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The fact that it had taken her almost three months to realize the situation rankled V'rind. Admittedly she had been entirely distracted for a number of reasons. The fallout following Uridith's flight, the triumph of Krahsujunth finally catching his long-time obsession's eye, whispers of pending wing rotations, and of course her consuming, blazing, raging affair with T'at. Her plate had been completely full. And now that she'd gorged herself, she was stuck with the foodbaby.

And the real baby.

Shards and crackshells, she did not want to do this again. The fact that she had not altered her routines at all and the thing had managed to stick was something of a miracle, and she was unsure about how she felt about that. She was sure how she felt about T'at though. That son of a wher had done this, and he hadn't even caught on yet. Now that she realized it herself it seemed like it should be obvious. She had had very little nausea, and praise to Faranth for that, but she'd been as moody as a gold about to rise. He'd tried to share his curry at the hatching feast barely hours before and she'd felt her gut twist at the strong smell. He knew she loved curry, but he hadn't guessed the truth when she'd all but shoved it back in his face.

Now back in their weyr, changing out of her gather clothes, she couldn't help but inspect herself. A breath of thickening at the waist that she recognized from the first time, a decade and a half ago...already? Her mind went back, counting days and weeks since Uridith's flight...yes. Almost three months. It had taken her longer to show with her son, but...

Whatever thought that had wanted to become died half-formed, as the woman snarled in frustration and flung the boot in her hand across the room before sinking down to sit on the side of her bed, head dropping to let her hands drag through her dark locks. She was doing this again. Again! ...How quickly would T'at leave the weyr once she told him?

Why was that thought just as scary as being a mother all over again?

The sounds of Nessuth went all but ignored. Krahsujunth had too bad a habit of flying in and out at all times nowadays, and it had all but deafened her to the sound of dragons flapping. Her name though, and from those lips? That got her attention. Like a stupid handler got the attention of an unblooded wher with the scent of blood on his palms. She whirled, eyes lit with rage or some other intense emotion. "Worried? Alright?" She was far from alright, far from it. And it was his fault!

But maybe she saw something in his expression that comforted her, or confused her, perhaps. It stalled her at least, in her whirling charge. Left her dead in her tracks, all the fight suddenly going out in a rush of exhaustion. Something snapped, brittle behind the eyes, and she realized she was shaking. How dare her body betray her like this?! Once was enough, but now this? To be weak in front of the one person she had to be strong, unyielding against? He'll never stay now. He came to bed for a woman with fight, not a weeping thing! Stop it! Stop it! Get it together!!

But she was so scared. Scared, and furious at him and herself. The pain to come...of birthing, and of losing him...

"Of course something's wrong," She snapped, and didn't know if she wanted to turn away, or punch him across the face. His stupid, smirking, handsome face, on his stupid tall body. She'd yank him down by the shirt collar if she had to.

Wasn't that how this had all started, though?

Better just get it done. Out with it, and then he'd leave, and she wouldn't have to worry about that at least. Her hand rose, fisted...and then flexed open, coming to rest atop her middle.

"I'm..." But the word ground to dust in her throat. Admitting it just felt too real. It couldn't be real, right?