Fortune Cookies are Sadistic
Aug. 22nd, 2005 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fenellaIn Carthak, he was sure, they did everything upside down and backwards. Well perhaps not everything – to be honest, Wyldon wasn’t even sure how they did that in any land – but most things, to be certain.
Example: in Tortall, a respectable squire was not to covet the crown prince. Yet when the said squire was caught eyeing a certain Prince Ozorne in the questionable empire to the south, the reaction was none other than a wink. Even halfway across the Carthaki staterooms, there had been no mistaking it for anything other than what it had been. Ozorne’s eyes were heavily outlined; it had been seductive and alluring.
Wyldon was shocked, delighted and horrified in turn. Delight and shock at Ozorne’s gall; horrified that ‘seductive’ and ‘alluring’ were in fact the words that came from the murky depths of his own subconscious.
Yes, there was something seriously wrong with an empire that could make a considerably stable squire question his life choices. And at that, not just any considerably stable squire. Squire Wyldon of Cavall, was widely accepted as the most promising prospect of generation firefly* .
By the time that young Wyldon, his knight master and the remaining Tortallan delegation had set foot on their native land, Wyldon had spent quite a lot of time pondering his situation.
Conclusions being,
One: the code of chivalry highly encourages repressing expression of the individual.
Two: he had spent the majority of his life attempting to obtain an ideal, that was in fact, quite unattainable.
Three: this ideal which he had so blindingly wanted to achieve was not so much what he sought from life, but rather what his mother - a certain Lady Isavere of Cavall – desired him to want.
And four: all things considered, it might be in the interest of all parties concerned if he were to stop trading love letters with a certain, unnamed court lady.
Given another two weeks and an arrival in Corus, Wyldon was quite prepared to hit the open road, with his few possessions upon his back; wandering aimlessly, seeking his fortune. For at the end of the road, Wyldon could see a silhouette. A shapely outline set against the morning sun that could be but one person. Regardless of the paths he would have chosen, Wyldon felt they would all lead to his prince.
Unfortunately for his lofty plans of solitary wandering, death came knocking - and with a letter of explanation.
Wyldon Darling,
I am sure that you are aware of my correspondence with Annabelle and Charles DesMarais of Tusaine. If you were not aware, I have been corresponding with those stated above in the matter of a betrothal. Your betrothal, my dearest son. The details need not concern you, but please know that their daughter Lady Vivenne will arrive tomorrow. I expect that you will show exemplary manners and charm.
Love always,
Mother
The letter was delivered by Lady Vivenne herself. The letter, Wyldon almost noticed, was marked Yesterday.
<><><><>
* so named for the deadly firefly fever that raged throughout the eastern lands, afflicting infants and youth. Note of interest: the young Lord of Stone Mountain was a rare case that managed to survive the illness. This doubtless, accounts for certain… ah, things.
Further note of interest: granted, some historians say that there were no promising prospects in generation firefly, and that the gods were simply passing time whilst they awaited generation gods’ touched, so named for the incessant meddling of the gods during the lives of King Jonathan and his Queen Thayet’s generation.
<><><><>
I still haven't written your Cavall drabble, but I hope that you'll accept this for now... ^_^
Example: in Tortall, a respectable squire was not to covet the crown prince. Yet when the said squire was caught eyeing a certain Prince Ozorne in the questionable empire to the south, the reaction was none other than a wink. Even halfway across the Carthaki staterooms, there had been no mistaking it for anything other than what it had been. Ozorne’s eyes were heavily outlined; it had been seductive and alluring.
Wyldon was shocked, delighted and horrified in turn. Delight and shock at Ozorne’s gall; horrified that ‘seductive’ and ‘alluring’ were in fact the words that came from the murky depths of his own subconscious.
Yes, there was something seriously wrong with an empire that could make a considerably stable squire question his life choices. And at that, not just any considerably stable squire. Squire Wyldon of Cavall, was widely accepted as the most promising prospect of generation firefly* .
By the time that young Wyldon, his knight master and the remaining Tortallan delegation had set foot on their native land, Wyldon had spent quite a lot of time pondering his situation.
Conclusions being,
One: the code of chivalry highly encourages repressing expression of the individual.
Two: he had spent the majority of his life attempting to obtain an ideal, that was in fact, quite unattainable.
Three: this ideal which he had so blindingly wanted to achieve was not so much what he sought from life, but rather what his mother - a certain Lady Isavere of Cavall – desired him to want.
And four: all things considered, it might be in the interest of all parties concerned if he were to stop trading love letters with a certain, unnamed court lady.
Given another two weeks and an arrival in Corus, Wyldon was quite prepared to hit the open road, with his few possessions upon his back; wandering aimlessly, seeking his fortune. For at the end of the road, Wyldon could see a silhouette. A shapely outline set against the morning sun that could be but one person. Regardless of the paths he would have chosen, Wyldon felt they would all lead to his prince.
Unfortunately for his lofty plans of solitary wandering, death came knocking - and with a letter of explanation.
Wyldon Darling,
I am sure that you are aware of my correspondence with Annabelle and Charles DesMarais of Tusaine. If you were not aware, I have been corresponding with those stated above in the matter of a betrothal. Your betrothal, my dearest son. The details need not concern you, but please know that their daughter Lady Vivenne will arrive tomorrow. I expect that you will show exemplary manners and charm.
Love always,
Mother
The letter was delivered by Lady Vivenne herself. The letter, Wyldon almost noticed, was marked Yesterday.
<><><><>
* so named for the deadly firefly fever that raged throughout the eastern lands, afflicting infants and youth. Note of interest: the young Lord of Stone Mountain was a rare case that managed to survive the illness. This doubtless, accounts for certain… ah, things.
Further note of interest: granted, some historians say that there were no promising prospects in generation firefly, and that the gods were simply passing time whilst they awaited generation gods’ touched, so named for the incessant meddling of the gods during the lives of King Jonathan and his Queen Thayet’s generation.
<><><><>
I still haven't written your Cavall drabble, but I hope that you'll accept this for now... ^_^
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Date: 2005-08-23 10:28 am (UTC)