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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 3, 2006 11:45:14 GMT -5
Once the princess and the orange-kitten were locked "safely" in the pleasure room, I turned my attention to the hall. It was quiet and furnished as halls go. Within about 3 seconds I was already bored of the hall. Perhaps someone interesting will pass by soon, anybody, as long as they were older than sixteen, would help ease the boredom. Soon the memories and blood-lust took over my mind again...the haughty die deaths with so much more ugliness than the modest...
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 3, 2006 16:32:21 GMT -5
I had spent most of the early part of the day in the gardens, wandering as the whim took me, letting my thoughts roam as freely as my steps. Late autumn is something of a dreary time for me, as the plants prepare to hide themselves away for the winter. The leaf-stripped branches of the trees seem skeletal against the greying sky. I know I’ll miss the vibrancy of the spring and summer, although winter possess its own austere beauty that cannot fail to appeal to the soul of one who has inhabited Mandrake for long.
I took a meandering route back to my room, chancing upon quickly stifled conversations and watching with keen eyes the various movements within the House. Knowledge is power, after all. I may disdain House politics but I like to know what’s going on. In one of the corridors near the Pleasure Chambers I came upon a sight so unexpected that I could barely believe it
A Cassiline? In Mandrake? Whatever next? A strong, stern, faintly abstracted-looking youth. I ran a practiced eye over him. He was not ill-favoured but he was like the winter: hard, cold and bleak. In other words: well worth baiting.
I hailed him thusly: “Either there’s a costume party to which I haven’t been invited, we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel for adepts or you are very lost indeed.”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 3, 2006 19:58:42 GMT -5
Summoned from my visualizations of Skaldi-dissection, I startled to attention, hands sweeping so quickly to my daggers that only my sudden attention was an obvious movement. Before I thought to process his words or study his face, my eye was finding a target and my arm muscles were processing the movement they must make to kill the potential threat....and then I relaxed. It wasn't a threat at all, just another Mandrake. I almost ignored him completely, but felt a strange lurch in my stomach. It took a moment for me to process what that lurch was...the dark-haired man was dangerous. And a part of myself which slept so well for me noticed. Beauty and danger were so close in my mind, that an alarmingly pleasant jingle sounded in my ears, my tongue seemed to swell in my mouth and my blood seemed to vibrate in my veins. It was several moments before I processed his words. Baiting as his words were, his presence stunned me far more than those words did. My eyes gleamed with battle rage and something else that they had never gleamed with before. I realized this, and regained my composure...Oh Elua, I was out of practice, having spent the last five years hiding no emotion from the casualties of my sword. I repeated my personal Cassiline mantra to myself dull, drab and deadly. Cassiline again, I was able to find a response.
"If you hide a costume party behind these doors, i would know nothing of it, I would indeed make a very poor adept, and a Cassiline is never lost, only those they serve can be lost."
Then I realized...my job is interesting now. I smiled.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 4, 2006 9:01:51 GMT -5
At my words, he went from stillness to motion faster than thought itself. His hands were on his daggers before I’d even registered he’d heard me, the movement too swift, too certain, too instinctual to possess anything of grace. There was only power there. In any other situation, such a gesture might have inspired a certain quantity of alarm - even from me, although I am certainly no stranger to threat – but he was hardly going to slit the throat of a stranger, however taunting the stranger happened to be, in the corridors of Mandrake. I hoped.
For what felt like several longish moments, he said nothing, only stared at me with his hooded shining eyes. I am well used to scrutiny but the duration seemed excessive. It occurred to me that, perhaps, he was merely scrabbling for a retort. Not the sharpest flechette in the box, this one, hmmm? But there was something more, although I could not entirely pin down what. That pricked my curiosity. I stepped close to him, almost uncomfortably close, a slight swagger in my steps, wondering if I could fathom what it was that made his eyes glitter so.
It wasn’t like I had anything else planned for today.
“Never lost?” I repeated, raising questioning brows. “Well, even if you can’t be lost you can be out of place. And you are certainly that. You stick out … well … like a Cassiline in a whore house. Having trouble with your vows?”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 4, 2006 11:59:10 GMT -5
Trouble with my vows? The pure silliness of that...this whole situation made laugh aloud, and smile. The pure ridiculous nature of all of it...No, I had certainly never had trouble with my vows. But then, I had never seen such pretty and dangerous trouble before. And I would have kept laughing but his proximity was extremely uncomfortable. I had not willing let any stranger get that close to me. None who didn't end up dead, anyway. I was confused. I had never been anything but Zach...not since, the Prefect took me in, and that was twenty years ago. No, I was Zach, I had no other name. He was to close for comfort, so I should kill him. Did I want to? No, I didn't. That was the wrong way to think about it. Was he a threat to Coretta? No. Oh good. I didn't have to kill him...I liked that he made me smile
"Certainly out of place. If I have any trouble with my vows right now, it is because I must serve a young lady who is doing business here. A Cassiline has no place in a House of Pain, by free will. Come to think of it...I'm not sure a Cassiline has a place in free will either."
House of Death maybe, House of Blood, House of Rage...That I considered these to be the sort of place I would feel at home, made me grateful I didn't have free will. At this very moment I was glad I didn't have free will.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 4, 2006 14:49:40 GMT -5
I had not expected laughter from such an austere (and, I had thought, stupid) young man. Mirth quite changed his face. It wasn’t just that the severe lines softened it was something … else … entirely. For a moment, he almost seemed … no, I have no interest in men in that respect, although perhaps from an abstract perspective I was conscious that he was less ill-favoured than his airs and attire suggested.
He also seemed incredibly unnerved by my closeness. Perhaps, for all his laughter, I was enough of a distraction from his vows to make him uncomfortable. Or maybe it was something else entirely. He was a strange one, make no mistake. When I put my mind to it (by which I mean, when I can be bothered) I can usually read people pretty well. But this boy was all dead ends and wrong turnings. Perhaps I’m not as good as I think I am. Hmm. No. I am.
“For some, a house of pain is a house of pleasure, Cassiline,” I said, with a graceful shrug. “But no free will? Come come, your young lady may tell you where to go and how to stand and who to kill but why are you eager to give up everything into the care of another? Perhaps you have more of a place here than you realise.” At that, I met his eyes directly and curled my lips into the ghost of a wicked smile.
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 4, 2006 15:34:06 GMT -5
"You are not dead. Would you really rather I have free will? A Cassiline without a companion or orders is nothing but well-trained killer. And there are many Cassilines that do not even know what it is to draw their sword to kill. I am not one of those." I spat the words out with venom. But I knew the venom wasn't there, and if he could read faces at all, he knew it wasn't there either. Oh Elua, I was nervous. My palms felt cold and wet, a sensation I have only heard about. I gripped my daggers for security, all the comfort of holding something familiar and no threat of being drawn. I don't know that I could have drawn them, I was so frozen. It was an interesting sensation to not want to kill someone. I had never felt it before.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 4, 2006 15:43:12 GMT -5
His hands were on his daggers again. Did he feel threatened? From harmless little me? Oh, what a shame. Amusing as it was, I wished I knew what it was that was making him so anxious because that way I could cultivate it. Whatever it was, it was a masterstroke.
I took a step even closer. Normally this would be close enough to render me uncomfortable. As I’m sure I have noted, I’m not the touchy-feely type outside of assignations – sometimes not even then, to be honest. But I like to have an affect on people and, for whatever reason, I was certainly affecting him.
“You mean to imply you’d kill me if you had free will?” I asked, with an air of mild curiosity. “I’m sure you don’t know me well enough to wish me dead.”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 4, 2006 15:59:59 GMT -5
"I have never known any man or woman that I have killed. Why would you be any different? Perhaps if I had free will you would be dead, but only because I'm trained to have the reflects that generally if I can feel someone breath, they are a threat. That is training not will. But though you might be dead now if I had free will, I certainly have no desire to kill you." My wording was a mess...that didn't make any sense even to me. And it was also probably more honest than it should have been as well. That I could laugh at, My life is a lie..but I'm not a liar..
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 4, 2006 16:23:30 GMT -5
I chuckled, sorting through the tangle of words. “I’m not sure I’m that kind of threat,” I said, keeping my eyes on his.
“And you dwell too much on death, Cassiline. I think people…” I hesitated, thinking of Douleur and Dominique (and my mysterious affection for women with names beginning with ‘d’ – I ought to start a collection) “I think most people are stupid and hollow but I have a reasonably healthy respect for life.”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 6, 2006 13:21:23 GMT -5
"What kind of threat are you?" It was sincere question, I really wanted to know the answer too. I looked at him puzzled. Did I think about death to much? No...maybe I thought about killing too much. That was not something I was going to correct him on though. A healthy respect for life...A Mandrake...with a healthy respect for life....I don't understand. "Perhaps the day my life is something other than killing on orders or watching a gossip unfold...I will have respect for life." What am I talking about? I don't know anything about life. I know about danger. I have a healthy respect for that.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 7, 2006 13:03:55 GMT -5
I’ve been an adept too long not to recognise certain signs even, if by his puzzled looks, the other had no idea of them. Again, I let a provoking smile play about my lips. I don’t know why I wanted to keep taunting this confusing (and confused) young Cassiline. I think I was partially genuinely curious … the rest of it was sheer malice, I’m afraid.
“The sort of threat,” I said, “that makes your heart pound although I carry no weapon. The sort of threat that makes your breath quicken although we do not fight. The sort of threat that makes your senses blur although I inflict no wound.”
I lifted a hand, very slowly, as if taming a wild beast. I was going to run a finger lightly down his cheek but is Cassiline training, not say nothing of his nature was probably going to intercept me…
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 8, 2006 8:35:30 GMT -5
I snatched the hand, and twisted his wrist...not enough to break it. Just enough for it to be extremely painful. And I held it, adding more and more pressure extremely slowly. "I use no weapon, but I bet your heart is pounding. You can not fight back, but I bet your breath is quickening. As for your senses....you are a Mandrake, so I suppose your senses are giving you even more interesting information than a mere blurring. Tell me, is this the sort of threat you had in mind?" My voice was level, cold and cruel. The part of me that screamed out against hurting him seemed to have fallen fast asleep when the danger level increased. "You are helpless now, I'm sure you understand the concept. I can break your wrist if I choose. I would rather not because I have enjoyed fencing with you and it would be poor repayment for the company. But truly, if you try and touch me again, I will not hesitate."
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 8, 2006 9:10:26 GMT -5
He moved faster than a snake. I didn’t stand a chance. I had about a split second to think I’d brought this on myself and that, for the sake of my mental and physical health, I ought to stop prodding at coiled up adders with blunt sticks. And then all thought faded away in a red-tinged blur of pain. I gritted my teeth on a yelp but it escaped anyway. Not my most dignified moment, I have to admit. The strength of his grip rendered struggling both useless and unseemly … and I was not entirely certain if he would hesitate before breaking my wrist. That thought, and the desire to come out of this with some pride intact, stilled me.
Through the haze of pain, I could hear his voice murmuring close to my near. It was hard to focus on the words but I understood him nevertheless. It was true, my heart was racing and my breath issued from between my lips in gasps, but it was fury and frustration that made my blood beat like Kushiel’s wings. But I would not show him that. I remembered instead, the lessons I had learned beneath the sting of Ignace’s whip and in Douleur’s arms, stopped fighting and let the pain have its way with me.
I hate it … that it can be so easy. I opened my eyes and fixed them on the Cassiline. “You enjoyed fencing me with me?” I repeated, my voice a little ragged but otherwise remarkably composed. “And this … can it be you enjoy this, Cassiline?”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 8, 2006 19:27:47 GMT -5
I let him go and began to laugh. I gave him a friendly slap on the back, and continued to laugh. Though rehearsed to be low masculine laugh, it was still completely sincere. The oddity of it all was just so splendid! "We each torment in our own ways it seems, you in yours and me in mine! And of course I enjoy this, I never took a vow to not enjoy my work!" He was so...composed, so stiff, so critical it was truly lovely. But nervous tension can only hold so long, and I was light-headed with the absolute joy of the dangerous exchange. Let him have an ounce of his dignity if it pleased him. Feeling suddenly relaxed and comfortable with the situation was all I wanted.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 9, 2006 3:59:14 GMT -5
The suddenness with which he released me and slapped me heartily on the back in some primitive male-warrior bonding ritual combined to make me stagger in the corridor. Dignity was one thing, but, as soon as I regained my balance, I could not help but clasp my still aching wrist with my other hand. His laughter was both surprising and deeply irksome. I have never mastered the necessary amiability and placidity of temperament that allows the laughter of others to stream away like water. I just don’t like people laughing at me. It’s as simple as that.
“Aren’t you going to kiss it better, then?” I was aiming for mocking and needling … I’m rather afraid it came out sulky.
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 9, 2006 9:25:15 GMT -5
"Kiss it better?" I tempered my laughter to a mere smile. "I suppose there in lies the difference of a Cassiline and a Mandrake...I have no desire to kiss better the pain that I made an effort to cause. After all, was it not you who corrected me? Mandrake is a house of pain and of pleasure, yes?"
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 9, 2006 9:51:43 GMT -5
“There are more differences between us than you could possibly comprehend little warrior,” I retorted, releasing my wrist as if it no longer ached … but it did, an unsubtle reminder not to prod at adders. I shrugged and leaned back against the wall, watching him with narrowed, glittering eyes. “Trust me, I have no desire to have you kiss it better either. But surely with action comes responsibility as well as reaction. At least we acknowledge that.”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 12, 2006 18:26:24 GMT -5
"That argument assumes that a kiss can really heal your wrist. Personally, I believe your wrist will heal its self. And no need to lecture a Cassiline on responsibility, I am well enough aware of what I am responsible for...and what I am not." He seemed to be finding his comfort again. Though there was nothing wrong with his wrist, I knew well enough it would bother him for at least several days every time he put more than a pound of pressure on the joint. Still, he seemed to be showing no outward sign of it, and for a mere plaything of nobility, that was impressive. Feeling him shifting back to a comfortable position, I couldn't resist a little needling of my own. "What would a Mandrake know of responsibility anyway? Or is responsibility to your lovers who fill your purse a such a heavy burden?"
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 13, 2006 17:51:03 GMT -5
“I’d rather my purse was the heavy burden,” I said, with the suggestion of a smile. If he was trying to provoke me, he would have to do better than that. I watched him covertly from beneath my lashes. From his background and training, he probably thought the Night Court was little more than a playground for decadent aristocrats. Well, to be fair, it can be. But I’m used to people judging me … usually as an arrogant and grumpy prick, to be honest, so it made a diverting change to be considered a spoiled and overpaid lapdog. Let him believe what he would. He was just a boy. And I think they fit them blinkers as well as vambraces.
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on May 22, 2006 21:22:48 GMT -5
"You enjoy that purse, and I'll enjoy my sword. I'm just a simple Cassiline afterall, devout and simple. I'll take danger straight up, without the greedy mess to confuse it. Especially if you are an example of what money buys. " The insult was a total lie of course, I said it with way to much spite for it to have any meaning at all. Which made me laugh aloud again. I had said more words in the last few moments than I had in about 5 years, and it felt so strange I had to laugh at it. I had not met a single sane person since I had arrived in town this morning, and of those I was starting to think that perhaps the Prefect had been the most sane.
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Post by Louvel nó L'Roche (D) on May 23, 2006 6:11:26 GMT -5
I laughed openly at his latest jibe. Wrist-twisting aside, he seemed quite determined to provoke me. I wondered why. Probably because I’d gone out of my way to annoy him but maybe because I’d succeeded in galling him a little.
“Poor simple Cassiline, you clearly have no conception of the finer things in life,” I said. “And let us hope your … ah … sword …” I couldn’t help myself. There’s nothing like a cheap innuendo to brighten the day. “… is not as limp as your wit.”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Jun 1, 2006 10:08:27 GMT -5
I absolutely howled. So close...and yet so far. It is difficult to retain composure and laugh as I was doing, and I don't think I achieved it by even a small measure. "Perhaps you're right, perhaps I have no knowing of the finer things in life. Do you mean to school me? Are childish innuendos examples of those finer things? Which leads me to another question...why should you bother to have hopes about my sword at all?"
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