mathieu trinket. (flauto) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-06-30 13:18:00 |
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His invitation had been written neatly by her, nothing that betrayed any indication of the plans she had prepared for him in the evening (the envelope had, however, come with colourful confetti that would be notoriously hard to clean after — the mage hoped it had made him smile). Esther had been meticulous about the details of this dinner, toeing the line between social formalities and them with their lack of boundaries and expectations, all glee and mischief. This was not just a party for anyone, it was Mathieu’s birthday and she wanted to make it memorable for him. To shut the entirety of the world in favour of their own (how they managed that was their secret). Luckily, the gardens of the Glass estate had escaped most of the damage, and in the more secluded areas they were virtually untouched. There, in one of those private areas, magicite crystals hung from the trees, illuminating the area in beneath the darkened sky. A tent of fine mesh had been set out with cushions and a low table inside, dinner had been a choice of dishes from Kerwon and Ordalia — most of them sweets. For entertainment, Esther had chosen a small band with string instruments only (the flute was Mathieu’s and his alone in her eyes). And for the moment everything else was forgotten but them (not two halves of a whole, but always themselves — two people orbited around one another with the certainty of the rise and setting of the sun). For Mathieu, the day had seemed a perfect anniversary celebration and reprieve from his usual frantic schedule. Duties as a councilor were delayed, if only for a short while, for the sake of this event. Lounging back on the cushions like a pleased cat, he held his goblet lazily, swirling the liquid as he took in the music, and the shimmering magicite lights, and the infinite comfort gained from the presence of his generous friend. Even after so many years, he reflected to himself, nothing had managed to penetrate this, their world apart. While time wreaked havoc on everything else, this would always remain to bring him peace. “I must thank you again for this,” he said, looking over to Esther, his eyes shining. “My dear Lady Glass, today was more than I could’ve asked for.” "No more than you deserve," There was no greater pleasure for her than to see him relaxed and content (world affairs forgotten, the city was not in ruins here nor was there death or loss). "Do you remember when we wreaked havoc in these same gardens? But you always managed to use your wit and get us out of most trouble." There were a few things no one could escape from, but for the most part they managed quite well. She reached across, fingers brushing his arm lightly before moving to steal a sweet from the plates. “The servants they sent were never quite fast enough to catch us, as I remember,” Mathieu said, and now he too seemed interested once again in the many platters of food provided. “And you were always the greatest co-conspirator! I should say, they never even realized the most of our adventures.” The gardens of Glass estate held in them an abundance of memories, a collection of fond histories sewn about every tree and hedge and stone pathway. Even now he could still strive to map them all out, years spent here confiding in each other and creating the sort of mischief that had gradually lessened over the years, as time worked to mold each individual into adulthood. This place, perhaps, was only one further aspect of the bond between them. “What ever would I do without you?” Said in harmless jest--as if such a whim of a notion was possible. The concept of separation was rejected and filed away as an impossibility, despite the changing circumstances. "Work yourself to the bone, dear heart." His appointment to the council made her both immensely proud and worried (because he was more than capable but Esther hated to see his freedom curbed by duties). Inescapable as those responsibilities were for them both, it made nostalgia strike. "But we will never have to worry about that." Except that was an open lie they both knew and Esther cleared her throat trying to steer the topic somewhere else. "Do you find all the sweets to your liking? Enough to satisfy your sweet tooth?" “I may very well find myself sick to the stomach by the end of,” and here he took another Kerwonian brandied chocolate in his mouth, savoring the flavor while he thought, “well, by the morning!” Winding his attention around to the musicians, or more precisely, the music they were instructed to play that evening, Mathieu’s curiosity was drawn in a natural way. So many other things in life had greatly altered, he knew, as he once was a performer himself, a bard of rising fame--and now. Now everything of his once-predicted fate in the guild had changed. For something far greater or far more terrible perhaps, but even after the short time spent on the council Mathieu understood he was not the same young man he had once been. “Shall we sing for a while, you and I? One of our favorites, if you’ll humor me a while,” he smiled mischievously at Esther, giving off a boyish air for a moment. Her hand encircled his wrist, an unspoken reply to his request (because he could ask for the moon and she would most certainly try). "I apologise in advance for any damage to your eardrums." Far more shielded than Mathieu, the changes Esther had undergone were of my slight different nature and while she reflected on these she had not fully accepted them. “Nothing of the sort,” he reassured her quickly, and Mathieu’s hand slid to take Esther’s in a casual sign of affection. With a nod and a word to the musicians, the music around them came to a sudden halt before striking back up in an old and familiar tune. Feeling light from the alcohol he had imbibed and the sweets and sugar he had eaten over the course of the evening, the councilor sang in an easy-going manner. No public performance was this, no absolute mask of cheer and competency necessary--here, he was most certainly himself. She followed his lead, nowhere near as skilled with her voice as he (truthfully she was halfway distracted with hearing his voice more than focusing on her own). This moment was theirs, tucked away as part of a repertoire of memories that defined their relationship. Wulfram could watch them all he wanted, but he would never really fully comprehend the complex web that had been spun. It wasn't frail - it was anything but that. When the song finished, Esther pulled close and kissed his cheek, lingering more than what would be considered proper before she nuzzled him in a fit of childish affection. "Happy birthday, dear heart." “And here’s to a great many more,” Mathieu said, raising up his goblet. “Faram willing!” |