|
|
Saturday, December 3rd, 2005
| |
11:28 am - Episode 6: Old School Chums
|
|
| Thursday, October 27th, 2005
| |
10:50 am - Episode 5: The History Mistress
|
violet_ireland
|
Roland tried to shuffle his desk into some semblance of order. There was never a convenient time to be ill but, sun and stars, this was worst than most. Miss Fate had no doubt done her best to keep up with accounts and creditors, until she herself had been forced to take to her sickbed, with more success than he had dared to hope, but there were still all the papers to be transferred from Miss Weatherby to Mr. Malloy, and of course they must all be approved and signed by him, and nothing could move forward with the case until that was done, and he had learned, in ways more painful than he could possibly have imagined that legal document should always, without exception, be read before signing. More delays. Worn down as he was, he would probably fall into tears if he thought on it too much. Where was all the optimism that had possessed him not two weeks earlier? He'd probably coughed it to pieces or blown it out his nose.
( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, September 15th, 2005
| |
10:36 am - Episode 4
|
|
| Wednesday, August 17th, 2005
| |
9:29 am - Episode 3
|
|
| Saturday, July 16th, 2005
| |
2:36 pm - Carderacademy relaunch
|
|
| Saturday, June 18th, 2005
| |
3:07 pm - Cardershire Academy v2.0
|
|
| Wednesday, March 9th, 2005
| |
10:36 am - This be the Mix
|
|
| Sunday, January 16th, 2005
| |
4:49 pm - Word from the Management
|
roxann_ireland
|
Hey y'all, just a quick note to say that though this site has been idle for--good God!--over three months, it has not in fact been abandoned. There has been quite a bit of running around backstage, and much work being done, just not so's you could see it. More on this shortly.
|
|
(12 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, September 17th, 2004
| |
6:33 pm - Josey and Roland do lunch, 15 June, 18--
|
roxann_ireland
|
Roland always said he had no head for maths, a statement which never drew any contradiction from Miss Fate, who never failed to correct his attempts at the school accounts. And yet with his own money, he ran unconscious calculations on every half-penny that passed from his hands. It was not something he liked to admit. Frugality was not generally a trait Hounds admired in one another, attributing it either to miserliness or lack of boldness, a sort of fiscal timidity. It wasn't, as some might think, that he hated spending money, or that he worried some misfortune would throw him back into the gutter. He had no fear of poverty. No, it was that he was accutely aware what each sum of money was. ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, July 29th, 2004
| |
10:08 am - Josey and Ada have lunch, 13 June, 18--, pt 2
|
violet_ireland
|
"Well, if you keep finding yourself amongst the unicorns without meaning to," she observed, "the unicorns must feel in need of your mulish company."
Josey thought about this for a moment, then cocked one sardonic eyebrow and replied, "I know why unicorns prefer the company of mules and ponies. It's those lovely, sharp horns of theirs. You get too many unicorns crowded into one place, somebody always ends up getting stabbed in the back." ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, July 27th, 2004
| |
5:29 pm - Josey and Ada have lunch, 13 June, 18--
|
violet_ireland
|
Note: The Marquess of Queensberry, in addition to being the father of Lord Alfred Douglas and the destroyer of Oscar Wilde, was the man who established the rules that set the standard for "fighting fair"--known to this day as the Queensberry Rules-- and formalized the sport of boxing.
Josey decided to take the omnibus rather than a cab. Cabs were an extravagance he didn't need, and besides he liked the bustle and tussle of being out in public when he was played out. ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, July 8th, 2004
| |
7:57 pm - Letter from Mr. Roland Ireland to Miss Valeria Fate, 13 June, 18--
|
roxann_ireland
|
Dear Miss Fate,
I went to see the barrister, Mr. Simon Malloy, yesterday. He strikes me a tremendously shrewd, capable fellow, and I'm very glad to have him on our side. I understand he represented you in a previous court action, so perhaps you will know better than I how much he can be relied upon to protect the interests of the school. He will be coming down to Cardershire sometime in the coming weeks to interview some of staff, including yourself. Since Mr. Wales is in town already, I do believe Malloy will get a head start with him. He is concerned not only with those staff members who were at the school when Wiseman was exposed, but also to make sure that opposing counsel cannot prejudice the case with any new accusations, and he seems concerned about some of Wales friendships before he came to the school. While I laud Malloy's foresight and precautions, I honestly cannot imagine our young missionary doing anything the least bit vicious or unnatural. He is so frank and easy in his manner, it hardly the demeanor of a man with a guilty secret.
This afternoon, I went to visit my old friend Father Gray, and meet some of the children he has recommended to us for when the school opens its doors again. I must say, I'm quite delighted with these young people, who show the evidence of some hard knocks, but also of the spirit and pluck needed to overcome them.
How are you getting on at the school? I feel terrible, leaving you to look after everything by yourself, especially since you were ill the day we left. I hope you are better and that it was, as Wales said, a simple headache brought on by too much sun. At any rate, I shall be back soon, with good news, I hope, are at least no new bad news to add to the pile. As always,
Your Friend,
Roland Ireland
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Saturday, July 3rd, 2004
| |
12:30 pm - Roland in the Offices of Simon Malloy, Esq., 13 June, 18--, part 2
|
violet_ireland
|
Roland blinked in surprise. "You know Miss Fate?"
"After a fashion, yes. I served as advocate during her divorce, several years ago." With his free hand he reached for a piece of parchment, placing his withered palm flat upon the paper and slowly dragging it toward him. "Which may, I fear, prove something of a problem."
"A conflict of interest?" Roland asked.
"Oh, no--apples, oranges, these matters, legally speaking. Except that..." Malloy gazed at him thoughtfully. "Well, these are matters of public record and despite their having bloody nothing to do with your school, I suspect your opposition may drag it in. Miss Fate--Mrs. Lowry as was, when I knew her--did not petition for divorce; her husband did, for cause, and his cause was purportedly that his wife exhibited 'depraved instincts.' " Malloy raised his eyebrows. "The implication being, I believe, just what you think it is, or close enough for opposing purposes. Not a whit of truth to it, needless to say, but the proceedings grew rather nasty. I don't particularly blame her, really, for abandoning any defense." ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| |
12:29 pm - Roland in the Offices of Simon Malloy, Esq., 13 June, 18--
|
violet_ireland
|
(Walking-fever = polio. Rabbit in the stew = sense in the head. Sly = disabled, crippled; has derogatory overtones)
"Tea, sir?"
Roland jumped; lost in his thoughts as he was, he hadn't felt the persistent little tug on his sleeve, nor heard the subsequent soft, apologetic voice offering him refreshments. "Yes, thank you," he said.
The secretary, whose dark hair and lavender dress put him vaguely in mind of Miss Fate, set on the end table before him a tea service and biscuit tray, pouring him a cup with one swift, skilled tilt of the wrist; a fragrant, delicate leaf and, though he was no expert on the subtle permutations of teas, clearly worlds removed from the cheap, potent black stuff he had grown up drinking. Ginger biscuits on the accompanying tray, and lemon, and chocolate, and some sort of little orange-cream confection he might have found irresistible at age eight.
The attorney Miss Weatherby had referred him to--supposedly far greater the expert on their particular dilemma than she (or perhaps just less leery of the consequences of handling such matters, he reflected with a flash of cynicism)--evidently had quite the sweet tooth, and judging from his waiting room furnishings evidently also labored under the pleasant delusion that it was still 1850. Well-padded armchairs, harpstools and floor-cushions, all upholstered in the sort of silk stripe long since banished from fashionable homes as hopelessly Georgian (pity Mr. Blackstone wasn't here to stand and applaud), dark heavy wood, fine plaster moldings upon the ceiling and, on the opposite wall, an oil painting featuring what appeared to be a lavish lakeshore picnic but which, upon closer examination, proved to be a visual allegory of the Chain: Hounds standing nobly in the foreground by the shore, Pets sitting or lying adored at their feet and, in the verdant background, Hares unpacking picnic baskets, picking berries from bushes and one, with a sidelong glance of amusement at the Hounds, secretively fondling a half-naked Pet. Whether the painting was a promising omen or not, Roland thought with both asperity and amusement as he sipped his tea, he wasn't entirely certain. ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, May 25th, 2004
| |
6:32 pm - Josey and Robbie, 12 June, 18--
|
|
| Saturday, May 29th, 2004
| |
9:58 am - Letter from Mlle. Marie Bertrande Shcherbatskaya to Msr. Percy Weasley, 12 June, 18--
|
roxann_ireland
|
My dear Friend,
What is this talk of foolishness? You speak as though you deserved to have been made unhappy for daring to love. (You do not say as much, but I cannot imagine that anything else could have left you so full of bitterness and self-reproach.) ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, May 14th, 2004
| |
7:29 pm - Roland in London, 12 June 18--
|
roxann_ireland
|
Roland joined his parents for breakfast the next morning, then, after his stepfather left for another day at the brewery, sat for an awkward hour or so with his mother. Neither he nor his mother could do what they wished to do, read and clean, respectively, for fear of putting out the other. If she went about her usual chores, she would surely disturb his reading, and if he read while she sat idle, she'd undoubtedly feel ignored and neglected. So they sat and made their usual stop-and-start attempts at conversation, until he announced his intentions to go visit Father Gray, to her obvious relief. Picking up his jacket and hat, he told her not to expect him for lunch, and headed out the door. ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Saturday, May 1st, 2004
| |
9:49 pm - At the hotel--Robbie/Josey NC-17
|
roxann_ireland
|
It is never easy for Robbie to throw the first punch. He has to be provoked, goaded beyond the reach of the voice in his head that says Careful! Careful! anytime he moves too freely and too fast. So Josey provokes him, stands up at his full height, walks circles around Robbie with a long stride, a swinging swagger. Bigger than you. Bigger than you, says Josey with his body, both a taunt and a reassurance. ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, March 2nd, 2004
| |
5:20 pm - Josey and Robbie at the hotel, 11 June 18--
|
roxann_ireland
|
Robbie sat back in the armchair, smoking and watching Josey examine the hotel room. Clearly, he was impressed, as well he ought to be. The place was damn expensive, but worth it, if only for the sympathetic discretion of the staff who no doubt, rigorously tested all the furnishings and fittings themselves quite regularly. ( Read more...Collapse )
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Friday, April 23rd, 2004
| |
1:03 pm - Robbie and Josey, 11 June, 18--
|
roxann_ireland
|
They had a quiet dinner at a small German restaurant. Robbie was still picking at his half-eaten meal as Josey was scraping up the last bit of potato from his plate. Looking over at his friend, Josey suppressed the impulse to nag at him to finish his dinner, and had a sudden fantasy of tying Robbie's hands to the chair behind him and feeding him forkfuls of food until his plate was clean. Not that Robbie would ever submit to or forgive him for such petsy treatment, but the image, brief as it was, was compelling.
Finally, Josey sat back in his chair and asked, "How is Oscar?"
"I don't know." Robbie's face was deliberately expressionless.
Josey frowned. "I thought you were going to go see him today."
"Yes, I thought so too." Robbie cut a big piece of pork and stuffed it into his mouth. Well, thought Josey, if that's how he wants to dodge questions, I suppose it's one way to get him to eat. Under Josey's questioning gaze, Robbie swallowed several more bites of food, clearly not tasting them, barely chewing them.
"So they didn't let you see him?"
"No." He washed down an over-large mouthful with a few swallows of wine.
If Robbie wanted to make this difficult, Josey had half a mind to let him sit and stew, but he was so obviously miserable that Josey continued on. "Why didn't they let you see him?"
"Well, actually," Robbie said, "I was allowed to see him, along with every other triumphant philistine and gawker packed into the courtroom."
He held up his glass and Josey refilled it for him. "But you weren't allowed to meet and talk with him."
Robbie downed half of it in one long swallow. "No. I told them that I was handling Oscar's affairs and acting on behalf of his family, but they wouldn't let him talk to anyone."
"What did you do?"
"The only thing I could do." Robbie's voice shook. "I stood outside the courtroom, waiting form him to be paraded in like some freak at a freak show, and raised my hat to him as he passed.
God, poor Oscar. Poor Robbie. The helplessness must be killing him. "Did he see you?"
Speechless, Robbie nodded, and wiped quickly at his eyes. Josey wondered what he could do, how to help Robbie without suggesting that Robbie needed it. They sat silently together for a few minutes, until Robbie looked up and said with an irritable growl, "Let's get out of here."
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
|
|
|
