Fluttering

[someome 2053]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

A quiet creaking carries through the Manor in the early hours of the morning, and with such the man pushes himself up from his sleep, rubbing his face as he stood from his bed. A figure remained asleep within the furs atop it, and he'd leave them there to awake properly, not at the skewed hours he did. A wooden lynx stirred and followed him out as he took down the stairs, and to the Perch.

 

Simple strolls through across the property lended him knowledge he needed. The vineyard grew well, the small facilities people took to seemed fine. Dew adorned the grass and was broken beneath clunking boots as he'd step into the Brewery. A figure in the distance at the shore, likely Myrrha practicing night-swimming in the safer hours so close to light. He watches for a moment before shutting the door and tending to the work within.

 

Idle work on the stills and hefting kegs to and from, the mind considers the years gone by. Many mistakes, old and new, and things to consider going forward. Things that had been done and could not be taken back. A foot pressed open the tavern doors as he settled new kegs behind the shelves, and noticed a pot already on the fire. A large bounding mass of white hair darting around outside.

 

 

The sky coats itself in cloudy furrows, and light starts to break through. A final crate of wine is hauled into the Tavern, and organized thusly, with labels smoothed onto each as the Grey-Man organized them in place. Rhaella was already outside, blanket slung over her shoulders and calling for Myrrha to finally dry off and come in, only to receive a chorus of laughing.

 

He pulls his gloves off and leaves them on the counter, stepping out back. The Newts scattered across the grounds, Leniandir goes rushing by with more spices and a chuckle. The roads away clattered loudly, as supply caravans headed up towards the Elvenesse with supplies. For living and rebuilding. The Tower creaked, but a child was coming. This was no safe place for such.

The Perch eeked awake. Nothing loud, nothing quiet. But a heart was beating.

 

What had been done was done, and what was to come could still be decided. It was simple enough but it took far longer than it should for the man to learn. He'd walk the perimeter once more thinking to himself quietly, and considering the days to come. The sleeping work beneath the property. The new faces and the ones soon to pass. He'd come to a stop in front of the Tavern, and creaked as he took a seat in a chair in front of the building.

 

 

A familiar fox darts through the brush as the day starts with a sun high up. The Tavern bustled with breakfast time, all awake well except for a drowsy Myrrha, who almost gets her hair in stew. People stop by for drinks and meals as they traveled to and from, and Valerica taps a mug against his cheek between all the work as he sat, filled to the brim with fresh coffee. There wasn't always business but that was okay. Sometimes the beer didn't turn out well, but that was okay. Sour wine. It was okay. 

 

That was it, wasn't it, as the mali'fenn leaned up against the chair and spoke with him softly, discussing plans for the coming days.

It all wasn't wonderful, and not always terrible. Sometimes it was just okay. And that's what this was now.

 

This was where he finally was again.

 

It was okay again.

 

 

Spoiler

OOC: headache go brr, been stuck in my chair a little more than usual so I tried writing a little again. Cheers!

 

[Royal Peasant 462]

"The Jingle of keyes rings the bells of the morn, and the dawn. 
The hearth crackles with memories of warmth, and memories of scorn. 
The sound of beasts, the scent of Rosemary and Thyme. 
The flowing clouds passing through the skies, carrying time."

"The heart beats, telling you you're alive. 
More faces to greet. More songs to sing. 
More drinks to ferry past eager lips. 
A future yet untold awaits.
And your feet will carry you too it."