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Post by Sophine Shahrizai de Amodour on Nov 20, 2009 22:43:18 GMT -5
When my father sent word that he and Marcel would soon arrive, I became a nervous wreck. I had not seen him since I was ten years old, and only a handful of letters had we exchanged. And yet, I had always missed him, remembered trying so hard to catch his attention.
Guy was amused, not having the desire for our father's attention that I had, and Denise was indifferent, as she had not yet made my father's acquaintance.
The day he arrived dawned clear and bright, the leaves on the trees on Denis' street all red and gold and lovely. I was pacing my room as I had done for the past few days when I heard the carriage arrive and the bustle of activity. Looking out the window, I was first disappointed when I saw, not my father, but a young woman with a babe getting out of the carriage. Right after her, however, stepped a man that had to be Marcel, he looked so like Marc and Henri. Had he married, then? I was surprised that Guy hadn't mentioned it, but I dismissed it.
Then my father exited the carriage, looking as regal as I recalled. Now his hair was streaked with gray, but it only made him look more dignified. Though he was a Comte, to me he looked as if he should be a Duc. Excited, I turned and raced down the long staircase as I heard them enter, sure that I would capture my father's attention at last.
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Post by Guy de Layne on Nov 22, 2009 23:00:45 GMT -5
I was not as excited to see our father as Sophine was, knowing that his visit was going to cause more friction than anything else. Especially since he had apparently decided to bring my drunkard brother along with him.
I was in the kitchen, having a snack, when I heard the commotion that signaled my father and Marcel's arrival, and being so close to the front door, I was the first to greet them.
"Marcel," I said, clasping his arm and noting that he did not smell of alcohol. Perhaps that was a good sign? Trailing after him, however, was a young woman with fair hair and the palest blue eyes I had ever seen, and a young child at her hip. I was about to congratulate him, however, when Sophine rushed breathlessly down the stairs and hurled herself into our father's arms like a small whirlwind.
Our father looked rather discomfited, and disentangled himself from Sophine with a slight cough.
"Yes, well, what a reception, eh?" He turned toward the young woman and held out his arms, and she stepped into them. "I'd like to introduce you both to my wife, Maigrey, and her daughter, Miryelle." Her daughter? And his wife? My confusion must have shown on my face, because Marcel laughed softly, that bitter laugh that I recognized from my visit home.
"Say hello to your new stepmother," he said, a wry smile twisting his lips.
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Post by Sophine Shahrizai de Amodour on Dec 13, 2009 0:48:16 GMT -5
My confusion had to have been evident on my features. My new stepmother? She hardly looked older than I, despite that child on her hip. Still, I hadn't been raised to be rude.
"A pleasure to meet you Nadyne," I said, giving her a light hug. She smelled like jasmine and honeysuckle, too sweet for my taste. "Welcome to the family."
"Thank you, Sophine," she said, smiling warmly. "I am only sorry to be meeting the two of you under such dire circumstances. I am so sorry for your loss." I swallowed the lump in my throat and simply nodded, blinking back unshed tears.
"Sophine, why don't you take Nadyne and Miryelle to the kitchen and get them a snack. Your brothers and I have matters to discuss." My father's words were like a slap in the face; I supposed I had become too accustomed to being treated like an equal by the men in my life. Indeed, Guy looked uncomfortable, and I thought he might speak up for me, but I did not wish to be the cause of contention so I forced a smile.
"Of course, follow me, won't you?" I said, heading toward the kitchen. The two dutifully followed and as we left the room I could hear Guy offering my father and Marcel a drink. I tried to stifle my resentment, though I had the brief vengeful thought of introducing Nadyne to Denis, who I was sure would not let the fact that she was married deter him in the least.
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