Although she was young, Charity doubted anyone could have missed the not-s0-subtle war of words happening between the two men (brothers, she corrected internally, despite struggling to picture them as such). She struggled to find anything to say to the curly-haired Darrow considering his obvious discomfort, and was very happy that her Uncle Evander seemed to be treating her nice enough. For now.
"Exploring," she echoed quietly, wondering what that entailed or what it was meant to cover up. She'd heard her father use that tone of voice to cover up less savory activities of family friends and relatives. He'd called her grandparents 'difficult' when she'd tried to ask about them, with that same strain in his voice. Hm.
She couldn't recall having ever stood so stiffly as she tried to find her words, and with a glance upwards she could tell that the solicitor was even flabbergasted by the brother's subtle bickering. Charity rarely got nervous, and hated the tightening of her chest and stiffening of her limbs, but she could not help wondering whether they would agree to take her in like expected or if she'd become an orphan overnight. This was normal, right? To be nervous?
"It's... a pleasure to meet you, Uncle, er, Darrow." She didn't remember his name, or if he'd even been named. She quickly looked back to Uncle Evander, hoping to avoid more awkwardness.
"Thank you. I knew he was going to die, though. I have come to terms with it already. Nobody survives very long with a dent in their head," she replied, blinking rapidly in some attempt to clear the images from her head. (In hindsight, she'd realize that no child should have ever seen a body in such a state, even if it was her father and he wanted to see her before he died.)
"Exploring," she echoed quietly, wondering what that entailed or what it was meant to cover up. She'd heard her father use that tone of voice to cover up less savory activities of family friends and relatives. He'd called her grandparents 'difficult' when she'd tried to ask about them, with that same strain in his voice. Hm.
She couldn't recall having ever stood so stiffly as she tried to find her words, and with a glance upwards she could tell that the solicitor was even flabbergasted by the brother's subtle bickering. Charity rarely got nervous, and hated the tightening of her chest and stiffening of her limbs, but she could not help wondering whether they would agree to take her in like expected or if she'd become an orphan overnight. This was normal, right? To be nervous?
"It's... a pleasure to meet you, Uncle, er, Darrow." She didn't remember his name, or if he'd even been named. She quickly looked back to Uncle Evander, hoping to avoid more awkwardness.
"Thank you. I knew he was going to die, though. I have come to terms with it already. Nobody survives very long with a dent in their head," she replied, blinking rapidly in some attempt to clear the images from her head. (In hindsight, she'd realize that no child should have ever seen a body in such a state, even if it was her father and he wanted to see her before he died.)
