Cain Hargreaves (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
misterblackbird) wrote2010-03-15 06:30 pm
misterblackbird) wrote2010-03-15 06:30 pm
Entry 386; Day 451
It's quite interesting, you know, how things can fall out after enough time. A chess game can be played for a very long time and it's only at the very end that one sees the meaning in all of it, or what the real aim of this move or that is.
I wonder if Fakir even remembers stripping my room utterly bare the day I arrived, in a peculiar attempt to keep anything that could possibly be a weapon out of my hands. I didn't object, you know, because that might have given something away.
But now, here it is, nearly three years after that, and I am well-trusted, regarded as a guardian of the opera house, a longtime resident, and certainly by now well above suspicion.
It's so reassuring to have that sort of trust and loyalty.
I should perhaps mention that Rosella has, apparently, broken things off between us. There's no loyalty there, clearly. But I wasn't even aware that there was anything between us.
Apparently she'd been labouring for some time under the impression that we were more than mere acquaintances. Indeed, she thought we were far more, perhaps even courting. Apparently, she thought I was her boyfriend, to use the modern term. It's the first I've heard of it, and here it is at end of it. Apparently she's decided we're over before I'd even thought we'd begun.
More's the pity, I suppose.
I have no idea how she managed to get that impression, though, that we were as close as that. She really is quite dull. She has enough wit to make her seem interesting at a party, but not enough to really carry her through to anything. She's like one of those tiresome games where every answer is a question. It only makes the one asking those questions seem clever. It's really nothing more than parroting things back. She was amusing for a while, and naive enough to twine around my finger, but not really especially useful, unfortunately.
I almost wonder if I shouldn't warn other gentlemen against her. She really isn't as splendid as one might think, believe me.
And, Rosella, as I told you before, it was entertaining, but it was merely a pleasant diversion.
That's always my perpetual problem: finding some way to entertain myself here. I've always had goals and ambitions, of course. When my father has been in the City, I suppose it's been quite clear what my goals were. When he hasn't been here, I've had to create certain things for myself. There are things I want, or things I mean to do. A few of them have come to fruition, I suppose. It's about collecting resources, I suppose--be it money, information, perhaps a few material things, and people, certainly. It's all about putting things to use--to their proper use.
By the way, to everyone in the opera house, I seem to have dropped several pins. I wonder if they didn't fall into the sofa or some of the chairs, or perhaps into something like the flour in the kitchen. Do be careful not to prick yourself on them. I can only imagine how dreadful that might be.
~C.
[ooc: Takes after his father a bit, doesn't he? He is so cursed. So very, very cursed. And while a measure of this sharpness is inherent in his nature (he's not very nice all the time), it's all exacerbated by the curse. Cain's really got enough loyalty in him, but he'll betray people that he thinks deserve it. Also, the pins are not poisoned, but Cain might like people to think they are.]
I wonder if Fakir even remembers stripping my room utterly bare the day I arrived, in a peculiar attempt to keep anything that could possibly be a weapon out of my hands. I didn't object, you know, because that might have given something away.
But now, here it is, nearly three years after that, and I am well-trusted, regarded as a guardian of the opera house, a longtime resident, and certainly by now well above suspicion.
It's so reassuring to have that sort of trust and loyalty.
I should perhaps mention that Rosella has, apparently, broken things off between us. There's no loyalty there, clearly. But I wasn't even aware that there was anything between us.
Apparently she'd been labouring for some time under the impression that we were more than mere acquaintances. Indeed, she thought we were far more, perhaps even courting. Apparently, she thought I was her boyfriend, to use the modern term. It's the first I've heard of it, and here it is at end of it. Apparently she's decided we're over before I'd even thought we'd begun.
More's the pity, I suppose.
I have no idea how she managed to get that impression, though, that we were as close as that. She really is quite dull. She has enough wit to make her seem interesting at a party, but not enough to really carry her through to anything. She's like one of those tiresome games where every answer is a question. It only makes the one asking those questions seem clever. It's really nothing more than parroting things back. She was amusing for a while, and naive enough to twine around my finger, but not really especially useful, unfortunately.
I almost wonder if I shouldn't warn other gentlemen against her. She really isn't as splendid as one might think, believe me.
And, Rosella, as I told you before, it was entertaining, but it was merely a pleasant diversion.
That's always my perpetual problem: finding some way to entertain myself here. I've always had goals and ambitions, of course. When my father has been in the City, I suppose it's been quite clear what my goals were. When he hasn't been here, I've had to create certain things for myself. There are things I want, or things I mean to do. A few of them have come to fruition, I suppose. It's about collecting resources, I suppose--be it money, information, perhaps a few material things, and people, certainly. It's all about putting things to use--to their proper use.
By the way, to everyone in the opera house, I seem to have dropped several pins. I wonder if they didn't fall into the sofa or some of the chairs, or perhaps into something like the flour in the kitchen. Do be careful not to prick yourself on them. I can only imagine how dreadful that might be.
~C.
[ooc: Takes after his father a bit, doesn't he? He is so cursed. So very, very cursed. And while a measure of this sharpness is inherent in his nature (he's not very nice all the time), it's all exacerbated by the curse. Cain's really got enough loyalty in him, but he'll betray people that he thinks deserve it. Also, the pins are not poisoned, but Cain might like people to think they are.]
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