Music and Stone (Closed)

[Yvonne]

Together they walked the road to the orphanage, Henry's fiddle in hand he played a delicate ditty while Yvonne hummed neatly in tune with his music. The last note strummed, the melody quietened to silence and the smooth minstrel decided it was the ideal time to apologize. Oh how the tables had turned. She was all apologies in the beginning and he had the choice between forgiveness and cruelty. It would seem the half-dwarf had the same choice to make. Would she forgive? Would she be cruel?

Henry held the door for her, allowing Yvonne the opportunity to enter the manor before him. His sense of chivalry was worthy of praise. A kind smile encouraged her inside, not a beaming grin anymore - still a little taken aback with her reaction she'd wager. As they stood in limbo - limbo between the outside world and the place he knew to be home - it was her turn to smile. A smile as warm and vivid as he'd bestowed with forgiveness. Her silver eyes flared wide with enjoyment and she started giggling, couldn't-- couldn't keep her laughter in. Gotcha. Yvonne one, Henry zero.

"Think nothing of it sweetheart. Me closest childhood friends were prostitutes. From those I've had tha pleasure of meeting I can say they be wonderful souls. Almost as wonderful as ye," she whispered, stroking his self-esteem soothingly. "I imagine ye love yer foster-brothers and foster-sisters dearly. We have that in common, a bond with family not of yer own blood. In a similar way ... three escorts were big sisters ta me." Yvonne touched the bard's elbow reassuringly, her gentle fingertips a momentary comfort as she passed through the doorway.

"Yer concern for me feelings be thrilling though," she said slyly, winking back at him. The dainty dwarf made her way into a wide open room, what looked to be a lobby or foyer. The orphanage was rustic inside as it was ramshackle outside, but there lingered a refined grandeur in the old building yet. You merely needed to remove your rose-tinted glasses to see it. Now that Yvonne was well inside the manor and felt safe - with the sun retired for the day - she raised her protective goggles from her eyes to have a better look at the place, resting them on her forehead. She was half-expecting a butler to attend her but she was out of luck there.

The Alerar-born contemplated Henry's second unnecessary apology, listening to all the sounds that resonated throughout the house, her elven ears detecting so many goings-on further inside. Yvonne could hear a bubbling pot in a distant kitchen. The clinks of setting cutlery and taps of bowls being placed at a table. She could hear the splashing of bathwater and soaked cleaning cloths slapping the water's surface. Girlish squeals of excitement, boyish laughter. The creak of the wooden door closing behind her as the minstrel followed her in. The drumming of little running feet on the floorboards a floor above her. They would be here to greet their big brother in five, four, three...

"We each work through our troubles in our own ways," the mixed breed justified for them, ever-aware there would be bullies. It was a house full of children after all. She was no stranger to mean children.