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WHO: Pel and YOU but especially her "clan"
WHAT: Open post
WHEN: Late Bloomingtide/early Justinian
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: +1 baby.

Closed - Merrick

Pel didn't necessarily think Merrick would stay away for her entire confinement period. He at least seems to have waited for a time when she was not sleeping. She's looking rested, at least compared with the last time he saw her. Her hair is braided and even, and the sheets of her bed are clean and mostly in order. There is no trace of blood or any other fluid anywhere in the room. She is sitting atop them with a pillow on her lap, the baby on the pillow having lunch, Pel's free hand writing in a book while the other supports the baby's back. A glowing blue glyph has been drawn on the wall, radiating cold and keeping the temperature comfortable. When the light dims as Merrick appears in the window, she looks up at him, and her whole face blooms with a smile--a far cry from her usual self-conscious stifled grin. Rest and bonding have been appreciated, but somehow she has never been happier to see Merrick than right now. There's only so much peace and quiet a workaholic can take, and days are achingly slow when you're only visited briefly once a day by any person who can talk. That, and she misses her oldest child.

Bloomingtide 24th

Closed - Sina

The traditional confinement time for a Dalish woman is short, since her hands are needed for daily work and the clan may not be able to stop in one place for very long. Four days with only her baby and a midwife to periodically check on everything is still a good practice, giving her much-needed rest and time to bond. It has still felt way too long, and Pel is overjoyed when Sina knocks. There is already a basin filled with water on the table, and beside it is a pint of halla-milk. On the other side is a baby-sized basket with a baby in it. There is, however, no explanation whatsoever. Pel simply requested Sina come over, and she greets her at the door with a tight hug.

"Thank you for coming. I don't know if you've any idea why I asked you here, or what traditions you heard of in your clan."

Open - Gardens

It feels good to be outside at last, in the fresh air. Pel has brought her work with her to play catch-up, sitting at a small portable desk she has unfolded for this purpose. Beside her is a basket with a baby in it. Because it's her debut, the baby is wearing a brown silk gown that goes well past her feet, and is embroidered finely with the image of a family of bears. When the shadows are too short, Pel drapes a cloth over the basket to protect the baby from the sun.

Visit whenever you please, though there are no guarantees as to the state of the baby. The actual amount of time she is alert, as opposed to sleeping or nursing, is short, so non-baby-related conversation is actually an easy thing to come by. But when she is alert, it's easy to tell from a distance, because then she comes out of the basket and is laid along Pel's lap so that she can be engaged by the world around her.

Wildcard - Any time, any place

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Sansa has not seen Pel since late in her pregnancy and it is a great pleasure now to be able to see her and the baby in the gardens. The babe is awake at this moment and Sansa is glad to see it; she has always liked babies even if she doesn't feel ready to have her own just yet. She has a small bundle of baby things with her, gowns and cloths for burping and even cloth diapers. She doesn't know if Pel needs these things or not but she had wanted to make them.

"I brought some things for you and the babe," Sansa says, drawing up close to them. "I hope that isn't overstepping?"

Little Sina has stuffed her knuckles in her mouth. She drools and kicks her feet and occasionally lets out little sounds. Pel looks up from her to give Sansa a smile.

"Of course it's not. It's what people do, it seems. And if you're ever in the same situation, you'll get all of these things back. Would you like to hold her while I sort through it?"

"I would love to," Sansa says, reaching out for Sina to take her into her arms. She is an elf child, yes, but aside from that she's lovely and as jolly as any human child Sansa has ever seen. She doesn't understand why the elves are persecuted here but she supposes it's just another part of Thedas, for good or for ill.

"She's beautiful. What a charming little lady," Sansa coos, hoping she can amuse the child. She's too small yet to really follow anything she's saying or babble but Sansa doesn't mind. It's charming anyway.

Sansa's tricks seem to be working. Sina's eyes are fixed on her. In a moment, her legs start to kick happily. She is too young to smile or laugh, so instead, she dances.

Pel grins as she sorts Sansa's gifts into stacks. She holds up one of the gowns to admire it. "These are beautiful," she says softly. "Do you see this, little girl? Your mother and father grew up with so very little, but you will be dressed like a princess."

That might be an exaggeration, but Pel doesn't show it. She glows as she folds the gown and sets it in the 'clothes' pile.

"She ought to be dressed well. Besides, I can make her any number of fine things just using the scraps from all these Orlesian commissions I keep getting," Sansa says.

"I enjoyed making them for you and I am happy to make more as she grows. It is my gift to you for welcoming me here."

"I'm glad you're doing so well. But please at least let me give you one of my knit goods. I know it doesn't really get cold here like it does in Skyhold, but everyone needs socks."

Iskandar's face lit up when he saw the child, coming over to where Pel was. He no longer cared about anything else he had to do, just wanting to visit with the baby and mother in that moment. He'd known that he was part of the child's life in the future but right now that relationship was still so new.

"Pel, it is good to see you and the beautiful Sina."

Sitting himself down, he leaned closer to have a look at the child. In that moment it was clear that he was so in love with her already and this was just his first time seeing her.

It's so very important to Pel that her child has the love and support of many. She smiles, stands, and moves to shift the newborn into Iskandar's huge arms. Sina has soft wisps of white curls and pointed ears, but otherwise looks pretty much like any other newborn. She stirs as she settles into the big man's arms, but does not truly wake.

Rather than be comical, the scene was touching instead. A giant man with a body that could crush this child with one hand was instead cradling her like she was the most precious treasure. He'd never been able to hold his own child in his lifetime so to be able to hold Pel's, to be part of this child's life, meant the world to him.

Without even thinking about it or being aware of what he'd called her in the future, he softly spoke to the sleeping child. "Hello, princess. You are breathtaking."

Pel is overcome with something strange; not exactly hormones, but those don't really help. Gratitude. No--praise. Praise to Mythal for the gift of these friends who already love and cherish her daughter this much. Her heart is full to the brim, looking at this big man sheltering a tiny elven baby in his arms. Tears sting her eyes, and she finds herself patting herself down for a handkerchief just in case she can't blink them away.

Sina, meanwhile, seems unaware anything has changed. She is just as peaceful and secure in Iskandar's arms as those of her mother.

"She'll be able to see the whole world, from your shoulders," Pel says softly, so as not to wake her.

"I will gladly show her that world. And share what it is like in my own as well. The many stories I would like to share with her..."

He laughed softly, a gentle finger fixing a tiny strand of pale hair on her head. One would think this was his own child with how he adored her already. Already he'd taken her under his wing, ready to be one of her many family members to spoil her.

"You know, I was never able to hold my own son after his birth. To be able to hold your daughter touches me deeply."

"People keep giving me clothes for her," Pel says fondly. "People I barely know, or don't know at all. The gown she's wearing was delivered anonymously some time ago. I was going through an awful time and it meant so much to think someone cared more about being kind than they cared about being known. More people look out for us than I know about. And that...makes me feel safe. It makes me feel like she could be safe. Which almost seems like a forbidden thought, and danger will strike the moment I give in and let my guard down."

He laughed softly and gently touched her face, felt how soft her skin was. She was one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever beheld in his entire life. "She has her own little family beyond that of blood. After all, family is not handled to us through blood but through those that stretch out their hands in love."

Gaga eyes are for other people. Alistair approaches Pel like he's approaching a wild animal, or his own doom—mainly for show. He likes kids just fine. (Being one himself certainly helps with that.) But he's never dealt with a newborn. Unlike Lucci, who showed up laughing and causing havoc, a newborn seems like something he could actually break, so there's a very small amount of real wariness in the way he stops at a distance from Pel in the grden, hip and head both cocked.

A very small amount. Mostly he's putting on a show: impress me, infant, with no way in the world he won't actually be impressed.

"All right," he says. "Let's see it."

Sina is somewhat alert right now, so Pel has her on her lap. At Alistair's words, she picks up the newborn and stands her up, supporting most but not all of her weight. Sina seems to like this, as it gives her a chance to stretch her legs and gain a little muscle.

"You can hold her," Pel offers. "If you like."

"I don't know," Alistair drawls, quiet and skeptical, eyeing the baby like she's—well. Like she's a full-grown adult he's been asked to trust. "Does she bite?"

"Sometimes, but she doesn't have teeth." Since Alistair is being even more of a baby than Sina, Pel stands up and holds baby against her shoulder in one arm while using the other hand to crook Alistair's arm the right way. "You make sure to support her head and her bottom. Here. Face your fears."

And whether Alistair is ready or not, she's gently easing the baby into his arms, keeping her hands where they can catch if something goes awry.

Edited 2017-05-22 16:04 (UTC)

Nothing goes awry. His arm is too big for something this small to fall out of it, surely. And he doesn't struggle or protest—he isn't really bothered. Still, when he lowers his head down to look her in the face, he refuses to look too charmed yet. Or he tries. His mouth does twitch, involuntarily.

"No teeth," he tells her, like it's a personal failing and he expect better next time. "How many toes?"

"Eleven," Pel deadpans. "And watch what they do when you do this."

She bends down to the height of those little feet, the soles of which are turned toward each other, as is typical at this stage. She plants little kisses on the soles of those feet, and almost immediately, the toes spread like a flower blooming.

"Oh," Alistair says. For that syllable he's no longer pretending to be a difficult-to-impress baby critic; it's genuine, quieter for it, mostly air. But then he recovers and sharpens. "Oh, that's not fair. A week old and she's already playing dirty."

Pel laughs and straightens. "She is quite perfect," she agrees, brimming with pride. "Though I'm told my point of view is a bit biased."

"Keh," gurgles Sina. She squirms, her little face scrunching up. While she has him, Pel rests against Alistair for a moment. It's nice to feel small after four days of being nothing but a mom.

"It'll be good to get back to work," she says at last. There's only so much peace and quiet one can take. Morrigan gave me cloth for a sling, so my hands can be free in the office."

"Keh," Alistair echoes to the baby before he looks at Pel instead. "Morrigan—? Right, I guess she would have experience with that."

And he doesn't. For the very first time, he's genuinely sorry—not only that Morrigan had to do all of this alone, he's felt bad about that for a year, but sorry that he missed it. He wouldn't have been any help, and especially back then he and Morrigan would have chewed each other to pieces, but he'd like to really know what Kieran looked and smelled like when he was this tiny.

He shakes it off. He isn't going to get sad in front of Pel right now. Especially not when the last thing mentioned is Morrigan. His attention turns back to little Sina, and he screws his mouth thoughtfully to one side before announcing his verdict: "Decent work. Not too raw, not too crispy. She can stick around as long as she's nice to you."

Sina sneezes. Pel turns against his arm to muffle her laughter.

"You ass," she says fondly. She rests her cheek on his arm like she often will with Cyril, eyes on her daughter, who sneezes one more time before settling down.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she says, an underlying panic with a touch of manic glee.

Edited 2017-05-25 16:14 (UTC)

The sneeze startles his eyes wide, and in the aftermath keeping a straight face is a bit of a struggle. A struggle he wins, mostly. His eyes still crinkle up even though he refuses to smile, and they stay that way when he looks away from the baby and toward Pel.

"So it's an adventure," he says. "Venturing into the great unknown with your trusty companions—that's me, I'm trusty—and the world's cutest potato."

Her smile renews, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "What would I do without you, lethallin?" A pause. "Sleep better, probably."

When Cyril sees the baby's outfit he chuckles a bit. "Now I'm imagining what Gavin would say about the dress..." His voice trails off because talking about Gavin is always strange now, but still the bears on the dress had made him think of the man.

He changes the subject rather than lingering. "How are my favorite ladies doing today?"

There was a time when Pel thought her first child would be Gavin's. It's peculiar to think on it now. Her brow furrows as she looks down at Sina, who is having a snack.

"It feels good to be outside," Pel says somewhat distantly. Then her tone perks up as she moves on as well. "Of course, Sina is bewildered by absolutely everything. It's wonderful to watch. She's getting to know the world for the first time. Her first grass, her first flower, her first sunlight. Can you imagine what a change that is? No sight or smell, hardly any hearing, just the one thing to taste. Floating in warm water. Now, there is a whole world for her to adjust to."

Sina finishes and immediately starts up a fussy little cry. Pel rearranges her clothing.

"Would you like to wind her? Just keep her sort of...like this." She rests Sina along her forearm, face-out. "And pat and rub her back firmly."

Cyril nods and moves closer to take the baby. He carefully follows Pel's direction and even looks to her to make sure he's doing everything right. Once he settles in a way to get Sina comfortable he chuckles a bit.

"I never noticed that babies have a particular smell before. You'd think I would have..." Sina's not the first elven child that Cyril has interacted with but the others had all been clanmates who had their own parents.

Babies and the care thereof are not Margaux's milieu.

She likes them, in theory; she intends, in time, to have at least one of her own, with ears as pointed as Sina's, if skin darker. She's liked most of the babies she's ever been around, and they're hard to avoid in alienages - but she's flitted in and out of lives, and never been the sort of girl corralled to aid in the care of the young.

So though she regards the sleepy Sina with ready affection, sprawling out beside the basket and dangling the ends of her lilac braids above her to play with - they're not that alien, she knows babies like hair, she's got more of it than most people, there wasn't a man's chance in the fade that she intended to come down here with her hair loose - it is also a bit as if she's some new species of thing that must be observed for study. What the fuck does a baby, anyway.

"What's her name?"

"Sina." Who is too young to be yanking on hair just yet, although her fingers do close around whatever touches her palm. But only for a few seconds. "She'll be more fun in a few weeks, I promise. Although I'm not sure I wish it would come any sooner."

Sina's stare is intense, unlike her present grip. She watches Margaux's face as if it blows her mind.

With a baby looking up at her as if she contains the secrets of multitudes, Margaux crosses her eyes and tries to touch her tongue to the tip of her nose. A bona-fide winner with most small people, in her experience, even the ones too small to fully appreciate the nuance in the world beyond 'mama' and 'everything else'.

"Soon the moving and the walking and the climbing. My mama says the climbing is the worst."

That's probably because Margaux climbed before she could walk steadily.

Sina's mouth opens into an O shape, without the drooling that usually accompanies the rooting instinct. Too young to smile or laugh, she instead starts kicking her feet wildly enough to rock herself back and forth. Pel laughs and beams.

"She likes you. She used to kick like that before she was born, too. And I-I'm sure your mama is right. But I can't imagine her that big yet. Right now, she fits in my arms and smells wonderful."

A small nod. "You can pick her up, if you like. I want her to meet and bond with people. I want her to feel safe with people who are safe."

Despite having not been much one for the care and feeding of the small, Margaux has enough experience to lift her confidently - supporting her little head, cradling her carefully but not as if she's particularly afraid of breaking her. "Babies like my fancy hands," she says, booping Sina on her tiny nose with one of them. "My friend, her little girl would colour in the lines if I sat for long enough."

A bigger baby, granted, with actual motor skills.

"A good baby," she pronounces, kissing her forehead. "I want to have a girl, when I have mine. For the Maker to decide, I suppose."

Pel smiles proudly. Alistair had said something similar. Not too raw, not to crispy.

"Now that I'm no longer pregnant, I need to find someone who'll give a good tattoo. I've been wanting something for ages." She pauses thoughtfully at the rest. Her gaze falls back to her work, but she stops writing.

"I wouldn't have loved a son any less. I would like a son one day, if you'll forgive me being a bit greedy. But if I could only have one and had my choice, I would have picked a girl. I knew I wanted to name her Sina. And I have a family heirloom that's been passed down through generations of women, since the time of Halam--since we lived free in Halamshiral. I could give it to a boy, of course, but I'm...not at all 'real Dalish' anymore. I want to keep some traditions intact."

"None that aren't part of the birthing process," Sina admits, hugging her tightly back, "though I've... never had occasion to do that. Oh!!"
The exclamation leaves her as a gasp when she spots the basket, and she abruptly leaves Pel's side to kneel beside it, her eyes fixated on the baby's face.
"An'daran atish'an, da'vhenan," she breathes, her eyes alight.

Pel's breath catches very quietly. If Sina looks up, she will see her pressing her fingertips to her mouth and beaming. After a moment, her hand moves to her heart and she blinks mist away from her eyes.

"Sina," she says, "meet Sina." She had underestimated how precious this moment would feel, the two of them meeting for the first time. The honor she intended in the naming is given at last. A deep breath. "It is customary for the Keeper to give the baby her first bath, just before she meets the rest of the clan, and halla milk is added to the bathwater--not only as a symbol of her belonging to the clan, it's also terribly good for her skin. You are the closest thing I have to a Keeper, love. I want you to be the one to do it."

Sina looks briefly confused, then remembers: Pel spoke to her about this, so it shouldn't be a surprise. Blushing lightly, she looks fondly down again, and gives a nod.
"Of course," she says, "always for you, lethallan. Have you already got the water?"

Pel hovers her hand over the basin and fills it with ice and snow. A moment later, she switches, her hand holding hot flame to melt it all. She tests the temperature with her elbow, then casts a little more to adjust the temperature till it is perfect.

"There. You...you put your left hand behind her, and hold her right shoulder when you lower her in. She should relax once she's floating. Ma serannas,
lethallan."

Sina nods, silently, dutifully. She does as instructed, giving a little gasp of surprise when she lifts the child and finds her to be so light. So fragile, yet healthy, and fortunately still new enough to not object too terribly to being held.
"The milk?" Sina asks, raising her eyes to Pel, all business. She eases perfectly into the role, standing straighter, shrouded in quiet gravitas. Nothing has ever meant more to her.

"Right here." Pel scoots the little pitcher so it's within easy reach. Fresh this morning.

Little Sina gives a little cry that turns into a big cry, when she is disturbed and unwrapped. But once she is in the water, she quiets. This, this is a state she knows well, immersed in warm water and free from gravity. Her eyes go wide, and she watches Big Sina with a calm, steady focus.

Big Sina is startled back into her nerves when the baby cries, and she looks at Pel helplessly as she stands there for a moment, but then she remembers what her friend said and lowers Little Sina into the mixture.
Such a tiny thing, barely recognizable as an elf if not for her crinkly skin and the perfect little tipped ears. No wonder there have been none of these since her clan was decimated: such care they require, such safety.
Rather than let her thoughts go down a sorrowful road, Sina begins to hum, quieting her own mind and with hopes of soothing the baby.

The humming gets a slow blink. Then a slower one. Water swishes and trickles to the rhythm of the song. Baby's eyes fail to open after one of the slow blinks. By the time Sina washes the wisps of white hair on the top of her head, Little Sina is fast asleep.

If she looks over, she will see Pel with her fingertips to her mouth again, as if she daren't breathe for fear of waking the baby.

Pel will find the tune a familiar one, an Elvhen prayer for safety and guidance, naturally somewhat different from Ashara's version, as tends to happen when disparate groups adapt one tradition. Dahlasanor's is sadder somehow, includes grace notes that almost resemble the voice breaking as though with grief, but when Sina begins to murmur the words while lovingly washing the child, the message of hope shines through.

The mist in Pel's eyes becomes tears. Her own mother had to send her away, so this song has always meant a great deal to her. Now she is a mother, and her own mother won't even acknowledge her anymore. It hurts. Sina sings, the little yodels in her voice breaking Pel's heart all the way up until Pel steps forward, fingertips brushing over the baby's brow, tears knocked onto her cheeks with a blink. This daughter is here, with her. Between them, there is no abandonment. There is no grief. And if her mother was able to stand where Pel stands now and still give her away, then that bond bore little resemblance to this one, and there is no reason to believe it will end the same way. To bring the troubles of her old family to taint the new one is not necessary.

The hope in Sina's song brings a smile to her lips. The gods must truly work through their children, if Sina can so unwittingly guide Pel to healing by the grace of Ghilan'nain.

Merrick has been spending most of his time in his room lately, curled up on his bed in the dark, staring at the wall. The ache of sadness in his limbs makes it hurt to move, and his headaches get worse as the weather changes. For the most part, it doesn't seem as if anything will help him get out and moving.

Then Sina was born, and Merrick had had to be by Pel's side. The entire birth had been emotionally grueling, but it had been a powerful distraction from the hollow pit of loss he'd been trapped in. Now, he finds himself leaving his room regularly for the first time in weeks, determined to help Pel in any way he can.

He doesn't smile back, but Pel is used to that. He hops down into the room and moves to Pel's side, smoothing her hair back so he can kiss her forehead.

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OPEN

Gardens

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Gardens - Mostly a placeholder since I'll be slow but I needed to tag this

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gardens

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gardens.

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ARRIVES 93450485843 DAYS LATE WITH STARHALLAS

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