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Post by Prince Christien de la Courcel on Apr 19, 2006 19:09:21 GMT -5
With raised eyebrows, eyes pulsing with lust and a little rage and a smile that was more than half snarl I released my hold on her shift and moved my hand to her hair and yanked her head slightly back. Faster than thought I was next to her, my lips crushing hers as I growled in my throat- then I was back, my hands off of her and the mask of brooding disinterest back in place.
"I'll be back once I find out what's going on with Ambrose being awake and Sabrina wants to have a talk with Coretta and I, or so I seem to remember. Given the way I look, I wouldn't be suprised if you see my twin within the next couple days; what one has, the other must have as well."
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 20, 2006 11:20:49 GMT -5
My lips pulsed with the force of his kiss and the sudden end he brought it. I smiled and pulled the door open, “I look forward to it.” I purred as I fit myself up against the door frame so that he’d have to brush against me to pass.
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Post by Prince Christien de la Courcel on Apr 20, 2006 11:32:12 GMT -5
Smiling wryly I moved to the door and through it, trying to avoid touching her flesh as much as possible except for a hand that ran over her abdomen and hips. "I'll tell Coretta you're expecting her," I said nonchalantly as I stopped briefly, leaning against the other door frame with my shoulder. "I expect you'll relish an easy victory."
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 20, 2006 11:38:55 GMT -5
I cocked my head, fixing him with a calm and innocent look. Shrugging I said, “Well, another one couldn’t hurt.” I slid back into the room, “Have a lovely day, Christien.” I said as I swung the door shut with enough force to qualify as slamming it shut.
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Post by Prince Christien de la Courcel on Apr 20, 2006 11:44:43 GMT -5
Smiling more mischeviously I watched the door slam shut, her barbed words not even making a dent in the armored mask I now wore. It was time for me to go back to the Palace anyway- clean clothes and some water to wash these wounds was probably a good idea. All in all, it was a rather interesting and enjoyable evening I thought as I walked- well, maybe sauntered a little- outside and back to the Palace.
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 20, 2006 11:54:10 GMT -5
I leaned up against the door, although collapsed is probably closer to accurate, and sighed, contentedly reeling just a little. I quickly gathered up my things before rushing back to the door to see if I could hear any activity outside. I was now faced with the very daunting task of getting back to my room without become gossip fodder for the next year. But even that prospect barely diminished the shine on my night. I could barely believe my luck at the patrons I’d somehow found for myself. Clinging firmly to that thought, I dashed out the door.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Apr 24, 2006 9:07:16 GMT -5
I was making my way back to my room with the taste of my last assignation still on my tongue and feeling, it had to be said, in a remarkably good mood. I’d even smiled at one of the irritating brats hanging around the entrance hall – the child in question had given a strangled scream and run for it. Hah, we ought to pack that one off to Valerian. I also passed Henri in the corridor. I was radiating feral smug (I assure you there is such a thing – an alleycat who has got the cream, if you will) and he turned a sickly shade of green. He knows what’s coming to him. It’s just a matter of time. I’m going to break him like a dry reed. And I’m going to enjoy it.
I passed the Pleasure Chambers just as a door burst open and cannonball of scurrying human flesh crashed straight into me. A sticky cannonball. Was that blood? Was that some other human fluid? I leapt back, roaring curses, and trying to disentangle myself from the clumsy adept who had dared to cross my path. And then I recognised her. Clad only in a thin white shift and looking quite the worse for wear was Dominique. She was normally so exquisitely and implacably put together it was no wonder I didn’t recognise this dishevelled creature.
“Dominique?!” I exclaimed, incredulity splashed all my face and in my voice. And, then, I had to put a hand over my mouth to stifle laughter. Oh this was too priceless. And to think I’d thought the day couldn’t get any better. I offered a prayer of thanks up to whatever Gods don’t despise the very sight of me. “My my, it looks like you had a live one in there,” I drawled, quip slightly ruined by the mirth trembling in my voice.
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 24, 2006 11:53:51 GMT -5
I had spent entirely too much time entangled in men’s arms that evening, though this one was trying to throw me from him. Which may not have been as fun as the other thing, but it was certainly simpler. But it would have to be Louvel wouldn’t it? I gazed up at him through my lashes trying to discern exactly what I was reading in his voice, and making a very conscious effort not to squirm like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
I tugged at the shift in an effort to make it look a little less ridiculous, though I think I only managed to draw attention to where in clung to my flesh, adhering to my quickly drying blood, and Christien’s for that matter. I shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to wince as the graceful motion pulled at my torn flesh, “Just passing on… some wisdom.” I said, despite the voice roaring explanations in my head.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Apr 24, 2006 13:34:55 GMT -5
“Wisdom,” I repeated, raising a sardonic brow. My gaze travelled across the thin shift, noting where it clung to blood dampened skin. Our line of work can be a messy one and it’s not uncommon to be come a little be-splattered but some of the blood looked like it was hers. And she was moving with care rather than grace. Things could go wrong, even for the practiced adept. I frowned.
“What happened?” I demanded. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realised I sounded brusque more than anything. Possibly I was a little bit concerned. Just a little bit, you understand. All the same, there was no need to communicate that to Dominique, so terse it would have to be.
I shrugged out of my coat and tossed it to her. “Henri’s lurking,” I added, “you don’t want to make his day.”
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 24, 2006 14:07:19 GMT -5
I smiled and bit my lip as I took the coat he passed to me. I was indescribably relieved and happy that I’d managed to make an ally of Louvel, since he seemed to be a good one. But, he asked what had happened. What did happen? But more importantly, what could I say?
I shrugged into his coat, happy to find that being so much smaller than he it covered me quite thoroughly. Even if I did still look ridiculous. “Thanks, I’d never hear the end of this from him.” I said with a crooked grin. “I…it just…” I was not blushing, I swear I wasn’t, “Just… games.” I said with a too bright smile and an unsure laugh.
“I’ll pay for the coat if I stain it.” I ascertained lamely.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Apr 24, 2006 14:27:39 GMT -5
“You might never hear the end of it from me,” I said, with a ghost of a smile.
Despite her words, which she’d obviously meant to be reassuring, I remained steadfastly unreassured. This was not the poised creature who had expertly mocked and teased me upon the staircase – and was that a hint of a blush? From Dominique? Possibly she was trying to reassure herself as much as she was me. I wondered if her voice rang as hollow in her own ears as it did in mine.
Just games, hmmm? Well, there were games and there were games. But this was not the place to demand explanations and it wasn’t as if I cared anyway. Well. Not very much. Well.
Dammit.
“Where’s your room,” I found myself saying. “I’ll scout ahead for you. You are unbelievably badly in need of bath. You smell like an abattoir.”
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 24, 2006 14:45:49 GMT -5
I bit my thumb nail and grimaced slightly, “Top floor of the west Adept wing.” I drawled hoping he wouldn’t rescind his offer. My room really couldn’t be much farther, although it was right at the head of the last stair case. So I guess it could have been a little further.
“Truth be told, I feel rather like a battered piece of meat.” I said with a rueful smile. Though I couldn’t help but feel confident that Christien was in the same boat as I, and that made my smile a little more satisfied. Unlike Christien.
I hugged his coat close around me and endeavored to look in need of his help. He wouldn’t buy it, he wasn’t really supposed to. He’d know I was being facetious but it still might elicit a helpful mood. It’s funny how easily people are manipulated when they believe they’ve seen through the manipulation.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Apr 24, 2006 14:55:59 GMT -5
“You certainly look and smell like one,” I retorted.
She was giving me a big-eyed, limpid look … something for which her pouty, cherubic features were absolutely perfect, although, accustomed as I am to her usual expression of perceptive malice, I found it faintly disconcerting.
I sighed ostentatiously.
I knew that if I just stalked off – as she probably half-expected me to do - she’d be completely fine and that much of the posturing and wincing was entirely for my benefit. But I suppose it was nice of her to put on the show. And it wasn’t like I was doing anything else at this precise moment in time. And I could probably use the opportunity to tease her anyway.
“All right all right,” I said, ungraciously. “Do you want me to scout ahead like a spy? Or do you want to lean on my arm like you’re eighty four. Or do you want me to carry you so you can keep playing the damsel in distress … although I’m sure you’re the least distressed damsel any man is ever likely to meet.”
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 24, 2006 15:21:22 GMT -5
I swooned melodramatically into his arms, fluttering my lashes at him, staying just long enough to smile before jumping back upright. I think there’s something instinctual in men that causes them to catch women as they fall, no matter how much they might wish not to. Unless of course they’ve pushed her. “My hero.” I pronounced happily, with a foxy grin.
“Maybe you could just peek around corners as we go?” I suggested, rising unconsciously to the balls of my feet at the thought of sneaking through the House.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Apr 25, 2006 9:01:37 GMT -5
I caught her instantly as she collapsed into my arms with all the sensationalist style of an experienced actress and, from the infuriatingly smug grin my response generated, wished I’d let her fall in a heap on the floor. Possibly my training wouldn’t have allowed me. The ability to catch the occasional swooning patron comes as standard with any male Mandrake adept.
She looked as excited as a child playing hide and seek at the prospect of a devious dash through the corridors of House. I rolled my eyes. It was important that she knew just how above all this foolishness I was. “Come on then,” I said.
I stalked off down the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. Glancing back at her, poised for action, I was conscious that I wasn’t quite getting into the spirit of the thing and, feeling an inexplicable urge to play the fool, I flattened myself to the wall and arched my neck around the corner with exaggerated care, humming a stirring tune beneath my breath.
I must have looked like a complete idiot.
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 25, 2006 13:56:07 GMT -5
I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing aloud as he began to ‘sneak’ every bit as dramatically as I had swooned. He actually looked like he was, well at least trying to enjoy this. Playing along with the ridiculous situation I’d roped him into, or more to the point playing along with the ridiculous theatrics I’m prone to. Giggling madly, but silently, I crept up beside him and wrapped both my arms around one of his. Waiting for the all clear.
I was keenly aware of the irony that was forcing me to these lengths. Having two Royal patrons, who gave every appearance of returning with regularity, should have built me up as the most envied Adept in the House. So envied in fact that I’d have to watch my back. Instead, the discretion they required of me left practically gift wrapped as the latest laughing stock.
Thank the Gods that I seemed to have found a friend in the very unlikely form of Louvel.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Apr 26, 2006 8:11:34 GMT -5
Having indulged her partiality for the dramatic, I impatiently shook off her clinging grasp and signalled her forward. In just such a ludicrous manner, we proceeded through Mandrake, ducking into shadows, flattening ourselves to walls, crouching breathlessly in corridors waiting for people to pass or groups or disperse. It was madness, complete madness, and I found I didn’t mind it in the least. It was part way between a game and a puzzle. Hah, if only my teachers could see me now. Year after year, always the same conversation: you study very diligently Louvel but you have to learn to work with others sometimes.
I earned myself the occasional curious glance, as I lurked in corridors and around corners, waiting to give Dominique the all clear, but a ferocious glare usually encouraged people on their way. They’re used to my ways, and knew better than to cross me.
The final staircase, however, was busy. “We’re going to have to make a dash for it,” I whispered. I grabbed her hand. “When I give the word.” I eyed her suspiciously. She seemed far too entertained by the whole business. “And try not to giggle too loudly,” I added, wearily.
This was turning into a peculiar experience. I was a little breathless and bright-eyed myself. It was like one of those games I used to watch the other children playing. Even as child, I had no patience for pointless frivolity and even less for the inane overture of my peers. I had been haughty, precocious, awkward and universally despised – although I had done a fair quantity of despising on my own account.
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 26, 2006 12:10:54 GMT -5
I'd bitten my cheek so many times through the course of our little game of least in sight, that it wasn't doing me any good anymore. Numb to the pain of it, I was having to resort to more overt exertions to keep silent. Hand clasped to my mouth, I nodded. Louvel seemed to have waffled between confusion at our, well my, antics, and being swept up in it. It was making keeping a strait face even harder because Louvel in high spirits was an entirely new creature, and one that I was enjoying immensely.
I buttoned his coat over my form, something I hadn’t yet bothered to do as creeping at a snail’s pace doesn’t stress fabric to terribly much. But a mad dash, it occurred to me, might complicate simply holding it shut. I pointed out my door to, the first on the far wall, just visible from the foot of the stairs. And at Louvel’s command, we took off. I tried not to look at the people as we passed because I was sure I’d loose all self control at a look of perplexity and I wasn’t sure if I’d try to smack them about or simply burst out laughing
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on Apr 28, 2006 17:08:11 GMT -5
Like mad march hares, we pelted towards the door to her room. People scattered before our combined might. It wasn’t far, but I was aware that my companion seemed to be labouring somewhat. Surprised that she would be out of breath, concerned that perhaps more of the blood that adorned was her own and for a moment genuinely convinced that she was going to faint on me, I turned towards to her only to find that she was wrestling with nothing more serious than mirth. I shot her a ferocious glare. This was serious.
Wait.
It really wasn’t.
This was … preposterous.
And suddenly, at the sight of her face, I was seized by an almost uncontrollable urge to laugh as well. It was so intense that I could barely keep running and keep breathing while fighting it. Thankfully her door loomed before us and, gasping and spluttering, I crashed through it, almost flinging Dominique into the room in front of me. With what remained of my presence of mind, I slammed the door behind us and buried my face in my hands to stifle the peculiar noises I seemed to be emitting in lieu of the giggles I was far too do dignified to utter.
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on Apr 28, 2006 20:02:24 GMT -5
I collapsed on my bed and gave way to the hysterics that had been steadily building in my chest. I just laughed helplessly for a while, not even able to think at first. But then, even whilst still laughing, my mind began to work again, and began to asses the likely outcome of our little escapade. With any luck, our passing had been swift enough, not to mention thoroughly unexpected enough, to keep anyone from getting to good a look at me. I’d still be talked about, but they might be rumours instead of outright mockery.
And Louvel? Even though in actual fact I’d lagged behind him, it was probable people would twist what they’d seen to show him chasing me. It would keep him pinned as what they already thought of him, and people have a tendency to pull that particular trick of memory when ever they can.
Rising from my bed I scooped a pile of various odds and ends off the only chair in my room, other than the stool at my writing desk, which was an oversized armchair as comfortable as it was ugly, which is to say impressively. I gestured vaguely for him to sit as I dumped my armload across my desk. I snatched a robe from my armoire, a heavy blue thing that bore absolutely no resemblance to the silky ones I had for assignation. I hid behind a privacy screen with my wash basin and stripped of his jacket and my shift. I wasn’t shy, but I was quite a mess an I wanted to avoid awkward questions if I could. Hopefully Louvel would take it for female modesty.
As I carefully cleaned the worst of the blood off my form, I examined Louvel’s coat, draped over the screen and grimaced. “Looks like I owe you a jacket, old boy.” I said as I shrugged into my robe.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 2, 2006 15:25:39 GMT -5
Having mastered my strange, out of character and distinctly unseemly attack of jollity (fit the giggles, if you must), I glanced curiously around Dominique’s room. It was unsentimental standard issue, much as mine was, except for the monstrosity masquerading as an armchair into whose potentially fatal embrace she seemed determined to wave me. I prowled around instead, taking in the view from the window (not as good as mine), the extent of the mess (considerably greater than mine – except for my flowers there’s barely any evidence that someone is living in my room at all), the papers uncovered on the desk and any other personal trinkets and tokens that happened to catch my eye.
She tripped off behind a screen, presumably to perform some very necessary ablutions. I wondered why she had suddenly turned coy on me – most adepts tend to take each other for granted in the sense that you can find them washing each other’s hair and cleaning the blood off each other at the lightest provocation. I’ve never gone into for myself. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable being naked or anything, it just seems to unnecessary. Perhaps I’d bothered to cultivate a touchy-feely buddy like everyone else I wouldn’t have scars on my back from my last, worst whipping. Hah, I think I’d rather have the scars.
“I think you owe me more than a coat after that little adventure,” I replied. “But don’t worry about it. As far as second hand, ill-fitting over garments go it was nothing special. I can live without it.” Actually I wasn’t sure I could. My financial situation was still markedly dire. “Need any help in there?” I added, in scathing tones. “Any hard to reach wounds from your unorthodox assignation?”
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on May 2, 2006 16:09:00 GMT -5
I bit my tongue on a snappish retort and instead replied with a simply, if prim, “No thank you.” as I slipped back into the open. Seeing he had chosen not the claim the armchair, I did so with relish. Flopping down gracefully and sinking deeply into the soft cushions I sighed happily. He could sit on the bed or the floor for all I really cared, I was the one in need of pampering anyway.
I was aware of him eyeing my possessions but it seemed benign curiosity so it didn’t bother me. There was nothing worrisome on display, I had nothing worrisome to display for that matter. There was a fair bit on display actually, if a pile can be considered a display. I’ve noticed people of our predilections seem to tend towards either near compulsive tidiness or abject messes. And though I tend towards the latter, it occurred to me that Louvel was likely of the former type. He seemed to be handling it quite well though. After all, it wasn’t dirty, just messy.
“Are you sure about the coat?” I asked tucking my feet up beside me in the oversized seat, “It must have been pricier than, oh, let’s say a pair of slippers?” I said it with a ridiculous smile so he’d know I wasn’t actually upset. Since it was my assignation that had ruined it the fee could certainly go to replace it. Since I had every reason to expect more visits from my ‘unorthodox’ patron, not to mention his lovely sister.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 3, 2006 4:29:31 GMT -5
Her response was markedly calmer than I would have expected. I imagined her scowling behind the screen and had to repress a smirk. I was baiting her more out of habit than any real malice. Besides, I’d done my good deed for the day, hadn’t I? I picked my way carefully over the various piles of junk that wound across the floor like miniature mountain ranges, found a spot on the floor that looked at least reasonably clear and lowered myself gracefully into it.
I pulled a pair of silk stockings out from under me and put them on top of the nearest heap of clothes. And then I stretched my legs out warily and leaned back against the bed, moving gently so as to bring anything tumbling down upon me. I had an almost overwhelming desire to start tidying things up. What’s wrong with me? It’s a tragic autobiography, it really is. Adept by night, personal secretary by day. When he puts his whips down, he’ll tidy your bedroom.
“Don’t worry about the coat,” I said again, “I can always beat up a tramp for another one.” I turned my head so I could look at her, curled up in her armchair. “You’re being uncharacteristically demure,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “What are you into?”
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on May 3, 2006 5:22:56 GMT -5
Damn. I enjoy having secrets so very much that I tend to forget how much I hate keeping them.
I very nearly told him. I dearly wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t. Which meant I had to lie. Now I have no problem with lying, it can be quite an important part of my job, but I am just no good at pulling off a convincing innocence, especially not when I’m guilty. I’m like a cat with feathers stuck to his lips. I guess it’s because, deep down- or actually not so deep- I’d rather be punished for getting the canary than getting away scot-free without a lick of credit. “I’m not into anything.” Bad start. I stilled my foot, which had been drumming anxiously against the tassel of a pillow.
“ I’m just, um… happy… Because… I have enough for a trip to the marquist saved up now.” That was actually true come to think of it. A few inches at least. I thought about tipping a pile of undergarments into his lap as a distraction. But discarded the notion without, well without too much consideration. No, what I needed was gossip. But the only tale that came to mind was that the King was passing the crown, but then that too was a secret. My smile was probably a little manic.
Damn.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 3, 2006 11:41:10 GMT -5
I watched her squirm. Call it a hobby. All manner of contradictory, enlightening expressions flashed across her face, ending in a wide rictus grin. For a moment I even though she was going to spill but she evaded me. Hmm. Evasion gives an entirely undeserved impression of skilful avoidance … essentially she blundered out of my way. It was the verbal equivalent of ducking down to tie a shoelace as the arrow flew overhead.
“A trip the marquist, hmm?” I repeated, raising my brows in a faux acceptance. “Yes I can see why that would induce such delight. It’s not as if you’re used to it, or anything.”
Sarcasm. Less of a tool, more of a sledgehammer. But I didn’t care. It was all too amusing. And also, yes, I had to admit it … my curiosity was piqued. It was odd this. Caring for the details of someone else’s life.
“You are into something,” I repeated. “Into something so deep you could likely drown if you let your attention waver for a second. And I can’t imagine you’d willingly pass up an opportunity for showing off.”
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on May 3, 2006 17:20:17 GMT -5
“Never fear Louvel, I’m a very good swimmer. You needn’t worry for me.” I had a feeling that Louvel just may drop a subject altogether rather than seem overly familiar. With a more winsome smile successfully assumed I blustered on, “Bragging is a rude and unladylike pursuit. And as with all unseemly behaviors, timing is essential.” Hopefully that would be enough to forestall further questioning, because I had no where to run and I had a sneaking suspicion that his will to pry the truth from my mouth was somewhat greater than mine was to keep it behind my teeth.
“A trip to the marquist must be sweetest for Valerians I think. It’s all gain for them while the rest of us can merely bear through the prick of the needle to get to our gratification of fixed ink. It’s really not fair when you think on it.”
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 4, 2006 9:28:17 GMT -5
“Who said anything about worrying?” I retorted immediately, but, again, it was answer borne of habit and lacked for both conviction and veracity.
I was about to launch back into my assault but then I changed my mind. It had all become rather confusing. Of course, part of me wanted to know what was going on because knowledge is power and Mandrakes tend as a general rule to be rather attached to power and, for once in my life, I wasn’t an exception. And part of me was prey to a certain amount of … well … yes … however much I denied it … concern. Excellent swimmer though she claimed to be, sometimes people just jump on top of you and hold you under. Whenever adepts get themselves in tangled up in the games of the rich and bored, it’s invariably the adept who ends up over the proverbial barrel with their arse in the air.
And then I realised that if someone is being evasive you can’t really force their confidence because … because … well … it’s not exactly a friendly thing to do. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t give a damn about friendly … only it seems … I do … a bit. Anyway, she knew a bit too much about the way I work for it to be sensible to alienate her.
“Well Valerians have so little going for them you can hardly envy them their one potential advantage,” I said, letting her lead the conversation astray.
Actually it had been so long since I’d been to the marquist I could barely remember what it felt like. In truth, I sometimes found a rather clear space beneath the relentless pricking of the needles.
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on May 9, 2006 8:17:27 GMT -5
I smiled gratefully when he dropped the questions and picked up my much less loaded topic. “Well they’re the only House that gets to play with us so that’s another perk for them now isn’t it.” I said in a ludicrous sweep of Mandrake ego. I’d tell him as soon as I could, I decided. I’d have told him already if I wasn’t genuinely concerned about loosing those two as patrons, and to a lesser degree what Ignace would do to me if my wagging tongue lost them to the House.
“It’s funny how some canon traits take precedence over others. Did you ever think about which House you’d be in if not for algolagnia? I mean, you’re Court born so you would have gone somewhere, right?”
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 9, 2006 9:33:33 GMT -5
I laughed aloud at her assurance. I wasn’t entirely convinced that being obliged, by nature and tradition, to play with ‘us’ constituted any kind of perk at all. I wasn’t even sure Dominique had spoken with irony. I almost envied her such confidence.
I do sometimes wonder where fate would have placed me if not for Mandrake. I suspect all adepts do to some extent, not being cut from out the stuff life utilising identical foil shapes in order subscribe completely and uniformly to a canon ideal… as our patrons seem often to believe. The terrible possibilities of Valerian never failed to send a shiver of pure fear down my spine… not that I am afraid of pain for the sake; I simply have no wish to yield all in its annihilating embrace.
I tilted my head back so I could look at her and fixed her with my most sardonic and withering gaze. “I would be in Orchis,” I drawled, “because of my beautiful and bubbling nature. Obviously.”
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Post by Dominique nó Mandrake (D) on May 9, 2006 9:49:16 GMT -5
I smiled and wrinkled my nose a little, “I think they’d have shipped me off to Alyssum. Shrinking violet that I am.” I said, fluttering my lashes and endeavoring to look shy, or rather to seem like I was trying to look shy.
I cocked my head and swept my gaze from his head to his toes and back again, seated for all the world like a Duc among the rubble of my room.
“I think you’d have gone to Dahlia.” I said with a grin, “You’re very regal. You know, but only if Orchis was full, since you were so clearly born to spread good spirits.”
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