Hideaway Strath the teeth of the eye of a storm

Dagfinn stiffened at the sound of Lotte's voice, having been too focused on the fragility of his nephew to have taken notice of her stirring. Part of him wanted to leap away from the tiny pup and deny any contact with it, but the thing seemed to breakable to simply fling away from himself. Dagfinn contented himself with glaring uncomfortably back at his sister.

"Ota se pois," he snipped, lifting his chin away from the child in aversion that was only part-way feigned. He didn't want to be seen showing tenderness to these little banes, though he could not exactly say why - and to rid himself of the child with the proper care would require a great deal of tenderness. Best leave it to Lotte.

Dagfinn hmm'd along to Lotte's questioning and sat stoically when she set her teeth against his paw. He was happy for his sister, and already, he felt a great well of love toward her offspring - but that was not a fact he wanted widely known. Perhaps, not even to Lotte. That she'd borne witness to the impromptu bath was bad enough.

And then, sweet Eirlys came wriggling toward him, almost as if she knew that she was destined to be his favorite. Dagfinn resisted her, of course, and moved himself away by fractions as she drew near. He was still sore that she was Dagny and not Dagfinn, and that she was a girl insulted the dark youth beyond measure.

But she was adorable, and she was partly Lotte, and she had been made his by Lotte's christening, whether she'd meant to do so or not.

Delicately, Dagfinn dipped his nose to snuff over the pale little girl. A loud sneeze escaped him and spattered her pelt with little droplets of mucous and saliva.

"She stinks," he pronounced with faux indifference.