Linny, F'dan


Backdated: F'dan stops by the infirmary to pay a visit to Linny after she gives birth, and they both receive unexpected and unwelcome surprises from one another.


It is evening of the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


Infirmary, Igen Weyr

OOC Date





From the astringent smell of redwort, to the gleam of counter and cabinet, this place positively defines the concept of antiseptic cleanliness. Despite the yawning exit to the Dragonhealer Courtyard, the floors remain scrupulously swept of sand and particulate matter. Back behind the counter where the healers usually are, are shelves full of bottles and jars, as well as cupboards hiding away more delicate items that shouldn't be exposed to too much sand. Beyond the counter, there is the Desk, where patients are checked in and taken to one of the examination areas by a healer. The windows are usually kept open for the flow of air, but there is both shutters to shut out dust storms, and curtains for other occasions.

If Linny was glowing throughout her pregnancy, her face could light the whole damn Weyr now that she finally has her little baby in her arms, and that baby is, in fact, very little, given that she arrived a month or so early, much to the surprise of everyone. But now, wrapped in a fluffy pastel yellow blanket, the bundle of joy is silent and thankfully sleeping, while all Linny just gazes lovingly down upon her. A head full of dark hair is visible, as are surprisingly plump and adorable cheeks as she’s held safe and sound in her mother’s arms, who holds one of the newborn’s hands in hers, gazing at her tiny fingernails. Then, that little hand is lifted to Linny’s lips, pressing a kiss against her miniature palm as she continues to just watch her daughter sleep, completely and totally enamored with her. The healers have left the four-time mother alone with her daughter, and there’s no one else in the room with them: it’s just a proud mother and her beautiful brand new baby girl.

It’s hard to judge exactly how late or early F’dan is to visit. For most fathers this would be late, but then his relationship with the new mother is hardly good, and he’s a busy man. That and he really, really didn’t want to be required to touch something still… sticky or however they are. So it is that it’s late evening when F’dan arrives in the infirmary, boots loud in the quiet room. There is the murmuring of his voice with a healer, the exact words impossible to tell but the gist of it clear: what’s happened, how it was, what has arrived. There’s a pause between the end of F’dan’s murmuring and then the moment that the curtain around Linny’s bed twitches, pulled aside just slightly for F’dan’s face to peer round. “Linny? You awake?” His voice is low, and trails off as he catches sight of the little baby. F’dan may not be Pern’s father of the turn, but Faranth they are cute when they’re clean and quiet and preferably asleep.

Any other time, F’dan’s arrival would be met with some sort of scowl or smirk or sarcastic comment, but it’s hard for Linny to be anything but ecstatic as she’s holding her newest child, and so when she looks up at him, that beaming smile easily transfers from sleeping daughter to new father, but she only looks up to briefly acknowledge him, then eyes drop back down to the bundle in her arms. “Come in,” she murmurs loud enough for him to hear, not at all worried about waking their daughter up. Sofia has been properly and thoroughly fed, and after making her grand entrance, she’s exhausted, tiny lips parted in a small ‘o’ shape as she dozes. Linny’s fingers lightly brush against those adorably pudgy cheeks, still in awe of just how beautiful she is. Sure, every mother thinks their baby is the most gorgeous there ever was, but little Sofia actually is: a credit to her good looking parents, no doubt. Dark eyes lift to rest on him again, and never before has Linny looked so much like a woman: glowing, beautiful, and with F’dan’s daughter in her arms.

The healer confirmed outside that the baby had ten fingers and ten toes, but that doesn’t mean that F’dan doesn’t have a look over her as he draws closer. Cool eyes scan over what skin is revealed, checking little pudgy features and the exuberant wave of brown hair. The blanket of course covers most of the baby, and F’dan’s hardly going to demand an examination at this precise moment: he’s interested, but he’s not entirely stupid. It’s reassuring to F’dan’s sense of the order of the world, to see Linny like this: maternal and peaceful and undeniably feminine. Not trying to fight Thread or throw her weight around like a man. He steps forward to lean one hip against the side of the cot, still not touching the baby or the new mother. It is a weird situation, after all, the echo of that boy she’s seeing hanging in the ear. And presumably her father, who is not a man F’dan wants to bump into. As a rule fathers never are. “How are you feeling? Was it…” a long pause which makes it evident that he has little idea how birth works beyond the basics and has no desire to learn, “alright?” His eyes flick down to the baby again, scanning over her face — though it’s unclear what F’dan is fixed by. A normal father’s pride? Disappointment in her sex? Checking for signs of himself?

"Honestly, there for awhile, I thought she was going to kill me." Linny won't get into the specifics with him, mostly because if he wanted to know he should have been there, but that statement alone should speak for what she went through to get the little one into the world, since a full twelve candlemarks of labor, and maybe even a little more, definitely requires something said about it. "You can sit," she offers, tossing her chin towards the edge of her cot beside her as well as tilting her head to offer him the chair alongside of it, giving him the option of how close, or not, he wants to be to her. The chair already being next to the cot should speak to the fact that either she had someone there with her during the labor process, or someone has already visited the pair, coughR’larcough. Eyes study his face as he looks over their daughter, trying to figure out just what he’s up to with the close scrutiny. Obviously, it's clear that she resembles Linny, but F'dan is there in the details: most noticeably in the shape of her eyes, even if they are closed at the moment. "Do you want to hold her?" Linny asks, no doubting the hopeful lift in her voice, gently shifting Sofia in preparation of the transfer, while the baby stays completely asleep still despite the movement.

It does not remotely occur to F’dan that he should have been there for the birth. Even if he’d been seeing Linny, it’s just not a man’s place. Just as he wouldn’t expect a woman to take a punch for him, he doesn’t expect to be asked to have anything to do with periods or birth or other unpleasant female things. It blows his men that some mind would be there. To see a man’s favourite thing get all… mangled! His face stays neutral as he settles down into the chair indicated, and if he’s thinking about Jalebren or R’lar he doesn’t say a thing about it. Not his business after all. When the hold is offered F’dan looks up at Linny, one eyebrow arching with the faintest thread of disbelief. “You sure that’s a good idea? Haven’t exactly had practice.” So many babies, so little actual baby-seeing. He’s hardly a hands-on father in any sense of the term.

When he picks the chair as opposed to sitting on the cot with her, it means that Linny has gingerly shifting so that she can swing her legs over to place them on the ground. Despite this being her fourth child, things are still…tender post-birth, not to mention that she has to be careful not to wake the sleeping baby. “Not only do I think it’s a good idea, I insist upon it.” F’dan might not be the first or third or even fifth person to hold the baby since she made her grand entrance into the world, but he’s going to be somewhere on the list if the goldrider has anything to say about it. Thankfully she does, which is why she stands, and immediately, before he has a chance to protest, Linny is carefully transferring their daughter into F’dan’s arms: knowing that he likely hasn’t had much practice, she assists him in getting the newborn properly in place and comfortable. Mostly, she just fusses with the blanket and his arm positioning, but eventually, she must be happy since she steps back and settles herself down onto her cot once more, looking intensely pleased. “F’dan, meet your daughter. Sofia.”

F’dan holds the baby with incredible awkwardness, the arms so graceful in throwing firestone bags or putting on Kadanth’s straps suddenly all elbows. This came out of there? Faranth. He doesn’t even want to think about the damage that does. “Sofia,” he says with a little nod. For a while there’s silence, him just looking at the little infant, though there’s none of the softness or joy that most new fathers might have: F’dan is interested, but he’s not about to well up anytime soon. She should become really interesting in oh, about fourteen or fifteen turns when she can Impress that gold dragon which is her birthright, as far as he’s concerned. Continuing the family legacy: she’s going to have a lot to live up to, with parents like that. After a while those cool eyes look up towards Linny. “Thought you were convinced it was a boy.” Is that the tiniest hint of reproach? Well, he at least tries to keep it under wraps while they’re surrounded by healers. He doesn’t want a scene, and if F’dan’s convinced women are crazy all the time — which he is — he’s sure that shortly after birth is probably even worse.

Not even F’dan and his loaded statement can ruin Linny’s amazing mood, and to answer him initially, she simply stares back at him with that unbreakable smile on her face, eyes dancing with merriment. “I thought at one point it was, and I did want it to be a boy at the time. But then I realized that it didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl, because you weren’t going to be involved in raising it anyway, and the idea of having another little girl— what woman doesn’t want that?” A simple shrug comes next, and Linny’s eyes fall to look at Sofia, obviously softening as she takes in the sight of their beautiful daughter before glancing back up at him. “You two look good together,” she murmurs as a little grin tugs at her lips, looking much like the Linny that used to curl up next to him at night, declaring her love for him before drifting off to sleep, and for a short period of time, she appears to get lost in his eyes. There’s a sudden tension in the air, the ghost of words she wants to say but it’s neither the right time nor place, and instead, she goes with, “Thank you.” Even if he didn’t willingly get her pregnant.

That smile, those eyes: they have as little effect on F’dan as sunshine on cold High Reaches rock. He doesn’t make any comment to Linny’s accusation regarding his lack of involvement; it’s true, after all, and F’dan doesn’t see anything shameful in it. There’s a reason that fighting riders foster out their children, and a wingrider’s schedule has nothing on the Weyrsecond’s. If he can hardly find time to shoot the shit with his best bud and have a beer now and again, where would a baby fit? Th’bek is interesting — but he’s a boy and a rider, of a brown no less. That catches F’dan’s eye. At Linny’s thanks he arches a brow. “You don’t have to thank me for having sex with you. This,” a look to the baby, “was unintentional.” A moment’s pause and then he’s shifting forward in the seat, Sofia held forwards towards her mother. “Well, I’m glad she’s healthy and you’re alright. I should leave you to sleep.” Though of course his real reason for wanting to go has more to do with how strange this situation is: a woman he used to sleep with, a baby he intends to hardly see, her current boytoy due back sometime.

If all of that has little effect on him, then it’s good that it’s gone quickly with his response, though Linny can’t exactly look as pissed off as she’d like to be, since she’s thrilled to take Sofia back, leaning forward to take the baby into her arms, immediately lifting her up to press a kiss against her forehead. The baby is shifted to lay against her chest as Linny gets settled back against her cot, soothingly patting Sofia’s back, even if she’s completely asleep and the action does nothing. Maybe it’s more meant to be soothing to the goldrider, given the way her eyes are completely focused on F’dan, brows furrowed. She’s quiet, and combined with that look, whatever is coming next can’t be good. “Why did you come?” she finally asks, tilting her head to the side while she regards him curiously. “Obviously not for her.” Poor little Sofia. “I’m thinking not for me, either, given your recent attitude towards me.” Though the bronzerider seems to continue to hold a grudge against her, Linny seems to be past it all, if that prior, softer look was any indication. “So why?” There’s no hostility in the question, simply an innocent inquiry.

F’dan is already on his feet when Linny speaks, apparently ready to push aside the curtain and head out. He pauses for a moment, keeping his face away from her before he lets the linen fall again. When he turns to her his expression is emotionless, blank of the playful grin or angry scowl that usually alternate over it. Indifference is not something usually seen of new fathers in birthing rooms, but F’dan is not a usual father. All of Reaches doesn’t have ice as cold and dispassionate as his look. “Because it wouldn’t look great if the Weyrsecond had a kid with a goldrider and didn’t visit it,” he says honestly. “That and I thought W’rin might be pissed. So.” The faintest hint of a shrug. If she thinks he’s had an attitude he’s not going to argue it, the whole thing a waste of energy. Women will think what they want, F’dan will think what he wants, Pern will keep on turning. The curtain is reached for again, though he doesn’t turn just yet. “Is that all?”

Linny has no visible reaction to his answer, though certainly it’s a punch to the gut and a knife in the heart hidden well on the inside, putting the strength of her poker face to the test. The only thing she does do, with her eyes deadlocked on F’dan, is move her head to press a possessive kiss against the side of Sofia’s, on her ear, before nodding at this final question. There will be plenty of time for venomous words, hatred spewed, and perhaps that fight the Weyrsecond wants Linny to bring to his weyr. Right now, her main focus is on that precious little baby cradled so lovingly against her, even if Linny more resembles a protective momma bear, the way her hands are pressed against her daughter, holding her tightly to her, a fire burning deeply inside of her eyes, glaring at him until he makes his exit and leaves the two alone once more.

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