☼ RUTH OF HOUSE IESHAN ☼רות
"Too much / of a good thing will chew you up and swallow you whole. / The moon is in your house and has nothing to say / about all your nonsense. Now may be a good time to go / on a long journey. The stars think you need to clear your head. / The stars think you need to run."
"Too much / of a good thing will chew you up and swallow you whole. / The moon is in your house and has nothing to say / about all your nonsense. Now may be a good time to go / on a long journey. The stars think you need to clear your head. / The stars think you need to run."
Solterran parties are gilded nightmares, when you get a good look at them.
That is what Ishak says, anyways. I try not to look at them to hard, so I can’t speak to the veracity of that statement (and Ishak is not always an honest man); I have always been content to quietly observe, to linger on the edges – at the walls - without looking too hard or too deep. I have been learning, lately, that it is very difficult to unsee things after you have seen them once.
(I am trying to forget, but, like a red-hot brand burned into the back of my mind, I can’t forget anything. If I look too deeply – too deeply at the party, at my siblings, at the whispers on the lips of the gathered nobles, brought together from all four courts – I am afraid of what I will see. It is better to keep my eyes closed and remain ignorant.
Ishak says that it is that quality of mine that gives him the most trouble. I could do, he insists, with a bit more awareness.
I’m not sure who I would become if I opened my eyes any further.)
So – blossoms braided loosely into my hair, stride guarded, posture exactly demanding enough to denote me a host (but subdued, compared to most of my gathered relatives) – I press my way through the crowds, which part easily (most of the time) to allow me to pass. Ishak is only a step behind me, his eyes scanning each and every gathered figure in much the same way that he looks at a concealed knife or a dark alleyway; his stare catches on someone (I am not paying enough attention to know who), and his lips prick up at an odd angle. He brushes up against me, the gentle touch just enough to tell me that he intends to investigate, and then he is gone, disappearing in the swarm of bodies with unnerving ease.
I am not alarmed. Ishak is always nearby (unless he isn’t – but that is rare), whether I can actually see him or not, and I spent years unguarded (to his chagrin) regardless.
Through the window, I catch sight of the courtyard; my stare falls on Hagar and then Corradh. Adonai is at the other end of the hall, looking quite like a statue himself. A part of me contemplates – briefly – collecting all my courage and approaching my brother, asking him the question that has been on the tip of my tongue since he fell ill, but I am not nearly brave enough for that. (And – it would be tactless, here. I am not naïve enough to forget that there are eyes and ears everywhere.) I saw Pilate near the entrance, greeting the guests (and indulging in the drinks). I do not know exactly what they are serving at the bar, but I know that I am not interested in putting anything that my brother has mixed into my mouth.
I know him a bit too well for that.
Finally, I decide to slip up a staircase, towards one of the areas I suspect will be quieter. There are more servants gathered on the second floor, and fewer partygoers; most of them have remained on the ground floor, or in the courtyard, where most of the party is taking place. It will be more crowded later in the evening, when more people have gathered, but, for now, it is relatively quiet.
I slip out and onto the largest balcony, which unfortunately subjects me to some of the sounds from the courtyard below – but, from above, they are not quite so jarring. A few people have already gathered; I think that I spot a few sets of lovers in secluded areas, whispering sweet nothings from beneath the shade of potted fig trees and glittery, hanging décor. A pair of noblemen are discussing business – loudly, in a way that suggests they want to be heard – from the railing; I think that I catch one of them looking back at me, almost purposefully, but I opt to pretend I didn’t notice. A group of girls, young and dressed in obnoxiously ornate outfits with elaborate jewelry, giggle amongst themselves; they raise their eyes to me, and I think that they whisper something, but I ignore them entirely.
I find a secluded spot on the far left and settle near the rails, staring down at the figures in the courtyard below. I can pick out Corradh, who looks more canvas than man, and Hagar, who has attracted several people to her booth in spite of its secluded location thanks to her undeniable allure, and, for a moment, I feel the bitter-bite sensation of envy coiling around my throat.
(Of all the curses that must have been laid upon my house, that has always been the most pervasive.)
But I shake it off – quickly, because I have practiced – and distract myself with the heavy chill of night air and the cloudless sky above.
@Raziel || <3 || clementine von radics, "your latest horoscope"
That is what Ishak says, anyways. I try not to look at them to hard, so I can’t speak to the veracity of that statement (and Ishak is not always an honest man); I have always been content to quietly observe, to linger on the edges – at the walls - without looking too hard or too deep. I have been learning, lately, that it is very difficult to unsee things after you have seen them once.
(I am trying to forget, but, like a red-hot brand burned into the back of my mind, I can’t forget anything. If I look too deeply – too deeply at the party, at my siblings, at the whispers on the lips of the gathered nobles, brought together from all four courts – I am afraid of what I will see. It is better to keep my eyes closed and remain ignorant.
Ishak says that it is that quality of mine that gives him the most trouble. I could do, he insists, with a bit more awareness.
I’m not sure who I would become if I opened my eyes any further.)
So – blossoms braided loosely into my hair, stride guarded, posture exactly demanding enough to denote me a host (but subdued, compared to most of my gathered relatives) – I press my way through the crowds, which part easily (most of the time) to allow me to pass. Ishak is only a step behind me, his eyes scanning each and every gathered figure in much the same way that he looks at a concealed knife or a dark alleyway; his stare catches on someone (I am not paying enough attention to know who), and his lips prick up at an odd angle. He brushes up against me, the gentle touch just enough to tell me that he intends to investigate, and then he is gone, disappearing in the swarm of bodies with unnerving ease.
I am not alarmed. Ishak is always nearby (unless he isn’t – but that is rare), whether I can actually see him or not, and I spent years unguarded (to his chagrin) regardless.
Through the window, I catch sight of the courtyard; my stare falls on Hagar and then Corradh. Adonai is at the other end of the hall, looking quite like a statue himself. A part of me contemplates – briefly – collecting all my courage and approaching my brother, asking him the question that has been on the tip of my tongue since he fell ill, but I am not nearly brave enough for that. (And – it would be tactless, here. I am not naïve enough to forget that there are eyes and ears everywhere.) I saw Pilate near the entrance, greeting the guests (and indulging in the drinks). I do not know exactly what they are serving at the bar, but I know that I am not interested in putting anything that my brother has mixed into my mouth.
I know him a bit too well for that.
Finally, I decide to slip up a staircase, towards one of the areas I suspect will be quieter. There are more servants gathered on the second floor, and fewer partygoers; most of them have remained on the ground floor, or in the courtyard, where most of the party is taking place. It will be more crowded later in the evening, when more people have gathered, but, for now, it is relatively quiet.
I slip out and onto the largest balcony, which unfortunately subjects me to some of the sounds from the courtyard below – but, from above, they are not quite so jarring. A few people have already gathered; I think that I spot a few sets of lovers in secluded areas, whispering sweet nothings from beneath the shade of potted fig trees and glittery, hanging décor. A pair of noblemen are discussing business – loudly, in a way that suggests they want to be heard – from the railing; I think that I catch one of them looking back at me, almost purposefully, but I opt to pretend I didn’t notice. A group of girls, young and dressed in obnoxiously ornate outfits with elaborate jewelry, giggle amongst themselves; they raise their eyes to me, and I think that they whisper something, but I ignore them entirely.
I find a secluded spot on the far left and settle near the rails, staring down at the figures in the courtyard below. I can pick out Corradh, who looks more canvas than man, and Hagar, who has attracted several people to her booth in spite of its secluded location thanks to her undeniable allure, and, for a moment, I feel the bitter-bite sensation of envy coiling around my throat.
(Of all the curses that must have been laid upon my house, that has always been the most pervasive.)
But I shake it off – quickly, because I have practiced – and distract myself with the heavy chill of night air and the cloudless sky above.
@
HE FEEDS ME RED MEAT / HE WATCHES THE BLOOD POOL IN MY MOUTHlaughs at my red teeth❂please tag Ruth! contact is encouraged, short of violence
