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A Brother's Message [27/12]
Topic Started: Apr 11 2011, 05:49 AM (405 Views)
Asterie de Sauveterre
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She waited until the day following her conversation with Leal to begin. Haste might bring attention unwished for, and Astérie kept that matter of notice in mind she set quill to paper as well. The note subsequently penned to Tambour spoke of a truth conveniently to hand in the moment, a veil across her real reason for sending it. The adept had often helped her in evaluating herbal products she created, and thus:

Tam,

The muscle balm we were discussing recently is ready. If you are still interested in trying it, please feel free to visit if you have the time today.

Astérie


A servant slipped it beneath the door of Tam's room in the adept's sleeping quarters. And Astérie went about her day's work, waiting.
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Tambour no Valerian
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Tam arrived in the mid-morning, with a soft "hullo" to announce his presence. That he was awake when much of the House was asleep wasn't so very unusual - he'd kept his early habit of rising with the sun, with rare exceptions.

Not dressed for assignation, he wore loose trews in lightweight grey wool and a soft tan shirt with an open collar, suitable for flitting about the back corridors of the House or perhaps for tending herbs, and his hair was in a loose braid down his back.

Seeing Astérie alone and occupied, he waited for her to finish with an insouciant grin, holding her note up to inform her of why he'd come. "I am your willing subject," he said, by way of introduction, and batted his eyes.
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Astérie looked up from the conclusion of the report she had been penning to see Tambour framed in the doorway. With his words and fanning lashes, he coaxed a laugh out of her in spite of the faint tendrils of unease curling through her stomach. Reflecting upon it a short time earlier, she was unable to pinpoint specifically why she felt uneasy, simply that she did. It was nothing in isolation and too many things when gathered together, resulting in a vague, yet undeniably present, experience. But yes, she laughed. Tam was like that.

"Good morning, Tam. Thank you for coming. Please, feel free to seat yourself." She gestured across her desk to the chairs the short distance across the rooms "I will fetch the balm in but a moment."

So saying, Astérie cleaned the quill she had been using, putting it away afterward and tucking the paper into a drawer. Standing in a faint swish of skirts, she exited the study into the outer room of the healer's quarters.

The sound of the opening and closing of a cabinet later, and the young woman reappeared with a small earthenware jar in hand. Quietly shutting the door, she came to sit in the other chair next to where she had gestured Tam. The jar of balm cradled now in the fingers of both hands, rather than extend it to the adept, Astérie instead spoke. "There is also another reason I wished to speak with you, Tam. Yesterday. . .Leal was here."

And with that, she fell silent, giving him a moment to digest that before continuing on.
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"Of course." Tam smiled and half-bowed again, and as Astérie occupied herself by bustling about in one of the other rooms, settled easily in a chair, sitting with straight spine and unconscious grace, and following her with a light, curious gaze. She, after all, was not a patron and did not require averted eyes.

He waited, though, for her to extend the jar, and was mildly alarmed when she not only did not, but seemed unhappy. Upset, perhaps, for her reserve seemed deeper than usual.

Her words showed the reason. He did not shift, but it was only through long training's effect, and his eyes went abruptly sad before he hid them in Valerian's trademark modesty, fixing his gaze on the table's glossy surface instead.

"My brother the Cassiline." He found some humor somewhere and put it on parade in his voice, beside genuine fondness and an uncharacteristic reluctance. "Dear Leal. I hope he's well?" He glanced up again, sadness consumed by concern; hopefully Leal's visit had not been prompted by a bout of illness.
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She could tell the words impacted him, in how his eyes changed and dipped, for all the amiable notes of the tone that followed after. But then Tam looked up again.

"Dear Leal. I hope he's well?

Recognizing somewhat different in his gaze then, Astérie hurriedly shook her head. "Oh, no, he is not ill. His ward was visiting the House and I happened to see him when--" One of her hands evoked movement then, as she thought of passing by the retainer's quarters. But the errand that preceded it did not really matter and she spoke on without completing that sentence. "We spoke for a time. And he asked me to give you a message. He said to tell you, that he loves you, and that he is sorry."
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He loves you; and he is sorry.

There was almost nothing else she could've said that was so heartwrenchingly, perfectly, him. Nothing else that was so Leal, the brother he'd followed for so long. Tam wanted at once to rush out and find his brother, and tell him there was nothing to be sorry for - after all, they were both what inclination and training had made them, and the world was wide before them yet - and to rise and return to his room, all the words unsaid.

But the pressure could not hold for long; it was part of his persona, part of his charm, to show what he felt. As cruelly as the whip did he feel his brother's words, given softly in Astérie's voice, and so his brow crumpled and he laughed but softly, eyes shining with the sting of it. "Oh Leal."

It took him a short time to master himself, but he did; slowly he dragged his attention back to her face, and by the time it was there, the torn expression was gone. In its place, something too somber for joy, too deep for humor; too high for sorrow. "Thank you, for delivering his message." He rose and knelt before her chair, offering his arms in unselfconscious embrace.

"Do you suppose - if he had the time, or Lady Felice was here - that he'd consent to meet with me?"
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Astérie sat, silent and still, as Tam took in the message, the adept internally melding it with a life's history that she could only begin to guess at. The meager glimpse she had lay in his reaction the night of the Masque. Tam seemed shaken then after his abrupt encounter with his brother. Shock may have been the major hand at play in that interval, yet seeing him now, she doubted that it was the only one. Her heart twinged when he laughed as he did, the sound of it anything but joyful.

When he came to kneel before her chair, arms spread, Astérie leaned forward to hug him. "You are welcome." It was a near whisper, in consideration of how close she spoke to his ear. How very like Tam it was, in spite of the emotional turmoil he must be in, to be gracious to others in the midst of it nevertheless.

Realizing she still had the little jar of balm fisted in one hand as she sat back, the chirurgeon quirked a look at it and then held it out to the adept. "It really is done," she said.

"Do you suppose - if he had the time, or Lady Felice was here - that he'd consent to meet with me?"

What could she say to that, save forge on with the truth? "I asked him much the same thing," she replied gently. "It seems Leal is not quite ready for that just yet." She did not waste any time though, in relating what little she had to temper such a response. "But he awaits a message for you in return, should you have one. Even a letter. He said he could write a letter in return."
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Tam took the little jar and turned it over and over. "Thank you; I'll be sure to give you all my observations." That was in a more normal tone, and he stood, careful not to jostle the table or the physician.

"Then I shall write him a letter." That decision took no time at all, and Tam nodded firmly to seal it, sending golden wisps of hair flying. "I hate to ask you to be our go-between; that can't be a comfortable position." His brow furrowed again, this time with concern, as he retreated and sat at the other side of the table. The little jar he placed and spun, placed and spun, making a rhythmic sound to undercut the tension.

He loves you and he is sorry. That, at least, made the 'sorry' make much more sense. But Leal was a Cassiline, through and through, if he could even turn down the brother who'd followed him everywhere.

He wasn't ready to be followed, just now. Maybe later. There were patrons like that; who had to be led gently through their own treacherous desires. Tam would wait, and when the time came, perhaps he would lead.

"Is there anything else I may do for you, Astérie?" He covered the distress that still lingered with flirtation, batting his eyes again and showing a narrow smile.
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"I hate to ask you to be our go-between; that can't be a comfortable position."

The sound of earthenware gyrating upon the tabletop was a tease to the ear, but Astérie spared it only a glance before looking back to Tam. She smiled and shook her head.

"You needn't ask. I offered my help to Leal and I offer it to you as well. When you have your letter ready, I shall see to it that he receives it." Her expression was firm as she said it. It was a little enough thing; less than she wished she could offer, but what was needed now nevertheless.

"Is there anything else I may do for you, Astérie?"

She should have expected such a thing from Tambour. He was like a flower stretching for the sun, in how he always seemed to seek a return to good cheer no matter the gravity of a situation. It was not that he made light of things that should not be, no. It was more deft than that. Deciding there was little to gain in doing otherwise just now, Astérie followed him in that vein and pointed at the spinning balm with mock-severity. "You might begin by not breaking my poor jar."

The young woman did watch the jar whirl for a moment then. Something in its movement jogged her memory and her gaze rose.

"Actually. . . there is a matter on which I would appreciate your opinion. If you have a little time more?"
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"Oh, of course!" It had been a nervous fidget, nothing more, and at Astérie's words Tam caught it up and held it in cupped hands. "Safe as Naamah's doves." He slatted his fingers that the physician might peek in, or the jar out, as if it were a bird that might escape.

"All the time I have is yours." At that he became a little more serious, closing his hands again, and if his grip was too tight, surely it was no threat to the tough pottery of the jar.
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"Safe as Naamah's doves."

"Ah, so now I am to watch it soar through the air?" Astérie gave him an amused look, before her face took on a more thoughtful cast.

"I know not all of the adepts can read and write," she began at last. "Do you think though, that any of those that cannot would be interested in learning, if the opportunity was there?" Tilting her head, she peered at Tam questioningly.
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Tam laughed, and despite the seriousness of their earlier conversation, there was no bitterness to the sound. Nor was there much trace of mirth as he thought over her question, taking a moment before response. He stilled his hands so as not to threaten the stoneware jar, all save one finger that tap-tapped silently.

"Oh. I'm sure some would. Revanche, perhaps, is always seeking for more - Seraphin, maybe? He seems a likely lad..." He thought, and offered up a few other names. "I doubt that many would turn down the opportunity to better themselves." He tilted his head in an odd mirror of her action, face gone dreamy. "And maybe some day they will write their own memoirs, and make a thousand D'Angeline students blush," he offered, impishly.
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Astérie listened to what Tam said, nodding thoughtfully and committing the suggested names to memory as well.

"And maybe some day they will write their own memoirs, and make a thousand D'Angeline students blush."

"If they wish it, then why not?" she agreed, smiling a little. "Thank you, Tam. . .I am glad to hear an adept's perspective on the idea." Absently putting out a hand, she adjusted the position of a vase settled on the tabletop. "It has been so quiet the past few days, it gave me more time to think on the notion."
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