Elijah Demetrius Thatcher sat by the fireplace of his house. Three children sat around his chair, waiting for a story before bed. The youngest, Laureen, climbed on her father’s lap.
“Da? Where did you and Momma meet?” She asked; her big blue eyes shone with interest behind her golden curls. Artemis scowled, brushing aside some unruly brown hair from his face.
“Sounds boring.” Said Valence. The boys had their battlefields out, and were strategizing attacks. He studied the battlefield with his sharp blue eyes.
“Your mother would be best for telling that tale, Lorie. Boys, it wasn’t in the least bit boring. That was what your teachers called the most exciting part of modern history.In fact,” he leaned over to them, almost like he was telling them a secret, “your mother wasn’t from here.” Elijah said smiling, his blond hair and bright blue eyes shone in the firelight.
His clothes were a steampunk and neo Victorian style, and he had an odd way of telling the most fantastic tales.
His wife, Genevieve, stood in the doorway of the living room. “What was that, Eli?” Her silvery eyes gave him a fake hard look.
Elijah looked over at her. “Evening, Ginny.”
“What were you saying to them, Eli?” She locked eyes with him.
“We’re telling them a story.”
Genevieve sat across from Elijah. “Which story?”
“How we met.”
“You heard me. Prove to the boys that not all first meetings are boring and dull.” Elijah smiled as he put his hat on the end-table.
“Alright. Boys, Lorie, listen closely.”