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 Posted: Mon Jun 11, 2007 10:27 am
Genevieve Dulac had always hated roller coasters. They made her all kinds of sick. So, when she found herself going through what felt like a wormhole-roller-coaster-of-doom she did what any normal person would do: she screamed herself hoarse, and when she came out the other end she vomited.
The fact that her goblin companion, Dragul, seemed to have enjoyed the ride immensely was only mildly irritating. Genevieve had long ago resigned herself to the idea that the little thing had strange passions. Like a fondness for eating batteries and buttons. Apparently turbulent, tumultuous, evil rides of death fell under the Good Things category as far as Dragul was concerned, because the goblin undera hugged herself and cackled fiendishly as she tended to do whenever particularly pleased. It figured.
Genevieve rolled away from the reeking puddle of graham cracker vomit and climbed to her feet shakily. There was a castle in front of her and the sky was a strange color and a creature resembling a short-legged emu was watching her from its perch on a shrubby tree's limb. She couldn't stop herself:
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."
Dragul regarded her human companion curiously at her odd pronouncement and then went to inspect Genevieve's vomit. It smelled like the honey-flavored wafers she had eaten earlier, and which Dragul had found to be disgusting, but also of the good stuff in batteries which gave them a nice fizz. Perhaps now it was good to eat? She had seen birds regurgitate food for hatchlings while watching through the window and had been fascinated. Now she could investigate.
She floated over to the mess and poked her small fingers into it contemplatively. The consistancy was not ideal, but there were certainly fouler things. Like strawberries. She brought her soiled hands to her nose and sniffed with gusto. Maybe. She was about to stick her fingers into her mouth to taste the stuff when Genevieve groaned, "No, Dragul. Don't eat that."
This was a sure sign that the puddle was a Good Thing. She said as much to Genevieve.
"Don' ee-da' Goo' Sing?"
Genevieve held her aching head. She had heard that dogs ate their own vomit sometimes, but even they drew the line at eating someone else's vomit she guessed. Sometimes her little undera was too disgusting for words.
"Don't eat that, Dragul," she repeated.
Of course the young goblin paid her no heed and stuck her entire hand into her mouth and sucked on it, making small squelching and slurping noises. Genevieve thought she might be sick again and turned her head, looking back at the castle. Well, why not?
"Come on, Dragul. Leave the barf and let's go see what we've stumbled upon," she said resignedly.
Note: this is not Jareth's castle, but Malecoda's.
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Posted: Mon Jun 11, 2007 11:12 am
Lore glanced up from the immense codex Malecoda had dropped on his desk at some point during the day while he was bustling around running errands and doing chores. Lysander had, in his customarily polite way, cleared his throat and glanced toward the window, indicating that Lore ought to look outside.
Lore wanted very much to continue what he was doing, and did not welcome the distraction. It was the first actually magical thing she had given him to do that didn't involve cleaning, the reading of this book of runes. The majority of them were basic ones which anyone could recognize, but they grew more complex and Lore found himself scribbling ones he didn't not recognize down on sheets of paper in increasingly small handwriting.
"Lore," Lysander said politely.
That he had spoken meant that something significant had occurred, for Lore had rarely heard the Undera speak since he emerged from his orb. He usually found that it was worth his while to pay attention when Lysander bothered to articulate. It was worth mentioning that Lysander never stumbled over his words, but he never said two words when one would do, and the words he chose were always the most appropriate to the occasion.
Lore craned his neck to look outside. At first his gaze met with clouds and sky, which was to be expected when looking out a tower window in the Southern Forests of the Underground. As he lowered his gaze, leaning out the window and holding his spectacles on his nose with two fingers, he saw what appeared to be a human being outside the castle. It could well have been an oddly-formed rock, though, for all he could tell. His room was quite high up, though not nearly so high as that in which Malecoda dwelt.
And interesting though oddly-formed rocks could be, Lore found his book of runes more arresting by far and desired to return to his reading.
"Why is this important?" he asked Lysander.
"Undera," Lysander said softly but distinctly.
"Are you sure?"
Lysander nodded and looked mildly offended that his judgment had been questioned. Lore sighed. Of course he was sure. Lysander wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't absolutely certain.
Then Lore sighed again as he realized that, sooner or later, Malecoda was going to call on him to answer the door, though she had servants to do that. He might as well greet the person and their Undera now, that he might return to his studies the more quickly.
He stood up and marked his place with the plumed part of his owl-feather quill. The process caused most of the bones in his spine and both of his knees to pop loudly. Lysander winced very slightly and retained his pained expression as Lore proceeded to pop the bones in his neck and knuckles.
"Sorry, chap. I know you don't like it," Lore apologized. "Want to be carried?"
Sometimes Lysander liked being carried about, but much of the time he preferred to move under his own power. In this case it proved to be the latter as Lysander shook his head side to side, No.
That settled, Lore and Lysander set out, climbing up the stairs to the ground level and then opening the postern gate and stepping outside into the forest.
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Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2007 6:53 am
Genevieve looked around upon hearing a door slam shut.
The first thing her gaze lit on was a lot of trees. There were more trees in a fifteen foot radius than she had ever seen in one place in her life at home. And they were enormous. Genevieve wondered if it was possible to feel claustrophobic in a forest in full daylight and decided that it most certainly was possible, because that was exactly how she felt: claustrophobic in a forest in full daylight.
The second thing she saw was Dragul floating quickly after the short-legged emu, which looked about ready to turn and snap the little thing with its beak. That needed to be dealt with first, she supposed, before she did any more searching for the sound. If Dragul got herself eaten, that would leave Genevieve completely alone, and she did not welcome that prospect at all.
"Dragul, no. That's a Bad Thing."
"Ba' Sing? Uh-kee." Dragul nodded and returned to Genevieve's side.
Genevieve liked the way the goblin said "okay." It was very like Dragul to pronounce a term which meant all's good as if she was a describing an exploded rat: "uh-kee." Well, the way a normal person would describe an exploded rat. Dragul would probably be fascinated and try to eat it, or roll in it.
Free to continue her perusal, Genevieve finally noticed the door to the side of the castle. At some point in her schooling, around seventh grade she guessed, she had been forced to memorize all the names of all the parts of a castle and she knew there was a name for such a door, but all she could remember was a drawbridge and flying buttresses. And she only remembered flying buttresses because Andrew had made marionettes of some very fat nuns and had them swoop all over the classroom and called them Flying Buttresses for a class project. He had gotten an A for being creative.
Standing in the door was a young man who looked about her age, maybe a little older. He wore odd clothing, kind of a cross between Victorian aristocracy and Renaissance peasantry, and wire-rimmed glasses which were perched rather precariously on the tip of his nose as he looked over them at her and Dragul.
Dragul looked around very suddenly and began tugging on Genevieve's jeans.
"Udera! 'Nudda udera!" she growled. Genevieve didn't think it was an agressive growl, but she wasn't quite sure. She also had no idea what an udera was. "Go see?"
Genevieve nodded and Dragul zoomed off toward the postern gate. Hah! Genevieve remembered the term. Genevieve followed at a more sedate pace until she was about twenty feet from the young man and the door. With her gaze on Dragul, she was able to follow her goblin's movements and realize what Dragul had been saying.
"Undera," she said aloud. "Oh."
She watched Dragul for several moments as the goblin-creature sallied up to a far more normal-looking undera with curled horns on his head and blond hair. The other undera looked far more sober and stern than Dragul could ever have been, even with supreme effort, rather like Merethist had been as an orb, she recalled. Genevieve wondered if it was more common for these things to be boisterous or reserved, or if, like human beings, it varied on an individual basis.
Then she recalled the young man, who still stood patiently waiting for her to do something, it seemed. She studied him briefly: long hair, tall, and relatively sensible looking, if one discounted the clothing. He wasn't bad-looking, really, but he seemed distracted, which was never an attractive quality in anyone.
"Sorry. My name's Genevieve Dulac. Can you tell me where I am? I'm not from around here."
She pronounced her name "Zhawn-vee-ehv," as that's how it was meant to be pronounced and she wanted this young man to get it right on the first try and not to call her "Jen-ih-veev." She hated the name "Jen-ih-veev." Particularly when someone applied it to her.
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Posted: Wed Jun 13, 2007 9:16 am
Lore watched with concealed amazement as another Undera raced from the trees surrounding Malecoda's castle and made overtures to Lysander. Predictably, Lysander remained stoic and refused to be drawn into whatever game the goblin-like Undera wanted to start. Lore almost encouraged Lysander to play with the other Undera, but then it occurred to him that the girl who came with the Undera was speaking to him.
He stared at her for several moments while he wracked his brain, trying to determine what she had said and if she had asked him anything. He could recall her tone of voice. Self-deprecating going into confidence in stating a sure thing, followed by a raised tonal for query and then slight embarrassment, as though stating the obvious. What were the damn words?
He stared for another few moments before they came back to him slowly and out of order.
"No, I suppose you aren't from around here." His eyes swept over her to confirm his supposition. "At a guess, you're from Terra Prime, judging by your clothing."
He waited another beat and recalled that she had introduced herself as Genevieve Dulac. This was more difficult when his mind was not set for socializing. He had expected to be memorising things on paper, not meeting new people today.
"Genevieve Dulac. Are you French?"
Ah, finally. The question.
"You're Underground," he answered, gesticulating to indicate their surroundings.
He wouldn't blame her if she were skeptical about being in the Underground. The Underground resembled Above in many ways, but for a darkness about the sky that never quite left, even when the sun was at its zenith. He had become used to this and took it for read that he was under some ground, but he could understand how another, not so conditioned, would have a difficult time believing it.
"More specifically, you're in the Southern Forest, behind the castle of Malecoda the Sorceress. Sor Malecoda, by the way, is not expecting you. She doesn't like surprises." He said the last about Malecoda while rubbing the place where his glasses usually rested, a sign that his mind was elsewhere once more.
He put his glasses back on and looked directly at Genevieve. "Would you like to come inside?"
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Posted: Thu Jun 14, 2007 10:44 am
"Under where?" Genevieve demanded, ignoring everything else he had said. "Under?"
She was having a difficult time wrapping her mind around the idea that she was under anything. There was a sky and a sun, for goodness' sake. And how would this person know anything anyway. He probably wouldn't notice if he was buried, he seemed so vague. He probably had his name tattooed on the inside of his wrist, or something, so that he could remember it.
It was only after several moments of horror that even a little bit more of what he had said sunk in. She could ignore the underground bit for now. But, was she French? What a ridiculous question. No one in her family had been French for at least five generations. Why would he even ask that, she wondered.
The rest made some sense. In a southern forest and behind a castle. She couldn't dispute the castle or the forest, and she supposed they could be in the south of wherever they were. As for sorceresses, she supposed stranger things could happen. After all, someone who called himself the Goblin King had given her Dragul, and that was hardly a normal happenstance.
Dragul, by the way, was extraordinarily disappointed by the other undera's reluctance to converse, and blew a wet raspberry which made it quite clear how unhappy she was. If that wasn't bad enough, she accompanied the sound with a gesture she hadn't picked up from Genevieve, but which Genevieve had seen a number of times from the diner's drunk customers. Horrified, Genevieve blushed deeply.
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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 6:37 am
Lore watched the crimson spread across Genevieve's face but wisely decided not to comment on that. He understood quite well what the young goblin meant, though he doubted that Lysander did. It was not the sort of behavior anyone in Malecoda's castle exhibited. Ever. Herself simply wouldn't stand for it. He could not help, however, that an amuse smile touched his lips. After all, who wouldn't be amused by the little goblin Undera?
"Underground," he repeated calmly. "Contrary to appearances. Please come inside."
He did not wait for her to agree or not, instead he stepped forward and gently led her inside with one hand at the small of her back and the other indicating the direction she ought to go once inside. He hoped to the powers that she wouldn't decide to react unreasonably. He was, after all, only trying to be polite.
After he made certain that both Undera were inside he pulled the door shut behind them. Inside he lit several of the wall sconces magically - a child's trick - and turned back to Genevieve. She looked unsettled, which was hardly surprising. There is no comfortable way for someone to discover that there were other worlds if they were not raised to it, as those on Terra Prime rarely are, and there is no comfortable way to come to terms with the idea that one is, indeed, in another world unless it's a common practice. To Lore, it was a common practice, but he guessed it was not for Genevieve.
"Can I get you something to drink? Warm wine? Cold water? Something else?"
As he asked her this he looked around for one of the independent shadows which indicated the presence of one of Malecoda's invisible servitors. She preferred that they be invisible and silent, and so they were, but they still cast shadows so that they weren't totally imperceptible. There were usually one or two following him around, should he decide that he couldn't fetch a book or whatever for himself. He had yet to do so, as his legs worked.
"Wine, watered and spiced," he said to the hovering shadow. Then he amended his order, "Two glasses, I think, mine undiluted."
He would probably need a glass himself, and he would certainly appreciate the alcohol. It might take the sting out of the blistering diatribe he was certain Malecoda would deliver for allowing Genevieve into the castle. She really didn't like surprise visitors, or surprise anythings, for that matter.
"This is probably confusing for you, isn't it?" he said sympathetically. "And you get stuck with a bungler like me to explain it to you. I am sorry."
He glanced down at Lysander, who was looking disapprovingly at the other Undera. Clearly he was not delighted to make the other's acquaintance, despite the initial enthusiasm he had displayed in the tower earlier. Or, perhaps he was no longer delighted to make the other's acquaintance, something which Lore had yet to do. He had also neglected to introuce himself, he recalled.
"My name's Lore, by the way. I'm Sor Malecoda's apprentice. My Undera's name is Lysander. What about yours?"
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 6:09 am
Genevieve was a little startled to find herself inside the castle. Actually, she was very surprised to find herself inside the castle. The whole thing had gone more quickly than she would have imagined.
"Don't worry about it," Genevieve said in response to Lore's apology, thinking that he really ought to be apologizing for not letting her make her own decisions.
It was mildly irritating that this person, Lore, had ordered something for her to drink after asking what she wanted and then not waiting for her answer. It was more irritating that he had requested alcohol. She had very little experience, personally, drinking alcohol and she wasn't sure if it was the best idea under the circumstances, even if it was watered down. She opened her mouth to say as much to Lore, but then decided against it. What was the worst that could happen?
Actually, a lot of bad things could happen, she knew. She could get drunk, or be raped, or any number of other bad things. And yet, because Lore had an undera she was inclined to believe that he would not purposefully get her plastered or rape her. And his undera seemed to be much better behaved than Dragul, which couldn't all be innate.
"Oh, and my - undera, did you call it? - is named Dragul."
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 7:42 am
Dragul. That was certainly a fitting name. It conjured exactly the sort of images one associates with goblins and their ilk. Lore had no personal animosity toward the goblin Undera, but he could see that Lysander's tolerance was wearing thin.
"Lysander," he said softly.
The seelie fae Undera took the hint and float-leaped from the ground to the crook of Lore's arm. From his higher vantage point, the young creature seemed much more at ease, separated by at least four feet vertically from the goblin below.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Lore said diplomatically, trying not to be amused by Lysander's very proper expression which made it abundantly clear that the Undera disagreed. "Have you had Dragul long?"
He glanced around, looking for the floating wine glasses which would herald the invisible servant's return. It would be a relief to have something to do with his hands besides hold his Undera. Of course, a wine glass probably would not improve matters, as he knew from experience that his hands dwarfed the things and did nothing to make him look any less awkward.
"Oh, and how rude you must think me," he said, recalling the seats and table the next room over. "Please, come with me hand have a seat."
Without looking to see if she followed - why wouldn't she? - he walked into the next room and waited for her to seat herself before he sat down himself.
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Posted: Wed Jun 20, 2007 6:48 am
Genevieve followed and sat down, thinking to herself, Yes, actually, I do think you rude, but not for the reasons you think.
Dragul seemed to agree with her on that point, though they had spoken nothing aloud. It had only been a look exchanged between the two of mild irritation. Genevieve resented being treated as though she couldn't think for herself and she really resented having decisions made for her and being forced into things. Like taking a glass of wine (not that it had shown up yet) or sitting down, or even coming into the damn castle to begin with.
Dragul's complaint lay more with the behavior of Lore's undera, Lysander. While Genevieve did feel that Lysander was being a bit too standoffish for politeness, she privately agreed with his sentiments. If she could understand Dragul as clearly as Lysander probably could, being a similar sort of creature, she, too, might wish to seek haven from the little goblin. Though, personally, Genevieve was quite fond of Dragul, even if she had the manners of a pig.
"Actually, I haven't. I've only had her for a few months. It was fall when I was given her." There was no reason Geneveive had to be rude, even if everyone else seemed to feel it was all right. "And your Lysander?"
Briefly she found herself wondering why he would name his creature after one of Shakespeare's less interesting characters. Admittedly, Lysander was the fair and good one in A Midsummer Night's Dream, as opposed to Demetrius or Duke Theseus or the players, but she had never really cared for him. She thought he was like Hermia: vain, stupid, and really rather useless. She, herself, had always felt more like Helena.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 7:23 am
Lore set Lysander down on the arm of his chair, where the somewhat fastidious Undera proceeded to pick specks of dust and lint from the velveteen surface with his small fingers. Lore watched him perform this task for several moments before responding to the question Genevieve had put to him.
"I see," he answered. "I received Lysander's orb a little before Yule. I suppose it's called Christmas on Terra Prime, actually." This last remark was not made to Geneveive at all, but rather to himself.
He looked carefully at Genevieve's Dragul, who seemed, to all appearances, to be sulking. At least she was sulking quietly. He didn't want to attract Malecoda's attention unless it became absolutely necessary. The sorceress had her reasons for being moody, and being acquainted with these Lore was mostly prepared to deal with her, but he would not inflict her moods on an unsuspecting guest.
And where was that wine? Usually the Invisibles were quite prompt when it came to fetching things. The only time they were not was when they were delayed by...
"Malecoda," he moaned softly. She had detained them. Which meant that she knew about Genevieve. Which meant that she would be making an appearance soon.
Speaking her name had likely been a mistake, for it was one of the surest ways to summon her within the castle. With grim expectation he looked toward the door which lead to the main body of Malecoda's castle and saw, to his relief, that she had not appeared instantaneously. That was a small blessing.
"Tell me about your home world, please? Or would you rather I told you about the Underground?"
He hoped she would opt to tell him about her home. He was genuinely curious, and he suspected that when Malecoda arrived she would want to explain the Underground in her own manner, without any of the misconceptions Lore might have. She was, after all, one of its creatures, and she was certainly in a better position than most to know about its workings, being a sorceress trained by Jareth.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 9:12 am
Genevieve listened politely as Lore told her about his acquisition of Lysander. Having spent the last several minutes observing him, she guessed that he was extremely self-assured and very well-read. He was obviously a scholar. He'd said as much. Actually, he'd said he was a sorceress's apprentice, but it amounted to the same thing, she guessed, recalling that in her AP Euro class many people were considered sorcerers and alchemists simply for being interested in physics and chemistry.
His occasional lapses into self-deprecation and silence seemed, however, to belie her appraisal. Since she had nothing else to do, really, she figured she might as well continue studying the young magician, and she might as well tell him about her home. But it seemed a dull way to spend an afternoon, really, and she had no idea how much or how little he knew about the subject. He already seemed to know where she came from, if Terra Prime meant Earth.
She decided to ignore, for the moment, his softly uttered moan, which had sounded a great deal like mea culpa. She had no idea why he would say he was guilty or that something was his fault, and so she was forced to assume that she had misheard him. Thus, her decision to ignore that altogether.
"Actually, I'd rather you told me about the Underground. You'll have to go slowly, though: I know nothing about it. I can hardly believe we're actually underground. Besides, wouldn't your unfriendly sorceress prefer to have less to explain to me, when and if she arrives?"
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Posted: Fri Jun 22, 2007 11:39 am
Of course she would rather he told her about the Underground. Naturally. However, she did raise a valid point: Malecoda would probably prefer to have less to explain when she arrived, though it was hardly a matter of If. She would arrive, because it was what she did.
"Certainly," he said with a courtier's smile. Once in a while he got the better of himself and managed to come off as polished. With any luck, this might turn out to be one of those times.
"The Underground is ancient. It's existed for as long as your world has existed. Some people say that they're diametric worlds, that they're direct opposites of each other, but that's an over-simplification. The Underground is your world, but at the beginning it chose Lady Fantasy over Reality and your world did the opposite. Which is why people say that the Underground and Terra Prime are diametric worlds. However, like I said, it's an over-simplification."
"The Underground is..." He tilted his head back, trying to recall what his father had said to him of the Underground before he had left.
He was quoting one of the ancient mages, Lore thought. He really had to reach for that particular memory. There!
"The Underground is a reflection of the dreams of all the worlds as seen through Lady Fantasy's eyes. Through the belief of all it grows, and cannot truly be destroyed for so long as there is any who dreams and prefers the bridge of Dream and the world of Fantasy to that of Reality."
He paused again before continuing, before beginning to summarize, realizing that he had told her little of any practical value.
"It is an ideal, a wish, and though the people who populate it are their own people they are also everyone's people. Those who dwell here do so because, originally, someone in another world willed it. Which does not mean that there is no such thing as free will. It merely means that what goes on is also being dreamed somewhere else, and not necessarily in any meaningful sequence. Do you understand any of this?"
If she didn't he could scarce blame her. He felt that he had lost his lucidity completely, which was somewhat embarrassing, but he was used to being silent, for whatever reason, and he was equally used to being tongue-tied.
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Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2007 6:24 am
Genevieve listened to Lore's description of the Underground with some skepticism at first, but as he tried to explain it, basically repeating himself several times but putting it in different ways, she began to grasp what he was saying. It was harder because he kept referring to fantasy and reality as if they were entities and deserving of capital letters at the beginnings of the words.
She did not feel that he had lost his lucidity. It seemed to her that here was a person who truly loved the place he was and because he loved the place so completely he could not think how anyone else could not know and love it as he did, and so was somewhat at a loss for how to explain it to a layperson.
"I understand some of it. I think it's going to take a while to sink in, though. Have you lived here all your life?"
She was deliberately ignoring the question he had put to her before he began to describe the Underground to her. She didn't want to tell him about her life or her world. Neither of them were particularly appealing to her as of late.
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Posted: Tue Jun 26, 2007 7:33 am
Lore had not expected his poor explanation to make any sense to her at all. Certainly, when he thought about it, it seemed disjointed and abstract, and entirely too philosophical. Many, he had found, did not feel philosophy was an acceptable means by which to explain things. To these people, he refrained from pointing out that religion, which many, many people use to explain things, was nothing more than a philosophy. But than, Lore had always been rather atheistic. It came from seeing miracles performed on a daily basis by family members doing magic.
He glanced back at Genevieve, who looked to be one of those sensible people among which Lore had counted himself before he came to Malecoda's castle and found that he was a much of an idealist as anyone else, if not more. He had also found that the skills one acquired at court, such as dissemblement and pandering were not as useless as he had once supposed. Indeed, in his former life, with his family, he had accused his father of both, and it had not been kindly meant.
Now, he knew, he was often guilty of both. He was good at lying and distracting and circular reasoning. He could flatter and cajole. He had become, under Malecoda's tutelage, the very thing he had felt so much disdain for at home. And he didn't mind, because he was what Malecoda needed him to be, and he could live with all the rest.
But Malecoda was not, at the moment, the person on whom his thoughts focused. Now his thoughts were on Genevieve, a stranger to the Underground and an owner of one of the Goblin King's orb-creatures.
"I have not. I live in one of the myriads of alternate worlds which spring from either your world or the Underground." At once, and without thinking about it, he continued to explain: "Your world was the first, and it is the basis for the Underground, but because your world does not accept and embrace magic and never truly has, and the Underground is founded on the premise that magic is omnipresent, those worlds, like mine, which have magic as a perfectly reasonable thing, must stem from the Underground, some believe. I don't actually agree with their reasoning, because the Underground is constantly being altered by other worlds, and there is no other world like it, but it is the currently accepted theory."
He liked magical theory. It was one of his passions. But, like most of his passions, it was a subdued passion, for he rarely allowed himself to be passionate, truly passionate, about anything. It was, he had found, unwise. That which one feels strongly about is that which can disappoint the most and hurt the longest. That was probably why he had so few close friends at home, and why most of them were animals which had been enchanted and given the power of speech, but only limited comprehension.
"But, no. I have only lived her for a short time. Less than a year. As I said, I'm Sor Malecoda's apprentice, and to be apprenticed to her, I have to be where she is. She's here."
He looked past Genevieve toward the door, purely by chance.
"Oh. She's here."
And she was, wearing one of her usual black costumes which made her look like something spun from dream fiber, her mis-matched eyes shadowed by her heavy lashes. The witch's lock of white, which she usually concealed by magical or cosmetic means, was visible and gave her a distinctly otherworldly appearance, even for the Underground.
"I'm sorry, Lore. I distracted the servant who was to bring you your drinks. But here they are."
She did have two glasses of maroon wine, one in each hand. Lore doubted that either of them had been watered as he'd requested and decided to let it go. Knowing Malecoda, the servant had not made it much past the door before she distracted it and decided to do this. Malecoda played her games and Lore rarely understood them, though he was often part of them.
"Thank you, Sor."
He stood up and crossed the room to take them from her hands. As he walked, keeping one glass for himself and handing the other to Genevieve, he marveled at the ease of bearing with which he carried himself. He was rarely so lucky, to be so graceful.
"Sor, allow me to present Genevieve Dulac, of Terra Prime, and her Undera, Dragul."
Malecoda seemed to see their guest for the first time, though Lore knew that could not be the case. She gave the otherworlder a sweeping glance and replied, "It's always a pleasure to meet someone from home."
Lore stopped himself just before he adjusted his glasses, as he was wont to do when he was nervous or uncomfortable.
"Genevieve, allow you to introduce my mistress, the Sorceress Malecoda."
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Posted: Wed Jun 27, 2007 7:28 am
Genevieve nodded politely as Lore spoke, but once he started talking about dichotomies and splitting worlds and all that he lost her completely. She tried in earnest to follow him, but it had ceased to make sense almost immediately. She continued to nod politely because she could see that this was something he enjoyed and it did her no harm to try to listen. Something might lodge in her brain at least and help her understand better at a later date.
Genevieve followed Lore's distressed stare as he noticed his mistress's presence. She wasn't sure what she had expected from Malecoda, whose name meant "bad end," but it wasn't what she saw. She had not expected a petite young woman who looked about her own age, though like she had lived centuries at the same time and who could have been a model easily, despite her diminutive stature.
She took the wine from Lore and considered taking a sip before she spoke to the beautiful woman who had greeted her as someone from home, whatever that meant, but she thought it might be poor manners and Malecoda gave the impression of being someone to whom manners were important.
"Genevieve, allow you to introduce my mistress, the Sorceress Malecoda."
That was her cue. She was supposed to respond, to say something polite and friendly. Right now. Any time now.
Nothing would come out. Genevieve did not quite gape like a fish out of water, but neither could she make herself speak by any means until Dragul floated over and put her short arms around her ankle and whispered loudly enough to be heard, "Scary magic lady."
Then Genevieve was able to collect herself and formulate the required response.
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am. What do you mean, someone from home?"
She wasn't sure of the addressing of a sorcerer or sorceress, and was reluctant to use the Sor that she had heard Lore use earlier. She did guess, however, that she did no wrong in asking about Malecoda's statement. Clearly the sorceress wouldn't have mentioned it if she didn't want Genevieve to ask about it.
Genevieve completely failed to notice that Lore looked as uncomfortable as she.
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