That moment where one goes to soothe a fussy baby and finds a surprise handful of bare bottom. -- Someone's Mum
[AN: Worse is a handful of messy bottom. Been there, done that, had to disinfect all on sundry for an entire hour]
Long before Wraithvine met Thief, later renamed as Chrysanthemum and Anthe for short, Wraithvine stole a baby. Technically. It's not theft if the article in question has already been thrown away.
The child in question was a paradox in evidence. New to the world, perhaps a handful of days old. Apparently originally wrapped in a quilt just big enough to hold an infant. Yet also lying on the town midden like refuse. They were pearl-white in skin, dark of hair, very upset, and quite clearly a Tiefling.
The tail's always a dead give-away. It lashed back and forth as the baby wailed and, since no-one else was coming to this particular town's midden, Wraithvine braved other people's mess to pick the child up.
"There now," they cooed. "There now. It's going to get better, little one. Blood red eyes, little stubs of horn not yet broken through their skin. Tail. Hooves. It didn't matter to Wraithvine. A baby was a baby, and you picked up a crying baby. Held it close. Did what you could to ease its infant woes. Thus, in short order, Wraithvine discovered that this particular Tiefling infant (a) had soiled itself, (b) very messily, and (c) was a girl.
There are worse ways to greet someone than with a fresh handful of shit, but right then Wraithvine couldn't name them. "Well, little pearl. You and I have a date with the hot springs, don't we? Then, I guess, I should find a nanny-goat." They picked up the quilt, and the cloth that had clearly been soiled during her abandonment, and made all due speed to fix multiple ills.
Warm water solved many problems, starting with how to contain the next mess. Prestidigitation could solve a lot of problems, especially with messy small beings very new to life. Other problems, however, could only be solved by a direct meteor strike.
Tieflings never had a very easy life. They didn't even get a moderately easy one. Everywhere this little pearl went, she would face prejudice, fear, and even hatred, just for continuing to breathe. Some would argue that it would have been a mercy to smother the poor little lady. Wraithvine would counter that their face would look better without a nose, and produce the knife with which to aid them.
It was the beginning of Wraithvine's lifelong habit of picking up the kind of people that others rejected, and making them better.
This one, they named Nique, for the snowy hue of her skin[1]. Wraithvine wore her close, so she could hear their heart and feel safe, and while she could only drink, they towed the nanny-goat with them on their travels.
Nique learned snappy comebacks to silly statements before she properly learned to talk. No matter how old she became with Wraithvine, she always let her Rennie answer one question, simply because the answer amused her.
"Oh! Is the Tiefling yours?" they would ask.
Without skipping a beat, Wraithvine would answer, "Of course she is, I stole her myself."
Of course she became an adventurer. There was no alternative. Staying with Rennie Wraithvine was the only thing that fit, for the longest time.
Then she met someone else to belong to. She was a Human named Bull, and looked like she'd lost a fight with several hedges and a wildcat. She was all over scars and head over heels for Nique, and that was the bit that mattered. Bull belonged to Nique, and Nique belonged to Bull. They made a wonderful team.
When they eventually settled and retired from Adventuring, that little town would have no infants, Tiefling or otherwise, left alone like garbage.
[1] The Elven spelling has an umlaut over the final E. This author has more than enough troubles without messing around with that.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / maxcab]
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