Private Tales Blood is thicker than...Paint?

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Hand lifted, fingers curling against the meager fabric of the tunic she wore at her chest. Her scuffed up boots. Her trousers. So many fond-memories of escaping the guard in these boots. A tiny sense of relief as he expressed that he would allow her to keep them.

"I"d like to keep them," her voice quiet. Wide-blue eyes looking up at her brother. It was the only thing she had left since she hadn't been to get her other, meager things. Her clothes and those few pieces of colored charcoal and the necklace she kept, hidden beneath her shirt. It was a leather-cord with her mother's ring looped through. The only thing she had left of her mother.

And she was amazed with how humble Alistair was. His magic - what he was doing, in her eyes, was nothing short of extraordinary. If she could read, she imagined she would find so many tales about heroes and wizards like him.

"I'll leave the clothes outside the door," she said as Alistair left her to it. Closing the door, she began peeling off her layers, folding them up as neatly as she could in a pile and nudging them back outside before she tiptoed back to the bath. The water had stopped. Steam was steadily rising and there was a layer of lavender scented bubbles on top.

Mariana dipped in slowly and began scrubbing off layers of grime and dirt. Taking a bath, let alone a warm one, was a very rare and strange sensation for the girl. In fact, a part of her thought she died back in those woods and this was perhaps heaven?
 
Alistair nodded and left her to get clean. He would have Hursh wash the clothes later, but for now, he needed to find her something else to wear. If Mariana really was going to stay here, then he was not going to have a member of House Krixus looking like a beggar.

There was no point in going searching his own room, instead, he moved downstairs to a small room that was often used for storage. Inside, he knew there were one or two boxes of clothes from his younger years. His mother had insisted she keeps some of them, but she likely had forgotten that they were even here.

Alistair found a simple pair of trousers and a blouse that would likely be a bit big on Mariana, but it would have to do. They could go get her real clothes tomorrow when he had the time. He brought the clothes up and left them by the door before he moved back downstairs to take a moment and get his thoughts in order. Supposedly, a messenger had brought by some papers he needed to look at, so he would look to them.

Mariana
 
Mariana didn't stay in the bath too long. Even though she came to the conclusion that she liked it. She didn't like feeling vulnerable and taking a bath definitely made her feel that way. Quickly drying off, she opened the door to the clothes. Pulling them on, she also saw a belt, which helped to keep the trousers up.

They were finer than any clothes she'd ever worn before - except for maybe that first five years with her mother. Tucking the necklace under the blouse she quickly combed her fingers through her wet hair. The highlights she'd put in her bangs still bright and colorful. All the old paint smudges on her face and skin gone. Grabbing her remaining charcoal, she stashed them inside her new pockets and finally began to make her way back downstairs.

The smells of a dinner made were already wafting up the stairs. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. Something roasted for sure. Maybe hints of rosemary. Forever hungry, her mouth watered.
 
Natasha stuck her head out the kitchen door and smiled at Mariana. She beckoned her to come to eat, while also calling out.

"Alistair, the food is ready. That means put down the papers and come eat...now."

There was a sigh that came from the next room over as he walked out, in the process of removing glasses from his face.

"Sorry, just trying to get some work done...Let's eat."

He said assuringly to Mariana before walking into the kitchen and began making his plate. the small feast that Natasha had made was simple by noble regards but pampered with the spices and other ingredients that only those of some means could even hope to get their hands on.

A simple array of potatoes, some fancy baked bread with a light and flaky crust, and a hearty, dark brown stew. Natasha was already making a plate for Mariana.

"I figured I would make something that would be sure to fill you up."

Mariana
 
She was strangely quiet as she walked in only after the reassurance of Alistair. Hands gripped the weighted down plate of food from Natasha and she climbed into a seat at the dinner table as the others sat to join them. There was a quiet sniffle. And then another as her watery-eyes lifted to each of them, falling on Natasha the most.

"Thank you," fingers swiped at her eyes. "No one has, I haven't," voice trailed off. "It's been a long time since anyone has done something like this for me." The last person being her mother. "Thanks," another swipe of her eyes. "I'm not crying," she muttered.

Which clearly she was.

This time she dabbed the napkin hurriedly at her eyes.
 
Alistair glanced at Mariana and then at his mother, but he said nothing. It was best to just eat his food and remain silent.

Natasha, on the other hand, looked at Mariana with a warm smile that only a mother could give. She reached across the table and took Mariana's free hand in hers.

"It's nothing. You are family and we look after family...We will look after family."

The correction was not lost on Alistair. They could not claim to have a tradition of love in this house, but that did not mean they could not strive for it.

"Now, eat. We have extra if you want more." Natasha said with a grin as she began to eat her portion.

Mariana
 
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Another, loud sniffle as she gave a quick, silent nod to Natasha. It was hard not to believe whatever this woman said. She seemed sincere. Looking around at what other utensils they picked up, she mimicked them and began digging in. A happy sigh left her lips.

"Mmmfff, mfff, so good," and she ate fast. As if she was worried it would be taken away. It's how she'd always eaten since she'd hit the streets at the age of five. Waiting usually meant exposing yourself. Had to eat fast to get it in. And to stay ahead of the authorities.

She pointed her spool to Alistair.

"I'm surprised you're not fat after growing up and eating like this." She paused, remembering that he was a dreadlord. "I mean...when you were at home." She knew they took kids who showed magic at a very young age, so she had to wonder at what age they took her brother.

He hadn't been able to escape their grasp like she'd managed to.
 
A sad smile spread across Natasha's face as she silently began to eat her meal. The room fell into an awkward silence until Alistair finally looked up from his own food.

"Yeah, I did not really get to come home a lot those first few years."

More like, at all. Alistair's father forcefully engraved his first rune onto his back on his 6th birthday. Once it was proved that he could use the magic of the rune, he was at the Academy the next week...He did not see his mother or father again until he turned 13.

By then, small exceptions were being allowed for him to have small meetings with them because of his unique position as heir to the House. It was only in the years leading up to the revolution that the rules against interacting with his family became even more relaxed.

There was another aspect left unsaid when he did finally get to come home...his mother was not in any position to cook or do much of anything really.

"It's a really good mom."

Mariana
 
Mariana dipped a big chunk of bread into the stew, letting it soak up the good stuff. Shy-gaze that seemed more of a deeper blue watched as Natasha gave Alistair a sad, soft smile. There was a shadow that she shared with Alistair. And she remembered Alistair telling her that his father hadn't been a good man.

Fingers gripped tightly around the spoon she held.

What had he done to them?

Then a shiver down her spine. She knew she'd taken a risk with reaching out to the Krixus family to begin with. Even though Alistair had made her come with him, he was holding up to his word so far. And he hadn't hurt her. He genuinely seemed to want her to do well.

Alistair said his father wouldn't have answered her letter and perhaps she should be grateful because it sounded like if his father had come, it would've been very, VERY bad. Mariana ate the rest of her meal in general silence, sneaking glances at Alistair and Natasha every now and then.

After finishing her second bowl, she leaned back, feeling full for the first time in a long time. And very, very sleepy. The ride from the night before was already catching up to her. But even as her eyelids drooped, she stayed at the table - determined to be polite.
 
Alistair recognized the somber mood of the lunch after that specific subject and tried his best to make small talk with his mom and the maid, but neither of them was very good at it.

Halfway through his own meal, he spotted Mariana's drooping eyelids and briefly wondered if it would be funny to just let her fall asleep into her bowl of stew. However, she managed to finish the bowl and still she forced herself to stay awake,

Alistair looked at her with a smirk before looking to his mother to see her thoughts on the matter, but once again she had that far-away look in her eye. She would never admit it, but every time she got that look, Alistair could see just the smallest of frowns appear on her face...Was she remembering something?

He took his napkin and wiped his mouth clean before standing up.

"It was a long day yesterday. Mariana, let me show you to your room, so you can get a little rest."

Mariana
 
"Okay," she muttered rubbing at her sleepy eyes. "Thanks aga--," she paused as Natasha wasn't looking at her. Or any of them. That look she'd had when she'd first met her. Slipping down from her seat, a yawn ripped through her mouth.

"I don't need rest," she muttered even as her feet dragged to catch up to her brother's long stride. Another yawn as her shoulders slumped. "But I can sleep anywhere - even on the floor." She'd proven that with getting some sleep on the ride.

"I really like your mom. How she did that meal, reminded me of my own madre."
 
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Alistair just smirked knowing that as soon as Mariana's head hit a pillow, then she would likely be out cold. Even Alistair was a little tired from traveling through the night, and he was accustomed to such conditions, so he knew she had to be tried.

"Sure, you don't, but humor me."

He led her up to the small room, which was extremely bare of any furniture except a single bed. The bed looked to be pretty old but made well enough to last over the years. The sheets had clearly been recently washed.

"This will have to do until we can get you some real furniture..."

Alistair had originally decided to ignore the last comment. He knew that often bringing up family could be difficult for some, and he did not want to do that to Mariana, but he could not help but ask.

"When did she pass?"

Mariana
 
Mariana squeezed past Alistair and into the small room. Plopping on the edge of the bed, she began taking off her boots. Another yawn. There was a window in the corner that looked out over the shops across the street below.

An inside room with an actual bed instead of a pallet on the floor of some rooftop. Grateful for the bed but wary of the feeling of being stuck within four walls. Still, a little too tired to dwell on feelings related to being trapped.

A frown at her brother's question. Even after the ten or so years, it still hurt. Her mom not being here. Not seeing her face anymore. Her smiles. Feeling her touch. Smelling the strong herbs from her shop that they lived over. Smelling the fresh corn tortillas she always made.

Unbidden, there was a sharp sting to her eyes. She looked away from her brother and down to her fidgeting hands in her lap. "When I was five," she said quietly. Taking a sharp inhale and not wanting him to se eher cry again - even though she'd deny it, she stood and tried to push Alistair gently out of her room.

"Okayokayokay you're right, I'm tired, bye," then she'd quickly try to close the door between them.
 
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Alistair allowed himself to be pushed from the room, but he did not take his eyes off her. He had a sad look in his eye, partially from his own memories, but mainly for bringing up such a sore subject.

"I know that it's never easy, and I am sorry for bringing it up...Just know that I am here if you need anything."

She was still trying to push him the last foot out into the hall. He helped her out by taking the last step out of the doorway.

"Get some sleep. Good...day."

Mariana
 
She paused, her hands on his chest, as she looked up at him.

Alistair Krixus said:
Just know that I am here if you need anything.
Click to expand...

There was a significance in those words that no one had ever promised her besides her madre. It only made the sting behind her eyes sharpen. Eyes would well with pools of water as she stared up at her brother. The one she'd just found out she had. The one that had insisted she come with him. The one that seemed to genuinely care about her well being even though they'd just met.

She couldn't understand it yet.

Couldn't process it yet.

Relief as he stepped outside the door and she was able to close the door between them. Taking a breath, she marched over to the window and flung it open. For a moment, she leaned over the edge tempted to run away from everything.

She didn't deserve this. None of it. She was just a street urchin. But she couldn't quite make herself climb over the edge. Not after what her brother said. Not after everything he'd done. And Natasha and all she'd done. Moving away from the open window, she finally crawled into bed. And Alistair was right, as soon as her head hit the pillow she was out.
 
Alistair stood at the door, having it just gets slammed in his face, in silence. He could sense the window being opened. Contrary to its appearance, Alistair had poured a lot of time into an effort to engrave most of the house with runes. This simple little home was more secure than some banks in the city.

With a light sigh, as he sensed the window close, he turned and moved downstairs. Alistair walked into the kitchen to find only Hursh, who quickly explained that his mother had also gone to bed. She was likely tired from the cooking. She still wasn't used to things like that.

"Very well. I will be in the study. Let me know if you need anything."

Without waiting for a response, he went off to barricade himself in his father's old study. The place was a mess, overflowing with paperwork that Alistair had been meticulously working through...It never stopped.


The rest of that day went by with Alistair performing paperwork, and Marianna miraculously slept through the entire day. His mother eventually woke up but busied herself with her paintings. Alistair would not doze off until late into the night.

He woke suddenly that next morning with his eyes snapping open and scanning the room for signs of danger...A habit that would likely never be outgrown after the Academy's efforts.

The young Lord moved to the kitchen were Hursh was already up. The woman seemed to never sleep and have outstanding stamina...He wished he could pay her more.

Mariana
 
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And Mariana was already at the small breakfast table directly in the kitchen munching on some freshly made bacon and scrambled eggs that Ms. Hursh had already prepared. There were extras on the stove waiting for Alistair and his mother. "Does that one ever stop eating?" Ms. Hursh laughed as she wiped her hands on her apron, nodding to Mariana.

"MFFFhey," Mariana grumbled as she tried to finish chewing and speak at the same time.

"Still a long way to go to get more meat on those bones of yours," Hursh continued and shook her head, sharing a silent look with Alistair. "She needs some new clothes too and those boots look like they're about to fall apart. Want me to take her or did you?"

Mariana continued to munch on the crispy bacon, those blue eyes of hers flickering between Hursh and her brother. Were those dark circles she saw beneath his eyes? A small frown tugged at her lips.
 
A small smile crept onto Alistair's face as he saw Mariana already up and once again stuffing her face. He silently moved over and made himself a small plate before sitting across from her.

"Yes, I was thinking the same...I'll handle it. You are busy enough, let me handle this."

He had a good contact that could get him a cheap pair of good boots. The clothes might require a bit more haggling, but Alistair was confident they could still get enough...maybe he should dig into the coffers and pull out just a bit more.

"Once you are done, get ready, and then we will go." The best start to the day was an early start to the day.

Mariana
 
She looked down at her slightly rumpled clothes. The ones she wore last night and to bed. Still, they were better than the clothes she'd come here with. Feet wiggled in her boots. She finished off her last piece of bacon. (she had 5 more stuffed in her pocket just in case)

"What are you talking about? I am ready." A disgruntled huff. "You don't look like you got any sleep, though," she commented like a true sister would as she hopped down from her seat and scooped up her clean and empty plate to hand off to Mrs. Hursh.

"How many stores are you going to make us go to?" A small whine to the back of her voice. She. Hated. Shopping.

To be fair, she never really did it properly before. She always lifted. Snag and grab. But she had a feeling Alistair wouldn't let her do that. And the only kind of shopping she liked was for art supplies not for anything necessary and BORING.
 
Alistair raised an eyebrow at her before reaching out and grabbing his own piece of bacon. This would be all he needed for the day. He motioned that they would be leaving ignoring Hursh's argument that he needed to eat something.

"We will go to as many as we need to get everything for you." What a dumb question. There was only one obvious answer.

He chose to ignore her comment about his sleep. Some nights required certain things that needed to be done. He had no time for sleep.

"Mrs. Hursh, when mother takes her nap today, can you deliver the papers on my desk to the Mercutio trading company? They will be expecting them."

There was no need to actually wait for an answer, as he knew she would say yes. Alistair motioned for Marianna to follow as he walked out of the kitchen and the house.

Mariana
 
Mariana followed her brother out. "I dunno why Mrs. Hursh always talks about me having skin on my bones when you're nearly as bad," she pointed out. The streets were bustling as they left. Much fuller than when they arrived. Mariana couldn't help her head turning. Staring at the much taller and more compact buildings around her.

Nothing like Vel Lameus or the other small places she'd skipped around and evading the guards.

And as they passed a fruit stand, she went to snatch a pear and slide it into her pocket. Old habits died hard.
 
Alistair tended to where form-fitting clothing along with some kind of half cape, and he had for long been told that it made him look on the skinner side. That was all by design. His body had been forged into a weapon, just like all the other Dreadlords. His muscles, while slim, were taught and powerful.

"Being sleep deprived is not the same as being malnourished." He dismissed with a wave of his hand.

He went back to walking down the street, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Marianna. His hand whipped out and grasped her wrist tightly. He tried not to grip too tightly, but his instincts did not make it easy to hold back. He quickly let go.

"Sorry...rule number one. No stealing. You are part of House Krixus. Our name will not be muddied with theft. We help the people. We do not take from them."

Alistair reached over and took the peach from her, placing it back into the fruit stand.

Mariana
 
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She froze as he reacted with the speed of something preternatural. It reminded her of how they'd met a few days ago. How'd he'd latched onto her with an iron-like grasp. Blue-greenish eyes of hers widened like saucers. She snatched her wrist back as soon as he let go.

But she did not rub it in front of him.

He...apologized. For what? Worried that he'd hurt her? That surprised her the most.

"How did you even see," voice trailed off. "Sorry, habit," she mumbled and jammed her hands into the pockets of Alistair's old trousers that she was borrowing. A glint of color caught her eye as they walked. She paused in front of a storefront window. It was full of art supplies. Brushes and paints. Pastel sets that looked far grander than anything she'd ever owned. Canvas and papers. Oils and acrylics. Tools and other things she'd never seen before.

"Waitwait wait. Can we go in there? Pleasepleasepleaseplease."
 
Alistair continued walking, choosing to ignore her question. He had to keep some of his secrets. He was nearly about to turn the corner when she called after him.

He slowed before turning back to look at the store with a raised eyebrow. Alistair himself had some talents for the arts. He had decided to learn in order to draw better schematics for his projects, but it was purely a practical and efficient endeavor. He had never even used any color besides basic charcoal. That being said, his mother enjoyed painting.

All of these thoughts ran through his mind as he looked up at the store and then slowly turned his head to look at Mariana's pleading eyes. It seemed so pointless, but...she wanted this.

"Ok, but let's keep it reasonable."

Mariana
 
Mariana's eyes lit up and she swooped her arms around her brother as far as they would go and gave him a short, tight squeezing hug, chin tilted upward as she looked at him. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!!"

Just as quickly, she'd release him and scurry inside the shop. Hands ran reverently along the shelves. Fingertips brushing along the many bottles of brightly colored paints and brushes. She disappeared around the back shelves. It took some time before her brightly colored haired head would pop back out, her arms loaded with canvases, paint jars, brushes, mixing palettes, and a pack of colored chalk.

Mariana had full-on puppy dog eyes as she looked up at Alistair. A silent question in her eyes.

Please?
 
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