impure_tale

Well now, that ain't a nice thing to say!

And it's not nice to keep a body waiting, either.

Hey, ain't all of us been here long you know. Takes awhile to figure out it's workin's when it's so different from what you're used to.

You needed a week, two days to absorb a port announcement, and an angry letter to make you realize you need to speak to your Inmate?

It's me, isn't it? You don't have to lie to spare my feelings. You won't have been the first Warden that's neglected and abandoned me.

Do you like mozzarella or cheddar?

Don't you have an Inmate somewhere waiting for you to make him a man, ma cheri?

See that? That's jealousy over having a Warden who knows your name versus one who just doesn't care enough to fill you in.

Are you mentally challenged on top of being a little too friendly with your charges, child?

We're not children -- we do not all go to pieces just because our keepers do not pay attention to us. I just find it courteous.

You overreact. One doesn't mean two or ten. Seriously. I didn't think being senile meant forgetting how to count.

Ah, but one can mean more than ten when the nature of the encounter is so much more depraved, my persimmon.

Do you get off on this? Because you sure as hell won't let it drop and it's creepy.

It's more the reaction that amuses me, which you should realize. What do I know about you, child, other than what the mad clown told me?

I'm fully aware, s'why I keep it coming.

...

That's why we're doing this?!

Well, why don't you ever go to the source? Ask me about me.

Because I was waiting for you to get the idea.

You mean you actually want to talk to me civilly and hear my side?

The matter in itself was private whether I talk about it or not. It's your choice whether you want to give someone else your side of the story.

But they are only words, ma cheri, and the longer you are here, the more likely you are going to come across much more unsavory characters than myself. And those people will probably try to do more than say mean things to or about you. So why would you allow such things to affect you?

Because this place we're stuck in? It isn't exactly gargantuan. I can only run so far before the words start to echo back. ~~Because I'm a girl.~~

And what you implied...and him, it was disgusting. So, yeah, I want you to hear my side.

~~Aren't you charming tonight.~~

I'd tell you that this port isn't as dangerous or unpleasant as the others, but I'm sure it will be.

I would have a better idea if someone would tell me more.

[Private]

How are you, Sparrow?

Well, how acquainted are you with Grimm's Fairy Tales?

[Private]
A bit miserable, to be perfectly honest. But it's nothing worth talking about. How are you?

Edited 2009-03-09 04:02 (UTC)

I cannot say the term is a common one where I come from.

[Private]

I would like to talk about it with you. Come have some wine? You might feel better.

They're children's stories.

[Private]
Alright. Right now?

...We're going to a place with children's stories.

[Private]

Oui.

[It's probably against his better judgement to go and do this, but West isn't in the best of moods, and so the thought of drinking wine with a friend seems appealing enough. And so, he slips out of Billy's room-- honestly, he doesn't understand the big deal Reid seems to have placed on their living situation-- and goes down the hall to the Marquis's, knocking on the door lightly]

[He's making no assumptions about this visit, though once one might have suspected that he would. He has a decanter and glasses waiting, and he comes to the door already dressed down for the evening.]

Welcome, Henri.

[He steps back to let him in the room -- but he pauses, as though he'd intended to do something else, but thought better of it.]

Won't you come in?

Hello.

[He offers a slight smile, then nods and steps inside. It's been a while since he's been tot he Marquis's room, and he looks around, briefly surprised by all of the odd, dirty statuettes, but quickly adjusting, remembering that they're part of the... er, 'charm' here. Then, he holds up the book he'd been carrying in one hand and offers it to the Marquis. Morgan's monkey had brought it by, but he had no use for it, seeing as his sister had already read those stories to him countless times when he was a boy.]

This is the Port, by the way. A world where all of this nonsense is real.

Thank you. I'll do my best to commit it to memory.

[He gestures toward the sitting area as he examines the cover and turns the heavy volume over in his hands. The room itself is actually a good deal less cluttered than it used to be, owing to the fact that he doesn't use the writing desk so much anymore, so there aren't books and papers scattered everywhere. As far as physical features go -- it is not as though the two do not see one another out and about; Henry already knew he'd stopped wearing his wig after Jim ruined it, but overall he looks calm -- which belies the tantrum he was throwing in his journal tonight.]

Make yourself comfortable won't you?

[Moving to the table between the chair and the couch, he picks up the decanter and fills both glasses, offering one to the Major before sitting down in the chair. True to his word, he's keeping his distance.]

Edited 2009-03-09 16:53 (UTC)

Keep it as long as you'd like.

[Not that it matters much, he supposes, since they'll be in port in a day or so. West moves to sit on the couch, and he accepts the glass with a smile. He holds it up a little.]

Cheers.

[Then takes a sip.]

How have you been lately? Warden troubles aside, I mean.

Bottoms up.

[He takes one, himself, then sets the book aside on the table.]

I've been mostly restless, Henry, but making due.

[His shenanigans with the Petrellis aside, he's actually been very bored. He gets out and exercises when he can. He eats. He reads. A lot. He's made it up to Emmanuel Kant and Nietzsche in his studies, and he's finished just about every book recommended him by the Wardens and Inmates that had answered him. Anything to keep him from writing, but there are countless books in the library now that are absolutely covered in his notes.]

I need this port. But what about you?

[He shrugs slightly]

I'm looking forward to the opportunity to stretch my legs, so to speak. It's beginning to feel quite small here and... I don't know. I miss the outdoors, I suppose. Grass and trees and dirt-- and sunlight. Real sunlight.

[He doesn't consider the fact that there are some terrible association with the outdoors, the sights of bodies left in piles, flashes of pale skin, stark against the darkness, against the blood, and the noises they make as they come at him... In his last day, he'd been chased through the woods by them, in the rain. Certainly, there may be some problems when he's there. Right now, however, the great outdoors are just another thing he's missing. He looks down at his glass]

It's a bit silly. Sentimental.

[The Marquis mirrors his stance, looking at his drink before taking a larger gulp.] I do not remember much of the last few ports we've gone to, so I am not certain it really counts for anything. But I know what you mean about missing the outdoors. [He half smiles.] You might have liked La Coste. It wasn't 'roughing it', but the country was beautiful.

[He realizes then, that he wonders whether or not his family carried out his final wishes as he'd asked them to. He'd wanted to be cremated, his ashes spread there, and it is a strange, morbid thought to have, largely because he's sitting there, having it, after the fact.]

You said you were miserable.

What was it like?

[Then, he leans back and takes another sip, looking reluctant in response to the Marquis's remark]

Oh. Yes. Morgan's been behaving like an absolute shrew, and... [He hesitates, a part of him wanting to add more, but he isn't entirely comfortable with being that open. So he shakes his head slightly] That's all.

[He sits back, staring somewhere off away from them.]

From the chateau, one could see the entire village down below. In the winter it's a sea of blue and diamonds in the night, and in the Spring everything is green and flowers. You can smell them carried up on the wind, in the mornings the sounds of church bells and animals and children would come along with it. Sometimes in the valley below it seemed to rain blossoms. It made my poor Renee so ill in the first weeks, but she still wanted to go out and see them, and her gardens would have made even the denizens of Babylon envious. She cared for them, my orchards and the house so meticulously. She didn't accept it as servants' work -- it was her home, her joy. [He blinks slowly.] She was much kinder and less afraid of common-folk than the rest of her family, than me. It was so easy for her to work alongside them.

[The Marquis shakes his head out of his reverie and takes another sip. He listens for West's response to his assertion, and he 'hmph's, trying not to smile.]

I saw. But then I behave like an absolute shrew, and you still like me.

Edited 2009-03-09 18:55 (UTC)

[He listens, not really sure what to say. It sounds absolutely beautiful, peaceful, and he honestly can't picture that sort of life. It's so far removed from everything he's experienced. He hates that he really is at a loss for what to say, and he feels like a bit of an idiot when he finally says something]

That sounds lovely.

[He feels he should have something more substantial to say than that. So, after a pause...]

My mother kept a garden. Nothing as grand as what you're describing, but... it was nice.

[And then he thinks for a moment and drinks some more]

Yes, but you don't make it a point to try to punish or humiliate me in public.

[...the fact that he's saying that to the Marquis de Sade of all people strikes him as inherently absurd, and he bites back a smile of amusement]

Edited 2009-03-09 19:57 (UTC)

[The Marquis winked as he reminded him] I'm not the person in charge of your reformation, pet. I'm just a friend, and it would be impossible for me to be both a friend and your keeper. [Not without changing his own attitudes and behaviors, which he simply is not willing to do. It is the thoughts and deeds of others that have caused him misery, not his own.]

[He scoffs a little] Yes, but if you were, I highly doubt you'd behave the way she does.

Perhaps I would. You are opinionated and there are not many places where you like to be told what to do. But you would not be in charge. I would be. There would be much clashing, not that I find that displeasing. [He smirked.] But others might.

I know. [He settles back into his seat and offers a teasing smile] I'm certain you'd enjoy a clash.

[...well, that sounded rather flirtatious. He looks down at his glass quickly and downs the rest of the drink]

Sorry.

Why apologize? I'm not offended. [He picks up the decanter] Would you like more?

Edited 2009-03-10 16:24 (UTC)

I know. I'm not sure why I felt the need to apologise.

[He holds the glass out] Please.

[The Marquis tops him off -- so to speak. He's not going to forcefeed him wine and make him look like he's trying to get him drunk.]

I'm not going to throw you out on your arse for flirting, so long as you do not hold it against me for doing the same thing. I intend to control myself. You need not worry, here.

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damn, that was fast!

o 3o b

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1/2 I read this three different way and then Yuna made me hear another. So, here we go.

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Strikes readable if trying really hard.

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