Resemblences

"She looks more and more like her father every day," Charity says, voice soft and tinged with some complex emotions, watching the little purple cambion girl swing a hefty stick around the flower blanketed garden, giggling gleefully, her twintailed black braids bouncing wildly behind her as she chases imaginary foes that only her little yellow eyes can see. Every now and then the pitter patter of her little cloven hooves clatters its way onto the cobblestone before being buried again in grassy plumes.

Rosalie hums from from the rim of her teacup and sets it gently on its saucer. She too watches the child prancing through her garden for a moment, then turns her gaze back to the large, imposing cambion across from her—skin deep red and etched in old scars, not a hoof in sight, messy brown hair that looks like it was cut with garden shears half tied into a ponytail, and gentle silver eyes, ever watchful. "She looks more and more like you too, you know."

"Really now?" Charity laughs with a face awash with pure perplexion, "Have your eyes begun to fail you in your old age Rose, or are you just saying that because of the horns?"

Rosalie rolls her eyes with a smile, "No of course not teacup—I mean she has your smile."

Charity blinks, and looks back into the garden, "Oh."

Rosalie turns to watch too, resting her chin in a gloved hand, "And you know, I'd say a fair bit of Warlon in her too, she's got that mischievous twinkle of his in her eye."

"Oh that.. I think she gets that from his daughter actually, Elwyn really admires her."

"Ah I see," Rosalie smiles, "It's good that they get along."

"Yes, though his daughter is decidedly more rambunctious than I imagine he's ever been in his life!" Charity laughs.

"Oh now I don't know about that," Rosalie muses with a wry smile, "I reckon there's a thousand embarrassing stories about that old dragon's younger days that he keeps quite secret."

"Ha! Maybe," Charity concurs, setting her pale eyes back on the other woman.

She studies her quietly for a moment, watching Rosalie's soft smile as Elwyn pretends to stalk something around the bushes, before those dark eyes meet hers and—seeing her face—frown. "...Yes my dear?"

"Mm," is the response Rosalie gets back, nodding to herself slightly, to Rosalie's increased confusion. "If it's mannerisms you mean, then she looks a lot like you, too," Charity answers.

Rosalie's eyebrows shoot upwards and her head lifts out of her hand ever so slightly, "Me?"

"Yes, whenever she finds some new fascinating mystery to solve, her eyebrows scrunch up just so, exactly like yours just did—and then after a moment a little excited smile creeps onto her face."

A light pink dusting spreads across Rosalie's pale cheeks and she quickly averts her gaze back into the garden and clears her throat, "Well. She certainly has a lot of people caring for her."

When Charity says nothing to this, Rosalie frowns and looks back across the table.

A dark expression has clouded the handsome woman's face.

"Charity?"

"I think I'll gut him if he ever shows his face," she mutters.

Rosalie relaxes and exhales softly, "Well be sure to do a thorough job, we don't want to add him to her list of influences."

"Gods no, Edel's bad enough," Charity says, frown evaporating as a conspirational grin takes its place.

"Oh aye?" Rosalie smiles back, taking another sip of her tea.

"Oh aye indeed, she's a troublemaker—you might be onto something with Warlon's sordid past with a daughter like that!"