Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Jul 25, 2011 9:43:22 GMT -5
Ever since I'd given that bottle over to Jean-Baptiste I couldn't seem to keep myself still for very long, but at the same time I didn't want to be around too many people. It was almost as though what I'd done, what I was afraid of, was a taint that could spread to my friends and family if I got too close, and I had to bear this on my own. Before I would have trusted those closest to me with anything and I knew that if I did that now they would help me, support me, at least offer a hand of sympathy or concern or comfort and maybe dry my tears. But I was too afraid, too confused and too angry with sorrow to let them near me lest I say something that would give it all away.
And honestly, lest someone get the idea that I was hiding this because I was a part of it. Who would understand any of my concerns? Murderers weren't people you wanted to defend. Even if your own sister might have been one.
I'd gone out riding today, early enough in the morning that there would be few people to bump into, and I think Bambino appreciated the exercise at least. It wasn't until about noon that I came back and handed my reins to one of the stable-boys with a bit less-forced smile than I usually had to work for these days, and walked toward the front door.
From a distance I saw the paper pinned to it and I watched it for a moment, breathing completely halted. What was it? News from the front, from my family, my mother and father in La Serenissima, the Palace, something else? Please let everything be alright. I took the last few steps at a run, picking my my skirts as I went, and when I finally got there I looked at the typecast words curiously while I took out the pin to pull the paper away. La Voix? What was this? I'd never heard of it before...
Opening the door and completely consumed by curiosity I stepped inside and started to read.
What I saw was shocking and I paced as I continued to read. Me. This was about me, and it was angry, and bitter, and sarcastic on top of that. A lump rose in my throat, one made of all of the things I'd been repressing and some answering anger besides.
More though, I was ashamed. Was that what I'd been doing, playing at peace to forget the war? Disgracing the dead? Wasting money that was better put to helping others? My pride wanted to scream 'no, I did good!' and my fingers shook where I gripped the paper as though it was some horrible cursed mirror I couldn't let go of. Because somewhere inside I knew that some of the answer was yes. I wanted to have fun and smile and laugh and make something good of all of the sorrow, to be frivolous and remember good things, as well as to see others doing the same. Seeing others happy made me happy, so I'd taken the path of least resistance to make sure that possible. I may have been naive in my selfishness, and gracious and well-meaning in it, but it was still selfish.
The more I read the more I had to keep reading and feel every blow on my spirit. Finally I brought one hand to my cheek to brush away tears that I was only half-aware of. All that kept me from sobbing outright was the fact that I would have worried someone and the memory of the smiles I'd seen at that fete, that I had made some people happy. That meant it wasn't all bad- didn't it?
Finally I simply couldn't read any more and went to my room. Maybe I didn't know anything at all.
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Jul 30, 2011 12:36:16 GMT -5
The latest issue of La Voix had been written, and printed, in a frenzy of disorder – all of it internal to me. Even Mauvoisin had noticed, stopping his demands for me to produce a rhyme for “pulchritude” to ask instead what was the matter with me. I'd answered 'nothing', because 'everything' seemed simultaneously too unhelpful and too honest. I couldn't stop thinking about that damnable doxy, or the infuriating kindness of my cousin, and between them the two women haunted my thoughts like my own private Eumenides, making me question every cursed thing I wrote, or thought, or did.
I'd completed the first draft speedily enough but I kept returning to it – like it was a scab I couldn't stop picking at. I felt as though partiality bled through every line. Was this really all it took to break my resolve, a few smiles from a sky-eyed blonde? Some revolutionary, some fucking revolutionary. Elua, I was even talking like the whore. I wrote, and re-wrote, pushing myself to the darkest places I could find, each draft a little harsher, a little more personal, than the last. Contempt would be my ink. I had to prove I could do it. For my own sake. There is no room in what I do for human weakness. The fact there was a part of me that wanted to like Noemi meant I had to treat her exactly as I did everyone else. No. I had to treat her worse. Nobody could be safe. Nobody. She was, after all, part of the very system I was working to overthrow. I had to remember that. Not her smiling mouth.
“Yeesh,” said Mauvoisin when I was finished. “Isn't she, like, twelve? Are you seriously picking on a kid having a party?”
“She's seventeen,” I snapped. Felicien suffered headaches fairly regularly so I could escape him, but I could feel the storm of very real indisposition gathering behind my eyes. “Old enough to know better. Old enough to take responsibility for where she spends her fortune. Old enough to damn well look at the world and think about it.”
“Yeah but …”
“Print it.”
“There must be a better target...somebody less … come on, having fun isn't a crime against humanity.”
“I said print it,” I growled. “For the last time. What's wrong with you?”
First bathhouse harlots and now my own companions? Was everybody going to question me about everything now?
He threw up his hands. “I'm printing it. Don't get your pigtail in a twist.”
Mocking my hair now. Great.
I staggered back to Noemi's townhouse, and missed the print run entirely because I was bedbound for three days with a headache so severe it felt like my brain was being repeatedly struck my lightning. And Mr Woofles yapped so relentlessly I almost strangled him.
When I next left my room it was because Fouinon had given up on tending to me – and 'tending' by his definition involves standing over him, asking loudly if I'm feeling any better yet – and I was desperate for food and water. Thankfully I was mostly well again, although not quite up to a full Felicien. I managed a garish coat, and a waistcoat that clashed with it, but everything else was plain. Even the idea of fiddling on for hours with power, and jewels and ribbons was almost enough to bring on another headache.
I was just going to sneak down to the kitchens, nobody was going to see me except the servants and they all probably thought I was mad anyway. And in a worst case scenario I could hide behind Felicien's hair and pretend I was an ornamental yeti.
I crept out into the hallway and was speeding happily down the stairs when Noemi pushed past me, in a state of obvious distress. It was so very much the last thing I had ever expected to encounter that I forgot, momentarily, that I was Felicien.
“Noemi?” I said.
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Jul 31, 2011 15:07:49 GMT -5
As I'd headed through the house I'd done my best to keep my head down and be as quiet as possible, but I was never very good at hiding things, at least not without completely giving myself away. That was one reason I was glad I hadn't been born first, besides the fact that I wouldn't have my older sister and brother- I just wouldn't be any good at courtly behavior unless I was sincere in it. Luckily that hadn't ever really been required of me and I'd been left to my own devices, playing at whatever made me happy.
But maybe that was why this paper had been written in the first place, and why I'd never guessed what was going on with Victoire. I just didn't have that sort of mind.
All of that aside I scooted by someone walking on the stairs, my gaze pointed more at the floor than around me and trying to muffle the quick breathing of my crying, but the voice addressing me made me stop suddenly. My guest Felicien, that's who it was. I hadn't seen him much at all or heard anything from the servants since he'd arrived so the fact that I could have run into him had slipped my mind. That was likely another sign of me being selfish, and as much as I wanted to run to my room- well, wasn't that what a spoiled child would do, try to escape?
Maybe it was just in my own house but I didn't want someone else to think I was only a bratty, irresponsible, cowardly girl.
Nevertheless he'd surprised me and I turned around to face him, using my free hand that wasn't still wrapped around the paper to wipe my eyes as quickly as I could and giving him the best smile I could manage. After all what could he know about this? Better not to worry him. "Hello again Felicien," I said in a moderately steady tone, or at least that was how it sounded to me. "Forgive me for not seeing you sooner, I really am sorry. I just wasn't really thinking about where I was going and that was rude of me. And probably pretty clumsy." I laughed a bit at the last and forced myself to take a deep breath, wondering if he would even notice that I was upset or not. He did seem to be a bit lost within his own thoughts at times.
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Jul 31, 2011 15:58:33 GMT -5
Oh no.
If only I'd been five minutes later.
Or if only I'd taken the trouble to make myself more fully Felicien, then maybe I'd have been less stupid.
I could have bumbled past her and pretended to have been too self-absorbed to notice her.
But it was too late, now. I'd seen her, and the tear stains on her cheeks, and the horrifyingly familiar paper in her hand. How had she got it, anyway? Did she often descend to the gutters of Night's Doorstep? And then I remembered: at the zenith, or perhaps I mean nadir, of my headache, when the world had been reduced to sparking lights and pulsating pain, I had insisted to Mauvoisin that we would pin this to her door so she'd have to face it. He'd protested and I'd turned on him, screaming like a maniac.
Oh no.
I knew it was necessary. I didn't quite expect to hate myself for it. More, that is, than I already do. I'm a master of self-loathing and yet a new variation, a new thread in the tapestry of shame, still has the power to take me by surprise. And then I'm the Felicien of my youth all over again, at my father's mercy and incapable of helping the woman I professed to love.
“La, Nomnom,” I twittered, pulling my own construction of Felicien around me like a tattered cloak. “Don't apologise. Mr Woofles is the clumsiest person I know. Couldn't cross a desert without knocking something over, silly thing!”
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 1, 2011 11:09:36 GMT -5
It took him less than a minute to go back to calling me by his nickname he'd chosen for me, but the fact that he'd known my whole name to begin with was nice. Sometimes I wondered if I was a character to him, someone meant to fit into the part of the girl owning the house in his own private story of the world, but then didn't everyone have their own way of seeing life and everything in it? Even I did, and that had made me naive and silly, unaware to the things like what I'd read, able to forget that the world went beyond my own vision of it. Likely his was far more innocent, and there was no crime in that at all.
That, on top of what I'd done with the haunting bottle I'd found amongst my sister's perfumes, made me guilty about my own idealism. Was it selfish to hope, to try for happiness and hope that more would come from someone offering it to the world?
Shaking my thoughts from my I brought a hand up to tuck some hair behind my ears and did my best not to sniffle, hoping that the red on my cheeks would fade as I smiled while my guest talked about his dogs. Animals, they were a safe topic, weren't they? "Yes, but Mr. Woofles is small and couldn't knock someone over the side the way a careless princess might. I was thinking on something is all, and it took up my mind completely. How have you and Mr. Woofles been enjoying your stay?"
Maybe I really was shallow, that I slipped so easily into small-talk, but wasn't finding out how other people were as important as telling them about myself? Maybe I should try for some more depth, though I wasn't sure Felicien would be the most receptive to it. "Could I ask you a question perhaps? I know you're likely on the way to do something, so it's alright if you don't."
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 2, 2011 14:47:45 GMT -5
I felt beyond terrible – worse even than the damnable headache – standing there in the hallway, babbling about my stupid dog while kind-hearted Noemi valiantly tried to be nice to me about my stupid dog.
The thing I really wanted to do, and the thing I absolutely couldn't, was ask her what was wrong. I knew what was wrong. She was holding it in her hand. And I'd written it, well, not precisely to upset her.... No. Stop lying to yourself. I'd written it to upset her to show I could, because I was afraid of liking her. And because it was important, apparently, for me to prove publicly that I didn't care about my cousin.
Am I some sort of monster? Noemi de Trevalion is just a girl, made for sunlight not shadows. But I can't afford to think that way. Innocence is just foolishness with a prettier name. My loyalty lies absolutely with my cause. And I cannot allow caring to weaken me.
I knew I had done the right thing. But, once again, the problem came down to living with it. I hadn't expected her distress to tear at me. To be honest, I'd expected to be able to avoid it like the coward I am. I suppose this small taste of pain was a punishment I deserved, a reminder that my course is not an easier one.
I found myself wishing I had the actual Mr Woofles with me. I hate him but he's a perfect distraction, especially when I'm not feeling entirely well. “Of course, Nomnom, you can ask me anything,” I said, grinning one of Felicien's idiot grins.
Honestly, what kind of question would she ask for which Felicien could be expected to provide a reasonable answer?
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 2, 2011 17:29:54 GMT -5
There was a moment where I wondered if he was going to say no, though I couldn't figure out why, and I simply stood where I was and waited for a moment to see how things were going to work out. My sister would likely have thought that Felicien was mad or stupid but I'd never been comfortable judging people that way, especially for something that was very likely not their fault. People were born that way, it wasn't a choice they'd taken it on themselves to make like cruelty or ignorance was.
Besides, lately I'd had reason to question Victoire's outlook on things. I still didn't want to think that she had intended evil with everything that her diary spelled out- but what did that mean then? A moment of annoyance at my own thoughts flashed through me but I did my best to keep it to myself. Elua and Azza, wouldn't those thoughts ever go away and leave me peaceful for a few moments?
A second later Felicien agreed and smiled and I echoed it by sheer force of habit as I tried to decide the best way to phrase my question. If I asked him whether or not he knew this paper and he did then he might have some answers for me. What if he didn't though? He might want to read it, and he would see those things in there about the mistakes I'd made and think worse of me for them. At least now I was still a conversational companion if not a friend. After this though...
And had any of my other friends seen this? What would they think? There was my sin of pride again, inherited through the generations, making me think of the most selfish thing possible, like my reputation, rather than making me inclined to learn from this mistake. Most of my life I'd heard about the sin that my ancestor had laid at our feet, so what was the balance to it other than our strength to fight it?
Still smiling I cocked my head and thought for another moment about what I should say that wouldn't give away too much but was still weighing on my mind. Maybe the cause of this was my own ignorance, and that was what had allowed this to be written, and to be so right. "Do I not fit in here, in Terre d'Ange? I know that being raised away probably makes me much different, and you said you've been in many places."
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 3, 2011 11:02:53 GMT -5
“....La....” I said, weakly, having no idea what to say, as either Felicien or Florian, and feeling stupid enough to be Felicien in truth rather than mere pretence.
For a moment or two I just blinked at her. To say it wasn’t a question I had anticipated would have been the understatement of the century. I had thought she was going to ask me about La Voix, and I was all geared up to pretend absolute and total ignorance. It would have been manipulation of the worst kind to comfort her for a wound I had myself inflicted, but I had hoped that she would find Felicien’s lack of interest or understanding in some way soothing.
“Errr,” I tried again.
This was hopeless. So what, she was sad. She’d read the truth. She should get over it and actually do some good in the world, instead of thinking about nothing but parties and dresses. Although I suddenly realised that she’d only had one party since I’d been staying with her, and most of the time she walked around barefoot with her hair down like a careless peasant on a summer day.... I really hadn’t written anything about Noemi de Trevalion at all, had I? Just some imaginary airhead I could tear down.
“Darling Nomnom,” I said, mustering myself, “is this about ..” I had been about to say the d'Angeline-La Serenissima fusion summer dress but I remembered at the last the moment I’d written those words almost precisely in the pamphlet, “orange party frock? It was a little daring, but you carried it beautifully. All the girls were jealous, believe me. It’s far more important to set fashion than follow it, as anyone who has seen my waistcoats collection can attest.”
Attest? Would Felicien say attest? Or did that sound like the Prissy Fuck Florian?
And then, in spite of everything, I still failed to shut up. “Why are you asking me this?” I said, striving for a careless laugh that didn’t come out quite right.
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 3, 2011 16:51:57 GMT -5
He looked so surprised at my question that I wondered if he'd taken it differently than I'd asked, or if I'd said something wrong, and I was almost scrabbling for some way to explain myself when he finally began to speak. At first there were only a few assorted sounds and there was a sense of frantic confusion to Felicien's behavior, and even once he was coherent again that almost seemed to stay with him. I really hadn't meant to baffle him so much. Was that me being selfish again too?
Whether it was or not at least I could fix it, and I reached forward a hand to rest it lightly on his arm while giving him a smile. "Thank you, that's very nice to say about the gown," I told him, though my fondness for it didn't mean it had to be universal. In the end clothing was clothing, it was the person inside them that really mattered. You could learn a lot about a person by what they had on but it seemed very silly to wrap up everything in that small of a first impression the way some people did.
Then he asked his own question and I looked down for a moment as I thought, pulling my fingers away so I could smooth down my skirt and sit on the steps, my feet still in my riding boots and resting on the stair below me. Why was I asking him this? I suppose because he was the only person to ask at the moment and I hadn't talked to anyone in a few days. Maybe I was just lonely and hadn't realized it, but it still seemed like a question that needed to be answered.
Now that I'd asked though I had to be honest. It would just be wrong not to at this point. "Well, I.." I took another moment to collect my thoughts again and smiled, hoping that would cover my pause. "Something I read made me wonder if I was going about things here all wrong. When I first arrived things seemed easy and it wasn't that different than where I grew up, and the way I was used to things working, but now I'm not sure if that's so. Do you want to sit down?"
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 4, 2011 8:39:49 GMT -5
I really didn’t want to sit down and let myself be (unintentionally) tormented by Noemi de Trevalion. It would have been easy to make an excuse and flee – oh Nomnom, I’m sorry, Mr Woofles needs me - but that would have been so utterly cowardly I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I made choices, and I had to learn to live with those choices. After all, the truths I wrote would be worthless if I couldn’t face the consequences of them without flinching.
I sat down carefully on the step next to her, pulling my hair over my shoulder so it wouldn’t trail. Even only partially Felicien-ed, my clothes aren’t really made for sitting down or moving around. In fact, this would probably do terrible things to the hang of the coat – wait, was I actually thinking that?
I stole another glance at my cousin instead, who was looking downcast, and also as comfortable at the top of staircase as if she reclined on a bed of silk. I propped my elbows on my knees and rested my chin on my knuckles, and listened to her. Felicien doesn’t listen to anyone because he’s too stupid and self-absorbed and, Florian, I now knew, wasn’t too keen on the practice on either but I was trying. I suddenly realised it was the first thing Noemi had really said about herself – everything else had been attempts to be nice to me.
“It just goes to show you shouldn’t read things,” I said, when she was done, trying somehow to navigate the spaces between Felicien and Florian and say something both silly and meaningful at the same time, “it’s a dreary habit. And, anyway, just because somebody writes something down doesn’t mean they know any better than you do. It just means they have too much time on their hands."
Oh no. I was now trying to give her comfort over something I wrote about her by telling her I didn’t think I was worth listening to. I was surely going to get another headache over this.
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 5, 2011 12:44:19 GMT -5
As Florian sat down I turned slightly to glance at him, watching as he arranged himself somewhat comfortably there. Since coming to the City I'd seen some people who dressed as he did, or at least near enough that I could recognize elements of it, but it seemed like so much work! Most of my friends were more the sort to tend toward plain clothing in their day to day life but I knew they could dress up very nicely when the occasion called for it. Everyone had their own hobbies though and there were many worse ones than a habit for fashion.
Besides, he did have very nice hair, even tied up in ribbons as it was.
What he said would have been easy to take if there hadn't already been so much on my mind, but I considered his words nonetheless, keeping my gaze politely on Felicien as he spoke and considering his words all the while. I generally counted anything in print as a point of reference unless it was deliberately fiction and I could tell that the person who'd written this was both angry and firm on his views. Besides, while I didn't know all of those numbers exactly a person wouldn't print them unless they had proof because it would be easy enough for someone to call it out if it wasn't.
"But it must take a lot of work to find all of this information and such, even if it might have been done by underhanded means," I replied a moment later, then smiled a bit more and bumped his shoulder with my own to show I wasn't quite as upset anymore. After all he was trying to help me feel better, at least as far as I could tell. "It was right about some things too, but I can't really go back in time to fix it, can I? I'll just have to remember it for the future and have more care about what I'm doing."
Smiling a bit wider I set the paper down for him to pick up if he wanted, in case he wanted to read it, but from his earlier statements I wasn't sure he would. "But really, do you think I'm odd compared to the other people you know? Is there something else I should be doing?"
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 6, 2011 9:28:21 GMT -5
Suddenly I was laughing. It came bubbling out of nowhere and once I'd started I found I couldn't stop – even though there came a point when it almost painful. Finally I managed to control myself.
“I'm sorry,” I said, breathlessly, wiping moisture from my eyes, wondering if she thought I was mad, “it's just … you're asking me … if you're odd.”
And then I dissolved all over again.
I steadied myself with difficulty, and tried to think about what she had actually said to me. My position was growing increasingly precarious with every word she uttered. How was I supposed to reassure her when I had caused the pain in the first place, and, worse, why I did I want to reassure her? I had an overwhelming urge just to tell her and be done with it - at least that way I wouldn't have to navigate this conversation. But then she'd probably never talk to me again. Would that be so terrible? I mean, I'd existed this far without the innocent kindness of Noemi de Trevalion. But reluctant as I was to earn her hatred, it would also have been dangerous. La Voix was far more important than my comfort, and my pathetic desire not to lie too brazenly to my cousin.
And then Alayne's words in the bathouse stormed into my mind: what then, she had asked, what then?
Trying to pretend I just hadn't been braying like a hyena, I said: “Of course you can't change the past, Nomnom, that would be silly. But what else would you be doing with all that money?”
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 6, 2011 11:29:35 GMT -5
When Felicien started to laugh I could only look at him with a bit of surprise; it would have been a nice enough laugh if not for that sense of desperation in it. The response was a little unexpected, but I kind of understood it anyway. Maybe it did seem like a sihlly question, especially as I was a princess living in this huge house with servants, whatever I wanted to buy to make myself fit in at my fingertips if I asked for it, my friends some of the highest in society. That was all some people aspired to. Was it really right for me to worry about something that silly?
But at the same time wasn't that the point the paper had been trying to make, that all I did worry about and should be concerned with something outside of myself?
Likely drawn by the curious sound of conversation and amusement Vesta peeked her head out from my doorway, then started over on her gangly puppy legs toward us and started to squeeze her way between me and the bannister to see what was going on. She wasn't much like Mr. Woofles, being a bit more of a steady temperament and likely to grow up as large as most hunting dogs but she had the same sort of need for affection and I smiles as I scratched her behind the ears and scooted over a bit so she could rest her head on my lap.
Once my cousin was done talking I glanced down and thought about his question, though something about his mannerism now was a little different than he'd shown around me before. It was good though, to see him coming out of his shell, and perhaps I would think about it later when I was less distracted by everything in my head.
"I honestly don't know," I said in a quiet, sincere tone as I glanced back over at him once my thoughts had collected themselves a bit more. "Maybe spend time with my friends, or use it to help them with things. Some of them aren't nobles at all and could probably use it. Most of the time it's my sister that handles the money. I'd rather be dancing or meeting new people, or taking care of my pets. What would you do with it?"
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 7, 2011 9:24:06 GMT -5
I was glad for the distraction of Noemi's dog because it gave me time to sort through my various, ever-tangling selves. I knew how Florian would answer her question, and I knew how Felicien would answer it – but I wasn't Florian, right now, was I? I was Felicien. And if I didn't answer as Felicien she would likely to begin to suspect something of my true sympathies.
I was starting to prefer having a headache.
I stole a sidelong glance at my cousin – she looked like a portrait painter's fondest fancy. Riding boots, hunting dog, shining hair, such a combination of paradoxes and oppositions, beauty without artifice, compassion without self-consciousness. I feared I was always going to think of her as a barefoot princess – with something painfully close to affection, which was, in turn, something I simply couldn't afford. Damn her. I thought I had exorcised this weakness with La Voix.
“La, Nomnom,” I thrilled, “I don't know, probably spend it on pretty things, for that's what money is for, isn't it? But I can't help wondering...” I hoped I could pass this off as Felicien's stupidity “...why would you only spend it helping your friends? Aren't there are other people in trouble in the world? Or do you only want to help people you already know?”
I blinked at her innocently, as if I had no idea what I was talking about.
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 7, 2011 9:56:35 GMT -5
Vesta was settled in my lap and comfortable and she shifted a little more to put her front two paws on my gown and looked over at my guest. Since Felicien had Mr. Woofles I'd done my best to keep Vesta away from that portion of the house lest there was some sort of disagreement between the dogs and, as a consequence, she hadn't had a chance to meet either of them yet. Already I could tell she wanted to be social but I kept petting the puppy and hoped that my cousin wouldn't get offended if she did decide to go over and say hello.
Even with all of these thoughts and the conversation at hand it was somehow comfortable to sit here with my dark-haired companion and talk though. Maybe it had just been too long since I'd had someone new to talk to, or since I'd had something to break me out of my own thoughts about Victoire and poison and tragedy, but I was actually starting to see some of his personality. Before it had been harder to get an idea of, what with us just meeting and getting him settled.
There was still something simple about him, but I had to wonder whether it was his way of thinking or his mind itself that it found its base in. I knew many girls who weren't exactly taught to think much beyond what they were told; maybe that was the same way he approached the world too.
His question though- it was a hard one, and I felt a moment of apprehension as I looked into his seemingly sweetly baffled eyes and bit my lower lip lightly as I considered it. Did I only care about those I was close to? With animals I knew that wasn't the case, I'd take in any creature that I found and needed help or a home- but at the same time, could I see everything? I helped everyone I met, but I couldn't know everyone either.
"My friends are like my family," I said for a moment, trying to explain, then sighed and shook my head. "No, that's not right. I mean, they are, but I don't know if that's a good reason. I want to help everyone, and everything, but I don't know how to I suppose. There's a part of me that likes the shopping and having fun, and since I try to be as nice as I can to everyone I meet I though that was doing something good in the midst of it. Perhaps I should put some money wear my heart is, but I wouldn't know how to go about that either, or who needs my help. Maybe I am shallow and stupid for not knowing, but I want to try and fix that too. How could I help everyone in the world?"
Forcing a slight smile to my lips and glanced at him sideways as I tucked some hair behind my ear. "It's so complicated, isn't it? Trying to think of a way to make everyone happy."
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 8, 2011 16:48:29 GMT -5
Noemi's puppy lolled between us – it was in the gangly stage that seems to strike certain breeds of dogs. I don't usually like dogs, but she seemed so generally amiable that I found myself petting her absently as I listened to my cousin, while her tail thumped the floor, and occasionally my leg, with enthusiasm.
Her ignorance of the world was astounding though, but then had I really been different at her age? My idea of fun hadn't been shopping and parties – it had been roaming the countryside, heedless and happy, with Ann and Marc – but I had never stopped to question the world around me, or the privileges that separated me utterly from the people I thought I loved. I, too, had possessed that nebulous desire to do good, without any real intent of doing any, believing it to be enough.
I ought to have been glad, then, to be here with Noemi now – in some position to educate her, if only a little. But, for some strange reason, I wasn't. I yearned to be her equal again, in both innocence and ignorance. I think, once-upon-a-time, I could have been, and perhaps I would have been happy. We would have gone through the world as laughing fools, and I would run my fingers through her shinning hair, and thought myself as happy as I needed to be. Stupid, selfish thoughts.
“I really have no idea Nomnom,” I said, cheerfully. “But it seems to me that you're so fixed on worrying about helping everyone you're not helping anyone.” I laughed, to suggest that observation was just Felicien being stupid as usual. “I mean you have money and power and time and kindness, surely you could do anything you wanted. I mean all you have to do is walk through Night's Doorstep to see people in need of help. Errr, I presume. I wouldn't know. I don't like walking, it's so bad for the shoes, darling.”
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 9, 2011 8:33:38 GMT -5
At this point there was no way for me to know exactly what my current conversational companion thought of me but for some reason I didn't want him to think that I was only some silly girl who thought of gowns and parties and buying clever things. Maybe it was because he seemed so overly concerned with it at times himself, or maybe it was because the fact that he could be so fixated with something like that and still say things that were more intelligent than I tended to say. It embarrassed me a bit, and reinforced the fact that I really didn't know anything about this place for all of the wandering I'd done.
I did know that I'd helped people though. I had! I'd seen their smiles, and the way my friends had enjoyed themselves when we were together, whether that was while we were shopping or riding or finding some sort of trouble to get into. No, that wasn't helping everyone, but could someone ever do that?
There wasn't even way to know what my expression was showing right now, I was paying so little attention to that and I'd never been good at hiding my thoughts anyway, so I just kept looking down the steps as I thought. At least Vesta was content with me for now, good dog that she was. No, she wasn't a person, but she was a living thing. Her happiness counted too, at least to me.
Finally an idea struck me and I looked back over at Felicien with something of a wider smile and all sorts of things coming to mind. "You know, I've been a lot of places in the City. I spent a lot of time right after I arrived walking around to learn the place like I did in La Serenissima," I said in a thoughtful tone. "But I never did make it to the Doorstep because my brother asked me not too, saying it was too dangerous. He's gone now though.. And what he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?"
With that I stood up and smoothed down my skirts, filled with a sort of repentant determination as I pushed some hair behind my shoulders. "Would you like to come with me? We can take a carriage there and then look around if you don't want to walk all of that way, and we could stop somewhere and get lunch as well."
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 9, 2011 8:53:53 GMT -5
Oh shit. Having to escort Noemi de Trevalion through Night’s Doorstep while dressed like a fool and acting like a fool was the last thing I would have wanted. There was, also, the possibility of being recognised – not that I imagined most of the wretched souls, and disillusioned downtrodden I knew around there would be interested enough to study the face of an over-privileged fop and connect it to the plain man with the printing press and the big ideas.
Besides, her absent brother was correct: it would be dangerous, and although I wanted Noemi to understand more about the way the world worked, I didn’t want to get her into trouble.
Except … except … when the revolution came … I could not save her from that. And I shouldn’t want to save her.
“Gosh, Nomnom,” I cried, waving my arms as if in profound distress, “your brother is right. It’s a terrible, dirty place, full of miserable poor people. Why would you want to go there? You might get stabbed or something. Or ruin your dress. Besides, darling, I’m simply not dressed for going out. Look at me, I’m a complete state. I’d need at least another six hours before I dared leave the house.”
I scrambled to my feet, almost falling off my shoes and down the stairs, in my anxious desire to stop my cousin doing anything rash. She looked like she was about to storm Night’s Doorstep on her own, and I couldn’t allow that. Though gods knew how I was supposed to stop her.
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 9, 2011 9:52:42 GMT -5
As Felicien rose he seemed unsteady and I reached out a hand to rest on his arm, hoping to steady him as he spoke and I considered what he'd said. I trusted Cygnus's judgement, especially now that I was less sure that I could trust Victoire's, but I also knew that he tended to be very protective of me and as a soldier he had a different outlook on things than I did. Poor people weren't necessarily waiting around to stab people, even if they were rich, were they? That was a horrible way to think and made them less of people, and if I let myself believe it I would be less of a person as well.
Most people had that sort of view though. I couldn't help but remember when I'd brought Eric with me as my guest to Lucien and Phreya's engagement party and everyone had wondered if he was my lover or if I was trying to make some sort of statement. He was my friend, no matter his standing, but even my own relatives hadn't always understood my ways. If I didn't change it for them I wasn't going to for my more distant cousin, even if he did seem genuinely worried.
"Well, my brother already said I shouldn't go outside the City walls and I've gone on rides out there already, so staying inside should be better, even if it is there," I replied, still cheerfully enough but hearing a little bit of stubbornness in my tone. "But you don't have to go if you don't want to. Dirt doesn't bother me much and I doubt anyone will want to stab me just for being alive, will they? You stay here and rest, and look after Mr. Woofles, and when I get back I'll tell you what happened."
With that I took a deep breath and looked down at my gown, then back toward my room as Vesta rose and shook off, seeming a little put out in a puppyish way that she was having to move while losing the affection she'd been getting before and looking between Felicien and I. My cousin- well, maybe he didn't know any better after all, and I gave him a playful look. "You know, I think I'll call you Cammie, since I forgot to give you a nickname when we first met. Does that suit you?"
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 10, 2011 6:30:24 GMT -5
Cammie? Cammie?! No, it didn’t bloody well suit me. I think I probably visibly twitched. But what could I say about it, really? As part of my quest to be as dismissably irritating as possible I had, after all, dubbed my cousin ‘Nomnom’.
I suspected her, for a moment, of subtle malice but her face was so open and cheerful I had to disregard that notion. I think she was genuinely trying to return the “friendliness” I had shown her by saddling her with a stupid name.
I believe the technical term for that is hoist with your petard.
I managed to distort my mouth into a happy smile, forcing out the words: “That’s so sweet of you, Nomnom darling. Now we are the best of friends!”
Still, I suppose it could have been worse – she could have gone for the more obvious ‘Fel’, which would have reminded me of Marc and Ann and stabbed my heart every time she said it. At least ‘Cammie’ would only outrage my sense of taste.
But this was a minor problem, compared to the other, which was that she was still proposing to venture impulsively to Night’s Doorstep. In truth it seemed reasonably unlikely she’d get into any real trouble but I was still reluctant to let her go. I’d wanted her to use her wealth and power for the betterment of society, not run off on her own to find the poor and needy and help them one by one. They wouldn’t know what had hit them. And I really couldn’t afford to accompany her – not only did I have no wish to prance my way around Night’s Doorstep playing the fool, but if I wanted to keep myself safe, and unrecognized, I had to keep my two spheres separate.
I tossed my hair. “La, cousin,” I said, “if you’re determined to go off to a dreary place to do dreary things, I shall most certainly stay in with Mr Woofles. He wouldn’t ever dream of doing anything so silly.”
And with that, I flounced back up the stairs – feeling like an utter shit.
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Noemi de Trevalion
Royal (Staff)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Trevalion *Voted Character You'd Most Like to Meet 2010*
Sister to Victoire and Cygnus
Posts: 1,119
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Post by Noemi de Trevalion on Aug 10, 2011 15:58:31 GMT -5
There was a moment of surprise on his face that seemed almost sincerely annoyed or angered at me and I had to wonder if I'd somehow struck a nerve- but then he put on a smile, a little forced, and I stopped worrying somewhat. If nothing else Cammie didn't seem like the sort of person who would be very good at hiding his feelings for too long, so if he was really upset he wouldn't try to hide it, would he? Maybe I'd only caught him off-guard.
Of course next he was calling me his best friend, though only about a second or two before he was pooh-poohing my idea with a prim flip of his hair and started on his way. Dreary? What did he know about dreary? There was no way he could know about the other things that had been going through my mind, the sort of mental desperation and pain I'd gone through in the last few days, I shouldn't hold that against him. No one knew save Jean-Baptiste.
At the same time he'd just been giving me advice about helping others though, keeping people in mind. Had that been senseless nonsense to him? Was I stupid enough to do this on a fool's words? It actually made me somewhat angry to think I was being even more foolish now to try and help someone on words that came from someone who didn't even believe them?
Yes, because he was right to me even with that.
"I hope you and Mr. Woofles have fun," I said a moment later, then went to my room to change quickly and put on my fedora before walking purposefully out of the house once again and toward the Doorstep.
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Post by Felicien Clermont-Montmorency on Aug 10, 2011 16:17:45 GMT -5
I stood dithering outside my door, hearing her footsteps recede, return, and then the shutting of the front door. She'd gone. She'd actually gone.
Words were so much easier than people. In future, I should restrict myself to words, and only words. What had I done?
I was going to get another headache, I knew it.
I had to let her go. She probably wouldn't come to harm. Probably. And although under normal circumstances I wouldn't expect people to connect Felicien and Florian, if they saw me/him/us prancing through Night's Doorstep maybe they would? What if I saw Alayne? What if I saw someone else?
But I couldn't just let Noemi go wandering around Night's Doorstep on her own, trying to do good, could I?
I threw open the door, and skidded inside, shrieking for Fouinon.
“Hey, I was napping,” he said. “What's the matter? Has the revolution started?”
I babbled frantically about having to go to Night's Doorstep with Noemi – and to his credit, for once, Fouinon did not mock me.
“I need to look more like Felicien than I ever have before. I need to look so much like Felicien that nobody could even think of Florian.”
Fouinon was already tossing pots of powder, rough, kohl and glitter my way. “You know,” he said, meditatively, while I applied, “I think you might need The Hat.”
I took a sharp breath.
About ten minutes later – sparkling profusely, beribboned like a maypole and precariously supporting The Hat – I was chasing Noemi to Night's Doorstep.
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