Henry has a very good memory, and a very long one. He hasn't met everyone at the Mansion, by far, but a few, and one in particular stands out, and always has. She read things he meant to hide. Offered of herself when she realized her wrong. And, yes, he can still recall the taste of her blood ( Read more... )

He had Phedre for a while. With Anita hurt, he needed someone, and Phedre - was willing ( Read more... )

Henry is inside this evening, wearing an apron with a floral pattern and cooking.

The door to his room is open, and the window as well, letting in the cool evening air. He seems preoccupied, though in reality he is acutely aware of everything going on around him as he stirs the chili in the pot on his stove. It's not for him, of course; he'd have ( Read more... )

"Mmmhm." He breathes on her neck, a little, adjusts her in his lap. "That's what I am. Just a schoolboy. Not so little anymore, though, I have passed twelve years old. Fortunately for you."

A small and wry smile.

continued from here

It's a little after midnight, and Henry Fitzroy has passed out on his couch. Technically, these are his waking hours, but he's not feeling very well rested, rather run into the ground, and consequently stumbled from what was a disastrous afternoon into his room and fell on the couch to sleep like (pardon the sort of pun) a dead thing ( Read more... )

Henry Fitzroy is making his way back to his room with some effort, quite a bit paler than usual and not looking entirely well, stumbling through hallways mostly using the support of the wall. And kind of hoping he doesn't run across anyone unfortunate, as he really doesn't want to distress any ladies over this. Though he probably should have pulled ( Read more... )

*is in the library, again, reading, frowning slightly*

*walks by, smells Henry, and smiles to herself. She comes by, standing between two shelves.* Henry. *softly*

*looks up, startled, and then does smile* Anita.

Darlin'. *she comes closer.* You look beat.

I'm just a little tired. I'll be fine. *stands*

*sighs* I'm worried about you, hun ( Read more... )

Henry is out for a walk, at night, strolling across the lawn to the lake. He's always liked water in the moonlight - how it looks like silvered glass, almost as though he could walk on it. He's standing there, quite still, hands clasped behind his back, almost as though he is waiting for someone - which, perhaps, he is.

Henry is tired.

And the sleeping all day just doesn't help.

Which is why he's actually napping, for once, on the couch in the main room, frowning a very little bit.

Henry is sprawled in a chair in the library, reading a book thoughtfully. The Silmarillion actually, though it's not helping the little niggling worry that just won't go away. He almost wishes for a distraction, though he won't put the book down otherwise. He knows there are things in here he needs to know. And that this world is surreal sometimes ( Read more... )