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 Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2012 4:23 pm
"I will not be too long, two hours at the most. Are you sure you don't want to come along?" the blue haired man looked down at the elegantly dressed red headed child. Odell, a local concert violinst and music tutor, was unsure he enjoyed the idea of leaving his newly "born" child alone for so long. She had not been in his care for that long so he was still overly protective of his little princess. But he had an appointment to keep and he was always on time.
"Papah I will be fine. I am sure they will have somthing lovely for me to read. Besides, I don't think I could take another scales lesson like the last one. My ears are still ringing," she smiled up at her father. Sensitive ears made some lessons very painful for her so she prefered to try and avoid them. Today's lesson was no different. Her father was over protective, but she knew it was because he did love her. She was papah's little princess and was expected to act as such.
When Samara had been "born" she had been quite the surprise to her father. But he had quickly adapted, teaching her proper manners of a young lady of society. Even though his background was a rural farm he would make sure his daughter was raised to be a young socialite.
"If you are sure. Make sure you keep the paper with the address just in case," he sighed softly and leaned down to hug her. Then he was off down the street to his lesson.
Samara shook her head, ringlets of ruby tresses moving around her face. Walking into the bookstore she looked at the map that told where all the types of books were. The little autumn princess saw an area for music and walked over. She was dressed like an autumn princess, a long red dress decorated along the waist and collar with flowers and sparkled with well placed glitter.
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Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 4:53 pm
There many things Venice did that Wren did not.
Eat properly, sleep at appropriate times, engage in social frivolities. Read.
Well, that was not all together true. Venice frowned, his fingers ghosting over the spines of books over and over again. Wren read, but when it came to his preference, it was mostly fiction. Romances. Hardly did he read anything of importance. Histories, biographies. Venice frowned. Nothing that taught him anything at all. And when he chose to learn something, he did it entirely be trial and error. If there was something to be said about the man, it was that he had an impeccable pigheadedness towards help.
Shifting the violin case on his back, Venice swept through the isles with an air of brisk dignity. Faintly bemused looks were cast his way here and there - "was that white hair?", "were those wings?" - but the aura Venice chose to shield himself with at that moment made it clear that he was not one to be detained from his task by the trivial matter of conversation. He browsed the sections layered with histories and biographies, but this bookstore only held those of a common caliber. Things he'd read before, or books that simply denoted the lives of far away baron's and baroness's. The disappointment, which at first had been almost palpable, now simply sat like a heavy weight in his gut. What he wanted more than bookstores were libraries full of fascinating, age-old text to read through and memorize. Histories of cultures long since lost, their existence only found now between pages kept carefully preserved.
But today, Venice was here. And here was where he would have to make do.
Abandoning hope for any interesting literature, the Dust moved with brisk authority onto the music section. Wren might have played the viola solely by memorization and trial and error, but he would not go down such a similar path. Yet, at least. The huntsman had been kind enough to teach him the basic form of the instrument, which Venice had taken to like a duck to water. The young Dust sighed out at the thought and brushed his fingers over the thin spines of folders collecting sheet music, considering which to spend coin on. His eyes lifted, however, at the sight - or perhaps the pull of presence - of another person heading for the section of books he now found himself at. His eyes dipped, giving a curt once over before he stepped back and allowed her room.
"Good afternoon." He said, his tone almost inquisitive beneath a layer of reservation. It was only polite after all, to give greetings, right?
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Posted: Sat Nov 17, 2012 8:37 pm
Samara got her own share of looks in the bookstore. Though most commented about the girl's pretty hair and her autumn themed barettes. But the leaves in her hair were not store bought decoration, they were real leaves she enjoyed putting her hair. They never seemed to turn brown or dry when she had them. Only when she let them sit out unused did they turn to the dry leaves all over the ground. Her bright green eyes complimenting her looks.
As she headed to the music section she felt the strange pull she sometimes felt around other children. Not all, ones who where speical like her. Her Papah said she was special and she always thought it was because she was his little princess. But lately she had begun to wonder. She felt the presence from a white haired boy whom addressed her politely. He seemed the intellectual type, one that enjoyed the smell of new books as much as the musty aroma of old ones.
His appearance did not even make her blink, her father had blue hair after all. Even if it was dyed that color, strange colored hair was not unusual to her. She gave the boy a polite curtsy and smiled. "Good afternoon. Are you looking for music books too?"
She was about to continue when she saw his violin case on his back. Her green eyes lit up with happiness as she looked to the boy. "Oh! Do you play too! My Papah is a violin player! He's teaching one of his pupils at the moment though!"
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