*at Bristol House*
Feb. 12th, 2005 11:05 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
The younger Titans have arrived at Bristol House, a sprawling "painted lady" mansion that has obviously been added to over the decades since California's time as a territory. Tall palm trees line the driveway up to the house; any Titans capable of taking flight for an aerial view of the mansion can count 17 chimneys. As they draw closer, passing by manicured hedges, they see a large, round fountain. In the center of the fountain, lashed by the spray, is a bronze figure of a horse, but not in the Classical style so imitated by the Victorians. Rather, it is a rearing mustang, complete with Western-style saddle.
Climbing the front steps to the veranda at the entrance, the Titans notice that the house has been recently painted, and they speculate quietly amongst themselves as to how many gallons of paint and how many manhours of work it took to complete such a staggering task. Kid Flash begins to chatter about the ingredients in exterior paint and their respective properties, but he is elbowed into silence by Wonder Girl, who tilts her head towards the front door, which has just opened to reveal the slight figure of Isabel Bristol. The old woman beams at the sight of the younger Titans, then looks surprised to see Speedy and Greta.
Two more of you? I wasn't expecting--
She smiles kindly.
Not that it's any trouble, of course! And what an unusual costume, my dear. An archer? My, my. The bow and arrow is a fine weapon indeed. Perhaps you'd like to see some of my great-grandfather's Indian collection? He held the Paiute-Shoshone in the highest regard. I still remember the stories he would tell about the braves he'd met. "Izzy," he'd say to me, "never let anyone tell you them Snake Indians aren't good fighters. I'd rather have a dozen Snake Indians than a whole troop of cavalry at my back."
Miss Bristol next smiles at Greta.
My, aren't you a pretty little girl? And who are you?
Greta ducks her head shyly and mumbles her name, instinctively moving closer to her teammates.
Greta? That's a sweet name. Not one you hear too often these days, but it suits you very well.
The old woman claps her hands gleefully.
Well! Now that you are all finally here, please, come in ... Brentwood wishes to take some photographs of your little group in the ballroom, and then I do hope you'll enjoy the tour we have planned for you.
Beckoning them all to follow her, Miss Bristol ushers them into the front hall and then into the ballroom, where a tall, sour-looking man silently directs them to stand in front of a gilded pipe organ. The Titans' footsteps are a trifle unsteady on the waxed parquet floor, but they obediently pose and smile for the camera, sneaking glances at the carved frieze running around the ceiling or looking up at the chandeliers dripping with crystal teardrops overhead.
And now, the tour! Please follow Brentwood, and he'll show you simply everything....
The still-silent Brentwood packs his camera away and leads the Titans out of the ballroom.
Climbing the front steps to the veranda at the entrance, the Titans notice that the house has been recently painted, and they speculate quietly amongst themselves as to how many gallons of paint and how many manhours of work it took to complete such a staggering task. Kid Flash begins to chatter about the ingredients in exterior paint and their respective properties, but he is elbowed into silence by Wonder Girl, who tilts her head towards the front door, which has just opened to reveal the slight figure of Isabel Bristol. The old woman beams at the sight of the younger Titans, then looks surprised to see Speedy and Greta.
Two more of you? I wasn't expecting--
She smiles kindly.
Not that it's any trouble, of course! And what an unusual costume, my dear. An archer? My, my. The bow and arrow is a fine weapon indeed. Perhaps you'd like to see some of my great-grandfather's Indian collection? He held the Paiute-Shoshone in the highest regard. I still remember the stories he would tell about the braves he'd met. "Izzy," he'd say to me, "never let anyone tell you them Snake Indians aren't good fighters. I'd rather have a dozen Snake Indians than a whole troop of cavalry at my back."
Miss Bristol next smiles at Greta.
My, aren't you a pretty little girl? And who are you?
Greta ducks her head shyly and mumbles her name, instinctively moving closer to her teammates.
Greta? That's a sweet name. Not one you hear too often these days, but it suits you very well.
The old woman claps her hands gleefully.
Well! Now that you are all finally here, please, come in ... Brentwood wishes to take some photographs of your little group in the ballroom, and then I do hope you'll enjoy the tour we have planned for you.
Beckoning them all to follow her, Miss Bristol ushers them into the front hall and then into the ballroom, where a tall, sour-looking man silently directs them to stand in front of a gilded pipe organ. The Titans' footsteps are a trifle unsteady on the waxed parquet floor, but they obediently pose and smile for the camera, sneaking glances at the carved frieze running around the ceiling or looking up at the chandeliers dripping with crystal teardrops overhead.
And now, the tour! Please follow Brentwood, and he'll show you simply everything....
The still-silent Brentwood packs his camera away and leads the Titans out of the ballroom.