The Governor's Return

Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Carnath-Emory » Thu Jun 27, 2013 5:05 pm

It's beautiful. It's a revelation. It's Myrken as she's never seen it before: resplendent and glittering Myrken; dancing, feasting Myrken, and no-one has even died yet.

Even so, she's had second thoughts. Thoughts on the way here, what if thoughts and maybe not thoughts - and even a perhaps I was wrong, which she voiced with great reluctance, only to find it dealt the same fate as all the rest. They'd decided, after all: she'd explained and they'd agreed, the two of them, and having agreed, it was certain - that it must be done, and that it could be done no other way. But all the same, these second thoughts when she saw the first flicker of torches and wanted, just wanted -

Wanted very much to Believe.

It's the traders that decide her, in the end. Not because the Governor's wife was once a Trader herself, and the swordswoman has an eye for symbols. But her eyes receive the sight of them like a parade of fawning obsequience, hands outstretched and please, please...

She is past them in silence and with hardly a sidelong glance, for one had been enough to satisfy her eyes and the remnants of her indecision. She is past them without a word, blindly brushing aside a hand when one likely fellow recognises the Marshall and thinks to improve her garments, and when she pauses it is not until she has crossed the threshold and into this sea of glittering excess.
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Rance » Thu Jun 27, 2013 5:33 pm

Outside
he blackened boots for passers-by--

He hunched down, so wiry of spine,
and listened to the hum of words as lasses and fellows
took to one another like droplets of water
of a human sea
for tonight was the night--
"He returns, he returns!"
"Who," said a boy, with yellowed teeth.
"Our governor from long-and-off," said another.
"When might he arrive," a little girl asks,
And aghast, for Da' was gazing a tradeswoman's breasts--
"When he so wishes, when he so might,
for this is our governor Glenn Burnie's night."

The squeak and stroke of rag on boot
and blackened hands that worked on every foot
to sweep free mud and put
shine
to
shoe
palms as black as hearthstone soot--
But the boot-blacker's eye caught one amid
the surge of towners -- so stark the suit, so firm the form,
a stride that sought its pride
with every step, and yet seemed

off.

But she did not stop for beads or lace
and she did not pause
for cinnamon treats--
Still, just as he blacked another pair
he saw that gaze from beneath his veil
and shed a grin, emblackened, shrewd.

A scar was there; uniform, too. A

swordswoman.

He knew her once, and she--
Why, she'd not changed.

And he, one of them,
in saggy-brimmed hat and peculiar veil
outside
he blackened boots for passers-by--
and considered, as she passered-by

what the Marshall had done with her silver eye.
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby catch » Thu Jun 27, 2013 5:55 pm

She came away, and it was an insult, it was a hurt, a natural reaction that had become as calculated and cruel as a fellow's whip. Catch's dull eyes darken, from sky-bright to sky-night, his too-pretty, too-bred face a mask as unreal, carved, as the horn against his shoulder-blades.

when the face is like this, it is not a human face. Observe the chin, which becomes nonexistant; observe the nose, an unbroken bridge between thick brows and wide lips. observe the ears -

"Those sluts," he says, a word that came easily to him, his eyes turning aside from Rhaena, his face a knife in the perfumed air. It is a mimicked-word, one meant for harsher company than lace and frills and fine, good cloth.

he wonders why he was ever afraid of good, rich cloth, of sparkling medals on a uniform-breast.


Those honey-cakes await, and Catch would wait upon them more than he would a Lady Rhaena, something undefined a pinprick in his brains, a howling scream down the empty worm-holes. He is angry, and his fingers are curled into a fist.

"I took her to the moon-flowers, I showed her," he says, his throat a swelling against his angered chords, the sound of heavy bee's wings drowning out all the pretties, all the music. "I t-t-took her there, and she held my hand - and Ser Glenn said, put her back together. You may put her back together -" And a harsh, nasty sound comes from him, a nasty sort of laugh reserved only for a thing as vile as the Fat Man, his eyes darting downward to the little shadow at his side. "I loved her very much, and I p-p-put her back together, and they left, they left. What is Good Citizenry about that?"

The honey cakes. He must have them. In his greed he took the pan, and he glared at Ser Kals in his moon-born suit, at Kacela and her sun, and it was wrong, all-wrong, the suits and the dresses and the Marshall at the door, with no webbed wings and furnace-belly to follow -

"What did I do wrong?" he asks Cherny, and he is no longer angry, but his voice is a small thing, a tiny mouse who finds itself in the middle of the kitchen, with no easy escape in sight.
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Cherny » Thu Jun 27, 2013 11:50 pm

The mill-boy has always respected Sera Olwak, even admired her. He has experienced her kindness first-hand as she taught figures and letters alongside good manners and courtesy. He has seen how she has patiently guided Myrkentown's children in their struggles with arithmetic and grammar; how she has led them in their faltering pursuit of knowledge with gentle grace, praising them when they succeeded and encouraging them when they stumbled. In his mind she stands alongside the stained-glass saints of the chapel windows, Our Lady of the Schoolroom, wise and kindly in her elegant gowns, a hand lifted in benediction for rows of little heads bowed over slate and paper.

How strange that a high opinion might be cracked by so small a thing - a word, a gesture, a look, a fleeting instant that yet allows a glimpse of something unsavoury beneath. Smiles as fixed as porcelain dolls, words sweet and hollow as wind-stirred chimes.

Catch's words have been scandalous, accusations that might have earned him a slap were he anyone else, but he is not; he is Catch, Milord Ser Catch the Grand, and his words do not necessarily have the same meaning they would from any other lips. He requires patience, understanding, not smiling rebukes and a question that mockingly denied the man's proclaimed wholeness. Clearly he was not happy, and thus he could not be whole.

It was the hand. He'd reached for her hand, the hand he'd given her, and received only a cold refusal; a fine lady who draws her silk skirts beyond a beggar's filthy grasp, who looks to her servants to see the horrid thing driven away.

Perhaps it is the wine - a glass set down unattended is fair game, to his mind, so he has probably imbibed more than is strictly sensible. It is heady stuff, more potent than the half-mugs of ale he drinks with his stew, and its bubbles tickle distractingly at his thoughts as he steers Catch back towards the food table, a hand for the man's wrist, for his hand, a touch to guide and placate.

The addled man's words are a thunder overhead, and he can only nod in agreement while was I wrong? was I wrong? dances through his head. Was he wrong to believe Sera Olwak so good, to dismiss the warnings of Elliot Brown, to assume he was merely jealous of Cherny's schooling? Elliot Gahald now, not Elliot Brown -

- I have pledged myself to Lady Olwak -
- she's mucked with your mind, you know -

- she is my Lady and I am her vassal -
- she's got your mind good, Cherny -

- her vessel -
- she'll fry your brain and make you do what she wants -

- her most loyal knight -


- who had called her mindwitch, had vowed to see her exposed, to tear away the grace and elegance he decried as a lie.

Beside a table laden with delicious dainties and delicacies, amid shimmering swirls of silk and satin, a boy knows doubt.

It's his friend's question, plaintive, unsure, that draws his thoughts back to the here-and-now. A glance to follow the addled man's gaze to the veiled man and his wolf-bride, to Sera Five-Shillings, to Sera Dulcie the tavern-lady, to Noura in her blood-finery being led away by Elliot Gahald.

He reaches absently for some sweet confection of pastry and glazed strawberry, and can only shake his head. Torn, half-wishing to flee the smothering perfume and brittle laughter in favour of sweeter air, to seek peace in the summer's evening outdoors; but the Governor is to return, Ser Burnie who has taken an interest in the boy, who has gifted Catch with house and goat and more.

"Maybe w-we were, were wrong to c-come here, Ser C-catch."
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Glenn » Fri Jun 28, 2013 2:23 am

"It's wonderful, Miss Whelp." And he seemed about to launch into another fine speech without much heart to it but full of noble words. Instead, he advanced a bit closer to her. He was earnest, he meant those speeches. It was not just a role but himself, but it was only most of him. "I have been away from civilization for so long. Away from people. I was just in a dangerous, deadly place, Miss Whelp. To come back here and to be able to celebrate something with good people, and good song, and good food. Beautiful clothes. People smiling and dancing and happy. It's what makes it all worth it. It's what we fight for." He had her hand and would even squeeze a little bit and it was young and excited and thankful.

When he looked at her there were flecks of exhilaration in his smile. "If all eyes are upon me, then that means there's something worth seeing, perhaps? These are good, kind people, some just under very heavy weight. Even Mister Catch wants to do good. I am sure of it. That Lady Olwak values me enough to be shown off like this, it means she is proud. Of me and of you."

He fluctuated a little, between those high words and something with a bit more vulnerability. Didn't she see how they were alike, even if he didn't? As if he had died and been possessed too. "I'm not very good at dancing either, Miss Whelp. I'm learning but I had no chances to before, except for barn dances, and there's so much to do and so little time. Maybe we could do our best now and you could learn with me in the weeks to come?"
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Jirai » Fri Jun 28, 2013 3:05 am

Cherny drew Catch away, to the cakes and the sweets and this was a good thing. It afforded Rhaena Olwak a moment to step back, to consider the room in its entirety, a smile growing as bronze eyes dance over perfection. Petronela and her teahouse girls, all aflutter in their bright dresses. Her brother and Kacela, the former as stunning as she would expect, the latter far beyond her wildest expectations. No shoes, but still. A vast improvement. Councilor Treadwell and his wife leaving already, but that might be for the best as far as the banquet tables are concerned. Beautiful Dulcie next to Councilor Berdini, while her Knight and the Whelp make a handsome pair... and still there were more. Wheeling about the dance floor, conversing in small groups here and there. Really, there's only one flaw that she finds and for an instant her eyes narrow - but then it's gone, fleeting expression replaced by a bright smile and a nod for the Marshall.

It is almost time.
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Guppy » Fri Jun 28, 2013 8:35 am

He insisted upon the title carrying her name and it sounded so silly. She had corrected him time and again, but he refused to give in. "It is just Whelp, Elliot. Not Miss Whelp," she chided. His formality grated on her while she was much more familiar than he would like. "Or, if you would prefer, others call me Noura. Gloria supplied me with a name when Niall discovered that Whelp was a name given by It," she offered, unapologetic for her mention of his "witch". Miss Noura was far preferable to Miss Whelp, if he preferred to stand on ceremony. It would not sound quite so silly, at least. It's wonderful, he asserted of the party. Her gaze wandered the room and it left her with a sour expression that made it clear that she did not agree. She took note of the wild woman, Kacela, and lifted her hand in a simple wave. Cherny and Catch were observed and her cheeks colored to be seen like this. Without Beatrice, the feathers, and her more plain attire. She wondered if they would think that she had been molded into a stranger, as well. The Knight-Elliot stepped in closer and filled her vision, that familiar earnest expression within his eyes. The one that made her want to recoil. Hope often stirred within her heart, ignoring the naysayings of the creature, whenever she caught glimpses of the old Elliot. Whenever he gave her one of his speeches and that fervent look stole upon his face, she found her hope waning. Elliot Brown had never leveled that expression at her until he changed.

He told her that this moment was what he fought for and she scowled a little. "This just seems so ... false," she uttered, unable to completely verbalize just how this opulent display disquieted her. Perhaps she had spent far too long under the creature's tutelage, but she felt that every smile held contempt, every laugh sounded hollow. A snort of disbelief sounded from the young woman clad in all crimson when he mentioned that Lady Olwak was proud of them both. Proud of her. "I still think it is silly to expect that evil will be vanquished with a little ribbon and jewelry." Still, the sudden vulnerability in his tone when he spoke of his Lady's pride was surprising and she tilted her head to peer at him shrewdly. She did wonder at times at how alike they were. Forgotten pasts. Perhaps she had done the opposite - perhaps she had been a proper lady of grace and poise before her death. She wondered if she would ever know.

He might not be wholly the young man that she had feelings for, but it was all too easy to give in to him when he asked her to learn how to dance with him. With a sigh, she nodded begrudgingly and offered him her hand. Her skin was cool against his own if he took it to lead her to the dance floor as he had requested. Her tone turned wistful, however, and her hands sought to ensnare one of his between them. She tried to still him, mere inches from his intended goal, her expression coaxing. "Are you absolutely certain that you don't want to leap upon the table and insult everyone? Or buy everyone a plate of duck? Or show me a slug monster with your magical blade? Or maybe to steal upstairs covertly to select the most expensive and unguarded treasures that might be there?," she questioned, hopefully. Of course, she knew his answer even before asking.
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Glenn » Sat Jun 29, 2013 3:02 am

"Attitude is very important, Miss Noura," the change in what he called her had been seamless, and maybe he spoke it with just a little more familiarity; why not, after all? They were now aimed towards the same purpose, even if she was only reluctantly so. "Celebrating the light's important too." It was a speech but less serious of one. "It reminds of why we fight. I've found that the darkness, your It included, is much less powerful when you don't show it fear. If you carry on and if you try to enjoy life, then it gets smaller and smaller and smaller." Then, sudden, young and bright, his smile shown at her, for her and her alone.

She continued on though, mentioning a number of things and he laughed. "I've only had duck a few times in my life actually, but if you'd like it, we could try it, Miss Noura. As for the rest, what I would like is to take the weeks that we have and learn to dance together. I know it's not all those other things, but would you like to learn with me?"
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Carnath-Emory » Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:30 am

It was not, in the end, the delicate beauty of it all. It was not even the cloud of perfumed intentions, the sea of silken colour within which there's no room for steel things, for hard-edged things at all. It was not the cloying sweetness of little delicacies or the abundance of sparkling wine, but only this:

the subtle uncertainty woven into Cherny's small features.
the painstaking glory of golden Catch.

That is the moment in which a hand which had hesitated near an offered tray made final its refusal, and set fingertips instead to the finely-bound hilt at her hip. And when the Marshall turned, it was not to leave - not yet - but to capture the Lady's glance with her own: Rhaena Olwak, comtessa and princess and dainty queen, holding court and all too aware of the blight stuck right into the middle of it. Deliberately dark with her colours, this evening, with a uniform's clean, militant lines. Deliberately hard with her eyes, cool and grey and lingering long, long upon the woman

until she turned her back upon it all and silently walked away.
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Hail the Returning Hero.

Postby Glenn » Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:36 am

Glenn Burnie had been trained from birth to appreciate long-term investments. Life was capricious. Life was full of chance and contingency. Life was full of sudden disaster that could not be predicted or prevented. Nowhere was this more true than Myrken Wood. Change happened over generations. Change happened if one stayed true to his policies, if a land stayed true to its ideals over time

A certain level of stability was necessary for that. Vision, on its own, could not thrive in chaos. That was the entire mentality behind Glenn Burnie's governance of Myrken Wood. It was ever his goal to create a stable environment so that a true future could be built for the people here, for his people and for his land.

Ariane Emory had asked of its cost to the Governor, of its cost to Glenn Burnie's humanity. The truth is that so long as he was the one carrying the burden, any cost would be worth it. But only so long as it was he paying it.

Glenn Burnie's Myrken was a means, not an end. This room? This garish ball? These people moving as they did in luxury and propriety? This was not Glenn Burnie's Myrken. It was an end, Rhaena Olwak's end, and all of Myrken was paying the cost for her benefit.

"What have you done?" Glenn and Rhaena did not ask each other questions. For much of the time that they knew each other it was absolutely unnecessary. He knew all she knew. There was no distance between them, no doubts. Oh perhaps when she was most vulnerable some things were kept from her, but that was a one way street.

Now though? Now there were secrets.

He had entered through the door and suddenly, upon seeing her, despite her great power, there could be secrets no more.

Burnie was ready for anything. Burnie was ready for everything. This though? This was more than he could have imagined. With a last look at the beautiful Angel of Myrken in her beautiful gown, with one last glare, he turned upon his heel and stormed out, door slamming behind him.
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Jirai » Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:36 am

It was an end. Rhaena Olwak's end.

Yet it was a means as well, a means to something so dear that it could not be spoken of.

And it was beautiful.

See it here, see it now. The room decorated for a ball, the likes of which would have been unimaginable years before. A ball to rival Razasan's finest. See the couples spinning about the dance floor, see their fine garb, hear their laughter. It was perfect.

Until he spoke.

Until he asked a question. How long has it been since he had needed to question her, or she him? How long since there had been secrets?

Secrets, though, are easier kept with distance, unmentioned. With that question, with his look, walls come down. All of them? How could he know? How could he be sure?

It should have been beautiful.

See it here, see it now. A ball to rival Razasan's finest. See the Governor storm out, hear the door slam behind him. See the Angel pick up her skirts, watch her follow him with hurried steps.

"Glenn. Glenn, wait."
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Glenn » Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:38 am

He loved her. People wondered why they never married, but people should have never questioned their love. Even when he could feel nothing at all, it was a given. He could act accordingly because he knew it was truth. She was an exception and it was easy with her, always, no matter who she happened to be at the time. Now that he was beginning to feel so much again, it was overwhelming. He wanted to get swept away by her, by her presence and her beauty and her means. He'd carried this load for so, so long. He was tired and here she was, offering to take it all from him, to push Myrken to where it needed to be, without all the pain and without all the loss and without the generations of toil and heartache. Glenn Burnie was creating a promised land he would never see. Rhaena Olwak would make all of that unnecessary. All it would cost was everything that they ever were.

It was for her, not for their people, no matter how nicely she attired it.

"I knew you were taking liberties, Rhaena," this as he was still walking, disgust and bile rising up from his stomach where just a few months ago he might not have felt anything at all. "But I thought you'd get it out of your system. A few little pushes to make things easier. Not that." He turned, finally, faced her, looked at her as if he didn't even know who he was looking at, his eyes a mix of love and horror, but most of all, of drive and determination. It had taken him six steps, maybe seven, to decide that he simply could not let go. That it had took that many was a sign of his fascination and love for her. "Not this." There was no more hiding anything from him. He saw it all.

"These people. You made them think they wanted everything different out of life." The first offense, her clunkier work. "You made that cruel little farmgirl think she lived to brush your hair, Rhaena!"
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Jirai » Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:39 am

No matter who she was, she had always loved him. That was never in question. More than that, it was a reason. She knew what he wanted, knew Glenn Burnie's Myrken as deeply as he himself did. She'd made it her own, because the cost of her Myrken might be everything they ever were, but the cost of his was too much to bear.

It was for him, and for a dream that would not come true.

"And isn't that better than what she had before?" Love and horror, drive and determination. Her gaze was twin to his own, save only the horror as she took a few steps to close the gap between them. "Marriage to a man who would beat her, a babe for her every year, children to beat as her own mother did her? Would you rather that for her?"
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Glenn » Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:40 am

"No." He wouldn't. He wouldn't have that for any of his people. That's why he did everything that he did and they paid the cost in other ways, in many ways, sometimes in the ultimate way, but never, never in this way. "It had to be her choice. It had to be her decision. We could have given her opportunity. We could have given her a chance. The hardship would have made her appreciate everything. It makes us strong. We endure and we strive and we grow. We always grow. What you've done is made her into someone else. Someone has a better life, Rhaena, but it's not her. She's gone. No," he added, looking at her straight on. "Two people have a better life now.

"She benefits you too. They all do." That did. The Ball. Razasan culture. The beauty. That wasn't Myrken, not really. Maybe they'd get there someway but as a hybrid, as something that grew organically, not this. "At least she resembles who she was. You can draw something of a line. Brown, though? A boy, and that's all he was and you know it, speaks ill of you, and you make him so that that person simply never was. It wasn't to make his life better, not really. He was happy as a pig in shit. It's because he defied you," like no one else had. And she crushed him for it.
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Re: The Governor's Return

Postby Jirai » Sat Jun 29, 2013 11:41 am

"And what if she died before she got that chance? What then, Glenn?" A shake of her head. "This is better. Better for her. Yes, better for me as well. Better for everyone." She gestured widely with her gloved hand.

"Elliot? Elliot is who he was meant to be. Who he would have been, if it weren't for the Ashfiend. Who he would have been if he were born later, born in Glenn Burnie's Myrken. Why should he not have that? Why should he waste himself on petty thievery until he loses a hand for the fact he was born too soon? I gave him the chance he should have had, the chance Myrken stole from him. He defied me and I gave him a future."
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