(no subject)
Ygraine had a sword in her hand. Lyanna supposed it was only a matter of time.
"That's it, little pup, my brave and brawny little sweetling," the she-wolf cheered as she watched her babe wave her little wooden tourney sword about, the sliver of wood little more than a sanded, blunted hunk in her babe's chubby fist.
Still not yet walking on her own, though determined enough to make the occasional valiant attempt, Ygraine babbled her glee as she banged the tiny little sword against the floor of the lounge while her mother idly flipped through a few pages of one of those queer mothering books the Compound liked to give her.
Too soft, they were, but worth a moment's attention. Too soft, though she too remained softer in thigh and middle than she would have liked, and her winter had long since melted.
"No, no," Lyanna firmly chided when Ygraine grew tired of battling invisible knights and began mouthing the flat of her would-be blade. "That does not go there," she sharply corrected as she took her daughter's hand, tourney sword and all, into her own and pulled her little fist away.
When Ygraine gave a loud, wet squeal and fussed her disapproval, Lyanna was careful not to smile. A bit of discipline was certainly in order, but it did please her that her child's will should require the tempering.
[OOC: Lyanna + Yiggy are in the level three lounge and making a fair amount of noise. But Ygraine is easily distracted, so your presence will be welcomed! ST/LT appreciated.]
"That's it, little pup, my brave and brawny little sweetling," the she-wolf cheered as she watched her babe wave her little wooden tourney sword about, the sliver of wood little more than a sanded, blunted hunk in her babe's chubby fist.
Still not yet walking on her own, though determined enough to make the occasional valiant attempt, Ygraine babbled her glee as she banged the tiny little sword against the floor of the lounge while her mother idly flipped through a few pages of one of those queer mothering books the Compound liked to give her.
Too soft, they were, but worth a moment's attention. Too soft, though she too remained softer in thigh and middle than she would have liked, and her winter had long since melted.
"No, no," Lyanna firmly chided when Ygraine grew tired of battling invisible knights and began mouthing the flat of her would-be blade. "That does not go there," she sharply corrected as she took her daughter's hand, tourney sword and all, into her own and pulled her little fist away.
When Ygraine gave a loud, wet squeal and fussed her disapproval, Lyanna was careful not to smile. A bit of discipline was certainly in order, but it did please her that her child's will should require the tempering.
[OOC: Lyanna + Yiggy are in the level three lounge and making a fair amount of noise. But Ygraine is easily distracted, so your presence will be welcomed! ST/LT appreciated.]