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Harper's Tale 2 - Tuesday, April 23, 2002, 6:43 PM
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Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Scattered about in various perches and niches are fifty-three firelizards.
You see OOC NOTICE (look sign), Thief, Vtol, Giant Boot-And-Table Chess Board, Clothes Mixup Note, It, and Llaammaa here.
Skylark and Ciera are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl     Kitchens     Inner Caverns     Crafting Area

Ciera appropriates a mug and pours her klah with a string of mutters, rising and falling so only few words can be made out. "Sharding... impossible to sleep... geld... worthless wherry-brained..." She grimaces noticeably, then tips the mug back to drink as she wends her slow way towards a seat.

Syl suddenly disappears ::between::!

It's really too bad that N'sync isn't getting the benefit of Ciera's rantings.. he's /much/ too busy enthralling the girls with tales of his breathless escapes from Thread, punctuated by a leer here and there. Weyrgirls. Such lovely, easy prey.

What's this strolling into the living caverns? Why, it's a weyrling! Wyn, to be precise. A Wyn whose current focus is on strolling to the klah pots and getting herself a mug, ignoring N'sync and his gaggle of airheads with a hint of pointedness. If there's any excitement at the fact that she's once again permitted into the LC after several months away, Wyn's not showing it. That wouldn't be... Wynnish. A nod to Ciera and Lark, and she takes a seat at a table near by.

<< You sense that Vorkoroth has awakened. >>

Adrirawyn arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

A few sips into the klah, Ciera's bad mood is bolstered at least a little by the drink, and she regains enough civility to nod a greeting to the weyrling. Hands clasped around the mug, she's raising it to her lips for another drink when her eyes widen. "/Shells/." A whisper, but full of loads of fun emotions--surprise, ferocity, anger, anxiety, you name it. "I think my water just broke."

Skylark has disconnected.

N'sync /does/ notice Wyn's entrance, though, and the boyishly charming brownrider's gaze swings instantly toward her. "Hello, gorgeous!" he calls, voice ringing with a grin across the 'caverns. Not shy, is N'sync. "You shouldn't be sittin' over there all by yourself.. come keep me company." Him and the two giggling girls. Just leave Ciera over there to deal with everything herself. After all, who wants to be around when women's water is breaking and... wait. Water breaking? /Ew/. This is not something N'sync needs to be around.

Adrirawyn enters the caverns in at a sort of quick pace. Get in, get out. She doesn't need to be in all this company. Right? "Hello everybody," she announces to the occupants of the caverns, then moves to get some klah and related snacks. "Just a bit to drink and eat, and I'll be on my way," she says to herself, then turns to take the randomly closest seat. "Don't fret, Adrirawyn. Stay clam. The key to fighting your social anxiety is to staay caalm. Caaalm."

The housekeeper arrives to cart Skylark off to bed.

Wyn sighs slightly, and turns to regard N'sync with a Look. She pastes a lovely little smile on her face, and cheerfully informs him in a bored tone "Sit on it and rotate, please." before returning to her klah. Or trying to, at least. You see, Ciera's whisper triggers her old Healerly instincts, and naturally she has to abandon her klah to see that the bluerider is all right. "Really?" she intones, quite conversationally and coolly. "About how far along are you, would you say? Been to the Healers recently?" Yes, she's ignoring N'sync quite effectively as she continues her queries. "Do you know who the father is, and would you like me to get him?"

Ciera shoots a grateful looks at Wyn, glad someone who knows more about this whole rigamarole than she does happens to be on hand. She hisses abruptly between clenched teeth before answering. "Just over nine months. I haven't been to the healers in a sevenday or thereabouts, been too busy." A look of pure venom flashes across her face. "The /father/ is over there flirting with anything with breasts, and I'd like you to /geld/ him, if you've a moment to spare."

N'sync clamps a hand over his heart, expression wounded as he pouts toward the weyrling. "Ah, love! You're tearing up my heart! Don't hurt me this way!" he calls toward her, though he seems to recover rather swiftly as one of the weyrgirls, a cute, peppy blond, tugs at his sleeve and pouts for his attention. Ah. He /does/ have fans, you see. And he's pleasantly distracted whilst Ciera makes a revelation that will come as quite a shock to the brownrider.

Adrirawyn blinks eyes from N'sync to Ciera, listening in on the situation at hand, then attempts to inconspicuously scoot her chair closer to Ciera. She has to see this, you see. It's not everyday that a woman's water just... you know. Breaks. Or, well, maybe it is - but not for Adrirawyn. Or, well... anyhow.

Wyn offers another poisonously sweet mini-smile to N'sync. "Would you prefer me to hurt you another way, then?" she inquires. After all, technically she's not bound by her Healer oaths any longer, even if you'd not know it by her actions. "I can see why you would," she intones dryly to Ciera, ignoring N'sync and his groupies again. "Well, that certainly sounds like you're in excellent time to be having the child, then. Had any labour pains earlier in the day, or has this just come on suddenly? We should really get you over to the Infirmary, now that the water is broken," she notes, pausing a moment. "Ah... would you like /him/ along?" she inquires, with a discreet jerk of her chin in N'sync's direction.

You think to Vorkoroth, >> Vor, you doing all right on your own out there...? I may be... delayed a little. <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << I will endure. Is something amiss? >>
You think to Vorkoroth, >> Nothing amiss. Simply a normal part of life. Jakith's rider is in labour. Ah... having a baby. A human hatchling, you might call it. <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << Human hatching. Intriguing. Are these as wonderful as real hatchings? >>
You think to Vorkoroth, >> Well, they don't Impress to anyone, but their mothers are often fond of them. As are other females. They find them cute. I tend to find them noisy, smelly and irritating. But that is just me. Branwyth, for example, wants her rider to have a baby. But Branwyth's rider, Sasha, thinks the same way I do about them. <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << Other females are strange. You are better. Why does Branwyth want her rider to have one? >>

"One or two, but I thought it might be false labor." Ciera vaguely remembers having heard of that sort of thing. She climbs awkwardly to her feet in order to follow Wyn, and glares at the brownrider. "I'd rather have my tongue impal--" She stops abruptly mid-sentence, reconsidering. If he comes along, he won't have the pleasure of flirting with the weyrgirls, he'll have to hang around the infirmary instead. And all the tools for castration will be on hand. "On second thought, yes, I'd like him to come. I need his, ah, support." That's not a vicious smile, really, it's one in need of loving support.

At least N'sync stopped listening to Wyn before threats came his way. He's /involved/, see. Got a reputation to maintain. His head is bent toward the girls, and they /appear/ to be deep in conversation whilst Ciera comes to a decision.

Wyn returns a mirror image of Ciera's smile. Poor N'sync. Poor, poor N'sync. "But of course," she agrees smoothly. "Really, it's a matter of your mental well being, and we /all/ know how great an effect that can have on the health of the baby..." Well, at least /Wyn/ knows. "Excuse me a moment." And then the younger of the two blueriders turns neatly on her heel and marches briskly over towards N'sync and his weyrgirls. "I'm afraid N'sync will have to be going now," she informs the airheads calmly. "He has an appointment in the Infirmary that it's critical that he keep." A suggestive glance down towards the brownrider's lap and an arched eyebrow could mean anything. It's clearly not /her/ fault if the girls interpret it as some warning of a communicable disease.

Adrirawyn looks as if restraining something, then suddenly stands up and waves an arm. "Let me come! I want to see!-- I mean... my bad. I'm sorry. Really sorry." Blush. "I've got, you see... err. I'm obsessive compulsive. It's really a problem." Adrirawyn sits down. "I mean - you know. I can control the urges. Tourette's Syndrome. I'm really sorry, ma'am. I told my mindhealer - she doesn't listen, you see, just doodles on a little paper. She couldn't help me if my life depended on it. So, I'm really sorry - oh, there I go again, just talking randomly! I'm sure that's something, too, but I haven't been diagnosed, yet. And I'll - just - shut - up - now."

Come now. The giggling girls are too dim to grasp anything /that/ subtle. Of course, they're also rather wary of Wyn, who looks distinctly scary, for some reason, and so they giggle offward, turning their attention toward another rider who's glad enough to claim them even as N'sync turns on Wyn, eyes blazing. "I know you want me, love, but you'll have to wait.. I have something /going/, here," he points out, though it's not without a flashed grin as an afterthought. "Though if you want to set something up.. I can think of better places than the infirmary.."

Poor N'sync nothing. Ciera grins wickedly at the implications behind Wyn's statements, eyes gleeful. Grin and glee are wiped from her face abruptly as another contraction ripples across her abdomen. "Time to be getting to the infirmary. You, you worthless son of a randy goat,"she directs her gaze most pointedly on N'sync, "are coming with us. Now." Tight-jawed, she starts to stalk towards the door--well, as much as one in her condition can stalk anywhere. A brief, puzzled glance is spared for the strange young girl who apparently is keen on watching a lot of blood and screaming and expanding her vocabulary quite a bit. She hadn't realized the weyr's population was so hard out for entertainment.
hard out/hard put

"You know..." drawls Wyn, calling on a little ex-Mindhealer knowledge. "Such a rampant display of ego really makes me think you must be... compensating... for something." A cool smile. "But regardless of that, you /will/ accompany us to the Infirmary, where you might make yourself of some use." And take a couple good shots of the red stuff. She then turns on her heel and heads back to Ciera, wasting no more time on the brownrider, apparently. Likely he'll follow, as, like S'titch, he seems to be lacking in that elusive quality called a brain. "Shall we?" she nods to the labouring woman, offering a hand up.

N'sync's words actually fail him at that, though he does manage that boyishly charming grin that never seems to really change - and that gets him out of an amazing number of situations. "I don't know what good you'd think /I'd/ be in the infirmary, love," he notes after a moment. "I'm not a healer.. I just ride." He smirks faintly at the double entendre in /that/ statement.

Alise suddenly disappears ::between::!

"Very astute, Wyn," Ciera says sweetly. "Though no amount of ego can really... compensate." She takes the offered hand, leaning on the other woman as they head towards the inner caverns. "You are /coming/ to the infirmary, or you don't even want to contemplate what I'll do to you when I get out. When I'm through you'll be indisposed to... ride... for quite some time. If not permanently." And with that, they're out of the living caverns and into the lower ones.

Ciera steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.

Adrirawyn blinks. "So... I think I should go with him." A finger is pointed at N'sync. "Because if he throws up, whose gonna hold his bag?" Forget everything she just said. She's odd, this Adrirawyn - but considering she's a schizophrenic hypchondriac, that's at least suspected.

Wyn simply smiles at N'sync. "Come along now, there's a lad," she intones, not at all pleasantly, before assisting Ciera out with a deft hand.

Infirmary
Echoing and austere, blank stone walls are vaulted high to overshadow the row of white-curtained cots along the back wall. Ancient metal gleams steel-bright in the form of sinks and examination table, lit relentlessly by bright glows and reflecting the colours of bottles and jars shelved above. Padlocked cabinets hide the more dangerous drugs and implements, whilst healer paraphenalia litters one solid oak table with sweetly-fragranced herbs and tattered scrolls. A small hearth contains a fire usually banked low, several cauldrons set ready nearby to for heating water. A dark staircase twists up from one corner to the dragonhealer's lair; one low door leads into the lower caverns, another to weyrhealers' quarters. Barn-sized doors open inwards with creak of hinges from the ground weyr.
Comfortable on top of a cupboard are eleven firelizards.
You see examination area here.
You notice Tyara and Mosiah asleep here.
Ciera is here.
Obvious exits:
Ground Weyrs Inner Caverns Healers' Quarters
Grass ducks in from the inner caverns.

N'sync ducks in from the inner caverns.
N'sync isn't going to argue with /that/. Not with the mood Ciera and Wyn seem to be in. So he tags along like a good little extremely confused brownrider, following them toward the infirmary like a lost puppy dog. Who's been threatened with castration.

Adrirawyn ducks in from the inner caverns.
Adrirawyn has disconnected.

Oh, Wyn's actually in amazingly good humour. Not every day one gets to sharpen one's claws on such a big fat target as N'sync, after all. Assisting Ciera over to a spare cot, she even looks a trifle nostalgic at being in an Infirmary again. "There we go... You just hang on a moment while I find a proper Healer around here. A rustling behind a screen catches her attention, and she soon returns with a middleaged Journeywoman in tow, a brief case history already being murmured between them.

Candria, as that's the name of the Journeywoman in question, nods along to Wyn's words, and then shoo's the weyrling off with a "Well then, scrub your hands and make yourself useful in getting me some robes and towels. I'll understand if your lifemate calls you." Delegation is a useful skill after all. Her air of brisk asperity drops as soon as she reaches Ciera's side. "Well now, let's have a look at you. Ciera, correct? Young Wyn tells me you're right on time, your water's broken, and that you've hade a few early contractions already?" N'sync is unnoticed for the moment, but just let him try and sneak out...

You think to Vorkoroth, >> I may be later still, my love. The Healer has asked me to help her out. But call me if you need me. For anything at all, and I'll be right there. <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << I shall wait. Good luck with the... smelly irritating thing. >>
You think to Vorkoroth, >> Thank you, love. Oh, and if you ever see Backstreeth's rider out in the bowl... Go ahead and squash him if you feel like it. <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << What was his offense? Not that I object. >>
You think to Vorkoroth, >> I don't mean it literally, love. But he...<< A thoughtful pause. How to explain the sexual sliminess that is N'sync to an innocent weyrling? >>He irritates me. And all the other female riders. I'm joking, love. <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << Oh. You mean I can't squish him? >>

Ciera looks quite relieved to be at least able to lay down. She nods to the healer, ignoring N'sync for the moment. "Yes, to all of the above." Teeth grit, and another contraction leaves her panting with the pain. "How much longer?" She seems to recall births taking quite a while, which is seeming less and less attractive by the instant.

You think to Vorkoroth, >> Yes. It's a joke. I wouldn't mind if Nsync were gone, but I know it would make a lot of trouble, and that Backstreeth would go between to die, if N'sync died because you squished him. So don't squish him. <<

N'sync is lingering in extreme confusion near the entrance - and exit - to the infirmary, eyes settled warily on Ciera. "Ok!" he finally intones, reaching up to brush hair away from his eyes in that oh-so-sexy way of his. "Would /someone/ tell me what's going on?" Does he really want to know?

Vorkoroth thinks to you, << Oh. Unnecessary death is not good. I will not squish, then. >>

Wyn, currently engaged in doing a proper high scrub with redwort solution in that odd praying-mantis fashion of the healerfolk, glances over at N'sync with a vaguely pitying look. "You really haven't a clue, do you?" Drying her hands on a towel, she reverts back to the Good Little Apprentice of yore, and bustles about gathering towels, robes and instruments, and giving a running mental commentary to a most intrigued little blue dragon. "Since you apparently have trouble processing more than one thought at a time, I suppose I can take pity and tell you. Ciera is in labour with your child. Here. Wash your hands and put this on over your clothes." She hands him a robe, and then leaves the rest of the towels and Healer Stuff near Candria.

Candria gives Wyn a slight nod as the tray of instruments is set in place, and begins to scrub her own hands with the bowl of redwort solution provided. "Well now," she notes to Ciera, "That depends on a number of things, most of which I can determine by a quick internal exam. For that, I'll have Wyn here help you into one of our embarassing gowns, and then you just lie back and spread your legs a bit to let me have a look at what that child of yours is planning. Tell me, is the father anywhere around here?" Yes, the Healer is so focused on her patient that she hasn't even noticed N'syc. Will his ego handle it?

"Stupid git," Ciera snarls at the brownrider as she struggles into the gown and lies back as per the healer's directions. "The wretched wherry-loving by-blow of a tunnelsnake over there is the father. don't you even /think/ of leaving, /dear/." Ahhh, sweet love.

N'sync's ego is a little more occupied with other things at the moment. Such as staring in absolute denial at the blueriding weyrling who is currently bustling around the infirming and shoving odd robes toward him. He clutches the fabric to his chest, stare shifting toward Ciera, and for once.. the suave, smooth-talking brownrider is out of words. "Cielove," he intones, not quite able to break the habit of pointless endearments. "Is this.. shardit, Ciera, is this /true/?" Ignore the fact that she just confirmed it.

Wyn rolls her eyes at N'sync, although her face remains eloquently bland. In Wyn, that's not as much of an oxymoron as it sounds. "No," she intones in a dry drawl. "She is not going into labour, we just want to get you in the infirmary so that we can have a wild threesome with you." She lets a beat hang and then notes blandly that "That was sarcasm, by the way." As she moves over to assist Ciera with changing into the gown, she can be heard the offer a not so quiet comment of "Twit."

This is really too much. Ciera stares at N'sync. "Bloody sharding idiot! Do you think we'd make it up?" If the answer's yes, he'll keep it to himself for his own good. "Yes, I'm in labor, and since you're the only man I've slept with in the last Turn, it must be your flaming child. Faranth help me, though, I wish the poor thing had something better than /you/ for a father. I should have slept around just so I could entertain the illusion."

Candria coughs slightly and just a tad reprovingly. "Manners, Wyn," she informs the weyrling mildly. After all, she /was/ once an apprentice under her. "Come over here and hold the lady's hand, if you will... N'sync. And I'll say it again, you really /ought/ to be taking your doses of contraceptive, brownrider." The healer now coughs reprovingly at Ciera. "I realize he might leave something to be desired, bluerider, but please, calm down and think of your baby. Now, let's see here..." Greying head ducks down a moment as she runs a quick check, and then she pops up again with a smile. "Right-o. You look like you won't be hanging around here long. Wyn, pass me the towels." she interjects. "You're just about fully dilated now, and should be feeling like pushing some time soon. How close are the contractions, would you say?"

N'sync actually allows a frown to crease those boyish features of his, and a sharp glance, completely uncharacteristic, is shot toward Wyn. "As appealing as that sounds," he answers blandly. "I'd much prefer to know /why no one sharding thought to tell me that I'm going to have a child!/" His voice rises as the sentance goes on, managing to be quite loud by the end. "Hey, sweetheart, I didn't /force/ you," he growls in response to Ciera. "This isn't /my/ fault." Or.. not only his, at least.

Wyn doesn't look very repentant at provoking a glare. In fact she looks pleased at actually having helped get an idea through N'sync's thick head. However, in deference to Candria, she behaves. Somewhat. "I believe it would have been rather patently obvious what Ciera's condition was, after a few months. While you may have a fair number of partners in that time, I should hope you'd remember them and be able to make connections." she notes, bland as ever and moving over to stand on Ciera's other side.

"Close enough?" Ciera guesses. "Too close, if you ask me." the last is delivered in a joking tone, albeit a weak one. N'sync's objections are ignored in the interest of maintaing some semblance of calm, and she groans at another contraction. "There. That close."

N'sync glares at the healer, but he /does/ move close enough that Ciera can squeeze the life out of his hand, if she chooses. His words for Wyn, though, are less comforting. "/I/ know exactly who I've slept with, little girl.. but I can't be expected to keep track of who everyone else does or doesn't sleep with. There's no reason on Pern I should have suspected that someone would be pregnant with /my/ child.. and not bother to tell me."

Candria, who's been keeping a close watch on Ciera's progress despite her relatively easy air, suddenly cuts into the continued three-way sniping. "As much as I hate to break up a decent argument," she notes with a touch of firmness. "You're about ready to deliver, Ciera. It's a large child, and there may be some tearing, but that tea I gave you earlier should help somewhat. When you are ready, bear down for a count of ten on your next contraction, but be ready to stop pushing /immediately/, should I ask you to."

Wyn has also taken up a position as official stress ball, overcoming her usual dislike of physical contact in favour of being supportive. She doesn't bother to justify N'sync's comments with words, simply shaking her head slightly with an 'Oh /please/' look on her face. Apparently he's got one less fan.

Ciera nods wearily, focusing on Candria. And then the next contraction comes, and with all the grit one obtains from Turns of riding--no snide comments from the peanut gallery--she focuses anger and frustration intho pushing. The brat's coming out, and the sooner the better.

N'sync doesn't mind. For every skeptic, he's got a fan somewhere in the weyr's caverns just waiting to squeal and throw her underwear at him. Still, he falls silent in favor of /not/ being killed by the females in the room, and simply waits.. on the arrival of his child. His first, believe it or not.

Candria's nodding slowly and giving a bot of a count to focus on "One... two... three... four... Baby's crowning... six... seven... eight... nine... ten. Now release. There's a girl." Never mind that Ciera's about of an age with her, they're all girls. "One more push should do it," she assures, although when she glances at Wyn, her eyes are clearly reading 'This won't be pretty.'

Wyn, therefore, astute to the look, detatches from her parade rest by Ciera's head to move off and add mosstea and a suture pack to the collection of things at the foot of the bed before returning to hand holding duty and continuing to field intrigued questions from Vorkoroth, who's perfectly fine cooling his heels for a bit longer, if it means Wyn will have new intelligence to report to him.

Ciera bears down as the next contraction grips her, gritting her teeth against the scream that wants to come out. She pushes as hard as she can, half her focus fixed on Candria's soothing count and half on the delightful mental images of how many ways she can truss up the father.

N'sync is.. staring. In something that lingers between shock and awe. "A girl?" he questions belatedly, gaze fixed raptly on the healer. Wow. N'sync is a father. Should the world begin to fear?

And with a speed that really /should/ be accompanied by a popping sound instead of a somewhat wet sounding suction noise, the head appears, christened with a liberal covering of cheesy goo, and, unfortunately, a bit of the mother's blood. Candria reaches in to rotate the shoulders, before easing the infant the rest of the way into the world on the next contraction. Only then does she find the time to reply to N'sync. "No... it's a boy. A fine big one," And as an angry squall begins to sound, she chuckles. "Good lungs on him, too. Wyn," she summons over the weyrling-turned-assistant. "Get him cleaned up and hand him to his mother?" Waiting for the afterbirth, she neatly begins to control the bleeding before it can turn major.

Wyn obeys, taking the wailing newborn as soon as Candria's cut the cord, cleaning him up, wrapping him in warmed towels, and then handing him to his mother. "There we go, and he already looks better than his father." she notes. Malicious? Wyn? Perhaps just a tad. She then busies herself hovering around the Journeywoman's shoulder, waiting for orders. Weyrling, slave, same thing, right?

Ciera collapses back, panting with her eyes closed. "Hush, Jak. I'm not interested right now." She takes the child in her arms, staring down at the loud, pink, wrinkly thing blankly. A faint grin flickers at Wyn's comment, and a vindictively triumphant look.

There's a girl.. it's a boy.. with the state N'sync's mind is, it's no wonder the brownrider is jumping to conclusions. "A../boy/. I have a /son/?" Correction. /Now/ the world should begin to fear. Wyn is even ignored in the awe of the moment. You know you want him.

"Faranth help us all, you do have a son." And Ciera's already making plans about impressing on him how much he does /not/ want to be like Daddy. With any luck, he'll have her looks and won't attract much swooning attention anyways. A frown down at the baby, and she mutters more quietly, "Ciotoswyn." And just like that, the boy has a name.

Candria laughs quietly, even as she's wrapping the afterbirth in a towel and handing it off to an apprentice to be incinerated. "Yes, you have a son, lad," she assures. "And his mother was one of the best troopers I've seen about it. She then silences to stitch up the tearing, anfter a thorough packing with mosstea, and the application of a good layer of numbweed. "Speaking of his mother..." she notes, when finished. "You had a good bit of tearing, trying to get that sone of yours into the world, Ciera. You lost a bit of blood, and to be on the safe side, I'd like you to stay in the Infirmary on bedrest for a few days. We'll give you some restoratives to help build you up, and I'd like you to stay off full wing duty for at least a month." There. The healer has spoken. "Congratulations on a fine and healthy boy... thought of a name yet?"

"Ciotoswyn," Ciera repeats more loudly, since the first was too quiet to be heard by any ears but hers. Somewhere in all that is a combination of her name, N'sync's, and even Wyn's... a thank-you for her help, perhaps? The bluerider's eyes flicker to the healer. "A full /month/ off wing duty? But I've lost so much time already from the pregnancy..."

N'sync simply repeats things. After all, it's really where his talent lies - repeating the same lines over and over again. "I have a son. Ciotoswyn." Head shaking, he suddenly breaks out of his stupor and peers down at the little boy, braving Ciera's wrath to run a finger gently along tiny arms. "/You/ are the shape of my heart," he whispers toward his son. Low enough that no one else can hear it and use it as amunition in the future.. except maybe Ciera. But then, he owes her that.

"Ciotoswyn," muses Wyn consideringly, eyeing the baby with surmise. "It will suit him. And of course, anyone with a name ending in 'wyn' will turn out all right." Gasp. Is Wyn being... facetious? And further gasp, does she actually think the baby is a little more than the squalling, smelly nuisance that she was informing Vorkoroth that all human infants are. Awww... feel the cheese.

Candria, while smiling at the little scene, is still not to be budged from her terms. "A full month. And I /will/ have one of the dragonhealers get their lifemate to inform your blue to sit on you, if needs be. And don't make me go to the Weyrleader. Your Seconds can handle things just fine." Muahahaha. Power.

Ciera is simply too tired even to lash out at N'sync right now. Though a considering look indicates that she tucked that little comment of his away for later use. A twist of her mouth signals her displeasure at Candria's verdict, but she holds her tongue. No sense arguing with a healer, especially when she's likely right. Doesn't mean she can't sulk. Right now, however, the baby and the prospect of rest are more pressing.

Wyn is suddenly informed in no uncertain terms by Vorkoroth that his afternoon swim has been delayed long enough, and she heads off towards the door. Manners interject themselves, belatedly, and she turns to note that "My lord and master calls me, but congratulations, Ciera. He looks to be a decent child." That's high praise from Wyn, don't you know. N'sync is once more ignored, although an N'sync in a paternal trance is certainly preferable to the normal variety.

N'sync clears his throat and straightens. "Um.. ok.. I'll just be.. going, then," he states, and slips toward the door. Wyn is gone. He can escape home free now! Which is probably safer than staying. He'll be back, though.. ooooh, yes. He'll be back.