ciɳɗy (ciɳɗɛʀɛʆʆɑ) ѵɑkɑʀiɑɳ (silvershoes) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-08-09 18:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, cindy cendrillon (cinderella), michonne |
Who: Cindy & Michonne
What: Returning after a shopping-and-katana adventure
When: Late July, beginning of August-ish
Where: Michonne's place
Rating/Warnings: Mostly low; talk of Michonne's son and grief
Status: Complete
Cindy had been right. Cute maternity wear was decidedly elusive. Which didn’t make much sense considering most women would at some point require it, but then it wasn’t like logic worked much when it came to consumerism. Michonne counted it as a victory that she had only bought two items herself, because this was not a shopping trip to get Michonne more skinny jeans she didn’t need or another pair of boot she most certainly could do without. Aside from the fact that she was mentally cataloguing cute and adorable things for twins, Michonne was grateful for a basically normal day out. Spending as much time as possible working didn’t really help escape the constant dreams, or the unfolding bleakness there. The katana wasn’t an unwelcome appearance from the dreams, just a rather startling reminder of the violence there in. “Make yourself at home,” the small rented condo was welcoming; it was open and bright, fairly basic in ways of decoration, it was inviting. It was also all like that when Michonne started renting it. Because she’d rather pay the extra for a furnished home than have to decorate herself. “Do you want something to drink?” A day of katanas and shopping for maternity clothes - really, only in Orange County. And Cindy did, surprisingly, need the clothes - because at about thirteen weeks along, she really did look pregnant. Some mothers probably wouldn’t show as much, but given the whole twins aspect? And that she was a small person to begin with, so every extra bit was reeeeeeally noticeable? Well. Clothes and shopping would be challenges from here on out. Ones she welcomed, however. This was a good change in her life. She’d found some new jeans, and shirts that didn’t look like muu muu's, plus some shoes that were fashionable and not boring old house slippers. Fatigue and nausea had been getting her lately, the tiredness especially - so by the time they got back to Michonne’s? Let’s just say she was ready for a rest. “I’d love one,” she smiled, sitting down on the sofa and taking off her new sandals - the old ones had been feeling kind of tight, so she’d purchased a new pair today that she had to break in. “Water or juice, whatever you have. Thanks again for braving the maternity aisle with me, by the way.” Casual daily activities, things that were normal, Michonne was still finding a balance there. Between work and the abnormality of these dreams and maintaining something that resembled a life that anyone could live. And shopping was fairly normal, it had been fun, just an average day out. “How about orange juice? You okay with that?” Michonne remembered pregnancy, remembered the good days and bad days and how every day was worth it for what was to follow, the swollen ankles and the heart burn and the bladder constantly needing emptied, all of it was just a step towards the joys of motherhood that was pending. She could imagine that Cindy was taking everything in stride, even the battle to find things that didn’t drown your entire figure. “And it’s not a problem, I had a good time.” Grabbing things from the kitchen, Michonne wasn’t really surprised to say she was honestly having a nice day, even with the maternity aisle and the horrors that lived there. “Orange juice is perfect.” Cindy had been craving a lot of fruits and veggies anyway - so she might as well get in her daily dose of Vitamin C. That, and the soup - there was this little Vietnamese place near her house that did have the best pho, made with vegetable stock instead of the usual beef or chicken. She’d been slurping up an embarrassing amount of noodles lately, though she was just waiting for the day when a steak actually sounded good to her. Or even southern barbecue. She really was taking most of this in stride, though. Wanting to stay focused and fit throughout her pregnancy - she went for walks in the morning, and headed to the pool on weekends. Her and Garrus didn’t have one in their backyard but the neighborhood aquatic center wasn’t far off. Lord knows she would gain enough weight during this pregnancy so it made sense to her to try to stay as healthy as possible. She was used to hitting the gym on the regular anyway, because being a fat FBI agent out in the field wasn’t really a thing. “I had a good time too, and the exercise doesn’t hurt,” she grinned. “I’ve been thinking of doing some pre-natal yoga also. Maybe just in the park, I don’t know.” If it would help make labor easier? She was all for it. Michonne liked to keep fresh fruit juice around, it helped to stop her from getting dependent on coffee for her alertness, her sleep schedules were already completed off the track, she didn’t need to further complicate matters by throwing in caffeine and making it worse. Two glasses of orange juice and Michonne was smirking on her way back to Cindy. “I’m not sure if I’d consider the constant walk around department stores to be exercise, but at least your feet are moving.” Although she did think it was smart for Cindy to keep as active as she could, especially with twins. “Yoga would probably be good, yeah, keep you fairly flexible and in shape. Supposedly it’s easier to keep active all through pregnancy with activities like swimming and yoga.” Sometimes work was not an option for certain pregnant women, and Michonne would guess that the amount of field work a pregnant FBI agent would be involved in would be a little limited throughout. “There’s probably plenty of areas in the park to get your stretching on. It seems like the hip place to be doing yoga.” And in California yoga was the staple of a morning work out. She took the glass with a thank you, sipping from it and enjoying how fresh and (best of all) cold it was. Summer, ugh. Cindy was barely into her second trimester and the heat just felt unbearable to her - she had no idea how pregnant women about to pop handled the oppressive, stifling warmth during these godawful months. “I don’t suppose you’d be into yoga too?” she asked hopefully. It was always nicer to have a buddy for this sort of thing. “Maybe it’d be even be good - nice stress relief from your zombie dreams that, frankly, sound like a hell of a lot.” She still didn’t trust the OC to not go for a zombie outbreak. Honestly, that would be just like the place. Then the Agency would have to write it off as a rehearsal for a new Thriller music video or something ridiculous. Stress relief from zombies so far had been work, but Michonne was running on empty and she knew it. If she kept that up she’d make a stupid mistake and only make things worse. Something different had to happen, before some idiot got the jump on her and wound up in hospital. “I could be into yoga,” normal, healthy activities, things to keep focused and in shape. Michonne could do with a little centering here and there too. “Especially if I plan to start swinging a sword around.” Which honestly wasn’t completely off the cards, considering what people had said about this place, Michonne thought something she didn’t need to get ammunition for constantly would be a good idea. She could work on her center of balance, posture and inner strength before pushing herself into mastering something as complex as sword wielding. “Oh, yeah, totally,” Cindy chuckled in agreement, sipping her juice. Damn, it was nice to just sit. And relax. And feel the air conditioner on her face. Too much dried the skin out but during these times where the air resembled magma it was a case of ‘what nourishes me also kills me’ or however that saying went. “That is one impressive katana you have. So you’re going to start with sword training? I’m sure there are plenty of teacher options around if you check the forum.” She remembered learning from Bluebeard, in a dream here and there. They were also romantically involved, but hey, who could resist a dirty pirate? Cindy definitely saw the appeal. “I really wish I could do that with you too, but I think I’ll stick to yoga. And just watch the swordfighting instead.” At least until she’d given birth and was back on the saddle again, kicking ass and taking names. It seemed like the best idea. She might know how to use the sword in the dreams, but she wasn’t exactly sure where that knowledge came from either. Maybe it was just a necessity, she had to survive and Michonne was a survivor. “I think it’s the best place to start, lessons at least for a while, until I know better.” She didn’t really want to chop off her own arm by accident after all. “But the forum is likely a good place to ask, isn’t it.” Because there had to be someone else on that thing who knew a thing or two about sword play. “Yoga until you’ve popped, and the little ones aren’t at risk of bursting something.” There was such a thing as too much activity, but spectating for a while wouldn’t kill anyone after all. “With twins, I’m certain you’ll be getting plenty of exercise afterwards.” Just maybe not in the most traditional of ways. Sometimes Cindy still couldn’t believe she was actually pregnant with twins. She’d look in the mirror and just imagine herself the size of a house, having to be rolled and to and fro like Violet the blueberry from Willy Wonka. It wasn’t pretty. But hell, she’d faced worse in her life - she’d even died once. She could handle this. “Definitely. Running after two babies - I’m sure me and Garrus will have our work cut out for us,” she dramatically wiped her forehead, in a theatrical sort of way. Then she paused, sobering, as she attempted to figure out how to phrase this. “Is it...did you once have a child?” she asked then, cautiously, not wanting to breach any defenses. But she’d remembered hearing something about that, back when she first met Michonne and worked with her - Cindy broached the (admittedly sensitive) subject because she wanted to make sure she didn’t drive a friend insane with her pregnant self and being all about ‘baby.’ “I mean, we don’t have to talk about it, I just...I don’t want to act like a schmuck.” When they got to the toddling stage, yes. Michonne could picture it, if they were anything like their mother, it was easy to laugh at the image of blond little cherubs giving Cindy the run around. “Wait until they start crawling and climbing, turn your back for a second and they’re in a drawer or something.” The comedy value was through the roof honestly. The mention of Andre was still a little bit like picking at a scab. It’d become somewhat easier over time, not just as raw and open a wound, but still decidedly painful. “I did, yes. A son.” She knew that Cindy wouldn’t bring something up for the sake of it, and she could deal with it, she could be happy for friends who would be feeling the same joy that Andre brought to Michonne’s life. “It’s … It’s fine, really. It doesn’t hurt any less or any more when it’s other people.” Nothing would make it hurt more or less, because it just always hurt. “But it’s not something I can’t enjoy, you’re on this wondrous path, with these glorious little babies.” And Michonne couldn’t possibly take away from that at all. “I’m excited for you, please don’t feel you need to censor it around me.” “I can’t say I understand that type of pain exactly because I’ve never experienced it - “ And it would be disrespectful to act like she knew it all when Cindy had never lost a child, “But I understand that it’s just...always going to be there. And that makes sense,” she said, reaching over and putting her hand over Michonne’s forearm to add some fond pressure. But god, actually losing a child. Her heart broke over the thought of it. Wounds would close over time but sometimes they didn’t always heal - sometimes those defining moments in life simply couldn’t be forgotten or ‘gotten over.’ “I promise I won’t censor myself or treat you with kid gloves though,” she added. That would drive a strong, independent person like Michonne crazy, no doubt. “I just wanted to make sure I’m not an idiot. I’ll be glad to have you with me as I get fat and sleep-deprived,” the southern belle smiled crookedly. Sympathy was something that Michonne had learned to accept. She’d gradually learned that not all sympathy was pity and sometimes people just oozed with compassion for the grief that couldn’t really be worked through. Living through losing Andre once had been debilitating, the fact that she’d lost Mike at the same time had been a bittersweet pill to swallow. She’d gradually managed to let go of the blame there, stopped holding a dead man responsible for her son’s death. The repeat of similar but more harrowing circumstances playing out in the dreams had broken Michonne apart to the point where she had no other option but to piece herself together again and learn to move forward. “I appreciate that.” But life pushed on, and Michonne couldn’t stay in the past with the pain, as much as part of her died with Andre, she still had to live. And more and more, there were things worth living for. “You’re not, and I am truly so happy for you and Garrus, and I can’t wait to watch this all unfold.” There was always excitement in the progress of bringing life into the world. Steel magnolias, right? They were both from the south, both from Atlanta specifically - and if there was one thing Cindy’s stepmother taught her (and it hadn’t been much) it was that southern women were made of tough stuff. Steel magnolias. Beautiful, refined, but hardy and able to withstand even the toughest of blows. That was them. “I’ll probably be less excited about it unfolding when I’m ultra-bloated and can’t move, but for now?” Cindy teased. “Yeah, bring it on.” She was just glad that she had friends who were here with her - friends who had experienced pregnancy before, some who hadn’t and who just wanted to be happy with her and share in everything. Cindy would take it all, and she felt lucky to be able to do so. |