hellonspectacles | (no subject)

Though one might not initially expect it, Palamedes Sextus is fairly good with children, despite having no particular experience looking after them. Having grown up in a place that had no strict barrier between childhood and adulthood, he tends to treat children as short adults who haven’t had as much time to learn things yet. That can be a particular boon for the sort of child inclined to ask many, many questions, but even less inquisitive ones appreciate his instinct to take them as seriously as he would someone much older.

But babies? Humans who can’t communicate their needs and lack even the most basic reasoning skills? They might as well be aliens.

So when he shows up unannounced at Darlington’s door and immediately hears the sounds of a crying infant coming from inside, he hesitates and wonders if maybe he should come back another time, or even email Darlington his recent findings.

In the end, he knocks anyway. If need be, surely Darlington can let the baby sleep for an hour or so, or something like that. Can’t he?

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He knows from experience how easy isolation can be at Black Elm. Sat on the outskirts of town in Darrow and New Haven both, vast and sprawling and perpetually in need of care, it hadn't been uncommon for Darlington to realize a week or more had passed since he'd left for anything other than school or work or his morning runs. He's seen Alex fall into the same trap, more so now that Edie's here, and when she mentions a passing invitation to coffee from one of the other dancers at the club, Darlington's the first to encourage her to go.

It's a few hours, he'd said. Edie and I will be fine, and you're going stir-crazy, Stern.

The trouble starts when Edie wakes from her nap, fussing grimly through a diaper change, tiny displeased noises that fade for a moment before returning again just slightly stronger. Darlington rocks her, humming snatches of anything he can think of under his breath, but her irritation builds until she emits the wail he and Alex both know means hunger. At least there's milk in the fridge; carrying her downstairs, he drags the bouncer from its usual place in the living room and nestles her in, then goes to prepare a bottle. He's just about to set it in to warm when there's a knock at the door--and, as if on cue, a volley of furious barking as Kirby runs to alert the whole house to the presence of a visitor.

"God damn it, Kirby," Darlington shouts, as the barking only serves to set Edie off to some new, startled height of fury. He winces a second later, looking towards his daughter, but hurries to the front door, wrapping fingers in Kirby's collar to hold him back as he opens the door. Seeing Palamedes on the other side is a surprise--not a wholly welcome one, at that--but he offers his friend a welcoming if frazzled nod.

"Come in. It's chaos, but...come in."

Palamedes isn’t always the most observant person when it comes to other people’s emotional states, particularly when he’s being fueled by some new scholarly idea or other, but even he can tell that from the look on Darlington’s face that he has walked into a child-propelled hurricane. The barking and the baby’s wail fill the house, leaving Palamedes regretful that he hadn’t texted first.

“I’m interrupting,” he says, and it isn’t really a question. “Sorry, I can come back another time. I came up with some new wards that I thought you might be interested in testing out—I think I’ve managed to layer necromantic theory and some of your magic—but if this isn’t an opportune moment…”

"No, no, please stay," Darlington says, pulling the door open wider. For a moment, it sounds more like a plea than a reassurance. "You've already come all this way, and once she has a bottle in her, we'll be able to hear ourselves think." Despite everything, he manages to crack a quick half-smile. "And you can't dangle the idea of new wards in front of me only to take them away a minute later, Sextus. You're not that cruel."

Once the door is shut, he lets go of Kirby's collar, adding a stern stay down when the large Lethe-esque hound immediately starts forth to sniff at Pal's hands. Edie's cries have reduced as well, down to cranky, grumbling whimpers, and Darlington feels a little awful at being relieved by it.

"Just five minutes more," he promises, to her and Pal both.

Palamedes laughs a little. “All right, if you insist. I guess that was pretty bad form of me.” After all, in what world would Daniel Arlington turn someone away who came to his door with the promise of sharing some new sort of magic? Pal still feels a bit badly for adding to the chaos, but Darlington is right—he can’t exactly leave now.

“Can I help with anything? Or should I just…?” He gestures towards the living room as though to say, just go sit down and get out of the way.

"Go ahead and sit," says Darlington, though for a moment he considers asking Pal to see if he can calm Edie further--or entertain her, which could amount to the same thing. Having seen the awkwardness with which he'd held her before, Cam hovering somewhere in the background on at least a few occasions, it might even be an experience to lift Darlington's spirits as well. Letting him stay out of the way is the wiser choice, though, and they all know it.

He goes into the kitchen again, testing the water bath with a finger and breathing a relieved sigh when it's still warm enough. He slides the bottle in and sets a timer on his phone, picking Edie up to hopefully further soothe her as they both wait.

"If you're certain," says Pal--though honestly, he looks a little relieved. He had literally never held a baby before Edie, and while he instinctively adores the child, he still doesn't really know what to do with her. Still, he's left with a sense of guilt as he goes to sit, knowing that, in a small way, he has left his friend to do battle on his own.