“I need a nice museum photo, sweetie-kins” said Vega.
Unfortunately, Eva butted in with something a little more dire. Even though Shamus had a job of cleaning up in the maternity ward, he didn’t tell her what to expect.
Everyone lost count of the time that passed, but after some time, Eva had a little girl named Sheila.
Since Vega’s young adult portrait was done, Eva had plenty of time with spend with Sheila. The more she thought about, the more she wondered if this would happen without the weird life of a dynasty painter binding her.
Soon, Vega called Eva to the studio and thrust a chisel into her hand. Someone had to take over for Harwood once he passed on, and there was nothing wrong with a head-start.
As for Harwood, with ice sculpting mastered, he was free to have a true retirement. He gravitated towards Sheila and took up most of the care. Most of all, he wondered if it was too late for him to have a family of his own.
Unfortunately, his true retirement was punctuated by the constant feeling of broken glass in his shoes. “Number 50. Ugh, finally,” said Vega under her breath.
“So it’s done?”
“Sure, if you want.” Once Vega left the room she muttered, “Ungrateful loser. He should be thankful they were gosh darn Vials of Bliss.”
With Eva’s nooboo welcomed into the world and most alchemic mastery done and sealed, Vega bit her nails and waited on a pregnancy test with almost-dangerous anticipation. How could she be going so nooboo-crazy so early in her life? Perhaps it was a bad idea to surround herself with the families of others so quickly; clearly, it was rubbing off on her. And her worry seemed so out of place with Harwood cheerfully strutting through the door.
Vega returned to the bathroom. The results were positive.
Some new maternity clothes later, Vega got down to her main duty: following an old wives’ tale on making perfect little boys.