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May. 25th, 2010 10:50 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Just before the storm, at the café
I nurse my sore head whilst drinking my morning coffee. Well, it is afternoon coffee, but I did not wake up until eleven, and then I had to iron my shirt, having washed this one in a sink last night and hung it by the fire to dry. And that is the least of my troubles. My sore head is not a euphemism for a hangover. I only wish it were, zut! After speaking with Wanda on Wednesday, I made my way to the Whitechapel. It took a surprisingly long time, given how small this town is, but I kept being waylaid by people, some of whom did not seem to know me at all but hoped I would know them, and others who did seem to know me but who gave me such contradictory accounts of myself that I hardly knew what to think.
I found my inn, which is rather shabby outside but pleasingly turned out inside. There seemed to be no one at the desk, and although there was a maid scrubbing the floor she had no idea who I was, which was not very promising. In the bar, however, I found an Adam Stonor, a stern-faced blond who told me quite calmly that he had forgotten almost everything about his life, but that he remembered he worked here. And that I had given him a shotgun to keep behind the bar, which he would keep on hand if there should happen to be a riot due to the day's events. I thanked him for that, and urged him to carry on with his duties. I was starting to feel rather alarmed that I was not carrying my sword, though then again it would hardly go with these clothes. It feels odd not to be wearing a wig; the last time I had a bare head was in New London, and even then I normally wore a hat outdoors.
I then decided to go to my apartment, which Adam seemed to recall was at the back, and I found I had a key in my pocket which fitted the door. I went inside, and I found an apartment that I could certainly see matched my tastes, and then the bedroom door opened and out came a young woman. A little slighter and more bookish looking than my usual taste, but certainly mignonne, and I was just inwardly congratulating myself on my good fortune for having found some pleasant company for this ordeal when she called me an intruder and insisted I leave at once. When I begged her pardon and tried to explain myself, she struck me about the brow. With a poker.
I beat a hasty retreat. It is perfectly possible she is an entirely charming lady who has simply forgotten herself, but it is also plausible that I might have brought home a woman who, in the light of day rather than the more forgiving light of a candle turned out to be quite folle. In any case, I deemed it prudent to stay away, especially since she was talking about her father. I do not want an angry, protective patriarch challenging me to a duel for stealing his mad daughter's virtue. And so I have spent the past two nights in the best guest room of my inn, which thankfully seems to be empty. I shall have to work out what to do about my squatter, but that can wait until I have the rest of my life in order.
I sigh and sip my coffee, and glance out of the window as I hear a peal of thunder.
Lightning strikes
Oh.
Oh, mon Dieu, Hermia!
I run out of the cafe through the downpour, and I am halfway to the Whitechapel before I realise I did not pay. I am sure Tulzcha will forgive me.
[OPEN TO HERMIA]
I nurse my sore head whilst drinking my morning coffee. Well, it is afternoon coffee, but I did not wake up until eleven, and then I had to iron my shirt, having washed this one in a sink last night and hung it by the fire to dry. And that is the least of my troubles. My sore head is not a euphemism for a hangover. I only wish it were, zut! After speaking with Wanda on Wednesday, I made my way to the Whitechapel. It took a surprisingly long time, given how small this town is, but I kept being waylaid by people, some of whom did not seem to know me at all but hoped I would know them, and others who did seem to know me but who gave me such contradictory accounts of myself that I hardly knew what to think.
I found my inn, which is rather shabby outside but pleasingly turned out inside. There seemed to be no one at the desk, and although there was a maid scrubbing the floor she had no idea who I was, which was not very promising. In the bar, however, I found an Adam Stonor, a stern-faced blond who told me quite calmly that he had forgotten almost everything about his life, but that he remembered he worked here. And that I had given him a shotgun to keep behind the bar, which he would keep on hand if there should happen to be a riot due to the day's events. I thanked him for that, and urged him to carry on with his duties. I was starting to feel rather alarmed that I was not carrying my sword, though then again it would hardly go with these clothes. It feels odd not to be wearing a wig; the last time I had a bare head was in New London, and even then I normally wore a hat outdoors.
I then decided to go to my apartment, which Adam seemed to recall was at the back, and I found I had a key in my pocket which fitted the door. I went inside, and I found an apartment that I could certainly see matched my tastes, and then the bedroom door opened and out came a young woman. A little slighter and more bookish looking than my usual taste, but certainly mignonne, and I was just inwardly congratulating myself on my good fortune for having found some pleasant company for this ordeal when she called me an intruder and insisted I leave at once. When I begged her pardon and tried to explain myself, she struck me about the brow. With a poker.
I beat a hasty retreat. It is perfectly possible she is an entirely charming lady who has simply forgotten herself, but it is also plausible that I might have brought home a woman who, in the light of day rather than the more forgiving light of a candle turned out to be quite folle. In any case, I deemed it prudent to stay away, especially since she was talking about her father. I do not want an angry, protective patriarch challenging me to a duel for stealing his mad daughter's virtue. And so I have spent the past two nights in the best guest room of my inn, which thankfully seems to be empty. I shall have to work out what to do about my squatter, but that can wait until I have the rest of my life in order.
I sigh and sip my coffee, and glance out of the window as I hear a peal of thunder.
Lightning strikes
Oh.
Oh, mon Dieu, Hermia!
I run out of the cafe through the downpour, and I am halfway to the Whitechapel before I realise I did not pay. I am sure Tulzcha will forgive me.
[OPEN TO HERMIA]
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Date: 2010-05-26 12:24 am (UTC)It should be my father's house, for I am not wed, but it is not. Father is gone; Chloe is gone. I awoke with a ghastly headache. The one servant I spoke to ran away in fear when I asked after Chloe and Helena and Lysander. Dear gods, what is this place that has such incompetents in it?
Well, if the servants will not do their duty, I must do what I can to protect myself. There is a perfectly good poker by the fireplace, just heavy enough for me to swing.
As it turns out, I must use it sooner than I thought. A man pushes his way into the room, and will not listen to anything I tell him! He seems to think that this is his house rather than my father's, and that he has brought me home to it, as if I were some common woman! Ugh! Well, the poker sent him away quickly enough!
(He was rather handsome, I must confess to myself, and will to Helena as well when I can find her, but nobody else!)
Well. At least there is an interesting collection of books here, and a sweet little half-grown cat. And when the thunderstorm strikes, I find that I do not wish to go outside after all. It is a perfect day to curl up with a book and….
CRASH!
…oh dear gods.
My head aches terribly, just as it does when I've strained myself performing a spell. But I haven't done any magic for the last few days; I've…been hiding in here? Nanshe and Athena and all sources of wisdom, what has happened?
Thunder crashes once more and Nestor leaps into my arms in fear. Yes, Nestor. My cat. Our cat.
Sweet Athena, did I really hit Valmont with a poker?
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Date: 2010-05-27 12:28 pm (UTC)"Oh, thank God," I say when I see her, panting out the words and my hair streaming water down the back of my neck.
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Date: 2010-05-28 03:00 pm (UTC)Somewhere deep in my mind there's a memory of this scene playing out before, only with confusion and a poker and - ugh, my head hurts as if I were the one who had been struck!
But Valmont is here and he is himself, his own dear self, soaking and worried, and I rush towards him with a gasp. "Valmont! Dear gods, are you all right? I'm so sorry."
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Date: 2010-05-28 04:02 pm (UTC)"Valmont! Dear gods, are you all right? I'm so sorry."
I embrace her, pulling her into my arms hard, and I kiss her forehead and her mouth.
"Oh, my dear, my love, I was so worried for you," I say. "I am alright, I am quite alright." I breathe out, and then I laugh and draw back a little. "And I am getting your clothes soaked," I say. I take off my coat and put it on the back of a chair. "That is better. How are you? I am so sorry I scared you the other day."
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Date: 2010-05-28 09:46 pm (UTC)"I don't mind," I say, for I truly don't. It's Valmont. And then I think of how he would fret at having his clothes wet, and I hug him a bit closer, because it is something that is so true to him, and he is here. I unwind to let him take off his jacket, watching him fold it so precisely.
"That is better. How are you? I am so sorry I scared you the other day."
"I'm all right too. Oh, I'm so sorry, dearest! You know that I would never have struck you, darling, never, if I had been myself! And - oh, no." Another thought strikes me like the lightning, just as frightening and cold. "Is Alice all right? I - I don't think I saw her? Or didn't think that I would need to see her? I thought...oh, my head was all muddled." I rub at my forehead, but it doesn't do anything to ease the pain.
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Date: 2010-05-29 10:44 am (UTC)"I know," I say. "Of course I know. And in fact I am quite relieved to know that if someone were to break into the house you could take care of yourself quite admirably." I smile.
"Is Alice all right? I - I don't think I saw her? Or didn't think that I would need to see her? I thought...oh, my head was all muddled."
I feel the blood drain out of my face, and I dash back into the hall and up the stairs. I return a few minutes later feeling much relieved.
"She's in her room," I say, "and doesn't seem to remember much about the past few days... But she seems unhurt." I run a hand through my hair. "What on earth happened to all of us?" Then I remember something else. "And I am going to kill Iago," I add in exasperation.
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Date: 2010-05-29 05:34 pm (UTC)"Thank you," I murmur. I can feel my cheeks flushing deeper, half from embarrassment and half from the compliment. "I hope we'll never have to put it to the test."
Valmont pales when I mention Alice, and dashes off to check.
"She's in her room," I say, "and doesn't seem to remember much about the past few days... But she seems unhurt."
"Oh, thank all the gods," I gasp. "I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to her!"
"What on earth happened to all of us?" Then I remember something else. "And I am going to kill Iago,"
I shake my head. "I don't know," I admit. "It was some sort of magic, but it must have been extraordinarily powerful to affect both of us...and Alice too? Some spell on the inn?" I shake my head, eyes squeezing closed. "Sorry. I've got one of those headaches. It must have been a very powerful spell. I'll see what I can figure out later. And...why Iago? What's he done?"
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Date: 2010-05-30 12:01 am (UTC)"Come, sit down," I say, taking her hand and leading her back to the sofa. I stroke her hair back. "It wasn't just the inn," I say. "Half of town seemed to have forgotten itself. It's been a strange few days. And Iago," I say, not sure whether to be amused or angry, "not having forgotten himself, for his own amusement tried to convince me that I was married to Wanda. Blasted man."
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Date: 2010-05-30 04:38 pm (UTC)"It wasn't just the inn," I say. "Half of town seemed to have forgotten itself. It's been a strange few days.
"Half the town?" I repeat, shaking my head. "No wonder I've got a headache. Who would want to do that? If Eris were still here, I would think it would be something in her vein - chaos for its own sake. But it can't be..." I close my eyes again to shut out the light - even dimmed by the clouds it's starting to be too bright, with the pain of the magical backlash - and let my head drop down on Valmont's shoulder.
It's only for a second, though, for what he says next brings me painfully upright.
"And Iago, not having forgotten himself, for his own amusement tried to convince me that I was married to Wanda. Blasted man."
"What? What did he say? What did you do? What did Wanda do? And how on earth did Iago escape?"
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Date: 2010-05-30 11:15 pm (UTC)"I don't know, my love," I say, stroking her temple. She looks very pale. "The - man in the tower that people talk about, perhaps?" I still cannot quite say Devil. For all the things I have seen, that still seems...impossible.
Hermia jerks upright at my mention of Iago.
"What? What did he say? What did you do? What did Wanda do? And how on earth did Iago escape?"
I groan.
"It was very provoking of him. I was in the cafe, and I thought - well, I had forgotten my life after Versailles, and so I was quite confused. Iago thought it amusing to try to convince me that Wanda and I had recently got married. Luckily she found an invitation to her wedding, and I knew I was not Mr Whitman even if I had no idea why I was in Excolo. I haven't seen Iago since, but I shall certainly give him a piece of my mind," I say, because really, anything could have happened between me and Wanda, and if Hermia had been hurt because of a stupid joke... "But never mind that," I say. "You must have been afraid, my dear, being here alone." I hold her closer to me. "Have you managed alright, the last couple of days?"
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Date: 2010-06-01 01:20 am (UTC)"It would certainly be within his abilities." The feeling of Valmont's hand almost soothes away the apprehension that rises in me at thinking of the thing in the Tower. Yes. He could have done this. "Him, or one of the gods…."
In which case, what are we to do? Save for, be thankful that it ended….
"It was very provoking of him. I was in the cafe, and I thought - well, I had forgotten my life after Versailles, and so I was quite confused. Iago thought it amusing to try to convince me that Wanda and I had recently got married. Luckily she found an invitation to her wedding, and I knew I was not Mr Whitman even if I had no idea why I was in Excolo. I haven't seen Iago since, but I shall certainly give him a piece of my mind,"
"Hmph! I shall give him a piece of mine as well! Really, to play such a trick on you two!"
Valmont gathers me closer, and I settle back down - whatever has happened, he is here and safe, and neither he nor Wanda were hurt. Or Mr. Whitman, from the sound of it. I let my eyes close again and feel Valmont instead of looking at him - the warmth of his arms, the rumble of his breathing where my head rests on his chest. Safe. Warm. Back to normal.
"You must have been afraid, my dear, being here alone." I hold her closer to me. "Have you managed alright, the last couple of days?"
"I wasn't afraid, really. I was confused at first, but I kept expecting my father to come back - I thought I must have been traveling with him. Other than that, I didn't think that there was anything amiss. Once I'd…well, finished chasing off the intruder, that is," I add sheepishly. "Mostly, I read. But I'm afraid the kitchen is a terrible mess, darling. I'm sorry! There was nobody else to cook, you see. I tried to clean the burn marks off of the small saucepan - I hope I didn't ruin it!"
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Date: 2010-06-01 12:53 pm (UTC)Hermia's sternness makes me smile, and I kiss the top of her head, glad she does not seem worried that I might have - done anything. Sometimes I am still shocked at the way Hermia trusts me; it is not something to which I am used. Then again, I never deserved it before.
"I wasn't afraid, really. I was confused at first, but I kept expecting my father to come back - I thought I must have been traveling with him. Other than that, I didn't think that there was anything amiss. Once I'd…well, finished chasing off the intruder, that is. Mostly, I read. But I'm afraid the kitchen is a terrible mess, darling. I'm sorry! There was nobody else to cook, you see. I tried to clean the burn marks off of the small saucepan - I hope I didn't ruin it!"
I laugh.
"If the worst that happened was the ruination of a saucepan, then I am relieved," I say. "It was strange," I say, more reflectively, "to have gone back to that part of my life. I have changed a great deal, I think. More than I had realised, perhaps."
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Date: 2010-06-01 08:18 pm (UTC)"How did it feel?" I ask softly. "I felt…confused, mostly." I shake my head against his chest, eyes still closed as I struggle to think back through the fog. "Worried that something had happened to my father. And irritated at the servants' incompetence," I admit, sheepish once more. "But…it sounds as if you were much clearer. How did you feel?"
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Date: 2010-06-01 10:20 pm (UTC)"I felt good," I confess, a little guiltily. "A little confused about why I was here. The last thing I could recall was drunkenly playing cards, and I assumed that I had been left here as some sort of prank. But it was... easy to be as I once was," I say, "although fortunately I had little opportunity for carousing." Or wenching, although I think it best to leave that unsaid. I run a hand through my hair. "It is disturbing," I say quietly, "that so much of myself could be taken away, and I did not feel the lack. The spell took you away, and what I have with you is the best thing I have ever done, and I was ignorant of it." I shake my head. "It is a strange thing to try to come to grips with."
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Date: 2010-06-04 02:08 pm (UTC)"And I don't fault you at all. It wasn't your choice to forget, any more than it was mine. It was the person you were, who didn't feel anything when I was taken away. The person you are now does feel it, and that shows how far you have come since then. If that makes any sense?"
It does in my mind - so much so that it is almost one of those clear flashes that I get sometimes - but the headache is pounding so hard that I cannot be certain that any of my thoughts are getting out.
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Date: 2010-06-04 11:32 pm (UTC)"And I don't fault you at all. It wasn't your choice to forget, any more than it was mine. It was the person you were, who didn't feel anything when I was taken away. The person you are now does feel it, and that shows how far you have come since then. If that makes any sense?"
"You always make sense, my love," I say, and I kiss her forehead. "Now let me get you something for your head," I add, getting up. "I think we something from the apothecary..." I have a look and find an infusion of marjoram and ginger in a jar. I boil some water and pour it over the leaves and bring a cup back for Hermia. "I have no idea if this will help a magic-induced headache," I say, "but it won't hurt to try."