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the-silver-chronicles · 7 days ago

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Kinktober Day 22 & 31: "Breeding Kink" & "Aftercare" - For OTP: "Boa Lurking In The Bliss" (Silva Omar x Faith Seed)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Breeding" and "Aftercare", you'll find it also includes ones such as "Praise", "Oral", "Biting" and a little bit of "Dirty Talk".

Hey everyone, here's my second and last contribution to Kinktober for this month. Here's a oneshot devoted to the main couple of the Far Cry section of The Silver Chronicles; Silva and Faith as you've probably guessed. From the mature tag and the title you can probably already tell that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's a few warnings as to what this oneshot contains:

CW: Shameless smut, Minor angst, Cunnilingus, slight vaginal fingering, slight teasing, stroking a dick to erection (I don't think a handjob necessarily fits the context because Faith doesn't let Silva cum), P in V sex, unprotected sex, gentle sex, creampie, Silva's kind of unsubtle breeding kink and both women's obvious praise kinks. Includes a lack of contraceptives here (not the fault of either women, Kamski's flaw was that he thought Silva would be like him, miserable and single (neither words correlate nor share a connotation connection with each other here) and also doesn't take into consideration that majority of people don't think like him) and discussions of (getting) pregnancy. Plus the unspeakable horror of including the vaguest hint of a plot in a smut oneshot.

But also enthusiastic consent!

Okay now for the ONLY two Trigger Warnings: Minor reference to past religious and child abuse. These aren't the center focus of the oneshot and aren't explicit either, but these are something that are at the very least inferred (I hope that's the right word) to during Silva's POV thought process in the beginning, but not during the smut itself. I only make these warnings because it's better to be safe than sorry.

You may also notice Faith is a little different (possibly) personality-wise, and I imagine its because of being influenced by certain characters (like say... Sharky and the Drubmans (mostly Adelaide)) and this is set many months post-game and Collapse, and both she and Silva (plus Azriel) have taken shelter in Silva's prepper bunker, so I imagine at this point a certain level of character growth and change has occurred. I’ve also given a short personal explanation in the tags as well.

Author's Final Edit: I've been working on this nonstop for four weeks, at differing states in mind but refused to leave it unfinished, so apologies in advance if it's not that good or even a little rushed (as you can likely tell it's no longer October) than what I originally planned. Anyway gonna post this now and hope for the best.

I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Anyway, enjoy the fic under the cut:

Title: This Sweet Leisure

Series: The Silver Chronicles (Far Cry 5)

Character/s: Silva Omar (Deputy OC), Faith Seed, Azriel Omar (mentioned OC), Irene Neon (past referenced OC), Persephone Neon (past referenced OC), Elsa Omar (past referenced OC), Kamski Neon (past referenced OC), Tracey Lader (referenced) and Father Adam Omar (Barely referenced OC and thank the Gods, he's super dead).

Words: 7,734

Quiet moments had never been something Silva thought she could afford to enjoy.

She was familiar with various forms of quiet though. Many of which denied her comfort, including peace, or even leisure.

She had experienced a cold kind of quiet throughout her youth. It was tense and foreboding, a wordless warning hanging over their heads like the ill-omen of a guillotine. The only sounds allowed were the roaring winds of a wrathful blizzard outside and the slight clinking of plates and utensils shared between two quivering hermanas.

She had spent many nights as a child in a quiet that was always too quiet. That was the worst kind of quiet for Silva. Dread left her restless, sleep evaded her like the answers she constantly prayed for, haunted by anticipation as she listened for the recognizable signs of Father's approaching footsteps outside her bedroom door...

But the most familiar quiet she's known would be that of loss and mourning. The moments where silence would replace where there should be joyous laughter, or whispered promises, or the normalcy of conversation.

Where she expected a small form to run around the house once she exited her room, her little one's delighted giggles filling the room as her ginger bangs bounced from her enthused race... she found nothing and the heaviness would weigh down on her heart once more.

She would spend periods lamenting on each and every loss, whether it be family, friends, her amor or her beloved hija.

When trapped in this quiet, her mind would betray her... always following the same maze in the labyrinth of her thoughts, with each memory visited and revisited while she punished herself for the grave inescapable sin of not being strong enough, fast enough, doing enough.

Simply put, the quiet moments remind her of how no matter what, she'll never be enough to keep those she cared for. She found no escape through sleep either; her imagination was often the most cruel.

Punished by constant night terrors, which only grew more frequent from there.

Perhaps that is why she enjoyed the action, those fast-paced minutes that squandered on hours. The wars, the fighting, the very act of survival, the violence she despised, justifying her use of it as necessary and right.

The very same violence that took pieces of her until she was nearly hollow from the high. But at least she couldn't feel anything but the emptiness afterwards... distracted from the grief.

What a twist of fate that, at the end of the very collapse of society, all she could have would be quiet moments. For approximately seven years, she would have to live in the very bunker she had dismissed as a paranoid and needless precaution, even for the likes of Silva herself.

In spite of this, she had kept it well-maintained. At least to honor one of Elsa's lasting gifts to her.

And even though Elsa and Persephone were long gone from her life, Silva would be forever grateful of it since it had saved the last two of her most precious remaining loved ones; Faith and Azriel.

It was a rough few months at first, for herself especially, but they made it work. A routine had been set up, tasks given for each of them, and both Faith and Azriel seemed to have put aside their animosity, for the sake of Silva at least.

Silva, though prohibited from putting too much strain on her muscles, had recovered enough to do the laborious tasks that the other two were unable to do, as well as keep track of their inventory, rationing the power and water they were using, keeping track of the days by making calendars (at least enough so they have a fraction of an idea of when they should leave), keeping the only functional clock left out of Azriel's reach, general cooking and proceeding with Azriel's education (and ensuring her pequeño inventora utilizes the parts they don't need for her machinations).

Usually these tasks were completed with the assistance of both Faith and Azriel.

Faith utilized the knowledge she retained from the Eden's Gate to correctly double-check and correspond with the information Silva gave, as well as support a garden from within the bunker that gave them all fresh fruit and vegetables besides the preservatives, aided Silva in Azriel's education with subjects Silva had less expertise in and was the only person in the bunker with any specialization in medicine, besides Silva's apparently redundant strategy of "ignore the problem until it starts affecting you personally" or "only treat problem when close to the nearest convenient bandage, stitches or medic".

(Silva could admit Faith had a point about her reckless behavior).

Azriel's days were mostly spent assisting Silva, or Faith when the girl chose to stop detesting the other woman. She attended her "classes", whether it be academical or practical, so she'd be as prepared as she could be for whatever was outside the bunker doors.

Azriel's hobby in engineering proved to be handy, with Silva and Faith both stumped on the workings of such a subject despite their reliance on the bunker's generator and water filter.

They'd have their meals together, and would often spend time in the same living space once their tasks were done. When it came to nightly routines, Silva would bathe Azriel herself, and would share her own shower with Faith as to not waste water.

Those moments were strictly kept tame, given Azriel's close proximity from the bedroom and the necessity of the water. However, Silva didn't mind, as she and Faith got to be closer, with hands touching the places neither wanted others to see. Their scars were only for them to admire, neither holding shame nor judgement as they took care of each other.

After cleaning off, Silva would put Azriel to bed in one of the spare bedrooms she had claimed for herself as Faith shut off any non-essential power for the night, before both she and Silva retired to their shared designated master bedroom.

That was where the quiet became more prominent.

It wasn't so bad; sometimes one or both of them would be able to drift off. Other times, sleep would evade them, and they just enjoyed each others company, sharing stories and jokes, their voices barely above a whisper. Often they'd talk about the plans for the next day, perhaps wonder about the future... or even confess their own fears, quelling doubts. A peaceful quiet.

There were few nights when these fears took form as nightmares, interrupting their rests. Such nights were spent comforting the other in an understanding silence, few words exchanged while they found warmth in each other's arms. A comforting quiet.

But those night terrors were becoming far and few as the months passed, and Silva found herself cherishing the quiet as much as she did the time spent with her little family.

Though months passed, there was a slight change from the routine, one night where Silva rediscovered a quiet she hadn't experienced in a long while, and would revisit the following weeks.

Although sexual intimacy wasn't a first for either Silva or Faith, after the Collapse, they prioritized the ensured function of the bunker, recovering from their own physical and mental wounds and Azriel's well-being over their passion. It was the practical thing to do in that situation.

However, so much time had passed since the Collapse had occurred, and though the intimacy they did share was cherished and fulfilling, there was a familiar desire that burned patiently; the want to be connected, the need to be closer, to make the other sing with pleasure, and to share their love and affection through one of the few ways they could.

After Silva tucked Azriel in for the night, she had returned to the master bedroom. Shutting the door behind her, she turned to the sight of Faith awaiting her by the foot of their bed.

Silva shared a soft smile with her amor, making her way over to Faith to give a nightly embrace and kiss before bed.

Faith had stopped Silva with a hand on her chest, green eyes looking deeply into grey as the former herald tried to put her desires into words.

"I want you," she said softly, a noticeable shade of light pink across her face with eyes full of a need that stole Silva's breath away, "Tonight. I want you, and I want to make you feel good."

Silva felt a burst of exhilaration invade her body, her nerves lightened up with renewed enthusiasm. The feeling only increased when Faith delicately held one of Silva's hands and brought it to her soft lips.

The kisses she pressed down onto the faded scarred tissue sent tingling signals throughout Silva's body, a pleased sigh escaping her lips as her cheeks darkened into a blush. Faith gauged Silva's reaction, her gaze anticipating her answer and yet pleading all the same, lips brushing against her sensitive hand.

Silva responded with a loving smile, using her spare hand to cup Faith's face, fingers caressing the skin like light kisses as she brought her own face closer.

"Si," Silva had acceded, connecting their lips, feeling the thrum of Faith's enthused hum. When breaking off the kiss, the former deputy stated, "Under one condition."

Faith visibly wet her lips, tilting her head into Silva's palm as she asked, barely above a whisper, "And what would that be?"

Silva smirked, and Faith waited with bated breath on Silva's response (but if she hadn't been so focused on Silva's answer, she'd notice beloved's grey eyes shined with a flicker of silver), bringing her chapped lips to ghost along Faith's ear, and purred, "I'll make you feel bliss first."

Faith broke into a grin, and wrapped her arms around her lover's neck as both of their desires heightened, lips caught in a dance before Silva took the lead.

While their tongues communed and tasted one another, Silva's hands wandered, brushing over Faith's dress and squeezing at certain areas to bring out those small noises she never gets to hear in any other moment.

She settled both her wandering hands at Faith's hip and culo respectively, giving a squeeze on both that elicited a surprised yelp from her amor, though a giggle soon followed after.

Silva retracted from the kiss as her hands reached the hem of Faith's dress, "Let's get this dress off, mi querida."

Faith only nodded as her hands joined Silva's to slip the dress off from over her head rather smoothly, freeing her perky breasts for only Silva's eyes to see. She pressed her hands onto the skin, how good and warm it felt under her touch. Her thumb grazed over a scar just under Faith's rib cage.

Her attention was deterred however by her amor's impatient fingers unbuttoning her shirt.

Silva followed suit, unbuttoning the rest of her dress shirt and shrugging it off. She reached for the strap of her bra behind her, but Faith ceased her struggle when she pressed her hands onto Silva's clothed breasts.

"Arms up, darling," Faith directed, and Silva saw the glimpse of the herald whose reputation commanded fear and respect from her foes. It sent an exhilarating shiver down the former deputy's body, feeling a twitch in her lower body as she followed her amor's orders.

Faith pulled the undergarment over her lover's head, tossing it away. Silva didn't bother to chide about the messiness, figuring it to be a issue she'll deal with tomorrow. In the mean time, she was too preoccupied with giving Faith's greedy hands access to feeling her swell chest up. She let Faith grope at her breasts, hands wandering all over her exposed upper half. Even in the darkness, Faith accurately pinpointed every faded scar there was on this portion of the Omar woman's body.

From her healed cuts and slashes, to the closed scarring from past bullet wounds, to her shoulders; the left harbored old burns, while the right was less clearer, though the texture of the skin was notably a shade lighter, if only slightly.

Silva hummed from the touches she received, massaging Faith's breasts in return. Faith gaped in pleasure, and Silva jumped at the opportunity to reconnect their lips, tongue inserted back in, this time to dominate.

Faith moaned into Silva's mouth, and the reverberation spurred Silva on. Her hands moved to behind Faith, she pulled the other woman's body against hers, their chests colliding. Faith's hands gripped at Silva's back, pushing herself against her lover to chase after the pleasure of grinding their breasts together.

Silva slowly lead Faith backwards to the bed, letting the foot of the bed buckle Faith's legs into sitting down.

Without hesitation, Faith spread her bare legs to give Silva a peek at the lacy white lingerie underwear, embroidered with a familiar pattern, that she had adorned for this occasion. Silva got the impression that her amor had been planning this for some time.

Silva wouldn't disappoint.

Though that pattern did look familiar-

Flowers. Of course, Silva noted in mild amusement.

Faith closed her legs together and dragged her underwear down, shimmying the flower-patterned lingerie down to her ankles, kicking them off to the floor. She opened her legs once more, displaying her nude, bare self for Silva's eyes to feast upon. The sight made Silva's crotch felt uncomfortably restrictive, but she restrained herself from taking her pants off and making love to Faith there and then.

Silva wanted to draw this out; she wanted Faith to feel the greatest heights of this high until she was fully satiated, as well as for herself too.

Caressing her amor's face, Silva's eyes lingered down to Faith's wet folds awaiting her, the light brown bundle of curling hairs layered at the top, and asked, "May I?"

Faith gave an eager and affirming nod, and Silva descended down to her knees until she was face to face with the younger woman's lower lips. Putting her amor's legs over her shoulders, Silva circled two fingers around her labia to stimulate more wetness and gather it onto her fingers, while her other hand's thumb gently brushed against her clit.

She heard Faith's breath hitch above, which made Silva temporarily halt, her eyes meeting green to wordlessly check on her pareja. Faith met her lover's gaze and returned an assuring nod. Silva took a breath and continued to tease her amor's slick pussy and clit, feeling a tug of pride within herself when she heard a soft airy sigh come from above.

Satisfied with the slickness, she inserted one finger inside, earning her a gasp and small moan from Faith. She massaged her index inside the warm insides before inserting a second finger to join the first, curling and gently twisting both as she proceeded to press a bit firmly on Faith's clit with her thumb.

Spurred on by the sounds of Faith's heavier breathing and soft moans, Silva gave a trail of kisses along both of her thighs, perhaps lightly sucking at the flesh to leave a mark or two where no one but both of them would see.

She carefully twisted her two slick-covered closed fingers to face her and opened them up in a V-shape, spreading her amor's vagina.

Silva leaned closer, breathing in her scent. The pungent tangy musk tinted with a hint of earthy sweetness to it. A floral scent really; not like the acrid sweetness of the Bliss though. That had long since been washed away.

Without wasting another moment, she pressed her tongue flat against Faith's vulva, licking it in a glide upwards until she reaches her clit.

Faith tasted like honey, with a hint of sourness that reminded Silva of yogurt. It was something surprising to discover; how different the taste was. She'd expected a metallic taste and bitterness not unlike coffee when she first went down on Faith, as she had remembered Irene's being, and the few women she had brief relations with holding a similar taste, but had been pleasantly unprepared for the flavor.

She continued to lap up the slickness, proceeding to explore with wide licks that swished around the folds of her amor's vulva, enjoying the sweet little noises she drew out and the feeling of Faith's legs shaking over her shoulders.

Silva hadn't expected Faith to cross her legs to pull her mouth closer, but the Omar woman held no complaints. She focused on flexing her tongue deeper inside, licking every nook and cranny.

Silva felt Faith's hand furl into her dark hair to keep the former deputy where she was, grinding herself against her lover's tongue. Silva hummed her appreciation into her amor's pussy, the vibrating sensation provoking a whimper out of Faith.

Feeling her lover's tongue retracting, Faith almost expressed her dissatisfaction with the lack of contact until Silva's lips enveloped around her swelling clit, lightly sucking as her tongue gently circled around it.

Faith choked out a cry as she felt Silva's two fingers re-enter to massage at her sensitive flesh. Lips parted, her moans didn't escape quietly, though it didn't discourage Silva from her relentless efforts to bring about Faith's high.

Silva heard Faith murmur out words incoherently yet consistently (though that may be due to the thighs squeezed around her head canceling out most noises), though was unable to inquire about it as she felt Faith's legs tense around her.

She had enough time to glance her eyes up to see Faith slightly arch her back before she felt the inner walls of her vagina constrict and spasm.

Silva had half-a-mind to have her mouth open when fluid squirted at her face. She lapped up the sweet sticky fluids as Faith rode her high out.

Leaving soft rewarding kisses around her amor's sensitive flesh and thighs, Silva began crawling up to trail her kisses along Faith's waist and stomach. She peppered her breasts, collarbone and neck with special attention, sucking on the skin to leave little marks.

She kissed along her jaw, face and settled on her lips. Face to face, Silva admired the flushed yet blissful expression that resided on her amor.

Breathing returning to a regular intake, Faith opened her green eyes to gaze into Silva's adoring ones.

"You look so beautiful right now amor," Silva complimented, lightly tucking a loose hair behind Faith's ear.

The Seed woman licked her lips, the smile on her face joined by a light blush from the praise. And though Silva meant what she said, she still had the need to confirm.

"Was that good for you, mi querida?" Silva asked softly, searching for any hint of potential discomfort from the young woman below her. Faith blinked at Silva, maybe touched by the concern, maybe in bafflement at the question. Though she proceeded to bring her head up to rest against Silva's own.

"It was wonderful. You ate me out so well my sweetheart," Faith assured with a pleased sigh. She proceeded to bring her lips to the shell of Silva's ear and whisper, "Now why don't you take those pants off? I can't be the only one naked here."

Silva gave an affirmative nod and obliged to Faith's request. Scooting to the side of bed, she pulled down her loose night pants, kicking them off at her ankles. She went to remove her boxers next, but Faith slipped up behind with wandering and electrifying hands that danced across her front.

Faith peppered light kisses along her neck, and softer ones to her old burn scars, which Silva appreciated. One stray hand palmed over the bulge throbbing against her boxers, massaging the member, earning a shameless moan from Silva.

"You're so good to me, Silva. Always accommodating. Putting my needs before yours," Faith revered warmly, massaging the stretching bulge that began to tent up at her boxers, eliciting a low groan from Silva, while Faith stated, "You're so full of love. And I'm happy to be someone you share it with. Which is why I want to make tonight special for you. To give my own love back to you, in the most intimate act together."

Silva bit at her bottom lip as she felt herself get harder at Faith's words, the kind and adoring words flustering the woman. She felt Faith reach into her boxers to pull out her erect cock. Freed from its confines, Silva didn't try to suppress the moan that rose in her throat when her amor curled one hand at the base and began to pump.

Precum leaked from the tip, and Faith brushed a thumb over it, spreading the slickness around the head. She reached down to gently massage at her scrotum to further tease her lover, receiving a choked yelp that morphed pleased groan. Satisfied with her work, Faith tugged at the boxers, with Silva pulling it down the rest of the way.

"Now for what I promised," Faith purred sultry, intertwining her hand with Silva, leading the compliant woman to crawl further onto the queen bed with her.

With both now bare and their hearts beating with a thrill, Faith took initiative, placing a halting hand onto Silva's chest to halt her approach and lightly push her down backwards.

"Can you sit for me?" Faith requested, flashing sweet honest pearls at her, and Silva nodded affirmatively as she followed suit, sitting down with her legs splayed out, her cock proudly pointed up as Silva's eyes traced ever bit of Faith's body.

She swallowed on nothing, wishing she could count the stars to mark a number down of how much she had been so unbelievably lucky to have not only meeting Faith, but get to be with her. And to keep her and Azriel safe, a small relieved voice spoke up, though it didn't last, You never were able to do that with anyone else.

Silva almost frowned at the thought, and briefly closed her eyes. What happened wasn't my fault. I did all I could in those moments, she reminded herself, defending against the guilt, just as Faith coached her.

She opened her eyes when she felt Faith's hands grasp onto her shoulders, her legs at both sides of her hips. Her wet entrance hovering above Silva's leaking head, though Faith paused as she cupped Silva's face into her hands, the next words she spoke sending a spike of pleasure through her veins, "I want you inside me."

Heart fluttering at the proclamation, Silva wanted nothing more than to obey, to be inside her amada and feel how she clenched around her, to murmur little praises into her skin as she just enjoyed having her amor in her arms. However, through the haze of love and lust, she had a realization, "I don't have condoms. I don't think there are any down here."

"Nor birth control," Faith informed her, green eyes gazing down, and Silva wanted to kick herself for not noticing when she did stock checks, "I checked the infirmary; it just wasn't included amongst the stock."

Silva could take a guess why. The infirmary had been an additional room inserted by Kamski himself without her permission. Though she was grateful now for his foresight, she felt an annoyance towards Kamski's paranoia overstocking the infirmary with supplies for illness, injury, surgery and even birth delivery, but was flippant about her chances of finding a new partner that he was he convinced her contraceptives wouldn't be necessary. By Jannah, why did I listen to him?

She brought a hand over one of Faith's own which still had her face cupped, thumb brushing at the knuckles. While Silva certainly wasn't against the idea of unprotected sex, especially if Faith gave her consent, under normal circumstances there would be a world with safety nets to fall back on if they decided to risk it.

However, they were stuck in a bunker, while luckily stocked for more than three people with food, medicine and other resources, it was without the contraceptives to avoid the high-risk results of the act.

She would love nothing more than to make love to Faith, to be inside her, to join her on the brink of their own bliss and just release. However, she knew of Faith's reservations, not to the act itself, but the potential consequences of said act.

Instead, she suggested, "If you really want to do this, I can try the pulling out, which does comes with risk. But we don't have to, we can do something else..."

Silva quieted down when Faith pressed a finger to her lips, shushing wordlessly. Faith smacked her lips together as she gazed at Silva with sincere affection.

"I appreciate that you're thinking of me, but there's no need to fret, my lotus flower," Faith said with a fond smile, running a hand through Silva's long dark hair, her green eyes full of a devotion Silva's doesn't believe she's seen on her before, not even with Joseph, not this intense and self-assured.

"But I made my mind up about this weeks ago," Faith informed her lover, an adoring smile blessing her face, "I want to feel you. And more importantly, I want you to feel good. I know you personally dislike the condoms. Not only that, but I know you'd rather not pull out. And yet you do those... all for me. And I'm flattered. Which is why tonight, I wanted to do this for you. No contraceptives... even if they ideally should have been optional... and no pulling out either. And whatever comes after this... I'm okay with it."

Silva blinked, not expecting this from Faith. Although she wanted nothing more to accept her words at face value, she still had to make sure, "What about what you told me? I thought you didn't want to risk-"

"I know what I had said. It was something I took time to think about too," Faith acknowledged, but her tone changed to something more impassioned, "But... my time spent with you and Azriel has made me reconsider. I know you. I trust you. Of all the people I was lucky to fall for, I'm glad it's with you. Because you won't abandon me. You'll be with me, through it all."

Faith's hands glided down to behind Silva's head and neck, bringing her beloved's face closer to her chest, adjusting Silva so her ear was to the skin.

"You hear that?" Faith asked above, her heartbeat thumping in a swift measured pace, and Silva only nodded, still a little lost until her amor explained, "That's my excitement at the thought of us giving in for tonight. Of us quivering and trembling in ecstasy, on the toe-curling edge until I milk you dry. That's what I want, but most importantly, I know that's what you want to do."

Silva felt herself burning up; from her head being in Faith's bosom? The lewd description she'd never expect Faith to use (Had she rubbed off on her somehow? The Drubmans and Sharky? Or had she always had this side of her? came the discord of thoughts) until this occasion? Or the admission that she not only knew of Silva's concealed desires, but wishes for her to act on them too?? Perhaps it was a combination, but Silva wasn't entirely sure.

Silva lifted her face to look into Faith's unabashed green eyes, finding no hint of doubt in those beautiful orbs.

"I want this. You want this. And we won't be unprepared," Faith assured, nuzzling her head into the nook of Silva's neck, hands residing at her back, "We have an abundance of supplies with everything needed for a full-term pregnancy, and the infirmary is ridiculously prepared with instructions and instruments ready for when the day comes. I know this is selfish... but I want to make something beautiful with you. To carry the culmination of our love within me. No more holding yourself back... take a leap, love. Put yourself first for once."

Silva chewed at her bottom lip as she felt her cock grow stiffer at the idea of succumbing to her base desires, and to join Faith through a union of their raw bodies, rutting into the warmth of Faith's inner walls until she released herself into her amada's womb, until she was sure Faith was pregnant.

Faith got her attention with a small kiss on the lips, green eyes staring straight into Silva's souls as she said her next words with utmost seriousness.

"I know how I sound, saying all these things to you, but here and now, I want you to understand that ultimately... it's your call, my lotus flower. If you don't want to risk it, I'll respect your decision. You're not obligated to do this, not even for me. I can do something else to have you reach your own high if you'd prefer," Faith offered, one hand reaching down to Silva's hard cock, stroking at the shaft, earning a pleased trill, "If you want to proceed, you already know I'm all for it. If you don't, I'll be happy with whatever decision you make. It's up to you."

Silva was grateful that Faith was willing to wait for her consent. She took the opportunity to think about it. She found Faith's points to be valid; they had an infirmary with information and instruments at the ready, the bunker was well-supplied, Silva has the experience to take care of Faith and their not-yet conceived child, she knows Azriel would be thrilled for a sibling and she had Faith's approval. Hell, she wanted to do it.

I want to do it, Silva realized, an anxious energy buzzing within her, I want to have a child with her.

Silva met Faith's gaze once more. Her bright grey eyes scanned Faith's green, and her hands moved up to rest on her amor's waist as she said, "I want to do it."

Faith's eyes blew open, delight filling her face, "Really? You mean it?"

Silva gave Faith a smirk that sent a shiver of exhilaration up the other woman's spine, "Si. Now mi amor, how do you like the sound of me cumming into you tonight?"

Faith's only response was a resounding, "Yes."

With a gentle tap from Silva, Faith proceeded to lower herself until her entrance met Silva's tip, grinding their sex together, the sensation causing Silva to gasp agape while Faith husked out a wanton groan.

Silva couldn't deny her own heart's elation at the feeling of Faith's slickness making contact with her own precum, mixing and leaking down her shaft.

Faith sunk until she enveloped the head of Silva's cock. The former deputy groaned at the sensation of Faith adjusting to her, her walls stretching and clenching around her. Faith masked her own moan as a pleased hum, hand bringing Silva's head to her collarbone.

Silva planted more kisses and small bites to decorate her skin as she delicately maneuvered Faith past her cock's head and down the shaft. Her amada rocked tenderly, rasping out breathy, needy moans as Silva's cock stretched her pussy.

Both women's breath hitched when Faith reached the base of Silva's cock, the latter once again adjusting to the former. For Faith, it felt warmer, and she felt fuller with Silva inside compared to when she wore the condom. Silva could feel her amor's slickness and heat, how she pulsed within her, how wonderful it felt to have Faith's walls clenched around Silva. It felt right.

Both held each other close, until Silva's knees rose up until they were behind Faith's back. She grabbed hold of her amor's legs, gaze bor into her green orbs, a determined look not unlike what Faith saw during the Reaping gracing Silva's features.

"Are you ready?" Silva asked one last time, giving Faith the chance to back out. Faith gave a thrilled, "Yes", her green eyes begging for more. Silva proceeded to ask, "You remember what word to use if things get too much for you?"

Faith nodded once more, recounting, "Tulip."

Silva gave a confirming nod, "That's right. Buena chica. Now stretch out your legs and lay back for me, mi amor."

Faith did as instructed, stretching her legs out and, with Silva's guidance, she locked them around Silva's waist. Faith proceeded to lean back onto the support of Silva's thighs.

Silva hooked one hand under Faith's culo, giving it a teasing squeeze as she leaned forward to bring her other arm around Faith's back. The former herald hooked one hand at the nape of Silva's neck while her other gave herself some support from behind, grasping onto Silva's leg to anchor herself.

She gave Silva an affirming nod to go ahead, and Silva tested the waters with a small thrust with a rock of her hips. Faith gasped out a lewd noise, and with another thrust, she let out a pleased hum at the contact, and as Silva thrust again and again at a steady pace, Faith began to pant out long, wanton moans while Silva breathed out grunts and husked out her own impassioned moans.

Silva continued to thrust into Faith as her amada continued meeting her thrusts with enthusiastic rocks, the wet sound of skin slapping against each other all that filled the room.

"You feel so good," Silva murmured in a drawl, and as she rocked her hips up into Faith's slick velvet walls, she let out a surprising growl, "Mierda, you're coño's perfect for me, Faith. I need to fill you up... I need to get you pregnant."

Faith let out an enthused titter, her gut recoiling with warmth like the hammer of a gun, and she teased, "Yeah? Is that what you're going to do, my lotus flower? Rut into my bare, unprotected pussy raw until you cum? Spill all your seed into my empty womb until I'm all nice and full? That's fucking hot. You're so sexy whenever you speak your mind. Gets me really wet."

Faith gasped as she felt Silva's thrusts quicken in pace, causing her body to rock from the jerky movement. Though Faith was not displeased by the change as her content moans and her sweet gaping features indicated.

Images flashed within Silva's mind while her sharp eyes lingered on Faith; the flat of her stomach swollen with life for Silva to cherish both with the hold of one hand. Her bouncing breasts full of milk, perhaps more swell and more sensitive than before. Silva was also fascinated by what Faith's stretch marks would look like, during and after the pregnancy, the beautiful markings long-lasting evidence of their joyous union. She remembered only briefly being able to admire Irene's post-birth marks a few days after Persephone was born.

Silva could feel herself reaching her end, she knew in the way her breathing grew strained, and her cock became stiffer and hotter. It was a familiar sensation, but here it was special, as nothing was stopping her from filling Faith up fully now.

"Faith, look at me, querida," Silva drew Faith's green eyes to retain direct contact with her grey, "That's good, mi amor. I'm glad to see your beautiful face. This is a moment in our bond I want to last. I'm close. I'm so close now. I'm going to cum inside you. And I'm going to get you pregnant. I want to hear you tell me you want it. I need to hear it."

So close to coming undone, Faith refrained from breaking their shared contact as she husked out, "I want this. I want to feel you cum inside me. I want to be full with your seed. I want to be pregnant with your child. I want all of you, Silva."

Silva felt herself tighten and her resolve to hold on break. With little strength, she wrapped her arms around Faith as her amada tightened her legs around Silva's waist, both pulled their sweaty bodies close to each other. Both clung to one another as the only lifeline, as Silva gave one last rock of her hips and their sexes spasm.

Faith's walls constricted and clamped around her cock in a creamy coat and milk up all that she unloaded inside. Faith wailed out a moan while Silva shouted in ecstasy. She gave a sparse few weaker thrusts, and felt Faith's walls throb followed by her amor cumming once more.

Both refrained from separating, catching their breaths within each other's arms, fingers playing with hair, breasts pressed against each other from each heave of their chests, basking in each other's mind-buzzing afterglow.

The embrace lasted until Silva lightly pressed a kiss on Faith's soft lips before she removed herself out of Faith, her member deflating and spent for the night. She laid Faith down on the blanket of the bed, who was recovering from the intense pleasure she experienced twice. With limbs still interlocked, she laid beside Faith's prone form.

"Thank you," Silva told Faith, the latter humming in question, dreariness weighing on her half-lidded eyes, so Silva elaborated, "For this. For letting me hold you, and kiss you, and taste you, and... make love. You made me feel so good. Tonight was just perfect."

Faith giggled, green eyes gazing into Silva's grey with adoration, "Of course, honey. You did amazingly too. I noticed you had a lot more enthused determination. Not that you hadn't before but... there was a more primal feel. I liked it."

Silva felt her face heat up from Faith's appraisal, feeling her cock twitch. It hadn't gone unnoticed by her amor; Faith bit at her bottom lip as she commented, "And with our new goal, we'll be doing this again for the next few nights, I'd hope."

Silva felt an excitement burn at the thought of doing this again, though it reminded her of some things she should do to help.

"I'll need to go get a new blanket from the linen cupboard since..." Silva trailed off as she looked at the damp spot, "...yeah. But in the meantime, we should have your pelvis raised a little higher to increase the chances of conception."

Silva couldn't recall where she gained that information from; whether it had been something Kamski had somehow brought up in conversation for whatever reason or something she had learned while reading for any information from the old medical textbooks they could scavenge to help Irene during her pregnancy with her firstborn.

Regardless, Silva grasped a pillow and placed it underneath Faith's lower back, to raise her hips slightly above. Satisfied, Silva asked, "While I'm out, is there anything you need? Snacks? Water? A cloth to clean up?"

Faith shook her head, but made a small grunt as she tried to clear her coarse throat, "Water, please."

Silva gave a smile, caressing her amada's face before getting off the bed, "I'll be back in a jiff, mi amor."

Silva peeked out of the room, searching for any signs of the familiar orange-streak across the dark hair of her hija, hoping she was still asleep in her bed and not awoken by the noise, even if their rooms were fairly dense.

Spotting no signs of her fellow night owl, Silva exited the room, and made her way to the linen cupboard for the new blanket, and then dashed to the kitchen to get Faith's water.

With the glass filled and blanket over her shoulder, she made haste back to the master bedroom.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way back to Faith back on the bed. She placed the blanket down by the foot of the bed while taking the chance to admire her nude form. Though she noticed how Faith's hand was placed below her stomach, lost in thought.

Silva got onto the bed with a creak, breaking her amor's attention train of though and bringing her attention back to her.

Offering a smile, Silva didn't immediately inquire, instead tapping the glass of water, which earned her a soft gaze of appreciation.

She helped Faith lean up from the bed, and passed the glass of water to her. Once her amor's throat was satisfied, Silva had Faith temporarily hop off the bed so she could remove the ruined blanket (which she placed by the door for tomorrow) and laid down the newer, softer blanket.

Once the bed was ready, both Silva and Faith crawled back onto the bed, huddling close. Neither put back on their nightwear.

Silva brushed her fingers through Faith's light brown hair with enthusiasm and adoration in her heart. Faith snuggled into the crook of her neck, one finger tracing aimlessly at Silva's back.

"Are you alright, amor?" Silva asked softly, concern rearing its head once more, though she had a fraction of an idea of what Faith would be thinking about.

Faith glanced her green eyes up at her, briefly holding contact before she nodded.

"Just thinking?" Silva pried gently, observing how her face made those little quirks, subtle twitches, halting furrows and the way her lips open partially before closing again.

Faith responded with a small and affirming hum. The vibration's contact against her skin, although short, eased her hammering heart.

"Want to talk about it?" She finally asked, swallowing any remaining nerves as she discerned Faith's expression towards the question. Does she have any regrets? came the question she was worried for the answer of.

Faith hadn't replied immediately, stewing in the silence as she gathered her words, and said, "I'm just... coming to terms with this. Wondering... maybe a little worried. I've made quite the spontaneous decision, no different than what I've done before."

From the top of her head, Silva could only recall three that she could be referring to; leaving home with Tracey, joining Eden's Gate and helping Silva and Azriel in their goals.

"Are you having... regrets?" Silva asked hesitantly, but knew it was important.

She was a little surprised when Faith snorted incredulously at it.

"No... not that at all. It's a choice I'm not backing down from," she answered fully looking up to her, bringing one hand to cup the side of Silva's face with tender affection, slowly nuzzling their foreheads together, "I'm just a little nervous is all. This is a new and rather big step I would never have considered in my life before meeting you and Azriel. But it is something I want to experience, as long as you're with me."

Relief flooded Silva's mind, washing away any lingering presence of the ugly guilt that tried to form.

"Besides, I liked tonight as much as you did. And I loved how you were too," Faith said as she "walked" two fingers all the way up Silva's chest to her lips, seductively brushing both over her lover's bottom lip as she leaned forward with a whisper, "And I'd hope to see more of that side of you last a few rounds in the night to come."

Silva joined her lips with her amor's, an unbridled smile curving up once again. I've been doing that a lot more recently, she noted, in spite of the sorrow she still feels for the loss of the world above.

Though that's not something she'd focus on as of now. She had better priorities she needed to attend to.

Disconnecting their lips, Silva replied, "I'll let you hold me to those words. In the meantime... want to just snuggle until sleep takes us?"

"Yeah," Faith snickered, eyes drooping lower as she cuddled closer into Silva, "I won't refuse such an offer like that."

Silva wrapped her arms further around Faith, as she just cherished this moment of holding onto her amada diente de león.

Faith dozed off first, and though Silva was not far behind her, within the dark of their room, she whispered into Faith's hair, "We're going to be okay. I promise, mi amor."

With nothing else to say until tomorrow, she let out a content sigh as she dragged the soft blanket over their exposed bodies, and sunk into Faith's slumbering embrace. Finally finding a quiet to look forward to.

[A/n] Finally it's over. I can move on to the tag stuff I've missed.

[Skit #1: Faith: "How might Azriel take the news of a possible new sibling?" Silva: "I wouldn't worry about it. She'd probably be more thrilled at finally being taller than someone for once."]

[Skit #2: Kamski: "Alright I've installed a functioning infirmary into your doomsday bunker in the scenario we'd have to bunk together during a disaster." Silva: "...Not thrilled but ok." Kamski: "It's prepared for injuries, illnesses, surgeries and any pregnancies in the unlikely case we have others bunk with us." Silva: "That sounds good and all, but what about contraceptives?" Kamski: "Don't be ridiculous Silva... no one's stupid enough to fuck in a bunker during a disaster and neither of us are getting lucky enought to change our single status any time soon." Silva: "Hurtful but sounds legit." Years later... Silva: "Once I die, Kamski when I get my hands on you, you motherfu-"]

#series: the silver chronicles #fic: this sweet leisure #far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #kinktober 2024 #oc: silva omar #faith seed #otp: boa lurking in the bliss #oc: azriel omar #reiterating from my last smut post I'm not the biggest smut writer #not my best writing either as this was a four week project i've been working on and at varying points of capacity to mentally process shit #so a lot of this may be rubbish or even ooc (even for my tastes)#post-fc5 but pre-fcnd #post-collapse but within the bunker years #not much to say other than silva's got an ungodly level of self-control over her breeding kink if she was willing to have one kid with fait #(not excluding azriel here but she's adopted by silva while mercy was conceived between silva and faith as you potentially witnessed)#also yes I am aware of faith’s canon… opinion (is putting it lightly it was detestment) on babies #I even vaguely inferred to it and her probable views on her own thoughts on the idea of getting pregnant here #so I’ve attempted to go around that and say “love makes you do things you normally wouldn’t for your partner”#and “missing a fic’s worth lot of background context for this oneshot” because that’s the only solution I could think of #I really was just banging my head on my desk before I said “fuck it”#and straight up went “she loves and trusts silva that much at this point that she was willing to reflect on her prev views #and take a leap of faith towards something big new and kind of scary but with someone she knew wouldn’t let her down nor do it alone”#the major themes of this series is “love” and “change” so I guess that checks out

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oldfacesnewdawnoffical · 2 years ago

Text

Ignite - A Dream of Destiny (Outline)

Google Docs version found [HERE]!

• Opens in a black-and-white fever dream-esque state, featuring a brutal scene between several cats at the edge of a river over a large expanse of smooth stones.

• Two specifically end up as the focus. After a while of back-and-forth fighting, one of them ends up victorious, slashing and clawing until their opponent crumples into the water.

• The victor lifts their eyes to meet the POV’s, and they are blue. A striking sight, the only color to be found within the entirety of the dream state.

• The POV makes a note that color has never been seen beforehand within “these sorts of dreams”.

• And then…

• Rust wakes with a start.

• After calming down and collecting himself, dismissing his dream as “one of many he’ll never see the outcome of” (+ an additional note that he’s had this specific dream several times in a row), he decides to walk around - as there’s little else to do in the ruins other than walk, scavenge, or interact with others.

• He does this part to set the theme and setting for the reader.

• He resides in a world ravaged by war and radiation, having long since been reclaimed by nature.

• The ruins specifically are the long-decayed remains of a human city, now claimed by nature and several animals.

• Eventually, he comes to the edge of the ruins, right on a border marked with a pile of debris and barbed wire to keep outsiders away. He just sits and watches for a while, ears pricked towards the sounds of the forest, feeling inexplicably drawn into it but hesitant to take that first step.

• He’s ultimately interrupted by Scourge: a cat who leads an organization known as “the Bloodbound” who controls and governs the ruins, and also personally looks after Rust specifically.

• He and Scourge tease one another for a while before a wolverine named Bone comes to fetch Scourge. He retreats, but not before leaving Rust with a message to pass to his adoptive father, Pine: “I know that he’s important to you, Rust, so I’ll give him a warning. He’s not welcome here. Tell him to stop testing my boundaries; I don’t want to make an example out of him, but I will if I have to.”

• Rust is uneasy, but he takes the message to Pine, tracing along the outskirts of the ruins until he’s closer to the softpaws-place, which is where Pine lurks. They spend some time together; Pine is far more jaded than Scourge, but also more outrightly warm and caring.

• He watches Pine hunt and tries to coax out a story from him about where he learned how to hunt so effectively, but Pine shuts him down. Rust delivers Scourge’s message, and Pine (who is distinctively elderly and short-tempered) snaps back that he’ll go where he pleases, and that Scourge doesn’t govern him.

• Rust, torn, then leaves to find Haggler, an ancient hound who runs a pseudo-gambling ring. He hangs out with her for a few days, occasionally stepping out to tag along with Frazzle, one of Scourge’s closest and most trusted companions.

• If he’s not with Haggler or Pine, he is with Scourge or Frazzle.

• This is because Rust is essentially Scourge’s unofficial heir, which in turn makes him a target for those who want to leverage more power for themselves.

• Some time passes. Various points are expressed:

• Scourge and Pine do not get along, on account of Pine being an ex-fealty cat and Scourge (+ the majority of the Bloodbound) holding a deep-rooted contempt for the forestfolk.

• Rust spends time with Haggler, exchanging prey (caught on the edges of the fealty territory) for stories, secrets, and rumors - specifically on Pine’s past, as the ragged ginger cat has grown increasingly more and more guarded about his origins, and increasingly more and more aggressive with Scourge and the Bloodbound.

• Rust worries for Pine. A lot.

• Rust is trained in combat by Frazzle!

• The Bloodbound heads dislike him immensely for the favor in which he is given.

• After even more time, Rust is fetched by Fury - one of the Bloodbound’s heads.

• Rust takes note of how Fury is usually a very hostile presence, eager for power and thrilled by bloodshed. He also takes note of how pleased and borderline gleeful she appears as she guides him from Haggler’s side.

• She takes him deep into the heart of the ruins, towards a makeshift arena where countless ruin wanderers, unaligned animals, and members of the Bloodbound have gathered.

• Rust is confused and scared, but he does his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

• Eventually, Scourge stands above them all, fully donned in all of his armor, and announces that this is what happens to transgressors, to those who deny the power of the Bloodbound…

• Frazzle seeks Rust out and tells him to stay put lest he displays any weakness. Rust is made to sit as a haggard, heavily injured Pine is dragged out and left in the arena… alongside one of Scourge’s captive archfiends.

• He watches in horror as Pine is publicly executed, slaughtered, and torn to shreds by the archfiend as the Bloodbound howls their approval. He looks up to Scourge, standing high above it all, face entirely impassive. He did this. What’s to say he won’t do it to me if I disobey him as Pine did?

• Frazzle continues to urge him to stay; if Rust leaves, or looks away, he’ll be chased down as the Bloodbound take such executions like this very seriously. Any sign of disapproval from anyone watching is grounds of being dragged down into the arena themselves.

• But Rust rips himself away, horrified and traumatized, body wracked with sobs. Even as he hears those sitting closest to him turn after him, snarling and hollering, sensing his weakness and eager to take advantage of it.

• He runs away, ultimately finding himself at the barricade between stone and forest, and launches himself over it, following along the edge of the trees until they part upon a stretch of dark, jagged rock. He knows whoever is chasing after him won’t follow him into the claimed forestlands; Scourge’s distaste of the valley extends deep into those he rules over.

• He races over the jagged rock, so blinded by horror and rage that he loses his footing and falls, slicing his leg open on one of the sharper, black rocks. The pain is blinding, but he somehow manages to scramble off of the path and into a forest; his leg pours blood, buzzing with agony. It’s difficult to move, difficult to breathe, difficult to see…

• He staggers and finally falls, slumping against the roots of a great, grand tree, bigger than any he had seen just from the edges of the forest… and descends into a world of darkness.

• Dream state v.2 (electric boogaloo).

• A strictly black-and-white sequence of horrific images:

• Infection claiming lives at horrifyingly breakneck speeds.

• Small animals being snatched and dragged across stones.

• Blood being spilled over dark, jagged rock.

• And images of Pine, being torn apart in the many jaws of the archfiend that took his life.

• After what feels like an eternity, yet merely heartbeats all the same, Rust forces his eyes open - and immediately freezes. He finds himself in the depths of a cool den, with its walls painted with various symbols and scenes, with carved shelves lined with seemingly hundreds of herbs, and a large, fluffy, pale cream-gray figure sorting through them.

• Rust warily rises to his paws and bolts out of the den, panic pumping him full of adrenaline and making him deaf to the other cat’s pleas for Rust to wait. As soon as he pushes his way outside, though, he is suddenly gripped and blinded by agony that makes him cry out and slump to the ground.

• The cat in the den rushes out to try and help him, gentle and kind but clearly worried.

• “Don’t push yourself so hard so soon! You’re recovering well - miraculously, in fact - but you won’t survive if you just rush out like that…”

• Rust is just about to submit and follow her, bone-tired, before he freezes up, realizing that he’s stumbled into the heart of a camp filled to the brim with cats who are all looking straight at him. Some wary, some curious, but all of them staring and making his heart pound.

• He hears some kittens loudly ask a golden tortoiseshell if that was “the loner dragged in last moon”; the molly quickly shushes them. The realization of how much time has passed makes Rust’s fur prickle.

• A lean gray colorpoint climbs to the top of a stone spire and calls to “Purrheale Featherwhisker”, remarking how their “guest” is finally awake. The fluffy cat that Rust presses himself against for balance dips their head respectfully and agrees, stating that he woke shortly ago.

• Rust does not follow the senior cat’s respectful gesture and glares up at the molly that stands well above everyone else. Instead, he grits his teeth against the pain and snarls: “Where am I? Who are you? Scourge won’t take kindly to you taking me hostage!”

• Despite it being Rust himself bringing up Scourge’s name, it still sparks some panic within him that he desperately tries to smother.

• The molly is intrigued, if not a little shocked by Rust’s sharp tone; Rust takes note of the flicker in her gaze with a flash of satisfaction. She answers easily enough: “I am Rhema Rainfall, orator and leader of the Woodruff faction. You’re not a hostage, young one; you were found on the cusp of death. We took you in to save your life.”

• A calico shoulders her way to the front of the crowd. Her pelt is heavily decorated, cats easily part before her, and she carries herself with an air of superiority. Rust instantly decides that he dislikes her.

• “I was the one who found you,” she says, proudly. Her gaze glitters, uncomfortably keen and appraising. “I had a vision, sent by the stars! A flame would come to guide us through a coming darkness… and you’ve come, just as I have predicted!”

• The crowd around her murmurs and shifts, uncertain and suspicious, but some hopeful.

• Rust fluffs out his fur. “Dunno’ if you’ve noticed, bitch, but I’m a cat. Not fire.” (Or… insert some other dry commentary here cause’ this sounds like the comeback of a 9 year old trying to be tough…)

• Shock flares from the calico, and Rust takes note of it with a sense of satisfaction. Before she can speak again, though, another cat marches forward: a mostly fawn torbie.

• “What, an outsider?” She snaps. “There’s no way the stars would ever send an outsider to guide us! Just look at him! He came to us in need of our help! He’s no fire!” She flexes her claws and stalks forward. “I’ll prove it.”

• A few cats murmur eager approval to this statement. Particularly: Minktail, Tanglethroat, Yewstripe, Mousesnap, Patchedpelt, Cherrystorm, Robinwhisker, and Jackdaw.

• Alarm flares white-hot within Rust, and he frantically looks between Rainfall and Featherwhisker, uncertain and still heavily in pain. Rainfall just looks contemplative, her expression guarded, but a smaller dark tortie at her side looks horrified and enraged.

• “Sand!” The tortie snaps. Rust’s challenger flinches. “Enough! This is no way to treat a guest of our faction!” He falters as Rainfall’s tail flicks over his paws.

• “No.” She muses. “If Sand wishes to challenge the legitimacy of Spottedleaf’s vision, she may. Unless, of course, our guest is not yet recovered enough to face her.”

• That lights a challenge within Rust. He limps forward, shaking off Featherwhisker, still unused to the pain flaring up his side from his left hind leg, and bares his teeth at Sand.

• They fight.

• Even with Sand’s age and advanced combat skills taught in the fealty, Rust grew up within the Bloodbound and he fights dirty.

• He ends up tearing one of Sand’s ears.

• Rust ends up victorious!

• As he stands back, triumphant, a beam of sunlight slides over his fur, lighting up the tufts of brilliant red that speckle his coat, and highlighting the blood that drips from his maw. The faction is silent, in awe, before Spottedleaf speaks, her voice shrill with excitement:

• “Our fire is here!”

• Rust then proceeds to pass out, overcome by agony.

• No dreams this time! Just a blissful state of blank unconsciousness.

• Rust wakes a few days later to a slight commotion. Featherwhisker is gone, replaced by a skittish dark-furred cat with three eyes. He confronts the newcomer, who immediately whirls around, panicked; Rust awkwardly adjusts his tone.

• The newcomer introduces themself as Raven.

• “Its the Gathering tonight… oh, um… you probably don’t know what that is. Uhm, Purrheale Featherwhisker was needed somewhere else, b-but she’ll be back!”

• Rust shifts in his nest. “Uh… Kay’. Why are you here, then?”

• Raven flinches. “I was training under her for a little while… I’m the second most knowledgeable in herbs. I-I figured I could watch over you until she got back, be useful… I didn’t expect you to wake up…”

• The two continue to talk. Slowly, Raven becomes more at ease, and Rust finds an odd sense of comfort in him.

• Some talking points:

• Rust asks more about the faction.

• Raven asks how Rust was driven into Woodruff territory, leading to a PTSD flashback of Pine’s death that he manages to shake off.

• Sand is mentioned; Raven says how she’s pissed at having been beaten and injured by an outsider. Featherwhisker left her ear untended as punishment for attacking an injured cat, only giving her necessary herbs to fight infection and nothing for the pain.

• Rust finds some interest in faction life as he asks Raven about certain cats: Featherwhisker, Spottedleaf, Sand, Rainfall, etc. Rust asks after Spottedleaf, specifically - mostly, about her weird “fire” ramblings. Raven awkwardly explains that Spottedleaf is their augur, and as they’re recovering from famine, she’s been especially keen on trying to find anything from the stars that might help them. Rust is a little weirded out by this but mostly he’s just kind of “uh… kay’. Cool. Wtf does that have to do with me?” Raven shrugs.

• Shyly, Raven offers to show him around the camp while it's not quite so crowded - so long as Rust is up to it, of course. Rust is, of course, up to it.

• The camp is mostly empty, with a majority of cats had gone to the Gathering. Most of the cats are asleep, which strikes Rust as somewhat odd, but a few stragglers are awake. Cherrystorm greets Raven with a flurry of signs, but glares at Rust; a mound of gray fur (Brindleface) turns their head to follow Rust from where they lay beside a den of carefully woven brambles thick with blackberries and thorns; a younger colorpoint cat (Jackdaw) fiddles with an unfinished toy made of twigs; etc.

• Rust is introduced to Bear, who woke up as soon as Raven tried to show Rust the inside of the den (after a glaring match with Jackdaw). Raven tried to apologize and backpedal, but that just led to Bear springing up and peppering Rust with attention and questions.

• “Your leg scars are so cool!! It's so awesome you were able to get back up off the darkpath!!!”

• “Your fur is weird looking!!! But in a nice way!”

• “Will you be staying? Are you gonna leave after you’re feeling better?”

• Etc. Note that Bear is like,, the equivalent of a young teenager with MASSIVE amounts of ADHD. Dude is bouncing off the walls and just excited to meet someone new.

• Rust just stammers and backs away, overwhelmed. Raven apologizes meekly for not asking Bear to take it easy, and explains that Bear is just excited because his official naming ceremony was shortly after Rust arrived - he thinks the two occurrences are linked.

• Rust is intrigued by the mention of a “naming ceremony”, but he doesn’t press, sensing that Raven is even more overwhelmed than he is.

• Exhausted, Raven guides Rust back to the den. Rust is happy he’s seemingly made a friend in this skittish cat, and sheepishly asks if Raven would be willing to stay in the allay’s quarters until Featherwhisker returns. Raven beams and scraps together their own little nest to sleep near Rust’s side.

• Small time skip to a few weeks after Raven and Rust’s little friendly friends friend time.

• Rust is recovering nicely! Featherwhisker instructs him on how to do daily exercises and physical therapy (Rust hates physical therapy. Just like Spotty), he’s made fast friends with Raven, and he’s slowly warming up to being in the faction.

• Rainfall and Spottedleaf are watching him. Very closely. The entire faction is watching him, really, but he takes note especially of how those two always seem to be making mental notes of his every move.

• Spottedleaf also tries to talk to him, a lot. He dislikes her, gets the heeby jeebies from her, and tries to avoid the weirdo religious fanatic lady who bragged about dragging an injured stranger off the side of a road to said injured stranger.

• Rainfall, however, keeps her distance. Rust sees her a lot with Sand, and with the cat who called Sand out initially. While Rainfall appraises him coolly, Sand shoots him a lot of death glares.

• Bear brings his first catch to Rust. The cat overseeing his training, Fritillaryheart, is incredibly friendly; Rust likes them. He’s also somewhat touched by Bear’s eagerness to share such a milestone with him, even if they’re both a little awkward about it.

• Rust also notes, though, how self-serving Bear is. He chalks this up to Bear’s youth, energy, and easy excitement.

• Rust hears about Jackdaw from Raven. Jackdaw is the black sheep of the faction who sticks to his own company primarily, and his glares are similar to Sand’s, though in a more curious way. Raven always talks about him with a note of sadness in their voice. Rust doesn’t press on it.

• He also takes note of a massive, impressive cat with talons for forepaws. Raven is incredibly intimidated by her due to her power and her status as one of the most powerful cats within the valley; her name is Laurelstorm. Rust and Laurelstorm have a mini staring contest before a ginger tabby comes and draws her attention.

• Rust is eventually pulled to the side by Mottledtail, who introduces himself officially as the faction’s liaison - their second in command. Rust is immediately reminded of Brick and Bone, but he shoves the thoughts away.

• Mottledtail cuts right to the chase: Spottedleaf claims that Rust is the fire of her vision. Rainfall wishes for more bodies in the wake of a recently passed cruel season. Featherwhisker is almost ready to check off Rust’s recovery.

• “I won’t try and pressure you to stay. But… I will ask that you consider it. You’re wanted here, you know.”

• That almost makes Rust cry. Never has he really been told he’s been wanted anywhere, or by anyone.

• Rust promises to think about it. Mottledtail smiles warmly and awkwardly pats Rust’s shoulder.

• After some thought, watching Raven talk nervously with Mottledtail, watching Bear bounce around Willowpelt, watching Rainfall look over her cats with a sense of subtle pride and a legitimate warmth… plus the fact that he was quite literally chased out of the ruins… Rust’s decision comes easily enough.

• In honor of his decision to stay, Rainfall renames him “Fire”. The newly named tom is very hesitant to accept the name.

• In “celebration” of his acceptance into the faction, and to push Fire a little with his new limitations, he’s invited to the Gathering. Bear comes along, but Raven stays behind; the crowds and noise aren’t good for them. That description makes Fire a little nervous, but one of the other cats (Brindleface) steps up to soothe him and explain.

• They explain what the Gathering is, who the other factions are, and who leads them.

• Spottedleaf brushes her aside and takes Brindleface’s place, crowding into Fire’s space. His ears flatten but she doesn’t seem to notice.

• She boasts about how she is one of two augurs, herself and Sors Dreamtongue of the Fenland. She’s just that important!

• She rattles on further about how weak the other factions are, how the Woodruff is leagues above all of them, especially now that they have the fire to guide them.

• Her tone makes Fire uncomfortable, but he’s rescued by Laurelstorm, who snaps at her until she leaves.

• Fire sheepishly thanks the powerful molly, who just hums softly.

• “Its not a problem, kit. Spottedleaf has a tendency to talk too much and not read her room. She just needs somebody to knock some silence into her at times.”

• Fire notes that Laurelstorm didn’t address Spottedleaf by her “Sors” title.

• They arrive at the Gathering site, and Fire’s breath is stolen by the beauty of it. Covered in greenery and lit up by countless fireflies, bordered by color and flowers.

• Laurelstorm sticks to Fire’s side, and her presence is somewhat soothing for him.

• The other wards that came along (Bear, Jackdaw and Sand) all go in their separate ways, though Jackdaw does slink after Sand, leveling a glare at Fire while Sand just ignores him.

• They all settle with various cats, but Fire is invited to stay by Laurelstorm’s side - which he takes up.

• Yewstripe follows; Fire takes note that he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yewstripe not in Laurelstorm’s shadow. Minktail also follows, and he and Fire get into a back-and-forth sharp meaningless bickering match until Laurelstorm cuts them off.

• Laurelstorm settles with some cats who smell of rushing, clean water and fish. She introduces them to Fire as Sunningstrike and Fogtongue of the Riverward, and introduces Fire to them in turn as the Woodruff’s newest ward.

• Sunningstrike glares a little at him but says nothing.

• Fogtongue is Bear 2.0: brash, excitable, touchy. The whole works. He eagerly points out his own orator - his father, Crookedstorm. He says this with a note of pride in his voice; Sunningstrike rolls her eyes.

• Later, they’re joined by the Moorsweeper Morningwhistle, who in turn drags Onewhisker over; he’s a newly named supporter. (She wants him to have more friends) He and Fire hit it off after some initial awkwardness; he’s also friendly with Minktail, who later wanders off with Mousesnap and Skipperstripe.

• For a while, the three factions exchange pleasantries.

• The orators settle themselves upon a great, jutting stone while the cats below mingle and laugh with one another.

• Some of the Riverwardens settle in a corner and make music.

• More cats settle at the center of the grand clearing to swap items, give gifts, or exchange stories.

• The casual aura of the evening fills Fire with a sense of rightness.

• The last to arrive to the Gathering are the Fenlanders, who are led by a heavily-decorated golden cat with a gleam in his eyes.

• Immediately, the whole of the Gathering is murmuring. It breaks out into something far more outraged as the golden cat strides up to sit with the orators, and a siamese-marked cat sits with the liaisons.

• Tense, Fire asks what’s going on.

• Laurelstorm answers: thats Sors Dreamtongue, the Fenland’s augur.

• “Whatever game he’s playing, I hope he knows he’s not walking away from this without upsetting many…”

• The black-and-white orator asks lowly what Dreamtongue is doing. Dreamtongue announces that he has become the orator in the wake of his mother’s death. The crowd breaks into shouts, but Dreamtongue calls for silence.

• He announces that, as per Fenland custom, he shall succeed his mother. He is the next in line for the title, his blood is just as powerful as Raggedclaw’s (if not more so!), and him being an augur does not change this nor will “he allow it to limit him”.

• While Fire doesn’t fully understand, he can clearly tell that this isn’t right, and that it's upsetting many.

• Magpietail protests, but Dreamtongue whirls around on him, eyes glittering. Fire digs his claws into the ground as a shiver washes over him.

• “You should have the least to say! My mother was found on your lands! I had hoped I needn’t expose the bloodthirstiness of you Moorsweepers tonight, but yet, here we are!”

• The crowd explodes again.

• Onewhisker growls at a Fenlander who inched closer. Laurelstorm puts Fire behind her and looms over the Fenlander until they back off, though she eyes Onewhisker warily - and keeps Fire away from him.

• Fire is horrified and gladly stays away from Onewhisker after that. The thought of a brutal murder taking place within the fealty’s valley, the place he ran to in order to escape the blood-stained streets of the ruins while they reside under Scourge’s rule… It shakes him.

• The Gathering is short after that.

• Magpietail and Dreamtongue snarl in one another’s faces for a while; Crookedstorm breaks it up.

• The Moorsweepers and Fenlanders claim opposite sides of the Gathering space.

• Dreamtongue announces that while he will become an orator, he will not stop being augur. He will be taking the title “Rhema-Sors” from here on out.

• Rainfall calls the Gathering early.

• For the next several days, the camp is buzzing. It's obvious that Dreamtongue’s claim was incredibly controversial, but no one knows exactly how to handle it.

• Fire, meanwhile, has been at Featherwhisker’s side. Not only is Featherwhisker the main overseer for Fire’s physical therapy and various exercises, Fire has also taken an acute interest in the herbs which they manage. Watching various cats come and go, watching Featherwhisker care for them, knowing how skilled he must be as a healer… Fire admires him greatly.

• Occasionally, Spottedleaf pops up and messes with Fire. Trying to get him to admire her in turn, raving about how important Fire is and how important she is in turn. Mottledtail and Laurelstorm individually shoo her away more than once, and Fire is invited to train with Mottledtail and Raven a few times. Fire always wins the combat training, but due to the fact that he never learned to hunt prior to fealty life, alongside his balance being somewhat thrown by his injury, he’s a poor hunter.

• It's during one of these training sessions that Fire catches wind of an odd scent and follows it. The scent is that of illness, and it's clinging to a scraggly gray tortoiseshell.

• After briefly interrogating her, Fire’s empathy outweighs his suspicion and he calls for Mottledtail and Raven’s help. The three of them guide the sick molly back to the Woodruff’s camp, where she introduces herself as Chanterellefang.

• She starts to call herself “Purrheale” but cuts herself off with a snarl.

• She’s presented to Rainfall, who asks (coldly) why a Fenlander is trespassing on their territory, especially so soon after Dreamtongue has made such bold claims against the Moorswept.

• Chanterellefang explains that she is desperate; Fire takes a note of how hesitant she seems to admit that. Rainfall clearly sees it too. She goes on to explain how the Fenland is suffering under Dreamtongue’s rule, and how, recently, they’ve not only taken in a large number of unaligned to bolster their ranks, but they’ve also driven out the Moorswept. The moors are soaked with blood.

• The entirety of the Woodruff is horrified by this, but some are more suspicious than others.

• Mousesnap challenges her words, saying that no one could possibly drive out one of the fealty’s factions. Its unheard of! Minktail and Skipperstripe back her up.

• Yewstripe snarls that Chanterellefang must just be a spy who was unlucky enough to get caught, and was scrambling for a cover story. Cherrystorm grunts her agreement.

• Speckledclaw grumbles about Dreamtongue’s reign, and how the stars must be displeased if they allowed anyone, let alone an augur, do such a thing - if Chanterellefang’s words are even true.

• Fire looks to Laurelstorm, and then to Featherwhisker, hesitant. Laurelstorm is impassive, contemplative. Featherwhisker looks as though she is itching to leap to Chanterellefang’s side to ease her clear suffering.

• Rainfall calls for silence. Chanterellefang is taken prisoner, and Fire blurts out that she needs medicine; she’s clearly sick. Unimpressed with his outburst, Rainfall instructs Fire to care for her, which Fire reluctantly agrees to.

• He spends some time with Chanterellefang, borrowing herbs to offer her.

• She reminds him so much of Haggler that his chest aches.

• They spend the remainder of that day together, with Fire challenging anyone who so much as glares at the haggard, exhausted, desperate molly now under his care.

• As the day slips into night, Chanterellefang becomes more active, and Fire does in turn; he hasn’t quite grown used to the Woodruff’s dinural ways.

• The two talk and grow surprisingly close in just a few hours. As they settle down to sleep, as Chanterellefang needs rest, Fire hesitantly tucks himself against her side to soothe her chill and keep track of her breathing.

• As he sleeps, Fire dreams.

• Another black-and-white dream.

• This time, its of the Moorswept Massacre, as it will later be called.

• The Fenlanders (+ company) brutally rip the Moorsweeper’s home to shreds. Ruining their gardens, dismantling traps, crippling their way of life. They return later, in a wave like a tsunami, and destroy the Moorsweeper’s current camp directly.

• Cats are murdered. Kittens are stolen. Magpietail falls. And above them all, Dreamtongue’s golden head is raised proudly.

• Fire wakes with a start; Chanterellefang shook him awake.

• Later, Fire goes to Rainfall to tell her that he believes Chanterellefang is telling the truth. Rainfall presses as to why, which leads to Fire admitting that, on occasion, he sometimes receives dreams that guide him on safer, better paths.

• Rainfall’s eyes glitter, but she thanks Fire and sends him on his way. He loiters with Raven and Bear for a while. He and Jackdaw get into a fight, with Sand coming to back Jackdaw up. The fight fizzles out on its own.

• Rainfall sends Chestnutfur and Willowpelt to the Fenland in an effort to collect information and send “good graces” to Dreamtongue. Only Willowpelt returns. Cherrystorm is distraught, fearing the worst, and hangs in the healer’s quarters for a long time.

• Eventually, Spottedleaf, Featherwhisker, Mottledtail, and Rainfall sit Fire down to interrogate him about his dreams. He awkwardly does his best to explain them, how they lack any sort of definitive detail and moreso rely more on Fire’s own feelings to interpret later when he wakes. Their “meeting” dissolves with only Fire feeling uneasy to show for it.

• Sand glares daggers at him.

• Illness strikes, carried from Chanterellefang. Mapletail and Robinwhisker succumb to it.

• Fire is stricken by the amount of such heavy loss that has struck the faction.

• He takes note of Laurelstorm’s behavior, how she suddenly becomes incredibly reserved, avoiding Fire, speaking in low, hushed tones to the likes of Yewstripe.

• More than once, Fire catches glimpses of her eyes, and how cold they are.

• Like Scourge’s.

• “Her eyes gain a glaze that he’s seen before in the colder gaze of Scourge”.

• Another Gathering occurs. Fire stays behind this time to care for Chanterellefang.

• When the party returns, gossip spreads like wildfire through the camp.

• Dreamtongue caught wind of Chanterellefang being within the Woodruff, and demanded her back.

• Bear looks especially guilty and stricken; he was the one who spilled the rumor to a few young Fenland wards.

• Rainfall refuses his demands and makes him confess to the Moorswept’s fate.

• He also confesses to the death of Chestnutfur, who he viewed as a threat, as Chestnutfur held no Fenland blood and acted with hostility.

• Rainfall calls Chanterellefang to her den. The two talk, but neither let Fire in on exactly what about.

• In the morning, just as the sun is breeching the sky, the Fire Nation (the Fenland) attacks.

• It is brutal.

• The nursery and allay’s quarters are targeted.

• Chanterellefang is attempted to be dragged out by several Fenlanders (+ company, PLUS some of mindless redwinged hawks that were stolen from the Moorswept). Chanterellefang refuses to leave and fights with the Woodruffians.

• Spottedleaf flees the camp, panicked.

• Mottledtail is targeted, but Laurelstorm comes to his aid before Fire loses sight of them both.

• Fire ends up grappling with Dreamtongue himself, who loses pitifully to him until Chanterellefang rushes to Fire’s side.

• Dreamtongue is overjoyed, begging at his mother’s paws to return to him, be happy with him, that he could keep her safe in the Fenland-!

• She slashes him across the face, and across the eyes.

• His bloodcurdling screams are seemingly a sign of the Fenland’s retreat.

• The death count in the aftermath is devastating:

• The kitten Duranta sustained heavy injuries having been ripped from his mother.

• Featherwhisker is found dead, having been protecting the herb stores.

• Mottledtail was murdered, his body found in the shadows of the orator’s quarters.

• Spottedleaf is missing.

• Elmheart is also found dead, alongside Nettlewhisper.

• It takes days for the faction to recover.

• Dreamtongue is holed up in the historian’s quarters, with the two remaining historians (Dappledfur and Tanglethroat) being moved to the nursery. He is now blind, and a prisoner.

• The whole camp reeks of blood and grief. Sand especially is horrified, and when Fire comes to grieve with her over Mottledtail, she doesn’t push him away.

• Sand is given her full name, Sandstorm, in honor of the ferocity with which she fought in such a devastating battle.

• Fire tells Rainfall that he will be the faction’s new allay. She is incredibly hesitant and resistant, but he’s dug his heels in, and she ultimately breaks.

• She hastily names him Firefall, after herself, and for his “graceless fall into the position”. He’s even less enthusiastic about this name change than the first.

• He, Chanterellefang, and Tanglethroat prepare the bodies for their funerals.

• Firefall specifically takes over preparing Mottledtail’s for burial.

• As the book comes to a close, he takes note of the wounds in Mottledtail’s throat. How they weren’t made by cat claws, but by talons - evidenced as to Firefall knowing what raptor wounds look like due to the number of vultures having lurked within the ruins, alongside Scourge’s own paws sporting talons.

• He’s confused, horrified, and as the book closes, he looks up to watch Laurelstorm across the clearing, conversing deeply with Yewstripe, licking her talons clean…

END

Time Elapsed: 5 moons

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