Monday, December 26, 2011


(Yea, yea, it's a day late. I know. :P)

"I made you somethin' for Win'erveil."

Rheugan's initial reaction- to correct Shaur's grammar yet again- was halted once her words registered. "You made something for me?" She nodded, beaming as she held out a small object, just a shade smaller than her hand.

Rheugan took it hesitantly, holding it in one hand as he examined it. It was a wooden disk, carved on both sides. On the side he was currently staring at, a remarkable likeness of the cat's head looked back at him. The carving was rough, but the detail in the cat's expression, and the fur etched into the wood, threatened to take his breath away. He looked up at her again. "So this is what you've been hiding from me. I didn't know you carved. This is excellent."

Shaurria beamed even more at his praise. "S'more on th' back. Turn it over," she urged, and he did, then froze when he saw the other side.

Carved into the other side of the disk was a wolf's head. The detail was as fine as the cat's, but while Rheugan knew it was him in his worgen form, there was none of the savageness he would have expected to see. It looked alert, yet calm.... peaceful - like he himself had never felt while under its sway.

He momentarily forgot about Shaurria as he studied it, lost in conflicting emotions, until her fingers gently brushed his cheek. He jumped and looked up at her, startled, and she gave him a shy smile as she showed him the tear she had wiped away. "D'you like it?" she asked, with a trace of uncertainty. "I.. I wasn't too sure on what t' put on it..."

He shook his head, returning to his study of the carving. "It's beautiful. I can't believe you got it looking this accurate when you've only seen the wolf once."

"Got a good mem'ry," she said. "An'da 'n Arvoss both say so, anyway." Still shy, she reached out and took his hand. "So y'like it?"

Rheugan nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "It's perfect. Best present I've ever gotten."

"Liar." She grinned at him mischievously, then joined in when he started chuckling.

* * * * * *

It was ridiculously late. Lark knew she should have gone to bed ages ago, but Pitch didn't spend as much time with his siblings as he really should, and she hated pulling him away from the "party" early. By the time they got back to their little house, the moon was well up, the streets quiet.

Pitch was grinning as they climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Lark knew he had something up his sleeve, but knew better than to ask him about it before he was ready to tell. She didn't have to wait long, anyway, as he gently pushed her toward the bed before going to the dresser and rummaging in a drawer.

By the time he located whatever he was looking for she had settled herself in bed, and he wasted no more time in joining her. The grin on his face was, if anything, even bigger as he showed her the small bottle he had found. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Are you going to tell me what that is, or do I have to guess?" she asked him dryly. He answered by popping the top off the bottle, and she caught a whiff of something herbal as he poured a small amount into his palm. "Massage oil," he announced. "Happy Winter Veil, my love. Would you mind moving the sheet?"

She complied with a grin to match his own, then settled back comfortably as he started gently rubbing the oil onto the growing swell of her belly. "But I didn't get you anything," she said after a few minutes, a touch of drowsiness in her voice. Pitch glanced at her, then stopped rubbing for a moment, his hand resting over their unborn baby. "This is enough," he told her, then leaned over for a kiss before resuming the massage. Silence, broken only by Tuah's sleepy rumble from across the room, descended again for several minutes.

Lark had almost fallen asleep when he stopped suddenly with a grunt of surprise. She opened one eye to look at him, then grinned as he gaped at her. "Was that...?"

"Yes Pitch," she told him. "Guess he got tired of hiding from you... or maybe he's ticklish." She gave a grunt of her own as the baby kicked again, but Pitch's wondering expression more than made up for any discomfort. The massage forgotten, he turned cat and curled up beside her with his head resting on her belly. She finally fell asleep with her fingers buried in his fur, listening to his steady purr.

I kinda want to do a picture of Pitch and Lark now, but that would more than likely be NSFW, soooo... >.>

..... Maybe I'll do it anyway, we'll see. *Ahem* Happy Holidays, and Happy Hunting!

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