☼ RUTH OF HOUSE IESHAN ☼רות
"Will you rescue me? / What kingdom will replace my bounty / of leisure, what tether of care and nurture / do you wish to rope my neck with?"
"Will you rescue me? / What kingdom will replace my bounty / of leisure, what tether of care and nurture / do you wish to rope my neck with?"
I see the woman even before she strays close. I think that it is something in the way that she carries herself; the way she threatens to make my hairs stand straight up, like a press of a knife to the throat.
(Of course – I do not feel afraid, not properly, and I can’t imagine anyone causing trouble to me at my family’s own party, regardless of Ishak’s insisting. Besides. She feels like a snake in the sand, cagey and nearly erratic; but she does not feel hostile.)
For the dark kohl drawn around her eyes and the golden swirls snaking like leaf and vines in her coat, there is nothing soft to this woman. Her eyes are hard, and they are searching; for what, I have no idea. She’s lovely, technically, but she isn’t beautiful. She looks almost like she is made of stone, like I do, but a different type, a different composition – cool grey and mottled white where I am brown and sickly gold, with turquoise eyes as sharp as chips of steel. She moves through the crowd with restless purpose, and the crowd in the courtyard parts to let her pass.
The woman approaches me. I can’t say why.
You’re bored? she asks of me, and my response comes almost immediately. I might be Ruth Ieshan, least important daughter of my house, but I am still an Ieshan, and I am under some degree of obligation to present myself accordingly. It will not do to act bored at my beloved, prestigious brother’s party, even if I find it utterly unextraordinary, and, perhaps, depressing.
“Bored?” I incline my head at her – do we know each other? No, I don’t think so (then why is she here?) -, utterly apathetic. “My brother never throws boring parties.” That isn’t an answer, so it isn’t technically a lie. (It is what Ishak does to me all the time. It is, I think, what I do when I don’t want to be honest, when I can’t open my eyes and stare the truth in the face – much less admit to it.)
Bored. Am I bored? I feel much the same as I always do. (I am – lukewarm. Apathetic. There are terrible things beneath my surface, terrible things creeping at the corner of my vision like peripheral shadows wherever I look, but I pretend not to notice them; or maybe it is that I cannot care enough about them to strive against them, so I take the easy way out.) At any rate, parties are a novelty that I have been attending since childhood. I suppose I should consider them a luxury, a consequence of my privileged background – the servants scurrying about the party are not so idle or so lucky as I.
(I cannot help but think that they are a burden. I have no interest in the dancing, or the socializing, or the expensive alcohol. After seeing enough of them, they all begin to blend together, regardless of Pilate’s planning skills.)
I am not usually courteous, but I bear with it. This is a public occasion, and I am a host – whether I like it or not. “I am Ruth,” I say, slowly, and dip my head, “fifth-born of House Ieshan. May I help you, guest?”
@Dalmatia || I <3 her || Jeannine Hall Gailey, "Rapunzel: I like the Quiet"
(Of course – I do not feel afraid, not properly, and I can’t imagine anyone causing trouble to me at my family’s own party, regardless of Ishak’s insisting. Besides. She feels like a snake in the sand, cagey and nearly erratic; but she does not feel hostile.)
For the dark kohl drawn around her eyes and the golden swirls snaking like leaf and vines in her coat, there is nothing soft to this woman. Her eyes are hard, and they are searching; for what, I have no idea. She’s lovely, technically, but she isn’t beautiful. She looks almost like she is made of stone, like I do, but a different type, a different composition – cool grey and mottled white where I am brown and sickly gold, with turquoise eyes as sharp as chips of steel. She moves through the crowd with restless purpose, and the crowd in the courtyard parts to let her pass.
The woman approaches me. I can’t say why.
You’re bored? she asks of me, and my response comes almost immediately. I might be Ruth Ieshan, least important daughter of my house, but I am still an Ieshan, and I am under some degree of obligation to present myself accordingly. It will not do to act bored at my beloved, prestigious brother’s party, even if I find it utterly unextraordinary, and, perhaps, depressing.
“Bored?” I incline my head at her – do we know each other? No, I don’t think so (then why is she here?) -, utterly apathetic. “My brother never throws boring parties.” That isn’t an answer, so it isn’t technically a lie. (It is what Ishak does to me all the time. It is, I think, what I do when I don’t want to be honest, when I can’t open my eyes and stare the truth in the face – much less admit to it.)
Bored. Am I bored? I feel much the same as I always do. (I am – lukewarm. Apathetic. There are terrible things beneath my surface, terrible things creeping at the corner of my vision like peripheral shadows wherever I look, but I pretend not to notice them; or maybe it is that I cannot care enough about them to strive against them, so I take the easy way out.) At any rate, parties are a novelty that I have been attending since childhood. I suppose I should consider them a luxury, a consequence of my privileged background – the servants scurrying about the party are not so idle or so lucky as I.
(I cannot help but think that they are a burden. I have no interest in the dancing, or the socializing, or the expensive alcohol. After seeing enough of them, they all begin to blend together, regardless of Pilate’s planning skills.)
I am not usually courteous, but I bear with it. This is a public occasion, and I am a host – whether I like it or not. “I am Ruth,” I say, slowly, and dip my head, “fifth-born of House Ieshan. May I help you, guest?”
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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
