c-columna

[inertblue]

THE PROMISED SAD BOI

[abloginnameonly]

something i had lying around for my half-orc bard, braze

The girls take a step back as the baby is passed to Gynida - the unlucky few who were holding her hand through the labor flex their own tenderly - but not for long. They all press back in to coo and congratulate as soon as she’s suckling quietly. 

“Oh, she’s got those lovely eyes of yours,” Havana, a willowy young tiefling whispers when she sees them blink open briefly. “She’s going to be a charmer one day, count on it.”

“Did you hear her wailin’ when she made her entrance? Fierce. She’s got quite a spark in ‘er to come out swingin’ like that.” Verna, a halfling, nods firmly. 

“And she comes from good stock, course she does,” a firbolg woman named Feather says. “Just look at her; sturdy little thing. World’s a tough place, but there’s a girl who won’t have no trouble bein’ tough back.” Then her expression softens, and she puts a hand on Gynida’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

Gynida nods but doesn’t look up from her daughter. She’ll have to take their word for it - Havana’s done this before, must know the reassuring lies you tell yourself - but they’re hard to hear with this delicate creature lying on her breast. The one she’s been guarding and growing ever since that first tender kick. The one with the fluttering little heartbeat. 

Madame isn’t here for this. Doesn’t have to be. Gynida was already told she has until the babe was weaned to find out what to do with her. So little time, but also the most she’ll ever have. Maybe if she were a little younger or a bit more naive, she’d dream of running away, making a life somewhere else doing what folks call “honest work.” But she’s not, so she doesn’t. 

*

Ubek’s rare to come by more than once or twice a year, but there have also been times where he’s gone as long as three. And with the babe soon to be reaching for soft foods and the Madame getting impatient with her yowling, Gynida could almost cry with relief when one of the little urchins that runs in town spots him. 

He shows up scowling - he hates when she sends his name around looking for him - but he does show up. Then his scowl shifts to a frown. He tilts his head trying to place the sound of soft babbling. She takes his hand and sets it against the baby. From Gynida's arms, she looks disinterested and chews on her own hand instead, thoroughly used to people coming and going.

“My daughter,” Gynida introduces quietly. Every day that she says those words, they feel less true, like they're grains of sand through an hourglass. Or a sieve... “Braze.”

If Ubek looks surprised, it’s soon gone. 

“Right." He nods brusquely. “And what’s to be done with Braze?”

“No one here will take her.”

“Not my usual cargo, Gynida.”

“Not the worst trouble you’ve been put through, either.”

“It’s not me you should be worried about.”

Gynida bites her lip. Ubek doesn’t place the term “friend” lightly, and she knows that being counted among them meant more than he would ever admit aloud. And whatever frustrations and inconveniences they caused each other, it was weighed against years and years of slender, necessary threads of trust between people who have both long since given up on expecting anything from the world. The same world that she was turning her child over to; she could let her daughter do that alone. She tightens her hand around his, pressing it to Braze’s side. 

“Please.” 

He stares expressionlessly, but she waits for his answer. Braze coos quietly to herself. Then he sighs. 

“Where.”

Gynida breaks into a smile that he can’t see, but can surely hear seeping into her voice. 

“Just...find her a good family. That’s all, that would be everything,” she insists. “If I never ask anything from you again-”

“Don’t make promises like that, Gynida,” he cuts her off and she sighs gently. 

Thanks are wasted on him, but she can’t help leaning forward impulsively to kiss his cheek. He lets out a quiet, warm huff of air against her neck, mostly a grumble, and when she pulls back he’s got a wry expression, feeling Braze’s small hands grabbing at him. 

“People are gonna call me a soft touch,” Ubek tells her. “You owe me one.” 

He leaves early the next day, not willing to stay in town any longer than he has to, so in the cool half-light of morning, Gynida passes him a few blankets and rags, as well as what coins she's been able to save, scrounge, and borrow. It feels like nothing against the world that she’s sending Braze out into. 

She’s asleep now, doesn’t even open her eyes when she’s passed to Ubek. Gynida tells herself that’s better. That it makes it easier when Ubek settles the girl into his arms and leaves without another word, letting Gynida’s ephemeral plea, her prayer take them both away. 

Find my daughter a home.