[right][sub][color=gray]Nicholas interacting with Rhoslyn [@AXIS][/color][/sub][/right]
[center][h3][color=gray][color=006A4E]Mrs. Northam[/color] and [color=A1A2F1]Little Nicholas[/color][/color][/h3]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/wa37Crq.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/wp6dG8T.png[/img][/center]
[hr][hr][indent][color=gray]Pale, porcelain skin looked ghastly under the dreary dawn sky, as a scrawny, yet elegant hand gently brushed the hedge of the Manor's maze. Josephine's black [url=https://www.victoriantradingco.com/images/vtc/products/30629.jpg]robe[/url] vibrantly stood out in the land of the neglected green. The dry winds of the night that held faint whispers dissipated as the songbirds hid the spirits that roamed and wondered. Without the former Lady, the one who loved to tend, potter, and weed, the charm that was the Northam's gardens became creeping mildew and curling leaves. No paid gardener could love the grounds like her mother-in-law did. Perhaps, Josephine thought, she could take up gardening and make the house resemble that of an old oil painting she made for the late Lady, years ago. That is, if she is deserving. 

Of course, plants were not easily controlled like her paintings were. They had a mind of their own and like a child, they could display one's failures and weaknesses. If she doesn't feed them, they could die. If she doesn't give them light, they could die. If she doesn't wish them well and have faith they will grow, optimism being the best fertilizer, they could die. Many things factored in nurturing a garden, and as of recently, no one was worthy enough to take care of her like the late Lady once did. 

Let the Manor mourn. 

Unfortunately, the Widow hadn't slept well. When does she ever sleep well? Many nights she is cursed with [i]imagery[/i], never failing to keep her awake. She could feel the spiders of the house weaving their tales that only the dead could read. She imagined the walls adorned with blood, dripping, flowing, streaming to the floor... flooding the house, giving it a cleanse. She was waiting. The Manor was waiting. This place, such a fascinating spectacle, wanted the residents to think of her, as any angel would. And think, they did. 

When nightfall came around, it felt like Jo could feel the atmosphere, that was her home, speak to her. The raven beaut didn't want to lose touch, even if the Manor didn't [i]belong[/i] to her. The Manor, and all that surrounded her, was [i]magical[/i] and it only took a willing heart to be given a glimpse of her beauty. The garden was part of her humble brilliance and like a phantom, Josephine explored it. Passing the jewel of the grounds, a large, tempting pear tree, one of the few plants that thrived, the young woman found herself knelt in front of a rose bush. Her gaze was fogged and part of her didn't know how she ended up here. 

Steadily, she reached for a rose, purposely wrapping that dainty hand of her's around the thorns of the stem. The sharp thorns pierced her fair skin. Her blood made a path down her hand and met the Earth with a sweet kiss. There was only minor flinching, and with a quick snip with the scissors in her other hand, Jo found herself holding a blooming rose. She dropped the scissors. 

[center][h3][b][color=crimson]~[/color][/b][/h3][/center]   

[i]Tap-tap-tap-tap![/i] 

The tiniest of heeled steps could be heard rushing down the West hall, second floor. Dashing, daring Nicholas Northam had been knocking on his mommy's door but there was no answer, so he had to go on a great search to find her. [color=A1A2F1][i]MOMMY DISAPPEARED[/i][/color]. Frightened of the large stairs, he turned his body around and crawled down. Slowly but surely, he found himself in the grand lobby. Rushing, speeding, as fast as... an exotic cheetah his grandpa would hunt, he found himself in the sun room, where she would paint. 

She wasn't there... grrr. 

His eyes scanned the room once more in frustration and found himself drawn to her muted painting on the easel. The paint that unpleasantly ran. Each stroke had a smudging quality and reflected the chaos inside his mother. Any adult eye would find her new phase of abstract composition as mad or as curious  Not Nicholas! With a grin, the young boy greeted the art with a clap, [color=A1A2F1][b]"Good morning, grammy and gramps!"[/b][/color] After staring at the art, as if it were talking to him, he nodded and puffed his blonde bangs out of his face, [color=A1A2F1][b]"I'll be back, I promise!"[/b][/color] 

[i]Tap-tap-tap-tap![/i] 

Nicholas knew a boy that yelled was a boy without manners, so he'd have to find help [i]quietly[/i]. His stomach did have the growlies, but he was going to ignore it until he found his dearest mother. From a distance, he could see one of the scullery maids, the one that wears red! Catching up to her, he grabbed the ends of her skirt, [color=A1A2F1][b]"Misssssss Rosieeeeee. Do you know where my mommy is?"[/b][/color]  
[center][h3][b][color=crimson]~[/color][/b][/h3][/center]  
Humming to herself, a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KkTb4AMW8w]song[/url] she likes to sing at night, Josephine glided toward the family crypt to give her husband a rose. She enjoyed this silent peace to herself, regardless if those that watched from a distance questioned her sanity. It was truly unladylike to have not changed out of her nightwear, but her priorities were to serve her beloved, even after death. She [b]needed[/b] to give him a gift. 

Would he like the rose she picked out for him today?[/color][/indent]