begrimed | Meetings

Meetings

Behind an ever traveling emerald green door (you'll find it when you really need it, but it never seems to be in the same place in the palace) lies a quaint office, often slightly ajar with a few notes of music beckoning guests inside.

In the center of the room lies an ornate cedar wood desk, cluttered but just short of messy, with various sheet music piled on top. The bookcases on each side are in a similar state, books shelved away neatly were it not for the lack of any semblance of alphabetization.

The boss of this domain can often be found with his feet up with no regard for decorum; a casual enough atmosphere for casual enough chats, surely.

Those who venture into the palace to seek out the emerald green door will find it's different than usual, sturdier, with a particularly bright sheen and emblazoned with an insignia.

The door is also always closed, though whether it's locked or not depends on when you visit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For the offer, fraulein. Meant or not I don't get many of those.

[ A quiet smile. ]

[ No, he wouldn't, would he? And after how he acted today, it's seems unlikely there will be many who will offer. Oh, today... She wipes away a stray tear before it can fall. ]

Well... [ She sighs, a melancholy breath. ] You are all mine. I have to take care of what is mine.

[ He blinks way too wide, the customary smile on his face sliding off, melting into crystal clear astonishment. Out of all the faces he's made this past week, this one is new and in that sense it is in fact, hers. ]

[ It only lasts for a second before it too crumbles into a burst of laughter, something like a crescendo of different notes that shouldn't go together but somehow do. He has to curl in on himself to laugh as much as he currently is, hands at his sides.

Whether he runs out of air or simply catches himself is unclear but when he finds himself again, drawing in quick breaths that are still shaky on the edges he straightens up back to his proper height. ]

Is that what I am? [ Hushed and not at all there but still spoken nevertheless. ]

Okay, okay, okay. [ No further elaboration given, he walks over to where she is, not encroaching entirely into her space but certainly closer than he's been, aside from well, their pinky promise. The smile has slipped back onto his face now too, as well as his usual voice and cadence. ]

Then tell me my lady, what would you ask of me?

[ As he laughs, a flicker of doubt passes over her face. Did he not claim that exact thing last time? "I'm all yours," he had said in that nonchalant manner of his. ]

Yes. [ That is what he said. Is he taking it back? ] Have you changed your mind?

[ It figures he would get up close when she looks her worst. She doesn't want to be beautiful for him anyway. She tilts her head up, searching his eye with her own, trying to guess meaning into his actions. Even knowing how futile it would be to try and glimpse the truth in his expression, to catch the bruised shade of his innermost feelings. At times, the both of them willfully misunderstand each other, she knows.

And what did she want? There is a lot she could ask for. Information would be nice, but even without him, she can make do. Her magic back would help, but she's not helpless without it. He can ask what she wants, but she also knows his role and that role won't grant all her desires.

So what does she want of him? Something unsteady beats in her chest. She curls her hands there, protective. Defensive. ]

I ask that you're here whenever I come through that door.

I wouldn't. It's just— [ Some more laughter escapes his chest but it's short-lived, and he shakes his head running a hand over his eye. ]

...whenever... [ He drops his hand and refocuses, trying to catch his reflection in her blue hues. ]

I can do that, on one condition. No visiting me on Sunday nights and no asking about it either.

[ She nods slightly when he says he hasn't changed his mind, half focused on his laughter again and half thinking about the unsteadiness she feels.

Sunday is... Ah. A reminder that these strange visits may as well be happening in a time removed from here. There's no bargaining with a curse. Outside this room, the plot moves on. ]

Very well. I promise.

[ She wonders if he means to never ask, ever. But it doesn't matter if she can only visit until -

Until. ]

[ ... ]

Then it's a deal, my lady. Another promise?

[ He holds out his hand, pinkie extended. ]

[ Just how many of these little promises will they make to each other? (And how many will be broken?) ]

Another promise. [ Whereas the promise she had him make before was for everyone, this one is just for the two of them. It feels... unsettlingly intimate. It doesn't stop her from entwining their pinkies. ] I won't ask and you'll be here.

[ Then, a little reproachfully, because don't think she didn't notice: ] You've called me "my lady" twice now, but did you not tease me for calling you "my lord"?

Mmhmm. [ That settled, he relaxes the distance between them a little bit, opting to sit on the front of his desk. ]

Aha, but I'm not a lord. Are you not a lady? If you'd like to be called something else, do tell.

[ "Just Yuri." She had no trouble saying that to the others here, but he's never referred to her by name. ]

Are you not the lord of this castle currently?

[ He seems to chew on the question for a bit, leaning back onto his desk with his arms. ]

In a sense, but you could also just call it crashing the place. And I've never liked titles, so if you've gotta use one it should be the only one that's really mine.

[ If not my lord, then it would be... ]

... My don.

[ Ahh, nooo... Why is it so different when she's not using it to tease him? With dismay, she feels her ears heating up, which means she's probably blushing. Ugh. ]

Exactly like that, and with exactly a face like that.

[ Yeah, he definitely noticed. And he could (should) react with something other than a satisfied smile but-alas. Please see icon. ]

[ Nngh, if only she had a book to hide her face behind. ]

I disagree! It's too much, it's too much! J-just don or Don Hamelin.

Hmmm but you said it once already and my ears have gotten used to it.

[ She can grab a piece of sheet music for as much as that'll help! Unfortunately he is giving no quarter here. ]

You...! [ The only thing she'll do with the sheet music is throw it at his smiling face. ] You don't mean that.

Hey! [ He catches the sheet music somewhat awkwardly with a laugh. ]

I do mean it, my lady. I can't forget anything, so it's already committed to memory, I'm afraid.

[ What a ridiculous answer. But then again, they were two people in a very ridiculous situation themselves. ]

So you were teasing me before about needing to be reminded of your offer. [ She knows that, of course, but she was seriously going to remind him anyway. ] I'm... sorry, however, that you cannot forget. Being the one to remember everything is a great burden. It's painfully lonely.

Guilty. [ Of so many things. ]

Aha, that's always been the burden of the ruling class. [ Just a tad quieter, but his smile is still there. ]

Our stories go on forever, while the townsfolk had their beginnings and endings.

Brave of you to admit it!

[ She doesn't know what the ruling class means in this situation, but she can guess an approximation. ]

And the ruling class are the all-important main characters, while the townsfolk are inconsequential side characters. Something like that?

[ He laughs and if he wasn't distracted by her later question he probably would have said something really stupid about being open to punishment. Small mercies! ]

Something like that, yeah. They live and they die according to the rule of mafia, and their children, and their children's children and you get the picture.

Is that not how we all are? Living or dying according to rules... Human beings are blessed; they have the privilege of forgetting. But us, we cannot even do that.

[ She lets out a gusty sigh and claps her hands together. Enough of that. She's had enough of helplessness and despair for one day. ]

Speaking of rules, those who are guilty get punished. [ He was hoping to escape punishment? Nice try. ] As you've admitted to your crime, how, oh how shall we deal with you, hmm?

[ He shakes his head with a short laugh. Enough of that is right. ]

So they do, so they do. I'm kinda used to it though? So you might have to go hard on me if you really wanna teach me a lesson.

Hard, hmm~? I'll save that for the next time you're guilty. This time, however... I don't think it's quite fair that all of our portraits are on display and yours is not. So by the end of this coming week, please provide me with your portrait and information plaque.

[ But don't deliver it to her personally or anything, thanks. ]

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