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Leontas Aristipossos was already well over an hour late when he squelched into the lift of the apartment block, dripped up for ten floors, and sloshed his way to his apartment: he was carrying something in a towel and looked as though he had, in fact, not just fallen into a mud puddle but made love to the selfsame mud puddle with wild and passionate abandon. His jean pockets were filled with water-weed, and by the time he finally found his keys he had discovered with the other hand - moving the bundle around - that the door was unlocked, which meant Cressida was home.

He did not look like any kind of conquering hero when he closed the door behind him and stood in the doorway. He was an unfortunate brunette; he reeked; he was covered in streaks of stuff that his lover and erstwhile son probably didn't want to know about; and then the towel began crying.

Which brought Cressida immediately to the hallway, her Mommy Sense already fine-tuned from Xana. The little boy in question had just been put down for his nap and so he was noticeably absent from his usual place at her hip as she hurried down the hall, barefoot, face shining with concern. "Beloved?" she whispered. Her full mouth pursed as his appearance registered and then she spun on her heel and disappeared again. Ten seconds later, she was back with towels and a robe. "Leon. Oh, gods above, what happened? Are you alright? Come now. Give me your..." She paused and frowned a bit, squinting at his towel-wrapped burden. Then she shook her head slightly and reached for it with one arm as the other arm offered the towels and robes. "Let me hold the baby," she commanded.

There was no hesitation in her voice and no questions in the air. She simply accepted that Leon had brought home another baby. To her, it made perfect sense. Quixana and Courage needed more playmates, anyway.

It was with more than a little relief that Leon - who had been panic-strickenly holding the baby all the way home - gave the wailing bundle to Cressida, who immediately calmed down from the sheer charm of being held by somebody else, kicking her legs out as if to show her new mother exactly how crappily Leon held tiny babies. (For his part, her father dried out his hair and inwardly gave the little girl a dirty look as his partner took her.)

"She's like Quixana," he said, through most of a towel. "She came from a book... And. Huh. An LSD-hallucination, if I've any guess."

The little LSD hallucination looked up at Cressida and sucked her own hand. There was a little fishmonster wrapped around her naked middle; she had big red eyes and far more fins than any human baby could lay claim to. She seemed placid now, just looking, far more calmly than she should have been.

"She's the most realistic hallucination I've ever seen, Leon." Cressida giggled, cradling the child easily. She brought her free hand up and pressed her finger down on the little girl's nose. "Who's the sweetest little naiad?" she cooed. Absently, not even looking up, she added, "Leon, love, put on the robe and put the wet clothes in a pile on the tile. That water looks wretched and might ruin the carpet."

There was a large amount of muttering as Leon stripped unselfconsciously, still rubbing the towel through his hair and shrugging on the robe back-to-front before he managed to put it on the right way. (Sadly, even hard-boiled and nonplussed Grecian warriors had to have some downfall.) The new baby was being thoroughly annoying by gurgling at Cressida, trying to suck on her finger, and having her little many-eyed daemon hide under her arm.

"I don't see why she was crying," he muttered. "I talked to her all the way home."

"And what did you talk to her about?" Cressida allowed the child to attempt to swallow one delicate, manicured finger and crossed her eyes, wrinkling her nose to make a silly face.

"I told her about you and Quixana and her new home." (This was actually mildly cute.) "And her name. The monster's name is Terror. She's Anemone."

'Anemone' gummed on the finger, then changed to gnawing, then obviously got bored of it and kicked out her feet again. She did not particularly look like an Anemone. Mutant Goldfish, maybe. "I would have called you, but I thought I should get home."

"I'm glad you did. You could have caught your death in those wet things and she must be starving." Cressida moved her hand to cup a tiny heel, curling her fingers up to tickle Anemone's toes. "What do you eat, little naiad?" she murmured. "You're too small for fish yet. Would you like some applesauce?" She gave a smile to the hiding green daemon. "And, of course, for you, too. Applesauce all around!"

It had taken a great deal of convincing and crying and cajoling but finally, after an hour, Quixana sat in an overflowing tub of bath bubbles, hair plastered to his head and looking resigned and only -slightly- miserable, as a tank-top-wearing Cressida happily sang as she gently scrubbed his back. Courage sat beside the instrument of torture and made reassuring murmurs of sympathy. He sighed and turned his gaze towards the heap of metal sitting atop the toilet tank. His chainmail shirt and his gauntlet.

-Those- had been the sticking points. Quixana had no problem with the concept of being clean. In fact, he loved the way his mother smelled after her own hot baths and he could always be counted on to bury his face in a basket of fresh laundry if given the slightest chance. He reacted to the scent of lavendar and sunshine and vanilla with big smiles. He never complained when his face was washed and he always held his hands out obediently for the damp rag that Cressida inevitably produced after a meal. He was, in fact, a disturbingly clean-mannered child.

However, he objected greatly to being fully stripped of all of his worldly possessions. He released his grip on the chainmail very reluctantly but even he understood that it was hard to bathe with it on. The gauntlet, on the other hand... Well, he could have just held his arm up, couldn't he?

He sighed and pouted in the direction of the beloved object. Cressida noticed the look and bit her lower lip. Leaning further over the edge of the tub, she kissed her son's forehead and deposited a fingerful of bubbles on his nose. "Darling angel," she murmured. "I'll put it right back on you. I promise. I'm sorry."

Quixana huffed. Then, pulling himself together in a disturbingly mature way, he looked up at his mother before crossing his eyes to inspect the bubbles on his nose. He wrinkled his nose. He twitched his nose. The bubbles did not move. Finally, he huffed again and the bubbles flew away to sparkle momentarily in the light before evaporating with almost audible pops. He giggled.

"That's my boy." Her own smile just as sunny as his, Cressida neatly began scooping up water to pour down over his head. He spluttered, hands waving, at the sudden deluge. "There. All done. Let's get you out and dry and dressed." She giggled as she hooked her hands under his armpits and hoisted. "Then we'll dump your sister in here and see if she likes water with soap as much as she likes water with lilypads and pond scum."

Quixana agreed with a burble and squirm. Instinctively, Cressida moved to hold him close as she snatched up a towel. As an afterthought, she grabbed the gauntlet as well and handed it to him while attempting to bundle him up warmly. He cooed and promptly buried his face in the side of her neck, clutching his prize. "Mama," he mumbled.

She melted.

Cressida and Leon had quickly found out that with a tiny child who looked like a fish and a little horse-tailed boy who was ready for anything, the beach was their first destination. It had taken an hour or so to ready everybody - Anemone, for one thing, had wailed like a banshee when slathered with sunscreen, Terror joining in as if they were a Greek chorus of sunscreen-related misery - and Cressida had come up with the idea of wrapping strips of linen around the skin with Quixana's gauntlet, so that the sun-warmed metal wouldn't burn his skin. Picnic lunch, plastic buckets, towels, putting Anemone's clothes back on Anemone, and the family was headed down to the sea.

There they had discovered that Annie's first instinct when faced with the salty water was to crawl as fast as she and Terror could manage down to the lapping waves of the ocean, wriggle out her tiny swimsuit like Houdini, and fall in. She could swim with far better grace than she could crawl, as quick as a sprat, and was headed out for China before her father waded in and rescued her from escaping from them forever. After a while of trial and error, she and Terror were made to understand that they could swim in the shallows and play whatever fish games they desired, but going deeper meant their fun would be curtailed immediately.

"I think we should take up drinking," Leon muttered, slathering a bit more sunscreen on Quixana's shoulder.

"You already drink quite enough ouzo, beloved," came his partner's serene reply. "Besides, you must set an example for the little darlings and seeing Daddy drunk would be a terrible thing." Cressida drew her bared knees up and crossed her arms over them, chin ducked as she watched Leon attend Quixana. She had already set up various buckets, shovels, and sand molds for the child's review off to one side.

Quixana sat still as stone, eyelids half-closed as he absorbed the sunshine and the sunscreen patiently. When Leon's hand hit his shoulder, he suddenly squirmed and burst into giggles. His tail whipped in reaction, swatting Leon mercilessly. Cressida joined in with her own giggles. "I think he's ticklish."

"Cigarettes," Leon said, moving his fingers down to tickle under Quixana's arm just to get that little burble of baby laughter. "Remembering the twenties." (More burbling. Secretly, Xana's daddy really rather liked it.)

"No cigarettes, either." Suddenly, Cressida's forehead wrinkled. "Do you think they can get cancer from second-hand smoke? Being from books and all. I don't... Courage!"

With a sigh, she uncoiled herself and crawled over to push the lioness cub onto her back and scritch her belly. "The picnic is for -later-, alright?" Her eyes wandered to the shoreline and she smiled at the sight of Anemone and Terror playing some sort of game which undoubtedly had numerous, obscure rules to regulate the splashing. Putting her finger to her lips and winking at Courage, Quixana, and Leon, she moved to crawl across the warm sands to the others. Quixana giggled and clapped his hands over his mouth. Courage, still on her back, arched her head back to look at him curiously. He nodded. Then he squirmed out of Leon's grip and reached up to put his hands over his father's mouth as well.

Suddenly, Cressida dove, reaching outwards to catch Annie about the sides and lifting her triumphantly. "Gotcha!"

Anemone seemed rather content to have the game broken up; Terror rolled around in the surf while Annie shrieked at her mother in glee. She had managed to get some kind of bladderwrack seaweed in her possession, and could find nothing better to do with it than shove it in her mouth; before Leon could make noises about inevitable germs, she pulled it out and attempted to generously push it into Cressida's with one chubby baby hand.

"No, no, that's yucky, don't do that," Leon muttered, who a few weeks ago would never have used the word 'yucky' in any kind of conversation on pain of death. Terror wriggled his way up to Cressida's leg and blew a thin stream of water on her toes.

Unfortunately, Quixana was not the only one in the family who was ticklish and Terror's assault to Cressida's bare toes was rewarded with a gratifying scream of laughter. Her mother's mouth open and, as it were, present, Anemone took advantage and neatly pushed the seaweed in with a delighted burble. Cressida's violet eyes went huge as she did her best to a) not gag and b) not drop the child in her arms. The effort resulted in Annie thrown over Cressida's slim shoulder while Cressida used her free hand to try and extract the foul plantlife.

Quixana's hand closed around Leon's ponytail and yanked hard in his excitement over the show. Courage rolled to her feet and bounded towards the surf, play-growling and batting at Terror.

Everything seemed to happen at once: Leon winced terribly, Terror jumped up at Courage and wriggled all over her like a leech, Annie shrieked more in burbly approval at the seaweed-gagging, Quixana's fingers were starting to be extracted from hair by his daddy.

Just a normal, wholly dignified Aristipossos family outing.

*

A little further down the beach, the play was considerably less exhausting but no less entertaining. Hands both big and small sculpted wet sand into turrets, walls, and spiraling towers decorated with seashells and clumps of ocean debris. There was no mistaking the end result: it was a sand castle, as marvelous and crooked as any sand castle could aspire to be. Its builders crafted it with care and humor, drawing stick figures onto its walls, planting "gardens" of drying green muck and working seashells into giant, flailing letters all around the walls spelling out "Sunset Castle."

The castle lacked only one thing, the true mark of a great castle, the most essential piece of architecture a sand castle could have. Glancing between the sand castle and the distant lapping of the ocean waves, Third tried to work out how best to add the moat.

They had taken up a position on the beach almost at the dunes due to Aelinye's dislike of the sea spray. Five minutes in the salty water and she wanted no more, just to be warm and dry and hidden under the shade. What she did like were the sea shells, and within minutes had found more than she could carry. The shells rested in a small pile next to her on the beach towel. She fingered them absently, eyes drooping with the need to take an afternoon nap.

Beside her, Trion Bartholomew lay reading, paperback splayed in one hand. Third knew enough of French to translate the title: "The Death of Little Flower," by Stefan Briard. The illustration on the cover was, predictably, a gothic-styled flower motif. Trion seemed engrossed in the book, but Third knew he was keeping as much an eye on Third and Aelinye as he was the words on the page.

The only one besides Third who seemed not to have given up on the sand castle idea was Constant. As loyal to Third as her name suggested, the wolflike daemon was all to eager to resume work. Her red fur was coated with a layer of sand. little bits flying off in all directions as she wagged her tail excitedly. There were going to dig the moat now, right?

Third looked over at the water once more. He reached down and piicked up the blue pail, still heavy with damp sand.

"Be careful," said Trion, not looking up. Third smiled. Trion trusted him a lot more than the other adults did, and treated him accordingly.

"We will be," promised Third, noting that Aelinye was now thoroughly asleep. It was a good time to take care of the moat. She would sleep for half an hour at least, and Trion would stay with her. Summoning Constant with a thought, Third and his daemon headed off down towards the water.

The chaos had eventually calmed down to minor sickness-inducing excitement over at the Aristipossos funfair; Anemone, after depositing a number of shells, one tiny crab, more seaweed and a bit of sea-smoothed glass to her brother, had decided to go for another swim.

It was a slight relief to have a child who couldn't drown for Leon; instead of wading in there with his daughter, he contented himself with just watching her every three minutes or so as he and Cressida helped Xana build a castle.

Terror and Anemone splashed around in the water until everybody was distracted with helping out the tough parts of sandcastle architecture. She paddled her way a little way up the beach, Terror darting at her side and snapping at sealice, getting distracted momentarily to stick her finger in a barnacle. There was a fish; Anemone and Terror were greatly interested in this. Unfortunately, their great interest had one conclusion, and the fish was shoved in a rocky hole as an offering to the great big salty wet.

And then they spotted Third.

Rather like the ostensible Jaws of old, only Anemone's dorsal fin was visible as they slowly swam towards the boy collecting water for the moat. She and her daemon cut through the water cleanly and silently, and, just when the moment was ready, stuck their heads up to eye the newcomer at the breakers.

"Fssss," said Anemone.

Third was actually surprised -- his eyes widened and he half-dropped the pail. Beyond that, he stared at Anemone with the sort of half-blank expression of someone recently lost in thought who needed a moment for the brain to reengage with reality.

His daemon, on the other hand, needed no such moment and leaped, landing directly between Anemone and Third in a giant splash of water and sea foam and energy, Either Constant was rising to defend her bonded, or initiating a giant game of splashing.

Whatever the case, Terror and Anemone both hissed at Constant wildly; but they followed this up with splashing, Annie with her hands and Terror spitting water, until water was churning up everywhere and all over everybody.

Third raised an arm to protect his eyes from a splash directed at his face, finally seeming to wake up from whatever daydream he had been in. "What--"

He found himself standing at the edge of a water battle of some sort, the combatants being Constant, a little girl with fins but no clothes on, and flashes of a green thing Third knew to be a daemon without bothering to actually figure out what it was. He knew because Constant knew, which was also how he also knew they were in no actual danger.

Third stood there while the splashing continued for a moment. Then he took his pail, dunked it into the water, and heaved it up with all the strength he could muster. The water went sloshing over Constant's head towards Anemone and Terror.

Far from being offended at this new predicament, Anemone shrieked; her shriek had a strange quality for a little girl - it reached up into the higher octaves of grating, burbling a little, and she showed her teeth at Third before splashing some more. Apparently a great game was going on, and the small fin girl appreciated it greatly, as did the little daemon with her.

Eventually, tiring of this - though Constant seemed to know the rules quite well of splashing - she ducked underwater again. She returned a few moments later with a rotting fish skeleton in her mouth, deposited it at Third's feet, rinsed out her mouth in the water and looked at him expectantly.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh wgah-nagl fhtaga, burbled Terror, for Constant's ears only.

? was Constant's response, not quite a verbalization but a very real question. In her (admittedly) limited experience she had never come across a language barrier of mental communication before.

Somehow, without even the words, Third seemed to understand Annie better than Constant did Terror. Third gingerly picked up the fish between his fingers. "Thank you." He thought a moment about something to give her in return. He had nothing on him except his swim trunks, and from the looks of it she was not interested in them for any reason. The only thing he did have was the pail.

It might mean trouble for the moat construction efforts, but Third held it out to Anemone.

She did not seem to really know what to do with the pail. She grasped it in her chubby hands, stuck her head inside, and made echoing burble noises into the plastic; quite decidedly after that, she rooted around in the sand until Terror brought her another crab, popped it in the pail and handed it back.

"Fsssss," she said. (Third was lucky she hadn't popped it in his mouth.)

The crab in the pail was in an unfortunate situation, and Third was not quite sure what to do with it. Possibly, he was expected to keep it as a gift. Possibly he was expected to give it back. Possibly he was expected to display a great feat of mercy by letting it go. He was inclined towards the third option, for all the obvious reasons, but it was so hard to know what the proper course of action was when dealing with a completely alien psyche.

That was a strange thought. Completely alien? This was a fellow Forgotten, even if Constant was having trouble communicating with the other daemon. The fact that she was communicating anything at all proved that, did it not?

Third looked around for some sign of guardian, hoping to find enough of a distraction to allow him to free the crab back to the ocean. Either that or Anemone would have to give him a sign what she wanted him to do with it.

Luckily, Third did not have to wait for Anemone's go-ahead because a feminine call of alarm drifted down towards them from farther up the beach. The first sound was fairly incoherent but the second time was a clear and worried and slightly panicked "Anemone!" Following hard on the name, a petite brunette woman in a bikini top and sarong appeared, jogging over the damp sand, searching. "Anemone! Young lady, where are you? If you don't surface this instant, I might just let your father pick your punishment!"

The woman spotted Third and Constant first and came up short, blinking. Then she saw her wayward child and lizard-thing and her face broke into a huge, relieved smile. "-Darling-," she cooed as she splashed into the water and crouched, mindless of her sarong hem. "Come here." She gathered Anemone into her arms and absently tilted her head up to share the smile with Third. "Hello, there. I'm sorry if she disrupted your," she glanced at the bucket and took a guess, "mission. She's a wriggly little worm."

Anemone burbled into Cressida's collarbone and stuck her thumb in her mouth, which was always an excellent thing to do because it made her look adorable. Terror, for his part, ran up Cressida's leg until he could wrap around his mistress' ankle. The Forgotten looked quite satisfied with herself and pleased at her find, though the fact that Third had not done what he had meant to do with the crab - for instance, eat it whole, or pull its legs off, or something else of that ilk - was displeasing, as she should have been able to sit down and show him the proper way to treat it.

Third smiled at Cressida, willing Constant to his side. His daemon wagged her tail and looked up with her "friendly play" expression that seemed to melt so many hearts. One of the advantages of having puppy dog eyes and the puppy dog face to go with it.

"No, it's fine," Third said. "It isn't every day we meet other Forgotten."

"Oh!" Cressida's smile grew even more brilliant and she stood. "So that would mean this handsome creature is your daemon, right?" With a neat, practiced redistribution of weight, Cressida freed an arm and motioned first to child and then to lizard. "This is Anemone and Terror. My name is Cressida. How do you do?"

"Fsssss," said Annie, which could either also mean 'how do you do' or 'hail to the dark lord!'.

Laughing, Cressida tickled Anemone's neck absently. "As far as we can tell, that's her way of saying hello," she announced to the young boy with more confidence than she had any right to feel. "Would you like to meet our other child?" she offered. "I can call Leon over with him." Her smile was luminous and adoring. "Our son Quixana and his lioness Courage."

"Certainly," said Third, polite and diplomatic. Perhaps a tad on the formal side, but then dealing with strangers it was better to err on the side of good manners.

Pretending to check on the crab (he had to let the poor thing go, and fast -- it was terrified) Third glanced quickly over at Trion. The former mercenary was watching Third with a close eye. Third locked eyes just long enough to send the message that there was no perceived danger at the moment before smiling up at Cressida. Message received: Trion inclined his head but continued to watch. There was trust, and then there was caution. The two were best combined where children were concerned.

Gripping the bucket close to his chest, Third wordlessly discussed these new acquaintences with Constant, wondering what a family with not one but two Forgotten must be like.

Immediately, the brunette turned and waved towards a blonde man in the distance. Catching his attention, she motioned for him to join her. Anemone obligingly helped by trying to grab the tie on the front of Cressida's bikini top.

The blonde man approached with long, limber strides; he also had a small body tucked at his hip, only a little bit awkwardly, with a little cub that Third could recognize to be a lion under the other arm. He put the lion cub down at his feet once he reached Cressida, looked rather relieved at Anemone's presence, and transferred the little boy to his other arm. The little boy had dark hair and a swishing horse tail: obviously a Forgotten.

"Good afternoon," said Leon, who rarely patronized anybody out of the womb. "Thanks for finding Anemone. She tends to, ... swim away."

Third took careful stock of the man and the Forgotten he carried. Something felt strange. Artificial? He consciously pushed that thought away and smiled. These were just people, nothing to feel strange about. Constant gave no sign that she felt uncomfortable. He trusted her judgment. He had no rational reason for his discomfort.

What he did have was an immediate interest in a Forgotten with an affinity for water, since he and Constant possessed a similar attenuation, though not one so obvious as Anemone's. In a cheerful tone, Third said, "She found us."

"She seems very good at finding things." Cressida smiled and shifted the wriggling child in her arms for a moment. Then, with a laugh, she lowered Anemone back to the shallows. "There you go, darling. Just try not to splash Third's clothing too much."

Totally ignoring her mother's wishes, Annie slapped both hands down into the water, showering Third with a fine spray as she chuckled wickedly. (Her father, for his part, sighed.)

"You're older than the others," he addressed Third. "I've never met any of them who were your age."

"Neither have I," admitted Third. He reached down and waved his hand through the water, sending a spray of saltwater back to Anemone. Constant joined him as only a sopping wet wolf could: jumping in the waves and providing a hefty cover of salty droplets as she splashed back down.

Using the splashing as a distraction, Third "accidentally" tipped the bucket, allowing the crab to slide down the plastic sides and back into the ocean unnoticed. He hoped it would enjoy its freedom; he dared not check lest his ruse be uncovered. He only smiling at Anemone in daring invitation.

"I assume your daemon has grown right along with you?" Cressida absently reached over to liberate Quixana from Leon's arms but her eyes did not leave Third. "She's lovely, by the way... Yes, yes, darling." She laughed good-naturedly and obediently lowered Quixana into the surf with his sister. "There you go."

Quixana blew a grateful bubble and crawled over to sit at Third's feet, looking up at him for a moment. Then he lifted his arm to offer his hand; clearly, he had been paying attention to his father's manner lessons. Courage made her own rumbly version of a laugh and ducked a bow in mimicry.

Anemone was gleefully splashing at Third, nearly breathless to find somebody who would play the water-splashing game - too breathless with glee to notice her father's dark look, though she never noticed those anyway, on account of being herself. (Terror hid on Annie's neck, but that was Terror.) His approval was saved for Xana and Courage's politeness.

"Good," was all he said to them, and then at Third - "So you've been alone?"

There was no shortage of manners on Third's part, either, and he momentarily left playing with Annie (and Terror, wherever the daemon had gotten to beneath the surface of the ocean) to earnestly shake Quixana's hand, but he shook his head and hummed negatively at Leon's question. "No, a Forgotten is never alone," he emphasized the word, making clear the relationship between Forgotten and daemon was not to be taken so lightly, "and we're with him." Third tilted his head in Trion's direction.

Not even bothering with the pretense of reading any longer, Trion lay with his head propped up in his hand, fingers concealing his lips in a thoughtful position. If his lips were ambivalent, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. His gaze was hard and dangerous behind a thin veneer of practiced boredom. It was not a threat, simply a message: that boy is protected, and even if it looks like he's wandering the beachside alone with his daemon, he is not.

But aside from watching, Trion did nothing, book dangling from his fingers, content to let Third and Constant interact without him. He would come if they called or they needed him, but not a moment before.

"And my sister's here with me," Third grinned in seeming afterthought. Not that he had forgotten Aelinye, he simply diffused the nature of Trion's presence by following with an inoffensive note. "She's a bit smaller than Anemone." He was still pumping Quixana's hand up and down in playfully childish acquiescence.

Quixana burbled in delight and swung his hand with Third's for a few more moments. His brown eyes glowed with appreciation and more than a touch of new adoration. Not only did this other boy have manners but he was fun and he had a lovely daemon. Finally pulling his hand away, Xana pointed towards Constant and beamed. A wave of his hand seemed to indicate his approval.

His mother giggled and shook her head. "You seem to have quite the family, Third," she replied lightly. She did not even seem to register the coolness of Trion's gaze.

Another happy burst of laughter interrupted whatever else Cressida had been about to say and she looked down just in time to witness Quixana tumble himself into the surf and paddle splashily towards his sister. "Meeemee," he attempted.

It was Leon who met Trion's gaze for a while, cool and flat, before turning back to his children. Anemone lifted her arms up at her brother demandingly, opening her mouth and closing it like a little fish as she tried to mimic his words. "Mmmmmmm," was all she managed, and she seemed frustrated with her own ineptitude. "Mmmmmm," she tried again at Third, and sighed a little sigh of angered defeat. It seemed she did not enjoy not performing up to standards in front of him. She splashed the water.

"Tantrum coming," said Leon, just before Annie balled up her little fists and screeched like a banshee. When her father waded out to pick her up, she just yowled harder, opening and closing her fists and kicking with her little feet. She looked beseechingly at Third, and then at her brother, but there was nothing to be done.

With a sigh, Cressida crouched down and gathered the squirming, flailing child in her arms. She rocked Anemone with ease, balancing the girl along one arm and using the free hand to tickle her belly fin. "There, there, my little naiad," she cooed. "It's okay. You'll talk when you're ready. You're just a guppy yet!"

Quixana frowned up at his sister, clearly upset that she was upset. Then he looked at Third and shook his head sadly. He struggled to his feet, shaking off the water, and padded back to his parents.

(...continue)

"Stay right there, darling," Cressida gently admonished Quixana. In his eagerness to be useful and desire to show off his new walking skills, he had gotten his fingers tangled in one of the suitcases and she had to gently pry him out before sending him to sit on the carpet. Courage padded over and sat, princess-like, beside him. She cocked her head to one side and made a questioning noise. Cressida laughed. "Yes. That means you, too, gorgeous."

Quixana absently picked at the hem of his robe while watching Cressida wrestle the multiple suitcases into the room. He knew that one of them was his... The other two and a half were his mother's. He didn't know why she needed so many but figured it was so she could stay as pretty as she always was. Sighing, he flopped down on the carpet, falling onto his stomach and inspecting the light green fibers. "Mama?" he asked.

"Just a moment, darling." With a heave, Cressida finished hauling the last suitcase into the bedroom. Then she frowned. "Wait. Where's your daddy?"

Quixana shrugged. "Daddy?" He rolled onto his back and tilted his head back to look at his mother, a faint pout on his mouth. "No here."

"I've noticed. There must be some mistake. Surely..." Cressida bent to tug Quixana upright and took his hand. "Let's go look." She lead him into the main room, looking around. "Hello?" she called.

"This has to be our room, Lys. Definately." Faiga moved through the floors and kept looking for his room. The flight had been astonishing to him, but Lysium actually didn't seem to take it so well. Her tiny hands were clutched to his chest and she peered at the small cat, who walking close to the man's feet.

As the girl heard the hello though she perked up and pointed at Cressida with a smirk. Faiga was stunned. Oh yeah, wasn't it about sharing rooms and so on ? "Um....hey ?"

It seemed like he wasn't expected, but at least she had a small child too. An adorable boy and a...lion ?

Shiver's tail went up immediately as he spotted the other daemon.

"Oh!" The brunette startled visibly, face blanking for an instant. Then a smile appeared, bright as sunshine and she moved forward, little boy in tow. "Hello. My name is Cressida and this is Quixana and Courage." She crouched, lady-like, and gathered the child in her arms before presenting him.

Quixana cheerfully waved and beamed; his smile was a neat echo of his mother's. "'Loooo," he giggled.

"Um..." Cressida's eyebrows came together for a moment, violet eyes worried. Whatever bothered her, however, was clearly dismissed for a moment, rated secondary to the inspection of a new child. The expression passed as the woman stepped closer and made a soft, happy noise under her breath. "Oh, she's lovely." A quick glance at the cat at Faiga's feet confirmed it. "And her daemon. They're both -precious-. Quixana say hello."

Reaching out, Quixana barely touched his fingertips to Lysium's wrist. Then he pulled back and beamed. "'Loooo," he repeated. "Baby."

Faiga was startled, but still he decided to make a step towards the woman and greet her properly. Unfortunately he almost stepped on Shiver, who was of course very much annoyed by this and decided to climb the man's leg.

A pain distorted face answered the greeting. "My name's Faiga and this is Lysium. And Shiver of course. Thanks. Do we share a room ?" The blonde seemed quite relieved as the cat nestled up to Lysium and watched the lion with interest.

Lysium seemed to watch the woman's lips. It would have been nice to touch her hair, but she was too far away. And there was somebody else close as well. The small girl wrinkled her nose at the touch, but especially at the word baby. She knew what that meant. "Pfpfpfffff...."

"It looks like." Cressida stepped closer and Quixana retracted his hand only to smile benevolently at Lysium. She was now in reaching distance with Courage sitting politely at her feet. There seemed to be something bothering the woman again, though. Her full mouth pursed. "Please don't take this the wrong way," she began, "but I have to admit I'm a bit thrown by all this. I hadn't expected you at all!"

Lysium didn't care to look at the other ones daemon, but still eyes him suspiciously. Seemed nice though. A slightly approving nod followed her procedure.

Faiga didn't notice the bothering aspects and just looked around. "Pretty, pretty...oh, I'm just as thrown as you are. Didn't know who would share a room with me beforehand." He smiled and watched Shiver who decided to examine Courage closer.

"Hey, you wanna play ?"

Courage glanced up at Quixana as if seeking confirmation. When the boy nodded, the lioness gave a feline smile and ducked her head in a polite bow. Then she lowered her front end to rest her chin on her paws, inviting Shiver to play. Meanwhile, her Forgotten gently patted his mother on the shoulder before pointing downwards. "Please?" he lisped.

"Of course, darling." Another crouch lowered the boy to the floor and he promptly teetered over to stand at Faiga's feet. A look of intense concentration appeared on his face, brown eyes nearly crossed. Then, painstakingly, he offered Lysium a wobbly bow.

Immediately, Cressida was distracted from her next thought and she clapped, laughing. "Clever little thing," she announced. "Aren't you just the best sort of gentleman, Quixana?"

Shiver was happy. Finally there was somebody who liked to play with him. With a soft meow he attacked Courage playfully.

Faiga watched the scene between mother and son with a slight smile. They seemed so close, he wasn't able to believe that he was just adopted as Lysium seemed to be. It was an adorable moment as Quixana bowed. He seemed to be a bit older than Lys too.

"He's more polite than I'll ever be." Faiga grinned and watched Lysium's behaviour. She leaned forward a bit and looked at the boy. Her lips were pressed against each other for a single moment in time, but then they parted into a short smile and a nod. "Xanananana..." Very much appreciated.

Cressida laughed. "Just like banana, sweetheart," she answered, addressing Lysium as if she were capable of both understanding and answering.

Xana looked up at his mother and held out his hand. "Nana?" he queried, brown eyes expectant.

"Um, no. Mommy doesn't have any bananas at the moment. We'll get you some."

Courage landed heavily on her side, interrupting conversation, as she allowed Shiver to push her around a bit. She was clearly aware of the weight and strength difference and determined not to let the smaller daemon get hurt. She rumbled a purr and stretched out a paw in a lazy attempt at a swat. Quixana laughed and applauded both demons.

"By the way..." Cressida paused, chin ducking almost as if guilty. "I do want to apologize about my surprise. See, I -was- expecting to share the room. Just not with a strange man." She held out her left hand; a sparkling ring sat on her finger, silver and gold woven delicately around an amethyst. "I'm engaged."

Quixana looked up and beamed. "Daddy," he clarified for Faiga.

Lysium didn't know much about banana's and so she just watched the woman's mouth and tried to figure out if it was something nice. The other one known as Xana seemed to know it though. The baby pursed her lips.

Shiver purred and enjoyed the game quite a lot as he tried to block the swat with one of his paws. Rolling around on the floor he became quite dusty. Dirty Shiva. As he heard the voice in his head the cat stopped and looked at himself. Oh...

Faiga laughed slightly at the scene and then turned his attention back to Cressida. His eyes were catched by the ring and as Quixana's words trickled into his mind he blushed hardly. "Oh oh oh ! I didn't know that it was like that. Definately not !" What did she mean by strange anyway ? "So where is he ? Perhaps we can switch...rooms ?"

Cressida's violet eyes lit with relief and her smile had enough power behind it to run Times Square for a month. "Really? You wouldn't mind? It's not that I don't like you. That is, you seem really nice and your daughter is precious beyond words and normally I wouldn't mind rooming with you at all... Except Leon's on this trip and he might not approve."

Her attempt at explanation was ignored by her son as Quixana waved again to Lysium before padding over to where the two cats played. "C'rage," he muttered. Then he tilted his head at the black cat. "Pretty kitty," he added. He didn't offer to touch the other daemon but the look on his face was clear respect and interest. Flopping down, he landed on Courage's exposed stomach. The little lioness huffed, breath going out at the sudden weight, and then rolled beneath him until she could deliver a rough lick with her tongue to his dusty brown hair. He patted her nose and looked up at Lysium again. "C'rage," he explained. "Mine."

Faiga blushed at the intensive smile and just nodded. He wasn't used to women at all, so it still scared him out a bit. "We don't mind at all, it's not like I want to part a family or something."

Lysium had started to wiggle and mumble so he sat her down on the floor beside Quixana and the daemons. The girl watched the other Forgotten with interest and squeaked slightly as he landed on top of Courage.
Shiver purred slightly and rubbed his head against her hand. Not a kitty... He told her, but Lysium didn't say a word at first.
"Shiva." A soft smile was conjured onto her lips as she pointed at the smaller daemon. "Balack...je..jello..." First she pointed at the cat and then at the lion.

"J-Jello?" Quixana's nose wrinkled up as he thought about her words. Then he pointed at Shiver. "Black Jello? Eat 'im?" That made no sense. Jello was for eating but Shiver wasn't Jello!

It appeared that Cressida was only barely restraining herself from hugging Faiga in gratitude. The way she nearly danced from side to side showed the strain. "Oh, thank you so much," she sighed. "You're wonderful. You'll have to meet Leon and Annie. Annie needs more little girls to play with and your Lysium is quite the little lady there."

Shiver's eyes grew wide as he stared at his Forgotten. Eat ME ? The little kitty looked a bit scared and so his fur started to move up. Lysium shook her head though and crossed her tiny arms in front of her chest. That guy didn't really get that she was talking about a colour, did he ? The little girl herself wasn't informed about jello at all and so she just tried to show it to him. Talking wasn't as easy as it seemed to the taller ones. One tiny hand started to point at Shiver's eyes and other small yellow details on her clothes. "Balack and...yell-ow."

Faiga smiled as he recognised the woman's joy. It was always nice to see happy people and finally he didn't feel like a complete idiot. The circumstance that he had to leave this room was almost a sad one. "Indeed she is. Lys hates dirt of all kinds, but sadly we're living on a farm. Where's your husband though ?" He shrugged.

"... I have no clue." Cressida's smile hardly dimmed, though. "We'll find each other sooner or later. We always do."

"Oh!" Quixana nodded wisely. Now he understood. "Yellow," he repeated. "Pretty." Then he twisted to point at Courage's fur. "Yellow."

Cressida smiled. This was going to be a -perfect- vacation with lots of new friends.

Humming softly under her breath, Cressida cradled Quixana on her lap. Together they watched both the twinkling lights on the oversized Christmas tree and the wriggling form of a half-naked Anemone as she cheerfully gummed various ribbons. Cressida leaned her cheek against her son's head and laughed softly. "Your sister is a silly wiggle worm, isn't she?" she asked.

"Meme is silly," Quixana agreed contentedly. Then he shook a finger at his little sister. "No eat, Meme," he warned. "Get sick."

Anemone rewarded his concern with a noisy bubble. Then she abandoned the ribbon and scrambled over to a large silver box with a huge green ribbon. Laughing, she reached for it. Not quite able to reach, she hissed. Terror immediately abandoned his own ribbon and skittered up to help her. Cressida sighed but her smile never budged. "I think she's determined to make herself ill, darling angel," she informed Quixana. He shook his head, face sober. "I know. We'll just have to explain Santa to her later."

Quixana pointed at the tree and then at the fireplace with its merrily flickering faux log. "Santa come down there," he explained.

"With the fire off," his father noted, who had just rescued the present from Anemone's mouth: she was cutting another tooth, and made whining little noises until Leon handed her a hard biscuit. She pull-crawled underneath Cressida's chair to noisily gum it, Terror tangled in her curls, and Leon leant against the arm. "It'll have died down enough tonight."

This brought a wrinkle to Xana's nose as he worked out the new problem. "Daddy," he finally sighed, "Santa already came." He pointed at the presents. "He came early."

Cressida went pink in her attempts to avoid a vicious bout of giggles. "Darling, um, those are from Mommy and Daddy. Not Santa."

"Ah." Quixana nodded and leaned back against his mother again, content at the explanation. "Good idea," he added after another moment of thought. "Make sure Santa knows where to put the presents."

"Good deduction," said Leontas, one hand at the back of Cressida's neck with his fingers curled under her hair. He was absolutely blank-faced with Not Laughing; apparently he was nice enough to laugh with Quixana's mother in private. "It wouldn't work if Santa put the presents in the dishwasher. - Would you like to open one present tonight, son?"

"Wheeeek!" said Annie, under the chair: it was well-timed excitement, but it was mainly at finding a label discarded on the carpet.

Yes, please." Twisting, he met his mother's eyes. "Down?" he asked, forgetting the please but still managing to sound polite. Cressida smiled and let him slide down her lap to land on the carpet. Quixana immediately dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled under the chair for his sister. Grasping an ankle, he tugged gently. "C'mon, Meme, c'mon."

Courage appeared at the back of the chair and attempted to aid the extraction with a few playful growls directed in the little fish-girl's face. Annie snarled back at Courage, mainly as both liked growling, and allowed herself to be pulled out by her brother. It involved a lot of shrieking and giggles and Terror running down Quixana's shirt, but eventually she was extracted: Leon watched them, and sat himself down next to his partner.

"Blue ones are yours," he said to his son, as if this fact had not been said every day from the outset. Both adults watched the children for a moment, before Leon cleared his throat.

"I have a present for you, too."

Cressida turned her blissful smile on her lover, reluctantly dragging her gaze from the children. Quixana was busily helping Anemone choose one of the silver-wrapped gifts, something not too small and not too big. Clearly, he was planning on getting her organized before taking advantage of one of his own blue-wrapped presents. "You did?" Her eyes danced. "Did Santa come early just for little old me?"

He snorted a bit at that, but it was gentle; "Weird tradition," he said, as he had every year for the past countless years. "Mmhmm. Thought you deserved something... for producing a family out of your pocket like this."

The lights were flickering on and off, slightly epileptic; Anemone had gotten entranced, and had to have her attention pulled back by Quixana to clumsily pulling the paper open. Her fingers - a little webbed, and ringed with bracelets of baby fat - weren't very good, and her brother had to assist. "A little bit of a miracle."

"It's why you love me." There was no ego in the words, just a happy sort of lightness and certainty. Cressida took Leon's hands and kissed over his knuckles gently. "And you brought one of them home, too." Shifting closer, she kept his hands in hers as she tilted her head to rest on his shoulder, violet eyes watching the children.

Quixana had finally managed to get Anemone's present unwrapped and he was now busily prying off the lid for her. Then, helpfully, he pushed it on its side so that she could happily delve into the piles of tissue paper and discover her treasure. Satisfied that she was settled, Quixana moved over to pick up the most medium blue box he could find and neatly began stripping it of paper.

"We have such perfect children," Cressida sighed, utterly content. "Genetics or not, that makes them clearly yours."

That just seemed to amuse him; they watched as Anemone gave a fire-engine shriek and kicked herself on her back with her latest acquisition, which was a Winnie the Pooh toy at least as big as herself. She wrapped her little arms around it, strangling the life out of Winnie, and kicked her little legs in appreciation. "And yours," Leon said, and his voice was a murmur. "You did well."

And if that wasn't classic Patriarch Complimenting, nothing was. There was a rustle of tissue paper as he drew something out of his pocket: and then the cool bite of metal as he draped something around her neck and deftly did the clasp up. An exquisite tanzanite pendant rested on her chest: recognisably not Leon's work, but in the best of taste and elegance. "Merry Christmas, beloved."



Oh!" Eyes gone huge, Cressida visibly melted as she touched a finger to the pendant. "Oh, Leon," she whispered. "It's beautiful. It's perfect." Twisting, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, sweet and lingering. "Thank you."

Their kiss dragged on slightly until Anemone, still strangling Winnie the Pooh, let out a shriek of horror that they were in a lip-lock; Leon broke off but his arm was still around Cressida's shoulders, watching the children. "I thought you'd like it."

Cressida giggled. "I adore it. Wherever did you find it?"

Helpfully, Quixana left off his activities to hug Anemone, whispering in her ear. To all purposes, it seemed he was explaining what a kiss was. Then, satisfied, he went back to his present, eventually uncovering a fuzzy hat and scarf set. He beamed. Anemone seemed satisfied at his explanation, and went back to her headlock of Winnie.

"It was a jewellry shop I hadn't seen before - nice techniques." (Which was, again, High Praise.) "I'll take you there sometime. Twilight Designs. I know you like tanzanite."

"It's the prettiest color." She again touched delicare fingers to the stone and her smile was just for him. "And I read somewhere that it means something like firstborn child."

His smile was a little bit lopsided. "Well, we have two. Take your pick."

She watched the children in question play with their toys, Annie gumming Winnie's ears and Xana wrapping the scarf around and around his head. "I suppose we'll call Quixana first born," she said thoughtfully. "He did arrive first and," she paused and cuddled into Leon's side, "brothers do best as elders."

"Especially with sisters like Anemone," her lover said, a little wryly. "She needs him to look after her. Him and Courage."

"Quixana is such a good boy," Cressida agreed cheerfully. "And Courage is getting better about sharpening her claws on things."

"And she uses the litterbox," Leon amended. "And Anemone sleeps the night through in her tub."

"I'd say our foray into family life is an unqualified success."

The banshee shriek that Anemone released upon having the bow that she was busily trying to gag down, having abandoned Winnie, interrupted the moment of basking glory and Quixana's cheeks flushed red at making her unhappy. He held the bow tight in his fist and looked extremely sheepish.

Cressida giggled. "With a few hiccups."

Closing her eyes, Cressida tilted her head to settle into the long familiar curve of her lover’s shoulder. Blindly, her hand searched out his and she sighed a bit. She felt his lips brush her hair and she smiled. All was right in the world. “Beloved?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I think this is the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

Even without seeing it, she knew he was smiling indulgently and her own smile widened even more in response. “You say that every year, Cressida,” he murmured gently.

“And every year it’s just as true as the year before,” she argued in a tone he knew well – pure Cressida logic knew no limits of the Platonic Ideal. “I’d call it a refinement on the method, you know. They didn’t have purple roses 500 years ago. I like purple roses.”

He laughed a bit at that, as much as he ever laughed, and shifted to rest his cheek against her shining hair. “Then I’m pleased I chose the correct color.”

“You always pick the right color.” She was boneless in his arms, glowingly pleased and slightly tired from a long day of chasing the toddlers. She decided within a heartbeat that she had never before been so happy. Absently, Cressida wiggled her toes within her little white socks, overburdened with lace at the cuffs and dangling pink heart charms. She tugged his hand upwards to rest over her heart, fingers brushing the pendant he had given her. She hardly took it off, anymore, and was very careful when removing it for showers and the like. She couldn’t explain it but she felt almost naked without it now. Leon delicately traced the edge of the gold setting, tickling her skin, and she laughed under her breath as she shivered against him. “So, Father,” she teased, “what should we do now that the children are a-bed?”

“Collapse in exhaustion?” He sighed heavily and traced her pendant in a mindless, zen-like way. “Why did you give the children sugar cookies?”

She had the grace to giggle in sheepish apology and twisted in his arms enough to kiss his cheek. “Because I’m a silly woman who only thought of their smiles?” He melted, relenting at her words just as she knew he would, as he always did. His mouth found hers in a slow, possessive kiss, his hand leaving her throat to tangle in her hair. When they parted, her smile glowed like a supernova. “I’m just sorry that we have to keep Annie’s gift away from her until she understands better.”

“The charm bracelet is small, shiny, and makes noise. Of course she would try to eat it.” He left unsaid the fact that Anemone could always be counted to put anything into her mouth that didn’t run away fast enough; a piece of jewelry did not stand a chance against the Gaping Maw of their daughter. “At least Quixana managed to get it away from her in time.”

“He really is our little white knight, isn’t he?” Cressida shifted again in her lover’s arms, settling in once more to watch the fire dancing. Leon had built it especially for her once the children were asleep; he knew how much she missed having the fireplace dancing in the winter. There was no way to adequately protect the area from two inquisitive toddlers, though, so she had been going without for months. “Though don’t you think he’s still a bit young for a toy sword?”

“You can’t give a boy jewelry for Valentine’s Day, Cressida.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t,” she retorted. Her fingers twined with his again and she dragged his hand down to rest atop her stomach. “The little prince gets toys while the big prince gets…”

Before she could finish the promise, a thin high wail shattered the blissful calm and she started, nearly banging Leon beneath the chin with her head as she sat up too quickly. “Anemone,” she announced with a faint, crooked smile. Apology in the simple moment, she kissed him lightly and stood. “Hold your heart, beloved,” she whispered. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

As she disappeared down the hallway, Leontas relaxed back on the rug and studied the fire… As he tried to calculate exactly when Cressida would agree to allowing the children sleepovers.