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|Marten Rhodes||Posted on Apr 1 2015, 01:41 PM|
Marten knew perfectly well that romantic entanglements were not something that tended to occupy Lucien's mind, making it all the more amusing - to Marten, anyway - to tease him. To the best of Marten's knowledge, Lucien had never had what one could call a "relationship". Marten wasn't even certain if the younger man was even attracted to men, women, both, or merely birds (which posed all sorts of other interesting questions). It was one of many roads where Lucien's personality and Marten's divided significantly. Lucien hardly seemed to know that sex existed, whereas prior to the curse, Marten had been known among nobility as something of a rake. Drunk, he had once proclaimed proudly at court during a holiday at which the Kingdom's noble families were gathered, that he'd bedded at least one of every bloodline. Lucien was a teenager at the time; his family had proceeded to balk somewhat at Marten's relationship with the boy until it was clear that even if Marten had possessed some designs on him - he hadn't - that Lucien would be enthusiastically cold on the matter.
It was a shame, Marten used to think, that Lucien was so involved in his own, strange, shadowy world. He could have had a successful romantic life if he'd wanted. He was a fine-looking young man, attractive despite his lackadaisical sense of self care. Now a mysterious recluse himself, Marten understood well the impulse to remain that way.
Marten shot another glare at the raven as Lucien chastised him. The bird was busy preening its feathers, obviously pleased with itself. ”Busy. Did you know that the daughter of Lancaster Reeds has a lover who is a farmer? Fascinating debacle that will be once her father finds out.”
Perching himself on a stone table by the window, Marten let out a bark of laughter. "Well, that should be interesting. Almost makes me wish I still attended court. I always did love a good scandal," he said, almost wistfully. He hadn't even been to Mormont in five years, hadn't seen or even corresponded with anyone of consequence besides Lucien. Not that it was likely anyone missed him. "Of course, it oughtn't surprise anyone. It isn't as though the Reeds don't have a history of questionable liaisons. Do you know, about two kingships ago, one of the Reed girls fucked an ambassador from the Mainland? When she snubbed him at court, the ambassador went on a rampage. Nearly started a war, all because some little chit couldn't open her mouth as well as her legs."
He pulled himself further back on the table to rest his back against the wall, and he pulled one leg up to lay his arm over his knee.
"Do you know," he said thoughtfully, "of all the noble families, there is no alliance that makes more sense than the Rhodes and the Wormwoods. Besides the fact that members of both are notoriously prickly, history and secrets really do go hand in hand. Between the two of us, I'm sure we could blackmail every noble family six times by next Wednesday."</inside></div>
|Lucien Wormwood||Posted on Mar 30 2015, 09:47 AM|
Lucien had things to do and people to plot against. That was what he enjoyed more than anything else in the world. Really it was a sad existence. He did nothing more than see how other people were living their lives and planning how to change that. But rarely did Lucien ever actually live his own life. Mostly his time was spent watching the world through the eyes of his ravens. If he had managed to actually walk outside of these four walls every now and then, he would find that the world had changed quite a bit since he was young.
He rolled his eyes at Marten’s jest, ignoring the entirety of his statement. Marten would be the man that would consider all these things to be sexual. There was nothing sexual about them considering that most of them were used in extremely dangerous dark magic ways. Lucien crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head slightly to the side. Much like the bird he turned into during the day. ”Considering those scissors are used to cut hearts out of birds, I sincerely hope they are not kinky.”
Not that Lucien would really know all that much. He didn’t have the best track record when it came to any of those things. He hated people. People hated him. Really there wasn’t much else to say about it. The few romantic encounters he had managed had been sorely displeasing and frankly messy.
Lucien didn’t do messy.
The raven did what Lucien wanted to do. He enjoyed the well of blood just as much as the raven, though that could have been the rush of triumph he was feeling from the bird. ”Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you.” He said sarcastically, though turned to grasp the goblet that held wine. ”Busy. Did you know that the daughter of Lancaster Reeds has a lover who is a farmer? Fascinating debacle that will be once her father finds out.”
|Marten Rhodes||Posted on Mar 26 2015, 10:20 PM|
Lucien came to the door and graciously waved Marten in. Marten obliged, immediately strolling around the tower room to see what had changed. Not a great deal, as it happened. But then, he wasn't surprised; Lucien wasn't the most flexible of souls. Even as a child, he had been set in his ways and deliberate about his interests. The Wormwoods, well...they weren't altogether pleasant people. Marten hadn't been uncomfortable with them, but their personalities tended to be on the dour side. A dislike of interruption in their routines seemed to go along with it.
"Do stop calling yourself my Uncle, Marten. That would mean you're related to the Wormwoods, and I'm certain you do not wish that."
Marten responded with a bright, crooked grin. The Wormwoods were odd folks, to be sure. Maren wasn't sure he would have wanted to be born to the Wormwoods rather than the Rhodes. Somehow he doubted his headaches would be much better...though the headaches were the very reason he'd come to visit. And to visit the boy, of course. Marten had precious few friends. Lucien, it was likely, had even fewer. He idled around the room, peering curiously at the ingredients and instruments on the tables. He picked up what looked like a pair of long curved scissors with an elegant wooden handle.
"Do you know," he said conversationally, "you would have positively the kinkiest chambers I have ever seen, if you had ever seemed remotely interested in - OW, motherf-..."
A raven who had been picking at his feathers on a stack of nearby books pecked viciously at Marten's fingers, drawing a slit of blood and causing him to drop the scissors with a clatter onto the table. Marten glared at the bird, repressing the leonine urge to snarl. He swatted at it, though halfheartedly, knowing Lucien wouldn't appreciate him harassing his birds - even if the bird had started it.
"So, how have you been?" he asked, swinging around to face Lucien. "You know very well I wouldn't bother asking if I didn't care."
|Lucien Wormwood||Posted on Mar 25 2015, 10:28 PM|
The servants knew better than to interrupt him when he was working. Hell, they knew better than to interrupt him ever. Lucien was not known for being the kind of master that wanted people to know what he was doing. He was like his father in that way. Always holed up in the highest tower of the manor, doing Gods know what, Lucien was more a ghost than a man. But they were allowed to do whatever they wanted with the home as long as it would look slightly presentable for when his mother managed to show her ugly bat like face.
He was sore. The change always made his body sore, it was why he took the potions that a local witch made for him. They eased the pain when he hadn't thought it was possible. Of course, she was a sassy little thing who used her magic to her advantage. Lucien would have to do something about that eventually, but for the meantime he simply enjoyed the banter that allowed him to have a few moments of peace every now and then. His mind was nothing short of "busy" and that usually stopped him from speaking to people all that often.
When he heard the heavy footsteps coming up his spiral stairwell, he knew that it wasn't any of the servants. They snuck up the stairs and gently laid down his food before they left. He knew when they were going to leave it, and they knew that he wouldn't want to be disturbed. Every now and then he would wander down and grace them with his presence, but usually Lucien was far too busy for that. Knowing all the secrets that he wanted to know took time and energy.
Rolling his eyes, he shrugged his robe a little more tightly around his shoulder and opened the door. "Do stop calling yourself my Uncle, Marten." He gestured with a hand to walk into the small room. "That would mean you're related to the Wormwood's, and I'm certain you do not wish that."
The room was small, quaint, and interesting enough. It was filled with a small bed, a desk, a perch for him near the window, and all the dark magic tools anyone could ever need. There were two comfortable chairs near the fire that he kept going. He was always cold, one of the things he had lost to dark magic.
|Marten Rhodes||Posted on Mar 25 2015, 09:32 PM|
Marten spent so much time in his estate home with no company beyond the elderly butler who had been a fixture in the place since birth, and usually he was untroubled by it. He had spent the better part of his adulthood reveling in company, even company he hated, just to abate and distract the endless noise in his head. His own insecurities, his own lack of focus, to say nothing of the histories and memories that were his birthright... Sometimes, the excess of volume in his mind was only soothed by idle chatter and a great deal of alcohol. At home, at least, he had one of those things, even if his drinking habit was met with some disapproval by the old butler, August, who had watched that very thing kill Marten's father. But August, though a good listener when Marten was in a loquacious mood, was not terribly loquacious himself. And so, Marten embarked on a rare sojourn outside his private property, to see one of the few friends he had living. He had set off as soon as the sun set. The nighttime excursion was necessary, not only because he didn't wish to be seen in his beast form, but because Lucien would be even less gregarious while he was a bird.
It could be reasoned that in visiting Lucien, Marten was barking up entirely the wrong tree if he was looking for conversation. Sometimes Lucien might spout off a bit if he was excited about something - as excited as he got - but generally, Marten did all the talking for the both of them. What he really wanted was the company, and the distraction. Lucien could provide that. Sometimes Marten even hoped he was eager to. He was a strange child, to be sure, and he was a strange man to be fond of; it was only on his optimistic days that Marten even suspected that Lucien returned Marten's fondness at all. Marten had only found himself in Lucien's life by chance, having stayed with his family when he was a teenager and Lucien was a gloomy five year old. If it hadn't been for that connection, Marten doubted Lucien would have much patience with the older man at all.
He arrived at the Wormwood's home and walked in through the front, nearly scaring the daylights out of a chambermaid who had been crossing the front hall with a bundle of washed linens. The house was otherwise empty and still, a huge hollow gourd of a structure that looked barely lived in enough to warrant even the scarce servants there were. It was a cold sort of place, though admittedly little more so than when there had been more family in it. He bounded up the tower steps two at a time, less for speed and more to make a fair amount of noise, so Lucien would expect him. He doubted the boy would think it was anyone else; it wasn't as though he got many visitors. About as many, Marten suspected, as Marten did himself. That is, none.
Reaching Lucien's rooms, this time, he did knock, leaning idly on the door as he gave it a couple sharp raps.
"Lucien, darling," he called. "Open up for your uncle, would you? He's come all this way."
|Lucien Wormwood||Posted on Mar 25 2015, 08:36 AM|
Lucien wasn’t precisely the kind of man that anyone wanted to be around. He was too thin, too strange, too effortlessly dark and it made people uncomfortable. He had always been that way. Even when he was just a child. Lucien had been more the type to linger in the shadows and watch everyone from the side than to partake in any sort of festivity. Most blamed his actions on a painful shyness that was so far from the truth. It was more likely that Lucien simply didn’t want anything to do with any of the people there.
Following through his strangeness was the way that he had grown. Instead of living where any normal person would have lived, Lucien had chosen the tower of his mother’s second home. She was rarely here because the memories were too thick for her. She didn’t want to live so close to the place where such tragedy had happened. The tragedy was Lucien’s father who had committed suicide when Lucien was quite young in the very place where he spent most of his time now. He had gotten too addicted to black magic and eventually… Well magic always takes its price.
The lingering ghosts never bothered Lucien though, not when there was so much else to do. Every night he shifted back to human form. Too thin, too waiflike. Just like his father. But he would eat what he could and then call upon the ravens to see what they had seen. After the curse hit, Lucien had started living his life through the birds.
Not that it was really all that much different than before. He hadn’t exactly had a full life before the curse, and he did now after it. But there was a calm sort of rhythm in draining his blood for the birds to feast upon so that he could see what they had seen.