maternal instinct [Altaph's First Clutch]

[Kat]

Ros’n paced. Her hands where wrapped tightly around her body, and her head watched each of her trudging feet as she walked back and forth in a line across the nesting sands. She could not believe how nervous and frantic the prospect of Wegmeph’s offspring could make her, but Ros’n always had found children, even simourv hatchlings, stressful and foreign. She tried to avoid interacting with the young as much as possible, because she was always afraid that she would mess them up somehow, by allowing them to be in her presence. Ros’n had managed to distance herself from the hatchlings at Eceph’s clutch, after all, but this clutch was entirely different. Wegmeph was the father of these eggs, these eventual hatchlings, which meant that Ros’n would at least have to interact with them on a basic level. She could tell that her nerves saddened Wegmeph slightly, as he wanted her to be proud of him and to love his children, and he could not fathom why she was so frightend of the act of creation, and Ros’n kept reassuring him that she would love his children more than she had loved anything but him. And that was true. She knew that she would find every one of those damned hatchlings absolutely perfect. They were Wegmeph’s, after all, and thus she would be obligated by the inner depths of her heart and soul to love them as if she herself had produced him. However, that did not mean that she could not be worried about messing up the wondrous chicks with her present and necessary interest. And to increase her anxiety, Ros’n wanted everyone to know how perfect Wegmeph’s offspring were, which meant that if she did ruin the hatchlings, she would fail Wegmeph utterly.

When the Blue had called to her an hour earlier, Ros’n had not quite comprehended the nature of his call. He had sounded so different, still so calm, but his voice lacked the coldness it usually held. He called to her with excitement and warmth and love, which Ros’n rarely detected in her blue. Wegmeph expressed his love to her in other ways, in the protective way he growled at the people who tried to touch her, or the affectionate nips he gave her when she spoke out of place. No, this was a warmth only reserved for his children, and it was foreign to Ros’n who had thought she knew Wegmeph better than she knew even herself. She had been wrong. She had not even expected him to chase the Tawny Altaph when she flew, and now, Wegmeph was the father of the Tawny’s children. It was incredible, how well Ros’n knew Wegmeph, and how much she still had to learn about him. Wegmeph was incredible, as was this act of merging of two bodies into the creation of other beings. New beings formed of half of the male and half of the female. One part brown, the other part blue. One part Wegmeph. Her Wegmeph, who watched Altaph lay her eggs so lovingly. Ros’n could feel his gaze in her very soul, as if the Blue’s golden eyes focused on her in that way and not on Altaph. But they did not, and Ros’n could not bring herself to watch the proceedings, because birth scared her more than anything else in the world. She would rather die than to think about children incubating within her. Watching the Tawny lay her eggs would only bring Ros’n closer to her greatest fear, the fear of the power and the mystery of the womb, and the fear that one day, Ros’n might be a mother herself. And a mother would have to raise a child, and a mother could damage a child irreparably. Ros’n knew that sad fact very well. So, Ros’n paced on the sands away from the Tawny, her back shelled towards Altaph, and thus her great Wegmeph, as the eggs fell from the female simourv’s body.

Ros’n felt Wegmeph shift, finally, after a long, unknown period of time. Ros’n’s footprints were deep in the sand. She had been following the same band of movement for a long time. Maybe minutes or maybe hours. She did not see or hear her blue, because he moved with a silent grace which he did not always possess, but she felt him stir.
Mine, you can turn around now. I want you to see my eggs.
Wegmeph called softly to Ros’n. He understood that she could not watch the birth, even if he did not understand the logic behind her fear. He was unable to comprehend the part of Ros’n which was so female as to be affected on a spiritual level by birth. Still, he could feel her discomfort, and he respected it to an extent. Ros’n, though, would love his children, and if she was slow to warm up to them at first, he would make her love them. He already loved them, each one within the encasing of a perfect egg, and he loved Ros’n, which meant that Ros’n had to love the eggs. He wanted to share his love with the rider, to instill in her an awe for his hatchlings. And she would learn. He knew that she had the capability to be loving, gentle, and devoted, because she was all those things to him and she was more.

Ros’n’s hands were sweaty, clammy. She rubbed them against the skirt she wore, and she turned, pivoting quickly on her heel, a movement she had learned from Sundra, her own mother, the dancer. The eggs were breathtaking. There were only three of them, which, Wegmeph reminded Ros’n, was big for a Tawny clutch, but they were each so beautiful and special. She could almost feel Wegmeph in each of them, but that might have been a feeling she created out of her own vanity and her pride for her Wegmeph. And one of them was quite large, as big as some of the largest of Eceph’s eggs. Wegmeph tilted his head towards that one, the biggest, proudly, clearly denoting that he himself could not believe that he had helped create anything so great; or maybe Ros’n just felt his awe, and the head tilt was only meant to show her the beautiful egg from within the sands. Ros’n’s gaze, though, turned to the smallest of the eggs, which was so unimpressive in color that it made her smile. Wegmeph had come from a plain egg as well, not all too different from the dwarf. He had been bigger, though, not as big as the biggest of Altaph’s clutch, but bigger than the second biggest.
You should like the Giant best, Ros’n.
Wegmeph instructed, but Ros’n shook her head and moved towards her blue beast, careful not to step too close to the eggs. She did not want to disrupt Altaph, and she did not want to walk too closely to the eggs. What if she accidently fell and crushed one? What if they inherited her flaws through mere proximity, a diffusion of insecurity and imperfection through the air? She had to walk quite a distance because she circled the outside of the nesting sands to reach her simourv, but once Ros’n was at Wegmeph’s side, she slammed her body into him and gripped him tightly. Her movement was forceful, physical and powerful; it was fueled by her discomfort, her fear, and her anxiety. She buried her lips into the feathers on Wegmeph’s neck.
”They are beautiful, truly beautiful.”
Ros’n wheezed, as she released Wegmeph to stare at the eggs again. Never in her life, had Ros’n expected to be in this position. She had never thought that Wegmeph would father a clutch, and yet, here she was, gazing wistfully at a fantastic clutch of three. A small, hesitant and nervous smile crept on the woman’s lips, and she reached up to stroke Wegmeph’s neck lovingly. She would love his children, she promised silently, and she had never been more proud of him in her life.

[Kat]

ALTAPH X WEGMEPH

The Pied Giant - The largest egg of this small clutch, the Pied Giant hovers over its clutch mates in a nervous manner. It seems to want to protect the other eggs, but somehow, the egg appears hesitant, as if it does not know how to help the siblings it already loves. The coloration of the egg is not particularly bright or impressive, but the egg manages to overcome that appearance and exudes an innocent pride that can draw the eye. The egg is a pale off-white color, but the shell is broken up by large patches of brown and dark gray. One patch is at the bottom of the shell and the other is on the top. The brown color appears almost red while the gray color fades to a black in some places, so that it has a dynamic and eccentric dappling to it. The egg, despite its drab colors, holds attention and the air around it vibrates with a certain energy to match its apparent sensitivity.

The Crepuscular Core - Only a bit larger than the dwarf egg, the Crepuscular Core sits on the periphery of the sands. The egg is positioned such that the shadows from a small, rock ledge overlay half of its form. The egg itself is a bright fuchsia color that deepens to a midnight purple tint towards the base of the egg. Without the dark purple, the pink would appear garish, but the small stature of the egg and the darker color mutes the egg’s initial vibrancy. Even though the egg seems to want to remain isolated from its siblings, it still leans respectfully towards the Pied Giant, and somehow, the lean looks quite submissive, as if the Crepuscular Core expresses a feeling of immense inferiority to its dappled sibling. Even though the Crepuscular Core could be called the prettiest egg of the clutch of three, it does not immediately draw one’s gaze. It is a secret gem tucked away on the edge of the sandy nest, simple and elegant in design but also small and trite.

The Eager Dwarf - The Eager Dwarf sits right next to the Pied Giant and seems to stretch itself as tall as possible in order to match the greater egg’s large size. It is the simplest egg in design, as it is only a soft, brown color through out its shell, so that the egg greatly resembles a common chicken egg. The dwarf, though, remains unaware of this fact, as it proudly perches next to its larger sibling, unperturbed by the difference in height. The egg conveys a certain pride in itself, a pride which allows it to act with so little respect towards its giant clutch mate. Although the Eager Dwarf is smaller than the Crepuscular Core, it almost appears larger, both because of the small difference in size and because of the simple nature of its coloration, and the egg tilts away from the Crepuscular Core as if it wishes to distance its enthusiastic self from its more brightly colored clutchmate.