"The temple has found out about Iridia," Jaydea says without preamble once they're in the hall.
"Took'em a bit." Ephraim says. "An' now they know, what d'you wanna do?"
Jaydea smiles. It is not a pleasant smile. "It seems there are rats in our midst, so I will see to it that they are exterminated." She turns her back to him. "Has Rachelle returned?"
"'fraid not. Seems Dracini's givin'er the runaround."
Jaydea sighs. "I see. In that case, it seems I'll need to be...inventive. I entrust my daughter to you today as well, Ephraim."
"O'course. I'll keep the girlie safe an' sound!"
Her smile softens, not that anyone can see it. "See that you do. I won't tolerate any harm towards her."
Even if it's from you.
She straightens.
"I will return in two days at most."
I don't know what Ephraim and Mama talked about, but when he returns without her, I imagine it must've been something important.
Mira and Latice have yet to finish their argument, and Ephraim is quick to break it off.
"Squabblin' over colors now, eh? Jus' go with purple- it's the little lady's favorite, after all."
And apparently my (unusually masculine) nanny has the final say, since neither maid argues against him.
And soon enough, I'm dressed in a breezy purple dress. Though it's... very elaborately decorated, by my standards. I'm sure in my past life, selling even just this would've covered all my hospital bills and then some.
"Time fer breakfast, lass!" Ephraim announces, stepping into my field of vision.
It should be noted that when compared to a baby, adults are giant. Men are even more giant, and for a premature baby who is, by definition, smaller and physically underdeveloped, they're even bigger than that.
So as Ephraim scoops me up, I wonder if he's naturally Big or if I'm just Too Small. Maybe both.
In any case, I realize he's very tall and very wide- and very warm. I might even dare to say comfy.
I yawn as he sets me down in a (stupidly ornate) high chair. Immediately, I slump forward, my nose against the tray- which, in comparison to myself, is maybe the height of my chest.
It seems low muscle tone will plague me in this life as well.
I'm almost sad. Almost. Improved flexibility at the cost of not being able to do even one sit-up, and taking longer to be able to sit...up.
Though this was perhaps more inconvenient in my last life. As a princess, I don't imagine my ability to exercise will be all that important- at least, not compared to my skills in the humanities.
Perhaps.
A small saucer of some orange goop (baby food, I think?) is placed in front of me. I know better than to try and grab it as I am.
With a drawn out screech of metal on wood, Ephraim pulls up a chair and sits in front of my own chair. He's holding a spoon between his left index finger and thumb. Is it small or is the hand holding it just that big?
I should probably know by now to stop asking such things.
"Mmmmmm," Ephraim hums in exaggerated hunger (wait is that even the right word?). "Sweet taters n' honey, just fer you!"
That actually does sound really yummy, though I don't know if one-and-a-half year old babies should be eating honey at all.
He scoops a tiny spoonful from the saucer (well, more of a scrape than a scoop, really) and holds it close to my mouth.
I open it before he can say some (probably) nonsensical thing to convince me.
Even though I'm physically a baby, my mind is over twenty years old, I'll have you know.
Not...that there is a way for him to know.
The spoon enters my mouth and-
My God this tastes freaking delicious! I thought it might be a little bland, but I can admit when I'm wrong.
And I never would’ve gotten to eat this in different circumstances. I should thank "Mister Ephie" for this.
But I can't properly form those syllables yet. What else can I call him?
Ah.
I know.
Once the spoon is out of my mouth, I put on what I hope is my cutest, toothiest grin, and say:
"Fifi! T'ank!"
That wasn't quite what I was trying to say, but....close enough, I guess.
Ephraim (or maybe I should just stick with Fifi?) has a grin so big even I can see it.
A large hand pats my head. It feels warm.
"Don' gotta thank me, lass. S'preciated, though."
Once I've finished eating, Fifi takes me back to my room for a nap.
I dream of space; of swimming through a sea of stardust and landing on a planet covered in green.
It is peaceful, but quiet- the sort of quiet that brings with it a sense of loneliness and a sense of...missing.
I wake up to the painfully loud sound of a baby's crying, and it takes me a second to realize it's coming from me.
"Aawww, s'okay lass. Sshhhh..."
Fifi can hold me in just one hand, and the warmth helps me calm down. I hear a low hum, and as I look up, he begins singing under his breath.
There is something to be said for the power of voice, for even though I don't understand what language he's singing in- it sounds vaguely Irish or Gaelic, but it's probably called something else here-, his baritone singing voice is soothing. I remember I loved singing and listening to music in my last life, too.
I stop crying so as to better hear, and at some point he begins rocking me back and forth.
It's stupid, I think, that I'm falling asleep again after just having woken up.
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