There are relatively few things in all the planes that can be accurately predicted. Labor is definitely near the top of that list. And in their surrent situation, uprooted from home and family to be housed in the safer confines of Z'ev Zayveon's southern manor house, Niamh had concerns other than her rapidly approaching due date. Even today, on the sacred day of Samhain, she was busily assisting newly arrived refugees into their assigned quarters, and delivering the carefully prepared concoctions which would speed the healing of any wounds they had received during their flight from the city.
However, Niamh was so stubborn that she'd been working through contractions for the last two days, dismissing them as false alarms, or backache. Which was why she was standing in one of the corridors when a rush of liquid toward her feet informed her that she really should have been paying closer attention. Leaning against the wall with one hand cupped under her belly, she whimpered, looking this way and that for anyone to come
and help her.
Brishen, the mostly useless person that he was in situations that required more than drinking and story telling, had been mostly idle in his time at the manor, doing his best to help were he could and staying out of the way when he knew he should. It was during one of these idle moments that he had decided to walk the halls aimlessly, knowing Niamh was likely busily helping someone in some far off section of the large estate. He hadn't expected to turn the corner and be, more or less, face-to-face with her.
"What's wrong?" he asked as he walked down the corridor toward her, rubbing at an eye with the distinct air of someone who'd recently woken from a nap and was not exactly 'all there'.
Bent over her swollen belly, Niamh lifted her head to grimace at her husband. "M'havin' a baby, what d'ye think's wrong?" was her sarcastic reply to his innocent enquiry. She looked down at the slick floor under her feet. "Someone needs tae clean that up."
"'Course ye are," he said absently, as though they were just commenting on her pregnancy. Then he looked down and his eyes widened. The little alarm in his head was almost audible, followed by that likely expected bit of panic. They hadn't exactly discussed what to do! "Where's Lilli?" If it sounded a bit loud? It was intentional, Brishen began frantically to look this way and that for a sign of his sister, as though expecting her to pop out of one of the random doors in the hall with that handy key of hers.
Lilliana, by chance, wasn't too far away; and by 'by chance' that meant that a certain small, far from innocuous dragon had all but crashed in through the gypsy's door and had begun tearing up her room in an effort to gain her attention. Her voice, furious as fire itself, echoed from the stairs and began coming closer down the hallway.
"BURNER! I said st'op! If ya' keep yankin' on m'skirt's like tha', I'm goin' t'skin ya' scale by-Oh dear swee' goddess!"
As she rounded the corner, she suddenly forgot all about the pesky dragon. Perhaps later she'd realize that the red imp was actually trying to gain her attention, not just smash things up and spike her blood pressure. However, right now, her eyeballs were full of the situation. "Fer the love o' all tha's good, I though' I t'old ya' t' t'ake i' easy!" Well, she had to vent somewhere; it was now pointed at Niamh and her brother.
"Lilli!" Relief! During all his frantic looking around, Brishen had scooted closer to Niamh. "Hush up an' hurry! I dinnae know what tae do!"
In the midst of Lilli's scolding and Brishen's panic, Niamh let out a low groan, turning to press her forehead and palms against the wall as she breathed slow and deep through the pain of contractions rippling through her womb. As it passed, she offered both brother and sister a faintly guilty smile. "D'ye think we could mebbe take this somewhere a wee bit more private?" she asked.
"Aye, aye, Arg-ack!" Panic was something the witch herself was feeling a good deal of at the moment; enough so that she missed the feel of Zayveon's presence completely; something she normally felt as instant as the strike of a match. "Oh, oh.. Room. Room. Ah!" Grateful beyond words that she never quite took that precious gold key off from around her neck, Lilliana fisted the small piece and motioned frantically towards the nearest door; a good four feet away, to be exact.
That innocuous little dragonkin had sped off to fetch his master, and so it was that Z'ev Zayveon rounded the corner to witness the confined panic that was yet to spread. "Is it that time already?"
From further down the hall, a head or two from one of the many that'd come to 'go to ground' in the draconian's home in the deep south had poked out. One was more noticeable than the other, why? Because it was a brilliant shade of violet.
Hearing Zayveon, a wave of calm hit Lilli like the welcome cool of a breeze. "Oh goddess, yes, i's t'ime... Z'ev, can' ya' help carry her? Brishen, help me ge' some ho' wat'er an' towels an' the like?" Her hand was already on the door, and the key in its hole.
Never would Niamh have imagined in a thousand years that she would be the calmest person at the initiation of the birth of her first child. She groped for Brishen's hand, holding on tightly, and moved with Lilli's ushering toward the door indicated, relying on sheer bloody-mindedness to get her there and through before the next contraction hit. Z'ev's appearance was a balm in itself, and Niamh chanced a grin toward the draconian before she groaned again, breath hissing through her teeth as she tensed against pain.
However, Niamh was so stubborn that she'd been working through contractions for the last two days, dismissing them as false alarms, or backache. Which was why she was standing in one of the corridors when a rush of liquid toward her feet informed her that she really should have been paying closer attention. Leaning against the wall with one hand cupped under her belly, she whimpered, looking this way and that for anyone to come
and help her.
Brishen, the mostly useless person that he was in situations that required more than drinking and story telling, had been mostly idle in his time at the manor, doing his best to help were he could and staying out of the way when he knew he should. It was during one of these idle moments that he had decided to walk the halls aimlessly, knowing Niamh was likely busily helping someone in some far off section of the large estate. He hadn't expected to turn the corner and be, more or less, face-to-face with her.
"What's wrong?" he asked as he walked down the corridor toward her, rubbing at an eye with the distinct air of someone who'd recently woken from a nap and was not exactly 'all there'.
Bent over her swollen belly, Niamh lifted her head to grimace at her husband. "M'havin' a baby, what d'ye think's wrong?" was her sarcastic reply to his innocent enquiry. She looked down at the slick floor under her feet. "Someone needs tae clean that up."
"'Course ye are," he said absently, as though they were just commenting on her pregnancy. Then he looked down and his eyes widened. The little alarm in his head was almost audible, followed by that likely expected bit of panic. They hadn't exactly discussed what to do! "Where's Lilli?" If it sounded a bit loud? It was intentional, Brishen began frantically to look this way and that for a sign of his sister, as though expecting her to pop out of one of the random doors in the hall with that handy key of hers.
Lilliana, by chance, wasn't too far away; and by 'by chance' that meant that a certain small, far from innocuous dragon had all but crashed in through the gypsy's door and had begun tearing up her room in an effort to gain her attention. Her voice, furious as fire itself, echoed from the stairs and began coming closer down the hallway.
"BURNER! I said st'op! If ya' keep yankin' on m'skirt's like tha', I'm goin' t'skin ya' scale by-Oh dear swee' goddess!"
As she rounded the corner, she suddenly forgot all about the pesky dragon. Perhaps later she'd realize that the red imp was actually trying to gain her attention, not just smash things up and spike her blood pressure. However, right now, her eyeballs were full of the situation. "Fer the love o' all tha's good, I though' I t'old ya' t' t'ake i' easy!" Well, she had to vent somewhere; it was now pointed at Niamh and her brother.
"Lilli!" Relief! During all his frantic looking around, Brishen had scooted closer to Niamh. "Hush up an' hurry! I dinnae know what tae do!"
In the midst of Lilli's scolding and Brishen's panic, Niamh let out a low groan, turning to press her forehead and palms against the wall as she breathed slow and deep through the pain of contractions rippling through her womb. As it passed, she offered both brother and sister a faintly guilty smile. "D'ye think we could mebbe take this somewhere a wee bit more private?" she asked.
"Aye, aye, Arg-ack!" Panic was something the witch herself was feeling a good deal of at the moment; enough so that she missed the feel of Zayveon's presence completely; something she normally felt as instant as the strike of a match. "Oh, oh.. Room. Room. Ah!" Grateful beyond words that she never quite took that precious gold key off from around her neck, Lilliana fisted the small piece and motioned frantically towards the nearest door; a good four feet away, to be exact.
That innocuous little dragonkin had sped off to fetch his master, and so it was that Z'ev Zayveon rounded the corner to witness the confined panic that was yet to spread. "Is it that time already?"
From further down the hall, a head or two from one of the many that'd come to 'go to ground' in the draconian's home in the deep south had poked out. One was more noticeable than the other, why? Because it was a brilliant shade of violet.
Hearing Zayveon, a wave of calm hit Lilli like the welcome cool of a breeze. "Oh goddess, yes, i's t'ime... Z'ev, can' ya' help carry her? Brishen, help me ge' some ho' wat'er an' towels an' the like?" Her hand was already on the door, and the key in its hole.
Never would Niamh have imagined in a thousand years that she would be the calmest person at the initiation of the birth of her first child. She groped for Brishen's hand, holding on tightly, and moved with Lilli's ushering toward the door indicated, relying on sheer bloody-mindedness to get her there and through before the next contraction hit. Z'ev's appearance was a balm in itself, and Niamh chanced a grin toward the draconian before she groaned again, breath hissing through her teeth as she tensed against pain.