brighter than anyone [r’wign&m’taaaa]

[Avu]

The upside: She hadn’t gotten sick.

The downside: R’wign’s death had terrified Jingth (even if she wouldn’t outright admit it) and to soothe the hatchling’s worry, which had paled her hide considerably, Meira had left the Infirmary on maternity leave once R’wign had recovered. And she missed it, the Infirmary. Definitely having nothing to do all day was boring, even if, in the Infirmary, it wasn’t really fun. Weyrling Lessons just didn’t really cut it, since they didn’t take up much time at all and she could only fuss over Jingth so much, with the gold growing exponentially and it was hard to climb all over the hatchling and play with her with her stomach so big. Awkward, that was – in her spare time (which she had a lot of), Meira had taken to just…curling up next to Jingth, trying not to get frustrated. Which proved very difficult as time wore on, given that she was half-expecting to get sick all the time – and regardless of how hard she tried not to think about it, since it was a source of great agitation for Jingth, it always came to mind and tied her stomach into knots; so many people had gotten sick and died…the Weyrleader had died from it.

Another upside: Before she’d gotten too sick of doing nothing, she’d ended up in the Infirmary. Not from the sickness. No; it was probably a good thing: The baby. A month early, the baby came – water broke almost exactly at midnight on the twelfth; Jingth had barely managed to push her into the Infirmary before the first contractions came. At Meira’s insistence, she hadn’t alerted either Checkoth or Behruth – namely because R’wign and M’ta should have been sleeping anyway and she didn’t want them to worry; it would just agitate her – and Jingth. Jingth had to be calmed if she did panic, as hatchling dragons were apparently prone to doing during childbirth, and she couldn’t do that if someone else was distracting her and fretting – because then why wouldn’t the gold worry? And worry, Jingth had; the delight she’d had at the idea of being the youngest queen to ever have a clutch evaporated at the first contraction, replaced by blatant upset – which made it that much more difficult to concentrate on the baby.

It didn’t seem that Jingth would actually panic, though, and she didn’t; in the end, the queen had curled up into a tight ball in a corner of the room, eyes gleaming dully and her hide washed out for the second time in as many tendays. For the duration of labor, that was where she stayed, refusing to leave the room and refusing to move and do anything other than curl up tighter and mentally try to curl herself around LoveHers. Forever, it seemed to Jingth: Twelve hours. Of course, somewhere along there (though Meira’s sense of time had blurred), both R’wign and M’ta had figured it out and dropped in; she didn’t know how long they’d stayed, exactly, or how long after they left the baby had finally come (she’d insisted between contractions that they did go; she didn’t want them there worrying all day and Jingth was much more agitated when someone else was), but in the end, the baby had come. No complications, but that was to be expected – Asharra wasn’t a MasterHealer for nothing.

The exhaustion that followed was not consciously noted, overruled by the fascination with the baby. A boy, the baby was, and after he’d finished his first meal, she’d pulled herself into a sitting position to examine him further. He was small – but that was to be expected, given that he’d been premature – and had the typical newborn qualities: Slightly wrinkled skin, curled position, pink skin – not so common was the fact that he hadn’t burst out bawling immediately (a fact which had terrified Meira until Asharra had confirmed that he was otherwise okay, and certainly wasn’t mute, since he did make noise). Even the pink of his skin was on the pale side; dark hair was almost invisible along his scalp; his lips were full and had a sober downwards turn even when he wasn’t making any noise – and his eyes were large, eyelashes prominent and darkly curling – and green. Not the typical baby blue; green – a shade of green that was unmistakably the exact shade of his father’s.

For the moment, Jingth seemed content to simply stare at him, eyes wide and whirling rapidly; her color was returning. The dragon’s head rested on the edge of the bed, right next to Meira, the weyrlingrider’s hand resting lightly on her head, the other arm curled possessively around the baby, who was wrapped and lying flat on her stomach, eyes focused on Jingth as solemnly as the queen’s were focused upon him.

“Jingth?”
I did not know that human hatchlings look like that. Will he always look like that?

She blinked before she shook her head, as slowly as possible so she wouldn’t disturb the baby. Hard to think of him as anything but that – the baby. “He’ll grow…um, could you – could you call R’wign? And M’ta…? If you’re ready…? You can look at him later. Please, lovely?”

The hatchling crooned uncertainly and backed away slowly, gaze still lingering upon the baby. Very well. Her head turned towards the door and she huffed. Checkoth, Behruth~ LoveMine says that Yours can come in now. The hatchling is still awake. It is male. Please come; it’s the best hatchling ever…I think she wants to call him Riaren…

[glamourie]

Getting rid of R’wign was a project and a half when he put his mind to it. Unfortunately, “putting his mind to it” in that particular instance meant that he didn’t plan on listening to what Meira said at all. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to; how was he supposed to function normally, exactly? With everything else that had happened over the past few months, Meira was lucky she managed to convince R’wign to leave the room… and in the end, he’d only agreed because he noticed the loophole of being able to stay two feet from the door, sitting on the floor with his knees pressed to his chest and his head occasionally peeking in the crack. Not that he could see much but the physical proximity made him feel better and Stumpy wouldn’t leave the infirmary room. He was smart enough to perch on Jingth’s back, but he wouldn’t let Meira out of his sight, and R’wign was able to receive constant flashes of images from the excited little blue… who seemed quite content to tell the world that he was about to have a hatchling. Because Meira belonged to Stumpy, of course. And R’wign was too nice to argue with the silly beast.

He was mostly well, as far as health went; he’d even been dismissed from the infirmary (literally thrown out on his ear, actually). His color was starting to get better, and R’wign had actually slept – once he let himself get into his own bed, he’d fallen asleep and stayed that way from dusk ‘til close to midday. The only remnants of the illness that he’d possessed came in the periodic headache complaints, though some of that may have had to do with the absence of Collision and Accident more than his actual ailment; whether it was or not, R’wign refused to talk about the firelizards at all, even to Checkoth. His life was slowly getting back into normal routine (or as normal as R’wign’s life went), with the exception of the infirmary (he’d taken to cleaning to keep himself amused, it was frightening even to him). R’wign was doing his best not to show any emotion. His way of doing that? Bottling everything up.

Of course, sitting outside the infirmary room that Meira was in wasn’t exactly the best way to hide how worried he was. He likely would have gone back inside, too, if not for M’ta’s presence, also lurking outside the door. (Secretly, R’wign believed M’ta liked his idea for how to indulge Meira without really indulging Meira.) He didn’t speak, instead curling up and listening, peeking around. He hadn’t spoken since figuring out where Meira was – words were… not possible. He wasn’t even sure what there was to say. Listening was more important. Listening, and answering all of Checkoth’s five hundred questions.

The current one was “When will your hatchling Impress?” which would have been adorable if his nerves weren’t fried.

He was just about to answer Checkoth’s question when the brown piped up with, Jingth says you can go inside now. It is a boy. Is it a bronze, a blue or a brown? Go check, I want to know! The instruction made R’wign blink for a second before he climbed back to his feet and actually shuffled into the room. He was followed by the swirl of firelizards that went everywhere with him (minus Stumpy; the blue firelizard was licking one of Jingth’s ridges reassuringly) and they glided about before taking various perches. Ellie swept over to fearlessly land on Meira’s shoulder and chirp inquisitively, obviously interested in the baby. Her head leaned over and she sniffed before fluting musically, low in her throat, her eyes whirling. It didn’t dawn on her that her perching on Meira might be perceived as odd. Ellie didn’t think it was at all.

R’wign gently patted Jingth’s neck as he passed her and slinked up to one side of the bed, fidgeting awkwardly before perching next to Meira. His movements almost perfectly mimicked his firelizard – uncomfortably leaning over to get a look at the baby before he crinkled his nose slightly.

“Why is he making that face?” Because obviously, Meira would know the answer to that.

Jingth-queen, are you okay? Checkoth asked; he was perching outside (and well aware that he wouldn’t be getting his answer from R’wign, more’s the pity) on the ledge. Since His was distracted, his attention went to the weyrling, and his two tails shifted back and forth anxiously. Do you want to come out here…? MeiraYours will be okay now, and R’wignmine won’t let anything happen to her, you’ll see. His tails flicked again, and then he asked nervously, Is the hatchling pretty? I want to look but I won’t fit, and R’wignmine is very distracted. Do you know if it is a bronze, brown or a blue? R’wignmine won’t tell me…

[Requiem]

It was strange, being bored and nervous at the same time. M'ta pondered the sensation idly. He claimed he was standing outside the door, his back against the wall on the other side of the opening from the healer, to make sure R'wign didn't suddenly run in and bother Meira in labor, but they both knew the truth. M'ta felt no more comfortable leaving the girl in pain and screaming than R'wign did...or at least, not much more comfortable. The thing causing her this agony wasn't his doing after all. He really, really didn't want any children (not that he knew who he'd go about having one with) after this.

One of his small throwing blades was out, twisting idly through the long, artistic fingers. He wasn't watching it, though. Instead, he stared at a point on the opposite wall with an occasional glance at R'wign. They had to look quite queer to the passing healers. The acting Weyrhealer looked like nothing more than a weyrbrat rocking in a corner, too shy to get up and too curious to leave. M'ta sighed and shifted his weight. Why did it have to take so long? And even after the baby was delivered - he heard some mewling and the screaming has stopped, so the assumption seemed accurate - they were still left out here to stew.

Behruth was, again, asleep. M'ta was absolutely convinced that the dragon was making up for all the time he'd lost. Ruth could barely be roused over the past few days. Tugging lightly at his earlobe, M'ta considered a point on the wall, the twirling of the dagger stopping for a moment. Would they really care? It was only to help his nerves... But before he could start using the cracks as target practice, Behruth stirred in his mind. Rmmm. Love wake hatchling, Behruth told His. M'ta simply blinked. What dreams was the brown having? Wait. Dragons weren't supposed to dream, were they?

Ruth nosed at Checkoth, still very much half-awake and not really interested in changing that fact. Whatsit? He yawned widely. The Jingth has laid her non-egg now? That was a bit more eloquent, yes. Catching M'ta's confusion, he huffed softly. The hatchling's awake, and Jingth's says you can go in with Checkoth's.

A little late. M'ta saw R'wign going in and figured that much out for himself, though he still thanked the brown silently. He padded lightly across the floor in the healer's wake, sheathing the dagger, then stuffing his hands in his pockets to still them. The short brownrider hung back as the kid's father went over to investigate his son. Much as M'ta didn't usually feel strange around Meira and R'wign, he didn't really feel as if he belonged in this small family. Parents. Child. No real room for him. Still, he drifted to one side to see what he could see, eyes glancing up toward Meira and back to the baby, still half-expecting something to be wrong. It had taken an awfully long time.

[Avu]

That was – suspiciously quick. Meira blinked, almost asked, and then decided that she really didn’t need to bother either R’wign or M’ta about it; even after both brownriders had entered, she didn’t make any attempt to hide the exhaustion, though she did turn to half-smile at Ellie before shifting the baby farther up for the firelizard’s inspection, eyes falling back down to the baby’s as she sank down a little further under the blankets. She didn’t like being curled up in an Infirmary bed; it felt awkward…she couldn’t remember it feeling strange before, though; that was probably because of the baby. So alien, having him curled along her arm and side – he didn’t look like the babies that everyone imagined…and it didn’t seem immediate, the love. Was it supposed to be – ? The idea made Meira want to squirm internally; as far as she knew, mothers were supposed to love their babies – and she wasn’t quite sure if she did. Not yet. Jingth certainly didn’t, though the gold had already claimed him; Meira knew very well that Jingth didn’t love or even like everyone that she claimed: She just claimed them because she could.

Half-closed green eyes stared up at Ellie before the baby hiccupped, and his eyes actually closed for a moment. R’wign talking made his eyes open again, focusing briefly on his mother’s face before he moved, head turning to one side. Very slowly, he moved, both arms shifting at the same time, one curling inwards towards his body as the other, closet to R’wign, stretched towards the brownrider, stopping before he entirely straightened it. Another absent hiccup emerged from his throat, and the baby opened his mouth in a blatant imitation of R’wign before closing it again, squinting up at the brownrider before he tried to see M’ta – his head turned, but to see M’ta would require actually turning his body, and clearly that was something a newborn baby, especially one half-asleep, was just not up to.

“Why is he – is he?” Meira blinked before she looked down at the baby, before she looked back up at R’wign, and then at M’ta, tilting her head slightly in a silent invitation to come closer once she’d caught his eye before she looked back down at the baby, whose head had come to rest on her side, eyes almost closed. “I – didn’t see – um, he’s sleepy?” Was she supposed to know how to decode baby-faces and cries? The panic and the fear about being a mother, a feeling that had died down previously, returned; would she be a horrible mother because she couldn’t – couldn’t immediately know what was wrong? The baby didn’t seem like one to scream or wail a lot, given that he hadn’t upon his birth, but that only made her even more terrified; how would she know anything was wrong if he didn’t cry loud enough to wake her or attract her attention? When she spoke again, it was softly, almost uncertainly: “Do you want to – to hold him…?” That was one of the usual questions, wasn’t it?

/I/ would like to hold it, Jingth interjected hopefully, padding forward again to nudge herself right next to R’wign, head resting on the edge of the bed. A low, steady hum came from the hatchling’s throat, and from the rapid whirling of her eyes, it was clear that she was no longer frightened. It was over, it was, and Checkoth’s and Behruth’s were here and they were good. In the typical hatchling naiveté, she’d decided that, since the hatchling belonged to Hers, it couldn’t possibly be the one causing the pain – it must have been Asharra. Must have. Mean, that one was; she hadn’t deliberately made it hurt, had she? Because surely it oughtn’t to hurt so much and she was supposed to make it better. Not worse. Hrmph. She understood the concept of hatchlings and eggs and clutching just fine, she did, and Hers did feel strange, different, but it was not a bad different. The pain was the only bad.

Her purring faltered as Checkoth bespoke her, and Jingth turned her head slightly to glance out in the direction of the brown before she replied, slowly. /I/ am just fine, thank you…but I would much rather stay inside, if it’s all the same to you. I do not…want to leave LoveMine, you see. I know Yours won’t let her get hurt and I’m sure Ruth’s won’t either, but I like to be able to see her. Her tail swished slowly from side to side, eyes focusing again on the hatchling. Such a funny hatchling. Not at all like an egg, except for an egg-shaped head, and it looked very fragile. But she answered, to Checkoth’s question, without a pause, It’s the best hatchling on Pern. I don’t know if it’s pretty or not because I haven’t seen any other hatchlings, but it’s the best. I don’t know the color, though. I…it does not look blue, brown, /or/ bronze…Mine says it is a male, but it has green eyes. Like Yours. Do human browns have green eyes? Oh…but Ruth’s doesn’t, does he…?

[glamourie]

Ellie’s wings fluttered in obvious confusion as the baby hiccupped, and she cooed down to him, as though inquiring as to the meaning of that noise. On Meira’s shoulder, she shuffled her wings, and then leaned forward as far as she could without falling over, putting her face down close enough to get a very good look at the small child. Another musical flute escaped her as her eyes whirled blue and green shades, and then she turned to nudge Meira’s jaw with her head. A very nice hatchling, it was, but why was there only one? That didn’t make very much sense as Meira was surely capable of clutching much more? Oh, she knew humans didn’t always have as big of clutches as firelizards or dragons (which was altogether odd, since humans were bigger than she was), but Ras’s had two, and Meira was much better than Ras’s, because Zesa was better than Ras. So why did she only have one when Ras’s and Ophelie’s had two? Hers was much better than Ophelie’s. It didn’t make very much sense. Was it because Ophelie’s was a bronze and Hers was a brown? Yes, that must have been it. But their hatchling was prettier, by far. She’d seen Ras’s and Ophelie’s babies and they were cute enough but she liked this one much, much more. Ellie chirruped approvingly.

Amused by his little queen’s antics, R’wign silently prodded all of his other mindmates to settle down. The firelizards landed and went quiet, though Grouch came to settle on R’wign’s shoulder and stare at the baby incredulously; he did not see what the fuss was about the little red thing. So Stumpy’s stolen-person had clutched, big deal. It was just a clutch of one at that. His was getting entirely too worked up about the creature. It wasn’t even a proper human, it had funny colored skin. Grouch ruffled his wings and looked at R’wign, his eyes whirling his disapproval, and the healer rolled his eye before poking the blue in the belly. Little grumpy flit.

Some of R’wign’s self-confidence was shaken when the baby turned to look at him and he visibly froze, his own gaze snared on the child’s face. Green eyes. His eyes. The one feature he’d hoped that the baby would not get from him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice echoed not his own, “I like green eyes, they’re my favorite. Kinda like the set I got earlier. Dark, just like yours – tell me, boy, you got a sister?” His stomach twisted into an unpleasant knot. That shouldn’t have been his first thought but – dread. Dread washed over the back of his mind and it was followed by guilt and anxiety, along with curiosity – had his eyes ever been that pretty? He didn’t think so; somehow the baby’s were prettier than his, by far. Too pretty. R’wign tilted his head to the side and bit back the frown threatening to melt over his face. He almost missed Meira’s words, but her question made him look up and he flinched.

“Hold…?” He looked down at… Riaren? His son? So weird to think that he was going to be a father. No, not going to be, was. What would Religna have thought of him? He’d never know. He blinked twice, to force back the urge to wallow at thoughts of his sister, and glanced nervously at M’ta. “Are you sure I won’t, um… break him…? He’s so tiny…” He looked fragile. Babies were fragile. Being presented with a being so totally helpless and dependent upon him was terrifying; R’wign didn’t want to make a mistake and ruin the baby’s life in his ignorance. Almost as an afterthought, he added softly (so quietly, in fact, that one would have to strain to hear him), “He has my eyes.” Maybe fate would be kinder to the baby. He didn’t like that line of thought very much, but it was hard to stop. “He – he looks so fragile. I don’t – with my luck I’d drop him or something.” Stupid, stupid – he was terrified out of his mind by a baby. That was a new one for the record books… “I – I could try…?”

Jingth’s proximity made R’wign turn to look at her, and he patted the end of her nose lightly before turning back to Meira. On the gold’s back, Stumpy squealed and climbed up onto her head, flopping over. His eyes whirled and he chirped to Meira in compliments, before looking down at the young queen. He’d decided she was his. His dragon. Yes, yes.

Outside, Checkoth visibly deflated. He didn’t mean to offend her – and he was convinced that he had. See, this was why he didn’t talk to the queen, she was scary. His head ducked and he didn’t reply to her words. Her question just made him whine; he didn’t know. His had green eyes so they could, obviously, couldn’t they? He didn’t know much about human hatchlings, they were so confusing. Nervously, he twitched his two tails, ducking his head behind Behruth. I… do not know. R’wignmine has green eyes. He believes that human babies just look like their parents. That was probably not very helpful. Ruthmine… do you know what color eyes Yours has? It seemed an obvious way to find out, since he had no idea; he never looked at ShortyRuth’s close enough to see his eye color. He just looked at him and saw a little person. Was the hatchling little too? He wanted to see…

R’wign turned to look at Jingth; he could sense Checkoth’s confusion, and it seemed easier to just tell her himself. “Most baby humans have blue eyes,” he said with a slight crinkle of his nose. “He’s got the same color as me. It’s rare, but it does happen. Eye color doesn’t really distinguish what color dragon is Impressed though. M’ta has dark brown eyes, but so does Ka’rys, and he’s a bronzerider, and Savitri’s are green like mine, only lighter, but you know what color Meira’s are, so… and K’lir’s are yellow-gold, but my sister Religna had green eyes, and they were both greenriders. Eye color doesn’t really have anything to do with it at all, but it is interesting that his aren’t blue like most babies…”

[Requiem]

M'ta's nervousness was rapidly diminishing, mostly because R'wign and Meira seemed even more out of their element than he was, if that was even possible. The teenager had - an unfortunate truth, this - been around infants since he was no more than a child himself. No matter how hungry the den, it was hard to just leave a babe exposed...leave it to die. If someone was willing to be responsible for it they'd all adopt the child into the den. It fostered loyalty, too, if the infant lived through enough winters to become useful. Four or five.

Catching Meira's unspoken invitation, he moved to R'wign's elbow, still a little behind so as not to crowd her or the child. His weyrmate's comment had M'ta's gaze flicking over to him, a brief frown passing over his face and then vanishing. He didn't know the circumstances behind the missing eye, but it hadn't been slashed. It had been removed, and the scarring was so minimal (if you ignored the fact that there was an empty socket there) that he could only imagine R'wign had been motionless at the time. Thus it was deliberate. Why M'ta couldn't fathom, but he'd guess that had something to do with the strange emotions behind that one phrase of his friend's.

The goldweyrling amused him, Jingth did, as she joined them. He almost rolled his eyes when R'wign began talking. Diarrhea of the mouth...was the healer really that nervous about this whole affair? Bending, he cocked his head in Meira's direction. "May I?" It only stood to reason that M'ta would interact with the child nearly as much as his parents, simply because he was living with the father - at least for now. The brownrider didn't really wait for permission. Meira had more or less given that when she invited him over, or so he reasoned in his mind.

He gathered the child gently into his arms, adjusting the babe into the crook of his elbow before brushing a finger along one tiny hand. "I've never actually held one quite this...new." Or small. It was easy to see why someone might be nervous, given how frail and light Riaren seemed when he held him. Another for M'ta to protect, though he didn't consciously think that... "Come. You want to meet your daddy, don't you? He's being silly. We all know he'd never hurt you," the brownrider murmured to the new life in pleasant tones.

Glancing up at R'wign, M'ta smiled and raised a brow. "Well?" He offered Riaren. Maybe R'wign would feel more comfortable now that M'ta had held him and nothing terrible had happened? Worth a shot.

What an odd question. Not being privy to the conversation between Jingth and Checkoth, his head snaked around to regard the hiding Checkoth curiously. I say they're black, but he says that's just because they're really, really dark brown. Why? He didn't know why the color of his mindmate's eyes were all that important. Ah, lovely Jingth shiny, it is sad that we can not join you to see the hatchling. Do you think Yours will bring him out to show when she is not so...tired? From screaming and ouches, but he didn't add that. It didn't seem polite.

[Avu]

Meira blinked. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, and R’wign’s reaction to the – offer? – made her even more confused. Break – break the baby? Dropping her gaze to look at him, she was completely at a loss. She hadn’t thought about it before, how fragile the baby looked and probably was, because she hadn’t been moving, actually carrying him; she’d just been…acting as a kind of bed for him. Besides, examining and checking him over carefully to make sure he’d all ten fingers and toes and whatnot had distracted her completely. Breakable? Her free hand rose to touch the baby’s cheek softly, uncertainly, but she didn’t speak – she didn’t know what to say. Those green eyes were still focused on R’wign, half-closed, and she turned her head sideways to look at Ellie in a rather belated response to the firelizard’s nudge, as if seeking help from the firelizard, though she didn’t really think any would be forthcoming. But – but he said he’d try, R’wign had, and that was…okay? She didn’t think that the brownrider would drop their baby; he was sitting, wouldn’t be moving around, so…

She pulled herself carefully into a position that was more sitting than lying down before wrapping both arms around the baby to pull him away from her body for R’wign to take. M’ta’s question made her glance over at the other brownrider, startled; he hadn’t been saying anything before, but she made no protest to handing the baby – Riaren; she had to remember he had a name now, since it had become second nature to think of him as the baby previously – to him. M’ta certainly seemed more confident about the baby than R’wign was – than she was. Her eyes still followed Riaren, though, before flickering towards R’wign anxiously. He wouldn’t always be uncomfortable with the idea of holding the baby, would he? – of Riaren having his eyes? Both hands folded in her lap, gaze back to M’ta and the baby. For a moment, she was silent, watching the brownrider, before commenting softly, the words obviously for R’wign, though her eyes didn’t leave Riaren and M’ta, “I don’t – you won’t drop him and he doesn’t – he won’t…break…”

Riaren certainly didn’t seem to protest being lifted up and away; he didn’t squirm as his head turned to focus instead on M’ta, eyes opening to stare solemnly at the brownrider. No sound escaped him; the baby was completely silent. As M’ta brushed his finger along Riaren’s hand, though, the baby closed his fingers instinctively, clinging, though he certainly wasn’t strong enough to hold on. His eyes blinked, and the baby yawned: His gaze never wavered from M’ta’s face.

Jingth was watching Riaren as intently as the baby was M’ta. Her clutch-hatchling, that one was. She’d claimed it. The idea of someone dropping him agitated the queen, but she wouldn’t do anything about it lest she startle M’ta into dropping him. Then it’d be her fault – she’d just watch for now, very carefully, and if they did drop her hatchling, she’d…stop it. Much to Jingth’s frustration, there was no real plan she could think of. She crooned absently at the touch on her muzzle, before the queen moved, sprawling onto the ground right in front of both M’ta and R’wign. There. She was much softer than the floor, she was, and Jingth wouldn’t mind having a hatchling dropped on her. It was a very small hatchling and didn’t weigh too much, according to Hers and to the badHealerone. Still, her head was tilted back, eyes whirling rapidly as she stared up at Riaren. Even as she answered Checkoth, her gaze didn’t waver. No blinking. No movement. I suppose that would make sense…

Likewise, only a light croon and a flip of her tail indicated she was paying attention to R’wign when he spoke. Her head tilted slightly, eyes moving to make up for the shift, before she crooned again and then questioned of Meira, MeiraLoveMine, how you tell what color a human is, please, since Checkoth’s says eye color does not matter. Not the Impression color, the actual /color/. The only response she received was a surprised wave of confusion; Jingth could sense her Rider’s gaze falling onto her, before Meira leaned forward slightly, the confusion clearly written across her face as she looked down at Jingth. The gold didn’t break eye contact from looking at Riaren, though, and Meira just shook her head silently, too tired to try to defy what she assumed was draconic logic – that everyone was some color; you just had to know how to figure out which. Not a satisfactory answer for the hatchling, but apparently Hers really didn’t know: There was no point in pressing further. She’d ask everyone – surely someone would know and could explain. Like – Behruth! The brown’s bespeaking her made Jingth croon softly before the gold replied, I am sure she will if we ask later, yes. Ruth, do you know how to find out what color a hatchling is? A human one?

[glamourie]

He had… a foot in mouth problem. It wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t. Riaren looked – looked precious, perfect. That was why he was scared. So little, he was, and so very fragile. One mistake could ruin the baby’s life. One mistake. That was a lot of responsibility to put on one person’s head. It felt like too much. The first thing that came to his mind was that he wasn’t ready. Responsible, R’wign? Really? He was practically the pillar of immaturity and yet – yet he would have to shape up, wouldn’t he, if he was going to be a father? He didn’t even know where to start. The whole idea of parenthood frightened him – he hadn’t really considered the idea of being a parent before Meira, and even while she was pregnant it never fully set in. He’d thought that it had, but looking at Riaren proved how wrong he was. He almost felt nauseous from the near paralyzing fear. Just a baby, but he could inspire so many – so many different rampant thoughts, every insecurity that he’d ever had bubbling to the surface, and R’wign was, yes, petrified. What if he made a mistake and… left the baby somewhere? Or forgot to feed him? Would he ever understand what each look meant, and what if he didn’t? What if Riaren hated him? Sometimes children did that, didn’t they? He’d thought he hated his father for a long time – what if Riaren hated him? He didn’t want to be hated…

His gaze remained snared on Riaren, captured most efficiently, and he frowned. However, M’ta’s words drew his attention, if not his gaze, and he listened to the quiet request. Meira’s reassurance made him smile, nervous but genuine, and he nodded his head slowly. Maybe – maybe he wouldn’t. He’d held newborns before. He remembered holding Calerin, and Ka’rys had almost forced Keravi onto him once, but that all paled in comparison to Riaren. He was perfect. Flawless. Beautiful. And so very fragile. R’wign slowly lifted his head to look at M’ta and he tried to swallow the fear welling up inside; he wasn’t being silly… was he? Was he? Parenthood didn’t come with a handbook, as far as he knew, but he could really use one. Anything would have been better than going into the deep part of the river without a boat.

He held out his arms and forced back the urge to shake. His gaze dropped down to Riaren as the baby was placed in his grasp and he bit his bottom lip hard; his eye remained unblinking as he fixed the newborn with an almost nervous look. Odds were, he wouldn’t have been able to summon up the courage to take Riaren if M’ta hadn’t done it first; R’wign trusted Meira unfailingly, she was sure to be able to understand the baby’s every need because she was Meira, but him? He just… wasn’t too great with babies. If M’ta could do it, surely he could? The logic worked, at least enough for him to let the small weight – barely qualified as that, really – settle in his arms and he pulled himself up onto the bed with his legs underneath his body. It was awkward, perching there, but more comfortable than letting his legs dangle freely. R’wign leaned his head down and mentally repeated to himself that the baby was not going to dissolve in his arms into liquid; he wasn’t squeezing him or anything, he was fine, see, see? He’d be just fine. And Riaren wouldn’t ever experience the bad things that he or Meira had to deal with because they wouldn’t let him. They just wouldn’t.

“Hi Riaren.” It sounded so awkward, saying the baby’s name, but actually verbalizing it made him… more real, somehow. “Checkoth wants to know what color you are. I don’t think there’s a dragon color for what you are, though.” He glanced up at Meira, then M’ta, before crinkling his nose down at the baby. “But just to be on the safe side, since you’re a boy, we’ll call you a brown – since Checkoth and Behruth are browns, and Uncle M’ta looks pretty brown too. Okay? Plus bronzeriders are icky and should be beaten with sticks.”

R’wignmine, don’t tell the hatchling to beat people with sticks. That’s bad! But I agree, he can be a brown, because he’s much too cute to be a bronze, Checkoth exuberantly informed the entire group, his fear temporarily abated. He actually sprung to his feet and pranced around the weyrledge, obviously happy. I like that there is another brown. We need more of them, we do. Browns are the best, because we are the best. If the baby was a Meiwign – Checkoth was convinced a baby girl would have to be named Meiwign, – then it would be a gold, but since it’s a Riaren, it’s a brown. Even the Elliegold approves. Yes yes, it’s a brown hatchling, like Hepaticath’s hatchlings are both golds. Obviously pleased with himself, Checkoth crooned happily.

To emphasize the dragon’s point, Ellie sang pleasantly to Riaren, flying over to R’wign’s shoulder in the process. She leaned down and fluted to Riaren before pushing her head against R’wign’s. Such a cute hatchling. He was hers now, yes yes. A good little brown baby.

[Requiem]

Behruth found the question quite a queer one and, as always, he nudged ShortyHis with it. He didn't think human hatchlings were colors. Other than pink and wrinkly. Ummm. Mine says human hatchlings aren't like dragon hatchlings. They don't really have a color. Dragons and whers - and sometimes flutterbyes - give them color. That's why if we go, they are so sad. They didn't know they didn't have color until we gave it to them, and losing color again is very...not good. Behruth found the explanation intriguing himself, and nudged at His, who was more occupied with the baby than the question. Is that true, ShortyMine? It makes me sad for all the ones without color. It is. I was dark and colorless without you, Ruth. But if we must call Riaren some color, brown is as good as any. But I thought he had no color... We'll just lend him some of ours until he gets color of his own. This satisfied the brown well enough, even as Checkoth began to go on excitedly.

He crooned to his clutchbrother, faintly amused. There would be an awful lot of browns and golds, then, and not many other colors, and even though the shiny golds and the browns were wonderful, he'd miss all the other colors, he would. But then, maybe Checkoth didn't know about the no color thing. He was far too excited for Behruth to do anything that would change that, though, so he merely nuzzled closer.

"I look brown now, do I?" M'ta questioned, a brow having risen as he settled onto the cot next to Meira, watching R'wign with Riaren. He brushed her arm lightly with his fingers, smiling down at her for a moment. See...R'wign was taking to it just fine. They'd all forget their nervousness in a few days, he was sure. "Then I suppose that makes you pink." Rather lame sort of comeback, but he was more interested in the child and the fact that the delivery was over. Meira looked exhausted, though.

"Maybe we should just let them sleep?" he suggested tentatively, glancing down at her and over at R'wign. He didn't know anything about giving birth, but she looked tired.

[Avu]

Operation Transfer Baby: Complete.

Any problems? Nope. Meira’s gaze was fixed on Riaren, the weyrlingrider propping herself up on her elbows to pull herself into a position that was a little closer to being actually seated as opposed to lying down, chin tilted slightly upwards, in order to see Riaren’s face. The baby…fascinated her; she didn’t want to let him out of her sight. Possessive, protective – both, yes; but love…it’d be gradual, maybe? That thought flitted across her mind and she knew it had come from Jingth, though the gold hatchling offered no other consolations or thoughts. Amusing, how solely her attention was focused on the baby…concerned? That her ‘belongings’ would be dropped, likely as not, Meira noted with a detached kind of amusement; her own attention was completely absorbed by Riaren as well, though she couldn’t really say she was actively thinking anything; she was still…just staring at him, not quite able to believe that he was real, was there, to be held and touched. One hand brushed along her abdomen unconsciously; the previously distended region felt…so strange.

Riaren certainly had no qualms about being transferred from person to person; the baby squirmed only slightly as he was lowered into R’wign’s arms, and then he fell motionless, staring up solemnly at his father; one tiny hand curled awkwardly around one of R’wign’s fingers. He blinked slowly at the beginning of words, and then opened his mouth. No words; only a soft gurgle – a sound followed by another blink and then a yawn. His eyes lidded, and his grasp tightened momentarily before his eyes actually closed. The baby’s entire body relaxed, trustingly, and a breath left his body before he squirmed closer to R’wign’s chest and then…fell asleep, as it were, still clutching his father’s finger.

Only the touch on her arm made Meira look away from Riaren; she turned to look at M’ta, almost startled, before she smiled wearily up at the brownrider; everything was…right. Not entirely, but close to – Riaren had been born; he was perfect; there had been no complications (seeing as the soreness and pain didn’t count); and he and R’wign seemed to get along fine. Because, really, a sleepy baby could definitely repel some people…? She wasn’t quite sure why she’d been so agitated on that count, but…regardless, she had been. The baby – “I don’t think Riaren needs you to leave before he sleeps,” she noted softly, nodding at Riaren, who was fast asleep, oblivious to the world at large. How long did babies sleep? She hadn’t the slightest idea, but she was sure that between herself and Jingth – and Stumpy if the blue decided to stick around – she’d know when Riaren did. Or, in short order, she would know; babies could get quite noisy, if she remembered correctly. Which, she wasn’t sure if she did; she was too exhausted to count on anything that passed through her mind.

Jingth crooned quietly from her perch on the ground; it was tempting to tell Checkoth’s that he could beat Weith’s with sticks if he’d like, but this wasn’t the time and LoveHers wouldn’t like that very much. But regardless, she was happy with the idea of Riaren being a brown. Browns were nice. See: Checkoth, Behruth, and Dsoleth – and maybe Chaoth, though she hadn’t actually claimed him like she had the previous three. Before she could agree, though, Behruth’s answer threw her off, and the gold actually looked away from Riaren to look from Hers to the doorway, eyes whirling in confusion for a moment. But – but…she couldn’t comprehend the idea of Hers not being a gold, but didn’t that mean she hadn’t been, at one point? When she’d had the bluesadwherthing? Well. She was gold now…Oh…so he hasn’t got a color? The gold slid to her feet and then tilted her head up to touch her muzzle very, very carefully against the baby’s hand, before she hummed quietly. I think we should call him a brown. Until he finds His, the hatchling decided after a half-pause. But of course he would Impress a brown. Because browns were smart, and they’d see that the brownhatchling was best, too. Yes?

[glamourie]

“Not pink,” R’wign countered weakly; his heart clearly was not in those words, though. His focus was primarily on the small form in his arms, and for all appearances, he’d completely forgotten that Meira and M’ta were there. His mind kept coming back to how tiny the baby was. Yes, he knew how small babies started out but Riaren seemed exceptionally so, and it wasn’t just because the child was premature – it had to be more, even though his brain was just disconnecting what else it could be. He had trouble imagining that he was ever so small and fragile, so helpless. Logic said that he was but logic wasn’t really helping him wrap his mind around the prospect. The baby was so – so – small. And it was hard to say who he took after in terms of features because he looked… like a baby. The eyes were the only clear indicator (since his hair was barely there at all). Would Riaren look like him? Or like Meira? A combination of both? What did he want? He’d told Meira he hoped the baby looked like her more than him and part of him did – the idea of Riaren taking after him when he thought he was repulsive was not exactly thrilling. But… some part of him wanted the baby to look like him too. Some part of him wanted that very, very much.

His gaze snared on the baby as he … made a noise? What did that noise mean? Thousands of little mental warning bells went off and he glanced at Meira, but – her reaction to his first question made him sway away from inquiring as to what that little noise meant. Maybe it was just acknowledgment of being spoken to. Or approval of being dubbed a brown? It didn’t sound like disapproval, at least. Babies were very good at making disapproval known as far as he knew (and he was pretty sure that screaming was an inherent trait, not something learned). This one was quiet. His baby wasn’t screaming. Part of him wanted to bounce around in arrogant glee at that. His baby wasn’t a screamer, he was quiet, small, cute… perfect. It was stupid; it wasn’t as though he really did much in creating the little guy, so he didn’t get that right but – but …

Oh. Oh, he was um… holding on to his finger. Well, he didn’t need that finger anyway, R’wign decided with a slight tilt of his head. The instinctive response was to wiggle his finger slightly. Not that it did much good, mind, though he could have easily gotten free; it was… cute. Definitely cute. He didn’t need that finger anyway. His head cocked to the side and he watched the baby, totally ignoring Meira and M’ta’s presence for the moment. He seemed so innocent, so trusting, curling up in his arm the way he was, and R’wign couldn’t help but let the curious look go across his face. Even as the baby’s eyes fell closed, he didn’t look away, though M’ta’s words reached him and inspired a slight hint of agitation. He’d just taken him and now he was supposed to let him go? Well which way was it? Was he holding the baby or not holding the baby?

“Did you want him back…?” he asked softly – whispered, really. The words almost implied that he thought the baby would wake up. He didn’t know. How light of sleepers were babies? “He’s sort of claimed my finger…” He didn’t want to let the baby go yet. If Meira was insistent, he would – he wasn’t going to fight her on it – but… he’d just started to hold him… “I wonder how long he’ll stay asleep…” And they were going to have to work out a schedule of some kind after all, since Meira wasn’t staying in his and M’ta’s weyr anymore. Which meant that they’d need a second set of baby supplies most likely, just so that Meira could have some in her weyr, and he could have some in his? Hrn, he wasn’t entirely sure when the baby would be staying with him though. Or how much he’d be able to handle on his own. He had the holding part down, at least!

Behruth’s nuzzling made Checkoth squirm happily and his eyes whirled. For a brief second, he borrowed R’wign’s gaze – dizzying though it was – and he crooned to himself. The hatchling was so cute. He wanted more of them, but like R’wign, he was puzzled: he couldn’t imagine His ever being so little…

Glancing down at Jingth, R’wign tilted his head and he looked from baby to baby in amusement. “I remember when you were just born, too. You sat on me as well,” he said to Jingth, voice barely audible. He didn’t want to risk waking the baby up. For some reason, he found it easier to talk to the little gold than he did to talk to her rider in that moment; part of him felt like apologizing to Meira, but it wouldn’t have been sincere, not with little Riaren there. He wasn’t sorry, not really; though it bothered him to imagine Meira in pain, it was hard to regret that they had such a cute little… little baby. He didn’t know if he’d ever be comfortable with the child, but he did think he was cute. That was good enough for now, wasn’t it? “But I don’t think you claimed my finger…”

[Requiem]

She wasn't screaming anymore (something M'ta found hard to bear, even knowing the source and there was nothing that he could really do). R'wign's insecurities with the child were more or less gone. He seemed enthralled...entirely captivated, really. Riaren was sleeping and clearly content with his parents. Meira was even smiling, albeit wearily. What, really, was there left for him to do here? Not much of anything. Because, in the end, Riaren was theirs, and M'ta was more like a guard dog or a...favored uncle or something. He didn't really fit in this scene. Let the father bond with his child, the mother rest and find security in the knowledge that the father did like the boy. Would do right by him.

M'ta rose from the edge of the cot, glancing toward the door, and shrugged a shoulder mildly. There was that same touch of self-consciousness in his face, though, that permeated his thoughts. The brownrider didn't bother to hide much from either of these two, which was perhaps why his expression was so open right now. "I think...there are probably things I should be doing. Um. Yeah." He brushed the hair from his face, an almost nervous gesture. "Don't feel you have to hurry back, R'wign."

With that, the small rider beat a quick retreat out the door. Behruth noticed, but made no comment. Jingth's and Checkoth's had a clutch. If Jingth and Checkoth ever clutched together, he would want to see, but being on the sands with them would feel weird, also, so he didn't think the reaction of His to be strange at all. Browns and golds are the best, Behruth agreed with Jingth cheerily, nuzzling his weyrmate as he said so. Oh yes. Definitely the best.

[Avu]

“Um.” For a moment, Meira hesitated. On one hand, she really did want to sleep – and she couldn’t out of courtesy if R’wign was there – but she didn’t want to pull Riaren away from R’wign so soon after he’d met him. She squirmed into a completely-sitting position, still staring at Riaren instead of either R’wign or M’ta or even Jingth, before she shrugged one shoulder awkwardly; she could wait a few more minutes, surely? “It’s okay – if you want to hold him, you can…” He seemed to want to, anyway, but Meira was still anxious; she wanted to ask to make sure. That just seemed…strange, though, so she refrained from doing so, still staring at Riaren almost as intently as R’wign. Looking at Riaren made her sleepiness fade considerably; the wonder that he was real still enthralled her, kept her awake as long as she was looking at him. Even when he was just curled up beside her, it was easier to think of him as just imagination, but actually seeing him made all the difference. She wasn’t sure why, but it did – and she didn’t want Riaren to – to fade away, even if it wasn’t really happening.

M’ta’s abruptly getting up made her tear her gaze away, though, and Meira blinked at the brownrider, momentarily confused before she caught sight of his expression and then nodded silently, smiling softly. Jingth’s head came around to look curiously after M’ta, but the gold made no comment save for the softest of all purrs – R’wign’s whispering had an effect on her, it did; it made her think that if she actually crooned, she’d wake up the hatchling and that was not wanted, apparently. So quietly did she purr that likely it was inaudible to all but herself, though the queen didn’t seem to care, for the next second her muzzle was anchored to the edge of the bed again, eyes staring up at Riaren again. Meira’s gaze slid back to the baby, but not before flickering up at R’wign uncertainly, letting the brownrider address her gold hatchling – though the memory of that Impression brought an expression that was almost amusement to her face, she bowed her head slightly to hide the smile.

Tell Checkoth’s I remember, Jingth told Meira helpfully. He poked me. Not a very good couch, I’m afraid. And I don’t think I claimed his finger; I claimed /him/. And if R’wign had anything against being claimed? Pfft. Of course he wouldn’t. The gold thought nothing odd of her words, and Meira bit her lip, smiling before she translated in a whisper, as afraid as the other two to wake the baby – or break the spell the sleeping baby had cast. “She says she remembers…she remembers that you poked her, too. And she um…apparently claimed you, despite your being a bad couch…?” Crinkling her nose slightly at the last part, Meira glanced at R’wign before looking at Jingth and reaching out to run her fingertips down the hatchling’s neck. “Shameless…” I’m not ashamed that I claimed Checkoth’s – ? Jingth replied, and then crooned agreeably (as softly as she could manage!). The hatchling may have his finger, she added pleasantly.

Meira shot an amused look at the hatchling before she looked back at R’wign and then bowed her head to hide the embarrassed flush before she whispered – “You don’t mind if I – sleep, do you? ‘M really…tired…” Yes, she’d given up on etiquette. Much as she didn’t want to – Riaren was distracting, but in the end, she’d have to wake up soon enough to feed him and she didn’t want to be so tired then as she was now. That would be unfortunate…“Jingth can keep you company…”