06-22-2011, 04:31 PM
ooc: 3+. the mansion:
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In her short time among the Inferni, The Caves had become her informal residence, despite the fact both her uncle and father resided in the sprawling alternative - or rather because of it. Living in the earth was strange to her European sensibilities. She'd yet to see her father, and would wait until such a time he approached her. Until then, she'd afford the man a wide berth, and sleep underground. He hadn't asked that she trek across an ocean to find him. Cotl was no true blood relation, but he'd been there to greet her upon her arrival, and even though his presence was entirely circumstantial, she appreciated it. She'd come armed with a token of that appreciation tucked in the worn and cracked leather RCAF satchel strewn over her shoulder. With a delicate touch, she removed an aged snow-globe. Inside a miniature WWII flyer was grounded against a bed of white, and tiny white flecks swirled about water in emulation of light falling powder.
As she went to knock against the door she'd been informed was his, it swung open under the faint impact of her bony knuckles against wood. She stood with the memento pressed to her slight chest, narrow fingers gripping at its edges tightly. Her lavender eyes were fraught with worry and remorse for the intrusion, partially shrouded by her long loose head of raven hair. It was difficult to deny her impulse to explore and mentally catalog the contents of his room. Doing so would have been rude - even when invited. She was left with few other options but to look directly at him as she hovered in his threshold. She appeared better rested since they last met, and though her stomach was as flat as ever, it had ceased rumbling in hungered protest as it had throughout their first encounter.
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In her short time among the Inferni, The Caves had become her informal residence, despite the fact both her uncle and father resided in the sprawling alternative - or rather because of it. Living in the earth was strange to her European sensibilities. She'd yet to see her father, and would wait until such a time he approached her. Until then, she'd afford the man a wide berth, and sleep underground. He hadn't asked that she trek across an ocean to find him. Cotl was no true blood relation, but he'd been there to greet her upon her arrival, and even though his presence was entirely circumstantial, she appreciated it. She'd come armed with a token of that appreciation tucked in the worn and cracked leather RCAF satchel strewn over her shoulder. With a delicate touch, she removed an aged snow-globe. Inside a miniature WWII flyer was grounded against a bed of white, and tiny white flecks swirled about water in emulation of light falling powder.
As she went to knock against the door she'd been informed was his, it swung open under the faint impact of her bony knuckles against wood. She stood with the memento pressed to her slight chest, narrow fingers gripping at its edges tightly. Her lavender eyes were fraught with worry and remorse for the intrusion, partially shrouded by her long loose head of raven hair. It was difficult to deny her impulse to explore and mentally catalog the contents of his room. Doing so would have been rude - even when invited. She was left with few other options but to look directly at him as she hovered in his threshold. She appeared better rested since they last met, and though her stomach was as flat as ever, it had ceased rumbling in hungered protest as it had throughout their first encounter.