as new and as old as the world

Isla

The change in Ever's posture is minimal, something that would likely go unnoticed by most, but Isla clocks the protectiveness immediately. And the surge of pride she feels for the man cradling their newborn against the world is enough to almost have her trying to sit up and reach for him - not that she does, not that she could even if she wanted to - but gods, this is a kind of love she's never known before, and it's almost frightening in its intensity. 

Instead, as his quiet voice hits the air and the nurses finish their checks on her, Isla settles back against the pillows and simply listens. She always loves to hear Ever think aloud or read from a page, his voice a comforting resonance that he's certain their daughter will also recognise and relax into. The origins of the name they've chosen for her feels quietly factual but intimately personal all at the same time, Isla wiping at her eyes again as he ends it with a simple hello, her smile radiant and slightly awed. 

"Hello, Fern," she echoes, feeling the edges of exhaustion trying to pull at her but trying, for now at least, to brush it aside. She almost asks what now, the thought enough to almost make her laugh. "I think she's going to look like you, you know," she says instead, playful and entirely serious at the same time.

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard