Hrard picked up the Wabbajack as she held it out for him, eyeing her curiously.
"My Listener," Lucien began, "if you would allow me, I would like to stay and talk to the Mad God."
"You come back quoting Cicero and I swear to Sithis I will Fus Ro Dah you off a cliff," Hrard warned.
"Duly noted, Listener," Lucien replied, and sat down at the table.
Hrard rolled his eyes and walked away.
"Ann Marie," Lucien began softly, and the woman's blind eyes flicked to him.
"I warned yer, did I not?" she began in a soft, threatening voice.
"Silencer," was all he said, and Sheogorath froze.
"Well now," she said after an uncomfortable silence, "this is interesting. Here's me, having tea with Pelly, when a Dragonborn turns up and interrupts! Then it turns out he's only dragging around my dead superior!"
She pointed a pale finger at him. "Where've you been for the last two hundred years, eh? Never dropped in once for tea! Damned rude!" She slammed her hands down on the table. "And even after all that severed head business! I thought I was yer Wabbajack in a million, Lucien!"
She broke down with noisy sobs, as the ghost leaned across the table towards her. She pulled her head up, smiling brightly.
"'Course, you were a little maggoty after that business with Arquen," she continued cheerfully, "so I guess I'll let you off but ONLY!" And here, her arm swung out and grabbed something off of the table, before she brought it up and held it in front of him.
"ONLY if yer try the torte!"
Lucien coughed as an awkward silence fell. Then he reached out and took a slice of torte and put it in his mouth.
"Strawberry," he commented as he chewed.
"Haskill must have spent hours on it!" she sighed grandly. "What a good, obedient fellow Haskill is!"
Lucien stopped chewing.
"Haskill?" he asked.
"Ah!" she said, almost recalling. "My steward! LOVES being summoned! Or does he? I can't remember." She suddenly thrust an apple at him. "You always liked apples! So did I! They always tasted good while poisoned!"
Lucien watched what was once his Silencer flail around like...well...a madwoman. She was not the Ann Marie he remembered, the little Breton with the smirk and the flashing eyes and the dextrous hands. Something deep inside him couldn't bear to see her this way.
Which was why he reached across the table and grabbed her chin in his spectral hand, pulling her towards him and kissing her.
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timeasmymeasure
The Time of the Torte 2/?
Date: 2012-09-14 06:14 pm (UTC)"My Listener," Lucien began, "if you would allow me, I would like to stay and talk to the Mad God."
"You come back quoting Cicero and I swear to Sithis I will Fus Ro Dah you off a cliff," Hrard warned.
"Duly noted, Listener," Lucien replied, and sat down at the table.
Hrard rolled his eyes and walked away.
"Ann Marie," Lucien began softly, and the woman's blind eyes flicked to him.
"I warned yer, did I not?" she began in a soft, threatening voice.
"Silencer," was all he said, and Sheogorath froze.
"Well now," she said after an uncomfortable silence, "this is interesting. Here's me, having tea with Pelly, when a Dragonborn turns up and interrupts! Then it turns out he's only dragging around my dead superior!"
She pointed a pale finger at him. "Where've you been for the last two hundred years, eh? Never dropped in once for tea! Damned rude!" She slammed her hands down on the table. "And even after all that severed head business! I thought I was yer Wabbajack in a million, Lucien!"
She broke down with noisy sobs, as the ghost leaned across the table towards her. She pulled her head up, smiling brightly.
"'Course, you were a little maggoty after that business with Arquen," she continued cheerfully, "so I guess I'll let you off but ONLY!" And here, her arm swung out and grabbed something off of the table, before she brought it up and held it in front of him.
"ONLY if yer try the torte!"
Lucien coughed as an awkward silence fell. Then he reached out and took a slice of torte and put it in his mouth.
"Strawberry," he commented as he chewed.
"Haskill must have spent hours on it!" she sighed grandly. "What a good, obedient fellow Haskill is!"
Lucien stopped chewing.
"Haskill?" he asked.
"Ah!" she said, almost recalling. "My steward! LOVES being summoned! Or does he? I can't remember." She suddenly thrust an apple at him. "You always liked apples! So did I! They always tasted good while poisoned!"
Lucien watched what was once his Silencer flail around like...well...a madwoman. She was not the Ann Marie he remembered, the little Breton with the smirk and the flashing eyes and the dextrous hands. Something deep inside him couldn't bear to see her this way.
Which was why he reached across the table and grabbed her chin in his spectral hand, pulling her towards him and kissing her.