Resuming Mavelle's company was welcome experience. For more reasons than her warmth and beauty, innocence and grace. Not long ago they had spoken of Mavelle's feelings towards Railtus, who sought an answer to the truth of his own heart. A man of action rather than passion, Railtus was unsure whether his passion was for Mavelle, or for the dream she saw in him. For how she saw him was as a knight and angel, both of which he so aspired to be.
Listening to her now, close mind was payed to the openness she had shared with him, and the doubts she had of herself. "The second one is hardly a lesser person. All I see now is one woman as beautiful on the inside as on the outside."
Given the choice, Railtus would rather not speak of his concerns. Not to Mavelle. Not to drag her into a matter which could so easily count against her. Not to one who was not Griori, or Angelsworn, or a fellow in Light. But her kindness deserved an answer. "Merely conscious of something I do not understand. I will be fine, although thank you for your concern. Time will give me a clearer picture."
Fingers shifted beneath the pendant, raising it to present a more clear view. "The Winged Spear. It is my holy symbol. A guiding light for me." If anything, her curiosity was charming. "There is a reason you wish to know." Railtus stated, it was not a question, instead an invitation to speak of it openly.
Family Affairs
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Sir Karsimir
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- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
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Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
(NPC POST)
Lunch was long finished. However, in deference to the command of the Lady Mavelle, a second helping was on offer. Fresh bread with recently churned butter. Pan-cooked pork and sliced apple was also prepared, the juices from the apple flavouring the meat. A number of crackers had been retained. Most of these had made an appearance at the garden table, and the servants were now putting them to good use.
Among the assistants was a dark-haired maiden. At least, it was assumed she was a maiden. Certainly female however. She glanced at the door numerous times each minute, as if expecting a visitor. The appearance of Mavelle alone was not enough to justify this.
The appearance of the other, was. A tall man with oiled black hair, matched by his exquisite beard and moustache. Such fine clothes were out of place in this kitchen. They were dark, made of supporting purples and reds. Catching sight of the maiden sparked a crooked smirk, the sort which hinted at the falseness of said maidenhood. The delight in her grin back almost confirmed it.
He approached her, standing and talking too close. Whispering in her ear. Whatever he whispered, she seemed to like, for there was a shocked delight on her face. All of this took place with practiced ease.
Of course, when it became known that she was pregnant, and a therefore an embarassment to the house, she could always be thrown out onto the street without a bishan to her name.
The sight of a man both rustic and now well-fed distracted the noble. A look of malicious amusement on his face, he swaggered over towards Julen.
"Are we now taking in strays?"
Lunch was long finished. However, in deference to the command of the Lady Mavelle, a second helping was on offer. Fresh bread with recently churned butter. Pan-cooked pork and sliced apple was also prepared, the juices from the apple flavouring the meat. A number of crackers had been retained. Most of these had made an appearance at the garden table, and the servants were now putting them to good use.
Among the assistants was a dark-haired maiden. At least, it was assumed she was a maiden. Certainly female however. She glanced at the door numerous times each minute, as if expecting a visitor. The appearance of Mavelle alone was not enough to justify this.
The appearance of the other, was. A tall man with oiled black hair, matched by his exquisite beard and moustache. Such fine clothes were out of place in this kitchen. They were dark, made of supporting purples and reds. Catching sight of the maiden sparked a crooked smirk, the sort which hinted at the falseness of said maidenhood. The delight in her grin back almost confirmed it.
He approached her, standing and talking too close. Whispering in her ear. Whatever he whispered, she seemed to like, for there was a shocked delight on her face. All of this took place with practiced ease.
Of course, when it became known that she was pregnant, and a therefore an embarassment to the house, she could always be thrown out onto the street without a bishan to her name.
The sight of a man both rustic and now well-fed distracted the noble. A look of malicious amusement on his face, he swaggered over towards Julen.
"Are we now taking in strays?"
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
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Falcon Bertille
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- Joined: Tue Feb 13, 2007 4:15 pm
When Railtus raised the pendant for her to see, Mavelle reached out, touching it with a caress as light as a whisper. “I noticed you gripping it while you were speaking with my father, and again just now. It seemed very important to you. And I suppose...I suppose it upset me to think that you might hold another woman’s token so dear.”
“But I and your god, we are not rivals competing for your heart.” Mavelle laughed, rather prettily, like water falling on tiny bells. And her caress slipped, leaving the metal to brush against Railtus’s fingertips. “Surely, in such a large heart as yours, there’s room for both of us.”
By now, they had reached the entrance to Railtus’s room. But instead of ushering him inside, Mavelle stopped, so that she stood between Railtus and the large wooden door. Shining with a strange inner light, her eyes met his. “What do you think, Railtus? Do you think you might ever speak my name with such reverence? Do you think you might ever risk your life to fight evil just because I wish it? When all is darkness and despair, do you think that you might find hope in the promises I give?”
“All that you do for faith...all that you do to serve a higher power...do you think you might ever do it, just a little bit, for me?”
“But I and your god, we are not rivals competing for your heart.” Mavelle laughed, rather prettily, like water falling on tiny bells. And her caress slipped, leaving the metal to brush against Railtus’s fingertips. “Surely, in such a large heart as yours, there’s room for both of us.”
By now, they had reached the entrance to Railtus’s room. But instead of ushering him inside, Mavelle stopped, so that she stood between Railtus and the large wooden door. Shining with a strange inner light, her eyes met his. “What do you think, Railtus? Do you think you might ever speak my name with such reverence? Do you think you might ever risk your life to fight evil just because I wish it? When all is darkness and despair, do you think that you might find hope in the promises I give?”
“All that you do for faith...all that you do to serve a higher power...do you think you might ever do it, just a little bit, for me?”
Inactivity always bothered Julen, especially when everyone around him was scurrying to get their chores done. So, after finishing his meal, he volunteered to lend a hand with the kitchen work. Initially, there had been considerable resistance to the idea -- in the main house he might be nothing more than a lowly servant, but in the kitchen he was a guest, and guests didn’t get their hands dirty. However, Julen persisted. Chatting with the head cook, he discovered that she had a sister in Shim who was known to him, which lowered her defenses a little. And his suggestion that she add a few leaves of sage to the pork and apples (a trick he’d learned from Rosemary) sealed the deal. Impressed, she finally relented enough to set him to work with a mortar and pestle, grinding cloves into a thick paste.
Despite being absorbed in his task, Julen couldn’t help noticing Phelan’s entrance, heralded as it was by the strong scent of lavender. The man’s obvious flirtation with the dark-haired lady didn’t seem like the behavior of someone who still resented losing Rosemary. In fact, it didn’t seem like the behavior of someone who even remembered that Rosemary was still alive. Perhaps Railtus had been wrong. Relieved by the prospect, Julen returned to his grinding, quite content to remain unnoticed. But Phelan’s next words dashed any hopes of anonymity.
“Are we now taking in strays?”
Suddenly clutched with unnatural tightness, the pestle struck the mortar so hard that bits of clove jumped into the air. Under normal circumstances, such a comment would not have deserved an answer. But Julen knew that silence could be interpreted as an insult. And, since he was here in Railtus’s employ, anything he said or did would be reflected on Railtus. After Railtus had helped him, it would be a poor thing to repay him by shaming him in front of his family. So, denied the satisfaction of either ignoring Phelan or saying something equally derogatory in return, Julen decided to treat Phelan’s words as a friendly jest. After all, perhaps that’s all they had been. “Even a stray can prove helpful, if he doesn’t bite or have too many fleas.”
Despite being absorbed in his task, Julen couldn’t help noticing Phelan’s entrance, heralded as it was by the strong scent of lavender. The man’s obvious flirtation with the dark-haired lady didn’t seem like the behavior of someone who still resented losing Rosemary. In fact, it didn’t seem like the behavior of someone who even remembered that Rosemary was still alive. Perhaps Railtus had been wrong. Relieved by the prospect, Julen returned to his grinding, quite content to remain unnoticed. But Phelan’s next words dashed any hopes of anonymity.
“Are we now taking in strays?”
Suddenly clutched with unnatural tightness, the pestle struck the mortar so hard that bits of clove jumped into the air. Under normal circumstances, such a comment would not have deserved an answer. But Julen knew that silence could be interpreted as an insult. And, since he was here in Railtus’s employ, anything he said or did would be reflected on Railtus. After Railtus had helped him, it would be a poor thing to repay him by shaming him in front of his family. So, denied the satisfaction of either ignoring Phelan or saying something equally derogatory in return, Julen decided to treat Phelan’s words as a friendly jest. After all, perhaps that’s all they had been. “Even a stray can prove helpful, if he doesn’t bite or have too many fleas.”
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Sir Karsimir
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- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
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Wrong. Just wrong.
On so many levels.
Mention of those jealous thoughts about another woman, one who did not exist, felt a small matter. Alone, it could merely be the honesty and trust now being extended to Railtus. Again, that would be welcome. By itself, such vulnerability could be endearing, an appeal to the compassionate heart.
A shame that it was not said alone.
Clearly Mavelle was mistaking his faith. People did sometimes. Not many truly understood such devotion to an angel rather than a god. There was no reason for her to understand. This, would be cause to enlighten, not resent.
Most of what she had just said contained the in-built assumption that he was hers, that she held some sort of claim to him. For all Railtus knew, they were not even courting. Such possessiveness was an unwelcome surprise.
"Mavelle. Please. Listen to yourself." Railtus asked of her, his voice concerned rather than disapproving. The strange light in her eyes had not escaped him, combined with what she had just said Railtus felt cause to fear for her. "You are asking for outright worship. This worries me." He shook his head sadly.
With such concern in mind, Railtus did not wish to end in a rebuke, no matter how mild. So he pushed on. "Ydren is not a god, but an angel. The original guardian angel. I do not fight evil merely for his wishes, I do so because it is right. My actions are not to serve a higher power, but a higher cause."
Hoping to head off an argument, Railtus decided to move the conversation more towards Mavelle than his own beliefs. "Mavelle. What is it that concerns you now?"
On so many levels.
Mention of those jealous thoughts about another woman, one who did not exist, felt a small matter. Alone, it could merely be the honesty and trust now being extended to Railtus. Again, that would be welcome. By itself, such vulnerability could be endearing, an appeal to the compassionate heart.
A shame that it was not said alone.
Clearly Mavelle was mistaking his faith. People did sometimes. Not many truly understood such devotion to an angel rather than a god. There was no reason for her to understand. This, would be cause to enlighten, not resent.
Most of what she had just said contained the in-built assumption that he was hers, that she held some sort of claim to him. For all Railtus knew, they were not even courting. Such possessiveness was an unwelcome surprise.
"Mavelle. Please. Listen to yourself." Railtus asked of her, his voice concerned rather than disapproving. The strange light in her eyes had not escaped him, combined with what she had just said Railtus felt cause to fear for her. "You are asking for outright worship. This worries me." He shook his head sadly.
With such concern in mind, Railtus did not wish to end in a rebuke, no matter how mild. So he pushed on. "Ydren is not a god, but an angel. The original guardian angel. I do not fight evil merely for his wishes, I do so because it is right. My actions are not to serve a higher power, but a higher cause."
Hoping to head off an argument, Railtus decided to move the conversation more towards Mavelle than his own beliefs. "Mavelle. What is it that concerns you now?"
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
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Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
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- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
(NPC POST)
With Julen engaged in his work, Phelan was unaware of any reaction which took place. Well, more fun always came from a challenge.
Not that this reaction was anything new. None dared ignore him. On the other hand, none would dare confront him either. Entertainingly enough, in their fear to do either, most fell somewhere between the two. Somehow they tried to speak back, as was obligatory, while saying nothing at the same time.
This was no different. There was nothing this mere peasant could do about it.
"Well. The way to deal with a dog that bites is with a leather strap or a stout stick. I wonder, what shall we do about the one which brings it's fleas into my kitchen?"
A new embellishment to the game would be to find out what was holding this lowly rifraff back. Did he know who were his betters? Did he so fear the bright-killer and his sword? Maybe there was a new piece of leverage that could be used.
This was going to be so much fun.
With Julen engaged in his work, Phelan was unaware of any reaction which took place. Well, more fun always came from a challenge.
Not that this reaction was anything new. None dared ignore him. On the other hand, none would dare confront him either. Entertainingly enough, in their fear to do either, most fell somewhere between the two. Somehow they tried to speak back, as was obligatory, while saying nothing at the same time.
This was no different. There was nothing this mere peasant could do about it.
"Well. The way to deal with a dog that bites is with a leather strap or a stout stick. I wonder, what shall we do about the one which brings it's fleas into my kitchen?"
A new embellishment to the game would be to find out what was holding this lowly rifraff back. Did he know who were his betters? Did he so fear the bright-killer and his sword? Maybe there was a new piece of leverage that could be used.
This was going to be so much fun.
Last edited by Sir Karsimir on Mon Feb 26, 2007 8:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
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Falcon Bertille
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- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Feb 13, 2007 4:15 pm
Mavelle sighed, extinguishing the light in her eyes with a soft shake of her head. Being around Railtus was like living on the other side of a mirror. Whenever she was sure she’d said the right thing, it turned out to be the wrong one, and whenever she was sure she’d said the wrong thing, it turned out to be right. “I was not asking for you to build me a church,” she attempted to explain. “I was only wondering if, one day, I might inspire certain things in you, as a lady inspires her knight. I wondered if my name might ever mean something special to you. I wondered if my presence in the world might ever give you even more reason to fight to make it a better place. I wondered if I might ever spark hope when you need it most.”
“I apologize if my words offended.” Staring at the floor between them, Mavelle spoke with genuine regret. “It was not my intent to cheapen your faith. A misunderstanding made me overly bold. When you held me in the garden, when you kissed my cheek, when you accepted my token -- I thought those things meant more than they did. Now, I see that you were only being kind to an upset girl. Thank you. For your kindness. I...enjoyed it.”
Standing aside, Mavelle pushed open the door to Railtus’s room. She wanted to allow him a graceful exit. One where he didn’t need to explain, or apologize, or try to comfort her. Even if his saintly nature never grew tired of doing that, it was not the way she wanted him to think of her. She was too proud to win him with her tears. So she held her head up, trying to emulate her mother’s grace and poise, as she gestured into the room. “This is where you’ll be staying. Please let me know if there's anything you'd like added to it."
“I apologize if my words offended.” Staring at the floor between them, Mavelle spoke with genuine regret. “It was not my intent to cheapen your faith. A misunderstanding made me overly bold. When you held me in the garden, when you kissed my cheek, when you accepted my token -- I thought those things meant more than they did. Now, I see that you were only being kind to an upset girl. Thank you. For your kindness. I...enjoyed it.”
Standing aside, Mavelle pushed open the door to Railtus’s room. She wanted to allow him a graceful exit. One where he didn’t need to explain, or apologize, or try to comfort her. Even if his saintly nature never grew tired of doing that, it was not the way she wanted him to think of her. She was too proud to win him with her tears. So she held her head up, trying to emulate her mother’s grace and poise, as she gestured into the room. “This is where you’ll be staying. Please let me know if there's anything you'd like added to it."
Julen gritted his teeth. If he’d had cloves in his mouth, they would have been ground to a paste far more efficiently than could ever be achieved with a mortar and pestle. Needing a moment to regain his composure, Julen let his eyes flick past Phelan, to the dark-haired lady he’d been flirting with. Was she impressed by this display of bravado? Rosemary, Julen knew, would not have been. Not in the least. And he felt curious about what sort of women earned Phelan’s attention. Had Rosemary been typical? Or was she a fluke, chosen for her beauty without any regard to her other virtues?
Such thoughts distracted Julen’s mind from references to leather straps and stout sticks, allowing him to get his temper under control. It was now painfully clear that Phelan’s words were intended as insults. And it was also painfully clear that there was nothing Julen could do about it, other than pretending not to notice the malice hidden in them. Julen hated to play the fool. But what choice did he have?
Since there was no decent way of replying to Phelan’s last comment, Julen decided to change the topic. So far, he hadn’t been able to tell if Phelan knew him, and was attacking him personally -- perhaps driven, as Railtus had suggested, by bitterness over Rosemary’s rejection. Or if he was no more to Phelan than some anonymous peasant who could be pushed around for the sheer amusement of it. Determining the answer to that, in as neutral a manner as possible, might help him keep this conversation from getting any worse.
“Lord Phelan,” Julen began, with properly lowered eyes. After his talk with Railtus, he knew that “Lord” wasn’t the proper form of address, but he figured that Phelan couldn’t get too upset about the use of a title higher than what he deserved. And by the gods, he’d choke to death on sand before he called Phelan “Master”. “It’s a pleasure to enjoy your company again. You’re looking well.”
Such thoughts distracted Julen’s mind from references to leather straps and stout sticks, allowing him to get his temper under control. It was now painfully clear that Phelan’s words were intended as insults. And it was also painfully clear that there was nothing Julen could do about it, other than pretending not to notice the malice hidden in them. Julen hated to play the fool. But what choice did he have?
Since there was no decent way of replying to Phelan’s last comment, Julen decided to change the topic. So far, he hadn’t been able to tell if Phelan knew him, and was attacking him personally -- perhaps driven, as Railtus had suggested, by bitterness over Rosemary’s rejection. Or if he was no more to Phelan than some anonymous peasant who could be pushed around for the sheer amusement of it. Determining the answer to that, in as neutral a manner as possible, might help him keep this conversation from getting any worse.
“Lord Phelan,” Julen began, with properly lowered eyes. After his talk with Railtus, he knew that “Lord” wasn’t the proper form of address, but he figured that Phelan couldn’t get too upset about the use of a title higher than what he deserved. And by the gods, he’d choke to death on sand before he called Phelan “Master”. “It’s a pleasure to enjoy your company again. You’re looking well.”
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Sir Karsimir
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- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
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"Mavelle. Please stay."
At long bloody last, Railtus showed some vulnerability. It was about time. While such strength and concern for the cares of others was admirable and inspiring, it also removed him from those around him. As though he were not a person, but merely an idea pretending to be flesh. Now was a sign of humanity, weaknesses included.
"What you wondered, I am not ready to answer. I was... happy for the chance to speak alone with you again. Because of you. Holding you before, I never wanted that moment to end."
Accepting the difficulty of his admission, Railtus looked around for something to sit down upon. The closest such thing to hand was the bed. He stepped over, sat and removed his shield.
"I think..." he began, then gave up and started over. "I don't know what to say." A pause, as Railtus held his head in his hands. "I know well and truly nothing about matters of the heart." Railtus confessed, looking up as he did so. "Least of all my own."
Fighting down his own embarassment, Railtus pressed on. "Where we are, this feels like we have been courting for weeks or months. Yet I have known you barely more than an hour. Of which I spent twenty minutes in the bath." A desperate sound came out. Half chuckle, half sigh.
"So, please, don't go."
At long bloody last, Railtus showed some vulnerability. It was about time. While such strength and concern for the cares of others was admirable and inspiring, it also removed him from those around him. As though he were not a person, but merely an idea pretending to be flesh. Now was a sign of humanity, weaknesses included.
"What you wondered, I am not ready to answer. I was... happy for the chance to speak alone with you again. Because of you. Holding you before, I never wanted that moment to end."
Accepting the difficulty of his admission, Railtus looked around for something to sit down upon. The closest such thing to hand was the bed. He stepped over, sat and removed his shield.
"I think..." he began, then gave up and started over. "I don't know what to say." A pause, as Railtus held his head in his hands. "I know well and truly nothing about matters of the heart." Railtus confessed, looking up as he did so. "Least of all my own."
Fighting down his own embarassment, Railtus pressed on. "Where we are, this feels like we have been courting for weeks or months. Yet I have known you barely more than an hour. Of which I spent twenty minutes in the bath." A desperate sound came out. Half chuckle, half sigh.
"So, please, don't go."
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
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Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
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- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
(NPC POST)
More than anything, the expression on the dark-haired servant's face was one of confusion. It was not within her to judge, least of all not the nobleman who had lavished her with his attentions. Of course, this malicious outburst did not entertain her either. The attempt to convey no reaction conveyed a very clear reaction in itself.
Phelan saw the flicker in Julen's eyes, and found a challenge in that. Not the challenge of sport, but a sense of meaningful personal opposition. Sparkling teeth gritted in a vengeful sneer.
"Well of course it is a pleasure to enjoy my company. The ladies are sure to say so, at any rate. One certainly comes to mind."
When comments such as these were made, it was worth pointing out that Phelan was wearing a sword.
More than anything, the expression on the dark-haired servant's face was one of confusion. It was not within her to judge, least of all not the nobleman who had lavished her with his attentions. Of course, this malicious outburst did not entertain her either. The attempt to convey no reaction conveyed a very clear reaction in itself.
Phelan saw the flicker in Julen's eyes, and found a challenge in that. Not the challenge of sport, but a sense of meaningful personal opposition. Sparkling teeth gritted in a vengeful sneer.
"Well of course it is a pleasure to enjoy my company. The ladies are sure to say so, at any rate. One certainly comes to mind."
When comments such as these were made, it was worth pointing out that Phelan was wearing a sword.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
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Falcon Bertille
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- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Feb 13, 2007 4:15 pm
“Oh...I thought...” Mavelle’s regal poise dropped away from her like a discarded scarf, and she let go of the door, allowing it to swing shut behind her as she hurried over to Railtus. Part of her wanted to wrap him in her arms and never let go. But that seemed unlikely to help either of them think clearly. So, instead, she sat down on the bed beside him.
“You seemed so sure about everything -- about good and evil, about your faith, about your destiny in the world. I just assumed that your heart was a land with no unmapped territory.”
Reaching over, Mavelle took one of Railtus’s hands. Tenderly, she raised it, so that her cheek rested in the cradle of his spread fingers. “But don’t you see? I don’t know either. Ever since I met you, I’ve been making a fool of myself, because I don’t know what else to do. I’ve learned the formal rules of courtship. I’ve read all the great romantic stories. But none of that tells me what to do when your smile is like sunshine, when the smallest hint of your disapproval darkens my world like storm clouds. None of it tells me how to pass the minutes, which suddenly seem so cold and lonely, when I’m not in your arms.”
Mavelle bowed her head, and her hair fell forward with a soft rustle, hiding her face, hiding Railtus’s hand pressed against her cheek, creating a hidden world curtained on all sides by strands of shimmering pale gold. “I don’t know, Railtus. I don’t know if what I feel is love. And even if it is love, I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe no one ever really knows. Maybe they just stumble along, pretending afterward that it all made sense.”
“But I do know that when you kissed me, my heart felt like it was blooming. And I won’t go. We can talk, or sit here in silence. But I won’t go. Not if you don’t want me to.”
“You seemed so sure about everything -- about good and evil, about your faith, about your destiny in the world. I just assumed that your heart was a land with no unmapped territory.”
Reaching over, Mavelle took one of Railtus’s hands. Tenderly, she raised it, so that her cheek rested in the cradle of his spread fingers. “But don’t you see? I don’t know either. Ever since I met you, I’ve been making a fool of myself, because I don’t know what else to do. I’ve learned the formal rules of courtship. I’ve read all the great romantic stories. But none of that tells me what to do when your smile is like sunshine, when the smallest hint of your disapproval darkens my world like storm clouds. None of it tells me how to pass the minutes, which suddenly seem so cold and lonely, when I’m not in your arms.”
Mavelle bowed her head, and her hair fell forward with a soft rustle, hiding her face, hiding Railtus’s hand pressed against her cheek, creating a hidden world curtained on all sides by strands of shimmering pale gold. “I don’t know, Railtus. I don’t know if what I feel is love. And even if it is love, I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe no one ever really knows. Maybe they just stumble along, pretending afterward that it all made sense.”
“But I do know that when you kissed me, my heart felt like it was blooming. And I won’t go. We can talk, or sit here in silence. But I won’t go. Not if you don’t want me to.”
Last edited by Falcon Bertille on Tue Feb 27, 2007 6:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Julen felt a pang of sympathy for the girl with dark hair. And, for the first time, he began to understand why Rosemary did not speak of her old suitor. Had Phelan done something like this on their last trip to Marn? Had he shown her his true colors? How brave she’d been to walk away from him, when so many women would have allowed themselves to be seduced by his looks and money. Like the poor girl standing there. Sadly, Julen wished that she managed to find some small fraction of Rosemary’s strength.
It did not occur to him that much of Rosemary’s strength might have come from the knowledge that a good man awaited her with his heart in his hands.
Unfortunately, Phelan’s reply proved less enlightening. Still no names, no times or places, no acknowledgement that Phelan remembered ever meeting Julen before. The mention of a particular woman was suggestive -- it might refer to Rosemary. But then again, maybe Phelan was just spouting generic insults, trying to bait Julen by inferring that he’d seduced Julen’s mother, or sister, or daughter.
Julen was torn. On one hand, he still wanted to know if Phelan held something personal against him. On the other hand, he did not want to hear Rosemary’s name drop from those smirking lips. The very idea of it seemed to sully her.
Finally, Julen decided to risk a vague inquiry. If Phelan responded with specifics, then he’d have a better idea where this spite was coming from, and maybe be able to diffuse it. If not, then Phelan was just a bully, and Julen would try to endure his verbal beating until the noble got bored and went off to find a new target.
“A particular lady, M’lord?”
It did not occur to him that much of Rosemary’s strength might have come from the knowledge that a good man awaited her with his heart in his hands.
Unfortunately, Phelan’s reply proved less enlightening. Still no names, no times or places, no acknowledgement that Phelan remembered ever meeting Julen before. The mention of a particular woman was suggestive -- it might refer to Rosemary. But then again, maybe Phelan was just spouting generic insults, trying to bait Julen by inferring that he’d seduced Julen’s mother, or sister, or daughter.
Julen was torn. On one hand, he still wanted to know if Phelan held something personal against him. On the other hand, he did not want to hear Rosemary’s name drop from those smirking lips. The very idea of it seemed to sully her.
Finally, Julen decided to risk a vague inquiry. If Phelan responded with specifics, then he’d have a better idea where this spite was coming from, and maybe be able to diffuse it. If not, then Phelan was just a bully, and Julen would try to endure his verbal beating until the noble got bored and went off to find a new target.
“A particular lady, M’lord?”
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Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
(NPC POST)
Justice did not dwell so much in some hearts as in others. For all the serving girl's disappointment, more of it was about the fact that Phelan showed more interest in tormenting the peasant than her, as opposed to the cruelty and injustice on display. A mournful frown crossed her face.
Such an innocent inquiry brought a wide grin to Phelan. He had seen this before. There was only so many times someone could change the subject without reacting, each time they changed it was a sign of victory over them at each turn.
What filled the aristocrat with rage was the hint of pity on the face of his target. On a peasant! A mere rustic peasant! Not even dressed for the city, or for the House in which he had walked. For such a base-born thing to enter his home was an insult, an offence to the order of things.
"Well, no particular lady. After all, it would not be very accurate of me to use the word lady now, would it?" Phelan hinted.
"Would it?" he asked again, not allowing the question to be ignored.
Justice did not dwell so much in some hearts as in others. For all the serving girl's disappointment, more of it was about the fact that Phelan showed more interest in tormenting the peasant than her, as opposed to the cruelty and injustice on display. A mournful frown crossed her face.
Such an innocent inquiry brought a wide grin to Phelan. He had seen this before. There was only so many times someone could change the subject without reacting, each time they changed it was a sign of victory over them at each turn.
What filled the aristocrat with rage was the hint of pity on the face of his target. On a peasant! A mere rustic peasant! Not even dressed for the city, or for the House in which he had walked. For such a base-born thing to enter his home was an insult, an offence to the order of things.
"Well, no particular lady. After all, it would not be very accurate of me to use the word lady now, would it?" Phelan hinted.
"Would it?" he asked again, not allowing the question to be ignored.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
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Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Kind hands glided from radiant cheeks around to trace the soft skin of Mavelle's lovely neck. From there, there was an indecision in a touch at once seeking both to brush the neck affectionately and run the strong fingers through silky gold hair.
"You never made a fool of yourself." Railtus answered, quite truthfully. He saw a woman hide behind anger against pain, yet immediately find courage against it. He saw Mavelle handle percieved rejection with dignity and grace. "Remember what I said about not fearing me?" he added dryly, "Doubts like this were what I was thinking of. If I go against something you say, that does not mean I am offended. Now, when I become perfect, then I'll ask the same of you. Deal?"
A long gap followed the offered promise.
There. Out loud. Hearing the L-word brought a smile to his face. "One question is what do you want to do?" Railtus asked, placing the answer in Mavelle's hands. "Feeling so much so soon, it could be. Maybe that is a chance worth taking."
Describing this was not easy, since at once Railtus had to ackowledge his own feelings but accept the fact that they were probably more intense from Mavelle.
Good fortune had kept the harsh leather gauntlets tucked into his sword-belt. He had to adjust the sword sticking out as he turned further towards Mavelle, already lamenting the moment in which he took so much as one hand away from her. The other hand slid around her shoulder, fingers reaching the upper edge of her back.
Stooping from his seat, Railtus attempted to see into that hair-hidden face.
"You never made a fool of yourself." Railtus answered, quite truthfully. He saw a woman hide behind anger against pain, yet immediately find courage against it. He saw Mavelle handle percieved rejection with dignity and grace. "Remember what I said about not fearing me?" he added dryly, "Doubts like this were what I was thinking of. If I go against something you say, that does not mean I am offended. Now, when I become perfect, then I'll ask the same of you. Deal?"
A long gap followed the offered promise.
There. Out loud. Hearing the L-word brought a smile to his face. "One question is what do you want to do?" Railtus asked, placing the answer in Mavelle's hands. "Feeling so much so soon, it could be. Maybe that is a chance worth taking."
Describing this was not easy, since at once Railtus had to ackowledge his own feelings but accept the fact that they were probably more intense from Mavelle.
Good fortune had kept the harsh leather gauntlets tucked into his sword-belt. He had to adjust the sword sticking out as he turned further towards Mavelle, already lamenting the moment in which he took so much as one hand away from her. The other hand slid around her shoulder, fingers reaching the upper edge of her back.
Stooping from his seat, Railtus attempted to see into that hair-hidden face.
Last edited by Sir Karsimir on Wed Feb 28, 2007 2:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
A wave of relief swept over Julen. If Phelan was going to drop Rosemary’s name, surely he would have done it by now. The fact that he hadn’t meant he had no reason to associate it with Julen. And that, in turn, meant he didn’t remember meeting Julen. So there was no way this could be personal.
When he’d thought that Phelan was insulting him, insulting Julen of Shim, Julen had gotten mad. But now it seemed that Phelan was only casting slurs at shadows. Any man in Marn might be standing there, dressed as Julen was, and Phelan would be saying much the same to him. Julen’s anger drained away like sand in an hourglass. How could he be upset about slights he’d done nothing to earn?
Also, when there was a chance that Phelan might be lashing out because of Rosemary, Julen had felt a perverse sense of shame. If the noble was bitter about something Julen had done, then that was Julen’s fault -- even if no one else in the world would consider that act of marrying Rosemary as doing something wrong. Since the guilt made him feel like he deserved the verbal punishment, he hadn’t seriously considered fighting back. But if this was just anonymous bile...well then.
A slight smile flickered on Julen’s lips, and then was gone. He couldn’t win this. The rules of society had made sure of that. But there were ways to agree without truly agreeing, ways to imply insult without actually saying anything insulting. Maybe he’d at least get in a good jab or two.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the mortar, Julen answered Phelan’s insistent question. “I’m sure that I don’t know. I simply assumed that your Lordship would confine his pleasuring to women who deserved the title of lady.” Julen dearly wanted to add: Am I wrong? Do you consort with whores? But he knew better. So he left it as an implication.
When he’d thought that Phelan was insulting him, insulting Julen of Shim, Julen had gotten mad. But now it seemed that Phelan was only casting slurs at shadows. Any man in Marn might be standing there, dressed as Julen was, and Phelan would be saying much the same to him. Julen’s anger drained away like sand in an hourglass. How could he be upset about slights he’d done nothing to earn?
Also, when there was a chance that Phelan might be lashing out because of Rosemary, Julen had felt a perverse sense of shame. If the noble was bitter about something Julen had done, then that was Julen’s fault -- even if no one else in the world would consider that act of marrying Rosemary as doing something wrong. Since the guilt made him feel like he deserved the verbal punishment, he hadn’t seriously considered fighting back. But if this was just anonymous bile...well then.
A slight smile flickered on Julen’s lips, and then was gone. He couldn’t win this. The rules of society had made sure of that. But there were ways to agree without truly agreeing, ways to imply insult without actually saying anything insulting. Maybe he’d at least get in a good jab or two.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the mortar, Julen answered Phelan’s insistent question. “I’m sure that I don’t know. I simply assumed that your Lordship would confine his pleasuring to women who deserved the title of lady.” Julen dearly wanted to add: Am I wrong? Do you consort with whores? But he knew better. So he left it as an implication.