Vignette: Happy Fourth, Palia
Who: Palia, P'draig
When: 2/11/18
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Palia's fourth birthday.
The sun was slowly going down, a big red ball hovering on the horizon just a little bit above the golden stretch of water visible from the small beach where Paddy had set up the party. His mother had come down with his sisters and Remi and Vrys had come with Jaivery. Illya had come with her parents too, though that had kind of put a little bit of a damper on some of the proceedings.
They'd all gone home now, the baskets all packed up and and it was just him and Palia on the beach. He sat just a little up from the surfline, white foam tickling his toes while he watched her skipping from wave to wave, laughing and bending to collect white shells from the dark embrace of the sand.
Four. Four turns old and not a baby anymore at all. She was really a kid in her own right now, his little girl, his happy, dancing, laughing girl. He remembered when she was born, how she'd been so frail, so sickly and how very real the possibility of losing her had been. She'd clung to life with all the strength in her tiny little body and in the end, she'd recovered, gotten well and slowly but surely, grown strong enough until he no longer jumped every time she coughed or sighed in her sleep as he carried her around strapped to his chest day in and day out. And now there she stood, fleeing the surf, coming towards him with her face wreathed in smiles and the traces of jam from her cake, hair flying in wild, free curls as she tossed herself into his arms.
P'draig held her close for as long as she let him, smiling into the wild sandy, jammy mess of her hair. Palia giggled and stepped back, gravely touched his nose with one finger then reached for his hand and pulled it up and open to lay her collected treasures in his palm. "Keep these for me Papa." And she was off again, twirling the bright rainbow colors of her skirt to and fro like some little sprite who'd just washed up out of the sea. He looked down at the shells she'd put in his hand and picked each one up in turn. One was almost all white, just faintly touched with pink, another was a complex series of chambers, purple and orange and green bleeding into each other. There were a couple of little white 'bead' shapes too and a bit of driftwood, curling in on itself. With a little wry grin he carefully arranged these in one of his shoes and crossed his arms back atop his knees, looked out at the sunset.
The breeze ruffled his hair and he breathed in and out slowly, just enjoying the peace of the moment after all of the earlier hubbub. He'd cooked of course, made good things to eat and laid them out picnic style. Illya's mother had pursed her lips at most of the selections, saying that they 'weren't bad'. He hadn't bothered to point out that she'd had third helpings of everything. Illya had been mostly cordial though there'd been the odd remark or two that he'd just let roll off. He tried to be kind to her, to be nice, to show her he still cared about her, but she just, wouldn't let him in. She was reserved, passably fond with her daughter and Palia was polite to Illya, called her 'mother' but notably not 'Mama'. She still called Miara that sometimes when they visited. Mostly he could tell that Palia was pretty aware of the somewhat strained situation between her parents but that she handled it as well as she could. His heart ached a little for her, that she'd never know what it was like to have a mother like his own, even if Emilly gave Palia the same kind of love he remembered from when he was a child.
Still, he was proud of her, even so young, for handling herself so well.
She was running a little bit far away down the beach towards where the rocks marched out into the sea and P'draig knew there was an undertow there. He pushed up to his feet and chased after her, making his voice big for "I'm gonna gitcha!" Palia shrieked with laughter as they ran to and fro, dodging this way and that in a rule-less came of catch-as-catch-can. Eventually she let him win and he hauled her up over his shoulder, tickling her ribs as he marched back up to their blanket and plopped down with her wriggling in his lap. She settled quickly and leaned back against him, all snuggled into his chest. They sat quietly then, watching the sun go down together.
"Why does the sun go to bed in the ocean?" Palia wondered in her little, serious voice. "If we could breathe underwater, I think it'd be fun to sleep in the sea," Paddy answered thoughtfully. "Sort of like being rocked in an endless cradle, don't you think?" Palia just smiled and pushed back into the circle of his arms more. "Yes. That sounds nice," she said softly, curling her hand around two of his fingers and going quiet. The breeze picked up, night's coolness sweeping through, ruffling the water and goosebumps walked up along Paddy's bare arms. He tilted his head down to look at Palia and saw that she'd fallen asleep. Smiling he bent to kiss the top of her head. It had been a long but fun day. He was glad she'd get a good night's sleep in.
The brownrider sat there for a while longer until the last of the sun was gone and only ruddy twilight remained. Then he curled his arms around Palia, lifted her up effortlessly and bundled her carefully onto Jekzith's back, clipped into safeties. It only took a few moments to hook the baskets and things to his straps. He slung his shoes over a neckridge by the laces, leaving her treasures inside and they glided up and away, back to the Weyr. At home he tucked her into her little bed in the alcove in the weyr he shared with Mic. The gear was unloaded and tidied, leftovers set aside to share in the kitchen. The shells he took out of his shoe and lined up one at a time along the top of her dresser, mementoes of a happy birthday. Before drawing her curtain for the night, he bent to kiss her cheek again, gently. "Happy birthday, sweetie," he murmured to her sleeping ear, then backed away to let her sleep the sweet dreams of four turns.
When: 2/11/18
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Palia's fourth birthday.
The sun was slowly going down, a big red ball hovering on the horizon just a little bit above the golden stretch of water visible from the small beach where Paddy had set up the party. His mother had come down with his sisters and Remi and Vrys had come with Jaivery. Illya had come with her parents too, though that had kind of put a little bit of a damper on some of the proceedings.
They'd all gone home now, the baskets all packed up and and it was just him and Palia on the beach. He sat just a little up from the surfline, white foam tickling his toes while he watched her skipping from wave to wave, laughing and bending to collect white shells from the dark embrace of the sand.
Four. Four turns old and not a baby anymore at all. She was really a kid in her own right now, his little girl, his happy, dancing, laughing girl. He remembered when she was born, how she'd been so frail, so sickly and how very real the possibility of losing her had been. She'd clung to life with all the strength in her tiny little body and in the end, she'd recovered, gotten well and slowly but surely, grown strong enough until he no longer jumped every time she coughed or sighed in her sleep as he carried her around strapped to his chest day in and day out. And now there she stood, fleeing the surf, coming towards him with her face wreathed in smiles and the traces of jam from her cake, hair flying in wild, free curls as she tossed herself into his arms.
P'draig held her close for as long as she let him, smiling into the wild sandy, jammy mess of her hair. Palia giggled and stepped back, gravely touched his nose with one finger then reached for his hand and pulled it up and open to lay her collected treasures in his palm. "Keep these for me Papa." And she was off again, twirling the bright rainbow colors of her skirt to and fro like some little sprite who'd just washed up out of the sea. He looked down at the shells she'd put in his hand and picked each one up in turn. One was almost all white, just faintly touched with pink, another was a complex series of chambers, purple and orange and green bleeding into each other. There were a couple of little white 'bead' shapes too and a bit of driftwood, curling in on itself. With a little wry grin he carefully arranged these in one of his shoes and crossed his arms back atop his knees, looked out at the sunset.
The breeze ruffled his hair and he breathed in and out slowly, just enjoying the peace of the moment after all of the earlier hubbub. He'd cooked of course, made good things to eat and laid them out picnic style. Illya's mother had pursed her lips at most of the selections, saying that they 'weren't bad'. He hadn't bothered to point out that she'd had third helpings of everything. Illya had been mostly cordial though there'd been the odd remark or two that he'd just let roll off. He tried to be kind to her, to be nice, to show her he still cared about her, but she just, wouldn't let him in. She was reserved, passably fond with her daughter and Palia was polite to Illya, called her 'mother' but notably not 'Mama'. She still called Miara that sometimes when they visited. Mostly he could tell that Palia was pretty aware of the somewhat strained situation between her parents but that she handled it as well as she could. His heart ached a little for her, that she'd never know what it was like to have a mother like his own, even if Emilly gave Palia the same kind of love he remembered from when he was a child.
Still, he was proud of her, even so young, for handling herself so well.
She was running a little bit far away down the beach towards where the rocks marched out into the sea and P'draig knew there was an undertow there. He pushed up to his feet and chased after her, making his voice big for "I'm gonna gitcha!" Palia shrieked with laughter as they ran to and fro, dodging this way and that in a rule-less came of catch-as-catch-can. Eventually she let him win and he hauled her up over his shoulder, tickling her ribs as he marched back up to their blanket and plopped down with her wriggling in his lap. She settled quickly and leaned back against him, all snuggled into his chest. They sat quietly then, watching the sun go down together.
"Why does the sun go to bed in the ocean?" Palia wondered in her little, serious voice. "If we could breathe underwater, I think it'd be fun to sleep in the sea," Paddy answered thoughtfully. "Sort of like being rocked in an endless cradle, don't you think?" Palia just smiled and pushed back into the circle of his arms more. "Yes. That sounds nice," she said softly, curling her hand around two of his fingers and going quiet. The breeze picked up, night's coolness sweeping through, ruffling the water and goosebumps walked up along Paddy's bare arms. He tilted his head down to look at Palia and saw that she'd fallen asleep. Smiling he bent to kiss the top of her head. It had been a long but fun day. He was glad she'd get a good night's sleep in.
The brownrider sat there for a while longer until the last of the sun was gone and only ruddy twilight remained. Then he curled his arms around Palia, lifted her up effortlessly and bundled her carefully onto Jekzith's back, clipped into safeties. It only took a few moments to hook the baskets and things to his straps. He slung his shoes over a neckridge by the laces, leaving her treasures inside and they glided up and away, back to the Weyr. At home he tucked her into her little bed in the alcove in the weyr he shared with Mic. The gear was unloaded and tidied, leftovers set aside to share in the kitchen. The shells he took out of his shoe and lined up one at a time along the top of her dresser, mementoes of a happy birthday. Before drawing her curtain for the night, he bent to kiss her cheek again, gently. "Happy birthday, sweetie," he murmured to her sleeping ear, then backed away to let her sleep the sweet dreams of four turns.