Mag Paget, Shotgun Knight (clippedwing) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-24 02:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, lavitz fon amell, magnolia paget |
Who: Magnolia Paget & Lavitz fon Amell
What: Visiting the newborn puppies
Where: The Fon Amell Estate.
When: 1/14 (backdated)
Rating: G
Status: Complete!
There was something hauntingly familiar about having been absent during Zelda’s birthing, Lavitz realized, as he stood outside the gates to the estate. Something to do with parallels with Jozlyn and being away from her when she needed him, he was sure, but it wasn’t a topic he wanted to dwell on (a near impossible task when Mag reminded him so, so much of Jozlyn). The cowardice was strong, and it left a bitter taste in the back of his throat. But the puppies, and Zelda, were alive and well, so what did it matter? He blinked tired eyes and directed his gaze across cobblestone to seek out that familiar head of red hair. Not hard to spot in the crowd. When he looked her way, she raised a hand in greeting and jogged up to meet him at the gates, a parcel under her arm and a grin on her face. “Hi,” Mag said. Her breath ghosted in the air in front of her. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long in this Faram-damned cold.” She couldn’t help a curious glance in the direction of the fon Amell estate. Not once, in the years she had known Lav, had she been beyond the gates—though considering what she knew of Lav’s family, it was no surprise he preferred not to introduce them to his friends. The initial response was a brief smile. “What cold?” he shot back, amused, as he angled himself toward the large black gates. In truth, keeping friends out wasn’t the issue, but rather keeping those who weren’t of noble birth. His family didn’t turn their noses up in public, yet he knew how deep their snobbery ran. After all, he’d been subjected to it for forty years. Better not to irritate them and keep his friends, commoner or otherwise, away from the people who had hurt him most. “Everyone is out but the staff. My mother can barely stand to be on the same grounds as Zelda.” He wrapped a gloved hand around a thick metal rung and yanked. “But you wouldn’t want to meet them, trust me.” “Right.” She couldn’t help but agree with Lav’s words—she didn’t want to meet his family. Or rather, she didn’t want to make a scene, which she had a feeling would happen, inevitably, if she were to meet them. The way they treated Lav was unacceptable to her, and she didn’t have much faith in her ability to stop herself from confronting them, given the chance. As he pulled open the gate, she followed him inside. “I have my work cut out for me today,” she said, smiling to keep such thoughts away. “I have much cooing to do, I’m sure.” There was hardly a groan as the black gates were tugged shut, however slightly they’d been opened. Someone would secure them later, but that wasn’t Lavitz’s concern. His soft laugh condensed into steam. “Their eyes and ears are still closed now, but after a week they should start to open. Right now, they look like little steamed pork buns, buried in Zelda’s fur.” He would need to give her a trim, no doubt. Mag laughed at the analogy. “That is adorable.” They continued along the path to the estate, gravel crunching beneath their feet. The look in Mag’s eyes was a mixture of amusement and concern as she asked, “Are you feeling a little calmer, now a whole day’s passed?” He kept his eyes on the path while they walked. “A little,” came his agreement as he stuffed both hands into his coat pockets. “I know they’re just puppies, but,” he paused, breathing in deep. “I’m still waiting for myself to screw it up.” It was marked improvement that he was confessing anything at all. Again, Mag glanced at the estate. There was only the slightest hesitation before she looped her arm through Lav’s and leaned against him, hoping to comfort him somehow. “You won’t screw it up,” she told him. “Even if this is new for you, I know you’ve done your homework and you can always get a professional opinion when in doubt. It’ll be okay.” As they came to stand before the door to the estate, she let go and stepped a little to the side. The last thing Lav needed was for anyone in his household to get the wrong idea. Before Mag had let go, he squeezed her arm in thanks, unsure of what to say but meaning to prove his appreciation with something. The fon Amell estate was older than many of the nobles houses in the district, but beautiful nonetheless— marble floors and fine art along the walls, vases streaked with beautiful colours and fresh flowers lining the halls. A servant spotted him from afar, smiled in greeting, and scurried away. The servants had long ago learned Lavitz didn’t expect any special treatment unless it was in noble company. “I’m saving us from the cold by cutting through to the guesthouse,” he explained as he led them down the main corridor, past a grand, carpet-lined staircase. “That’s where Zelda and company are. I’ve left Marcella with her, but,” a soft laugh, “I’m half-convinced she’ll have cooed herself unconscious by now.” “Wonderful,” Mag said. “I think I might be joining her.” As they crossed the hallways, she tried to keep the curiosity off her face. Perhaps she should have expected something like this: the regal architecture, the chandeliers, the rugs that seemed to sink under her feet. Portraits of grave-looking lords and ladies were everywhere. Their linoleum eyes tracked Mag’s advance through the estate. Too cold. All she could think was Lav doesn’t belong here. The guesthouse had a warmer decor than the remainder of the mansion— it retained the same style, but somehow, it was more inviting, less stuffy with wide windows and soft curtains. Lavitz allowed Mag in first, moving toward one of the bedrooms on quieter feet. As they breached the threshold, a young, blonde servant peered up from her place kneeling on the floor, fingers tracing Zelda’s head. Her eyes lit up until she spotted Mag. “L-Lord Amell,” she fumbled, already moving to stand. From the look in her eyes, she couldn’t tell what sort of guest the redhead was, but Lavitz only smiled and shook his head, offering a gentle, “It’s alright, Marcella.” At his words, she relaxed considerably, moving toward them and smiling at Mag before she slipped past and out of the guesthouse. “I generally don’t bring guests here because of my family,” he offered by way of explanation, pausing and then adding, “You’re my first one in a long time.” Her attention had been snagged by the sight of Zelda and the puppies, but at Lav's words she turned to look at him. The servant's surprise gave her an inkling of just how long a long time was. "I'm glad you invited me." Mag smiled. "I'm only disappointed your family's not around so I can flip them the bird. I'm kidding," she added quickly, though she was not entirely sure that she was. The only thing that may have stopped her, given the chance, would have been the knowledge that she would only be putting Lav in a rough spot. She walked toward the puppies, trying to step as silently as she could, and sat down on the floor to look at them, a soft smile on her face. He followed just as quietly, dropping into a slow kneel next to the mother of the puppies, who nosed his knee in greeting. “Half of the time, I want to myself,” he admitted, stroking one of Zelda’s soft ears. “But the first time I ever outright disrespected and disobeyed them was bringing her into the house two years ago. She was a stray,” he said, softly. “Her owners had mistreated and abandoned her when they felt she’d outgrown her usefulness.” Lavitz lowered himself to the floor next to Mag. “Ever since, they’ve thought of her as something dirty and used. Something less than them.” His hand drifted under Zelda’s jaw. “Something that belonged with me.” Mag reached out to run a hand over Zelda’s soft back and smiled when she felt the dog relax at the touch. “Well, they’re wrong. She’s beautiful, and she isn’t less than them.” She looked at Lav, utterly serious now. “And neither are you.” Encouragements were always hard to digest, things Lavitz could hardly believe, having spent so long thinking otherwise, but in this moment, the statement struck a chord harder than it ever had. He saw so much of Jozlyn in Mag, more than he would ever care to admit, could practically hear Joz’s words coming out of her mouth, and yet-- this was Mag, not anyone else. She was here and Jozlyn wasn’t, still willing to stay with him despite it all, and for that, he’d never be able to thank her enough. Not for this, not for anything. Rather than saying anything, he reached over to take her free hand in his, and squeezed. |