Tiberius left the card on the tray unread and dressed himself in a gray haze. He recognized the looping scrawl of Martiette Nicollier’s handwriting at a glance. A summons – there were only two things it could possibly be about. The girl or the money. Truthfully, at this point he wanted neither. Only it rankled him to give these people anything. They didn’t deserve it.
Best to get it over with quickly. Tell them no, choke down a shabby breakfast, go home, go back to sleep because that would surely be all he could stand today. Yet the walk over was too short, the Nicollier townhouse gleaming in the morning sun, one within a row of identical homes. The butler showed him in, preventing him from indulging in any further hesitancy.
“The family is expecting you in the yellow parlor, Mr. Umbra. May I take your coat?”
”No. I won’t be staying long.” Tiberius strode past him and into the house. He knew it well enough to find his way by now. The room in question was comfortable, intimate. For hosting family, not guests. It would be the girl, then. Why it had taken the family months to produce her, Tiberius could not begin to guess. Really, he was particularly incurious on the subject.
In profile, she looked so much like her sister. Enough to stop him in his tracks, hovering uncertainly in the doorway until Mariette espied him and made a shrill greeting, launching up from her chair. The older woman hurried over to kiss the air on either cheek – in reality, more in the vicinity of his collarbone. All the Nicollier women he’d met were very short.
Tiberius ignored her, guided to an empty seat at the table by Mariette’s over familiar hand at the small of his back. He stared at her daughter, vaguely aware that he was being rude. The resemblance was distressing, a strange tension wrapped around his spine and forced itself down his throat. He– Men did not weep – and certainly not in front of these awful Orlesion vultures.
”I’m sorry. You’re, uh … Real, then?” He finally looked away, down at his plate. The smell of cooked meat was nauseating. His fingers clasped around the looped handle of a tea cup. If he could bear to touch it, it was too cold already. ”I hadn’t really thought so.”
Best to get it over with quickly. Tell them no, choke down a shabby breakfast, go home, go back to sleep because that would surely be all he could stand today. Yet the walk over was too short, the Nicollier townhouse gleaming in the morning sun, one within a row of identical homes. The butler showed him in, preventing him from indulging in any further hesitancy.
“The family is expecting you in the yellow parlor, Mr. Umbra. May I take your coat?”
”No. I won’t be staying long.” Tiberius strode past him and into the house. He knew it well enough to find his way by now. The room in question was comfortable, intimate. For hosting family, not guests. It would be the girl, then. Why it had taken the family months to produce her, Tiberius could not begin to guess. Really, he was particularly incurious on the subject.
In profile, she looked so much like her sister. Enough to stop him in his tracks, hovering uncertainly in the doorway until Mariette espied him and made a shrill greeting, launching up from her chair. The older woman hurried over to kiss the air on either cheek – in reality, more in the vicinity of his collarbone. All the Nicollier women he’d met were very short.
Tiberius ignored her, guided to an empty seat at the table by Mariette’s over familiar hand at the small of his back. He stared at her daughter, vaguely aware that he was being rude. The resemblance was distressing, a strange tension wrapped around his spine and forced itself down his throat. He– Men did not weep – and certainly not in front of these awful Orlesion vultures.
”I’m sorry. You’re, uh … Real, then?” He finally looked away, down at his plate. The smell of cooked meat was nauseating. His fingers clasped around the looped handle of a tea cup. If he could bear to touch it, it was too cold already. ”I hadn’t really thought so.”
03-30-2024, 03:23 PM
