You go to the Cadgwith's Harbour.

Cadgwith's Harbour
Vastness prevails... the ceiling arches echo-high overhead, while the irregular curves of the walls seem barely able to meet around the space that is a necessity of this queen's weyr. A wide hearth strains to provide sufficient warmth while the tide of Cadgwith's great stone couch sweeps far into the immensity of the room, dwarfing to incongruity the table, chairs and a few other human accoutrements. Even Pyrene's perennial clutter seems cast adrift in the draconic proportions of the cavern and the little nook in the rock that serves as her sleeping alcove is often overlooked at first glance. Yet there's a cosiness inherent in these diminutive touches that grants the outsized grandeur of the weyr an undeniable feeling of 'home'.
On the ledge, you see Alymath.
Gold Cadgwith is here.
You see Origamith, LlamaBloo, and Stuffith here.
Pyrene is here.
Obvious exits:
Ledge

Alymath> Lis ambles aimlessly to the weyr.

Lis
Lis' oval-shaped face is filled out with a pleasant pudginess that adolescence couldn't melt away, upturned nose sitting 'tween mud-puddle brown eyes. Half-spirals of brass unwind into soft waves just above her shoulders, trimmed for practical riding purposes but long enough to satisfy her vanity. Skin fades to a honey'd alabaster, pouring over her now-smooth face and any uncovered skin.
Curving lines embrace and exalt pregnancy in all its glory, rich shades of cornflower blue tucking here and draping there in the soft folds of a maternity dress. Resting low over sturdy shoulders, the broad neckline crests near her collarbone to plunge modestly into the upper half of a heart above an enlarged, maternal bust. Cautious darts fit the sturdy, lined fabric to the high waistline, a triplet of drawstrings tying up excess fabric in the back. The faded blue heads from there to a scant handspan above the floor, thrust forward by the noticable curve of a child soon to be. The design combines elements of loose and fitted even in the sleeves: close-fitting, but with extra slits filled in with a spirited flash of satiny cobalt for free and easy movement.
Midnight's black coils in a single loop around the blue of twightlight, flashes of celestial silver seen through night's colors - looped thrice, and be-tassled twice. Soaring through an evening sky is a garish green ribbon matching Alymath's hide, and sitting just beneath it a stray wave; this all the knot of a wingsecond of the 'Reaches.
Lis is 27 Turns and 15 days old.

Pyrene
Slight and spindly, her frame is nevertheless held as stubbornly tall as possible, falling only just shy of average height. Curves have in part softened the sharp angles of old, leading sharp and scrawny towards thin and trim, while breast and hip bear slim testament to her motherhood. Still, there's nothing neat about the shrewish set of her limbs, or about the skimpy plait that struggles to keep her hair under control. Lank dark brown tendrils escape it to plague her point-nosed, thin-lipped face, only serving to emphasise the peakiness of her complexion. Yet if there were any doubts about her vitality, the grey eyes that snap out from beneath dark brows eliminate them as effectively as twin thunderstorms.
A light cotton blouse drapes shoulder to hip, while loose fawn trous enclose almost as thin legs, stretching to sandalled feet. They may not be practical for keeping the cold out, but at least they provide no encumbrance when dragon-caring and the unadorned fabric is all the more comfortable for its simplicity.  Poldhu is playing with Pyrene's knot.
Black, blue and sea-washed gold tangle their way over the badge worn by all members of Esprit wing.
Pyrene is 25 Turns, 10 months, and 22 days old.

Pyrene waves idly to Lis as she enters (at a waddle?). "Did you climb up the stairs or squeeze yourself onto Alymath?" she wonders, since both options seem singularly unlikely. "Have a seat dear. Want something to drink?" From her couch, the freshly oiled and half-asleep Cadgwith croons a dozey welcome.

Lis wanders in as the light wanes, cast shadow rocking back and forth as she waddles as gracefully as she can. "As long as it's not alcoholic," laments the greenrider with a heavy sigh, settling her bulk into a seat just as heavily - if not permanently.
"I'm not that fat," remarks the greenrider idly; "I can still get on Alymath."

Pyrene grins. "Must be a scramble," she notes. But she briskly sets a glass of juice in front of the woman. "I've got ice if you want some too. Has Kariel any idea when you're due?"

"Oo. Ice." Lis burbles in delighted surprise, leaning forward as she tucks her legs up underneath herself; even if the weather is getting colder, no reason to refuse such a treat. "I've come to the conclusion it's never coming out. And I think Kariel's just poking around for his own amusment, these days," declares the greenrider with an uncomfortable shift and a disgusted snort.

Pyrene chuckles as she rattles a few chunks of ice into the glass, and then adds her own serving to the table. "Well, if you must repeat the experience. I can't say I envy you," she says, with all the airy comfort of one who's survived the ordeal once but not again and certainly not at the moment.

Lis communicates her response in a snort again - getting awfully inarticulate, in her old age, isn't she? "It's definately going to be the last." On this assurance there is no doubt. "I'll bathe in green stuff if I have to, or even..." She pauses to gulp, allowing to her own feelings on the thought, "...skip between. But no more."

"Or you could just restrain yourself and D'renn," Pyrene muses sweetly. "I don't think between would work on you, Lis. Considering how you've carried each child to term so easily, I've come to the conclusion that your womb is lined with wherhide." More's the pity. "Are you thinking it'll be a boy or a girl?"

Lis lets out a bit more than a snort this time - though it's still a thoroughly disturbing cackle. "Right. And wherries might fly out my -- wherhide? Aw, you flatter me, Pyrene, but I've seen my own afterbirths." The greenrider shudders at the memory, idly wiping the lap of her dress in unconcious effort of cleanliness. "Mmm. Alymath's been changing her opinion - says it's supposed to be out right now, and it's messing up her ability to tell." Psychic Alymath? Faranth forbid.

Pyrene laughs. "You didn't eat your afterbirths? That's what the aunties used to say we should do back at Kernow. They said that if we didn't eat the afterbirth, the breast milk would turn sour and stunt the child's growth." Short herself, she shrugs this aside. "Is Alymath normally any good at this?" she wonders. Cadgwith raises her head in mild curiosity, tipping one eye towards Lis-belly.

Lis looks rather green at the suggestion, blurting the question on her lips. "No! Did /you/?" That's a disturbing image, Pyrene bloody-faced and devouring her afterbirth. In regards to Alymath, the woman can only shrug. "She's been spot on for Donis and Cerise, but it could just be a fluke thing. After all, she's got a one-in-two chance of being right..."

Pyrene chuckles wryly. "I've no idea what happened to my afterbirth. I wasn't really ready for a meal at the time, as you recall..." One hand rubs the base of her own belly unconsciously before she shrugs it off and looks at Cadge. "So, what do you think?" The leviathan queen gives an eerie thrum and then appears to settle back into her sleep. "She says a girl, but I think that's just because she's remembering Sephne."

Lis' face falls into a moue of sombre introspection, remembering Pyrene's trying birth: "Quite true, quite true." Cadgwith's opinion is given a raise of her brows, but she preaches her superstition to Pyrene. "You never know; after all, if they can pop themselve Between, no reason why they can't have other talents to. Like dolphins." Remember, of course, that Lis doesn't know the first thing about how dolphins do it; she's just extrapolating.

Pyrene rolls her eyes. "Well, as long as R'sli doesn't start giving odds on it," she decides. "How's D'renn coping, dare I ask? Intending to be at the birth? Or avoiding you whenever possible? I remember F'ish alternated between smothering me with paternal pride and then forgetting me altogether."

Lis wrinkles her nose in sheepishiness, admitting, "I think he's kind of put off. I was really cranky starting my third trim-ee thing, and I made him sleep in his own weyr a couple times. I apologized, but he's still hurt." And probably frustrated in that delightfully male way that drives them to harass caverns' women.

Pyrene chuckles without humour. "Well, he's never been pregnant, so he has no call to be hurt over anything /you're/ going through." Men with feelings... what will they think up next? The weyrwoman rocks dangerously back on her chair, playing with the melting ice in her otherwise empty glass. "And of course once you've /had/ the baby, he'll take full credit, no doubt." Pyrene's not anti-men, just anti-blue.

"I'll sic you on him, then," Lis volunteers with a hint of snappiness behind her alacrity. Weyrmated life isn't as easy as it looks. "Oh, /naturally/," agrees the greenrider with a cynical drawl. "You'd think he'd carried it to term himself. Huh." Though she's bristling, that 'huh' was more of gutteral gasp as her stomach ripples. "Thank you, sprog. Teasing me again, are you?"

Pyrene winces. "Break your waters over my rugs and I'll throttle you cheerfully," she assures her friend. "Want to walk around a bit.. or lie down? Or anything else to help with it?" Never having suffered false contractions, she's not certain of how one deals with them.

Lis sticks her tounge out at Pyrene, eyeing her bed wistfully. "Lying down would be best, I think. And if you've got anything warm I could just sort of rest on my belly..." Besides, bed sheets are easier to clean than rugs, aren't they?  The greenrider makes to get up, clenching her teeth against another contraction.

Pyrene wrinkles her nose. "Firelizards?" she suggests helplessly, even as Poldhu sidles up to Lis, humming ingratiatingly. "I can do a hot water bottle for you in a couple of minutes though..." She moves to assist the greenrider, nudging the table aside so that she's got a clear path to waddle to the bed.

Lis galumphs awkwardly to the bed, one hand under her belly which ripples with disturbing alien sensation every once and a while; the greenrider can't help but stare at it in fascination, moving of its own accord. "The humming's sort of soothing, Pyrene," Lis chirps cheerfully as she arranges herself in Py's bed - probably the only time she'll ever by allowed in it. A deeper hum vibrates through air and stone from the ledge, at which she barks, "I didn't ask for /your/ opinion!

Pyrene winces. "Oh yeah. I remember the humming being /really/ soothing when I was lying in agony in the infirmary." She blinks at Cadgwith as she too takes up the refrain, cued by Alymath. "Didn't know they did it for false labour too. Firelizards, I can understand. They're thick as two short planks..." Swatting Pol away, she settles some pillows behind Lis before rooting out her hot water bottle and bustling off to heat water for it.

Treneere walks in from the Cadgwith's Ledge.
Treneere wanders in, not bothering to knock, and carrying a broom behind her. "Helloooo. Reeeeene." She steps around Uglydragon with a muttered 'excuse me,' and looks s'more. "Reeeene? I've come to clean your weeeeeyr." She's decided it could use it. And maybe she'll get paid.

Lis burbles reassurances after Pol - though she doubts he understood them. Her own fair have been conspiciously absent, but kids are considerably more involving, even the unborn ones. "I really appreciate this, Pyrene. Dunno why they'd pick /now/ - I don't feel heavy or like I have to pee or anything like that..." Squinting at the form entering, she can't help but wonder if she's hallucinating. "Treneere?" With a broom? (Then again, why not?)

Pyrene eyes Treneere. "You're meant to ask permission before barging in." She could have been doing anything! "Anyway, Lis and I are busy. Come back later." And she returns to where Lis is lying on her bed. Now there's one for the Reaches gossips.

Treneere decorously makes a face at Pyrene, bulging eyes and all. "She's mine, not yours. I can stay." She drops the broom on the floor, now, content in having located Her grownup. "What'cha doooooing?"

Lis is fully and decently clothed, however; but you never know the mind of Trenny, with its kinks and twists and turns. "She's getting me a hot water bottle, because I'm having contractions," she explains to Treneere clinically, pitching her voice to carry under that tenor/bass rumble of dragon humming.

Pyrene mutters somethiing under her breath that most likely regards her sister and a pot of boiling water. "Here you go," she tells Lis, handing her the bottle. "Want me to dispose of Trenny?"

Treneere is one of those foods that loses nutritional value when cooked. Fie on Pyrene. "Oh." She strains her memory -- it shows on her face in those weird contortions of forehead -- and beams. "Your condition, right? Let's call it Fluffy." Obviously she has to think shorter, if she'll get her way.

Lis groans as another contraction grips her, this one a /lot/ more serious than her babies' previous play-efforts. "Ungh! Well, D'renn kind of liked Lianor for a girl... maybe we'll name the boy Fluffy." Black humor laces her voice as she attempts to placate Treneere.

"Aw, let her stay, Pyrene. It's good practice for the kid when she gets old enough to start thinking about boys and needing green stuff," adds Lis, tongue loosened by pain's distraction.

Pyrene grimaces. "Treneere, she is /not/ giving birth now. Otherwise I'd have her off my bed and in the infirmary, shardit. How long do these things normally last, Lis?" The greenrider is the expert in all things maternal after all... with the possible exception of childraising. Pyrene still prefers her method.

Treneere just bets it'll be a girl. Everyone's out to get her. "Okay," she says sulkily. "I think Fluffy'd be a better girl's name, though." She does, however, protest at Lis's next statement. "I," she declares huffily, "will never start thinking about boys. Evereverever. They're icky." Methinks the girl doth protest too much? "What'sherface came out quick," she points out to Pyrene. Nevermind that she only caught the tail end. "This one had better hurry, anyway. We're going to Ista tomorrow. Right, Lis?"

Lis would shrug her shoulders, but another contraction seizes her. "Mmf! I dunno?" she squeaks out, in regards to Pyrene, looking despicably un-parental-like to Trenny's eyes. "Ista. Right." Another contraction comes and passes, but there's a sudden rip-tear-release-splash. "Aw...." The greenrider bites down on the swear, minding her fosterlings' ears. "You didn't really like this blanket, did you, Pyrene?"

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that she HUMMMS! in joyous proclamation, jazzy trumpets sounding behind her crooner's voice. << The sprog drops! >> Well, that's what /Lis/ always calls it. Here Healer, Healer, Healer...

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Tiareth investigates: no egg, no hot Sand, no Weyrlings. >> Hrm... <<

Kariel walks in from the Cadgwith's Ledge.

Alymath senses Tiareth swirls closer, all lullabies and baby's breath. >> Your Rider is a queen. << Soon she'll have enough for a clutch of her own.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Miravith states simply, to the idea of Lis-spawn, <<Ew.>>

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Cadgwith is bemused. << But my weyr is not an infirmary. >> She doesn't lay her eggs there, Pyrene didn't give birth there. OK, so Kernow clutched there once, but that hardly gives Lis a right to.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Cadgwith adds on, amused; >> Fluffy. <<

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Tiareth sidles through the links, investigating. >> Fluffy? <<

Pyrene's shoulders twitch to hunch in on themselves, even as Kariel's entrance confirms it. "Lis, you sharding mother of a wherry's..." she rants on for a bit, utterly careless of her sister's ears. "You /can't/ give birth here... Get to the infirmary..." Granted, those stairs could be tricky with the contractions as frequent as they are...

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that she gloats with smug pride, feathers ruffling only briefly as she shoots down the idea. << We're not calling her fluffy. >> It's a her now, is it?

Treneere gets bored. Lis suffering isn't enough for her vicarious needs. She hangs on to that promise of Ista, and wanders toward Uglydragon. Gawk.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Niraneth thinks << Fluffy. >>

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Niraneth thinks << Wuffy. >>

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Dsalth sends a wave of sorrel warmth, a plume of amber lifting his voice <<Here comes more trouble>>.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Tiareth flickers sadness, for a moment. Fluffy. Nuffy. Nothing wrong with Fluffy.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Niraneth thinks << ..was a bear? >>

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Jakith grumps and grumbles. << Fluffy. Little Nuisance. You. What does it matter? >>

Kariel fumbles and stumbles his way in, generally, a bit mussed. Mmmph. He was a wee bit off duty. "I'm going. All of you. Out of my head." Hand rests on his forehead as eyes squinch a bit... no matter how many times it happens, voices in his head still... bother him. Bag is slung over his shoulder haphazardly and hair rests this way and that on his head... and shirt is buttoned one off the right hole. Lovely. "I'm here, Lis..." With a bit of protest, but here. "You have running water, right, Pyrene?"

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Miravith whispers conspiciously to Cadgwith, little girl's devious hissing. << Does it taste like porridge?>> Waves of curiousity. <<Hey Cadgey, if you grab it and bring it back to my weyr real quick, I'll be your best friiiiiend.>>
 
<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Cadgwith feels that if she is going to have to host the birth she has every right to pick a name. Even if she did steal it from eavesdropping.

"You can carry me, Pyrene," Lis offers sweetly, as Alymath butts into the opening of Cadgwith's weyr, Kariel having managed to get around her nosiness. Lookit what she dragged in. "Kariel!" she sings out, turning his name into a sweet Harper-tune of long-lost loves reunited. "Py boiled some - ungrf - water for me didn't you Py?" Pant.

Pyrene waves a hot water bottle and looks sulkily useful. "And there's more water where that came from, yeah, Kare." She doesn't have to /do/ anything does she? She's already sacrificed bedclothing for the cause.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that she guards the baby to be protectively, mentally slipping coils around the squat red form with a big open mouth. And wings. And tail.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Miravith sounds deceptively innocent, blades wrapped in pretty pink lace. <<Auri-rider says you should name it Cutiepie. Name it Cutiepie! Or Marshymallowz. Eehehe.>>

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Cadgwith also considers Miravith's suggestion gravely. << Alymath is blocking the door.. and it's rather crowded in here for me to manoeuvre. It would take some time for me to grab the baby. But I will ask if it tastes like porridge when it comes. >> She's always ready to do a favour for a clutchmate.

Kariel chuckles at the singsong, nodding to Pyrene as he meanders bedwards, coming to rest near the head and placing a small kiss on Lis forehead. Because he can. "Wonderful, Py. Oh.... and towels. Clean towels, please." Bedside is kneeled before and he smiles comfortingly at Lis, canting his head to the side... bangs falling into his eyes, as per norm. "How are you feeling, Lis?"

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Dsalth sends out his vague suggestion, scooting it under the louder voices of greens and golds. <<Call it...Buffy?>> rhymes with Fluffy afterall.

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Pilloeth sends out his own suggestion, muffled by a mental yawn. << Call it Malaflunuffy. >> Just because.

Lis settles back into her fluffy - and now squishy, ew - makeshift infirmary cot, continuing to pant between contractions. They're going to tell her to do it eventually, and it's something to do as she's already gasping. "Relieved," she exhales, "and in a - gasp - great amount of - wheeze - nrf. Pain."

"Can they be /old/ towels?" Pyrene pleads, opening her linen cupboard. "You're doing great, Lis!" she adds, belatedly remembering her role as chief moral support. And then apropos of nothing. "Cadge, tell Mira to shut up... no you don't need to tell me who said that, I know..."

<High Reaches Weyr> Alymath senses that Cadgwith is firm and impassive, the expanse of her thoughts flat calm. << Fluffy. >> And then the tentatively rippling addition: << Pyrene says Miravith needs to be quiet. >> Which wasn't /exactly/ what Pyrene said.

"Thanks for the - pant - use of the - pant - bed, though. Pyrene." Pant. Lis half-attempts to sit up, though, as she gets word of Miravith's perversions. "That beast! If Cadge's nose so much as sniffs in my direction..." Mostly it's just ominous waffling, since she collapses again into the pillows. "Oowaf."

Cadgwith quietly buries her nose between her forefeet, eyes rolling a contrite yellow above them.

Aww. That's too cute. Alymath siddles close to Cadgwith to offer consolation as she thrums, the green looking a little dwarfed next to the larger female.

"Mmm. How long since your water broke, sweetling?" Blonde locks are patted back as Kare removes utensils and places them on a silver tray from his bag... scalpel, a couple of glowtubes... redwort... "And a small bowl of water, Pyrene? Old towels... if they're very clean." Cleanliness is a virtue, ladies and gentlemen.

Lis tries to measure out what feels like forever into units of time more commonly used by people. "Oh... shells. A couple of minutes? Nowhere close to halfway through an hour..." Ten, give or take a few, though she's babbling between contractions. "Can't I push yet? I think I feel the head!" Hypochondriac.

Pyrene remembers a time when she, Kare and Lis were in a room before expecting the arrival of a new life. Bedclothes and all, she decides she prefers things this way around. "They're clean.. don't worry," she assures Kariel, carryiing over an armload of suitable towels. "Anything you want me to do?" She owes Lis a few after Sephne.

Kariel rolls his eyes as he takes redwort and begins dousing his hands with it... "A bowl of water?" Maybe? To wash his hands off. "Take deep breaths, Lis... once I get the redowrt off, I'll see how far you're dialated." Which could be fully or not. It depends. "Hey, Lis... third time around, it'll be the easiest yet." he reassures, winking up at her as he kneels by the bed's end.
Pyrene can supply a bowl of water readily enough, and she does so, playing infirmary assistant blithely. Lis' hand is grabbed for a brief squeeze. "And don't you dare call D'renn in!" she murmurs, winking.

Lis has no problem doing just that, sucking in greedy lungfuls of air and letting them out with some more control than before. She squeezes back at Pyrene's hand with a lopsided grin for the goldrider's support and comment, winking back at her before she resigns herself to being laboratory-animal once more. Nevermind that she's not wearing skivvies; it's just better not to ask.

"Who needs men around, anyways? Oh, wait." Having he, Kare, himself there might be a wee bit importantish. "Well. At least that's what more and more females are saying these days around here." Nose wrinkles a bit and he proceeds on to rinse his hands, then grabs a glowtube and sets to work, peering about the underworld. "Mmm. almost fully dialated, Lis... just relax, eh?"

Pyrene sighs. "Kariel, you would not say 'just relax' like that if you were ever likely to face the product of pushing a wherry-roast through your loins." Not above telling the midwife how to do his job, she has now made herself quite comfortable, scooting a chair over to the side of the bed and cheerfully murmuring encouragements to Lis.

Lis is relaxed - just look at her: sweaty, panting, belly-spasming and whimpering. Plenty relaxed. She giggles, however, at Pyrene's womanly influence, sparing her the brunt of her bone-crunching. "Push?" she asks hopefully, puppyishly simple and addle-witted.

Kariel mmms as he peers once more, brows knitting... "That impatient? Alright... we'll try a push and see if that'll fully dialate you... and no pulling any stunts like Pyrene, eh?" A faux menacing glance is cast to Pyrene with a chuckle, as he gently pats Lis' thighs. "You know the stint... push... think towards the cot..."

Pyrene sticks out her tongue maturely. "Sephne was the one pulling stunts. I was doing everything /you/ told me to do," she points out to Kariel airily. Her shoulders twitch into a wince at the mention of pushing and she pats Lis hand in automatic sympathy.

Lis pushes with a vengeance, unappreciative of that pat on her thigh. That's violation of the crotchal area. Yo. Face screwed up with her intent, she grunts, shoves with all her uterine might, and slumps with a whimper: "Mmmf."

Kariel makes note not to pat Lis on the thigh. It wasn't sexual - it was more upper thigh, and heck.. yes, this is an appealing position. She's shoving something the size of a watermelon out of her. Let's get it on. Cough. "Good, good Lis... you're fully dialated now... and the head seems to be crowned..." Which means it's still in there. But now she's ready to go places! Um.

Pyrene has a nasty thought and narrows her eyes at Kariel. "Is she going to have to stay here afterwards? Is the /sprog/ going to have to stay here afterwards? This is my own personal sleeping space, you know. Not a nursery." She's always been very firm on that score.

"Goody." Lis growls in a menacing contralto, rumbling to herself between breaths. She can't help but push down with every contraction, helping this baby ease out of her greased birth canal. Hopefully. "Don't worry, Pyrene. I'll move out as soon as I can," she reassues the goldrider with surprising social courtesy.

Kariel eyes Pyrene rather disdainfully, lips twisting as he comments, "I'd prefer her and the... 'sprog'... to stay here until I'm sure the baby won't take chill... and Lis is able to move decently..." In other words... deal. "Next contraction, give me a hard push... focus on my nose..." Or something else... a nose just seemed convenient.

Pyrene glares at Kariel (actually, at his nose), huffy that he thinks she's being unfair. "I was only asking," she mutters. "C'mon Lis... you'll be fine. Big strong baby and you can be back in your own weyr in no time." And out of Pyrene's.

Lis peers down her own nose at Kariel, going a bit cross-eyed with the effort. Taking a deep breath, she grunts and pushes and /shoves/ the so-called roast. "It'd /better/ be big and strong, after the extra /sevendays/ it spent in my /womb/," she vows.

Kariel snickers at that... watching the crown push forth and then nodding. "Good, good. Push with the contractions... think outwards and down." He's ever so helpful. Right? Right.

Pyrene hehs nervously. She doesn't really like this part. "You sure you can see a head this time, Kariel?" she asks. "It's not a buttock or anything...?" Always pays to doublecheck. "That's it, Lis. You can give the sprog a hard time once it's out."

Lis is struck with a sudden comparison between butts and heads, but she files it away for another time when she's not throbbing from the waist down. Muscles spasm again, and she heaves downwards and outwards as best she can. "You're damn straight I will," she agrees; poor kid - not their fault.

Kariel rolls his eyes... "Unless it has unbearably fuzzy buttcheek, it's a head." he replies, urging Lis pushes along and tapping his nose occasionally. "Good, good... see, moving fast this time... always easier the more you do it, right? Push... a few more..."

Well, /Lis'/ butt isn't fuzzy, which would leave only one culprit (this time, anyhow)... "It'd better be. I'm stretched out bigger than the Vinter gather tent," she manages around gasps, pushes, and contractions; lovely mental image, to be sure.

Pyrene squeezes Lis' hand again. "There you go... keep at it and I'll even let you use the bed for a nap afterwards, how about it?" she soothes the greenrider.

Even lovelier to actually have the panoramic view, assuredly. Kariel nods as he watches the head crest, hands positioning as he nods... "Three more or so and we're out, Lis... think outwards..." Cause that head ain't going nowhere willingly.

"It's always the last one," Lis laments, despite the odd sensation of her pelvic bones being stretched and warped to their limits; Alymath's a nice distraction, helping bleed off some of the pain. One push... twice... thrice...

Pyrene yawns, covering it ineffectually. She personally wouldn't mind using her bed herself. She'd squat in Lis' weyr if it weren't for D'renn. "C'mon," she murmurs, her tone turning the words into 'hurry up!'

Head and shoulders... knees and toes. Three pushes later, the newest of Lis' hoarde enters the world... Kare quickly delving his finger into her mouth and clearing the goop... eloquently. "It's a girl, Lis, doll..." he announces proudly, grinning at the little bundle in his arms and grabbing for a towel to douse in water. Messy, gooey baby. But aww... so kyoot.

"Hey... Cadge was right," Pyrene exclaims, glancing towards her dragon suspiciously. Cadgwith just hums brightly and makes absolutely /no/ move to find out if the baby tastes like porridge.

Being spawn of Lis, naturally, the baby - "Lianor, then; D'renn liked that name." - makes use of the mouth she was given and lets out a yell that would shame a banshee. "Oh. She was," observes the greenrider a bit dazedly, slumping back into the pillows with a sigh. It's gone. Birthed. Popped like a pimple.

Kariel nods as he cleans her eyes and face, then cuts the cord ceremoniously, tying bioth ends and swaddling the baby in another towel. "Mmm... shh, Lianor..." he comforts as he holds her close, rising to his feet and walking towards Lis... "Care to hold her, there, Lis?" Just perhaps.

Pyrene immediately straightens up at the sound of that wail. "Right, well... congratulations Lis, and I'll just get out of your way. Clean up, relax, whatever... I'll go do stuff. Record the birth. Later..." And she's gone. Vamoose.

Poor Pyrene - she's stuck with Lis crashing in her weyr for the next few days. "Aww. She's such a cute thing..." Lianor is barely quieted for a moment, unlidding slits of eyes to peer up into her mother's face before she bellows at that, too. "Loud thing," the greenrider adds to her description. "Thank you, Pyrene. Get some sleep... you'll need it." This is called after the goldrider, save that last bit which is muttered to herself.

Kariel nods in agreement, hefting the bag over his shoulder and heading doorwards. "Sleep, Lis. And if she gets colicy, get me and I'll watch her while you sleep." Aww. Yay. "Get some rest." And with that... he' gone.

Kariel walks to the ledge.