Work Text:
A baby Vyspyn plays in the grass next to a tree, picking handfuls of it for no reason other than to release it. Fudwick sits across from her, working on a project he had started a couple days prior. With a needle and thread, he works on sewing baby Vyspyn an outfit—not just any outfit, though. It was for a special occasion.
She was going to turn one sometime next week. Fudwick didn't know exactly when. She was only a couple days old when he found her lying alone in the basket, so he decided to just celebrate her birthday on the day he found her.
He wanted to make it special. Over the past year, Vyspyn had become his own child. He had made an effort to find her parents, but to no avail. In a way, though, he was glad that he could be the one to raise her. He quickly grew attached. He would read her stories, rock her to sleep, play with her hair… he loved her so much. The least he could do was make her another outfit for her birthday.
Fudwick speaks in a baby voice, beaming at his daughter. “You're going to look SOOO precious in this dress!”
Vyspyn looks up at him, babbling a bit.
“Hm? What is it?”
She looks down.
He smiles. “Are you playing with the grass?”
She mumbles something to herself, still picking at it.
“Graaassss! You looove grass!” He smiles wide, unable to help himself from chuckling a bit. “You love it so much, you’ve tried to eat it. Multiple times. But we don't eat the grass!”
The baby Vyspyn continues to look down at the ground as if she couldn't hear him at all. A couple moments pass before she grabs another handful…
And then tries to put it in her mouth.
“Oookay—” Fudwick tosses his project to the side and grunts as he stands up, rushing over to Vyspyn’s side to force her to let go of the handful. He is successful, but it prompts Vyspyn to begin crying.
“Shshshsh, hey now, we don't eat grass, okay?” …Fudwick never thought he'd be saying these things, but here they are. He picks up his daughter who was whining, patting her on the back and walking her back to his spot. He sets her down beside him, and he grabs his materials again.
“Do you wanna watch Pop sew? One day, you'll be able to make your own dresses! Any way you like!”
Vyspyn seems disinterested. She stares back at the grass.
Fudwick shakes his head. “Grass.”
Vyspyn crawls and makes her way back to the spot she was in, clearly a grass enthusiast. She yearned for the grass.
He sighs. “Okay, but as long as you aren't trying to eat it!”
Vyspyn plops back down in her spot, beginning to take clumps of grass in her hands once again.
Fudwick shakes his head. “I ain't ever seen anyone fascinated with that stuff like you are.”
She babbles, reaching out to the tree and standing up to her feet.
Fudwick’s demeanor immediately changes, clearly hopeful. “Can you walk over to Pop?”
Vyspyn holds out a clump of grass to him.
“You can do it! Walk to Pop!” He holds out his arms.
Vyspyn stands idly, not taking a step. She begins to whine loudly as she holds out the fistful she was trying to give him.
Fudwick sighs a bit, shuffling over to her. “No no, don't worry… Here.” He holds out his hands. “May I have some?”
Vyspyn gives him some.
Fudwick looks down at it, then back up to Vyspyn, whose face looks as if she wasn't about to completely break down 5 seconds ago. It was pretty amusing.
“Heheh. Thank you! What am I supposed to do with it?”
She babbles a bit. Not the clearest instructions.
“I see….” Fudwick nods with faux understanding, putting it in his vest pocket. “I'll take note of that.”
He goes back over to his sewing project, getting back to work. He busies himself for a couple minutes as Vyspyn continues to stand in her spot, holding on to the tree. Surrounded by picked grass, she watches the ground, babbling to her dad who would respond to her conversationally.
“Yeah, I think moss is cooler than grass. Not biased at all, though.”
Babble babble.
“Hm. I never considered that.”
As they had their back and forth, Fudwick kept his eyes on his work, and Vyspyn stayed by the tree… until he noticed her move a bit closer in his peripheral vision.
Still using the tree as support, Vyspyn’s foot steps forward, heading towards him.
Fudwick drops everything quickly, ecstatic. “That's it! Come on!” He holds out his arms to her. “Keep going!”
Vyspyn lets go of the tree, and she takes another step.
“YES! That's my girl!” Fudwick cheers, keeping his arms outreached. “Come on, you can make it!”
Vyspyn takes another step, but she loses balance, falling. Fudwick quickly swoops in and catches her.
He cries tears of joy, adjusting her in his arms and hugging her. “That’s it! You did it, pumpkin!”
He looks at her with the proudest face on earth, his little girl smiling back. He gives her a kiss on her chubby cheek.
“You're a natural.”
Vyspyn lifts up her hands… filled with grass. She drops it on both of them.
“... Aaaand the biggest grass lover I've ever met. Heheh.
I love you so much.”