Ventura
03-09-11, 11:53 PM
((closed))
“Hey mom, why does Vina’s singing voice suck?”
Sunlight washed over the regal dining room hall. The rays were warm and comforting, making the goldish hue of the furniture glow. But, the smell of eggs, toast and breakfast ham were much more pleasing to the hungry. The maid, Mathilda, walked over and gingerly handed out glasses of water. As forks and knives clinked against silver plates, the Black family sat parallel to each other on the twelve-seater table. A comforting breakfast was always in style at the Black Family Manor.
Stephanie Ventura Black scoffed at her little brother, Zac.
Elias Zachary Black was, for all intents and purposes, a huge pain in the ass. He was a raging teenage timebomb, which meant two things for Ventura: an endless almost-degrading quips about hot senior girls in his school, and an endless string of personalized insults. Fifteen years of living with a complete fool, you’d think she was accustomed to his teasing.
“You are such a vile creature,” she said, in between bites of egg and bread. “... Loser.”
Carlos Black lowered his eyes at his eldest, and only, daughter. His glasses slid down his bridge-lacking nose. “Language, Ventura. It’s breakfast.”
Carlos Adamo Ventura, the man of the house. A hard-working fellow, giving up so much time and energy to provide for his pride and joys. Carlos was the type to watch his kids fall asleep while their mother read them a story. He was the type to sweep his wife off her feet at every free moment he got, which unfortunately was not often enough. But, he was also the one who puts his foot down. One word from the man of the house, and the children turn into underlings.
“But he keeps talking,” Ventura grimaced.
“It’s cuz she keeps singing,” Zac piped up, bits of half-eaten white rice dropping from the side of his mouth. “I heard her in the bath today.”
Ventura rolled her eyes. “Please stop moving your mouth.”
“You shut-“
“Children...,” Ninamari interrupted demurely, taking a sip of her ice cold water. “Please be civil.”
The Siren of the family, Ninamari, is the loving mother and housewife to the Blacks. She wasn’t an ordinary Siren, longing for the ocean lagoons and the freedom they possess. She fell madly in love with a human, had children with him, and ended up dedicating her life to making them happy. She wasn’t born a typical Siren, a rogue, a wanderer. She was born knowing where to go, and that path led her to a fulfilling career as a mother. And she was a damn good mom.
“And anyway, don’t you have your interview with Rogue magazine today, sweetheart?”
Ventura swallowed the last chewed remnants of her egg. “Yeah, I was actually just about to leave.”
Ventura had been looking forward to this interview. She got the letter a few weeks back about Rogue, the most expensive Scara Brae magazine, and they were asking her to come in for an interview. Excited was an understatement, the aspiring journalist had been pleading for another publishing experience to come her way. Since graduating from Scara Brae University, with honours and two internships under her belt, she thought employers would be breaking down her door to hire her.
Unfortunately, her hopes were too high. She ended up working at the Dajas Pagoda as a lowly scribe and a part-time nurse. The scribing part of her job sucked, writing down names and dates and monster species and the like. The nursing part was better. She got to take care of injured creatures or worse (or maybe better?) dying warriors. The thrill of caring for the kill was strong. She always wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of the sword.
Finishing the last of her breakfast, Ventura grabbed her portfolio off the table. “I’ll see you guys later! Wish me luck!”
“Good luck, sweetheart,” her mother said, waving. “Be as impressive as you can be!”
“You’ll be great,” her father smiled widely.
“Later! Oh, and Zac, at least my singing isn’t as bad as your spelling! Check the errors on your poem for Alexandra Hudgens! I circled them in red!”
“Hey mom, why does Vina’s singing voice suck?”
Sunlight washed over the regal dining room hall. The rays were warm and comforting, making the goldish hue of the furniture glow. But, the smell of eggs, toast and breakfast ham were much more pleasing to the hungry. The maid, Mathilda, walked over and gingerly handed out glasses of water. As forks and knives clinked against silver plates, the Black family sat parallel to each other on the twelve-seater table. A comforting breakfast was always in style at the Black Family Manor.
Stephanie Ventura Black scoffed at her little brother, Zac.
Elias Zachary Black was, for all intents and purposes, a huge pain in the ass. He was a raging teenage timebomb, which meant two things for Ventura: an endless almost-degrading quips about hot senior girls in his school, and an endless string of personalized insults. Fifteen years of living with a complete fool, you’d think she was accustomed to his teasing.
“You are such a vile creature,” she said, in between bites of egg and bread. “... Loser.”
Carlos Black lowered his eyes at his eldest, and only, daughter. His glasses slid down his bridge-lacking nose. “Language, Ventura. It’s breakfast.”
Carlos Adamo Ventura, the man of the house. A hard-working fellow, giving up so much time and energy to provide for his pride and joys. Carlos was the type to watch his kids fall asleep while their mother read them a story. He was the type to sweep his wife off her feet at every free moment he got, which unfortunately was not often enough. But, he was also the one who puts his foot down. One word from the man of the house, and the children turn into underlings.
“But he keeps talking,” Ventura grimaced.
“It’s cuz she keeps singing,” Zac piped up, bits of half-eaten white rice dropping from the side of his mouth. “I heard her in the bath today.”
Ventura rolled her eyes. “Please stop moving your mouth.”
“You shut-“
“Children...,” Ninamari interrupted demurely, taking a sip of her ice cold water. “Please be civil.”
The Siren of the family, Ninamari, is the loving mother and housewife to the Blacks. She wasn’t an ordinary Siren, longing for the ocean lagoons and the freedom they possess. She fell madly in love with a human, had children with him, and ended up dedicating her life to making them happy. She wasn’t born a typical Siren, a rogue, a wanderer. She was born knowing where to go, and that path led her to a fulfilling career as a mother. And she was a damn good mom.
“And anyway, don’t you have your interview with Rogue magazine today, sweetheart?”
Ventura swallowed the last chewed remnants of her egg. “Yeah, I was actually just about to leave.”
Ventura had been looking forward to this interview. She got the letter a few weeks back about Rogue, the most expensive Scara Brae magazine, and they were asking her to come in for an interview. Excited was an understatement, the aspiring journalist had been pleading for another publishing experience to come her way. Since graduating from Scara Brae University, with honours and two internships under her belt, she thought employers would be breaking down her door to hire her.
Unfortunately, her hopes were too high. She ended up working at the Dajas Pagoda as a lowly scribe and a part-time nurse. The scribing part of her job sucked, writing down names and dates and monster species and the like. The nursing part was better. She got to take care of injured creatures or worse (or maybe better?) dying warriors. The thrill of caring for the kill was strong. She always wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of the sword.
Finishing the last of her breakfast, Ventura grabbed her portfolio off the table. “I’ll see you guys later! Wish me luck!”
“Good luck, sweetheart,” her mother said, waving. “Be as impressive as you can be!”
“You’ll be great,” her father smiled widely.
“Later! Oh, and Zac, at least my singing isn’t as bad as your spelling! Check the errors on your poem for Alexandra Hudgens! I circled them in red!”