victormakesart | (no subject)

(no subject)

More of the Sanir's eggs have been hatching since Victor started meddling, hooking them up with calcium supplements and dark leafy greens, and this hatching ceremony is particularly productive, in part because Victor's hatching an egg as well. Metaphorically.

She's burning herbs with the rest of the prospective parents, singing the birthing song, fretting a bit over the health of her spawn (and the other children of the community). She spends so much time here that the past batch of hatchlings all know her by name, and the oldest of elders hum greetings to her.

They're all painted in the room, with plant paste, with clay, and she has feathers woven into her hair because she has no feathers of her own.

It's stifling in the hut, with the eggs surrounded by warm rocks and cloths, and a long shape under a sheet, about the size of a child.

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Even if not all of the eggs hatch, it's pretty rewarding to see the ones that do, and he's pretty proud of her for getting this whole thing going, given the state of things before. Even if it does mean occasionally having to put feathers in his hair to fit in, it's for solidarity's sake.

It's a long, long while before the first hatchling pecks and tumbles its way out of its egg, much to the delight of the adult Sanir. The baby is gathered up into a soft cloth, and quiet falls as he's sung his first song, by his parents.

Not long after that, another, and a third.

For the ones that don't hatch after a long pause but still have life-signs, there's a delicate hammer, but they want to give everyone a chance, first. It's only for the very weak.

He looks at her now, and nods, silently encouraging her to go ahead. She won't be stealing anyone's thunder now. Even though the kid isn't exactly an egg.

The society wouldn't consider it thunder stealing anyway, but Victor's nothing if not respectful. She pushes a button to transfer Jude's files (it's a one-time-use button), and nods to Cole. She doesn't know how long this is going to take.

In a way, it's in sync with the hatchings going on, because it's not clear how long those are going to take either. He reaches over and gives her hand a squeeze, just for a moment, long enough to hopefully lend some support before he goes to try to comfort one of the parents whose eggs aren't showing signs of life.

She gives his hand a big squeeze, swallows hard and adds her voice back to the song. She rubs at her painted nose. Somehow, she thought it would be immediate. It never occurred to her that there would be waiting.

Too bad he doesn't have a progress bar, Cole thinks to himself. He knows that she does badly with waiting.

She looks over to, for lack of a better word, the children's pen, and sees that Anya and Athena are having a great time playing clapping games with the other kids, imitating the sounds of their singing, too.

She presses the button again, in case she made a mistake the first time.

"Give it time," he suggests, quietly, under the hum of the songs.

She gives him a light kiss on the cheek and nods her head. "I'm trying."

One couple is singing right to their eggs, then listening, singing, listening, encouraging their clutch to hatch. They have four eggs, two of which are wobbling, two of which they're pondering the little hammer to help them out.

"I know. You're doing great."

Trying to be sneaky, she pushes the button one more time.

A new hatchling 'eeee's as his parents cup them in their palms. Singing in a language Vic is only just beginning to understand.

He puts his hand over hers, silently telling her not to worry, and to stop pushing the button because it won't help.

She pushes it one more time and then stops. She's a person of minimal self-control.

Then -- is she imagining it? Then, the sheet begins to shift a little.

No need for the little hammer here, thank goodness, because that wouldn't help either. He holds her hand, waiting to see what happens. He really hopes she did everything right, if only because he's spent so long assuring her that she hasn't.

The blanket is definitely moving, around the mouth and nose, it's like there's someone breathing in there, and she holds his hand so tightly that if she had any actual muscle it might hurt a little.

And, symbolically cracking out of his egg, Jude pulls the sheet back and scans the room, face breaking into an easy smile, recognition when he sees his dad and Uncle Cole. "Susurrus," he says. "I spent, like, all of Thursday thinking about what my first word should be, and I decided on susurrus."

His hand presses to his mouth, still sitting there, draped in that sheet. Feeling his lips move. "I'm talking. Oh my stars and garters (why did I say that that's so... not cool)."

He's a pale boy, like his father. Big brown eyes, a big nose that rather suits his face. And he looks thrilled. "Dad dad dad do you have a mirror?"

Cole relaxes slightly, because the kid seems all right, and definitely seems human. He nudges Victor slightly. "I can get your bag if you have one in there."

"Gosh, I don't, I don't carry mirrors. I should've thought of that," she says, fretfully, and Jude runs his hands over his face, stretches his fingers out in front of him, wiggling them, watching them wiggle. It's like the Doctor when he's regenerating, except more. This is his first experience being tangible.

"Dude, this rocks!" He gets up, all stumbly, all arms and lanky legs, and Vic stands, hobbles over to touch his shoulder. "Woah, slow down, buster," Vic says.

"You just got your legs. Take it slow and easy." Cole isn't sure if Jude has any kind of instinctual responses, like how to walk, or whether that got left out of his programming. Either way, it's like watching a newborn foal try to stand.

It's programmed in, but he's so entranced in the new sensation that he's improvising. Vic wraps an arm around his shoulders, though he's almost as tall as she is, and leads him down to their little spot of the hut.

"But this is so cool. Dad, dad, okay, so, like, we're going to have cake, right?"

"Of course. It's your birthday. And a Tuesday."

Cole follows, trying not to hang back too much, although this is Victor's kid and not really his as such. "Of all the food in the world to be your first, and you choose cake. Good choice."

"He's his father's son," Victor says, proudly, ruffling his hair.

"Heyyyy, quit it. You're embarrassing me."

"I knew it. Five minutes in and I'd already be embarrassing him."

"You're going to spoil him rotten, though." Not that he doesn't approve or anything. He's seen how she is with the girls.

"Oh, no question."

Jude is all flushed, thrilled, smiling so big, so happy to be alive. He can't sit still, also a hallmark of being Vic's kid. "Do we have to stay here the whole time?" He wants to run around and eat things!

Now it's Vic's turn to blush. "Yeah. C'mon, these're my people."

"Some of them, anyway."