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Apr. 26th, 2012 09:17 pm[OOC: A suitable amount of time after this.]
The decision is not final yet, not without Will's consent, even though they had discussed the name at length, but Elizabeth begins calling her son Will as soon as he arrives, wailing and kicking like he means to take on all the stormy waters of the world and live to tell the tale.
Will, Jr. is loud, irate, demanding some moments; quiet and almost thoughtful others. Elizabeth couldn't be more proud. Or more anxious to introduce him to his father. There's no telling how long the Dutchman will be able to stay, and once she starts wandering closer and closer to the door to check and see, Guppy and Demeter begin to teach her in earnest what to do with a newborn.
Eventually she is declared well enough for the short trip, and so is little Will. Without another word, Elizabeth scoops up her son -- it is only just beginning to be a thing that doesn't feel unnatural, or an ill fit for her -- and makes for the pirate ship in the lake.
It's morning. She hadn't realized that when she stepped out. The mist is beginning to burn off. Whispering to Will Jr., she tucks his blanket a little closer to his tiny chin. Quick glances spaced between a study of any possible obstacles on the ground give way to a hopeful, searching look in her eyes as she starts to make out details on the Dutchman's hull. Any minute now, she will see what she always longs to see whenever she turns a weather eye on the horizon: her husband, looking out for her.
The decision is not final yet, not without Will's consent, even though they had discussed the name at length, but Elizabeth begins calling her son Will as soon as he arrives, wailing and kicking like he means to take on all the stormy waters of the world and live to tell the tale.
Will, Jr. is loud, irate, demanding some moments; quiet and almost thoughtful others. Elizabeth couldn't be more proud. Or more anxious to introduce him to his father. There's no telling how long the Dutchman will be able to stay, and once she starts wandering closer and closer to the door to check and see, Guppy and Demeter begin to teach her in earnest what to do with a newborn.
Eventually she is declared well enough for the short trip, and so is little Will. Without another word, Elizabeth scoops up her son -- it is only just beginning to be a thing that doesn't feel unnatural, or an ill fit for her -- and makes for the pirate ship in the lake.
It's morning. She hadn't realized that when she stepped out. The mist is beginning to burn off. Whispering to Will Jr., she tucks his blanket a little closer to his tiny chin. Quick glances spaced between a study of any possible obstacles on the ground give way to a hopeful, searching look in her eyes as she starts to make out details on the Dutchman's hull. Any minute now, she will see what she always longs to see whenever she turns a weather eye on the horizon: her husband, looking out for her.
