A Durant Mother's Duty 3/5
Mar. 20th, 2018 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
votivescholarsThis is the third of a series of pieces from the perspective of Lieselotte Durant, Isidor's mother. Harrowheart's companion pieces will be posted on his journal and links to the other written pieces will be placed here.
Harrowheart's perspective: Part 2
Lieselotte's perspective: Part 2
Harrowheart's perspective: Part 3
Harrowheart's perspective: Part 2
Lieselotte's perspective: Part 2
Harrowheart's perspective: Part 3
✣ · ✣ · ✣ · ✣
Andolian Earlydawn
I hadn’t expected Harrowheart to return with an invitation to dine with an elf. In my short time here I had observed the inhuman races from a distance. My inability to talk to them didn’t help the matter, but I wasn’t sure what to make of them. Seeing them walk around as though it were the most normal thing in the world… was a culture shock. Of course, I knew better than to stare or comment, but I had watched, unsure how to feel about them. That said, of all the other races, elves were certainly the most appealing. They appeared to hold a profound sense of dignity, and were clearly a magically inclined race. So the possibility of securing an elf as an ally was definitely a good opportunity. He might even have been able to keep up with Isidor.
Andolian’s home had a very Turkish feel about it, only with swirling patterns instead of geometrical ones. It was effortless decadence, I didn’t need to be a native to know that, but Harrowheart emphasised how special the food was regardless. It made me smile. Even in his finery and having been at my side these past few days, the mindset of a starving farmboy still shined through.
The warm, somewhat familiar welcome into Andolian’s home counteracted the strangeness of his appearance. He was tall, his features sharp, his eyes blue like Harrowheart’s, and his eyebrows were bizarrely long. I wondered briefly if I’d seen a fashion trend like that on Earth before, but couldn’t recall. The slender, fae-like manner of his appearance made him look like the type of man Isidor would break in two to get what she wanted. Pushing aside my preemptive sympathy for the poor man, I turned my attention back to the present.
Thankfully we weren’t obliged to any awkward traditions, and for once it seemed Harrowheart wasn’t entirely unwelcome. In fact, Harrowheart was largely ignored throughout our visit. Initially I wondered if this was a sign of experience on Andolian’s behalf, or of prejudice. It was only the constant eye-contact and Harrowheart’s explanation that made me realise that his issue was with my being human, not Harrowheart being undead. The news gave me an unexpected advantage over my host. I made sure to exaggerate the expressions I wanted to convey and relaxed in hiding any others. It also meant that I was able to guess the tone with which he spoke before Harrowheart told me his words, which gave me more time to formulate each response. Not that I needed to speak much, at first. He enjoyed talking about himself and knew how to appeal to my interests. Of everyone so far he had the most extensive network of contacts. First impressions count, and with his help we could easily dictate who the Durants were in this world. What an attractive concept that was. Compared to the Tenemils this was an easy meeting, but it still had its issues.
It was lucky that Andolian wasn’t able to read my body language when Harrowheart grabbed my hand. My eyes swivelled to see his shock but even after he recounted Andolian’s words I didn’t understand the reason for such a reaction. Andolian didn’t seem troubled by it, I didn’t understand why it was so shocking. There have always been exceptions to the rules. Businessmen or politicians, royalty or criminals… There are always a few who are granted freedom in enemy lands. Admittedly it did make me wonder which Andolian was. As much as he presented it as merchant business those lines do tend to blur. These thoughts only persisted as he turned the conversation towards the rules and rituals of Durant life. It was wise of him to ask these things, of course, and very like Isidor herself. Yet I could hear the coldness of our discussion. Perhaps it was even more clear hearing Harrowheart repeat my words and then Andolian’s. Trading one object for another.
As the night wore on it became easier to imagine Isidor’s life with this man, this elf. A prized possession, a bought thing. That’s not what I wanted for Isidor. We were bargaining with her, it was true, but her value was so great we could afford to keep our standards high. We wanted the magical lineage, the handsome man, the renowned family… but we didn’t want her husband to treat her like a wild horse to be broken, or a prize mare to parade around. We didn’t want her to break him or use him as a puppet, either. Vercor and I… we wanted to give her what we have; A partnership. Someone she could trust no matter what. Someone who, even if they didn’t love each other, she could rely on through the hard times and the good. Someone who understood her value, and the value of their marriage. A man who bartered as though he was already assured her hand had no idea of how valuable she was.
Once we finally parted I was glad to have the time to talk to Harrowheart about what had happened. He brought up grabbing my hand, which made things easier for me. I smiled and assured him that I understood now that he’d explained, but gently reminded him to remain professional around anyone else we meet. When I reiterated what was expected of him he used Isidor as an example. My smile was even easier to share, at that. “Just like Isidor,” I told him.
He confirmed what I’d been thinking about Andolian. The connections were exceptionally good. I didn’t expect what he told me next. It seemed that the people on this world were even more strict about their alliances than I’d expected. I knew that Vercor wouldn’t like hearing that. He’d accept it, but he wouldn’t like it. Like Dalaran, Durants were not beholden to one faction. That was what Vercor had strived to reinforce. I knew he wouldn’t like hearing that he was restricted to one faction just because of our species. A problem for later.
I turned our conversation back to Isidor’s future. Elves and humans could have children, it turned out. As Harrowheart described how they would be tall, with long ears and long eyebrows it was hard to tell if they would look like Isidor at all. Somehow I don’t think they would have her beautiful green eyes, or her long dark hair… Would they share anything with their human family? Harrowheart spluttered when he said they would be powerful mages. There was something strange about the way he said that. Maybe because he thought it was a private thing to speculate on. I couldn’t blame him for feeling awkward about that. He considered Isidor his friend. How many people help choose and discuss their friend’s future husband? His anxiousness went from bad to worse as he blundered through his reasons why Andolian would make a bad husband for Isidor, only to blurt out that he would be like the Archon: Absent and unable to love her. I tilted my head at him to give him a reproachful look, but that was to hide the way my body tensed. Hadn’t we just had a conversation about staying professional? I let him give his excuses and hurry away for the evening.
On the walk back to my room my thoughts were occupied with reminding myself just how little Harrowheart knew about Vercor. Of course I came across as the loving, abandoned wife. That’s what happened when I took it upon myself to be the social one of us. Someone needed to deal with that side of things, to be the face of our family, and I was far better at it than he ever was. I was better at feigning deference than he was. Of course I was, I had managed to become a Durant after all. The dangerous, stoic role of enforcer suited him. The more distant, the more mysterious he seemed the more power he held. So long as he made his power known now and then, at key points, in key places. He didn’t need to appear loving, or emotional. That was too easy to manipulate… and it was too difficult for him to express. I understood that, and he understood me. We accepted each other. We worked well together. We didn’t bend or break like some couples who had married for love. We were reliable. A team. That’s what I wanted for my daughter. I could only hope that she could get that while the family got what was expected in return.
I hadn’t expected Harrowheart to return with an invitation to dine with an elf. In my short time here I had observed the inhuman races from a distance. My inability to talk to them didn’t help the matter, but I wasn’t sure what to make of them. Seeing them walk around as though it were the most normal thing in the world… was a culture shock. Of course, I knew better than to stare or comment, but I had watched, unsure how to feel about them. That said, of all the other races, elves were certainly the most appealing. They appeared to hold a profound sense of dignity, and were clearly a magically inclined race. So the possibility of securing an elf as an ally was definitely a good opportunity. He might even have been able to keep up with Isidor.
Andolian’s home had a very Turkish feel about it, only with swirling patterns instead of geometrical ones. It was effortless decadence, I didn’t need to be a native to know that, but Harrowheart emphasised how special the food was regardless. It made me smile. Even in his finery and having been at my side these past few days, the mindset of a starving farmboy still shined through.
The warm, somewhat familiar welcome into Andolian’s home counteracted the strangeness of his appearance. He was tall, his features sharp, his eyes blue like Harrowheart’s, and his eyebrows were bizarrely long. I wondered briefly if I’d seen a fashion trend like that on Earth before, but couldn’t recall. The slender, fae-like manner of his appearance made him look like the type of man Isidor would break in two to get what she wanted. Pushing aside my preemptive sympathy for the poor man, I turned my attention back to the present.
Thankfully we weren’t obliged to any awkward traditions, and for once it seemed Harrowheart wasn’t entirely unwelcome. In fact, Harrowheart was largely ignored throughout our visit. Initially I wondered if this was a sign of experience on Andolian’s behalf, or of prejudice. It was only the constant eye-contact and Harrowheart’s explanation that made me realise that his issue was with my being human, not Harrowheart being undead. The news gave me an unexpected advantage over my host. I made sure to exaggerate the expressions I wanted to convey and relaxed in hiding any others. It also meant that I was able to guess the tone with which he spoke before Harrowheart told me his words, which gave me more time to formulate each response. Not that I needed to speak much, at first. He enjoyed talking about himself and knew how to appeal to my interests. Of everyone so far he had the most extensive network of contacts. First impressions count, and with his help we could easily dictate who the Durants were in this world. What an attractive concept that was. Compared to the Tenemils this was an easy meeting, but it still had its issues.
It was lucky that Andolian wasn’t able to read my body language when Harrowheart grabbed my hand. My eyes swivelled to see his shock but even after he recounted Andolian’s words I didn’t understand the reason for such a reaction. Andolian didn’t seem troubled by it, I didn’t understand why it was so shocking. There have always been exceptions to the rules. Businessmen or politicians, royalty or criminals… There are always a few who are granted freedom in enemy lands. Admittedly it did make me wonder which Andolian was. As much as he presented it as merchant business those lines do tend to blur. These thoughts only persisted as he turned the conversation towards the rules and rituals of Durant life. It was wise of him to ask these things, of course, and very like Isidor herself. Yet I could hear the coldness of our discussion. Perhaps it was even more clear hearing Harrowheart repeat my words and then Andolian’s. Trading one object for another.
As the night wore on it became easier to imagine Isidor’s life with this man, this elf. A prized possession, a bought thing. That’s not what I wanted for Isidor. We were bargaining with her, it was true, but her value was so great we could afford to keep our standards high. We wanted the magical lineage, the handsome man, the renowned family… but we didn’t want her husband to treat her like a wild horse to be broken, or a prize mare to parade around. We didn’t want her to break him or use him as a puppet, either. Vercor and I… we wanted to give her what we have; A partnership. Someone she could trust no matter what. Someone who, even if they didn’t love each other, she could rely on through the hard times and the good. Someone who understood her value, and the value of their marriage. A man who bartered as though he was already assured her hand had no idea of how valuable she was.
Once we finally parted I was glad to have the time to talk to Harrowheart about what had happened. He brought up grabbing my hand, which made things easier for me. I smiled and assured him that I understood now that he’d explained, but gently reminded him to remain professional around anyone else we meet. When I reiterated what was expected of him he used Isidor as an example. My smile was even easier to share, at that. “Just like Isidor,” I told him.
He confirmed what I’d been thinking about Andolian. The connections were exceptionally good. I didn’t expect what he told me next. It seemed that the people on this world were even more strict about their alliances than I’d expected. I knew that Vercor wouldn’t like hearing that. He’d accept it, but he wouldn’t like it. Like Dalaran, Durants were not beholden to one faction. That was what Vercor had strived to reinforce. I knew he wouldn’t like hearing that he was restricted to one faction just because of our species. A problem for later.
I turned our conversation back to Isidor’s future. Elves and humans could have children, it turned out. As Harrowheart described how they would be tall, with long ears and long eyebrows it was hard to tell if they would look like Isidor at all. Somehow I don’t think they would have her beautiful green eyes, or her long dark hair… Would they share anything with their human family? Harrowheart spluttered when he said they would be powerful mages. There was something strange about the way he said that. Maybe because he thought it was a private thing to speculate on. I couldn’t blame him for feeling awkward about that. He considered Isidor his friend. How many people help choose and discuss their friend’s future husband? His anxiousness went from bad to worse as he blundered through his reasons why Andolian would make a bad husband for Isidor, only to blurt out that he would be like the Archon: Absent and unable to love her. I tilted my head at him to give him a reproachful look, but that was to hide the way my body tensed. Hadn’t we just had a conversation about staying professional? I let him give his excuses and hurry away for the evening.
On the walk back to my room my thoughts were occupied with reminding myself just how little Harrowheart knew about Vercor. Of course I came across as the loving, abandoned wife. That’s what happened when I took it upon myself to be the social one of us. Someone needed to deal with that side of things, to be the face of our family, and I was far better at it than he ever was. I was better at feigning deference than he was. Of course I was, I had managed to become a Durant after all. The dangerous, stoic role of enforcer suited him. The more distant, the more mysterious he seemed the more power he held. So long as he made his power known now and then, at key points, in key places. He didn’t need to appear loving, or emotional. That was too easy to manipulate… and it was too difficult for him to express. I understood that, and he understood me. We accepted each other. We worked well together. We didn’t bend or break like some couples who had married for love. We were reliable. A team. That’s what I wanted for my daughter. I could only hope that she could get that while the family got what was expected in return.
