(no subject)

[deshabille_maladicta]

Maladicta was listening to the sounds of her home. There was the general white noise of rustling flora; the occasional scrape of a wolf toenail against wood as Shenlong rearranged himself in his sleep, out on the porch; very far away the rhythmic lull of the ocean; and now, the newest addition to the soundscape, the very soft intermittent fuss and exertion sounds her daughter made. Yawning, stretching, attempting to roll over, waking up, not wanting to wake up, falling asleep, eating, refusing to eat- it all seemed to require an exhalation, a small noise to indicate some effort of some kind was being made. Occasionally this was broken by the screaming or the crying, although that was relatively rare, at least by Maladicta's understanding of how frequent it ought to have been. The general consensus was that babies never shut up, but Olivia was more reticent than most, apparently.

Although this, too, as the island had demonstrated, could be taken to further extremes.

Olivia was swathed in a linen scarf, folded over and wrapped around her, and lying on her back in the center of Maladicta and William's bed. Everyone now and again, she made a sleep-sound, fidgeted, and went back to not moving. Maladicta was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at someplace past the floor, or beneath it. She felt drawn and exhausted, and not from being a new mother, which was drawing and exhausting enough. Olivia hiccuped and made a fussy, upset sound, as though she had disturbed herself. Maladicta reached back and rested her palm on the baby's stomach and shook her gently. After about thirty seconds of this, Olivia quieted and fell back asleep. Maladicta pulled her hand away, then dropped her face into it, and sighed.