(1865-12-25) Questions With No Answers
Questions With No Answers
Summary: A brief conversation between Claire and Anjin finally gets the knight to speak, but it's not as simple as it seems. Nor the reasons as to why he chooses not to be… so talkative.
Date: 1865/12/52
Related: None
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Claire  Anjin  

Galenthia - Almeria City - Fortress

This formidable fortress, while not as large as some, is the seat of Alicante County and home to the Viscount Romante. Past the gate is a narrow courtyard designed for entrapping attackers and obliterating them from the high walls and towers above. Accesses let into the stables, a barracks, as well as huge, thick bronze double doors with a portcullis to enter the keep. This is after passing up through the long, narrow tunnel filled with murder holes from the city below.

Inside of the fortress keep the finest of old stonework has been kept in excellent repair from tall arching halls to parkayed multi-colored stone floors with slates and marbles from all over the South. Colorful tapestries and paintings greet visitors, handsomely carved woodwork, fine cloth, and some of the most beautiful ceramics and glasswork available in the West. House Romante is known for it's wealth and while less opulent than one might expect due to the Viscount's personal tastes not caring for it, nonetheless everything is of the utmost craftsmanship while remaining practical. The Great hall is filled with tables for feasting, or may be cleared for dancing. Around the back of the multi-storied keep is a bailey with gardens for meandering with hedges, flowers, fruit, nut and olive trees, and herb knotwork around a small pond with a breathtaking view of the sea.

25th of Decembre, 1865 IE

Winter in the southern parts of Galenthia have been kind to those used to the colder regions. Dry without any hint of rain in the skies, this overcast afternoon is still welcoming to those within the fortress. Claire and her maid, Margret would be two such people to enjoy the temperatures as the former has taken to occupying the gardens with its overlook towards the sea. Still with an ever-present cane beside her, the additional bulk of Radiant lounges beside her is a constant watch guard - along with the two royal lancers gained upon her marriage into the Romante family.

Turning over one well-written page, her work as a healer still persists. All one has to do is look in detail at the correspondence or heard of her requests for rebuilding supplies that have been left untended since the attack which left her and her husband injured severely before their wedding.

It's been a very long time since Anjin Tekar was seen in this region of Galenthia during the winter. For all that over a decade has passed since he has spent a winter in the Alicante region, the memories of what the season was like have proven themselves as accurate as recent history. When he had first heard where exactly the party was traveling to, there'd been an actual touch of surprise, the word "Truly?" escaping his mouth before he had bustled off to make sure he was /not/ one of the last to go, as if eager to get on with it.

It's not just Alicante that he has been away from for some time, and upon arrival to the fortress, he had simply stopped and stared for the longest time, clearly lost in some rememberance with that distant expression until finally a shake to the arm had pulled him out of the near trance-like state he had been in. Anjin had been wandering throughout, since, even going so far as to draw no less than three different maps, each annotated according to a different metric: his own recollections, his current wanderings, and the third a series of speculation on why the difference.

It's that particular project that has him wandering through the gardens, represented with a vague rectangular shape in all three of his maps. The temperature hardly seems to bother him.

It's Radiant who first catches the different scent on the air, lifting his amber furred head to take a second whiff before an audible whuff escapes with a shake of his head. "Hm?" Spoken out of distraction, Claire's gaze lifts from the letter towards the Elementi while Margret continues to read unhindered some volume about their new home. Basics, but it'll do well for the maid to be learned. It's the Countess' wish.

Anjin had not been a frequent appearance, yes, but presently? She does find it odd enough that Claire sets aside the letter with a hand lifting in a brief signal or wave, if one were to go that far. "Sir Tekar. A surprise to see you out in the gardens. Rumor had it that you preferred written works."

The answer the Countess is given, besides a somewhat awkward bow - awkward due to the items he's carrying - is for him to hold up what it is he's been working on. Radiant is eyed, cautiously, on account of coming into closer proximity, but Anjin merely holds up the drawing and brief annotations he had made earlier via the more traditional pen-and-ink method. Most of them are notes to himself, innocuous reminders to see if certain carvings of the stone are the same, architectual design, shop locations, and more.

As usual, he doesn't (yet?) respond with words, given that the paper should more than be sufficient to turn said rumor into something more concrete.

Radiant is a big harmless dog - to non-threats. While he's mostly convinced that this particular person isn't, that may be due to the fact that there's nothing threatening about Anjin's demeanor. Gesturing for the paper to be laid out upon the table, Claire regards the knight with something of a frown as she leans back against the chair. "While I'm sure that Letholdus does humor your lack of speaking," she begins, considering her words with the faintest of smiles. Even if she were to regard the drawing, it doesn't seem to appease her to the same levels that he might have been hoping for.

"If you are not going to converse verbally, this will be quite the unfortunate and brief meeting."

There may be a hint of a smile on the Countess's lips, and there may be a big "harmless" dog, but the words do not exactly succeed in drawing out speech at least immediately. A period of time passes, where Anjin stands there and all but stares, his lips writhing for an instant as though uncertain just how or even if they're supposed to move. There's even a gesture where his hands ball up for a moment, his neck constricting, but it ends almost as quickly as it begins… and then he stares almost unblinkingly, silent, a blast of air coming through his nose in the form of an obvious sigh.

There may be a smile but it doesn't reach her eyes, this Countess who has been kind to most if not all whom she's met with a healer's touch. Something which may be proven with Claire's next words. "To my knowledge, your tongue has not been ripped out nor have you been rendered mute," she says, watching the other man's reaction to what she speaks about. Almost expectant. "If, you are mute? Then I would be glad to assist you in whatever means possible. If you are not? Then I prefer conversation verbally rather than one sided conversation. Geoffry has been kind enough to leave ample sheets of parchment that my husband has not been using. Margret can fetch them for me," she says even as she young woman looks up from the pages of the book as if the summons had been clear in her direction.

Radiant? He's still sitting there. Relaxed with a huge tongue lolling out of his mouth before a second moment finds him closing it and settling down onto his paws.

The brows are furrowing together on Anjin Tekar's forehead before the question of whether he's actually a mute is voiced, the frown as pronounced as the scar through his sightless eye. Naturally, for him, he stands there, listening, carefully keeping hold of what he was entertaining himself with just moments prior.

The sudden blinking of his eyes, a hint of startlement at suggestion of fetching parchment, and then that frown is changing into a different one altogether: confusion and surprise replace the partial indignation that had just a moment ago been perched upon his countenance. He still says nothing, but just as suddenly he is beginning to fumble about on his person for the typically-present leather satchel transferring the items now balanced in one hand, for something perhaps quite different: a tightly stopped bottle of ink, and a moongazer-feather quill, one that has quite clearly seen considerable wear, and may well be ancient by the fact that most of the plumage has vanished altogether, leaving almost little more than the rachis and the shaft fitted with a nib for writing.

"Go Margret." Spoken to the young girl who had already set the book aside once Anjin began fumbling for his things, Claire beckons the man closer with the movement of one hand towards the empty chairs at the table. Still numbering two, minus the one the maid had sat upon and the one currently occupied by the Countess. "I would not short your supplies, but I see that they are in need of repair or replacement as well. Why have you not mentioned such things to either us or the steward?" While likely an honest question, she still waits for him to take a seat at the table with her. And 'us' takes in herself and Letholdus alike.

The 'us' is clearly understood, but all the same there's a hesitation, and perhaps oddly, Anjin's hand twitches as though to replace the rather ragged quill back in, as though he had grabbed it by accident. There's a moment where he stares not at you, but at what is now being held quite firmly in his fingers, before finally his head twitches sideways in a half-shake and he finally seats himself.

"It's special." If the words are a surprise, they are also alone, and he states them softly, before suddenly turning that single good eye to the face of the Countess-now-Romante as though ready to fight over the right to keep what's his.

"All the more reason to preserve it," Claire answers, as if hearing the man's voice wasn't something that genuinely took her by surprise. It may have, in hindsight, given that dark eyes settle on him almost with an admonishment of not being vocal prior. "Why did you not speak earlier, Sir Tekar," she asks finally, leaning forward to fold the correspondence - being a letter from Clara neatly between her fingers. "Rumors are terrible things. From what I have heard, it has either been that you were mute or dislike which has kept you silent."

The fact that he doesn't conceal the suggestion of a roll of his eyes is more than enough as to what Anjin thinks of those 'rumors', though he's heard one or two himself, when no one thought he was lurking nearby in some quiet alcove (reading). It's a quick gesture, concealed by the way he blinks rapidly and starts to wipe at his good eye as though a speck of dust had found its way in, rather than a ridiculous idea.

All the same, Anjin does nothing to dispel either rumor, for verbal silence is his initial response to the query and to the follow-up statement about what is said about him. He glances at the ragged object in his hand for a moment, that confusion taking hold for a moment, and then a glance becomes a stare, a deep breath with eyes shut, and finally he starts to move, digging out his own spare sheets, though most have some annotation or another. When he finally decides on one, into the ink that dilapidated moongazer feather goes, and he suddenly writes a single sentence, before finally turning the sheet towards you.

"What reason is there to speak when there is nothing I have to say that anyone needs to hear, Your Excellency?"

A quick glance at the rest of the page contains a collection of quotes he annotated with source material, though they seem to have more relevance to children's stories than scholastic works.

The raggedness of such items does seem to belie some age. Not just a few months, but rather years. It could give her thoughts to entertain otherwise regarding silence and why he keeps to it.

The sheet turned towards her doesn't serve to help Claire in her thoughts, the idle annotations met with a press of lips - just like the statement which coinsides with her question. Touching the page lightly with her fingers to read, she pushes the parchment back with the lightest tilts of her head. "Because your thoughts are likely wanted if someone were to take the time to speak with you. Whether or not you engage everyone in conversation, it is different if someone engages you. Is it not?"

There's only a shrug given to that particular question, initially. His eyes, good and not, regard the paper he slid your way more often than anything else. He does not inscribe or verbalize a response to that particular question, but rather follows up his previous motion of the shoulders with the suggestion of a shake of the head to indicate his disagreement. At which point he's reaching for the returned parchment to add another series of words:

"People say too much, and mean too little, with their words. A knight or a lord swearing to serve his liege is questioned later when he does nothing, when nothing is exactly what he should have done to uphold that vow. I want what I say -" that word is also vehemently written "- to have meaning too."

Talk. Silence. More talking.

It's a one sided conversation from Claire's point of view, Radiant only idly paying attention to this new person as his tail shifts from left to right in contentment. "What one says is not the same as one's actions, in your example," she says, a finger touching the parchment even as she reads the words written. "If one swears loyalty to their liege, they may still undermine that by their actions. In your example, what should they have done? And, do NOT state that doing nothing was an option. By your words, some action was expected."

There's a grimace, and not a small one, the twisting of Anjin's lips on account of the explicit statement - command? - that 'doing nothing' is off the table. The subject at discussion has aroused some sort of agitation within him, his lips again constantly moving as though warring to both part and stay shut at the same time.

Quite suddenly, that ruined feather-quill is being tucked away where it once came from, and he is reaching out to just as carefully remove the paper. From there, it's a matter of a direct stare and slightly heavier breathing, long enough that some external watchers may wonder whether the game of staring the longest was occurring.

"My father asked that question," Anjin suddenly says, cold enough as to try and emulate a winter in Whitehall, "and did not get an answer, only death." There's a lift of the chin then, anger leeching out onto his features, before his jaw clamps shut and, if the rippling of muscle along the jawline is any indication, is likely to stay shut.

Most would leave sleeping dogs lie. Figuratively speaking. Only, for those that know Claire Romante when she was in Tarris name, that won't stop her as easily. The suddenness of the packing and seemingly retreat finds her fingers relinquishing the light hold on the paper while shaking her head slowly.

"You are not your father," Claire states with a hint of firmness in her voice. "Anymore than I your father's liege. Not all lieges are the same, Sir Tekar. How would you have answered instead?"

His face hardens, for a moment, an instant where Anjin sits there and grows exponentially more irritated, the expression there and gone in a flash. The statements and follow-up inquiry do not earn a verbal response, however. That, he'll actually write out, but not before he tears off a portion of the parchment after insuring that he will not be losing any of the apparent notes he has taken previously.

"Better to do nothing, than to be a fool falsely begging for forgiveness later."

It's all he writes, and when he finishes, he gets up and offers something of a bow, but for all that he doesn't simply turn his back and simply go, his expression makes it clear he doesn't want to discuss this further, and is silently waiting for leave.

So, it's 'that' answer. Claire's expression may as well convey such statements as she settles her back against the chair with both hands settling within her lap. The paper is glanced at, read and registered with a press - a firmer press of her lips in response to the inked wording. This time, a response won't be coming from the Countess as she affixes him with a look. Rather neutral, given the exchange thus far.

"You may go, Sir Tekar." He's made his desire to leave so clear, that Claire doesn't need to be a telepath to ask.

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