Don't Hesitate
Simon slammed open the door of the Aviary and made a direct route for Berdette, brandishing the days paper. Perfectly content to completely ignore the assorted staff and customers, he positioned himself directly in front of the woman and began to read aloud from the days headline:
"Mad Dogs Ravage London - Last night in the evening, around the hour of ten pm..." Oh this was taking too long, Simon thrust out the paper towards her and began to paraphrase, "It says there were six for certain, maybe more, wild animals unleashed into the city killing and wounding a number as of yet unknown! Berdette, were you out last night? Did you see the things? I swear upon my soul if I have ever seen such a creature--"
He cut himself off, taking a breath as if trying to steady himself still from the sheer thrill of such an unknown. Simon gave a strange breathless laugh, turning the paper over before continuing, "They were not dogs, Berdette. I don't know what they were, but they absolutely were not dogs. Not like any kind of animal I'd ever seen before! When it killed this girl, in front of us, it laid her body down and brushed the hair from her face! I swear to you I saw it with my own eyes, Madame! My colleague and I were lucky to have escaped with our lives the beast was so wild!"
He shakes his head in some level of awe, at which point he realises that just about every other soul in the place is staring at him. For a moment he considers changing his approach, before dismissing the thought and looking back to Berdette, waiting for her to take the paper from him.
They could only hope for scandal, but Berdette would give them no such satisfaction. A patient smile was on her face as she said softly to the shocked customer, " Please excuse my husband's friend, he tends to get rather excited about the papers. " She gestured for her shop assistant to come forward, giving the prettily dressed girl the order of, " Please help Ms. Harrowith find the pomade she is in dire need of. I must attend to Mr. Alexander. " A murmur went through the ladies at that, Mr. Alexander? Simon Alexander?... Wasn't he the rude obnoxious one at Lady Ellison's party?... Oh yes, he argued with that /American/... I hope Mrs. Daugney isn't getting mixed up in that sort of company
With years of practice behind her Berdette gracefully ignored the tittering surrounding Simon's rude entry. She made her way to the door to the office, tilting her head at him to follow; her expression was perfectly painted, but the tensing muscle in her jaw suggested something other than serenity. With no fuss she unlocked the door and entered, taking a seat behind the feminine desk that was the center of a tastefully decorated room. Behind her was a glass cabinet of the most frivolous and detailed flacons, each resting snugly in its own holder. A grandmother clock sat ticking quietly near the door frame.
Simon ignored the tittering and gossip as well, although for different reasons. He didn't really object to the prospect of ruining Berdette's reputation, but the truth was he rather subscribed to the theory that if you were rich enough and smart enough then the opinions of those surrounding you were absolutely meaningless. He followed Berdette into her office, folding the paper under his arm as he did so, "Your husband's away then, Mrs. Daugney?" He asked, a moment before he shot the door behind them, allowing a little validation for her lie before ensuring their privacy. Once the door was shut he rolled his eyes and turned back towards the desk, giving her a slightly unimpressed look, "Coward."
This said, he walked towards her and laid out the newspaper on the desk before her, now carefully ennunciating as he spoke, "A Werewolf. In London. Maybe more than one even, I saw the creature myself, Berdette, the thing was unbelievable! Completely unnatural! Have you heard any of this? Sensed or seen it?" He paused then, looking thoughtful, before fixing her with a more purposeful gaze, "Madame, do you practice divination?"
" Coward? In case you have forgotten, Mr. Alexander, some of us prefer to not be pariahs of society. Not to mention that I am, obviously, a woman, so if I were to be as rude and inconsiderate as you, I might as well cast off my petticoats and go live in some filthy hovel. " Once her rage was politely spent, Berdette turned her attention to the newspaper that was spread out in front of her. She nibbled on her lip in thought, trying not to be too disappointed she had missed out on werewolves. Looking back up at him, she said, " Of course I am aware of them, Simon, they were part of my education as many other supernatural creature. " Berdette glanced back down at the paper and frowned, continuing, " No, I am afraid I do not practice divination. It's rather unreliable, if what I have been told is correct, and I am sure you understand. "
She stood from her seat then, looking down at him so they might meet eye-to-eye. " What is it you wish to divine? I cannot say that such a large attack is mundane to me. " Forgetting who she was with and where, excitement bubbled out of Berdette and she clasped her hands together with glee, " Just imagine! I bet the numbers swelled. Wouldn't it be a fantastic thing to be a werewolf? A dual nature to the absolute extreme. "
"You're a married woman, and you're rich. People can not remove your freedoms simply by disapproving of the company you keep. Indeed, you chain your own hands with your fear of revelation, nothing more." Simon paused then, supposing that if nothing else, she might actually enjoy the company of the rich and idle. He gave a slight shrug, pulling his shoulders up and then releasing the tension from them in one stroke, "I never had much time for tying my own hands. If it closes other avenues to me then I can choose a different path when I get to that point."
He frowns slightly at the comments on Divination, "The only thing unreliable is human interpretation. If you are competent then you won't be led astray by what you find. You should start with Tarot. It'll become something quite valuable to you eventually. I was hoping to ascertain from where they descended from, or some sign of why they came now and not... god knows, a month ago, or two months, or why they have not roamed the streets every night since they were first made." He smiled slightly as Berdette began to gush, finding himself drawn easily into her enthusiasm. It was fascinating, there were no two ways about that, but he wasn't entirely sure he could agree with all of her sentiments on the matter, "Fascinating perhaps. Unbearable more likely. To lose all control of yourself... no, I don't think I'd care much for that."
In a rather nervous fashion Berdette licked her lips and leaned in just a smidge closer to Simon. The look in her eyes was manic only briefly, and her usual cool half-amused expression fell back into its place. " That is why it is so fascinating. No matter how tightly you reign yourself in, once a month you have no choice in the matter. To run wild and do unspeakable acts in the streets or in the forests with animals and then! And then not even remember, not have the guilt on your conscience. Have you ever regarded the topic of maenads? Such chaotic tragic creatures."
She pulled away from him after that, considering his other statements. The ineptitude he suggested was quite ridiculous, and she waved away the suggestions of Tarot with her hand. " I know how, Simon, it's just not relevant to my own personal tastes. I'm well rounded in that manner, like you might of been taught to play the piano even if you hate it. Well... " she gave him a slightly snobbish look " maybe not. But that isn't the point. The point is... how is it you came to this practice of magic? I've been wondering, as while I'd like to think my own circumstances are unique... they may in fact, be not. " Berdette didn't mention her ego would be a tad deflated if how she learned maleficium was common place, relatively speaking. The depths of her knowledge she had attained over years and years, her formative years. Magic was all she could think about, her greatest hobby and obession. How dare he think she had fallacy in any portion of it?
Simon couldn't resist the grin which crept across his face listening to Berdette's words, "Are you perhaps suggesting that there is an element of the mad woman about you, Mrs Daughney? Or simply that you wish you had the freedom to indulge like one?" He gave a slight shake of his head, leaning back slightly, expression irritatingly pleased with himself, "I think you only dream of these things because you live a pretence. You pay your lipservice to those good women, and the price is to wonder something almost akin to envy for those cursed creatures. I have done wild things in forests before, and I know no guilt for them."
"What are your tastes, Madame?" Simon asked, turning now to glance around the room, as though searching it for some evidence of her intentions in the decor, "To dismiss all divination on the rumor that it's unreliable does not strike me as most well rounded, but I suppose if you prefer to resign yourself to petty cantrips then it might not prove valuable to you." He turned to glance back at her, more than happy to fight snobbery in kind before turning back to his process of inspecting her room. He didn't turn back to look at her upon hearing her question, instead answering even as he proceede through her belongings, "I came to the art... when all other things proved fleeting and obvious upon inspection." He said softly, "When I found that the pleasures of the flesh could only move me so far, and found that the motions and cycles of the physical plane would cycle on forever beneath my feet. There is all the time in the world to look at that which is tangible, and any man or woman with a brain in their head can touch that which is solid and real under their fingers. The Christian God is a closed book, read ten times over by priests and protestants, but what we do..." Still looking away from her, he smiled, "What we reach for is a universe yet undiscovered. The path which at it's extremities has not been trod at all. The moment I realized that? I was forever starving for it."
Finally he turned for face her again, his expression neutral, bored even, "You bury yourself alive in this shit."
Berdette gave him quite a serious look... then dissolved into giggles, resting her hand upon her stomach. She moved in closer to him without faltering, the amusement still expressed in a wide smile. So simple was he then, to not look for what was /not/ there rather than what was. There were no doubts he was intelligent, but perhaps convoluted people with hundreds of faces were not his own specialty. If being blunt was his way of surviving, then being a little bird on someone's shoulder was hers. Who was wrong, in either case?
" Honestly, Simon, I'd like to think you are clever. Is it so difficult to understand why I would present to you, a woman trapped with 'pretense' and marriage? Yes? It is 'shit'? Then so it is, and I don't need to pull back anymore curtains. You can be happy with the picture you have painted and not have to start with a fresh canvas. It can be a relationship that doesn't even brush the core. " She shook her head briefly and twisted her fingers into the layers of her clothing, her words barely coming out above a whisper, " No. I suppose you will take this intrigue and tell me to shove it up my derriere. I use my magic to hurt people, Simon, and I am /very/ good at it. "
Simon drew back his head at her words, half tempted to back away but cursed with just a touch too much arrogance to succumb to the desire. He watched her, for a moment, lost in consideration. It made sense at least. A more satisfying piece to solve the puzzle than just that she was a coward. Slowly, he allowed himself to speak, "So what for me would be inconvenience, for you is necessity." He stated it without hesitance or question in his voice. It made sense. Many of those young and rich in London had been known to dabble in the arts, and while it was true that not so many took it as far as he did, there were enough of them at least that he saw no reason to be secretive of it. He was curious, a man forever intrigued with the world, amoral perhaps, but rarely harmful in what he did. The only reason for Simon to hide what he did would be out of shame. To assimilate.
For a woman on the other hand, to practice behind a sheen of the mysterious and frivolous would be one thing, but to invite inquiry into an art devoted to harming others? If what she did was revealed then it would be more than her name that was ruined. She could be destroyed by it.
Even as that question was lain to rest though another dozen were created. While Simon didn't much care what morals a person held themselves too, to use the arts to hurt people seemed to him... almost wasteful. How many people were there who she could possibly want to see hurt in the world? Even in a life lived brimming with spite and rudeness Simon had few true enemies. Cocking his head slightly, Simon asked, "Why?"
Moving away from him once more, she rolled her shoulders in a shrug and raised her palms in mock defeat. He had figured her out, oh no! What was she to do? Kill him?... Berdette glanced over at him briefly, it would be a waste. What wild things could he have done when he asked such a question? Child's games of sex that were meaningless and perhaps vaguely pleasant. Boring. Caressing a sculpture of a flower with idle fingers, she said, " I'm just curious, like you. I want to see what tips people to the point of murder or tears or even insanity. I suppose you could say it is in my blood, this warping. Does peace really inspire passion, Simon? I think not. "
Returning to her chair and habitually crossing her ankles, Berdette rested her cheek on her fist and thoughtfully stared at Simon. Would he dare go past the point of no return, or walk straight out of that door and return to his life doing good. She wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter. " I must be a mad woman, to you. A runaway from the asylum. That is the problem with preconceptions, I fear. Now don't hesitate, tell me what you do with your own wizardry. "
Simon frowned. For a long moment he just stared at her, his expression completely immovable. He declined to respond to her suggestion of what he thought of her. Was she mad? Perhaps. Truly there was a certain madness in anyone who chose to pursue what they pursued, and one only heightened by one who pursued it to her personal goals. For him? There was nothing to be achieved, nothing to be gained from using what he'd learned to harm people... but she was right about one thing. There was more to be learned. Things which until this very moment it had not occurred to him that he might want to know, even now he wasn't certain that he was prepared to search for those answers first hand...
He didn't move forward, didn't go to sit with her, instead he lingered on the boundary between her world and the one outside of it. "What have you found?" He asked, finally, "What does tip people to the point of murder, or tears? What tips people to the point of insanity." His voice was soft, careful. Hanging somewhere between faintly mocking, and genuinely intrigued
Berdette's excitement returned, and she gave him a bright smile, " That is why you don't regulate your questing to moral boundries. These things that cannot be answered with a polite survey or an enchantment that forces the truth. How can you watch the process, understand the turning of gears when it happened ages ago, or it has not happened at all? As a rude and spiteful man, surely you understand that you are hurting people already. Every blunt statement you've ever made makes a small... " she brings her fingers and thumbs almost together to illustrate, " small chink on the 'armor' people wear to protect themselves from people like you. However, even the tiniest pinprick can cause everything to come CRASHING down. And that is when the real armor is built, with thoughts of revenge and this-will-never-happen-again. "
" People are much more complex then the five word answer I could of given you for that question. One can only hope to draw from their personal experiences something that will satisfy their curiosity. How far would you go for the nasty truth? Sacrificing one for the thousands? "
"I prefer to think of it as producing their armor for them, forging it, if you will. Giving them a reason to be a little thicker skinned than they were before." He said this lightly, still almost disinterested, but undeniably engaged by her words. Turning slightly, he began to study Berdette with a new intensity, slowly, ever so slowly, walking towards her desk. "You... you find this out then? You break people just to watch how the pieces fall?" He gave a half laugh, almost trying to disapprove of himself for not leaving.
"I--" He cut himself off, laughed, looked behind him to the door, considering it once again, before finally forcing his attention back to her again, "I think... I think I'd like to watch you work. If you don't mind."
That was when she knew she won; despite any attempts of covering it with disinterest on his part. The burning desire to know was there, no matter how small a flame, and it begged to be exploited into a firestorm. " Yes. I will arrange something, and you can consider it a demonstration for one. I believe that is all? " Rather abruptly, she moved to the door and rested her fingers on the knob. " I have much business to attend to, Mr. Alexander, and the time we have spent together alone so far is quite scandalous. My ladies expect something to titter about, not something worthy of blacklisting. I'm sure you can understand, my livelihood depends on it. "
Simon gave a slight nod, and walked to the door, perhaps for the first time since they'd met not actually trying to compete with her a little. At the door, he hesitated for a moment, turning to her one last time, "I'm sure you'll know how to contact me when you're ready. I look forward to your demonstration, Mrs Daugney." With this said, he stepped out the door, and bade her goodbye.