drabble for nikery
Jun. 5th, 2008 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrShe suggested Pierce and Silver of From Afar. It didn't quite work out that way, but sort of?
The Pretty Scholars
Silver adjusted his monocle as he opened the book Crispin handed to him, humming softly in pleasure and approval. "Exquisite. If you ever manage to convince your father to part with this, do tell me."
Crispin grinned. "I am afraid the only way he will part with it is in death, but given my brothers seldom remember the purpose of books, it likely will be mine to inherit."
"Then I suppose I shall have to begin convincing you to give it to me," Silver said with a smile.
"Not if I convince him first," said a new voice, and both men looked up to smile in welcome at the newcomer – Elias, who studied folklore and legends. Crispin had met him while pursuing his own art history degrees, when they had met over a painting pertinent to both their studies.
Silver had never been terribly good at focusing on one branch of study; he admired that they could. All three of them had met while seeking a rare volume of folklore etchings.
They all shared a love of rare books.
Currently they sat in their mutual club, meeting to examine the book Crispin had managed to life from his father for the day.
A debate quickly launched as they paged slowly and meticulously through the book, a work of legends and their likely historical basis, interspersed with drawings nearly as controversial as the theories themselves.
They were so locked in friendly, scholarly argument Silver did not really notice when the steward appeared with tea and accompanying snacks, merely noted that suddenly he was eating and drinking as he negated an outlandish theory proposed by Crispin.
Soft, familiar laughter finally broke through the arguing, and he jerked up to glare. "Pierce. What are you doing here?" Pierce was not even a member of this club; he would go mad with its scholarly setting.
Beside him, however, was Jude, who was indeed a member. They both wore fond, amused smirks. Pure mischief sparked in Pierce's eyes as he replied, "Jude and I have a bet going against Lord Bartholomew. We are meeting to ensure he loses."
"What are you doing to my brother now?" Crispin demanded, voice full of fond, tolerant amusement as he looked at Jude.
"Nothing he didn't ask for," Jude replied, as full of mischief as Pierce.
Silver rolled his eyes. "If Lord Bart comes after you, do not expect assistance from me, Pierce."
Pierce merely laughed. "No fears, but he will not come after us. Are you three having fun? We only meant to retrieve something Jude forgot here, but when the Steward mentioned the Pretty Scholars were here, we had to stop in and say hello."
"The what?" Silver demanded, wondering just who in blazes Pierce was calling pretty and if he stood a chance of ruining the man. "Who are you talking about?"
Jude threw his head back and laughed, catching Crispin's hand when Crispin attempted to swat him.
Pierce grinned. "The Pretty Scholars," he repeated, eyes bright with mirth. "Three brilliant scholars, arguing over a book in the middle of their club, and looking entirely too pretty doing it." Pierce winked. "Though of course, you are the loveliest of the three. No offense to the other gentlemen present."
Silver glared, ignoring the fact that his cheeks suddenly felt hot. "Pierce," he hissed. "Go away."
Laughing, Pierce blew him a kiss and turned away, Jude snickering quietly beside him. "Yes, my star. I'll see you for dinner tonight."
"Maybe," Silver muttered, glaring at his departing back for that 'my star'. He was going to make Pierce stop saying that, one of these days.
Elias snickered. "Shall we return to finding fault with your theories, Silver?"
"Oh, I'm not the one at fault," Silver declared, and the debate began anew.
And because I don't think anyone who know Elias, and I would feel bad not explaining him a bit better, here is all I have so far of his story (I don't recall if I posted this ever, and if I did it was ages ago).
Pretend You Love Me
Aaron stood just outside the dining room of the club and asked himself again if he thought this was a good idea.
The answer was still no.
So he asked himself if he had any other choice if he wanted to be spared the living hell of the Calloway house party.
Much to his regret, the answer was still no.
Still he tried to think of something else, if only because if this failed he was well and truly sunk.
Oh, it would be easy enough to purchase someone to play his lover for a week in the country, but too many things could go wrong there, too many awkward questions to face…and if he really wanted to stick it to the bloody bastard he dreaded seeing again after three years, he needed a peer.
Someone to take the bastard by surprise, stop him short.
Ideally.
Certainly no one would expect him to be enamored of the man he was hoping to convince to be party to the charade Aaron had in mind.
Charade because he had most definitely sworn off lovers. It seemed to work fine for other people, the whole one and only arrangement…not so much himself. Aaron had never quite figured out what he was doing wrong, though he’d at least been able to admit the problem must reside with himself. He was the only common element in all his attempted relationships and all had ended in humiliating catastrophe.
The first one he’d caught with another in his own bed.
The second had seen his real true love in the middle of a ball.
The third had run off with his secretary.
The fourth had left him for a woman.
It was the fifth, though, who had really left a mark.
“Well of course I’m leaving. You’re a wonderful lark, Aaron, but it’s time I moved on to something more serious now.”
Shoving the memories aside, Aaron finally forced himself into the club. He nodded and murmured politely to those who hailed him, but did not stop until he reached the very back and the man sitting at a small table tucked into a secluded corner of the room.
Elias Sexton, youngest son of the Earl of Willoughby. Accounted a severe eccentric because of his passion for books and ancient, dusty things. Even in school he had been obsessed…even now he was reading while he ate, fine silver spectacles perched on his nose.
Behind the books and the dust and the spectacles, Elias wasn’t a bad specimen. His mother had always been acclaimed a Beauty of society, and her youngest son had inherited those looks – though with a decidedly masculine edge. His features were cut sharp, so too the lines of his body. On a woman such a build would have been described as delicate or willowy, but on Sexton it only seemed in keeping with his quiet, no nonsense manner.
His hair was the pale blonde usually only seen in children, an oddly…whimsical shade for someone so severe and simple. Against the fashion of keeping hair long, Elias kept his rigidly short. A pity, Aaron could not help thinking, but then again the severe cut drew one’s gaze straight to the china-blue eyes poorly hidden behind the spectacles.
They had been roommates in school, and gotten along tolerably well for men with very little in common. Every now and then they nodded to one another, spoke briefly when trapped at the same affair, but that was all. Which made his scheme all the madder, but he did not exactly have a lot of options, did he?
When Elias finally looked up, Aaron was gratified to see him smile in greeting – if a bit in confusion. “Trafford. What brings you here this evening?”
“I was hoping to speak to you on…rather a strange matter, actually.”
“Oh?” Elias asked. “Well, it can do no harm to hear you out. Do please sit.”
“Thank you,” Aaron murmured, and ordered a whiskey when a server came to the table. “What book are you reading this evening, Sexton? I would have thought you’d have been through the library twice already. Having a third go?”
Elias smiled briefly and placed a marker in his book before setting it aside. “Indeed. This one was special ordered from the continent, an examination on how the old faerie legends there developed.”
“Your favorite subject, if I recall correctly.”
Genuine pleasure flashed for a moment across Elias’ face, and Aaron was pleased he could do that. Elias had always taken far too much ribbing for his literary obsessions. “Quite so. I am flattered you recall.” Elias paused as the server brought the requested whiskey. “Now, then. If you are making odd requests of me, Trafford, after we’ve scarcely seen each other in so long…I can only imagine you have gotten yourself into a bit of a scrape.”
“Yes and no,” Aaron replied, fiddling with his glass. “It is more that I am rather hoping to thumb my nose at someone, but lack certain necessary elements to do so.”
“I am a necessary element in your revenge scheme?” Elias asked, beginning to look amused. “Do please elaborate, Trafford.”
Aaron nodded. “I have been invited to the Calloway house party, and as they are good friends of my father’s I dare not refuse. However, I have also received word that a former lover will be there, one I was rather hoping never to see again.”
“So the rumors of you and Montgomery were true, then.”
“How the devil…” Montgomery had preferred discretion above and beyond all things. Too late, Aaron had realized it was because he preferred everyone not know of his latest ‘lark’, as it would tarnish his chances at something ‘serious and permanent’.
“My mother breathes gossip the way we mortals breathe air,” Elias said dryly. “I presume you and Montgomery did not part on the best of terms?”
Aaron nodded. “You presume correctly. His parting words left a foul taste in my mouth, and I am hoping rather desperately to prove them wrong at this house party. I do not want him to have the satisfaction of seeing he was correct.”
Just because he probably was correct, though Aaron could not fathom why, didn’t mean he intended for the bastard to know that. It had hurt – more than he liked to admit – but he would not give Montgomery the satisfaction of seeing that hurt.
Even if that meant crawling in here and hoping he could convince Elias to assist him.
“Do tell how I can assist,” Elias said, mouth curving in faint amusement. Aaron could not help noting it was quite a fine mouth. Thin lips, pale and soft-looking, the sort that would look a thousand times finer wet and swollen with kisses.
Reminding himself sternly how stupid it was to notice such things, even about a man who was hopefully going to be playing his lover for the next week, Aaron steeled himself and finally explained what he wanted and why he was asking Elias.
“I do not think, Sexton, that I could ever ask anyone but you. If you refuse me, I at least know you will not laugh in my face.” Aaron smiled weakly. “I do not want Montgomery to see me exactly as he said I would likely be – utterly alone.” Since most men their age wanted either a night or a lifetime, not an extended lark. Montgomery really had been a bit of an ass, in the end. Aaron wished he’d seen it sooner. Ah, well. “I am rather hoping you will agree to play the role of my lover for the length of the house party.”
Elias chuckled. “Much as you played mine that night at the tavern? Though a week is a bit longer than a few hours…”
“I know, and it’s a bit forward of me to ask such a thing.”
“No,” Elias said thoughtfully. “I can understand your thinking, and I am a proper choice. In a little over a week I am leaving for the continent, everyone knows that. It would be perfectly normal if we chose to spend our last week together at the house party before we are forced to go our separate ways, since as the Marquis Trevelyan you can hardly go off traipsing about the world and I cannot cancel plans I’ve putting together for the better part of a year.”
Talking to his father was never this easy, Aaron could not help but notice. Talking to his lovers had never been this easy. Everyone else he knew would have laughed or ordered him away, Marquis or no.
“All in all, Trafford, it’s quite a clever plan.”
Aaron flashed a relieved grin. “I am glad you think so, even if you are about to say no. Though I should mention here that I have suitable recompense for your indulging me in this need to salvage my pride.”
“Oh?” Elias asked. “What recompense might that be?”
Lifting his hand, Aaron motioned for a footman and sent the man to fetch the parcel he left waiting in the hall. He returned a moment later with a large, rectangular object wrapped in parcel paper. Thanking the footman, he held the parcel out to Elias.
“A book?” Elias asked in amusement. “You had better hope it is not one I have, or I shall be forced to refuse on principle, Trafford.”
Aaron grinned in the way his mother had always said made him look like a little boy, knowing it made him look like an idiot, but unable to help himself. It was so very rare he got to give anyone anything, even if it was more of a bribe than a gift.
Elias looked at him in curiosity, then slowly unwrapped the package, pulling away the brown paper.
The way his jaw dropped when he saw the book was a moment Aaron would remember for a long time. He had not known giving the book to Elias would be this much fun.
“Trafford…how on earth…” Elias caressed the cover of the antique volume. Made centuries ago, it was a highly-prized work of the legends Elias so dearly loved, hand-written and accompanied by delicately painted images. Many were faded, a few all but gone, and attempting to read the old lettering had given Aaron a headache…and even his considerable allowance had winced a bit, but stumbling across a chance to obtain the volume had been one he could not pass up.
Seeing the face of his old school chum as he held it, Aaron decided it was worth every last copper. Even if the man still said no, he would not regret the expenditure.
Though he would really be much happier if Elias agreed to help him.
“Well, Sexton, are you sufficiently bribed?”
Elias dragged his eyes away from the book, and gave Aaron a smile that made his breath suddenly catch. “I think under the circumstances, my dear, you had best call me Elias.”
The Pretty Scholars
Silver adjusted his monocle as he opened the book Crispin handed to him, humming softly in pleasure and approval. "Exquisite. If you ever manage to convince your father to part with this, do tell me."
Crispin grinned. "I am afraid the only way he will part with it is in death, but given my brothers seldom remember the purpose of books, it likely will be mine to inherit."
"Then I suppose I shall have to begin convincing you to give it to me," Silver said with a smile.
"Not if I convince him first," said a new voice, and both men looked up to smile in welcome at the newcomer – Elias, who studied folklore and legends. Crispin had met him while pursuing his own art history degrees, when they had met over a painting pertinent to both their studies.
Silver had never been terribly good at focusing on one branch of study; he admired that they could. All three of them had met while seeking a rare volume of folklore etchings.
They all shared a love of rare books.
Currently they sat in their mutual club, meeting to examine the book Crispin had managed to life from his father for the day.
A debate quickly launched as they paged slowly and meticulously through the book, a work of legends and their likely historical basis, interspersed with drawings nearly as controversial as the theories themselves.
They were so locked in friendly, scholarly argument Silver did not really notice when the steward appeared with tea and accompanying snacks, merely noted that suddenly he was eating and drinking as he negated an outlandish theory proposed by Crispin.
Soft, familiar laughter finally broke through the arguing, and he jerked up to glare. "Pierce. What are you doing here?" Pierce was not even a member of this club; he would go mad with its scholarly setting.
Beside him, however, was Jude, who was indeed a member. They both wore fond, amused smirks. Pure mischief sparked in Pierce's eyes as he replied, "Jude and I have a bet going against Lord Bartholomew. We are meeting to ensure he loses."
"What are you doing to my brother now?" Crispin demanded, voice full of fond, tolerant amusement as he looked at Jude.
"Nothing he didn't ask for," Jude replied, as full of mischief as Pierce.
Silver rolled his eyes. "If Lord Bart comes after you, do not expect assistance from me, Pierce."
Pierce merely laughed. "No fears, but he will not come after us. Are you three having fun? We only meant to retrieve something Jude forgot here, but when the Steward mentioned the Pretty Scholars were here, we had to stop in and say hello."
"The what?" Silver demanded, wondering just who in blazes Pierce was calling pretty and if he stood a chance of ruining the man. "Who are you talking about?"
Jude threw his head back and laughed, catching Crispin's hand when Crispin attempted to swat him.
Pierce grinned. "The Pretty Scholars," he repeated, eyes bright with mirth. "Three brilliant scholars, arguing over a book in the middle of their club, and looking entirely too pretty doing it." Pierce winked. "Though of course, you are the loveliest of the three. No offense to the other gentlemen present."
Silver glared, ignoring the fact that his cheeks suddenly felt hot. "Pierce," he hissed. "Go away."
Laughing, Pierce blew him a kiss and turned away, Jude snickering quietly beside him. "Yes, my star. I'll see you for dinner tonight."
"Maybe," Silver muttered, glaring at his departing back for that 'my star'. He was going to make Pierce stop saying that, one of these days.
Elias snickered. "Shall we return to finding fault with your theories, Silver?"
"Oh, I'm not the one at fault," Silver declared, and the debate began anew.
And because I don't think anyone who know Elias, and I would feel bad not explaining him a bit better, here is all I have so far of his story (I don't recall if I posted this ever, and if I did it was ages ago).
Pretend You Love Me
Aaron stood just outside the dining room of the club and asked himself again if he thought this was a good idea.
The answer was still no.
So he asked himself if he had any other choice if he wanted to be spared the living hell of the Calloway house party.
Much to his regret, the answer was still no.
Still he tried to think of something else, if only because if this failed he was well and truly sunk.
Oh, it would be easy enough to purchase someone to play his lover for a week in the country, but too many things could go wrong there, too many awkward questions to face…and if he really wanted to stick it to the bloody bastard he dreaded seeing again after three years, he needed a peer.
Someone to take the bastard by surprise, stop him short.
Ideally.
Certainly no one would expect him to be enamored of the man he was hoping to convince to be party to the charade Aaron had in mind.
Charade because he had most definitely sworn off lovers. It seemed to work fine for other people, the whole one and only arrangement…not so much himself. Aaron had never quite figured out what he was doing wrong, though he’d at least been able to admit the problem must reside with himself. He was the only common element in all his attempted relationships and all had ended in humiliating catastrophe.
The first one he’d caught with another in his own bed.
The second had seen his real true love in the middle of a ball.
The third had run off with his secretary.
The fourth had left him for a woman.
It was the fifth, though, who had really left a mark.
“Well of course I’m leaving. You’re a wonderful lark, Aaron, but it’s time I moved on to something more serious now.”
Shoving the memories aside, Aaron finally forced himself into the club. He nodded and murmured politely to those who hailed him, but did not stop until he reached the very back and the man sitting at a small table tucked into a secluded corner of the room.
Elias Sexton, youngest son of the Earl of Willoughby. Accounted a severe eccentric because of his passion for books and ancient, dusty things. Even in school he had been obsessed…even now he was reading while he ate, fine silver spectacles perched on his nose.
Behind the books and the dust and the spectacles, Elias wasn’t a bad specimen. His mother had always been acclaimed a Beauty of society, and her youngest son had inherited those looks – though with a decidedly masculine edge. His features were cut sharp, so too the lines of his body. On a woman such a build would have been described as delicate or willowy, but on Sexton it only seemed in keeping with his quiet, no nonsense manner.
His hair was the pale blonde usually only seen in children, an oddly…whimsical shade for someone so severe and simple. Against the fashion of keeping hair long, Elias kept his rigidly short. A pity, Aaron could not help thinking, but then again the severe cut drew one’s gaze straight to the china-blue eyes poorly hidden behind the spectacles.
They had been roommates in school, and gotten along tolerably well for men with very little in common. Every now and then they nodded to one another, spoke briefly when trapped at the same affair, but that was all. Which made his scheme all the madder, but he did not exactly have a lot of options, did he?
When Elias finally looked up, Aaron was gratified to see him smile in greeting – if a bit in confusion. “Trafford. What brings you here this evening?”
“I was hoping to speak to you on…rather a strange matter, actually.”
“Oh?” Elias asked. “Well, it can do no harm to hear you out. Do please sit.”
“Thank you,” Aaron murmured, and ordered a whiskey when a server came to the table. “What book are you reading this evening, Sexton? I would have thought you’d have been through the library twice already. Having a third go?”
Elias smiled briefly and placed a marker in his book before setting it aside. “Indeed. This one was special ordered from the continent, an examination on how the old faerie legends there developed.”
“Your favorite subject, if I recall correctly.”
Genuine pleasure flashed for a moment across Elias’ face, and Aaron was pleased he could do that. Elias had always taken far too much ribbing for his literary obsessions. “Quite so. I am flattered you recall.” Elias paused as the server brought the requested whiskey. “Now, then. If you are making odd requests of me, Trafford, after we’ve scarcely seen each other in so long…I can only imagine you have gotten yourself into a bit of a scrape.”
“Yes and no,” Aaron replied, fiddling with his glass. “It is more that I am rather hoping to thumb my nose at someone, but lack certain necessary elements to do so.”
“I am a necessary element in your revenge scheme?” Elias asked, beginning to look amused. “Do please elaborate, Trafford.”
Aaron nodded. “I have been invited to the Calloway house party, and as they are good friends of my father’s I dare not refuse. However, I have also received word that a former lover will be there, one I was rather hoping never to see again.”
“So the rumors of you and Montgomery were true, then.”
“How the devil…” Montgomery had preferred discretion above and beyond all things. Too late, Aaron had realized it was because he preferred everyone not know of his latest ‘lark’, as it would tarnish his chances at something ‘serious and permanent’.
“My mother breathes gossip the way we mortals breathe air,” Elias said dryly. “I presume you and Montgomery did not part on the best of terms?”
Aaron nodded. “You presume correctly. His parting words left a foul taste in my mouth, and I am hoping rather desperately to prove them wrong at this house party. I do not want him to have the satisfaction of seeing he was correct.”
Just because he probably was correct, though Aaron could not fathom why, didn’t mean he intended for the bastard to know that. It had hurt – more than he liked to admit – but he would not give Montgomery the satisfaction of seeing that hurt.
Even if that meant crawling in here and hoping he could convince Elias to assist him.
“Do tell how I can assist,” Elias said, mouth curving in faint amusement. Aaron could not help noting it was quite a fine mouth. Thin lips, pale and soft-looking, the sort that would look a thousand times finer wet and swollen with kisses.
Reminding himself sternly how stupid it was to notice such things, even about a man who was hopefully going to be playing his lover for the next week, Aaron steeled himself and finally explained what he wanted and why he was asking Elias.
“I do not think, Sexton, that I could ever ask anyone but you. If you refuse me, I at least know you will not laugh in my face.” Aaron smiled weakly. “I do not want Montgomery to see me exactly as he said I would likely be – utterly alone.” Since most men their age wanted either a night or a lifetime, not an extended lark. Montgomery really had been a bit of an ass, in the end. Aaron wished he’d seen it sooner. Ah, well. “I am rather hoping you will agree to play the role of my lover for the length of the house party.”
Elias chuckled. “Much as you played mine that night at the tavern? Though a week is a bit longer than a few hours…”
“I know, and it’s a bit forward of me to ask such a thing.”
“No,” Elias said thoughtfully. “I can understand your thinking, and I am a proper choice. In a little over a week I am leaving for the continent, everyone knows that. It would be perfectly normal if we chose to spend our last week together at the house party before we are forced to go our separate ways, since as the Marquis Trevelyan you can hardly go off traipsing about the world and I cannot cancel plans I’ve putting together for the better part of a year.”
Talking to his father was never this easy, Aaron could not help but notice. Talking to his lovers had never been this easy. Everyone else he knew would have laughed or ordered him away, Marquis or no.
“All in all, Trafford, it’s quite a clever plan.”
Aaron flashed a relieved grin. “I am glad you think so, even if you are about to say no. Though I should mention here that I have suitable recompense for your indulging me in this need to salvage my pride.”
“Oh?” Elias asked. “What recompense might that be?”
Lifting his hand, Aaron motioned for a footman and sent the man to fetch the parcel he left waiting in the hall. He returned a moment later with a large, rectangular object wrapped in parcel paper. Thanking the footman, he held the parcel out to Elias.
“A book?” Elias asked in amusement. “You had better hope it is not one I have, or I shall be forced to refuse on principle, Trafford.”
Aaron grinned in the way his mother had always said made him look like a little boy, knowing it made him look like an idiot, but unable to help himself. It was so very rare he got to give anyone anything, even if it was more of a bribe than a gift.
Elias looked at him in curiosity, then slowly unwrapped the package, pulling away the brown paper.
The way his jaw dropped when he saw the book was a moment Aaron would remember for a long time. He had not known giving the book to Elias would be this much fun.
“Trafford…how on earth…” Elias caressed the cover of the antique volume. Made centuries ago, it was a highly-prized work of the legends Elias so dearly loved, hand-written and accompanied by delicately painted images. Many were faded, a few all but gone, and attempting to read the old lettering had given Aaron a headache…and even his considerable allowance had winced a bit, but stumbling across a chance to obtain the volume had been one he could not pass up.
Seeing the face of his old school chum as he held it, Aaron decided it was worth every last copper. Even if the man still said no, he would not regret the expenditure.
Though he would really be much happier if Elias agreed to help him.
“Well, Sexton, are you sufficiently bribed?”
Elias dragged his eyes away from the book, and gave Aaron a smile that made his breath suddenly catch. “I think under the circumstances, my dear, you had best call me Elias.”
