In this house on a hill

The dead are living still

their intention is to kill and they will, they will

She had come to see Jarred. Because she liked Jarred. More than she had ever liked Sorrel. Which was odd for her, she could admit that. But sitting here, in her brother’s home, she could at least see the benefits of this place. Blackwood Estate was bigger. Of course. But she didn’t think that it held near the significance for Mother and for Avalon that this place did for Jarred. Saffron didn’t much care for traditions, and she wasn’t going to claim to be any sort of expert on what her brother did and did not like. But she could see why he liked this place.

There was importance here for him, and she could respect that. It was partially why she had bothered to wear a dress. Why she had tried to at least play the part that she had been born into. Was she good at being Lady Rookwood? No, she was not. Did she truly hate when people called her that? Yes. She did. She had been using Blackwood for years now. She fit in better with the Blackwoods than she did with the family that she had been born into. But she knew whose blood ran in her veins.

Father’s. Jarred’s. She didn’t have to like it for it to be true. She could make her own choices. She could follow Mother down a different path. But she could also respect her brother’s decision to uphold what Father had taught him. She remembered Father. Probably better than Sorrel did. She had been nine when they had moved to the castle. Following Jarred. Sorrel had only been six. And she remembered the summers. The times when there would be this almost haunting figure of Father in their lives.

Girls were not important, and she knew that. She knew that she had been the first disappointment, and Sorrel had been the second. She could only imagine what would have happened if she would have been born first. Luckily for them all that had been Jarred. He had been old enough to learn from Father. The same way that she had always learned from Mother. Saffron knew what it meant to be a proper pureblood wife. She just had no intentions of being any such thing.

While her siblings could play the perfect purebloods, she was going to continue to be the Black Sheep of this family. And she was just fine with that. She was more than happy to be Mother’s favorite. She almost reveled in it. In being better than Sorrel in the eyes of the parent that they had left. Because her sister was only good at Herbology. And while that had been Mother’s specialty. It was also Saffron’s. Magical Naturalism was just one step further than Herbology. One step closer to being used for the darkness they were all so keen on in Essex. But she wasn’t in Essex right now. She was in Suffolk. And she was sitting across from her brother.

“Okay, tell me.” She set her tea down on the saucer lightly and she looked across the table at him. “Tell me what I’ve missed. I feel like I haven’t been properly caught up on your life in an age. And I must know all of the details.” Saffron may not care for her sister, but she did care for her brother, and she was genuinely interested in what he was doing. He had never seemed as heavy handed for her as the image of Father that she had built up in her mind. And she didn’t know if that was Mother’s doing. Or if she really remembered him being as disinterested in her as he always seemed in her head.

Jarred had never seemed that way. Her brother had always seemed more approachable. And she had always strived to be that for him as well. Someone that he could talk to. Because she had no ground to stand on when it came to making judgements of any kind. She was the perfect sounding board. He would get nothing but honesty from her. Even if he didn’t always ask for it. She was still his little sister. She was still always going to be a little bit annoying. That was just part of the job description. And she intended to find out what was going on in his life.

Jarred Linden Rookwood • 727 • saffron's outfit

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

HOUSE ON A HILL

the children are doing fine

I think about them all the time

It was Saturday-- which for some would equate to a day off. But Jarred Rookwood did not really take days off. There was always something that drew on his time. He had been to the vaults at Gringotts that morning, drawing out volumes from the midcentury Rookwoods. The matter of his sister's betrothal had been heavy on his mind with the wedding tomorrow. He needed to consult the writings of his ancestors to glean guidance on how to make a proper match for Sorrel. The very thought of her marrying set him on edge. He was too possessive and protective of his youngest sister. She had chosen to follow him: to be their father's daughter instead of taking the path their mother had diverged down-- the one that Saffron had descended, as well. He worried for his mother and sister, but their fates and lives were their own. He did not carry the same level of responsibility towards them. Or so it felt. Saffron had thrown off the Rookwood name, practically choosing to disown herself. Truly in the family now, it was only himself and Sorrel. They were the true Rookwoods. They were who had to carry on the familial traditions. 

Which meant he had a responsibility to find a suitable husband for his sister. He felt ill prepared for the task. Of course, he understood the legal workings of marriage arrangements. He was an advocate, after all. He was trained and well versed in the laws of the land, particularly those related to civil arrangements. So, it was not in respect to those details where he felt as if he was not well suited to the task. It was his devotion to Sorrel and his esteem for the woman that made the task so difficult. She deserved a man that Jarred doubted the very existence of.

But surely the Rookwood Lords who had come before him had faced similar struggles. It was a delicate matter setting up a marriage between a loved one and another family. He would seek their guidance in the written words they had left for him. He would read the journals, read the Bible, and pray that God show him the match for his sister. That was all that could be done. It was not on Jarred alone to make this decision. He had the guidance from the men of the Rookwood family to rely upon. 

Despite the difference in lifestyle and choices that divided him and his other sister, Jarred believed himself blessed with a good relationship with both Saffron and Sorrel. While he rarely spoke to his mother, he sought to cultivate and tend to the relationships he shared with his sisters. He knew he was not a father to Saffron, but he felt him responsible to be a dependable man in her life all the same. He might have no authority over her based on her choices, but he still felt a sense of duty to her. He would never turn her away. He would always act in her best interest. He would always seek to grow their connection. Part of him hoped that one day she might return to the traditions of their bloodlines, but Jarred recognized this naivety of such hopes. Saffron had made her choices and they had taken her to the Devil's school. Her life served the Lord of Darkness, while his was dedicated to the Lord of Light. They could coexist, though, and still have love for one another. His heart would never grow cold or hard towards one of his sisters. Never.

When Saffron arrived at the Rookwood familial home, Jarred put away his reading. He did not spare a thought for the case files waiting in his office. He gave Saffron his attention. It was a surprise and a very pleasant one that she had chosen to journey to Suffolk. He did not make many trips to Essex. It did not feel right to be even on the grounds at the Blackwood Estate. There was a darkness there that unnerved him. He could not imagine how Saffron and his mother lived in such a place. Darkness felt oppressive there. It was very disturbing. But as with many things, he kept his opinions on the lavish estate to himself. There was no reason to comment on how it screamed new wealth. There was little tasteful about the place. But he was not living there. Sorrel was not living there. He was not his business or problem. And not a thought to dwell on when sharing tea with Saffron within Coldham Hall.

His sister inquired after him and he smiled. It was most kind of her to care to stay apprised of his life. And there was, in fact, a matter that he was keen to discuss. "It has been too long. I do wish you would come to visit more. You are missed. I am sure that Sorrel shares the sentiment. We would be  delighted if you would join us for dinner more often." Jarred was, in fact, not certain at all that their younger sister held the same opinion, but Sorrel would only show kindness and grace within their home to any guest, be it Saffron or otherwise. 

"I have little in the way of interesting news," Jarred downplayed the current state of affairs. "I am in talks with the Dean at Lufkin regarding teaching civil law in the fall. It seems a worthwhile endeavour. I am just unsure I have the time to allocate to give the students the attention they deserve." Jarred did nothing only halfway. He made no commitments he could not keep. Such slacking went against his ethics. If he taught at Lufkin, he would always be prepared. He would make himself available to his students. The man would go above and beyond to make sure those in his class learned. It would matter to him.

He thought the career path would be less interesting to his sister than the matter of who he might take for a wife. They had spoken in the past about the arrangement Rosalind Nott was advocating for him. Saffron had taken great pleasure in joking with him about the age of their cousin. Rhea had not even been of age when their aunt first proposed the marriage. It was clear that there were reasons for that-- or at least one in particular. The girl was soiled and eager to spread her legs. She would make a fine mistress, but was simply not wife material. The halfblood had  seen to that. "I do not believe I will be accepting our aunt's request for a marriage arrangement with Cousin Rhea. I have doubts that the witch would align with the values I seek in a wife. There is someone else, though, that I have interest in." Jarred was not being arrogant or degrading towards the young woman. Many were loose with their bodies. He was no virgin himself, but there were standards he had for who could become The Lady Rookwood... and simply put, his cousin did not meet those. There were few that could or would, but he would wait for such a witch. He had hopes that Constance Mountbatten could be such a woman. She was royalty-- by that she understood the virtues of duty and propriety. He was sure that she would have kept her body sacred. She was a princess, after all. 

@ saffron  • 1239 • outfit

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0