The Necromancer's Stone; Home

"Good evening daughter, how was the match?"
"Hi Dad, it was fun.  I beat the schnozz out of them, humiliated them socially, and created permanent divisions within the team."
Than the Frostbringer, member of the immortal pantheon and Thalia's adopted father, waved his hand and looked back at the sculpture he'd been working on.  "I only asked how it was, no need for the itemized list.  Do you have any homework?"
"No."  Despite her obvious disappointment, Than continued to work.  It was very cliched, but Thalia had long known that the best way to describe him was, well, icy.  He always had been.  And Thalia knew that it had probably left her emotionally and psychologically scarred for the rest of her life.  It certainly would if she didn't fight it.  And she did, every day.  Every time she said hello, or talked to a friend, she was making an effort not to be as cold as he was.  It wasn't much, but overtime it had been helping, and would continue to do so.
"Then you should go and find something productive to do."
"Yes Dad."  Even if that meant feeling hurt every time she spoke to him.  Although, she was hardly on speaking terms with her mother either.  For all she knew, Thalia wasn't hers.  Her mother, Liane, was Than's rival in the Pantheon, the Ashwalker.  Liane had put her up for adoption as soon as she'd discovered the pregnancy; patience was a critical virtue in caring for children and Liane had never possessed it.  Besides, it would have, as Than put it, 'impeded her lifestyle'.  Thalia wasn't sure if that sort of neglect would have truly been worse.  After all, she was born immortal; its not like she was going to die because nobody fed her; and as a Nielda she wasn't going to get sick either.  The worst that could happen would have been her not growing properly, and at six foot seven, she wasn't worried.
Thalia walked up the gray stone staircase to her room in the tower.  She was neither princess nor prisoner, but the room was decorated like she was the first and she felt like the second all too often.  She was free to leave whenever she wanted, but Than wasn't much of a cook and at a certain point bread, water, and canned soup started to wear on you, usually by the second day.  But prison orange would have been preferable to the veritable cavern of pink lace and ribbon that surrounded her.  She'd never really liked the color to start.  The dresses with their pink and gold puffed sleeves made her feel like a doll.  Although the plush unicorn collection at the end of her bed was of her own design, as was the nightstand littered with every imaginable color of nail polish and eye shadow.  The trophy case she'd filled, even though it had come pre-assembled and her father had picked it out without consulting her.
But her real favorite piece in the room, was the jewelry box.  Not its contents, she only wore earrings, and anything with a desired magical effect, but the box itself.  She'd gotten it at a yard sale several years prior.  It had been enchanted to charge, maintain, and even strengthen any enchantments on the jewelry stored in it.  It was silver, the only silver visible in the room in fact, and studded with rubies.  Thalia had always loved rubies, even though her father couldn't stand them, or possibly because he couldn't stand them.  Most importantly though, she had been given it by her mother after volunteering to help keep other students from absconding with more dangerous artifacts, mislabeled wares, or rather private personal effects.  She'd also gotten a very good '34 vintage, some harsh words concerning her father, and a rather embarrassing moment involving the accidental stumbling upon of the aforementioned private personal effects.  Thalia was very fond of the box, had rather enjoyed sharing the bottle with a few of her other sufficiently aged friends, and hoped that one day she'd be able to laugh about the embarrassing moment (Or at the very least be able to laugh at someone else's reaction when she shared the story with them).
And so, as the day drew to a close, she pulled her notes out of her pack and began to organize them on the floor in the most efficient possible manner.  She had a lot of work to take care of before she could sleep if she ever planned on having a room that wasn't pink in a house that wasn't cold.