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The Mansion

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There was no sound of her feet on the floor as she passed through. The sliding door in the livingroom was left open, the curtains billowing. The trail to the sea was well worn, though she had made little use of it this past year.

The sun was a faint memory over the horizon. It had left behind its colors, reminding her of its existence. Her hand was clutched tightly into a fist at her side. At the edge of the sand where it met the water, she stopped. Just watching the water undulate a moment before her arm lifted and she forced her fingers to open.

A breeze stirred off the water and swirled the red rose petals in her hand before forming a small whirlwind, lifting them. The breeze touched her cheek before it took the petals out to sea.

In her mind, the song played and slowly faded away.

It was her final good-bye.

The stars and the moon saw her back to the house.

There would be a new day when the sun rose and it would rise and set... and rise again.

She didn't look back.
 
Lilacs, posies, and daisies on the counter. A late spring arrangement fresh with life that stood out against the stone. He'd been a blur about the manse that morning. Food, a few good mornings to staff. The maids blinked to find him clean shaven. Dangerous, really, when a lout cleaned himself up.


A small stack of pages were tucked under one arm. Doubtless, really, that they were rife with debauchery.
 
*Stopping by the Mansion unusually early, it's been months since I crossed this threshhold. But I sense something in the wind; something I've not felt since......

In my arms I carry a woven basket made of willow. Within are the fruits of the forest, the Mother's gifts. Berries of all sorts, apples, cherries, walnuts, hickory nuts, and pecans. One other item fills the basket; a small crock of freshly gathered honeycomb.

I leave it on the counter, absently rubbing one of the many sites of the bees' stings. Silent wishes for comfort and happiness are left with the gift as I turn to go.* :rose:
 
She stumbled out to the kitchen, neatly groomed for so early in the morning. Red hair tied back in its usual ponytail that swung gently when she she walked. Cupboard is opened, coffee cup extracted and coffee poured, a sip taken.

A basket and a vase, both tucked with thoughtful gifts. She smiled. A fingertip is held out to scoop up a little of the honey, with such nature's gifts, it could only have been from Thyri. The elf may be elusive, but she is endearing.

The fingertip is inserted into her mouth as eyes close, the sweetness is savored. A sweetness touched by the sun. She idly wondered if the elf collected more than the just the comb. The basket almost overflowed with generosity. All things she enjoyed.

Her eyes slipped to the vase, a wide smile formed on her lips. He was still wandering around the mansion. She'd have to question the maids and hopefully, get more than giggles. A thoughtful look entered her eyes as she picked up the vase and took it to the study with her so she could enjoy them when she got back and settled at her desk.
 
A big square white box is left outside of Ice's room upstairs.

Nestled amongst the tissues inside are 'implements" to aid in debauchery and a single blossom of plumeria.
 
Insanity reigns on Lit. Nothing new there. It helps. Now to try and focus on threads and try to make some inroads.

Veroe is on hold. I'm still thinking there.

I've started on a post for Se7en but can't concentrate yet.

Fr33k.. *smile* I'm saving the post for Fr33k for when I have no interruptions.
 
DarkWarrioress said:
Insanity reigns on Lit. Nothing new there. It helps. Now to try and focus on threads and try to make some inroads.

Veroe is on hold. I'm still thinking there.

I've started on a post for Se7en but can't concentrate yet.

Fr33k.. *smile* I'm saving the post for Fr33k for when I have no interruptions.
Click to expand...

I look forward to reading it. :D
 
She walked the house, turning off the lights, making sure the doors were locked and made her way, in the dark, to her room.

Good Night, Lit. :rose:
 
Things to do today and then I am going to sit down and try to write. That's providing certain rascals around here don't sidetrack me. :kiss:
 
The doors in her bedroom opened and she stood momentarily, a hand on each doorknob, as she glanced up at the night sky at all the stars. Every star held a wish, a special wish, for everyone who dared to believe in such things.

She closed the doors as she stepped back inside her room, heard them softly click, a sound that seemed to echo in the room around her. Pulling the curtains closed, small bare feet with painted toes, made their way to her bed in the darkness.
 
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Her ponytail is different this morning. It hangs low and over one shoulder. The scents of baking banana nut bread and fresh coffee waft from the kitchen. She sits in her desk chair, one ear tuned for the buzzing of the kitchen timer that will signal the bread is done. A cup of coffee sits on her desk growing cold.

The post for Veroe is complete. Her attention turns to her tale with Fr33k.
 
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No Maids go scurrying. They're much bereft and whispers of his sudden turn from them go sweeping through the Manse like a breeze. He moves steadily through the halls at odd hours, never lingering long. A drink is made, taken, and a flower left. That's the evidence of his passing now.

Flowers.

Solitary blooms.

They're placed in every hall and every room he haunts nomatter how briefly. They're little calling cards of consideration for her alone. One, in particular, is left beside her bedroom door. It could easily be missed. Left. Or, if an eye was keen enough, spotted for its purposeful placement and the fire and ice bloom of its petals.
 
In her meanderings through her house, she finds solitary blooms. They bring as warm smile to her face and lifts her heart. Even the mutterings and dower faces of the maids do not alter her mood.

Her footsteps carry her to her bedroom door, where she spies another bloom. In the palm of her hand, she studies it. How ironic. He'll understand once they embark on their tale to come. Sometimes, she thinks he even dwells in her head. Uncanny.

She carries the bloom into her room and places it on her pillow for now. One day or perhaps, one night, he'll appear. She doesn't know where or when. It's been a long time in coming. Her lips quirk at the thought. Hopefully, he lost his tally sheet.

For now, she is not ready to enjoy such a moment. He knows. He is patient.

One last glance at the beautiful bloom. A fingertip touch. Then it is off to shower, change and work out her day.



Light Ice said:
No Maids go scurrying. They're much bereft and whispers of his sudden turn from them go sweeping through the Manse like a breeze. He moves steadily through the halls at odd hours, never lingering long. A drink is made, taken, and a flower left. That's the evidence of his passing now.

Flowers.

Solitary blooms.

They're placed in every hall and every room he haunts nomatter how briefly. They're little calling cards of consideration for her alone. One, in particular, is left beside her bedroom door. It could easily be missed. Left. Or, if an eye was keen enough, spotted for its purposeful placement and the fire and ice bloom of its petals.
Click to expand...
 
*resigned sigh*

Since it's family working on my comp, I guess I have little choice but to be patient. They have jobs and RW issues that need to be seen to first. They are saving me quite a few bucks as well, so I'm not complaining. I know they feel bad as it is.
 
The clouds obscurred the sky this night. Consequently, her rose garden was more shadow than moonlight. There would be no wishing on a star for her. She had too many wishes anyway. Distractions. That's what she needed and found it for the past two days. Today had been a good day. She wasn't sure about tomorrow or the next day or the next. She was just thankful for what she knew and that was, that today had been a good day.

The hem of her dress brushed along the tops of the grass. Bare feet sank into the soft grass as she walked along. Head up. Not down. Shoulders back. Spine straight. Her tummy growled softly though it seemed terribly loud in the night. It was reminding her to eat. Across grass until tender soles touched concrete. Sliding door opened and closed. A shadow moved in front of the window. The light switch was passed. No glaring light for her. Only the soft light of the refrigerator as the door opened and she peered inside, making a face. Reluctantly, she drew out cheeses and fruit. Illumination from the frig was cut off as the door closed but soft light from under the counter came on as she reached for the loaf of crusty bread, cutting off a piece. A plate, an arrangment of fruit and cheese carried to her study and set on her desk. The soft creak of a chair as she sat down. The computer was flipped on as a hand reached idly for a small wedge of cheese.
 
Sleeping in was good. She had been waking up at 4am for most of last week. Today she felt more rested. Ponytail, shorts and a man's white shirt which hangs to her knees, is the chosen mode of dress for the day.

She padded out to the kitchen for coffee, still collecting solitary blooms as she finds them. They made her smile and laughs softly. She tucked one in her hair, behind her right ear before retrieving coffee and padding back out to use the laptop.

Good Morning, Lit :rose: :kiss:
 
"Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings,
but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas.
They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family.
They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they
express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict.
Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.“

—Susan Cain, Quiet
​
 
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:rose:

"Find a woman who makes you feel more alive
She won’t make life perfect but she’ll make it infinitely more interesting.
And then love her with all that’s in you."

—Gayle G. Roper
​
 
DarkWarrioress said:
"Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.“

—Susan Cain, Quiet
​
Click to expand...

Please forgive me for intruding but this quotes resonates so very much, may I steal it for my quotes thread or would you please post it there to.:rose:
 
*Bursts through the patio doors, racing down into the home theater room, vaulting the back of the seats and grabbing the remote in one spectacular motion, then tuning in to TCM channel to watch Sergeant York on the big screen with the killer surround sound.*

Wonder who I have to kill to get Caitydid to bring me some popcorn. ;)
 
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