WHAT IS ETERNITY?

Suddenly, the pup lurched forward, bumping its wrinkled muzzle into the toe of Dunk's boot. How impressive ! How fearsome ! The pup moved with such force that it accidentally rolled itself over, yipping for help.

@mycursedcaptain, unprompted.

It was Egg's soft complaint that had Dunk looking away from where he was giving Thunder a good brush, his voice sounding small as he whined, "Eugh, ser..."

And so Dunk turned, and sure enough there was little Moon, making her way towards him with determination on her wretched face. He glanced quickly in Midnight's direction, making sure Mother was allowing her child to play, and then laughed when the puppy fell over-- poor thing.

"Doesn't matter how much you whinge about it" -- Dunk crouched, but instead of picking Moon up, he tickled her belly to get her leg kicking -- "all babies are ugly in some way, Egg. I bet you were right rancid, too."

"But I didn't look like that, ser, I'm sure!"

"Even if you did, your mother and father would've loved you. As we ought to love Moony."

Using two hands, he lifted the pup up in the air, squinting at her mouth.

"Pay him no mind, yeah?" Dunk kissed the top of her head. "He's just jealous he's not the baby any more."

"I am not!"

The little thing in question whimpered noisily at Dunk. She fidgeted in his hands, patchy fur and skin rubbing against his palms. All of the movement made her stomach gurgle. As Dunk finished teasing Egg and her mother in equal measure, the puppy blew a string of white bubbles — and then spat up a mixture of drool and milk across Dunk's wrist.

Moon's upset tummy only stopped her for a moment. The pup's scraggly tail thumped against Dunk's fingers. Blindly, her toothless mouth began to chomp at the mess dripping off of her captor's arm ; her gums rubbed pink marks into the knight.

On the grass, Midnight returned to laying on her stomach. She set her head on her outstretched paws, ears facing forward, and looked at Dunk with something eerily similar to amusement.

Similarly, the shame in Rao's eyes was unwarranted as far as Clark was concerned. But there was no point in making her do anything outside her comfort zone, especially when she was still in so vulnerable a state.

The sweater was set delicately atop the bed for now. In the same breath, Clark's hand came up to rest on Rao's head, fingers carding through her hair in the same way he'd ruffle gently through her fur to reassure her. "Sure, girl.

"I bet Krypto'd appreciate the bath, too. Wouldn't you, boy?"

Hearing Clark say "bath" had the dog barking in agreement. In fact, once Rao was no longer petting him, he was hopping off her lap and watching her intently, tail wagging with his silent insistence to go have bath time now, please.

Clark chuckled. "You two go on ahead. I'll grab a towel meanwhile."

Then he was back up on his feet, moving to where he stored his bed fabrics and towels. For Rao, he opted for a fluffy, deep green towel he'd used since his college days. The years were kind to it-- it was much softer to the touch now, and a part of Clark hoped that the scent of him imbued on it would be more comforting to Rao than not. Regardless of her shape, she was still family.

He headed to the bathroom with Krypto's towel in tow as well. The sweater from Ma was still hung over his shoulder, as well as a pair of boxer briefs Clark supposed would fit better on Rao's slender frame than any of his shorts or sweatpants.

He knocked on the door twice. "Rao, may I come in?"

The vampire laughed. Loud, sweet. It echoed through the bathroom. For a moment, she felt happy. She had a good name, a family who loved her ( regardless of her shape ), and somewhere that she was safe. In here, she forgot about her nervousness in front of Clark. Rao crouched down to shampoo Krypto, which put her in danger of more kisses. In spite of the dog's persistence, she managed to finish cleaning him.

Rao dried Krypto first. She attempted to release him out into the house. However, he whined, spun in a tight circle, and stopped at her feet. Not without you, he seemed to say, head cocked. Rao swallowed down the emotion in her throat, scratched behind his ears, and changed. Clark's soft towel, so deeply infused with his scent, comforted her as much as the scraggly animal watching her every move. Ma's sweater was pleasant to touch ; the hand - sewn garment reminded Rao of the Christmases she shared on the farm. Full of life, full of hope.

Her composure was fragile. Rao took several deep breaths ( unnecessary as they were from a biological standpoint ) before she left the bathroom. Krypto's usual ornamentation sat neatly on top of the towels she had folded. The vampire followed her favorite white blur into the living room. She paused in the doorway. A hand rose up to her lips, covered in the sweater's sleeve, and Rao looked around the apartment.

There was the couch — where now, after a walk, she would usually be cuddling Clark. The freezer that held meat for her. Clark always tried to get her the best that they could afford on the Daily Planet's pay. Her basket of dog toys, including the holiday - themed plushies that she protected from Krypto viciously. Rao's red eyes fell on her collection of collars and leashes, hanging nearby. Bows, flowers, gems, whimsical little patterns. Ma spoiled her rotten every time Smallville's single pet store received anything cute. Rao wondered if the owner shopped for the unusual black dog, as well. Ma always carried new pictures to share.

Rao finally turned toward Clark. She sniffled. There were no more tears ( she had cried so many ). Just muffled whimpering noises brought on by a mixture of hope, fear, and shame. The vampire slowly walked over to their customary spot on the sofa and sat in it. Her glittering eyes fixed on Clark, asking silently if he would mind.

She had failed in that mission, unfortunately.

❝Kal,❞ Rao murmured, rolling onto her back. The creature's hair was loose, strewn across the bed, and she still wore her favorite cornflower blue maxi dress with ruffles. At the very least, she had possessed sense enough to shimmy out of her panties and bra before she laid down to wait. Around her neck, their family's proud symbol shone, as always.

❝Hey, my love ...❞ Rao rose up to meet him. ❝I missed you.❞ An arm slipped behind his shoulder, and she kissed him deeply.

— from @mycursedcaptain, unprompted.

It was always freeing coming home. Gone were the airs required of Superman and the behaviours expected of Clark Kent, leaving nothing but the man beneath-- the man that Rao's arm so sweetly slung over to draw him in close, and near, and warm.

Kal smiled into the kiss, and was smiling still when he pulled away to look at his wife. The sight of Rao beneath him, all soft with sleep and the delicate fabric of her dress, made his heart flutter in his chest. The way she leaned up for the next few kisses he pressed to her lips made it beat even faster.

"I missed you, too," he whispered, guiding Rao's hands to unfasten the clasps to his cape to slip off of him and onto the floor. "I'm sorry I'm home so late, especially when you look so beautiful. Gosh, you always do..."

In the familiarity of their routine (so domestic, he couldn't help but think proudly), Kal trusted Rao to unfasten the back of his collar and pull on the zipper at his back. Kal's belt clicked undone meanwhile, and as he kissed and sucked and rolled his tongue over Rao's jaw and neck, covering her in his scent, more and more pieces of Superman fell away from him.

"Every time I come home," he murmured, left in only his blue leggings now that his trunks and boots were kicked off, "I wonder how a guy like me lucked out with a wife like you. A house like this. A family like ours..."

Crinkles in the corners of his eyes, Kal's hands crept up Rao's dress, bunching the fabric as his touch drifted high towards her waist.

There were benefits to their shared truths as super human beings. Rao's chest grew tight, but she didn't need a breath to fill it. She continued to kiss him deeply. As her unnaturally long tongue snaked its way between his lips, Rao's heels came up. They hooked around the back of Kal's thighs. The angle caused her dress to ride up further, exposing that she was completely bare beneath it.

Kal's leggings were slightly slippery, though, and she was so small comparatively that it became too much to stay that way. Rao's legs fell, ending her tease. The creature couldn't help but giggle. Her cold hands swept up on Kal's chest and wrapped loosely around his neck. Rao's claws scratched at the base of his skull affectionately.

She finally pulled back enough to look at him, red eyes shining. Rao's tongue swept over her lips in an effort to soothe the tingling across them. ❝I'm just glad you came home safe and sound to us,❞ the vampire murmured. ❝— I couldn't imagine life without you ...❞

The vampire's fangs pushed into her lower lip momentarily. Her fingers dropped, touching where his rested on her body. Rao stared up at him with an all - too familiar hunger in her eyes, and the wanting that almost warmed her dripped from her voice when she spoke again. ❝Please, Kal. The dress can stay on, if you like it that much — but could you ... show me how much you missed me, my love ?❞

— from @mycursedcaptain, original meme.

He was naive to think that Zod would just rot in the depths of underground Antarctica. Barring Kara (and, in a way, Lex's machinated clone), the man was the only thing Kal knew could hurt him, and he should have known it would never be easy taking him down.

With the robots' help, Kal eventually managed to send Zod back to the Phantom Zone, but not without getting a beating in return. When he came home, it came to no surprise that Rao rushed to him in concern-- besides the miscellaneous cuts and bruises on him, the suit Ma had so meticulously made him was torn right over his gut where Zod shoved his fist right in and broke. The blood that covered him carried the distinct scents of two Kryptonians instead of one, too.

By the time Rao got him to lay down, there was a thin enough layer of regrown flesh for Kal to rest without needing to physically hold himself closed. The shot of energy from Earth's yellow sun he received at his Fortress had revitalised him, but these things took time... and, frankly, Kal couldn't remember the last time he'd ever been hurt this bad, if it had ever happened at all.

Gary's suggestion had been for Kal to stay in the Fortress until he was healed completely. But in the wake of his injury, Kal wanted to be home where his family was, even if it wasn't medically ideal.

A pull too tight at the bandages around him had Kal wincing, a soft groan escaping him before he could stop it. Already he anticipated the look on Rao's face, and when he turned to face her those big red eyes were looking at him in concern. Apologetic, Kal's (bloodied) hand came up to cup her cheek, a small smile crossing his (cut up) face.

"I'm gonna be okay," he reassured her, fingers drifting up to tuck some hair behind Rao's ear. "You're doing great, honey.

Her ears then caught the faint sound of the small baby that Kal carried home with him stirring. Rao had made a bed for him in one of Jon's spare car seats. He was half - asleep now, dressed in a onesie Rao still possessed from Jon's earlier days. The boys were the same age, from what she saw at a quick glance — but this precious life was so much smaller, thinner, and more fragile than her son.

Rao's shifted focus caused her to pull the bandages too tight. She hissed, laid the roll down, and looked at Kal with large, wet eyes. The creature's lower lip trembled. Rao nuzzled into the heel of his hand when it moved to her hair. Her fangs scraped his skin affectionately ( though she was, as always, careful not to break through it ).

❝Have you ...?❞ she asked softly. Rao returned to her work then. ❝I — I trust you, my love. It's only that you haven't ever looked like this in front of me before ...❞

When Rao asked her question, Clark looked at her with big, almost hurt blue eyes. "I'm sure."

She wasn't losing faith in him, was she?

"I just have to..." He took a deep breath in, then pushed another one out. "Take this step by step." Scratching the side of his head, he mumbled, "Even if it looks goofy, there's a process for a reason. And I just have to trust it. Yep."

This was the third time he disassembled the GONATT crib, but not without some frustrated muttering about how "that's not how that should go" or "why am I screwing this in now?". All the times he helped Pa build things when he was little meant he had a not-insignificant amount of experience in basic carpentry; it was no small feat of pride-swallowing for Clark to accept that he really should just trust the darn booklet, no matter how confusing it looked.

"Okay," he said, handing the booklet Rao's way, "hold this up for me, honey. I'm gonna do this by the book and make our baby his crib." Even if he hated the book with a passion.

A few minutes passed with Clark turning from the open book to the assembly pieces and back again. It looked immensely ridiculous once he had the lined sides of the crib attached to a single end piece, but in a noble act of self-control, he kept his comments to himself and slid the board for the mattress into place instead.

Over the following minutes, Rao offered a few murmurs of encouragement. They were cheesy, perhaps, but affectionate. ❝It's looking nice❞ followed by ❝thank you for suffering through this.❞ Rao's grin grew softer at every flipped page. There was something about this view of Clark, performing an action as normal as building his baby a crib, that seemed terribly touching to her. They were going to be parents soon. Rao inhaled deeply and nodded at Clark's request for her to turn to the next part of the instructions. She couldn't wait for Jon to meet him — Rao had never doubted that Clark would be an incredible father.

❝What —?❞ Rao blinked and silently cursed her lapse in attention. ❝Yeah, yeah. It's perfect. Just like they want.❞ She turned the booklet over for a moment. ❝Step 6 ... you only need to screw on the opposing side.❞

Krypto's recognition was a beautiful moment, and it was one Clark didn't feel the need to interrupt. With a protective arm around Rao's naked form, he had her right where he wanted her. Resting his chin gently against the top of her head was as easy as any other gesture he'd given her before.

Even the talking, for all of its novelty in context, was hardly startling. As confused as Rao was, and as tentatively as she spoke, Clark was less surprised by her new form than he was by the way she sounded making words his mind could parse. Rao had such a nice voice; Clark could press his ear to her chest and just listen to it echoing in there-- this is the sound of someone who loves me.

And hearing that voice call his Metropolis apartment their home filled him with a joy that rivalled the time Clark first realised he could fly.

"I don't disagree with you," he murmured. "I just hope Krypto doesn't mind us cutting his walk short--"

The dog barked, pulled away to walk in a circle, and then sat in front of the corpse still on the ground with a tilted head and a whine. For a moment Clark's gaze turned sorrowful-- loss of life was still loss of life, even for those too far gone in tragedy-- but as the laws of man dictated self-defence was justified, he allowed the emotion to wash over him. As far as Clark's eyes could see, the man had a wallet and some identification on him; the cops would reunite him with people to help him rest, surely.

"The police'll take care of him, boy," he said, decision made. "She protected me, and they won't be able to link him to our Rao, anyway.

"But we have to leave now."

"Leave" and "now" was a familiar combination that had Krypto's paws lifting off the ground. Before Clark could even issue a command, the dog zipped through the air in the direction of their building faster than any camera could sense him. Clark didn't bother scolding him; it was more important to look at Rao instead.

"I'm gonna need you to hold onto me, baby girl." He chuckled, hand curving warmly over the back of her neck. "You're a little taller like this, you know."

And when she did, and he was certain she was held properly in his arms, Clark rose quick enough in the air to keep from being seen, too.

In less than a minute, Rao was brought to Clark's room and set gently on the edge of his bed. After pushing at the light switch with his snout, Krypto followed, barking as he landed on Rao's lap and sat as politely as he could.

"First thing's first, I gotta get you something comfy to wear," Clark said, rubbing his chin. Under the light of his bedroom, the blood on his white shirt was a stark red.

"Oh! This should work..." Turning around, he held up a Christmas sweater Ma had made for him a few years prior. It was red with a thick white stripe across the chest, the inside of which being decorated with a pattern of hearts and prancing reindeer.

Rao whimpered when Clark asked her to hold on. Their flight back was so fast that she scarcely had time to recognize it was happening. Traveling with Clark as a human - shaped creature and not a dog was different, and she wondered, distantly, how it would be if they flew over a greater distance.

Krypto's weight in her lap was new but not unwelcome. Rao used her familiar friend as an emotional anchor. One arm wrapped around Krypto's body, bringing the shaggy animal close, while the other scratched at his fur with her long nails. She seemed to find a spot that was in desperate need of a good dig, and Krypto licked her neck enthusiastically. At that, she laughed — genuine, true, and the response made her tired eyes glitter.

❝Hm —?❞ Rao turned her head. It hit her then what Clark had said. Clothes. Suddenly, she became aware of her nudity, and the shame of it made her duck her head. The vampire's fangs caught her lower lip, and she reached for Clark's items bashfully.

A moment away from gripping the pretty fabric, Rao realized that her hands were still red with blood. It was almost dry, but she couldn't bear the thought of ruining something from Ma. She glanced at Krypto, saw the scarlet on his body from her affectionate squeezing, and swallowed hard. Her hand recoiled, moving to rest against her thin chest. Rao looked at Clark through her lashes, mesmerizing gaze wet and ashamed. Being dirty was never a concern for a dog. Clark always placed her in the tub in the apartment or hosed her off on the farm before she went into his folks' home.

      PREGNANCY -

❝ We’re going to be parents! ❞ ❝ Did you feel him/her/them kick!? ❞ ❝ Do you want to feel the baby? ❞ ❝ I’m pregnant…and it’s yours. ❞ ❝ Do you think I’ll make a good mother/father? ❞ ❝ What are you hoping for? ❞ ❝ I feel so nauseous today… ❞ ❝ What should we name him/her/them? ❞ ❝ How many diapers do you think we’ll need? ❞ ❝ You’re crying over a puppy? ❞ ❝ Is just strawberry okay? They didn’t have strawberries and cream. ❞ ❝ I’ve read this book four times I’m basically an expert by now. ❞ ❝ Boy or girl? ❞ ❝ Wait, do we have everything on this list I found? ❞ ❝ Can you put the crib together? I’m so tired. ❞ ❝ This kid can come out anytime it’s ready. ❞       ❝ You’re glowing. ❞ ❝ How far along are you? ❞ ❝ Please don’t freak out…but I’m pregnant. I SAID DON’T FREAK OUT. ❞ ❝ Hospital. Now! ❞ ❝ I think that was a contraction… ❞ ❝ The due date’s not until next week! ❞

     NEW BABY -

❝ S/He’s your kid before five in the morning. ❞ ❝ We need to go on a diaper run again. ❞ ❝ We’re out of formula–where’s the other can!? ❞ ❝ Ugh, s/he spit up on my good shirt! ❞ ❝ S/he won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do. ❞         ❝ Please take him/her, I’m going to go crazy with the screaming. ❞ ❝ Is it even possible for a baby to scream so much!? ❞ ❝ Should they be breathing like that? ❞ ❝ I need to go check on the baby. ❞     ❝ If you never put him/her down you’ll spoil him/her. ❞ ❝ Daddy/Mommy’s little girl/boy! ❞ ❝ Good morning, little spawn of Satan! ❞ ❝ Shhh, they’re finally asleep.  ❞     ❝ Dammit, I just got them to sleep! ❞ ❝ Be careful, s/he’s a hair puller…. ❞ ❝ Where’s the pacifier!? ❞ ❝ I can’t find his/her blanket, please help me. ❞     ❝ I’ve been up since four this morning, it’s your turn. ❞ ❝ I found you and the baby sleeping in the recliner at six am and it was so precious. ❞ ❝ Stroller, diaper bag, playpen, blanket, bottles, what else do we need before we go to your parents? ❞ ❝ A babysitter!? Are you insane!? ❞     ❝ You’re going to spoil them. ❞     ❝ We can’t go out with the baby, that’s just asking for trouble. ❞ ❝ Baby’s awake… ❞ ❝ S/he’s so precious…. ❞ ❝ This is our son/daughter…. ❞ ❝ We make damn beautiful babies. ❞ ❝ Look at his/her little feet… ❞ ❝ S/he has your eyes. ❞ ❝ Do not dress him/her in that! ❞     ❝ Be careful with him/her! ❞ ❝ Did you remember to pack his/her toy? ❞ ❝ His/her first tooth came in today. Already bit me.❞ ❝ Did you hear that? That was a cough.❞           

        CHILDREN -

These days, the streets of London no longer scared her the way they did. What images she might conjure of her mother fighting all the unseen evils away were tucked away in the back of her mind for safekeeping. But Enola glanced at her Mummy out of the corner of her eye as they walked, trying with all her might not to let her concern show. Quill was an adult, and as such ought to be able to care for himself, but ever since seeing him lain near-dead in his own blood, Enola never wanted him to feel pain ever again.

May my presence give him strength, she thought, fingers squeezing lightly in the crook of his arm as they walked.

And may all the devils out to hurt him feel my wrath!

Enola was still scowling to herself when they approached the stall, unaware that her passion showed so obviously on her face. It was only when Mummy looked down at her that she startled out of her thoughts, blinking innocently as she met his gaze.

"Oh--" God. How humiliating. Enola bit her lip and waved at the vendor with a smile that hopefully made up for her behaviour (or lack thereof). "Yes. Hello!

"I'd like apple, please, Mummy."

Juvenile though it might seem, Enola was still young enough to get away with such language. That she was so diminutive in size played to her favour as well. Most people didn't question the title-- most people saw Quill as her real father, which was no issue to her-- and the same was true now.

"Get one for yourself too," she implored, huffing. This second pie, of course, would also be ravenously consumed by Enola, but it was important for Quill to keep up appearances (and it was a bit less embarrassing to claim she wanted more than one to the whole world).

With food in hand, Enola began eating as soon as they walked away. Following that first bite, her stomach growled.

Enola asked about his appetite, and Quill flinched. ❝I suspect that I have become something that is always hungry,❞ he confessed, voice soft. ❝Please do not concern yourself with me, Enola. I will ... find sustenance when I need it ; I have a healthy schedule.❞ It was a lie, and they both knew it. Nonetheless, Quill repeated the sentiment. He smiled thinly as he did, bringing Enola closer for a moment.

( — never mind that almost all of his attempts to feed in his short un - life had ended with him swollen and feeling sick, as he often waited too long. how sunken his cheeks were now was proof of his reluctance to feed the way he was ought to have. )

❝You have a good breakfast, and that is what matters to me.❞ Quill meant it. He hoped that the sincerity in his voice would overtake her concerns. The creature felt his eyes move from her face to the street as he finished speaking, though. It was difficult for him to mask anything around her, who knew him better than anyone else in the world. His gaze drifted down the way.

Quill opened his mouth to add a remark about how good it was to see the baker. Some droll, short comment that would make him feel normal. Yet, the vampire didn't speak. His attention was caught by the plain wooden cross on the front of a centuries - old church, composed of splintered beams and cracked stone. The unassuming but noble simplicity of it, along with the symbols of the faith it protected, made Quill's steps falter. For a moment, he appeared to be in pain.

❝The b - baker is looking well,❞ the creature finally managed, words half - choked out and unconvincing. He lowered his head in an effort to hide behind his hat. Perhaps, if he made the right argument, they could take a path that would not lead him so close to the holy building. Quill couldn't bear to reminded any more of Ernst Toller tonight. Not when he felt this fragile, this ready to run to his lost partner and beg for kindness at his feet. Quill knew that any man of the cloth could only bend his religion so far before he broke ; the relationship he had shared with Ernst surely had been all the priest could take with his God watching.

"Sherlock's agreed to a bet declaring my intuition is wrong and that you are not a girl-- I intend to rob him of a month's worth of breakfast pastries when you're born." She was smiling when she pulled away, already proud. "You may be the youngest accomplice in a scheme to exist, and I'd be envious if I weren't the accomplished mastermind."

Lifting herself enough on an elbow to watch her Mummy's features, Enola's fingers drummed lightly over her belly, pinky to thumb and right back. She always wondered how that might sound to the baby in the womb.

"I can't wait to tell Mother you've decided on giving her an E name, too." She laughed. "Elizabet sounds quite ladylike... mayhaps I'll choose Alderose for her middle." And despite her genuine lack of contemplation, Enola sounded as genuine as she always did. Improvisation didn't take away from affection.

❝Elizabet Alderose Toller,❞ she repeated, rolling the name through her mouth. It sounded different when Quinn said it ( her voice reflected the way the colonies spoke, already removed from a proper English accent in just a few generations ) ... but no less beautiful. ❝Elizabet. Alderose. Toller.❞

Quinn's hand fell back to her stomach. She smiled at Enola, fangs flashing as her lips peeled away from them. ❝It's perfect, pup,❞ the vampire finally declared, eyes shining. ❝I am sure she will be extraordinary with a name like that — particularly with you to guide her in the world.❞ With that, Quinn moved to leave the top of her spacious bed. A glance at the closed window confirmed her suspicions regarding the time.

❝The sun is down,❞ Quinn said, walking stiffly toward her wardrobe. ❝Let me lace up, Enola, and then we can go buy a bird for dinner. Your father will be home from his work with the poor soon ; a warm meal is the least he deserves. Dr. Watson shan't be long, either.❞ The vampire leaned against the open door for a moment, wincing at an ache in her middle as the baby moved sharply. She sighed at it. There was so much to do ... and only so much ability that her present condition afforded her. Quinn looked back at Enola, expression apologetic.

In a way, she could picture what it must feel like to lose the thing you love most. When her mother first left her after fifteen years and three-hundred and sixty-four days of unconditional love, Enola had been despondent in her own way, too. Quill was much older than her and had much more experience living on the Demeter in comparison... no wonder all he could do was cry.

Reaching up, Enola tucked some of his hair over his ear. "So long as the pie isn't cranberry, I'll accept it."

If Mummy found joy in purchasing little things for her, Enola could at least give him this.

"If we're to go out together, we ought to wear colours that match." Enola only knew the very basics of English fashion, but the thought of walking on Mummy's arm in skirts that matched his trousers was a fond one. "I've probably got... erm." Her nose wrinkled. "No, I suppose this is the only clean skirt I have.

"I'm afraid you'll have to put on something blue."

He picked something easy to wear : a simple white linen shirt, a pale vest, and darker blue trousers. The large brown coat that went over it all matched his low top hat and boots ( which had been shined recently, he noted with a still - quivering smile ). Once he was finished dressing himself, Quill pulled his rectangular sunglasses out of his overcoat's deep breast pocket. They were dark and well - made ... perfect for disguising a gaze that no human could ever possess. Quill donned them with a sour taste in his mouth. Cold fingers tipped with formidable nails fluffed out the sides of his hair, ensuring that his pointed ears were hidden.

❝Alright,❞ Quill said. He gave Enola enough time to gather whatever she needed before he extended a bent arm for her to take. That their outfits matched brought a flicker of amusement to his tired face. ❝No cranberry.❞

The creature locked their door, slipped the key into his vest, and walked them out into the cold London air. Winter was almost over. Much of the snow and ice was gone from the streets, leaving only a dark dampness that wouldn't recede until spring properly came. What refused to leave was the bitter temperature, which was worse after the sun fell. As the stars tried desperately to hide through the oppressive smog over London, Quill, true to his word, steered them toward their favorite stand on the corner. It served the lamplighters and less - than workers that the city's elite were fond of disregarding. Tonight's offerings of the sweet and warm fruit - filled hand-pies were included apple and pear. Quill and Enola were a familiar sight, and the baker who serviced the hasty store - front issued a greeting that was almost fond.

Quill tried not to think about how he could hear the man's heartbeat, clear and strong. It made his stomach growl in the same manner that the pasties used to.

"I forgive you preemptively for the attention you'll no doubt have to lavish my sister with." She grinned, ever so confident as she met Quinn's eyes. Enola had first suspected her Mummy had a girl in there when the news was announced, but her intuition only got stronger the more months progressed. "She's a baby, after all, and Mother always said to show them as much love as you can so they might grow to their fullest potential."

She brought the mirror higher, setting Quinn in the centre of it. The happiness in her face made her look like a portrait-- some lovely, classical thing that could drive any man into the throes of desperation. After months of persistent depression, she looked so beautiful now that she was happy.

❝You are so certain the baby will be a she,❞ Quinn said softly, raising a brow. ❝— well, I can hardly argue with such an accomplished detective.❞ She spread Enola's fingers over the shape of the child. Though Quinn wore two layers ( a white nightgown and beautiful lace robe atop it ), it was still possible to feel the pressure of their littlest family member against her stomach. Quinn pressed Enola's hand in gently, and a foot kicked back. Playful, almost.

❝There she is,❞ Quinn sighed. She left her eldest's touch over the baby, to explore or move at Enola's leisure, and let her own hand fall to her lap. The vampire so adored introducing them in these quiet moments. Their child — son or daughter — had no idea just how much they were loved already.

Quinn gave Enola a moment to inspect her work before she continued speaking. Her hands fell down to her lap, cradling the shape of their unborn child through her decorative nightgown. ❝Your father and I spoke about something last night.❞ Quinn's red eyes softened behind Enola. ❝We were considering hosting a dinner — for us, as a family, and Dr. Watson. It would be our way of extending our gratitude for all he has done. Would you ... want to invite your brother, little pup ?❞

— from @mycursedcaptain, unprompted.

"You're always so much prettier than I am, Mummy," Enola lamented as she looked in the mirror. As she turned and gave her mother a kiss to the cheek, however, it was clear there was no real venom in it.

She was terrible about her grooming and she knew it. The only time Enola gave a damn about her appearance was when she needed to look a certain way to gather information; all her other attempts occurred only because it was bothersome having her hair falling in her face.

But Quinn was a natural in the same way she seemed to be a natural at any of these traditionally feminine acts. It led credence to Enola's suspicions that she always did want to be a mother... and subsequently made her even happier that she was getting the opportunity for it. She was a flower in bloom now, her Mummy, and Enola leaned back enough to rest her head on her shoulder whilst watching their shared reflection in the mirror.

The invitation to dinner made her smile, ready to agree. But at the mention of Sherlock--

"Do you mean it?"

Despite herself, Enola could hear the excitement in her voice and instantly felt embarrassed by it. She was close enough to her brother by now to notice his humanity, but it was difficult not to admire him when he was so clever. John's recent serialisation of his adventures made everything more vivid than the papers ever did, too.

Quinn wrapped her arm around Enola's waist from behind. The vampire's eyes closed, and she ducked her head. Long hair ( largely composed of soft and perfectly - matched false pieces that she wove into her own ) slid over her shoulder as she nosed into the side of Enola's head. For a moment, she merely listened to both of her children : the fluttering heart of the one in her belly, soothed by the voices of both its mother and big sister, and the much firmer and wilder rhythm of Enola's.

Everything that she had ever truly wanted in life was here, tucked into the safety of her arms. The void in her that she once used alcohol, the sea, and no small amount of dangerous escapades to fill was now gone. — healed, one could argue, by the ring on her finger and her precious pups. Quinn inhaled the scent of her eldest, and something glittered on her lashes. Her tears were all born from contentment now.

"No, no." Quill rolled over, grabbed his pseudo - daughter by the waist, and pulled her back to him. "I need you today. Come here, you little stray."

The captain's eyes focused on the ceiling above them. It was strange to see the details of her flat when he had become so accustomed to his ship or their home in America. Finally, his reds turned to look at Enola. "Breakfast," he said hoarsely. "-- and I have to check on the Demeter. I want you to see her with me, alright ? Then, you're welcome to return to your mischief and mysteries. I shan't stop you. Grant me the evening, please ?"

— from @mycursedcaptain, unprompted.

That Enola might have failed her mother's test for independence occurred to her a few months ago as she sat in Quill's apartment writing in her journal. But was it truly a failure when she took care of him as much as he did her?

In fact, as Quill pulled her in by the waist, she became certain he needed her more than the opposite lately. It was hardly anything Enola could blame him for-- he'd gone through an awful life change, and it had scared her beyond her wits-- but that didn't change its truthful nature. Despite her squeaking (largely playful), she allowed her own arm to wrap around his waist as she did her birth mother's a million times before.

Looking up into his red eyes, she made a show of pouting. Sometimes Enola feared if Quill knew the depths of her concern, he'd feel guilty for it-- it paid to play the part of indignant little girl.

"Why do you always assume I'm up to no good?" she asked, as if her arrival home hadn't somehow coincided with a few more incidents of smoke bombs in the area. As if it was her fault. "I'll stay... but not because I would've been in trouble otherwise, mind."

It's because I love you, Mummy. (She'd joked about how Quill was like a mummy to her over a year prior, and he was so deeply moved the nickname just stuck.)

Mother. The word left his mouth so naturally. Quill smiled. His fingers squeezed Enola's side. ❝Thank you. I want to see the Demeter before she sails ... that update you received from the harbor master said it ought to be next week, provided the ice is gone.❞

One last time died in Quill's mouth. He inhaled sharply in an effort to hide the film of tears that sprang up over his eyes at the thought of finally saying good-bye to the proud vessel. Everything seemed to make him weep nowadays.

Quill locked the car and followed Gavynne's path. By that time, the eight-year-old was already inside, hugging her Peepaw excitedly. Quill shut the door behind him, stepped out of his shoes, and leaned against the wall for a moment. His hands settled neatly beneath his belly, stroking the baby. It occurred to him for the upteenth time that he was glad this next little girl would know her grandfather, as well. Quill smiled fondly. He concentrated for long enough to pick up the sounds of his older boys upstairs ; Thomas and Justin, now eagerly running toddlers, had stayed home with their father tonight.

"She couldn't wait to see you," Quill finally said to Sebastian. The curve of his lips deepened. Gavynne chirped for her Peepaw to watch as she offered a spin. Quill sucked in a breath until she was back on flat feet. "The only part of her lessons that she hates is that everyone gets to stay here with you except her. Peepaw is all she talks about coming from the studio."

— from @mycursedcaptain, unprompted.

Sebastian-- if that was really his name and he had any fucking right to it-- often looked forward to interacting with his grandchildren. So many of them were little, still, and it provided a much-needed break between the periods of uncertainty that had become his existence. He wasn't used to it; in life (was it his life?) he'd always had a set path, certain and assured. Even after he met Gavin's mother (but had he really met her?), he'd known with utter certainty that he wanted her, a family with her, and to raise the child she'd left behind in death.

But in what felt like a blink of an eye, that child was grown now with children of his own. And Sebastian was more thing than man.

At least the love that little Gavynne had when she hugged him was real, even if there was a possibility that he was not. He watched her little twirl and didn't hesitate to applaud, chuckling.

"That was marvellous, darl'. Just marvellous," Sebastian cooed, wasting no time to bend and lift the girl up to hold her in one arm. There wasn't much of her for it to be cumbersome (and his body, he felt, was much stronger than it ought to be). "You're doin' great, going out to ballet. Momma's gotta be real proud, yeah?" Glancing in Quill's direction, he smiled, then stepped aside to allow him room to walk further inside.

"Me and your Nan, we used to think about all the kinda stuff your Pops might wanna do, even when he was still in her belly. It's a good thing you found somethin' you like so much."

Sitting on the chair he used for reading, and allowing Gavynne to sit on his lap, he gestured for Quill to take the bed in the room.

The little girl turned to the side, which allowed her to see both her grandfather and mother. She clapped her hands in her lap and scrunched up her nose. ❝Really good, Peepaw !❞ Gavynne's red eyes glittered with her excitement. ❝Peepaw — listen. This is 'mportant, 'kay ? Teacher's having a recital just for me, and it's in this big theater, and I want you to come ! I want you, and Poppa, and Momma, and I told Momma he's gotta have my sister tomorrow or she's gonna miss it, and —❞

Quill laughed. The new little life he carried rolled, as if she was aware that Gavynne was referring to her. He leaned to the side and placed his palm over his belly soothingly.

❝Breathe, baby,❞ he said to Gavynne. ❝Peepaw and I are listening.❞

Gavynne took a comedically deep breath. She glanced at her mother before she continued to speak. It was only after Quill nodded that Gavynne continued. ❝Anyway, Peepaw. It's not this Sunday, it's next Sunday, 'kay ? Please come ? I really want you to, Peepaw. 'Cuz it's you, Poppa, Momma, and Momma's gonna get me Sister — just no boys.❞ The girl cupped her hand around her mouth and leaned closer to Sebastian, as though she had a secret to share.

❝Boys are smelly, Peepaw,❞ she whispered. ❝Like my brothers —❞

"You're worried," he said, red eyes looking into their near-perfect mirror. It wasn't a question-- Vincent had a way of stating things like his father did, albeit with more understanding of the importance of tact-- but it wasn't cross, either. As frustrating as it was that Momma looked at him like he was still a kid, sometimes he got this look on his face that resembled a kicked dog. Vincent could never stay annoyed at him for long.

Quill's gaze dropped. He inhaled deeply and squeezed Vincent's hand. ❝I'm sure he is. It's that — Vincent, I worry that you're going to ...❞ A film of tears came over Quill's eyes. It took everything in him not to just cry, as he had often contemplating this matter when Gavin was away ; even still, his lower lip trembled before he found the composure to speak again.