A Moment of Introspection (Locked to Verity)

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

Schön keeps an office in the Nexus, although he does most of his work outside it, an opulent retreat from the timeless bustle outside. Richly colorful Oriental rugs allow only glimpses of a polished oak floor. The desk is a monolith of mahogany, inlaid with accents of rosewood and teak, carved with reliefs of twining roots and branches, of fanciful creatures, and of faces peeking from among the leaves. The chairs before and behind the desk are upholstered in silk and buttery-soft leather, the one behind the desk tall and evocative of a throne.

The walls, papered in a deep Chinese red pinstriped with navy, are densely clustered with art in a dizzying array of styles; most are paintings, but a few cameos hang as well, and a Stradivarius enjoys pride of place over the mantle. Shelves behind the desk are similarly crowded with books and odd little knickknacks, the former rarely comprising the sort of orderly matched sets that tend to fill shelves behind desks in offices. To one side of the door stand a coat rack and a sideboard loaded with bottles of exotic libations, while to the opposite side stands a small table bearing several indistinct articles over which has been draped a gossamer shroud. Against one side wall sits an overstuffed couch, and in the opposite wall is set a fireplace, where a multicolored flame pops and crackles merrily, sending an occasional swirl of rainbow-colored sparks up the chimney.

The room has also been warded to a fare-thee-well, to keep out prying eyes and ears, ensuring that all which transpires within remains private. The wards, to an extent, even work both ways, for when the door is closed, all the noise from outside falls away.

Hanging up his hat and cane as he enters, Schön turns to offer a hand to escort Verity inside. "Please come in, Ms. Willis, and be seated comfortably. May I offer you anything to steady your nerves?"

Comments

[brave_heart_verity]

"Does it?" Don't let the sass fool you, she's totally blushing now. True compliments from him are precious things, and nobody's ever called her noble before.

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He nods, and gives her time to resolve her blush on her own.

[brave_heart_verity]

That's kind of him. She'll drift over to admire that painting again, the one painting that's caught her undivided attention in the sea of beauty she's drowning in.

"Where do I start?"

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He flows after her, joining her in appreciating the painting. "This makes a good start," he murmurs, after a long moment of letting her appreciate it in silence. "I might recommend you follow it with the fables of Aesop. And as you read them, from time to time recall that they are stories which were composed by a slave, to be told to the children of his master."

[brave_heart_verity]

She glances over at him when he speaks, smiling ruefully. "Children's stories? I suppose that's fair, I have a lot of catching up to do."

Then she looks back at the painting, nodding toward it with her chin. "Where'd you get it?"

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"We must walk before we run, run before we fly. And many of the lessons were subtle barbs at his master, as well--moral lessons that adults would do well to mind."

Ah, to the painting. "I bought it, on an Earth in its early twenty-first century. I had the good fortune to snap up the original. Not an exciting tale, I'm afraid."

[brave_heart_verity]

The idea that Schön thinks someone else needs a lesson in morals is pretty amusing, but she manages not to laugh. Just barely. There's a powerful release of breath that's not quite a snort. This is really a triumph of restraint for her.

She can't help but tease him though. She's just not that strong. "No Faustian bargains, no daring escape from Nazi bees, no chasing something across three continents? Geez. That's really disappointing."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

In Verity, victory. And in victory, Verity. She should be proud.

"I could tell you of the pieces I've rescued from the fires of conservative backlash against 'decadent influences,'" he offers, to counter her teasing, "if that would better suit."

[brave_heart_verity]

"That sounds more like you," she has to admit. "Decadent influences, though? Am I grown up enough to see that?"

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"Many of them are quite innocent," he assures her, "condemned more for the associations of their genre or creator than any actual sins of content." To be sure, he has plenty of those "sins of content" as well.

[brave_heart_verity]

"That was supposed to be a joke," she points out. "But it's your art. It's up to you what I get to see."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"Ah, of course." He's got less of a sense of humor when his fae side comes forth. Probably. "Let us linger on this one, for now. It seems to suit you."

[brave_heart_verity]

She's still not sure she's doing this whole 'telling jokes' things correctly, so she'll leave that part alone. "You think so? I guess that part looks sort of like my hair..."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"Is that why you like it?" he murmurs, teasing a little.

[brave_heart_verity]

"Yes," she deadpans. "I'm terribly vain you know."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He doesn't snerk. Moonlit princes of art and magic, wearing beauty like a crown and dignity like a cloak, do not snerk.

Loan sharks to the supernatural, on the other hand, can and do, and that's suddenly what's standing beside her, quite amused. "Oh, yes. So terribly vain. Shame, shame, Ms. Willis."

[brave_heart_verity]

The transition doesn't take her quite so much by surprise this time. "Yes, I'm terrible. Did I just sass the pretty knight away? That really would be a shame."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"One of the perils of sass," he counters wryly. "But I have the feeling you'll see him again."

[brave_heart_verity]

"You would know." About at least one of those things. "Thank you for trusting me. I won't tell anyone."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He chuckles at that. "Thank you. It's good to find my trust well-placed."

"You are not, I must admit, quite what I expected. From our initial meeting, I anticipated a much more antagonistic relationship. You seemed not to approve of my ways."

[brave_heart_verity]

"You're welcome."

She looks down for a moment, then shrugs. "'Nice' isn't really my default setting. It's hard for me to trust people."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"Nor is it mine," he admits. "But I begin to understand your reasons. Although I do find myself curious: for someone who has such difficulty finding anything in art, you have certainly forged an intimate tie with it." He nods to her arms, with the question implied.

[brave_heart_verity]

"Oh. I just. Think they're pretty." She gives a little shrug. "I like flowers."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"And the figures? The faces?"

[brave_heart_verity]

"I hired an artist to design them. Someone who did tattoos on a regular basis. There were some similar ones she'd done before that I liked. It's really not anything deep, Schön." She's a little sorry to disappoint him.