winter: (Default)
Beth Winter ([personal profile] winter) wrote 2006-07-01 09:51 am (UTC)

*eyedart* *opens files*

*throws you a snippet of Italy to throw you off the scent*


“Are you that eager to dance, Herbert?” The mask hid von Krolock’s face, but the smile was audible in his voice.

“It’s not just dancing, is it?” Herbert leaned back against the seat and pouted as he stared at the roof of the carriage. “And Guido says he was allowed to come to balls since he turned fifteen.”

“Guido, I must say, is Venetian and raised to tread the ballrooms of this city. There were skills I deemed it necessary for you to learn before joining the crowds of the Carnival,” von Krolock said. Then he turned his face to the window, the silver of his mask reflecting the lanterns outside. “And Guido is probably also more informed about the Italian vice, and how to avoid falling victim to it.”

Herbert frowned. “The Italian vice, Father?”

If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought the way his father inclined his head meant embarrassment. “I suppose I should have talked with you about it before. The Carnival balls, in particular, are often a hunting ground for... men who prefer the company of other men. I fear that one of them may approach you-“

“But-“ Herbert almost rose to his feet before he remembered the carriage was far too low, and would ruin the feathers on his mask besides. “I don’t know what Guido’s sister told you, but she’s wrong, all right? We weren’t doing anything!” He was very thankful for the fact his half-mask covered his cheeks. “Just kissing,” he muttered almost inaudibly.

Von Krolock startled slightly at Herbert’s outburst, reaching out to steady him. “I didn’t talk to signorina Abelli. Should I have?”

“She’s a silly chit,” Herbert scoffed. “And I don’t see what’s so bad. I’ve seen you with Lord Draculea.”

Belatedly, he ducked his head as he remembered his own encounter with Vlad Draculea, over a year ago. Come to think of it, the vampire lord was definitely to blame for this.

It took a moment for him to realise that the sound he was hearing was his father’s laughter, muffled by the mask.

“Dear one, I think we should start this conversation again,” von Krolock murmured. “I’m afraid I underestimated you. I trust you to defend yourself from any unwelcome persons, male or female, with your words and your sword if needed be. Though I must admit I did not expect – Guido?”

“Well, just that once,” Herbert muttered, his face tucked firmly into the upholstery of the seat. “And you meant like those idiots who try and talk you into bed with them because they’re so grown-up and wonderful?”

Von Krolock nodded.

“I know about them,” Herbert sneered. “Ciro’s always going on about this guy or that, and they’re old. And he thinks it all makes him so experienced, but I kiss much better than him,” he finished triumphantly, then raised his fingers to his lips. He had a feeling his mouth was running away on him.

“I... see,” von Krolock said quietly.

Herbert wished the earth would open up and swallow him, or failing that, that the carriage would finally get to the ball, where he could get lost in the crowd. He shifted in his seat. “And Guido’s sister is just jealous, because she thinks I should be kissing her instead. Girls are stupid.”

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