in over my head

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Ronin didn't know what the hell he was doing. Fuck, he didn't even know what he was wearing at this point. Vai had called it a sling or a wrap or something, and apparently his daughter went in it and it went on him and that let him use both hands again. Which, you know, was great. For doing stuff with. Still, if you asked him to get it off without dropping Aoife, he'd probably laugh in your face. If he did that sort of thing anymore. (Laughing). The weather was mild but cloudy as he made his way through the Domiciles, a soft breeze tousling his dishevelled hair, his footsteps slow as he tried to find the midwife's clinic Vervain had told him about. Ronin looked... well. He looked like the mother of his newborn had died less than a fortnight ago - enough said. Still, as he finally located the clinic and tapped at the door, he glanced down at Aoife and... saw her, maybe, for the very first time since those precious few hours with Vanya. She had been born with a full head of dark hair, impossibly tiny (to Ronin, anyway, probably average to anyone with a clue) and with big eyes filled with starlight. No, really. There were stars in his daughter's eyes, and Ronin saw Safrin's handiwork whenever he gazed into them.