☼ RUTH OF HOUSE IESHAN ☼רות
"MOTHER SAYS THERE ARE LOCKED ROOMS INSIDE ALL WOMEN--"
"MOTHER SAYS THERE ARE LOCKED ROOMS INSIDE ALL WOMEN--"
If one of my siblings were to find me while I was searching, I had hoped that it would be Miriam. Or Hagar. Or even Adonai, though I have barely spoken to him since he fell ill. One of the ones that feels, politely, more dependable, or at least somewhat more inclined towards goodness than trouble.
Considering where I am, I seem most apt to attract Adonai’s attention, but, instead, I am interrupted in my search by the appearance of my youngest – and only younger – brother. I thought that Corradh was occupied by the painters, who have made an ornate canvas of his coat – winged and red and gold and beautiful and awful -, and I am not sure what has brought him to the hall of statues. (My brothers are usually antagonistic towards each other, and he must have known that Adonai would be here.) I turn to look at him, slowly. Knowing Corradh, he likely just got bored of painting, or of being painted, or of dealing with party guests falling at his hooves.
(Of all of my siblings, he is likely the worst for fickle romance. It’s going to get him into trouble – more than he already gets into – someday. I don’t bother commenting on it, though. I am not Miriam. I have never made a good older sister, and I have never been good at being any of my siblings’ keeper. I think that Mother would have despaired to have left any of us in my care, besides; I might have chosen to be a doctor, but I am no good as a caretaker. I lack too much for that.)
“Whatcha doing?” His voice is as sweet as sugar. “You look like you’re up to somethin’, Ruthy.” I wonder what all of the pretty young ladies who fawn over Corradh would think if they saw him acting like this, if his innocent act would be seen as charming or off-putting compared to his usual, princely demeanor. (And the accent! I'm sure they'd be alarmed by his drawl.) They might buy his acting; they usually do. I don’t. Not even for a minute; I know him too well for that.
I stare into his mischievous, emerald-bright eyes, and I resist the urge to grimace.
Corradh is always up to something or another. (All of my brothers are far more troublesome than most of my sisters. The older ones, at least. Now, Delilah – Delilah is something else.) Still. Now that he is already on my trail, there is very little use in trying to convince him that I’m not up to anything. Since he’s here, I might as well take advantage of him; if he doesn’t have anything better to do (and it is relatively rare for any of my siblings to have anything good to do), he should be able to help me search. “No,” I say, rather quickly, though flatly. “Up to something isn’t the right way to put it, Corr.”
I’m not lying – this is trouble, but it’s not as though I’m scheming something. I know better than to lie outright. (Mother, at least, raised us not to do that.)
“I’m looking for something – do you want to help me search?”
@Corradh || <3 || warsan shire, "the house"
Considering where I am, I seem most apt to attract Adonai’s attention, but, instead, I am interrupted in my search by the appearance of my youngest – and only younger – brother. I thought that Corradh was occupied by the painters, who have made an ornate canvas of his coat – winged and red and gold and beautiful and awful -, and I am not sure what has brought him to the hall of statues. (My brothers are usually antagonistic towards each other, and he must have known that Adonai would be here.) I turn to look at him, slowly. Knowing Corradh, he likely just got bored of painting, or of being painted, or of dealing with party guests falling at his hooves.
(Of all of my siblings, he is likely the worst for fickle romance. It’s going to get him into trouble – more than he already gets into – someday. I don’t bother commenting on it, though. I am not Miriam. I have never made a good older sister, and I have never been good at being any of my siblings’ keeper. I think that Mother would have despaired to have left any of us in my care, besides; I might have chosen to be a doctor, but I am no good as a caretaker. I lack too much for that.)
“Whatcha doing?” His voice is as sweet as sugar. “You look like you’re up to somethin’, Ruthy.” I wonder what all of the pretty young ladies who fawn over Corradh would think if they saw him acting like this, if his innocent act would be seen as charming or off-putting compared to his usual, princely demeanor. (And the accent! I'm sure they'd be alarmed by his drawl.) They might buy his acting; they usually do. I don’t. Not even for a minute; I know him too well for that.
I stare into his mischievous, emerald-bright eyes, and I resist the urge to grimace.
Corradh is always up to something or another. (All of my brothers are far more troublesome than most of my sisters. The older ones, at least. Now, Delilah – Delilah is something else.) Still. Now that he is already on my trail, there is very little use in trying to convince him that I’m not up to anything. Since he’s here, I might as well take advantage of him; if he doesn’t have anything better to do (and it is relatively rare for any of my siblings to have anything good to do), he should be able to help me search. “No,” I say, rather quickly, though flatly. “Up to something isn’t the right way to put it, Corr.”
I’m not lying – this is trouble, but it’s not as though I’m scheming something. I know better than to lie outright. (Mother, at least, raised us not to do that.)
“I’m looking for something – do you want to help me search?”
@Corradh || <3 || warsan shire, "the house"
HE FEEDS ME RED MEAT / HE WATCHES THE BLOOD POOL IN MY MOUTHlaughs at my red teeth❂please tag Ruth! contact is encouraged, short of violence
