vikingpetrva.
receiving a child had been the last thing to have been expected after all of these centuries, knowing what had been taken; lost. but here tatia had been, standing in a room with a child that had shared her own personal dna once more along with an unexpected other persons. truthfully, it had not mattered where the child had come from or who she had it with, just sharing this precious moment and reliving a fond experience was enough to bring back joy. tiny, soft kisses were placed on catty’s forehead as he slept in the crib. fingers wrapped around the top admiring the beauty before her as soft sounds escaped from the child’s lips as it slept. “isn’t this amazing?” she asked, able to hear footsteps approaching. far too caught up in the moment to care whom it could be.
ringer’s still trying to get used to her predicament. this wasn’t her world, obviously -- it looked like how it was before the others came. it looked n o r m a l. and, babies -- was this another baby boomer generation? because there were WAY too many in this place. she walks in, not noticing it’s not even her apartment ( she’s confused and knows nothing, cut her some slack ) when she hears the woman speaking, the sight of the child making her nod her head, face softening, but still no smile. ‘ i -- yeah. amazing. what’s her name? ’