Suspended Employment
Summary: Lucius and Gwen agree that their business cannot continue as it was originally stipulated. Sandor angrily crashes the scene with Lucius' concubine and fun ensues.
--[ Lucius's Apartments ]-----------------------------------[ House Karm ]----
Dark stone walls and light stone flooring dominate these rooms. Ornate rugs are placed in traffic areas. The first room is a receiving room, with a large hearth, and various comfortable furniture and appropriate accoutrements.
Two rooms connect to the receiving room. One is clearly a private study. The other is a large master bedroom, filled with a canopy bed, and dark-stained wooden furniture. Throughout all of the rooms are tapestries, flags and other unique items of interest.
The door here leads out into the residential area of House Karm.
--[ views ]---------------------------------------------------[ Exits: O ]----
Lucius calls from his couch. "Enter." He sits, reading a book.
Guinevere is led in by a servant, who summarily bows and heads out of the room. For the first time, the young blonde is dressed in finery outside of a ball of other formal setting. Her cream-colored dress has accents and embroidery spun of golden thread, with matching modestly-heeled shoes. Clearly unused to walking in this style of footwear, her deep curtsey is shakier than usual. "Good day, Lord Lucius." Her voice is soft and perhaps a bit breathless, speech slowed to a crawl to prevent her natural accent from slipping in.
Lucius raises a brow, "Good day, Miss Guinevere." He gestures to the couch across from himself.
The raised eyebrow has Gwen looking down at herself. The ensuing blush only further accentuates just how pale her skin is. "Lady Quina insists I dress this way for our lessons. She desires me to dress this way at all times, I believe." With a smirk that is purely Gwen, the young woman asks, "Can you imagine me speaking with my countrymen in this outfit and with this accent? I might be stabbed on the spot." Once she finally finishes the lethargic speech, she clears her throat awkwardly. "You... you look well, my lord. How was the trip?"
Lucius smiles. "I consider your countrymen other than those with whom you are acquainted, miss." As for the trip, he replies in a tone that does not invite inquiry. "It has ended."
The blush only deepens, hardly having had a chance to fade from the previous rush of blood. Gwen nods, chastised. "You are correct, of course, my lord." Very much unlike the confident New Lyonessian who used to look this man in the eye and tell him he was a stubborn fool, this Gwen seems unable to meet his gaze. "I do not mean to pry, my lord, but has your trip in any way altered your goals for me?" She shifts from foot to foot, face tightening from pain.
Lucius sets the book aside from his lap. "I am unable to raise a force to serve King Julian, do you not agree?"
Guinevere's shoulders hunch as she acknowledges the failure. "Not with my... our people splitting in both politics and geography." It takes ages to manage that sentence. "Have you no allies in this?" The foot-shifting worsens and she bites down on her lower lip hard.
Lucius studies Gwen. "Benedict is King." He does not say it in a way that suggests Benedict is an ally.
"Currently." Gwen's reply is quick - perhaps too quick. Finally, she brings her gaze up to meet his. Somehow, this brings her to stillness, although her gloved hands grip one another with great force.
Lucius eyes Guinevere harshly. "Such talk is unwise."
"No less wise than speaking of raising an army to support King Julian," Gwen counters, although the slow pace causes its punch to be lost. Still, her emerald eyes glitter with as much respect as challenge. She waits a beat, then asks, "What matters most to you in this life?"
Lucius raises a hand. "I claimed no such thing, save as an impossibility. I have a modicum of protection against poorly considred words. Do not believe you are similarly protected Miss Guinevere. One word ill-spoken, particularly in regards to the King of Amber, may indeed be your last. Allow me to be clear: I shall not countenance treasonous or inciteful speech against the Crown of Amber."
Frustration shows clearly on Gwen's face. After a bit, though, she schools it to a mixture of calm and subservience. "I wished only to express my loyalty to you, Lord Lucius. I apologize for implying anything so dangerous as treason." The fire in her eyes, however, remains smoldering.
Lucius waves a hand at Guinevere dismissively. "Dismiss all thoughts of loyalty to me. Such a thing is dangerous in these times. Lady Quina's company is much better a thing for your future, miss."
Sandor doesn't knock. He barges in, in fact, and has a young woman held by the elbow, scantily dressed and of Penglai extraction.
Lucius rises. "Uncle." He seems surprised, but remains respectful. His eyes dart to the woman.
Guinevere opens her mouth to retort when someone suddenly barges in. Sizing up the newcomer, she quickly slips into a deep curtsey and remains silent, part of the furniture.
Sandor releases the woman's elbow - sharp eyes will notice faint bruises already forming, although the woman does not issue any complaint. Sandor does not seem happy. "Now listen, kiddo. I don't know what's been going on with you two while you were gone, but I'm pretty sure it didn't involve you telling her to see to /my/ needs. So I think we need to straighten this out."
Lucius's eyes turn sharp as he regards the Penglai woman. "Zhen-Hua. May I ask, of what does my Honoured Uncle speak?"
Although Gwen's head is somewhat lowered in deference to her betters, those emerald eyes sneak a peek at the scantily-clad woman. While an eyebrow lifts, she listens, her own expression as expectant as though she were the one who demanded the information.
The woman keeps her head bowed and her eyes downcast. Sandor answers for her. "Got back to my rooms and found her in my bed, that's what I'm speaking of. Pretty damn sure you didn't put her up to this, but she's still your concern, Lucius." He finally seems to notice Guinevere, and grunts out a "Miss," in a way that might pass for greeting.
Lucius looks sternly to Zhen-Hua, then realizes his oversight. "Miss Guinevere of New Lyonesse, this is Lord Sandor of Karm, my uncle." He replies to Sandor then, "I have given her no such instructions, milord." He regards the Penglai woman. "You are excused to await in your appointed rooms, where we may revisit the terms of Karm's hospitality."
Zhen-Hua drops into a deep bow, and scurries off with great speed. Sandor watches her go, shaking his head. "Don't understand half of things out of her mouth, but she was pretty clear about things."
Realizing that the other man is in no mood for formalities, Gwen keeps her slowly-spoken words soft and ignorable as she again curtsies. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Sandor." She once again falls silent, although her gaze falls back to the other woman, emotions within the orbs unclear.
Lucius looks to Sandor. "My apologies for Zhen-Hua's inappropriate behaviour, milord."
Sandor nods. "I figure you'll handle it." The reality of Guinevere's presence finally seems to sink in, and he squints at Lucius. "Am I interrupting something, kiddo?"
Lucius gestures to Guinevere. "Miss Guinevere had heard of my return, and was paying a social call, I believe." He looks to Gwen expectantly.
Guinevere finally speaks up. "Actually, I wished to clarify business matters, Lord Lucius," she offers with more strength than most of the previous conversation. Still, it takes time for the entire sentence to come out. Each word is annunciated too clearly to be natural.
Lucius nods. "Of course. I have misunderstood."
"Business matters, eh?" Sandor doesn't quite leer, but the look he gives Lucius isn't entirely gentlemanly.
Lucius ignores the look. "Indeed. Miss Guinevere was in my employ as a liason to New Lyonesse. However, I believe circumstances have rendered our previous arrangement unfavourable."
Not so naive as to be oblivious to such a look, Gwen lifts her chin and unabashedly sends a hard stare toward the elder man. In fact, it seems she might speak until Lucius chooses to do so. Gaze shifting back to her boss, she nods. "Precisely why I wished to discuss matters with you. Is the arrangement one that can be altered or will it dissolve entirely?" Despite having been invited to sit, she remains standing ramrod straight, every muscle in her body stiff as she awaits a response.
Sandor looks between Lucius and Guinevere, somewhere between amused and curious.
Lucius looks to Guinevere. "I will not shed responsibility for your well-being, Miss. However, the terms of our business arrangement are quite impossible due to circumstances surely beyond your control. At the very least, our business is suspended for the time being. You may check with Dorian for any wages which may be owing."
Guinevere's mouth twists as though someone has just shoved an extremely sour lemon into it. "I respect your desire to help your fellow immensely, my lord. However..." Her mouth works for a moment, but no sound comes out. She takes a deep breath and tries again. "However, you know me, and any with the proud blood of Lyonesse, well enough to know that I cannot be your charity case." A small, sad smile touches her thin lips and she relaxes enough to slip into her natural New Lyonessian accent. "Besides, ye've got better uses o' yer time an' money than lettin' a street rat pretend ta be somebody special. No matter how nice the illusion."
Sandor actually looks at Guinevere a second time, at that, and there's a different look in his eye. "See, now there's something."
Lucius looks to Guinevere without fazing. "We are what we aspire to be, miss. Shall I call upon you should further opportunity present itself?"
"Tell that ta the kids on the rooftops an' in the alleys aspirin' ta be fed," Gwen comments softly, attempting a smirk. However, the effort causes her eyes to moisten. Although a curious sidelong glance is sent toward Sandor, she forces herself to look back to Lucius. Face reddening, despite her best efforts, she manages to barely more than whisper, "Call on me anytime ye wish, m'lord." She slips something flat and rectangular out of the inside of her right glove and slowly, tentatively crosses the gap between herself and Lucius, holding it out to him. From up close, it is apparent that her hand is shaking.
Lucius looks to the card offered. "It is my understanding that many have been given an opportunity by the Lady Wildemere." He accepts the card. "But I cannot fault your passion." The unspoken fault may be her tone.
Sandor doesn't grab Lucius by the ear. It'd just be embarassing. But it's written in his tone when he speaks up. "Now, hold on here. Looks to me like you're about to let something very stupid happen, kiddo."
Lucius looks to Sandor, but does not speak.
Guinevere keeps silent at the implied chastisement, letting out a breath she did not know she had been holding when he accepts the card. In the middle of her curtseying to Lucius, Sandor's words give her pause. She rises and turns to look at the highest-ranking man in the room with a mixture of interest, hope and fear clear as a bell on her face.
Sandor says, "Now, you go ahead and tell me if I'm butting in here. But from where I stand, it looks like you're about to put an end to something based on 'circumstances', which in my experience usually means anything but. If you can't give a good reason, you don't have a good reason. So educate me, kiddo. Tell me why you're letting this girl go, why you can bother yourself to see to her well-being but you can't bother yourself to give her the means to earn that well-being."
Lucius turns to his uncle. "Forgive my lack of detail, milord. I had previously employed Miss Guinevere to search for elegibile candidates for a knightly order under the aegis of the Crown. This was, of course, under the reign of King Julian. As my liege is no longer King, the support no longer exists."
Although some may be hard-pressed to believe it, Gwen actually does know when she is supposed to shut her mouth. This is one of the few times she heeds that knowledge. Green eyes volley back and forth between the Karm lords as they speak.
Sandor says, "And? Your liege was King for five damn minutes, Lucius. The one before him for ten. Who knows how long this one will last. Today doesn't mean shit - we're working for tomorrow, and next week, and next year. Might be support for it then. Might not be. But I'll swear on Cedric's sword that if you let the fickleness of the Princes dictate your actions, I will dig up your father's bones and kick him in the ass for raising you the way he did."
Lucius raises a brow. "Perhaps this is a conversation for another time."
Guinevere looks straight down to the floor, doing her best to mercilessly smother a grin.
Sandor nods. "Sure. Could be I'm just an ignorant old man, and you've got convincing reasons. I'm not so thick-headed I can't be reasoned with. But I'll tell you this, kiddo. Sharpen those reasons, and don't do anything you can't undo until you've tried 'em out."
Lucius nods. "Thank you for your advice, uncle." But, he does not seem to be changing his mind at the moment.
Guinevere takes the moment to properly curtsey to Lucius. "It has been wond-... a pleasure to serve you, Lord Lucius of Karm." Her accent is forced away again, slowing her words as she does a decent imitation of a noblewoman's speech. After straightening, she looks Lucius in the eye and opens her mouth, only to snap it shut and offer a tiny, polite smile. She turns toward the elder Karm and offers him his own dip of respect. "It has been a -great- pleasure meeting you, Lord Sandor or Karm." Her smile is easier with him, then she turns and heads for the door. Slowly, in those blasted heels.
Sandor gives Lucius a look that promises long future conversations, and lumbers out after Guinevere.
Lucius nods to Guinevere, and watches her go. "Farewell."
--[ Residential Landing West ]------------------------------[ House Karm ]----
The marble landing opens up to the dark carpeted floors dark of the manor residence's level. Dark woods line the passageway and are interspersed with ancient pictures of varying magical creatures. The artwork is worn with age and possibly older than the manor. Recessed doorways rest back from the main hall, nearly obscured by the sweeping archways
---------------------------------------------[ Exits: W SW E NW 1 RE N S ]----
The minute Gwen turns the corner into the hallway, she looks both ways and sighs with relief as she sees no servants. The shoes are angrily kicked off and she blinks rapidly, futilely attempting to prevent tears from falling.
Sandor emerges from Lucius's rooms a moment later, frowning and looking perturbed.
Guinevere mutters an oath under her breath when she spots Sandor. Spinning away from him, she fishes in her sleeve for a kerchief and dabs at her cheeks and eyes. "Somethin' in me eye," she says nowhere near convincingly.
Sandor nods. "Probably smoke," he agrees. "I won't apologize for the boy," he says. "He's a man grown and able to make his own defenses. But he's his father's son, and he can't help that. You get home safe now, miss."
"I dun know what ye mean, m'lord." Gwen's tone is more defensive than she intends it to be. "He's a fine man, mebbe the finest o' all the nobles. He jes... always needs ta do the right thing, even when it's not right, ye ken? He can't help it anymore'n a ladybug ken help havin' spots."
Sandor says, "There's doing the right thing, and there's doing what's right." He looks tired, battered and old. "And there's room between to argue about where nobility goes. Good night."
"Good night, m'lord," Gwen mumbles, shifting her shoulders uncomfortably before going about the business of locating the shoes she previously evicted with great force.
--[ Lucius's Apartments ]-----------------------------------[ House Karm ]----
Dark stone walls and light stone flooring dominate these rooms. Ornate rugs are placed in traffic areas. The first room is a receiving room, with a large hearth, and various comfortable furniture and appropriate accoutrements.
Two rooms connect to the receiving room. One is clearly a private study. The other is a large master bedroom, filled with a canopy bed, and dark-stained wooden furniture. Throughout all of the rooms are tapestries, flags and other unique items of interest.
The door here leads out into the residential area of House Karm.
--[ views ]---------------------------------------------------[ Exits: O ]----
Lucius calls from his couch. "Enter." He sits, reading a book.
Guinevere is led in by a servant, who summarily bows and heads out of the room. For the first time, the young blonde is dressed in finery outside of a ball of other formal setting. Her cream-colored dress has accents and embroidery spun of golden thread, with matching modestly-heeled shoes. Clearly unused to walking in this style of footwear, her deep curtsey is shakier than usual. "Good day, Lord Lucius." Her voice is soft and perhaps a bit breathless, speech slowed to a crawl to prevent her natural accent from slipping in.
Lucius raises a brow, "Good day, Miss Guinevere." He gestures to the couch across from himself.
The raised eyebrow has Gwen looking down at herself. The ensuing blush only further accentuates just how pale her skin is. "Lady Quina insists I dress this way for our lessons. She desires me to dress this way at all times, I believe." With a smirk that is purely Gwen, the young woman asks, "Can you imagine me speaking with my countrymen in this outfit and with this accent? I might be stabbed on the spot." Once she finally finishes the lethargic speech, she clears her throat awkwardly. "You... you look well, my lord. How was the trip?"
Lucius smiles. "I consider your countrymen other than those with whom you are acquainted, miss." As for the trip, he replies in a tone that does not invite inquiry. "It has ended."
The blush only deepens, hardly having had a chance to fade from the previous rush of blood. Gwen nods, chastised. "You are correct, of course, my lord." Very much unlike the confident New Lyonessian who used to look this man in the eye and tell him he was a stubborn fool, this Gwen seems unable to meet his gaze. "I do not mean to pry, my lord, but has your trip in any way altered your goals for me?" She shifts from foot to foot, face tightening from pain.
Lucius sets the book aside from his lap. "I am unable to raise a force to serve King Julian, do you not agree?"
Guinevere's shoulders hunch as she acknowledges the failure. "Not with my... our people splitting in both politics and geography." It takes ages to manage that sentence. "Have you no allies in this?" The foot-shifting worsens and she bites down on her lower lip hard.
Lucius studies Gwen. "Benedict is King." He does not say it in a way that suggests Benedict is an ally.
"Currently." Gwen's reply is quick - perhaps too quick. Finally, she brings her gaze up to meet his. Somehow, this brings her to stillness, although her gloved hands grip one another with great force.
Lucius eyes Guinevere harshly. "Such talk is unwise."
"No less wise than speaking of raising an army to support King Julian," Gwen counters, although the slow pace causes its punch to be lost. Still, her emerald eyes glitter with as much respect as challenge. She waits a beat, then asks, "What matters most to you in this life?"
Lucius raises a hand. "I claimed no such thing, save as an impossibility. I have a modicum of protection against poorly considred words. Do not believe you are similarly protected Miss Guinevere. One word ill-spoken, particularly in regards to the King of Amber, may indeed be your last. Allow me to be clear: I shall not countenance treasonous or inciteful speech against the Crown of Amber."
Frustration shows clearly on Gwen's face. After a bit, though, she schools it to a mixture of calm and subservience. "I wished only to express my loyalty to you, Lord Lucius. I apologize for implying anything so dangerous as treason." The fire in her eyes, however, remains smoldering.
Lucius waves a hand at Guinevere dismissively. "Dismiss all thoughts of loyalty to me. Such a thing is dangerous in these times. Lady Quina's company is much better a thing for your future, miss."
Sandor doesn't knock. He barges in, in fact, and has a young woman held by the elbow, scantily dressed and of Penglai extraction.
Lucius rises. "Uncle." He seems surprised, but remains respectful. His eyes dart to the woman.
Guinevere opens her mouth to retort when someone suddenly barges in. Sizing up the newcomer, she quickly slips into a deep curtsey and remains silent, part of the furniture.
Sandor releases the woman's elbow - sharp eyes will notice faint bruises already forming, although the woman does not issue any complaint. Sandor does not seem happy. "Now listen, kiddo. I don't know what's been going on with you two while you were gone, but I'm pretty sure it didn't involve you telling her to see to /my/ needs. So I think we need to straighten this out."
Lucius's eyes turn sharp as he regards the Penglai woman. "Zhen-Hua. May I ask, of what does my Honoured Uncle speak?"
Although Gwen's head is somewhat lowered in deference to her betters, those emerald eyes sneak a peek at the scantily-clad woman. While an eyebrow lifts, she listens, her own expression as expectant as though she were the one who demanded the information.
The woman keeps her head bowed and her eyes downcast. Sandor answers for her. "Got back to my rooms and found her in my bed, that's what I'm speaking of. Pretty damn sure you didn't put her up to this, but she's still your concern, Lucius." He finally seems to notice Guinevere, and grunts out a "Miss," in a way that might pass for greeting.
Lucius looks sternly to Zhen-Hua, then realizes his oversight. "Miss Guinevere of New Lyonesse, this is Lord Sandor of Karm, my uncle." He replies to Sandor then, "I have given her no such instructions, milord." He regards the Penglai woman. "You are excused to await in your appointed rooms, where we may revisit the terms of Karm's hospitality."
Zhen-Hua drops into a deep bow, and scurries off with great speed. Sandor watches her go, shaking his head. "Don't understand half of things out of her mouth, but she was pretty clear about things."
Realizing that the other man is in no mood for formalities, Gwen keeps her slowly-spoken words soft and ignorable as she again curtsies. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Sandor." She once again falls silent, although her gaze falls back to the other woman, emotions within the orbs unclear.
Lucius looks to Sandor. "My apologies for Zhen-Hua's inappropriate behaviour, milord."
Sandor nods. "I figure you'll handle it." The reality of Guinevere's presence finally seems to sink in, and he squints at Lucius. "Am I interrupting something, kiddo?"
Lucius gestures to Guinevere. "Miss Guinevere had heard of my return, and was paying a social call, I believe." He looks to Gwen expectantly.
Guinevere finally speaks up. "Actually, I wished to clarify business matters, Lord Lucius," she offers with more strength than most of the previous conversation. Still, it takes time for the entire sentence to come out. Each word is annunciated too clearly to be natural.
Lucius nods. "Of course. I have misunderstood."
"Business matters, eh?" Sandor doesn't quite leer, but the look he gives Lucius isn't entirely gentlemanly.
Lucius ignores the look. "Indeed. Miss Guinevere was in my employ as a liason to New Lyonesse. However, I believe circumstances have rendered our previous arrangement unfavourable."
Not so naive as to be oblivious to such a look, Gwen lifts her chin and unabashedly sends a hard stare toward the elder man. In fact, it seems she might speak until Lucius chooses to do so. Gaze shifting back to her boss, she nods. "Precisely why I wished to discuss matters with you. Is the arrangement one that can be altered or will it dissolve entirely?" Despite having been invited to sit, she remains standing ramrod straight, every muscle in her body stiff as she awaits a response.
Sandor looks between Lucius and Guinevere, somewhere between amused and curious.
Lucius looks to Guinevere. "I will not shed responsibility for your well-being, Miss. However, the terms of our business arrangement are quite impossible due to circumstances surely beyond your control. At the very least, our business is suspended for the time being. You may check with Dorian for any wages which may be owing."
Guinevere's mouth twists as though someone has just shoved an extremely sour lemon into it. "I respect your desire to help your fellow immensely, my lord. However..." Her mouth works for a moment, but no sound comes out. She takes a deep breath and tries again. "However, you know me, and any with the proud blood of Lyonesse, well enough to know that I cannot be your charity case." A small, sad smile touches her thin lips and she relaxes enough to slip into her natural New Lyonessian accent. "Besides, ye've got better uses o' yer time an' money than lettin' a street rat pretend ta be somebody special. No matter how nice the illusion."
Sandor actually looks at Guinevere a second time, at that, and there's a different look in his eye. "See, now there's something."
Lucius looks to Guinevere without fazing. "We are what we aspire to be, miss. Shall I call upon you should further opportunity present itself?"
"Tell that ta the kids on the rooftops an' in the alleys aspirin' ta be fed," Gwen comments softly, attempting a smirk. However, the effort causes her eyes to moisten. Although a curious sidelong glance is sent toward Sandor, she forces herself to look back to Lucius. Face reddening, despite her best efforts, she manages to barely more than whisper, "Call on me anytime ye wish, m'lord." She slips something flat and rectangular out of the inside of her right glove and slowly, tentatively crosses the gap between herself and Lucius, holding it out to him. From up close, it is apparent that her hand is shaking.
Lucius looks to the card offered. "It is my understanding that many have been given an opportunity by the Lady Wildemere." He accepts the card. "But I cannot fault your passion." The unspoken fault may be her tone.
Sandor doesn't grab Lucius by the ear. It'd just be embarassing. But it's written in his tone when he speaks up. "Now, hold on here. Looks to me like you're about to let something very stupid happen, kiddo."
Lucius looks to Sandor, but does not speak.
Guinevere keeps silent at the implied chastisement, letting out a breath she did not know she had been holding when he accepts the card. In the middle of her curtseying to Lucius, Sandor's words give her pause. She rises and turns to look at the highest-ranking man in the room with a mixture of interest, hope and fear clear as a bell on her face.
Sandor says, "Now, you go ahead and tell me if I'm butting in here. But from where I stand, it looks like you're about to put an end to something based on 'circumstances', which in my experience usually means anything but. If you can't give a good reason, you don't have a good reason. So educate me, kiddo. Tell me why you're letting this girl go, why you can bother yourself to see to her well-being but you can't bother yourself to give her the means to earn that well-being."
Lucius turns to his uncle. "Forgive my lack of detail, milord. I had previously employed Miss Guinevere to search for elegibile candidates for a knightly order under the aegis of the Crown. This was, of course, under the reign of King Julian. As my liege is no longer King, the support no longer exists."
Although some may be hard-pressed to believe it, Gwen actually does know when she is supposed to shut her mouth. This is one of the few times she heeds that knowledge. Green eyes volley back and forth between the Karm lords as they speak.
Sandor says, "And? Your liege was King for five damn minutes, Lucius. The one before him for ten. Who knows how long this one will last. Today doesn't mean shit - we're working for tomorrow, and next week, and next year. Might be support for it then. Might not be. But I'll swear on Cedric's sword that if you let the fickleness of the Princes dictate your actions, I will dig up your father's bones and kick him in the ass for raising you the way he did."
Lucius raises a brow. "Perhaps this is a conversation for another time."
Guinevere looks straight down to the floor, doing her best to mercilessly smother a grin.
Sandor nods. "Sure. Could be I'm just an ignorant old man, and you've got convincing reasons. I'm not so thick-headed I can't be reasoned with. But I'll tell you this, kiddo. Sharpen those reasons, and don't do anything you can't undo until you've tried 'em out."
Lucius nods. "Thank you for your advice, uncle." But, he does not seem to be changing his mind at the moment.
Guinevere takes the moment to properly curtsey to Lucius. "It has been wond-... a pleasure to serve you, Lord Lucius of Karm." Her accent is forced away again, slowing her words as she does a decent imitation of a noblewoman's speech. After straightening, she looks Lucius in the eye and opens her mouth, only to snap it shut and offer a tiny, polite smile. She turns toward the elder Karm and offers him his own dip of respect. "It has been a -great- pleasure meeting you, Lord Sandor or Karm." Her smile is easier with him, then she turns and heads for the door. Slowly, in those blasted heels.
Sandor gives Lucius a look that promises long future conversations, and lumbers out after Guinevere.
Lucius nods to Guinevere, and watches her go. "Farewell."
--[ Residential Landing West ]------------------------------[ House Karm ]----
The marble landing opens up to the dark carpeted floors dark of the manor residence's level. Dark woods line the passageway and are interspersed with ancient pictures of varying magical creatures. The artwork is worn with age and possibly older than the manor. Recessed doorways rest back from the main hall, nearly obscured by the sweeping archways
---------------------------------------------[ Exits: W SW E NW 1 RE N S ]----
The minute Gwen turns the corner into the hallway, she looks both ways and sighs with relief as she sees no servants. The shoes are angrily kicked off and she blinks rapidly, futilely attempting to prevent tears from falling.
Sandor emerges from Lucius's rooms a moment later, frowning and looking perturbed.
Guinevere mutters an oath under her breath when she spots Sandor. Spinning away from him, she fishes in her sleeve for a kerchief and dabs at her cheeks and eyes. "Somethin' in me eye," she says nowhere near convincingly.
Sandor nods. "Probably smoke," he agrees. "I won't apologize for the boy," he says. "He's a man grown and able to make his own defenses. But he's his father's son, and he can't help that. You get home safe now, miss."
"I dun know what ye mean, m'lord." Gwen's tone is more defensive than she intends it to be. "He's a fine man, mebbe the finest o' all the nobles. He jes... always needs ta do the right thing, even when it's not right, ye ken? He can't help it anymore'n a ladybug ken help havin' spots."
Sandor says, "There's doing the right thing, and there's doing what's right." He looks tired, battered and old. "And there's room between to argue about where nobility goes. Good night."
"Good night, m'lord," Gwen mumbles, shifting her shoulders uncomfortably before going about the business of locating the shoes she previously evicted with great force.