The put-tut, or often among different cultural groups known as 'half a sloman', are contradictory to a common belief, not actually half of a sloman running around the forest at night.
They are a very distant relative to the sloman, with their limb structure being somewhat similar and both having horizontal jaws and more posable head.
Half-sloms eat smaller animals and meggs that they find buried or hidden in treeholes, but if they get a chance, they won't say no to larger ground-dwelling prey. In this case, their arms are largely unused while their legs deliver surprisingly powerful kicks and tears to flesh.
They can be found in many areas with some subspecies variation better fitting 'grass'land, forest, and shore environments. However, they are rare to witness, partially due to them being a popular bounty within sloman groups. These slomen believe in an inherent malice of the animal (as featured in folklore and a few religions). It probably doesn't help put-tuts find young slomen to be of suitable nutritional value.
Poobs are closely related to half-sloms but their diet is much more focused on invertebrates. When they do prey on larger animals, it's often a consequence of taking an unwilling hostage.
When a poob hides or goes to rest, they don't bother making their own burrow and just find one they like and get in. Sometimes these homes still have residents inside that the poob will kick and scratch until the owner gets tired. Other times they take whatever food stash or baby animals are for grabs at the den as the owner desperately tries to get inside their home. The skull of the poob is thick, even if that means their brain gets to be a bit disproportional. They will also take mud baths and get their head dirty on purpose to better hide their identity.
In the few areas where poob and put-tut species populations overlap, put-tuts have learned to fish the poobs out of their stolen burrows, making for a tough but rewarding meal.
Tower above thee, with a crown of orange ice
Come with me, out into the frigid sea
Polgand populations have consolidated on the small continent of Ar-kkjarr. Under the control of Southern Conferous. Living in coastal bogs, Polgand frequently venture out into the frigid sea to graze on flora peering over the waves. Sharp and dexterous fangs make quick work of puncturing and tearing fruit. The animal takes its time to dice up its chosen meal when back on shore. Often, they venture out and stick one fruit on each fang. Then rip and swallow when back on land. Always courting hypothermia despite antifreeze compounds located in the legs and body. Young are more susceptible to the cold and cannot venture out for long. After a harvest or when the animal has grown too cold, they retreat to hot springs located deeper into the bog. Opening up opportunities for ambush yet the need to chase away the cold outweighs the risks.
With a heavy stomp and attacks that stun and bludgeon, Polgand fear few things. Even when braving the sea. Leading to them showing minimal fear when faced with peril or even death. Instead, standing their ground and fighting off whatever pursues them if they cannot flee out into the sea.
The young given their frail nature, stay close to the hotsprings. And only occasionally risk the cold water in an attempt to learn to swim as they lack the height to be able to wade. By staying deeper in the bog, they risk high predation. Yet find safety in the warmth. Leading to a need to hide and blend in, and so the young are born white with mottled green and grey markings. Blending into rocks and snowy grass. This coat is lost over time, growing into the purplish blues and spotted white of the adults. A rite of passage be their first true dive in search of food after this youngling coat is lost. Afterwards, they may stick with the herd or migrate in search of another.
Y/N POV — Time of Day — Sunrise— Location — Nest — Count down Till The Fourth Moon — 4 Days
You surfaced slowly.
Not the gentle kind of waking, either but rather—-
Pain.
Not sharp—no, this was the deep, full-bodied ache of a night lived enthusiastically. Your legs protested when you shifted.
Your shoulders felt like you’d been hauled across half the Chain Islands.
Your feet throbbed with the dull satisfaction of too much dancing.
And deeper still, an intimate soreness bloomed when you inhaled that made you groan outright.
“Ugh,” you rasped into the blankets.
Sunlight filtered in through the tiny holes in the Sleeping Nest’s ceiling—thin beams of gold dusting the stone walls, catching on the faint bioluminescent veins that still glowed softly from the night.
Despite the pain it was peaceful, heavy with warmth and lingering dreams.
However you never have peace for long.
Something poked your cheek.
Once.
Twice.
Three time.
You squinted one eye open.
A familiar round face hovered inches from yours, eyes bright, curls slightly damp like she’d been playing near the bathing pools again. Lila sat beside you, grinning like she’d discovered a new and fascinating button.
“Mama,” she said cheerfully, and poked your cheek again. “Wake up.”
You let your head fall back with a dramatic groan, the sound rough and tired as it left you. “Mhmm… five more minutes bug.”
She giggled—full-body, delighted giggling—the kind that started in her belly and shook her shoulders.
She leaned closer, curls brushing your nose. “You makin’ funny noises.”
“Because I regret everything,” you muttered, voice muffled into the blanket.
That only made her laugh harder.
Normally—normally—that sound would be your favorite thing in the world.
Lila’s laugh had always been a balm, something that cut through fear and exhaustion and reminded you why you kept going.
But right now, with your head pounding like the tide crashing against stone, every burst of giggles felt like a tiny hammer tapping directly behind your eyes.
You groaned softly and lifted one hand to your temple, fingers pressing there as if you could physically push the ache back where it belonged. “Sweetheart,” you murmured.
Trying for gentle and landing somewhere closer to pitiful, “Mama’s head is… very loud.”
She blinked at you, studying your face with serious concentration, then leaned even closer—too close—her breath warm and faintly sweet against your cheek.
Her nose squished against yours, her forehead bumping your brow as she peered at you like you were a puzzle.
“Head go boom?” she asked solemnly.
“Yes,” you sighed. “Head go big boom.”
She nodded, apparently satisfied with this explanation, and then—without warning—pressed her face fully into yours, squishing her cheeks against your mouth and nose.
You huffed a breath out, half laugh, half groan, and turned your head away slowly, carefully, like moving too fast might shatter you.
She giggled again at the movement, delighted that she’d elicited a reaction.
But she wasn’t the only one who moved.
As you shifted, you felt it—the familiar, steady pressure of ocean-blue coils tightening around you, instinctive and protective.
Azraq stirred behind you, his body adjusting without fully waking, tail drawing closer, looping around your legs and waist until you were enclosed again.
Even though he was cold-blooded, holding him all night always left his coils warm—heated by proximity, by shared rest, by the nest itself.
Right now, it felt like being wrapped in sun-warmed stone.
You sighed despite yourself and snuggled back instinctively.
A breath brushed near your ear. A presence—awake now.
“I warned you, my flame,” came Azraq’s low voice, amused and gentle all at once.
You didn’t even open your eyes. “Bite me,” you muttered.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating faintly through his chest and into your back. You felt the brush of his lips against your eyelid—a brief, careful kiss that made no demands of you.
Then there was a subtle shift by your head as he propped himself up, resting his chin in his hand, watching you.
You could feel his gaze even with your eyes still closed.
“How do you feel, my heart?” he asked.
You exhaled slowly and finally opened your eyes, staring up at the stone ceiling of the nest where thin threads of sunlight filtered in. “Sore.” you said honestly.
You turned your eyes toward him, one brow lifting just a fraction. “In more places than I thought I’d be.”
It was your dry, sideways way of saying it—no detail, just the implication of a body that had, danced, and been used in a way that still made your toes curl.
Azraq let out a playful hiss, more pleased than chastened, and leaned down to nuzzle your hair, his cheek brushing your temple. “A testament to enthusiasm,” he murmured.
You giggled despite yourself as he leaned closer, the sound soft and a little breathless, and he took that as permission.
Azraq’s attention became relentless in the gentlest way—light kisses brushed along your cheek, your temple, the corner of your mouth.
His nose nudged your skin, nuzzling like he was mapping you by touch, like he needed to reassure himself you were still right there.
“Azraq,” you huffed, half-laughing, half-pleading. “You’re gonna make my head worse.”
“A risk I am more than willing to take,” he murmured, clearly unrepentant, brushing one last kiss to your jaw.
You barely had time to register it before she clambered over you with all the coordination of a determined kitten.
“Oof—” you muttered. “My kidney.. My poor sweet kidney.”
Her knee pressed into your side, her elbow into your ribs, and you let out a very undignified groan as she reached him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Mine,” she declared, hugging him tight.
Azraq chuckled and shifted smoothly, sitting up and lifting Lila with practiced ease. He settled her against his chest, one arm secure around her small back. “Worry not, little one,” he said warmly.
“There is more than enough of me to share.”
She grinned, pleased with that answer, and pressed her face into his neck. “Azzy warm.”
He nuzzled her hair, eyes soft. “That is because you steal my heat.”
She giggled at that, completely delighted.
You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands before pushing yourself upright.
Your body protested immediately—every muscle stiff, your head throbbing dully behind your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to orient yourself, then stretched carefully, arms lifting over your head with a small groan.
“Stars,” you muttered. “What time is it?”
Azraq glanced toward the small openings in the stone above, where pale light filtered in. “Still early,” he said. “The sun has yet to fully rise.”
You nodded, another yawn pulling at your mouth whether you wanted it or not. You barely covered it before groaning again and pressing a hand to your stomach. “Ugh. I should not have drunk that last cup.”
He arched his brow. “Only the last cup?”
You shot him a look. “Don’t.”
Lila tilted her head, watching you with serious curiosity. “Mama tummy mad?”
“Yes,” you said gravely. “Mamas tummy is very mad.”
She considered this, then leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Needs soup.”
You paused, then let out a breathy laugh. “You know what bug? You’re absolutely right.”
Azraq smiled faintly. “She has excellent instincts.”
“She’s my child after all,” you muttered smiling.
You swung your legs over the edge of the nest slowly, pausing when the world tilted just a bit. Azraq noticed immediately—
His tail shifted, bracing against the stone near your feet, steadying you without a word.
“Easy,” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” you lied.
Then sighed as Azraq didn't even look convinced for even a second. “Okay, I’m mostly fine.”
Somewhere in the Nest, there was a loud splash followed by a very satisfied warble.
You sighed. “Please tell me Taco is not in the Bathing Chamber right now.”
Azraq’s only huffed. “Better that than to steal all of our food.”
“Fair enough.”
Lila perked up at the sound. “Taco go splashy?”
“Yes,” you said dryly. “Very splashy.”
She wiggled in Azraq’s arms. “Wanna see!”
“Later.” you said quickly. “Mama needs… food. And maybe to not move for several more minutes.”
Azraq rose smoothly, coils unspooling with quiet grace. He set Lila gently on her feet, then turned back to you. “Remain here,” he said softly. “I will bring something gentle for your stomach.”
You waved him off weakly. “You don’t have to—”
“I wish to, and so I shall,” he replied simply.
That stopped you.
You nodded and smiled. “Okay.”
He brushed his knuckles lightly along your cheek, then turned and slithered away, Lila toddling after him at once.
“Azzy wait!” she called. “I comin too!”
You watched them go, that small, quiet smile lingering on your lips long after they disappeared down the curved passage.
The ache in your head was still there—dull, persistent—but it no longer felt sharp enough to matter.
Not when your chest felt… full. Warm in a way that had nothing to do with coils or blankets.
You leaned your head back against the stone wall and closed your eyes.
And for once, your thoughts didn’t immediately spiral into contingency plans, escape routes, worst-case scenarios.
Instead, they drifted backward.
A lifetime of moving alone.
Of making deals instead of bonds.
Of keeping people at arm’s length because caring had always been a liability.
You’d been competent.
Capable.
Determined
Ruthless.
But cared for?
Your mouth curved a little more as the truth settled in.
You didn’t think you’d ever had anyone care for you the way Azraq did—not quietly, not without expectation, not without trying to own or change you.
He didn’t demand. He offered.
Presence.
Protection.
Warmth.
Choice.
You exhaled slowly, letting that realization settle into your bones.
Stars.
You stayed there for a few moments longer, basking in the quiet, until your body reminded you—loudly—that celebration, dancing, drinking, and poor decisions had consequences.
“A soak,” you murmured to yourself. “I need a soak.”
You pushed yourself up slowly, wincing as your muscles protested, and padded into the main area of the nest.
That was when you spotted him.
Azraq stood in the Storage Room, coils spread carefully so he wouldn’t knock anything over, Lila perched on his arm like a very important supervisor. He moved deliberately, lifting jars and bundles with careful precision, holding Lila away from anything sharp or heavy as he examined ingredients.
“No, little one,” he said gently as she reached for a pouch. “That is much too strong for what your mother needs.”
“Smell funny” she declared.
“That it does,” he agreed solemnly, setting it aside.
You paused there, just watching them for a moment—
How easily he balanced her weight, how instinctively his body shifted to keep her safe, how focused he looked despite her constant commentary.
Your chest tightened again, this time in a different way.
“I’m gonna go soak for a bit,” you called softly.
Azraq turned his head immediately, golden eyes finding you. “Be careful, my heart.”
You waved him off with a tired smile. “Don’t worry about me.”
He watched you go anyway.
Of course he did.
The Bathing Chamber greeted you with humid warmth and the echoing drip of mineral water. Steam curled lazily along the ceiling, catching light in soft halos.
And right in the center of it all—
“Taco,” you sighed.
The Mirukai lifted his head from the water at the sound of your voice, long neck rising with slow, liquid grace.
He warbled softly, the sound low and resonant, vibrating through the chamber like something ancient and pleased.
Golden eyes—old eyes, thoughtful eyes—fixed on you as his frilled head fanned slightly.
He blinked once.
Then again.
And tilted his head, watching you with an intensity that felt far too knowing for a creature who insisted on pooping valuables in communal bathing pools.
You shook your head, lips quirking despite yourself. “You are unbelievable.”
He answered by drifting in a slow circle, massive shell gliding through the water with surprising delicacy, coral spines brushing the surface and sending tiny ripples toward the stone edge.
You turned your attention back to yourself and began to disrobe.
Normally, you’d ask Azraq for soaps or oils— He always seemed to have something special prepared.
But right now, you didn’t want ceremony or assistance.
You wanted quiet.
Warmth.
The simple honesty of water against skin.
You folded your clothes neatly and set them on the warm stone ledge.
They weren’t the festival things from last night—no tight fabrics, no deliberate beauty meant to dazzle.
Just your usual wear around the Nest: Your simple short blue top and simple skirt.
Functional.
Beautiful in its own quiet and simple way.
You paused for half a second, a flicker of realization passing through you.
You didn’t remember changing out of the festival clothes.
Heat crept up your neck.
“…Stars,” you muttered.
Azraq must have done it—carefully, gently, while you slept.
The thought made your ears warm, but after everything you and he had already shared… it didn’t spiral the way it might have once.
Just a faint, private smile, quickly dismissed.
You stepped into the water.
The warmth embraced you immediately, sinking into muscle and bone, loosening knots you hadn’t even been aware of holding. You waded deeper, water climbing your thighs, your hips, until you could sink down and let it carry you.
Taco continued his lazy circuit, the great bulk of him creating a slow current that rocked you gently where you leaned back against the stone.
You closed your eyes.
The ache in your body softened from sharp to dull.
The pounding in your head eased into something manageable.
Steam curled around you, dampening sound, blurring the edges of the world until it felt like there was nothing beyond this chamber—nothing but warmth, breath, and the quiet slosh of water.
For a while, it was perfect.
Nothing but you and the warm water.
………….
Until you opened your eyes.
And saw it.
A ball.
Gleaming.
Perfectly round.
Floating near your elbow.
You stared at it.
Slowly shifted your gaze to the left.
Another.
And another.
Your shoulders sagged.
“…Really?”
You turned your head to look at Taco.
The Mirukai, little shit that he was, chose that exact moment to sink lower into the water, shell dipping until only the frilled edge of his head and his eyes remained visible above the surface. He blinked at you, entirely unrepentant.
You huffed and reached out, fingers closing around one of the spheres.
It was warm from the water, smooth and heavy in your palm—a soft pink pearl, catching the light in opalescent swirls.
Pretty.
Valuable.
Useful.
But at this very moment….Inconvenient.
You set it back into the water with a resigned sigh and sank lower yourself, letting the warmth lap up around your shoulders.
“I’ll deal with you later,” you muttered to no one in particular.
Taco warbled quietly, bubbles rising around his head as if in agreement—or amusement.
You leaned your head back against the stone, eyes closing once more, and let yourself drift.
The future could wait.
For now, there was only the water, the steam, and the quiet companionship of an ancient, ridiculous creature who watched over you like a living reef—pearls and all.
One Soak Later
You stayed in the water longer than you meant to.
Long enough for the steam to thin. Long enough for the ache in your shoulders to dull into something distant and manageable. Long enough for your thoughts to slow from sharp-edged worries into a gentle, drifting current that felt almost like peace.
Eventually, though, practicality tapped you on the shoulder.
With a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself upright, water cascading off your skin in warm rivulets. The air felt cooler immediately, goosebumps rising along your arms as steam curled away from you.
“MAMA!”
You startled just in time to see a blur of dark curls and uncoordinated limbs skid to a stop near the edge of the chamber.
“Soup ready!” Lila announced proudly, chest puffed out like she’d personally cooked the entire thing herself.
You laughed, the sound easy and unguarded. “Is it now?”
She nodded hard enough that you worried for her neck. “Azzy make it. Smell good. Bery good.”
“Mm,” you hummed, reaching for your folded clothes. “Then I’d better not keep him waiting.”
“Come!” she chirped, already turning on her heel.
“Hey—Lila—” you started, but she was already gone, little feet pattering away down the corridor.
You shook your head fondly and dressed quickly, not bothering to fully dry off.
Damp fabric clung coolly to your skin, but you didn’t care. You paused only once more—kneeling at the edge of the pool and reaching into the water.
Your fingers closed around a pearl.
This one was a soft, milky white with faint blue veining, heavy and smooth in your palm. You eyed Taco, who had resurfaced just enough to peer at you with one golden eye.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered. “This is rent, you little bastard .”
He warbled softly, bubbles slipping free around his snout.
You pocketed the pearl and headed back into the main chamber.
The heart of the Nest was warm and alive with familiar comfort.
Azraq sat near the central fire, coils tucked neatly beneath him, one arm resting on his coils as he stirred a pot suspended over the flames. The scent hit you instantly—rich broth, herbs, something savory and grounding that made your stomach tighten in anticipation.
Lila had already sat beside him, sitting cross-legged, humming tunelessly to herself.
Azraq looked up as you approached.
There it was—that look.
The one that softened his eyes and eased the lines of his posture the moment he saw you.
Relief.
Contentment.
Something deeper and quieter that made your chest warm in response.
“My heart,” he greeted, voice low and pleased.
You dropped down beside him with a tired but genuine smile. “Smells good.”
“But of course, for you nothing less” he said teasingly.
You rolled your eyes at that.
He handed you a bowl, careful of the heat, and a simple spoon carved from smooth wood. The broth inside shimmered faintly in the firelight, steam rising in fragrant curls.
You lifted it, inhaled—and had to stop yourself from groaning.
“Oh, stars.”
Azraq’s mouth curved. “It has just finished. Give it a few moments.”
You nodded and set it aside, leaning back on your hands instead.
As you began to wait, you fished the pearl from your pocket and held it up between your fingers.
“More pearls,” you said dryly. “To add to the pile when we leave tomorrow.”
He blinked once—then laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated pleasantly through the space.
“So it would seem,” he said, accepting it and setting it aside with the others already collected from when Taco had his many “accidents”.
“I swear with how much Taco poops we have enough to last us years,” you muttered.
Lila gasped. “Taco make shiny balls again?”
“Yes,” you sighed. “Yes, he did.”
She clapped. “Good Taco!”
You snorted, shaking your head.
Azraq chuckled and finally settled beside you properly, coils shifting to rest against your back in a familiar, grounding way.
You leaned into the warmth without thinking, letting yourself be held by presence if not arms.
Finally the soup was cool enough to where you ate in a companionable quiet.
The soup was everything you’d needed—rich without being heavy, salted just right, herbs warming your throat and stomach. Each spoonful seemed to pull you back into your body, anchoring you firmly in the here and now.
Lila slurped enthusiastically, missing her mouth more often than not.
“Careful,” you murmured, dabbing at her chin with your thumb.
“Hot,” she announced solemnly.
“Yes,” Azraq agreed gravely. “Hot.”
She beamed, clearly proud of the observation.
As the fire crackled and the Nest filled with the quiet sounds of eating, something in you finally unclenched.
No drums. No crowds. No expectations pressing in from all sides.
Just this.
A warm meal.
A child safe and laughing.
A naga whose presence had somehow woven itself into the spaces you hadn’t even known were empty.
You rested your head back against Azraq’s arm and closed your eyes briefly.
The fire crackled low and steady, a constant, grounding rhythm.
The scent of herbs and broth still lingered in the air, mingling with the mineral warmth of stone and the faint salt that always clung to him.
Beneath you, his coils shifted—slow, deliberate—and then tightened.
Not constricting.
Holding.
Azraq sank lower behind you, broad torso curving around your back as his arms came forward to wrap loosely over your middle.
His chin brushed your hair.
His body heat, banked through the night by proximity and sitting around the fire, soaked into you.
It was different from human warmth.
Deeper.
Steadier.
Like leaning against sun-warmed rock that would not cool for hours.
You made a soft, pleased sound without meaning to.
He felt it.
You knew he did.
His chest rumbled faintly behind you.
Lila, blissfully unaware of the subtle emotional currents threading between you and Azraq, continued slurping her soup with determined enthusiasm.
“Mm!” she declared loudly. “Good soup, Azzy!”
Azraq smiled faintly. “I am honored, little one.”
She beamed and returned to her bowl, which was currently tilted at a dangerous angle.
And then—
A sound.
A slow, heavy scraping shuffle.
You opened your eyes.
A familiar bulky shape wedged itself through with the sort of patient stubbornness that only Taco possessed.
The Mirukai’s coral-spined shell scraped gently against stone as he maneuvered inward. His long neck swayed as he moved, golden eyes blinking slowly, frilled head fanning once as if announcing his presence.
He looked, as always, like a drifting fortress that had decided domestic life suited him.
You exhaled through your nose. “Of course.”
Taco adjusted himself with a final heavy shift of flippers and then—without ceremony—lowered his long neck down beside Lila.
She gasped in delight.
“Taco!” she chirped. “You hungry too?”
The Mirukai let out a pleased warble, deep and vibrating, and before you could protest, his beak-like mouth dipped directly into her bowl.
You stared.
Lila squealed with delight rather than offense.
“I Shares!” she declared proudly.
Azraq’s coils tightened faintly around you in silent amusement.
Taco lifted his head, broth dripping briefly from the edges of his mouth before he swallowed. His golden eye blinked at you, slow and ancient.
You narrowed yours at him.
He warbled again.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered. “You’re lucky I like you.”
He angled his head, utterly unrepentant.
Lila leaned closer to him, small hand patting the smooth scally neck of the shelled creature. “Good Taco,” she whispered solemnly.
Azraq chuckled quietly.
You leaned your head back against him again and turned your face slightly to look up at him from beneath your lashes.
Deciding to ignore the messy scene you move on to more important topics.
“Anyone else awake?” you asked.
His gaze shifted toward the corridor briefly, thoughtful. “Not likely,” he replied after a moment.
“Many indulged deeply last night. They will remain within their nests… and their mates… until at least midday. Some, perhaps, until tomorrow.”
You snorted and shook your head at how clingy naga could be.
Nonetheless what Azraq said brought you to think.
Tomorrow.
The word landed differently now.
You shifted slightly in his arms and asked, “Everything’s ready?”
His expression sobered, though not heavily. “Yes. Supplies gathered. Offerings prepared. The waters and sky should be clear and those who will be leaving have gathered all they need and are ready to depart.”
You nodded slowly.
“So how hard,” you asked after a moment, “do you think it will be… for the males to leave their mates?”
You weren’t looking at him when you asked it.
Your gaze had drifted to Lila, who was now attempting to scoop soup back into her bowl from Taco’s mouth with surprising determination.
Azraq didn’t answer immediately.
You felt his eyes on you.
Warm.
Knowing.
Then, quietly, he said, “As difficult for us… as it will be to leave our hatchling.”
Your breath caught before you could stop it.
You turned your head slightly.
He was not looking at Lila now.
He was looking at you.
Golden-amber eyes gleaming with something older than the moment.
Older than the Nest.
Older than the fourth Moon.
Instinct.
You swallowed.
“I’m surprised,” you murmured, voice softer now, “that she doesn’t remember we’re leaving.”
You shake your head remembering the silent treatment and her tears of being mad that she wouldn't be allowed to go.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“She will,” he said gently.
And you didn’t want to imagine it.
Didn’t want to picture Lila’s face crumpling.
Her small hands reaching.
Her little voice asking where you and Azraq were.
Your chest tightened at the thought.
But you forced yourself to breathe.
Nyri would be there.
Shy, but steady, patient Nyri.
Soft-voiced and nurturing.
He would hold Lila. Rock her. Distract her.
Tell her stories of corals and hidden seas.
You exhaled slowly, leaning further into Azraq, letting his presence steady you.
“She’ll be okay,” you said quietly. “Nyri will keep her busy.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And she will count the days.”
That earned a faint smile from you. “She can’t count past six.”
“Then she will count to six many times.”
You huffed a soft laugh despite yourself.
Azraq’s chest rumbled warmly behind you, the vibration traveling through your back where you leaned against him.
His coils were loose and comfortable around your legs, not trapping—just present, an anchor of warmth and weight.
You smiled, leaning further into him, letting your head tip back against his shoulder. For a moment you simply breathed.
The future still loomed—
But right now there was only this quiet pocket of morning.
He shifted slightly, and you felt the movement ripple through his body.
“Oh yes,” he murmured. “I nearly forgot myself.”
You frowned faintly as his coils loosened and withdrew.
The sudden absence of his warmth made you instinctively reach after him, but he was already moving, tall from gliding smoothly across the Nest.
“Forget what?” you called lazily.
He did not answer.
Instead, he slipped into the Crèche.
You narrowed your eyes.
Azraq disappearing in there with that particular tone in his voice immediately put you on alert.
Suspicion prickled.
“What are you doing?” you asked, pushing yourself upright.
There was a rustle from inside.
The soft clink of beads.
A faint scrape of something delicate being moved.
Your eyes narrowed further.
When he emerged, he was holding something behind his arms, posture far too casual to be innocent.
You crossed your arms watching him. “What are you holding, snake?”
A slow, pleased smile curved his mouth.
He stepped closer, golden-amber eyes gleaming with unmistakable satisfaction, and then he brought his hands forward.
For a heartbeat your brain did not process what you were seeing.
Then it did—and your breath left you in a sharp gasp.
It was clothing.
No—
It was so much more.
A two-piece dress unlike anything you had ever worn.
The fabric shimmered faintly like the inside of a shell, colors shifting between deep ocean blue and soft coral pink when the light touched it.
The top curved elegantly around the chest and shoulders, leaving a wide open band across the stomach that was framed by delicate strands of pearl and coral beads.
The skirt flowed from a fitted waist, layered in soft translucent panels that mimicked waves, each edge trimmed in fine silver thread.
And draped over his other arm was a headdress.
Not the towering reef-crown like you had helped him create—
But unmistakably its counterpart.
A graceful circlet of woven coral branches shaped into smooth arcs, threaded with tiny pearls and accented with slender sea-bird feathers that fanned gently backward.
Intricate without being overwhelming.
Fierce and beautiful in equal measure.
Your heart stumbled.
You were on your feet before you realized you had moved, crossing the space between you in two quick steps.
“When did—how did—” The words tangled hopelessly in your throat.
You stared at the attire, hands hovering like you were afraid to touch it. “Azraq…”
He watched your reaction with open satisfaction, his smile softening into something warmer. “Many of the women assisted me,” he said. “It was… a cooperative effort.”
You finally reached out, fingertips brushing the fabric.
It was impossibly smooth.
Cool and light and crafted with a care that made your chest ache.
If what you had worn the night before had been art, this was a masterpiece.
You looked up at him, wonder plain on your face. “It’s beautiful, Azraq.”
His answering hiss was quiet and pleased, chest expanding slightly with pride. He leaned down, closing the space between you.
You already knew what he wanted; your hand slid up to his shoulder as you rose onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth.
The kiss was warm and brief, but it carried a thousand unsaid things—gratitude, affection, the quiet awe of being seen so clearly.
When you pulled back, he followed, nuzzling into the curve of your neck and shoulder.
His breath ghosted warm against your skin.
You smirked, unable to resist. “It’s still a glorified reef with feathers.”
His reaction was immediate.
He nipped your neck—not with fangs, just lips and teeth—but he made sure it stung enough to draw a startled laugh from you. You twisted out of his arms, grinning as you rubbed the offended spot.
“Hey!”
He huffed, entirely unapologetic, eyes bright with amusement.
“You mock sacred tradition,” he said gravely.
“I mock your fashion choices,” you corrected.
Your laughter echoed lightly through the Nest as you stepped back, watching him carefully return the attire to the Creche.
His movements were slow and deliberate, placing the dress and headdress in a woven cradle high enough to be safe from certain curious little hands.
When he came back, he did not immediately speak.
He simply looked at you.
Something in his expression softened the air between you.
The teasing edge faded, replaced by a quiet intensity that made your pulse slow and steady.
“That is how you will stand beside me,” he said at last. “At the Fourth Moon.”
Not a command. Not a demand.
A promise.
You felt the weight of it settle gently in your chest. Standing beside him before the gathered clans. Wearing his colors. Representing not just yourself, but something shared.
The thought was daunting.
And strangely… right.
You crossed your arms, trying—and failing—to look unaffected. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I am,” he replied simply.
Silence stretched, comfortable and full. Outside, the distant sounds of the waking island filtered in: water rushing over stone, voices faint and far away, the steady rhythm of waves.
Four days.
The number flickered in your mind, but it no longer pressed so sharply.
The anxiety that had coiled there earlier felt muted, cushioned by the warmth of this moment.
You stepped back into his space without thinking, resting your forehead briefly against his chest. His arms came around you easily, coils shifting to cradle rather than confine.
For a while neither of you spoke.
You listened to his heartbeat—slow and steady beneath your ear. Felt the rise and fall of his breath. Let it sync with your own until the tension in your shoulders eased.
“We’ll be alright,” you murmured.
His chin rested lightly atop your head. “Yes,” he said. “We will.”
The certainty in his voice was not blind optimism. It was something forged from experience and choice.
A decision to move forward together, regardless of what waited beyond the horizon.
You closed your eyes and let that certainty wrap around you.
Somewhere deeper in the Nest, Lila’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained. It cut through the quiet like sunlight through water.
You smiled.
Life continued—messy and loud and beautiful. Preparations would resume. Worries would return. The Fourth Moon would come whether you felt ready or not.
But right now, held in the steady circle of Azraq’s arms, you allowed yourself to exist in this simple truth:
You were not facing it alone.
And for the first time since the countdown had begun, that felt like enough.
So I interpreted the animal depicted in it as following
The Hazunian Tricrane
A four eyed bird with three pairs of wings.
As the symbol of the royal family, this beautiful animals are highly regarded and respected in the planet’s society, and heavily protected in the planet. Kept in the wild, but forbidden to be hunted.
