Author: Chevalier, Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2018 3:30 PM, Post Subject: Little Seedling [P/R]

How time had flown! It felt like yesterday when he lifted the veil off of her face in the pale light of the Chapel, and the usually sparse rows were adorned with garlands of cloth flowers. In hindsight, he could understand a fraction of the deity's design for the Machinarium's wings. That Chapel had been placed intentionally, and she perhaps expected to hold weddings in it. In time he was given more freedom to move about, and was no longer confined to the walls of Antikythera. Less than half of his time was spent here, the rest in his estate in Kurayo. When the hour of their child's delivery was near, he found himself the last to know. Rushing to the medical ward, he found the doors barred and sealed. He could hear Nerine on the other side, and sounds of many others running about.

"Nerine? Nerine! Someone open this door!" Pounding on the stone and metal, the Steward's voice responded back. "You need to wait outside Sylvain." "Open the door! What's happening in there? Let me see her!" He shouted. She replied back coolly, "No, I'm not letting you in. She needs to go through the stages of natural delivery, you know that. This all normal, so take a seat outside and wait." A chair materialized from the floor, taking shape into a cushioned armchair beside the medical ward's doors. Still anxious, he tried to force the doors open, only for the hinges and handles to disappear and the doors to merge into a single slab. Pounding his fist one last time, he relented and took the seat provided to him with his head in his hands.

Childbirth was commonly described as a time when a woman had one foot in the grave. Mothers passing away due to childbirth were not uncommon, and though his wife was a Rosenite there was always that possibility. What he feared the most was if she did survive, but the child did not. She would be heartbroken, for a lack of better word to use. Losing a child was more painful to a Rosenite than what other races would experience. Human mothers who suffered a miscarriage often fell into a downward spiral of depression and illness. If such a thing happened to Nerine, her spirit might never recover.

He closed his eyes and dug his nails into his hands as he heard his wife scream, then that scream was followed by silence. The silence was the worst of all. But then…there was a tiny cry. A flurry of commotion began, and he ran to hear. Pushing against it, he almost fell when the slab turned back into a set of doors and unlocked. Rushing in he saw his wife on the bed with Coppelia dabbing her face, while the others were holding something bundled up. "Congratulations Miss Nerine, you have a healthy son." No words could describe how he felt at that moment. As she held their newborn child, he went to her side. She looked up at him, tired but with happiness. "He has your eyes." Looking down at the infant, he saw their boy drift off to sleep. "I think they're more like yours." He said with a smile. Behind them the rest of the staff was cheering, only for someone to tell them to quiet down. Galatea sternly placed a finger to her lips. "No loud noises, you'll wake the child." There were murmurs of disappointment which didn't last long, and soon new living quarters were prepared for them both.

"You have three months off from work, use them well. If I catch you trying to do work on your paternity leave, I'll be breathing down your neck." Shiloh said, pushing him out towards the new wing she had designed for them. She always had an odd way of expressing her sentiments, and by now he had learned to decipher some of her intentions. As Auron would describe, she said nice things in a way that sounded terrible. Entering, he saw Nerine was resting with their son in her arms. Seeing him she smiled, and when he pulled up a chair to take the infant from her she asked him: "What should we name him?" In all that excitement and frenzy, he hadn't given it much thought. "What did you have in mind?" He asked her. Folding her arms, she looked thoughtful. "I've a few ideas, but I'm not sure. Adrian, Marten, or Griffin? I'd like to hear your thoughts as well." Sylvain began going down a list of a few he thought might sound good. "Alright then. Efrain, Marcus, Karel, or Lysandre?"

Nerine reached and gently caressed their son's cheek. "…Lysandre. It's a beautiful name." The child opened his pale blue eyes and cooed, blinking slowly. "Lysandre it is. Do you like your name, little one?" He said to the infant, handing him back to his mother.  

Author: Nerine, Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2018 9:56 PM, Post Subject: Little Seedling [P/R]

Days ago, a storm had raged around the Machinarium. It was stronger than any she had ever seen, and the rumble of thunder echoed through the usually quiet halls. It had been a long night, and everyone was on their feet with a prayer on their lips. Her memories were hazy, and the contractions had grown more frequent with each passing hour. Shiloh's husband was by her bedside, giving her words of encouragement and comfort. But in between the interludes of pain, she hardly remembered. Worried faces were floating above, while beads of sweat were rolling off her face. The sheets of the bed were drenched as the contractions came once again. They were more forceful, much stronger. Soon it would be time. "You need to wait outside Sylvain. No, I'm not letting you in. She needs to…you know that." Shiloh's voice was ringing in the air, and everyone sounded like they were speaking underwater. Another set of contractions, faster and more intense. 

Hours later, a cry of pain rang out through the infirmary ward. Moments later there was an infant's cry, breaking the tension. The sound of doors swinging open and someone quickly striding in led to a hand shaking her lightly. "Has the bleeding stopped? Tie the cord. The warm towel and water basin are there, make sure to wrap well." Someone dabbed her face with a cloth and she was breathing normally again. A pair of gloved hands lowered themselves and handed her a little moving bundle. "Congratulations Miss Nerine, you have a healthy son." She pulled back the blanket and saw him for the first time. Smiling weakly, she looked to her husband who was finally let in. "He has your eyes." His father looked down at him and watched as the infant quieted down. "I think they're more like yours." There was cheering in the room, which was quickly hushed by Galatea. "No loud noises, you'll wake the child." 

She never thought she would see the day where she would hold her own child in her arms. It had been a long journey, moving on from heartbreak and finding her purpose in life again, to regaining her faith in love, to finally becoming a mother. 

Now she was resting in her room that she shared with Sylvain. Her son was sleeping soundly, and the other staff members had come by to give her meals to aid her recovery. Shiloh declared that she and Sylvain had three months off from work, and was working herself into a frenzy with researching whatever she felt would help the new couple. Everyone here was like family and they were all close. The door opened, and she saw Sylvain enter. He pulled up a seat by the bed and took the sleeping child into his own arms. "What should we name him?" She herself had been thinking long before the birth, and wanted to know what he had in mind for their little son. He already had little wisps of light blond hair and curly lashes.