"Then I would be pleased to show it to you. This way," she says, offering Harrow her arm.
The library is just as 1970s themed as we last saw it, wood paneling wrapping around the bookshelves and avocado green sofas. There are a few more stacks of books on the floor, and beside one, a small, dark-headed boy sits, his back leaning against a sofa, engrossed in a book with dragons flying in lazy loops on the cover. He looks up when Ingress and Harrow enter the room.
"Auntie Ingress!" He puts the book aside and scrambles over to her, hugging her tightly around the middle. He looks about seven years old and has opalescent eyes like his mother (and Auntie) and a serious set to those eyes in a pale face that comes straight from his father.
"Hey, Portico. How is my best nephew?"
"I'm your only nephew," he says, looking up at her, laughing at their running joke. His eyes glance over to Harrow. Taking notice of the stranger, he stands up straight, prepared to greet her as a future Lord of the House of Arch, as he's been taught.
"Harrow, this is my nephew, Portico. He's Tom and Door's son." Ingress says, smiling at her grave little nephew. Portico can sometimes be too serious for his own good. "Portico, this is my friend, Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus."
If he's daunted by the name, he doesn't show it. He gives Harrow a bow. "Welcome to the House of Arch."
no subject
The library is just as 1970s themed as we last saw it, wood paneling wrapping around the bookshelves and avocado green sofas. There are a few more stacks of books on the floor, and beside one, a small, dark-headed boy sits, his back leaning against a sofa, engrossed in a book with dragons flying in lazy loops on the cover. He looks up when Ingress and Harrow enter the room.
"Auntie Ingress!" He puts the book aside and scrambles over to her, hugging her tightly around the middle. He looks about seven years old and has opalescent eyes like his mother (and Auntie) and a serious set to those eyes in a pale face that comes straight from his father.
"Hey, Portico. How is my best nephew?"
"I'm your only nephew," he says, looking up at her, laughing at their running joke. His eyes glance over to Harrow. Taking notice of the stranger, he stands up straight, prepared to greet her as a future Lord of the House of Arch, as he's been taught.
"Harrow, this is my nephew, Portico. He's Tom and Door's son." Ingress says, smiling at her grave little nephew. Portico can sometimes be too serious for his own good. "Portico, this is my friend, Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus."
If he's daunted by the name, he doesn't show it. He gives Harrow a bow. "Welcome to the House of Arch."