ataraxion | ０１１．ＶＩＤＥＯ

They are already forgiven, signore. How does one dance in France?

There is still a fondness for the Rigaudon in the countryside of the South; it is a dance with a cheerful, hopping steps, preformed in couples. In Paris though, the vogue among some is still the Minuet; a slow dance with small, graceful steps to lighter music.

There is also a racy new dance called the can-can that has picked up popularity, but it is considered somewhat vulgar.

[He smiled, shrugging his shoulders up neatly.]

That is how some dance, in France. I usually dance poorly, myself.

Are you fond of dancing, signorina?

Usually; but sometimes you dance very well?

[ she grins, inclines her head. ]

Very fond and I have not done it for a terribly long time. Shall you teach me?

Maybe usually was an immodest word choice. The truth is bleaker...

[Well now he was going particularly red and looked even more sheepish, if that were possible.]

You might suffer by such a bad trainer.

Perhaps the student shall educate her tutor?

[Forever Scarlet.]

I don't think I dare refuse such an offer. One would think me daft.

Then, it would be an honour, Mademoiselle .

Please do not judge my two left feet too harshly.

You have warned me and so they would not be judged! Only complimented.

Then... you must name the time, and I would have you compliment me.

Even if you do it out of sweetness and not justice.

Tonight! Or tomorrow, both would do me well. I will not sleep tonight and I will be in the risk of being bored throughout tomorrow.

Then I will come tonight, as I should hardly like to be accused of making a lady wait.

Where in the gardens might I find you?

Near a tree of apples so impressive as to put the others to shame!

I know the very tree. I will be there shortly.

[He'd bow a bit, despite it being over that clunky device, then shut it off.

He wasn't quite used to how freely men and women interacted on board, but he did enjoy it-- the mix of time periods and decorum, how simple it was to talk to women here, and not feel as if you were being forward by wanting to hear their ideas.

Finding the tree, he smiled a bit shyly and bowed his head a little in greeting, a few books tucked under his arm that he'd brought for her to peruse, as promised.]

Signorina Borgia?

Edited 2013-06-22 20:00 (UTC)

Such haste, I must be honored!

[ because he really didn't take much time at all. She rises, all gold and silks, hurries to greet him with an elegant curtsy. ]

Indeed. Yet I must insist on 'Lucrezia'.

O-oh.

[He made a little bit of a face, seeming to waver on the spot, at being old he'd come quickly; perhaps it seemed too eager? But, well... books. And meeting a historical figure.

Nonetheless, as was his norm, he went a little red and bowed his head. Both in greeting to her curtsy and out of sheepishness.]

Lucrezia, then. It... is a pleasure.

I took the liberty of bringing Dante, and one tragedy in French. I hope you don't mind the extra burden to carry back with you?

A more wonderful burden has yet to come to this world. Come. we will walk and you will tell me of this tragedy you have brought me for a few moments. Will I shed many tears over the pages?

Oh-- all right.

[He agreed, before clumsily offering an arm to her, having forgotten for a moment that he ought to. He shifted the books to the other so it was possible.]

I admit that I have. It is about war and hope, individuals and armies. A topic that seems to be relevant across times and cultures. The desire for change, and the imagination that only violence can bring it about. I'm sorry, though; tell me if I offend you by bringing such things to mind. They can be moving, but also harrowing.

[ she laces her arm through his, smiles up at him. ]

No. Tell me more. Which war is it? who fights who and what do they hope for? I will hear more of it.

[When he has her arm, he begins to stroll with her, knowing his way about this section of the garden to a tee. He would go slowly, but was a bit out of step with her nonetheless, owing to a combination of natural unease, excitement over the topic at hand, and a bit of mild flustering from taking a lady on a turn about the gardens in the first place.]

You have a wonderful curiosity. [Complimented, with a small smile.] It is an epic, having taken thirty years to write-- more years than we have taken so far to write ourselves. It is a tragi-comedy, which retells the religious wars of the seventeenth century, stripping them of the beauty and majesty poets of the eighteen century lent them and showing the lives of soldiers and martyrs starkly, instead. There are a number of battles, and philosophy in between their recounts. The Europeans fight each other, and they all hope for God I would say.

Religious wars?

[ she frowns at him; she knows of Islam and she knows of the Jews but there are no wars. Still, the seventeenth century is so well beyond her, and she knows much can change. ]

Who fought who?

You may not wish to read it, if I spoil the whole of it.

[Undoubtedly, it would sound like a fiction to someone from before it, as much of the 'modern' literature on board did to him.]

Shortly, the whole of Europe fought itself. There was the Thirty Year's War, begun between Protestants and Catholics in the Holy Roman Empire.

Then it became rather political, with the influence of France. But the religious issues were not quite solved, one might say.

Who are they? These - Protestants? Of the Catholics of our Holy Mother Church I know what there is to be known but what are they, these protestants who would fight them?

They are of the Reformation, Mademoiselle Lucrezia. They also believe in the Catholic God and Christ, but they are not Catholics. Three differences in their doctrine make it so that neither side agrees and they can see no compromise. Protestants believe that the Bible should be followed to the word, and as such, do not believe in purgatory or pray to saints. They believe that salvation through works of goodness is not possible, nor by confession; only in absolute faith, with the core trusting that those who will be saved are determined before birth and not during life. They say man is a vehicle for God's good, and so man has no good of his own, as they derived from original sin.

Lastly, and I am sorry if it shocks you-- they do not think the Pope the Vicar of Christ, nor grant him the powers of ex cathedra.

[He would feel badly for rambling, likely, just as soon as he noticed he was. But as religion was another favourite topic of his, believing in over fourty himself... well. Er.]

-- It is blasphemy.

[ and it shocks her, it does. that the holy mother church had split so, that some do not believe in purgatory, then what is left? heaven and hell and where would Lucrezia be in that sort of choice? where would all the Borgias be in a world that does not know the Holy Father? ]

To some.

[He agreed, lightly, not wishing to offend. As someone who believed in the possible co-existence of all religions, over fourty in number, he didn't very much ascribe to heresy as an idea.]

And due to that, of course, there was no reconciliation of these interpretations, and there was a long war.

I hope I have not shocked you out of sorts, Mademoiselle?

You have shocked me but not out of sorts. I have never thought there would be any Christians that would refuse to know our Holy Father. Was there a winner to this...war? The one you told me about?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[->Action?]

» action;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I'm so sorry that he's walking wordspam!

hush he's lovely

<3

no subject