Post by Cara Belfast on Jun 1, 2016 18:33:40 GMT
A Moment in Time - Pewter Cups
Cara leaned against one of the manor kitchen's broad countertops, their dark wooden grains foaming from the recent liberal application of dish water. The smell was potent; what with the fresh lye soap having been made nary two nights before. Even Cara's face was more sour than usual as she finished running a clean, damp towel along the rim of a pewter mug before stacking it neatly on its top alongside several others.
Her fingers lingered for but a moment, and in that brief, heedless instant, a memory played across her stoic features.
"But why do I have to do it? That's nanny's work...and he's older than me..." A young Cara, little more than eight years of age, complained quietly; scowling at the feet of her mother who folded her arms with a look of solemn disapproval at the girl who would eventually take her place. Sighing, the older woman reached out to tuck one of the stubborn red curls behind her protégé's ear, before letting the fingers slip beneath the girl's small chin in a familiar gesture of both patient and patronizing portents.
"It is the noble task into which you were born, my dear..." She sighed. "Like your father and I... Like your grandparents, and their parents before them..." The woman stood up straighter, adopting a pose indicative of both her pride and training. "We are Belfast, sworn of the Myreque; born to serve and protect the legacy through which our households first bonded so long ago."
The woman looked down just in time to see Cara silently mouthing the last few words of her speech verbatim. Scoffing slightly, she gave the girl's chin a sharp pinch, making her wince and pull away with a mischievous grin.
"I know, Mother." Cara said with a coy expression. "I promise to pour the tea into his cup this time, and not his lap."
"See that you do!" The woman called out as Cara turned and made her way out the kitchen door. Walking over to the window, she watched her daughter's summer blue skirt bounce across the green lawn as she made her way to the Myreque servant's quarters beyond the fence that divided the two properties. Shaking her head, she returned to her own work; running a clean, damp towel along the rim of a pewter cup...
Scowling, Cara's mind returned to the present. She looked up at the cupboard in which she had stacked all the wine glasses, steins, and...
Reaching out, she picked up the pewter mug she had put away only moments before; giving it a turn or two between her pale, slender fingers. The corner of her mouth betrayed only the slightest hint of a smile, and she twirled the cup once by the handle before taking it with her upstairs.
Cara leaned against one of the manor kitchen's broad countertops, their dark wooden grains foaming from the recent liberal application of dish water. The smell was potent; what with the fresh lye soap having been made nary two nights before. Even Cara's face was more sour than usual as she finished running a clean, damp towel along the rim of a pewter mug before stacking it neatly on its top alongside several others.
Her fingers lingered for but a moment, and in that brief, heedless instant, a memory played across her stoic features.
"But why do I have to do it? That's nanny's work...and he's older than me..." A young Cara, little more than eight years of age, complained quietly; scowling at the feet of her mother who folded her arms with a look of solemn disapproval at the girl who would eventually take her place. Sighing, the older woman reached out to tuck one of the stubborn red curls behind her protégé's ear, before letting the fingers slip beneath the girl's small chin in a familiar gesture of both patient and patronizing portents.
"It is the noble task into which you were born, my dear..." She sighed. "Like your father and I... Like your grandparents, and their parents before them..." The woman stood up straighter, adopting a pose indicative of both her pride and training. "We are Belfast, sworn of the Myreque; born to serve and protect the legacy through which our households first bonded so long ago."
The woman looked down just in time to see Cara silently mouthing the last few words of her speech verbatim. Scoffing slightly, she gave the girl's chin a sharp pinch, making her wince and pull away with a mischievous grin.
"I know, Mother." Cara said with a coy expression. "I promise to pour the tea into his cup this time, and not his lap."
"See that you do!" The woman called out as Cara turned and made her way out the kitchen door. Walking over to the window, she watched her daughter's summer blue skirt bounce across the green lawn as she made her way to the Myreque servant's quarters beyond the fence that divided the two properties. Shaking her head, she returned to her own work; running a clean, damp towel along the rim of a pewter cup...
Scowling, Cara's mind returned to the present. She looked up at the cupboard in which she had stacked all the wine glasses, steins, and...
Reaching out, she picked up the pewter mug she had put away only moments before; giving it a turn or two between her pale, slender fingers. The corner of her mouth betrayed only the slightest hint of a smile, and she twirled the cup once by the handle before taking it with her upstairs.