Thread: A Discussion of Theology (SnowGlassRoses)

Periodic, youthful disobedience aside, Yvette was a good girl. She was perhaps the best daughter a man could ask, devoted to her family and to her savior, embracing life around her, listening fervently to any teachings he had to share. Aramis made sure to tell her this often, that she was the most wonderful gift he had ever received. She was adopted, but adopted in fact alone, feeling to his heart as if she were his in all other aspects that a person might. Another thing Yvette had proven good at was keeping her chores done regularly, a truth which would come to haunt her now as the freshly cleaned windows allowed her father to see her strolling the dirt road toward their home, very obviously coming from somewhere. Further inspection as she came closer to the cottage, robin's voice heralding her arrival, allowed Aramis to see somewhat the items she held as she rounded the side of the house for the kitchen entrance. The retired musketeer took slow breaths to himself as his fifteen year old daughter disappeared around the bend of the house. She'd be stepping inside in a moment. How should he handle this? Not a minute ago he was brimming with excitement, eager to surprise her. Then worry. Then relief, mixed with disappointment. She was a good girl. Yvette was a wonderful girl, just too headstrong at times. If she was guilty she would acknowledge it to her father like a scolded dog and accept her punishment, usually without too much of an issue. Usually. He turned to remove himself from the hallway. Not only headstrong, Yvette was clever too, and observant. She would catch sight of his coat. Aramis walked calmly to the adjoining room to take seat in his large, comfortable high backed dark mahogany chair, a gift from his beloved friend Athos when the man turned to a number of crafts following his retirement. Most of the room matched in palette, mahogany walls, mahogany floors, the ceiling a rich blue to match an elaborately decorated rug covering a majority of the floor. Several chairs and a couch rounded the room out as a mixture of a lounge for guests and Aramis' den, his original den given up years ago when Yvette was taken in and in need of a bedroom. Aramis took his preferred seat, the chair designed wide and strong, armless, a delicate design carved along its spindles. He stared forward at the fireplace as he heard Yvette enter through the kitchen door, a fireplace that would not be used for a few hours still when light was rare and loved ones were near. For now he simply stared as the ashes of yesterday's logs as he listened and thought. Perhaps she had gone somewhere local, one of a number of places she was allowed to on her own. Such was possible. Perhaps she had gone into the city and did indeed secure an escort, a neighbor or a friend on the way, and upon leaving the city and back to the country Yvette and her companion parted ways. This was also possible. She had a recurring habit of wandering places she oughtn't on her own, however, which often led her father to worry the worst. She was an honest girl, though. Sure lip aside. Curious spirit aside. Yvette was always honest with him, and upon seeing his coat she would know to look for him. And upon seeing him sitting in this chair she would know, know well by now that her father would hold her accountable for her actions, and hopefully she would know well enough to lower parts of her dress while raising others. She was a smart girl. Hopefully she would know to lay across her father's lap with her young, pale backside bared, accepting the punishment without needing to be told. Not that it would save her from an extra strike, but there was a degree of respect in it, in acknowledging her father's wishes, even if only as an afterthought. She would be allowed certain things. She would be allowed to whimper and even cry, as such was expected when having one's bottom thoroughly smacked. She would also be expected to grip her rosary around her fingers during the punishment whilst openly praying for forgiveness. She would not, however, be allowed to argue and take lip with her father, and if she resisted she knew full well Aramis would simply come to her. Catch her hair as she ran away, down the hallway. Pin her to the dirt floor of the barn if she got that far. Raising such a strong girl was hard sometimes, as accepting one's punishment was not always desired. It would be up to her how things played out, as the initial disobedience had been a choice of hers as well. There was always the possibility, of course, that Aramis was mistaken and she was innocent of any wrongdoings, but the priest would have to wait to see how she acted and what she said before he could know. Until then he would sit there, sit in his chair and assume, waiting patiently for the guilty party to come clean.