|
Post by Léandre de Guivre on Aug 4, 2010 11:51:39 GMT -5
(Timeline: Continuing on from 'Poetic Refinement')
In truth, I was not certain he would agree, it was terribly impolite, and he did not seem like the sort of man who would so willingly disregard any sense of decorum. I will confess to feeling some relief when he expressed a willingness to be my co-conspirator.
I left a brief message with one of the guards apologizing for our hasty departure, but we had some pressing business to attend to. There was a distinct possibility that tongues would wag over our faux pas, but I did not care.
I wasted no time in finding us a carriage, one could not afford to spend a considerable length of time subject to winter's chill, and I would not subject my friend to such an indignity.
"Storm's comin'" the driver informed me as I gestured for Asfandiyar to enter the carriage before me. "I can feel it in my bones. Will you be headin' home, m'lord? Best get inside before the snows come."
I was about to answer with the name of a nearby cafe when a sudden gust of wind chilled me to the bone. "Home," I said finally, giving him the address and climbing into the carriage.
We almost managed to avoid the storm.
We were traveling at a slower pace than usual, so I was more than a little surprise when the box was jerked roughly to the side and my shoulder was slammed into the wall. I bit back a curse and fought to steady myself, but the box was now at an angle, and still, thankfully.
"Asfandiyar, are you well?" I asked, wishing that my heart would stop beating a staccato rhythm in my chest. "I believe the carriage has lost a wheel." I could hear the sound of panicked horses, but I was more concerned for my friend's safety.
|
|
|
Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Aug 4, 2010 16:33:00 GMT -5
A frosty wind met us as soon as we exited, blowing my hair hard to the side, a flag of black. I hugged my shoulders, ill-garbed for such weather. I had planned to acquire a warm coat, hadn't I? Well, too late now. The chill had snuck up upon us this evening. It smelt of snow, that distinctive prickle in the back of one's throat which I remembered so clearly from my childhood.
I queried the doorman whether or not my stallion could be returned to my lodgings before the snow fell, and I was reassured in tones far too indulgent for one such as I that it would be done immediately. Not that there was much doubt in my mind as to the service at the Palace, but I felt their efficacy was wasted on a common foreigner. Luckily Leandre was quick to find a carriage, and I entered as he bade, rubbing my hands against my biceps. To be frank, I was glad of a mode of transport that would not expose me to this cutting wind.
Leandre climbed in beside me and I recalled that he had been just so when he and I took my very first carriage ride. I smiled at the memory. "This is much less unfamiliar to me than it was the last time we met. Is your home far from the Palace?" I pushed aside a curtain and looked up into the sky through the cab's window. "Ah, the clouds are so black, and the treetops bent so hard. Are you certain it is no inconvenience to entertain?" He only tersely gave the address to the driver and settled himself.
The wind rose to a howling pitch as we drove the roads, the cab rocking with every gust. The driver took the corners carefully, for wherever we turned, some face of the carriage caught the wind and threatened to tip. Suddenly, upon the lanes into the residential sector of the city, a great cracking sound emerged from beneath the cab and we were shifted heavily to the side, and I tumbled against Leandre with a surprized gasp. I braced my hands on him and the seat as the carriage creaked and thudded, coming to a skidding, jouncing halt, then looked up at him from where I was crushed to his chest. "What… I'm alright…" I breathed hard, looked around stunned, then realized of a sudden I was pinning Leandre into the corner of the cab. "Oh," I exhaled and scrambled off of him, blushing slightly. "Are… are you hurt?"
|
|
|
Post by Léandre de Guivre on Aug 4, 2010 17:35:01 GMT -5
I grunted in response. "My shoulder is a little bruised, I would imagine, but 'tis nothing severe." It was only now, when the box was tipped, that I realized how little space we had to maneuver.
"I am going to try and free us," I explained as I twisted around in my seat to brace my feet against the door and push. It gave way more easily than I had expected, and I carefully eased my way out through the gap I had created, turning to help my friend free himself as well.
The carriage was in shambles, and I saw no evidence of the driver or the horses. I had little time to scowl over it. I had heard of drivers abandoning their charges before, but I had never expected to be the victim of such a thing.
My concern was for my friend, he was ill-equipped for the winter weather, without thinking, I removed my heavy cloak and set it upon his shoulders. "My home is not far," I said. "Just up the road, I believe, we should make haste. It will take time to start a fire in every fireplace in my home."
|
|
|
Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Aug 5, 2010 2:51:05 GMT -5
Leandre kicked open the carriage door and offered his hand to help me out. Taking it gratefully, I couldn’t help but also be thankful that the accident had not been more severe, turning us over completely, or worse. I was concerned for the driver and horses all the same and so immediately looked ahead, but there was no one, nothing there. Only a mark on the road where the hitch had dropped as it was prised off the cab. We'd been stranded. I climbed out and stood in the road, hugging my arms, my breath a pale shape hanging midair before me, studying the failing light for signs of other people who might be able to assist us.
Of a sudden, a weighty warmth descended over my shoulders, and I turned to Leandre. His cloak, smelling richly of tea, juniper and ink dust, still heated by his flesh. I blushed slightly, lowering my eyes, but had hugged the open folds of the cloak closed without even realizing it. I hoped the bloom in my cheeks would pass for a reaction to the chill. "But... won't you be cold?" I protested weakly, hurrying after him as he strode in the direction of his house. I spared a rapid glance back at the carriage, wondering if this sort of thing happened often in the city, but kept pace with my friend. The air bit too sharply to ignore.
It was not precisely a skipping distance to his door, and I was losing sensation in the tip of my nose by the time we came under the lintel. Under Leandre's cloak, however, I was as warm as if I had been within an embrace. But how quickly the temperature could plunge as the sunlight faded! "It really was ridiculous of me to put off acquiring a heavier coat," I apologized, noting the set of Leandre's shoulders. He was clearly feeling the chill, though acting as stoic as a man could. "You did not have to… but thank you. Such a bad night for road accidents… Ah, my toes are numb…" I flexed them in my thin boots with a slight laugh.
|
|
|
Post by Léandre de Guivre on Aug 6, 2010 13:16:45 GMT -5
It was a stroke of luck that we had almost made it to my home before the accident, but the chill still seeped into my old bones and remained even after I had managed to unlock the door and all but stumble over the threshold. I wasted no time in pleasantries, stomping into the parlor, still clad in my heavy boots and kindling a fire with hands that were still trembling from the cold.
Suddenly cognizant of the fact that I was not being the most hospitable host, I returned to where my guest waited. "I have started a fire in the parlor," I explained, indicating the room. "Please make yourself comfortable. I am going to tend to the other fireplaces and will return shortly." So saying, I set myself to the task, trusting that my friend would find something with which to occupy himself until I returned. Other nobles had servants to perform such duties, but I lived alone and so tended to such things myself.
When I had tended to all the fireplaces, once more making living in my home bearable, I returned to the parlor. "I imagine stew would be most welcome after being forced to walk in such conditions," I remarked. "Would you care for some tea in the meantime? It will take a while to ready the water for cooking."
|
|
|
Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Aug 7, 2010 15:39:33 GMT -5
Leandre was bustling about, grave and focussed as the storm itself, the moment we entered his home. I looked about for signs of servants to take the burden off him, but it did not seem there were any people to help him here. Odd, I thought, for a D'Angeline… they all seemed to have … someone to attend their needs. Wherever else I had been, those lovely compliant attendants would have swept in silently and tended everything by now.
I leaned on the archway leading into a sitting room where Leandre was efficiently kindling a fire in his hearth. The fledging light caught dark curls at the nape of his neck where they met his collar. I couldn't help but smile at the little snowy bootprints that marred his carpets; my friend truly was a man with single-minded determination. It was… remarkably endearing. When he motioned me into the room, I kicked off my own thin boots at the vestibule, thankful to be free of the clinging damp chill of them, and moved silently barefoot to a highbacked chair beside him. I settled in it, cuddling in the folds of his cloak.
"Mamnoon, my friend," I said, folding up crosslegged on the seat of the chair with a bone-deep shiver. The flames were giving my chill a fright, if not yet chasing it away. "Ahhh, tea!" I sighed, looking eager. "That would be just the thing. But… would you like me to attend to it? To something? I feel strange reclining here while you're so busy." I gave a second little shiver, feeling the blood rushing back into my face. "I could cook the stew while you warm the house. You should make use of my skill, it's one of the few … worldly talents I possess." I chuckled self-deprecatingly and smiled at him.
|
|
|
Post by Léandre de Guivre on Aug 7, 2010 19:09:24 GMT -5
I made a dismissive gesture. "A guest should not have to toil in the kitchens." It was one rule that my parents and tutor strictly adhered to even if they were a little lacking in social graces. My father was an austere man, and my mother had not been the sort of woman who would invite a few acquaintances over for tea every fortnight.
"Besides, the kitchen is at the other end of the house, and I will not have you wandering about when you have just been subjected to such extreme conditions," I added. "You may browse the books in the library, however, should you feel so inclined. The room is down the hall a bit, and the lavatory is a little further on." I was particularly proud of the lavatory, with its Tiberian-style baths--one of the few luxuries that indulged in for the sake of my old bones.
|
|
|
Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Sept 13, 2010 18:24:56 GMT -5
Well, even if I would not be allowed to assist him, at least I could take my mind off the guilt of it with his books. Surely, as a scholar and writer, he had quite a collection, and I would not have dissembled if asked whether or not I had thought on this before.
"A…alright, if I must remain useless…" I said with a chuckle, sweeping my hand across a hank of my hair which was now wet and curling with melted snow. "It is only that I am accustomed to doing things for myself. I suppose I should accept the rare opportunity to be looked after, shouldn't I?" I smiled at him and rose from the chair, undid the clasp of Leandre's cloak and with a smart flick that cast little beads of wet to sizzle in the hearth, spread it out across a stone plinth to dry in the warmth of the fire. "I shall enjoy your library, I'm sure," I said to him, bowing slightly with gratitude as he went off to his self-imposed tasks.
Down the indicated hallway I went, curiously looking round corners, unable to help myself from investigating Leandre's den. Such a man's castle it was, all sweet-smelling polished wood and rich deep colours. I saw austere refinement revealed in his choices for the spare but fine furnishings. His taste did not resonate with the often overstated nature of what I had so far encountered in the City's homes. And yet everything was clearly chosen and placed with great attention to detail. Leandre… a grave man but not immune to aesthetics.
I found the library easily enough but skirted the door curiously to peek into the lavatory of which he spoke. My breath caught as I looked in… it was a room of marble, a large bathing pool filling half the floor. It was so like the bathing houses of Darsanga that I almost had a pang of homesickness. But that was tempered by the fact that, though I had viewed the baths, I had never been in them properly. This body of mine was not for others to see, and the Magians had made this quite clear to me by barring me from any of the normal pleasure-activities of my class. While they indulged in the hammams almost weekly, gathering with friends to talk and bathe and relax under the skilled ministrations of the attendants, I was given a small room of my own at the temple alongside my quarters where I would be left hot water in a small bath. It was nicely made to my proportions and I was always supplied with fine herbs and soaps to bathe with, milk and honey for the water, all the loveliest things… but there was always an intrinsic shame in my exclusion. An unspoken barrier between myself and others, yet one more way to be told just how… Unnaturally different I must needs be.
This large bath… I wanted so to splash about in it freely, if only to feel a little of the thoughtlessness and effortlessness of others. The simple things were often those I longed for most. I would ask Leandre if I could use it. I did not have to explain. He surely knew, with his fine education in foreign peoples, how meticulous Drujani were with regards to personal grooming. All he would know is that I wished to bathe. And maybe, just maybe, I could get a taste of simple pleasure.
I left the bath and went back to the library, perusing the shelves for something intriguing. Drawing down an old-looking Ummaiyati text on alchemy, I walked the room as I read the delicately curling script and waited for my host to reemerge.
|
|
|
Post by Léandre de Guivre on Sept 13, 2010 20:03:23 GMT -5
With my guest suitably occupied, I made for the kitchens. I did not often entertain, and ate sparingly when I was in residence, so the kitchens were not used as often as one would think. Still, I made it a point to keep order in this area of the house, it made it easier to find equipment when I had need of it.
In no time at all I had managed to kindle a fire under one of the larger pots that I owned, water was a different matter, and it took several trips outside before the pot possessed the desired quantity. As luck would have it, I found some smoked rabbit in the pantry. I would not have it said that I refused guests the flesh that I myself had hunted. There were some vegetables too, not as many as there would have been in the summer, but at least I could say that my stew was more than soggy bits of meat in brine.
I added it all to the pot, making sure to draw some of the h0t water for the much-needed tea. This task, thankfully, did not take nearly as long as the stew, and soon I had two cups of aromatic brew ready for consumption.
I found my guest in the library, seemingly quite at home among all the books. He was reading one of my mentor's old texts. I had a passing interest in alchemy, but I was loathe to dispose of any part of my collection, even if it was utter nonsense.
"It seems my kitchen is not as empty as I had imagined it to be," I remarked as I pushed the silver tray towards him. "The stew, regrettably, will be a while, yet, but this should suffice to whet your appetite, I think."
|
|
|
Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Sept 28, 2010 19:26:18 GMT -5
I had always suffered with a terrible compunction to become entirely absorbed in any written word I have not seen before. So, my back to him and nose thoroughly buried, Leandre caught me unawares and I jumped at the sound of his voice. As I turned I let out a hiss of breath and pressed a hand to my chest, laughing at myself.
"Oh… oh, the tea…" I remarked obtusely, blinking the shock out of my eyes.
"Forgive me," I chuckled, willing my heart to slow. "I concentrate too hard when I'm reading scripts that are not my own." I closed the book gently and set it on the table in the centre of the room, across from the tea service Leandre was lowering to its surface. I indicated the book with one long hand. "I assume, a scholar as you are, that you read many languages as well?"
|
|
|
Post by Léandre de Guivre on Sept 28, 2010 21:28:00 GMT -5
"I am fluent in Hellene and Caerdicci in addition to D'Angeline," I replied, pleased that he was taking an interest in my collection and always willing to speak of my studies. "I hope to master Tiberian in my lifetime, but teaching oneself a language has its own challenges. Fortunately, we Siovalese are...quite industrious...in matters pertaining to the acquisition of knowledge."
I sat across from him, taking a cup from the tray. "My mentor had a greater aptitude for languages. The book you are reading belonged to him. I once heard from a colleague of his that the man knew twelve languages." I scoffed at this. "Some, apparently, think that human minds are like sponges, absorbing syntax like water--or else they entertain the delusion that they have received holy kisses from Shemhazai himself, and that gives them their impossible abilities!" I took a deep breath, realizing that I had probably raised my voice beyond what was considered proper.
"Apologies, I do tend to become...somewhat animated...during discussions of this sort," I said, taking a sip of tea to calm my nerves.
|
|