A Carpathian tradition

Bramble was used to her father's teasing tones. In truth, it was endearing to hear him try to ruffle her fur every now and then. It was out of love and her responding smile was all Art would need to know to see how much she enjoyed it. Even the thump of her tail against the chair was hard to muffle as a paw quickly reached to wrap it around her leg. Darn thing was always giving her away!

With gaze intent on the box that her father slides toward her, she feels her heart quicken. It wasn't every day that they were presented with gifts and it wasn't even her birthday! When the lid is removed, her breath catches in her throat. Eyes widening and quickly brimming with wetness. Speechless, truly speechless at way nestled safely within the velvet interior of the box. "Oh, Tati," she whispers ever so softly as he tells her that the dagger is for her. No, she already received her Carpathian gift! What had she done to receive a dagger as well?

The words he speaks proudly in their familiar language bring her tears to spill down her cheeks. Her paws left to her lips, covering her mouth for a moment before she gently slides the box to the side if only for a second before she's reaching hurriedly across the table. Wrapping her father around the shoulders and burying her face against his neck, she nuzzles Artorias deeper than she ever has before.

"Sunt atât de mândru că sunt fiica ta. Mă voi lupta în fiecare zi să fac ceea ce este bine pentru tine, mamă, familia noastră și The Hallows," Bramble makes the vow as she pulls away, beaming at her father with that sweet, sweet grin of hers. Planting a quick kiss to his cheek, she pulls away and slides the box back toward her. "Oh, it is beautiful! I-I will need time to name it!" She exclaims, her tail thumping again as she gingerly picks it up to inspect it closer.

Bramble Carpathius