Perhaps it was not thread that bound them the same way. Perhaps it was something different, something with the same opportunities to thrive or fail. Something far more alive, something more magic. The roots that tangled them all connected them to not only the earth they stood on, Mythris itself, and it's strange intricacies - it touched every living being's soul no matter where they found themselves. Fox could lean into the feeling and concept. It meant that far away, wherever they were, he was still connected to his parents and siblings too. Roots followed the course of nature, they grew together or spread apart. It was more flexible and giving. Roots, when well tended, made for a thriving tree, that grew to be part of the forest, that grew to be part of the greater divine.

It was all beautiful, if one had the time to properly consider it.

Not everyone had enough of leisurely time and peace in their lives to just do that though. Foxglove wasn't sure he was at peace but it did feel often like the beauty of the whole cosmic continuity. The divine was special - even if he could not quite explain it. It was a feeling. They just were. Fox swallowed back the crooning rumble just barely - enough that it wasn't so obvious at the tease of her words and the sparkle of her eyes. He could just lean in, just brush against her again. Not so fast that you can't find me. He promised. Thankfully, she pulled back. Fable, still the better of the two of them. Her scent still settled in his nose, thick and heady that burned straight down to his core like lava. The ember in his chest continued to be fed, making it so hard for Fox to focus on the more important matters.

He was fortunate that his mothers were so welcoming, so open - they had explained the love that they had once shared with Arturo, how it had grown naturally and they had fed those roots. He let loose a shaky breath, imagining for a wild moment what it might have felt like to be curled around Fable, head over her side to feel the swell of her stomach and the bloom of life within. There was no possession over Fable as if to think that he was the only one deserving of her warmth. Archon was his friend - but not his competition. How he felt there was a place for all.

Fox let her lead. The withered vines did not mean that anything had spoiled - and in a beautiful way those lost blooms would return to the earth to be absorbed again, to give fresh life, to give new chances. It did not mean it hurt any less. It did not mean that they were any less precious. It did not mean that they were any less loved. It always was so hard to place yourself back on the other side. To hear the words you needed to hear, to have the care you deserved, as a caregiver it became so hard to accept for yourself.

Fable would have to, though. And she slowly sank into the sorrow. Fox shouldn't have been so quick to just accept the touch. Perhaps he should have been more aware, more polite, more appropriate. Still, he held her, nuzzling gently against her once she had tucked herself into him. She needed that - needed something that was so easy to give but so hard at the same time. It took a strange dance of awareness, empathy, and penchant to nurture - things not everyone could just do. Foxglove would give it all no matter the situation for the ones that he cared for.

An arm hooked carefully around hers, giving a little tug before releasing the touch - welcoming her to lean fully into him, to burrow if that was what she needed. He could keep her safe and be in this moment with her, letting her feel freely. Rauiri and Croí. He echoed once she had offered them, admitting that she hadn't had much time for considering many names. His nose gently traced over the slick path of her tears, only pulling back enough that he could meet her eyes. Those are beautiful names, Fable. Thank you for sharing them with me. It felt like an honor almost, like she was handing her babies to him to treasure and hold too.

Would you want to make a space for them? You could visit there, if...if that helps. My Mama made a similar place to give her some solace. It became her favorite place to meditate. Hemlock had faced losses - a previous mate even, and the tragedy of her origins. But having some space that she could just be with her emotions helped considerably. He his loss had been his family in coming to Mythris without them. The place he had sought solace had been in the garden that they had tended to. You should....you should take red raspberry leafs when you can find some...they help with having enough milk and nausea, if you notice any. He suggested.

It would have been wildly inappropriate of him to remind her how fertile she would be - that primitive part of his brain reminded him how easy it might be for her to conceive again. With any luck, she would get her fondest wish - if anyone deserved a happily ever after it was certainly Fable.