OoC: Anyone who's reading this should be familiar with the events of "
A River of Trouble" and should read "
His Imperial Majesty" first for the following RP stuff to make sense.
IC:
Meanwhile, at the imperial palace in Citta, Cernilia, Dr. Dorian opened his door to find Cadenza Madrigal standing before it, holding a gel ice pack wrapped in a paper towel over her left eye and looking to be in a sour mood. A little redness and swelling could already be seen around the ice pack, but the whole area was sure to be purple in a while.
“I got punched in the eye,” she said flatly when he’d taken the scene in, her eyes daring him, just daring him to chuckle about the situation.
“Oh good Lord,” the doctor replied instead, unable to help a small smile, “are you inventing reasons to see me, Mage Madrigal?”
“His Imperial Majesty’s
personal trainer," she began, voice full of rich sarcasm, adopting a faux-aristocratic tone for those words before she went on, "has a big fat ego. I bruised it and got this. But don’t worry. His Imperial Juicehead will be right behind me as soon as they heft him onto the stretcher,” it was then her turn to smile, and quite a smile it was; a wolfish, satisfied little smile.
Dorian might have chuckled that time—he knew that particular trainer well just by the description of the bloated sack of ego he walked around with, one the doctor had unsuccessfully suggested removing to him once--but if the doctor did laugh, he cautiously hid it behind a hand as he turned his back to walk into the room, “Come, we’ll get you some ibuprofen and I’ll have a look at that eye.”
The shake of his shoulders, however, had given him away. Cadenza’s smile brightened—she’d finally won a laugh from the cool, professional doc. The warm feeling that rose in her helped her forget a little bit about her throbbing bruise.
“Normally I’d just give you two pills, but I’m feeling generous, so I may just slip a third in by accident…” he told her, shaking the medicine out of the bottle. The pills clinked against something metallic and she looked to see the cause.
A wedding band on his left ring finger. Platinum, engraved. Of course. She instantly felt like a camel’s ass.
For Gaia’s sake, of COURSE he’s married. He’s a freaking doctor. Godsdamnit, Cadenza, you sure do know how to pick them. What’s next, a monk?
Dorian caught her frown and furrowed his eyebrows, practically a dramatic reaction for such a usually even-keeled, stoic man. “Is something the matter…?”
“No, no… I, ah…” she forced her face into a neutral expression, years of acting and playing false roles coming in very handy, “…I just remembered that I had been wondering why you looked so familiar last time. You were going to say it… wasn’t unlikely that you had relatives in Rubato, something like that?”
“That’s correct…” he came over with a fresh ice pack, a more pliant one, and exchanged it to her for her nearly warm one, “My brother married a Rubatoian woman, I believe…”
There was something cautious, deliberate about the way he said that, the way he looked at her so slowly, that made the hairs on the back of the gypsy’s neck rise for a moment. Their gazes locked and for that brief second she felt as she could see years of his life revealed to her in those striking gray eyes. He seemed just as transfixed on her.
“Your…” she swallowed, even though her throat felt as dry as sandpaper, “…brother, you said?”
He merely eyed her, as if he could see the gears in her head turning through the same revolutions his had.
“He married a… Rubatoian woman… and… you look… familiar to me, but not enough that I can easily place it… like you resemble someone I… rarely saw…” her speech continued to come out stilted, her mind several trains of thought ahead of her lips.
Then in a flurry of action and violence, she swung her arm back, grasped the metal pan that held the medical instruments beside the examination table, and swung it towards the doctor’s head. He only managed to fall to a knee and evade it striking the crown of his head by mere inches because he had suspected it was coming. Her reaction time and the strength of her swing would have given him no chance had he been a fraction of a second slower in his thinking.
“You’re a ♥♥♥♥♥ing
Dionne!”
“Cadenza, Cadenza, please calm
down! We have to talk about this!”
“Oh we’ll talk after I’ve put your head through a wall!” the woman yelled, pouncing down from the table onto the panicked doctor. He gave a strangled cry and crawled for dear life towards the cabinet at the end of the room, hoping it might give him some cover. But the woman snatched his right leg and he knew from the vise grip she held on it with that he would not be going anywhere unless she willed it so.
Shadow magic seethed from her fingertips and burned into his skin, even through his trousers. He chanced a look back and caught a glimpse of nightmarish blue eyes he felt certain he would never forget—it was the look of a ferocious tiger who has just found some little rodent swiping food from its den.
“P-please,” Dorian managed to croak out, “Cadenza, I-I know what my family has done, but I’ve never been a part of that!”
“
Boludez!” she roared, and with one pull, hoisted him towards her like he was nothing but a baby trout. As she stood, she hauled him up by his shirt collar until he was dangling off the ground, and he quickly realized she was far stronger than any woman her size had a right to be.
“I… I swear to you, I never allowed them to involve me in a-any of that!”
“If you are telling the truth, then why are you wriggling like a
worm?”
“B-because…” he stammered, coughing, feeling the blood continue to rush to his head as she nearly squeezed off all his air in her grasp, “y… you’re
hurting me!”
Something deep within her being roared to be let out. It would be so easy, it said, to tear him apart with the shadow’s claws. Rip open the little liar and let his lying guts pour out. Then he could squirm all he wanted. Squirm while they spilled out on the office floor.
Dorian could watch her eyes darken as that side spoke to her. Fear and violence only brought it out more, hatred and rage. The history between the Dionnes and the Madrigals was almost as hostile as that between Cernilia and Rubato—but there had been the one union that had set the whole war between their families off. Anton Dionne and Vivace Madrigal’s marriage. His younger, middle brother and her oldest sister. And suddenly what he had recognized in her from their first meeting became so much more clear—that ruthless, lethal look in her eyes? It was the look that had stuck with him the one time he had ever been in Vivace Madrigal’s company for more than a minute or so in the past.
He could only stare back, terrified, his vision blurred, his glasses lost somewhere on the floor, and count down possibly the last seconds he had. But as his skin grew clammier and his face pale, he watched an expression he never would have seen on Vivace’s face slowly set in over her younger sister’s now.
Cadenza looked guilty—and horrified at herself, for what she had reduced him to.
“O-oh gods… if… if you’re… then you’re the only family the girls have left of him… the only link Alex has to… to her pai, even if I’ll never understand why she liked him so much…” Her hands that grasped him shook, but eased.
Dorian’s mouth fell open, but he could find no words. He was too overwhelmed with the relief that he wasn’t about to die a very untimely death. He expected a lot of bad things to happen to him while working at the palace, but he never had a clue his workday could turn so dark quite so fast.
“T-the others… when they came to take Alex, to hurt her, I-I… but you haven’t tried any of that… you’ve only done your job and tried to help me… and here I’ve… nossa Madre de Vida, Dorian… lo siento… lo siento muito…” slowly, with quavering arms, she set him down, very gingerly, almost as if he had been an egg. Then she bent down and retrieved his glasses from where they’d skidded near the wall, and lightly placed them in his hands, shaking, overly-gentle, as if terrified that a single touch from her hands might harm him more than he’d been hurt already.
“G-gods, I… I just never expected to find another D…Dionne… and a grown one, too… one that was around back then…”
“I…” he cleared his throat, finding his own hand was trembling as he put his glasses on, despite all his attempts to regain his professional cool. His nerves had just been shot. His hands still sweated. “I-I understand… I was shocked too when I… I began to recognize you before… Your sister was a very… a very forbidding woman.”
“
Mm… I know…” Cadenza stepped back from him, remembering the throbbing pain around her eye and holding her hand back up to it. It hurt even worse now with the tension that had built in her temples. She’d lost the ice pack in the scuffle, and as she hunted around for it, couldn’t spot it. It seemed she was doing all she could not to look at him, or speak on the subject any more. If she had been a tigress before, now she was a turtle, withdrawn in on herself, guarded, wary, evading all contact she could.
“…Is she how you got the scars on your hands and arms? …Sometimes my brother would have a few, some he wouldn’t explain to me, even when he wanted me to treat them…” he kept his voice pitched as gentle and as steady as he could manage—as if he had shifted into the mode of a psychologist dealing with an abuse victim. And that wasn’t far off. “I noticed after a while that many of his were burns, and gathered that perhaps the causes weren’t as natural or accidental as they at first seemed.”
As he spoke, the woman’s deep blue eyes roved, left, and then right, in slowly wandering arcs over the floor tiles. Left, where humans generally looked to invent things, lie, make things up; right, where they looked to recall, to summon up memories, check facts from their pasts. He got the sense that normally she was not so easily readable, so obvious when she was considering a lie. But she had been shaken, and she wasn’t paying him much mind now, didn’t think about him observing her. She was in a battle of the mind, full of memories and pain and the lies she had told to herself to get through those times.
“He worried… sometimes… that she might lose her temper with the children. That they would ‘fail’ her, as she put it, or upset her somehow, and that she might hurt them too… so he would purposely draw her ire towards him… if one of the children had a spill on the rug, he would make a bigger mistake, keep her attention on him… always, Anton would take the blow for them…”
“Th… the daughter he got to keep…” Cadenza’s voice came out in a tearful murmur, words barely enunciated at first, her accent thicker, “s-she loved him so much… loves him still, every day she misses him, thinks of him… b-both hijas are… healthy and safe now… happy… t-they have… no real idea of how he died in the war… the mix-up… with my first husband…”
“Nn…” Dorian could only think of nodding to that. “I… I know he… did wrong by your father… by your family… caused you all a lot of pain, but… my brother was not an entirely bad man… he lived under our mother’s thumb, as we all did. I was fortunate enough to get away, but he and Enrico…”
“…There are certain grudges between our families that may never be buried…” she nodded now, gazing up from the floor for the first time to glance at him, but only for a moment, “but… if you can forgive me for… for my reaction… maybe we could be… the first generation of… of friends, or allies, or whatever between our families that there has been… since that conflict… since our mafia days…”
The doctor flashed her a very small, very white smile. It gleamed almost as bright as his eyes. “…So long as you never tackle me again. Maybe you should take up Cordelian football?”
Cadenza couldn’t quite manage the same, but warmth did begin to return to her eyes. “I’ll stick to the real sport—futeball. The beautiful game. But I think I can make that promise…”
Dorian held out a hand. “…Shake on it?”
Without needing another word, the gypsy grasped his hand and shook once, firm, but not trying to pulverize his bones into a powder or anything. The doctor felt immensely grateful for that, given her earlier show of strength.
“Let me get you a new ice pack and check your eye…” he said.
Knock, knock. The men with the physical trainer on the stretcher had finally shown up at the door.
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After sunset, Cadenza left the palace with some new ice packs and a bottle of ibuprofen in her purse, her left eye checked out and diagnosed as A-okay in a day or so when the swelling would go down. No health or vision problems to be worried about. At least she could chalk that up to the good news column. Even better would have been not getting punched at all, but hey, it was worth shutting up Juicehead. Until the swelling around her eye went down, she had been given a simple, white, medical eyepatch to wear to keep the bruises from getting aggravated. It earned her a couple of weird looks, but in the big city, there were stranger things.
The gypsy was considering grabbing some food from a local place or maybe a stand, if anywhere good was still operating. Street food in Citta was surprisingly good and not as fatty or otherwise unhealthy as one might worry. They had all the vegetables and fruits Rubato mostly lacked.
Shish-kebabs with maybe some roasted tomato and zucchini, a little chicken, maybe an few pieces of onion… yeah, that sounds good right about now.
With that decided, she turned down one of the side streets leading away from the palace and started heading for the shop district. Nothing but fancy restaurants near the emperor’s home. She was hungry, but she wasn’t looking to break the bank to fill her stomach that night. Simple was better. And walking after being cooped in the palace all day reinforcing wards felt great. Thinking about something other than her outburst with Dorian earlier felt even better. Food was a good--and worthwhile--distraction.