#rostines

The newlyweds were still honeymooning and it was Cassilda who’d uncharacteristically suggested Family Dinner.  When her mother asked - for the fifteenth time - whether she was bringing “anyone special” over, their oldest daughter had stunned them both by saying that yes, yes she was.  She admitted that she’d been seeing someone for a few months now and wanted the rest of the family to meet them.

The doorchime tinkled airily and Vespa nearly dropped the centerpiece she was rearranging.  “They’re here!”

“One assumes.”  Montgomeri made no move to rise from the chair in front of the fireplace, his positioning was calculated.  One foot was propped on the edge of the table, the table was covered in guns and gun-cleaning paraphernalia and he had a hunting rifle in hand.  THIS was the first impression he intended to make - he had no intention of greeting this boy with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

Vespa puttered over to the door and opened it, smiling broadly. “Cassilda!”  Air kisses were exchanged and Vespa moved aside to admit their eldest daughter.  True to form, she was wearing something that must have been at the height of fashion these days: wide and impractical bell sleeves, an almost-modest V-Neck that didn’t make her father see red and he was pleased to see that her shoes were actually quite sensible.

He was somewhat confused when a Draken followed her into the house.

“Come on, now,” Montgomeri said with a laugh as he got to his feet, rifle held casually in one hand.  “If we’re bringing the help in for dinner, Vespa, I should tell Xocoyol she can come in and not worry about frightening the boy.  Speaking of which, where is he, Cassie?”  Vespa, too, was still peering out the front door for any sign of Cassilda’s date.

Cassilda squared her shoulders and looked at her father.  “Right here,” she said, keeping her voice surprisingly level.  She reached over and linked arms with the Draken who towered beside her.

It was only now that Montgomeri bothered to give it- him - a second glance.  Not nearly as imposing as other Draken he’d encountered - and he seemed surprisingly well-groomed.  He was wearing, Monti realized suddenly, a button-up shirt and a tie that matched the color of Cassilda’s dress.  The image would have made him laugh if his pulse wasn’t roaring in his ears.  

“I am Ashmaw of Ironclan,” the Draken said, “And it is an honor to meet you both.”  He offered a formal bow to Montgomeri - perfectly executed - and the hunter realized that the boy was holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand.  These, he held out towards Vespa.

She fainted.