Lucy Reborn - 79 Papa

Lucy watches Rimes Compound disappear, leaving only trees, shrubs, and a gravel road in sight. Fallen leaves and sticks covered the ground. Lucy drops the carriage curtain, letting it shut out both the view and the frosty air. “Why does our clan live so far away?” Lucy asks, tugging her hood closer to her ears. Papa smiles, tapping her nose. “Rimes Clan is unusual in that most of the direct lineage prefer country life,” Papa says, tugging Lucy onto his lap. “Even Grandmother, as the Matriarch only attends to the bare amount of social custom,” Papa says. Lucy stares at him. So many words, yet you haven’t answered my question. Papa laughs at the look on Lucy’s face. “Mother’s family lives outside the city to avoid parties and visiting,” Papa says.

Lucy buries her face in his chest. Not because they have no interest in fame or fortune. Not due to magic training. Not to avoid taxes. Just anti-social. Lucy’s shoulders shake. ???????? Bahbahaahahahaha. I’m dying!

Taking a deep breath, Lucy settles herself. Okay. Calm. Calm. A rumble makes Lucy freeze, cheeks turning a soft pink. “Is Little thing hungry? Shall we go to the Moon Cafe,” Papa says, smoothing her hair. Lucy perks up. “Moon Cafe? Where Rose got her chicken leg?” Lucy asks, almost drooling. Her heart hurt remembering Rose’s last visit, didn’t get any chicken.

“Yes! Let’s go. Faster, Papa” Lucy demands. Fried Chicken! Almost three years. I want fried chicken! Papa kisses her forehead. “Don’t fuss.”

Lucy pouts. Fine. I can wait. I totally can wait the 30 minutes. I think.

Despite the snail pace, Lucy did manage to endure until the carriage stopped outside a brick building. Lucy tilts her head, as Papa carries her in. It must be a nice place since it’s brick.

On the wall, polished rock gleamed as a waterfall gushed around and over it, into a small fountain. Brass lanterns, like the ones in Papa’s study, were bolted to the walls, and lush plants were scattered among the plush lounge chairs and side coffee tables. Pots of tea and cake, bread, and fruit platters, even a basket of fried chicken sat on the little tables. A girl of around 12 years old, with a pink veil, was laying on her stomach, one hand holding a cookie, the other keeping a scroll open.

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Why does she get to do that, but I can’t even slouch while I eat! Lucy scowls as a waiter came up, bowing. “Welcome to the Moon, Your Highness.” the waiter says. He wore a simple black tunic, and trousers with a moon embroidered on his sleeves. After noticing the moon, Lucy’s gaze quickly found the other servers. They were all dressed similarly, but most importantly, all the servers were men.

Where are the waitresses? Lucy ponders as the waiter leads them to a private room. In ancient times, wouldn’t women be more likely to act as servers? Plus it’s packed with females, wouldn’t they be more comfortable with other women attending them?