Emelia, in her little beach cottage on the coast, sipped on a margherita beside her wife. The graying woman perked a brow as yet another damn spam-letter was dropped at her porch, and begrudgingly walked on over to read it, lest it be tax-collection.
"All those children, just to get one heir, that didn't have kids!?" she blinked, almost contemplating. "It sounds ... fun, almost. Alas, I'm lazy." Smiling a smile that knew not of the burdens of tax or peership, she shambled on back to ensure her child hadn't drowned in the time she was up reading.