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Archiving: email [email protected] and ask nice
Code-o-rama:
*bla* - emphasis
_bla_ - italics or thought
{bla} - sound effect
[bla] - foreign language
A Singular Day
InterNutter
One: Happy Birthday
It had been the longest nine months of Raven's life. She'd been
morning-sick all day, every single day of her pregnancy. Violently
morning-sick. Except between ten AM and two PM, when she feasted and the
little creature inside merrily pummelled the living hell out of all the
soft organs it could reach. Not that it ever seemed to *stop* doing so;
it's just that the baby was simply more active whenever she ate.
Eric was over the moon, a doting husband for her every need, and an
adoring one at that. He didn't care that she had, in her humble opinion,
reached the approximate dimensions of an elephant or a whale.
The midwives were exstatic, claiming that the child was an
exhuberantly healthy boy.
Raven could care less. So far, she'd endured nine months of absolute
torture. She wanted the little bugger out of her body as soon as humanly
possible. Preferably by painless surgery. Under a general anasthetic.
But *no*... *this* was a little backwoods area in the middle of
nowhere. Surgery was considered a last resort. It mattered not that she
was the wife of the Count, lord of the realm - more pine-covered
mountainsides than Raven could ever care to spit at - and ruler of some
rather bizarre subjects.
Things like that 'just happened' in the Schwartzwald. Eric was
technically Lord of several communities, villages and species that,
right now, no-one knew existed. And the ones that *were* out in the open
were so superstitious that they made New-Agers look mundane.
So far, she'd been in 'pre-labour' for well over a fortnight. Couldn't
the son and heir VonReissig get his anatomy into gear and get *on* with
it?
The midwives joked that he liked it in the warm.
Raven wanted to kill them.
Eric humoured her and told her that if she did behead them, he'd have
to find new midwives and *she*, in turn, would be forced to answer a
whole mountain's worth of damn fool questions all over again. He was
such an adorable man. Pity he had no clue that Raven was serious.
The only thing stopping her was the threat of the general inquisition
that followed the arrival of a new midwife. And right now, with her body
aching from head to foot, a new midwife would not help her mood.
When the real labour came, at long last, she could have wept for joy.
If she weren't too busy screaming. It hurt so much, she could barely
keep her human guise.
It would simply not do for the Countess to turn into a red-haired,
blue creature that was her true shape.
They'd probably burn her as a witch.
The midwives, delightfully old-fashioned, shooed Eric from the
delivery room and gave her even older remedies that actually seemed to
work. Sort of.
At least she could make the delivery quick, subtly spreading her hips
so that the child didn't have too much trouble passing through.
But, *God*, it hurt.
She barely had time to breathe through the spasms. She barely had time
to cry.
"There's the crown," sang the chief midwife in dialect German.
"Oooh, he has dark hair like his Mama," cooed a second.
If only they knew...
"Ready? Push, push, push, push, push...."
"Breathe. Breathe."
Raven was too busy screaming, but she pushed nevertheless.
"Here he comes."
"Oh! He's blue!"
"Check for the cord!"
_Oh God..._ Raven panted between contractions. _Please don't let him
have my complexion. He's just a baby..._
She must have been weeping, because another assistant patted her
shoulder and said, "Don't worry, dear, They know what to do."
"There's no cord there," insisted the chief midwife. Raven could feel
her probing for it. "Ach! Here comes another contraction. We'll know,
soon."
"Push, push, push, push, push, push..."
Raven screamed again. Another voice joined her; the distinctive sound
of a brand-new pair of lungs using their first breath.
"*OH*!"
"God save us!"
A third one crossed herself.
"Let me see him?" Raven begged. "Let me hold my son?"
"Madam," said one. "Are you sure that you slept with your husband to
conceive this child?"
Her baby was crying.
"God's truth," said Raven. "I only slept with my beloved husband."
Best not to upset them. "Please. He's crying. He needs me."
The midwives conferred whilst their junior oversaw the passage of the
afterbirth. At last, after way too long, the presented her with a little
bundle and coached her not to be afraid. They'd baptise him, and find
out soon if he was the work of God or the Devil.
Her son was covered in a fine coat of blue fur. His hair was a deeper
colour, and stuck close to his head. He mewled a little, and opened his
eyes, staring at her in the cross-eyed confusion of newborns the world
over. Grey-blue eyes. Just like his mother, only a little darker.
"Hello, my son," she whispered. Raven risked touching him with a
fingertip. _So *soft*..._ He was like touching a cloud. But then, all
babies were that soft and smooth.
A tiny little fist escaped his swaddling. He only had two fingers and
a thumb. This was not something *she'd* bought into the equation...
Curious, Raven unwrapped him. Both hands were tridactyl. His feet,
first to kick free of the cloth, looked strangely long, and had the
third toe attached to the ankle joint.
Then a tail swept free of the swaddling, and Raven knew why these
simple peasants had crossed themselves.
Her son even had pointed ears to complete the image.
Her son looked like a demon.
Raven re-wrapped him quickly. She'd used her shapeshifting powers to
hang on to this pregnancy, despite the trouble it gave her. Did that
somehow alter him? Or was there -ha!- another 'X' in the equation?
The baby sneezed once, then started smacking his lips. He was hungry.
How - normal.
Eric somehow got past the midwife guard just as she succeeded in
getting her baby to latch on. She pretended to stroke his little head,
but she was shielding him from prying eyes.
"Well?" asked Eric. "Was he worth the trouble?"
Raven looked at her son. "Yes. He was."
That night, she took him with her and ran, abandoning love and the
life she'd dreamed about as a girl. She wouldn't abandon her son. No.
She'd keep him safe. She knew a friend, living nearby, who may be able
to help them both. Another Erik.
Erik Magnus Lensher.
Archiving: email [email protected] and ask nice
Code-o-rama:
*bla* - emphasis
_bla_ - italics or thought
{bla} - sound effect
[bla] - foreign language
A Singular Day
InterNutter
One: Happy Birthday
It had been the longest nine months of Raven's life. She'd been
morning-sick all day, every single day of her pregnancy. Violently
morning-sick. Except between ten AM and two PM, when she feasted and the
little creature inside merrily pummelled the living hell out of all the
soft organs it could reach. Not that it ever seemed to *stop* doing so;
it's just that the baby was simply more active whenever she ate.
Eric was over the moon, a doting husband for her every need, and an
adoring one at that. He didn't care that she had, in her humble opinion,
reached the approximate dimensions of an elephant or a whale.
The midwives were exstatic, claiming that the child was an
exhuberantly healthy boy.
Raven could care less. So far, she'd endured nine months of absolute
torture. She wanted the little bugger out of her body as soon as humanly
possible. Preferably by painless surgery. Under a general anasthetic.
But *no*... *this* was a little backwoods area in the middle of
nowhere. Surgery was considered a last resort. It mattered not that she
was the wife of the Count, lord of the realm - more pine-covered
mountainsides than Raven could ever care to spit at - and ruler of some
rather bizarre subjects.
Things like that 'just happened' in the Schwartzwald. Eric was
technically Lord of several communities, villages and species that,
right now, no-one knew existed. And the ones that *were* out in the open
were so superstitious that they made New-Agers look mundane.
So far, she'd been in 'pre-labour' for well over a fortnight. Couldn't
the son and heir VonReissig get his anatomy into gear and get *on* with
it?
The midwives joked that he liked it in the warm.
Raven wanted to kill them.
Eric humoured her and told her that if she did behead them, he'd have
to find new midwives and *she*, in turn, would be forced to answer a
whole mountain's worth of damn fool questions all over again. He was
such an adorable man. Pity he had no clue that Raven was serious.
The only thing stopping her was the threat of the general inquisition
that followed the arrival of a new midwife. And right now, with her body
aching from head to foot, a new midwife would not help her mood.
When the real labour came, at long last, she could have wept for joy.
If she weren't too busy screaming. It hurt so much, she could barely
keep her human guise.
It would simply not do for the Countess to turn into a red-haired,
blue creature that was her true shape.
They'd probably burn her as a witch.
The midwives, delightfully old-fashioned, shooed Eric from the
delivery room and gave her even older remedies that actually seemed to
work. Sort of.
At least she could make the delivery quick, subtly spreading her hips
so that the child didn't have too much trouble passing through.
But, *God*, it hurt.
She barely had time to breathe through the spasms. She barely had time
to cry.
"There's the crown," sang the chief midwife in dialect German.
"Oooh, he has dark hair like his Mama," cooed a second.
If only they knew...
"Ready? Push, push, push, push, push...."
"Breathe. Breathe."
Raven was too busy screaming, but she pushed nevertheless.
"Here he comes."
"Oh! He's blue!"
"Check for the cord!"
_Oh God..._ Raven panted between contractions. _Please don't let him
have my complexion. He's just a baby..._
She must have been weeping, because another assistant patted her
shoulder and said, "Don't worry, dear, They know what to do."
"There's no cord there," insisted the chief midwife. Raven could feel
her probing for it. "Ach! Here comes another contraction. We'll know,
soon."
"Push, push, push, push, push, push..."
Raven screamed again. Another voice joined her; the distinctive sound
of a brand-new pair of lungs using their first breath.
"*OH*!"
"God save us!"
A third one crossed herself.
"Let me see him?" Raven begged. "Let me hold my son?"
"Madam," said one. "Are you sure that you slept with your husband to
conceive this child?"
Her baby was crying.
"God's truth," said Raven. "I only slept with my beloved husband."
Best not to upset them. "Please. He's crying. He needs me."
The midwives conferred whilst their junior oversaw the passage of the
afterbirth. At last, after way too long, the presented her with a little
bundle and coached her not to be afraid. They'd baptise him, and find
out soon if he was the work of God or the Devil.
Her son was covered in a fine coat of blue fur. His hair was a deeper
colour, and stuck close to his head. He mewled a little, and opened his
eyes, staring at her in the cross-eyed confusion of newborns the world
over. Grey-blue eyes. Just like his mother, only a little darker.
"Hello, my son," she whispered. Raven risked touching him with a
fingertip. _So *soft*..._ He was like touching a cloud. But then, all
babies were that soft and smooth.
A tiny little fist escaped his swaddling. He only had two fingers and
a thumb. This was not something *she'd* bought into the equation...
Curious, Raven unwrapped him. Both hands were tridactyl. His feet,
first to kick free of the cloth, looked strangely long, and had the
third toe attached to the ankle joint.
Then a tail swept free of the swaddling, and Raven knew why these
simple peasants had crossed themselves.
Her son even had pointed ears to complete the image.
Her son looked like a demon.
Raven re-wrapped him quickly. She'd used her shapeshifting powers to
hang on to this pregnancy, despite the trouble it gave her. Did that
somehow alter him? Or was there -ha!- another 'X' in the equation?
The baby sneezed once, then started smacking his lips. He was hungry.
How - normal.
Eric somehow got past the midwife guard just as she succeeded in
getting her baby to latch on. She pretended to stroke his little head,
but she was shielding him from prying eyes.
"Well?" asked Eric. "Was he worth the trouble?"
Raven looked at her son. "Yes. He was."
That night, she took him with her and ran, abandoning love and the
life she'd dreamed about as a girl. She wouldn't abandon her son. No.
She'd keep him safe. She knew a friend, living nearby, who may be able
to help them both. Another Erik.
Erik Magnus Lensher.