The moment stretched, and he could see the question in her eyes, even as he resisted the impulse. When she finally looked down and released his hand, he was grateful for the momentary distraction. Propriety was all well and good, but even though he considered her a friend, he had to maintain an objective mindset if he was to be any help to her at all, or to himself. He did not know her very well, even though he suspected what little he did know was more than she allowed others to see, but he suspected that she did not want to be coddled right then. The moment of weakness had passed, and now was her time to regain control.
She stood, without any apparent reluctance, and pulled her gloves back on, presenting them to him to add the finishing touches. She did not need him to, he knew, having seen her do it herself on more than one occasion, but this was about power. He let her stand over him, eyes on the task as he buttoned each one and aligned them with almost exaggerated care. There was a strange sense of the forbidden in this, even though he was only helping her with her armour, as it were. Then it was done, and they rose to leave. The boarding house was still quiet when he locked the door behind him, most residents being of the day shift variety, and he was aware of Gaddis' eyes on them again as they departed. He paid it no mind; whatever conclusions were drawn, it would only serve to add fuel to a fire already burning.
The legal paperwork was dealt with quickly; he knew the clerks involved of old, and passed the time chatting quietly with them about issues in the market while the documents were prepared and amended as necessary. Ivone was placing her trust in him here, which was a rare currency indeed, and he always tried to repay trust in kind, so every agreement and document was weighted in her favour. It drew some curious looks, but the concerns were easily deflected and turned to useful purpose. With that done, he arranged for movers and landscapers to visit her home to take care of that business, certain that word of it would travel quickly.
Throughout the whole affair, while Ivone was her usual, pleasant self, he could not help but feel that something was missing from her demeanor. Her words felt hollow to him, as though her heart was not truly in it, and he felt a pang of understanding. What she wished to do was daunting in the extreme, and her life in Marn to date had effectively ended for the second time. Vengeance blackened the soul, he knew, and she had devoted years of life to it only for it to bite her. Not being able to trust one's mind or judgement was a difficult burden to bear, but he had faith that she would power through it.
The house was the next step, and he took a steadying breath before he stepped inside. It seemed silly, and in fact it was silly, but he'd never owned property like this before. Oh yes, he'd bought and sold any number of houses and businesses, passed assets around like party favours for one cause or another, but they had never been his, not really. This was, and even though he was holding it in trust for her, there was still a certain responsibility there beyond what was already established. It was well designed, he felt, at least from his understanding of it. Functional without being excessive, it nevertheless gave the impression of modest wealth, with enough room for a small family and the accompanying servants without it ever seeming crowded. He tried to picture them moving through the space, knowing that he would need to establish some kind of residency to keep the house livable. He was about to say as much when Ivone spoke, and he turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow.
"A woman? A friend? Do we need labels?"
He held his hands out to emphasize the statement.
"Only you can decide," he said, "but whatever you decide, this place will be here for you."
He smiled,
"And any and all profits from your business," he said, "will be held in trust for you until your return."
He took a breath, deciding to put voice to something he'd been struggling with since her revelations.
"There are things I want to tell you," he said, "because they will ease your passage. But I know you would rather make the journey on your own merits, so I will simply say this; you are far braver, and far more capable than you give yourself credit for. This will not defeat you."
Out with the Old
Re: Out with the Old
When Tius spoke, Ivone turned to regard him. She had spoken aloud and he had responded, thinking she asked what she was to him.
So, he does see me as a woman and as a friend. It was the following words, which jolted her. The surprise registered on her face, she couldn’t hide it. Weren’t the profits from the business to be payment for his help, his silence? His words from earlier returned: he had few friends and he counted her among them.
Some emotion, some expression must have welled up, then. In a gesture born on impulse, on the moment, Ivone moved, stepping into his outstretched arms. She pressed close and wrapped her arms around his waist, head to his chest, giving Tius a hug. She ran the risk of getting the lines from his coat’s lapels creased into her cheek, but she didn’t care. She gave no words. She’d already expressed her thanks. She gave Tius a gentle squeeze.
Only because you are by my side.
When she pulled away from him, she looked up at him, eyes shining, face radient from the unexpressed emotion. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows and gilded them both.
“I think I might stay to look around. If that is alright with you?” She peered at him, waiting on his acquiescence, before moving further into the house. With those few well-placed words, he made this her home, their home in the loosest sense, and made her future less bleak.
As in his home, Ivone toured the place with both her eyes and her hands, though here she kept the gloves on, only because it was cold. The home was constructed well and even the colors were pleasant. She imagined the room with her things in them: the settee here, the pianoforte there, a warm, cheery fire. In the front, space for an office of some kind was available. The kitchen and formal dining room lay opposite. A coat closet and water closet sat in between. She smiled as she peered into the back garden. From the kitchen, a pantry and root cellar were accessible.
“Even with a small greenhouse, Shen would have plenty of greenspace to stretch his legs.” The expectation in her mind was a given. He and Shen would be welcome at any time, of course. The grounds were much smaller than the one she had now, but bigger than the ones she’d grown up with. This middle ground, no pun intended, would suit her fine.
Ivone moved toward the stairs, drawing her fingers on the balustrade. There were twenty steps leading to a walkway that overlooked the foyer. The master bedroom was the primary room at the top of the stairs. Two smaller rooms were at either end of the walk, room enough for a child’s room and a guest room. Adjacent to one of the smaller rooms was a full bathroom. Another bathing room and toilet were in the master. A door opened to a set of narrow stairs leading to an attic that spanned the entire house. This could be another guest room.
When she finished touring, she was ready to begin packing, ready to begin this new phase.
“It’s a pity I won’t have much time here. I think I will like being here.” This house had more warmth to it than the mansion in which she lived. In truth, she rarely entered most rooms in the mansion. The size of this place suited her better.
“I suppose I should start packing the things I will take with me and labeling the things to be packed.” She had the list from the last assessment. If Tius volunteered to help, she would accept it, but she expected he would need to work. As they entered the carriage, Ivone said it again, because she felt it.
“Thank you.”
The Day of the Harvest Ball
Melika had arrived the day prior in a flurry and huff and Ivone had rebuffed her attempts to enter.
“You may enter when the house in yours. For the next two weeks, this house is still mine.” The harpy had left, feathers ruffled, promising to return with Andreas and a guardsman. Ivone wasn’t ashamed of the sense of vindication she received and couldn’t wait to tell Tius about it. Time passed, though, as she continued to inventory what was and was not part of the assessment.
In the end, it turned out Tian had purchased many new things for his pretty, young wife. Ivone would have little need to replace many common household items. The rest she tagged for consignment, because she wanted to start over as her own person, instead of Tian’s doll. There was a certain glee in that, too, though she wasn’t ready to speak on that yet. Perhaps, with distance between them she could express the more raw things, the observations about herself. Or, perhaps, if she saw him at the Ball, she would tell him as they danced.
If.
She’d failed to ask him if he were attending. Ivone did not ask him to attend with her, as she felt it might be too risky for him, but true to form, she'd received a beautiful dress and slippers with a note from him.
Bloom,
I know you have consigned all but a few sensible gowns. When you go to the Ball, you will go in style. Shouldn't all beautiful blooms be surrounded in beauty?
Your friend,
Butterfly
This note went into her keepsake box. Ivone smiled at the dress. Ivone no longer needed to wear mourning colors and the dress Tiss had selected was exquisite. He must have chosen it himself. If he'd left it to someone else, the dress would not have the tactile sensuality, nor lack of adornment that she preferred. The inlay stitching at the bodice and corset ties, even the grommets for the ties, showed Tius had noticed things about her.
The Lady's maid she'd hired was especially deft and arranged her hair to fall around her face, yet expose her throat and decolletage perfectly. The sleeves of the dress sat just off her shoulders and extended down to her hands. The corseted top rounded her breasts and pushed them high, while accentuating her narrow waist. The bustle was near minimal, which suited Ivone fine. She cared little for the gigantic ones that gave a woman an unnatural silhouette, something Tius must have also observed. The length of the skirt was perfect, allowing Ivone to wear the dancing slippers that matched the dress without tripping over the skirt.
Ivone stood and surveyed herself in the mirror, content with the picture she presented. The dress was a pale, silvery blue, that accentuated her coloring without washing her out. What surprised her was the sound of the knocker on her door.
Had Melika actually returned, now?
So, he does see me as a woman and as a friend. It was the following words, which jolted her. The surprise registered on her face, she couldn’t hide it. Weren’t the profits from the business to be payment for his help, his silence? His words from earlier returned: he had few friends and he counted her among them.
Some emotion, some expression must have welled up, then. In a gesture born on impulse, on the moment, Ivone moved, stepping into his outstretched arms. She pressed close and wrapped her arms around his waist, head to his chest, giving Tius a hug. She ran the risk of getting the lines from his coat’s lapels creased into her cheek, but she didn’t care. She gave no words. She’d already expressed her thanks. She gave Tius a gentle squeeze.
Only because you are by my side.
When she pulled away from him, she looked up at him, eyes shining, face radient from the unexpressed emotion. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows and gilded them both.
“I think I might stay to look around. If that is alright with you?” She peered at him, waiting on his acquiescence, before moving further into the house. With those few well-placed words, he made this her home, their home in the loosest sense, and made her future less bleak.
As in his home, Ivone toured the place with both her eyes and her hands, though here she kept the gloves on, only because it was cold. The home was constructed well and even the colors were pleasant. She imagined the room with her things in them: the settee here, the pianoforte there, a warm, cheery fire. In the front, space for an office of some kind was available. The kitchen and formal dining room lay opposite. A coat closet and water closet sat in between. She smiled as she peered into the back garden. From the kitchen, a pantry and root cellar were accessible.
“Even with a small greenhouse, Shen would have plenty of greenspace to stretch his legs.” The expectation in her mind was a given. He and Shen would be welcome at any time, of course. The grounds were much smaller than the one she had now, but bigger than the ones she’d grown up with. This middle ground, no pun intended, would suit her fine.
Ivone moved toward the stairs, drawing her fingers on the balustrade. There were twenty steps leading to a walkway that overlooked the foyer. The master bedroom was the primary room at the top of the stairs. Two smaller rooms were at either end of the walk, room enough for a child’s room and a guest room. Adjacent to one of the smaller rooms was a full bathroom. Another bathing room and toilet were in the master. A door opened to a set of narrow stairs leading to an attic that spanned the entire house. This could be another guest room.
When she finished touring, she was ready to begin packing, ready to begin this new phase.
“It’s a pity I won’t have much time here. I think I will like being here.” This house had more warmth to it than the mansion in which she lived. In truth, she rarely entered most rooms in the mansion. The size of this place suited her better.
“I suppose I should start packing the things I will take with me and labeling the things to be packed.” She had the list from the last assessment. If Tius volunteered to help, she would accept it, but she expected he would need to work. As they entered the carriage, Ivone said it again, because she felt it.
“Thank you.”
The Day of the Harvest Ball
Melika had arrived the day prior in a flurry and huff and Ivone had rebuffed her attempts to enter.
“You may enter when the house in yours. For the next two weeks, this house is still mine.” The harpy had left, feathers ruffled, promising to return with Andreas and a guardsman. Ivone wasn’t ashamed of the sense of vindication she received and couldn’t wait to tell Tius about it. Time passed, though, as she continued to inventory what was and was not part of the assessment.
In the end, it turned out Tian had purchased many new things for his pretty, young wife. Ivone would have little need to replace many common household items. The rest she tagged for consignment, because she wanted to start over as her own person, instead of Tian’s doll. There was a certain glee in that, too, though she wasn’t ready to speak on that yet. Perhaps, with distance between them she could express the more raw things, the observations about herself. Or, perhaps, if she saw him at the Ball, she would tell him as they danced.
If.
She’d failed to ask him if he were attending. Ivone did not ask him to attend with her, as she felt it might be too risky for him, but true to form, she'd received a beautiful dress and slippers with a note from him.
Bloom,
I know you have consigned all but a few sensible gowns. When you go to the Ball, you will go in style. Shouldn't all beautiful blooms be surrounded in beauty?
Your friend,
Butterfly
This note went into her keepsake box. Ivone smiled at the dress. Ivone no longer needed to wear mourning colors and the dress Tiss had selected was exquisite. He must have chosen it himself. If he'd left it to someone else, the dress would not have the tactile sensuality, nor lack of adornment that she preferred. The inlay stitching at the bodice and corset ties, even the grommets for the ties, showed Tius had noticed things about her.
The Lady's maid she'd hired was especially deft and arranged her hair to fall around her face, yet expose her throat and decolletage perfectly. The sleeves of the dress sat just off her shoulders and extended down to her hands. The corseted top rounded her breasts and pushed them high, while accentuating her narrow waist. The bustle was near minimal, which suited Ivone fine. She cared little for the gigantic ones that gave a woman an unnatural silhouette, something Tius must have also observed. The length of the skirt was perfect, allowing Ivone to wear the dancing slippers that matched the dress without tripping over the skirt.
Ivone stood and surveyed herself in the mirror, content with the picture she presented. The dress was a pale, silvery blue, that accentuated her coloring without washing her out. What surprised her was the sound of the knocker on her door.
Had Melika actually returned, now?
-
Vicentius
- Citizen
- Posts: 231
- Joined: Sat Feb 01, 2014 9:47 pm
- Name: Vicentius Morrington
- Race: Human
Re: Out with the Old
He was reminded of his nickname for her when she turned to him, surprised by how apt it truly was. As his words sank in, her expression opened up like a flower, one expression at a time, shock, surprise, gratitude... He barely had time to register them all before she had crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. There was a moment's pause, and he returned it, endeavoring to keep his arms in strictly appropriate areas. Her gratitude was almost too much for him, and he felt like such a heel that it struck him speechless. She stepped back, eyes shining, and he smiled, inclining his head to her request, as though there was any doubt.
He did not follow her through the property, trusting in her instincts and judgments when it came to what she required from her own home. He heard mentions of him and Shen visiting, which was polite of her, but he would not presume to impose. He had already imposed enough. Money was such a simple, boring thing, and too many confused money with power. His father often made that mistake, but Monetario, in spite of his name, did not, which was what made him dangerous. Respect, Tius thought, and trust; those were the ultimate currency. He needed her to trust him if he was to turn this to her advantage.
Still, from where he stood, watching her, it was difficult to begrudge her the renewed energy with which she viewed the building, or how she sought to claim every inch of it as her own. There, again, was the woman who so effortlessly moved with the actors and stagehands at the theater, moving pieces too and fro to create her art, and that woman was incandescent in motion. Pieces were moving in Tius' mind too, but one large one remained stubbornly in place. There were ways of dealing with that, however, and he would at a later date.
"It is," Tius said, when she returned, "but it isn't going anywhere. I would offer an extra pair of hands to help you pack, but I've already arranged for people to help, and I would only get in the way. They will also see to cleaning and rearranging the house and grounds for Melika to occupy. I have some arrangements to make."
That was an understatement, but it would not take overly long. Holding the carriage door for her, he smiled, bowing slightly.
"I aim to please, milady," he said.
--------------------------------
Oddly enough, life went on after that, and he braced himself for an assault that never came. He did his best to keep an eye on Ivone, making sure that the movers and staff were present and that the vultures were kept away, he sent his letters and filed the proper paperwork, but his target remained silent. Melika and the Malatrast lwyer, Andreas were making noises, but he knew the officials involved, and more to the point, he knew that they didn't have the resources to raise much of a stink. Their backers had wanted to push Ivone, and they had succeeded there, she was leaving the house, had been pushed out of the theater and her footing had been shaken. With that accomplished, there was no way the enemy were going to stick their necks out for the likes of Melika.
What he did notice was increasing messages from his family, his mother in particular, inquiring about the Harvest Ball. It wasn't an usual state of affairs; at any given social event there would be any number of motherly and sisterly reminders trying to coax him into public view. It was usually code for 'allow me to introduce you to...' some other wonderful young woman he should have been interested in. It was cute, in that irritating way that only family could do, but this was different, and he sensed a different undertone to the words used. Someone was baiting a hook for him, and this time, he would happily oblige them. The Harvest Ball was the ideal time to show solidarity with Ivone.
Feeling hopeful, he decided to clear his head by focusing on something completely different for a change. Sending a brief RSVP to his mother, he'd cleared his schedule and headed to the town, in the belief that if he was going to do this, then he was going to do it properly. The dressmakers, of course, were more than happy to make time for a Morrington, and he took shameless advantage of that, sifting through materials, accessories and bric a brac to assemble something memorable for Ivone. By the end of it, he was certain he'd worn out his welcome, but money solved many problems in that regard, and after picking up a new outfit for himself, he felt refreshed enough to face things.
The night of the ball, he picked up a corsage and a buttonhole piece for himself, feeling oddly self conscious, and headed over to her home by carriage. He disliked carriages instinctively, having been of the pedestrian mindset for far too long, but they gave off the wrong impression. Still, tonight was as much about Ivone as anything else, and it was important that she arrive triumphantly. His own outfit was understated as ever, with enough touches of wealth in the material and embroidery to make waves. He trusted that she'd appreciate the small touches. Stepping up to the doors, he cleared his throat and knocked firmly.
He did not follow her through the property, trusting in her instincts and judgments when it came to what she required from her own home. He heard mentions of him and Shen visiting, which was polite of her, but he would not presume to impose. He had already imposed enough. Money was such a simple, boring thing, and too many confused money with power. His father often made that mistake, but Monetario, in spite of his name, did not, which was what made him dangerous. Respect, Tius thought, and trust; those were the ultimate currency. He needed her to trust him if he was to turn this to her advantage.
Still, from where he stood, watching her, it was difficult to begrudge her the renewed energy with which she viewed the building, or how she sought to claim every inch of it as her own. There, again, was the woman who so effortlessly moved with the actors and stagehands at the theater, moving pieces too and fro to create her art, and that woman was incandescent in motion. Pieces were moving in Tius' mind too, but one large one remained stubbornly in place. There were ways of dealing with that, however, and he would at a later date.
"It is," Tius said, when she returned, "but it isn't going anywhere. I would offer an extra pair of hands to help you pack, but I've already arranged for people to help, and I would only get in the way. They will also see to cleaning and rearranging the house and grounds for Melika to occupy. I have some arrangements to make."
That was an understatement, but it would not take overly long. Holding the carriage door for her, he smiled, bowing slightly.
"I aim to please, milady," he said.
--------------------------------
Oddly enough, life went on after that, and he braced himself for an assault that never came. He did his best to keep an eye on Ivone, making sure that the movers and staff were present and that the vultures were kept away, he sent his letters and filed the proper paperwork, but his target remained silent. Melika and the Malatrast lwyer, Andreas were making noises, but he knew the officials involved, and more to the point, he knew that they didn't have the resources to raise much of a stink. Their backers had wanted to push Ivone, and they had succeeded there, she was leaving the house, had been pushed out of the theater and her footing had been shaken. With that accomplished, there was no way the enemy were going to stick their necks out for the likes of Melika.
What he did notice was increasing messages from his family, his mother in particular, inquiring about the Harvest Ball. It wasn't an usual state of affairs; at any given social event there would be any number of motherly and sisterly reminders trying to coax him into public view. It was usually code for 'allow me to introduce you to...' some other wonderful young woman he should have been interested in. It was cute, in that irritating way that only family could do, but this was different, and he sensed a different undertone to the words used. Someone was baiting a hook for him, and this time, he would happily oblige them. The Harvest Ball was the ideal time to show solidarity with Ivone.
Feeling hopeful, he decided to clear his head by focusing on something completely different for a change. Sending a brief RSVP to his mother, he'd cleared his schedule and headed to the town, in the belief that if he was going to do this, then he was going to do it properly. The dressmakers, of course, were more than happy to make time for a Morrington, and he took shameless advantage of that, sifting through materials, accessories and bric a brac to assemble something memorable for Ivone. By the end of it, he was certain he'd worn out his welcome, but money solved many problems in that regard, and after picking up a new outfit for himself, he felt refreshed enough to face things.
The night of the ball, he picked up a corsage and a buttonhole piece for himself, feeling oddly self conscious, and headed over to her home by carriage. He disliked carriages instinctively, having been of the pedestrian mindset for far too long, but they gave off the wrong impression. Still, tonight was as much about Ivone as anything else, and it was important that she arrive triumphantly. His own outfit was understated as ever, with enough touches of wealth in the material and embroidery to make waves. He trusted that she'd appreciate the small touches. Stepping up to the doors, he cleared his throat and knocked firmly.
Re: Out with the Old
Shauna, the Lady’s assistant, was the one to open the door. Ivone had asked her to, fully intending to make Melika wait. Shauna curtsied to Tius and bid him enter, exchanging a few words of greeting and letting Tius know that Ivone was upstairs. Hearing the timbre of a man’s voice drew Ivone from her room to the top of the stairs. There were parallels to be drawn here to a moment some three year’s prior, but they paled in comparison.
The light caught in Tius’ blue eyes and in the gold of his hair. Then, oh… he did that thing he did where he looked down, bit his lip, and gave her a slow smile while lifting his gaze to hers. Ivone’s heart and stomach did a flip flop, a reaction that surprised her. She had always found Tius attractive, but this was something else completely, something she would ponder over the miles that separated them. Even as he smiled at her, she returned the smile. How could she not?
Ivone made her way down the stairs toward him, heart thumping, aware of being on display in a self-conscious sort of way, aware of his eyes on her - just as hers were on him. She had made a promise to herself after Tius had dropped her off from the house that she would not hide herself from him. Others, yes, but not him, not any more.
So, as she descended, she was also aware of the way she lit up at the sight of him, another reason to be more self-conscious. She was certain she looked completely besotted, but if she did, so be it. To try and hide that she was pleased to see him (to put it mildly) would be a mask she said she would not wear. Shauna moved to the closet to pull out a white stole and matching gloves, placing them nearby for Ivone to use.
“Thank you, Shauna. I appreciate your help on such short notice.”
“Yes, Miss.” Shauna left the pair of them alone, exiting the house to go to her next appointment.
“Tius, what a surprise!” Ivone took his free hand in hers, clasping it. How many times had she thanked him already? Did it matter? Not really.
“Thank you for your gift.” She meant it. Ivone stepped back and turned slowly so he might see the end-result of his efforts. She peered over her shoulder at him as she turned. Ivone had decided to forego jewelry, even her rings were gone. The only accessory she wore was the decorative comb he'd found to accompany the dress.
“It is beautiful and I appreciate your thinking of me. And, look at you! You look absolutely stunning, darling Butterfly, but then how could a butterfly be anything else?”
Ivone's gaze traveled over the entirety of his frame, doing what she did not let her fingers do. Her fingers itched to trace the exquisite designs on his waistcoat and feel the dark buttons that gleamed on his jacket. Though she’d decided on no masks, she did not want to be invasive. Instead, Ivone clasped her hands in front of her, a gesture Tius had probably come to realize as one she’d been trained into to keep her hands still. Her gaze dropped to the corsage and boutonniere he held in his other hand in curiosity, and back to his face. Had his mother finally wrangled him into accepting a meeting?
"Did you decide to go to the Ball after all?
The light caught in Tius’ blue eyes and in the gold of his hair. Then, oh… he did that thing he did where he looked down, bit his lip, and gave her a slow smile while lifting his gaze to hers. Ivone’s heart and stomach did a flip flop, a reaction that surprised her. She had always found Tius attractive, but this was something else completely, something she would ponder over the miles that separated them. Even as he smiled at her, she returned the smile. How could she not?
Ivone made her way down the stairs toward him, heart thumping, aware of being on display in a self-conscious sort of way, aware of his eyes on her - just as hers were on him. She had made a promise to herself after Tius had dropped her off from the house that she would not hide herself from him. Others, yes, but not him, not any more.
So, as she descended, she was also aware of the way she lit up at the sight of him, another reason to be more self-conscious. She was certain she looked completely besotted, but if she did, so be it. To try and hide that she was pleased to see him (to put it mildly) would be a mask she said she would not wear. Shauna moved to the closet to pull out a white stole and matching gloves, placing them nearby for Ivone to use.
“Thank you, Shauna. I appreciate your help on such short notice.”
“Yes, Miss.” Shauna left the pair of them alone, exiting the house to go to her next appointment.
“Tius, what a surprise!” Ivone took his free hand in hers, clasping it. How many times had she thanked him already? Did it matter? Not really.
“Thank you for your gift.” She meant it. Ivone stepped back and turned slowly so he might see the end-result of his efforts. She peered over her shoulder at him as she turned. Ivone had decided to forego jewelry, even her rings were gone. The only accessory she wore was the decorative comb he'd found to accompany the dress.
“It is beautiful and I appreciate your thinking of me. And, look at you! You look absolutely stunning, darling Butterfly, but then how could a butterfly be anything else?”
Ivone's gaze traveled over the entirety of his frame, doing what she did not let her fingers do. Her fingers itched to trace the exquisite designs on his waistcoat and feel the dark buttons that gleamed on his jacket. Though she’d decided on no masks, she did not want to be invasive. Instead, Ivone clasped her hands in front of her, a gesture Tius had probably come to realize as one she’d been trained into to keep her hands still. Her gaze dropped to the corsage and boutonniere he held in his other hand in curiosity, and back to his face. Had his mother finally wrangled him into accepting a meeting?
"Did you decide to go to the Ball after all?
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Vicentius
- Citizen
- Posts: 231
- Joined: Sat Feb 01, 2014 9:47 pm
- Name: Vicentius Morrington
- Race: Human
Re: Out with the Old
He did not have to wait long, and he inclined his head politely to Shauna, aware that the poor woman would be under pressure tonight. Good assistants were hard to come by in the city, and those that could fill in at a pinch were highly valued. Shauna was one of the better ones, and he respected talent and professionalism in people. They also tended to see and hear a great many things, which made them both very useful and extremely dangerous at the same time. Exchanging pleasantries, he asked to be shown to the foyer, and she assented, beckoning him in.
Malatrast Manor was almost exactly the picture of a noble's house in the city; cavernous, expansive and costly. It didn't look like Ivone had entertained much, even before the furniture was being carted out, which made sense given the expectations placed on a mourner by society. A bit silly, to his mind, but he supposed it was easier than having callers hanging on the bell all day. This wasn't a home built for family; even with children running too and fro and servants chasing after it would still feel empty, no, this was a house built to impress guests. If standing in your home was all that it took to impress a person, Tius felt, then perhaps they were not the people you needed to impress.
Hearing footsteps approaching, he turned from his study of a porcelain vase and turned his gaze towards the stairs. There she was, and looking, well, radiant, there was no other word for it. Slightly embarrassed by his train of thought, he glanced down and smiled, putting his thoughts in order before he made an ass of himself. When he looked up at her, she was smiling too, and some emotion lit her features as she descended to greet him. It felt, oddly, like he was seeing her anew, and he was struck again by how she seemed to blossom. Perhaps it was this new lease on life.
He kept his peace until Shauna had left, applauding lightly as she spun for him. Each was special in their own right, but together, they were something else. He wore his appreciation openly, marvelling the way the fabric and design complimented her so thoroughly. It had been a close thing, guessing her measurements, but he’d gotten lucky, luckier in fact than he had any right to be. Smiling, he swept into a bow, holding his arms out wide to give Ivone the best view of his own outfit. He could see the restraint in her motions, and in the way she held her hands, and it was adorable.
“Thank you, Bloom,” he said, laughing, “after making so many strange requests of you, it was the least I could do.”
Her glance flickered to the corsage he held, and he smiled anew, his eyes alight with sudden mischief.
“Can a butterfly not simply dance for the joy of its Bloom?”
Raising an eyebrow, he held his curious expression for a moment, before letting it fall away. Truth was the name of the game here, he knew, not teases. The openness in her manner and expression was surprising at first, and humbling thereafter, with elements of flattery thrown in for good measure. He doubted that this was a side of her that anyone saw, or rather, that anyone had seen for quite some time, and he sincerely hoped it would last. Happiness suited her.
“In truth,” he said, “I knew I was going the moment you asked for my help. Whomever is after you will make a play tonight, and I intend to give them food for thought. You did not think I would let you face it alone, did you?”
He proffered the corsage, holding the delicate blossom out where she could better see it.
“My Lady, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Ball? I can think of no-one I would rather dance with in all of Marn.”
Malatrast Manor was almost exactly the picture of a noble's house in the city; cavernous, expansive and costly. It didn't look like Ivone had entertained much, even before the furniture was being carted out, which made sense given the expectations placed on a mourner by society. A bit silly, to his mind, but he supposed it was easier than having callers hanging on the bell all day. This wasn't a home built for family; even with children running too and fro and servants chasing after it would still feel empty, no, this was a house built to impress guests. If standing in your home was all that it took to impress a person, Tius felt, then perhaps they were not the people you needed to impress.
Hearing footsteps approaching, he turned from his study of a porcelain vase and turned his gaze towards the stairs. There she was, and looking, well, radiant, there was no other word for it. Slightly embarrassed by his train of thought, he glanced down and smiled, putting his thoughts in order before he made an ass of himself. When he looked up at her, she was smiling too, and some emotion lit her features as she descended to greet him. It felt, oddly, like he was seeing her anew, and he was struck again by how she seemed to blossom. Perhaps it was this new lease on life.
He kept his peace until Shauna had left, applauding lightly as she spun for him. Each was special in their own right, but together, they were something else. He wore his appreciation openly, marvelling the way the fabric and design complimented her so thoroughly. It had been a close thing, guessing her measurements, but he’d gotten lucky, luckier in fact than he had any right to be. Smiling, he swept into a bow, holding his arms out wide to give Ivone the best view of his own outfit. He could see the restraint in her motions, and in the way she held her hands, and it was adorable.
“Thank you, Bloom,” he said, laughing, “after making so many strange requests of you, it was the least I could do.”
Her glance flickered to the corsage he held, and he smiled anew, his eyes alight with sudden mischief.
“Can a butterfly not simply dance for the joy of its Bloom?”
Raising an eyebrow, he held his curious expression for a moment, before letting it fall away. Truth was the name of the game here, he knew, not teases. The openness in her manner and expression was surprising at first, and humbling thereafter, with elements of flattery thrown in for good measure. He doubted that this was a side of her that anyone saw, or rather, that anyone had seen for quite some time, and he sincerely hoped it would last. Happiness suited her.
“In truth,” he said, “I knew I was going the moment you asked for my help. Whomever is after you will make a play tonight, and I intend to give them food for thought. You did not think I would let you face it alone, did you?”
He proffered the corsage, holding the delicate blossom out where she could better see it.
“My Lady, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Ball? I can think of no-one I would rather dance with in all of Marn.”
Re: Out with the Old
Ivone smiled again, because she couldn’t help it, though the smile dimmed when she considered things might come to a head this evening. Worry showed plainly on her face as she looked up at him.
“But that might be social suicide for you. What if they arrest me? Tius, if they interrogate me harshly I might cave and tell about the Changer’s Tears.” She pushed the worry for her own hide to worrying about him. He changed the topic, intentionally choosing not to discuss it by presenting her with the corsage. His words were gentle and sincere, causing her to blink. Her heart and tummy did that flip-flop, butterfly dance. Butterflies caused by her Butterfly. The smile returned, though it was tempered by other emotions. The strongest emotion shone in her eyes, though she didn’t dare put a word to it, as she looked up at him.
My Lady. If only…
“Nor I, my Lord. Nor I.” Ivone lifted her left hand so he might slip the corsage onto it. Then, she reached for the boutonnière and stepped close to him. The back of her hand brushed across his chest, lifting the lapel of his jacket so she could slip the single flower into the narrow slot made for such things. She smiled, smoothing her hand over the lapel to lay it flat, finally having an excuse to touch the fabric. To touch him.
“Perfect.” Ivone moved to retrieve the stole and her gloves. Drawing on the gloves, she requested his assistance without words to help again with the row of buttons. The butterflies danced again and she resisted a shiver as she felt his fingertips brush the sensitive skin of her wrist. When he placed the stole around her shoulders, she turned to face him so he might tie the ribbons and lift the hood over her head. She could have reached for him, but didn’t, but she did smile up at him.
“Shall we?”
As they took the carriage to the Ball, Ivone peered out the window at the house, watching it’s ornate façade disappear around a corner. She decided then that she wanted to spend her final night in Marn in her new home. New home. New beginnings.
When the carriage stopped at the Memorial Hall, Ivone inhaled a breath and turned to face Tius.
“Ready?”
Ivone smiled nervously, but with another breath, pulled on the mask required of her as a footman opened the door to the carriage. She extended her hand to him, following him out, and slipped her arm through his. The stole and winter coats were checked. Eyes noted their arrival together. Comments were made behind fans and cups.
Across the ballroom, a certain red-haired gentleman, stared as if disinterested, when at the top of the stair the assistant master of ceremonies made the announcement:
“Lord Vincentius Morrington and Lady Ivone Malatrast-Vyaduka.” Ivone held her head high, proud to be seen on Tius’ arm. Others were not so pleased to see her thus.
“But that might be social suicide for you. What if they arrest me? Tius, if they interrogate me harshly I might cave and tell about the Changer’s Tears.” She pushed the worry for her own hide to worrying about him. He changed the topic, intentionally choosing not to discuss it by presenting her with the corsage. His words were gentle and sincere, causing her to blink. Her heart and tummy did that flip-flop, butterfly dance. Butterflies caused by her Butterfly. The smile returned, though it was tempered by other emotions. The strongest emotion shone in her eyes, though she didn’t dare put a word to it, as she looked up at him.
My Lady. If only…
“Nor I, my Lord. Nor I.” Ivone lifted her left hand so he might slip the corsage onto it. Then, she reached for the boutonnière and stepped close to him. The back of her hand brushed across his chest, lifting the lapel of his jacket so she could slip the single flower into the narrow slot made for such things. She smiled, smoothing her hand over the lapel to lay it flat, finally having an excuse to touch the fabric. To touch him.
“Perfect.” Ivone moved to retrieve the stole and her gloves. Drawing on the gloves, she requested his assistance without words to help again with the row of buttons. The butterflies danced again and she resisted a shiver as she felt his fingertips brush the sensitive skin of her wrist. When he placed the stole around her shoulders, she turned to face him so he might tie the ribbons and lift the hood over her head. She could have reached for him, but didn’t, but she did smile up at him.
“Shall we?”
As they took the carriage to the Ball, Ivone peered out the window at the house, watching it’s ornate façade disappear around a corner. She decided then that she wanted to spend her final night in Marn in her new home. New home. New beginnings.
When the carriage stopped at the Memorial Hall, Ivone inhaled a breath and turned to face Tius.
“Ready?”
Ivone smiled nervously, but with another breath, pulled on the mask required of her as a footman opened the door to the carriage. She extended her hand to him, following him out, and slipped her arm through his. The stole and winter coats were checked. Eyes noted their arrival together. Comments were made behind fans and cups.
Across the ballroom, a certain red-haired gentleman, stared as if disinterested, when at the top of the stair the assistant master of ceremonies made the announcement:
“Lord Vincentius Morrington and Lady Ivone Malatrast-Vyaduka.” Ivone held her head high, proud to be seen on Tius’ arm. Others were not so pleased to see her thus.
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Vicentius
- Citizen
- Posts: 231
- Joined: Sat Feb 01, 2014 9:47 pm
- Name: Vicentius Morrington
- Race: Human
Re: Out with the Old
He understood her concerns, but he was not swayed by the comments of parasites. Those worth listening to would be the ones to keep their silence and wait, and those people could be talked round in due time. Any thoughts of the consequences were quickly washed away, however, by the look of sheer, tremulous joy in Ivone's eyes. There was something else there too, he thought, but it was hard to put a name to it. Was it hope? Longing?
She raised her hand, and he slipped the corsage onto her wrist gently, letting his touch linger. He thought there was a pause in her motions, or perhaps he imagined it, when she stepped forwards to place his boutonniére in his lapel. She seemed to be holding herself back, and he was incongruously reminded of her hug back at the house. Her touch was hesitant, almost savouring the sensations, as she ran her hand over the material of his coat. He raised an eyebrow at her words, sensing that there was more to them.
"Yes," he said, unable to resist, "you are."
It was corny, yes, but some things were bred in the bone, and if he couldn't compliment a beautiful woman on that night of all nights, then he was no kind of gentleman. She picked up her gloves and stole, offering them to him wordlessly, and again he felt that moment of hesitation as he moved to help her with them. He wasn't sure why, but there was an answering flutter in his own stomach, as he slowly fastened each button, just as he had before. She was watching him, eyes shining, and he reminded himself that he was helping her, that he wasn't that kind of man, and that they had a ball to go to. Still, he had to steady himself as he gently draped the stole around her shoulders, tying the ribbon while her eyes drank him in.
"After you, My Lady," he said, holding the door for her.
He thought to say something in the carriage, but she seemed pensive, so he opted for companionable silence, simply enjoying the sensation of company. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a carriage ride to an event like this, and, in fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to an event like this with company. Oh, there had been any number of offers, and the occasional threat, but he was not going to be anyone's arm candy, nor had he any interest in simply latching on to some poor woman for what she had between her thighs. It was nothing against them, in fact he was sure that they were wonderful people at heart, but he had to be true to himself.
The ride, though pleasant, was all too brief, and when the carriage rolled to a stop, he gave her an encouraging smile before climbing down and offering his hand to help her down. Eyes watched them move through the crowd, and he thought he spotted the eyes he was waiting for too, but time would tell. Checking in their coats, he squeezed Ivone's arm lightly as they waited to be announced. Bowing slightly to those assembled, he cast a careful eye over the Hall. The committee had done marvelously, he thought, proceeding to the doors, and while he saw his mother's touch in everything, she had given the Merchants' League enough prominence to inflate their egos too. The tables were tastefully, but simply, decorated, the music was an appropraite compromise between middle and upper class, and there were more titres in evidence than there had ever been before.
He noted one or two intent looks as they moved onwards into the room, specifically from women he had declined, but he did not pause to think about them. That sort of thing only slowed one down. His entire family were present, excepting the children, and he most certainly did not imagine Cisme's barely concealed grin at the sight of them. Xythen and Krycla were more circumspect, but he could tell that they were surprised, as were their respective partners. He could not see his parents, but then they likely had important socializing to attend to, which could only mean one thing. He turned, acknowledging a greeting with a nod and a smile, and there she was; Zidia Morrington, his great aunt and Monetario's hand in many ways. Her expression was neutral, but for the briefest of moments, her eyes locked with his, and then he turned back to the task at hand. His message had been received.
Aware that rather more of the Morrington clan and their allies were in evidence than normal, he turned to Ivone, ignoring the disinterested stare of one young man, and smiled.
"My Lady," he said, "I am at your disposal. What is your pleasure?"
She raised her hand, and he slipped the corsage onto her wrist gently, letting his touch linger. He thought there was a pause in her motions, or perhaps he imagined it, when she stepped forwards to place his boutonniére in his lapel. She seemed to be holding herself back, and he was incongruously reminded of her hug back at the house. Her touch was hesitant, almost savouring the sensations, as she ran her hand over the material of his coat. He raised an eyebrow at her words, sensing that there was more to them.
"Yes," he said, unable to resist, "you are."
It was corny, yes, but some things were bred in the bone, and if he couldn't compliment a beautiful woman on that night of all nights, then he was no kind of gentleman. She picked up her gloves and stole, offering them to him wordlessly, and again he felt that moment of hesitation as he moved to help her with them. He wasn't sure why, but there was an answering flutter in his own stomach, as he slowly fastened each button, just as he had before. She was watching him, eyes shining, and he reminded himself that he was helping her, that he wasn't that kind of man, and that they had a ball to go to. Still, he had to steady himself as he gently draped the stole around her shoulders, tying the ribbon while her eyes drank him in.
"After you, My Lady," he said, holding the door for her.
He thought to say something in the carriage, but she seemed pensive, so he opted for companionable silence, simply enjoying the sensation of company. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a carriage ride to an event like this, and, in fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to an event like this with company. Oh, there had been any number of offers, and the occasional threat, but he was not going to be anyone's arm candy, nor had he any interest in simply latching on to some poor woman for what she had between her thighs. It was nothing against them, in fact he was sure that they were wonderful people at heart, but he had to be true to himself.
The ride, though pleasant, was all too brief, and when the carriage rolled to a stop, he gave her an encouraging smile before climbing down and offering his hand to help her down. Eyes watched them move through the crowd, and he thought he spotted the eyes he was waiting for too, but time would tell. Checking in their coats, he squeezed Ivone's arm lightly as they waited to be announced. Bowing slightly to those assembled, he cast a careful eye over the Hall. The committee had done marvelously, he thought, proceeding to the doors, and while he saw his mother's touch in everything, she had given the Merchants' League enough prominence to inflate their egos too. The tables were tastefully, but simply, decorated, the music was an appropraite compromise between middle and upper class, and there were more titres in evidence than there had ever been before.
He noted one or two intent looks as they moved onwards into the room, specifically from women he had declined, but he did not pause to think about them. That sort of thing only slowed one down. His entire family were present, excepting the children, and he most certainly did not imagine Cisme's barely concealed grin at the sight of them. Xythen and Krycla were more circumspect, but he could tell that they were surprised, as were their respective partners. He could not see his parents, but then they likely had important socializing to attend to, which could only mean one thing. He turned, acknowledging a greeting with a nod and a smile, and there she was; Zidia Morrington, his great aunt and Monetario's hand in many ways. Her expression was neutral, but for the briefest of moments, her eyes locked with his, and then he turned back to the task at hand. His message had been received.
Aware that rather more of the Morrington clan and their allies were in evidence than normal, he turned to Ivone, ignoring the disinterested stare of one young man, and smiled.
"My Lady," he said, "I am at your disposal. What is your pleasure?"
Re: Out with the Old
The “young man” in question was Aurelio, who turned to Sparrow as she said something to him from behind her fan. A disdainful smile curved his lips. He was ever thus. Ivone made it a point not to look at the man. He was a consummate manipulator who knew her weaknesses. Like any addict, it was too soon to say she was free, yet, though resisting him would be easier. Especially now. Ivone resisted the urge to look at Tius with anything other than social appropriateness. It would not do to show that particular weakness, here.
Her pleasure? Ivone smiled politely as she looked over the crowd, as was expected of her, before turning her attention back to him.
“Tonight, I suppose champagne and dancing will have to do.” A loaded reply, flirtatious for the occasion, but laced with truth.
With that, she inclined her head toward the dance floor where people were already lining up for the first of many set dances, and led the way. Tius would be able to tell she was wearing her mask of ‘awareness.’ The pair of them were on display. Ivone wondered briefly who would approach her. She did not doubt Tius’ assessment that it would happen. She just wondered when the “when” would be. As the first strains began, Ivone bowed, then moved toward Tius, circling around him. Let the polite dancing conversation begin:
“The hall is decorated very well, don’t you think?”
Her pleasure? Ivone smiled politely as she looked over the crowd, as was expected of her, before turning her attention back to him.
“Tonight, I suppose champagne and dancing will have to do.” A loaded reply, flirtatious for the occasion, but laced with truth.
With that, she inclined her head toward the dance floor where people were already lining up for the first of many set dances, and led the way. Tius would be able to tell she was wearing her mask of ‘awareness.’ The pair of them were on display. Ivone wondered briefly who would approach her. She did not doubt Tius’ assessment that it would happen. She just wondered when the “when” would be. As the first strains began, Ivone bowed, then moved toward Tius, circling around him. Let the polite dancing conversation begin:
“The hall is decorated very well, don’t you think?”
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Vicentius
- Citizen
- Posts: 231
- Joined: Sat Feb 01, 2014 9:47 pm
- Name: Vicentius Morrington
- Race: Human
Re: Out with the Old
He smiled his most charming smile, bowing slightly at the waist.
"Then I shall oblige, My Lady," he said, taking her hand, "but what more could a simple city boy give the woman who has everything?"
The mask was back, for both of them, and he could feel a slight tension in her hand as they crossed to the dance floor. It was understandable, given what they had to worry about, and given the eyes on them, but he was also determined to have fun. So, when they took their place among the other dancers, there was a spark of mischief in his eye. The music started, building through the opening strains, and he moved with her, circling slowly, and smiled.
"It is," he said, stepping with her, "they have outdone themselves once again."
It was true, and while the Gala had been a gaudy affair in the extreme, the committee always managed to nail their chosen theme, and he did not envy them the task. While the merchants and the outsiders strutted, lapping up the praise for the event, those that had made it happen would quietly sip their drinks and wait for the favours to come good. He turned, the tide of the music pulling him closer to her, and over her shoulder, he spotted Sparrow looking at him. He drew some small satisfaction from the way she looked away when his gaze swept over her. Ah, he thought, the memories....
"But nothing they could make comes close to you, My lady," he said, without a trace of shame.
The music picked up to its proper pace, and he hit his stride smoothly, stepping and turning effortlessly. He forced himself to forget the intrigues for the moment, and savoured the feeling of motion, and suddenly he was aware of another presence, watching him. Each turn revealed nothing unusual, then, in a flash of immaculately tailored coat and gold silk, his parents were there, moving through the turns with the same ease. There was no question of whether other dancers would yield ground to them; they simply danced, and everyone else could either make space or suffer. He smiled, moving into the next turn, and returned his attention to Ivone.
"It seems we have competition."
"Then I shall oblige, My Lady," he said, taking her hand, "but what more could a simple city boy give the woman who has everything?"
The mask was back, for both of them, and he could feel a slight tension in her hand as they crossed to the dance floor. It was understandable, given what they had to worry about, and given the eyes on them, but he was also determined to have fun. So, when they took their place among the other dancers, there was a spark of mischief in his eye. The music started, building through the opening strains, and he moved with her, circling slowly, and smiled.
"It is," he said, stepping with her, "they have outdone themselves once again."
It was true, and while the Gala had been a gaudy affair in the extreme, the committee always managed to nail their chosen theme, and he did not envy them the task. While the merchants and the outsiders strutted, lapping up the praise for the event, those that had made it happen would quietly sip their drinks and wait for the favours to come good. He turned, the tide of the music pulling him closer to her, and over her shoulder, he spotted Sparrow looking at him. He drew some small satisfaction from the way she looked away when his gaze swept over her. Ah, he thought, the memories....
"But nothing they could make comes close to you, My lady," he said, without a trace of shame.
The music picked up to its proper pace, and he hit his stride smoothly, stepping and turning effortlessly. He forced himself to forget the intrigues for the moment, and savoured the feeling of motion, and suddenly he was aware of another presence, watching him. Each turn revealed nothing unusual, then, in a flash of immaculately tailored coat and gold silk, his parents were there, moving through the turns with the same ease. There was no question of whether other dancers would yield ground to them; they simply danced, and everyone else could either make space or suffer. He smiled, moving into the next turn, and returned his attention to Ivone.
"It seems we have competition."
Re: Out with the Old
At his responding flirt, Ivone responded with a murmur.
"Hmm, I wonder."
They locked hands, side-by-side, but front-to-front, executing another turn. Ivone wondered who had caught Tius' eye, but the challenges of being not particularly tall meant she couldn't see well. Until... the crowd parted for a moment.
"Goodness, Mr. Morrington, is it possible the Bird and the Butterfly had a liaison?" Tius' gaze landed on hers and held it, offering her a compliment. That awareness fluttered in her belly again.
"You are too kind, My Lord." Ivone kept her gaze on Tius. He was the only thing in the room worth looking at. Ivone's brows rose, though her gaze did not waver.
"Oh?" And, when they turned, Raemes Morrington was staring at her with a smile that was equal parts polite and not so nice. Ivone smiled back and inclined her head. Raemes had warned her away from Tius and she had chosen to defy him. And now here they were, she and Tius, dancing together despite Sythra's designs to have Tius accompany another.
Ivone released Tius' hands and moved forward and to the right, leaving her partnered with Raemes.
"Mr. Morrington, you look splendid this evening."
"Hmm, I wonder."
They locked hands, side-by-side, but front-to-front, executing another turn. Ivone wondered who had caught Tius' eye, but the challenges of being not particularly tall meant she couldn't see well. Until... the crowd parted for a moment.
"Goodness, Mr. Morrington, is it possible the Bird and the Butterfly had a liaison?" Tius' gaze landed on hers and held it, offering her a compliment. That awareness fluttered in her belly again.
"You are too kind, My Lord." Ivone kept her gaze on Tius. He was the only thing in the room worth looking at. Ivone's brows rose, though her gaze did not waver.
"Oh?" And, when they turned, Raemes Morrington was staring at her with a smile that was equal parts polite and not so nice. Ivone smiled back and inclined her head. Raemes had warned her away from Tius and she had chosen to defy him. And now here they were, she and Tius, dancing together despite Sythra's designs to have Tius accompany another.
Ivone released Tius' hands and moved forward and to the right, leaving her partnered with Raemes.
"Mr. Morrington, you look splendid this evening."
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Vicentius
- Citizen
- Posts: 231
- Joined: Sat Feb 01, 2014 9:47 pm
- Name: Vicentius Morrington
- Race: Human
Re: Out with the Old
"Perish the thought," Tius said, moving closer to her, "the Bird may have propositioned the Butterfly and been mercilessly shot down, but no more."
That was something of an understatement, now that he thought about it, but he had never approved of his family trying to trot him around like a prize horse. He was certain that they had thought differently of it, they almost certainly would have worded it differently, but it boiled down to trying to cover up the shame of his presence with a convenient marriage. Sparrow, of course, had been nothing if not eager to get the Morrington name, and he had been anything but interested, much to his parents' disdain. It was a moot point really; anyone he would have considered interesting were far too controversial for their tastes and anyone they approved of would have spent every waking moment despising him. Smiling a little at the thought in spite of himself, he released Ivone into the wilds and seamlessly stepped in with his mother.
"Mother," he said, "you've outdone yourself."
"As have you," she said, levelly, "but at least you dressed appropriately."
He heard the sigh in her voice and knew he had won, but he still managed to look politely flattered at her assertion, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement. The music swelled again, and they turned, moving smoothly as they always did, he was aware of more eyes on them, and he maintained his smile, chuckling as though his mother had said something hilarious.
"You make it sound like I ever have."
---------------
Raemes held his smile, held her gaze, and smoothly moved into step. There were no hints for a casual observer to note, but there was a directness to his stance and movements that seemed entirely at odds with how fluidly he stepped. Tius had not been exaggerating when he'd spoken of his father's talents as a dancer.
"As do you, Miss Malatrast," he said, "quite the picture. You have excellent taste."
This was said without a trace of sarcasm, so much so that it might have been a genuine compliment, but the cast of his eyes said otherwise. He turned with her, keeping his hands in appropriate places at all times. He smiled a little wider, eyes cold, as Tius and Sythra swept past his view.
"Although I suppose time in the right company can work wonders too, can it not?"
The music swelled again, and he stepped and turned with nary a missed beat, never once taking his eyes off of her. It was an amazing trick, and one which only he seemed to have mastered, that of being so close to someone while maintaining a thoroughly uninhabitable distance in the remaining space. He didn't seem like a man who ever forgot about that.
"I was saddened to hear that your dear sister couldn't come," he said, pleasantly, "Sythra was distraught."
That was something of an understatement, now that he thought about it, but he had never approved of his family trying to trot him around like a prize horse. He was certain that they had thought differently of it, they almost certainly would have worded it differently, but it boiled down to trying to cover up the shame of his presence with a convenient marriage. Sparrow, of course, had been nothing if not eager to get the Morrington name, and he had been anything but interested, much to his parents' disdain. It was a moot point really; anyone he would have considered interesting were far too controversial for their tastes and anyone they approved of would have spent every waking moment despising him. Smiling a little at the thought in spite of himself, he released Ivone into the wilds and seamlessly stepped in with his mother.
"Mother," he said, "you've outdone yourself."
"As have you," she said, levelly, "but at least you dressed appropriately."
He heard the sigh in her voice and knew he had won, but he still managed to look politely flattered at her assertion, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement. The music swelled again, and they turned, moving smoothly as they always did, he was aware of more eyes on them, and he maintained his smile, chuckling as though his mother had said something hilarious.
"You make it sound like I ever have."
---------------
Raemes held his smile, held her gaze, and smoothly moved into step. There were no hints for a casual observer to note, but there was a directness to his stance and movements that seemed entirely at odds with how fluidly he stepped. Tius had not been exaggerating when he'd spoken of his father's talents as a dancer.
"As do you, Miss Malatrast," he said, "quite the picture. You have excellent taste."
This was said without a trace of sarcasm, so much so that it might have been a genuine compliment, but the cast of his eyes said otherwise. He turned with her, keeping his hands in appropriate places at all times. He smiled a little wider, eyes cold, as Tius and Sythra swept past his view.
"Although I suppose time in the right company can work wonders too, can it not?"
The music swelled again, and he stepped and turned with nary a missed beat, never once taking his eyes off of her. It was an amazing trick, and one which only he seemed to have mastered, that of being so close to someone while maintaining a thoroughly uninhabitable distance in the remaining space. He didn't seem like a man who ever forgot about that.
"I was saddened to hear that your dear sister couldn't come," he said, pleasantly, "Sythra was distraught."
Re: Out with the Old
Ivone waited for the barb, knowing it was coming and feeling strangely inured to it. Tius had made a point to be with her and not through her engineering. Ivone smiled up at Raemes, sweetly.
"Ah, do you like it? It was a surprise gift from Tius."
Ivone laughed lightly.
"Mr. Morrington! You say the most scandalous things!" Ivone smirked and gave him a knowing look. She said that loud enough that others nearby wondered what he might have said to the young woman accompanying his son. Ivone blinked, looking completely innocent.
"My sister? Mr. Morrington, don't you know I am only child?" And, that was true. Ivone was the only child produced by her mother and father. Though, perhaps he meant Melika, Tius' sister, who was of age with Raemes and Sythra, and already married.
"Or do you mean Tian's sister, Melika? Oh, yes, she has been quite busy."
"Ah, do you like it? It was a surprise gift from Tius."
Ivone laughed lightly.
"Mr. Morrington! You say the most scandalous things!" Ivone smirked and gave him a knowing look. She said that loud enough that others nearby wondered what he might have said to the young woman accompanying his son. Ivone blinked, looking completely innocent.
"My sister? Mr. Morrington, don't you know I am only child?" And, that was true. Ivone was the only child produced by her mother and father. Though, perhaps he meant Melika, Tius' sister, who was of age with Raemes and Sythra, and already married.
"Or do you mean Tian's sister, Melika? Oh, yes, she has been quite busy."
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Vicentius
- Citizen
- Posts: 231
- Joined: Sat Feb 01, 2014 9:47 pm
- Name: Vicentius Morrington
- Race: Human
Re: Out with the Old
"Was it?"
Raemes looked at her in apparent surprise, his gaze traveling down for the barest flicker to take in her outfit, though his smile never wavered.
"My son must have paid close attention," he said, "to anticipate your desires so keenly. Would that he was so attentive to our lessons."
The music dipped and swelled, and he spun her, laughing openly at her comment, his motions suddenly more flamboyent as they turned and dipped with the music.
"One of my many faults," he said, smiling, "but one could never accuse me of overstepping."
He shook his head ruefully at her response, his steps sure.
"Of course," he said, "my apologies. One forgets that you have so little family."
The spun again, and he raised an eyebrow.
"She has such high hopes for her son, I am told," he said, "one wishes her luck."
Raemes looked at her in apparent surprise, his gaze traveling down for the barest flicker to take in her outfit, though his smile never wavered.
"My son must have paid close attention," he said, "to anticipate your desires so keenly. Would that he was so attentive to our lessons."
The music dipped and swelled, and he spun her, laughing openly at her comment, his motions suddenly more flamboyent as they turned and dipped with the music.
"One of my many faults," he said, smiling, "but one could never accuse me of overstepping."
He shook his head ruefully at her response, his steps sure.
"Of course," he said, "my apologies. One forgets that you have so little family."
The spun again, and he raised an eyebrow.
"She has such high hopes for her son, I am told," he said, "one wishes her luck."
Re: Out with the Old
"I had no idea he knew my measurements so well." An implication of intimacies, though they'd never been intimate. Not, that Raemes knew that. "He must get his excellent eye from you." The next barb was intended to cut, but surprisingly didn't. Her lack of family, children, is why she had lost her house. Instead, Ivone smiled like the doting auntie she was supposed to be at his next comment.
"Georgie is getting married. He should have a house of his own instead of living under his mother's wing. I'm glad Tian's house will be put to good use. It was much too big for just me and Tius has arranged a more suitable place for me." Dig, dig, dig. Plans for sons indeed. The implication here was that Tius was setting up house with her, though that was far from the truth.
Ivone found it surprising that Raemes paid her so much attention. If he were truly trying to make it a point that she were not good enough for his son, he should have snubbed her completely. "Your son is truly remarkable, Mr. Morrington. You should be proud that he is so like you, yet is also his own man."
"Georgie is getting married. He should have a house of his own instead of living under his mother's wing. I'm glad Tian's house will be put to good use. It was much too big for just me and Tius has arranged a more suitable place for me." Dig, dig, dig. Plans for sons indeed. The implication here was that Tius was setting up house with her, though that was far from the truth.
Ivone found it surprising that Raemes paid her so much attention. If he were truly trying to make it a point that she were not good enough for his son, he should have snubbed her completely. "Your son is truly remarkable, Mr. Morrington. You should be proud that he is so like you, yet is also his own man."
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Vicentius
- Citizen
- Posts: 231
- Joined: Sat Feb 01, 2014 9:47 pm
- Name: Vicentius Morrington
- Race: Human
Re: Out with the Old
"If he had my eyes, Miss Malatrast," he said, "he would have had no trouble seeing what was before him."
He smiled amicably at her comments.
"One hopes dear George will treat his bride to be better than Vicentius treated his last prospect," he said, "and how generous of him to be so attentive in your time of need."
They turned again, in time with the music, and Raemes looked up, aware that their time together was growing short. At Ivone's words, he turned his attention back to her, his smile suddenly a lot more sincere, and somehow more worrying.
"I am proud of all my children," he said, "even when they disappoint me, and they so frequently do."
His posture seemed to change somehow as he spoke, and in those moments, he seemed more like Tius than ever before, which was ironic, given the implications of what he was saying. Typically, the irony of that did not occur to him.
"Our family has always stood for independent enterprise, and while I thoroughly applaud his business acumen, I have never understood my son's fondness for strays. This dalliance. Will. End."
The music changed, and he released Ivone's hands to smoothly return to Sythra, while Tius stepped smoothly back into position, looking strangely pleased with himself.
"Was that as unpleasant as the dance I just enjoyed?"
He smiled amicably at her comments.
"One hopes dear George will treat his bride to be better than Vicentius treated his last prospect," he said, "and how generous of him to be so attentive in your time of need."
They turned again, in time with the music, and Raemes looked up, aware that their time together was growing short. At Ivone's words, he turned his attention back to her, his smile suddenly a lot more sincere, and somehow more worrying.
"I am proud of all my children," he said, "even when they disappoint me, and they so frequently do."
His posture seemed to change somehow as he spoke, and in those moments, he seemed more like Tius than ever before, which was ironic, given the implications of what he was saying. Typically, the irony of that did not occur to him.
"Our family has always stood for independent enterprise, and while I thoroughly applaud his business acumen, I have never understood my son's fondness for strays. This dalliance. Will. End."
The music changed, and he released Ivone's hands to smoothly return to Sythra, while Tius stepped smoothly back into position, looking strangely pleased with himself.
"Was that as unpleasant as the dance I just enjoyed?"