• Closed • Ready or not

[Faith Augustin]

18th Cylus, 717. Late in the evening

Padraig was waiting for her, wrapped up against the freezing cold air and Faith felt relieved upon seeing him. She'd just finished work and she had to admit to being relieved to have done so. She felt out of sorts, snippy and just uncomfortable in her skin today. But then, that was hardly a surprise, she considered, resting her hand on her bump. She had continued to expand around the middle since the beginning of the season and, at this point, she wondered if she'd ever see her ankles again. She moved more slowly, aware of the ice and snow and she smiled up at him as she felt his arm wrap around her. She knew what was in that gesture, it was love and protection and steadying, too. Lifting her head to kiss him she could see the opinions all just desperate to fall out of his mouth. She could only admire his restraint, in fairness.

"You don't need to say anything. I spent more of my shift sitting down than I did achieving anything. They've told me I'm not allowed back." Faith looked up at him and added, honestly. "I didn't even argue much. They tried to send me home but I was worried I'd miss you and then, you'd worry when I didn't turn up. You're so cold, I'm sorry. You won't miss this, will you?" She leant her head against his shoulder and pulled herself against him. "When we get back, would you just rub my back? It's been hurting all trial. Not surprising, though, really, considering how far forward my centre of gravity is."

It had been only just over thirty trials since they found out that she was pregnant, so it had been a rollercoaster for both of them. In that time, though, some things about Faith had changed. She certainly cared less about others opinions when being affectionate with him in public and her eating habits had become a frenzy of chaos. One moment, she couldn't eat and that might last for a trial or two where she forced herself to eat what she could for the baby's sake, but then she could so long as it was something specific and often obscure; pickled herring, salted caramels and raw chillies had all made an appearance. She woke up at least twice a night with cramp in her toes or the calves of her legs which had her out of bed and making a noise which could only be described as yowling. Half of the order knew about that, she inevitably woke with a yell.

The other things, of course, only he knew. There were stacks of books on children's stories which she had tried to memorise, she had sobbed when she brought home a book of 'traditional nursery songs' and then realised that she didn't know the tune to any of them, she'd started keeping a journal which she wrote in diligently every trial, recording everything that she could. She didn't tell him why, she knew she didn't need to. She knew nothing of her parents, nothing of her infancy and she wanted this child to know, without a doubt, that it was loved. The copy of the book on childcare which they'd bought was so dogeared that they might have owned it for an arc, but fundamentally, once they had decided that they were keeping this baby Faith had done all she could to make sure that she could be some kind of a mother to it.

Pulling herself close against him, she was happy to start the walk back to the Order, where they could have something to eat and that would least warm him up. The pain in her back was getting worse and Faith stopped, putting both her hands on her back and pressing down. "Sorry. It just hurts a bit and OH!" Much as she had when first she had felt the baby kick, but very much not like that too, Faith clutched at her stomach with one hand and grabbed him with another. "Padraig?" She felt the liquid on her legs as her waters broke and Faith's eyes showed her shock and terror as she realised what that meant. They'd been to lessons, they'd read the books and they'd discussed it all season after all.

"My waters just broke. We need to get home now, the baby's coming." Faith was a disciplined individual and she called on every ounce of training she had here, to keep her voice calm and even. She managed it, too, but her eyes told a very different story as they looked at him. "I need you to help me, please?" Her question was calm, polite even, but then she added, in a voice which sounded child like in its own right. "I'm not ready."

[Padraig]

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Padraig had plenty of opinions these more recent trials, though he, wisely he thought, kept them mostly to himself. Except that his glances, expressions and posture often told the tale in spite of him. And Faith knew him enough to see right through him. He thought she should have stopped working ten trials or more ago. He felt those she worked with should have insisted on it.

On the other hand, he knew it was a distraction for her, just as his experiments were that for him. He'd done them in the room they shared, setting his equipment up on the small desk. It wasn't ideal, but it worked and some ideas were with the baby in mind. Other things not so much. But he didn't mind going out in the cold, and he wasn't about to leave her walking back alone.

"It clears my head and gets me out of the room. I don't mind," he reassured her as he slipped an arm round her middle to keep her steady on a path that could be littered with slick patches here and there.

"Good," he said flatly when she told him they'd instructed her to go home and stay there. And of course he'd rub her back. He'd thought that once she'd started showing her pregnancy, any expansion would happen in a gradual, mostly unnoticeable way. But these past few trials, she'd defied physics and logic somehow, and the whole shape of her had changed dramatically. He might have developed a rash in response.

But she must be exhausted so when she stopped, presumably to catch her wind, so did he. But then she startled him and he looked at her with wide eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?" Padraig asked, alarmed when she grabbed hold and twisted his sleeve. The fright in her eyes when she looked at him, shot straight through him. "What do you mean your waters?" Apparently the topic of waters, had they discussed it, had completely passed him by. Or maybe it was one of those things he'd blocked out.

"It's too early isn't it?" he asked desperately, hopefully. But at the same time he firmed up his hold on her and started steering her towards the Order outpost. Padraig wasn't ready either, but he needed to be the steady force here, he thought. And he gave it his best. "You may not be," he said. "But this baby says different."

It took longer to get to the Order than it ordinarily would. Or at least it felt that way when time was of the essence. But reaching the doors, he pulled them open and dropped any pretense of decorum when he shouted out, "We need help here. Anyone." Surely there was a healer or two in earshot. And if there wasn't he meant to find them as quickly as possible.

[Whisper]

Despite Vri's dismissal of him a couple of trials ago, Aelig had not strayed far from the slavegirl, who had become somewhat like an obsession of his. It amused him how, all those seasons ago, during Vhalar, his attention had been entirely upon the woman's master, Tristan Venora. It was only though this intent that Faith had been drawn into his nefarious scheming with Syroa, who had been all to easy to convince of his plans.

Now, however, Aelig had all but forgotten the little lordling in Rynmere, with his complete focus on the young woman now trying to contain her panic as her waters broke. “Good, it's almost time...” He murmured, though none would hear him speak. The man, Padraig, was mush more reserved, though Aelig could see the lines of worry, lines that had not been there at the beginning of Zi'da. His news had had a terrible toll on the pair, yet not entirely upon their relationship, it seemed.

He followed behind, matching the pace of the couple as they hurried through the streets of Rharne, back to their mundane lodgings. It was not an appropriate place for such a momentous occasion, Aelig felt, but he would not intervene now... now much, at least. Entering the room, the invisible man took up position on one of the chairs in the corner of the room and lounged backwards, interlocking his fingers and watching, a smile playing on his lips.

He would remain with them, hidden and invisible. He would wait to see the final act of his own little play.

[Faith Augustin]

"I know what you're thinking you know. I can see it, hear it and taste it. There's no need to hold back." Faith snipped good-naturedly at him as he said that it was good she'd been told not to come back. "I know how reticent you are to put forward an opinion of any kind, in case I maul you, or deliberately roll over in bed and flatten you or something." She smiled up at him and hugged him, as well as she could. "It could happen you know. I've had nightmares just lately about waking up next to a pancake with beautiful eyes. Oh, Immortals, that's a horrible image. I'm sorry. Don't let me flatten you." It was a real worry to her suddenly that she might.

But the pain and the rushing of water meant only one thing and as Faith looked at Padraig she saw his expression and, as she did, her heart went to him. "Ohhhh, it's early, yes. But, it's coming. Oh, ow. This is so embarrassing in the middle of the street. Padraig? I don't know what to do." He, of course, did and his arm around her back steadied her, his hand holding her steady and they walked to the Order. She had to stop when a contraction came and hold on to him, trying to breathe the way that she'd been taught, they'd been taught. Faith loved to learn, but it had all fled from her in the moments that the pain started. She remembered what Mattieus had told her, that she had to breathe through them. This she did, but she did it holding on to Padraig, clutching his forearms and looking into his eyes. She could stay calm then.

When they got to the Order, his shout brought the attention of a medic, an Ithecal fellow who slithered up to them and smiled a beaming smile. Mattieus. "Well, this is early. Sure it's the real thing?" He asked and Faith turned on him with a look which caused him to lift up his hands and laugh. "I guess it is then. Come on you, lets get you into bed. Are you staying with her?" Mattieus asked Padraig, before bundling them off to a small room. It was pleasant and clean, as everywhere in the Order was. It was also quite a way from the main bed area. "Alright. Have you got everything packed ready?" Mattieus asked Padraig and Faith nodded.
"It's in a bag, hanging on the back of the door in our room. Please, Padraig, don't leave. I don't need it. Mattieus, can you get it?"
The Ithecal smiled and held his hand out for the key. "I'll have it fetched, Faith. You know, these are the longest sentences she's ever spoken in my presence." He gave Padraig's arm a pat. "You must make her chatty. One bit, I'll be back."

He left them alone, Faith was quite happy to stand and lean on the bed. "He's a good man. I trust him. I'm not going to scream, it'll be alright. Are you alright?" She looked at him with concern in her eyes and her hand reached for his. Straightening up, she shrugged out of her coat and moved to hang it up, offering to take his with her. After a few moments, though, Mattieus came back in and handed the bag with nightgown, towels and all sorts in there to Padraig.
"Good luck with getting her to be still. She ever still with you, because here she's always busy. Come on then, sunshine. You get dressed and into bed and we'll have a look how things are going shall we?" He then exited the room, leaving the job of helping her to Padraig. Mattieus shot Padraig a sympathetic glance as he left, but Faith really didn't have the energy to argue and just did what Padraig told her, not quite sure what she should be doing, in truth.
When they were alone, she looked up at him and, rather than speak, just stepped into his arms. Holding on to him she breathed in. "If I can't, will you do it for me?" she asked with a small smile. She was terrified, but she was utilising every ounce of discipline she had and she had a lot. So, by the time Mattieus came back in and things were really just about to kick off, she was wearing the voluminous nightgown he had seen before, her hair was tied back and she was sitting in bed, legs sticking out in front of her "teapot style" as she called it.

The next few breaks, or maybe they were trills, were the strangest ones of Faith's life. Moments of calm, of resting between each contraction were punctuated with the kind of pain which she had never experienced before. She breathed through each one, not yelling, not screaming or swearing. She let out a low moan now and then, but the sweat on her brow and the pallor of her skin told much more of the pain she was in as, of course, did her eyes. Every contraction she prayed and her prayers were heartfelt. To Famula, to Vri. That their child be safe, their child be long lived and that they know love all their life. She closed her eyes and leant against Padraig and she prayed, her whispered prayers in his earshot, no doubt. She'd never meant them more. She dedicated this, this experience to Famula and her service. This child and the love she bore it to Vri. Whatever she did, she did in service to them and she had faith. Unshakeable and absolute. This was their child to raise and they would love it completely. She prayed it aloud and believed it completely, leaning exhausted in Padraig's arms.

For once, during the process, her childhood stood her in good stead and she endured the pain the best she could; when she could not endure it any more she used every technique she had ever been taught or had beaten into her to not cry out. She paced for a while, she lay whilst he rubbed her back, but mostly she sat and she made sure that she always had her hands in front of her. She had to put it all somewhere, after all. Every break, Mattieus came in and examined her, every break for ten breaks he told her not yet. Eleven full breaks later, by which time she was exhausted already, Mattieus smiled at her and Padraig, delight evident on his face.
"Excellent. I'd say we're ready to start this now! Are you ready to push?" It was funny, he seemed to be asking Padraig as much as he was asking her.

[Padraig]

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"Don't be ridiculous," Padraig said dryly when she worried she'd flatten him in the night. "My hard outer shell would protect me." As for knowing or not knowing, with one arm round her middle and the other supporting her own arm as they went, he shook his head and forged steadily ahead while trying to avoid the icy slick patches on the frozen ground. "I'm not sure you need to. I think nature will fill in the rest. Women have been doing this for centuries."

It helped somehow to maintain his own semblance of calm, by taking a steadying role for Faith's sake. He wasn't sure how much was real or pretending, but it did her no good for him to panic along with her. "In through the nose, out through the mouth, remember?" Mattieus was a little too cheery for his taste, though Padraig appreciated the effort. "Yes, I'm staying with her," he said. And the key, he handed over once they were installed in the small room.

A rare moment of levity emerged when their helper wondered about Padriag's influence on her, and he responded, dryly again, "She's a talker, yes." But when they were left alone, just for a moment and he helped Faith get settled, he told her, "You scream all you like. Raise the roof if you want to. Shock the priestesses with language that'll make them blush. I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He was fine. For the moment at least.

Still, little too cheery. But when he was handed the gown, he helped Faith get into it and climb onto the bed. "I'm not sure it works that way, but I'd do it for you if I could," he assured her. "But I'll be here to do it with you." And then it seemed like it went on forever. The pacing, the struggling, the prayers, the waiting in between. Ultimately, by trial and error Padraig found the place where he could do the most good, and she seemed most comfortable, was for him to climb on the bed and position himself seated with his back at the headboard, with her cradled between his raised knees.

But it was Mattieus who received a withering look when he declared that they were ready to start. "What do you mean, start? What do you think we've been doing for the last dozen breaks?" he asked bluntly.

[Whisper]

Labour was an interesting phenomenon. From all of his wanderings, the arrival of new life into the world had always been described as something beautiful. Mothers, fathers, grandparents... friends. All of them would love an infant, and run every time that horrendous caterwauling would start. It fascinated Aelig, for he could not understand it.

Nothing about the process the little slave girl was going through looked pleasant. Periods of silence, punctuated by the sounds of harsh, slow breathing, were broken by much heavier episodes. In these episodes, Faith would breathe heavily, and each exhale would contain a moan of agony as she clutched at her sides and stomach, rocking back and forth on her bed. Aelig wondered why any woman would ever opt to go through this pain. Was a child really worth this agony?

Faith didn't even have the same length of time to prepare for what was to come. Aelig had given her mere trials to come to terms with her condition, her future. In comparison to what she should have had, it was but a blink of an eye.

Looking at the pair, the Immortal thought that they were both handling it quite well, all things considered. That... disappointed him slightly. A small flourish of his hand caused a knock at the door, which Mattieus, with a huff, hurried over to open. On the other side stood a corporeal - yet not fully solid - illusion of Tristan Venora, the girl's previous master. "Faith?" the illusion murmured, hurrying into the room, "Faith, my darling, I came as soon as I could. I'm so sorry, I never knew. Word only recently reached me." It came to a halt at the foot of the bed, and made no effort to touch Faith, for no real contact would be made, ruining the illusion. "Why did you never tell me, Faith?"

[Faith Augustin]

It had been about six breaks in that Faith had realised something and had turned to look at Padraig with a raised eyebrow. "I'm a talker? Did you really say that?" She smiled as she asked him and she was obviously amused but she did ask, quite genuinely. "Am I really? I didn't know that." Further discussion, though was cut short in the demands of the moment and by the time that the contraction had passed, she'd forgotten to ask any more about it. He could bet on her remembering later, though.

When Mattieus asked them about it starting, though, Faith's expression mirrored Padraig's. What did he mean, start? She was already exhausted and she leaned back against Padraig and closed her eyes momentarily. "Could I have some water, please?" There was a jug of water to the side with glasses and every now and then she took a sip, always asking calmly and politely. She was just lifting the glass to her mouth when there was a knock on the door. Faith stopped, mid drink and she looked at Mattieus with astonishment in her eyes.

Then, of all things, Tristan walked in and Faith looked utterly incredulous. She felt Padraig's entire form tense, wrapped around her as he was and she put her hand on his knee, to calm him. "It's alright, Padraig, stay calm..." She was sitting on the bed, leaning against him and she was amazed at how very calm she was. She was, she would have sworn to everything she held dear, completely calm. A sea of calm as Tristan asked why she hadn't told him.

"Because it's none of your business!! It's not your baby!! I'm not your slave!! GET OUT GET OUT!!" As she screamed the last almost incoherently, she flung the glass full force. It passed right through him and shattered into a thousand pieces against the wall, causing Mattieus to have to dodge out of the way. At the physical contact, 'Tristan' turned into a grey-blue mist and dissipated. Faith clutched at her stomach and let out a yell of pure, unadulterated fury. She got up off the bed and she did it faster than she had moved since Vri had revealed this pregnancy, her emotions spurring her on.

She turned to Mattieus and her expression was furious. Twin spots of colour flushed on her cheeks as she yelled at him. "I'm giving birth in here! So you let a stranger in? What's the matter with you! I'm doing my best here! This isn't fair and it isn't right!!!" She turned to Padraig and buried her head into his shoulder trying to breathe properly as the urge to push hit her. She spoke through gritted teeth, her voice ragged and scared "Padraig, this baby is coming and he's here, isn't he? I don't care as long as you're here. You're the only one I trust. Lock the door, just the three of us," frankly, just the two of them would be better as far as she was concerned. Mattieus had just behaved abominably and entirely unprofessionally and every bit of trust in him had gone, but she wouldn't ask that of Padraig. She lifted her head and looked at him, though, knowing how hard this all was on him, as much if not more so than her. Of all things, she raised a hand and stroked his cheek, whispering to him.

Cursing herself for the tears she couldn't stop, she whispered to him. "I just want our baby to be free and loved, Padraig. Like I am." He would understand that, she knew, in a way that no one else alive would. Faith prayed fervently to Vri, the Immortal of love, that their child be allowed to live in love. Because this was happening now and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. She looked at him and wished fervently that it was just the two of them in there. "I love you. Only you and always you. So long as we're together, by Vri, Padraig I can do this and nothing that deceitful loser does, nothing he will ever do can break that. He can't break us. Help me bring our baby safe into the world?" That was what they had to do now and she needed him to take control of this situation, whichever way he saw fit.

Off Topic

Mod input on what happened with "Tristan"

[Padraig]

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"You are. And I love you all the more for it," Padraig said, when she asked if she was really a talker. Compared to him, she was. Maybe because it came to her naturally, and her very nature had simply been repressed and molded to the contrary over arcs and arcs of bondage. Or maybe she was only making up for last time, saying those things that hadn't gotten said during those long times of silence. But he spoke the truth. Whatever the reason, it was one of the many things he loved about her.

Fortunately, the jug and the glasses were in easy reach, considering his position on the bed behind her. So he poured a glass, and held it for her to help prevent a spill on the sheets, the floor or her, should another wave of anguish take over.

If he could have taken it all on for her, he would have. In a heartbeat. But he couldn't, and could only be here and hope that once she held the babe in her arms, all the struggle and pain, and what they'd been put through by others, another in particular, would be nothing but a distant memory then.

For Padraig, it was all the more reason to adopt a dim view of the Immortals, who simply believed it was their right to slip in and out of mortal lives and create whatever chaos they pleased, whenever they pleased. And it was true they didn't lack the power to do it. To use and manipulate. But so long as Faith had, well, faith in a select few and thought better of them, then Padraig could only hope that they proved themselves worthy of her devotion. And for that, he hoped her prayers reached the ears of those for whom they were intended.

Now why Mattieus would answer a knock on the door when the only person who really needed him then was inside the room, Padraig couldn't begin to guess. But what happened then, wasn't unexpected. He tensed, yes, but he didn't pull himself out from behind Faith. And in a moment of restraint, hard fought for in that instance, he recognized it for what it was. An illusion. Maybe Faith recognized it too, but she needed that moment to lash out. If not at Tristan directly, then at the illusionist behind him.

There was no doubt in Padraig's mind that he was there. And he had a hard time believing that barring the door would keep the Immortal out. And the question remained, could he help her bring their babe into the world without Mattieus there? He'd read the books, he'd read about how it was done even when he hadn't wanted to. But he'd also read about how many things could go wrong.

Once he'd tried to run an immortal through with his sword. It occurred to him now, as he pulled himself off the bed, that he'd wasted his blade on the wrong one. "Mattieus, lock the door. No one else is to come in here. Anyone knocks, you ignore them." He wasn't naive enough to think it would prevent more mischief, bu the gesture might do her some good. "You'll have to talk me through this," he said. "And if I need you, then?" he added, assuming he needn't say any more than that.

[Faith Augustin]

When Faith looked back on those breaks, she would wonder at how Padraig remained so calm, before immediately realising that he had done it because she needed him to. As she threw the glass at Tristan, as she shouted at Mattieus, she realised that she was releasing frustration and anger which had been building up since Aelig had first appeared to them. She hadn't realised that it was an illusion until Tristan disappeared, but as soon as he did, she wasn't surprised.

The emotions that she felt she could not easily quantify and did not choose to examine just in that moment. Maybe later, she thought as she turned and found what comfort she could in Padraig's arms. She was angry beyond reason and she didn't want her child, their child to come into the world this way. So she looked at him and she calmed herself, regulating her breathing and just focusing on what was important. "You and me and us," she whispered, smiled and nodded. She could do it.

Mattieus raised his hands in defence, accepting the yelling, but he answered and he spoke to them both. "I didn't let him in, he was just, in here. I assumed the knock was an emergency, I wouldn't let him in. Faith, you know me better than that." It was true, in fairness, she did. The Tristan that he let in had been an illusion and how could he stop that? Faith breathed in through her nose and tightened her arm around Padraig as she thought for a few trill.
"I'm sorry, Mattieus. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry." She was trying her best to be a reasonable human being, she really was but she just wanted him to go away. She wanted them all to just go away and leave the two of them alone. This was all just too much.

Padraig, though, was what made the decision for her. He stepped up, stepped forward and just was ready to do what she wanted him to do. It would terrify him she was sure but he didn't show a bit of it. Every bit of anxiety, frustration and worry fled at that as he spoke so calmly to Mattieus. When she looked at the Ithecal though, she felt it all start to return. Closing her eyes against the pain in her abdomen, Faith knew that she had to get on with this and do so now. "It's not Mattieus' fault but you're the only one I trust, Padraig. I need to block it out and I can only do that with you. Are you sure?" She tried to adopt a questioning look, but instead she clutched on to him as she let out a low groan of pain.

"Come on you, up on the bed," Mattieus said, all business like and calm again. He looked at Padraig, as though checking it was alright with him. "Alright, now. This is the pushing bit. It's the last stage, at the end of this you'll hold your baby in your arms, it will all be worth it. I know you're tired." Faith shook her head, stubbornness and determination combining to let him know that no, thank you, she wasn't tired. "Well, good for you. I am. I'm sure he is too. So, push now, when your body tells you to."

For a surreal fourty minute period, Mattieus talked Padraig through what he needed to know in his current position. He realised that he could be no use any other way, so the Ithecal took position in front of the door, almost as a guard. Faith, meanwhile, did what she needed to and listened to what Padraig said, focusing on him and nowhere else. As the contractions grew more intense and closer together, so her focus remained on him and her job in this. She ignored everything else, resting back between each bout of pushing as well as she could until Mattieus said, in his usual chipper tone. "This one, I'd say."

He'd been talking Padraig through it every step of the way but Faith genuinely just didn't hear him, focusing on her part in this to the exclusion of everything. She listened to what her body told her she had to do, to Padraig and to nothing else. It was the only way that she could block out the fear she felt that Aelig wasn't done messing with them yet.

[Padraig]

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Padraig remained calm and focused in the thick of it. Chances were, once it was all said and done, his blood stopped pounding the way it was and he had time to sit back and think on, he might just panic then. There must be some biological reason behind it all. But all that was important now was to get through it, and to take care of Faith.

He'd known that Tristan was an illusion. Aelig had already shown himself to be a great manipulator. But he suspected that even in the throes of it, Faith had realized it to. But she needed to lash out at the illusion. Through it, she lashed out at the Immortal himself. He felt badly for Mattieus. They'd both snapped at the man in their own way.

Then again, the man was probably accustomed to being targeted by any number of emotions, if he'd assisted in many births. The book that Padraig had barely looked at but had, some, seemed to suggest that emotional outbursts on the parts of all parties were somewhat the norm.

"I'm sure," he told her as he took up the catcher's position where she could see him clearly. Not to say he was pleased with the predicament. But if that's where she needed him, then that's where he'd be. "Just look at me and focus. We'll get through it together."

But then it seemed to go on forever. Or at least to Padraig's reckoning it did. How many breaks had it been? Was it normal? "How much longer?" he asked at some point. Then this one...what? This push? For her sake, he looked up at her and smiled. "One more then. Just one more," he said, hoping to lend her, in her exhaustion, what strength he could.