[Quotefile] A Day In the Life
Do Try the Porn
Dylan says, "Mother did conflate the idea of romantic entanglement with that of political study. It has fascinating possibilities."
Erasmus clears his throat loudly and sinks deeper into his chair, smothering a grin and taking up his coffee again.
Taleyn regards him steadily. "Indeed."
Dylan says, "This does color some of my recent interactions."
Dylan frowns, thoughtfully.
Erasmus offers, "The Palace Library has some scholarly books on the topic, if that would be helpful. Half of them are illustration."
Taleyn suddenly chokes on her own coffee and shoots Erasmus a dirty look.
Dylan coughs. "I am passing familiar with the rude mechanics of such entanglements, yes. Though." And now he blushes.
"They'd firm up a familiarity that seems somewhat lacking," Erasmus explains, ignoring the look from Taleyn. "Especially if you need help in imagining, sitting across from a beautiful woman."
Taleyn's eyes widen a touch with an interest not entirely Ladylike at Dylan, and another glare not entirely Ladylike at Erasmus, though the latter is tinged with a blush shading to a smile.
Dylan considers the suggestion seriously. "I suppose more education might have value, though I had thought I might have passed beyond library research and into field study." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Perhaps it is for the best that Aunt Flora is not, in fact, to be my escort to this upcoming ball.
Erasmus nods seriously, seeming content with Dylan's reaction. "Good lad," he complements, sipping coffee.
Taleyn tries to suppress a giggle, utterly fails, and giggles for a good minute before stopping. "Forgive me, I assure you I'm not laughing at you, Milord. Rather, I think you must come to tea at House Feldane so you might meet my brothers, one of whom in particular I believe you might find much in common with."
Dylan's smile is subtle but true. "I shall be pleased to do so. I think, if nothing else, you will find your time in Rebma educational in the field of cultures of space and physicality."
Erasmus looks about as pleased as a father at these words, but lapses back into listening.
The Benefits of Being Multilingual
Fiamme gives Taleyn a smile that's a friendly veneer over something more surly. And she nods, as she walks over and stands behind Erasmus' chair. If she was taller, she would loom.
Erasmus twists and peers up at Fiamme a moment, fighting a grin. Then, unable to resist, he greets her in a fair imitation of mouse squeaking, hand raised in a wave and everything.
Dylan says, "It would appear the erstwhile Commander is fluent in some local dialect of mouse, himself. It is a pleasure, Dame Fiamme."
Fiamme gives Dylan a friendly enough nod, and then looks down at Erasmus. The surly appears to reach critical mass, and she draws her hand back for what looks as if it might be a clip to the ear in Erasmus' direction, but she stops.
Erasmus just smiles up at her, saying more normally, "Good day, Lady Fiamme. I trust you are well?"
Fiamme swallows, once, then says in a quite different tone than would match her previous expression, "A Mandrake with a sense of humour, and a death wish. Who knew." And she sits down, and smiles across at Dylan. "Lord Dylan?"
Erasmus seems right pleased with himself, and lapses into listening again, going to work on his fourth cup of espresso.
Death is Messy and Expensive
Sebastopol approaches Erasmus with a swagger that as much as says 'why yes, I do own the place,' and offers out one of his maimed hands. "Hounds, you say. I didn't know Prince Julian's dogs were kept in the city too. I've never heard them bark."
Ithunn frowns, making a small 'hmph' noise. "I didn't know..." she starts, shutting her mouth quickly at her brother's words.
"Good one, sir, never heard anyone make that connection," Erasmus replies smoothly, taking the hand in a firm grasp. "Merely the guard, keeping the rulership of the realm safe and knowing nearly everything that goes on in the palace." He shrugs. "Sometimes that happens to include copious amounts of your blood. The bill for damages should be delivered by courier here within the next few days."
Sebastopol, not to be deterred, said "Oh, you mean the guard are called Hounds. A little confusing for an outsider." He shakes briefly, then puts both his hands on his hips. "Oh, the bill. You know, I wondered about that. It usually *is* messy. Death's like that."
Ithunn sits back down by the harp, starting to play quietly again. "Bill. Right. That should go over well."
Erasmus nods in agreement. "Yes. Four silk rugs of size and two chairs." And none of the floor scrubbing and mopping. He smiles pleasantly to Ithunn.
Ithunn returns the smile, but her expression is far from pleasant.
Sebastopol says, "So, who makes rugs out of silk? I've seen them made of wool."
"Sir, this is the royal family," Erasmus replies, looking to him. "If Princess Flora ever wanted rugs made of human hair, she'd have them. I encourage you, if you disagree with the bill, to see her at the palace. I merely deliver. That said, I won't occupy your time any longer, my job here is done."
Dylan says, "Mother did conflate the idea of romantic entanglement with that of political study. It has fascinating possibilities."
Erasmus clears his throat loudly and sinks deeper into his chair, smothering a grin and taking up his coffee again.
Taleyn regards him steadily. "Indeed."
Dylan says, "This does color some of my recent interactions."
Dylan frowns, thoughtfully.
Erasmus offers, "The Palace Library has some scholarly books on the topic, if that would be helpful. Half of them are illustration."
Taleyn suddenly chokes on her own coffee and shoots Erasmus a dirty look.
Dylan coughs. "I am passing familiar with the rude mechanics of such entanglements, yes. Though." And now he blushes.
"They'd firm up a familiarity that seems somewhat lacking," Erasmus explains, ignoring the look from Taleyn. "Especially if you need help in imagining, sitting across from a beautiful woman."
Taleyn's eyes widen a touch with an interest not entirely Ladylike at Dylan, and another glare not entirely Ladylike at Erasmus, though the latter is tinged with a blush shading to a smile.
Dylan considers the suggestion seriously. "I suppose more education might have value, though I had thought I might have passed beyond library research and into field study." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Perhaps it is for the best that Aunt Flora is not, in fact, to be my escort to this upcoming ball.
Erasmus nods seriously, seeming content with Dylan's reaction. "Good lad," he complements, sipping coffee.
Taleyn tries to suppress a giggle, utterly fails, and giggles for a good minute before stopping. "Forgive me, I assure you I'm not laughing at you, Milord. Rather, I think you must come to tea at House Feldane so you might meet my brothers, one of whom in particular I believe you might find much in common with."
Dylan's smile is subtle but true. "I shall be pleased to do so. I think, if nothing else, you will find your time in Rebma educational in the field of cultures of space and physicality."
Erasmus looks about as pleased as a father at these words, but lapses back into listening.
The Benefits of Being Multilingual
Fiamme gives Taleyn a smile that's a friendly veneer over something more surly. And she nods, as she walks over and stands behind Erasmus' chair. If she was taller, she would loom.
Erasmus twists and peers up at Fiamme a moment, fighting a grin. Then, unable to resist, he greets her in a fair imitation of mouse squeaking, hand raised in a wave and everything.
Dylan says, "It would appear the erstwhile Commander is fluent in some local dialect of mouse, himself. It is a pleasure, Dame Fiamme."
Fiamme gives Dylan a friendly enough nod, and then looks down at Erasmus. The surly appears to reach critical mass, and she draws her hand back for what looks as if it might be a clip to the ear in Erasmus' direction, but she stops.
Erasmus just smiles up at her, saying more normally, "Good day, Lady Fiamme. I trust you are well?"
Fiamme swallows, once, then says in a quite different tone than would match her previous expression, "A Mandrake with a sense of humour, and a death wish. Who knew." And she sits down, and smiles across at Dylan. "Lord Dylan?"
Erasmus seems right pleased with himself, and lapses into listening again, going to work on his fourth cup of espresso.
Death is Messy and Expensive
Sebastopol approaches Erasmus with a swagger that as much as says 'why yes, I do own the place,' and offers out one of his maimed hands. "Hounds, you say. I didn't know Prince Julian's dogs were kept in the city too. I've never heard them bark."
Ithunn frowns, making a small 'hmph' noise. "I didn't know..." she starts, shutting her mouth quickly at her brother's words.
"Good one, sir, never heard anyone make that connection," Erasmus replies smoothly, taking the hand in a firm grasp. "Merely the guard, keeping the rulership of the realm safe and knowing nearly everything that goes on in the palace." He shrugs. "Sometimes that happens to include copious amounts of your blood. The bill for damages should be delivered by courier here within the next few days."
Sebastopol, not to be deterred, said "Oh, you mean the guard are called Hounds. A little confusing for an outsider." He shakes briefly, then puts both his hands on his hips. "Oh, the bill. You know, I wondered about that. It usually *is* messy. Death's like that."
Ithunn sits back down by the harp, starting to play quietly again. "Bill. Right. That should go over well."
Erasmus nods in agreement. "Yes. Four silk rugs of size and two chairs." And none of the floor scrubbing and mopping. He smiles pleasantly to Ithunn.
Ithunn returns the smile, but her expression is far from pleasant.
Sebastopol says, "So, who makes rugs out of silk? I've seen them made of wool."
"Sir, this is the royal family," Erasmus replies, looking to him. "If Princess Flora ever wanted rugs made of human hair, she'd have them. I encourage you, if you disagree with the bill, to see her at the palace. I merely deliver. That said, I won't occupy your time any longer, my job here is done."