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 Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2015 8:23 pm
The room smelt of ink, old paper, and dust, though Malikai was not certain how, clean as every room in Laesara’s house always was. Across it, the muted snap of a low fire sounded — a quiet backdrop to the silence of the room otherwise only broken up by the scuffing of a quill, Laesara’s, on parchment, and the occasional shift of paper. She sat bent, some several feet from him, over a desk upon which a small ream of letters sat, to which she was either responding or editing or—
Well, sometimes Malikai did not even to pretend to understand exactly what all it was she or other nobles did amongst themselves and how their seemingly complex webs of correspondence worked. He sat with a book in his lap. He meant to read, truly, and learn, that he might not make quite so much of a fool of himself. The reading in this instance was heavy, though. Old history, of the sort where he wondered as he drudged through the pages painfully as drawing blood from a stone why anyone still bothered to write about it, let alone study it, and after a time, the words began blurring together, the lines of ink bleeding one into the next.
It didn’t help that he didn’t know a good scattering of the terms used. Which hardly seemed fair, since he considered himself a decent reader by this point. He narrowed his eyes on one such term.
Recrudescent.
Recrudescent.
Was it even truly a word? Or did scribes occasionally amuse themselves coming up with a random promising combination of letters that they then fed to the public to make them guess and look like fools doing it. After a time spent trying to glean from the context what the word might mean, Malikai eventually grunted, sighed, huffed, and then pushed up from his sitting position, resorting to his previous source of light to shed unto confusing inquiries as they related to strange words.
“Laesara…” He hefted the tome and laid it carefully on the table, out of her way but propped up so that she might see the word he indicated to. “Is ‘is even a word in honest…?”
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Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2015 9:36 pm
Laesara had learned to read and write a long time ago, an intensive series of lessons that had burned language into her brain. She was capable now, of course, but literacy still resisted her. Every day, she had to use those skills, and every day they rebelled against her, making her stumble over words as she read them and squint at words as she wrote them, like roadblocks on the route to communication. In private, she still moved her lips when she read, not quite whispering their words into the living world – it helped. There was little help to writing, however. It fought her the hardest, her thoughts warring with her hands, her hands warring with the ink, the ink conspiring with the paper to ruin all the effort that went into every pen stroke. The result was passable handwriting and slow correspondence, and it just kept piling up. “Hmm?” she looked up at Malikai, her eyes distant with focus as she gave them a break from her latest letter – a note to a fellow young noble officer in her unit, reminding him that she might still remember certain incidents involving weapons and foolish pranks, and that she might remember them to someone else if her cousin did not get that invitation to his party, as promised. Or something... they all just blur together, sometimes. she thought as she squinted at the offered word. Recalci... no... Recrus... no, Recrudescent? Recrudescent?! What was that supposed to be?! Was that seriously a word?! “It doesn't look like one... But I'm not sure...” she looked over with some apprehension to the massive tome nearby. Should I look it up? she wondered, eying it. The bloody thing weighed approximately more than her, and it took forever to look up anything amidst its dizzying, tightly-worded pages. I should look it up. “Let me look.” She confronted the dictionary like any foe, though it was only slightly more forgiving than a dragon. She flipped to the Rs – thankfully marked – and began to flip through...
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Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2015 9:10 am
Malikai watched the train of Laesara’s expressions as they shifted across her face, her distant eyes focusing in — away from far-off persons, places, and thoughts — to pin on him and stick there. A flush crawled up his neck, threatening to seep into his cheeks, and he dipped his lashes, turning his gaze to the book, as though it were suddenly necessary to re-inspect. Books, at least, however boring on occasion, did not inspire wayward thoughts to places his wandering mind had no business being.
Her response, though, startled him enough to send his eyes darting back up and blinking in puzzlement. “You…don’t know it?”
That — however selfish the thought may be — was comforting. Validating, in a way, in that if even his lady Laesara was not familiar with the word, surely there was no shame in him finding it strange and unfamiliar. He followed in her wake, opening his mouth once to offer to help her with the book if she needed — it looked intimidating enough by sheer virtue of size, and he wasn’t personally certain why any language would even need so many words as those fit in its pages — but then, she was flipping through it on her own, and he shut his mouth again. Easy enough to keep quiet and steady his focus on the careful sweep and flick of her fingers, the warm brush of firelight on her cheeks and in her hair, all supplemented by the whiter glow of aedaun magic that lit much of the room in a firefly-esque style, all but certainly at her uncle’s design. The lock of loose hair that coiled its way down her throat and—
Or the floor.
The floor, Malikai decided, was always a safe place for his eyes. “M’sorry t’ distract you from wha’ever it was you were up to. Next time, I c’n look myself, I just…” He let the sentence trail off. It didn’t do much good now, after all, as she was already distracted from what she’d been up to, and his babbling sounded unduly loud and wasteful in the quiet of the private library.
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Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2015 2:36 pm
“No, I don't know it.” she said absently, as her eyes roved over the pages. Who knew so many words could begin with R, let alone R-E-C? She had never thought of R as being a particularly important consonant at the beginning of the word, but she was beginning to see her error. Oh, am I seeing it. she cringed mentally, longing to close her eyes and just... not read. She was close – she knew she was close – and she waved off Malikai's offer of help. As it turned out, she regretted that, as she was not as close as she had thought. Damn things. Why do we not have magic ones? Where a word can be entered in and a series of definitions found in mere moments? Surely, such a thing was possible, and far more efficient than this massive tome ever would be. “It's no problem.” To be honest, she was enjoying – to some extent – the distraction. “I was actually thinking of putting aside the correspondence and going for a walk...” she paused in her searching to glance up at him, “In the garden, if you're interested.” And out of this stuffy room... Which wasn't actually so stuffy. In fact, it was a very nice library. But Laesara had been cooped inside for too long and she was so, so, so very done with reading and writing for today. “Aha!” she pinned the word victoriously beneath her finger, “Recrudescent; to return anew, to return after abatement as in a disease or an infestation...” she raised a golden eyebrow at Malikai, “What were you reading?”
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2015 6:33 pm
At mention of going for a walk — and actually stretching and moving instead of stationary, silent activity within walls — Malikai immediately perked up, opening his mouth. “I’d love t’—”
At her second and final follow up, however, he paused, blinking rapidly.
“I, ah…” After the moment it took him to regain his bearings, he glanced in the direction of the text he had been at least attempting to grapple with, and flushed, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck as he did. “Dunno, some…history o’ some battle o’ such an’ so…found tha’ I’d be readin’ along for a good pace an’ then ‘alfway down th’ page I realized I’d no idea wha’ I’d just read, so I’d start over ‘gain…but ‘um.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting briefly, tellingly, towards the door before he shot her a sheepish grin. “A walk sounds magnificent, m’lady, if you’re feelin’ it.”
The Wymrith estate was a sight to behold at any hour, from just about any location, but there was something especially resplendent, Malikai thought, about the way the rippling blend of magic, architecture and landscaping looked in early night, lit up by the dancing magics that surrounded the place. It felt almost mythical, as though fairies darted and lined the white stone paths.
And, there wasn’t much Malik wouldn’t give for an excuse to break from dictionaries and parchment.
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Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 8:23 pm
A history of battle, hmm... Laesara thought, impressed. I'd have not thought him ready for such a tome... she eyed it with some slight misgiving. She herself would be wary of daring its wordsome depths. She put on her coat, trying not to seem too eager to be out of the room. Autumn was a delightful season in Serenia, a time when the colors of flames touched the trees without burns or destruction. It wasn't yet cold enough to effect Laesara's mood, but there was a n** in the air she found invigorating. ”Ah!” she exclaimed, taking in a gust of fresh air. Soon, that n** would grow into the full on bite of winter and bring the darker days and sapping cold, and she would be forced to fight the constant lethargy of it, but for now the n** was just enough to dance on her skin and tingle on her lungs. ”Freedom, at last.” She took a moment just to breathe the air and admire the carefully landscaped architecture, wreathed as it was now in a dignified smattering of leaffall (The wet, brown, less attractive dead leaves had already been removed.) The glow of a magical light lit her face briefly, and she smiled in it's heatless glow as she offered an elbow to Malikai. Nevermind that it was technically his job, as her squire, to offer his arm – they were not being watched, and somehow in Laesara's mind, the outdoors was her domain. It was only polite to invite him. ”Well.” she said, as they started down the path, ”If you're reading that sort of book, you must be coming along with your studies.” To some degree anyway ”Why don't you tell me about them?”
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2015 4:35 pm
Malikai moved abreast with Laesara, his eyes on her, off again, and then back. When they stepped out into the evening air — brisk as it tickled his skin to attention — he blamed the chill for the warmth that tinted his cheeks, and the serenity of the surrounding atmosphere for the smile that tugged into place on his lips after watching her light up in the weather. It was lovely out, and surely that was reason enough to appreciate all the things that made it so. Flushing all the more warmly as the gravity behind that thought sank in, Malikai turned his gaze to more appropriate things.
The firefly glimmer to the air. The twinkle of a glow to the white pebble path that wound its way through the maze of a garden. The glint on the trickling water of the artificial river where he had made his first — albeit unfortunate at the time — encounter with Laesara.
He noticed her offered arm only belatedly, and felt the heat already in his cheeks climb to his eartips. But, figuring that surely any other course of action would be at least as unacceptable as taking it — and wanting, in the moment, to do nothing more — he slipped his through hers, and tried not to pay an inordinate amount of attention to how close this brought them, and how warm her body felt so near to his in contrast to the cool air. The endeavor was largely unsuccessful.
“I am makin’ progress, I like t’ think, though I’m never sure how much of it’ll be of great use if I’m t’ be fighting with blades, not books. It never hurts, though…’cept possibly my head.” He paused, considering a moment. “Well…before things got less, er, engagin’…I was readin’ about the Battle of Eratholm, where a platoon of ‘blivionite soldiers gutted the bellies of a couple o’ meat kargoth, set to be brought into market for sale. Climbed in like a nest o’ parasites and smuggled ‘emselves into the city…” Malik trailed off as he realized that his, despite being interesting, wasn’t perhaps the most pleasant of topics to be discussing with a lady. “Er, and I’ve…improved a good bit in my writing, or so I’m told…tried my hand at poetry, though it’s not much to tell about. And…” He glanced to her. “Your studies?”
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2015 10:56 am
The Only Black Uke Quote: It is nice to be close to someone so absent of ulterior motives, so free of machinations... she thought, relaxing in the dusky air. Perhaps she was blushing, too. Perhaps not – it would be hard to tell in the golden wardlight, an effective disguise for her yellow skin. Not that she would have minded – she had license to blush, and she never did so in excess. Books, in Laesara's opinion, did help fight battles – they helped one understand strategy. Then again, she was to be an officer, and it was obviously more important for her to know the lore of past battles. However... “It's good to know strategy – when you understand the purpose of your orders, you fight better, and are more in tune with them.” she explained, “And, when things are not being planned well by your superiors, you are armed with knowledge to stand out and be a hero.” and save their rear ends. Malikai could be a hero, Laesara was sure. He was brave and kind and actually very good at fighting. And, when he bothered to use it, he had a brain. He just had to know how to be a hero. That would be nice, wouldn't it.“Well, we've covered that battle. A very clever strategy, actually... one that works only so long as the meat is not checked or pre-gutted...” she said, noticing his unease. She almost laughed at it – lady she was, but she was also in the military... She couldn't be repulsed by such things. - but she did not laugh. She just smiled reassuringly. “But if the soldiers hadn't realized what they were doing, and the bigger picture of it all, one of them might have gotten tired of their... confinement... and given them all away, and that would have been that.” If Oblivionites could tire in that way. She really liked the strategies, the games of cat-and-bouken that made up so much of war. It was not unlike the games of nobles, but the stakes were different - the games of war were tallied in the lives of soldiers and civilians. Lae intended to be good at them. That his writing was improving was good. Writing and reading opened so many doors, and she wanted that for Malikai. Laesara really did. “Poetry?” she said, surprised, “Truly? Anything you would, perhaps, read to me?” Later, of course, when they got back. I wonder what he's written? she thought to herself. Poetry was not something she expected from Malikai, though, as she thought about it further, she found she wasn't surprised. He had the soul for it, at least sort of. I wonder if there is anything about me...? The thought almost stopped her cold. Why should there be anything about her in his poetry? Why did she want there to be? “Well, much the same. Obviously, I'm a little further along in my strategic studies, but also in philosophy and the classics as well...” And arithmetic, but she didn't want to speak of that horrible monstrousity. She needed it, of course, but to her it was squat and ugly and unpleasant, like the Soldulan gargoyle that her father had in his collection. “Have you ever heard this before; 'All are equal in feather and dust?'” she asked Malikai.
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Posted: Fri Oct 02, 2015 11:32 am
Malikai flushed, rolling his shoulders. “I dunno ‘bout ‘hero.’ Seems half the time tha’s just some’on who thinks they know better’n some’on else an’ choosin’ not to do as they’re told, even if they don’ know th’ whole picture, but…” He shrugged. “I suppose it helps t’ know what you can. I like readin’ about it, when th’ readin’s not…” ‘Dull’ seemed unfair and almost rude, since the great majority of the reason he even had the chance to learn so much was due to his associations with Laesara. “Well, some’re easier’n others, I s’pose is all.”
When the subject turned to his poetry, heat crawled upwards, burning his eartips, and he cleared his throat. “I, er—well, it’s not…nothin’ good, really,” he said. “Would be a waste t’ spend readin’, I think, f’r you…none of it hardly, er…” He glanced to her, and then away, studying the pattern of white stones beneath their feet instead. “None of it hardly does its subject matter justice. But I’ve figured, so long as no one’s gonna waste time with their eyes on it all anyhow…doesn’ much hurt me t’ try my hand at it now an’ again.”
In truth, he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to try at all. He knew the results weren’t all that impressive, and likely wouldn’t ever be. But, in reading the little poetry that he had, something about the form and depth of conveyance appealed to him. The ability to take just a few words and speak volumes — paint out feelings and sights and experiences that couldn’t be expressed adequately any other way — that amazed and inspired him. As though, if he could get good enough, perhaps he could bind his feelings in ink and leave them there, somewhere beautiful and harmless, tucked safely between two pieces of parchment, as opposed to churning uselessly and problematically in his chest.
He suspected, though, he would never touch near that level of skill.
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Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2015 9:25 pm
“Yes, and sometimes they are fortunate to find something that their superiors missed... but sometimes, yes, they don't. Those are never the ones that become a part of history.” she mused, “I'm... glad... that you like reading about it, though. It really will give you an edge, out there.” You need it... she thought, then corrected herself, No, I really think he can do it, become a hero. and not, of course, because of his humble origins. Much as she wanted to talk about strategy... much as she always wanted to talk about strategy... She found her mind drifting, again, to poetry. I suppose it is fitting Lae thought, relaxing, Walking in the garden, arm and arm, talking about poetry... Ah, but fitting for who? Laesara quickly stopped that line of thinking. “If you won't tell me about your poetry...” she smiled, wryly, “Are there any that are your particular favorites? I would like to hear them...”
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Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 11:39 am
“Perhaps it will,” he agreed amiably. It certainly couldn’t hurt, or he hoped not. When Laesara turned the topic back to his ‘favorites’, he blinked, startled. “I-I, ah…favorites of…mine own, or…? Y’ mean favorite authors an’ pieces by others?”
That had to be what she meant. It really didn’t make sense to want to hear his, certainly not here, on such an otherwise lovely night. Malik felt sure that the prettiness of the occasion would only make his own penned words seem all the more clumsy and difficult to behold by comparison. So, he went with the only other logical assumption.
“I dunno, um…Illinore Lokranth strings ‘er words together so elegant I think she could make talk of anythin’ sound fantasmal when y’ read of it…I liked, though, in particular, ‘In Another Sky’ and ‘Where the Morning Blooms.’ I can’t recall all their words off th’ top o’ my head, though…”
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Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 12:56 pm
“By others.” she clarified. Obviously, she wouldn't get to hear his poetry. Maybe she could mention her own? But they were unrefined, as of yet, the things she wrote in margins and spare papers that came into her head like fluttering butterflies, not ready for the eyes of others. The poetry of established writers was... safer. She smiled at the ones he mentioned. “I don't recall all the words myself, but...” she recited one of the verses of 'In Another Sky'. It was a relatively short poem, but it had an epic feel to it, a hinting of a deeper story beneath the beautiful words. “Fantasmal?” Is that even a word? “I've always thought that they were more ethereal, or dreamlike, maybe a little... hopeful? I haven't read 'Where the Morning Blooms'” she admitted, “Is it much the same?”
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Posted: Tue Oct 13, 2015 5:35 pm
“It, er, yes…” Malikai said, flushing. “Tha’s…what I meant.” ‘By fantasmal.’ Perhaps it wasn’t a word, given her confusion over it, though it sounded to him like it ought to be one, if it wasn’t. “And it…well, the first is grander, I think, despite how short it is. But the other is…more like somethin’ lovely just to be lovely, long, and winding…a bit like nature herself sometimes, I think…but I like both in their own ways.”
He glanced about, wondering to himself how it had already gotten so dark in what felt like such a brief period. Then again, time with Laesara seemed to fly of its own regard, no matter how selfishly he attempted to hoard it, and though he knew both of them had things to do come morning and duties to tend to, he was in no hurry to point out the fading hours. As long as she would let him, he felt sure he could enjoy even just silence in her company.
“If I ever write somethin’ just the least bit not completely awful,” Malik said, “an’ if I can manage the courage to do so, mayhaps I’ll slip it somewhere you can find it—anonymous like. Then, you c’n read it in private an’ laugh at all my awful letterin’ an’ style-lessness…but it’ll be yours just the same.”
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Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2015 8:20 pm
The darkness did not bother Laesara. It hid things well, both lies and honest emotions. The paths were well lit, besides, with the wisp-lights. It was a small matter to add her own to the mix with a gesture, and illuminate their way. It had a remarkable effect of isolating them, almost, in an island of light amidst the growing darkness. Untrue, of course – they were no more isolated or alone then they were inside – but she enjoyed the effect, none the less. “I think,” she said, the dusk hiding her smile and what perhaps was a deepening of the orange of her face, “I would like that very much.”
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Posted: Mon Nov 30, 2015 3:50 pm
There comes a moment in each life — sometimes many more than one, in those disposed more to boldness — wherein, despite all logic of caution, the mind wanders to a place far too daring to be wise, and too pleasant to be real. In the scattering of seconds where the garden light engulfed them, just the two, and Laesara’s lips curved up, Malikai’s gaze caught on that motion, and lingered. Too long. It couldn’t have been but a moment, faster than a blink, but still it came, where he let himself wonder what it would mean to close that distance. What it would be like to kiss her. Just once. Immediately after, his gaze yanked away, abashed heat flaring to the surface as it should because the thought never should have come near to him. It was improper, impolite, unwarranted, misplaced and presumptuous. And yet, still the words left him: “Then I’ll do my best t’ make it happen, m’lady.” And he did. ••• Where is the white dawn?
Whimsy, like dreams, sharply draws an answer near:
Dance lightly, like light—leaning gold on feathers,
Life is a girl unkissed.
•••
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