#c:inge

Something had changed between Anita and her. Or, at least, Inge assumed it had. If there was an occurrence to change a casual friendship (with added benefits), it would be saving someone’s life from hypothermia while they were a ginormous snake. It wasn’t an unwelcome change, though. There was something nice about the deepening of this particular relationship.

So they were passing through the woods near Anita’s home, hiking the way humans might and divulging in the latest rumors. Perhaps not much had changed after all. “This Max —” She bristled still, at the sound of that banshee’s name, but she sounded amused too, “She looked like a freshman and thought she’d kill me. It was … almost endearing, you know? Like an angry toddler.” She scrunched her face up in demonstration.

When the pair turned a corner Inge’s eyes fell on an unusual sight. Which was, of course, quite usual in a town like Wicked’s Rest. Things didn’t tend to be usual. There was a great chance the trees were watching them and there was some kind of fae monster lurking in their branches — and she liked that. But this was something else. This caught her attention like nothing else. “Is that … an egg?”

_ 

Metzli and Cass, they had both seemed to want to talk about the occurrence this past winter in the woods. It wasn’t that Anita didn’t like talking about it (to a certain extent) but it did make her feel her own mortality more than she would like. She wasn’t like Metzli, or Leila, or Inge for that matter. She wasn’t immortal. But Inge hadn’t brought it up much, not explicitly. Anita could tell that things had shifted between the pair, however. They spent more time together neither at work nor naked (though they still did both of those things), and it was really quite enjoyable. 

“I’ve gotta admit, as annoying as that Max sounds, I’m kind of glad to hear I wasn’t the only one up to my ears in banshee bullshit.” Anita had told her a fair bit of what had gone on in Ireland but not quite everything. There were certain things that didn’t feel like her palace to tell. Was this growth? Like that meme from that HBO show? 

Anita was so caught up in her moment of self congratulations that she hadn’t really noticed anything strange until she heard the question, and she instinctively began to answer it before she even laid her eyes on the thing, “It wouldn’t be uncommon, this is prime bird egg laying season honestly…” she trailed off as her eyes landed on the egg in question and quickly corrected herself. “Okay, that didn’t come from any normal bird.” Almost immediately, she took a few steps closer to get a better look at the thing. 

_ 

Though her confrontation with Max had irked her, it would serve to be a story worth repeating down the line. Inge hadn’t encountered a lot of banshees in her days, after all, and it was somehow refreshing that it hadn’t been a slayer (or other type of hunter) who’d wanted to kill her for once. She would very much prefer it if no one wanted to kill her, but to get hung up on wanting such things was childish. 

“Banshee bullshit,” she repeated, “That rolls off the tongue nicely. I am still a little offended that Siobhan didn’t think to invite me, you know. I thought we had something special.” She wasn’t sure if she would have gone. She hated Siobhan. She was glad Siobhan was back, though, but only because all their other colleagues – save Anita – were dull and incapable of challenging her. “With Dolan back we’ll have plenty of banshee bullshit to come, though, but just her brand.” She hated her so much, which was why there was a hint of fondness in her voice.

There was not a lot of time to overthink her feelings about the banshee who’d left her on a wall, though. The egg was taking up most of her headspace. It smelled … strange. Earthy and musky, like a perfume she might have whiffed off someone else. Was Anita wearing a different scent? She followed the other, stepping closer to the egg. “It’s beautiful.” A branch snapped and she whipped around as if scared something would come hurt the egg. “It’s … it’s all alone, out in the open … that’s bad parenting.” 

_ 

It was no secret that Inge and Siobhan were not exactly fond of one another. But they were without a doubt Anita’s most enjoyable co-workers. While that wasn't necessarily because they were her only known non-human co-workers it certainly didn’t hurt. Though there was something about the organic chemistry professor that gave distinctly non-human energy, Anita had yet to crack that case yet. “I’m sure there will be all kinds of new and exciting bullshit to deal with when the new semester starts, banshee bullshit and others.” 

Despite being a reptile, Anita was never actually an egg herself. Rattlesnakes, like a few other species of snakes, give live birth to their young. She felt much more kinship, however, to species who laid eggs than those who didn’t. “Very bad parenting…” she repeated in agreement as she carefully looked around, wondering if there was any sign of the mother nearby. All that she saw around them was open forest and a few large predator birds flying overhead. Anita knew these woods - they were not kind. 

The smell of the egg was so distinct that, and at first, Anita was worried it was rotten. Abandoned by a mother who perhaps knew it was never going to hatch. As she moved close towards it the egg seemed to shift. “It’s hardly even in a proper nest. I wonder if its mother was eaten by something out here. Or, maybe it got separated from her somehow.” Nobody had ever accused Anita of having a maternal instinct before, but all she wanted to do was scoop this egg up and find a nice warm incubator for it. She looked over at Inge, about to say something when the egg seemed to move again. “Whatever kind of egg this is, that little guy is a fighter. I don’t want to leave it out here unprotected but I’m worried trying to move it might hurt it.” 

_ 

Inge had never thought much of eggs. Eggs were simply food — they were part of Sunday breakfast when she’d been a mortal, boiled at the exact right level of hardness for Hendrik. They went into her quiches and the sweet things she baked. She’d had chickens, with her once-husband — a trio of clucking hens that he’d gotten from the farm he worked at. She’d search for their eggs each morning and sometimes they were warm to the touch, and she incorporated them in food or gave them to her parents.

But those eggs? What did those eggs matter? Those small, insignificant chicken eggs, that were naturally overshadowed by the egg in front of her. Now this was an egg. This egg had something to achieve besides being cracked above a bowl or boiled in water. Inge moved closer, its scent working itself into her nostrils and finding its home there. “Who would do such a thing … to leave an egg so beautiful? A child so innocent, so in need of protecting …” 

She swallowed thickly, wondering if Anita was right. Maybe its mother had died. Her mind trailed off for a moment, thinking about how she had died when her daughter had been young — but then it was quickly pulled back to the egg. She was able to lift her gaze from the egg after a moment to look at Anita. “We — well, it’s clear, isn’t it? We cannot abandon it in the wild like this.” She crouched down, placed a hand on the shell. It was warm. “It’s a fighter, and it should be looked after. And we’re … well, the perfect pair, aren’t we?” She could look over the darling egg from the astral at night and Anita was a fierce protector. “It’s beautiful, truly.”

_ 

It was reassuring that Inge seemed to feel the same way as Anita about this egg. Maybe that should have been concerning, but all she felt was relief in knowing that the two of them wanted to protect this precious egg together. Thinking of how Inge had helped her out of that dicey situation this past winter, getting help, keeping her alive  -  Anita nodded genuinely at the question, “Yes. We are the perfect pair.” Her attention quickly returned to the egg, as Anita took her phone out to take a few photographs of it. It was so beautiful and she had never seen anything like it before. It was like she suddenly understood why parents posted so many photos of their children online. 

“You’re very lucky we found you, sweet egg,” Anita said softly, “if humans had come across you they probably would have tried to make an omelet out of you. Humans are quite awful.” Just then the egg twitched again, or rather, the creature inside of the egg twitched. Anita grinned, “I think they agree.”  The egg didn’t stop twitching though. “Do you think it’s about to…” she trailed off slightly, almost astonished at how fantastic their timing seemed to be. The smell seemed to be getting a bit stronger and Anita frowned a bit as she looked at the “nest” that this little babe was laying in. “We need something softer for it, if it’s going to hatch here. I have some clothes in my bag,” she said as she took her backpack off. A lamia, or any smart shifter, never left home without a change of clothes on them. 

_ 

She had shed any maternal instinct like Anita had shed her skin, had thought herself rid of it now that her adult daughter had been dead and buried for over a decade. It had never fit her well anyway, that role. She had made a better aunt to her nieces and nephews, made a better mentor than a mother. But today, here and now, Inge knew suddenly that she had been an absolute fool to try and rid herself of this duty. She was a mother, and she needed to use her maternal skills to take care of this abandoned babe, this poor, lost little soul. She would nurture it. It was the very thing she was born for.

She nodded, “You are so very lucky. We understand you.” The egg was twitching and Inge looked at it with interest, but also with worry. It was beautiful, it was doing so good — “It might be,” she said. “But you’re right, this is no place to come to earth.” She had no extra clothes on her, and just wore what she was wearing. It wasn’t like temperatures bothered her much any more. She still worked on undoing her jacket and then the top she was wearing, standing only in her bra. It didn’t matter — the egg needed the softness. “We’ll take care of you.” She started to surround it with her own clothes, then looked at Anita. “I have nowhere I need to be.” She had multiple appointments, but she could forgo those. She already had.

_ 

Anita had seen many creatures be born. She had even seen many eggs hatch, incubated many of the snakes that lived at home with her. But never had she felt so immediately protective of an unknown creature before. As she bundled up the t-shirt and leggings that she had pulled from her bag she was so caught up in making sure that whatever was about to hatch from this egg had a soft landing spot that she hardly even made note of Inge’s half-undressed state. Hardly, she was a true MILF now but she wasn’t blind. “Classes are out for the summer, I don’t have anywhere I need to be for quite some time.” 

It was mostly true. People would worry if she disappeared for a while, wouldn’t they? Metzli would. At least a person would worry. But Anita had worries of her own to consider, worries about this precious life that she and Inge were about to foster into the world. More movement was coming from the egg now and far more rapidly until eventually, finally, the first small crack in its shell occurred. “Oh!” Anita said with a wide grin, looking over at her newfound partner in all of this. “That was impressive. A little fighter in there. She’ll fit right in with you and I.” She said with a playful nudge, the smile never leaving her face as she scanned the forest around them, making sure there were no outside threats incoming. 

_ 

All the worries she’d been occupied with were melting away, replaced with the nurturing care she felt for the sweet egg. The only way she could be made to think of those concerns was in the context of that egg — what if her demons were to catch up not only with her, but with this darling thing, too? Inge crouched down at the egg, nodding at what Anita was saying, “Same here. And whatever I do have, I can set aside. This is … oh, egg. No appointments matter in the face of you, I think.” 

Her eyes met Anita’s at the same time, a kind of glee shared between the pair that was new. She may have brought life into this world before, but this was different — this was done without her body tearing open, without her sweat and tears. And Anita was a better partner, was she not, than Hendrik had ever been in parenthood? Because Inge did recognize what was happening for what it was — a parental instinct, a need to take a young thing under her wing. “Very impressive,” she said, putting an arm around Anita as she pulled her towards her and looked at the egg. Its shell broke a little more and a round head poked out. “Oh …” Her eyes shone, her hand pressed against her mouth. “Oh — she’s … a beauty, Neets.”

_ 

Anita was no stranger to the feeling of intoxication. She often lived her life seeking it out, in fact. Not just in the form of her favored tequila but in the intoxication that could be found through an array of thrilling activities. Each type of intoxication, that brought on by killing, by lust, by adventure, by defiance, were all unique. As she was crouched down beside Inge as this sweet darling egg began to hatch Anita felt an intoxication unlike any she had experienced before. With Inge’s arm wrapped around her, there was a feeling of security as the beautiful babe shed its literal shell to be welcomed into the world protected by the two women. “Si… she really is.” Her eyes darted between the mare and the egg, equally intoxicated by how the creature was hatching and Inge’s reaction to it. “ Just like her mami’s,” Anita beamed. Practically, scientifically, Anita knew that there was no genetic relation between them and their egg but that didn’t stop the swell of pride she felt. 

The creature, their sweet egg hatchling, didn’t look reptilian. It wasn’t really a surprise to Anita since the egg itself hadn’t seemed particularly reptilian. While it would have been incredible to stumble upon a lamia egg in the wild she knew that wasn’t what had happened. She mirrored Inge’s gesture, and wrapped her own arm around her, as she used her other hand to take a few pictures (and maybe a video or two) of the egg’s hatching. “I’m glad we found her together,” she said, resting her head on Inge’s shoulder as she put her phone away to admire the egg more without the distraction of the screen. “It’ll be nice figuring all of this stuff out together, how to take care of another person. A very small vulnerable person at that.” 

_ 

Anita said what Inge felt. She bestowed the title of mother on both of them and the mare did not shy away from it this time, did not consider all the anguish and trouble that came with that part of her identity. Why would she ever denounce motherhood, after all? Why had she ever despised this feeling of responsibility? As she looked down on the egg, she knew she would give anything and all for it. “Just like her mums indeed,” she said, cocking her head to the side so she could see her hatchling child from a different angle. “Please share those pictures with me. We’ll have to take many — infants grow so very fast.” She leaned her own head against Anita’s, hand rubbing small circles on the other’s shoulder.

She nodded at her words. Her mind ventured to Vera once more, for a moment, and when she had been an infant. The nappies and the breastfeeding and the sweet smell of her and her laughter — all of it seemed to pale in comparison to her new child. Perhaps this was what she’d needed, as a mother: a different child. “I’ll teach you,” she said, “How to be a mother.” Anita didn’t know of her late daughter, but Inge didn’t remember why it should be something kept quiet. It was important they were honest with each other, for the wellbeing of their child. “I’ve done it before. It’s hard work, but for her? It’s all more than worth it, don’t you think? We —” She sighed. “Will be amazing parents.”

_ 

A symphony of questions flooded Anita’s mind at the unexpected admission that Inge had done this, motherhood, before. It hadn’t even been something that she had considered a possibility, despite knowing the other had been alive far longer than she had. Sometimes she forgot that people existed outside the context in which she knew them. There wasn’t time to dive into all of the questions she had about this past child of Inge’s though, because the child in front of them kept working so diligently to break away pieces of its shell. “I’m glad to have you as a teacher.”