Moira Coombs (
chasingtwisters) wrote2015-08-07 03:18 pm
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And baby makes two. [Open for all; tw for mentions of birth but nothing graphic]
Moira wakes up in the middle of Thursday night with severe pain and the certainty that she's in labor. Her maternal and witch instincts come together as one to tell her so. She spends a few minutes freaking out before she has the sense to call her midwife, a local witch she met through one of her customers soon after she remembered herself. Lila, prompt as ever, arrives nearly thirty seconds after Moira hangs up, teleporting into her living room as they agreed upon.
She spends hours in labor, clutching at the sides of her tub as Lila helps her through it, with magical and comforting words both. Above all else, Moira is terrified. Terrified that she'll be an awful mother; terrified at the sorts of powers her daughter will inherit. Terrified that anyone might try to harm her daughter because of who she is and where she comes from. It sends shudders running through her just as much as the pain does.
"You're almost there," Lila shouts at her. "Come on, girl. Push!"
---
Now the middle of Friday afternoon, Moira sits on her porch, cradling her beautiful daughter in her arms, bundled up in a lilac blanket and dozing. She's texted family and friends, of course, and she's waiting to see who shows up. Moira can't bring herself to look away; her daughter is so precious and small. She's perfect. She's still worried, of course. But more than that, Moira is entirely overcome. She has a daughter. A beautiful, wonderful daughter. And she loves her the way she's never loved anyone else before. She knows that deep in her heart.
"Welcome to the world, Bronwyn Rose Coombs," she whispers for what feels like the millionth time that day.
[ooc: Moira's daughter, Bronwyn Rose! For those curious, this is what Bronwyn looks like. Feel free to have Moira texted your pup if they're close, or to see her on the porch with Bronwyn! Open to all!]
She spends hours in labor, clutching at the sides of her tub as Lila helps her through it, with magical and comforting words both. Above all else, Moira is terrified. Terrified that she'll be an awful mother; terrified at the sorts of powers her daughter will inherit. Terrified that anyone might try to harm her daughter because of who she is and where she comes from. It sends shudders running through her just as much as the pain does.
"You're almost there," Lila shouts at her. "Come on, girl. Push!"
Now the middle of Friday afternoon, Moira sits on her porch, cradling her beautiful daughter in her arms, bundled up in a lilac blanket and dozing. She's texted family and friends, of course, and she's waiting to see who shows up. Moira can't bring herself to look away; her daughter is so precious and small. She's perfect. She's still worried, of course. But more than that, Moira is entirely overcome. She has a daughter. A beautiful, wonderful daughter. And she loves her the way she's never loved anyone else before. She knows that deep in her heart.
"Welcome to the world, Bronwyn Rose Coombs," she whispers for what feels like the millionth time that day.
[ooc: Moira's daughter, Bronwyn Rose! For those curious, this is what Bronwyn looks like. Feel free to have Moira texted your pup if they're close, or to see her on the porch with Bronwyn! Open to all!]
no subject
She was unsure if the Coombs family had had a Bronwyn before, Aoife would have to look it up. It definitely wasn't a name of the recent generations. It was a lovely name, one you could easily shorten in endearment, and something that would come with a spelled explanation throughout her life. Aoife knew from experience.
Aoife had hoped for more people present. There was Moira, and there was the child. No-one else, not visibly, anyway. She should have called Amelie, Cecilia, Fabrice, even. She should have waited another day, maybe two. She should have brought Thor, for comfort.
"Hi", she greeted softly, a few steps away from the both of them. "Hello."
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She's unconcerned with the lack of people when Aoife appears. If she happens to only entertain her sister for the day. she's content with that. She feels so at peace, rocking with Bronwyn on her porch and the music of the ocean crashing around them.
"Aoife!" Moira greets, shifting her daughter to wave to her sister. "So how does it feel to be an aunt?"
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"How are you? The both of you? Did everything go well? Are the both of you healthy?"
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She doesn't add that she can sense that Bronwyn is a powerful witch in her own right already; that's a conversation better put off until later.
"How have you been, Aoife? How's Thor?"
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"I didn't bring Thor because I wasn't show how he would react to the child. Or you to him. Or she to him." A giggle escapes her. "Coombs can be quite hostile when surprised, so I heard. And I don't even want to know about any raw force she may carry. Was the fath-" And there she is, overstepping.
"Everything's alright with us. This is about you and your daughter now, Moira." She sits down on the edge of the rocking chair. "The new life's path you stepped onto today."
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"Hostile is one way of putting it," she nods. She hears the interrupted question and glances at Aoife. For once, she doesn't feel provoked by such a question. "Her father was a witch, too, yeah. A powerful one. She's going to be a force of nature, my girl."
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She sits upright again, keeping her eyes on the edge of the garden. "You had his tongue. Still do, probably. You never really cared about such a thing, but I do honestly think you will have to censore yourself the first few years. Maybe not because your daughter will recognize the words, but might be scared by of the tone that accompanies those words." Why was she talking about language when she wanted to reminisce some more, hear about Moira's life away from her?
"There are plenty of things that she should definitely inherit from you", she says instead.
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There's something brewing underneath her surface though, and Aoife tries to find the right words but her mouth intervenes, even though she knows that she has to weigh every word around her sister. Around this sister. "Why don't the two of you stay at the house for a while?", she blurts out. "You wouldn't have to do everything by yourself, Amelie, Thomas and me can get used to our cousin, and - and, the house is big enough to not be in each other's face all the time."
She looks at her hands. "I had plans on airing it out anyway. Make it the Coombs mansion again, instead of ..house of the evil witch. It's not ..never mind. It's not a well thought through idea. You love your cottage."
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He pulled his helmet off after kickstanding the motorcycle and walked up towards the pair.
"You seem to have doubled since is saw you last," he said in greeting.
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"That I did," she says with a brief laugh. She lifts up Bronwyn, currently happily making gurgling noises in her arms, for the man to get a better look. "So this is my better half. Meet Bronwyn Rose Coombs."
She's happy to see Cam again, after their last conversation. It feels good to know she's still capable of making friends in Siren Cove.
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"Thanks," Cam replied with a look back at it. "Rebuilt her from scrap, so she's my pride and joy. And speaking of..."
He trailed off as he approached them and looked down in awe at the baby. "She's so small. It kind of boggles the mind, doesn't it? That any of us start out so tiny?" His eyes went back up to Moira's. "She's beautiful, just like her mommy."
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"I know right?" She says with a grin. "But big things come in small packages, or so the saying goes. And I think she's going to be quite big when she gets older."
"Thank you," she replies with a nervous laugh. "I think she takes after her father, but she's definitely got my eyes."
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That was probably the best reminder Cam could get that this woman had just had her fiance's baby, the fiance that had died before she'd come home. Not a woman he should be calling beautiful. Wrong time, wrong place. But maybe someday.
He looked from the baby to the woman and nodded. "She does at that. How are you feeling? Is there anything you need?"
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"I'm good, really," she tells him. She holds Bronwyn up for him to get a better look at her. "I've got everything I need right here."