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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 1:01:00 GMT -5
*Vianne pulled away and curled herself into a ball in the middle of her bed.* "Don't touch me. Not right now. I can't bear it," *she said tiredly.* "I can hardly think..."
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 15, 2006 1:05:22 GMT -5
Percy knelt at her side like a tamed lion, and continued to watch her.
"I would not lie to you, Vianne, not about this. I did not bring up Marguerite because the entire subject is painful."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 1:06:46 GMT -5
"And this is less painful?" *she scoffed.* "I wonder that you were able to survive her passing," *she said bitterly.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 15, 2006 1:09:41 GMT -5
Percy rose and stood, looking down at her.
"This event is far more painful than any other in my life," he said, "what I watched just now."
He turned and stared bleakly out the window.
"Her passing was nothing more than a confirmation of what had already occured: her death. She was mad for two years before she died. Perhaps it was a sweet suffering, in a way."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 1:14:33 GMT -5
"Do not play the poet with me, Percy," *she said in a quiet voice, turning away and lying on her side with her back to him, resting her head on her pillow.* "You had a mad wife for two years...I had such a husband for fifteen...the father of my daughter...the man in whose hands I placed my life." *She closed her eyes.* "I'd have rather remained faithful to his violence if I had known what kind of situation I would find myself in now..."
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 15, 2006 1:15:50 GMT -5
"Why do you continue to believe that I love because you look like Marguerite?" he asked softly.
"Tell me how I can fix it."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 1:17:33 GMT -5
"You cannot fix it..." *she whispered.* "You could have prevented it...told me the truth and given me a choice...before..." *She bit her lip and shrugged helplessly.* "And now I'm trapped..." *she said in a dead voice.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 15, 2006 1:20:20 GMT -5
"You are not trapped," he whispered. "I will let you go, if you wish."
"And yes, I should have told you of it, but Vianne, it was something I spoke of to no one. For that, I beg your forgiveness."
He closed his eyes and let the tears fall.
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 1:22:40 GMT -5
"You have it," *she whispered.* "My forgiveness, my love...I could never withold either from you for long..." *She tried to sit up and face him but only collapsed weakly against her pillows as the room spun.* "It is my trust that is broken..."
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 15, 2006 1:26:36 GMT -5
Percy lunged foward and caught her as she collapsed. Sitting down on the bed, he took her hands and studied her.
"This is no fever, Vianne. What is truly wrong?"
At her silence, he begged, "Vianne, please." And then he stopped and laughed bitterly.
"What kind of fool am I, to demand that you tell me your pain, when I have already broken your trust once over?"
He bowed his head very low.
"Forgive me, I shall endevour not to make such a mistake again. If you wish to tell me nothing, I shall not push. But Vianne...you are ill. At least come back to the house, where it will be better for you."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 1:28:41 GMT -5
"I have work to do here..." *she protested feebly.* "You should have seen the girl they brought in to replace me...I swear she was mad!" *She clenched her teeth and forced herself to sit up without wavering.* "I'll be fine."
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 15, 2006 1:30:34 GMT -5
Percy stood and stared at her.
"Vianne," he said gently, "you are ill. I beg of you, come home. I do not wish to order you, but I shall, if I must. Your health is more important to me than the opera."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 1:32:15 GMT -5
*She visibly bristled at this.* "You can order until you're blue in the face--I shall not obey! Truly, there is nothing wrong with my health...I swear it."
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 15, 2006 1:35:08 GMT -5
Percy smiled gently down at her.
"I know you too well, my beloved," he said softly. "You would not be in bed unless ordered by a doctor. You are ill....and I will carry you home, if I must."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 15, 2006 2:09:10 GMT -5
*Madame Giry leapt defiantly to her feet on the other side of the bed, her eyes sparkling with rage even as she groped the bedpost for support.*
"If I am ill, it's not my fault!" *she exclaimed with exasperation.*
"And you can stop being so condescending and coddling as if I were as weak as a kitten, which I'm NOT, and...and...you do not know me well or you would have to sense to heed what I say and leave me alone and I will not be carted about in a basket for the next eight months as though I were made of muslin!"
*she hissed indignantly, stopping only to catch her breath for a moment.*
"How dare you imply that I do not have sense enough to make certain I remain in general good health? I'll have you know I've spent the last fifteen years ministering to over twenty snot-nosed ballet rats, and believe you me if there is a disease to be had in all of the city, rest assured one of them will bring it into this Opera, and I have never in all my life seen a single one of those girls fall dangerously ill, much less myself!
You may not order me about, nor will that doctor! And he only said I was ill to keep prying, awful people like yourself out of my private quarters! I only wanted a little PEACE, for God's sake, is that too much to ask?"
*She whirled about and slammed her hand viciously against the wardrobe, panting desperately and trying to regain control of her anger. She picked up a glass trinket from a side-table and briefly contemplated dashing it against Percy's arrogant head before she bit her lip, winced, and subdued her anger, placing it back on the polished wooden surface with a resounding thud. A moment later she decided on the brass candlestick*
It won't break as easily against that rock-hard, pointed skull of his.
*She hefted it easily and wagged it in Percy's direction.*
"In other words--don't you dare."
((Romantic gesture: *thrown back in face*))
((Today's post brought to you by Typing While On Heavy Dosages of Cough Medication. Buckley's = RANTY MCRANTERSON!))
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