Petyr took pause midstride to look out the second floor window. He'd become distracted by the soft orange glow of a cigarette in the expanse of darkness and though he could not see its owner, he knew for certain they were watching him.
He thought back to when he had first spotted them years ago- climbing out the bedroom window to sit precariously upon the eve of the roof, flicking ashes off the mossy tile. One autumn, when an errant smoke butt had tumbled off into the fall leaves and destroyed one of Abendgarten's oldest camilla bush, petyr had not said a word to indicate who had caused it. Especially since it was his undoing of a blouse that had initially caused the entire distraction.
At present, a decade later, he thought to ignore the sight and press on with his rounds- time had broaden the space between them into a cold ravine and neither of them really had the time for banter, did they? And whatsmore, what would anyone see in a county-sort like he? He'd always seemed to be a last resort distraction, yes, and it would be beneath him these days to engage in the implied ridicule of being the entertainment. But... then there was a flash of a lighter and one orange glow soon became two and it was pulled through the air to draw the letter 'P'. A beckon.
He took a breath and dipped his head. He would join her soon.
Abendgarten
The house gave no real clue of its actual age aside from an immediate sense of ‘Very, very old’. The way the roof was littered with layers of moss and nestled into the mountain side beneath a canopy of Oak and Alder. How no amount of oil could mute the groaning of doors. The boards that ached with every step and the faucet’s drips splattering in time like a metronome.
Try as they may to spread the artificial smell of orange, ginger, or rosemary, the heart foundation of the house was infused with deep earthy black soil, cinder and fir. Sometimes in the crisp, cold mornings before you could discern dusk from dawn, the shadows cast by trees of old made black figures of monsters and knights upon the walls.
Marion or Mare to those who know her well, rests far above the Northern Shroud. A sleepy hamlet whose red rooftops and stone chimneys speckle the forest’s fair green face. Tucked against high rock ridges leading up vast hips of Mont Dauphiné, her people remain armed with their rugged humor, laboring hands, antiquated customs, and equal devotion to church and the local tavern. Early September brings cool winds and a series of autumnal festivals to save the village from falling threadbare into the slumber of winter.
“No, no. It was never about the money” Sigmundre agreed with another grip of the railing and step up. West shadowed behind him patiently, walking up from the basement for the third time as he scoured five decades of archives.
“Principle and practice. If Miry could not make amends with blood then how would she ever expect to do so with strangers? I do not need the money as well you know. It is all going into a fund and will be returned to you all when I am buried in my garden.” He had stopped by a stack of previously ignored leather-bounds . “Good heavens and Twelvesend, my eyes are going first I am sure of it.” an agitated rattling sigh escaped as he waved a hand toward the book on top. “ That is the one...and, the handwriting should look familiar.”
The sweet, stagnant scent of pine and old flit through the air upon a wave of a thousand dust flecks. Fifty sheets thick, the specimen book barely held the brittle bodies, and with each turn of page their leaves and flowers fell upon the oaken steps. The acidity of the glue had eaten through the parchment, rendering the curly cursive botanical names nearly indiscernible.
“I was half your age when my father and I finished that book.” he ran a slender finger across the top of the title parchment as if it would fix the damaged edges.
“When do you leave and who is accompanying you? Please do not say alone or I will have to suit up my boots and pray for good weather.”
“ I am taking off next week and I have a guard for the trip.”
“A guard? Are you going for business?”
“Not entirely. For vacation.”
“Vacation! Up there? With a guard? On your own volition?” he hardly got the words out as laughter struck him. The flat face she offered only added to his mirth. “Oh do not look at me like that - who is this old man to know the whims and wants of lady. One who I’ve had to bribe heavily just to step foot in fifty degree weather.”
She closed the book gingerly and awaited his point.
“Right.” He cleared his throat and made it quick, knowing she was growing tired of his antics. “ I want you to redo this book. New samples, new title pages for those that are in disrepair. Do this for me?” her neutral face made him anxious and sped his words with a sympathetic plea. “I have wanted to see it done for many years now..it has always been on the list, you see. I am so much older now, perhaps I will never see it repaired.”
“I will endeavor.” was her reply, non-committal but positive enough to seal his happiness. He was, after all, prepared to beg and go on a ten minute anecdotal lecture to win her agreement. Her quick answer took him by light surprise and with a smart smile he progressed up the steps.
“I look forward to its completion. Now! Who is this guard?”
The house gave no real clue of its actual age aside from the obvious sense of ‘Very, very old’. The way the roof was littered with layers of moss and nestled into the mountain side with a bushel of leaves piled high around it. How the door’s hinges could never have enough oil to mute their groaning welcome each time they moved. The boards ached with the softest step and the faucet sent drips splattering in time like a metronome to some quiet, unseen symphony.
Try as they may to spread the artificial smell of orange, ginger, or rosemary, the heart of the house itself was infused with the scent of clay, black soil, cinder, and fir trees. And in the crisp, cold mornings before you could discern dusk from dawn, the shadows cast by trees of old made black figures of monsters and knights upon the walls.
Alone in the near-quiet of early morning, just as the sun lit up the sprawling murals that covered the walls of the tiny bedroom,an insistent ringing split the silence. There near the door the little copper bell danced, alerting Mirax that her presence was requested in the kitchen.
Mirax awoke quickly. One of the many habits she'd yet to shake from their years living on their own was a tendency to immediately snap awake at the smallest unexplained noise. At least she'd managed to avoid developing a tendency to take a swing at whatever it was, so she didn't break anything. That and not picking fights with anyone had been job one while she was here, and she'd managed... alright. Nobody was dead, at least, and her temper had stayed intact, if a bit frayed around the edges.
She stared at the dinner bell. Chances were it was West, because if it was Sigmundre or the house staff they'd have rung it the standard three rings and if it was Jo she'd have just come up to wake Mirax up and be loudly annoying at her. With that established, she stayed in bed for just long enough that West wouldn't feel like she'd come when she called and then headed out, padding her way towards the kitchen and away from the insistent jingling.
With Mir's steps sounding down the kitchen's servant stairs, she gave the bell call a rest and went back to her station at the cutting table. Scattered in various states of peeled and squeezed, three variety of citrus awaited further mutilation via knife and wooden juicer. "I was beginning to think you left for the city prematurely." was West's good morning greeting.
"Nope," was Mirax's witty rejoinder as she entered, eyes immediately locking on the fresh citrus and nose twitching at the scent. Oh, she loved those delicious fruits, her version of West's favored bananas. She moved over to loom by her sister, eyeing them hungrily, although - as per tradition - she didn't touch them til West had her fill. That was one habit that wasn't going to be broken anytime soon. "Can't get rid of me that easy."
"Juice." West instructed, pointing Mir down at the end of the makeshift assembly line.
Mirax shot her a look at the order, but the call of the fruit was too much for her to deny and she almost immediately headed to where West had indicated, taking up the utensil and putting it to good use. "Do we even know if we're going to be able to get out of here? I know there was some concern about the snow."
A brief look out the window- snow tapering off from the night's storm. "I went out in it yesterday evening for awhile. We'll have to walk down the mountain for sure- but I have no intention of staying here longer than intended. If all else fails I'll climb on your back and you can play at becoming the powerful pack horse you were destined to be." a shove at Mir's arm.
Mirax bobbed her head in a nod, her overabundance of focus neatly divided between the conversation and the methodical destruction of the sweet little fruit halves.
"We should leave soon" she decided, hopping onto the table and peeling an orange just to eat. "but -- I’ll be coming back for starlight's eve. Not as long a stay as this time. I want you to come with me again."
"Mmm." Mirax kept her attention on her work, even though she could have easily split it as usual. Good way to cover up any annoying emotions she might or might not have been feeling. "I'm not sure I'll be any more welcome then than I have been this time."
Sigmundre had been uncharacteristically sparse. Looks were exchanged, words were terse, but Mir had made it through thus far. Although not entire convinced, there was some pride there in west’s voice.
"What? Me ringing you at first daybreak isn't good enough at making you feel welcome?" west pressed a bite of orange behind her lips and grinned over. An attempt at humoring. "You know he's not going to take you seriously unless you're consistent. Besides, I shouldn't be the only one to uphold our small side of the family. It is tiresome. "
Mirax snorted at West's antics, although the corners of her lips turned up in a very very slight smile. "I suppose. Waste of effort to stop trying now and you've got enough to worry about without your delinquent sister who can't get along with the only remotely reliable family we've got."
West sat there for some time, watching Mirax nearly fill the first glass of juice. Some untapped calm between them that felt near surreal. "I'll go pack." she decided, hopping down and snagging the glass and leaving none for all of Mir's hard work. "Let's leave right away." a treat for her sister’s ears.
Mirax watched all that squeezing work disappear. "Sounds good to me. I bet your cat and dog miss you anyway, so sooner the better."
West turned midway up the steps and eyed Mirax over the rim of her glass. No need to ask about who the cat was but the dog?...."Need I ask?"
Mirax shrugged idly "If one's a cat, the other must be a dog. Besides, it was either that or "side of beef" and dog is probably more polite-sounding."
"Ne-ver-mind." she pushed back up the stairs, regretting having asked. Something amusing to mention to @myvado-chambers .
“What about that one? Is it designer?“ the Sunstone choker was brought up against Joha’s long neck and made to latch. A few turns in the mirror before she looked through to gauge West’s response. Her sister knew the one she referred to and gave a simple nod, eyes looking over a little stack of photographs Jo wanted feedback on.
“I love the color. Fits me well. You have so many. I’ll take this one.” she decided, wrapping her cherry-blonde hair into a loose bun and trying out a dozen poses.
“Mh. Sure.”
“Sure??” Jo seemed surprised not to get any rise or protest. West somehow always acquired the newest and best and where Jo might not always be able to buy, she could always steal from her older sister. If ‘no’ had been the answer, the little choker might have gone missing within a day. With a growing smile, Jo pushed up from the vanity, displaying the little necklace Myvado had gifted West a week ago.
“You do have an eye for it.” West interjected, more interested in speaking about the photographs. ”The framing and proportion could have been better, but I’ve never known you to take your time so the awkward angles are fitting.” a finger held just over an obviously wasted teenage boy’s image. “Who was this again?”
“That’s Emeris Te--”
“Teoil. Right. I thought as much.” West touched a fingertip to the boy’s face. “He has his father’s nose.”
“Woooow you big creepo. How do you know his father?” as if Jo had to ask.
“I don’t. Not fully. Do they still own both refineries or just the one?” With a sweep of her hand, the small photo-prints were gathered and offered back to the youngest O’hteco who accepted them with more care than she’d like to admit. Joha had worried, if only for a few fleeting moments, that her friends might not have looked cool enough for West’s approval.
“Three. Another out in Northern La Noscea now. They have a vineyard too. He said he wanted to take me~~ I told him I’d think about it. That was a month ago.” Jo said with a proud, smug grin.
“I’m sure he’s found another girl to take by now.” West said cooly, crossing the room toward the door. Someone was getting too chummy for her tastes.
“How would -you- even know.” Jo followed after after her mild shock faded away. Her voice took a moment to fire up but the lack of applause and praise from the very person she was trying to impress hurt in the worst ways. “You sit alone in an crummy office all day and go home with a new pair of legs every night. Bet you can barely remember who you’ve been with. It is painfully obvious how you get all this stuff.” suddenly the jewelry at Jo’s neck felt worthless and after fussing with the latch she sank down onto the bed and threw it over her shoulder. “Bet it is a knock off anyhow.”
“Last season, actually.” Later, once Joha had something else to fixate on, West would make sure to tuck the dear gift away just to assure it wouldn’t be touched again. She paid no mind to the expected tantrum as she departed immediately, not wishing to see the sad baby face left behind. It would assure a raw nerve exposed. With no one for Jo to clique with she’d be on the prowl for confrontation.
A perfect time to test Mirax’s resolve.
mentions -
@myvado-chambers
@thegoddamnhawkman
@tres-tchotchke-chic
Abendgarten with her winding mountain road all lined with firs and twin chimneys adding more smoke to an already ashen sky. Late summer and autumn had already began their quarrel,hosting quiet battles along the mountain trail. Dead nettles and lichen seized rotten oaks, robins with their last effort collection of pine needles, and Camellias shot through the dulling thicket like the last warm breath of summer. Soon the gardens would fall fast asleep and every window in the estate would be marked with a halo of frost. A victor would arise and the already lonesome estate would settle in for the long winter.
