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//The following sets the font to the default, in order of appearance, with a fallback of any default serif font on the device, size 18 font.
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//The following sets the colour of the text (a deep grey) on the colour of the passage (a pale pink.)
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//The following styles links, first as they appear by default (pink), and then when they are hovered over/clicked (cyan.)
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//The following styles the header and footer's appearance in terms of font styling and size- the title and RESTART command of the story.
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--
<center>
<h1>[[my heart, my heart->1]]</h1>
<p><i><small>sophia de augustine</small></i></p>
</center><center>In another lifetime, Andrey and Nikolai heed the St. Marie's call- settling down in Chalk, raising their infant daughter. Far from the imperial court's intrigue: love [[blooms, strawberry sweet.]]</center>Sunlight sidles in through the windows, slow and lazy. Andrey holds a finger to his lips, Winnifred copying him clumsily, shushing him in turn. “We’ve got to be quiet, haven’t we, Winnie? Or else dada might wake up early and ruin the surprise!” Andrey chuckles, the sound warm and low. The baby kicks excitedly, squirming as she moves to rest one chubby cheek against his shoulder, nuzzling against Andrey.
The pull of the silk wrap is wound tight, swaddling her close to his chest. Winnie hums, waving one hand in the air errantly as she blinks, taking in her new perspective of the world- Andrey quietly easing the door closed, obscuring the fall of Nikolai’s dark hair, white streak crushed against the pillow as he sleeps. “Bye bye dada,” she whispers, tilting her head to smile up at Andrey. He smooths back dark waves of her hair, kissing Winnie on the forehead. She coos, burbling, tiny hands patting to pet [[at the fabric.]]“Lovely of Yvette, really, to weave you this. Even if it was meant to go to market- well, I could never say no to you. My darling girl, mon trésor- the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Loving you is like having my heart outside of my chest- set alight in the world with reckless abandon, running off to chase cats and devour yams, isn’t that right, sweetling? You do so dearly love your yams,” Andrey chats, as he moves to rifle through the cupboards. “Yams, breakfast, lunch and dinner- that’s what we’d be eating, if it were left up to dear Winnie to decide!”
Winnie’s soft peals of laughter float over the rush of the St. Marie, river’s current strong, threading through the miller’s wheel. The air is deliciously cool, a whisper of a breeze promising a beautiful day, under dappled sunlight and sweet morning. Andrey basks in the sunlight spilling in through the curtains for a moment, gently rubbing Winnie’s back as she coos softly, still petting at the silky slip [[of her wrap.]]
“Now, dearest- let’s get down to business, shall we?” Andrey rolls up his sleeves, cuffs them meticulously- with as much care as any courtier. There is a small pleasure in the measured elegance of his motions through the space, swaying as he spins around the counter- holding Winnie securely, making her cheer and hiccup with laughter as they dance. “What do we have here?” he asks, prompting the baby to peer with big, curious eyes, sparkling as she spies the butter.
“Yummy. Winnie some p’ease,” she cajoles- pointing one chubby little finger at the butter softening on the counter. “Nice tasty.” She sniffs the air a touch dramatically, face upturned, eyes closed as she concentrates- though her expression lights up when she sees the jar of jam, strawberry red. “Jam!” she cries out, whining. Andrey sighs lovingly, moving to unscrew the cap and scoop [[out a spoonful.]]“Just a taste, dear- we’ll need to save some for the filling, won’t we? But I know you love your strawberries, I much have to concur- excellent taste, if I do say so myself!” he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, Winnie happily preoccupied with her treat. “It’ll be even nicer once it’s done, I promise you that- now, in rules of three: eight ounces of sugar, flour, and that lovely fresh butter- there they go!" Winnie smiles at the ingredients tumbling into the bowl, still clutching onto the spoon determinedly.
“Don’t worry- we haven’t forgot your tithe,” Andrey drawls, silver eyes flickering to the altar sitting quietly on a shelf. A small thimble of honey rests next to a few dried leafs, still adorned in the colours of autumnal glory. “Next, darling- would you like to help daddy? There you go, careful- and tip it just like so!” Winnie beams, dimples evident: as she all but throws in two teaspoons [[of baking powder.]]
“Now, the real mess begins- but your old man’s got a few tricks up his sleeve. Allow me to demonstrate,” Andrey says, rolling an egg along the back of his hand- gesturing with a flourish to palm it, having seemingly disappeared: only to be drawn back out again from behind Winnie’s ear, baby gasping in surprise. “Daddy will have to do this part on his own, sweetheart: we can’t have you eating any raw egg, of course, but you can hold onto one if you like, while you wait,” he says, petting her gently on the head as he offers Winnie a boiled egg.
Winnie licks at the eggshell, cradling it close to herself, held in both hands with a ferocious focus. “Winnie see,” she says, pointing at the bowl. Andrey cracks the egg one handed, the shells set off to the side to be washed and ground later in the evening. Rich yellow yolks break, spilling out in ribbons. Winnie babbles, watching as Andrey deftly beats the batter: slowing once the ingredients have been incorporated, helping Winnie grab onto the handle, dragging it haphazardly through the mixture. “Winnie help daddy,” she says, voice proud, tipping her head back expectantly, giggling as she’s kissed [[on the forehead.]]
“And what a wonderful little helper you are! Time to split this evenly- into the two pans, yes, Winnie, not onto the counter-” he laughs, moving to prevent her from flinging the spoon about. “Ah- it’s not ready to taste yet,” he chides lightly, running a fond hand through her dark shock of hair. “And now into the oven they go- bye bye, we’ll see you soon!” he says, moving to help her wave, Winnie blowing spitty bubbles as she does so. Andrey lightly dabs her mouth off with the front of her makeshift bib, a handkerchief that’d been tied with a jaunty bow.
“Bye bye,” Winnie echoes. She’s quiet as Andrey tidies up, washing and drying the dishes, rubbing sleepily at her eyes as he sets things to dry on the rack. She snuffles, sniffing at the air again- as the smell of sponge cake fills the air, wriggling around in excitement. The room warms, though fresh air tumbles over the threshold as Andrey opens the windows. “All done?” she asks, pointing [[at the oven.]]“All done indeed! Now, it’ll soon be time for our old friend jam to show up for the encore: that looks just about right to me! A bit of cooling down, or else it’ll run something dreadful: and you’ll get to poke it to make sure it’s set properly, you’ll like that,” Andrey reasons, Winnie watching his mouth intently as he speaks, babbling wordlessly to herself. “But no gouging out chunks, sweetheart, it’s a surprise cake for dada, after all, and he’s a captain’s eye, every piece of cargo lashed securely in place, neat and orderly. He certainly would notice if little fingers had a nibble first- like a mouse!”
Winnie heaves a dramatic sigh, though she’s soon distracted by the sweet songbirds trilling from the trees. Andrey is rustling through drawers, pulling out a carved wooden dish, shaped like the curve of the full moon’s belly. He spoons mashed yams into the vessel. Winnie pouts, and she gets a scooped finger of bright orange mash to content herself with, squishing the small handful about before slobbering on her hands. A flick of wildflower honey over the top- and the bowl is slid onto the altar, Andrey crumbling off a lobe of one of the oak leafs drying on the shelf, sprinkling it around [[the offering dish.]]“There, that’s Cern tended to- now, I do believe a certain someone promised to help with the jam!” Winnie cheers, clapping for herself- Andrey taking a moment to wipe her hands off with a dish towel, pressing a kiss to each palm before she closes her fist. Andrey holds the back of his hand against the cake’s top for a moment- before carefully running a knife around the edges in a swoop of silver. Both halves are tapped out onto the counter. Before he can quite stop her, Winnie’s plopped her hand down onto the cake, pressing down and squeaking at the give. Winnie leans forward again, grabbing at the spoon Andrey holds out for her, splatting strawberry jam onto the cake messily.
“Lovely. Quite generous with the filling, aren’t we? Well, it’ll be delicious in the end,” Andrey chuckles, watching as she continues to spoon jam out, smearing it about in wild swirls and divots. “Good job, Winnie! What a fantastic job you’ve done, dada will be so pleased.” Winnie nods, before licking the spoon clean, watching as Andrey assembles the top layer. He swallows a laugh when he notices her hand print, still poked into the top layer. “Mhm, there’s that business concluded. Time to give him his gift! Let’s go wake up dada!” he says, Winnie nodding along as she drops the spoon with a clatter [[onto the counter.]]
“Dada!” Winnie calls out, drumming her feet impatiently as Andrey moves to set the cake down onto the nightstand table. “Winnie and daddy treats. Treats dada,” she declares, pointing at the cake. She smiles at Nikolai, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes as he moves to hold her, Andrey undoing the silk wrap with one hand, blanketing the fabric over the baby as she snuggles up close to Nikolai, head resting in the crook of his shoulder, warm and comfortable.
“Treat. Dada,” Winnie whispers. Nikolai grunts in a little surprise as she pokes at him, shoving the hardboiled egg into his ribs. “Shhh,” she says, holding a finger clumsily to her lips- and Nikolai laughs, head tipped back. Nikolai palms the egg: and sets it onto the tray, rolling onto its side by the cake. Andrey raises a dark eyebrow, looking at Winnie curiously, the baby smiling brightly at him, still [[shushing them both.]]“Happy Father’s day, beloved. Thank you for everything you’ve given me- to the many happinesses of family, home, and hearth,” Andrey says, eyes sparkling as he brings Nikolai’s calloused hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He leans in, cupping the side of Nikolai’s face, a thumb stroking fondly over the curve of his cheek and over the light bristle of stubble, before Andrey kisses Nikolai, silver eyes sliding shut.
Winnie huffs, worming around to turn a baleful gaze up at them both. “No kiss. Dada, daddy. No-no. Kiss baby,” she demands, poking one chubby cheek, tapping expectantly over her dimples. Andrey laughs, the sound startled and sudden- before they both move to kiss Winnie’s face, baby’s eyes closing as she basks in the attention, content [[as a kitten.->start]]