Ziva observed her fur babies, Asher, the most playful spent his day racing through the house. He had an abundance of energy, greater than the other two combined, happiest when jumping, pouncing, and attacking his squeaky catnip toy. Patches remained aloof, she asserted her importance at every opportunity making it clear, the bed when Ziva slept was her domain. While she enjoyed chasing the noisy seagulls, Patches was lazy, stretching in sunbeams, moving when they ceased to warm her plump belly. The cats hissed at each other, a half-hearted game of pattycake had Patches yawning. Fiona was the one aspect of the home that brought everything together, both cats loved her, Asher had a playmate and Patches thought the dog was a good pet.
The gentle routes, green paths leading to the rock pools, were ideal for jogging with short legs, and Ziva, keen to get back to her keep-fit regime enjoyed the company. Fiona trotted with enthusiasm, her excitement hyped by Ziva’s voice and stories of fish. Fiona’s reward, paddling, at low tide she could enjoy biting at the water, failing to catch fish, her nose snorting water as she hunted for small crabs. Ziva carried the exhausted pup home, cradled like a baby, her top wet through.
The Ancient Ruin, Windenberg, simmered in the sun, perfect for a picnic with her brother and nephew, however, she understood this was free childcare. Rylan and Patrick sat, a fallen ruin their perch, Patrick ran, arms wide, cuddles a requirement throughout. He looked for Fiona who remained home, basking in the sun, laid on her back, tongue hanging. Disappointed he babbled incoherently, Ziva noted her exhausted brother, smirking how he would be changing diapers for the third time. Emilie found herself restless, unable to sleep, Rylan, therefore, had to suffer. Distracted, Rylan managed hums and huh, sounds, Ziva knew if she told him an asteroid would obliterate them, he would still be checking his phone, waiting for the labour alert.
Ziva wrestled Patrick, tossing him in the air and spinning, he giggled, demanding they go faster. He was getting big and with this energetic activity Ziva felt her joints creak, she needed to distract him. After a short stroll, she found a hollowed log, Patrick squatted peering, suppressing his glee at the heart frog croaking, Ziva blocked an end, reached in and handed the slimy creature to her nephew. Gentle he stroked the back, screwing his nose, uncertain of its icky exterior, Rylan gave a firm “No” and Patrick pouted watching the would-be pet hop to another hiding place. Rylan held his head, aching, his phone battery died, Ziva handed the sleepy Patrick to him, hoping this exhausted boy lessened the worry.
Ziva stepped through the door, shaking, the rain decided to hammer her walk back from the train station. Her phone buzzed, ringing off and calling back, an excited Eliza screamed, “The Baby’s Coming!”. It seemed, Emilie went into labour during dinner, and their new baby, eager to start its life chose the house as her birthing location. A beautiful daughter by the name of Charlotte had joined their family. Rylan caught Ziva up on the details, but it was clear mum, and her determined baby were healthy and sleepy.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 