Garrick chooses a name
16th May 1103
“A girl,” Garrick murmured reverently, gently cradling the newborn Lisbet had placed in his arms.
Cindra did not reply, did not even glance up at the baby. Lisbet didn’t like it. Of course Cindra was exhausted from the birth, but she was a strong girl and it had been nothing like this with Atholt. From the first moment she had been unable to take her eyes off the boy and had cried big, silent tears when they took him away to be washed. Now she lay back on the bed, apparently uninterested in the tiny baby lying quietly in her father’s arms. Lisbet didn’t like it at all.
“A girl,” he whispered again, hoisting the soft bundle up onto his shoulder with a father’s grin.
She glanced at Cindra again, her hands lying listless on her belly, her cheeks still flushed from the exertion of birthing. Something felt wrong. The whole thing just felt wrong. She knew Hepsie felt it too. The baby had slid silently from Cindra’s womb, never making a sound, not a single cry though they tickled her feet and poked at her to try and make her. Hepsie had finally declared her healthy, despite her odd silence and all the while the baby had stared up at them with a strange intensity in her wide, green eyes.
But Garrick seemed not to notice and was gazing down at the baby with a father’s adoration.
“Why, isn’t she the most beautiful thing you ever did see,” he exclaimed, holding the baby up so that he could peer at her, his big, bristly, red face close to her small, pink, wrinkly one.
“She looks just like her,” he sighed sadly.
The baby was staring up at her father with that same intense look, her green eyes barely blinking. Covering her head was a soft red fuzz, not unlike the stubble that grew untended on her father’s neck. Lisbet didn’t agree… the baby barely resembled Cindra at all, perhaps she had her mother’s chubby cheeks. But she was the very image of her father.
Lisbet awkwardly maneuvered her swollen body onto the bed, perching on the edge. She gave her friend a gentle pat on the leg.
“Are you alright honey?”
Cindra blinked as though coming out of a daze.
“Lisbet,” she whispered, her voiced wavering, “could you please have Atholt brought here.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep now sweetpea? You must be exhausted.”
“No,” Cindra mumbled, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, her lower lip trembling, “I want Atholt.”
Lisbet glanced up at Garrick, but he seemed entirely unaware of his wife’s distress, cooing at the swaddled bundle in his arms.
“Igrayne dear, could you please go and get the Baroness’ son for her. Don’t mind if he’s asleep. Just bring him please.”
“Of course your ladyship,” Igrayne replied scurrying off to the adjoining nursery.
Cindra was scrambling towards the bedside, wincing in pain as she swung her legs over the edge.
“Are you certain that’s a good idea,” Lisbet said softly, looking to Hepsie for assistance.
“I’m fine,” Cindra muttered.
“Yew just take it easy now Yer Grace. Yew’ve just popped out a baby and it certainly isn’t being the easiest thing in the world to do,” Hepsie chided, “Yew can get up if yew want but just take it easy, alright love.”
Cindra didn’t seem to hear her as she launched herself from the side of the bed, propelling herself towards the door where Igrayne was standing cradling her curly-haired son.
Where Cindra’s face had been dull and lifeless before, now it was all sparkles and rosy-cheeked joy.
“Atholt!” she squealed, gathering the sleepy boy into her arms, “There’s my darling boy.”
Garrick did not even seem to have noticed the entrance of his son.
He was reverently kissing the top of his daughter’s head, his lips brushing against the red fuzz on the crown of her skull.
“So much like her,” he whispered again, clutching the infant tightly to him.
“Cindra love,” he called out to his wife, “can we name her Isabelle?”
…and there it is
I’m surprised Garrick wanted to name the baby for his sister, even if she is Isabelle’s spitting image. You’d think that whole ordeal might have been enough to sway him away from any such ideas.
I hope Cindra can learn to love her daughter, though, whatever her name may be.
In a lot of ways Garrick doesn’t really understand what went on with Isabelle. Cindra was much more aware of her actual intent, while Garrick wanted to avoid his bad dreams because of the guilt and distress he felt. Even when she started hurting him he was sort of in denial. In the final dream, Isabelle reaches out her hand, Garrick was barely aware of what was happening, while Cindra still had her wits about her. Despite everything that happened (which he still does not understand and is rather in denial about… he and Cindra haven’t really talked about it) Garrick still loved his sister and so it is not that strange that he would want to name his daughter after her. He a little bit transfixed by this baby too and how much she resembles his sister.
Oh, Garrick, REALLY? Do you really think that’s a good idea? I know there were no horror movies in medieval times, but Christ. You’re already on a creepy-ass island being haunted by your dead twin sister and now you name your bizarrely lookalike daughter after her? It’s like he’s ASKING for a haunting. Geez.
Poor Cindra.
I think the problem with people in horror movies is that they have NEVER SEEN A HORROR MOVIE. They always do the dumb stuff.
Garrick is being a bit weird here. We will see more of it later.
Cindra is not happy.
Wow Garrick you really don’t lack sense. I hope Cindra will love her baby as well. This is sad.
I know Devin. It felt kind of sad having Cindra react like this, when she obviously dotes on Atholt so much.
Hey Verity, do you by any chance remember where you got Cindra’s nightgown? If you don’t, that’s okay
I looked around everywhere for it Van, but I have a feeling the site it was on has gone down. I think it might have been on Sims 2 fashion. Maybe somebody else (I know Lothere has it too) remembers a bit better. Sorry