03-06-2022, 12:29 PM
If Ruth had been aware of how many “quirks” were attributed to her with any complimentary intent, she would have suggested some self-analysis and some family analysis at large, refusing to take sole ownership of most of it and laughing at any potential declaration of innocence on her little brother’s behalf.
Now when it came to the business of identifying one (1) brother in the “crowd”, Ruth looked around for something apricot, turquoise, or maybe emerald. Founding nothing of that sort insight for an entire hour, she concluded her brother had deserted her and started mentally composing an overly dramatic letter that was, in the best-case scenario, only going to reach their mother and one of their siblings.
She had just settled on the word “undignified”, while she looked for a carriage -a decent one!-, when a sad brown suit approached her. She was ready to scream bloody murder at the stranger approaching, when she recognised him as her brother.
“Darling brother! I’ve sent a letter! But clearly the mugging must have influence your short term memory! No worries, I’m here to take care of you and I will find you a watch!” She wasn’t loud per se, but she always spoke as if she was meant to be.
No trace of an entourage. No servants. Even her hat could have looked normal in a big town and nothing she was wearing was decidedly masculine attire.
“Oh, dear, I am trying this new thing adventurers and terribly wordly people do of travelling light!” Which was not like her, especially because there was no sign of a musical instrument around her nor a struggling valet trying to transport it.
She stared top-down at Zechariah. He was taller than her, but she was wearing hills -admittedly not the most practical shoes, but definitely the most fashionable- once again and then around him. No help. Drab suit. No shame derived from drab suit. Jaw less than freshly shaven. Was her brother in disgrace? “Where is your carriage?” She asked looking around, with a sinking feeling, waiting for the perfect moment to elaborate on what she was seeing or mercifully giving her brother the chance to explain himself before she could make assumptions that could hardly be contradicted.
Now when it came to the business of identifying one (1) brother in the “crowd”, Ruth looked around for something apricot, turquoise, or maybe emerald. Founding nothing of that sort insight for an entire hour, she concluded her brother had deserted her and started mentally composing an overly dramatic letter that was, in the best-case scenario, only going to reach their mother and one of their siblings.
She had just settled on the word “undignified”, while she looked for a carriage -a decent one!-, when a sad brown suit approached her. She was ready to scream bloody murder at the stranger approaching, when she recognised him as her brother.
“Darling brother! I’ve sent a letter! But clearly the mugging must have influence your short term memory! No worries, I’m here to take care of you and I will find you a watch!” She wasn’t loud per se, but she always spoke as if she was meant to be.
No trace of an entourage. No servants. Even her hat could have looked normal in a big town and nothing she was wearing was decidedly masculine attire.
“Oh, dear, I am trying this new thing adventurers and terribly wordly people do of travelling light!” Which was not like her, especially because there was no sign of a musical instrument around her nor a struggling valet trying to transport it.
She stared top-down at Zechariah. He was taller than her, but she was wearing hills -admittedly not the most practical shoes, but definitely the most fashionable- once again and then around him. No help. Drab suit. No shame derived from drab suit. Jaw less than freshly shaven. Was her brother in disgrace? “Where is your carriage?” She asked looking around, with a sinking feeling, waiting for the perfect moment to elaborate on what she was seeing or mercifully giving her brother the chance to explain himself before she could make assumptions that could hardly be contradicted.
