Post by Elizabeth Tate Potter on Jan 2, 2009 18:00:54 GMT -5
Elizabeth didn't like her name.
She liked Tate, it was a way to honor her mother in her eyes. After all-- there weren't many people she'd met that understood her at all. Tate had few problems or things that she had to worry about, so she worried about others with the same genuine concern of people twice her age worrying over their own problems. She was a sweet girl, honest to a fault that was uncanny in the world she lived in.
Most people called her naive. She didn't see it that way.
The sun was hidden behind some clouds but it didn't stop the hum lifting in her voice as she headed to work, the baker liked her well enough and that was enough to keep her going to work every day and smiling. Then again, Tate was always smiling.
Catching the smell of the other bakers and the distinct smell of dirt and animals she smiled and kept on walking, it was how the world was in her mind. She was born and raised in Manhattan. She didn't live in the drudges but she didn't live in the high class sod either. Her father was a frugal man and she loved him for it. Made living easier and made her frugal. She wasn't going to avoid the subject of money though it was her Aunt Marisa that always had her puzzled.
Her Aunt had come to them a little, off. People would always say her shouting and swinging brooms was just a phase of a woman who had lost something but Tate, could not agree. Her Aunt was missing a strong part of herself and now she was going to lose them too. If the cops got word that she was causing trouble again.
With a sigh she continued on her way, letting the breeze carry her dark hair over her shoulder. She didn't like to wear it up, seemed so confining that way. So she looked like a wild child with her long flowing hair under her hat, her brown shawl over her arms as she kept walking. The wind was picking up and it kicked off her hat.
She snapped back and jumped to catch it, letting out a ah-hah! of Success when she finally reached the wide brimmed hat that was more to keep the sun out of her eyes than to make a fashion statement.
Tate wasn't the kind of girl that really worried about things like that, but she was far to open, far to sweet, far to kind and so easy to be taken advantage of.
She liked Tate, it was a way to honor her mother in her eyes. After all-- there weren't many people she'd met that understood her at all. Tate had few problems or things that she had to worry about, so she worried about others with the same genuine concern of people twice her age worrying over their own problems. She was a sweet girl, honest to a fault that was uncanny in the world she lived in.
Most people called her naive. She didn't see it that way.
The sun was hidden behind some clouds but it didn't stop the hum lifting in her voice as she headed to work, the baker liked her well enough and that was enough to keep her going to work every day and smiling. Then again, Tate was always smiling.
Catching the smell of the other bakers and the distinct smell of dirt and animals she smiled and kept on walking, it was how the world was in her mind. She was born and raised in Manhattan. She didn't live in the drudges but she didn't live in the high class sod either. Her father was a frugal man and she loved him for it. Made living easier and made her frugal. She wasn't going to avoid the subject of money though it was her Aunt Marisa that always had her puzzled.
Her Aunt had come to them a little, off. People would always say her shouting and swinging brooms was just a phase of a woman who had lost something but Tate, could not agree. Her Aunt was missing a strong part of herself and now she was going to lose them too. If the cops got word that she was causing trouble again.
With a sigh she continued on her way, letting the breeze carry her dark hair over her shoulder. She didn't like to wear it up, seemed so confining that way. So she looked like a wild child with her long flowing hair under her hat, her brown shawl over her arms as she kept walking. The wind was picking up and it kicked off her hat.
She snapped back and jumped to catch it, letting out a ah-hah! of Success when she finally reached the wide brimmed hat that was more to keep the sun out of her eyes than to make a fashion statement.
Tate wasn't the kind of girl that really worried about things like that, but she was far to open, far to sweet, far to kind and so easy to be taken advantage of.
