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destinyfell2016-07-18 12:16 am
meteorrains) wrote in destinyfell2016-07-18 12:16 am
» Action Four | Cloud And Tifa «
[It seemed as if the world was spinning impossibly fast, twirling rapidly around it's axis in such a way that made time seem to move much quicker than average. Somehow, without truly realizing it as he had lived it, the entirely day had passed within the blink of an eye. Party after party, all which absolutely required his attendance. Each with a multitude of people who had not seen in years, all welcoming him home, all congratulating him on leading their army to victory. All praising him for managing to make it through a nasty war which had claimed many lives unscathed.
Learning that he was being gifted his own household located in the city as a present from his father had come just as dinner was about to begin, everyone raising a glass and cheering as the news was announced. He had nodded in acceptance, had thanked his father profusely for this grace and generosity, had listened to endless speeches of how lucky he was to have such a noble and wealthy family.
All he wanted in the entire world was a soft place to lay his head, to sleep knowing that peace had fallen over the land, that despite the previous years of suffering, he was finally safe.
Slipping his shoes off, he placed them upon the mat directly inside the door, closing it behind him and moving further into the house his father had chosen. It was well decorated, tasteful and bright, perfect for someone who would soon be searching for a wife. His chamber was easy enough to locate, the door slide back into place carefully. Each garment was peeled from his body slowly, until nothing the pants remained. Something cracked along his spine as he moved, muscled sore and stiff and for once, he wished he had stayed at his fathers estate. At least there he would be able to take a warm bath, or have one of his fathers servants message the area for him.
Sighing softly, he lifted a hand to rub gently at his neck, stretching slightly, before resuming the motion, trying to ease away the ache.]
Learning that he was being gifted his own household located in the city as a present from his father had come just as dinner was about to begin, everyone raising a glass and cheering as the news was announced. He had nodded in acceptance, had thanked his father profusely for this grace and generosity, had listened to endless speeches of how lucky he was to have such a noble and wealthy family.
All he wanted in the entire world was a soft place to lay his head, to sleep knowing that peace had fallen over the land, that despite the previous years of suffering, he was finally safe.
Slipping his shoes off, he placed them upon the mat directly inside the door, closing it behind him and moving further into the house his father had chosen. It was well decorated, tasteful and bright, perfect for someone who would soon be searching for a wife. His chamber was easy enough to locate, the door slide back into place carefully. Each garment was peeled from his body slowly, until nothing the pants remained. Something cracked along his spine as he moved, muscled sore and stiff and for once, he wished he had stayed at his fathers estate. At least there he would be able to take a warm bath, or have one of his fathers servants message the area for him.
Sighing softly, he lifted a hand to rub gently at his neck, stretching slightly, before resuming the motion, trying to ease away the ache.]
no subject
Listening to his talk to the servants today and remembering last night, she thought - the adjustment from war lord and camp tents to a household himself in high society must be an awkward thing. He had gone off to war so young - and the war had lasted so long. She had known that his father was buying her contract to make his son's way in society a little smoother, his household more genteel but perhaps she had not considered how her danna himself felt about things. Or at least, not enough. The fact that he was concerned for his footing showed that he respected both his name and his household. It was a gift, not a weakness. One of her hands moved, a subtle, graceful shift, a signal to the watching servants that they should bring the tea, but as they turned to fetch it, while they were still as private as two people could be in the common dining room, her other hand turned. Showed her danna the inside of a pale wrist. An intentionally vulnerable gesture no less graceful for the lack of a fan.]
Great lords are allowed - eccentricities. [She said it as if she was speaking of observations or fairy tales instead of a personal suggestion.] It would, in fact, be considered strange, if a new lord didn't have certain things he personalized as differences in the way he wished to be served from the standard. [Her dark eyes slipped sideways to look at him as she paused. Watching for a moment before she added gently:] Servants take great pride in being able to tailor their service to their lord's desires as much as his needs.
no subject
Once, perhaps, in a life time that had come before, that had ended abruptly when he'd walked away from his last battle, when he'd stepped over his last fallen comrade, when he'd looked into the eyes of the last innocent he'd saved, before the end of that world and the beginning of this one, he had been a great warrior.
Lord was nothing more than a title handed down from his father, given to the first born son. Nothing more than a benefit of being born into such a family, nothing more than a safety net in which to fall back on. There was nothing great about being given a title you hadn't earned, of coming to it through inheritance instead of will.
A great swordsman. A great fighter. A great captain. A great friend.
All titles that had been earned, through hard work and sheer determination. Not handed to him upon a silver platter, not coming with the expectation for him to suddenly transform into something he was not.
A door slide from it's place, opening slowly, a line of three servants entering one after another, bowing as low as their heavily laden trays would allow. Food of all sorts were laid upon the stout little table, offerings of tea and drink, plates and utensils carefully laid in front of two singular places. The arrival forced him forced him from his thoughts, forced his attention back into the moment.]
Thank you. [Perhaps it was odd for him to be thanking them for their service, for perform as they had been hired to, as their lots in life had demanded. But if they were appreciated, if they felt respected, they would far exceed expectations.] You may go.
[It was only once they were alone that he shifted away, choosing a place around the table to call his own, settling against the plush blue pillow.]
I have agreed to begin working with my father in the afternoons. To begin to learn what will be expected of me once his duties are passed on. [He'd rather be training, be passing his knowledge on to those who may one day make use of it.] Your time shall be your own while I am gone. But I - [Hesitating, he wondered briefly if there was some sort of boundary he would be stepping across, if he would be taking things too far with such a request.] I would prefer if you not entertain other's company.
no subject
A lord was a lord. Born from peasant stock, she viewed them very differently than they probably viewed themselves. Her geisha training had not stunted that. Because - if she had not become a geisha, they would never be sitting here in this moment. A noble did not dirty his meal with common earth and sparrows did not sit on branches made for falcons. What they had had as children... if the fire had not taken her to ash and him to blood - adulthood would have. Save this. This saving. This chance of luck and face that had led her to the one place a woman could step outside society and be free. He was a lord with absolute command over every life in his care. And as a lord he could curse it or cherish it. She thought it was one of the highest responsibilities a person could own, and one of the most easily abused.
And then the pot, half raised to pour, paused, and she went very still.
He overstepped. He overstepped perhaps even worse than she had last night. As her danna, he was her client. Her prominent client but still - a client. He had no place to ask her to give up her lifestyle and her profession. A geisha's contract was sacred. At least one as highly ranked as hers was certainly more impervious to abuse than a lower ranked one would have been. She let the silence fall inside her mind -
and her hand lifted, a shift of a slender wrist, and she poured his tea, sending steam and aroma into the early morning air, other pale hand balancing it by pressure to the lid.
She had every right to refuse him flatly, danna or otherwise, though face forward refusal could cause all kinds of other problems for her. Though - she thought she could survive well enough if it came to that. It wasn't why she didn't immediately though. The silence was still thick inside her chest and she let that steer her over what her mind informed. So she simply set the tea pot back in its place once his cup was full and rested her hands loosely in her lap. Her dark eyes rose to watch him and there were no walls or harshness in them. He had her curiosity over her caution for the moment.]
Why would you ask that of me, danna?
no subject
It was strange how closely this resembled a battle, each leading with carefully considered tactic. Only he had been given the advantage that came along with a wealth and privilege, with respect and a title. If he wanted, he could refuse her, could turn away from her. Could shame her. Could ensure that no one else purchased her contract. Could do any great number of things that would cause a great deal of difficulty.
His father would be disappointed, would likely have unkind, scolding words to offer in light of his sons decision. But another would be found, another contract would be purchased, and they would begin again.
But he wasn't that cruel, had spent so much trying to keep himself from becoming that hardened. If she were to refuse his request, he would accept it, would not stand in her way to do as she wished. And he would watch her, would always be mindful of the words he spoke, of the things that he told her, for fear that someone may try and use her to gain access to the information he and his family were privy to.]
Perhaps it is wrong of me, to view you all as I did my men. As extensions of myself, of my name. To want you to feel pride when asked who it is you serve, instead of fear. [Fear may had gotten obedience, but it would never bred loyalty or respect.] You are free to do as you wish, always. I will not stop you if you should chose not to honor my request. But I would greatly prefer to have you be loyal only to myself.
no subject
Silent and still, she listened to his answer and thought it wasn't much of an answer at all. How very far away they were from each other and the childhood that was nothing but last years vanished autumn leaves falling on dark water. She did wonder though, how much contact he would have had with geisha before this. War fields and conquered towns and winter camps were not the places for her kind. If he had never been attended by a true geisha before she would not be surprised. He would only know stories and perhaps half-guess at those, trying to find the truth behind the tales. Because she thought she saw an inkling of what he was pointing at and -
and it was insulting.
Which meant he either realized it was insulting, he didn't, or he'd meant something entirely different that she'd failed to comprehend. And, whatever he'd meant in his oblique way, the point was still the same. He was asking her to give up not just her profession but her future as well. She let his words sink in, sat without offering anything at all, as still as frozen water for a very long moment. This could easily be the pivot pin of their entire relationship, this one moment. Finally her hand moved, a slow sweeping gesture that brought the rice bowl and his empty rice cup to her. Watching what she was doing she began to fill it. One very small pinch at a time. Her voice was low. Telling a story.]
When a girl is very young, her family sells her to a geisha house. She works very hard, as a servant, scrubbing, washing, cooking, carrying. If she sparks though - if she sparks the mother of the house will take her under her wing and teach her what she needs to know to begin to hope to become a geisha one day. It is hard work. Harder work. A girl will spend hours a day in the large classes, going over her work again and again, fighting to be the best, to be noticed. And then she will go home and she will continue to practice. A girl will pluck music strings while sitting outside in the snow long past sunset, careful not to get their blood on the box of her instrument. She will dance so long and hard that the backs of her legs will clench and claw at her all night long. Her wrists will grow swollen, her back will never stop hurting, her neck is always uncomfortable. She remakes herself by tearing herself apart and she will do this for years. Years and years. Until finally, if a girl is good enough, if a girl is lucky, if her mother's house has a good reputation and the right connections, an established geisha will agree to mentor her, will become her older sister. And then she will follow in her older sister's shadow for many years, watching and listening, always learning. She learns the names of the tea house mothers, the other maiko, the other geisha. She learns the names of politicians and soldiers, generals and daimyo. She, perhaps, is present when her older sister entertains at the shogun's residence one evening and is given a beautiful obi for being young and pretty and making him laugh. And, when she is finally ready to become a geisha, the young girl has a vast debt to pay off of all the time and attention that has been poured into her for those many years. Her name is her house's name, her mother's name, her elder sister's name and she must carry them all, perfectly, gracefully and without any effort, all the days of her life. To dirty herself is to dirty all of them and to spit into the hard work of a lifetime. She carries not just her own honor, but the honor of everyone that has invested their lives into hers. It is sacred.
[With a pause, she raised her eyes to him, black in the white of her face. Then she set the full rice cup in front of him, chopsticks gracefully across it.]
One day, you will marry. One day you will have children. I never will. All I will ever have is my reputation. A geisha can build her own house and train her own girls if she has money and her reputation. They are her children, her future, her old age security and comfort. Money alone is not enough to build a house and bring in children. Only a woman's name can do that. If you sweep me from the face of my profession, my name will be forgotten and by the time I am dismissed from my work here, there will be no house and no children and all the money you could give me will not buy me more. I will give you my loyalty because you are the path I have agreed to travel and if you say it pleases you that I should lose my name, I will do so. You are my danna, the one I have chosen to follow because I believe you are worth following. Your name is my name and as carefully as I guarded the names of my mother and my sister I will guard yours. My reputation comes to you spotless and well trusted by everyone that has come before. All I ask is that you, in turn, as my danna, assure me you understand exactly what you are asking me to give up when you ask me to let my name die in the circles that will one day be my future.
[Reaching out she set the bowl of fruit before him and her voice went softer. For the first time, there was a slip in the veil that she had carefully kept between them. Her voice wasn't entirely geisha and when she said his title it sounded like his name. Her hand moved on the table and it was almost a single finger's touch to the side of his hand that never came close enough.]
Danna... when I took your name to protect, I gave you mine for safe keeping in turn. Throw it away if it pleases you, but tell me you realize at least the hard won value of it to comfort me first before you let the my only pearl drop into the sea.
no subject
Such things had already been drastically delayed by his own doing, by his own choices, by the war he had fought and won. Time, in the minds of those who mattered, was already quickly running out. Twenty four and not a single marital prospect in sight. To those outside, the situation would seem almost dire, as if there needed to be some great rush to find him a partner before what was left of his youth was wasted.
Truly, in their minds, being the wife of a powerful man, of a celebrated soldier, feared and respected with wealth and influence would be a lucky turn of events indeed. To live in a large house full of servants, to have nothing more expected of you than to be beautiful, to be present, to have children. There was a line a mile long of willing partners, all hoping for their turn, for their chance to be chosen.
And there he was, trapped in the eye of the storm, vultures preparing to descend at the first hint of weakness, pressuring dragging downwards until it was nearly enough to drown.
Be like your father. Marry a beautiful woman. Give her children. Carry on your name. Your name is all you have.
Your name and your memories and your regret and your shame and your sorrow.
He wanted to tell her, wanted to counter that once there had been a boy, young and naive, who had entered into a dangerous world he knew nothing about. Of nights spent in the snow, training with the rough wood of a practice sword, until bare feet became frost bite and hands bleed from cracks so deep they never truly healed. Of days spent in the rain, bitter cold biting against skin, muscles so weary they could barely lift the heavy metal of a weapon and swing it properly. Of breathing taking moments of acknowledgement, of being celebrated for the first time, of being handed all of your dreams, all of your wishes upon a silver platter.
Only to find all of your accomplishments had been gained because of the suffering of others. Watching those around you die, smelling their blood upon the dirt, looking downwards and seeing upon your hands, your clothes, your sword.
Of how he could smell it even now, tainting floral jasmine and hot, steaming rice. How he never quite felt clean or whole or warm.
But he didn't. Didn't want to burden another with those thoughts, with those memories, with those jagged, shattered pieces of himself. If he could make other's believe that he was whole, perhaps he would begin to believe it himself.]
Willow. [Those eyes had never strayed from her face, had never stopped watching each careful movement, memorizing each, accessing each, trying to discern what secret, hidden meanings might be contained within each one.] If that is the future you wish for yourself, then I will not take it from you. Your path is your own to decide, and I will not take the choice from you. I will hold your name within my heart and protect it as I have protected my own.
If that is what you wish, then I will make it so. When your time with me is done, I will ensure that you and those who will become your children are given the finest of everything. Your name will be as clean as it is in this moment. Your reputation will be vast and sought after. If that is what you desire, when our paths should split, then I will make it so.
[Allowing silence to fall over them, thick and heavy, his attention finally drifted, taking in the various offerings that had been place before him, and finding that he no longer held any appetite. It hadn't been his direct intention to insult her, to start off their partnership as he had. There was no undoing this moment, no forgetting, no changing. It was what it was.]
no subject
If she had had to give up a husband and children of her own body and love - than she had.
Her eyes had lifted to his when he started to speak though and if he had searched her mask of a face, just as closely she searched his and the endless blue of his eyes as he spoke as well. Searching, trying to see what was behind and hiding under what he spoke. Because, yes, she had won and she would keep her freedom - but her time here was about so much more than that. She had meant it when she had said she was here to serve and protect him and there were so many more ways a geisha could do that then the surface gave away. This could not be her win, not unless it became his as well. For now, and for a very long time to come, her fate was tied intimately to his.
And, perhaps, she just imagined the shadows and sorrow in his eyes. Perhaps she just pretended that perhaps he felt as trapped and lost as she had when her world had suddenly shifted from what she had known to the utterly foreign and lost feeling of coming to the Floating World. Perhaps... she remember too much a little boy with grand dreams and gentle words...
But a geisha did not triumph unless she brought those in her care with her. So she raised a single long finger to her lips, pursed them for just a moment, bitter cherry red and ice snow white and her eyes danced for him, sunlight on waves. For a moment she was light breezes and water bubbles for him but underneath the soft silk remained for him.]
Hush, lord. No one is supposed to realize that geisha are not born instantaneously from moonbeams and fireflies. You can never tell anyone that I admitted we are actually trained and that one day we all become old wrinkled women with untrained geisha of our own.
It was just a light joke of course. Anyone that bothered look knew the truth but - she thought, first hurtle over between them, it was all right. She realized she had not seen him anything but serious and thoughtful since he had come back and if she had not seen him much, still - he had always been a serious boy too. Lonely and alone, even when surrounded by others. That memory overlaid her present one, that he had changed his course for her sake and yet - there had been a reason he had asked her to set aside her profession in the first place and surely it was still there. He had just stumbled with her and, as staunchly as he had come to her side after, she wondered if he was still sensitive enough to feel the stumble. Her face softened and her eyes darkened just a little. Geisha had a freedom that others didn't and because of that she could, very lightly, very gently, close the distance between their hands and rest the tips of her fingers, with their koto calluses on her first and second finger, against the curve of his hand. It was not quite a curve, not enough to be holding his hand which would have been far too intimate - but it was something that offered almost the same and her eyes held his face in them. Her voice was soft and low, intimate just for him.]
My danna, I thank you for guarding over me so gently. My future is safe with you. My trust was well given. Now let me do the same. You will be expected to give parties, to introduce yourself to the bureaucrats and samurai and politicians and merchants and lords of this city who do not know you by anything but reputation. Your father cannot help you with this without sweeping you under his shadow. [Her eyes searched his, offering what she hoped might be a solution to his not wanting her to keep clients and yet his promise to make her name great.] I do not need to attend clients in teahouses if I am attending your guests well enough to keep my name breathing. If you will give your public gatherings and entertainment to me, I will always be within your sight and your hearing and yet I will be free to do everything I would if I was hiring out privately. And you - you will not need to worry yourself with the latest fashion or whether something is currently favored or not in court. Give them to my hand and I will make sure you approve of what I plan and then make it happen for you.
[It was the memory of the little boy on the edge of things as well as his acceptance of being greeted alone his first night and his desire to care for himself in the morning that had her gently adding:]
I will promise to make them well enough spoken of that you will be able to have many more nights of quiet for yourself than usual and your house to yourself and those you hold close more nights than most men are allowed. I will give you the single flower that is more noted for its beauty by itself than the field that is quickly blurred and forgotten in memory. And you will have my services for yourself alone all the years that I will live with you.
no subject
As much as he may have wanted to protest, may have wanted to rebel against what was proper and what was expected, he knew better than to tempt fate. All of his life he'd lived knowing how very lucky he was, how fortunate he had been to have been born to a noble family, one who's very name was both respected and feared. To have been born to wealthy parents who had been able to afford to flee before the small village they called home was destroyed. That his father had been able to cull out another place for himself within the hierarchy of the city. That all of it would one day, very soon, far sooner than he'd ever expected, be handed to him upon a silver platter.
The wealth. The name. The title. The respect. The prestige. The power. All of it would be his without ever having strived nor worked for it.
He had fought long and hard, won difficult, never ending battles, had forced the impossible to become possible in order to earn his place among the samurai. His armor had become a symbol of his pride, of his honor, his sword an extension of himself, of his heart and of his sword. He'd earned their respect, had earned the loyalty of his men. Had honored those who had seen their work through until it's end and had proudly rode with them back into a world in which they no longer had a place within. Had buried those who had been lost, had written letters of condolences to grieving widows and families who had lost far more than they ever should have been asked to give up.
That was his place. Not here, not with this false title, not putting on airs to satisfy people who only cared about superficial vanities and how they may come to benefit from his false friendship. To have her handle it, to give it all over into her hands, to only have to put on that mask from time to time while still fulfilling his duties as his father's son was like a whispered promise he almost didn't dare believe. Like sweet music after silence had reigned for far too long.
It was quite a promise.]
My fathers birthday is in a month's time. If I were to host his celebration, it would set the tone for those which are to come. Everyone who knows my father will be expecting an invitation, and if I were to show them what you have spoken of, it would leave them with a good first impression to carry away, and something other than the fact that I have yet to enter a courtship to speak of.
[Naturally all of those who were in attendance would bring their daughters, their nieces and cousins, all of which were unmarried, all of which would see him as a prize to be won. None of which he would have any interest in. He didn't want nor need another pretty face, nor a soft, willing body to sink into. If that was all he desired, he would have taken on a mistress long before this moment. Whomever he choose would have to be intelligent, would have to know the ways of the world, would have to understand the horrors he had seen, had faced, had fought and won against. Would have to be strong willed and determined, quietly nurturing, calm, kind and compassionate.]
It should be elegant without being stuffy. Classy without putting on too many airs. Everything should be of the highest quality without appearing so. My father very much likes to appear as if he is a simple man with simple taste, modest to a fault while still showing off. [It would be quite a feat to pull off, something in which even his mother had never fully mastered, despite how hard she had tried.] There is a geisha under my father's employ. If you speak to her, I am certain she will be able to tell you the various foods and drinks he would prefer, since I have long since forgotten them myself.
If you are able to do as you say, if you are able to make this the most beautiful flowers that blooms within a field of snakes, then I will do as you have asked in return. Your name will be as well spoken of as mine. [And then, eyes lowering under thick lashes, the first hint of a smile crosses his features.] And perhaps, because you are young and beautiful and there is a chance that you may still make me laugh, I will present you with a gift. An obi is your preference, correct?
no subject
You're asking a geisha to be subtle and elegant in something she does? [Her eyes didn't wrinkle, it would have marred her perfect makeup but the edges of her lips curved and her pointed chin tipped just a little to the side for him.] I think as first tests go, I might be able to measure close.
[Her eyes softened but the whisper of a smile stayed at the edges of her lips, almost lost in the white paint and she gave a small bow, eyes closing for a moment. It revealed the small patch of pale painted vulnerable skin at the back of her neck.]
I thank my lord for his trust in me and will not fail that trust. Your father's celebration will be fitting for someone of his tastes and will free you from speculation and other gossips for a time of peace. Both before and after.
[Because she was trained for nuance. And she'd heard a great deal of it in what he'd said to her. That his father had a geisha was good news but more informative than that - 'field of snakes' and the way he referred to his lack of courtship. She - would have been married off years ago, to some boy in the village whose family had a connection to hers. She had never regretted missing that thread of fate. Perhaps... she was not the only one that longed for freedom... And, in that, she would always have more than he. It hurt her heart for him - but that was private and she didn't let it show, focusing instead on something simpler and less invasive of his privacy.
He was an alarmingly attractive man but that hint of a smile and the look through his lashes made him dangerous to a woman. She felt the pleased thrill of that down her palms and over the backs of her shoulders.
And he wanted to give her a gift. One as personalized and one of a kind as an obi no less.
Of course if she did her duty to him well, he would give her many gifts over the years. Enough, most likely, to live comfortably off of if she never saved a single coin herself her entire service to him. Geisha were used to being given gifts. It was what one did, for artists and things of beauty. But the first gift... the first gift was special. Always. And so much more so from her danna.
And even more so because this was a gift before she had truly earned it. A gift because he realized she had offered her triumph back to him or perhaps simply for the relief of having social duties he did not want taken off his shoulders or - perhaps - simply because she was pleasing to him and his heart needed to express it. Any of those reasons was good. But each one came from a very different place. She reached for her own rice bowl -
and cocked an eye at him from the side.]
You laugh, my lord?
[And then her own eyes hid behind dark lashes for a long moment before her chin turned and they lifted just enough to look at him through them. The look was feminine and not exactly safe because of that fact. Her voice was silk sliding down on a polished wooden floor.]
I have many preferences, danna. But an obi from your hand would please me deeply.
no subject
Those words alone were like a whispered invitation, begging to be answered in turn with another well spoken tease. Accompanied by that look, eyes dark and burnt coal, peaking up through thick lashes, full of secrets and mystery and knowledge they became dangerous, no longer quite holding the same offer they would have alone.
This first offering was by far the most important, would set the tone for each that would come after. Choosing the proper and perfect offering was only part of the equation - it had to be something appropriate, something that she would find pride in, something that she would enjoy seeing and knowing that it had come from his hand. Something that she could show off, both as a sign of her own triumph, but of his families wealth.
The meaning behind it, the reasoning for giving such a gift played a much quieter, muted role, one that only they would ever be aware of. A beautiful obi given for making him laugh. A necklace offered for throwing a stunning affair and pulling it off without a hitch. A hair clip for hosting a dinner party and helping to entertain those who were considered important.
A kimono because she was beautiful and pleasing to him, or because she had proven she could hold each of his secrets and never allow them to slip.]
I have been known to. [How long had it been since he'd laughed and actually felt any joy behind the action? Surely the night before he'd laughed, acting the role of the perfect returning son, finding amusement in each jest and antidote.
A harsh, overly mirthful fake laugh. One that was exactly like his fathers, rehearsed into perfection.]
I will leave the preparation to you. I will provide an ample amount for anything that may need to be purchased. Each servant, should they perform well, will also receive a small compensation. [It was their duty to serve him, but there was much work to be done if they were going to throw a proper party, especially of the sort his father would be expecting.
Without thinking he reached forward, quickly selecting a small bottle of soy sauce, drizzling a small portion onto his rice, mixing it quickly with his chop sticks before beginning to pursue the offerings that sat before him.]
I will have to meet with my father for a time this afternoon. While I am gone, if you will, I would very much appreciate you locating a tailor. It is alright if I must go to him, but I would prefer one in the city. I trust that you will find one who offers good quality of work. Each servant will need several sets of garments in the colors I have asked, and I will myself will be needing quite a few pieces.
[His father had provided him with a full wardrobe, all in styles that he himself preferred. None of them were actually suitable or held any level of comfort. For now, he had no other choice, besides wearing the clothes that he had returned with. Torn and dirty and bloody.]
Afterwards you may do as you wish. I will be home not long after night fall.
no subject
Once he started eating it signaled a transition and so she let herself as well. She would need her energy. This upcoming month until the party was going to be very challenging. It would be her first real test - but even more than that, it would reflect on him and she would not let that be anything less than perfect.
Soft hums of sound answered his instructions, showing she had heard and understood and would see his instructions followed. Some would tell him that offering a reward to his servants for doing their duty was spoiling them but she thought it showed kindness and care.
She would weed out anyone that would take advantage of his generosity. His father had no doubt picked very carefully when he'd set up the household for his son but there was never harm in evaluating for herself. One mismatched servant could throw off the wa of the entire household.
Her eyes did light up, just a little, at the acknowledgement that he would need new clothes. The ones he wore were - attractive but he did not move in them the way she thought a man comfortable with his body as a soldier must be would. And - she thought - with the right clothes he could easily move from compellingly attractive to dangerously so without being aware of it. That was a good thing. Dangerously attractive men were given a bit more time to exist outside of marriage. It intimidated the fathers of some and made the fathers of others more willing to stretch the political and social dance that led up to an opening offer.]
I have two tailors in mind. I can arrange interviews with them for you here if you will tell me a time that is pleasing to you this week.
[She did not have to worry that they would be too busy or refuse. A new arrival on her danna's level to the capital, with his mysteriousness and history would have them jumping at the chance to be sponsored by him. Especially when it would be such a profitable connection as well as a politically powerful one. If they pleased him and dressed him well, they would not lack for clients in a hurry to follow whatever trends his new clothing set.
Another small bow of her head to show her gratitude for his giving her her freedom for the rest of the day - and she would need all the free time she could hoard and more if she was going to present him with something worthy at the end of the month.
And then her eyes slipped sideways to look at him and the whisper of the smile touched the edges of her red painted lips.]
If I may offer a suggestion to my lord... when people begin to ask what you are doing for your father's birthday, please say 'something simple' and nothing more. [The light danced in her dark eyes, mischief, but something swam, deeper and quieter, under that.] No one will believe you and they will be so busy guessing what you truly have planned that they will forget to guess at anything else about your life for a month.
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His father, at least, had chosen one thing incredibly well.]
Please, choose which is your favorite, and ask if they would be available mid morning tomorrow. [While it may have been incredibly short notice, it was one of those few things he would not mind having his name used for.] If it should turn out that they are not suitable, then we will pursue the other.
[There were no thought of producing the latest sought after fashions, of becoming a trendsetter who everyone would set out to emulate. Only the knowledge that he would never be able to perform hours of rigorous practice in the thick woolen linens his father had provided.
According to his father, to his family, all need for training, for exercising years of accumulated muscle memory had ended with the war. Worn sets of katana now sworn proudly, decorating the wooden walls of his home. Broken blades displayed in cases littered among his father's most prized possessions, so each time an important businessman or politician came to call, he could show them off and speak of his son's sacrifices ad if they were his own. All having seen war, all stained red with the blood of countless enemies, now relegated to nothing more than relics of the past.
Except for those carefully wrapped within the clothes he had returned in, hidden away within the safety of his room. Those in which would not be displayed, those in which would be cared for and used, should the need ever arise. Settling for the heavy wooden imitations used to train young samurai's wasn't ideal, nor would sneaking out in the dead of night to the courtyard, hidden away from the street and those eyes which might try to pry.
But it would keep his father's nose firmly where it belonged.
Her suggestion was an excellent one, and would leave everyone who chose to inquire guessing, giving them something to talk about other than the state of his private affairs. A soft smile crossed his features, eyes flickering upwards to glance upon her own, fire and ice dancing with that same mischief.]
How clever of you. [There was a certain hint of amusement there as well, although it was far from the laugh she seemingly desired.] I am glad then, that you are on my side. [Such a mind would make her an formidable ally and a dangerous opponent.] It will be interesting, to see what sorts of outlandish things they come up with while they are all left wondering.
[But it would keep those who thought to make introductions to their daughters and nieces and cousins at bay for the moment, eagerly awaiting the tone which this first affair would set.
Time began to wear onward, and having had his fill, he gracefully finished the now chilled and forgotten tea which had been thoughtfully poured. If he was late in arriving at his father's offices, it would only arouse questions of why.]
It is getting late and I must meet my father. He will rather disappointed if I am not on time. [Voice laced with something close to disdain, as if his entire being fought against his coming actions.] If you will, please have a bath and night clothes prepared for me when I return. Then, if it pleases you, we can dine together once more.
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she thought she felt a bit of what she had been told their arrangement could be.
It had the light sparkling up through the cherry shadow in her eyes and the very edges of her painted lips curling upward for him. She didn't take his praise lightly either. Cleverness counted for so much more than beauty to her. Being valued for her cleverness even more than that.
She heard the war in his voice next though and knew that her previous thoughts hadn't been off the mark. He was not comfortable in his civilian life and its new shackles. Not comfortable with his new place in things. How idle did his hands feel, without his sword or a horse's reins in them? Perhaps... she could find a way to give him other weapons... other enemies to fight...
there were certainly enough in the aristocratic world.]
Yes, lord. [A bow at his request, an affirmation that everything would be ready when he returned. His desires were simple to see through but she had a great deal to begin and, some of it, she hoped, would be far reaching. Seeing him for dinner, she found, was something that gave her a light to look forward to. It was a pleasant realization. Her eyes teased as she rose.]
Though if your father thinks he did a good job in choosing me, perhaps he would not be so disappointed if I was the reason you were not on time.
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And a great deal of his fathers own special brand of purportedly good natured teasing about how he had sampled the forbidden flower and how proud he was of his sons prowess and virility. Barely home a day and already following in his fathers footsteps and partaking in the servants.
He'd rather bare the brunt of his father's disappointment.
Lifting himself from his previous position, stretching almost without thought, long arms lifting above his head, a soft sigh releasing from his lifts as the movement eased sore, aching muscles.] My father thinks that all of his choices are good ones. Usually, he does not have quite this much success. [He was completely convinced, in fact, that choosing her had been one of the only truly good decisions his father had ever made, at least where his son was concerned.
Leaving the calming, playful presence she provided was already proving difficult. Moving on from her wit and intelligence and into a world ruled by who was most talented at manipulation and word play would prove even more so. But there was nothing that could be done for it, at least until he found a placement of his own among the aristocratic society he had returned to. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he would be given an office of his own, or offered a position training the new recruits who would be drafted to replace those who had been lost. Peace may have fallen over the land for the first time in decades, but that did not mean it would remain.
It would not stop those who sought power from invading, would not stop those who wished to destroy what had been built from trying. It was important to use this respite to prepare, to ensure the next generation wouldn't have to fight such long battles, wouldn't have to see so much death and pain and horror.
Dipping his head forward into a small nod, a show of respect that he offered to everyone, even those who were, by societies standards and technicalities, thought to be below him.] Until tonight, Willow.
[Voice quiet, words accompanied by a soft smile before he swept past her, calling out for his horse to be prepared and brought around as he went.]