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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 12, 2011 21:20:56 GMT -5
He reached out with anapkin, and though the napkin was rough, as it should be, not being in some lovely place in the Palace district, his gentle touch made it seem soft, smooth, and I let him wipe the tears from my face. I sniffled once, drawing my eyes back up to his, no doubt the shame could be seen on my face. It was not my fault, but he had made me believe it was, and it seemed a small part of me still believed it even if I tried to dispell it, tried to shake it all these years, it was still there. I had built a wall around it, but here, with Bayard, swaying from drink, and talking of our lives, the walls started to crumble as they never had before. He was seeing a side, the gentle side, the little girl that I had locked away and vowed never to reveal again. I took a deep breath, keeping my hand in his, still squeezing it until I realised that I was and I loosened my grip, but still held his hand.
"It is true. It does not matter the name you hold, the title, the estates and land, that does not make a good person, it does not make a gentleman," I took a deep breath. "It was my brother. My older brother. After our parents had died the resentment he held against me growing up, me being the little one, the cherished one, came out, and the pain from our parents' death... it just compounded his hate for me. Afterall, they died trying to make me happy," I sniffled again, but the tears stopped falling, stopped threatening to fall as I told my story. "De Cartier... my last name," I whispered. I had not said my own name for years, and it sounded so foreign on my tongue, like speaking another language. "And so he sits in our lovely home, with all the title and the funds he could ever need, while I sit here. He probably thinks me dead, would never think to see me again," I said softly, feeling a bit of anger roil in my belly, heating my blood, hardening my features. "One day.... I may very well kill him," I said softly again. I shook my head, laughing softly. "Though I probably would not succeed. Men like that... people like that... they're monsters. They make you believe you are so small, insignificant, like you deserve it, and for a while I believed it, until I decided I needed to leave," I explained. "You.. you probably don't want to hear all this," I said, laughing, sounding slightly unhinged, "I'm sorry to bring this all down on you... I've never told anyone before."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 12, 2011 21:51:04 GMT -5
I could only sit and listen to her story, watching the emotions that crossed her face and bringing the napkin back once the tears had stopped and setting it on the table and my thumb lightly stroking her hand as her tale poured out. Her voice was unsettled, younger than the harsh tones she'd used earlier and that touched me. The oldest sins in the newest ways, but they were still the oldest sins and horribly sickening to think on. Maybe it was the alcohol in my veins that brought out some part of my character I hadn't known previously or maybe I just had more of a soul than I thought but I couldn't stand the thought of her thinking on this matter in this way any longer.
Once she'd stopped I simply watched her for a moment, the grief and remembered terror and rage that had alternately shaped her features. And she, who had the pain of telling the story, was sorry that she burdened ME with it? "I can stand to hear it because you can stand to say it," I told her sincerely, my expression frank and open. "And I understand it. If you want to kill him when you're strong enough I think anyone who would try to stop you is heartless because your brother is a bastard and what he did is the greatest killing offense and sin we know of. He should be punished, but I don't want you to be punished for doing the deed yourself unless you completely mean to get away with it." Instead it would be better for me to drop the name to a few people and see what could happen. The name de cartier wasn't that common, especially not if you had a bit of a location and a history to work with and there was something to be said for being the son of a man who controlled a gang of burglars and thugs.
Raising my hand I slowly brought it to her face and brushed some hair behind her ear, then shifted a little closer to her and carefully hugged her. Nothing intimate or extreme, not even a fast motion, but I gave her all of the comfort that I could. "And I want you to know, pigeon, that you're not small or weak and you're not worthless. None of it was your fault. Your parents loved you and not him and now it seems like that was for a damn good reason. Your brother isn't really even human, no one who can do those things is, and he was angry at you for being a decent person. You never deserved it, he used you, and if he was here I'd likely kill him myself for it all."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 13, 2011 0:19:19 GMT -5
Bayard understood me, and did not judge me. In fact, Bayard judged him, calling him the ill-doer which he was. He reached forward, a slow, cautious motion, and placed his arms about me, hugging me. He was so warm, and I could feel that he was strong, even if it was that sort of wiry strength that did not make a man have overly broad shoulders, or a wide expanse of a chest. He was still strong, lithe, and warm as he held me, and I found it comforting instead of disheartening, annoying as I normally would have. And I wasn't so sure it was the liquor anymore, keeping me loose and happy, that made me feel this way. I was pretty certain that it was Bayard himself, and rather certain that I would still feel the same way once the fog from the liquor had cleared. I hugged him back, putting my own arms about him, a little ashamed that I probably did not smell the prettiest, and wishing now that I had made myself look prettier. I held him to me, reveling in the warmth, the comfort of a friend, so much like the comfort of a beloved family member who wanted to see no harm come to you. His words as he held me made me smile, and then laugh, my shoulders raising and falling as I giggled. I did not want to pull back, it was so comfortable just being here, but I knew it would look odd if we just sat here, hugging around the table. I pulled back just slightly and smiled.
"Well, not without me you wouldn't," I jested, laughing. "I may confront him one day, when I have more of the skill required, but right now, I just need to heal, and this is doing me a world of good, truly it is."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 13, 2011 10:38:34 GMT -5
I'd never expected Essie to be the kind to cling and she really didn't- but she relaxed more and accepted the affection and that softened me a bit more toward her. How sad it was that a girl who could have been a noblewoman, adept or anything else she wanted seemed to soak up a small gesture from a tumbling gutter rat like me? Even still she relaxed and seemed to melt against me slightly and I lightly stroked her back as she did so. It wasn't a long hug but there was a sense of closeness to it and I could tell that she actually trusted me and I had the uncomfortable sensation that she really deserved someone better to trust.
On the other hand I was an adept too though and once she'd pulled away a bit I stepped around the table a bit closer to her and pulled my chair over with my foot before I sat back down at a more accessible distance than across the table. Personally I thought the most healing thing for her could have been the chance to let her stab her older brother to death while someone else held him down but I knew that was the Doorstep Bayard's thinking, not the adept. We had other ways to heal and soothe, not that I would guess her to take to that road easily. Or ever. Nor should she have to.
"Well, you could always start training, I don't see you having a problem learning to be a little more fearsome," I teased lightly, pulling my mug back over to me and taking a drink as I met her gaze again. "You should do that even with the healing, it's never a bad thing to know that you can keep yourself safe. For actually being healed- well, there's stories of that , and ways that the Balm adepts perfected, but that's a path you'd have to choose for yourself, sweets." She deserved the right to try and play her life with the cards she'd been dealt, but hopefully she didn't get herself more hurt. It was an idea I just couldn't stomach.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 13, 2011 11:00:52 GMT -5
When the hug was over he raised to his feet, pulling his chair so he could be situated closer to me instead of all the way at the other end of the table. I smiled, happy that he did. His hug had made me feel well... normal, like a human, like someone who was cared for, and had left a smile on my face. When he spoke of training I nodded. I had already started undergoing training with X that would help me. Being better at slight of hand required more strength and agility, and those were the things I would need too if I wanted to confront my past and potentially take it down with force. I could tell, from his words, his tone, that he cared, and wanted me to be able to fend for myself if ever I needed to again. And it was true. THat was not the only hurt I had ever experienced. I had not yet even told him about the time I had been caught, and by the wrong man and the heinous scar it had left.
"True," I murmured, "I have started training, though for other reasons - mostly to be a better thief," I laughed softly, "and... though I have been given the funds to go the Balm... I do not know... I just do not feel... right about it. They may show sympathy, but I don't think someone there will ever understand me and even have me as relaxed as I am now," I said with a soft giggle. "And I doubt asking to be blazing drunk before we begin would be a good idea, and I doubt that if I asked for your presence they'd allow it either," I mused, being honest with my words, certainly more honest than I would be were we not well into our cups. "Call me crazy Bayard, but I trust you. Really I do. You... well you get me."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 13, 2011 11:34:41 GMT -5
As glad as I was that she was getting some thieving training, which was good overall for improving strength and flexibility, I knew for myself that it wasn't nearly as good as simply knowing how to throw a punch at times. That was something she might pick up from whoever was training her, though some of those 'teachers' had ulterior motives of their own, especially for taking a pretty female student. She may not have thought of herself in those terms, in fact she likely didn't, but that didn't mean other people wouldn't.
The fact that she had the funds for Balm surprised me a bit- but then there were a lot of ways for someone with a brain to get money if they wanted something. "I don't know, the Balms have a pretty good reputation for relaxation with all of the massage and tea," I joked lightly, eyes flashing slightly. It wasn't exactly my way of relaxing but I couldn't contradict that it was one way. "They'll probably get a little miffed about the drinking and having an Eglantine being part of the secret though. You should go where you're comfortable, especially for something like this."
Her mention of trusting me widened my eyes for a moment but I took another long drink before I gave her a grin. "Most people would call you crazy for trusting me, this much is the truth, pigeon," I told her with the drawl of my origins in my voice. "But those aren't knowing about what's going on down here, are they? To hells with what they think and you do what you want, it's not like you haven't earned that right." Reaching over I brushed another strand of hair behind her ear and let my fingertips lightly brush her cheek on a whim, meant as an affectionate gesture. "And in truth, don't be telling, but I like your trust. It's no fun trying to be good and no one noticin'."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 13, 2011 12:02:12 GMT -5
I giggled at his joke. Really, tea and incense and soothing words were not always what helped, and though it could help for a time being, I needed someone who felt real to me,somehow who knew more than my name and my issues, and understood where I came from. I couldn't say that a Balm could not do that, but I would not want to waste good coin on one and then find it really wasn't for me. And as much as I hid that child part of me, I knew it well, and I knew my stubbornness well, and over all these years, Bayard was the only one who was able to penetrate it and not hurt me, not have me angered or untrustworthy.
"See? Then it would certainly not be the house for me. I need.. something fun, and someone who will be tender when it requires it, and just... real," I explained. Then I listened to him and had to giggle. "To hell with them, what do they know indeed! Others may think me foolish, but I think myself wise. You've naught to gain from telling me lies, and the thing is, I can tell you don't wish to gain anything, and you've been honest with me, even blatantly so. Some other peole might find it... I do not know... but I am thankful for it. Being a thief, you have to feed people so many lies, and endure lies coming back at you. It is nice to feel safe telling the truth for once." His fingers brushed a stray hair, and lightly touched my skin, which made me smile. I ducked my head a second, still smiling as I raised my eyes, giggling softly. His words only comforted me, and made me smile, and the thing was he was just being himself, I could tell, and not forcing himself to be this way for me. "And I like that you trust me enough to be honest with me," I said, still grinning, no doubt rather foolishly. I noticed the swaying had slowed a bit, and I reached for my mug to take a small sip.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 13, 2011 13:00:02 GMT -5
"Well, unless you're going to Mandrake most adepts will probably be nice to you, at least for the right amount of coin," I joked, knowing that's what she didn't want and using that knowledge to try and continue to make her laugh. I wasn't an Orchis to always work for the amusement of everyone around me but I did know how to entertain and her giggles and smiles were such a contrast to that harder edge of her personality that I enjoyed uncovering them. "Not that I'd know too much about them. That's one taste I haven't had and I like my pretty skin without it being damaged."
A bat of my lashes as she raised her mug showed the good-humor in my words and I took another drink as she did, noting that she seemed to be a little more steady as she picked up her mug and that her swaying had decreased a bit. Not that it wouldn't be back but I was glad she wasn't going to be sick or completely forget all of this conversation. That would have made things a bit awkward. "You know, I really like your sense," I told her with another wink once I set my mug back down, cocking my head slightly and continuing to stroke my hand through her hair. I wasn't exactly sure why I was, but I did know it sent a nice tingle up my arm. "And I'm glad I can be honest with you too, it seems fitting, and that I can make you feel safe. That's not something I often hear."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 13, 2011 19:35:46 GMT -5
I giggled as he joked about the adepts, the thought of a Mandrake sending a chill through my body... a bad one, though it did not show, nor did it unsettle me too much. I just knew that that would be a house I would never venture to.
"Well, now you get to hear it from me, and you had better get used to it," I said with a wide grin, finding that I leaned into his touch, his fingers caressing through my locks. It did not bother me, not at all, in fact I welcomed the touch, and was glad that it was his hand and not someone else's. I was fair certain if it were someone else's I would have attacked it with the nearest sharp object.
"So, are all adepts completely unmarred? I mean... even Valerians?" I asked, pondering, feeling my scar its, my fingers going to it absently, caressing it outside of my gown and cloak.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 13, 2011 20:19:06 GMT -5
She seemed more sober at this point and yet she still relaxed slightly under my touch, enough that she almost seemed to be anticipating and leaning toward it. Maybe speaking of her past really had done her some good, or maybe she'd just been without true comfort for so long that she craved it without even knowing it- but those weren't questions I pondered on for too long. Right now she seemed to enjoy this and I, ever a creature of the present, was willing to give that to her. I understood the craving for connection and contact too much to try and deny it to her so long as it wasn't doing me any damage, and through my own drunkenness I had somehow started to enjoy it as well. "Feel free to say what you want, pigeon. I have no intention of stopping you from that."
Her next actions drew my attention well, as did her question, and I simply nodded. "I don't know much about Valerian but I know that they at least debut without any kind of marks," I told her honestly, continuing to stroke her hair and shifting slightly to face her more. "And then they take a lot of care to make sure that anything they do leaves as few marks as possible, just like all adepts. If we get hurt in a way that doesn't heal without leaving a trace we're out of work. Did you get a scar in your time on the Doorstep?" Of course her brother's earlier actions could well have marred her in much less visually obvious ways and those likely could have stopped her from ever being accepted into a House as well but that was not a topic for a place like this. It wasn't even something I wanted to think on or the sick anger would probably rise up again.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 13, 2011 21:46:06 GMT -5
I smiled as he accepted it and giggled too, turning my head slightly so that his hand fell to cares my cheek before turning back towards him. I felt my cheeks warm, wondering if it at all made him uneasy, which made me giggle again. I knew most people I had interactions with tried not to make me feel uneasy, but here I was worrying about someone else. I listened to him as he explained the life of an adept, and when he asked his question I nodded. I pulled back just a moment, not letting his hand fully part from my locks, and undid my cloak, just enough that I could lean closer to him and pull it back, pulling back my dress as well to show him the beginning of the scar that crossed over my shoulder, and collarbone to mar the upper portion of the side of my breast.
"A bit of bad luck, and an angry, drunk man with a knife. I needed a lot of help to get nursed back to health," I explained. "I nearly died. No one said anything about it once I started showing signs of recouperating, but I knew it, I felt it. There was a moment, I swear it, where I could have chosen to give up, and it would have ended, but I did not, something inside me wanted to fight," I explained, and then chuckled. "It seems you've gotten my entire life story out of me in one night."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 13, 2011 22:19:33 GMT -5
What could have been going through her mind as she flushed slightly and giggled was beyond me, but then she was still probably pretty tipsy and that made all kinds of reactions come out of nowhere. She'd turned a bit more toward my caress, allowing my palm to brush her cheek for a moment in an almost girlish show of either enticement or affection but I was hesitant to decide which one it was- both because of our earlier conversation and because I was a bit drunk myself. I let the pleasure of it show a bit in my smile and gaze as I watched her though, encouraging but not pressing. If the girl didn't want to live forever in the shadow of her past I couldn't blame her there; not many would say they did.
The scar she showed was an angry thing and considering the part of the body it seemed to cross there was no wonder it had ended up like it had. That part of the body had a lot of movement to it and that made it easier for the skin to slip- something that a tumbler and contortionist had to watch out for, and I'd spent a lot of time being careful to avoid getting any wounds on myself for just that same reason. "It may fade in time, depending on how old you were when it was done," I said, continuing to stroke her hair and sympathetic but not at all disgusted by the fact she had the scar- though that someone had given her one was enough to make my eyes flash in another moment of anger. "It doesn't surprise me that you fought to live though either. There's a lot you need to do before I think you'll ever slow down."
In a move perhaps motivated by her earlier statements and acceptance of touch, or maybe my own drunkness- or even all of the above- my hand in her hair traced down behind her ear as light as a breath and just barely brushed the scarred skin that started at her collarbone. "I think this is a badge of honor, really. It shows what you can survive, like a marque. You paid for it with your blood and the fight for your own life, where's the shame in that?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 14, 2011 10:50:16 GMT -5
He smiled at me as his fingers stroked my cheek, and I felt more heat rise to them. I had never bee like this before, and it both scared and intrigued me. Scared not because of who it was, but what it meant for me, for my own changes, and how they seemed to be happening rapidly. His voice and wods were soothing, and encouraging. I shivered, just slightly at the caress of his fingers behind my ear, and the way his finger tips traced the scar that was left on my collar. His touch was warm, not cold, and left a slight tingling sensation that did not unnerve me but seemed to make me relax even more.
"Thank you," I murmured softly, not pulling away or flinching when his fingers touched me. "I always thought that it just made me appear ugly. A part of me was happy for it becaue I figured it would help men stay away from me if ever they got any ideas into their heads," I said with a laugh. His words had turned something I once thought hideous into something beautiful, something of strength. "How do you do that?" I asked, chuckling.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 14, 2011 11:20:09 GMT -5
I could have almost sworn that she eased even more under my touch and that was somehow a disconcerting notion- not because of her, but because I was more used to riling people up than settling them down. Generally I liked that reaction too, but with her though I was glad that she could trust someone, even if it was me, and that she could still endure a touch without flinching. I was a glutton for pleasure and sensation even while I enjoyed the absence of thought drinking and some drugs brought to me- and maybe one day she'd be healed enough to fully appreciate the former concept as much as the latter.
"Sweets, that scar of yours isn't likely to scare too many people off, especially when it's hidden by clothing most of the time," I told her in a slightly jesting tone with just the hint of a laugh. "A pretty face and form overcome things like that without even a second glance. If you want to keep people away you'll have to do more than just think badly of yourself and keep a scar because if it didn't work for me it's probably a pretty loose strategy. A knife would be better in the long run, and learning to break a nose or two." Her next question threw me for a bit of a loop and I cocked my head a bit, my fingers moving back up over her neck to the nape and stroking there lightly. "Do what?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 14, 2011 11:26:05 GMT -5
I laughed. He did not know tha tthis was probably the cleanest I had been in a while. Normally I would wear ragged dresses, layer them to look more portly, my hair would be dulled by dirt, my face too, and it really did help to make me look unappealing, but since I had met X that all changed, and I started to look after myself better becasue then I would blend in better as well. His fingers travelled back up, reaching behind and under my locks, his fingers gently caressing the nape of my neck. I smiled, then giggled.
"Well.. how do you turn everything that could be ugly into something that is so beautiful. And how do you make sense of everything so easily. And how do you make it so that I'm not afraid of you," I asked. That last part came out without my thinking, and I could feel my cheeks warming, adn no doubt colouring. "Not that I should be but... well you understand. And no, its not just because I've had a few many cups of ale."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 14, 2011 11:49:09 GMT -5
There were a lot of questions there, but all of them were the kind asked by girls and not by killers or thieves and that was probably a good sign. A career was supposed to be different from someone's nature and it was becoming more and more obvious that for all of her hardships Essie's toughness was a demeanor she kept for the sake of survival. Whatever soul or spirit she had they'd been shaped by her experiences, not killed or warped by them. It was a good thing too, because those with the purest hearts tended to become the worst sinners themselves when they lost their own way.
"Whoa, let me answer those in order, pigeon, so's I don' get confused," I told her, eyes flashing a bit with mirth and a slight tingle of pleasure moving up my hand where it rested on the nape of her neck, soft and smooth. "I guess I have a selective memory when it comes to whether or not something should be ugly. I tend to explain things so a simple street-rat like me can remember and understand them later without more troubles, and I've seen enough to have a perspective. For the last- maybe it's because you know it's not my job to hurt people and that I have a Doorstep sense of justice mixed with an adept's outlook. And it's easy to say that you're not saying that because you're drunk so long as you're drunk, sweets." Nevertheless my fingers continued over the nape of her neck lightly, as she seemed to enjoy it.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 14, 2011 12:37:04 GMT -5
I stuck my tongue out at him before laughing.
"So matter of factly, and here I thought you were going to claim some sort of magic," I teased, laughing again. "You are the most comfortable I have felt with a person in a very long time," I said, though it probably told in my demeanor and how it ahd changed from when we first met this evening. "It... it feels good to not be so angry, or so frsutrated, or threatened. It fels good to ... to be myself again," I said, coming to the realization just now as I spoke teh words. I pondered for a moment, in silence, at how important they were. Some people could say things like that to just about anyone, but not me. I had not been myself, let my walls down for anyone before this. I raised my cup, and with a grin, I said, "I thiknk I have found somethign else to taost to." His hand remained where ti was, and I rather liked it, did not turn from it. I knew he was not out to get coin, nor was he out to get up under my skirts. He was showing me affection because he wanted to, and I found that i was glad he felt I deserved it, and that he did not push and did everything with ease.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 14, 2011 13:40:21 GMT -5
When she stuck out her tongue I repeated the gesture right back and grinned impishly at her laugh- but her words actually set me aback a bit. I'd heard other people say they trusted me, but they were other tumblers or patrons or other adepts with secrets, not people who really had a reason not to trust me. Generally I was the cherubic trickster, the troublemaker who managed to slip free of getting into actual trouble by my wits and tricks alone, not whoever Essie was seeing right now and that was both flattering and slightly discomfitting. As much as she believed in me I had no proof this wasn't some whim of my mercurial nature and a lot of drink and the idea of letting her down made me feel more dismayed than I could remember in a long time.
Not that I let any of that show, of course. Sometimes it was nice not to think too much about what was going on and this was one of those times. I'd sort through this later. "For all I know you may be right, but last I recall I was only an Eglantine tumbler and troublemaker with a past that most nobles would shudder at," I told her with a rakish grin, my fingers moving just a bit higher into the back of her hair before stroking back down to the top of her back. "So long as you're not looking to bite my head off anymore I'll call it a blessing though. You seemed fit to stab me when you first saw me, not that you probably don't have reason to. What's your new toast though?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 14, 2011 13:46:44 GMT -5
I grinned. "Oh I don't doubt you're a trouble maker. Afterall, you did filch some coin from that man," I whispered, leaning closer to him as though sharing confidence. "But that's the thing, I do not find it a bad trait, and well as you can see we've all got sordid pasts, and I certainly am not going to judge yours. And the toast," I mused, "will be to being able to be ourselves.I bet there is more to you than meets the eye and even more to you than I see now, but I'm not afraid of unravelling it."
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 14, 2011 13:58:45 GMT -5
"Oh, I don't doubt that I had a less sordid past than you did but we all have our secrets, sweets," I told her in a confidential tone of my own, taking another drink and finding my mug almost empty. Maybe I'd have to get another one and buy her the next after she'd finished because I was starting to feel distinctly too sober for all of the anger I still remembered from just a few minutes before. "But if you want to hear it I'll tell you, that's not a bother at all. I just don't want to add 'boring' to the list of traits you've given me so far."
It was easier for me to charm my way through situations than to be utterly sincere, but I was far enough drunk that it blended together into a sort of flattering honesty. "And I'm more than glad to see that you don't mind unraveling me a bit, since I've seen what a good effect it has on you. So cheers to the lady's toast and here's the wish for many more chances to speak and learn." With that I took one last, long drink and then set my mug down as quietly as I could but still hearing the slight bang of it against the table.
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 14, 2011 14:12:46 GMT -5
I nodded at his words, laughing again.
"Here, here!" I blurted out, not really a shout, but it was close enough. i ducked my head and took a long drought from my mug before setting it down slowly. I laughed as Bayards hit the table with a bit of commotion.
"Oh please, I doubt you could ever be boring. but if I feel the word threatening to enter my description of you, I will give you fair warning." I giggled then, lookin gat his empty mug, though mine was still half full. "And how are you holding your cups, my lord?"
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 14, 2011 15:18:49 GMT -5
"I've been more drunk before but pushing where I am right now may not be a good idea, what with having to sneak back in through my window," I told her with a wink, eyes flashing a bit as I leaned my head back against my chair and let it loll sideways to look at her, my hand on her neck not stopping though. "And I promise to use all of the storytelling skill I've gleaned between tumbling practices to make sure you stay amused, sweets. If I start to ramble just remind me or something because- well, being drunk and all."
Laughing lowly I considered where to start, then smiled slightly. The beginning was always the place, but she knew a part of that. "I already told you I don't know when exactly I was born, but there's a reason for it, see. Right afterward my Mum and Dad went to the lock-up again. They was always in and out for the sort of things people do to make money on the Doorstep and sometimes when they wasn't good enough they got caught. My older brothers and sisters and I had some relatives that would half look after us, wait for our parents to get out, then we'd do what we wanted again. That went on for a good number of years."
The room was still a pleasantly drunken haze but I was careful to keep my voice low so that it would take real effort to be overheard, especially with us sitting so close and my street accent getting a bit thicker. "See, my dad was always the mastermind, and as I grew up I was small, but I was quick and lithe. At first he wasn't sure about me, purple eyes and all, but then he got another idea and he made sure that I didn't ever get hurt too bad. He wanted to shuffle me off to Eglantine and let them teach me everything, that way I could be the best burglar the City had ever seen, too sneaky and quick to ever be caught. If you knew who my dad was you'd understand why that was important. And the thing is he got me in. But I don't want to go back. Ungrateful, huh?"
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 14, 2011 16:33:56 GMT -5
I was taking in his story. He was quite the story teller, but then again, his story was certainly not a boring one, it was a story I had never heard before, not even in fairy-tales when I was a little girl. The scheming of his father had turned back around and bit him square in teh arse and I smiled perhaps a little impishly.
"Well, serves him right for putting you into something for ulterior motives than to see you grow and strive on your own. I do not think it ungrateful, I think it's perfect considering," I mused. "Besides, its like you've stolen your life back, right from under his nose," I said wtih a bit of a giggle. I leaned closer, which meant we were rather close considering he had leaned closer to tell me his story, but I did not mind. The hand he had on the back of my neck caressed my locks and I found it still comforting.
"Though he must have had choice words for that... or would.. when he finds out," I mused. "Please, continue," I chuckled, "now I am the one rambling." I gave him all my attention, the room swayed less for it, having a focal point that took up my concentration.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 14, 2011 16:48:19 GMT -5
Her answer drew a low laugh from me and I let my eyes continue to focus on her features through the haze that wanted to swim across my vision. I was half-tempted to call for another drink but that would have to wait for at least a short time or else I'd likely do something stupid, like falling asleep at the table or staying here saying all sorts of things to Essie until I forgot to go back to Eglantine on time. Getting shouted at, confined or lashed didn't seem like the appropriate way to end this evening- but then again I had no idea how things were going to finish out at this point.
"It's a nice thought, but my life it's completely stolen back. It's not as though he doesn't know where I live and still have all of my brothers and sisters working with him, as well as more than a few others. Dad's risen up in the world since I was smaller," I told her with a wry chuckle, rolling my eyes for a brief moment and shifting my hand so my palm rested against the side of her neck while my fingers still traced her nape. "And you're not rambling any worse than I am, dove. Say what you want when you want and I don't mind at all."
By this time she was close enough that I could feel her breath just faintly brushing across my skin and sending goosebumps of sensation across my flesh, but for not I forced myself to ignore that. "But I'll continue now anyway. Once I got to Eglantine they saw that I was pretty wiry and small, checked me out, and decided I should be a tumbler since it was what I already had an aptitude for. There's other things too, like singing and dancing and a little painting or sewing but I spent most of my time in the more physical classes. And I ended up in the troupe, and they're a bit like a family you see when you're working and rarely otherwise since we all have our own things to do. When I make my marque my family expects me to come back which is probably why it's not done yet. I'm not a bad adept but if I seem like it that helps at times."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 14, 2011 16:56:21 GMT -5
I listened to his story, finding myself smiling. His voice had been soft, but not so sfot I could not hear him over teh din, and being this close to him, that smile, teh roll of his eyes, it made me feel... funny... but I brushed it aside, chalking it up to the liquor I had consumed. His story was an interesting one, but then I furrowed my brows. I found myself worried about what would happen once he was finished. Like he had said, his father knew where he was, and he was influential on the streets, which could be a bad thing if Bayard did not want to return, which he voiced he did not.
"What will you do? Once you are done and they expect you back working in the family business?" I asked him, my voice sounding small. I wondered if he could see the fear in my eyes, and tried to calm myself, not wanting to seem skittish about it, or overly worried. I had faith that he could handle himself, but I would hate to find something happened to him simply because he wanted to live his life and not the life set out for him by others.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 14, 2011 20:37:36 GMT -5
The expression that passed over her face for a moment was something recognizable, though unexpected- but it was completely replaced a moment later by her frown and with my own drink-addled mind I assumed it was just something I imagined. It was completely crazy to have thought it was there in the first place, especially considering what we'd told each other so far. Not that my mind was in any state to focus on something like that anyway, especially when she looked so worried for my sake. That was a rare thing indeed.
"I'll probably stay at Eglantine if I can, maybe open my own salon or inn if i get lucky enough," I told her in a nonchalant tone, meeting her frightened gaze with my own and bringing my hand up to stroke her cheek lightly. "Don't get that look, gutter rats don't get brought down that easy. We're sneaky, right? You've got your own things to worry about, don't spare another thought for me or I may have to try and make you feel better somehow and I bet I'd be a lot more out of tune if I tried singing again."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 16, 2011 13:12:12 GMT -5
He spoke of his plans as if he hadn't a care in the world, or a worry in the world, and it eased me slightly. But I knew how men were at times, being tough when they did not want to unsettle someone, even if their minds and emotions were a wreck. But I had to believe that he was truly not terribly worried about it. Afterall hehad been truthful with me thus far. I smiled softly, then smiled fully and giggled.
"Wait, you mean if I hold the frown for a little longer you might sing again?" I teased, attempting to force a frwon on my countenance and failing terribly. "Is this a frown?" I asked, my voice muffled as my lips tried to curve downward, but then pushed back into a bright smile. I giggled again at my foolishness.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 16, 2011 18:11:03 GMT -5
She really was very adorable in her playfulness and it was good that she still had some ability for it even with all she'd been through. It helped easy my concern over her a little, though she probably didn't need some Doorstep-born adept to worry over her anyway. If there was any justice in the world her brother would die, she'd get to inherit her home and do what she wanted with it and then make her own way however she chose. Not that there was any kind of justice that would ever make that happen like as not. Who was going to believe a pickpocket against a lord of some kind, or even a peer? That was why those on the Doorstep kept to their own brand of justice.
"No, lucky for us both that is not a frown, dove," I told her with a chuckle, feeling the drink loosening my thoughts and manner even more than it already had. Now I would no doubt have to wait before I tried to climb anything or else I'd have nothing but a broken leg and a good scolding if not an outright lashing. "Besides, you look far better when you smile and laugh. Why would a frown be a better reward than that? I should say that if you frown so I'll never give you a good song."
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Post by Estella de Cartier on Feb 16, 2011 19:00:43 GMT -5
I laughed, trying a pout instead.
"How about this, will this win me any singing?" I queried as I let out a few sniffles to get the pout across, though I could hardly hold it long enough and ended up giggling again. "Oh Bayard... does this evening have to end I hate it so that I am in such high spirits and having fun with you but soon we will both have to go our separate ways." This time I did pout, and it was a real one.
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Post by Bayard Roux nó Eglantine on Feb 16, 2011 19:08:23 GMT -5
"No, I don't go for pouting either, especially when I use it sometimes myself," I replied, my eyes flashing slightly in mirth, then becoming more thoughtful as she continued to speak and tracing a thumb just under her lower lip and trying to ignore how smooth and soft the skin there was. "So none of that now. You act like I don't sneak out very often or something. Besides, I'll need to be here for at least another few minutes to let this tipsy feeling fade or I'm like to break my leg trying to climb back in and I don't think that would be a very good thing, do you?" It actually caused me a pang of regret that she was right and we'd have to part ways but I didn't linger on that. I had so few friends and I hated regrets so there was no reason to blend the two things. "I've been having fun too, so never fear my tracking you down again."
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