The Diary of a New Mother

[Andráska Venora]

The Diary of a New Mother

The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside us while we live. - Norman Cousins

• 6th of Cylus, 717
  
  There were three of us around the table - another guy around my age with red hair, and a curvy woman who... I don't know, was maybe in her early thirties? She was beautiful, which I should have known would be my downfall. Never trust a lovely woman with a wicked grin and a strained corset. Lesson learned, I guess. Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Back to my story.
  
  So, it started off with an invitation to play something they call Shoot or Loot. I had never heard of it. Some Rharne game, apparently, and it starts off with everyone putting in an item of value into the center of the table, some cards getting handed out, and some bluffs being made. The person to your right picks a card to combat whatever they think you have in your hand (or whatever lie you tell them), and if they call your bluff, you both have to flip over your card. If your bluff is called and caught, they take your item. If it isn't, well, they have the option of putting another item in, or buying you a drink.
  
  There are some other rules, but let's just jump ahead and get to the point. First, you almost always offer to buy the person a drink because Rharne alcohol is amazing, and second, I got fucked up. It was glorious.
  
  Well, I should have known that I wasn't going to be great at the game. I'm just not the best liar, alright? I looked at my last two cards, debating if I should play the low value and lie, or throw up my best hand. The card in my hand was faded from use, the nine on it nearly unrecognizable and I slipped it onto the table, face down, "Six" I declared, the man beside me smirking. At this point, I was solidly tipsy, and the only reason I said nine, was because somehow, I had turned the thing upside down.
  
  "Loot," he snapped, yanking a card from his hand and throwing it down. Smug bastard definitely looked at the gold I had put on the table, and I flipped over my choice. He had played a five, and when he saw my nine, he cursed. Suddenly distracted by the need to burp and the woman now touching my arm, I was slow to realize I had won the round.
  
  "Ha!" I finally yelled, sitting forward and looking to the table to see what he would offer. His last item had been taken by Kara (the woman, remember?), and he frowned, "What's my gift?" I grinned.
  
  "I don't have any more gold," he grumbled, throwing down his hand. I guess he was done with the game, "Here," he reached into the inside of his coat and retrieved a teal sphere, speckled with brown. It was as large as a grapefruit and looked solid in his palm. He wrapped his hand around it protectively, and I stared at it dumbly. I guess he couldn't afford round of rum then..
  
  "What in the seven is that?"
  
  "What?" I had forgotten Rharnians didn't know who the seven were. He shook his head, "It's an egg," he muttered, realizing he had lost the last round. Truthfully, Kara had already taken at least 3 golden nel, and 3 shots from me. She was watching with an amused expression and retrieved her cards. I wasn't even familiar with what I should even do with a large egg, but the idea of an omelet made my drunken stomach growl. She sat up, suddenly interested, "My turn."
  
  In my alcoholic haze, my head rolled backward and I had to refocus on the pretty thing beside me. She placed her last card on the table, and her lips were far too seductive when they said seven. I smiled, retrieved the egg from my compatriot, and held it in my hand triumphantly, knowing there was no other option than to call her bluff. I tried to figure out what she played in the past, but my mind was fuzzy and unfocused. I said loot, and played my card.
  
  She arched a brow, turning over to reveal a seven. It mocked the four I played and I realized I had to give her something else. She looked at the egg, smirking, and I groaned. I swear to Ashan, I was handing over the egg when I shit you not, I felt it move. Something inside it shifted, and I pulled it back, staring at the blue shell.
  
  "Hey, you have to give me something!" she demanded, and something in my drunken stupor knew she had played me. I looked at the egg, and then back to her. This thing was alive.... What it it wasn't a chicken? What if it was a dragon? What did dragon eggs look like? "Are you even listening? Those are the rules. You have to give me something or buy a drink. And neither of you have any more gold."
  
  She had been keeping track, and I reached into my pocket as if to defy her, but my hand grasped at lint and nothing more. I was suddenly feeling very difficult, fueled by the music being played by the bard and the heat of liquor burning through my stomach. She was looting me, and I smiled deviously at the pretty hustler.
  
  Needless to say, she didn't get the egg... And that's how I lost my pants.

[Andráska Venora]

The Diary of a New Mother

The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside us while we live. - Norman Cousins

• 6th of Cylus, 717
  
  Thank Ilaren I had enough sense to buy a room before playing, otherwise I'd be skulking back to the Cathedral in Cylus snow. No doubt Zvez would help me out if I asked, but the last thing I needed was being woken up by a baby with a splitting hangover. Don't get me wrong. Alzorn is amazing, but I was in no condition to soothe him at the moment. I could barely soothe myself. The buzz of liquor and then the lull of exhaustion pulled at my limbs.
  
  As much as I wanted to stay up, I was tired, and there was so much of the city to explore in the upcoming days. I smiled at Kara, who had not been too happy at me slighting her, but the sight of my pale legs and dark underwear made her laugh with the rest of the tavern. I smiled, holding the egg like a trophy and bowed gallantly, red faced.
  
  “Thank you, boys. Ladies,” I looked to each respectively, acting as if I hadn't a shred of embarrassment, and waving to a barmaid. Concealing emotions was harder than I thought, and I felt relief when the barmaid came over grinning and noticed she was missing one of her front teeth, “What can I get ya, handsome?”
  
  I rocked back and forth, searching for the balance that had slipped away with every drink, “A bed, please,” My eyelids felt heavy and I had to reach out to the nearest table to stabilize myself, “Someone to warm it would be nice too.” I tried to wink, but my eyes just sort of twitched instead. Damn it.
  
  She laughed in my face, the sound loud and obnoxious. I found such openly expressed emotion a bit endearing to be honest, but I later realized how funny my offer must have been. A foreigner with an strange accent and no pants, intoxicated by the glory of Ilaren's invention and Rharne's skill in brewing. I grinned, her mirth contagious and unable to feel any more shame.
  
  “Women must have to look out for you, prim.”
  
  I had no idea what a prim was, but it was clear my offer was denied. She set down the tray in her hands, and patted the messy bun on her head, “You already pay for your room?”
  
  “Yes, ma'am.”
  
  She nodded and patted me on the shoulder, walking to the bar where the keys were kept. My eyes wandered around the room, and I ran my thumb reassuringly over the egg in my hands. I lifted it to my mouth, whispering to it, “You alive in there?” I waited for another bit of movement, but none came. It sat silent in my hand, listening, but not reacting. Or maybe it was just an egg for breakfast.
  
  “Here you are, prim.” The bar maid returned with a key and slid it into my hands. She pointed towards the door on the far wall where a hallway waited, “Room three. Think you can find it?”
  
  “Of-” I lifted a hand over my mouth, holding in a burp and cleared my throat, “'course.” I yawned and trudged towards the back room, the key swinging from the bit of rope it hung from. I whistled as I moved, content and ready to hit the cot. My stomach still growled, and I smacked my lips together. My mouth felt dry.
  
  “Here we are,” I said to no one in particular. Maybe I said it to the egg. I can't remember. The key twisted combatively in my clumsy fingers, and as I stood outside my door, I dropped it. I cursed, retrieved it and tried again. The key was slow to fit into the lock and with as much difficulty as I had putting it into the hole, you would think I was trying my hand at lock picking. I bit my lip in concentration and finally the knob turned and crept open. “Praise, Ilaren,” I whispered, kissing my two forefingers and holding them up as if honoring the immortal. I stumbled in, looking around.
  
  A bit of movement caught my eye and I turned quickly, relaxing when I realized it was just a mouse scurrying across the floor. I laughed quietly to myself and cradled the egg against my stomach, “Not bad, right?” The room was mostly dark and I fumbled to the bedside table, opening the drawer and feeling around for its contents. A few candles and some matches were waiting – exactly what I was looking for.
  
  Through my muddled mind, I remembered something about eggs needing to stay warm. “Eggs need heat, right?” I blinked, setting up a tiny circle of candles around the open match box. I fussed for a while, spacing them apart as best as I could. With a quick flick of my hand, I began lighting the wicks. Light flickered around the room and I delicately placed the large egg in the center of the candles, using the matchbox as a pedestal. “Not bad,” I announced, pleased with myself. I experimentally touched the sides of the egg to make sure it wasn't getting too hot, and nodded.
  
  I began to pull off my shirt, getting ready for bed. My head spun, getting the fabric caught on my shoulder blades and stumbling around. I cursed a number of times, drunk and frustrated . Finally my head popped free and I gasped for fresh air. Laughing in conquest, I tossed the fabric on the floor and kicked free my shoes. I collapsed on the straw mattress, the faint sounds of the tavern playing outside and the muted cheers of a fight playing upstairs. I buried my face into my pillow and my eyes began to close.

[Andráska Venora]

The Diary of a New Mother

The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside us while we live. - Norman Cousins

• 6th of Cylus, 717
  
  The smell reminds of home – not Venora or Sabbaisant. I never felt welcomed there. I'm talking about the stables, the taverns where the troubled and carefree alike would converse. The smell of burning fireplaces, fresh hay, and an undertone of sour liquor. These smells caressed me, lulling me to a steady rise and fall of my chest, until I heard a faint scratching. I was nearly pulled into the world of deep sleep when the scratching continued. I grumbled, hoping that whatever mouse was causing it would be deterred, but it only picked up, and then I rolled over, reaching for a pillow to hug to my chest.
  
  A soft cracking sound, followed by a tiny chirp was much closer than the faint laughter coming form the other room. I pinched my eyes together, burying my face in the linens when some more scratching and another chirp resounded. The image of the blue egg swirled in my mind, followed by the movement I had felt.
  
  “Shit!” I bolted upright, head snapping to look at the bedside table. I had forgotten about the burning candles and a rush of drunken nausea followed the quick movement. He clutched his stomach and threw my weight over the bed, desperately searching for a bucket. For this very reason, one seemed to be provided by the experienced Rharne staff, and I retched into the container, the contents of my stomach being emptied very quickly. When I lifted my head, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and watched just in time as a piece of blue shell broke away and a tiny beak popped outward.
  
  My eyes widened and I realized that I was not dreaming. The egg I had won was hatching, and I sat in faded awe as nature took its course. I wanted to help the creature, to crack open the rest of egg to help him escape, but I kept my hands to myself. Something told me not to interfere, and even as the beak kept pecking away, I leaned forward, “C'mon,” I whispered, the sour taste in my mouth reminding me of the bucket in my hands. I set it aside, and mentally cheered on the tiny creature.
  
  The shell continued to crack and my drunkenness seemed to amplify to moment, and I realized that once this thing was free, it would need a place to sleep. “Oh shit,” I repeated. What did birds sleep in?
  
  “Nests. You need a nest!” I didn't have a nest. I glanced around and then a moment of realization dawned on me. Branches or... straw. I pulled back the blankets and picked at the bedding. I ripped open the mattress and began to pull out some of the contents. Just as I was hoping, yellow straw, partially grey from age, was dry in my hand. The drawer that I had found the candles in was reopened and I tried to rearrange the tinder to create a circular bedding. I molded the material to meet my needs and chirping grew louder at the sound I was making. A tiny greyish black head pushed itself upwards and began to squirm. It's eyes weren't open and it was featherless, but it tried to free itself anyway. I stared at it for a moment. It was... kind of ugly. The last bit of shell was struggled with and fell away,
  
  It chirped again, helplessly, and I slid some of the candles away from it. Blind animals and fire... I didn't want to risk it, ya know? “Woah, look at you,” I muttered, pushing aside some of the shell bits and it lifted its head with great effort. It turned its head at the sound of my voice, and chirped again, the sound a bit shrill and desperate. I very tentatively stuck out a single finger and ran it along the side of the bird's body. It cried, and the enormity of what had just happened struck me full force.
  
  I was a new mom. Or, was I a dad? I was a single parent!
  
  I knew nothing about how to take care of the thing before me.
  
  “Uh, are you hungry?” I ran to the door, ripping it open in nothing but my underwear, screaming, “I need-!” Wait... what should I feed it? I glanced over my shoulder at the abandoned bird, swallowing. Okay. I had to think. I knew the shell was big, meaning the animal was likely to grow up large. It was black... Like...a crow? A raven? They ate meat, right?
  
  “Protein,” I whispered. But I couldn't just feed it a steak. I didn't have any worms.... I needed something soft, something... mash-able? “Boiled eggs... I need a a boiled egg, and a fork!” I screamed, not caring if anyone thought I was rude.
  
  Wait... This thing was just an egg, was it okay to feed it another? Oh man. I was in deep shit. I returned to the tiny bird and ran another finger along it. It's cries seemed to hesitate when I touched it, and as delicately as I could, I scooped it up in both my palms.
  
  He (or was it a she?) was so... delicate. I learned how gentle I had to be, handling baby birds. It was my first time holding one, and I treated it as if it were made of the finest crystal. There was no mother, besides myself, and I lowered myself on the bed, “Happy birthday, little buddy,” I kind of laughed, feeling surreal in the moment.
  
  “What are you?” I asked, lifting him up to examine his body. So... Some birds were born without feathers. Who knew. That meant he would need to be kept warm. Had the man at the table known it was about to hatch? Was he reluctant to give it up because of this?
  
  Would the nest suffice as proper heating? To be safe, I tried to use some of my body warmth to keep it consoled, carefully grabbing my shirt from the floor and wrapping the nestling in it. “I'll keep you warm,” I promised, having no idea what kind of trouble I was getting myself into. I felt guilty with each cry the tiny avian made, committing the sound to memory. It wasn't something I planned to forget anytime soon.
  
  “I guess if I'm keeping you, you need a name...” Wasn't that something people did with pets? I never had many growing up, besides a horse when I was younger, but the stable boys had mostly handled it. I mulled over the name for awhile, feeling more and more protective over the little bird, when a knock sounded at the door.
  
  The door cracked open and the bar maid from earlier had a boiled egg on a plate in one hand and a fork in the other. She looked confused at my state of dress and then raised a brow when she saw the thing in my hands. The woman laughed, “Did that thing just hatch?”
  
  “Yeah,” I swallowed, nodding for her to come in, “I don't know what to feed it. I thought, maybe...” I trailed off, nodding to the food she had in her hands. She seemed to forget asking for payment, and cocked her head curiously, eyeing the bird in my hands.
  
  “Well, you're gonna have your hands full, and you're gonna regret drinking in the morning,”
  
  “Why's that?”
  
  She smiled deviously, “Baby birds need to be fed... oh, I would say every twenty bits, until they're capable of hopping around the nest. And that, is not something I see hopping anytime soon.” She started laughing. “I guess I'll make some more eggs... But tomorrow, you should go find it some meal worms.”
  
  My mouth dropped. What? Every twenty bits? I looked down at the crying bird in horror, “How am I supposed to sleep?”
  
  “You're not,” she said, setting the boiled egg down and heading towards the door, “Welcome to motherhood.”

[Avrae Kyric]

A Review by Summer Rain

Name: Andraska Venora

Knowledge: (16)
Animal Husbandry (Birds): Building A Makeshift Nest
Animal Husbandry (Birds): Gentle Hands Necessary for Safe Handling
Animal Husbandry (Birds): It's Best to Let the Bird Hatch On It's Own
Animal Husbandry (Birds): Nestlings Need To Be Kept Warm
Animal Husbandry (Birds): Some Birds Born Featherless
Animal Husbandry (Birds): The Hatching Process
Childcare: Sleep is a Rare Blessing
Discipline: Concealing Emotions When Drunk
Gambling: Lying Helps To Hide a Bluff
Gambling: Many Gamble Until They Have Nothing Left
Gambling: Shoot or Loot
Psychology: A Child's Cry is Unforgettable
Psychology: The Mindset of a Parent
Resistance: Shooting Back Victory Drinks And Still Being Able to Gamble
Resistance: Trying to Keep Your Inhibitions In Hand While Drunk
Resistance: Trying to Wink While Drunk

Loot:
+1 Baby Bird
-3 Golden Nels for Gambling and Losing to Kara
-3 Golden Nels for a Room for the Night
-6 Golden Nels for 3 Shots
Total: -12 GN, +1 Baby Bird
Injuries: Hangover, One Trial of Rest and Water to Heal.
Fame: N/A
Devotion: N/A

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 0/5 (Solo)
Structure: 5/5
Magic: These Points May NOT Be Used for Arcana

Comment: Hey Andraska. <3 So this thread was an amusing read, and the knowledge suggestions in your request was a huge help! I wasn't sure if you counted the costs of the inn and your gambling losings in your ledger, so I noted them above in your loot. I really enjoyed this thread, and seeing Andraska find parenthood in such a whacky way. I look forward to seeing more of him and Pride. <3