Music and Stone (Closed)

[Yvonne]

Yvonne felt thoroughly returned to her place as Matilda replied, the Mother’s tone bringing her back down to earth, the finality of her statement reminding her she was still a child in the eyes of this woman. She still had so much to learn, for all she had learned thus far and for how she’d been forced to maturity so swiftly. There was plenty yet in need of her consideration.

It was often difficult to walk the fine line between truly asserting herself and remaining behind the line in the sand of courtesy. For someone who had been bludgeoned to the point of near death as a child she easily overcompensated with who she was and the things she deemed needed saying. Others hadn’t spared her a thought back then - excluding her own mother, who was the most wonderful parent she’d ever known, and her mother’s girls of course - but everyone outside her front door had been hostile until Abel. So to keep others in mind as she made statements about her beliefs - let’s face it, she tried her best as she’d been tutored but there was refinement to be approached yet.

Henry’s astute rescue hadn’t escaped her sensitive silver eyes. She was more than aware of how effective well-timed facial expressions and body language could be in alleviating a potential argument. Neither was she ignorant to the notion that Henry had chosen to oppose his Matron’s line of thinking and side with the hybrid, brokering a peace between the three of them perhaps, but at what cost?

Yvonne had a sneaking suspicion the happy go lucky minstrel would, unluckily, find himself elbow deep in dish water after their next supper. He had crossed Matilda and while that was fine - we each make our own choices and follow our own path - there would be some kind of consequence for following a path the Matron didn’t necessarily approve of. The half-and-halfling decided she would be there to support him when the time came, wielding a drying cloth, battling the goblin-infested mountain of dishes together by his side.

She resumed her far more practiced skill of listening, holding her tongue and finishing up her soup. The baker’s bread was her favourite part of the meal, to be sure, her shifty fingers attracting the last crust from the middle of the table. She wondered whether this one had been the loaf she’d dislodged and subsequently caught upon their meeting. As she slipped the piece between her pillow lips and chewed thoughtfully, the conclusion she came to was that she would never know.

Yvonne had not anticipated Matilda’s bow before she retired for the night, caught with a mouthful of bread in her mouth - the drow-dwarf crossbreed offered the same respect as earnestly as she could in her chair, bobbing and nodding with an extended arm and hand at her side. She dared not chew until the Mother had paced from the room. When the elderly woman was well out of sight Yvonne turned back to the table, swallowing her food.

Her sterling silver eyes gazed into Henry’s wells of blue, smiling fondly over a subtle sparkle she found there. Yvonne loved how cocky he was being, confident in his equilibrium as he tenuously balanced his chair upon its back legs - it almost gave a feeling of floating above the ground and a person could draw assurance from the act. She placed the sole of her heel gently against his chair leg nearest to her, eyes flashing as she let him know his fate in the next moment was hers to decide. The little one could push him back into a clumsy, clattering descent onto the floor, or…

Yvonne lowered him down to all fours, receding her heel down the leg. As he instinctively gripped the table for safety she reached out to his hand with her own, soothing his sudden worry with her soft, caressing fingertips.

“That be a very smooth line ye have there,” she purred, smiling even more than she already was. “I bet it be effective on many of yer girlfriends. Does it mean I … have ye ta keep me company?”