dear_mun | on him bloody well attending a christmas ball @ luceti

Ma'am. M'lady. Miss Mundane. Or whatever it is you wish to be called. [ a pregant pause as he reins in his temper. ]

I don't much bloody care for Christmas. You know it and I know it. And if you're dead set on having me attend any of their festivities, soon everyone else will know it too. Bloody inconvenient, that.

...And don't you try and tell me it makes a difference that the party's come so early. Christ, woman. That's just as bad -- if not worse. A whole month of this shite? Send me off on one of those missions, instead. I'd prefer marching orders to dancing ones -- bugger it, but you bloody well know I can't dance. I'm better off skewering them enemy bastards than I am dancing and wearing...

[ aha. inspiration sparks in his eyes! he's got a bargaining chip. ] Alright, ma'am. Here are my terms if I must attend: no dancing and no dress uniforms. I'll stick with what I have, thank you. This jacket were good enough for Portugal and Spain. So it'll bloody well be good enough for Luceti.

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[ It's not typical for the ranger to pester anyone, but there's something oddly familiar about this man. Everything from the accent to the ire seems so familiar to him. Maybe it's just a case of "Déjà vu" or something like it. ]

What good is there to attend any festival and not participate in some way?

Precisely. [ he (perhaps mistakenly) thinks the man is making his point for him. ] Why attend at all? She should leave me in peace.

Nay, this is not what I meant. [ ~~This man is just as brash and fierce as Denethor's eldest son...~~ ]

You should enjoy yourself at the celebrations.

[ harrumph. ]

Perhaps. But not at these. Some other festival? Certainly. But I -- [ at a loss for anything more specific, he merely repeats his earlier protestations: ] I don't much bloody care for Chrstmas.

Such a convincing argument. [ Aragorn couldn't help but smirk at this point. ]

Tell me, why do you hold such malice for this Christmas? I cannot say I ever heard of it until now.

You might call it a holy festival, mate. [ the man looks worn and grizzled, so he assumes he isn't anyone too titled. else he wouldn't speak so informally. ] But I call it the day my wife was murdered.

[ perhaps he couldn't be so frank about the situation in luceti but here was a nexusy sorta place and it was no fun playing enigmatic for too long. ]

[ No, he's just a lowly ranger who happens to be the King of Men. Nothing special at all. ]

A holy festival? Ah, now I understand.

[ He pauses briefly when the man announces the death of his wife. Now Aragorn feels quite guilty for stating that this fellow, who suspiciously looks like Boromir, to celebrate such a day. ]

My deepest condolences...

...It's a long time ago, now.

[ well. only a year. but he says it more to ease the man's guilt than anything else. ] Just ain't ready yet.

[ A year is too soon... ] Is there anyway to sway their judgment? You need not celebrate anything that doesn't benefit you.

If only my lady possessed your sense of compassion. Instead, I'm afraid that it will be rum punch for me. [ there are worse ways to spend it, he supposes. even if he won't have the best of times. who is he to complain? ]

Your name? [ he continues -- curious. ]

While I bear very little fondness for rum, I wouldn't complain much if I were in your shoes. [ Still, it's quite cruel to force this man to celebrate such a day. However, Aragorn holds his tongue. He knows how these mundanes are. ]

I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and you?

[ That curiosity is getting the better of him now. He swears that this man is Boromir's double. ]

Major Richard Sharpe. South Essex. [ his brow quirks at the son of part. he wants to interpret it as some rank or title in order to make sense of the social situation, and yet... ]

I thank you for your general support, Aragorn.

[ It's then when Richard finally introduces himself that Aragorn looks quite bewildered. ]

...Richard Sharpe?

[ So it turns out this man isn't Boromir at all. If not, then why does he look nearly exactly like him? From what Aragorn knew, Boromir never fostered any bastard children. ]

Forgive me, but you honestly look like someone I once knew well.

[ and now it's sharpe's turn to look bewildered. it isn't that he hasn't heard such a statement before -- a widow in copenhagan once told him he looked a lot like her dead husband, which should have been reason enough not to ask the girl to marry him but...

ah, well. sharpe isn't always thinking with his head. ]

Someone you once knew well? [ he questions aragorn's use of the past tense. ]

[ Regret settled in his gaze now as he spoke. ] 'Tis rude of me to confess such a truth, but you look nearly identical to another who fallen in battle. Boromir was the prideful Captain of Gondor, Lord Denethor eldest son.

[ A hint of a smile appears. ] During our time together amongst the Fellowship, Boromir proved himself more than worthy of both his name and title.

Prideful.

[ aye. sharpe picks that word out from all the others -- though the title itself was an impressive one. oh, if only he were half as titled. ] Did he earn that one too, mate?

[ A small smile appeared upon his lips. ] That he did, and with great earnest I must add.

Nevertheless, he was a good man and a worthy companion.

Edited 2012-12-04 03:20 (UTC)

I would say I'm obliged for your kind words for my twin, only...

[ it's bloody strange. discussing some man who apparently looks like him. ] It isn't as though I've met him. And I'm not sure I'd care to. It'd be...

Buggering counfounding. That's what.

on him bloody well attending a christmas ball @ luceti

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...beautiful.

I felt the need to do so!

it might be making my day!

Same here!

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