I really wish I had a proper working knowledge of your canon, because I would've loved to do something with the menagerie.
...though even in sticking with the canon I know, I still end up using the characters I've never written before. I hope it turned out okay!
ALSO: I finally have time to think about doing this, but now my means of access to the post office is temporarily gone, so I can't do this without hilarious delays, but! If you are okay with it not actually happening until...mid-January (sob), I WOULD LIKE TO BAKE FOR YOU. ♥ (Or instead of January, the other way we could do it is that you could just save it up for sometime when you're having a crummy week and need cookies and I could do it then?)
But anyway. ♥
-------
Winter tended to come late in Araphen, but when it did, it came with a vengeance, all snow and howling wind and branches rattling the windowpanes. After five years, Lucius still wasn't sure if he'd ever really get used to it, but even if the cold was no less biting from one winter to the next, experience was a good teacher, and he was becoming something of an old hand at the yearly preparations -- at least, he liked to think so.
The first couple of years had been the hardest; although Araphen had seemed welcoming enough of his intentions to give the territory a proper orphanage, material support had been less than forthcoming and the closest church of Saint Elimine had been facing dire financial straits of its own, and balancing the costs and making the decisions of whether to spend that last bit of gold on another blanket or a bit more firewood had left him nearly frantic. A polite, but very long, letter to the marquess had gotten him a bit more help at the last minute, but the experience had been altogether frustrating. He vowed to start making allowances for the season earlier in forthcoming years, seeking more donations in the summer, when the populace had more to give, and though things were always a bit tight, for the past three years he'd managed to successfully keep the orphanage in the black, and avoid most of the close calls that had plagued that first, dreadful winter.
But as he sat down with his records one late night in the sixth year, it occurred to him that perhaps that streak was an end.
It was nobody's fault, really. Certainly not the people of Araphen, for whom the year's harvests had been less than impressive, and yet they'd still managed to help him meet the goals he'd outlined for the year. Certainly not the marquess, either, who'd matched the contributions he'd made in the previous few years, which was all Lucius had ever requested of him. Nor could the fault be laid with the church, who had also been no less helpful than in years past --
-- and not, Lucius had decided, after some very careful consideration, himself. He was no seer or fortuneteller, and though the year's harvest had been nothing to brag about, there had been no clear signs that this year's winter would be any worse than the usual. He'd allocated things no less carefully than before. Tempting as it might be to take the blame on himself, there was nothing he feasibly could have done.
But to think that this was simply divine will was perhaps the worst alternative. What comfort was there to find in that? An earthly scapegoat was infinitely more appealing.
He sighed, pushing the carefully written lists and records to the side, and rubbed his hands together. Cutting back on firewood had been his first attempt to conserve. It wasn't as though he needed much heat to sit alone and brood for a bit. But he couldn't cut back too much on the room where the children slept, so there was only so much to be saved in firewood. And there was only so much to be saved in food costs; he couldn't expect such young children to understand the concept of rationing.
Is it warmer where you are, I wonder, Lord Raymond?
He sighed again. Dwelling on Lord Raymond's whereabouts would do little to help with his current predicament.
part the first!
...though even in sticking with the canon I know, I still end up using the characters I've never written before. I hope it turned out okay!
ALSO: I finally have time to think about doing this, but now my means of access to the post office is temporarily gone, so I can't do this without hilarious delays, but! If you are okay with it not actually happening until...mid-January (sob), I WOULD LIKE TO BAKE FOR YOU. ♥ (Or instead of January, the other way we could do it is that you could just save it up for sometime when you're having a crummy week and need cookies and I could do it then?)
But anyway. ♥
-------
Winter tended to come late in Araphen, but when it did, it came with a vengeance, all snow and howling wind and branches rattling the windowpanes. After five years, Lucius still wasn't sure if he'd ever really get used to it, but even if the cold was no less biting from one winter to the next, experience was a good teacher, and he was becoming something of an old hand at the yearly preparations -- at least, he liked to think so.
The first couple of years had been the hardest; although Araphen had seemed welcoming enough of his intentions to give the territory a proper orphanage, material support had been less than forthcoming and the closest church of Saint Elimine had been facing dire financial straits of its own, and balancing the costs and making the decisions of whether to spend that last bit of gold on another blanket or a bit more firewood had left him nearly frantic. A polite, but very long, letter to the marquess had gotten him a bit more help at the last minute, but the experience had been altogether frustrating. He vowed to start making allowances for the season earlier in forthcoming years, seeking more donations in the summer, when the populace had more to give, and though things were always a bit tight, for the past three years he'd managed to successfully keep the orphanage in the black, and avoid most of the close calls that had plagued that first, dreadful winter.
But as he sat down with his records one late night in the sixth year, it occurred to him that perhaps that streak was an end.
It was nobody's fault, really. Certainly not the people of Araphen, for whom the year's harvests had been less than impressive, and yet they'd still managed to help him meet the goals he'd outlined for the year. Certainly not the marquess, either, who'd matched the contributions he'd made in the previous few years, which was all Lucius had ever requested of him. Nor could the fault be laid with the church, who had also been no less helpful than in years past --
-- and not, Lucius had decided, after some very careful consideration, himself. He was no seer or fortuneteller, and though the year's harvest had been nothing to brag about, there had been no clear signs that this year's winter would be any worse than the usual. He'd allocated things no less carefully than before. Tempting as it might be to take the blame on himself, there was nothing he feasibly could have done.
But to think that this was simply divine will was perhaps the worst alternative. What comfort was there to find in that? An earthly scapegoat was infinitely more appealing.
He sighed, pushing the carefully written lists and records to the side, and rubbed his hands together. Cutting back on firewood had been his first attempt to conserve. It wasn't as though he needed much heat to sit alone and brood for a bit. But he couldn't cut back too much on the room where the children slept, so there was only so much to be saved in firewood. And there was only so much to be saved in food costs; he couldn't expect such young children to understand the concept of rationing.
Is it warmer where you are, I wonder, Lord Raymond?
He sighed again. Dwelling on Lord Raymond's whereabouts would do little to help with his current predicament.