Post by Greenie on Jan 13, 2010 17:18:34 GMT -5
Characters: Vessatha, Dysthymia
Word Count: 894
When Mia had first heard his mother was pregnant – not from her, mind you, but from some whispers in the hallway – he didn’t believe it. Vessatha was overly scrupulous about not letting anything “bad” happen to her or her lot, and he knew for a fact that pregnancy fell into the “bad” category like an anvil into an empty well. Clearly, this was just a rumor, and all he had to do was go stalk her for a while and he’d be able to prove it false.
Feeling considerably more cheerful that there was no way he was suddenly going to be a sibling to children younger than his own son, he trotted off to his mother’s office and stuck his head in the door. She was there, alright, but – asleep? Asleep, almost entirely on the desk, curled up in the fetal position. She hadn’t stirred even slightly when the door opened. Why was she wearing a shirt?
The feeling of absolute certainty that his mother was not pregnant vanished in a flash. Mia was torn between laughter, annoyance, and his stomach churning; laughter, because his mother was pregnant, and he happened to like making fun of her; annoyance, because he was not babysitting; his stomach was churning over the fact that he’d been standing in the room for five minutes and she was still sound asleep. Either she was pregnant, or dead.
He experimentally knocked her quill holder off the desk and cringed himself when it crashed to the floor loudly and the quills scattered everywhere. Vessa didn’t twitch, shift, or move, but he was relieved to hear her murmur something in her sleep. Okay, she wasn’t dead.
Finally he gave up and jabbed her a few times in the forehead until she swatted his hand away, and blnked at him, sleep still evident in her unfocused eyes. “Mia?” She mumbled, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position. “Did I fall asleep?” She asked, mostly rhetorically, as her limbs were stiff from not being used in a while. She grimaced and placed a hand on her bulging stomach, where a rough kick had sent spasms going down her back.
“Apparently.” Mia replied with considerably less sarcasm than usual. “Are you feeling okay? Feeling… pregnant?” He asked poignantly, his eyebrows risen.
She scowled at him. “It’s not my fault you’re oblivious. I’m five months along, Mia.” She pulled up the blouse to show her rounded belly protruding from her torso. It wasn’t necessarily obvious with the shirt on, but most people had figured out by now she wasn’t simply getting fat. Now fully awake, she stared bemusedly at her floor. “Why are my quills everywhere?”
“You kicked the can off in your sleep,” Mia replied smoothly, then immediately changed the subject. “More importantly, since when did you and Mom decide you wanted more kids? I distinctly remember you telling my siblings and I that we were, and I quote, ‘Total and utter terrors, not worth nine months and twenty-two hours of hell.’ What changed?” He sat in one of her chairs, having decided she wasn’t going to start spasming and fall off the desk.
Vessatha eyed the can suspiciously, unable to tell if he was lying or if she actually had kicked it. Not feeling up to bending over, she slid off the desk and into her comfy, plush chair. If nothing else, being pregnant meant she got to relax more often and not feel bad about it. “Nothing changed. It was an accident. Do you really think I enjoy getting kicked in the bladder every few minutes? That I enjoy being a crabby bitch all the time?” She paused, and reconsidered the last statement. “Okay, I admit, it’s fun making the maids think I’ve gone off the deep end, but Donnie and I could destroy the Capital simply off the malevolent power of our hormones.” She grumbled, glad she and Donnie weren’t in the same trimester of pregnancy.
“You enjoy terrorizing the maids no matter what your condition. Nothing’s changed, other than you look like a bloated whale and in four months I’m going to have wailing, screaming, pooping siblings.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not babysitting, by the way.”
“You can’t even babysit your own child. I’d like this litter to stay alive, thanks, so you can just kindly stay away from them?” Vessatha requested with a toothy grin.
Mildly offended, Mia flipped her off with a grimace and sunk back into the chair. Now was clearly not the time to mention he and Chris were considering having more kids themselves – he’d abruptly decided they were going to wait until this obscure rash of pregnancies washed out of the Courts before they re-entered that state themselves. “Zether’s a teenager. He doesn’t need to be babysat anymore.”
“Hmm, yes, that’s why he’s off climbing the rooftops at obscure hours of the morning. He reminds me distinctly of someone else I know…” She leered, smirking as she leaned back in her chair.
Mia just scowled at her. “You need a nap that isn’t on your desk, so I think I’ll just leave you alone and send in some hapless scribe to get bitched at. I’m feeling grumpy all the sudden.” He slid off the chair and left the office, grumbling to himself about pregnancies and small children.
Vessatha just grinned. Children. Weren’t they just marvelous?
Word Count: 894
When Mia had first heard his mother was pregnant – not from her, mind you, but from some whispers in the hallway – he didn’t believe it. Vessatha was overly scrupulous about not letting anything “bad” happen to her or her lot, and he knew for a fact that pregnancy fell into the “bad” category like an anvil into an empty well. Clearly, this was just a rumor, and all he had to do was go stalk her for a while and he’d be able to prove it false.
Feeling considerably more cheerful that there was no way he was suddenly going to be a sibling to children younger than his own son, he trotted off to his mother’s office and stuck his head in the door. She was there, alright, but – asleep? Asleep, almost entirely on the desk, curled up in the fetal position. She hadn’t stirred even slightly when the door opened. Why was she wearing a shirt?
The feeling of absolute certainty that his mother was not pregnant vanished in a flash. Mia was torn between laughter, annoyance, and his stomach churning; laughter, because his mother was pregnant, and he happened to like making fun of her; annoyance, because he was not babysitting; his stomach was churning over the fact that he’d been standing in the room for five minutes and she was still sound asleep. Either she was pregnant, or dead.
He experimentally knocked her quill holder off the desk and cringed himself when it crashed to the floor loudly and the quills scattered everywhere. Vessa didn’t twitch, shift, or move, but he was relieved to hear her murmur something in her sleep. Okay, she wasn’t dead.
Finally he gave up and jabbed her a few times in the forehead until she swatted his hand away, and blnked at him, sleep still evident in her unfocused eyes. “Mia?” She mumbled, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position. “Did I fall asleep?” She asked, mostly rhetorically, as her limbs were stiff from not being used in a while. She grimaced and placed a hand on her bulging stomach, where a rough kick had sent spasms going down her back.
“Apparently.” Mia replied with considerably less sarcasm than usual. “Are you feeling okay? Feeling… pregnant?” He asked poignantly, his eyebrows risen.
She scowled at him. “It’s not my fault you’re oblivious. I’m five months along, Mia.” She pulled up the blouse to show her rounded belly protruding from her torso. It wasn’t necessarily obvious with the shirt on, but most people had figured out by now she wasn’t simply getting fat. Now fully awake, she stared bemusedly at her floor. “Why are my quills everywhere?”
“You kicked the can off in your sleep,” Mia replied smoothly, then immediately changed the subject. “More importantly, since when did you and Mom decide you wanted more kids? I distinctly remember you telling my siblings and I that we were, and I quote, ‘Total and utter terrors, not worth nine months and twenty-two hours of hell.’ What changed?” He sat in one of her chairs, having decided she wasn’t going to start spasming and fall off the desk.
Vessatha eyed the can suspiciously, unable to tell if he was lying or if she actually had kicked it. Not feeling up to bending over, she slid off the desk and into her comfy, plush chair. If nothing else, being pregnant meant she got to relax more often and not feel bad about it. “Nothing changed. It was an accident. Do you really think I enjoy getting kicked in the bladder every few minutes? That I enjoy being a crabby bitch all the time?” She paused, and reconsidered the last statement. “Okay, I admit, it’s fun making the maids think I’ve gone off the deep end, but Donnie and I could destroy the Capital simply off the malevolent power of our hormones.” She grumbled, glad she and Donnie weren’t in the same trimester of pregnancy.
“You enjoy terrorizing the maids no matter what your condition. Nothing’s changed, other than you look like a bloated whale and in four months I’m going to have wailing, screaming, pooping siblings.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not babysitting, by the way.”
“You can’t even babysit your own child. I’d like this litter to stay alive, thanks, so you can just kindly stay away from them?” Vessatha requested with a toothy grin.
Mildly offended, Mia flipped her off with a grimace and sunk back into the chair. Now was clearly not the time to mention he and Chris were considering having more kids themselves – he’d abruptly decided they were going to wait until this obscure rash of pregnancies washed out of the Courts before they re-entered that state themselves. “Zether’s a teenager. He doesn’t need to be babysat anymore.”
“Hmm, yes, that’s why he’s off climbing the rooftops at obscure hours of the morning. He reminds me distinctly of someone else I know…” She leered, smirking as she leaned back in her chair.
Mia just scowled at her. “You need a nap that isn’t on your desk, so I think I’ll just leave you alone and send in some hapless scribe to get bitched at. I’m feeling grumpy all the sudden.” He slid off the chair and left the office, grumbling to himself about pregnancies and small children.
Vessatha just grinned. Children. Weren’t they just marvelous?
and working on plans to rescue the results. >.>
