another fic whoo
Splendorocity-Verse prompt: Child
She could only do so much for the little girl before she had to go find a pillow of her own and scream into it. Honestly, Nura loved her baby girl to pieces and there was no doubt that if little Natalia Dox were ever to be captured, hurt, or her life threatened in any manner, Mother Nura would tear apart worlds to get her baby back. But moments like these, when little Natty balled her hands into fists and scrunched her face up with wet tears...
...sometimes Nura just wanted to lock herself in a dark room and never emerge to the light of day again.
"Mommy needs a break, Natty," Nura says with exasperation, as she untangles Natty's thin green fingers from her hip. The baby screeches in protest, howling with all the breath and oxygen she has, putting Timber Wolf's sonic howl to shame. A fresh headache mounts atop the already growing migraine. Nura could not move enough to the cradle. She placed Natty inside, bundled the baby in a blanket with the fumbles of a newly mother. Natty latches onto her mother's wrist and yanks and pulls, wailing.
Nura groans. "What is it? Little miss, what's wrong?" She scoops the green bundle of joy (although at the moment, Nura wonders what sprocking idealist came up with that description) into her and out of the cradle, cradling the the tyke in the crook of her arms. Natty's bawling dies down to a wet whimper.
In the newfound low level of volume, Nura is able to sympathize with her child. "You don't me to go, do you?"
Natty's sticky hands grab onto the fabric of Nura's shirt, blue eyes looking up at the woman.
For a moment, Nura thinks back to the woman who is her baby's namesake. The sweet smile, the honest disposition, the set of short blond curls with those dignified brows...
"My little princess...I will never leave you."
She could only do so much for the little girl before she had to go find a pillow of her own and scream into it. Honestly, Nura loved her baby girl to pieces and there was no doubt that if little Natalia Dox were ever to be captured, hurt, or her life threatened in any manner, Mother Nura would tear apart worlds to get her baby back. But moments like these, when little Natty balled her hands into fists and scrunched her face up with wet tears...
...sometimes Nura just wanted to lock herself in a dark room and never emerge to the light of day again.
"Mommy needs a break, Natty," Nura says with exasperation, as she untangles Natty's thin green fingers from her hip. The baby screeches in protest, howling with all the breath and oxygen she has, putting Timber Wolf's sonic howl to shame. A fresh headache mounts atop the already growing migraine. Nura could not move enough to the cradle. She placed Natty inside, bundled the baby in a blanket with the fumbles of a newly mother. Natty latches onto her mother's wrist and yanks and pulls, wailing.
Nura groans. "What is it? Little miss, what's wrong?" She scoops the green bundle of joy (although at the moment, Nura wonders what sprocking idealist came up with that description) into her and out of the cradle, cradling the the tyke in the crook of her arms. Natty's bawling dies down to a wet whimper.
In the newfound low level of volume, Nura is able to sympathize with her child. "You don't me to go, do you?"
Natty's sticky hands grab onto the fabric of Nura's shirt, blue eyes looking up at the woman.
For a moment, Nura thinks back to the woman who is her baby's namesake. The sweet smile, the honest disposition, the set of short blond curls with those dignified brows...
"My little princess...I will never leave you."