09-28-2016, 04:10 PM
“Like this?”
Ever the consummate actress when it suited her, Nythadri said it with all seriousness - though her delicate handling of the instrument was anything but clumsy, if any cared to notice. As she rested it under her chin, her eyes never left Pedar’s face. A slight smile tugged the edges of her lips, but she relinquished the jest when the bow met strings. There was no showmanship as the notes joined to improvised melody, the faint roar of the sea like a rhythmic anchor to the soaring and wistful tone. Her eyes drifted shut for a while, but she was too aware of her small audience to succumb entirely; the last thing she wanted was a spectacle. She stopped when Daryen’s guests began to return in number, and the silence that swallowed the last lingering notes was like emptiness. Still, she was laughing when she handed the violin back.
Pedar blinked, sharing glances with his companions as he accepted his instrument, and then he laughed too. “Deception!”
She shrugged. “Assumption?”
“Well, you missed your calling, that’s for certain.”
“Or, more aptly, was pulled in another direction.”
Which happened to be something of a running theme of her life. Or maybe it was that she was never truly satisfied with the things she could have, and failed to truly appreciated the things she did. Her conversation with Yui drifted in the back of her mind, plucking discord through the brief moment of peace. Am I going to spend my whole life dissatisfied? So strange that she could choose to be unhappy when she led a life of such privilege, or that she could so vehemently fight the quickest paths to freedom. She remembered the meaning behind a white orchid, but left the thought unfinished for another time.
She’d spent a long time with the musicians; longer than she'd intended. Darkness had fallen, thick and warm as velvet. All the torches and candles were lit to brilliance, so that it was as if Daryen’s courtyards were the only things existing in the darkness. It seemed the King himself was yet to arrive else the feast would have started, so it left some time to wander. She excused herself, and promised to find the musicians later, if she was able.
The music had settled something in her heart, brokering an equilibrium that would hold for now. It felt close to normality; the dusk, the candlelight, the unobtrusive company. Shadows were easy to navigate. She watched the Domani nobility as they passed, dressed for the evening in all their finery. It could not have been more distant from the refined modesty of Andor’s courts; the svelte silhouettes of women draped in dangerously sheer, figure-hugging fabrics; the coy glances of kohl smoked eyes; spicy perfumes, exotic blends of musk. In places flame hid behind coloured glass, splashing a kaleidoscope pinks and purples and oranges and blues; eventually she discovered different colours, scents, music – all for different moods. It was extravagant, and felt vast – as though Daryen’s outside courtyards dominated the whole of the cliff-face, though probably she was just overwhelmed in an unfamiliar place. Still, it was far removed from the docile if heat-soaked start to the day. Only the undercurrent of gossip remained, but that was something as universal as maggots on corpses.
She was looking for Jai, but she found Tamal. He sat in one of the colour-splashed corners, his injured foot propped up on cushions and his expression cast sullen. She paused. He did not look up to acknowledge her, even though her shadow cast dimness over the rising gold bubbles he contemplated in his glass. He was conspicuously alone, and Nythadri wondered if it had anything to do with the nature of Daryen’s chastisement. Surely there were worse things for a man than the scandal of illegitimate children, though perhaps her moral standing on such things was a little skewed.
“Take it from me, my Lord. Gossip only lasts until the next tide. A week from now and no-one will care how many bastards you’ve sired.”
It wasn’t quite from kindness she spoke, though he did look up like she had cast down a hand to stop him from drowning - for a moment, at least, before he recognised her face or her dress or both, and then the underlying callous of the words bit at him.
“I shouldn’t even think anyone will remember after tonight. Do you lend an ear to hear ‘say, Accepted? Might be it would benefit you, if you did.”
His venom was immeasurably diluted compared to Imaad’s, impeded further by the paleness of his face when he looked up, large dark eyes haunted by the moments that had nearly marked his death. His attempts to goad her left no impression, and she frowned.
“Your brother nearly saw you killed today. And for what? Jai hardly poses a threat to Daryen’s intent to negotiate. However close they are, it makes no difference. So why the attack?”
There were no bridges to be built here; she could sense it in his expression, an underline of fear or hate that drew him away from her appeal. She might have tried, otherwise, to coax truths out of him, just for the charm of leading him to betray his blood. His lips flickered a smile that looked more like he fought a wave of sickness than the satisfaction of secrets. He was disconnected, just as he had been at the morning reception. Then she had assumed it was because he had been sent to speak to her unwilling, but now it felt more like… fear. But not even as simple as that. Revulsion.
He looked up, holding her gaze for long moments, and for an instant she thought he might throw her a cryptic answer. In the end he only shrugged. “You’ll have to ask my brother.”
She watched him a moment longer as his head dipped back to observing his glass, and wondered what thoughts harrowed him more. The memory of an enraged Asha'man intent on murder. Or his brother. Maybe I will ask Imaad. But first, she would find Jai. It shouldn't have been difficult given the austerity of his uniform, but there was no trace of him beyond the occasional mentions of his name. Eventually she circled back, out of the warmth and colour of the socialising court, and back to the long feast tables still bustling with busy servants; then, beyond that, where lights were just lights instead of atmosphere, lighting cool stone bereft of heat now the sun had gone. The sound of the sea was louder, though it was invisible to the night, and the hum of laughter and conversation was blissfully distant. In flimsy domani day-garb, it was almost cold out here. Sea-air whisked the hair from her face as she leaned on the railing, chin resting in her palm, staring out into darkness, and reflecting on the things Yui had said.
Edited by Natalie Grey, Sep 28 2016, 04:11 PM.
Ever the consummate actress when it suited her, Nythadri said it with all seriousness - though her delicate handling of the instrument was anything but clumsy, if any cared to notice. As she rested it under her chin, her eyes never left Pedar’s face. A slight smile tugged the edges of her lips, but she relinquished the jest when the bow met strings. There was no showmanship as the notes joined to improvised melody, the faint roar of the sea like a rhythmic anchor to the soaring and wistful tone. Her eyes drifted shut for a while, but she was too aware of her small audience to succumb entirely; the last thing she wanted was a spectacle. She stopped when Daryen’s guests began to return in number, and the silence that swallowed the last lingering notes was like emptiness. Still, she was laughing when she handed the violin back.
Pedar blinked, sharing glances with his companions as he accepted his instrument, and then he laughed too. “Deception!”
She shrugged. “Assumption?”
“Well, you missed your calling, that’s for certain.”
“Or, more aptly, was pulled in another direction.”
Which happened to be something of a running theme of her life. Or maybe it was that she was never truly satisfied with the things she could have, and failed to truly appreciated the things she did. Her conversation with Yui drifted in the back of her mind, plucking discord through the brief moment of peace. Am I going to spend my whole life dissatisfied? So strange that she could choose to be unhappy when she led a life of such privilege, or that she could so vehemently fight the quickest paths to freedom. She remembered the meaning behind a white orchid, but left the thought unfinished for another time.
She’d spent a long time with the musicians; longer than she'd intended. Darkness had fallen, thick and warm as velvet. All the torches and candles were lit to brilliance, so that it was as if Daryen’s courtyards were the only things existing in the darkness. It seemed the King himself was yet to arrive else the feast would have started, so it left some time to wander. She excused herself, and promised to find the musicians later, if she was able.
The music had settled something in her heart, brokering an equilibrium that would hold for now. It felt close to normality; the dusk, the candlelight, the unobtrusive company. Shadows were easy to navigate. She watched the Domani nobility as they passed, dressed for the evening in all their finery. It could not have been more distant from the refined modesty of Andor’s courts; the svelte silhouettes of women draped in dangerously sheer, figure-hugging fabrics; the coy glances of kohl smoked eyes; spicy perfumes, exotic blends of musk. In places flame hid behind coloured glass, splashing a kaleidoscope pinks and purples and oranges and blues; eventually she discovered different colours, scents, music – all for different moods. It was extravagant, and felt vast – as though Daryen’s outside courtyards dominated the whole of the cliff-face, though probably she was just overwhelmed in an unfamiliar place. Still, it was far removed from the docile if heat-soaked start to the day. Only the undercurrent of gossip remained, but that was something as universal as maggots on corpses.
She was looking for Jai, but she found Tamal. He sat in one of the colour-splashed corners, his injured foot propped up on cushions and his expression cast sullen. She paused. He did not look up to acknowledge her, even though her shadow cast dimness over the rising gold bubbles he contemplated in his glass. He was conspicuously alone, and Nythadri wondered if it had anything to do with the nature of Daryen’s chastisement. Surely there were worse things for a man than the scandal of illegitimate children, though perhaps her moral standing on such things was a little skewed.
“Take it from me, my Lord. Gossip only lasts until the next tide. A week from now and no-one will care how many bastards you’ve sired.”
It wasn’t quite from kindness she spoke, though he did look up like she had cast down a hand to stop him from drowning - for a moment, at least, before he recognised her face or her dress or both, and then the underlying callous of the words bit at him.
“I shouldn’t even think anyone will remember after tonight. Do you lend an ear to hear ‘say, Accepted? Might be it would benefit you, if you did.”
His venom was immeasurably diluted compared to Imaad’s, impeded further by the paleness of his face when he looked up, large dark eyes haunted by the moments that had nearly marked his death. His attempts to goad her left no impression, and she frowned.
“Your brother nearly saw you killed today. And for what? Jai hardly poses a threat to Daryen’s intent to negotiate. However close they are, it makes no difference. So why the attack?”
There were no bridges to be built here; she could sense it in his expression, an underline of fear or hate that drew him away from her appeal. She might have tried, otherwise, to coax truths out of him, just for the charm of leading him to betray his blood. His lips flickered a smile that looked more like he fought a wave of sickness than the satisfaction of secrets. He was disconnected, just as he had been at the morning reception. Then she had assumed it was because he had been sent to speak to her unwilling, but now it felt more like… fear. But not even as simple as that. Revulsion.
He looked up, holding her gaze for long moments, and for an instant she thought he might throw her a cryptic answer. In the end he only shrugged. “You’ll have to ask my brother.”
She watched him a moment longer as his head dipped back to observing his glass, and wondered what thoughts harrowed him more. The memory of an enraged Asha'man intent on murder. Or his brother. Maybe I will ask Imaad. But first, she would find Jai. It shouldn't have been difficult given the austerity of his uniform, but there was no trace of him beyond the occasional mentions of his name. Eventually she circled back, out of the warmth and colour of the socialising court, and back to the long feast tables still bustling with busy servants; then, beyond that, where lights were just lights instead of atmosphere, lighting cool stone bereft of heat now the sun had gone. The sound of the sea was louder, though it was invisible to the night, and the hum of laughter and conversation was blissfully distant. In flimsy domani day-garb, it was almost cold out here. Sea-air whisked the hair from her face as she leaned on the railing, chin resting in her palm, staring out into darkness, and reflecting on the things Yui had said.
Edited by Natalie Grey, Sep 28 2016, 04:11 PM.