Young Writers Society

@Stringbean, let's keep this simple-- in our first posts, we'll name the important people we'll use and try to update the lists, ok?

Onkle Peter
The Dragonhearts
People (That about sums it up XD)

Oma/ Mutter Natalia (not sure which they'll call her yet)
Oma Catalina
Onkle Max
Opa Will
Other Whitestars
Shetzle?

"Bianca!" Onkle Peter called, hobbling towards the staircase. "Did you move my cookie money again?"

The old woman came down the steps, scowling at her brother, her gray hair pinned up high in a thick bun. "It's probably where you always keep it and you just forgot, you old fool."

"I'm not old!" Peter said, crossing his arms. "You're old!"

"You're both old," Frederic muttered as he dusted the coat rack. Then, louder-- "It's behind the cookie jar!"

"There, you see? Right where you left it." Bianca shook her head as she walked past Peter towards the long dining room, a stack of antique, embroidered napkins in her hand. "I don't see why you spend so much money on that stuff anyway," she said loudly as she started placing them along the places at the table. "They'll rot your insides. It's a wonder you ever lived so long."

"I was only..." He paused. "Mutter, what year was I born again? I'm old, and I wasn't there to see my birthday!"

[Making me get out my family tree XD]

"That was in '49, dear." Catalina was sitting in her old rocking chair beside the fireplace, peering down her nose at her crochet as she worked the yarn into a pink throw blanket. "And your sister in '53."

"Thank you, Mutter!" He looked back at Bianca. "I was only 118!"

"'Only' he says!" Bianca glanced up at the ceiling and shook her head before placing another napkin. "Good Lord. And touched as ever, clearly."

"Oh now stop it, both of you," their mother scolded. "Can't you give us a minute's peace in the house? You bicker like school children..." She trailed off as she squinted at her stitches and started counting.

"It's ironic how the only peace we ever got from their bickering was during the wars," Wilhelm (Natalia's son) sighed. "Well, that's what Frederic said anyways."

Oma Catalina nodded. "Yes, it is... But sometimes life is like that. A bigger problem can I make us forget our little ones." She shrugged at herself and looked up from her crocheting. "Alice, when will supper be ready?"

[Shall we say any of the Dragonhearts are coming over to eat? Or do you have anything in mind on where to take this?]

(Sure, and no idea XDD)

It was Dream who replied. "Almost done, Oma! I messed up the strudel again!"

[Alright XD]

"No harm done!"

"What's happened?" A thin, middle-aged woman with sharp dark eyes and deep, chestnut colored hair showing threads of gray that spilled far down her back to her waist in waves and flips came into the room from a hall near the stairs. She had an almost austere posture and a marked way of carrying herself and placing each step with a purpose.

"Nothing Ma-ma," Catalina answered. "Only Dream needs more practice with the strudel."

Grandmother Natalia Funar looked towards the kitchen as she smoothed out a pleat in her flowing skirt with a quick flick. "Strudel. We never used to make strudel when I was alive, or I'd show her."

"Its not my fault my parents couldn't cook normal food!" Dream said, shrugging. "They were just overly fond of-- mice and sherry."