Thrive!
Fandom: Myst
Pairing: kid Achenar, baby Sirrus, and a diaper.
Disclaimer: not mine. Borrowed. Returned unharmed.
A loud, desperate whine reverberated through the calm landscape of the island, crept treacherously around every corner, and filtered through every door, no matter how tightly closed. It would be, however, a big assumption to say that the island of Myst, in its entirety and in every separate part of its quarters, was calm at any moment of the day or night, since calm is allergic to babies and flees the place quickly when one appears nearby.
Two babies make the maintenance of peaceful silence a very ill-fated attempt.
Catherine thought as much, but her husband's plea for assistance was exactly the reason she kept clinging to self-illusion. She had to leave the laboratory the minute the baby's fierce shrieks penetrated the secluded room, but she was intent to return as soon as she could, even if it meant asking the grandmother for help…
For the umpteenth time, she calculated with a definite feeling of doom. She already owned Ti'ana a lifetime free of swaddling bands, wakeful nights and battles over feeding. The old lady was perfectly patient but patience is something that shouldn't be put to test too often.
Catherine looked around the sun-drenched scenery and shifted the bundled baby Sirrus in her arms for a better position. He was gaining weight rapidly, she remarked absent-mindedly and gave credit to Ti'ana's tips, once again. Still, one of the great adventures and accomplishments of childhood lay ahead, and she wasn't sure she'd cope with that alone. Sirrus plus the hated potty was quite an explosive combination.
She was about to give in to the inevitable and abandon her hope to re-join Atrus in the lab when she spotted one very vigorous and hunting-spirited boy lurking behind the trees.
"Achenar, dear!" The joy that filled her call was heart-felt. "Your little brother has had an accident again; will you come and help me?"
The boy shuffled close, his face a mirror of his mother's despair minutes ago. He, too, knew what the immediate future had in store. Sirrus twittered in his wet wraps, sensing danger.
"There's an experiment in the lab that requires both Father and me present. Help your brother change into something dry, will you?"
Achenar sighed and opened his arms to receive the dubious prize of a sibling. Sirrus yelled happily and immediately got his fingers entangled in his brother's curly hair, pulling with enthusiasm. Achenar contemplated dropping the bundle but thought better of it since it might result in more angry shrieks; besides, Sirrus' fingers were sticky, and seeing how well they were already glued to his brother's mane, their separation could mean Achenar losing some of his hair in a very painful manner.
He hobbled into the house, panting under the burden while Sirrus seemed to enjoy the ride. The only positive thing Achenar could find in the whole baby sibling affair was that it gave him extra exercise. Lots of, in fact. Hunters and warriors don't bend under the strain, he mumbled under his breath as his brother twisted in his arms, pretending to be an octopus; hunters and warriors don't say a word when they're tortured, be it the rack, garrotte, or evil babies. Sirrus chirped in agreement and pulled at his brother's nose.
"You!" Achenar began, when finally he did drop his brother with a vengeance, though not on the floor but on their parents' bed.
Little Sirrus looked at him with anticipation and drooled.
Achenar abandoned whatever he was going to proclaim and instead started to peel the clothing wraps off his brother, trying to minimize the contact with the thoroughly drenched fabric. That made Sirrus remember why he was shrieking in the first place, and his face contracted into an annoyed expression.
"Right," agreed Achenar, trying not to breathe, "you're disgusting, d'you know that?"
Sirrus could have argued that, but lying with a naked bottom at the mercy of somebody not quite delighted with his baby charms cropped his usual eloquence.
Achenar set about the business with a lot of grim resolution and much less delicacy, tossing and turning his brother with ruthless expertise. With two fingers he pulled the wet bands from under the baby's bottom and decorously kicked the dirty bundle under the bed because Mum had always demanded the house stay tidy; then he spread the clean blanket with a belligerent flap. Sirrus watched those preparations suspiciously, twitching in doubt because he too had expertise regarding Achenar, himself, and wet diapers.
"You," said the malevolent elder and pinned the squirming baby with an angry finger pressed against his belly. "You stay quiet. Understood?"
Sirrus understood. No baby talk, no being cooed to, no funny babbling or any other sweet parental nonsense that lets you know you're the real boss. He sighed dejectedly and started planning for a vicious kick to be ready when his brother would come closer.
"Don't even think about that." Achenar read him like an open book - a strategic advantage of being a couple of years older. "So much piss, and from such a weeny knob, how do you manage to do that?"
Sirrus pouted and continued fidgeting in his attempts to get away from the insulting finger that was now poking at quite tender areas just below his belly.
"What? I can't hear you." Achenar was clearly having his fun teasing the little nuisance. Come to think of it, even the loud yells of protest coming regularly from this pest paled in comparison to the unforgettable joy of having to handle his dirty linen, and their parents wouldn't be too surprised to hear the echo of yet another concert…
"Bubby stinky," said Sirrus with conviction and felt extremely proud of himself for both his own successful first-time articulation and the precious expression of shock that dawned on his brother's face.
Achenar might assert that he was in charge, but he had no idea how completely and how ferociously the tables were going to be turned very soon.
