(no subject)

[victormakesart]

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.

Comments

[backinthsaddle]

"Oh, yes. I'd tell you 'I told you so.'"

[victormakesart]

"You'd say, 'You can leave her in a few more days; it's so much quieter at home now.'"

[backinthsaddle]

"If only. I think trying to watch the girls by myself would be a bit much." They're a handful, but they love their daddy Victor.

[victormakesart]

She gives him quite the knowing little smirk. Touches his wrist. "You'd have help. Billy, the Doctor, Candy...."

[backinthsaddle]

"I'm not sure I'd trust the Doctor to babysit. The girls might end up halfway across time and space and get involved in some wacky adventure."

[victormakesart]

"Yeah, no adventures until they can do complex algebra. That's the rule."

[backinthsaddle]

"I do have to admit, it's a great rule of thumb."

[victormakesart]

"Yeah, it's because I'm a genius," she says, with a great Californian casualness.

[backinthsaddle]

"That you are."

[victormakesart]

"You're not so bad yourself." She gets pulled into the ceremony again, humming the birthing songs, sending good vibes to the eggs.