Thread: An open window spells invitation (Demure+Lanolyt)

She had been dreaming an odd dream. One that had come to her many times over the years. About a time when she was a young girl, visiting this very house during the long, languid summers. There was one day of summer where she had thrown an old, worn rope over the branch of the gigantic, gnarled, yet beautiful oak in the back half of the property. She was a gangly and thin whip of a girl back then, and found that it was quite easy to angle her way up the bark of the ancient tree. Once she climbed some distance up, she found a branch that seemed well worn, it was comfortable and she settled herself there. She was treated with an amazing view of the estate and the surrounding forests. It was strange, she felt as if someone was with her in that tree, but as she looked around, she could see no one, and she had chalked it up to being silly and suspicious. Atop the branch she had found a small hole in the bark, and many strange and wondrous objects. One of them called to her it seemed, a beautiful and intricate ivory hair comb, studded with ruby, fire agate and labradorite. She had showed it to her Grandmother, who had told her that it probably belonged to an elf. Her Grandmother had been a great woman, gentle, loving and mischievous. She could remember the way she smelled of breads and spices, and how her hands closed easily around the charcoal as she drew such wonderfully intricate drawings on thick pads of art paper. Sometimes she thought it was perhaps her Grandmothers love for the fairy tale creatures that made her decide to become an fantasy novelist. She remembered the stories her Grandma had told her as a girl, and she cherished those times. They were times of wonderment and innocence... She wished she could believe those stories today. Her eyes shot open as soon as the thick volume hit the floor, the sound echoing in the empty living room. She sat up groggily and looked around in surprise. H-Hello? she asked, sliding her feet over the edge of the couch and placing them lightly against the floor. She shivered as the cold wood hit her bare feet, and thought to herself that it might be a good idea to start a fire. She scanned the room, and found herself completely alone, and shook her head. Being out in the wilderness does something to a girl she noted with dry amusement. She quickly located the cause of noise, and walked towards it, bending at the waist to retrieve it off the floor. It was a thickly bound sketch book. Her Grandmothers from the looks of it. It had a worn, tan leather cover, simply titled with the name Jessie Lynn inscribed in it. She flipped it open gently, and allowed her eyes to roam the contents. It was filled with sketches of animals, plants and mystical creatures. Her Grandmother had such talent, and looking at the drawings made something in Jesselyn's heart stir. She remembered the many stories of elves and fairies that her Grandmother had told her, and how she used to set out milk and eggs for the creatures as gifts. Smiling to herself, she shook her head and walked to her portable food cooler. Inside she pulled out a gallon of milk, and four eggs. Walking into the kitchen, she found two bowls and filled one with milk, and the other with the eggs. Opening the window, she set them on the outside sill, and sighed. She stuck her head out into the night air, and stared up at the sky for a few seconds before closing the window all but a few inches. Yawning and stretching her arms above her head, her shirt rode up to expose her navel and full, rounded hips. The fabric of her top strained against her generously proportioned breasts, as she reached up to muss up her dark, choppy locks. Walking up stairs with the book in hand, she walked down the dark hallway and opened a door on the left. It was the room she used as a child, and it seemed as thought it was still as she had left it. Trudging over to the bed, she slid beneath the covers and set the sketch book on the bedside table. Looking around the room she noted all the dolls and pictures of elves and fairies. It made her smile. Her eyes slid closed, long black eyelashes fanning against her high cheek bones. Her full, red lips settled into a sleeping pout, before her soft breathing filled the room. It seemed like she had not slept long at all when she was rused to wakefulness by the suns rays hitting her eyelids. She groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over her head. She was half tempted to fall asleep again, but she begrudgingly knew that she had to wake up and start working on her latest novel. She had a deadline coming up for her final draft, and she was finding that she was less inspired than usual. She headed to the bathroom, where she pulled her brush out and fixed her sleep mused hair. Slashing her face with warm water, she looked into the mirror, before pulling out her tooth brush and getting to her morning routines. Once that was done, she headed down stairs and into the kitchen. She quickly unloaded her cooler into the refrigerator, and dug around for some breakfast ingredients. Soon she was cooking up an omelet. The smell of cooked food and fresh herbs filled the room. Sitting down, she ate in silence, mind mulling over her dream.