Ontellonji couldn't be more proud. Here he was, the father of a whole litter of beautiful little kits, and two of them were even staying with him, to call him "daddy", pull on his ears, bicker with each other and him, learn whatever it was they wanted to learn, hopefully taking an interest in his interests, and all-around being his children.

At least the bickering hadn't started yet. But then again, the day was young, and so were they, having only just hatched, eaten, and now gotten clean. They'd been fussed over by Pebai, patted on the head and praised by Frux, undergone a curious inspection by Hambia, and even been given the ultimate compliment from Brio: "They're almost as cute as mine." It had been quite a morning. Or afternoon, as it was already heading towards sunset.

Now they sat, coiled up like snakes or like their mother, between his forepaws. Ramana and Corara, one gold and blue with pretty red-copper not-hair, the other silver with stripes and his own black not-hair. One sweet and smart, already trying out sounds, working them around her tongue to form words; the other formidable, strong, and tough, not saying much but taking in the surroundings with an alertness that belied how young she was, and probably how tired she had to be. It seemed like it should have been an exhausting day, for both of them.

And they were both so small!

Of course, they really only seemed small, because they were short and serpentine, like their mother. Standing up, the top of their heads only came up to his elbow, maybe a little higher; most of that was neck, for their shoulders, given their short legs, only came up to his wrist. But at the same time, he thought that, stretched out to their full length, they might be as long as one of his wing-tines.

But still. They seemed small. Onjellonji couldn't quite get over it.

But he didn't make the mistake of saying so again. When he'd mentioned how tiny and cute the girls were, including Corara in the description, she'd threatened to bite him if he called her "cute" again. He'd tried hard not to laugh at her, then, and told her it was true. Then she really had bitten him-- on the toe, since she really couldn't reach farther at the time-- and though her teeth were as small as the rest of her, they were still sharp. He'd stopped laughing, at that point. Corara had, he thought, probably as much pride as he and Shandura had, together, and neither of them would take kindly to being called "cute". Not in that fashion, anyway.

Though Ontellonji was proud of his two daughters, and pleased at their choices to let him act like a father as well as be one in blood, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with them. He hadn't really had a lot of practice with children, after all. But he might as well try.

"So?" he asked, as Ramana's attempts at speech briefly lapsed.

"So?" Corara replied, turning the word back on him. She hadn't been practicing, that he'd noticed, but she seemed to have picked up some verbal speech well enough, anyway. "What?"

"Whatcha think?"

"About?"

"Anything!"

::I like it here!:: Ramana piped up. "It's nice. And warm."

"It's all right," Corara shrugged. ::Haven't seen much, yet.::

The mix of telepathy and speech was, indeed, interesting; Ontellonji sometimes wished he had telepathy as an ability, but most of the time he didn't really care. Private communication on the sports field was usually considered cheating, anyway.

"Tired?" he asked.

"A little," Ramana admitted, while Corara sniffed derisively. ::Still kinda excited, though!::

"Not really," Corara added her own opinion with words rather than disgusted sounds.

There was no harm in being out in the open with his query, so he just asked it: "Well, if you're not tired, what wouldja like to do?"

Corara thought a moment, but Ramana was quick enough with an answer. "Our presents!" she chirped, remembering what he had, for the moment forgotten: the gifts he'd promised her and Corara, though Ramana was the only one so far who actually knew about them.

"Presents?" Corara asked, curious despite herself. All children liked gifts, after all, didn't they?

"I almost forgot," Ontellonji chuckled, and stood up, pacing to the apartment's heater, hiding in one corner, even further hidden behind the door to the bathroom. The apartment didn't have a fireplace, but there was a heating system that was half electric and half magical. He'd kept it on for the eggs' sake, but given the rest of the heat, he'd had Pebai spell it so that the heat stayed where it belonged: around the eggs. "I have a little something for both of you," he explained, carefully scooping up the packets that held the unhatched flitters.

"What is it?" Corara asked, craning her little neck to try and see.

"Well, you both know I'm not going to be around all the time," he began, settling down in front of them, cupping the wrapped eggs in one palm, resting his other over it, half to keep in the heat, and half to playfully shield them from view. "You're going to be living here, at the school, and I'll visit between games-- even take you to some, if you want."

Corara grinned; she, he'd figured, was definitely interested in that. Ramana just nodded, waiting eagerly for him to get to the point. They both understood, so he continued.

"Well, I know you've got each other, and whatever friends you wanna make, but I thought maybe I'd give ya each a little somethin', from me, so you wouldn't forget your old man between visits."

"Oh, Daddy," Ramana giggled. ::You're not old.::

It was a sweet thing of her to say, even though he knew full well he wasn't old. Being a father might make one feel older, though. 

::It's just a figure of speech,:: Corara explained. "So?" she added for Ontellonji's benefit.

"Soooo, I've got these." He lowered his palm, letting each of them pick one of the cloth-swaddled eggs. "Flitter eggs," he explained proudly. "Pets for ya, little friends to keep you company. Should hatch any day now, so keep it close, an keep it warm. I'll help ya look after 'em, until you're ready for it on your own."

"Ooooh, Daddy!" Ramana breathed, holding the egg against her bejeweled chest and beaming up at him. "Thank you!"

Corara, peeling back wrappings with fingers small enough to do so, examined hers seriously. Her gratitude was just as serious: "Thanks, Dad," she said, looking up at him with a simple nod.

And Ontellonji, even more pleased, settled back down with his two kits and wondered if that was what Frux felt like, with his own mismatched batch of youngsters. Maybe not, since they'd never been his, and they were mismatched, so different from each other that it was impossible to guess they'd been raised together unless you knew what to look for.

Then again... maybe he did. Ontellonji doubted he'd never know. But then again, he didn't really care, either. Right now, he was just happy, and he intended to stay that way as long as possible.