"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence."
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For centuries, humankind has used the stars. Whether it be for navigating across unfamiliar oceans, for preserving myths and legends of great heroes who were bestowed a spot in the heavens by the gods...
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IT DID NOT take very long for the March house to fall into disrepair. It had seemed Marmee had taken all the sensibility with her, as unwashed dishes pulled in the sink, socks and skirts laid abandoned and were inadvertently kicked under sofas and chairs, and the list of chores got longer and longer each passing day. The girls did their best to emulate the qualities Marmee so ardently believed they had, but without her gentle hand guiding them throughout the day, their routines fell apart and they worked in short, sporadic moments of passion rather than following Marmee's dutiful example. Charlotte was as guilty in this as the rest of the girls, as she laid lazily in bed until the sun was high above the trees tops and meddled with her star charts and maps for hours upon hours, before playing the rest of the day away at the Hummel's or with Laurie and Jo.
"What on earth are you doing?" Charlotte asked Amy one morning as she joined them all at the kitchen table, laying out her blank maps and drumming her fingers along the little bottle of ink she carried. Charlotte was planning on stepping into the garden with her astronomy book and pens to draw up a new map, but she had become distracted as she watched Amy with a curious eye. She had one foot in a bucket and plaster was smeared across both her hands and cheeks. A mischievous glint lit up her eyes as she stood up and straightened her hunched over figure.
"I'm making a mold of my foot for Laurie to remind him I have nice feet." Amy said as she stabbed the spatula into the bucket of plaster, grunting with effort as she mixed the hardening mixture one more time.
"Mr. Brooke writes that Father is still very weak, but improving. Mr. Brooke also says Mother is the best nurse a man could have..." Meg held Mr. Brooke's letter adoringly, trailing her fingers over the looping and curved letters with care, as if anything but the most delicate touch would erase them.
"I wish all the letters were from Mother, and not Mr. Brooke." Jo huffed, crossing out a line from her newest play with a harsh scratch. She had no qualms about making her irritation towards the man widely known, and her sisters and Charlotte rolled their eyes.
Meg folded the letter with a tender heart and slipped it into the pocket of her dress. "I'm grateful for any letters." She said, patting the letter once more before she began working on the ever-growing list of chores.
Beth paused her embroidery and held out the shoes she planned on gifted to Mr. Laurence. The royal purple shoes were decorated with delicate green leaves and flowers with stems that braided around themselves and sprouted brilliant yellow and pink buds. "I think the deep purple is very fitting for Mr. Laurence, do you agree Amy?"
Amy glanced over her shoulder and nodded decidedly. "Quite. And the design is very cunning." She pointed a plaster covered finger towards the shoes before stabbing the mixture again with her spatula.
"I had to thank him somehow for allowing me to play the piano at his house all the time." Beth hummed, stitching another little leaf into the shoe. Her cheeks tinged pink as she though of the old man's generosity.
