fresh eyes

POSTED: Sat May 23, 2020 11:49 pm

The wedding had been beautiful, and it had brought Brocade great joy to have his sister present for the reception. They had entered on clouds, their expressions tinted with wine and a love that had been originally created by the crown. He remembered the Last Supper where they had been assigned to one another, forced to wed at Elphaba’s word. She had bestowed it upon them as a gift, clapping her hands as goblets were raised and congratulations rose to fill the hall.

They had made something of it. Brocade had taken his time with Morgana and it had blossomed into something magnificent.

It was to gentle and comfortable, but there were moments of fire, too. He could see the swell of her growing belly and knew that soon their bloodline would live on in the hearts of their children. He had kissed her hands and danced when he’d found out, sweeping her into his arms and burying the length of his muzzle deep into the russet locks of her hair.

<”You must be excited.”> Hyacinth was lounging in the Hall along one of the benches, working the length of her hair into a plait that would roll over her shoulders. <”Having children changes you.”> She grinned toothily at him and he was struck by the silver at her temples, the subtle lines around her eyes. <”I’ve been looking forward to this for years.”>

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he propped his hands against the back of his head.

He was more silver too. He knew this.

<”Years?”> She quirked a brow at him, <”That must account for all the years of practice – those trollops you brought through the caravans.”>

Brocade snorted, <”As if you were any better.”>

She drew a line on the table with her finger and smiled knowingly, <”Just wait, you’ll see. You will want them to do great things, big things, but you will have to reconcile that it is out of your control.”> Her smile turned sad, but only for a moment before perking up against, <”Your wife seems…”> She searched for the word, <”Capable.”>

Brocade blinked, <”Thank you.”>

They were interrupted in their bonding by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Hyacinth brightened at the sight of her daughter, her own hair braided in a style similar to her mothers. <”Symre!”> She patted the bench beside her, <”Come, come site with your Uncle and I.”>

Symre stood awkwardly, and for the first time Brocade noticed the item that she clasped against her chest.

It was wrapped in cloth and small. Symre dipped her head and strode forward, placing herself alongside her mother as she settled the package against the table. <”I know I didn’t offer you anything at your wedding…”> She managed a smile, one that reminded Brocade of when she was young and new to the Kingdom, <”But I wanted to make sure that it was perfect before I gave it to you.”>

Brocade’s chair groaned as he adjusted himself in it, and he glanced at Hyacinth and then her daughter – their features so similar yet miles apart.

<”What is it?”>

He had asked this once before, when Morgana had presented him with the rabbit-foot charm that now always hung off his tunic.

He carefully took it, hefting it in his hands before unwrapping the item. What lay inside was a bundle of twigs, arranged and twisted to form a rough circle. The twigs were bound with pieces of twine and ribbon – pieces that had obviously been scavenged and taken from other things.

<"It is meant to bring good luck-"> Hyacinth made a soft sound in her throat, a correction that had Symre's ears twitching slightly, <"And to act as an apology.">

Brocade lay the wreathe down on its wrapping and cocked a brow at his niece, <"An apology?">

Hyacinth patted her daughters shoulder and Symre smiled with too many teeth. <"I want to do better."> She paused, biting her lip, <"If you'll let me.">

Brocade chuffed softly, ignoring the way that Hyacinth leaned on the table with anticipation. Symre's long nails were drumming nervously against the long table and despite the way she'd arranged her hair and brushed out her fur... there was still a twig caught up behind one of her ears. Brocade drew a long breath before reaching forward to cover her hand with his own, his thick muzzle pulled into a smile.

<"Of course m'petite."> He hummed, <"Family is forever.">
The Director
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Luperci Vedetto, Milite Mate to Morgana
you forget I have a gypsy heart
listen to the wild