#celestine walker

“I, uh, the thing is…”.

“Speak up, son. No one’s going to judge you”.

“I have been invited to a sleepover with some kids of my class and I overheard the usual hosts that they will play ‘Spin The Bottle’ and then giggled as they wondered who they will kiss” He flushed pink as Hayley opened her eyes wide before letting go a shocked laugh.

“That’s curious. Luke’s girls will attend to another one of their class, too”.

“Percy told me that these parties end up with two people dating. That’s where he met his first girlfriend”.

Hayley caught her son’s hand and caressed it “Oh, my boy, you grow so fast! You have half of the school at your feet!”.

Elliott flushed as his father shook his hair with an amused smile on his face “Thank you for trusting us with this, my boy. I know how embarrassing this can be”.

“I mean, you’re my Mum and Dad, we’re a family”. 

The Cursed Heiress, Chapter 6 

“You are a witch, my lady”.

She curled lightly two of her fingers as she quirked an eyebrow

“Are you going to report me for witchcraft?”.

“I would never do that!”.

She glared at him, holding her head high, remembering the lesson of Elias: never trust a mortal man who claims to know who you are and promises you to never betray you with no reason; those are the ones who then tell the mortal monarchs who they are and burn yet another sister alive.

“Tell me one reason why I shan’t get rid of you with a flock of my wrist”.

He looked at her, his gray eyes like a platinum storm in the high seas of her blue, a weather poem of battle against Zeus and Poseidon, colliding and creating a beautiful, groundbreaking verse of eternal war and never-ending chaos.

“Because I am one member of your world, Princess Joanna of Crochane, the grandest house of the Circle of Nefertiti. And if you need evidence, take a look at my sword and attires”.

She arched an eyebrow as with one metal spell, she called the sword to her and saw it better: made of fine golden silver, her own reflection on the sword and the script on it: I am Hysteria, from the same steel than Bowshadow and Torment, she who shall cut it all.

Joanna’s mind came to realization, as she lowered the man, who landed expertly on the ground, showing his ring

“You are a Nighthunter. One that belongs to one of the oldest Nighthunter families all over the world” She said, breathless.

The Viscountess, Chapter 1 

“Oh! You’re… married” Luke commented, his expression sour.

“I’m a widow, actually. My Alaric died when Anne was 2. Car accident, said the police” She commented, a familiar pain on her chest. Everyone went silent before Annabelle placed her hand on hers and said

“I’m sorry for your loss, honey. If you wanna talk about it…”.

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you…”.

“You don’t” Ernest said, surprising the whole table “We won’t judge you, Nicole. If you wish to speak about it, I assure you that we will listen”.

The Sinclaire Legacy, Chapter 2 

“My little boy!” She kissed him on both cheeks as he giggled and his now messy hair (courtesy of Ernest's genes) flipped on one side and jumped on the bed happy. He mumbled as he repeated the word ‘Mama’ and never got his tiny hands off her. Celestine peeked at Ernest watching lovingly his son and her bonding. 

“Who's my precious boy? Who?” She beamed at the boy. “You! You are!” She said as she showered him in kisses and the baby shrieked. 

“Alright, Vincent, dinner awaits. You don't want to leave Percival alone! Go rescue him from the monster of the dust!” He beamed at the little boy as he ran to the parlor where the boys usually ate. 

“I could use some assistance dressing for dinner and then, and I'm sure our little one will appreciate it, would love a bath” Celestine purred to her husband. 

She patted his shoulder and dazed to her own bedchambers. Mr. Sinclaire couldn’t quite believe it! His Celestine, who slept better when in his company as she confessed him in their wedding night, wanted now to sleep alone. No kiss, no usual smile, no embracing… His face fell as his mind raced. What harm could have he done so she treated him so coldly? She wouldn’t even look at him, she seemed so… bothered.

While he prepared himself for bed, he gazed at Celestine’s shawl, a very beautiful one. It was a light green one, matching her eyes and with some blue patterns and her initials in it. He smelled it, inhaling her essence of roses and new books. He lied on the bed, on Celestine’s side to be concrete, smelling her most natural essence. Suddenly, he missed her smile, her tales of the day and some song whispered on his ear while he had his hands on her waist, looking at her adoringly.

He sighed. Since they got married, they never parted from their bedchambers. Sometimes, he’d take her in that bed and forget about everything, basking himself in his wife, sometimes they’d read together about Shakespeare or maybe he’d debate with her about the fuss in the Parliament and she’d offer him her point of view. There were even nights that she’d sit on the small bench on the window and narrate him a funny or embarrassing tale of hers growing up in Grovershire and he’d listen. There were these few times that, somehow, Mr. Richards’s face and voice would disturb Celestine and he’d sing her a lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was younger and afraid of the dark and she’d sleep in his arms, her petite frame fitting perfectly in his strong arms. He’d cradle her and observe her sleeping features, her mouth slightly open, her breath calm and a bit of a drool falling off the corner of her mouth, a small knowledge that she was having a pleasant rest.

With those memories, Mr. Sinclaire finally fell asleep, clutching Celestine’s shawl in his arms.

The next morning, Mr. Sinclaire entered silently the room, trying to avoid all costs to make the door creak loudly. He observed how his wife was showing her back, sleeping towards the window and her nightgown lifted until her knees. The small hair on her legs started to show, growing larger and thicker up to her thighs.

That got him to remember when one night of those where while undressing and giggling, Mrs. Sinclaire of all sudden yelped and covered her legs, flushing violently. During minutes, he tried to persuade her to allow him to see what was the obstacle of them to be completely undressed in front of each other. Celestine was quite stubborn at first, assuming that he’d be disgusted by the view, but he insisted that he could never feel disgusted by her. At last, and shaking her head, she showed him how her rather hairy legs showed, growing larger until her Venus honeypot, where a good amount of hair showed, a small, black jungle inside her. He told her it was no trouble, that hair was completely natural in any human being’s body and there was nothing disgusting or unnatural. She was at first sceptical, but then he caressed the legs, kissed it, showing that it was no trouble for him. At last, she gave herself to him and everything went swimmingly after that night.

He sat in her bed and kissed her shoulder and cheek “Happy birthday, Mrs. Sinclaire…” He whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open and he smiled, leaning to kiss her but she placed her hand on his face, stopping him “Don’t” She shrugged her shoulders as he felt utterly broken.

“Celestine, if I have done something to you, anything, please—”.

“Just… get out. I want quiet today”.

But he wasn’t quite finished, his heart aching “Celestine, please, talk to me. There must be something I can do for you. If I have—”.

“Gee, stop! It’s not always about you men! You want to do something? Leave me be!” She snapped at him, her green eyes now lit with annoyance.

His heart sank as he nodded, feeling hurt and stupid. He turned to leave and walked slowly, with a bit of hope that she’d grab his arm and tell him she was sorry, but she didn’t. Before leaving, he noticed her dirty laundry. He was about to peek closer, but she glared at him “Well? Don’t you have things to do?”.

He sighed, a high pinch on his stomach, wondering what could he had possibly done so she’d be so irritated with his presence.

As he left, he thought that maybe Mrs. Daly would have the answers to him, since Mrs. Marlcaster would never tell the bothers of Celestine due to her loyalty. He found her in the gardens of Edgewater, laughing at something that the Dowager Countess said and they both got up and greeted him.

“Good morning, ladies. May I have a word with Mrs. Daly in private?” He asked.

“Sir, are you quite alright?” His grandmother-in-law asked.

He didn’t answer as she collected her skirts and left, leaving the tan woman and the gentleman alone. He asked for the permission to sit and she nodded.

“You look sad. What bothers you?”.

“I’m not the one who has bothers, Mrs. Daly. It is Celestine who seems to have bothers”.

“How so?”.

“Since yesterday she hasn’t eaten or said much words and she seems… repulsed of my touch and haves this bad temper with me… Like any thing I do is a reason to loathe me”.

Mrs. Daly nodded before asking him a question “Do you see her pale and tired, or shining and anxious?”.

“Pale and tired, why?” He was suddenly curious about that certain question.

Mrs. Daly let a chuckle as he asked “May I know what is so amusing about this situation?”.

“My dear boy, your wife just finds herself in those days of the day! Since a young girl, she tends to be grumpy, only eats sweets and haves murderous tendencies. It is better if these days you leave her be and feed her what she demands, although a fruit a day is in the rules. It’ll pass in five days, you’ll see”.

“That… explains her behaviour two days ago. We were laughing at something and then her eyes went wide and excused herself and would barely touch me” He shook his head “I must know: does she usually have these pains? Is there anything than avoid being murdered that I can actually do?”.

“Let her know you’re here for her and leave her notes, even if she breaks them. Deep down, she’ll appreciate them and your concerns. Most husbands hide in their offices and avoid them all costs. Oh! And make sure your staff is having updates of her laundry. Our system can be rather merciless with us”.

He felt better and quite more confident at the words of the woman “Thank you for the helpful advices, Mrs. Daly. I will take them to heart and try to make this journey more bearable to her”.

When he came back to Ledford Park, her pug, Bucky, barked at him as he pouted. He cradled him in his arms “Let’s hope that she can bear your presence and can keep me updated of her state, little one”.

He updated the staff about her condition and how they’d proceed and what to expect as he grabbed some lemon tarts and muffins with orange jam inside it and placed it handsomely in a plate and a glass of water and went to her own room and knocked “Celestine, it’s me. I have some food for you. I’m coming in”.

He opened the door and she told him “Leave it in the desk and leave” She grunted.

He nodded and did as he was told while he slid a note behind the plate. He stayed a few seconds, allowing himself the liberty to eavesdrop about her reaction. She scoffed “God, what a helpless romantic” But he could hear a slight tune of amusement in it. With that, he went to work.

During that day, every three hours he left her some sweets and messages and sent an urgent letter that the intimate affair was cancelled due to the countess’s condition and that they’d discuss a new date.

It was late night when he heard the sliding of a note in his room and got up to see whose it belonged. C.W. Celestine. He opened it and there was two simple words: Thank You.

He smiled before returning to bed. During the next four days, it all worked like that, sliding notes and sweets and not talking to each other. There was one time she greeted him with a soft pat on his shoulder and a smile that didn’t quite reach her face.

The 7th of November, he was preparing himself for bed when he felt two familiar arms sliding on his waist and he smiled, feeling how she kissed his shoulder, chanting apologies for her bizarre behaviour.

He spun her around so she could face him and kissed her “Do not fret, my love. These days of the months are not easy and can be painful, but deep down, I understand that sometimes it’s better to let the things fly by”.

She got on her tiptoes to kiss him properly “Will you accept me back here?” Her eyes were now pleading, that hurt puppy face that he couldn’t say no to. He lifted her and carried her to bed before whispering to her ear

“No matter what, my love, I will always want you back”.

She smiled at him before she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to her, kissing each other and giggling, celebrating that those dreadful days were past behind. She was playing with the corners of his nightshirt before he separated himself from her and told her to wait.

“What is it, husband?”.

“Days ago was a special day, but since you wouldn’t open the door, I wanted you to have this” he handed her the present and she smiled wide, covering him in kisses, making him laugh.

“It’s incredible, thank you. I shall cherish it always”.

She put the diary in her nightstand before pushing him to the bed, purring “Now, where were we?”.