My Little Soul Will Leave A Footprint, Arik

[Joscelyn Stormguard]

She walked slowly down the hallway, the pads of her fingers trailing the wall beside her. Her eyes were half-lidded, predatory. Her entire self was impeccably designed for maximum favor: a beautiful, wine-red dress that plunged low in the front, forcing attention on the creamy whiteness of her decolletage. She wore a tight necklace strung with rubies, making her neck seem swanlike. It denoted an innocence she did not have, and she doubted he would fall for that ruse in particular, but it was an effect she enjoyed all the same.

Her hair was only half-up, since she hadn't left the house yet. It had a partially-undone quality that was supposed to remind him that she was sexual, and he did find her attractive, despite their personal differences over the years.

The layout of the house was not as known to her as Stoneridge, and occasionally she found her eyes wandering over the unfamiliar walls of the hallways, the decorations picked out not by her own tastes, but by one of Arik's maternal ancestors. The whole place felt strange and almost hostile to her, but she refused to personalize it to her own tastes -- refused to consider this house as anything more than the most temporary of homes.

The door of his study was as forbidding as the one back home, however, and she showed it as much respect as she always had: without knocking, she entered, closing the door behind herself.

"Arik, my love," she said, casually saying the lie of an endearment that she'd used with him for too many years. Even when they were alone, it was hard to break the habit. "I would like to speak with you, if you're free." Allowing him to control the time of their conversation; another gambit for eventual favor.

[Arik Stormguard]

He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand.

For someone used to being in the best of health, a cold did not suit Arik Stormguard. His face was pale and pinched, and his eyes were swollen. The tip of his nose burned red, a handful of handkerchiefs strewn around his desk the culprits. He couldn't taste anything, he couldn't breathe. It was rotten and he hated it.

Sniffing, he collected the bundle of letters that had come from Sathyr. He'd read a few before folding them up and putting them aside for later. Land disputes in the main. A request for an audience from some headman. Minor things.

Sathyr, it seemed, could survive without Arik after all.

He forced out a cough and sniffed. His hand ran across the nose once again. It was only when he'd cleaned the drippy moisture with a handkerchief, that Arik noticed he wasn't alone.

He jerked his head up at the intrusion.

“What?”

Red eyes narrowed, quickly taking her in.

[Joscelyn Stormguard]

He was sick. She hadn't been aware, but then, it had been a few days since she'd properly seen him -- they were both busy people.

Sickness was something she could never truly abide by. It repulsed her. The heat, the infections, the random discharge of bodily fluids... and then, to make it all worse yet, they were all contagious. She'd even been unable to visit Kale when he'd taken with a fever at the age of thirteen, although she'd overseen the nurses attending to him from three or four rooms away. She still cared for her son, after all.

It took real effort not to let her revulsion show at this moment.

"If you're sick, you should be lying down," she suggested. In a locked room, where you won't infect the hallways. Forcing herself to move closer, she reminded herself of why she was there.

Coming to a stop in front of his desk and praying that he wasn't exhaling all sorts of contagions at her, Joscelyn ran her fingers along the smooth wooden surface. "I would like to host a party in celebration of the royal marriage." She wanted to be the first to do so, to immediately make it passe for anyone else to even attempt it. Unfortunately, it would require money, which she wasn't really allowed to spend quite so lavishly without her husband's permission.

[Arik Stormguard]

He knew she was repulsed. He didn't blame her.

But the fact she continued to stand there—continued to talk—meant that this was more important that some frivolous pastime on her part. With that dress on, it could never be.

She told him about her ideas for a celebration. If possible, his grimace turned even darker, the corners of his lips pulling back in distaste. Astraea and Sven both knew his position on their marriage. While he hadn't come out to explicitly say as much, the impression was there. Astraea would be an idiot to miss it. The Duke of Sathyr was not at all pleased with the way the new couple had manoeuvred into this.

But then again, throwing a pointless party was expected—and far be it for his wife to disappoint on that front.

“That might seem a little dishonest...coming from our household.” He sniffed and tossed his head back, dislodging some of the stuffiness he felt.

[Joscelyn Stormguard]

Joscelyn remained standing, ready to leap back if he started doing any pre-sneeze inhales. She hated being sick. The implied weakness, the miserable headaches...

Clearing her mind of such thoughts, she pretended to take in his minor objection and think it over, although in reality she'd expected it. "True, but since glowering in disapproval didn't work and they did, in fact, get married, it would be the perfect opportunity to smooth things over with our sovereigns." She was not planning on having the whole family fall out of favor.

She looked at him, and then immediately away. She hated to see him like this.

"Besides, it is a Duke's position to show their support of the royal family, is it not? And they are a family, now." Surely he couldn't be disapproving of the fact that there was now an heir to the throne.

[Arik Stormguard]

Well he was disapproving. He could see Astraea's long fingers probing into the heart of Escova now, leaving her mark for generations to come. And now with Sven's children in line of succession..

It was just a mess, really.

She'd played her hand well, that Queen.

He looked up at her and reaching for a handkerchief. Glowering, he blew into the cloth and then pulled back slightly. “Fine,” he muttered. “Anything else?” The Gods of Escova knew she couldn't stand being around him when he was healthy--how she managed now was a miracle.

[Joscelyn Stormguard]

He blew his nose and she struggled to keep her expression clear of outright revulsion. Mucus, membranes, bodily fluids-- all things she reviled with the utmost intensity. It would be many long weeks before she'd be able to clear this vision of him from her head, and for that duration their conversations would be colored by it. Dukes should be above sickness, but then, Arik was hardly above much.

However, she got the nod she was waiting for, and she was itching to be free of him. "No. I'll plan it for the next weekend after this coming one." That would give her enough time to make it grand, and also get the invitations out early enough so that everyone who mattered could come up with something new to wear.

But she had to be quick, before someone else got their invitations out first.

She wasn't sure how to say goodbye without feeling compelled to mention his sickness, which she refused to do if she could help it. So she merely turned towards the door, trying to inhale shallowly so that she did not breathe in any illness.

[Arik Stormguard]

He wanted her to leave, but then, did he really want to give her the satisfaction of escape? She would be free of him and she would be happy. Arik couldn't stand that. So he reached out and snapped his fingers around her little wrist, forcing her to stay with him.

“Where are you going?”

[Joscelyn Stormguard]

His fingers closed around her wrist, and she fought the need to recoil away from what was probably a swarm of germs crawling up her arm. Turning back to face him, a little surprised that he'd stopped her at all -- she'd supposed that he would be as glad to see the back of her as she was to see the back of him -- she blinked up at him. "Elsewhere," she said, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't really thought about where she was going next. Either her bedroom or one of the parlors. "Unless my impromptu house arrest is now localized in your study?" Her eyes narrowed slightly.