Make Her Stop!
Summary: Lionel is given a special task, and all he wants to know is how to make her stop…!
Date: 13 July 2013
Related: Meeting in the Market

July 13, 3013 — Keats Townhouse, Pale Horse Caravan

Lionel can't remember why he agreed to this.

It happened in a whirlwind. He had been in the Market Center, chatting with Rebecca Mordain and a Phylon Senator. Oh, right, and Talayla Orelle and her puppy Brave had been there too. He had felt so relaxed, flirting easily with the Senator — Nimara Demoore he seems to remember her name being. She was quite a beauty, so that helped, and Lionel had always appreciated beauty.

So, there he was, chatting up three beautiful women and a squeaker Rovehn terrier and then he ended up with the most unsuspecting package in his arms: toddler-aged Sophia Mordain. Now, it wouldn't be fair to say that Lionel isn't a kids person, but he definitely has almost no experience with their care. He was the youngest child of two, looked after primarily by a loving mother and serious brother. He usually avoided the whole "child care" thing, which was probably why he worked so well with Jeremy. Jeremy handled the babies while Lionel flirted with their mothers. It was a perfectly balanced relationship.

But, now, Jeremy was still back in Arborenin healing up after the ambush attack against the Hostiles and Rebecca needed someone to watch Sophia. Lionel didn't remember agreeing to it, but that didn't stop him staring across the kitchen table into those big beautiful blue eyes of the strawberry-haired baern some thirty minutes after Bex dropped and ran.

The baby had been bubbling happily for ten solid minutes, chewing on her recently de-socked foot. Her smile had been relentless, her laughter sharp and coo-worthy. But then, at the twelve minute mark, the crying started. It first was a bit of a choked whimpering, her expression fussing up with something that resembled a frown.

"Oh… no… no, no," Lionel started to warn, rising out of his seat. "Cm'on now, 'Phia. You've been doin' so good…"

Then the whimpering started to turn to uneven little blurts of wails. Lionel was out of his chair, striding around the table to gather her up. He saw Jeremy do this. Bouncing. It supposedly help. Bounce, bounce.

"Easy, easy," he started to coo.

Those little wails started to compound on each other until her head tilted back and she let loose a storm of great, loud howls that included the watering of eyes and the great red splotching of the face. Lionel looked into the face of the wailing monster as if it was worse than the largest of the Hostile fiends. He stood there, aghast, for three solid minutes. Then the panic set in.

"Sophia, Sophia," he chanted as he bounced her vigorously around the dining room, clutching her against one side of his hip while he bounced her toward the baby bag he had been left with. She started gasping in enormous breaths to fuel those nightmarish wails until all there was, was a rhythmic: "Huhhhhhh, waaaahhhhh, huhhhhh, wahhhhh!"

"By the Mother, who gave you those fucking lungs," Lionel managed in reply after two teething rings and some plush toy that resembled a fish failed to sooth the child.

"Huhhhhhh, waaaaahhhh! Hu-hu-hu-hor…"

"Hor — ?" Lionel asked. "Hor — n. No, Lionel, bad."

"Huhhhhh, hu-hu-hors…"

"Hors — ie?" He asked hopefully as he held the baby by her underarms out in front of him, staring into that ghoulish, sob-ridden face.

"HORSIE!" Sophia wailed.

"Oh Sage On a Crutch," Lionel cursed as he drew the child in and started scrambling for his comm. He punched in an automatic dial, and pressing the device to his ear, listened to the soft tings that announced the comm was attempting to connect. That three-second series of soft, calming noises was like an entire lifetime before a groggy voice answered on the other end: "Lie…?"

"Jere! Thank the Gods. Make Her Stop!" And he turned the comm toward Sophia so Jeremy could hear every last desperate wail.

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