francel de haillenarte (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
haillenarte) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gurabad2017-04-17 09:15 am
haillenarte) wrote in gurabad2017-04-17 09:15 am
029 » got caught up in my own selfishness
[it isn't often that one catches lord francel de haillenarte at a banquet.
the reason, first and foremost, is that he is the leader of the garrison at skyfire locks (de jure if not de facto), and he does not like to give the impression that he has all that much free time. a second, more pressing reason, is that he is simply bad at attending banquets — or rather, that he's become bad at it.
it's odd. when he was younger, he was much better at playing the games of high society. he was charming then, small and cute and quick-witted in a way that would make adults laugh. but now, francel stands at that awkward age where he is somehow neither adult nor child — too old to consort with little lordlings and fresh-bloomed ladies, certainly, but too young to entertain the idea of marriage, and too powerless to engage with political intrigue. francel has, in short, nothing to do at the banquet save gorge himself on delicate servings of pudding and dance half-heartedly with women whose dress he compliments before their looks... but he wasn't in a position to refuse an invitation from count dzemael, and he isn't in a position now to leave without good cause.
he takes a break from dancing at one corner of the room, and gazes wistfully out at the dance floor, at the noble ladies twirling beside handsome lords and knights. it would be nice to be one of them, he thinks to himself. to have little else to think of save the latest fashions and what suitors one's father might arrange.
a moment later, he resents himself for thinking anything so cruel.
francel is so caught up in his feelings of vague, implacable envy that he doesn't quite notice that he's seized someone else's glass when he moves to fill his own.]
Hm? Ah, pray forgive me —
the reason, first and foremost, is that he is the leader of the garrison at skyfire locks (de jure if not de facto), and he does not like to give the impression that he has all that much free time. a second, more pressing reason, is that he is simply bad at attending banquets — or rather, that he's become bad at it.
it's odd. when he was younger, he was much better at playing the games of high society. he was charming then, small and cute and quick-witted in a way that would make adults laugh. but now, francel stands at that awkward age where he is somehow neither adult nor child — too old to consort with little lordlings and fresh-bloomed ladies, certainly, but too young to entertain the idea of marriage, and too powerless to engage with political intrigue. francel has, in short, nothing to do at the banquet save gorge himself on delicate servings of pudding and dance half-heartedly with women whose dress he compliments before their looks... but he wasn't in a position to refuse an invitation from count dzemael, and he isn't in a position now to leave without good cause.
he takes a break from dancing at one corner of the room, and gazes wistfully out at the dance floor, at the noble ladies twirling beside handsome lords and knights. it would be nice to be one of them, he thinks to himself. to have little else to think of save the latest fashions and what suitors one's father might arrange.
a moment later, he resents himself for thinking anything so cruel.
francel is so caught up in his feelings of vague, implacable envy that he doesn't quite notice that he's seized someone else's glass when he moves to fill his own.]
Hm? Ah, pray forgive me —
no subject
...I? I am... I am only a man, Your Eminence, like other men.
[what is he? what is he, actually? how to explain himself, without divulging any of his most terrible wecrets, hos deepest sins? he lowers his eyes to his shoes.]
I did forsake the life of a seminarian and priest to seek vengeance for my brother — to reclaim the honor of House Haillenarte. But my efforts have proved fruitless... the dragons Svara and Naul evade our iron and steel time and time again. I...
[none of these are accomplishments. if anything, francel is providing a list of ways in which he has failed. he shakes his head.]
I dream, from time to time, of conducting an orchestra... frivolous, I know...
no subject
"All men have their dreams. Yours, son of Haillenarte, is far less frivolous than you fear. There is great power in music. You need but think of our hymns."
The archbishop lapses into contemplative silence, though he breaks it before long.
"Mayhap your methods hinder your efforts..." ]
no subject
My... my methods, Your Eminence?