Prelude to entrapment

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Prelude to entrapment Empty Prelude to entrapment

Post by Xenedra on Mon Aug 03, 2009 5:28 pm

For the past two weeks Bianqa had been hammering at Rabican consistently with the ridiculous proposition of marriage. The continuous onslaught had been old within the first five minutes, but two weeks of it… He assumed that to most people watching him awkwardly and angrily deal with the seventeen year old, he seemed without a drop of patience, but the fact was that he’d been mercilessly sucked dry of that virtue a week ago.

And suddenly she let up.

She’d dropped by that afternoon with a small cake loaf and had left shortly there-after. The calm small talk she’d made did nothing to put to rest his suspicions that something was amiss. There had been no confessions of undying love, no marriage demands; she’d simply inquired at his health that day and had gone on her way without plucking a single one of his ravaged nerves.

Putting aside the pen he’d been tapping at the tempo of his racing thoughts, he reaching for the loaf his eyes had been fixed blindly on. He set it squarely in front of him on his desk after pushing aside the financial documents he’d been working on… and continued staring at it. After making quite sure that this was, in fact, a cake of some kind, and not a gold bar sized velociraptor ready to tear off his face, he worked loose the twine she’d tied about it to keep a layer of parchment paper on and folded said parchment paper flat under it. It smelled of peaches, his favorite. Few people actually knew this about him and Bianqa was not one of them.

Sighing, he slid down into a comfortable slouch in his chair, all the while staring glumly at the cake. The only person he’d received a similar peach flavored item from before was Mhuirnin. He fought with himself for a bit, thinking perhaps it was just a coincidence that Bianqa would choose a peach flavored anything to give to him, but the fact that she had had lunch the previous day with Mhuirnin did little to help him believe that. No, it was much more likely that Mhuirnin, in all her kindness, had decided to help Bianqa in pursuing him. He sighed again and reached lazily up to break off a corner of the loaf, depositing it in his mouth. At least Mhuirnin hadn’t made the loaf FOR her, he could tell from the taste. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Mhuirnin’s. He smiled slightly at the thought, wondering if he’d become spoiled by the treats she’d brought him when she’d chosen to pity him with her presence.

He groaned and slumped forward, elbows supporting him by the forehead on his desk on either side of the cake. “Stop it…” he admonished himself, realizing he was moping. Of course she would choose to help Bianqa. Not only was she kind-hearted, but if he was happily set up with Bianqa, he’d be out of her hair. It only made too much sense.

He gummed another crumb of the loaf thoughtfully. When she had invited him to lunch, Rabican had thought perhaps Mhuirnin was beginning to change her mind, but it seemed that once again he had fooled himself into believing only what he wished to believe. “I guess it’s time to give up,” he spoke aloud, not knowing why. Maybe he felt he needed some sort of verbal confirmation.

“If only it was just a switch to turn off, hm?” he asked himself as he stood and walked to fetch his mail from the bench by the door. Atop the pile of financial requests, trade agreements, and bills was a fine ivory envelope sealed in red wax. Closer inspection revealed the familiar form of the l’Vierre family crest imprinted in the dollop of wax. A heavy, black rock formed in the pit of his stomach as he lifted the unwanted letter from the pile with cautious fingers. No good could come from a message from his uncle.

Posts : 48
Join date : 2008-04-23
Age : 34
Location : Virginia

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