Post by Willie Barbary on Dec 19, 2008 12:09:43 GMT -5
Willie fidgeted with her clothes for what was probably the twentieth time. Miller had tried to tell her that his parents wouldn't care if she showed up in a burlap sack, but Willie had just shooed him out of the bathroom with a scoff. The mixed girl hadn't gone to any humongous lengths or anything. She'd gotten the impression that Miller's family was a little on the simple and rustic side.
So she'd settled for a somewhat simple blue cotton, knee-length dress she'd picked up on the Cove before they left. Nothing too fancy, but not a complete wreck either. A pair of matching sandals were on her feet, and her hair was somewhat held back on one side with a long blue barrette with fake diamonds set inside it.
Willie stared at her reflection, not seeing the rather pretty girl staring back at her, but rather the unmarried, nearly-three-months-pregnant girl about to go tell the parents of the father of said baby about her impending condition. Miller was convinced that they'd be happy about it, but Willie couldn't help but think about all the different things that could possibly go wrong.
Her hands dropped down, her palms gently smoothing against her tummy. She was still mostly flat, though the faintest hint of a roundness was starting to form. And every now and then she would get a fluttery butterflies sensation, which Dr. Reyes had informed her was actually the baby moving around. A heady thought, one that had made the situation seem even more real in her mind. And, surprisingly, a huge surge of devotion and protective instinct had welled inside of her then. Willie already loved her baby, tiny little fetus that it was even now, and her mind and heart were rebelling rather violently at the idea of putting herself in a situation where that tiny being could be in any way threatened.
"Don't worry kiddo," she whispered, as she had become wont to do in the past week. Her nails--now much shorter as she'd cut them down to match the length of the one she'd broken, and currently painted blue to match her dress--gently caressed her middle and the tiny life inside it. "Your daddy won't let anything happen to us," she continued firmly. "Your dad's one of the best fighters in the galaxy, you know. And he won't let anything happen to us. Not in a million years."
It wasn't clear at that point whom she was trying to comfort, herself or the baby. At any rate, her pep-talk managed to get herself out of the bathroom at least. One small step for man . . . .
So she'd settled for a somewhat simple blue cotton, knee-length dress she'd picked up on the Cove before they left. Nothing too fancy, but not a complete wreck either. A pair of matching sandals were on her feet, and her hair was somewhat held back on one side with a long blue barrette with fake diamonds set inside it.
Willie stared at her reflection, not seeing the rather pretty girl staring back at her, but rather the unmarried, nearly-three-months-pregnant girl about to go tell the parents of the father of said baby about her impending condition. Miller was convinced that they'd be happy about it, but Willie couldn't help but think about all the different things that could possibly go wrong.
Her hands dropped down, her palms gently smoothing against her tummy. She was still mostly flat, though the faintest hint of a roundness was starting to form. And every now and then she would get a fluttery butterflies sensation, which Dr. Reyes had informed her was actually the baby moving around. A heady thought, one that had made the situation seem even more real in her mind. And, surprisingly, a huge surge of devotion and protective instinct had welled inside of her then. Willie already loved her baby, tiny little fetus that it was even now, and her mind and heart were rebelling rather violently at the idea of putting herself in a situation where that tiny being could be in any way threatened.
"Don't worry kiddo," she whispered, as she had become wont to do in the past week. Her nails--now much shorter as she'd cut them down to match the length of the one she'd broken, and currently painted blue to match her dress--gently caressed her middle and the tiny life inside it. "Your daddy won't let anything happen to us," she continued firmly. "Your dad's one of the best fighters in the galaxy, you know. And he won't let anything happen to us. Not in a million years."
It wasn't clear at that point whom she was trying to comfort, herself or the baby. At any rate, her pep-talk managed to get herself out of the bathroom at least. One small step for man . . . .