Free Death by Ploot Ploot by Dara Joy

Aviaran male, the woman could choose
when to conceive. In her case, it only took her imagining Lorgin’s
daughter and– Bam! Nine months later, Melody.
    “It is too soon,” she
wailed. “Oh crappers, now I can't even think of it or else . . . Argh! "
She kicked his shin. He did not even blink.
    "I vow, Adeeann,
you are the only woman in all of Aviara who has such difficulties. Not being
able to control your own thoughts . . . " He shook his head mockingly.
"Tsk, tsk tsk."
    "I
reiterate; you are a rat."
    He nuzzled her chin with
his nose. "Can I help it if just the idea of my child puts you into
such a muddled state that you so desire to
think of it . . . "
    "Rat.
Rat. Rat."
    "He
would be perfect . . . "
    "Stop it!"
    "With
your eyes, I think . . . "
    "I
don't hear you." She covered her ears.
    "My color
hair."
    "La,
la, la, la."
    “It is rare to augment a
Transference. When it happens, the babe always receives something exceptional.
At the very least, his capacity for power, his potential will be increased. It
is up to destiny."
    "Stop saying
he!" She swished her hands in front of her eyes, presumably to stop
herself from 'picturing' said 'he'.
    Lorgin shrugged. He had
plenty of time to work on her. And every day he intended to paint a clearer
picture for her.
    What made him most
irritated, however, was that Rejar had been right. She was not pleased with
him.
    But she would be. He was
sure of it.
    In time.
    Maybe
a couple of years.
    Years later, when
Lorgin's son finally came along, the Charl knight received his comeuppance for
being a bit too clever with his constant campaign.
    Deana couldn't help but
giggle when he held his son up for the first time.
    By whatever fates
decreed it, the babe did have his shape and
color eyes as he had once suggested. Except that–
    The
child looked remarkably like someone else.
    Grinning broadly, Lorgin
proudly held his newborn son up to his face. His smile slowly died.
    Except for the eyes–
which were clearly his– the dark-haired
babe resembled Rejar ! It was uncanny!
    Lorgin fumed. Of all
people to look like! His brother.
    "Why does he look
like you, Rejar?" he gritted out.
    The entire family
laughed their heads off.
    The
babe's facial features and dark hair mirrored Rejar's to a tee. Of
course, Rejar's features where much like Krue's, a fact that Lorgin overlooked.
    The infant had stared
his father straight in the eye, returning his amethyst gaze. Giving Lorgin a foolish
little grin, he proceeded to shower him with a yellow stream.
    It
was a portent of things to come for the hapless father.
    Unlike his sweet,
mindful daughter, this babe would never give his father a moment of peace. The
beautiful child was a handful from the minute he drew breath. The precocious,
mischievous boy would test Lorgin constantly and run him almost ragged until he
reached adulthood.
    To
Krue's great amusement.
    But it was Yaniff that
had the last laugh.
    No matter how hard he
tried, Lorgin could never pinpoint the Lodarres in his father's line that had black hair.
    Or such an impossible
temperament in his youth.