» / Prose/ Horror/ Portion of a Portrait/ Safari/
| The world never ceased to change, as cities, states and even nations expanded only to crumble from under their own weight. In a sense, civilizations behaved much as did fire did, greedily consuming all that it could, even this chateau if given the opportunity. Fire when tamed and even controlled, could create tools of great significance and power, bettering society as the Greek and Roman states had done early in their history.
Yet it only took a few stray sparks to spread the fire like a pleasure, feasting on the draperies, carved wooden mouldings, carpets and furniture until all that remained were the skeletal remains of the bare foundations. This path of destruction seemed inevitable, as could be seen countless times in history; all it took was one singular individual, that Nero, the spark needed to set the world ablaze in the fires of war. “You know?” He waited patiently for the speaker to continue with their statement. “You spend far too much time in front of that fire dear.” A familiar voice stated from behind him. He had as always been aware of her presence and even comforted by the company she provided even if he would never allow himself the weakness of outwardly showing it. “The fires remind me of my heritage… my past.” Not a wholly an unacceptable statement coming from this man and the beauty behind him knew it to be true. His past was still mostly a mystery to her, some aspects of which that even a companion of several years would not be privy to hearing first hand. There were rumours of course, moving about from circle to circle allowed her to hear many a grand theory, but never any actual evidence to back up what had been said. “Perhaps you are trying to dry out that mouldy past of yours.” The woman giggled as she dropped something onto his head, causing his eyes to roll upwards, seeing the lip of what probably would turn out to be a hat. Curiosity would not have the better of him, being sure that Evelyn would enlighten him on what was the symbolic nature of this latest phase of hers. “Instead of a small fire for which to dry them out…” She moved in much closer, her clothing seemed different, simply from how they sounded as Evelyn walked about. Leaning closer, he could hear her stretch as to reach his shoulders and then felt her arms around him before whispering into his ears. “We could enjoy this Parisian winter by spending it somewhere else?” The bait was set, he thought, wondering just what this woman meant by such a statement and then felt the woman push herself off only to prance around behind him as thought a child exited about her first trip. “No no my dear.” Evelyn giggled before continuing. “I am not referring to your ancestral home in the Alpes either.” “I took the liberty of booking us passage on a steamer ship headed for London.” Evelyn was quick with her statements, allowing him very little time to interrupt; this was part of her overall style and one that he taught her early on to use when wishing to gain favour or push her will onto another. “From there we will board another ship that will take us past the Cape of Despair!” Now his curiosity was sufficiently peaked, leading him to turn around and look onto this woman. There was Evelyn, having decided to do away with her habitual dresses and corsets. Instead, she wore on a pair of ankle-high leather boots with long socks, shorts, buttoned shirt with matching cream coat and topped (he assumed) with the same silly rounded cream coloured canvas hat, that sat on his own head. Evelyn smiled as only she could, something that had not been among his teachings over the years. He was mostly immune to it, knowing that this was all part of the act, a method of getting his attention and interest before asking him to pick up the bags on their way out. She had grown much over the years, moving beyond the filth of the streets she had grown up and flowered into something that demanded nothing less then respect from those close and fear from her enemies. Of course, there was always a way to counter such enthusiastic planning. “And what if I told you that we were staying here all winter?” He smirked, thinking that he had put this young woman into a corner and would see just how much she would be willing to loose in order to gain her way. Evelyn’s smile as expected began to fade, only to fall into a giggle. “Well darling, I already gave the hired help leave until our return, so I doubt you want to be seen dusting the home?” Marc was surprised on how easily he had been countered by this beauty, though youth was no longer should be a factor when dealing with her. This artist had gown much in the years with him, only now beginning to realize just how dangerous she could be. “Besides, who says I need you around me.” A deliberate play for his emotions, that would most probably have bruised many an ego. Dangerous were such games, when one did not know the exact reactions of their recipient. “The coachman can take my bags to the port and I am sure the captain of the ship would be more then willing to invite me to the captains table for the evening’s meal…” Marc clapped, followed by a well-practiced bow for his companion to witness. “You have outdone yourself young lady.” He used that descriptor as to poke a bit of fun at her, not giving her the time to react emotionally or verbally before continuing with his own reprisal. “So why has our favoured artist decided to take us into the land of lions, Cape buffalo and zebras?” Evelyn’s lovely eyes rolled up to the ceiling as she bit her lower lip as thought pondering on the list she had made up, looking utterly adorable in front of him all of which a well-planned visual effect. This would distract him long enough to give her time to think of a proper response while the other party was distracted. “Hmm.” A smile grew from a corner of her face, still inwardly pondering exactly what to say. “Now dear, an artist should not have to reveal all her secrets now should she?” She now looked straight at him, right into his eyes as though trying to peer into the essence of his very being. “Thought… I may have heard rumours of rare deposits of greenstone, green vedite and other lovely stones that would make lovely carving pieces.” “Besides, it would give you the opportunity to collect some rare weapons…” Evelyn voice trailed off as turned around facing the door and began to walk out the room. Her pace was extended as to show off her hips as she walked turning out to be an interesting side effect of not wearing an outlandishly large dress. “And be a dear. Pick up the bags at the door on your way out?” After which all he could hear after those words had been spoken were her causal giggles. “Well done milady.” He uttered in response, especially since he had not even been told precisely where he was going. * * * * Victoria looked upon the words that she had written, wondering exactly how this would fit together in her book. While the new point of view was refreshing, granting the reader a new view on both Evelyn and her suitor, it seemed out of place, as though something in the story simply did not make sense. The author laughed a bit at her description of Evelyn reminding her of old movies with King Kong or some sort of documentary on the Discovery Channel. Yet that seemed out of place for someone that existed in the time of the Sun King, as did her reference to the steamer ship. Clearly, this work was out of time, putting it a few centuries ahead of when her character had lived. The creak from the chair became audible as she leaned back, looking out into the fireplace to peer into the neglected fire. As it stood, she would not be able to use this story in her novel; it had to be changed, moulded to match the corresponding era… However, how would she go about doing this? Some of the references could be easily adapted, say the steamer to something like a Spanish galleon. Other aspects would be hard to adapt, the entire Safari dress that indicative of the early colonial history in Africa would not be commonplace in that century, making it difficult to explain. Would the readers care? Critics probably would, as they loved nothing more then idiosyncrasies in a storyline or the historical context to tear a novelist apart. It was their job, their reason to be and she would do the same in the courtroom had she continued with her parents chosen path. Turning her head to the clock and immediately standing from her chair as Victoria noticed that it was beginning to get late. Things needed to be done and her never-ending ponderings over this part of the story would not get resolved today. First, she would separate these pages from the rest and look upon then when the opportunity arose. Now, it was time to get to the store before it closed, she needed some supplies for the week. “Broth, chicken, onions…” Saying this aloud to help her remember what she would need to bring back before she got back home and while she hoped on one foot she managed to slip on her the remaining show. Having already started on this journey, Victoria hoped that it was with a bit of luck on the right foot. |
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