[Memory] Uncertain Citations

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Brunnhold's college town, located inside the university grounds.

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moralhazard
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Tue Sep 24, 2019 2:11 pm

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Jean De Silver's Apartment, the Stacks
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Uzoji paced back and forth on the sidewalk of the narrow, cramped street. He had never before been so aware of the Yaris heat; compared to Thul Ka, Brunnhold was practically chilly, even in the worst of the dry season. But today, somehow, he found himself sweating beneath the starched collar of his shirt. These godsdamned Anaxi clothes, Uzoji thought, pulling at the collar of his jacket and shirt with his fingers, turning to find a patch of late afternoon shade against the wall.

Uzoji glanced sideways at the doorway into the building, then back out at the street. He lowered his hands to his sides, clenched them into fists, inhaled and exhaled, finding a semblance of something like self-control. It was hard – it was damned hard – but, flood the Circle, Niccolette seemed to have a way of getting beneath his skin that he could not help.

The worst of it, Uzoji thought, was that he would have said everything was fine. Niccolette had been flooding glad to see him when he’d returned on the thirtieth; he’d come straight to her, as he’d promised, even though he’d been half-delirious from lack of sleep and flying for a dozen hours straight. Straight to her, and they’d made it worth every moment; he hadn’t regretted it for a godsdamned second. And of all the things he had thought to worry about with his beautiful, sharp, and devastatingly direct girlfriend, it hadn’t been that she was hiding something from him.

Uzoji gritted his teeth again; he clenched his hands back into fists. Hulali’s tits, but it was flooding hot!

Niccolette was capable of a great many things; Uzoji was well aware of it. They’d had dinner together on the thirty sixth, hadn’t they? And she’d smiled and she’d laughed and she’d – just like any other day, Uzoji thought, his jaw clenched so tightly he felt the strain up through his temples. And the next godsdamned night, to hear from Erhue that she’d been crying at some flooding old Gioran in Blessings of Hulali’s the weekend before – covered in dirt, no less – to hear Erhue tell it, crying and laughing all at once, Circle flood it all –

Uzoji took another deep breath. He loosened his fists, shaking his hands out, and flexed his fingers. He straightened his jacket, and ran his hand over his face. Calmly, he thought. Calmly. It hadn’t been hard to track Jean De Silver down; he had something of a reputation, it seemed. A rake, Uzoji thought, bitterly. Fine. He had known the moment he saw Niccolette that he would do anything for her; he had never felt less since. He had known, too, that his days of fighting for her were not over – but he had, Uzoji thought bitterly, at least thought they were on the same godsbedamned team!

The one thing he had not been able to bring himself to do was to ask her about it. In a few short hours they were to meet up for the night; in a few short hours, he would have to face her. He had not – he could not bear it. He had asked her, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he asked how her weekend had been? He must have. He couldn’t think what she’d said. Had she lied to him, outright? Uzoji thought he might be sick at the thought.

No, Uzoji thought, the time for deliberation was over. He’d charted his course, and he’d sail it, one way or another. He would get the answers he needed, and he would sort out what he’d done wrong, and Niccolette would love him – as she had before. She couldn’t have stopped; she couldn’t have! He would have known, wouldn’t he?

Uzoji banished the thoughts, taking a deep breath and carefully unclenching his jaw, running his tongue along the edges of his aching teeth. Calm, he thought. Calm. He turned and walked into the building; he went straight to the door of this so-called Jean De Silver, and knocked, a polite, even rapping. He stepped back, and smiled as best as he could manage, a polite, neutral sort of smile.

“Good evening,” Uzoji would bow politely when the door opened. The Mugrobi was small, but he held himself like a man who knew how to use his size, and the cut of his clothing hid more than a little muscle; his perfectly shaved head gleamed in the faint light of the hallway. He had a pleasant Mugrobi accent, light but distinctive, a musical sort of lilt to his Estuan, and he folded his hands behind his back, standing perfectly upright. “I’m looking for Mr. Jean De Silver.”

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Genevieve De Silver
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Tue Sep 24, 2019 7:46 pm

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Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Cadoc Murphy was sat in the small kitchen of Jean De Silver’s apparemment in the Stacks. He was polishing boots and whistling an old song as he worked, his employer Genevive De Silver was sat in the oak paneled living room reading the paper and smoking a cigar, with a glass of Giorian brandy.

When the knock came Cadoc looked up from the boot and scowled lightly, it wasn't unusual Mr De Silver to receive callers, however they normally sent word first.

He stood, cleaned his hands on a cloth and pulled on his grey waistcoat and buttoned it as he walked to open the door.

He looked the galdor gentleman at the up and down and said, his tone polite. This galdor had the look and the accent of a Mugrobi.

"“Good evening sir, and who should I say is asking for him?”

Behind him Geneveie had stood up from her comfortable armchair, she wore a green silk dressing gown over black trousers, a shirt of blue linen and black slippers. She dropped the new sheet on the low table and placed her cigar in a crystal ashtray beside.

“Who is at the door Cadoc?”

Without taking his eyes from the galdor on the doorstep he called back.

“A Murgrobi gentleman, here to see you Mr De Silver.”

'A Murgrobi gentleman?'She thought to herself. ‘Who on could.. ah.’

“Show the gentleman in Cadoc, I believe I know who it is.”


She took another sip from her brandy glass and place on hand on the back of her armchair. If this was who she thought it was, then this would be an interesting meeting.





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moralhazard
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Tue Sep 24, 2019 8:49 pm

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Jean De Silver's Apartment, the Stacks
Uzoji took a deep breath, drawing himself up to make proper introductions to the butler; before he could speak, however, he heard a light voice from further in the apartment. Uzoji’s hands clenched lightly behind his back, and loosened again, and he stood silent through the exchange, doing his best not to let the tension racing through him show. He swallowed hard at the instruction to the butler to show him inside, and inclined his head in a polite nod.

“Thank you,” Uzoji said, stepping past the butler into the apartment. He did not remove his long-cut brown coat; beneath it, he wore a tan waistcoat, a crisp white shirt, and dark pants – all Anaxi in style, with nothing but the faintest concession to Mugrobi fashion in the colors. His field was heavy with mingled physical and static mona, and it pulsed, almost involuntarily, when he saw Jean.

Uzoji stepped into the room, slowly; he looked from the cigar to the paper, then to the galdor standing before him in his dressing gown. His jaw clenched, then softened again, and he brought himself a step further – not too close to Jean, but close enough to feel the strange wash of quantitative mona in his field. He held his own away, fighting hard to remain indectal.

Uzoji swallowed, hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Sir,” He said, and bowed again, as deeply as he had at the door. “I am Uzoji pez Okorie,” he held still and upright, swallowing once more. “I have come to ask you a question, and I would charge you to answer with honesty.” In Mugroba, such a thing would not even need to be said; in Mugroba –

He had charted his course, Uzoji promised himself. He would know the truth; he would face it, no matter how painful, with honor and dignity, and he would do whatever needed to be done. He would settle this, like a man, and he would find the strength to go and face Niccolette afterwards.

The silence stretched on a moment, and then another. Uzoji waited until he was sure that he could speak without shaking or faltering; he would not rush and demean himself more than this question already did.

“What were you doing with Niccolette Villamarzana last eight?” Uzoji asked, his dark eyes settled squarely on Jean. He enunciated each word slowly and carefully, and if his throat felt tight, it did not show in his voice. He did not hesitate, not even on Niccolette’s name, and he ignored the way it seemed to curl in his chest, the odd happiness that it brought to him even now.

He was not such a fool as to give away what he knew, though; it had not taken Uzoji long to learn that he could not expect honesty from Anaxi (or Gioran) the way he could from Mugrobi. He had learned that lesson at Thul’Amat, long before he had come to Brunnhold, but there at least a man, or woman, would be ashamed to lie. Here, he knew, many sold their honor with nothing to gain from it. No; he would see what Jean De Silver said, now, and from it, Uzoji would know him.

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Genevieve De Silver
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Wed Sep 25, 2019 10:34 am

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Genevive surveyed the gentleman as he entered her living room, there was a tension about the man, a coiled readiness. She would have to be careful about how she handled this. When he introduced himself Genevieve's suspicious were confirmed, this was Uzoji, Niccolette’s partner.

She had been thinking about Niccolette early that day and had decided to give her some leeway regarding her class, she would hate to stand in the way of an otherwise promising future. She would need to think on it more, later. Right now however there was a more pressing matter. At Uzoji’s question she nodded, understanding dawning, so that is why he had come.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr Okorie, please sit down. Would you care for a glass of brandy?

Genevieve sat back down in her armchair, left leg crossed casually over the right.

“So last eights, I met Miss Villamarzana at bar, she was in need of a light and we fell to talking. She is a very smart woman and she knows her own mind. As I am sure you know Mr Okorie.”


She had decided that honesty was the best way to proceed, well honest to a point, after all the man was here to see Jean De Silver after all.

“She spoke of you in fact. But yes, we talked and drank.”

She took a sip of her brandy.

“Somehow we found ourselves discussing duelling and prize fights.”

Genevieve took a drag from her cigar and blew smoke towards the ceiling. Her tone was matter of fact.

“We attended a prize fight, then concluded the evening at a coffee house where we parted company.”

She studied the man’s face, watching for a reaction. Cadoc stood beside the drinks cabinet across the room, impassive, but watchful.

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moralhazard
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Wed Sep 25, 2019 11:47 am

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Jean De Silver's Apartment, the Stacks
Uzoji inclined his head a little at Jean’s greetings, but he could not quite bring himself to return it; the words seemed to stick in his throat. Jean sat down, relaxed and comfortable, and invited him to sit as well - offered him brandy.

Uzoji unclasped his arms, and sat; courtesy seemed to demand it of him, even if it was almost a struggle to stay seated. He wanted to get up - to pace, to move - but instead he held himself still in the chair, and his hands settled together in his lap. “No, thank you,” he declined the offer of brandy with a shake of his head; it was courteous of Jean to offer, but Uzoji didn’t feel like a drink, nor just now.

Uzoji leaned forward, intently, when Jean began to speak, tension straining through him. At Jean’s words that Niccolette knew her own mind, Uzoji’s nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened again; he knew that damn well. His hands slid from his lap and found the arms of the chair, gripping tight. He had not put much thought into whether they had met for the first time a week ago. He had not been able to think of it much at all; in the moments he had spared for it, he had not known what would be worse. Jean’s words felt like a blow, and Uzoji’s eyes dropped for a moment. He swallowed again.

His head jerked back up when Jean said they had spoken of him. For a moment, he thought of throwing himself across the room at the Gioran; he couldn’t understand why the man would say such a thing. What had Niccolette said? No, Uzoji thought - no. Such things were better left unsaid. If he did not ask, he would not have to try to forget.

But Jean kept talking, calm and matter-of-fact. Dueling and prize fights? Uzoji shook his head a little, the first feelings of doubt creeping in. He straightened up a little; his shoulders lost some of their tension, his coat easing out back into the shape it normally held.

“In Brunnhold?” Uzoji blurted when Jean said they had attended a prize fight, his eyes slightly wide. For a moment he grinned, boyishly, a very different light in his eyes - he couldn’t help it. He loved the thought of Niccolette at a prize fight, and picturing it -

Uzoji swallowed hard, and sat back against the chair. He let go of the arms of it, his hands in his lap once more. Parted company after the coffee house. He stared at Jean for a long moment. He would have said the other man was being honest; but, then, too, Uzoji was conscious of wanting Jean to have been honest, and he was not quite ready to let himself believe.

“If that’s all, then why was she crying?” Uzoji asked. This time his voice was not quite so steady, not quite so even, and he cleared his throat, self-conscious. He stared at Jean across the room, knowing he gave himself away, at least in part, but unable to help it.

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Genevieve De Silver
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Wed Sep 25, 2019 6:58 pm

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
She could tell by the man's body language he was very distraught, she felt awful that his actions, innocent as they had been had lead to this.

Then the final question, what could he tell him, that his actions had been the cause of her upset, that her family planned wished to married off like you would trade livestock? The memory at the anger she had felt then stirred in her and she decided to hell with it, she would not be afraid of some bloody man, in her own house. She took the cigar from her mouth and placed it in the ashtray and said a little coldly.

“Sir, while it may not be my place to tell you. For if she wanted you to know then I am sure she would tell you.”

She held up a pale finger to enforce her point and then lent forward.

“However, I will say that she cares a great deal for you sir. A great deal. I understand your purpose in coming here it to make sure that she is well, and I can only imagine the distress you must feel. I will say, in fact I must say, if the reason you have come is you suspect Miss Villamarzana of. Well I will not even dignify it with words, and the foolishness of the idea with words.”

She looked him squarely in the eye, she picked up her glass and took a sip.
Her gaze was level and unafraid.

“I imagine you have asked around about me, given the fact that you were able to find my address. I can’t imagine my reputation filled you with confidence, however restaurace nothing happened between Mss Villamarzana then I have already told you”

She took up her cigar and took a long drag on it and blew smoke towards the ceiling once more. When she spoke again her tone was lighter once more.

“Now Mr Okorie, my I offer you a cigar? They are from Mr Braddock, a most excellent tobacconist.”



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moralhazard
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Wed Sep 25, 2019 8:13 pm

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Jean De Silver's Apartment, the Stacks
Uzoji’s jaw clenched again at Jean’s words, and he glanced away, feeling abruptly ashamed that he had not gone to Niccolette directly. He had thought it would be better to confront Jean De Silver first; he had thought that whatever painful truths there were might be easier to hear from a stranger’s voice than Niccolette’s. He was not entirely sure that he had been wrong, but he did have a sinking suspicion that he had been a coward.

Jean began to speak again, and Uzoji looked back at him. He opened his mouth to defend himself, bristling, then sank back down into the chair and sank a little deeper into shame, feeling more than a little embarrassed. The last nine houses suddenly felt like a foolish waste; he believed Jean, the cold, well-concealed anger in his voice if nothing else, and it was almost hard to imagine that he had let himself believe something so foolish.

Uzoji rested his elbows on his knees, and propped his face in his hands for a long moment, gathering himself. He swallowed hard, one last time, and sat back up, slowly. “That – ” Uzoji cleared his throat, looking down, then summoning up the bravery that seemed to have so deserted him this last day, and looking squarely at Jean once more. “That is generous of you. I’d be grateful to accept.”

There were a blessed few moments of quiet then, like a gift from Hulali, as Jean fetched and made ready the cigar. There were a few more as Uzoji tasted it – soft and rich, one of the better ones he’d had. Uzoji was abruptly grateful for his own cowardice, because he didn’t quite like to think how Niccolette might have reacted to the half-formed accusations that had so sickened him. Uzoji took a long drag on the fragrant cigar, and exhaled the smoke out into Jean’s sitting room, and felt remarkably small.

“Please allow me to apologize for my conduct,” Uzoji said, setting the cigar down and leaning forward in his chair, intent once more. He thought Jean had the right of it – it was best not to dignify his earlier thoughts with words. He was grateful that he had not done so, and did not intend to make that mistake now. “You have been very kind, sir, and I am – ashamed.”

The word twisted in his chest, but once it was out – Uzoji relaxed a little more, some of the intensity leaving his gaze and his posture. He looked much more like the student he was, younger and more uncertain. As difficult as it was, he resisted the urge to look away from Jean, to hide from what he had spoken. He did not backtrack, and, as dry as his throat felt, he did not try to change the subject by checking whether Jean’s earlier offer of a brandy might still stand. He rather felt, now, as if he could use one. Nor did he try to explain further; Jean was right that such things were better between him and Niccolette, not shared with a stranger. Instead, Uzoji sat still in Jean’s chair, the handsome cigar resting in the ashtray next to him, and waited as patiently as he could for Jean’s response.

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Genevieve De Silver
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Thu Sep 26, 2019 10:02 am

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Once they were both sat smoking Genevieve let herself relax, the young man had listened to what she had to say. She took a sip of her brandy and held up a pale hand at his apology and smiled warmly.

“My dear fellow, you have nothing to apologise for, to me at least. I imagine if I had been in your place I might have done the same.”

As she spoke she nodded slightly to Cadoc who placed a glass of brandy and handed it to Uzoji. That done Cadoc returned to his place by the drinks stand. Genevieve smiled.

“Uzoji, if I may call you that.I believe you are a good man, I also believe you love Niccolette. I would consider it an honour if you would confide in me, if you need to.”

She sipped her brandy and ashed her cigar.

“The advice I would give however is this, speak to her. Be open with your feelings, perhaps spend more time together.”

She spread her hands, one holding her brandy glass the other holding her cigar and gave a slight smile.

“But then, I am perhaps not the best man to give advice on relationships.”

She gave a warm and slightly wry chuckle, oh but that was an understatement.

“Oh and as for shame, I have no time for it. You should not be ashamed for caring or having feelings.”


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moralhazard
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Thu Sep 26, 2019 12:00 pm

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Jean De Silver's Apartment, the Stacks
Something about Jean’s polite refusal of his apology made Uzoji feel very young indeed, but not ashamed - not like he had. He smiled, faintly, and picked up the cigar again, taking a long drag from it and exhaling the pleasant, fragrant smoke into the air.

“Thank you,” he had felt Cadoc’s presence from the tingle of the man’s glamour in his field, and he took the glass of brandy when it was offered, swirling it gently, and watching the pale traces of liquid slide down the sides of the glass. Uzoji lifted the glass to about the height of his chin, and breathed in the scent, then lifted it a little further and inhaled again. He took a small sip, feeling the warmth flavor throughout his mouth - then another sip, slightly larger, savoring it.

Jean’s taste in brandy was excellent, Uzoji thought, but that was no less than what he would have expected from a man with such good cigars.

Jean offered him the opportunity to confide, offered him advice too, and Uzoji smiled at the older man, friendly and grateful.

He had learned to drink spirits from Anoze, his oldest brother. He should have learned from Okorie, their father, but he had been barely a boy when Okorie had died. Uzoji had sipped from his father’s glass, once or twice, but he had not been old enough to learn. Instead, perhaps six or seven years ago now, when Uzoji had been home from Thul’Amat, Anoze had sat him down and taught him how to taste and drink spirits. Anoze had not teased him for not knowing; he had smiled, forbearing, at the horrified face Uzoji had made at his first sip of whiskey, and laughed, proud, as Uzoji’s determination to find a compliment for the drink that was not a lie.

He had felt like a man, then, Uzoji remembered. He had known he was not, but he had felt like one, and he had been grateful that Anoze was there to pass on their father’s wisdom, to teach Uzoji what he needed to know, and to guide him.

And now?

Uzoji set the glass down, gently, and ashed his cigar. Be more open with her, Jean had said. There were thoughts best not dignified with words; once he had begun, he could not take them back, and he would not lie. There were things he did not want to tell Niccolette, not while they were unfinished; perhaps not ever, not if he did not have to. There were things, Uzoji thought, best not spoken aloud in Brunnhold.

He had thought he was doing a good job of covering the lack; Jean’s advice told him he had not, that Niccolette had felt it. She could not know; she would have told him.

There would be no way, Uzoji thought, to turn Anoze to his side. He had held out hope that his older brother could be convinced to break the marriage he wanted for Uzoji, the contract they had entered him into several years before. He had tried, night after night, to help his older brother see that he did not want his guidance, not in this.

“Your advice is well taken, sir,” Uzoji paused. “Jean,” he amended, with a grin, his acceptance of Jean’s use of his first name clear in it. Uzoji took another drag from the cigar, savoring it.

“I know that Hulali blessed me when He put Niccolette in my path,” Uzoji said. There was no shame in his voice now, no hedging, and no reluctance; these were easy words to speak, compared to the ones that had come before. “I shall make sure she has no cause to doubt it.” Uzoji grinned at Jean again, a little sheepish this time, but utterly sincere.

“Where do you get your brandy?” Uzoji asked, curiously. “Most of what I’ve had here isn’t the same caliber as Thul Ka, but this is exceptional.”

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Genevieve De Silver
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Thu Sep 26, 2019 9:13 pm

Early Evening, 38th Yaris, 2711
Her words seemed to of had an effect, certainly given him something to think about. At the use of her name, Jean's name rather, she smiled.
Blessed indeed, it was then that it occurred to Genevieve that she knew very little about this man's country or culture. Other than coffee and excellent cloth, a failing on her part.

She grinned broadly at the compliment.

"It is Gioran, I bring back a case or two back with me when I visit. I’ve not found a reliable seller her in Burnnhold as yet. However I live in hope.”"


She grinned and clicked her slender fingers as a thought struck her.

“In fact."

She looked to Cadoc and said.

“Cadoc, could you fetch a bottle of brandy for Mr Okorie. A bottle of eight year old, if we've one left”"

As Cadoc left the room with a nod, Genevive held up a finger, to stay any objection, to a broad smile on her face.

“Take it as a gift, it is my pleasure. One gentleman of taste to another.”


Cadoc returned with a bottle sealed with a cork and black wax, the faded parchment label read ‘ɰäʨ ʊ̈ɦ ɻɪ̈ɦɒ̈ 2703’.

“It means, Water of Life. My father was a vintner. The family who makes that particular brandy were good friends of his, and thus they give me a very favourable price. It also happens to be one of the finest I have drank”"


She laughed and then a far away look came into her eyes, it had been a very long time since she had spoken of her father. She wondered what he would make of her now?

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