[Drabble]
Player: banerry
Subject: Azula, Lisa Cuddy
Table: B
Prompt: 026- Writer's Choice (Little)
"It's called yoga. We do it to relax."
"Yoh-guh?"
"That's right. You stretch, or you sit very quietly and meditate. You know what meditation is, right?"
"Of course; I'm not stupid." Eight-year-old Azula plopped down on the mat next to Cuddy, stretching a leg out experimentally. "But why do you do it? To prepare for things, right?"
"Sort of. We-- I do it before work, to de-stress. Like meditation, it can probably help you prepare for some things, too."
"Like firebending?"
Cuddy looked around at the hotel room's very pristine, very flammable curtains and bedsheets. "No. Not like firebending."
That seemed to deplete most of Azula's interest. She half-heartedly followed along in the stretches, but after about five minutes of quiet meditation, Cuddy happened to glance over and discover that the little girl had fallen fast asleep.
Eight-year-olds, apparently, had far shorter attention spans than sixteen-year-olds.
Cuddy quickly finished her routine, then gently picked Azula up off the floor, stripped off her socks, and tucked her into bed. She was about to walk out the door and into her own part of the suite when she turned back to look at Azula... and without even thinking about it, went back over and lay down on the bed next to her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her little head. She wistfully thought of Itsuki, asleep in the other room, and briefly considered grabbing him and bringing him in too; it wasn't every day that her babies were... well, babies, and she wanted to make the most of it. But if either of them woke up, she knew she'd be dragged into at least a few more hours of games and playing and hotel exploration-- and honestly, she was exhausted. It was far more safe to just lie here and think.
Safety was something that she had been considering a lot lately-- primarily starting when she realized that House didn't remember the community, or everything that had happened because of it. Her relationship with him had actually gone farther than most people realized. No one else knew it, but they'd even briefly, almost jokingly, discussed the possibility of moving in together ("Any chance you'd get rid of the community orphans?" "There's no way that's happening." "Just thought I'd check."). But then he lost access and forgot everything-- and she lost access and didn't forget everything, which was far harder on her than she had ever really told anyone. Even if House-- her House-- came back, why try to start something that could be lost at any time? She already faced that possibility every day with Shiro, Itsuki, and Azula, and it haunted her; the last thing she wanted was to give herself yet another chance to be hurt. That was the thing that was so attractive about Lucas-- he was here, and he was dependable, and there was no chance of him suddenly losing every important memory he had of her. But with all the others... she sighed, and ran a hand down Azula's back. Turning into an eight-year-old for a few days was hardly the worst thing that could happen, to any of them. Those were the thoughts that kept her up at night, and those were the thoughts that plagued her until she finally drifted off to sleep.
By the next morning, the virus had worn off, and both Azula and Itsuki were big again.
Maybe it was a good thing he had stayed in his own room.
Subject: Azula, Lisa Cuddy
Table: B
Prompt: 026- Writer's Choice (Little)
"It's called yoga. We do it to relax."
"Yoh-guh?"
"That's right. You stretch, or you sit very quietly and meditate. You know what meditation is, right?"
"Of course; I'm not stupid." Eight-year-old Azula plopped down on the mat next to Cuddy, stretching a leg out experimentally. "But why do you do it? To prepare for things, right?"
"Sort of. We-- I do it before work, to de-stress. Like meditation, it can probably help you prepare for some things, too."
"Like firebending?"
Cuddy looked around at the hotel room's very pristine, very flammable curtains and bedsheets. "No. Not like firebending."
That seemed to deplete most of Azula's interest. She half-heartedly followed along in the stretches, but after about five minutes of quiet meditation, Cuddy happened to glance over and discover that the little girl had fallen fast asleep.
Eight-year-olds, apparently, had far shorter attention spans than sixteen-year-olds.
Cuddy quickly finished her routine, then gently picked Azula up off the floor, stripped off her socks, and tucked her into bed. She was about to walk out the door and into her own part of the suite when she turned back to look at Azula... and without even thinking about it, went back over and lay down on the bed next to her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her little head. She wistfully thought of Itsuki, asleep in the other room, and briefly considered grabbing him and bringing him in too; it wasn't every day that her babies were... well, babies, and she wanted to make the most of it. But if either of them woke up, she knew she'd be dragged into at least a few more hours of games and playing and hotel exploration-- and honestly, she was exhausted. It was far more safe to just lie here and think.
Safety was something that she had been considering a lot lately-- primarily starting when she realized that House didn't remember the community, or everything that had happened because of it. Her relationship with him had actually gone farther than most people realized. No one else knew it, but they'd even briefly, almost jokingly, discussed the possibility of moving in together ("Any chance you'd get rid of the community orphans?" "There's no way that's happening." "Just thought I'd check."). But then he lost access and forgot everything-- and she lost access and didn't forget everything, which was far harder on her than she had ever really told anyone. Even if House-- her House-- came back, why try to start something that could be lost at any time? She already faced that possibility every day with Shiro, Itsuki, and Azula, and it haunted her; the last thing she wanted was to give herself yet another chance to be hurt. That was the thing that was so attractive about Lucas-- he was here, and he was dependable, and there was no chance of him suddenly losing every important memory he had of her. But with all the others... she sighed, and ran a hand down Azula's back. Turning into an eight-year-old for a few days was hardly the worst thing that could happen, to any of them. Those were the thoughts that kept her up at night, and those were the thoughts that plagued her until she finally drifted off to sleep.
By the next morning, the virus had worn off, and both Azula and Itsuki were big again.
Maybe it was a good thing he had stayed in his own room.