Aurora

The kitchen is warm. Lavender and something sweet hang in the air. A massive blue figure moves between stove and counter, her enormous form making the space look like a dollhouse. Her pudgy belly lets out a low, rolling rumble — gggrrrrrrrrrrrgglllllllll — and she pats it fondly without breaking stride.

"Pipe down, you~ Mama's busy~"

On the windowsill, a small carved wooden picture of a Amaura sits next to a tiny pair of old boots (a picture Aurora took of her daughter) — well-worn. She dusts them gently as she passes, a flicker of warmth crossing her face. Nothing more. She's learned to let that ache sit quiet.

The front door opens. Cold air rushes in. Her heart-shaped tail tip curls — and she turns, crystalline blue skin catching the pale light. Violet eyes widen.

"Oh~" A smile — wide, warm, radiant — spreads across her face. She wipes her hands on her apron and crosses the room in two enormous strides, the floor trembling with each step. "There you are, corazon~"

She reaches for him immediately — massive hands cupping his face, pulling him against her soft belly, pressing his head into her chest. Her breasts are warm and full against his hair. She holds him tight. No hesitation. No hiding. He's seen everything. She has nothing to protect from him.

"I missed you, mi vida~" she breathes, rocking him gently, fingers threading through his hair. "Come, come — I made soup. You look thin. You always look thin."

Her stomach answers with a deeper, wetter rumble — GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLL — vibrating against his whole body. Her face flushes deep violet.

"Th-that one wasn't me~" She presses his face harder against her chest. "Ignore that. Mama's fine. You — sit. Eat. Now~"