Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
16.Nov.18, 04:53 AM
Indivara had stopped feeling anything but exhausted hours ago… many hours ago. She’d given in and let the helpers herd her onto the bed – instead of her active pacing around the room – when she’d tripped three times within four steps and only been saved because Val had been pacing with her. She’d stopped yelling, screaming or cursing during contractions many hours ago, too. She’d stopped crying hours ago; now she just tried to not pass out from pain and exhaustion, tried to will the damned baby to come out.
She knew he wasn’t going to.
Quennell had been trying to get the infant to turn since she’d gone into active labour the previous morning. Venseth had had to be drugged at around dinner time, the ex-rider’s conferencing with the Healers about how much of what drugs could be given to the dragon without doing him damage. He’d been semi-unconscious for the past ten hours. Indivara was glad; she could feel him, warm and reassuring presence on the edge of her mind, no longer an emotional mess that, honestly, was on the edge of losing his cool and leaving her behind. Indivara didn’t want to lose her dragon.
The Master Healer had been called in around midnight; Indivara hadn’t noticed, but Val had been nice enough to talk quietly to her even though she wasn’t really able to process much of what he was saying. The sound of his voice was soothing, though. Like Venseth’s presence, it was warm and reassuring and if he was worried (she was sure he must be, because she was worried) she couldn’t hear it on his voice. If it was on his face – or anyones – she couldn’t see it through the haze of exhaustion. It was hard enough to keep her eyes open, never mind focusing on someone.
They spent most of the very early hours trying to turn the baby, issuing commands to her like ‘push now’ as if she had any energy to push. The baby didn’t move though; Indivara could feel him jammed up against her insides at an awkward position that wouldn’t let the little bastard slide out like he was supposed to. One of the healers had given the situation a name, but all Indivara knew was that it was an endless night of pain and exhaustion. If she hadn’t already decided she wasn’t having any more children, this situation would have convinced her.
The winters sun was starting to rise when the Healers – Indivara knew Quennell was there, and Talian, and that Master Healer – moved away from her, all scowling and serious, she glanced up and around for Val, taking a few moments to focus on his face. There were other people in the room, friends, but Indivara focused on her mate, lifting one exhausted hand to tap him lightly on the underside of his chin. She offered a wan, exhausted smile that was barely a twitch of her lips. “Love you,” she whispered, eyes soft and wondering exactly when it was she was actually going to die. She knew she was, honestly. It was just a waiting game. She hoped her body didn’t make her wait too much longer, she was so sick of being in pain. So much pain.
Focusing on Val, Indivara didn’t notice when the Healers came back, or when several Journeymen moved to hold her arms and legs down, leaning heavily on her; she did feel the coolness of numbweed being smoothed over her lower stomach, but it didn’t stop the pain of the next contraction so it didn’t really compute. What she did feel, did notice, and did compute was the sharp drawing of a medical blade across her lower stomach, just above her panty line, and she shrieked in pain, whole body jerking and struggling under the Healers before her eyes rolled and she passed out, flopping with dead weight onto the bed.
A few seconds later, and Quennell stood up tall, holding a screaming, angry baby up. “Girl,” he said firmly, and thrust the infant into the hands of the closest person, content that the child was alive and healthy. Now they had to make sure Indivara stayed that way; the surgical removal of the baby was risky – but as likely as they were to lose her from the surgery, they’d determined they would definitly loose them both if they didn’t.
She knew he wasn’t going to.
Quennell had been trying to get the infant to turn since she’d gone into active labour the previous morning. Venseth had had to be drugged at around dinner time, the ex-rider’s conferencing with the Healers about how much of what drugs could be given to the dragon without doing him damage. He’d been semi-unconscious for the past ten hours. Indivara was glad; she could feel him, warm and reassuring presence on the edge of her mind, no longer an emotional mess that, honestly, was on the edge of losing his cool and leaving her behind. Indivara didn’t want to lose her dragon.
The Master Healer had been called in around midnight; Indivara hadn’t noticed, but Val had been nice enough to talk quietly to her even though she wasn’t really able to process much of what he was saying. The sound of his voice was soothing, though. Like Venseth’s presence, it was warm and reassuring and if he was worried (she was sure he must be, because she was worried) she couldn’t hear it on his voice. If it was on his face – or anyones – she couldn’t see it through the haze of exhaustion. It was hard enough to keep her eyes open, never mind focusing on someone.
They spent most of the very early hours trying to turn the baby, issuing commands to her like ‘push now’ as if she had any energy to push. The baby didn’t move though; Indivara could feel him jammed up against her insides at an awkward position that wouldn’t let the little bastard slide out like he was supposed to. One of the healers had given the situation a name, but all Indivara knew was that it was an endless night of pain and exhaustion. If she hadn’t already decided she wasn’t having any more children, this situation would have convinced her.
The winters sun was starting to rise when the Healers – Indivara knew Quennell was there, and Talian, and that Master Healer – moved away from her, all scowling and serious, she glanced up and around for Val, taking a few moments to focus on his face. There were other people in the room, friends, but Indivara focused on her mate, lifting one exhausted hand to tap him lightly on the underside of his chin. She offered a wan, exhausted smile that was barely a twitch of her lips. “Love you,” she whispered, eyes soft and wondering exactly when it was she was actually going to die. She knew she was, honestly. It was just a waiting game. She hoped her body didn’t make her wait too much longer, she was so sick of being in pain. So much pain.
Focusing on Val, Indivara didn’t notice when the Healers came back, or when several Journeymen moved to hold her arms and legs down, leaning heavily on her; she did feel the coolness of numbweed being smoothed over her lower stomach, but it didn’t stop the pain of the next contraction so it didn’t really compute. What she did feel, did notice, and did compute was the sharp drawing of a medical blade across her lower stomach, just above her panty line, and she shrieked in pain, whole body jerking and struggling under the Healers before her eyes rolled and she passed out, flopping with dead weight onto the bed.
A few seconds later, and Quennell stood up tall, holding a screaming, angry baby up. “Girl,” he said firmly, and thrust the infant into the hands of the closest person, content that the child was alive and healthy. Now they had to make sure Indivara stayed that way; the surgical removal of the baby was risky – but as likely as they were to lose her from the surgery, they’d determined they would definitly loose them both if they didn’t.
