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 Post subject: Bjondrig Manor
PostPosted: Mon Sep 02, 2013 5:28 pm 
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The Sheriff of Sonnelind shook the ice and snow off his boots as the night butler took his cloak. It had been a long night, and despite a two-hour hunt, he was still hungry. The Gangrel newcomer had shown him a few tips and tricks for hunting, though, and Yusuf was beginning to get the hang of them.

The butler produced a sealed letter. "Sir and Mrs. Holkirke send word, my Lord." Yusuf had not seen or heard from his great-granddaughter since over a decade before, when his own Lady Elenora had passed away. She had been only a child then, and it was still difficult to picture her otherwise.

Taking the letter in hand, the Sheriff climbed the oaken stairs to his bedroom. Since the Embrace, of course, it had served as more of a study, a place to keep watch on the Eastern horizon as he passed the final minutes of the night. A portrait of Elenora hung prominently on the west wall, smiling at the window from under a white veil. Yusuf's canopy bed with its silk sheets sat undisturbed opposite the door, as it had for nearly fifteen years. He took a seat at his desk by the window. Through the open curtains, he observed the night's final stars twinkling over the horizon, heralding the coming dawn.

A flowery perfume danced in the air as Yusuf unrolled the parchment.


Quote:
My dearest great-grandfather,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know you must still be distraught over the passing of our beloved Baroness Fhiele, as are Oscar and I. But let the sorrow of days past fade away, as Her Majesty the Baroness Abelianna leads our fair country onward.

It is in that spirit of new life, of hope for the future, that I write to you today. We have been given the greatest gift of all, one that fills our hearts with joy.

Sir Oscar and Maja Holkirke are proud to announce the birth of our son,
Rolund Holkirke,
at four hours past noon on the thirty-eighth day of Winter.

When the Spring comes, I would like to take young Rolund to visit you, dear Yusuf. If it please you, I would ask you to gather the whole family for the occasion; to think of five generations, all in one place! It would be the greatest of honors, and I would be in your debt.

Yours faithfully,
Maja


The young Cainite gazed at the horizon as he contemplated the letter. So very young was Maja, and so eager to start a family of her own. Just as eager, in fact — he spun his velvet-lined chair, moving his gaze to the portrait on the wall — as his Lady had been. She had borne their first son at nineteen as well, not more than a year after their wedding. The twinkle in her eye as she spoke of having a child — the portrait captured that look so perfectly. Yusuf tried to imagine the same spark in Maja's eyes, holding her infant son proudly before him, her face full of life, all the family looking on. He took the child from her hands and threw it aside; he grasped young Maja by the throat, stifling her fearful cries....

Yusuf caught himself approaching the portrait of Elenora, his cold hands clutching at thin air. He saw the warmth captured in her face, the flush of blood in her cheeks; he tried to forget the hunger welling up from within.

The Sheriff of Sonnelind turned away and stepped out of the bedroom, leaving Lady Elenora's visage to greet the Sun alone.


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