Chapter Text
[At the pavilion just up the hill from the Annex, R'alma comes across Y'shtola taking a break from her research on their investigations in the Void. Already exhausted from the walk, he steps in and calls out to get her attention. "Shtola! Gods, am I glad I found you here. I thought I'd have to go all the way up to Noumenon."]
["Alma!" she exclaims, turning toward him with a fond look. "Good to see you up and about. Fully recovered, have we?"]
["More or less," R'alma replies, rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck. He really hasn't fully recovered, not by a long shot, but he simply cannot stand the idea of everyone fussing over him yet again. "Still suffering the aethersickness on occasion," he explains, skirting around the truth as much as he can. "Raha's starting to get worried over it."]
["I tried to tell him it was probably nothing serious, but he wants me to get a second opinion anyway." His tone is dismissive and light, though the look on his face begins to betray that perhaps he is trying to convince himself just as much as her.]
["Oh?" she responds, taking note of his forced nonchalance. "Well, an extended trip to the Void is hardly a mundane occurrence, and your collapse was rather concerning, so I can't say I blame him."]
[She pauses for a moment, passing her sightless eyes over his form, picking apart the threads of his aether as she has so many times before in an attempt to determine what could be causing his ailment.]
[She does not take long in her examination, however, before she gives him a small, knowing grin. "Though it would seem congratulations are in order."]
[To which R'alma simply gives her the most dumbfounded expression he can muster. "...What?"]
["Well, that would explain the bouts of aethersickness rather concisely," she goes on in her musings, almost not registering his abject confusion.]
["And your aether is so naturally bright, I hadn't taken notice before. But it's quite clear now."]
[Her expression then turns grave and scolding. "Truly, though, I wish you had notified me," she says sternly. "There is not a chance I would have allowed you to cross the rift in such a state had I known."]
[Still winded from his trek up the hill, and now having an immense amount of difficulty following her line of reasoning, R'alma sits heavily on the stone ledge of the pavilion. "Known what, Shtola?" he asks, trying to catch his breath. "What are you talking about?"]
[Y'shtola only stares at him for a moment in open surprise. "You mean to tell me you don't know?" she asks, incredulous.]
["No," he exclaims, "and frankly you're starting to make me worried now."]
[Y'shtola's shoulders drop a bit in resignation as she realizes just how clueless he is about his condition. "Well," she begins slowly, "as much as I regret having to be the one to deliver the news to you, I suppose you need to be told eventually."]
[She speaks slowly and deliberately, ensuring she has his complete attention as she delivers her grave diagnosis. "Alma. You are with child. And have been for some few moons, by my estimation."]
[His ears drop in shock, and he can do nothing more than stare at her with his mouth open for several moments. At last, he stutters out a denial. "That's... That's not possible. You must be mistaken."]
["Oh, it is quite unmistakable," she assures him firmly. "Though faint, you clearly have the aether of another entity entwined with your own."]
["Though I admit," she goes on pointedly, "the specifics of how it is possible escape me, considering how loathe you are to discuss the details of your recent... anatomy project."]
[Her disapproval of his experimental potions is not lost on him, but R'alma is still trying to wrap his head around the surprising news that she's just given him. "I... I don't... It's not..."]
["I suppose I can understand not realizing it would be possible," she concedes, taking some pity on his flustered shock. "After all, I imagine not having a mating cycle to inform you that you are in fact—"]
[R'alma's jaw snaps shut, but he does not respond. Instead, he pulls his knees up to his chest and curls up, looking up at her from under the fringe of his hair with the most guilty expression imaginable.]
[Y'shtola draws in a long-suffering breath. "Alma, please tell me you did not go into heat," she deadpans simply.]
[Again, he does not respond, but his gaze slips shamefully away from her as he curls tighter around himself.]
[She crosses her arms in clear disappointment. "You at least knew to take the proper precautions before attempting to resolve it, did you not?" she asks sternly.]
[Still no response, but the way his ears fall flat and his head drops down into his arms is certainly answer enough.]
[Y'shtola pinches the bridge of her nose, her own ears falling back as she sighs deeply. "Oh, Twelve help me..."]
[And then she explodes, launching into the most scathing lecture she can conjure. "ALMA, WHAT IN THE HEAVENS DID YOU THINK A HEAT WAS FOR?"]
["And here you are telling me you cannot possibly understand how it might be possibly that you are now several months along with a child."]
[She goes on for a while longer, berating him as he sits miserably still, curled up on the ledge without responding. "I honestly don't understand how you manage to do only the most irresponsible things sometimes," she scolds.]
["Did you forget everything you learned as a kit? Or did you simply not deem it relevant?"]
["Fiddling with those untested potions of yours likely didn't help, you realize?"]
[At last, she sighs, the volume of her tirade finally dropping. "Regardless," she says, "you have a rather monumental decision before you now. Do weigh your options carefully, and call on me should you require any assistance either way."]
[At that moment, G'raha approaches to interrupt them, concern lacing both his tone and his expression. "Y'shtola? Whatever is..."]
["Ah, G'raha Tia," she acknowledges him with amusement coloring her tone. "The other contributing party, I would wager."]
[She does not elaborate on her comment, instead adopting a grave demeanor. "You were right to have him seek a diagnosis. Although I suspect it was not quite what he might have expected."]
["Nor you for that matter." The amusement finally cracks through her stern expression, and she turns a fond smile to the dejected Viera, who still has not moved from his spot. "But you may stop worrying over him now."]