[WM] 21.2: Silky, Court-Trained Liar
Jan. 28th, 2008 09:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
changehistory"A man who knows the court is master of his gestures, of his eyes and of his face; he is profound, impenetrable; he dissimulates bad offices, smiles at his enemies, controls his irritation, disguises his passions, belies his heart, speaks and acts against his feelings." - Jean de La Bruyere (1645 - 1696)
Versailles, 1782
Adam was nearly 140 years old, and still these aristocrats baffled him. He'd slowly climbed, from peasant to samurai to merchant to bourgeoisie to officer in the Queen's Forces, a Major, a man of rank. When he abandoned them for Paris, he thought to try his hand a bit higher. Easy enough to claim to be the younger son of an aristocrat, come to travel, devoid of the responsibility that fell to his elder brother. He had the money to show for it, if he hesitated to claim a title, the smile, the looks, the charm, the charisma that had made men follow him to their own deaths with shouts and cheers.
The decadence suited him, he thought. He gambled and lost and gambled and won and made his way through the minor aristocracy until finally he found himself in the Queen's good graces while the King raised an indulgent eyebrow and let her play with the English puppy. But visiting was one thing, and, he quickly learned, joining them quite another.
Frederica was a lady of the best family. He'd only managed the marriage by seduction, finding her not as innocent as she'd claimed, but both of them confessing quietly to her father their sin, Adam swearing his dearest wish was to marry her, and the lady protesting she'd have no other, and tell them all she'd lain with him if his father didn't permit it. So they wed in pomp and circumstance, and from the fringes where he had watched, Adam found himself thrust into the center under his new father-in-law's auspices.
He'd learned to hide in plain sight, of course, always slipping through noticed for his looks, remarked for his charm, then gone with a smile and a bow. Now he was the focus of attention, scrutiny, everyone waiting for the English boy to prove himself as uncivilized as they all knew his people to be. Now there was intrigue, in a country seething with unrest, where every smile could hide a dagger and any frown could give away a plot. They watched him so closely he felt his skin crawl with it, his stories carefully dissected. He'd made himself too much of a mystery, and if they probed too deeply, he knew the story would unravel. So, ever the quick study, he learned to play their games. Intrigue became his life, as well, and he learned where a smile worked, and where a threat, murmured in a delicate ear would serve him better. His temper, always quick and hot, he learned to cool, to hide, only the iciness of his eyes belying his mood until finally, he learned to control that as well. His smiles came quicker than his frowns, his kisses hid behind more than fans. It took a few months, but by the time he left, his natural charm had woven itself into masks, ever fluid, ever changing. He learned their world inside out, and like a chameleon, fit himself inside of it.
When Frederica died a scant 18 months into their marriage, he slid behind the mask of grieving husband, then made his escape, back to Japan, but the lessons remained, never forgotten. Two centuries later, he would laugh at the games of New York's elite. Manipulative and sometimes macabre, they were still simplistic comparatively, and with a smooth tongue, a charming smile and eyes that gave nothing away, he played the game again.
Versailles, 1782
Adam was nearly 140 years old, and still these aristocrats baffled him. He'd slowly climbed, from peasant to samurai to merchant to bourgeoisie to officer in the Queen's Forces, a Major, a man of rank. When he abandoned them for Paris, he thought to try his hand a bit higher. Easy enough to claim to be the younger son of an aristocrat, come to travel, devoid of the responsibility that fell to his elder brother. He had the money to show for it, if he hesitated to claim a title, the smile, the looks, the charm, the charisma that had made men follow him to their own deaths with shouts and cheers.
The decadence suited him, he thought. He gambled and lost and gambled and won and made his way through the minor aristocracy until finally he found himself in the Queen's good graces while the King raised an indulgent eyebrow and let her play with the English puppy. But visiting was one thing, and, he quickly learned, joining them quite another.
Frederica was a lady of the best family. He'd only managed the marriage by seduction, finding her not as innocent as she'd claimed, but both of them confessing quietly to her father their sin, Adam swearing his dearest wish was to marry her, and the lady protesting she'd have no other, and tell them all she'd lain with him if his father didn't permit it. So they wed in pomp and circumstance, and from the fringes where he had watched, Adam found himself thrust into the center under his new father-in-law's auspices.
He'd learned to hide in plain sight, of course, always slipping through noticed for his looks, remarked for his charm, then gone with a smile and a bow. Now he was the focus of attention, scrutiny, everyone waiting for the English boy to prove himself as uncivilized as they all knew his people to be. Now there was intrigue, in a country seething with unrest, where every smile could hide a dagger and any frown could give away a plot. They watched him so closely he felt his skin crawl with it, his stories carefully dissected. He'd made himself too much of a mystery, and if they probed too deeply, he knew the story would unravel. So, ever the quick study, he learned to play their games. Intrigue became his life, as well, and he learned where a smile worked, and where a threat, murmured in a delicate ear would serve him better. His temper, always quick and hot, he learned to cool, to hide, only the iciness of his eyes belying his mood until finally, he learned to control that as well. His smiles came quicker than his frowns, his kisses hid behind more than fans. It took a few months, but by the time he left, his natural charm had woven itself into masks, ever fluid, ever changing. He learned their world inside out, and like a chameleon, fit himself inside of it.
When Frederica died a scant 18 months into their marriage, he slid behind the mask of grieving husband, then made his escape, back to Japan, but the lessons remained, never forgotten. Two centuries later, he would laugh at the games of New York's elite. Manipulative and sometimes macabre, they were still simplistic comparatively, and with a smooth tongue, a charming smile and eyes that gave nothing away, he played the game again.
