#toivon is dodging that radar too

[fireintheforest]

Behind the Blue, chapter 16

It was exactly seven-thirty the next morning when the Hawkcroft dining room seemed to come to life. Sitting at the table were Emmanuel himself with his family –that is, Avelle & Louis, his children- Louis’s wife Katherine, his lawyer Armellon, Bertraug the medic and Saufinril as a guest. Servants came from the kitchen serving oatmeal toppled with fresh berries and honey, hot chocolate, three different kinds of cheese, sliced loaves of bread, jams and jellies, tea, thin slices of uncooked ham, butter, sliced apples sprinkled with cinnamon and eggs in a hot skillet, ready to be served to the plate.

Despite feeling the cold, persistent glances of Armellon, who was seated in front of him, Saufinril just focused on his oatmeal and tea, not making eye contact with Toivon as he served Bertraug’s coffee. Avelle chatted excitedly with her father about the Masquerade, her shrill, excited voice almost drowning any chance to have a conversation with anyone else.

“…white roses, and oh father we could have them as decorations on the windows and arches and we’ll have to call Paurdis for the entertainment, I have so many ideas and monsieur Cyremin is here to help me with it.” Saufinril shot a polite smile as Avelle went on, “He has a divine eye for aesthetics and if we combined things from the Isles it’d work splendorously for the Masquerade, he’s helping me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Saufinril saw Armellon narrow his eyes at him, so all he did was take his tea and take a sip of it. Armellon himself took his cup, muttered something along the lines of “courtesan helping” in Altmeris, and took a sip.

“So, Monsieur Cyremin.” Katherine said, turning to Saufinril and away from her sister-in-law, “That robe you wore to the party was simply beautiful. Was that Valenwood silk?”

Armellon placed his teacup down, eyes on Saufinril. Saufinril smiled pleasantly.

“It is, yes. Imported, of course.” He replied

“Marvellous.” She said, “As were the hair brooches.”

“Indeed. Were those from Valenwood too?” Armellon asked, in that perfect, natural face of genuine interest that was just a mask for something else, so common in the Isles.

“Some were, yes.” Saufinril replied, raising his teacup, “Others are handcrafted from the Isles. One is surprised you didn’t recognize the artmanship.” Saufinril winked discreetly at Armellon, who looked equal parts troubled and angry.

“Well, it has been a while since one’s been in the Isles.” Armellon commented, still keeping a narrowed eye on Saufinril.

“Very in vogue.” Luckily for Saufinril, Katherine had been more keen on giving one of the servants, a sickly ginger woman, a hard look and watching her until she served her more tea, “Did you arrive long ago to Evermor, monsieur?”

“A mere day, maybe. It was by sheer luck that one heard of the event held here.”

“Really?” Armellon asked, tilting his head, having Saufinril’s answer caught his interest, “A mere day and you already found your way into an exclusive party.”  Saufinril shrugged and smiled coyly while internally he cussed the lawyer with all his might, “the Divines work hard but you work harder.”

“Stop, you are flattering one, serah.” Saufinril said

“One just has to ask, how did you hear of it?” Armellon inquired, pretending an innocent curiosity. The internal cussing went harder. Toivon glanced at Saufinril.

“Well, one was at an event when that handsome actor –one can’t recall his name- invited one to the party. He said he’d been invited and asked for one’s services in the manor. Naturally, one first had to wrap up in the prior event but when one arrived, he introduced one to monsieur Emmanuel. And the rest is history, as some would say, hmm?” he directed a smile to Katherine, who tried to suppress her own. Armellon just gave him an unreadable expression and went back to his tea. Toivon quietly exhaled.

 Once every person left the dinner table, Toivon and the rest of the servants started to clear the table’s empty plates and untouched food and taking it through the servant door, down the stairs and to the kitchen.

“I’d never seen an Altmer younger than monsieur Armellon.” The teenage boy behind Toivon suddenly said

“Really?” Toivon asked, making conversation.

“Yeah! I thought they were all…old.”

Toivon chuckled.

“I thought he was young looking, too.” The woman ahead commented, “Do you think monsieur Armellon knows him?”

“Why would he?”

“Well, they’re both Altmer.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“I don’t think they do.” Toivon said, holding back the eye roll.

“But monsieur Armellon was looking at him a lot.” Piped in the boy

“No he wasn’t.”

“He was too! Through the whole breakfast he was.” The boy grabbed one of the slices of ham and ate it, continuing, “You saw him almost buttering his hand because he was too busy looking at him.”

Toivon didn’t reply. He’d seen the Altmer at the first break-in and later at the breakfast, but he’d been tranquil knowing that Saufinril could bullshit his way through his own culture. But this kid raised the important point of what if they knew each other. Recalling the breakfast, he did realize Saufinril hadn’t looked at the lawyer a whole lot, focusing more on Avelle and Emmanuel. He was going to ask him the first chance he had.

“I’d never seen him around Evermor before.” The woman commented, using her back to push the door to the kitchen open.

“Me either.” The boy replied, eating more ham.

“Can’t say, don’t care.” Toivon replied, putting the dishes where they would be washed. When he turned around to go back out, he almost ran into the sickly ginger woman.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, eyes never off the ground. She skirted around the Dunmer, placed the dishes, and walked back out the kitchen in a hurry.

 Armellon gallantly offered to escort Saufinril to the Marigold. And of course as Cyremin, Saufinril smiled brightly and made a remark about Armellon following him to his quarters that earned him a glare from the lawyer. Within himself, however, he had to roll his eyes. This stupid lawyer suspected something. They rode in silence, apart from the other, until the Marigold’s rose gold roof came to view.

“Here’s one stop.” Saufinril turned to the lawyer, “As unnecessary as this trip was-”

“One is going in with you.”

“Serah. One was jesting back in the manor. Surely, you know how unprofessional it is for one to take one’s clients to one’s bedr-”

“Where is your escort?” the older Altmer asked, eyes set on Saufinril, who got quiet, “Your Mother, or Older Brother or Sister? Hm? You are too young to be in the continent by yourself. Are you telling one you have a room in The Marigold, all by yourself, the same night you arrived? With what money?”

Saufinril bit his lower lip and looked down. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

“The new regime is,” he softened his voice on purpose, letting his face fall away from the smug smile he’d adopted for his character, “Everything is under their control now. And…” He fiddled with the hem of the sleeve, “One’s Sisters are still in the Isles. One is just being a diplomat, under their, ah, suggestion.”

A heavy silence fell on the carriage, both Altmer unwilling to voice the Thalmor out loud, but knowing otherwise.

“Did they give you a permit of pass?” Armellon asked. Saufinril nodded.

“It’s in one’s room. One usually carries it with one but this morning one forgot it. One obviously can’t bring it out to you now, one has a commitment.” Saufinril returned to his character, giving Armellon a smile, “Unless you wish to come with one?”

“One has other commitments too.” Armellon said, not amused by Saufinril’s coy smile but admittedly less harsh than before. The older the mer, the softer the heart.

“How disheartening to one.” Saufinril opened the door and began to get out.

“If the appointment is so important,” Armellon asked as Saufinril got out, “why not just go there straight from the manor?”

Saufinril turned to Armellon, posing a face of full offense, “And repeat an outfit?” he asked almost indignantly. He closed the carriage door and walked to the Marigold.

 In the bedroom, he closed the door behind himself and let out air from his mouth, relieved to not have to act like a self-absorbed, frivolous, charming, flirty mer and contenting himself with the silence. He sat in the bed and started to remove everything in his hair, tied it back in the ponytail and then pulled out the paper he’d seen on the drawers of the rich mahogany desk and set it down. He found the ink and quill after searching around, in the lower cabinet of the bookcase, and didn’t bother sitting down while writing:

 Serah & Rialas,

One hopes this message gets to you in good health and spirits. One sends you this letter to let you both know one is alive, free and in good health. There was a hiccup in the heist and one will have to stay for longer until we get what we came here for. One will keep in contact with you. Rest assured that if anything harmful were to happen, one will get out of it and come back to Valenwood as soon as possible. Any response confirming one that you are both well or, in the event it were not so, telling one of the happenings of your lives, will be awaited by one.

Yours sincerely,

Saufinril

 It was once that the ink dried that Saufinril used the familiar, comforting pulse of humming magic to summon a creature. Saufinril gave it the instructions of where to deliver it, and the creature disappeared, heading to the Den.