Aranhil smirked at the scratching at the door. Hoppy survived partially because he was so amusing. As much as he wanted to eat the rabbit, Aranhil was a little too entertained by him to do so. "Sylvia, open the door. I know how to open it even if you don't come do it for me, so you might as well. I'd hate to break your door or ruin your lock. Just come open the door. Alright? I brought food for your damn rabbit, so stop starving your pet." He knew that his wife had trouble resisting anything in regards to her rabbit. He was certain that she'd open the door if she thought it meant her rabbit was going to starve.
"Sylvia, I'm running out of patience." He warned her a moment later. The plate of food was kinda hot, and he was not enjoying having to hold onto it for so long. "Hurry up." He shook his head, annoyed by having to stand around like a servant. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, waiting to see if she was going to come get her door, or if he was breaking it open.
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Aranhil sat at the table, unsurprised that his wife had not shown up. She would fight like an elf. A quick strike, then run and hide. He thought to himself. That's how elves have always fought. Why would she be any difference? Strike hard and fast, then flee. She forgets how a dragon fights. I won't be cruel to her, though. She is my wife, I will not be fighting with her. She'll see that her little jabs and insults can not hurt me.
Satisfied that he was being the more mature of the two, the dragon prince focused on his meal. She would come to see that he was right sooner or later. The longer she wanted to isolate herself, the longer she could spend acting like a child. That was all on her. He ate his meal in peace, unconcerned by the gossip the maids were determined to spread. He realized part way though the meal, which today was braised rabbit, that perhaps it was good his wife had not attended. He was sure she would be quite upset to see one of Hoppy's relatives on her plate.
Aranhil got to his feet when he finished. Entering the kitchen, he grabbed a small basket. He put into it a piece of kale, some dandelion, and a few handfuls of whatever was growing in the lawn. Then he gathered a plate with last night's leftovers. They'd had venison last night, which he felt was safer to offer to his wife. Rather than sending a made, he himself went to her room and knocked. "Sylvia, open up. I brought dinner."
Satisfied that he was being the more mature of the two, the dragon prince focused on his meal. She would come to see that he was right sooner or later. The longer she wanted to isolate herself, the longer she could spend acting like a child. That was all on her. He ate his meal in peace, unconcerned by the gossip the maids were determined to spread. He realized part way though the meal, which today was braised rabbit, that perhaps it was good his wife had not attended. He was sure she would be quite upset to see one of Hoppy's relatives on her plate.
Aranhil got to his feet when he finished. Entering the kitchen, he grabbed a small basket. He put into it a piece of kale, some dandelion, and a few handfuls of whatever was growing in the lawn. Then he gathered a plate with last night's leftovers. They'd had venison last night, which he felt was safer to offer to his wife. Rather than sending a made, he himself went to her room and knocked. "Sylvia, open up. I brought dinner."
Aranhil had no idea what Sylvia was going on about. "Of course that's what I expected!" He called after her. "Our parents chose you for a reason!" He didn't know what that reason was, but he knew his father would never have chosen Sylvia if she was not suppose to be well behaved. He'd had no hand in his own marriage, as he had made very clear from the beginning. He didn't know why she was suddenly taking offense to him doing the same thing for his sister. "Sylvia, don't you dare leave!"
He was furious that she'd disobeyed him. "Ugh!" The prince shook his head, unsure of how to handle his wife's sudden change. This was not what his wife was suppose to act like. He didn't understand how she could just be so stupid. She was worse than River when it came to her emotions. He sighed. He'd let her have her little temper tantrum. She'd realize she was wrong soon enough. Smoothing out his clothes, he stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him.
Hoppy glared at the door with all the ferocity a bunny could master. How dare it shut him in again.
Aranhil made his way down the corridor, heading outside. He really needed to go beat something up. He didn't even bother with changing his clothes. These might get ruined, but that didn't matter. He'd just have some more made for him. Thankfully, it was easy to find the men who were training, and even easier to join in. As his muscles adjusted to the workout, he felt himself relax. This was so much easier than understanding a wife.
He was furious that she'd disobeyed him. "Ugh!" The prince shook his head, unsure of how to handle his wife's sudden change. This was not what his wife was suppose to act like. He didn't understand how she could just be so stupid. She was worse than River when it came to her emotions. He sighed. He'd let her have her little temper tantrum. She'd realize she was wrong soon enough. Smoothing out his clothes, he stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him.
Hoppy glared at the door with all the ferocity a bunny could master. How dare it shut him in again.
Aranhil made his way down the corridor, heading outside. He really needed to go beat something up. He didn't even bother with changing his clothes. These might get ruined, but that didn't matter. He'd just have some more made for him. Thankfully, it was easy to find the men who were training, and even easier to join in. As his muscles adjusted to the workout, he felt himself relax. This was so much easier than understanding a wife.
Clarinet could drive. It was something she did. But her car remained in it's location under the car park. Car keys in hand, she wondered down the sidewalk, trying to keep her eye on a bird. The bird was large, she could see that much. She guessed the wingspan to be somewhere between one and twenty feet. Twenty seemed quite high to her, and one seemed rather low, but she supposed it could not hurt to assume a wide variety of options. If she had to confirm a definite size, she'd probably say about five feet and four inches. But that was how tall she was, so maybe she was bias to that size.
What was odd about the bird, was the wings. It looked, to her, like every other feather had been plucked from the tip. Now, she was quite certain this could not be true, but it still had her curious. It had caught her eye, soaring across the street just as she locked her door. Forgetting that she had intended to take her car, she'd followed it, wondering what it could be. It occurred to her, walked directly into a red car parked outside the cafe, that she was lucky the bird had been going in the same direction as she. She debated, momentarily, if she should go into the cafe, or if she should chase the bird some more. The bird answered that question for her. It landed beside the street, picking at the remains of some poor animal that would never find out why the chicken crossed the road.
"A turkey vulture? I've been chasing a stupid turkey vulture? Ugh." Disgusted with herself, Clarinet shook her head and stepped around the car. She took a moment or two to admire the vehicle that had been introduced, painfully, to her left hip, then entered the store. She pulled out her phone and, as she stood in line, she checked the menu online.
"Miss? What can I get you?" the girl at the counter drew her attention.
Net looked up and smiled. "Hello! Good morning. How are you?" She asked brightly. "I'll have a chocolate latte with two pumps of caramel, please." She requested brightly. "Oh! And something to eat. Surprise me." She requested, starting to giggle. "Thanks!" She reached into her purse and pulled out a ten and a five. Setting them on the counter, she smiled. "You guys work too hard. Keep the change."
With that, she stepped out of line and looked around, searching for a place to sit.
What was odd about the bird, was the wings. It looked, to her, like every other feather had been plucked from the tip. Now, she was quite certain this could not be true, but it still had her curious. It had caught her eye, soaring across the street just as she locked her door. Forgetting that she had intended to take her car, she'd followed it, wondering what it could be. It occurred to her, walked directly into a red car parked outside the cafe, that she was lucky the bird had been going in the same direction as she. She debated, momentarily, if she should go into the cafe, or if she should chase the bird some more. The bird answered that question for her. It landed beside the street, picking at the remains of some poor animal that would never find out why the chicken crossed the road.
"A turkey vulture? I've been chasing a stupid turkey vulture? Ugh." Disgusted with herself, Clarinet shook her head and stepped around the car. She took a moment or two to admire the vehicle that had been introduced, painfully, to her left hip, then entered the store. She pulled out her phone and, as she stood in line, she checked the menu online.
"Miss? What can I get you?" the girl at the counter drew her attention.
Net looked up and smiled. "Hello! Good morning. How are you?" She asked brightly. "I'll have a chocolate latte with two pumps of caramel, please." She requested brightly. "Oh! And something to eat. Surprise me." She requested, starting to giggle. "Thanks!" She reached into her purse and pulled out a ten and a five. Setting them on the counter, she smiled. "You guys work too hard. Keep the change."
With that, she stepped out of line and looked around, searching for a place to sit.
Aranhil picked his wife up and threw her over his shoulder. Just like the sack of flour he told her she'd be. One hand on her back, and one across her legs, he turned and bowed to his mother and sister. "Excuse me, please, ladies. I'm afraid I require the attention of my wife." He turned, then, and carried her out of the room.
His mother just looked shocked as she watched her son leaving with the young elven princess. Cendres was squealing and laughing like a fool. "Don't forget what you have to do to him, Sylvia!" She shouted after her sister in law. "You still have the handcuffs!" She giggled eagerly, excited to find out if they managed to make her nieces and nephews or not.
Aranhil ignored them both. He carried his wife right back to her room, and set her down on her feet. "Hoppy, you'd better stay right in here." He warned the rabbit. Looking at his wife, he just frowned. "Just what has gotten into you, Sylvia? You are suppose to be setting an example! My father agreed to this marriage, because he saw how well behaved you elven women were, and he wanted you to come and help teach our woman to be more docile!" He hissed at her. He hadn't wanted word of this to get around. "And yet, here you are, acting worse than most of them! You are suppose to be setting a GOOD example for my sister!"
He groaned and sank down onto the bed, his head in his hands. "Cendres is far too wild, and woman everywhere are taking after her. We have tried everything, but it's not working. Cendres is going to have to be married within twenty years. Father wants her wed as soon as she is of legal age."
Looking up at his wife, he allowed her to see his fear and uncertainty. "Father is fond of the idea of sending her to the king farthest away from us. We have fifteen men who have made offers. Fifteen! The one farthest from us....I'd never see her again! I love her, Sylvia, she's my baby sister. I want her to be safe. But last time he came to visit, that....that man! He said he would be happy to train her. Like a dog!" He was clearly furious about this. Standing up from the bed, he started pacing. "I know what he intends to do to her. She'd hate it there. He wouldn't just make her into a lady, he'd break her spirit. She'd never survive as his wife."
He turned to Sylvia, clearly angry with her. "When you arrived, you acted perfectly. You were sweet, you answered politely, you treated me like your king. I AM your king, damn it! Now you're acting like my sister! I need you to teach her to be a wife, a lady, not for her to teach you how to cause trouble!"
His mother just looked shocked as she watched her son leaving with the young elven princess. Cendres was squealing and laughing like a fool. "Don't forget what you have to do to him, Sylvia!" She shouted after her sister in law. "You still have the handcuffs!" She giggled eagerly, excited to find out if they managed to make her nieces and nephews or not.
Aranhil ignored them both. He carried his wife right back to her room, and set her down on her feet. "Hoppy, you'd better stay right in here." He warned the rabbit. Looking at his wife, he just frowned. "Just what has gotten into you, Sylvia? You are suppose to be setting an example! My father agreed to this marriage, because he saw how well behaved you elven women were, and he wanted you to come and help teach our woman to be more docile!" He hissed at her. He hadn't wanted word of this to get around. "And yet, here you are, acting worse than most of them! You are suppose to be setting a GOOD example for my sister!"
He groaned and sank down onto the bed, his head in his hands. "Cendres is far too wild, and woman everywhere are taking after her. We have tried everything, but it's not working. Cendres is going to have to be married within twenty years. Father wants her wed as soon as she is of legal age."
Looking up at his wife, he allowed her to see his fear and uncertainty. "Father is fond of the idea of sending her to the king farthest away from us. We have fifteen men who have made offers. Fifteen! The one farthest from us....I'd never see her again! I love her, Sylvia, she's my baby sister. I want her to be safe. But last time he came to visit, that....that man! He said he would be happy to train her. Like a dog!" He was clearly furious about this. Standing up from the bed, he started pacing. "I know what he intends to do to her. She'd hate it there. He wouldn't just make her into a lady, he'd break her spirit. She'd never survive as his wife."
He turned to Sylvia, clearly angry with her. "When you arrived, you acted perfectly. You were sweet, you answered politely, you treated me like your king. I AM your king, damn it! Now you're acting like my sister! I need you to teach her to be a wife, a lady, not for her to teach you how to cause trouble!"
"SYLVIA!"
Aranhil jerked the door back open, absolutely fuming. Unfortunately, she'd caught him with his pants down. Literally. He'd dropped his drawers as soon as he thought her back was turned. His initial reaction had been to turn around to catch her. This resulted in him hilariously spinning his arms about like a windmill while he crashed to the floor. The Jack and the beanstalk's giant style. Except with a bit less 'fe fi fo fum'ing. The prince scrambled to his feet, red faced with embarrassment. He hadn't done that since he was four, and his mother caught him peeing behind the barracks.
Bursting out into the hall (with his pants properly laced around his waste) he groaned. Sylvia was no where to be seen. He stopped and closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. He had to be relaxed. He was a prince, he couldn't let his anger get ahold of him. He was not River, and she was not Emera. He couldn't just screw her and pretend their fights were over with. Calmly, he walked down the hall, going to find his wife.
He located her locked between Cendres, and his mother. Cendres had eaten too much sugar. He could tell by the way she was bouncing, squeaking, and making overly exaggerated movements. His mother was....his mother. Really, he was saving his wife. Truly, he had to do her a kindness. He walked over, interrupting their conversation.
"Pardon me, mother. Excuse me, Cendres. Sylvia." he smiled at her, and kissed her forehead. "First of all, it is NOT weird to be attracted to feet." He informed her with a smile. "Second, your body may be beautiful and natural. But there is nothing beautiful about mine. I'm not a female." He laughed softly, sounding to all the world like he'd just told the best joke in the world. Cendres looked very worried about that laugh. "Third, I'm going to carry you out of this room like a sack of flour if you don't walk with me right this second because I refuse to yell at you in front of people."
Aranhil jerked the door back open, absolutely fuming. Unfortunately, she'd caught him with his pants down. Literally. He'd dropped his drawers as soon as he thought her back was turned. His initial reaction had been to turn around to catch her. This resulted in him hilariously spinning his arms about like a windmill while he crashed to the floor. The Jack and the beanstalk's giant style. Except with a bit less 'fe fi fo fum'ing. The prince scrambled to his feet, red faced with embarrassment. He hadn't done that since he was four, and his mother caught him peeing behind the barracks.
Bursting out into the hall (with his pants properly laced around his waste) he groaned. Sylvia was no where to be seen. He stopped and closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. He had to be relaxed. He was a prince, he couldn't let his anger get ahold of him. He was not River, and she was not Emera. He couldn't just screw her and pretend their fights were over with. Calmly, he walked down the hall, going to find his wife.
He located her locked between Cendres, and his mother. Cendres had eaten too much sugar. He could tell by the way she was bouncing, squeaking, and making overly exaggerated movements. His mother was....his mother. Really, he was saving his wife. Truly, he had to do her a kindness. He walked over, interrupting their conversation.
"Pardon me, mother. Excuse me, Cendres. Sylvia." he smiled at her, and kissed her forehead. "First of all, it is NOT weird to be attracted to feet." He informed her with a smile. "Second, your body may be beautiful and natural. But there is nothing beautiful about mine. I'm not a female." He laughed softly, sounding to all the world like he'd just told the best joke in the world. Cendres looked very worried about that laugh. "Third, I'm going to carry you out of this room like a sack of flour if you don't walk with me right this second because I refuse to yell at you in front of people."
Aranhil frowned. He didn't care for how she had suddenly turned flippant. "Now wait just a minute!" He followed her out into the hall and grabbed onto his wife's wrist. Mindful of how delicate she was, particularly by dragon standards, he held loosely. "I am your husband and king. You can't just walk out like that!" He protested. Spotting Hoppy deciding to go explore the castle, he groaned. "Not you too!"
The dragon released his wife's wrist and snatched up the rabbit. "I told you, the servants find you, you're going to be stew. Wife, come." He ordered. He turned and walked back into their bedroom, Hoppy in his arms. "I don't understand what has gotten into you. You were so doting when we first got married, you never left the room without asking permission. Or at least making up for it with a kiss. I'm just not alright with this change in attitude."
He shook his head and set the rabbit down on the bed. "I know that you are angry I dismissed your chamber maid, but I told you what the reasons for that were. She's teaching you things that you have no need to be concerned about, and she's not acting as a refined lady should. She's teaching you bad manners, and about cornergirls and ankle dancers." He sighed, "And I wish you didn't need to know what ether of those were!"
Cornergirls was the politer term for a prostitute. The girls would stand on the corner and catch business there. Prostitution was illegal, so many times the girls stood on the corners outside where the dancers worked, and sold rooms in the upstairs. Each place had their own symbol for if they were selling prostitutes or not that night. Interested men would approach, and the girl would lead him to wherever she sold herself, or would direct them to a coworker. Ankle dancers referenced the wrappings that the girls wore on their ankles, which made their dancing legal. Often, they were just the cover for the prostitution ring.
"Sit on the bed, wife. We have to talk." Aranhil informed Sophia, giving her a dismissive glance. "And advert your eyes. I have to change for training." He had been meeting with an important lord earlier. Now that the talks were done, though, he had to change from his silks and velvets and into the clothes he wore to practice fighting. "I assure you, I will have a new maid for you by the end of this week."
The dragon released his wife's wrist and snatched up the rabbit. "I told you, the servants find you, you're going to be stew. Wife, come." He ordered. He turned and walked back into their bedroom, Hoppy in his arms. "I don't understand what has gotten into you. You were so doting when we first got married, you never left the room without asking permission. Or at least making up for it with a kiss. I'm just not alright with this change in attitude."
He shook his head and set the rabbit down on the bed. "I know that you are angry I dismissed your chamber maid, but I told you what the reasons for that were. She's teaching you things that you have no need to be concerned about, and she's not acting as a refined lady should. She's teaching you bad manners, and about cornergirls and ankle dancers." He sighed, "And I wish you didn't need to know what ether of those were!"
Cornergirls was the politer term for a prostitute. The girls would stand on the corner and catch business there. Prostitution was illegal, so many times the girls stood on the corners outside where the dancers worked, and sold rooms in the upstairs. Each place had their own symbol for if they were selling prostitutes or not that night. Interested men would approach, and the girl would lead him to wherever she sold herself, or would direct them to a coworker. Ankle dancers referenced the wrappings that the girls wore on their ankles, which made their dancing legal. Often, they were just the cover for the prostitution ring.
"Sit on the bed, wife. We have to talk." Aranhil informed Sophia, giving her a dismissive glance. "And advert your eyes. I have to change for training." He had been meeting with an important lord earlier. Now that the talks were done, though, he had to change from his silks and velvets and into the clothes he wore to practice fighting. "I assure you, I will have a new maid for you by the end of this week."
Net rolled out of bed. Literally. She hit the floor with a solid thud that should have startled her awake. The only reason it didn't, was that she was already awake. She'd awoken from the dream, freaked out and petrified. Laying face first in her pillow, everything had been dark, and she couldn't breath. She'd rolled to get out of her pillows, and ended up out of the bed. "Owww...." The young woman rubbed her hip right hip. She'd landed on it first.
"Stupid dream." Clarinet climbed to her feet, disentangling from her blankets. A small, black cat watched her from the dead center of her bed. "No wonder I fell off. Stupid cat, taking up all the room!" She scooped the tiny creature up into her arms for a snuggle. "You're suppose to chase away nasty things! Like bugs, and mice, and bad dreams! I named you Dreamcatcher for a reason!" The reason had, actually, been for the marking on her chest. It was round and webby. With the cat's paws dangling below, Net had been reminded of the charms. She'd thought the name quite sweet.
"Come on, Dream," She shivered for a second, remembering the young girl. "Where did that even come from?" Head shaking, Net trotted down the hall and into her bathroom. There was no way she was going to feel clean, not after that dream, until she had scrubbed herself pink from head to toe. "How could that man even sit there!" She demanded of her companion. "He just let a girl die, and he just sat there!" Catching the early signs of her personal panic, she shut her eyes. "No...stop." A long sight escaped her. "Happy, happy, happy. It was a stupid dream, no one really died. Think happy." She was suppose to be in class in an hour. But class was never happy. "I think I'll go shopping today." She informed her feline as she undressed. "I could use a new pair of boots. And a cute dress to match! Would you like a new toy mouse? Maybe I'll take you to the pet store." She flicked on the shower, as hot as she could stand.
Dreamcatcher perched on the edge of the bathtub, watching as water rolled down the curtain. "Merrrr?" She swatted at a few stray drops, then shook her paw indignantly. This water was wet. Tail in the air, she leaped down off the edge of the tub, and trotted back down the hall. Her human rejoined her a half hour later, hair dripping, and wrapped in a towel. Dreamcatcher promptly snubbed her, and went to sit by her empty food dish.
Clarinet dressed quickly. She adored dresses, but decided on a skirt today. Skirts were almost as good as dresses. It was a dark blue skirt, and she paired it with a cream colored top, and brown boots. Her eyes flicked over to her phone, charging on the bedside table. She picked it up, checked for messages, and dropped it again. That done, she grabbed her purse from yesterday. As she dumped some keys, lipstick, hairbands, a toy mouse, some gum, and whatever else was in her red purse, into a brown one, she surveyed her bedroom. She fed her cat in her room, and could see that there was still a ring of food around the inside edge. She supposed she should toss a little more on top, though. The water dish was still filled.
"Ooooh! Breakfast!" The thought of feeding her cat reminded Net she had to feed herself. She decided she was going to pop down to her favorite cafe for a nice little breakfast pastry, a cup of coffee with too much cream and sugar, and maybe a chance to flirt with a cute customer or two. None of the boys working the counter were old enough for her. There were only two, and they both seemed to be barely in high school. The girls were nice to chat with, though. She dumped a random amount of food into her cat's dish, and decided it would be good for the day. Likely, it was good enough for three days. "Good girl, Dreamcatcher. I'm gunna garb some breakfast, then some boots, and two new dresses, and a purse, and a boyfriend, and then I'll come take you to the pet store!"
Net scratched the eating cat's ears, then exited her bedroom. Net entered her bedroom. Clarinet scooped up her purse, draped it over her shoulder, and exited the bedroom.
Dreamcatcher's ears flicked towards the sound of the front door locking. It unlocked. Net sprinted back into the bedroom to grab her phone. A few minutes later and the front door locked again. Dreamcatcher snubbed her food and went to drink the water puddled on the bottom of the tub.
"Stupid dream." Clarinet climbed to her feet, disentangling from her blankets. A small, black cat watched her from the dead center of her bed. "No wonder I fell off. Stupid cat, taking up all the room!" She scooped the tiny creature up into her arms for a snuggle. "You're suppose to chase away nasty things! Like bugs, and mice, and bad dreams! I named you Dreamcatcher for a reason!" The reason had, actually, been for the marking on her chest. It was round and webby. With the cat's paws dangling below, Net had been reminded of the charms. She'd thought the name quite sweet.
"Come on, Dream," She shivered for a second, remembering the young girl. "Where did that even come from?" Head shaking, Net trotted down the hall and into her bathroom. There was no way she was going to feel clean, not after that dream, until she had scrubbed herself pink from head to toe. "How could that man even sit there!" She demanded of her companion. "He just let a girl die, and he just sat there!" Catching the early signs of her personal panic, she shut her eyes. "No...stop." A long sight escaped her. "Happy, happy, happy. It was a stupid dream, no one really died. Think happy." She was suppose to be in class in an hour. But class was never happy. "I think I'll go shopping today." She informed her feline as she undressed. "I could use a new pair of boots. And a cute dress to match! Would you like a new toy mouse? Maybe I'll take you to the pet store." She flicked on the shower, as hot as she could stand.
Dreamcatcher perched on the edge of the bathtub, watching as water rolled down the curtain. "Merrrr?" She swatted at a few stray drops, then shook her paw indignantly. This water was wet. Tail in the air, she leaped down off the edge of the tub, and trotted back down the hall. Her human rejoined her a half hour later, hair dripping, and wrapped in a towel. Dreamcatcher promptly snubbed her, and went to sit by her empty food dish.
Clarinet dressed quickly. She adored dresses, but decided on a skirt today. Skirts were almost as good as dresses. It was a dark blue skirt, and she paired it with a cream colored top, and brown boots. Her eyes flicked over to her phone, charging on the bedside table. She picked it up, checked for messages, and dropped it again. That done, she grabbed her purse from yesterday. As she dumped some keys, lipstick, hairbands, a toy mouse, some gum, and whatever else was in her red purse, into a brown one, she surveyed her bedroom. She fed her cat in her room, and could see that there was still a ring of food around the inside edge. She supposed she should toss a little more on top, though. The water dish was still filled.
"Ooooh! Breakfast!" The thought of feeding her cat reminded Net she had to feed herself. She decided she was going to pop down to her favorite cafe for a nice little breakfast pastry, a cup of coffee with too much cream and sugar, and maybe a chance to flirt with a cute customer or two. None of the boys working the counter were old enough for her. There were only two, and they both seemed to be barely in high school. The girls were nice to chat with, though. She dumped a random amount of food into her cat's dish, and decided it would be good for the day. Likely, it was good enough for three days. "Good girl, Dreamcatcher. I'm gunna garb some breakfast, then some boots, and two new dresses, and a purse, and a boyfriend, and then I'll come take you to the pet store!"
Net scratched the eating cat's ears, then exited her bedroom. Net entered her bedroom. Clarinet scooped up her purse, draped it over her shoulder, and exited the bedroom.
Dreamcatcher's ears flicked towards the sound of the front door locking. It unlocked. Net sprinted back into the bedroom to grab her phone. A few minutes later and the front door locked again. Dreamcatcher snubbed her food and went to drink the water puddled on the bottom of the tub.
Alright, my sample post is up. Thanks for waiting for that.
Name: Clarinet Melody Mozart
Nicknames/Aliases: Net
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Appearance: image
Personality: Lover of all things lacy and lovely, Clarinet is a lot of a girly girl. She adores anything cute, and anything pretty. She's a dreamer, and a romantic, and a little bit spoiled. Perhaps because of her name, Clarinet adores music and dance. She'll pause in the street to listen to people busking, and will sing or dance with children at the drop of a hat. A little flighty, and easily distracted, Clarinet is often likened to a small, beautiful, slightly annoying, but pleasant to listen to bird.
Skills: Clarinet is skilled at blowing sour notes on her namesake, and pulling sweet ones from strings. While blowing is not in her talents, her long slender fingers are perfect for almost any stringed instrument, bowed or plucked, and she is very quick to pick up on most of them. Her favorite is the harp, and the most practical is the guitar.
Socially, Clarinet excels. She can make a new friend anywhere she goes, and pull genuine smiles from even the Grinch, before his heart grew.
Net has a talent for dealing with masses of small children without feeling an urge to strangle them.
Net can knit.
History: Clarinet is the only daughter of a wealthy business man and a hippy mother. Both in stature and in practice. Her father was away on business when her mother was rushed into the hospital to go into labor three weeks early. Net arrived perfectly safe, and with a very 'unique' name filled with 'song energy' and 'peace bringing skills'. Clarinet had no idea what that meant, but she loved to listen to how her mother had named her, so she didn't mind the pretty terms. Her father was slightly less pleased, but enjoyed her mother's hippy ways, and after a night or two of wrestling around, submitted to the mother's decision.
Clarinet grew up happy. She dreamed of being a ballerina, but hated the shoes with the blocks in the toes, so she never went to class. She wasn't much fond of the teacher, either, who pronounced her name 'Clar-in-it' because she refused to accept that a child could be named for an instrument. Other than her one teacher, however, Clarinet has always loved her name.
Growing up was very easy for Net, and she lived a life of privilege. Her parents shielded her from hurt and destruction, and built her a little artificial shelter to hide in whenever the world turned bad. Net usually wears rose tinted glasses, and only takes them off to put on violet tinted glasses for a change of style. Fashionable and friendly, she's everyone's slightly ditzy girl next door.
Not feeling she had much need to go on to college, Clarinet was none too picky about her choice in schools, and simply decided to take business classes at the local community college. She misses most of them.
Other: Net has a mild allergy to strawberries, which she ignores in the manner of a cat. Net also goes into hysterics if people break laws, fearing the absolute worst punishment for every simple crime. In middle school she had to be sent home from school, sobbing uncontrollably because her friend asked to copy her homework at lunch. She has gotten somewhat better at controlling herself in these situations, but it still very quick to upset about such things.
Nicknames/Aliases: Net
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Appearance: image
Personality: Lover of all things lacy and lovely, Clarinet is a lot of a girly girl. She adores anything cute, and anything pretty. She's a dreamer, and a romantic, and a little bit spoiled. Perhaps because of her name, Clarinet adores music and dance. She'll pause in the street to listen to people busking, and will sing or dance with children at the drop of a hat. A little flighty, and easily distracted, Clarinet is often likened to a small, beautiful, slightly annoying, but pleasant to listen to bird.
Skills: Clarinet is skilled at blowing sour notes on her namesake, and pulling sweet ones from strings. While blowing is not in her talents, her long slender fingers are perfect for almost any stringed instrument, bowed or plucked, and she is very quick to pick up on most of them. Her favorite is the harp, and the most practical is the guitar.
Socially, Clarinet excels. She can make a new friend anywhere she goes, and pull genuine smiles from even the Grinch, before his heart grew.
Net has a talent for dealing with masses of small children without feeling an urge to strangle them.
Net can knit.
History: Clarinet is the only daughter of a wealthy business man and a hippy mother. Both in stature and in practice. Her father was away on business when her mother was rushed into the hospital to go into labor three weeks early. Net arrived perfectly safe, and with a very 'unique' name filled with 'song energy' and 'peace bringing skills'. Clarinet had no idea what that meant, but she loved to listen to how her mother had named her, so she didn't mind the pretty terms. Her father was slightly less pleased, but enjoyed her mother's hippy ways, and after a night or two of wrestling around, submitted to the mother's decision.
Clarinet grew up happy. She dreamed of being a ballerina, but hated the shoes with the blocks in the toes, so she never went to class. She wasn't much fond of the teacher, either, who pronounced her name 'Clar-in-it' because she refused to accept that a child could be named for an instrument. Other than her one teacher, however, Clarinet has always loved her name.
Growing up was very easy for Net, and she lived a life of privilege. Her parents shielded her from hurt and destruction, and built her a little artificial shelter to hide in whenever the world turned bad. Net usually wears rose tinted glasses, and only takes them off to put on violet tinted glasses for a change of style. Fashionable and friendly, she's everyone's slightly ditzy girl next door.
Not feeling she had much need to go on to college, Clarinet was none too picky about her choice in schools, and simply decided to take business classes at the local community college. She misses most of them.
Other: Net has a mild allergy to strawberries, which she ignores in the manner of a cat. Net also goes into hysterics if people break laws, fearing the absolute worst punishment for every simple crime. In middle school she had to be sent home from school, sobbing uncontrollably because her friend asked to copy her homework at lunch. She has gotten somewhat better at controlling herself in these situations, but it still very quick to upset about such things.
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