feeling the warmth and security of her family. This was all she needed and so the deepest bond she would ever experience was formed. A love for her family she was born with. She was a tiny bundle of potential. Another loud squeal would burst from her lungs, demanding comfort. A nose would nudge her toward a sweet scent. As Lyra began to suckle, a sense of calm washed over as she fell into a resting state.

He's late and he knows it. Deep down, the old Gil would have been there long before he was needed. Would have stuck around for days to help assist the women in any way possible. The new Gilgamesh? Well, he was off patrolling the borders. Day after day, night after night, paws hitting the ground until the skin rubbed raw. Something was wrong, off, not right, but he nor anyone else could put a toe onto it. What was it?

It wasn't until Urtur came toddling up to him did Gilgamesh stop and look down at the wolverine. A slight raise of the brow in question before he's making his way back toward the ground den where Modesty and Jael have planned to give birth. Urtur's one look had been all he needed to know what had happened. The pups had arrived. That much was clear as he approaches the den and is quickly hit with a waft of fresh puppy scent. He couldn't deny the scent of blood and other bodily fluids may have made his stomach churn, but he would ignore it. Though he was different, he still loved Modesty, and Jael too.

Ducking down into the den, he approaches slowly, eyes assessing the nine bundles of pups wrapped tightly by Modesty and Jael respectively. It amazed him each time how drastically different each pup appeared from each other. His gaze would linger a bit longer on the pup that was modeled after himself, but he wouldn't speak on it. Instead, he hunkers down onto the floor beside them, eyes moving from each woman to see if they're alright. Exhausted, of course, but no worse than the previous times. Letting his gaze linger longer now on Jael, he reaches out to nose her forehead. Remembering Modesty's first time, he knew it was the hardest - at least from what Modesty had described.

"Apologies for being late," he rumbles finally, moving to rest his head as close as Modesty would allow her. "Have you named them?" Gilgamesh questions as he typically didn't play a paw in the fate of the heathens squirming before him.

The Raid King, Gilgamesh

table coding by bunni ♥