[ Every pregnancy is different. That's what Pema had gently reassured them. Some started out smoothly and ended with difficult labors, some were the other way around. That doesn't stop the anxiety, which Hei usually controls well, from bubbling up each time Korra suffers from unfamiliar cramps, or a disturbing lethargy that roots her to the spot. Korra's own worries, whatever they are, are well-buttoned up -- but under those buttons is a button-sized baby, half Contractor, half Avatar. (An Avatractor?) There's something decidedly queasy-making about her carrying something that's alive, as vulnerable as a jelly doughnut inside the softness of her belly -- yet as draining as a parasite. ]
[ Most expectant fathers wouldn't think that way, Hei knows. Most would, most likely, make their partner wear some body armor -- find a spare hubcap, even a nice cast-iron frying pan that she could tie around her waist. ]
[ Except the unborn baby isn't Hei's concern. Just Korra. (Maybe that won't change, even after the baby arrives.) ]
[ Creeping silently into the bedroom, Hei ignores the seasick lurch when he finds Korra curled up on the futon, her hair a dark mudslide across her scrunched-up face. Carefully, he settles at the edge of the futon. Reaches out, so the curve of her hot face is met by the cradle of his cool hand. A pregnancy isn't an illness, he reminds himself. Yet in moments like these, it's difficult not to regard it as one. To resent the baby like a cancer festering inside her, poisoning her blood even as it saps the life out of her. ]
[ Quietly, ]
Maybe the prawns were too heavy.
[ He's been keeping track of which foods trigger her pyrosis, and which don't, so he knows what dishes to avoid making in the future. ]
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Date: 2015-03-02 03:24 am (UTC)[ Most expectant fathers wouldn't think that way, Hei knows. Most would, most likely, make their partner wear some body armor -- find a spare hubcap, even a nice cast-iron frying pan that she could tie around her waist. ]
[ Except the unborn baby isn't Hei's concern. Just Korra. (Maybe that won't change, even after the baby arrives.) ]
[ Creeping silently into the bedroom, Hei ignores the seasick lurch when he finds Korra curled up on the futon, her hair a dark mudslide across her scrunched-up face. Carefully, he settles at the edge of the futon. Reaches out, so the curve of her hot face is met by the cradle of his cool hand. A pregnancy isn't an illness, he reminds himself. Yet in moments like these, it's difficult not to regard it as one. To resent the baby like a cancer festering inside her, poisoning her blood even as it saps the life out of her. ]
[ Quietly, ]
Maybe the prawns were too heavy.
[ He's been keeping track of which foods trigger her pyrosis, and which don't, so he knows what dishes to avoid making in the future. ]