Post by Quakerlol on Jan 16, 2012 9:14:50 GMT -6
((So TECHNICALLY this is non-canon, but if I had to put it in the canon hsbound timeline I would place it at the end of sophomore year. Lerena and Isaard know each other by sight, but they haven't had any classes together or anything. ))
It was a waste of another Wednesday evening. Lerena had already finished her homework, easy as it was, and so she was sitting, bored, in the waiting room reading Troll Jane Austen. Her mother, the regional representative for the Betty Crocker Corporation, was attending a meeting of the board of the directors of the college. BCCorp was, of course, a large sponsor of the college, and without its generous grants the university would not be able to teach nearly as many students. This meant, naturally, that her mother had considerable sway. Lerena was attempting to ignore the buzz of conversation coming from behind the door and focus on her novel. She slouched in her chair.
Nearby, a few seats away, sat Isaard. His father, as the dean of the theoretical science department, had to attend all sorts of these boring meetings. Normally Isaard would have been left at home to be watched by his lusus, but Mantadad was sick and so Isaard had to come along. A thick book was spread across his lap.
A voice was raised inside the conference room. Lerena smiled, recognizing it as her mother's. Whenever her mother raised her voice, it usually meant that someone was going to pay. Isaard made an audible grunt at this and turned up his iGrub to block out the noise. Subdued electric guitars could clearly be heard from Lerena's seat. She frowned.
"Excuze me," she said, turning to Isaard, "Would you mind turning that down?" Isaard didn't respond. He remained totally absorbed in his book, nodding his head slightly to the beat of the music that was now grating on Lerena's nerves. She sighed and got up, placing her book neatly on her seat. She walked over to Isaard and tapped him on the shoulder. She smiled politely. "Excuze me, but would you mind turning that down?"
Isaard looked up. He took out his headphones. "S(..)rry, what was that?"
Lerena's smile strained a little. "Could you pleaze turn that down, I can hear it from where I'm zitting."
Isaard blinked. "(..)h, s(..)rry ab(..)ut that." He turned the volume down. "I was trying t(..) dr(..)wn (..)ut whichever ann(..)ying speaker they have up there n(..)w."
Lerena's smile lost a couple of teeth. "That annoying zpeaker iz my mother."
Isaard turned back to his book. "My c(..)nd(..)lences then."
The smile dropped from Lerena's face altogether. "Do pleaze take that back," she calmly requested.
"H(..)w?" Isaard asked, still not looking at her. "(..)nce I state my (..)pini(..)ns I can't change what I've said"
"You could look up from your dumb book and apologize." Lerena said mock-politely. "That would certainly help."
Isaard looked up from his book begrudgingly. "Fine, I am deeply s(..)rry that she is y(..)ur m(..)ther." He looked back at his book.
Lerena's face flushed slightly, angry. "That iz not at all what I meant and you know it! Now apologize."
Isaard refused to look up. "(..)k, h(..)w ab(..)ut, 'I am s(..)rry that I p(..)inted (..)ut what a terribly b(..)ring speaker y(..)ur m(..)ther is.'"
In response Lerena put her hand over the book, covering up the page that Isaard was trying to read. Her nail polish matched her blood perfectly. "Why are you being zo rude?" she demanded. "All I azked for waz a zimple apology."
Isaard sighed in exasperation. "Well, I menti(..)ned that I am b(..)red (..)ut (..)f my mind, c(..)rrect?"
"No. That haz nothing to do with anything."
He looked down at her hand. "By the by," he asked, "why d(..) y(..)u chew y(..)ur nails?"
"Excuze me?"
"Y(..)ur nails, they are chewed, why?"
Lerena was momentarily confused. "What in the world are you talking about?" She took her hand off the page and examined it, looking for any possible sign of a hangnail or something of that nature. "I do not chew my nailz!"
Isaard smiled slightly. "Ah, thank y(..)u f(..)r rem(..)ving y(..)ur hand fr(..)m my reading." He returned to his book.
Lerena scowled and snatched the book, holding it just out of Isaard's reach. "You are being exceedingly rude!"
Isaard looked up, a little peeved. "N(..)w that was rude."
"Oh, pardon me." Lerena's tone was positively dripping with sarcasm. "Now I would love for you to tell me why you are being zo rude."
Isaard noted her sarcasm and decided not to play that game, instead responding comepletely straight. "Give me my b(..)(..)k back and all is f(..)rgiven."
Lerena pretended to think about it. She flipped the book over, deliberately losing Isaard's place and glancing at the title. When she read it she had to suppress a laugh. "Troll Lord of the Ringz?" she asked, amused. "Really? You're reading fairy talez?"
"I prefer the term Speculative ficti(..)n, but whatever." He was slightly annoyed by her flagrant disregard for his book.
Lerena smirked. "Well izn't that adorable." She adopted the tone one would use to talk to a small child having difficulty grasping the idea that two and two make four. "Don't tell me you enjoy thiz tripe."
Isaard's brows furrowed. "Well since y(..)u apear t(..) be s(..) cl(..)se-minded, what are y(..)u reading? Tr(..)ll Twilight?"
Lerena had to stop herself from taking a step back in shock. "I would never read anything like that!" Her face betrayed her contempt. She adopted a superior tone. "If you muzt know I am reading Troll Jane Auzten."
Isaard rolled his eyes. "S(..) basically the same thing."
"What."
He sighed. "Tw(..) idi(..)ts c(..)mplain and whine f(..)r the length (..)f the b(..)(..)k and then realize that there was n(..)thing t(..) c(..)mplain ab(..)ut."
"That iz abzolutely not what happenz!" Lerena's mouth twitched downward. "Clearly you have never read thiz great piece of clazzical troll literature, and have inztead been cluttering up your mind with thiz foolizhnezz." She held Isaard's book like it was a dirty rag and suppressed a grimace.
He shrugged. "Eh, true (..)n the n(..)t having read it part, but all in all r(..)mance isn't my thing."
"Hmph." Lerena frowned. "And you call me cloze-minded."
"It's just part (..)f my literary phil(..)s(..)phy."
"Ooooh, you have a philozphy." Her tone returned to the talking-to-an-idiot cadence. "How imprezzive."
"Yes. H(..)wever, I can already sp(..)t a an issue with y(..)ur b(..)(..)k just by l(..)(..)king at it."
"Oh really," she responded sarcastically. "Pleaze, enlighten me."
Isaard was very angry by this point. "It's (..)n fire."
"What?" The sound of paper catching fire hit Lerena's auricular sponge clots. "WHAT?!"
She turned around and ran over to it, tossing Isaard's book aside. He snatched it out of the air. Lerena had no idea what to do. She knew that she should put out the fire, but the heat was too frightening for her. Seadwellers have an inherent terror of fire, and indeed it was one of the few successful weapons used in any lowblood uprising. The fire was mysteriously contained to the book, and only singed the chair. The book turned to ashes before her eyes. She angrily turned back to Isaard, her eyes stinging from the heat.
"WHAT DID YOU DO."
His face remained completely straight. "Lit it (..)n fire with magic."
The blood rose to Lerena's face in anger, turning her a violent shade of purple. "Magic." She spat the word out like a curse. "Really."
He smirked. "N(..), n(..)t really I have a lighter and I'm just that fast."
"I waz watching you the entire time, now tell me what the hell you did." She gritted her teeth.
His tone was still one hundred percent straight. "I have a trained team (..)f ars(..)nist squeak beasts that I carry with me where ever I g(..)."
Fists clenched at Lerena's sides. Her bright purple nails dug into her palms. The smirk on Isaard's face evolved into a grin. Lerena could not stand that smile. "Why. Did you. Zet my book. On fire."
The grin widened. "Well, the squeak beasts get restless if they d(..)n't light s(..)mething up every (..)nce in a while."
"Pleaze ztop fucking around and tell me why."
"I just t(..)ld y(..)u why."
"Don't inzult my intelligence."
"Fine, is there any (..)ther aspect (..)f y(..)u that I sh(..)uld insult?"
Her fangs ground against each other. "What makez you think that you can talk to me thiz way?
"N(..)thing makes me think that." He narrowed his eyes. "I just d(..) it."
"You arrogant-" Lerena started loudly, then took a deep breath. She made a visible effort to remain calm. "Pleaze apologize for zetting my book on fire."
The grin did not disappear from Isaard's face. "(..)h s(..) are y(..)u saying that y(..)u believe in magic and/(..)r my pers(..)nal army (..)f ars(..)nist squeakbeasts?"
Lerena had to consciously keep her tone down. "No, that iz not what I am zaying in the leazt." She relaxed her fists. "It iz zimply obviouz that you zet my book on fire, and I do not know how, nor do I care." She looked calmly at Isaard. "Now apologize."
Isaard's grin was starting to drive her a little crazy. "Tell me h(..)w I c(..)mmited the crime first, and then I may ap(..)l(..)gize."
A muscle jumped in her eyelid. "You zaid it yourzelf, you have a lighter and you're zimply that fazt. That zeemz to be the eaziezt of your liez to zwallow."
Isaard put a hand on his chin, as if confused. "But wait, if I was lying, then that is n(..)t h(..)w I did it."
"I do not CARE." She had to make an effort to regain control of her tone. "Juzt apologize and I will leave you in peace." She took another deep breath and closed her eyes to calm down.
"I already gave y(..)u my terms f(..)r the ap(..)l(..)gy, either pr(..)ve that I c(..)mmited the act (..)r leave. Becuase if y(..)u can't pr(..)ve that I burned y(..)ur b(..)(..)k then it was simply a case (..)f sp(..)ntane(..)us c(..)mbusti(..)n, and I have n(..)thing t(..) ap(..)l(..)gise f(..)r."
The blood rushed back into Lerena's face. She took two strides forward and slapped Isaard, leaving a handprint across his face in bright blue. "Do not DARE uze that inzolent tone of voice with me," she demanded.
A creepy smile spread across Isaard's face. "Heheheheeheheeheheheheheheheeheh." Lerena stepped back a little, unnerved. The smile grew. "Tell me fishbl(..)(..)d, is this the way y(..)u always react t(..) n(..)t getting y(..)ur way?"
Her disconcertment was abruptly replaced by anger. "Fizhblood?"
"Answer the questi(..)n."
"Why would I EVER lizten to you?"
"Answer. The. Questi(..)n."
Lerena glared at him. "Yez," she haughtily responded. "Yez, thiz iz generally how I rezpond to inzolence, ezpecially of the unprovoked kind."
Lerena had not thought it possible that his smile could grow, but it did. "Well at least y(..)u're an h(..)nest fishbl(..)(..)d. I can't tell y(..)u h(..)w many (..)f y(..)ur kind try and defend their acti(..)ns."
"My kind?" Her voice rose in anger. "Excuze me?" The color showed no sign of draining from her face.
"I mean y(..)u w(..)uldn't beleive h(..)w many (..)f y(..)ur kind will tell y(..)u t(..) y(..)ur face that 'I'm n(..)t like that n(..)rmally,' (..)r that they're 'In c(..)mplete c(..)ntr(..)l'. It's nice t(..) finally meet (..)ne (..)f y(..)u wh(..) kn(..)ws that they are a h(..)rrible pers(..)n and is willing t(..) admit it."
"What?!" she shouted, then composed herself again. "Oh, I zee. You're one of thoze prejudiced baztardz, aren't you. One of the onez who thinkz that all zeadwellerz are the zame." She sighed. "Wonderful. It'z rare to find one who'z a blueblood, though. Zo congratz, you're bucking the ztereotype!" She clapped her hands together slowly three times.
He shrugged again. "(..)h I d(..)n't mean t(..) say that the bluebl(..)(..)ds are any better."
"Really." Lerena's eyebrow raised in disbelief. She folded her arms.
"(..)h yes, (..)nce y(..)u get past green, y(..)u're pretty much entering c(..)l(..)ssal prick terit(..)ry."
She did not quite know what to make of this. "You're certainly an odd one."
His grin shrank. "Y(..)u're certainly n(..)t the first t(..) say that."
"Oh, I don't doubt it." She gestured to the top of his head. "I'm zure your... interezting horn didn't help either."
Isaard's eye twitched. "My, aren't y(..)u the (..)bservant (..)ne?"
Lerena smirked, her purple lips curling upwards. "You don't have to be obzervant to notice that."
Isaard's eyebrows drew downward. "(..)h, are we g(..)ing with this cliche gr(..)up (..)f insults? I w(..)uld have h(..)ped that y(..)u w(..)uld be m(..)re creative."
Her eyes widened in mock affront. "Goodnezz, me? Inzult you? Never." She put a hand over her mouth in shock. "My my, why would I ever want to do that?"
"That is a g(..)(..)d p(..)int," he said. "By the by, I think that y(..)u are c(..)ming d(..)wn with s(..)mething."
"What." Lerena said, confused momentarily.
"Sp(..)ntane(..)us c(..)mbusti(..)n." He snapped his fingers, and she felt a burning sensation in her foot.
"Ow!" Lerena hopped around in a most undignified fashion. "Ow ow ow ow!" She only barely managed not to fall over. "Ow!!!" She sat down in the nearlest chair and held her throbbing foot. "What the glub WAZ that?"
"Magic," Isaard responded, amusement creeping back into his tone.
She shot him a seething glare. "That excuze iz getting more and more annoying by the zecond." She stood back up, her foot already back to normal.
"It's n(..)t an excuse if it is the truth."
"Hoofbeaztzhit." If looks could kill. "Tell me what you did."
He smiled. "I cast a simple fire spell (..)n the fl(..)(..)r where y(..)ur f(..)(..)t was." He pointed at a slightly singed spot on the carpet. Lerena refused to look.
"I thought I told you not to inzult my intelligence." She sneered. "You're not telling me you're deluzional enough to believe in magic"
"Y(..)u sh(..)uld put s(..)me ice (..)n that f(..)(..)t (..)f y(..)urs." The floor suddenly became extremely cold.
Lerena made an undignified noise of surprise. She jumped back into her chair and held her feet above the floor. "Ztop DOING THAT!"
The grin returned completely. "Als(..), I'd call y(..)ur fancy fishbl(..)(..)d stylist and get a refund." Lerena's hair suddenly began to frizz uncontrollably.
"What are you TALKING about?" she asked, not noticing.
"Well," Isaard said maliciously, "let us just say that c(..)nversati(..)ns with me tend t(..) be a bit.... hair-raising."
"Wha-" She reached up and felt her hair. "Oh," she sighed. "Oh, you made my hair frizzy. And then you made a terrible pun about it. How endearing."
She turned around and reached into her pocketbook, rummaging for her compact. She slipped a long, thin blade into her sleeve and withdrew her hand, holding the compact. She looked in the mirror. "Hmm. Pity." Isaard was snickering.
"Goodnezz me," she said, snapping the compact closed. "You certainly have ruined my day!" She put a hand against her forehead. "Oh my, I believe I may be having a caze of the vapourz."
Isaard smiled from his chair. "Stick ar(..)und, it gets w(..)rse s(..)(..)n."
"Oh my," Lerena continued, "I don't think my fragile zeadweller conztitution can handle thiz!" She staggered forward a bit, throwing a hand out as if to regain her balance. The blade slipped briefly out of her sleeve and sliced off a good chunk of Isaard's long hair. It fell to the ground as the knife returned to its sheath and Lerena regained her balance.
"(..)h, I supp(..)se that just happened," Isaard said, looking mournfully at the swath of black hair on the floor.
"Hmm?" Lerena asked, having returned to patting her hair down in the mirror. She acted like nothing had even happened, paying no mind to the blueblood.
Isaard assessed the damage. About two feet had been sheared off on one side, leaving his hair shoulder-length on the left and waist-length on the right. He sighed. "Seems I'll have t(..) cut m(..)st (..)f this (..)ff just t(..) even it (..)ut."
Lerena looked up. "Goodnezz," she asked, "how did that happen?"
"My guess is a well-c(..)(..)rdinated sleight (..)f hand."
Lerena smiled brightly. "Well, it could alwayz have been the magic zqueakbeaztz. You certainly can't rule them out!" Her tone was as cheerful as that of someone convincing their grub that Troll Santa Claus does indeed exist and brings presents to all the good little grubs.
Isaard felt the shorn end of his hair for a bit. His hand went to his pocket as his phone buzzed, signifying that he had received a text message. He grinned. Lerena didn't notice, as she had gone back to fixing her hair. She sat down, satisfied, and crossed her legs. Isaard finally stood up and walked over to Lerena. She looked up, annoyed. Then she realized just how tall he was, and her eyes widened. Isaard began to get uncomfortably close.
"Can I help you?" she asked, discomforted.
He bent over to her eye level. "Listen t(..) me fishbl(..)(..)d, and listen well." He smiled and looked her directly in the eyes. She blinked. "B(..)(..)ks can be replaced, hair can be regr(..)wn, but what is ab(..)ut t(..) happen will stay with y(..)u f(..)r the rest (..)f y(..)ur miserable life."
Suddenly a huge uproar was heard in the conference room. A rumble of confusion accompanied shrill shouting, then laughter.
Isaard smiled and straightened up. "I believe (..)ur time t(..)gether is at an end."
"Thank god for tha-" Lerena started, annoyed, when she was interrupted by the door slamming open right next to her ear. The Marquess stormed out, infuriated. She grabbed Lerena, digging her expertly manicured nails into her arm.
"GET YOUR BAG," she hissed. "WE'RE LEAVING. NOW."
"Okay," Lerena said, used to her guardian's mood swings. She grabbed her bag and got up. The Apostate and the Retainer waked out, Iscariot sharing a smile with his son.
Lerena was dragged out to the car, marched at a forced pace by her irate mother. The Marquess refused to talk, instead muttering angrily under her breath. Lerena just went along with it, surreptitiously rolling her eyes.
Isaard called out to her from the doorway. "I think y(..)u may have s(..)mething (..)n y(..)ur shirt!" he yelled.
Lerena examined her shirt apprehensively. She stifled a gasp when she saw small, blue, glowing print reading "I cast expl(..)sive runes while y(..)u were distracted."
"WHAT?" she shouted. A small fireworks show exploded out of her shirt into her face. Lerena jerked her head back to avoid the annoying sparks. Soot was settling on her face. She whipped her head around and locked eyes with Isaard. SHe opened her mouth as if to say something, but her mother shoved her into the car before she got the chance. Isaard only smiled. His father put a hand on his shoulder proudly.
The expensive car pulled out, its tires screaming, as the Marquess fumed silently.
It was a waste of another Wednesday evening. Lerena had already finished her homework, easy as it was, and so she was sitting, bored, in the waiting room reading Troll Jane Austen. Her mother, the regional representative for the Betty Crocker Corporation, was attending a meeting of the board of the directors of the college. BCCorp was, of course, a large sponsor of the college, and without its generous grants the university would not be able to teach nearly as many students. This meant, naturally, that her mother had considerable sway. Lerena was attempting to ignore the buzz of conversation coming from behind the door and focus on her novel. She slouched in her chair.
Nearby, a few seats away, sat Isaard. His father, as the dean of the theoretical science department, had to attend all sorts of these boring meetings. Normally Isaard would have been left at home to be watched by his lusus, but Mantadad was sick and so Isaard had to come along. A thick book was spread across his lap.
A voice was raised inside the conference room. Lerena smiled, recognizing it as her mother's. Whenever her mother raised her voice, it usually meant that someone was going to pay. Isaard made an audible grunt at this and turned up his iGrub to block out the noise. Subdued electric guitars could clearly be heard from Lerena's seat. She frowned.
"Excuze me," she said, turning to Isaard, "Would you mind turning that down?" Isaard didn't respond. He remained totally absorbed in his book, nodding his head slightly to the beat of the music that was now grating on Lerena's nerves. She sighed and got up, placing her book neatly on her seat. She walked over to Isaard and tapped him on the shoulder. She smiled politely. "Excuze me, but would you mind turning that down?"
Isaard looked up. He took out his headphones. "S(..)rry, what was that?"
Lerena's smile strained a little. "Could you pleaze turn that down, I can hear it from where I'm zitting."
Isaard blinked. "(..)h, s(..)rry ab(..)ut that." He turned the volume down. "I was trying t(..) dr(..)wn (..)ut whichever ann(..)ying speaker they have up there n(..)w."
Lerena's smile lost a couple of teeth. "That annoying zpeaker iz my mother."
Isaard turned back to his book. "My c(..)nd(..)lences then."
The smile dropped from Lerena's face altogether. "Do pleaze take that back," she calmly requested.
"H(..)w?" Isaard asked, still not looking at her. "(..)nce I state my (..)pini(..)ns I can't change what I've said"
"You could look up from your dumb book and apologize." Lerena said mock-politely. "That would certainly help."
Isaard looked up from his book begrudgingly. "Fine, I am deeply s(..)rry that she is y(..)ur m(..)ther." He looked back at his book.
Lerena's face flushed slightly, angry. "That iz not at all what I meant and you know it! Now apologize."
Isaard refused to look up. "(..)k, h(..)w ab(..)ut, 'I am s(..)rry that I p(..)inted (..)ut what a terribly b(..)ring speaker y(..)ur m(..)ther is.'"
In response Lerena put her hand over the book, covering up the page that Isaard was trying to read. Her nail polish matched her blood perfectly. "Why are you being zo rude?" she demanded. "All I azked for waz a zimple apology."
Isaard sighed in exasperation. "Well, I menti(..)ned that I am b(..)red (..)ut (..)f my mind, c(..)rrect?"
"No. That haz nothing to do with anything."
He looked down at her hand. "By the by," he asked, "why d(..) y(..)u chew y(..)ur nails?"
"Excuze me?"
"Y(..)ur nails, they are chewed, why?"
Lerena was momentarily confused. "What in the world are you talking about?" She took her hand off the page and examined it, looking for any possible sign of a hangnail or something of that nature. "I do not chew my nailz!"
Isaard smiled slightly. "Ah, thank y(..)u f(..)r rem(..)ving y(..)ur hand fr(..)m my reading." He returned to his book.
Lerena scowled and snatched the book, holding it just out of Isaard's reach. "You are being exceedingly rude!"
Isaard looked up, a little peeved. "N(..)w that was rude."
"Oh, pardon me." Lerena's tone was positively dripping with sarcasm. "Now I would love for you to tell me why you are being zo rude."
Isaard noted her sarcasm and decided not to play that game, instead responding comepletely straight. "Give me my b(..)(..)k back and all is f(..)rgiven."
Lerena pretended to think about it. She flipped the book over, deliberately losing Isaard's place and glancing at the title. When she read it she had to suppress a laugh. "Troll Lord of the Ringz?" she asked, amused. "Really? You're reading fairy talez?"
"I prefer the term Speculative ficti(..)n, but whatever." He was slightly annoyed by her flagrant disregard for his book.
Lerena smirked. "Well izn't that adorable." She adopted the tone one would use to talk to a small child having difficulty grasping the idea that two and two make four. "Don't tell me you enjoy thiz tripe."
Isaard's brows furrowed. "Well since y(..)u apear t(..) be s(..) cl(..)se-minded, what are y(..)u reading? Tr(..)ll Twilight?"
Lerena had to stop herself from taking a step back in shock. "I would never read anything like that!" Her face betrayed her contempt. She adopted a superior tone. "If you muzt know I am reading Troll Jane Auzten."
Isaard rolled his eyes. "S(..) basically the same thing."
"What."
He sighed. "Tw(..) idi(..)ts c(..)mplain and whine f(..)r the length (..)f the b(..)(..)k and then realize that there was n(..)thing t(..) c(..)mplain ab(..)ut."
"That iz abzolutely not what happenz!" Lerena's mouth twitched downward. "Clearly you have never read thiz great piece of clazzical troll literature, and have inztead been cluttering up your mind with thiz foolizhnezz." She held Isaard's book like it was a dirty rag and suppressed a grimace.
He shrugged. "Eh, true (..)n the n(..)t having read it part, but all in all r(..)mance isn't my thing."
"Hmph." Lerena frowned. "And you call me cloze-minded."
"It's just part (..)f my literary phil(..)s(..)phy."
"Ooooh, you have a philozphy." Her tone returned to the talking-to-an-idiot cadence. "How imprezzive."
"Yes. H(..)wever, I can already sp(..)t a an issue with y(..)ur b(..)(..)k just by l(..)(..)king at it."
"Oh really," she responded sarcastically. "Pleaze, enlighten me."
Isaard was very angry by this point. "It's (..)n fire."
"What?" The sound of paper catching fire hit Lerena's auricular sponge clots. "WHAT?!"
She turned around and ran over to it, tossing Isaard's book aside. He snatched it out of the air. Lerena had no idea what to do. She knew that she should put out the fire, but the heat was too frightening for her. Seadwellers have an inherent terror of fire, and indeed it was one of the few successful weapons used in any lowblood uprising. The fire was mysteriously contained to the book, and only singed the chair. The book turned to ashes before her eyes. She angrily turned back to Isaard, her eyes stinging from the heat.
"WHAT DID YOU DO."
His face remained completely straight. "Lit it (..)n fire with magic."
The blood rose to Lerena's face in anger, turning her a violent shade of purple. "Magic." She spat the word out like a curse. "Really."
He smirked. "N(..), n(..)t really I have a lighter and I'm just that fast."
"I waz watching you the entire time, now tell me what the hell you did." She gritted her teeth.
His tone was still one hundred percent straight. "I have a trained team (..)f ars(..)nist squeak beasts that I carry with me where ever I g(..)."
Fists clenched at Lerena's sides. Her bright purple nails dug into her palms. The smirk on Isaard's face evolved into a grin. Lerena could not stand that smile. "Why. Did you. Zet my book. On fire."
The grin widened. "Well, the squeak beasts get restless if they d(..)n't light s(..)mething up every (..)nce in a while."
"Pleaze ztop fucking around and tell me why."
"I just t(..)ld y(..)u why."
"Don't inzult my intelligence."
"Fine, is there any (..)ther aspect (..)f y(..)u that I sh(..)uld insult?"
Her fangs ground against each other. "What makez you think that you can talk to me thiz way?
"N(..)thing makes me think that." He narrowed his eyes. "I just d(..) it."
"You arrogant-" Lerena started loudly, then took a deep breath. She made a visible effort to remain calm. "Pleaze apologize for zetting my book on fire."
The grin did not disappear from Isaard's face. "(..)h s(..) are y(..)u saying that y(..)u believe in magic and/(..)r my pers(..)nal army (..)f ars(..)nist squeakbeasts?"
Lerena had to consciously keep her tone down. "No, that iz not what I am zaying in the leazt." She relaxed her fists. "It iz zimply obviouz that you zet my book on fire, and I do not know how, nor do I care." She looked calmly at Isaard. "Now apologize."
Isaard's grin was starting to drive her a little crazy. "Tell me h(..)w I c(..)mmited the crime first, and then I may ap(..)l(..)gize."
A muscle jumped in her eyelid. "You zaid it yourzelf, you have a lighter and you're zimply that fazt. That zeemz to be the eaziezt of your liez to zwallow."
Isaard put a hand on his chin, as if confused. "But wait, if I was lying, then that is n(..)t h(..)w I did it."
"I do not CARE." She had to make an effort to regain control of her tone. "Juzt apologize and I will leave you in peace." She took another deep breath and closed her eyes to calm down.
"I already gave y(..)u my terms f(..)r the ap(..)l(..)gy, either pr(..)ve that I c(..)mmited the act (..)r leave. Becuase if y(..)u can't pr(..)ve that I burned y(..)ur b(..)(..)k then it was simply a case (..)f sp(..)ntane(..)us c(..)mbusti(..)n, and I have n(..)thing t(..) ap(..)l(..)gise f(..)r."
The blood rushed back into Lerena's face. She took two strides forward and slapped Isaard, leaving a handprint across his face in bright blue. "Do not DARE uze that inzolent tone of voice with me," she demanded.
A creepy smile spread across Isaard's face. "Heheheheeheheeheheheheheheheeheh." Lerena stepped back a little, unnerved. The smile grew. "Tell me fishbl(..)(..)d, is this the way y(..)u always react t(..) n(..)t getting y(..)ur way?"
Her disconcertment was abruptly replaced by anger. "Fizhblood?"
"Answer the questi(..)n."
"Why would I EVER lizten to you?"
"Answer. The. Questi(..)n."
Lerena glared at him. "Yez," she haughtily responded. "Yez, thiz iz generally how I rezpond to inzolence, ezpecially of the unprovoked kind."
Lerena had not thought it possible that his smile could grow, but it did. "Well at least y(..)u're an h(..)nest fishbl(..)(..)d. I can't tell y(..)u h(..)w many (..)f y(..)ur kind try and defend their acti(..)ns."
"My kind?" Her voice rose in anger. "Excuze me?" The color showed no sign of draining from her face.
"I mean y(..)u w(..)uldn't beleive h(..)w many (..)f y(..)ur kind will tell y(..)u t(..) y(..)ur face that 'I'm n(..)t like that n(..)rmally,' (..)r that they're 'In c(..)mplete c(..)ntr(..)l'. It's nice t(..) finally meet (..)ne (..)f y(..)u wh(..) kn(..)ws that they are a h(..)rrible pers(..)n and is willing t(..) admit it."
"What?!" she shouted, then composed herself again. "Oh, I zee. You're one of thoze prejudiced baztardz, aren't you. One of the onez who thinkz that all zeadwellerz are the zame." She sighed. "Wonderful. It'z rare to find one who'z a blueblood, though. Zo congratz, you're bucking the ztereotype!" She clapped her hands together slowly three times.
He shrugged again. "(..)h I d(..)n't mean t(..) say that the bluebl(..)(..)ds are any better."
"Really." Lerena's eyebrow raised in disbelief. She folded her arms.
"(..)h yes, (..)nce y(..)u get past green, y(..)u're pretty much entering c(..)l(..)ssal prick terit(..)ry."
She did not quite know what to make of this. "You're certainly an odd one."
His grin shrank. "Y(..)u're certainly n(..)t the first t(..) say that."
"Oh, I don't doubt it." She gestured to the top of his head. "I'm zure your... interezting horn didn't help either."
Isaard's eye twitched. "My, aren't y(..)u the (..)bservant (..)ne?"
Lerena smirked, her purple lips curling upwards. "You don't have to be obzervant to notice that."
Isaard's eyebrows drew downward. "(..)h, are we g(..)ing with this cliche gr(..)up (..)f insults? I w(..)uld have h(..)ped that y(..)u w(..)uld be m(..)re creative."
Her eyes widened in mock affront. "Goodnezz, me? Inzult you? Never." She put a hand over her mouth in shock. "My my, why would I ever want to do that?"
"That is a g(..)(..)d p(..)int," he said. "By the by, I think that y(..)u are c(..)ming d(..)wn with s(..)mething."
"What." Lerena said, confused momentarily.
"Sp(..)ntane(..)us c(..)mbusti(..)n." He snapped his fingers, and she felt a burning sensation in her foot.
"Ow!" Lerena hopped around in a most undignified fashion. "Ow ow ow ow!" She only barely managed not to fall over. "Ow!!!" She sat down in the nearlest chair and held her throbbing foot. "What the glub WAZ that?"
"Magic," Isaard responded, amusement creeping back into his tone.
She shot him a seething glare. "That excuze iz getting more and more annoying by the zecond." She stood back up, her foot already back to normal.
"It's n(..)t an excuse if it is the truth."
"Hoofbeaztzhit." If looks could kill. "Tell me what you did."
He smiled. "I cast a simple fire spell (..)n the fl(..)(..)r where y(..)ur f(..)(..)t was." He pointed at a slightly singed spot on the carpet. Lerena refused to look.
"I thought I told you not to inzult my intelligence." She sneered. "You're not telling me you're deluzional enough to believe in magic"
"Y(..)u sh(..)uld put s(..)me ice (..)n that f(..)(..)t (..)f y(..)urs." The floor suddenly became extremely cold.
Lerena made an undignified noise of surprise. She jumped back into her chair and held her feet above the floor. "Ztop DOING THAT!"
The grin returned completely. "Als(..), I'd call y(..)ur fancy fishbl(..)(..)d stylist and get a refund." Lerena's hair suddenly began to frizz uncontrollably.
"What are you TALKING about?" she asked, not noticing.
"Well," Isaard said maliciously, "let us just say that c(..)nversati(..)ns with me tend t(..) be a bit.... hair-raising."
"Wha-" She reached up and felt her hair. "Oh," she sighed. "Oh, you made my hair frizzy. And then you made a terrible pun about it. How endearing."
She turned around and reached into her pocketbook, rummaging for her compact. She slipped a long, thin blade into her sleeve and withdrew her hand, holding the compact. She looked in the mirror. "Hmm. Pity." Isaard was snickering.
"Goodnezz me," she said, snapping the compact closed. "You certainly have ruined my day!" She put a hand against her forehead. "Oh my, I believe I may be having a caze of the vapourz."
Isaard smiled from his chair. "Stick ar(..)und, it gets w(..)rse s(..)(..)n."
"Oh my," Lerena continued, "I don't think my fragile zeadweller conztitution can handle thiz!" She staggered forward a bit, throwing a hand out as if to regain her balance. The blade slipped briefly out of her sleeve and sliced off a good chunk of Isaard's long hair. It fell to the ground as the knife returned to its sheath and Lerena regained her balance.
"(..)h, I supp(..)se that just happened," Isaard said, looking mournfully at the swath of black hair on the floor.
"Hmm?" Lerena asked, having returned to patting her hair down in the mirror. She acted like nothing had even happened, paying no mind to the blueblood.
Isaard assessed the damage. About two feet had been sheared off on one side, leaving his hair shoulder-length on the left and waist-length on the right. He sighed. "Seems I'll have t(..) cut m(..)st (..)f this (..)ff just t(..) even it (..)ut."
Lerena looked up. "Goodnezz," she asked, "how did that happen?"
"My guess is a well-c(..)(..)rdinated sleight (..)f hand."
Lerena smiled brightly. "Well, it could alwayz have been the magic zqueakbeaztz. You certainly can't rule them out!" Her tone was as cheerful as that of someone convincing their grub that Troll Santa Claus does indeed exist and brings presents to all the good little grubs.
Isaard felt the shorn end of his hair for a bit. His hand went to his pocket as his phone buzzed, signifying that he had received a text message. He grinned. Lerena didn't notice, as she had gone back to fixing her hair. She sat down, satisfied, and crossed her legs. Isaard finally stood up and walked over to Lerena. She looked up, annoyed. Then she realized just how tall he was, and her eyes widened. Isaard began to get uncomfortably close.
"Can I help you?" she asked, discomforted.
He bent over to her eye level. "Listen t(..) me fishbl(..)(..)d, and listen well." He smiled and looked her directly in the eyes. She blinked. "B(..)(..)ks can be replaced, hair can be regr(..)wn, but what is ab(..)ut t(..) happen will stay with y(..)u f(..)r the rest (..)f y(..)ur miserable life."
Suddenly a huge uproar was heard in the conference room. A rumble of confusion accompanied shrill shouting, then laughter.
Isaard smiled and straightened up. "I believe (..)ur time t(..)gether is at an end."
"Thank god for tha-" Lerena started, annoyed, when she was interrupted by the door slamming open right next to her ear. The Marquess stormed out, infuriated. She grabbed Lerena, digging her expertly manicured nails into her arm.
"GET YOUR BAG," she hissed. "WE'RE LEAVING. NOW."
"Okay," Lerena said, used to her guardian's mood swings. She grabbed her bag and got up. The Apostate and the Retainer waked out, Iscariot sharing a smile with his son.
Lerena was dragged out to the car, marched at a forced pace by her irate mother. The Marquess refused to talk, instead muttering angrily under her breath. Lerena just went along with it, surreptitiously rolling her eyes.
Isaard called out to her from the doorway. "I think y(..)u may have s(..)mething (..)n y(..)ur shirt!" he yelled.
Lerena examined her shirt apprehensively. She stifled a gasp when she saw small, blue, glowing print reading "I cast expl(..)sive runes while y(..)u were distracted."
"WHAT?" she shouted. A small fireworks show exploded out of her shirt into her face. Lerena jerked her head back to avoid the annoying sparks. Soot was settling on her face. She whipped her head around and locked eyes with Isaard. SHe opened her mouth as if to say something, but her mother shoved her into the car before she got the chance. Isaard only smiled. His father put a hand on his shoulder proudly.
The expensive car pulled out, its tires screaming, as the Marquess fumed silently.
