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She’d started to fuss less than hour ago- no one else wanted to get up and tend to her, so Ionia was left on baby duty (as usual). It’s not like she minded- in fact, she had a hunch she was possibly her favourite of the bunch. Was that egotistical of her?
The baby had settled down soon after, but Ionia held her far longer- scared that even a subtle movement of the little one’s head could stir her from her sleep. She, once again, didn’t mind this. It was meditative, in a way, watching her little chest rise and fall with the hymns of her breath. Ionia matches the pace of her breathing to match.
She’s so precious- gentle- so many different adjectives fizzle to her mind, but none of them seem to do justice to how she feels. Her very fiber and instincts tell her to protect her, which she willingly obliged to.
Kumatora had been shoved into the group’s lives only a short year ago. Time didn’t move the same way for them as humans- being far above such notions obviously. But Ionia, at these times in the dead silent of night, wished for that humanity. To feel time move slow, rather than a rapid pace of years blurring like days. Every moment with this child was a blessing, and she wanted to appreciate each one. She wasn’t sure if the others shared this sentiment.
It was insane in a way- this Ionia similarly knew. She was supposed to take her role of a guardian to the needle with dignity and pride- to welcome the great beyond when the time comes for one to pull them from the very ground they had been thrusted a millennia ago. But now the feeling twists around in her stomach- she feels a desire much deeper than her knowledge- a want- no, need to stay with this child. To watch her grow. Deep down, although she would never admit it, Ionia feels fear. The simple human, earthly fear that something she’d grown attached to may not pass away before she does.
It’s stupid to worry about that. Aeolia had made it clear to them all those thousands of years ago that it was inevitable. It would be easier to come to terms with it than to defy it- it was their very lives’ purpose, after all.
There’s something else, deep down. A guilty feeling that somewhere out there, is a mother and father, deprived of a child? She’d been told this child was without parents, it’s why they’d given her to the group. Was she fit to be a mother? It was one thing to raise animals, but another to raise a human. They’d barely had any contact with them- what if she messed up? The group wouldn’t know either way, but the fear of screwing up this child stuck with her.
If there was any relief, at least they knew where this baby came from. There were other children there- she’d seen other babies on the very day she was given her bundle of joy. She mentally tallies that the possibility of help is at least higher than zero.
But why her- or them? There were plenty of young adults- young adult humans who could raise this child “normally”. Was she depriving this child by selfishly choosing to be her mother?
She supposed a non-human mother was better than no mother at all.
But the night is late, and Ionia’s head spins with need for rest- completely optional for them, but it had become one with her routine. She’d found herself feeling woozy if she didn’t sleep through the night- a rather unpleasant feeling honestly. The stars hang low in the periwinkle-orange sky. She leans back in the chair, feeling her back sink against the cushions. With half-lidded eyes, she stares at the resting baby tucked safely in her eyes.
The child had hair the colour of vivid roses, folding in on themselves to shield her soft head. She’s very protective of this. A family of two at heart, but in reality, it was far closer to eight. But sometimes, on quiet nights like these, it felt like it was just these two girls against the world.