[Bless] Our Past in the Present [Peep/Big Bad/Fluke]

[Ruriska]

The call came in the early hours of the morning, arrived like an itch beneath her skin, tugging and beckoning, and when she didn’t answer it straight away, harsh and demanding. Peep set off from home, travelled through the Swamp, sometimes as an Acha and often as a foxbun, whatever suited her at the time, sometimes she wasn’t sure which body she was inhabiting, only that she must keep walking forward.

Dread began to curl in her gut, increasing with every step. It was a deep warning, something that told her over and over again that something was very, very wrong. It was an unwelcome sensation. It made the world a darker place, made her quiver at the slightest shift of shadows, her nose twitching and her ears straining to catch any noise.

Even so, she hadn’t expected it to be him.

Fear dissipated.

It left only a hollow ache in her heart as they stared at each other.

He seemed surprised to see her but had clearly scented her approach, his lips curled back over a snarl, showing off those many teeth. When he realised who it was who had dared approach him in the dusk, he almost seemed uncertain, emotions she couldn’t read flickering in his wide, red eyes.

She’d loved him.

Now she cherished the gift that he had given her.

Their time together had changed her, deeply and immensely.

And a part of her still loved him, even though she knew that he was a beast to his core, a creature of death. He fed the Swamp blood and bones and the MotherFather allowed it because death was life and life was death, you could not punish the bad without punishing the good.

“You,” he growled, nostrils flaring.

“Yes,” she said simply.

His head jerked sideways, almost unwillingly, gaze searching somewhere to his left and then back towards her again. She followed his gaze, saw the pale form half-hidden by bushes. For a moment, she was certain it was a corpse but then saw the steady rise and fall of sleep.

Of course he had found another.

Someone soft and innocent, someone to play pretend with, another one for his games.

And she was pregnant.

Peep knew as she always knew.

This was the one she was here for.

The buck approached her. He was immense, larger than she remembered, his presence engulfing her. Yet she did not shrink back, not as she would have. She was stronger now. The very Swamp beneath her hooves helped her remain strong, unbowed.

Peep stood patiently as he inspected her, reminded himself of her scent and poked his nose here and there.

“I could kill you,” he murmured into her ear but there was no purpose behind it. It had been said merely to be said. If they’d crossed paths before her ascension, Peep had no doubt her life might have been on the line. They had never been meant to meet again, not in his mind.

She wondered what he thought of her - the mother of his children, a doe turned mare.

When she turned away from him and with slow and steady steps approached the sleeping form, he allowed it. She could feel him at her back, following as she stopped over the sleeping doe. “Wake now,” she called to her in a soft singsong.

Wake now, child, let me help you the only way I can.  

[Chrystali]

Everything was heavy.

His body was heavy, when he pressed against her, over her. The food he brought was heavier than what she turned up on her own, weighing just as heavily in her stomach. The days were heavy and acrid; the weight of her own pelt felt heavy and strained against her small frame. She got tired more easily, weighed by the turn of the sun and drape of the moon, and slept more than usual.

She was always aware when he was near, be it his weight against her or the snuffling she'd grown used to.

She was familiar with him, in her small and stubborn refusals to flinch and the way his gaze was so heavy on her. She was growing used to the stench of death that would arrive before he did, the bits that he'd bring as a meal. Even so, her knowledge of what he was - of what he was capable of without her ability to do anything - she refused to sink. Her name was not given to her just to lose herself here, now; if she would not submit to him in whole, she would survive for the children she was now heavy with.

The eggs were so much heavier than the sacs. Everything in her felt stretched too taut and drawn from the life of her. Dreams were a brief reprieve, the memories of lands unstained from the gore of the unfortunate, but they too weighed on her - a question if they'd ever be more than dreams. This one - painted with greenery and sloping hills, a river, a spot of opal she couldn't quite focus on - came with a soft whisper. The voice, soft and calling as it was, felt like it was a coercion, not quite a command but an encouragement. Slowly, she stirred from the mist of her dreams and opened her eyes, lids heavy with sleep, head heavy and weary, turning subtly to face the direction she thought she'd heard the whisper.

Unseeing eyes flit briefly, overwhelmed only by the scent of him. Was it a dream after all?

She was so heavy.  

[Ruriska]

So heavy.

Peep felt the sudden weight of it across her shoulders, as if she was subconsciously trying to take some of the other doe’s burden. She bore it unflinchingly, despite the dark figure looming behind her, ever watchful of his prize.

Her attention was solely on the doe, the dappled flank and the creamy fall of hair. Beautiful. She watched the other slowly stir to wakefulness, saw the flicker of her eyelids, traced the scar and felt her heart sink and the ache in her chest grow like strangling vines.

She sunk - let the weight carry her down.

There on her knees, it was only her and the doe and the young lives slowly forming within her. It wouldn’t be an easy birth. Even now it seemed she could feel every hurt, every phantom twinge in her gut. Sympathy pains.

They were sisters now, bound by the past, by the male that had claimed them both.

When it had been her turn, Peep had allowed it. There had been family and friends she could have called upon, enough to drive him away for good, yet she hadn’t. She’d loved him. She doubted it was the same case here and because of that she could not leave it be. The MotherFather had called her here for a reason.

“Sweet one,” she breathed.

As fragile as she looked, the doe was strong, unyielding.

Peep was already proud of her.

What blessing would ever be enough? “May you and your children be healthy,” she murmured, her nose close to the doe’s ear. “May they walk their own path and know great joy, unsullied by the influences of others." It would have to do. "Rest easy, I am with you.”  

[Chrystali]

With the soft sound of a small body sinking against the pliant earth, Fluke suddenly felt...somewhat unburdened. The weight of it all still clung to her like death to her dalliance, but she felt like her breath was deeper and her mind somewhat unclouded. It was like breaking the surface after a long swim, a momentary hold on a lofted branch to let her catch her wits about her again.

Warm words were whispered against her ear, and the doe's blind eyes closed with something between relief and a dim understanding. Even if it was a fever dream, it was the support she needed, that firm hold to know she wasn't slipping down a slope that would have little purchase and less return. That's what he was, Friend - a mudslide, filled with the bones of those not quick enough to move, and a promise to take so much more.

She didn't love him. She didn't hate him. But the cycle of life was understood, and she...she wasn't afraid. Not like she'd been. Not like she would be, for the long labor to come.

"Thank you," she breathed the words softly as she bowed her head over the mare's knees, breathing in the scent of something warm and full of life for the first time in weeks, soaking in the comfort of her closeness that wasn't the sick heat of his exhaustion or the remains of his kill. If she could hold on to that moment - that one brief, but perfect moment that reminded her of what was beyond this darkness - she could survive this. She could take on more than questioning if the next day would come at all.

A soft exhale escaped her, some of the tension sliding from her withers. Her babies were going to be okay, and she would manage the rest when the time came.