|
Musing
May 12, 2008 1:18:02 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 12, 2008 1:18:02 GMT -5
Iseabail smiled as she reread Armand's letter, spreading a bit of the substance in the jar on her neck. He hadn't had to, but he had thought of her. Even though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, the bruises did throb now and then. Her co-workers had asked what had happened, but she had just smiled and murmured something about choking herself in her sleep.
Pressing a kiss to the page, she put it on her desk, smiling. The snowdrop she pinned to the front of her dress (black, today, and a much more modern style than she usually wore), corsage-style. She shuffled through the papers on her desk, looking for a blank page to write a response to Armand's letter. Her gaze fell instead on her Tosca script.
As through drawn to it, Iseabail picked the book up, flicking through it at random. The book fell open to the exact bit she had used in the mountains. It was a bit ironic that while Tosca felt nothing for Scarpia, THIS Tosca felt everything for him. Without even noticing, Iseabail stared off into space, somewhere halfway between dreaming and thinking.
|
|
|
Musing
May 13, 2008 14:35:04 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on May 13, 2008 14:35:04 GMT -5
Iseabail's door was open and he leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching her. He smiled briefly at the flower pinned to her blouse and then wondered what had her so deep in thought. It had taken him a good hour to work up the will to come over and he didn't mind having to wait a few more minutes.
"Iseabail," he said finally to alert her to his presence.
|
|
|
Musing
May 13, 2008 16:24:25 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 13, 2008 16:24:25 GMT -5
Idomeneo, the first opera they had been in together. Armand, rather than relying on his royalty for parts, had wanted to work his way up the ladder through talent. So, instead of being cast in a lead, he had been cast as Arbaces, a role that did not require nearly as much as the others. Still, he had embraced his role and had done an excellent job. From that point on, he kept getting larger and larger roles and Iseabail had come to know him better each time they were in the same production.
She didn't know exactly when she'd fallen in love with Armand, but Iseabail knew that she had finally realized what was happening as Tosca started rehearsals. If she really wanted to be truthful with herself, she had fallen for him long before that. Iseabail smiled slightly: it had taken her a long time to realize her feelings; perhaps she'd been around Julien too much.
"Iseabail," his voice called. For a moment, Iseabail thought that she had simply remembered it. But it wasn't like a memory; his voice was much closer, in the room with her. Turning to the door, she smiled brightly.
"Armand," she murmured, standing up. "How are ye, annaschd?" Walking over to him, she gestured to a chair. "Ye can come in, if ye like, Armand." With a little bit of a laugh, she added, "Ye dinna have to wait for an invitation; ye are always welcome here."
|
|
|
Musing
May 13, 2008 16:46:18 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on May 13, 2008 16:46:18 GMT -5
He smiled softly. "I like to watch you."
He rejected her offer to sit, opting to stand instead. He tried not to look at the bruises on her neck, but it didn't stop the wave of guilt that rocked through him.
He took her hand. He hated to cloud the warmth of her room, of her, with this seriousness and the slight frown he was sure darkened his face. "Can we talk?" he asked anyway. He couldn't stand pacing around in his room any longer.
|
|
|
Musing
May 13, 2008 17:06:14 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 13, 2008 17:06:14 GMT -5
She blushed a bit at that response, smile curving her lips. Most people would consider that to be sort of creepy and stalkerish, but for a woman that spent most of her time on a stage, it seemed normal to her.
Even though she could sense the seriousness in him, she couldn't help but smile a bit as he took her hand. Being around him washed her with a sense of belonging, even if Armand did not feel the same about her as she did about him.
"Aye, of course, Armand," she murmured, a little bit worried about him now. "What's on yer mind?" she asked softly.
|
|
|
Musing
May 14, 2008 16:00:57 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on May 14, 2008 16:00:57 GMT -5
"I have something to say." He let go of her hand, clenched his fist, and grabbed hold of it again. "I....uh, love you." He froze, eyes widening. He hadn't meant to say that. He had meant to certainly, at some point in the conversation, but he'd intended to ease into it a little first. With a nice introductory paragraph, at least. He stared at her apologetically. There was no turning back now. "I do. At least, I think I do, because I've never actually been. In love, before, I mean. And I apologize for it. I tried not to do this to you, to myself, but I couldn't seem to find the discipline to stay away from you, and it made it worse."
He took a breath, steadying himself. "I thought that after Iker took over I'd be able to realize I was dangerous enough, that... that I'd have no choice but to end it. But then you, and Zizzy... it was because of you that he didn't overcome me. I need you. And how can I condemn what we have when it saved me?
"Iseabail," he stroked both her cheeks because he couldn't resist touching her any longer, "I love you like I've never loved anyone, and I need you to understand that I do, but.... but I love Zizzy too." He paused, averting his eyes. "You deserve better than that, Iseabail. And I can leave you alone as long as you know."
|
|
|
Musing
May 14, 2008 22:26:12 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 14, 2008 22:26:12 GMT -5
As Armand started to speak, Iseabail's heart almost stopped. She had interpreted that snowdrop the way that most people that had lived through the Victorian era would have: to signify hope. That's what it meant, after all, but perhaps Armand hadn't meant it to mean that. And then his next words did stop her heart for a beat. When it started again, it was beating far more rapidly than usual. Was she hearing things? Was this a dream? No, the hand holding hers was very real.
"Armand," she whispered, almost unable to speak. "Och, Armand, ye dinna need to apologize, annaschd." Laughing slightly, she squeezed the hand hers was in, happy tears starting in her eyes. "I didna make it easy for ye to avoid me, after all," she murmured.
Leaning into his hands, Iseabail looked up at Armand, finally able to stop concealing the full range of her emotions. Although, she had to admit that she didn't know Armand completely; Iker was a part of him, one that she didn't understand. However, she was willing to admit that, willing to remedy that, but not at Armand's expense. If it was going to happen, it would happen; if not, so be it.
Iseabail opened her mouth to say something, then closed it when Armand mentioned Zizzy. Wait a moment; Zizzy? Ah, of course; it made sense, now. But, what was she supposed to do? The man that she was in love with had just admitted that he loved her, too, but that he also loved someone else. Bloody men.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "I can never deserve better than ye, Armand," she said quietly, a hand under his chin, gently forcing him to look at her. "And I would be lying to ye if I said I havena been wishing, perhaps even praying to hear those three words from your lips." In truth, she had been praying for Armand's happiness, not her own. Was there some way to obtain both? It had seemed so, until he had said something about Zizzy. What now? Taking another breath, she continued, "I would hate to lose your friendship, Armand. To put it rather bluntly, I dinna exactly want ye to leave me alone." And now, it was time to bite the bullet. "All I want, Armand," she whispered, holding one of his hands, the other on his cheek, "is your happiness." Tears were starting down her cheeks now, but it had to be said. "If tha means leaving me alone for as long as either of us lives, then do it. Please, Armand; do what makes ye happy."
|
|
|
Musing
May 14, 2008 23:21:17 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on May 14, 2008 23:21:17 GMT -5
She was breaking his heart. He knew it would happen, had even prepared for it, but it still didn't make that ripping, tearing sensation any less painful.
"Please don't cry," he sighed, miserable, wiping away her tears. "Being away from you makes me unhappy. But hurting you like this makes me more unhappy."
|
|
|
Musing
May 15, 2008 0:04:23 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 15, 2008 0:04:23 GMT -5
If she could have stopped her tears on command, there was no doubt that she would have. As it was, she managed a weak smile. Her heart was breaking, even if she didn't know Armand's was. To love someone as much as she loved Armand and to be willing to give them up as long as they were happy...well, one couldn't really go through that without having one's heart broken.
Her tears lessened and she smiled again, a bit stronger this time. "Armand, when I'm around ye, my world lights up. I dinna ken what it would be like not to see ye, and I dinna think I want to try it." Going over to her piano bench, she sat down, pulling Armand with her. "If being away from me makes ye unhappy," she started softly, a hand on his cheek, "then ye can be near me whenever ye want to be." Iseabail gave him another smile, genuine this time. This was a difficult situation; she didn't quite know what to do, but she would do almost anything in her power to make Armand happy.
|
|
|
Musing
May 15, 2008 0:15:52 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on May 15, 2008 0:15:52 GMT -5
He didn't realize how physically weak he felt from all of this, until it took so little of Iseabail's strength to pull him over. He sank onto the piano bench, unable to tear his eyes away from her face. "You'll be unhappy for me," he said, unable to help the dark edge that crept into his voice, "to be happy. I hate that. Iseabail," he slid off the bench, on his knees before her; he would even their statures in any way possible. "You're killing me. Please tell me what an ass I am. And I know it's hard for you, but try and mean it." A ghost of a smirk appeared and was gone as soon as it had arrived.
|
|
|
Musing
May 15, 2008 0:29:42 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 15, 2008 0:29:42 GMT -5
"Och, Armand," she couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Being near ye makes me happy; trust me, it wouldna be any sacrifice on my part." Except for the fact that she would always know that Armand's heart wasn't hers, not really.
"And ye are right," she said simply. "Ye are an ass. But that doesna mean that I dinna love ye. No one is perfect and I ken that." Taking his hands, she looked into his eyes, smiling slightly. "Anything that makes ye happy, Armand, makes me happy; that's what I'm trying to say." There. She had found the words she was searching for, and they were the truth. Iseabail meant every word she had said.
|
|
|
Musing
May 15, 2008 0:42:28 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on May 15, 2008 0:42:28 GMT -5
"You're lying," he said, mostly referring to her first words. "But I know why you are. Your perfection frustrates me." Opting for a different way to vent his frustrations, he rose to meet her height, grabbing her to him and kissing her. Usually their kisses tended to start more gentle, tenative. But this was.... thorough.
|
|
|
Musing
May 15, 2008 1:11:19 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 15, 2008 1:11:19 GMT -5
"Why do ye think I'm lying Armand?" she started softly but she stopped talking as Armand kissed her. Even though she hadn't really been expecting it, Iseabail wasn't surprised. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she responded to his kiss, pressing close to him. Maybe it wasn't fair, but for once, she didn't care.
|
|
|
Musing
May 15, 2008 1:25:15 GMT -5
Post by Miss Jack on May 15, 2008 1:25:15 GMT -5
He pulled away, for oxygen only, but his cheek stayed pressed to hers, his breathing labored. "I'm not choosing Zizzy over you," he whispered against her neck. "But I'm not choosing at all." He clutched onto her, not pulling her to him, but just holding on, as if she'd float away if he didn't. "I'm killing us both."
|
|
|
Musing
May 15, 2008 1:46:19 GMT -5
Post by Maestro on May 15, 2008 1:46:19 GMT -5
She missed him when he pulled away, but yes, air was necessary to live. Stroking his hair, she tried to figure out what to say to that, but it was hard. It was hard to find the right words, but she'd rather have part of Armand than none of him. Better to have loved and lost, she thought, remembering the tired, but true, cliche.
The arms around her were strong and she held him, too. "If ye are," she whispered, pulling back to look him in the eyes, "I'll die happy." She kissed him, hoping to distract them both. While she was quite happy, there was some part of her that wasn't. She locked it away and kept it hidden, making sure none of it showed.
|
|