Linden, Linny, D'ren, Mireille, Cullen


Linden and D'ren bring Linden home from the Infirmary.

OOC Date


The Playboy Mansion

Not particularly one of the more ostentatious weyrs, though certainly of a larger size than most, this weyr immediately comes off as quaint and cozy with a distinctively Istan feel in the middle of High Reaches. Upon the floors are plush rugs, all the same creamy color, and every single piece of furniture found within the weyr is built out of a lighter wood, which borders on a creamy color, though it could be considered more off-white or pale yellowish. Tucked in corners and random spaces throughout the weyr are touches of green, various plants and flowers, all native to Ista, which add a definite pop of color to the decor. Found hung on the walls are pictures that vary from sketches of an assortment of Istan beaches to maps outlining the island.

The weyr is broken up into two distinct areas. Upon entering, to the left is an office area, which consists of two large desks that face the interior of the weyr, a large bookshelf set slightly behind them against the wall, which is packed full of books on any number of topics. Upon the shelves, in front of the books are a few jars of black sand set here and there, along with some seashells sprinkled all over the place, varying in size, shape, and color. To the right is a main sitting area, packed full of large and plush couches, chairs and footrests, all different and unique in their shades of cream, white, off-white, and tan. Two bookshelves are found there also, matching the other one as far as design and decoration.

The second area of the weyr, in addition to being the most important, is the bedroom, set apart by a breezy, white linen curtain. The bed is, obviously, the most dominant piece of furniture within the room, dressed in white sheets and pillowcases with a light blue comforter on top, placed in almost the direct center of the room, nightstands set on either side. Directly across from the bed on the far right wall is a miniature hearth, certainly still large enough to heat the weyr even if its size is unimpressive. In front of the hearth is an overlong and deep couch, unquestionably big enough for two people to lie together without feeling squished. Back behind the bed on the left wall is a recessed alcove, where dressers and chests are placed, a designated dressing area.

Afternoon? Evening? There's a point where Mireille will come back to Linny's weyr, on the arm of Cullen to ensure the safety of her clumsy feet up the stairs to the Queen's ledges. Summer shines through, night or day, in the gentle breezes, the warmth that heats the air, and it drifts lazily through the ledge and weyr, beyond. "Can you get that…?" she asks of Cullen, pointing to some item of nothing that's been left lingering on the floor, before turning and stuffing more things into her bag. "Then I think that's it, if you'll just toss that into the bag and… " The herder trails off, looking around, before murmuring absently, "Linny should be coming home soon…"

"How much stuff did you /bring?/" Grinds Cullen's voice as he uses one leg as a pendulum balance, sticking it out behind him so that his torso can bend down to scoop up the item Mireille has indicated. Maybe it's panties. Maybe he gives them a little elastic testing as he strolls towards Mireille's bag. "She say if it's a boy or not?"

Aikuonath is laying on the ledge, his bright hide gleaming in the noon sunlight and with fresh oil. He watches Mireille and Cullen arrive with a soft rumble for both of them, shifting his weight and swinging his head around to look at his straps hanging on the wall. Since, after all, he usually gets to go somewhere when Cullen is around. Then his massive head turns once more to look at the steps and his approaching rider. D'ren walks beside Linny, his elbow out to one side if she needs his assistance, but with his arms wrapped securely around the small bundle he holds against his chest. Nestled in a soft red blanket is little Linden, eyes shut tight against the brightness until D'ren adjusts the blanket to better shade his face. He squirms and fusses, almostbutnotquite crying. "It's a boy," D'ren says, answering his friend's question as he stands just inside the weyr. He looks down to see how Linny fared on their trek from the Infirmary, and starts to lead her towards the couch. "He's Linden, and he's blonde, and he's mine." Blame the lack of sleep for the goofy look on his face.

Aside from walking a little funny, for the obvious reason, Linny has made the trip up to her weyr with great success, smiling tiredly over at Mireille and Cullen as she allows her weyrmate to lead her over towards her couch. Slowly, carefully, she lowers herself down to sit on it, emitting a contented sigh once she's seated. A reassuring look is sent up to D'ren, almost giving him permission to leave her there and go and show their guests his son, because she knows how badly he's dying to. "And he's cranky all the damn time," she adds about their son, but at least she wears a little grin when saying so.

"It wanted—" Mireille starts to say, eyeballing Cullen when D'ren's voice rings out in the weyr. "You say that as if you're unsure he was yours, D'ren," she calls out, teasingly, peeking from behind the bedroom curtains to the pair that have come to the weyr. She wanders past Cullen, gives his arm a swat and says, "Go be manly together," with a snicker and then she's going /straight/ for Linny. "Are you okay? Did it hurt? Was it hard?" are rapid-fire questions as Mireille tries to take her friend's hand, concern flecked in her brown eyes.

"HO." Cullen rotates on a heel, his hands tossed to either side as if embracing the sight of these two haggard grinners. "So it /is/ a boy, then. I still don't know how the fuck you women can /tell/ these things…" As he says this he's walking towards the two, informing Linny as she sits down, "I'm in your weyr." Just a by-the-way. It's not like he comes in here a lot. He snorts in protest when Mireille HITS him, marching towards D'ren, "You heard the lady. C'mere, I'm dishin' out baby boy's first punch." The knuckles he reaches down to tap against the baby's brow would be very light, hardly the brush of hair on the back of his fingers as he peers down at it. "Heyo, squirt. Welcome to the land of th' menfolk." Then it's D'REN'S turn and the proud papa is given a clap to the side of the neck with a great deal more vigor, giving the tired rider a little shake, "BRONZERIDER. Your kid looks you /pickled/ him! He's hardly the size of my fist! What'd you do /wrong/?"

D'ren will not say 'like his mother'. He will NOT say 'like his mother'. "Like his mother." DAMNIT. He grins fondly at Linny and carries Linden carefully over to Cullen. "I was," he says to Mireille with a little blink. It's probably coincidence that when Linden's eyes open and settle on the cheesemaker after his first punch, that he begins to wail. His little hands jerk of their own accord, bopping Cullen back. Ha! Take that. D'ren just beams, rocking the infant as he's shaken by Cullen's enthusiastic greeting. "Thanks," he says to his friend with a slow but genuine grin. Then he laughs. "You're the first person to make him cry. Now you have to throw him a party and hand out salt." Cullen /might/ get the reference that rose, unbidden, from D'ren's sleep-addled and goofy parenthood brain. "Not really, he cries all the time." There's some worry in his eyes for that, briefly. "They say it's normal. He should settle down in a little bit." And while Linden does continue to fuss and cry, it's not /so/ loud that it makes conversation difficult. "She went to the dolphins and they told her," he answers one question. And then there's a blink before he answers the other with a tired grin. "Pulled out." It doesn't make any sense, but he's tired.

Linny sticks her tongue out at her weyrmate for his comment, surprisingly not angry by his retort. Hey, it's the truth. Now it's time for Linny to give that reassuring smile to Mireille, covering her hand with her other one and giving it a little squeeze. "I'm fine. It went…it was rather quick. Roslin took a day and a half, Linden took half a day. Can't really complain about that. Of course it hurt. It's not like childbirth is /enjoyable/," she adds, rolling her eyes for that thought. Eyes go to Cullen and D'ren, even if she knows Linden is in good hands with his father. She's still the mommy, and she worries. "Funny that the /men/ are the ones over there with the baby, oogling over him. Especially /Cullen/." As Linden starts crying, Linny rolls her eyes, her face instantly wrinkling up in an exhausted expression. "All he does is cry," she informs the Herder, the frustration so obvious in her voice. "The little guy is never happy, no matter what."

Shocked is the first expression found on Mireille's face, her eyes dropping to Linny and then peeking at D'ren again, before she tries to cover it with a smile, though the question still lingers in her eyes. "I'm sure he'll settle down. Maybe he just really misses being in his warm home." She glances back towards the men and whispers, "Yeah, it's funny, but it's good to see them doing their male time. They need it." Perhaps there's a teasing little grin to accompany that, before she says, "I'll be right back. I want to see your little Linden." A reassuring pat is gently laid on Linny's shoulder if she'll allow before Mir's off to check out the baby.

"Eat shit, assistant headman." Cullen answers D'ren flatly - answer enough that he remembers? "You have me out there feedin' people like a drudge an' I'm poisoning the lot of 'em. Ugh." The last sound comes at D'ren's TMI, grimacing a little as he seizes on anything /but/. "'I was' what? Unsure of parentage?" Blink? Having inspected the curious shape of naked baby-gums, he steps aside to let Mireille take up the gawking post, crossing his arms to comment to Linny, "Strong boy's a boy with a bit of rage in 'im. Give 'im time, he'll master it." Like a SAMURAI. "An' what's /that/ mean, anyawy? 'Especially Cullen'?" He's obviously joking, judging by the 'psh!' expression he's wearing, jaw all pushed forward and chin tossed up.

D'ren shakes his head at Linny. "It's music to my ears." But even music can keep a man awake. He catches Mireille's questioning look and gives her a small nod. Then he smiles as she approaches, turning his body somewhat so she can better see the infant. His laugh is enough reply to Cullen's insult, grinning at him. He'd clap him on the shoulder, but his hands are otherwise occupied. "Uh, yeah. We were. I was." Linny was always confident. He smiles at Mireille, then. "How are you feeling?" he asks, even as he adjusts Linden in his arms and beams down at his son.

"Go, go. Go and drool over all my hard work," Linny says to Mireille with a smirk, hands pushing at the woman to hurry her along. She winces, slightly, when she shifts positions, snorting as Cullen comes to beat on her a little bit. Even though it's verbally, hopefully she won't cry like her son did. "You're not exactly a man I could envision being all excited," and here, her hands do some JAZZ HANDS, "about a baby, that's all. It's not a slam or an insult to you," she assures him, and since she /knows/ the topic won't be laid to rest until something is said, she clarifies, "There was a /slight/ chance that D'ren might not be the father because I fucked up, but he /is/ so let's just drop it, okay?" It's a touchy subject for the goldrider.

Mireille stares at D'ren a moment before turning her attention to Linden and she does not say anything else on the parentage of the little baby. Instead, she leans forward and gently extends a finger to hook under the baby's tiny ones. "Hi there," she whispers quietly, expression pensive. "Congratulations," is something D'ren gets first, and then that extends past him to Linny as a soft little smile curves her mouth, and crinkling around her eyes. "Oh me? /I/ am fine. It is Linny you should be asking that question too. She's the one that did all the work," she teases, before pulling back to allow others to crowd around the baby.

Cullen endures the pat of D'ren's one-hand clapping with all the appropriate zen of a paradox. But he's got conversational fish to fry now with Linny, returning her Jazz hands with his own - nine fingers tossed out to the junior weyrwoman's ten, "Lady goldrider, I just punched a BABY! How often am I gonna get a chance t'do that? 'Course I'm excited!" The rangy grin sinks down like silt to the bottom of a lake at the wince from the new mother, though, his brow furrowing, and he asks more seriously, "You good?" Yeah, he's willing to let the topic go, casting neutral consideration back towards the infant in question, watching Mireille as she hooks a finger into the baby's hand, frowning a moment privately.

D'ren looks apologetically at Linny, nodding his head. He looks down at Mireille and smiles softly, watching as Linden's little fist curls instinctively around her finger. "Look at his little fingernails," D'ren whispers, awed all over again in the perfection of all of Linden's /parts/. "They said we'll have to trim them, or have him wear gloves so he doesn't scratch himself by accident." "Thank you," he then says a moment later, looking at his ex girlfriend with a look of many emotions. Gratefulness and exhaustion are the primary two. Especially when Linden stops fussing. He smiles, "Been asking Linny how she is for the last seven months. I'll tell you how she is. Fine." His smile is warm for the goldrider. But, then, yes, he looks concerned. "Want juice?" As everyone moves away, he takes the opportunity to walk to a chair and gently sit down, slouching in it so he can rest Linden against his chest, the baby on his stomach. Absently, D'ren plants a kiss on the boy's blonde hair, even as his emerald eyes flick from one person to the other in the room.

"You punched /my/ baby, Cheesemaker," Linny fires back, leveling a look on him, even if she knows that there's no way she could ever make him /fear/ her wrath. At least she has D'ren for that. Ahem. "And I'm doing really well, actually. Adjusting to having a newborn all over again. It'll be interesting when we have both Roslin and Linden here together, but at least /she/ knows how to behave herself and doesn't cry constantly." She catches the end of D'ren's conversation with Mireille, when it comes to how she's doing, flashing both of them a wicked smile before shaking her head at her weyrmate's offer. "You leaving already?" Lin asks Mireille, a considerable amount of sadness in her eyes and in her voice for that, looking at Cullen as well.

Mireille hangs back when D'ren walks away to find a seat, glancing from Linny to D'ren and to Linden before half-turning her head to glance at Cullen in profile. Linny pulls her back with her final question and she steps forward and clasps her hands in front of her and smile. "Yeah, I'm going to head back to Ista. My sister sent a letter telling me the eggs are getting really hard and it could be a sevenday or so, besides," her eyes slide to Linden, "You and D'ren need to have some time with your son. You said he'd be moving down here, but I've had a /wonderful/ time. Thank you for having me and you have a beautiful son."

"Your baby was /mean-muggin'/ me, lady goldrider, 'course I'm gonna punch him." Cullen explains this with an air of dignity, hooking his thumbs off the front of his belt in completion of 'so there' posture. He happens to be glancing at Mireille when she glances to him and his lips thin. He nods towards D'ren and his tiny parcel, "The bronzerider's already lookin' like /he/ gave birth. All of y'all are gonna be climbin' the walls if you're all packed into one sharding weyr together. 'Sides," this is added to Linny in particular, "Now that you got yours on the /outside/ you travel soon's your body's ready. Just attach thy kindle to the bronzerider's teat over there; he won't know the difference." His grin has positively way too many teeth in it.

D'ren gently rubs his hand against Linden's back, relaxing in the brief silence as the infant sleeps. He notices the looks between Cullen and Mireille with a small frown, half concerned, half just confused. "Everything okay?" he asks, before giving Cullen a 'har har' look. On the ledge, Aikuonath shifts, and D'ren groans. "Linny," he says, nodding his head to the dragons. "Thank you, Mireille, for being here. And Cullen, thanks for coming to see him."

"Packed into one weyr together? Cullen, look around." Both hands lift up to gesture towards her weyr as Linny looks smug. "I can't imagine that /four/ people, two of them babies, would be packed in my weyr." She's got one big ass weyr, and it's sheer perfection. "We could have /five/ kids and we wouldn't be packed in here." But immediately a finger is pointing to D'ren. "Don't get any ideas." Then, eyes go to Mireille, and her expression warms. "Well, thank you for visiting. I ho—" But eyes unfocus for a few moments, and then, she's giving both Cullen and the Herder an amused look. "If you are about to head back to Ista, you two better go now. Aevryscienth is about to rise, so if you don't want to get in the middle of a gold flight, it's best to go now." Kaelidyth leaps off of the ledge and disappears between in preparation of the event, while her rider starts to push herself to stand up, gingerly, to give the proper goodbye hugs.

"Everything's fine," Mireille assures D'ren, and Linny's about to get a warm smile of her own before her words drain the color from the herder's face. "I" She looks back to Cullen and shakes her head, "No, I want to leave — don't want to get in a — gold flight." Perhaps that is the cause of her unease, the rising tide of Aevryscienth's proddiness, which causes Mireille to duck back behind the curtain with all undue haste, "I'll just get my bag!" Having never gotten the chance to really experience a gold flight so /close/, today is the not the day she wants to start. "You two" she calls out from where she might be scrambling to shut the bag, "— have a beautiful baby."

"S'fine." Cullen answers D'ren at the same time as Mireille, issuing back-handed gesture. "An' 'course I wanna see see your spawn, boy. I live here y'know." Whatever that means. The slow rise of energy in the room as his own shoulders packing hard, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, can't say I wanna hang aroun' for it either." He pursues Mireille barking at her, "/I'LL/ get the bag, you nattering wherry, you just get yourself waddling down those sharding steps." He snatches said bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he begins to back out the door with a lopsidded grin for the new parents, "Kid looks good! Like a baby should, pink, wrinkly and toothless. Congrats, all." He gives Mireille a little yank by the back of the dress. It's like a game: spot the cotholders. "See ya 'roun' you two!"

D'ren closes his eyes, sharing a quick burst of mental effort and conversation with his lifemate before Aikuonath rises and springs aloft after Kaelidyth. He vanishes between as well, and D'ren gives an audible sigh of relief. Just after his departure, a very large, sturdy blue is touching down on the ledge, and D'ren smiles, lifting one hand to toss a salute to the Inferno rider. "Jallie and Serith will take you home," D'ren says, briefly pleased with himself. "Thank you," he says once more to Mireille. He nods his head to Cullen in farewell. "Later!"

Eyebrows draw together at the way Cullen yells at her friend, but considering it's really none of her business, Linny keeps her mouth shut. However, she does say, "Thank you so much," when it comes to talk of their son and his utter perfection, directed at both Cullen and Mireille. "Have a safe flight, and I'll write you soon, Mireille." And then, it's just the two of them. The three of them. The goldrider's eyes land first on Linden and then on D'ren, and they soften considerably when on her weyrmate. No gold flight lust in her eyes, that's for sure. Just sheer and utter love and happiness. (Say it with me: AWWWW.)

D'ren is feeling the lust, but is too damn exhausted to do anything about it. Sadness.

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