smallestopener: (older eyes closed)
Ingress of the House of Arch ([personal profile] smallestopener) wrote2010-05-09 12:38 am

Trust dreams. Trust your heart, and trust your story.

Ingress had a brilliant birthday. She’s eleven. Eleven is nearly grown up! It’s also the year when children in the stories she’s read come into their own. Adventures begin, schooling starts, worlds are saved… she can hardly wait to see what will happen next.

Her party earlier was such fun. Door was almost nice to Puck; Ingress had worried a little about that after she invited him. But he was very nice and charming, and Tom was nice, too, and Puck helped Ingress steal lots of roses off the cake while Havelock talked to Tom and Door, and it was brilliant.

She ate far too much icing sugar, but Tom had the peppermint potion waiting for her when the party was over. She feels much better now. And she’s eleven!

It sounds so good in her head. Eleven, eleven, eleven.

She should have asked Mary to stay the night with her, she thinks, as she tosses and turns. She’s never going to fall asleep, even with staying up past her bedtime. Tom and Door insisted she go to bed after she started yawning. They can be so silly sometimes.

She tosses one more time, and she thinks, again, how impossible it will be to go to sleep tonight. Her eyelids flutter and close. It is not long before she’s deep in dreams.
youowemeafavor: (stern as stern can be)

[personal profile] youowemeafavor 2010-05-23 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
The lady Ingress is no longer as small as she used to be, but that's to be expected as someone grows. They do say people grow up for a reason but still he crouches now so that they might be closer to eye level. Well aware of his reputation and his somewhat stormy relationship not only with Lord Portico's family but with most in the Underside, he also knows how to talk to the young when he sets his mind to it.

"A lesson learned. People are rarely what they seem." Standing again, his hand meets a small carved item in his pocket. If that doesn't serve as a reminder, nothing does. "Even angels. We'd all be wise to remember that."

He's very good at fading into the shadows, and the fog doesn't hurt that ability in the least. "Tell me, what brings you out here tonight?" It's not a good night for a young lady, but most nights in London Below are unfit for proper company. That's precisely why he fits in so well.
youowemeafavor: (would you defy me?)

[personal profile] youowemeafavor 2010-05-23 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
Though she might not see it in the darkness, he raises one eyebrow, all skepticism, and sets his hands on his hips.

"You see butterflies? And do you suppose these butterflies are without shadows themselves?"

It's a question with value, and one worth exploring. Angels aren't the only beings who can be deceptive.
youowemeafavor: (so disbelieving I turned my head)

[personal profile] youowemeafavor 2010-05-23 03:28 am (UTC)(link)
"And a heart never lies." It's not a question, but a statement of fact. Thoughtful now, he taps a finger against his lower lip, sending the trailing sleeves of his shirt fluttering in the night's stillness.

It's time.

"Do you need an escort through the darkness, Lady Ingress?" Now he leans to whisper into her ear. "I'm beholden to Lord Portico." His voice is soft; no one else gets to hear about his debts or about those who owe him favors. That's a good portion of London Below. He's been offering his assistance -- in exchange for favors -- for a very long time.