Fresh Starts


Delsie Hawthorne

    Yellow Descent
  • witch
  • Played By: Jones

    Dena Nehele Terreille
    2 Posts    50 marks
Fresh Starts
« on: January 07, 2019, 09:18:09 PM »
Tongue troubling the inside of her teeth Delise put her bags down on the doorstep. Eyes turned down the lane as if she were judging the distance. A giddy sort of uncertainty twisted at the root of her stomach. This was the right place. There could be no doubt. Furry headed cows peered at her from the fence line as proof. But was this the right place for her?

Keen seemed of the opinion it should work fine. His friend needed housekeeping help, his sister wanted housekeeping work. Why not? She hadn’t had an answer. And felt foolish saying it made her nervous. They were only a hard run from the tent-town. You couldn’t see it from the farmhouse. It was on the other side of sloping hill. But she had walked herself there without growing tired.

”Hello?” She tapped at the door frame because the door was slightly ajar. A quaint house that reminded her of home. If it were hers she would have painted the front door yellow. It was such a happy color. Half the scarves that bubbled up out of her baggage were splashed with vibrant shades of the same. Clothes carried because her cabinet was not large enough to hold them, and her favorite cooking pans, and her sewing table, all at once.

Behind her a hearty ‘moo’ answered. She giggled at them over her shoulder, a small group of them gathered as if watching. The rest distance spots of rudy brown on crisp green grass. Land that felt so different from home. Healthy, in a way she hadn’t known Dena Nehele lacked. ”Hello, Lord Isay?” That was the name, she was pretty sure.

Denholme Islay

    Rose to Purple Dusk
  • Warlord
  • Played By: dergon

    Dena Nehele Terreille
    7 Posts    27 marks
Re: Fresh Starts
« Reply #1 on: January 09, 2019, 10:22:50 AM »

He wasn’t sure who had put the chimney together, but Denholme was very sure they’d had little to no idea what they were doing. Smoke seeped through cracks in the mortar and drifted around the roof beams. He thought there might already be a swallows nest inside of it too. He would have to climb the roof to be sure. For now he just needed the inside cracks to he filled properly before he suffocated.

That was what he was doing, currently. Bucket of thick cement between his feet and trowel in hand. Eyes squinting against the smoke, he stroked in new, smooth patches of mortar between coughing and cursing. He’d dampened the fire but he needed the smoke to find the holes. Not enough time to remortar the whole damn chimney.

”Islay.” He corrected. Wafting the smoke away with craft, Denholme wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Trowel sinking onto the mortar bucket, he turned over it carefully to see who was poking around in his... house. It was house of sorts. Not quite home yet. But his cows were here, and so was he. ”Its Islay. Who’re you?” Other than a half grown witch with a basket of... scarves.

Denholme was about to protest that he didn’t want any. Who had spare marks for scarves any how? No one he knew. The whole lot of them suddenly homeless or barely homed in a strange new territory. Bunch of winged people fluttering about issues orders in the guise of help. He didn’t like it. But then he remembered. He was supposed to be getting a hearth witch for his smokey hearth. So he didn’t kick her straight out, though he wanted to.

”You Hawthorne’s sister?” He had said she was grown. A woman. Denholme thought he must have been lying. What was he going to do with a girl in his house? Rather an old woman who didn’t weep when he kicked the door open and stormed through the house. Mother Night.

Delsie Hawthorne

    Yellow Descent
  • witch
  • Played By: Jones

    Dena Nehele Terreille
    2 Posts    50 marks
Re: Fresh Starts
« Reply #2 on: January 09, 2019, 01:57:46 PM »
”Lord Islay, then.” Delsie lifted her eyebrows at the warlord. Head cocking just a little to keep her eyes from rolling. Peering through the doorway she stood on tiptoe for a better view. Picking his figure out from the swirls of smoke. His question only made her eyebrows rise a little higher.

Was he forgetful or was Keen an absolute shit? Probably both. She wouldn’t put it passed her brother to send her along without warning his friend. Or acquaintance. Or whatever they were. ”Delsie.” She answered, hoping it would jog his memory. Instead he looked over her and her bags as if she had committed some offense.

It made her arms cross defensively over her chest. Standing there waiting on his judgement. Keen had said this fellow was a grump. Apparently he had not been exaggerating. On that bit. He had not been completely accurate with the rest... ”I am. He said you were old and impolite. Surprised, really, he was half right.”

Since he didn’t seem in a hurry to invite her inside Delsie did it herself. A bag in each hand, laid on the other side of the door. Just in case she had to grab them quickly on her way out. The house needed work. It still looked very empty. Far better, however, than the tent she was sharing with her mother and their old neighbor woman. Turning from the man to the mess he was making she tapped his bucket with the side of her foot.

”Chimney leaking?” She asked after puzzling the assortment of tools and the smoke overhead together. ”Why not shield your face instead of crying all over the place?” Bottom lip caught between her teeth and eyebrows knitted together she looked him over while waiting on his answer. Yellow twist the air in the room until it circulation enough to push the smoke out of the door. Easier than dissipating the lot when more would just replace it. The whole house would smell like smoke and wet cement. And she’d be on her knees picking the grit drops off the floor forever probably.

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