Much as she might dislike the fact, Sabine has returned to the school - albeit without Rafe and Paolo dogging her footsteps. There's something to be said for that. However, the girl's aware that sooner or later, the erstwhile Cursebreaker-cum-professor is likely to seek her out to discuss matters with her...
     Not the least of which pertain to her grandmother's message and Bill's own stated desire to speak to her in private...
     And then of course there's this business with an eight hundred year old faerie man who claims to be a king.
     No, all in all, Sabine is not in the best of moods upon her return to Hogwarts; but she has much to think upon, and little space to think within. That space is lessened by the distinct irritation which is provoked by being a Slytherin surrounded by idiot non-Slytherins, being grounded from the team, and not having anyone to confide in. By the time classes have finished for the day, the girl has a strenuous need to unwind - which she is presently doing in one of the practice dueling chambers, laboriously going through feint and counter-feint, step and slide, to the best of her still damaged capacity.
     Madam Pince would have a fit if only she knew.

     Dodge, feint, counter, spin... and then quiet applause from the corner as a certain red-haired professor steps out of the shadows and into the light. "You're quite good, your highness," Bill offers, as he lightly flips his wand in one hand, as if testing its balance.
     Walking around the edge of the dueling circle, he adds, "I hoped I might find you somewhere away from the crowds. I think it's rapidly becoming obvious that we have a few things to discuss." A faint grimace. "More than I even realized, what with the appearance now of my ancestor."

     "Weasley." Perhaps she's doing it deliberately, in the knowledge that there's noone else around to hear or interrupt; not 'professor', not 'your highness'. Sabine turns, coming to a halt and holding her wand between both hands, trying to ignore the faint flush to her face, the slight sheen of perspiration.
     However, she's well aware that it's certainly true enough; grudgingly, the girl takes a small step back. "I'd say this is as uncrowded as you're likely to find," she mutters. "Normally once the door is locked noone can get in anyway - but being faculty, of course you can override that."

     "Even without being faculty, I would be a pretty sorry senior Curse Breaker if I could not get through this door," Bill adds, perhaps a little dryly. He pauses for a moment, and then reaches into his jacket to produce a small package. "Two things. First...consider this a peace offering, your highness." The package is tossed onto the table beside the dueling ring. "And second... before we go any further in this matter, I want to know your wishes."

     The package lands, and while Sabine doesn't jump - either in startlement or to see what it is - there's a wary curiosity in the Slytherin's gaze as it flickers from table to professor and then back.
     "A ... peace offering." The words are laden with suspicion, even as she slowly moves over to the package, one hand coming off of her wand to reach for and begin fumbling open the parcel. "Your highness, you do realize what to most of my kind a peace offering is?"
     She means Slytherins, of course - to whom a 'peace offering' is 'something to lull the other person into a false sense of security until you can stab the bastard in the back'; otherwise, 'something to convince the other one to leave you alone long enough to find a way to stab him in the back'. Certainly, that's the Gryffindor take on it, and while it's perhaps not that simple, neither is it entirely off base...
     "My wishes on which?" One dark eyebrow rises at that; Sabine is on more confident ground there. "Your ancestor? I have already said that I will See for him."

     "I realize that in the Game, a peace offering can be either a decoy, something to keep one off-guard... or a formal gift intended to offer or seal an alliance," Bill replies calmly enough. "If you choose to take it as the first rather than the second, that would be your own business. However, I think you'll find it useful in its own right."
     The package contains a pair of sturdy leather bracers. Each has a gem inset in the center, inscribed with several mystic charms and runes. To Sabine, who's seen Bill fiddle with his earring, it's obvious enough what these must be; crafted with Bill's own talents as an artificer and the techniques he's learned as a Breaker, they're the equivalent of a Breaker's Gear, their enchanted equipment which they use to make their task of exploration safer and easier.
     "As for your wishes... I mean about this potential engagement," Bill replies.

     "Mm." Sabine is by her very nature suspicious of any peace offering, but she turns to open the package the rest of the way nonetheless. As the bracers are revealed, she falls suddenly silent, giving the Breaker a sudden sharp glance, wordless and uncertain before the dark gaze drops again to the table and what is upon them.
     "My wishes," Sabine says finally, still not looking upwards, "have very little to do with things, your highness. We both do know this. But how much choice would I be likely to receive in such matters, regardless?" It hurts her pride to admit it, but it is certainly true enough - between being Rom and being of royal blood, such matters tend not to exactly be of choice. "Why are you asking?"
     She glances up again, suddenly narrowing her eyes. "Before I say more, I would know that, professor."

     Rather than yet answer, Bill first nods towards the bracers. "The gem on the right one can hold up to 10 charms, hexes or spells... each of those runes around the edge is attuned to one. You can fill it as you choose, and you need only touch the rune and will the spell it holds to be cast. I use the trick with my earring to store complex spells which I may need to cast quickly."
     He indicates the other bracer. "This one, you can't change the spells in; it has a set I put together. You'll notice each of the runes has a color; you can tap the one for 'light' and the bracer will work as a light-source, tap the one for 'trap' and it will glow when you're near a trap it can detect, another for hidden passages -- a spell of my own devising -- and several others. It also works as a focus-stone, to amplify spells you cast, and as a centering mechanism."
     The young professor looks over the bracers for a long moment. "As for why I made these, they are not a bribe. They're yours, plain and simple. What I said before is true; house, kumpania and all else aside, you are one of the very few I've seen who have what it takes to be a good Breaker. It's a tradition among the Breakers that whoever first scouts your talent makes you your set of interim Gear, until you craft your own additions to the set after your first solo mission." Ah, traditions.
     Now, he looks back at the girl. "Sabine... you're a princess of the people. You have power and wealth, but many of your decisions are made for you, and many of the things you feel set you apart are handed to you. It's why you play Quidditch, isn't it? Not just because it's good practice, but because to shine as a Chaser is something you achieve for yourself, not something your family and lineage hands you...and it's something you can choose for yourself, rather than having decided for you. That's also why you would make a good Breaker; that drive to prove yourself by yourself, to achieve things, is what we call Breaker's Heart, and it's what drives us into dark, trapped, deadly tombs."
     A pause. "So, in some way, I understand. And few enough things in your life are of your own choice... but this one, I have the choice to make or break the engagement, as your grandmother has said, and so I give you the choice which path we follow."

     There's a scowl from the girl as she glowers down at the bracers, and she folds her arms over her chest, shoulders hunching. It isn't that she's not listening; rather, it's in reaction to what's being said.
     After all, she wouldn't analyze and assess people to their faces if they were comfortable with it...
     "I'm a better Seeker than I am Chaser," Sabine mutters. It's not a real answer; but it's what she says. Abruptly, she turns away, stalking with arms still folded over to the far wall, glowering at it instead - as if facing the professor would be somehow a mistake.
     It seems that now that she is actually being given a choice, she doesn't know what to say - perhaps that explains all her goading and taunting. Trying to get Bill to make the decision so that she would not directly be to blame...
     "Why," Sabine asks finally, voice low, tensed, "would you -want- it to continue? Aside from the entire fact that you -are- a Gryffindor, and I am a Slytherin; your entire family is comprised of Gryffindors, Weasley." She isn't talking about the Marshalls, now. "You know they wouldn't take it well - do they even know? Or have you held off? And, of course, there's the age difference - and the fact that," she adds unsmilingly, finally turning though still with her gaze kept averted, "I am a relentless shrew. An interest in my future career hardly seems the sort of thing which would cause you to marry."
     A Malfoy, perhaps. But a Weasley?

     "I don't doubt you're a better Seeker," Bill replies. "That's the position I played when I was on the team. You're a good Chaser, but you're underused in the position." A shrug. "Though, much as I hate to admit it, Malfoy is actually a fairly good Seeker." Prat though he might be.
     A long pause. "As to why I would want to continue with it? When I look at you, Sabine, I do not see Ruthven princess, or Slytherin girl. I see someone who burns to prove herself, and who has what it takes to become a Curse Breaker if she wanted... but more importantly, who holds herself back because of her perceived duties. One thing you'll learn about me, Sabine, is that unlike some of my family, I regard other things as more important than school Houses; Breakers come from all Houses, and one of my best friends in the Corps is a Slytherin graduate. Breakers transcend House boundaries, and we look for potential, for talent. That's what I see in you. And no, I haven't told my parents yet, or my family, because if you decide this is not what you want, there's no reason to tell them."

     There's another scowl, though it's aimed at the floor. This would be so much easier if Bill were being an unreasonable prat! And unlike Ron, or even the twins, any of whom she could press buttons and watch them start up, the Curse Breaker is proving most intractable in that regard.
     Damn him, why won't he sodding react?
     "Malfoy is a better Seeker than I am, by now." She can admit that freely - if nothing else, she hasn't played as a Seeker since she started at Hogwarts. And it's a relatively 'safe' thing to say, as she adds pointedly, "And unlike some people, Malfoy has -always- seem some worth in me."
     She paces slowly back and forth, staying within the confines of the circle as if caged to within it, occasionally stealing looks over at the Breaker, none of her usual stillness with her now. "...All of what you've said explains why you'd want to recruit me. I will give you that - you paint a compelling image, as far as the Curse Breakers go."
     Sabine comes to a halt again, unfolding her arms and lowering her wand to rest along her skirt-covered thigh, looking over her shoulder at him. "However, the last I heard, the Breakers don't recruit by way of marriage. In fact, from everything that I've heard about you - you've avoided even the idea of marriage or commitment for a rather long time. So ... am I missing something, Weasley? Or is it just that you don't want to tell me, for fear I'll then use it against you?"
     "Or ... that you think I've already or will have Seen it for myself?"

     And at Sabine's final question, Bill does react, glancing away. His silence is perhaps answer enough.

     "I see." Sabine's voice is almost unnaturally high-pitched, not quite shrill. The wand is very carefully slid into her sleeve - with unnecessary care, in fact, so controlled is the movement. She turns to walk to the table, refusing to look at the professor.
     "You know," the Rom princess states, voice now acerbic and dry enough to desiccate watermelon at twenty paces, "it may have escaped your notice, professor, but while I can See for others, and occasionally I am granted flashes of insight about my own path from those Seeings - I cannot See for myself. In fact, the more something affects me directly - the more the case in question involves me, the less I can See."
     The gauntlets are placed ever so carefully back in their wrappings as she continues, her face turned downwards to the task, gaze hooded, emotion kept carefully out of sight. "While there are ways around this - they are costly, both in the materials which must be obtained, and in the amount of energy which must be expended, and they can be quite unreliable. Or, to put it another way, Weasley..."
     She takes a deep breath, keeping her composure only by an act of personal will.
     "...If I could sodding See for myself, do you really think I'd have sodding gone with my aunt?"

     "The reason I've never settled down," Bill says, finally. "Is a simple one. Consider my life, your highness; born the eldest son of a poor family, I've been pressured since childhood to prove myself, to show a Weasley can be more than what the Malfoys claim we are. Seeker, Prefect, Head Boy... Curse Breaker. Somewhere along the way, trying to prove myself, I grew hungry not only for that, but for the exhilaration when you solve a puzzle, when you find manuscripts or artifacts which have lain untouched for centuries, or millennia."
     "On top of that, I become a blood-sworn member of the Marshall royalty, and initiated in the Marshall lore," Bill adds. "And it doesn't stop the drive. I still have a Breaker's Heart... I want to break new ground, to come across artifacts and rooms where the last human eyes to gaze upon them are long since dust. And all the women I've dated wanted me for various reasons -- the knowledge that a Breaker has a claim on a percentage of the treasures they bring back, the bragging rights of dating a senior Breaker, or just the thought that I was handsome in their minds -- but none of them wanted me, just the idea. And none of them had what I wanted."
     A pause. "It's obvious, if you think about it, but Gringott's doesn't really publish the statistics. Few Breakers remain married, because a spouse can't handle someone that driven, always running overseas to explore some dusty tomb in search of some mouldering artifact. The exceptions are when they're married to other Breakers, or people in similar careers, because only someone else that driven can understand a Breaker."
     He looks back to Sabine and adds, "I didn't mean that I thought you had seen it with Sight, the mystic kind. I meant I thought you had already seen the logical connection; you cannot tell me that you look at your Slytherin housemates as viable husbands in the same way you would another of the Rom. Not just because of obligations, but because a gadje would be hard-pressed to understand what drove you or the way you thought."
     To the comment about Sabine's aunt, he's quite clearly for once at a loss.
 
     She listens in utter silence and stillness, face half-hidden by the downwards drop of her chin, the sooty eyelashes lowered to hide any emotion or expression which might otherwise be revealed in an unguarded moment. But she is listening; her posture remains alert for all that she does not look up...
     "Ever since I could think and understand," Sabine begins, voice very low, almost inaudible, "I have been reminded both directly and otherwise of what others will believe, Weasley. Rom or gadje alike - I cannot hide my Sight from anyone who is in close confines with me. I would do as well to hide my very existence; it is woven through and through me. I hide it in plain sight, here - only those who actually avail themselves of my Sight believe in it. I know this."
     There is a momentary bitter satisfaction in her voice as she speaks, still without looking. "Most think me a devotee of that idiotic would-be Seer, Trelawney. I let them think what they like; if it makes them underestimate me, after all, so much the better, for me and for those of my House, and for those of my kumpania, yes? But there is a price beyond what anyone knows; entirely aside from mystical prices."       Her tone alters, losing the satisfaction though none of the bitterness, her knuckles whitening as she clenches her fists on top of the gauntlets. "No man I could ever even look at would believe that I would be unable to read him as the simplest black text upon a blank white page - his intentions, his beliefs, his desires, his fears - his very life, he would think as easily read by me as if he whispered it to me in advance. Husband, your highness? I have been fortunate when there has even been kindly flirtation - and that has been only with those who do not entirely believe in my abilities. No, I know full well that any man who wants to marry the princess royal of the Ruthven kumpania will not want -me-."
     Light refracts off falling crystalline liquid where it lands on the table's surface. Sabine does not say anything or move to wipe it up to call attention to it - if it goes unnoticed, so much the better. A moment later, she speaks, voice quiet and contained : "So, you see, your highness, what I want really doesn't matter. I satisfy myself with what I can get."

     "I may not have the Sight, nor enough knowledge to know what you might or might not see, but I also know that between a husband and wife, it should not matter. Perhaps you could See glimpses of things... is that so different than how I can sometimes see your thoughts when they slip through the mask you normally wear?"
     Bill shrugs. "My silence was not because I believed you had Seen things and was ashamed, or because I wished to keep anything from you, but because I was taken aback... at first I thought you were deliberately trying to force me to say it, knowing it already."
     Moving to the Slytherin girl's side, he rests his hand on her shoulder as if to lend some comfort. "What you want matters a great deal, Sabine. As for the rest... if you say those who would marry the princess royal of the Ruthven line would not wish you, then perhaps it is lucky for me that the girl I see, who I admire, who I consider a good match is you."
     His hand lingers a moment more, and then is removed. "I've said enough for tonight. If you choose to sleep, then rest well. If you feel you want someone to speak to -- on anything -- then I'll be in my office." And then he withdraws.

     She stiffens slightly, perhaps shocked - perhaps indignant, or perhaps just utterly at a loss. Then the chin ducks back down again stubbornly.
     Weakness is very un-Slytherin, after all, isn't it?
     Sabine says nothing, remaining standing with her hands still on top of the parcel, making no move to call Bill back. It isn't as if she trusts her voice right now - even though it means remaining standing in silence, alone in the dueling chamber, even as she'd entered it.

Posted by rowan at March 23, 2004 02:14 PM