Post by Deleted on Oct 29, 2015 2:59:10 GMT -5
There was no warning as to why he was turning up on the Delamara doorstep. He had not written a letter, or a note, and had not thought to ask permission. This was not because he was rude, necessarily, but because he thought it best to surprise her. He had spent time thinking about her response to him on the day of the tourney- how she had said time was her only healer and how she was hurt. He didn’t know the specifics, didn’t ask for the details because he was concerned that hearing them might force him to act in a manner that was not like him. So, instead, after much conversation with himself and Eveline, he had decided that there was a better way to make her feel better than to wait. Matthew wasn’t sure why he was so bothered. But she was a pretty girl and pretty girls deserved to smile. Maybe it was because she reminded him a little of Deina, his elder sister too that he seemed so determined to make her feel better.
Matthew climbed the stairs and rang the bell.
The last two meetings they had had, he had always been accompanied by someone. In the first he had a plethora of ribbons in his hair and a little girl on his lap – who had been mistaken for his daughter. On the second occasion a cat followed him like an extension of his soul. Today he had not come alone, but he had not come with something that would follow them for the rest of the night. When his mother was sat, or in anger with his father, she was always on the receiving end of gifts, specifically flowers. And under the light of the warm evening he had brought the same. A small bunch, or four or five flowers, that were as colourful and smelt delicious.
And thus, in his usual comfortable manner, he leant on the wall and waited for an answer.
~~
Christina Delamara
Cassandra Delamara?
Matthew climbed the stairs and rang the bell.
The last two meetings they had had, he had always been accompanied by someone. In the first he had a plethora of ribbons in his hair and a little girl on his lap – who had been mistaken for his daughter. On the second occasion a cat followed him like an extension of his soul. Today he had not come alone, but he had not come with something that would follow them for the rest of the night. When his mother was sat, or in anger with his father, she was always on the receiving end of gifts, specifically flowers. And under the light of the warm evening he had brought the same. A small bunch, or four or five flowers, that were as colourful and smelt delicious.
And thus, in his usual comfortable manner, he leant on the wall and waited for an answer.
~~
Christina Delamara
Cassandra Delamara?