Breakfast, this morning, was accompanied by a note from Geroux. I can remember, not so long ago, when I would get sick to my stomach at the mere thought of any correspondence from him. Funny how time changes one's feelings on certain matters.
There was nothing of interest mentioned in the note itself, rather that he wished to discuss an interesting proposition with me over dinner tonight.
I wonder what it could be?
* * *
At first dinner appeared to be the standard, if not, completely extravagant affair I had come to expect. None of my favourite ornaments were in attendance (they stayed in my room) but I found myself surrounded by all the other pomp and circumstance - room decor and table setting fit for royalty - that accompanies a dinner with Geroux.
Except there was one addition - a rolled up piece of parchment.
I unfurled the scroll to reveal a vibrantly, colourful advertisement for an upcoming Ball, a few towns over.
"A Ball?" I asked, curiously. It did not appear that Geroux was planning a Ball - despite his wealth he seemed so far removed from that life.
The thought crossed my mind that surely, he was not considering attending the Ball? This man I have come to know, who barely ventures out into the world, who occasionally screams like a banshee during the night due to an apparent illness (an ailment of which I am still none the wiser) suddenly wishes to attend the social event of the season?
I suppose I have seen stranger things... several instances in the past few months immediately spring to mind.
"I was in town," he said. "I saw posters all around the square and wondered if you would do me the honour of accompanying me?"
He was almost sheepish in his request, a trait I found rather endearing.
For a veritable recluse, the fact that Geroux was interested in attending such an event was quite astonishing.
I said I would have to consider his offer. He told me to take as long as I needed to ponder the invitation, but to keep in mind the ball was this weekend coming.
And whilst that news regarding the Ball alone would have been enough for me to write about, an opportunity presented itself that has warranted an extension to this entry.
* * *
When I first unrolled the poster for the Ball, I noticed an unusual stain on the bottom corner. I could not quite work out exactly what is was.
Then when Geroux initially started explaining how excited he was about the Ball, he could barely sit still. I let him talk uninterrupted. He laughed heroically about how awkward he had been in the town square, trying to retrieve the poster, bumping into people and carts. In fact, he said he had been so excited at the prospect of taking me to the Ball, that he injured his hand when he ripped the poster from its nail, in a flurry.
That's when I realised the stain on the bottom of the parchment was Geroux's blood.
After we finished out meal, I excused myself from the table, thanked Geroux for dinner and his invitation, then retired to my bedroom for the evening, poster in hand.
Now I as write this entry, to my left sits the blood stained poster, to my right I have a cup of tea. Honestly, I have never dipped paper into a drink before, but based on my limited experience with Geroux's blood, I imagine this stain should somewhat impregnate my drink.
My rather nefarious plan is to replicate the experience of whatever happened that first time Geroux gave me his blood-infused concoction, albeit with a reduced illusory effect this time. The difference, aside from the dosage, is that I want to experience this myself, away from him, in the safety of my room.
There is so much I still do not know about Geroux and hopefully, with this drink, more can be revealed about this fascinating gent, who appears to harbour so many secrets.
Thus, I look forward to sharing my experience in the next entry.
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