try_corsets | (no subject)

Deep down, Elizabeth has known her time was very near. She isn't entirely certain how she has known, but she has. The thought has been drifting through her mind like a lazily meandering piece of driftwood, buoyant but easily pushed aside time and again, left there until she has the desire and fortitude to reel it back and firmly acknowledge the truth in it. For days Elizabeth has existed in a state of semi-awareness, barking orders and making plans, absently noting changes, all at the same time.

Because she's Captain Elizabeth Turner, Pirate King, and she has a position she is determined to maintain.

Somehow.

When the first pain hits, she thinks, Yes, there it is, and stares at her face in her small, cracked looking glass; so different now than the face she'd seen reflected back at her in Port Royal. Better, she thinks. Lived in. The corner of her mouth curves up, and the full lips in the mirror do the same. The scarlet sash today, she decides with a decisive nod, gingerly getting dressed as she had the day before, and the day before that.

Tai Huang eyes her half an hour later, as he is giving a report. Elizabeth slowly, carefully unclenches her fingers from the starboard rail. "The wind is shifting. Starboard tack." As she moves away she does her best to walk straight and tall, not waddle.

Everyone on board knows where to find the Captain at sunrise (keep a weather eye on the horizon), though she's rarely bothered these days. Still, when she gasps aloud and unbends her stiff shoulders to curl in, to try and stop it, two of the men Tai Huang and Gibbs like to keep in their sights guffaw from the main deck. Straightening takes no small effort of will, but she does it; and as she does, she sets her mouth in a thin line and decides, finally, that it's time to find Gibbs. Ready or not, the baby has had enough of waiting.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Because you need it and your own mother can't be here,"

She is a mother and in the end, that's truly enough.

Elizabeth lowers her gaze to the end of the bed and takes a deep breath.

"Father can't either," she notes.

And he would be, she thinks. Hovering just beyond the door with a smile as excited as it was nervous. At that moment, she'd do just about anything to see his face again. Her eyes well up and she blinks back tears before they fall.

The feeling fades faster than it used to, now. She remembers how it was when her mother died. How one day she couldn't recall the shape of her face but could still remember exactly how her mother smelled.

"Thank you," Elizabeth says again, and means it. "I think... I'll change now." A glance back at Demeter. "Perhaps I could read? There are a number of favorites in the room upstairs."

Pirate adventure stories, every one.

"If he could, I know he would be, same as your Will. Tell me what you'd like and I'll get it for you,"

Demeter hugs her just as gently as the circles on her back.

"Yes," Elizabeth agrees easily. They would.

There's a small bundle of clothing on the table beside the bed, tied with twine. She points to it.

"There's a shift in there," she says, wryly, "cut on the large side. What I have on is salt-stiff and not terribly fresh."

She nods and slips the twine off to find the shift,

"I think there might be a shower in the bathroom here. It might do you good to stand in the hot water before you change."

"A shower."

Elizabeth starts to smile.

"Before Milliways, I'd never had the pleasure." She nods when Demeter locates the correct garment in her pile of things, under another tunic (smaller, in one of her more optimistic moments) and a leather cord with a key attached. "It almost made being bound tolerable."

"Then you should have one now, the warm water will do you a great amount of good. Since your body is getting itself ready for the baby to come out."

She nods, then allows the silence to build for a moment.

"It won't be dignified," she blurts out, "will it?"

"No, it will be strange, painful, but also will completely change your life. I won't leave your side for any of it,"

In her voice is a goddess' promise, someone who makes sure that life thrives.

That seems to substantially bolster Elizabeth's nerve. She nods once, stealing herself for movement, and holds out a hand.

"I'm ready."

In more ways than one, she thinks. Now.

"Then we'll just have to hope the baby is ready too. So go and change and take a shower,"

Demeter smiles, Elizabeth is so young and brave.

"I don't believe that will be a problem," she promises with a small laugh, surprisingly full of genuine humor. "I'll go."

She looks toward the front of the infirmary.

"Should anyone come with a message," she pauses, "ask them to wait?"

"Of course, I'll be right here,"

Demeter moves her towards the bathroom and settles on a chair, pulling a cushion from her sleeve.

[OOC: Continued here.]