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 Posted: Mon Jul 20, 2009 3:53 pm
Nyx had never bothered with going to the grocery store much as a self-proclaimed bachelorette: most times, it was just easier to order take-out, and she could eat that for days. However, after adopting a child, things took a change for the different (whatever that meant) and Nyx found herself at the grocery store on a near weekly basis, purchasing all sorts of fruit snacks and other such kiddy things. Holly, of course, wanted nothing but cookies and ice-cream, and while Nyx would normally be the type to oblige in childish desires, she'd just recently watched a documentary on the dangers of candy and rotten teeth, and was still scared at even the slightest thought of plaque.
"Can I get out of the cart now?" Holly whined, prodding her mother with a plastic toothbrush they'd gotten in another aisle, along with four different types of toothpaste, all guaranteeing to fight away any tooth-ickies.
"Nono, Holly, we're almost done," Nyx cooed, her gaze focused on a package of corn-flakes that (of course) had been placed on the top shelf, just out of her reach. She stood on the tips of her toes, found her center, and stretched, but try as she might there was no reaching the errant food-holder. Well, now, wasn't that just peachy...
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2009 2:05 pm
Now, Imogen had yet to learn the distinction between what was socially acceptable and what wasn't; a walking faux pas, the small child seemed to define herself by her unseemliness. Indeed, the small girl had forthwith found solace in moving as far away from Cylar's grasping hands as possible, her feet scuffing gracelessly against the top shelf of a grocery aisle dedicated to breakfast eats. Cylar was huffing an unamused huff and Imogen was breathing a tuneless laugh, a common exchange between the pair, before the young Hiccup's attention rolled towards Holly with a far-away smile. She watched the tip-toe tussle with something akin to amusement, her smile unwavering as she began teetering towards the edge of the shelf; as if all too familiar, Imogen hooked her feet under the back and threw her body over the edge, grasping a box of corn-flakes and lowering her arms towards the struggling Hiccup.
Cylar was taking off his coat, conceding to hooking the garment around his daughter; and he was smiling until she threw her herself off the shelf, then he was just horrified. "Img, what, you can't, never--" he floundered, arms flapping and red-faced. Imogen's eyes were large and innocent, all cornflowers and dandelions.
"Well that was very polite of you," Cylar finished with acquiesce, suddenly looking ten years older.
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