Post by Lefiruc Storm on Apr 1, 2014 23:49:26 GMT
OPEN TO ALL (Within Reason )
Lefiruc sat in his study, his eyes looking into the fire in the hearth as it softly glowed. The grandfather clock in the room corner ticking away, its pendulum swinging ever onwards, never tiring nor stopping. The crackling logs and mechanical ticks the only sounds in the room aside from his own breathing. He found his eyes, as they were want to do these days, travel to the single jar he kept above the mantelpiece above the fireplace. At first glance, it seemed to be an ordinary oaken jar, hardly worth noticing in some circles. Unless one took another look at the piece. Engraved on the rim of the base and lid were small intricate runes, and along its body ingrained into the wood itself a spiralling pattern that seemed to have no end nor beginning. The wood itself at first look appeared to be of oak. But to those that knew of such things, that could divine its true origin... it was of a wood not found in Lodan, or even this world.
"A fitting metaphor my love... you were always fond of metaphors and similes..." said the old man quietly as he looked above the jar to the painting hanging from the wall. A painting of a raven haired woman, couldn't be no more than her early thirties at the time it was painted. She was sat on a devan chair, dressed in as fine a silk red ball-gown as one could imagine. A gentlemen stood beside her, his hair already turning the silver it was today, although a single rebellious streak of blue seemed to dare its own existence down the centre of his mane. As had been the style at the time, he was dressed in a dark green, almost black suit, with white cuffs and shirt, the cufflinks bearing the family crest of a rearing horse eminent if one looked closely.
On either side of the grand picture were two smaller pictures. On the left was a little girl, with hair as black as her mothers, although again, there was that lock of blue accenting across her fringe. She looked to have been about eight when the portrait was done. Lefiruc's eyes lingered on his wayward daughter, remembering the days and nights of her childhood... before she'd left her family to seek her own life, away from the lies and secrets they had to keep because of their heritage. He'd sent a man out to find her... even took to her her mother's old choker and pendant to have at his wife's behest... no avail. Didn't help that the man went missing after apparently failing to find his daughter.
His gaze tore from the frayed thread of his daughter to the portrait on the right, his eyes welling up with tears once more as they tended to do on these lonely eves. A tiny sleeping bundle in his mother's arms. Swaddled in blue cloth, only the ghosting of hair fuzzing on his scalp. A sad smile appeared on the old man's face as he recalls the debate he'd had with the artist concerning that little line of drool coming from the corner of the babies mouth. Lefiruc had insisted that even the imperfections should be present... for on the form of a sleeping child, it only made the portrait more real.
He was broken from his reverie by a slight knocking on his study door. "...I've told you before Linda..." he sighed as the door opened to reveal a young blonde maid standing in the doorway. She wasn't what one would call pretty when compared to the ladies of court, but she was a fine young woman the same. "You don't need to knock all the time. Only if I have guests. And I think you'd know if I had guests over." he said, collecting his cane and leaning on it slightly even though he was seated. "Pardon milord sir, but father wanted me to let you know that supper may be a little delayed... It's the potatoes again sir." said Linda, biting her lower lip as her master sighed. "Quite alright. Tell George that there's no rush. Have him check the second cupboard on the right if he hasn't already. There was a small hole there last week in the back of it they might have made bigger." he said, causing the girl to blush as he saw through her ruse once more. It had become a game of sorts since the house had been rebuilt. George, the chef he employed after managing to snare him from the Theatre district, would claim something was delaying supper, and Lefiruc had to guess which cupboard or hole the rats had come in through this time to cause the delay in supper. Linda curtsied and left after closing the door behind her, leaving the master to his reverie once more. "...Happy Anniversary my love... my sweet Lilith..." said Lefiruc as he looked up once more at the jar on the mantlepiece, a single tear rolling down his cheek to join the many others that had already fallen into the carpet below.
Lefiruc sat in his study, his eyes looking into the fire in the hearth as it softly glowed. The grandfather clock in the room corner ticking away, its pendulum swinging ever onwards, never tiring nor stopping. The crackling logs and mechanical ticks the only sounds in the room aside from his own breathing. He found his eyes, as they were want to do these days, travel to the single jar he kept above the mantelpiece above the fireplace. At first glance, it seemed to be an ordinary oaken jar, hardly worth noticing in some circles. Unless one took another look at the piece. Engraved on the rim of the base and lid were small intricate runes, and along its body ingrained into the wood itself a spiralling pattern that seemed to have no end nor beginning. The wood itself at first look appeared to be of oak. But to those that knew of such things, that could divine its true origin... it was of a wood not found in Lodan, or even this world.
"A fitting metaphor my love... you were always fond of metaphors and similes..." said the old man quietly as he looked above the jar to the painting hanging from the wall. A painting of a raven haired woman, couldn't be no more than her early thirties at the time it was painted. She was sat on a devan chair, dressed in as fine a silk red ball-gown as one could imagine. A gentlemen stood beside her, his hair already turning the silver it was today, although a single rebellious streak of blue seemed to dare its own existence down the centre of his mane. As had been the style at the time, he was dressed in a dark green, almost black suit, with white cuffs and shirt, the cufflinks bearing the family crest of a rearing horse eminent if one looked closely.
On either side of the grand picture were two smaller pictures. On the left was a little girl, with hair as black as her mothers, although again, there was that lock of blue accenting across her fringe. She looked to have been about eight when the portrait was done. Lefiruc's eyes lingered on his wayward daughter, remembering the days and nights of her childhood... before she'd left her family to seek her own life, away from the lies and secrets they had to keep because of their heritage. He'd sent a man out to find her... even took to her her mother's old choker and pendant to have at his wife's behest... no avail. Didn't help that the man went missing after apparently failing to find his daughter.
His gaze tore from the frayed thread of his daughter to the portrait on the right, his eyes welling up with tears once more as they tended to do on these lonely eves. A tiny sleeping bundle in his mother's arms. Swaddled in blue cloth, only the ghosting of hair fuzzing on his scalp. A sad smile appeared on the old man's face as he recalls the debate he'd had with the artist concerning that little line of drool coming from the corner of the babies mouth. Lefiruc had insisted that even the imperfections should be present... for on the form of a sleeping child, it only made the portrait more real.
He was broken from his reverie by a slight knocking on his study door. "...I've told you before Linda..." he sighed as the door opened to reveal a young blonde maid standing in the doorway. She wasn't what one would call pretty when compared to the ladies of court, but she was a fine young woman the same. "You don't need to knock all the time. Only if I have guests. And I think you'd know if I had guests over." he said, collecting his cane and leaning on it slightly even though he was seated. "Pardon milord sir, but father wanted me to let you know that supper may be a little delayed... It's the potatoes again sir." said Linda, biting her lower lip as her master sighed. "Quite alright. Tell George that there's no rush. Have him check the second cupboard on the right if he hasn't already. There was a small hole there last week in the back of it they might have made bigger." he said, causing the girl to blush as he saw through her ruse once more. It had become a game of sorts since the house had been rebuilt. George, the chef he employed after managing to snare him from the Theatre district, would claim something was delaying supper, and Lefiruc had to guess which cupboard or hole the rats had come in through this time to cause the delay in supper. Linda curtsied and left after closing the door behind her, leaving the master to his reverie once more. "...Happy Anniversary my love... my sweet Lilith..." said Lefiruc as he looked up once more at the jar on the mantlepiece, a single tear rolling down his cheek to join the many others that had already fallen into the carpet below.