Thread: Sweet Dreams [Temara]

RE Sweet Dreams Rayner took her hand between his larger two and gently pulled as he leaned forward, rising to his feet and standing close by her. He blinked curiously, and nodded, as she spoke, and looked around. Was it so late? She had mentioned some feeding earlier, it must have been that late. No wonder he'd... fallen asleep on the couch apparently. But he nodded none the less, and grinned. He didn't mind the idea of rocking her to sleep at all, but far be it from him to decide it was his place to wake a little angel. Rayner couldn't recall where the baby's room was for half a moment, and then the next thing he knew he was at the cradle. He didn't question it. It didn't even seem particularly strange. He froze. Yes, the man faced down dragons or dragon, at least and all sorts of nonsense, but he looked at the cradle and just stopped mid step. Not in fear or nervousness. Several steps back he simply paused as if caught out of time, looking at the little structure as thought it were some alien thing of magnificence, a hanging garden or great old ruin put together in a way that he'd never ventured to fathom a building could be structured before. He stayed there for a moment, sizing it up, and then slowly approached in a- quite ironically- dream like fascination, almost as if trying to hold off passing the point where he could see over the lip and down inside of it properly another moment, as though he wasn't ready for it, still trying to prepare last minute for that instant. It passed without him hardly noticing though. He caught a glimpse of the little face inside, and his face, already locked with a soft focus on her to exclusion of all else, melted as he caught a spring in his step, never mind the wound, and went right beside the cradle, placing a hand on each side of the thing. She was so tiny, but somehow, even at the first time and with her eyes closed, he knew this child could not possibly have been mistaken for any other. Unique. Perfect. Full of spirit and sculpted like she really had been delivered right from some sort of heaven. For several seconds he stared down inside with wonder and rapture, face gently moving through different phases that never came quite fully to the surface, before he looked up to Celeste as if for permission, or asking if it were even possible. And then Rayner bent down, and ever so carefully lifted the tiny bundle. My... He whispered, staring down at the little face and studying it, memorizing the appearance, the shape and tiny lashes, the expression that- though he'd likely never realize it- was one-hundred-percent her father's grin, the weight and softness. Even though she was already asleep, he ever so gently rocked her, looking down at the face and visibly tracing over every inch of her carefully with his eyes, as if literally running a finger up and down her face to make sure he covered every last molecule of surface. What.... was it... He stumbled on, searching for words, not in a way that said his awe at seeing his daughter had literally deprived him of ability to form thoughts, but as if he was desperately searching for a single exact phrase, something delicate and difficult or caught in an old memory he was trying to dredge up, by the effort it took. No doubt it seemed so silly to her, for him to worry so much about words right now, only moments after he'd finished forgetting the rest of the world in favor of the child in his arms, but to Rayner it was very important to try this right now. The one phrase. He knew he remembered it. It wasn't just for him. He liked it, and wanted to recall, and make sure he was correct, but it was as if for Celeste and the little girl, these exact words, verbatim, meticulously pronounced correctly and strung together, would hold all the meaning in the world. The only sort of gift he was even capable of offering great enough to suit this moment. He was no poet, after all. For him words were usually just words. But these... these meant everything. ...ma petite Serafina Aimee.