|[Original Fiction]: YAVNC, Chapter 8
||[Jun. 16th, 2008|04:17 pm]
7340 words. Not sure what I think of this part.
"So," Claudine Thomas said after French class, "that new girl seems to've made quite an impression on you and Stani."
"She's very nice," Dermot said. "We get on well. And besides, hospitality is the foundation of society"
"She acts awfully strange. Perfectly polite, sure, but it's like she came from another planet and read some books about how to act like a human being. And she's got that nose in the air New York toff accent."
"She can't help what she sounds like. Any more than you can help sounding like the Queen of Saint Expédite when you speak French."
Claudine narrowed her eyes. "And I should imitate Monsieur Comeau's bayou twang, or try to talk like Mademoiselle Burroughs, an Anglaise trying to sound like an habitante?"
"No, you shouldn't. No more than Ashley should try to sound like someone she's not. Your nurse and your mother raised you to speak plus correct que Sa Majesté, non?"
"That's French. English is different. And even in New York, nobody sounds like that unless they're trying to. I've got cousins there, for God's sake. Sure, they go to the prep school, but they don't sound like Eleanor Roosevelt."
"And neither does Ashley, really," Stanislava said, coming up from behind Dermot and laying her hand on his arm. "She pronounces more of her r's, and her dipthongs are almost Tidewater." She grinned. "Not that it matters to me. I'd want her for a friend if she sounded like an ancient Etruscan bricklayer."
Dermot nodded. "So would I."
Claudine flushed lightly. "Look, I'm sorry. It's none of my business, but... I like you two. We've known each other since middle school. There's something about this Mundy girl. I'm... concerned for you."
"Merci bien, Claudine," Stanislava said. "Truly, I'm grateful for your concern. But I don't believe there's anything wrong with Ashley, however unusual she may be. I suppose it's possible that her great grandmother was a sea maiden or a selkie, but that's not her fault, is it? Any more than it's your fault that one of your ancestors was supposed to be a sea monster."
Claudine snorted. "Right. The Merovingians said they were descended from a sea monster because it gave them big juju among the savages in darkest Germany, and my lots-of-greats grandfather said he was descended from the Merovingians because it gave him big juju among the savages who called themselves French nobles in the Carribean. For the same reason his wife said she was the daughter of the king of Congo, because it made her acceptable.
"Look, Stani, I'm not saying she's a... a douen or one of your elf girls or something. I'm just saying she's... a bit off. Like somebody who'd break your heart and never even know she'd hurt you, or understand how and why."
"Whose heart?" Dermot said. "Mine, or Stani's?"
"I was thinking both, actually," Claudine said. "She seems the type."
St. Expédite is sort of like Haiti, only stable, a monarchy, and moderately prosperous. Claudine's grandmother (I think) was a member of their royal family.