ysabara
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2007
- Messages
- 104
A little bit more....again, your comments will be graciously received. 
Myrissa tilted her head to one side, watching him. In the moonlight his spiky, fair hair seemed almost silver, the contrast with his dark eyebrows and black eyes more pronounced than it had been in the brightly lit ballroom. His skin was pale, so different to Luis’s golden flesh or her own dusky colouring. Realising she was staring at him, Myrissa lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.
“Syr Cabrini,” she said.
“Ross.”
She looked up at him again. He smiled.
“Call me Ross, Donna Alvarez.”
“Then you must call me Myrissa,” she replied automatically.
“I’m honoured,” he said dryly.
She drank some more wine, finishing what was left in the first bottle and wondering if she could approach him about Brasada. She decided on an indirect attack; some casual conversation, a bit more wine. She’d soften him up, she could sense his interest in her and although she wouldn’t encourage him there was no reason why she couldn’t make use of it and when he was relaxed, slip under his guard.
“Did you enjoy the ball?” she asked.
He gave a soft snort of laughter.
“Oh, immeasurably,” he said. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
“You seemed to enjoy the dancing,” Myrissa said slyly and he laughed again. “I don’t think Donna Sarilla has ever danced a picano quite like that before.”
He bowed.” I am famous for my picano.”
“Famous? Or infamous?”
Ross grinned, another flash of white teeth, then shook his head. “She’s a cold bitch, that one. Poor Nicky.”
Myrissa started. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice sounding strange and strained to her ears.
“Are you all right Donna?” Ross took a step towards her but she held up her hand.
“Nicky?” she asked.
“Dominic Santorro – Nicky. I was speaking of his wife. Are you sure you’re alright? That wine can be rather strong if you’re not used to it.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
Reaching out she snatched the bottle of wine from his hands. Their fingers touched and she saw Cabrini’s eyes widen. He released the bottle so suddenly that she almost dropped it. For a moment he stared at her. She could see a pulse beating hard in the hollow of his throat. Then he stepped back.
Myrissa wished she could see his face more clearly. She wanted to see if he was as unsettled as she was. Chiding herself for being so foolish she took another swig of wine. What she really wanted to know was why her husband was laying in the room next door, muttering Dominic Santorro’s name in his sleep.
“You were at Brasada with Luis, weren’t you. You and Douc Santorro.”
She sensed him stiffen and draw away from her, just as Luis always did and it infuriated her.
“Why won’t anyone talk about it?” she demanded.
Ross turned his back and gazed down at the street below.
“Why don’t you ask Luis about Brasada?”
“Because he won’t talk about it,” she ground out.
“Then why the hell should I?” Ross said coldly.
Myrissa could see the tension in his back; that invisible wall that Luis was so good at erecting was evident here as well. She was tired of trying to breach it, Luis and Syr Rossarian Cabrini could stay in their little self imposed hells and rot. She rose from her chair and went to climb back over the railing to her own balcony when Ross’ soft voice stopped her.
“Myrissa. Maybe Luis hasn’t told you anything because he doesn’t think you’ll believe him.”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened at Brasada… It’s not…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Madre knows, I wish I could just forget it all.” He gave her a twisted smile. “Think on this. Maybe Luis hasn’t told you because…”
Whatever he had been about to say was cut short as Luis screamed from the room next door, a hoarse desperate cry that shattered the night. Myrissa lunged over the railing. Ross followed her. Luis screamed again as she tore the curtains open, letting the moonlight into the darkened room. He lay curled into a ball in the centre of the bed. Myrissa ran to his side and gathered him into her arms.
“Sshh, sweetheart,” she soothed. “Sshh, it’s only a dream.”
Luis was trembling, his skin damp with sweat. Myrissa heard Ross at the table beside the bed, striking a flint. He lit the lantern and the shadows in the room receded. Luis eyes were dazed and unfocussed.
“You left me in the dark. You left me in the dark,” he said over and over but Myrissa didn’t think he was speaking to her. She glanced up at Ross, who only looked down at her without expression. She continued to stroke Luis’s hair. After a few minutes she felt him relax, the confusion clearing from his face.
“Myrissa,” he whispered and laid his head in her lap like an exhausted child. In another moment he was asleep.
Myrissa looked up at Ross again. “Tell me about Brasada,” she begged him. “How can I help him if I don’t know what happened?”
He closed his eyes. Myrissa could see a muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he opened his eyes again and spoke in a hoarse voice.
“You talk about Brasada as though it’s in the past, but it’s not, don’t you see? Brasada isn’t the past. It’s now.” His voice dropped so low she could scarcely hear him. “It’s forever.”
He took a step towards her. ”You stupid little girl. You’re so far out of your depth here…” He closed his eyes and drew a ragged breath. “You should pack up and run, as fast and as far as you can. Forget Luis. Forget Brasada. Forget it all before it kills you…like it’s killed all of us.”
Myrissa sat staring up at him in terrified incomprehension. Drawing a finger down her cheek, he straightened up and this time when he spoke his voice had returned to the dry, mocking tone he had used earlier in the night.
“I’m sorry. I frightened you. Forgive me. Perhaps I’m the one who has found the wine too strong.” He gave a crooked smile and turned away. When he reached the door he stopped and spoke again, softly.”
“We thought Brasada was finished with us, but we were wrong. Madre help us, we were wrong.”
He left Myrissa with Luis’s sleeping weight in her lap, trembling in the darkness and understanding even less than she had before.
Ross returned to his room and stood there, overcome by a fit of violent shivering. He’d scared her and he hadn’t meant to, even if she needed to be scared. He couldn’t afford to let his mask slip, none of them could, not even for an instant. He had felt the Inquisitor’s gaze on him tonight and had almost failed to play his part. Luis had always been the one they had to watch. He wasn’t strong enough for this, he never had been and Nicky’s weakness was Luis. Ross had to be strong enough for them all and it seemed more and more that he wasn’t up to the task.
He balled his hands into fists and willed his body into submission. The shivering ceased. He glanced out the window. The moon rode low in the sky. It would be dawn in a few hours. Another sleepless night. The ennui he had felt earlier was gone. Deciding that he would go out and satisfy at least one of his body’s cravings he pulled off his cotton trousers and dressed himself in the black suit he had worn earlier.
He made his way out of the inn and through the deserted streets to the docks. Even at this hour the bawdy houses were still open, red lanterns hanging at the doors. He chose one at random and entered. A sleepy porter let him in the door and then returned with two women in tow, one fair and one dark. He hesitated before choosing the fair one. Her brassy blonde hair had obviously come out of a bottle, he could see the dark roots at her crown. She was plump and buxom, nothing like Myrissa Alvarez which he realised was a good thing. He could feel sexual energy and violence thrumming through his body, thought he might have more control over himself if the woman beneath him looked nothing like her. He was wrong.
He followed the whore down a garishly painted hallway to a room with a bed whose sheets had obviously done a hard nights work; the room stank of stale sweat and sex. He closed the door and the whore turned to him with a practised smile. She dropped the tawdry robe she had been wearing to the floor and came to stand in front of him.
“How do you want it?” she enquired archly, running her fingers down his chest to his groin. She stroked him and he closed his eyes and pushed against her hand.
“What are you offering?” he rasped.
For a gentleman like yourself…anything,” she purred. She took his hand and tried to lead him toward the bed but he resisted.
I’m sorry, Ross wanted to say. Instead he lifted his hand and swung it in a back swipe that knocked her to the ground.
“Please sir,” she whimpered. “Don’t hurt me. I’m a good girl.”
“Then we have a problem,” Ross said as he undid his trousers and knelt down beside her. There was fear in her eyes, but there was desire too. It sickened him even as it aroused him
“You see,” he said. “I am not a good boy”
Myrissa tilted her head to one side, watching him. In the moonlight his spiky, fair hair seemed almost silver, the contrast with his dark eyebrows and black eyes more pronounced than it had been in the brightly lit ballroom. His skin was pale, so different to Luis’s golden flesh or her own dusky colouring. Realising she was staring at him, Myrissa lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.
“Syr Cabrini,” she said.
“Ross.”
She looked up at him again. He smiled.
“Call me Ross, Donna Alvarez.”
“Then you must call me Myrissa,” she replied automatically.
“I’m honoured,” he said dryly.
She drank some more wine, finishing what was left in the first bottle and wondering if she could approach him about Brasada. She decided on an indirect attack; some casual conversation, a bit more wine. She’d soften him up, she could sense his interest in her and although she wouldn’t encourage him there was no reason why she couldn’t make use of it and when he was relaxed, slip under his guard.
“Did you enjoy the ball?” she asked.
He gave a soft snort of laughter.
“Oh, immeasurably,” he said. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
“You seemed to enjoy the dancing,” Myrissa said slyly and he laughed again. “I don’t think Donna Sarilla has ever danced a picano quite like that before.”
He bowed.” I am famous for my picano.”
“Famous? Or infamous?”
Ross grinned, another flash of white teeth, then shook his head. “She’s a cold bitch, that one. Poor Nicky.”
Myrissa started. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice sounding strange and strained to her ears.
“Are you all right Donna?” Ross took a step towards her but she held up her hand.
“Nicky?” she asked.
“Dominic Santorro – Nicky. I was speaking of his wife. Are you sure you’re alright? That wine can be rather strong if you’re not used to it.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
Reaching out she snatched the bottle of wine from his hands. Their fingers touched and she saw Cabrini’s eyes widen. He released the bottle so suddenly that she almost dropped it. For a moment he stared at her. She could see a pulse beating hard in the hollow of his throat. Then he stepped back.
Myrissa wished she could see his face more clearly. She wanted to see if he was as unsettled as she was. Chiding herself for being so foolish she took another swig of wine. What she really wanted to know was why her husband was laying in the room next door, muttering Dominic Santorro’s name in his sleep.
“You were at Brasada with Luis, weren’t you. You and Douc Santorro.”
She sensed him stiffen and draw away from her, just as Luis always did and it infuriated her.
“Why won’t anyone talk about it?” she demanded.
Ross turned his back and gazed down at the street below.
“Why don’t you ask Luis about Brasada?”
“Because he won’t talk about it,” she ground out.
“Then why the hell should I?” Ross said coldly.
Myrissa could see the tension in his back; that invisible wall that Luis was so good at erecting was evident here as well. She was tired of trying to breach it, Luis and Syr Rossarian Cabrini could stay in their little self imposed hells and rot. She rose from her chair and went to climb back over the railing to her own balcony when Ross’ soft voice stopped her.
“Myrissa. Maybe Luis hasn’t told you anything because he doesn’t think you’ll believe him.”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened at Brasada… It’s not…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Madre knows, I wish I could just forget it all.” He gave her a twisted smile. “Think on this. Maybe Luis hasn’t told you because…”
Whatever he had been about to say was cut short as Luis screamed from the room next door, a hoarse desperate cry that shattered the night. Myrissa lunged over the railing. Ross followed her. Luis screamed again as she tore the curtains open, letting the moonlight into the darkened room. He lay curled into a ball in the centre of the bed. Myrissa ran to his side and gathered him into her arms.
“Sshh, sweetheart,” she soothed. “Sshh, it’s only a dream.”
Luis was trembling, his skin damp with sweat. Myrissa heard Ross at the table beside the bed, striking a flint. He lit the lantern and the shadows in the room receded. Luis eyes were dazed and unfocussed.
“You left me in the dark. You left me in the dark,” he said over and over but Myrissa didn’t think he was speaking to her. She glanced up at Ross, who only looked down at her without expression. She continued to stroke Luis’s hair. After a few minutes she felt him relax, the confusion clearing from his face.
“Myrissa,” he whispered and laid his head in her lap like an exhausted child. In another moment he was asleep.
Myrissa looked up at Ross again. “Tell me about Brasada,” she begged him. “How can I help him if I don’t know what happened?”
He closed his eyes. Myrissa could see a muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he opened his eyes again and spoke in a hoarse voice.
“You talk about Brasada as though it’s in the past, but it’s not, don’t you see? Brasada isn’t the past. It’s now.” His voice dropped so low she could scarcely hear him. “It’s forever.”
He took a step towards her. ”You stupid little girl. You’re so far out of your depth here…” He closed his eyes and drew a ragged breath. “You should pack up and run, as fast and as far as you can. Forget Luis. Forget Brasada. Forget it all before it kills you…like it’s killed all of us.”
Myrissa sat staring up at him in terrified incomprehension. Drawing a finger down her cheek, he straightened up and this time when he spoke his voice had returned to the dry, mocking tone he had used earlier in the night.
“I’m sorry. I frightened you. Forgive me. Perhaps I’m the one who has found the wine too strong.” He gave a crooked smile and turned away. When he reached the door he stopped and spoke again, softly.”
“We thought Brasada was finished with us, but we were wrong. Madre help us, we were wrong.”
He left Myrissa with Luis’s sleeping weight in her lap, trembling in the darkness and understanding even less than she had before.
**********
He balled his hands into fists and willed his body into submission. The shivering ceased. He glanced out the window. The moon rode low in the sky. It would be dawn in a few hours. Another sleepless night. The ennui he had felt earlier was gone. Deciding that he would go out and satisfy at least one of his body’s cravings he pulled off his cotton trousers and dressed himself in the black suit he had worn earlier.
He made his way out of the inn and through the deserted streets to the docks. Even at this hour the bawdy houses were still open, red lanterns hanging at the doors. He chose one at random and entered. A sleepy porter let him in the door and then returned with two women in tow, one fair and one dark. He hesitated before choosing the fair one. Her brassy blonde hair had obviously come out of a bottle, he could see the dark roots at her crown. She was plump and buxom, nothing like Myrissa Alvarez which he realised was a good thing. He could feel sexual energy and violence thrumming through his body, thought he might have more control over himself if the woman beneath him looked nothing like her. He was wrong.
He followed the whore down a garishly painted hallway to a room with a bed whose sheets had obviously done a hard nights work; the room stank of stale sweat and sex. He closed the door and the whore turned to him with a practised smile. She dropped the tawdry robe she had been wearing to the floor and came to stand in front of him.
“How do you want it?” she enquired archly, running her fingers down his chest to his groin. She stroked him and he closed his eyes and pushed against her hand.
“What are you offering?” he rasped.
For a gentleman like yourself…anything,” she purred. She took his hand and tried to lead him toward the bed but he resisted.
I’m sorry, Ross wanted to say. Instead he lifted his hand and swung it in a back swipe that knocked her to the ground.
“Please sir,” she whimpered. “Don’t hurt me. I’m a good girl.”
“Then we have a problem,” Ross said as he undid his trousers and knelt down beside her. There was fear in her eyes, but there was desire too. It sickened him even as it aroused him
“You see,” he said. “I am not a good boy”
*****
