Thread: A Discussion of Theology (SnowGlassRoses)

Small, light kisses, she placed warmly upon the curve of his cheek as her fingers gently twirled within his long, thick hair. Her Papas hair was the finest of any man, rivaled only by her Uncle DArtagnan, who spent more time on his dark tresses than he would ever admit aloudHer Uncle Porthos had locks far too long for him to keep nicely, and poor Uncle Athos was thinning recently, due to stress over Raoul serving at the front with his regimentPapas hair however, was always well keptIt smelled lightly of incense from the Cathedral, of the harvest airAnd as her small nose nuzzled tenderly against his face, she breathed in the light musk of his sweat from the days rideNo finer cologne could ever be conjured. Yvette could never understand the other young maidens in town, complaining of their attractions smelling of sweat after a days work. The scent of her Papa exuberated strengthIt was absolutely intoxicating Thick black lashes fluttered lightly, as his words and his touches lulled her out of her slight haze. A soft shade of natural blush, far more radiant than the hue brought on by small pinches, came to her face as he questioned her greeting. Oh Papa, of course not She smiled, brightly, giggling happily to the point she nearly was bouncing upon his knee in anticipation of his kisses. I was simply She pursed her lips playfully, making a dramatic expression of thought with a quirked brow and devious glimmer in her eyes, before resting her forehead against his, Commencing the start of our new Autumn greeting She happily declared, in a tone only laced with the innocence of a daughter, but secured within a purr far more enticing. As she moved her small figure closer to her Papas body, she submitted to his palm pressing against her waist, guiding her closer whilst his other hand lingered against her chin. She gazed, captivated by the light in his eyes, before relinquishing her lips quite willingly to his kisses. In the mornings, whomever woke first would come to the bed of the other, waking them most pleasantly with kisses of a similar manner. To awaken with love inspired the Holy Spirit, and soothed the heart most tenderly. At night, the candles could not be extinguished before several peaceful, loving kisses were exchanged, despite the events of the day. One could never sleep with a heavy heart, and kissing provided a most excellent remedy against any lingering ache...Though, Yvette in all honesty could not recall a day spent with ill feeling towards her Papa. In fact, she could not recall a time she ever considered herself mad . Upset, of course, for she was a blossoming youth with a vigorous curiosity coursing through her veins, and at times she became swept up within a wave of emotion but even so, feelings of anything but passion and admiration towards her Papa, were only but small thorns which occasionally wedged into her heart easily removed by the softness of her Papas lips, and at times, the sharpness of his open palm Their foreheads were pressed lightly against one anothers throughout their greeting. Yvettes hands wandering down the curve of his neck, to rest upon his shoulders, gripping them fondly, bringing herself closer to a more intimate proximityAs he spoke however, her fingers seemed to loosen their hold. Her eyes, once closed to further enjoy the bliss of their embrace, now opened and cast shyly aside towards the carpet..Such kind, affectionate praise, pierced like needles against her heart. Withdrawing herself somewhat away from his toying with her curls, an act which typically she would desire to go on for hours..All young maidens adored having their hair played with after all, and Yvette would often lay her head upon her Papas lap while he combed through hersAt that moment however, those needle prickings of his blessings poured out all the guilt trapped within her heart. With a slight pout upon her lips now, the life in her eyes dimming somewhat, she bowed her head against his shoulder, pressing her face shyly to hide against the curve of his neck. Yes Papa Her confession began so easily...In the face of others, Yvette could stubbornly stand her ground in any conversation or argument and come out the victor. She had asked questions that silenced philosophers, tongue tied the greatest of linguists, and baffled many scholars at court with a wit and intellect not typically attributed to a young lady of such beauty. With great refinement, Yvette was able to use words to her advantageBut before her Papa, she regressed. Her voice softened, her mannerisms became slightly timid. Her words failed her now, and not even her truth of, But the spice rack was near emptyI could not prepare a proper Sunday supper without my spices, could hold its weight against her Papas justice. When rules were bent, it was never done with intention to misbehave. They were often encouraged by curiosity, or in the pursuit of a good deed, such as retrieving spices for a better supper, but regardless...A rule was a rule. One occasion she could recall, she had been foolishly lippy with her Papa in response to one of said rules he had quickly smited that act of rebellion with use of his belt instead of his hand Tears were already threatening to arise, clouding her vision slightly before he had even said a word. Such was his power over his little girl, his influence, his importanceBy the time I thought you would arrive home Papa, the markets would have been closed! In desperation, Yvette began kissing her Papas neck, her arms moving to drape around his shoulders as she cuddled her body against his. Lips seeking out that soft spot which caused his body to tremble whenever her lips caressed it...Perhaps it would help to restrain his mood, or else she would have to find a way to use onions in that nights dish to mask any lingering tears, should her uncles choose to arrive earlier than expected