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“Got the morbs” was Victorian slang for a temporary melancholia — Dante
In a panic sort of reaction, she shut the door but neglected to make sure she was on the other side of it.
the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways


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Flightless
#1
February 12th, 1982 - Podmore Zoo
@Porphyria Dempsey / @Elias Grimstone

This second pregnancy was already taking a toll on her body and Eva was loathe to admit it, but she wasn't quite as fit as she had been with her last one. She had dropped most of the weight between them, her active lifestyle keeping her busy, but stationary life had made her a little soft. Not traveling was certainly a huge change and it showed. Eva wasn't complaining of course, she loved her life, loved sleeping in her own bed, next to her husband and waking up to her beautiful baby and life, but she did miss it sometimes.

Fortunately between their own working farm and the zoo itself, Eva was kept busy and that kept her moving and her mind off other things. She was due to switch with Beau on baby duty soon however, and so she made her way out of the aviary, with Bastien and Lucy on her heels. Bastien took off like a shot, which usually meant Amelia was nearby, but as Eva waddled behind him, Lucy happily keeping pace with her, it was not her fellow magizoologist that Bastien found harassing.

"Porphyria," Eva greeted with a laugh as Bastien tried to snuggle into her friend's skirts. "I would have left him locked up if I'd know you were around," Her diricawl had an unnatural fondness for Phyri, even now that she was human again and no longer a wren. "I may never get him to leave you alone now." It was always an effort.


babystamp ~18 weeks
The following 1 user Likes Eavan Miller's post:
   Porphyria Dempsey

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#2
“Oh, no trouble,” Porphyria responded, in the deadpan tone she had always used for the diricawl, a tone for which Bastien still seemed stupidly and irrevocably fond. “I’m more than a match for him in this state, after all.” At the moment the bird was making an impromptu nest for himself between her feet; Phyri toyed with her skirt hems just to irritate him, but remained where she was – for all the misguided advances she had suffered in her time, Bastien the diricawl was the only one for whom she could say she still had a soft spot, the big daft thing. “But you are very lucky she lets you roam free,” she declared seriously to him.

But Phyri was here to spend time with the birds, after all – from the distance of a couple of years (and an anthology much inspired by that era), all of Porphyria’s annoyance at the Pictish curse had long since drained away. Nowadays, she rather missed the sensation of being a bird. At last, however, she lifted her eyes from the creature to the magizoologist. “And how are you?” She asked, eyeing Eva. Amelia had said she was pregnant again – but that would have been obvious otherwise, just looking at her.

#3
Though Eva knew Bastien could be a pest, she did rather get the feeling that Phyri was some soft of fond of him. He was making his best attempts to show his affection, which was at least, easier than when he used to try and eat everyone's shoelaces. She watched with a chuckle as Bastien made his way straight for Phyri's hems. "Hey now, be a gentleman, it's not nice to get in a lady's skirts." It was exactly how one ended up in her current situation.

"Oh you know, exhausted, but quite content to be at work," She chuckled. Her condition was obvious by now and she knew that both her father and husband were going to start giving her a hard time about being at work so much, but she had found a nice balance between home and the zoo, so she rather thought they could both stuff it. "And yourself? Been busy these days?" Eva hadn't the foggiest what it was Phyri did with her time, their gap in class a baffling sort of experience, but still, they managed to be friends easily enough. Of course having Amelia in common helped. Truthfully Eva enjoyed Phyri's general demeanor as well, so there was that.


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#4
“Better him than any of the gentlemen I meet in society,” Phyri said dryly, with a snort. Speaking of getting into people’s skirts – “Yes, I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” she added lightly, though couldn’t bring herself to gush about it: she simply could not envy Eavan Miller one bit. Childbearing and motherhood seemed a monstrous endeavour, and one she would be most content to personally forgo, much the same as she would marriage.

(There was something delightfully gruesome and ghastly about the process of giving birth, though – enough of her friends were wives and mothers to have allowed her to glean plenty, and her own mother had always been very open about the gore – but Porphyria censored herself before she started down that path with a currently-pregnant-woman.)

“Yes, you could say that,” she said instead, with an airy smile; though busy, to her, was always more in thought and word than in anything else. Besides, she could work and work and still not lose herself in it enough to be satisfied with it. “I’ve been looking for inspiration, actually. I was hoping,” Phyri paused to nudge Bastien momentarily out from her feet before she tripped up on him, “you might introduce me to more of your friends from the aviary.” Feathered friends, that was.

#5
Well there was that. Bastien was harmless, at least where Phyri was concerned, as besotted as he was by the brunette. "Thank you," Was all Eva went for as she knew Porphyria was not interested in the details of pregnancy.

"Inspiration? In the aviary? Whatever are you writing about?" Just as Phyri could not truly understand Eva's life, Eva could not quite wrap her head around how it was that her friend spent her time. Still, though as opposite as they could be, Eva was not one to turn down the opportunity to share her birds with anyone. Not to mention she rather enjoyed having friends with different interests, it kept things well, interesting.

Despite her questioning, Eva turned back toward the aviary and gestured for Phyri to join her. Certainly Beau would understand her delay.


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#6
“Oh, who can ever say with poetry?” Phyri tossed out glibly, with a wave of her hand to encompass life, truth, everything. Poetry was a muddier water than most forms of literary endeavour, and no shallow pool. One never quite knew what might be fished up from its deepest fathoms until the words were written. (And sometimes one still did not know, even then.)

Perhaps she could go on a fishing trip with her father tomorrow. That might turn up the muse. For now, though – Porphyria threw herself into step with Eavan Miller, thankful that Bastien was getting underfoot to slow her down else she might have found herself markedly impatient at a pregnant woman’s pace, or lack thereof. “But yes, the aviary,” she said with a sigh, and then glanced sidelong at the redhead, wondering whether she would understand or merely think her unhinged. “Every so often, I miss being a bird.”

#7
Eva really had no frame of reference about poetry or its creation, she would have to take Phyri's word on that. She supposed that inspiration could strike just about anywhere though. Fortunately it was a quick walk, even as slow as she waddled, back to the aviary. Bastien quickly made his way in as Eva unlocked the door, no doubt hurrying off to get something from his nest to show off to Phyri as diricawls liked to do with a potential... mate.

Once through the outside door, Eva locked it again behind them. It was technically closed for the day, after all. "Welcome to my home away from home." She chuckled, opening the inside door wide enough for Phyri to pass. It housed several large trees, thanks to an expansion charm on the roof. It was broken up into smaller parts, keeping the predatory birds away from the smaller ones, but the more harmless ones all lived in the main part. "I've a phoenix hiding somewhere, a slew of snidgets and diricawls, a couple owls being rehabilitated. Some smaller exotic breeds in their own spaces." Eva gestured widely at the room at large, leaving Phyri to wander freely. Of course that was when Bastien returned with his present for her, a half-dead bloom of some sort that he'd pilfered from the zoo's garden, looking quite proud of himself as he presented it to her.


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