Family Tree
December 30th, 2011
[A Photo] ...
Proof positive the man has a soul and actually smiles on occasion. Audr and two of our three girls. I believe the two pictured are Astrid and Brenna.
December 28th, 2011
[Reunions] ... never go well
Brighid had begun watching the news.
At first, it was because of Bruce, because she'd wanted to know what he was doing, what he was involved in. After he'd died - a business trip, they'd said - she'd continued watching because it'd become habit.
She hadn't left Gotham right away, though she could never truly leave forever. She was, after all, Mrs. Bruce Wayne. There were still appearances to keep up and foundations to run. Dick had taken over the duties of Batman, had followed in Bruce's steps, so the city was still safe. She still lived at Wayne Manor... most of the year.
It was while she was in Maine, however, that she heard about the drug cartels in Mexico. About the fights. About the violence. It wasn't until Brenna came to her and explained, however, that she understood.
Three years. Three very long years since she'd seen or heard from Audr. She'd purposely kept away from him, purposely avoided anything having to do with him or any of his businesses, but she'd had a feeling that he'd gone back to what he'd known best. There hadn't been any news out of Norway, so she'd had a feeling that anything legit that he'd been involved in when they'd first met was long gone. When Brenna came and told her that he'd been injured and was at Hawken's, she made the decision that their extended hiatus was over.
Brenna wasn't an idiot. She knew that her parents didn't speak - hell, she'd avoided seeing Audr once he'd arrived, herself. After all, the girls were Hawken's babies. His protegees. His. They all knew where they'd come from, and why the man didn't want anything to do with them, but they all appreciated who'd done their raising, too. They appreciated it very much. In fact, much to Brenna's chagrin, one of them appreciated it too much.
That wasn't the issue; that her mother wanted to see Audr was. Quietly, and with no small amount of trepidation, she agreed. "It'll be ugly, Mother."
"Don't worry," Brighid, assured her, wrapping her arms around her middle daughter. "We've done this song and dance before. I just want to see for myself that he's going to be okay."
And that's what she told herself as she knocked on his door.
At first, it was because of Bruce, because she'd wanted to know what he was doing, what he was involved in. After he'd died - a business trip, they'd said - she'd continued watching because it'd become habit.
She hadn't left Gotham right away, though she could never truly leave forever. She was, after all, Mrs. Bruce Wayne. There were still appearances to keep up and foundations to run. Dick had taken over the duties of Batman, had followed in Bruce's steps, so the city was still safe. She still lived at Wayne Manor... most of the year.
It was while she was in Maine, however, that she heard about the drug cartels in Mexico. About the fights. About the violence. It wasn't until Brenna came to her and explained, however, that she understood.
Three years. Three very long years since she'd seen or heard from Audr. She'd purposely kept away from him, purposely avoided anything having to do with him or any of his businesses, but she'd had a feeling that he'd gone back to what he'd known best. There hadn't been any news out of Norway, so she'd had a feeling that anything legit that he'd been involved in when they'd first met was long gone. When Brenna came and told her that he'd been injured and was at Hawken's, she made the decision that their extended hiatus was over.
Brenna wasn't an idiot. She knew that her parents didn't speak - hell, she'd avoided seeing Audr once he'd arrived, herself. After all, the girls were Hawken's babies. His protegees. His. They all knew where they'd come from, and why the man didn't want anything to do with them, but they all appreciated who'd done their raising, too. They appreciated it very much. In fact, much to Brenna's chagrin, one of them appreciated it too much.
That wasn't the issue; that her mother wanted to see Audr was. Quietly, and with no small amount of trepidation, she agreed. "It'll be ugly, Mother."
"Don't worry," Brighid, assured her, wrapping her arms around her middle daughter. "We've done this song and dance before. I just want to see for myself that he's going to be okay."
And that's what she told herself as she knocked on his door.
December 7th, 2009
Bombshells
Once she'd put all three of them down for their afternoon nap, Brighid was ready for a nap herself. Unfortunately, it was a choice between a walk and precious time by herself or that tiny nap. She opted for the walk.
The weather in Maine in December was bitingly cold and she was wearing her heaviest coat for her walk. The wind blew and she drank it all in: the wind, the water, the small flurries of snow. They threatened the heavier snowfall to come and Brighid didn't want to stay out long just in case.
Once back in the house, she made sure the fire was going and she curled up on the couch with a book to relax until the girls woke up.
The weather in Maine in December was bitingly cold and she was wearing her heaviest coat for her walk. The wind blew and she drank it all in: the wind, the water, the small flurries of snow. They threatened the heavier snowfall to come and Brighid didn't want to stay out long just in case.
Once back in the house, she made sure the fire was going and she curled up on the couch with a book to relax until the girls woke up.
October 16th, 2008
Change
It's the sounds that've always stayed with me. The sound of the waves, the sounds of the birds, even the sounds of other people. Everything in or on or even near the ocean is always in motion. It never stays the same no matter how close you live.
I've always lived near the ocean. My mother raised me in a large house at the very edge of Cutler, Maine. It's occasionally very warm and bright and sunny and often dark and rainy. I like the storms. They make me feel at home with the water that I love walking near. I've never not taken a walk on the beach. I can't imagine being kept from it that way. Being stifled.
I know where the love of water comes from. My father. I can't remember meeting him, but I know he's out there. Sometimes when I walk along the beach, I have an eerie feeling. I'm not sure if someone is watching me or if I'm being followed, but it's an impression I have. Sometimes I'm uneasy. Sometimes I'm comforted.
I don't know very much about my father. I know quite a bit about my mother, though not everything. What she chooses to share in her cryptic sentences I've learned to decipher over the years. She's had thousands of years to perfect the cryptic tones and words, you see. My mother is Fate. She's the youngest Fate, the Spinner. The Creator. The one that spins the thread of each person's life and turns it over to my aunt Lachesis to be woven through the Great Loom. Their eldest sister, Atropos? She's the Destroyer. She's the one that ends lives and she is my favorite person in the whole world.
She's still cryptic, just like the others, but she's also the most forthcoming, in a way. Without her, I'd never know of my mother's fondness for tulips. Or her romantic nature. She doesn't talk much about him. My aunt Kay says it's not to be discussed, but I think she's still bitter. It's not until my mother reaches aunt Attie's golden age that she comes to terms, or so aunt Attie says. They're different, yes, but the same. Still, Attie says, she loved him.
He's immortal, too. Like us, but not. He has his own secrets, things he must hide. Things she can't or won't tell me. There are reasons he couldn't love her. Poseidon was one. Also, from what I've heard, my father was a very stoic man. Quiet. I think I get it from him. All of it, really. The need to be near the sea, the need to be alone, the want for privacy.
If I'm so private, if I don't like to share, why now? Why all of this, you ask? Like the ocean is never still, neither am I. I must be in motion and must change, like all things. And things are changing now.
__________
525
I've always lived near the ocean. My mother raised me in a large house at the very edge of Cutler, Maine. It's occasionally very warm and bright and sunny and often dark and rainy. I like the storms. They make me feel at home with the water that I love walking near. I've never not taken a walk on the beach. I can't imagine being kept from it that way. Being stifled.
I know where the love of water comes from. My father. I can't remember meeting him, but I know he's out there. Sometimes when I walk along the beach, I have an eerie feeling. I'm not sure if someone is watching me or if I'm being followed, but it's an impression I have. Sometimes I'm uneasy. Sometimes I'm comforted.
I don't know very much about my father. I know quite a bit about my mother, though not everything. What she chooses to share in her cryptic sentences I've learned to decipher over the years. She's had thousands of years to perfect the cryptic tones and words, you see. My mother is Fate. She's the youngest Fate, the Spinner. The Creator. The one that spins the thread of each person's life and turns it over to my aunt Lachesis to be woven through the Great Loom. Their eldest sister, Atropos? She's the Destroyer. She's the one that ends lives and she is my favorite person in the whole world.
She's still cryptic, just like the others, but she's also the most forthcoming, in a way. Without her, I'd never know of my mother's fondness for tulips. Or her romantic nature. She doesn't talk much about him. My aunt Kay says it's not to be discussed, but I think she's still bitter. It's not until my mother reaches aunt Attie's golden age that she comes to terms, or so aunt Attie says. They're different, yes, but the same. Still, Attie says, she loved him.
He's immortal, too. Like us, but not. He has his own secrets, things he must hide. Things she can't or won't tell me. There are reasons he couldn't love her. Poseidon was one. Also, from what I've heard, my father was a very stoic man. Quiet. I think I get it from him. All of it, really. The need to be near the sea, the need to be alone, the want for privacy.
If I'm so private, if I don't like to share, why now? Why all of this, you ask? Like the ocean is never still, neither am I. I must be in motion and must change, like all things. And things are changing now.
__________
525
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