Post by krista on Oct 20, 2008 9:10:59 GMT -8
Monday, Sept. 13th
5:00 pm
Kristabella closed her eyes.
Russia was always beautiful this time of year, when their fall came to an end, cold winter coming to cover everything in a sheet of white tranquility, with flakes of true peace fluttering to the ground. The people she’d encountered during her stay there were very kind, respectful, trustful. Unusual, she chuckled. It wasn’t as they said the Russians were, cold, haughty and irritable. It was simply lovely.
Krista wasn’t in Russia, though.
Here she was, staring outside her window of the lounge in Viridian Manor. It was still fall in London; the house was always cold this time of year unless the heat was turned up and the fireplace running, even more so since the house was emptied. Her eyes stared at the chair her mother always sat in, cushioned seat and back, something taken straight of an 17th century home, still well-kept and in good condition with little sign of wear from its constant use. Then her eyes went over to where her father stood, pipe and all, near the fireplace with his elbow leaned up against the mantle. She could still see his white hair turned amber in the firelight, his moustache and goatee always trimmed to a short and ‘proper’ length.
Then her eyes moved again, this time settling at the piano where her brother Tristan would play and her brother Nicholas would speculate. It was a pleasant memory, this one. Not like the thoughts of her parents as a still-life was unpleasant, it was just a memory she knew she was a part of -- standing there with Nicholas, sometimes humming along with the familiar tunes Tristan played of his own or the well-known classics that he’d learned when he was younger. This was a sight she admired and treasured so much.
It was cold in the room, even though it was sunny outside. The season was always winter in the Viridian house.
Raising her wand effortlessly, Krista lit a flame in the fireplace, in hopes that would warm the house a bit more. No, she shrugged, slumping into a chair beside the window, which was now her usual perch when she came to visit the empty home. She sighed.
It was cold and without them, and would remain cold until she found them.
Why she'd come to Viridian Manor after all of these years? Maybe a tad bit of hope. She was hoping one of her brothers would be dwelling here at least, maintaining the place. Alas, it as empty. Dusty, run down enough she was surprised the place hadn't been condemned by the City, but she was glad it was still in tact. Sighing softly, Krista headed for the door and started out, into the gardens that were basking in the sunlight.
5:00 pm
Kristabella closed her eyes.
Russia was always beautiful this time of year, when their fall came to an end, cold winter coming to cover everything in a sheet of white tranquility, with flakes of true peace fluttering to the ground. The people she’d encountered during her stay there were very kind, respectful, trustful. Unusual, she chuckled. It wasn’t as they said the Russians were, cold, haughty and irritable. It was simply lovely.
Krista wasn’t in Russia, though.
Here she was, staring outside her window of the lounge in Viridian Manor. It was still fall in London; the house was always cold this time of year unless the heat was turned up and the fireplace running, even more so since the house was emptied. Her eyes stared at the chair her mother always sat in, cushioned seat and back, something taken straight of an 17th century home, still well-kept and in good condition with little sign of wear from its constant use. Then her eyes went over to where her father stood, pipe and all, near the fireplace with his elbow leaned up against the mantle. She could still see his white hair turned amber in the firelight, his moustache and goatee always trimmed to a short and ‘proper’ length.
Then her eyes moved again, this time settling at the piano where her brother Tristan would play and her brother Nicholas would speculate. It was a pleasant memory, this one. Not like the thoughts of her parents as a still-life was unpleasant, it was just a memory she knew she was a part of -- standing there with Nicholas, sometimes humming along with the familiar tunes Tristan played of his own or the well-known classics that he’d learned when he was younger. This was a sight she admired and treasured so much.
It was cold in the room, even though it was sunny outside. The season was always winter in the Viridian house.
Raising her wand effortlessly, Krista lit a flame in the fireplace, in hopes that would warm the house a bit more. No, she shrugged, slumping into a chair beside the window, which was now her usual perch when she came to visit the empty home. She sighed.
It was cold and without them, and would remain cold until she found them.
Why she'd come to Viridian Manor after all of these years? Maybe a tad bit of hope. She was hoping one of her brothers would be dwelling here at least, maintaining the place. Alas, it as empty. Dusty, run down enough she was surprised the place hadn't been condemned by the City, but she was glad it was still in tact. Sighing softly, Krista headed for the door and started out, into the gardens that were basking in the sunlight.