"Babies don't have his grip," Qimat responded. She narrowed her eyes, honing in on a corner of fabric that shouldn't be poking out of the diaper. Rather than yank it out and restart, she tugged it forward and up, no doubt nestling Jorel's testicles higher than they'd been in years. He yelped at the indignity, but wouldn't fight back as the qunari pinned the errant corner in place and picked the dwarf up under his arms.
"There, all done!" she smiled. Qimat was a great asset to the Solvers. At first she was plucked up off the streets because she was very large and people didn't want to mess with someone who could crack their skull open one handed. But, after warming to the rest in the agency, she became a surprisingly wonderful good-cop, charming suspects and witnesses alike into revealing things they'd never intended to.
"I hate you," Jorel grumbled, his arms crossed below the braided beard as he kicked his legs helplessly above the ground. They'd let him keep his trousers on for this sudden game, but it was still disconcerting to see a grown man wearing a diaper, especially with a pin jabbed right into the area above his crotch. It was a wonder the grumbling and loud mouthed Jorel was chosen for this humiliation when the soft-spoken twin Kurt sat quietly to the side. But perhaps that was why. No one wanted to disappoint Kurt, but giving it back to Jorel was a typical Tuesday.
"Well," Qimat asked, still waving the poor dwarf back and forth like a toddler. Her eyes cut through to Reiss who sat up in confusion.
"You're supposed to judge who was the best at it," Lunet explained, the one who'd planned all of this trying to take the lead. She'd taken the vague idea of a typical baby announcement then added an office party on for good measure.
Sliding off her throne, Reiss gripped under her stomach as she walked towards the glowering dwarf. "I'm afraid you have it all lopsided. You don't want to jab any pins near the baby's, um...nether region like that," she explained, her eyes darting up to Qimat.
Qimat shrugged, "Not like there's much to nick down there."
"Enough to get the job done," Jorel fumed, then sneered as titters broke out through the office. "More than enough!" he insisted, already doomed for a good month.
Sighing, Reiss moved to yank the pins off of Jorel but the dwarf snarled like a mad mabari. Her mabari was currently dozing under a pile of sausage wrappers. Accepting the dwarf wasn't about to let her use him as an example, Reiss fumbled for one of the dolls that was supposed to be used for the game. "Here, like this." Folding the cloth, Reiss mused to herself, "Like a kite, then you take this bottom part forward and...tada, all pinned in place."
Qimat stared down at how quickly she'd managed to get the baby doll clothed, then back to Jorel. "How'd you do that so fast?"
"If you ever have to diaper a little boy you learn to fly or get pissed on," Reiss chuckled. "I'm certain you'll figure it out, just keep trying," she encouraged Qimat. The qunari grinned at Jorel, who growled, but let himself be placed back upon the desk to try again.
Strange. The dwarf suffered no one, always the first to run barrel headlong into danger much to his poor, suffering brother's consternation. Climbing onto her chair again, Reiss' voice drifted down as she spoke to Lunet, "I'm beginning to think Detectives Qimat and Jorel are a thing."
"No shit," Lunet snorted, "been going at it for a month or so. Though they ain't told anybody yet officially. The dangers of an office romance surrounded by all us investigators."
"What?" Reiss staggered up, staring down at her friend who was drifting into her preferred state of a boozy haze. "How did I not know that?" She scrutinized her two people, the ones she was supposed to watch and know inside and out. An entire month they'd been intimate? Her mind tried to play back the end of day lock ups of late, Jorel impatient but...had he been waiting for Qimat to finish up so they could leave together?
"Hey," Lunet interrupted, "it ain't that big a surprise you missed it. Been a little busy what with the Perp and all. Lots o' them trips up to the castle and back takes time away from staring at us trying to avoid work and ferreting out all our dark secrets."
She curled her fingers over her stomach, trying to shake off the painless flutters of her Perp doing the walk inside her womb. "Still..." Reiss felt a sting in the back of her head. She didn't want to miss out on their lives, even as her own became vastly more complicated.
"You know those two. Jorel'll say something stupid, probably curse in dwarven, Qimat will take great offense. There'll be a duel for honor. Assuming they both survive, loud makeup sex, then they break up," Lunet sized up the situation the same as Reiss would, though in more lewder terms. "Didn't seem like a big thing to worry you over."
Her friend paused and pulled the lip of the bottle away from her mouth, "Wasn't there some big todo up in Arlathan with the princess and a tiara or some junk? Didn't it need you there too?"
"I believe so," Reiss shrugged, "but it doesn't involve me."
"You sure about that?" Lunet asked, her foot knocking back and forth into the case files. "I mean, that'll be like your...what, step-daughter, kinda? Won't your Perp be expected to go to all the fancy birthday parties and garden lunches with its blue blood siblings?"
"I...I hadn't considered," she blinked.
"Well, best be considering it now. Hours surrounded by high-born humans politely clapping while babies shit their drawers. You'll go full out of your mind in boredom. Oh, and buy good dress shoes that don't pinch," Lunet offered up the only advice she had before returning to watching the qunari and dwarf battle for supremacy.
Reiss stared down at her stomach. As it expanded beyond means, she'd taken to wearing some of Alistair's tunics -- about the only clothing available to her that was long enough. But for the party, her friends all got together to knit her quite possibly the ugliest sweater imaginable. Everyone in the office threw in their own stitching pattern as well as ball of yarn leaving it to look as if a knitting basket vomited across her. Barely large enough to cover her widening flesh, it stretched and pulled in odd places with a gaping hole where her cleavage pressed together, it was both disturbingly ugly and the sweetest gift she'd received. They must have been working on it for awhile, long before she ever screwed up the courage to tell them. And they knit it all in secret without her knowing.
There had been many trips to the palace. Alistair insisted she meet with a healer there at least once a week because anyone in the alienage wouldn't be good enough. She scoffed at first until he pulled his eyebrows in together and whispered about the taint. For that Reiss had no argument, so she went even if most trips ended with 'You're fine, maybe a bit of heartburn, but fine.' Then there were other matters to handle, such as choosing a cradle which then required a vanity and changing table to match. Her brother was kept inside an apple crate for four months after being born. That was what she knew. Every mark of royalty struck her as superfluous. But, her trips to the palace weren't all baby business. Reiss wanted to see him, to watch his eyes light up as he babbled with her stomach. Maker, it was as if those two were already having conversations -- the Perp inside her waking and kicking whenever it heard Alistair.
But how much of her life here was she missing out on for those moments? How much kept passing on by with no one thinking it was worth mentioning to the boss?
"How'd you get so good at folding up the nappies? They pound it into your head in the castle? Or did one o' them in the Marches hire you on as a nanny?" Lunet placed down her mug and snatched up a sausage. For whatever reason she found it hilarious that the menu for this party was figs and sausage. Subtle wasn't Lunet's strong suit. A few of the other detectives were waving the tiny wieners on sticks near Jorel who snarled and knocked them all away.
"My parents," Reiss answered. "I started a bit with my sister, but a lot of it was Lorace. When he came along, my mother was too busy with work and a lot of it fell to me." She flinched, the familiar hollowness that came with the memories of her parents flooding back. Reiss ached for them to be happy, but every warm memory was tinged in blood and death. Her mother trusted her eldest to nu
rture her siblings, so much of the day to day drudgery of child rearing falling to Reiss. At the time, she'd complain in a whisper, well aware what doing it aloud would cost her, but in the end she needed it. Needed to know how to deal with her siblings when the blight took her parents from her. She'd cried and bled for her brother and sister, on occasion bitter at what was forced upon her, but refusing to give up.
"I wonder what my mother would think about all this. Me, having a baby...while unmarried. She'd be getting a grandchild, but a human-blooded one," Reiss worked her fingers back and forth, wishing she had a quill to jab at parchment.
"Round ears sure, but it's also one from a King. That's got to put a bigger notch in the plus column, eh?" Lunet jabbed her elbow into Reiss' side, trying to make her smile.
"You don't know my parents. They were...devout. I'm certain it'd be nothing but anger, ridicule, then shunning for my not only being knocked up outside of wedlock but with a married man."
Lunet grabbed onto her elbow, seeming to steady Reiss' twitching fingers. "Rat, that ain't the only possibility. Sometimes people say one thing in the street, but shit in the home's different. They may have loved that little bugger. Could still, from, ya know, the Maker's side. Or wherever."
"What about you?" Reiss blinked trying to hide the tears Lunet's kindness birthed, "What would your father say if you were pregnant?"
"'Holy shit, she finally learned to love the dick.'" Lunet cocked one eyebrow up, then broke into laughter. "He'd probably throw a parade if I walked back into his shit hovel as round as you without any ring on my finger. You know the worst bit about it, he wasn't so bad a father before. Not as strict as others, never beat me or nothing. But I went and didn't accept his future, didn't want it, and it's as if I spat upon his ashes or something."
Steadying her breath, Lunet stared down at her hands. Knotted against her wrist was a golden threaded bracelet done up in a lace pattern. She twisted it about and a sad smile flitted against her lips. "As I said, they say one thing in the streets but it's different in the home."
Reiss didn't know what to say. Reaching over, she tried to catch Lunet's hand to comfort her, but the always composed woman already shook off any lingering pain from her old scars. "My life may not be perfect, or what's expected, but at least I ain't gonna face shit filled drawers and crying all hours of the night." Her smile cracked wider and she jabbed her elbow gently into Reiss' stomach. The Perp took the invasion poorly, rolling its feet around as if trying to fend it off.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Reiss groaned.
"Your life, not mine," she snickered, as if proud that she never need worry about falling into this situation. Lunet swiped up an old bottle from her secret stash and before drinking asked, "Whatcha gonna do with your haul here?"
Reiss stared around at the gifts from people who she both employed and considered friends. They were given from a place of kindness if not a lagging comprehension of what babies entirely were. Mixed in with a few baskets of nappies and clothes was a serving tray minus anything that went on it, three cloves of garlic -- unexplained -- and a spoon. Kurt insisted that all the fancy babies got a spoon when they were born, though Reiss doubted it was usually made of wood and slotted. Still, everything could probably be used by her and her child, eventually.
"Take them upstairs, I guess. As if my place isn't crowded enough."
"Not to the palace, then?" Lunet asked, one eye drifting over to her boss. Reiss had expected her old friend to put up a fight about her decision to move on up for a year, but she only sighed and said 'Aye, not surprising.' Still, even with Lunet's blessing, it felt as if she didn't really want her to go.
"They've got lots of things up there already, I think. I'll need stuff here too, ya know."
"For when you return," Lunet agreed, bobbing her head like a stork caught in a windstorm.
"Yes," Reiss turned to her, catching the sarcasm in her voice. "For when I come back."
"In a year," Lunet added, "or more, depending on how long that kid takes to scurry out of ya."
"I will be visiting too," Reiss caught her other employees holding their breaths as they listened in, "often, to check in and see how things are progressing."
"Sure ya will boss, sure ya will," Lunet nodded her head, silencing her sour lips with more liquor. As she popped it away, she wiped off her caustic tongue then glanced to the side. "Ah, right, slipped my mind, there's another present here for ya."
"Unsurprising in this chaos that I'd miss one," Reiss muttered, accepting the brown package from Lunet's fingers. Strange, it was clearly brought in by carrier or messenger. As her fingers drew across the address she moved a section of twine to find a stamp from Val Royeaux upon it. Turning it over, the seal of the Grand Cathedral itself glistened in golden wax.
Lunet read the trepidation as Reiss glared down in terror at the gift. "What's the matter? Worried it's another kidney or some guy's left toe?"
"I think it's from my sister," Reiss breathed. Six months and she finally thought to pick up a quill and condemn her to the void. Lunet shifted at that, already prepared to snatch away whatever was about to offend or attack her friend and boss.
Shaking off the fear, Reiss slit open the string and wrenched free the paper. A wooden box marked for potion bottles sat in her hands, causing Lunet to snort, "Maybe she sent you her errands by mistake."
It was too light to be full of glass and didn't clink. Something was inside, for certain, but not what was marked on the box. Slowly, Reiss drew back the lid until it fell out of her shaking fingers. Sitting in a nest of straw was a small book and a folded scrap of ivory colored fabric. She picked up the book first, slightly larger than the one she took out into the field with a soft, pinkish-red leather cover. It fell open to reveal her name written in gold ink, below it was a place for the father and their eventual child. 'Baby's First Chant of Light.'
Embedded into the paper was the phrase, "A learned child is a blessing upon his parents and onto the Maker."
Reiss passed the book over to Lunet who was staring as if it were a poisonous snake. Plucking up the fabric, it unfolded to reveal itself to be a dress for a baby. It was tied in the back for easy access with tight sleeves to keep the child warm. A single card was tucked inside the dress, which fell into Reiss' palm.
"'Please forgive the lateness, it seems my sewing and embroidering skills are not what they once were,'" she read aloud, twisting the card holding her sister's words back and forth. "She...embroidery?"
Lifting the dress up higher, Reiss spotted the words sewn in a beautiful looping script along the hem, "No matter what, you're family." Maker's breath! Tears burst from her eyes as she clasped a hand to her mouth.
Lunet tugged the dress up, inspecting the words herself and shaking her head. "What's it mean?"
"It's..." Reiss blubbered through the tears, "it's something our mother used to say. When we'd do wrong, really wrong. Atisha thought that she was going to be sold to someone for a misdeed, slavers, a circus. I can't remember. Mom, she, she grabbed her arm and said that. Meant it. Even when at odds we were in this together. Sweet Andraste," she tried to wipe away at the tears on a full downpour.
Some of that was courtesy of her body teeming with life, but so much was thanks to her sister. How could she even fear that Atisha'd turn on her? After everything they did, the struggles to survive, to keep in contact even with countries between them? "I have to, uh, I should..." Reiss glanced around, barely able to see through the waterfall dripping across her eyes.
"Hey," Lunet caught her, "you can write to her later. There's plenty of time. This is a party, right. Got to celebrate and all."
Reiss nodded. Carefully, she folded up the dress and placed it into the box before gripping it tight against the top of her stomach. "You think I'll put down something completely out of character to my sister and that'll worry her, don't you?"
Her friend shrugged, "You've been getting as sappy as the damn Vhenedhal tree in fall. If I knew filling with a P
erp could do that I'd, well, I'd stick with the ladies."
Shoving her shoulder into Lunet, Reiss chuckled as she was pulled back to reality. "There is a lot left to do still, the Hanson case for starters."
"Ugh," Lunet groaned before lifting her voice to warn the others, "I think that's the longest the boss has gone before returning to 'hey, people are still getting murdered out there. Let's get back to work' mode."
"Well, people are still being murdered. They don't stop just because babies are being born," Reiss muttered. "Though, that would be nice." Her fingers crested over her stomach.
She had so much left here to do. There were a good three cases on her docket as well as some follow ups she promised scattered around the office. Her people were good but another set of eyes always helped. And, Maker take her, she hadn't done a thing to prepare her apartment for the baby. Every time she began to put thought into getting a crib or even just putting her knives and other weapons out of reach, another crisis would arrive, or she'd stumble into bed exhausted, or she'd be needed up at the palace.
Was there any chance the Perp could remain inside of her for another good six or seven months? Reiss should have everything together by then. As if reading her thoughts, Lunet passed the Hanson file over, then asked, "How long until you think you'll be leaving us for good?"
"We've got a few months left." She paused, remembering how near Satinalia was, "A month, at least. Perhaps more. I don't see a reason for me to hide up at the palace until it's really close."
"You're not moving up there until the kid's head's sticking out between your thighs," Lunet laughed at the absurdity, but a hope seemed to glimmer inside of it at the infamous Sayer stubbornness. She didn't want Reiss to leave.
"The way this case is going it may not be until the child can cut off their own umbilical cord," she groaned, flipping through the file. Maker, this was a mess of a head scratcher. A butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker all found beheaded down by the docks. All they had to go on was some shady mention of a Jack and a knocked over candlestick.
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