Aida

Several hours pass before the first egg shudders, cracks, and a writhing mess of blues and greens uncoils. The Spiral's slick body quivers, and she snaps her newly formed mouth at anything nearby.

"A fighting spirit," Saoirse murmurs in amusement, her eyes twinkling.

Pacifica leans down to the first of her children to not be a Guardian, in awe of how small and fragile the hatchling seems. Her breath puffing over the wet scales before her tongue flicks out. Cleaning the Spiral despite the snapping of its small maw.

"We shall call her Aida," Pacifica replies firmly once the little one has been cleansed.

Aida, writhing about spastically still, fumbles her way over to bite Saoirse's toes, who chuckles warmly, "Hello little sister. What a spitfire you are. Must take after mother~" it is a fond tease that Pacifica retorts to with a huff of amusement.

So he practices, he rehearses, and eventually he approaches, only to be nearly bowled over by a Spiral who zips out of the door and past his face.

"Sorry!" she snaps her teeth at him in a vicious, clearly-not-sorry smile, then yells louder, "MA! GUEST!"

There is a deep sigh from inside the home, the sound of approaching footsteps, before a beautiful Guardian tips her head out, expression softening at the sight of the Imperial, "Hello there. I apologize for Aida, she's heading out to train and is rather excited," she lifts a paw to wave farewell to her daughter, then beckons the traveler closer.