(no subject)
Rupert de Worde had spent more time around small children than one might have imagined, although it hadn't been since he himself was quite small. His younger siblings had been a delight, primarily serving as objects to play with and torture, roles that hadn't much changed once adulthood had been reached, though the mechanisms had. Then again, he'd begun to reflect, his 'adult life' hadn't really lasted that long, back home.
The island was different.
For starters, he was no longer the eldest of the de Worde sons. Through a fluke of the island's working, that was now William, though Rupert generally refused to believe it. Additionally, he was starting to spend more and more time with a very small child, albeit in small increments, and was in fact related to this one as well. Furthermore, his proclivities had taken a turn for the unspeakable, so he didn't speak of it, but it didn't bother him much, and what did that mean? This queer broadening of his horizons at so late a stage, however, hadn't really changed the ones that had already been there. It required all-together too much introspection for his tastes or, to be honest, capabilities.
He was kicked back on the sofa with Olivia, his niece, and holding her up with his hands beneath her armpits. She seemed to like it. She was unnervingly small, and her shock of unruly black hair and wide, bright blue eyes didn't look so very much like any of the de Worde children had as babies. Her coloring was more her mother's. Still, the baby did resemble his brother, and by extension, himself, and she didn't cry much, so that was all right.
"Uncle," he said at her again and she stared up at him, mouth ajar.
"Uncle," he repeated. Olivia didn't blink.
"Uncle," he said more firmly.
"She's barely turned a year old and she's already got grown men crying uncle?" a languid voice piped up from the doorway. Maladicta smirked a little at Rupert's barely suppressed expression of having been caught at something.
"She's a de Worde," he replied, "she'll have her crying over more than that." Maladicta's eyes narrowed, because she wasn't entirely used to anything beyond civility and poorly veiled insults from her brother-in-law. Their relationship was difficult to define because they did not, as such, have one. Still, she'd wanted to give William a reprieve and hadn't wanted to cart Olivia about the island that day as it had been a bit warm and so, possibly against her better judgment, had let her offspring with a blood relative.
She decided that Rupert's comment was, in fact, a compliment, and one she agreed with, anyway, and nodded a little.
Rupert couldn't help but watch the nod with a degree of wariness. It was possible they had just agreed on something. This was a foreign concept.
"She's quite quiet," he said, "didn't cry over anything. Sort of stares at you, though."
"She's a keen observer of the human condition," Maladicta said, and went to sit at the piano. She began to play and Olivia made a low noise that Rupert would have been hard pressed to transcribe, but sounded pleased and made her little ribcage vibrate.
"Too bad she hasn't a chance at growing up to be a proper lady," Rupert said, bouncing her a little, which upset but did not interrupt Olivia's happy whirring.
"She wouldn't on the disc, either," Maladicta pointed out, "I mean, look at her parentage."
Rupert barked a laugh, then stopped, and looked at Maladicta with an expression of deep misgiving. She shot him one of considerable suspicion over her shoulder, fingers hitching over the keys only briefly. They went back to their tasks in relative silence.
"Buuu," Olivia said and Rupert quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Boot," she said more concisely, and he grinned in absolutely delight.
"Pull the other one, it talks!" Maladicta stopped, eight fingers hitting a crushing chord.
"What did she just say?"
"She said 'boot'," Rupert pronounced, still beaming.
"What has the truth got on?" he asked her.
"Booooot," Olivia said then fell into a fit of pleased baby laughter. Maladicta stared. William was going to have a fit.
[Tag one, both, either!]
The island was different.
For starters, he was no longer the eldest of the de Worde sons. Through a fluke of the island's working, that was now William, though Rupert generally refused to believe it. Additionally, he was starting to spend more and more time with a very small child, albeit in small increments, and was in fact related to this one as well. Furthermore, his proclivities had taken a turn for the unspeakable, so he didn't speak of it, but it didn't bother him much, and what did that mean? This queer broadening of his horizons at so late a stage, however, hadn't really changed the ones that had already been there. It required all-together too much introspection for his tastes or, to be honest, capabilities.
He was kicked back on the sofa with Olivia, his niece, and holding her up with his hands beneath her armpits. She seemed to like it. She was unnervingly small, and her shock of unruly black hair and wide, bright blue eyes didn't look so very much like any of the de Worde children had as babies. Her coloring was more her mother's. Still, the baby did resemble his brother, and by extension, himself, and she didn't cry much, so that was all right.
"Uncle," he said at her again and she stared up at him, mouth ajar.
"Uncle," he repeated. Olivia didn't blink.
"Uncle," he said more firmly.
"She's barely turned a year old and she's already got grown men crying uncle?" a languid voice piped up from the doorway. Maladicta smirked a little at Rupert's barely suppressed expression of having been caught at something.
"She's a de Worde," he replied, "she'll have her crying over more than that." Maladicta's eyes narrowed, because she wasn't entirely used to anything beyond civility and poorly veiled insults from her brother-in-law. Their relationship was difficult to define because they did not, as such, have one. Still, she'd wanted to give William a reprieve and hadn't wanted to cart Olivia about the island that day as it had been a bit warm and so, possibly against her better judgment, had let her offspring with a blood relative.
She decided that Rupert's comment was, in fact, a compliment, and one she agreed with, anyway, and nodded a little.
Rupert couldn't help but watch the nod with a degree of wariness. It was possible they had just agreed on something. This was a foreign concept.
"She's quite quiet," he said, "didn't cry over anything. Sort of stares at you, though."
"She's a keen observer of the human condition," Maladicta said, and went to sit at the piano. She began to play and Olivia made a low noise that Rupert would have been hard pressed to transcribe, but sounded pleased and made her little ribcage vibrate.
"Too bad she hasn't a chance at growing up to be a proper lady," Rupert said, bouncing her a little, which upset but did not interrupt Olivia's happy whirring.
"She wouldn't on the disc, either," Maladicta pointed out, "I mean, look at her parentage."
Rupert barked a laugh, then stopped, and looked at Maladicta with an expression of deep misgiving. She shot him one of considerable suspicion over her shoulder, fingers hitching over the keys only briefly. They went back to their tasks in relative silence.
"Buuu," Olivia said and Rupert quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Boot," she said more concisely, and he grinned in absolutely delight.
"Pull the other one, it talks!" Maladicta stopped, eight fingers hitting a crushing chord.
"What did she just say?"
"She said 'boot'," Rupert pronounced, still beaming.
"What has the truth got on?" he asked her.
"Booooot," Olivia said then fell into a fit of pleased baby laughter. Maladicta stared. William was going to have a fit.
[Tag one, both, either!]