Miriel
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Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Miriel on Apr 4, 2009 21:47:42 GMT -5
Out and about the streets of the sixth level, Miriel walked quickly and assuredly. Her hands were at her side, balled into fists, and she was near trembling in anger. There was still some light in the city, though it would be dark soon, and the great buildings cast long shadows toward the east from the setting sun in the west.
Her brother, Faeldor, was home for once this evening, and Mother was preparing supper along with her sisters. It was rare that all of them were together for the evening meal, but Miriel was not happy. She had simply been in the kitchen plucking a hen, when Faeldor had come in from his work. The man had leaned against the counter watching the ladies, and Mother had asked him of his day.
Mother never asked her of her day so often as she asked Faeldor. And even now it seemed as if it were more often than usual. Of course, such set her brother off. Oh the stables, this and that, a new horse here, and one dying there. Then he took another breath, got that precious light in his eye, and mentioned that name; Gilwen. Perhaps for the next half hour he talked on the woman to his mother, and to Beleth, just knowing that Miriel was listening.
He did not speak actually in what they had done together; only saying they had met again on their break as usual. Faeldor was not one to review all the intimate details of his time with her to everyone. Gilwen trusted him, afterall, and the words that each spoke were often meant only for one another. But what he did speak on made the woman burn with hate.
The ball. The Midsummer’s Eve ball. It was an annual event; all of the families on the sixth tier were invited, as well as the soldiers and others with high enough rank working expressly for the Steward. Faeldor meant to take Gilwen to the ball with him. It was just in a month, perhaps a few days less. But he had his plans set. It would be a surprise! He was having the loveliest dress made for her; as her pretty dancing dress had been ruined. Niniel, that nasty mother of Gilwen’s, who her own Mother had taken affection to, was of course in on all the plans, and had given Faeldor Gilwen’s measurements. And Beleth had helped him pick the design and colors at the dressmakers shop.
It was repulsive, the way he spoke on the girl. That little dreadful harlot.
He was all song and poetry tonight. Not as if that were any different than ever, but the subject of his praise had changed as of late. Or at least he thought so. In truth, he sung the same songs as ever, but he had such a cheerful lilt to his voice now. His beautiful Starlight, oh how lovely, sweet, endearing. How gorgeous would she be in her dress. How elegant, she would look as a princess of ancient days, or a bride of the richest king.
Miriel simply had to leave. She could hardly take another minute of his affectionate words and plans, or else she would have done something entirely atrocious to him. And she could not go on hurting her brother anyway; at least not physically. If it hurt him in the end when he had to give up Gilwen, then so be it, but it only in good measure for him. It seemed he would not listen to her words at all. The girl was a harlot, a sleeper, right out of the brothel, it was certain. The stupid thing was a servant, a poor palace servant. Her family couldn’t even afford to buy her a new dress after Haliel had ruined her other. She was little; scrawny and thin. Probably due to her father not being able to afford food or such; it must have stunted her growth.
Thinking of food, Miriel’s stomach rumbled slightly. In her leave, she had chosen not to have supper with her family. Such it was; it could have been worse. It was better off that she not join them anyway; the happy family could have their supper together, and she would walk alone through the streets until it became dark. Perhaps she would go to Rosiel’s house. But she and Rosiel had not been on the best of terms since that dinner party at her own house, when Miriel had allowed the woman to become drunk, and she had kissed Faeldor. The man had denied the woman’s existence since then. It was not as if he had enjoyed her company before, but now he utterly ignored her. Just as he ignored Miriel. No time left for his sister! He must attend to his Starlight.
The woman turned a corner, sharply, and as she walked quickly, and she ran right into another. A faint moan crossed her pretty lips. What now? She frowned, unapologetically. Why was someone standing there anyway? Anyone could have come about the corner and done such. Such the impact perhaps caused the angry tears and a light sob that had welled up to leave her pretty green eyes.
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Durion
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Post by Durion on Apr 4, 2009 22:57:56 GMT -5
It had been another day of witless training in the fields on those blasted mounts. Really, if it had not been for pretenses, Durion would have left the minute it had begun. It was a pathetic waste of time for the people of Gondor. Their end was nigh. A smirk crossed Durion's face as he left the comfort of his house, standing out in the streets for some fresh air. He would find no trouble once the White City fell. He was, perhaps, the only protected man in all the city.
He had come home, and his father had asked him about his day in the field. It was a mundane conversation. One that seemed to be routine, and always the same on either side. It would begin the second Durion would enter the home. "Ah, my son! How did training go today?" His father would begin talking long before he reached the hallway.
"Fair, if you can call it that." Durion would reply. Or, at least some variation of the sort. But never would Durion claim it went well. It troubled his father greatly. As a man who had served Gondor as a general himself, Daeron had come to the conclusion that his firstborn was not being treated as well as he should.
"Was it that blasted horse of yours?" This always made it difficult to fight a smile. His father had grown to hate the new stable master as much as he had. "It would seem the Steward would be bright enough to find a decent stable master. One that at least knew his horses! I should have him let go. He is a disgrace to Gondor," would be the hateful things that sounded so sweet and dear to his son.
Such a routine bored Durion, though. For as much as he loved to see his father's hatred of Master Faeldor, he wished more so to see him take action against it. Empty threats meant nothing to someone who had sold his soul. No, he was beginning to suspect that the horse master knew more of his heart than Durion was comfortable with. Perhaps because he was so well-versed in his horses.
Dinner had been served early, and while Durion joined his lovely family at the table, not a single one of them had parted with each other. Anira, his pesky little sister, had shuffled off to the library, no doubt. His mother was probably sitting in front of her jewelry box counting her precious stones, his father probably grasped a cup of wine and sat before a lowly-lit fireplace. And he, Durion, had gone outside to stare peacefully at the orange and red skies that blanketed Mordor in the east.
He had begun to aimlessly wander, not quite knowing where his feet were leading him. By paying no mind, he had found himself in a position that Durion was quite pleased with. A jar through his frame; a lovely lady standing before him. One who seemed deeply distraught. Inwardly, Durion smiled. This was precisely what he lived for.
He recognized her as Miriel, the younger sister of the horse master, having grown up a mere two houses away from where he stood then, he was sure to have seen her about at all the proper parties and balls. "I am dreadfully sorry, my lady!" He began, his velvety voice wonderfully colored with emotion.
He took notice of her tears, and moved in once more. Oh, how wonderful it was to be so tactful! "Miriel? My, it is but a surprise to see you out and about alone when it grows dark. A beautiful young woman like yourself should be more careful," He scooped up her hand and kissed the back of it in greeting, and releasing it. "I did not hurt you I hope," he smiled rather disarmingly. Distraught ladies always proved to be the best of prey.
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Miriel
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Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 48
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Post by Miriel on Apr 5, 2009 18:01:09 GMT -5
“No, you did not hurt me, but you might watch where you’re going,” Miriel mumbled to the man, still unapologetic. She was simply walking, and he was standing right there in her way. Why did he not move for her? But then, he had kissed her hand sweetly, and called her beautiful, and her eyes were drawn back to him. Her face was straight, yet tears still fell down her pallid cheeks.
At least someone recognized her worth. Someone called her beautiful, and treated her properly as a lady should be. Her family, as of late, had been quite displeased with her, and the little ones even avoided her. Haliel did not even wish to sit upon her lap in the evenings any longer, favoring Beleth. Even little Marileth, who would certainly someday be as lovely as Miriel had less and less to do with her. It was all that Gilwen’s fault. They cared for their brother’s silly mistress more than for their own sister. Her mother had barely spoken to her since the night of the dinner party, other than to lecture her or make sharp remarks about Miriel’s comments.
The wanton thing; why did she deserve such attention? She was from a lowly class, and a lowly family. If ever one such as her were to enter their household it should be as no more than an inferior, subservient, hired girl. Even then, all she was worth was cleaning duty, for her hands were too uncouth to even have her worth anything as a maidservant or a handmaiden.
Her hands! Oh, and they were utterly boorish. Ruined from her servant work. And even in the palace, when Faeldor came on his breaks to visit the bakery or the kitchen, and she was there, he would take her disgusting hands and kiss them. Her brother’s fair lips had no place on such coarse-grained and chapped hands. Even when Faeldor returned from work, he no longer kissed Miriel’s delicate hands as he did with his other siblings. Miriel pouted at the thought.
“Though I thank you for your concern, Durion. I would not have been alone if my own family would care to properly escort me,” she finally told him, her voice as sullen as her own face.
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Durion
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Post by Durion on Apr 5, 2009 19:04:45 GMT -5
Miriel. The only member of that family that caught Durion's interest at all, really. She was by far the loveliest of the girls, and had quite a sharp tongue; which Durion always found intriguing. Yes, her spirit was quite fiery. Still, it was slightly unprecedented, seeing the brazen young woman with tears. "You are quite right, my lady." He smirked. "It is entirely my fault, and I do beg your forgiveness."
Beg. Oh, what a strange word! Durion knew he would never do any such thing. Still, it was best to play the part of the gentleman---especially if he wished for the evening to at least become interesting. Miriel seemed to be fuming; and her head was certainly full of bitter thoughts; her pretty lips were set in a strict frown. She finally acknowledged him again, and thanked him for his concern. His handsome face smiled down at her. Concern, yes.
"Where are you headed? I should be happy to accompany you. Beauty will bring about horrible things at night." Durion stated, offering his arm in a proper gesture for escorting. "It seems to me your family is quite foolish to let you wander alone." He paused a moment for her to consider his offer, though innerly he knew that there was no chance of rejection. Many women found his looks alone enticing enough to follow him without having ever knowing him.
And Miriel. Well, they had known each other for a while. "If you have no destination, perhaps a stay at my garden to clear your head? It does seem something troubles you," he finished. While he was not one to ask questions, if he hung around enough, she would probably offer the information at her own will. It would at least be enough to satisfy his curiosity on the matter, if nothing else.
Though, Miriel has certainly presented herself more akin to him than any other in all the sixth tier, as far as personalities went over the past few years. A quite insidious little thing. She had started that rumor about that vagrant her brother was seeing now. Anybody with will enough to act against their own family was worthy of his time. Perhaps, even, they could find a way to resolve her problem, whatever it was, in a way that would be pleasing and thrilling to them both. He smiled all the more now, a gleam in his eye the only hint that his mind had even approached the foul thoughts, his face and gesture seemed gentlemanly enough still.
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Miriel
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Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Miriel on Apr 5, 2009 19:43:27 GMT -5
“You should be forgiven then,” Miriel answered aside. She did not care either way, but at least the man was not rude to her. If only her own brother would beg her forgiveness for the mockery he had placed on their family. She suspired to hear those words from his lips. She ached for her brother’s contrition.
Durion inquired as to where she was going, and called her family foolish. She agreed quite intensely. “Fools consort with fools. They have no time for the own wonder of their family. They would care little if something foul were to happen to me; and probably not even pursue the matter,” she complained. Though, she took the man’s arm as he offered it.
“I simply was out for some fresh air, I needed leave that insipid home and gather my thoughts. But indeed, let us go to your garden. My own family keeps our so plain that I can barely stand the dullness of it. I should like to see something attractive for once.” Miriel’s family, though having an ample income cared not for material expenses, and their garden was barely something that delighted her. Oh, Grandmother planted many flowers and bushes, and there was even a small tree. But only else there was a simple stone bench. No fountain, no decoration. Quite horrible, really.
Durion was a respectable man. He would not have put up with such rubbish as with what was now happening in her family. She knew, for she had grown up near him, and seen the way that he took to foolish people. It was quite admirable really; he found ways to handle situations without turning the onlookers against him. Of course, he had made some undesirable enemies for it. She was quite certain that her brother Faeldor had hated Durion as a child, and probably still hated him to this day. The two may have even physically fought one or two times in their youth, though nowadays, Faeldor was probably much stronger than him and would not stand for such vulgar behavior.
Aside from her respect for the man; he was also quite charming. One of the fairer men of Gondor, she would say. And stately as well; his family had far greater wealth than her own, or at least so she thought. They at least showed such better.
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Durion
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Post by Durion on Apr 5, 2009 20:04:36 GMT -5
"Then I may rest easy, knowing that such a stately woman as yourself holds nothing against me," He gladly took her arm, and they began to move, and so did Miriel's biting tongue. Oh yes, she was quite an irascible woman. Immediately she began to strike at her own family. It seemed as if Durion's day brightened as she continued to speak. Such talk always pleased his warped heart and brought a crooked smile to his lips. Though pretenses needed to be kept.
"If they would not care, I am sure another would." Oh, the mastery of words was quite a gift to have. It suited his nature just fine; manipulating situations to give multiple meanings to things. Here, he simply said that someone other than the family would care, however, with the way he was speaking it could very well be taken as he would care greatly. Women were such fun, really.
"Then my garden shall fit quite nicely your tastes." They didn't have too far to go before they reached it either. His mother had begged and pleaded his father to make it the best in the sixth tier. His father had obliged, for an unhappy wife meant an unhappy household, and had certainly only put the best of the best in it. Two good sized trees, ample flowers of various types, some exotic and from other locations about Middle Earth, with two intricate marble benches and a lovely fountain in the center. All of that for his mother to simply claim it a hassle to go outside in the summer for the heat, and too cold to venture out during the winter. It was never occupied. But such were the whims of women.
They walked merely a few minutes more and he stopped and showed her the door to his house. It was quiet inside; the only movement being that of the two housemaids that his mother had hired to keep things tidy and orderly. "Well, Lady Miriel, here is my house," he motioned to it from the doorstep. "I cannot recall, have you visited before?"
While he knew the lady was well versed in the parties thrown on the sixth tier, Durion was unsure if he had ever extended an invitation to her for his own; after all he was completely at odds with her elder brother. He seemed to recall her at a few anyway. Otherwise, how would he have known her? He opened the doorway to a large hall, and politely released her arm and bowed his head slightly with a motion to let her enter the door first.
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Miriel
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Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 48
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Post by Miriel on Apr 6, 2009 7:40:41 GMT -5
"If they would not care, I am sure another would."
Someone else would care, would they? “Then that does set me at ease somewhat,” Miriel responded, trying not to let a smile show upon her pretty face. After all, she was afflicted, she could not smile, even if Durion had admitted to caring for her. Well, she wouldn’t have guessed it from him. She thought that their families were entirely at odds with each other.
Durion took her to his home; it was not far away. She was relieved to be going with someone, and not simply wandering aimlessly through the streets. It would appear that she had left her home in all a rage, but later on if her mother were to ask she would simply tell her that she had gone visiting. And now her lie was made true.
“I cannot recall, have you visited before?" “Well, no, I do not believe I have visited before. You have kindly extended me some invitations for your parties before, but my brother has always refused to allow me to attend,” Miriel said, and rebelliously stepped into the entryway. Well, poor Faeldor would be upset now, would he not?
“Although I do recall that we have attended some of the same,” she added. She had sat by him once or twice, she thought at least. How was she to remember? He was always a man to have a different woman with him, and she often had eyes for someone else, not wishing to pursue those who were already accompanied. Besides, she was some years younger than Durion.
The first thing Miriel saw as they entered were the housemaids moving about and doing their work. Housemaids. Miriel’s family had never had servants, though they could have afforded such. Meleth chose instead to have her parents live with them, looking to the house and watching the brats while she was at work in the palace. At times, Miriel even had to wash her own laundry if her Grandmother had been too busy to do so. She hated the sting of lye on her delicate hands.
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Durion
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Post by Durion on Apr 6, 2009 8:41:34 GMT -5
"Ah, Faeldor always was one to disapprove of me." Durion exclaimed. He smiled slightly to himself and then glanced down to Miriel. "I am not quite sure what I have ever done to him, though we sure ended up fighting a lot when we were younger." Oh, that had been quite the time. Durion himself hated fighting; he much preferred to watch as others argued and struck each other over something that he had spurred on. "How is that brother of yours doing?" He sensed some anger on Miriel's part as she had spat out his name. Perhaps a common question would warrant the response he wished for.
It seemed tonight that he would not only be able to be in the company of a lovely lady, for what was more lovely than a woman with a mouth of poison?, he would once more be able to upset Faeldor in a tactful manner. Oh, yes. This was proving to be quite the evening of opportunities.
Miriel moved by him and into his house, and he shortly followed, letting the door close behind them before continuing. His house was striking, with a large greeting room his mother had always claimed as her own. On most occasions guests would not leave the proximity of the front door; they would be set right down in the plush red chairs until Durion's family had simply tired of them and asked them to leave. And surely, the display explained such things.
There was a low table in the center of the room of the darkest wood that his parents could have found, with a lovely array of fine seating and a lovely carpet upon the floor. An unlit fireplace, and a small mantle. Everything a guest should require if his family must do entertaining.
Their sitting room they normally kept to themselves; though it was quite possibly even lovelier than this room. "I do hope you will find it to your liking." He had yet to find a single person who would enter his house and think it unworthy. Durion imagined that he and his family were one of the wealthiest families in Gondor. Nobody had such finery, except perhaps the Steward himself. Though, was it really his? The palace did not belong to him, but to the king. Since the king was absent, the Steward really owned nothing. He was simply housekeeping until the true owner returned; though it would never be the case.
Durion thought fleetingly of the orange skies over Mordor. Yes. He was quite certain he was one of the richest men in Gondor.
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Miriel
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Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Miriel on Apr 6, 2009 15:24:39 GMT -5
"How is that brother of yours doing?" He had asked it. The question that would allow Miriel to begin her evening complaints. “My brother…” she started meditatively. “He is ever caught up in his own reveries as always. Although I should not know exactly how he is doing, as he has not even talked with me for some days now.”
Ever since the night when they had held the dinner party at their home, and she had called that dreadful out on her harlotry and her dreadful family lineage. Now her brother had not spoken to her, other than to tell her to hold her tongue, or to stop her gossiping. Hardly a word! He had done enough to treat her as a child and demean her etiquette.
“He is very well taken with a repulsive little servant girl who works at the palace, and even when I do see him it is all he seems to speak of. I never thought he would be in love with anything aside from those vile horses. Although I should say the filthy creatures, both the servant and the horses, are quite comparable in many ways. Good enough for work and use, but nothing more. She is quite a distasteful thing, a harlot, but I am sure he will tire of using her shortly. He could not have picked a more unbecoming and plain woman.”
Once Miriel started on her tangent, she could go on. The words that crossed her lips were only few compared to her own thoughts on the woman and her brother together. She stopped herself now though; if Durion wished to hear more, she would gladly tell him. The way her family loved that woman was utterly disgraceful though.
“Your home is quite pleasing,” Miriel answered the man as he led her in and she looked about. “In fact, I do not think I have been in a lovelier home on all the sixth tier. I regret never attending your parties. They must have been quite splendid.” They must have spent a great deal in the perfect decoration and arrangement of the room. Their own sitting room was dull compared to the luxuriousness of this.
“But now that my brother and I are no longer on terms of he telling me where I may and may not go, I do think I should see you more often, Durion,” Miriel said brazenly, studying the man now in the light as she had studied the seating and tables of his guest room. As she looked at him though, she remembered her own tear stained and bruised face; she must look a fright. Though for Miriel, ‘a fright’ was still more beautiful than most woman would seem even if they were dressed for the finest ball. “Might you have a basin in which I could wash up?” she asked sweetly.
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Durion
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Post by Durion on Apr 6, 2009 17:31:29 GMT -5
Oh, the question had been able to set Miriel off quite nicely, and amusedly, Durion listened and watched as she fumed and ranted about her elder brother. He listened only, and did not speak for some time; until he was certain she had finished on her little tirade. It was such a lovely bout of gossip that Durion did not wish to interrupt at all.
“A servant girl? My, that is a horrid match for anyone from a family as noble as yours,” he offered in a slightly disgusted tone, though velvety and rich in its own right. Inwardly he was smirking. “I have always thought that horses and servants were similar, neither are fit to be loved by any but their own parents.”
Though, they were fit enough, at least on the latter of the two, to keep yourself occupied. The conversation progressed on Miriel’s part, and it seemed that Durion had certainly worked his way into what could prove to be a pleasant evening. “Thank you, my family does try to make sure we are presentable.” Oh, it was so much more than presentable. It was more likely they tried so hard to keep stature. And in a city that was doomed to fall! If Durion did not so enjoy his family’s money, he would think it a waste.
“I would very much like to see you more often,” He smiled once more, finally studying the woman as she stepped into the light. She was one of the most beautiful women on the sixth tier, and as far as Durion was concerned, that was a perk to the little game he wished to play with her. But more than that, it seemed she had further potential. Oh, her biting tongue was quite intriguing!
“A washbasin? Of course. Anything for a lovely young woman,” he turned his head instinctively to catch one of the maids as she moved through the room. “You,” he acknowledged. She paused and looked to him with a small curtsy. “Fetch some water for our guest.” The woman curtsied once more and moved back toward the kitchen.
Durion turned to Miriel once more and narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied her face once more. “Tell me,” he began, “how did a woman so fair come to have such a bruise on her cheek?” He raised his hand, and delicately, for such was the way of any gentleman, and turned her head slightly for a better view, before crossing his arms across his chest.
He figured this would spout her off again, and give him further means to move his sport forward. It seemed someone had struck her; and a quick way to a lady’s heart was to offer protection, or try and right the wrongs done to her. It had been a while since he had been able to properly do any conniving mischief in someone else’s life. It was highly overdue.
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Miriel
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Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Miriel on Apr 7, 2009 11:33:15 GMT -5
“A servant girl? My, that is a horrid match for anyone from a family as noble as yours, I have always thought that horses and servants were similar, neither are fit to be loved by any but their own parents.” Durion’s words seemed to warm her. At least he agreed with her. Despite his loathe for her brother, he was still willing to speak for the good of their own family. Even the one who had often shared such angry words with Faeldor was troubled by such.
Miriel listened smugly as Durion addressed the household maid with a ‘You’. That was precisely the way things should be done. They were barely people, after all, and would probably starve to death themselves as dogs if their own Master’s did not take care of them as they did. That one was lucky, she thought, as the woman curtsied to Durion. To have food upon her table because of the generous families that allowed them work.
“Tell me…how did a woman so fair come to have such a bruise on her cheek?” Ah, so in the light it did show well enough. The bruise upon Miriel’s cheek was none as dark as that which she had left upon Gilwen’s, but now that Durion had noticed, she must answer him. He touched her face so gently to see. She hoped that his anger would be so aroused as her own.
“My own mother did strike me,” she said, a bit softly. “And only because I spoke up for our own family name, and against that dreadful little wretch of a girl. I defended our own Father’s name. If Faeldor wishes to have little illegitimate brats with that whorish woman, he need not do it under our own household and our own Father’s name.”
“She simply makes me sick. I should hate for him to see her as he does. He is my dear brother after all. It is simply sickening to my entire being. If she does end up with a misbegotten child by this, she will surely use it as a ploy against my family, and then Faeldor will see where he has taken us. I mean to see that she never imposes upon us again. Never mind if my mother should strike me a dozen times. She will thank me in the end, and apologize at my own feet.”
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Durion
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Post by Durion on Apr 7, 2009 13:22:03 GMT -5
Miriel's answer surprised Durion slightly; he had at first imagined that perhaps the servant girl she was referring to had struck her for her own dignity's sake. Though this...this was truly a story. If her own mother had slapped the young woman it offered him plenty of leeway to work his own twisted ploys. "It is a shame that your mother would let such a thing happen to your family." He dropped his voice here, to make it seem as if Durion was mulling things over in his mind before speaking; though he was well aware of the offer he wished to present. Servants were, after all, only fit for such fun and games.
"Even I should hate to see such a fall for your brother." He smiled. "Perhaps I can help clear your family's eyes, yes?" For Durion, it would not be hard at all to manipulate the situation to his liking. Many a Gondorian would gladly accept his money for simply speaking something falsely. Furthermore, his family had such influence, he could very well have the servant girl banned from the palace completely if he so desired to. Oh, but where would the fun be in such an easy downfall? And Miriel. Well, she would certainly enjoy plotting such deviance, the man was certain. After all, it only takes a few voices to sway the ideas of many; whether the words spoken are true or not.
The servant girl entered, a bowl of water in her hands and over her arm a fresh cloth. As she entered the room, she curtsied to both Miriel and Durion and moved forward gently extending them both to the lady for her use. Durion reached over and took the cloth from the servant, and extended it to Miriel with a very demure smile. "My lady." He bowed his head ever so slightly to her, and then turned to the servant.
"Mark this, and recount it to the others. Lady Miriel is a guest in our home, and should she so much as think of a want, you are to provide it." An easy way, Durion had found, in swaying the compassion of a lady of the sixth tier was to make sure she was treated like a queen. They all seemed to love such doting and attention. This night provided him with opportunities for his most loved past times: women and havoc. Already it was a lovely end to a horrid day, and Durion imagined that things would only become better as the night wore on.
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Miriel
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Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Miriel on Apr 9, 2009 13:28:47 GMT -5
"It is a shame that your mother would let such a thing happen to your family." At this, Miriel listened carefully, holding on to every word that the man said. So, he would not side with her mother on the issue?
The next words set even brighter on Miriel’s mind. "Even I should hate to see such a fall for your brother. Perhaps I can help clear your family's eyes, yes?" Of course, it would make sense that one would not wish to see another of noble class stoop to the level of a dog. But even for her brother? She knew that the men did not like each other. Faeldor was often good at keeping his thoughts to himself; though she could tell from his glance and tone of voice whenever Durion came to subject how he loathed the man.
“If you had the willing heart to do so, it would be an honor,” Miriel answered smoothly, and her lips curved into a smile. “We ever so much need it. The others have not their minds set in the right direction, and I just do not know what to do anymore.” She let her voice fall here, a bit pitifully, looking at the man through her eyelashes. If Durion wished to assist in her own family matters, she would not deny him such pleasure. She could in fact use another person on her own side; as it seemed by now that all her family was against her.
Miriel daintily took the towel from the man, and then looked to the maid as Durion addressed her. A guest in his home. She smiled, she might find herself at peace in a place like this; and she had a feeling that this would only be the first of many times that she would come here. She wiped her face with the cloth, wincing as she had forgotten for a moment the pain in her own cheek.
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Durion
Man
Gondorian Calvary
[Mo0:0]
Posts: 72
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Post by Durion on Apr 9, 2009 13:42:37 GMT -5
An honor. Yes, it surely would be. Durion was quite well-versed in the manners of treachery and bringing a pitiful downfall to another; his ways of working would undoubtedly surpass Miriel's expectations for the man. "I will certainly assist you, then." Her said lightly; as if he was simply referring to planning a party or something of the sort.
Well, this was surely a party for him. In one fell swoop, he would be fulfilling so many desires of his: striking Faeldor in such a way as to surely make the man miserable, wooing his lovely sister that would most likely do the same, and merely fill his unending desire to manipulate other's lives. This was surely a wonderful set up.
He watched as Miriel washed and cleaned her face, and tilted his head slightly as he gazed upon her. While she was so preoccupied, he let his cold eyes breeze over her. Quite lovely. He thought sinisterly before speaking once more. "When you are finished, my lady, we shall go to the gardens. And there, we will speak more."
He already had some wonderfully devilish plans to enact. From merely listening to what Miriel had said to him about the servant pleased his thoughts and sent his mind working. Oh, there were so many things that he could possibly do; none of which would directly tie back to him. This was, after all, the way he loved to work. To see his chaos from the sidelines...yes. That was his greatest joy in life.
He extended his hand to her, and awaited her to grasp it. Surely, she would have just as much to speak about as he.
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Miriel
Man
Cook
Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 48
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Post by Miriel on Apr 9, 2009 16:46:38 GMT -5
“I will certainly assist you, then." Miriel smiled to herself, washing up. Then she handed the cloth back to the maid, feeling refreshed now that the tears were gone from her face. It was as if she could feel the man's eyes upon her, and she enjoyed the thought of it. She said nothing more to the maid; but looked back to Durion instead, green eyes glinting.
“Good, I will be glad for your help, it is quite a bitter situation.” Miriel pouted for a moment, but then regained her smile, before saying her next words.
“Oh, then let us go to your garden, and we will fun with our plans. I am in dire need of such pleasure, and good company,” Miriel answered, warmly taking Durion’s hand. It seemed that her dour mood had all but left her now; for she found herself in the company of a charming man. And he was not only charming; he was also someone who would help her.
It seemed that Durion had the type of mind that would be quite good at manipulating this situation of hers. Perhaps Faeldor would be hurt for the loss of Gilwen, but he would soon get over her, and move on to better things. Such as her friend, Rosiel.
And for that Gilwen... well, who really cared what happened to her? She was just a poor servant girl, anyhow.
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