=_=
Inside the home of Count Trandafir...
"Here it comes..." Olrox thought to himself. He stood silently before his pacing father, staring at the designs on the carpet while Ilie worked himself up to launch into another one of his lectures-to-end-all-lectures. Finally, he heard his father sigh, which signaled the start of what would surely be an hour long, one-sided 'discussion'.
"Olrox, God knows I have said this countless times before, but I am deeply disappointed in you. Your behavior this evening was inexcusable."
Olrox's eyes rose to meet Elie's stern glare, and immediately found the floor again. "I'm sorry, Father." he muttered. It was the same exchange the two made every time Olrox displeased his father, which was fairly often lately. He allowed himself a small grim smile. "We could argue in our sleep, we're so well practiced..." he mused.
"I don't think you are."
"I am not sorry for my actions; I am sorry for upsetting all of you." And he was. It was heartbreaking to see his mother fight back tears when he had stalked out of the room at dinner. He felt like the scum of the earth when he heard Marie softly weeping as he shut the door behind him. What was he to do? His father had practically dropped him in Marie's lap, a woman he hardly knew, and he knew the reason. It would take an idiot of Alex's magnitude to not notice the fact that the mansion wasn't in as good repair as it used to be, or that the staff had been steadily dwindling over the years. The Trandafir house was losing its footing financially, and it was well known that Marie's family was one of the wealthiest in Transylvania, though they lacked nobility. A marriage between the two houses would bring much needed money to one, and much wanted status to the other. Win-win, except of course for the bride and bridegroom. This thought made Olrox flush with anger; he had a temper to match his father's...
Ilie began again. "Well, what did you THINK your little outburst would do?! You have single-handedly destroyed our friendship with Lord Jacques, Marie is devastated, your mother has locked herself in her room, and all because of your lack of consideration for anyone but yourself. I swear, Olrox, I don't know where we went wrong with you, but you are the most selfish child I have ever had the misfortune to raise. You sulk around the library and the gardens all day, and all the world could go to hell around you." That stung. Ilie was especially caustic tonight.
"I seek solitude because you and Mother and the Jacques have done nothing but force Marie and me together for months! When will you understand that I don't wish to marry?" He sounded more abrupt than he had intended. In a softer tone he continued, "I wonder if it is not our parents who are the selfish ones..."
That was the final straw for Ilie. In three long strides, he crossed the room to Olrox and backhanded him so hard he fell to the floor in a rather undignified manner on his backside. As he shot his father a look of disbelieving shock, he heard a soft rustle outside the doors. Undoubtedly, some nearby maids and such had heard the escalating volume of two Trandafirs' 'discussion'. By that time, however, Olrox's own pent-up rage had been ignited, and he didn't care if it was his own family listening at the door. He picked himself up off the floor with as much dignity as he could muster before spitting at Ilie's boots. He met his father's hard stare with one of his own. "I've had enough of this. Marie and I are not trinkets to be traded for worldly gain."
His father was obviously trying very hard not to strangle his youngest son. His voice shook with anger. "You worthless, ungrateful, self-righteous brat! Poponar! You have had enough? I, too, have had quite enough of your whining! Go!" He flung his arm towards the door. "Go from me, go from this house; the sight of you is wretched to me! You are a son of mine no longer, nor ever again. We'll see how much higher you are than we when you are naked and starving on the streets!" With that parting remark, he turned his back on Olrox and stared into the fire, a statue of pride and stubbornness.
Olrox slowly backed towards the doors. He half-wanted to apologize somehow, but he knew what that would entail, and besides, he was clearly too far into this to back out now. "Maybe it was only a matter of time..." he tried to comfort himself. Then he let his anger take over again. Always it was anger that drove him to act; a pool of strength he could always draw from. He spit again and retaliated. "Fututi gura! Considering how miserable I am here, I should find begging a pleasant change, Count Trandafir. I would rather languish free and than live as a slave to politics and greed!"
He swept out past the bewildered maids and into the corridor. After about five paces he began to run. His blind rage was beginning to subside, and the seriousness of what he'd allowed to happen a few moments ago was starting to make him panic. He dimly heard his father's voice bellowing after him, but it was only a garbled noise; everything was starting to run together; he was certain he would faint soon.
Shortly after Olrox had left, Elie had realized the grave mistake he'd made. He ran into the hall and called after his child, pleading with him to come back, that something could be worked out, but Olrox kept running, seemingly ignoring his father's supplications. The old temper was inflamed again and he shouted at the top of his lungs at the swiftly receding figure at the far end of the hallway.
"Fire-ai al dracului!"
Oi. What a soap this is becoming. Hopefully we can get to the good stuff next chapter, hmm?
Fututi gura- Screw you
Poponar- fag
Fire-ai al dracului- May you belong to the devil
Inside the home of Count Trandafir...
"Here it comes..." Olrox thought to himself. He stood silently before his pacing father, staring at the designs on the carpet while Ilie worked himself up to launch into another one of his lectures-to-end-all-lectures. Finally, he heard his father sigh, which signaled the start of what would surely be an hour long, one-sided 'discussion'.
"Olrox, God knows I have said this countless times before, but I am deeply disappointed in you. Your behavior this evening was inexcusable."
Olrox's eyes rose to meet Elie's stern glare, and immediately found the floor again. "I'm sorry, Father." he muttered. It was the same exchange the two made every time Olrox displeased his father, which was fairly often lately. He allowed himself a small grim smile. "We could argue in our sleep, we're so well practiced..." he mused.
"I don't think you are."
"I am not sorry for my actions; I am sorry for upsetting all of you." And he was. It was heartbreaking to see his mother fight back tears when he had stalked out of the room at dinner. He felt like the scum of the earth when he heard Marie softly weeping as he shut the door behind him. What was he to do? His father had practically dropped him in Marie's lap, a woman he hardly knew, and he knew the reason. It would take an idiot of Alex's magnitude to not notice the fact that the mansion wasn't in as good repair as it used to be, or that the staff had been steadily dwindling over the years. The Trandafir house was losing its footing financially, and it was well known that Marie's family was one of the wealthiest in Transylvania, though they lacked nobility. A marriage between the two houses would bring much needed money to one, and much wanted status to the other. Win-win, except of course for the bride and bridegroom. This thought made Olrox flush with anger; he had a temper to match his father's...
Ilie began again. "Well, what did you THINK your little outburst would do?! You have single-handedly destroyed our friendship with Lord Jacques, Marie is devastated, your mother has locked herself in her room, and all because of your lack of consideration for anyone but yourself. I swear, Olrox, I don't know where we went wrong with you, but you are the most selfish child I have ever had the misfortune to raise. You sulk around the library and the gardens all day, and all the world could go to hell around you." That stung. Ilie was especially caustic tonight.
"I seek solitude because you and Mother and the Jacques have done nothing but force Marie and me together for months! When will you understand that I don't wish to marry?" He sounded more abrupt than he had intended. In a softer tone he continued, "I wonder if it is not our parents who are the selfish ones..."
That was the final straw for Ilie. In three long strides, he crossed the room to Olrox and backhanded him so hard he fell to the floor in a rather undignified manner on his backside. As he shot his father a look of disbelieving shock, he heard a soft rustle outside the doors. Undoubtedly, some nearby maids and such had heard the escalating volume of two Trandafirs' 'discussion'. By that time, however, Olrox's own pent-up rage had been ignited, and he didn't care if it was his own family listening at the door. He picked himself up off the floor with as much dignity as he could muster before spitting at Ilie's boots. He met his father's hard stare with one of his own. "I've had enough of this. Marie and I are not trinkets to be traded for worldly gain."
His father was obviously trying very hard not to strangle his youngest son. His voice shook with anger. "You worthless, ungrateful, self-righteous brat! Poponar! You have had enough? I, too, have had quite enough of your whining! Go!" He flung his arm towards the door. "Go from me, go from this house; the sight of you is wretched to me! You are a son of mine no longer, nor ever again. We'll see how much higher you are than we when you are naked and starving on the streets!" With that parting remark, he turned his back on Olrox and stared into the fire, a statue of pride and stubbornness.
Olrox slowly backed towards the doors. He half-wanted to apologize somehow, but he knew what that would entail, and besides, he was clearly too far into this to back out now. "Maybe it was only a matter of time..." he tried to comfort himself. Then he let his anger take over again. Always it was anger that drove him to act; a pool of strength he could always draw from. He spit again and retaliated. "Fututi gura! Considering how miserable I am here, I should find begging a pleasant change, Count Trandafir. I would rather languish free and than live as a slave to politics and greed!"
He swept out past the bewildered maids and into the corridor. After about five paces he began to run. His blind rage was beginning to subside, and the seriousness of what he'd allowed to happen a few moments ago was starting to make him panic. He dimly heard his father's voice bellowing after him, but it was only a garbled noise; everything was starting to run together; he was certain he would faint soon.
Shortly after Olrox had left, Elie had realized the grave mistake he'd made. He ran into the hall and called after his child, pleading with him to come back, that something could be worked out, but Olrox kept running, seemingly ignoring his father's supplications. The old temper was inflamed again and he shouted at the top of his lungs at the swiftly receding figure at the far end of the hallway.
"Fire-ai al dracului!"
Oi. What a soap this is becoming. Hopefully we can get to the good stuff next chapter, hmm?
Fututi gura- Screw you
Poponar- fag
Fire-ai al dracului- May you belong to the devil