Extraordinarily Pleased

They're On Their Way

Three weeks could either drag on endlessly, or pass in the blink of an eye, depending on the circumstances surrounding it. Rarely did both sensations occur simultaneously; and yet, the evening the triplets had informed their parents of their intent felt like just yesterday, as well as too long ago to even pinpoint. Minutes felt like hours in and of themselves, and yet when the family sat down to dinner each night, each ogre wondered to themselves how they'd gotten there so quickly. The time had been filled with laughter, stories, and advice - solicited or otherwise - and very much felt normal, despite the upcoming date present in each of their minds.

The family had had a later night than usual, having had their closest friends and family over for a small going-away dinner for the kids - Donkey, Dragon, Puss, and Lillian; the dronkies had long since outgrown being able to go inside the house, and celebrated outside with their mother. The days of nightly dinners with the usual crowd had slowly lessened as the years had passed, as each of their proclivity toward adventure waned and their lives pulled them down different paths.

The triplets had spent the day of the celebration saying goodbye to their friends - and Farkle, his girlfriend - so that they could be fully present for one last hurrah with everyone.

Fiona and Shrek had debated whether to use the occasion to make their announcement, the pregnancy itself having been pretty solidly confirmed in those three weeks; three months along seemed a fair time to let others know. Fiona was primarily concerned not to pull focus from what was supposed to be the triplets' celebration. But the three had assured her it was fine - if anything, they'd prefer to not be the sole focus of the evening. And despite Shrek's general avoidance of attention, he concluded it'd be easier to tell them all then and there - less hassle than writing them all letters after the fact. So they waited until the night was dying down and everyone was making their prolonged goodbyes to quietly share the news. It was met with... positivity, albeit a completely shocked and nearly disbelieving positivity. The couple themselves still very much of the same opinion.

"Mmph- Grimm-" Farkle muttered as he shoved the too-big wad of clothes into his knapsack, his other hand firmly gripping the bag's brim. He then used both hands to hold the bag, and used his bare foot to compress the contents down.

"You uh... need help, dude?" Fergus sat on his bed across from his brother's, having finished packing a good while earlier. His bag - not even close to the same fullness, sat by the closed door to their room. Light shuffling could be heard from their sister's room on the other side of the wall, signaling that she wasn't done either.

Of course they had put off packing until the last minute - specifically, the morning of their departure. The kids had tried to sleep late, in a casual attempt to delay the inevitable, but they were woken by the sound of their father starting breakfast, followed by their mother being sick out by the outhouse, to which their father stopped cooking to go and help her. The eventual breakfast was unlike any meal they'd ever had; Shrek had made a giant spread of each of their favorite foods, without even asking them, and Fiona made them leftover packs from it. But even after breakfast as the morning crept by, the incurable nerves in each of their stomachs didn't translate to a sense of urgency.

Farkle gave him a look, having detected the sarcasm in Fergus's voice from the first syllable. "I'm good, actually. But thanks." He shoved his arm under his bed, haphazardly sweeping out things that had presumably gone missing in the extended months between room cleanings. Two socks that weren't even a pair - don't need. A... rag? Napkin? Either way - don't need. As he reached the very back corner, his hand fell on something that made him pause. His eyes widened as his fingers wrapped around the familiar form, and he pulled it out to examine: the stuffed dragon he'd had since... well, since the day he was born. Button eyes that had been replaced countless times, the last remaining wing that hung on by a few threads, and a red body with embroidered scales. It was definitely worse for wear, the red dye worn down to a pale pink around its neck, though not nearly as much as Felicia's Sir Squeakles. He'd nearly forgotten all about it, as it had been relegated to that far-off corner below his bed for over a decade, at least.