It’s bitter. Tastes a lot like winter. And will it release me?
Darid 14, 1513
Lianne closed her eyes, breathing in the intoxicating smell of roses in bloom, even though the pavilion overhead kept the worst of the sun off, the warm light was a palpable pressure, like the soft hand of a lover, not the cruel task master that it would be in just a few weeks most likely. It was so rare anymore, with the children grown or very nearly, that she had time to sit in her own garden and host a tea party. It seemed to happen so fast.
Surely just a few days ago her little Vivi, now a bright vivacious young woman, one who would make a wonderful bride for Prince Nathaniel if she would just stop being so stubborn, had been a little girl in a violet and white sprigged dress, begging her to stop her research to play teaparty with her dolls. Or to not go to court so they could pick flowers in the wildflower gardens. If only Lynnette didn’t need her so often! Maybe they could have done that more often.
“When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all.”
Darid 1, 1513 – River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion
“Mama!” Raven tried to ignore her daughter for a moment as she juggled two bottles of hard cider and a plate of rarebit around the chair and onto the table. “Mama, he’s doing it again!”
“Is he still wearing clothes?” Raven asked cracking the cap off the bottle on the table.
“…Aye.” Anna-Marie said from her place somewhere behind Raven’s left shoulder.
“You say we’ll soar like two birds through the clouds, but soon you’ll cage me on your shelf – I’ll never learn to be just me first by myself.”
Imsdyn 20th, 1513 – River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion
The only sounds for a moment was the soft call of a mocker-bird in the yard and the soft splash of water in the basin, but that would change shortly. There was someone on the other side of the whitewashed kitchen door and soon enough that she would start speaking again. Annette had already put off listening to her talk for long enough.
“Are you sure you don’t need help, Annette?” It was funny, Tawny’s speaking voice would be wonderful if it just didn’t have that petulant whine to it. If life had dealt her another hand, made her someone other than the third trophy wife of a man whose only accomplishment was avoiding drafts enough to still be alive at this point in time.
“Got these chains hanging around our necks, people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.”
Imsdyn 10th, 1513 – Fitz-Chivalry estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion
Marianne brushed nervously at the horse hair that still clung to the skirt of her blue riding habit. “We just got back from our riding lesson.” Vivianne pointed out, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. “No one is going to expect us to be completely spotless.”
Warning: Bare toddler butt
“Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame…”
Imsdyn 7th, 1513 – River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion
The early morning light, thin and spiteful, barely scratched at the weathered parchment stretched over the small window. It would be so easy to ignore the light creeping in, to roll over and go back to sleep. Except now that the light had given it’s cue, there were a hundred other minor discomforts that would make pulling the gray fog back over his head like a blanket impossible. There was an errant piece of straw poking up from his mattress, jammed somewhere into his thigh near something he might eventually want to make use of. Something else was informing him it was time to go find the privy. His shoulders and neck were telling him they needed to move if he wanted to use them any time today they needed to be relieved of their own pressures.