SPPM snippet 2f - Vincent and his family.
Jun. 28th, 2006 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreTo get to know my SPPM characters better, I've decided to do little character snippets based on various points yanked from their personality and history entries on the p-sheets I turned in. The game doesn't move fast enough for me to write a ton of entries per character, which is how I've gotten used to my pawns in the past, so I'm trying to make up for that.
They're supposed to be short, but some end up longer than others.
. . . . .
Summer might have been a pleasant vacation, Vincent thought, if one didn't have to spend it at home.
His carriage arrived just after sundown, when the sky was deepening to purple and the lingering clouds on the western horizon were slashed with vivid reds and yellow. The estate's wrought-iron gates clanged shut with too much finality and slashed across his view like prison bars. The metaphor wasn't far from the truth, he sometimes thought. He could barely remember a time when he thought differently.
"My lord--"
Vincent spun on his heel. "Hannah."
His smile was fake and they both knew it. The housekeeper bowed prefunctorily and offered a tight-lipped smile in return. "His lordship said you're to rest until he calls for you." The smile disappeared and she gave him a critical once-over. "And you're to be respectable by then, too. Your sister and her husband are here to see you, and he doesn't want you making a bad impression on a bishop."
"Bishops be damned," he said, cocking an eyebrow and ignoring her swift intake of breath. "I've just come back and I already have to put on a show? Tell him they can wait. I'm tired." He pushed past her and strode through the door, which was held open by a young girl he didn't recognize. A new one, then. Mother'd said something about that in her last letter. "Where is Belinda?"
"Belinda can wait," the housekeeper said sharply. "You father ordered--"
"Fine, I'll look for her myself," he interrupted, waving her off. A maid and the housekeeper - what a welcome. Did the stablehands count, if they left before the gate closed to put the carriage away? Ah well, he had never gotten on well with Hannah anyway. She was worse than his father about telling him to do this, or do that, or lecturing at length what his duty was, as if he didn't understand quite well already.
He took the back way, past the kitchens and up a narrow staircase that wouldn't lead him past his father's study or the drawing room, where he was sure Mother was entertaining his sister and her guest. She thrived on such things, his mother - society, playing hostess. She even managed it without groveling. The thought of bending over backward to please his betters did not appeal to Vincent, however. Better to be on the field where his abilities could do the talking. His sister should have paid a visit to him at the Academy instead. Showing up for a special field exercise would be a better use of his time than whatever his father had planned. A formal dinner, maybe? A night of entertainment in the parlor? Ha.
The west wing was empty of servants when he got there, though the lamps were all lit and the curtains drawn. He strolled down the middle of the hallway with his hands in his pockets. Amelia always moved to different rooms in the wintertime - sixth door on the right, if he recalled. They were the only ones using the wing now that the others had left and Hilda had married. The spaces beneath the doors were dark except for the last. He knocked loudly, just in case she was in the other room.
There was commotion inside, and then the pounding of footsteps, before the door was yanked open and Vincent found himself staggering back with an armful of his younger sister.
"Vincent~!" Her cry was sing-song and sweet, but her hug nearly squeezed the air out of him. "You idiot, you should be getting ready!"
"You don't sound that disappointed," he gasped out, returning her embrace for just a second before extracting himself from her hold. "Honestly Bel, you'll break someone in half like that. What have you been doing?"
She stuck her tongue out. "Come on, get in before someone comes looking for you." Belinda pulled him in by the arm and locked the door. "You know dad is going to be angry," she said conversationally, turning to regard him with her hands on her hips. "That bishop is here to see you."
Vincent eyed her critically. "And your hair is only half up. Why are you lecturing me?"
She threw her hands up. "Stupid as usual!" She stormed past him into the other room, and he followed more slowly while she talked. "They're here to offer you a job, idiot. I probably don't even get to show up, but Mom told me to get ready anyway. And you ask me what I've been doing." She plopped down into her dressing chair and her maid, silent and avoiding Vincent's eyes, took up her task of braiding his sister's golden curls. "Aren't you even looking for work? They're not going to let you hang around the academy forever."
"Still waiting on the graduation ceremony," he said, taking a seat on a plush stool nearby. "I can't run around asking favors until I have that stupid piece of paper in my hand."
"Father has been doing it for you."
"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair. "So why look? My marks aren't competitive without his influence anyway."
Belinda shot him a look. "Whose fault is that?"
"Whose side are you on?" Vincent pulled his legs up onto the stool and crossed them lotus-style. "Look, he already has his plans. He'll have me put away in some job where I can pretend to be a strategist, or a tactical liason, or whatever you want to call it, and I'll never see the light of day outside the Temple again. Forgive me if I'm not eager to jump right in."
Belinda stared at her dressing table, and only picked up a brush and a tin of powder at the prompting of her maid. "Jonathan was just 'pretending' to be a Temple Guard," she said. "And now he's 'pretending' to kill barbarians in Grassland. Maybe it'll turn out that way for you too. I wish you'd tried harder."
What if he dies like Stephen? Vincent could see the question in her eyes when she met his gaze through the mirror. What if you die like that? He shook his head and looked away.
Maybe he wasn't graduating at the top of his class, but he hadn't wasted his time there, either. He'd make do somehow. He wouldn't leave Bel to fend for herself.
. . . . .
These're probably going to suck across the board, but hopefully that will mean that my formal posts will be better if I get all of the kinks out here.
They're supposed to be short, but some end up longer than others.
. . . . .
Summer might have been a pleasant vacation, Vincent thought, if one didn't have to spend it at home.
His carriage arrived just after sundown, when the sky was deepening to purple and the lingering clouds on the western horizon were slashed with vivid reds and yellow. The estate's wrought-iron gates clanged shut with too much finality and slashed across his view like prison bars. The metaphor wasn't far from the truth, he sometimes thought. He could barely remember a time when he thought differently.
"My lord--"
Vincent spun on his heel. "Hannah."
His smile was fake and they both knew it. The housekeeper bowed prefunctorily and offered a tight-lipped smile in return. "His lordship said you're to rest until he calls for you." The smile disappeared and she gave him a critical once-over. "And you're to be respectable by then, too. Your sister and her husband are here to see you, and he doesn't want you making a bad impression on a bishop."
"Bishops be damned," he said, cocking an eyebrow and ignoring her swift intake of breath. "I've just come back and I already have to put on a show? Tell him they can wait. I'm tired." He pushed past her and strode through the door, which was held open by a young girl he didn't recognize. A new one, then. Mother'd said something about that in her last letter. "Where is Belinda?"
"Belinda can wait," the housekeeper said sharply. "You father ordered--"
"Fine, I'll look for her myself," he interrupted, waving her off. A maid and the housekeeper - what a welcome. Did the stablehands count, if they left before the gate closed to put the carriage away? Ah well, he had never gotten on well with Hannah anyway. She was worse than his father about telling him to do this, or do that, or lecturing at length what his duty was, as if he didn't understand quite well already.
He took the back way, past the kitchens and up a narrow staircase that wouldn't lead him past his father's study or the drawing room, where he was sure Mother was entertaining his sister and her guest. She thrived on such things, his mother - society, playing hostess. She even managed it without groveling. The thought of bending over backward to please his betters did not appeal to Vincent, however. Better to be on the field where his abilities could do the talking. His sister should have paid a visit to him at the Academy instead. Showing up for a special field exercise would be a better use of his time than whatever his father had planned. A formal dinner, maybe? A night of entertainment in the parlor? Ha.
The west wing was empty of servants when he got there, though the lamps were all lit and the curtains drawn. He strolled down the middle of the hallway with his hands in his pockets. Amelia always moved to different rooms in the wintertime - sixth door on the right, if he recalled. They were the only ones using the wing now that the others had left and Hilda had married. The spaces beneath the doors were dark except for the last. He knocked loudly, just in case she was in the other room.
There was commotion inside, and then the pounding of footsteps, before the door was yanked open and Vincent found himself staggering back with an armful of his younger sister.
"Vincent~!" Her cry was sing-song and sweet, but her hug nearly squeezed the air out of him. "You idiot, you should be getting ready!"
"You don't sound that disappointed," he gasped out, returning her embrace for just a second before extracting himself from her hold. "Honestly Bel, you'll break someone in half like that. What have you been doing?"
She stuck her tongue out. "Come on, get in before someone comes looking for you." Belinda pulled him in by the arm and locked the door. "You know dad is going to be angry," she said conversationally, turning to regard him with her hands on her hips. "That bishop is here to see you."
Vincent eyed her critically. "And your hair is only half up. Why are you lecturing me?"
She threw her hands up. "Stupid as usual!" She stormed past him into the other room, and he followed more slowly while she talked. "They're here to offer you a job, idiot. I probably don't even get to show up, but Mom told me to get ready anyway. And you ask me what I've been doing." She plopped down into her dressing chair and her maid, silent and avoiding Vincent's eyes, took up her task of braiding his sister's golden curls. "Aren't you even looking for work? They're not going to let you hang around the academy forever."
"Still waiting on the graduation ceremony," he said, taking a seat on a plush stool nearby. "I can't run around asking favors until I have that stupid piece of paper in my hand."
"Father has been doing it for you."
"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair. "So why look? My marks aren't competitive without his influence anyway."
Belinda shot him a look. "Whose fault is that?"
"Whose side are you on?" Vincent pulled his legs up onto the stool and crossed them lotus-style. "Look, he already has his plans. He'll have me put away in some job where I can pretend to be a strategist, or a tactical liason, or whatever you want to call it, and I'll never see the light of day outside the Temple again. Forgive me if I'm not eager to jump right in."
Belinda stared at her dressing table, and only picked up a brush and a tin of powder at the prompting of her maid. "Jonathan was just 'pretending' to be a Temple Guard," she said. "And now he's 'pretending' to kill barbarians in Grassland. Maybe it'll turn out that way for you too. I wish you'd tried harder."
What if he dies like Stephen? Vincent could see the question in her eyes when she met his gaze through the mirror. What if you die like that? He shook his head and looked away.
Maybe he wasn't graduating at the top of his class, but he hadn't wasted his time there, either. He'd make do somehow. He wouldn't leave Bel to fend for herself.
. . . . .
These're probably going to suck across the board, but hopefully that will mean that my formal posts will be better if I get all of the kinks out here.