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 Posted: Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:52 pm
Apollo watched Bevin, watched him and hated him. Bevin was a jealous beast, angry and violent, and part of Apollo feared that that anger could harm his newborn cubs. Another part of him understood. But for the most part, he despised Bevin. But to Oboe, Bevin was 'Bevie', her friend, her cohort. Someone she had known much longer then she had known him.
Apollo would not hurt Bevin, as long as Bevin was...good.
"Bevin," he said, tone of voice level and chalant, he would not try and argue. He expected nothing less from Bevin. "We both hate each other, both of us care deeply for Oboe," saying that they both loved Oboe would anger Apollo to much to say, "so I suggest we keep her happy. Now, we cannot seem to stand each other...but I am willing," he gritted the words between his teeth before spitting them out like bad meat, "to get along with you. For the sake of Oboe, and the cubs. I want...yes, want, you to meet them. I will not make them hate you, you are Oboe's friend...so..."
He turned, now fully facing the little green feline, "I suppose I will tolerate you. But if you step out of line, I am willing to do what I must to protect my cubs and Oboe." There was glint in Apollo's eyes that promised that he would deal with Bevin if need be, and nothing would stop him when he did. "But for now...let's...call a truce. I suppose. For the cubs and Oboe."
His voice stayed mellow, and he lowered his head, just enough to seem respectful to the serval, and ever quirked a brow and flashed a little grin. "What do you say, buddy?"
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Posted: Sun Nov 30, 2008 10:14 pm
When Bevin had first met Oboe, it was when she was dancing. Even then, she had displayed herself as something free; something unattainable. He knew he would never be able to be with her as he wanted, but didn't that mean the same for everyone else? Apparently he had been wrong in that assumption. But way back then at the start of it all, he had stayed by her. Way back then when all of her "friends" had turned their backs on her and abandoned her, Bevin had vowed never to leave Oboe. So right now, even though she loved Apollo, and even though she had had his cubs, Bevin still remained faithful to her. He would never leave Oboe, and it was a promise he planned to keep for the rest of his days, despite anything he had to go to.
After all, wasn't love about making sacrifices? Wasn't love about being happy for that other person, no matter what?
Bevin sighed and closed his eyes, listening to Apollo's words. There was silence.
When he opened his eyes again, they were lit with an odd fire. But on his face was a placid smile.
"I was going to propose the same thing...buddy." he said smoothly. He raised his chin, eyelids relaxing. "Of course."
Well, it was mostly true. But if there was anything Bevin was good at, it was lying. He did plan to truce with Apollo, but perhaps not completely...Well, for Oboe's sake, he would.
At least for right then.
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Posted: Sun Nov 30, 2008 10:47 pm
Now satisfied that things would be -at least partially- stable between him and Bevin, Apollo seemed to physically relax. His shoulders slumped, his paws lay flat, no longer clenched with claws revealed. His mane seem to flatten, and weariness strained his boyish features. The lion looked like the epitome of fatherhood. Which was ironic, seeing as he had never had a father.
He nodded the Bevin, their pacts and threats weaved and written, signed by each in silent agreement. No more fighting. No more until one of them stepped out of line. He had a feeling they would be watching each others toes from now on, waiting for that careless step.
With a grunt, the purple lion stood, and his silence was both a 'feel free to come inside' and 'stay away, at least for now', sent towards Bevin as he entered the cave. Oboe was still sleeping, and the cubs were snoozing; fat and full from their mother's milk, and Apollo grinned. "Oboe," he mumbled. It wasn't a call to awake, just a wish to whisper her name. It was like magic, and brought vigor to his body.
He nuzzled her cheek, nudged each of the cubs, licking each of them in turn. Purple, pink, purple, white. Each mewled and huffed, but quickly fell asleep after his ministrations. He then sat back and looked at them five of them. All his, all beautiful and healthy. Life could get no better.
Except for that the cubs still needed names.
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Posted: Mon Dec 01, 2008 7:43 am
There were glittering, dead butterflies hanging all around, and the scent of aged gold and jewels. Oboé was in her teacher's quarters, listening and learning. It was comforting and familiar, despite the small feeling of anxiety that accompanied those sessions.
"I see you've had cubs." her old teacher rasped, just in the way she did before she got very angry about something. "You know what happens to cubs who are not selected personally by our Seekers." Oboé tilted her head. How could she have cubs? She was only a juvenile...
"No, Teacher. I've not had cubs." she answered politely, a lazy smile on her small face.
"Be silent." came the stiff command. Oboé frowned. "Who is the father?" her teacher asked. Oboé's eyes found the floor and she stared at it, thinking.
"I don't know my father, Teacher." she replied.
"NOT YOURS," her teacher hissed. Oboé jumped. "Your CUBS'." Oboé's head spun with confusion. She'd just said she didn't have cubs. She was too young. There was no father. How could there be?
A tiny mewling sound caught her ears and Oboé looked down. Beside her were four tiny cubs, reaching out for her with closed eyes and ears, helpless and crying. Oboé's eyes widened, face blank, and she stared. Certainly those weren't her cubs. She was too young, like she kept saying. But if they truly were hers, where was the father? Would they not have a father just like she didn't have a father? No, that wasn't fair. The poor dears...How could she care for them all by herself? ...No, but wait. Having cubs in the troupe was against the rules. They would all be left some place...Perhaps left in the care of another, or just left to die. But they were her cubs. That wasn't fair.
Where was the father?
Oboé's eyes squinted as she woke. Familiar scents filled her nose and she stretched gently, feeling safe again. Her eyes opened at a voice calling her name. Wait, where was she? She was very tired...
Gold eyes met with purple and Oboé felt her lips part in surprise.
Oh, it was Apollo.
Of course. Dreams were such odd things. They made you forget.
Oboé smiled and watched him, content with the feeling of warm cubs snuggled against her belly.
"Yes?" she answered.
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Posted: Tue Dec 02, 2008 8:09 pm
"Oh!"
Apollo grinned and leaned in, nuzzling his mates sleepy face. He hadn't meant for her to really awake, and felt a mixture of happiness and guilt stir in his gut as her eyes, sleepy and calm, turned on him. She was so beautiful, so wise. Everything he wasn't.
Apollo tilted his head, pondering on what kind of names they would give the cubs, and then flopped down, so that their curved bodies now made a warm encasement around the cubs. The little fluffballs seem to notice the change in heat and mewled (was it in appreciation? Had they yet to learn such a feeling as complicated as that?), before sleeping again. For a minute, the young father stared at his cubs, then looked back into the expectant eyes of his mate.
"What will we name them?" the purple lion mused, a question open for answer now, or answer later. "I am rather curious as to what we will decide on. What do you think, Oboe? What should we name them?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2008 5:46 pm
"Hmm..." the leopardess hummed, closing her eyes. Thoughts came slowly to her at first, but then they sped back up to speed (well, back to how fast thoughts normally were for Oboé, anyway). She opened her eyes and glanced down at the cubs, her expression relaxed as she thought.
Well, certainly they'd need names. All things needed names. Even if you didn't name them, you'd still call them something. Everything had a name even without having a name.
"We don't have to name them..." she murmured, a smile sliding onto her face, which broadened at the thought of her mate's reaction to that sentence. But she continued. "Can we let them name themselves?" she asked, though she had probably already decided to go with that despite what Apollo had to say. "And perhaps if they don't want to name themselves," Oboé yawned and stretched. "you can name them." Her smile grew and she closed her eyes, feeling sleepy again. It was so odd to be thinking about names for cubs, because these cubs were her cubs. It was so odd...
"Yes, let's let them name themselves." she said quietly after a moment. She nuzzled her head into Apollo's fur, and before she slipped off into a doze she said one last thing.
"I hope one of them names herself 'Ratel'..."
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Posted: Thu Dec 04, 2008 5:49 pm
Apollo loved the little things about Oboe. The way she thought, the way she breathed, the way she hummed. But...
This...this might be pushing how far he was willing to go for her! Naming the cubs was a big thing! It WAS THEIR NAMES! The things that would label them from them for the rest of their (hopefully) long lives!
But the way she smiled, the way she pressed into his fur, the way her eyes had looked before they closed. The way...ARGH! The way that Oboe was!!
...
He could never say no to those eyes, even if the idea of letting his cubs choose their names stressed him out(WHAT IF THEY DID CHOOSE TO CALL THEMSELVES NAMES LIKE 'RATEL', and hated him later for letting them choose such a name!?).
But she was breathing so calmly, and the cubs looked so peaceful, and curse his heart and his mind, he did love her so.
So...
With a dejected sigh and a slump of the head and shoulders, Apollo resigned. "Okay, Oboe. Let them choose themselves. But if any of them decide to name themselves Ratel, I am going to take parental action."
He wasn't sure of she was fully asleep now, but he knew she knew he would cave in. So there was no real point to wake her and inform her of his acceptance, and instead he nuzzled her, curled up beside her, and drifted off sleepily.
Watching your mate give birth could be so tiresome.
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