The child just wouldn't sleep.
Scott had awoken from his slumber for the umpteenth time that night to the sound of a wailing goblin baby. He threw the covers back and his feet slipped onto the cold floor of his manor. Shuffling forwards, he reached for his trusty jacket hung up nearby and his signature fedora. Now he was dressed (well enough), Scott left the confines of his room.
He had given the kid its own room. The point of this was to have it be somewhere else so he wouldn't have to hear it screaming constantly. But that plan had flopped almost immediately. Now pretty much the entirety of Chromia could hear the small goblin child cry out in the midst of the night.
Scott was not parenting material.
Why couldn't fWhip deal with his own population burst? Scott found himself cursing Goblands under his breath as he gently nudged open the door to the child's room.
The goblin child had its arms and legs waving in the air, kicking and reaching out for hands that would never hold them. Its ears were tilted downwards as opposed to the usual upward point of most goblin ears.
He drowsily approached the child's crib and picked up the baby. How was he meant to hold a baby again? Scott had been to many places in the past and stayed with many people. At least one time he had lived temporarily with newly-made parents and a young baby. He barely recalled the way that both parents had cradled their baby and rocked it back and forth.
Maybe he could try that?
Scott gingerly shifted the baby's position in his arms to something reminiscent of what he had seen during his days of travelling. The baby's wails were still ear-splittingly loud, but slightly more bearable. He rocked the baby back and forth gently. What else had those parents done when he lived with them? Sing it a lullaby?
Oh. Oh they did do that.
Scott's dignity was going to die tonight, wasn't it?
Hesitant, Scott began to mumble a lullaby under his breath. It was one he somewhat remembered. One from his childhood. He couldn't recall who exactly it had been to sing it to him, but the voice sang alongside his own as he repeated it to this child.
At least the child's screaming was quieter. Now instead of screaming and crying at the top of their lungs, the goblin child babbled faintly. They made grabby hands and poked Scott's cheeks as he sang. Resisting the urge to pull away, he kept singing.
It took him a moment to realise the child had stopped screaming.
The child had nuzzled their head into Scott's chest and was babbling jovially. Eventually the young goblin's head dipped down further as slumber finally overtook them.
He did it. Scott got the child to sleep.
With a silent cheer, Scott placed the goblin child back in its crib. The child's breath hitched from the sudden loss of warmth. Its tiny green body shivered.
Scott sighed in defeat as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around the goblin child. Was the term swaddled?
If he had ever thought of handing the goblin child off to his people, he certainly wouldn't be able to go through with it. The child's hands gripped his jacket tightly and its ears were finally tilted up in the usual sign of contentment. Even more, the goblin child almost seemed similar to Scott, despite the difference in species. The goblin baby's eyes had taken on a mild teal hue, with one eye ever so slightly yellow around its pupils.
Damn it. This was his kid now, wasn't it?
Scott never thought he could be a parent. The option was never really available. Not when he was constantly on the move. Constantly running, whether it be from the consequences of his actions or even the law. Back then, he only ever wanted to travel and 'collect' things from everywhere.
Love never crossed his mind. Mainly because he knew he'd screw up. Betray them, cheat on them, steal from or scam them, run out on them in the dead of night. Or he would abandon them at the smallest hint of misfortune. There had been many instances from the past when Scott had left behind a multitude of lovers because of his desire for adventure and his cowardice.
Children were new to him. The prospect of now having a child to raise, on his own no less, was alien to him. He had always turned away at the prospect of kids. The best he could do was tell tales of his adventures to the children of whichever village or town he resided in.
The child's eyes fluttered open for a milisecond, and they smiled at him with a naivety and joyful innocence only a kid could have.
Scott hesitated. Then before he could second-guess himself, he pressed a small kiss to the goblin child's forehead.
He wanted to leave the room. To go back to bed.
But just in case the child woke up again, Scott wanted to be nearby.
So he slept on the floor. For the sake of his child. Not because he wanted to ensure it was safe throughout the night.
Scott got comfy on the cold floor and removed his fedora, clutching it tight against his chest.
He would figure out the whole parenting thing eventually.
He still hadn't given the child a name, had he?