Anthony Brennan ჯ Tristan (ofmisadventures) wrote in mythopoeics, @ 2012-05-01 21:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !event #019, !mini-log, isolde of the white hands, tristan |
thirty-five.
She had never felt so alone. Everyone that had ever mattered to Isolde was here, living and breathing. But entirely incapable of seeing that she existed. Instead, there was... that woman. Worse even than Iseult, perhaps even more than Gwynevere and Morgause and all the other rotten adulteresses combined: herself. Perfect, charming, and beautiful. In voice and in person.
Tempted to torture herself with the sight of her perfect self holding court with everyone the true her held dear, Bianca found herself waiting by the door, hoping Anthony would be arriving soon. The real Anthony, not the one who would lean over to give her duplicate sweet kisses and kind compliments. The memory made Bianca sniff with disdain. Her only consolation was that she hadn't been crying, though she'd come awfully close at the sight of Tristan and her mother. Even nonnino would not look her way... But she would be strong. For once in her life (lives), Isolde would be strong.
He'd woken up in bed with his wife. His proper wife, who looked upon him in such a manner that it made him believe he was in a dream. Five hours after that feeling, he realized it couldn't be and that, somehow, Isolde was with him. Forgiving him, welcoming him to herself. He uttered every apology that flew to his mind, he got on his knees and pleaded for her mercy and for her to allow him to make it up to her. And she gave it.
He had been late coming into work (no, nothing remotely naughty had happened - he wouldn't allow it). It was difficult to conceal the distraction around himself but when he saw Bianca, he tried to pull himself together for her.
"Like a cat waiting for her master to come so she can climb up his leg with her sharp little claws and demand food," he teased her. "Have you been waiting long? I'm sorry for being late."
Bianca was spared the need to explain when her double passed by with the false Tristan at her heels. Unable to resist a scowl at the sound of her double's lilting laughter, Bianca turned back to Anthony with desperation clear in her eyes. She put her index finger over her lips - 'don't comment, please'.
There was a crash upstairs, followed by Kaherdin's laughter. Isolde pressed her lips together, unconsciously putting her hand on Anthony's arm. More than anything, she wanted to leave. But there was nowhere to turn, except perhaps the stables. But still, she hesitated to summon the driver on her own - likely he would pass over her as all the others had in favor of her double.
His own hand came to cover hers the moment he saw his double and Isolde's. He so desperately wanted to say something, wanted to know what was going on, who she was and the laugh that felt so memorable didn't help. It all made the pieces connect that the Isolde back home was not real. This was a game.
How his heart ached over that.
There were very few people she could be if that was truly Kaherdin upstairs. She could be the very woman he wanted to seek forgiveness from or the woman Kaherdin had fallen for while he had returned over and over against to Iseult the Fair.
But the look on her face made him swallow all selfishness. Curling fingers around her hand, he lifted it to his lips. "Let's go away from here. You look as if you need some colour in your cheeks."
Too frazzled to even blush or feel giddy at Anthony's chivalrous act, Bianca nodded, already pulling Anthony to the door. She would ask no questions about what waited for him at home, and she hoped he would repay her silence in kind. She could hear someone starting the piano, her beautiful mother's dramatic soprano trickling through the thick walls. But Eloisa would not speak to Bianca because Bianca could not speak back.
Angry tears filling her eyes, she wrenched open the door with more force than necessary. No harm would come to nonnino or nonnina today - not with doubles of both Anthony and Tristan around to protect them, not with their darling daughter around to brighten their days as nothing had in a long, long time.
The sound of her mother's voice was horrifying (had the woman been brought back for the game?) and Tristan's sympathy overflowed at the unfairness of what Bianca had to face. For how long, he couldn't even be sure of that.
The Isolde at him was put out of his mind. She wasn't real and, therefore, there was such a little point in trying to win her over, wasn't there? The truly living and feeling Bianca needed him. A hand came to gently rest on her shoulder, partly to make sure she didn't just storm off without him in her misery. "Easy. Just take it easy, Bianca. This will pass."
That said, he then guided her to where the cars were kept with the intent to fetch one suitable for forgetting one's troubles in. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted her on a horse.
She was barely aware of where Anthony was leading her or the soothing words he'd spoken. Bianca was perfectly content to be led to wherever Anthony wanted, her heart a dull beat in her chest. All she needed to know was that Anthony was here, so she would be safe. Whatever was happening would pass.
It had to.
Backdated: April 25th