Exton

Long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, Stoney brushes a few strays from his face. He smiles as he leans back to watch his son. Tomas sits on the floor, playing in a mound of clay. Muddy and happy, the little boy has a menagerie of rough animal shapes surrounding him.

Stoney bends his knees, slowly dropping himself to his son's level. The little boy's face is solemn, lost in thought. Stoney opens his mind to the boy's. He recognizes each figure now. Tomas has made Lobo, Panther, Tiger, Wolf, and Dragon. Feeling his father's mental touch he looks up, tears in his eyes, he holds the bit of clay up to Stoney.

He smiles gently at his boy. The image that floods his mind is Phoenix. Making Erik's "Bird", as Tomas calls it, is a much more delicate task. Stoney takes the clay and shows him how to build it up slowly, then pinch the clay to make a flame like appearance. Between the two of them a rough semblance forms. Tomas is happy, showing Stoney just where to set it among his other creations. The little boy is soon gurgling to himself as he makes a long rope, imaging Snake.

Stoney rises and wipes his hands clean. He touches Alise' mind, finding her bathing the girls. His family was leaving later tonight and she wanted them to be a lasting image for their French relatives. He gives her a thought of Tomas, muddy and happy, and himself almost as dirty. He feels her sigh and grins. He will take Tomas in the shower with him when they got back to the cottage. Making sure she gets a good deal of him soaping himself, he laughs aloud when she mentally moans. He feels his son trying to peek through the mental barrier he and Alise use around the children and gives his wife a kiss, closing the link.

"Ah Tomas... Mama is not happy we are so... messy. I promised her we will clean up soon." He winks at his son, "When the girls are done making themselves magnifique."

He turns his gaze to his sculpture. The image Star had sketched was tacked to the wall for reference. Grace lounges on a bench, children peeking over her shoulder as she sketches. The picture is so lifelike, in his mind he can see her hand moving. Tomas touches his leg, drawing his attention. He gathers his son in his arms and stares at the picture, then his sculpture. Something was missing, he just wasn't sure what.

Tomas places a wet, muddy hand against his cheek. An image of that day slips into his thoughts. The roses. Grace was sketching the roses and Tink flashed them all. Mya had scolded Tink forever over it. Stoney grins. Of course! Grace is an artist. She specializes in "Magical Fantasy". He flips open a notebook at his desk and settles in a chair, Tomas in his lap. He writes down a list; lattice, roses, demifae. Tomas points at the door just as a gnome taps. Alise touches his mind, telling him they are done in the bath.

"I think mama wants us to clean up. Come T-man, you can even wear your Batman shirt. Mama has it out and waiting."

His son gurgles happily, picturing Nick in a Batman mask and cape.

"*Non, mon fils. Je ne pense pas que Nick porte un masque et une cape pour combattre le crime. Au moins je n'en ai jamais vu."

The little boy pouts, resting a mud caked hand on his father's cheek.

"Oui. I will see if we can find him one."


*No, my son. I don't think Nick wears a mask and cape to fight crime. At least I have never seen one.