OUR FOREST OF THORNS | tbosas ✔️

011 || When Least Expected

CHAPTER ELEVEN —    When Least Expected ..

______________________

          Daphne had to neat out the creases on her dress for the thousandth time as she sat outside the Congress chamber, within the Justice Hall. The cushioned armchair in which she waited was the closest to the shut black doors which challenged the immensity of the hallway's height. So far above, the ceiling posed truly peculiar questions about just how they had managed to lift those chandeliers to the very top, but not for a second did it cast a shadow of doubt that whoever had designed the building interiors had one single thing in their mind on which their focus formed a tunnel vision: power.

The wallpapers, Daphne noticed after hours have turned her into a statue on that chair, were nothing of particular beauty nor elegance on purpose. They were there to merely uplift the thick framing around gigantic paintings, peppered all around the building. Right in front of the Congress chamber, a massive painting depicting a Senate meeting from Ancient Rome started back at her. As per the golden plaque beneath it, the title of the piece was 'Cicerone denuncia Catilina', masterfully painted by a Cesare Maccari in the year 1889.

Looking up at that greatness, at all the emotion entailed in a piece that had perhaps seen far better days in order to appear then before her with its ripped edges, burned marks and deteriorated colors, Daphne could only ask herself one thing — Do these people passing the painting now even realize how much older a piece of art is than their very own state?

The doors to her left creaked open and Daphne arranged the way her dress' skirt fell above her knees once again, only to lift her hopeful eyes and be met with Albert's chuckle. With a whiskey glass in hand, less than half filled, he closed the door behind him and mused, "Relax. They're still going over your appeal. It's safe to say you've rendered most of them speechless today, dear sister."

With no intention of actually wasting her breath replying to Albert's teasing, replies that would otherwise only bring him pleasure, Daphne looked away, and back at the painting. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as Albert passed by in front of her and dropped himself with a groan in the armchair to her right, across a small coffee table on which plastic flowers throned.

"What's your game here?" Albert inquired, casting a quick glance up at the painting Daphne stared at so intently, only to find himself puzzled by what could possibly have intrigued her at it. "Trying to impress father by evoking ancient laws? How did you even come across that thing?"

"You'd be surprised how much you can learn from simply picking up a book."

"There she is," Albert chuckled at her retorting, pausing only to take a sip from his glass. "You think just because you read books you are fitted to be part of Congress?"

"Reading only makes me more qualified than you to be here."

"So you think."

"One of us has to."

By hesitating on an immediate answer, Albert allowed the silence to slip in between them for a moment too long for his comeback to really matter anymore. He shifted uncomfortably in his armchair, but after a short lived sigh, he took another sip from his drink and continued, looking over at her rather than bothering with observing the painting any longer, "Politics is more than that. More than just reciting from books. You don't know that, but I do, because unlike you, I was raised on those benches, learnt from the best of the best. People, Daphne. Not letters on a page, but actual people."