happiness is a simple game of lost & found

Clover; D'Neville Manor.

POSTED: Sun Apr 16, 2017 11:25 pm

Magpie Trouillefou

The darkling girl was bored.

Magpie's usual response to being bored was to be nosy. Naturally, because it worked so well in the past, this was what she defaulted to in the moment – she started to poke around. Her own things were not boring, but she had seen them an excessive amount of time, so she moved on to bigger and better items: papa's possessions.

Jehan was a man of many facets. He was funny. He was handicapable. He was superstitious (which Magpie took after in many aspects) and he was delightful. His possessions were likely to be greatly interesting, and it was there that his daughter trotted on two legs, attempting to be sneaky. She was alone, for now, in the quiet of the room she shared with her family and that gave her a chance to truly dig around. Miscellany was in abundance.

So were shiny things.

Like her namesake, Magpie gravitated towards anything that caught the light and sparkled like some sort of lost glory she could wear to make herself sparkle. It was one of these sparkly things that she absconded with in the end, collecting the trinket – one meant for good luck – and fleeing from the room as if she were a spy for some pack making her way back from a mission.

It would be a game. Papa would love it.

From the room she veritably flew, following her nose until she tripped upon her paws into the presence of her unruly auntie. Clover had taught her many things, like greater vocabulary and how best to kick sand into someone's face, and so she would know what was best to do with papa's shiny thing. Auntieeeeeeeee! shrieked the girl in excitement.

Terrible, terrible starter, I am so sorry.
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POSTED: Mon May 01, 2017 8:49 am

(--) Adorable starter, what do you mean?

Clover always had something to do. Whether it was picking up around the room, sparring with Vesper or Conrad, pestering Diego to teach her about fire, learning from Harosheth, or hunting and patrolling for the clan—there was always something.

So why today did it feel like she had nothing?

The shaggy mountain dog sighed and ran a hand through her unruly curls, treading down the hall and examining the mildewy walls and chipped paint without interest. She could certainly find something to occupy her time, but nothing seemed to appeal to her today, and there was nothing pressing for her to do. Jehan had taken Cartier out somewhere, in one of his desperate attempts to rekindle the injured Tirones' happiness, and Clover couldn't very well bother them—and meanwhile Oriole and Serenity were both elsewhere, doing adult things with their newfound adult ranks and being unavailable to their aunt.

She didn't want to work. She wanted opportunity to drop into her lap and to run with it, to have fun like she used to before she became preoccupied with war and grief.

And then a stroke of luck, as Clover rubbed at a spot of soot on her wrist: Magpie tripped at Clover's feet, something gold and sparkly in her hand.

Maggiiiiiiiiieee, squealed the fighter in mimicry of her overeager niece, and guffawed. She popped a squat and reached out to tousle the girl's dark hair before glancing at the trinket. Oh my God is that one of Jehan's? The fuck you doing, silly girl? she asked, grinning broadly. Does he know you have that? Pfft, of course not. What had their resident little magpie hoped to abscond with today?

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POSTED: Mon May 01, 2017 8:44 pm

Magpie Trouillefou

Her aunt's big hands mussed her always-mussed hair, the younger of the two lifting her head without rising from the floor she'd landed on. Who needed to stand? Not Magpie Trouillefou, that was who, and she flailed her thief's arm around to let the charm sparkle in the light it could catch while her aunt – by mind, if not by blood – asked her questions about it.

Does he know you have that?

Nooo, but it'll be funny, she insisted, thrusting her hand out towards the older dog's face, finally bringing the charm to a still. What should we do with it? It was an open-ended question. Magpie had no ideas of her own on this front, other than keeping it (for it was shiny, and she so loved shiny things), but that wouldn't be fun for her papa and she wanted to make sure he had fun – her young mind disregarding that he might be angry instead. (Who could ever stay angry at Magpie, after all?)

Finally, the dark girl scrambled to her feet and crouched, squatting in front of Clover and cradling the piece in her padded palms between the two of them. It's pretty, right? I'm right, I know.

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