#braedyn

It had been some time since Braedyn had sat reading on the Fancy Cakes stoop. Once, you might have found her there nearly every evening. But then the city bought the property by force and she had moved her home elsewhere.

So tonight she stayed. Dressed down after closing and quietly perched on the top step. She had tea and a few butter cookies for fortitude, and she had adventures between the covers of a new novel. It was an infrequent bliss and a selfish one. Braedyn reveled in it.

A chapter finished, she looked up and nibbled her cookie between sips of tea from a teacup enchanted to keep it just the perfect temperature. Her gaze swept through the Royal Exchange, lingering on the Bench that had hardly changed over the years, though now it seemed lonelier, and over the fountain where Shiverhorn had played his ukulele and demanded chocolate-rose-and-rhubarb cupcakes. Over the square Lucas had accepted her application to be his assistant. Over the marble steps where Fortune had punched Ahmandil. Up to the wall that had to be rebuilt after the bombs. Under the tree where Fortune had told her he’d caught her. And finally back to the steps, where memories of dozens--no, hundreds--of faces came and went past her unfocused eyes.

The smile was soft with nostalgia. Those ghosts of memories played out before her, thin and translucent, silent to everyone but her.

New faces rushed through the old guard and shattered her memories like so much smoke. But that was all right. She could see the cycle starting up again.

"If I am the moon, Tinnaire is the sun.

She enters a room, she enters a space, and radiance and warmth emanate from her. She emits an invisible force and through it, pulls everyone around her to her. Everyone loves her and it is not difficult to see why. It may be the world's duty to do such a thing when in that presence.

She is a profoundly unique woman with her ideals and her approaches to life and the world as a whole, perhaps not always capable of seeing herself, or seeing a version that others do not. Perhaps she does not realise how powerful she truly is. It is often those who do not notice their own charisma, their own pull, their own various traits about themselves that cause those to inevitably strengthen.

What an overwhelmingly, achingly beautiful woman."

—-—-—

"I wish I knew her better. More. To know if my deductions hold weight, or if they are merely projections of what and how I think her to be.

The first time I saw Khaeris, I was drawn immediately to her appearance. She stands out in a sea of us where it can be rather easy to feel insignificant. Although I still would not say I know her well, when I think of her, I think of the overflowing kindness that escapes her.

Mayhaps there is a... liberty to her. A free spirit. She certainly seems the type to embody just such a thing."

—-—-—

"I owe Braedyn quite a lot.

In her own way as some others have, and she could not know this, she helped save me. She is the catalyst, the very centre for how things have come to be as they are. For how I have come to be as I am.

She is terribly sweet. Although perhaps that ought to be expected when she has been running a bakery. Was she always like that, I wonder? Did time and circumstance help assist her evolution into the woman she is today? She is always thinking about other people. Observant. It seems she knows when we all are not feeling our best. I feel she hosts this quiet strength about herself.

I wonder if she feels anything remotely similar to the fulfilment she provides to the rest of us."

—-—-—

"Miss Baker is...

Pleasant. Too pleasant. Uncomfortably pleasant. And... that's not the most terrible thing."

Braedyn ran. These days she usually ran alone. Silvermoon was quiet at all times of day, but always in these early pre-dawn hours. The stones started to warm and the breeze wound down t he street with her. The only noise was her breath and her feet on the tiles of the road. The Tournament had called many out of the city this past week. It had been a needed distraction as everyone felt the pressure of something unfolding again. Something. She kept jogging until she rounded into the Royal Exchange. The early morning rituals were performed: a quick shower, readying for the bakery's day, and opening the shop. All the while she found her thoughts returning to the tournament. She knew there were fighting tournaments. Jousts and melee, at the very least. Somedays she wondered what others would think if they saw her in her fighting leathers with her knives. Or perhaps with hands wrapped or boxing gloves. Her hand curled where it held the knife. She put it down. Perhaps another time.

@daily-writing-challenge

The kitchen smelled divine. The twins had been practicing their cooking for the upcoming festivities; they wanted to celebrate the family by participating. Braedyn had enjoyed sitting back and sipping her tea in the late afternoon, offering advice and watching the two of them buzz about the small city-house kitchen while she read her novel. Fortune had started to walk in with his afternoon coffee and newspaper, and had promptly turned on his heel and walked back out. He knew how to handle his wife in the kitchen. But their teenage daughters? No. That was a battlefield that particular Boss wouldn’t patrol.

At least until the food was done.

Braedyn watched her husband leave and her lips quirked up. Honestly the girls were doing very well. The usual sniping of twins at this age, but also the laughter and bit of mischief natural as they first dabbed each other with flour fingerprints. Then full on smacked each other across the rumps with the white-coated powder. Ahhhh, youth. Braedyn fell into her novel again.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Braedyn lifted her head, mildly alarmed, but she was too late to prepare herself for what was to come.

CRACK! Thwack! Thwomp! A dozen other similar noises splintered through the small space in a shocking cacophony. Dust scattered with the shattering, glittering in the low afternoon light and the echoes bounced off the walls.

At least it wasn’t glass. Braedyn exhaled a sigh and looked up to the ceiling. She should have realized the peanut brittle had been cooled enough.

The girls were laughing again. Isolde had a piece of the candy already in her mouth, ever the sweet tooth. Adalia was sifting through the pieces, pocketing one into her skirts. They sorted through the larger chunks of candy and occasionally continued to smash them with little confection hammers. Mostly just for fun, Braedyn thought.

They were leaving for finishing school after the winter solstice. Fortune wasn’t happy about it, but the girls were excited for the next step in the journey to adulthood. Fortune was never happy about them growing up and getting older.

The house was going to be so quiet.

Khaeris leaned her chin on her hand and thought about it, "This is kind of cheating, and I'll say something about her, too, but ... One of the most attractive things for me, about her, is actually how Andaeros looks around her. I hadn't seen that side of him in so long." There was a little shame in her eyes and color in her cheeks as she glanced away. Her eyes then came smiling back and brought her dimples deeply into her cheeks, "I like how tenacious she seems. Tenacity is a Tenant of the Light after all, and I heard she's getting lessons in that. She's gonna be a force, I think." ~~ Tinnaire brought her glass of lemonade up to sip before she answered. "She has a true sense of being earnest, I think. She means things in a way other people only pretend to do. Sincerity and earnestness. Yes. I find that very attractive about her. I like that she's willing to bare parts of herself--you can tell it's not easy for her, but she is willing and needs to do it, I think."

"Notes"

Ruecien was asleep when I got here, enjoying  the last rays of sunlight. Did I only dream he was a poet?

Junarra flirts, in her way, with everyone. That ‘Trade Princess’ charm. She’s an asset, whether she knows it or not. I’m grateful she is here, for the quiet ones.

Kerrana keeps her expressions close, and I see a glimpse of myself a few years down the road.

Khidell is passionate about his pleasures. From chocolate cake to Hearthstone to thistle. He is not a frequent guest, but he reminds me to pay attention to the moment.

Onyx had been a surprise; but wasn’t she always? I am never sure how to take her bombastic declarations. The coffee is a casualty of her capricious nature. Would she really dump it in  someone’s lap? … Or was it just a comment meant to shock us into thinking about her? Vixannya slides through the evening like smoke curling from a candle. Her confidence is alluring.

Kaisina was finding her place. Sharing was a double edged sword for her and she danced, trying to find the balance between opening her heart and pressing against boundaries. The dragon racer, Hylcind, had a rough and tumble look about her; a life well-lived, and a heart that remembered it, apparently. Ruecien had felt badly for not knowing, I think, but she seemed to take it as a gift that someone else remembered her late husband. Gracious in a way most might envy.

Sana had become sweeter through the years, though still so guarded. Her efforts were steady. I feel she’s doing better for herself, but I am also sure I would never know if I was wrong.

Andaeros always teases, but it’s never too sharp and does not cut the way others do. He brings  smiles and warmth with him frequently. He rounds many of our edges, I think.

@daily-writing-challenge

Braedyn walked out onto the streets and quietly looked up. The pastel purple skies above Dalaran were lovely and it wasn’t unusual for her to pause to admire them. What was unusual was the twinge in her chest. This would be one of the last times she could count herself  regularly here. The Fancy Cakes weekly open house was moving back to Silvermoon City for the foreseeable future, starting next month. The time in Dalaran had been nice, and she’d met a few people she now counted dear, and several that were pleasant acquaintances, but  she couldn’t justify it any longer. Hauling things too and from Dalaran had always been a hassle. Paying for the spaces she’d used there were very expensive. It just felt like it was time to go home.

Besides, they could always come back. Change was the only constant, honestly.

She looked back down and started moving, a paper folio with copies of contracts and documentations was absently held to her chest. Braedyn passed the Legerdemain and smelled the coffee from inside. She passed the wine and  cheese shop. And the barber. People loitered under the lamp posts, and adventurers paced over the avenues with purpose. Dalaran was a nice place to visit.

But Silvermoon was home.

A Love Story

Braedyn Velstand had never been the altruistic sort. She never gave painful amounts to a charity--only enough to seem to feel the sting, when necessary for appearances. She didn’t spend her time organizing fundraisers or donation drives. She left that to Fortune’s Family. There were plenty of spouses that loved that sort of work, but it had never been, nor ever would be, her.

But neither was Braedyn known as notorious. She was a little aloof maybe, a little reserved, surely. Even a little rigid at times. But mostly she wasn’t regarded at all, outside the Velstand Family. She was left to bake and read and watch. Her favorite things.

But her deeds… her deeds had caused quite a stir, once. Some, if they ever knew, might call the villain who skimmed from so many 'notorious'. But first they would have to notice. Just a penny here, a coin there. The villain had, so many years ago, funded themself from the froth of the waves of gold in the columns of the accounts of those who were unlikely to ever notice it missing. Just a little from the left overs. No one had ever chased her about it, and she had opened her bakery on the scraps of other people’s fortunes.

But Fortune had found her out. The only one to have ever noted the tiny losses and found their way to her. He was clever and careful when she had thought herself untouchable. But you should know your enemies, and she had not fully realized that he was THE accountant.