small beginnings

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

To no one's surprise, Isla has taken to her abrupt change in circumstances with all the pragmatic adoration of both a doctor and a new mother. Sleepless nights are a given, waves of sudden emotion to be expected, and with her taking a break from her duties at the clinic, living day by day has become the norm. Their daughter is, in her professional opinion, reassuringly ordinary, not an especially difficult baby but neither one content to sleep the night away without complaint.

Professional opinion only counts for so much, though. In Isla's personal opinion, Fern is extraordinary in every way possible, from her ten tiny toes to her big blue eyes to the way her cooing definitely sounds like the scientific term for hunger. She hasn't admitted the latter to anyone yet, luckily, not even Everest - and that's probably a good thing too. Because however well Isla might have taken to motherhood, she'd be blind not to see the cracks starting to form in the man she loves most.

It isn't that Ever is a bad father - quite the opposite in fact - but his attentiveness and hyperfocus are starting to come at a cost to himself. Isla has gotten up extra early today in fact, in an attempt to let him sleep a little longer, all but creeping through the house with Fern dozing in her arms so she can settle in the rocking chair by their balcony. It's a grey morning, rain pattering softly against the windows, and while Isla misses the sunshine of Longheat, it's nevertheless a peaceful start to the day, and she won't trade that for all the sunbeams in the world.

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through

"THE BABY IS GONE." The words tear through the apartment before Everest has fully processed that he is saying them aloud. The crib is empty. He knows he checked it correctly—he always checks it correctly— the tiny indentation gone, no infant weight, no quiet breathing. For one suspended second his mind refuses to populate the gap with explanations. It leaps immediately to catastrophe.

Barefoot, half-awake and fully electrified with panic, he crosses the bedroom in three long strides and bursts into the living space. "Isla?" His voice is already too loud. "Isla!" His chest tightens sharply as his eyes sweep the room—sofa, kitchen, the small table—every surface catalogued in frantic succession. He pivots toward the sliding doors and rushes forward, and there, on the balcony in the grey wash of rainlight, Isla sits in the rocking chair with Fern tucked peacefully against her chest.

For half a heartbeat, Everest simply freezes in the doorway, shock slamming into relief so abruptly it almost staggers him. Unfortunately, the damage is already done. His shout has snapped Fern from sleep, and the quiet morning fractures into a thin, outraged wail. Everest presses a hand against his sternum as if to physically hold his heart in place. "Oh," he breathes, voice collapsing into a whisper of pure relief. He steps out onto the balcony, rain-cooled air brushing his skin, eyes fixed on the small furious bundle in Isla’s arms as if verifying she is real.

"You moved her," he says, the words not accusatory but breathless with aftershock. "She was not in the crib." His hands hover uselessly for a moment before settling on the railing, knuckles whitening slightly as the adrenaline drains out of him in slow, shaky waves

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

Having been enjoying the (yes, rare) peace and quiet of the morning, as Ever's voice cracks through the apartment Fern isn't the only one jolted awake in surprise. Isla is already on her feet, instinctively hushing and rocking the infant, cradling her closer against her chest as she starts wailing in earnest. "We're here," she calls just as Ever comes into view, dishevelled and barefoot and only barely out of bed by the look of things. His oh has her raising her eyebrows a little, concern flooding her expression even as she fights the adrenaline also thundering through her body. 

Her is everything okay? dies on her lips as the aviator states the very obvious, leaving Isla blinking at him in confusion while the rest of her is focused on lulling their daughter into soft complaints rather than outraged cries of displeasure. "I... those two things are correlated, yes," she agrees, brow furrowing now as he steps up to the balcony railing. Once Fern is no longer announcing her good morning to the neighbourhood, the Remedy settles her carefully in the bassinet nearby. 

"She has two parents," she reminds Ever as she joins him at the balcony, reaching out to rest a warm hand on his arm. "And sometimes I will pick her up, and she won't be where you expected her to be. But that doesn't mean anything is wrong. I just wanted to let you sleep a little longer."

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through

Everest stands there in nothing but his boxers, hair flattened on one side from sleep and chest still rising a little faster than usual as the last of the panic works its way out of him. The rain-muted light makes him look pale, the abrupt wakefulness still lingering in the tightness of his shoulders, though as Isla’s hand settles against his arm he begins, slowly, to settle. He swallows, nodding once as she explains, accepting the logic even if his body is still catching up to it. Fern’s complaints soften behind them, and the quiet of the morning begins to stitch itself back together.

Tilting his head slightly, he offers Isla a crooked, almost sheepish smile. "That is true," he concedes. There is a brief pause before he adds, dryly, "However, it is also possible that something improbable had occurred." His brows lift a little as he gestures faintly with one hand, as though outlining the scenario in the air. "For example, I might assume everything is fine, only to discover later that you and Fern have been quietly abducted and are currently being transported to the Fingers for some nefarious purpose, only to then find your trail cold because I assumed that things were fine." He gives a small shrug. The reasoning is not dramatic to him; it is simply how his mind works. If the worst possible outcome is considered first, it is far less likely to catch him unprepared. "I would prefer to panic briefly," he says, the wryness in his voice deepening, "than to overlook something catastrophic because I assumed normalcy."

Even as he says it, the edge of apology creeps back into his expression. His gaze flicks toward the bassinet where Fern now rests, then back to Isla. "I am sorry, though," he says more quietly. "For startling both of you." Ruffling a hand through his hair and then leaning forward to press a kiss against Isla's temple, the contact seemingly more to calm his own nerves than as just a good morning, Ever straightens and nods toward the kitchen. "Shall I make us some tea?"

You are interrupted by a sharp, high-pitched screech, accompanied by a dazzling fork of lightning that leaves its image burning behind your eyes for a long time afterwards.

You swear the afterburn looks almost like a face, the mouth stretched wide in an agonised scream. If you blink too quickly in the wake of it, the face starts to look like someone you might know.

---

You have encountered one of the Scream Rain SE serendipities! You may use this to complete requirement 1. of the seasonal event. Please note: this serendipity CANNOT be used for levelling purposes.

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

"Mmmmhm," Isla hums patiently, a playful smile trying to creep across her face. "It is always going to be possible that something might happen," she adds nevertheless. "But for what it's worth, if anyone did try to abduct either of us, there would be nothing quiet about it." Not for Isla and certainly not for Fern, so Everest can sleep easy in the knowledge that his little family will assuredly wake him in the event of a catastrophe. (Yes, even a mild one).

Turning more towards him as he leans in to kiss her and giving his arm a gentle squeeze, Isla accepts the apology with ease now that her nerves aren't on a knife edge. "We recovered quickly," she says. "No harm done. And yes, please. Tea sounds go--"

Interrupted by the sort of shriek that feels like it splits the air and a flash of lightning that can only be described as eldritch in nature, to say that Isla flinches is an understatement. She finds herself huddled against Ever's side quite before she's realised it, breath caught in her throat, and behind them Fern starts to wail in earnest in the bassinet at yet another interruption. "Holy fuck," Isla breathes, still blinking away the after-image of the lightning. "What was that?"

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through

Everest tilts his head slightly at her reassurance, the corner of his mouth tugging upward with faint skepticism. "There are many magics and narcotics capable of rendering a person silent," he reminds her mildly, though he isn't able to elaborate further as the world begins to scream.

The sound slices through the rain like metal tearing, high and violent enough that it seems to scrape along the inside of his skull. At the same instant the lightning splits the sky, a jagged fork that burns white-hot through the balcony doors and leaves a searing imprint across his vision. Everest turns instinctively toward the window just as the rain outside begins to shriek.

He spins back immediately, eyes wide, every nerve in his body firing at once and without thinking, he steps forward, placing himself squarely between Isla and the open balcony, as though his body might somehow intercept whatever madness the storm has decided to become. One arm comes up around her shoulders, pulling her in against his side as the scream of the rain dies as abruptly as it began. Everest exhales hard through his nose, his heart still hammering violently in his chest. Behind them Fern wails in the bassinet, adding her own outraged protest to the aftermath.

He looks down at Isla, shaking his head once. "I don't know," he says honestly, and after a moment, he releases her long enough to stride to the sliding doors. The curtains are drawn closed with a sharp, decisive swish, as though fabric might serve as a barrier against whatever else the sky has planned. He stands there for a moment, shoulders still tight, then glances back toward her with a small wince. "I know we have discussed this before," he says carefully, "but perhaps we should revisit the possibility of moving." Somewhere where imagined thieves couldn't run away with Isla and Fern and where the sky didn't scream at them.

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

I know, Isla might have playfully quipped back, I'm a doctor. But of course there's no medical (or even scientific, she bets) explanation for why the sky begins to shriek at them, and whilst later she'll remember this and feel an immediate pulse of adoration for the way Ever places himself between them and any potential danger, for right now it's difficult enough just trying to get her bearings. Taking a few deep breaths to try and slow her heartbeat, which has ramped up to thunder in time with Ever's, as he steps away she moves immediately to the bassinet.

"I would not be adverse to that," she says with a huff of laughter that isn't entirely playful, Isla scooping Fern back into her arms to offer comfort in the face of this latest interruption to her nap. "Shall we make that tea and discuss the possibilities?" Rocking the infant and settling into what she imagines will be some time before Fern will suffer being put down again, Isla is already stepping pointedly back and away from the sliding doors.

"We could move down to the ground area of Haulani," she suggests. "It might be nice to have a garden."

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through

Everest nods at once, the suggestion of tea and a defined conversation giving his mind something orderly to settle around. "Yes," he says, voice steadier now. "Tea and discussion." He turns toward the kitchen immediately, the familiar routine of the space helping smooth the lingering tension from his shoulders. The kettle is filled and set to heat, the quiet clink of porcelain following as he retrieves two mugs from the cupboard. Small, practical motions. Predictable. From the counter he glances over toward Isla and Fern, watching the way she rocks their daughter with easy instinct. At the mention of moving lower into Haulani, he nods again.

"That would be safer," he says, pulling the tea tin closer and measuring leaves with practiced precision. "You and I can both fly in emergencies. Fern cannot." He pauses a moment, considering the geometry of the city, especially that of the lower portion. "At sea level," he adds thoughtfully, "there are more ways to flee from potential threats."

The word garden, however, pulls a small smile from him. "Mateo would approve," he says, glancing back at Isla. "Though he might attempt to oversee the entire initial setup himself." The smile lingers a moment longer before it fades into something more thoughtful. Everest sets the spoon down and turns slightly, studying Isla with the quiet attention he usually reserves for complicated problems.

"I do not want to remove you from your life here," he says after a moment, voice gentler. "Living above the clinic has been important to you." His eyes flick briefly toward the hallway that leads back down to it. "You built something here, and I would not want the decision to move to feel as though it was taken away from you."

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

Everest moves to the kitchen and Isla takes to slowly walking around their living space as Fern's cries soften to the odd complaint, and then finally silence again. She speaks in a low, warm voice to the infant as she moves, explaining the phenomenon that had so rudely startled her awake, and musing on possible causes ranging from the divine to the scientific. 

"We would have access to the boardwalk and lower Haulani," she adds to their pros list for moving down a level. "And there would be fewer steps to take a tumble down from Fern's perspective." Not that they are anywhere near that yet, but the medic can't help but smile at the idea of her toddling around. "Though we'd have to take the sea into account, of course, and teach her to swim sooner rather than later. Neither of us have particularly aquatic shifts, though I suppose we could call on Remi and Ronin for their help."

Turning back towards Ever, a chiming laugh leaves her at the idea of Mateo cultivating their garden like a project. "I would let him," she says readily. "He knows just as much about medicinal herbs as I do, if not more. As long as he sets me up a little swinging bench in the sunshine, he can do as he pleases with the rest."

But then Ever is turning towards her and Isla can almost sense the reservations before he speaks. In response, she crosses the room to him and leans in to plant a soft kiss against his cheek. "You are always so sweet," she tells him with another kiss. "But I think this will be a good thing. I have already agreed to take some time away from the clinic. If we move that will let me create a divide between work and home. And besides, the clinic can always expand up into this space once we've gone."

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through

Everest listens as she circles the room, his attention drifting between the kettle beginning to hum and the quiet cadence of Isla’s voice explaining the morning’s chaos to Fern as though she were an attentive student rather than a recently awakened infant. At the mention of calling on Remi and Ronin, his shoulders tighten just slightly, the motion small enough it might go unnoticed if someone were not looking for it. He clears his throat before answering. "There are many shallow, calm places along the shoreline," he says pragmatically, pulling the mugs closer as the kettle begins to steam. "She will not require the depths necessary for a kraken or leviathan for quite some time."

The idea of a garden bench shifts his mood easily enough, causing a grin to tug at his mouth. "I have just the right wood for a swinging bench," he says, already half picturing the design in his head. "Something that will weather the salt air and smell pleasant in the heat."

When Isla crosses the room toward him he pauses, brows lifting a touch as he leans forward to meet the soft press of her kiss. His hand comes to rest naturally on her hip, gaze flicking downward for a moment to Fern, the fondness there immediate and obvious, before returning to Isla’s face. "And you are sure?" he asks gently.

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

"Mm, that is true I suppose," Isla agrees with a gentle nod, smiling down at Fern and tickling her cheek with one soft finger, too distracted, for better or worse, to notice the way Ever bristles at the mention of the Taliesins. "Living in Torchline, I expect her to be a bit of a water baby regardless," she continues with a quiet laugh. "I see children down at the beach who are better at swimming than walking."

Brightening at the thought of a swinging bench made with the aviator's own fair hands, Isla grins right back at him and steps in closer against him; it might make it a little more difficult to make their drinks for a few seconds, but this is important enough to delay that routine, she thinks. "You ought to have been a carpenter rather than an aviator," she jokes. "And yes, I am sure. I'm quite excited about the thought, truth be told." The admission is an easy one, Isla gazing down at the baby in her arms now sleeping soundly again.

"And you? How are you doing, with all of this?" Not just the moving, she means, but the abrupt shift in their circumstances in general.

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through

Everest nods at that, following her line of thought easily. "There are many benefits to early swimming," he says, matter-of-fact as he reaches for the kettle. "Infants also possess reflexes that assist with buoyancy and breath control. They are, statistically, quite difficult to drown when properly supervised."

His gaze lingers a moment on Fern, softening at the sight of her settled so completely against Isla. At her teasing, he lets out a quiet chuckle and lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. [asy]"Alas, Mateo inherited a skyship rather than a workshop."

The surprise at her excitement is subtle but present, his brows lifting just slightly before easing again. He leans into her for a brief second longer, grounding himself in the closeness, before stepping away to finish the tea. Water pours, leaves steep, and over his shoulder, he answers her question, tone thoughtful but steady. "It has been overwhelming," he admits, without hesitation. "But not nearly as unmanageable as I anticipated."

He glances back briefly, then returns to the task, watching the colour of the tea deepen. "In fact, it has been quite manageable," he continues. "The variables are unpredictable, but they are predictably unpredictable. There is a pattern to her disruption." A faint hint of dry humour threads through his voice. "So I have not found myself particularly distressed by the lack of sleep, or the sudden alterations to her schedule." Only to when she disappeared from her crib.

He lifts the mugs, turning back toward her fully now. "It is... a system I can adapt to. One I find that I like more and more."

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

"Well that's a relief to hear," Isla says through a quiet laugh. "Not that I imagine either of us will be keen for her to be forced to use those reflexes unless it's absolutely necessary." An early swimmer, yes, but not giving her the option to drown at every available opportunity. Stepping away to let him finish making their tea and resuming her absent, almost instinctive rocking of the baby, Isla lifts her gaze to the rain outside and laughs at Ever's remark.

"Well perhaps he should consider inheriting a workshop," she says. "You know, for future hobbies and endeavours." Like swinging benches. And garden planning.

She listens without judgement as he speaks of their new reality and how he's been forced to adapt to it, stepping out of the way of the counter now to allow him to take their tea to the safety of the coffee table where it can't leap out of his hands at random and scald Fern. "...I think that is the sweetest, most you way you could have described it," she says eventually, warmth threading through her voice as she moves to carefully sit down on their couch. 

"I'm glad, really. It won't surprise you to know that I was a little worried that this would cause you a lot of stress, given all the variables that aren't consistent."

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!