#wtswspawnweek

Helena Highsmith, where would you be? Your twin sister whom you haven't seen in fifteen years is looking for you.

It was a familiar routine, and yet so rare, when Emily was granted the blessing of being able to tuck her children in at night. It was a procedure that had changed very little since the birth of her son although the children had changed and grown so very much. Never once had she taken the opportunity for granted, as she had always made a point to remember that even though she wished to be with her children for all eternity, that would not be the case. After all, her own mother had been taken from her much too soon. As was not surprising when one lived the life of a Nephilim. It had been a horrifying thought, to worry whether she would leave her children in a similar way. Perhaps not torn apart by Lycanthropes, but leaving her children as young and with scars that would never heal. The fear had been there when Nate was five years old, then Ella, then Rachael. Fear of repeating the pattern. But now she had since long passed her mothers last age, and been granted that much more time with her family. Her own mother lived through her and her children; just as she lived for them.

As always, Emily had begun with the youngest, giving Rachael a kiss on her forehead, then Ella, after reading both the girls a story of their choice. And even though he kept pointing out that he was too old for that now, she had kissed Nate goodnight as well. He would always be her baby boy And she simply could not help it. Even after all these years she did not feel as if she had showed him how much she really, truly loved him. Then she had asked him of his training — a substitute for the usual story as she feared he would have shooed her out of his room had she gone as far as to read him something — before gently closing the door behind her and heading to the bedroom. As she had so many times for the past fourteen years, but fewer than she desired. She loved being the Consul, knowing what a great honour it was and doing her very best to fulfill her duties, but she loved her children more and they were the ones suffering from her absence. She owed them more than she was giving.

As Emily walked into the candlelit room with the familiar massive wooden dresser and bed dressed in golden satin, lace curtains covering the windows but giving her a view of the starlit night outside even so, she saw him standing there — a familiar figure, defined muscles visible through his white dress shirt, leaning casually against the desk as he greeted her with a dashing, warm smile. She could swear that he had not changed at all since they had met. Although, he had. Not only was his hair streaked with gray, but his expression was so mature. He was not the boy in the woods, or the one who had carried her through the Institute when she was wounded all those years ago; and yet, he was. He was still her Jon. If only by his smile and the look in his eyes. Whereas Emily… The gray streaks, the mature face, they all suited him terribly, made him more handsome, even though she had doubted that to be possible. Unlike her. Her reflection was someone else looking back at her and filling her chest with discomfort. Even though the signs were that much fewer on her, they were ten times magnified when her eyes met the mirror. Emily was painfully aware of the fact that her body was aging that much faster than her soul.

Matthew Granville Fairchild- Son of Charlotte and Henry Branwell

Matt is the second son of Charlotte and Henry.  He was born in December 1886, 8 years after Charles and was a joy to both of his parents. The two were surprised to find out about his arrival but Charlotte easily found time to welcome another son into her life, and Henry was as crazy as ever inventing toys for him. Charles was happy to finally have someone to play with, although like any siblings he would sometimes tease him. Henry would often be oblivious in his own world, but Charlotte would quickly and swiftly put a stop to it.

Matthew loves both of his parents but finds he is closer to Charlotte. When he was a young child, he enjoyed following her around as she worked, pretending that he was her right hand man. He would often sit beside her with a quill and ink writing down his thoughts as she wrote important letters.

For the young fourteen-year-old Helena Wate, today couldn’t have gotten anymore confusing. First of all, there was this boy who told her that is was the 19th century, not the 21st. That same boy also vaguely said that she was a Mudane, which she didn’t understand. Of course, she was human. What else would she be? Second, there was this woman, dressed weirdly who looked exactly like her mom, Hana but claimed that she wasn’t. Lastly, that woman asked the brunette if she was the woman’s twin sister’s daughter. As far as Helena was aware, her mom didn’t have any sisters. However, neither she nor Zach knew very much about their parent’s past and how they met. Perhaps, it was a time to find out.

She had followed that boy to this place called the Institute, which looked like an old church from the outside, but a residence on the inside. Walking around the place, looking for anyone she knew, which was just her mom, dad and Zach.

After what could have been merely ten minutes or even hours, Helena saw her dad, who stood out from the crowd of people by the different clothing he was wearing from all the others. Running towards him, Helena called out, “Dad!” and put her arms around him when she reached him. “Dad…Where are we? Why is everything so different…a-and…does mom have a twin sister? Where is she, anyway? And Zach?” Helena questioned, letting out all these questions that had been stuck in her mind.

With Elodie on Genevieve's back-- her short arms around her older sister's neck for support-- and Anna holding her hand, the three Highsmith ladies walked from the drawing room of the London Institute to the gardens. Having just arrived in London, their Mama and Papa were still catching up with the Herondales and Will, Genevieve assumed, was in the library. The London Institute was just as Genevieve remembered it, and she could not wait to see more of the city with her family. It had been a year since the Highsmiths were in London and the city being a second home to Genevieve, she had missed it dearly.