All Soul's Day- November 2nd, 1888

[valdemars]

Date: November 2nd, 1888
Time: 10:00am - 10:30 am (service- characters may stay for longer, though)
Location: The chapel
Characters: Everyone [OPEN/CLOSED]

Summary: The household gathers together in the chapel for a short All Soul's Day service.
Warnings: None.


The Valdemar family are not, by and large, particularly religious. "My faith," proclaimed Lady Valdemar once, to the horror of her husband's parents, "lies while science and science alone. If God should have a hand in that, so be it. I couldn't care less either way."

Yet here they were, gathered together in silent prayer before the altar and the glassy purview of King Solomon and a host of angels, huddled in the dark pews at the front as if in collective repentance- not that Her Ladyship seems particularly repentant. From the slant of her shoulders to her poker-straight back to the upward jut of her chin, all of her bearing is far too proud for a humble servant; she watches her husband take to the lectern with an almost feline boredom, thin lips pursed. Even a servant watching from a second floor balcony might note the smear of carmine on them, as if brushed on for the sole purpose of better expressing her disdain.

"The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil." Lord Valdemar seems uncomfortable with so many eyes upon him, and he studiously avoids his wife's stare. He dabs at his brow with a handkerchief before continuing. "Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death."

His voice, though low and quiet, echoes throughout the space with a new importance that could only have been built into place by a canny architect with an ear for dramatics. A Madonna relief rolls her eyes piously to the ceiling; a spider inches its way down her shoulder and drops onto the organ, silent for years now.

The final stretch now. "I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite," he finishes- and, the bible closes in a dusty thump. With another mop of the brow, he murmurs something pleading about feeling faint before bolting for the hallway wearing a martyred look.

Lady Valdemar sniffs. "A migraine," she informs no one in particular, rising from the pew. She makes it sound like an accusation. "His health is so tenuous these days."

But for all of her snide comments, that she is the one left rather than her husband does allow for a little breathing room. If anyone should want to light a candle or speak a silent prayer of their own, now is the time.


[This is an open post for all of the household. Threads may either take place during, before or after the service. Lady Valdemar will also be available to speak with, assuming your character is either of the right station or has an excuse to do so- say so in your post's subject line if that would interest you.]

Comments

[ryuuzaki]

"If it's personal, maybe it would be better if you accompanied me."

They were already set to move in the direction of his study, but it was some distance away, through the long picture gallery.

Even when no one else was in the gallery, the painted faces watching from the walls ensured that it never felt like a particularly private location. It felt, instead, like being subject to the collective mild disapproval of generations of Valdemars, all at the same time.

They had nothing to disapprove of, however, except their own failures: if the family had declined to a point where he'd had to take their name to help preserve their status, those pieces had been in play for well over a century. New blood, Latimer blood and Daxter blood, had been their best hope, but it remained to be seen how it would play out. Life had an end, but time, he thought, did not, and he wondered when the results of the experiment would be decided.

If they spoke in his study, or perhaps the library, it would be more quiet, but if they spoke in the gallery, no one would have to continue to feign patience. He'd leave the decision to his brother. L began to walk, gesturing for Robin to follow.

[gentlemanliest]

Rather than being made uneasy by the walls of austere faces, he was quite curious about each of them. Their names, embossed in bronze plagues beneath each portrait, held little meaning or interest to him but for the surname: Valdemar. How strange that they had dwindled down to just the one man standing before him. The weight of their stares was almost certainly far greater on L's shoulders than his own but he had never seen him buckle. Even now, his face remained impassive, unperturbed by this immense pressure.

But that wasn't the sole reason for his dawdling; talking in the presence of such a stern audience was preferable to being locked away in a study. At least here, should either one of them feel the need to quietly slip away, they could do so without much performance.

"It's about the trunks I have stored on the third floor," he said, hoping to stop him before he reached the far doors, "They mostly contain my old military equipment and uniforms and so on but some of the things I brought with me from London are there too." A pause. "Father's things."

[ryuuzaki]

"Hm. Father's things." A noncommittal echo.

The house had been sold years ago, and L's characteristic lack of sentimentality meant that a number of their father's personal belongings had remained in storage. Their father hadn't taken any serious interest in him past the expected paternal one until he was older, almost ready for University--he had been taken up with his work and his new wife and child. But then, L's own interests had proved to be more in line with the elder Mr. Latimer's than Robin's had been, and then in line with Lord Valdemar's... he had slipped from one family into another.

A young Lady Valdemar of the mid-eighteenth century seemed to be gazing down at them both with an expression of curiousity. "I can't say that I have a strong recollection of everything that was placed in storage. Are there any items of particular significance?" A few of his books were in L's personal library, and there was the matter of his mother's jewelry, but....

[gentlemanliest]

"No, not particularly." Again, he applied some selectivity and skipped pointing out that most items of value had been left to his elder brother in the will anyway. He wasn't bitter about it by any stretch of the imagination; it would have done no good to leave such things to the son who would spend most of his time on the other side of the world. "But I thought that you might like to check and see if there was anything you wanted before I disposed of them or put them into a more permanent storage."

Unfortunately, Robin didn't share his reasoned lack of sentimentality and, left to his own devices, he probably would have kept everything in the damned trunks. But this was no time for getting misty-eyed over dusty heirlooms- perhaps he had to reawaken the calculating general still lying dormant inside him.

[ryuuzaki]

L nodded, once, then frowned. Most of those items had been sorted almost thirty years earlier, and again since then. However, because it had been such a very long time, the possibility that seeing something might reawaken his interest in all of it existed. Something else occurred to him, too--people he hadn't considered at the time, people who were very small or, mostly, had yet to be born.

"The children might be interested. It's difficult for me to be certain--they didn't know him. There was a watercolour that Grandmama had painted as a girl... a landscape near Bath, I seem to recall." Old family miniatures, a watch chain or two. Some of them would think it was decrepit junk, but some might regret the chance if it passed them by. It was hard to say who would take which tack... hard for him to say much about the children at all when only Misaya was at home.