Promise that forever we will never get better at growing up and learning to lie I’m on my way back home now. Good lives are gold, like the oldest story. Will mine be told while I’m still young and horney? I know my role is to be a confusion. Set the clock back when I’m growing old
Hybel 2nd, 1513 – Finessa Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion
Knowing it would be all too brief, but enjoying it all the more for the brevity, Firenze Finessa, known to most as “Squeak” pulled his wife a little closer to his side. It was a bright, sunny summer day, his younger three children were here, and they were expecting company in the form of old friends who’d be staying for a few days. If he thought about it that way he could almost forget all of the stress that came with why their company was coming, of what was happening here.
Love you so much. Can’t count all the ways, I’d die for you girl. And all they can say is “He’s not your kind.”
Seryl 10th, 1513 – Carico Estate, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion
“Vivi?” The only response to his inquiry was his sister slamming the library door. Severus sighed. He was beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with Vivi. Most of the time she was her usual smart, funny self–until their brother sent a letter, then she turned into this raging ball of angst and moped and pouted for days on end. No door was ever safe when she was in this mood. And being around the FitzChivalrys, or rather around Caroline, exacerbated it to almost dangerous levels.
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.