Re: Webster's Vinyl: Harper L & Ceil L
[It could be said that Harper looked quite changed. It could be said Harper appeared not changed at all. Both statements would, factually, be true. The dark haired girl that had left Repose the month earlier looked precisely the same as when she'd gone, and yet there was something in her gaze that was hardly the same at all. Haunted would nearly be the right word, but wiser would, perhaps, be a better fit, failing its utter inappropriateness on such young features. It rather didn't help at all that Harper rarely smiled truly. But, as in all things, there were exceptions, and for Harper that exception was Ceil.
Her oddly-lightly eyes crinkled at their corners, and she hugged Ceil back with a strength that spoke words that Harper had never quite found easy upon her tongue. She was not made for speaking of feelings, of longing and loss and happiness. She was the girl stood in the corner, arms crossed while others mourned loudly or celebrated gaily. But her sister received the tightest of hugs, given with arms that were noticeably warmer than they'd been when last Harper had stepped foot into the music store that was her legacy.
She pulled back slightly, allowing Ceil to look her over at her leisure, and she let her bag fall heavy to the floor.] It was something forgot. I didn't remember aunt and uncle's faces until I saw them, and then they were precisely the same as what I hadn't remembered. [That had bothered her, and it was a rather simple thing to be troubled by, given the events that had followed. She shook it off, and then she cupped warm hands to Ceil's cheeks.] Tell me all I've missed, babygirl. Is our cur of a guest still abovestairs?