Post by Tadhg on May 5, 2011 10:03:17 GMT -5
He's glaring at the pixie who is almost trembling in his want to serve the huntsman. The garlanger wrings his hands, the warning in the sidhe's eyes choking off his words mid-sentence, but his innate sense of duty obviously preventing him from leaving like Tadhg wishes. The pixie opens his mouth to say something more, a nervous sweat sheening his face but the formidable way the enormous Scotsman is leaning in, daring his tongue to form the words has him gapping in fear and he whimpers.
With a sigh, Tadhg takes pity on him and gestures half-heartedly to the great golden bird perched on a tall backed embroidered chair a little ways down the hall. "She'd probably like a wee bit to eat if yeh must do somethin'," he yields, waving off the pixie for at least the fifth time. With a visible sigh of relief, the servant sinks into a mitigated bow and scurries down the corridor in the direction of the kitchens, Cyane taking wing gracefully behind him.
He watches them go, something between bewilderment and exasperation written on his handsome face. If he's honest, it's embarrassing to have another soul underfoot at all times desiring nothing more then to answer his every beckon call. Tadhg has been self reliant as long as he can remember. He's been worshiped, been cared for and fawned over. But to have another faerie prostate themselves in voluntary slavery - it makes him uncomfortable at every level. He finds tugging at the neck of his tunic, (a bad habit he's developed when his mind is uneasy) and wishing he'd just stayed in the damn forest tonight.
He waits in the corridor, preferring the spaces with openings to the outside world rather then biding time in Annette's elaborate halls and ballrooms. The air is less thick here, the perfume more natural and less rank with deceitful intentions and elusive niceties. As short a time as he's been here, Tadhg is already pining for the mossy knolls and thick cover of the oaks. He parts one of the transparent chiffon curtains draping from an arched doorway and peers wistful to the west, where the dim silver light of the eclipse just barely highlights the treetops that surround the river. The woods themselves are dark and inviting, no light to be seen since the Seelie rarely venture so far into uninhabitable territory. He calls it home though and begins to get antsy waiting for his queen within the confines of the palace, however overly enchanted to resemble nature it may be.
He's quick to recognize her lack of footsteps and rustle of fabric and turns to flash her a small, but genuine smile, relaxing a fraction as her presence surrounds her. "Yer staff is so well trained, My Lady, I hardly dare move for fear they might take it as a sign to pounce," he says teasingly, reaching for her hand to lay his lips upon white fingers as has become his custom of respect. He is long since hardwired in his older traditions but somehow he doesn't think Annette minds terribly.
"If I have stolen you away from another commitment, I am only half sorry," he continues with another smile, sadder this time as if he regrets what he's about to say. "But the woods are whispering and I prefer to hear news from yer lips over theirs. The trees muddle their messages so that when they reach me, I cannae understand them to save my life." He keeps his tone light, his hand in hers gentle and congenial. Tadhg is wise enough to know that dark situations must be dealt with a delicate sort of honesty and he has spent too many years in the persona of a gentleman, however dirty and rugged his outward appearance may be, to delegate talks with the Queen in any other fashion.
"The talk among the Seelie is exactly the opposite from what I can gather - there is nothing to talk about. And it is no' sitting well. Perhaps tis what sets me ill at ease, Highness. A people who remain in the dark concerning a dire situation they are a part of through, choice or no, are hesitant to rally around anyone or anything when the time calls for it. Even you. I wondered if yeh might walk with me and indulge an old man his late night trepidations so that he may strive to do his job better. And mayhap let yer court sleep soundly once again."
With a sigh, Tadhg takes pity on him and gestures half-heartedly to the great golden bird perched on a tall backed embroidered chair a little ways down the hall. "She'd probably like a wee bit to eat if yeh must do somethin'," he yields, waving off the pixie for at least the fifth time. With a visible sigh of relief, the servant sinks into a mitigated bow and scurries down the corridor in the direction of the kitchens, Cyane taking wing gracefully behind him.
He watches them go, something between bewilderment and exasperation written on his handsome face. If he's honest, it's embarrassing to have another soul underfoot at all times desiring nothing more then to answer his every beckon call. Tadhg has been self reliant as long as he can remember. He's been worshiped, been cared for and fawned over. But to have another faerie prostate themselves in voluntary slavery - it makes him uncomfortable at every level. He finds tugging at the neck of his tunic, (a bad habit he's developed when his mind is uneasy) and wishing he'd just stayed in the damn forest tonight.
He waits in the corridor, preferring the spaces with openings to the outside world rather then biding time in Annette's elaborate halls and ballrooms. The air is less thick here, the perfume more natural and less rank with deceitful intentions and elusive niceties. As short a time as he's been here, Tadhg is already pining for the mossy knolls and thick cover of the oaks. He parts one of the transparent chiffon curtains draping from an arched doorway and peers wistful to the west, where the dim silver light of the eclipse just barely highlights the treetops that surround the river. The woods themselves are dark and inviting, no light to be seen since the Seelie rarely venture so far into uninhabitable territory. He calls it home though and begins to get antsy waiting for his queen within the confines of the palace, however overly enchanted to resemble nature it may be.
He's quick to recognize her lack of footsteps and rustle of fabric and turns to flash her a small, but genuine smile, relaxing a fraction as her presence surrounds her. "Yer staff is so well trained, My Lady, I hardly dare move for fear they might take it as a sign to pounce," he says teasingly, reaching for her hand to lay his lips upon white fingers as has become his custom of respect. He is long since hardwired in his older traditions but somehow he doesn't think Annette minds terribly.
"If I have stolen you away from another commitment, I am only half sorry," he continues with another smile, sadder this time as if he regrets what he's about to say. "But the woods are whispering and I prefer to hear news from yer lips over theirs. The trees muddle their messages so that when they reach me, I cannae understand them to save my life." He keeps his tone light, his hand in hers gentle and congenial. Tadhg is wise enough to know that dark situations must be dealt with a delicate sort of honesty and he has spent too many years in the persona of a gentleman, however dirty and rugged his outward appearance may be, to delegate talks with the Queen in any other fashion.
"The talk among the Seelie is exactly the opposite from what I can gather - there is nothing to talk about. And it is no' sitting well. Perhaps tis what sets me ill at ease, Highness. A people who remain in the dark concerning a dire situation they are a part of through, choice or no, are hesitant to rally around anyone or anything when the time calls for it. Even you. I wondered if yeh might walk with me and indulge an old man his late night trepidations so that he may strive to do his job better. And mayhap let yer court sleep soundly once again."
