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| Details |
| Author: | Luridel |
| Summary: | Ivrianna Barlowe sent Cressidha a book from her mother's collection as a gift not so long ago. Cressidha has been having some difficulty enjoying it. ~1300 words. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
The book wasn't very good.
First, there were the logistical inaccuracies, which Cressidha was willing to put down to lack of proper research or artistic license on part of the author. 'Their lips met hotly, melting her frost armor spell in a torrent of swirling vapor.' Any self-respecting frost mage's frost armor ought to be able to withstand something so mild as body heat.
Even worse than that, though, was the fact that Cressidha had gone through at least two hundred pages and it was almost like Marcus had forgotten he had a quest of worldly importance to complete.
But Ivri's letter had said that this book had been her mother's favorite. Ivri's mother's favorite book. Did that mean Ivri had read this? Cressidha felt like she desperately needed someone to complain to.
But what if it turned out that Ivri liked the book, and it was Cressidha who was wrong? That would be awful. Ivri went out of her way to give Cressidha a gift that had belonged to her mother, and now Cressidha was being ungrateful? Perhaps there was some sort of appeal to this story that she was missing.
Perhaps the narrative would improve once Nahni and Marcus got on the ship to Kul Tiras. If they ever made it there. Cressidha had experienced a long sea journey once, to Theramore, and she remembered how small and cramped her quarters had felt, and how the boat lurched unexpectedly from time to time. Surely the two of them would be able to stop touching each other for the duration of the journey and perhaps the murloc witch would finally make a reappearance. Perhaps there would be a battle at sea—maybe even in a storm. That sounded far more interesting than all of this… intercourse.
Cressidha looked up at the six different wedding dresses hanging on a rack in her room. Would Ivri want to try these on, or would she just want to pick one and be done with it? She hadn't sounded terribly enthusiastic about her wedding, the last time they had seen each other.
Mail for you, Lady Cressidha.
And then there was Mordecai's letter.
Cressidha,
First of all, Dane and Ivrianna intend to be wed on the 16th of October, so you have a little more time than you originally thought.
Dane has requested that I officiate the wedding, and I have accepted his offer. I will require something to wear, and I would greatly appreciate your assistance in this matter. Something Colson might like, perhaps?
Regards,
Mordecai
That gave Cressidha more time, and it also gave her more work to do, but she had been sitting on several potential designs for Mordecai for months now, so it was less work than it could have been.
So.
She had some free time.
The voyage to Kul Tiras did not improve the book, because apparently Marcus was an old friend of the Captain, who had a room nice enough that it took the author an entire page to describe, and apparently a body nice enough that it took the author two pages to describe, and the good Captain wanted to have sexual intercourse with both Marcus and Nahni at the same time, and instead of communicating about the boundaries of their relationship, they just went ahead with it, and the murloc witch didn't even attack once.
But there was a storm. Nobody got seasick and Nahni's wet dress clung to her curves in all the right places, because apparently clinging to the wrong places could have been a serious possibility, and Marcus and the Captain had both taken their shirts off to have some sort of athletics competition on the deck of the ship in the rain, and Cressidha was seriously considering giving up on this book.
But.
It was a present.
It was a present from Ivri.
She had to finish the book.
Maybe someone else would be able to explain the appeal.
Colson generally preferred nonfiction, and it wouldn't have been appropriate to discuss a novel of this type with Mr. Rhinehart or her parents, which left…
"Mordecai."
Her brother-in-law Mordecai, holding obediently still for the tape measure that levitated around him, made an inquisitive noise.
"Do you read books?"
"Um, sometimes. Why?" Not the most promising answer, but it would do.
Cressidha finished writing out his measurements before she continued: "My friend Ivri—you know Ivri, you're marrying her and Dane—sent me a book of her late mother's."
There was a tight smile and a nod from Mordecai, who undoubtedly had been informed by now that Ivri had suffered a loss in her family.
"And I don't want to sound ungrateful," Cressidha said ungratefully, "but this book is rather mediocre and I don't know if Ivri knows that. She said it was her mother's favorite. So I must finish it, of course, but I shouldn't want to hurt Ivri's feelings if it turns out that she enjoys this book as well."
"Would she send you a poorly-written book as a joke?" Mordecai asked. He looked over at the thick novel currently resting on the side table. "Is that it…?"
"Hm." Cressidha set her pencil and notepad down. "That's it, indeed." She collected the book from the side table and took a seat on the couch, frowning down at the cover.
Mordecai warily sat down next to her, leaving a good foot of distance between the two of them. "What's it about…?" he asked, politely.
"It's a fictional story about a small coastal town south of Stormwind that's been plagued by bands of murlocs," Cressidha explained. "Nahni, a talented young frost mage, embarks on a quest to save her hometown, with the aid of a paladin named Marcus."
"So what… makes it 'rather mediocre'?"
Cressidha flipped the book open to her bookmarked page. "Ever since chapter two, every single chapter has featured some form of… ah… intimate relations between the protagonist and her romantic interest. I'm on chapter twelve, and the plot hasn't progressed at all!"
"Oh." There was a slow blink from Mordecai. "I see."
"It's full of inaccuracies with its portrayal of magic. It's wordy and overly descriptive. The pacing is terrible." Cressidha paused, staring at the book in her hands, as a thought occurred to her. "Do you suppose this is some sort of wish fulfillment on the part of the author?"
"I couldn't say," Mordecai said dryly. "I haven't read it."
"Here." Cressidha shoved the book into Mordecai's lap and stood, beginning to pace around the coffee table. "Read this chapter, you'll see what I mean." With a frustrated huff, she began taking bolts of fabric out of one of her bags, considering.
"If you insist," Mordecai mumbled, and began to read about Marcus and the Captain having a wrestling match above-decks in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Cressidha left him to it, holding up various bolts of cloth next to Mordecai to see how the colors looked with his complexion. For whatever reason, Mordecai was blushing, and it was difficult for Cressidha to tell if he was actually reading or just staring vacantly at the book in his lap.
After a minute or two of this, Cressidha cleared her throat. "Mordecai?"
Mordecai startled and nearly dropped the book. He closed it quickly. "I, um. I need to go. Please excuse me."
That was odd. He'd said he would have time this afternoon. Cressidha reached out to take the book from him, and Mordecai nearly dropped it a second time by letting go a moment too soon. "Terrible, isn't it?" Cressidha asked.
Mordecai stood up very quickly, already moving towards the kitchen. "Mm. Excuse me."
Maybe he was going to make some sort of dessert? Cressidha had to admit, the food Mordecai made always tasted better than anything that she could conjure herself. Shaking her head, Cressidha shut the novel and returned it to its place on the side table. She had a robe to make.