What he had in him, you've got in you

You're your daddy's daughter

POSTED: Wed Sep 04, 2019 1:40 am

Once I rose
Tempered by this noise
All the confusion

She wished her Mère would hurry!

Pontifex excitedly tapped her feet against the stone floor, hardly able to contain her excitement. This was a grown up task all for her to do!

Her mama seemed contented to take all the time in the world. Slowly packing the little basket with choice morsels that smelled so good, a jar of something dark red that Ponti knew was probably a raspberry jam.

Mère, come onn. Buttercup gazing up at her thin, tall mother adoringly. Helena glanced down at the restless girl-child, favoring her with a smile that could mean just about anything! Mother was such a strange woman, Ponti thought with a giggle -- grown-ups were so funny.

Finally, finally, the basket was ready to go! Pontifex took it carefully between her teeth, her little head bobbing with it's weight. Out the door and it was time to fly.

Pontifex was not so little now that the path gave her such trouble, she leaped over a small log crossing the trail, and had to stop as a nicely wrapped roll of bread fell from her cargo with a wince. It was okay, no one had seen, she hoped, peering about briefly before setting back off on her way.

There was not so much distance between the two houses, and by the cliff's edge did she briefly stop, to take in the great swathe of water in front of her eyes. How the light bounced from its azure surface! But, she couldn't stop to admire, there was a mission to complete, a task assigned to her that was Very Important.

Down the slope she trotted, through grasses and low brush, squeezing herself through the small gap underneath a particularly thick one.

Their house sat, silent, upon her approach.

Lord Greygrief? Lady Greygrief? Ponti called, to an unanswering domicile. There was no one home, it seemed. For moments she fretted, Mama had bid her deliver this to the Greygrief household. Now what was she to do?

A noise, further along the trail called her attention, and she picked up her cargo and carried on; And there, as it smoothed down onto a sandy beach, was the Lord Greygrief, fiddling with something she couldn't see.

Ponti yipped, around the wicker in her teeth, and trotted along, towards the fiery pelted man with her tail wagging back adn forth.

Arbiter! Mère sent me with zome foods! The little girl plonked her behind in the sand, peering up at his green-eyed face earnestly.

Word Count: [000] Form: Optime Date: DD/MM/YY Time: 00 AM/PM

Table by Kitty. Edits by Miranda.

Pontifex Troy Lykoi
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POSTED: Sun Nov 10, 2019 8:48 pm

The me that you know
Is now made up of wires

On days few and far between did the Lord Greygrief receive a respite. The move had been a tiresome affair, and while Narcissa could outwardly find no issue with their new shared abode, she was still ever the obstinate woman and had certainly not taken particular effort to make things go easy. Raw as things were in the Greygrief household, never were these emotions shown to the public. Their sham of a marriage granted him power, this Andrew knew. It could not be jeopardized.

However, Andrew assumed it was akin to polishing a turd. Despite the fineries they draped their house in, a sham was still a sham.

It was moments of semi-silence like this that the Lord Greygrief had come to enjoy. With none but the breaking of the waves and the chattering of gulls ringing in his ears, and not the incessant nagging of an unsatisfied wife, Andrew could let go. It conjured a feeling in him reminiscent of times long past. Simpler times, before he'd become so hollow.

Fishing was a game of patience. He would sit with his line and pole for what felt like eons, waiting for the slightest nibble. Such activities demanded silence. Calm.

Lord Greygrief!

The child's voice was piercing, but sweet and laced with the purest of intentions. His daughter, she was. He could see it in her temperament, her smile. "Little bird!" Andrew exclaimed. He sat his fishing pole aside and eyed the basket she held between her teeth. "And what is this?" He asked, taking it in hand.

A lovely gift. A lovely girl.

"Did she now?" Andrew quirked a brow. Surely, he wondered if Helena truly put her up to the task. "You are too kind," he said, patting the young girl on the head with rough, calloused hand.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
The Proctor
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Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS