04-29-2012, 05:01 PM
Perhaps it should have been a sense of fond reminiscence that brought Caprica to her ancestral home, but instead melancholia came fast on the heels of frustration untold. The woman rode with little of her previous exuberance. A boisterous puppy had become a flamboyant and outspoken adult, but too often lately this had translated into snappishness and a lousy attitude. She rode to brush off the pain of being so near and yet so far from everything she'd ever wanted: for the breathing room. When she came to the abandoned place though, Caprica simply stared at it. Somehow in her mind this had represented an escape, a place in her memory where there was a vestige of happiness and peace: a place she'd thought she could go back to. But here it was, empty and she didn't feel like she was recapturing anything. She didn't feel anything. It was nothing to her. Memories there were, but only ones that the remembering was more painful than the forgetting: her sisters and brother - one lost, the other two caught in a vicious circle of love and violence that had left one dead and the other damaged beyond Caprica's power to repair.
She tied the horse to an ancient fencepost, smoothed down her hair and moved to the doorway. Peering inside, she saw nothing but desolation. She tilted her head over her shoulder. "Desirable residence number one - you payin' attention, Rohan? - a dusty wooden shack with -" she coughed, "a musty sorta smell, and cobwebs in the rafters. Stables: zero... y'know, I don't think there's anythin' for us here, after all." She moved back to the mare, pulling her a tuft of grass as she went. "Guess we should go back to the caves and our life of luxury. This place ain't even fit for a vacation." She ruffled the mare's ears. "You think anyone will notice we ran away?" Caprica sighed, knowing they wouldn't. They'd assume she was out hunting, patrolling or sourcing timber for her wood-craft. No one spent enough time around her to notice the extra-long departure. The thought was irritating. She wondered if she could drag the time out in any way to heighten the chances of being missed. A thought struck her: heading back inside, she poked around until she found a broken old chair leg in a nice light-coloured pine. Then she moved to a window, and propping herself on the narrow sill with one knee sticking through the empty glass-less pane, she began to whittle with her craft knife. Something to remind her of the place, or something to leave her in memory of herself... which, she was not yet sure.
She tied the horse to an ancient fencepost, smoothed down her hair and moved to the doorway. Peering inside, she saw nothing but desolation. She tilted her head over her shoulder. "Desirable residence number one - you payin' attention, Rohan? - a dusty wooden shack with -" she coughed, "a musty sorta smell, and cobwebs in the rafters. Stables: zero... y'know, I don't think there's anythin' for us here, after all." She moved back to the mare, pulling her a tuft of grass as she went. "Guess we should go back to the caves and our life of luxury. This place ain't even fit for a vacation." She ruffled the mare's ears. "You think anyone will notice we ran away?" Caprica sighed, knowing they wouldn't. They'd assume she was out hunting, patrolling or sourcing timber for her wood-craft. No one spent enough time around her to notice the extra-long departure. The thought was irritating. She wondered if she could drag the time out in any way to heighten the chances of being missed. A thought struck her: heading back inside, she poked around until she found a broken old chair leg in a nice light-coloured pine. Then she moved to a window, and propping herself on the narrow sill with one knee sticking through the empty glass-less pane, she began to whittle with her craft knife. Something to remind her of the place, or something to leave her in memory of herself... which, she was not yet sure.