Post by Zen on Oct 12, 2021 14:13:56 GMT -5
Lizalia Age: 4 Turns
“Momma momma look!” the little blonde came running into the sitting room where Hiralia sat knitting.
The woman frowned upon hearing the girl and looked up from her work, “Lizalia, you’re meant to be napping… what is that?”
“A flit! Like daddy's!” the four turn old held up her new toy proudly.
“Is that one of my spoons?” her mother hardly sounded pleased as she set her knitting aside and shifted with some effort due to her very pregnant belly, pushing to her feet and holding out her hand, “Let me see that.” Grinning, the girl handed her ‘flit’ to her mother for inspection. It was a simple thing, but she’d made it all by herself and she was quite proud of it. “Young lady... is this fabric from your dress?” her mother sounded even less pleased now and Lizalia’s grin faltered at the harsh tone.
The girl’s hands went immediately to the hem of her dress as if she could hide the mutilated edge, “Um… maybe. But the flit needed wings, momma.”
“Child, I put you down for a nap. You were meant to be sleeping but instead you stole one of my spoons and destroyed your dress?”
Lizalia flinched, “But… but I wasn’t sleepy, momma….”
“That is hardly the point. You have plenty of toys, you don’t need to take things that aren’t yours and… just look at your poor dress!” The woman rubbed at her forehead in exasperation before pointing back to the child’s room, “Back to bed with you. Now.” She really didn’t understand why her mother was so upset. It was just one spoon, they had plenty of them, and it was her dress. So what if the edge was all ragged now? She didn’t mind. She held out her hand, expecting her new little flit friend back, but her mother only raised an eyebrow at her and then shook her head, “No. Bed. Now.”
Lizalia turned indignant, “But I made it!”
“With something that does not belong to you! Do not make me drag you back to your bed myself, young lady.”
Tears welled in the girl’s eyes at being denied and she yelled, “You’re mean!” But she quickly ran back to her room before her mother could scold her for that too.~~~
Lizalia refused to come out of her room after that, hiding under her blankets, not at all wanting to see her mother. She was too angry and upset with the woman. She didn’t feel like playing either. Zelhirin couldn’t even get her out from her blankets, though her brother certainly tried his best. Eventually he’d given up but not before calling her a baby. It left her wondering why everyone was being so mean today. She heard her father arrive home for dinner but just pulled the blankets closer around her, wondering how he would be mean to her next, because everyone was mean and she just wanted to be left alone.
From her room she could hear her mother and father talking, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She heard her father laugh, and her mother’s tone turn sharp shortly after. She reached up and covered her ears because she didn’t want to listen to them, closing her eyes tightly as if that would help drown out the sounds. She wished her door was closed, but she didn’t want to leave her blankets to do it.
Suddenly there was a weight on her bed that startled her and she kicked out at it, expecting Zelhirin again, “Go’way!”
The hand that came to rest on her foot was far larger than her brother’s though, “Liza, you made this by yourself?” Her father's voice, simply curious, with none of her mother’s sharp scolding tone. She peeked out from her blankets after a moment, hesitant, and saw him holding out her flit. She gave a little nod and then pulled the blanket back over her head, waiting for him to scold her too. Instead he laughed, a short, happy sound as he leaned over her and she squealed as his hands found ticklish spots even through the blanket. She wriggled, flailed, and giggled until her father relented, and the blankets had half fallen off her, “There, now I can see your pretty face.”
He reached up to tap a finger against her nose and she giggled again, shaking her head. She looked at her flit again where he had set it on the bed beside her and frowned, “Momma got mad at me.”
Chizewlin sighed, “Indeed. You shouldn’t take things without asking, Liza.” He saw the shift in her features, the defensiveness the scolding was bringing back out, and he leaned closer to whisper, “But I think you’re quite smart.”
She blinked up at him in surprise, then her eyes narrowed as if trying to decide if he was tricking her. She was tired of being scolded and if he was going to scold her more she would rather he just leave. “You do?”
“Mm… I would love to see what else you can make… but, not with your mother’s utensils,” there was amusement in his tone that softened the light scolding even more, “Or your dresses. Though I understand why you did it. You can only use what’s available to you, after all.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, rubbing at his chin, “Tell you what, I’ll find some things for you to use so you don’t have to take your mother’s things or ruin your dresses anymore.”
He wanted to help her make more things? “Really?” She’d been so proud of what she’d made and her mother’s displeasure over it all had hurt. She hadn’t expected her father to want her to keep doing it, not when it had made her mother so mad.
Chizewlin chuckled, “I got in trouble for it too, when I was little, but no one gave me another option. I could only use what I could find… and that sometimes meant things that weren’t mine.” He looked a bit sheepish about it, “But, fortunately for you, you don’t have to do that. I’ll bring you your own things to use if you promise not to take things that aren’t yours anymore. Or destroy your clothes. Your mother is very unhappy about that.”
She pulled the blankets up over her nose so only her eyes were visible, “What if there’s nothing gooder to use?”
He sighed again, “I understand that too… but if you’re patient I’ll bring you plenty of supplies and you won’t have to get in trouble with your mother again. Wouldn’t that be better?”
“I guess…,” she murmured. It was, but being patient was hard. She really didn’t like waiting for things.
“And… no more making things when you’re supposed to be napping,” he added.
She sat up unhappily at that, “But I’m not sleepy all the time!”
“You need to mind your mother, Liza. Especially right now with the baby so close…. If you’re a good girl I’ll bring you plenty of things so you can make whatever you like, but I can’t bring you gifts if you’re not listening and doing as your mother says. That’s plenty fair,” he insisted.
Lizalia let herself fall back onto her pillow, clearly not entirely happy about it, “I don’t like laying down and not doing nothing!”
Chizewlin chuckled again, “Could have fooled me. Your mother said you’ve been laying in here for hours.”
She didn’t really know what to say to that, as he was certainly correct, and muttered stubbornly, “It’s not the same.”
“Hm… well, it is up to you, my little tinkerer… be a good girl and I’ll bring you crafting supplies, or disobey your mother and get yourself in trouble again. No one can make your choices for you,” her father reached out to ruffle her hair affectionately and stood, “Now if you’re ready to apologize to your mother, you can come to dinner with me. Otherwise you’re welcome to stay here.”
Her lip jutted out in a pout at that. She didn’t want to apologize. She still didn’t know why her mother had gotten so angry. It wasn’t like she’d torn up her mother’s dress. And what was the big deal about one spoon? But then her tummy rumbled and she realized that if she didn’t apologize then she wasn’t going to get dinner tonight. With a frustrated little groan, she pushed the blankets off her and slid to her feet, “Okay….”
“Bring your toy along, you need to give the spoon back,” he told her then.
She grabbed it from her bed and clutched it to her chest, shaking her head, “No, I don’t wanna! It’s mine! I made it!”
A soft smile settled on his face and he crouched down to her level, “Don’t worry, Liza, you can make a new one. And you know what’s so great about that? Now that you’ve already made one, you’ll know how to make an even better one next time. One you can keep.”
A better one? She looked down at her little flit toy, so simple, and started thinking about how she could possibly make it better. That was kind of an exciting idea, wasn’t it? She could make an even better one. She still didn’t like having to give this one back to her mother… but she supposed if she could make a better one later then it was a small price to pay for dinner tonight. She looked up at her father and nodded once, grinning, “Okay daddy.” He smiled and stood again, holding out his hand for her and she took it so they could walk to the kitchen together. She took comfort in her father’s presence, and his support, as she prepared to face her mother.