Even the hint of the past can ruin the future...
The child was charming. Servants that could deal with the unusual were rare, and this one handled the crazy pink vampire perfectly. So much can be told about a person from the servants they keep. They reflect their masters, and the little boy did his justice.
His master was another matter. Alder. He called her Alder and Alder, over and over. "Vivian" was apparently too challenging for the other ancient elder. She had come to him to discuss the business of his covenant, and more then that, her worth in that chess board...and he kept calling her Alder. It was a sign the night would go poorly.
The two talked about nothing...where nothing was the political situation and things that mattered to everyone else. His disinterested tone indicated it meant as little to him as it did her. He noticed not her words, but instead focused on every little gesture. The game did not matter anymore, only the players, and it made her uneasy. That was a harder engagement, more exacting, and she was not sure she wanted to play such with him. Or maybe she already was. The fog in her mind felt like torpor. Each moment she was fighting to wake up again. A living sleep, if such was possible.
They fenced. They danced. They continued to talk about nothing. And then he rejected her.
It was so casually couched in other words that she almost missed it. She fretted, thought it through, and decided she must be mistaken. She was not even offering anything; why would he cast aside what he did not even have? It made no sense. But then it happened again.
"Of course not, Alder. I afford you the respect that you have earned. I do not demand of you the responsibilities an Unconquered of your experience would perform."
His words were like freezing water on her soul. Every bit of reassurance she had found was stripped away, every doubt he had brought into her life that cold December night re-highlighted. She stared at him, not believing, and asked him to rephrase.
"Say that again. In English." His attack was illogical. There was no reason for such an assault. She had to have misheard.
"I will give you respect. I will not require your service, nor will I afford you the privileges of such."
She remembered staring at him and saying something in return. Changing the conversation. Looking for any other topic. She found it finally in threatening to push him into the pool, but the lighthearted nature of the conversation fell flat. She had not offered. She had not extended her hand. And yet he had already rejected it. He did not seem to notice. Or it did not matter. She had lost her ability to see, and thus blind, she had come to one she thought still had sight of the game. And apparently he did. The game played, the dance continued, and she was no longer a prize in it. She was a liability. It was no wonder her old lord had not come.
He brushed away her claim that she should let the game progress around her. He brushed away her past. He brushed away everything she was, and believed the lie of what she is. And yet made sure to reject her. He kept talking, but his point was made. Alder. Alder. Alder. He was not talking to a friend, or on a personal level, this was the game. And she really did not want to play. She had avoiding playing for so long. But the rejection sat poorly with her. Why, why was he rejecting her...and why so when she had not even offered?
She tried once more, reached once more, and he told her to go to bed. Fine. If he wanted her to play, she would play.
"Before the Emperor came, I was Vivian to you."
Within seconds he was closer to her then he had ever before been. She could feel the breath of his speech on her hair. She looked down respectfully during his lecture, but she was not really listening. Can you smell her perfume on me, old man? Your daughter? Your whore? I fucked her before coming here. Can you smell it? Do you know it? He was done with his tirade. His anger bothered her, but she pushed it down. Attacking him was not how to play the game.
"I'm sorry."
She held in the grin as he went off again. There was a small little part of her that liked making him angry. But his words were getting through. He kept picking, kept cementing his rejection, her worthlessness in the game. She shut her eyes against it, willing his bile not to matter.
"I'm sorry."
The second apology angered him more and he moved to personal issues. Before it was why she played poorly, now it was about her. About them. Her anger started to simmer. First he rejected her, and then went on about how she treated him poorly. The man truly was a barbarian. He dismissed her out of hand for the third time and something inside her broke. Her politicians words were at first carefully crafted and well considered but soon were raw and honest. Yet they still did not reach him. He wanted her to be this modern disaster, and desires from another time had no place in their conversations. To him, she was what she is, not what she was.
In the end, he chastised her for wasting her power. The words were ironic for someone who just reprimanded her for considering a part of her past - a power-starved husk. She was no longer sure if he had been talking about the Emperor...or himself.
His master was another matter. Alder. He called her Alder and Alder, over and over. "Vivian" was apparently too challenging for the other ancient elder. She had come to him to discuss the business of his covenant, and more then that, her worth in that chess board...and he kept calling her Alder. It was a sign the night would go poorly.
The two talked about nothing...where nothing was the political situation and things that mattered to everyone else. His disinterested tone indicated it meant as little to him as it did her. He noticed not her words, but instead focused on every little gesture. The game did not matter anymore, only the players, and it made her uneasy. That was a harder engagement, more exacting, and she was not sure she wanted to play such with him. Or maybe she already was. The fog in her mind felt like torpor. Each moment she was fighting to wake up again. A living sleep, if such was possible.
They fenced. They danced. They continued to talk about nothing. And then he rejected her.
It was so casually couched in other words that she almost missed it. She fretted, thought it through, and decided she must be mistaken. She was not even offering anything; why would he cast aside what he did not even have? It made no sense. But then it happened again.
"Of course not, Alder. I afford you the respect that you have earned. I do not demand of you the responsibilities an Unconquered of your experience would perform."
His words were like freezing water on her soul. Every bit of reassurance she had found was stripped away, every doubt he had brought into her life that cold December night re-highlighted. She stared at him, not believing, and asked him to rephrase.
"Say that again. In English." His attack was illogical. There was no reason for such an assault. She had to have misheard.
"I will give you respect. I will not require your service, nor will I afford you the privileges of such."
She remembered staring at him and saying something in return. Changing the conversation. Looking for any other topic. She found it finally in threatening to push him into the pool, but the lighthearted nature of the conversation fell flat. She had not offered. She had not extended her hand. And yet he had already rejected it. He did not seem to notice. Or it did not matter. She had lost her ability to see, and thus blind, she had come to one she thought still had sight of the game. And apparently he did. The game played, the dance continued, and she was no longer a prize in it. She was a liability. It was no wonder her old lord had not come.
He brushed away her claim that she should let the game progress around her. He brushed away her past. He brushed away everything she was, and believed the lie of what she is. And yet made sure to reject her. He kept talking, but his point was made. Alder. Alder. Alder. He was not talking to a friend, or on a personal level, this was the game. And she really did not want to play. She had avoiding playing for so long. But the rejection sat poorly with her. Why, why was he rejecting her...and why so when she had not even offered?
She tried once more, reached once more, and he told her to go to bed. Fine. If he wanted her to play, she would play.
"Before the Emperor came, I was Vivian to you."
Within seconds he was closer to her then he had ever before been. She could feel the breath of his speech on her hair. She looked down respectfully during his lecture, but she was not really listening. Can you smell her perfume on me, old man? Your daughter? Your whore? I fucked her before coming here. Can you smell it? Do you know it? He was done with his tirade. His anger bothered her, but she pushed it down. Attacking him was not how to play the game.
"I'm sorry."
She held in the grin as he went off again. There was a small little part of her that liked making him angry. But his words were getting through. He kept picking, kept cementing his rejection, her worthlessness in the game. She shut her eyes against it, willing his bile not to matter.
"I'm sorry."
The second apology angered him more and he moved to personal issues. Before it was why she played poorly, now it was about her. About them. Her anger started to simmer. First he rejected her, and then went on about how she treated him poorly. The man truly was a barbarian. He dismissed her out of hand for the third time and something inside her broke. Her politicians words were at first carefully crafted and well considered but soon were raw and honest. Yet they still did not reach him. He wanted her to be this modern disaster, and desires from another time had no place in their conversations. To him, she was what she is, not what she was.
In the end, he chastised her for wasting her power. The words were ironic for someone who just reprimanded her for considering a part of her past - a power-starved husk. She was no longer sure if he had been talking about the Emperor...or himself.