#23 Vanadium- Chapter 18
In which Larry is still a jerk.
Larry's room wasn't too hard to find after he had lived in the Ziefert's home for a while. During his first week, however, finding his room on the second floor was a daunting task. There were two sets of stairs leading to the second floor; one set led to one end while the other set led to the other end. This was not too confusing. However, near the stairs leading from the second floor to the ground floor, there was another staircase leading to the cellar. His first assumption that there were tunnels upon tunnels beneath the mansion was correct, and he had mistakenly wandered them too many times to count. If not for that the tunnels accessable from that particular entrance were mostly blocked off or caved in he might not have made it back above ground on his own.
But when Larry Malloy first saw his room, he had not yet gotten lost in the tunnels-- he had not even confirmed that there were any tunnels at that time. Instead, he followed the owner of the large mansion, Ferran Ziefert, from the front steps into the entrance hall. The entrance hall was spacious, intended for receiving many guests at once, and tiled in a classic black and white checker pattern. Along the outer walls of the room there were several suits of armor in alternating black and silver, placed upon the opposite colored checkers. A skylight in the ceiling shone directly onto a case in the center of the room.
"My great grandparents used it to display artifacts they had picked up in their travels, but Chris and I don't travel, so we put Lenore's and Annabelle Lee's keepsakes in it. We figure we'll put their awards and trophies in it when they get older, but they're only three and two years old right now," Ferran smiled proudly as he thought about his girls.
"What makes you so certain that they'll win awards?" Larry pointed out, once again raising his eyebrow.
"And what makes you think they won't?" Ferran snapped back heatedly.
"Your children are named for characters in Edgar Allan Poe poems. It would not be surprising if misfortune were to befall them," Larry shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitched upward at the thought of the little girls' misfortune.
"You are sick and twisted," Ferran said, his nose scrunched in disgust.
"And yet it hasn't ever done me any harm," Larry gave a small, smug smile. Ferran turned on his heel.
"Follow me," he grumbled as he walked down the hall. He didn't point out anything else during the rest of the walk to Larry's room.
Soon, but not soon enough for Larry's tastes, they arrived at his room. Although the exterior of the mansion was imposing and made of stone, Larry's room was not. In fact, it looked almost... artsy in its design. There was a large window taking up one wall. It took up most of the wall. The floors in this room were not marble like the entrance hall or stone covered by a long runner like the hallways. The bedroom had hardwood flooring. Covering the wall adjacent to the window, and directly acroos from the door, was a large fresco on drywall that had likely been added to the room whenever it was that this room was remade. It obviously was not like this originally, because the minimalist zen styling was not around when mansions that looked like castles were made.
The painting on the drywall was green and looked like vines curling up and down the wall. Running from ceiling to floor and about one foot wide was a section painted white (unlike the tan background on the rest of the fresco) with oriental characters on it. It likely said something poetic. Larry immediately hated it.
The bed was in the middle of the room and though it was large, it was not imposing. The bed was low to the ground, only coming up to his knees. Although it would be much easier to fall into after a long day, it was artsy and pretty and Larry didn't like it.
"Well, here you go. This is the room that you'll be staying in," Ferran said and turned to go.
"Do you have anything less... artistic?" Larry sneered.
"Excuse me?" Ferran aked.
"Don't act as if you didn't hear me. This room is hideous. I would like a new one." Larry demanded.
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I won't tolerate you to treat me as if I'm your slave. This is my house, not yours. It belongs to myself, my wife, and our children. When Mr. Ian Woon asked us to house a newcomer for the school year, I said no but Chris convinced me to allow you to stay here. We are allowing you to stay here. So don't you dare tell us what to do in our own home!" Ferran shouted. "I'm sorry that being exiled from your school isn't what you thought it would be. And I'm sorry that you can't walk all over the people who own the house you're staying in as if we were your servants in a high class hotel. The world doesn't work that way."
"You live in a mansion. I don't see why I can't have a new room," Larry demanded again, ignoring everything Ferran had just said.
"Even if I felt inclined to give you one, I can't. We're remodeling and this is the only guestroom we've finished. Dinner is at six o'clock, I'll send Sharon to show you the way," Ferran glared and shut the door behind him, leaving Larry alone in the bright, open room.
Running total: 16,506/50,000
Larry's room wasn't too hard to find after he had lived in the Ziefert's home for a while. During his first week, however, finding his room on the second floor was a daunting task. There were two sets of stairs leading to the second floor; one set led to one end while the other set led to the other end. This was not too confusing. However, near the stairs leading from the second floor to the ground floor, there was another staircase leading to the cellar. His first assumption that there were tunnels upon tunnels beneath the mansion was correct, and he had mistakenly wandered them too many times to count. If not for that the tunnels accessable from that particular entrance were mostly blocked off or caved in he might not have made it back above ground on his own.
But when Larry Malloy first saw his room, he had not yet gotten lost in the tunnels-- he had not even confirmed that there were any tunnels at that time. Instead, he followed the owner of the large mansion, Ferran Ziefert, from the front steps into the entrance hall. The entrance hall was spacious, intended for receiving many guests at once, and tiled in a classic black and white checker pattern. Along the outer walls of the room there were several suits of armor in alternating black and silver, placed upon the opposite colored checkers. A skylight in the ceiling shone directly onto a case in the center of the room.
"My great grandparents used it to display artifacts they had picked up in their travels, but Chris and I don't travel, so we put Lenore's and Annabelle Lee's keepsakes in it. We figure we'll put their awards and trophies in it when they get older, but they're only three and two years old right now," Ferran smiled proudly as he thought about his girls.
"What makes you so certain that they'll win awards?" Larry pointed out, once again raising his eyebrow.
"And what makes you think they won't?" Ferran snapped back heatedly.
"Your children are named for characters in Edgar Allan Poe poems. It would not be surprising if misfortune were to befall them," Larry shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitched upward at the thought of the little girls' misfortune.
"You are sick and twisted," Ferran said, his nose scrunched in disgust.
"And yet it hasn't ever done me any harm," Larry gave a small, smug smile. Ferran turned on his heel.
"Follow me," he grumbled as he walked down the hall. He didn't point out anything else during the rest of the walk to Larry's room.
Soon, but not soon enough for Larry's tastes, they arrived at his room. Although the exterior of the mansion was imposing and made of stone, Larry's room was not. In fact, it looked almost... artsy in its design. There was a large window taking up one wall. It took up most of the wall. The floors in this room were not marble like the entrance hall or stone covered by a long runner like the hallways. The bedroom had hardwood flooring. Covering the wall adjacent to the window, and directly acroos from the door, was a large fresco on drywall that had likely been added to the room whenever it was that this room was remade. It obviously was not like this originally, because the minimalist zen styling was not around when mansions that looked like castles were made.
The painting on the drywall was green and looked like vines curling up and down the wall. Running from ceiling to floor and about one foot wide was a section painted white (unlike the tan background on the rest of the fresco) with oriental characters on it. It likely said something poetic. Larry immediately hated it.
The bed was in the middle of the room and though it was large, it was not imposing. The bed was low to the ground, only coming up to his knees. Although it would be much easier to fall into after a long day, it was artsy and pretty and Larry didn't like it.
"Well, here you go. This is the room that you'll be staying in," Ferran said and turned to go.
"Do you have anything less... artistic?" Larry sneered.
"Excuse me?" Ferran aked.
"Don't act as if you didn't hear me. This room is hideous. I would like a new one." Larry demanded.
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I won't tolerate you to treat me as if I'm your slave. This is my house, not yours. It belongs to myself, my wife, and our children. When Mr. Ian Woon asked us to house a newcomer for the school year, I said no but Chris convinced me to allow you to stay here. We are allowing you to stay here. So don't you dare tell us what to do in our own home!" Ferran shouted. "I'm sorry that being exiled from your school isn't what you thought it would be. And I'm sorry that you can't walk all over the people who own the house you're staying in as if we were your servants in a high class hotel. The world doesn't work that way."
"You live in a mansion. I don't see why I can't have a new room," Larry demanded again, ignoring everything Ferran had just said.
"Even if I felt inclined to give you one, I can't. We're remodeling and this is the only guestroom we've finished. Dinner is at six o'clock, I'll send Sharon to show you the way," Ferran glared and shut the door behind him, leaving Larry alone in the bright, open room.
Running total: 16,506/50,000