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 Posted: Mon Jun 12, 2017 7:13 pm
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● A Prayer For Morning ● Morning nipped like a pinch of chilled claws: at bared skin, thin sheets, and window glass. It creeped in the form of frost along the outer edges of the window pane to Jacline’s room, shrouding the view outside with a splintery white frame like some elegant spider web. Not that there was much to see beyond it, with the day yet dark and the first wisps of light not yet visible within the confines of the city proper. No one walked the streets yet.
Jacline’s first conscious action was a shudder. After it, one exhale was spent in bed, nested under her crimped sheets, her body resting still atop her wooden cot, fingers pinched to cool cloth and eyes shut. But she could not afford to linger. So, she pushed upright. Her fingers reached in the darkness. With an assurance borne of years in the same routine she found the small candlestick and lighting stick beside her bed, raised herself to a sit, and lit it to cast a dim flickering glow about her small second story room. Pale legs dropped over the side of the mattress. Bare feet pressed to chilly floorboards. The cot creaked as she rose. Her nightgown fell loose, long, and plain over knobby knees and down to her ankles, and she bent over the mattress frame. After standing she folded back her sheets, made her bed, and fetched her brush. In fifty counted strokes she tidied her hair, pulled it strictly back, and lashed the straight lavender strands into a practical, if simple and unflattering, braid.
After, she knelt at her bedside to pray, the wood of her floor making only a brief and dull groan under the weight of her knees. She shut her eyes and folded her hands.
“Lurin, as the morning greets me, I set you always before me, as you are my guiding hand through the day to come, may my path not be shaken. I am thankful for the ground you put beneath my feet, the air you give to fill my lungs, and the light you have created to brighten my days and those of all your faithful children, in your name I pray. Be the morning ever praised, Lurin guide me.”
Jacline raised two fingers, tracing them in a quick pattern of the diamond of Dafiel and Lurin before her chest, dipped her head, and rose.
Dressing took little time, and after folding away her nightgown and setting it in the small wooden cupboard at the foot of her bed, she slipped into her shoes and out the door. If she was quick enough at making breakfast, tending to the morning shop sweep, and dish cleaning, she might yet have time to spend her spare minutes reading in the front room before customers began to arrive. As a sort of early solstice gift, her caretaker, Master Theodall Tallart, had given her a new book.
Not a new, new book. The pages were yellowed and bent, the spine well loved, and the title faded across the front. It was new to her, though, which was something of a rarity when working at a bookstore, and it had come from out of the city limits in a shipment from Ilidan. She had never been outside of Pajore herself and was uninterested in risking it, but the import was a welcome one. A single, precious addition to her limited collection of personal belongings. More than enough incentive to work for, though she felt a pinch of guilt that she needed any incentive at all besides the gods’ will to work hard. She shouldn’t, after all. They ought to be enough to inspire every day and all the work it entailed, from start to finish.
Jacline paused in the dark hall a moment before making it down the stairs, her pulse quickening as debate held her hostage a moment. Would Theodall see her and realize the selfish thoughts the book gave her? That shouldn’t matter either. The gods would know regardless, for they knew everything.
Her teeth dug a guilty gouge into her lower lip until, consumed by the impulse, her fingers jerked into her dress pocket, snapping out the tiny notebook that she carried with her for just this purpose. Pushing it to the wall, she pulled out and unwrapped the small segment of pointed writing charcoal that went with it, and scribbled down her sins, making written note to add a plea for forgiveness for her laziness and selfishness into her mid-day prayer. She scanned the text of her handwriting. Neat. In line. Everything spelled properly, she hoped. Breathing out, she tucked the pad back, wrapped up the charcoal, and slipped it back where it had been.
Immediately, she felt better.
She would do better in the future. Or, by the gods, she would try. It simply wouldn’t do to be making such simple mistakes so early in the morning. Affirming this thought in her mind that she might not forget it, Jacline inhaled a cool breath, and darted forward, scurrying down the steps to the first floor and small back kitchen as quickly as she could without running.
Running was improper, after all, and not something that young ladies did. Especially not selfish and undeserving ones trying to earn back their way back into the gods’ good graces.Word Count: 897 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Tue Jun 13, 2017 6:38 pm
✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚ Grave Expectations
Jacline / Many
Jacline attends a public gathering of Yaeli before the High Priest and Priestess to address an issue before the people. Post Count: 7 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Mon Jul 17, 2017 6:29 am
✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚ By Its Cover
Jacline / Xelannis
Jacline tends to Theodall's bookshop alone for the first time and meets a young man of special character. Post Count: 1 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Thu Jul 20, 2017 4:38 pm
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● The Longest Night ● Sometimes when the fire crackled just so, Jacline would imagine it to be a great beast, dark bellied but bright eyed with a thousand red tongues lapping at the brick of the fireplace that held it bound. She imagined, too, that this was what the dark world’s hell must be like, but stripped of light. Black, searing fire that ate without brightness and burned without end. Remorseless. Ever hungry. This was how Master Tallart made out to be, at least, and so it had been emphasized many a time through the day’s sermons and prayers.
The winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year, was a day of fasting on the calendar of the Church of Dafiel. For Jacline, that meant that the prior evening’s meal had been large. After it and the cleaning that followed, she had bathed thoroughly, scrubbing all taint from her body and redressing in simple robes to sleep for a short few hours before waking to attend a midnight mass with her caretaker. At it, she had knelt with the other attendees, some fellow citizens, and others permanent residents of the Sanctum. Inside a circle of candles lit in honor of their gods’ light, they prayed for strength, and for Lurin’s gradual shifting return to power after the long night.
Among many, the winter solstice was believed to be the most powerful night of the year for sin, misfortune and dark energy. So it was that, during the day, Jacline had needed to watch herself even more rigidly than always, for anything could be temptation. She had bathed cold, dressed simply, and did exactly as told. She usually did not chance it to speak, and it was not until now, in the late evening of the fast, that she was permitted to read. By the firelight, she did so, settled onto a simple pillow with her feet tucked beneath her.
The words were a welcome distraction from the hunger she pretended not to harbor in her gut. They made it easier to forget. As Lurin was at his weakest but bound only to grow stronger by the day afterward, she too could endure and appreciate the protection Dafiel’s blessing gave in the long hours waiting for dawn. Still, when a hand touched her hair, she flinched, twitching away in surprise as her fingers crimped to the page. Master Tallart’s eyebrows rose. Jacline’s shoulders lowered, and when his fingers brushed again, she held still.
“Come, did you think me a demon, girl?”
She shook her head.
“Let me see.” He reached, and she passed the book into his outstretched hand, waited as he glanced over it, and took it back again when he finished. He settled into one of the tall, cushioned seats before the fire. Those were exclusively for adults. “Read some to me.”
An embarrassed flush filled her cheeks.
It was not unusual that he would ask, but it was generally with simpler texts of the sort she studied in her lessons. All common words that she knew now, for the greater part. This, though, was a book of Lurin’s prayers. An adult book of the sort that might even be read by priests and priestesses during a sermon and scattered with many words she struggled with still.
It wouldn’t do to argue, however. It was her own pride that had set her to reading a complex text, and if she had the pride to try, it was only appropriate that he be fit to test her on it. Jacline tucked the book into her lap, stared at the page a moment to find a line, and took a deep breath to begin.
“To our Lord and Lady in Exalt, our Gods, belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against Them. Neither have we obeyed the voice of our Gods, to walk in Their laws which They set before us, and so all we, like sheep, have gone astray. We have turned every one to his own way, and our Lord and Lady hath laid upon Themselves the…” Jacline stalled. A small lump knotted in her throat as she studied the next word. “In…iq…u…”
“Iniquity.”
“…iniquity…” Jacline’s face burned, “…of us all. Behold and-”
“Stop.”
Jacline held her breath. The fire crackled. Her pulse felt dry in her throat. “I’m sor-”
“How are your studies progressing? You are working with…Sister Larreth now, aren’t you? I feel I have been neglecting stepping in to oversee, and there the fault lies with me. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind…”
Jacline shook her head. “I’m not behind.” She instantly regretted the words, guilt pinching in her chest at the arch of his eyebrows. “That is, I-” She cast her gaze downward. “I am where Sister Larreth says I should be. Sometimes she even says-”
“Look at me when you speak, girl. You are not conversing with the hearth or church mice.” When she obeyed, he settled back an inch in his chair. “Better. Now. What does Sister Larreth say?”
“She says that I am doing well…” Jacline’s cheeks felt as though they were absorbing the fire’s heat into them and storing it. “She says that I am ahead of where she would expect me to be at in our lesson materials.”
In the silence that followed, Jacline could only guess at how much trouble she might be in. Had she boasted? Was it saying too much? Sister Larreth had said such things, but perhaps she was wrong, or perhaps Master Tallart expected better and it was gloating to think otherwise. Then he spoke.
“Well. I don’t suppose I can ask for better than that, can I? Not with the materials you have been given, in any case. It sounds, however…as though, you are not being challenged enough. If what you have is easy, you cannot be expected to gain much from it, can you?”
Jacline considered speaking. She decided against it, giving a tiny shake of the head instead. It wasn’t that the material she had was easy, she thought, just that she had been working as best as she could through it. But, if Father Tallart thought it was better that she be challenged, she could not argue.
“Good. I will see to it that Sister Larreth has replacement materials within the fortnight and you can begin lessons that more befit your progress. Which reminds me…”
Jacline looked up.
“I was looking for you, not to discuss your schooling, but…I will be travelling out, for a period of several days, to hold visit with a friend of mine and a church associate, to bring foods and winter cloth to villages beyond the city limits. In the harshest months it becomes the most necessary to spread our word and kindnesses to those in need…I thought that I might take you with me.”
Jacline’s eyes blew wide. For a moment she stared. “Outside Pajore?” she asked at last, voice small.
“You are old enough,” Father Tallart said. “It would be good for you, I think, to see for yourself some of what corruption does to the people. You will bring your lesson book, of course, and see to your evening readings. But in the day…you can help me with the villagers and witness what it means to mission oneself to the public.”
Jacline’s heart stuttered in her chest, pounding so that she imagined it could have been a small bird stirred up and panicked within its confines. At the same time, however, she was curious. It would be exciting, but dangerous to go out, and she had never been before. Was it possible there would even be savages about? What if their moving carriage was attacked? What if they died? It must be the most horrible way to go, she thought, to be skewered alive. Or tortured. Or defiled. The thought alone spurned a shudder in her, and she sent a prayer to Lurin that if she must die, she die of cold before ever being eaten.
It wouldn’t do to complain to Master Tallart, though. She couldn’t sound ungrateful.
“We will be leaving the day after tomorrow.” His voice plucked her from her thoughts and back to the present. “So mind yourself and have your things in order. See to it that you pack warmly, also. I’ll have you fetched for early. All well?” he asked, rising from his seat.
Jacline nodded. “Yes, sir.”
A twitch of his fingers motioned her up, and she stood, shutting her eyes as his thumb touched her cheek and then lips the crown of her hair. “Sleep soundly, girl. And may the gods be with you.”
“As be with you, sir.”
The soft creak of the floorboards and pad of his retreating footsteps along the floor signaled his retreat. Jacline opened her eyes and watched the fire and candlelight lick along the back of him, holding her ground until the shadows of the hall swallowed him entirely. Only then did she tuck her book away and prepare to begin her nightly rituals for bed.Word Count: 1,527 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Sat Aug 19, 2017 3:53 pm
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● Yellowflower and Incense ●
Class Choice
|| Healer (Scholar) || The plant had a proper name, but the locals called it “yellowflower.”
A perennial, it was, with clustered bunches of leaves which grew up from a deep and tough root. When in bloom, it sent up a tall column of flowers which, due to its angular cone shape and sweep, was sometimes referred to as “church steeples,” an alternate colloquial title for the herb. The petals of its vibrant yellow flowers were soft and downy to the touch. Far more pleasant to the finger than to the tongue, in any case, and though its remedial uses brought it high esteem in the medical community, it was useless in the kitchen thanks to its pungent and unpleasant flavor.
Jacline sat with a threaded bunch of it, her legs folded beneath her, perched on a short pillow in a small cot, a wooden table stretched before her upon which she was removing the little yellow buds and dropping them into a black, thickly glazed ceramic bowl at her side. Near but not directly next to her, a man who had been introduced to her as a friend of Master Tallart’s was speaking with a villager.
A disciple of the Sanctum he was, she knew, and though his rank was unknown, she guessed he must at least have been a cleric, if not a fully indoctrinated priest. His dark purple hair was thick but straight, and he spoke in low tones as she worked. Per Master Tallart’s invitation, they had left the bounds of Pajore, traversing a traveler’s road to one of the outskirt villages too small even to bear its own name, but in need just the same of aid.
The village’s head medicine woman, a plump madam of perhaps fifty nearing sixty summers, was off to the room’s side, her presence audible by the half-murmurs that came out of her mouth every half minute or so along with the tapping and clacking of various vials, tools, and instruments among her supply of remedial herbs. Jacline’s experience with the healing arts was limited to next to nothing other than past observance, but in her studies she had learned some very general knowledge of Yael’s native plants, and the profession had always interested her passively despite its distance from book binding and salesmanship.
She assumed with near certainty that her place would eventually be to take on after Master Tallart at his store and carry his profession forward. Or perhaps more accurately to wed whomever he thought suited to carrying on the task for him, though she tried not to think often on that, as it still had no appeal to her. She would do what she must, but privately she hoped that the moment a suitor was before her would be very distant indeed or never necessary.
In the meantime, here she was, and because Master Tallart and his friend were here on behalf of the village, so too was she set to helping, in this case as an on hand temporary errand girl for the medicine woman. She found she enjoyed it more than she thought, to listen and mentally categorize all the various medicinals and her small fingers worked quickly, but with care and precision.
Yellowflower could be used on the eyes, to ease itching and burning if prepared as a drop ointment. Flavored with honey to make it palatable it could be cooked into a tea to ease coughs or gargled to soothe a sore and inflamed throat. Externally, it could be used in a wash to treat oily skin plagued with red bump acne, and when crushed into a strong poultice mixture, it could draw out venom from harmful bites or infected sores.
This was what she had been told today, and each time her fingers brushed the petals, she thought on it, reciting the information back through her head. Though this woman was not one of her tutors and she may never meet her again, she was accustomed to having to answer to Master Tallart if she did not fully appreciate and absorb her lessons. Wasteful it was to not be an attentive student, and the gods punished waste without hesitation.
Today, they were treating a blighted villager. For the next several days, it was much the same. Some villagers were truly in need of aid, others seemed merely spooked by recent events and were sent off with a sip of calming tea or a few blessings from Mastar Tallart’s friend, Brother Penrith, as she learned.
It was on the fourth day, while coring a thorn fruit for its seeds, that the medicine woman’s scratchy voice gave her a start, appearing right behind her far closer than she’d anticipated. “You’ve worked with medicines before, have you?”
Jacline, having hopped in her chair at the first word, glanced over her shoulder dartingly, and then down with a small mute shake of the head. There was a pause where the woman may have been awaiting further comment, but when none came, she gave a small snort of a sound.
“Never?”
Jacline shook her head. “I’ve read-” Her words halted as she worked the small pick she was using to pull out seeds. “I’ve read a little. I haven’t studied or used them myself. Master Tallart thinks it’s best I have a balanced education.”
She didn’t look the woman’s way for some time, but when she did, she couldn’t read the expression fully other than perhaps ‘thoughtful.’ After a long moment, she spoke. “You have quite the knack for it. Isn’t my place to say…” Clearly she hesitated, but after another pause, persisted. “Isn’t my place to say but if I was that man I would have you seen by someone who knows their craft and their magic. You have it in those fingers, girl.”
Jacline blinked, but before she could make any cohesive comment, the woman gave a quick set of instructions for what to do next, and then was off back to her own devices. It was not until days later, after she and Master Tallart had returned home, that Theodall approached her himself.
“Jacline.”
Jacline, hands deep in the water of a small wash pot as she rinsed their dishes, looked up.
“What did you think of that woman, and the healing you did while we were out?”
She hesitated. It occurred to her to tell him what the woman had said, but just as quickly she thought not to boast. There was no telling if the woman knew anything besides, and she couldn’t have Theodall thinking she was lying to boost herself up. “I thought it interesting.”
“It is a valuable skill to have,” he said. “A…useful talent, that might carry you further than this bookshop if marketed properly, and if you took to it.”
Blinking, she glanced to him with a puzzled frown, but didn’t dare speak immediately.
“You would have to be dedicated, though. It would only take someone with real knowledge of the art to know if you had any gift for the magical aspects of healing, but if you did…it is not something everyone has.”
She ran her hand over a dish, turning her gaze there again and letting the words sink in. Did he not want her staying here at all? Did he not think she could run the bookshop? On the one hand, the thought of having to go anywhere else, or of being inadequate, made her heart restless, thudding with a suppressed fear. On the other, it didn’t necessarily sound that he was labeling her inadequate, and all other factors aside, if she were earnest with herself, she had quite enjoyed working as she had and felt a curiosity stirring in her, as though she had just tapped the surface of something and knew there was so much more to be had.
“It may be false promise and if you do not take to it I will cut it off. But…” Theodall’s hands folded in front of himself, his eyes scanning down her with thought, almost (though it did not occur to her in that moment to think it) like someone attempting to value something they intended to sell. “That woman seemed to think you had talent in you and that it would be wise to test your capacity. I have made some inquiries, and if you dedicate yourself to it…I will make arrangements to have you seen by and begin tutoring under a professional of the healing arts.”
Jacline stared.
“You will have to maintain your core studies as well of course, and even an initial healing tome is no small purchase, I would not suggest you make this decision lightly.”
Jacline flushed, and she thought in a moment that surely this was a decision to take time on, to spend a night or more on, and not to rush. “I would like that.” The words left her mouth as though spurned by some power beyond her. Or perhaps simply the fear that if she did not express her genuine interest now, the opportunity might vanish and it was worth running the risk of appearing hasty. Still, abashed at her own rashness, she dipped her head and could feel her cheeks flush darker. “I…I did enjoy it. I would like to learn. I will dedicate myself to it and manage my other studies.”
Theodall watched her then, and if he thought her hasty, he said nothing, instead leaving the room without further comment. That night, Jacline found that even after the evening’s cleaning and washing, when she lay in her bed and ought to have been exhausted, her mind tossed restlessly, running over and over again the thought of actually learning a craft of her own, to be able to work her fingers not only over the seeds and herbs she had in the outer village, but with healing magic, which was a thrilling and intimidating thought.
Two mornings later, she woke to her first tome of healing beside her bed and a slip of paper within instructing her on where and when to meet with her first tutor.Word Count: 1,688 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Sat Aug 19, 2017 3:55 pm
✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚ Skirts and Skepticism
Jacline / Tacrith
Jacline meets with a young healer. They have more differences than she could imagine. Post Count: 10 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Sun Aug 20, 2017 6:06 am
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● A Dress To Impress ● Jacline always dressed neatly. Cleanly. Plainly.
Though Theodall Tallart had raised her since infancy so as to make himself the closest thing to a father or parental figure in her life, she had always been made well aware that that was not precisely the case. He sheltered her, he provided for her, saw to it that there was food to eat and clothing to wear, and that, as she grew, she was educated heavily in scripture as well as core study subjects of history, arithmetic, and literature. And most recently, magic.
Still, all the while she had never been his daughter. She was there on his good graces, because he had seen her in need as an infant and chosen to be kind. She ought never forget his kindnesses or the gods would take care of the rest. In her earliest years she was rarely ever permitted out of the house. As she had grown, still he kept her under close and attentive watch, seeing to it that she never strayed far and still rarely went out. The narrative, though, had begun to shift when she first began to show signs of approaching womanhood.
It was impressed upon her the absolute prohibition from engaging with young men, gods forbid alone, but even in public it was of the utmost importance to her reputation and image in the eyes of the gods and the people that she maintain strict control. Over what exactly she had never been fully sure of the details on, but she understood per instruction that they were trouble of the highest sort and the more rigidly she covered and maintained herself, the better.
So it was that she was quite confused to be interrupted from her afternoon studies and instructed to head to her room and ‘dress.’ ‘Something had come up.’ The way it was said Jacline strongly suspected that this was no more a surprise to Theodall than a morning sunrise and that whatever it was that had ‘come up’ had been on the itinerary for some time with only her intentionally kept out of the loop until the last moment. But whatever the case and whatever his reasons, she obliged without comment, and found her suspicions confirmed, for there, on the bed, was a dress.
While not overly ornate, it was immediately evident that this was nothing like she was accustomed to wearing. Made of a silken, finely sewn and patterned fabric, it was soft to the touch such that she almost feared lifting it for concern there had been some mistake. Why-?
“It’s been fitted for you.”
She hopped in her startlement, hand snapping behind her and away from the dress as she whipped to face him, only to earn a single raised eyebrow from Master Tallart before he proceeded as if she hadn’t reacted.
“There should be no sizing issue. I had it shipped in from Ilidan, sewn by one of the finer seamstresses there.” He notched his head. “Try it on.”
She hesitated, watching him.
“Come, girl, I have raised you since you were the smallest girl. I want to see it. Try it on.”
Flushing hotly and trying not to frown overly much, Jacline turned back toward the bed and dress. Tentatively, her fingers fiddled with the strings of her current garment. She couldn’t have explained why exactly she felt a lingering sense of unease, other than she supposed Theodall’s own instruction that men should never see certain parts of her, but surely that did not include Theodall himself, as he had said. He had seen her since infancy. So, after drawing a breath, she made the quickest work she could of changing, and as she finished, she felt strangely alien. As though she had put on a new skin, that of some other, prettier girl, who she distinctly was not.
Theodall’s fingers brushed over a shoulder, straightening a fold of fabric here, adjusting a button and then eyeing her assessingly as he stepped back. Jacline couldn’t have said whether he looked ‘pleased’ or not, but he at least did not look displeased. Though the dress was far from revealing, modest even by most standards, she could not shake the feeling of being on display and too exposed.
“We are meeting with a friend of mine this evening,” Theodall said at length.
Jacline’s eyes, previously on the delicate threadwork decorating the woven belt of the dress, snapped upward with surprise. ‘We’ shouldn’t have been a shock, she supposed. Why else would he be dressing her more presentably? But he had never had her accompany him to anything of enough importance to merit new wardrobe before, so still the confirmation felt strange, and was certainly enough regardless to get her heart thudding in her chest. As if reading her mind, Theodall continued.
“I realize I have never had you accompany me to an event of such…character, but I think it is time we begin to change that. It will be a garden party, with a number of important faces among the city invited. An opportunity, if you will, but relaxed enough still that I think it should be a good introduction for you.”
Jacline waited, feeling with baited breath as though waiting for a pin to drop. The real reason she was to be there. And, sure enough…
“The man hosting this event has two sons. Corinthio and Alexios. Both are near to your age, though I think you will find Corin too young in spirit for your tastes and not of an age that the man is much concerned with finding him a wife yet besides. Alexios is seventeen summers as of some ten days ago…”
Jacline eyed her caretaker, getting the sense now that she understood the direction of at least this part of the one sided conversation. “I should avoid him-?”
“I want you to see to it that he notices you,” Theodall said, running in the face of her assumption. “Flatter his attention, but do not let him touch you. Introduce yourself. Smile when he talks. Find a way to laugh if he attempts to be humorous. You needn’t say much. In fact it might be preferable if you say very little, since you have not had much practice at coaching your words for such situations. If my memory serves me he is not a bright enough boy to appreciate intelligent conversation in a woman besides…”
Jacline tried not to frown or fiddle with her dress.
Theodall’s hand batted away one of her fingers from where it fiddled with the hem of a sleeve. “Do not fidge. Or frown. Come, smile.”
“I do not want to be wed-”
“You were not chosen as a daughter of the Sanctum in your youth, so I am afraid that choice is not before you unless you intend to be fully self supporting upon my death.”
A cool weight dropped in her gut.
“You are not being wed off immediately, girl,” Theodall said, just a touch gentler. “But you should be cognizant of your future just the same. I am trying to help you, do you understand that?”
Feeling his finger beneath her chin, Jacline allowed her head to be tilted up, eyes reluctantly meeting Theodall’s. After a moment, she nodded.
“Good.” He seemed to consider his words before continuing again. “It is a sinful world out there, Jacline. We are not born good, but tainted creatures all attempting to purify and right ourselves in the eyes of the gods. It is a constant struggle, and many do not put forth the effort in earnest like you and I. But, however ‘unfair’ it may seem…you will find that the gods reward those who keep the right company. I cannot map your life for you…but I can place opportunities in your path to make things easier. Do you understand?”
She hesitated again, but eventually nodded.
“Good girl. Now…” Theodall let his hand drop and gestured towards the small washroom adjoining her bed. “Make yourself presentable, and when you are finished, return to me downstairs. There will be a carriage for us in an hour, so do not dawdle.”
With that, he was gone, stepping back out of her room and shutting her door behind her. For a moment, Jacline could only stand where she was, in a dress finer than any she’d ever had on her skin, with an event before her where she was apparently to act against every instinct within her and entertain a boy she did not know or care to know.
But, such was Theodall’s wish, and she was not in any position now to deny him. So, with some reluctance, she made quick work of slipping out of the dress again to wash herself up, dry and tidy her hair, and redress in a fashion that would be suitable for the event to come. As she came down the steps toward the main floor of their building, she felt distinctly as though she were crossing a threshold more metaphorical than physical, and that she would never again be permitted to go fully back.
Word Count: 1,538 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Sun Aug 20, 2017 8:37 am
✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚ Putting Your Best Foot Forward
Jacline / Ko
Jacline attends a garden party. Post Count: 1 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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Posted: Sat Oct 28, 2017 9:56 am
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● A Lady In Waiting ● I will not be around always, you know.
What did you think of that boy, Alexios?
Here, wear this instead. I would like for you to tend shop again today.
Jacline sat in the front space of the bookshop, behind the cashier’s desk, one leg tucked beneath her, a book in her lap, and her eyes down. It was a quiet day, so she oughtn’t even have a complaining thought, but Theodall was not even away. He just wanted her to be ‘visible, for once.’ Why he had begun her life hiding her away always only to now, once she had grown very accustomed and used to and expectant of privacy, expect more social behavior, she couldn’t guess.
To further complicate things, he only seemed interested in her engaging at all with certain particular classes of individuals. Most boys were still unacceptable and dangerous and to be avoided. For a few, with the proper background and status, she was to make herself at least noticeable and interesting, if possible.
Jacline wasn’t certain she wanted anything to do with it. All an unpleasant, strange game to be engaged in at great risk. Perhaps she could learn to run the bookshop. Not that she necessarily expected Theodall to pass it to her, her being only a girl and him having so many connections already. And she didn’t exactly have the ‘zeal’ for the retail business as someone had put it. Pursing her lips, she pushed it from her thought process and refocused her attention on the text before her.
After a rocky start, she had discovered her own magic and how to tap upon it. Thus, since its discovery, she had devoted each spare moment to the study of it. As part of her tutelage, she had several books by which she was supposed to work through the beginning phases of her spellwork, and every minute the shop remained empty and quiet, she could dedicate to reading, analoging notes to the side as she went and finger tracing spell marks.
Jacline didn’t like much of anything that followed coming of age. The soreness of her very slowly developing chest — the minimalism thereof being fine with her, as she’d never seen any use or need for much there, or so she told herself — or bleeding, or ‘husbands.’
The front door’s bell tinkled, announcing entry, and when Jacline looked up, for a moment all she saw was the girl. Her age or but a few years older, from the look of things, with vibrant lavender curls which caught the morning sunlight and bounced on her bosom when she skipped in.
“Excuse me?”
Jacline only truly noticed the boy then when he spoke, though he was the subject in tow of the girl to begin with and now the person addressing her as they’d reached the counter. Jacline’s eyes were on him only a moment before returning to the girl. Then, clearing her throat, she gave her attention back to him.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“We’re…” He glanced about, brow furrowing just enough that he almost looked anxious, or put upon, “…looking for something.”
Jacline waited a moment. Patiently, she thought. But eventually, something had to be said. “I am certain I can help you find something,” she said. “But without a little more specificity I doubt it would be the something you’re looking for.”
The girl giggled.
Jacline felt heat stir in her cheeks, and when she made the mistake of looking, the girl flashed her teeth. And winked.
“Don’t mind Rurioh,” she said, and reached to hold a hand over the counter. “I’m Viksha. We were wondering if this store sells adult books. I heard from a friend that the selection was excellent.”
Because the hand had been offered, Jacline had felt obliged to reach when she did and take the girl’s hand, but that had occurred before the rest of it came, such that by the end, she was standing speechless as she was motionless, internally aghast but exteriorly blank faced as she digested the question.
“Adult…?” Jacline withdrew her hand, tucking it back in front of her and ignoring best she could the lingering prickle there of obscure warmth and sensitivity where there’d been contact beyond any rational explanation. Stifling the urge to brush her palm against her skirt, she shook her head. “Jacline. I’m…I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Jacline,” the girl, Vishka, repeated. “You know, books you don’t sell to children. They start out about a man and a woman and some strife or conflict, and then a respectable number of pages in, things get…” She leaned forward a fraction onto the counter a mischievous spark to the glow in her eyes, “…heated between them. Electric stares, secret rendezvous, passionate kisses shared in shadowy spaces, salacious engagements…”
Jacline, finding that her mouth was uncooperative, managed a mute shake of the head.
After a moment, Vishka puffed a sigh. “Well that’s disappointing. And surprising, given what I’d heard…” Jacline couldn’t explain the difficult time she had looking away from the girl’s stare. A second later, Vishka hummed, clicking her nails to the counter and then tapping it dismissively. “Perhaps I’ll come back around when your daddy is about, hm?”
“My…?” Jacline hastened to shake her head. “Master Tallart is not my-”
“Details,” the girl said with a flick of her wrist as she turned to go. “Some other time, hm?”
For some time after Vishka’s retreat with her companion, Jacline had difficulty gathering her thoughts to order. What sort of persons spoke of such things in a public setting? Were such books truly in existence? Whatever had lead this woman to think their shop would carry something of such obviously impure content? She hardly dared consider that it was actually possible they did, though there were some of the selection that he kept private from her.
Shaking her head, she frowned and settled herself back in her chair. Madness. She wouldn’t consider it, and yet, her ears were still flushed. She would have to separate herself such contacts, or at least be more aware and keep distance from people of such a shameless calibur in the future, and write about it to the gods while she had opportunity. As she pulled out her small notebook, scrawling Vishka’s name and relating the sinful nature of what was spoken of, she thought that perhaps this was her answer to Theodall’s questions regarding her future.
It might make her life ‘easier’ in some sense to court and be married into one of the more comfortable families of their city. But she couldn’t take any direction that made her feel she was veering astray from the gods’ path, and thus far, the course of a courting girl was nothing that interested her. Unless the gods gave her some sign that it was their interest that she take a husband, she would have to find the way forward on her own, with or without Theodall Tallart, depending upon how long he chose to keep her under his care as she approached womanhood.
Her studies, on this course, could be vital. But if learning to care for herself was the only recourse to being dependant upon someone who would by no guarantee respect the gods as she did, then she would rise to the task of making it happen.
The right path forward was not always the easiest, after all.
In the meantime, her task would be to ignore the curious itch within her to investigate more thoroughly among the books she’d never touched, confess that misplaced urge, and turn back to her lesson.
Word Count: 1,312 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚ Synopsis: Jacline is at a coming of age point in her life, and the shift in expectations is coming as something of a shock to her system. Where once she was a very sheltered and bottled up little girl, now the prospect of finding a stable home in her future is, while not immediately upon her, on the horizon and being suggested by her caretaker as something she should dedicate thought to. Jacline, however, is a late bloomer and took to heart the deeply religious and perhaps extra stringent morals her caretaker instilled in her since a young age, and finds herself uncomfortable with the idea of progressing into too personal of a relationship. She has been putting off thinking about her progressive maturity and what it means for her future, but in this solo Jacline tackles the concept and eventually resolves that even if it might be 'easier' to find a good husband and be comfortable that way, she just isn't comfortable with the concept of trying to interact and pretend to be okay with that for the sake of a secure future. If she has to, she will be chaste all her life and take care of herself - or, so she decides in this solo, provided the gods do not give her clearer direction in the future.
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Posted: Sat Dec 02, 2017 10:40 am
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● The Trappings Of Womanhood ● “‘Not going to,’” Theodall repeated.
Jacline sat still, her eyes downcast now, and hands in her lap.
“I am sorry if I did not make myself clear previously, girl, but-”
“I-” Her words froze in her throat as she realized she had interrupted him. She held her breath. He waited.
Then, he said, “You have begun, you might as well finish.”
A breath skirted from her lips. “I am progressing well in my studies. Both of the classical subjects and in my healing. I’ve also kept the shop for you when you’ve been out. I don’t…want to be wed to anyone. It doesn’t feel proper. I am grateful for all that you’ve done for me, and I don’t wish to be a burden any longer than I must, but…I do hope, if I keep on the path that I am, I should be able to be more help than hindrance…”
Theodall studied her for longer than she could say. Eventually, he sighed. “Sweet child…I realize it is partly my neglect that you are not educated in some of the less pleasant ways of the world, but do know that that has been a kindness so far in my efforts to protect you. I do not think you understand just how ungrateful you sound.”
Every objection flit to the forefront of Jacline’s mind, but seized in her chest before coming anywhere near to her tongue. She had already spoken out once. She mustn’t again, and she had been overly bold, he must be right. It occurred to her to apologize, her heart beating an uncertain rhythm as her eyes locked to the floor, but before she could begin, he spoke.
“Precious girl, you’re so meek. Come here…”
Her eyes flit back upward, startled. They were seated at the table in their small dining room, and having come to the close of their meal, had begun to talk. She’d known, after making her decision privately, that she would need to eventually share her intent with Theodall. She had hoped, perhaps, for a slightly more favorable reaction, but at his summons she stood from her chair and stepped over to him.
He reached, catching at her hand lightly, and Jacline could not explain her tension but for his frustration moments prior. Perhaps he had not decided her punishment yet.
“It is a rough world out there…enough so when we have our sources of support, but roughest of all on a lone woman or child…” His fingers lifted, tracing the underside of her palm to her wrist as though taking her pulse, but skimming. Then, he stood. “I do not think you want that. Nor do I believe you appreciate how much I have invested in you, and keeping you…marketable, so to speak.”
Jacline did not understand. It must have been apparent in her expression, for in another moment, he shook his head.
“Eligible,” he amended, “for a decent future. A connection with the right suitor could make up partly for the monetary and even time costs of raising you, besides. Without that, it would only be a matter of time before your reputation plummets to suspicion and rumor alone if you attempted to remain independent, and truly, Jacline, do try to be realistic with yourself…” Releasing her hand, his fingers slipped beneath her chin, tipping it up to lead her eyes to him. “Without my support, do you honestly think you could sustain yourself for long as anything more than a moderately plain whore?”
Jacline felt her stomach drop. She was looking at him, still, but she felt she couldn’t see for the building sting, and before a moment had passed his touch was gone and he had stepped around her. Her hand found the table to brace her weight.
“Be a good girl and clean up. Think about it while you do, and when you finish, come upstairs to my room. There will need to be some modifications to our arrangement together if you wish to continue sharing the comforts of my household and remain unpersuaded to be more cooperative with my prior hopes for you…”
As her caretaker’s footsteps receded and progressed up the stairs, Jacline would have struggled to describe her state. Dazed. Adrift. As though she had been shaken into some nightmare and wasn’t certain where she had made her wrong turn. She would have to apologize. And perhaps she could reconsider, at least for a time, though the thought did little to quell the shaking in her knees as she drew breath and forced herself to a proper stand. One bowl, one spoon, and the next. Each in succession. One thing at a time.
She managed to make it through the process of cleaning the kitchen all but habitually, her mind wild to be elsewhere as she pushed her energy to the task at hand. It made for a sort of numb progression, and by the time she finished, she wasn’t certain she was any more ready to face the man than she had been when she started. But she couldn’t ignore him. Lighting a hand lantern, she blew the remaining lights out in the kitchen, and drew a breath before approaching the stairs.
The hallway felt longer than it was, and when she reached his door, she found it open.
“Come in,” Theodall instructed, “and shut it behind you.”
He had lit two candles in the room, one on the dresser nearest the door, and one on the small table beside the bed. Other than that, it was dark with night, lit predominantly by her own lantern as she stepped in with it.
“And set that down.”
After she had obeyed each in turn, she stood before the shut door, her heart quick in her chest for reasons she couldn’t place.
“Well?” he asked.
“I’ve—” ‘-reconsidered.’ Why was that word, too, difficult to put forward? She had put thought into it, but she hadn’t been prepared for this reaction, and she wasn’t now sure what he thought of her future. How did what he had said fit in with his willingness to secure her studies? Was she not performing well enough? Or did he only want that success for some other reason that was somehow only workable if he managed to marry her off to someone of his choosing? “I don’t understand,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, I-”
“Shhh, shh-shh…perhaps it is best I explain first. You have been a relatively uncomplicated charge, but I am a practical man, Jacline…I do not do things without reason and expectation. A child is no small task to raise, and I never took you in as my daughter, but rather…an investment, as I have made clear before. In exchange for that I have not asked much of you but token attestations to your gratitude. Respect, obedience while under my roof, appreciation…”
“I do-”
“This being said, you are coming of an age not to be a child any longer, where I will begin expecting the most turn around for my efforts. A woman’s primary assets, regardless of what anyone might attempt to tell you, are her youth and reputation. A good union can bring profit for all involved, but no one of merit would trust the pedigree of a girl attempting to make her way alone…I have put good effort into seeing to it that yours has not been damaged by over eager young men—you have not been lying to me, have you?”
The sudden, abrupt question bordering on accusation had her hastening to shake her head. “N-no! Never, I—about what?”
He studied her, and then stepped forward. “Is there anyone else involved in this ‘decision’ of yours? Someone of interest who has convinced you your attentions are best spent on him without my knowledge?” His fingers caught her chin. “Has a boy been with you?”
“No—it was only me- It was that I wasn’t interested, I-I promise. I haven’t—I met a boy the other- There have been boys who have come through the shop,” she said, “but I’ve told you of every one of any importance-”
A finger touched to her lip and she silenced. Theodall’s hand dropped. Her pulse beat a messy rhythm in her chest.
“Take your dress off.”
Jacline stared, and for a moment, could not seem to manage anything else. Then, as if spurned by memory, her gaze flit to the bed. Once upon a time not so long ago, he had implied the same demand. But under entirely different circumstances. Then, it had been to try on new clothing, and even at that time, there had been an unexplained splinter of unease in her to be in such a state in the man’s presence, though she had gone along with it. If it had been anything then, it was an unexplained terror now.
The sting to her eyes returned, along with a quiver to her hands. “Please-” She swallowed. “I do reconsider. I’ll wed whomever you wish me to. I am sorry for making you feel I’m ungrateful, I am more grateful to you than anyone, and I’ll do anything you please, I-”
“Jacline…” A hand came gently to rest at her shoulder, bringing her breath to a fluttering halt, “…are you frightened, girl?”
The blur in her eyes shone briefly, catching bright with the glow of her own irises in the moment before the dampness spilled. She nodded. Theodall’s hand rose, grazing over a line of wet to free her cheek of it.
“You have nothing to be afraid of. There may be much foul in this world, Jacline, and I cannot promise that our interests will always coincide, but you may trust that I will never hurt you…I cannot make any promises as to anyone else…but here it is only the two of us. I am only looking to test something. Do you trust me?”
No. No, no, no—the startling immediacy with which the thought was upon her shocked, and then embarrassed her. How could she not trust him? She owed everything to him. He had always seen to her every need such that she had been raised under a solid roof always with food to eat. “Y-yes, of course.”
Was she lying?
She wasn’t sure.
“I promise, you have nothing to fear from me. Now come, time is a precious commodity.”
Jacline felt her fingers tremble as she reached, for there seemed to be no stopping them no matter how she bid it, but she did manage to find and begin unfastening the back laces of her gown. Theodall observed but did not move. She had beneath it at least brassier and undergarments. They did little to calm her tripping heart as the night air crept over newly bared skin, and there was a peculiar surrealness to the moment when she finished, standing, holding her dress before her and not managing by any force of will to meet his gaze.
“It makes you uncomfortable, does it not?” Apparently, fortunately, an answer did not seem to be needed. She gave a start, only barely quelling an instinctive recoil at a touch to her hip, up to her waist. Her eyes pinched shut. The touch withdrew. Moments passed, after which Theodall gave a soft snort. “Well. I am satisfied, at least, that you are not attempting to deceive me with regard to your chastity…”
Jacline’s eyes flit open, a startled thrum beating at the back of her throat. Was that all this was about? I am only looking to test something. Some combination between relief and mortification threatened to rob the remaining strength in her knees as they quavered, and she rest part of her weight back against the door out of necessity.
“You may put that back on.”
For all the struggle it had been to convince herself to remove it, Jacline found herself in a far readier scramble to pull it back into a state of decency.
“Do you know what it means,” Theodall asked, as she scuffled to redress, “when I say to ‘be with a man’?”
Jacline frowned, fingers fiddling still with cloth. Did she? She knew it had to do with being wed, if done right, but in truth she felt she must still be lacking on the details. It seemed evident that it was not the same as simply sharing space with or touching a boy, but beyond that… She shook her head.
“Men and women are designed for one another by the gods, from our minds down to our bodies. Fundamentally different and both complementary and opposed in kind, we are bound to clash, but inevitably be drawn to one another, either to sin or holy union. I will leave the most fundamental of lessons to your husband when the time arises, but until such time I think it prudent to emphasize again to you as your body blossoms into womanhood and begins to feed you temptation…once you give away more of yourself than you ought, there is no turning back. I have done everything in my power to safeguard your virtue and protect your future…I suggest that you adjust your mindset to begin doing the same. Go. Return to your bed, the night is dark…”
Jacline crouched to pick up her lantern.
“And Jacline…”
She paused with her hand on the door.
“You will not speak of this to anyone again…do you understand?”
She blinked, glancing back, but in the moment there was nothing more to do than nod. Fortunately, this seemed to satisfy him, and as she slipped out and down the hall, pulling immediately into her room and shutting the door behind her, she could not make full sense of all that occurred. Only that her heart was a quick rabbit, reaching the end of its sprint before it collapsed from exhaustion, and though she could not have said why, as she sank to the paneled wood floor beneath her feet, she felt suddenly, very truly alone.
Word Count: 2,389 ✚ ---------------------◥▲◤--------------------- ✚
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