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Post by Julie Deveroix (D) on Jul 24, 2007 22:15:01 GMT -5
It was the second day after the coronation, and I had been up as the sun had risen, excited and sleepless. The previous day, I had mostly spent training, under the quizzical and astonished eye of Nicole, and for the first time I had wished for Jonas to be at my side, for comfort and advice both. I missed him.
But this morning, I had at last the chance to prove myself, and so I had long debated with myself, breeches or gown, and finally the breeches had won out, for comfort, mostly, but also because the only gowns I owned were those I had worn at the Coronation, and it made little sense to wear such attire for this purpose.
Dark pants, black, and a cream shirt underneath, and a jacket of black as well to complement made me feel at my best. I had picked up my blue-feathered hat, and saddled Freya myself. At mid-morning, I had set forth to House Liatris, indications taken on the way, for still, I was weary of my brother's opinion on the matter.
I had told Ambre of my whereabouts, and instructed her to please tell Kendrick where I was, should I not sent another note to House Rocaille, telling her the outcome of the meeting. If the Duchesse was as unpredictable as her reputation had come to my ears, I wanted to be prepared. I had no doubt that she had the ability to hurt me, if she wanted to.
My sword hung at my side, battered from all the training, yet untried in battle, and I gave Freya to care to the stableboy, leaving my name to the maid at the Entrance. Specifically, I told her, "Lady Julie Deveroix is here, to meet the Duc Consort, or the Duchesse, should she wish to."
Gods, I had thought those words, over and over in my mind, not wanting to slight her, yet needing to state my purpose. And so my hat was under my arm, in military fashion, and I waited.
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Post by Elton Tulare-Durante (D) on Jul 29, 2007 2:24:30 GMT -5
One of the pages found me in the salle, warming up and drilling alone, as was my wont first thing in the morning. And today I needed it. Jaiden had been cruel in her lovemaking these past two night, and I found myself stiff, and a trifle sore. She brought out the savage in me when she was like this. I couldn't help the sad smile that thought gave me.
"Have her brought to me here, and then please find Le Clerc and have him meet us here, when he's able." The lad ran off to do as bidden. I continued my warm up. Should I tell Jaiden? No- not until I saw what the girl could do.
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Post by Julie Deveroix (D) on Jul 29, 2007 11:43:20 GMT -5
When the page stalked up to take me to Elton, I followed him to the salle, my back straight and my head high. I gave a small movement of my neck, to see if my braid was holding. It did, and I thanked Elua for it, that the long locks that went to the small of my back were at least not unleashed. It was lumpy, and likely not so pretty, and I did not care about my looks. I was there to learn.
Entering the salle, I found Elton stretching, and quietly, I waited, my hat under my arm. When he was done, and his back was upright as it should be, I took a small step, and gave him what my fanciful mind called the Secret Bow. I had practiced it in secret since I was twelve, and recently had started using it. It was graceful, elegant, and much less ridiculous than curtsying in breeches. As I made the movement, my sword followed, an extention of me, a pledge of loyalty.
"Good morning, Elton," I told him with a smile that was frank and happy. "It is good to see you again," I added gently.
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Post by Elton Tulare-Durante (D) on Jul 31, 2007 5:51:33 GMT -5
I knew she had entered the training ring, but I finished my exercises anyway. It was ritual, an I found that anytime it was broken, boded for a poor day. All soldiers have their superstitions. This one was mine.
She bowed, a practiced gesture, that told volumes about how she moved. It was different from last night. In that white gown she'd moved very carefully, unnaturally almost. In breeches today it was much more fluid, centered. Good. One worry down.
"Lady Deveroix." I bowed in return, automatically slipping into formality. It was too deeply ingrained in me not to show courtesy to a lady. Even one in breeches. "May I see your blade, Julie?" I watched her carefully, assessing everything.
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Post by Julie Deveroix (D) on Jul 31, 2007 13:52:11 GMT -5
Straight to business. Well enough, for I was eager as well.
"Of course," I told him, carefully turning, that I did no draw it in front of him, but to my side. He would see all that I did, but not be the target of my movement. Swashbuckler's courtesy to another.
Slowly, I unsheathed her, my old friend. I had had her for a long time, now, seven years, and she had been the companion of many trainings, the extension of my arm. She had never seen blood, in a way, she was still innocent, but she had touched skin, a few times, in self-defense or in training. The least innocent move she had done was press against Jonas' neck, that fateful night where I left the estate, and the look of sorrow on his face had been enough to disarm me.
My hand under the blade, I handed the sword to Elton, taking stock of its qualities. It cut, well enough, for I had made sure of it, and I knew the weight of it was right for me, or maybe it was I who had adapted to her for all this time. It had a few nicks and scrapes, for those times where it had gone through branches and others, but all in all, it still looked young.
I smiled quietly. The blade suited me, I thought.
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Post by Elton Tulare-Durante (D) on Aug 4, 2007 8:06:17 GMT -5
I took the worn hilt in my hands and carefully inspected the weapon. It was old, and battered. The leather wrapped hilt needed replacing and there were suspicious nicks along the blade. If she'd never been formally trained, I guessed those notches were from hacking nonliving foes.
"Where did you acquire this weapon?"
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Post by Julie Deveroix (D) on Aug 4, 2007 13:05:49 GMT -5
I shrugged. In truth, I did not know. "The sword was purchased by a friend, about seven years ago," I told him, not bothering to explain that it was the butler's daughter who had sneaked it for me. How she had put her hands on it, she had never told me.
Worried that he may be concerned about angering my family, I added, "My father has no objection with this now, though." It wasn't a lie - mostly because noone cared what I was up to, these days, save Kendrick, and I wasn't sure what that was about.
"So, well, I don't know where my friend got it," I concluded. "What do you think of it?"
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Post by Elton Tulare-Durante (D) on Aug 5, 2007 7:17:11 GMT -5
I gripped the hilt firmly and stepped a few paces back from Julie. Clearing my thoughts, focused only on the length of steel in my hands, I moved through a portion of my morning ritual, letting the blade flow through the blocks and parries, feeling its soul.
Every weapon has a soul, even the most crudely fabricated ones. Some had great souls, that sang their battle peon with every gorgeous movement. Svellmaer was one such, singing through you with every move, a song of glory, honor and blood. Others had quiet souls, whispers of possibility. This blade had a quiet song. The balance wasn't perfect, the blade not entirely straight or uniform in thickness. It was Julie's sword because she loved it, not because it was made for her.
I stopped, knowing enough about the sword, and a little more about her. Under all that bravado, was a girl still unsure of herself and seeking approval for her choices. I sighed. This was going to be more difficult than I thought.
"It is a standard enough blade, nothing special about the craftsmanship or steel. It will serve you well enough as a practice blade, but I would never arm my own soldiers with it in the field. I can tell it wasn't made specifically for you. You probably do passing well with this weapon in practice, having adapted to its limitations." I passed the sword back to her, hilt first. I wasn't being harsh, but I couldn't be nice. If she wanted to learn, niceness would do her no favors.
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Post by Julie Deveroix (D) on Aug 5, 2007 7:52:24 GMT -5
I leaned against the wall, my eyes following every one of his movements, noting, trying to let my body understand them. Some I knew, others, I did not. Already, looking at his elegant routine, I was learning.
Listening to his words, I took the sword, and sheathed it back. His words were well matched to the opinion I had of the weapon. I had never even bothered naming her because I knew she was nothing special. I was just glad he didn't think it was awful.
A small smile on my lips, I shrugged, my eyes meeting his with assurance. "I'm not surprised, but I'll admit, I'm rather relieved it's not downright horrible," I chuckled. "Imagine, all those years, practicing with something awful," I added a little gleefully.
I was ready for action, and so I stood, at the ready. "Well, My Lord Elton, what will you have me do first?"
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