“Now that the two of you have had fun at my expense,” the man said, still pretending to be hurt. “shall I teach you that song now, Clarine?”
“What song, what song?” Anya chimed in, still in her mother’s arms.
It’s better than being held by a meanie papa! she had said, sticking out her tongue at him.
“It’s your Papa’s precious song,” Clarine gently explained. For someone who had been so shocked at the prospect only mere minutes before, she was already nursing her motherly instincts.
“Would you like to learn it too, Anya?” he asked her cheerfully. She put her hand to her head and leaned on it as she thought about it. “Neh, Mama, Papa,” she said at last, “What’s a ‘song’?” she said with a blank look.
The man and Clarine both exchanged curious looks above their daughter’s head. …Is she serious? They both seemed to think at the same time.
“A song is…” the man began, trailing off. He wasn’t sure how to explain what a “song” was, or really what one meant. “Well, perhaps it’s just best for you to hear one for yourself.” He said after a minute. “Clarine,” he said, looking to his wife. “Do you mind translating as I go?” She nodded her head in agreement.
“Alright, Anya! Are you ready to hear my song?” he asked her. She nodded her head hesitantly.
“A little fairy comes at night,” he began, in English, with Clarine quickly translating into Common behind him.
“Her eyes are blue,
her hair is brown,
with silver spots upon her wings,
and from the moon she flutters down.
She has a little silver wand,
and when a good child goes to bed,
she waves her hand from right to left,
and makes a circle round its head.”
And then it dreams of pleasant things,
of fountains filled with fairy fish,
and trees that bear delicious fruit,
and bow their branches at a wish.”
“Well, what do you think?” he asked little Anya after Clarine finished translating the last line for her.
“Hnn…” she said, her eyes staring off into the distance. “Papa sounded funny, and I couldn’t understand him.” She mumbled after a moment. “But, he sounded really, really happy.” She added with a little smile, “Mama’s voice sounded really pretty, too!” Clarine smiled at her daughter’s praise and rubbed Anya’s head affectionately, who rubbed her head against her hand in response.
“Your papa was speaking his own language,” Clarine began to explain, telling Anya the same story the man had told Clarine and Rana just that very morning. Anya’s eyes shone brightly as she listened to the story, and he could see her petals slightly shifting about.
“Neh neh,” she said childishly, once Clarine finished her story, “does that mean Papa’s an alien!?” She looked expectantly at him, as if expecting him to start growing tentacles or some other odd feature. “You said he came from another world, Mama, but he looks like any other human.”
The man laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess you could say I am an alien.” He patted himself down, as he spoke, then held his arms spread out. “But as you can see, this is all there is to me.” He smiled at his daughter. “I’m just an ordinary, boring human being.”
“Eeeeh…” she said, obviously disappointed. She had half expected him start sprouting odd looking body parts. “Then, can you teach me your alien language?” she asked hopefully.
“Well…” he said, pretending to consider it. He had already decided to if she asked him, long ago. “I’ve already taught your mother here, so I don’t see why not.” He grinned.
She seemed to bounce up and down at the prospect. “Yay! Papa’s gonna teach me how to talk like an alien!” she cried wildly, swinging her arms about. Clarine set her down, and she waltzed around slowly in a small circle, waving her arms and saying things like “My Pa~pa’s an alien~, my Ma~ma’s a Mamono~”.
Clarine glanced at her amused husband, and smiled. “What an excitable little daughter you’ve brought home, Pa-pa~” She put some emphasis on the word “papa”, teasing him.
“Think we’ll be able to keep up with her, Mama~?” he teased back, falling into her rhythm. “She has so much energy, I don’t think she’ll ever get tired.” He sidled over to Clarine, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Anya was still circling about, chanting “A-li-en, A-li-en!” excitedly. Clarine looked at her husband with a coy expression. “Perhaps we should find Anya a playmate?” she said quietly, as her hand found one of his own and squeezed lightly.
“That sounds like a good idea,” the man replied, alternating his gaze between his daughter and his wife. “But where we going to find any? Are there even any other Mamono children in the forest?” he asked of her uncertainly.
“Well…” Clarine replied, her face growing red. “if there aren’t any children around for her to play with…” Her other hand trailed along the grass, absentmindedly, trailing against the tips of her fingers. She leaned in closer, whispering into his ear, “…perhaps we should make one?” she said seductively. Although she was the one to say it, she felt her face grow considerably warmer, feeling almost as if it were on fire.
The man swallowed audibly. The feeling of her breath on his ear, along with his wife’s suggestion, caused a tingling sensation to run down his spine. The pleasant image of laying together with his wife and releasing his seed deep into her waiting womb, impregnating her, dominated his mind.
“I think Anya would love to have a little sister…” she continued to whisper in his ear, bringing her hand and rubbing it along his thigh sensually. “And think how happy that would make me, your wife…” The man felt himself shiver in pleasure as she whispered to him. “…filling me up with your, warm, sticky seed, and making my belly swell up with a healthy baby girl…” she continued, pausing to let the image sink firmly into his mind. “…it would make me very happy, you know?” The man was like soft putty in his wife’s hands. “To be taken by my husband on our wedding night, and impregnated…” she squeezed his thigh with her hand. “…Anya won’t be getting any younger, so better to start trying sooner than later, right?” She gave him a small smile, in order to seal the deal. “I might not get pregnant on the first try, so you might have to fill me up with your warm seed, every….single…night…” She kissed him on the cheek, taking her sweet time pulling away. “What do you say, Papa~?”
“Tonight, when Anya’s asleep.” His reply was immediate, with no trace of hesitation or forethought whatsoever. In that very moment, he would have been willing to agree to anything she had asked him to do, his desire to please his wife was so great.
Clarine smiled widely, knowing it. “Tonight, then.” she whispered into his ear one more time. He could feel her soft hand leave his thigh as she stood up, walking over to Anya. “Anya dear, to you want to play with your Mama?” she said cheerily to her daughter.
The man fell back onto the grass, exhaling a long and deep sigh. A mother’s instinct… he thought wearily …is far scarier than any Dryad or Goblin…
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