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OoC: Fuzzied back approximately 2 months and set the day after Tyne finds her brood.
IC: When she had turned up back at home, beaming with rapturous happiness, Idri hadn't know whether to laugh, cry, shout or all of the above. As Tyne had waded into their living quarters, baby firelizards hanging off almost every inch of her (or so it had seemed), the poor Healer had spent the next hour trying to figure out two things, one - what in the wide world had happened and two - had her charge found a nest that didn't belong to her and they were about to get a very angry owner banging on the door.
The story had come out, coaxed between Tyne's distracted thoughts and copious giggles as she bathed and oiled each and every one of her new charges, wrapped in the wonderful cacophony of emotion that flooded her mind and Myrandith's empty space. The sun was barely sunk below the Rim before Idri had found the dragonless woman fast asleep on the couch, exhausted by her day's adventure and snoring lightly.
She had been left there until late into the following morning when Tyne had awoken to the sensation of hunger. Hers and that of nine others. Idri had abandoned her to go to a shift and truth be told, had needed to run away in order to figure out what she was going to do with Tyne. Tyne hadn't cared. No one had told her off and she was so enveloped in new sensations that she drifted along in a bubble of delirious happiness as she spent a blissful two hours tending to her new flock.
There was someone else that she was itching to tell as well. She had tried to make her new friends cling to her like they had yesterday but now, fat and sated they were lazy and snoring. With a "hmph!" she had found something even better, one of the baskets Idri used to organise their laundry. Each little body was tucked into its own nest of a blanket and the basket scooped up as Tyne scampered down the tunnels, trying not to bounce her previous cargo too much. Bobbin and Cairn flew over her, the gold fiercely watching for predators. Her maternal streak had kicked off and then some as Tyne made her way to a familiar door and began rapping on it loudly and persistently.
Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.
I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!