Reflections in the Waves (4/29, late morning. Ian/Elanor, CLOSED)

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

The lake was as lovely as ever.

It was easily one of Elanor's favorite things about Castle Licorn -- which of course was beautiful in and of itself, but the fact that it was on a lake just made things better. She loved the water. It was beautiful and soothing and powerful in a deep and hidden way, and for most of the stay she'd been at its edge. In the library or at the lake...in some ways the Fitzwulf daughter was predictable.

In others, perhaps not so much. For instance, after only a very short walk, today she recognized another figure as one Ian Harcourt: a man who could only be considered an enemy. Instead of flinching and lowering her eyes, or coldly walking by, she stopped. Whether or not Elanor hesitated inwardly was a secret she was keeping to herself. All Ian needed to see was a courteous greeting. "Lord Harcourt, good morning to you."

[Ian Harcourt]

Ian found himself staring into the lake with great intensity. He watched the water twist and turn and curl with the wind in great fascination. He could spend the rest of his life on the open sea, with nothing but himself, a boat and the water for the rest of eternity.

His fingers were rubbing together; a nervous habit. Try as he might to get his mind off of what was plaguing him he couldn't. Even focusing on menial tasks like breathing and staring at the water and by Geralt even mathematics, he couldn't keep it out of his mind for long.

"Lord Harcourt, good morning to you."

He turned slightly when he heard the feminine voice, wondering who might be out at the lake at this hour, and of those people who would want to speak with him? He recognized her immediately; he had taken great care to know every Fitzwulf's physical appearance so that should they try to trick him, he would know.

"To you as well, Lady Elanor." He said, courteously. Jon and William were is enemies, not her.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

Interesting; his reaction didn't seem quite as wary or cold when Jon wasn't about. Did that mean....? It was a horrible thought, mostly because it involved her brother dying, but did that mean there was hope if she led Arbrecht? She'd have to try and find out. "You like the water too?"

Elanor wasn't feeling particularly talkative right now, but she couldn't afford to be reticent or chilly with this man. Besides, all things considered this opportunity was a rare one. "It's beautiful. I could watch it for hours." And had, actually, but that was beside the point. "I'll admit to wishing the Wolf Keep rested on water." She smiled, just a little, then turned back to study the lake. It wouldn't do to stare him down like...well, like a wolf might.

[Ian Harcourt]

Ian nodded at her. He enjoyed water, alright. In his mind anyone that didn't like water just had an irrational fear of it; water was your greatest ally, and it was only when the great sea's twisted and turned and roared with thunder and lightning that the water was any real danger to Ian.

"The ripples of the water are soothing," he started as he turned to face Elanor for a moment. She had to want something; A Fitzwulf, in Ian's mind, would never start casual conversation with a Harcourt. It just didn't happen. It rarely happened between friendly houses, let alone rival houses. "Did you need something?" He asked, perhaps coming off a bit rude because of the suddenness of his question.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"Did you need something?"

Elanor had been expecting something like that, but it still hurt. She had enough eyes in and out of Arbrecht to know that Ian Harcourt was a man she would have liked if circumstances were different. In fact, she would even go as far as to say that he was the sort of father she wished she'd had. Elanor had envied Isaac Harcourt for his father, and now the selfsame man was addressing her like a child too late out of bed or a servant who had forgotten her boundaries. It stung, and the young woman answered with a Look just on the fair side of steely. "...I was going to complement you on your very intelligent son, but if you'd prefer to relive my father's crimes I suppose I can oblige. Unfortunately I've had no practice in launching corpses over walls so it might not be so interesting, and in all truth I'd rather not."

Honestly. This was so far beyond ridiculous it wasn't even funny, and given the enmity between their houses why would he even think she would go to him if she needed something? Hopefully bringing the elephant in the room to full light would smooth things over somewhat, but Elanor supposed that with her luck she'd just end up with another war.

[Ian Harcourt]

Ian turned to face her, his eye's locking hers and his arms at his side. His look was stone cold and stoic, as if he was remembering what had happened. He remembered his men choking and dieing, he remembered that even though they were sick they would not desert. If he had ordered it so, they would of held that pass until the bitter end.

Then, he laughed. Loud. He clapped his hands together and began to speak through chuckles. "Well played, Elanor!" He said cheerfully, a smile breaching his face. He had to do something to diffuse the hostility, because as he had thought, his choice of words and manner of delivery had come off far colder than he had thought they would.

He knew that it wouldn't do to be hostile to her; there would be no point, and no doubt she would run off and tell Jon, who would dare to drone on in Ian's ear. Every conversation was a joust with a Fitzwulf for Ian, until finally he allowed them to believe they had defeated him. It was easier that way; he had patience, and he had to be ready for the future.

"So you've talked to Isaac, have you?" He said inquisitively, not sure what to expect. Why had she and Isaac been speaking? As far as he knew, Isaac hadn't said much of anything to much of anyone since they arrived in Forsilvra. But... he couldn't keep tabs on him -all- the time.

He took care to ignore any mention of the war.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

The cold look didn't fit the following laughter. Elanor wanted to relax into a smile with him; wanted everything to be over and the air to clear, but much as she hoped she wasn't stupid. Blood didn't clear that easily -- either Ian Harcourt was a man of amazing mental strength, or a phenomenal actor. The Fitzwulf daughter wanted to believe the best of him but at the same time she couldn't afford to. Complacence was too dangerous...even if he'd called her Elanor like she was a friend.

Instead of relaxing into smiles, the young woman watched him and tilted her head. "Well played?"

Her voice was gentle now. "Lord Harcourt, I don't think it's a game. If I thought such tactics in war were honorable, it wouldn't displease me to be associated with them." She knew she was, too. Elanor kept to herself so much that it just wasn't feasible to have enemies; her introspective, solitary lifestyle certainly didn't explain the hatred and fear that was so quick to show in people's eyes. "I'm sorry if it seemed I was making light. I certainly don't find it funny."

She cast her eyes to the lake, giving him a moment or two to look at the ripples they both found soothing. She hadn't even known about the final attack until things were completely over. She'd barely known about the first. Not that William would have listened to a daughter even if she had known and tried to get him to stop. William listened to no one to begin with, and a final girl-child was probably on the bottom of the list.

Not that it mattered. It seemed doubtful anyone believed her.

"I have spoken to Lord Isaac, yes." He wanted the subject to change; for now she would indulge him. "There was a mistake on the day of arrival; I got his luggage and he got mine. Eventually we sorted it out."

Elanor turned her head to look at him again, guessing that he'd had enough time to regain his composure by now...if he'd ever lost it in the first place. "We spent some time in the library. He's a very articulate, dedicated, and innovative young man. I think you should be proud of him -- I've never met his like. It was impressive."

[Ian Harcourt]

"No, no, It seems I have said one thing, and meant another. But it doesn't matter, I don't wish to dwell on that topic any further." He said with a smile. He didn't care to relive the war any further in his leisure time. It wasn't as haunting as it was a few years ago, but he still dreamt of it in his sleep sometimes.

"Oh? Oh yes! I do remember that. He was quite flustered when he realized what happened!" He took care to notice the string of compliments, and the subtle hint that she felt she had never met someone quite like him. He picked up on it alright -- it just showed him what she thought of Jon. If she didn't mean that, or didn't think it consciously, Ian figured she did subconsciously.

"Well, thank you. I'm glad I haven't raised a fool. He was worrying me for awhile, you know." He said jokingly.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

He didn't want to talk about the war, something Elanor could understand because she didn't really wat to talk about it either. Still, hopefully some frankness on her part had cleared up any misunderstandings of her own opinions on the matter. She wasn't a murderer. "Of course, my lord. Thank you for listening to me."

The young woman gave him a sympathetic look when he joked about wondering about Isaac, knowledge lighting in her eyes. "Boys will be boys?" she guessed. "It can be hard to tell male intelligence, sometimes; mostly because young men seem to have no sense of self-preservation. I can see Lord Isaac going for some foolish dares...he seems bold as they come."

But she smiled. "I think he's out of that stage, though, so you can safely be proud. He has some marvelous ideas for Fyrsbruck, and I'd like to see the same in the province as a whole -- did he tell you about the contest he's hosting? An arts competition, for painting and music and poetry. It's never been done in Arbrecht before. It's brilliant."

Elanor wasn't going to tell him that while technically the contest was Isaac's idea, her hand had set the wheels in motion. Let him think it was all the doing of his son.

[Ian Harcourt]

Ian listened with some amusement at her compliments to Isaac. Even if they seemed legitimate, Ian had trouble keeping himself from wondering why she came here. She was right that Isaac had been one to take up almost any dare, something that Gilfrid Hallvador did not help remedy and in fact was the main source of Isaacs foolish boyhood activities.

Well, that and Iridia. Iridia and him constantly squabbled and were perfect rivals and friends as children; such, Ian had noticed, was the nature of twins and indeed family itself. Often when Isaac was punished he would say, 'You hate me!' to which Ian would think to himself, 'I may hate you, but I still love you.'

"A contest of cultured trapping, 'ey? Well this is the first I've heard of that! I wonder whose coffers he was planning to use to fund such an event..." Ian said, jokingly. Fyrsbruck might be stuffed full of trade income, but that didn't mean Ian liked to waste a large sum hosting large events on a whim. "Perhaps house Fitzwulf would be so kind as to donate their vast sums of wealth to my Son so he can host this event?" He teased like a man far younger than what he was. He didn't really expect her to say anything to that.

Ian had never really grown up. He just looked older. Felt older.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

Away from Jon, Elanor didn't really know how to laugh. She was the heir. She needed to be taken seriously and, to her, that meant being serious. So it was that Elanor, despite catching Ian's joke, didn't know how to tease back and instead just answered honestly. "I gave him a diamond and ruby brooch for it, if that counts? I thought it would be nice to help sponsor this...nice to have poets and musicians in Arbrecht. I hope that isn't offensive."