Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Printable Version
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Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Hobo_Bob - 06-26-2015
Once Rhys was behind the desk - Elijah walking off to steam as he was one to do - her humming turned into whistling. She was very good at whistling to boot. Clear notes sung out from her puckered lips that looked painted. In a way, she almost didn't hear the easily agitated one's 'request' to stop making noise. But as one was want to do, they ignored it and continued on their marry way.
Except for this one, it was a little louder.
All to drown out the sounds of the angry book calling out to her. Almost as if the 'words' were painful to hear, Rhys tried to ignore them by making noise of her own.
A woman came in and smiled at her and the book mouse. But Rhys could only lock gazes with her a moment and nod. A smile was attempted in greeting, but seeing as this one whistled the smile did not grow to be much of anything. Rhys turned to rest her hip on the desk, arms crossed under her chest to continue her song about the bird that plucked it's feathers from it's head.
The voice of the angry tomb got louder, and even should she sing - which Rhys was not one to do since her voice was worse than her English recently - it would not cover the sound. So, instead she stopped and gave a heavy, agitated sigh. The voice paused then, making a chuckling that seemed to only irritate the teal haired woman even more. <'Why do you laugh now...'> she thought aloud to the bookshop's most recently bothersome pest.
There was no reply. Again, she asked and turned around to face the entrance as the little mouse spoke her name. In surprise that he would speak to her seeing as how he reacted to her before, Rhys smiled kindly and relaxed the tense shoulders she hadn't realized were stiffened. "Ahh~....si, signore? What can I help for?"
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 06-28-2015
"Do we?" he teased, allowing her to adjust him as she pleased. It was very domestic of her, and he wondered how quickly she might make herself at home if he allowed it. Rhys had done much the same. He could not tell if this was an unusual tendency, unique to these women, or if it was something he had somehow cultivated. Or if, alternately, this was the general way of things when one did not deliberately cultivate uncertainty and self-doubt. "Perhaps my self-esteem has suffered, for me to doubt it so. Would you stroke my ego, if it would help my confidence?"
Almost certainly yes. Though this was hardly the time, even if the place was suitable.
"We must hope that this does not signify unfortunate timing on the part of the… ah. What is the phrase?" He snapped his fingers as he grasped for the reference, a modern idiom turned more often on him. "Fashion police?" He frowned. No, that sounded terrible. He didn't think he'd be saying that again, ever. Maintaining one's dignity became ever harder as language evolved without any concern for it. By the time he adopted terminology now-modern, it would all be old-fashioned again. Dignity had not been fashionable for a century or two, alas. But being old-fashioned seemed to have a particular allure, when paired to a pretty face, so it did not trouble him too much.
Perhaps one day he would try being modern. Wearing very tight pants and bright colored socks and very short sleeves.
… or else, not. Never ever. Not ever. No. Ugh.
"We must simply risk it," he sighed, as if the state of his dress reflected on anyone but him. He followed her into the hall, then lead the way down the stairs, adopting a distracted manner as he approached the kitchen. As if he were not well aware that someone was there with Elijah. He raised an eyebrow at the phantom as he stood in the entry.
"Entertaining guests?" he asked, looking from one to the other. "But I fear we have not been introduced." The sight of her jogged his memory no better than the taste, lost in the disorganized vault of his mind.
Almost certainly yes. Though this was hardly the time, even if the place was suitable.
"We must hope that this does not signify unfortunate timing on the part of the… ah. What is the phrase?" He snapped his fingers as he grasped for the reference, a modern idiom turned more often on him. "Fashion police?" He frowned. No, that sounded terrible. He didn't think he'd be saying that again, ever. Maintaining one's dignity became ever harder as language evolved without any concern for it. By the time he adopted terminology now-modern, it would all be old-fashioned again. Dignity had not been fashionable for a century or two, alas. But being old-fashioned seemed to have a particular allure, when paired to a pretty face, so it did not trouble him too much.
Perhaps one day he would try being modern. Wearing very tight pants and bright colored socks and very short sleeves.
… or else, not. Never ever. Not ever. No. Ugh.
"We must simply risk it," he sighed, as if the state of his dress reflected on anyone but him. He followed her into the hall, then lead the way down the stairs, adopting a distracted manner as he approached the kitchen. As if he were not well aware that someone was there with Elijah. He raised an eyebrow at the phantom as he stood in the entry.
"Entertaining guests?" he asked, looking from one to the other. "But I fear we have not been introduced." The sight of her jogged his memory no better than the taste, lost in the disorganized vault of his mind.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 06-29-2015
Adelphie pouted. A brief jutting of her bottom lip as he only conceded to calling her miss. "I suppose it will have to do," she mused in a concession of her own. She did not have the abilities to know that Elijah had not quite meant what he'd said about it being a pleasure. Not that she needed them, regardless. Perhaps, he would find her a pleasure, if she bothered to let him get to know her. She knew it was unlikely, that he would be interested, as sad as that was. Too attached to the one they were calling Jean. That was something she did have the ability to smell on him.
The maenad liked the almost awkward way his hands disappeared into his pockets. She could only imagine her careless way of making herself at home was making him uncomfortable. Which meant that he was protective. Whatever for? So many new and interesting things for her to ponder, today.
Clear, blue orbs watched as he circled the island. Her own hands toyed, distractedly, at the length of her cane as his took place on the coffee mug. "Would you, now?" Her smile had gone from being merely pleasant, to strangely knowing. The expression could have been explained, had she had been able to continue the topic further. If she could have asked if there were things Elijah wouldn't do for Jean. There was little to stop her from attempting to delve further into this inexplicable relationship.
One of the things that could stop her, however, made his presence known in the setting of the kitchen. Instantly, she was grinning again - all fangs and general amusement.
René, as she once had called him, looked exactly as she remembered. Though, his hair was a touch shorter, and the fashion had changed over the centuries, his was not a face easily forgotten.
The same could not be said for hers, it seemed.
Appearances aside, he still smelled of mahogany, and sage. Of blood oranges and vanilla bourbon. So indulging and self-indulgent, that it was intoxicating.
She turned her head as Jean spoke, first to Elijah. When he addressed her, she'd already turned her attention to the kitten that followed closely behind him.
More curiosities, still.
A lilt of laughter that she cut off short, to look at him pointedly. "I knew it," she proclaimed, lifting her cane to point the handle in his direction. "There's only one fuckwit pretentious enough to go around calling himself Jean Cernunnos in a town like Valesport," her tone was a mixture of amusement and derision. "Sending back receipts in scrawling signatures; smelling like jasmine and sandalwood. I knew I'd find you again."
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 08-08-2015
“Naturally,” was his single word reply to her question of ‘Would you, now?’. It would likely do very little to sate her ever present curiosity, but Elijah didn’t much care if it didn’t help him sniff out just why she was here for Jean. And…. he could sense his master making his way downstairs… how unfortunate. He’d gleaned all that amounted to a pile of stale haggis. Unwilling to show his disappointment, he took a generous sip of his coffee just as the man entered with the kitten. Boredom suited him far more than disgust; perhaps as well as sated and pleased suited Jean.Electric magenta orbs lifted, long white lashes half lowered as he was addressed and took the two of them in. His eyes never touched on the kitten though. “Ah… but there is only so much of you to go around, is there not, Jean?” he said idly, tone indicating nothing but cool politeness. “Miss Adelphie Rhodes,” he quickly went on, one hand indicating to the woman just before she took it upon herself to loudly spout a series of nonsense that indicated that she did indeed know his master.
“Coffee?” he asked of the kitten, because really, ignoring her entirely would only cause more trouble. While he might not like her, not like much of anyone who pulled anguish and ache from his master, he liked disorder and conflict even less.
Lovely day for disarray, is it not? he thought, nearly amused by his own introspection—what he could not say unprovoked properly.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 08-08-2015
The name did nothing to jog his memory. Very few things did, these days. It was rather a problem, though he'd hardly be admitting it now. Oak, overwhelming oak, that was the consistent underlying taste of her, through the whiskey and wine and everything else. Oak barrels, burnt casks, the smell of roasting coffee but not the taste, the taste of tobacco but not the smell. Where had he known this before?
He was a touch taken aback when she spoke, and clearly they had met before. The familiarity in her tone was unmistakable. She was the first to have mentioned the unfortunate matter of his name.
He'd panicked. Mistakes had been made. There were worse names to have had. Not many, but some. Like Eustace.
"I would like to say that I could not possibly forget such a pretty face," he said, "but that would appear to be untrue. Have you, perhaps, gotten prettier since last I saw you?" He spread his palms in a show of helplessness, as if this were a reasonable suggestion. "We have established that I am very bad with names."
He was being cautious. Not because she claimed to know him, nor because she insulted him, but because the very specific way in which she had insulted him suggested more than a passing familiarity. It suggested that she knew him better than most, and that was a worrying prospect. Not many who knew him so well sought him out after their acquaintance had ended.
He was a touch taken aback when she spoke, and clearly they had met before. The familiarity in her tone was unmistakable. She was the first to have mentioned the unfortunate matter of his name.
He'd panicked. Mistakes had been made. There were worse names to have had. Not many, but some. Like Eustace.
"I would like to say that I could not possibly forget such a pretty face," he said, "but that would appear to be untrue. Have you, perhaps, gotten prettier since last I saw you?" He spread his palms in a show of helplessness, as if this were a reasonable suggestion. "We have established that I am very bad with names."
He was being cautious. Not because she claimed to know him, nor because she insulted him, but because the very specific way in which she had insulted him suggested more than a passing familiarity. It suggested that she knew him better than most, and that was a worrying prospect. Not many who knew him so well sought him out after their acquaintance had ended.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 08-09-2015
Adelphie went back to beaming as she was introduced. As she often did, appearing as if she'd not just insulted someone. She watched the trio carefully, because Jean did manage to attract the most interesting of playthings. A timid cat and an over-protective… something. She'd not decided yet. An uncomfortable rift between the two of them that was sharp with the scent of teakwood.
She noticed the way the cat's ears pinned back when Elijah addressed, and she wondered what had been done to her to garner such a reaction.
Rylan did her best not to cower. Elijah was, as always, attempting to be civil with her. She could at the very least reciprocate the gesture with some remnant of confidence. Her ears pushed forward, green eyes finally flickering upwards to meet magenta. She had not had the chance to enjoy her coffee from earlier; though she had been able to enjoy something better. "Yes, please. That would be lovely," she finally vocalized, louder than she could have been, but no louder than she needed to be. Rylan finally moved out of Jean's shadow and Adelphie found herself watching even as Jean spoke to her.
Silver furs and a collar were difficult to ignore. Adelphie's blue eyes darted to Jean's once more with a touch of surprise. If he had been the one to put a collar around her neck, he had drastically changed in a few hundred years.
"Oh, you are diplomatic as ever," she said. Unlike his offerings, hers were not a compliment. The maenad discontinued brandishing her cane in such an accusatory manner so she could press one index finger against her bottom lip. Eyes rolled upwards in thought, finger tapping against her mouth. "Perhaps, an anecdote? Hm? To jog that pretty little memory." This time her smirk resembled more of a sneer, a slight crinkling to her rounded nose.
"Once upon a time, my dear friend le marquis d'Ambert wagered me five Francs that he could convince a dashing, young duc de Canterly to be sodomized on horseback. Omitting details for length, the duke was appalled and in an unfortunate string of events the marquis was flung from horseback and suffered a broken neck." She paused for a dramatic sort of effect, though there'd really been no climax to speak of. She cocked her head, red curls shifting across white furs. "Perhaps, you've heard such a tale before?"
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 08-10-2015
A single ivory brow rose at The Cat’s response. It wasn’t what was said, but rather the briefly elevated tone. Even so, he gave no other indication that he was irked by her—not even when she brought her gaze up to catch his. Features smoothed, he turned with his own coffee in hand and made way towards the pot. Assuming she’d followed, he pulled another mug from the cabinet and went about making her some.“Cream? Milk? Sugar?” he asked gently as the steaming liquid fill the glass. It was easier to not dislike her when she wasn’t his master’s total focus, when Jean wasn’t busy agonizing and aching. But, it was also easier to not worry about her when he was far too busy focusing on the unfurling reunion.
If there was one thing he’d never quite grown tired of, it was listening to people speak while they went about feeling messy things all over the place. Veiled disgust while they smiled and laughed; tears and false sorrow while they felt joy and—likely—plotted; boredom while they visibly projected desire and lust—satisfaction. It was vastly entertaining and in many ways mildly annoying. Imagine if people actually said what was on their mind? Though, naturally, that would require everyone to do so; and no one ever really did for fear of being the only vulnerable being in a room.
Silly creatures… silly silly… Never mind the fact that it had been a very long time indeed and very few people between then and now where he’d done as much either. But, unfortunately, he’d been told that telling others unwarranted truths just simply wasn’t done.
As he waited for The Cat to respond he poured just enough into his own cup to warm it back up, still listening, still uncertain about where any of this was to go—and nonchalantly at that.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 08-10-2015
Any irritation he had begun to feel was lost in surprise. He froze, eyes widening slightly as cobwebs were cleared from a long-forgotten corner of his memory.
«It would have worked,» he exclaimed, and the surprise still lingering in his voice made it sound as if this were a revelation. «If the little idiot had not kept moving – if I had known he would be so bad at it, I would have had his sister, instead. He stole my favorite horse! Ran off to become a priest, never did figure out I was alive. My neck was crooked for a week until I jumped off a balcony.» Suddenly, he pointed an accusatory finger in her direction, and might well have pointed his cane if he'd had it at hand. «You still owe me those francs!» he said. «I convinced him, did I not? That I did not finish is hardly relevant.»
It had not been a deliberate switch to French, but it had been a very long time since he'd heard the title. And of course he recognized her now, though he did not recognize the name she was using any more than she had recognized his. Though her new name was much better. She'd even kept the part he cared about.
He almost didn't notice when Rylan left his side, Elijah being almost aggressively civil. Clearly, he was eavesdropping. There was no way to really avoid that, but it was still an irritant. He came closer to the redhead, something similar to discretion without actually being discreet at all. «Phee, you awful little cow, how did you even get to be in Valesport?» Fingers went to her furs, assessing, no regard at all for her personal space. «What are you wearing? Is it fashionable? I hate it.»
«It would have worked,» he exclaimed, and the surprise still lingering in his voice made it sound as if this were a revelation. «If the little idiot had not kept moving – if I had known he would be so bad at it, I would have had his sister, instead. He stole my favorite horse! Ran off to become a priest, never did figure out I was alive. My neck was crooked for a week until I jumped off a balcony.» Suddenly, he pointed an accusatory finger in her direction, and might well have pointed his cane if he'd had it at hand. «You still owe me those francs!» he said. «I convinced him, did I not? That I did not finish is hardly relevant.»
It had not been a deliberate switch to French, but it had been a very long time since he'd heard the title. And of course he recognized her now, though he did not recognize the name she was using any more than she had recognized his. Though her new name was much better. She'd even kept the part he cared about.
He almost didn't notice when Rylan left his side, Elijah being almost aggressively civil. Clearly, he was eavesdropping. There was no way to really avoid that, but it was still an irritant. He came closer to the redhead, something similar to discretion without actually being discreet at all. «Phee, you awful little cow, how did you even get to be in Valesport?» Fingers went to her furs, assessing, no regard at all for her personal space. «What are you wearing? Is it fashionable? I hate it.»
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 08-11-2015
She laughed in the face of his insistence, throwing back her head with the joviality of it. She pressed a hand to her chest as her chuckles died. «The poor boy thought he had killed you,» she began, switching languages as thoughtlessly as he. «I doubt he was concerned with returning your horse.» Her gleeful laughter erupted once more. Recalling the way he had looked when she had gone out to find him in the forest. Even then she had not been able to stop laughing at the utter failure of it all. The offended look she tried to portray as he pointed at her, would have been much more convincing if she'd not still been smiling. «Fine. I will cut you a check,» she conceded with an idle wave of her hand. «I still do not believe you convinced him at all, and that is why you were thrown from a horse.»
Her nose crinkled again at the sound of that awful nickname. Just hearing it stirred up memories of escapades that were better left forgotten, and she suddenly felt the need for a strong drink. «Business,» she explained, more disturbed by the nickname than the fact that he had also called her a cow. «I own a few of them. You know how I am.»
Ever the businesswoman with her hands in twenty things at one time. Up to her ears in investments large, small, and incredibly varied. She had never worked a day, herself, but she enjoyed watching other people do it. There was an array of chaos in capitalism, that she had never been able to resist.
With a scoff, she batted his hands away from her stole. Replacing his hands with her own she smoothed out the furs that he had disrupted. «No, you do not,» she replied, lifting her shoulders so the scarf was pushed against her face and she could nuzzle it almost affectionately with her cheek. «You love it, and you are just jealous.» There was a meaningful lift of her brow as she looked him over. «Which is no surprise, given the state of you. When did you start dressing your pets better than yourself?» She cocked her head, in a manner that was not at all subtle, in the direction of the second pair that occupied that kitchen.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 08-11-2015
The tilt of Elijah's brow pushed her ears back down against the crown of her head, and Rylan dropped her gaze from his. Her feigned confidence did not last as long as she had hoped, but as she walked away from Jean, she tried not to look back at him over her shoulder. She told herself that she did not need him to save her. Presently, she had no interest in eavesdropping, despite noticing the way the redheaded woman kept glancing her direction. Rylan's tail curled tight against the line of her spine as she settled next to where Elijah was preparing her coffee.
Rylan watched his hands, tracing the shimmering decorations upon them with her eyes, to avoid looking at his face. Not wanting to seem challenging if she locked gazes with him again. It was a feral reaction and typically not something that happened outside of her own kind. Most other beings preferred to be looked at when interacted with, but old habits were hard to break and all. One ear pushed forward, curiously, as she noticed the gentleness in his tone. "Cream," she replied, softly, placing her hands upon the counter to avoid twisting them nervously against her chest, or fidgeting with the ribbon upon her wrist. "And sugar. Please."
Her tail unfurled and swayed rhythmically behind her shoulder, as she lapsed back into silence. Rylan was not skilled at starting conversations; did not know if Elijah was interested in one. That was to say she could not speak when spoken to. She was currently the only one among them that could not read the emotions of the room, and she wasn't the type to go making assumptions. She did not feel the need to trigger Elijah's distaste for her, if she did not have to.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 08-11-2015
Ah… he thought as he set the coffee pot back down on its heating element… this was why he did not know The Loudmouth. She’d lingered in Jean’s life when Elijah had been absent and sweeping about the everdark for sustenance. That much was obvious from the tone of the conversation. Jean’s ruffled feathers aside, he was not much bothered on the whole. His master knew her, didn’t feel as though she was a threat, and thus the day returned to how it should have been. This—of course—did not mean it couldn’t still be reduced to utter chaos.His focus split to The Cat as she told him what she wanted in her coffee. She was a nervous little thing; by the feel of her he couldn’t decide if it was caused because she found him intimidating—as most people did—or, if she just didn’t enjoy anyone being put out by her presence.
He pulled over the containers and cream and sugar, opening his mouth to ask her next how much she wanted of each. However, when The Loudmouth blatantly referred to him as a pet, he stilled. Electrically pink hues appeared to almost flash as they narrowed. Involuntarily or a purpose—he wasn’t sure and wouldn’t be sure if asked later—the golden vinework of designs under his suit alit at the same time—burning almost, but unseen save for the barest hint along his visible wrists.
In his native tongue to Jean, he said in quite clipped and dark tones, «There is not much I object to—have not over the centuries as your paramour. But if you are to insist on keeping company with swine, then I would ask you control them better.
«I am not, nor will I ever be, a pet.» The word pet, however emphasized, would not be a word fully translated in his tongue. Thus, it was spoken in English. The other two occupants, who would likely not know a wit of what he’d said, would at least understand that even if it was not his intention.
With that, he shut his eyes and exhaled before turning to The Cat—who was much better company by comparison at that particular moment—and asked tightly, “How much of each, Ms. Rylan?”
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 08-12-2015
«He could have at least rearranged my corpse, then!» Jean insisted. «Just imagine if I had actually been dead! Found dead in the woods with my cock hanging out! He said he loved me, the cad, and he ran off with my horse and left me there for any passing necrophile to have.» As always, Jean ignored the part where he had not loved him at all and had not even done the man the courtesy of lying about it. It was hard to say whether Jean would have bothered rearranging someone else's corpse to preserve their dignity. More likely he would have just set them on fire for the sake of ease. It did not occur to him to be grateful that he had not been set on fire.
«He was very enthusiastic,» Jean continued, «until it came to the practicalities of it. One would have thought he could accommodate the whole of Versailles, from the way he talked. I knew he was lying, of course, but I never imagined how badly.»
Really, if she didn't want to be called Phee – and he could taste that she didn't – she should have chosen a different name. Of all the things he called her, it was probably the least offensive, but one wouldn't know that to look at her. He could call her all manner of vile things and she'd rarely look anything but proud, but pet names were beyond the pale. «So mercantile,» he said with a click of his tongue, as if it were still shameful to work rather than idly possess wealth. As if it had ever been, really. As if what she did could ever have been called work. And of course this neglected his current position, not that it could be called working as he did it. Hadn't there been a customer up front? Wasn't there, still? One wouldn't know it to look at him.
«I hate it,» he repeated. «When have I ever worn furs? Barbaric.» It was not a moral judgment, but a literal one. Fur was for people who killed their own clothes, and he would not be convinced otherwise. «I,» he said, holding a hand to his chest, «was in the middle of getting dressed when I was rudely interrupted by someone barging into my kitchen.»
«T͡e̛͘m͘ṕ͘e͞ŕ̢,͘҉ ̷t̵̢̡e͏̶m͏̀p͏̧͠e͠r̀͢,» he said gently to the other man, for she could not have known that it would be a sore spot. «I̷ ͠a͏̧͘s͘͞͝s̢u̵re͜ ̀͡͞y͟o͞u͜ ̴t̷̕h͞a̡t͞ s̛h̕͞҉e ̷̕i̕ş ͠d̴̢͜e҉li̛g̢͘ht̛͝f̕u̕͜l̸̨,͘ ̨t̵̨h̀͘͠ǫų͏gh ͝I͠҉͡ ̶͏̧c̨͘ann͝ot̀͢ ͢c̸̨͝o͘n̵͜t́͠r̶o҉͘l h̴̶e̷r͟͞ ͘͜a̛҉̛n̸͡y̷̶ ́͢b͝e͝t̵͜t̸er ͡͡t̢́h͡a͡n͢͟ ̀͞Ì̧ ̡͢c̨̢a͝ǹ̷͝ ̀c̡͝on̴tr̶̀òl̵ ỳ͝ơu.̵͠» This was not entirely accurate, because he would have much better luck keeping Elijah in check than Adelphie. In fact, he was doing so right then.
«And you of all people,» he continued, as if he had not been speaking in tongues not intended for tongues, «should know that I have never made a habit of putting clothes on anyone.»
«He was very enthusiastic,» Jean continued, «until it came to the practicalities of it. One would have thought he could accommodate the whole of Versailles, from the way he talked. I knew he was lying, of course, but I never imagined how badly.»
Really, if she didn't want to be called Phee – and he could taste that she didn't – she should have chosen a different name. Of all the things he called her, it was probably the least offensive, but one wouldn't know that to look at her. He could call her all manner of vile things and she'd rarely look anything but proud, but pet names were beyond the pale. «So mercantile,» he said with a click of his tongue, as if it were still shameful to work rather than idly possess wealth. As if it had ever been, really. As if what she did could ever have been called work. And of course this neglected his current position, not that it could be called working as he did it. Hadn't there been a customer up front? Wasn't there, still? One wouldn't know it to look at him.
«I hate it,» he repeated. «When have I ever worn furs? Barbaric.» It was not a moral judgment, but a literal one. Fur was for people who killed their own clothes, and he would not be convinced otherwise. «I,» he said, holding a hand to his chest, «was in the middle of getting dressed when I was rudely interrupted by someone barging into my kitchen.»
«T͡e̛͘m͘ṕ͘e͞ŕ̢,͘҉ ̷t̵̢̡e͏̶m͏̀p͏̧͠e͠r̀͢,» he said gently to the other man, for she could not have known that it would be a sore spot. «I̷ ͠a͏̧͘s͘͞͝s̢u̵re͜ ̀͡͞y͟o͞u͜ ̴t̷̕h͞a̡t͞ s̛h̕͞҉e ̷̕i̕ş ͠d̴̢͜e҉li̛g̢͘ht̛͝f̕u̕͜l̸̨,͘ ̨t̵̨h̀͘͠ǫų͏gh ͝I͠҉͡ ̶͏̧c̨͘ann͝ot̀͢ ͢c̸̨͝o͘n̵͜t́͠r̶o҉͘l h̴̶e̷r͟͞ ͘͜a̛҉̛n̸͡y̷̶ ́͢b͝e͝t̵͜t̸er ͡͡t̢́h͡a͡n͢͟ ̀͞Ì̧ ̡͢c̨̢a͝ǹ̷͝ ̀c̡͝on̴tr̶̀òl̵ ỳ͝ơu.̵͠» This was not entirely accurate, because he would have much better luck keeping Elijah in check than Adelphie. In fact, he was doing so right then.
«And you of all people,» he continued, as if he had not been speaking in tongues not intended for tongues, «should know that I have never made a habit of putting clothes on anyone.»
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 08-12-2015
Rylan noticed the way Elijah stilled, perturbed by something in the conversation she was only listening to by proxy. As she looked up she caught the shimmer in his eyes, and her tail stopped it's gentle motions. She turned slightly to look back at Jean and Adelphie. Thinking on it, it was probably the way that the woman had called them pets. The cat could think of worse things to be called in a situation such as this. So, if the redhead had been trying to get a rise out of them, at least she wouldn't be disappointed by Elijah.
Elijah spoke first, and the men began to talk amongst themselves. Though Rylan did not know the words, if they could even be called that, she knew she did not like the sound of them. A cadence that was impossible to comprehend, a tonality that should not have been able to be conveyed with vocal cords. Without thinking, she lifted her hands and pushed them against her ears. Folding them against her hair. The gesture would do nothing to truly block the sound of it, would only muffle a ringing pitch that set the fur of her tail on end.
She did not know why she was so bothered by it; didn't know if the pestering sounds she was hearing were truly there or mostly in her imagination.
The demon clawed at Rylan's mind like a caged animal. It did not like the sounds of the words either, but for entirely different reasons. It recognized those terribly inhuman resonations. Older than itself, older than even time. Rylan could feel it's swell of anger, and … fear, before it subsided entirely. Drawing it's presence, quietly, back into the recesses of her subconscious.
There was a pause after Jean's response, and Rylan dropped her hands. Ears sprang forth, twitching as if they were displeased with the abuse. As Jean when back to addressing his company, and Elijah spoke normally to her, she looked back to him. She briefly pulled her bottom lip between elongated canines. "I can do it," she said, quietly, instead of actually answering. She felt bad enough that he was going through the trouble for her anyway. She pulled the sugar closer. "Thank you, though."
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 08-12-2015
She scoffed when he claimed the man had loved him. They would have all said they loved him, if it would have given them the opportunity to be with him. And in the end not a single one of them would ever have anything to show for it. «Perhaps he'd decided to leave you in death as one would often find you in life. With your cock out. A stunning tribute if you really think about it.» She could hardly get the last of the words out, still too busy giggling. It would not have been so funny were he not still so bitter about it. «Oh, and here I thought you had feared for your dignity. Not for the chance necrophile wandering the woods at night. Stalking for corpses that just happen to have their genitalia out for the taking.»
Adelphie rolled her eyes, tugging at her gloves as she presented him with an expression that implied he should have known better. «I will compound interest upon your winnings, and then you can buy a dozen new horses and go about convincing someone new to let you do filthy things upon them. Perhaps, that will finally soothe your wounded ego?»
She never bothered to try and talk him out of the sobriquet. Wasted words that would fall on deaf ears, and she preferred to use her time and her mouth for more important things. That did not, however, stop her from behaving as if he had called her something terrible. «Yes, I am,» she agreed, ignoring the click of his tongue. Ignoring the potential that he could have been teasing her. «You would think in all that time you spent with me you would have learned something about running a business.» She held up both hands to either side, in a gesticulation that was both a flourish and a shrug; gesturing to the bookstore he claimed to be running.
«I did not barge,» she defended, unclasping the furs the he continued to scowl at. She pulled them from her shoulders, and set them on the empty stool next to her. Hands smoothed over her blazer. «I was merely a customer looking for assistance. All in all I was very polite about it. If you were not such a terrible businessmen I would not have to have been back here.»
She was silenced as Elijah spoke. The words immediately set her teeth on edge, but the only indication she was bothered was the way her jaw clenched. She kept her gaze on Jean, brows raised as she listened to what sounded like a scolding. As Jean replied, she sighed. If they were going to keep on like this she really would need a drink. It was bad enough not knowing what they were saying. Several millennia of languages at her disposal only to be left out of the loop was a bit frustrating.
«My apologies Elijah, dear,» she said when she was able. Only assuming that her comment had been the thing to annoy him so. All burning cedar. She didn’t bother to discontinue speaking French, since he apparently had no trouble understanding her. She looked at him over her shoulder; ever-smiling. «I did not mean to offend.» In which, she was being quite honest. There were only so many ways to turn a phrase to refer to the way Jean collected people, and not quite people, for his own amusement. In retrospect she could see why someone would be offended by the term, if they thought themselves to be something more. A thoughtful noise sounded in her throat, as she leaned forward to set her cane upon the floor, leaning it against the island. Pulling her bag closer, she reached within it to extract a bottle of wine.
Over-sized purses were good for some many things.
«I suppose that is true,» she replied, nodding as she peeled the silver paper away from the bottle's cork. «I will admit I was surprised to find everyone wearing them. Especially that darling kitten of yours. Seems like such a waste. I assume you have something I can open this with,» she gestured with the bottle. «Or have you given up on everything fun?»
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 08-14-2015
The phantom of a man wasn’t wholly surprised by Jean’s response to his ‘temper’. That particular assessment of his person, his attitude, did not bother the apparition when he knew it to be entirely accurate. He did snort, however, at the word ‘delightful’.«Because she is doing so well at making you feel delighted at present, Sweets.» He didn’t much care right then that his tongue hurt anyone’s ears, laden with sarcasm and bite. Not when he was so put out—granted nerves and all. He liked being called a pet as well as Jean liked being called master.
When The Cat’s head-guest scratched and scurried the walls in fear, metaphorical and all, he didn’t make any indication of it outwardly. But the nervous energy was noted—a fear that was not her own. Some dark part of him was pleased at that; pleased that he could still make something tremble with his voice alone after all this time. That likely had more to do with his current mood than anything else--as if he needed to be sated by something in retaliation.
Even so, he forced his features to be smooth again—calmed—as he redirected his attention to her once more. “Are you quite sure?” he asked as he glanced at her, one brow rising as fingers brushed when she took the sugar.
Perhaps she just needed to do something—keep herself busy. He let her, ignoring guest protocol; especially when Miss Rhodes started speaking to him. Apologizing, of all things—honestly. Not mere words, but real feelings behind them that backed up her statements.
He made a noise in the back of his throat; not quite a cough and not quite a sound. Something miffed and disbelieving. Which made no sense as he could sense her earnest feelings.
In English he said, simply because he actually preferred it or his own over most others, “Noted, Miss Rhodes.” He was not, nor would he ever be, a kept creature. It might look that way from the outside surely, but he was never around because he had to be. He chose to be, would be, until Jean ejected him or he had to eat again.
Then again… there was a fairly good chance that Jean did indeed tell him to go that he likely wouldn’t.