#▍ hanzo ( blue sea and waves shed tears. )

[zhartha]

Let me back in the fandom now

[frstbiitten]

@kathexismania 🤝 + 51 :))))

fifty reasons to touch someone. || Open

51. [ dealer’s choice / randomise ]

11…in grief.

40... because the world is ending. 

The red liquid still streams down at the side of her forehead, a small crimson river caused by the open skin where her hair begins and now is drying by the heat in the air. Red, red, it's everywhere she looks, above her head where there is this horrid sky on fire, the dark smoke casting these shadows on the wooden ground, shaking and breaking underneath her feet, chaos invading the scene in the most horrific forms possible. The ship will collapse sooner or later, the Tekunin have been finally defeated but there were sacrifices to reach the bittersweet glory, these metallic bodies were people once, now they will sink into the Sea of Blood along with the ship. A perpetual explosion caused by Sektor's command as a desperate way to kill his rivals has set the place on fire, along with the mainmast onto the deck. Everything happened too fast before her eyes.

Scrapped metal and shattered pieces of wood formed a prison for the cryomancer after the execution of the explosion, her head was hit at the moment, causing her to lose consciousness. It didn't stop her need for living, heard the fire cracking close to her ears, an erratic rhythm calling for her attention. That need for air pushed herself out of the trap of cyberized bodies, crawling from under it and being greeted by the intoxicating air of wires burning, a light blue scar in the middle of this red hell rises to see the disaster and regain the composure. Frost has only questions and more questions in her head, but the knowledge that her time is running out and won't be able to reach for the final battle against the Titan... wait... there is something out of place...

"Kuai?... Sub-Zero?... where are you?"

Nobody answers, waits just mere seconds to start asking again and prays for his voice to reply to her question. Nothing. Again?

"Sub-Zero?"

As she walks between this cemetery of metallic bodies she pushes from her path the pieces of arms, heads or legs with the little energy fueling her being still, bright lights flickering until they meet the final obscurity that greets these poor souls to their awaited destination. Oh, to be dead, wouldn't be a gift right now? Nothing but a dead leaf swaying in the wind and the slightest change in the air cracks you open to becoming simple dust? Swaying violently as Kharon's ship too, side to side to finally dive into the waters of the Sea of Blood. Removes pieces of the boat in desperation, is he here so that's why he's unable to listen to her voice? Frost repeats his name, his alias, asks to the wind now, where are you?

Can see his boots first against the deck, his legs laying normally, no, his torso presents damage, a scattered red piece of metal encrusted at his left side of his chest, the blood staining the blue of his clothes with a dirty dark purple, however, his face...

"Kuai?"

Removing the piece of metal required doing it steadily, with the eyes and perception of a hunter, her pale finger executed the task without shaking even if inside she's already trembling in fear. A lost child, where did your father go? Is he now with the angels? Older adults say that to the children when they leave just to avoid the word 'dead'. Her palm meets his emotionless face that has been sculpted by the years of grief and rebirth, death now uses the final stroke with its darkest tone. Frost has never touched the Grandmaster's face unless it was to perpetuate a hit with her fists when they sparred or trained together. Her hand slightly attempts to move his head, it simply hangs like a puppet without strings between his shoulders. If it weren't for the numbness of her skin when it comes to temperatures, she would sense how cold his flesh is now.

Now both of her hands held his face to coax him to look back at her, Kuai's eyes are merely open, the same kind of glance the dead ones see the world with. Pale lips begin to tremble at the realization of how real the inner fear has become, even if Frost doesn't want to think about the word to describe his current state, swallows heavily to ignore the annoying and useless lump in her throat and the itch at the sides of her sapphire eyes, the white turning red. The world, the universe, what else? Who cares? The thunderous noise of the outside has gone silent, futile, quiet, the fire cracking now has stopped in time from eating little by little any object it finds in its way, the sea, the violence, the gravity, does it matter now that she is alone? The sole survivor or the final girl, the only cryomancer left. Extinct.

Hasn't shed a tear, not yet, not here, that's what the Lin Kuei has in mind, yet her humanity betrays the trained warrior without consolation. Doesn't beg for him to speak or move his fingers, no, nothing, why even? Frost has accepted the truth and knew the risk of dying here too... shit... she has lost. Would it be selfish too to sink with the ship as well? Yes, very, no, is it really?

The energy comes back to her in waves, once they finish this battle, Frost must bury Sub-Zero in the sacred grounds close to the temple, which is a tradition and it must be fulfilled no matter what. The strength of a cryomancer is superior to the one of an average human being, it wasn't a problem to lift the former teacher from the ground to let him lay his arm on her shoulders, his body is heavy as she remembers. Another cracking noise, not from the fire this time but from main mast that collapses into the weakened wood of the deck, the force caused by gravity pulls the piece downwards and splits the ship in two, the real disaster wasn't just the growing gap or the chaos from screams and fire, but losing the body of the former Grandmaster from her grip, seeing it fall by the betrayal of her surprise into the Sea of Blood.

"Frost?! We have to go right now!" It had to be Hanzo and the warm grip of his fingers around her forearm, wake up woman! The war is not over. And he decides to appear now? But, she has no memory about the last time Frost saw Mr. Hasashi before the explosion, was he too near to her or too far away? The scenes will come to her soon. The cryomancer doesn't speak to him, the fingers over her skin confirm the reality of his apparition, a figure of flesh and bone and not a creation of her blurred thoughts. Moves but not under her own influence, believed to be stuck to the ground and if it wasn't for Hanzo, she might have stayed there. Not by brute force but enough with dedication to carry her to one of the remaining boats to escape from the mayhem, Hanzo is as sure of what he has seen before his eyes, his friend dead and being pulled down into the crimson sea, Frost hears him speaking as if he was too far from her to even decode the words out of the blur and the noise.

His voice is getting clearer and clearer, it repeats something she can't recognize yet, her moonlight skin is numb as much as her mind. ................... frost, frost, Frost? FROST!?

Lungs automatically fill entirely with the contaminated oxygen as is she was pulled out from the water, both of his calloused hands press the sides of her head to get her back to the Netherealm, hell, this is horrid! This click in Frost's mind warns her about what just happened in the last minutes. His voice pronounces her name, almost chanting it like a spell to wake her up from a fever dream. Out of instinct, stripped from a distant memory, the cryomancer pushes the Grandmaster with the violent strength reserved in her muscles.

"DON'T TOUCH ME AGAIN!!" The voice is almost guttural, a dangerous tiger warning about her system of defense as ancient as time itself. Composes again, where is she? Floating on a small boat with Hanzo as they return their way back to where Kronika's supposed to be. "I need to retrieve his body quickly, once this finishes, I've to take him to Arctika."

"Frost? There's no time to lose now, Kuai Liang has met his final place to rest in the Sea of Blood, he is gone." This fake calmness in his voice is completely astonishing for Frost in the worst way possibles. What? Leaving him behind? This battle can wait now, as for her eyes are jumping erratically from one tiny spot in the air from another, believed to have seen a ghost before her, the ghost of the Grandmaster perhaps, she could swear she was holding him a few moments ago and slipt from her paper pale fingers like sand. 

"No, no, no, no you don't understand it! I must do it, I can't leave him here, for the universe's sake Hanzo! He would do the same thing for me, and also for you too."

This is simply exasperating, which other turns this living nightmare could take next? The Elder Gods are dead, the world they know no longer exists, the clan, the clan? The Lin Kuei? Doesn’t even exist now and their leader is dead, all because of the selfish desires of others, perhaps they can’t see between good and evil, heaven knows very well how hard is for her too, see the whole specter and not just white and black. The silence between them is the loudest she has ever experienced, as Hanzo rows the boat through the surface of the deep uncertainty of this unknown waters, the idea of jumping into the red liquid becomes more and more like a possibility... too bad, Frost is too quick, and hasn’t given Hanzo enough time to react and stop her from jumping into the waters, does she even know how to swim? How to hold her breath underwater? Now, he’s the only lonely soul in that wooden boat waiting for answers, the death of his friend is recently carving deeply into his chest... waits... and this incredible impatience, rage, and fear become so horrific that he thinks too about jumping into the waters... no, he must wait here or continue if this wait becomes too excessive. The impotence is starting to hit as well... the water doesn’t look disturbed, not a single hint from their bodies.

A hand grips from under the red surface onto the boat, almost turning it upside down, this hand is from a survivor, Frost came back as her lungs are full of air again. Without questioning her almost too childish decision of ignoring his advice, Hanzo pulled not just the young cryomancer, but the man his friend used to be as well. it’s obvious, this timeline has lost much more than expected, they have lost an important piece for them. “The Lin Kuei are no more” Frost murmurs with her sight losing its objective on the horizon, other ships continue with their path, the goal to get the Hourglass is not so far away from them, but... it no longer makes sense for her.

“Knowing Sub-Zero almost as much as you did, he would have put his faith in you to rebuild the Lin Kuei, just like he did before when the times were too obscure, we will have our vengeance, but you must think too in the future of your clan as well. You’re the Grandmaster now.” Of course... how she could forget? His words send her back to reality, the war is not over yet, might even be over one day? Doesn’t respond, no this time, they’ll have enough time to talk in the future.

[overstalking]

Another Wonderful Submission

Born From Dark Water

Based on the film ‘Song of the Sea’ and this ask: http://overstalking.tumblr.com/post/159215981404/genji-hanzo-and-zenyatta-with-a-selkie-so-how

The practice of self imposed solitude was a form of punishing himself just as much as it was for survival. Living the life of an exile and an assassin, he told himself that it was best not to allow any form of weakness like family or loved ones in his life that could only be exploited by his enemies later on. Anything that once resembled a chance of that, he either cut down or cast aside. Besides, a murderer like Hanzo Shimada had no right to hope for such things.

Once he and his brother Genji had reconciled along with fulfilling their duties at Overwatch, Hanzo fell into old habits despite his insistence to his brother that he had forgiven himself and moved on. That didn’t stop Genji from offering a place to stay in either Switzerland or Nepal should he need it; but being the proud man that he is, and not wanting to make his brother worry, Hanzo reassured him that he was fine and declined his offer every time.

During his travels, Hanzo found himself in a small safehouse on the edge of a small, craggy shore off the coast of Ireland. It was a small, drafty, stone cabin located where strong winds and thunderstorms occurred almost every other day, and isolated from the outside world… it was perfect. There, he found the time to live a quiet reclusive life with no burdens or responsibilities weighing him down and often spent his time meditating. Finding food was easy enough- given his skill with a bow and resourceful nature he sustained himself primarily on the abundant salmon from the nearby river, rabbit and deer in the forest, and a small garden for herbs and vegetables he grew just on the edge of the forest behind the house. The few times he would venture into the nearest town, which was miles away, it was to shop for supplies he otherwise couldn’t gather or create on his own. He only really socialized with the older locals who ran the shops, and that was limited to mainly small talk where he started to pick up Irish Gaelic.

Genji would send packages of small comforts from home on his birthday and around the winter holidays- large boxes of tea, a few bottles of saké, some other small treats and a handwritten letter along with a sparrow feather attached to a photo of him and either Zenyatta or Angela. It warmed Hanzo’s heart to know that his brother was doing well and thinking of him.

The rural countryside was rife with myths and tales of fae folk and other creatures from old times. At first, Hanzo chalked it up to superstitions and stories derived from old tradition much like that of gods and yōkai from his own homeland. He remembered a story his father told him once about the Namahage that would visit their castle and punish lazy or naughty children on New Year’s Eve so that he and his brother would behave. Once they grew older and realized that Namahage were just grown men dressed up in costumes, however, the tale lost its’ effect on them.

Still, he stuck around for the tales that the old shopkeepers would share after they would close their shops and go to the pub before heading home.

“You live in that little shack near the sea, is that right?”

“I do, yes.”

“Ah… so, lookin’ for a selkie bride, is it?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t tell me ya haven’t heard the tale of the selkie?!”

“I have not.”

“Oh, fer the love of- Moira! Flaherty! Our Japanese friend here doesn’t know what a selkie is!”

“So? Leave him be, James. An’ don’t go fillin’ his head with some old stories!”

“Bah!” scoffed James, as he brushed his hand at them dismissively. The old man moved closer to Hanzo’s side of the table and leaned in, almost like a schoolchild about to tell a dark secret and whispered to him.

“Alright, here’s what you do, friend- you to the sea an’ shed seven tears into the water. Seven, no more no less. Once you do that, it’ll summon a selkie an’ then, you’ll have to steal her coat.”

“Why?”

“Because, once a selkie has lost their coat, she’ll have to agree to be your bride.”

James put his arm around Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Handsome young lad like you… doesn’t make much sense you don’t have at least someone in your life. Jus’ try it, son. An’ hey, if nothin’ happens, well then I’m just an old fool havin’ the craic!”

“Dad? C’mon it’s time to go.”, James’ daughter, Aoife approached the two at the table to bring her father home. She was a beautiful woman in her mid 30′s, and medium length red hair… She was also happily married with three children. She ran the flower shop and took care of her father after his wife died, and would always greet Hanzo with a courteous smile.

When the two leave out of earshot, Hanzo overhears Moira at the bar sigh while cleaning the bar.

“Poor old James… don’t go weeping in the ocean for a fairy tale, Hanzo; he just likes tellin’ stories. Gives him a reason to get out of the house since his wife’s died, you see. He’s pushin’ 95 this year now, an’ his mind’s goin’ downhill. So don’t mind it.”

It’s true that James was among the oldest residents in town and in declining health, so Hanzo brushed it aside as nothing more than a lonely old man telling a story. Then again, maybe it wasn’t all crazy- Hanzo and his brother both had power over ancient spirit dragons for god’s sake! Maybe this island had some forgotten magic of it’s own, after all.

The next couple days, Hanzo went on with his life and thought nothing about his old friends’ story. Then, he started to notice just how many seals would congregate on the rocks near his house; but he reasoned that it was most likely because of the abundant amount of fish and sunlight in that spot that was ideal for relaxing.

Then he thought more about what James had said- how ‘a handsome young lad like him’ truly has no one to share his life with. Hanzo never paid it any mind until someone brought it up. Genji was always more charming and likeable than him in their youth, so he just accepted that. He expected that he’d have to go along with an arranged marriage like his father, have some children, and live his life as the head of the clan. But life has a way of making other plans, since he had to cut his brother down after their father died, his entire world had fallen apart, and he had to find a way to start life all over again.

One day, after meditating on the beach, he stood up and walked closer to the ocean. The waves had started to lap at his feet and he stopped when he was about knee deep in the water. He thought about everything all at once- his brother, the clan, his parents, the life he left behind. For years he was hellbent on a constant search for redemption. And through it all, what did he have to show for it? For his sacrifice, his time in Overwatch? What will his legacy be?… Will anyone remember him when he’s gone? Would anyone accept and love him after all he’s done? Does he even deserve that?

The tears he didn’t even know he had been holding inside had started to fall.

One,

A sob

Two,

Three

He starts to weep

Four,

Five,

Then, finally… bawling

Six,

Seven

He falls to his knees and cries into his arm, hiding his shame from the rest of the world.

Once he calmed down, he made his way back to the cabin to go change out of his soaked clothes. He looked around and noticed that the seagulls and waves had gone quiet and that’s when saw something moving off to the side on the rocks nearby.

He saw a figure draped in what looked like a long, dark, iridescent, fur coat. He watched her as she shed and laid on top of it while she lounged on the rocks, with a content smile on her face and her naked body basking in the sunlight. She was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

An all powerful sense of longing crashed into him like a tidal wave; he never wanted to get close to someone so much in his life. He doesn’t know what possessed him to walk over to her right then and there, throwing any sense of caution or apprehension to the wind. Once his footsteps hit the sand, she shot up and immediately turned to face him, clutching at the coat covering her body. He froze, and for the longest time they said nothing; just stared at each other, waiting for a response and wondering what the other’s one’s next move might be.

He was close enough now to get a good look at her- her hair was long, her skin was a cool tone, and her eyes were dark, clear, and blue like the ocean. He reached a hand out and slowly approached her. She lowered herself from her rock and started to walk towards him. He stepped back, almost afraid of her at first, then froze again. When she got close enough, she gently placed a hand on his cheek and traced her fingers along his jawline. He noticed that her skin felt cool to the touch and shivered when he felt her fingers travel down the sinews of his neck and along his collarbone. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel the gentle press of her palm over his heartbeat.

The lives of humans had piqued a deep curiosity in her. Each day they would meet at the same spot, and over time, they had begun to learn more about one another. He taught her how to use a bow, while she taught him how to swim and catch salmon with his hands. He told her all about his home and life on the surface. He even cast aside his fear of embarrassment and showed her the fisherman’s dance from his homeland, which amused her greatly.  

The first time Hanzo invited her to his home, she tried saké for the first time. Much to her naivety, she drank too much too fast, and Hanzo soon followed. Before long, inhibitions were thrown aside, their faces glowed, and their bellies were full of laughter and warmth from the alcohol. They were sitting on the sofa by the fire when she climbed on top of him and softly brushed her lips against his, then wrapped her arms over his shoulders to hold him close. The kiss deepened and he held their bodies flush together, his hands taking in every curve, almost worried she might slip away if he let go.

“Stay with me… please.” he whispered into the crook of her neck

Her voice was filled with sorrow,

“I- I can’t.”

His kisses trailed down her collarbone to her sternum,

“You will never want for anything… I can take care of you.”

He paused to look up at her reverently, waiting for a reply,

“Please…”

She had a sad look in her eyes, and then perked up when she thought of an idea.

“A year. I will stay with you for a year. If I’m unhappy, by the time a year has passed, I go back to the sea.”

Hanzo shed tears of joy and wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her into another deep kiss,

“I guess I will have to make you happy, then…”

The legend says that selkies make great wives, but their hearts will always have a powerful longing for the sea. So in order to keep his new wife happy, he purchased the property along with the cottage on the shore where they had found each other. In the morning, he could find her wading in the shallow water looking up at the sky before dawn. This was her time, so he gave her space and stood in the doorway while they both watched the sun come up. During restless nights, she would lay his head down on her lap and sing songs to him while brushing her fingers through his hair as he drifted off to sleep. He fell more in love with her with every passing day.

He bought clothes for her- thick wool sweaters and coats to keep her warm, and light breathable yukatas for warmer days to wear around the house. She loved the intricate patterns of flowers and clouds that were dyed onto the fabric in vibrant colors of all shades; but her most favorite was a dark kimono he gifted her with water lilies that shone bright shades of blue, green, and purple in the black silk when pointed at the sunlight.

The first night they made love was filled with as much nervous but impassioned hesitation as one might expect. Hanzo trailed his warm hands to calm the gooseflesh creeping up on her shoulders and left soft kisses in his wake. She arched her back when his mouth found her breasts and he suckled and rolled his tongue against the small hardened peak and repeated his attention onto the other side. He moved down her body and nestled his head between her legs, holding her hips in place and taking his time. She combed through his air and let out a soft moan when his lips and tongue found the delicate bundle of nerves and brought her closer to the edge all while lavishing her with praises.

He crawled up between her legs and she turned him over so that she was on top of him. She straddled his hips, and teased him briefly by grinding him against her folds then he slowly moved inside. She rolled her hips against him in a slow rhythm, having complete control of the pace. He looked up at her adoringly, then flipped over and started becoming more wild and erratic with his thrusts. She arched up against him and dragged her nails down his back when he hit all the right spots. He held her body close and spread kisses up and down the crook of her neck, whispering soft praises and love into her ear. She cried out when she came and felt a warmth spread as he finished inside her.

Afterwards, they held each other and whispered sweet nothings while he inhaled the ocean’s scent in her hair as she nuzzled into his chest and her fingers traced the lines of his elaborate tattoo. Every night thereafter, he could taste the saltwater on her skin.

He tried burning the coat. Once; on a night after they had been arguing when he was sure that she would find it and run away. He threw it into the fire while she was sleeping, and a minute later he heard a godawful shriek of pain coming from upstairs. She was writhing on the bed and the skin on her arms had started turning a angry and violent red. He put two and two together and rushed back downstairs to pull the coat out and stomp out the fire. He never bothered asking for forgiveness, knowing in his heart he didn’t deserve it, so he expressed his apology through his actions: applying salve to the burns on her skin, dressing her wounds every day, and holding her close every night. From then on, he kept the coat folded neatly in a large lacquered box under the floorboards of the house and never lashed out at her again.

A few weeks later, she had started becoming nauseous at certain smells and vomiting. Hanzo was worried that it was a side effect of her being stuck on land for too long, thinking that she might need to return to the ocean or she’ll die. Turns out, it was morning sickness.

Hanzo was elated at the news, and so was she. They were going to start a family! He brought her into town to shop for baby clothes and furniture, never once leaving her side. James and Aoife were curious about his new wife, having never seen her before in their small tight knit community.

“Where are you from, dear?” Aoife asked innocently

“She’s a selkie, darlin’, I already told ya!”

“Hush, dad!”

James pulls Hanzo to the side while Aoife helped his wife pick out some baby clothes.

“So, it worked, did it?! I knew it! The stories couldn’t’ve all been shite! How’d you do it? How’s life been for her on the surface? She doing alright?”

“James, although we are friends, I would appreciate it if you did not ask such outlandish questions about my new wife. They were only stories, old friend, nothing more.”

Hanzo felt bad for dismissing his old friend, especially since he was right; and James was noticeably hurt by this.

“Alright. Y’know…”

His once jovial expression suddenly grew dark and a grave seriousness was brought out in his tone.

“I’m not mad, boy. My wife Fiona may be gone, but I know a selkie when I see one! Their home is the sea, you know; an’ bless you for living close by, but it’s not the same to them. Once I gave my wife back her coat, she was gone for seven years! But in life, my Fiona was happy and she could come and go to the sea as she chose. It wasn’t until our Aoife was in primary school that she saw her for the first time and decided to stay. You can’t keep her from her home like that without at least giving her a choice! I saw the red marks on her arms… If a selkie’s coat is harmed, they can feel it. Don’t tell me you tried to burn her coat, lad?!”

Hanzo didn’t like being confronted, and he could kill the old man right then and there if they weren’t out in public. The fact that this man knew more than he let on brought out old impulses in Hanzo of wanting to tie up loose ends and how he would do away with a ‘problem’ like this in his old life. But he was a new man now, a good one; and he didn’t want to risk losing the happy life that he was about to have with his wife and child. He only snapped out of his incensed rage when his wife walked over to them.

“Hanzo?”

He almost jolted when she touched his arm.

“Yes? What is it, love?”

“Aoife and I are done shopping. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, beloved; I’m fine.”, he reassured her as he kissed her forehead.

He put his arm around her shoulder and the two started walking to their car. When his wife was out of earshot, he quickly walked over to James while Aoife was talking on the phone to her husband. Hanzo leaned forward then shot a look at James with his eyes full of hatred, and gave him a warning:

“Don’t ever talk to me or my wife again.”

Soon enough, Hanzo and his wife had set up a makeshift nursery in their tiny home, filled with clothes, toys, a changing station, and a canopy crib surrounded by a painted mural of the ocean.

There was a hurricane on the night she went into labor. The contractions had started and she clutched onto her stomach. Because of the weather, it was impossible to bring her to the hospital or call a doctor. While Hanzo ran upstairs to get medicine and the bed ready for an impromptu at-home birth, she slowly staggered out of their home and into the storm.

“I’m sorry”

He ran after her. They got separated when a tree was struck by lightning and fell over, blocking his path. Once he found another way around, he frantically searched the woods and shore until her cries gave way to the sound of the howling wind and roaring thunder. He kept trying to call out to her until his throat was raw and he could no longer make out her footprints in the sand. And in his grief he fell to his knees; the howl he let out was not human.

When the storm cleared the next morning, his exhausted and disheveled body remained in place, too despondent from the night before. His gaze was downcast and empty, staring off into the horizon but focusing on nothing in particular. There was a sound of something lumbering towards him, but he paid it no mind. Then he felt a tug as a bull seal bit down and pulled at him on his pant leg. Once the seal got his attention it started moving its body like an excited dog towards inland, down to where the sea joins with the river. He stood up and decided to follow the creature as it dove back into the water and occasionally lifted its head to turn and make sure he was still following behind.

The seal led him to a grotto a few hundred feet from where he last saw her footprints wash away on the edge of the river. He crept into the small cave and there, laying on her side at the edge of the water, was his wife. Her hair clung to the shape of her form, the dark color giving off the impression of her coat and a small pool of blood gathered at her lower half that trailed down into the water. Her skin was sickly white and pale, and to his relief he saw that she was alive, but barely- her body shivering weakly from the cold.

He rushed over to her side and held her close, kissing her forehead and rocking her back and forth.

“I’m sorry… she needed… the water…”

“Shh shh shh it’s alright, I’m here…”

She turned around to face him and in her arms was their newborn daughter- contentedly nursing at her breast while wrapped up in her own little white fur coat.

[zhartha]

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