Post by Sylvestre de Valmont(D) on Apr 17, 2006 12:21:42 GMT -5
I had been sprawled on the windowseat, drifting in and out of consciousness and in and out of various pleasant hallucinations and dreamscapes for minutes or hours or days or possibly even lifetimes when the door opened and, as if from a great distance, the blurry-edged ever-repellent figure of Betta informed me that I had a visitor.
And then I let myself drift again into soft swirling shapes and murmuring voices, dreams or visions or memories or….
And then came the bite of cold water, breaking over the dreaminess to saturate it with the harsh sting of awareness. The room came abruptly into focus, cold and sharp and real.
And then something that felt like someone shaking me vigorously.
And then something that was definitely someone slapping me in the face.
And then the water again.
“Stop that,” I spluttered. “I’m here, I’m awake, what do you want.” My words tangled themselves into silver snakes.
A voice: “Is he saying something?”
A second voice: “I’m not sure.”
The first voice: “Hit him again.”
I made more effort this time to register my displeasure: “Ow!”
“He’s definitely awake.”
I forced myself to focus. The room swam back into view. It was bedroom. And there were two people standing over me. One of them was Betta. Urgh. And the other. Deep, familiar brown eyes currently fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust reflected in their depths.
“I’m definitely awake,” I said, hastily. “Why am I all wet?”
“Because I emptied three buckets of water over you,” replied Claribel.
“How charming of you,” I said, blinking at her. “To what do owe the pleasure of this drenching?”
She giggled, some of the sternness lifting from her features making her look much less like her father. Thank the Gods. “I came to say Happy Birthday.”
“Couldn’t you just have given me a cake or something?”
“In that state, you probably wouldn’t know what cake was. Betta says you’ve been in an opium dream for nearly four days now.”
“Well, it’s better than this place,” I mumbled.
Claribel dropped a towel over my sodden shoulders and Betta handed me a mug of steaming coffee. They stood around me like soldiers while I drank.
“You’re a complete mess, Uncle Sly,” said Claribel, hands on her hips. “If Betta brought you some water and a razor do you think you could shave?”
I held out a hand in front of her. It trembled.
She gave me a withering look. I shrugged. And then stamped her foot. “Couldn’t you have made any effort at all,” she cried. “I wrote to you to tell you I was going to come and look at you. Just look at you. It’s vile. You’re vile.”
To my horror, her eyes had filled up with tears.
“Clary,” I said soothingly.
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, dashing the tears away with the back of her hand. “Only my father calls me that.”
There was a long silence.
“I am glad to see you,” I muttered, eventually. “Truly I am. I just lost track of the time. I’m always trying to lose time. Look. You’re embarrassing me. Do I have to keep grovelling?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Betta,” I said. “Go and bring me some warm water, a cloth and a razor. I don’t need an audience for this.” She dragged reluctantly from the room.
“There, I’m going to risk a slit throat for you. How’s that.”
Claribel tossed her head, her ringlets dancing. “Not good enough.”
I staggered upright, went over to where she was standing and, taking one of her hands in mine, went solemnly down on one knee. “My Lady Claribel, my life is a pit of tedium and despair. I am aweary of this moated grange and I wish that I were dead. Your letters and your increasingly beautiful face are the only sparks of brightness in the eternal darkness of my heart.”
She smiled. “And your absinthe and your drugs and your wine and your peasant girls and boys.”
“And those, yes,” I agreed. “They help a little.”
She stared down at me, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Are you ever sincere, Uncle Sly?”
I pressed my lips to her fingertips. “Not if I can help it. But if I am, that’s for you to decide.”
She laughed. “I don’t believe a word you say but you grovel divinely so I’ll forgive you.”
I grinned at her. “Thank you, my lady. You know, when you’re a woman grown, I fear you’ll break my heart.”
She gave me an arch, gloriously youthful look. “I intend to break the hearts of many.”
And then I let myself drift again into soft swirling shapes and murmuring voices, dreams or visions or memories or….
And then came the bite of cold water, breaking over the dreaminess to saturate it with the harsh sting of awareness. The room came abruptly into focus, cold and sharp and real.
And then something that felt like someone shaking me vigorously.
And then something that was definitely someone slapping me in the face.
And then the water again.
“Stop that,” I spluttered. “I’m here, I’m awake, what do you want.” My words tangled themselves into silver snakes.
A voice: “Is he saying something?”
A second voice: “I’m not sure.”
The first voice: “Hit him again.”
I made more effort this time to register my displeasure: “Ow!”
“He’s definitely awake.”
I forced myself to focus. The room swam back into view. It was bedroom. And there were two people standing over me. One of them was Betta. Urgh. And the other. Deep, familiar brown eyes currently fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust reflected in their depths.
“I’m definitely awake,” I said, hastily. “Why am I all wet?”
“Because I emptied three buckets of water over you,” replied Claribel.
“How charming of you,” I said, blinking at her. “To what do owe the pleasure of this drenching?”
She giggled, some of the sternness lifting from her features making her look much less like her father. Thank the Gods. “I came to say Happy Birthday.”
“Couldn’t you just have given me a cake or something?”
“In that state, you probably wouldn’t know what cake was. Betta says you’ve been in an opium dream for nearly four days now.”
“Well, it’s better than this place,” I mumbled.
Claribel dropped a towel over my sodden shoulders and Betta handed me a mug of steaming coffee. They stood around me like soldiers while I drank.
“You’re a complete mess, Uncle Sly,” said Claribel, hands on her hips. “If Betta brought you some water and a razor do you think you could shave?”
I held out a hand in front of her. It trembled.
She gave me a withering look. I shrugged. And then stamped her foot. “Couldn’t you have made any effort at all,” she cried. “I wrote to you to tell you I was going to come and look at you. Just look at you. It’s vile. You’re vile.”
To my horror, her eyes had filled up with tears.
“Clary,” I said soothingly.
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, dashing the tears away with the back of her hand. “Only my father calls me that.”
There was a long silence.
“I am glad to see you,” I muttered, eventually. “Truly I am. I just lost track of the time. I’m always trying to lose time. Look. You’re embarrassing me. Do I have to keep grovelling?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Betta,” I said. “Go and bring me some warm water, a cloth and a razor. I don’t need an audience for this.” She dragged reluctantly from the room.
“There, I’m going to risk a slit throat for you. How’s that.”
Claribel tossed her head, her ringlets dancing. “Not good enough.”
I staggered upright, went over to where she was standing and, taking one of her hands in mine, went solemnly down on one knee. “My Lady Claribel, my life is a pit of tedium and despair. I am aweary of this moated grange and I wish that I were dead. Your letters and your increasingly beautiful face are the only sparks of brightness in the eternal darkness of my heart.”
She smiled. “And your absinthe and your drugs and your wine and your peasant girls and boys.”
“And those, yes,” I agreed. “They help a little.”
She stared down at me, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Are you ever sincere, Uncle Sly?”
I pressed my lips to her fingertips. “Not if I can help it. But if I am, that’s for you to decide.”
She laughed. “I don’t believe a word you say but you grovel divinely so I’ll forgive you.”
I grinned at her. “Thank you, my lady. You know, when you’re a woman grown, I fear you’ll break my heart.”
She gave me an arch, gloriously youthful look. “I intend to break the hearts of many.”