Princess Azabel de Somerville
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Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 8, 2009 7:17:41 GMT -5
Once again his eyes took the full of my frame in, and I flushed deeper than I had before; he knew who I was now, so the anonymity I'd been able to claim previously no longer had sway. Instead, he was blatantly showing interest, and I was unsure how to take it. I couldn't chalk this off to aught else, merely a man interested in a woman. I'd have said mayhap my title and position - and assuredly, it might be a factor; I knew him not well enough to say either way, though I liked to think not. Regardless though, he'd looked at me as such before he'd known my name. If I could pull anything untainted and positive about this, it was the fact that he was relaxed enough to do so again, and I was oddly grateful for that relaxation.
"I'll be sure not to speak of it to anyone, my lord," I responded, my tone teasing, though a thin thread, small enough to be overlooked, shown through; I was unnerved a touch. What would Delaunay do, if he were me? Flirt and carouse, leaving with smiles and nothing but innocence? Or would he draw up and stalk off, pride impugned? I didn't think he'd be the latter, when nothing but smiles and good conversation had been exchanged. And nothing more than that, too... Of course.
The color faded somewhat in my cheeks though they still felt warm, and I hid my face behind a momentary drink of my wine, making a reflexive note of pleasure at the flavor. It seemed as if it got better with every drink; it was at that moment that he spoke of creating the wine himself, and I looked at him in surprise - and oddly pleased to hear it, too.
"You created this?" I queried, looking from my glass and to his ebony-rimmed blue eyes again. "You showed talent early in life then," I complimented, bowing my head just slightly towards him. "Truly, I enjoy it greatly. It has a subtle flavor that hints rather than overpowers." Unabashed - or at least, mostly - I took the opportunity to study him, the way his cheekbones melded to the straight line of his nose, down to the line of his lip and the hair that darkened his lower face. Even if he were shaved clean, it'd be obvious to one who was used to clean d'Angeline faces, I was sure. "I didn't realize your family created wines as well as selling. Do you own vineyards in Aragonia, then?"
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 8, 2009 8:54:00 GMT -5
I watched her as she flushed, her cheeks, which were just a rosy pink, now becoming darker as I realised that it was my own actions, letting my eyes wander appreciatively over her frame, that might have done so - no not might have, did. I ran my hand through my locks again, something of a nervous tick, one might say, and thought about appologizing. However, she didn't bring it up for discussion so I reminded myself instead that she was nigh unto married and that behaviour like that was uncalled for. It was just a mite difficult. She was beautiful, and all things beautiful deserve the appreciation that they ellicit. With that in mind, I focused my gaze on hers instead.
As the moments passed the colour lessened and she stopped hiding behind her glass of wine, though she sipped it still, and it seemed she truly did appreciate the flavours, and was astonished to hear that I had created it.
"Well," I said with a smile, feeling my own cheeks heat at the compliment, "my father helped, of course, but it was one of my first. I was terribly young and we weren't really sure if it would be a favourite, but it was mine, no less. I took pride in it... well still do take pride in it," I said with a chuckle, stammering a bit, which was not much my style. She made me a mite nervous, or maybe that was the wrong word... anxious? Which is more than I could say for most women, d'Angeline or otherwise.
"I am glad that you are enjoying the flavours. And to answer your question," I went on, taking another drag from my glass, "yes, we have vineyards, or rather one fairly large one. Cordova is a small dutchy, perhaps one might not even call it that, and generally overlooked though known in Aragonia for producing some fairly decent vintages." I watched her eyes as I explained, they moved from mine, to caress over my face, coming to rest on my chin then back up. I smiled, mayhap a little wantonly, for the appraisal of her gaze, and wondered if she found me attractive. It was not wrong, I didn't think, even if betrothed, to find beauty in other people. We are human first, afterall, and humans are made to appreciate such things.
Though surrounded by the men here, I would not think to stand out for being physically appealing, but more so just physically different.
"Do you have vineyards within your estates? My memory fails me and I have not been here overlong to remember where it is the de Somervilles hail from," I admitted, feeling rather stupid for not reading up on my d'Angeline history. I had known it once, had had it drilled into me, but at the moment it was far from my mind.
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Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 8, 2009 10:08:48 GMT -5
I listened to him, but more than that I observed. His hair was tousled now, more than it usually was I suspected, the curls in a wild disarray that still somehow managed to look as if he meant them to appear like that. Aye, I thought. Women all over would pay dearly to have his attributes. With his long, thick lashes and the rugged, cultured way his features were set, it wouldn't be long before women here began setting their hearts at his feet. Something, I was sure, he wasn't unused to in Aragonia. There, he was more gracefully beautiful, set up finely with apparent money and estates. Here, he was ruggedly beautiful, and still well-to-do, though in an exotic location. He must lack for naught, I thought bemusedly.
He must stand to gain a title, I thought, but it would have been rude of me to ask - especially if I were wrong and he had an elder brother who was receiving it. I didn't think so though, not with the way he held himself, an inner confidence that generally coupled the first born. And then he blushed, driving away all such politically spurned thoughts in favor of simpler things. My smile softened, and expected him to tousle his hair once more, but he surprised me by not.
"L'Agnace," I informed him pleasantly, drawing a finger along the outside of my wineglass absentmindedly. "And no, we do not partake in vineyards, unless Gratien has sought out other avenues without my knowledge." An amused tone carried my words, and after a moment I set the glass down upon the countertop, though didn't release my hold upon it. "How long have you been in Terre d'Ange, Balta?"
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 8, 2009 10:24:29 GMT -5
I watched her as a moment passed between my question and her answer. I could see her eyes looking at me, my hair, my face, and I wondered what it was she saw when she regarded me. Of course, I didn't ask, it would seem rather egotistic to just randomly say 'do you think I'm appealing?' and I almost chuckled at the thought as it passed through my mind. I smiled though, a little brighter than before.
"Ah, L'Agnace. Yes, it makes sense now," I said as I recounted the line of heritage of the de Somervilles, or at least historically. I was still rather unfamiliar with those in power or living now. I raised a brow at the name Gratien, though, unsure of who that might be. Was that her brother? Or was that her betrothed. Why would he know more than her about their estates and lands if it were her betrothed, unless he had taken over everything already. I furrowed my brows, wanting to know who this man was, from pure curiosity, of course, nothing to do with any twinge of competition or jealousy I felt, no not at all. I watched as her finger caressed the glass idly, little indistinct sigels left behind in relief in the mild condensation that clouded the glass, only a little bit. It was innocent, no doubt, but it was mildly flirtatious and I rose a brow as she set her glass, hand still grasping it, on the bar, while I raised mine to my lips.
"I have been steadilly in the City now for two months, though I have travelled here before many times with regards to trade." I laughed then, lightly. "Does it show that I am still wet behind the ears when it comes to life here and knowledge of those at court and who hold title? I never really was one for worrying overmuch about those things. Though I suppose now, being a shoppe owner and looking to thrive it is something that I ought to concern myself with." I laughed again. "It seems to me you are after all my secrets. Mayhap you should divulge a few of your own?" I queried with another sip, the question punctuated with a raised brow.
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Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 8, 2009 13:53:38 GMT -5
He was so very open, gifted in the way of conversation as much as he was at feeling someone feel relaxed at welcome. Indeed, he gave me the impression that he was glad to have given up working to merely stand around and chat - whether or not he really was, and I did believe so, I was still grateful. For a moment I found myself merely looking at him, watching him as he spoke, the way his mouth held a grin that was two shades away from reminding me of a little boy who got away with stealing a pastry. Impish, playful, but there was a sensual lilt that I wasn't sure he was even aware of. I'd visited the Night Court a few times myself, and recognized it. I'd always thought they'd learned it with thier studies, but mayhap not.. Balta carried it, of course.
Abruptly I realized I was leaning towards him a little in my studies, and I blushed yet again, shifting so I was not leaning against the bar any longer, as if that had been the purpose the entire time. Oh Elua, I needed to gain a grip on my mind. Some fresh air might help, mayhap a place to sit, but I was reluctant to leave his infectiously cheerful nature.
"No, it doesn't show at all," I assured him with a heart-felt smile, even while silently trying to will the color away from my cheeks. He'd never know what I looked like without it, if this kept up, but by the gods... "In fact, you seem quite settled and relaxed, but I know your shoppe is newly opened... it's only that that made me ask. You're talented in making one feel welcome, Balta." I said it innocently enough, my tone holding a lilt of friendliness that it never truly lost. Taking another drink of my wine, I set it down again, this time allowing my hand to fall away.
"A few secrets of my own?" Oh by the gods, what could I say now? The only thing I could think of was Delaunay - when not concentrating on Balta and I's conversation, he was all I could think of. It was why I craved company right now, why I was driven to make an ass out of myself and stay here rather than let him get back to his work. Why I hadn't left yet... "Aah, well. You've called me out monsieur, and now I don't know what to say." A rueful smile, though amused. "I've learned a secret of someone dear to me, who doesn't realize just yet that I do know it." I paused, rethinking. "Or, mayhap it wasn't such a secret, but still unbeknownst to me before today."
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 8, 2009 14:16:17 GMT -5
Her eyes seemed to focus on my lips and her body seemed to lean towards me... or maybe I was just imagining things that were happening when they really weren't. It was a good thing, though, that I was not too far into the drink, or I might have taken it as a sign of interest, and may have taken the next step to kiss her, betrothal be damned. A man could not be hanged for kissing a woman promised to someone else... could he? The thought made me laugh as she must have noticed what I noticed as well and she straightened, taking herself from off of the bar and standing rather erect.
"Thank you for saying so, Bella," I said with a soft laugh, "I am glad I don't terrify you. That would be terrible for building friendships, would it not?" Then, realization hit me. In all my excitement and interest in our conversation, I had not thought to offer her a seat, instead making the poor woman stand and tolerate my longwindedness.
I listened intently, my eyes going from her lips to her eyes as I smiled, hopefully not too flirtatiously. They were a perfect shape with just enough pout, her lower lip plump with the sipping of her wine, alcohol always tended to do that, especially to the lady folk. But when she finished, her words making me raise an eyebrow, I worked hard to drag my eyes from her visage, looking to the couched seats nearby just two steps down to the central lower level. Removing myself from the bar as well, straightening and extending my hand, palm up, I cocked my head, a smile on my lips.
"I just noticed we have been standing this entire time, Bella," I murmured, my voice playing with her name, though I knew it shouldn't have. "And here I am, trying to be the perfect host. Would you like to make yourself more comfortable, mayhap take a seat while I pester you about the things you have just said? Like for example... this dear one of yours... is that your lover that this secret belongs to - oh I'm terribly sorry - future husband," I said giving my forehead a playful slap, "or perhaps this Gratien you mentioned earlier? Or are they one and the same?" I finally queried, the question having been on my mind from when she mentioned him earlier. I hoped she didn't think I was prying overmuch, but she did open the door for further investigation.
Grabbing my glass with my other hand I moved away from the bar slightly, waiting for her to take it up so we might move to a more comfortable position.
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Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 8, 2009 16:25:47 GMT -5
The idea that Balta could be terrifying amused me something horrible, and I couldn't stop the laugh that was born of it. "Oh, I don't think either of us have to worry about you frightening me," I teased, mirth still heavy in my voice as I spoke, thoughI sobered, my smile turning genuine and honest. "You're a wonderful host, Balta.. I'm really, very glad I came in here tonight."
And that I let go there, fearing to take it any further and lead him on. Balta was a fine man, but.. Ah Elua, I was engaged, and I wouldn't forget it, even if I was hurt. Hurt. I paused; it was the first time I'd allowed myself to acknowledge it, even if just in my head. I'd been poised on the brink of shaking my head at him, to tell him that I was sure he had other chores to tend to, or remind him of possible patrons that might come in and need help. With that though though, I mentally shook myself. Conversation was helping me, distracting me, and in the end it would be better for both Del and I if I weren't dwelling.
"I.." I paused again, unsure of why I did, and let my eyes rise to meet his again as he stepped away from the bar top, waiting for me to join. Taking up my glass, I followed him, stepping up to his side to follow him to wherever these seats may be - I hadn't seen any thus far. "Gratien is my brother," I responded, letting my other line of speech die away. Glancing up at him, I smiled - he was tall, something I'd not paid much attention to until now. Had there been somewhat in Baltas voice, a hitch of an unnamed emotion? If so, he'd covered it well, for I couldn't tell for sure. Letting the thought die away, I continued on. "I have four brothers, actually - Gratien, Maurice - or Reese, as we call him, and Pierre. I'm the only girl," I added, a rueful smile on my face. "My fiancee is Prince Delaunay de la Courcel."
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 9, 2009 1:46:48 GMT -5
I laughed softly as she unraveled my mythological ability to terrify, though I had terrified some. It just took a great deal to get me to that point, and even I had a hard time letting myself rise to that sort of anger. I doubted she or anyone else would know how to irk me to that point, at least no one yet knew the secrets that, used against me, would become the fuel to the spark.
I listened as she laughed, a genuine laugh, unfettered, uncaring, unhinged, like soft bells, sweet and musical and I found myself smiling wider and wider for it. The poor woman was intensely beautiful, it seemed, in every way. What in the name of the Gods was she doing here, alone, talking to me when she should have been in the warm arms of a lover who could never be sated, who could have not enough of her whims, her charms. I realized, then, that I was staring at her in the moment of silence and looked away after she started to speak, raising her eyes to mine for a moment, faltering in her words, then taking my hand. I walked us down the couple of steps and over to the other side of the shoppe where the seats awaited. But, before reaching, and listening to her little histoire, I froze. It was a noticeable freeze no doubt, though I continued to the small couches in short order.
Sweet Gods have mercy. Not only was she a princess, but she was betrothed to one in line for the damned throne!?
What in all the seven hells was I thinking.
And what in the seven hells could he be doing to upset this poor, beautiful woman?!
I continued to walk, motioning for her to sit down, my smile returning, having faltered upon the news.
"So... you're marrying a potential king," I said slowly, running my hand through my hair as I remained standing for a moment. I wondered, for a moment, if she was truly happy in court life. I know that royalty have very little to say in these matters at times, like their lives are pawns for political gain at all times, but I wondered if she had the choice, would she choose a simple life to the extravagant one she must lead? I shook my head, trying to regain my composure. "That is quite someone to be betrothed to, that is for certain, at least title wise," I said. For some reason, my line of thinking happened upon the fact that she was entirely out of my league, not for her upcoming marriage, but for the man he was. I sighed for a moment. I didn't know where such ideas entered my head. It was not like I could have every woman I set my eyes on, but of all people to show interest in, and blatantly too. Ah Elua. Elua's sweet damned balls.
"So... where is he then, if he is obviously stupid enough to not be with you?" It was a true statement. I didn't care who he was, my earlier assessment still stood. Nothing could be so important that it could take a man away from a woman like this, nothing.
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Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 10, 2009 14:54:24 GMT -5
I followed him as he led me down the few stairs and towards a few small couches, looking plush and inviting in the midst of the wine shoppe. I liked the touch it gave, as if it were inviting one to sit and enjoy conversation, not just to come, buy and leave. No, this place was proper of course, but one with a relaxed air that a person could enjoy, find new friends or meet old ones at. I half expected to see a small gameroom as well, though I knew it was hardly likely to be there.
His sudden lack of movement broke me of my thoughts, and I paused, looking at him curiously.. and ah gods! What I wouldn't have given to know what he was thinking at that moment, for the look on his face and in the glimmer of his eyes left me curious, almost dumbfounded. I watched him even as we walked the remaining few feet to the couches, my eyes playing across his features in attempt to unravel the mystery, and as he gestured for me to sit I did so, carefully - and absentmindedly - arranging my skirts to keep them from wrinkling under me.
"I suppose you could think of it that way," I responded with a kindly smile, though in truth my eyes hadn't left his face even now. "I have title enough of my own.. His matters naught to me. Love as thou wilt," I quoted, then felt a little pang in my heart for it. It made me look away from him finally, eyes skipping instead to the glass I held in my hand, and I took a small drink of it to clear my thoughts, to rid myself of the question that had instantly branded my mind with the quote: Who all did Delaunay love?
"Besides," I said, forcing myself further away from the thoughts with the simple act of conversation. "It's unlikely either Delaunay nor I shall see the seat of the throne. Sabrina is hail and young, Elua be thanked, as well as the Dauphine and Dauphin. I pray it always be so," I added earnestly, truly meaning it. I brought a finger up, tracing it along the rim of the glass in a full circle before raising my eyes to his again.
And then he asked where Delaunay was, bringing another wave of color to my cheeks and sadness to my heart. My eyes almost, almost fell once more, though I stubbornly held them to his. "He is... Caring for his nature," I said at last, as delicately as I could without lying. My fingers trembled just slightly before I tightened my grip upon the glass, and I pulled my hands back in towards my lap more, hoping they'd be well overlooked. "And he is not stupid," I said, a touch fainter, but still loyally defending his honor. "Just... with needs that I cannot meet."
Which needs, though? I couldn't help but wonder it, and briefly I closed my eyes, so briefly it may have been overlooked.
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 10, 2009 15:32:33 GMT -5
As she spoke I moved to sit beside her, listening to her intently. She looked to be going through so many different... emotions... or maybe I was reading into the way she cast her eyes downward, the way she played with her glass and gripped it, how weak her smile had become, once a beacon now a wavering light, or mayhap the way her eyes seemed to flash sadly away from mine, or the way she flinched. That could have all been chalked up to her not wanting to discuss what was on her mind, or something that had bothered her, made her react emotionally. But who was I to know, I was just an Aragonian barkeep afterall. Then again, I knew enough of emotions. Caste does not separate humans when it comes to feeling on such a basic level.
"Yes," I said gently as I watched her, though her eyes stayed away from mine, "your blessed Elua's precept. I have heard of it. This love as thou wilt," I said almost nastily before correcting my tone. It had reminded me of my mother and my own cursed birth that I struggled with. "But, how can monogamy really work in a society where the one rule that is never to be broken is in support of polyamoury?" I queried, shaking my head. "I do not know... I could not say. But to me, when one is married or, they are to that one person, yes?" Then I chuckled sadly, hanging my head and clasping my hands. And here I was, thinking unseemly thoughts of tearing her away from her fiancé, of how beautiful she was and how gorgeous she would be, cheeks flushed from pleasure and... ENOUGH! I shook my head harder before focussing on what she said about his whereabouts.
"He is... Caring for his nature..."
He is caring for... his nature?
There's only one nature that a man would care for that would make a woman seek out conversation in a wine shop at odd hours in the evening. A need sprouting from sexual desires.
"So... you mean to tell me that...," I stammered, not wishing to open any wounds, or make them deeper, as it were, "I am sorry...," I said grasping her hand for a moment, gently, while my other holding my glass pressed my index and middle finger to my temple, "that he is tending to his nature which requires something you cannot give him. I .... well I am sorry but in my opinion he is rather idiotic. I can understand some men's tastes can be rather.... extreme I suppose but, is it really of necessity? I mean, how would he feel if you had tastes which he could not satisfy?" I wondered, idly, if hse did, but carried on. "Would he not feel... well I would not feel like much of a man if it were me. To tell a woman that, let alone one you intend to marry..." I looked to her, my eyes finding hers instantly, easily, my brows furrowed, and I knew my train of thought was rather garbled and that I was beating around the bush.
"I will not feign to know him, or you overmuch, or the relationship you share, but, I would think that that would make you feel inadequate as a woman, as his future wife. I am not saying that it should make you feel that way, or that that should even cross your mind, or even that you should be made to have these thoughts due to someone else's selfish wants," I said backing up and hoping she saw my words for what they were -- true dumbfoundment, confusion, and anger really towards this man she would soon be marrying -- "but it would me."
I let go of her hand and ran both of my own through my hair, though one held my glass of wine, my free hand grasping a few locks as I tried to make sense of this. "And.. do you allow this? Does he know you know?" I asked softly, second-guessing my next question as I furrowed my brows and looked at her sadly, not pitifuly, just sadly.
"Does it not hurt you?"
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Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 11, 2009 10:06:36 GMT -5
It hadn't crossed my mind before then to wonder why Balta would care. Why he would be so moved, would ask so many questions. I'd caught the pause he'd given to Delaunays name - having pieced it out - though I'd given it credit to just that - Delaunays name. De la Courcel is a powerful thing, even if the title of Prince hadn't been added on. When he took my hand in his own and distressed over my situation, I felt my cheeks surge with heat, a swirl of emotions raging within me. Embarrassed, shamed, hurt... and anger, too. Anger at Del, at myself. Anger too, at Balta, for... for.. What? For prying, mayhap. I didn't know.
Tears welled in my eyes as he took his hand away again and I averted my gaze, drawing myself together. He means well, my mind whispered, and I knew it for truth. It teetered, why Balta should care, but I wouldn't let myself acknowledge it, unable to handle what it might mean. No, I couldn't. I wouldn't.
My eyes shut, and I steeled myself. Ever so delicately, I opened my eyes once more and set my glass down, the soft tink of glass against marble seeming ungodly loud to my ears. "I've said too much," I whispered at last, a full moment gone by since he finished speaking. "I.. shouldn't have been so open, so frank. You have my apologies for that."
Does it not hurt you?
Ah, gods yes it hurt! How could it not? But I couldn't discuss it here. I didn't want to think about it, to acknowledge it. I didn't want to dwell on it, this night where my secret husband lay with a woman he had proposed to before. I felt a fool. Balta called it out right; I did feel inadequate, but not for the reasons he thought. I felt less of a woman that my husband had to go back to a Valerian adept that he had loved before, that he couldn't have just chosen a faceless adept instead. The tears spilled over my cheeks, and I knew I had to leave. I had to escape this, the questioning of the most intimate parts of my life. My hand shook, and I clasped them to my skirts, no longer caring if I wrinkled them.
"Love as thou wilt, Balta. He cares for a portion of himself that I have no wish to partake in; the harsher aspects of love have never appealed to me. No, it does not make me feel less adequate for it, for I know who I am, and I know who he is." Now, more than ever before. "I knew, when I agreed to marry him. I could go to the Night Court as well, if I wished," I added, as if it explained anything. My cheeks grew hotter, and I struggled to control my tears, but they would not be deterred.
He grasped his locks. I watched, through the rippling haze of tears, as the tufts of his hair stuck out in what would be unseemly ways on anyone else. On him? It still fit, by Eluas grace. I watched too, how his face reflected his moods, his forehead creasing, eyes portraying sadness. Sadness, for me, for... No! I could not think on it!
"I must go," I said abruptly, changing my mind on what I was going to say next. Hastily I stood, my hands at my cheeks as I tried to wipe my face clean of moisture. What gossip would arise, should I be seen exiting El Parra with tears upon my cheeks? "I'm sorry, I..." A shiver, and I shut my mouth fast enough that my teeth clicked, trying to stop another onslaught of tears. Gods, just let me make it to the carriage.
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 11, 2009 11:02:15 GMT -5
I watched her face contort, her cheeks colouring, deeper and deeper, anger, then sadness, and I could feel it, like a wave, of heat, but instead of emotion, migrating out of her, filling the space we made between each other, our bubble, and then I watched as her eyes welled up, her gaze averted, and the trickle of a tear as she tried to force them back in, trying to reverse everything to go back to how we were moments before.
"Love as thou wilt," I almost spat out as she explained it to me further. "And cause so much pain?" I snapped my mouth shut just as I had said it, hoping I could retract those few words.
Stupid, stupid man I thought to myself. I should have shut up, I should have kept it to myself, minded my own business. Who was I to tarry in her presonal life, to be so curious of the events that had brought her here, curious of her love life, by the Gods, it was indecent to say the least, and not friendly at all.
But it was that I cared. For naught else, I cared. And only the Gods knew why. She was Bella, Azabel, a royal, and betrothed. I should have given her her glass, and sent her home with the bottle and a smile. Not doubt and tears. She had opened up a part of herself to me, a part that seemed to cost her far more than the knowledge was worth, and I sighed , feeling my stomach sink at how our happy careless banter had turned to heavy disheartening and emotional words. But it wasn't fair, what I did either. My emotion was for her situation, yes, but there were personal reasons, too, that made me feel the way I did.
I watched her, frozen to my seat, as she rose, wiping her cheeks, ridding them as best she could of the salty tears that had fallen, and I thought for a moment how I wanted to wipe them away, make her pain disappear, though I knew I couldn't. I was not the one who could make things right with her.
I was not the one.
I sighed again, standing as she moved towards the door. I could not, no, would not let her leave, not like this, with people lurking outside with big mouths and cold hearts. The last thing she needed was for this to escalate with more drama. If she wanted to lash out at me for keeping her, so be it. I knew my intentions were honourable.
I strode up behind her, taking two full, quick steps, placing my hand on her shoulder I turned her around, holding both of her shoulders for a moment.
"No... please, don't leave. I am sorry if I have hurt you, I am sorry if I have said something wrong. You should know... your ... situation as it were. It hits home with me." I laughed bitterly then, not directed towards her though, and I hoped she knew it. I let go of one of her shoulders, then the other, hoping she would not flee. I brushed my thumb against her cheek. It was warm, and damp, and the moisture gathered on my thumb as I looked into her eyes, glossy with unshed tears, but so beautiful.
Gods she was even beautiful as she cried.
"I am Aragonian... I know you know how.. well.. chaste, I guess you could say, we are. How we consider marriage vows, and any vow really. Not as terrible as some, I suppose but... I am sorry about my reaction it's just...," I chuckled again, running my hand through my hair out of frustration. "I am Aragonian yes. But... not fully." I hung my head, something in my heart weighing it down, shame, betrayal, guilt, mayhap all of them. "I bet you'd never had guessed I was part d'Angeline, too," I whispered, dropping my hands to my side. "I am sorry, again, for myreactions, for jumping to so many conclusions and obviously upsetting you. It was never my intent. Not one bit." I explained, furrowing my brows in earnest. "And if you wish to leave, then leave but," I said, pulling a silk handkerchief from my pocket, "don't leave crying. Never leave here crying."
I stood before her, my soul bared open, my secret out and floating in the air, and though I felt a weight removed from me, it was replaced with others. Why had I just burdened this poor woman with my lot? Had she not already shown she had enough -- if not too much -- to carry?
Gods, I was the stupid one here.
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Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 11, 2009 15:14:06 GMT -5
He forced the precept our very cultural foundation was lain upon out his mouth like a curse, like a sullied curse, and it made my back stiffen. For all I was generations removed from Anael, the scion the de Somerville line was born unto, I still had his blood in my veins and the reaction was involuntary. I listened to him, scrubbing the fresh layers of tears from my face until his hands were upon my shoulders, forcing me to turn and gaze upon him.
I moved as he bade me, my feet shifting so I could turn my face to him, his hands claiming residence upon my shoulders still. I almost flinched under it, of the physical touch that I refused to acknowledge. And then he moved again, his hands leaving my shoulders, moving in lieu of brushing a thumb tenderly across my wetted cheek. Too much, too much to handle right now; it was beginning to tear upon my mind.
I turned my face slightly away from his hand, squeezing my eyes shut. Stop crying, stop crying, stop... I couldn't handle it, the care. It was not who I was in the end, to dally with one while promised - and given - to another. I was faithful to the very marrow of my bones; nothing could change that. I never wanted anything to change it.. And thus far, nothing had. Balta had made no advances upon me, nor I him, and it was what kept me here instead of fleeing his store. And yet, through it, I was caught up, listening to the words that fell from his mouth.
One of his family members, then, was d'Angeline. He didn't say whom, or how much d'Angeline blood ran in his veins, but it was clear that he was unhappy with it. Why? What could make him loathe it so much, yet come to this fertile land? The questions alone, the mystery they proposed, were enough to make the spill of my tears slow and cease, giving over to control as he bade me to stay, or to leave, but not to cry.
I shook my head, unable to form words for a moment. So many things, so many emotions whirled through me, and I wasn't sure if I spoke that I could control myself just yet. When I finally did talk, it was quietly, my voice an audible level above a murmur, but the shoppe was empty and silent and I knew Balta would have no problem hearing me.
"I'm sorry you hurt. Whatever the cause or reason, I am sorry you aren't hale and well." Had I known him better - and had I not been standing here before him, pink-cheeked and looking like the seven hells, I would have laid my hand upon his arm, or given him a friendly kiss upon his cheek. But no, I couldn't - not now, not like this. My hands I kept to myself, but my eyes at least moved to his, not flinching anymore, not unless I thought of how horrid I must look. I hated to cry, and what's more, I hated it when others saw it. That it was Balta made it all the worse.
The handkerchief hung in his fingers like an invitation, a treaty of peace between us. I paused for a moment before shaking my head, my hands coming up finally to close his fingers about it. I couldn't accept, but.. "We may be friends yet Balta, but I need to go now. I indulged in more than I ever should have, or would have... and I know not what made me do it." Ah, Elua. It was the sadness, the loneliness, but I'd not come in here for it. I'd come in here to escape it. "I think I should go home. I'm truly sorry."
My eyes were mostly dry now, glimmering only with the aftermath of moisture, and my face was brushed clean of the tears. My emotions felt spent already - all I wanted was a hot bath, and to go to bed, and pretend Delaunay was in the next room reading rather than spending the night at Valerian.
I half squeezed, half patted Baltas closed hand around his handkerchief before letting go, straightening my skirts habitually. "Mayhap we'll meet again," I said, turning towards the doors. "And mayhap not, if my guise is successful."
A bad attempt at humor, but an attempt regardless. My mouth failed to flicker to a smile - I was not that far recovered - but mayhap he could see it in my face. Mayhap.
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 11, 2009 15:37:49 GMT -5
Hale and well I thought confused for a moment. I was hale, able bodied and well just... aye... she was trying and I couldn't curse her for her attempt to console my obvious sadness. We were not familiar enough really, though we started to become friends, we were not close enough to really console each other in our pain. I still cursed myself, inwardly, for my reactions that brought us to this, standing, awkward, saying goodbyes. I don't know why it was so.. important. Why did it feel like I was being jilted, why did it hurt to have her tell me she had to leave? Why did I care so damned much!?
She took the handkerchief for a moment then pressed it back into my hand and I nodded, involuntarily, at what it meant.
She had to go. Now.
I took a step back from her, not wanting to make it any more difficult on her, though I couldn't really tell if it was, if hse was just too hurt from other things to really care about the connection we had made here. Then again ,that wasn't entirely fair. I was hurt, just a little. My pride, my emotions, manly as I was, they hurt. I tore my heart open, bared my soul, but she was turning to go, leaving me standing here, and I don't think she understood really the weight of what I had just told her. That everytihng I built here, did not belong to me, not rightfully... then again she did not know I had a little brother, she did not know that my parents, my biological parents, were not married, that the man I called father was a man who stood in for one I did not know.
How could she, I had said nothing. Maybe one day I could tell her, make her understand. But, sadly, today was not that day.
I cleared my throat as I attempted a smile, wondering if she would take her bottle with her, hoping she did but knowing she probably wouldnt. I didn't think she would want a reminder lying about of this night, of the pain risen to the top like cream, only not sweet at all.
"Well I for one, my lady, pray that your guise is not good enough for my sharp eyes," I said with a soft laugh as I walked towards the door. "Please... May Elua keep you well, and..." I hesitated on this last part but, considering Ihad ruined things pretty nicely already, I decided I might as well be thorough. "And if you ever need an ear, and someone who will listen and keep your confidence," I said with a nod, knwoing she could fill in the rest.
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Princess Azabel de Somerville
Royal (Manager)
Her Highness, Princess of the Blood; House Somerville *Voted Member of Worst Character Dynamic 2010*
Posts: 2,048
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Post by Princess Azabel de Somerville on Jun 11, 2009 16:01:32 GMT -5
I could see it, the pain that seared his eyes, and it confused me. For all I hurt, he hurt too, and I could only discern that I was the cause of it. Somehow, I'd gifted him with the unlucky trait of my own pitiful state, and was leaving him now, to stand in it.
I never should have come here tonight, I told myself. I never should have relied on another - a perfect stranger - to cheer me, or distract me. No, not even this blue eyed, curly haired Aragonian -- look at what I'd caused for it. I followed him to the door, and paused.
It took all my courtly grace and stance not to cry again, and before I could change my mind, I leaned, brushing a light kiss of friendship upon his right cheek. "Balta.." And then I knew not what to say. What could I? I simply paused, looking at him, wondering how everything had boiled to this. From a browse of wines to tears and hurt, in two strangers; and it was, I counted, my fault. Another apology formed on my tongue before I swallowed it, knowing it wouldn't do any good anyway.
"I hope my guise fails too," I said after a moment, trying my hand at a quick, soft smile, before switching languages to Aragonian. "Hasta que nos reunamos de nuevo, bonito enólogo." I hoped we could become friends, one day. Giving him another smile, I turned and made my way to the street again, my guard hurrying to catch up to me from the front of the shoppe where he lounged. My carriage was a short walk away, and I boarded without hesitating, not looking left, nor right. My eyes felt clear, Elua be thanked, but I didn't care to look at anyone. Order to go home were given, and I turned, drawing back the curtain to look once more upon El Parra just before it was removed from my sight.
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Post by Baltasar de Cordova on Jun 11, 2009 20:56:12 GMT -5
We stood by the door for a silent moment, neither of us saying a word, but no doubt both with words that wanted to be spoken, that needed to be spoken, that we locked away out of respect, out of the unspoken rules of social decorum. Maybe it was better that way, afterall, free speaking and indulgence had gotten us here, where we were now, where we shouldn't have been. We should have been sitting on the couch, sipping wine, joking and laughing and I couldn't help but feel like the one who had ruined it all.
But there was nothing to say.
Another moment passed and she turned to me, and I waited for her to say her last goodbye and take her leave, but instead she leaned in, quick and agile, stretching to kiss my cheek gently. There was no passion behind it, and I knew it was a chaste kiss, and I would have thanked her for it but it would have taken away from the solemnity of the moment. And if I could have I would have told her I wanted more, looking into her face, a little ruddy from the crying, her eyes still bright and wet, blond hair curling and lightly tousselled.
I wanted her. Damn it all to hell how did that happen.
I smiled back, summoning all the strength I had learned to have for myself and for others, and thinking on the good points of the evening instead of the bad. She said my name, her voice barely a murmur, and it nearly undid me, my smile faltering for a moment as I fought myself, stopping my hand from reaching forward and brushing her soft skin with the back of my fingers, caressing her bottom lip with my thumb.
Where were these thoughts coming from?!
I shook myself from my reverie and smiled as she spoke to me in my native tongue, then walked out my shop, out the door, and maybe gone forever. As close knit as the City was, if she never wanted to see me again, she would make it so. I prayed that was not the case.
I watched her climb into her carriage, my arm against the doorframe as I stood in the doorway looking on, my free hand coming up to caress my cheek where she had kissed it. As it pulled away I watched, and could have sworn I saw the curtain in the window shift, but then again the carriage jolted, it was nothing out of the orginary.
"Hasta luego, tan bonita," I murmured before re-entering my shoppe and locking the door behind me. I walked to the bar, feeling drained, more drained than I had in a long time, and took a long draught from the bottle she had left.
I hope it fails too, Bella....
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