It’s that time of year again. Your character is heading home to their family to pay them a visit. Are they heading back to spend Thanksgiving with them? Christmas? Are they going home for Hanukkah, or maybe the Solstice? Perhaps they just need some quality time with them, after all some are an awfully long way from home. Whatever the reason, they’re spending time with their family this holiday season. What do they do? Are they happy to be back or is it more out of obligation? Does everything go as planned or are more disastrous and embarrassing family memories about to be made? It’s up to you!
The usual rules apply. You must reach a word count of 1,000 for your entry to be counted, and you can post it as a reply right here in this thread. You can post with however many of your characters you want. At the end of the month, we’ll look it over and dispense points. The points earned for participating in the monthly event alone is 90 by default. If you really blow us away with your entry, we’ll award you 100.
I apologize for the delay. The deadline of the October monthly event is December 1st
Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Nov 3, 2014 22:20:59 GMT -5
This’d be an interesting week.
Way back when Cyrille had first decided to attend Shibusen, he had promised his father that he’d come to visit on special occasions. Christmas had always been a holiday his family had adored, so it only made sense it would count as a special occasion. Cyrille was not to fond of the idea of spending the week with his father. At the very least he would not have to deal with his mother.
In all honesty, he quite missed his mother. If Cyrille was ever asked, he would say he had liked his mother more than his father. She was more quiet and reserved than his father. He had ended up taking much more after her, while his sister took after his father. Cyrille hadn’t seen his mother in a long time, though. About four years. The very sight of her caused him to freeze in fear, so he instead lived with his father all those years. It probably would have been better if he could stay with his mother, but that was something he didn’t want to think about right about now.
This trip was already not going well. Cyrille had fallen asleep on the bus to get to the apartment his father lived at. Meaning he now had to walk there, and of course he had gotten lost. It had taken an entire two hours of walking to figure out where he was, as Cyrille preferred that to asking for directions. Asking people for anything was never something he liked doing. And now it was getting dark, the street lights flickering on.
Cyrille was almost at the place his father lived now, but the area it was in was just a bit unsettling. Okay, very unsettling. It wasn’t a very nice neighborhood, and at this hour - he supposed around eight - a lot of shady characters were around. None bothered him, but Cyrille never liked seeing shady people. Thinking about what they might do made his panic. That was why he generally wasn’t out this late.
Thank God nothing actually happened and Cyrille made it to the apartment a-okay. His father’s place was on the top floor. He remembered exactly where. As per usual, the place was quiet and no one currently sat at the front desk. One could go up to the rooms without being called there. Cheap place. And that’s exactly what Cyrille did.
He knocked on the door, but there was no reply. Cyrille waited for about a minute before knocking again, to which there was once again no reply. He sighed softly, and tested the door just to make sure it was locked. Unsurprisingly, it was not. His father had a habit of not locking the door. Cyrille slowly opened the door, then closed it behind him as he stepped in the apartment.
And, no one was here.
Joy. Well, Cyrille should have expected this. It’d be out of character for his father to have actually been home at this time, even if he was expecting his only child to arrive shortly. Feh. Cyrille would have been upset if he had had expectations in the first place.
It took a moment or two for the smell to hit Cyrille. And damn, did it hit him. He had to cover his nose as soon as he smelled it. It smelled worse than he remembered it, probably because no one was actually looking after his father right about now. The smell of alcohol and smoke mixed together to make a nasty stench that made his stomach churn. This week would last for an eternity if he felt sick the entire time. Welp, best clean up he supposed.
It was just a bit more than an hour until Cyrille heard a noise that he did not make whilst making the small apartment pass as being livable. It was the sound of a door opening and someone stumbling in. Cyrille stood up to see who it was. He assumed it to be his father, and indeed he was correct.
<<Ah, Cyrille?>> The man spoke with a confused voice. <<I thought you had changed your mind about coming. Sorry about that.>>
The voice of his father was... clearly than Cyrille had predicted. He had expected his father to be far from sober if returning home at this hour. What could he have been doing out so late? Erm, to be honest Cyrille did not particularly want to know. <<I got lost.>> Cyrille replied, simply.
<<I see. Well, sorry to make you wait, then.>> There was a pause. <<And I thank you for cleaning up a bit.>>
To that Cyrille simply nodded. This was common. Cyrille didn’t talk much, and his father clearly felt rather awkward around him. It was hard to blame him. The man had thrown his life away because of something that was Cyrille’s fault. And Cyrille was pretty beaten up about that particular something too. It was just a little bit awkward being in the same room, but then again it’d probably be a lot worse with his mother...
”Right, well, it’s late so you best be going to bed.”
Speaking of his mother... How the heck did he get talked into this?
This table was much longer than it needed to be, as only two people sat at it. One sat at either end, significantly far away from each other. Perhaps that had been done on purpose, for on one end sat none other than Cyrille Lecuyer. On the other? His mother. The two hadn’t talked in... what? Four years? That sounded about right. It made sense, after all. Cyrille was terrified of her.
The woman smiled pleasantly like she always did. Whether that smile was genuine or not was anyone’s guess, but it looked pretty damn convincing. Cyrille, on the other hand, did not smile. He rarely smiled, and now was no exception. Right now he focused on breathing evenly. He didn’t want to snap at his mother or something, after all. That being said being in the same room as her was absolutely terrifying.
They had remained sitting like this in complete silence for about a half hour now. Cyrille was taking a long time to calm down this time around. It was somewhat lucky that he and Ophelie had ended up looking more like their father. Well, they both looked like either parent in some regard but there was no point thinking about that too much. Nope, none. His brain could shut up about that kind of thing anytime it wanted to.
Cyrille had been simply staring down his mother while he tried to get his mess of thoughts under control. Surely her cheeks were starting to hurt. Even so... she kept on smiling. Cyrille had forgotten how much he adored his mother. That was a shame.
His father had managed to talk him into this actually. Or perhaps trick was a better word. Cyrille did not know that it was his mother that he was meeting until he had actually arrived at the front door of the rather large house. It was a house similar to the one he had grown up in. If he remembered correctly, his mother now lived with his grandparents. They were currently not around. On vacation, probably. He wasn’t quite sure.
<<Sorry, I->> Cyrille begun, but his voice cut off into a whimper. Pathetic. He couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Fortunately Cyrille didn’t need to wallow in self pity for too long as his mother spoke up almost immediately after she was sure he wasn’t going to start talking again. <<It's alright.>>
Her smile grew even brighter with that. Gah, she was so unearthly nice. Putting up with all this nonsense... Hah. Cyrille had missed her. He could feel himself smiling slightly.
A moment later and she stood up. <<Well, let me go get dinner then. It is Christmas, after all.>> She said, exiting the room. Cyrille remained quiet as he waited for her to return.
The food had been excellent. That was to be expected, of course. His mother was a good cook. He remembered that much. She had taught him how to cook and he wasn’t too bad at it either. Of course, he never indulged on such fancy ingredients. Those were expensive, so he reserved them for special occasions. There had yet to be a special occasion.
They had eaten in complete and utter silence. Cyrille had, for the most part, conquered his nerves by now but he still wasn’t really the talkative type. Neither was his mother. Cyrille did not mind the silence for a second, but he felt as though his mother might. And then he’d feel bad.
<<Oh, that reminds me!>> Cyrille’s mother suddenly spoke up, almost causing him to jump. <<I have a little something for you. It is Christmas, after all! Let me go get it.>> Once again she was up, and once again Cyrille waited for her to come back in complete silence.
The wait this time was much shorter. Of course, his mother had probably already had this planned. In fact, she probably had had just about everything that happened this evening planned out. She returned with a small box, wrapped in pretty gold paper and held together with a glittering red bow. <<Don’t open it until you get back to school, okay?>>
Cyrille blinked. Gah, she was talking circles around him. But he then shook his head and reached for the small box which had been placed on the table before him. A bit far away just so she made sure to not get too close. He looked at the packaging for a moment or two, a bit dumbfounded that he was being given a trinket. Cyrille had never liked receiving things much. He made that known. But instead of saying that...
Post by Irene Dixon on Nov 30, 2014 21:17:43 GMT -5
The incessant tapping was both grating and comforting. Irene found herself being driven away from the airport, sitting in the passenger seat. One of her mother’s students was driving, a chipper young girl that just chatted away. Irene did little more than odd and raise an eyebrow, besides her constant tapping of her fingers on windowsill. On and on the girl went, just as continuous as her own tapping. That comfort remained, that she could merely think while she still had time before getting home.
Mother and Father awaited her. They had talked by phone a few times, each of them had written a few letters. Back when Melissa was her partner, she updated her parents somewhat often. But after that.... Not so much. The couple knew that Irene had lost her partner, but nothing else. Irene hadn’t communicated much after that, hadn’t seen them, she had merely expressed that she was still living. From what she understood, her parents still lived in the same place. Who would want to leave their specifically designed studios? Knowing that they were leaving the bustle of the city, Irene began tensing up. What would they talk about? Would they force her to talk about Melissa? Would they say nothing and remain silent for this weekend? The closer they got to the home, the more uneasy Irene felt.
Car stopped and they were there. Stepping out of the car, retrieving her carry-on from the trunk, she found herself waving goodbye to a girl she didn’t care to ever see again. A bright grin and a wave in return, the student pulled out of the driveway and was out of sight in mere moments.
No excuse to linger any longer, the weapon lowered her hand and turned slowly to look at the Dixon home. It was the same as it had always been. Looking bright and happy, the two story home had large stones framing the bottom story and faint cream siding for the second floor. The front door was a welcoming white with a single stair formed by the same stone as the bottom story. Walking slowly, she tried to not focus on how much she didn’t want to be here. She longed to be on a mission with Levi. That was such a different battle… at least then she could take her weapon form without any question.
Without warning, the front door shot open. Her mother came racing out the door. Ira was a woman that was always smiling, bright and upbeat, a pianist that understood musicians as both people and artists. Irene’s bag slipped free from her grip as she felt her mother’s arms encircle her body. Having a few inches on her mother, it wasn’t hard to peer over the female and watch the front door for another figure. Even as she slowly circled her arms around her mom and gave a bit of a squeeze, seeing as she felt like she was being clung to, she saw her father.
Very tall, medium build, a powerful face. He didn’t look like your average violin player, but he was quite gifted. His arms crossed over his chest, he almost looked like he was going to lean against the door. His eyes were mostly stern but held a vague look of glee, his lips were ever so slightly upturned at the sight of his wife and daughter together again.
Irene hadn’t realized it, but her mother had been talking. Vision being clouded by a woman moving to her tiptoes and coming face to face with her, Irene’s eyes widened slightly with surprise. Being tugged ever so slightly forward, her mother was ushering her inside. A quick glance told her that her father had retreated back into the house. Grabbing her bag, she moved to follow her mom. Ira was talking easily now, updating Irene on her piano students, competitions they recently had won, performances that Peter and her had done, and obvious excitement about the food they were going to consume.
It all just went by so fast. Everything her mom was saying, being ushered to her old room, it looking the same, memories flooding back. It was like stepping into a timewarp. She was a child again. And now they were going to play house and pretend that everything was well and good. And that was perfect. Her parents could talk about their lives and maybe she could let hers alone for now.
Dinner went by just as she had imagined it would. The three of them sat down at the main dining room table, food on serving plates all over it. It was about average, her mother wasn’t the greatest cook in the area, but that fit Irene just fine. Her father spoke of the characters he had met, commented on a few of her mother’s students, and even told stories of the mixture of humility and pride he saw on his travels. Both amazed him, for different reasons. Irene listened attentively, asked questions, laughed along with them, it was all like a normal innocent conversation. The main dinner was finished then, they continued talking for a bit and soon after Ira announced she would get the pies.
Cutting and serving them, each of them had their own slice of pie in front of them. Apparently over dessert was the time to ask the painful questions.
“We know you’ve been avoiding us ever since Melissa. What happened to her? What are you doing now? You had to have found another partner, right?”
Peter’s words rung clear across the table. Apparently, her mother was as surprised about the onslaught of questions as Irene was. The shorter woman was mid-bite, fork still in her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at her husband. That look was so familiar, if only Irene had been looking to her mother. Her gaze was down. On the pie that seemed like it would be so sweet, but now she could only imagine a bitter taste. Each question stung more than the other.
Bringing up Melissa. What happened. What was she doing. Finding someone else.
Irene knew her father. He expected much, especially from his own blood. Irene was supposed to be far past success. In his eyes, she should have never lost Melissa. She should know exactly what happened to her. Irene should be stepping up regardless, not weeping over the past. She was supposed to find a partner, move on, and be great.
Silence was the fourth companion at that Thanksgiving table. Ira cleared her throat once, her fork just barely being heard being set onto her plate again. Irene didn’t look up to see either of their faces. Her father’s gaze was burning through her skull. Peter would never look away until he got an answer…. In fact…. he’d try again.
“You can’t avoid shortcomings. You have to forget them and use what you have in the moment. It’s like playing, you know that.”
She hadn’t even answered and she was getting a scolding. While she may have been uncomfortable and somewhat irritated before, now she was furious. Just because he was a great solo violinist didn’t mean he knew her problems. He was different. Everything was different. And it didn’t all depend on her, she was only responsible for so much of fate. Her hands balling into fists beneath the table, she still refused to look up. Her anger was kindled. Months ago she would have passed it off as nothing, easily, but now….
“Irene. Answer m-.”
“It has been wonderful to see you mother.”
Her face held nothing but anger and coldness, all of it focused on her father. Words directed to her mother, she looked to none other than her father. Standing as she spoke, she was on her feet now and had the chair somewhat pushed back. Unclenching her fists just long enough to push the chair farther back behind her, she stepped to the side of her chair.
“If I can get a ride to the airport, I can leave in a few hours.”
Grief was obvious on her mother’s face, the woman looking from her daughter to her husband. She knew that was just him, but also knew that she was losing her daughter she hadn’t seen in so long. A bit of a plea came from the woman, but a harsh look from her husband and the dead set determination on Irene’s face stopped the words quickly. The stubborn duo were done.
In a matter of twenty minutes, Irene had repacked her things and was in the car with her mother. The first bit of the drive had been quiet, neither wanting to say anything right away. Ira was eventually the one to break the silence.
“It was nice having you home. Your father especially thinks so. I know you think he’s pushy, but that’s how he shows he cares.”
The woman’s soft-spoken words were met with silence, Irene not looking to her either. They both knew that was how he was. But… it didn’t mean it that his words didn’t drive her crazy. Letting the words sink in, Ira eventually spoke again.
“I miss you, Irene. You’re my little girl.”
The words sounded sad and Irene felt a pang of guilt. When she had lost Melissa, her mother had lost her as well. That was… horrible of her. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. What could she say? Sorry? It was such a simple word…. it can’t mean that much unless backed up. So, the remainder of the car ride was silent.
At the airport, the port and street lights were the only thing that illuminated the cars. Sun down by this time, both women got out of the car. Retrieving Irene’s bag from the trunk, Ira came around to hand it to her daughter. Both women found themselves surprised as Irene hugged her mother, held her tightly, and began speaking.
“I miss you, mom. But I need to find my way.”
A few tears trailing down her face, Irene pulled back to look at her mother. A faint smile on her face, she saw her mother still obviously surprised, but also pleased by the turn of events. A soft smile on her mom’s face, she patted her daughter lightly and appreciatively.
“I’m partnered with a prince. I don’t think I could have asked for a more skilled partner.”
A light grin on her own face, she saw her mother relax and smile back.
“You’ll do great. Work to be who you want to be, Izzy.”
With a roll of her eyes, but an appreciative grin, Irene picked up her bag and started into the airport. At the doors, she glanced to her mom and waved back. The woman was obviously crying by now, but waved in return before getting in her car and driving away.
It may have only been a few hours at home, but that’s all Irene wanted. Appreciative for flight tickets that she could change the return flight home at a moment’s notice, the girl would be on her way back to Death City in no time.
Charmie: eyes on fire, knees weak, palms sweaty
Mar 19, 2017 16:15:05 GMT -5
Morrigan: Do I sense lurking?
Jan 31, 2017 13:26:09 GMT -5
Skyye: the application
Dec 18, 2016 22:42:04 GMT -5
Skyye: The place is slower than I like to see. Though I would definitely play with anyone who stops by! If you're new, it's best to look around and see what sort of character you might like to play or be interested in playing. Hit up the rules and go over
Dec 18, 2016 22:41:54 GMT -5
Scarlet Sakura: I am new here, what do you do?
Dec 15, 2016 19:12:49 GMT -5
Minty : should I join?
Dec 9, 2016 19:57:17 GMT -5
sunjikuro: Is this place dead??
Dec 8, 2016 1:22:51 GMT -5