Logs:Truth, Lies, and Harpers
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| RL Date: 22 October, 2014 |
| Who: Weylaughn, Yewlani |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Revelations are painful; also, Yewlani is crazy. |
| Where: Seven Echoes Hold |
| When: Day 10, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
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| "No." Weylaughn re-read the Harper's findings, then read it one more time to be absolutely sure. Just saying the word "No" did nothing to change the truth. His hands trembled, the letter rustled, and both things offended him deeply. He threw the letter to the ground, but it wasn't as cathartic as he'd hoped. It just sat there, a thing without pity in a moment when he needed some. He needed something. A drink. Yes. Except that wouldn't fix things, would it? Of course not. He looked at the letter again and held a foot over it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. "No." --- How many minutes passed? How many hours? He had read the letter so many times he'd memorized it and, yet, the words made no sense. Not any more. Weylaughn swallowed hard and forced himself to put it down - but not away. Mother was busy, of course. She always was. Especially lately, with her bluerider friend from Ista. She claimed she was giving him lessons in arbitration. He suspected - no. No, he knew otherwise. She was sleeping with the man. Pulhaun didn't care and that, of all things, baffled him. Confronting him would be ludicrous - a fool's errand that he wasn't fool enough to do. Weylaughn re-read the letter. Later. He would talk to her later. --- "Who was he?" "Who was who, dear?" Yewlani scarcely looked up from her books at the question. "Are you talking about the other Harper who was here or...?" "No." The word came out more sharply than Weylaughn intended and his mother's head shot up with a furrow of her fine brow. "No?" "No." "Do start making some sense, darling. I have work to do. I don't have time for these silly games of yours." "And I don't have time for yours, Mother." Weylaughn closed the distance between them and planted his hands on the desk. He leaned forward and she leaned back. In that moment, he caught a glimpse of a pendant he'd never seen on her before; a cobalt serpent that nestled itself in her cleavage. Troubling, that. No matter. "Who was my father? Truthfully?" One of her eyebrows lifted. "Lord Aughan, of course. Whatever is the matter with you, dear?" "You. You're what's the matter. Mother. The Harpers know. Do you understand? They can prove those letters were forged. All of them. Where did the money come from? Where did- how? Why? Who?" The questions tumbled headlong off his tongue, cutting each other into tiny little pieces. Her face went pale - and then it went red. "Are you accusing me of lying?" "No," he replied through gritted teeth. "The Harpers are saying you are a liar. There are reports, Mother. More than just their assessment of the letters - they looked into it. They investigated." "Lies. They're all liars." Her voice went cold and flat; her hands shook and her eyes narrowed. "They'll probably tell you it was that terrible brownrider from the 'Reaches that sired you." "Who?" Bewilderment briefly overtook burgeoning rage. "N'yuu or Y'nu or somesuch nonsense," Yewlani flapped a hand as if dismissing the very thought. "He tried. Oh, how he tried, my dear, but no. I resisted him. I had to. In order to get to your father, I-" Weylaughn seized her by the shoulders to give her a firm shake and she yelped. "Is that my true father, Mother? Y'nu?" "NEVER!" Yewlani howled and wrenched herself from his grip. "And you will mind your tongue, you idiot child! I gave you everything I ever could and this! This is how you repay me? You call me a liar and a slut?! I was NEVER a whore, you wretch! Not EVER!" "I- I didn't," but it was too late. She was fully in her rage and Weylaughn could only retreat, his eyes wide and horrified. Yewlani was throwing things and rambling, her voice pitched into an ear-splitting shriek. She flung herself at him, nails flashing, and it was only the timely arrival of the Istan that spared him. At least the man had the decency to properly do up his trousers, even if he neglected his shirt. Where he took her, Weylaughn didn't know - or care. The door slammed shut in their wake and he sank to the floor. His eyes were burning and there was a bottle of wine calling his name and by Faranth, he was going to take care of both. |
Comments
Azaylia (19:46, 22 October 2014 (EDT)) said...
...well then! Yewlani's reaction was all too telling, I bet. I still love how clearly I can visualize things in your vignettes. Poor Weylaughn. Too many realizations all at once-- especially Mr. Istan. Doesn't fit with his mother's chaste story, does it? Such a good read!
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