A Happy Event - Eventually.

[Wendy]

The Fick girl allows herself to be led back to Calomel Hall. On their way, she keeps to herself, never letting Rhaena touch her or become near enough to do so. Her mind is on her sister, Pem, who works with Governor Calomel and his council on an almost-daily basis.

She would know what to do right now, and by any luck would be visiting the Hall on behalf of their family, and probably bringing the governor's paperwork and briefing him on various dealings taking place at the office. Pem will take care of this, and possibly find out who this one thinks she is - that's what Susan thinks.

By the time she's returned to the home of the new parents, Susan is drenched by the rain, trembling, disturbed by the events of the morning, and has decided to dislike Rhaena - for the tone she used with her out on the road. Being nearly fourteen and only a farmer's kid herself, even she can do better while addressing a person.

[Cinnabar]

There is time enough for speculation among those milling around the kitchen as matters upstairs are resolved - as much as is possible for now. Once he has helped his wife to bed there is an opportunity to satisfy the curiosity of the farm's tenants, and any other well-wishers who might have made the trip out to Calomel Hall since the news reached town.

So it is that the newborn infant is wrapped up warmly in a soft blanket and a tiny bonnet pulled down over her head, for while she has proven thoroughly inured to extremes of heat, the Governor will accept no risk of his daughter catching a chill. Her... unusual features are well-hidden for now, and likely to remain so until he and his wife have determined how they will approach the matter. He has changed his own clothes in the meanwhile for garments less scorched, and things seem to be more or less under control for the moment. Let this be a happy event, and leave the complications until later.

There's a smile for his wife and also for her cousin as he cradles the child carefully in his arms, preparing to present her to an eager crowd.

"I won't keep her down there for long, Cam. You both need your rest. Lavender, would you like to come down? Or would you rather stay up here?"

[Raveness]

Lavender would glance between Cambree and Cinnabar and the baby and back. Slowly she'd shake her head about following him, while a finger nervously finds its way around a auburn curl. Lavender was never one for crowds or people, in general. Especially the type that could turn out with pitchforks.. badly.

"Do you think Cambree needs a doctor? I could go.." She offers to leave. Flee, perhaps. It doesn't sound like a bad idea, afterall. She has it all planned already in her head. Off to the stable to get her horse and then ride and ride until she gets the doc's. The cold rain doesn't even hinder her thoughts.

Away from the house, away from the coyotes here. Away... she must get away.

[Jirai]

Quite calmly, the young Trader would escort the even younger girl to the room in which Glenn had already ensconced the other two. There was a brief glance for the mapmaker as the scaled woman pulled the door firmly shut behind her. Then she turned her odd gaze to the other three.

"You have," she said calmly, "One minute to offer any explanation you might posses. I suggest you explain to me, rather than to the Governor."

Not that it really mattered. The minute was for herself, preparation for what she planned on doing - and did she succeed, the three women would posses only the memories of a perfectly uneventful childbirth, a perfect daughter for the Calomel's.

[Glenn]

Glenn Burnie, as it so happened, was keeping an eye on the door. This was a tame solution considering what they could have done, perhaps should have done. Oh, Calomel would never get his answers, but this wouldn't exactly be a difficult sell to him. He was so damn naive in some ways, so prideful in others, but this was about the safety of his child, about everything he had worked for here. Just because he didn't like something, didn't mean it wasn't the right.. no, the necessary choice.

This was just an extreme situation, perhaps the most extreme situation.

It wasn't as if they would do this everyday.

Was it?

[Cinnabar]

There's a moment's thought for Lavender's suggestion, before Cinnabar shakes his head. "I think she would do better with your company - we stick together, hm?" A smile that is probably intended as reassuring, a glance to be sure that the infant is well-wrapped, and then he's moving for the door.

"As I say, I'll not be long."

Out of the door - closed quietly behind him - and down the winding tower stairs for the kitchen; the room is unsurprisingly crowded, warm and bustling with excited speculation and anticipation at what news might come from upstairs. This falls quiet as Cinnabar carefully pushes open the door with one shoulder, and blinks in some surprise at quite how many people have crowded in. He grins a moment after, though, holding up a bundle of blankets and linens in the middle of which can be seen a tiny face creased in the sleepy scowl of the newborn. Fortunately he doesn't need to raise his voice to be heard, and is certainly cautious about alarming the infant when he speaks.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pr-... no, overjoyed to introduce our daughter, Callista."

--~--

Mistress Roslin sits quietly, staring into space, stunned at the enormity of how far things have gone wrong. Her assistant Elizabeth weeps and sniffles to one side, clearly terrified of what retribution might be visited upon them as a result of the midwife's actions. Roslin looks up only when young Susan is ushered in, then turns to regard Rhaena, taking a moment to properly hear her demand. It is to her credit that she tries to muster what dignity remains to her, swallowing and absently brushing hands down over her skirts as she speaks.

"Whatever happens, it's my doing. I'll take what comes of it, but spare my girls. Please." Unable to look to her young apprentices, unable to think too long on what she has brought down upon them all. Slow breaths to calm herself before continuing, and some hint of the strength of will that this disaster has sorely tested.

"It's what's done here, in Myrken. It doesn't happen often, but when it does... Widow Jessop, who taught me the craft, she had such stories. Awful stories. Children born wrong, born terrible. There was one woman birthed a child with a head like a dog. Another with no arms or legs, just a long body like a worm, and teeth. Something about this place, miss. Twists babies in the womb, makes monsters of them." She seems old, almost frail as she recounts these stories, voice low and strained.

"Sometimes they live, sometimes they get kept - hidden from sight, locked away, but alive. It don't end well. Maybe it starts with some sheep or goats getting killed, but it never stops there. People go missing. Sometimes they get found again - bits of them - more often they don't." She shakes her head, hands unconsciously twisting the cloth of her skirt.

"It needs stopping before it starts. So it's what's done - better, kinder thing to do. Better than letting some new thing loose on Myrken Wood. It's how I was taught, it's how my mistress was taught, back for years. Doesn't happen often, but when it does, that's what you do. What you have to do."

[Jirai]

For a moment, there is understanding in the girl's odd, unfocused eyes. But only a moment, quickly subsumed in fury. This cuts far too closely.

"There is a -difference,-" she begins, only to stop abruptly.

"No. I need not explain this to -you.-"

The girls are simple things, and there is no need for more there than a rearranging of memory, certain events removed, certain images gone, until what remains is perfectly uneventful.

Roslin is another story, though.

For her, leaving it at reordered memory is no longer sufficient. She deserves -more.- A hidden longing, perhaps, to become a teahouse girl. And gathered courage to go out and pursue that tightly held dream.

Yes. That would be perfect.