₪ everything's contagious it's a modern middle ages
The question-and-answer aspect of the nexus has always entertained Martel - mostly because he's a sick bastard who enjoys other people making idiots of themselves now and then - but it's been a very rare occasion that he'd indulge himself, and rarer still that he'd indulge it stone cold sober.
He'd like very much not to be stone cold sober, ( Read more... )
Thus, he finds his way to the agora without much in the way of preamble, and upon finding the agora, spots a particularly arresting sight that is rather too distinctive to avoid his attention, and, as you do when you're an Alcione with rather more wryness in your diet than your sister's physician recommends, finds himself wandering over for a closer look.
"You're in remarkable health for a dead man," he offers, congenially and without a hint of the perplexity rumbling underneath his features and by the way completely sidestepping Martel's question in the process.
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...well, it's been a while since this happened; Martel considers, philosophically, that he was probably about due. Usually they're not so polite about it, though, and he doesn't think he recognizes this man - also unusual. (If only he knew how Davidias were identifying him.)
So he pauses, but only for a moment. "If only my wife and physician were as sanguine about it," he says, dryly, casting an appraising eye over the- Deiran? Yes, that accent has to be Deiran.
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Davidias' face fractures with bemusement just a little at the mention of 'wife', there - this is evidently at odds with the mental image of Martel he's inherited from the various accounts of the man told in his presence - but Davidias has a potent poker face when he bothers trying (he usually doesn't, it's more fun that way).
"In my experience, wives and physicians are rarely sanguine about anything involving their husbands and bodily injury. Although I wonder what kind of injury could be more vexing to a wife than death. It seems like most anything else rather pales in comparison, doesn't it?"
The flippancy's a bit forced, but that part should be obvious.
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"I completely agree," he says, silkily, not making this any easier; the attitude is more familiar than the man himself, and Martel is remarkably not inclined to take mercy on his fellow Elenes. Particularly the ones who know who he is, and particularly those he doesn't recognize that do- he's never liked the sensation of 'not knowing'.
(It's got him in trouble in the past, that.)
"So you'd think, having died once and being little the worse for wear, she'd worry less."
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"Remarkably, the more harm a man successfully survives, the more worried women seem to become over his health, rather than less. Such a perplexing contradiction, don't you think? Women are strange creatures that way." Davidias smiles invitingly, as if he's letting Martel in on something they'll both find amusing. "Though - I suppose if I had a problem with it, then I'd truly be a fool for having taken a most appallingly contradictory woman to wife. It's a very good thing I find that trait appealing."
Let's see how long they can carry this conversation on completely superficial topics, that should be entertaining.
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"A moment of silence, if you will, for the plight of my brother the good Prince Consort," he suggests piously, "for marrying such a woman with the power to clap him in irons if he irritates her. I have every faith in his ability to provoke a woman."
...that's an interesting place to take this, Martel, don't be a jerk when Sparhawk wants to reconcile with you.
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"Damn, is that what does it? If only I'd known." This is Martel freely implying he'd have been the better knight if he hadn't been thrown out, yes, and that that is clearly why Candice fusses at him. (Not because he's a pain in the ass who sometimes sets himself on fire when not supervised. No, that has nothing to do with it. Not that and certainly not occasionally making jokes about terrorizing peasants.)
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... Davidias.
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"Ah, yes. After all, there was only one." Better man. Martel's curiosity as to exactly who it is that clearly both a) knows who he is and b) still thinks sassing him about his excommunication is a good idea - well, it's a little more open now that they're apparently dragging this topic out into the light of their 'easy' conversation.
Whoever Davidias is, the man has balls.
"Should I know my accuser?" he inquires, pleasantly.
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"It's hardly an accusation," Davidias responds smoothly, "when you said it yourself: there was only one better." He doesn't shrug so much as settle back onto his heels in a quiet sort of satisfaction. "I am certainly not he. I'm just a country knight: Sir Davidias, Count of Gatas." He tilts his head, and leaves off the usual pleasantries that could follow such an introduction.
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Martel pauses here as he makes the connection - it's been a long time since that conversation with Sparhawk, and he's thought rarely of it since - but when he does realize, the peal of laughter that comes is sudden and honest.
"And how is my lady lately?"
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In case anyone was curious: the Lady Petrana's preferred type is at least two parts trollery to one part everything else, yes.
"She's pampering the enormous lump of fur she calls a wolf-hound into an attention-glutted torpor, which means she's content and happy and I have done something especially right that she feels deserves rewarding by deliberately favoring the bane of my existence. I believe that means she is well, by the standards of the day."
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"I'm sure if the Margrave-" that's an interesting way of referring to his father, "-had realized it was some other man's life he'd be making more difficult, he'd have been less inclined to corrupt her for his own entertainment."
With his love of dogs. What a terrible sin.
...'corrupt her', all things considered, is an inflammatory sort of a thing to say.
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