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Post by Valerie on May 21, 2008 10:38:40 GMT -5
"Then I am sorry for you. I only come here because I have no choice. To prefer squalor must be a terrible thing."
*She half-smiled.*
"But then you always did like slumming, didn't you?" *she said significantly.*
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Post by Valmont on May 21, 2008 10:49:32 GMT -5
*His mouth twitched.*
"No, not always," *he said, with equal significance.* "But then, I'd hate to take myself from the narrow confines of the box you so conveniently placed me in. It must be a comfort, all that black and white. Gets a bit fatiguing on the eyes, I shouldn't wonder."
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Post by Valerie on May 21, 2008 12:46:32 GMT -5
"The only narrow box I'd ever care to see you in would be a coffin, Monsieur," *she said flippantly.* "And I've heard age does things to one's vision. Perhaps an optician may help you to see things my way."
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Post by Valmont on May 21, 2008 13:17:47 GMT -5
"I didn't think you cared," *he mocked. He wanted to throw his paternity in her face, suddenly. To make her as miserable as he was. To break her down finally with the truth of her sin as he could not with the truth of her desire. Little hypocrite, playing high and mighty when she was no stranger to being on her back herself. But he was tongue-tied by something, some sort of protective impulse perhaps, and he merely tugged at his gloves.*
"No doubt I will oblige you one of these days," *he said blandly.* "Until then, I have no desire to see things your way. If you have no principles, Mademoiselle Lambert, you cannot go against them."
Just keep telling yourself that, old man, and perhaps you won't embarrass yourself further by being sick all over her.
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Post by Valerie on May 21, 2008 15:31:11 GMT -5
"What a life of ease yours must be, then," *she said blandly.* "But for those of us who by accident of birth must struggle to rise above our humble beginnings--well, we have not the luxury of carelessness. We must live and die by principles--they are all we have."
*She shrugged.*
"But there we are very different. You are a Vicomte--a gentleman," *she said with wry sarcasm on the last word.* "I'm a bluestocking librarian hussy."
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Post by Valmont on May 21, 2008 15:44:50 GMT -5
"And once again, you fault me for my birth. No doing of my own, I'm sure, though I'm certainly glad for it. We cannot all be born so humble and true." *How would she like her beginnings now, if she knew they lay with him?*
Unfortunate choice of words, old boy.
*His gut was not appreciating this, nor his hangover.*
"We have our differences, Mademoiselle Lambert, that much is true. Yet for all your learning and your novels, many of which preach tolerance and encourage one to view other lives than your own, can you not allow that there may be many views other than your own? It's a comfort, I'm sure, to be eternally right in everything you do, but those of us without such conviction must muddle through as best we can."
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Post by Valerie on May 21, 2008 16:06:39 GMT -5
"Muddling is what you do best. Excuse me," *she said scathingly, turning to leave.*
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Post by Valmont on May 21, 2008 16:15:04 GMT -5
"Of course," *he said, blanching. He could say nothing else, for he was certain that, should he open his mouth again, all that would come out was his suspicion-become-certainty, probably in some fashion that was even more embarrassing than it had to be.
He turned and headed for the closest alley, where he was quietly sick behind a dustbin.*
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Post by Valerie on May 21, 2008 16:18:49 GMT -5
((I can't stop giggling. He's going to be so fucked up by the time he finds out the truth and it's too late because she's already dead.))
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Post by Valmont on May 21, 2008 16:20:51 GMT -5
((Yes. Because other than being his daughter, Valerie is so very welcoming. That gives me an idea; should he decide to be ineffectually fatherly and start sending her anonymous gifts?))
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Post by Valerie on May 21, 2008 16:24:36 GMT -5
((He could if she wants, and she'd just be all but take them anyway. And she already HAS a father so it's not like she needs a father figure. ...if Valmont ever tells her to put on a sweater because it's cold out, I will die a little inside of the lulz.))
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Post by Valmont on May 21, 2008 16:27:48 GMT -5
((I'm just trying to figure out how best to play the confusing and contradictory impulses within him. Guilt + obligation + anger + lingering sexual tension. + Maybe a smidgen of pride.))
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Post by Father Joseph on May 26, 2008 2:33:49 GMT -5
*Wild looked up at him, worrying. What if those were chores she hadn't learned. She would hate to disappoint him.* "What are Annas chores?" *Joseph smiled gently.* "Nothing too difficult. Mostly she just cleans up the place after mass and makes sure that the candles are lit. Not too much to ask I hope?" *He dared a grin, his eyes sparkling.*
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Post by Wildfeather on May 26, 2008 6:52:32 GMT -5
*Wild smiled relieved. For a moment she had worried he would ask her about something really, really boring.*
"Sure, I can do that."
*Her eyes sparkled too, and she giggled.*
"For one moment I was afraid you would force me to wash dishes. I hate dishwashing. I did too much of it at the orphanage."
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Post by Father Joseph on May 26, 2008 6:55:10 GMT -5
Oh!
*Joseph filed that away for later, trying to learn about her so he could help her as much as possible.*
"I'll do my best to keep you out of the kitchen then."
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