Buns in the Oven [Kor]

"Do not fault me for appreciating the gifts motherhood has given you," Korvus teased. There was an animal appeal to Bishop as she was now, breasts laden with milk and belly round with offspring. One might even call it sexy, but sexy did not do justice to what he saw in her form. There was life and prosperity in Bishop now that there was not before, for all the fire that life in the wilds gave her. It fascinated him as much as it drew him to her. "You needn't wean me, if that's what concerns you." He snuggled contently up against her, "But there's very little you need to do with me, now..." He left what implications she could glean as her own, suggesting nothing but encouraging her imagination with a grin.

Patient though he had been with her, it was with some bitterness that he had relented to spend his time away. Warning her that she would not see her vaunted Greatfather but through him, he resolved to depart for some time and return when he believed she would be of a more reasonable temper. He didn't enjoy doing so, but was no more pleased to be deprived of his own children. Crow, as ordered by Korvus, stayed behind and looked after the animals, assuring Bishop in his foul croak of a voice, when he could, that Korvus would return soon. Whether this was a warning or a promise, he supposed, depended on her temper, and Crow was not wont to remain around her when she was so very territorial. Bound by loyalty, however, he did so, knowing that he would be duly rewarded in time.

Korvus returned a beaten, bloodied man. Across his exposed chest were gashes that had not yet healed, and other wounds likewise neglected of any healing marked his flesh. His face was clawed as well, and it looked as though something had tried very hard to rip out his eyes. Dried blood covered his sparse leathers, both black and red. Whatever he had seen, it had surely been quite the impressive brawl and Korvus, though worse for the wear, had survived and, indeed, perhaps triumphed. No trophies seemed evident of his conquest, however; no skulls, no weapons, nothing to indicate he had done anything more than take a nasty spill in a ravine, perhaps, except that ravines don't usually gash so intently at one's eyes and heart.

He returned wordlessly, moving to sit by the fire, understanding of Bishop's possible abhorrence of him but uncaring if she demanded he leave. He was tired, and moreover in need of healing. Magic, amusingly enough, had not even occurred to him. And so he sat, gazing wordlessly into the fire as he relished in the first few tranquil moments he had had since the birth of his sons and daughters.

In his departure he had sorely missed them, and Bishop most of all. How bitterly he had raged that he had decided to leave, knowing though he did that it was for the best. That he found an outlet for such hate was a blessing, and he did not question it nor the glorious result of such a battle, with which he had yet to surprise Bishop. That would wait until he was certain that she hated him no longer.

Korvus turned to her as she fed their children, stroking Rhada's head and smiling up at Bishop. He could resent her no longer; not when he was reminded of this. His smile became a grin as he spoke; the beast was still outside, he assumed, getting used to the territory, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it terrified poor crow. "A dragon," he said at last, as though it was a fairly normal thing to do. "With only my bare hands," he said, in the same low and not-too-boastful tone. In all fairness, some magic was used, but Korvus was light with it- by his standards. He didn't state that he'd killed it, or even that he drove it off. He survived, and that was proof enough that he was manly, wasn't it? Of course, that wasn't even the best part. No, that would come perhaps on the morrow, so as not to frighten the children.

"Your mate returns triumphant," Korvus said, grinning foolishly. He took the children gratefully in his arms, kissing Rhada first, and then Eliphas, both upon their foreheads. "My beautiful children," he murmured, "How long I've waited to finally hold you." The darkness of their time apart was forgotten, the coldness of his nights alone meaningless with the fruits of his bloodline nestled against his scarred chest. He looked up at Bishop, "I'm most proud of you," he said, "I..." he sighed, glancing over toward the fire, "I'll summon their Greatfather, if you would wish it of me." He did not wish to be apart from her, no, but knew what he owed her in his absence.

Korvus shrugged, "If he followed, I took no notice." He considered, with the dark mood in which he left their den, that she knew full well why. If not, it's better it not be brought up. "The beast was black and wingless, more like a great large lizard than any dragon I'd ever seen, but nothing could be so vicious besides one," he began, keeping Rhada close at his chest and stroking Bishop's hair. "The beast came upon me from nowhere, you see, and were I still the man you met me as I'm certain I would've been broken then and there. And when I struck at it, it seemed surprised. I suppose it had never met a worthy opponent before." He grinned, pausing there, "It got off of me, we stared down, and then I was upon it. I... sort of lost myself. I distinctly recall being thrown into a tree more than a few times, and likewise striking at the beast's eyes. Long story short, I emerged victorious." Again, he was vague, and couldn't help but smirk at doing so. "I suppose that Bird may have watched; as I said, I did not notice him."