video; closed to unseelie

[meloncholy]

[It's Porthos' first time speaking on the network and the picture of him in the locket has a face like a thunderstorm. He is so done with this place and you're about to find out why - ]

It seems in our tumultuous emotional state having first been brought here, my friend and I have managed to insult the imps.

[Or rather Aramis shot one, ran into Porthos, and there was a fight that wasn't fatal but a tad more vicious than a Musketeer vs. imp fingersnap dance routine.]

As you can imagine, they've taken it upon themselves to remind us that we're not forgiven for our trespass. [He won't mention that swearing at them also didn't work, he knew it wouldn't, it just made him feel better.] And since we come from a world where magic doesn't exist, or if it does it's very scarce, I was wondering what could be done to appease them in some way.

[In other words please get the little buggers to stop leaving fish heads in his boots, tugging his beard until he wakes up in the night, etc.]

I will owe a reasonably proportioned debt to whoever can provide good advice.

Comments

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[huntedby]

Perhaps you could treat them with respect. They serve you, and do not deserve to be treated as slaves.

Or things that can be expended.

[The imps are harmless.]

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[meloncholy]

[There's a long pause, before Porthos slowly and emphatically replies - ]

I can assure you, mademoiselle, I never have and never will treat anyone or anything like a slave.

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[huntedby]

Miss Ives, if you will.

[She gives a nod.]

I did not mean to imply that you have. But clearly you have upset them, a great deal.

[On to other subjects.]

I do not mean to be forward, but are you a Moor?

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[meloncholy]

[That's a difficult one, because when Porthos thinks of the term, he thinks of people already settled in France. Not like his mother's circumstances. And on top of that there's the difference in worlds. To avoid any confusion - ]

My mother was from Africa, but she never spoke of where. [She never really had a chance to, but he doesn't want to get into that.]

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[huntedby]

[She gives a small nod of her head.]

There is a man who is in the employ of my patron, [How else can she describe Sir Malcolm? He isn't her friend, nor father. Though there are shades of the latter.] from Africa. His name is Sembene. I have never known a more skilled fighter than he. He has saved my life more times than I care to think.

[Meaning she understands why may have reacted badly to her comment on slavery. And that she does not judge his skin.]

[meloncholy]

[Porthos gives a short nod, although he's not sure what else to say in reply. Back to the imps, then.]

Your concern does you credit. [There. Bygones, as far as he's concerned.]

[huntedby]

Thank you.

[She understands what he's doing.]

To appease them, it depends on how badly you've insulted them. In the stories, gifts of food always appeased such creatures. [Or offers of children, but she won't mention that.]

[meloncholy]

[Probably best, considering.]

That's on the more pleasant end of suggestions. I'm aiming to try a little of everything and in the hope that something sticks.

[huntedby]

They seem to like me well enough; if you would like assistance, I would not mind providing some.

[meloncholy]

Maybe wrangle them towards the wine in case they think I've poisoned it.

[huntedby]

Now why would they think such a thing of you? You seem so upstanding.