To Each His Own Should Learn. (Raoul Edouard)

[lyddietalise]

Having gained a bit of insight whilst recovering from a sprained ankle in the village, Lydia wandered once again in the manor. She wore something new which she had gained from a woman in the street. The woman had been quite old and yet very kind to her. After all, she had done nothing to deserve such a trinket but the woman insisted, and as such she wore it with pride. The clothes she wore fit her quite well, though she had yet to be used to the styles of modern day wear, she agreed that she enjoyed the way the denim jeans made it a little easier to run compared to the heavily dresses that never seemed to fit her. Her hair was tucked behind a scarf that made her face look thinner than it truly was and kept up by bobby pins which she had found to be really useful gadgets.

The corridors seemed not to change much but she had yet to know what more lied hidden upon such a mysterious building. The man she had met did not give her much detail on the story nor did he knew of how she could have ended up in modern times, but she no longer wanted answers. She had made a friend and for a short time it was nice, but people often grew tired of her for she was shy and often times tried to remain unattached. Lydia stopped in her tracks upon a dark mahogany door that was closed shut. Most of the other doors she had seen while wandering about had been wide open, but this one was different.

Leaning against a wall across from the door, her hazel eyes starred deeply at it in thought. What was it about her that she could not attach herself to people? She had but one friend in this place and yet she wasn't sure she could consider the young girl as a friend. The girl seemed rather displaced from the world herself, frightened of everything. Lydia hadn't truly taken the time to get to know her well, either. She wanted to change but it was difficult. A heavy sigh was released and she pushed off against the wall in disappoint. What was behind the door?

She reached for the door knob and wrapped a rough hand around it. A door that was closed was never to toyed with. Did she really wish to risk the chance in finding out what was in there? Deciding that she had nothing to lose, Lydia attempted to turn the knob. It was locked. Groaning, she tried to remember what she had been taught about picking locks. It was such a dim memory now that she was sure she must have forgotten but either way, she took the main pin that held the scarf on her head in place and began picking away at the lock with great frustration. The pin was beginning to curve and twist in awful directions. "It's hopeless..." She muttered to herself. Her accent was thick. A mix of Puerto Rican and French.

For a moment she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling through her nose. Now that she felt a little more calm she tried to open the lock once more and finally got it open. She squealed with excitement like a child who had just received the wish of their dream and jumped up and down in a dance of pure joy. Removing the pin she had used to pick the lock from the key hole, she frowned. It was no good now. Placing it in one of the jean pockets, she fixed her white blouse and with a shaking hand opened the door.

To her surprise the room was lightly lit. It was a room she had not expected to find. One filled with many swords, bows and arrows, sparring dummies made of wood and some even made from sacks of old flour. Her heart nearly jumped from her chest, her fingers tingled with a familiar feeling. Secretly, Lydia had let herself get lost in the feeling of killing, of fighting, of watching the life leave the eyes of her victims. She hated the job, yes but the feeling of being able to overpower someone had begun to excite her.

Silently, she walked in and looked around in awe. She did not have to kill anymore and for that she was glad but she wanted nothing more than to feel a sword be grasped in her hands, hear the sound of it whistle as she swung the sword in an expert move. She was no perfect swordsman...woman, but that didn't mean she couldn't improve. Her only hope was not to run into anyone who would ask questions. Grabbing one of the more lighter sword, she held it up with her right hand and felt the cool metal of its core in her left. A chill ran down her spine and she swung the sword once. The sword whistled and she giggled with delight. Little did she know, someone had caught sight of her, just as she did not want.

[Raoul Edouard de Chagny]

Edouard had just left his suite in the dormitories and was about to go to the dining room for lunch. He had met a young lady that said she was named Christine Giselle, but she looked exactly like the woman he knew as Christine Nicole. They had had a lovely day in the village and he couldn't stop thinking that he had made a very nice friend in Nicole. But now...she didn't even remember him. Perhaps it was for the best. Emilie, his wife would probably not be happy about Edouard having a rather close female friend.

Raoul thought perhaps he would find a book in the library to read while he ate lunch. So he planned to stop at the library and find someting interesting. He walked down several of the long hallways, stopping to look again at the various pieces of art that were displayed in the corridors. Huge, porcelain vases with beautiful designs were displayed on top of credenzas and small tables. Glass figurines and sculptures were also set on thesse tables. When he had first come to the mansion, he noticed that everything was dingy and dirty. Dust and grime were everywhere. Now it was sparkling from the windows to the stone floors. The woodwork had been polished, as had the wooden credenzas and tables. The wall hangings had been carefully dustted, even thought they were badly sun damaged being set on walls directly across from the bright sun.

The library was down near the end of a hall, but before that, Edouard saw a door partially opened. His curiosity got the better of him and he wondered what was in that room. He hadn't noticed it before. Perhaps it hadn't been there before. He noticed that some rooms appeared almost spontabeously. Perhaps of course, it was just because he hadn't noticed, but Edouard was rather perceptive and he didn't think he had missed it.

Edouard put a hand on the partially opened door and peered inside. He could see it was a room with weapons displayed, and also a place for practice. Mostly swords. That fascinated him and he went inside, completely unprepared for the young lady who was already there. She was dark haired and pretty and...she had a sword in her hand that she slashed through the air and giggled softly. Edouard stood there watching her for a moment, then spoke, "I'm sorry ....I did not wish to disturb you..."

[lyddietalise]

Due to the important bobby pin missing from the scarf that had hid her hair under the yellow fabric, the scarf fell to her shoulders almost like a hood to a lavishing and bright cloak. Her dark curls rested comfortably in the crook of the scarf as she swung the sword once more, this time much more forceful and harsh in movement. Just then she had heard a voice speak up. All she had heard of what had been said through the whistling of the sword were the words "Disturb you." making her drop the instrument of death until the equally cold ground as she gasped.

Someone had caught her. That was her first thought. Someone had caught her and now she was in for a questioning. Turning slowly on her heels, her hazel eyes peered at a figure, keeping away from looking at the persons face at first. She wasn't sure what to expect. Not here. Not now. But as her eyes slowly brought their gaze up toward the person who had disturbed her joy, she saw not a man who looked murderous or full of questions, but someone who was rather dapper and quite handsome to boot. Most likely a rich man, by the way he dressed. It wasn't like that of the modern clothes of the people she had observed in the village yet it wasn't completely like that of mens wear in her time.

"I-I...I did not realize someone had been watching." She mumbled more to herself than to him as she curiously tried to figure him out with just a glance. Turning her back on the young man, she picked up the sword from the ground and placed it on a nearby table with a heavy sigh. Perhaps her fun was over now. Surely a man of his stature would not find it appropriate for a woman such as herself to be wielding weapons or even find enjoyment in such a thing as that.

Peering over her hunched shoulders, Lydia seemed disappointed but was able to hide it quite easily. "I suppose you've come to tell me I should not be here." She said in a thick accent that took on a tone of anger. The voice of her mother rang in her ears.

A woman must respect the wishes of a man. It is not for the woman to be dominant. You must listen to the voice of men. For theirs is the knowledge of the world. Lydia flinched at the sound of her mother's voice in her head. She never truly was one to believe in the dominance of men. But the life of a woman was not meant to be one of questions. Or so her mother had told her.

[Raoul Edouard de Chagny]

The pretty dark haired woman gasped as she became aware of Edouard's presence in the room. She had been using the sword as if she knew how to use it. Edouard smiled. It was not often that a woman would want to be in a room full of weaponry, let alone pick up a sword and slash the air as if it were her opponant. "I say, young lady, how long have you been fencing?"

She said she hadn't been aware of anyone watching. She had a thick accent that was quite pleasant to his ear. Edouard couldn't quite place it. "I must confess, I don't know much about it. I had a few lessons when I was in school, but never showed much potential. You, however, look quite spectacular with that sword in your hand. " Edouard went to the the table where she had laid the sword and picked it up. "A good one too, heavy, well made...and quite a work of art. I can appreciate such things."

Edouard's eyes took in the weapons contained in the brightly lit room, bows and arrows, swords, sparring dummies and more. Some practice protective suits and masks were hung in one corner. On a far wall were some pistols. Edouard walked over to them and looked. They were all of excellent quality and several calibres. Edouard was a peaceful man generally and not easily roused to anger. But to defend himself, if it were necessary, Edouard would choose a pistol over anything else. Direct and to the point. A good weapon for intimidation of enemies too. He turned back to the woman and the swords. They were indeed works of art. And she was too. She had dark eyes and the curls and waves of her voluminous hair surrounding her face with exotic looking features would make her stand out in any crowd. She was a lovely woman indeed.

Edouard gazed at her for a moment. He then laughed a bit. "Sorry, I haven't introducted myself...that was rude.... I am called Raoul de Chagny, but since there are several of us her with the same name, my friends and acquaintances call me by my middle name Edouard. Please do so yourself. And you are...?"

[lyddietalise]

"F-fencing?" Lydia stuttered slightly, she never was good with being around people but she quickly regained composure and was able to seem confident. Still, Lydia had not been well taught in the ways of the world, or at least not in the things she did. She had never heard of the term in her life though she supposed it had to do with her knowledge in wielding a sword. By the look of satisfaction on the mans face, she knew that that had to be it. And yet she was surprised. No scolding? No yelling of what it was to be a proper woman? A smirk came across her face, instantly. "I was taught to fend for myself when I was a little girl." She began it was one of the only bright memory she had of her past up until her thirteenth year.

She was quite proud, though fearful of seeing her mother through any man she met. Now that she knew and understood that this man seemed impressed she felt quite confident in what she had been doing. Now, though, the violent urge to practice had ended and for that she was greatful. That ob had taken its t0ll on her for so many years. She was no murderer...At least not purposefully. "A sword is one of the best weapons you can find, señor."

She began to slowly walk about the room herself, losing her in memories of the past. Her hazel eyes darkening a bit. "Reliable...sturdy...s-.." Her face burned red hot as he complimented her swordplay. Not many people would have said such a thing back at home. Though she supposed it was quite odd for a woman of her height to be knowledgeable in the ways of the sword. "The sword dancing dwarf..." She whispered to herself. That's what they would call her. She blinked away the memories and came back to the real...what seemed to be the real world and looked up at the refined man before her.

As she saw him take in the weapons she notice his gaze upon the pistols. "I've never seen machinery like this..." She muttered, her feet unwillingly walked over toward them and toward the stranger to get a better look. "But I would prefer a sword any day." Her hand gently grazed over one of the pistols, it was cold but not the satisfying cold that a sword often had. It was more a ghostly cold, one that made a shiver run up her spine in hatred for such a thing. As such, she pulled away and took a slight step back.

Lydia was the type to know when someone or something was not to be trusted and she ust did not like the feel or the cold chill that machine gave her. She had seen the things of this world, machines to cook with, moving pictures...but this...this thing...she could not take a chance.

The moment she felt his gaze shift from the pistol to her, she caught his eye and could not help in blushing once more. It was more out of habit than anything. But when he laughed her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. until he had introduced himself. "Edouart..." She repeated using a 't' rather than the 'd'. It was a habit of most Puerto Ricans and Latin Americans in general to mistake certain letters and sounds due to their accents. She really did not meant any harm. Some names were harder to pronounce than others. A soft laugh escaped her lips, as she realized it wasn't right but what could she do? Instead of attempting to pronounce his name once more, she decided to introduce herself. He seemed...alright. She wanted to change, to let the world know her and this was the start. Hesitantly, she replied. "Lydia...My name is Lydia." She answered slowly.

[Raoul Edouard de Chagny]

"Yes, fencing - the art of swordplay, whether in sport or defense. You are quite good at it. Of course I have not seen you against an opponent...and I did do a bit of fencing myself, but for sport, and it was a long time ago. I have not kept up with it. I expect you would vanquish me in a moment should I be up against you. " He laughed at the thought, which probably would be true.

A sword is one of the best weapons you can find, señor, she said. "I agree," said Edouard. "However it has it limitations. Distance, for one. I can shoot something quite a distance away without showing myself, if I am in danger. The sword is close to my opponent and can be easily flipped out of my hand and then I am defenseless. However, I agree with you that there is a bit of mystique to a beautiful sword. I would certainly not use if for defense though, only sport."

The woman began to walk about the room looking upon the pistols. She called them machinery, which seemed strange to Edouard. Perhaps it was the difference in language. She touched one of the pistols and seemed to shiver as she pulled her hand away. Perhaps she hated the kind of killiing of which a pistol was capable.

Edouard caught the woman's eye and she blushed. He smiled. He liked her, although he really didn't know anything about her...even her name. He gave his name and she pronounced it with her unusual and lovely accent. He again wondered where she was from but he liked how she said his name. Then she finally gave her name as Lydia. "A beautiful name," said Edouard. "And quite fitting for a lovely lady..."

[lyddietalise]

She gave a soft laugh as well and waved his comment off. "I highly doubt that." She muttered. There were times when she often believed she could vanquish anyone who dared cross her path, but that wasn't Lydia. That wasn't her way of doing things. That job was just for the perks. It helped her fade away from the memories that continued to stir up her past. It helped her with the insane pain that kept going through her as she remembered her parents had given her away without even a second thought. Life wasn't all magic and unicorns. Life was a living Hell and that job helped her keep that in mind.

Listening closely, Lydia kept her gaze on him for a moment, nodding slightly and then frowning. Did he mean that? Someone could actually beat her from a distance? What had the world come to? Did they not believe in the fairness of a fi-...Lydia laughed quietly to herself. She never fought fair. What was she thinking? She didn't understand the capability of the machinery but she was willing to learn and wasn't too slow of a learner with the right teacher. "I suppose you have a point..."

Her eyes flickered back and forth from the guns to her hand. These kind of killing machines seemed barbaric, almost as though they could be used without a sense of honor, without meaning behind it all. Her eyes looked pained as she wondered how many lives this could take, guilty and innocent and shivered again. "I-is it cold in here?" She stuttered more to herself than anything else, wrapping her arms around herself and caressing them as if to make the goosebumps on her arm fade. She was oddly very cold but how could it be fear? She'd killed before, though she wouldn't come to admit it to anyone. Not that anyone would have believed her. That was the benefit of being a woman. An innocent face and bright eyes would never be the fault. In fact, most people would think a woman of her height, build and innocence could never find it in them to even wield a sword. And yet here she was.

As she looked back up at the man before her, she couldn't help but smile a little. Most words that she said came out in the thick accent but were quite understand, but with his name she could not understand the trouble she'd had with the last 'd'. Either way he didn't seem to mind and as such she did not make an effort to fix it. Once more as she heard him compliment her, she blushed, not used to comments like that. But Lydia was scared. You see, it seemed this man had been attempting to be kind to her and Lydia found it quite hard to befriend anyone and out of fear it only grew more difficult when they began to treat her so kindly, still she wanted to change and though one of her feet pushed back as though she were taking a step back, she took a deep breath and remembered. She wanted to know people, wanted people to know her. "It's too bad I am not a lovely lay.." She mumbled, more as a joke than anything.

[Raoul Edouard de Chagny]

"Not a lovely lady?" repeated Edouard. He wondered about her handling of the sword. Could she have som secret that she was not telling? "How did you learn fencing, Lydia? Who taught you, I mean. Is it not a bit unusual for a woman to wish to learn this sport? Although, I have nothing against that thought..."

Lydia seemed to have an odd way about her. Cynical, perhaps? He wasn't sure. He felt a reluctance on her part to speak about herself. Did she have a dark secret? Edouard knew everyone had secrets they didn't wish to share. Lydia's seemed far below the surface though, something that was in the essence of her. Her comments about herself seemed self-depreciating. Was there something of herself she didn't like? Often women were self depreciating about themselves and there were many reasons that they did that. But Lydia...she seemed a different story. There was no way to tell though, unless she wanted to speak about it. Edouard didn't want to offend her by asking too much. Instead he said, "How long have you been swordfighting, Lydia?"

[lyddietalise]

When Edouard repeated what she had said, she nodded in confidence. Though she had only meant it merely as a joke, sometimes she did believe she was not as lovely as people made her up to be. Her heart stopped as he began to question her, but she tried to keep a calm demeanor about herself. "...Who...Who taught me?" She repeated slowly. Her body language changed only slightly as she faltered in trying to keep calm. Being questioned was never once of her favorite things. After all, Madame Giry tended to question her quite a bit on the days after Lydia ventured off the night before. It was hard for Lydia to really keep people on their toes when they continued with the questions.

"No one." She answered rather quickly, shifting her eyes from left to right out of fear. How was she to tell him that her "master" had began teaching her at the age of eight as a way to defend herself from people. Would he ask about how her "master" was? Would he question her past? All Lydia wanted was to put it behind her. After all, killing Jakar had led to her hidden career. Still, she couldn't bring herself to answer truthfully. As such, the young girl took a deep breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth. Having calmed down she was able to look him straight in the eye.

"Sport? The art of sword fighting-" She began again, refusing to call it fencing, as she was not used to the term. "was merely learned because I felt the need to. After all, it is a dangerous world, señor." Her hazel eyes which though seemed dead, darkened quite a bit. "One can never know...when the need arises for defense. And without a man for protection...A woman must fend for herself, non?" Lydia's word were like that of venom. Sly and cunning as she was, Lydia did hope that she was not frightening the man as she began to walk about the room, one foot at a time in rhythm.

Soon enough though she could tell the man was getting curious, as most people did when they started to notice how curious this nineteen year old girl really seemed. She truly did feel bad...She was not one to lie to anyone...Not purposefully. God damn that job! She hated what she had done...the lives that were lost...It had been her fault, but of course she could tell no one and as such she had to become a great liar. As he asked another question she brightened up a little. Her body language completely changing once more. She was no longer defensive. Answering how long would give nothing away. It couldn't hurt. "11 years..."

[Raoul Edouard de Chagny]

//OOC: I am SO sorry this took so long...//

Edouard couldn't quite pin down what it was in her body language that tipped him off to the fact that she was holding back, perhaps lying to him, in answering his questions. But he felt she was not saying everyting. Not that it really mattered. Let the girl have her secrets. He liked to watch her though. Her fencing moves were so good, she was rather a joy to watch. He knew she would probably be able to take him easily in a fencing match quite easily. He had not practiced his fencing for years. He wondered how she'd be against one of the Eriks. It probably depended upon which one.

Then she said cryptically that no one had taught her. He was quite sure she had to be lying about that. No one learned those perfect moves on their own. But he didn't comment on that.

He sat down in a comfortable chair and continued to watch her. "Don't mind me, just go ahead and practice. You are a joy to watch." Then she said she had been sword fighting for 11 years. He frowned. "You were just a child when you first learned this? Why, I imagine you could hardly lift some of the swords...." He smiled at the thought of a little girl struggling valiantly with a heavy sword.

"And of course it is a good thing to be able to defend yourself. I admire that in a woman. Most only look to a man to defend them, which of course is not wrong, provided there is a man always about to defend her. But what of the time when she is alone? Most have no defenses. You are one of the unique ones who can defend yourself. I admire that."