August waited in the hallway, seated in one of his wooden dining room chairs, staring up at the ceiling because that let him distance himself from the events occurring in the room. He had tried to read, tried even to work on one of his cases, only to find himself nervous and distracted. It was too early. It was taking too long. The baby was going to die, he was sure - and over the course of the last few months, August had grown rather attached to the idea of having a child. Their child.
The nursery wasn't even done yet, he could not help but think, which was the most coherent thought he had had for the past hour. He was stuck on this thought, trying to process it, when the midwife came out with a squalling baby wrapped in a towel. He was so small, and she was wiping blood and fluids off of him.
"A boy," the midwife said shortly, and August took him wordlessly, and stared down at the baby. He held it to his chest on automatic, his own heart thumping. The baby was so small, and yet he was alive, and August was suddenly very worried that he would break him.
So it took him a few minutes of holding the infant to realize that the midwife had not come back and - with no sense of trepidation, yet - August stood up, and handed the baby off to his housekeeper. He watched as she turned the corner with him, presumably to wash him off or take him to the nursery. August stepped into the room.
The smell of blood was expected but strong and August wavered, pushing the door behind him. Everything was red, and August looked desperately to Lyra -- for the first time he worried about her life. Could this kill vampires? Had it?
Even her mouth was red and it wasn't until she wiped the blood off of it that August looked to see the midwife draped over her. The woman was entirely limp - no miraculous transformation into a vampire possible - and August tapped the end of his cane against the floor, as if he was going to step further in, or perhaps away. He did not move.
"Fuck," he said, because that was the only thing coming to mind, "Fuck - you're - not dying now, are you?"
The nursery wasn't even done yet, he could not help but think, which was the most coherent thought he had had for the past hour. He was stuck on this thought, trying to process it, when the midwife came out with a squalling baby wrapped in a towel. He was so small, and she was wiping blood and fluids off of him.
"A boy," the midwife said shortly, and August took him wordlessly, and stared down at the baby. He held it to his chest on automatic, his own heart thumping. The baby was so small, and yet he was alive, and August was suddenly very worried that he would break him.
So it took him a few minutes of holding the infant to realize that the midwife had not come back and - with no sense of trepidation, yet - August stood up, and handed the baby off to his housekeeper. He watched as she turned the corner with him, presumably to wash him off or take him to the nursery. August stepped into the room.
The smell of blood was expected but strong and August wavered, pushing the door behind him. Everything was red, and August looked desperately to Lyra -- for the first time he worried about her life. Could this kill vampires? Had it?
Even her mouth was red and it wasn't until she wiped the blood off of it that August looked to see the midwife draped over her. The woman was entirely limp - no miraculous transformation into a vampire possible - and August tapped the end of his cane against the floor, as if he was going to step further in, or perhaps away. He did not move.
"Fuck," he said, because that was the only thing coming to mind, "Fuck - you're - not dying now, are you?"