05-26-2013, 08:34 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-26-2013, 08:36 AM by Nightharrow.)
There's a wild, wild whisper blowin' in the wind callin' out my name like a long lost friend. Oh, I miss those days as the years go by; Oh, nothin' sweeter than summertime.
During Chardonay Blackwood's youth, the end of summer marked the culmination of weeks of labor in the fields that were rewarded by feasts and folly. She'd spend days in the kitchen with her mother, baking cobblers, roasting boar and canning vegetables. It was her favorite time of year and her fifteenth will always be the one she remembers. One night in particular remains a source of joy and sorrow for the young widow.
"Char' y'kno 'ow I feel." True, she did know just by the way his green eyes always took her in, admiring her olive skin and dark hair. That look melted her heart and turned her stomach into a dance of butterflies. Still, she was raised proper and she wasn't about to be charmed over a midnight picnic. It'd take much more than sultry looks, strong arms and the pale moonlight to get a Barry girl.
"Radford Blackwood, don' you try to charm me just because the moon is high and we are all alone." Her words like always were stern, but her affection for the red bearded man ran deep. And as she cut into the cherry cobbler that would become his favorite, she purposefully gave him a look of her own. She knew the Blackwood's coveted her family's cherry orchard and she relished every opportunity she had to show the eldest son what he lacked. "Eat your cobbler. I made it fresh from a bundle picked just yesterday." He couldn't argue with that, the Barry cherries were the plumpest, juiciest cherries near the Blackwald. Most around there figured it was due to the foreigner's secret ways, Chardonay's father being a non-native to Gilneas. But really, the techniques used in the Barry orchards were deeply rooted in old magics and naught to do with the man, but his wife.
"Ah, as propa as y'are I nev' be good 'nough." His eyes still admired her, knowing full well despite the way she talked and how she looked that her roots ran as deep as the women in his family. As she passed him his plate, their hands touched, causing the hard callouses on his fingers to brush her soft skin. The brief touch elicited a spark that ran so fast through her that it skipped her heart completely and she withdrew her hand. A look of shame dropped his eyes. "Eve' my hands ain't good 'nough to touch ye"
"Oh, Radford it ain't that." She exhaled, the impulse to snog him fully overwhelming her. It wasn't the curse that made ma'am Blackwood rash, no, she had always been that way. In a matter of seconds, the girl had lept from where she sat next to him, knocking the plate right out of his hand. She wanted to kiss him and so that is exactly what she did. Thus, their first kiss was the result of a dainty farmer's daughter over powering a burly farmer's son. They would have gotten away with it too, had they thought to brush the grass off before she returned home.
*The above quote in bold is from "American Honey" by Lady Antebellum.
During Chardonay Blackwood's youth, the end of summer marked the culmination of weeks of labor in the fields that were rewarded by feasts and folly. She'd spend days in the kitchen with her mother, baking cobblers, roasting boar and canning vegetables. It was her favorite time of year and her fifteenth will always be the one she remembers. One night in particular remains a source of joy and sorrow for the young widow.
"Char' y'kno 'ow I feel." True, she did know just by the way his green eyes always took her in, admiring her olive skin and dark hair. That look melted her heart and turned her stomach into a dance of butterflies. Still, she was raised proper and she wasn't about to be charmed over a midnight picnic. It'd take much more than sultry looks, strong arms and the pale moonlight to get a Barry girl.
"Radford Blackwood, don' you try to charm me just because the moon is high and we are all alone." Her words like always were stern, but her affection for the red bearded man ran deep. And as she cut into the cherry cobbler that would become his favorite, she purposefully gave him a look of her own. She knew the Blackwood's coveted her family's cherry orchard and she relished every opportunity she had to show the eldest son what he lacked. "Eat your cobbler. I made it fresh from a bundle picked just yesterday." He couldn't argue with that, the Barry cherries were the plumpest, juiciest cherries near the Blackwald. Most around there figured it was due to the foreigner's secret ways, Chardonay's father being a non-native to Gilneas. But really, the techniques used in the Barry orchards were deeply rooted in old magics and naught to do with the man, but his wife.
"Ah, as propa as y'are I nev' be good 'nough." His eyes still admired her, knowing full well despite the way she talked and how she looked that her roots ran as deep as the women in his family. As she passed him his plate, their hands touched, causing the hard callouses on his fingers to brush her soft skin. The brief touch elicited a spark that ran so fast through her that it skipped her heart completely and she withdrew her hand. A look of shame dropped his eyes. "Eve' my hands ain't good 'nough to touch ye"
"Oh, Radford it ain't that." She exhaled, the impulse to snog him fully overwhelming her. It wasn't the curse that made ma'am Blackwood rash, no, she had always been that way. In a matter of seconds, the girl had lept from where she sat next to him, knocking the plate right out of his hand. She wanted to kiss him and so that is exactly what she did. Thus, their first kiss was the result of a dainty farmer's daughter over powering a burly farmer's son. They would have gotten away with it too, had they thought to brush the grass off before she returned home.
*The above quote in bold is from "American Honey" by Lady Antebellum.