New Old Traditions
Who: The Baron, Alba and anyone out shopping
When: Tuesday evening, after dinner, lessons, and chores
What: Starting a tradition
Rating: G
Status: Open, in progress
The first day it snowed, Byron had woken to find Alba doing her homework in the sitting room, pausing what seemed every few moments to watch the soft, chilly silence dye the meticulously kept yard and garden white. After consulting a few opinions on the forums, he'd settled on taking her Christmas shopping some time in the next week.
Tuesday evening, he knelt in front of her, fussing a little over the coat he'd bought her what felt like lifetimes ago, making sure the buttons were secure and her hat covering the tops of her ears over a head of glossy brown hair. He knew his ministrations made her roll her eyes on a good day, but it seemed her mother had been similarly fussy so at least she was good at putting up with it. He himself was dressed somewhat more modern than he usually managed, in a dark, casual suit and a long, navy wool overcoat.
"There." He couldn't resist tapping her on the top of her head as they made their way to the door. "Now I'll let you lead the way on this trip, as I'll admit to being a little out of my depth. I only ask that that you not attempt to have the mansion looking like a house of ill repute by the end of the night." Some of the examples of house lights he'd seen reminded him far too much of Krauhausen's pleasure district. "As for a tree, I seem to remember a sign near the airfield that someone had set up shop, so there's a good chance we could get everything done tonight."
Making their way out to the carriage where little puffs of steam and breath from the steeds hung in the air, Byron opened the door for Alba, allowed her to climb in and gave the order for the horses to start towards downtown. What a picture, they made, the carriage glowing warmly in the lights spilled from shop displays and streetlights, horses dappled white from where the snow would stick to their metal hides. He needed new blankets for them, but for the night he allowed the illusion that they were slowly changing color to match the season.
When: Tuesday evening, after dinner, lessons, and chores
What: Starting a tradition
Rating: G
Status: Open, in progress
The first day it snowed, Byron had woken to find Alba doing her homework in the sitting room, pausing what seemed every few moments to watch the soft, chilly silence dye the meticulously kept yard and garden white. After consulting a few opinions on the forums, he'd settled on taking her Christmas shopping some time in the next week.
Tuesday evening, he knelt in front of her, fussing a little over the coat he'd bought her what felt like lifetimes ago, making sure the buttons were secure and her hat covering the tops of her ears over a head of glossy brown hair. He knew his ministrations made her roll her eyes on a good day, but it seemed her mother had been similarly fussy so at least she was good at putting up with it. He himself was dressed somewhat more modern than he usually managed, in a dark, casual suit and a long, navy wool overcoat.
"There." He couldn't resist tapping her on the top of her head as they made their way to the door. "Now I'll let you lead the way on this trip, as I'll admit to being a little out of my depth. I only ask that that you not attempt to have the mansion looking like a house of ill repute by the end of the night." Some of the examples of house lights he'd seen reminded him far too much of Krauhausen's pleasure district. "As for a tree, I seem to remember a sign near the airfield that someone had set up shop, so there's a good chance we could get everything done tonight."
Making their way out to the carriage where little puffs of steam and breath from the steeds hung in the air, Byron opened the door for Alba, allowed her to climb in and gave the order for the horses to start towards downtown. What a picture, they made, the carriage glowing warmly in the lights spilled from shop displays and streetlights, horses dappled white from where the snow would stick to their metal hides. He needed new blankets for them, but for the night he allowed the illusion that they were slowly changing color to match the season.