happy friday Ann!! how about 🍵Spilling tea (by accident or on purpose/literal or metaphorical - or both!), from the tea party prompts?
I feel like I must write more of Henrietta from my random Henrietta stories (seen here, with an ongoing fic here). The idea grabbed hold of me and I wasn’t able to stop. For @dadrunkwriting
Henrietta’s great-grandmother swept into the ancestral home like a summer storm- loud, fierce, and overwhelming.
Great Grandmothers were a serious business, but Lady Adelaide Trevelyan was clearly something else. She never visited Ostwick while Henrietta was alive, always preferring that everyone come to call on her at her townhouse in Val Royeux, so something was afoot. Henrietta saw it in the way everyone, from the servants to the steward to her own family, bustled about the place with a frantic, restless energy.
Grandfather and Grandmother prepared for her arrival with the same grim determination of the fishermen and sailors on Ostwick’s docks. Grandmother had the finest guest bedroom prepared with crisp white linen edges with lace and prepared every menu with the cook. Mother helped organize servants and purchase certain delicacies for the table: fresh fish from the sea, oysters harvested that very morning, port from Antiva, whiskey from Starkhaven, tea from Rivain, even a pineapple from the hothouse!
Grandfather, on the other hand, went over the account books with Father, She might be retired, Father said darkly to Mother, but Grandmother won’t relinquish control until she’s dead and her ashes are bottled up. And maybe not even then. Mother only sighed and murmured for Father to mind his manners at supper, for there were delicate ears present. Henrietta wanted to reply that she heard stable master Tom curse a blue streak just this morning, but she held her tongue. If Mother knew that she might not get to go to the stables again after her lessons, and Tom would certainly be scolded.
Whatever the case, everyone was busy and Henrietta was rather bored. There wasn’t a lot for a girl of twelve springs to do when she had no tasks to take care of and couldn’t call on an escort into town. Not that Mother would let her go into town- maybe when you’re older, she would say, and that was the end of that conversation. So Henrietta took to wandering the manor, poking her nose into every nook and cranny in search of something interesting, something hitherto unseen that might provide some form of entertainment.
She was wandering the portrait gallery when she found it. Henrietta peered at the collection of family miniatures arranged in the curio cabinet. There was Father as a boy, his scowl familiar in that baby face. And there was Mother’s miniature she sent when their families first started with marriage talks, her dressed in blue with white silk roses in her hair. There were her uncles, all arranged by age as she went down the line. It was all familiar territory, until her gaze fell upon an otherwise unremarkable little watercolor of a little girl.
Her dark hair (umbar brown, nearly black in the pale morning light) was restrained by a thick pink satin ribbon, and her white dress had matching pink trim and a waistband. Her round face and chubby cheeks indicated that the girl was young (four, perhaps five), but there was no mistaking her sandy brown skin or those thick brows furrowed into a fierce pout. This baby, the last portrait in the lengthy line of her uncles, was a Trevelyan.
But who was she? Henrietta peered closer until her nose was nearly squashed against the glass. Deep set dark eyes with heavy lids, just like Grandfather’s. Perhaps a... Henrietta shook her head and dismissed the thought immediately. Grandfather would never! And if he had, no one would set out a portrait of a bastard child among the legitimate. No, there was something else to this mystery, something that she was missing. Henrietta frowned and stepped away from the cabinet.
“Maybe you’re somewhere on the family registry,” she informed the miniature. “Someone cared enough to have your portrait painted. Maybe-”
“Henrietta? Henrietta, darling, your Great-Grandmother’s carriage just arrived!” Mother called from down the hall, probably from the music room. Henrietta scrambled away, but she glanced over her shoulder at the cabinet.
“Later,” she promised. She’d find answers later. She ought to have known she couldn’t hold her tongue in the face of such a great mystery.
“You have certainly grown since I saw you last, Henrietta,” Great Grandmother asked. She was a short woman, her steel grey hair piled upon her head like a cloud, and was dressed in a severe, elegant maroon dress with black lace, and a garnet and diamond brooch at her throat. Even the way she spoke was crisp and elegant. Great Grandmother was so commanding that it felt more like she was hosting this little afternoon tea. Grandmother was unable to attend, but Henrietta sat next to her mother on the settee across from Great Grandmother Adelaide to enjoy the spread of dainty cakes and sandwiches and scones and jam. Even the teapot and cups were the best in the household, the porcelain so thin you could see the sun through it, like an eggshell.
“Thank you, Lady Adelaide,” Henrietta recited, and when Mother raised one eyebrow she hastily added, “Would you like sugar in your tea?”
“No, the milk will do,” Great Grandmother said. “Now, Emily, I am to understand that Henrietta is not to attend school?”
“We’ve judged it too soon for that, ma’am. Perhaps in a year or two, we will consider it,” Mother said. “Perhaps by then we can convince Henrietta to take interest in other subjects than horses.” It was a gentle joke, one that Mother made often, but Henrietta blushed at the remark. She had made an effort to dress up for tea, after all, and she hadn’t spent the day in the stables, but instead-
“Ah, a Trevelyan through and through,” Great Grandmother sighed. “But such is the way of Trevelyan children. I’m afraid they all run wild when they are young.”
“Like the girl in the miniature cabinet?” Henrietta blurted out. A silence fell across the tea table, and Henrietta wanted to kick herself. She hadn’t even lasted an afternoon before she spilled out her secret! Mother stared at her as if she had grown another head, but Great Grandmother...
“Ah. I didn’t realize that Evelyn’s portrait was back in the case,” Great Grandmother said, her voice measured and strong. “It’s been a long time.”
“I had it put up. It felt... appropriate,” Mother said. She sounded normal, but Henrietta noticed the way her teacup shook slightly in her hands, as if she was nervous. Her mother, nervous? It couldn’t be.
“It’s certainly a statement,” Great Grandmother agreed. “Perhaps we should send an artist to Haven. For documentation purposes, of course. Historical legacies and all.” She seemed to think that was a fine joke, and chuckled into her tea cup as Mother breathed out a soft sigh of relief. Henrietta’s mind swam with these new little bits of information. The little girl had a name. Evelyn. And somehow her portrait being added to the family cabinet was now appropriate when before it wasn’t, and Lady Adelaide Trevelyan made a joke about sending an artist to Haven, a joke that was connected to Evelyn somehow. Haven... Haven... wasn’t that where the Grand Cleric went, that little town next to the Temple of Andraste that blew up? And now- The Inquisition! What did that little girl with the grim expression and dainty white dress and pink ribbons have to do with the Inquisition?!
Very mysterious indeed! “Pardon, Gr- Lady Adelaide,” Henrietta asked, hungry for answers. “But who is she? Evelyn, I mean.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t know?” Great Grandmother blinked, her icy blue eyes as wide as an owl’s. “You haven’t the slightest inkling?”
Henrietta shook her head. Great Grandmother shook her head, muttered something under her breath that would have put stable master Tom to shame, then set her mouth into a grim, wrinkled line.
“Evelyn Trevelyan is my granddaughter and your aunt,” she said firmly. “Poor dear’s gotten herself tangled up with that mess in Haven, I’m afraid. Haven’t seen her in years, ever since that business in Kirkwall shook up the Chantry to its foundations. Locked all those Mages up in their Circles and threw away the key! Couldn’t even bribe those Templars to get in to see her.” She sounded annoyed by that, though Henrietta couldn’t tell if it was the fact that she stooped to bribery or that her bribe was rejected that insulted her grandmother more.
“I’ve been trying to meet her for years,” Mother confessed, “but it was no use. Blood relations only, I was told.” Henrietta wondered if this is what her grandmother meant whenever she said she felt faint. It was as if some great wind swept through the parlor, upsetting everything in one powerful gust, and now she was sitting in the aftermath of the destruction. An aunt. That little girl was her aunt! And her mother tried to visit her, her great grandmother who never came to Ostwick apparently made secret journeys to see mysterious Aunt Evelyn, and yet she wasn’t allowed to now because.... because...
“An aunt? I have an aunt? In a Circle?” Henrietta interrupted. “That-”
“Yes yes, a Mage. Terrible business, we were going to have her marry that Starkhaven boy, they were of an age- but perhaps it was a good thing after all, considering how they ended up...” As her great grandmother talked about marriages and ruined plans and old history, Henrietta mused over mysteries solved and new ones uncovered. The girl in the miniature had a name. She wasn’t a girl anymore, but an aunt, one who was apparently alive and doing something important in Ferelden. And she was a Mage, which meant she was extremely mysterious and, therefore, extremely interesting.
Perhaps her aunt would like a letter. She would have to ask her father all about her.
welcome to my page! my name is valvatorez, but you can call me val. i'm 20 years old, autistic, nonbinary (librafluid/agenderflux), biromantic, aegosexual, and i use primarily they/them pronouns.
INTERESTS
animanga: naka no hito genome, skip to loafer, munou na nana, sk8 the infinity, noragami, kaoru hana wa rin to saku
video games: pokémon (b/w, s/m, sc/vi), disgaea (1–4), genshin impact, persona 5, five nights at freddy's, devil may cry (3–5), corpse party, satsuriku no tenshi, omori
everyone x nana hiiragi (jin tachibana, kyouya onodera, michiru inukai)
everyone x taiga aisaka (ryuuji takasu, ami kawashima, yuusaku kitamura, minori kushieda)
reki kyan x langa hasegawa
valvatorez x artina
fulgur ovid x millie parfait
ironmouse x bubi
yuuya kizami x yuka mochida
mayu suzumoto x sakutarou morishige
mitsumi iwakura x sousuke shima
harumi takeda x futaba igarashi
rintarou tsumugi x kaoruko waguri
DNI
please don't interact with me or my posts if...
...you're racist, sexist, classist, ableist, homophobic, transphobic, fatphobic, islamophobic, antisemitic, or otherwise bigoted in any way, shape, or form.
...you're a terf, swerf, radfem, "gender critical", exclusionist, transmedicalist, "nonbinary skeptic", etc.
...you're strictly against mogai, xenogenders, neopronouns, microlabels, "contradictory labels", or any other good-faith queer identities.
...you're anti-black lives matter, anti-immigration, pro-all/white/blue lives matter, pro-cop, pro-military, or pro-capitalism. (basically, if you're a bootlicker or you simp for billionaires, politicians, or law enforcement.)
...you're "pro-life" (pro-forced birth).
...you're a zionist.
...you're an antivaxxer.
...you think "reverse racism" (racism against white people) is a thing or is on par with the racism that poc face.
...you use slurs you can't reclaim or use autism as an insult, even in a joking manner.
...you demonize people with cluster b personality disorders.
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...you frequent 4chan, kiwifarms, or lolcow.
...you harass people over their kinks or taste in fictional characters/ships or compare drawings of such things to csem.
...you watch/like/support any of the following: pipkin pippa, tenma maemi, kirsche verstahl, fallenshadow, silvervale, veibae, nyatasha nyanners, uruha rushia / amemiya nazuna / mikeneko, zaion lanza / sayu sincronisity, lord aethelstan, hero hei, rev says desu, flipsie, kuri rinji, raziel warmonic, falseeyed, khyomaru, yandere dev, mamamax, blaire white, wilbur soot, dream, jschlatt, adam rosner, snuffbomb, or any other user or content creator that has a pattern of bigoted, harmful, and/or criminal behavior.
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...you participate in cringe culture.
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...you openly hate any of my f/os or special interests.
...you think ai "art" is real art or support crypto or nfts in any way.
kindreds, sicklings, guildies, south park fans, and ayu/shiki, ei/miko, zhong/chi, thom/ato, shu/ake, shu/mako, shu/sumi, sumi/taba, sai/ouma, sai/matsu, ten/miko, vox/to, and asahi x shouko shippers are on thin ice unless i follow first.
meme weekend 》 🍵 Do they prefer to ask out a partner or be asked?
Gus would prefer to be asked, because he gets a little shy about cutesy dating and romance stuff! But he will, if he's in a good mood or really feels strongly about it!
it’s self-love day every day! if you receive this in your inbox, list 5 things you love about yourself and send this to 5 of your favorite blogs! 💌(you don't have to actually, I just wanted to send some love)
Love you always, my Bestie!💕
Hey my Beautiful Sailor ❤️🌹
Thank you so much for sending this to me, it's so sweet of you 😘
I love you so much Bestie ❤️❤️❤️
*****
Thank you so so much for sending me this message too my lovely moots: Zen @luvjiro Klara @leviismybby Alice @wanderlustqueen-writes Nuri @nuri148 Lucy @lucysarah-c !! ❤️🌹
*****
It's been hard to find 5 things I love about myself, but:
1- my eyes & smile 😊
2- my cooking skills 👩🍳
3- my unwavering loyalty (but never fucking betray me, you've been warned 💀)
Woooooo! I am done for the day, how's you day been goin' Suga-oh I didn't realize that you were having company. Hello there, the name's Zet, it's a pleasure meeting you Mr.Valentine.
-Zet🍵
Zet! Zet! Hey! I got a friend!
Val this is my friend Zet! He’s fucking awesome and makes the best tea and beignets! You have to try them!
timidstrcngth asked: Send 🍵 and my muse will reveal one of their biggest regrets involving yours.
RELATIONSHIP BUILDING: ACCEPTING
II @timidstrcngth
Send 🍵 and my muse will reveal one of their biggest regrets involving yours:
“I should’ve done more,” he rasped. “Val, ye’ were my responsibility to look after. I-... I dunno’ wha’ I did or wha’ I said, but up to this day I still dunno’ why ye’ left. If I had done somethin’ to have upset ye’ just know tha’ from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. Maybe... Maybe I should’ve been listenin’ be’er.”