April, 1979.
"It's getting worse, brother."
"I know."
"What are we to do?"
"What we always have. Remain hidden."
"Why shouldn't we aide the battle? They are dying!"
"It is none of our concern, brother. We are not a part of their world."
"And that means we cannot help those who need it? They are fighting a battle we know all too well. They are fighting for the very freedom we have here. Why should we not aide them to achieve a peace we've had for centuries?"
"Imagine the danger it would put us in, brother. There are so many here who cannot protect themselves against magic, you know that. We cannot afford to expose our community."
"There are others who agree with me, brother. Others who wish to fight."
"Then let them. Go. I cannot stop you, but know that once you leave the gates - you cannot return."
May, 1979.
"You cannot tell me you are actually thinking of leaving!"
"I must. They are losing the battle. They are losing terribly. There is too much blood being spilled for us not to step in, dear."
"But what of me? Of the baby? You would leave us here?"
"I will come back."
"You cannot! I heard what your brother said!"
"Darling, I must help. I'm doing this for us - for you. For others outside these walls to experience the same peace we do."
"You would die for those strangers? For those who have involved themselves in a war that has nothing do to with you?"
"It has everything to do with me! With us! You think that out there we could be together as we are? That our child would be treated with the respect outside of these walls no matter her blood? You think she would have a fair chance in that world?"
"This is our world! Blackstone is our world! You're a Blackstone yourself, you should understand that!"
"I do, darling. Which is why I must help."
February, 1989.
"Mummy, did my father die in the war?"
"E-excuse me?"
"Well, my teacher Ms. Parkins taught us about the War in school. She told us about the war on the other side, and how father lead a group out of the gates to help. Is that why he isn't here? Did he die in the war?"
"Oh Darling. I - I don't know."
August, 1999.
"Darling, how was your first day at work?"
"If by work, you mean hell, then it was awful."
"Oh, Heavens. Watch your language, dear."
As she removed her coat, Riley Blackstone could only roll her eyes at her mother's pleasant tone. Ever since Riley was a child, her mother always spoke with such a soft voice and inflection. Even when angered, Leila Blackstone kept such dulcet tones it was a wonder she'd managed to raise such a loud and unrestrained child such as her own.
Though, Riley was a child no longer.
Having graduated from Blackstone Academy the summer prior, the youngest living Blackstone had taken up a familiar post within the community's government Grand Building. For generations, the ruling of the hidden Village had been handed down to each of the Blackstone heirs. Being only twenty, Riley was hardly qualified to actually run the community - but her Uncle and three elder cousins were certainly wasting no time in training her.
Stepping past the entryway, Riley's nose detected the scent of her favorite dish baking from the kitchen, and it was with a sudden spring in her step that the young woman moved into the kitchen.
"You didn't have to cook for me, mum," Riley mused, reaching for a slice of cucumber her mother had just sliced before reaching up to press a kiss to the taller woman's cheek.
Her actions had been met with a stern scowl and slap to the wrist, though a soft smile tugged at the edge of her mother's lips.
"Nonsense, dear. We're celebrating tonight. You've worked hard for your position," she offered, bumping hips with her daughter to force the brunette away from snatching more vegetables for the salad.
"Hardly," was the only response Riley gave, reaching into cupboards to begin setting the small table within the kitchen.
Despite the obvious familial exchange between the pair, it would be difficult for one to see any physical relation as their appearances were quite opposite. Leila was all lines and elegance, with a lean, willowy frame and striking blonde hair that fell straight down her back. She moved and spoke with such a natural grace, with only the a single gray streak in her hair and the softest of laugh lines to tell of her age.
And then there was Riley. Her mother always told her she'd inherited her curves from her Blackstone lineage - but with only male cousins and relatives around her, Riley could see no proof in that. She was much shorter than her mother, and if Leila was the equivalence of clean lines and calm grace then Riley was curves and fire. She stood several inches shorter than her mother, with unruly black curls and eyes dark enough to match and an olive complexion that contrasted the porcelain tone of her mothers.
Of course, there was also the infamous Blackstone personality; loud and boisterous, with a do first/think later train of thought that got one (especially Riley) in trouble more oft than not. It was those moments in particular, that Leila was most proud of Riley, for she truly was a spitting image of her father.
"No magic during dinner, love. You know that."
Riley just stared at her mother, scowling softly. "I'm just trying to get the damn plates, it's not my fault you put them on the top shelf."
"Language, dear," Leila replied, sliding past her daughter to bring the salad to the table.
"Yes, mum," Riley responded, using her wand when her mother wasn't looking to float the plates down into her waiting hand.
"I saw that."
"Of course you did, mum. I'd accuse you of magic if I didn't know better - sometimes I still do," Riley responded with a that same warm smirk that had crossed her mother's lips only minutes before.
As much as Riley was like the father she'd never met, there were parts of her mother ingrained into her personality as well.
"Yes, well. Witch or Muggle, all mothers have a little magic. Just enough to know when their child is up to no good," Leila responded, her smile warm.
"Hence my never being able to get away with anything as a child, I'm sure."
"Of course, dear. Now tell me about your day."
"Oh, it was awful," Riley began, moving to set the plates at the table before checking on the lasagna in the oven.
As the two women bustled around the kitchen, Riley began the story of her first day as an official heir of Blackstone.