measured_words (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
measured_words) wrote2008-08-08 11:42 pm
measured_words) wrote2008-08-08 11:42 pm
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Beyond Dinner Redux
Keeping in the spirit of the original story, I thought it would be fun to re-write my challenge piece from Amala's PoV. And since I ddn't have anything better to do, I did it! This means I've written something like 4-5000 words today, thank you muse!
Beyond Dinner Redux
Though she knew she should be on time, as soon as she saw Carrow already seated at a table in the rear of the dining room, anxiously perusing a menu, she feared she was late. She whisked her way over to him, winding lightly through the other diners, making her apologies as she sat. He looked thin, but she always thought so. She wondered briefly if he looked any thinn*er* as he smiled his welcome. His dark green shirt, simple in compared to the more elaborate costumes she’s seen as she passed through the room, brought out the brightness of his eyes.
“No, not long.”
There wasn’t time for further elaboration as a server appeared to query about her choice of drinks. Carrow gave her an encouraging nod. She’d been reading, when she had time, about these sorts of things. A sweet red might be a novice’s choice, but so be it – a novice she was. She tried to sound confident at least, and the server didn’t seem too disdainful of her selection. Carrow patiently sipped his water as he waited.
“That was nerve wracking,” she admitted as he disappeared, “wasn’t it? So many questions! Still, thank you again for coming out with me. I couldn’t imagine coming to a place like this alone.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
She flipped open the menu. The food all sounded so rich and complex – even the dishes that might have been simple, in theory, to prepare were made more exciting and exotic with the addition of expensive ingredients or time consuming techniques.
“What should I order? Meat to go with the wine, is that how it works?”
“The lamb sounds interesting…” He trailed off, and she thought she saw a pained look cross his face. With dawning realization, she flipped back through the menu. She’d known, of course, that he kept a very strict diet on account of his somewhat precarious health, but it hadn’t occurred to her when she’d asked if he would accompany her on an excursion to this high class restaurant. No, and of course he’d never say anything. “What are you having? Oh, I’m sorry, Carrow, I didn’t realize it would all be so heavy…” Suddenly descriptions of thick cream sauces, cheese stuffing, and spiced wine dressings seemed to jump off every page she turned.
“I’ll be fine.” He sounded tired. This was likely something he encountered a lot. Probably whenever he went out. And surely he must, sometimes… at least for work? She wasn’t certain. But it would do no good to press him – he could take care of himself in any case.
“Alright. I’ll try the lamb, anyway.”
The both set their menus down, summoning the server as though by magic. Carrow ordered for the both of them – he didn’t have to, but it seemed to be expected. She thanked the waiter and was rewarded by what might have passed as a smile in this environment.
Carrow spoke first, in an almost uncharacteristic bout of extroversion. Of course, it was to ask about her, though he did seem to relax.
“So, how is your placement with master Saylash?”
She was glad they were past the point where she might be concerned he was asking pointed questions to torture her. No, he couldn’t have known, in any case. It was a fair question. How to explain, though, that she thought her new master seemed to moon after her like a schoolboy? She resettled herself on the chair.
“It… Well, it’s a little awkward, to be honest.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s not so bad, really.” And it wasn’t. It was just, as she’d said, awkward. There were lots of ups and downs, but surely it would have been the same with master Alorus if she’d been with him any longer before his death. She was just finding her place, that was all… and trying to keep her boundaries. She focused these positive thoughts, pushing them through her as she explained, reaching out to share her heart with the sad rose that lay dying before her. “I mean, she knows a lot, though she clearly doesn’t have a lot of experience working with a wild mage. She expects me to follow everything just like her normal apprentices. But that, well I expected that. I can work on it. It’s just a learning curve for everyone, and the others have been very helpful.” The rose responded, unveiling its secret resplendence. It responded for her, she did it for Carrow, but its scent spread through the room, masked only by the stronger scents of the kitchen. Amala wondered if they had any rose based deserts.
“Then what’s the problem?”
She withdrew her touch. How to explain? Carrow didn’t strike her as very romantic, let alone… she killed the thought. “It just, well… She keeps *looking* at me, you know? And she’s always, well, very kind. Extra kind.”
“I’m sorry…” No, he didn’t follow. She was somewhat surprised – surely this sort of affection was more common in the city. She laughed – it was funny, sort of. Usually he was the more worldly one. No matter how well he thought she was doing in the city, she often found herself coming to him for advice. But apparently not about this.
“If she were a man, I would know what she wanted. I’m just…. It’s awkward. The other apprentices won’t talk to me about it, either.” She wondered if he’d have had more to say if her Master had been a man. If she’d opted to stay with Marcen and the others, it might have even been the case. But she may not have complained then, either. Those were thoughts she could give her rose, drawing her attention away from her companion’s flushing stammer. He embarrassed easily, she knew. Despite the extreme metamorphosis he’d undergone since he’d run away from their village years ago, he’d never shed his shyness completely.
“I, well, the guild, I’m sure, could do… you could talk to them.”
“No, they’ve already done so much for me, and I’ve given them so little in return…” So little yet. They’d had this conversation before as well – best to change the subject. “It will be alright. Like I said, it’s just awkward. How are things at the orphanage? How’s Lola?”
“Lola is as independent as ever.” Independent – she was the bitchiest cat Amala had ever met, though she simply smiled at the comment as Carrow continued. “And the orphanage…things are going well at the moment. I think we’ve finally raised enough in donations to begin restoration work on the west wing. The extra space will be a relief.”
This was a safer topic – Carrow was more comfortable, and confident. The world made sense to him at the House of Aervon’s Hope for Children. She knew how much it meant for him to be able to give something back.
“I’m glad for you,” she told him, honestly, as he told her about the plans for their expansion. “I know how much you’ve worked for this.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a rare smile – one that set his eyes twinkling.
“I have my own good news too! Just so you don’t worry about my new master.”
“What’s that?”
“My mother is coming to visit me!” It might have been cruel of her to stick him with this after building up his good mood, but she wasn’t honestly sure how he’d react. But it would be good for him, she was sure, in the end. His violent pessimism about anything to do with back home couldn’t be healthy. Hadn’t she shown him that even the shallowest of children could reform? She wasn’t anyone special, not really. She ignored the voice that reminded her she’d had no choice but to give him chance. She could be his bridge.
She didn’t get a chance to detail her plan right away, as dinner arrived. It smelled amazing! She’d had lamb plenty back home, but more often mutton. But this was different. Roasted more carefully, the flavours of the compote chose more carefully to be complimentary and enhance the meat’s flavour. It was going to be delicious. Carrow’s fish smelled just as good, a mouthwatering aroma of garlic wafting across the table. Maybe she would ask for a taste. He glanced around, reaching for a vial of something that he poured into his glass, and drank quickly. Her rose did its best to overpower the brief sting of sulphur. She focused her attention on her own meal.
The lamb was everything she’d hoped it would be, and she couldn’t help but smile as the flavours mingled in her mouth. Perfect! She savoured a few more bites as Carrow suspiciously chased lettuce around his place with his fork.
“So, when are you expecting her?”
She couldn’t be sure if she was imagining the tension in his voice simply because she was expecting it. Still, it *was* good news, at least for her. She hoped that if nothing else, he could be happy for her. “Soon. She said early spring in her last letter.”
“Really?” He seemed to be making an effort, maybe…
“Yes, I’m so excited! It will be good to see someone… Well, someone *else* from home. I’ve missed her dearly, you know. I just wish I could see the others. Maybe next year I can go back for a visit.”
He nodded, but Amala wondered whether Carrow were really listening. She knew his bitterness towards the village ran deep. Almost distractedly, he tried a forkful of his untouched dinner. Amala was trying to savour hers – draw it out so that it would last. And she may as well test the waters while they were on the subject.
“I haven’t said a lot about you, not since the first letter. But she never said anything about *that*, anyway.” Her mother hadn’t even acknowledge the casual name drop in her letter. She’d not said much – only that she’d found him, he’d helped her, and he’d changed a lot. Mind, the meat of the letter had focused on the way her cousin Feyr had been arrested for stalking her, murdering her Master, and stealing a priceless magical artifact. With so much to respond to, she could never decide whether her mother’s omission had been deliberate. Afterall, she’d minimized Carrow’s involvement herself. But she didn’t feel comfortable. He deserved better. “Still I think it will be good for you, won’t it? She has very good standing in the community, of course. You’ve changed so much from how people think of you, and it really just isn’t fair…”
His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. She hoped he might shake off the bitterness, but he hardly acknowledged her pitch, focusing instead on the dangers of traveling in spring. He wasn’t listening to her counterarguments though, or her placations… He pushed his plate away from him, making a face.
“Are you all right?”
He nodded, but he clearly wasn’t. The healthy colour was rapidly draining from his face, revealing an unhealthy grey hue. He was very tense also – she could see the tendons straining in his neck. But no, he was stubborn.
“You’re turning all pale. Carrow, don’t lie. If you need to leave, we can go, its fine.” Even as she offered, she knew he’d refuse. *Too* stubborn.
“Finish your dinner, please.” He grimace half a smile. He didn’t want to ruin her evening, the fool. Watching a friend suffer was not made any easier to bear with good food. She hurried through the rest of her lamb as she tried to explain the nature of her studies. Carrow was not a mage. He’d been told he had the talent, but preferred to devote himself to the church of Aervon, the Protector, at least in an unofficial capacity. It made the explanations difficult, especially as he could only half follow what she was saying. She declared herself finished with dinner after he failed to catch on as she rather obviously embellished some of her training tasks. He left what she though was a gross overpayment on the table, and they left with barely a wave to their server.
She hailed a carriage once they were outside. Carrow was leaning on her like a drunk, and that’s probably what the driver assumed. She gave him the address, and they were off. Her dinner companion had shrunk in on himself, fists in balls, pressed in to his sides, arms crossed over his stomach. He was nearly doubled over – convenient as he didn’t seem to want to meet her eye anyway. When she laid an arm on his back, he shrank away.
She’s never seen him like this. She’d understood that the illness that had made him such an outcast, decaying his system from within, had been cured. She didn’t know details – only enough to reckon that it must have been a miracle that he’d survived without magic. His system was clearly more delicate than he’d let on. Was this her fault? She’d upset him, and it couldn’t have helped matters. She doubted he could realistically be accused of overconfidence. Inattention, maybe… It didn’t matter.
Carrow mumbled half an apology before clamping a hand over his mouth. And there it was, carried on his breath. The smell of rot and organic decay that had caused the villagers to shun him, to treat him like an idiot, a creature worthy only of persecution. It was foul, and it clung to the air in the carriage. But she’d known him for months now and this was the first hint of it, or anything like it.
The carriage stopped, mercifully – she couldn’t think of what to say. She started to rise, but he’d already whispered a farewell, and dismounted in something of a controlled fall.
“You’ll be okay?” He nodded, she thought. She hoped. It was clear, at least, that he didn’t want her to see him like this. Was he crying or was that just sweat? His face was corpse ashen. “I’ll check on you,” she promised. She should have gone up, despite his wishes. But she couldn’t. She sat alone in the carriage with her revulsion and guilt as the driver waited for the air to clear and for her to give him new directions.
Beyond Dinner Redux
Though she knew she should be on time, as soon as she saw Carrow already seated at a table in the rear of the dining room, anxiously perusing a menu, she feared she was late. She whisked her way over to him, winding lightly through the other diners, making her apologies as she sat. He looked thin, but she always thought so. She wondered briefly if he looked any thinn*er* as he smiled his welcome. His dark green shirt, simple in compared to the more elaborate costumes she’s seen as she passed through the room, brought out the brightness of his eyes.
“No, not long.”
There wasn’t time for further elaboration as a server appeared to query about her choice of drinks. Carrow gave her an encouraging nod. She’d been reading, when she had time, about these sorts of things. A sweet red might be a novice’s choice, but so be it – a novice she was. She tried to sound confident at least, and the server didn’t seem too disdainful of her selection. Carrow patiently sipped his water as he waited.
“That was nerve wracking,” she admitted as he disappeared, “wasn’t it? So many questions! Still, thank you again for coming out with me. I couldn’t imagine coming to a place like this alone.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
She flipped open the menu. The food all sounded so rich and complex – even the dishes that might have been simple, in theory, to prepare were made more exciting and exotic with the addition of expensive ingredients or time consuming techniques.
“What should I order? Meat to go with the wine, is that how it works?”
“The lamb sounds interesting…” He trailed off, and she thought she saw a pained look cross his face. With dawning realization, she flipped back through the menu. She’d known, of course, that he kept a very strict diet on account of his somewhat precarious health, but it hadn’t occurred to her when she’d asked if he would accompany her on an excursion to this high class restaurant. No, and of course he’d never say anything. “What are you having? Oh, I’m sorry, Carrow, I didn’t realize it would all be so heavy…” Suddenly descriptions of thick cream sauces, cheese stuffing, and spiced wine dressings seemed to jump off every page she turned.
“I’ll be fine.” He sounded tired. This was likely something he encountered a lot. Probably whenever he went out. And surely he must, sometimes… at least for work? She wasn’t certain. But it would do no good to press him – he could take care of himself in any case.
“Alright. I’ll try the lamb, anyway.”
The both set their menus down, summoning the server as though by magic. Carrow ordered for the both of them – he didn’t have to, but it seemed to be expected. She thanked the waiter and was rewarded by what might have passed as a smile in this environment.
Carrow spoke first, in an almost uncharacteristic bout of extroversion. Of course, it was to ask about her, though he did seem to relax.
“So, how is your placement with master Saylash?”
She was glad they were past the point where she might be concerned he was asking pointed questions to torture her. No, he couldn’t have known, in any case. It was a fair question. How to explain, though, that she thought her new master seemed to moon after her like a schoolboy? She resettled herself on the chair.
“It… Well, it’s a little awkward, to be honest.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s not so bad, really.” And it wasn’t. It was just, as she’d said, awkward. There were lots of ups and downs, but surely it would have been the same with master Alorus if she’d been with him any longer before his death. She was just finding her place, that was all… and trying to keep her boundaries. She focused these positive thoughts, pushing them through her as she explained, reaching out to share her heart with the sad rose that lay dying before her. “I mean, she knows a lot, though she clearly doesn’t have a lot of experience working with a wild mage. She expects me to follow everything just like her normal apprentices. But that, well I expected that. I can work on it. It’s just a learning curve for everyone, and the others have been very helpful.” The rose responded, unveiling its secret resplendence. It responded for her, she did it for Carrow, but its scent spread through the room, masked only by the stronger scents of the kitchen. Amala wondered if they had any rose based deserts.
“Then what’s the problem?”
She withdrew her touch. How to explain? Carrow didn’t strike her as very romantic, let alone… she killed the thought. “It just, well… She keeps *looking* at me, you know? And she’s always, well, very kind. Extra kind.”
“I’m sorry…” No, he didn’t follow. She was somewhat surprised – surely this sort of affection was more common in the city. She laughed – it was funny, sort of. Usually he was the more worldly one. No matter how well he thought she was doing in the city, she often found herself coming to him for advice. But apparently not about this.
“If she were a man, I would know what she wanted. I’m just…. It’s awkward. The other apprentices won’t talk to me about it, either.” She wondered if he’d have had more to say if her Master had been a man. If she’d opted to stay with Marcen and the others, it might have even been the case. But she may not have complained then, either. Those were thoughts she could give her rose, drawing her attention away from her companion’s flushing stammer. He embarrassed easily, she knew. Despite the extreme metamorphosis he’d undergone since he’d run away from their village years ago, he’d never shed his shyness completely.
“I, well, the guild, I’m sure, could do… you could talk to them.”
“No, they’ve already done so much for me, and I’ve given them so little in return…” So little yet. They’d had this conversation before as well – best to change the subject. “It will be alright. Like I said, it’s just awkward. How are things at the orphanage? How’s Lola?”
“Lola is as independent as ever.” Independent – she was the bitchiest cat Amala had ever met, though she simply smiled at the comment as Carrow continued. “And the orphanage…things are going well at the moment. I think we’ve finally raised enough in donations to begin restoration work on the west wing. The extra space will be a relief.”
This was a safer topic – Carrow was more comfortable, and confident. The world made sense to him at the House of Aervon’s Hope for Children. She knew how much it meant for him to be able to give something back.
“I’m glad for you,” she told him, honestly, as he told her about the plans for their expansion. “I know how much you’ve worked for this.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a rare smile – one that set his eyes twinkling.
“I have my own good news too! Just so you don’t worry about my new master.”
“What’s that?”
“My mother is coming to visit me!” It might have been cruel of her to stick him with this after building up his good mood, but she wasn’t honestly sure how he’d react. But it would be good for him, she was sure, in the end. His violent pessimism about anything to do with back home couldn’t be healthy. Hadn’t she shown him that even the shallowest of children could reform? She wasn’t anyone special, not really. She ignored the voice that reminded her she’d had no choice but to give him chance. She could be his bridge.
She didn’t get a chance to detail her plan right away, as dinner arrived. It smelled amazing! She’d had lamb plenty back home, but more often mutton. But this was different. Roasted more carefully, the flavours of the compote chose more carefully to be complimentary and enhance the meat’s flavour. It was going to be delicious. Carrow’s fish smelled just as good, a mouthwatering aroma of garlic wafting across the table. Maybe she would ask for a taste. He glanced around, reaching for a vial of something that he poured into his glass, and drank quickly. Her rose did its best to overpower the brief sting of sulphur. She focused her attention on her own meal.
The lamb was everything she’d hoped it would be, and she couldn’t help but smile as the flavours mingled in her mouth. Perfect! She savoured a few more bites as Carrow suspiciously chased lettuce around his place with his fork.
“So, when are you expecting her?”
She couldn’t be sure if she was imagining the tension in his voice simply because she was expecting it. Still, it *was* good news, at least for her. She hoped that if nothing else, he could be happy for her. “Soon. She said early spring in her last letter.”
“Really?” He seemed to be making an effort, maybe…
“Yes, I’m so excited! It will be good to see someone… Well, someone *else* from home. I’ve missed her dearly, you know. I just wish I could see the others. Maybe next year I can go back for a visit.”
He nodded, but Amala wondered whether Carrow were really listening. She knew his bitterness towards the village ran deep. Almost distractedly, he tried a forkful of his untouched dinner. Amala was trying to savour hers – draw it out so that it would last. And she may as well test the waters while they were on the subject.
“I haven’t said a lot about you, not since the first letter. But she never said anything about *that*, anyway.” Her mother hadn’t even acknowledge the casual name drop in her letter. She’d not said much – only that she’d found him, he’d helped her, and he’d changed a lot. Mind, the meat of the letter had focused on the way her cousin Feyr had been arrested for stalking her, murdering her Master, and stealing a priceless magical artifact. With so much to respond to, she could never decide whether her mother’s omission had been deliberate. Afterall, she’d minimized Carrow’s involvement herself. But she didn’t feel comfortable. He deserved better. “Still I think it will be good for you, won’t it? She has very good standing in the community, of course. You’ve changed so much from how people think of you, and it really just isn’t fair…”
His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. She hoped he might shake off the bitterness, but he hardly acknowledged her pitch, focusing instead on the dangers of traveling in spring. He wasn’t listening to her counterarguments though, or her placations… He pushed his plate away from him, making a face.
“Are you all right?”
He nodded, but he clearly wasn’t. The healthy colour was rapidly draining from his face, revealing an unhealthy grey hue. He was very tense also – she could see the tendons straining in his neck. But no, he was stubborn.
“You’re turning all pale. Carrow, don’t lie. If you need to leave, we can go, its fine.” Even as she offered, she knew he’d refuse. *Too* stubborn.
“Finish your dinner, please.” He grimace half a smile. He didn’t want to ruin her evening, the fool. Watching a friend suffer was not made any easier to bear with good food. She hurried through the rest of her lamb as she tried to explain the nature of her studies. Carrow was not a mage. He’d been told he had the talent, but preferred to devote himself to the church of Aervon, the Protector, at least in an unofficial capacity. It made the explanations difficult, especially as he could only half follow what she was saying. She declared herself finished with dinner after he failed to catch on as she rather obviously embellished some of her training tasks. He left what she though was a gross overpayment on the table, and they left with barely a wave to their server.
She hailed a carriage once they were outside. Carrow was leaning on her like a drunk, and that’s probably what the driver assumed. She gave him the address, and they were off. Her dinner companion had shrunk in on himself, fists in balls, pressed in to his sides, arms crossed over his stomach. He was nearly doubled over – convenient as he didn’t seem to want to meet her eye anyway. When she laid an arm on his back, he shrank away.
She’s never seen him like this. She’d understood that the illness that had made him such an outcast, decaying his system from within, had been cured. She didn’t know details – only enough to reckon that it must have been a miracle that he’d survived without magic. His system was clearly more delicate than he’d let on. Was this her fault? She’d upset him, and it couldn’t have helped matters. She doubted he could realistically be accused of overconfidence. Inattention, maybe… It didn’t matter.
Carrow mumbled half an apology before clamping a hand over his mouth. And there it was, carried on his breath. The smell of rot and organic decay that had caused the villagers to shun him, to treat him like an idiot, a creature worthy only of persecution. It was foul, and it clung to the air in the carriage. But she’d known him for months now and this was the first hint of it, or anything like it.
The carriage stopped, mercifully – she couldn’t think of what to say. She started to rise, but he’d already whispered a farewell, and dismounted in something of a controlled fall.
“You’ll be okay?” He nodded, she thought. She hoped. It was clear, at least, that he didn’t want her to see him like this. Was he crying or was that just sweat? His face was corpse ashen. “I’ll check on you,” she promised. She should have gone up, despite his wishes. But she couldn’t. She sat alone in the carriage with her revulsion and guilt as the driver waited for the air to clear and for her to give him new directions.