Post by Avu on Sept 28, 2009 19:52:11 GMT -5
Some aspects of being a mother were not as fabulous as people considered it. There were no constant adorable antics from the baby, no immediately knowing what she was supposed to do when, and certainly nobody to tell her accurately what she could expect for Riaren. The baby was premature, but his growth was rapid physically and his mental growth even more so – surprisingly so, though he didn’t babble much. Riaren just – mimicked motions, echoed smiles and laughs. No babbling or baby preliminaries to talking – was it too soon for that? Meira had wanted to hunt down Asharra to ask her, but the Healer worked night shifts and most of the time, she was too exhausted to do anything in the night other than sleep – and even with that, it was a restless sleep, constantly waking up during the night to make sure Riaren was okay. Which he always was, but she still couldn’t help waking up, something that bothered Jingth very much mostly because the hatchling could do nothing about it.
For the moment, however, young mother and baby were both content, which made Jingth happy by default; no matter how vain or egocentric the hatchling seemed to be (enslaving dragons as she did), her world rotated around LoveHers, and any small unhappiness was magnified by the gold. The hatchling was plowed out in the middle of the dragon half of the Infirmary, sprawled comfortably in a huge patch on sunlight, eyes half-closed and her slender body completely still save for an occasional twitch of her tail to dissuade a bothersome insect from landing on her. Her world was perfect, as far as she was concerned, and it showed in the lazy swirling of turquoise in her eye, predominantly a sleepy green but tinged with the blue famous for being an expression of happiness. She had five lovely slaves (so she called them to herself), the most wonderful hatchling ever to be Shelled, her belly was full, her hide was oiled, Hers was happy, and she was beautiful, was she not? Yes, yes; Jingth was quite sure she was. Indeed, the only flaw in her world was that when she returned to the Weyrling Barracks, she would have to see Weith at the ‘ledge beside hers. But that was such a petty discomfort, wasn’t it? She was perfectly happy right now.
It could be said without hesitation that Meira wasn’t as comfortable as Jingth was – that she was on her feet and moving around ensured that – but she certainly didn’t look any worse for it. One arm supported the baby, Riaren leaning against her left shoulder, green eyes closed and one hand clutching a handful of his mother’s hair, leaving her right arm open to complete chores. And it was a chore; much harder to work with a baby in one arm than Meira had expected, but she didn’t want to put Riaren down, either; she liked feeling his weight and warmth. Technically, she could have taken maternity leave from the Infirmary; between Riaren and Jingth, Meira expected it would have been allowed, but she liked the Infirmary and anyway, the assignments she received were primarily the simplest ones to allow for Riaren. She’d only just started bringing him in on her shifts, since the plague had finally gone almost completely away. The last of the sick had recovered or died, and no more sicknesses were coming in; it was safe to bring him. Or safer than it had been, anyway.
“ – and that’s ten jars; that’s what was needed, wasn’t it?” The question was asked aloud, though nobody (that Meira was aware of) was around to hear it, the goldweyrling shifting Riaren slightly as she set the tenth jar of numbweed on the table, pushing it towards the other nine. “How do I – shells…” Her nose crinkled slightly before Meira looked down at Riaren, crinkling her nose at the dozing baby. It was much nicer, she’d decided, with him out of her belly and into the world. Still exhausting, but nicer. But now…now what? How was she supposed to carry those, exactly? She couldn’t carry all ten, even in a box, with one hand available, as she’d planned; apparently she’d forgotten to factor that in. Oops. “What do I do with you, hmm?” she inquired of Riaren, whose eyelids didn’t even flutter; he was very much asleep, thank you very much, and certainly did not appreciate being woken up just because his mother spoke. No no; sleeping!
You could, Jingth suggested helpfully, Carry them one by one, but that would take too long. Or you could ask someone else to carry it for you. I, personally, like the latter option much more; you should not /have/ to do chores or work when you have a hatchling as young as Riaren is and I am sure nobody would mind helping. They are quite nice, generally, the Healers.
“But – but then it wouldn’t be my chores!”
For the moment, however, young mother and baby were both content, which made Jingth happy by default; no matter how vain or egocentric the hatchling seemed to be (enslaving dragons as she did), her world rotated around LoveHers, and any small unhappiness was magnified by the gold. The hatchling was plowed out in the middle of the dragon half of the Infirmary, sprawled comfortably in a huge patch on sunlight, eyes half-closed and her slender body completely still save for an occasional twitch of her tail to dissuade a bothersome insect from landing on her. Her world was perfect, as far as she was concerned, and it showed in the lazy swirling of turquoise in her eye, predominantly a sleepy green but tinged with the blue famous for being an expression of happiness. She had five lovely slaves (so she called them to herself), the most wonderful hatchling ever to be Shelled, her belly was full, her hide was oiled, Hers was happy, and she was beautiful, was she not? Yes, yes; Jingth was quite sure she was. Indeed, the only flaw in her world was that when she returned to the Weyrling Barracks, she would have to see Weith at the ‘ledge beside hers. But that was such a petty discomfort, wasn’t it? She was perfectly happy right now.
It could be said without hesitation that Meira wasn’t as comfortable as Jingth was – that she was on her feet and moving around ensured that – but she certainly didn’t look any worse for it. One arm supported the baby, Riaren leaning against her left shoulder, green eyes closed and one hand clutching a handful of his mother’s hair, leaving her right arm open to complete chores. And it was a chore; much harder to work with a baby in one arm than Meira had expected, but she didn’t want to put Riaren down, either; she liked feeling his weight and warmth. Technically, she could have taken maternity leave from the Infirmary; between Riaren and Jingth, Meira expected it would have been allowed, but she liked the Infirmary and anyway, the assignments she received were primarily the simplest ones to allow for Riaren. She’d only just started bringing him in on her shifts, since the plague had finally gone almost completely away. The last of the sick had recovered or died, and no more sicknesses were coming in; it was safe to bring him. Or safer than it had been, anyway.
“ – and that’s ten jars; that’s what was needed, wasn’t it?” The question was asked aloud, though nobody (that Meira was aware of) was around to hear it, the goldweyrling shifting Riaren slightly as she set the tenth jar of numbweed on the table, pushing it towards the other nine. “How do I – shells…” Her nose crinkled slightly before Meira looked down at Riaren, crinkling her nose at the dozing baby. It was much nicer, she’d decided, with him out of her belly and into the world. Still exhausting, but nicer. But now…now what? How was she supposed to carry those, exactly? She couldn’t carry all ten, even in a box, with one hand available, as she’d planned; apparently she’d forgotten to factor that in. Oops. “What do I do with you, hmm?” she inquired of Riaren, whose eyelids didn’t even flutter; he was very much asleep, thank you very much, and certainly did not appreciate being woken up just because his mother spoke. No no; sleeping!
You could, Jingth suggested helpfully, Carry them one by one, but that would take too long. Or you could ask someone else to carry it for you. I, personally, like the latter option much more; you should not /have/ to do chores or work when you have a hatchling as young as Riaren is and I am sure nobody would mind helping. They are quite nice, generally, the Healers.
“But – but then it wouldn’t be my chores!”
