• Memory • [Warrick] Babysitting

Oliver, please.

The seven Duchies of Central Rynmere and their respective baronies, cities, towns, villages, and landmarks each overseen by a Duke of one of the seven noble families and ultimately controlled by the King of Rynmere.

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Charlie Warrick
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Tue Dec 05, 2017 11:16 pm

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7th Vhalar 705
Fort Warrick


"But I'm old enough to be left alone!" cried Charlie, her arms folded in front of her chest as she stared fiercely at her mother. Alice Warrick sighed and passed a hand over her hair, immaculately coifed and ready for the morning's proceedings. "If Ethan were free--"

"Yes, if Ethan were free, you could train with him," interrupted her mother with an exasperated tone. "But he's not, and no matter what you say, fourteen is too young to be left alone, with all the servants getting ready for the meeting today. And it will do you good to meet the sons and daughters of House Venora. They will be your contemporaries, when you grow up. Now go, and get ready."

Charlie stared at her mother, her mouth gaping for a moment as she tried her hardest to find a loophole, but though Charlie was the one formidable with a bow, her mother was formidable with words. "Fine," she muttered, before turning to run up the stairs and get ready for the day. She did not see her mother look up the stairs with a fond but frustrated expression.

Charlie followed her parents into the meeting hall, Violet trailing behind her as well. She could see her sister stiffen with excitement as she met eyes with a friend of hers, but Charlie had few friends amongst the noble children. Briefly, she scowled, thinking of the archery field at home, but her father began to speak and her attention was demanded of her again.

"My Lord Venora," greeted Victor Warrick. "How good of you to come to us to-trial. I hope you find your visit profitable and pleasurable." Charlie knew they were discussing economics, something of imports and exports - something she had no interest in. The women exchanged greetings, and then the Lord Venora caught Charlie's eye. "I see you brought your children, Lord Victor. Perhaps they can entertain one another while we conduct business?"

Victor held back a smirk, but Charlie knew him well enough to tell. He was amused because entertaining Charlie was definitely a hands on job/ "Of course. May I introduce my daughters, Charlotte and Violet?" Quick words were exchanged, and Violet ran off to play with her friend, with Jonathon finding the hand of a nurse. As her father and mother went with the Venorans into an adjacent room, Charlie found herself lost - in a brilliant white dress, hair coifed, and feeling thoroughly out of place.[/color]
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Oliver Venora
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Wed Dec 06, 2017 7:07 am

"Memory"
Indigo eyes shot a scathing look at the older Venora, one who'd grown accustom to the lifestyle he'd lived. It was true, Manu Venora was a Biqaj, and a wanderer at heart, but he'd found his true love in the lap of luxury and it was showing. Garbed in an exquisite suit, Manu looked every bit the statesmen he'd grown to be. Though his wife was the trueborn, he had taken to the position with grace and ease. He'd spent a lifetime talking to those he met, swapping stories for favours and the like. Why should it have been any different?

"Do not act like such a child, Oliver, it's unbecoming of your status," the man said, garnering a sharp inhale from his son as it fell from his mouth. Turning with a lopsided grin, the same that had wooed Kalani all those arcs ago, Manu paused. The grin slowly faded from his face as Oliver glowered at him, anger simmering behind the dark indigo eyes. Immediately, the pale blue of Manu's eyes darkened to the same shade, a familial trait of indigo irises for anger, and he frowned at his son. Sighing, disarmed, he turned back to the mirror. The suit covering him was expertly tailored to show off the physique he honed every trial by swimming laps in the pool at Notrerevé, and he ran a tanned hand laden with jewelry over his face to smooth any stray hairs that may have tried to run amok.

"I am not acting like a child, Father. I simply believe that I am old enough to attend the meetings in which I had a hand in organizing. Am I truly expected to watch others consume the sweet fruits of my labours from afar? Surely, that's absurd." The words were eloquent, as his father had expected, but only elicited a shrug from Manu.

"Melodrama is the sign of the witless, Oliver," his father commented, indicating the conversation was finished. Still glaring, Oliver nodded and back from the room, leaving his father to finish getting ready. As he exited, he bumped into a servant walking to the carriage carrying a light blanket. His mother often got cold on longer trips, and she liked to have something to keep her comfortable. Seeing it was the carriage driver, Oliver's anger abated, and he sighed.

"My apologies, Gustauv. I was not looking where I was going," he began, but the servant just nodded and smiled, dismissing his carelessness. Oliver helped him finish loading the carriage, for what else was there to do when duty expected him to travel but inexperience forbade him from participating? Why not do the menial labour of the men they paid to do such, since it was all he had left after being stripped of performing his talents for his family's benefit.

The carriage ride was comfortable, sure, but it did nothing to brighten Oliver's mood. Instead, staring out the window with golden-green eyes, Oliver allowed his mind to wander. As a child, they'd traveled all the duchies, learning the baronies and their constituents. Oliver received top marks in knowing which barony in which duchy exported which materials, and he'd kept that knowledge and wielded it during his teenage years to entice his father into making deals where they may not have been made. Of course, Oliver supposed that his father would have struck the same deals, but the idea that he'd influenced the decision was enough to keep him satisfied. Momentarily.

But it was that knowledge which truly allowed his imagination to work on long carriage rides such as this one. In the recesses of his mind dwelled the dramatic and beautiful, the poet's gift for phrases that he kept hidden unless necessary. It was an art form, of course, but one that was not looked upon favourably among the nobles. Sculptors were masculine artists, whose constructs were massive and head. Poets, their words were light and airy, indicative of a flowery soul and a body whose true strength was in its mental capacity. Though, very few would say that to Oliver's face, as his ability with the rapier more than showed the wit in his writing was truly his secondary strength. As they passed through the ripe fields of Venora, whose wheat and barleys were being reaped, the golden waves piqued his creativity.
Watching as his mother and father made their rounds, Oliver's dark scowl scanned the room. Many of the others, he knew, whether by acquaintance or merely by name. Victor Warrick, two daughters and a son, hand outstretched for his father's. Indigo eyes found one daughter, trotting towards another noble girl her own age, and then the son, whose nurse was leading him to play with the wooden blocks supplied to keep the children busy. But the oldest daughter, she appeared much the same as he did. Releasing a single chuckle, he made his way towards his father, hissing in the man's ear.

"You have relegated me to the status of child, waiting for his parents to finish their business while entertained by finger sandwiches and gossip," Oliver muttered, heard only by Manu. Manu, whose countenance was often relaxed, tensed as he turned to his son, jaw clenched like he'd been stung by a wasp.

"I will relegate you to the status of exiled beggar if you do not act your age, qu'oat. Go find a skirt to chase, or a phrase to turn," Manu replied, leaving Oliver with a stinging sense of resentment. Grunting, Oliver spun off, stomping off in the direction of the Warrick girl. Passing by her, indigo eyes landed on hers briefly, fire burning behind them to give them a near ethereal glow. Breezing by her, she felt the gust of his passing and smelled the curious scent of burning oak and rose petals, a scent he'd had designed specifically for him by a perfumery in Bellesoir. Sliding through the open door into the gardens, he paused just outside it to take in a breath of fresh air, trying to calm his lightning nerves.
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Wed Dec 06, 2017 7:34 am

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Biting her lip, she looked around the room with a scowl. Violet had her friends, Jonathon had his blocks, and Charlie had not even registered the Venoran child yet, as he hung back to whisper in his father's ear. Instead, she could only look around the room and think - this was a waiting room. It was where those who were not yet important enough were kept while others made decisions that would affect them all. Violet, in her youth, was content to gossip with her friends, and Jonathon too young to understand the nature of this visit, but Charlie knew what this meant. Charlie knew that her parents were making decisions that would affect her in arcs to come.

A sense of impotence washed over her as she stood in the middle of the room, watching her parents lead the Venoran lords into their meeting chamber. There, there would be wine and cheese, barbed compliments meant to provoke a response, where every word was a move of a chess piece. And what did Charlie get? A room filled with the babble of children. It was, as she had complained to Ethan, why she wished to go into the military. There, she could feel as if she were doing something. Every action had a reaction. An arrow to a chest caused death, an advancement on enemy lines spelled a loss or a win. Not this bandying of words that could have hidden outcomes that would not make themselves apparent for seasons to come. Here, in this purgatory, her heart felt tight with impatience.

Lost in her frustration, a swirling world of red and lost thoughts, she barely noticed the movement of the boy that pushed past her, but the scent roused her from her reverie. He smelt like a forest of roses on fire, and Charlie barely even had the chance to tell him to watch where he was going, as he pushed his way past her and out a side door. He was going into their garden; a sacred place for Charlie, with a small fountain in the middle and grass kept green and growing. Irritation coiled at her. That was her garden, hers. No one else seemed to make use of it, though it was at the centre of their home, and if they did it was only a thoroughfare to somewhere more important. Only Charlie seemed to appreciate the importance of the quiet in the busy home; Charlie and Ethan, where they would spend breaks talking and laughing, sitting close, letting their hands brush shyly against one another. A beat, and Charlie followed the scent of the fire out into her safe space.

The boy stood there, breathing deep with heaving shoulders. She should really say a man, but she judged him to be younger than Ethan, and he was Charlie's benchmark. Charlie let the door swing closed with a thud behind her, a warning to the boy. "Oliver Venora, yes?" she asked, softly, with no formality. He was older than her, but that did not mean he deserved her deference. Like her, she had been shut out of the proceedings. "I am Charlie. This is my garden," she said, sweeping a hand across the green. He had not even so much as looked at her, but there was a fierce protectiveness inside of her. This was her space, with her Ethan, and he did not get to sour it with his poor mood.

"Are you alright?" she asked, cocking her head. By the hunch of his shoulders, something was off, and Charlie could not help but feel slightly frustrated at that. "Would you like to sit?" Without even waiting for a response, Charlie moved into the middle of the grass and sat. Alice would likely yell at her later - grass stains on her white dress - but she could not bring herself to invite Oliver to the bench. That spot was for her and her love alone. "Sit," she said, before pulling grass between her fingers, looking up at the boy. His brow was furrowed, his features dark, and Charlie was bewildered as to what had frustrated him so. After all, he didn't have to come.
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Oliver Venora
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Wed Dec 06, 2017 8:32 am

"Memory"
Rivulets of incandescence, luminous in their dimness, led me from the path I so clearly walked and into the mysterious unknown of your love. I have not since looked back.

The line turned over in Oliver's mind, as it always did when he was upset and trying to calm himself down. Written by a famous Ryn poet named Zellus Telmaran, the poem told the story of a bard whose boldness took him into the arms of a woman he'd never have approached. It was the first poem that Oliver had ever read, and he'd never forgotten that first line of the first stanza. By the dimness of his doubt, he found in the darkness a glow that carried him to the happiness he was too afraid to grasp himself.

The garden was beautiful, truly. Though the Venora kept the most perfectly manicured gardens in the Kingdom, there was a nostalgia in this one that overwhelmed the Venora, though he'd set no feet here before. In the cool Vhalar air hung the desperation of the foliage to fulfill its purpose, to bloom fully and allow its pollen to rejuvenate for the coming cold. There was the looming sense of change and decay, where the greens would turn to browns and they would crunch underfoot. This, though, the calm before, the quiet acceptance of the natural cycle of its existence.

Cyclical. That's what life was, Oliver mused. It was a circle. He understood in that moment that his father's words inside stung him not because they were sharp, but because they were accurate. They pierced his armour of wit by finding a chink of truth, and invading the space to fill the hole. Oliver had worked hard on securing the Venoran involvement in the ball inside, but he should not expect to be patted on the back for doing his job. It was not exemplary work, merely work done well to its purpose. It was immature of the boy to expect exaltations where others got placations, simply because he felt entitled to more. Sighing in resignation, he leaned against the doorframe. His eyes changed from the dark indigo hue, slowly spreading from the inside outward like a nova to a wet-earth brown. Breathing in the cooling air, filling his lungs until they begged for exhalation, Oliver let out a whoosh that sent with it all the anger and resentment he had towards his father.

Behind him, he sensed someone rapidly approaching, and his body tensed in anticipation of an attack. When none came, and the Warrick girl rounded into his peripheral vision, he relaxed visibly, still maintaining the rigid posture of one whose entire life was spent learning how to 'straighten your back, boy! You don't shovel shit for a living!' Smiling, his straight teeth perfect, Oliver nodded at her question.

"Yes, My Lady. Oliver Venora. And you are Charlotte, yes?" His demeanor was open and approachable now, less the angry and spited youth and more the trained statesman. His smile was charming, one of his best qualities, and he attached it firmly to his face in light of the company he'd just gained.

"Your garden? As in, you tend it yourself?" He smiled coyly, a wink closing one dark eye as she made her way off the stone porch and onto the lush grass. For such grass to be as healthy as it was that late in the season, some sorcery had to be involved. Not that Oliver was complaining. If one was going to use magic, might as well use it to beautify the surroundings to make them more aesthetically pleasing.

"Never been much of a gardener myself, though I have spent countless breaks in them. Fresh air feeds the soul, I find." He moved to follow her at her insistence, though he'd rather not sit on the grass in his attire. Much like his father, his suit had been painstakingly tailored to fit his form, lithe and long, so that it moved with him well. The shirt underneath the sable jacket was a stark white, lending immaculate contrast to the outfit, with a wine-red tie shoring them together. The suit had cost quite a few nels, and he would not sully that purchase by sitting on the ground. However, he did not want to appear rude to the baroness-to-be, so he smiled politely and held his arms out.

"I would like to stand, if that is all the same to you. I'd rather smell the leaves than the dirt." He chuckled at his joke, eyes shining as he made contact with the girl's. She was wearing a pretty dress, no doubt now with green streaks as accents on the bottom. The Warrick girls were all known for being rough-and-tumble, and Oliver had expected no less from one. Still, though, he could not help but comment on the situation.

"I suppose the launderer must love your trial," he quipped, the witty smirk once again finding its way onto his face. He took a step around her, examining a flower directly behind her. He nearly pulled it to give it to her, instead deciding that giving her her own flower would likely not go over well.

"I was unnecessarily upset. I am better now, though, thank you for asking. Your parents have a estate. The cucumber sandwiches looked particularly appetizing." He smiled, polite still. He did not want to offend the girl in her own home, but he could not sit on the ground. Looking towards the bench, he pointed.

"You know, this bench is perfectly fine for sitting, should you not wish to be reprimanded for sullying your fine garments," he mused, the corners of his lips pulling up into that same cheeky smile.
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Sat Dec 09, 2017 4:10 am

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Charlie pulled tufts of grass out from underneath her before she caught herself, her heart sinking in disappointment. It was a childish idleness, and she should have grown out of fidgeting by now. Looking down, she could see the brown soil kept watered by the servants, and her lips twisted unhappily. A mar on her perfect garden. Charlie pulled her hands back and folded them in her lap, but even now she could not help but fidget at a piece of loose skin at her thumb. It was unlike Charlie to sit still and wait, and her body recoiled at the expectation.

"No, I do not tend it," she bit back, her brow furrowed. His nicety and charm was not lost on her, and had she been any other girl, it would have likely worked on her. But today Charlie wished to be anywhere else, and the political game grated on her. "Nevertheless, it is mine. I appreciate it, and I come here, and I love it. Is that not enough for me to call it my place, my sanctum?" Charlie cocked an eye at the man. "You're welcome," she added petulantly, ever the fourteen year old. "I could kick you out right now, send you back into the waiting room with those cucumber sandwiches you seem so fond of, but I suppose I can let you stay."

"My name is Charlie, by the way." Her hands still fiddled at themselves, sitting and looking up at Oliver, but she did not feel at a disadvantage. "Not Charlotte." It was, of course, Charlotte, and she knew that must have been how she had been explained to the Venorans, but she'd be damned if she let this smooth man call her that. Not even Ethan called her Charlotte; no one close to her did. It was not a name that suited her, she thought. "I can call you Oli, if you'd prefer," she teased, but somehow she knew the man would not appreciate it.

Charlie was about to respond, mock him for his deference, for his stilted words, but then he gestured at the marble bench, and her heart twisted. "No!" she burst out, jumping up and stepping forward. Her dress billowed around her as she moved lithely, betraying the inevitable grass streaks that had made their way into the fabric, but she paid them no heed. Abandoning all decorum - not that she had had much to begin with - she grabbed the fabric of his sleeve and tugged him away. "Not there. Not that seat." Her eyes danced around, looking for somewhere else, until she spied the concrete rim of a garden.

"Here," she said, pulling Oliver unceremoniously with her, before sitting down on the lowered concrete edge. "There. No bench, but no grass stains." Her cheeks were flushed red, but she could not look at him, and nor would she apologise. "Yes," she continued as if nothing had happened. "The famed cucumber sandwiches. My aunt Augusta loves them." She bit the inside of her cheek and chanced a glance at Oliver, the slightest smile on her lips. It was a rapid change of emotion, and it was any wonder if Oliver could keep up.

"How old are you?" she asked pointedly, her eyes scanning his fanciful clothes. "You act like my uncle. But unless you've some painting you're drawing eternal life from, you cannot yet be twenty. After all, they didn't let you into the meeting chamber, did they?" Her eyes twinkled with mirth. There was just something about his carefully crafted exterior that Charlie wanted to break. The fakeness of politics grated on her, and they were not in a meeting room - they were simply two children stuck waiting.
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Oliver Venora
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Mon Dec 11, 2017 5:14 am

"Memory"
Many faces have come and past, fleeting in their briefness. Yet in your arms I spent my bits, countless breaks so many I lost track.

The younger girl fidgeted, but Oliver did not judge her. He understood the perils of being a teenager on the cusp of adulthood, teetering the precarious edge between childhood and responsibility. He remembered all too well his father sitting him down and explaining to him after his twelfth birth trial that being a man meant something among the nobility, and Oliver had no reason to suspect it was any different for the women. Charlotte would one trial, feasibly, have the Barony to run, and she needed to be groomed just as much as Oliver. Except the tomboyish girl did not seem interested in the politics or the game, like Oliver was. Instead, she enjoyed the dirt, the grass, the carefreeness of a girl instead of the etiquette of a woman. In many ways, Oliver envied her that. Time had not yet wrought havoc on the girl's outlook, and though she was defiant, she was vibrant.

"I can grant you that, Lady Warrick. Just because one does not toil in the fields does not grant them any less right to enjoy its fruits. Should you consider this pleasant garden your sanctum, you and I would find something in common. I too often find sanctum in my garden. Both myself and my sister, in fact," he stated, smiling at Charlie. Tilting his head at her quick and brash response, he only chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"Charlie it is, then. Though I should express my thoughts; Charlotte is a very beautiful and dignified name. Befitting a queen," he said politely, smiling in his eyes. Though she was not as ladylike as Darcyanna, she was not so tomboyish that Oliver guessed she'd forgo the familial trade. Instead, he simply complimented her and went on, pausing as she lurched forward to stop him from sitting on the bench. Perking his left eyebrow, Oliver eyed her suspiciously. He could not have guessed at the seat's significance, but he thought it ill advised to argue with Lady Warrick in her own garden. An amused light in his eyes, he allowed the young girl to drag him to the concrete, where he crouched.

"You are welcome to call me Oli, should you prefer, Charlie. Only my sister calls me Oli, though I am unsure if she would take issue with another doing so. I would think not, but I also do not pretend to understand the mind of a young, family or no." He winked slyly, rubbing his hands together as she asked him his age. Souring only slightly, Oliver quickly quelled the rising anger he had suppressed, instead smiling at Charlie again, his straight white teeth shining in the dimming light.

"I am eighteen this arc, though my father should be informed here before long. I helped organize the Venoran involvement in the affair, yet I am excluded. Though, perhaps it is for my own good. Had I been allowed inside, I would be surrounded by stuffy adults all speaking in double entendre whilst pretending I do not understand their not-so-clever attempts at sexual humour. Instead, I am having a delightful conversation with a pretty young girl with a strong, regal name. I suppose I have gotten the better end of the deal, right?" He asked, smiling from ear to ear. Leaning back, he looked back at the bench, considering asking about it. Opening his mouth, he thought better of it, and exhaled instead. Looking at her, he nodded towards the house.

"And what brings you to the gardens this evening, Charlie? You have surmised my reasoning, but here you are, wasting your precious time with the likes of me, an adult not-adult reject." He smiled, clearly able to make fun of his own misfortune. His dark eyes lightened a bit in colour as they observed the girl.
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Tue Dec 12, 2017 3:44 am

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"I don't want to be a queen," Charlie announced decidedly, her nose wrinkling at the concept. Perhaps she should have kept her thoughts to herself, but she couldn't help but let the thoughts tumble out of her. "I'll be a Baroness one day," she continued, "and that's enough for me. At least as Baroness I can still get out to the field and train. If I were Queen I'd have to sit inside all day in stuffy dresses and talk to irritating men who insist on calling me My Lady and drinking wine. Have you tried wine?" Her thoughts changed rapidly, looking at Oliver curiously. "I have. I don't like it very much. It tastes alright for a moment and then it burns the back of your tongue. I've tried beer, though, and I like that. It tastes like bread. I like bread." Charlie nodded decidedly, as if confirming her words to herself.

Charlie squinted suspiciously at his smile. His teeth were white and perfect. Perhaps he didn't like beer. From what she had seen of the commoners, most beer drinkers had stained yellow teeth. Her eyes widened as she realised that if she drank too much beer, her teeth would be the same. Maybe just stick to bread, she thought, frowning. She'd have to ask Ethan what he thought. He'd know the answer.

"If you call me Charlie, I can call you Oli. But you have to write to me if it turns out your sister doesn't want you to call me that. Okay?" Her tone was fierce. The thought of hurting anyone, upsetting anyone, in any way, was abhorrent to her. "I don't mind either way. As long as you don't call me Charlotte. It's a silly name." She shook her head as if clearing her head of the thoughts that went round and round, a hundred miles an hour. Charlie's mind was an active place, and it was only at the archery range that it ever seemed to stay quiet.

Charlie looked at Oliver intensely as he spoke, as if she were hanging on every word. She liked to listen to people. She thought perhaps people did not listen to others enough. A lot of misunderstandings could be avoided, she thought, if only people would listen. "You're right," she said, nodding. "Eighteen is pretty old. You should be allowed in there. But it doesn't seem very fun to me, I think. It sounds like you care a lot about it, though. That's good. I think it's important to have something you care for. Maybe next arc, they'll let you into the meeting room. Then you can listen to all the sexual humour you could desire." Charlie giggled, shaking her head. She was not, perhaps, as innocent to such topics as one might expect. In fact, she liked to think she could keep up with the best of them...

"I don't think I'm wasting my time," she protested, but then cocked her head and thought better of it. "Well, I do, actually." Honest was important. "All the children in there are young and boring. Mama usually lets me stay at home, so I can train with Ethan, but tonight he had ... something or other. I'm not sure what. But he was busy, so I had to come here and wear this awful dress." Charlie sighed, leaning forward onto her shoulders, her eyes fixed on the bench across the garden.

"It's not so bad," she admitted quietly, shrugging. It was almost as though she was talking to a figure on the bench, not Oliver beside her. "I don't actually hate this. I think I could be a good baroness, and I think I'd do good things for Warrick." Ethan would have protested. Ethan thought she should abdicate, but Charlie wouldn't do that to her family. In fact, she wanted one day to be baroness. "But I also want to be able to do what I want, too. I want to be a Skyrider," she said, looking at Oliver, her voice suddenly fierce.

"I want to soar amongst the skies on my very own jacodon. I want to help people. Save them from bandits and war. But... right now..." Charlie shrugged. "A lot of people my age are already training as squires for the Skyriders, and I ... I'm not ready." She shrugged, but it was clear it bothered her. "Because I have tutors and lessons and preparation for being a baroness, I can't do what I really want to do. So I'm just ... stuck in the middle." Charlie picked at the skin of her thumb until it bled. She watched the blood pool against the nail, almost fascinated. Without thinking, she wiped it on her dress, leading a blood trail to match the grass stains on the white fabric.

"It's pretty shit," she said suddenly, and then laughed at her own daring decision - swearing in front of the noble boy.
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Wed Dec 13, 2017 6:36 am

"Memory"
Her language caught him off guard, prompting the older noble to stare at her blankly for a second. The look of brazen defiance on her face was one that Darcy would have, and after a few trills of stunned silence, he grinned. Running a hand through his hair, he rocked back and laughed, deep from within his belly. It felt good to laugh; it wasn't something he did often anymore. It reminded him of when he was a child, and his father would tell him jokes from his times on the seas. After a moment, though, his laugher died down and he looked earnestly at the young girl.

"The one thing I have learned from my time around the stuffy nobles that precede me is that the court is not for everyone. If you want to be a part of the game, be a part. If not, take to the skies. You have got a good head on your shoulders, Charlie. If your dream is to fly... Fly. Oliver smiled at her, genuine truth in his eyes. They melted to a iron grey, shining more towards the bottom. He reached out and ruffled her hair, nodding.

"For me, assuming the seat in Bellesoir is my destiny. My mother and father will grow older, and they will wish to retire to a sunnier region, perhaps Nekhet. Father always liked the beaches," he mused, more talking out loud than to Charlie. "I suppose then it will be my time, and I intend to be prepared. I will have to take a wife, father children, and continue the cycle in the name of Venora. We are not the family directly in line, but should misfortune fall my House, I will be prepared to take its helm and lead it back to the glory Lady Cyrene bestowed upon us."

Smiling, he leaned back on his elbows. A delighted sigh escaped his lips, and he looked over at the younger girl. She'd mentioned her trainer, Ethan, and Oliver recognized the way she said his name. Girls with crushes were often not sly about their choices, and it was no wonder she'd been attracted to him. Ethan was, Oliver reasoned, her greatest chance at finding what she truly desired: A career as a Skyrider.

"As a Warrick, you know you have the best chance at becoming a Skyrider. I think that is a truly admirable goal, Charlie," he said earnestly, a sober look clouding his face. "More admirable than being a politician. Though, it has its perks." He grinned mischievously.

"My sister, Pythera, she want to be a knight. Or rather, a warrior. I doubt very much that she has the chivalrous code that dictates a knight. She trains endlessly with weapons, and cares more about adding dirt under her fingernails than removing it. She wants to be a Skyrider too, though she is far too young to take up such endeavors. I think Mother and Father will let her, if only to get her out of the house and out of their hair..." He trailed off, once again speaking like Charlie wasn't there. The iron grey of his eyes pooled into a solemn purple, resting there as he recalled his vicious sister. Oliver wondered if Thera would end up one of the bandits promoting anarchy that Charlie hoped to stop.

"She is... She was born to be a warrior. For good or bad."

Looking back towards the house, Oliver saw the unmistakable form of his father shade the window, knowing the man was looking out in search of him. Brushing off his knees, he stood to his full height, offering the Warrick girl with the stained dress a manicured hand.

"It has been lovely talking to you, Lady Warrick. I would very much like for our paths to cross once again in the future. For now, though, Father calls." And sure enough, the Rakahi-twang of Manu's voice echoed out over the gardens, carrying with it Oliver's name. Middle included. "It seems I am missed. Finally."
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Thu Dec 14, 2017 6:23 am

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Charlie worried at her lip, worried she might have gone too far, and then - laughter. Deep and honest, like water from a well. Charlie couldn't help but match him; laughter poured from her lips too, and died down naturally as he did. Her cheeks were flushed, and she, looking at him, decided she liked the way his eyes changed colour. It was another form of honesty, she supposed. Charlie liked that.

"But I want to do both!" Charlie protested, her cheeks reddening when he reached out and tousled her hair. Ethan did that sometimes, too, but this felt different. Not lesser, just different. "I can do both. Watch me. I'm good at getting what I want," she said, grinning at Oliver. Charlie thought that although he acted all proper and stiff, courtly, even, that there was something inside of him that just wanted to have fun. Charlie was good at having fun, and maybe that's what Oliver needed.

"I think you'll be good at it, if that helps," Charlie offered, smiling, even as her nose wrinkled at the idea of marrying and having children. But that's what nobles did, and she knew that one day she'd be expected to do that too. Hopefully, by then, she would be General and able to marry Ethan and no one would say anything about it. There were perks to being in power, she supposed, looking over at the bench she had occupied so many afternoons with, nearly holding Ethan's hand. Only recently had they kissed, and Charlie liked it so much she truly hoped they'd do it again. A lot. Maybe babies wouldn't be such a bad thing, with Ethan.

"Thank you," Charlie said, blushing, satisfied at the validation. She knew she could do it. And Oliver thought so, too. That made three people, now - herself, Ethan, and Oli. Soon she'd convince everyone else. Charlie was about to speak again, but Oliver continued. And there was a strange tone in his voice, as he spoke of his sister, that she didn't understand, and couldn't recognise. Charlie cocked her head, at a loss of what to say. "Maybe one day we'll train together," she offered, smiling in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

She startled for a moment, as Oliver rose, then shook herself, taking his hand. It was warm and smooth, not calloused like hers. She flushed again,
smiling. "It was really nice to meet you, Oliver... Oli." Charlie blushed, looking down at her dress, before grinning at him again. "I hope next time your father listens to you. You seem to know what you're doing." Charlie watched Oliver walk away, disappear back into the house. She hoped they let him into the meeting. Taking a deep breath and one last look at her bench, Charlie turned and followed him inside.

Her mother was waiting with Violet and Jonathon. "There you are!" she called, as Charlie made her way over to them. Her mother looked at her, frowning amusedly at her blood and grass stained dress. “Are you glad you came, Charlie?” She asked. Charlie thought for a moment of colourful eyes, Oliver ruffling her hair, and those words… fly. “Yeah,” Charlie said, grinning. “Yeah, I am.”
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[Warrick] Babysitting

Thu Dec 14, 2017 8:13 pm

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0 points in gardening on your profile, you godmodding hoe D:

Baby Oliver really, really, really likes those cucumber sandwiches, eh? Third time I've seen them mentioned.

Anyway, enjoyed this thread quite a bit. Charlie doesn't get to squire, Oliver doesn't get to adult, nobody gets to be what they want - except for Pythera, forever spoken of but only glimpsed, like a bond baddie-in-training.
@Daisy

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XP: 15/15

Loot/Injuries/Overstepping

Nu

Knowledge

Skill Knowledge
Detection: Recognising scents
Detection: Listening carefully
Discipline: Recognising childish habits
Interrogation: Asking point blank questions
Persuasion: 'Old enough' doesn't count
Persuasion: Commands don't always work
Politics: Dressing appropriately for functions
Politics: House Venora
Politics: Wine is essential to meetings

Other Knowledge:
Alice Warrick: Mother
Victor Warrick: Father
Violet Warrick: Sister
Jonathon Warrick: Brother
Oliver Venora: Is proper
Oliver Venora: Has a sister
Oliver Venora: Likes the name Charlotte
@Oliver

Points

XP: 15/15

Loot/Injuries/Overstepping

Nu

Knowledge

Skill Knowledges:
Etiquette: Maintaining composure in public
Etiquette: Politeness first, always
Persuasion: Pouting is not an effective tactic
Politics: Attending parties for appearances' sake
Politics: Knowing House Warrick
Politics: Dressing appropriately for functions
Politics: Addressing nobility by their titles
Politics: Knowing your family's position in succession

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Charlie Warrick: Charlie, not Charlotte
Charlie Warrick: Wants to be a Skyrider AND a baroness
Charlie Warrick: Wants to fly
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