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A fabled play [11/1, evening]; Charlène Lemaine's house
Topic Started: Jun 26 2011, 02:47 PM (396 Views)
Damon Neville
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During the winter season, people were always more prone to pay closer attention to art and attend the after parties that were thrown in its honour. After all, what else was there to do when the weather forbid outdoors activities than to pretend to enjoy the more sophisticated pursuits available in civilized society?

He did not know the playwright herself; one Delphine Chasseau - reputedly lover to Charlène Lemaine, her patron in art and host of the after party - but he did know another former Eglantine adept who was a friend of the playwright. He kept getting these invitations with relative frequency, more out of pity than anything else he suspected. He had scorned them at first, too proud to accept pity from anyone. But as the years went by, he found that sitting home alone, scarcely able to afford the wine needed to drink himself into a stupor, even accepting such charity was better than sitting home alone, drowning in self loathing and cheap wine. Better to go out and find distractions, taking what advantage he could of his past fame, for however long that lasted.

He was not so lavishly clad as some of the people in the gathering, having decided that it was better to wear something plain but clean and new than old garments that were worn and out of fashion besides, trying to pretend at a standard he obviously could not maintain any longer. The dark brown waist length leather jacket was a pleasing shade with a slight reddish tint, but held no ornaments save the silver buttons. Underneath was a high necked tunic in mauve with black embroidery around the neck and the hem lines. The woolen hose were just a shade darker than the jacket and tucked into high, polished riding boots. His hair was flowing loose, also treated with some sort of oil to acquire a particular shine and his only jewelry were the silver rings he usually wore.

With a glass of sweet desert wine in one hand, he stood leaning against a pillar in one corner, trying to survey the cliques of people shaping up in the reception room. Space had been cleared, but there were small, round tables and armchairs scattered here and there. He had been here before, but it had been a while since the last time, now. The crowd was partly the same, there were any number of new people too, whom he did not recognize.
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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"--see you in Marsilikos come summer, my dear?"

The Baroness de Lonval was a slight, quick-moving woman, born of Eisande, and prone to leaving her grown children to mind the estate at this time of year while she wintered in the City of Elua. Their family well known to the Sauveterres, Astérie had found the older woman materializing at her side even as people were filtering into the reception hall following the performance.

"Perhaps," she replied with a smile. "In truth, I have not thought so far ahead. The dark of winter makes the summer feel distant." As did other things, but she did not mention that. This night was one for amusement and thus had she accepted the invitation here. The performance was an enjoyable one; neither too serious nor devoid of all things thought-provoking, it struck the right note amidst all else.

A light conversation proceeded for a short time further, before the Baroness was off on the trail of another acquaintance spotted. She would no doubt be touring about like that for most of the evening, for such was her way. Astérie turned and made her way over to acquire a glass of wine.

Her gown for this evening's occasion was a deep green velvet, a necklace of pearls to accompany it. Long brunette tresses but lightly constrained, a pretty ornament of silver, set with several more pearls, provided adornment there.

Taking a sip of wine, Astérie skirted carefully around a large knot of people all chattering together and not seeming to realize they were virtually blocking that part of the room, and proceeded along one wall. Lounging against a pillar in a corner was a man with a lovely shade of red hair. It caught her eye, for what abruptly came to mind at the sight of it was the notion that she had seen hair like that somewhere before. But at the moment, she could not put a finger to where that might have been. Surely if she had actually met the man, she would have remembered.

He was scanning the room and so when his gaze came in her direction, Astérie smiled. "Good evening."
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Damon Neville
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There were many people at the gathering that were familiar to him at least by appearance and many of them caught his gaze - or went to great lengths to avoid it. But one young woman did return not only his scrutiny, but sauntered over to give him a pleasant greeting. His mind was working furiously already to place her, feeling that he might have seen her around at some point before but probably not in these circles. He would have liked to be able to place her, in case she already knew who he was as to not be at a disadvantage from the start, but as it was, he would have to settle for nonchalance.

Staying put, waiting for her to come to him, he raised his glass slightly in the way of greeting.

"That remains to be seen." He cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing lazily as he gestured with the wine glass at her. She was attractive, as far as asthetics went, but she had a somewhat demure aura around her that made him suspect that she lacked a certain... bite, that he preferred in women. "Do tell. Have you recently discovered your passion for art, or are you usually otherwise engaged? I do not believe we've met before, my lady."
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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That remains to be seen. A rather atypical way to respond to the greeting, but the more memorable for that. Astérie felt even more strongly that she had not actually been introduced to the man before, for each little hint of demeanor further failed to ping a note of the familiar. She must simply have seen him at some point prior.

"Do tell. Have you recently discovered your passion for art, or are you usually otherwise engaged? I do not believe we've met before, my lady."

"The passion is in the blood. The time however--" She spread her hand in a manner that described a swath of emptiness. "Nevertheless, the opportunity to indulge is often more welcome for its less frequent occurrence.

"I do not believe we have met either. Though I must admit, Messire, I am unable to shake the impression that I have seen you before, though regrettably I cannot recall as to where." Astérie glanced briefly to the rest of the room. "Perhaps at some similar event." Her attention returned to the redhead. "Regardless, if I might remedy the matter now, I am Astérie de Sauveterre."

A sip of wine making a brief interlude, she then asked curiously, "I take it you did not find the performance alone sufficient to render the evening 'good'?"
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Damon Neville
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Lacking time to indulge in art? In the winter? Most D'Angeline nobles found themselves bored enough to start up ill conceived intriguing during the darkest season of the year just to pass time. What kept this woman so occupied that she found little enough time for something she considered a pleasure? He did not think that she was merely claiming to care for art because she thought it was the right thing to say. She did not have the self important air to suggest that she was attempting that kind of deceit.

A pity. He would have liked to burst such a bubble. He too, after all, was bored.

But he would take what he could get.

Tilting his head sideways, regarding her with half lidded eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth he replied evasively:

"You may well have. I'm sure you'll figure out where during the course of the evening."

He could not be sure whether or not she really did not know who he was and if so, where she might have seen him. Mayhap at the Midwinter Masque. But he was certainly not going to tell her, if she did not already know his reputation.

He twirled his wine glass slowly, considering her question about the play for a few moments before responding.

"To the contrary. I quite enjoyed tonight's performance. Yet such a thing as a play is a fleeting pleasure and does not necessarily vouch for the remainder of the evening. Tell me, what do you think of our esteemed playwright?"
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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"You may well have. I'm sure you'll figure out where during the course of the evening."

Astérie inclined her head with the faint lilt of a smile in her own turn, the movement apparent acceptance of the challenge. She marked that the man did not offer his own name in return - perhaps an oversight, but perhaps quite intentional, if hearing his name could provide a clue as to where she might have seen him. Or at the least, if he thought it might. Nevertheless, she did not press on the topic of his identity just now, instead deciding to take it as a component of the game set.

"Regrettably, my acquaintance with Madame Chasseau consists of little more than a fleeting introduction. But to consider the play. . . . The Hellenic influence is unmistakable, and yet a clever feint in itself. To use animals as representations in such a way immediately draws the mind to Aisopos, only to find the traditional associations have all been turned upon their heads. It was well-handled I think and serves to teach the audience what the characters themselves experienced in the story. Sometimes the more cause we think we have to call our assumptions true, the further afield we find ourselves from that truth."

She gave a sudden little laugh. "And if I may detour to the more frivolous. . .the costumes were altogether charming."
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Damon Neville
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It had not quite been intended as a challenge, but it appeared that she had taken it at once such all the same. It was a convenient way of finding out whether or not she was after something - whether it was to ridicule him or to try to make use of his connections. Perhaps even the tiresome old game of trying to Heal him, although not a lot of people bothered with that anymore. It had been too long; he was considered a lost cause by now, a fallen star never to ascend again. So he quirked an eye brow slightly at her willingness to pursue the topic. Was she even that interested in finding out?

The play, that was another matter. That, he could safely delve into. While not a playwright himself, he was raised in Valerian house, after all and had witnessed a considerable amount of them since he made his marque.

"The assumption of Hellene inspiration is perhaps overly flattering, I think. The animalistic imagery is native to many cultures, not all of them with such a famous history in terms of plays. Just consider our barbarian neighbours and their cultural attachment to animals. No; this particular usage of the animal traits represented must be seen as essentially D'Angeline." He wrinkled his nose, gaze travelling to new arrival who had just entered the room, before turning away in disgust. "All the same the symbolism was quite daring. For that alone, Madame Chasseau deserves bonus points. But who's keeping score?" He added the last with such a lofty voice that it was hard to imagine that he truly meant that no one did.
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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"But who's keeping score?"

Astérie's gaze flitted reflexively to what had brought that expression of repugnance to the redhead's face, its abrupt appearance jarring in the moment. His question did not truly strike as a question, yet she replied nevertheless as her attention swung back, her tone some distant cousin of dry. "More than a few people, I am sure."

Returning mentally to the topic of which that was a tangent, she reviewed to herself what had prompted the notion of a Hellene influence for a moment before saying more. "'Tis the rook and fox I think," she said at last. "That brought the Hellene so to mind. They are perfect mirrors to their counterparts in the Cytheran telling of the tale, which is rather distinct against even that of the mainland. Yet I agree that most of the archetypes were much more ambiguously cast. Or perhaps not? I wonder if different entities were not plucked from different cultures and spun about for their presentation here. An essentially d'Angeline appropriation indeed."

She smiled in good humour at the thought, for there were several other things about it that were essentially d'Angeline at that. "Though I would need to consider it further to dredge up from where those associations might hail. My knowledge of Skaldic mythology in particular is weaker than it might be." She remembered in a sudden flash the many tales Absolon d'Aiglemort had spun the Longest Night. Perhaps simply to distract from conversation surrounding the topic of his sullen kinsman, yet fascinating nevertheless.

A dainty roll of one hand was given. "Or perhaps it is a lopsided representation indeed, with patchwork ancestry alone." Drinking more of her wine, Astérie looked up suddenly, remembrance lighting ice blue eyes. Thought of the interval at Felice de Morban's townhouse had done it.

"I recall it now - it was at Cereus House I do believe, during the Masque."
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Damon Neville
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He snorted softly at the mention of having lent various animals from different cultural histories.

"Again, perhaps, I think you read too much into it. Madame Chasseau might be a good playwright, but she is no scholar. Helene mythology might be considered essential knowledge to one performing in these circles for the status it holds in our society, but I very much doubt that she possesses more than a passing knowledge of art history in other cultures than you and me. Ah, pardon me - perhaps you are a scholar of history? I do not know your background."

His eyes cast about the room once more, with the habitual experience of one used to such social gatherings. A lot of things about his behavior suggested that he be more of the social butterfly than he was.

"As for knowledge of Skaldic mythology, I rather doubt that it would be considered a great feat to be well versed in it," he replied with a sharp smile. "Then again, much as the play suggested, no amount of civilization frees us of some of the intrinsic barbaric traits of human nature."

Downing what was left in his wine glass, he was scanning for a waiter who could procure him another just as the lady sprung another surprise on him, pinpointing where she had seen him before. His eye brows shot up.

"Indeed, I was there, as I have been every year since my sixteenth birthday. I am sure you are too polite to inquire how long ago that was, though," he added with one quirked eye brow.
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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"Ah, pardon me - perhaps you are a scholar of history? I do not know your background."

"My father is a scholar of numerous subjects. History amongst them," Astérie replied with an amiable smile. She very briefly entertained providing a further list of hints noted in certain of the costuming and storyline, magnitude thrusting back at coincidence on some of the fronts, but in the end, decided not to. In her work as a chirurgeon, she spent enough of her time in situations where providing evidence and convincing others was of the utmost importance. Here and now was no matter of bodily health and there was no discernible benefit to going through a litany of observations. She was here to think of other things than work after all. And the man himself seemed uninterested in a prolonged discussion on the topic anyway, to go by his responses. Best then, to let the matter rest, given the rare luxury of being able to do so in good conscience.

"Indeed, I was there, as I have been every year since my sixteenth birthday. I am sure you are too polite to inquire how long ago that was, though."

"Of course, Messire." There was a teasing glint in her eyes. "Though if you feel the need to indulge nonetheless, please."

He had already suggested certain information in what he said however. For someone to have first ventured to the Night Court's Midwinter Masque at the age of sixteen and attended every year since pointed to only a few possible positions in life. Add in such factors as his appearance and presence here, and she could but assume an adept who had made his marque. From which House, was more difficult to guess.

"I have naught to speak of myself save this most recent event, unfortunately. . .truncated, though it was. Memorable, nevertheless.

"Shall I take your faithful attendance as a vote in favour of attempting the next Masque, should I find myself with an invitation once again?"

A simple question, though she was honestly curious what he would reply, for more reasons than only his opinion on the Longest Night festivities.
Edited by Asterie de Sauveterre, Aug 30 2011, 04:29 AM.
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Damon Neville
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He did not appear to feel the need to indulge nonetheless, merely arching one eye brow minutely in a skeptical manner. The less she knew for sure about him, the better. He was not quite so dumb as to not realize that the mystery itself was the attraction, a lot of the time.

"Indeed, I daresay it will go to the history as one of the most memorable of the longest nights, even though it was quite brief for one such." He paused for a moment, twirling his glass, gaze slightly absent, airy even, as he continued. His voice, however, lacked none of its usual sharpness. "Of course, it is in the nature of these events that one not remember all of them, so that would hardly need to be a miracle in itself. Some things though, people will remember... even when lost in the haze of joie."

His gaze slowly turned back to her, not quite so absent any more. A very faint smile grazed his lips as she politely inquired after there relative success of the Night Court Midwinter Masque as such, over the years. He shrugged discreetly, part of an elaborate motion, angling one shoulder in her direction as he considered the question for a few moments before replying, regarding her over the rim of his raised goblet, concealing his mouth currently.

"It has its merits, to be sure. New, fresh faces every year. An abundance of everything save substance. What do you require, of a party, for you to leave it contented?"
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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"Some things though, people will remember... even when lost in the haze of joie."

She can only think of the Dauphine at hearing that, whether he alluded to something so specific or not. With this man, she thought it likely that he did.

He peered at her over his goblet then, it veiling the slight smile that had come into being just prior.

"It has its merits, to be sure. New, fresh faces every year. An abundance of everything save substance. What do you require, of a party, for you to leave it contented?"

"Contented, mm?" Astérie brushed a hand absently down her skirt. A telling choice of words. "An array of things, at varying levels of satisfaction, can weigh out to contentment. Though of course some cannot balance a great deficiency in others. The most sumptuous repast would be poor recompense for an occasion otherwise dreadful in all other regards. For my part at the least; those of stronger epicurean tendencies might disagree.

"Pleasant surroundings and enjoyable entertainment also factor into the equation. But I suppose above all, good company matters strongly. The level of. . .substance desired in such company?" She smiled her own faint smile and cast her gaze over the room. "Depends upon the occasion and my own mood I suppose."
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An array of things, indeed? The lady certainly seemed to know her own mind in these matters. These were of a surety no simple expectations to meet. He laughed softly, a sound coming from deep down his throat. His voice was more hoarse these days than it had been, no doubt a side effect from the excessive drinking he had practiced in recent years.

"Then I can see why you rarely find the time to attend these kinds of gatherings. How few of them must leave you feeling... contended." He rolled his eyes heavenwards, making a half hearted dramatic gesture with one hand. "Epicurean, thy name is D'Angeline."

His gaze shifted to once more sift over the crowd, which had gotten somewhat bigger since they had begun this conversation. "Well. This shows promise to offer one of the above, at least." His head swayed again, pinning her with narrowed eyes and a vague smile on his lips. "So tell me. What mood are you in tonight?"
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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"Then I can see why you rarely find the time to attend these kinds of gatherings. How few of them must leave you feeling... contended."

She laughed a little at that, pearl eardrops swaying with the motion as she gave a faint shake of her head. "Not so few as that. But it is not untrue that greater rarity does keep some things from growing too repetitive as they might otherwise do."

Of course, sometimes it seemed even something so simple as having a casual conversation that did not touch topics of the medical persuasion was a deep rarity in itself. She knew that was only perception, but it mingled with what was recent fact. Following a brief lull after the Royal decree, traffic to the Night Court - and to hear tell, to Servants of Naamah everywhere else as well - surged greater than before. That in itself was both relieving, as well as leaving one to worry what House Courcel's reaction would be. But it also meant Valerian was busy in its own way, just as the other Houses, and no few of its recent patrons had been particularly invigorated in their worship of Naamah. That saw to it that the adepts, Astérie, and those others working in the Healers' quarters had their time filled indeed.

"So tell me. What mood are you in tonight?"

She considered that a moment, one finger running around the base of the cordial glass she held. She still wondered what this fellow was about himself; he gave the impression of the sort who would move on easily if not sufficiently engaged in the moment at hand. If he were indeed a former adept, he would have the training to slide into near any conversation he desired most likely. And yet here he remained for the time being, shifting expressions, questions, and all. And so she wondered indeed, for it was a puzzle, and Astérie rather favoured puzzles when they presented themselves.

"A bit contemplative. Content--" She smiled as if in memory of the earlier portion of their conversation. "--that the evening is as it is. Enjoyable, yet without being overly boisterous. A bit of calm is not something I mind right now."

Astérie relinquished her now-empty glass to a passing servant. "And you, Messire? It has sounded you are able to venture to such gatherings more often than I. Do you continue to find they offer distinction?"
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He feigned a stifled yawn, rolling his eyes heavenwards.

"Ever the complaint of the conesseur, that rarities are so far between and everything else - utter tedium. Perhaps you are lucky, that your work keeps you too busy to overindulge, lest you lose your taste for all but the most refined company." He glanced around the room pointedly. "Else, you would surely find yourself disappointed far too often."

His eyes narrowed just a fraction, studying her more intently as she claimed contentedness - there was something private about her smile, suggesting some particular event he did not know about that had put her in this favorable mood. Was she in love?

"Ah, but appearances are deceiving, in this case. The event is modest, to be sure, but calm? There is not single person in this room who is not thinking about recent political events."! Again, his gaze flitted around the room, landing on a gaggle of Eglatine adepts. Young ones, who did not recognize him. His lips quirked up at one corner of the mouth into a sardonic smile. "Well, perhaps there is one or two," he amended.

His gaze swept back to her, like a hawk once more zooming in on its prey. ""I continue to find that they lack distinction. Yet the fault lies with me, not with the events, that remain much the same as they always have been." He fingered his glass lightly, frowned, and then downed the contents, snatching another glass with practiced ease from a tray.
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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Astérie's gaze followed the redhead's to the knot of adepts from Eglantine. Their affiliation was obvious in their appearance and their House a common choice for companions to attend gatherings such as this. Whether these here were present for such a purpose or for some other reason, a glance alone was not sufficient to say.

"Calm is in the beholder's eye I suppose," she remarked absently, blue eyes still upon the adepts but her thoughts elsewhere. No blood in evidence nor wounds to bind went a long measure towards calm from her perspective, yet of course that was unlikely a day to day consideration for many here.

She looked back to him, as he did to her. And again Astérie wondered, as he spoke, what had brought him here. His very words begged the question. What angle of enjoyment did he in particular find in such an event?

"Is it the search for such distinction that lures you back then? Or somewhat different?"
Edited by Asterie de Sauveterre, Jan 18 2012, 08:23 AM.
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Damon Neville
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Her mind wandered, it appeared, but to what he could not guess. It could be the mentioned political unrest, something she had just observed that had struck some chord he could not guess at, or the light discussion at hand of the event itself. He was not about to press it in any more overt manner, however.

"Is it now?" he replied instead in an amused toneust because someone perceives something a certain way, that doesn't necessarily make it true. If it did, then every fool would be an artist and every princess Winter Queen." He glanced over at the Eglantine adepts again and made a face. "Good point. I take it back."

He sighed deeply, staring down broodingly into the contents of his glass when asked what made him keep coming back. It was several moments before he replied, during which he seriously considered not doing so at all, alternately with making light of it, somehow, to brush the uncomfortable question off.

"No," he finally replied flatly. "I gave up on the distinction a long time ago." Although the answer itself was not very explicit, the layered warring emotions in his voice hinted at plenty.
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Asterie de Sauveterre
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A reply was not quick in coming this time and the silence grew notable against the babble and buzz that continued throughout the rest of the room. For her part, Astérie's body language covered it deftly though, were someone observing from a distance. Rather than a skill garnered so much at social occasions, it came of practice at questions that could be uncomfortable in her work, where staring at someone until they replied was more often a path to even greater lag, than anything else.

Taking up a goblet of mulled wine from the tray of one of the servants continuing to circulate around the guests, she felt the warmth of it seep into her fingers. Of course, it was a far cry from cool in here. But something about knowing winter reigned without made warmth the more noticeable. Astérie sipped the spiced liquid and waited. On the face of it, it had not been a question she would have expected such deliberation over. On the other hand, this man had displayed several reactions that were not necessarily a 'first guess'. Indeed, he had seemed somewhat. . .plagued, about something.

"No," he finally replied flatly. "I gave up on the distinction a long time ago."

"Somewhat different then," she commented neutrally. And after a pause, "I am sorry if it was a reminder of things better not thought upon." Her voice was softer there, trimmed with apology.

For in spite of the fact that such was far from what she had intended, his tone. . .well. There was more there than the words themselves spoke.
Edited by Asterie de Sauveterre, Feb 6 2012, 05:37 AM.
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Damon Neville
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Sorry? For reminding him of things better not thought upon? He nearly laughed out loud at the apology. If he had wondered before, clearly she did not know who he was. He could not decide whether to be relieved, insulted, or merely amused. Perhaps it had been too long. Perhaps she was too young, despite the seeming of calm wisdom. Some people learned it at an early age, some not at all.

His lips twitched ad his eyes sparkled with something... indeterminate, but that was as far as he allowed his reaction to show. He made a careless gesture with the glass, coming dangerously close to spilling out its contents on the floor in doing so.

"Don't be sorry. The reminders are all around us, not with you specifically. And I see no reason to bore you with stories that are common knowledge. And hardly very relevant any more, anyway." He arched one eye brow minutely in skepticism for but a moment, before shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders lightly as though to shake off the entire matter, like an old cloak, shed to welcome the spring.

"But you are welcome to keep guessing, if you are one for games. How much fun, after all, if I just give away all the answers?" he continued in a lighter tone.
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