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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Not in the usual way at all, but... it might be the only way she can. "I made a child." Her eyes go glisteny and she has to wipe at them.

He pulls a hanky out of his pocket and hands it over. "Here you go."

She wipes her eyes with that, instead. "I'm not crying. I'm too manly to cry."

She's crying, for sure.

"Who says men don't cry sometimes?"

"I'm so tough, though," she sniffles.

"All right, have it your way. You aren't crying." He does give her forehead another kiss though.

She hugs him tightly in that warm room, that smells like strange alien spices, with the sounds of hatching and baby birdpeople, and the melodious singing of the parents, praying for a good hatch. "It's like when I made Person, but more. Person took a few days to sculpt the way I wanted, and then he just popped into life. I feel like I really made Jude."

"You've spent a really long time working on him. That's pretty natural, I think."

She brushes his hair back, fingers gentle. "You're gonna make a great parent, when you're ready to have kids of your own. I'm really proud of my family. I'm really proud of you."

"I'm not the one who built and hatched a robot kid today. You're not so shabby yourself."

She kisses his cheek, feather-soft. "I do feel really good."

"You should. You deserve it."

She threads their fingers together, squeezes his hand in a very significant we-should-have-a-date-night way.

He looks over at the kids, making sure that both of the girls are getting along all right with their semi-new brother. And that Jude is doing fine with the whole body thing.

Jude is doing awesomely, laughing as little birdlings climb up onto his shoulders, booping Athena lightly on the nose. Anya is holding tight to her sister's arm, but she's warming to him quickly.

"It's like something out of a Disney cartoon."

"Ha! But with fewer musical numbers."

"Give them time," he says, looking at the hatchlings in particular.

She gives him a very sneaky little kiss on the cheek. "Soon, there'll be choreographed numbers."

"Don't you go getting any ideas, now."

"Oh, honey, I'm not planning out costumes right now or anything like that," she says, straight-faced, eyebrows up.

"Not yet, you mean." He's wise to her ways.

"Maybe a little," she admits, giving his hand a squeeze, and hoping all of her hopes toward the soon-to-hatch.

"Just make sure you ask their parents first." He sneaks a kiss onto her cheek.

"I won't kidnap anyone, I promise." Her cheeks flush a little, and her smile grows the sort of way it does when she's just too happy to control.