<span style="color: #FFBF40"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">House of Delecroix</span><br/><span style="font-size: 130%; line-height: 116%;">Castle Devona</span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/16aaa03c-d70c-49d0-833d-aa82d7697d9f_zpsf037c19c.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Sir Abel M. Delecroix</span></span></div></span><br/><br/>It pleased Abel to see Damian soften some when it came to his children. Certainly his words were not minced in the least--the man practically admitted to using his children to gain more power, but it seemed to at least make him happy when they were happy. Abel cut his eyes over to Iris and Hector, both who seemed more wrapped up in each other than the people they were dining with. It did not surprise Abel in the least.<br/><br/>He had a bit of anxiety, though, regardless of how well things were going. He cared deeply for his sister and he wondered how it would affect him when they were separated. He couldn't think of a time where he spent anymore than a day away from Iris since her birth. His mother would tease him for carrying Iris around when she was just a babe. He had been thin and small at the age of seven. His father would always laugh as both Iris and Abel would be thrown into a complete panic at the thought of being apart for any length of time. Of course they had their childish, sibling squabbles, but at the end of the day it was Abel who would tuck Iris in and tell her grand stories as she fell asleep.<br/><br/>Iris had become clingy when their mother died, but as she grew--she had seemed to desire distance from Abel. It was something he had noticed, but had not known how to respond. After all, between the departure of their mother and the depature of his best friend--he had felt the need to hold on very tightly. He was terrified that perhaps his decision to finally let go would come back to haunt him and he had doomed his sister to some monstrous fate.<br/><br/>Hector's eyes, however, gave him comfort. They were glued to his sister and rather soft despite Hector's rather unsoft figure. If a fate were to fall upon Iris, it would likely not be by Hector's hand.<br/><br/>Abel felt a sadness grow in him, one that he wished he could stomp out. He realized that he had spend much of his life hovering over Iris and not much for himself. His actions had likely denied Iris any chance of finding her own way in love--and even now he had chosen who she was to marry. What kind of man was he? He knew he was well within his rights and none would think poorly of him for choosing Iris' suitor, but he still felt terrible. He had always wanted Iris to be happy and he wondered if any sadness she had felt was because of him.<br/><br/>His sudden drop in mood was likely noticeable, but he tried his best to keep his spirits up. He felt a little better when he looked back at Martine's face. Her soft features contrasted greatly with her sharp, calculating eyes and he promised himself he would never stifle her. Already he felt a warmth in his heart for her and knew that with very little time he would likely love her more than any person in the world--but he could not do as he had done to his sister. He could not suffocate her, watch her every move and interaction. He had to let her live and be herself, or risk destroying the very things he loved about her.<br/><br/>The question really came down to whether or not a twenty year habit could be broken.