Days after their arrival in Odersten, called forth by an oath of duty, Ethel found that the days drug their heels and the nights were nigh insufferable.  Perhaps it was due to this newfound isolation, this foundation for boredom, that time seemed to still.  The minutes weren't the only change.  The capital city was much louder than the quiet walls of Sanctuary - a bleak reminder of a home abandoned to the spiders.  Drunken carols joined the chorus of barking stray dogs and wayward sailors exploring the shores; carriage wheels on cobble were a constant background thrum.  Dimitris had warned that any trip outside was to be brief and the blade on her hip was to stay within reach.

At first, Ethel had blamed the change of scenery for the overwhelming exhaustion that had taken over her lithe frame.  The excitement of the city, the lights and the sounds.  Just need to adjust, that's all.  How unusual it was for the young girl to sleep past the morning but now she'd wake up close to noon - if not later.  She found it taxing tending to Hazel and the other chores required to upkeep their small apartment.  All she wanted to do was sleep.

It took little time for her to acclimate to the enthralling sights of the city; Ethel took to it like a fish to water.  Whenever she could muster the energy, languid steps brought her to the wharf where she watched the birds dive into the ocean or steal bread right from the hands of a worker on break.  Being in Sanctuary, Ethel never realized how much she missed the sea until it rippled in front of her.  The sway of the sails in the saline breeze, the way light reflected from the myriad of waves.  She'd spend hours just watching the water, not realizing how easily the day escaped.

Those trips were cut short, however, when the overwhelming smell of fish made her stomach churn in a way that was foreign and alarming.  Most smells caused her stomach to quiver but it wasn't until they finally caused her to retch that Ethel sought guidance.

"When was your last blood?"  Ethel folded her hands in her lap as the doctor continued his examination. 

"Two months ago."  There was a strange demurity in her voice.  Had it really been that long since they left Sanctuary?  A niggling ache crept from her chest, its reaching, icy fingers squeezing her throat with a resonating hum of morose realization.  It was two months now since she'd last seen him.  After further testing, the doctor gave his diagnosis.

"I believe you're with child." 

The slow growth of her stomach confirmed it.  There was a subtle bump now beneath the folds of her freshly sewn maternity gown - a small difference one truly had to squint to see.  Even if Dimitris couldn't read, Ethel still wrote to him of her days here in Odersten and on the newest page, she included that they were expecting. 

Lithe arms cradled the bolts of cloth as she stood in front of their apartment door.  She reached for the key, turned the lock with a satisfied click, and closed the door behind her once inside.  Ethel began to unload her latest project on the tea table with care not to disturb the patterns of cloth already strewn upon it.  She stood for a moment, instinct alert, alarmed that something wasn't right.  Everything was how it should have been, how she left it before making the journey to the market.  The smell of the apartment, however, was... different.  There was a new musk that filled her head and made it swim with familiarity.  Steel and oil.  Leather and spice.

"Dimitris?"  Dulcet voice reached out above the frantic drumming in her chest.  "Are you here?"  Lithe fingers reached for the hilt of her blade tucked within the pocket of her dress as Ethel made way towards the living room.