Excited chitters and echoing barks carried through the foliage and undergrowth of the raptor paddock.
Excitement and interest was in the air with a swelling of rising energy.
There was a newcomer into their territory, however separated.
Charlie barked and trilled, golden eyes alight and snake like pupils rounded into ovals. Her tail wagged to and fro, shifting her weight upon taloned foot to taloned foot in her barely confined eagerness to meet the new stranger. Her green snout wedged itself through the bars as best she could, nares flaring as her chest expanded in deep intakes of breath. Her clawed fingers gripped the metal bars, clicking and clacking and tapping in ecstatic rhythm.
Blue pattered behind her youngest sister, golden eyes peering through thin grey slits in a squint. Her clawed hands clenched and unclenched, a confused chitter escaping her maw upon seeing the antics of the new comer. Her head cocked to the right.
Then her head cocked to the left.
Then her head warbled, as if trying to better interpret and understand what her eyes were currently seeing.
Delta stood by the Beta's side, a mild look of disinterest in her dull gaze. However, it did not stop the grey-green hued female from tilting her head in the faintest of inclines to slip a gander at her current entertainment.
She was unsure what this new comer was.
It was like them.
Yes, it looked like them.
But at the same time-it did not.
What was the the strange jawed beast with golden scales and feathers?
It looked like them.
But it did not act like them.
Did not move like them.
Did not call like them.
The new comer was a strange oddity to currently look at-and judge.
Delta was unsure if this new comer was going to be a member of her pack.
She was unsure if she would even accept the one that looked so much like them-but didn't.
She wasn't sure if her sisters would accept it.
If their alpha would accept it.
And if this strange one of their kind was accepted-It would be the pariah of the pack.
That was the one thing Delta was quite sure of.
Because it was strange, and foreign, and different.
Echo leered upon the strange one, scarred snout twisting in a grisly snarl as her jagged teeth were unveiled and on full display. Like flashing knives they glistened under a film of saliva.
Her killing claws twitched and flicked, poised and on edge as she saw the stranger's athletic muscles tensing and rippling underneath golden scales.
The noises it was making was less of complex calls-and more like the nonsensical screams of a chick.
And then the stranger did something the pack didn't expect.
It flung itself at the wall with surprising amount of grace and fluidity of a natural predator despite its previous bumbling and anxious twitching.
The concrete of the enclosure audibly cracked as reinforced talons and gutting claws punched through the cement.
Developed arms raked upward and taloned hands rend and tore at the walls, the horrid sound of nails dragging to the bone upon cold man made walls. The creature's claws left marks upon the wall as it struggled to climb-and for a second-it looked like the beast would fail.
But then it's talons found purchase, and little by little, it began to scour and skulk up the wall, intent on climbing towards the railings and walkways up above the paddock's holding.
The energy within the pack shifted as the sounds of panic rang up above.
The sounds of shoes upon metal catwalks pounded up above.
Shouts rang out.
"Grady, that thing's climbing the walls!"
"Call security! Notify an official distress call!"
A graceful feline leap, and a great weight quaked the whole length of the catwalk followed by the rapping of horrid talons upon metal.
Screams were barely heard over a harrowing roar rimmed with madness.
Rage, confusion—and the preservation of an unwavered will urged Porco onward.
Someone needed to know something!
Anything!
Someone had to know something about this place!
These things!
His family!
And he sure as shit wasn't going to let them keep him in a fucking cage like a freak!
Let them come!
Let them come with their knives and their guns!
He was a Titan, damn it!
He saw the fear in their eyes.
They saw him as a monster.
He was a monster.
But he needed help.
Someone had to know where he was!
Someone had to know why he was here!
Someone had to know why he felt so fucked up!
Someone had to know where Ikaara was!
Where Marcellina was!
He needed to find them!
He needed to find his family!
The beast cornered and loomed over a boy that looked not a day over twenty one, attempting to keep him at bay with a steel catch pole. Tears were streaming down his face, eyes white and glassy in horror, facial muscles contorting in rising trepidation and anticipation of approaching doom.
Weakly, desperately did he wave the pole as he lay upon the ground, having tripped in his haste.
The only thing louder than the boy's horrified sobs—were Galliard's own high pitched and shrill shrieks as the cold realization of dread came in.
He could not talk.
Could not communicate what he truly meant.
That he just wanted help.
And he couldn't even ask the questions he wanted to get help!
Frustration, rage, desperation and horror rose.
A taloned hand slashed forward in irritation, bending the steel pole and causing it to clatter out of the boy's hands and down into the paddock below.
A roar of simmering anger slithered from his armored maw.
The boy was still crying!
Still trembling!
Stop crying!
Stop crying!
Stop fucking crying!
The crying of a baby broke the stillness of the early morn, and Porco's eyes snapped open. His muscles tensed to rise.
The feeling of Ikaara's hand upon his shoulder stopped him, "I got her...Rest..."
Porco closed his eyes once more, head nodding down.
The crying of the baby ceased.
It was replaced by the toddling of small, naked feet awkwardly bumbling along the floor. The pattering of feet could be heard slapping upon the cold floor, and it was not long before a soft hand lightly smacked against his thigh.
"Da-dee!" Came the excited squeal of a little girl.
Ever so faintly did the corners of Galliard's lips curl up into a small smile-if however waning by fatigue, "Hey, baby..." Briefly did his eyes crack open under weighted lids, golden eyes looking upon child.
Her auburn hair was in messy and tangled locks from just getting out of bed, honeyed eyes shining with excitement. She was bouncing slightly with her ankles, little feet never once leaving the floor.
Once more, Porco's eyes became heavy, and he began to slumber off.
But what his child spoke next, made his eyes snap open, "Da-dee! I nekkee!"
The man briefly sat upright with a slight snort, head tilting to look down at his oldest.
Marcellina was, indeed, naked.
Fucking.
Wonderful.
"Ta-Daaaaa!" The child waved her stout arms up and down, pudgy belly on full display for all to witness. It was clear the child was quite proud to be naked.
Porco's brain was quite slow to process the newfound information, "...Baby...Why aren't you dressed?"
"I like nekkee!"
"...Please get dressed, Baby."
A cock of the head to the right, "Why?"
"Because Daddy said so."
A cock of the head to the left, "Why?"
"Because you'll get cold."
"Why?"
"...Marc, please get dressed."
"Why?"
"...Honey, please get dressed."
"Why?"
Because Daddy was about to lose his shit and was too tired for this bull-fucking-shit right now.
Because Daddy felt like he was gonna lose his shit and have a fucking break down right now.
"Because if you don't, Daddy will get very, very, very sad."
A shocked gasp, and the little girl's tiny hands moved to cover her mouth, "Noooo..."
"Yeeeessss...So will you please get dressed for Daddy?...Please...?" The slight crack in his voice could not be helped in his desperation.
Faster than the man thought possible, his almost three year old toddled around upon her heels, and charged away as fast as her legs could carry her, mini thunder thighs quaking, buttcheeks jigging in fury as she scurried off, "NooOooOooOooOoo-AaaahhhAAHAHHHHHHH!"
Loud shrieking from the fleeing toddler toddling off into another room, and her mother's voice carried from more distant quarters.
"Marc! Why are you screaming?"
"I nekkee!"
The distant crying of a babe.
"I can see that. Why are you naked?"
"Be-coose I nekkee!"
"Marcellina, get dressed, please."
More screaming of a tantrum throwing toddler mixed with the cries of a disgruntled baby.
It was quite clear their oldest didn't want to get dressed, and judging by the wails and sounds, Marcellina was currently rolling around on the floor.
Ikaara was currently attempting to soothe her two day old newborn-who was swaddled and being rocked in her arms. It was unsuccessful, and the babe's reddened face streaked with tears continued to cry.
The noise seemed to only be made worse by the eldest daughter currently rolling around upon the floor, little legs and arms pounding away into worn carpet.
"Shhh, shhh, baby-Marc-Stop crying, please!" The red head tried to keep her voice calm.
She truly did.
But she felt overwhelmed.
She felt so worn down.
She felt like she was going to fucking cry.
Her eyes darted from babe to child, anxiously moving to and fro, lightly shaking and rocking her youngest. Her auburn hair was held in a messy bun, strands cascading down her face and shoulders. Her eyes were haunted by shadows from lack of sleep.
She couldn't do it.
She needed help.
"Porco! Can you come here? Please? I need help..." She couldn't stop her voice from cracking and quivering.
Mommy was going to fucking cry and have a breakdown.
Mommy was a shitty Mommy.
The blonde heard the woman's plea, and rose from his seat to help. Porco was briefly halted in his quest by his middle child, inching himself around the floor by scooting on his butt. Unlike his elder sister, he was properly dressed.
"Hey, Lil' Man," Galliard smiled slightly, kneeling down, "What's up?"
The little ten month old merely sucked upon his pacifier, little arms waving. His hands then went to cover his ears, sapphire eyes wide and little sprouts of auburn-brown hair in a disheveled little mop.
"I know, Lil' Bud. I know." The man sighed, a calloused hand moving to ruffle the little mop of hair, "Daddy thinks it's too loud here, too."
Porco was about to stand up, but the motion of his child's hands reaching for him made him pause. Upon seeing his little man wanted to be held, the Warrior carefully scooped the boy in his arms.
Grunting slightly as he rose to his full height, the blonde then began to move towards the sounds of chaos.
Ikaara flicked her eyes towards the man.
Her face was flushed.
Her eyes were wet.
Ikaara looked like how he fucking felt.
She was ready to break.
Porco wasn't sure which part of him would break first: Physical part or mental part.
The babe was being colicky.
Their eldest little shit was still throwing a temper tantrum.
And then their only boy decided something.
He didn't like being near the loud, scary noises.
And then he, too, began to cry.
It was then Ikaara couldn't take it.
She was shaking and trembling from anxiety and nerves.
She looked pale and uneasy save for the flushing of her face.
She looked almost ill.
And then she, too, broke.
She broke because she didn't know what to do.
It was all too much at once.
It was all too much stimulation and chaos.
Porco couldn't help it.
He broke, too.
Tears welled with his eyes and blurred his vision.
His family!
His babies!
Lost!
Gone!
All because he couldn't!
Fucking!
Talk!
Twin rivers ran down the skeletal contour of his armored face.
Whatever Hell this was—He needed to wake from it.
It had to be a dream.
It needed to be a dream.
The pounding of thick soled boots and the familiar handling of firearms.
Slowly did Porco twist his neck to look in the direction of the sounds.
Multiple red lights dotted his hide. They wore armor and used weapons he did not recognize.
Hard, calloused golden eyes bore into many as the beast turned towards the security personnel.
They were going to use force?
Good.
He would fight them.
He would kill them.
He would—
—No.
He wouldn't act.
He needed to think.
The only reason they didn't blast his ass full of holes was because of the boy.
They could hit him.
And would killing, fighting, make getting help any easier?
…He should fight. He should kill.
But he wouldn't.
Couldn't.
Because having kids made him soft.
Made him more patient.
More…..Just more.
And he just couldn't fucking kill a kid who was crying like a babe, even if it was in the crossfire.
Fighting wasn't worth it.
Fighting wouldn't help him find answers.
It wouldn't help him find his family.
If this was a dream—and he died, and woke up—fine.
But dreams always ended.
This one would end, too, right?
And he would wake up to Ikaara bitching she had to pee but was too damn lazy to get up.
Wake up to Marc wedged between them because thunder from a storm scared her.
Yeah.
He'd wake up.
He had to.
With a twist of the body and a feline leap, the beast launched itself off the catwalk, and landed with a heavy thud into the paddock below.
A whole new panic swelled among the staff.
"Eyes sharp, rifles live, that thing's in with my raptors! Do not shoot unless target is verified!"