Logs:Hello, Harriet
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| RL Date: 11 September, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, N'muir, Elaruth, Bijedth, Harriet |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie and N'muir consider names for their new daughter. |
| Where: Weyrwoman's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 7, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
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| It's been a reasonably quick and quiet affair, all told, healers and wailing child almost making more noise than the mother, who, in her worse moments, has chosen the vocabulary she has for them and their 'interference' with great care and attention paid to the thoughts she wishes to convey. Having spent much of her time crooning encouragement from the wallow, Elaruth now soars above the Weyr, sharing her joy with any and all who will listen, though none have yet dared to disturb new baby and parents. In this quiet of fresh sheets and snug blankets and sleeping little girl, Hattie sits propped up by expansive pillows, weariness banished by open adoration for the child she cradles, who has yet to see the turn of a full hour. "...I always forget how tiny they are," she murmurs, a besotted smile curling at the corners of her lips. Transfixed, yes, yet not possessive, she moves to gently transfer the baby into her weyrmate's arms. As quick and quiet as it might have been, the ordeal could have possibly taken as much (if not more) out of N'muir as Hattie. He remained close to Hattie throughout, casting dark, anxious looks at the healers while Bijedth hummed his quiet support from the wallow next to Elaruth until the baby girl came crying into the world. While his mate flies high in celebration, Bijedth remains at the mouth of the weyr to ward off visitors and watches his pale mate in the sky, mirroring her happiness. N'muir watches mother and child with absolute adoration, and when Hattie offers, N'muir moves to crawl in carefully next to his weyrmate to take their daughter in the crook of his arm. As he does, there's a subtle edge of concern sobering his paternal bliss as he lifts his eyes to graze Hattie before looking at the baby in his arms. Immediately, concern is replaced with a warm smile of love and affection that he lifts from daughter to mother and leans over to give Hattie a kiss. "She's beautiful," he remarks fondly. "What should we call her?" Hattie returns his kiss, unable to keep from smiling into it, and twists a little to settle at and curl into N'muir's side, her head propped against his shoulder, so that she might look down at their child and give her affectionate study, as if expecting her to provide her own name. "...You did say, once, that we should name a baby after Elaruth and Bijedth," she murmurs, turning her head a touch to nuzzle in against his shoulder. "...Neriah. Mireia." A soft note of laughter precedes, "Harriet, even if it's technically a tad egotistical. Look in Ruatha River's records for my date of birth and there it is. Not that I think a single soul has ever called me so since that was penned." She takes a quiet moment to consider, then tries out, "Eija, Hailee, Aurelie. If we were to name her as our dragons' child." "We really ought to have given this some thought beforehand, hmm?" N'muir remarks and chuckles softly. "Bijaruth..a?" A joke, surely. Hopefully. N'muir's doting study of their newborn daughter is only broken when Hattie laughs, his expression still smiling as confusion subtly wrinkles one brow. He gives a quiet sound that is half-amusement but mostly curiosity. "Your birth name is Harriet? How has this never come up before? And how did you come to be called Hattie then and not Harriet?" His attention swings back down to the infant child swaddled and nestled in the crook of his arm. "It seems such a strange thing to come up with a name for a baby and then not use it." A boyish smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "How about we officially name her Bijarutha but /call/ her Harriet? No one will ever know. You can pen the name in the records. Only Fort's weyrwomen of the future will ever know... and I suppose anyone else who reads the birth records, but how many other people could honestly wish to do that other than weyrwomen?" "...I didn't like to think on names too long, in-case..." Hattie softly admits, the heaviness to her voice one that doesn't reach her eyes, nor is it able to wipe the smile from her face. "I'm not Harriet," seems a simple enough answer, to her, though her brows dip the tiniest bit as she thinks it through. "I've never answered to it, or thought of it as me. It's just a name in a record. I'm not sure I even knew it until I was old enough to go through the records myself, and by then it was too late. Maybe some aged aunt branded me Hattie and it stuck. Elaruth's never thought of me as Harriet, I suppose because... that girl isn't me." Her dark gaze finds the sleeping child, and she's utterly unable to fight down the besotted manner in which her lips curve to a near grin, if a gentle one. "But it could be her." She peeks up at N'muir over the curve of his shoulder. "That sounds like a deal. I hope you know that I will be writing 'named by her father' in the margin of the record." It's a sobering thought, all the worrisome potential behind Hattie's 'in-case' that might be the explanation behind N'muir's own lack of baby names too. He swallows and smiles down at the bundled baby in his arms, eyes brimming with paternal love, worry and fear driven away in an instant. "Too late," N'muir echoes Hattie's words in an amused tone,a crooked smile of affection cast sidelong at his weyrmate. "Too 'Hattie' to be 'Harriet'." He lifts his shoulder and cranes his head to kiss the baby's brow before carefully offering her back to Hattie. "I must have been born to be a 'Niemuirin'. It was the only name I ever had before N'muir." A dark chuckle escapes him. "It might be best to just stick with 'Harriet' if you're going to make a permanent record of it. I don't need credit for a name like 'Bijarutha' written in the tomes of history. What do you think? Harriet?" "I'm too Hattie to be anything else," Hattie utters wryly, a ripple of warm laughter accompanying her words. She might be well-practiced now in handling newborns, yet it doesn't manage to entirely rob her of the tentative, too careful manner in which she gently adjusts the baby to rest against her, mindful of her fragility. "Perhaps it's just as well that you didn't have half a dozen other names, or you might have robbed Nimarie and Nehmet of the names they've collected. I think both of them will be undeniably identifiable as yours even if they Impress and shorten them. I like that." She punctuates that with a kiss pressed to the curve of N'muir's shoulder, which allows her to peek up at him again. "Are you sure?" she asks in the same deadpan manner as before. "I'd hate to rob you of the notoriety of giving a child such a... unique name." But she just can't keep a straight face, especially when she lowers her attention to their daughter, a telltale shine to her eyes as she murmurs, "Hello, Harriet." Try as she might, it's not long before she slumps against her weyrmate and the baby has to be pried gently from her arms, exhaustion too heavy a weight for her to fight, until the demands of healers or child will inevitably force her to wake. |
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