What?

Exhaling, her head tilted in the mirror. Staring back at her reflection she was trying not to notice the ginormous size she'd grown to. Baby bump to baby basketball and now, now she was pretty sure it was baby planet. She was half expecting small specs of dust to start using her as their own center of gravity. The good thing about the entire thing, though, was that she was still Elle.

Her chin tilted up, trying to look down over her stomach, attempting to write delicately by using the mirror, which was requiring a lot more concentration than she'd expected. Plus, she was kicking. Her little foot would press right where a letter was meant to go and the F would turn into a P rather quickly.

Elle's fingertip would rub against the letter, removing the eyeliner from her skin and getting small feet to stop pressing to her abdomen at the same time. If she could swat her foot away, she would, but instead she had to cope with just trying to will it to move, focus on wanting the baby to shift and maybe, if she hoped and prayed, she would.

Half-way through the word SPACE, Adam paused outside the door to the bathroom. She'd left it open, just in case her water broke way too early or -- well, any number of things. Elle caught his glance in the mirror and she paused her penmanship.

"Huh?"

His brow furrowed, "Love, what, may I ask, are you doing?"

( At the time she had started... )

[ooc: Adam is changehistory and is borrowed with love and returned sans shirt.]

Her father could've come up with at least a dozen ridiculous pet names for her. Just looking at her, as a child, she should've inspired three on the very brightness of her eyes and the way her cheeks came up when she grinned. The hyperactivity that kept her going from morning until noon until night, that, maybe, just once, might have given her a teasing nickname. One that would be remembered when she was older, when she was exhausted and her father could look across the room at her and remind her of when she used to be so active. The streak of blonde hair that would run past him in the halls and then back toward him again, that could've hinted at some small word that could've summed her up in an instant.

When her ability manifested, it would've been so simply to push something related to that onto her. She was only four, not too old for nicknames, not too young to not laugh when she heard it. The way the energy came to her fingertips, she could've been 'Firefly' or 'Lightning Bug', both of which were cute and small things. The way lightbulbs would pop if she touched them for too long or light-switches would trip a fuse; she could've been called Sparkles, Sparkler, or even Sparky (not that she'd have approved of the latter).

Instead, she was Elle. Never just Elle, either. There was an implied tone of tolerance, one that sounded near exhausted even if it was the first time she'd approached him. It was almost as if her ability had wrapped itself around her name, though, instead of providing energy to it, she drained it away from him.

Her own father. Looking at her with such high expectations and, seemingly, always disappointed.

She was never his Light or his Champ, never a Doll or Princess; she was Elle. Short for Eleanor, which was as close to a nickname as her father would ever come.

She always had to pee. Always might've been an overstatement, but in her mind it felt like a constant thing. The baby would shift, a foot pressed into her organs the right way and suddenly she had to pee again. Maybe it was her gallbladder or her bladder itself, but she had resigned herself to the front room by this point. The smaller bathroom was much closer to her if she stayed at the front room, than if she opted to hover in the kitchen.

According to the books, the baby was gaining a sense of balance. In Elle's mind, that meant she should realize that she's upside down and pressing her foot into the wrong place, but realizing it was the wrong place was probably out of the baby's area of expertise. If anything, the tiny, well not so tiny, thing inside of her was an expert on how to wake Elle up at the oddest hours of the day.

( On her way back from the bathroom... )

I'm convinced, pretty much whole-heartedly, that Fred has found love. He doesn't exactly come up to me and tell me this, because, well, he's a dog. That would be crazy. Instead I've come to the conclusion that my dog is in love because he always wants to go outside.

I took him to the vet today, thinking maybe he just was having 'problems' but everything checks out. Much to Fred's disapproval of an exam, he's fine. Healthy, happy, well-adjusted little dog. He just keeps barking to be let outside.

It's because he's looking for his lady dog. I know it. I mean, Fred's adorable, so naturally, what dog wouldn't want him to share a bowl of water with?

I'm just tired of going outside every time he thinks there's another dog outside. He's staring out the window, which I think is going to give him a complex. My little Fred will have anxiety waiting around for his girlfriend.


PS - How crazy is it that the first thing I update in this thing, in such a long time, isn't even about me, but my dog?