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randomplaces2011-02-22 09:18 pm
random_xtras) wrote in randomplaces2011-02-22 09:18 pm
Entry tags:
Breaker 'verse 1
Alvin R. Kibbey stepped in a gopher hole and swallowed his gum.
Coughing madly, he tried to regain his balance, curse words in eleven languages flashing through his mind. Good thing I'm alone. No gum, no audience, no... His thoughts trailed off as a sound caught his attention.
Frowning, he glanced around, wondering if he'd been wrong about the audience. After all the crazy things he'd seen during his days in the military he wouldn't be surprised by much.
The sound came again and his frown deepened. A baby? No way. Gotta be a cat.
Figuring it more likely to be a baby cougar rather than a tabby, he reached for his 9mm. No need to be surprised out here... by myself. With no gum.
There was a rustle behind him and he whirled and went into a crouch, then gaped as he realized that his gun was aimed directly between the wide, baby blue eyes of... a little gargoyle?
"Sweet jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" He drew back a step, letting the weapon point to the ground. "How'd you get here, sweetheart?" His Tennessee drawl was soft and deep as he registered the fright in the... child's?... eyes.
Long, pointed ears flicked toward him from under a mass of snowy hair, then went back as the little creature backed slowly away from him, every line of its body promising a fight if he tried to get near.
Well, I'll be... He holstered his firearm and knelt on the rocky ground. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, marshaling his features to exude calm and strength. Just like Lizzy, here, Al... "It's okay, sweetheart. No one is gonna hurt ya." He stayed perfectly still, hands outstretched in the universal symbol of an offer of comfort, willing his arms to last as long as it took.
"Menschlich!" spat the little gargoyle, backing away further. "Sie neem uns nicht!"
Caramel colored eyes narrowed at the words, processing them rapidly. Sounds like German... maybe Dutch. Root words are similar. And that's definitely a little girl voice. What does she mean, 'you won't take us'?
Wondering, he fashioned a reply using a mix of the two languages, hoping to strike a chord with the frightened child. Holding his hands palm outward and back, he told her, "Kein gekwetst, Schatz, nur Hilfe."
"Menschlich!" she insisted, big tears starting to drip down her thin cheeks as her voice shook. "Des Menschen helfen geen Woestijn Feen." (Humans don't help Desert Fairies.)
Filing away the term 'Woestijn Feen' for later, he thought again of his niece Lizzy and hoped someone would help her if she were in a situation like this. Whispering softly, he tried to convey what was in his heart at the moment. "Schatz, Ich sehe ein Kind, das meine Hilfe benötigt. Das ist, was ich. Hilfe Leute." He held his arms back out to her. (Sweetheart, I see a child who needs my help. That's what I do. Help people.)
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, the tears still leaving steaming trails down her face. "Nr."
Then she started as something moved under her tightly-wrapped wings. Once more Alvin heard the sound of an upset, hungry baby.
"Stille, Baby. Weißetaube der Auntie holt Sie der Moeder bald," she murmured, her ears pointing down toward the little voice as she kept her eyes on Alvin. (Hush, baby. Auntie Whitedove will take you back to Mother soon.)
Alvin desperately wished he had more gum. This little girl was something to behold, gleaming white and willing to stand her ground. But he needed to get through to her, to make her see past her fear and let him get her and her bundle to safety. Still thinking in German, he mumbled a quiet prayer. "Vater, Ich könnte etwas Hilfe hier verwenden." (Father, I could use some help here.)
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than an ear splitting yowl came from above them. Years of reacting solely on instinct had his gun out and firing a death shot even as he rolled the child and her cargo to safety. The large cat fell next to them, the air leaving its lungs with a whoosh.
Alvin breathed heavily, knowing the predicament they were in as he held his left arm protectively around the little pair and searched the surrounding area for more danger.
Then he looked down as the little girl's body began to shake in weary, terrified sobs.
"Moeder...Vader..." she moaned softly, lowering her face so that it was hidden in her wings and hair. "Jesus, helfen Sie mir, bitte. Ich ben angst." (Jesus, help me please. I'm afraid.)
Pulling her close, he noticed how warm she was. Maybe a fever? He shook his head at the wonder of it all and tried to think, then winced as a burning sensation on his hand drew his attention. He watched as her tears rolled and fell on his skin, leaving red welts.
She's a child, he told himself, moving his hand out of the way. A strange, frightened child who speaks strange German. A thought occurred and he began to sing softly, rocking the pair back and forth as he kept one eye peeled for anymore threats. Maybe, just maybe...
"Stille Nacht, Heil'ge Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.
Holder Knab' im lockigten Haar,
Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh."
The sobs quieted, and he looked down to see those wide, strange eyes the colour of a peaceful summer sky looking up at him wonderingly.
"Sie helfen?" she asked hesitantly, her voice nearly too soft for him to hear. "Om ons nicht Drow te geven?" (You help? You won't give us to the Drow?)
Brown hair shook gently as he replied carefully. "Nr. Geen Drow, Schatz. Ich helfe. Safe I. Sie komt mit mir?" (No. No Drow, Sweetheart. I help. I'm safe. You come with me?)
Her ears swept back, though her face remained impassive. "Hilfe Stern ook? Er hungrig." (Help Star too? He's hungry.)
"Hungrig? Ja." He grinned as the hidden baby began to wail. "Definitely hungry." Getting to his feet, he picked her up and quickly trotted back to his gear bag. Setting her down with soft words of comfort, he grabbed a bottle of water, then took off the cap and poured some of the liquid into it. "Water?" He offered it.
She looked at it wonderingly, then flicked her ears toward him and cocked her head, clearly unsure of something.
Alvin frowned slightly, then cleared his throat and absently took a sip out of the bottle.
"Ahh." Weißtaube moved one wing slightly and reached a hand out for the cap, her ears twitching slightly. "Danke."
"Bitte." He smiled as he studied the slender, twiglike fingers of that hand and the heavy white claws that ended them.
She drank clumsily, glancing at him apologetically as water spilled down her front, then swept aside both wings and used the mane of hair that ran down the back of her arm to wipe it off the tiny black infant that she held in her other arm. The baby squirmed and twisted its little face up into a grimace, then started to wail again, the cries quivering fearfully.
"Hij heeft nahrung nodig." Weißtaube looked up at him anxiously. (He needs food.)
"Ja," he said softly, frowning as he tried to think if he had any milk at home. "Wir erhalten ihm Nahrung."
She cocked her head again. "Wij krijgen ihm nahrung?"
"Ja." He grinned sheepishly. "Wij krijgen ihm nahrung. We'll get him something to eat."
"Eat nahrung?" she said slowly, those big eyes looking up at him as she wrapped her wings tightly around herself again, muffling the baby's cries.
"Ja." Alvin smiled encouragingly, then pulled his radio off his belt and called in sick.
This too was watched with wide-eyed wonder as Weißtaube absently sang a little song under her breath and jigged in effort to calm the baby.
"Okay. Gekommen zu meinem Haus? Krijg nahrung." Alvin put the radio back and hunkered down to be at her eye level, then suppressed a grin as she also went into a crouch. (You come to my house? Get food.)
"Begrijp sie nicht," she said apologetically. (I don't understand.)
"Okay." He reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich. "Food. Nahrung."
She watched him, her ears flicking back and forth. "Eat nahrung."
"Yeah." He peeled off the plastic wrap and took a bite, then offered her the sandwich.
"Eat." She took it with the claws on one wing and examined it curiously, then took a bite and nearly gagged.
Alvin blinked and took it back to sniff it, but couldn't smell any problem. "Let's try somethin' else."
"Schrecklich." She wiped an eye and shuddered.
"Nahrung?" He held up an apple.
She stared at it blankly.
He frowned and looked in the little cooler, then stuffed everything back into it and put it into the gear bag. "Kom met me. Gekommen mit mir." (Come with me.)
She looked back toward the dead cat, then looked the way he'd stepped and put her ears back.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He stopped and looked at her.
"Meine augen sind gebroken," she said hesitantly, pointing to her eyes. "Sternschreie, wenn ich unten val." (My eyes are broken. Star cries when I fall.)
Alvin blinked and came back to look into those blank blue eyes, then moved his hand in front of them and frowned as she only noticed when his palm was about a foot from her face. I should have realized with the white hair and the blue eyes. She 'n the little one could've been hurt bad out here.
"Was?" She perked her ears and looked up at him.
"Kom. Gekommen." He stooped and gently picked her up again, nearly losing his grip as she moved her wings out of the way, then blinking as she wrapped them around him and leaned her head on his shoulder wearily.
He frowned and touched her forehead, but then put his hand on the baby and found that it was the same temperature. Okay, maybe that's normal? Father, I really could use a hand here. 'N not another cougar, please.
The trek back to his old green hummer brought back memories of drilling with his unit in the Arizona desert. Weißtaube seemed to be asleep, though her grip on the baby didn't loosen.
Nor did the little one's demanding wails, which had reached a new level of angst when Alvin finally reached the hummer and tried to set Weißtaube on the hood, lessen.
"Was?" Weißtaube woke with a frightened cry and clung. "Vader? Ach, nein." She let go of him and drooped, rubbing the baby's back and murmuring softly as tears once more started a steady flow down her cheeks.
"Hey, sweetheart." He stroked her hair, careful to keep his hands away from the steaming drops. "Weinen Sie nicht. Huil niet. Es ist gut." (Don't cry, it'll be okay.)
She looked up at him, then bit her lip and held out the baby.
He took it, carefully supporting its head as its little arms and legs splayed out. The frantic cries paused as two big black eyes looked up at him, and Alvin realized that he was holding a little boy that couldn't be more than a week old, a perfect replica of Weißtaube but for colour and lack of wings.
"Hey, buddy," he said softly, then winced as the tiny mouth opened once more in that despairing wail.
Tucking the little one close to his chest, he opened the door and dumped his bag over the back of the seat, then moved Weißtaube to the passenger seat and belted her in. "We're going to get you some milk now, buddy. You just need to wait a little bit longer. I know your belly hurts...."
He kept up the low, soothing patter as he went around to the drivers door and opened it, then took out the light denim shirt he'd brought to use for a jacket and quickly rigged a baby sling out of it. Father, he's shakin' like he's cold...I don't have anythin' else to wrap him in...
He looked down at the baby, then swiftly rearranged everything so that it was under his T-shirt, next to his skin. "Okay, buddy, now just hold on till I get back to the road 'n find a store and a motel."
* * *
Alvin took the glass juice bottle out of the saucepan and carefully attached the makeshift nipple, then tested it on the front of his wrist the way his older sister had taught him. "Okay. Here, buddy, try this."
The baby latched on and sucked eagerly, but then spat out the formula and gave a wail of outrage, little fists, feet, tail, and chin quivering.
"No way. Dove liked it." He glanced toward where the girl was curled on the floor by the bed.
She sat up and perked her ears. "Dove? Ich bin hier."
Alvin walked over and knelt next to her, showing her the bottle and the baby. "Hij zal niet eten. Er ißt nicht." (He won't eat.)
Weißtaube's ears went back in what he suspected was her version of a frown as she took the bottle and looked at it. Then she removed the top and took a taste of the contents.
"Ach!" she gasped. "Zu kalt voor baby."
"Too cold?" Alvin frowned. "If I make it any hotter I'll burn his mouth."
Weißtaube passed the bottle to one winghand, then held her right hand over her left and flexed her fingers. As Alvin watched in dumbfounded amazement a small flow of liquid flame came from her wrist and pooled in her palm.
"Gut," she said, looking pleased, then took the bottle and set it in the fire for several minutes. Tasting it again, she nodded and put the nipple back on, then peered at the baby.
"Wait!" Alvin tried to pull her hand away as she aimed the bottle at the tiny mouth, but found it to be like trying to bend rebar.
The baby latched on once more and drank greedily, making little sounds of contentment and relief.
"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat." Alvin stared, then grabbed his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. "Lassen Sie mich es tun. Laat me het doen." (Let me do it.)
Weißtaube obediently gave him the bottle, then hunkered down on the rug again and stared blankly at the window.
Holding the baby close, he watched as the dark roan colored tyke contentedly drank down the superheated milk. This... this is beyond me. He stroked the small cheeks, puffed with greed. But he's just a baby. And I need to know more so I can at least find out where they're from and help them... get home or something.
He sat in the lone chair in the room, letting the wee one eat to his heart's content. Caramel brown eyes came to rest on the still white form of Sweetheart... Dove... as she said her name was. The little girl was starting to list to one side. I'll bet she's tired. I would be. Strange place... strange person... A contented sigh from his little bundle let him know that Star?? was asleep.
He stood carefully and made his way to the bed, setting the baby in the middle of the mattress before bending down to pick up the dozing Dove. As had happened before, the white wings went around him of their own accord, putting him in somewhat of a straight jacket.
Alvin inched an arm free and levered himself and his bundle onto the covers. Pulling Star into the crook of his free arm, he found a place to rest his head and let his eyes close. Father... any ideas on this?
Sleep overtook him at that point and he dozed off feeling warm and comfortable.
next
Coughing madly, he tried to regain his balance, curse words in eleven languages flashing through his mind. Good thing I'm alone. No gum, no audience, no... His thoughts trailed off as a sound caught his attention.
Frowning, he glanced around, wondering if he'd been wrong about the audience. After all the crazy things he'd seen during his days in the military he wouldn't be surprised by much.
The sound came again and his frown deepened. A baby? No way. Gotta be a cat.
Figuring it more likely to be a baby cougar rather than a tabby, he reached for his 9mm. No need to be surprised out here... by myself. With no gum.
There was a rustle behind him and he whirled and went into a crouch, then gaped as he realized that his gun was aimed directly between the wide, baby blue eyes of... a little gargoyle?
"Sweet jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" He drew back a step, letting the weapon point to the ground. "How'd you get here, sweetheart?" His Tennessee drawl was soft and deep as he registered the fright in the... child's?... eyes.
Long, pointed ears flicked toward him from under a mass of snowy hair, then went back as the little creature backed slowly away from him, every line of its body promising a fight if he tried to get near.
Well, I'll be... He holstered his firearm and knelt on the rocky ground. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, marshaling his features to exude calm and strength. Just like Lizzy, here, Al... "It's okay, sweetheart. No one is gonna hurt ya." He stayed perfectly still, hands outstretched in the universal symbol of an offer of comfort, willing his arms to last as long as it took.
"Menschlich!" spat the little gargoyle, backing away further. "Sie neem uns nicht!"
Caramel colored eyes narrowed at the words, processing them rapidly. Sounds like German... maybe Dutch. Root words are similar. And that's definitely a little girl voice. What does she mean, 'you won't take us'?
Wondering, he fashioned a reply using a mix of the two languages, hoping to strike a chord with the frightened child. Holding his hands palm outward and back, he told her, "Kein gekwetst, Schatz, nur Hilfe."
"Menschlich!" she insisted, big tears starting to drip down her thin cheeks as her voice shook. "Des Menschen helfen geen Woestijn Feen." (Humans don't help Desert Fairies.)
Filing away the term 'Woestijn Feen' for later, he thought again of his niece Lizzy and hoped someone would help her if she were in a situation like this. Whispering softly, he tried to convey what was in his heart at the moment. "Schatz, Ich sehe ein Kind, das meine Hilfe benötigt. Das ist, was ich. Hilfe Leute." He held his arms back out to her. (Sweetheart, I see a child who needs my help. That's what I do. Help people.)
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, the tears still leaving steaming trails down her face. "Nr."
Then she started as something moved under her tightly-wrapped wings. Once more Alvin heard the sound of an upset, hungry baby.
"Stille, Baby. Weißetaube der Auntie holt Sie der Moeder bald," she murmured, her ears pointing down toward the little voice as she kept her eyes on Alvin. (Hush, baby. Auntie Whitedove will take you back to Mother soon.)
Alvin desperately wished he had more gum. This little girl was something to behold, gleaming white and willing to stand her ground. But he needed to get through to her, to make her see past her fear and let him get her and her bundle to safety. Still thinking in German, he mumbled a quiet prayer. "Vater, Ich könnte etwas Hilfe hier verwenden." (Father, I could use some help here.)
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than an ear splitting yowl came from above them. Years of reacting solely on instinct had his gun out and firing a death shot even as he rolled the child and her cargo to safety. The large cat fell next to them, the air leaving its lungs with a whoosh.
Alvin breathed heavily, knowing the predicament they were in as he held his left arm protectively around the little pair and searched the surrounding area for more danger.
Then he looked down as the little girl's body began to shake in weary, terrified sobs.
"Moeder...Vader..." she moaned softly, lowering her face so that it was hidden in her wings and hair. "Jesus, helfen Sie mir, bitte. Ich ben angst." (Jesus, help me please. I'm afraid.)
Pulling her close, he noticed how warm she was. Maybe a fever? He shook his head at the wonder of it all and tried to think, then winced as a burning sensation on his hand drew his attention. He watched as her tears rolled and fell on his skin, leaving red welts.
She's a child, he told himself, moving his hand out of the way. A strange, frightened child who speaks strange German. A thought occurred and he began to sing softly, rocking the pair back and forth as he kept one eye peeled for anymore threats. Maybe, just maybe...
"Stille Nacht, Heil'ge Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.
Holder Knab' im lockigten Haar,
Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh."
The sobs quieted, and he looked down to see those wide, strange eyes the colour of a peaceful summer sky looking up at him wonderingly.
"Sie helfen?" she asked hesitantly, her voice nearly too soft for him to hear. "Om ons nicht Drow te geven?" (You help? You won't give us to the Drow?)
Brown hair shook gently as he replied carefully. "Nr. Geen Drow, Schatz. Ich helfe. Safe I. Sie komt mit mir?" (No. No Drow, Sweetheart. I help. I'm safe. You come with me?)
Her ears swept back, though her face remained impassive. "Hilfe Stern ook? Er hungrig." (Help Star too? He's hungry.)
"Hungrig? Ja." He grinned as the hidden baby began to wail. "Definitely hungry." Getting to his feet, he picked her up and quickly trotted back to his gear bag. Setting her down with soft words of comfort, he grabbed a bottle of water, then took off the cap and poured some of the liquid into it. "Water?" He offered it.
She looked at it wonderingly, then flicked her ears toward him and cocked her head, clearly unsure of something.
Alvin frowned slightly, then cleared his throat and absently took a sip out of the bottle.
"Ahh." Weißtaube moved one wing slightly and reached a hand out for the cap, her ears twitching slightly. "Danke."
"Bitte." He smiled as he studied the slender, twiglike fingers of that hand and the heavy white claws that ended them.
She drank clumsily, glancing at him apologetically as water spilled down her front, then swept aside both wings and used the mane of hair that ran down the back of her arm to wipe it off the tiny black infant that she held in her other arm. The baby squirmed and twisted its little face up into a grimace, then started to wail again, the cries quivering fearfully.
"Hij heeft nahrung nodig." Weißtaube looked up at him anxiously. (He needs food.)
"Ja," he said softly, frowning as he tried to think if he had any milk at home. "Wir erhalten ihm Nahrung."
She cocked her head again. "Wij krijgen ihm nahrung?"
"Ja." He grinned sheepishly. "Wij krijgen ihm nahrung. We'll get him something to eat."
"Eat nahrung?" she said slowly, those big eyes looking up at him as she wrapped her wings tightly around herself again, muffling the baby's cries.
"Ja." Alvin smiled encouragingly, then pulled his radio off his belt and called in sick.
This too was watched with wide-eyed wonder as Weißtaube absently sang a little song under her breath and jigged in effort to calm the baby.
"Okay. Gekommen zu meinem Haus? Krijg nahrung." Alvin put the radio back and hunkered down to be at her eye level, then suppressed a grin as she also went into a crouch. (You come to my house? Get food.)
"Begrijp sie nicht," she said apologetically. (I don't understand.)
"Okay." He reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich. "Food. Nahrung."
She watched him, her ears flicking back and forth. "Eat nahrung."
"Yeah." He peeled off the plastic wrap and took a bite, then offered her the sandwich.
"Eat." She took it with the claws on one wing and examined it curiously, then took a bite and nearly gagged.
Alvin blinked and took it back to sniff it, but couldn't smell any problem. "Let's try somethin' else."
"Schrecklich." She wiped an eye and shuddered.
"Nahrung?" He held up an apple.
She stared at it blankly.
He frowned and looked in the little cooler, then stuffed everything back into it and put it into the gear bag. "Kom met me. Gekommen mit mir." (Come with me.)
She looked back toward the dead cat, then looked the way he'd stepped and put her ears back.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He stopped and looked at her.
"Meine augen sind gebroken," she said hesitantly, pointing to her eyes. "Sternschreie, wenn ich unten val." (My eyes are broken. Star cries when I fall.)
Alvin blinked and came back to look into those blank blue eyes, then moved his hand in front of them and frowned as she only noticed when his palm was about a foot from her face. I should have realized with the white hair and the blue eyes. She 'n the little one could've been hurt bad out here.
"Was?" She perked her ears and looked up at him.
"Kom. Gekommen." He stooped and gently picked her up again, nearly losing his grip as she moved her wings out of the way, then blinking as she wrapped them around him and leaned her head on his shoulder wearily.
He frowned and touched her forehead, but then put his hand on the baby and found that it was the same temperature. Okay, maybe that's normal? Father, I really could use a hand here. 'N not another cougar, please.
The trek back to his old green hummer brought back memories of drilling with his unit in the Arizona desert. Weißtaube seemed to be asleep, though her grip on the baby didn't loosen.
Nor did the little one's demanding wails, which had reached a new level of angst when Alvin finally reached the hummer and tried to set Weißtaube on the hood, lessen.
"Was?" Weißtaube woke with a frightened cry and clung. "Vader? Ach, nein." She let go of him and drooped, rubbing the baby's back and murmuring softly as tears once more started a steady flow down her cheeks.
"Hey, sweetheart." He stroked her hair, careful to keep his hands away from the steaming drops. "Weinen Sie nicht. Huil niet. Es ist gut." (Don't cry, it'll be okay.)
She looked up at him, then bit her lip and held out the baby.
He took it, carefully supporting its head as its little arms and legs splayed out. The frantic cries paused as two big black eyes looked up at him, and Alvin realized that he was holding a little boy that couldn't be more than a week old, a perfect replica of Weißtaube but for colour and lack of wings.
"Hey, buddy," he said softly, then winced as the tiny mouth opened once more in that despairing wail.
Tucking the little one close to his chest, he opened the door and dumped his bag over the back of the seat, then moved Weißtaube to the passenger seat and belted her in. "We're going to get you some milk now, buddy. You just need to wait a little bit longer. I know your belly hurts...."
He kept up the low, soothing patter as he went around to the drivers door and opened it, then took out the light denim shirt he'd brought to use for a jacket and quickly rigged a baby sling out of it. Father, he's shakin' like he's cold...I don't have anythin' else to wrap him in...
He looked down at the baby, then swiftly rearranged everything so that it was under his T-shirt, next to his skin. "Okay, buddy, now just hold on till I get back to the road 'n find a store and a motel."
Alvin took the glass juice bottle out of the saucepan and carefully attached the makeshift nipple, then tested it on the front of his wrist the way his older sister had taught him. "Okay. Here, buddy, try this."
The baby latched on and sucked eagerly, but then spat out the formula and gave a wail of outrage, little fists, feet, tail, and chin quivering.
"No way. Dove liked it." He glanced toward where the girl was curled on the floor by the bed.
She sat up and perked her ears. "Dove? Ich bin hier."
Alvin walked over and knelt next to her, showing her the bottle and the baby. "Hij zal niet eten. Er ißt nicht." (He won't eat.)
Weißtaube's ears went back in what he suspected was her version of a frown as she took the bottle and looked at it. Then she removed the top and took a taste of the contents.
"Ach!" she gasped. "Zu kalt voor baby."
"Too cold?" Alvin frowned. "If I make it any hotter I'll burn his mouth."
Weißtaube passed the bottle to one winghand, then held her right hand over her left and flexed her fingers. As Alvin watched in dumbfounded amazement a small flow of liquid flame came from her wrist and pooled in her palm.
"Gut," she said, looking pleased, then took the bottle and set it in the fire for several minutes. Tasting it again, she nodded and put the nipple back on, then peered at the baby.
"Wait!" Alvin tried to pull her hand away as she aimed the bottle at the tiny mouth, but found it to be like trying to bend rebar.
The baby latched on once more and drank greedily, making little sounds of contentment and relief.
"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat." Alvin stared, then grabbed his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. "Lassen Sie mich es tun. Laat me het doen." (Let me do it.)
Weißtaube obediently gave him the bottle, then hunkered down on the rug again and stared blankly at the window.
Holding the baby close, he watched as the dark roan colored tyke contentedly drank down the superheated milk. This... this is beyond me. He stroked the small cheeks, puffed with greed. But he's just a baby. And I need to know more so I can at least find out where they're from and help them... get home or something.
He sat in the lone chair in the room, letting the wee one eat to his heart's content. Caramel brown eyes came to rest on the still white form of Sweetheart... Dove... as she said her name was. The little girl was starting to list to one side. I'll bet she's tired. I would be. Strange place... strange person... A contented sigh from his little bundle let him know that Star?? was asleep.
He stood carefully and made his way to the bed, setting the baby in the middle of the mattress before bending down to pick up the dozing Dove. As had happened before, the white wings went around him of their own accord, putting him in somewhat of a straight jacket.
Alvin inched an arm free and levered himself and his bundle onto the covers. Pulling Star into the crook of his free arm, he found a place to rest his head and let his eyes close. Father... any ideas on this?
Sleep overtook him at that point and he dozed off feeling warm and comfortable.
next