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Old 05-21-2011, 12:23 PM   #272
Anguirel
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Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: The 1590s
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None other than the fraudulent kidnapper of Asta's speculation, dapper little Sador of Burlach, was in fact by this time comfortably settled lengthways on a chaise-longue in the fine and fashionable mansion of his elder brother. A wide pair of Fornost windows had been cast open to let the breeze ventilate properly, which was quite necessary as both brothers, contrary to their father's habits and, had he been there, to his certain disapproval, were smoking pipes full of the herb of Eriador. They were not exactly each other's preferred company, and the presence of the three women was in truth a great relief; the silent Lady Ecsichil in her peculiar sectary full body gauze veil, lolling like her husband and brother-in-law but partaking neither of smoke nor speech; golden Circilie roaming about the room, making emendations and conversation; Gloredhel sitting straight and supple in a chair more aesthetic than comfortable, by her own preference.

"You sent Aerwen to go and catch this new player acquaintance of yours?" Ecsichil was asking, not for the first time. Unlike his wife, he did possess the apparent faculty of speech, though he avoided any topics of dangerous freshness. Sador sometimes, at moments such as this, found his brother surprisingly restful to be around after all. Ecsichil was an unsympathetic boor, and his existence, combined with his wife's predictable efficiency at producing straight, soldierly young sons, ensured that Sador would never inherit a scrap of land or a substantive rank; but, on the other hand, the elder son of Burlach did tend to emphasise by his style of 'thought' and behaviour the unusual wit and aptitude of the younger one.

"I didn't send her," Sador answered languidly, "father wouldn't like me arbitrarily to interrupt my elder sister's education on a whim about the theatre, would he now? But I told her my friend would be waiting, asked her if she was interested, and she expressed herself positively."

"Alright," Ecsichil said boredly, still following the old furrow for lack of anything else to say to Sador. "But is it all quite decent? This player, is he of at least presentable rank? Is there a chaperone?"

"A coachman, I think, Aerwen's usual one, but I mean, come on, brother dear. Aldarion is perfectly respectable, an old friend of Gloredhel's, no less." Sador looked automatically towards the object of his esteem and fear, but could not long maintain the gaze. "Anyway, we're talking about Aerwen here, one of the most famous scholars in the City and one of the shyest. I don't think she's going to conclude the ride pregnant with twins."

Circilie, a few months with child herself, and Ecsichil laughed at their brother's quip. No one saw Gloredhel's faintly narrowing glance except Lady Ecsichil through her veil, and she did not note it as any sign of emotion, a capacity, rather like speech, she had long since dropped, out of pure torpidity.

"Now then," Circilie remarked, bustling herself into the middle of the little party on a comfy chair by the Fornost window, "tell us about this play then, little Sador."

"That shambles? Why?"

"Oh, don't be so modest, kidling brother, I don't mean that funny affair being scraped out at the inn. I mean the play you want Master Aldarion and darling Gloredhel to help you read out after supper. And yes, I definitely want a part this time. Give me something funny."

Circilie's dimpled dollish looks were very good for moulding, and she made one of her famous silly faces, faces that had briefly amused even her husband, Amlach. Even Gloredhel laughed a little at this one, though it might have been, for all any of the rest of the family knew or cared, only the mirth of courtesy.

Last edited by Anguirel; 05-21-2011 at 12:36 PM.
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