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Roman Candles and Chinese Lanterns [Hellvion Ball]

Started by kleineklementine, June 03, 2014, 10:54:51 AM

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kleineklementine

The Gardens and Veranda
A wide-open veranda lit with Chinese lanterns, and an expansive garden full of dark little corners.


Image source here.

This thread is part of the Hellvion Spring Ball. Plotting info can be found here! This even is open to Connlaothian nobles only. Please post in the plotting thread before jumping in.



kleineklementine

[Entrance from the Grand Hall]

Constance Carwick stepped silently into the lantern-lit gardens outside the main hall. The night was still relatively warm compared to the long winter, but a chill clung to her. The newly-gained knowledge of the fate of her family still had her head spinning. Glancing around to see that the gardens were, still fairly early in the ball, mostly empty, Olive left the main, lantern-lit stone terrace and sunk onto a stone bench surrounded in a half moon of deep green pines.

Her head in her hands, she felt her breath rise and fall slowly. Avery. Caspian. Her mother. The entire line of Wulbauer's rulers... all dead. Her family, all dead. They had already been lost to her, she knew, but... Somewhere in the back of her head, she had always held ont the fantasy of reconciliation. One day. That was all gone now.

Away from the light of the lanterns, alone in the night in a soft blue gown, Constance was almost invisible in the dim garden. Only her honey-gold hair shown in the flickering lantern light.

Alegretto

[Entrance from the Grand Hall]

As Dwight stepped into the faintly lit gardens, he looked about him. He thought he was alone for a moment before he noticed someone in a particularly dark spot. A girl, by the looks of her hair, though he couldn't make out many more detail. He was about to dismiss it, when something about the color of the hair struck him. There was no way, it just wasn't possible! It was probably just the light messing with him, but what if...

He approached the girl, and tentatively called out: "Forgive me if I'm wrong but is that you Oli-, ah, eh, I mean Constance. Is that you Constance?" If he was wrong, it wouldn't do to call a lady, even on accident, with a name like Olive.

kleineklementine

OOC: FYI, Dwight would almost definitely have heard that Constance was sent to the camps 5 years ago. I imagine that kind of gossip gets everywhere. ;) Now the rumors are mostly that she's dead, but a few that she broke out in one of the uprisings.




"Is that you Constance?"

Constance Carwick had been looking at the stone beneath her feet, lost in memories of her mother. Of Cass and Avery and her father. She hadn't been paying attention to who was coming and going. An idiot's mistake, because without her even realizing someone was coming, someone called her by name. Her name.

She stiffened, but she was already answering as she looked up, forcing herself to use the sweet and friendly voice of Bryony, "No, no sorry, you're mistaken. Constance was my cousin. I'm - "

But the words froze on her lips when her eyes finally raised to meet the man in question. Olive hadn't counted on anyone she actually knew being here. (Except perhaps the Rastognlirs, but that was a risk she'd decided to take). All of her friends from university were, well... there was no way to say it other than, 'Below Melora's standards.' But there was no denying it. The man standing front of her was Dwight Ardice.

Recognition was clear on her face, but she finished her lie anyway. Perhaps for the benefit of anyone else that might be listening. "I'm Bryony Carwick."

But her eyes said, Yes, it's me. And also, perhaps, warned against using the name 'Constance' again.

Alegretto

Dwight was frozen with shock for a moment before he could compose a response. He realized that the pair was on dangerous ground right now, and he decided to choose his words carefully. "Of course Miss Carwick, I must apologize for the mistake. I don't know what came over me, there's absolutely no way that Constance could be here." He said the last few words with a nervous chuckle, and he used the motion to surreptitiously look around to make sure there was no one else close by.

He didn't see anyone, and he was pretty sure he'd notice someone close by even in the dim light. Once he was positive they were effectively alone, he leaned in close to Olive and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Olive I've heard the oddest rumors over the last couple of years. First people were saying that you got shipped off, and more recently I've heard that you're dead. Am I seeing ghosts? What is going on here? And why are you impersonating your cousin? Where's the real Bryony? Why are you eve-?

With a start, he realized that he was asking too many questions for Olive to effectively answer, and that his voice was getting progressively louder. He cleared his throat softly. "Sorry, I'm just in shock right now.  I don't even know what question I really want to hear the answer to, or if I even want answers to any of them."

kleineklementine

Olive's face tightened as Dwight's voice grew louder with one question after the other. If her safety were her principal priority, Olive would begin to think that coming here was a mistake. Perhaps she'd underestimated the risk, thinking that after five years in the camps and on the run - and for most of the people here, she'd effectively 'disappeared from society' the day she'd been Marked, not years later when she'd been sent to the camps - that there would be no one who would recognize her. But her expression relaxed a little when he suddenly caught himself, lowered his voice again, and apologized.

Glancing just once over his shoulder, Olive's green eyes studied Dwight's features carefully, as though she were making some decision about him: To trust him, maybe, or perhaps trying to decide if she was the one 'seeing a ghost.' It had been years since she'd seen anyone from her Old Life, not since the ordeal with Mercuxio Ragstonlir, and the feeling was unsettling. After a moment, though, she answered him, at least in part.

"Not all of those are rumors," she said, her voice level as her eyes continued to study him. Should she trust him, or how much she should trust him, remained unclear to her. Dwight had been her friend, it was true, and part of her heart leapt to see him now. And though they had been at university together, they had met through the Church; he hadn't been one of the somewhat rambunctious, irreverent crowd she'd normally stayed with. And that connection gave her pause now. The Church, which had once been a source of solace for her, was now the last thing Constance Carwick trusted. But Dwight had been her friend all the same, and in some respects she'd been closer to him than most of her university friends.

"Bryony never got the invitation," she continued, not saying how she had. Olive glanced over his shoulder again towards the paper lantern-lit entrance to the ball. She knew she would have to tell him more, but what? Part of her wanted to throw herself at him and embrace him, an old friend being a luxury she hadn't had in a long time, and tell him everything. But she knew she couldn't do that, either. Instead she gave a small shrug and a helpless half-smile. "The rest is kind of a long story."

Alegretto

The way that Olive said "A long story" confirmed something for Dwight. "You know what, I don't think I want to hear the rest of it," he told her. "It sounds, ah, like something that maybe I shouldn't pry into." He stood thinking for a moment. "Perhaps instead we could discuss something else. Maybe, uh, well," he thought for a bit longer.

What could they talk about? Not her family, that was for sure. Definitely not the war, or anything to do with mages. What was she doing here? No, really best not to wonder about that.

"Wow," he said after a moment longer. "I've got nothing. Back at the University it seemed like there was always something to say, always something to discuss, but now I've got nothing. What happened to those times?"

kleineklementine

“The war happened.”

Olive’s half-smile was replaced by a quiet sadness when she answered Dwight’s rhetorical question. She barely even remembered those times anymore. And thinking of them now was like thinking of someone else’s life. But the disarming niceness of Dwight, the same he’d had then, brought those years at the university swimming into focus. And, as she looked at Dwight, she made a decision.

Exhaling a little sigh, Olive got up from the stone bench and took Dwight’s hand, moving with a sudden decisiveness. Glancing again back at the entrance to the ball, she led Dwight away from it, down a narrow, shrub-lined and maze-like path in the garden. “I hope,” she told him, forcing another half-smile as she led him further into the shadows of the garden, “that your reputation won’t be too tarnished by disappearing with a lady for a little bit.” Suddenly it occurred to Olive that, by now, Dwight could even be married. “You won’t get in trouble with your wife?”

Despite her gestures towards his reputation (and, she supposed, Bryony’s), Olive continued to lead him away into the garden until the narrow, maze-like path opened up into a little, flower-strewn clearing. There she released his hand and turned to face him. Olive could feel her heart beating loudly, though she wasn’t sure why exactly. Was it that she feared he would betray her? Or did she fear he might reject her now, or…? She didn’t know. But she’d decided to answer at least some of his questions.

“I was sent away,” she told him, launching directly into her story. Perhaps she was worried she would lose her nerve. “While I was under house arrest in Uthlyn, an Adhara came for me. I didn’t really believe that the camps existed then. I expected she’d just remove me from the city and kill me in the wilderness and that would be that. I didn’t even try to get away… For lots of reasons, I guess. I suppose I didn’t know what else to do, and I knew that going with her, to whatever end, was what I was expected to do. But I was wrong anyway. I was sent… I spent two years in the camps, I think. Maybe a little longer.” The short summary of those years felt odd to Olive. But how could she explain now the multitude they contained? “I won’t bother you with a description of those years,” she simply said, a little numbly. “But there was an uprising in the second camp I was sent to. Many people died in it, and more mages than soldiers, but I escaped. Since then I’ve been on the run, living in the wilderness with a few others who escaped. Trying to keep ahead of capture and a return to the camps.”

Olive’s green eyes strayed from Dwight, looking sideways into the darkness. What should she say now? She couldn’t tell him the truth, even if she wanted to. Her responsibilities weren’t just to herself anymore. After a long moment, she let out a ragged exhale and continued in half-truths.

“It’s been… difficult. But I knew that my father would never break ranks with Calent on the war, even if it was to help me, so I didn’t have any other choice. When I heard that, that he’d been assassinated, though,” Olive’s voice caught, and her eyes were fixed firmly on the ground now. Apart from all else, the emotion in her voice now was entirely true, “I thought that Avery might be different. I hoped that he would shelter me, but I didn’t know how to contact him. When I found out about this ball, well, I thought surely he would be invited, if he was Duke now, and I could plead my case. I didn’t know…” She broke off, silent for several long moments, before she concluded quietly, “I only just heard.”

Alegretto

He let out a bitter chuckle at Olive's remark about his reputation as she dragged him down the garden path. "I have no reputation to tarnish and no wife to get in trouble with. Lead on Olive, lead on."

He followed the young woman to the clearing, where he stood and listened intently as Olive unfolded her story. He did his best to keep his face neutral, but it was difficult to keep his eyes from widening in surprise at elements of the tale. Finally, unmasked pity covered his features when she finally reached the point where she discussed her cousin's untimely demise.

"I don't, I don't know what to say Olive. This is, a lot to take in." How was he supposed to deal with this. All this information, these painful things, and on top of that his own problems. He couldn't help Olive and himself in this situation...

And at that his thoughts froze for a moment. Had that really just passed through his mind? After hearing that story, was he really classifying his problems at the same level of those of his dear friend? Was he thinking of ways to help himself when he clearly was the one far better off?

The nobleman suddenly felt sick to his stomach. How long had he been thinking like this? Considering his needs over others so readily? He hadn't been like this at University, he was sure. Being with Olive was reminding him already of who he had used to be, and suddenly his behavior over the past few weeks, the way he treated servants and family friends disgusted him.

Suddenly, impulsively, he hugged Olive. "I'm sorry Olive, I lied. I do know what to say. I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm sorry for what you've been through. I'm here, if you need anything, I'm here to help."

kleineklementine

When Olive finished her story, her mostly true story, the blatant pity on Dwight's face was obvious. Olive stiffened and her eyes flashed. A fierceness suddenly shone on her face. She did not, in that moment, look like an exhausted and beleaguered girl come to beg sanctuary from her remaining family. Yet she also didn't resemble the fun-loving and irreverent girl from the university. There was something hard and dangerous and determined in her look.

"I don't want your pity, Dwight," she told him, her voice low and flat and firm. "And I don't deserve it. I'm one of the fortunate few. I have my life, and my freedom. Very few have both. And many have neither."

In that moment, Olive saw red. She saw the ten year old boy who had thrown a stone at a guard, saw his brains splattered against the the dirty white walls of the camp, silencing his frightened sobs. She saw it like she was there again. Angry and helpless and terrified. But she wasn't helpless anymore. Then she remembered why she was here. And she saw Dwight before her again. Looking unhappy and uncertain in the soft light of the night. And her rigid posture relaxed, her fierce expression softened.

Here was Dwight, a man who had once been a friend to a girl she feared she no longer was.

And when he pulled her into a hug, at first Olive resisted. But only for a moment. Half a moment, before she melted into him and held on. Tears were stinging her eyes and then without realizing it, Olive was crying. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd let herself cry. Or even that she'd wanted to cry. But she did now. For everything she'd told Dwight about, and mostly for everything she'd spared him: the camps and everything that happened there; and also for her parents, her family, and the life that Dwight's presence reminded her she'd had, and would never have again.

She didn't know how long she'd cried, but finally Olive pulled herself together. She pushed herself away from Dwight, wiping away the wetness from her face. Even then, she had to give a small, shaky laugh at his offer. "You should probably take that back, Dwight," she told him, trying to put a humorous tone in her voice, but mostly failing. "You don't want to make any promises you might not be able to keep."

Alegretto

Dwight held Olive close as she wept, both surprised and concerned. He'd never known his friend to break down, and her tears now made him worry. When she finally pushed herself away, Dwight had to work hard to keep his concern from his face. He didn't want Olive thinking that he was pitying her again.

Her words gave Dwight momentary pause, but the nobleman was a man of his word, not to mention that he really wanted to keep this promise. It would be a start, a road back to the man he had been once. He laughed a little bit, though it was obviously not real, "I can keep this one promise Olive. I have to... for a... personal reason. You can trust me on this, my word is good."

kleineklementine

Olive wiped the wetness from her face, a mixture of embarrassment and anger at herself turning over in her stomach. What was she doing crying? Dwight reminded her of a life she'd had once, a life when her family was not dead, a life where she'd had little care beyond university courses and the nasty looks you got when you wore the Mark. But that life was long gone, and what right did she have to mourn it? Olive had, she knew, been lucky beyond reason; if you could call it 'luck' when it just came from the circumstances of your birth. Who your parents were, or weren't.

Again, her memory flashed to the cold, wet day in the camp, when they blew through that boy's brain, splattering it red and gray against the barracks wall. Had she been someone else, had she not been Duke Carwick's daughter, that would have been her fate. If she'd have been as brave at all, without her title...

And the thought clenched her churning stomach with resolve. She wasn't here to revisit her old life. She wasn't here to weep for herself, or for her family. Constance Carwick was here with a mission. She couldn't forget that. And so she frowned at Dwight's renewed, firmer offer. "I hope you don't come to regret that."

Alegretto

Dwight returned her frown with a look of slight concern. He banished the expression quickly though, and replaced it with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'd regret not helping even more," He responded. The young nobleman nodded slightly to himself, reaffirming his resolution in his own mind.

After a few more moments, Dwight looked around the garden thoughtfully, almost expecting something to happen. "So, um... what now?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, do you need some kind of help now, or should I head back to the main hall, or, oh... I don't know. This is going to sound strange, but I guess I half-expected something to suddenly happen. It feels like I'm a part of some conspiracy or something..."

((OOC: Sorry for the awkward post, I don't really know what to do here :()))

kleineklementine

"I'd regret not helping even more."

How long would Dwight feel that way, Olive wondered. What would he regret by the end of the night? And then, when Dwight asked 'what now?', what was going to happen, and should he do something to help her, and that he felt like part of a conspiracy, Olive frowned. If she let him get too close, if she slipped and let herself divulge too much to him because of their old friendship, he would be part of a conspiracy.

But wasn't that why she was here? Because all of these nobles, all of these people who could do something, who had power to take action... Because they weren't, they wouldn't? In attendance at this ball were the few people who could do something. To end the slaughter of mages. To end the senselessness of the war. Who could stand up the Grand Duke, withdraw the support of their armies. And they weren't.

She wondered what Dwight did. Or didn't do. And why she should hold him to another measure than anyone else. But still...

Instead of directly answering him, Olive gave another laugh, a bit less shaky, and shook her head. "I really know how to lift the mood at a party, don't I? And I haven't heard anything about how you've been." And what, Olive thought, you've been doing. Where your allegiances have fallen. She was testing the waters. "Have you managed to stay in the library, and off the battlefield?"

Alegretto

Dwight chuckled a bit at her question. "I haven't seen a library or a battlefield in years. I've been mostly trying to keep my family's estate afloat. It's a full time job. Especially with this senseless war going on. There's no way I can provide for my tenants." He paused for a bit, as if thinking. "Guess it's not all bad though, no one's tried to claim my family's land since their soldiers are tied up in the Grand Duke's army."

His eyes grew distant as he thought of all the problems waiting for him back home. "I just wish the taxes I paid weren't being spent on weapons and on the killing of Connlaoth's own people. I could be using that money to feed the people who rely on me." The nobleman sighed heavily. " I guess I'm pretty bad for the mood as well. Sorry, I didn't mean to rant like that."

kleineklementine

"Then don't pay them. Feed your people," Olive answered him, her eyes fixed on him. She was letting her guard drop a bit, and a flash of genuine anger shown through the veneer of polite ball etiquette that had been coating their interaction thus far. "If people like you, people with power, don't do anything - who can?"

Of course, the implication of what Dwight was saying was not lost on Olive. His people were his responsibility. So his father, his brother... Consumed, she assumed, by the war. Like everyone's fathers, everyone's brothers and sons and lovers.

"I'm serious," she added after a moment, expecting Dwight might doubt her. "What's the worst that can happen? The Grand Duke sends his soldiers to come kill your people?" She audibly huffed. She knew she was treading on thin ice now. This corner of the garden might feel private, but it wasn't really/ And who knew what Dwight himself would. "He's already killing your people, Dwight. His people, even if he can't see them that way anymore. Maybe if the lords stopped filling his war chest, he'd have to think twice about how long he can keep it up."

Alegretto

Olive's words were seditious, but they weren't anything that Dwight himself hadn't thought before, in some of his angrier moments.

In response to her suggestions, the nobleman shook his head sadly. "If only I could stop paying Olive. It's not the grand duke I'm worried about when I pay my taxes, it's the Lords who hold land around mine. Not paying your taxes is giving them free reign to start taking chunks of your land that they can pay the crown for."

Dwight paced angrily a few steps around their small corner of the garden before addressing Constance again. "I wish I had the power to make the change you want Olive, I really do. To feed the people who need it and stop the senseless killing, but I'm just one more minor noble trying to hold onto my land. We're a dime a dozen in this country, and it's all to easy for one of the bigger families to swallow us up as if we're nothing."

kleineklementine

“If not you, then who?” Olive asked, countering Dwight’s words before she really had the time to think through whether or not she should still be talking at all. Realizing this, she lowered her voice before continuing, her brow knit, “If the lords of this country have no power to end this travesty, then who does? No one? We’re just stuck in a shit storm of killing and rape and hunger until we’re all fucking dead?”

Olive stepped into Dwight’s path as he paced the garden so he would have to pull up short right in front of her. Her green eyes looked fiercely up at Dwight, her expression hard.

“What are you afraid of risking? Your claim to your land? If your people are already being sent to war, or have already been dragged off to rot in camps, if you already can’t feed them… If you can't protect or provide for them, then you already are nothing. So what? What are you going to lose? Some land, your title? Who the fuck cares, Dwight? Compared to what many have been forced to sacrifice, without any choice, it’s… it’s…”

She stopped her indictment short with a ’pah’ of frustration and turned to look away from Dwight, but didn’t move from his space. Olive knew that she was out of line. Or, at least, that under the old rules she was. Times had changed. Children were torn from their families, beaten and starved to death, people were being systematically killed in the camps as part of wild experimentation by the church, the land was being fed with the blood of poor young men who’d been given no choice but to join the army. Did the old rules still apply?

Without thinking about it, Olive was looking less and less like the scared, run-down outcast come to beg the mercy of her family.

Alegretto

Dwight was taken aback, both at the invasion of his personal space and at Olive's harsh words. He'd never known her to...

But could he say he knew her now? It was clear that Olive was a different person than she had been before. A stronger one, and an angrier one. Suddenly, Dwight felt left behind, as if Olive had moved on to some place beyond him. Into some world he couldn't comprehend. He felt angry, upset that she was making him feel so futile and so useless.

Looking at his feet, Dwight muttered, "I don't understand." He waited a moment before looking up at Olive's back. "I don't understand," he repeated again louder. "I don't understand what you've been through Olive, and I can't even pretend to sympathize. That would just be pity and you've made your position clear on that."

He waited a moment, composing himself and then lowering his voice, "But I don't know if you understand the position I'm in. I could risk everything, my few people, my meager land, and my petty title. I could put everything on the line and I guarantee you it would be for nothing. Maybe it makes me a coward, but I'm not prepared to sacrifice everything that I am for nothing. If you could show me Olive, show me that my effort could create some change, then maybe. But I guess... I guess I'm too weak for what you're asking for."

He looked down again, before speaking once more, "Still, I said I'd help you. I don't know what your exact objective here is Olive, but when you need me, let me know." And with that, Dwight walked away, back towards the ball room, thoughts whirring inside his head.

kleineklementine

If Dwight hadn't left then, Olive might have hit him. Instead she watched him go while a torrent of conflicting emotions clashed inside of her.

Anger at Dwight for trying to 'make her understand' what he would lose. She, she wanted to yell at him, had lost everything. She hadn't even remembered how much before seeing him again. And she would never complain, because she'd regained some things: her freedom, though a more restricted freedom than Dwight or any of the nobles here enjoyed, and a sense of purpose. And her life. Olive wanted to run after him, grab him, describe to him in every detail every senseless death she'd witnessed. Children, old men and women, young men and women; beaten or starved or made sport of.

And regret, because she was also angry at herself. For snapping at him, for driving him away. For no longer being the girl he remembered. For turning into something she could tell he didn't recognize.

And a creeping sadness. Because it seemed to her now that no bridges would survive this war. Between mages and non-mages, common and noble, between old friends... they were all burning. And what would be left of the country in the end.

Her heart heavy, but her blood burning, Olive realized that she had been standing alone in the garden for several minutes. Collecting herself, she headed back to the ball, uncertain whether or not she should try to find Dwight again. Whether she should warn him, or... She had no idea. [Olive continues here.]

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