Dead Star Dockyards

Twenty-six letters, two cases, and a small collection of semi-common punctuation marks totaled sixty elements on her chalkboard. Four rows of thirteen letters and a smaller fifth with only eight punctuation marks were analyzed closely by Petunia, carefully inspecting her work for mistakes before checking against the reference paper. Some variance was to be expected, the difference between chalk and ink was insurmountable, however she wanted her handwriting to be clear. A 'V' should be a 'V', not a 'U' or 'N'.

"Good." Gently placing the slate on the table, she brought a cup of water to her lips. Petunia had long since begun learning proper words and grammar, but she still took the time to write down the alphabet like this every now and again. It had been described to her as a fundamental component of the language, and her initially shaky grasp on the symbols had scared her into the excess of practice. Now she considered dropping the practice, confident that they had been forever ingrained in her mind. Besides, she'd be using them much more frequently now.

"Do you require any assistance, Miss Petunia?"

"Not at this time. Thank you." Petunia offered a soft smile to the woman in the night gown. Now wasn't what one might consider the proper hour for such attire, however her circumstances excused it. "Have you come up with a name yet?"

"Her majesty has suggested 'Katherine'."

"Katherine? I assume that to be a Terran name."

"Indeed. I am told the name means 'pure' and 'innocent'."

"A wonderful name." Petunia did not understand where many of the names for her people came from. Some were simple, flowers or things found in nature, however others were not. They possessed a degree of meaning often carried across in the translation of the name, just not in the same way Terran names did. Honestly, the further she analyzed them the more she became convinced these names were no more than a collection of grunts and clicks to distinguish one person from another. "Is she sleeping?"

"Of course. After a day of crying so much I can't imagine she has the energy to remain awake." She caressed the now empty hump on her stomach, supporting her weight with another hand on the table. "How about you? Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I won't lie and say I'm not worried about the delivery, but I have more pressing matters to attend to currently." Petunia patted her own stomach, sighing at the realization she would soon be rendered immobile. "Do you require something to eat?"

"No, I simply wanted to stretch my legs. As nice as the bed is, I feel like I'll be stuck there forever if I don't get up an move."

"Hm, duly noted. I'll make the most of my freedom while I still have it." Petunia and the lady shared a chuckle. "Can I count on you to help me when the time comes?"

"Without question." She attempted a bow, stopping before she became unbalanced.

"Um . . . she's crying again." A pair of ears poked out from the hallway opening, the head attached to them followed close behind. "I don't smell poop."

"I'm so sorry, your majesty." The woman once more attempted to bow, going a bit further than before but still stopping before it was complete.

"I imagine Katherine is hungry, then. Babies are quite ravenous, or so I've heard." Petunia smiled, finding it odd such information was considered uncommon nowadays. "I'll prepare something for you to eat in a few minutes. Feel free to bring her out here if you so please."

"Should she be amenable to such movements I may take you up on the offer." She waddled Titanyana's direction, hand on a chair, table, or the wall the entire way.

Petunia, once more alone, frowned. She was slightly disappointed that her spot as the 'first mother' of Nectar had been taken from her, sure, however the more pressing concern was the crash course in being a mom. Never had she ever operated under the delusion that such a task would be an easy one, yet the degree of stress she would be subjected to raised alarms. As much as it pained her to remember, the lack of a husband with which to share the burden of child-rearing would show its face much sooner than she would like. Even if she had other people to make up for the physical labor . . . she didn't want to think about it anymore. He was gone, she was here, and the baby was coming.

"Hm." She took one last look at her work before erasing it. Dinner was her next priority.

knock knock

"Come in." The woman's husband had been granted the right to stay in this 'palace' for the time being, and now was about the time someone would drive him back.

"Nothing but cold receptions all day." The voice that responded was not that of an exhausted laborer though. "Did someone usurp my title or something?"

"S-sir Strauss?!" Petunia recoiled upon realizing her mistake. "I-I didn't realize you were back!"

"Diana didn't say anything?"

"She, um, we haven't really talked much today." Donovan raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "When she hasn't been doing the rounds or digging her nose into the tablet, she's been fawning over the baby."

"The baby?" He appeared genuinely confused. "Oh, right, the baby. I take it you've been helping out the lucky mother?"

"Indeed. I've resolved myself to learn as much as possible to prepare for my time, but it doesn't look easy."

"Nothing worth doing ever does, though I imagine its easier for me to say that than you. I'm not the one who has to deal with it." He removed his dress shoes, dirtier than they would be from a short trip from ship to car and car to house. He must have taken a trip somewhere before he could get his boots. "Sorry for the mess."

"I'll have it cleaned once I finish preparing supper."

"Thank you, but don't push yourself. Call someone over if you need it."

"Understood."

- - - - -

"I desire children, Donovan."

"So I've been told." He brushed off the assertion with the same level of monotony it had been presented with, squeezing her shoulder as he did. Their nighttime romp had concluded nigh on half an hour ago, Donovan noting an increased level of vigor from Diana. This wasn't entirely unusual given he was fresh from a round of evacuations, however the recent developments in this abode of his clearly had an effect. "I thought we agreed to wait."

"Can't you just give me one early? A teaser of what's to come?" He made eye contact in the darkness, swearing he could see a haze of pink where her irises would be.

"Would you be able to raise it while performing your duties?" She snuggled closer, pressing her chest against him and snaking her leg between his own to maximize the area of suggestive contact and 'persuade' him. The attempt was fruitless though, Donovan possessed the self control and willpower to fend off this erotic assault. He went so far as to counter with a smooch to the forehead. "And let's not forget the aspect of Split. Are you sure you want to give birth to a child when you don't know how to care for it in the womb?"

"I can ask Chestnut."

"Chestnut has never given birth, Diana." He was having to pull out all the stops on his arguments this time. Now that she had actually seen a baby and held one in her arms the desire to be a mother was raging. She'd developed a rampant case of baby fever. "That aside, you haven't progressed much with Split. You've got about as much as the Nekh we are saving."

"I'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about you, sweetie." Gently massaging her back, Donovan mentally prepared himself to go another round. He was strong enough to make the ultimate decision on when she would have a child, but he understood his duty to control her urges required participation. The only way she would 'win' would be to convince him she was ready, either by presenting a convincing argument or wearing him down with constant pressure. As dead set as he might be on the matter, Donovan knew he would eventually succumb to said pressure because the more time passed the less reason he had to deny her. His best defense wouldn't be to respond with 'no', but to try and convince her why now wasn't the best time. "What would you do if our baby isn't born with enough Split and ends up getting hurt?"

"Mmrrrr." Diana grumbled into his neck, evidence of how effective his riposte was. He identified a connection with a baby that hadn't even been conceived yet and made an argument about how her actions might harm it, provoking her blossoming motherly instincts into conflict with same carnal desire to be a mother. It was an imperfect application of grand strategy, making the enemy fight itself. "Then give me enough."

"Hm?" Donovan fumbled for yet another plastic packet as Diana pulled herself atop him. He anticipated her switch being flipped, in fact he felt the prior calm had simply been a refractory period so she could catch her breath, however he didn't quite catch her request this time around.

"You've been holding out on me, Donny." She sat up on his thighs, cutely moaning from a brief stretch as she allowed him to install the safety measure. "I've been flailing without a clue while you swim on ahead of me."

"How do you mean?" Content with the countermeasure's status, a pair of hands made their way along Diana's quads to her hips, guiding her towards the zone of interest. He made to move those hands back towards the center of the femur after infiltration in a bid to appease her desire for control, but was intercepted by her own hands. His initial assumption that she wanted them to focus on her upper body and provide extra stimulation was overturned when she instead interlocked fingers and squeezed. The unexpected sensation provoked a response Diana clearly thought to be desirable, evidenced by a few further pulses of squeezing and the application of her upper body weight to the connection. Donovan quickly found himself dropping his hands down to keep her from toppling. "Diana?"

"I might not be good at it yet, Donny, but I can tell. You're leaving me behind and I don't like it." Donovan stared up towards his lover, skin shining from the sliver of moonlight through the curtained window. He wasn't focused on the shape of her body though, he had seen and felt her enough to know it by heart. No, his attention was drawn to her irises, which he could confirm were now glowing a much more vivid shade of pink.

- - - - -

"G'mornin Donny." A pair of lips sealed his response before he could form it, silver eyes greeting him with a mischievous glimmer. "Tired?"

"A little." He diverted his attention from her face for a moment to gauge the time, earning a whine of protest in the process. What little light bounced its way beyond the curtain to illuminate the room was much brighter than Donovan normally saw when waking up here. "How about you?"

"I feel rejuvenated." Diana grabbed his free wrist and moved it towards her hips.

"Again?"

"You sound displeased."

"I mean, we have guests . . ." Imagining the rest of the house to be busy at this time, he rejected her lewd advances.

"That hasn't stopped us before."

"What of the baby."

"She won't know what we're doing."

Donovan stared into Diana's eyes, once again noting the pink hue. Subconsciously, he had been willing to brush off the image from last night as some sort of illusion borne of exhaustion and a modicum of erotic delirium amidst dim lighting. He couldn't ignore it now, not when he was of sound mind and in a better lit environment. Diana wouldn't be aware of this, and as far as Donovan knew human eyes could not generate light, leaving the only explanation to be related to Split.

Whether this was a result of his increasing sensitivity to it, Diana's growing strength, or simply a facet of previously undiscovered biological functions Donovan couldn't yet know, but his bet was on some combination of the three. His mind wandered to the glowing of the seed Arc could not detect, vaguely remembering something about the Velar and Skwiven, about how they could see a light others couldn't. Per the words of Nemo, the 'emperor' that had been promised to her people would 'glow', and apparently he shone with a particular brightness. Of course he had no clue what that meant at the time, associating it with something like infrared or ultraviolet patterns on his skin. Now he thought he understood.

Further analysis of Diana's vibrant eyes revealed he wasn't actually seeing pink. Her eyes were the same silver they had been ever since the Great Csillacra's operation, they just 'felt' pink - whatever that meant. He'd need a bit more time to analyze the phenomenon and come to a proper conclusion, but for now he would assume it to be some superposition of his ability to sense split onto his vision.

"Still, it would be rude to assault the ears of a loving husband and wife with your screams of passion during the day." Any desire to go at it with her had been killed off by an urge to analyze the phenomena before him.

". . . so you want me to bite the pillow? I didn't take you to be so lewd." The pink hue increased in intensity, suggesting to Donovan this color was somehow connected to eroticism, or perhaps more accurately a 'desire to breed'.

"How about we do something different."

"Something different?" Diana kissed him again, hand snaking down to garner further excitement. "You want to try-"

"No, Diana." He interrupted her advance by grabbing her hand, locking fingers to give himself more leverage. "Do you remember what you said last night? About how I was leaving you behind?"

"Hm?"

"What if I take this time to teach you?" He preemptively spun a strand of split, shimmying his arm out from beneath her head so he could grab hold of her other hand. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Diana seized up as the strand entered her hand, not anticipating the interloper. It wouldn't hurt her, this much Donovan knew from experience, but it was weird.

"Take it."

"Take what?"

"The strand. Take it." At this point in time he was able to keep a single strand coherent outside of his body for an undefined length of time. He couldn't do it indefinitely, he just didn't know the limits yet - though it was at least an hour. "Try to get it to your other hand and give it back to me."

At the moment his plan was to gauge her control and pathing over the strand by keep track of it as it moved through her, after which he would ask her to give him a strand to demonstrate how he did it. Then he would go over some of the basic concepts he had discovered and tell her how he practiced concentrating split into his core. If he felt they still had time, he might even consider experimenting with 'donating' split for her to use.