Post by Hiko on Mar 25, 2018 19:22:54 GMT -5
Set a few months down the road.
Today was a trial.
Could she spend time - real, quality time - with Zaelin and not hate it, the child, or herself?
Mollin had been nervous at the idea of this attempt, but it had to be done. She supposed she could have just left Zaelin to the creche with her foster mother, but she was likely too holdbound to completely give up the notion of at least appearing in her child's life. Besides, she'd made that promise to A'zael that the girl would have both parents. She was a woman of her word, if nothing else.
And so, they had made a small picnic together, in the corner of the commons room, out of the way of others. There had been other attempts, of course, but most were interrupted, or involved company. This... This was new terrain, and Mollin was terrified.
They sat on a rough-spun blanket, with parchment paper holding separated pieces of a citron, a roll, and some cut carrots, alongside a canteen of water. For Mollin's part, she hoped Zaelin could eat any of what she'd gathered. Did she need to mash it up? Could children her age eat this and not choke? The blue rider was at a loss.
Well, anyway. It seemed to be going well enough; Zaelin was immersed in a set of blocks, giving Mollin the peace of mind to read.
The peace lasted about ten minutes.
“Mama.” Zaelin grabbed impotently in the air as Mollin sat cross-legged on the floor, casually reading from her hide-bound book. She moved the book from focus and frowned at the child.
“What do you want?” she asked, though she was pleased to note there was no irritation in her voice.
“Up!” The girl made her little grabby hands gesture again, and Mollin actually chuckled. At her shoulder, Plummet creeled. The little brown was too pleased to be in the child's company, and Mollin had no doubt he had been trying to get Zaelin's attention while the blue rider read.
Setting the book down, and careful not to disrupt the building blocks Zaelin had previously been playing with (for the girl became distraught when her “Weyr” was destroyed), she picked the child up. Immediately, Zaelin hooked her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face in the blue rider's shoulder, hugging her. Mollin never knew what to do when this happened. Hug back? What if she broke her? Plummet chirped in her ear encouragingly. She gave the girl a light squeeze and moved to let her back down, but she clung fast to her neck.
“Mama,” she murmured at the crook of the woman's shoulder, “No go.”
“I'm not going anywhere,” Mollin replied softly, “But you're heavy. Sit in my lap, and I'll read to you.”
The thought of such an interaction with her mother must have been enticing, for the girl slid from her neck and into her lap. Once settled, Plummet curled up on Zaelin's leg, creeling happily as the girl stroked his hide.
“Plum,” she giggled. “Mama Plum.”
“Mama Plum. Sure.” Mollin was grateful she'd brought a storybook; it had been one of the few things she'd asked for from home when writing her sister, but it seemed to please the child in her lap, so Mollin had brought it along in case the girl grew bored with the blocks. Supposedly, the stories dated back to the Ancients' days, but they were folktales all the same. Still, she'd always loved the daring tales of the brave warriors and wicked villains when she was younger, and had hoped the same could be said of her daughter.
Before starting her favorite tale, she gingerly opened the parchment on the blanket with one hand, and offered a piece of citron to the child in her lap. Zaelin sucked on it obediently, and Mollin began reading.
“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a man and his wife, expecting a child. The wife fell ill, and in hopes of finding a cure, the man stole into a strange healer's garden and took the healer's prized cabbage.
“Soon,the wife began feeling better and not long after, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.” Mollin paused, watching Zaelin make her little grabby hand motion toward the pile of citron slices.
“Use your words, Zae.”
“Mama!”
“Mama what?”
"Mbbbfgh."
“That's not a word. Do you want another slice?”
The girl nodded.
“Then say please.”
“Pee.”
“Please.”
“Pee!”
Well, she was trying. Mollin grabbed another slice and offered it to the girl, who immediately crammed it into her mouth.
“Do you want me to keep reading?”
Zaelin nodded, mouth too full to attempt to say anything.
Today was a trial.
Could she spend time - real, quality time - with Zaelin and not hate it, the child, or herself?
Mollin had been nervous at the idea of this attempt, but it had to be done. She supposed she could have just left Zaelin to the creche with her foster mother, but she was likely too holdbound to completely give up the notion of at least appearing in her child's life. Besides, she'd made that promise to A'zael that the girl would have both parents. She was a woman of her word, if nothing else.
And so, they had made a small picnic together, in the corner of the commons room, out of the way of others. There had been other attempts, of course, but most were interrupted, or involved company. This... This was new terrain, and Mollin was terrified.
They sat on a rough-spun blanket, with parchment paper holding separated pieces of a citron, a roll, and some cut carrots, alongside a canteen of water. For Mollin's part, she hoped Zaelin could eat any of what she'd gathered. Did she need to mash it up? Could children her age eat this and not choke? The blue rider was at a loss.
Well, anyway. It seemed to be going well enough; Zaelin was immersed in a set of blocks, giving Mollin the peace of mind to read.
The peace lasted about ten minutes.
“Mama.” Zaelin grabbed impotently in the air as Mollin sat cross-legged on the floor, casually reading from her hide-bound book. She moved the book from focus and frowned at the child.
“What do you want?” she asked, though she was pleased to note there was no irritation in her voice.
“Up!” The girl made her little grabby hands gesture again, and Mollin actually chuckled. At her shoulder, Plummet creeled. The little brown was too pleased to be in the child's company, and Mollin had no doubt he had been trying to get Zaelin's attention while the blue rider read.
Setting the book down, and careful not to disrupt the building blocks Zaelin had previously been playing with (for the girl became distraught when her “Weyr” was destroyed), she picked the child up. Immediately, Zaelin hooked her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face in the blue rider's shoulder, hugging her. Mollin never knew what to do when this happened. Hug back? What if she broke her? Plummet chirped in her ear encouragingly. She gave the girl a light squeeze and moved to let her back down, but she clung fast to her neck.
“Mama,” she murmured at the crook of the woman's shoulder, “No go.”
“I'm not going anywhere,” Mollin replied softly, “But you're heavy. Sit in my lap, and I'll read to you.”
The thought of such an interaction with her mother must have been enticing, for the girl slid from her neck and into her lap. Once settled, Plummet curled up on Zaelin's leg, creeling happily as the girl stroked his hide.
“Plum,” she giggled. “Mama Plum.”
“Mama Plum. Sure.” Mollin was grateful she'd brought a storybook; it had been one of the few things she'd asked for from home when writing her sister, but it seemed to please the child in her lap, so Mollin had brought it along in case the girl grew bored with the blocks. Supposedly, the stories dated back to the Ancients' days, but they were folktales all the same. Still, she'd always loved the daring tales of the brave warriors and wicked villains when she was younger, and had hoped the same could be said of her daughter.
Before starting her favorite tale, she gingerly opened the parchment on the blanket with one hand, and offered a piece of citron to the child in her lap. Zaelin sucked on it obediently, and Mollin began reading.
“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a man and his wife, expecting a child. The wife fell ill, and in hopes of finding a cure, the man stole into a strange healer's garden and took the healer's prized cabbage.
“Soon,the wife began feeling better and not long after, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.” Mollin paused, watching Zaelin make her little grabby hand motion toward the pile of citron slices.
“Use your words, Zae.”
“Mama!”
“Mama what?”
"Mbbbfgh."
“That's not a word. Do you want another slice?”
The girl nodded.
“Then say please.”
“Pee.”
“Please.”
“Pee!”
Well, she was trying. Mollin grabbed another slice and offered it to the girl, who immediately crammed it into her mouth.
“Do you want me to keep reading?”
Zaelin nodded, mouth too full to attempt to say anything.
