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Post by Estella de Cartier on Jan 20, 2011 12:35:44 GMT -5
I was right, and I grinned triumphantly at him, letting a little bit of the cocky side of my nature show as I pumped my fists in the air playfully as though I had just won myself a trophy. When he asked what I would claim though, I sat, smiling and pensive for a moment. i truly did not know what I would ask for.
"Well, hmm," I mused, "it is only right of course that I get a prize for being correct," I agreed, "but what ought that prize be," I let my chin rest in my hands as I looked to the ceiling, deep in thought, or as deep as the drink would let me get. The barmaid came, saying nothing though she did grin a halgf-toothless smile as she picked up the coin and set down our mugs, full to the brim. "Perhaps a show of your arts, something simple, but interesting, or maybe," I said, "even though you did not list it as one of your abilities, a song," I grinned, "I do not mind if it is out of tune."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 20, 2011 12:47:31 GMT -5
Essie's carefree response to her victory drew a small chuckle from me and I scooted the next mug over to where I could take the handle carefully and lift it without sloshing any of the liquid onto the table. A small bit of grace, but it was tricker than it seemed, especially when the handle was slippery. It was one way to tell someone's sobriety, how much of their drink was in their cup and not on the side of the vessel or the table. Once people were a few drinks in they lost a good bit of fine motor control, and that could make them prime targets.
"Well, I'd be glad to perform for you any time but it's a little crowded in here for doing flips and acrobatics if it's a demonstration of my more flamboyant arts that you're looking for," I joked, then took a drink. "And it would be a shame to waste this drink by leaving just so I can do a double handspring or the like. Does that mean I'm left with the singing?" I asked with a slightly pouted lower lip, though I abated some of the woebegone air from my expression by winking. I was Eglantine, if I'd been tone deaf not even my tumbling would have saved me from being expelled, but it wasn't my favorite thing.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Jan 20, 2011 12:55:37 GMT -5
I watched as he picked up his mug, not spilling a drop, and I tried, myself, to do the same, succeeding... marginally... a little sloshed over teh side, but it was not enough that it splashed on the table. instead it slowly dripped down the side of teh mug. I drank from teh brimming lip, eyebrows raising as my face showed my exertion as I tried not to spill anymore. I took a large gulp, letting out a breath I had been holding afterwards. And then I giggled, something i had not done in a while, a full out girlish giggle, which then turned into a snort, resulting in my hand flying to cover my mouth as I set the mug down. I could feel my cheeks warm at my silly behaviour before I cleared my throat.
"Well, I could always get a raincheck," I mused, "and when we finally leave this place stumbling... well no then it might be too dangerous," I mused, raising a finger to my lip, "it seems that if I want immediate gratification, I will have to hear the song," I teased. "Don't look so down," I teased, throwing my hand flippantly in the air, "I am sure you've got some very entertaining lyrics up your sleeve."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 20, 2011 13:15:37 GMT -5
She wasn't used to drinking nearly as much as I was, and that was almost a little innocent and endearing. Most likely she always needed to keep her senses about her and that meant not drinking so much she couldn't look after herself in case someone got a rather nasty idea in mind- but yet she was doing so now. Did she trust me? It was an odd thing to see out of someone who didn't have a contract with me or perform in my troupe or live in my House. It wasn't that I wasn't trustworthy, but I knew the demeanor I put up and generally that was enough to dissuade people and keep anyone from being let down.
"I'm thinking that you'll be stumbling before I do," I told her with a grin before I took another drink. "But by that point you may not exactly be a good audience for my skills so we'll go ahead with the song now, I suppose." Eglantines were always ready to perform, at least one way or another, and I took another drink to bolster my courage before I started. The tune I picked was almost a lilting peasant's song but the lyrics were what made it a song that I remembered. The words tended to stray from what people expected, but therein was the amusement of it.
"There was an old farmer, who sat on a rock Stroking his whiskers and shaking his
Fist at his neighbors, who sat on their wricks Teaching their children, to player with their
Kite strings and marbles in the old days of yore Along came a lady who looked like
A descent young lady and walked like a duck Said she discovered, a new way to
Bring up the children to sew and to knit The boys in the stables where shoveling up
Contents of stables left after the hunt The car man was feeing a nice piece of
Straw from the stables, cleaning the walls In came the dear maid to play with his
Dog in the dairy where she did belong If you think this is dirty well your fuckin well wrong."
My tone was low enough that she could hear it but it would be hard to pick out over the rest of the sounds in the bar and I gave her a wink as I finished. "Good enough compensation for your winning, pigeon?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Jan 21, 2011 10:36:06 GMT -5
Before he was even done, well before, I was laughing giddily at teh little rhymes, my mind filling in naughty words where there weren't any, the colour rising to my cheeks from merriment, and perhaps abit from where my thoughts had strayed throughout. I laughed, shaking my head as I did, my body shaking as well. I wiped a tear from my eye that was shed from the laughter, and sighed deeply.
"By teh Gods, it may not have been a dirty song but it didn't need to be for my mind to fill in the blanks," I said, laughing again, "yes it is well worth my prize. Though now that I have had one like that I may very well want another," I teased, still giggling before I sat back a bit and took my mug in my hand to drink from it again. "You certainly are a piece of work, Bayard."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 21, 2011 11:47:19 GMT -5
My little blonde companion seemed to be enjoying herself a good deal and I smiled back at her, laughing at her expression once the song was over and I wouldn't mess up any of the words by so indulging. It may not have been my class of performance but I was nevertheless performing and I never did so at less than my best. That song was a favorite of mine anyway and something that always tended to either bring laughs, blushes or offended looks from people who didn't like to be tricked. The latter was the only bad reaction as far as I was concerend.
"Good to know that it's still a winner," I replied after taking a long sip of my mead to clear my throat and leaned my chair back on two legs. "I think you're the only person who's called me a piece of work that's meant it in a good way though. Usually it meant I was going to get a good scolding for causing some trouble. On the matter of another song though- that you'll have to pay for somehow. Where would I be if I gave things away for free, sweets?" I was completely teasing, but with her slightly tipsy it would be interesting to see what she said to that.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Jan 24, 2011 12:53:26 GMT -5
I could not help but to laugh as he roked back on the two legs of his chair, though I did blush at his mention of payment.
"Well, it is unfortunate, my dear Bayard," I said in drole tones, "that I cannot afford your entertainment. Perhaps an IOU?" I mused, "or more liquor to wet your whistle? I realised how that last bit could be taken a little too late, and covered my mouth with my hand, before giggling. Normally I would have been offended by his suggestion, and normally I'd have been taken aback terribly at my own response, but it was easy to joke with Bayard. Perhaps because he was an adept and we both knew that if I had not the funds, then enither of us would get anywhere against anyone's will. He was safe, amongst other things that made me feel relaxed and easy with him. "
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 25, 2011 11:53:01 GMT -5
"I don't know if I can take IOUs, but I can definitely work with liquor," I told her with a charming grin, hearing the double entendre and running with it though I had a feeling she'd never call on that kind of payment. Still, she had started the jest and there wasn't any harm in following it. "I'm really not very picky in most regards. You could probably even agree to repay me with a song of your own and I'd consider that even."
There was something far more innocent and sweet about her now that she had a little drink in her stomach and her blood, but that didn't mean I was going to behave any differently toward her. I may have been a flirt, a cad and a rake but I wasn't completely disgusting. "So, I guess it's your turn to ask me a question, isn't it?" I asked in a conversational but playful tone before I took another long drink of my mead and brought my chair back down onto all four legs. Already I could feel the sluggish sensation of my body growing languid from the drink.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Jan 25, 2011 13:11:07 GMT -5
I chuckled.... me... sing? I wasn't terrible, but by th gods, there would be n osinging from me this evening. I giggled, shaking my head. "I think liquor is the easier bet, Bayard. My singing, well, that might not be the best of ideas, just so that you know," I smiled, finding that it was easier to do so now that I had loosened up a bit more. "Hmmm a question," I mused. Quite frankly, I had forgotten why I was asking him questions. The whole thing had slipped my mind. I blushed, my cheeks warming, even though outwardly, he would not know why, at least I didn't think he would, unless he was a mind reader. "How old are you?" I asked, looking at him. I was not sure if he was older than I was, or the same age. I would venture teh same age, but I was more mature than my age denoted, and so he could have very well been a tad older than I was.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 26, 2011 10:17:33 GMT -5
"Oh, I don't mind the liquor so it's a fair enough decision for me," I said in a teasing tone as I leaned back in my chair, still enjoying the sound of her laugh and finding her temperament when relaxed as attractive as her former, hard persona had been striking. If she wanted to continue with the drinking I had no problems obliging her, and at least I knew I'd be able to make sure she didn't pass out at a table. Maybe I was a little bit of a gentleman after all. Who would have guessed?
When she mentioned that she didnt' favor singing I couldn't help but flash her a charming smile as the mug of mead left my lips again. "Oh, I'd bet your voice is nice enough, even if you don't like being a songbird," I said in a charming way, then considered her question. My age was a fuzzy thing to consider, since no one exactly knew when I was born or had tracked it down exactly. "I'm nineteen or twenty, somewhere in there. It's hard to tell when no one remembers your birthday. Technically I'm listed as twenty for the House though. What about you?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Jan 26, 2011 11:55:59 GMT -5
I giggled, rolling my eyes. Me a potential songbird heaven forbid I open my mouth and attempt to sing something in earnest. At least not now, well into my cups and unable to tell a song from a rant. Okay well, I was not that far gone.
"Really?" I asked him, astonished that he did not know his birthday, I frowned sadly. It must be sad to have someone decide your birthday for you. "I am 17," I said, "yes, just a little girl," I teased, rolling my eyes again. "What day have they set as your actual birthday, or do you make it a point to celebrate everyday, just in case?" I asked. It would be grand to live like that, everyday a celebration.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 28, 2011 12:04:31 GMT -5
"Seventeen isn't so much a little girl to an adept- remember, we debut at sixteen in most cases," I teased lightly at her frown, reaching over and brushing a finger very quickly and faintly over her cheek. "And don't look so sad, pigeon- I'm not bothered much by not knowing, it just means I can pick whichever age I feel like." I wasn't used to girls who were in bad moods or unhappy and I always tended to do my best to change that reaction, even if it was lying a little. At times I very much did want to know when I'd been born, but that just wasn't going to happen.
"The House set my birth for Midsummer just so that everyone could keep track for the paperwork, but I don't really celebrate it then either, though some of my friends at Eglantine do. If we come down to the Doorstep for it this year I'll be sure to invite you," I told her with an impish grin. "You can buy me a drink and we'll talk about something, or maybe I'll get you to sing a bit or dance." With that I took another long drink of my mead and considered her again. Like most girls in Mont Nuit she seemed younger and older than her age all at once, and I wondered what she'd have been like outside of this place. "What about you, when's your natal?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Jan 28, 2011 20:37:55 GMT -5
I laughed at his suggestion shaking my head. "HOw about you celebrate your birthday with me on the day YOU wish your birthday was," I suggested before grabbing my mug and drinking. His question caught me a little off guard and I shrugged slightly, not wishing to fall into a melancholy mood. My birthday was the reason I was parentless and alone in this world.
"Early summer," I replied, "I have not really celebrated it in years."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Jan 30, 2011 10:37:09 GMT -5
It was obvious that she was trying not to be depressed at the idea of her own birthday- but then she had her dead parents and that must have stung somewhat too. My own couldn't even remember the day I was born past the season, and not even the year during which that season had fallen. I suppose when you had twelve children or so it could be easy to confuse the order of them, especially ducking in and out of the jail as they were. At least Da had the brilliant idea of sending me to Eglantine so I'd come back the best burglar imaginable, otherwise I'd probably just be another pickpocket or working stiff down here on the Doorstep.
"Oh, the day isn't so much what matters to me, though knowing a year might be nice," I said a little airily, glancing at her sideways while I took another few drinks and felt the relaxation in my muscles settle a little more deeply. They must have started watering the mead a little less these days. "How about I agree to come and celebrate yours with you instead? One day's just as good as another to me and you at least know which one you'll be celebratin'. Then we can always do it again on my birthday anyway and have twice as many reasons to drink and misbehave."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 1, 2011 13:32:17 GMT -5
His words cheered me and I grinned nodding. "I like the way you think Bayard," I mused, raising my glass, "to birthdays," I said, unsure of what our last toast was for. I was beginning to lose track of not only the number of drinks I had had, but time, and some of what we had discussed. This was certainly a sign of being royally pissed. I giggled to myself, glass still in hand and in the air.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 1, 2011 17:40:03 GMT -5
"I'm glad you do, because I'm fond of it as well," I quipped back, laughing slightly to myself at the state she'd found herself in. Poor pigeon, badly fed and full of drink to the point that standing may well have caused her to fall. Sometimes I forgot that people like her could be delicate in terms of drink, so her state was a little bit my fault. At least I'd make sure she was safe enough though and make sure she didn't do something she might regret. My own drink was making me distinctly comfortable but I was a little more sure of my own limits than hers and knew when I should would be too far gone to be any use for anything.
"To birthdays," I agreed with an impish smile, raising my drink and taking a swig before I put a hand lightly on the top of her own mug to guide it back to the table before I pulled it away. "And you, darling, should watch where your glass is going, right? If you spill it that's alcohol abuse and you have to take another drink." My voice was steady and cheerful, but I was keeping an eye on her features to watch for exactly how outside of her usual composure she was. "And I think you've had enough for at least the next couple minutes. Why not talk of something else? What's your favorite color?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 7, 2011 11:45:25 GMT -5
I giggled as we toasted, though I calmed a bit as he steadied my mug for me. I could feel my cheeks heating slightly out of embarassment. Was I so far gone? Yes, I probably was, and I would have to admit it to myself. But he was not judging me, and was not chiding me, just assiting ti seemed in the nicest fashion possible. Even though I was well into my cups, I coudl still discern the difference and so I nodded.
"My favourite colour," I mused, cocking my head to the right as I giggled softly. "It would have to be violet, actually," I said, leaning forward, "much like your eyes," I mused, "or perhaps a little more like lilac, but still I am just noticing ... how on earth did you end up with violet eyes?"
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 7, 2011 12:49:52 GMT -5
When she leaned forward I held still and let her look at my eyes, my expression both relaxed and slightly amused. She was pretty well drunk by now, but it was in a good way as far as I was concerned as she was giggling and happy, not crying and fearful. That line could be pretty narrow in some though and I had no desire to find myself on the other side of it. She was a sweet, pretty little thing who had probably already seen too much in her life for the years she'd been part of the hard, cruel world and even I wasn't enough of a sewer rat to wonder about making it worse.
Her question was one I'd asked a few times before, knowing the eye coloring of both of my parents and that it didn't quite match up. "I'm not sure really," I told her in complete honesty, grinning a bit wider and leaning just a bit closer to keep my eyes on hers as I took another drink. "Neither of my parents has them, but then my mom works as a five-ducats-an-hour whore and has since before I was even thought of. There's no telling what kind of mutt I am, pigeon. I could be a foundling, a stolen babe, a turn of luck, anything really."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 7, 2011 13:03:29 GMT -5
I listened to his story, qwhincing slightly at the description of his mother.
"Something tells me you aren't necessarily on teh fondest terms with your parents?" I asked, but then i shook my head adn waved my hand, "no let us talk of good things, right? For all you know you could be part l'Envers," I tased, with a wink, and a giggle to accompany it. "With eyes like those... you ought to at least try to pass for one," I said with a smile before taking another swig though carefully, mayhap too carefullly. I was certain I was moving slower than sap and looked a fool for it. Aye, but a careful fool.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 8, 2011 12:04:25 GMT -5
Evidently it was still a little uncomfortable to her, the idea that some people wouldn't love their parents- but then hers were dead and easier to get along with in some ways and she'd been young enough and raised well enough to love them while they were alive and remembered that. "I don't mind them but I'm not going to pretend that they're saints pretending to live as sinners," I told her with a slight chuckle and a raised brow. "Besides, down here five ducats an hour is a respectable price and Mum is proud of it.
At her mention of being a part of or pretending at such an esteemed family my smile turned more impish again and I took another drink. "Maybe, maybe, but if you've ever seen an l'Envers they'd go to the ends of the earth to find out whether or not it was the case- and then possibly remove you if it seemed too likely," I joked. "My Dad had the idea before to try and pass me off as some bastard of theirs and see if they'd choke up a ransom but Mum hated the idea and they threw it off, especially after they saw how well I could do some other things."
It occurred to me that I was saying a lot more on the subject than I usually did and it was a good thing I was in the habit of speaking in lower tones in conversations. "They probably wouldn't bother with the likes of me though and there are others with the eye color. I'd rather be what I am anyway and not have some courtly types looking at me and pretending they were trying to forget where I came from."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 8, 2011 14:20:52 GMT -5
I nodded, understanding what he said. "Yes, yes I can see what you mean," I lowered my own voice, "you never know what those nobles are up to. Raping children, murdering one another, poisoning, they love their games," I mused, looking about me slightly cautiously before I leaned back in my seat a bit, nigh almost a bit too hard for it wobbled and I grasped at the edge of teh table for fear of falling backwards and everyone getting the chance to see my knickers. I cleared my throat, pushing my mug across teh table. "I may have to toast from now on without a drink," I mused, giggling softly.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 8, 2011 14:31:37 GMT -5
There were a lot of things I would attribute to nobles- lechery, deviousness, cruelty, arrogance surely- but rape? That word was, to an adept, the sickest one that could ever be spoken and made a chill run over my spine. It was the natural opposite of what any adept was. "I've heard a lot of those things said," I admitted, my practicality winning out over my natural revulsion to the idea. She was right, those kind of things happened. "But I would't go so far as raping children, at least not without some evidence otherwise."
When her chair started to tip backward I shifted my foot to reach out under the table and hook around the leg subtly, starting to steady it before her hands were even on the table and helping ease it up slowly as she did to keep her steady. "I agree, wait a few more minutes on your drinking, pigeon," I told her with a light laugh of my own as I took another from my own mug and then looked over at her. She was certainly good and drunk and I held up three fingers in front of her as I gave her another charming grin. "Think you're able to at least sit up long enough to tell me how many fingers I'm holding up? If you win I'll let you ask any question you want."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 10, 2011 9:46:28 GMT -5
I wobbled a bit, shaking my head before I smiled and sloppily leaned on my hand, my elbow making its way - thankfully - to the table. I looked at him sideways. My hair was no doubt disheveled by now from all the shaking, golden locks toussled abotu my shoulders, and my eyes bleary from teh drink. I reached out with my free hand, grabbing his fingers gently, nearly missing them altogether, adn felt them.
"Three fingers," I said, laughing, "afterall you didnt say that I could not touch them to figure out this riddle, Ha!" I mused, raising my brows and giggling.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 10, 2011 11:05:39 GMT -5
She really was very adorable in her drunkenness, like a young debutante who had broken into her family's liquor stores for the sake of entertaining a friend. It was easy to forget that she was a Doorstep pickpocket and not some pretty girl in a bar entertaining herself before heading back to her family home, a comfortable bed and sweet dreams. The pity was that she probably didn't have that to finish off the evening and could very well have no regular place to stay at all. At least she wouldn't end up drunk in some alley waiting for someone to find her for a less than wholesome purpose.
I was a little surprised that she actually figured a way to solve the problem and my thumb stroked the palm of her hand lightly in friendly affection as I let her feel my fingers. "You're right. Good job, pigeon," I told her with a light laugh, eyes flashing in amusement even as my own alcohol consumption made me more likely to react to things in a natural fashion rather than a completely posturing one. "That means you get to ask me another question." Considering her state that should have been interesting and may well be a little less than coherent but I'd do my best to answer it anyway and I lowered my hand back to the table, bringing hers with it.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 10, 2011 11:10:07 GMT -5
His thumb rubbed my palm, gently, lightly, and as he smiled and laughed with me, I knew it was not anything tha tI should feel I needed to pull away from, so when he brought our hands back to the table, I left mine within his, enjoying the warmth of it.
"Hmmmm a question," I mused, tilting my head from side to side., thinking, "Oooh... ohh Essie you are a bad one," I said to myself, laughing loudly before dropping my voice and giggling almost impishly, "do you prefer teh company of men or women as an adept?" I asked, feeling my cheeks warm just a tad at the boldness of teh question.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 10, 2011 11:34:17 GMT -5
The question she posed was a common enough one and I laughed a little more lowly, leaning slightly closer and cocking my own head a bit as I kept my hand under hers and continued the light caress. She wasn't pulling back from it and that was sweet really, but I wasn't going to assume it meant anything else either. Girls who managed to survive on the Doorstep were generally good judges of character by necessity of survival and set their limits in stone- and I had no desire to lose a new friend.
"Well," I started, giving her a wink, "The truth is that I'm indifferent. Men and women both have their benefits and downsides and it really more depends on the person which one outweighs the negatives. Too much of either tends to make me a cranky boy though, I need my variety or a partner who doesn't bore me too much. I hate being bored, it's probably why I end up down here so often." Another little bit of truth but as we were both so much in our cups who cared? I drank to relax so I was exactly as I expected to be. "What about you- which flesh do you find the sweetest?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 12, 2011 14:21:51 GMT -5
I giggled at his answer. He was so open and honest with me, not mincing the truth, sugarcoating it or trying to pull the wool over my eyes. I had asked and he gave me an honest answer. But when he turned the question around on me, my first instinct was to clam up, to lie, to act as though the question offended me. Instead, I took a deep breath, centering myself even as the room tilted hither and thither a bit.
"I have not willing partaken in either," I whispered softly, smiling a little at how silly it must have sounded, though it was a bit of a sad smile as I looked into his eyes. I wondered if he would notice my choice of words - willingly. I had not slept with anyone since that pact of nature had been broken so long ago.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 12, 2011 14:55:43 GMT -5
There was amusement in her as she listened to me relate a bit of my nature, and that was generally a natural reaction most times. I'd never been coy or even tried to play at it with any seriousness and that shocked some people with more refined or delicate manners. I could tell from her laughter that she wasn't offended, at least not while she was drunk and relaxed- but the next moment that changed, spurred by my own question to her, and I watched her take a deep breath even as she swayed slightly in her seat.
Once she finally spoke and met my eyes I understood where she put the emphasis. Willingly. It wasn't a common story down here on the Doorstep but I'd heard it before, as warnings and confessions or in dark, whispered conversations. Rape was the one concept that, as an adept, a d'Angeline and a street brat I could find offense with on all levels. Hells, I couldn't even understand how those Valerians played at it. Even so I knew I was a lucky one for all that I hadn't endured that, even while I played at Namaah's arts and gifts for the sake of things no one else could understand. The entire thought of it happening to anyone made the bile rise in the back of my throat, even if it was a common enough thing. The idea of it happening to Essie, who hadn't really ever had a chance, made me want to pummel someone or something or keep drinking until I passed out.
Neither option really being open to me or reasonable for the moment- or even respectful of poor Essie- I simply gave her a look of understanding and dark, deep sympathy as I lightly squeezed her hand. "More's the pity, pigeon," I said in a near-whisper, keeping her gaze steadily. "I can't imagine anything being worse to sour someone who could have been so sweet. Is that why you left your home after your parents died?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 12, 2011 15:47:48 GMT -5
He did not look at me with disgust, at least not with disgust for me. ANd when he looked at me, and spoke, I could truly see he cared, and it was not just the liquor. It was something, perhaps a belief, deeply ingrained in him. When he squeezed my hand, I bit my bottom lip as I attempted to will the tears not to start, even as I felt my eyes burn with the promise of it. I cleared my throat, letting my head fall slightly as I tried to hide a tear that happened to slip past. My lower lip quivered, and I squeezed his hand a little harder, hoping to gather enough strength not to break down into tears, yet again. I sniffled softly, clearing my throat again as I shook my head and then laughed softly.
"Ugh," I sighed, "really I have to stop all this blubbering about." I said, not answering his question as I tried to stop myself from crying. For the time being, it helped. I closed my eyes and nodded. "Yes... I figured I really had no choice. I couldn't," my voice broke, squeaked, showed how weak I was but I pressed on, "I couldn't really endure it any longer."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 12, 2011 16:08:27 GMT -5
She obviously didn't talk about this a good deal, but then who would? It's not the kind of thing you generally bring up in conversations and likely the only reason she had now was because of the alcohol and that she trusted me a bit. Then again the fact that she trusted ME probably said a lot considering how hard it was for others to do so and probably contributed to the fact that I now wanted to beat senseless anyone else who may have had the same idea as this person from her past did. Not that I exactly had the opportunity but if I had I may well have.
"You can blubber as much as you want, it doesn't hurt me any," I told her in a matter-of-fact tone and took a napkin to slowly and very gently wipe the tears off of her cheek with my free hand, leaving the other where she could squeeze it to her heart's content. She was a slight little thing and I doubted she could have really hurt me with such a simple motion if she tried. "I'm a little sick that someone in your own household would do such a thing though. And people call MY kin the dirty, disgusting ones. At least we don't let people hurt children."
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