Troubled Waters

19th of Resolve, in the 5th year of the Reign of Yale Redwater, Alshain Magna

Jamilla Laurent looked at her husband, settling into her grav-chair as he ate his eggs in silence, a slight smile tugging against his lips.  Jamilla had fallen in love with Salamah a dozen times, and she figured that smile had been a part of every single one of them.  She loved her husband, wildly, madly, and that smile, a bit smug, but also confident, and (mostly) unplanned, it was one of the things she loved about him.

Of course, to love was not to claim perfection, and on her worst days she began to see how, when faced with the world, Marcus had crawled into a bottle.  On her worst days she loved him the way he loved most of his family: out of a sort of resigned acceptance that this was the way things were, and that no matter how he feels about them he also loves them.  On other days, of course, loving him was far easier, far less painful.

What she didn't understand is why he didn't love her back--or, why, when she sat down and allowed herself the rare opportunity of telling herself the truth, that was the conclusion she came to.  Many days, of course, she could delude herself long enough to love him as a being with few faults, if any.

But he was so closed off, beneath his charm.  His childhood, his family, his sister, his home-planet, she had learned to negotiate a mine-field of topics that would cause him to close up, to retreat behind formalities.

And she knew he had cheated not all that long ago.  What else could explain the surprise visit to Circe, could explain the messages her spies had carefully reconstructed about a meeting with "Charlie."  She wondered what such a woman had that she didn't--because, not to be too vain, she was intelligent, well-bred, had a first-class education and, by the standardized definitions, she was beautiful.  Was it her pale skin, was there some feature he didn't like, or some part of her personality that repelled him?

Jamilla understood that love was a complex thing, that often one had no choice in that matter, and she could even accept with a tearing heart that he didn't love her.  What baffled her was that he wasn't even attracted to her, at least, he didn't seem to be all that often.  In the heat of the moment, perhaps she told herself that the sex meant lust, or pretended to believe the lust might be a symptom of love, but as often enough she allowed herself to be distracted and played with by her desire for Salamah's body not because she was a fool, but because she was desperate and lonely and loved him and wanted him even if it wasn't the way she wanted to want him.

All of this was the context by which she decided, that blustery and cold--did Alshain Magna not have a blustery, cold day, not that it mattered, enmeshed as they were in their womb of a home--morning, to ask him, "Honey, what are you doing?"

He looked up and said, "Attempting to check all the available men of the right bloodline.  I have had enough of Audrey, and at this point I'd marry her to a homeless bum...if he'd treat her right," he amended, since he didn't want to wish misery on any of his family.  "Perhaps one of my courtier friends..."

"No!  She is to marry into Nobility, or not at all," Jamilla insisted, "Trust me, I know them, those so called former friends of yours, and they are like sharks,  they'll latch onto her, destroy you, and benefit nobody."

"They'd just marry her and discard her for her name, her position..." she trailed off, Salamah looking at her bizarrely, as if he was confused.  He touched her shoulder, and she found she was nearly crying. Crying because was he really all that different from them, then, was he?

After a moment, he stood, and, after leaning in to speak some words to her ears only, left, unable to bear it.  She stared at the data-sheet.

He had whispered, ever so quietly, "I don't want to despise you, I didn't mean..."

Sometimes the right words just wouldn't come.

Visualize Your Future Wealth Potential

25th of Faith, in the 5th Year of the Reign of Yale Redwater, back on Alshain Magna

It was a remarkable human capacity, the ability for individual happiness to pop like soap bubbles.  Just a few weeks before he had been among the Houses of the Galaxy, eyes aimed at the next election, at power, and despite some problems it had gone more well than ill, and he now had two new allies, though these were bonds that could be strengthened.

He had a niece, perhaps he could find a marriage for her...and he was making more money.  There were a million paths open to her now, if only she could use them.  If only he didn't have to deal with bullshit.  He looked up, his smile pleasant at Vincent, as unkempt as ever, and asking HIM for money.  He had a thousand things he could spend the 25,000 Solars on, let alone the profits the mines were starting to bring in.  Even if it didn't take money to make more money, he could donate it to a thousand causes he would view more worthy than the religion of 'Sathraism.'

"So, uh, Your Grace, what do you say?"

"Why," Salamah said in his even voice, "Do you not spend your own money?"

"What do you mean."

Salamah smiled and said, "If you can think of a profitable business-plan in whatever field you wish, I will give you the money, incorporate you under me, and allow you to put a certain portion towards your religious...goals."

It was that simple.  Either Vincent backed down, and at least that was done with, or he made Salamah a lot of money and was actually useful, after all.

Vincent seemed sobered but said, "I think there are some bulk-trades that might make some profits...not a massive amount, the southern area, it's..." he shook his head, "I-I'll do it," he coughed on the table and said, "Ugh...sorry, been feeling off, think I caught a bug.  But..." his eyes alit and for a moment he was almost compelling, "A chance to see the stars, the galaxy, and make money to help Sathraism.  I might even start some Missions."

"Missions?"

"To spread the word, but only if this only works out!" 

Salamah stared at him.  He smelled like he had forgotten to bathe.  Vincent did that sometimes.  Well, what could he say, "If you get me the proposal, I'll look through it, and sign it."

He was as good as his word, and so was Vincent.  Like his cousin or not, they were family, and Vincent was a smart man--when he wasn't pissing everyone off.

Cast:

Duke Salamah Laurent, age 49:  The exasperated if polite head of the Laurent family, his ethos of "family first" is often frustrated by his dislike of so many members of his family, though he'd never show it, he's too socially cued-in.

Vincent Laurent, age 37:  The enthusiastic, often unwashed, somewhat unattractive Cousin of Salamah, he found the Faith of Sathraism and has tried to convert everyone he's met to it--and failed.  He is now the head of Mercantile.

Frustration

With the events of the last while, the Forum RP has been pushed to the back of everyone's minds, meaning it won't advance.  In the spirit of desperately wanting to move on, I might soon start posting the stuff I have afterwards on an every-two-day schedule.

RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part X

Laurent

Jamilla looked pleasently surprised. "Perhaps you would like to talk to al-Saffah, to confirm we are all on the same page. And I can tell my husband of our plans." Salamah was in charge, but at the moment she was calling the shots by default. "If you would follow me?" she asked, hoping Selina would agree. 

ser Noche

Nora stood by the tables of food, occasionally picking up small snacks as she watched the young nobles mingle with each other. It was livelier than most of the recent announced parties and festivities, and she was glad for it. She smiled, and let the proceedings unfold.

However, after a little time, a servant quietly slipped in through the door from the hallway, and walked up to her with some urgency in his stride. He whispered something in her ear, and for a moment a paleness came over her face. She nodded, and whispered something back. The man walked out of the room again, off to Gods knew where, and Nora resumed her friendly smile. She calmly walked over to one of the lush seats and sat down, arranging her skirts slightly to fall neatly alongside her legs.

Sternseher

Selina would only nod and follow along, pursing her lips as she considered the third party in their group. She'd not had much of a chance to interact with al-Saffah, but hopefully she could get a good impression of him shortly.

As she made her way by, she smiled politely over to Nora, nodding to her once more. It was a lovely function after all, even if it wasn't the sort of thing she typically indulged in.

Laurent

alamah was about to reply to Bundar when he saw his wife approach, followed by the Sternsehers. Confused, he pulled his wife aside and they talked. At first, for all that they were far enough from the others that words couldn't make out, he seemed angry and incredulous that she had usurped his authority. Slowly, though, this transformed into curiosity, and then interest and finally he nodded and said, "Your Highness, may I introduce you to her Grace, Selina Sternseher? Perhaps you two might get acquainted, and talk over an idea that they have hatched. 

Introductions done, he left--not even realizing the absence of Marcus--and went over to the food table. There were several reasons for this. First, that he was hungry and the food looked good. Second, that he was polite, and just as importantly, really, it would give him cause to compliment Lady ser Noche. He ate in a well-mannered way, savoring the food and then, when done, he made his way to Nora ser Noche. 

He gave another one of his flawless bows and said, "I thank you for your hospitality and food. It was simply exquisite. I myself wish to give you a gift myself, one less solid than that from Sternseher, but quite important, I would think. It is something of a delicate gift, and it might be preferrable for me to confer it in private." 

"Although," he added, "I can present it here should you wish so."

ser Noche

"Thank you, I do hope everybody is enjoying themselves. We don't get a lot of visitors here," she said with a small curtsy in return. As he spoke about a gift, Nora nodded. "If you would prefer a private conversation, might I suggest we retreat to the annex room? We can talk privately there, the walls are sound-proofed." She gestured to the far wall, where a door stood slightly open towards another room in similar decoration, with a slightly thicker carpet in dark red plush.

Laurent

"That sounds like an excellent idea," he said, and with a bow he led the way. Now, he would have been more careful around a rival, would have at least had said rival lead the way in first, but, really, if ser Noche wanted him dead, it didn't have to lure him into a backroom. It could, just as easily, infuse the air with neurotoxins whose cures everyone who Nora ser Noche desired to live could be discreetly slipped, and then it would be a simple and tragic illness. 

In other words, the ser Noches were rich and powerful enough that worrying about stepping into a room first was the least of his worries. 

And, of course, a distant second in his reasoning was the fact that he thought he had reason to trust Lady Nora ser Noche. 

A very distant third as he walked--he glanced back to see that she was following--was that he trusted her. 

Once they were in the room, he turned, closed the door, and waited for Lady Nora to get settled.