- Messages
- 10,577
- OOC First Name
- Claire
- Blood Status
- Muggleborn
- Relationship Status
- Single
- Sexual Orientation
- Asexual
- Wand
- Straight 9 1/2 Inch Rigid Walnut Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
- Age
- 1/1999 (63)
Set at the beginning of the Christmas break, 2062.
Monty was afraid of a lot of things, but nothing frightened him more than his granddaughters' silence. Both Ainmere and Rion had been terribly quiet all evening, and neither would tell him what the matter was. Had he said something wrong? Had something happened at school? Were they worried about the camping trip? It was anybody's guess.
Still kneeling on his bedroom floor, he closed his suitcase. He had hoped the prospect of spending time with family would enliven them, but judging by their current mood, they would spend the entire weekend sulking in their tent. That would embarrass him, of course. Leda and Mervyn had gone to a lot of trouble organising everything. They'd booked the campsite (a private one, owned by a witch), hired the tents, and planned several days' worth of activities. They were even bringing the food. All anybody else had to do was show up and enjoy themselves. It wasn't a lot to ask; but it was too much, apparently, for his grandchildren.
He had to admit it. He didn't know what to do. Raising Saveli had been challenging at times, but he had never felt utterly helpless, not the way he did now, watching his grandchildren drift further and further away. Rion would open up eventually; she always did. But Ainmere was impenetrable. Sometimes he thought she hated him, though he knew it was more complicated than that. Mostly he just worried about her. It was dangerous to spend so much time inside your own head; Monty knew this better than most. Yet as long as she shut him out, there was nothing he could do to help.
After a few minutes, he got up and went down the hallway. Ainmere's bedroom door was already open, but he knocked anyway to announce himself. "Hello," he said. "Have you packed for tomorrow?"
Monty was afraid of a lot of things, but nothing frightened him more than his granddaughters' silence. Both Ainmere and Rion had been terribly quiet all evening, and neither would tell him what the matter was. Had he said something wrong? Had something happened at school? Were they worried about the camping trip? It was anybody's guess.
Still kneeling on his bedroom floor, he closed his suitcase. He had hoped the prospect of spending time with family would enliven them, but judging by their current mood, they would spend the entire weekend sulking in their tent. That would embarrass him, of course. Leda and Mervyn had gone to a lot of trouble organising everything. They'd booked the campsite (a private one, owned by a witch), hired the tents, and planned several days' worth of activities. They were even bringing the food. All anybody else had to do was show up and enjoy themselves. It wasn't a lot to ask; but it was too much, apparently, for his grandchildren.
He had to admit it. He didn't know what to do. Raising Saveli had been challenging at times, but he had never felt utterly helpless, not the way he did now, watching his grandchildren drift further and further away. Rion would open up eventually; she always did. But Ainmere was impenetrable. Sometimes he thought she hated him, though he knew it was more complicated than that. Mostly he just worried about her. It was dangerous to spend so much time inside your own head; Monty knew this better than most. Yet as long as she shut him out, there was nothing he could do to help.
After a few minutes, he got up and went down the hallway. Ainmere's bedroom door was already open, but he knocked anyway to announce himself. "Hello," he said. "Have you packed for tomorrow?"