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August 2, 2003 |
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Gideon Club - Study ...
Matthew walks into the club, sketchbook and pencil case in hand.
Yosannah sits at the table next to the windows. A pen dangles loosely in her right hand. Folders, large texts and papers are scattered across the surface of the table. Her attention, however, seems to be drifting out the large windows and across the yard of the mansion.
Matthew pauses near the doorway, watching Yo. A smile curves his lips, oddly soft and gentle given their previous encounters. He waits a few moments, then clears his throat. "Hello, Yosannah."
Yosannah's head turns over her shoulder so that she might regard the man, gaze lowers to catch a glimpse at the objects he carries. She is surprised, "Matthew." Blinking once or twice she furrows her brow, "I uh... hello. What are you doing here?"
Matthew sets his supplies down on a table and crosses the room to her. "Reminiscing, mostly." He walks behind her and stares out the window for a moment, perhaps to see what she sees. His hands move when he turns, resting on her shoulders, a gesture shared by friends - though they were never such.
Yosannah flinches at his touch, head turning slightly and eyes peering sidelong at the hand that rests on her left shoulder. "About?" She makes no move to remove herself from his grasp. She does, however, close the folders on the table and gathers the paperwork.
Matthew doesn't try to look at her work. His hands begin to move, rubbing her shoulders - though the pressure is muted by her clothing. "The mistakes I made in life, mostly."
Yosannah inhales deeply and exhales slowly now at the gesture. She sets her hands, palms resting flat, on the table and begins to move as if to rise - if he will let her. "What has that to do with the Club? Or anyone in it for that matter?"
Matthew doesn't stop her. "I was hoping to find you here, Yosannah." He moves back a few feet. "I was never nice to you, was I?"
Yosannah stands now, arms crossed over her shoulders, weight falling mostly to her right leg, "I'm not sure where you're going with this, but," She shrugs her shoulders, "If the truth be told, I never gave it much thought. Disinterested in one another is more like it."
Matthew nods, walking over to the table where he put his supplies and finding a seat. "I wanted to apologize."
Yosannah tugs at her lower lip with her teeth as she watches him move to the table. She raises a brow," Apologize?"
Matthew nods. "For being an ass."
Yosannah lifts a hand to her face and rubs at her eyes, weary, with the back of her hand, "I wonder what brought this on? Care to tell?"
Matthew shrugs, opening a pad of paper, selecting a pencil. "Just a mood, I suppose. I am honest in my intentions, however. Release your paranoia."
Yosannah hehs at that and mutters, "As if." She notes the pad of paper and lifts her chin in an effort to get a look at what might be on the surface, "For what it's worth, I know that you probably weren't yourself during out first meetings - but I never thought you an ass."
Matthew has just started a rough sketch of the study. "Thank you, then." He selects another pencil. "Will you sit with me a while? Share a cup of tea?"
Yosannah considers this a moment and then moves toward the table. She glances back at the items left on her table before sitting with him, "I suppose... You know, are you sure that Stone would approve of you making a sketch of this place?" She tilts her head and looks at the drawing.
Matthew shrugs. "He gave me a trump of it. But this is just a drawing." He smiles. "Besides, unless I’ve been fired, I'm the resident artist."
Yosannah nods, "Your two paintings are still upstairs in the lounge. I particularly like the snow cats."
Matthew dips his head in thanks. "May I sketch you, Yosannah? Not for a Trump, without your permission."
Yosannah lowers her gaze to the table and smirks, blushing slightly at the request, "I don't know..." she shakes her head. "I don't know that I have the patience to sit still anyway."
Matthew tilts his head. "As good as you look and you've never modeled?"
Yosannah looks up at him from under her brows, "Now you're just trying to flatter me." She scratches at her neckline, "I've never modeled, no. And I've only sat for a drawing once.... I'm not sure I would consider that modeling though."
Matthew ahs. "Will you model for me, then, Yosannah? I'm sure we can work out compensation for the time."
Yosannah clasps her hands together atop the table, fingers twining, "I'm just not..." she shakes her head and shrugs, "I mean, aren't there other more interesting topics out there for who will model for you? We hardly know each other, Matthew."
Matthew shrugs. "What better way to get to know one another, Yosannah?"
Yosannah considers, "I dunno. Uh, drinks. Conversation. Idle chit chat." She nods as if this makes better sense to her.
Matthew says "We're chatting now, no? And there you are, sitting still..."
Yosannah chuckles at this, obviously uncomfortable. She stands, perhaps in defiance, perhaps in discomfort, and moves toward the bar, "I need a drink." She locates a bottle of wine and begins to look for a clean glass.
Matthew sketches in some shadows on the sketch. "Of course, Yo."
Yosannah sets a glass on the bar and begins to drive a corkscrew into the soft bung atop the bottle, "Lemme ask you something..."
Matthew looks at Yosannah, setting the pencil down for a bit. "Go on."
Yosannah pulls the cork from the bottle with a loud "POP". She begins to untwist it from the corkscrew, "How much do you recall about your time with the creature, Famine?"
Matthew says, "I have all my memories of that intact, and all those of the symbiote before I was the host. That," he smirks, "was the Serpent's gift to me."
Yosannah nods at this. She offers, "I don't always remember. Sometimes I have images... memories that I know can't be mine." She shrugs, "I guess I just wondered if it was the same for you. Obviously not." She turns her attention back to the cork.
Matthew nods. "Do you still have the creature in you?"
Yosannah swallows and considers this before responding, "No. Though I'm not entirely without blame in regards to what is occurring in the Courts, if that is what you are getting at."
Matthew hmms and nods. "Chaos is being plunged into Chaos, Yosannah. There is no blame to hold there."
Yosannah regards him casually and nods. A single inclination of her chin, "Right." She pours herself a glass of the clear wine, lifts it to her lips, and drinks deeply.
Matthew says "Pour me a glass?"
Yosannah nods, "Sure." She fishes around for another glass, "How did you get free of it? Or, did it get free of you?"
Matthew hmms. "A little of both, actually. I proved too strong for it, as far as resisting the impulses, and it seemed to favor my wife at the time. She liked the idea of being Famine and a transfer was made." He shudders. "Damned hard ritual to perform, you know."
Yosannah inquires, "Your wife?"
Matthew says "Ex, now."
"Not Rubi?"
Matthew nods. "The same."
Yosannah carries two classes in one hand and the bottle in the other over to Matthew's table. She places a glass before him, sets the bottle on the table and sits across from him, "I didn't know."
Matthew nods. "We were married, and both of us to Selene." He takes up the glass. "it was a strange thing."
Yosannah nods, "I imagine so. I was unable to make the funeral services for Selene up the street. Were you?"
Matthew laughs before sipping his wine. "I did, though I'm sure there are those that wished I had not."
Yosannah runs a finger over the rim of her glass, "How's that?"
Matthew considers Yosannah. "I received a last kiss from Selene."
Yosannah lifts the glass to her lips but pauses before she can take a sip, "What?"
Matthew shrugs. "I am a Yyvrael, Yosannah. The knack for necromancy runs in my veins."
Yosannah sets he glass before her, "You... animated her?"
Matthew says "For a moment."
Yosannah wears a puzzled expression. "Right." She studies him and then offers, flatly, "That IS a little strange, you must admit."
Matthew nods. "I have never claimed normalcy."
Yosannah lifts her glass to him and toasts, "Touche." She drinks.
Matthew salutes with his drink. "And what of yourself? How did you become the Bearer of Pestilence?"
Yosannah shrugs, "I don't know." She reflects for a moment. "The realization was gradual for me, so I can't be sure. There was an incident in Kashfa many years back that I often think may have been the moment - but I can't be sure."
Matthew says "Tell me of it?"
Yosannah cups her hands around her glass and recalls, "I was, um, visiting the palace with Damen. His father is the king or whatever there. Luke." She shrugs, " It was the first time I can recall having a moment where I didn't have all my faculties about me. Where I wasn't in control of myself. I can't really explain it any better than that, honestly."
Matthew ahs. "I've met Luke. Used to work for them. Nice guy, really, for Royalty." He sips some more wine. "Yosannah... The Horsemen are a monument to Time and Immortality. I think... I think I'd like to create a gallery of them. For private use, though. Only those connected."
Yosannah gulps at her wine, "I dunno. How 'about I think about what you're asking me. Fair enough?"
Matthew nods. "Fair."
Yosannah nods as well, "Good. I must be off then." She stands from the table and moves to collect her work from the other table, "Take care of yourself."