rush tackle them to the ground. (choose a muse, or default to Summer)
Wanda had no time to react when the man tackled her, only letting out a small squeal before bringing her hands up to press on his chest. "Hey! What was that for?" She huffed, "do you always go around tackling people or did I do something to deserve that?"
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Spring hands Bucky a peruvian lily on a long stem.
Bucky had seen her from afar and had decided to accept the flower, but what he hadn't seen was that she looked absolutely angelic. That made him soft all over, and his voice was quiet. Probably better than what usually happened, which was silently panicking because he'd lost the habit of being social.
He took the flower and smiled. "Thank you, what's this one called?"
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He and Summer had been getting much closer lately, between their frequent conversations and her visits to the lab. Bruce had found himself looking to the lab door every time he heard anything, as if hoping she'd come walking through it... It was odd for him, as he was typically so deep in work that he didn't notice anyone right next to him. He was an oblivious man, but he knew that he wanted to be near her. So now he was walking the compound, in search of her this time.
Sant’cere is @rainaulthouse’s character. we used to rp together back when I had a couple Dragon Age blogs. and today’s her birthday and I like inflicting small children upon characters, so it seemed pretty fitting.
also sometimes i remember i made darrick a ranger
August 17 - Accidental baby acquisition
Darrick is scarcely a few meters past the tunnel entrance when he hears the sound. He can't quite tell what it is at first, still far enough away that the humans in the group can't hear it at all, Nathaniel instead offering Darrick a bemused look as he cocks his head at the distance.
"Problems?" Nathaniel wonders, though he dutifully falls silent when Darrick flaps a hand at him.
The noise persists, though it gets no closer, and after another moment of confusion the group continues along the tunnel.
It only takes a few minutes before another Warden is grumbling, "Bloody 'ell is that noise?" and by then they're close enough that Darrick knows exactly when he's listening to.
He drops his pack, getting rid of the weight that might slow him down. "Make sure everyone behaves," he says, not looking back at the rest of the team.
"Of course, ser," Nathaniel replies.
Darrick doesn't wait any longer than that before taking off at a sprint down the tunnel, ears straining to keep track of the sound.
He pauses for a millisecond at a T in the tunnel and veers left, and then ducks into an auxiliary tunnel that had been hastily carved through the wall. It opens into a small chamber--an expedition’s camp at some point, most likely--and Darrick grinds to an abrupt halt, staring at the source of the sound.
The little girl--she can't be older than two--abruptly ceases her crying as she tips her head back to stare up at him, blinking wide, wet brown eyes. Slowly, Darrick approaches, wary of frightening her off down another side tunnel.
It turns out he need not have bothered, as the girl sits down on her butt and resumes wailing, lifting her arms in a blatant demand to be picked up. "C'mon, now," Darrick coos as he scoops her up and cradles her against one shoulder. "Is all this noise really necessary?" he wonders, taking a cursory glance around the cavern. It's empty of anyone else, and if the girl was abandoned with any personal items, she's long since wandered away from them.
She's a dwarven girl, swarthy and dark haired and malnourished. Casteless, probably, just going off of what he knows about dwarves. As he grabs his water-skin and holds it to her lips, he finds himself wondering if she was abandoned out of desperation or at a family member's behest, though he supposes the end result is the same.
The water slops down her chin before she figures out what it is, and then she grabs onto his hand and drinks greedily. Her fingers tighten when he pulls the water-skin away before she can make herself sick, and she whimpers like she's going to start wailing again.
"None’a that," Darrick hushes her, hoisting her more firmly against his shoulder as he turns to go back the way he came. Unwilling to sprint while holding a toddler, the trip back is slower.
When the group comes back into view, they seem to still be where Darrick left them, and Nathaniel seems to have kept them from collapsing any of the tunnels or otherwise being jackasses. Of course, once he's close enough for them to see what he's holding, then the real ruckus starts.
Louder than anything else, there comes a question: "Who the fuck leaves a baby in the Deep Roads?"
Darrick holds the girl out at arm's length, giving her a slightly more thorough once over now that he's made it back to the group. Food and water aside, she still seems to be in one piece. Finally, bringing her back to his shoulder, he answers the question.
"Sometimes they dunno what else t’ do."
The group is quiet, and Darrick turns his attention back to Nathaniel.
"Keep headin’ towards the thaig," he instructs. "'m gonna get ‘er situated back at the inn an’ I'll catch up.”
Nathaniel gives him a narrow-eyed, dubious look. "No one here wants you trekking through these tunnels on your own," he points out.
"I'll coax Fang outta hidin’ and get ‘er t’ come with me," Darrick assures him. "I'll be fine."
Nathaniel visibly dithers for a moment, before he heaves a sigh, shoulders dipping. "Alright, fine," he concedes, and Darrick grins up at him.
"Yer m’ favorite," Darrick assures him, balancing the girl in one arm so he can pick his pack back up with the other. Nathaniel looks sort of unimpressed at the praise even as he helps re-situate the pack.
"Just stay in one piece, alright? I don't want your job full time."
Darrick gives him a grin that says 'no promises' and takes off at a lope.
He's nearly back to the cave mouth before the noise of the group has died down enough for him to realize he has company. He slows to a halt and peers over his shoulder, and he huffs out a breath of laughter at what he sees.
Russel's mabari, Belloch, cocks his head to one side before whuffing out a breath and trotting right up to him.
"They're all such worrywarts," Darrick coos to the hound. "Didja know that? Yer dad's a worrywart."
Belloch whuffs again, louder that time, and bounces from paw to paw before falling into step as Darrick keeps moving.
***
Their room at the inn isn't particularly large, and Belloch seems to fill most of it as he barges in first. Clegane, far too old for much real adventuring, hefts himself up from where he was dozing on Sant'cere's feet to halfheartedly greet the new dog. They follow each other in slow circles.
"That was...quick..." Sant'cere remarks as Darrick steps into the room, words slowing as he makes note of his company. First the child in his arms, and then the young dwarven woman following him, holding a toddler of her own.
"I have no idea what's going on," Sant'cere remarks plainly, setting his book down.
"Found 'er in the deep roads," Darrick states. "The little girl, I mean. Met Moria and 'er son in Dust Town."
"...A baby," Sant'cere states dubiously. "In the deep roads."
"Ee-yep," Darrick answers, setting the girl down on the floor for Clegane to snuffle at. Giggling, she tugs at his ears.
"...Is she staying here?" Sant'cere asks, alarm creeping into his voice.
"Only until I get back from the thaig," Darrick assures him, in much the way one might sooth a startled horse.
"I don't know anything about kids!" he protests sharply, and Clegane boofs at him warningly. Quieter, he adds, "You know that."
Moria clears her throat. "That's why I'm here."
"I...still have no idea what's going on," Sant'cere returns helplessly.
Striding across the room, Darrick insinuates himself onto Sant'cere's lap. It's generally a good way to help him get what he wants. "Look," he begins, cupping one side of Sant'cere's jaw, "Moria will handle the childcare part of it ‘til I get back. After that, she, her kid, an’ the girl will be comin' back top side with us. Once we get back t’ Amaranthine, I'll see if Oghren an’ Felsi have any suggestions on what t’ do with ‘er, an’ if not, I know enough surface dwarves I can ask."
"And...what's my role in this?" Sant'cere asks, shifting Darrick to a more comfortable position.
"You go with Moria whenever she says she needs t’ go shoppin’ and make sure no one gives 'er shit," Darrick replies simply.
"And there's no...I don't know, an orphanage or something you can give her to?" Sant'cere asks, glancing between Darrick and the little girl trying to climb onto Clegane's head.
Unwontedly serious, Darrick replies, "Binz, she's casteless. How much d’you think anyone cares t’ help?"
And Sant'cere doesn't really have an argument for that. With a groan, his forehead thumps down against Darrick's shoulder. "Alright," he grumbles. "Alright, fine. Just until Amaranthine."
***
Darrick gives Sant'cere a kiss, ruffles the little girl's hair, and gives Moria his blessing to sic Sant'cere on people as needed. He scratches Clegane's ears and scrunches up the dog's jowls before he leaves, Belloch trotting at his heels once again.
He detours back to the gates of Orzammar, stepping back out onto the surface just long enough to find where Fang lurks in the shadows. Reluctant but still surprisingly game, the wolf follows him back into Orzammar and he makes for the deep roads once again.
***
Moria isn't terrible company. Self-sufficient. Resourceful. Bitingly sarcastic. And most of the time she's handling any problem the little girl has before Sant'cere can even react. Her son--Beryl, she reminds him--is pretty quiet for a kid that young, and seems content to sprawl on Clegane like he's a life-sized plush.
Within the first night, Moria has dubbed the girl Trinket. She didn't exactly come with a name tag, after all.
By the second evening, Clegane has adopted both toddlers as his puppies.
And on the third night, needing to calm a fussing Beryl, Moria shoves Trinket into Sant'cere's arms and tells him, brooking no argument, "Keep this busy."
He holds her out at arm's length beneath her arms and she blinks at him, before she grabs at the end of his sleeve and giggles.
"I guess you're sort of cute," he acknowledges cautiously. "Don't start thinking that means anything, though."
If she thinks the spill of words coming out of him means anything at all, well, she gives no indication of it.
