Olivier de Bretagne

The door opens into Olivier's chambers, Ermina asleep in the large carved bed. Olivier grimaces, having forgotten this is when the door had opened from and gestures them out towards the landing, holding a finger to his lips.

He pauses to place Mary in her crib, kissing her forehead before turning to do the same for his sleeping wife, tucking the blankets high around her. He pulls the door to and joins them, gesturing down the stairs to the hall.

The hall is by no means lavish but big enough to gather the village together. Built of local stone and study oak beams as thick as a man, it feels like a place that has and will endure. Olivier crouches to add more wood to the dying fire. "Welcome to my home."

{from here}

Olivier steps through the door, his brother and sister at his side. The door opens into his room, the fire banked low in the warm Spring evening. There's a tunic and trousers laid out over the wooden chest at the end of his bed, heavily embroidered for the occasion.

"Wine?" He offers them both, taking a bottle and a pair of polished wooden cups down from a shelf.

{ooc: Athelstan - Sonja - Olivier posting order?}

Olivier sings to himself softly as he prepares an ointment for Athelstan, to help keep the cold out in the long winter. The rich smell of mustard seed and goose fat warms the air. He doesn't realise that he's singing one of his mother's songs, one he has not heard in many years. Not since his mother died.