Snippet #1469035

Van nodded his head in response to Cyrille. He was about to ask another question, but a sudden disturbance in the crowd drew his attention, and Cyrille’s as well it seemed. Van looked on ahead of Cyrille as he moved passed him. Displeased eyes glanced over his brother, and the peasant woman with which he stood. He began to tread after Cyrille, passing a small group of younger nobles. He suddenly stopped in mid-step. He felt as if he was being watched. Van slowly glanced around the crowd, but nothing was out of the ordinary. People were laughing, and the young nobles behind him were chattering up a storm.

This small group of three youthful boys were conversing about a small group of noble girls standing just on the other side of Van. They pushed and shoved each other’s shoulders, daring one another to speak to one of the lovely dressed young ladies. One of the ignorant bunch had apparently been knocked back, and stumbled into Van from behind. Van turned on his heels and faced the boy. Van stared down at the poor lad with a mild glare. “Here, let me help you…” Van snatched the boy up by his arm, and tugged him over to the group of young ladies. They giggled in amusement, as they slightly hid their smiles with their flamboyant fans. Van nudged the boy forward, so much that the young man tripped and fell into one of the girls –his face landing in her chest-. By this time, Van had silently slipped away. This fact only complicated the boy’s situation further, and he was abruptly driven away by the flustered young woman.

Van had stepped next to Cyrille just as Duke Gerard introduced his niece. Van glanced over the woman. He noted the odd fact that she was quite under-dressed for the occasion. A Duke’s family member was always clothed in the most fashionable of garments, yet she was not. Attending a Royal Court gathering in such hand-me down linens was as distasteful as simply walking about in one’s bed robe.

Van nodded his head in regards to the Duke, but his attention was soon regained to Cyrille when he began to mention Deonne’s murder. The girl, Antionette, seemed to be in shock at this news. An incident of such popular concern surely could not have gone unmentioned to her. This was another oddity. She was the niece of a Duke –a renowned Duke at that-, and had not heard any word of Deonne’s death. However, Van’s expression did not adjust to his thoughts. He simply held a plain front.

Van did, however, furrow his brows slightly when the girl began to explain her relationship with Deonne. Her description sounded somewhat similar to the composure of Deonne Bonnaire, but there was indeed a difference. Van then went on to raise a brow when Cyrille described her. He surmised that Deonne must have acted differently when in the company of Cyrille. This didn’t seem completely un-thought of, but the summary of words acknowledging that Deonne would ‘never hurt a fly’ was pushing the quality of her personality quite high.

Van turned his gaze back over to a tear stricken Antionette. He found it a bit suspicious that she kept referring to the presence of men when she spoke of meeting with Deonne. He harbored the thought, until suddenly a high-pitch giggle echoed behind him. Van’s eyes only widened slightly. “That’s…” Van watched Cyrille turn around. He noticed that the boy’s eyes weren’t on him, but in-fact staring past him. Van slowly turned on his heels, only to face the hued figure of Deonne Bonnaire’s shade. Van’s expression was still calm and impassive. Van turned and cocked his head, until he stared down at Cyrille out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t say anything more to it. Simply watch and listen.” He spoke in a steady tone. His eyes reverted back to the shade. He wasn’t entirely expecting this, but now his curiosity was set to new heights.