Private Tales Light After Dark

[Gerrard]

"Erm, yes," went Gerrard. Now he had to phrase it somewhere between too subtle for her to follow and downright lewd.

"They wear masks as it is a masquerade of course and...well before the night runs its course that is about all that's being worn."

Gerrard turned away to find something else to look at.

"Anyway that's not the kind of event we will be going to. Not too difficult really? You must have picked up the steps at a dance the first time before?"

 

[Audreyn]

Audreyn did not give an immediate response, not yet over that last little tid bit there. She sputtered, turning away from him as well and fussing with the now cold tea he had brewed for her.

"Ah. Yes. Um. Steps. Yeah, you just kinda learn them as you go at home." She was already one step above, that was nice. She fussed with her dress for another moment more, changing the topic all together. "What time does the dress arrive? Will I get a chance to practice walking in it or..."

 

[Gerrard]

"To walk in it?"

Gerrard looked quite bemused at the idea. At least until he recalled the dress they had chosen and how stifling the one before that had been. He hadn't ever really given much thought to the lengths women had to go to to impress. At least not since some of the more rediculous fashions for men had died out.

"I don't know exactly, but yes I'm sure there will be. Although it might be more important to try some steps with those shoes on."

"I think I might have some more to eat now," he declared rather suddenly, still avoiding her eye.

 

[Audreyn]

Audreyn gave a soft blink, but nodded, not surprised that Gerrard wanted out of all this talk. He had been remarkably patient with all her stupid questions and girlie talk. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was a man, and an old one that owed her nothing at that. She needed a friend. Her age. Her gender. She swallowed a lump in her throat, not allowing her thoughts to go there.

"Right, yeah, course. There's leftovers downstairs. I, um," she rubbed her face, turning away as well. "Think I'm just going to go to bed then. If we're done here. Tired."

 

[Gerrard]

Gerrard worked his way through a full candle into the darkness. He did manage to make his way to his bed instead of falling asleep at his desk.

He was abruptly woken by a sharp rap at the door and made his way down to it with a robe thrown over his night garments.

"Unfortunately Baron Ostland didn't get so drunk on the hunt he forgot his offer," Gerrard called out as he closed the door. "Ball is tonight."

 

[Audreyn]

Noises of movement could be heard from upstairs, then a thump and a soft ouch.

Noises that could only be described as a struggle followed, followed by soft cursing.

 

[Gerrard]

Gerrard shook his head and did something utterly predictable: he started to light the stove for a kettle. It was cold in the house and would take some time to warm up. Too cold in the morning and too warm in the evenings. It hadn't bothered him so much when he was a much younger man.

"Toast and tea?" he called up the stairs.

 

[Audreyn]

"...Yeeees," came the strained, unwilling reply.

It would be a solid ten minutes until her footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs, her hair disheveled and shoulders warmed by her cloak. It stuck out around her body in quite the impressive circle. Almost like... a petty coat was under it. She did not let it fall open, sitting down with a flop at the table and acting like absolutely nothing unusual was about. She grabbed at the brewed tea, blowing on it.

"Morning," she mumbled.

 

[Gerrard]

Gerrard decided to let the strange turn of events go for now. He set a plate out in front of her with a spreading knife. Then he set out the kettle with a rag around the hot handle, a slice chunk of bread and several glass jars of jam.

He poured himself a cup of tea and gave her an enquiring look as he nodded towards her cup. It was quite clear that questions were sitting on the tip of his tongue.

 

[Audreyn]

She blushed, face disappearing into the cup.

"...I'mstuck," came the muffled explanation. The details would be quick to notice. A petticoat was not something she had owned before, so there had to have been another delivery this morning that she had retrieved while he was asleep.

Seemed like someone had gotten into things and had quickly found themselves in over their head. Literally.

She peeked up over her cup edge, apprehensive for his laughter.

 

[Gerrard]

"Ah," went Gerrard. That little looked cross his face. The one that she would slowly recognise as for times when he felt as if he was distinctly out of his depth.

Gerrard took a bit of bread that had been slathered in jam. He chewed thoughtfully, frantically looking for a solution.

"Well...it is...not really appropriate for me to help. So...I will dress and call on Mrs Smytherton and ask her for some assistance in the matter."

Gerrard gave a sharp nod and hid behind his own cup of tea. That sounded like a fine solution. Quick thinking.

 

[Audreyn]

He got nothing but a curt nod, also dipping back into her cup. Her mood had not entirely recovered from the day before, exaggerated by fears and frets of the flurry that would be tonight. She said in a stressed silence, occasionally bringing a ball of light to her palm in a brief moment of practice.

Breakfast passed in such a manner, Audreyn barely giving a spare thought to the luxury of multiple jams and bread as she tried not to pick at the tangle of knots behind her back. Another knock sounded at the door as more bits of yesterday's purchases were delivered in. Audreyn gave a panicked look down at herself, then back up to him.

Don't make her do it.

 

[Gerrard]

"I'll get that," he said, even though they both knew it wasn't going to be Audreyn.

Gerrard headed for the door. Audreyn would here a few murmured words before Gerrard raised his voice.

"Don't 'tut' at me young man I was working late into the night!"

The door wasn't slammed but it was closed loudly. Gerrard returned and sat several fabric parcels and two wooden boxes down on a table.

"Do you want me to at least..." Gerrard started as he saw several tangled loops of thread, "...never mind."

 

[Audreyn]

Audreyn cleared her throat, pretending she hadn't heard that as she dusted off her hands and edged forward. "Who was that?" She pried curiously at the packages, the floofy of her cloak flairing and knocking into him. They were quite the dangerious things, petty coats.

 

[Gerrard]

"Delivery boy from the tailors. And it looks like our shoes were sent through them," Gerrard said.

He took a half step away to avoid being bumped any more by her petticoats. He pulled open the first wooden box which had been inlaid with a cushioned scarlet fabric. Audreyn's shoes were tightly nestled inside.

"Maybe I'll go get properly dressed and head around to see if Mrs Smytherton can help," he suggested. "Wouldn't want any more delivery boys thinking it improper for me to be seen without a coat on."

 

[Audreyn]

Audreyn barely seemed to hear him, caught up in wordless awe over the completed version over the shoes. She had never truly seen something so fine before, never mind own one. She stroked it gently. It was an oddly extravagant thing to go on feet. It was just going to get dirty. And the box...

"Yeah, okay," came the distant response. She went to the next box, yanking it closer and peering in to find her bodice. Her eyes only grew wider. And the next box...

Best run now while you can...

 

[Gerrard]

"Why don't I go and fetch Mrs Smytherton and leave you to look through these. Oh and I'd best arrange someone to fetch the horses later," he said as he backed away.

"Wouldn't do to turn up on foot and its the far side of the city."

Gerrard turned for the stairs, pausing only once at the bottom.

"Please don't try and unravel yourself to try everything on."

 

[Audreyn]

Audreyn snorted. She couldn't if she tried.

She was quite the tangled mess, not that he would ever see... "Send her first, please!" She called out, an excited plea. Her trepidation had melted away, pure excitement taking root.

A gasp echoed from downstairs.

Someone had found the jewelry.

When he returned to leave he's find she was fully clothed, as requested. Every piece of clothing had been inside laid out. She was trying his chain on as a bracelet.

 

[Gerrard]

"That one is for me," Gerrard said as he strode across the room. He had his boots and coat on now. "And yes you are going to have to get the sniggering at me wearing jewellery and tight leggings out of the way before we get there!" he added as he reached the door.

He wasn't gone for very long. The front door was opened to the sound of Mrs Smytherton saying: "No, really Mr Duvont it is no bother."

The pair stepped inside and the pragmatic woman cast a glance up and down over Audreyn.

"Well then, let's get up to your room. Mr Duvont would you mind carrying up the rest of the outfit?"

 

[Audreyn]

Audreyn very eagerly puttered upstairs, by this point unabashed about the state she was soon to be found in. This was all just so exciting Gerrard barely got a flickering murmur of notice from her as he brought the things up, giving him a bit of a taste of his own 'absorbed in this interesting thing' medicine as they were left to it.

And she would not be seen again for hours. For it would literally take hours of bathing and brushing and priming and dressing before Mrs Smytherton found herself satisfied with her work. It was well past lunch, moving deep into the afternoon before Mrs Smytherton gave a brisk knock on his study for his attention.

Audreyn stepped in without any fan fair, almost unrecognizable beneath the complicated braids and lavish cloth. She gave an uncomfortable grimace, moving unnaturally.

"It's a bit early for an evening gown," the woman commented. "But at least she is in it." And the look that followed warned he was about to be shoved into his garb as well, a brow raised.

 

[Gerrard]

"Very good," Gerrard muttered, casting them a brief sideways glance. His fingers were stained with ink and he had a thumb pressed to his lips. He looked down at the pages as if they were deliberately frustrating him.

"Gerrard," hissed Mrs Smytherton.

He turned sharply, casting his eyes over Audreyn. His lips twitched upwards into a smile and the quill returned to his pot of ink.

"Oh, you're all done!" He had seen the dress before, but it had all been a bit of a facade. Dress was pinned awkward, her hair pulled back out of the way. Now the whole look was complete.

"You look stunning Audreyn."

"And you need to come nowhere near her until you've washed up properly Mr Duvont!" Mrs Smytherton interjected. "I fancy you haven't even eaten lunch again."

 

[Audreyn]

"If he'll even have space for it once you're done with him," Audreyn grumbled, picking at her corset through the bodice. She's been turned into a casing of sausage! Her discomfort would be well noticed, her hand lightly tapped by Mrs.Smytherton.

"Up, out you go I've drawn you a bath. I'll have a platter and your clothing laid out in your quarters, out you go we don't have all night~" She turned to Audreyn, an almost hungry look in her eyes. "Now up with you dear we'll get you use to moving."

Audreyn sent him a pleading glance. Heeeeelp. T'was but the tiniest taste of upper class. Audreyn felt she already understood his pain.

 

[Gerrard]

"Someone once remarked to me, as a waiter passed with a tray of pastries, that a corset was at least a defence against overindulgence." Gerrard had a wry smile on his lips as he stepped away from his table. An ink-stained rag did little to get the stains from his hands, but at least any wet ink was removed.

Mrs Smytherton made a shooing motion at him. He held some mild regret himself for inviting her over to help, but it had been that or try and extract Audreyn from her undergarments with some form of magic.

Gerrard didn't waste any time in slipping into his bath. The water was just warm enough that it wasn't uncomfortable. The scars across his chest would still sting. They always did. No random marks, the harsh lines forming some kind of pattern. Not even a magical healer had been able to reduce them. For him they would always serve as a reminder of Murant, of his great failure. Yet there was always a niggling concern that it was something more. A mark that it gave something a power over him.

---

"Well, at least padding and ruffles went out of fashion," Gerrard announced as he made his way down the stairs. "Whilst some might like being fashionably late, being early means getting the good apparetifs and avoiding Baron Ostland making a fuss when we arrive."

 

[Audreyn]

"Apparetifs?" Audreyn echoed, turning and blinking at the sight of him. "Oh so it's a beard, here I was always thinking it was just dirt."

HE HAD LEFT HER TO CURTSY PRACTICE. THE BETRAYAL.

Audreyn snuffed past him without further word, eager to be out the door and free of Mrs. Simtherton's well meaning clutches. She didn't recall being fitted with a light silk cloak, but it was there among the pile and it matched her dress, so she slipped it over her shoulders and bustled straight on out.

It had to be said-- she was moving better.

Mrs. Smitherton gave him a look of exasperated pity. "You have got your hands full with that one. Where did even find such a thing?" She moved forward, batting his hands away and straightening out the parts of him that were not quite up to standards.

 

[Gerrard]

"Try teaching her magic," Gerrard muttered. His gaze however turned to Audreyn to find a fellow sufferer. Mrs Smytherton was remarkably rough in straightening out his tunic.

"You should apply some red to your lips Gerrard!" she chastised. In the courts of Vel'Anir make up was not just for women, though the trends were tending towards more subtle. An exception was the small coloured symbols made of gum that were often applied to the back of the left hand or the cheek to show house allegiance.

Gerrard had no interest in such matters. The last thing he felt he needed right now was a wife from one of the Anir houses.

"And yes, they have small delicacies made of pastry and suger before everyone sits for the meal." His gaze fell to her cinched waist.

"Which is all you might fit."