lady_moon | (no subject)

They finally make the ground floor again, into that main hall.

Halfway down it is a large painting of Sorrow seated in front of Ruin, both of them in traditional Victorian clothing and neither smiling.

"It seems that way, doesn't it? I've tried to get lost before, but I never seem to be able to."

The lower floor is full of the scents of Southern home cooking.

The moment the smell hits him, he realizes he's hungry.

Getting kidnapped can build up an appetite.

He scurries along after her. "Is Moon coming to dinner?"

"Yes. She won't go back to the bar until tomorrow."

She pauses where three rooms open up.

"To the right is the kitchen -- you can go in there any time. To the left is the dining hall. Straight will take you to the library."

Which was three stories high.

Sorrow leads him into the dining hall where there were several large tables set up, but only one was set. Fortune, a young, rakish man, sat at the foot, and Moon sat to his left while Choice sat at the head of the table. Choice was tall, older, giving off a particular feel of age.

"You can sit wherever you like..." Sorrow says as she approaches the table.

Miniver's eyes linger on Fortune. Eventually, he goes to sit next to Moon. He knows her.

"...Hi."

Moon smiles at him, and says, "Family dinner. This should be fun."

Beside him is where Sorrow sits, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes on her plate.

Fortune, whose eyes are a pale, almost icy blue, grins at him. "Too bad it's only a small portion of the family. Least Mary Anne got to meet most of us when she came visiting the first time." He also has a somewhat Southern accent. It's muted; he might have been from Louisianna once upon a time.

"Well, she was going to marry one of you," Miniver points out with another shy smile to Fortune.

He turns to Moon and nudges her. "As long as I'm being held here against my will, can I have wine? Could always pretend that was against my will, too..."

"You planning on marrying one of us?" Fortune teases with a wink and a grin.

Moon raises an eyebrow. "I believe that everything can be enjoyed in moderation."

"You believe no such thing," Choice interupts. "You're a card of excess and addiction."

There is some tongue sticking out on Moon's part at that. "He can have some wine. We won't let him become intoxicated."

"Thank you." He hides it well, but this really is making him extremely nervous. He isn't good with new people and strange places.

Even if Fortune is pretty to look at.

Moon understands. She places a hand on Miniver's thigh, squeezing reassuringly.

"Do you have a preference for wine?" she asks. "Or do you not care?"

He squeaks at the touch, clearly nervous.

"Um, I dunno. What're we having? Aren't you supposed to drink reds with some things and whites with others? I never really learned the trick of that one."

Skill comes in with a large tray and places dishes on the table between the occupants.

Fried chicken, sweet slices of country ham, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, fried okra, corn on the cob, green bean casserole, buttermilk biscuits, cornbread, sweet potato casserole, three bean salad, black eyed peas, and collard greens.

Moon eyes it all and then gives Skill an exasperated sigh.

"We're not starving, for Pete's sake!"

Fortune gets up and returns with bottles of cold beer, giving one to Miniver. "This is better for this sort of meal," he informs Miniver.

Well, he would agree with that one. He takes the bottle from Fortune with a grin.

"The Tarot cards eat American food," he laughs. "I'd have thought you guys ate weird things like Medieval venison and stuff. Or Greek god food. Or like the Medicis. Something."

Choice dishes up a plate of food for himself as the bowls and plates are passed. "When young Draco visited, we ate more of his sort of fare. This is Skill doing something in honour of your company," he explains.

Skill, who looks like everyone's perfect, matronly mother, sits next to Fortune and smiles happily at Miniver. "You're too thin. You need to eat plenty. There's also dessert, so keep room for that."

Miniver blushes a bit and nods to Skill as he takes some food. He takes a little bit of everything, but favors the macaroni and cheese, and the ham. He nibbles and pecks at things, but they do get eaten, and appreciated.

He seems to be quickly forgotten.

Well, not forgotten, but his presence isn't focused on.

"Coira is chomping at the bit again," Skill says to Moon. "She's unhappy that Ruin's happy."

"She's unhappy no matter what," Sorrow replies before sipping her iced tea. "Coira is hellbent on making sure Papa is as miserable as she is. She doesn't appreciate anything."

Choice clears his throat and shakes his head. "Fortune, have you spoken with Charity of late?"

Fortune swallows his mouth full, takes a swig of beer, and shakes his head. "No, she's off with Victory and Journey, doing some sort of work with that world that's mostly water? Some sort of war's supposed to happen and they're needed."

"Ah, yes. War on a water world; it's always an interesting thing to witness," Choice agrees.

Moon shakes her head. "Treading water isn't as much fun as it sounds."

Welcome to supper with the tarot, Miniver Cheevy.

Miniver listens. He's really glad to be essentially ignored -- he wouldn't know what to say if any of the cards DID try to talk to him. The food is good, the beer is good, the company is as good as company can be for such a shy, introverted person as Miniver is; but at the same time, as time passes, he cannot help but feel a small, gnawing loneliness deep inside him. It is a comfortable kidnapping, but the fact remains that it is, when all is said and done, a kidnapping. These are people he does not know, in a place he has never been, and there is no way out.

His distracts himself from these thoughts by collecting bits of things he thinks D'Artagnan might like to eat, tucking them into a napkin to take upstairs later.

Sorrow leans over, not touching Miniver but still very close, and says softly, "Sometimes extreme measures are necessary for certain sentients. And when we enact those extreme measures, other sentients take the full force of the pain involved rather than the one sentient we focus on."

Miniver jumps a bit in surprise at being spoken to.

"...What?" he asks her, not having really understood that one.

She giggles quietly while everyone else continues to chatter on about odds and ends of family business.

"The focus is Draco," she tries to explain. "But it's you who bears the burden. He isn't taken from you, from all he knows, it's you. Sometimes, it happens like that."

"Oh." He pauses, poking at some stray noodles on his plate. "I don't mind. I'd suffer much worse for him."

"That's the sad thing," Sorrow murmurs. "A tragedy, because he wouldn't for you."

He puts his hands in his lap, and doesn't look at her.

"I don't believe you."

"I didn't think you would."

Skill begins to clear the table while Moon hurries into the kitchen to help bring out dessert. Fortune pours glasses of sweet, pale wine to go with the berry torte Skill's prepared.

Miniver watches, quiet and pensive, murmuring a thanks to Skill for the wine and everything else, watching Moon, watching Fortune, watching everyone but Sorrow.

Moon dishes out a plate of the torte for Miniver, smiling.

"Just wait until breakfast. You might leave here with an extra thirty pounds on you," she teases.

Across from Miniver, Fortune sips his wine and watches the poet. He doesn't even try and hide the curious interest.

Sorrow just sits silently beside Miniver, picking at her dessert.