Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Feb 24, 2006 11:58:53 GMT -5
It was early morning when I made it back to Mandrake. I earned myself a few strange looks as I sauntered through the front door but I ignored them, as usual, and made straight for my room. If I had been less tired I might noticed a strangely subdued air among the adepts that morning but then again I have little care for the trivia that occupies my peers.
I collapsed gratefully into bed, not even bothering to undress. For a few minutes, I tossed and turned, quite unable to find a position that did not make me consciousness of an emptiness at my side where Douleur might have curled myself but exhaustion finally triumphed and I fell into a deep sleep…
…only to be rudely awoken not three hours later by an insistent banging upon my door.
“Go away,” I grumbled, forcing my eyelids open most reluctantly.
“Ignace wants to see you, right now,” came a taunting voice. “What have you done now, Louvel?”
I muttered some choice phrases and a recommendation as to where the Dowayne could take himself.
“Should I tell him to do that?” asked the adept outside.
I thought better of it. “No, no. Tell him I’m on my way.”
I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes and trying, through an effort of will alone, to rouse myself. I was still somewhat bleary as I blundered through the corridors to the Dowayne’s chamber. He was sitting at his desk, writing busily. His burning gaze flicked briefly to me and then back to the papers before him.
“Louvel,” he said. “What have you been up to this time? You look simply dreadful.”
“I’m just tired.”
“You missed the meeting this morning. Did you think yourself above it?”
“There was a meeting?” My brain was moving slowly.
He sighed. “I might have known. I have some bad news. I gave this speech more tactfully to the rest of the adepts but by your failure to turn you’ve lost your right to have this delivered with anything other than blunt efficiency…”
“W-what?” I asked, dazedly.
“There was an accident. The King and the Queen were attacked. The queen is dead. The King is … insensible. Her Royal Highness, Princess Sabrina will be acting as regent until he awakes.”
Even though Ignace had not given his permission and he is usually strict about such things, I lowered myself into a chair. I know my face had probably gone completely blank.
“Do you have any questions? Anything you want to say?” He was regarding me steadily, his eyes slits of darkness in his pale but composed face.
“No.”
“Elua, you have a cold heart,” he said, shaking his head. But then he was businesslike again. “Her Grace, Evangeline L'Envers is holding a fete. She’s contracted an assortment of adepts. Against my better judgement, I’m going to send you. I trust you are not going to embarrass me again?”
I shook my head. In truth, I couldn’t afford to.
“This is not a smirking matter, Louvel.”
“I wasn’t smirking at that,” I said, meekly.
“Try not to smirk at all.”
“My apologies.”
“I don’t trust this timidity Louvel. Oh, and it’s Akkadian themed. You had better commission yourself a costume of some kind. Perhaps having to invest something in this will make you more obliging to any patrons you are fortune enough to attract. Why are you looking like that?”
I took a deep breath. “I … can’t …”
A look crossed his face; it was the look of a passionate man trying to restrain a formidable temper in the face of immense provocation. “Can’t what, Louvel?” he said softly. “Go? Be obliging?”
“No, commission a costume,” I said, hastily. “I have no money.”
“None?” he repeated, incredulously. “But Princess Phreya left you a generous patron gift, despite your failure to do anything to deserve it. What can you have done with it? Buried it? Gambled it? Squandered it? On what?” Anger and frustration coiled around him like early morning mist. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet, his chair spinning out behind him and, then, in a few floor-swallowing strides, he was behind me. I felt his hands upon the collar of my tunic and, for a moment, I almost believed he was going to strangle or me but he merely tore material from my back. The chill of the room rushed across my skin and I shivered. I felt his anger draining away with the heat from my body. “I thought perhaps you had over-spent at the marquist in unseemly eagerness but…” Now he just sounded puzzled. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
I found it suddenly impossible to look him in the eye. “I spent it,” I admitted, shamefully. “And not just Princess Phreya’s patron gift. Everything.”
His eyes went wide. “You spent it? Everything you had? What did you buy? A house?”
I dropped my head into my hands. “An adept.”
There was a long silence. And then, thunderously, Ignace began to laugh. Eventually he gasped: “Who would have thought that, on this of all days, you of all people could have made me laugh.” He put out a hand and ruffled my hair.
“Don’t ruffle my hair,” I said, with all the dignity I could muster. “And stop laughing at me. And can I have my shirt back now.”
“You are a singular creature,” he said. “Who was she? And was she worth it?”
I had the oddest fear of telling him, lest he run off immediately and have her for himself. But I rebuked myself for paranoia and said instead. “Douleur no Valerian. And every last coin.”
Ignace chuckled again. “I would never have taken you for a romantic.”
“I’m not,” I protested. “Not at all.”
“I’m not going to believe another cynical word you say ever again,” he replied, still smiling. “We’ll find you some sort of robe to wear.”
“Do I have to?” I asked, aware that I sounded particularly petulant. It’s just I hate dressing up. “Can’t I go in my ordinary clothes?”
“Obliging, Louvel,” he said, obligingly.
“A robe would be fine, thank you.”
I collapsed gratefully into bed, not even bothering to undress. For a few minutes, I tossed and turned, quite unable to find a position that did not make me consciousness of an emptiness at my side where Douleur might have curled myself but exhaustion finally triumphed and I fell into a deep sleep…
…only to be rudely awoken not three hours later by an insistent banging upon my door.
“Go away,” I grumbled, forcing my eyelids open most reluctantly.
“Ignace wants to see you, right now,” came a taunting voice. “What have you done now, Louvel?”
I muttered some choice phrases and a recommendation as to where the Dowayne could take himself.
“Should I tell him to do that?” asked the adept outside.
I thought better of it. “No, no. Tell him I’m on my way.”
I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes and trying, through an effort of will alone, to rouse myself. I was still somewhat bleary as I blundered through the corridors to the Dowayne’s chamber. He was sitting at his desk, writing busily. His burning gaze flicked briefly to me and then back to the papers before him.
“Louvel,” he said. “What have you been up to this time? You look simply dreadful.”
“I’m just tired.”
“You missed the meeting this morning. Did you think yourself above it?”
“There was a meeting?” My brain was moving slowly.
He sighed. “I might have known. I have some bad news. I gave this speech more tactfully to the rest of the adepts but by your failure to turn you’ve lost your right to have this delivered with anything other than blunt efficiency…”
“W-what?” I asked, dazedly.
“There was an accident. The King and the Queen were attacked. The queen is dead. The King is … insensible. Her Royal Highness, Princess Sabrina will be acting as regent until he awakes.”
Even though Ignace had not given his permission and he is usually strict about such things, I lowered myself into a chair. I know my face had probably gone completely blank.
“Do you have any questions? Anything you want to say?” He was regarding me steadily, his eyes slits of darkness in his pale but composed face.
“No.”
“Elua, you have a cold heart,” he said, shaking his head. But then he was businesslike again. “Her Grace, Evangeline L'Envers is holding a fete. She’s contracted an assortment of adepts. Against my better judgement, I’m going to send you. I trust you are not going to embarrass me again?”
I shook my head. In truth, I couldn’t afford to.
“This is not a smirking matter, Louvel.”
“I wasn’t smirking at that,” I said, meekly.
“Try not to smirk at all.”
“My apologies.”
“I don’t trust this timidity Louvel. Oh, and it’s Akkadian themed. You had better commission yourself a costume of some kind. Perhaps having to invest something in this will make you more obliging to any patrons you are fortune enough to attract. Why are you looking like that?”
I took a deep breath. “I … can’t …”
A look crossed his face; it was the look of a passionate man trying to restrain a formidable temper in the face of immense provocation. “Can’t what, Louvel?” he said softly. “Go? Be obliging?”
“No, commission a costume,” I said, hastily. “I have no money.”
“None?” he repeated, incredulously. “But Princess Phreya left you a generous patron gift, despite your failure to do anything to deserve it. What can you have done with it? Buried it? Gambled it? Squandered it? On what?” Anger and frustration coiled around him like early morning mist. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet, his chair spinning out behind him and, then, in a few floor-swallowing strides, he was behind me. I felt his hands upon the collar of my tunic and, for a moment, I almost believed he was going to strangle or me but he merely tore material from my back. The chill of the room rushed across my skin and I shivered. I felt his anger draining away with the heat from my body. “I thought perhaps you had over-spent at the marquist in unseemly eagerness but…” Now he just sounded puzzled. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
I found it suddenly impossible to look him in the eye. “I spent it,” I admitted, shamefully. “And not just Princess Phreya’s patron gift. Everything.”
His eyes went wide. “You spent it? Everything you had? What did you buy? A house?”
I dropped my head into my hands. “An adept.”
There was a long silence. And then, thunderously, Ignace began to laugh. Eventually he gasped: “Who would have thought that, on this of all days, you of all people could have made me laugh.” He put out a hand and ruffled my hair.
“Don’t ruffle my hair,” I said, with all the dignity I could muster. “And stop laughing at me. And can I have my shirt back now.”
“You are a singular creature,” he said. “Who was she? And was she worth it?”
I had the oddest fear of telling him, lest he run off immediately and have her for himself. But I rebuked myself for paranoia and said instead. “Douleur no Valerian. And every last coin.”
Ignace chuckled again. “I would never have taken you for a romantic.”
“I’m not,” I protested. “Not at all.”
“I’m not going to believe another cynical word you say ever again,” he replied, still smiling. “We’ll find you some sort of robe to wear.”
“Do I have to?” I asked, aware that I sounded particularly petulant. It’s just I hate dressing up. “Can’t I go in my ordinary clothes?”
“Obliging, Louvel,” he said, obligingly.
“A robe would be fine, thank you.”