Belecthorian Heaven in a Nutshell

Unfortunately, it was not a Dragonheart that stepped through the door first, but-- Carolina. And she looked grouchier than Bianca.

Onkle Peter wisely backed away. "Dream burned the strudel!" He tapped his mother on the shoulder. "Let's go hide."

(*poke* When you're ready. )

(Ahh, sorry XD)

Oma Catalina gave him an absently scolding glance and wave of her hand before she went back to watching Carolina come in. "Something wrong, dear?" she asked in her creaky grandmother voice.

"I'm dead just as my daughter is apparently alive. What's to like?" Carolina answered grouchily.

The old woman let out a soft "Ah" of understanding and looked down at the knotty head of her cane, cupped in both palms.

(I need a minute. I just learned Ruth Bader Ginsburg is dead, and just-- I need a minute.)

(Okay <3
PM me if you want in a bit.)

"And her lover killed me!" she continued angrily.

"He killed me, too," Jean-Noel said quietly as he followed her in. "...Nana?"

"No."

"Grammy?"

"No."

"Gran?"

"I'd rather die."

"Nini? Memere? Gigi? Lolly? G-ma? Grams? Mema? Big Momma?"

"Oo," Carolina said, "I like Big Momma. But Big Momma is--"

"--Norma Jean," Alexia Dragonheart said as she came in, Nelle and Edwin just behind her. She hugged Frederic and waved to Oma. "Norma Jean is Big Momma, and her husband is Big Daddy."

Onkle Max leaned against the side of the fireplace and pulled his pipe out of his coat pocket. He lit it and tossed his match into the hearth, placing the stem quietly between his teeth as he watched Carolina, Jean-Noel, and Alexia with a look of amusement.

And then Bianca opened her trap in front of Carolina, which is almost certainly a bad idea.
"I don't see what all the fuss is about-- just pick something." Bianca was nearby at the end of the dining room table, setting out the silverware. "If people would just stick to the way everyone's always done it, it'd be simple. He's your nephew, he calls you Tante. You're a man, they call you Onkle." She glanced up long enough to gesture with a fist of forks at Jean-Noel. "He's your grandson, he calls you Oma! What is so difficult about that?"

"They're Belecthorians," Angelica answered. "Oma is far too simple and easy for them."

"Is not!" Carolina said. "I just want a name that does make me sound old."

"Compared to whom?" feeble Gerontius asked as he came in. "I dare say, Carolina, you are one of the youngest people here. You certainly look it, at least."

He turned and looked at Jean-Noel.

"Straighten your tie, young man."

"Yes, Uncail."