Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Oct 22, 2012 2:03:26 GMT -5
Marel Vand was in fine form, and devoting great attention to his guests. Aerith was a bit of an afterthought actually, much to her chagrin. Her father was the man of the hour after all, a remarkably well-preserved man who still seemed young and thriving.
It made Aerith despair of him ever dying and vacating his title. Mentally she rebuked herself for the thought. He was now the only living blood relative she had, and as much as she lusted for the title Countess, she was loath to give up her own father.
There was a limit to her ambition, for the moment at least. A sense of decorum held her at bay. Patience would provide for Aerith Vand, would see that her needs were met in good time. All she had to do was wait and things would go her way now, there was no one between her and her inheritance. What was rightfully hers was now legally hers.
Time slipped by, and the pale aristocrat found herself impatient. What was taking the constabulary so long? She resisted the urge to glance at the ornate clock on the wall, instead contenting to wait for the hourly toll of the clocktower's bell. She was near the balcony when it rang out midnight, and just as she was about to comment on the absence of her brothers, a unformed man walked in through the main door, scanning the crowd.
He found the Count and whispered something to him, and the smile faded from his face. He whispered something back, and the conversation continued, Marel Vand's face sinking lower and lower as it happened.
Finally he sank into a chair and covered his eyes, and Aerith made her move.
"What is it father? What's wrong?" She asked as she held on to his hand with slender white fingers.
The Count didn't answer, so the constable leaned down.
"There was an accident Lady Vand, your brothers have both been killed."
"No, that's not possible. You must have made some kind of mistake." Aerith's voice was well-practiced, the precise reaction of shock and disbelief she'd labored to perfect before a mirror for two full weeks.
"I'm sorry milady, but there's been no mistake. The DNA is a match."
Aerith forced her eyes to tear up, and she 'cried' softly for a few minutes before sitting beside her father, huddled close by his side with her head resting on his shoulder.
The party-goers seemed to notice something was wrong, and the music stopped. The low sound of troubled and uncertain conversations filled the air until Marel Vand stood up and cleared his throat as he dabbed at his eyes.
"Guests. Tragedy has befallen my family. My sons," the Count's voice cracked, "Are dead."
A stunned silence fell across the room and Aerith stood by her father's side, with a somber look upon her face. For once, she felt a soft pang of guilt in her heart. It was a shame it had ended this way.
But she'd had no choice.
It made Aerith despair of him ever dying and vacating his title. Mentally she rebuked herself for the thought. He was now the only living blood relative she had, and as much as she lusted for the title Countess, she was loath to give up her own father.
There was a limit to her ambition, for the moment at least. A sense of decorum held her at bay. Patience would provide for Aerith Vand, would see that her needs were met in good time. All she had to do was wait and things would go her way now, there was no one between her and her inheritance. What was rightfully hers was now legally hers.
Time slipped by, and the pale aristocrat found herself impatient. What was taking the constabulary so long? She resisted the urge to glance at the ornate clock on the wall, instead contenting to wait for the hourly toll of the clocktower's bell. She was near the balcony when it rang out midnight, and just as she was about to comment on the absence of her brothers, a unformed man walked in through the main door, scanning the crowd.
He found the Count and whispered something to him, and the smile faded from his face. He whispered something back, and the conversation continued, Marel Vand's face sinking lower and lower as it happened.
Finally he sank into a chair and covered his eyes, and Aerith made her move.
"What is it father? What's wrong?" She asked as she held on to his hand with slender white fingers.
The Count didn't answer, so the constable leaned down.
"There was an accident Lady Vand, your brothers have both been killed."
"No, that's not possible. You must have made some kind of mistake." Aerith's voice was well-practiced, the precise reaction of shock and disbelief she'd labored to perfect before a mirror for two full weeks.
"I'm sorry milady, but there's been no mistake. The DNA is a match."
Aerith forced her eyes to tear up, and she 'cried' softly for a few minutes before sitting beside her father, huddled close by his side with her head resting on his shoulder.
The party-goers seemed to notice something was wrong, and the music stopped. The low sound of troubled and uncertain conversations filled the air until Marel Vand stood up and cleared his throat as he dabbed at his eyes.
"Guests. Tragedy has befallen my family. My sons," the Count's voice cracked, "Are dead."
A stunned silence fell across the room and Aerith stood by her father's side, with a somber look upon her face. For once, she felt a soft pang of guilt in her heart. It was a shame it had ended this way.
But she'd had no choice.