Without Knowledge
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- Posted: Wed, 08 Jun 2016 02:18:49 +0000
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So we just hold on fast, acknowledge the past as lessons exquisitely crafted
Painstakingly drafted to carve us as instruments that play the music of life
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- She… knew that she had not managed to cover her own introspection and disquiet, truly- That she had hesitated too long to hide her agitation. They did not believe her smile… But neither did either man look truly certain enough to call her out, when she looked at them, and she forced herself to tunnel in on the subject at hand- On what they were to do next. The next step. The way forward. Only what was right in front of her. Even if the literal answer was the man staring right back at her, watching the stubborn shifts in her expression… And answering them.
“I see little point in expanding upon anything that is not necessary… Carrier-Belleuse being a perfect example as such.”
The levity of the words might have been shallow at best, but Marguerite softened for it, her grin slipping into something warmer, that actually spoke emotion- A strange sort of gratitude. And it was only in the passing of the possibility that she realized she had truly feared being called out- That he would, in his fine intentions, force her to retreat in hostility or, be left to reveal emotions she did not even understand, before another, that she felt - or feared - in her gut Erik would not would not wish to deal with- Save only to be good to her.
And the worst of it was she had not even known she had it in her to be hurt like that… Like a muscle she did not know she had until she pulled it.
But she understood its nature enough to want to tuck it away, and breathed easier when Erik left her the room to do so, her very manner easing and further burying any hint of distress under his watchful eye, a true piqued interest blanketing her expression as she arched her brows. “Sadoul… That will do fine. Erik Sadoul. -it rolls well.” And she mouthed the words – along with other syllables that didn’t match but ‘slurred’ too much for lip reading, her expression fogging a moment before she shook herself from it again, sniffing. “And yes- Architect should do! It isn’t really even a lie, is it? It’s a part truth- The best sort of story…” And she smiled, tossing true bits of affection, from across the length of the room. Metaphorical blown kisses…
However the distance might have rung with some, odd meaning, though, Marguerite did not prove stubborn about maintaining it, rolling her full weight back to her feet as she ambled her way closer to the two men. “And I… Don’t think, there should be any trouble there.” She squinted up at Erik, as if trying to look for some ‘give away’ she herself might not see, before shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have known myself, if you hadn’t brought Ma and your promise into it from the beginning… I might have guessed soon enough, but- Do you remember Jammes at all, Monsieur Khan?” she suddenly asked, turning her head and shoulder’s Nadir’s way. And there- There it was. There was no true name for the it, and Meg certainly didn’t look at Nadir with the same undercurrent of affection only Erik seemed able to earn from her, like a soft barely heard hum of machinery, but there just wasn’t enough… Shift in her body language when she looked to him, for she hadn’t offered Erik the usual display she would- A near constant proximity or touch, always seeking some contact. A difference that threw her off-kilter- Even if she was did not consciously note it as anything more than a vague tension in her body.
“She was the pretty one- Well, one of the pretty ones. But if you saw us girls at all, you must have noticed two of them usually heading the whispers of ‘the Ghost’- One screaming and crying shame, one hissing little facts and warnings? Jammes was the hisser.” And if her grin was anything to go by, as she shot little laughing looks at Erik, she took great pride in being the unsaid screamer. “We took to that quite early- But it just suited us well. I was better at riling them up, she at keeping the ‘facts’ straight as we had set them… But truth be told, she was the one most afraid, I think. Near as much as poor old Sorelli. Because-” she explained, shifting a vaguely mischievous gaze more fully to her masked lover as she turned to the point- The one he apparently did not realize. “She believed, without any doubt, that there truly was a ghost.”
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Aldric :: Bertrand :: Charles :: Damien :: Marguerite :: Marie :: Raoul :: William
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