in the middle of the night

[peacefullywreathed]

Characters: Solomon Wreath and Bakura
Date: All of August
Location: Initially, shell's edge. Later, various.
Situation: They're taking their turtles to the beach. For real. Also, other shenanigans to be updated as needed.
Warnings/Rating: None as yet.

It's more like five minutes after their conversation on the network that Solomon and Marcy shadow-walk into Bakura's living-room, in an area where Marcy won't break anything while she's sprawled very pointedly across the floor. Also, on his feet. It's far, far too much effort to get annoyed at her, even if his toes are a bit numb.

Instead Solomon sighs, prods her with his cane, ignores the whining grunt she offers back, and resists the urge to lean back against the wall. It's hot. He never did like India.

Comments

[denyamenti]

I don't think they come from eggs, Emily-Helen returned thoughtfully, tilting her head at the two men as if trying to picture them contained within a shell.

Bakura is unaware his being cordial is eerie, which is probably for the best. He isn't offended by the brusque tone though and seems to be contemplating actual advice to give. "Hold onto the shell with one hand and let yourself float. People are more buoyant than they realize."

[peacefullywreathed]

Whyever not? Marcelon objected. Eggs are warm and keep you safe until you're ready to see the whole world. Where else would they come from?

Floating. Of course. Solomon vaguely remembered floating, those few times he had swum in the stream when he was a boy--before he'd begun avoiding the place after Sean's death. He also remembered it being fairly simple.

With a deep breath Solomon pushed himself away from Marcelon, but within arm's reach so he could still clutch her shell, and shifted to lie flat. He realised, very quickly, that remaining tense did not help the 'floating' part, but it took far more effort than he wished to actually relax.

It wasn't easy, especially with the light in his eyes, but after a minute he did, in fact, manage to float, one hand shading his face and the rest of him ... actually a little soothed by the sensation. "Hm. So you do give good advice on occasion."

It comes out dry, but also relieved.

[denyamenti]

Emily-Helen wasn't entirely sure herself, other than she was mostly certain there were no eggs involved for their parents, but as for the other part, she had no clue. Perhaps they grow out of the ground... she suggested dubiously.

"Once in a rare while," Bakura answered sardonically, resisting the urge to shove Solomon's head under the water for that quip as that would likely destroy any further inclination to be in the water. Indeed, Emily-Helen gave a warning ping in his mind at the mere thought of it.

"Now you just have to remember to float when you're right side up," he said instead. "Can you ride a bike?"

[peacefullywreathed]

Solomon eased himself back into a more upright position, splashing water on his own face to take the edge off the heat. "I've never ridden a bike," he said dryly. "They were invented long after I was born and I never saw the need to learn when I could shadow-walk where I needed to go."

Or ride a horse. Horses, in his opinion, beat nearly any mode of transportation, even though he hadn't ridden one in years.

Where do human babies come from? Marcelon demanded suddenly, craning her head around at them as though she'd been deep in thought and now desperately needed an answer to what was bothering her. Do they come out of the ground?

Solomon blinked and looked at Bakura, and was intensely glad he was no longer floating. "What has your turtle been saying to my turtle?"

[denyamenti]

He shrugged, swimming was like riding a bike in the fact that forward motion was required to make it easier. It had been an idle comparison (though Bakura preferred horses as well).

"How should I know?" Bakura answered. "She only talks to me when she wants something."

That's not true! Emily-Helen retorted, splashing angrily. And we are wondering, we want to know where our persons come from, and I thought they might grow like plants since we do not think they come from eggs like turtles.

[peacefullywreathed]

YOU did not think they come from eggs like turtles, Marcelon corrected. Everything has to come from eggs. Why wouldn't they?

"You're partly right," Solomon admitted, and Marcelon trilled, lifting her head in a smug sort of fashion. "Partly," Solomon emphasised, pulling himself closer to her shell so she didn't knock him away in her enthusiasm. "Turtles lay eggs and children are born from them after the fact. For humans, the children grow out of the eggs inside the mother and then are born live."

INSIDE the mother?! Marcelon squeaked, sounding horrified. There wouldn't be any room! You'd make your mothers explode! You'd-- Her mental voice dissolved into horrified images of Solomon and Bakura being birthed from the fragmented eggshell-like remains of their mothers (thankfully bloodlessly). Solomon put his forehead against her shell and laughed, and laughed.

It's not funny! Marcelon complained, flipping water up at him in a wave of spray.

[denyamenti]

Tell us that's not true! Emily-Helen wailed and through her, Bakura was treated to the same mental image as the poor turtles were trying to reconcile the idea with terrible, awful visuals while Solomon was having a fit of hysterics. Bakura himself was hardly immune and having a good laugh at the hatchlings' expense, hoisting himself out of the water to lay across the back of Emily-Helen's shell.

"Humans are born much smaller than turtles," he finally offers between snickers. "Small enough that they cannot move around by themselves or talk at first. So they're still small enough to come out of their mothers without hurting them, but they need much more attention and care right away than turtles do."

That was probably as PG a version as one was ever going to get from the thief.

[peacefullywreathed]

How small? Marcelon demanded. Solomon caught his breath and turned so he could lean comfortably in the space behind the turtle's flipper, resting on arm on that and one on the edge of her shell, and letting his feet drift. His black eyes were still laughing, and he didn't even bother to try and erase the grin.

He had needed that.

"About a foot long, more or less--twelve or so inches," he said. "There is a very specific organ in a woman's body, called the womb--analogous to where the eggs in a female turtle grows, I suppose you could say. It's very flexible, so when the baby grows inside her she grows large around the stomach without being harmed by the baby's presence."

He declined to mention the part about morning-sickness and the numerous physiological pains which tended to come with pregnancy, because Marcelon was considering his words seriously and calming down somewhat.

I suppose, she said dubiously. But it doesn't sound very comfortable, OR very practical. And how does the baby get OUT, if it doesn't hatch from the mother's belly?

[denyamenti]

"The mother's body pushes it out when it's ready," Bakura replied, absently wringing his hair and the cuffs of his pants out while sending a mental image along the link with Emily-Helen of a woman in labour. It wasn't explicitly graphic but it also didn't leave many questions where the infant was exiting.

Clearly Bakura thought that metaphors weren't necessary if the hatchlings were asking these sorts of questions and since they grasped pretty much everything else they were told with extraordinary intelligence, he didn't figure there was any point in obscuring the facts for their sensibilities.

[peacefullywreathed]

From where? Marcelon asked in confusion, having not received the same mental image Emily-Helen had.

"From a place between her legs," Solomon said in a tone of utmost resignation. "There's a ... biological conduit leading up to the womb through which the baby can be pushed out. No, it isn't pleasant, for either of them."

Marcy huffed at having her statement answered before she could even make it, and instead asked the other pressing question on her mind. Her head craned over him, casting a shadow over his face and dripping water in his eyes. How does the baby GET there, then?

"If this is the sort of thing they're going to come up with when they're together, I think we're going to have to rethink their playdates," Solomon said to Bakura. He, also, had never seen much use for metaphors; neither his father nor Mistress Crow had bothered about them for him. But it was still a little difficult to explain human biological processes to turtles, particularly when he didn't know enough about turtle physiology to draw parallels.

[denyamenti]

"I'm certainly not the one who got them onto this topic," Bakura replied smartly.

"Though they learn fast enough, we could always find a nice looking kedan woman who is willing to help demonstrate for them. Then again, they do shapeshift so if you have a preference for what yours looks like," he trailed off, grinning at Solomon.

[peacefullywreathed]

"You're the one who was offering to give me a personal mermaid," Solomon pointed out innocently. "Though I have to admit, I prefer a woman with a talent at knots over one with fins, thank you very much."

Why? What does that have to do with anything? Marcelon demanded, and Solomon laughed again.

"Never mind," he said. "The baby, as I said, is grown from an extremely small egg inside the mother, but before it can grow it needs a physical contribution from the father--as would be the case for your parents, too. That contribution takes of the form of a liquid offered when a man and a woman are together in an intimate fashion."

Like what? Marcelon asked, back to sounding vaguely confused, but still interested.

[denyamenti]

"Knots," Bakura repeated with an approving laugh. "Then I may have misjudged you and your tastes, and I'll own to that."

Then to Marcelon's question, even he was a little stumped as to how to portray that information without an unnecessarily crude visual, to which even Bakura drew the line since the turtles were, by technicality, still children. Also like Solomon, he wasn't 100% up on his chelonian biology and was worried that, as the hatchlings were won't to try things before thinking them through (see: eating blankets) he didn't want to be responsible for them trying to mate each other in the streets or some other spectacle.

"Something their bodies tell them to do," he said finally. "Like how yours will tell you when it's time to eat, or sleep."

[peacefullywreathed]

"Underground temples get very cold at night, Bakura," Solomon answered without trying to hide his amusement. "And during the day, come to that."

What does that have to do with making babies? You're not being very clear! Huffily Marcelon moved her flipper so that Solomon went dunking into the water, but he surfaced a moment later with a splutter and a short laugh, and heaved himself up onto her back.

"It's to do with the biological processes," he assured her, pushing his hair back from his face. "It starts to happen with every flesh-and-blood being at certain physiological stages in their development."

Come to think of it, the turtles weren't quite children anymore, were they? Solomon didn't know much about giant turtles, but if they aged mentally in a similar way to humans, they might well reach puberty in a similar fashion. In which case, they may not be far off.

... That was going to be fun.

What biological processes? Marcy demanded, slapping the water with her flippers.

[denyamenti]

"Now you've got them started on that path," the thief smirked, reclining to supine on Emily-Helen's back. "No more going under," he said to his hatchling, as if fully intending to sleep right there on the back of her shell like a living sun-warmed rock.

[peacefullywreathed]

"Thank you ever so," Solomon muttered. "See if I give you any karkady." He looked at the two eager heads looking at him and sighed. If the turtles were going to reach puberty soon, he may as well explain to them how sex worked. At least then they'd understand the urges.

"I would like to make it clear that this will not work in quite the same way for you," he warned. "You're turtles. On the most basic level, what you feel will be similar--but the mechanics will be different, and I've no knowledge of turtle physiology. I can't give you details on how things will be for you."

I'm sure I could figure it out, said Marcelon archly, and Solomon laughed.

"If you insist." He reached down and touched the water, and their shadows on the bottom flowed up and into his hand. With movements made careful due to disuse he sculpted the figure of a human woman, large enough for the turtles to see specific details. She had no features and her flesh was semi-transparent, but her reproductive system was black-on-black and easily seen through the surface shadow.

Ooooooooooh. Marcelon leaned in close to see in the way of a fascinated child.

"For human women, the main biological process is her body preparing to house a child," he explained patiently. "It's a process which typically begins between the ages of ten and fifteen." Solomon pointed at the figure, at particular parts of the figure, as he spoke. "Her eggs are housed here, but every month they change positions in her body to the womb here. In that time, her womb builds itself up inside so it can support a baby much in the same way your eggs did for you. If the egg isn't fertilised, the womb sheds its lining and the process begins next month."

Sheds? Marcelon asked, tilting her head back and forth in confusion. Our eggs don't do that.

"A woman's womb does," said Solomon, and continued on before Marcelon could ask why. "If the egg is fertilised, the baby grows inside the womb, like so." Solomon spread his fingers and the darkness grew, expanding the figure's belly. "The womb protects and nourishes the baby, just as your eggs did for you. In nine or ten months, when the baby is prepared, it is pushed out through this canal." He pointed.

It is very small, Marcelon said doubtfully, and Solomon smiled.

"It stretches," he assured her.