Three's Company. [Stefan]

High City of the Northlands

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Eitan Angevin
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Location: Zaichaer
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81st Searing, 121 Steel
The Angevin Estate


Stefan Dornkirk had been a guest at the home of the Angevins many a time, Melchior and Leir being thick as thieves since before he was born. It had an ancient splendor to it, though each generation took it upon themselves to refurbish what most needed refurbishing and replacing what couldn't be fixed. There were various follies—Eitan's favorite had always been Trystan's Folly, the tower in the yard where he and Brenner had climbed to feel the wind on their faces and pretend it was the deck of an airship in years gone by.

The gardens thrived in the summer sun. The gates closed behind his carriage and servants eased the way from carriage to the front door, from the foyer to the solarium where Eitan and Delia, his elder half-sister were having tea with their grandmother. Colorful butterflies flittered about from the flowering branches above. A pair of goldfinches sang in a gilded cage.

"I don't know what you thought you would prove mucking about in the Warrens, young man," Perpetua was saying, her tone not having changed since he was a boy. Now that he was a man, he was still scolded, and many people thought their grandmother disliked them, but they were the ones she actually liked.

"Grandmother, the Order—"

"Oh, don't presume to lecture me about the Order, young man," she said, railroading right over him while Delia smirked into her teacup. "My father was High Sentinel. I've forgotten more about the Order than you have yet to learn."

"Of course, grandmother—"

"Master Stefan Dornkirk," announced the butler at the door. All three of them rose, though Perpetua was slower about it.

"My cue to go take a nap," she said. "I'll leave the romancing to the children." She allowed each grandchild to kiss her cheek in turn and then led the charge toward the door, Eitan close behind. She paused, gave Stefan a critical up-and-down appraisal, and then nodded as if he would do. "Good day, Mister Dornkirk." And then she was gone.

Eitan grinned, grabbed Stefan's hand, his other coming up to hold his elbow as he shook his hand.

"Welcome, Stef. Come, sit, sit." He brought him over while the butler quickly cleared their grandmother's place setting and replaced it with fresh everything.

"Another pot of tea, miss?" He asked, and Delia nodded.

"In the meantime," she murmured, smiling as the boys approached and pulling a flask from out of her pocket. "Join me for whiskey, Mister Dornkirk?" Her smile was wicked, though he knew she was sweeter than her sisters. In any case, whenever their nuptials became an issue, she liked to pretend they were starting over, as if they weren't on a first-name basis already.
word count: 504
Mind is a razor blade.
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Stefan Dornkirk
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Title: Lord Dornkirk
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The grounds of the Angevin Estate were much as he remembered them from the last time he'd entered. It had been years, and while there might have been small changes in the arrangement of the flowerbeds or the cut of the decorative bushes he did not note them. The house itself was never-changing, a monolith from his childhood that remained, and likely always would remain as welcoming as it was intimidating.

The servants led him into the house proper and then to the solarium, where he saw his friend, his intended, and their legendarily formidable grandmother seated to tea. They all stood when he was announced, a formality which he was about to request be forgone when Lady Perpetua cut him off to take her leave. The elderly matron of House Angevin was a traditionalist of deepest standard and Stefan found her oddly comforting. She was open about her thoughts and feelings on any given topic and left no one in any confusion about how she expected them to act, which was just how he prefered it.

He bowed more deeply than he would have to a young woman, but not so deeply as would to a lord, just the correct amount, nodding his head as he rose, saying,

"My Lady Dowager Angevin." As was her proper title, with due respect that he didn't have to feign. The Lady was somewhat of a creature of ridicule among the generations younger than her, which were all of them, but the elder Dornkirk brother appreciated high protocol. He always knew what to do and say inside of it, unlike the more relaxed social niceties of modern Zaichaer. Receiving her grudging approval put him in a surprisingly good mood, which served to augment the tone of hope he had attuned for the meeting that afternoon.

Eitan bounded up and shook his hand with obvious enthusiasm and Stefan found it unexpectedly easy to respond with a smaller grin of his own.

"Hello, Eitan." Was his informal response to the greeting as he shook the man's hand in return, with firm affection. There was a moment of quiet between the three younger people as the serving staff cleared away Lady Perpetua's tea things and laid fresh ones for Stefan. Then they were all seated and Delia was offering him something she knew he liked. It was odd and nice to have a young woman know any of his tastes well enough to accommodate them. He made an over-acted, playful attempt to still his expression back to solemnity and said, as straight-faced as only a man who uses nothingness as a mask against severe insecurity could,

"Good afternoon, Miss Angevin. How very kind of you." Playing along in kind with her show of mild acquaintance. In truth, he had had this conversation in sincerity with enough young women who had invited him over for tea that he could have done it in his sleep. It was refreshing to be able to gently mock the social norms that had plagued his life for the past year and more.

He held out his elaborately dainty, tastefully gilded teacup for her to tip the flask over and nodded as graciously as he ever had to being served from a teapot. When they had all been served, and taken decidedly delicate sips of the burning, and surprisingly good, liqueur he broke character enough to smile, not quite laughing, but it was in his eyes to do so.

The butler returned to refresh the pot gone cold with a fresh piping one before retreating once again.

Stefan declined the offer of actual tea, preferring his beverage as it was, and settled back into his chair. Striking a pose setting his tone to one of exaggerated sophistication he asked,

"How have you been, Miss Angevin? Well, I hope. The weather has been rather seasonably warm, don't you think?" The number of conversations he'd had about the weather over a tea table could fill a very boring book so he threw the comment out hoping it might get Delia to also break in some small way from their facade conversation.
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Eitan Angevin
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Letters: https://ransera.com/viewtopic.php?f=105&t=2425

But it was Eitan who riposted with mock severity. "Sir. Do not speak so familiarly to my sister, if you please."

Delia fanned herself and made noises of feminine distress, but the siblings were laughing within five seconds. The butler hid a smile and left them to their banter.

"Eitan Angevin, my hero," she said, snickering into her teacup. "I'm just glad we've been through this enough times that I know you'll accept and likely prefer the whiskey, Stefan."

"It requires a stiff drink to stomach you, Delia."

"I knew we ought to have drowned you in the river when Father brought you home."

"You wound me."

"I don't use you for target practice any longer."

The dance of disdain was a bit different than the Dornkirk relationship, but then it was a different family with a different history. It hadn't always been so chummy between them, but they seemed quite close as adults.

She turned a sincere, understated smile upon Stefan. "I'm glad Zaichaer's clime is so temperate given these dresses."

"At this point, shouldn't you be trying to make him think of you without your dress?" Eitan asked archly.

"You are the worst chaperone, Eitan."

"I was hoping to disappoint your mother again before supper."

"Your one true excellence."

"I'm sorry, Stef," Eitan said. "She's supposed to be a lady, but... as you can see..." The youngest Angevin raised his teacup and sipped his whiskey just as they did, and Delia didn't reply—yet. They were trying to put Stefan at ease; they both knew he wasn't generally at ease in social settings. Delia was fairly certain she could complement his strengths with hers, though, and both support him in necessary social situations and otherwise deflect.
word count: 314
Mind is a razor blade.
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Stefan Dornkirk
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Title: Lord Dornkirk
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Character Sheet: https://ransera.com/viewtopic.php?f=43&t=1465
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?t=4478

The Angevin's guest sat back in the comfortable chair they had directed him to, which he assumed was so comfortable for the benefit of Lady Perpetua, not himself, and let the scene before him pass unmolested by his interference. Thinking back he could not recall if he'd ever seen Eitan and Delia interacting one-on-one like this. He had seen them together, of course, but typically under the watchful eye of their father, or at least, Delia's mother. They had not seemed so comfortably close as children, not in his recollection, but then Stefan himself had not been close to the bastard of Angevin in his childhood.

Perhaps it took a level of maturity to recognize the qualities of the youngest of Leir's children, or, perhaps, the civilizing influence of being given a proper upbringing and education had tempered the qualities unfitting within Eitan. Either way, Delia and Stefan now seemed quite charmed by the man who might someday be brother to them both.

Quick, faux-cruelty was not Stefan's forte. Even when he did trade teasing insults with Brenner it was usually at a leisurely pace, so he kept his silence and sipped his 'tea' a little more loudly than was strictly required to add his own humor to the situation. One eyebrow did shoot up at the allusion to nudity, and he covered a flush by finish the last of his libations. After a moment of comfortable quiet, he set the cup down and said,

"We have been through this, haven't we?" He met Delia's eyes with his serious ones, even if the levity of the meeting had set them to sparkling,
"Always at the behest of our elders though, as I recall. I must admit, though it may shock you, that, on this occasion, Lord and Lady Dornkirk aren't even aware that I'm here."

He allowed his duet of hosts to respond to his revelation before going on,
"I needed to find out who I was before I could offer myself, with any sense of honor, to an honorable young woman. Now, I'm afraid, all chance of that has gone, so, here I am."

The subtle restatement of Eitan's teasing of his sister was delivered well at first, but quickened at the end, as if he feared actually offending the object of his intention and his eyes darted between the two Angevin's to see how his own attempt at humor landed.
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Eitan Angevin
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Letters: https://ransera.com/viewtopic.php?f=105&t=2425

"Why, Mister Dornkirk," she said, "are you offering yourself to me?"

Eitan was laughing quietly at Stefan's humor. He appreciated that the elder Dornkirk brother made an effort to join in such things even though it wasn't entirely within his comfort zone. He looked away, out the window of the solarium toward Trystan's Folly, affording the possible courters a modicum of privacy. That allowed Delia to smile, softening her arch question; this smile, at least, was only for Stefan.

"For what it may be worth," she continued, voice soft but sure, "I always did look favorably upon your suit. I am touched that you are finally here of your own volition, and, if you come in earnest, I will earnestly pay heed. Playing the available bachelorette has betimes been amusing, but I do tire of it. I would rather discuss things plainly with you and come to an accord rather than rely upon our mercurial parents."

Pretending to be entirely unaware of what was being said in his presence, Eitan topped off everyone's teacup, then stood and wandered toward the floor-to-ceiling windows to search the grounds for something to distract his attention. That would be difficult given his training, but he could at least make the effort. He was only there so nobody could claim that anything remiss happened, but neither Stefan nor Delia were adolescents keen to rip each other's clothes to shreds.

"If it would make you more comfortable to let me broach the subject, I will. Nobody but those of us in this room would know that we subverted the traditional order of things." She sipped her "tea." Perhaps it was the "tea" that made spots of color bloom on her cheeks. Or perhaps she had made certain decisions about her life and was finally making a play for what she wanted and knew there would always be an element of a gamble in it.
word count: 339
Mind is a razor blade.
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Stefan Dornkirk
Posts: 413
Joined: Sun Mar 28, 2021 9:15 pm
Title: Lord Dornkirk
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Character Sheet: https://ransera.com/viewtopic.php?f=43&t=1465
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?t=4478

As unlikely as it might seem, Stefan appeared to be keeping up with the quippy conversation. Even amusing, dare he imagine, charming, his hosts?
He was well aware of the fact that, had they chosen to do so, the two youngest of the Angevin brood could have run circles around him. The fact that they were choosing not to said things beyond what was being spoken, until they were spoken.

Delia's openness had always been one of, if not the chief thing, that had drawn Stefan to her, as a child, and now, as a man. When she gracefully turned the topic toward the obvious reason for his visit his features calmed but did not grow solemn.

"I always looked favorably on you, but never felt as though it were my suit. Now, well, we are not children, and our chooses are," He gave a small, apologetic smile, "If not entirely our own, at least we hold greater influence over them." He nodded, perhaps more enthusiastically than she was expressing at the mention of being tired of courting.

Sitting forward in a subconscious gesture of earnestness, as if he was reaching for something,

"I would that, yes, very much so. I have no mind for demuring or dancing around my intentions. I appreciate your candor and, if you will allow me, will offer my own." He waited till she gave him indication, by nod or look, that he should go on before he spoke again. Taking a sip of what, he realized, really did look like tea, to shore up his courage he continued.

"It is my intention to be married by the beginning of the coming season, and there is no one I would willingly enter into that state with but you." Delia would know what he had to offer, possibly better than he himself did, so he did not beleaguer the conversation by listing his assets as was often expected in such circumstances.
"If you would agree to meet with me, for walks or whatever activities should please you, so that we could speak of what is expected," He paused, now embarrassed some but determined, "and wanted, and needed to make a successful union I would be grateful for both your time and the same candor you've always used with me."

Stefan stopped there, having laid out his intentions and request, allowing her time to consider her answer without the interruption of professions or desire or promises of happiness.
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Eitan Angevin
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Letters: https://ransera.com/viewtopic.php?f=105&t=2425

"Dear Stefan," she said with a smile utterly unlike those she wore like masks at parties. Her eyes were warm upon him, familiar without being demanding.

"If you wish to be married by the beginning of the season, we ought to decide here and now. Then, when things are decided, we can take a walk on the grounds, Eitan trailing behind us like the dutiful puppy he is, and then, when we stand where we can be seen from Mother's window, you can kneel and submit your verbal contract, and then I will verbally accept."

She sipped her "tea."

"I've known you since we were children and I have had to consider the possibility of a life with you for some time. I have never considered that possibility to be an unhappy one. I know there isn't some great passion between us, but I do believe that our affection would deepen over time and that we would make for good partners. These marriages among our caste are predicated upon the desire to move wealth and influence along bloodlines. So be it. If I have your respect, esteem, and affection and you accept mine, then I don't see any impediment to our union. I will share my life with you if you wish it. I will celebrate your successes with you, mourn your losses, and raise a family with you if you will do me the same courtesy.

"A marriage based on frankness, honesty, and affection ought to have a firm foundation, don't you think?"

At the window, Eitan smiled into his teacup, his feet mentally walking the route they would take from here to the gardens and where they would be best framed for Friederike to witness the formal proposal. He did hope Stefan would at least give her a chaste kiss on the mouth afterward, and then Eitan was likely to buzz with excitement all the way into the shade where he might embrace the both of them with more passion than they had for each other. He understood what they were saying to each other. He hoped for something equally candid with some beautiful human woman someday, though he wasn't as cold-blooded as Stefan when it came to women.
word count: 392
Mind is a razor blade.
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Stefan Dornkirk
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Title: Lord Dornkirk
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The term of endearment had the elder man flushed, faint, and high on his cheeks, but he kept his gaze steady as the woman before him planned the first step into their future. It sat well with him, letting her arrange social things so smoothly, Empire knew he could not. A marriage built on the mutual respect of partners who shored up each other's weak points and supported each other's strengths seemed the only good kind that could be, for Stefan.

"Thank you for understanding, you are good." He would have bowed and kissed her hand in gratitude but it felt odd with both of them seated. " I always looked comfortably on the prospect of you being the one chosen for me, as I never have with anyone else." Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to both her company and the knowledge that they would be together, but he suspected there was more to it than that. "I agree, entirely, and on the understanding of starting with frankness and honesty; there are things that you should know, about me and the reason for my haste, before you make any commitment. You know my family and my circumstances, so I shan't sport with your intelligence by listing what I have to offer. It's more... what I can't offer that I respect you too much to ask you to marry me without you understanding."

He glanced down at his own hands, folded in his lap, and then over at Eitan in his staunch pose of not listening.

"Perhaps a walk would be the best thing. If you hear what I have to say and still wish to go forward I will happily kneel before you under the eyes of your Lady mother, if not we can shake hands and part as friends without anyone knowing the nature of this visit."

If Delia was not willing to accept the issues that came with a life bound to Stefan then the last thing he wanted was to taint what prospects she might look on with a more favorable eye. Standing carefully he straightened his jacket and offered her his arm. When she rose to take it he tried not to think about how right it felt, the two of them walking together out the open glass doors into the bright garden. Even something about Eitan walking a sedate half dozen paces behind felt comfortable and fitting.

When they were far enough from the house that it was unlikely any of the staff might overhear them he led the way to a bower of climbing vines that made a kind of shaded tunnel and paused. Turning to face his intended he spoke quietly, earnestly, a little crease marring the space between his brows.

"First, I would like you to know that of all the women of my acquaintance I respect and esteem you the most. How you manage to glide through the shark-infested waters of our society without losing either your integrity or your sanity, I know not. How you manage to keep your grace and humor throughout I can only marvel at. I know you must be as painfully away of my own shortcomings in that regard as I am."

He paused, taking a slow breath as though steeling himself before going on.

"Though I do think better of you than any other Lady, even my own mother, I can not say I feel more than friendly affection. I don't know if I know how to love, or if I am only very slow to come to it. It is said that love comes to some marriages slowly, and I hope that it will be so for me but I've never found myself touched by those feelings which most boys begin to harbor as they grow to manhood.

"If you want a union with a man who worships you, I could not blame you, but I, myself can not. I seek a communion of equals." He let that sit for a moment, let her answer is she would, then continued,
"I can not worship my wife and I do not want a wife who simply obeys me. I need a woman of her own mind who I can compromise with for the greater good of our relationship and, hopefully, our children. I expect to continue my work, with which I can be, admittedly, obsessive and I wouldn't want to disappoint a woman who wants to be always with her husband. I would want you to have your own life filled with whatever you wish it to be, hobbies, or works which I can support and show interest in but which will belong entirely to you.

"This is the nature of the life I want to lead or share. That is the first thing. The second is that I shall, after the turn of the season be undertaking a dangerous journey, for the State, of which I can say nothing except that there is no certainty of my returning, alive or otherwise. I would set aside a will leaving all my possessions and considerable wealth to you in the case of my failing to return or perishing. Brenner would, of course, become the heir unless you found yourself to be with child, but you would be left very well off, able to be independent for the rest of your days should you choose."

It was most certainly the longest speech Delia would ever have heard from the elder Dornkirk brother and he seemed to finish abruptly, like no more words were inside him, leaving him to stand, waiting patiently to hear of the fate of his proposal.
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Eitan Angevin
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Delia smiled when she made a blush bepaint his cheeks, though when she teased him, it was more like the brush of gentle fingers than the barbs she traded with Eitan. She took his arm happily as Eitan held the door for them and followed them out into the gardens. He thought things were going well, though he hoped they decided soon so they could return for more celebratory "tea." But he did want them to do things in a manner that was right for them, the better to find a path for their life that was sure and true.

The thought of their union made him a touch emotional. He wanted his family joined with the Dornkirks, and he was certain Delia and Stefan would be happy together.

In the shade of the bower, he turned toward her and she caught his hands if she couldn't hold his arm. Her grip was loose in case he wanted to escape, but she wanted to build upon their familiarity. She listened soberly, nodding her understanding from point to point.

Finally, "As I said, if I have your friendship, esteem, and respect, and if you treat me with the honor due a wife and a citizen of the High City, then I would not want to be worshiped as some hubristic goddess. If your love comes, I would welcome it. If you find that you have found love with another, I would want you to come to me in honesty and we would discuss it. I wouldn't want to obey you, though I would enjoy your advice when I have difficult decisions to be made. And I would not undermine you in front of others. My husband's reputation will be intimately entwined with my own.

"If I don't incite passion, we will figure out the begetting of heirs. But if we are friends and confidants, partners and spouses, I do think we would make a formidable pair." Her smile quirked with faint humor. "I am amenable to your terms. Is there anything else you would like to say or ask before we put on a little show for Mother and make Eitan cry like a little boy with a skinned knee?"

There came a scoff from a ways off.
word count: 395
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Stefan Dornkirk
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Stefan's flush intensified significantly at the indication that Eitan had heard all he'd confessed. His hands tightened on Delia's in a moment of brief panic at the things he had admitted, mind beginning to race towards exploration of all that might come of his friend hearing his shortcomings laid out so bare. Taking hold of himself he made the trains of thought attempting to take him over fall away to motes of shimmering shame to be picked up and examined at a later time.

Looking down he realized she was holding his hands tighter as well, then up, to see the intention to comfort him in her eyes. He blinked, slowly, feeling somewhat of an idiot and quite a bit of something else he didn't understand. Releasing one of her hands, he now did bow over the one he still had and kissed it, solemnly, in gratitude for things he could not say.

"Thank you." He finally said, a little hoarsely and in a quieter voice than he'd used in his declarations. "You have my friendship, esteem, respect, and a great deal of gratitude. I will honor you, in any way I can." These things he said while meeting her steady eyes, lowering them for what came after.

"I do not see myself ever seeking the intimate company of another woman. While I do not profess to be without experience those encounters which I have had were..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably before inserting, "Not personal, and I can easily promise you never to seek out such again. If I am mistaken and at some point find myself in need of things that you can not, or do not wish to provide me I will discuss them with you before seeking their relief."

He met her eyes again, expression, if anything, more serious and determined than ever, "If you find yourself in need of the company of others, I would ask that you also let us discuss it beforehand and wait until such a time as we have produced an heir." He grimaced a little at the cold-sounding way the term came out. "Forgive me, I know you understand these things and are probably a good deal more comfortable with them than I am. I do want children, as many as you would like to give me, but if you would prefer to only try until we have a boy I would be quite content with that. The thought of you in more discomfort or danger than you choose to be in would distress me.

I believe we would both be discreet in our fulfillment and I would support yours with whomever you choose."

He trusted her not to pick a lover that would bring shame or illness into their household and felt no need to comment on such unpleasantness. Nothing else came to mind to discuss that could not wait until after they were trothed and could spend time discussing details in more, relative, private. Taking her arm onto his again, he placing the hand of the arm not now supporting her over her hand where it rested on his arm so that they walked in a way not to be mistaken for anything but intimate, he let her lead him to the windows from which her matronly mother might espy them.

The scene they put on was better acted on her part, but perhaps his masculine discomfort was to be expected and thus added its own reality to their little performance. Lady Angevine could be seen, intimidating as ever, through the wide windows of the upper story so there was no worry they might have to repeat the show. When he stood, Eitan stopped lurking and came forward to congratulate them, and by the time they made their way back to the house the Lady herself had appeared in the grand hallway to meet them. Delia beamed, and, to even his own surprise, so did Stefan.
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