022 » baby pull me closer in the backseat of your rover

[haillenarte]

[francel's seven years old, this week. he's counting off the days until he'll be eight. his nameday is next week — and he's not certain that anyone will remember, not really, but it's fun all the same.

it's definitely more fun than accompanying his father to fortemps manor, anyway. francel likes sneaking into fortemps manor so that he can see haurchefant — but he doesn't like going with his father, because count haillenarte always insists that haurchefant has better things to do, that countess fortemps is making him run errands, and that francel should just be a good boy and play games with the servants in the parlor.

except there aren't any servants in the parlor. instead, there's a boy about twice his age sitting on a couch, and he isn't haurchefant — he's haurchefant's older brother (half-brother? father always tells him not to say that out loud, and it's very confusing).]

...H-Hello, Lord Artoirel.

[francel bows, but he's still not very good at it, and he wobbles a little when he shifts his weight to one leg. his boyish voice trembles like a sparrow's when he talks.]

F-Fair weather today, is it not?

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[ironbone]

[Thankfully for Francel, the path is kept well manicured and he won't really be in much danger of tripping over an errant rock or root. Artoirel will gently rest a hand on his back just in case regardless, though. Navigating with one's eyes closed seems a strange method to him, but if that's what it takes for Francel to resist the urge to go running down the wrong path he won't judge him for it.

Much.

After what probably seems like a terribly long time wandering around with his eyes closed they come to the clearing. Artoirel gently squeezes his shoulder to get his attention.]

There now, see? We're here.

[It's a tranquil little spot. The gazebo he spoke of sits in the middle. So that it's not easily visible over the hedge walls it's fairly small, but the benches inside look comfortable and the shade is always welcome on a warm day. It looks out over a wildflower garden (it would be too much to ask a gardener to make their way in here every day to tend to anything fancy) and the fish pond. The pond itself has a little rock fountain to keep the water from growing stagnant and a variety of aquatic plants to provide the fish some cover.]

[haillenarte]

...We're here?

We're here!

[the fact that artoirel's advice leads him to the clearing seemingly like magic both surprises and absolutely delights francel. he can't help but let out a boyish cry at the sight of the clearing; the gazebo might be small, but it's plenty big enough for a small child. unfortunately, the details of the pond's careful construction escapes him for now.

francel turns around and gives artoirel another spontaneous hug before he dashes ahead to the fish pond. sure enough, the carp swarm towards him, expecting food.]

There really are fish in here! Lord Artoirel, what do fish eat?

[ironbone]

[He should probably remind him to keep his composure, but it's difficult to want to when he's so obviously gleeful over managing to find the maze's center. Pleasure at a job well done is something he can understand.]

They are a bottom feeding variety, so they eat just about anything. I believe we have a bag of dried mealworms somewhere around here...

[Artoirel takes a few steps over to the gazebo and pulls the bag out from beneath a bench. There are undoubtedly some other types of bugs in there as well, but it doesn't really matter since the fish will eat most any insect.]

Would you like to feed them?

[haillenarte]

[mysteriously, francel only smiles back in response, and poses an odd question:]

Lord Artoirel, what do sea monsters eat?

[ironbone]

[What a strange thing to ask. He cocks a brow, then ultimately shakes his head.]

I can't say that I do.

[Other than "everything they can get their mouths around", but he doubts that's the answer here.]

[haillenarte]

Fish and ships!

[...he promptly laughs so hard he falls flat on his ass.]

[ironbone]

[Twelve above, that's terrible. Considering the fact that Francel is only seven he supposes he should be glad that it wasn't somehow a joke about excrement, but even so! If Emmanellain told a joke like that he'd toss him into the pond. That is not appropriate conduct with a guest, so he'll have to refrain.]

I see, [he responds flatly. Try not to be too disappointed that he's so very unamused, Francel. He's fourteen, he's at that age where he tries just a little too hard to be cool.]

[haillenarte]

[no, even at seven francel has learned that the point of a bad joke is to laugh at it when no one else does.

this is why he doesn't have friends.]

Hee hee!

[another cheeky grin, and he'll reach out to take the bag of ground-up bugs.]

I want to feed the carp, but how much is enough?

[ironbone]

[After a long-enduring sigh he opts to put the joke behind him without comment. It doesn't deserve a comment.]

A half a handful for each one should suffice.

[For someone with tiny little hands, at least. Artoirel demonstrates by taking out a large pinch and tossing it into the pond. He'll hand the bag over after that.]

Some are greedier than others, so do be sure to spread it out.

[haillenarte]

[with artoirel's advice in mind, francel spreads feed evenly across the surface of the pond. it's really fun, seeing the way the fish move wherever he directs them!

...his enjoyment of the activity is marred, however, when he notices that one of the smaller carp seems to be having a hard time getting any food. he points it out.]

That one won't eat, my lord...

[ironbone]

[The small one is likely sickly if it's too slow to get any food. Privately he thinks it should just be left alone, but he can see where Francel might sympathize with it.]

...try digging in the bag a bit. There is usually a larger beetle or two trying to feed on the dried worms. If you find one, you can just feed it to the small fish directly.

[haillenarte]

[francel purses his lips. privately, he doesn't like larger bugs very much — but he's a boy, and boys aren't supposed to be so squeamish, so with displeasure written all over his round little face he brings out one of the beetles artoirel was talking about and tries to isolate the sick fish to feed it the beetle directly.]

Shoo. I said shoo! Go away! [swatting at the greedier carps isn't doing him much good.] You are dismissed, fish!

[...strangely, that order actually seems to work, as the bigger carp give up and allow the little one to gobble the beetle down in peace.]

[ironbone]

[That imperious little order is just too cute. Who tries to dismiss a fish so seriously? Artoirel swallows a laugh, lightly ruffling Francel's hair.]

You best leave it at that ere it starts to think you are its mother.

[Not that fish really have a concept of family ties, but the way the little carp is now eagerly gaping its mouth at Francel like a baby bird makes him think of it regardless.]

[haillenarte]

[honestly, the only thing going through francel's little brain right now is if a fish is dismissed, does that make it disfished?

but the ruffling of his hair distracts him from the fish long enough to forget it and all its fishy problems. francel smiles up at artoirel, very sweetly, but he seems a little sad.]

...But fish do not have mothers, do they? They hatch out of eggs, and their parents do not truly care for them. They will watch until the eggs hatch, perhaps, but no further. Some fish even eat their own young.

[there's a forlorn, wistful quality to his voice that suggests that even at this tender age, he can somehow relate to those poor abandoned baby fish.

...but this implies that francel has definitely been through a children's marine biology book about fish before.

...this implies that his earlier question about what fish eat was literally just a setup to his dumb fucking joke.]

[ironbone]

[An implication he would really rather not dwell on, for that would mean he's in for a great deal more bad puns when Francel visits next. He seems somewhat surprised at how familiar Francel seems to be with fish, nodding as he takes the feed sack and rolls it shut again.]

Aye. You are surprisingly well read for your age, Lord Francel.

[He honestly can't say he was the same when he was seven. Most of his efforts went toward mastering etiquette and swordplay with some basic conjury thrown in for good measure. That isn't to say he neglected his studies in other areas, but fish were far down the list of things he felt would be necessary to carry out his duties.]

Did you learn that from your uncle?

[haillenarte]

No, I only speak to that uncle at banquets.

[he laces his hands behind his back, watching as the fish lose their interest and fan out to different corners of the pond again.]

When I have time to myself, I like to read the books in my father's library. Only he thinks it strange that I like to read his tomes, so he keeps bringing me boys' books — the sorts with knights and dragons in them. I read those too, but that never takes more than a bell or two. Father's books are more challenging.

[ironbone]

I should think he would be glad. You said you lack talent for swordplay, did you not? Perhaps you could become a scholar instead. You have two fine brothers that can become knights.

[Unless Francel gains considerable strength with puberty it would be a mistake to ask him to become a knight, anyway. He can still bring honor to his house without taking up a sword, so there's no need.]

[haillenarte]

Only two? [francel laughs.] Have even you given up on Stephanivien, Lord Artoirel?

[and then, a little flatly:]

...Father wants all of us to become knights. That's just how it is.

[ironbone]

[Oh dear, he really shouldn't have let that slip!]

I would not say that I've "given up on him", but I have noticed that his talents lie elsewhere. It would be a shame to not capitalize on that. The wishes of your father must be taken into account, of course...

[Artoirel glances away. Sometimes lately he feels as if there's one particular duty expected of the eldest son that he may have trouble fulfilling. Taking a wife is something he holds absolutely no interest in — if he's being entirely honest with himself, he's actually somewhat repulsed by the thought.]

[haillenarte]

Yes, our tutors say that Chlodebaimt shines the most brightly of all of us. But Laniaitte handles a blade better than Aurvael or myself... and Stephanivien refuses to show up to practice entirely.

[disenchanted with the fish, francel wanders over to the pretty gazebo, and takes a seat, swinging his little legs when they don't touch the ground as he's seated.]

What about you, my lord? Are you like Haurchefant? Haurchefant is always practicing. I think it such a wonder he never gets bored of it.

[ironbone]

[Are you like Haurchefant. As if he would want to resemble a bastard in the slightest way.]

I should say not. I have a great many other things to attend to; I cannot afford to simply swing a sword around day in and day out.

[Lifting his chin, Artoirel follows after Francel so that he can stash the feed sack back under one of the benches. He doesn't yet sit, though.]

I am fair with a blade though, and I have passing skill in conjury as well.

[haillenarte]

[francel looks at artoirel with wide-eyed surprise, clapping his hands together in excitement.]

Conjury? You know conjury, Lord Artoirel? Oh, that seems ever so convenient! I wish I could learn the healing arts, but the House physicians say it would be bad for my humors.

[ironbone]

[The praise softens his mood again. Though he may not be all that vain he does enjoy recognition as much as the next man, and his father is sparing with praise unless he does something truly exceptional.]

The healing arts can be somewhat taxing, [he agrees modestly.] You must tune in with nature or you run the risk of harming yourself rather than healing another. If your humors are already out of balance then the learning process could cause you no small amount of damage. Do you fall ill often?

[haillenarte]

[francel nods solemnly.]

Yes, often. The physicians always have some new reason for it. Mayhap I forgot to wear my coat, or mayhap I went out when it was too cold, or I went out when it was too warm...

Sometimes I think they just make these things up because they cannot simply fell my father that they don't know what's wrong with me.

[ironbone]

[And his father still wishes for him to be a knight? He must think that learning swordplay will strengthen his body. It seems such an unnecessary risk when Francel clearly has a bright mind that could be put to use — if not for his small size and the fact that Artoirel already knew his age from the start, he would have thought him to be at least a couple years older than he actually is.]

I doubt that they are simply making things up. If the usual explanations fail them then they must continue to try other things. Diagnosing someone can be quite tricky.

[Or so he hears. He's not a physician, but he certainly speaks with an air of authority on the subject regardless!]

Since you are not bedridden, I would say you're likely to grow out of it. Childhood illnesses that fade as the body grows are common. Perhaps you can learn conjury when you are older.