lord redwald vannes (charismata) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-10-10 11:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !narrative, redwald vannes |
WHO: Redwald & Hadrian Vannes.
WHAT: Two birthdays.
WHERE: The Vannes estate.
WHEN: Libra 17th, 1990 / Libra 17th, 2013.
WARNINGS: None.
STATUS: Complete.
“How long do you intend to stay up there, Redwald?” There was a rustling sound, followed by a shock of light brown curls as his youngest nephew peeked out from one of the knotted branches. His teeth sunk into his lower lip as he shrugged. “I dunno. Forever, maybe.” “Forever?” Hadrian’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “That’s an awfully long time to stay in a tree, Red. You may want to reconsider.” “I can do it,” Red insisted, meeting his uncle’s eyes with a challenging gaze. “I’ll stay up here until I’m a hundred and seven years old if I have to.” “Your father has never been an especially patient man. You may be willing to wait one hundred years, but he is not.” There was a pause before he added, in a softer voice: “In my experience, it’s always best to get the scolding over with as quickly as possible. Delaying it only makes it worse.” There were moments when Redwald sounded much older than his six — no, seven — years, but this was not one of them. He sounded exactly like the petulant, round-faced child that he was. “I don’t wanna get yelled at. It’s my birthday.” “Yes, it is. Best to hear what he has to say so the party can properly begin. All of your friends are here to see you.” “Tristan’s friends, you mean,” he said quickly, and Hadrian realized he didn’t have the heart to argue with him. The offspring of his parents’ friends were either too young or two old for him. They were either close to the older, much more affable Tristan, or, as Redwald put it, absolute babies. Not that Hadrian considered four and five year olds babies, of course, but there was no point in arguing with Red. He won every time. “I’m here to see you. I brought a present,” he added, changing the subject. “Yeah, I know. It’s my favorite present so far.” And that’s when the orator noticed the silver chain around Redwald’s neck. The boy opened up his little fist to reveal the pocket watch Hadrian had picked up from the jeweler's that very morning. It’s identical to the watch tucked away in his own jacket pocket, the one Red spent so much time admiring. Genuine shock crossed over his face — an usual sight, as Hadrian Vannes was known far and wide for being so unflappable. Redwald looked very pleased with himself. “You left it on the table in the foyer. I snuck in earlier for some water and—” “And no one saw you?” But the answer was obvious: the staff wouldn’t be combing through the house if someone had spotted him. His nephew shook his head; Hadrian smiled. (Later on, he would cite this conversation as the moment he knew his brother’s attempts to mold his youngest son into something fit for the Fighters Guild were a complete waste of time.) “Sulking on your birthday? What nice confirmation that nothing ever truly changes around here.” Redwald was currently sprawled out on an ornate and lumpy chaise in the study, silently cursing his mother for prioritizing appearance over comfort. He didn’t straighten up at the sound of his uncle’s voice (always so terribly impolite), but he did kick off his shoes with a grunt. “I’m not sulking. I’m relaxing. There is a difference, you know.” Hadrian took a seat across from his nephew and pursed his lips. “Your mother told me you turned down her offer to throw a party. That’s very unlike you.” The words hung in silence. Redwald reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch, polished and gleaming. He ran his thumb along the edge and frowned. “Is it?” “I’ve never known you to turn down an excuse for a party, Redwald. Even one thrown by your parents.” “I plan on throwing myself a — well, perhaps not a party, but a celebration. At a bar. Nothing too formal. I didn’t want to give her another excuse to throw her “suitable matches” short list at me again.” Hadrian chuckled quietly to himself, but it seemed more like he was laughing at his own private joke than anything Redwald had said. He pushed his glasses (horn-rimmed, of course) up the bridge of his nose and stared down at his nephew. It was a sharp, scrutinizing gaze many members of Parliament were intimately familiar with; Red didn’t appreciate being on the receiving end. “It isn’t funny,” Red snapped. “No one ever forced you into marriage.” “I was the youngest—” “I’m the youngest—” “Don’t interrupt,” Hadrian warned, in a tone that sent a jolt of fear up his nephew's spine. Red went silent. “I was the youngest and have very different inclinations than you. Perhaps your grandparents would’ve forced my hand if I’d made a point of seducing every young woman in the city, but…” The older man trailed off, smiling slightly. “You have more in common with your father than you’d care to admit, Redwald.” Red covered his face with his hands, groaning at the mental image of a young, womanizing Roland Vannes. “Disgusting. I don’t want to hear any more about his philandering. And you act as if you weren’t seducing all the men—” “That’s different.” “Is it?” “In any case,” Hadrian continued, “you’re going to be married off eventually. Better to be cooperative and pick someone yourself then end up with some obnoxious cow with a hefty inheritance.” Red snorted. “Why aren’t you running an advice column, Uncle? It’d be very popular.” Hadrian pointedly ignored him. “Your father would like a word, by the by. Something about a dinner for Tristan.” “Oh, good. A dinner for Tristan. That is exactly what I wanted to talk about today. I swear, I don’t know how he does it.” There was a pause before he added, with only a trace of hesitancy in his voice, “The long table in the foyer. There’s a box with your name on it.” His uncle cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Now there’s a birthday custom I’m unfamiliar with.” “Ha,” Red replied dryly, though his mouth was curling into a genuine smile. “It’s hard enough to get you in this damn house as it is, I thought it was best to take advantage of the opportunity.” “Smart boy.” Hadrian stood up from his chair and towered over his nephew, his eyes lit up with a mixture of amusement and affection. “Happy birthday, Red. Maybe this year you could try something new and novel. Acting your age, for example.” His nephew shook his head; Hadrian smiled. |