Post by Vala Vespida on Aug 19, 2023 12:15:08 GMT -5
Alvaro's mention of his nephew's fiance gave Vala some pause, and she found herself mentally recalculating her appraisal of the family's standing. Surely, if they were as important as they claimed to be, they'd be able to find a better wife for the nephew than a mere weaver. There had to be something else about her, certainly. It was likely that she had specific skills that appealed to the young man's tastes, but what sort of excuse was that? Wasting the potential for a powerful political union just for a little fun was frivolous to the point of absurdity. That was what mistresses were for, after all. Perhaps the nephew in question was simply part of a poorer branch of the family...but if the family was as wealthy as Alvaro was letting on, how poor could the poorer branches be? Besides, what sort of family simply let their relatives languish in poverty? If a branch was doing poorly, her mother had once told her, then it risked poisoning the entire tree. Either it had to be nourished to strength or clipped away, but simply leaving it as it was was unacceptable. It reflected badly on the whole family, giving cause for outsiders to render harsh judgement. It was no wonder, then, that these Correas had naught but a few mangy dogs to their name.
"Dogs in quilted coats sound like they'd be more at home in a circus than a field of grain," she said, "but if they can pull a plow, I suppose I've little room to complain. It's good that you enjoy the honey, though. We're so very proud of it. Such things are important in a strange land like this, you know? Honey lasts, honey preserves. It can be used in cakes, made into wine, even used to keep fruits from rotting. It's a valuable resource...but even more than that, it's something from home. A shred of the past, to remind ourselves of our legacy. These things are crucial, don't you agree? The little tokens that remind us where we've come from...they allow us to keep our civilization intact, preventing us from descending into chaos and savagery. I wouldn't be surprised if there were roving gangs of savages on this island, people who weren't as lucky as us. Have you seen any such groups, Alvaro? Those who have forgotten what it means to be human, who have become mere animals upon reaching dry land? The risk of such feral gangs is one of the reasons why my family values our seclusion so. I'm sure you understand."
She left the little pot of honey on the table for just a moment longer, giving him just enough time to consider taking another spoonful before she pulled it away. Capping the jar, she slid it back over to her side of the desk, letting it rest conspicuously by her hand. It would serve as an important reminder for the guest, she thought. She was the one who provided the honey, and he would taste it with her blessing.
"Dogs in quilted coats sound like they'd be more at home in a circus than a field of grain," she said, "but if they can pull a plow, I suppose I've little room to complain. It's good that you enjoy the honey, though. We're so very proud of it. Such things are important in a strange land like this, you know? Honey lasts, honey preserves. It can be used in cakes, made into wine, even used to keep fruits from rotting. It's a valuable resource...but even more than that, it's something from home. A shred of the past, to remind ourselves of our legacy. These things are crucial, don't you agree? The little tokens that remind us where we've come from...they allow us to keep our civilization intact, preventing us from descending into chaos and savagery. I wouldn't be surprised if there were roving gangs of savages on this island, people who weren't as lucky as us. Have you seen any such groups, Alvaro? Those who have forgotten what it means to be human, who have become mere animals upon reaching dry land? The risk of such feral gangs is one of the reasons why my family values our seclusion so. I'm sure you understand."
She left the little pot of honey on the table for just a moment longer, giving him just enough time to consider taking another spoonful before she pulled it away. Capping the jar, she slid it back over to her side of the desk, letting it rest conspicuously by her hand. It would serve as an important reminder for the guest, she thought. She was the one who provided the honey, and he would taste it with her blessing.