Ilisys Azrubêl with
Lotte
at home on the 5th Circle, eve of 30th December
The dancing flame had been fuelled by a sporadic storm of screwed up papers. The fresh ink that had spilled in hopes of forging a coherent message bled now slowly into charred ash.
Isys watched as the corners of the littered parchment curled in the fireplace, and her heart did not warm any in the comfort of the winter burn.
Lotte approached the high-backed armchair from behind, seeking to decipher from the shadows cast in what mood she might find the lady. Steady, sure as she was to do what she might, irrespective of what might be wanted .. the servant made herself known with the transfer of a glass of damson wine onto a table in her charge’s reach.
“
There is naught to say but silence,” the younger woman remarked, with grey eyes cast down to her hands.
“
They’ve all gone out to the theatre,”
Lotte answered the topic she she did not rightly comprehend, with another, although gently. For mention of the theatre itself .. met the telltale sight of what was turning over and over in
Isys’s fingers. A certain telescope. It had been all that had been in the man’s possession when she had handed him over to the Guards, the first time. The man who had squatted for some considerable time within the Theatre’s cloisters. It did not take a wild guess to know what sort of a letter the lady had attempted to write, and apparently failed. Without comment, the elder woman took up a poker and crushed the screwed up papers so that there was no danger of them falling from the hearth to set the room ablaze. It was doubtful whether even such a peril would move the lady from her quiet reflection. “
I’ll be about some hours yet if you should need me,” she could not depart without mentioning. She set toward removing the ink pot and quill, now that there was no more parchment for either to dance over, and the younger woman glanced up from her preoccupation. She nodded once as the beloved servant made with an exit.
The telescope dropped from numbed hands even as the door clicked quietly back to a close, and rolled across the opulent rug as though it too would seek to warm itself in the treacherous heat of the hearth. Emptied fingers flew to keep it from any such a fate however. It was not until
Isys resumed herself properly into her seat, that she noted her tightened grasp upon the metal cylinder had incited a small click, which spoke of the small twist which extended the scope into a greater length. The only now revealed portion of the trunk felt different against her skin than the shorter tube had before. Eyes narrowed to carry out a proper inspection but there was nothing obvious to observe. Still skin searched it to discern what eyes it seemed were unable to see.
It was not until she rose to take advantage of the greater light cavorting in the fireplace, that she caught the glimpse of curved runes when she passed by where the curtain was askance, and moonlight lanced into the room. Paused in her progress, the lady turned proper to the window and what the night sky might illuminate. Cold as that light may be, the words that moonlight divulged warmed the woman’s heart more wholesomely than the fire had ever managed to.
@Rillewen @Arnyn
Addhor and
Domanol Raxëlilta
residence above ‘Wood Works’ shop, 2nd Circle - Marketplace.
Same eve, 30th December
The urgency with which the door was thrown aside told of the most likely arrival.
Addhor did not even turn to mark who had entered his home. For he knew the company he was expecting.
“
You are early,” he remarked, concentration retained about his task.
“
Running late actually ..” his brother corrected him, spurring the elder sibling to turn where he stood, in surprise. “
So clearly you thought that I was somebody else. Is your lovely lady friend coming to ..”
“
Unalmis is coming over for dinner tonight,”
Addhor took his turn now at correcting
Domanol’s assumption. “
As he does every week on this night ..” he further mentioned, as though such a habit ought to keep his brother from teasing him. As though he did not know by now that nothing would keep his brother from such a habit himself. “
I understood that you have plans with your lovely lady friend ?”
“
Yessh,” he was rewarded with agreement, even if the younger man gave up such a response around a bite of a bread roll he had helped himself to. “
I just wanted to change my clothes first.”
“
Wash up,” he was instructed, as though that were the better answer or in fact a directive all of it’s own.
Addhor picked up and placed the plate that was being scavenged out of
Domanol’s reach, before he gave his brother another glance. “
Where are you going ?” he wondered, gesturing with his head toward the sink. With a roll of brown eyes, the younger obliged him. Mostly to spare himself the trouble of arguing the matter.
“
You’ll laugh,” came the warning. And yet the elder did not, yet. An expectant gaze with equally brown eyes simply awaited explanations. “
She’s been invited to the theatre,”
Domanol admitted. “
Strung me along for the opportunity as well. And since I turned her down the last time a group thing was ..”
“
You’re going to the theatre ..” his brother was forced to ensure he hadn’t just misheard. “
You ?”
“
Are you going deaf or senile ?” he was asked in return. But
Addhor calmly took his saucepan off the stove, and left the room. Blinking,
Dom trotted after him, supposing he might find some explanation for himself now.
“
Do not make a mess of this,” he was warned, as the elder brother rooted out a long black coat from his closet and laid it across the bed. “
It should fit well enough,” he added a white shirt and then delved further for the remainder of a fitting ensemble.
“
I don’t see that there’s any need for that,”
Dom sat on the bed and was forced to shuffle slightly as his brother immediately dragged the clothes he had just sat upon out from under him. “
The beard was a joke. But if I start dressing like you too ..?”
“
What did you think you were going to wear ?” he was asked to explain himself, and glanced instinctively down to one corner of the room, which was noticeably empty. Just where he had recently thrown the clothes he’d worn for the masquerade. A frown inspired his brother to explain. “
The mess you left crumpled in the corner of the room was in no state to be seen.”
“
We’ll be sitting in the dark,”
Dom groaned in protest. “
Its the best I have. I really don’t think she’ll care any if it’s a little crumpled. What did you do ? Burn it ? Because it was left out of place ?”
“
You won’t even get through the front door of the theatre, looking like a pile of crumpled laundry,” the warning was served up, utterly ignoring all attempts to insult. “
Make an effort. For her sake, if not your own.”
“
Well I always used to climb up the back steps and through the ..” the reaction to even the start of his plan silenced any thought of speaking out the rest. He had an entire misspent youth of sneaking into the rafters to watch plays as experience to support his expectation. If not to watch a play, then to try and get a glimpse of the actresses getting dressed beforehand. It had always been a plan to no avail but the journey was still easily recalled. “
Since when do you have the threads to dress up for the theatre anyway ?” he wanted to know.
“
I went on the Winter Cruise last year,”
Addhor admitted, even as he turned back to tend to his kitchen.
“
With ..”
Domanol ventured a guess. Or began to.
“
Yes,” the answer revealed that the question was quite evident.
A smile found it’s way to the younger brother’s face even as he fought with the samples of his brother’s wardrobe and was shocked to find it was not too uncomfortable. A quick wipe over his boots with one sleeve returned some semblance of their former shine and that sleeve was easily concealed by the jacket’s own.
Dom crossed one trousered leg idly in front of the other, leaning against the doorframe some moments later. He watched the meal as it began to come together. Almost sorry there was no time to stay and enjoy it with them.
“
Are you set with coin ?”
Add wanted to know, thoughts occurring to him as he focused on the dinner he was preparing.
“
Narry filled my hand, for helping him out,” was the response. “
I’m not an idiot. But look, I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”
A shake of his brother’s head accompanied one single raised hand. The elder did not want to know. A bell tolled somewhere outside and they both glanced toward the window.
Addhor found his way to checking on
Domanol’s finished efforts, glanced him over quickly and seemed satisfied.
“
You’re late,” the elder remembered, pointedly. The hug then caught him from behind, and was delivered without words. The hasty charge down the stairs moments after concluded with the second slam of the door in so short a time. The elder shook his head slowly and returned what focus he could unto preparing the evening meal. Frowning, as he wondered why there was now a second bread roll less than he remembered setting out. It was not a mystery which required too much thought though. And before long the door sounded again from below, and a new set of steps pounded up the stairs.
“
I’m early” his son celebrated, ever before showing his face.
“
You’re right on time,” he was corrected in his turn now, as
Addhor set their two plates on the table, and gestured for
Nal to take his seat. “
So, tell. What has my son been up to, today ?”
“
Well, don’t tell my father,”
Nal took his seat and joined in their usual game. “
But his son has been out taking a good friend on a long overdue tour. The healer.”
“
There is more than one healer,” his parent pointed out.
“
The Rohir,” his son clarified. “
He’s here for sort of a training cultural exchange ?” His reminder found a nod as the explanation recalled the fact.
“
Xyler.”
Addhor proved he had been listening previously.
The absence of any correction this time confirmed there was no need. And as the father did not ask for further details, the son was able to keep his secret, his truth, about just what he had wanted to talk to
Xyler about. Still the evening-in commenced with as much interest and enjoyment for the two, as the evening-out promised to prove for the other of their clan.
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