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The Mansion

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Light Ice said:
On the steps, bundled in wax paper, a dozen tulips in a rainbow of colors lay.
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She emerged from the study with empty cup in hand and a growling stomach on her way to the kitchen when the riot of colors caught her eye. Steps taken to the staircase, where, since he had moved out, he had taken to leaving her flowers. Leaning over, she scooped them, cradling them in the crook of her arm as she continued her journey to the kitchen for food, coffee and now, a vase.

Her eyes admired the colors. Admired their exotic look as she arranged them in a vase. Standing back, leaning against a counter, she stared at the vision they made. She had almost gone to the barn and took Storm out for a midnight ride. She had quelled the urge. Not because of the man who lived in the loft. She could have gotten into the barn and out without waking a soul. No. Another night when she wasn't so tired and her senses remained sharp.

Everything was juggled and carried back to the study. The vase and tulips clamped under one arm to her side. Coffee in one hand. Food in another. Time to return to her writing and striking while the iron was hot.
 
A witch comes calling with another small gift. Something that made her think of both Cait and FD the instant she saw it. She is tempted to just leave it with a maid and go on her way but she is tempted to deliver it in person and see the reception it receives and so she knocks on the door and waits. If the lovely owner is out then the gift will be left behind.

The RW calls and with a sigh the witch leaves the small box with a maid. Inside is a small item, part jewellery, part lingerie. She hopes they won't be offended but it seemed perfect for them.
 
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She makes a stop by the mansion's gates. The estate, a beautifully daunting affair, makes her pause at the gate before she pushes it open to enter.

"Hello...? " The front door cracks open and a quiet voice echos through, bouncing back to her in an eerie reverberation. It makes her wonder if the lady of the estate will mind her company...
 
VampiricTouch said:
She makes a stop by the mansion's gates. The estate, a beautifully daunting affair, makes her pause at the gate before she pushes it open to enter.

"Hello...? " The front door cracks open and a quiet voice echos through, bouncing back to her in an eerie reverberation. It makes her wonder if the lady of the estate will mind her company...
Click to expand...

Stepping from the study, glasses in hand, nibbling on an ear piece in an absentminded way, she thought she heard someone. Turning the corner into the Great Room, she noticed VT standing in the hall and walked toward her.

"Good Evening, VT. What brings you to my home this time of night?"
 
Britwitch said:
A witch comes calling with another small gift. Something that made her think of both Cait and FD the instant she saw it. She is tempted to just leave it with a maid and go on her way but she is tempted to deliver it in person and see the reception it receives and so she knocks on the door and waits. If the lovely owner is out then the gift will be left behind.

The RW calls and with a sigh the witch leaves the small box with a maid. Inside is a small item, part jewellery, part lingerie. She hopes they won't be offended but it seemed perfect for them.
Click to expand...

Cait eyes spy a small box left on the hallway table as she greeted her visitor. Reaching out, she scooped it up and simply held it while she conversed with VT. Her curiosity was killing her, but it would have to wait to be opened.
 
Evening. I'm sorry to trouble you at such a late hour. I was looking for some... Perspective. I thought, if you had the time to... Maybe you could supply some.
 
VampiricTouch said:
Evening. I'm sorry to trouble you at such a late hour. I was looking for some... Perspective. I thought, if you had the time to... Maybe you could supply some.
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*smiling she gestured toward the couches in the Great Room*

"Come in, VT. Make yourself comfortable. I'm not sure if I can be help but I'm willing to try. What's on your mind?"

*she set the small gift on the coffee table as she sat down and waited for VT to joi8n her.*
 
She crosses the room and settles into a chair with a grateful nod.
"About writing. After watching the rise and fall of stories, the commitment then abandonment by cowriters... And the disappointment that comes with it, I'm thinking that I might just be taking writing... Too seriously. I understand that this is a forum. People come and go as they please. But is it wrong to hope for a story? To wonder what might happen after the characters first meeting, to plot beyond the moment of now?"
 
VampiricTouch said:
She crosses the room and settles into a chair with a grateful nod.
"About writing. After watching the rise and fall of stories, the commitment then abandonment by cowriters... And the disappointment that comes with it, I'm thinking that I might just be taking writing... Too seriously. I understand that this is a forum. People come and go as they please. But is it wrong to hope for a story? To wonder what might happen after the characters first meeting, to plot beyond the moment of now?"
Click to expand...

It's never wrong to hope for a story you're breathing life into. I think the key is that you can't take it so seriously. I take in consideration that my co-writers may not feel about writing as I do. It can be disappointing, yes. You just pick yourself up, dust yourself off and decide if you're going to try again. While I have this vague curiosity about how a story would turn out, it's not consuming. I have a storyline with Fr33k that we've been writing for just over a year now. Now THAT one would probably sadden me if it just fell by the wayside. When you write with others, you take the risk of never finding out how the tale turns out. It's just the nature of the beast. You control what you can, accept with grace what you can not and find another solution.
 
And where do you find it in yourself to restart a story that's fallen by the wayside? Do you restart stories that have fallen? Especially after investing so much time into making something you're proud of...

There's a part of me that says. What's the point? Of trying to write words that go nowhere, if after the invested time, the plot development, I'm expected to just step over the graveyard of stories. What's the point of trying so hard, and putting in so much... Kinda feel like a hamster running in an exercise wheel.

I don't know how much sense I'm making now. It's getting late. I'm sorry to be whining to you. Thank you. For listening and for the much needed perspective.
 
VampiricTouch said:
And where do you find it in yourself to restart a story that's fallen by the wayside? Do you restart stories that have fallen? Especially after investing so much time into making something you're proud of...

There's a part of me that says. What's the point? Of trying to write words that go nowhere, if after the invested time, the plot development, I'm expected to just step over the graveyard of stories. What's the point of trying so hard, and putting in so much... Kinda feel like a hamster running in an exercise wheel.

I don't know how much sense I'm making now. It's getting late. I'm sorry to be whining to you. Thank you. For listening and for the much needed perspective.
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It speaks of personal nature, VT. There is something that resides in me that will not stay down. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I get disappointed, I get discouraged and I've been dropped to my knees a few times. My spirit refuses to lie down. I may have to back up and regroup, but I seldom fail. I'll tuck the forsaken story on a mental shelf and at some point, will start it over. I don't look over my shoulder to see where I've been, how much time and effort I put into it. That's counterproductive. Unless it's a story that I really want to do just as it is? I'll tweak it, just a little. Go at it from a different angle or simply change my girl's name and appearance. *smiles* Life VT, is a hamster wheel. We can't escape it. We learn to adapt to it.

I understand you perfectly. I know exactly how you feel. I guess if there is anything I can offer you, it's don't give up. Find another way to attack it. Decide what is important and what is worth your time and effort and don't look back! Don't think about what you have done. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and decide if you want to do this. All of us have done things or started things and somehow, for some reason, never see the fruit of our labors come to bear. But we have, some of us just don't realize it because we don't see it for it is. Our own creativity being cultivated. We may start and stop, but it's still another stone we've hopped forward.

For those of us where writing is a calling not just a hobby, it is not an easy task master. Writers are a dime a dozen and mostly all of us are good at it. In this case, you just have to fall into the right partner. Now that, is a crap shoot at best.
 
A restlessness stirred through her blood. Sleep would not come. She tried. Slipping from bed so as not to wake him, she donned jeans, boots and a short sleeve shirt. Tonight she left her hair flowing. The world slept. She was used to it. She traversed the path from closet to door as quietly as she could, opening and closing the door in silence before making her way to study and the secret panel there. It sprung open under her fingertips. Her slight figure pressed past and the panel closed behind her. The same mirror was chosen. The air stirred as she stepped through it. Her dark Storm called and she was going to him. A ride was just what she needed to draw the restlessness from her soul.
 
The air in the barn shimmered as she stepped in, then settled. There were soft wickers and whinnies.

"Shhhh, beauties. We don't want to wake anyone," she spoke in a soft whisper. She headed for the tack room, pausing only to pet the noses of Rusher and Grace. She gave the twisting staircase a quick glance then slid into the room quietly, removing the equipment she would need.

Cait let herself into Storm's stall and started the routine of saddling him. Being an old hand at it, she was done in record time and was leading her horse from the barn. Leather creaked softly as she mounted up and gently spurred Storm toward the beach. She let the horse pick his way down the hill path to the sea. Once down on even ground again, she kicked the horse gently and they flew off the mark. Red hair streamed behind her as she leaned over the horse, whispering encouragement. Storm's tail flagged then straightened as they flew over the sand, sending sprays of it everywhere. Water splattered against his legs and on his lady. Neither cared a wit. Troubles, worries, they all fled from Cait's mind. Dark skies, bright stars, only the moon as a witness to their mad ride across sand and sea. Glorious.


~~:rose:~~​


They were gone a hour or two at most. She walked him up the hill path, slipping back into the barn. Cait slapped him on the rump lightly as he entered his stall without urging. Tack was removed, Storm was brushed down while she yawned. Tack was replaced where it belonged, well, on the saw horse, to dry. He would know when he came downstairs in the morning, obviously. She moved past the stalls, empty and occupied alike. She flicked off the soft lighting and let herself out of the barn, securing the door behind her, whistling softly Cait headed for the house, hands shoved into the back pockets of her jeans.
 
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