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edenfallingFor branchandroot:
In which there is a tense meeting that notionally doubles as a dinner party (except not really, aside from the French onion soup), Jean-Claude probably wonders what the hell he was thinking by inviting Anita and Richard to the same place at the same time, and Arthur and Ariadne continue to flirt something awful. (1,600 words)
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Weregild, part 18
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Jean-Claude kept good chefs, Arthur decided as he savored the first spoonful of soup, the saltiness of the cheese and bread melding perfectly with the dark broth and the slippery warmth of the onion slices. He managed one more spoonful before the inevitable reaction to his news burst like a violent wave.
Ms. Blake's, "Who are these people and--" clashed with the Ulfric's, "Wait a minute, are you saying--" and the lesser wolf's, "Oh, fucking hell, we're all going to--"
Arthur let the noise wash over him, waiting for Jean-Claude to yank on his people's leashes. The lesser wolf -- Jason Schuyler -- quieted first, presumably glared or called into submission. Ms. Blake and the Ulfric continued to talk over each other for several more seconds, until Jean-Claude set his hands on their shoulders.
This was evidently unusual enough to distract them. Jean-Claude took full advantage of that momentary silence.
"Please, Richard, Anita, I know you are concerned. Believe me when I say I share your anger. But we will learn nothing if we do not give ourselves the space to think and Arthur and Dominick the chance to elaborate and answer our questions."
The Ulfric gave the vampire a hard look, but held his peace. Ms. Blake was evidently a harder sell. She crossed her arms and glared at Jean-Claude. "This is exactly the kind of shit I didn't have to deal with before I met you," she proclaimed.
"You have my sincerest apologies, ma petite," Jean-Claude said. "Consider this: the sooner we learn the shape of the situation, the sooner you can safely wash your hands of, as you say, this particular instance of shit." He favored Ms. Blake with a coaxing smile.
"Smarmy as ever," Dom muttered under his breath. Asher tensed, and Arthur stretched his right leg sideways to grind his heel warningly into Dom's foot.
"Fine," Ms. Blake conceded, letting her hands fall back to her sides. "Ask your questions and get this show over with."
"As you wish," Jean-Claude said, removing his hand from her shoulder with a parting caress -- which was more subtly mirrored by his left hand on the Ulfric's shirt. Arthur kept his face politely blank and kicked himself for not noticing that Jean-Claude had been touching both members of his triumvirate the entire time. Neither of them had seemed to notice either, despite their clear antagonism toward him. Interesting.
"You said last night that you knew the subject of the petition which Saito and Fisher brought to the Council," Jean-Claude said, folding his hands neatly before him on the empty tablecloth where his plate would have rested. "Tonight you say that the Council has decided that they are the only official claimants for the Earthmover's seat, and their contest must take place in my city. I had not been aware that either Fisher or Saito had an interest in joining the Council, yet you speak as if this is common knowledge. Explain."
Dom leaned forward, staring earnestly at Jean-Claude's chin. "It's not common knowledge, which is why the information is valuable. The Council wants to wrong-foot you, make you look foolish, weak, and unprepared to deal with people of influence. They're not happy about the last few years, neither the Earthmover's fate nor the implied insult you offered by turning down his seat."
"Yes, this is obvious, but why do Saito and Fisher wish to claim the seat at all?" Jean-Claude said, clearly unmoved by Dom's projected warmth.
Arthur looked up from his soup and said, "It's an extension of their dick-measuring contest."
Ms. Blake laughed, brief and almost grudging, like he'd slipped past her determined dislike for him. Beside him, he felt more than saw Ariadne quiver with suppressed mirth. He quashed a sudden, silly urge to smile.
"They've been feuding since Fisher moved to Australia in the 1800s," Arthur continued. "My guess is that Fisher wants the seat and Saito wants to prevent him from claiming it -- and of course wouldn't be unappreciative of having that power himself."
"Your guess," Asher said.
"He held our fealty through Mal," Arthur said, letting cool darkness insulate him from the lacerating pain of his memories. "When Lebrun destroyed her, that tie broke."
"And no other was established?" Jean-Claude asked, his voice seeming to whisper like silk around Arthur's throat.
Arthur met Jean-Claude's eyes, his mind and heart wrapped in the stillness and silence of his own power. "No other tie was established." At least not for the definition of 'tie' he'd used in his previous statement. He owed fealty to no one.
Loyalty was an entirely different question, but Jean-Claude hadn't asked about that. Technically.
And technicalities were enough to blur a vampire's truth sense, at least when the person lying by omission or hair-splitting definition was an animator and could mirror some of the vampire's own searching power back in a subtly confusing echo. Jean-Claude relaxed minutely, and his court seemed to take a metaphorical breath and step back from the edge of violence. Except for Ms. Blake, whose frown deepened.
Arthur wondered if she'd learned to use her necromantic abilities in this fashion, or if she was simply strong enough (and prone to blunt-instrument thinking) that she'd never bothered to explore the nuances of her own power. He definitely needed to speak with her outside of this orchestrated setting, both to learn her strengths and failings and to soften her negative impression of him. He and Dom couldn't afford to have her investigate them too closely.
"I see. Naturally you wish vengeance for Mallorie's death," Jean-Claude said. "I presume Fisher will bring Lebrun as his second for the duel."
"Probably," Dom agreed, smiling with slightly more teeth than was strictly polite.
Jean-Claude's face went blank as stone and the room once again seemed tense and airless. "That would make Lebrun my guest, along with his master. If you remain in St. Louis, with or without my permission, and attack anyone to whom I have extended hospitality--"
"Fate worse than death, understood," said Dom. "You're not the only who spent time in Belle Morte's court. I know the rules."
Arthur ground his heel into Dom's foot again. "Our apologies, it's been a long week. On that note, we've delivered our information in good faith. Asher has agreed to pass our message to Belle Morte. Will you grant us safe passage in your city for two weeks and free right to ask your people for any information about Lebrun?"
"You may ask. Whether anyone answers is up to them," Jean-Claude said, still blank faced. "What degree of safe passage do you seek?"
"Not guest right," Arthur assured him. "We wouldn't abuse your hospitality that way, especially not now. We simply want a token to show we're here with your permission instead of as intruders. St. Louis is a good place to network and it's hard to keep stocked up on magical supplies on the road."
"Tell me about it. I hate out-of-town consults," said Ms. Blake, her face cracking into a brief smile. For a moment Arthur saw part of what drew men to her -- the sheer force of will with which she approached her life was quite attractive when channeled into something other than self-righteous anger. Then suspicion lowered her brows again. "I don't care what Jean-Claude says, I don't want you two poking around my city unsupervised."
"And you say you hate playing power games," the Ulfric muttered, just barely loud enough for Arthur to catch. Ms. Blake shot him a poisonous glare.
Jean-Claude reached to either side and set his hands on his triumvirate partners' wrists. "Ma petite, Richard, please, not tonight." The Ulfric yanked his hand away from the contact. Ms. Blake switched her glare from the werewolf to the vampire.
"You're welcome to tail us if that will ease your mind, Ms. Blake," Arthur offered. "I'm sure the Master of the City or the Ulfric can assign someone to play babysitter during the times you have more important business." He paused, then added, "But please, not Mr. Schuyler. Discretion doesn't seem to be part of his mental vocabulary."
"Hey!" said the werewolf in question, sitting bolt upright from his insouciant slouch. Ms. Blake, the Ulfric, and Jean-Claude all began speaking at once, talking over each other and Schuyler's continuing protests. Dom grimaced and began to eat his soup, his patience for politics evidently worn thing.
On Arthur's left, Ariadne quivered in silent mirth once again. Arthur let his foot drift sideways to make contact with her elaborate golden sandal -- a gentle, questioning tap. After a moment, her foot pressed back, then began to trail slowly up his ankle, her bare toes digging into the fabric of his sock like blunted kitten claws.
Arthur returned his attention to the dais as the cacophony settled into something vaguely resembling order. "I'm not playing into your paranoia," the Ulfric was saying, leaning forward to gesture his refusal to Ms. Blake. "Get your damn leopards to do your dirty work if you're that shaken. Or how about your little protégé, Kirkland? You've dragged him into everything else, why not stalking too?"
"Richard. This is neither the time nor the place," Jean-Claude said, and this time there was supernatural force behind the hand he placed on the Ulfric's shoulder, shoving the man back into his chair. "If ma petite wishes to investigate, that is her prerogative. Do not mistake caution for fear." Turning to Ms. Blake, he continued. "Out of respect for Richard's sensibilities, I will not assign a wolf to the day watch. For the night, however, you may have Ariadne."
Ariadne's toes clenched against Arthur's skin.
Her nails drew blood.
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End Part Eighteen
continue to part 19
back to part 17
read the final version on AO3 (Trust me, you want to read the final version. The journal version is a beta draft, with all the errors that implies.)
---------------------------------------------
Next I will try "Lemonade" or "The Courting Dance," most likely.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
explodingfrogs, your suggestion would inevitably turn into another AU just as long as Trollstuck (because I would have to explain All The Backstory, and then obviously there would be a plot involving Karkat's efforts to not get betrayed and murdered like the Sufferer while throwing out the hemospectrum and trying to change troll society to the point where he can abdicate, dammit, because he's a leader but not like that, this worship stuff is sick (even if it turns out he does maybe have some kind of vast psychic powers or something, that's just random genetic luck and it doesn't mean people should bow to him, omg why are people so stupid, grrr hiss elaborate scatological metaphor)), and I don't have the time right now, sorry. I am totally willing to sketch out the world-building, though. :-)
branchandroot:In which there is a tense meeting that notionally doubles as a dinner party (except not really, aside from the French onion soup), Jean-Claude probably wonders what the hell he was thinking by inviting Anita and Richard to the same place at the same time, and Arthur and Ariadne continue to flirt something awful. (1,600 words)
---------------------------------------------
Weregild, part 18
---------------------------------------------
Jean-Claude kept good chefs, Arthur decided as he savored the first spoonful of soup, the saltiness of the cheese and bread melding perfectly with the dark broth and the slippery warmth of the onion slices. He managed one more spoonful before the inevitable reaction to his news burst like a violent wave.
Ms. Blake's, "Who are these people and--" clashed with the Ulfric's, "Wait a minute, are you saying--" and the lesser wolf's, "Oh, fucking hell, we're all going to--"
Arthur let the noise wash over him, waiting for Jean-Claude to yank on his people's leashes. The lesser wolf -- Jason Schuyler -- quieted first, presumably glared or called into submission. Ms. Blake and the Ulfric continued to talk over each other for several more seconds, until Jean-Claude set his hands on their shoulders.
This was evidently unusual enough to distract them. Jean-Claude took full advantage of that momentary silence.
"Please, Richard, Anita, I know you are concerned. Believe me when I say I share your anger. But we will learn nothing if we do not give ourselves the space to think and Arthur and Dominick the chance to elaborate and answer our questions."
The Ulfric gave the vampire a hard look, but held his peace. Ms. Blake was evidently a harder sell. She crossed her arms and glared at Jean-Claude. "This is exactly the kind of shit I didn't have to deal with before I met you," she proclaimed.
"You have my sincerest apologies, ma petite," Jean-Claude said. "Consider this: the sooner we learn the shape of the situation, the sooner you can safely wash your hands of, as you say, this particular instance of shit." He favored Ms. Blake with a coaxing smile.
"Smarmy as ever," Dom muttered under his breath. Asher tensed, and Arthur stretched his right leg sideways to grind his heel warningly into Dom's foot.
"Fine," Ms. Blake conceded, letting her hands fall back to her sides. "Ask your questions and get this show over with."
"As you wish," Jean-Claude said, removing his hand from her shoulder with a parting caress -- which was more subtly mirrored by his left hand on the Ulfric's shirt. Arthur kept his face politely blank and kicked himself for not noticing that Jean-Claude had been touching both members of his triumvirate the entire time. Neither of them had seemed to notice either, despite their clear antagonism toward him. Interesting.
"You said last night that you knew the subject of the petition which Saito and Fisher brought to the Council," Jean-Claude said, folding his hands neatly before him on the empty tablecloth where his plate would have rested. "Tonight you say that the Council has decided that they are the only official claimants for the Earthmover's seat, and their contest must take place in my city. I had not been aware that either Fisher or Saito had an interest in joining the Council, yet you speak as if this is common knowledge. Explain."
Dom leaned forward, staring earnestly at Jean-Claude's chin. "It's not common knowledge, which is why the information is valuable. The Council wants to wrong-foot you, make you look foolish, weak, and unprepared to deal with people of influence. They're not happy about the last few years, neither the Earthmover's fate nor the implied insult you offered by turning down his seat."
"Yes, this is obvious, but why do Saito and Fisher wish to claim the seat at all?" Jean-Claude said, clearly unmoved by Dom's projected warmth.
Arthur looked up from his soup and said, "It's an extension of their dick-measuring contest."
Ms. Blake laughed, brief and almost grudging, like he'd slipped past her determined dislike for him. Beside him, he felt more than saw Ariadne quiver with suppressed mirth. He quashed a sudden, silly urge to smile.
"They've been feuding since Fisher moved to Australia in the 1800s," Arthur continued. "My guess is that Fisher wants the seat and Saito wants to prevent him from claiming it -- and of course wouldn't be unappreciative of having that power himself."
"Your guess," Asher said.
"He held our fealty through Mal," Arthur said, letting cool darkness insulate him from the lacerating pain of his memories. "When Lebrun destroyed her, that tie broke."
"And no other was established?" Jean-Claude asked, his voice seeming to whisper like silk around Arthur's throat.
Arthur met Jean-Claude's eyes, his mind and heart wrapped in the stillness and silence of his own power. "No other tie was established." At least not for the definition of 'tie' he'd used in his previous statement. He owed fealty to no one.
Loyalty was an entirely different question, but Jean-Claude hadn't asked about that. Technically.
And technicalities were enough to blur a vampire's truth sense, at least when the person lying by omission or hair-splitting definition was an animator and could mirror some of the vampire's own searching power back in a subtly confusing echo. Jean-Claude relaxed minutely, and his court seemed to take a metaphorical breath and step back from the edge of violence. Except for Ms. Blake, whose frown deepened.
Arthur wondered if she'd learned to use her necromantic abilities in this fashion, or if she was simply strong enough (and prone to blunt-instrument thinking) that she'd never bothered to explore the nuances of her own power. He definitely needed to speak with her outside of this orchestrated setting, both to learn her strengths and failings and to soften her negative impression of him. He and Dom couldn't afford to have her investigate them too closely.
"I see. Naturally you wish vengeance for Mallorie's death," Jean-Claude said. "I presume Fisher will bring Lebrun as his second for the duel."
"Probably," Dom agreed, smiling with slightly more teeth than was strictly polite.
Jean-Claude's face went blank as stone and the room once again seemed tense and airless. "That would make Lebrun my guest, along with his master. If you remain in St. Louis, with or without my permission, and attack anyone to whom I have extended hospitality--"
"Fate worse than death, understood," said Dom. "You're not the only who spent time in Belle Morte's court. I know the rules."
Arthur ground his heel into Dom's foot again. "Our apologies, it's been a long week. On that note, we've delivered our information in good faith. Asher has agreed to pass our message to Belle Morte. Will you grant us safe passage in your city for two weeks and free right to ask your people for any information about Lebrun?"
"You may ask. Whether anyone answers is up to them," Jean-Claude said, still blank faced. "What degree of safe passage do you seek?"
"Not guest right," Arthur assured him. "We wouldn't abuse your hospitality that way, especially not now. We simply want a token to show we're here with your permission instead of as intruders. St. Louis is a good place to network and it's hard to keep stocked up on magical supplies on the road."
"Tell me about it. I hate out-of-town consults," said Ms. Blake, her face cracking into a brief smile. For a moment Arthur saw part of what drew men to her -- the sheer force of will with which she approached her life was quite attractive when channeled into something other than self-righteous anger. Then suspicion lowered her brows again. "I don't care what Jean-Claude says, I don't want you two poking around my city unsupervised."
"And you say you hate playing power games," the Ulfric muttered, just barely loud enough for Arthur to catch. Ms. Blake shot him a poisonous glare.
Jean-Claude reached to either side and set his hands on his triumvirate partners' wrists. "Ma petite, Richard, please, not tonight." The Ulfric yanked his hand away from the contact. Ms. Blake switched her glare from the werewolf to the vampire.
"You're welcome to tail us if that will ease your mind, Ms. Blake," Arthur offered. "I'm sure the Master of the City or the Ulfric can assign someone to play babysitter during the times you have more important business." He paused, then added, "But please, not Mr. Schuyler. Discretion doesn't seem to be part of his mental vocabulary."
"Hey!" said the werewolf in question, sitting bolt upright from his insouciant slouch. Ms. Blake, the Ulfric, and Jean-Claude all began speaking at once, talking over each other and Schuyler's continuing protests. Dom grimaced and began to eat his soup, his patience for politics evidently worn thing.
On Arthur's left, Ariadne quivered in silent mirth once again. Arthur let his foot drift sideways to make contact with her elaborate golden sandal -- a gentle, questioning tap. After a moment, her foot pressed back, then began to trail slowly up his ankle, her bare toes digging into the fabric of his sock like blunted kitten claws.
Arthur returned his attention to the dais as the cacophony settled into something vaguely resembling order. "I'm not playing into your paranoia," the Ulfric was saying, leaning forward to gesture his refusal to Ms. Blake. "Get your damn leopards to do your dirty work if you're that shaken. Or how about your little protégé, Kirkland? You've dragged him into everything else, why not stalking too?"
"Richard. This is neither the time nor the place," Jean-Claude said, and this time there was supernatural force behind the hand he placed on the Ulfric's shoulder, shoving the man back into his chair. "If ma petite wishes to investigate, that is her prerogative. Do not mistake caution for fear." Turning to Ms. Blake, he continued. "Out of respect for Richard's sensibilities, I will not assign a wolf to the day watch. For the night, however, you may have Ariadne."
Ariadne's toes clenched against Arthur's skin.
Her nails drew blood.
---------------------------------------------
End Part Eighteen
continue to part 19
back to part 17
read the final version on AO3 (Trust me, you want to read the final version. The journal version is a beta draft, with all the errors that implies.)
---------------------------------------------
Poll #11354 Weregild, part 18
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: Just the Poll Creator, participants: 5
What did you think of this section?
I read this section.
5 (100.0%)
I liked this section.
4 (80.0%)
I would like to read more of this story.
4 (80.0%)
I would not like to read more of this story.
1 (20.0%)
Tickybox!
3 (60.0%)
Next I will try "Lemonade" or "The Courting Dance," most likely.
explodingfrogs, your suggestion would inevitably turn into another AU just as long as Trollstuck (because I would have to explain All The Backstory, and then obviously there would be a plot involving Karkat's efforts to not get betrayed and murdered like the Sufferer while throwing out the hemospectrum and trying to change troll society to the point where he can abdicate, dammit, because he's a leader but not like that, this worship stuff is sick (even if it turns out he does maybe have some kind of vast psychic powers or something, that's just random genetic luck and it doesn't mean people should bow to him, omg why are people so stupid, grrr hiss elaborate scatological metaphor)), and I don't have the time right now, sorry. I am totally willing to sketch out the world-building, though. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-05 04:28 am (UTC)I am rather fond of the chin-staring myself. :-)