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Post by Vautier on Sept 20, 2011 17:13:57 GMT -5
I had a day of meetings, and meetings, ahead of me. It is not true, whatever they say, that crime doesn’t pay, but it does take rather a lot of work sometimes, and most of it is far from glamorous. If people were not so iniquitous in their desires, I would be a mere logistician – and I say that not because I flinch from what I do, and have done, but because it is another truth.
I maintain a discreet residence in Night’s Doorstep. I have wealth enough for something “better” but I prefer relative anonymity. And I suppose I could have servants to take care of domestic matters for me but something inside me recoils from the idea. I have associates who work with me, and people who work for me, but I serve no-one and no-one serves me. I also know that my bare rooms and basic necessities are not quite what they should be, not that anyone will see them, but I can't really spare the time or attention. And matters of personal taste are something of a cause for concern, since I suspect I have none. It does not come naturally to me as it does for others, and I was not trained for it.
I have, however, discovered an affinity for some beautiful things. Speaking of which...
This first meeting could easily have been passed to an associate, for it was little more than the delivery of a report. My enterprise rather runs itself these days, except in its expansion and enforcement. I have seen the dregs of the hearts of people, and there is little that surprises me, save this particular favour, which was perhaps why I was willing to lend it my personal attention. Although I fear it may be a weakness, this partiality of mine, my inability to resist indulging it, and my instinct to make excuses for it.
I collected up the various maps and notes, although the reports – delivered to me, as I prefer, face to face – I had already committed to memory, and spared my reflection, hazy in the dusty mirror, a brief glance. Vanity now? I brushed a few pieces of lint from my sleeve. Everything was in place, there was nothing to distract or disturb me. I would do.
I have protection enough in Night's Doorstep but I moved carefully through the maze of streets regardless. Also I'm sure it would be terribly bad form to turn up on Zephyr de La Valette's doorstep with a tail, or a grudge-motivated chancer in pursuit. He, too, maintains a residence here in the Doorstep, though given his habit of surrounding himself with purchasable flesh, rather less discreet than mine.
One final evaluation of my surroundings, and I rapped smartly upon the door with the knocker. I dusted off my fingertips with my handkerchief while I waited to be admitted. Given his own network, it was likely he expected me.
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Post by Zephyr de La Valette on Sept 21, 2011 0:00:29 GMT -5
The days when I awoke early in the morning were few, and only on the Aphrodisia did I rouse myself before sunrise. Perhaps in Hellas they would blame my idleness on my D'Angeline blood while they themselves played at wrestling with each other, 'twas a sport that made little sense to me except as a prelude for intimacy with other men.
I, personally, opted to skip rolling around in the dirt in favour of such intimacy, and D'Angelines excelled in the area of love-play.
Sitting upright in bed, I called for a basin and cloth, slowly washing away the strange state between sleeping and waking during which the cares of the day are not as clear as they were when I had retired for the night. It was only when I finished delicately dabbing the corners of my eyes--another D'Angeline trait, they would say--that I recalled that a few frequent visitors to the House of Dusk had once again requested assignations for tonight. I usually made sure to inform them well in advance, but perhaps Tillonius, ever the reliable one, had taken care of that for me. No matter, I would remind them myself when next we dined.
I left the basin in the care of one of the servants, dressed quickly, and headed to my office--The Spider's Den, as it was known in the City of Elua--there was still that ongoing business with a shipment of opium that someone had tampered with at some point before it landed in Terre d'Ange, and naturally, I wanted to know who could have done such a thing. Perhaps it was a sign that it was time to cut ties with these particular smugglers. I would have to come to a decision soon...
I glanced up from my work when Tillonius entered the room, only uttering a single word, "Vautier," before waiting for my instructions.
"Ah, good, how convenient that he is such an early riser," I remarked, dismissing Tillonius with a wave of my hand. "Show him in, if I am not mistaken, he has something for me." Out of all of my associates, the arrangement I had with Vautier was one I treasured.
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Post by Vautier on Sept 21, 2011 13:41:02 GMT -5
I was admitted promptly, by the same man as always, I thought his name might be Tillonius, and left to wait only briefly. Rather than spending the time on fruitful contemplation, as I would have done under other circumstances, since a well ordered mind is essential to the success of my enterprise, I found myself consumed with the desire to re-check my appearance.
Thankfully, the man returned before rationality crumbled entirely and I was shown into Zephyr's office. I believe they called it The Spider's Den, but I wasn't sure if this piece of fancy was his doing, or just an odd flourish bestowed by the rumour mill. In anyone else I would have dismissed it as childish play-acting or an irrelevance but on him it was …
I pondered, seeking an unfamiliar word for an unfamiliar idea.
Endearing.
That thought must have put a faint smile upon my lips as I stepped through the door, though I quickly banished it, for this was, after all, business. I know it cannot be wise to mix business with pleasure, but then it has never been a temptation before.
I crossed the room briskly, delaying to the last possible second the moment I would have to look at him, knowing I would be undone in an instant by his eyes, and relishing it far too much to even think to fear it.
I greeted him, however, as I would have greeted anyone else, with a courteous good morning, and a nod of acknowledgement, since I bow to no-one. I laid the reports down on the desk between us, and began to unroll the map. “There has been some progress,” I said, moving straight to the matter at hand, since I believed I had dispensed with the civilities in a gentlemanly fashion, and, in all truth, I needed to occupy my mind so I simply didn't … stare.
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Post by Zephyr de La Valette on Sept 27, 2011 14:22:02 GMT -5
If I could count on Vautier for anything, I could count on him being able to get to the point without all the wringing of hands and stuttering that characterized many of my clients. I counted it as a point of pride that even the hardened criminals showed visible wariness when they entered into my domain. One does not bother to be wary in the presence of one they do not fear.
He was avoiding my gaze and that made me smile inwardly. Were he not clear that this was a business matter I might have teased him for it, but there would be plenty of time for that after he gave me the information I required of him.
"You know I love it when you speak of progress," I purred, eyes sweeping over the reports and examining the map with interest. In addition to the business with the tainted opium, I was also engaged in tracking a particularly organized band of slavers who had managed to evade my notice until recently.
"Everyone thinks they are so adept at covering their tracks," I murmured as I picked up the reports and began flipping through them. "First, tell me you managed to secure a shipping manifest for a certain drug of interest, the buggers cling to them as if they are made of gold, and I am quite upset that they refused to share."
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Post by Vautier on Sept 27, 2011 17:08:39 GMT -5
I put it down to a peculiarity of the man himself that he had a talent for making things not only innocuous, but commonplace, sound in some way sensual. The idea that he loved it when I spoke of progress crawled up my spine like the touch of a finger, and I rummaged through the words in some bewilderment, searching for anything tangible that would support my response to them. I found absolutely nothing except the proposition that I was not entirely in command of my faculties.
As he busied himself with the documents provided, I occupied myself briefly, and not entirely consciously, in a game that largely involved constructing him from stolen glances: first his hands, travelling gracefully across paper that seemed to some degree coarser than his skin, the downsweep of his lashes as he read, the delicacy of his wrists, the firm curve of his jaw. And then I caught myself doing it, and wondered how it was that a man who held politicians in one hand, and murderers in the other, could abandon himself without even noticing to something as impractical as the beauty of a single individual.
I drew myself together again, and reached into an inside pocket to produce the manifest he had requested. I felt a smile curl my lips as I slid the paper with a single finger across the desk towards him. “They have been instructed in the virtue of generosity,” I said, looking at him directly this time.
I have had little time, or interest, to acquaint myself with the mechanisms of courtship but we offer what tribute we can at the altar of the desired. Perhaps in a different world there would have been dragons to slay or flowers to pick but in ours there were city guards, slavers, and shipping manifests. And frankly this work was far more to my taste.
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Post by Zephyr de La Valette on Sept 28, 2011 0:45:45 GMT -5
"Well, I am certain they had quite a competent instructor," I said, lopsided grin communicating my amusement as I retrieved the manifest and examined it. "Ah, here, the same crew member was assigned to tend to three separate shipments. I should like to instruct him on the proper chemical composition of opium." I made a few notes on a sheet of parchment. It would be a simple matter to find the man, now. Ah, the joys of collaboration, making it a simple matter to find thorns in my side!
"Now, regarding other business," I continued, setting the freshly inked sheet aside. "It seems this particular brood of vipers is growing by the hour," the practice of selling unwilling flesh was something I found so contemptible that had to resort to using other words for it at times. "At present, my own agents have managed to track down a few persons of interest, but they have proven most reluctant to divulge the location of their nest. I thought a man of your...particular talents...would be especially suitable for this endeavor." Ah, but such things always came with a price.
"In exchange, I believe I would be amenable to parting with a few choice secrets," I said, secrets....and gold, as well. I always paid for information regarding the sale of flesh in gold.
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Post by Vautier on Sept 28, 2011 4:52:46 GMT -5
I spared a fleeting thought for this unwilling recipient of an unwanted education. It would have been more efficient simply to dispose of him, and under any other circumstances I would have advocated it, but I knew Zephyr had an abhorrence for what he termed “unnecessary violence.” I prefer to avoid bloodshed myself, but I do not shy from doing what is necessary, whereas I believe Zephyr suffers from some manner of personal morality. It is hardly a useful trait in a business partner but, in him, I did not condemn it, trusting – as much as I trust in anyone or anything – his capacity to act when it was needed. Perhaps it was merely that our definition of “unnecessary” did not accord. No matter.
I listened intently to his request, and evaluated the exchange offered. The simple truth of it is that I sometimes suspect I would do whatever Zephyr wanted simply for the asking – a possibility that, needless to say, concerns me. I find I am rarely distracted by curiosity when it comes to the things I am asked. I know merely that people are dominated by what they want, and that this makes them exploitable, but generally I find little to distinguish between the requests themselves. This marriage, that rival, gold, power, knowledge, revenge, destruction, an endless, repeating, interchangeable pattern. Worthless things, given value only through individual desire. But I find Zephyr’s obsession with flesh-merchants ... unusual.
“Do you wish me to find you the base of operations, or overcome to the reluctance of those already in your custody?” I asked. In either case, I knew some people who would be suitable to assist – all of them owing me some favour or another. The extraction of information is an inexact science, and although I possess some skills in that area I have a distaste for inexact sciences. I think to a large degree it comes down to will, and although I have that in abundance I suspect I also lack imagination.
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Post by Zephyr de La Valette on Sept 28, 2011 14:47:47 GMT -5
"I had intended for you to apply...exceptionally persuasive...methods to the men already in custody, but the sooner that nest no longer exists, the better we will all be for it." I placed the shipping manifest to the side. I could at least manage to properly dispose of it.
"Put it to the torch, if you like," I continued. "I care not how you deal with it, so long as it is dealt with promptly. I do have a reputation to uphold." Ironic, perhaps, that a businessman like myself was the only person standing between the city guards and a city's worth of criminal activity.
"Well, now that those matters are sorted out," to my satisfaction, at least, I added silently. "Permit me a moment to examine my records for something worthy of such a favour. Have you broken your fast? I can send for something." This was not the first time I had broken my fast while discussing business, nor was it the first time I had done so with Vautier.
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Post by Vautier on Sept 29, 2011 11:12:32 GMT -5
I merely nodded in response to his clarification, confirming that I’d see to it. If he had been anyone else, I would also have provided a gentle reminder that such things came neither easily nor cheaply, but there were so many lines of obligation running between us already – among other things – that it was unnecessary. My mind turned through the various things I would need to set in motion, the favours I would need to turn in, and the pressures I would need to exert. There was high a likelihood much of this would require my personal involvement. It was clearly going to be a complex day.
But complex, at least, is interesting. And I will confess to deriving some degree of satisfaction from witnessing the extent of my network in action. It reminds me that I have come a long way.
The ease with which Zephyr manages business, on the one hand, and life’s pleasures on the other has always left me simultaneously impressed and disorientated. I hadn’t even thought of food this morning, and, caught up in planning, it would likely not have occurred to me at all. As I general rule I prefer to eat alone, finding the very necessity of it irritating, but I enjoy watching Zephyr, and I particularly enjoy watching him indulge his physical side – even something as everyday as dining. There are probably polite conventions for accepting such invitations but I simply said “I’d like that†because it was true.
Since I was going to be there for a little while, I took the liberty of sitting myself in a chair by the desk, crossing one leg over the other, in the pose I have found best communicates relaxation to others. I was, however, conscious of an approaching silence, and lacking my companion’s talent for switching from one mode to another, I felt a pang of something that came as close as I ever do to fear. I would have to make ... smalltalk.
Not a skill for which I ordinarily have need, or for that matter inclination. But this was an usual situation. An interest in someone beyond the ways I could find them useful is a rarity for me. I pulled out my handkerchief and used it to clean a practically invisible scuff from the edge of my nail. “So....†I said, as I occupied myself, “are you well?â€
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Post by Zephyr de La Valette on Sept 29, 2011 17:23:59 GMT -5
In truth, I was not expecting him to agree to stay--we two had busy schedules--so I was quite pleased when he indicated that he would, shouting for Tillonius to fetch something suitable. In this case "suitable" meant bread fresh from the oven and not rotting in the sunlight.
"Well enough," I replied in response to his query. "I cannot complain for lack of work. Information is one commodity someone always lacks." I came out from behind my desk, brought out a chair, and sat across from him. If he were any other man, I would have kept the desk between us, it was quite the show of trust on my part.
"I heard an interesting rumor recently," I began conversationally. "Something about Carthage and an interest in D'Angeline slaves. Strictly sub rosa, of course, given the legalities of such an enterprise in this country. Still, I wonder what other opportunities lie outside D'Angeline soil." I had not given much thought to it until recently, but it occurred to me that I did have an interest in Hellas, a very personal interest.
Such things could wait until I discussed such things in private with certain members of my household, however. I highly doubted that Vautier was interested in matters of a personal nature.
"What about you? How do you fare?" I asked, cocking my head to the side a little. How may I help you achieve your goals? Tit for tat, and I always kept up my end of the bargain.
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Post by Vautier on Sept 30, 2011 8:47:09 GMT -5
His proximity pleased and distracted me in equal measure, or rather the pleasure of it distracted me. It would have a simple matter to breach the empty air and touch him, but I suppose I am more accustomed to violence and indifference, and therefore, in this particular sphere of experience, I hesitate when I should act, and think when I should not think. I can only presume I will become more adept when it becomes more familiar to me. If it ever does. I’m not sure it will.
I suspect it might lose its peculiarly illicit thrill if it did. There is nothing like habit to teach one contempt for something. The first time a man died at my hands I found it, shall we say, disorientating but now the barrier between life and death seems to me as thin as a blade, and I think it no great matter. I conclude from this there is nothing of good or ill in the world to which a man may not grow accustomed.
Except. Perhaps. For this.
I put my handkerchief away, to watch and listen, my foot of its own inclination coming to rest lightly beside his own. Sub rosa. He has such pretty words for commonplace things, like secrets and lies, illegalities and death. And when he talks of his interests, his eyes are the colour of absinthe. Not a weakness of mine but they say it is a draught of madness and bliss.
“There are vexations, but they are minor. My affairs keep me busy enough. But tell me,” I found myself smiling at him, apparently, and surprisingly, amused, “is tormenting the slavers of Terre d’Ange insufficient now? You wish to extend your...” I tried to think up a word he would like "...repertoire?”
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Post by Zephyr de La Valette on Oct 3, 2011 12:52:24 GMT -5
I was about to respond when Tillonius arrived with bread, bowls of beef broth, and a flagon of good wine. Normally I would have offered one such as Vautier a meat dish as well, but what passed in this district for meat was likely rat carcass, and I had not yet sent someone to fetch fresher fare.
"Not precisely," I replied, giving Tillonius a nod of acknowledgement and gratitude for being able to find something decent to serve my allies. "But I have, shall we say, a particular personal interest in Hellas, of which I am sure you are well aware." I shrugged. "It is a...curiosity of sorts..." I wondered what a father would make of a son like me, whether he would be shocked or (dare I imagine it?) proud that his son would command such a vast empire.
"Oh, and do not tease me for being sentimental," I remarked, smiling a little as I took a sip of wine. "It is most unbecoming of a gentleman such as yourself."
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Post by Vautier on Oct 4, 2011 10:35:39 GMT -5
The fare was all a little rich for my tastes but then food is a necessity for me, rather than a pleasure. I took some of the bread however which was fresh enough that even I noticed the flavour of it. There was a peculiar contentment to this. I don’t normally dine with others, largely because I’m uninterested and they’re terrified, which leads only to boredom on the one hand and indigestion on the other. It allowed me a brief insight into the sort of life I would never choose to leave. If I had a man like Zephyr would I be content to rise late, take breakfast, go shopping, watch performances of imaginary lives more interesting than mine ... in truth, probably not. But I suppose a man like Zephyr wouldn’t care for that either.
I arched my brows at him, pretending not to watch the way wine glistened on his lips, or the ripple of his throat he swallowed. It was pure flattery on his part to term me a gentleman; I’ve never pretended to be, only to imitate one, and that for my own purposes. “I think you know I’m not really one for verbal teasing,” I said carefully, conscious that his style of banter was far beyond me, and feeling rather like a crocodile trying to converse with a firefly.
“But, whatever is personally interesting to you is personally interesting to me.”
I dusted away a few crumbs of bread with my fingertips, never before having been in the position of thinking such a thing, let alone expressing it to another.
[OOC – I wasn’t sure how much information V would have about Zeph’s background, so I tried to, err, be vague]
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