To most, the news that they've become a father - especially at the relatively young age Fool Away found himself - would be cause for elation or fear or at least some form of strong emotion. This was not the case for the kiokote; not visibly, anyway.

Though, visibly, it was hard to tell exactly what emotion "sat staring at the bark of a tree for the last half hour" was. What had started as his usual walk around his corner of the swamp with a potential detour for some useful herbs for pregnant does his mother had told him about had just... Stopped. Not an altogether unusual case for a kin known for daydreaming, but this was a new record.

@blue

[imgright]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... _blue2.png[/imgright]At some point during his staring, a moth had settled on a low hanging branch not too far above his head. It was pale, green and blue, and where it sat, the swamp was transformed: no longer the cold, dull colors of winter, but turned green and bright with a memory of springtime, with an honest flower just starting to sprout off to one side of it.

The moth didn't say anything. Of course. Because it was a moth. It just sat and watched him with strangely glowing eyes, as that flower opened and turned its face inward.

@Naberius

Fool Away was slowly pulled from his stupor by the transformation happening above him - his brows furrowed and his mouth settled into a frown some time before he managed to pry himself from his thoughts and look upward. When he did, the sight of the moth and its springtime surroundings startled him. He leapt to his feet with a small yelp, mind racing to catch up to everything going on. Had he been so lost in his thoughts that it was already spring? Winter had just settled in, how long had he been --

Snow crunched under his hoof. He blinked and looked around, lifting his hoof and pressing it against the snow again. Everything looked the same. Not including the moth, of course.

"Hello, you," He said, blinking up at it owlishly, "Not big on winter, huh?"

He knew moths couldn't talk, but he appreciated the company - and the slight change in scenery that came with it - nonetheless. Enough to forget that moths didn't usually cause snow to melt and flowers to bloom.

"Can't say I blame you. Certainly not the season to have kids in. But I mean, creatures have been doing it, like... Forever. It should turn out fine, right?"

@blue

The moth's wings shifted and fluttered, and with them seemed to come the gently brush of a spring breeze -- the scents that wouldn't actually come until the winter ice started to melt, and new growth started to creep in. Naturally, it couldn't speak back to him: couldn't reassure that winter was as fine a time as any for kin to be having offspring, even if it wasn't the wisest for less intelligent creatures, perhaps. But maybe the breeze and the reminder of spring would serve as a reassurance, that things would be okay, in the end.

@Naberius

Fool Away sighed at the scent of spring, a dreamy reminder of weather to come, and leaned against the tree.

"They will be at a good age to appreciate spring, true," He laughed a bit to himself, "And better to have them now than at this point in fall. That'd just be going from bad to worse real fast."

He hummed in thought as he rolled some snow near him into a little ball with his hoof.

"I try not to worry - just in general, y'know? My mother doesn't. She'd go off an have a clutch in the middle of a blizzard just for the fun of it. But..." He frowned, "I just wish I could do more to help. Take some of the pressure off her shoulders."

@blue

Her wings went again, a gentle shift; body swaying on the branch for a moment before she took flight, drifting loosely between the branches and around. That spring breeze followed in her wake, stirring Fool Away's fur for a moment. And then she lighted on his shoulder, a gentle touch that came with some warmth and a whif of growing things.

A flower clutched in her little claws. A thoughtful edge to her bug-eyed expression.

@Naberius

Fool Away opened his mouth to thank the moth for its time it set off from its perch, but closed it as the spring breeze tousled his fur and the moth came closer. Perhaps the idea that this moth was more than it seemed was finally settling into his mind. Maybe he didn't want to interrupt the moment, or finally grew self-conscious about talking to a moth.

Regardless, he seemed rather flustered when the moth landed on his shoulder. Its presence was a calming one - the tension he hadn't realized he had been carrying seemed to melt away - but he hadn't been expecting it in the least. Had the moth understood him?

"O-Oh! Hello...!" He said, twisting his head to look at the moth and its flower, "Is that for me?"

@blue

Of course it was for him; somehow, the moth's little buggy expression conveyed this quite clearly, with an edge of exasperation to its fuzzy little antenae. But instead of handing the flower over, she cocked her head a little to one side and shifted to tear it to pieces: destroying the beauty of the little bud to scatter loose petals across his head and shoulders, so that they caught in the mess of his mane and alighted on his cheeks. They were warmer than the cool winter air; where they landed were little spots of heat that slowly melted away into his skin.

But maybe he'd feel better for their contact. This was how Willow chose to bless, today, because the idea of taking mare form and opening her mouth was simply too exhausting.

As she lifted from her shoulder, maybe there was a hint of mischief. Besides, this made a much better story, didn't it?

@Naberius