(no subject)
Mileina is working very carefully next to her father's desk, coloring intently on a piece of paper; she's around toddler age, and all that can be seen from her view is her father's legs in khaki pants and the desk and wall stretching up far above her sight. When she judges her picture done, she picks it up, but her father has gotten up from the desk; he's around the corner talking to someone in a low voice, but she misjudges where his voice is coming from and runs out the room and down the hall in the other direction.
Victory! A pair of khaki pants! She runs towards them and wraps her arm around one leg, waving the piece of paper with the other. “Papa! Pitcher!”
Tieria, bemused, looks down at her. She realizes it's not her father, but after a moment's deep consideration, continues waving the picture. “Hi!”
He leans down and takes the picture, staring at it for a second as if he's not quite sure what to make of it, then hands it back to her. “Don't run around out here. You should go back to your father.”
He abruptly turns and continues walking, and she trails after him like a small eager duck, happy to have made a new friend.
Victory! A pair of khaki pants! She runs towards them and wraps her arm around one leg, waving the piece of paper with the other. “Papa! Pitcher!”
Tieria, bemused, looks down at her. She realizes it's not her father, but after a moment's deep consideration, continues waving the picture. “Hi!”
He leans down and takes the picture, staring at it for a second as if he's not quite sure what to make of it, then hands it back to her. “Don't run around out here. You should go back to your father.”
He abruptly turns and continues walking, and she trails after him like a small eager duck, happy to have made a new friend.