Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,
Sythyry
sythyry

Casa Belweldie, part 1 [26 Thory 4261]

Hispis:"Ysgwyd! Apologize to Lord Sythyry at once!"

She used a title which I suppose I'm entitled to, as Hezimikkinen's half-sib, but one which really suggests that I'm trying to be a major political force in Vheshrame, which I am most certainly not. It's the sort of title that one might have if one were trying to emphasize that one would make an excellent lord-minister of something or other.

Ysgwyd:"Mother dear, I do believe you're getting the etiquette a bit backwards. Ordinarily it's the adulterer who ought to apologize to the wronged wife."

Hispis:"Wronged? Wronged? How can you say 'wronged', after all you've done to him!"

Ysgwyd:"I've done him just exactly as much as he's wanted me to do him."

The two of them went at it like Sangaar and Vestrixuu. [An invulnerable golem and an endlessly-regenerating three-headed turtle-dragon stuck in a pocket universe at the end of a somewhat obscure but importantly classic adventure story based very loosely on something real. -bb] I excused myself on the basis of a certain personal urgency -- I had, after all, been drinking tea for the last hour and more -- and took rather longer than strictly necessary.

When I finally decided that I couldn't responsibly stay any longer without claiming illness ... and had pretty much decided to claim illness ... I heard Ilottat's voice from outside. So, I coolly and collectedly snarked forth from the lavatory and leapt upon him and embraced him in arms and legs and wings and tail and neck.

He fainted from embarrassment.

Hispis and Thaura called the servants over -- by the wrong names -- and got brandy for Lord Ilottat. I don't think he's generally called "Lord" either.

He was brandied back to consciousness -- which is not how brandy usually works -- and apologized a great deal for being late. He had, evidently, taken a wrong turn, and wound up walking a great distance expecting to see the Slorennly Tower any minute, and, when he realized his error, went into a wild rush and slipped into a trench and ruined his clothes and had to zoom back home to change. We all forgave him.

Ysgwyd:"Hi there, huzzy-bump. Sounds like you've been keeping your bed warm your favorite way!"

Ilottat:"Noswaith da, good evening, my honored wife."

Ysgwyd:"And my mothers tugged me back home to meet zir. So, hi there, Sythyry. Is Ilottat a good lover? I wouldn't know."

Me:"Hello, Ysgwyd ... well ... I ... "

Ysgwyd:"Oh, don't fuss yourself about it. I don't really care -- he's certainly not my type."

Ilottat:"I am desolée, sorry, to displease you, my lady wife."

Ysgwyd:"No, you're not, and I'm not day-so-lay that I displease you either, but that's OK, I can get night-so-laid by someone I do like, and besides you're pretty sweet for an Orren. Don't you agree, Sythyry?"

It hardly seemed like the place to disagree. It was even true. I had, perhaps, been a bit upset before he got there, but now that he was all there and safe and everything ... I think I said something intelligible.

Ysgwyd:"So, is a real one better than a hooker with a shifty-spell?"

Ilottat:"My lady wife, I do beg of you parler, to speak of more polite things."

Ysgwyd:"In my own home? To my own mother and stepmother? After what they did to my father, to say nothing of you and me? If they can't take the truth about us by now, then fuck 'em. Except, well, I guess that's Sythyry's job. Zie's the only one of us who actually likes fucking Orren."

The Belweldies were utterly aghast. For that matter, so were Ilottat and I.

Then a breathy voice from nowhere said, "I like ... an Orren ... too." The speaker dropped his Veil, and then the true horror of the evening began.

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