Blizzard Baby

Housing Wing - NR Embassy - Plaxton City

A long hallway extends down the first floor of the housing wing, intended to provide quarters for visiting dignitaries and citizens. The highly vaulted corridor has the same creamy interior walls and decor as the rest of the building. Ornately carved wooden arches soar over the wide hallway, from the front of the building to the back. Where each arch meets the wall, it descends to the floor as a round pillar, carved with climbing vines. Through the tall windows between each pillar, some trees and shrubs in the plaza gardens can be seen. On the opposite side, a door between each pillar leads to a suite.

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=> Ambrosia's Quarters

''       Once you clear past the double doors, a warm, comfortable atmosphere surrounds you. The floor is a slick, marble tile, decorated here and there with thick, fur rugs, and a few potted plants are scatterd around the living area that lies ahead of you. Faint music plays in the background from unknown source, and offers a light-hearted mood to its guests. ''

''       Directly ahead lies twin couches and matching chairs, that are beige in coloring. The walls are bordered with a deep clay red and are painted with faint, earhttone colors. There is no fireplace, but the room is well-heated. To your right is a small hallway that leads to a bath and modest bedroom, with simple furniture, molded from the walls, and a low bed with sheets colored a light-tan. In this room is also a few caged birds from various star-systems and a small fountain with stone lining and a few fish, giving the room an entirely naturalistic atmosphere. Mirrors dot the bathroom wall and there is a large one in the living area.''

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Rumors. Rumors stating that the Empire was willing to take CDU's president as one of their own? Notices that the NR military had been banned from CDU space? These and many more have culminated into a massive ball of stress for Ambrosia within the past week. All rumors and too few answers.

Collapsed into a couch cushion, the ambassador watches the empty case of her last holo chit with a vacant expression. It sits there quietly on the tiny table before her. Taunting.

A sweat had long ago broken along her brow line. Ice had not chased the heated feeling away. Neither did stripping to her fluttery pjs in the dead of winter. A more clenching ache seized her back and hips. She was miserable. Exhaling with a woosh, she seeks momentary relief from the contraction and reaches for her glass of water then looks to her chronometer. Where was he?

Having been gone not, to long but perhaps long enough to cause worry Tivadar does finally make his way back through the all too familiar embassy to the room that he shares now with Ambrosia. His pace is ironically not too quick though he was given an urgent message a little while ago. Passing by one of the guards stopping only for a minute for a brief conversation, mostly on Ambrosia's health and a few other misc. guy things he makes his way again towards the room… sliding a card and opening the door with little effort. Stepping into the room in his usual clothing and looking for his wife, seeing her and crossing the floor much faster than he did while just walking to the room, "Amber, sweet heart you okay?"

Many suitable responses come to mind as Ambrosia fans uselessly with a limp foot pillow. Most of them colorful and particularly not on the considerate list of greetings for one's spouse. After taking time to moisten her dried lips and toss the pillow aside, she nods faintly and turns her eyes on him to instead fire the retorts on silent wings of thought.

"C4 has packed my things." She states matter-of-factly. A hand comes to rest beneath the rounding of her belly...which seems to have sagged from

Tivadar catches a glance of that look mainly in her eyes, okay wrong question but at least she’s seeming nice about it, "Hey you're to blame for some of this too.." making the valiant yet probably useless attempt to end that whole argument line before it starts up. Reaching a hand to push back some of her hair he nods, "We should probably leave for a hospital now then yes?" His tone surprisingly gentle and calm despite the fact that his wife is obviously very close to labor, "Guess C4 will be tagging along too…" muttering slightly, droid can be annoying sometimes.

Amber closes her eyes to reply with a noise that can best be comparable to a short growl. Defiance. But this was one process that could not be reversed. She couldn't prolong it regardless of how well it may be argued. She didn't have time to give birth now. She was expecting replies on important political matters. Meetings and councils, even!

"She will." the mother-to-be sighs and reaches to catch his hand in hers before it can pull away from her face. Her ribs expand tenderly beneath the acquired mass. Once deep breath after another. But despite the nonchalant facade, a fear lingers, glistening in the form of moisture within her eyes.

Tivadar lets his hand be held refusing to move it any more then he already has once she touches it. Kneeling a bit before Amber he just smiles a little, "You'll be fine beloved besides I have no intention of leaving your side at all." His words perhaps some of the most sincere he’s said in awhile. Leaning forward he gives Amber a soft, passionate kiss but not enough to force her to stop her breathing, "Love you Ambrosia, now, shall we get a doctor in here or would you rather attempt to try and get to one?"

"You'd better not." Ambrosia mutters into his lips and struggles to lean forward so she may stand. "I've already contacted the Dr. Tarquin Memorial hospital. The transport should be waiting outside," She pants softly and touches her feet to the floor. The familiar sound of tottering chrome comes from down the hall as C4 drags a rather large bag behind her.

Tivadar steps back enough to give Amber more room then she probably needs but also stays close enough to help her stand up. His hand caressing down her back holding firm at the small of it as he glances towards the tottering droid, "What'd you do have her pack your closet or something? You're only going to the hospital my love not a month’s stay in a resort." His tone soft though as he looks back to Amber and holds her hand in his, "Let’s go then."

"I prepare for the worst, you know that." Ambrosia chuckles weakly and clutches at his hand. Another streak of pain wrenches deeply inside and she exhales loudly through a groan. Sucking in another breath, she gestures to the droid. "Hurry up."

The droid blinks its golden eyes vacantly and replies in monotone. "My apologies. My manufacturing doesn't seem to cooperate with the weight of this luggage." The sly slip of sarcasm can be attributed to its programmer, of course, who currently looks as though she's ready to burst.

Tivadar usually would just take the bag from the droid but at the moment he has little to no desire at all to let go of Ambrosia's hand, this is also pending entirely on the fact on if he could let go of her hand do to the grip on his own from her right now. Thus instead he just offers a side long glance to the Droid and pushes the button for the door to let Ambrosia slip out first, helping her walk and keeping her somewhat stable as they move.

"Should've left her in the waste yard." Ambrosia mutters sourly while waddling out the door. It was difficult to retain one's dignity when walking in such a fashion. C4 bumbles along behind, nearly knocking over a gift vase upon the table in her wake. When the bag wheels completely through the door, the sensors release the lock on the mechanisms, and the door seals itself shut with a hiss. Onward they went, to face the cold, blustery drive ahead.

Many hours later, in the depths of Dr. Tarquin Memorial Hospital

"And I hate....COLD" Ambrosia fumes aloud, ending the lengthy list of despicable things while managing to turn her cheeks a royal shade of purple. They'd been trapped in the maternity ward for hours now. If Tivadar's poor fingers had not crumpled into dust yet, his ears just may.

The inside of the private room held a softness to the decor that attempted to enforce serenity, but even the prettiest of sea blues and shell pinks would have difficulty competing with the storm that rushed from the ambassador's mouth. At least she's beginning to tire.

Her grip over her husband's hand falls limp as the contraction ends and she uncurls just enough to rest her neck on the pillow. A matted piece of hair clings over the bridge of her nose, tickling irritably at the lobe of her ear. The coaching words from the Sarian that braces to receive the breaching child are nothing but a dull buzz in her ears. She gazes blankly at the ceiling, inhaling another shaky breath before the contraction begins anew.

Tivadar can't very well take in the peacefulness of the room if only because of the woman who has a death grip on his poor hand. Oh well its holding up for the most part, though he didn't exactly know Amber was as strong as she’s proving right now.

Either way he decides it best to say very little at all save for some soothing quiet words mostly drowned out from her complaining, one hand does come up to brush back that loose strand of hair, kissing Ambers forehead briefly after its moved and glancing back down to the doctor.. with any god given luck at all this will be over and he can have what’s left of his hand again

Reverting to a less austere role, Ambrosia utters a low whimper and twists her head to the side to squish into the pillow as her body continues to force her participation. The cybernetic mechanism in her knee creaks and pops as her muscles squeeze every effort they can muster into widening spaces that didn't want to be widened and shoving the kid into the harsh, new world.

Where a forceful shout once rolled through, a pathetic squeak now parts her clenched lips. Her nails knife again into Tiv's already punctured hands and the doctor flashes them both a broad smile. "Almost..."

Almost wasn't close enough. She wanted it OUT. Gritting her teeth, Ambrosia curls as tightly as she can, taking the hand with her. Just one..more...shove...

And a shrill mewling sound pierces the air.