Larksong Grotto A cheap sunset on a television set can upset her, but he never could

How could they possibly be parents at this rate? She didn't want the child — the woman had said as much — and Reek, he was a mess. He was a broken and bloody physical manifestation of depression. As he began to plead with her, rocking back and forth, Tavi felt her own sadness. It had rooted inside of her as soon as they had coupled, she just hadn't been aware of it at the time. The children inside of her would be manifestations of it. It would be fitting, then. Like father like son, daughter, whatever.

With a sigh she pressed in to him, carefully squishing her healthy and rotund self against his quaking, spindly, withered self. Softly she tried to shush him, whispering a shhh, which transitioned in to a soft humming of a random tune —  she didn't recognize it, but didn't really think about it. Once Reek had quieted down (if he quieted down), she planted a few quick kisses to his face, and then burrowed her nose against him.

I know, I know — she sighed in to him, and after a brief pause, I'll stay as long as I have to, and then, maybe once the kids were born, or weaned, or maybe beyond that if something changed — though at this point she didn't think anything could get better, so thoroughly had she been convinced — and then we can talk about it. 

For now they both needed to rest.