Dystopian Names Mga Nobela at Kwento

Emily said, her eyes gazing at him perfectly. They all took turn studying the baby, their eyes piercing into the baby's skin, he bursted out crying again. "Niccy," Nova peered down at her. "What do you want to name her?" Niccy curled her lips up, her brain working for possible names to give him. She glanced at Nikky, and he muttered a letter. 'D,' Possible names that started with 'D', she had one clearly in mind. "Damien, his name should be Damien," They all gazed at her.

I say to Dalon, and he gives me a strange look. “I am trying not to judge the name, but I am struggling a bit here.” He says and I have to remind myself that not all people read fantasy like it is a lifeline. “I named him after one of my favorite book boyfriends.” I tell him and he looks horrified now. “I have to compete with fictional men now?” He asks, making me laugh harder. “My big pup is Abraxos.” I say between laughs when I can actually catch my breath. “Where do people get these names? That can’t be a name for a male character in your books.” He says.

Every damn time. So we made a deal. Each pregnancy, one mate gets to pick all three names. Hermes picked first—hence the very Greek names: Brison, Calix, and Demetrios. This time, it’s Alex’s turn. He has a theme. He’s picked the names. But he won’t tell anyone what they are. To keep track, we decided to go alphabetically. Alex is “A.” Hermes will take “H.” Jake and I both cover “J.”

I add Denali, Yukon, Mako, Aspen, Aurora, Luna, Indigo, Sasha, Kyra, Kira, and a few others. I type “wolf names” into the search engine and the second site excites me. The names are dire wolves, the mythological-like dogs, adopted by the Stark children on HBO’s Game of Thrones. I’m a huge GOT fan. The names include: Ghost, Lady, Summer, Nymeria, Shaggy Dog, and Grey Wind. I quickly move my curser to number two on my list and insert Nymeria, Ghost, and Lady. This moves all other names farther down the list of possibilities. I circle Nymeria, as Arya Stark is a favorite character of mine.

“What kind of names do you like?” He brightened. “For a boy… maybe ‘Elliot’? For a girl, ‘Seraphina.’” “Beautiful choices,” I said, resting my head lightly on his. “I was thinking of something like ‘Lucien’ for a boy. Strong, timeless.” He practically melted. “I love that.” Every word I said was a lie. But each one was a step closer to freedom. If I had to fake a future to survive the present, so be it.

This was our fight now, and I knew we could win it. Later that evening I quietly slipped out of the planning room. Everything felt too heavy, so I sat outside watching the sunset. The colors calmed me a little, but my mind still raced. Damon, Colt, and Blaze found me soon after. They sat down close, one on each side. Instead of talking about enemies or plans, they started talking about life after the war. "I want to name the baby something strong," Damon said with a smile. "Like Echo or Kai." Colt laughed. "No way. Something soft and sweet. Maybe Rose or Finn."

The children sat with unusual seriousness while May lowered herself comfortably into a chair. “All right,” Damien said. “Let’s hear the ideas.” Aria raised her hand like she was in school. “I think her name should be something pretty and soft. Like... Bella. Or Lily. Or Angel.” Aiden immediately shook his head. “No. She should have a strong name. Like Zara. Or Nova. Or Captain.” May laughed so suddenly she had to hold her stomach. Damien covered his grin with his hand. “Captain?” he repeated. “For confidence,” Aiden said.

"Every third wolf is named Luna." "Fine. What's your suggestion?" "Something strong. Traditional. Royal." "Boring, you mean," Kieran says. They start arguing. I keep organizing. Sort tiny socks. Fold onesies. Arrange everything perfectly. "What about Alexander?" Damon suggests. "For a boy. Strong. Classic. Royal." "Alexander Thorne." Kieran tests it. "Not bad. But what if it's a girl?" "Victoria." "Absolutely not. Too stuffy." "You're too stuffy."

Alistair and I exchange looks because we’ve been avoiding this, avoiding the intimacy that comes with naming something, the attachment. “What do you think we should call it?” I ask, deflecting. The children consider this with that synchronized head-tilt they do. “Nyx,” Dante says. “It means night. Because it came from darkness but is trying to become light.” “Or trying to pull us all into darkness,” Donald mutters from where he’s monitoring the baby with yet another diagnostic spell. But the name fits somehow, this creature that’s both shadow and substance, ending and beginning. “Nyx,” I repeat, testing it. The baby coos in response and reaches for me with tiny hands. “Alright. Nyx it is.”

Now they had been blessed with both. “Well, you know I wanted a girl, and I have been thinking. Anastasiya, it means resurrection. And it is the name of an infamous Russian princess. She is my printsessa, so I think it’s apt.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone, causing her heart to swell. He had really thought this through. Dimitri looked towards her, “What about you, my love?” She had thought about it as well, in case she was carrying a boy. She fell in love with the name and the meaning. “Ayden. It is the Celtic name for fire and reminds me of my vow to you.”