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Post by Kelathi on Jun 1, 2012 21:33:53 GMT
[[Set loosely in Victorian times. Loosely because It may not be completely historically correct, I did not research when things like cameras and cars and planes were invented… But if I say Victorian, you get the idea! XD So yes in Thailand. Not sure where I am going with this, I got inspiration whilst I was at work and just had to wriiiiite! I added some possible character ideas with reference to a possible impending war, etc, so enter however you feel fit. Sorry it's a little long… I had so much fun writing this ]]
“18 is much too old. She should have been betrothed no later than 16. No wonder she has grown up a wild, reckless creature!”
There are many rooms in this house. There are many secret passageways. At the age of nine, after accidently opening a secret compartment in the wall, Lucille had vowed to find every single one of its secrets. She became sensitive to the gentle creak of a floorboard, the rustle of air between the slats in the walls, a mysterious looking alcove that seemingly served no purpose. She tugged at polished candle-holders, slid out every book in the library, and knocked on creaking tiles. Out of the 50 rooms, she had discovered 25 more, each with it’s own hidden door or passageway, and was sure that there was still much more to find. She discovered hidden pulley systems in the walls, where one need only slip into the small box, and pull on the rope, lifting themselves up into the other rooms without ever having to use the stairs. It was this she sat in now, the voice of her maid, Nelly, echoing clearly through the walls.
“A savage little thing. But of course the master does not see it. She is his Little Princess, and will remain so until she is well into her thirties!” The stinging words did not come as a surprise, but Lucille decided, nevertheless, that Nelly was long awaiting another prank.
Lucille was not a nasty child; in fact, she charmed noblemen and women alike wherever she went. But she was spoilt, and it was this that ruined her. She had not always been so wayward, but she had grown up with her father’s boisterous and stubborn attitude, and her mother’s pride. It was a dangerous mix, resulting in a beautiful, but wayward child. Nelly often referred to her as the ‘Little Changeling’ and could often be heard exclaiming, “You were such a quiet, lovely child!” or “Where did my shy Little Lucy go?” If the question had not been rhetorical, she would have answered. She would have claimed that it was Nelly’s fault, for getting rid of her child play-mate, her first and only friend. Nelly had sworn blind that it had been he that had driven Lucille wayward, and when Lucille’s father had been away, had got rid of him. After that, it had been a downward spiral, with Lucille growing even more belligerent and reckless each day, and Nelly’s patience growing to snapping point.
In fact, it had been a number of things that had caused Lucille’s appalling behavior. Belonging to an incredibly influential and rich bourgeoisie family, Lucille had been an only child. Her father, Laurent Chenard, had fallen for the young daughter of the Belanger family, a family that at the time was held in great prestige. Aurelie was his first love, but not his last. His second love was Thailand, ‘the land of smiles’. Enthralled by its culture, history, and its people, he emigrated, taking his young and pregnant wife, once Aurelie Belanger, with him. The journey had taken months on railways and ships and whatever type of transport that came about. When they finally reached Thailand, the stress delivered Lucille early, and Aurelie died in childbirth.
It is needless to go into too much detail of how Laurent felt. He was not a cruel man, and not usually so selfish, despite what this spontaneous excursion may suggest. Whatever had driven him to come to this strange, foreign country; the allure it had once held had become tarnished with the death of his wife. A great depression hit him, and for the first few years of Lucille’s life he was merely a shadow in the background, a person she never saw, a stranger. But one day something changed, and since then, he has never doted so lavishly upon any other as he did his only child.
This child, this gem, she was the only thing in the world he now cared about, and he was determined for her to grow up not only loved, but educated. He spent countless amounts of money on private tutors, something that was not unusual for the time, but what made it incredibly unorthodox was the extent of trouble he went through to get his daughter the very best. The Chenard family were one of the first to hire their own private transport by aircraft, and rumours that he actually flew in tutors from France were absurd, but nevertheless, entirely true. She was taught maths, science, art, music. She was trilingual, being fluent in English and Thai as well as French.
Chenard began to be known by people back home as the ‘Ludicrous Lord’, yet he was also greatly admired and respected in all circles. A charity-giver, a rare thing in a nobleman, who worked to help those less fortunate than himself rise to all that they could be. He was a great believer in helping the poor better themselves and climb the social ladder, rather than putting value in solely ‘old money’, which was passed down from generation to generation, so that the beneficiaries were wealthy by luck rather than through hard work. His wealth seemed unfathomable, and there were many unpleasant rumours surrounding its source, spurred on by the jealous and most likely less-rich. He still owned estates back in France, so he was often away for long periods of time, flying back to sort out his affairs and spending at a stretch six months away from home, returning for one, before he would disappear again until Christmas.
Lucille cherished that one month like no other. For her father, she was the elegant, well-behaved child he had tried to rear. For four remaining months of the year she was the little devil that ran riot in a house that was too big for her. As well as being spoilt, being deprived of company her own age did not do her any good. In her loneliness, she grew sly and deceitful, playing pranks on those in the household, the receiver of the majority of which was usually the luckless Nelly.
Now, at 18 years old, she had not changed much. Charming and pleasurable company to strangers, she was a hellish, uncontrolled demon at home. As she pulled on the rope, lowering herself back down to the cellar, she was already planning what prank she would next pull on the maid for her harsh words…
***
Laurent Chenard studied his daughter. Her hair was disheveled, the flaxen, untamable curls falling almost to her waist. The dress she wore was scuffed with dirt at the front where she had undoubtedly been kneeling, and her feet were shoeless and sockless. Her frozen face was one of surprise. She had just looked up to find that she had a witness, and he pictured in his mind the laugh that was to follow… like silver bells. Just like her mother. He chuckled quietly to himself, propping the photo back up on his desk. He was to leave in ten minutes, but he always allowed himself a few minutes alone in his room before final goodbyes.
As he traced the indents in the wooden table, tiny grooves created from years of writing, his expression became grim as he recalled his conversation with the household.
“But father, must you go already?” Lucille had whined, her eyes brimming with tears, yet allowing herself enough reservation to not let them overflow. Dressed in an elegant emerald dress, and her hair curled in controlled ringlets that fell in a cascade at her shoulders, she looked a far-cry from her disheveled self in the photo, but Chenard had not been fooled for a moment. He could see the sparkle of spirit in her eyes, and knew instinctively that the young lady he saw now was not the young lady who inhabited the house the rest of the year.
He had placed both hands on her shoulders, [18 years old now… when had she grown so tall?] and kissed her on her cheek, before clasping her tightly in his huge arms. “Mon Cherie, I must. I’m afraid I must put some affairs in order. But I will be back soon.”
He did not tell her about the rumours. It was only fear-mongering, after all. No one could even be sure that there was to be a war at all. If things started to get a little shaky, then he would deport the household at once.
But the rumours had been disturbing nonetheless… The Thais, the very same who had accepted Chenard so willingly into their country, were now looking less than favorably upon France. Talk of war had been all over Paris, but here things did not seem to change. People still looked upon him appraisingly, no one was hostile. No, if anything did happen, Chenard and his household would be safe anyway. They would not be targeted for their heritage, surely. The war was between the countries, not Chenard and Thailand.
But if they did move back to France, there would be other pressing matters. Lucille’s marriage for one. It was easy, so far away from the bulk of the bourgeoisie, to ignore things like marriage. But surrounded by them once more… tongues will wag against her, an occurrence that may very well ruin her chances of ever getting married.
Chenard did not like to rush these things. He did not disagree with arranged marriage, au contraire, he was confident in his ability to make his daughter happy with his choice. But there were few prospects for marriage here, unless to a Thai son, who would have to be of very high birth to even be accepted by the upper class back in France. Then of course there was the fact that Lucille may downright refuse to marry a native. The least favourable trait of his daughter, one he had vainly tried to discourage, was her snobbery. But having being raised in luxury, was it any wonder? He had wanted to take her travelling with him, show her the world, the poverty that some people live in, in order to educate her in the difficulty of life for those who have nothing, as juxtaposed to herself, who had everything. But his long excursions had simply not allowed this, and with her impending marriage, he feared it might never happen. She rarely left the grounds, for no one in the household had time to entertain her. No-one listened to her, so no one heard her wishes to go outside. She grew bored and restless easily. She was smart, incredibly smart despite her naughtiness, and she drank in knowledge greedily. But she was not wise to the world.
When he climbed into the motorcar, and pulled off the grounds, his thoughts were consumed in dark clouds.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 5, 2012 4:47:46 GMT
(Gotta love those loosely-set stories X3 Think I’ll have fun with this character <3)
The figure moved back onto the road as the vehicle passed, tapping the brim of his hat up with one weathered glove, a wry sort of smile spreading over lips with a rogue’s charm. Ah… so he was on the right path after all.
It was several minutes more before the mansion was visible amongst the trees, the gate standing tall and proud. The figure, in as ratty of clothes as the mansion was glorious, surveyed it without a hint of foreboding, or even a moment’s hesitation. Indeed, his grin was ever present, taking the difference as a challenge. Passing through, he easily made his way along towards the house, and when a few of the house maids noticed him with a bit of a gasp, he merely tipped his hat towards them again. Despite a very European cut to his coat, garments and accessories, a tall frame with broad shoulders, his features and coloring were far more akin to that of the locals; a mixed breed, most likely, of white and Thai.
A certain woman caught his eye, and he immediately began to make his way over to her, despite a few soft protests against his coming deeper into the grounds. The unfortunate victim was Nelly, who was cut off before she could vanish into the house – or shoo him off. “Ah, good day, my lady!” he said, a surprisingly Scottish accent mixed in with his words, despite his appearance. “I was hoping that a lady of such rank as yourself would be willing to offer the chance of a job with the household to even a poor soul such as myself?” he began to plead, his charm undeniable, a pitiable and pitiful expression encompassing his entire form as he half bowed to her, the hat already swept off his head with a grand gesture worthy of the courts of Europe. “My name is Kiet Niven, a humble horse trainer and handyman, able to fit whatever needs you may find you need… please, my dear, dear lady…?” It was a well-practiced act, but what other intentions he might or might not have were invisible.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 5, 2012 14:19:16 GMT
The stranger could not have hit the note any better, nor planned his appearance in any manner that would have been more effective. If Nelly had been prowling the streets, as she often did, accompanying the cook’s assistant to make sure he picked up the right ingredients for their fussy mistress; and had glanced upon the stranger from afar, she would have immediately taken in his shabby attire, the cunning glint in his eye, and would have turned him brusquely away if he had approached. But he had befuddled her with his presence; he had approached her quickly with his slightly foreign tongue, his exotic features and his charming politeness. His speech was velvety despite being occasionally interrupted with the clipped accent of Scotland, his clothes may be ratty but he introduced himself with the most sweeping bow that Nelly, a mere housemaid, had ever experienced. He must have known from the first moment, when her hand leapt to her gradually heating cheek… that he had her from the start. “My good sir… you flatter me. Of such rank… oh my!” She seemed to gather herself from the initial shock however; her expression turning to one of worry as she glanced passed him, assumedly towards the motor vehicle which had so recently pulled away. “Oh sir, you could have arrived at such an unfortunate time. The master of the household has just left…” The regret and disappointment on her face was plain, but then, her expression changing as quickly as the changing winds, her face lit up, a sly glint in her eye. The master had left… so did that not leave her, as head maid, the new appointed mistress of the house? Lucille was much too young to be sorting out affairs such as this anyway, she knew nothing of how the household worked. She would not know that as mistress it was her duty to oversee any potential employment.
Besides, the little banshee was nowhere to be seen.
She lifted a hand to her mouth, mimicking a conspiracy between the two, and spoke in hush tones, yet enough so that he could hear. “What the master doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt him! Besides the stable boy could undoubtedly use a little help with Beastly.” A wink, accompanied this remark. Who Beastly was, would not be revealed at that moment, but the bashful maid motioned the stranger to follow her. Obviously, talk of revolution and duplicitous individuals had not reached her, or else, she assumed that a man so charming could not be involved with such rabble. Whether he was or not, she had just invited him into one of the most influential foreign families in Thailand.
**
Beastly was an Akhal-Teke, a rare and beautiful breed with a satin-like pelt of black, which had been imported from Turkmen. The creature had been a gift to Lucille from a budding suitor back in France. When Lucille was younger, she had begun riding from an early age, and had often accompanied her father through the streets of Paris. Yet, the only individual of the household who looked after Beastly was the stable-hand. Every morning, he opened the stable door, and the horse would thunder out and streak down across the fields as if he had wild dogs snapping at his heels. The stable-hand would then take the time to clean the stables and top them up with food and water, before trekking his way down the endless stretch of land to retrieve the horse. Often, he would have to rely on a team of helpers from the house. The Butler, the Cook, maids and porters alike would try to herd Beastly back into his stables.
With the lack of attention and discipline, Beastly could be taken as a microcosm of Lucille’s own life. He had grown as wreckless, untameable and rebellious as herself. When the chaos had calmed, and Beastly was back in his stall, Lucille would sometimes creep up to talk to him. She felt akin to this creature, this horse that she never rode. She liked that he was fiery and wild. When he was back in his stall, he was calm, eyeing her with gentle, big black eyes. When he was out he was a hellish thing, and a devil to catch.
Lucille had stopped riding the first time her father had left for his 6 month excursion. Since she was little, she had ridden with his father, and she was determined that no one would take his place. She had hoped that when he returned, they would ride again. But he never did. So she never did.
The horse, therefore, was neglected from the experience of being ridden, and the creature eyed the stranger with suspicious eyes. Nelly wrung her hands, anxious should the stranger try to let the horse out, unknowing of the work it would take to put him back in. “This is Beastly. You will be expected to help the stable boy clean him out and let him out daily for his exercise. Unless you are of considerable experience, I would not advice that you try to ride him… At all.” She gave no further information as to the nature of the creature. He would find out soon enough. She lightened up again. “Now my good sir, if you would follow me, I can introduce you to the rest of the household, show you your quarters, and…” suddenly Nelly trailed off, a look of anger and horror strayed to her face, and she gasped, barking out a name, stressing the syllables in her fury, “Lu, Cille!”
It had not taken long for Lucille’s alternative persona to take over. Her flaxen curls, once ordered and styled like that of a noble woman, hung like pieces of unwound rope, trailing down to her waist. Her emerald green dress was now stained with dirt, especially at the hem, which was soaked with the brown substance. Her bare feet were visible, as brown as the earth, caked with mud. At sight of the two, her hands quickly whipped behind her back. Unbeknownst to Nelly, they had been harboring a rather large, bloated toad, the recipe to her next prank that she had waded into the centre of the small river for. Despite her bedraggled appearance, looking more like a feral stray than the lady of the household, she regarded the stranger with a noble, arrogant air. She stared into his eyes unabashedly, a trait rare in the bourgeoisie, who were all too aware of their inferiority to men, and it was clear by her calculating gaze that she was weighing him up. Her blue eyes, the colour of deep exotic waters, were at odds to the rest of her appearance. It was clear there was intelligence there, an awareness of self that was not usually present in the eyes of eighteen year olds of nobility, who appeared to play the part, yet were screaming, spoilt creatures with their siblings. Spoilt she was, arrogant she was. But when she looked at someone the way she was looking now, she appeared to be looking into their soul.
The maid was furious, but faltered, remembering the presence of the stranger. “This is Lucille.” She announced. Then, with the deepest regret, an apology sounding in her comment, she added. “Lucille Chenard. The lady of the household.”
Lucille’s expression did not change with the title. She had not left the man’s eyes since they had first met. “Hello.” She stated blandly. Her voice was strange, obviously French, but she had the appearance of one who had paused to regard him, before deciding which language she referred to him in.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 5, 2012 23:47:52 GMT
"Ah! My lady is so very generous!" he immediately perked up at her offer, immediately taking and kissing the back of her hand numerous times, but somehow his gaze had remained oh so eager, trusting and open as she had murmured half to herself, as if he had no doubt of what power she held in the household. He bowed to her again, deep and sweeping, every inch the grateful, humble fool who had been offered the highest praise from one far above in rank. "Lead me as you will, have me do your bidding," he said as he began to follow, and had it not been for the fact that he had just been given a job, he might have sounded lovesick for the woman.
As Nelly began the little tour towards the stables, the newcomer seemed unabashedly unaware of the stares he'd earn, until a warm yet knowing wave would shock the audience into silence. Kiet's composure changed little as they entered the stable; while Nelly wrung her hands, he came up to the animal, holding out his hand for the horse to sniff, which he did. At first he was fully apprehensive, but after a few moments flicked his ears forward. Despite the name, the man seemed completely at ease with Beastly, his calm air and warm smell of the outside making him seem… well, at least less suspicious. "Ah, I quite understand," Kiet replied to Nelly's explanation, turning to face her with that decidedly calm and composed smile, as if nothing in the world could disrupt it.
Well, something did. He had had his back to the entry of the stable when a name was particularly and carefully sounded out, looking back over his shoulder. A sudden coughing fit overcame him, as his eyes went wide, and a split second before his hand could jump to cover his mouth he half sputtered. With a few more, far more forced coughs, he quickly excused himself; "Forgive me… I didn't realize we had… heh-heh-ahem… company," he noted, and even though he had removed his hand, he was somehow able to hide most of the laugh from his lips, although it still clearly shone in his eyes even as the introduction was made.
"It is quite a… pleasure to… meet you," he noted to the almost curt greeting, bowing respectfully to Lucille, still having to slow his speech because of his "cough." One distinctive note about this bow, however, was that it was at most half as deep as the one given to Nelly. If this was a sign that he had no respect for one unable to keep her clothes from becoming muddy, despite the state of his own clothes, or if it was because Nelly had been the one to help him and Lucille was merely the lady of the house, was rather unclear. This was in large part due to the fact that, almost in fact of her piercing gaze, his own returned to meet hers levelly. This was hardly appropriate to do to a lady of rank above him anyway, nevermind the mistress of the house he now worked in, but there was an oddity to his gaze versus that of many of the men who'd come to court her before, and were willing to look into that gaze. This man was perfectly comfortable with whatever it was she was seeing; a man so sure of himself, so comfortable in his own skin, he almost took the soul-searching as a challenge rather than something to cringe from.
Rather than start a staring contest with Lucille, Kiet did another amazing thing; "My dear lady, with such a situation having arisen, I wish not to impede upon your more than generous nature with your time. Perhaps one of the others would be kind enough to show around… well…" He made the slightest gesture with his arms at his last few words, as if apologizing for slighting her vision with his slightly bedraggled appearance, but unable to put on any other show at the same time. It was an odd thing to view, someone who had shown such strength in his eyes suddenly apologetic for his mere existence upon the grounds, but it was remarkably pitiful and endearing all in one.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 6, 2012 0:48:52 GMT
At the stranger's 'coughing fit', the look on Lucille's face had not changed, and strangely enough, she remained silent even as the rude guest did not offer her a greeting. Nelly was quick to answer the man's suggestion. "Oh no!" She replied, sounding a little desperate, before she quickly calmed herself. "…No sir, I am sure I have enough time to show you around, besides, there is no-one better! I know this house inside and out!" she gloated, the pride shining on her face. Lucille's eyes narrowed when she heard this, her mind flitting to all the secret passage ways she had hid in over the years when Nelly had been looking to reprimand her. "Besides, we would not like to impede the rest of the household in their duties, would we?"
Lucille spoke then. "Actually Nelly, the stable-hand is free. Beastly has been fed and cleaned." Her eyes never left the stranger as she spoke. Nelly looked about to argue, but Lucille's eyes flitted to hers, and she was reminded that although she had been Lucille's nanny since she was born, she was still beneath the lady in rank. It was a shocking moment for Nelly, who had never been ordered by her to do anything, and even now, it was not a direct order. The mistress had always preferred to play the reckless child, which was much more fun than ordering people about.
Nelly looked wistfully at the stranger for a moment, then, looking flustered, wandered off, mumbling that she was going to retrieve the stablehand.
Lucille watched her go, then looked the stranger squarely in the eye. "Are you a thief?" She commented bluntly. Evidently, she was not quite so quick to accept as Nelly. She knew that whatever Nelly may claim, her father would not have hired this man without notifying her first. So what did this stranger want?
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 6, 2012 1:33:21 GMT
"Of course not!" Kiet quickly agreed to Nelly's reasoning against having another guide, as if the remark was brilliance itself. Even so, the shift between who would be his guide was taken with as easy a stride as anything – well, perhaps for the not-so-hidden laugh at the bedraggled mistress. He continued the part up to the end, again snagging the maid's hand for a grateful kiss before she had to leave, but not before he noted, "Ah, a pity! But truly, mistress, thank you ever so much…" He had the air of one who wanted to protest, but was in a position where he was unable to.
The behavior lasted up through even Nelly's disappearance from view, with even a hand held gently across his heart as she gave one last, wistful glance back to him. "Ah… such a sweet old girl. You should be gentler towards her, mistress," he gently chided Lucille, shaking his head in fond remembrance already. He still hadn't given her more of a look than his initial meeting of her gaze, more interested in watching Nelly's adorable response to being ordered elsewhere.
All thoughts of Nelly were momentarily blasted out of the stranger's head at the question, however; he turned to look at her with a moment's wide-eyed gaze of surprise, but a hand was hardly enough to protect him this time. He doubled over with this laugh, arms folding about his stomach as he curled down with the sheer force of the laugh, and actually half fell into the post that attached to the pen that the Akhal-Teke was stalled in. The horse snorted at Kiet for the surprising noise, so sudden, but also so very open. The lack of any malice, mask or threat calmed him a few moments later, ears swiveling forward again, stepping forward to sniff precariously towards the odd human.
It literally took Kiet more than a minute to regain his breath, and even so was panting as he finally managed to get his eyes back to her. "Oh… forgive me… m-mistress… hah hah! And here I thought I might look less the sneaky one than present company might indicate," he noted merrily, with an obvious yet subtle reference to Lucille's muddied state. With an attempt at clearing his throat of the laugh, he added after a few moments, "Have no fear, sweet lady… I have no interest in anything that is not earned with an honest day's work."
Kiet glanced over his shoulder towards Beastly, who was still eyeing him suspiciously, but was slowly drawing closer. Usually people stayed away from the gate the newcomer was leaning against, except for Lucille. This lack of fear was encouraging, as was the man's willingness to be patient and let the horse come to him rather than even reach out towards a curiously sniffing muzzle. "Your mistress is an… interesting one, Pa Hnung," he remarked to the horse, having apparently renamed him in his own mind. The new name for the horse was also interesting; surely "wild one" had little to do with his name of "Beastly"?
Why, however, the stranger had started talking to a horse when in the presence of the lady of the house was an absolute mystery.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 6, 2012 1:51:20 GMT
This time she did react when he so openly laughed at her. "I don't find this funny!" She snapped angrily, raising her chin a little in defiance. Her eyes flickered to Beastly as he approached the stranger, the creature's reaction to him being completely out of character. She felt a twinge of annoyance. Traitor. Well she wouldn't be tamed so easily, with this stranger's false charm. She did not see his unrestrained laugh as one that was open and friendly as the horse did, rather, it was an insult. How dare he speak to her like that? And how dare he laugh! The maids were often horrified at what new prank she had conjured up next, or what state she had managed to get her dress in. But never had they laughed!
She tried not to think about how much she hurt at the betrayal as the man petted her only companion, and decided to tackle the problem promptly. Nelly had employed the man, and she had no idea how she, despite being the mistress, was to get rid of him. If Nelly persisted, what could she do? As Nelly had stated earlier, Lucille did not know how things worked around here. Well, she could at least let him know that she was not, in any shape or form, happy with the stranger being here.
"You shouldn't be here. Nelly was wrong to invite you in." She announced. As an afterthought, she added. "My father shall hear about this." Although, looking at him, she snootily assumed he would not know who Laurent Chenard was. With that said, she placed the toad as dignified as she could into her pocket, then turned on her heel promptly, walking away before she could hear his answer, whatever it was.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 6, 2012 2:43:11 GMT
Kiet watched the thoroughly indignant Lucille leave, shaking his head in amusement. He glanced towards Beastly once more, but this was one look too many; the horse shied away, tossing his head and whickering almost as indignantly. At that, Kiet let his eyes rise to the ceiling, hands outstretched in a gesture of failure. "Am I jinxed today, or is this penance for getting a job on my own?" he asked no specified being, even though a bemused, if somewhat exasperated grin settled onto his features for what little time was left before the short stable boy arrived.
---
By evening, the "rumors" about the newcomer had spread like wildfire. A remarkably tall, broad Thai in appearance, but Scottish in accent? A bedraggled stranger with the charm and mannerisms of a high court noble, who had a most remarkable grin that seemed to become personalized for each individual he met; playful, friendly, serious, honored, bold, shy, proud and humble… it was hard to tell what was the truth and what was the lie at any given point, or if there even was a lie to his words. But there were two things that made their way about the most, creating such a stir amongst the servants.
Not only had this mixed-blood stranger dared to laugh before the lady (the incident over being called a thief was as yet unknown), but aside from her own wild Beastly, seemed to have made companions of every horse belonging to the Chenard household. Even the dogs had a liking for this strange man, the usually shy barn cats at least making themselves visible. Such a natural skill with animals, although a favorite was mentioned. "The horse is God's greatest gift to the earth," he had noted, a quote that had become memorable by the time twilight began to take over the sky. Such love was made visible as – upon discovering he was permitted to get cleaned up in the servant's area immediately took advantage of this offer, along with the spare clothes given to him – even as the kitchen was being cleaned from the evening meal he was once more at the stables, sitting on the gate to one of the stalls, stroking the nose of the chestnut standing within, perfectly calm about his situation and promised training of Beastly, his "Pa Hnung."
Oh of course… another few interesting quirks about this man with a gifted tongue that merrily danced around questions about himself to the point such things were forgotten. He had thus far given every horse and the cat new names from the local Thai language, but still managed to refer to them by their original names when asked. Kiet's courage was also singular; despite warnings, he had tried to meet Beastly on his own ground, but entering the stall had proved… well, not such a smart move. The animal had shied, and began to storm about, finally forcing the half-breed into retreating. What was so shocking was that the entire time, Kiet was laughing, almost as wild and crazed a sound as the horse's cries, the laugh fading into a chuckle as the two faced off on opposite sides of the gate, the horse not sure what to make of someone facing off against him. This had sprung the idea that the new horsetrainer was mad, or that the story was completely ridiculous and falsely made up by the stable boy who had been the only witness.
As it was, the stable was quiet save for soft munching of hay or whickering to one another, Kiet's presence having faded from a curiosity to being natural. The same could be said about the stranger; the smile that graced his lips was relaxed, the first of its kind shown since his arrival that afternoon, a lazy look to his eyes as he stroked the one mare's nose, her eyes slowly blinking as she was nearly falling asleep at the sensation, her head lowering closer to his lap. Despite being so desperate for his bath before, he was perfectly calm about his pant legs and now bare torso having been slimed by curious noses and lips, the smell of horse far more calming than anything he could think of, letting his own eyes close, resting his head back even as he continued stroking the mare's face.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 9, 2012 0:09:11 GMT
Nelly's shriek was satisfying. She hadn't planted her prank the night the stranger arrived. She had waited strategically. Talk was all around the house, she heard it through the walls. Somehow, word of his rude, and unpunished behaviour towards her had got out. Lucille, fuming, had immediately suspected that the stranger himself had gloated about this, proud of his defiance towards her. She disliked him from day one.
She had decided to wait, wait until talk of him died down. She would have denied it, had anyone asked, but it was about attention. If people were too preoccupied with the stranger, they would not talk about her prank. Lucille liked to shock people. Any attention, even negative attention, was good. She needed it. Breathed it. So she waited for the right time.
She thundered down the stairs, her bare feet slapping on the polished wood, her heart thudding in her chest with excitement, spurred on by adrenalin. The water had gone everywhere, and she could still picture the toad flying from the glass jug, the look of horror on Nelly's face, the shriek…
It was a slight overreaction, Lucille thought. It was only a toad, it wouldn't have hurt her. She would have giggled if she wasn't running for her life. The look on Nelly's face! She was still shouting after her, and her curses could be heard along the first floor.
**
She burst through the double doors, and didn't stop even as they cracked against the marble walls, the edges splintering and the doorframe shuddering. A few marble steps down, and then she felt the soft, cold grass between her toes. She didn't stop, but it was not out of fear of Nelly catching her. The most she could do was give her a clip around the ear anyway, and besides, she was 18 now, Nelly hadn't struck her for years. No, she ran because she found it exhilarating. A chance to stretch her legs, spend all this pent-up energy.
But then she had reached the edge of the garden.
Her father owned acres of land, but he had had a wall built around the mansion, so that enclosed within, the garden was a small haven that offered safety. As Lucille stared up at the wall, too high to even consider scaling, she did not see it as a way of keeping danger out, but a way of keeping herself trapped in.
She turned away, her foul mood returning, and headed towards the small pond instead. She spent around half an hour paddling her feet, letting the fish nibble her ankles, stroking their lithe, scaly backs, before she waded out and climbed back up the embankment. No-one from the household had come looking for her. Bored, annoyed, and dripping, she made her way toward the stable. Perhaps Beastly could cheer her up. The prospect of companionship lifted her heard, and her face lit up, even for the briefest moment. It soon disappeared however when she reached the stables.
The stable door was open. Either the stable-hand was inside, who she disliked intensely ever since she had heard him talking against her behind her back... or the stranger was still here, who was equally as distasteful. Her expression darkened, but she didn't falter in her step, walking towards the stable with the solid purpose of confronting him, pulling the door towards her fully as she stepped inside.
She was a little surprised to see his position, however. Topless, horse slather all over his glistening chest… she had never been more disgusted. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, allowing no misinterpretation of her feelings towards him. From the dazed, relaxed look on his face, she wondered if he were drunk. To be sitting like that, surrounded by these horses! The smell of horse piss filled her nostrils, completing the scene.
"You are still here?"
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 9, 2012 6:45:38 GMT
The sounds of the newcomer to the stables once more earned the attention of all the horses; a new oddity to sniff at and identify. The dazed look was not from drink, but rather sleep, so when she came in there was a moment he began to fall, and only because the horse he had been putting to sleep had gone to investigate Lucille's entrance he didn't spook the poor thing when he half fell off the fence, catching himself clumsily with one foot hooked on the edge, his opposite hand grabbing at one of the support beams as the free one waved wildly before he caught his balance.
As he recovered, however, he started laughing at himself, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his head, unhooking his foot with no attempt to hide the mistake. "Ah, good evening, mistress," he said with a surprisingly polite bow, considering how openly he had laughed at her "antics" before. However, the bow was shallow, immediately followed by his leaning back against the fence, the one mare sniffing at him curiously, wondering what had gotten him to nearly crash into the floor outside her stall. He also made no move to apologize for his appearance, perfectly content as he was, however inappropriate it was for such a household. But as he was born and raised in Thailand, he had little illusion about how to behave in his native land.
"Is there something I can help you with, mistress?" he asked after a few moments of studying her, again noticing that her skirts were wet. Was there some sort of problem on the grounds with puddles, or were the rumors he'd heard (mostly from the stable boy) true? His voice wasn't challenging, but even she might mistake his curiosity for something else entirely. She seemed… completely set against him from the beginning, although he had no idea why. If it was because of the laugh, well… despite her haughty feel of him, there was a little secret he had that was worth quite a bit, and he hadn't gone to the Chenard household by mere chance.
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 5, 2012 22:44:58 GMT
She appeared unamused at his display of unsteadiness, merely waiting until her had righted himself before she spoke. "Yes there is," She replied. She stepped forward, but it soon became apparent that she was not stepping towards him. As she approached, a curious nose dipped down towards her over the stall door, the horse snorting into her open hand.
"You could leave."
Her tone was bland and she didn't look at him as she spoke. Instead, she stroked the horse gently. Then, with a sigh, turned back to the man whom she still privately referred to as 'the stranger'. "But I suppose that is not going to happen any time soon." She leant up against a beam, a comfortable few paces away from him.
"How did you learn french?" She demanded suddenly, the question seeming to arise from nowhere. Since his arrival, he had greeted the household with their natural tongue and had never once shown a wish to slip into his own. Yet his appearance and his accent suggested that he was a native, so naturally, she was curious. However, her expression did not show curiosity, in fact, the way she looked at him squarely, as if challenging him, could be taken as incredibly rude.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 6, 2012 0:37:54 GMT
At her rude manner, Kiet merely watched with open curiosity, which quite frankly was probably just as insulting to her as her disdain seemed to be for him. Her behavior to him was stiff, angry and unyielding, and yet she was a gentle, tender creature with the horse that she now stroked, as if two women in the same body. Initially, he’d been willing to risk his subtle way into the manor simply to see an angry flush on those rosy cheeks, allowing himself to be amused greatly by her suspicion despite admiration for her strength. But this… perhaps he had been hasty in his judgment, just as she had been of him.
Lucille pulled herself against a post as he had, then almost challenged him on his French, the laugh of surprise smothered into a bemused smirk. “My parents raised me to be proper, mistress,” he replied most evenly, although there was just a hint that might be construed as teasing, considering who he was speaking to. Even though he answered her question, he remained vague enough to remain an enigma; “Learning the languages of Europe was included in that education.”
For a few moments, he studied her, rather intently and obviously, before asking a question of his own. “I crave your pardon, mistress… but have I done something to offend you?” he noted, as if ignoring his bouts of laughter before, but explained himself a moment later. “You have always seemed to hold great… disdain at my presence, even before we were introduced. Is there some way in which I could make up for whatever slight I might have done you?” For a native man, shirtless and happy in the company of the horses rather than people, his bearing suddenly became quite aristocratic; was this a side effect of learning European languages? Or was there something else to it?
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 16, 2012 22:29:32 GMT
Hey haughty attitude seemed to falter for a moment, as if she had been caught out. Obviously, she had not expected him to challenge her straight out. She sought for an appropriate, rude response befitting the wayward Lucille that the household knew all too well, but felt these rebukes turn to dust on her tongue even before she uttered them. Instead, much to her own surprise, a shred of truth slipped from between her lips. "Nobody rides Beastly."
It was not the explanation, but it was one explanation, the one that was troubling her most at the moment. For a moment, she felt the coldness she had first felt when she had heard mention in the household of the stranger's 'uncanny' gift with the horses, even Beastly. When she had first stopped riding Beastly, she hadn't expected that the creature would react as he did. She saw herself in him, the same defiant attitude, the anger. Only she could soothe him. So to hear rumours around the household that this stranger was getting close to the creature… She recovered herself quickly, however, raising her chin again in defiance. Her tone changed, and she seemed to revert again. "He hates strangers. He'll probably buck you off as soon as you sit on him." She added, curtly.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 9, 2012 5:44:11 GMT
The pleasant smile fell after a moment after her explanation, his expression turning into one of surprise as she continued. At least, for a few moments, she had silenced him. Seconds later, Kiet began to laugh, a much more genuine sound than he had used before, remarkably. There was… affection in his tone. “Ah, then please, mistress, allow me to set your mind at ease on that,” he managed to say as he recovered from the laugh, shaking his head a little bit. Had that been her worry?
“Your Beastly tolerates my presence so long as I am outside his domain. He is not one to be tamed. It’d be a pity to try,” he added with a surprisingly fond glance over at his stall, seemingly unaware he had countered his boast to Nelly about training the horse.
With a bit of that rogue smile on his lips, quirking at the corner, he pushed away from his post to walk up to Lucille in what looked initially like a bold move. Instead of reaching out to her, however, he merely leaned in a little, suddenly offering her a secret. “Actually, I’m not here for the horses. This is an experiment… a test to see how long I can last here on my own merit.” Something about the way he said this, however, showed he knew he would be staying. Why, exactly, he kept to himself as he pulled back again, making his way back into the stable to grab his shirt, which had been left on the ground in a pile of hay. He picked it up, and started pulling the pieces of straw off. Rather than being rude intentionally, Kiet had assumed Lucille would leave, either angered or annoyed by his words, or even working to plot against him. How to make up for her assuming he would take over her handsome stallion?
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 28, 2013 4:25:44 GMT
She appeared very suddenly annoyed at his words, her whole countenance becoming at once inflamed in anger. “I know that!” she snapped, as the stranger announced that Beastly merely tolerated his presence. He had turned away then, which only infuriated her further. Was this a game to him? Wandering onto her father’s estate and acting like he owned the place?
After a pause, she walked towards him, twirling on her heel before stepping before him. Suddenly, and perhaps to his surprise, she performed a short curtsy, and her whole countenance had changed sickly sweet.
“Well then, Stranger,”
Obviously, she was not yet ready to utter his name, almost as if it would mean she tolerated his presence here if she did. “I hope you have a wonderful stay.” She flashed him one of those smiles, a smile that would be charming if one didn’t know that there was a snake lurking in the grass. Then, without another word, she pranced away.
Evidently, this would not be the last the stranger heard of Lucille.
***
Lucille had decided to deal with the Stranger's presence by merely ignoring him. Whenever she saw him, she blanked him. Whenever anyone mentioned his name, she appeared confused and enquired as to whom they were talking about. His words fell on deaf ears. She pranced right by him, to her, he was but a ghost. He simply no longer existed in her world. It was incredibly childish… but that was Lucille. Just like a child, she ignored the problem. She ignored him and so, did not have to tolerate him. It was evident that she was coming no closer to accepting him as part of the household as she had the first day he had arrived.
She did not know if this bothered him, she did not care. But it bothered Nelly. As the weeks went by, her feelings of fondness towards Kiet merely grew, and as they did, her loathing for Lucille's foul attitude towards him blossomed. She was more impatient than ever, the smallest thing upsetting her. This, also, bothered Lucille not. What did bother her however, was Beastly’s condition. One day when traipsing about in the many acres that surrounded the home, he had stepped into a bear trap. How the bear trap had gotten there in the first place was of great concern to the household, but it was not a matter that Lucille concerned herself with. Lucille concerned herself with the one thing that mattered more than anything to her, and that was Beastly’s health.
Much to Nelly's disapproval, Lucille had slept in the stables that night with her companion. She didn't eat all day, and she also slept there the following night. But no more, for as she returned from an excursion around the grounds to stretch her legs, she found the stable door locked.
It was not spitefulness on Nelly's part. She feared for Lucille's safety with sleeping in the barn, with it's array of creepy crawlies, the rats that undoubtedly lived there and the horse leavings. She was also seriously concerned with Lucille’s lack of eating. The mistress in question, of course, did not see this, and there was much kicking and hysterical screaming when she had realized what Nelly had done, which only ceased when the stable hand forcedly removed her, and returned her to her room. Her room became her new stable. Despite the door not being locked, she didn’t leave it for three days... but at least she was eating. Beastly’s condition was reported to have improved, with only a mild infection marring his improving health. But with this new reason to hate the woman, Lucille’s foul attitude towards Nelly only grew. Lucille would constantly push against the bars of her cage, and Nelly would push back.
One day, Lucille pushed back with a surprising force.
It had been reasonably quiet in the household a few days prior to the incident…, which turned out to be a warning of things afoot.
All was quiet.
It didn’t last long.
There was the sound of tapping on the staircase. Loud, bellowing, deliberate, the heavy feet of someone trying to make as much noise as possible. The sound belonged to a pair of heeled, pale blue shoes, of which were wrapped round white, dainty feet, shrouded in the shadow of a blooming blue dress. White trimming trailed along the bottom, along with white, delicate fabric roses woven into the silk. Parts of the blue fabric had been hitched up to reveal a cascade of white layers, giving the dress a blooming look. The topmost part revealed a pale blue corset upon a white background, with pale pink ribbon stringing it together at the front. The sleeves were tight till they reached her elbows, at which point they flowed out in waves. Her blonde hair, usually disheveled, was pinned in tight curls close to her head with diamond pins, a few strands of loose curls falling from their pins and framing her face; of which was powdered, her cheeks glowing slightly from the dash of blush. With the clothing, equally with her makeup and the way she held herself- she looked to have aged and appeared no longer a child, but instead revealed the young woman underneath.
“Lucille!”
The gasp came from Nelly, her face already red and flustered as she gazed upon the young mistress, who never dressed up at any other point than her father’s return. Evidently, there was trouble afoot, and as usual Nelly was the first to spot it. The young lady lifted her chin, a true descendant of aristocrats, and walked pointedly past her, leaving behind her a trail of disarray as two Thai maids hurried after her with concern written upon their faces. Evidently they were the ones who had dressed Lucille up at her command, but at the look on Nelly’s face, they were now not so sure that Nelly had been as happy about this as Lucille had assured them... “I have ordered a coach. I am going out.” The young mistress announced. Nelly’s face was one of pure horror, and she rushed out after her.
“Lucille! You need an escort!” “I’ll be perfectly fine.” “Oh dear… But we must plan excursions like this! Who will stay to watch over the house?” “I am quite free to do so,” –The butler, from the door, evidently perking up at the idea of having a few more prank/nuisance free days. “No, no, no this won’t do! I was left in charge, I must stay! But... Who will go with her? Oh my oh my, then I must go...” “No Nelly, you’ll only fret. I will be fine. I will see you later.” All Lucille's words were spoken over her shoulder as she walked without halt towards the carriage that, as she had suggested, waited beyond the gate. The gate was already being opened to her.
Nelly looked towards the Butler, who shook his head quickly, bewildered. “I couldn’t! What am I supposed to do?” No, that wouldn’t do. The butler had as much of a hold over Lucille as a fisherman did over the weather. On the brink of despair, her face flushed in desperation of the dilemma, Nelly had a moment of inspiration, and hope lit up into her eyes as she rushed back into the house. “Kiet!“ She howled upon entering, her voice high with hysteria. “Oh where could he be…? Kiet! It’s an emergency!” Kiet was most knowledgeable, most clever. He would know what to do. He was Thai too, was he not? He knew the culture better than any. Oh, where was he!?
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