daydream

[Tenyjah Villette]

Tenyjah had slipped into the Chevalerie tapestry quite well now. Her quirks and animations still caused a jilt here and there, but for the most part, the congressional little family had gotten used to her. She too had begun to grasp a certain level of freedom that, in her earlier months with them, she would have burst into tears over her inability to comprehend such concepts as, sitting out int he garden with a book, for the simple want of doing so.

The issue with Tenyjah was always want versus need. She herself could not discern her own, and so the needs of others became her wants and, not to say that over time this reflex had gone the way of the Do Do, but those around her had accepted this.

Teny was still a quiet nervous thing, rarely seen outside the safety of the Chevalerie grounds, wherever they were housed from one whim to the next, b she could be caught every now and then, tucked away int he library, sitting by the window, looking out with such a quixotic expression, one would wonder if her mind had gone on a leisure stroll and left the confines of her body, silent poised like a misplaced garden statue.

Just now, after all her chores had been tended to[ as always], she had found a small pocket of time to await the kitchen bell that would signify afternoon tea. Adele had taken kindly to her and would ring the bell, not for the service but for a chimed reminder for Teny that the kitchens were again busy and she could join them for the preparations.

She had not yet heard word from Lucien or the others if she should snack on anything in particular, and this was still a slight problem, for if she was not told to enjoy a proffered treat, Teny would and could go the entire day without a meal, and each time Araziel, being of culinary mind, was made aware of this, it was as if the world had stopped.

Tenyjah simply had a way about her, where her own senses were not made tangible until another guided her towards them. Very rarely would she wander to the kitchens for her own gain, but perhaps this now, her sitting in the library, was evidence of the baby steps that would perhaps flower into other wanderings.

Dressed in a simple gown of mauve, her hair pinned up, in a gathering of near perfect curls, her doe eyes took in the setting of the sun over the expanse of the family land that she had always supposed was the entire world. It amazed her to think that there should be other places beyond this place. It was so big, so vast, sometimes she would have to stop and literally take a breath, hand on her clamouring chest, to realize there was more world out there.

She still did not grasp that reality, nor did she enjoy going out much. They always stared, others who approached her seemed to always speak in a lilt as if they would enter conversation with her chaperone, towards her price of sale, a barter to have her change hands. Vespera had told her it was possible.

Vespera had told her that there were many girls as she, sold from hand to hand, man to man and that should the family ever get bored of her, she would be sent to such organizations, and she would have a horrible time since her own homeland was eviscerated, and anyone who could even pose as blood relation to her, was dead.

Vespera had always reminded her of this, ending it with an offer, that should Tenyjah choose death over slavetrade, that Vespera would do it for her, drain her of her blood in the least painful way possible. Vespera said she loved her, Vespera said she was always looking out for her.
They all were. Teny could not understand the want to look out for her security, she was still just an implement of property was she not? Why was it so important that she be out in the world, should she not stay here, be here? She was always so baffled when Araziel asked her what she wanted to do. If Jean were around he would sigh heavily and keep about his doings. Jean had yet to warm up to her, though she had been told that this is what he was capable of, in the milieu of being amicable. She still found herself apologizing profusely to him whenever they had been paired for a task. This pairing was rare though.

Tenyjah sat amazingly still and remained serene admiring the wonder of the sunset, how the burnt orange sky seemed to affect even the trees, as if the earth itself were giving a long leisure sight of comfort. This ease stretched its unseen embrace to Teny as evidence by the slow and subtle drop of her shoulders.

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

Lucien was in one of those phases again when he seemed to suffer from particularly incessant bouts of nightmares or premonitions (or both). Naturally, the taxing burden of it all led him to withdraw somewhat, at least mentally. The household knew its residents well, however, and therefore it was no different that they knew to leave Lucien be when he locked himself up in the study for days on end; or wandered aimlessly about the hallways, acknowledging no one, as if he didn't even notice that they were there.

Today, it seemed to be more of the latter. Around midday, he had finally emerged from his study, toting his violin and journal at his side. He'd trudged out of the house and into the gardens, walking in a straight line, his steps carrying him farther and farther from the house until he was hardly a speck in the distance, if one were to look out on the grounds. There, he found the shade of a particularly large willow, settled against the base of it, and kept himself company with the violin.

At some point he stopped to fish his pocketwatch out of his pocket, but he didn't seem to be interested in the time. He stared unseeingly at the device, his fingertips absently circling the face of the delicately crafted mechanism. Then he turned it over, his fingertips running over the embossed letters of his name.

A soundless sigh escaped him, and he replaced the watch in his pocket, but then on second thought, set it on the ground beside him, and then returned to playing his violin.

Once the sun began to descend, Lucien scooped up his watch again, tucked it away, and then began to meander back towards the house, toting his instrument at his side. His gaze was on the ground, his eyes half-lidded. Even in the warm orange glow of the setting sun, his complexion was incredibly pale by contrast. He hadn't remembered to eat for the past few days, but he had lost his appetite and hadn't had any inclination to feed, not even with the succubi.

On his way back into the house, he nearly ran right over Tenyjah. He brushed past her, accidentally knocking her aside, and, startled, he blinked wide-eyed at her as if he couldn't understand who she was or what she was doing there. Eventually he mumbled a 'desolé,' bowing his head slightly and continuing on his way back to the study.

[Tenyjah Villette]

The tea bell had rung and Teny shook her head. It was odd that a word or even a shoulders shake would not dissuade her from her silent musings, but yet, that light tinkering bell, puled her back to the present. Pulling herself away from the window, she gathers some of her skirts to her. The dress actually needed a hem but, Araziel had tried to keep it long to anticipate a day when Tenyjah would not be so horrified by the nuance of shoes. Currently she bore nothing on her feet save for a small black stone anklet. Her toes pedicured and painted, thanks to a certain succubus who enjoyed the tiger print pattern on every second toe, barefeet she pads out of the library, glancing behind her to make sure all was as she had found it.

She barely had a moment to situate her own pace when she was barrelled over, she tumbled to her knees in a flourish of chiffon and lace. Her eyes had only to note the varnish of the instrument in his hands to know who it was. Lately Mistr Lucien had been in a deep introverted languish. Teny was not summoned, nor did he inquire towards her reading or lessons at the piano. Vespera had given her a few lessons here and there but, the musicality of the thing was for Lucien to impart.

Upon viewing the violin, she knew best to keep her eyes averted. Her own training had decreed a man under such a heavy silence could be unhinged by the slightest thing. She sat there on the floor, head bowed in her usual demure fashion, until he had muttered his apologies and started away from her, only within arms length, Luciens journal had slipped his hand, and he had barely even noticed.

“Monsieur.” she whispered, the words nearly swallowed as she warred with herself to pick it up and return it, or to find mister Jean to return the thing. Her feet barely made a trailing sound as she near scurried behind the vampire. She kept encroaching upon him, stuttering in her step, stopping, looking behind her as if she would turn away before continuing behind him again. It would seem her feet wanted very much to return the bound book to its owner, while Teny felt it best to leave the book for someone else who was more adept with dealing with Lucien in such a state, to return it.

Finally she had mustered up enough latent courage to stretch her arm out and lightly tap Luciens shoulder before he turned the corner to the study.

“Master Lucien...you dropped your...” her words trailed off, her head dropped some and she simply held out the book to him, adding to it a small apologetic curtsey.

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

Lucien had already been halfway through the door of his study when Tenyjah commanded his attention, and he hesitated, turning to her with the same bewildered expression. Hadn't she just been downstairs ? What was she doing here, now ? And why was she following him ?

He blinked at her, staring at her for a long, awkward moment, before his gaze dropped to the book she was holding. He took it from her, reluctantly, only because it seemed that that was the right thing to do; he didn't quite understand why she was giving it to him.

No words left him as he turned and drifted into his study, closing the door behind him. The moment he had taken the book from Tenyjah, it seemed he had forgotten that she was even there.

At any rate, not a few moments later, there was a presence behind Tenyjah. Of all people, it was Devereux; he was carrying a tray with a bowl of French onion soup and a small tea setting.

"Adele is in the kitchens looking for you," he grunted; those were perhaps the most words he would say that day, and, having fulfilled this quota, he promptly swept off, seeming to be heading towards Jean's room.

Adele was indeed in the kitchen, handing out tea services to everyone and delegating rooms and whatnot for the others to go to. When Tenyjah arrived, Adele sighed in relief, pushing a tray towards her too.

"There you are, dearie. I know that it's kind of a bother but ... could you try to make sure Lucien eats something? Even just a sandwich or two." She sighed. "I do wish Valentina were here ... she is the only one who knows how to remedy his spells. But in the meanwhile, I don't want anyone dropping dead from starvation. Not on my watch!" she fussed.

She came around the kitchen island to pick a stray bit of fluff out of Tenyjah's hair, before patting her on the shoulder. "Thank you kindly, darling."

[Tenyjah Villette]

The moment was awkward and heavy, made even moreso by Mister Devereaux eloquent speech since so many words from him could be labeled as such. Teny noted his clothes needed ironing, he always looked as if he had gotten dressed in a hurry, sometimes in the dark, or that he had spent days in the same outfit to which at times, would be truthful to surmize. Teny kept her head bowed so as to not linger on Mister Devereaux for long. Looking too long upon the scientist would dare to suggest a willing assistant in whatever project he had been wrapped up in, and as helpful as Teny was, Mister Deverauxs projects were always debatable on the subject of safety.

There was something of an elation that moved through Teny when the book was accepted and the audible footsteps and click of a closed door was heard. Lucien, in such a deep and silent mood was somewhat unnerving to Tenyjah, and perhaps on the same vein with the other servants in the house, and so when Adele had delegated to whom Tenyjah would attend, the girls glances at the other servants for some form of aid, was knocked off like a ball in a game of tennis. The others simply went about their business or, gave her an apologetic glance while Teny stood there, serving tray of sandwiches, cut into various standing roses, to accompany their rosy hue, in hand as Benoit placed the tea tray in the dumbwaiter.

Giving Adele her own small curtsey, the woman still busied cleaning counter top, checking teapots still had the centre of mind to placate Tenyjahs reflexes of servitude. “There's a good girl.” she says and gently ushers Teny towards her task.

Sandwiches, sugar, and honey adorned the tray on her arms as she carefully walked up the few steps to the trolly set near the door to the dumbwaiter. Teny had only to set the tray on the trolly, open the small cabinet in the hall, retrieve a small vintage and a wine glass before she pressed the tulip shaped button on the wall that would bring the dumbwaiter up a level, the varnished wood of the wall would slide aside to allow her to take the actual tea service and place that too on the trolly.

She had only to walk down the hall and yet she shuffled nervously gripping the trolly. In such a mood, Lucien never wanted to be bothered. Now Tenyjah too wished for the presence of Valentina, she was like magic for Lucien and somewhat of a buffer between the two. Still finding herself alone in the hall, she takes a deep breath and proceeds to Luciens retreat.

Swallowing hard, her heart not racing in pace but tense as it kept the metronome swing of her pulse, trying biologically to calm tense nerves, she slowly raises and arm and knocks lightly on the door.

“ Mister Lucien.” She whispers near the split of the door. She stands back a moment, allowing him the leisure, if he so felt it, to open the door. Seconds passed like weighted minutes, and tenyjah waited and braved through quite a moment before, fingers twitching with nerves, she turned the brass nob and opened the door.

His back was facing her and she was grateful for that much. She thrived on her quietude and wanted not to bring Lucien any more discomfort that her presence already gave him, evidenced by the dual encounter in the hall prior to attending to the tea and sandwiches Adele had delegated she serve. Knowing Lucien, on the lower tier of the trolly, Teny had also brought a bottle of wine. The girl had only wanted to set the service on the nearest offered surface in the room as quickly and quietly as she could.

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

It wasn't that Adele wanted to make poor Tenyjah suffer, by requesting that she attend to Lucien; she just knew that Tenyjah tended to have a calming effect on him, something that the others didn't quite have, or at least not to the same degree. Maybe it was the girl's silence, or attentiveness, or something else entirely, but whatever the case, Adele always had a good reason for her decisions.

Tenyjah's arrival at the study met no immediate response, however, and it was up to her to enter herself. When she did, Lucien indeed had his back to her; he was sitting at his desk, the violin, watch, and journal laid out over it, but he didn't seem to be paying attention to any of them. Quite the contrary, his gaze was fixed on the opposite wall; even though he was sitting upright, his posture proper as always, his mind was evidently still elsewhere, and it was for this reason that he didn't even budge when Tenyjah began to set things out.

Only when she had almost let something slip, and some of the china clattered loudly, did Lucien's gaze dart to her, blinking rapidly as if waking from a daze. Questioningly he watched her, his gaze now following her progress; perhaps this was worse than his zoning out, because at least that way Tenyjah was able to go about her business without pressure or interruption.

Still no words left him, his eyes continuing to follow her actions, glancing with disinterest over the tea and food. He still didn't seem to realize that it was meant for him, as he made no move to assist her or take any of it.

Eventually, he seemed to forget once more that she was even there. His gaze drifted from her as before, his fingertips straying over the violin. He blinked once; a stray tear trickled down his cheek, even though his expression remained unchanged.

It was strange how, in a house as full as theirs, one could still manage to be surrounded by such all-encompassing loneliness. A heavy melancholy hung about him, and if not careful, could be infectious.

[Tenyjah Villette]

She held in her gasp though her tripping heartbeat made no stranger of her nerves to have had Lucien look at her so.

“Pardon M-” he had turned away from her and the split second her eyes had caught his, she ssensed more than saw something amiss, yet she was unsure if it was of an encompassing mood or a thought he had been brooding on. Resuming setting the small table of tea and food, Tenyjah had stood by the table. Lucien had always been able to tell when she had finished fiddling with her chores, and he had come used to the fact that she would wait for instruction, or to either be dismissed but, neither had been granted her.

“Monsieur Lucien... Monsieur Lucien?” she stammers in a whispered silk of a tone. Again she waits, and still nothing. Stroking fingers against one another, a small nervous habit of hers, she slowly approaches the quiet charge. Adele had given the girl a task and despite her nervous discomfort under Luciens deep silence, Tenyjah was not one to let tasks fall to the wayside, wether comfort was ensured or not.

Standing behind him, again she lightly taps his shoulder. “Mister Lucien, the tea..your tea is prepared.”

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

There was still no reaction from Lucien when Tenyjah stammered, trying to gather his attention. Perhaps it would have been best if she had given up and left, but knowing that she wouldn't was probably the reason that Adele had sent her in the first place.

Finally, though, there was some sort of response when Tenyjah tapped the vampire on the shoulder. His gaze drifted to her, focusing on her for once instead of just blindly passing over her, and he blinked in confusion, his expression anxious as if he were afraid that she was there to bear some sort of bad news.

Then his gaze fell to the tea she had laid out, and again his brow knit as if he didn't understand why it was there. But after a moment, his expression softened, and he silently reached for the teacup, slowly pulling it over to him. He didn't drink from it though, just staring at it dumbly.

"Je n'ai pas soif," he mumbled, even though his fingertips still idly felt at the shape of the teacup's handle. He pushed the cup away, his hands resting upon the desktop, but then he seemed to catch sight of the wine, and his gaze lingered on it a moment longer than anything else, before he closed his eyes. The discoloration was heavy beneath them, and his lips were sallow, his usual signs of sleeplessness, which, though not typically as severe as this, were unfortunately not uncommon.

"I am tired," he intoned in a volume hardly above a whisper, his eyes remaining closed. "I am tired, but if I sleep, I will have nightmares. Yet in waking, I am plagued by my thoughts."

He folded his arms, shielding his hand over his eyes. "I only wish for my mind to be silent. I do not know for how much longer I can bear to listen to its perpetual cacophony." The last bit came out as more of a sob, and he rested his elbow back on the desk for support, his hand still over his eyes.

"The wine no longer helps me, at least not as it used to. I do not understand," he lamented, everything pouring out in a rush, as if his silence had simply been a dam on the verge of breaking. "Our bodies are immortal but my heart is still every bit human. And a heart is only supposed to bear the weight of one lifetime, not several ! How many more lifetimes will be demanded of me before I am allowed peace, Tenyjah? I do not ... I do not know if I can stand to witness yet another generation pass and leave us behind. I ... "

He stopped suddenly with a hiccup, suddenly weighed down by the same despairing silence as before, though this time the tears flowed more freely than a moment ago. Trembling, he reached for the wine, finally, placidly taking a gulp of it.

[Tenyjah Villette]

Even with bowed head and a dip to her own sparkling eyes, she had seen for an instance, the pain expressed in his words. She had never heard him so distressed, it touched her with suc pity as it was spoken with barely even any passionate intonation. Speech is made alive, a living unseen entity by the emotive infusions one gives their words, Lucien had barely anything infused in his speech, and this was underlined by the gulp taken from the bottle.

Tenyjah wanted to help him, she wanted to ease his melancholy, yet she felt her own words would fall short. Perhaps this would be the rare instance where Tenyjahs silence was a comfort to him. Without words, she moves beside him on the couch. Without words, she perches on its edge, without words she leans in pressing a light kiss to his temple before resting her head on his shoulder.

He was tired, he wanted thoughts to cease and perhaps, being so close to her, a being that though similar in makeup to his own, yet completely outside it would help. Perhaps he needed only a proximity to a human, soft, sweet smelling and compassionately attuned to his needs.

In this posture she remained, poised, breathing with him, allowing him the silence and offering him a change, not a cessation of things but, a change for his solitude, at least for the day, hoping this would help calm the tumultuous thoughts that she herself could not even fathom for one who had lived, seen and done so much.

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

Lucien was still, having lapsed back into silence after the short outburst, which was only broken by the occasional sniffle, and of course a sip of wine that was, as implied by his words, more out of habit than anything else.

At the same time, the wine was also a distraction, and that seemed to be the reason behind plenty of Lucien's habits: perpetually seeking a distraction. It certainly would explain his constant dallying with women, and the drinking himself into a stupor almost every evening, and the toying with feeding (which was often a combination of the former two things), such as with feeding Tenyjah honey before drinking from her. Anything, whether meaningless or not, anything to keep the mind occupied.

As such, when Tenyjah seated herself next to him, he didn't react, not until she rested her cheek upon his shoulder. Only then did he blink and look at her, but it was true; for once he was comforted by her silence instead of unnerved by it.

So they sat there in silence for several long moments, and at some point Lucien had closed his eyes again, breathing slowly, silently, at ease with Tenyjah's closeness. Eventually, though, he turned his head enough to nudge his nose against her temple, inhaling quietly, absorbing her scent. There was nothing insistent in the gesture; rather, it was soothing, really, as Lucien gently tucked some of Tenyjah's loose locks behind her ear, letting his fingers run absentmindedly through her hair.

Eventually he settled down again, leaning up against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed, while an arm slipped around Tenyjah's middle, drawing her closer, like an overgrown teddy bear.

[Tenyjah Villette]

He seemed tense at first, but the act was already done. Teny closed her eyes, inwardly bracing herself for the retaliation, but she too was met by unsolicited surprise. He did not resist her, he did not respond with a throat heavy grunt. She felt him adjust beneath her, his fingers embrace her, his lips brush the crown of her head.

They sat in this sweetheart pose for moments longer, the silence itself even calmed by the change in countenance Tenyjah provided the plagued musician. She adjusted slightly glancing at him, lulled back, his eyes closed, lips glistening from the draught of wine, and concern only blanketed the girl.

“Ma..Mister Lucien.” she whispers, settling back against him. “Please Mister Lucien, you must eat.”

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

Lucien's only initial response to Tenyjah's suggestion was to suck in a slow breath and let it out in a heavy, drawn out sigh. He'd emptied the wineglass quite quickly (though this was hardly anything new), and now his clawed fingertips drummed over the base of it in a whimsically musical string of chimes.

"J'ai pas soif," he mumbled, just as before, though his head remained resting against the back of the sofa, and his eyes were still shut. He seemed content to absorb Tenyjah's tranquility-inducing presence, but at the same time, perhaps to distract her mind from his feeding as much as to distract himself, he groped about for a change of subject.

"Tell me a story," he murmured dully, though his tone concealed a faint glimmer of childish hope, as if a story would bring respite to his fatigued self. "What have you done today? Tell me of your day ... of Jean-Michel's temperament today ... how is the new porter?"

Jean-Michel had recently hired a new porter, Guillame, as his sort of personal assistant to manage some of the more menial things like receiving visitors, delegating tasks, and generally being Jean-Michel's eyes and ears around the house. Unfortunately, Guillame, the timid, younger vampire, was rather clumsy and somewhat absentminded, always stammering when trying to relay messages to the Chevalerie members, getting lost in the house ... the list went on. He was obviously still getting a grasp on the position and learning who everyone was and how the household functioned (by no means was this an easy task), but ... he was trying to integrate into the dynamics of the staff. Admittedly it was amusing, seeing Jean-Michel barking orders at Guillame who for all intents and purposes appeared to be in his mid twenties.