Post by Rister Graas S6 on Jul 29, 2008 12:06:43 GMT -5
“Well, as long as they are happy, everything is alright, no?” Rister replied simply, wondering if some specific reaction was awaited from him. Girl’s minds worked in mysterious ways quite often. But he didn’t entirely know Merry’s parents enough to even have an opinion. Right now, he couldn’t even recall what the girl’s last name was! “Not enough,” Rister mused instead with a thoughtful tilt of his head, “Perhaps. But if there’s no passionate love around, then affection is better than no feeling at all, don’t you think? At least in a case when there’s a duty on your shoulders to have someone as your…” Wife? Mother of your heir? Legal Mistress? “…companion,” Rister finished after a brief moment of hesitation.
Rister blinked at Merry as she nearly poked him in a chest before firing off in her speech. “But why on earth do you think I’m rich?” Rister threw a self-sardonic glance at his jeans and shirt and boots, “I certainly don’t look the part of a high society brat right now.” But lying had never sat well with Rister, so he tilted his head and admitted defeat with a slight curve of his lips: “Besides. My parents are rich. One of my brothers is rich. Possibly two of them.” Because you never really knew about Damon. Among his letters and politics he had earned a bit as a broker, helping to smooth ways and connections to some business operations. But he hadn’t entirely told more. “But me? Until my father decides to hand over the reins to me as I had the fortune – or from your point of view misfortune probably – to be born first I’m poor as a church-rat. Probably even worse off, as church rats get to hope for a donations or a blessing from time to time. Though I suppose it would be possible for a rat to live on consecrated bread. Besides that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of days with honest work. Mine hasn’t, perhaps, just been filled with quite the same experiences as yours and haven’t been made out of need nor wish for a salary.” He could still recall helping to install a new water-mill wheels the last weekend. It had been a nearly 14-hour workday and it hadn’t been an easy day, even with all capable men of the village there.
“So kind of you,” Rister muttered to Pip, smirking at his exasperated glance, before peering at Merry. He wasn’t even that surprised. He had been prejudiced against often enough because of who he was, what he was like, his reputation, money. All of it. He was used to bring prejudiced against, but usually the haughty glances were directed towards his last name rather than his money. “Good thing not to be rich. Do you suppose then that I should become a modern version of a monk, owning only the garb on his back and a staff cat from a tree-branch? Give up the legacy my family will give me and wonder the world aimlessly?” Rister questioned with a deceivingly lazy tone of voice, having countered arguments similar – in essence – to Merry’s numerous times before, “If you believe in that. Then you should also bring out your wand and snap it. Because muggles work, due to exchange rate a poor wizard is far richer than a poor muggle, so if you so firmly believe that solely those poor can be happy? You should break your wand, give up on magic, and live as a muggle. Or are you happy only because you are a witch? I can’t help having been born in a rich family no more than you can help being born as a witch.”
Rister turned to look off into the distance with a pondering look in his eyes. There was a lot about his life he didn’t like and a lot that he did. And in the end, the good things outweighed the bad. Nothing was perfect. No one was perfect. And he had been trained, for lack of a better word, for the duties and responsibilities he would have to take over one day. As part of that preparation Rister had been the only one who had been shown and who had been allowed to read the entries of his ancestors in numerous tomes that gathered the pages of lessons and thoughts of heads of the family. Most of the books had had to be copied often as the time had faded the original ones to be nearly illegible in places, even though originals were carefully kept as well. There had been those who lied, those who cheated, those who were idiotically noble and chivalrous, those dwelling so deep in books and fantasy they let the life slip away, those who had been schooled by life itself, those cowardly and pathetic, those born leaders, those who had their hearts broken, those who had been happily married. There had been all sorts of people, but the entry of every man started with the same words that they all believed and trusted in. For the sakes of the family. Rister had wondered what dad had written or would write, but his father had firmly told him that it wasn’t his to know until Kris had died. “The strong can’t take changes, they couldn’t indulge in weakness even if it was safe, even if there was someone strong enough to be their strength. No, they have to stand on their own, even after their back has broken under the weight,” Rister quoted, the shapes of the calligraphis words appearing before his eyes as clearly as he could see Merry’s face.
Rister shrugged simply, not elaborating on the meaning of the quote. “It will have obligations and duties. But when the time comes I’ll take over and manage. I’ll handle the tasks and duties, the business and finances, marry a witch and produce an heir to keep the lineage going, make sure there’s a safe haven for family to come to in times of need, because that is what I have been grown and taught to do. I’m sure there will be difficult times and choices, but if you truly believe the so-called ‘poor’ don’t have problems, then you’re naïve,” Rister stated calmly, unaware how like his father he look at that moment; how like the sharp strong-willed man he was just beginning to turn into. When the time come he would step up, lift the duties on his shoudlers, he wouldn't falter, wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't fail. That unconscious display of inner strength disappeared back into him from sight however, as Rister raised his arm in mock-surrender: “I do now know what any of those are. My sincere apologies, my ladies. Or should I be high-tailing it towards the nearest book-store by now to redeem myself?”
Chuckling quietly, Rister didn’t offer any sympathy at Merry: “Even worse. You should get a fantastic guy as your first boyfriend. How else would you hope for something even better? If you settled for some mediocre or random thing or person, then from where should the guy get the motivation to work for anything better? Though I can see the reasoning behind see what’s on the selection, so you’d appreciate the fellow you finally settle on all the more.” Rister’s amused smirk only widened at the warning Rosa received: “If you can’t be a good role-model, be a threatening example? And of course, just look at where your sister is now. A pretty, witty girl, collected, knows what she wants in life by the looks of it – at least guy-wise -, a modern Cinderella who can take care of herself. Of course a dreadful person to take as an example, don’t you think? Though admittedly, she turned down free ice-cream. I find it a appalling, if a girl doesn’t appreciate the fineness of ice-cream,” Rister confided in Rosalind, earning a wide smile and a giggle as reward.
“You get the credit of posing the mystery in the first place,” Rister told Merry with his most heart-melting smile, “And I promise. If you’re still curious and haven’t figured it out, I’ll let you know my full name back in Hogwarts.” Rister gave his most haughty glance and the two laughing girls, even as he bent his knee and blew the bee away again: “And if I the most highly regarded Bee-Prince? If that bee comes to circle you two sweethearts, you’ll know it’s revenge over laughing at me.” Rister turned his head and glanced after Rosa who ran to join the game. “A little future Gryffie?” Rister pondered out loud at Merry’s words, “She has herself. I’m quite sure she can take care of herself. As you said yourself – even after being bullied, she got up and still uses the swings and plays.” Rister grinned quietly at his own words being thrown at him, even as he nodded seriously: “And she has Pip. It’s older brother’s duty to look after younger sisters.”
Rister blinked at Merry as she nearly poked him in a chest before firing off in her speech. “But why on earth do you think I’m rich?” Rister threw a self-sardonic glance at his jeans and shirt and boots, “I certainly don’t look the part of a high society brat right now.” But lying had never sat well with Rister, so he tilted his head and admitted defeat with a slight curve of his lips: “Besides. My parents are rich. One of my brothers is rich. Possibly two of them.” Because you never really knew about Damon. Among his letters and politics he had earned a bit as a broker, helping to smooth ways and connections to some business operations. But he hadn’t entirely told more. “But me? Until my father decides to hand over the reins to me as I had the fortune – or from your point of view misfortune probably – to be born first I’m poor as a church-rat. Probably even worse off, as church rats get to hope for a donations or a blessing from time to time. Though I suppose it would be possible for a rat to live on consecrated bread. Besides that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of days with honest work. Mine hasn’t, perhaps, just been filled with quite the same experiences as yours and haven’t been made out of need nor wish for a salary.” He could still recall helping to install a new water-mill wheels the last weekend. It had been a nearly 14-hour workday and it hadn’t been an easy day, even with all capable men of the village there.
“So kind of you,” Rister muttered to Pip, smirking at his exasperated glance, before peering at Merry. He wasn’t even that surprised. He had been prejudiced against often enough because of who he was, what he was like, his reputation, money. All of it. He was used to bring prejudiced against, but usually the haughty glances were directed towards his last name rather than his money. “Good thing not to be rich. Do you suppose then that I should become a modern version of a monk, owning only the garb on his back and a staff cat from a tree-branch? Give up the legacy my family will give me and wonder the world aimlessly?” Rister questioned with a deceivingly lazy tone of voice, having countered arguments similar – in essence – to Merry’s numerous times before, “If you believe in that. Then you should also bring out your wand and snap it. Because muggles work, due to exchange rate a poor wizard is far richer than a poor muggle, so if you so firmly believe that solely those poor can be happy? You should break your wand, give up on magic, and live as a muggle. Or are you happy only because you are a witch? I can’t help having been born in a rich family no more than you can help being born as a witch.”
Rister turned to look off into the distance with a pondering look in his eyes. There was a lot about his life he didn’t like and a lot that he did. And in the end, the good things outweighed the bad. Nothing was perfect. No one was perfect. And he had been trained, for lack of a better word, for the duties and responsibilities he would have to take over one day. As part of that preparation Rister had been the only one who had been shown and who had been allowed to read the entries of his ancestors in numerous tomes that gathered the pages of lessons and thoughts of heads of the family. Most of the books had had to be copied often as the time had faded the original ones to be nearly illegible in places, even though originals were carefully kept as well. There had been those who lied, those who cheated, those who were idiotically noble and chivalrous, those dwelling so deep in books and fantasy they let the life slip away, those who had been schooled by life itself, those cowardly and pathetic, those born leaders, those who had their hearts broken, those who had been happily married. There had been all sorts of people, but the entry of every man started with the same words that they all believed and trusted in. For the sakes of the family. Rister had wondered what dad had written or would write, but his father had firmly told him that it wasn’t his to know until Kris had died. “The strong can’t take changes, they couldn’t indulge in weakness even if it was safe, even if there was someone strong enough to be their strength. No, they have to stand on their own, even after their back has broken under the weight,” Rister quoted, the shapes of the calligraphis words appearing before his eyes as clearly as he could see Merry’s face.
Rister shrugged simply, not elaborating on the meaning of the quote. “It will have obligations and duties. But when the time comes I’ll take over and manage. I’ll handle the tasks and duties, the business and finances, marry a witch and produce an heir to keep the lineage going, make sure there’s a safe haven for family to come to in times of need, because that is what I have been grown and taught to do. I’m sure there will be difficult times and choices, but if you truly believe the so-called ‘poor’ don’t have problems, then you’re naïve,” Rister stated calmly, unaware how like his father he look at that moment; how like the sharp strong-willed man he was just beginning to turn into. When the time come he would step up, lift the duties on his shoudlers, he wouldn't falter, wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't fail. That unconscious display of inner strength disappeared back into him from sight however, as Rister raised his arm in mock-surrender: “I do now know what any of those are. My sincere apologies, my ladies. Or should I be high-tailing it towards the nearest book-store by now to redeem myself?”
Chuckling quietly, Rister didn’t offer any sympathy at Merry: “Even worse. You should get a fantastic guy as your first boyfriend. How else would you hope for something even better? If you settled for some mediocre or random thing or person, then from where should the guy get the motivation to work for anything better? Though I can see the reasoning behind see what’s on the selection, so you’d appreciate the fellow you finally settle on all the more.” Rister’s amused smirk only widened at the warning Rosa received: “If you can’t be a good role-model, be a threatening example? And of course, just look at where your sister is now. A pretty, witty girl, collected, knows what she wants in life by the looks of it – at least guy-wise -, a modern Cinderella who can take care of herself. Of course a dreadful person to take as an example, don’t you think? Though admittedly, she turned down free ice-cream. I find it a appalling, if a girl doesn’t appreciate the fineness of ice-cream,” Rister confided in Rosalind, earning a wide smile and a giggle as reward.
“You get the credit of posing the mystery in the first place,” Rister told Merry with his most heart-melting smile, “And I promise. If you’re still curious and haven’t figured it out, I’ll let you know my full name back in Hogwarts.” Rister gave his most haughty glance and the two laughing girls, even as he bent his knee and blew the bee away again: “And if I the most highly regarded Bee-Prince? If that bee comes to circle you two sweethearts, you’ll know it’s revenge over laughing at me.” Rister turned his head and glanced after Rosa who ran to join the game. “A little future Gryffie?” Rister pondered out loud at Merry’s words, “She has herself. I’m quite sure she can take care of herself. As you said yourself – even after being bullied, she got up and still uses the swings and plays.” Rister grinned quietly at his own words being thrown at him, even as he nodded seriously: “And she has Pip. It’s older brother’s duty to look after younger sisters.”