#baabies

       ‟ Have you given any thought to names yet? ” There had been times as of late, naturally perhaps, when her carrying a child had posed its challenges, but in this moment, sat in the garden of the Donwell Abbey estate, in the presence of her beloved husband, Emma was practically glowing. ‟ Are we to be as uninspiring as John and Isabella and name our child after you or I or one of our fathers? ”

Out here making me gush over angelic radioapple bbys <3 centaur fawns ahh <3

The Morningstar was gone, his death swallowing all the light and hope with his absence. The only glimmer left remained in Charlie, but even that bore little reassurance to the people of hell. And for Silver, it gave none. The wind had been taken from her wings, the shine of her silvery feathers dulled. The one she started to let in and bond to was stolen from Hell without second thought. The grief tore apart what little hope she had left and hollowed her soul. Hell was forever, there was no place for peace and happiness and love. To the outer edges of Pride she went. There, no one would be stolen from her again. And none could bring down her walls once more. They’d be steeled with grief and enforced with rage. Her own personal Hell, a cage of her own making. The songbirds would never sing again.