[html] The woman was restless, as winter always made her. It was at this point in the year she had met Basil, but that seemed like ages ago. In some ways she still wondered if he was OK, if he was warm enough, if he was happy. The male had been kindhearted, and Fatin missed the faintly familiar sound of his lute.
Today, she had prepared a rabbit on the fire, turning it on a spit of sorts until it was nice and warm. She had seen little of her children, but they were fast approaching the time in their lives when they would be adults. Smiling faintly at the idea she put the rabbit on a stone, leaving it near the central fire where it would stay warm. Maybe she could find one of the kids and play a game or something with them. That was, of course, if they wouldn't be so ashamed of being seen out with their Momma. [/html]
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Winter, Merit found, was not his favourite season. Perhaps autumn, or maybe summer - although he remembered little from that season, aside from the warmth - but not winter. It was cold, too cold, and even though his coat was thickening and becoming more resistant to the chill, he would rather it be gone. The snow, however, he could not complain about; it was nice. Soft.
The boy was looking for his mother. Although he would much prefer to say otherwise - say he was a big boy, and that he didn't miss her - he enjoyed the woman's company. Pride might cause him to childishly say otherwise to anyone else, of course, be he allowed himself to admit it, if only in his own thoughts. He was pleased to see that she was not far from him, closer than he had thought, and he ran up to her, a smile claiming his lips.
Hi, mom.
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[html] A beam erupted onto her face at the sight of the cinnamon colored boy as he approached her. Testing his french, she quickly quipped Ah, mon petite cannelle! She was smiling as she said it, drawing her ankles so that they crossed beneath her. The golden shawl was pulled around her shoulders, but still she was close to the fire, glad for its warmth. "I'm going to be so happy when winter's over.....I hate the cold." She said quietly, looking at her little boy. hers. No one else had raised this boy, or his littermates, the closest thing they had to a father was a mix of Lucifer and Endymion. Both never should have been expected to step up, as Ravesque never should have left at all. Still, in the back of her heart, she missed him. She was raw and beaten for the many times she had been left behind, and each time she couldn't help but hope she could find her forever love.
Strangely, it had been Basil who had been on her mind lately, and the male had not been near her in how long? Nearly a year and a half. With a small sigh she ran her fingers through her hair, pausing to toy with a strand before she pulled a stick away from the wood pile. "Have you ever played Tic-tac-toe? It's pretty easy, if you want to learn." She drew out the board, adding two vertical lines and then three horizontal lines in the dirt. [/html]
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The boy smiled at his mother's use of French - the language honestly intrigued him. He was learning much of it, and was pleased to be doing do, and so he decided to speak briefly back; ma jolie mère. My pretty mother. That was what she was; beautiful. At least, he thought so; no one was as pretty as her, when she smiled.
Tic-tac-toe? What was that? It has a funny name. How do you play? He eyed her intently. He knew many running games, rough-housing games, but no games that involved... a funny grid-thing, or whatever it was that she had drawn on the ground. What did it do? What's that thing for?
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