#lauriston larkspur

[ofshadowandsoul]

Character Relationships in Binaries

Lauriston Larkspur & Egan Shinnick

@lauriston-larkspur

[houselarkspur]

[fitzvaldyr]

The blind loyalty was entertaining. No real thought beyond fanatic faith and love. Such delusion was well worth my testing.

Gerald’s life would be spent more properly than ever before: in the service in Grenth’s most cold truths. The young fool spreading unfounded gossip in defiance of an oath he’d sworn before the altar of the Prince of Winter deserved no better than I’d offered him.

A clean death.. or my kindnesses.

No real comparison. After a half mark with me, he was eager to obey. Frantic to offer himself to our God truly, and go before Grenth Himself to prostrate and beg forgiveness.

I am extremely good at what I do.

The fury I coaxed out, the words of such total devotion that they ignored truths I knew full well were hiding just beneath the covers, so to speak.. the test had begun in truth.

“And what ought we to do with him?”

“Egan doesn't deserve this. He's a good man.”

Defending Egan with words offered to me, ignoring the simplicity of my question, and the invitation to defend his beloved in the truest sense. The words given for a reply to my question were no reply at all. I kept digging.

It’s what I do, after all. Dig until the true self is bared.

"He has to go! He can't be allowed to poison the others against Egan, he's worked so hard! I'll not allow him to spread these hateful lies!"

“If he goes, he'll go to Egan's enemies. What shall we do to him, Lauriston?”

The angry lordling didn’t see the prayers Gerald was mouthing on the grass, curled onto himself after the Larkspur’s savage kick and headbutt.

But I did.

Making his peace before death.

I will force each and every one who comes before me to gaze into his or her own worst self.

What happens afterward is, as always, his or her own choice.

[aethgar]

The higher that the monkey can climb The more he shows his tail Call no man happy 'til he dies There's no milk at the bottom of the pail

Anne was asleep. The interview had been a long one. A thorough one. A deep one, even. Her fears were easing and for some time to come, she would be simply ‘Anne.’ Fawn was retiring from active duty for a time. In truth, it seemed that to a large degree, she had already done so. The last secrets gleaned were of Shivan Rayne’s unholy golemancy.

And then this ugly business had arisen. I’d been angry when I first realized someone had tampered with her memory, and more annoyed after ‘Wit told me parts simply couldn’t be repaired.

I didn’t realize how completely it would upset her.

All because of that wretched priest. Why couldn’t the boy simply talk to her instead of hiring some blundering imbecile street mesmer? Clumsy!

God builds a church The devil builds a chapel Like the thistles that are growing 'round the trunk of the tree All the good in the world You can put inside a thimble And still have room for you and me

Egan Schinnick. Son of servants, disappointment to his father if the coin that was spent to dig and ask questions was spent properly. He’d vanished into the streets for a time, and re-appeared in the clergy of Grenth. An apparently complete conversion, and as with many who embraced piety, he embraced it to a fault.

If there's one thing you can say About Mankind There's nothing kind about man You can drive out nature with a pitchfork But it always comes roaring back again

The issue he had with the ranks of nobility was one extremely publicly known. The man made very little effort to hide his hatred, and confided in those who, like Lauriston Larkspur, were hardly skillful or consummate liars. The good Brother fought with the Larkspurs and denounced the Savilles. He derided the Volundir and was known for seeking the beds of any nobleborn male he could. Perhaps to try to ruin them? He’d hinted as much to Anne.

God tempers all the winds for the new shorn lambs the devil knows the bible like the back of his hand

Edward’s letter had been extremely detailed, with additional versions by others present when he’d confronted the priest after what seemed to the group in the Reach to be a possible threat against the Hudsons. Against Isabeau. Against my grandchild.

If there's one thing you can say About Mankind There's nothing kind about man You can drive out nature with a pitchfork But it always comes roaring back again

Personal and professional are hardly the same thing. But I applaud Edward for his caution. Given what is known about this petty, blundering priest, he could well make an error of that magnitude, though I think it highly unlikely. He seems to esteem those he imagines to be innocent, and at least temporarily exclude them from his vengeful pretensions.

Truly, I can think of few worse suited to running any sort of network of subtlety, unless it might be the Larkspur boy. I cast my mind back to the priest demanding to see my face and I have to wonder at his assumption that honesty comes naturally to spies and killers.

As well. The clergy really aren’t well suited for this work. Their training goes to certain strictures and habits which often run in direct contradiction to the lies which are essential to subterfuge. I well recall my brief stint among their number during my own earliest training. Periodically I wonder what my life might have been like had I enjoyed my novitiate.

I would always prefer to see an error on the side of caution when it concerns Valdyri blood, and the life of my daughter and my grandchild, of course. Of such small mistakes can destruction arise, and I prefer always to avoid that sort of escalation.

For want of a bird The sky was lost For want of a nail A shoe was lost For want of a life A knife was lost For want of a toy A child was lost

I think the good brother should maintain his little ring of spies. For now, they are doing no grave harm. If any of my agents are disrupted again, I think an important lesson may need to be taught about certain outreach services by the clergy, but I simply don’t think the lad would be so foolish twice.

Misery's the River of the World Everybody Row! Everybody Row! Misery's the River of the World Misery's the River of the World Misery's the River of the World Everybody Row! Everybody Row! Everybody Row!

[ofshadowandsoul]

[ofshadowandsoul]

Just come and get it, let them say what they say. Cuz I’m about to put them all away.

Focus on me.