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Stars cannot shine without Darkness Birth/Open
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Whimsy felt like a house, or maybe a beached whale. It was a good thing she had never taken to wearing shoes, since now she doubted she could tie the damn things. And she was a bit cranky. The heat, the weight, the awkward maneuvering. She let out a long sigh, trying to release the tension, without much success. She had long since finished the baby blanket, a simple quilt with the given name stitched in the corner, with space beneath to add the date later. It was in bright reds, and dark salmons, fading into purples and twilight blues, depicting a gentle stream through a night time woodland with peaceful animals. A hummingbird graces one corner, a signature of her work. For now, she was on a break from school, much to her professor's expressed dismay.

As she got up to refill her tea, a beverage she had come to love, hot or cold, since being pregnant she felt a sickening squeezing sensation close in around her. She gasped, wondering if the world had suddenly imploded when she was released, and realized this must be contractions. She gripped the arm of the chair still, fearing to let go if another should grab her and cause her to fall. She had been expecting the babe any day, but had been unconcerned, thinking it would be much like birds laying, but now she was a bit scared. It felt completely different, as if her insides might remove themselves along with her child.

She opened her mouth to call for the midwife, an elderly fairy from the village who had agreed to stay for the time, but at first all that emerged was a squeak. She cleared her throat, feeling silly. The feeling was quite gone for the moment and had been for several minutes. "Um, midwife? I think it's time?" The older woman tottered downstairs, eyebrows raised. Apparently most people knew when it was time, or at least how to express what was happening. Whimsy grimaced at her lack of preparedness. Another contraction hit, taking all thoughts and regrets from her brain for the moment.

Atty, the midwife, suddenly moved surely to her side, helpling her to a chair to wait for the passing of the contraction. It was her cool hands checking her pulse rate, and palpating her abdomen that Whimsy chose to focus on instead of the sudden stab of fear at the swelling pain she felt. As it subsided, Atty guided her to the agreed upon bed. After weeks of planning she would finally meet her child today! The thought struck her strangely. No waiting for an egg to hatch, instead a living being would emerge. It was probably best not to overthink things, she decided.

The contractions came and went faster and stronger now, and she had little energy to pay attention to her surroundings. She knew Atty was around her constantly, checking with concerned motions and glances. She vaguely remembers that her size is not conducive to an easy birth, though it also depended on the size of the child she grasped. The midwife was calling excitedly, telling her it was almost over, telling her a few more pushes, but she was so tired. Her body gives her no choice, bringing the contractions down again, forcing her through instinct to push. She feels ripping, and pain, but the pressure is suddenly relieved, and Atty is smiling. Whimsy moves her eyes to follow the woman, carrying a small creature wrapped in a towel towards her.

She smiles as it is laid on her chest. "Darby" is all she manages to mutter before drowsing a bit, with the pink newborn still cradled to her.


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