Reefs and shallows and wreckers off rocks...
Yesterday was mostly spent in pubs, which makes me sound a bit awful but bollocks to that.
I met up with Spacedmonkey and we nattered over cider and exchanged Twelfth Night giftings. My offerings were a bit haphazard as I hadn't had the time to do anything properly creative. Spacedmonkey on the other hand had compiled a box of DOOM for me which had so many things and layers and strata I felt in need of archaeologists tools. *hugs her box* So very very shiny =)
After that was home and pondering the complexities of Undone and how to fix an overly broken Captain of the Arkers whilst munching on animal biscuits.
Then I scampered off to say hello to people in the Ravensbourne and watch as they tried to kill each other with darts. I made Dave T listen to Dr Who songs, annoyed Nick by not letting him torture a candle, stole some of Izzy's chips, was called hard-core by the barmaid for drinking neat vodka, and was told that Kez and Antoine needed to have a conversation. There was conversation, and hence - story!
===============
A little before dawn, Keziah awoke, thinking she heard the latch lift on the door. The room was empty; Antoine was not beside her, which meant he had still to return from his hunting trip with the Duke of Buckingham.
She stretched, then reached across to the side table, seeking a pin - a ribbon - an anlace - anything that might be used to discourage her hair from being forever in her eyes. What she found instead was a jewellery box. Inside was her necklace, the bone, moonstone and pearl one stolen from her at the docks, and a note in Antoine's hand that read simply, "Do not touch it." The mystery of why she shouldn't touch her own jewellery was eclipsed by the greater mystery of why Antoine had obviously returned to the Inn and yet had neither woken her nor come to sleep beside her.
The side of Kez that had joined in the bawdy songs in the dockside alehouses until even her brother blushed, that listened to gossip and learnt cant, that could be surprisingly filthy-minded, suggested that Antoine might be feeling somewhat sore and mildly embarrassed if he'd been favoured for any 'special attention' by the Duke of Buckingham. Or he might just have caused another political 'incident'. (They were all alarmingly good at that...) Keziah sighed; threw a cloak over her shift and padded downstairs in search of her errant husband.
She found him in the common room, looking as sick and miserable as a whipped puppy. Oh dear, she thought. Need I start a vendetta against Buckingham now? She crouched next to him. "Why are you down here?"
"I have no right to be by your side."
One eyebrow arched like the back of a black cat. "Oh?"
Antoine could barely look at her. "I betrayed you. I lied to you." The self-loathing in his voice almost choked him.
Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time a shiver of unease squirmed in her stomach. "Lied to me?"
"Yes!"
The fear died as she was reminded in that wild shout just who it was she was talking to. Antoine, darling idiot, straight-laced enough to fit a corset, ready to kill and to die for honour. "Tell me," she ordered softly.
The tale was garbled, but that was only because Antoine's focus was on the horror of the fact that he had slept with this green-eyed hussy from the hunting company, where as Kez was far more interested in the fact that the bitch had stolen his signet ring and also that Angus had called her a succubus and that the throwing of salt had set Antoine's mind in balance again.
"She stole your signet ring?" Kez muttered a few choice words in Spanish. "That will cause trouble..."
"Trouble? Do you not understand what I've told you?! How can you care about my signet ring when I've confessed to betraying you?"
Because you don't, she thought. You've lost a family seal, a symbol of the San Michael, and you're tearing yourself apart over tupping an emerald eyed bitch. Honourable Antoine, the good little soldier, cares more that he may have betrayed and broken my heart than lost a piece of San Michael honour. She shrugged. She'd half resigned herself to the likelihood that something would happen on the hunt - it was the Duke of Buckingham for the love of god - she'd heard the stories. The fact that something had, that Angus cried witchery and that Antoine was so supremely miserable, meant she found she didn't mind. No, that wasn't true, she did mind very much - there was a dark and feral something uncoiling in her soul that had a smile full of knives - but that wasn't for Antoine. That was for the whore who'd had him. "You're mine," she told him, as if that explained everything. "Come to bed."
He almost flinched. "How can you be so calm? How can..."
"You're mine. I love you. You're an idiot." She offered her hand. "You're my husband."
His eyes were very wide and he shied from her hand as if it was a lit fuse. "How can you possibly be so forgiving?"
She laughed. "Forgiving! You should speak to my cousin, he calls me vengeful - we've argued about it often..."
"I don't want to talk to your cousin I want to talk to you!" There was enough sparked ire in that to get him to his feet.
Keziah stood and looked at him, trying to steady his temper as shadow might dampen a fire. "What would you have me do?" she asked gently.
"Hate me - curse me - demand my sword - kill me!"
"What good would that do me?"
"Good?" he was confused. "I deserve it!"
"You are such an idiot," she muttered fondly. "I love you. You're my husband. I have no wish to go through life embittered or widowed. How can we stand together against the world if I..."
"I betrayed you!" it was a wail. "Why are you not hitting me or..."
She was curious. "Would it help?"
"No - yes - probably - I don't know!"
She sighed, a short huff of exasperation. "Very well." She took a half step back and then swung, delivering a slap with enough force to crack his head to the side and leave a mark almost as livid as a brand which would bloom to a bruise within the hour. "That is for what you did," she said in a voice like winter frost. Then she stepped towards him, her hands resting lightly by his neck and jaw as she kissed him with all the care and passion she possessed. "And that is because you're forgiven."
Antoine blinked at her, dazed. "You never cease to amaze me..." He swallowed. "I will hunt her down..."
"No you won't," Kez informed him sternly, taking his hand in hers. And then with a wicked grin, "I shall. But you can join in," she allowed grandly.
"I..."
"You wanted penance - this is your penance. She's mine to kill."
He inclined his head. "As you wish."
"Now come to bed. My feet are freezing..."
=============
I think the fact Kez didn't kill him or have a screaming fit surprised everyone - even me a little bit. I'd forgotten how supremely practical she was capable of being. La.
Then I went home, singing the Harbinger song to ward off shamblies.
I approve of yesterday, it had lots of meekle things in it =)
I met up with Spacedmonkey and we nattered over cider and exchanged Twelfth Night giftings. My offerings were a bit haphazard as I hadn't had the time to do anything properly creative. Spacedmonkey on the other hand had compiled a box of DOOM for me which had so many things and layers and strata I felt in need of archaeologists tools. *hugs her box* So very very shiny =)
After that was home and pondering the complexities of Undone and how to fix an overly broken Captain of the Arkers whilst munching on animal biscuits.
Then I scampered off to say hello to people in the Ravensbourne and watch as they tried to kill each other with darts. I made Dave T listen to Dr Who songs, annoyed Nick by not letting him torture a candle, stole some of Izzy's chips, was called hard-core by the barmaid for drinking neat vodka, and was told that Kez and Antoine needed to have a conversation. There was conversation, and hence - story!
===============
A little before dawn, Keziah awoke, thinking she heard the latch lift on the door. The room was empty; Antoine was not beside her, which meant he had still to return from his hunting trip with the Duke of Buckingham.
She stretched, then reached across to the side table, seeking a pin - a ribbon - an anlace - anything that might be used to discourage her hair from being forever in her eyes. What she found instead was a jewellery box. Inside was her necklace, the bone, moonstone and pearl one stolen from her at the docks, and a note in Antoine's hand that read simply, "Do not touch it." The mystery of why she shouldn't touch her own jewellery was eclipsed by the greater mystery of why Antoine had obviously returned to the Inn and yet had neither woken her nor come to sleep beside her.
The side of Kez that had joined in the bawdy songs in the dockside alehouses until even her brother blushed, that listened to gossip and learnt cant, that could be surprisingly filthy-minded, suggested that Antoine might be feeling somewhat sore and mildly embarrassed if he'd been favoured for any 'special attention' by the Duke of Buckingham. Or he might just have caused another political 'incident'. (They were all alarmingly good at that...) Keziah sighed; threw a cloak over her shift and padded downstairs in search of her errant husband.
She found him in the common room, looking as sick and miserable as a whipped puppy. Oh dear, she thought. Need I start a vendetta against Buckingham now? She crouched next to him. "Why are you down here?"
"I have no right to be by your side."
One eyebrow arched like the back of a black cat. "Oh?"
Antoine could barely look at her. "I betrayed you. I lied to you." The self-loathing in his voice almost choked him.
Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time a shiver of unease squirmed in her stomach. "Lied to me?"
"Yes!"
The fear died as she was reminded in that wild shout just who it was she was talking to. Antoine, darling idiot, straight-laced enough to fit a corset, ready to kill and to die for honour. "Tell me," she ordered softly.
The tale was garbled, but that was only because Antoine's focus was on the horror of the fact that he had slept with this green-eyed hussy from the hunting company, where as Kez was far more interested in the fact that the bitch had stolen his signet ring and also that Angus had called her a succubus and that the throwing of salt had set Antoine's mind in balance again.
"She stole your signet ring?" Kez muttered a few choice words in Spanish. "That will cause trouble..."
"Trouble? Do you not understand what I've told you?! How can you care about my signet ring when I've confessed to betraying you?"
Because you don't, she thought. You've lost a family seal, a symbol of the San Michael, and you're tearing yourself apart over tupping an emerald eyed bitch. Honourable Antoine, the good little soldier, cares more that he may have betrayed and broken my heart than lost a piece of San Michael honour. She shrugged. She'd half resigned herself to the likelihood that something would happen on the hunt - it was the Duke of Buckingham for the love of god - she'd heard the stories. The fact that something had, that Angus cried witchery and that Antoine was so supremely miserable, meant she found she didn't mind. No, that wasn't true, she did mind very much - there was a dark and feral something uncoiling in her soul that had a smile full of knives - but that wasn't for Antoine. That was for the whore who'd had him. "You're mine," she told him, as if that explained everything. "Come to bed."
He almost flinched. "How can you be so calm? How can..."
"You're mine. I love you. You're an idiot." She offered her hand. "You're my husband."
His eyes were very wide and he shied from her hand as if it was a lit fuse. "How can you possibly be so forgiving?"
She laughed. "Forgiving! You should speak to my cousin, he calls me vengeful - we've argued about it often..."
"I don't want to talk to your cousin I want to talk to you!" There was enough sparked ire in that to get him to his feet.
Keziah stood and looked at him, trying to steady his temper as shadow might dampen a fire. "What would you have me do?" she asked gently.
"Hate me - curse me - demand my sword - kill me!"
"What good would that do me?"
"Good?" he was confused. "I deserve it!"
"You are such an idiot," she muttered fondly. "I love you. You're my husband. I have no wish to go through life embittered or widowed. How can we stand together against the world if I..."
"I betrayed you!" it was a wail. "Why are you not hitting me or..."
She was curious. "Would it help?"
"No - yes - probably - I don't know!"
She sighed, a short huff of exasperation. "Very well." She took a half step back and then swung, delivering a slap with enough force to crack his head to the side and leave a mark almost as livid as a brand which would bloom to a bruise within the hour. "That is for what you did," she said in a voice like winter frost. Then she stepped towards him, her hands resting lightly by his neck and jaw as she kissed him with all the care and passion she possessed. "And that is because you're forgiven."
Antoine blinked at her, dazed. "You never cease to amaze me..." He swallowed. "I will hunt her down..."
"No you won't," Kez informed him sternly, taking his hand in hers. And then with a wicked grin, "I shall. But you can join in," she allowed grandly.
"I..."
"You wanted penance - this is your penance. She's mine to kill."
He inclined his head. "As you wish."
"Now come to bed. My feet are freezing..."
=============
I think the fact Kez didn't kill him or have a screaming fit surprised everyone - even me a little bit. I'd forgotten how supremely practical she was capable of being. La.
Then I went home, singing the Harbinger song to ward off shamblies.
I approve of yesterday, it had lots of meekle things in it =)