The Vipers' Nest - Court of Lies and Deception - Apps open

[Fayreview]

Welcome one and all to the continuation ofThe Vipers' Nest (http://forums.sims2community.com/showthread.php?t=53323) hosted by Shenanigans, which in turn was the second installment of The Baroque Court RP (http://forums.sims2community.com/showthread.php?t=48353) by eternal_sunshine.

http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/dd301/Fayreview/VipersNestTitle.jpg

It is 1677, the Baroque Court in France is the pristine pinnacle of fashion, fortune and power... However recently cracks have begun to appear throughout our little world and the people we once trusted are now, plotting and planing things we can only wonder about... these truely are dark days In the Palace of Light and Air.

The power has shifted throughout the court, the advisor has been murdered, the Princess has passed, the Queen whisked away by a mother with a sharp mind and a strong tongue and with the King's quiet nature, power is up for grabs, after all even with his childhood friend, his wife's voice-in-court and his faithful gossip he still needs an advisor....

Originally Posted by eternal_sunshine
The object of this RP is to make an aristocrat character, and then guide him/her into the position of the King’s Advisor. It won’t be easy, though. Other characters will be after the same thing, and might even try to get you banished from the Court, or have you stripped of all your titles and money, thus making you start all over again.

Secret alliances and backstabbing are part of the game. Not everyone has to want to be the King’s Advisor – you can team up and help people into the role if you want. The real courts of this time period were a teeming, infested viper’s nest of intrigue and debauchery. Have some fun with it!

The RP is set in the Baroque period (1640’s – early 1700’s).

NOTE: The word “courtiers” simply refers to a group of nobles that lives in the King’s Palace. Aristocrat and Noble are interchangeable words: they simply mean a person of great wealth or power.


The Roleplay:
Each roleplay day is split into three; morning, afternoon, and evening. These will be operating on a 5, 5, 4, basis. Which basically means a morning is five real life days, a afternoon is also 5 and an evening is 4. This will maybe tweaked as needed to allow everyone ample time to roleplay their characters. One roleplay day is considered a round.

Rules:
Follow all roleplaying rules of this forum.
All characters must be atleast 16 year of age.
Any titled Courtier can become the King’s Advisor.
All RPs must have a minimum of 8 lines. You are encouraged to build conversations via PM then post them in the thread if need be.
Do your best to stay in the feel of the times. Remember, this is before electricity, running water, and automobiles.

The Rank & Titles:
Duc & Duchess – This is the highest level attainable in court. They have the most money, the best suites, and the most sordid past. Each character of this level starts with 80,000 livres, and a major scandal.
Comte & Comtess – The middle level of power in the court. They’re not the smallest fish in the pond, but they sure don’t rule the roost. Each character of this level starts with 60,000 livres, and either a major or minor scandal, decided by a randomizer.
Baron & Baroness- The lowest level of nobles in court. They are just beginning their journey up the ladder. Each character of this level starts with 40,000 livres and a minor scandal.
Untitled Characters – These characters have no title and are referred to simply as Mr. and Mrs. They may very well think themselves wealthy and important, but they’re nothing compared to the nobles with titles. Each character of this level starts with 20,000 livres and no scandals.

There are two ways to gain a title. You can buy a title, or be given a title from the King. It costs 40,000 to gain the title of Baron/Baroness from an untitled state, 60,000 livres to buy your way up one title from Baron/Baroness to Comte/Comtesse and 80,000 from Comte/Comtesse to Duc/Duchesse.

Scandals:
A scandal can be either a minor scandal or a major scandal. (These are considered levels.)

Minor Scandals: These scandals have to do with flirtations, having relations with a commoner, dueling, and blackmail. If a scandal of this nature reaches the King’s ear, the character will be demoted one rank, and/or given a “morality fine” of 50,000 livres.
Major Scandals: These scandals have to do with infidelity, murder, treason and stealing from the King. If this type of scandal reaches the King’s ear, you may even recieve banishment from court. (Members of the Royal family, Duc d'Lorraine, Baroness Venn, and the advisor are the only ones exempt from this rule.)

When a new character enters the RP they are required to begin with a scandal. These are referred to as given scandals. The level of the given scandal depends on their title and rank. (See section above.) During the RP new scandals are sure to be born. These are referred to as created scandals. All these scandals, both given and created will be put into a scandal database. A created scandal will only stay in the database for one RP week, given scandals stay in there indefinitely. Each round (1 RP day) a randomizer will be ran and a scandal chosen. This scandal will make its way to the ear of Baroness Mercy Venn.

Who is Mercy Venn? She is the court gossip, the court snoop. Each day she will have a scandal told to her. Depending on how the randomiser goes, it may already be old news to her. She will then alert your character that she knows their dirty little secret. It’s up to you to do whatever it takes to earn her silence as each day Mercy Venn has the opportunity to tattle to the King. So if she approaches you, it may be in your best interest to do whatever it takes to appease her. IF you decide to bribe her, you must PM me the amount of money you bribed.

Money:
It’s what makes the world go round. Money, and lots of it. Your character begins with a set amount of money depending on their title. There are two ways to earn more money. If it is suggested to him, the King may gift it to you. The other way is by visiting the Court Accountant (randomiser), in RP formally asking for the money. The request will be denied or approved formally by PM if your request is approved you may recieve, the amount youn ask for or hald the amount, depending , once again, on a randomiser. You can only ask for money four times, and each request is limited to a maximum of 20,000 livres. You must have two rounds between each visit to the accountant. The money is measured in the baroque French currency – livres. Brief details of the accountant are in the listed below under "Untouchables."

Offices:
In this day and age very few Nobles NEED to work, but those who wish too now have the ability to pitch a business to the Court accountant, offer him a some of money and secure yourself an office to run a business, which will pay a small dividend each day, the amount of money will depend on your investment, your business idea, and your character's popularity.

Special Rooms:
Winning the game has changed any courtier can be granted the position, besides the Untouchables (and secondary characters of those RPers), regardless of title as long as they have access to the Rotherham Rooms and the De Mollier Offices.

The Voice-in-Court may now suggest to the King grants of access to the Rotherham Rooms for other Courtiers.

The Old Friend may now suggest to the King grants of access to the De Mollier Offices for other Courtiers.

Rotherham rooms, access is a sign of the Trust of the Royal Family.

De Mollier Offices, access is a sign of Respect from the Royal Family.

Suggestions:
Every round the King will heed a suggestion made by either the Voice-in-Court, or Duc d'Lorraine. (The decision is made with the randomiser.)
Suggestions will consist of:
- Granting titles- they can suggest you go up one title from your own
- Bestowing money – a financial gift of up to 40,000 livres may be given
- Demoting- they can suggest you go down one title
- Fining- a financial reprimand of up to 20,000 livres
- Banishment- if they get mad enough at you, you could be banished from court
- Access- the De Mollier Offices or Rotherham Rooms may be opened to you.

The format:
Each RP Day morning, the King will hold his morning announcements. This is when he will follow through on a suggestion given to him, and deal with any scandals that he has learned about. The afternoon and evening is free time for your character.

Gaining the Prize:
In order to be eligible for the position of Advisor you must gain access to the De Mollier Offices and the Rotherham Rooms. Once you are eligible, you must get the Voice-in-Court or the King's old friend to suggest you be appointed to the King. Once they make the suggestion, the King (a randomiser) will decide if he agrees. If the King does not agree to appoint you, you must wait another three RP days before the suggestion can be given again. The randomiser will be slanted however so A Duc/Duchesse has a much higher chance (50%) of being granted the poisition than an untitled man/woman who will have only a 5% chance when suggested. The other titles will find you a percentage in between these

If the King does appoint you, congratulations, you’re the new advisor. As the advisor you now have the King’s ear and will be able to give suggestions just as the Voice-in-Court and Duc d'Lorraine do. It’s time to pay back all those who helped you get to where you are. However, just because you’ve gotten the position does not mean you’re safe, or the game is over. If the king was to find out about a major scandal of yours, you will be fired and other penalties may be imposed. The position becomes open again for someone else to enjoy their moment of fame. If you become the advisor and are not active for two RP days, (roughly a month real time) a new advisor may be appointed.

Applications:
Though the palace of light and air is indeed grand, there are only fourteen suites available. So if you no longer wish to participate, please have the curtesy to remove your character from the RP to allow others to join. Do not be surprised if your character is banished if you have been inactive for a month’s time.

When you submit an application please include the following:

Name:
Title:
Age:
Bio:
Picture: (Does not have to be sim)

After you submit your application, you must PM me your character’s given scandal. This is the scandal they begin the game with, that will stay in the scandal database. You may not post an RP until after I’ve approved your scandal. Remember, the severiety of the scandal depends on your characters rank.

If there are any question, please feel free to PM me.

[Fayreview]

The Untouchable characters currently in play

The King Edouard Auguste Louis Rotherham IV
Age: 42
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y225/Mila_Muromachi/SIMS2/QueenIsabella/KingEdouard.jpg
King Edouard is a private man who spends most of his time in his Salon, or in his private suite. He leant heavily upon his wife and his friend Duc d'Lorraine for advice after the loss of his beloved Duc of Mollier. With Isabella also temporarily indisposed, the Voice-in-Court had taken her place.
He is an NPC whos actions depend on a randomizer. The only people who have access to him are the Duc d'Lorraine, the Voice-in-Court, the Prince, Juliet de Margoles and, on occassion, Baroness Venn, afterall you never know what she has to say.

Baroness Mercy Venn (Flight)
Age:44
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y225/Mila_Muromachi/SIMS2/QueenIsabella/MercyFlight.jpghttp://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a391/Bluethunderumbles/snapshot_34dc80be_54dc8346.jpg
((The picture is the marvellous Judy Dench and the blonde sim is my version made especially for Mercy... looking rather annoyed with one of our other Courtiers.))
"What can I say? Life is life and other peoples are so much more interesting. I can be sworn to secrecy... if we're friends or if there is something in it for me."
Mercy is very loud and insists it is the public's right to know, this point of view may have come from her deceased husbands constant affairs that she knew nothing of until a relative made it rather clear. She at the moment lacks good friends, which she craves this makes her an excellent target for flattery, or occasional bribery. She is friends with Isabella, and quite likes the way that sounds, arguing with Mercy is not really advised...

Mercy is the court gossip, having access to scandals of all sorts, she has made her self immune from being banished from the court.


Dimitri-Josèphe, Duc d'Lorraine (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174639&postcount=12)
Age: 48
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y225/Mila_Muromachi/SIMS2/QueenIsabella/dimitri.jpg
The King's old friend, Dimitri, is quite opposite of the King in nearly every way imaginable, fortunately this means you can in deed talk to him, and perhaps sway him, you want him to like you really...

Baron Larkin d'Marius (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1175143&postcount=16)
Age:34
An ambassador to a far flung place and the much younger brother of the Duc d'Margoles, hand picked by Juliet (see further down list) to be her Daughter's Voice-in-Court.

Prince Octavien Lahance (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174455&postcount=7)
Age: 21
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y225/Mila_Muromachi/SIMS2/QueenIsabella/OctavienLahance.jpg
Octavien came to this court as an untitled man. Thanks to his luck in happening across the Queen when she was in need he found himself in her favor, eventually moving up the ranks to the title of a Comte. Though he does not have direct access to the king, his marriage to the princess makes him ineligible for the advisor’s position. Now she has passed away however he is looking like a favourable choice.

Duchesse Juliet de Margoles
Age:???
The Mother of Queen Isabella, she comes and leaves as she pleases as of recent. (She looks like an aging Cybil Sheppard.)

Mister Tobias Benedetti
Age: 28
The court's accountant, money lender and general financial guru. Relatively handsome, short black hair and blue eyes.

******

The past Untouchables

Princess Adalita
The King’s only heir, she was a rebellious young lady until her untimely demise.

Queen Isabella Rotherham
Age: 23
King Edouards second wife, she is often called the most powerful woman of the kingdom. It is a title that she enjoys living up to immensely. Whilst still living she is currently residing in the family home with her parents and her older brother (the next Duc de Margoles.)

Queen Susanna Rotherham
Age:32 at death
King Edouards first wife, Adalita's mother and a strong believer that even a gossip has her uses..

Courtiers

Ducs and Duchesses

Christine Du Fontaine (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1179768&postcount=108)

Comte and Comtesses

Marie-Elisabeth Valois (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174448&postcount=5)

Barons and Baronesses

Isabella Devine (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1176191&postcount=28)

Untitled

Miss Padme Castilla (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174562&postcount=11)

Other Titled Characters

Lady Charmaine de Mollier (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174450&postcount=6)
Marquis César de la Vallière (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174486&postcount=9)
Marquise Joséphine de la Vallière (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174787&postcount=14)
Elena Sánchez (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1174788&postcount=15)

[Fayreview]

Here are the new maps, some new features are present on each map which are explained beneath it.





Ground Floor
http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/dd301/Fayreview/Baroquecourtbase.jpg
The east wing is for the higher titled courtiers, Larkin, is also there due to the Influence of his Sister-in-Law





The Upper Floor
http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/dd301/Fayreview/Baroquecourttop.jpg
The De Margoles Suite and Salon used to be the queen's room, they remain in that capacity officially but they are currently being put to use by Juliet de Margoles, the Queen's mother.
The Rotherham Rooms once the Princess's chambers they are now the meeting point for those trusted by the Royal family, access can be granted and taken away.
The De Mollier Offices once, the rooms of the past advisor, access to these rooms, shows you are intelligent and respected.





The Bottom Floor
http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/dd301/Fayreview/Baroquecourtdown.jpg
The servant's rooms, and other facilities including the Palace Accountant's office and four more vacant offices just looking for entrepreneurs.





The Palace Grounds
http://i222.photobucket.com/albums/dd301/Fayreview/Baroquecourtgrounds.jpg
Various places including the Blackmail clearing some of you may be invited to.

[Fayreview]

Asteriks mark things you may know but your characters will not know.

A young boy, is born into a world of power, he proves to be a quiet man and during his young days is already pressured, after all he is to grow up to be king.

The young Edouard befriends an intelligent young man with a great eye for detail and understanding of social politics. The King encounters Duc c'Lorraine.

Within the Palace of light and air a fitting young woman is found for Edouard to court.

Love blossoms *thanks to the aid of Duc d'Lorraine* and The King marries.

The Princess is born, the future Queen of the Kingdom.

The Duc d'Lorraine leaves the court to return to his family estate.

The Duc de Mollier becomes increasingly popular and becomes the King's advisor.

A widow arrives in the court, under the name of Madame Mercy Flight, her past is widely known and her reputation begins to build.

A friendship of sorts is struck up between the first Queen and the court gossip.

The first Queen passes away and the Duchess of Champagne, Juliet de Margoles brings her daughter the court.

The young Isabella de Margoles becomes the second Queen.

Duc d’Mollier is found dead, the court is in chaos and a new advisor must be located.

The Princess begins to show her true colours by spending her time in the company of young men.

A Duc by the name of Silvius attracts the attention of several female courtiers including the Princess.

The Queen forms a friendship with a courtier named Octavien who is giving her harpsichord lessons.

*Both relationships progress.*

The Queen seems to strike up a friendship with the court gossip Mme Flight.

The Princess announces her engagement to Silvius.

*The Princess falls pregnant.*

*Mme Flight Blackmails her way into a title, Silvius out of an engagement and gains the Queen’s favour.*

The Princess engagement is now to Octavien Lahance. *The Queens lover.*

The Princess and Octavien are married.

The Princess falls Ill.

Duc d’Lorraine arrives to comfort his life long friend, the King and nearly runs over Baroness Flight.

Baroness Flight, reverts to her Maiden name, Venn.

The Queen plays the doting step mother.

The Princess dies.

The Queen’s Mother Juliet de Margoles arrives to attend the funeral.

After the funeral the Queen collapses and Juliet demands her return to the family home.

Juliet desires for a relative to come to the palace to represent the Queen. The Voice-in-Court.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Name: Marie-Elisabeth Valois

Title: Comtesse de Valois

Age:20

Bio: Married at 13 and widowed at 17, Marie-Elisabeth widely says she only gained two good things from her arranged marriage. Her massive inheritance from her husband, and their 6 year old son Charles. Named for her late husband, he is being educated and cared for by the best tutors money can buy. As the widow of the Comte de Valois she might not have inherited his estate but, as the mother of his only son (his first wife had 2 daughters), she holds it until he comes of age. Her two stepdaughters are named Sophie (14) and Helene (16).

Being forced into her marriage at such a young age, she believes she never got to experience life. Being saddled with a husband who was literally 4 times her age was something Marie-Elisabeth has always resented. While she admittedly cared for her husband, who doted on her and granted her every whim, she was in no way in love with him. She has come to court to make something of her life and hopefully have some fun while she’s there. What exactly that fun is remains to be seen.

Marie-Elisabeth always has a look about her that suggests she’s plotting something, and has a tendency to be bitter about her marriage and those who think it should define her life. She always keeps her own best interests and those of her young son close to her heart. She has a small locket with a portrait of him in it that she wears at all times, only taking it off when she goes to bed. She also has a particular weakness for beautiful clothes and, with a strong sense of pride, won't tolerate people who don't know their place in the world.

In terms of the "look" I've often said Marie-Elisabeth has on her face, I refer you to this gorgeous picture that has it dead on: Link (http://marksatchwill.deviantart.com/art/The-Courtesan-82838885)

Also, as to the locket she wears, I imagine it being similar to this one link (http://www.jansjewells.com/antique/47596fad0.jpg), with a fancy string of pearls (think Anne Boleyn's B) and a V for Valois instead on an M on the actual locket.

Pictures:



Marie-Elisabeth

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/snapshot_f51243c6_f51bb1b8.jpg

With her son

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/snapshot_f51243c6_9513e905.jpg

(As much as I adore Natalie, I changed them to sim ones since it seemed more appropriate)

[Fayreview]

Name: Charmaine de Mollier
Title: Lady
Age: 32
Bio: Charmaine is a member of the English artistocracy hense the title of Lady, her English name and status are what makes her act just as she does, strong, determined, aloof and quite formidable.
Charmaine is married to a cousin of the last advisor which I fear may serve only to spur on her feelings of superiority. She does not plan to stay at the court long, merely long enough to make her husband regret taking a long hunting holiday in Scotland. After all nobody does anything without having permission first, I mean this is the 1670's, people need to get with the times and realise a woman's job is to co-ordinate her family...
Picture:
http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a391/Bluethunderumbles/snapshot_34dc80be_74dc82fe.jpg
http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a391/Bluethunderumbles/snapshot_34dc80be_94dc8432.jpg
http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a391/Bluethunderumbles/snapshot_34dc80be_54dc8346.jpg

((Charmaine is the Brunette... And no I'm aware it is not period costume, but I play without cc... so it's harder for me :)))

[AtropaMandragora]

Name: Octavien Lahance

Age: 21

Title: Has gone from untitled, to Baron, to Comte, to Prince.

Personality:
Octavien was a young man with a hunger for nothing more than fun and adventure. Unfortunately, this lead to quite a few precarious situations, and after having been seen leaving the bedroom of one too many married women, his parents sent him away from home, to the court, in the hopes of having him discover that there's more to life than just having "fun". And he did. He discovered power, and the perks of having friends in high places. Now he has his mind set on earning a title, one way or another, and although still a carefree thrill-seeker, he can also be a cunning, ambitious trickster. He's watching the aristocrats and learning what he can from them. And the higher the title, the bigger his interest. Thus, he has taken a special interest in the Queen herself.

Picture:
http://www.vintagestars.com/river/Test2/OctavienLahance1.jpg


And one (http://www.vintagestars.com/river/Test2/Octavien2.jpg) and two (http://www.vintagestars.com/river/Test2/Octavien3.jpg) more, just because. :P

[Fayreview]

((Thank you for posting your new applications guys :) Atropa, I feel like I have failed to tell you just how handssoem Octavien is...))

[AtropaMandragora]

Name: César de la Vallière
Title: Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan (visitor)
Age: 23
Bio: Imagine for a moment the untitled Octavien Lahance, not yet a courtier at the Palace of Light and Air, as a cartoon character, with the classical angel on one shoulder, beseeching him to behave and be good, and a tiny devil on the other, constantly tempting him to be naughty and bad.
That tiny devil, would be César de la Vallière; Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan and one of Octavien's best friends since childhood. Good-natured, charismatic, and with eyes rarely lacking a spark of humor and mischief, the two years older César was the ringleader of sorts, of what one could call the late 17th century 'brat pack' - the circle of friends - that Octavien was part of before being sent to the court by his parents, to mature.

César is very much a man of his time, and his social standing. With his father having died a few years ago, he's now the man of the house and the estate, and the head of the family, consisting of his mother, his wife, and two (legitimate) daughters, whom he adores. He spends a great deal of his time on the favorite past times of the young and the wealthy, such as riding, horse racing, fencing, hunting, parties and balls, playing cards, visiting the opera and the theatre, etcetera, and despite being married at the age of seventeen - an arranged marriage, but not one he objected to, or even minded much - he's still a ladies man. However, he's not the kind of man to leave a woman's bed, never to return. The affairs he has are rarely 'one-time' things, and do not limit themselves to nothing but bedroom activities. Over the years, he's had a few select mistresses, to whom he keeps returning, and has only occasionally had brief flings. But even with his wandering eye, and even though his mistresses tend to end up rather well off - recieving gifts of money, dresses, jewelry and perhaps even a small mansion - he would never flirt with another woman or look at her excessively, while in the presence of his wife. Despite his affairs, he does love her - her wits, her passion, her beauty, not to mention the firey temper that he so loves to tease - and he will never spend too many nights in a row away from her bed. He simply believes it's a man's privilege to have a mistress or two. Still, he might have a tendency to neglect her and take her for granted every now and then. They are married after all, and so in a way he's already and always entitled to her, whereas a mistress isn't bound to him by anything but interest alone. Thus, Josephine might not recieve as many and as romantic gestures as her rivals.


Picture:
http://www.crimson-tale.com/VipersNest/Downloads/Cesar-de-la-Valliere-Marquis-de-Mont-de-Marsan1.jpg
(Expect another pic later. I was trying to get him to flash that mischievous smile of his, but I'm not quite happy with it, it makes his face look a bit weird.)

(((ooc: Fayre & slytherin - Why, thank you. :D I'm kind of fond of him myself. But I made him, so I'm partial.)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((No problem :P I was wanting to tweak her application a little bit anyway, and add some new pictures.

*nods in agreement with Fayre* Yes, yes he is. If Marie-Elisabeth wasn;t already...distracted...;) LOL)))

[ElektraNatchios33]

Name: (Miss) Padme Castilla

Title: Untitled

Age: 24

Bio:

Padme grew up a servant, in a household similar to this one. She observed the ways of the cunning, and believed she would be one of them some day. Though she was young, her observant ways can be useful.

Her parents died when she was young from a sickness, but she was taken in time to an Abbey where she was later adopted and put to work (much like Cinderella without the adoption part). When she was 18, Padme "bought" her freedom (she was able to bribe the head of household, a baron, from the money she recieved from her parents inheritance) and quickly moved into a household like the one she grew up in, as a free woman.

A close friend, who knew an influential Baron, eventually (after much nagging and pestering for several years) put in a good word about Padme with another noble, and word eventually got around that she had potential as an advisor.

(This should be enough.... but I can fix it again again)

Picture:

http://scifipedia.scifi.com/images/7/78/Padme.jpg

[Seiza]

Name: Dimitri-Josèphe, duc d'Lorraine
Age: 48
Title: Duc

Personality: The second son and fourth child of the Lords of Lorraine, Dimitri studied with King Edouard and became among the young Prince's closest confidants since. His home province of Lorraine is located at the border with the Germanic states. It thus seemed only natural that, at 15, he participated in the brutal Thirty Years War, returning to the Palace of Light and Air four years later with riches, scars, and a reputation.

Compared to the light King, Dimitri is as a skeleton of steel patched in earth and clay, with a similarly inscrutable disposition. It would be more accurate to label him the product of his family, rather than just his generation. Growing up in the belief of a strong King for a strong kingdom, he dedicated his early years to securing the foundations from which Edouard would rule. His preparations were interrupted by the death of his older brother, after which Dimitri was recalled to his family's estate.

Although he has remained away from the Court for over a decade, it was no loss to this strict man, who scoffed at the frivolities of the younger nobles and their nonexistent sense of duty to the throne. He has a propensity for rules and the abiding of them, but Dimitri can make decisions that throw others for a loop, as long as the ends aligned with his own principles.

Description (close-up profile (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v85/seiza/misc/sims/baroque__olddimitriprofile.jpg)): Grey eyes. Tanned. Dimitri is of above average height and build, but has become skinnier compared to his days in the army. He has several scars on the left side of his face. Light wrinkles line the corners of his eyes and forehead.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v85/seiza/misc/sims/baroque__olddimitri.jpg

Random Pictures :D

Dimitri pays his respects at a grave. (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v85/seiza/misc/sims/baroque__dimitrikneel.jpg)
Jehanne explains her new invention, the "eye ring". Enthusiastically. (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v85/seiza/misc/sims/baroque__jehanneeyering.jpg)



((Third thread around for this RP! Think we broke any records? XD))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Maybe :P And GAH I just realized I had Marie-Elisabeth's mother's last name (and therefore her own maiden name) as Lorraine. I better go change that)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine de la Vallière, Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan

Name: Joséphine de la Vallière

Title: Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan (visitor)

Age: 22

Bio: When Joséphine of Vortigern, aged sixteen, was told she was going to become the Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, her fanciful mind projected the beginning of a fairytale marriage with all it entailed. Having witnessed it happen to her elder sister, Joséphine dreaded being married off to a man many years her senior, or otherwise brutish and violent for as long as she could remember.

César was not like that. Young, handsome, intelligent and endearing, he appeared to be the husband any woman desired, and Joséphine was smitten with him almost from the beginning.

Loosing her innocence came at a terrible price however: settled comfortably in the plush luxury of the Mont-de-Marsan estate, Josephine witnessed, year after year, her husband's infidelity, chipping away at the idealized view of life she had fashioned for herself. At first, she bottled her jealousy, hopeful that César's affairs were only fleeting, temporary, but as time went by, she was forced to accept a rather different reality. Joséphine did it proudly, turning a blind eye whenever her husband did not share her bed at night or was seen whispering in another woman's ear words unknown, despite the ache it caused her, often wondering whether César believed she did not know or, just as she pretended not to, so did he. From the moment of her birth, she had been bred into a lady, and a lady did not become angry. A lady did not question her husband's behaviour.

Joséphine tried, and often succeeded.

Sometimes however, she did not. Unknown to most outsiders, a scorching flame burned beneath the Marquise's calm, quiet exterior. A fiery passion that rebelled against her conditioning, which tempted her mind with beguiling whispers. That hidden fire would surface when it grew too hot to contain, often in surprising ways. Transforming from a girl into a woman and later a mother, Joséphine grew more and more aware of her power over a man's mind, of the effect a stolen glance and a fleeting touch could produce, inwardly horrified at her wantonness whenever such thoughts percolated. And just a little exhilarated.

César, too, baffled her. Despite the attention he lavished on his mistresses, he was not cold towards Joséphine, or their two daughters, Adèle and Angélique. On the contrary, he remained the charming young man she had married, alternating between the attentive husband and loving father and the ladies' man; however she would often get the feeling she was a step below his mistresses as far as his interest was concerned. This stirred Joséphine's fiery core, causing her to undergo endless private debates as she struggled to understand what it was that she lacked that he felt the need to look for in other women. She continued to educate herself despite her mother-in-law's disapproval, driven by a personal desire to enrich her knowledge and awareness of what went on around her, growing ever more skilled at reading others' mannerisms, including César's, who enjoyed challenging her and being challenged, a game of wit and subtle provocation that had as many chances of ending in a night of passion as it did in a cold “good night”.

In society's eyes, Joséphine is the perfect image of a dutiful wife with a pleasant singing voice, the angelic-looking Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan. However, if one lingered in her presence longer, they might discover that underneath that demure façade lurked a keen mind and a woman who was as sweet natured as she was ambitious, capable of unexpected astuteness.

Thanks to her husband's friendship with Prince Octavien Lahance, Joséphine now had the opportunity to be introduced into the court life surrounding the Palace of Light and Air, a world that dazzled and intrigued her at the same time, for it appeared to house a couple of strong, influential women like she aspired to become. To be taken seriously by men and respected for more than just her title is one of Joséphine's ambitions, and she often finds herself regretting having been born a woman.

Picture:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Ghanima/RP%20Contests/Josephine.jpg

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre


Name: Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre

Title: only daughter of Grande Duque de Suárez y Torre, typically addressed as “Excellency”, “Most Illustrious Lady” or simply "Milady"

Age: 26

Bio: There are powerful, influential men among the aristocracy of Europe, and there are men such as Duque (duke) Carlos Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, who throughout his long life has manoeuvred himself into an exalted position, a "Grande of Spain", the very pinnacle of wealth and political and social power, second only to the royal family.

However, while Duque Carlos rules his vast lands, estates and fortunes, Elena rules Duque Carlos. A formidable man indeed, he has one clear weakness: his only daughter whom he loves above all. Ever since her childhood days, Elena has been unusually apt at influencing those around her into doing her will, her father most of all, while managing to keep herself untied to any proof of mischief, either through bribery, blackmail and some even whisper, murder. When the Duque's wife died after a life of fragile health, Elena was seventeen and without siblings. Despite strong suggestions and advice, Duque Carlos refused to re-marry, and those who knew the family came to suspect Elena had a hand in her father's decision, aware of the great influence she maintained over him.

Supremely ambitious and ruthlessly determined to never bow to a master, Elena had always dreaded the day one of her relatives would step in and claim her fortunes, and begin making decisions concerning her fate. This was the reason she has been avoiding marriage for as long as she possibly could, dripping honey into the Duque's ear year after year until he no longer questioned her motives for risking spinsterhood or worse. While she inhabited her father's estate, Elena ruled supreme, and it was not a position she would easily relinquish.

However, as the years progressed and Duque Carlos advanced in old age, it became searingly clear to Elena that her existence would be threatened the moment he passed away, leaving his title and fortune within reach of one of his younger brothers, or some other relation who would try to claim it. It only meant that she needed to secure her position before that came to happen, in the only way available to her: marriage, but not to just anybody. Nothing short of royalty would do, unfortunately the King of Spain was married and his sons much too young; Elena then turned her attention to foreign countries instead, aware she had quite a few years on most unmarried ladies and the clock was ticking. It was fortunate indeed that Duque Carlos had a lifelong ally in King Edouard of France; from his letters she learned that Prince Octavien Lahance was a widower and the matter of marriage had been brought up....

Plots within plots...such is Elena's motto.

Picture:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Ghanima/RP%20Contests/Elena.jpg


((ooc: Here she is at last! By the way, she isn't untitled per se, she's a duke's daughter but if memory serves, women only got a noble title when they married or were somehow the last survivor of their family or they were Princesses (not that it matters here so much, that's going to change soon anyway :P). If there's any confusion about the bio let me know

Also, Fayre - I am not sure part of which morning's announcements her arrival should be, since I plan to wait one day before bringing her in. ))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin d'Marius, Baron de Aurvilies

Title:Baron d'Aurvilies
Age: 34
Bio: Larkin, the queen's paternal uncle, was rather awkward for his parents [the queen's grandparents] to deal with. As a small child he was told, in no uncertain terms by a governess that being the youngest son meant that there was no way he would inherit anything useful and was essentially another mouth. Not that the nobility of France couldn't handle it, she had said, but it had a profund effect on young Larkin. He proceeded to ignore the lessons of fine statecraft imparted to his older brothers, and instead study the more... abstruse sciences. Those of ambition, of greed, of efficeincy.

Upon his twentieth birthday Larkin's father died, and, as expected, gave the eldest brother most of the duchy, and leaving small, infertile, essentially useless baronies and marquedoms to the younger brothers. Larkin, being thoroughly uninterested in any of the day to day administration of his barony, went to court, where after a year he was appointed ambassador to Zimbabwe.

While there he maneuvered brilliantly amongst the natives, bearing technology to them and piles of gold and trade goods away, all for the good of France. He has been there for well over a decade, missing his brother's wedding, said brother's daughter's birth, and said daughter's rise to queen. However in his capacity as ambassador he was able to cultivate a firm freindship with the king. Due to some small insurrections in Zimbabwe, Larkin was exiled from there and has returned to the court, as he still has no interest in his barony, and it is capably run by a steward, who leaves the appropriate revenues to his Baron's disposal.

Larkin d'Marius is rather pleased to return to his native land, self imposed exile does get tedious after more than a decade. He remains ambitious, wanting a better parcel of land for his long suffering steward to administer to, but at the moment is quite content to enjoy real food that is not spiced to death, and real women that go about leaving something for a man to think about during the occasional dull days. As opposed to the ladies of Zimbabwe... who provided things other than thought.

Picture: Forthcoming
((OOC: Hope thats aright, if not, let me know and I'll go right ahead and change it!))

[Fayreview]

((Ok you may now start to roleplay the new morning, the announcements will start again tomorrow.

And I shall have a long post up later involving the Royal's, plus new a new installment for Mercy AND Charmaine's entrance... :insane: :insane: :insane: what a lot of work :insane: :insane: :insane: ))

[AtropaMandragora]

César couldn't quite remember the last time it had happened, but for once, he had actually been relieved to see a beautiful and pleasant young woman depart from his company. And not a moment too soon either. Three, in this case, had most definately been a crowd.
It was nothing against the Comtesse de Valois herself. Not in the least, as César quite regretted not having gotten the chance to talk to her some more. She was as sweet as could be, and since last they had met, he had found himself occasionally wondering if that mischievous streak that seemed to surface every now and then was for real, a sign of a true impish nature, or simply an act, something that young women were taught in order to entice equally young men, without fully realizing the forces of nature they set into motion by doing so. Many girls had had their hearts broken and their innocence stripped away that way.
But the more he thought about it, the more he doubted that this would be the case with Marie-Elisabeth. She had been married already, she had a son, and thus was obviously no stranger to the somewhat more primal side of human nature. And she did play the game between men and women like a true expert. She even seemed like the kind of lady that would offer a challenge even when the initial chase was over.

And there she had been, in the Blue Salon, face to face with a lady he knew would never cease to be a challenge. Joséphine, his wife. The one thing he had always tried to avoid, as far as his extra conjugal activities were concerned, playing out before his very eyes.
Beautiful and pleasant young lady or not, the situation at the time had been far from ideal. It was a good thing they had been interrupted not only once, but twice, by different members of the royal family. First Octavien, and then the King and Queen themselves, who by requesting a moment of silence for their daughter had provided César with a chance to decide how to handle the matter of Joséphine and Marie-Elisabeth.

It was a plan he would end up not needing, however, as once again the Comtesse decided to assist him in resolving the situation. As soon as the King and Queen retired from the Blue Salon, so did she, excusing herself that she had an important letter to read. Truth or not, he didn't know, but he was relieved none the less.
And with her gone, along with the Royal couple, and Octavien still engaged in conversation, there was little reason for the Marquise and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan to stay in the Blue Salon. For while César had gone there to get acquianted with the other courtiers, he no longer held such desires after seeing how most of them had treated Octavien. Not then, at least. If he was to be introduced to anyone, it would be only once the gall presently threatening to spill forth from his tongue, had had a chance to ebb away.

However, had he thought the awkward incident involving Marie-Elisabeth was over, he was sadly mistaken. Once back safely in the privacy of their own suite, Joséphine had brought up the subject of the young Comtesse. Though just barely, as she did it in such an indirect, roundabout way, that it left him unsure of whether she had sensed something, or was merely making conversation. He was very much aware of the fact that those that were looking for something, would often found it, even when it was not there. Joséphine's reasons for bringing up Marie-Elisabeth might have him sensing a trap where there was none. Which was why he felt it was safer to just give some generic, borderline disinterested reply, and then change the subject.

It wasn't until later, in bed and after a little while of trying to silence his mind enough so that he could go to sleep, that it had dawned on him what she had really said to Marie-Elisabeth back there in the Blue Salon; "When César and I have a son"...
It wasn't as much what she had said, as it was the tone of voice in which she had said it. He already knew she wanted a son. As did he. But that "when"... It had sounded rather confident. More so than that of someone who 'merely' wished.
Or was it him that was wishing? Was his currently rebelliously loud mind making him read too much into it? Did he want a son more badly than he himself was aware of? So bad, that all it took was something that may have been just a simple and casual statement, to make him imagine things?
No... It hadn't feel right. He wanted a son, but he was neither living nor breathing that wish.

Still, going over it back and forth in his mind like this had done little good, and there had really only been one way to find out what she had meant.

"Joséphine?" he'd said, turning his head to the side to look at the lovely brunette that had been laying next to him, as though he'd thought she might still be awake.

She hadn't been, and with a slight sigh, he had resigned. But only for a moment. The thought of what she might have meant had refused to leave him alone, and so finally, he had just submitted to it, and simply woken her up, by pressing against her from behind, and nuzzling into the thick chocolate curls in the back of her neck while at the same time pressing his lips against the softness of her skin. She had woken up with a slight smile on her lips, though it had soon turned to slight surprise instead when she had realized it was still in the middle of the night. Not that it had never happened before, that her husband was overcome by certain feelings during the night, but this time, that had not been his reason for rousing her from her sleep. This time, instead of being met with passionate kisses, she had been met with the question "What did you mean?".
Needless to say, she had been confused to say the least, her head still groggy and heavy, and César had had to explain just what he had meant, before she even knew just what on earth he was talking about. Not that it had done him much good, as she had sleepily requested that they'd talk about it in the morning, before promptly drifting off to sleep again, leaving her husband feeling rather impatient and frustrated.
But, he had resigned, and eventually, after a bit of tossing and turning, even fallen asleep himself.

With a night like that, he was bound to sleep late, and the only reason why he awoke when he did, was because the sun decided to find a small crack between the heavy curtains covering the windows, and send a few bright rays to ruin his morning by hitting him square in the face. A frown upon those sunkissed features became the first sign of life from the young Marquis, followed by a few moments of malcontent squinting and a hand raised limply to protect his eyes from the bright light, before he tossed himself onto his other side, turning his back towards the window with a wordless grunt.


(((ooc: Just something to try and get the thread going again. I guess he's only approachable to Joséphine, should Ghanima have no other plans (I don't mind in the least if you do)... Or is someone for some reason would come waltzing in. Or come knocking, at least. :D )))

[Slytherin-Girl]

That morning found Marie-Elisabeth heading towards the Blue Salon, letters and the materials needed to write them clutched in her hands. She had made up her mind to answer the letters she had received nice and early, so she could send a reply off before her sister sent a lynch mob after her.

She had gotten a rather early start that morning, surprising for someone who generally liked to stay in bed until noon hour. But she did have a lot of things on her mind, and she had figured she may as well stop lying around in bed and do something useful.

Marie-Elisabeth had decided to wear the pretty blue dress (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/Marieblue.jpg) Charles had spoken of in his letter, when she had spotted said letter when she got out of bed. She knew she looked good in the gown; it was nearly the exact shade of her eyes and had a little hat to match it. This, of course, was why she had had the portrait of her wearing it done in the first place.

She reached the salon quickly, and settled herself down at a small table to begin writing. The room was completely empty now, and she quite appreciated that. She wanted a place free of distractions to write in. Especially distractions of the tall, handsome, brown haired variety that had occupied her thoughts for the last few days.

Yesterday had been another story; she had initially been quite pleased to have the distraction. She was even looking forward to it, not really wishing to spend the entire evening in the company of boring old courtiers she hardly knew. Neither of which, to her great relief, César was.

Not that she knew him overly well, but what she did know she liked. And she really wouldn’t have minded getting to know him a little bit better but that plan had gone awry the second his wife walked into the room. And Marie-Elisabeth had wisely decided to remove herself from what she was sure could turn into a very awkward and embarrassing situation for everyone involved.

She sighed and shook her head to clear her thoughts, deciding to write to her sister first.



To my most darling and beloved of older sisters,

You wouldn’t believe how glad I was to have a letter from you. I really needed a good laugh yesterday.

I hope you’re feeling all right, I know how sick you tend to get when you’re with child. I think twins would be lovely, though I fear for you if it is indeed a pair of boys. I’m run ragged just having one. How you manage all seven of yours I will never understand.

The court so far hasn’t really been a place for gossip or anything interesting. The poor Princess passed away the day after I got here. She was so very young and it was quite a shock to everyone here. Most of all to her father I would imagine. I don’t want to bring bad luck by thinking about it, but I can only imagine how devastating it must be to loose your only child.

And as to the first thing in your letter, well that would be gossiping and well bred young ladies like me don’t do that. Though I will say that you’re indeed correct with that analogy.

You be sure to give my love to all my nieces and nephews, especially my little namesake. And I had better be the first one you write to after the baby or babies are born or else.

Love you always, your sister

Marie-Elisabeth, Comtesse de Valois


Marie-Elisabeth smiled as she finished and carefully folded the letter up. She then sealed it with some wax and placed it down on the table next to her. She quickly picked up another piece of paper and started on a reply to her son.

(((OOC: Figured I’d end it there. I’ve typed enough letters lately LOL)))

[Fayreview]

The wheels of a carriage were clacking against cobbles, Juliet was already very much awake even at this hour, she pondered if this was the arrival she had been expecting.

Click Clack Click Clack

The Duchess rose and waved a hand to the young Lady who Edouard had sent to take care of her, the girl was young, very young and quite pretty, she smiled inwardly, life could change so rapidly....

Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack

The young girl moved slowly across the room, she was carrying a pair of black lace gloves, for even though the official day of mourning was over, today was a sombre occasion, the Queen was leaving her Palace and the heir to the throne was STILL dead so surely everyone would realise the sombreness of the occasion.

Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack

Juliet put on her gloves, and then wearing her Charcoal dress stepped outside of her room and carried along the corridor.

Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack

Danielle, the young girl sighed, for how could a woman hold such power? she thought was she watched Juliet move swiftly and effortlessly down the corridor, she was head for the front door surely to greet some important, some man of true wisdom, Danielle smiled ran to the window, whoever this was, she was determined to get close to them.

Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack

Upstairs curtains twitched and a small window of light fell across Isabella's pale face, she was surveying the grounds of her Palace, for what would be the last time in such a long time. Edouard moved about in the semi-dark behind her, for some obscure reason he was checking the packing Margaret, Helena and the Baroness had done for her. Was this his way of showing her cared?

Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click ClackClick Clack Click Clack Click Clack

Edouard looked at his wife, she did not look well, he felt rather protective over her, but whilst he could stop her leaving, he knew getting her away from this place would be what is best. He refelcted his family were leaving and made a mental note to speak to Dimitri about his Son-in-Law something had to be done surely....

Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click ClackClick Clack Click Clack Click Clack Click Clack

Mercy knew the carriage was now within the court grounds and moved slightly, so she could view it from one of the long windows outside the Queen's suite, the carriage was grand, a magestic pale blue affair with black detailing, she inhaled sharply.

Click

Juliet reached the front door.

Clack

Danielle carned her neck to see down, and out of the window. To see who was causing such a stir.

Click

Isabella turned from the window.

Clack

Edouard gently kissed his wife, for what he felt would be the last time in an eternity.

Click

The carriage door swung open.

Smack

The door hit the side of the carriage from the force which had opened it.

Suprise fell across Juliet's face.

Danielle focused hard on the figure with delight showing on her face.

Mercy moved away from the window, this was not the person she was expecting...

Isabella jumped slightly at her husbands touch.

Edouard paused, how had the years slipped right by them?

Isabella bit her lip.

Charmaine de Mollier stepped from her Carriage. "Well?" She asked.

The question was simple, impolite and in English... this was not a good sign.

((There you go people! I hope you don't mind a little of suspense building, or two overlapping stories. As you can see I have tried to offer some sign Isabella is up and about without writing too much, as my writing style does not fit her character, and I would have no idea how to descride her thoughts and feelings, or even what they may be, she truely is lost without Shenan...

Oh and the new character is approachable.))

[Ghanima Atreides]

César and Joséphine - their suite

All things considered, it had been an odd week, with a finale to match. Not more than three days had elapsed since their arrival at the Palace of Light and Air, and already Joséphine had discussed and resolved hers and Octavien's past issue, after which she had been unexpectedly taken into his confidence regarding a very personal matter and in the evening, she had come face to face with Comtesse Marie-Elisabeth de Valois, the comely blondine who clearly harboured less than innocent designs concerning César, and vice versa. It was a lot to take in, and the Marquise anticipated a future of deep contemplation of each issue, as she stripped it of its layers one by one in her mind until only the kernel remained bare: the core of it. Joséphine did so often during her hours of solitude when her mind soared freely – it was one of her distinctive traits, her “gravely ponderous” intellect as César liked to refer to it, not without an accompanying smirk that suggested the touch of curious amusement he had regarding his wife's famous tendency to over-analyse.

It was that very trait which held Joséphine's delicate brow in a slight furrow that morning, lowered over two focused jade eyes which traced César's sleeping features from the window's ledge where she sat, hugging her knees to her chest. Beyond the crimson and gold velvet curtains, the sun's bright disc traced the blue morning sky on its way to the apex, bathing the palace in dazzling light. A single fascicle penetrated the dimness of the Mont-de-Marsan suite however, landing pointedly on the carpet at the foot of the bed.

Watching her husband's peaceful sleep, Joséphine replayed the previous evening's events in her mind: her conversation with the Comtesse, the pair's growing discomfort, culminating with a hasty departure. She found it interesting indeed how, among the three, she had been most calm about it, and most willing to continue the game of subtleties between them, to watch as the Comtesse's words and actions revealed part of the answers she sought. What was it they feared? Did they believe she might cause a scene, and embarrass them? Perhaps the Comtesse did, after all she did not know her, but she couldn't imagine César shared that belief – although, if truth be said, even he had not been prepared for a meeting between his wife and one of his paramours. The evasive manner in which he had replied to her questions regarding the Comtesse spoke for itself.

Then, there was the matter of César's curious behaviour later that night. Positively exhaused, Joséphine had drifted to sleep almost immediately; she even retained the fuzzy recollection of a dream, something involving a forest and a cabin, but the picture was severed when she became aware of a very real arm coiling around her waist, and César's lips touching the base of her neck. The Marquise remembered leaving the forest of her dream, a familiar, pleasant tingle growing inside her stomach when she opened her eyes, followed by a wave of warmth which sent her heart racing. Less fortunate wives submitted to their husbands out of duty, but unless she was feeling unwell or was crossed with him, Joséphine welcomed his attentions, often seeking them herself, though she was soon to discover her husband's intentions were of a different nature that time.

"What did you mean?" he had asked cryptically, the Marquise's excitement subsiding under the weight of sleepy confusion: what did she mean...about what? When César failed to elaborate, a smidgen of irritation welled up inside her: if he had nothing else to add, then surely the matter wasn't that pressing could wait until morning, which she promptly communicated to her husband before turning on her side and closing her eyes. Joséphine remained like that for a while, pretending she was asleep, until she heard César's breathing grow soft and regular. Then, and only then was she able to relax and surrender herself to exhaustion.

Nonetheless, Joséphine awoke first that morning, suppressing a moan as a pronounced ache made itself painfully obvious throughout her limbs: she was more out of shape than she had realized, and the past day's ride in the forest had been taxing. Not surprisingly, César was still deeply asleep. Climbing out of the bed, Joséphine poured some water into a shallow porcelain basin and washed her face and neck, before wrapping a dainty lace robe around herself and positioning herself on the windowsill, where she had been sitting for the past three quarters of an hour. Last night's irritation had left her mind, but the question hadn't. “What did you mean...” considering the plethora of things César could have meant with that question, she wouldn't know until she asked him.

Reaching two of her fingers in the gap between the curtains, Joséphine widened it gradually, guiding the light away from the carpet and towards César's upturned face on the bed. She saw him groan and move a hand to shield his eyes from it, before turning on his side. That man could be petulant as a child! However, the hour was late, and Joséphine had pondered all there was to ponder about his mysterious question. As such, she left her vantage point and snuck back into the bed, drawing herself up against her husband much like he had done. Tracing his jawline with one finger, Joséphine let out a soft laugh when she saw him quiver slightly – César was ticklish when taken by surprise.

“Good morning, mon cher” she whispered right into his ear. “Mind you, good afternoon will seem more appropriate soon.”

Knowing he could not avoid waking up much longer, César tried nonetheless, but Joséphine lowered her cheek into the softness of his hair and placed a kiss on the lobe of his year, biting down on her lip; she might as well go ahead and say it:

“César, last night....what was it that you wished to know?”

[Seiza]

Edouard, in all his thoughtfulness, had prepared for the Duc the suite deepest in the right wing—with its tall windows opening to the neatly-tended garden expanse, the peaceful stables and gentle forests stretching beyond. The sunlight, whether freshly morning or tender evening, would always skirt across the gleaming glass, allowing just enough light and heat to illuminate the mahogany suite without straining one’s senses. The room was furthest away from the hustle and bustle of the main hall, where the palace doors seemed to open innumerably to welcome new visitors, and the rustle of servants’ skirts and shoes coalesced into the most mind-numbing symphony of early morning and pre-dinner household chores.

It was very kind of the King to consider his old friend’s tendency for solitude when choosing his suite; Dimitri was, simply, very lucky he always had an extra pair of eyes to watch the hustle and bustle when he could not.

He had been in the middle of penning a letter—or, rather, staring at the waxy, watery remnants of a dying candle while mulling for the past hour or so over what he should (and could and was safe to) express in writing—when those extra eyes came knocking at his door.

Dimitri recognised the rhythm so immediately that he did not think twice about allowing entry.

Rukov bounded in, the devil’s gleam in his dark eyes and lips. “Thy worthless subject bringeth thee fine news for thy lordship ‘tis ominous morning.”

Dimitri looked at the sky through his tall windows. The heavens were perfectly clear. “The Queen’s uncle has arrived?”

“Wha… Oh. No, my lord.”

The Duc merely smiled at the sight of his aid’s stocky shoulders slumping dramatically. There was obvious amusement, but also a strain of exasperated resignment. He had been struggling since sunrise—even before that, hence the death of his candle—to pen to paper a concise, safely worded yet fully informative account of everything that had happened thus far. And, thus far, he had only gotten as far as preliminary greetings. He was already at such a loss for words, what was one more bit of news to add to his unwritten letter?

“What is it then?” He paused, considering Rukov’s excitement. “It must be a woman.”

“Aye!” The gleam was back. “Better than that—an Englishwoman. Or, at least, that was the first godforsaken word outta her mouth! All the palace is in a uproar if I do say so myself, and I do. Luckily the footman’s got a good enough grasp on the language, but my God, you should’ve seen their faces, my lord!”

Dimitri frowned, but his reply was merely thoughtful. “I see… And I take it you wish to drag me there now to see her?”

“If only!” Rukov sighed, before bowing and presenting his lord with an elegant note. “But His Majesty wishes to meet with the Duc before the morning announcements, and if I do say so, it seems quite urgent. Didn’t even use the steward, His Majesty’s guard just pushed it right into my hands.”

There was nothing unusual with Edouard wanting to see Dimitri in the mornings, although there had been a remarkable lack of productiveness in their morning talks since he arrived. The first time or so witnessed the King putting up a valiant show, inquiring as to progress of finding his next Advisor, duly listening as Dimitri duly reported his observations… but it hadn’t taken long for Edouard to simply skip over that part and delve straight to the nonsensical topics only friends talked about. Not for the first time, Dimitri wondered how the man was going to weather being without his wife and his daughter.

Then again, they had been talking most mornings even when Isabella was here. Perhaps, the Duc sighed, nothing was unusual at all.

There was that glint in Rukov’s eye—he was a man whose life had tempered and broken and re-sharpened his deepest instincts, and he must have picked up on that sliver of agitation which slipped from the King’s hand to the guard’s to the note.

Dimitri recognised the glint so naturally that he did not think twice to question it. “I shall meet His Majesty, then. You may show me your Englishwoman after today’s announcements.”

_____

((lol, Fay, I had the Jaws theme playing through my head while reading your post! :lol: So just to clarify, Charmaine de Mollier is an Englishwoman who married the cousin of the Duc d'Mollier?

BTW, I just saw-- you didn't post the map of the servants' quarters :)

Dimitri will just disappear for a bit into the King's salon until after the morning announcements. After which... Octavien, be prepared~ :anime:

[EDIT] Holy Shiznit, Ghanima, sim!Elena looks WICKED AWESOME. Josephine is so pretty too-- I especially love the little family portrait you have behind her! Who be the girl seated beside Cesar (if that is Cesar)?))

[Fayreview]

((Yes that is correct, and I know I tried to post it but it complained of a broken image link... But i have started on the new maps so that shall soon be remedied.))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: He won't be, but I will. ;) Oh, and, I thought the morning announcements would start the next RP day... though when I think about it "tomorrow", as Fayre put it, can mean either real time or RP time. :) Fayre, will you clarify, please? :D

Ghanima - Ha ha, I love what you did the sunlight/drapes thing, and how you just added such a feel to the whole scene! Brilliant!


*edit* Oh, almost forgot; the site's been updated! :D )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Thanks Atropa, I imagined Jo would do something sneaky like that to her cher hubby ;)

Seiza - *grins* thank yeh! She looks quite dastardly, but it fits. And yes that is César, the girl in blue is Adèle and the younger one in Jo's arms is Angélique. I made one a child and the other a toddler to emphasize that one is younger than the other but translated in the sims they look a few good years apart. Ah well.))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: I did the same toddler/child thing when I made my own version of the family (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/valllliete.jpg) earlier this week :P Too bad I didn't know you were planning on making a Josephine or I would have waited GhanimaAnd the family portrait is SO cute!! Was it an Easel painting or a custom object?

And PLEASE tell me I'm not alone in having a B*tch of a time finding houses that work for this era. It took me ages just to find them for the 2 families i have

Also *snicker* This should be fun knowing how......fond Marie-Elisabeth is of the English LOL)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Aww that pic's darn cute, and your Jo looks quite close to the look I gave her too. Cue proud dad/hubby César lol! The portrait is an easel painting, though I might turn it into a buyable one. As for houses, well, I built mine. Not only they're hard to find, but they're usually too big for me.))

[Alissa888]

Name: Isabella Devine
Title: Baroness
Age: 19
Bio: Her father's masterpiece, Isabella is the only legitimate daughter of the formidable Baron Ashton Devine. While the Devine bloodline is among the most powerful and 'pure' in all of Europe, Ashton cares little for social divides and consequently, Isabella cares little for anything but her own advancement in society.
Once minor royalty in Europe, Ashton's recent ancestors saw their titles stripped down due to extensive scandals. However, the family has recovered remarkably since, drawing upon the strengths of age old bloodties, the strongest of these being to the Italian House of Savoy. While Ashton has his minor indiscretions, he is armed which frightening business acumen, which his daughter uses for purposes extending beyond business. Beautiful and charming, she is chameleon like at times, but smooth enough not to get caught.
Her father's long business trips saw the young Isabella sent to the acclaimed Abbey Huntingdon to be educated before her entrance into society. However, Isabella took this opportunity to extend her education beyond simple poetry and novels and was soon packaged off as one of Queen Catherine's many ladies in waiting due to her rebellion and anarchy at the abbey. Returning to her native homeland after her absence, she is determined to make her place in the court.
Picture:
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y84/Alissa888/Isabelle2.jpg
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y84/Alissa888/Isabelle.jpg

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: One tiny thing Alissa, the year is 1677, and Elizabeth I died in 1603. At the time, the King of England would have been Charles II :) )))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: One tiny thing Alissa, the year is 1677, and Elizabeth I died in 1603. At the time, the King of England would have been Charles II :) )))

((OOC: Gah, my knowledge of history sucks beyond belief. Really. Okey-dokey, I'll change it to her being a lady in waiting to Catherine. Thanks for letting me know!)

[FurryPanda]

Larkin's gloriously sumptuous carraige had finally borne him to the palace. Disinclined to get up from the extremely comfortable cushions he lazed for the extra moment until the drivver respectfully poked his head in to say they had arrived. Lazily Larkin got to his feet and stepped out. He directed the driver to find someone to take care of his luggage and then walked up the lawn to the palace. It seemed smaller than the last time he'd been there, but he did not mind terribly, the palace was plenty huge, and very, very opulent.

Another carraigie was sitting right on the central path by the door, and Larkin was somewhat amused. Provincial bumpkin he, it had never occured to him to drive all the way up. The door was opened by a somewhat flustered looking footman and Larkin entered into the most opulent room he'd seen in ages.

The country he had traveled to had been beautiful in its way, but not rich. Far from rich. Here... painted walls and ceiling, marble everywhere, carvings thereon. He gave an admiring swear under his breath, it was glorious.

The next thing he noticed was there were lots of people in the room, all looking a bit panicked. One of them was a tall woman with regal bearing that looked vaguely like Larkin's older brother, that would be Isabella then,and the woman next to ehr, also with noble bearing, was probably Juliet, said brother's wife. Not being completely sure, and not having all that much interest in his sister in law or neice, especially since they both looked in a state of startlement, Larkin kept looking around.

He quickly saw the source of the unrest in the room, the only other person who looked a bit unperturbed, the woman who appeared to have just gotten out of the other carraige, if her ever-so slightly rumpled outfit was anything to go by. He walked over and asked, "Whole place seems a bit perturbed, any idea why, madamesoille?"

He waited for her to answer and thought vaguely to himself, "So much for subtle."

((OOC: Hope thats aright, and he's talking to charmaine))

[Seiza]

((So no morning announcements for this RP day? Okay, I'll probably be able to drop a post in by tonight. Sigh, start of exam week. >_<

FP! Larkin sounds fantastic, loved his bio too. Zimbabwe, my god. I didn't even know France knew of Zimbabwe back then! :lol:

Alissa, Isabella looks great. One Isabella leaves and another comes~

slytherin, same here-- I just made my own house using whatever "baroque"-ish furniture I could find, since most of the mansions were way too big for my laptop to handle. Your version of Cesar and his family is cute! That smile (and Jo's lack of it) makes me think "oblivious when it comes to the wife" :lol: ))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Thanks Seiza! I had to do a project in world history on Africa's interaction with Europe. By that time the spice trade had been very profitable and whats-his-name (Diaz?) had rounded Africa. So Portugese colonization efforts led France, Spain and England, among others to make huge inroads on both sides of the continent. Where Zimbabwe (that being where the tribe called the Zimbabwens (sp?) lived) was then is where present day Angola and Nambia are. So decent gold resources, excellent crops, and some spices, as well as easy access. Nice place to be ambassador.

And I'm rather partial to Larkin myself
EDIT: And wow do i sound like a dull textbook))

[Fayreview]

"By the looks of it I would say it is my fault sir." Charmaine gave a small smile to the man who had just descended from his own carriage. she stop and then repeated herself, this time in French with an English accent. "By the appearance of it I would admit, it is my fault dear gentleman." Charmaine finished that sentence and shook her head, she really either needed French lessons or an interpreter.

She held her hand out to the man "Charmaine de Mollier, Lady Charmaine de Mollier." Whether he spoke English or not he, would obviously recognise a name and and title. After all France was not THAT far from civilisation. She was unsure as to where to go from here, but she did not have to wonder any longer as a Pair of women descended down the stairs, followed at a slowetr pace by a man. From the way they carried themselves, these were the Royal's. Charmaine gave a gentle bow of her head, but, they aknowledged her for the briefest of moments before surrounding the new gentleman.



"Larkin my dear, you are looking well." Juliet gave a bright smile, as long as he did not let slip that they were not as close as she intended to imply everything would be fine. He recieved a kiss on the cheek from his siter-in-law and niece and a rather distant handshake from the King before they began to move him up the steps, with Juliet talking at great length, as they moved Chamine remained stood outside the carriage looking rather lost.

One of the door men had made a quick mental note of these details, and had found it higly amusing, good luck my friend he thought as he disappeared into the castle in search of a certain Baroness who would desire this news...

((Hope that welcome is ok FurryPanda, Charmaine clearly expects you to treat her like Royalty and kiss her hand... silly woman... Oh and sorry for the Royal mobbing but Juliet is trying to take control. I say trying, yopu don't have to let her, I mean aftr today she will be disappaearing fopr a while back home.

Oh and a quick note, I am writing Charmaine to sound like a character from "'Allo 'Allo" If any character has the strength to act as a translator or tutor feel free to offer.))

[AtropaMandragora]

Disgruntled at having been forced out of blissful sleep, and trying his darndest to undo the damage done by the blasted sun, there were few things César could think of, that he hated more than mornings. Or at the very least the things that went hand in hand with them, such as waking up from peaceful slumber, and be expected to leave the warm and soothing comfort of a place where he was perfectly happy, and would have remained perfectly happy for a few hours yet, if only given the chance. Having spent hours of the night pondering and analyzing one simple sentence that had come out of his wife's mouth, in a way rather similar to how she herself used to contemplate most anything, he still did not feel fully rested, and thus was simply not in the mood for mornings. Not that the chances were very big that he would have been even if he had gotten all the hours of sleep he desired. It was plain and simple fact that no matter how one saw it, César de la Valliére just was not a morning person. Not even the fact that the spot next to him in bed was cold and empty, the absence of Joséphine's slender form signalling to him that it was late indeed, made him admit that it might really be time to climb out of bed and get ready for a new day, before the majority of it was over. Instead, he hugged the pillow even more tightly in his arms, and once again surrendered to the loving embrace of the bed.

Just as he was about to cross that delicate border seperating reality from dream, a slight movement of the mattress intruded on his senses, and was soon follwed by a somewhat chilled but undoubtedly female and thus most welcome body pressing against him from behind.
Joséphine.
Even with his eyes closed, and his mind foggy with misty whisps of sleep, he could still tell it was her. And not just because she was the only one he could've really expected, considering this bedroom was her domain. He knew her touch, the gentle brush of her fingertips against his skin, and he knew the sweetness of her scent. He even recognized her presence, as though it itself communicated with his very senses. Among a thousand women, he would still have known her from the rest.

Still, her touch as her finger traced his jawline came as a bit of a surprise to him. He had been somewhere far off in the twilight zone between sleep and wakeful awareness, and the realness of her caress pried away the loving, beckoning arms of slumber from his mind, and began pulling him away from them. Far more gentle than that obnoxious ray of sunlight a moment ago, but also far more difficult to fight, simply because Joséphine would not be as easily ignored.
Not that it made César any more willing to comply. A stubborn man he was, and thus determined to try. Destined to fail or not.

"Good morning, mon cher".

The warmth of Joséphine's breath brushed against his ear, causing his shoulder to rise slightly as a reflex of trying to escape the tickling sensation.

"Mind you", she added, "good afternoon will seem more appropriate soon."

Those words had as much effect on César as they would have on a brick wall. He didn't budge, and he absolutely refused to acknowledge his reluctantly wakeful state. However, one of the reasons why he had become infatuated with Joséphine in the first place, was because she too could have an iron will, and at the same time, wield it with kid gloves. Her sharpest weapon in the battle of the wills was her masterful ability to appeal to his senses and have him surrender to her, rather than defeat him with sheer force. And when it came to her female charms, more often than not, César was a willing pushover.
This time was no exception, and so when she nuzzled into his hair and pressed her soft lips against his ear lobe, his eyes slowly opened, finally, and the look in them was that of a semi-amused glare.

"César, last night... what was it that you wished to know?”

That, in turn, was a question that made his expression change into slight confusion, as it forced his not yet ready mind to try and recall what she was referring to. Though only for a moment, and soon the glare returned to his eyes, only this time not quite as amused.
So, now she wanted to talk, did she? When she was bright and perky, and he wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep?
Or was that her point? To get back at him for waking her up in the middle of the night, by doing the same to him. It would be just like a woman to do something like that.
Well, alright then, fine. Two could play that game.

"Ah", he said dismissively. "It was nothing. Like you said, it wasn't important."

With that, he took her hand and brought it to his lips for a swift kiss, before he gently pushed her back a little bit, just enough to allow him the room needed to sit up, and begin scooting over to the edge of the bed in order to stand.


(((ooc: 'Petulant as a child' indeed. *lol* Oh, and another Isabella. *s* Now, that's bound to cause some confusion. :lol: )))

[Seiza]

((Got some extra time, so here be a post!

@FP: Bartholomew Diaz :D (Gah, why do I know that?! D8) lol, at least your project came in handy for this RP! Zimbabwe! Dimitri would be seething with jealousy if he ever talked to Larkin.

ajfl;dfla; I just realised-- omg, if Shenan was here, this would've been a PERFECT chance to catch Octavien and Isabella together. Unsuccessfully, I figure. But, oh! The frantic scrambling and hiding in closets that could ensue! (Yeah yeah, I figure Isabella would've had some qualms and stayed with Edouard on the night of his daughter's funeral... but I can dream!)))
______


When Dimitri exited the King’s Salon, he realised their talk this time had only taken a few urgent minutes. There had been much shuffling on the King’s part, and much staring on Dimitri’s; who knew all that could go by so quickly? Edouard had, by virtue of having an important guest and family member to greet at the most opportune time, unceremoniously left the Duc with the task of delivering the result of this morning’s talk to its intended recipient. Just before the steward opened the doors, the King gave his old friend something between a sheepish and grateful glance.

This would certainly be… awkward.

He hadn’t made any appointments with the Prince, but surely the King was expecting him to speak to Octavien as soon as possible. Who knew when their next guest would arrive, and how long the widower had to prepare himself?

Although, Dimitri noted dryly, he won’t be widower for much longer.

Approaching the Prince’s suite, he requested an immediate audience with His Royal Highness if he was not otherwise occupied. The guard, visibly surprised, looked uncertainly at the Duc just standing before him. “R… Right now, Duc?”

“If possible, yes,” Dimitri confirmed, finding no problem with standing in the empty royal hallway as long as he needed to so very early in the morning. He added, pleasantly, “I will wait as long as necessary.”

“Wait here…?”

“Yes.”

The guard knocked on the gleaming doors, and an old grey head appeared. Dimitri thought he recognised it as the Prince’s loyal manservant. There was some frantic whispering, and the head ducked back into the royal suite. Dimitri adjusted his cravat, the very picture of patience, while his mind frantically put together some coherently comforting speech for the young Prince.

[AtropaMandragora]

Unbeknownst to the both of them, Octavien had started his day in a manner very similar to Joséphine's. Though perhaps it would the other way around, since Octavien had risen with the sun, and even though he had taken the time to dress first, he had still retreated to the windowsill of one of the large windows in his suite long before there was even a sign of life in the de la Valliére one. He had been sitting there for hours now, sometimes reading, sometimes stopping to watch the enourmous court yard, where carriages had kept pulling up and taking off for almost as long now. New people of various social standing were arriving, and those that that had come for the funeral were leaving. There was one carriage in particular that he had been keeping an eye on, a thorn of melancholy jabbing at his heart every time he beheld it's lavish extravagance. It was one of the royal carriages, and lined up after it were quite a few smaller ones; the cortege that was to bring Isabella from the Palace, to her parent's estate. Wherever that was. Octavien hadn't found a suitable opportunity to ask anyone, perhaps because since learning she would be leaving, he had been reluctant to talk to anyone unaware of the effect her absence would really have on him. There were many watchful eyes in court right now, and alot it them, it seemed, were looking his way. For a variety of reasons.

A deep sigh - one of many this morning - caused the young Prince's chest and shoulders to heave, as he turned his attention back to the book in his hands, 'Metamorphoses' by Lucius Apuleius, and made yet another attempt to focus on the rather amusing and witty story it told. There was nothing more to see in the court yeard at the moment. Things around the cortege had been still for a little while now. Everything, and everyone was ready, awaiting the moment when Isabella and her mother would step out onto the grand marble steps, and it would be time.

It took him a few tries, but eventually, Octavien had finally found the last part he remembered reading, and had just gotten back into the story when there was a knock on the door. With his usual quiet steps, Gilles swiftly made his way over to the door and opened it, upon which a short exchange of whispers ensued with whoever it was outside. Then the door closed again, and Gilles turned to Octavien, who had been watching the small intermezzo from his makeshift seat.

"You Highness", Gilles said. "Duc d'Lorraine is requesting an audience, promptly. He is waiting outside."

At that announcement, one of Octavien's blonde brows drifted upward in a look of slight surprise, but was shortly disspelled by a mental shrug. It was a somewhat unconventional method to seek an audience, but as the King's confidant, he did have the privilege of enjoying a bit more respect than the others of equal rank around here. And Octavien could think of at least one good reason why he would come seeking the Prince. The display in the Blue Salon the previous night. Octavien was well aware that he had made a somewhat flawed impression, and so figured that the Duc had probably come to correct him for not behaving in a way that he had not even been taught in the first place. Isabella and he had never gotten around to such things, and apparently - and here his thoughts along with the look on his face turned slightly more acidic - far be it from the King to take an interest in his son-in-law.

"By all means", he said and snapped book shut, before rising from the windowsill.

While Gilles ducked back out to forward the Prince's agreement, Octavien himself strode over to the small table and group of armchairs that in the short time he had been Prince had seen their fair share of memorable meetings; the very first meeting between him and Duc d'Lorraine, the setup conversation with Marquess Berini, now deceased, and that fateful encounter with Baroness Flight, who, since that very meeting, he had on occasion found himself wishing to be deceased. Now it only remained to be seen if this would be another such memorable conversation as well.

"Duc d'Lorraine", he greeted the older man once he had passed through the double doors, opened by Gilles, and he made no attempt to hide the guarded stance visible in his eyes.

Further courtesies and/or pleasantries would have to wait, as when seeing the look in the Duc's own eyes, he got the distinct impression that yes, this would indeed be one memorable conversation, and most likely not because it was enjoyable.


(((ooc: Alright. Claws are sharpened, fangs ready to be bared. He's ready. Bring it on. :lol:)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

César and Joséphine - bickering in their suite ;-)


There were certain things that César de la Vallière could be notoriously stubborn about, abandoning the comfortable warmth of his bed being one of them. More than once, Joséphine had felt as though she was trying to pry one of their young daughters from beneath the covers to begin a new day, not her husband; César only did so willingly if he had some appealing morning activity planned out, or something that demanded his attention through duty. And, every so often, when his wife enticed his mind and body awake in much sweeter ways.

Not that particular morning however. Having finally submitted to the unavoidable and fluttered his eyes open, César's stubborn dislike for mornings, even late, leisurely mornings lingered, making itself immediately obvious when Joséphine's question demanded a level of his attention he was not quite awake enough for yet.

"Ah", the Marquis interjected and added equivocally as he disentangled himself from his wife's embrace "It was nothing. Like you said, it wasn't important."

Propped on one arm, Joséphine observed his movements in silence, her lips pursed together in a thoughtful pout. She knew her husband, and his predilection for tiny fits of pique when he was already feeling disgruntled, or when something had not gone entirely according to his wishes. More than once small arguments had broken out between them in similar situations, though rarely amounting to anything more serious than a battle of wits and patience until either of them gave in and admitted defeat. It was one of the challenging things about their relationship, the balance of power shifting constantly – Joséphine knew that in hindsight they both enjoyed the game, just as she knew that César's reasonable side could be overpowered by his stubbornness; not that she couldn't ...gently try to shift the course of events in her favour.

Before her husband could get to his feet, Joséphine reached out and interlocked her naked arms around his waist, bringing herself in a sitting position on her knees and nestling her chin in the soft curve of his neck and shoulder.

“Mhmm,” she began on a soft and velvety tone that suggested the challenge was accepted, “I know you, César de la Vallière; there are few things that would keep you awake at night, and something of no importance isn't one of them.”

Joséphine levelled her head with his and peered at César's profile, her gaze trailing the familiar lines and curves of his brow, nose, lips and chin. Although she wouldn't readily admit it, her own curiosity was stirred; she then wanted to know what bothered her husband enough to banish the lures of his beloved sleep. She wasn't exactly worried, confident that César wouldn't toy with a truly serious matter, but she too disliked to be denied. And he knew it, of course.

“Besides, mon amour, you do not play fair” she teased. “How could I possibly discern the importance of a matter from your mysterious question alone?”


((ooc: Pfft, that César :lol: he's not giving in easily I see.

*also grabs some popcorn and prepares self for the Octavien/Dimitri meeting* muwahaha))

[Seiza]

In the short span of time it had taken for the manservant to return to the door, Dimitri had shifted through multiple ways of explaining firmly yet compassionately to the Prince what had been planned on his behalf. He was no stranger to the intricacies of diplomatic exchanges, even if he himself was fonder of retiring in the privacy of two men and cognac; and, surely, he would have found some way to deliver his message while making it seem the best possible thing to happen to Octavien since buttered bread.

Then Dimitri remembered he had never been a particularly compassionate figure; that such a diplomatic side was five… oh, six years’ too old; and the doors opened.

Octavien was standing by that familiar cluster of expensive seating and delicate chinaware, but while he had been generally welcoming and slightly cautious during their first meeting—this time, he was merely cautious.

Dimitri hadn’t tried very hard to mask his expression after passing the guards. It seemed it would be easier to approach the topic if Octavien knew, from the beginning, that he was not here for a casual breakfast. Even so, the Duc could not help but note the unhidden, unrevealing curtain now lying over the younger man’s dark eyes. They were sheer enough to reveal he had not just woken up, but offered nothing more. In many ways, it was nothing extraordinarily different from the other times the Prince had appeared with that unruffled exterior. Yet something… Perhaps the lack of an invitation to sit, or the almost tangible anticipation hanging in the air between them…

Octavien was as wary as a highly strung cat. Dimitri had been but a boy when he last encountered such a miniature beast, and he never forgot the bleeding fingers made by such claws.

“Your Highness.” He bowed in return, gesturing to an empty seat silently, steadily, as if assuring a wounded animal of his peaceable intentions. He was not particularly emphatic, but he had hunted enough times to know how to carry himself around such creatures. The Prince nodded—Dimitri did not catch any other emotion, for he was looking only for panic—and they sat. Since he felt he lacked the delicate diplomacy needed for this encounter, stored with many other things in the treasure chest of the past, he dived straight in.

“As I am aware of the unseemliness of directly requesting this meeting, so I anticipate that Your Highness senses its urgency and… importance that you hear of it now.”

It might have been a suitable time for a pause, to let the weight of his words settle in. But for a man like Dimitri, it was the worst—it showed hesitation, discomfort; and he little doubted the Prince would pick up on it, wary as his eyes now were. Nonetheless, they needed to move past the giving of the news, to the dealing of it.

“I met with the King this morning. Throughout this ordeal with Her Highness’ illness, His Majesty has been communicating with important personages beyond our borders. You would have seen some of them here, yesterday night.” Dimitri put no extra emphasis on the Blue Salon, distracted as he was by more important matters. But there was a shift in grey shade over his eyes, indicating the memory had returned to him.

“His Majesty wishes me to inform you that he has invited Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, daughter of the illustrious Grande of Spain, Duque Carlos Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, to... join you at the Palace.”

He could remember the name, so burningly had he stared at the letter in Edouard’s hand. It had not been the whole letter, just enough to satisfy the Duc that the signature was authentic—but those few minutes had been all he needed.

But—the Prince’s cautious gaze notwithstanding—there was very little chance that his own displeasure would shine through in this instance. Every chain attaching him to his composure had been clasped, every barricade raised to portray nothing more than the steady deliverance of news he, clearly, must surely agree with. For it was delivered from the King’s own hand, and far be it for a lord of Lorraine to openly rebuke his monarch.

Dimitri reached for a glass, wondering if the Prince had caught on.


((*puts up hurricane buffers*

So while Cesar gets felt up by a gorgeous young chica, Octavien gets another morning of bad news from an unsympathetic Duc. Just another day at the palace! :lol: ))

[AtropaMandragora]

By gently freeing himself from Joséphine's nestling form, César had intended to gain the upper hand of the conversation that was starting to develop. Withdrawing from her as well as standing from the bed would have provided him with just that, as it put him in the power seat, and made it so that it would be he who had created the new set of terms of how it would all play out.
Unfortunately, for him at least, he never got that far, as just when he prepared to push himself up from the bed, a pair of slender arms latched themselves around his waist, and put an end to the motion before it even began. Though not by force, not by gripping him tightly to fight any attempt he might make to break free, but with such gentle, beckoning persuasion that it bound him even more firmly than any iron shackles ever could. And before he even had a chance to regroup his own forces and fend off the effect of her advances, tender arms were joined by her chin coming to rest in the nook of his neck and shoulder, and her upper body pressing against his back once more.
Damn that woman! Damn her for knowing exactly how to crack his offenses, and his defenses too, and make them crumble into dust.

"Mhmm", she purred in his ear, her voice so smooth and enticing it alone threatened to tempt him into succumbing, and yet at the same time encouraged him to keep resisting her, simply to allow her the pleasure of a somewhat more hard-earned but still inevitable victory. "I know you, César de la Vallière; there are few things that would keep you awake at night, and something of no importance isn't one of them."

That, he had to admit to himself, was true. He had fallen on his own sword on that one. Not that he would admit it to her though. Not just yet. Despite her efforts, he still had a little bit of fight in him.

"Besides, mon amour", Joséphine added, "you do not play fair. How could I possibly discern the importance of a matter from your mysterious question alone?"

Turning his head ever so slightly, just enough for him to glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a faint smirk came and went on his lips. Then he suddenly turned his head the other way, and let out a wide yawn, as if not only trying to wake himself up, but also hinting at just how disinterested he had grown in the conversation.
Once that was done, however, he shifted slightly in her arms, so that when he turned back to look at her, he could do so without breaking his neck.

"You're one to talk", he stated dryly, calling her on her own choice of method.

Though a moment later, a faint smirk appeared once again, and he cocked his head slightly in provocative defiance.

"If fair play is what you want, I suggest you, my dear, set the example," he said, and raised a challenging brow; a clear signal that he would not give in to her, unless she submitted to him first by asking nicely.


(((ooc: Gah! Won't have a chance to type something up for Octavien until tomorrow. :( Sorry Seiza. )))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was extremely surprised to find the calm woman answer him in English. He quickly tried to remeber if France and England were at war at the moment or just bad realtions. The reports that he had gotten in Zimbabwe had made it perfectly clear that it was always one or the other, but he decided that if the woman was standing there so calmly, and no one seemed to be inclined to do anything but gossip about her presence- and no one was doing anything much else it looked like- then there was probably no war. Bad relations then.

Not that Larkin had anything agaisnt the English, in Africa they were all over the place with their own trade routes, and an ambassador from England, who had asked to be taught French in exchange for English and letting Larkin have first choice of the spice markets. After several years of this Larkin thought himself passable at the language, and the poor englishwoman was quite obviously not perfectly fluent in French. She held out her hand and introduced herself as "Lady Charmaine de Mollier." Larkin waited a full second, wondering what was expected. He really hd forgotten all of his manners in Africa it seemed. So he shook Lady Charmaine's hand, and answered, in English, "Pleasure to meet you." smiling winningly. He wondered if the English had gotten so barbarous as to teach their women to shake hands with men. Or worse, if he had forgotten some very obvious courtesy to the lady.

He was not able to give it much thought, or even get a good look at her reaction, because the two women he had noticed earlier converged on him, with a man, who was by bearing and reputation obviously King Edouard. That would make his initial impression of who was Juliet and Isabella correct. The two women proceeded to both kiss him on the cheek and Juliet smiling away, said, "Larkin my dear, you are looking well."

He very nearly let his mild expression slip at that; he found it amusing. He was indeed doing well, but Juliet had never met him, he having left well before she and his brother had gotten married. A pleasantry then.

The royal family proceeded to chivvy him upstairs, and Larkin was sorely tempted to follow- he did want to meet his neice- but even after more than a decade's seperation from the court he knew that if he wanted any autonomy he couldn't immediately follow the king and queen, much though he'd like to. Carefully he extricated himself by saying, "Indeed sister-in-law, neice, and it is wondeful to be back. I suppose I ought to reacquaint myself with the palace, reconcile boyhood memories if you would. If you would excuse me..."

Dextrously he slipped out of the tiny press of royalty and traveled down the staircase, mayhaps a bit faster than was dignified or polite. He paused dramatically at the bottom to readjust his coat, and then walked off slowly towards a hallway, going leisurely to admire the wall decorations. He strongly hoped that the whole thing hadn't been damningly impolite, and that he hadn't laid it on too thick.

((OOC: Approachable))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Could my character please be known as Bella from here on due to any confusion that might arise (or has already arisen)? Thanks! :D)

[Fayreview]

((I see no problem with that Alissa, go ahead!))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Assuming Larkin wasn't talking about Bella when he said 'Isabella'. Hope I dothis right!)
The morning light pried its way into the carriage as it came to a slow, prolonged stop on the gravel. Bella lay back on the leather backrest of the seat, waiting patiently while the men outside clambered to get themselves in order. The door of the carriage finally open, barely disturbing her from her state of relaxation.
It was time.
She slid gracefully over to the door, placing one foot cautiously on the step before balancing her weight on it. The rest was practiced perfection as she glided down the stairs. The cool air mixed with the essence of the court members wandered over to her. Welcoming, enticing and threatening all the same.
Bella began to walk slowly over into the crowds of courtiers, the gravel under her shoes crunching slightly with every light step. Her footsteps were slow and controlled as her eyes drank in the movements of the courtyard.
She stopped briskly as an older woman dropped her fan at Bella's feet. Bella's eyes wandered up to the older woman. Her clothes were regal, grand and flattering, but the years had done no favours for her youth. She held remenants of beauty still, however. Better still, she looked rich and well connected.
Bella oozed out her best innocent smile before picking the fan from the ground and dusting it down before handing it to the older woman.
"Why thank you, dear," she said with an air of superiority. "I am the Duchesse Juliet de Margoles."
Bella knew full well who that name belonged to and bowed her head slightly, curtseying with grace.
"Tell me, do you have a name?" the Duchesse Juliet snapped.
"Isabella Devine, Duchesse," Bella smiled. "Bella."
"Ah, Devine," the Juliet tasted the name for rememberance. A flicker of recognition flashed through her eyes. "Ashton's little girl?"
"My father speaks highly of you," Bella volunteered.
"I'm sure he does," Juliet almost scoffed as she began to continue her path.

[AtropaMandragora]

For as long as Octavien could remember, there were certain things that had always been a part of his life. Things of a less tangible kind than family, wealth, good education and some of the finest horses in the country, in the known and civilized world even. One such less tangible thing, was intuition. Already as a child Octavien had learned to trust his instincts, his gut feeling, sometimes witnessing how as a direct result he would escape trouble, or manage to manuever himself in the best way possible to obtain or accomplish what he wanted in the company of others, and sometimes never really finding out just what possibly omnious occurence he had avoided or averted. Still he trusted them, as even lately they had succeeded in guiding him and had even been the cause of one of the biggest changes in his life so far. The encounter with Isabella in the forest. For while it was boldness that had made him approach her and push the boundaries of what was appropriate for someone such as him in a situation like that, it was instinct that had guided his actions and his words, and brought about the relationship that had formed between them.

Now seated opposite Duc d'Lorraine, and listening to his words as he prepared to share something of great importance, according to himself, Octavien felt that familiar stir in his gut. Though this time, it was a feeling of forewarning, and not a guiding hand. It was like a thousand bugs scurrying about in the pit of his stomach, telling him to brace himself for what was to come within the next few seconds. Even with the rather neutral expression on the Duc's face, he sensed it in the air, and the further the Duc got, the stronger it grew. Each word from his lips added to the tension.

"I met with the King this morning", the older man said. "Throughout this ordeal with Her Highness’ illness, His Majesty has been communicating with important personages beyond our borders. You would have seen some of them here, yesterday night."

So, was this to be about what had happened in the Blue Salon after all? For some reason, the look in the Duc's eyes upon entering into the Prince's suite, had had Octavien dismissing it. Perhaps because of the urgency in the Duc's request to meet with him. Correcting him on his behaviour, while important, would not have been such a remarkably pressing matter that the Duc would submit himself to waiting outside the Prince's suite and risk recieving a rejection, rather than send a formal and proper note. But, judging by his words just now, there might be a little more to it than just correcting Octavien's behaviour. The mention of how some of these 'important personages' had been present the previous evening... Had Octavien's unaccustomedness to carrying himself in similar situations somehow reflected so badly on the King, and caused problems in whatever relationship he had with these prominent figures?
A silly notion perhaps, had he not known that it would hardly be the first time a political rift had been caused by such subtle and seemingly irrelevant errors.

But, no sooner had he prepared for a discussion regarding the events of last night, than he was made to realize that it was indeed not what was on Duc d'Lorraine's mind at all.

"His Majesty wishes me to inform you that he has invited Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, daughter of the illustrious Grande of Spain, Duque Carlos Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, to... join you at the Palace."

At first, Octavien simply looked at Dimitri, trying to take in what he had just said, and make the pieces fit somewhere in the puzzle. A massive jumble of foreign words, spoken so fast that it was only towards the end of the long string names that he realized the Duc was talking about one of the most prominent people in Spain. Or rather, his daughter.
Invited by the King to join Octavien? Not 'us', not 'the court', but 'you', as in just Octavien. And that pause he had made before finishing the sentence... That pause, that tiny, most intentional hesitation, the kind often used when one was trying to express something unpleasant, as delicately and carefully as humanly possible.
Surely he didn't mean...?

Within moments, the realization dawned on the young Prince, and it was as if someone had sucked all the air out of his lungs, and stabbed him in the heart with a dagger made of pure ice. The King, a stranger with whom he had not yet even had his first proper conversation, had out of the blue decided what was to be his future, and not even bothered to discuss it with Octavien himself first, but simply sent his henchman to 'inform' him that his future was not for him to decide, or even effect? Like he was nothing more than a possession, like a dog on a leash, with no say whatsoever.

It was only through sheer will power and self-restraint that he managed to remain seated, and keep little more of his reaction to show, than the tightening of his jaw, when every fibre of his being wanted to simply explode. Though his voice, trembling just ever so slightly when finally he spoke, was somewhat more revealing to the fact that there was a hurricane of emotions raging through him, anger being perhaps the one most easy to identify. It was so subtle, however, that it would indeed take a man of the Duc's perceptive capacity to pick up on it;

"And if I ask you to in turn inform His Majesty that I am quite content with the company I keep already?" the young Prince said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Dimitri.

[Fayreview]

((Alissa Yes that is a good start, Only a brief word, that in this thread, the level of Godmodding (controlling other people's characters) is generally limited to bows and nods rather than speech. This doesn't apply to Juliet as she is not officially a character of anyone's, but that is just a note for interaction with other characters here at the baroque Court :) - Don't worry I'm not criticising :)


And listen to Octavien go! 'm sure the henchman will have something equally pointed to say :P))

[Seiza]

As he awaited the Prince’s reaction, revelation or confusion—the last seeming the least likely as each second ticked by—Dimitri held his wine glass gingerly, its smooth surface feeling unacceptably cold. The wafting scent was of a brand he only vaguely recognised. His hand tried to support it while making as little contact as possible; the rough pads of his fingertips barely grazing the glass, while the rest of his palm struggled to crawl away under his coat. The bulbous top swished lazily about, carefully balanced but always threatening to tip over in a flood of golden-white liquid.

He had the discomforting idea that he was holding the Prince’s—anger, emotion, something—in his hand. He wished to cast it away even more. He forced himself to hold it closely.

Dimitri made it no secret that he was watching Octavien, for to pretend otherwise was surely ridiculous. Men did not deliver potentially explosive news without staying on guard every step of the way. He did not rationally think the Prince would actually attack him—and over such news!—but Dimitri was the sort who considered all scenarios, and often picked the worst to prepare for.

A spurt of verbal defiance had been on the lower end of the list, but so Octavien delivered.

“And if I ask you to in turn inform His Majesty that I am quite content with the company I keep already?” the Prince suggested, as coolly and eloquently as his age and experience could afford—if not far more than one might expect. The Duc thought, not without grim appreciation, that they served a respectable restraint on what must be outrageous anger brewing inside. But it would be, ultimately, temporary.

Men were men, Princes or not; and the young were the most righteous of the lot.

Unfortunately, Dimitri balanced wine glasses better than he did men’s sensitivities.

“I am afraid your company is not yours to decide, Your Highness.” The golden liquid rippled in his glass, tilting to one side. “’The King speaks’…”

He wondered, idly, in that pocket of his mind disconnected from such encounters—if Octavien was finally realising the true gravity behind Edouard’s morning command. It was more, so much more, than mere words said for their sake. It would be so like the young to dismiss such ceremonies, ignorant of the power undergirding old traditions, only to be revolted when they learned the truth.

“…and, so he informs me, preparations have been made. It is only a matter of time before Her Excellency arrives. You shall not do her or our King dishonour by turning her away now.”

_____

(('Henchman'! :laugh: Dude, it's onnnn.

Nice, Alissa! Whoa, Bella sounds like she's ready to climb those ranks! But yep, as Fay said, just be careful about controlling others' characters when it comes to things like dialogue, though I reckon small things like the fan dropping is fine. :) ))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: *lol* Well, he's royally pissed (no pun intended, I swear!), and so it's nothing personal. He's young, hot-tempered and feeling pretty darned miserable, so... 'henchman' is probably one of the ¨nicer labels he could use to mentally refer to Dimitri! :D )))


The answer had been known to him. Long before the question had even made it past his lips, Octavien had known the rough outlines of the answer he could expect. But it had mattered little to him, as he had not expected it to change the outcome of the matter discussed. It had not been the point. The point, regardless of how useless it may seem to others, was that he was not a puppet, and would make it perfectly clear that he did not appreciate being treated as one, no matter who had final say in his destiny. To be treated as being not even a factor in the course of his own life, and by his own father-in-law no less... How humiliating. How absolutely, utterly humiliating. Especially to a temperamental and proud young man, who had always valued his freedom.

At the same, however, he was also a rational and educated young man, well aware of how monarchs would often arrange marriages between their children and cousins and whatnot, in order to ensure a peaceful future, an alliance. And so, despite his anger, and the flames of rebellion running high within him, he did understand - at least he thought he did - the reasons why the company of this Spanish whatshername might be so very desirable and important to the King.
Though it did little to quench the indignity he felt was being forced down his throat, by having the right to choose his own future stripped away from him. Was it truly too much to ask that he be made at least a participant in the making of his own fate?

"I am afraid your company is not yours to decide, Your Highness", Duc d'Lorraine said, casually sloshing the wine about in the glass he held so gingerly in his hand, and by doing so, by showing such detachment, only succeeded in adding fuel to the fire raging within the eyes of the young Prince. "’The King speaks’... and, so he informs me, preparations have been made. It is only a matter of time before Her Excellency arrives. You shall not do her or our King dishonour by turning her away now."

Had the Prince been any less of a gentleman, raised to control his temper even in the most provoking of situations, he would have thrown the Duc out, head first, and sent that glass of wine in which he found so much amusement flying right after him. The popularity of the saying 'don't shoot the messenger' had sometimes been questioned by Octavien, as it had always been quite clear to him that one was not at fault simply for being unfortunate enough to be the bearer of bad news. Now, however, he could all of a sudden understand just why one might want to shoot the messenger. There were good ways to deliver bad news, and there were bad ways to deliver bad news. And then, and this would be very much applicable to the present, there were ways of making bad news even worse when delivering them.
Sometimes, it was remarkable what a little sympathy could do. The lack thereof? Not so much.

Still, Octavien fought hard to control his temper, and after his nails had dug into the armrests of the chair for a few seconds, the most overpowering tension seeped out of him, though far from all of it, and he slowly stood.

"So then I am to understand that my personal opinion on the matter is to be regarded as irrelevant?", he said, venomously stating rather than asking a question. "That I, in less than two days, have turned from husband of His Majesty's beloved daughter, to a mere pawn his game of politics? And that rather than give me the chance to agree with him, he wishes to not only anger me by taking away what I have already given willingly once, but also add insult to the injury, by not telling me face to face?"

At this point, he cared little that his words held a hint to something that, if he picked up on it, might cause quite a bit of confusion in the Duc, but instead turned his back to him, just long enough to reach the nearby window. There he turned again, and looked at Dimitri, with eyes that were now merely smoldering, the fire previously in them having died down, and left only traces of anger, and of something that had been too well hidden to be spotted, until now, and hardly even that; tiny, faint fragments of bewildered hurt, as if he was struggling to understand why the King felt it was necessary to command, when simply suggesting might have been enough.

"Does he truly resent me so?"


(((*edit* ooc: Oh my. Just got to see what an unedited post of mine really looks like. Wasn't pretty. *lol* Should be somewhat ok now though.)))

[Fayreview]

((Ouch.... Maybe Dimitri and Mercy should both be grateful Octavien IS a gentleman....))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Eeek! *dives in bomb shelter* I would't want to be in Octavien's suite right now...and somehow I don't think that meeting Her Excellency will improve his mood....:num: ))

César and Joséphine -- stalemate? in their suite

Not unlike other games men and women liked to play, one could never be quite certain of the outcome of César and Joséphine's battle of wits' endurance until the challenge was set into motion. Like players on opposite sides of a chessboard they sized eachother up, looking for ways to gain the upper hand, employing all of that precious time to asses their advantages and then, a first move was made.

Persuasion could take many forms, Joséphine's preferred method being sweet words and caresses underlying her original motive , not only because it was her natural weapon as a woman, but because César was susceptible to it. Her husband's indifference was her weakness, and he feigned it skilfully, so much that at times she was unable to discern between a tactic of getting her to submit and genuine disinterest. It was so that a brief flinch crossed the Marquise's brow as César gave a leisurely yawn and shifted in her arms. The amusement of their games was inherent to their light hearted nature, and lack of hurt feelings; the moment that changed, it ceased to be a game and became an argument.

"You're one to talk", César chided, but his smirk belied his true opinion. The match was still on.

"If fair play is what you want, I suggest you, my dear, set the example," the Marquis finished on a challenging tone, matched perfectly by a slightly upturned brow.

Joséphine had expected nothing less; surrendering without a fight was nothing short of alien for her husband, and, although she had never told him, it was one of the things that she loved about him. A pushover with no fire in his soul who had no opinion of his own seemed the perfect ingredient for a bland and dreary marriage.

In the end, Joséphine did not mind stepping down and handing César his well earned victory when she knew he deserved it, and was right about something. That morning however she reckoned he truly was petulant, seized by his characteristic stubbornness regarding this mysterious comment she had apparently made. She had one more card up her sleeve though.

Joséphine's tiny, round shoulders sagged forth, her chin descending towards her chest; heavy eyelids lowered themselves halfway across twin, darkening jade eyes, her lips pursed together forming a slight downwards curve.

“You are right, César,” she murmured, sighing softly “I apologize for trying to ease my husband's troubled mind with my thoughtless question and disturbing his sleep at the height of morning.”

The very image of unquestioning submission, Joséphine's new attitude might have seemed genuine if one was particularly unreceptive. Leaving her lap, the Marquise's gaze sought César's eyes, a mischievous twinkle re-igniting there:

“And for doing so through...less than innocent means,” she added, a wide, knowing smirk shining across her face, an honest admission of the fault she knew she had.

“Quid pro quo, mon amour?”

(In case it's confusing, the meaning of quid pro quo (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quid_pro_quo) )

[ElektraNatchios33]

Padme looked through the window of her carriage as as it traveled to her new home. The scenery was breathtaking, and she only hoped that the palace was just as or even more beautiful as the green foilage. As the carriage made a turn and the palace came into view, Padme's heart skipped a beat, to know that humble little her was going to live in a court that could soon be her future.

It came to a stop as it rounded around the courtyard. A man opened the door and she stepped out ever so gracefully, gazing at the building, not where her feet were going. Her two measly looking trunks appeared before her. She started to pick them up, as a servant would, and the man stopped her before she could get both hands on them. She had to remember that others would take care of chores as so.

The man led her to her new suite and layed the trunks gingerly down on the floor. She was very tierd from her journey, but the adreneline that was unknowingly being pumped through her body wanted to keep her awake. Padme sat down in a nearby confy looking chair and thought of what the first thing she should do. Unpack. She fluffed some dust off her emerald green dress and got up after only sitting for a few seconds and began to unload dresses into dresser drawers.

((Fay- I updated her app , minor, but I think it makes a bit more sense, and added a much better picture. Padme is approachable.

[AtropaMandragora]

Question: How did one triumph over a woman who knew all your weaknesses like the back of her own hand? Not yet married for so long that all the mystery and excitement of their relationship was gone, and their partner seemed completely and boringly predictable - far from it - Joséphine had still managed to learn just what was the easiest way to coax a desired reaction from her husband. Even when he knew exactly what she was up to, she still had found a way that left him unable to resist. Provided, of course, that they were merely participating in a game of playful bickering, and not arguing for real. Once that happened, she would find him far more difficult to manipulate. As would he her. Not impossible, but requiring a heck of alot more effort.

This was one such occasion, when even though he knew she was playing him like an instrument, César found it so very hard to resist her, to not give in and let her win this round. The most remarkable thing, was that it was by appearing to submit to him herself, that she managed to turn it all to her advantage. The operative word being "appearing". She was putting on a show fit for the Paris theatre, turning herself into the very image of submissive innocence rebuked, by lowering her head and voice, and sporting an almost convincing look of regretful shame.

"You are right, César," she nearly whispered, and her dear husband had to resist rolling his eyes at her. In a most playful and affectionate way, of course. "I apologize for trying to ease my husband's troubled mind with my thoughtless question and disturbing his sleep at the height of morning."

Almost convincing, had it not been for the fact that no sooner had she spoken those oh-so-repentant words, than her gaze lifted to meet with his, and her eyes lit up with pure mischief, both accompanied by a smirk to complete the look.

"And for doing so through... less than innocent means," she said, and then added, now that she could claim to have fulfilled her end of the deal; "Quid pro quo, mon amour?"

Bad mood and morning crankiness all forgotten, César could not help but to laugh, a soft chuckle pushing past his lips and bringing light and amusement to his eyes as well, before ending in a much satisfied smile. She may have acted when delivering most of her apology, but by God, he would still treat it as had it been sincere through and through; as a surrender without terms for her, and pure triumph for him. A perfect act on both their parts.

"Fine, fine", he finally relented, and shifted yet a little more, as if wanting to be able to look at her properly.

His true intention, however, soon revealed itself. With the celerity of a striking cobra, his arm coiled itself around her waist and he pushed her back onto the bed, following in the motion to place himself on top of her, and conequently pin her down with his superior build.

"What I wanted to know, mon petit chéri," he said, with his lips a mere inch from hers, "was what you meant by what you said to the Comtesse de Valois last night, about a son."

Pausing momentarily, he planted on her lips a kiss so soft and fleeting she could hardly feel it, and brushed his fingertips against her cheek before sending them to venture downward, tracing her slender figure until they reached her belly. There they stopped, and his thumb started moving in circular motions, caressing the area just below her ribs.

"Should I be getting my hopes up?" he added with slight smile. "Or should we simply give it another try?"

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth exited her room quickly after putting her writing supplies away. She had finished the letter to her son, and had sealed it in a similar fashion to the one for her sister. Now those were held tightly in her gloved hands as she walked down the halls looking for Monsieur Lambriquet to send the letters for her. And as luck would have it, she spotted him coming down the halls to her room as she exited it. She paused as he came towards her and made an elaborate bow.

“Madame” he said, rising from the bow “How lucky of me to find you so quickly. Are those letters I see in your hand?” “They are indeed Simon” she said, smiling and holding them out “One for Charles and one for my sister. I’m certainly glad you found me so fast. I was afraid I’d have to spend all day looking for you. It is quite the maze in here”.

“Indeed Madame, I shall be glad to get back home where it’s familiar” he said with a faint laugh, carefully taking the letters from Marie-Elisabeth’s hand. “Well I shant keep you” she said, “Be sure to send my love to Charles and tell him his mother misses him”.

Simon nodded and bowed again. “Of course I will Madame, I shall take my leave of you now”. She nodded back to him and waved as he departed down the long corridors. She hoped he would have a safe journey home, and was already looking forward to reading the replies to her letters.

Marie-Elisabeth was now at a loss as to what to do with herself. She didn't really have any other plans for the day, so she settled for walking down the corridors herself and seeing what came her way.


((( OOC: Approachable. Sorry for the short/crapness but I wanted to get her out of that room LOL She needed to be there for a bit though, so oh well :P )))

[Fayreview]

The three Royal's halted, Juliet inhaled deeply, with a look of shock glimmering on her face for some 13 second. Edouard coughed and Isabella looked at a loss for words, but as Royal's did, they made it blend into routine, despite being shunned by a family member, Edouard and Isabella decided as they had barely broken their gate to follow Larkin inside arm in and arm and Juliet swerved off to talk to a footman before decending the steps once again to great the English woman, In deed unless you had been watching their faces very closely or seen the slight pause in their walk as Larkin had shrugged them off you would have believed this was their precise desire.

Edouard and Isabella disappeared once again from the eye of the public, whilst Juliet forced herself to speak in English "It is a pleasure to meet you, may I enquire as to your name?"

"Charmaine de Mollier, Lady Charmaine de Mollier," Charmaine gave her a smile as if saying now you maybe impressed.

"de Mollier...." Juliet paused, "I am so sorry for your families loss, Edouard would have been lost without the Duc." Juliet spoke the truth, Edoaurds wishy washy nature was clear. "I am the Duchesse de Margoles, the Queen's mother.

"So I am told, my husband Michael misses him, naturally the joining of our families made sense, with how much power is held both here and back home."

"Will your husband be joining you here?" Thankfully juliet was leaving for she felt the idea of having two English people in Court sounded like murder, for class and fashion purposes they were a severe liability.

"No i do not think so," Charmaine smiled as a footman offered to direct her to her rooms. "It was a pleasure meeting you dear Duchess." Charmaine turned on her heel and left, Juliet quite fortunately had been prepared this time for desertion and was rallying up carriage drivers for the departure of herself and Isabella.

((Atropa I know Isabella and Edouard have been looking like a blissful couple recently, but that of course is what Edouard needs afetr Adalita's death and Isabella is just playing along, however if I were to explain that in here thoughts, it would sound hollow and unimaginative, I don't think there is an Isabella without Shenan...))

[Seiza]

“…And that rather than give me the chance to agree with him, he wishes to not only anger me by taking away what I have already given willingly once, but also add insult to the injury, by not telling me face to face?” Apparently reaching the end, the Prince turned away, and Dimitri placed his glass on the table. It may have been the only outward indication that something disturbed him: the same niggling sensation that struck him when the Queen collapsed, and when he sat opposite the Prince in the carriage. Something in the wording…

But, as he did in both situations, Dimitri pushed it back, to be dealt with later, later, later.

As far as the Duc knew, he never gave the impression that he spoke carelessly. His tone had always been measured (irritatingly so, as closer associates complained). It served not to hide the indication that every word was strenuously deliberated, but to declare it explicitly to the world. As a fencer’s raised blade, a lion’s proud mane; it showed that he knew he could be attacked and had already prepared—one day, two days, thirty years earlier—for it.

The Prince might, then, have some inkling that his wording had been no mistake. Perhaps that accounted for some of the anger. One could forgive an accidental stab, but it was far harder to forgive a purposeful attack. His intention was to impress upon Octavien—as brutally as he had to—the reality of his situation. Prince in name he may be, but without Adalita to speak for him, the title was useless.

“Does he truly resent me so?” The earlier restraint… not ‘crumbled’, per se; but something had been torn away. The sheer curtain, perhaps, burned away by the embers in the Prince’s bright eyes.

It was an illuminating question, for it described to Dimitri the relationship—or lack of one—Octavien had with His Majesty. He never saw the Prince in Edouard’s chambers, never heard of them riding together or engaging in other companionable activities. Edouard’s desire for Dimitri to deliver such important news on his behalf, and now this question, only cemented his impression that the Prince was far more favoured by one parent than the other.

Nevertheless, he had been expecting more outrage and not this sudden, soft, weary question. It deserved more contemplation. Was Octavien asking of the marriage itself, and his lack of participation beyond being the bridegroom; or was it about Edouard sending a messenger in his place?

Hard to say. Either way, he seemed to already believe that some personal emotion was involved in the decision-making process.

“…Your Highness. I can neither speculate His Majesty’s motives nor why he sent me in his stead. It may be for intricate reasons involving your relationship, and therefore beyond my bounds. Or for the simple fact that the Queen’s uncle needed welcome, that Your Highness needed to be informed immediately, and I was the only person His Majesty felt… suitable to deliver the news.”

Edouard could have just written a note. As Dimitri considered the current situation, perhaps that would have been the better alternative.

“Has Your Highness ever served in battle?” His own question came out of the blue, so much so that Dimitri could carry on unimpeded. “Have you been caught behind enemy lines? Does Your Highness know what goes on between two gentlemen who have fired upon each other, watched their comrades killed by the other?

“Dinner. That is all. Perhaps, if they were provisioned for it, some cards and wine. If it was a Sunday, one may join the other for Mass. So it continues until the prisoner escapes or is ransomed, and they face off in the next battle.” Dimitri ran a finger over the rim of his golden glass, now firmly on the table, looking at the young Prince. “Never shall I say resentment and such passions do not have their place in our world. But there are times when emotions are not a factor. To assume it always is will drive you… If you wish to keep your…”

Sanity was the word, but he decided against it.

“…You have to keep it all—emotions, diplomacies, your entire awareness—compartmentalised, to be summoned at the appropriate time. You must realise that as immediately as possible.”

Dimitri spoke as steadily as he always did, and to any casual observer, he may have sounded unchangingly unsympathetic. Maybe even a tad cold. But even as the words came forth, their cadence might have changed to the discerning ear. As he reached the end, he seemed to speak less to an inexperienced Prince and more to—or from the experience of—an angry, confused boy.

______

((*lmao!* Have some confidence in Dimitri’s political acumen (rusty as it might be, it’s better than his emotional one, thankfully!). He’s got his back covered. ;)

Fay: Don't worry too much about Isabella. *pats* I doubt anyone expects to cover for Shenan, or we wouldn't be sending the Queen away!))

[Seiza]

((Just to get things going for our new arrivals :D))
______


Watching the events by the palace entrance unfold, Rukov hadn’t bothered to hide himself very well. These were only another batch of nobles arriving, not much different from the previous batches that came for the funeral—except for the man, who he suspected was the Queen’s uncle the Duc had referred to, whose sudden departure certainly turned a few heads his way. The rest were of the young and female variety—Rukov was not at all averse to the fairer sex, but he thought his lord would groan at the diminishing portion of male candidates in Court. The most significant may have been the Englishwoman, who knew she was related to the departed Mollier…?

“Get your ass moving, boy! We have bags waiting and no more hands to pick ‘em up!” One of the lesser stewards snapped at Rukov, who consequently regretted not hiding himself better. The steward’s finely combed head turned this way and that, before finally pointing at a new arrival, “There, that one! I’d not risk your clumsy self anywhere near a Duchesse, but that one will do. Go on now!”

The young woman may have been just another bland specimen as well, if not for her curious attempt to pick up her own bags—as well as their pitiful number compared to the volumes of luggage carried by other noblewomen. The wonder in her eyes was, likely, not that different from the awe in many courtiers’ faces, but most of them usually hid it better than that…

Rukov picked up her two trunks, easily with his ox-like strength. She followed him to her suite—the suite of the Mademoiselle Padme Castilla, as he was informed.

After setting her things down in her room, Rukov… decided to stay. Outside her room, of course. His instinct paid off—he could hear the strenuous sound of luggage being dragged, the miscellaneous noises of one who unpacked. But there had been no maids or servants waiting in the room, and none had yet arrived.

Was the silly woman unpacking herself?

Chuckling to himself, Rukov knocked. Loudly. He counted to three, before speaking through the door, affecting a voice extremely humble and meek, riddled with broken French. “Is there anything else, Mademoiselle? A maid will be here in a minute to unpack for ye.”

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Thanks Fayreview, Atropa and Seiza! I'm glad the first one went okay! So, controlling the non-owned characters in okay, right? Seiza and Atropa, I love the interaction between Octavien and Dimitri, it's certainly engaging!)

Juliet had begun to walk towards another woman stood in the courtyard and Bella was left to herself once again. She backtracked slightly, not looking away incase Juliet had something left to say to her. Bella knew she'd made an impression, whether good or bad depended on her father's history. Nonetheless, whatever it was, Bella was perfectly capable of handling it. Juliet would certainly be a beneficial connection, Bella decided. Her antagonism - any now or in the future - was worth dealthing with.

She turned slightly to witness the porters begin to haul her luggage out of the carriage with little grace. She sighed with exasperation; nothing hurt Bella more than to see her possessions so uncared for.
She wandered over to the men as they poured their efforts into causing as much damage an possible - unintentionally, of course. It may have been unintentional, but it was happening anyway.

As Bella stopped a few feet away from the men battling the tunks, they stopped and glanced up to the smiling Bella.

"Gentlemen," she smiled politely, ready to use her authority. She only used suggestions for now, blatant orders will be employed later, if necessary. "Surely, there is ample 'gentleness' left to be used in the transportation of those?"

They mended their ways. Bella wasn't one for waiting while things were being done for her. She knew her luggage would be delivered to the suite, she'll soon know where the suite was and she expected that they cases would be unpacked when she arrived back. She also knew that if anything went wrong in that chain, there would be hell to pay.

This was the time for adventure, the time to make new acquaintances. Bella's eyes on the perfect candidate. A young woman, wearing exquisite clothes stood before Bella as she walked further into the palace. Bella climbed the stairs cautiously to the other woman, searching for any hint as to who she might be. There was almost no such give away, nothing except the accumulation of subtle signs. Ah, she knew who this woman was. Comtesse Marie-Elisabeth Valois, widowed and rich by proxy. Furthermore, Bella came under the impression that Marie-Elisabeth seemed intent on flaunting her position with airs and graces.

Bella decided she'd put her own noble roots to good use in befriending the Comtesse.

"It is a lovely day, is it not?" Bella smiled pleasantly, wanting to attract the attention of the other woman. "Isabella Devine. Bella."

Bella couldn't tell whether the name Devine had triggered the usual flicker behind the eyes and simply waited for the response;everyone who was anyone knew everyone else who was anyone, as far as Bella was concerned.
(OCC: Bella is approachable)

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Alissa - Thank you, I'm enjoying it as well. It's quite intense! :) One thing though... Marie-Elisabeth isn't English... And it's also advised that you leave Marie-Elisabeth's reaction to being approached to slytherin-girl, as giving a neutral look might not be what slytherin wants her character to do. :)

Ghanima - I almost feel sorry for Elena! *lol* )))


As Octavien had reached the window, and spun around to deliver the last in his ever growing line of questions, he had spotted something out of the corner of his eye, in the doorway to one of the adjoining rooms. Gilles. Like the faithful companion he was, the older man had a tendency to appear when he sensed Octavien might need the support. Though to any outsider, it would appear he merely made himself available, should his young master demand that the visitor was escorted out, or simply needed for something to be fetched or dispatched. Or, considering the recent excitement with the attempt made on the Prince's life, as somewhat of a bodyguard. For while he may have lived a fairly long life in comparison to his youthful master, he was by no means a fragile man, and would, if needed, put up a good fight.

Still, while Gilles' appearance played a small part in the sudden cooling of Octavien's temper, it was not what had caught the young Prince's attention. It was the somewhat hesitant look stirring just underneath the surface of the man's placid expression, the hint of worry dancing in the shadows of his eyes. Perhaps he feared that Octavien really would loose his temper. The boy had been under a considerable amount of pressure lately, and it seemed one thing after another kept being added to push him even further away from his usually very amiable and composed demeanor. Or, perhaps, he was wondering if somewhere in the near future, he would once again be made to suffer the consequences of his young master's rage, much like last time it had grown to such immense proportions that the boy could no longer keep it contained. Gilles still had not forgotten how he had been mere inches from walking away from the experience a head short than he had entered it.

However, the distraction he caused was so brief that it lasted no more than a moment, a split second flying by so fast that before anyone else would have a chance to register it, Octavien's gaze had returned to Dimitri, just as he started speaking.

"Your Highness", the Duc said, having hesitated momentarily himself, and then went on claim that he knew nothing of the King's reasons for doing what he had done, and how, and that he could not speculate.

Yet not seconds later after that very statement, he still offered what he apparently believed to be plausible scenarios, perhaps simply to try and lift the small shadow Octavien had cast on the King with his question, or perhaps to appeal to the composed side of him, by showing that currently, there were indeed other matters for a King to deal with. Though it only managed to cause a slight but pointedly disdainful snort from Octavien, who obviously either did not believe such a close friend of the King would indeed know so little of what went on inside the head of their monarch, or found neither of the scenarios to be the least bit extenuating. Or, and most likely, a little bit of both.

Still, the Duc didn't let that stop him, but simply carried on, making an analogy that first had Octavien almost raising a brow as if wishing to silently question what the man was getting at, but ultimately refraining from following it through. Mostly because the analogy as swiftly followed by another lecture, which brought all the Prince's venom to surface once more.

"Never shall I say resentment and such passions do not have their place in our world", Dimitri said. "But there are times when emotions are not a factor. To assume it always is will drive you... If you wish to keep your..."

For the first time, the revered Duc d'Lorraine seemed to stumble and hesitate when choosing his words. So much so, that he finally decided to simply re-phrase;

"You have to keep it all — emotions, diplomacies, your entire awareness — compartmentalised", he concluded, "to be summoned at the appropriate time. You must realise that as immediately as possible."

When making his decision, and agreeing to marry Adalita, Octavien had known that his life from then on would be quite filled with duties and 'must's. But quite frankly, at the moment, he was growing sick of them. You must, you must not, you will, you will not, you shall, you shall not. Each and every single one of those words were slowly eating away at his patience. Not his ability to control himself, but at his willingness to use it. To simply explode into a fit of rage was growing increasingly tempting. If for no other reason than to purge himself of all the tension and frustration that yesterday's ride had only temporarily pushed aside.

At the same time, he knew that it could prove to be a dire mistake, and quite possibly unjustified to make the Duc the target of such an outburst. He was the one currently holding the last straw and if deciding to drop it onto Octavien's burden, would be the one to break the camel's back, as the saying went. But something in his approach had changed. Not his tone, not his posture, not even the look on his face, but rather something underneath it all, so subtle that had Octavien not taken a moment to reflect in order to shackle his desire to simply roar with anger, he would have surely missed it.

"With all due respect, Duc d'Lorraine...", the young Prince replied, and the fire and fierceness had found their way back into his eyes. "... and, you may think me no more than an uneducated and far too brazen whelp for saying so, but I do not believe it is I that is currently in need of a lecture on the appropriate time for emotions and the like. There are times when a single kind word, or a show of understanding can have twice the effect of any lengthy but indifferent explanation, or an uncompromising command completely disregarding the sentiments of it's target. It is my belief that it is the ability to tell the difference, and recognize such times, that seperates the truly noble sovereigns, from the tyrants."

As he spoke, his tone of voice slowly morphed once again, calming slightly with every word, and ending up presenting not a harsh accusation, but a simple, composed observation as he slowly perched himself on the windowsill. There he paused for a moment, in speech and in actions alike, allowing his thoughtful gaze to trace the intricate pattern of the carpet underneath the chairs and table, before returning to lock with Dimitri's.

"A King that commands when he needs not shows one of two things, Duc d'Lorraine; foolishness, for not realizing and recognizing the support he already has. Or fear. Only fear of loosing what he has, drives a man to try and keep it with force."

Here he paused again, and raised his hand to gently rub his temples, as if trying to fend off a growing headache, while giving a heavy sigh. In truth, he was contemplating how to deal with the situation. Currently, he didn't have much leverage to strenghten his position. While Isabella was still backing him, and would refuse to see him sent off or demoted, or otherwise disposed of, she was going to be far away, where news would reach her only when it was much too late to act. And, if the King wanted Octavien to marry this Elena for political purposes, it might just be enough to ensure him a somewhat more stable future at the Palace...

"I am aware that I am neither Prince nor noble from birth, that I have yet to learn how to carry myself properly at all times, and that I am in no position to critize His Majesty", he thus finally concluded, and this time, he took his time raising his head and returning Dimitri's gaze. "And I will of course abide by His Majesty's wishes. It is just my own humble wish that I be treated as a man, and not a possession. Surely that does not make me unreasonable? After all, if pushed too hard, possessions often break. Men adapt. And a man that is allowed the liberty to submit because he wants to, stands more firmly behind his master and his master's cause, than one who is left no say, and no choice."

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Thanks, Atropa.
Whoa, it sounds like Octavien's about to reach breaking point with all his obligations!)

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had paused when the other woman approached her, looking her over carefully and trying to figure out just who she was. She wasn’t a high ranking noble person, that much was certain. If she was she would have known to call her Madame or at least Comtesse before introducing herself.

Marie-Elisabeth wasn’t exactly the most rigid rule abider in the palace, but there were some things she just wouldn;t let fly. And she really didn’t appreciate someone acting so familiar with her unless she knew them. Unless of course that person was a certain brown haired Marquis….

Marie-Elisabeth shook her head, effectively stopping the less than ladylike thoughts that were gathering in her mind. “I’m sure it is Miss Devine” she replied, managing to keep the annoyed look off her face “I’ll have to take your word for it as I’ve been inside for most of the morning”.

The name hadn’t sparked any recognition in her mind either, which further re enforced her earlier idea that the woman was some sort of lower noble. Her husband had been acquainted with all the higher ranked nobles of the land, and while she may not have known them all by face she did know them by name. And the name Devine was not one that sprang to mind as being of particular importance. But still, she would at least be polite to the woman.

“You must have just arrived” she continued “I didn’t see you at all during yesterday’s events. I’m the Comtesse de Valois, so pleased to meet you”.

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Oooh, that's not gonna help Bella's ego)
"Enchante," Bella greeted with perfect decorum.
Bella was disappointed -even marginally angry - at Marie-Elisabeth's failure to recognise the family name. However, it was clear that Bella's impetuous behaviour, carrying on from the Abbey, was far from finished with her. She had to regain control.
Bella smiled at the Comtesse.
"Forgive me for my rudeness, Comtesse," she offered. "I am Baroness Isabella Devine. My father and your late husband were well acquaintances, I believe? Please accept my condolences for your loss."
She decided to proceed to answer Marie-Elisabeth's earlier question.
"I have just arrived at court, and sadly missed yesterday's events," she explained. "Please, do tell me, have I missed anything interesting?"
Bella hoped that would redeem her lapse in behaviour. It was a learning curve, she told herself. Any such journey included its mistakes, but they were far from excusable if Bella refused to learn from them.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth could tell the young woman was upset with her for not recognizing her name. She had almost laughed at that, seeing how Bella was so obviously displaying her emotions. That was definitely not something that would serve her well in this court.

She paused for a moment after Bella finished talking. She did that to curb the instinct to merely dismiss the woman’s claim, which she knew was false. She knew the names of all of Charles’ acquaintances, and it had been part of her studies as a child to learn all the noble lineages of the country. Her mother had insisted upon it, so that she and her multitude of siblings would know the genealogy of the Noble Houses they would eventually marry into. The name rang a very faint bell, but all she could remember was something about disgrace. And that was never something good to remember.

“Thank you for your condolences Baroness” she said, nodding towards her “But I’m afraid you must be mistaken. I know well the names of all of my late husband’s friends, and yours does not seem to ring any bells. Perhaps it was a brother of his?”.

She smiled politely, reaching up to adjust one of her golden curls in danger of coming loose from her elaborate coiffure. “And you have indeed missed a great deal” she continued “We had the great misfortune to loose the young Princess only a few days ago, and her funeral was held yesterday”.



((OOC: Marie-Elisabeth's is just as bad, and Bella's lower ranked than her so she's perfectly justified to be bothered :P )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Oh jeez, César and Joséphine are having fun while poor Octavien gets pushed into a corner by the Duc. :lol: felt almost guilty writing this post xD

Oh and I wouldn't feel too sorry for Elena ;) You'll see what I mean once I bring her in. Bwaha.

*Watches Marie-Elisabeth and Bella...from a distance!* ))

Joséphine and César ----their suite

Endgame finalized, unrestrained mirth in the form of a cheerful chuckle filled the de la Vallière suite much like the sun's brilliant rays cascading through the tall windows. Within seconds, César and Joséphine had shed their guarded stance, allowing themselves a moment of being who they truly were, comfortable in eachother's presence.

Seeing her husband's eyes lit up and all previous crankiness ebb away from his features infused Joséphine with a feeling of private relief: there had been times in the past when a seemingly mutual game of witty cat-and-mouse had turned sour with a badly-placed comment that simply toed the line too far. Considering recent happenings and the looming threat of the pretty blond Comtesse, an argument brought by a matter she did not even know yet would have been a senseless mistake.

"Fine, fine", César intoned and twisted around. Then, quite suddenly, Joséphine found herself a prisoner in her husband's grip, though only for a split second, before she was lifted off her feet and held firmly in place beneath his larger frame. A brief gasp issued forth from the Marquise's parted lips, her eyes rounding slightly with surprise. César's hands were locked on her wrists, his knees clasped on the either side of her thighs while the rest of him hovered above. From that position, she could look straight into his eyes, which glittered with mischief behind a curtain of loose brown hair.

"What I wanted to know, mon petit chéri, was what you meant by what you said to the Comtesse de Valois last night, about a son." said the Marquis, brushing his lips against hers for a tantalizing instant. His knuckles then moved to bestow a soft caress across Joséphine's pallid cheek and followed the outline of her body downwards to her abdomen. As an immediate physical response, a quiver surged through the entire length of the Marquise's stretched out frame, feeding fuel to the flame that such proximity and touches tended to spark within her, though she was not quite ready yet to abandon herself to it - having at last learned the reason for César's nocturne worrying left her, in all honesty, perplexed. It wasn't what she had been expecting at all. In fact, as soon as they had left the Blue Salon and Marie-Elisabeth de Valois behind, Joséphine had all but forgotten her comment regarding a son, as neither the Comtesse nor César appeared to have perceived it. Its purpose having been that of sidetracking Marie-Elisabeth by subtle assurance that hers and César's marriage was still very much alive despite what she might have been lead to believe, it subsequently became lost among her other thoughts. Not for César though, apparently, causing Joséphine to wonder for how long he had been harbouring similar thoughts. She knew he wanted a son, but had she been underestimating just how badly?

"Should I be getting my hopes up?" he smiled down at her. "Or should we simply give it another try?"

Despite the ever growing temptation presented by that second proposition, Joséphine responded with a ring of clear laughter and a somewhat bemused gaze:

“That was all?” she chuckled, snaking her way into a more comfortable position from where she could reach both arms around the Marquis' back. “Mon dieu, all this mystery had me worried that something dire was the matter!”

Taking a hold of the palm César held over her belly, Joséphine pressed it down and held it there:

“It is too early to tell,” she began, smiling widely. “And as much as we both wish for a son, I do not want you to get your hopes up yet, but I'm more than a week late, César. That has rarely happened unless...” she hesitated “...I was with child.”

Joséphine then buried her fingers in her husband's soft hair, guiding his head downwards where their lips could freely meet.

“Though I see no reason why we couldn't add to the odds, just in case” she said in a mere whisper, followed by a soft trail of chuckling.

[Seiza]

“With all due respect, Duc d'Lorraine...” The fire, which had lowered into smouldering embers just before, now blazed back at him with renewed strength. As the Prince so casually dismissed his ‘lecture’ and embarked on one of his own, Dimitri sighed inwardly, regretting the decision to take the oblique approach. He was too terrible with analogies to try anything but a direct statement, apparently. Well, perhaps one day the Prince will find himself sitting with his enemy at dinner, hearing prayers for their fallen comrades from the mouth of the man who skewered them, and realise the necessity of completely detaching one’s emotions from the whole question of war itself—wars, births, deaths and marriages. The whole lot.

If Octavien could still desire mollycoddling and soothing assurances—at his age! at his station!—of how things ‘could be worse’ than marriage to a Spanish noblewoman, then he was far from being ready to severe his emotions from himself.

“A King that commands when he needs not shows one of two things, Duc d'Lorraine; foolishness, for not realizing and recognizing the support he already has. Or fear. Only fear of loosing what he has, drives a man to try and keep it with force.”

Edouard! Suspicious! His slight, sheepish King, who needed the combined forces of his Queen and a hermit friend, just to pick an Advisor…!

…Yet how often had Dimitri the chance to witness the true Octavien speaking? Just the rarity of this opportunity—and, depending on how it ended, perhaps it would be his last one before the Prince banned him from his suite altogether—made it worth sitting quietly through the other’s condemnation of Edouard’s decision.

But the Prince lapsed into thoughtful silence, which allowed Dimitri to muse as well. There was one good point made. Certainly, he was beginning to wonder who initiated the marriage proposal at all. Other than when he stabbed a Spaniard’s eye in an impromptu tournament, causing a flurry of letters and payments flying both ways, Dimitri did not communicate extensively with the Spaniards. But he was certain that the aristocracy of Ferdinand and Isabella’s homeland held more cunning in a thimble than Edouard did in all his wigs.

‘Fear’, impossible. Edouard, like a child, did not recognise the concept, because he did not recognise treachery until it shot him in the face.

But ‘foolishness’… quite possible.

Drawing Dimitri from his own contemplation, Octavien continued as one who had come to a hard decision, his head lifting heavily from where it had lowered. It was hard to determine just how sincere his humility was. Despite his admission of weaknesses, there did not seem to be a willingness to learn from those who offered. There clearly was a proud streak to him that refused to bow, even to the King, without a fight. Nevertheless, Dimitri was happy, for now, that he seemed ready to move on to actually dealing with the news.

“It is just my own humble wish that I be treated as a man, and not a possession. Surely that does not make me unreasonable?”

…Hmm. Maybe not.

“After all, if pushed too hard, possessions often break. Men adapt. And a man that is allowed the liberty to submit because he wants to, stands more firmly behind his master and his master's cause, than one who is left no say, and no choice.”

Dimitri figured that he could not dig his grave any deeper than it already was, and so was quite willing to give a reply. He steepled his long fingers together, elbows resting on his armrests, and thought. He did not wish to antagonise, although they might have reached the point where Octavien could find fault in his posture if he so wanted. But he seemed willing to… make some sort of peace for now; a sentiment the Duc shared.

“Our respective views of ‘possession’ notwithstanding, Your Highness, you are right—you are a man. Thus no matter how His Majesty may push you, I am confident you shall adapt accordingly.”

Now, all things considered, Dimitri did not think the young man was a complete loss. He had won over the Duchesse de Margoles the night before, had he not? Octavien just had this naïveté about him that was… well, he did not need the Duc to crush such optimism. A few months at Court would do just as well, if it had not done so already.

“A glimpse for you into the mind of His Majesty, Your Highness: this is simply his method. He rather likes mediation between himself and… everyone else. Among his lessons was not to give a man the liberty to choose at all, for there was always the chance he would choose not to submit. Nonetheless, I shall find a manner of delivering your grievances to His Majesty, to avoid similar problems in the future.”

Dimitri staved off any potentially horrified looks, with a gradual wave, and the one assurance he could give. “Without your f-words.”

______

(( 'f-words' being... yes... 'fear' and 'foolishness'. But I'm a dork, so I couldn't resist the chance. :lol:

Thanks, Alissa! Octavien's putting up quite a fight, I love it. He's gonna marry a hot Spanish babe, dammit! :Slap:

Now, as for Bella and Marie-Elisabeth... *ducks in Ghanima's hidey-hole*))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Lol, fair enough, Robyn. It's the battle of egos. Bella does need to be careful, though about how to behave with whom. Seiza, I do love the fact that Octavein's putting up such a fight, he makes good entertainment! Although, I know few men who'd put up a fight when forced to marry a hot Spanish girl.
As for Bella and Marie-Elisabeth, she surrendered the battle, but she's not one to give up on the war)


Bella was sure her father knew someone bearing that surname, but she decided to let it pass.
"Perhaps it was a brother of his, Comtesse," Bella gave the victory to Maire-Elisabeth with a gratuitous smile.
"Although, we never know," she added cautiously with a sly smile. Given the age difference between the Comtesse and her late husband, Bella felt the honesty between them was less than complete. "Men and their secrets."
Bella was done with that arc of conversation, it was time to progress things. She had to be careful about what she let on hereafter. There was no point pursuing the matter if the name did not incite any favourable connections, any more venturing into memories might bring past problems into the present and that was the last thing Bella wanted.
However, the news of the Princess was new indeed.
"My goodness, that recently?" Bella asked with surprise. "That is unfortunate, indeed. I assume she was taken with illness for some time? I had only recently heard of her marriage, a beautiful event by all accounts."
Bella was intrigued by the recent developments at court. She needed to get informed on things if she was to get anywhere.

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Seiza - 'Not a complete loss'?! Boy, I tell ya, they could have done FAR worse than Octavien. :lol: Plus, WE know she's hot, but HE doesn't. Yet.
And crap, here I was trying to make him sound wise beyond his years, and he ends up naive. :laugh: Seriously, I love this discussion between the two!

Ghanima - Oh, I'm quite sure she'll be able to hold her own, not matter how Octavien chooses to play it. I read the bio. ;) )))

[Seiza]

((Atropa: Ack! :laugh: *thwaps Dimitri* He's got the 17th-century version of the "everyone half my age is stupid" complex.

Well! Once Octavien learns of such Spanish hotness, Dimitri's expecting major sorry notes! (Er, until Elena unleashes her forces, of course. Then all the men will do what men do best-- leave Octavien to his fate.) Oh YES, I kept thinking, "actually, Edouard could totally do worse... starts with a S... sleeps around a lot..." :lol:

Alissa: Good on Bella! Love her snooping around. She might just climb over everyone's sordid romances and claim the prize. XDDD

[EDIT] Holy crap, César and Jo ARE enjoying themselves! :laugh:

[EDIT 2] Crap the second! Thanks FP, I'll make the corrections now.))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Ooooh, tsall so dramatic I don't know who to compliment...
And just FYI Larkin is the queen's uncle not brother. He's Juliet's husbands brother, so Isabella's uncle))
Larkin had escaped down the hallway, more to reacquaint himself with the palace than any dislike of the attention he was receiving. That is not to say that he was enjoying it- for the past fifteen years he had never seen more than fifty people at a time, and he had lived in a culturally backwards country on a continent good for little but trading purposes- but he had no doubts that he would quickly reacclimate himself to the patterns of court.

So, realizing that he might nto be making the best of impressiosn by disappearing, he wandered down the ahllway. He was fairly sure of where he was in the palace, but then again the whole place looked fantastically similar to him- luxurious floors that in Zimbabwe would be priceless wall hangings, carved and decorated walls and ceilings, the occasional alcove with a lovely statue, large meticulously detailed paintings... a very posh place, the Palace of Light and Air. Larkin neared the end of the hallway and saw a huge marble statue. He froze for a moment. Could it be...?

He walked over to the statue and glanced behind it. A wide grin crept onto his face as he remebered precisely where he was in the cavernous palace. There was a wooden door behind the statue and, with a bit of undignified wriggling larkin stood behind the statue and peeled it open. As he had suspected, this was one of the servant's stairways, hidden quite well in the palace's architecture, except taht the stair itself was plain wood, and the walls undressed stone. larkin was sorely tempted to go exploring, but he realized the foolishness of going in servants passages when dressed in full court attire and he had no establishment of power to excuse idiosyncrasy. Reluctantly he shut the door and turned around to go back to the main hall. Mayhaps Isabella would still be there and he could apologize for his hasty departure, and offer condolences.

Mayhaps. Then again, it had been nearly a decade and a half since he had been in France. So that worked out to 15 some years without speaking to a French woman. Which was something he would much like to remedy. Slightly amused by the direction his thoughts were taking, Larkin leisurely strolled back towards the main hall. "Time enough for all that later," he thought to himself.

((OOC: Approachable. Really. Poor Larkin's bored witless!))

[AtropaMandragora]

Oh YES, I kept thinking, "actually, Edouard could totally do worse... starts with a S... sleeps around a lot..." :lol:

You said it, not me! I made a point not to say it! :angel:
And "sorry notes" my butt! The boy is not superficial. Heck, knowing him, he'll probably think it was better if she had NOT been a looker, because then it would be even easier for him to dislike her.
...
Okay, I know that sounded somewhat contradictory, but think about it. One single redeeming quality, no matter how irrelevant, can often cause a crack in one's defences.

Not that I'm sure he WILL dislike her, but... Just thinking out loud here.

I think we're having too much fun with this. *glances as spammage* I promise I will stop now.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((Seiza - I know xD *glances at board rating* feel free to have your next post start with "20 minutes later" or something, Atropa (if César lasts 20 minutes? *ducks*)

Anyway I too will stop the spammage, I just wanted to mention I've been literally laughiung out loud over the conversation between Octavien and Dimitri, I feel so bad for Octavien and a young, honourable Princeling like him seems like such perfect prey for Elena, but we'll see how it all plays out :D He's no pushover, that's for sure!))

[Slytherin-Girl]

“Most men do have secrets, that much is certain” said Marie-Elisabeth, matching the sly smile with one of her own “But the names of acquaintances and friends are hardly anything I would say Charles kept secret. He always did like to go on about his great connections and many friends he met during the war against those vile English. There were always old soldiers and friends spending time at our homes, it was quite enjoyable”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled, remembering those many occasions. One of the fond memories she had of Charles was just how proud he had been of his military service. After their son had been born he would spend hours telling the young boy about "Whipping those dastardly English cowards until they ran home and hid behind their mother’s skirts”, while she just looked on bemusedly.

She nodded toward Bella again. ‘It probably was one of his brothers, all 3 of them have names that start with Cs, so they’re easy to confuse to those not well acquainted with the family”. That much was true, Marie-Elisabeth herself had difficulty keeping them straight and they were her brothers in law. Both Chadwick and Chauncey were rather unremarkable men, who not only looked similar but were both about as dull as dishwater.

Marie-Elisabeth frowned as she felt the same small piece of hair start to come loose again. Once again she reached up, this time firmly securing it under her hat, and resolved to have words with her hairdresser before the day was through.“And as for our poor Princess” she said, turning her attention back to Bella “From what I gathered, the illness was quite sudden. So sad to think she was such a pretty young girl will never walk these lovely halls again”.




(((OOC: That is EXACTLY what I was thinking about Dimitri. It's like he's thinking: Stupid kids don't know how to behave, and people like Marie-Elisabeth are thinking: Stupid old fogie spoiling all my fun.

And daaaang, if I was a guy I'd probably jump at the chance to marry a hot Spanish chick LOL. And since I'm not *goes off to pout and mutter about the stupid Spanish chick who gets to marry the hot prince....))))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Thanks Seiza, but first Bella needs to learn to curb her impulses. I wonder how that'll work out vs Marie-Elisabeth!
Ghanima: Wow, while everyone's running around arguing, Cesar and Jo are making up for the antagonism!
And yeah, it's only because Octavien has no idea what he's getting himself into... once he sees her, I'm sure all this rebellion would be ancient history)

"Well, I, for one, am thankful for the existance of the English," Bella said with a small laugh. "They make feel very grateful for being French!"

Indeed, Bella was French, but only when it suited her. Maire-Elisabeth seemed to harbour a strong dislike of the English in any situation.

"You know, we must find the answer to this mystery of mistaken identity sometime," Bella carried on. She decided there must be more to it, but then, it really wasn't the time or the place for it.

However, this news of the Princess seemed worthy of investigation at present. Marie-Elisabeth may have had more to say on the subject, but Bella had to gain her bearings first. Although, Marie-Elisabeth was absolute in the idea that the Princess had just come down with sudden illness.

"Yes," Bella agreed. "The loss of a beauty and of youth always is a tragedy. I cannot imagine the grief of the the King, Queen and Prince at losing a daughter and bride, so soon at that."

The conversation had died for now. It had enough death in it to be buried. Bella needed to make new acquaintances, while she was still new and a novelty.
"You must excuse me," she smiled at Marie-Elisabeth. "I believe I should discover what has been done with my belongings. It is a pleasure making your acquaintance, Comtesse, and I do hope to speak to you again soon."

She wandered down the corridor opening into the hallway and stopped at the sight of a man she knew was somehow connected to Juliet. She'd watched him and the Duchesse walk away together earlier in the courtyard. Bella positioned herself tactfully in his field of vision and gave a warm, welcoming smile to light up his gaze over her.

[i](OCC: Bella will be back to gossip with Marie-Elisabeth soon, she just needs to spread out her acquaintances at court a little first ;) )

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Alissa - Okay, I'm really not trying to go after you. Seriously, I'm not, but... Bella is, according to the bio, 19 years old, and Larkin has just returned from Africa after well over a decade... I doubt she would recognize him on sight...? Though feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, FurryPanda...)))

[FurryPanda]

(((ooc: Alissa - Okay, I'm really not trying to go after you. Seriously, I'm not, but... Bella is, according to the bio, 19 years old, and Larkin has just returned from Africa after well over a decade... I doubt she would recognize him on sight...? Though feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, FurryPanda...)))

((OOC: You're right... Although I ahve been a bit off too, saying he's been gone for a decade and a half when he's really, if you add it up, only been gone 13 years. Either way, she'd've been six then... and that doesn't work out...

Alissa it makes more sense that either she doesn't know him period, or has already heard of him from her short stay in the palace, or knows him by reputation. I swear, I'm not trying to nitpick, I was about to say the same thing as Atropa, he just beat me to it, lol))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Ghanima - Hmph, yeah, everyone feels sorry for Octavien but Dimitri. *lol* Nah, seriously, he doesn't want anyone to feel sorry for him. He just resents being treated like a lowly no-good servant, when the only reason why he's there for them to treat him like that in the first place, is because he gave up his future just to help the royal family, and Edouard's precious princess, save face. Of course, no one except him, Isabella and Mercy know that, but still he can't help but feel some gratitude is owed to him. ;)

slytherin - Oh how César would have loved to witness that little scene. Marie-Elisabeth would've scored more points with him for sure. Though I'm fairly sure that at the moment, he prefers his own score. *ahem* *whistles innocently*

FurryPanda - For the record, I'm a 'she'. I know I tend to RP male characters, but... They're just so much more fun for me! :D )))



Knowing well that the words to have come out of his mouth had been... provocative, to say the least - the number of people that would dare venture as far as to insinuate that their King was not only a fool or a coward, but a tyrant as well, and in the presence of one of said King's most trusted men too, were few indeed - Octavien was not quite sure what kind of reaction to expect from Duc d'Lorraine. Quite obviously, as the older man seemed to take a moment to contemplate his answer, it would not be the wide-eyed shock and disbelief of the young Prince's nerve to insult his father-in-law, nor would it be anger flaring in haughty offense on the King's behalf. Though when the Duc was concerned, that did not necessarily mean that the reaction to come would be any more pleasant.

Surprisingly, it seemed he actually saw beyond that first layer which one might have interpreted as nothing but impertinent disrespect, but rather took the time to view the Prince's words with cool and sober ojectivity; a sign that maybe, just maybe, he finally realized that Octavien was not a spoilt, indignant child seeking revenge for the wrongs he had been made to suffer by acting and speaking out of defiance, but a young man with a mind of his own, who could be quite useful, not only as a mere bargaining tool, but a real living, breathing, thinking asset, if they would only acknowledge him.

At the same time, the fact that the Duc did not immediately strike down his rebellious words, was an indication that somewhere deep down, despite his unsympathetic exterior, he did recognize Octavien's right to be upset.
And that, those two very things, were all that Octavien had wanted. Preferrably from the King himself, but if the Duc was all he would get, then the Duc would have to do. He did have the King's ear, after all.
Though only time would tell if Octavien's interpretation of the Duc's current silence had been correct. For all he knew, he could be far off the mark, and rather than understanding, Duc d'Lorraine could be merely looking for a way to end the discussion, after which he would go straight to the King and insist that the Prince was making himself far too difficult to have around.

"Our respective views of 'possession' notwithstanding, Your Highness," Dimitri finally said, "you are right — you are a man. Thus no matter how His Majesty may push you, I am confident you shall adapt accordingly."

At that, and for the first time during the entire encounter, the corners of Octavien's mouth tugged upwards. But not in something as pleasant as a smile, but in something as ambiguous as... a smirk.
It had just occured to him that neither Dimitri nor the King, had the slightest idea of the damage Octavien could cause, if pushed too far. What he had said about men that when pushed would adapt, had been true enough, but there was one detail he had failed to mention and that the Duc, by the sounds of it, failed to comprehend; men that when pushed would adapt, would often turn into men that when pushed too far, started pushing back.
The sad part was, Octavien's 'opponents' in this case, knew little of just what he had to push back with. And at the moment, his honor refused to let him enlighten them.

Nevertheless, it was still a comforting and rather empowering thought, in a situation were his standing was surely regarded as somewhat fragile. Hence, the smirk.

"A glimpse for you into the mind of His Majesty, Your Highness", Dimitri offered, in a sudden and unexpected moment of generosity. "This is simply his method. He rather likes mediation between himself and... everyone else. Among his lessons was not to give a man the liberty to choose at all, for there was always the chance he would choose not to submit. Nonetheless, I shall find a manner of delivering your grievances to His Majesty, to avoid similar problems in the future. Without your f-words."

Those last few words, on the other hand, managed quite well to bring a faint but fairly pleasant smile to the Prince's lips, and he inclined his head ever so slightly in recognition of Dimitri's promise. Whatever his intentions.

"I would appreciate it", he said.

But, as his tongue had already been unleashed, he couldn't help but to add, although still in that same soft, calm tone used when stating his previous observation;

"Though one would think it would be in His Majesty's best interest to know who submits out of their own free will, and who submits out of fear or coercion. Non? False-hearted support is a dangerous thing to rely on. One never does know when it will crumble, but when it does - for sooner or later, it will - one can be sure it will be at the worst possible time. Or are you now to tell me that in battle, those that choose to desert are not mainly those that are not serving willingly?"

Despite the somewhat amiable tone, one might've assumed he was once again allowing his razor tongue to run freely, had it not been that there now seemed to be a few grains of sincere curiousity seasoning his words. Much like he had said, a free man with the choice to take an interest and to learn, would have alot more interest to show, than a dog on a leash who had the lessons shoved down his throat.

However, as it seemed the Duc wanted to leave that part of the conversation behind, Octavien decided that rather than wait for an answer, he would continue, and thus graciously offer Dimitri the opportunity to view the question asked as a rhetorical one, one that did in fact not require an answer if he did not wish to give one, without making it all too obvious.

"This woman who is supposed to 'join' me", he said instead. "What can you tell me about her? Provided, of course, that I am entitled to such a question? Or would it be preferred that I be kept in the dark regarding that as well?


(((ooc: Fayre - Just realized I've completely failed to comment on what you said about Isabella and Edouard; it's perfectly fine. The only thing that jumps out at me, is the way Isabella has all of a sudden started revealing quite alot of her emotions, whereas before, when Shenan controlled her, she always, always hid everything behind her regal, placid mask. :) Just an observation. )))

[ElektraNatchios33]

Padme heard a chuckle from outside her door. Was the man who brought in her trunks watching her. She stared at the door momentarily, then looked down at her mother's blue robe. It was one of the few items she had left of her parents. [She had sold much of them to bribe the Baron to set her free. Padme still had about 1/6 of the money left from her parents inheritance, but it wasn't much.]

She heard a knock at her door, most likely from the Peeping Tom. It startled her, and she dropped the robe onto the floor, unfolding itself into a messy pile. She began to pick it up when the man spoke.

“Is there anything else, Mademoiselle? A maid will be here in a minute to unpack for ye.”

Padme stopped in her tracks. She had been unpacking herself. Suddenly it made sense to her, the man was laughing at her unpacking her things. She crossed to the door and cracked it open wide enough for him to see her face.

"No, but I thank you for asking."

Padme was unsure how to respond to people of a class lower than herself. She was used to responding to nobles. She closed the door and begun to re-pack her things.

((Seiza, you're welcome to have Rukov stay. Sorry if it seems if I'm a bit rusty.))

[Fayreview]

((Mmm Atropa I did notice that (well obviously I'm writing it) I'm putting it down to sadness, sickness and pregnancy... but she'll be gone soon.... so my bad RP skills wont be damaging the Isabella we all knew and loved.

Oh and I seem to have forgotten when afternoon is officially supposed to come so.... 36 hours!))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Sorry guys, fixed now, I'm kinda new to this. I changed it so that Bella recognised Larkin from when he walked off with Juliet earlier in the day. Would that be okay? Thanks for telling me, by the way, otherwise I'll never learn! :) )

[Seiza]

“Though one would think it would be in His Majesty's best interest to know who submits out of their own free will, and who submits out of fear or coercion. Non?...” Dimitri would have dismissed it as an attempt to get the last word in, if not for the kernel of sincerity changing Octavien’s tone entirely. It was a subtle shift, but not something he would miss.

Then, as if the question had merely been rhetoric—in which case, it really would have been an attempt to have the final say on the matter, which did not mesh with Dimitri’s gut instinct—the Prince finally, finally, moved on to matters of more immediate concern. ‘Entitled’ to the question? That had been the only one the Duc was hoping for!

…Not that he really had much to offer in terms of information.

Regardless, Dimitri methodically ticked off what he had analysed based on the scraps of information Edouard gave him. He spoke as plainly as if he were critiquing the breed of a pony or the balance of a new sword; for that was what marriages seemed to him. Business.

“As Grande of Spain, Duque Carlos is second only to the royal family. As his only daughter, Her Excellency will either be very spoilt or very fearsome. I hope you do not think me crude for speaking plainly, Your Highness, but by virtue of your bloodline, you are already at a disadvantage. But Her Excellency is also a foreigner, if not in rank then in country. I do not believe her mother survives, but should there be one, I suggest earning her favour as eagerly as her daughter’s. I would not underestimate the women of the country that produced Isabella of Castile.”

It was rather more direct than he wanted to be—he expected men who so willingly thrust themselves into this sordid world of politics, as Octavien had, to work such things out on their own. But the Prince requested information, and surely he did not expect a mundane recitation of the family lineage.

“His Majesty vaguely explained the family’s history to me, so I suspect Her Excellency may be… slightly advanced in age.” Dimitri paused. When he continued, it was almost as an afterthought, “She could be extremely unpleasant to the eye, which may explain why no Spanish lord has won her hand despite her father’s fortune; or immensely comely, that she deserves nothing less than royalty. Single daughters of powerful men usually are one extreme or the other.”

He did not place particular importance on the last, but the Duc would be remiss if he failed to prepare the young man for a beastly bride. He allowed a moment of silence to enter, before finally standing. Even without looking at the mantelpiece, the slanting sunlight behind the Prince told him significant time had passed. He did not have the habit of pretending to be busier than he really was—all he had to do, this morning, was to finish a letter—but neither had he expected to spend such time over this issue.

And, he suspected, the Prince would need some time to gather himself in case Edouard summoned him to meet the new arrivals.

By way of conclusion, Dimitri shrugged, “As you may guess, I know little about the Duque or his daughter. I may have permanently removed one of their relatives’ eyes, but all I can and have offered are suspicions.”

Firmly-grounded and extensively deliberated suspicions, granted... but still smoke in the air.

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Fayre - Oh hush, you know I didn't mean it like that! :) )))


Contrary to what most tended to believe, and thus also contrary to what his reputation said, César de la Valliére did not always speak frankly, or with subtle yet unmistakable sarcasm and irony. There were times when he would not only consider his words, but re-consider them as well, before he spoke, times when he knew that if he did not, he might end up causing harm to a person or a cause by speaking without choosing his words with the greatest care.

This very, very late morning in the temporary de la Valliére suite in the Palace of Light and Air, pinning his darling Joséphine to the bed following a session of playful bickering, was, surprisingly, one such time. The subject of a future son was a somewhat delicate matter, with the potential to turn the conversation far less lighthearted if handled carelessly. He knew the pressure married women in general were under, to produce a son, an heir. Joséphine, having given birth 'only' to two girls so far, was no exception, and César really didn't want to add to her burden and make her feel stressed, by nagging her. Lord knows his mother did quite enough of that already. And in all honesty, unlike most men, César was not obsessed with the idea. He liked it, yes. He did like the idea of a little boy (or several) running around, pulling pigtails and causing mischief, and eventually growing up to a man and pass on the family name. But if he and Joséphine would end up with daughters, and daughters only, he wouldn't love her any less for it, nor them. He would still be perfectly happy, and the duty of carrying on the family name, would just simply have to fall on the shoulders of his many cousins.

But, as he didn't know quite how successful he had been at conveying his feelings on the matter to Joséphine, nor how much damage the pointed remarks his mother kept sending her way had done, he thought it best to tread carefully, and thus was indeed very grateful that things this morning had taken the turns they had, landing husband and wife merrily and lovingly interlocked with one another on the bed.

"That was all? Mon dieu, all this mystery had me worried that something dire was the matter!"

Joséphine's response came as a small laugh, but did not prevent César from picking up on her brief, initial reaction, which had been somewhat more contemplative. Mostly because he had been expecting it. Luckily, it seemed his casual words along with the lighthearted mood they were both in had the desired effect, and she responded with the same gaiety, slipping both her arms around him in the process.

Though no sooner had they come to a rest behind his back, than one of them retreated, sliding down along his side and dropping to seize the one of his hands that had set out to... 'inspire' her, with nimble fingertips dancing gently over her belly, following the pattern of her lace robe.

"It is too early to tell," she smiled, guiding his hand a little lower, indicating that in time, he just might be able to feel another little one kicking from within her womb. "And as much as we both wish for a son, I do not want you to get your hopes up yet, but I'm more than a week late, César. That has rarely happened unless... I was with child."

But, despite her warning, it was already too late. The excited smile widening rapidly on César's lips gave him away in an instant, even though he shook his head in an attempt to assure her that he would indeed not get his hopes up until they had reason to be sure. Though in all fairness, it was not only hope and excitement that held his lips captive in that bright smile. There was also a small degree of relief, that he had not read far too much into a comment that had been nothing but a casual remark, thus giving Joséphine reason to suspect he was not completely sincere when claiming that a son was not the most important thing in the world to him.
Furthermore, his hopes did not limit themselves to the possibility of having a son either. The idea of a child, regardless of it's gender, was cause enough for César to be excited. Ever since the first time he held Adéle in his arms, feeling the all-encompassing, overwhelming joy only a proud father could, he had known he wanted more children. As many as possible. As long, of course, as Joséphine could cope, and the pregnancies didn't wear her down until she was no more than a ghost of her past self, like he had seen happen to so many other women. He didn't think he'd be able to bear it, to see her vivacity and her spirits fade like that. They were so much a part of what made her Joséphine; his beloved, darling Joséphine.

"Though I see no reason why we couldn't add to the odds, just in case", she added with a whisper, after sharing a slow, passionate kiss, and gave another soft laugh.

One that was cut short, when César claimed her lips in yet another kiss; his silent agreement that, yes, one could indeed never 'add to the odds' too much, but that he was more than willing to at least give it a try.

- - - - - -

A while and said try later, when they were resting in eachother's arm like so many times before, and relaxed silence was the only witness to the playful, slightly bemused exchange of caresses, César could have easily drifted off to sleep again, completely unconcerned by the increasingly late hour. But, caught in one of his moments of doting husband, quite possibly fuelled by Joséphine's yet-to-be-established pregnancy, he pulled her closer to him, and after planting a trail of soft kisses from her shoulder to her jaw, murmured in her ear;

"We should eat something. Shall we honor the other courtiers with our presence, or would you prefer a meal to be brough here?"



(((ooc: Okay, that was... sappy, and cheesy, I know. *lol* But don't blame me. Blame César. :D )))

[AtropaMandragora]

Sitting quietly by the window, still gingerly perched on the windowsill, as Duc d'Lorraine gave his lenghty account of what he did and did not know about Octavien's apparent bride-to-be, Octavien allowed his gaze to wander, to drift slowly from one corner of the room to the next, only occasionally landing on the Duc, before ending up turning his head and looking out the window behind him, observing the swarm of servants struggling to load and unload trunks and boxes from the number of carriages in the courtyard.

One might get the impression that he was barely listening, if at all. But one would be mistaken. He heard every single word the Duc said, listened for whatever might be useful, and mused to himself in the process.

"I do not believe her mother survives," Dimitri said, "but should there be one, I suggest earning her favour as eagerly as her daughter's. I would not underestimate the women of the country that produced Isabella of Castile."

Underestimating the young men of his own country, however, was something for which he seemed to have developed quite the talent, Octavien thought to himself. And, had the same bitterness that had ruled his thoughts for days not intruded on his thoughts once again, he might've even found it amusing how the only ones that seemed to recognize the many good qualities he did have, were the two women of whom all the rest seemed to be quite scared; the Queen, and quite possibly the Queen's mother, Juliet. Though Octavien wasn't sure on that one, but she didn't seem the type who would pretend to approve of someone when she did not.
But then again, neither had Duc d'Lorraine.

He said nothing, however, but instead simply kept listening, and waited for the reason behind this hurried marriage to be elaborated on.
It wasn't.
Doubting very much that the Duc would forget such a detail, Octavien knew it could only mean one of two things; either the Duc himself didn't know - doubtful - or they did indeed wish to keep Octavien in the dark.
Considering the recent turn of events, he hardly found it surprising. In fact, very little of what the Duc had to say about Her Excellency came as a surprise, with the only exception being what he had to say about the woman's age, and looks. 'Slightly advanced in age', was she? Knowing the Duc's way of expressing himself, that could mean anything from early twenties to, oh, late forties. However, the surprise was not that they wished him to marry a woman that by the sounds of it was older than him, but the fact that she was not already married. Not even widowed. That could indeed be cause for a bit of concern, for there was sure to be a reason, and it wasn't likely to be pleasant. Still, it didn't matter much. Octavien didn't intend to have a whole lot more to do with her than he'd had with Adalita. Though there would of course be the occasional exception of being obligated the share her bed. Hopefully, before long, she would become pregnant, and then he'd have it over and done with. Duty fulfilled.
The second thing to surprise him, was what the Duc had to say about her looks. Was he honestly trying to say that there had been no portrait sent, as was customary? Granted, painters these days, especially those hired to paint royalty and other wealthy people, had a tendency to... flatter their model by embellishing their assests, and diminishing their flaws and defects, sometimes even leaving them out altogether.
But still... A small portrait was still customary, and would have given some idea of what Her Exellency looked like.

Odd. Very odd indeed.

"As you may guess," Duc d'Lorraine concluded, after coming to his feet, "I know little about the Duque or his daughter. I may have permanently removed one of their relatives' eyes, but all I can and have offered are suspicions."

At that finalizing statement, Octavien slowly turned his head back to look at him. Was the old man trying to impress him, or make him think twice about mouthing off to him again? Why else would he feel the need to mention the removal of an eye, when it did nothing, even by his own admisision, to support anything of what he had said?

The young Prince was growing increasingly wary of the Duc. Very much so. For where during their first meeting, the man had been quite friendly and downright likable, he now excuded nothing but superior arrogance and patronization, sometimes even seeming to disapprove just for the sake of disapproving. Funny, how those compliments he had paid Octavien a mere few days ago - claiming that the Prince had 'profoundly' surpassed any expectations he'd had, and that he was the 'fine son' of a 'fine man' - all of a sudden seemed to be completely disregarded and forgotten. And as a man of Duc d'Lorraine's good name and reputation would hardly be as fickle as to change his mind for no other reason than a slightly flawed - slightly; far from terribly - public appearance, especially when knowing the lack of instructions given to the Prince to prepare him for such an appearance, that would indicate he had been playing games when first they had met.
Just like everyone else.

"Thank you", Octavien said, and then gave a dismissive wave while turning back to gaze out the window. "You are excused."

All the while thinking bitterly to himself; 'Now how's that for proper royal conduct?'.



(((ooc: There went the last little shred of trust he had to put in anyone but Isabella, César and Joséphine. :P )))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had learned early in life to hold her tongue. When you grew up with a mother who would criticize and praise you in the same breath you learned to keep silent about certain thoughts. Otherwise you’d find yourself in trouble and you did not want to be on Marie-Therese Normandie’s bad side.

So when Bella said she was grateful for the existence of the English, she didn’t say “Well tell that to all the French women who lost husbands in the Great War, you should be happy to be French regardless of those barbarians”. And when she went on to say that they should solve the mistaken identity problem, she bit back the urge to say “There is no mistaken identity problem you pretentious little twit, you’re just making this up. My husband would never have associated with anyone of lower birth than him. It was completely beneath him to do so”.

When the young woman excused herself to go look after her things, she had smiled politely and been greatly relieved. She had had about all she could stand of her, and been worried that even her infamous control would slip if she was forced to listen to Bella prattle on any longer about things she had no clue about.

Marie-Elisabeth sighed and decided to continue roaming the hallways, hoping the next person she ran into wouldn't be such a test of her patience.

(Totally approachable, I'm bored lol)

(((OOC: Awwwwwwww Jo and Cesar are so cute :) Dimitri poked someone's eye out? How charming :P And I can't wait to see his reaction to being dismissed!!!!!)))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin's quiet musings were interrupted when a young woman who had been walking down the hall in his direction blatantly stopped short and got out of the main thoroughfare of the hallway. Larkin was rather amused by that, it seemed he had a reputation preceding him. Not that he knew what that reputation might be, but the idea amused him.

He was about to nod politelya nd keep walking, possibluy find out where in this cavernous place he was to sleep, but the woman flashed a bright inviting smile, and it was quite obviously directed at him. Larkin reluctantly slowed down to greet her. On the one hand it would undoubtedly do him a world of good to talk to a few people of his own country on somewhat equal footing, and the woman was not sore on his eyes either, despite being easily half his age. On the other hand, she was easily half his age.

"Mademoiselle," he said softly, offering a small, but perfectly polite bow. He may have had no idea what her station was, and she his, maybe, but she could hardly get offended by a tiny lack of courtesy on his part. "And to whom do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

[Seiza]

Unless Octavien had the attention span of a gnat, which Dimitri sincerely doubted, he must have been noting most of what was being said; thus his lack of concentration did not trouble the Duc. If anything, it was precisely this sort of half-attention that was desired—feigned disinterest was far better than open fascination. It was an important act to preserve both sides of a system. Dimitri himself would spend half of his stewards’ reports surveying other paperwork, even if both knew he absorbed every single word being said.

As for the dismissal…

While he would have liked some statement by Octavien promising to speak with the King—how was he supposed to form any relationship with Edouard if each stayed in the other’s suite the whole time?—Dimitri was going to faithfully hope that the Prince would do so on his own.

Otherwise, it was quite fine.

However, the Duc came from a generation—indeed, typified it—who only corrected mistakes, not deliver constant praise.

He merely bowed at the Prince’s turned back, crisp footsteps bringing him to the exit. Unseen and unheard, the old manservant was already there, hands poised on the doorknobs. Dimitri stopped just at the exit, recalling Octavien’s earlier question. It was easy to think of it as purely rhetorical, but his own instinct disagreed violently, and he had been considering his answer even while attention shifted to the bride-to-be. Would it be a waste to bring it up again?

“As for desertions in war …” Well, in the end, an interesting question had been asked; he had reflected on the answer. Dimitri did not dismiss what he perceived as thoughtful questions. “I have seen men, loyal to the bone, desert their comrades. They were not bad men before they enlisted, and they remain good men in exile.”

He could understand, on a technical level, the reasons for desertion and men’s inherent weakness before such factors. He just hoped to be shot before showing such disloyalty himself.

“We have the liberty of studying each man in the hopes of discerning his fidelity, but a King has thousands under his care. It is fear, not love, which cements more allegiance on a greater scale. One may wish to root out the falsely loyal, but ultimately, men’s hearts are unknowable and uncertain.”

As the manservant opened the door, Dimitri quietly thanked Gilles, wished the Prince good day and exited the suite.

______

Doubting very much that the Duc would forget such a detail
((Atropa: !@#$... *giggles nervously* He wouldn't, but his absent-minded player would! Hmm... Oh well! :jig:

Tragic, huh? And here we thought they'd get along. The vagaries of life!

slytherin-girl: I must admit, the eyeball story is a blatant attempt to set up background for possible posts with Elena. And the idea of Dimitri receiving a preserved eyeball in the post a couple months later Amuses Me Greatly. My one-eyed Spanish nobleman is an odd one. >_>

No dramatic storming out at that dismissal, sadly. I'd need a more firebrand-type character for that ;) ))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Oooh, I don't think Dimitri is too happy with Octavien, who isn't too happy with the King... was the advice about Kings ruling with fear a mild threat? Atropa, Cesar is unbelievably cute!)

"Mademoiselle," the man bowed as he approached Bella, who stood receptively, sure she was being assessed. "And to whom do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

She was sure she'd seen him with Duchesse Juliet de Margoles in the courtyard, on very friendly terms. It would be very uncharacteristic of a Duchesse to associate with someone of lower rank and therefore this gentleman must be of at least equal rank, if not more. Either that or he held considerable favour or influence at this court. Bella was thoroughly interested in the station of the man as well as the man himself.

"Baroness Isabella Devine," Bella offered a small curtsey, smiling warmly. "And the pleasure is all mine."

[Seiza]

Rukov had feigned the simplest expression he could think of when the door cracked open, but hadn’t been prepared for the how little it opened. More than half of the girl’s face was hidden in shadow, and her voice was nothing like the thundering indignation one might expect from a noblewoman—or the haughty complaint that a servant needed to be sent immediately! or there would be hell to pay. It was simply quite soft.

But, perhaps, the most interesting was her speech. The short sentence was not crass, but its accent certainly pointed to one who had not spent her life among the upper classes.

Rukov’s interest just kept growing and growing—ironically, for someone who would probably matter little to his lord, if she was as poor as he suspected; his interest (and observations) should have been in the higher nobility—and remained so even when she closed the door in his face. He could still hear the odd sound through the door, assuming she hadn’t gotten the point and was continuing to unpack.

Ah well, her loss. It wouldn’t be his problem if the servants giggled behind her back when they arrived to find their work done for them.

He left the wing, only to find the palace entrance emptied of most of its arrivals. He had, somehow, managed to avoid most of the donkey work. Admittedly, it meant losing sight of most of the nobles, but he could track them down easily if needed...

Ah, but not all had left. Perhaps he would have more work to do, after all?

______

((Approachable to anyone in the area.

Alissa: It can be a threat if you so choose it to be. :twisted: *is smacked to stop being dramatic* But Dimitri was just answering the question. He's jaded(?) enough to recognise that it's impossible to find someone 100% loyal all the time. The best a monarch can do is rule and hope. Machiavelli's rule: if one cannot be feared and liked, then one should be feared instead of being liked.

At least in my head, he sounded, er... thoughtful? But it's totally up to Octavien to interpret.

I think Octavien's far angrier at Dimitri than vice versa at the moment. Dimitri doesn't care (or tells himself he doesn't) if Octavien hates his guts-- as long as he shapes up to be the Prince he ought to be (or Dimitri thinks he ought to be).

Hmm. Damn! This kind of thing needs to be in an RP post, not OOC. :lol:

Elektra: No problem, Rukov's still hanging around if Padme leaves her room fast enough. Oh, and I LOVE that she's poor. I know, sounds evil of me, but I read that a lot of nobles staying in Versailles were actually borderline bankrupt (or some such). 'Cause instead of being productive members of society, they took up half their days parading in expensive suits, like little peacocks. Padme isn't quite the same case, but she's poor! That's awesome!))

[Alissa888]

(OOC:
Seiza: Yeah, he probably was being thoughtful. Although, to Octavien (having risen from a nobody to Prince), who really should be familiar with The Prince, it might have seemed as if the King was indirectly threatening him into the marriage? In any case, forced marriage should be something he can wriggle out of, though he might regret it ;) )

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Seiza - Well, Octavien's mainly bitter because Dimitri did kind of praise him during their first meeting, and now he's giving him the impressions that everything he (Octavien) does is wrong. And he (Dimitri) doesn't even help him, he just judges him, when (to Octavien) it's plain to see that Octavien is pretty much left to fend for himself. Adalita's dead, Isabella's going away, and Edouard shows no interest in him whatsoever, except as a political pawn. And he knows royals shouldn't ask for help, so, basically, he's stuck between a rock and a hard place. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

And... you're right... This belong in an RP post. *shuts up and saves it all for later*)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Sorry to add to the OOC posts, but Seiza, I already got some ideas floating around in my mind concerning Elena and the potential relative whose eye was poked out by Dimitri :P Considering that Elena isn't exactly fond of her relatives -she thinks they're all usurpers out to get her money, and correct in a way lol - it should be interesting...and would give me a reason to say she is aware of who Dimitri is, if only by reputation ;)

Also wanted to say I probably won't be able to post till tomorrow, so if you want Cesar to make a head start feel free, Atropa.))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: FYI alissa, he was associating with Juliet, but it wasn't precisely freindly, they exchagned pleasantries and then he ran away. Tis fine though
Also, if any of this history with Bella's father seems really off from what you had in mind, say the word and I'll change it. I already did in fact... is baron ashton dead?))

Larkin was not the least bit surprised when the woman executed a perfectly elegant curtsy, and introduced herself. That was only polite. However, who she introduced herself as, well that was a surprise. "Baroness Isabella Devine, and the pleasure is all mine."

It was immediately apparent, judging by the warm smile that Baroness Devine gave, that either she had no idea who he was- hardly impossible- or that he was assuming too much. The Aurvilies barony was mostly engulfed by his eldest brother's duchy, except one border along the Garonne River. That had been, in Larkin's boyhood, held by one Baron Ashton Devine a rude, foolish lordling so far as Larkin was concerned. He charitably thought that that might have just been because Larkin was only 19 then. Time did not change the fact that his steward had been writing that the neighbor had had marauding peasants taking over grazing lands despite the steward's repeated requests for noble intervention, and that Baron Devine had on multiple occasions marched through Aurvilies as arrogant as could be, without asking leave of the steward, or larkin for the one year of overlap. He had received word that the man had gone abroad to furhter a business investment, and that his daughter, a silly thing by all accounts, had taken rule, and left the barony in a capable steward's hands. His own steward had been elated by that and written endlessly of the Devine steward's brilliance, especiallyw hen compared to his lord.

All of that flickered into Larkin's head in the time it took Baroness Isabella to rise from her curtsey. Then again, for all he knew Devine was a common name. Maybe she was just some noble from a foreign land, despite an impressive lack of accent. He decided that caution would be the best path to take- if this was Baron Ashton's daughter then he would need to exercise a good deal of restraint, but if it wasn't he had no idea what might be apt. So caution was the best option in all cases. "Devine, you said? Of the Devine barony, on the Garonne?"

Internally he laughed, caution oh yes. Tact? Hardly nescessary. He hoped that the girl would not be offended by him not offering his own name, but then again, she hadn't asked.

[Fayreview]

The Current residents of the Court all lined upon the Palace steps to watch as the much beloved Queen Isabella climbed into a carriage accompanied by her faithful servant Margaret and her firm and domineering mother. The mood was sombre, the Royal family was depleated, no Princess, no Queen, just a quiet King and a Prince who not all of them felt all that comfortable with. It was a dark time in the Palace of Light and Air, a time vaguely remeniscent of the death of Queen Susanne, certainly some of the faces had changed but the most notable were still the same, the King, the Duc d'Lorraine, the footmen and maids, even Juliet de Margoles was present once again. There was one missing figure, Mercy Venn, accomplise to the new Queen just as much as she had been to the old but not present as the new one disappeared from the court.

Mercy was visiting the new court accountant, the rather dirty, disgusting old man had been ousted from the court, and Mister Benedetti was much more favourable, she was requesting more money, it seemed the new man was more realistic about money than the later and she was careful to be courteous and bright, eventually it paid off she left the lower regions of the Palace smiling brightly 20,000 livres richer and headed to write a certain letter to change her life for the better.

((Ok it is now officially Afternoon I shall edit this post in the morning when I'm not sugar crashing. I'm kinda using Mercy here to remind you all you can get money and you can buy yourself a title, and you never know perhaps become the King's advisor.... *hints*))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Baron Ashton's missing, abroad. Bella doesn't actually know where he is, but that's the usual thing with the Baron. He'd write to her/spend most of his time with her whenever he was nearby, but that wasn't incredibly often. So, Bella resorted to keeping tabs on him, which fell through when he disappeared off the face of the Earth)

"Devine, you said? Of the Devine barony, on the Garonne?" the man had said.
Bella was a little taken aback by his knowledge of her family when everyone else here seemed to have no clue about it whatsoever. She needed to determine whether he knew of the Devine barony on good terms or on bad terms, seeing as things in that senario tend to linger at either extreme.
She could sense that it was the latter rather than the former, unfortunately. What had Daddy done to offend this man? [Baron Ashton, with all his business acumen, could be very disagreeable when he saw no advantages for himself. Bella decided to rely on her own charms rather than her father's. First things first, she needed to find out the circumstances under which this man knew her father.
Furthermore, he had not done her the courtesy by offering his name, which was a bad sign in itself. He needed prompting.
"You tease me with your familiarity with my family, sir," Bella gave a small girlish laugh before glancing up at him with slight inqusition. "And yet I am yet to hear your name?"

[AtropaMandragora]

With the Prince's mood gradually worsening over the past few days, it had clearly been just a matter of time before it all culminated. Having had a less than pleasant morning, with the less than joyous news of apparently and out of the blue suddenly being engaged once again, brought by the less than understanding Duc d'Lorraine, and then the less than happily anticipated departure of Isabella, it was no wonder that the afternoon - which, by the looks of it, would turn out less than pleasant as well - found the Prince a dark, brooding figure, sitting on the same windowsill as before, with his knees pulled up slightly and his arms loosely clasping them. Resting wearily against the stone wall of the little nook, was his head, with his eyes lacking their usual vivacious sparkle, and his face for once framed by his soft gossamer locks, as while during his dejected ponderings, he had absent-mindedly freed himself of that silk ribbon that usually tied them back.

Nearby, quietly going about his duties as to not disturb his young master, was Gilles. Once in a while, he would stop for a moment, and look up at Octavien, as though he was hoping to find that he had moved, or at least was doing something else than staring out the window. But after half an hour, all that had happened was that the young man had once raised his hand to trace the window frame with his fingers, before letting it return to clasp the other once again.
Finally, the older man simply could not stay silent any longer;

"Your Highness", he said, causing Octavien to at long last turn his head and look at him. "Your Highness, if I may be so bold..."

Octavien gave him a slightly impatient look.

"For Heaven's sake, Gilles, you know you can speak freely around me", he said, and then, thinking how it probably wasn't "proper" to allow a servant to speak freely without first asking for permission to do so, he added bitterly; "I don't have a stick shoved up my backside."

At that, Gilles cleared his throat, ever so slightly.

"Pardon my saying so, Your Highness, but... I believe you do."

Had he not had Octavien's full attention, that was a comment that ensured that he now did, as he could see the young man's eyes widen with surprise and disbelief that he, the ever correct and proper manservant, would talk to his master that way. Though unlike most masters, the reaction stopped at that, and did not transition into anger or even offense.

"You are viewing things far too grimly, Octavien", Gilles said, having decided that this was indeed one of those rare moments where he would take on the somewhat more fatherly tone he would use when Octavien's personal troubles were concerned. "And you are clearly not seeing the forest for all the trees."

Having been Octavien's servant and trusted confidant ever since Octavien was a little boy, Gilles knew him well, and thus did not need for Octavien to tell him what it was that weighed so heavily on his mind.

"Her Majesty has not gone away permanently", he said, and took the liberty of sitting down next to Octavien, where moments earlier the young man had made room for him by taking his feet down. "She will be back in due time, and even if you are re-married by then, it would not provide any obstacles we have not already overcome before. And in the meantime, try not to worry too much about the King, Duc d'Lorraine, and the other courtiers. You do have the support of many."

Pausing for a while, the older man seemed to momentarily loose himself in thought, forcing Octavien's questioning look to eventually transform into words.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

The sound of his voice made Gilles look up again, and he smiled vaguely in a way that was oddly apologetic and reassuring at the same time.

"You do have the support of many", he said. "The servants... talk. There are some among the courtiers who do not think as badly of you behind closed doors as they may have it seem while in public."
"But", he then continued in a firmer, more resolute voice. "You are not proving them right in doing so by cutting yourself off from everyone, and hiding in your suite, nor are you proving the others wrong. No one gets to know you this way, and thus no one can find or be reminded of the reasons to appreciate your qualities. One can not appreciate what one can not see."

After that stern yet encouraging statement, silence settled in the room once more, while the two of them allowed Octavien a couple of seconds to think and mull over what had just been said. One didn't have to be an expert to see that he took if not all, then at least most of it to heart.

"You are right, Gilles", he said slowly when finally he spoke. "You are absolutely right..."



(((ooc: The site's (http://www.crimson-tale.com/VipersNest/) been updated again. :D And PS! Is it only me getting the plug-in error?)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

César and Joséphine, at last leaving their suite

Sweet, utter bliss, and an all encompassing calm seeped through the recesses of Joséphine's psyche, conjuring a wide, sleepy grin to her lips curving just beneath two rosy cheeks. Awareness was slowly returning, bringing with it a feeling of fulfilment and, if there ever was proof of it, love. Joséphine felt it more acutely than ever when César's warm and so familiar body snuggled up next to her, partaking in a moment of post-tryst peacefulness. Like many other times, she felt she could have stayed that way for the rest of the day, refusing to allow any worry or sad thought to reach beyond the door of their suite.

"We should eat something.” César suggested, pulling her close and kissing the length of her neck. “Shall we honor the other courtiers with our presence, or would you prefer a meal to be brought here?"

A low, thoughtful hum resonated in the Marquise's throat and her eyelashes fluttered lazily; did they have to go so soon? One slender arm found its way across César's chest, almost protectively, followed by her cheek. Gazing petulantly at the sunlight showering the room with its brilliance, the Marquise was growing reluctantly aware of how late it was.

“We should go”, she said at last, patting César's belly and drawing herself into a sitting position on the bed. “Or I shall never be persuaded to dress today. Furthermore, if my suspicions are correct, I cannot neglect my meals.”

Dressing being in itself a rather laborious event, another hour would elapse before the Marquis and Marquise de la Vallière were ready to make their appearance among the courtiers. With one final kiss on her husband's lips, Joséphine clambered out of the bed and plunged both arms into a nearby water basin, splashing the clean water over her chest and face. Undergarments in place, the couple's maid was summoned to assist them with their garments and coiffures: Joséphine chose a light pink gown with plenty of lace at the hems and sleeves and several satin bows tracing the bodice, a colour which complemented her skintone nicely.

Arm in arm and conversing pleasantly, the couple exited the suite and joined the hustle and bustle of the Palace at noon.


((ooc: sorry, kinda short and not very elaborated, but I tomorrow I won't be home and didn't want to keep you waiting even longer.

Also, the site works perfectly for me. :) No errors here.))

[FurryPanda]

((AUGH! I had a long beautiful post all written out... and then my furshnuggener computer crashes! AUGH!

Alissa888- Assuming that I'm understanding what your complaint about my post is, I still think it makes sense given that hes gone. If ha regularaly goes away his steward would know what was expected, but then with him being gone an especially long time, nigh on being considered missing,t hen the steward would take his own initiative, hence larkin's steward's liking of him. However if you ahve something specifically you would like me to change, say the word and is done))

Larkin waited for the Baroness Devine to answer him, and kept his face glassy. It may not have been the most polite thing to do, but judging by the length of time it was taking her to decide how to answer him, something in his face had given away the general low regard he held her family in. He resolved to work on that in the near future, in Zimbabwe a misplaced facial expression would not even be noticed, expecially since all deals were done through an interpreter in another room, according to their custom, not any need- he spoke the language. Here, a badly timed smirk, an eyebrow raised at the wrong time, it could ruin him, and splinter Aurvilies into an insignificant speck on the map. Or even more of one, if he was to think fairly.

Then again, in a contest of poorly disguised body language, Bella had him beat hands down. It was abundatnly obvious she was mulling over the best way to deal with him, and that this was stymieing her slightly. His outer expression did not change at all, but he was experiencing a profound sense of relief. Crippling though an open face might be to him, reading others even if they were subtle would be a far more useful skill.

Finally, although it had probably only been ten seconds, Bella answered him, looking straight at Larkin, "You tease me with your familiarity with my family, sir." So she had finally gone with being elegant, to the point it was almost blunt. He had to concede it was done well, but she was not finished. She preceded to giggle sweetly, like a small child- what was the point of that?- and turn her frank gaze into a sultry one. She continued, "And yet I am yet to hear your name?"

Larkin, had let his face relax into cool distance at the first part of her statement, it was not brilliantly played, but fair. At that second part though, as her body language had gone from politicking to seductive, his mask flashed back on. Larkin would not have been surprised to hear an audible snap. More quickly than was nescessary, he replied, "I am L-larkin d'Marius, Baron d'Aurvilies."

His expression did not slip, but inside he screamed; why in god's name had he just stuttered? He was not some boy to be unmanned by a pretty face, and she was no one of consequence enough to have intimidated him any other way. He coolly waited for her reply, hoping she hadn't noticed his little stutter, and that any indiscretions he or his steward had committed on the girl's barony were forgotten or unknown. If not, he might well be in trouble.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: The site works fine for me too :) I should package up old Charles for it. In case, ya know, anyone needs a good ghost roaming around. Though I had to make him an adult initially and then boolprop him to an elder LOL

I'd make more of Marie-Elisabeth's family but.....well there's WAY to many of em XD)))

[Alissa888]

He was Baron d'Aurvilies. The friendly neighbourhood Baron. Her neighbouring Baron.

Oh, Lord.

Daddy had been especially lax when it came to neighbourhood relations. He frankly hadn't cared about what they had complained about. As a proof to that, there had been endless complaints. Endless. Relentless, in fact. It was not Bella's problem back then. Bella had cared little for anything that didn't affect her. Well, it was affecting her now.

No, she decided immediately. It won't affect me because I won't let it. I won't pay for Daddy's mistakes.

While this raged through her mind, Bella acted on instinct, letting her eyes speak for her as they wandered slowly over his face.

Larkin had stuttered when he'd introduced himself. He'd stuttered. That meant one of two things; he was either attracted to her or unsettled by her. He was a much older man, about twice her age. Bella could imagine he though of her as a silly little plaything, even if he was attracted to her. Especially if he was attracted to her. His being unsettled, however, meant things had gone very very wrong between her father and Larkin. Something needed to be fixed, starting with his awkwardness. Either way, Bella could make it work to her advantage.

She let time pass for a few seconds before answering him, in an attempt to futher emphasise Larkin's feelings to himself.

"Perhaps you have good reason to tease me, then," she said softly, titling her head to the side as her eyes flicked up to meet his. "The... illustrious Baron d'Aurvilies, in the flesh. It certainly is a pleasure."

Illustrious. She'd made it deliberately ambiguous, knowing any man would mull over such a description of himself. Fair enough, really, narcissism, as ugly as it was, was only natural.

[AtropaMandragora]

In spite of the fact that leaving the bed had, in a way, been his own suggestion, César took his time doing so. Had they been at home, he probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed at all, let alone made the suggestion. Especially since now he was, if possible, even more happy right where he was, than he had been just before Joséphine, unbeknownst to him, had guided those bright rays of sunlight right onto his face. He was relaxed to the point where his limbs felt as heavy as had they been carved from stone, and in his very veins, pure satisfaction seemed to be making it's way through his entire body, leaving him in a state of so very pleasant drowsiness.

But, they were not at home in their own mansion, and even though it would indeed have been possible to order the servants to bring something edible to the suite, he figured it really was time they did a bit of socializing, and got acquainted with the other courtiers. Having their presence known as nothing but faceless titles simply would not do. And while César had already met a few people, Joséphine had yet to do so. To his knowledge, she had only met with the Comtesse de Valois, and that was an encounter that although brief, had been a minor disaster. It was vital that she met others, because he so wanted her to make friends, and not enemies. And he certainly did not want her to make friends with the one woman he had intended to keep as far away from her as possible. Now there was a scenario that the words "minor disaster" would not even begin to describe...


As Joséphine went about getting ready, washing herself and making the first preparations of getting dressed, César settled for leisurely watching her, taking great pleasure in studying her slender form in it's current, undressed state. One could say it was somewhat of a favorite past time of his. Among other things.
He was aware, however, that he could not loiter about for much longer, lest she'd be made to wait for him, and considering it had been his words that had gotten her out of bed in the first place, it wouldn't be very nice of him, now would it? Thus, before long, he too left the bed, and continued to follow the example set by Joséphine, washing off by the nearby water basin and then moving on to the more time-consuming process of dressing. In his case, the colors chosen was an emerald green for the coat and matching breeches, and a rich creamy color for the vest. His auburn hair was neatly combed to stay out of his face, even though they all knew that in less than an hour, all such efforts would have been in vain, and his current look of elegant gentleman would once again have a hint of roguish prankster added to it.

Then, when both of them were finally ready, they left the suite together and headed for the Grand Dining Room, where they were served what to them was breakfast, but to the other few courtiers also in there, was lunch. All the while talking and laughing, sometimes even whispering, when their conversation turned either too personal to be heard by others, or too naughty to pass without exposing anyone that was listening by making their cheeks flush red. However, despite what one might think, judging by the blithe atmosphere between the two, not everything discussed was of a lighthearted nature. There was the occasional detour into more serious matters, such as the appalling lack of respect and fairness with which Octavien had been recieved the previous evening, and how it seemed like he was under far more pressure than he had ever experienced before. They had both seen him, after all, and as they both had known him for years, they couldn't help but to notice how he did not seem quite like his usual, easygoing self. Such a shame, it was. As was the fact that there really was not much they could do for him, except offer their support. Which was no easy thing to do, when he kept himself locked away most of the time.

Though by the time they finished their 'lunch', the conversation had once again taken a turn for the less somber, and they decided to make their way to the Red Salon, as they had overheard another couple discussing how some of the other courtiers had gathered there to socialize, and pass the chilly afternoon with pleasant conversation, card games and peaceful parlor games. To the Marquis and Marquise de la Valliére, it seemed like the opportune time to make a few acquaintances.

Even from a distance, they could hear music coming from the Red Salon, and they entered to find two young women - sisters, they learned once they were seated - entertaining their fellow courtiers by performing, in César's opinion, a rather dull song. One of them playing the harp situated in one of the corners of the salon, but both of them singing. In the same corner, there was also a violin, and a harpsichord, beautifully decorated with wood carvings. In a set of comfortable chairs in one of the opposite corners, a couple of older men had sat down to talk, each with a glass of cognac in their hand, and in the middle of the room, a couple of other courtiers - three men and two women - all of a younger generation, were playing cards. Though the ladies, apparently the wives of two of the men, were not playing the game as much as watching it, rather acting as support for their husbands, than opponents.
Never having been the shy type, César had soon seen to it that he was a part of the game as well, and unlike the other ladies, so was Joséphine. But only for a couple of rounds, for as soon as the two sisters finished their little performance, César glanced over at them as they left the corner of musical instruments, and then at Joséphine.
There was a certain instrument there that had given him an idea.

"Why don't you play something, Joséphine?" he suggested, and then, when she had looked up to see the subtle, telltale glimpse in his eyes, and agreed, but expressed that she was unsure of what to play, he added with an equally allusive smile; "Play that light, aerial piece... That fantaisie, that you always play at home, when we are entertaining? It's such a remarkable piece of music, I'm sure these lovely people would love to hear it."




(((ooc: Ok, I wouldn't say that these two are approachable, per se, but the others are more than welcome to join them in the Red Salon. :)

slytherin & Ghanima - Thanks guys. Must be just my computer then.

slytherin - I'm having the same problem with César and his mom. They're both adults. Oh, and, I'd love to add Charles to the site. :) )))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin saw that he was being kept waiting. He was quite thoroughly not used to being kept waiting, and he did not like it. Growing up the son of a Duc, even the youngest and thus most insignifcant son, did not teach a man patience. Nor did being ambassador to a country that was in naked fear of his country's army. The fact that Baroness Devine almost HAD to be intentionally keeping him waiting, was not improving his travel weary mood.

Despite the small amounts of anger this girl was causing, he did not stop observing. He attributed that to his political experience- one does not take one's eyes off a potential foe, and Baron Ashton's daughter was definitely a potential foe. Even if it was just because of inherited stupidity and close mindedness. Once he had introduced himself she had assumed a mask jsut as glassy as his own- a bit impressive that, most young courtiers did not have that rapid shift to a harmless expression mastered. Most courtiers, period, didn't have a non-glassy, completely harmless face. Heck, he didn't.

He saw that his interpretation of her skills was not nescessarily correct though, the glassy expression melted off quickly, leaving behind, if that was possible, an even more sultry gaze, that carefully -and admiringly- travelled over the planes of his face. His own expression didn't waver, except perhaps to glance a bit lower and to tighten his jaw slightly.

Strange- either she was completely unaware of the issues he and her father had had- unlikely, given how her face had blanked out, or she was completely unaware of how to deal with it.

"Perhaps you have good reason to tease me, then," she said softly, her head coming up to make eye contact. It was only by a titanic effort of will that his head did not jerk to make that eye contact stronger. He attempted to distance himself from the situation lest he do something stupid, what was happening? She was attempting- not without skill- to seduce him. That was the only conclusion Larkin could come to in his slightly befuddled state. The courtier in him distantly noted that this was probably a panic reaction on her part, but the blood pounding in his ears did not much care for the courtier.

"The... illustrious Baron d'Aurvilies, in the flesh. It certainly is a pleasure." she continued, enunciating "illustrious." That, more than anything snapped his reverie. Many things could be said about Aurvilies, and many more things could be said about its baron, but illustrious was not one of them. Larkin was a youngest son, and his barony- a hundred peasants, half of whom were not even farmers, attested to that. Indeed, if Aurvilies and the Devine barony were not neighbors, he doubted that Bella would have heard of him at all, queen's uncle or no.

Then again... he had been at sea for the better part of a season, and not had a woman for quite a while before then, as his... freinds... in Zimbabwe had been quite miffed by him leaving with nary a warning. That probably explained why Baroness Devine, Bella was having so profound an effect on him. A breif moment's consideration found no problems with accepting what she offered- if things went sour, who would be believed, the queen's uncle, the highly successful trade ambassador and Baron d'Aurvilies, or the young Baroness Devine who had little accomplishments to her name, a barony no wealthier than his own, and a father who Larkin had no doubt did not have much political clout to defend his daughter's honor with? Maybe that was it? A subtle revenge on that idiot Baron Devine?

Larkin decided it would be best not to think now about what precisely his motives were, merely that he had decided to encourage the Baroness in what she was doing. He let his mask dissipate slightly, revealing a self satisfied half smile, and letting a hint of desire slip into his eyes. With no more warning than that, he delicately grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on the back of it. Eyes smoldering very carefully, lest he spook his quarry, he said breathily over her hand, "Of course it is a pleasure Baroness, I do try my humble best. And of course in the flesh, how else might I be?" Larkin cocked an eyebrow and waited a full second before releasing Bella's hand.

A bit crude, but that would do. Now it was completely up to her what happened next- he figured either he would finally enjoy the company of a french woman after thirteen long years, or she would flee. He was perfectly content either way, there were plenty of serving maids in the palace, or the low quarters of the city, and he did need to find his rooms and send out some letters. Then again... no one would be offended if his letters were delayed a few moments.

((*giggle* gads, what a perv. Though for the record, women of that era in Europe did typically marry at ages 15-20, whilst men typically married for the first time anywhere between 20 and 50. So him being twice as old, for historical accuaracy, should not bother either of them too much. Just FYI, but then again she can be a bit grossed out by it, and he only is upset about her being so young because he thinks shes an idiot. ;p))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC Ver true FurryPanda, Marie-Elisabeth is a prime example of that.

And Fayre, I was just wondering if we're going to get updated maps/a characters list. I was trying to figure out who's eligible for advisor/ who's closest to being it and I started getting confused LOL)))

[Seiza]

The time between leaving the Prince and bidding farewell to the Queen was short, but Dimitri’s quill flew swiftly across his papers. The ink on the first page barely dried in time for the next. The marriage to the Lady Elena had removed that morning’s mental wall, spawning a frivolous letter about the weather and horses and bland observations about the political situation within and without France; but the thawing frost referred to the most recent events in the Palace, and general remarks about the English masked a few careful requests.

Then there was the farewell.

Many women stepped forward with well-wishes for the Queen, filling almost half of the accompanying carriages with their little gifts. Isabella, quiet and pale, received them as gracefully as always. Dimitri recognised in the eyes of the older courtiers what he himself was seeing: a re-enactment of the sombre farewell of the first Queen. Although one was significantly more alive than the other, the present mood rivalled the first in its sobriety.

As the last of the carriages disappeared through the gates, a light dampness hovered in the air. The assembled party returned to the Palace; heavier clouds gathered in their wake. Rukov, who had been helping with the departure, was sent off with the letters. Several courtiers lingered, surrounding the King with their own well-wishes, but the Prince was nowhere to be seen. Dimitri stayed in the back, in that moment everyone encountered of having too much to do but not knowing what to do with himself.

God seemed to decide for him; two fingers plucked at the sleeve of his coat with such certain familiarity, he did not even have the chance to feel indignant. The Marquise Florence de Magenta smiled back at him. Her lips curved sharply. “My dear Duc, don’t you look thoughtful!”

“It is a fitting expression if there ever was one, for thinking to oneself.”

“It’s a lonely pastime if there ever was one, thinking to oneself,” she countered, not thinking twice to grasp his unoffered arm. “None of that now, none of that! Her Majesty shall return shortly, and I’ll not have her return to a dour Court full of thinking-to-themselvers. Now, there’s a performance at…”

She was almost dragging him to the Red Salon. Rather than any noble intention to preserve the gaiety of the Court, Dimitri suspected it was so she would not have to enter alone.

He unwound himself from her iron grip, properly offering to escort her to her companions. Florence arranged a stray golden curl, unperturbed; but her smile softened minutely. Their first meeting had been so many Christmases ago. She was the sort of woman who outlived all her husbands—she was more than a decade Dimitri’s junior, but the current Marquis de Magenta was already her third. He never saw them together.

Dimitri supposed there were days when she, too, appreciated a gentlemanly gesture.

All he had time to realise, upon entering the Red Salon, was that the performance was over. Undaunted and boisterous, Florence immediately appeared at the side of a young lady—and, being attached to her via his arm, so did he. The card game seemed to have taken a short pause, the participants watching a certain young man and woman curiously.

The Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan.

Even if the chances of another meeting were high in this enclosed Palace, Dimitri nonetheless thought it amusing that it should happen so soon.

The Marquise—he recognised from their arrival—seemed on the verge of speaking, but was distracted by their arrival. As Florence chatted up a storm beside him, the Duc greeted the seated players simply, not wishing to intrude upon the Marquise’s conversation any further.


((Approachable, just walk up to him. Or catch his eye. Or something. XD

Anyone: Florence is a NPC so feel free to manipulate her how you want. I was thinking she might know César and Jo, being from the same rank. Maybe she's distantly related to one of César's "conquests" ;) Seriously, I left most of her unexplained; build up her background how you will, if you will, I'll go with the flow.))

______

((FP & Alissa: I dunno why, I keep thinking "OMG Bella's molesting him wif her eyeysss!!11!" :lol:

Atropa: I used to get the plug-in error (something about Quicktime needing to update, and if I forcibly closed the window, all my IE browsers would close along with it) but... not anymore. Now the page loads fine.

Ghanima: That's awesome. :D Can't wait to see what happens with our one-eyed Spaniard!))

[Fayreview]

((Slytherin Girl i'm sorry for being so slow, but with a bank holiday tomorrow you can be confident in the knowledge you will not have to wait too much longer.))

Charmaine de Mollier was tired, not physically or emotionally but simply of being quiet, it was not a particularly strong trait of hers. it was therefore with strong intentions she set out on a walk, trying to locate someone with whom she could share a conversation, someone who had some ease at speaking her own language, she prowled the ground floor of the Palace, but as she genmuinely seemed to find nought but slack-jawed lolly-gaggers and mere servants she chose to examine the public rooms of the court, it wass not the right time for a meal, so she decided on a salon, but when it came to chose between bleu or rouge she chose rouge because bleu sounded a bit.... bleh.

She had a footman open the door for her, and scanned the room, various people were scattered around, pretty young women with no doubt more money than brains, fine young looking gentleman and a man of a more respectable and advanced age whom she approached at a distance, before realising that he seemed familiar from a family party than Michael had dragged her too, she had been particularly dis-interested in that party as her brother Lord Simon was having a glorious party as well and it would have been a chance to gloat her new found fortune overher sisters and various other select family memebers particualry her italian cousin.

"Good day, dear Duke," Charmaine spoke in English and in an English accent and gave a mild smile to the the Duc d'Lorraine, Charmaine wondered if the man had the memory to remember her, after all they had only met once, and she believed she had spoken, for the most part, about gardening.

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Larkin is being a little pervy, but hey, Bella is asking for it. Plus, she does act like a complete idiot at times to see what people do. Poor Dimitri and Octavien, there's just no winning between the two of them! Oooh, revenge against the Baron. Hmm, you might actually achieve that more by teaming up with Bella - if you offer her the right incentive - rather than against. It's a dysfunctional family at the best of times ;) )


"Of course it is a pleasure Baroness, I do try my humble best. And of course in the flesh, how else might I be?" he'd breathed onto her hand before using his eyes to entice her.

The aloof Larkin had certainly become very interested in Bella at the drop of a hat, making her very wary.

Did he actually expect her to go weak at the knees? Seriously?

Bella had carefully controlled the degree of charm to use on Larkin to incite the response she wanted and this was slightly beyond what she required. The poor Baron had either been completely deprived of female company of late or he wanted to play a game of cat and mouse with her. Bella decided it was a mixture of both. Dear Larkin had failed to realise that Bella, though her father's daughter, was not Ashton.

His eyes spoke of badly hidden desire, not uncommon amongst men with young girls at attention. However, he was certainly unnerved by her lack of response for a few seconds after learning his name. Angry, even.

It was a good thing, Bella decided. Emotion, in most men, clouded the ability to think and she'd rather have Larkin emotionally driven than by thought. However, anger, whilst beneficial in it's mild form, was not desired in excess.
While all this flicked instantaneously through her mind as he rose from his gallant gesture, Bella resolved to switch a different tone with Larkin.

Baron d'Aurvilies. If Bella had done little to find information regarding the state of affairs at the court where she was arriving, she would not have known the relationship between Juliet - and indeed Queen Isabella and late Princess - and Larkin. However, Bella, being Bella, simply couldn't help herself.
She softly caught his lingering hand and looked into his eyes with a deep penetrating gaze.

"Please accept my condolences over the late Princess Adalita," Bella almost whispered tenderly, while her fingers traced slowly and delicately over course the palm of his hand from wrist to fingers where her hand released his. It was deliberate but sublte enough to linger in the mind as an enigma.
As soon as she'd released his hand, Bella stepped back slightly and glanced up at the Baron with inquisitive eyes, laced with admiration.

"I hear you have travelled the better part of the world?" Bella let the corners of her mouth turn up lightly as a small smile began to play over it. "Lived in Zimbabwe, in fact. How very... exotic."
"You must tell me all about it," Bella asked in what was almost a hushed voice, letting the smile play out fully over her face.

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Fay: I would much appreciate an updated charachter list/map, too... so confuzzling! So thanks for taking care of that!

Seiza: LOL. I don't think that either one of them is being molested, but LOL nonetheless. [caps said for the sake of caps, not because its an abbreviation]))

Larkin did not allow his warm, somewhat lecherous expression to slip, in its way it was just as much a mask as his glassy stare. Underneath of the somewhat revealing mask he was bringing himself to heel, by force if needed. The rational part of him was thoroughly amused, he had been close to taking advantage of a noblewoman, and had not been looking at any of the consequences of that, her comparitive lack of status or no. That rational part of his mind was warning him to leave now, before he did something stupid. Something else stupid, make that.

Faster than Larkin was nescessarily equipped to handle, Bella had caught his hand as it retreated from hers, and was tracing slow sensuous patterns over it. His mask did not slip, even though he would not deny that he was enjoying the situation very much. Bella most certaintly did not need to know that. The entire situation diffused itself quite nicely however, when she purred, "Please accept my condolences over the late Princess Adalita."

Well there was a mood breaker if ever he saw one! Lust... lust... dead step neice... and then expectation of more lust? Amusement won out over anything else, and he had to struggle not to laugh. Yes, Adalita's death had been sad, and yes, it had forced him to return to court much earlier than he had planned. However he hadn't seen the girl in person since she was six, and had been woefully unimpressed when he had. That may have had more to do with the fact that at 19 he had a rod up his ass towards anyone much different in age from him, but time had not deleted the impression to replace it with suitably paternal feelings. A rather poorly thought move on her part.

She released his hand and he snapped it down to his side with almost military precision. Having decided to stop teasing her he could not help but be alarmed by her continuing to do so, and it was difficult enough keeping already high levels of arousal down. The girl's words painted her as an idiot, but Larkin had never been opposed to finding a use for idiot women.

She stepped back slightly, and let her expression take on an admiring cast, complete with a small smile. "I hear you have travelled the better part of the world? Lived in Zimbabwe, in fact. How very... exotic."

The better part of the world? Hardly, Zimbabwe, Nigeria and France, and that was about it. Zimbabwe, exotic? Not after living there for more than a decade. Her skills at flirtation, so far as Larkin could see, left much to be desired. She started to walk off, and Larkin was relieved, even if he should be a bit offended that she had walked off with nary a farewell.

It seemed he had jumped to a wrong conclusion however, she merely turned so as to be walking around him, and purred, "You must tell me all about it." A much larger smile was developing on hr face, maybe it was even sincere, but Larkin wanted out and she had just given him a path to it. He couldn't resist taking the opportunity to possibly scare the child a little. Larkin d'Marius was an honorable man, and would not do anything very ethically repugnant, but then again, no one here knew anything about him, or so it seemed. He could use that to his advantage.

His eyes had followed her deliberate circling, and she stopped in front of him looking satisfied. She seemed to be expecting a reaction, a rise, something, and Larkin did not disappoint. He let his hand gently travel over the sleeve of her gown and the bit of exposed wrist there, and then said softly, "I'd be delighted to tell you all about it. Mayhaps I will look you up in your suite tonight... and we can discuss Zimbabwe... and other things." His hand trailed down her arm to kiss her hand again, and then he dropped it like a dead fish and turned around with nary another word to stride crisply away down the hall. He was still in earshot if she were to call after him.

[Alissa888]

"I'd be delighted to tell you all about it. Mayhaps I will look you up in your suite tonight... and we can discuss Zimbabwe... and other things."

What?! No. Seriously. What?! Bella was a little stunned - even worried - at Larkin's forwardness. He'd met her all of five minutes ago. Was this man usually this letcherous?

So, her attempts to change the tone by bringing up his neice had backfired, to say the least. Men. Larkin d'Marius, in particular.

Bella was frankly disgusted. Her shock had extended to a point where she hadn't realised when he'd picked up her hand and kissed it once again, before he retreated slowly away from her shocked form.

"I wouldn't flatter yourself, Baron," Bella scoffed quietly to herself as his form began to disappear down the hallway. Before Larkin could change his mind, she turned and walked briskly down the hallway towards the Court Accountant.

She finally found the room, after some mild searching. At the door, Bella brushed her dress down before knocking and then entering when prompted.
Bella walked softly across the room and sat down elegantly by the desk opposite the young accountant.
"Good afternoon," she smiled ernestly. "I trust you are well."
"Very well, thank you," he replied. "And yourself?"
"Quite alright, thank you," Bella answered. "All but a requirement of 20,000 livres, a problem with which I hope you could help me?"
She then sat in wait for the response, nervous as to what the outcome might be.



(OOC: All I have to say if light of that the weirdness between Bella and Larkin is :lol: )

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had been roaming the halls for quite some time and boredom was bginning to take its toll upon her. Certainly there were lovely works of art everywhere, and the sculptures alone were enough to keep one busy for days at a time, but there was only so much she could really take in at once.

So she decided to make her way to the Red Salon instead on continuing her roaming, having seen and heard several people planning on heading in that direction on her travels.

Stepping into the room she indeed found quite a few of the couriters in there already. Immediately she could see the Duc d'Lorraine standing with a blond woman and another brunette woman, who happened to be speaking English. Being about as fond of the English as she was of wearing mourning clothes, she started looking around at the other faces in the room.

Her gaze then landed on the Marquis and Marquise de la Valliére, and immediately flickered away. She really had no wish to repeat the awkwardness of last night, regardless of how bored she might have been. She knew quite well that the Marquise disliked her, and knew what those reasons were. Marie-Elisabeth didn't particularly care about earning the woman's dislike, she just prefered not to cause scenes where they weren't needed. After all, it was the Marquis's opinion that mattered.

She settled for walking by them towards the card tables, and joining one of the games in progress.




(((OOC: Approachable I figured why not come join the party :P I'm just roaming the halls anyway.
*snicker*Alissa, If she thinks that's naughty she should have heard Marie-Elisabeth and Cesar the other day. Now THAT was a most....amusing conversation.And yay to getting a map. I figured that Marie-Elisabeth was actually closest to getting the advisor spot, which made me laugh because it really just didn't seem right!!))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was able to find his suite by asking a servant who was walking by, and he was directed to a suite clear across the palace from where he was standing. A bit of a hike later- the palace was huge- he arrived and found all of his luggage neatly unpakced into the closets. The suite had an elegant writing desk, gloriously plushy carpet, and, what Larkin had been most looking forward to- a featherbed. He was not ungrateful to the Zimbabwens, but the fact of the matter was a wheat chaff stuffed matress could not compare to the sensuous delight of a feather bed.

Larkin flopped onto said matress and was quite content to stay there all afternoon, but the twin pulls of duty and confining court finery drew him to the writing desk where there was already a prepared bottle of ink, numerous writing implements and a stack of crisp blank parchment. The only bit of business he had of import was a letter to his steward, informing the man that relations with the Devine Barony might deteriorate if Bella decided to be snotty and so command her steward. He also told him that he had returned to France, so if any of his old clothing might still fit to have it sent, as his wardrobe was sadly lacking. Only two full outfits of court finery, and few other things he could wear elsewhere. He dripped red sealing wax onto the parchment and stamped it with the Aurvilies seal- a dog beneath a sheaf of wheat.

That taken care of, Larkin wandered out into the great hall, where apparently he had missed Juliet and Isabella's departure. He was not too upset by that, but he had hoped to at least seem the devoted uncle. He shrugged, it did not matter overmuch.

Wandering along he caught a few bars of music wafting from a large room, the red salon, if he remebered the layout of the palace correctly. There were several people playing cards, and Larkin shot a small smile and polite greetings at them before waiting for them to finish their game so as to deal him in. He didn't really recognize any of them, and the occasional detailed geneaologies his steward had provided did nothing to help matters. He had nowhere better to be, eventually someone would introduce themself, or call someone by name, or give him some such thing to go by.

((OOC: So he's Sitting with Marie-Elisabeth, and not at all adverse to chatting))

[Alissa888]

Hope there's space for one more!
Name: Christine Du Fontaine
Title: Duchesse D'Avingnon
Age: 20
Bio:
Christine is rather reserved, quiet and observant. Christine was brought up by a strict mother who cared little about anything other than money and society. From a young age, due to her lack of siblings, she was trained to be the best that she could be at anything - at any cost. However, while she grew more shrewd, sharp and diplomatic, she became cold and snobbish.
With the recent, tragic loss of her parents, she has become solely responsible for her fortune and therefore seeks to strengthen her position by becoming the King's advisor, knowing that she would be more than excellent at it.
She is intimidating, authoritative and ambitious to a frightening degree.
Picture:
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y84/Alissa888/Christine.jpg

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth was a very good card player. With such an extraordinary ability to keep her emotions in check, this was hardly a surprising fact. She had won a small fortune from her siblings before she had been married and after a while they had all refused to play with her.

As had most of Charles' freinds, after they had discovered how good she was. So when she sat down to play cards with the other people at the table, she had taken great pleasure in relieving them of most of their money. Of the 3 other players at the table, only two of them had decided to remain afterwards. The fourth, a woman Marie-Elisabeth suspected was about 3 times her age had shot her a snooty look and left. Marie-Elisabeth had giggled at that, having had all of said woman's money gathered in a pile with her gloved hand resting atop it.

She glanced around to see if there was anyone else interested in playing, as they needed a fourth to continue on. She spotted a man who had just entered the Salon and appeared to be looking for something to do. "Monsieur" she said, smiling and looking over at him "Would you like to join us? We need a fourth to keep playing".


(((OOC: Talking to Larkin :P )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Hey guys, I just got home, sorry to keep everyone in the Salon waiting for Josephine's reply :( I will have something written tomorrow morning, I'm dead tired now >.>))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Ghanima - No worries. :)

Also, everyone, I know there's stuff for César to respond to here, and I just want you guys to know I'm not ignoring it, I just want to give Ghanima a fair chance to reply, so that she doesn't get left behind. :) )))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Atropa, I'm acting under the assumption, and slytherin can correct me if I'm wrong, that marie elisabeth has been playing cards, larkin walks in and sits down [since he was waiting to be approached I wasn't specific in the OOC as to who he was sitting with {hence question mark}], and then Marie Elisabeth asks if he wants to join them. I think.))
Larkin was pleasantly surprised that almost as soon as he sat down one of the women at the table said, "Monsieur, Would you like to join us? We need a fourth to keep playing".

He returned her smile perfectly cheerfully and answered, "Mademoiselle, I'd be delighted to." She was the dealer, and gave him a hand of five cards, while everyone else still had thier prior hand, but he didn't comment. His English freind from Zimbabwe had taught him the game, but maybe it was just an English custom to deal in a circle as opposed to all in one go.

He had gotten a perfectly excellent hand- a full house, queens and jacks. How appropriate. Larkin knew full well that keeping a perfectly expressionless face was not a wise move when gambling, unfortunately he was not quite so accomplished a courtier as to keep an appropriate expression. So he usually overcompensated by overacting. Blatantly. And sincerely, as no one ever expected a person to be quite so honest when gambling.

So he shuffled his cards into a different order, paused dramatically and grinned widely and transparently. He dug into his pocket and took out a handful of money, and dropped it onto the table. Only then did he transparently seem to realize that the other's were watching his overacting and he snapped on a much blanker expression. "I'm in this hand," and then seperated out a few coins. "Fifty Livres."

He leaned back in the chair- no cushion, but still comfy- and watched his companions.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had been glad he decided to join their game. She was quite enjoying herself, due in so small part to the fact that she was all but robbing the other players blind. The game also provided a rather welcome distraction from the other distractions in the room, which she was rather pointedly trying to avoid looking at. There would be plenty of time for that later if she had her way. Right now she had a game to pay attention to.

“I’ll see that Monsieur” replied Marie-Elisabeth, carefully laying her cards down and picking up some of the coins from her pile. She reached out and dropped some of them on the small pile forming in the middle of the table. “But I’ll raise it just a little”. She took another 10 livres and put them down as well.

The other two gentlemen laid their cards down and bowed out of the round, professing that they would wait for the next round to preserve more of their money from being stolen away. She smirked at that, as it was true. They had a rather meager pile of coins left between them indeed. Other than the faint smirk, she kept her face perfectly expressionless, despite the extremely excellent hand she had.

“So Monsieur” she said, glancing across the table “ I haven't seen you before, you must be a new face around here. Are you going to tell us who you are or are we going to have to guess”?

[FurryPanda]

Larkin saw the other two players bow out of the game- two possibilities there. The Lady who was still in the game was either cheating or just good at cards, ro both men had particularly bad hands. He doubted the latter, or that she was cheating- very few men would be completely unaware of such a thing, and next to none would permit it to the point of their money being so low a stack as these men had.

However she had fallen for his ploy... somewhat. She met his bet, and raised, but only by a very modest amount: 10 livres. Conservative playing or suspicion? He couldn't tell.

The woman placed down her money, and then said “So Monsieur, I haven't seen you before, you must be a new face around here. Are you going to tell us who you are or are we going to have to guess?"

Larkin produced a smile for her and answered, "Baron Larkin d'Marius, at your service Mademoiselle." He doffed an imaginary cap, an English custom that had become the common greeting between equals in Zimbabwe, courtesy of the English ambassador. This woman was quite clearly not a fool, and so he had no objection to offering a greeting of equals. Then again, it was highly likely that she only knew the English version, which was fairly all purpose. Whichever way, it was a harmlessly polite greeting.

He glanced at the money that he had left from the paltry amount he usually carried on him, and picked up twenty livres. "I will meet, and 10livres is a perfectly fair raise." he said pleasantly.

((OOC: *giggle* hes asking for it...))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Here I go again, but; who's NOT in the Red Salon? :D I'm thinking of maybe sending Octavien out of his suite, but I don't want both my characters there. Padme is still in her suite, I know that much, but... Have I missed anyone?)))

[FurryPanda]

((Of everyone who has applied, the ones not there are: Mercy, Padme, Octavien, Bella, the Spanish lady and Christine [Alissa's second app]. ))

[Slytherin-Girl]

“And I am Marie-Elisabeth, Comtesse de Valois” she said with a polite nod, one hand holding her cards out in a fan and the other still resting over her pile of coins in front of her. She smiled across the table and dropped some more coins onto the pile “And I’m pleased to both make your acquaintance and match your wager”.

She glanced down at the cards in her hand and mentally smirked. Charlemagne, David, Caesar and Alexander all stared back at her from the small rectangles, along with a two that was really of no consequence. She felt particularly confident that she would win, but due to the chance of her opponent possibly having a straight she didn’t want to raise the stakes too high. At least she knew he couldn't possibly have a flush, but it was better to be safe than be the snotty woman who had left earlier with no money.

Marie-Elisabeth was also trying not to wrinkle her nose and scoff at his obviously English manners. While he was admittedly much more pleasant than the pretentious young woman she had met earlier, it still bothered her to be around someone so obviously Anglicized. “I take it from your mannerisms Baron d’Marius” she said, looking back up at him “That you have spent some time around the English. Is it not a great relief to be back among more civilized members of society?”



(((OOC: In case you couldn’t figure it out, she has 4 kings. Each of the four kings in a deck of cards represents a famous historical king, and it used to be common back then to have them depicted as such on the decks of cards)))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: sorting/ed))

Larkin was somewhat impressed to hear the woman introduce herself as the Comtesse de Valois. Valois was well away from his barony, but he had heard nothing but excellent things about the place's female regent for the deceased Comte's child son. He had also heard that the Comte had fought in a war. Against the British. Whose mannerism he had just so blithely employed. Dammit.

She dropped a few coins onto the mounded pile in the center of the table, enough to match, not raise, and continued, "And I’m pleased to both make your acquaintance and match your wager”.

Larkin was stuck- at least so far as the card game went. He could do a brazen show of confidence, possibly enticing her to fold, or he could fold himself, thus kissing off 70livres. Which, while not significant, was not paltry. Or he could just call and let his hand speak for him. Before he could decide one way or another, she asked pointedly, "I take it from your mannerisms Baron d’Marius that you have spent some time around the English. Is it not a great relief to be back among more civilized members of society?”

Oh yes. As if he would do anything but agree to a question like that. He shifted one or two cards around in his hand, and said, without looking up, "Oh undoubtedly Comtesse. How could it not be a relief to return to my own country, where my native tongue is spoken, and people are always so exactingly polite? It is indeed a joy to be in these civilized environs."

Then again, given how underdeveloped Zimbabwe was, in a choice between England and there, he would undoubtedly go to England. The people were, by hearsay, barbaric, but the few examples he had met had drawn Larkin to regard the entire nationality with nothing more than polite aloofness. Again, not something he needed to let the Comtesse de Valois know.

He decided to call on the hand; he had plenty of money, but then again her face had not given anything in the way of an indication that her hand was assailable. "I'm afraid my coffers are running a bit dry, I'll call." With that he lay his cards down, three queens and two jacks.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: The war was about...33 years ago I think. Charles didn't die in it, he fought in it when he was 20 something with Dimitri, the duc d'Lorraine (Who, I must add, was one of those silly young people he adores oh so much right now at the time *snicker). Marie-Elisabeth just doesn't like the English. Period :P

And as to the stats thing...uh......they started with all the cards again when a new player joined? LOL I'll go with that, because there's a good reason I'm a journalist: Math hurts my brain. And I'm off to work soon, so if I'm not too tired I'll post when I get home)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had to smirk then, and said "Well Baron, it does appear that the game is true to life this round. The great Kings have trumped everyone else." She grinned and placed the four kings down one by one, with the two trailing alongside them.

The other two men at the table let out relieved sighs, no doubt glad they hadn't bet against her. They then made their excuses and left the table. Marie-Elisabeth reached out and pulled her winnings in close to herself. Then she carefully started stacking the stray coins up in order to form a neat pile in front of her. As she did so, she glanced around the room at everyone, her gaze eventually resting on the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan. To her amusement he was looking directly at her as well. She smiled at him and nodded her head slightly in his direction before turning back to Larkin.

"It appears we've been deserted Monsieur" she said, stacking the last coin "Why don't you tell me about your time abroad? You must have some interesting stories to tell". She smiled over at him and started gathering up the other cards. "Or we could play something else if you like, I don't mind either way".



(((OOC: Don't think this is a double post...if so I'll edit my above one. And BLEAH all those years and years of French classes are coming back to haunt me......that's what I get for living up here LOL)))

[Fayreview]

Mercy walked through the court witha spring in her step it had started raining in deed it was raining so hard it looked almost as if it would never stop but still Mercy was drawn towards the large front doors, she sighed inwardly, thanks to the Court Accountant tomorrow would be a good day, she had so many new people to introduce herself to, and that made her feel a little bit reflective she was not in the mood, there were new women in the court and the new Voice-in-Court as Juliet had taken to calling him. An ambassador by all accounts and from Mercy's experience that was never a good profession for a man as so few of them had any self control, as Ambassador Flight could have shown you....

She was debating whether to venture out into the rain, when her thoughts started to drag up other men, she could already feel three descernable figures moving around her, her brother, her father, her son-in-law and her late husband. They spoke:

"Mercy, listen to me, he's not good enough for you he'll just drag you out there and make a fool of you."

"Sweetheart, if you wish to marry him I will support you, after all this can bring good things for our family, things the Venn family could use."

"Oh, yes protect her, that's the way to make her happy in case you haven't noticed she doesn't love you."

"Mercy, darling, you're a wonderful woman but things are expected from a man in my position."

They spoke and she shuddered, she stepped outside, the door still open she held them open the rain hitting the front of her dress, other men appeared behind her, this time more recent ones; Silvius, Octavien, Edouard and Dimitri.

These ones didn't speak they just moved a little closer to her, each gave a different Aura; sleaze, a hidden self, quiet worry, and warm safe and strong....

Mercy felt like moving away from the men but she knew they wouldn't leave her so she stood there, half dry and half wet, half in canle light and hlaf in moonlight and totally worried...

[Seiza]

First, the Marquise de Magenta surprised him in the main hall. Now, minutes after entering the Red Salon, a distinctively feminine and painfully English voice snuck up just as swiftly.

“Good day, dear Duke.”

She had not spoken loudly, yet she may as well have shot a gun in the middle of Mass. Several heads—perhaps not all, perhaps every single one—around the card table swerved to face the brunette of middling age. Even Florence’s chattering stumbled to a halt. It was hard to tell how many of them recognised her; they were young, but that didn’t mean they had never visited England or hobnobbed with its aristocracy. But clearly, most of them stared at her because she spoke English.

It was a few, only a few, minutes. Maybe even seconds. But the Duc had, along with them, stared in surprise.

Then he excused himself from the table and the Marquise de Magenta, in French, before leading the Englishwoman a few paces aside. There was little doubt that this was the Englishwoman whom Rukov had so excitedly spoken of. (Surely the Court was not so unlucky as to have more of their kind running about?) Dimitri’s mind pulled up file after file for a woman of the English variety who knew him and matched this one’s description; but to his growing, personal horror, his search was turning up empty.

Dimitri started speaking in French. But at a hint of—anger? Impatience? Wariness?—entering the woman’s eyes, he bit down and switched to English for her sake. “Pardon me, Mademoiselle… I do not believe we have met.”

But there was a small spark trying to blaze into recognition—her dress was adorned with flowery embroidery—something about tulips (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tulip_mania)…

The last time he remembered commenting about Netherland flora, of all the subjects furthest from his expertise, was at that excruciating “family gathering” many, many years ago. Dimitri had been neither family nor English, but the party was thrown by such an important personage that even the late Duc d’Mollier dragged himself all the way to England to attend.

As was the fate of younger men who served under important ones, Dimitri was dragged along. He spent most of his nights weighing how to put himself out of his misery: the tower, the bridge, death by boredom...

He was almost certain that he had the answer, but that party had been shoved into the very depths of his memory. He was also speaking passable English, but it was still not his favoured or most practiced tongue. And so Dimitri corrected himself, uncertainly.

“…Lady Mollier? Wife of Lord Michael de Mollier, sister of Lord Simon?”

_______

((Fay: I'm not sure when the party was, so if it's a bit more recent than I expected, just lemme know!

slytherin-girl: :lol: I'd wish Charles Sr. was alive, just so he could saunter into Court and reveal all the silly things Dimitri did under his watch! Sadly, the dead don't talk. D':

And because I'm a dork, I've tried to calculate Charles' age when Dimitri would have joined the war in 1644: assuming I placed it correctly, he would've been around 26 and Dimitri was 15.

Ghanima: No prob, no prob! *pats*))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Ugh sorry if this is convoluted and crappy, I hope it covers everything ok.))


Joséphine, César and Courtiers - the Red Salon

Joséphine and César found the Grand Dining room buzzing with laughter, voices and the incessant clattering of plates. A myriad of unfamiliar faces peregrinated themselves before the Marquise's eyes, fellow nobles who called the Palace their residence and whom she expected to acquaint herself over the following days, and weeks. Joséphine lacked much of her peers' love for socializing, preferring the company of her own private entourage – new environments however changed the entourage, and there were advantages to be found in new acquaintances. César was particularly apt at making them, unrestricted to the feminine sort either.

Seated at one of the many tables in the Grand Dining Room, Joséphine sampled the various delicious dishes on offer, the wafting aromas mingling in the air causing quite a stir in her appetite. Punctuated often by exchanged comments between herself and César, time went by unexpectedly fast, as it was often the case when one wished to stall it. An hour or so later, well satiated and in the mood for exploring, the Marquis and Marquise departed from the Dining Room, letting their steps be guided by the course of the hallway and enjoying the surprises that emerged in their path.

Such a one presented itself in the form of a pleasant, comfortable room filled with the sound of mingled voices and, rising sweetly above them, music. Glancing approvingly at eachother, César and Joséphine decided to join the courtiers there and were pleasantly surprised to discover that not only the Salon offered entertainment in a musical form, but also provided a number of cards tables and a supply of cognac. Enjoying the melody in her ears, Joséphine joined her husband and four other nobles – two men and two women – at one of the tables, ready to begin a game. The Marquise had never been a particular fan of card games, but as she rarely shrunk away from a challenge, the accepted the round, taking the opportunity to exchange names and pleasantries with their companions -who were neither too old and dull nor too young and brazen, glad to enjoy a moment of lofty socializing. Not long after however, music gave way to silence and the two women performing stood to their feet. Polite applause rewarded them, before fading away into a general hum of voices.
Not half a minute later, César turned to Joséphine with a proposition and a telltale gaze:

"Why don't you play something, Joséphine? Play that light, aerial piece... That fantaisie, that you always play at home, when we are entertaining? It's such a remarkable piece of music, I'm sure these lovely people would love to hear it."

A spark of apprehension shone in Joséphine's eyes, masked subtly behind a half-surprised smile and suspended silence: not a particularly demure woman by any standards, the Marquise did however experience a twinge of reluctance: the prospect of performing before an assembly of strangers at a Royal Court sent a somewhat uncomfortable chill down her spine.
In spite of that initial reaction, Joséphine did not miss César's silent message, contained so well in his eyes. She knew it well, his conspiring gaze, having seen him use it countless times before when he was about to put one of his sly ideas into practice. Coupled with the clear hint of “that fantasie you always play at home” and a recent conversation over Octavien, the Marquise thought she saw where he was heading with all of this. After all, had they not whispered ways of supporting their friend into eachother's ear only 30 minutes earlier?

Joséphine had a few favourite musical pieces she knew by heart and played often. In the company of visitors however – and Octavien being one of the most frequent ones – she enjoyed performing one of the Prince's own compositions, a piece written for the harpsichord to which she had approximated a few pleasant verses. They merged well together, the instrument and her voice, a combination which had made that particular fantasie into a favourite.

By then, the two other couples at their table were looking at her expectantly, awaiting a response. Joséphine glanced furtively between them and the harpsichord over at their right, knowing she had but moments to make a decision. Well...what could possibly go wrong? She had a solid knowledge of the instrument, a voice which people found pleasant to listen and the opportunity to score a few points in her friend's favour.

Even as Joséphine prepared a reply, several people began arriving, among which a man whom she recognized as Duc Dimitri d'Lorraine. At his side was a woman who spoke vivaciously, an amusing contrast with the Duc's quiet demeanour – Marquise Florence de Magenta, whom Joséphine happened to be aquainted with. What was even more interesting however was the fact that they approached their own table, exchanging nods and glances.

“I would be delighted to honour your request, mon cher.”, the Marquise smiled and rose to her feet. “Mon Duc, Marquise de Magenta “- she nodded in their general direction - “welcome. Please, make yourselves comfortable, and I hope you will enjoy the recital.”

Acutely aware of how many people were gathered in the room at the time, Joséphine left the table and directed her steps towards the far east side where the harpsichord and violin sat in silence. Heads turned her way, the general hum of conversation decreasing in intensity, anticipating the beginning of a new recital. From where she stood, the Marquise could encompass the entire Salon with her gaze, and caught a glimpse of a familiar flutter of blond curls, not far from the table she had just left. That served to steel her resolve – it was then or never.

“The composition I am about to play”, Joséphine began, folding away the notes left behind, “Is called Fantasia Harmonica in D major. Thank you, and I wish you all a pleasant audition.”

With that, the Marquise sat down before the harpsichord and, positioning her fingers over the keys she followed the dizzyingly fast patterns memory instructed, summoning those characteristically vivid notes that ascended and descended in an almost playful, daring manner. Octavien's composition was a bold, improvisational piece that one would have a difficult time fitting in one single musical form, as the name Fantasie suggested. It was comprised of rapid passages and almost melancholy, a frugal succession of surprising harmony. Joséphine's soprano voice both accompanied and supported the melody, in perfect unison with the rapid, skilled touches of her fingers upon the keys, testimony to the fact that the two had collaborated many times before to bring Octavien's Fantasie to life.

Some five minutes later, with a final pointed note that her voice held an instant longer, Joséphine's leaping hands came to a brusque halt, descending firmly on the keys, and silence fell once more.

[Fayreview]

((Ok, just a note, the spelling 'Duke' instead of 'Duc' is because she speaks in English.

Seiza the party is fine :)

And i hope you'll all forgive me for the shockingly bad posts recently I hope with my next one you'll see why.))

The Duke turned to her, he spoke first in French, but upon her look of mild dispair he stopped and spoke in her mother tongue.

“Pardon me, Mademoiselle… I do not believe we have met.”

Her right eyeborw arched, did he honestly not remember her? Lady de Mollier? He paused and searched his mind, she let him stumble on in silence, he gave her another look, was there some hint of recognition when he looked over her this time? She wasn't sure so she waited a little longer, her natural slight frown adorned her face.

“…Lady Mollier? Wife of Lord Michael de Mollier, sister of Lord Simon?”

Finally, well she supposed he met many great men and women, "yes, that would be correct, Duke Lorraine." Well if he could drop the de from de Mollier she could certainly afford the same liberty, "how have you been, it has been such a long time since we met." She asked as whislt his English was clearly not his most comfortable language she had yet to find anyone in the court who spoke it in a more favourable fashion, and therefore, the Duke d'Lorraine would have to do, so she gave him a pleasant smile, he was too much of a gentleman to desert a woman whom had engaged him in coversation, which was perfect for Charmaine.

[Alissa888]

Christine waited patiently while the ruckus outside began to organise itself into a party that could finally let her climb out of the carriage. In all honestly, she was cold and distant about the whole affair, but for her future as the King's advisor. She could stand to wait some more while she continued to plan things out in her mind.
First things first, she needed to have her suite arranged and her things unpacked. Then, she needed to get herself acquainted with important members of court.
Christine knew she had fierce competition for the position and she was ready for it. After all, all was fair in love and war.
The door finally opened, allowing her to free herself from the confinement of the carriage. Afternoon had begun to set in and yet the courtyard was teeming with life despite the rain pouring down violently at her feet. She glanced slightly at the men who'd begun to unload her cases and knew things would be done for her by the time she retired to her suite at night.
Now, however, was showtime.
Perhaps it wasn't the best time to make an appearance in court now that she was more or less drenched through. Her long dark hair hung in loose wet curls around her shoulders. The makeshift use her cloak as a sheild against the falling water had worked somewhat. Still, Christine did not like wasting time.
She wandered up to what seemed to be the social hub full of voices playing over each other. She read the sign above the door; La Salon Rouge. Christine lingered in the doorway momentarily, slowly pulling back the hood of her cloak before gliding into the collection of socialising nobles.

(OOC: Christine is approachable, just walk up to her etc. Thanks!)

______________________________________________________________
(OOC: Seeing as Christine is in the salon with everyone else, I figured I'd let Bella loose in the corridors. If anyone's out there :) please feel free to approach her)

Bella realised that her position in court was weak, if anything. Furthermore, if she did plan on getting anywhere in society, she had to move up the ladder. Added to that, if she planned on progressing forwards rather than backwards, she needed to rely on her own accomplishments rather than her father's reputation.

There was one major problem with that philosophy; Bella had no real accomplishments. The obstacle to the remedy of this situation was that she lacked the power to accomplish anything. This, however, could by rectified.
Bella, now 20,000 livres richer, was able and ready to buy her way up to Comtesse. Well, not until tomorrow morning, in any case.

(OOC: Okay, I hope I did that right, I couldn't find any instructions on how to buy a title, so I just RP'd it. Please let me know if I managed to get it wrong.
Slytherin-girl, lol, I know what you mean, I read the post in the other thread - priceless and of course, Cesar's morning-after-mode early in this thread. Also, I noticed ME's room is next to Bella. That should be pleasant....)

[Fayreview]

Roleplay Re-Formatting

New maps are up. There are some changes to the layouts on the Maps, but I hope you all understand.

Courtier Lists are up.

Money Lending has now changed. You can now have your application refused, granted in full or granted in part, so you may only recieve half the money asked for.

Offices are now Available business is now a part of the court, you ask the accountant and pay to open the business and aquire an office, in return you will recieve a daily profit, if you are commited to the roleplay in the end you'll make up your money and more.

Winning the game has changed any courtier can be granted the position, besides the Untouchables (and secondary characters of those RPers), regardless of title as long as they have access to the Rotherham Rooms and the De Mollier Offices. A character's title will however efefct how good your chance of appointment is however so they are by no means pointless.

Suggestions Larkin Larkin may now suggest to the King grants of access to the Rotherham Rooms for other Courtiers.

Suggestions Dimitri Dimitri may now suggest to the King grants of access to the De Mollier Offices for other Courtiers.

Rotherham rooms, access is a sign of the Trust of the Royal Family.

De Mollier Offices, access is a sign of Respect from the Royal Family.

The Prince is granted cursory access to the King for the sake of Roleplay realism, he is not in an advisory position just a Royal Family Member.

Some of these grants will be made tomorrow morning with the morning announcements to the untouchables and other characters who cannot be made the advisor.

[Slytherin-Girl]

slytherin-girl: :lol: I'd wish Charles Sr. was alive, just so he could saunter into Court and reveal all the silly things Dimitri did under his watch! Sadly, the dead don't talk. D':

And because I'm a dork, I've tried to calculate Charles' age when Dimitri would have joined the war in 1644: assuming I placed it correctly, he would've been around 26 and Dimitri was 15.
[/i]


Is it bad that I figured that as his age too? LOL *joins the dork club*

And you never know *grins* The dead don't talk but he might have told his wife some stories before he passed away. :haha:

[Seiza]

((OMFG WE HAF A CLOCK TOWER. SOMEONE MUST DIE AND HAUNT IT!! *PLOTZ*

And did I read that right? Charmaine is taking advantage of MY Duc’s gentlemanly manners? :rofl: Damn women, so crafty!

slytherin-girl: O-HO! *evil grin* I shall most definitely KIV that.

Alissa: Did Christine arrive before the Duc, since she wasn't dripping wet from the storm that was raging (the rain was mentioned in Fay's post with Mercy)? Or maybe she arrived during the storm, changed and arrived after Jo's recital? Either way, it will help if you specify when she arrived, to make it easier for others to respond to her. :) ))

______

It was hard to tell that she wore a frown, so naturally did it shape her powdered face. Then the Englishwoman smiled at his guess, and the difference became obvious. Sometimes one only noticed a thing when it was no longer there: he now remembered the frown and some of the woman who owned it. Her smile was certainly not the bright and bushy-tailed sort, but it was pleasant in its own way; maybe satisfied, perhaps grateful. This was almost like a step-by-step replay of his first meeting with Lady Mollier—the same uncertainty, same guessing, same standing apart from the crowd—and it brought back a disconcerting torrent of memories of the party itself.

He knew the cousin of the Duc d’Mollier married an English noblewoman. The old Advisor’s reaction to it had been mixed—apparently its advantages outweighed any complaints, for the wedding carried on. Dimitri assumed that Lady Mollier’s family was diplomatically important to the two countries.

Sadly, he could not remember if said cousin had been French himself. But they were living in England all this while. Perhaps that was the end of that.

“Yes, that would be correct, Duke Lorraine,” she answered, pausing as he greeted her properly. Her hand lowered, and she continued primly, “How have you been, it has been such a long time since we met.”

Before he replied, their attention was turned to the far east side. They found the Marquise Mont-de-Marsan taking centre stage, her hands flowing smoothly over the keys. Although a vicious storm pelted the windows of the Red Salon, the glass muted its worst commotion, and the rain cloaked the room’s inhabitants in their own collective sphere. In such a bubble, the instrument’s melody and the Marquise’s soprano accompaniment coalesced into a brilliant, resounding finish.

It was something so different, yet steeped in familiarity. Dimitri thought it was only him who did not recognise the piece, being horribly tone deaf for the most part. But the rest of the room did not know how to react either, waiting for the next to follow in something bordering eager anticipation. It did not take long for people to realise it was over, and vigorous applause streamed forth from every corner of the Red Salon.

It was, surely, an excellent debut for the Marquise into Court.

Blanketed by the thunderous weather and similarly enthusiastic applause, the doors opened, and a cloaked figure entered the salon. Dimitri would have paid it little attention if not for the translucent sheen covering the heavy fabric. The thought seemed so ludicrous that it almost thought himself wrong—but had this courtier, whoever it was, just come straight from the rain?

This abnormality immediately sounded his mental alarm.

But the figure—he could make out long dark hair, but it was the shape that pointed to it being female—did not seem in any hurry. It stood at the entrance, not rushing around for someone in charge. And, surely, if there was any trouble, wouldn’t the first person to find be the royal guard?

As the applause dwindled, the cloaked arrival appeared in no apparent trouble. In any case, Dimitri had his own problems to handle. He finished his applause, suggesting that they take a seat by the window. It was not very private: card tables and seats filled the salon; he recognised the Comtesse de Valois’ signature curls off to the side. But at least it would be cooler. It seemed he would have to stay—every English word was like a kick in the gut, but he could not abandon the woman, and he was curious why she was here.

Best to do it comfortably.

“I am fairly well, all things considered. The Princess would not wish us to linger on her death,” Dimitri continued in English, carefully. He did not know how much she knew; could she have come to give Edouard her condolences? “I apologise for not recognising my Lady immediately, the party was indeed quite long ago.” But he certainly wouldn’t leave her thinking she’d been forgotten completely, continuing meaningfully, “I hope your garden is doing well.”

Had he dared to give the lady advice on her garden? It would have been so embarrassing, so little did he know of horticulture. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d forced himself to forget the episode.

“What about you, Lady Mollier? I recall you declared that only the world’s end would have brought you to France.”

______

((Alissa: [EDIT] No prob! I'll change Dimitri's post a little to show that Christine just arrived. There's no way he'd NOT notice a half-drenched girl entering the Salon. :lol: ))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Jeez, I completely missed that *facepalm* thanks, Seiza! I corrected it so that she is actually - well, almost - drenched when she walks into the salon - I was going to have her use an umbrella, but the history of it was just convoluted.... they did have umbrella's by the way, if anyone wants to know. Men just didn't want to use them because it was essentially women's fashion accessory. Sorry, spam)

[Fayreview]

((Naturally the Juliet, Charmaine mentions is NOT the queen's mother, i just happened to have drawn up a family tree for the Queen after this Character's whole family were planned and inadvertantly used the name in both.))

Before the Duke had a chance to give any reply to her the rooms attention was commanded, by some young woman whom was unkown to her but seemly not so to the rest of the room, she played some terrible song that was as of an unknown to Charmaine as she herself. She however did not mention it, she simply waited for the attention seeking to cease and her companion to talk once more, being a Lady, despite her dislike of the song and its conductor she applauded with a bright smile.

He apologised for not have recognised her earlier which she was pleased about and made a gardening reference. Followed by questioning her presense in France.

"My garden remains in a good state of health, thankfully my little sister, Juliet, is at home keeping a watch over things whilst I took a much needed trip away, I must say I have enjoyed it more than the trip on which I met my husband. As for what brings me here, my husband took a hunting trip up in Scotland with my Brother and Brother-in-law. So I decided to try and find the more enjoyable side of his homeland."

Charmaine was a unusual addition to the Palace of Light and Air as she actually had nothing to hide, nothing that was excpet the less desirable decide of her character.

[funheart00]

Heyy guys!

I'm really sorry about dissappearing so suddenly *s*

I've been in and out of hospital for a couple of weeks and then recovering. Nothing too serious luckily, appendicitis, but I haven't been able to get on to here at all, which has, sadly, been one of the things I've actually been looking forward to xP (As by now is obvious by now ... funheart = no life). :stick:

I'll try and get a post up at some stage tonight I think I'll have to think of a family issue Roseline has had to run off to, but I think I've got a bit of reading to do first, I've missed a bit :(

Anywaays .. boo! And, I'm off too get writing :comp:

Niamh

[Fayreview]

((Your back! Yay! *Has urge to throw parade* It's nice to know nothing is seriously wrong :) I'll edit the maps soon and have Roseline's suite issued to her once again, can you please repost your application in the new thread for me funheart? As you have probably noticed with shenan gone, I'm now hosting and I feel it'll be easier for new comers if we are all in one place.))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: funheart - I said it in PM, but I'll say it here as well; YEY! :D)))


Perhaps it had been unfair an inconsiderate of him, to suggest that Joséphine would make herself the center of attention by playing something? And by doing it infront of everyone, too, thus not leaving her much choice, as any refusal, no matter how eloquent, could be percieved as insecurity rearing it's ugly head. But thoughtless or no, César couldn't help it. A plan had formed in his head, born from the events the previous night, and the conversation he and Joséphine had had about it just a little while ago. And he was so very proud of her. She had a talent for playing the harpsichord and for singing, that would put most other women to shame, and he couldn't help but to want others to see it as well. Some would call it boasting, perhaps, but so what? What was the harm, when one really had something to boast about? It wasn't as though it was unjustified, now was it?
Not when the majority of the courtiers present sat listening in admiring silence, unlike earlier, when the two sisters had been performing and the others had merrily prattled on and on. He could see it on their faces, when he allowed his gaze to wander the room. They were enjoying the recital, very much.

Being what he was - a man with a tendency to appreciate the beauty of women - he also took the opportunity of Joséphine's turned back to seek out a certain someone whom he had seen enter earlier, but made as much of an effort to avoid, as she herself had made to avoid him in turn. The young blonde that had piqued his interest, not with beauty alone, but with a quite frisky personality to match. Comtesse de Valois. However, as they had both made a point of avoiding eye contact, achieving it now proved somewhat difficult, and it took a few casual glances before their gazes finally locked over the tables and the shoulder of Marie-Elisabeth's opponent. And once they did, it was only for the briefest of moments, no longer than it took for her to offer a faint smile and for him to quirk a suggestive brow. Then the moment had passed. Marie-Elisabeth's attention returned to the game she was playing (both of them), and César's returned to Joséphine. She had just finished playing and within a few seconds, once the last note had faded away, the room erupted in applause.

But, that was all. The question César had anticipated would follow, did not.
Imbeciles! They all enjoyed the performance alright, but no one bothered to ask who was the composer, even though it was clear to see that no one knew. What lack of social competence! No wonder they didn't have the manners to show proper courtesy towards their Prince last night! They obviously didn't know how!

Though no matter how annoyed he was with them, César still managed to keep a straight face, and welcomed Joséphine back to the table by taking a few steps towards her as she approached, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips, all the while donning a content smile, and eyes beaming with pride.

"Mon Dieu, I do believe you improve perfection itself every time", he said, and then gave her a light kiss on the lips as well.

It was only then, that one of the men at their table, who had risen along with the rest to praise the young Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, had an epiphany;

"It was a marvelous recital indeed", he complimented Joséphine. "I've never heard such a voice before, nor such a musical piece. Tell me, is it your own?"



(((ooc: Ghanima - Hope that works for you? If you had other plans, let me know, and I'll change it.)))

[Alissa888]

Christine peeled off the cloak from her shoulders to find that her person was not greatly affected by the rain at all; the cloak had faithfully taken most of the abuse. Still, Christine didn't mind the rain. She simply placed the cloak by the stand, mentally noting that she would soon have to make her way to her chambers in order to change clothes.

The majority of her was dry, however, save for her hair and hands. The strands of hair had begun to adhere to the cold skin of her chest, peeling away reluctantly as she pried them off with little concern over the matter.

Christine glanced up to review the room and all it's inhabitants. A man and a woman stood speaking to each other intimately while another small group sat by a table apparently playing cards. Her eyes eventually wandered to meet those of a man who'd watched her odd entrance into the salon. He sat with a woman whose back was turned to her, embroiled in conversation. Christine simply gave him a brief ambiguous smile of acknowledgement before continuing to walk into the salon.

(OOC: Lol, thanks Seiza. I know Dimitri went back to his conversation with Charmaine after Christine stumbled in from the rain, but I thought she'd at least smile at nobles to avoid getting off on the wrong foot. Approachable.)

[Ghanima Atreides]

César, Joséphine and the rest - the Red Salon

Throughout the duration of her performance, little else but the task at hand had intruded into Joséphine's concentration, so hellbent was she on getting every note right, every sound as smooth as she could. It wasn't every day that she played before a royal court, and even fewer occasions when that happened to be the first time she did so. She had the natural ease that came with practice on her side, but the the environment provided many reasons for anxiety: several dozen pairs of eyes and ears all centred on her, some awaiting entertainment while others no doubt looking for an amusing failure. A lady of high society herself, the Marquise was well aware of the less pleasant thoughts that lured beneath those benign, smiling faces.

After some five minutes, which somehow felt much longer to Joséphine, it was over. Reviewing it swiftly in her mind, the young Marquise figured all had sounded as good as it ever would, played by her fingers and sung by her lips. Her senses were rapidly returning, informing her of a rampant round of applause which came from the audience as well as the heavy rainstorm assailing the windows. Cheeks flushed with excitement and feeling oddly weightless, Joséphine got to her feet as gracefully as she could manage considering the wobble in her knees. Inhaling deeply she flowed up and down in a flurry of pink fabric, a token of gratitude for the ovations received, privately far more grateful for the fact that she could finally leave the stage and rejoin César and their companions at the table.

"Mon Dieu, I do believe you improve perfection itself every time", her husband said and kissed her knuckles as well as her lips; Joséphine's frantic pulse was beginning to slow down to a normal rate. She spread smiles and thank you's to those who approached to congratulate her, for the first time feeling something nearing pride. It had gone well, as good as anyone could expect it to. For certain, if she gazed beyond the immediate picture, a few of the courtiers held something other than admiration in their glances -no doubt thinking her vain and attention-seeking, or were just plain envious – but that was to be expected. Determined not to let those few spoil her boosted mood, Joséphine turned her head away from them and back at their table.

"It was a marvellous recital indeed", one of the men sitting next to her said. "I've never heard such a voice before, nor such a musical piece. Tell me, is it your own?"

Focused on delivering a good performance, Joséphine had all but forgotten the hidden reason for it. She blinked twice as she recollected her thoughts; he had been the only one to ask, which meant it was perhaps her only opportunity to bring hers and César's small plan to fruition.

“You do me great honour, Comte,” she replied. “I am pleased you've found it to your liking. I cannot take credit for the composition of the piece however; that belongs entirely to our Prince, Octavien Lahance. Music is perhaps one of his Majesty's lesser known talents, but I am confident that, given time, each of them will make themselves known.”

It was hint, of the subtlest kind should one be perceptive enough to grasp it: it spoke clearly in Octavien's favour, and of his many skills that the Court so stubbornly refused to acknowledge, or allow the young Prince to prove he had them. At the same time, one could not make it out to be more than polite praising of the composer who had earned it.

((ooc: It was perfect, Atropa :) Since I won't be home tomorrow again, I wanted to get this reply in. Feel free to speak to Jo, I'll reply asap.))

[AtropaMandragora]

With high noon having both come and gone, the sun had now begun it's slow descent. Accompanying it, was Prince Octavien. Though while one was descending the cloudy, rainy winter sky, the other was merely descending the polished marble steps connecting the upper, royal floor, with the ground one. Evening was still a few good hours away, and after recieving that not-so-gentle push by Gilles, Octavien had decided to make the remainder of the day count for something. Deep down, he was a friendly and open young man, who loved to socialize, and he'd be damned if he would allow that to change just because of a few, albeit sizeable set backs.

Reaching the ground floor, he stopped for a moment, looking around the almost intimidatingly large Palace entrance with it's connecting hallways, realizing that for some reason, it all seemed rather deserted. There were, of course, people there; servants going about their various chores, and a few courtiers milling about. But it was still considerably more quiet than usual.
The reason, it would seem, was that there appeared to be some event going on in the Red Salon. The sound of laughter and the soft murmur of a multitude of voices drifting from the open doors, made it sound as though the majority of the nobles in this court had gathered there to pass the time, doing what most courtiers did best; enjoy themselves.

Octavien started making his way over there, but came to a slow halt after only a few steps. His eyes had landed on the doors leading into the Grand Ballroom, and it was as though they were pulling him towards them, enticing him with fragmented memories of events that were so recent, yet lately had felt so very, very distant. Memories of the masquerade ball. If the forest encounter with Isabella had created the path of his future, the... encounter at the night of the ball was what had set everything in motion to follow it.

He simply couldn't resist stealing a moment to himself in there, to reminisce, to linger for a while in the memories of that carefree evening, and to draw strength from it.
For strength, it would seem, he would need in abudance.

Starting again, firm and purposeful steps carried him over to the doors to the Grand Ballroom, and he pushed them open without another moment of hesitation. Despite their considerable size, they only gave a soft moan as they drifted apart, granting him access to the once light and festively decorated ballroom, now hardly even dimly lit by the sun that struggled to pierce through the dark and heavy clouds outside. Though it mattered little to Octavien, as the room itself conjured the memories of what it had looked like then, as he slowly loitered along the walls, viewing the various paintings hanging there, but hardly seeing them at all. His mind was elsewhere.


(((ooc: Approachable. :) )))

[Alissa888]

Bella turned at the sound of heavy doors being pried open. It was a soft sound, but the closeness of it source to where she was alerted her to it. She knew all the other courtiers were elsewhere now, sheltering from the raging storm in a social hub somewhere. She'd chosen not to join them in order to see to a more pressing matters. Now, however, Bella was at a loss of things to do and there really was no-one around to find. Thus, the sound was a welcome distraction.

The light from the window fell over her, distorted by the water at flowed down the panes, becoming an accomplished art of their own. They seemed intent on branching out into as many rivulets as they possibly could achieve. In almost a mocking fashion, the question of whether or not to venture near it ran briefly across Bella's mind in one single stroke. She was alone, watching the storm and in all honesty, bored. On the other hand, she was alone. Bella decided there was no harm in indulging in simple curiosity every once in a while.

She stepped away slowly from the window, pushing against the sill softly to allow her light form to turn to the direction of the sound. She glanced back fleetingly through the glass, at the sight that had provided a constant source of entertainment, allowing her to lapse into a river of though as she absently watched the pouring rain and relentless winds. Bella began to walk leisurely towards the source, letting her fingers interlace, weaving in and out of each other as she wondered who she was just about to meet. Her curiosity led her to the Grand Ballroom, where Bella stepped back momentarily to admire the effort and attention that had been lavished onto the intricate carvings bestowed upon the grand wooden doors.

They were heavy indeed, as Bella discovered uoon exertion to push them open. The room inside was beautiful, to say the least, grand and decorated, yet deserted but for a lone figure of a man stood almost at one with the walls. It was a darkly lit room, somehow turning all it's glorious beauty into something haunting. Bella turned her attentions to the man who currently occupied it. His blond hair was tied back with a ribbon, revealing a youthful face leading to a lean form emphasising, and yet somewhat uncomfortable in, grand regal attire.

"Forgive me for my intrusion," Bella called politely, her voice drifting in delicately through the vast space of the room. She'd taken to employing caution, just in case she'd trampled upon some poor soul's time of solace. Given her encounters with Marie-Elisabeth and Larkin, she wasn't up to taking any chances. "I was simply curious at finding another wandering soul as myself. I am Baroness Isabella Devine."

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was rather dismayed- but impressed- when Marie Elisabeth laid out a full hand of kings. She grinned and said, "Well Baron, it does appear that the game is true to life this round. The great Kings have trumped everyone else."

He gave a grudging nod and neatly stacked his cards and set them aside. She, meanwhile, was delicately picking up the money from the table- his 70, and whatever the other two gentleman had anted. They made thier excuses and departed, giving Larkin no small cause for amusement. This was the court of France! Who cared about a few livres here and there? Larkin most assuredly did not, but he was not quite so thriftless as to plan to request another game.

The Comtesse had finished organizing her money and taken back the cards, to shuffle them back into the deck. Obviously they weren't playing again- it was the height of rudeness to start on a fresh deck with no reason or warning. Or maybe just another English custom he didn't differentiate between. It was probably going to be a bit difficult that the only gambling customs he knew were English. She confirmed that it was a matter of custom- at least he hoped it was custom and she was not intentionally being rude- when she said, "It appears we've been deserted Monsieur. Why don't you tell me about your time abroad? You must have some interesting stories to tell. Or we could play something else if you like, I don't mind either way".

He gave a polite smile and was about to speak a bit of the landscape in Zimbabwe- nearly every anecdote that popped into his head was not fit for mixed company, nor for ears that might not be appreciative of witty foreigners. Other than the English ambassador, the Portugese one had been amusing, and the Spanish one was... noteworthy. Then again, though no one had informed him of poor relations between France and Spain or Portugal, that was no reason to assume there were none. Just before he was about to affectionately describe a coastal village with imported orange trees, a woman from another table got up and walked over onto a small dais on the other side of the room. It had several instruments on it and the woman seated herself near the harpsichord and proceeded to play some enchanting peace, complete with vocal song. Larkin, having not heard any properly performed music from his homeland in years, was thoroughly impressed and much pleased to listen raptly, even at the expense of his companion. He didn't recognize the peice, but then again, he had been gone for 13 years.

Once the perfectly elegant peice had petered off, Larkin applauded politely and turned back to Marie-Elisabeth. Meticulous courtesy was probably the best way to go now, given that he had effectively been ignoring her for the past five minutes. "Apologies Mademoiselle, it has been a while since I've had the pleasure of listening to proper music, on proper instruments. I've been in Zimbabwe for, oh it must be thirteen years. Music was nice enough, I suppose, but it does not compare with anything French. Anything at all."

He gave a small grin to her, Larkin felt he'd handled that well. Answered her original question and pretty effectively explained his long silence after her question- if not perfectly honestly. He had been listening to and much enjoying the music, but while doing so he had prepared several carefully edited tales of the African continent, perfectly appropriate for any company, and much less dull than the insipid coastline with oranges he had originally had.

((OOC: Sorry that that took so long, my computer is leading an organized insurrection, complete with fire cannons. Don't ask. Is under control now. And highly exagerated in the first place))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Just for the record; Octavien has always been a snappy dresser. Family's been untitled, but very, very, wealthy nontheless. And he's grown up hanging out with nobles, so... Yeah. Lavish attire doesn't bother him.
I'm not critisizing, I'm merely commenting. You are free to have Bella percieve him any way you'd like. And, I do suppose recent events have made him somewhat uncomfortable, in general, so it still works. *nod*)))


Faint notes of music were ringing distantly in his ears, a waltz long forgotten by others, but dearly remembered by him. He recalled every word spoken, ever step taken, and most of all, every look and every touch given. Their eyes had always been his and Isabella's number one weapon against people that tended to put their noses where they didn't belong, a part of the facade hiding their true thoughts and feelings to anyone but themselves, and at the same time, part of their ever enticing game of subtleties. He remembered how on the evening of the ball, his boldness in pursuing Isabella, had been suddenly been matched by her own, as she had invited him to navigate the maze with her. Both of them knowing it had just been an excuse to talk in private, away from all prying eyes.
His main concern then, had been not to step out of line with her, not take liberties larger than she was willing to grant him, and not offend her.
How very ironic that all seemed now...

"Forgive me for my intrusion."

The sudden sound of a voice, the soft call of a woman, instantly shattered the scenes of an evening passed that were playing out in Octavien's mind, and caused him to flinch slightly with surprise. He had been so deep in thought, he hadn't even heard the doors open once again. In fact, he hadn't even heard them close in the first place.

Turning from looking at the painting on the wall where he was standing, his eyes gaze landed on a young woman, a beautiful brunette with big doe eyes, looking right back at him.

"I was simply curious at finding another wandering soul as myself", she said apologetically, before moving on to introduce herself; "I am Baroness Isabella Devine."

Isabella...?
For a moment, Octavien's brows furrowed in slight confusion, as though he thought he'd heard her wrong, that he was imagining things. Was she teasing him?
No... How could she be? No one at court knew of the relationship between him and Isabella, except Gilles. And, of course, Baroness Flight. But Gilles would rather suffer death, or a fate worse than death, than speak even one syllable of betrayal. And Baroness Flight... Deceitful and treacherous though she may be, Octavien still doubted she would go back on her word, and reveal the secret she had promised to keep. She seemed to be a woman of her word.
But then again, he'd been wrong before...

However, looking at the young woman, this... Isabella Devine, there was indeed nothing impish about her, at the moment at least, and so it seemed that she was being perfectly sincere.

Furthermore, as he didn't recognize her, it would seem that she was among the new arrivals. It would explain why she seemed unaware of who he was. Not that his looks were somehow widely known through paintings or the like, but most of the courtiers currently at court had attended the wed... his wedding, and thus would consequently recognize him as the groom. And those that had arrived after the wedding had taken place, would have most likely been in the Blue Salon the previous evening, where his identity had hardly remained a mystery either.

"No need to apologize, Baroness", he greeted her, offering a small but soft smile in return, deciding that a friendly start would hopefully be a good start. "I did not come here seeking solitude. You are interrupting nothing."

Having said that, he inclined his head ever so slightly while introducing himself in turn;

"Octavien Lahance", he said, purposefully leaving out his title, just to see if the name would ring a bell.

If it did, a title would be unnecessary, and if it didn't; unwanted. If she didn't know he was the Prince and he made a point to inform her, he would only risk embarrassing her, and any chance of having a somewhat normal conversation for once, would be ruined. Besides, pretending not to register someone else's mistakes in situations such as this one, was simply the most gracious thing to do.



(((ooc: Sorry if it's messy and weird. Dead tired. :/ )))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had found her attention stolen by the performance as well, so she didn’t mind the fact that Larkin’s appeared to be as well. She had to admit, though grudgingly, that the Marquise’s playing was excellent.

Music had never been one of her strong suits. She may as well have been trying to play the instruments with her feet for all the success she had at it. Piano, harp, violin, there wasn't an instrument that hadn;t suffered from her attempts at making music. Card playing she could do easily. Painting…well she was miles away from someone like DaVinci. But she was good enough. Dancing was probably her greatest talent, even more so than gambling. She had often been complimented on it and her graceful walk that was a natural result of such skills. Even her mother had called her into service to perform dances at the weddings of her siblings. But music continued to prove elusive to her, and she enjoyed listening to those who had the talent to do it.

“Quite allright” she said, turning back to Larkin and gesturing in the Marquise’s direction “She appears to be quite the talented musician, I understand the distraction”. Then she quirked an eyebrow and looked at him inquisitively. “Zimbabwe? Really? Well of all the places to be, you ended up in one of the only ones that could beat the English in terms of barbarianism. How on earth did you end up there?”

(((OOC: Tis ok, I understand how annoying computers can be :P )))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was relieved to note that Marie-Elisabeth had been just as entranced by the music as he was. “She appears to be quite the talented musician, I understand the distraction”. she said cheerfully. Awkwardness thus excused, Larkin was prepared to attempt to find out who the musician was, and possibly inquire as to the song she had played, or music in general from his absence.

Alas an intellectual and probably useful discussion of music was forestalled when she asked, “Zimbabwe? Really? Well of all the places to be, you ended up in one of the only ones that could beat the English in terms of barbarianism. How on earth did you end up there?”

Larkin smiled pleasantly, if he could not find out anything useful himself he could put his own information out- pleasant though the total anonymity he had at court was, it probably was not prudent to maintain it. Then again judging that after less than a day was also not wise. He decided not to think about it, there was no polite way to evade the question or good reason to try. "My interest in my barony was a bit slim once I inherited it, so I wound up as trade ambassador to Zimbabwe. Undoubtedly a barbaric place, but nice enough once you get over the language difference. Quite jarring, it makes English sound attractive, if that's even possible!"

((OOC: Bleh, that was lame, couldn't think of anything else to say though. And I am off for the night.))

[Seiza]

Whether a woman hailed from the Continent or not, the same nuances peppered all their words, which a husband only ignored to his detriment; but that other men remained blissfully unaware of. Lady Mollier took it to a whole new level—Dimitri was fairly certain of how she felt about her husband’s hunting trip, for her tone was spiced generously with disapproval. It was not a mistake made by a youngling; she simply didn’t care to hide it.

Her candid answer was, itself, very interesting. If the Duc d’Mollier had been alive, he may have ordered Dimitri to dig further into her husband-wife relations.

But the old Advisor—bless him—was dead and silent, and Dimitri would not throw himself into that most sordid abyss. He focused on a safer, more useful topic: her trip and her family.

“In terms of the weather, my Lady picked an appropriate time to visit.” The storm raging outside was almost ironic in lieu of his words. His gaze would travel occassionally to the window, wondering if Rukov had reached the town in time. “Most days are becoming more pleasant, since winter is almost at an end. I believe the first operas open with spring.”

Someone finally arrived with the cognac, the entire room having come to a stop before the Marquise’s performance. He could hear murmured congratulations being given behind him, as well as Florence’s recognisable voice bombarding the Marquise for details. The Marquise de Magenta was a connoisseur of many arts. If she could be this animated by the performance, it meant the recital had indeed been different, unexpected, but interesting.

If Lady Mollier showed any interest in opera, perhaps he could introduce them.

“Did you arrive alone?” Dimitri continued. It seemed rather disturbing for the noblewoman to travel so far alone. Surely a sister should have accompanied her, or a brother… “Your brother… my apologies, is that not Lord Simon?”

______

((Alissa: If Christine's bold enough, she can try to enter Dimitri and Charmaine's conversation, since she noticed that he noticed her. :) Am leaving the option open since, if I'm correct, everyone in the salon is engaged in conversation in some way.))

[Slytherin-Girl]

“Quite jarring, it makes English sound attractive, if that's even possible”

Marie-Elisabeth laughed at that, looking at him incredulously. “Makes English sound attractive? My goodness, it must be a greater relief than I thought to be back here. Though it must be interesting to visit such an…exotic place”.

She then reached up and started fiddling with her locket with one of her hands, the other still resting on the table. “My son is always talking about wanting to go off to exotic places and fight great battles like his father. But I keep telling him he’s got to at least wait until his age reaches double digits before he goes charging off to war”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled and glanced around the room briefly, wanting to see if César happened to be looking in her direction again. She really was enjoying this interesting little game they were playing, even if the playing of it had been less direct than she would have preferred as of late. But he wasn’t looking at her, so she turned back to Larkin. It had occurred to her that she hadn’t even told him who the she was that had performed, and despite being on less than pleasant terms with said Marquise it was only polite to do so.

“Where are my manners, I forgot to give you the name of the lovely harpsichordist” she said, gesturing over to where Joséphine was standing. “That’s Joséphine de la Vallière, the Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan. She’s standing just over there with her husband César, the Marquis”.



(((OOC: Don't worry Furry, sounded fine to me. Mine's probably just as bleah LOL)))

[Fayreview]

“In terms of the weather, my Lady picked an appropriate time to visit.” The storm raging outside was almost ironic in lieu of his words. His gaze would travel occassionally to the window, wondering if Rukov had reached the town in time. “Most days are becoming more pleasant, since winter is almost at an end. I believe the first operas open with spring.”

"Actually I shall admit to quite enjoying weather like this, and if one was feeling particularly poetic one could say that spring is opening with the first opera." Charmaine waved a hand to indicate the weather was the opera, and smiled, she truely did like storms, so strong and distructive but in the end leaving us all calm and contemplative, which was a truely nice feeling to have as long as nothing you owned had beeen destroyed. She doubted the Duke however shared these feelings he seemed far too cool and calaculating to think of anything but damage control, however being a man that was his area of expertise.

“Did you arrive alone?” Dimitri continued. It seemed rather disturbing for the noblewoman to travel so far alone. Surely a sister should have accompanied her, or a brother… “Your brother… my apologies, is that not Lord Simon?”

Charmiane thoguht hard before answering the man made a sensible point as had the others who had brought it up, they had eben few but she now knew she should have been travelling with an accomplise. "Alas i did, my dear younger sister is with child and so is not travelling, hense she is watching over my house, my husband is in scotland." She said this with a little less disapproval this time, her anger was ebbing. "I have not seen my elder sister in sometime," and as for her brother, the irritatingly good Lord Simon... what was his reason for leaving his second sister to wonder the continent alone? "and my dear brother would never desert the family house, after all he may be needed and so Lord Venn remains at home also."

((Hehe, I thought it may have been a little obvious to be honest, but really the only person the family was ever discussed with was Baroness Taylor :P))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Ah, that's all good then. Frankly, I thought he felt uncomfortable because of Dimitri and the King pressing him into the marriage with Elena. I mean, he was in the hall pining for Isabella, so I figured he'd be somewhat... dejected. I RP'd so that Bella didn't initially know who he was and then snapped onto it. I was wondering, because she'd know who the new prince was by name at least, but she'd been travelling Octavien married the Princess. If you want me to change anything (e.g. edit out the last paragraph) , just say the word :) )


Bella felt she had startled him somewhat, but only enough for a fleeting moment’s though to fly across his face before he answered her.

"No need to apologize, Baroness", he let slip a soft, welcoming smile. "I did not come here seeking solitude. You are interrupting nothing."

Bella graciously returned the smile, venturing in further into the room as he proceeded to introduce himself.

"Octavien Lahance", he offered, his head somewhat tilted as if it were a test to see whether she’d recognise the name; fame or infamy. There was no title attached to the name and yet somehow Bella felt there must be. Noblemen usually left out their titles for one of two things; fear of recognition or through egotistical compulsion. This man, Octavien, did not seem to belong to the latter, soft spoken and polite did not remind her of men and women who revelled in the power of a prefix to their names.

Yet the idea that he held some title, possibly important, clawed away at her. Even if he did, it earned nothing but respect from Bella to finally meet someone who did not cling to their title as if it were a raft in a dark and storming sea. It appeared to be a compulsive need or ritual to have to flaunt titles as a victory flag. She had had enough of games and power struggles for one day. A simple, sincere conversation would do.

“It is a pleasure Monsieur Lahance,” Bella gave a genuine, warm smile as she played out an elegant curtsey, deciding that he deserved decorum paid to him regardless of his title, if any. She began walk further into the room, her fingers wantonly toying with the soft lace of the drapes and the cold edges of the ornaments and decorations that stood in the room. The silk of her dress flowed effortlessly around her, accentuating the movement of the body that wore it, tandem with every slow fall of the arm and sway of the hips. “You seemed embroiled in thought, almost held captive..."
Bella let the sentence trail off, leaving it as an open invitation if he wanted to indulge in random discussions seeing as they had both decided to shun the rest of the court for simple rest of mind.
_________________________________________________________________

Christine decided to indulge in boldness and approach the man who had been alarmed at her appearance at the door. He seemed immersed in conversation with another noblewoman who sat with him, but for the worried glances aimed in her direction.

The cognac was being served, particularly originating from the direction of the man in question. Christine decided that if company did not approach her, she was meant to make the first move.

She walked over to their direction, the creases of her dress moulding itself into her movements as the footsteps dissipated into the corners of the room.
As her form fell finally close enough to the man, Christine stopped to formulate a pleasant smile over her face, before venturing to finally speak.

"You seemed somewhat startled by me appearance, sir," Christine could feel her voice pour out smoothly in to the air. She then glanced to the woman who sat with him, decided to introduce herself. "Please forgive my interruption. I am Christine Du Fontaine, Duchesse D'Avingnon."

[Seiza]

Dimitri had been emptying the remains of his glass while Lady Mollier listed out her family. The details she gave were small but not insignificant: she did not hail from a big family, there was no mention of children—as anyone who spent any time with the Comte (or Comtesse) de Valois would realise, in the eyes of parents with children, all other relations mattered as much as moss—and…

It was a good thing he had finished when she mentioned Lord Venn.

He only remembered Lord Simon because the latter’s reputation occasionally reached even Lorraine. Lord Simon’s reputation was extraordinarily (and, some thought, suspiciously) spotless. But Dimitri paid little attention to scraps of gossip, so her words caught him by surprise. “Venn”… Surely, an odd coincidence at best? He placed his glass on the table, somewhat abruptly, about to inquire—

“You seemed somewhat startled by my appearance, sir.” A velvety voice interrupted him. Surprises building upon more: the cloaked figure approached their table, walking as softly as a cat.

Well, no longer quite so cloaked. And now, with a closer view, he noted that she was not as drenched as she had appeared, as well as being younger than expected for a messenger. She must have taken their silence as an invitation to introduce herself, for she turned to Lady Mollier, smilingly unperturbed: “Please forgive my interruption. I am Christine Du Fontaine, Duchesse D'Avingnon.”

Avingnon. He knew the province, of course. But with it being so far south of Lorraine, he hadn’t much reason to communicate regularly with the Fontaine family. The last letters exchanged must have been years ago. He was fairly certain, however, that the Duchesse d’Avingnon was slightly older…

The brunette faced him, still standing. Dimitri responded by rising from his own seat, replying in French, “Pardon my reaction, Duchesse. It is not often that one arrives at the Red Salon partly drenched, hence my alarm that something was amiss. Have a seat; the cognac shall warm you.” He gestured to an unused glass, half-filled with glimmering alcohol.

It was not a long walk from the entrance of the Red Salon to their table. Yet it was still unbelievable that the Duchesse managed to get this far without another gentleman offering her a seat. There was little sense in complaining, though, and so he set about with introductions. He switched to English, for the sake of their foreign guest, merely hoping that the Duchesse would follow suit.

“I am Duke Dimitri of Lorraine, and this is Lady Charmaine de Mollier from England. I gather you just arrived at the Palace, Duchesse?”

Dimitri’s mind was overflowing with questions, both for this young Duchesse whom he did not recognise and who did not seem to know him, as well as for Lady Mollier’s brother. As much as he wished to skip straight to them, courtesy demanded he take it one step at a time.

______

((So, yeah, Dimitri doesn't know Christine's parents have kicked the bucket. XD

Oh, and I assumed you were referring to Avignon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avignon), hence the "far south" mention. But feel free to correct if I got it wrong!

And for everyone's reading pleasure: Beauty in the 17th century (http://www.nmm.ac.uk/server/show/conWebDoc.133). Just like the whole "people didn't bathe much back then", this is one of those times I'm way happier sticking to present-day logick than being historically accurate. Yeowch, LEAD?))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Yeah, the thing with Elena was part of what I meant with "recent events". :) No need to change anything.)))


Watching for a spark of recognition in the young lady's eyes, Octavien was both slightly surprised and at the same time rather relieved to find that there was none. While his appearance might not be widely known to those that had not been in court for the past two weeks or so, he did know that his name was. News had obviously travelled fast, considering it had only taken César and Joséphine a mere few days to show up at the Palace, and for Octavien to recieve a letter from his mother, filled with melodramatic complaints of how he had gone and married the very Princess of the kingdom, and not even invited his poor mother to be part of the celebration. Granted, they both knew she spread it on a little thick, just for the sake of melodrama itself, as the two of them had always found amusement in obviously exaggerating every now and then. It was simply part of the dynamics between them, almost like an inside joke between mother and dearly beloved son. But that did not mean he wouldn't have a lot of explaining to do, once they met in the flesh again. Acted melodrama aside, he could tell from the letter that she really was a bit hurt that he had not mentioned anything about the impending wedding, nor invited her to participate. She couldn't possibly know that he'd had little chance to do so, what with agreeing to the whole thing only hours before the event itself.

But apparently, and, quite naturally really, there were still those that had not heard the news of the sudden change of groom. Gossip could be as elusive as it could be forceful, and if one was travelling, odds were the rumours would either pass right by you on the road in their hurry to reach the next town or village, or they would simply never catch up with you in the first place.
And frankly, Octavien did not mind. If anything, someone not knowing who, or rather what he was, was a welcome break. A chance to breathe, to be just another new face.

"It is a pleasure Monsieur Lahance," said the Baroness with a pleasant smile on her lips, and gave a graceful curtsey, confirming his observation with words, yet with her actions indicating that she suspected that just because he had not given a title, it did not mean there was none to be given.

It didn't seem to be a cause for much concern or apprehension in her, however, leaving Octavien to wonder if he had finally come across another courtier that was genuinly laidback, and had no problem allowing herself a moment or two of being perfectly natural and human, instead of spending every waking hour playing games and following rules, standards and expectations. So far, such courtiers had been a rare breed indeed. At least until the arrival of César, who at times didn't seem to give a hoot about what anyone thought of him, or even hide what he thought about them in turn. And then there was, of course, Joséphine, who while she was far from as blatant as her husband could be, had a genuinly pleasant and personal way about her, which would make Octavien feel that he was in the company of a real person, and not a doll or an actor following a script of nothing but society's every spoken and unspoken rule.

However, none of that meant that he was opposed to behaving in accordance with said rules. Octavien was a great fan of courtesy and respect, he had been raised to be a gentleman. And he did not shy away from playing the game of deception and scheming either, when the occasion called for it - as quite a few of his actions over the past couple of weeks would suggest. But that was just it; when the occasion called for it. There was a time and a place for everything, and if one did not choose carefully, one would not end up on good terms with neither foes, nor intended friends.

"You seemed embroiled in thought," the Baroness continued, while moving further into the room, following one of the walls and running her fingertips over the various decorations and ornaments in the process, as if drinking in the beauty of the room with all her senses. "... almost held captive..."

Octavien watched her slow elegant stride, a memory of a similar grace and sensuality flickering in his mind. A memory that was abruptly cut short and dismissed as soon as he realized who she reminded him of, by shooting at glance toward the painting he had been staring at when the Baroness had first roused him from his thoughts.
He had been sentimental enough already.

"I suppose I was...", he said slowly, and his gaze returned to her while he gave another faint, almost melancholic smile. "Sometimes, one simply finds that the past holds more appeal than does the present."

[Fayreview]

((Just a little reminder 24 hours until evening.))

[funheart00]

((ooc;; Thanks for the welcome's back guys, and boy does this place take off at night, are you all vampires. Well, nah your probably not .. it's just the dumb timezones :P Roseline says hey.))


.Name: Roseline Taylor

.Age: 23

.Title: Baroness

.Personality: Being beautiful and outspoken, Roseline always seemed to attract a lot of attention. She aims to be as high up the social ladder as possible, and tells herself that she'd do it by any means nessasary, even if that meant ruining another's chances. Her father was caught in a Major Scandal when he was a Duc. He was banished from the court, and his only daughter, the illigitamit Roseline was the outcome. She may seem to be willing to do anything nessasary to reach the top, but after being shunned for being who she is, she would love to be included. She doesn't often talk about her home life, and it is rare that she opens up completely in atempts to hide her shady background.

.Picture:

http://i171.photobucket.com/albums/u294/funheart00/AA.jpg

[funheart00]

The large coach rolled along the uneven ground, bumping and shuddering so that the single passenger inside lurched slightly to the side of it. The streets were almost deserted. It was late afternoon and the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows along the inside of the coach as sun faded out of it. The young woman sitting almost completely silently inside ran a single finger from crease of her elbow to her slender wrist distractedly. The heavy rain splattered onto the carriage making a drumming rhythm that the young woman seemed to be concentrating on. As the horses pulling the coach turned the coach took another lurch and the blonde inside seemed to return to herself, stopping her preoccupied stroking of her arm and gazing upwards to the ceiling as if attempting to see through it to the dimming sky.

The coach had made deep tracks in the mud the heavy downpours of rain had produced, and other coaches that had already trundled along this way had created more, causing this particular, well used, road to become as unstable as ever. Roseline smiled happily to herself, she knew that, finally she was approaching the Palace that she had been so looking forward to. Her family, on the other hand were less than impressed about Roseline’s decision to return to Court their opinion being that she should stay home, be married and start a family. The driver of the coach gave an unexpected cough and Roseline hoped they were almost there. A happy smile on her bright features was ill fitting to her sombre mourning dress. No doubt she would be forced to wear the black mourning outfit for more days after this, and although deep inside her attitude fitted it well, for now her happiness at returning to the Palace outshone hidden sadness.

The coach came to a shuddering stop and the rain seemed to beat down on the coach harder than ever, Roseline heard another chesty cough escape from the driver, followed by a dull thud as he jumped down from where he had sat for the lengthy journey. Squelches in the mud did nothing, though it should’ve as she was soon to walk through it, to dampen Roseline’s spirit. A moment later, and the driver had arrived at her door, and with a click it swung wide, granting Roseline her first glimpse of the magnificent Palace in what seemed to be much to long.

"Madame?” The driver’s deep, husky voice drew Roseline away from her daydreams of the Palace. What had happened in her absents she was sure that Louisa, her lovely maid, was likely to waste no time in telling her. She finally looked down towards the driver who was almost soaked to the skin, and flashing him a warm smile she jumped down gladly taking his outstretched hand and ignoring his narrowed eyes and loud sigh as she stood for a second, oblivious to the pouring rain, happily taking in every aspect of the Palace and its grounds.

"Madame” the aggravated driver repeated, “would you like me to accompany you to the Palace?” He asked, his tone and every pore of his body screaming the opposite of his question though Roseline happily ignored this and simply shot him another warm smile, one completely out of place compared to her dark dress.

“It would be lovely for you to, Monsieur.” She said and began walking towards the Palace briskly, becoming aware that it wouldn’t be right for her to enter the Palace soaking wet in mourning clothes or she was much more likely to get too much of a sympathetic greeting for her current mood to make the most of.

After an obvious hesitation the driver hurried to catch up with the pretty blonde now striding quickly towards the large doors. He overtook her on the wet stone steps leading to the entrance and as she passed him, Roseline realised he was panting slightly after the effort he took to overtake her

“Merci Monsieur,” she said with a warm smile and quickly entered the warm Palace, attempting to wring out the wettest parts of her long blonde hair before moving graciously deeper into the Palace. She allowed her eyes to wander along the beautiful Palace walls as she walked along the carpeted hallway.


((ooc;; Approachable. Almost anywhere inside the castle, looking damp xPP))

[AtropaMandragora]

César was satisfied. Things had taken a little longer than he had anticipated and would have appreciated, but at long last, someone had finally had the decency to ask about the composer of the musical piece they had just heard. And even though by that time, most of the people around them that had been previously engaged - be it by conversation or card play - had returned to what they had been doing and thus stopped listening, thanks to the quick wits of his wife, and the enthusiasm of one of her... vociferous... acquaintances - the Marquise de Magenta - most of them would be left unknowing of whose work they had all just had the pleasure of listening to.

"You do me great honour, Comte," Joséphine told the man that had inquired about the composer. "I am pleased you've found it to your liking. I cannot take credit for the composition of the piece however; that belongs entirely to our Prince, Octavien Lahance. Music is perhaps one of his Majesty's lesser known talents, but I am confident that, given time, each of them will make themselves known."

Ah, wasn't she magnificent? A true master at getting a point across with such subtlety that instead of telling people what they should think, it hinted that perhaps they should reconsider their stance, as they had obviously failed to recognize something that she saw quite clearly. And no one liked failing. No one liked missing what to others was so plain to see.

And while Joséphine was soft-spoken enough to only be heard by those closest to them, who were still listening, the Marquise de Magenta's reaction ensured that most of the others in the Salon registered that something noteworthy had just been uttered, as apparently, the Prince's talent was the cause of quite a bit of excitement on her part. It was impossible not to hear her prattle on about how she hadn't known that the Prince could compose, and such a passionate piece, too, and oh, how pleased he must be to have someone like Joséphine, with her pleasant voice, to perform it.
On and on she went, until she finally paused to draw in a new breath, obviously intent on continuing her praise. It was the opportunity César had been waiting for, as he was determined to get a word in edgewise.

"Now now, Joséphine", he said. "You're giving His Majesty all the credit, when really, it is partly your work as well. The vocals are your own addition, are they not?"

Goal being to improve the court's impression of Octavien or not, he wouldn't let it happen on Joséphine's expense. She deserved praise not only for her playing and for her voice, but also for her ability to add such lovely vocals to a musical piece in the first place. And maybe, just maybe, it was a way for César to boast a little bit more, by making everyone aware that he had what every man wanted; a beautiful, intelligent and talented young wife.
He simply couldn't help himself.

[Alissa888]

"I suppose I was...", Octavien uttered the words softly, a sombre smile trickling into his lips as his eyes returned to her. Bella let her gaze fall subtly over him, sensing and studying the hidden depth to his reply, as if he had almost wished that he hadn’t been trapped in his thought. "Sometimes, one simply finds that the past holds more appeal than does the present."

Bella continued to caress the walls as she almost glided on into the room. She could feel the weight of his words, almost a burden on him as if he did not enjoy being somehow trapped in the past. She finally came to a smooth rest, placing her hand against the cool wall as she rested against it, facing Octavein.

“A man with a story to tell,” Bella almost whispered softly as a warm, inquisitive smile began to mould over her lips. The fingers of her hand were tracing the embossing in her wallpaper absently, as if it brought her some form of comfort. Octavien was a curious sort, laden with some emotional weight or another in the face of his youth. He seemed carry a spark – a distant light, now – of lightness and mischief and yet his form seemed somewhat dejected.

Bella suddenly realised that he may not take too well to being asked about what ailed him and it really was out of the question to do so; it was none of her business. Besides, he seemed to be someone who could shun the false airs and graces for a moment’s sincerity. It was a gift to find another like that, another person who was willing to stop pretending that everything came down to power and money. Perhaps they were the ones pretending.

Maybe Octavien was secretly laughing at her not knowing who he was? If he was that important. Perhaps Bella was growing paranoid? Either way, she was grateful for the opportunity to be people rather than positions in society. It was a small price to pay for something she craved so deeply at present.

Bella gracefully peeled herself away from the wall, beginning to walk in what was almost a dance to music she could faintly imagine as she asked herself where her life was really going; with her father now absent indefinitely, her responsiblity to make her own stance in the world, being a woman, no less. Octavien and herself were not so different at all, wanting to live in the past, clinging to things they both knew.

“I suppose we all have our stories to tell,” she gave a soft sigh in realisation, returning her gaze onto his form. “Perhaps we only cling to the past because we do not know what the future holds for us?”

(OOC: Sorry for general weirdness of that, it's really late and I just got back from dining out :) )

[Fayreview]

Mercy re-entered the castle, the rain was pouring down and the front of her dress was wet, she dispatched a note to the Duc d'Lorraine it was short and sweet.

Dear Dimitri,

My dress has returned and along with it a certain bill which i believe you wished to deal with. I would therefore request your presense over dinner so we may fianlly put the issue to rest.

Yours in greatest anticipation.

M.

It was dispatched and taken into the red salon no doubt to interrupt some mildly interesting conversation.

Mercy was wondering through the castle with the express intention of returning to her chambers to dry off, clean up and put on her blue dress. She however haulted just short of a much younger woman who was dripping wet.

"Baroness Taylor, it has been quite a while since we last spoke." It would be quite a wierd sight for any other person to see these two rain-soaked Baronesses talking in a Palace corridor. the hillarty was however lost on Mercy who was genuinely interested in the woman's return to the court.

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Okay, that article is... odd. And yup, Sezia, Avignon is fine (I spelt it wrong, oops!). And lol, Christine's about to have a fun time explaining her sudden lack of parents!)

“Pardon my reaction, Duchesse. It is not often that one arrives at the Red Salon partly drenched, hence my alarm that something was amiss. Have a seat; the cognac shall warm you,” the man offered, gesturing to a seat and the promised alcohol. Christine let a small laugh at his brave admittance of being distressed at her unorthodox entrance.
“I am Duke Dimitri of Lorraine,” the man introduced himself before proceeding introducing his female companion “…and this is Lady Charmaine de Mollier from England.”
Christine let her smile flow from the Duc to the Lady.

Lady de Mollier. English. Christine personally had nothing against the nation, but France had a sworn vendetta against it. Still, she decided to indulge in a little social tolerance for the sake of Lady Charmaine and continue the conversation in English.

“I gather you just arrived at the Palace, Duchesse?” Dimitri had continued, making her attention return to him.

“Yes,” Christine admitted with grace, knowing her entrance looking ravaged by the rain had given it away. However, she gave away nothing more than that. She sipped carefully at the cognac, tasting it for every drop, registering the flicker of curiosity behind Dimitri’s eyes. “Have I missed much, Duke?”

[FurryPanda]

Larkin had noticed vaguely that it had started to rain during the harpsichordist's performance, but he was inside, and in his suite was a massive fireplace. Who could possibly ask for anything more? His mind was drawn from his brief fantasy by Marie-Elisabeth laughing at his last comment and saying, “Makes English sound attractive? My goodness, it must be a greater relief than I thought to be back here. Though it must be interesting to visit such an…exotic place”.

Interesting? Undoubtedly. Larkin had enjoyed his time in Zimbabwe, make no mistake, and he hadn't even missed his homeland that much. Then again, now that he was back he wondered how he had ever convinced himself to leave. With much effort he brought himself from more thoughts of featherbeds, wine and general luxury to hear his companion saying affectionatley, “My son is always talking about wanting to go off to exotic places and fight great battles like his father. But I keep telling him he’s got to at least wait until his age reaches double digits before he goes charging off to war”.

That coaxed a smile onto Larkin's face. The general popularity of war astounded him. Then again, he, by most of the one's who made it popular, was an old fart. So fair enough. Before he could get much of anything in edge wise she continued, “Where are my manners, I forgot to give you the name of the lovely harpsichordist. That’s Joséphine de la Vallière, the Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan. She’s standing just over there with her husband César, the Marquis”.

"Ah, thank you for that, I was most intrigued." Mont-de-Marsan... he hadn't heard of the previous marquis dying, which was strange, since the marquedom was right next to Aurvilies' parent duchy. He would have to speak to his steward, that was something he should have been informed of..

Now was not the time to worry about it though, he couldn't do anything much about it, nor did it matter overmuch. He contemplated inquiring after the peice the Marquise had played, but decided against it. For at least the first few days he was at court he would be walking a very fine line between fascinating world traveler and woefully ignorant interloper. If the song was popular then it would make him appear unschooled in the latest fashions, and if it was new then he would surely hear about it elsewhere.

Little else seemed like it ought to be said, and that was further added to by a cognac being distributed. He gratefully accepted a glass and paused for a moment to inhale the liquor's bouquet. That too was something he would ahve to reacquaint himself with, although he had no doubt that sampling a wine cellar would not be nearly as difficult or awkward as discovering what he had missed in music and art.

"Now this is something just wonderful after years abroad- sitting in a comfortable chair, with a glass of good cognac, and conversing in one's mother tongue." Larkin almost smirked at that. he apparently ahd mised home alot, getting all sentimental, out loud even, when he was stone cold sober.

((OOC: Bleh... small talk, small talk, small talk. Also, if this is boring you slytherin, feel free to depart, I don't mind. And whoot to small talk!
[b]Atropa, or Ghanima[b], if its been established where mont-de-marsan is, and I'm way off base, please tell me and I'll fix it))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Furry - I can't find the exact source where I got it from now, but the map on this page (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mont-de-Marsan) shows where today's commune is located, which is basically the same area.)))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Bleh, so if its a marquedom they'd be right on top of each other. Editing now))

[Slytherin-Girl]

“Indeed” Marie-Elisabeth said, carefully waving away the glass offered to her “There is nothing better than being at home, where one really belongs”. She smiled and tapped the locket around her neck, before picking up the small purse she had carried with her. She then started picking up the neatly stacked piles of coins on the table in front of her and placing them inside it.

“It’s getting quite close to dinner hour isn’t it” she said, placing the last few coins into the bag and pulling the drawstrings closed “I’m afraid that I shall have to beg your leave to prepare for dinner”. She smiled and pushed her chair out slightly before rising from it with the bag looped around one of her slender wrists.

“It has been a pleasure Baron de Aurvilies” she said, curtseying politely “Perhaps I will see you again soon and you can tell me more about this place even more barabaric than England, though I’m still not quite convinced such a land exists”. She smiled and exited the salon without bothering to look at anyone else, as everyone was involved in conversations of their own.

The Red Salon was on the opposite end of the palace to her own suite of rooms, so she started walking through the many halls that led there. She could hear the thunder even through the walls and stopped to look out one of the windows near her rooms once she had gotten close to them. The rain was pelting everything in sight and running down the window panes like small rivers. It made her smile, reminding her of how fond Charles was of splashing around in the river that ran across the great Valois estate. She looked down at her locket and carefully opened it to look at the picture inside.


((OOC: *snicker* If Larkin’s an old fart, what’s Dimitri, a fossil? *snickers some more* EDIT: A thousand pardons, he's a walking fossil. How could I fail to see something so obvious?
And I’m not sure if they had purses exactly like that back then, but oh well.
I was just gonna have her wander back to her rooms to get dressed for dinner eventually, but if anyone wants to run into her and say hello it’s all good :P She's kinda just standing around right now)))

[Seiza]

((Ahem! Walking fossil, thank you. *harrumphs* :P [EDIT] All is forgiven. *benignly bequeaths upon you two bones*

Blech post, but I'll not be able to check in the rest of the day, so best to get this out now.

Alissa: Will have to take a raincheck on that one! But it should be... interesting *shifty eyes*))

______

“Have I missed much, Duke?” the brunette asked, taking his hint and following up in English. Despite her age, she seemed very careful to mask how she felt about speaking the foreign tongue; and her movements remained graceful, down to way she held her cognac. It reminded him of the cat once more; where Octavien had been a cat with claws, Christine was the black feline slinking behind a wall.

“Quite.” He paused briefly at the understatement of it all. “You may have heard of Her Highness’ illness in your travels, Duchesse. The funeral was held yesterday. In light of such unfortunate circumstances, Her Majesty the Queen has retired to her family estate to rest herself.”

Dimitri tried to frame it as neutrally as he could, but he knew it was in vain. Whenever a royal couple spent time apart, rumours multiplied like vermin in their wake.

He now found himself standing—having offered the Duchesse his seat—and—of all the odds—in an excellent position to escape. For all his questions and curiosity, this realisation was almost mind-blowing. Then, like the hand of fate itself, a messenger appeared beside him, delivering a note.

He read it quickly before folding the parchment. Curiosity was one thing, but he would at least be able to ask the Baroness herself over dinner about Lord Simon. There was also the matter of the dress…

“If you’ll excuse me, Duchesse, my Lady. Duchesse, I hope we shall meet at a later date. I fear I am quite behind news of Avignon.”

The ladies offered their goodbyes, and Dimitri headed to the exit.

((Not approachable.))

[AtropaMandragora]

Judging by the look on the face of the young Baroness, she had a mind sharp enough to register at least some of the weight behind Octavien's mysterious statement, as well as the slight upturn of his lips when that saddened smile stole across his lips. To others, his words might have seemed just some generic statement, or an attempt to say something profound to impress a beautiful lady. But to the Baroness, they seemed to ring true.

"A man with a story to tell," came her hushed voice from across the room, and even though the lacking luminance was dimming by the minute, Octavien could see a curious but pleasant smile widen on her lips.

Though it didn't seem that she intended for him to reply, perhaps realizing that as they were strangers, the time for possible confession was far from ideal. Something for which Octavien was grateful. She might seem open and friendly, and not prone to play games, but Octavien didn't trust her, simply because they had just met a few minutes ago, and he no longer trusted anyone he had not known for years. Perhaps she was playing games? Perhaps she knew exactly who he was, and the story he'd have to tell, but for whatever reason was pretending not to? Lately, there had always been that little voice in the back of his head, nagging that things were never what they appeared to be. He'd had it proven to him over and over and over again for the past couple of days, and even though it was a lesson he had learned a long time ago, when still a child, the intensity of the reminder now had been somewhat overwhelming.
But, he'd be damned if he'd grow so jaded as to stop looking for exceptions.

"I suppose we all have our stories to tell," Bella added as she began moving again after a momentary pause, starting out much like she was floating gracefully to the memory of a tune lingering in the very walls of the room, but ending up being weighed down by a sigh.

It seemed she, too, had moments in her past that she was far more fond of than what the present had to offer. Most everyone did, and Octavien couldn't resist flashing her a small but conceding smile, as if saying she had just taken the words right out of his mouth.

"Perhaps we only cling to the past because we do not know what the future holds for us?", she suggested, turning her gaze back to meet with his.

Something to which Octavien responded with a slight nod in part agreement, and a slight shrug, indicating that he found it to be a plausible explanation. But, and he knew from experience, it was not the ONLY explanation;

"Or perhaps because we know exactly what it holds for us", he offered his own thoughts on the matter, with a certain Spanish Excellency in mind.

He might have agreed to the marriage, but if anyone thought that meant he would have to like it, or that he intended to pretend that he did, they were sadly mistaken. Much like had been the idea with his marriage to Adalita, he would do his duty as a husband, and that was it. He would do no more, no less.

"Ah, but forgive me, Baroness", he said, deciding that time was nigh to pull himself out of the sombre thoughts to which he seemed destined to always return. "I am not providing very pleasant company, am I? Please accept my apologies, and I shall do my best to make amends."

[Ghanima Atreides]

César, Joséphine and others - the Red Salon

There were instances when having a vocal, exuberant acquaintance could prove beneficial, even useful, as was the case with the Red Salon performance and Marquise Florence de Magenta. Joséphine was forced to suppress a cunning grin when hearing the Marquise's high pitched voice rising above the general murmur to deliver the news of the composer's identity to the Salon's far corners, punctuated by her usual verbose commentaries on how wondrously intriguing and thrilling it all was. Florence de Magenta could work herself up into a fit of excitement without much encouragement, Joséphine mused wryly, recalling all their past encounters when she had her ear positively chewed off by the Marquise. One had to wonder at how a woman like her had managed to marry three times already, but the typical absence of a husband at her side, some suggested with a smirk, pointed clearly to the fact that they welcomed as much time away from Florence's company as they could get.

All things considered, Joséphine was, for once, thankful for her company. Within fifteen minutes, Octavien went from an anonymous composer to being the name on quite a few lips – just as they had intended. Smiling contentedly to herself, Joséphine was just about to agree to another round of playing cards when César's voice interrupted:

"Now now, Joséphine", he said. "You're giving His Majesty all the credit, when really, it is partly your work as well. The vocals are your own addition, are they not?"

Ah, César...trust him to ensure his wife's talents were not overlooked in any circumstance. He had done it before, and while some might have thought he only wished to boast, Joséphine had to admit it was rather endearing. After all, even the most modest of souls felt the pleasure of being praised, and the young Marquise, despite not being particularly vain, also did not posses a surplus of modesty. Performance anxiety all but forgotten, a smile emerged on her lips as she drew her shoulders together in a slight shrug:

“Granted, that is true” she said, unable to keep a hint of pride from her voice. “A few personal verses that I felt would complement the melody quite nicely. Though it is only a modest addition to a wonderful musical piece.”

Joséphine was an admirer of the arts, and enjoyed poetry as well as prose and music. She had a few notebooks filled with verses and short stories that took shape first as thoughts, compelling to be transcribed upon paper, often overflowing with whatever emotion griped the Marquise's heart at the time. She rarely spoke of it to others however, knowing the general scepticism, if not dismissal, with which women writers were regarded by most.

[Fayreview]

The sky has darkened in the Palace of Light and air, the storm has not yet subsided but been quelled some what, feel free to go about your movements as were be be warned tomorrow is due in only 4 days time.

((So for those of you who wonder what I'm on.... it's sugar, and i simply meant it is Evening.))

[funheart00]

((ooc;; Sorry I haven't got back to you yet Fayre. French has held me up, a return to school isn't the best thing about getting better ... xP Typing something up now))

[Alissa888]

"Or perhaps because we know exactly what it holds for us,” Octavien replied after an ambiguous gesture at her previous comment. The scare light did favours for him, bathing the soft angles of his face as yet another thoughtful expression began to take hold while he seemed to ponder over his own sentiments.

Bella moved leisurely towards the harpsichord, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his statement. Perhaps it was what troubled him at present, perhaps his lack of control over his own life. She did agree partially, knowing that she knew part of what her future held for her, some things she would never be able to control. However, the certainty that haunted Octavien’s future, was not a feature of Bella’s outlook. She envied him that. Although, it were as if his future held for him something worse than certainty; entrapment. She had freedom, freedom to do what she wanted, however she wanted. She supposed he would have envied her that.

Her fingers lightly played over the keys in hesitation, remembering the notes she had once so earnestly learnt to please Daddy. She should have really done it more for herself, there was no real point in doing things just to please others. Bella’s fingers finally sank into the keys, bringing the music in her mind to life in a soft, elusively lingering melody that spread obligingly through the waiting hall.

Perhaps it wasn’t knowledge of the future that scared Octavien, perhaps it was acceptance. Bella refused to accept anything without the fair fight, a sentiment Octavien might have once shared. Not anymore. He seemed almost weathered down by his problems. Bella truly had no idea what his predicament was, but it had certainly affected him. She wondered whether someday in the past, he had been like her and whether, someday in the future, she’d become like him.

"Ah, but forgive me, Baroness," Octavien said, displaying a sudden change in spirits as if he had made a deal with himself to no longer indulge in whatever had held him captive. Bella looked up at him, a little stunned at the swift life and vivacity that became him in a moment’s absence. She could feel the engrossed smile that flowed over her lips as she gave him a moment’s awe. "I am not providing very pleasant company, am I? Please accept my apologies, and I shall do my best to make amends."

Bella gave a small laugh of admiration as she glanced back down at her hands playing soft notes on the harpsichord as the full smile played itself out of her control. She shook her head slightly, glancing back up at him.
"No, you are right,” she accepted, giving him the recognition he deserved for his statement. “We do know what the future holds for us; it's what we make of it....”
With that, Bella fleetingly returned her eyes to the harpsichord keys, finding her bearings, deciding to tell him he wasn’t half as appalling company as he would have thought.

“And you underestimate yourself, Monsieur Lehance,” she glanced up at him, giving him the appreciative smile he’d earned for his integrity. Her voice sang out delicately into the hall, warm and gracious in the dimming charity of the cold light. “I confess I find your company to be amongst the finest I’ve enjoyed."

It was true enough; she didn't feel the need to indulge in little games of etiquette with him and he seemed to have no expectation of such behaviour. It was a relief amongst the charade they all had to keep up the rest of the time.

“However, if you insist on making improvements…,” Bella shrugged gracefully, giving a blithe, playful laugh to help him lighten the mood. “I shall do my best to help."

(OOC: I hope that's okay, Atropa. I figured Octavien lightened up at that last sentence so I made it look like he'd actually brightened up?)

[funheart00]

Roseline was fiddling with the intricate stitching over the bodice of her, for the most part, plain black dress when a familiar voice roused her from her thoughts, and a small smile flickered over her delicate features as she recognised the older Baroness.

"Baroness Taylor, it has been quite a while since we last spoke." Roseline instantly refreshed her smile at Mercy’s words and her eyes met with the Baroness’s. Mercy had long since gained Roseline’s respect and the woman’s greeting was much appreciated by Roseline, who had realised quite suddenly, probably prompted by Mercy’s ‘reputation’, that there would be wonder from the courtiers at her sudden disappearance and just as unexpected re-arrival to Court, and just as many questions from her maid, Louisa which would most definitely somehow find it’s way around Court.

It was several long moments before Roseline realised that she was standing in a Palace corridor, dripping wet with another, just as soaking Baroness. It would have been funny if Roseline wasn’t so genuinely happy to see another courtier, Baroness Venn’s language reminding her of the fact that she was most definitely away from home now.

“Yes.” Roseline replied, a warm smile crawling back over her lips, “Much too long. I have missed the Court too much being away. I don’t believe that I could leave at all now.” She said truthfully allowing, for a second her gaze to move to the window.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting shadows along the beautiful gardens of the Palace that winter had so cruelly made dormant. Roseline couldn’t wait for the summer to arrive and for the flowers to bloom. Summer was most definitely the best time of the year, and yet it was so slow in arriving this year to Roseline’s bitter disappointment.

“Baroness Venn, we must catch up some time. I have had little dignified conversation in my time away and would love to return to it soon.” Roseline said, turning her head back to the Baroness and smiling warmly. It had definitely been too long. Through the talk of her family while she was with them, it would seem as if another child of her mother’s had died in her returning here. Yet, her words to Mercy were truer than ever after she had said them aloud. She no longer felt as close to her family as she once did, obviously never fully accepted, but always loved, Roseline’s time at Court had moved her away from them. Yes, she loved her mother and siblings dearly but no longer did she feel as she once did.

“Yet, I’m afraid of bursting into a monologue – an amazingly boring one that may last the night if you allow me to continue,” Roseline said, once more a warm smile reaching her eyes spread over her features. She curled a strand of hair back up into her up-do as she continued, “How have you been Baroness, I’m afraid I know as much of the going’s on in Court as you know of my own time away, which is, sadly very little.”



((ooc;; Sorry it did take so long Fayre... and if you didn’t want to move on feel free to skip over the last paragraph =]]))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was inexplicably amused when Marie-Elisabeth spoke of the dinner hour coming,a nd went off to get dressed. One thing he had t give Zimbabwe credit for, no over elaborate dining rituals. Then again, the food was not as good, having a tendency to be wretchedly overspiced.

Larkin, seieng as there was nothing important for him to do before dinner, and also seeing that it might not be the wisest idea to sit by himself at a card table, got up to wander the halls. It would take him a grave long while to get used to the sheer opulence of the palace and he did not fool himself into thinking that he fully appreciated the wall carvings. Either that, or the boredom made looking at walls comparitively fascinating. He did not mind either way.

((Approachable))

[Slytherin-Girl]

The rain had a funny habit of putting Marie-Elisabeth in a less than pleasant mood. In fact it tended to put her in a downright depressed one. She had been in a good one for most of the day, but the rain had changed that.

She didn't speak very much to her maids upon returning to her rooms, except to point out which dress (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/sombre.jpg) she had chosen to wear for dinner. It wasn't one of her fanciest, or even one of her nicest, but it suited her mood at the moment. She basically stood stock still unless she had to move an arm or turn her head while they undressed and re dressed her for dinner.

She had never been very fond of rain, always preferring days when it was bright and sunny. Rain seemed to accompany every sad or depressing event in her life with startling regularity. The rain had been pelting the windows of the playroom when a 10 year old Marie-Elisabeth and her only younger sibling Maximilian had been told that their father had just passed away. It had been raining again two years later when she had been summonded to her mother's study and been told she was to marry the Comte de Valois the following year. And it had also been raining three years ago when had been forced to go and tell a 3 year old boy tha his father was gone.

The maids informed her that they were done and she muttered her thanks before slipping her feet into her shoes and walking out the door. She walked quietly down the halls to the Dining Room, and just as quietly took a seat at one of the tables once she got there.


(((OOC: Approachable, just sitting around waiting for dinner)))

[Fayreview]

"I am fairing very well, I do not know what it is but something keeps me in a brilliant mood as of late," Mercy smiled it was nice to find people who take a genuine interest. "The court of course has chaned slightly with the Princess' funeral and of course the Queens' holiday." Mercy paused the bells were rining in the clock tower. "This may seems rather cliche of me, but I'm actually due to meet someone for dinner, though perhaps you would do me the pleasure, Baroness of joining me for breakfast, then we can truley get re-aquainted. Mercy waited for a reply before backing away from the Baroness with a small bow and a bright smile.

Once round a corner Mercy began to hurry, she really did need to clean up if se were to have dinner with Dimitri, she assumed as she had, foolishly, left no time or place on her note he would arrive at her suite to collect her and there was no way she could do that dressed as she was, she had had every intention of wearing her blue dress, freshly repaired and smelling beautiful from some sort of dressmakers treatment. It was whilst she was trying to find her second matching pair of shoes, afterall she had lost one to a reasonable cause, she stumble across her red dress, it was a velvet affair in a deep red, and whilst the time was late she was drawn to it tonight.

Mercy slipped into the dress, which was much more snug than she had last remembered it, she had located the matcfhing shoes in an instant, and fixing her hair with a few starnds hanging down by her face, and an unknown red flower to once side she stood back and smiled. She pressumably would not have to wait long for her gentleman companion for this evening to arrive.

((Sorry funheart I doubled booked darling Mercy but she would love to have breakfast with Roseline... and Seiza, lets hope Dimitri can locate her shall we :P))

[AtropaMandragora]

Had there been an audience witnessing the encounter between the young Prince and the even younger Baroness in the Grand Ballroom, the onlookers might have found themselves somewhat amused when in a matter of seconds but for very different reasons, slight surprise had spilled across both of their faces. The Baroness, apparently pleasantly surprised by Octavien's transformation from brooding thinker to somewhat more vivacious and youthful gentleman, and Octavien by the softly flowing melody unexpectedly brought forth from the piano by the Baroness' deft fingers. It wasn't the fact that she could play that surprised him - any accomplished lady would have been taught how to play at least one instrument properly - but rather the fact that she chose to, considering where she was, with whom she was, and what the topic was; the deserted and dimly lit Grand Ballroom of the Palace of Light and Air, with a man she did not know, talking about a matter that was clearly not the cause of particularly pleasant thoughts. By him, nor by her.

Though upon a closer inspection of the expression on her face as her fingers gently stroked the keys, it seemed to Octavien that she too had temporarily lost herself to memories and private ponderings, making it her turn to be roused from them by the sound of her company's voice.

A pleasantly soft laugh pushed past her lips then, as her eyes alternated between looking at him and at the keys underneath her hands, which were still producing that elusive melody. He didn't recognize it as something he had heard before, but there was a certain familiarity in it's element; something that appealed to him, that reminded him of the melodies that would come to him when he himself sat down by the harpsichord, and let his hands roam freely, with a will of their own. A soft, dreamy piece that would soothe the mind, no matter what turbulence might have been raging inside, only to change suddenly, throwing the listener into an intense crescendo of emotions turned music.
Although the part of the melody that the Baroness played remained peacefully flowing, Octavien could still hear the subtle promises of such intensity building underneath the surface, threads of what the rest of the melody might sound like weaving themselves through his mind.

Such a piece required true passion, not just to compose, but to play the way the Baroness did; with understanding of it's soul, of it's very being. For there were indeed wonderful works of music that had ceased to be 'just' music, and had turned into enteties themselves. Not living, nor breathing, but still enteties that needed to be understood in order for the musician to successfully present their beauty.
The Baroness Devine, much to Octavien's delight, seemed to be one such person.

"No, you are right", she smiled in response to his comment regarding the future, as apparently his rousing her from her thoughts had brough her back to the brief discussion that had preceded his apology. "We do know what the future holds for us; it's what we make of it..."

True in many ways, he had to admit. But never, ever so very simple. There were always factors, always things to be considered and taken into account, sometimes even circumstances one could not change, either because they were simply unchangable, or because one could not afford to try. As would be the case with Octavien's impending marriage to Her Exellency Elena whatever-it-was. Octavien was intelligent enough to realize that regardless of whether he liked it or not, his purpose at the moment, was that of a bargaining tool; something to be traded - in a manner of speaking - to secure a truce and an alliance between two nations. The fact that he was also a person mattered little, and so if he was to refuse to marry Her Exellency, he would've most likely been considered an inconvenience, something that had outlived it's usefulness. And what did one do with things one had no use for anymore? One either threw them away, or stored them away, in a place where in time they would be completely forgotten.
And that was a fate Octavien was not yet ready to accept. He would fight, but he would do it in his own way; a way far more subtle that simply digging his heels into the ground to make a fuss. And far more efficent.

"And you underestimate yourself, Monsieur Lahance", Bella continued, and flashed him a rather endearing smile. "I confess I find your company to be amongst the finest I've had."

My my, that was quite a compliment. Not one to be taken lightly, even if it was an exaggeration. Which, judging by the sincerity both in her voice and in her smile, it was not. Though no sooner had the thought entered his mind, than came the nagging voice in the back of his head again, insisting that looks could be decieving. Had it not been the case with most people lately, hmmmm?

For once, however, Octavien ordered the voice to shut the h*ll up. Having a little faith in people had proved a disappointing experience - Adalita, Mercy, Dimitri, all prime examples - but it had hardly proved a lethal one. And what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, and blah blah blah.
It was worth a shot.

"However", the young Baroness concluded, giving another jovial laugh, which along with her previous ones was starting to brighten Octavien's mood, though granted it was a mood that had not been quite as sombre as it had been for the most part lately, "if you insist on making improvements... Who am I to stand in your way?"

At that, anyone looking closely would have seen how Octavien halted in his idle motions, just for a moment, and how his eyes then narrowed slightly as a thought suddenly occured to him. His reasons for coming down here in the first place, had been mainly to find César and Joséphine and suggest the three of them got away from the Palace, just for a little while... But turning away the Baroness now, when she had been such pleasant company, was something he didn't much feel like doing. And, she obviously did have a love for music that was quite similar to his...

"Indeed", he said with a slight smile. "I do believe it would be far more pleasant to have you accompany me on the way, rather than to have you stand in it."

With that, he motioned for the open doors, indicating that he intended to take his leave of the room, but not necessarily of her, if she would be so kind as to follow his lead.

"There is a new opera opening in Paris tonight, you see", he continued once she was by his side and they exited the Grand Ballroom together. "I was on my way to suggest to a few friends that we attend. Perhaps you would do us the honor of joining us?"


(((ooc: Okay, I feel I have to comment the above post; considering the fact that Octavien is now pretty much engaged to be married again, only the day after his wife's funeral, and he hasn't been reflecting that it is too soon (nor has any other character, as far as I can see), I'm assuming the mourning period is considered over (I believe it might even have been hinted in one of Fayre's posts that it is?). He would never, EVER go to the opera if he was supposed to still be in mourning. So, I would appreciate it if he was not shot in the back over this opera thing, because it is not my intention to have him doing something wrong. In this case, at least. :D

And also, Alissa, I took the liberty of having Bella walk over to him to leave the room with him, but if you don't want her to do thatm let me know, and I'll edit accordingly.)))

[Seiza]

((Ghanima: ‘the typical absence of a husband at her side, some suggested with a smirk, pointed clearly to the fact that they welcomed as much time away from Florence's company as they could get.’

:laugh: ))

______

He only stopped by the de la Vallière’s table briefly, congratulating the Marquise Mont-de-Marsan on her recital, and bidding the Marquise de Magenta good evening. As he left the salon, he felt Florence watching his exit. For a moment, Dimitri wondered if she had been expecting him to stay with her the whole evening. Granted, neither had agreed explicitly if they were leaving together, but sometimes women just assumed… He nonetheless reassured himself with the thought that she was among her friends, and she would not be leaving alone.

He never had liked the Red Salon. The décor might have been different from his youth, but the scarlet theme affected his nerves too much.

He entered his empty suite, except for a manservant left to tend things while Rukov rode out… and hadn’t returned. The storm was just beginning to ebb; at this rate, he would be lucky to reach the Palace before moonrise. Dimitri did not expect his aid to ride back in the storm; he was, however, annoyed at the weather.

Then he remembered why he was annoyed at all. At worst, the package would arrive tomorrow. There was, really, no good reason for him to be in such bad spirits. Particularly just before meeting a noblewoman.

The note hadn’t specified where they would be dining. Dimitri picked a dark blue ensemble, one that wouldn’t appear over or under-dressed in most occasions. And then, as with any dealings with women, he cast his hopes to the fates, and headed to the west wing.

Specifically, he hoped she hadn’t expected him to know exactly where to meet her. Just in case, he checked with the guards by the Dining Room: no, they did not believe Baroness Venn had arrived. The next best guess—the uncooperative weather greatly limited one’s dining options—was that she awaited him at her suite.

Dimitri retraced the path he had once used, escorting the wounded Baroness after her near-accident. There was the painting. There was the name plaque. He knocked.

_____

((Fayre: I read Mercy’s note and my first thought was: “Wow, she’s got a LOT of faith in Dimitri to guess the meeting place”! :lol: Oh, I remember something about Mercy requesting a new name plaque for her room, but I wasn’t sure if it’s been changed from “Flight” to “Venn”. And if you don’t know something, best to not mention it. :D

Finally, I might not get to reply quickly-- one exam tomorrow, then frantic packing, then a 5-hour drive home. (So Mercy could've actually spent some time with Rosaline... sorry I didn't specify sooner >_<) I'll try to check in by tonight, though!

Oh, and feel free to have Dimitri announce his arrival :) ))

[AtropaMandragora]

((Ghanima: ‘the typical absence of a husband at her side, some suggested with a smirk, pointed clearly to the fact that they welcomed as much time away from Florence's company as they could get.’

:laugh: ))



(((ooc: :laugh: indeed! I love your way with words, Ghanima. I truly do.
And, is it just me, or is our dear Duc getting old? A large part of the Salon, the center of it being the very one he stopped by on his way out, is literally buzzing with the latest rumour, and the ever perceptive Duc doesn't even notice. Or could it be that he's distracted by the thoughts of a certain Baroness? ;) *lol* Ah, how I adore these characters.)))

[Fayreview]

((Oh well If funheart doesn't mind then breakfast will be a much better (and drier) time to talk :) and as for you exams come first so i may just be irritated if you do respond.... work out how to deal with that one Seiza!!!

Ghanima I wont use the same laughing emote as everyone else.... but wonderfully witty :D))

A knock, a strong authoritative knock yet one that gave a lady the respect she deserved, the Duc d'Lorraine it seemed gave an excellent good first impression unless of course he happened to strike you with the broad side of a carriage. I which case the charm was slightly, but not entirely, diminished. Mercy paused temporarily to concider that first encounter, or incident as it should probably be called. She smiled but she was keeping Dimitri waiting.

Mercy looked herself over, she'd do, it was only dinner after all, and actually it was dinner on the pretext of business, and therefore with Dimitri being the man of morals and codes of conduct she would have to make fun happen if she wished it to, and she did, for both their sakes. She collected a small red fan with black lace around its edges it was rather garrish when opened, but she would choose not to she also picked up a large stiff cream envelope in truth the bill for her dress had come in a much smaller white one but that did not seem as grand and a grand gesture was how she planned to start this evenings entertainment, the handwriting on the enveleope was large and loopy, it simply read, Dimitri.

Having made him wait abotu 20 seconds for response she opened the door and slipped outside, she closed it behind her, handed Dimitri the Envelope and took three and a half passes in front of him before turning her head, smiling, and offering the man her arm. Let the games begin she thought.

[funheart00]

((ooc;; It's fine Fayre. I'm pretty sure Roseline wouldn't mind waiting until she was dry either.

Plus, Atropa I've got to agree. They're adorable and hilarious.. aw sweet courtiers ;]]))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: *snort* blame Seiza, she offered the perfect fodder for that rumour mill xD But thank you :D I am seriously having fun with these cooky nobles.))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Ghanima, I do love your way with words. In fact, most of you guys here put me to shame!
And yup Atropa, I love these characters and their interactions, they're so endearing and Cesar and Jo, SO cute! Dimitri almost ran over Mercy? Lol, I never thought he had it in him!)

She realised he’d been staring slightly, not at her. Bella wasn’t sure if he had been staring at anything tangible, just the notes pouring through the air faintly and they wove into each other while new resonances took the place of the old. Octavien seemed pleased and oddly absorbed into it, as if he were drinking in every undertone. She wondered if he saw it the way she did, that every note was a word in a story being told in a universal idiom.

Bella felt his eyes narrow onto her, as if an idea flickered behind Octavien’s glassy eyes considering his options on what to do. The sudden light of the conversation had brought an ethereal beauty and appeal to his eyes as he finally put the though to rest through to decision.

"Indeed," he let a small smile sparkle over his mouth as the expression of contemplation faded away. "I do believe it would be far more pleasant to have you accompany me on the way, rather than to have you stand in it."

Bella was used to compliments being thrown her way, most of them insincere and hollow. However, this was not really a compliment, just an observation and yet somehow more flattering than most of the things she’d had said to her, simply because it was probably honest. For all her underlying suspicions of Octavien, Bella found ease in the company of a complete stranger, finally feeling free to be herself in a long time.

She hated the restrictions of society, though she usually conformed to them, she hated them with passion. It was a necessary evil, but it’d managed to strip away what humanity nobles were capable of. Worse yet, it excused elitist, conceited behaviour and even encouraged it. Bella herself, with all her charms and decorum, was capable of it. It held even her prisoner at times. It was a feature she was not proud of, but reluctantly glad about for the simple reason it was the only way out sometimes. It helped her when she needed it the most, but she made sure never to flaunt it.

She let her gaze return to him as she leaned slightly against the harpsichord waiting for him to continue as it appeared he might. He gracefully motioned to the doors, making his way towards them, his eyes still poised on her. Bella wondered for a brief moment whether Octavien had simply had enough and decided to take leave. However, his eyes spoke differently, wanting to continue with her company for a while longer at least. Bella slowly walked over to him, exiting the great hall once by his side.

"There is a new opera opening in Paris tonight, you see,” he began with intention as Bella turned her eyes to him in anticipation of what he had to say regarding it. "I was on my way to suggest to a few friends that we attend. Perhaps you would do us the honor of joining us?"

She was surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. Before she knew it, a subtle, delighted laugh escaped her lips. Opera. She did not know how to respond for a moment, taken back and flattered that he’d enjoyed her company enough thus far to request more of it. Especially since she’d only been herself, more so than any other time she had been at court. Maybe he really was as blasé as she’d hoped; kindred spirits of her kind were a valued scarcity. However, the thought that he was playing her for a fool continued to dig at her, silently at the back of her mind as she chose to pay no heed to it. She would be careful, but she wasn't going to let her paranoia rule her.

“I would love to,” Bella graciously accepted with a gentle smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

She continued to walk with Octavien, her eyes flickering occasionally to the window, watching the abating storm, glorious in its determination. She could feel the dress sweep around her as she walked, the silk moulding into place with every step and every curve. The fading light played it’s last tricks on the hallway, rising and falling through every crevice it could find. Bella found herself losing to thought again, as the fingers of one hand drew soft, elaborate designs over the back of the other hand while it rested over her front.

“I have a confession to make,” she turned back to Octavien, bravely deciding to spill her secret regardless of what he chose to think of it. “I have never been to opera.”

She gave a small, self-conscious laugh, flicking her eyes back to the window as she chose to follow up her candid admission with the explanation it deserved before he could have the chance to react.

“I mean, I have always wanted to,” she turned back to him with a nod, unsure of how to explain that indulging in her love of the music and arts had not included opera thus far. She wondered whether his estimation of her had dropped several levels, but it did not perturb her as much as it could have done if he were someone else. Bella decided he wasn’t the person to delve into pretentiousness with, this was one of the few with whom she could act naturally. “The opportunity simply never arose. Well, until now, of course.”

(OOC: Atropa, I hope it's okay that I kept them walking for a short while after they left the room? If that's not what you had in mind, just let me know and I'll edit :) )

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Probably spammy, but thought this would amuse you guys. I added the old walking fossil (AKA Dimitri) to my game today. And who was in his welcoming committee? Marie-Elisabeth and Cesar. So he greets them, and about 2.5 seconds afterwards Cesar starts hitting on Marie-Elisabeth in the middle of the street! This (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/snapshot_952f72b0_152f7681.jpg) is all I managed to get though, I wasn't quick enough for a hitting on pic. They were talking about necklaces or jewelry or soemthing like that.

And then afterwards they were all dancing, and Dimitri kept shooting dirty looks at Cesar and getting wants to poke and shove him! I must admit though, for a fossil he has some pretty awesome dance moves (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/snapshot_952f72b0_f52f777e.jpg) )))

[Fayreview]

((Damn you SlytherinGirl... im meant to be revising but now i just want to play sims.... oh dear but in other news I may almost be happy enough with Mercy to release her unto the site Atropa!))

[AtropaMandragora]

So he greets them, and about 2.5 seconds afterwards Cesar starts hitting on Marie-Elisabeth in the middle of the street! ..... They were talking about necklaces or jewelry or soemthing like that.
:laugh: Oh my God, he does stay true to character! And that is such a coincidence (the jewelry thing), eh, slytherin? ;)

... for a fossil he has some pretty awesome dance moves (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/snapshot_952f72b0_f52f777e.jpg)
*tries to restrain giggle* ... *fails miserably, and bursts out laughing*
Looks like poking and shoving wasn't enough, he's stepping on César's foot, too!


-----------------------------------------------------


It had started out nothing more but a small tingle, the mere hint of a feeling, but had during the course of the past couple of minutes grown stronger, until he was no longer in doubt of whether or not it really existed, or was simply an illusion; hope manifesting itself as something that seemed real, but was not.

It wasn't trust exactly, as Octavien, due to recent events, had found his ability to trust to be severely lacking. But it was something similar. Careful faith, the willingness to take a chance. Not enough that it would end up harming him if it turned out he was wrong in doing so, but a chance nonetheless. To him, it felt like a giant leap back towards what he had been when coming here. For while on arrival at court he could hardly have been described as an innocent young boy without a cunning bone in his body, he hadn't been nearly as suspicious of people and their motives, as his experiences as of late had made him. Shrewd and ambitious, yes, but not seeing ulterior motives everywhere.

The Baroness might still have them, of course, and her not knowing who he was might be an act, as a way of disarming him of the general mistrust that had come with being knighted Prince, with being made someone whom people would find a reason to either befriend or decieve, all for their own hidden purposes, and not for being someone whose company they genuinly appreciated. And her interest in music might be an act as well, or at least an intentional effort to spark his interest, and ensure that he found the two of them to have something in common. Granted, his love for music wasn't that widely known in court (or so he thought, oblivious to the fact that his two friends had just revealed that particular secret to a room full of other courtiers), but he had been tutoring the Queen in playing the harpsichord, so it was indeed possible that someone had hard of it and had quite naturally come to the conclusion that he had at least some interest in the musical field.

It wasn't a far-fetched theory; the tactics of first disarming him and then piquing his interest, so that he would open up to the idea of possible 'friendship', thus allowing the Baroness to get close to him, without ever sensing whatever threat she might pose.

However, while not a far-fetched theory per se, he couldn't help but feel, even when twisting and turning it and looking at it from every possible angle, that it might not be anything more than just what it appeared to be; the sincere actions of a young woman, newly arrived at court and without a hidden agenda. After all, stranger things had happened.

She seemed a bit taken aback by his invitation at first, apparently as surprised by it as Octavien himself was at having made it. But only delightfully so, perhaps wondering about such an unexpected gesture from a gentleman with whom she was barely acquainted, and didn't even know for a fact to be a gentleman - but not questioning it. Which was probably a good thing, as Octavien had a hard time explaining it to himself. People often said that old habits die hard, but it would seem as was the case with new ones as well; although his suspicion no longer ruled him, in this particular case, it still lingered in the back of his mind.

"I would love to", the Baroness said, initial surprise overcome, and offering that same pleasantly soft smile from before. "It would be my pleasure."

Walking together, side by side, they finally left the Grand Ballroom behind, pausing only briefly outside the doors while Octavien pulled the large ornamented caparisons shut behind them, before continuing towards the Red Salon in silent understanding, as that seemed to be the hot spot of the evening.

"I have a confession to make", Bella admitted and turned her head to look at Octavien as they slowly began to cross the large stretch of polished marble floor. "I have never been to the opera."

Looking back at her to show that he was listening, Octavien's eyebrows rose slightly in yet another look of mild surprise at such a confession. A young noblewoman, obviously raised to be a sophisticated and cultivated lady, deprived of the wonderful experience of going to the opera? Even when the musical piece itself was the most dreadful thing ever heard, it was still a most exhilirating enterprise, as regardless of what one thought about the music, the vocals and the acting, what one felt, one felt with a passion. At least to Octavien, it was impossible to leave the opera house unaffected by what he had seen, and the feeling of being emotionally and creatively alive was stronger than ever, lasting for hours, sometimes even days.
Ah, what wonders she had missed!

But, before he could launch himself into vivid regret of what she had been so cruelly deprived of, Bella herself continued, perhaps sensing his reaction and wanting to explain before he had the chance to say something, even if it wouldn't have been anything remotely bad or judgemental about her. About whoever had been in charge of her upbringing and her education; possibly. But not about her.

"I mean, I have always wanted to", she explained, having given a small, somewhat embarrassed laugh while shifting her gaze, but now turned back to look at him once again. "The opportunity simply never arose. Well, until now, of course."

Though any insecurity or self-consciousness she might have experienced at such an admission, would turn out to be uncalled for, as the only feeling spreading it's wings across Octavien's clean-cut features, was unbridled ardor. Well, as much of unbridled ardor as a young but grown man could display without looking anything like an excited child. Needless to say, it was plain to see that he was quite an avid fan of the opera.

"Then you absolutely must come", he said enthusiastically as they passed the impressive staircase, even though she had already agreed to do so. "I could spend hours trying to describe the experience, but nothing I can say will ever do it justice."


- - - - -

Meanwhile, the Marquis and Marquise had begun taking their leave of the Red Salon, both quite content with their achievement, as well as with all the praise Joséphine herself had recieved. César having pointed out that it was time for dinner, and that Joséphine, as she herself had put it, could not neglect her meals, they had bid their company a good evening, and set out for the Grand Diningroom once more. Now, they had just exited the Red Salon and stepped out into the entrance hall, where they immediately spotted Octavien leaving the Grand Ballroom, with an unknown young brunette by his side.

"Well well well", César said with a playful smirk as the couples neared eachother. "Look who's chosen to grace us mere mortals with his presence."

Having been somewhat preoccupied with talking to Bella, it was only then that Octavien noticed his two friends, and his face lit up with a wide, genuine smile.

"Ah, there they are", he said. "I've been looking for you two."

"Yes...", César said, with a sly smile stealing slowly across his lips, accompanied by meaning glance at Bella, obviously drawing his own conclusions. "So I see."

Octavien, however, pretended he didn't notice, but merely proceeded with the introductions;

"César, Joséphine, this is Baroness Isabella Devine", he said. "Baroness, meet César and Joséphine de la Valliére, the Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, two of my dearest friends."

'Hello's, 'Nice to meet you's and all other polite phrases of greeting over and done with, Octavien then continued;

"I've found myself in the mood to visit the opera this evening. Will you join me? The Baroness is coming also."




(((ooc: Ghanima & Alissa - Sorry for just going ahead like this, but considering we don't have that much time before the evening is over, I figured I'd move things along. I have, however, left room for Bella to respond to Octavien before they run into César and Joséphine, should Alissa have something to add, and the same goes for the introductions; I kept it fairly vague, so that you guys can decide for yourselves what was said.
Furthermore, as I've left it open for either of you to reply, maybe you could decide amongst yourselves who should post first? Just a suggestion, so that you don't end up cross-posting. :) And as always, any objections or changes you want made, let me know.

Fayreview - Yey! We'd be honored to have her. :D )))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Look at Dimitri go! :lol: Why does he remind me of disco Stu?
Atropa, 'tis fine, I'm okay with that. Ghanima, would you like to take it from there and I'll follow?)

[Ghanima Atreides]

César, Joséphine, Bella and Octavien - the Corridors

Time had a tendency to speed by when one was having fun, a rule no less true in the case of Joséphine and her entourage that afternoon in the Red Salon. Hidden behind heavy storm clouds, the sun's disc had since reached zenith, drawing all the light away from the sky and leaving a morose, aquamarine-grey spreading in its wake. All around them, servants scurried about inconspicuously, re-lighting candles and replacing old ones, thus maintaining the Salon's cosy, luminescent atmosphere. The passage of day and night was not something allowed to inconvenience the aristocracy.

Evening was at the door; César and Joséphine, although perfectly content where they were, knew time to retreat was nigh: not only the previously buzzing atmosphere had mellowed into a lazy hum, but more and more personages said their goodbyes and headed to dinner, something the Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan had in mind also.

Exchanging final profits and losses with their cards partners as well as parting words, the couple then made their exit, each with a fairly satisfied smile on their lips. Their walk was short lived however, and no more than a few steps down the corridor brought them face to face with Octavien who was deep into conversation with a young brunette. Exchanging a frugal glance, César and Joséphine approached in silence, until they were finally noticed by the two, César promptly expressing his first opinions on their association.

"César, Joséphine, this is Baroness Isabella Devine", the Prince said, intentionally oblivious to his friend's subtle hints "Baroness, meet César and Joséphine de la Valliére, the Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, two of my dearest friends."

“Pleased to meet you, Baroness”, Joséphine replied with an inclination of her brow, silently appraising their new acquaintance. She was young, and comely, and by the looks of it Octavien was enjoying her company. Naturally, César was already drawing conclusions, but Joséphine preferred to keep observing them. As it turned out, Octavien provided her with just the right opportunity to do so, and spend an enjoyable evening together:

"I've found myself in the mood to visit the opera this evening. Will you join me? The Baroness is coming also."

Joséphine's eyes lit up instantly at these words: the Opera, how she loved it! Both musically inclined people, Octavien and herself never missed an opportunity to visit it, least of all one they have never attended before.

“I would be more than happy to,” the Marquise responded quickly, glancing significantly at César. “It has been quite a long time since I've had the chance to enjoy the Opera, and what a wonderful opportunity to catch up on both old and new acquaintances...!” she added with a brief nod first in Octavien's direction, then Bella's.

[Alissa888]

A zealous smile grew over Octavien features as she made the confession, as if he couldn’t wait to share his enthusiasm with someone else so musically inclined. Bella could see liberal youth fill his appealing features while he thought briefly to himself. Perhaps he was looking down on her, perhaps he was not, but Bella enjoyed the infectious excitement that trickled through is being. He was most obviously passionate about music; after all, who in their right mind has never lost themselves to a tune or a few?

"Then you absolutely must come", he said reasserted with renewed fervour the great staircase came to pass. His passion regarding the matter of music matched and surpassed her own, making Bella further intrigued in the matter of Opera. "I could spend hours trying to describe the experience, but nothing I can say will ever do it justice."

She was sure that was not true as her eyes glanced up to him in admiration of his devotion. She could imagine he’d do it justice and them some for he seemed to love the art with every fibre of his being. It was a sort of veracious human ardour that further asserted his genuineness to Bella despite all her cautious nature. His company was far more compelling than anything she’d been subjected to lately.

"Well well well,” came the sound of a masculine voice as Bella looked up to a light-hearted smirk as on the face of a handsome young man with a beautiful woman at his side. "Look who's chosen to grace us mere mortals with his presence."

Octavien raised his eyesight onto the approaching couple, a young man and woman. Nobles, surely, Bella decided. As his vision acknowledged their presence, Octavien’s face eased into a soothing smile of pure sanctuary. The couple continued to approach absorbedly with the same rapport Octavien had indicated with his reaction to them.

"Ah, there they are,” Octavien said, turning to them in a welcoming stance. "I've been looking for you two."

"Yes...” the other man appeared to concede, but the wily smile that spread across his lips suggested that he thought otherwise. Bella could feel her eyebrow rise every so slightly as a subtly amused smile stole across her lips before she could take control. "So I see."

"César, Joséphine, this is Baroness Isabella Devine,” Octavien continued on, apparently oblivious. However, Bella knew he’d taken notice of it and simply chose not to respond to it. A controlled man, indeed, but one who knew and understood passion at the same time. "Baroness, meet César and Joséphine de la Valliére, the Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, two of my dearest friends."

“Pleased to meet you, Baroness,” Joséphine greeted Bella. She was striking to say the least, but her true appeal lay in an exquisitely pleasant way she had about her, some grace that had been particularly bestowed upon her. Bella could feel herself being studied by the lovely Joséphine, but it had happened in the subtle manner than most nobles fell short of. Her conduct was somewhat a contrast to César's youthful nature.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Marquise,” Bella replied with sincere smile, lightly tilting her head in a small bow, then turning to César. “And you, Marquis.”

"I've found myself in the mood to visit the opera this evening,” Octavien started to hand out his intended invitations. “Will you join me? The Baroness is coming also."

Bella almost felt the excitement trickle through Joséphine. Evidently, she also shared the apparently widespread addiction to music. Bella could tell she was likely to enjoy the company of Joséphine as much as she had enjoyed Octavien’s so far.

“I would be more than happy to,” Joséphine responded with a fleeting look at César. “It has been quite a long time since I've had the chance to enjoy the Opera, and what a wonderful opportunity to catch up on both old and new acquaintances...!”

Now, Bella anticipated to the evening even more than she had before. It looked to be a lively night and for all the light the sun had withdrawn from the skies, they could simply replace it with light-heartedness. It really was a delight to meet all of them, people she could see herself getting along with. Well, if they were anything like Octavien seemed to be. Still, a part of her refused to throw caution to the wind.

“I certainly look forward to it too,” Bella smiled at Joséphine softly with the hint of excitement escaping through her voice as she turned her eyes to Octavien.

(OOC: I hope that's all okay. Anything amiss, please say the word ;) )

[Fayreview]

((Hi guys,

I know this is so bad coming from me... but can we try to keep OCC comments to being attachments to actual posts. It just looks tidier.... And i know i'm more guilty than most of you :fallen: *blush* but hey you will have to try and be a good influence on me :evilnod: .

So just to repeat as that was a clear as mud. Please try and keep chatter to the same post as actual in character stuff as demonstrated so well by Atropa.... who I must say is among the jewels of the Baroque Court Crown. :lovestruc

Ciao

:hat: Fayre :hat: ))

[AtropaMandragora]

As introductions were made and greetings exchanged, César found himself fighting back a widening grin. Hardly surprising, neither to himself nor anyone else that knew him well, as César was the kind of person who would sometimes percieve others based more on his own personality instead of theirs, than most others would. Thus, while he left his reaction to Octavien's new-found and beautiful friend to be nothing more than a meaning look, he was obviously thinking to himself a great deal. And none of particularly pure and innocent. He didn't even give it much thought that the young Baroness did not really fit the profile of Octavien's previous 'conquests'; she could be no older than Octavien himself, and there was no ring on her finger to suggest she was married. Granted, it was a much too simplistic way of viewing Octavien's preferences, as his attraction rarely had to do with age or marital status, but he had been sent to court partly because he had been seen leaving the house of one too many married women at rather odd times at night. "One too many" being, in fact, just one altogether, as his other secret affairs might have been rumoured, but never proven as such. But, gossip always did have a tendency to grow as forceful as any hard evidence, sometimes even exceeding it, much due to something as simple as human nature.

However, not wanting to embarrass Octavien or Isabella any further - at least for now - César firmly shackled all such tendencies, and remained silent, while both women expressed their eagerness to attend the opera. César himself, on the other hand, had always been mildly impressed and interested in such things, but would still go every now and then, in order to keep up with the times, and to meet old friends and new acquaintances. The Opera and Theatre were two of the best places to be seen, as well as most popular for socializing.

And, being as restless as he was, he welcomed the opportunity to leave the Palace for a few hours, for a night out, and whatever adventures it might bring.

"Very well", he agreed.

"Splendid", said Octavien, still donning a wide, charming smile.

Ten minutes later, servants had been sent to fetch their coats and returned, orders had been given for a coach to be made ready to take them into the city and the opera, and as it pulled up outside the Palace entrance, both Octavien and César offered their arm to Bella and Joséphine, respectively, to escort them down the wide stone steps and help them into the carriage, Octavien keeping a watchful eye on Bella's reaction. For if she hadn't suspected it before, seeing the royal carriage would leave little mystery as to who he really was. And he could only hope she would forgive him his deception. From what he had seen, she seemed easygoing enough to understand, but one could never be too certain.


(((ooc: Sorry, really, REALLY rushed and crappy, but I wanted to get this reply in before I'm off to work in... about 5 minutes. Eeek! And as before, I left parts fairly open for you guys to fill in whatever you might feel was missing. Oh, and feel free to have them arrive at the opera.

Fayre - Awww. You made me blush. :D Will I be deemed an *ss-kisser if I say that if I am one of the jewels, you are the crown itself? ....... Yeah, thought so. *lol*)))

[Seiza]

((…slytherin-girl gets my internetz bbies. :lovestruc Holy baby Christ, talk about perfect blackmail pics!

Fayre: Aww, thank ye. But I’ve finished my last paper today, so I can finally reply! Dammit, nearly half the student population’s already gone home and I’m still stuck here x_x Drive home in t-8 hours!

Yes yes, I love our courtiers too. ;D Shall update myself on the Opera Gang when I get home! But I think if there’s too little time for the opera scene to really take off, could we extend tonight just a wee bit? …And does the opera group strike anyone else as a pseudo-bachelor’s party for Octavien? :lol: His last night out as a free man!))

______

He stepped back from the door, taking the chance to survey the west wing from Mercy’s end of the hallway. This was not a wing he frequented often—but if only because of the clamour outside the Palace earlier this morning, he was certain that a few rooms must have been filled, exchanged, nobles moved around in this afternoon. The way Rukov’s attention kept returning to one of the doors, even when the Duc was giving him orders, made him curious…

Surely it hadn’t been that long since his knock, yet Dimitri supposed when one had nothing to do but wait in the corridor, then even seconds could stretch themselves. Not long at all.

When the ornate wooden slab finally swung open, it was not the attendant but Mercy herself who greeted him—with an envelope straight in his hands. His fingers recognised the texture, the stiffness in the material. It was a rather elegant envelope for a bill—he supposed it was the bill, although it bore nothing but his name, written in very feminine curves—and that also made him curious. Yet, other than the brief glance he accorded the envelope, Dimitri fixed his eyes on the Baroness’ scarlet-clad form.

He had, just moments ago, considered the Red Salon one of the most aggravating colour themes to attack his senses. But, he admitted, crimson and vermillion fit a woman’s form rather well. He noted the fan clutched in her hand; he usually ignored such accessories that so many women bore, but this must have been his first time seeing Mercy bearing one.

Dimitri held the envelope in his left hand, and was correct in his assumption: the Baroness turned to him, just far enough for a hint of the perfumed fabric to scent the air between them; his right hand accepted her offered arm. He greeted her, as always, with a bow and kiss.

“Good evening, Baroness. I hope I did not make you wait long.” A typical statement, but made with a glint in grey eyes. He thought Mercy, sharp as she was, would realise the irony in his words, the amusement underlying them. “I am afraid tonight’s weather does not offer many choices for dinner. As I have dined either in the Dining Hall or my suite thus far, I shall have to defer to your judgement in this matter. Do you have a particular place in mind?”

[Fayreview]

((Certainly, for you my dear Seiza it is still three days until morning.

Here is a little exert from my word of the day callender about the word overweening:

It may be all right, sir, but I have no overweening reliance on the faith of these marquesses, or marquis, as they call themselves.

I saw it and thought of César.... because to honest I'm not sure how many people would be safe relying on him.... especially not after how some of them have treated Octavien.))

He greeted her, as always, with a bow and kiss. She smiled gently what a man, such a gentleman he the Duc d'Lorraine was ebing to HER... When he wasn't running a girl over that was. Sure Mercy hadn't quite let that go yet, but it was quite major thing really, no matter how much it made the Baroness smile.

“Good evening, Baroness. I hope I did not make you wait long.” She raised an eyebrow, to match the twinkle in his eyes... Well he was playing maybe this evening would not require so much work to stur up some fun as she had earlier thought. “I am afraid tonight’s weather does not offer many choices for dinner. As I have dined either in the Dining Hall or my suite thus far, I shall have to defer to your judgement in this matter. Do you have a particular place in mind?”

Mercy wondered how to respond and in deed what Dimitri was expecting, had he expected a simple everyday dinner? With Baroness Venn that would not be the obvious thing to expect, but who was Dimitri to pre-empt the level of work she would do? So she simply gave a light girlish laugh and handed a red umbrella to him, it had been leaning against a table in the corridor, were she had earlier placed it. "I do have some where in mind in fact." She slowly began to manouevre Dimitri through the Palace, she did so in silence, it was during this period she realised just how far Dimitri could be tweaked, pushed and pulled, clearly he had the utmost respect for women. Mercy could see this as she knew full well he had no ultimate attraction to her... yet but Mercy was sure she could get him to atleast reciprocate attraction...

They reached the Palace doors, "we shall be needing that," she indicated the umbrella, usually a man would not use one but being a gentleman he would of course hold it for her and pressumably he would also see she impled, from the sheer size of the umbrella to keep him dry also. "To the orangery!" Mercy stepped out into the rain sightly ahead of him, she wondered what his next move would be, but if he followed, as it seemed he must, he would find a table in the orangery which Mercy had "had laid out" well that would be the response if Dimitri were to ask, in truth she had indulged in some minor work before bumping into Baroness Taylor earlier. It was Mercy's turn to wait for seconds that turned to minutes in her mind. Would he see? Would he understand the slight romantic edge she had put on the evening? Or would he, as a man, continue in his slight oblivousness to the way women around him were working... However if he chose to turn her down now... simply because he realised and was scared or offended then this was over, their entire relationship, cordial friendship or more, would be finished...

((FurryPanda is Larkin still free? because Charmaine hasn't done anything really since her talk with Dimitri and i dont want to start neglecting her already...

I'd apologise for insulting the male gender but from my calculations I'm the only one here soooo....... yeah no need!))

[Alissa888]

An undoubted sense of relief filled the air when César caved in and agreed to the opera outing after brief deliberation. It seemed he had not the fervour for music that the other three thrived on. Yet, somehow, César appeared to find something else that appealed to him about the opera. Bella somehow decided it was nothing to do with the opera itself.

Finally, the servants, sent to fetch their coats, rearrived and the four found themselves ready for their outing. Both men played their parts to perfection, offering their arms to the women they accompanied as they all walked down the stairs to the courtyard. However, as the stood out in the courtyard, Bella watched as the grand royal loomed closer. She wasn't aware of any new royals arriving and as far as everyone knew, the King was still in the palace. It was an intriguing matter as to who the carriage held and what their purpose was.

The doors finally opened and to Bella's surprise, no-one ventured out of the carriage. It was a wonderment for a moment that the carriage had simply rolled into the courtyard, carrying no-one and therefore, for no apparent reason. That was when it struck Bella in almost an instant; it wasn’t delivering someone, it was picking them up. Still, there was no-one waiting out in the courtyard except César, Joséphine, Octavien and Bella herself.

She could feel the movement as Octavien naturally began to walk towards the carriage, while her arm was still entangled with his. Bella’s eyes flicked to his in a moment of realisation, her mouth must have dropped open slightly, but she could not be sure. The carriage had not been summoned by César or Joséphine and certainly not by Bella and therefore, by default, it left Octavien who had – and was obviously capable of – using the royal carriage.

Octavien. Octavien Lehance. Not Monsieur, Prince Octavien Lehance. Of course. She could have sworn the name of the knighted Prince was Silvius…? Well, obviously not, since the King had no sons and the only male member of the royal family fitting Octavien’s profile was the Prince.

God, Bella, she thought sarcastically to herself in light of her stupidity. Well done. Really. You’ve excelled yourself this time.

Of course Bella was right in thinking he was withholding something in the ballroom; he was the Prince. Worse, she had never caught on, she had simply carried on being herself and wandered dangerously close to actually trusting him. And all along, he was indulging in his little game of deception, probably silently laughing at her.

Bella had thought he was genuine. For once, someone unlike all the other members of court, that he was like her, laidback and capable of real human interaction without hidden agendas and dirty little secrets. But no. Not this time.

Still, she refused to believe she had been completely wrong about him. His countenance, passion, words and being had been so convincing, so unfeigned. It could not have all been an act, surely. She knew the look of disappointment and betrayal had seeped into her eyes, but with it was surely the look of intrigue, knowing he had reason lie.

It had not been a malicious lie. It had not been a lie, in fact, just a brief omission of truth. Why? She could not think of a reason to excuse him, simply that she was not about to accept defeat if he had set out to humiliate her by playing childish games.

Still, all through the journey to the Opera house, Bella kept her conversation mainly with the pleasant Marquise, limiting her interaction with Octavien until he had had a chance to explain himself, but remaining curteous nonetheless. She wasn’t angry, she had no reason to get angry about it; it was his identity, he could avoid it for a while if he wanted to. Still, she just wanted to know why. And perhaps in the place of anger was disappointment, that he had not felt ready to trust her over such a simple matter while she had been honestly herself with him. Would she really have behaved differently with him if she’d known he was the Knighted Prince? Probably.

But now, he was Octavien. She could not see the Prince in him, he was Octavien. Prince Octavien. Octavien, the man whose friendship would be sore thing to miss indeed, or the deceptive Prince Octavien? Bella hoped he was being himself in the ballroom and it wasn’t simply an act - that was a man she really formed a connection with. She knew she could forgive that man for his mild deception, but she needed a damn good explanation for it.

Therefore, as soon as they reached the opera house, Bella decided to give him an opportunity to give him – and herself – and opportunity to clear the air before the they had to take their seats.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” she smiled amiably at César and Joséphine, leaving an open glance at Octavien, letting him know that he had the opportunity to speak in case he felt unable to do so in the presence of his friends. “I would just like to get some air before the show begins.”

With that, Bella walked slowly towards the open veranda, knowing they had all of five minutes before they had to take their seats and hoping Octavien took the hint and followed.

(OOC: I hope that's all okay, Atropa and Ghanima. Feel free to add anything because I didn't say much about what happened. If you'd like anything changed, please let me know :) )

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Seiza - Ooooooh, Dimitri better watch it now! Last one to be a gentleman towards Mercy ended up having his life threatened. ;) Though something tells me Mercy wouldn't dare threaten him. But then again, she did threaten the Prince... Hmmmmm.... *s* Oh, and that reminds me; by doing so, she pretty much commited high treason, didn't she? Death threats and attempted murder on the King (and his family) was considered high treason and thus punishable by death? Watch out, Mercy. ;)

Fayre - *lol* Seems appropriate indeed.

And, can I just say I find it hillarious how it's César that's the rascal, but Octavien that keeps getting in trouble with the ladies? :lol:

Oh, and one more thing, just to clarify; when I said please don't shoot Octavien in the back over going to the opera, I did mean just the going to the opera part. Meaning, being seen at the opera with a young woman when he's technically engaged to be married with another, was not part of the "Octavien doing nothing wrong" part. ;) )))



The reaction of the young Baroness upon discovering who exactly it was that was escorting her towards the royal carriage, was a natural one. Having awaited it with calm but tense anticipation, Octavien had been hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst; offense, shouting, even slapping. For while one might reason that no one in their right mind would go as far as to slap the Prince - unless, of course, one happened to be Queen Isabella - Octavien had learned from experience that the reactions of women would sometimes tend to be somewhat... less than rational. Indeed, he had been slapped for far less than this.

He was relieved to learn, however, that while the string of emotions that were claiming Bella's pleasant features ranged from speechless realization to offense, to anger, to hurt, to silent disappointment, and thus were not among the ones he had been hoping for, they remained only hints of what he had been dreading. They were there, but did not manifest themselves in any actions other than that of for the most part silently ignoring him during the near hour long drive into the city. Instead she kept her words and actions mostly directed at Joséphine, which left Octavien and César to partake in another session of their usual but friendly bickering, sandwiched by more or less serious accounts from César regarding what was going on 'back home', thusly making the lack of interaction between Octavien and Bella less noticable, even if it wasn't completely so. The other couple might still have picked up on it, but if they did, they had the kind decency not to show it. And frankly, in César's case, Octavien doubted he had noticed at all. Joséphine, with her keen eyes and sharp mind, not to mention that remarkable sixth sense women seemed to have, called 'female intuition', probably had, but her husband? Doubtful. César had intentionally dulled his senses (on the surface at least) to whenever women were less than happy with him, which was why he was, on some level, still 'unaware' that Joséphine was in fact aware of his extramarital liaisons.
But then again, that dullness was usually only in effect when it came to César himself. If a woman was somehow displeased with Octavien, there was a good chance he would still bother to notice, if for no other reason than to give Octavien a hard time about it.
Still, if he did notice, he had yet to make it known, and frankly, Octavien was thankful as well as relieved as long as he didn't, for it would surely have made things awkward.

Though at the same time, Octavien really wished for an opportunity to explain himself to Bella, as all he had managed to do so far without drawing the attention of the de la Valliére's, was to offer her a small, apologetic smile, asking her not to be too angry with him, as he had meant no harm.
And much to his relief, it would seem that she noticed, and properly interpreted it, for as soon as the four of them had stepped out of the carriage and were making their way to the grand entrance of the Opera, Bella turned to the rest of them, graciously providing Octavien with a golden opportunity;

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" she said with a friendly smile for the other couple, and gave Octavien a glance he could not fail to recognize. "I would just like to get some air before the show begins."

Had it not been for Joséphine's swift intervention, César - who, judging by the now mischievous look in his eyes, had indeed noticed what was going on - might have ruined the whole thing, as he opened his mouth, clearly about to agree that they might all need a little fresh air after being cooped up in the carriage for an hour. Luckily, Joséphine knew him well enough to see it coming, and - bless her - spoke before her troublemaker of a husband could, cutting him off from any and all roads towards playfully embarrassing the other two.

For that, Octavien shot her a thankful smile and then followed Bella, though only after giving a brief "Please excuse me as well, a gentleman does not abandon his lady", just for the sake of appearances. Due to her slow, casual pace, it took him but a mere few long strides to catch up with her, and they entered the open veranda together, side by side.

"I owe you an explanation", Octavien stated the obvious while they were still both looking straight ahead, but then stopped as they reached the sturdy stone railing, and turned to face her. "It was not my intention to decieve you, Baroness. It was just that when you did not recognize my name, I did not want to humiliate you by pointing it out, even though I am aware that it is still far from known by all. I just found it so very liberating that you were among the ones that had yet to learn of it."

He paused briefly, his eyes dropping momentarily to the smooth stoney surface underneath his hand while he considered how he should continue, as he had not yet given her a reasonable explanation. Only a part of one.

"Odd and ungrateful as it may sound", he finally continued, and raised his gaze to meet with hers once more, "at the moment I am simply sick and tired of being what I am, because it was just made clear to me this morning that I am indeed a 'what', and not a 'who'; that my true loyalty matters little, as even though I have been most willing to give it, it has to still be taken and demanded as though I was not willing to give it at all."



(((ooc: Ghanima - Hope it's ok that I gm'ed Jo just a little bit. If not, let me know, and yaddi yaddi yadda. ;) )))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Fay, I think Dimitri left Charmaine with Christine, so I thought you'd like to pick up the conversation with her. But if you'd rather I continued the conversation or if you wanted have Charmaine leave and talk to Larkin, please let me know, I'm fine with it either way :)

Atropa, it's because he's such a gentleman, he can't seem to weedle out of things the way César can! :lol:
Okey dokey, I've had Bella accept things after a small implosion, and left it open in case Octavien had anything further to say on the matter. :) And also, feel free to get them back and start the opera perfomance etc. ;) )

Bella was relieved to learn that Octavien had taken her blatant hints and followed her to the veranda. However, but the quickening of her heart, she knew it wasn’t all relief, was he just about to play out the end of his elaborate trick? There was no way to tell, save for the apologetic smiles he’d given her for the past hour. That was not working as well as he had probably hoped, that was for sure.

The choking sensation at the back of her throat only seemed to get worse as his form fell by her side, making it suddenly harder to remain under control. Maybe she was partly angry after all, he had inanely deceived her. And for what? Well, this was Octavien’s chance to explain to Bella exactly what he had been thinking. It was a good thing her upbringing had comprised of practices of prolonged self-control; she dreaded to think what she could have done had she had little control over herself.

"I owe you an explanation,” Octavien made the most obvious statement in the history of conversation as the walked towards the grand stone railings.

Really, now? Bella thought to herself as they reached the railings, letting her hands grip the stone to vent her frustrations. Whatever it is, just say it and get it over with. It was very funny, well done.

Bella could feel his eyes on her, but refused to return is gaze, simply staring into the view displayed out in front of her, but ready to listen.
"It was not my intention to deceive you, Baroness. It was just that when you did not recognize my name, I did not want to humiliate you by pointing it out, even though I am aware that it is still far from known by all.”

Alright, no need to point out the fact that I am severely misinformed, Bella silently thought to herself, giving a small scoff.

“I just found it so very liberating that you were among the ones that had yet to learn of it," Octavien continued and there it was again, the realness that was so severely lack in court. Yet, the man who’d shown her briefly that courtiers were in fact, contrary to common belief, capable of such honesty, was standing here explaining and apologising for his deception. Ironic, to say the least. However, the simple admission made her turn to him, to see whether his countenance matched his words, whether he was deceiving her yet again. Bella did not want that to be the case, she wanted Octavien to be honest, this time at least. It would just be utterly ridiculous if he’d insisted on continuing that charade because that charade was far more appealing than what the illusory Prince was likely to be.

As Bella’s gaze wandered softly over him, Octavien stared intently at the stone railings, making her realise that he had more to say, more to explain. She simply waited patiently, letting him have the opportunity that she had set out to give him.

"Odd and ungrateful as it may sound,” Octavien resumed his vindication, his eyes suddenly gazing into Bella’s own. If anything, the look held sincerity. But then, it held far more than that. It had hurt and realisation. “At the moment I am simply sick and tired of being what I am, because it was just made clear to me this morning that I am indeed a 'what', and not a 'who'; that my true loyalty matters little, as even though I have been most willing to give it, it has to still be taken and demanded as though I was not willing to give it at all."

“I thought you were like me,” Bella found herself suddenly saying. Her eyes widened slightly as it took her a moment to realise that she had actually said it, making her look away momentarily. But after she had started, there was no point in not continuing. “I was honest with you, no secret agendas, simply because I thought you a kindred spirit, exasperated with these continual games and power struggles and capable of genuineness.”

She knew he knew better than to assume that anyone he met was just an innocent and Bella expected no less of the Prince. Yet, he must surely know it gets to a person. During all her time at Queen Catherine's court, Bella had been abruptly exposed to the treacherous nature of court, suddenly forced to lie and scheme in order to survive rather than advance. She expected no less in Octavien's case. It was a fate they had all resigned to and with no shame. It did not make them bad people as such, just realistic. Perhaps Bella had lost that realism that she'd strived to earn at the English court when she took a chance with Octavien despite her inner advisor?

Bella dropped her gaze from his eyes and onto the stone floor to compose herself. Then it struck her; he was trapped. The Princess was gone and he’d become a commodity. Oh, God, that was awful. To be used in negotiations and pushed around like a pawn. Bella’s eyes flicked back up to him, seeping a look of apologetic understanding, having been harsh on him and then finally appreciating his plight. Worse yet, his wife had just passed away. Now, she just felt guilty. For all the problems with her father, Bella had her own rightful stance in society; the birthright of being a Baroness. Octavien's only claim to his title lay six feet under. Of course he felt threatened.

“I – I’m sorry,” she found herself stuttering initially, looking into his eyes as conflicting thoughts wildly flew through her mind. The strength in her voice had diminished somehow, letting it drop to almost a whisper, delicate and tender in nature. “We should go back.”

Bella began to walk back to the doors and found herself thinking, was Octavien right in thinking she would have treated him differently if she had known who he was? Probably; royalty always demanded respect. On shaky ground or not, Octavien still had his title. Except Octavien had not, in fact, he’d gone as far as to not mention it at all when he could have easily put her to shame by correcting her in the first instance. He had not done that. Therefore, would Bella have treated Octavien differently if she had somehow understood his situation to begin with?

No. Her problem was not with Octavien himself, Bella realised. She liked him, she enjoyed his company. It was that – minute – deception. And after all, it wasn't as if she was likely to meet anyone who wasn't guilty of a little deception. His lies had done no real harm. He had not lied about who he was, simply what he was. And Bella knew, given her family history, that titles come and go with the wind. And Octavien, possessing perhaps one of the most respectable titles in the country, had passed up the opportunity to assert it’s importance. That deserved respect, indeed.

Bella then found herself turning to Octavien slightly as she smiled understandingly to herself. It was a smile that held empathy, forgiveness, warmth and promise all at once. She did not feel sorry for him, however. He was smart, otherwise he would not have lasted this long. Sympathy was wasted on a man who could handle himself.

"I'm sorry about before, I didn't mean to...," it became her turn to apologise as Bella looked into his eyes, ready to admit that everyone made mistakes. She was composed once again.
"I'll be honest,” she began, promising. It brought out a small laugh of amusement from her, looking down at herself; she had been honest all along anyway. “I don't care much for social restrictions. I mean, there is a time and a place for it, but not always. From what I gathered back at the hall and now, you are the same?"
Bella then moved to make a bold confession. Octavien could think what he liked of it, after all, he had decieved her to begin with. It wasn't entirely her fault she still knew him as the man she thought he was.
"I liked what I saw in you then, a charming young man – stranger, nonetheless – and I liked what I was; myself.”
"I suppose neither of us are still what we introduced ourselves as; you are not Monsieur Lehance and I am no longer Baroness Devine....,” she revealed and proceeded to explain by making it somewhat buoyant; “I bought myself a title.” She gave another small laugh with an impish shrug, more at herself for the ridiculousness of the situation, and then turned her eyes back to Octavien as seriousness joined the amiability she exuded. “…but I hope you remain the same gentleman I interrupted in that ballroom."

It was an invitation. She had not been completely wrong about him and his conduct did little to suggest any malice. Furthermore, here she was, alone in a new court and she could do with friends or amicable acquaintances at least; who better than someone whom she'd already begun to get along with? She would be careful, it was not like Bella to throw caution to the wind. Still, she could not just give up on the compelling Octavien because of his error in judgement. He had had the same suspicions as her; he had simply acted on them.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine, César + Octavien and Bella - the Opera House

Following several glum and tense days at the Palace of Light and Air, Joséphine was at last enjoying one of the better times she'd had in a long time. Morning and afternoon had gone by already, leaving her head full of pleasant memories, though somewhat dimmed by the anticipation of an excursion beyond the Palace boundaries, to the prestigious Opera House situated in the neighbouring town. And not just anyhow: her husband and one of their closest friends joined her, as well as a young Baroness who already promised to be a pleasant companion.

Smiles, laughter and conversation followed the two couples along as they descended into the Palace Main hall, pausing briefly in the garden while the Royal carriage was being manoeuvred into the proper position to admit them inside. Joséphine followed its approach keenly, a rather pleased grin stealing across her face, already picturing themselves arriving at the Opera, a jewel among all the other carriages.

César graciously assisted her along the narrow steps, and during the momentary exchanges of arms and hands, Joséphine's gaze fell dead on Bella's features and lingered there an instant longer, surprised to find them devoid of the joy that had been there only moments earlier.

During their journey, it became even more apparent that something, something recent, was the cause for the Baroness' sudden change of demeanour. Although a pleasant smile found its way on her lips once again as she launched a conversation with Joséphine, there was a certain stiffness in the way she sat, as well as a faint distracted tone in her voice, suggesting her mind was preoccupied by something else.

As they chatted casually, the Marquise's peripheral awareness hunted for clues as to the reason for this unexpected shift in Bella's mood. Before long, as he was seated next to her and opposite Joséphine, she noted Octavien's own subdued gaze, and the decidedly downwards curve of his lips that lifted whenever César approached him with one of his playful jests or comments, only to sink once more when silence fell. Adding to that the obvious lack of interaction between him and Bella, Joséphine drew the most likely conclusion: that some sort of rift had been torn between the two, for some yet unfathomable reason.

Knowing that an Opera was perhaps not the ideal place to sort out differences, the Marquise was relieved when Bella promptly fashioned her own opportunity to do so by heading off to the veranda in search of “fresh air”, casting one brief, telltale glance Octavien's way. Joséphine, who had been pleased to see them so comfortable in eachother's company before, hoped the few minutes before the performance commenced would offer enough time to resolve whatever issue there was between them. Unfortunately, for a brief, heart-racing instant, César decided to leave his apparently oblivious stance and intervene, not in the most beneficial way. Luckily, Joséphine had been watching him at the time and was able to notice her husband's eyes smoulder with pure mischief as he stepped forth, one arm arching upwards in what appeared to be the beginning of a halting gesture.

“Come along, César, let's find our seats before that entire crowd begins to queue at the entrance” Joséphine intervened, nodding towards the constant flow of elegant, bejewelled men and women which slowly filled the foyer . One of her hand searched for her husband's, hoping he would not insist going after Octavien and the Baroness. César was anything but dim, but he sometimes allowed his prankster self to get the better of him. While that sometimes had an amusing result, it was obvious that what the Prince and Baroness needed was privacy.

Much to Joséphine's relief, César conceded and they both turned away, climbing the winding marble stairs towards one of the four doors that lead into the concert hall. A short while later, after navigating the narrow aisles leading to their four reserved seats in one of the centric balconies, the Marquis and Marquise sat down and awaited the beginning of the performance. Already, the orchestra was in place, tuning their instruments, adding to the general hubbub.

“Forgive my small diversion, mon cher” Joséphine murmured in César's ear and smiled, knowing her husband would no doubt be aware of it. She hoped he would understand her reasons however.

*********


ETA ooc so it doesn't clog the thread:

Atropa - no problem, please take your time :)

Alissa - Aw thank you :D All in a day's work for Jo, lol! Though when César gets into one of his prankster moods...oh boy! :einstein :lol:))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: No problem at all, its stuff worth waiting for ;) Honestly, both of you guys are awesome writers!
Ghanima, :lol:, poor Jo, she's got the task of keeping Cesar in check, that can't be easy seeing as she's always got to be one step ahead of him!)

[Fayreview]

((Dear people so sorry for disappearing into a cloud of smoke, i will almost certainly have something up tonight but at the moment I need to get through the Unification of Germany and Organic Chemistry.

Again Sorry!

Fay))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Man, except for the opera gang, this place is really quiet... But anyway, I decided to edit in César and Jo before Octavien and Bella, to make the timeline somewhat correct.)))


On their arrival at court, César had had a bit of trouble conforming to the idea that Octavien, previously untitled and often made aware of it be César himself, was now the Prince, thus and for once outranking César by far. It had been quite the blow to César's ego, to have to bow down to a man who had been given several more or less playful gibes over the years. Although, César being César, he had found a way to deal with it, without choking on his pride in the process; by using humor and giving a bow so exaggerated for being him that those that knew him would be aware that it was part in jest, while others, whose opinion César didn't really care about, would think that he was just being obsequious. Problem of appearing proper solved, dignity and self-esteem intact.

Now, however, César would be quite willing to admit, that being one of the Prince's best friends had some real advantages. For if one was to be dragged off to the Opera, there really was no better way than to be taken there by the royal carriage; lavish beauty and such luxurious comfort that it put even the Mont-de-Marsan carriage to shame. Furthermore, it also ensured that everyone in sight witnessed the arrival at the Opera house, and made the news spread like wildfire, so that in minutes, those that had not been anywhere near the carriage on it's arrival, knew when it had pulled up outside, how it had pulled up outside, who had gotten out, in what order they had gotten out, and what they had been wearing. If there was a way more ideal to make an entrance, César had yet to learn of it.

Together, the four of them had started moving towards the entrance, some of them apparently more aware of the turning heads than others, and it wasn't long before the pretty Baroness that Octavien had brought excused herself from their company, shooting Octavien a glance in the process that could only mean she wished for him to accompany her on her little venture away from them. Either to sort out the possible differences César thought he had sensed between them - though for the life of him, he couldn't figure out when and where they had arisen, as the two seemed to have been perfectly friendly when he and Joséphine had first encountered them - or, and this made far more sense to César, the Baroness simply wished to enjoy Octavien's "company" for a moment's privacy.

And again, César being César, he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease, and so opened his mouth to have some semi-subtle hint come out. Only to be gently yet firmly cut off by his darling wife, who, apparently, didn't deem the opportunity quite right for teasing.

"Come along, César", she said, one hand running down her husband's lower arm until it found his hand, thus successfully bringing his attention from the other couple to herself. "Let's find our seats before that entire crowd begins to queue at the entrance."

With that, the right moment had passed, as the distraction had allowed Octavien and Bella enough time to move too far away for César to manage a smooth interception. And so he willingly resigned instead, and he and Joséphine started following the general flow of people up the grand marble stairs.

"Forgive my small diversion, mon cher", Joséphine whispered with a smile once they were seated and she had leant close enough for her lips to almost brush against César's ear, immediately drawing a smile from him as well.

Partly because of the tickling sensation of her breath against his ear and neck, and partly because no matter if she used it to spoil his own plans for mischief, he still very much appreciated her talent for countering his moves, simply because it was part of what kept their relationship interesting, with an ever present element of excitement and unpredictability. He so enjoyed the playful bickering and battle of the minds that it would bring.

"I'll think about it", he replied, and shot her an impish glance as though he was still deciding whether or not she was in trouble.



- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



The evening had not gone as intended. It had started out with alot of promise, with Gilles more or less kicking Octavien out of the suite where he seemed to have spent the majority of his time lately, and Octavien deciding it was indeed time he took charge of things again, and made something happen instead of having everything happen to him. It had only been a mere few days since he had lost his grip, his decisive touch, but taking back control still felt long overdue. A night at the Opera in the company of good and trustworthy friends had seemed like an ideal place to start, with an added element of freshness in the form of a new acquaintance invited along as well.

Well, talk about an idea that backfired. Instead of getting away from the drama of court, which had been part of his reason for seeking entertainment outside of Palace grounds in the first place, he had ended up right back in the middle of more drama, caused by a deed meant to prevent it. How very ironic.

Self-inflicted, yes, he was aware of that, but still very much unintentional. He had only wanted a moment to breathe, and at that point had not known that the encounter with the Baroness would turn into more than just that; an encounter, a brief one-time meeting with what had appeared to be a new arrival at court. Nor had he known then that he had been just minutes away from actually appreciating her company, let alone that he would end up inviting her to accompany him and his friends to the opera.
And in all fairness, he hadn't even really lied to her. What he had done, was to fail to mention that "monsieur" would not be considered the proper way of addressing him, in a situation where he preferred to not be properly addressed. He couldn't very well have informed her that he was none other than the Prince, and then expected her to treat him as though he was an equal, could he? Even when asked to call their superiors by their first name, people in inferior positions would often find it hard to do so, leaving said superior to have to resort to near orders just to have their wish granted.
Such turn of events would hardly have been ideal for a budding friendship. And the same could be said about the fact that very few treated royalty according to their own opinions of the people holding the titles, but instead let their actions be guided by their fear and respect for the titles themselves.

Indeed, had Octavien revealed to the Baroness Devine that he was the Prince, he would have instantly turned back into the 'what' he had tried to escape in the first place, and he would probably not have gotten to see the natural, free-spirited side of her that had intrigued him and appealed to him enough to invite her along; her, a stranger he encountered during a time in his life where he held more doubt and suspicion in his heart towards everyone, than ever before. Chances were they would have ended up merely going their seperate was as soon as they had left the Grand Ballroom, destined to remain nothing more than strangers.

It appeared, however, that the Baroness herself viewed things quite differently.

"I thought you were like me," she said, almost as soon as he fell silent, making it sound as though she had been so focused on seizing her next opportunity to speak, that she had missed most of what he had actually said.

The statement shot from her lips so fast that she even seemed surprised by it herself. Or had the change from equal to subject taken effect, and made her horrified at discovering that she had just spoken so accusingly at the Prince?
No... Maybe not, considering that despite that somewhat shocked look in her eyes, the apparent realization of just what it was that she had said, and in what tone she had said it, she kept going;

"I was honest with you, no secret agendas, simply because I thought you a kindred spirit, exasperated with these continual games and power struggles and capable of genuineness."

Octavien opened his mouth to protest, wanting to explain that was exactly why he had withheld his title from her; because with it came expectations and firmer rules of conduct than was the norm between two ordinary courtiers. The conversation would have been tainted by those rules, those crippling rules, the spontaneity ruined, torn apart simply because people tended to not be themselves around royalty, always thinking twice about what they said and did, censoring certain opinions and exaggerating others, as a way of kissing up to those that held the power to make or break them.

Yet he remained silent, realizing that while to him, saying it would not be a way to try and justify his actions, but merely explain the reasons behind them, to Bella it might sound like excuses. Therefore, he closed his mouth again, to ponder what he could possibly say instead, to better make her understand.
But, as it turned out, she was not yet done;

"I – I'm sorry," she suddenly stuttered.

Octavien wished it was a statement that would have taken him by surprise, but it wasn't. It was exactly what he had expected, and the last thing he had wanted. Here came The Change, finally. A few seconds later than anticipated, but still The Change. It colored her words as well as her demeanor, even her voice, as now it was little more than a whisper when she spoke;

"We should go back."

The last shred of what had made them equals, gone. Now, he was the Prince, she was a Baroness, and the two of them were worlds apart.

Abiding by her own words, Bella turned and started walking back towards the grand entrance, once again intent on leading the way it seemed. But this time, Octavien did not follow immediately. Instead he lingered, leaning tiredly against the stone railing on both arms and giving a defeated sigh, once again feeling the full burden on his shoulders, and for the first time, during an ever so brief moment, regretting that he had ever put honor before happiness, and married Adalita. If he hadn't, his life would have been far less complicated, and far more enjoyable. He might even have left court to find himself temporary accommodations nearby wherever it was the Queen was heading to, and stayed there in secret so that they would not have to limit themselves to letters that would have to be kept somewhat platonic in their tone, in case they would end up in the hands of someone far too nosey.
It wasn't as though the departure of a Baron, or a Comte, would have left anyone wondering anyway, whereas if the Prince left, most everyone would know to where he'd gone.

And yet, he was not about to give up his title. Not in this lifetime. He had come to court to make a name for himself, to earn a title, and with it, power and influence. For while his family was both wealthy and respected, those that held no titles tended to achieve only a very limited amount of influence, and like most young men, Octavien had wanted more. And he had achieved it. He had risen even higher than anyone, even he himself would have ever thought possible, and he was not about to give it up just because things were no longer going exactly his way. The twists and turns of fate were many, and if a passage turned out to be far too long and straight, there were other routes to be found. Or created.

That thought in mind, he straightened his back and turned to follow Bella inside, ready to play the part of Prince once again, if that was truly how she intended to treat him from now on. Apparently, she hadn't noticed that he hadn't been as quick to follow as before, but as she had maintained her slow, elegant stride, it didn't take him much longer to catch up with her than last time.

However, just as he was nearing her, she suddenly did turn to look at him, and much to his surprise, what he saw in her eyes and on her lips, was not the stiff mask of simple but impersonal cordiality, but something far more similar to what he had seen earlier, in the Ballroom; sincerity and warmth, along with... understanding? As though she had suddenly realized what had gone on inside his head and his heart when he had withheld the truth from her, without him having to say a single word, or even getting the chance to.

"I'm sorry about before", she said. "I didn't mean to... I'll be honest. I don't care much for social restrictions. I mean, there is a time and a place for it, but not always. From what I gathered back at the hall and now, you are the same?"

It sounded like a question, yet Octavien had only the chance to give slight nod before she continued;

"I liked what I saw in you then, a charming young man – stranger, nonetheless – and I liked what I was; myself. I suppose neither of us are still what we introduced ourselves as; you are not Monsieur Lahance and I am no longer Baroness Devine..."

At that, Octavien raised his eyebrows in silent question of such a statement - after all, as far as he knew, for a few more seconds, she was still a Baroness - but was soon given the answer when she explanatively added;

"I bought myself a title", she said, and then gave a soft chuckle along with a shrug, before finishing; "... but I hope you remain the same gentleman I interrupted in that ballroom."

They had now entered the magnificent building and as they begun climbing the stairs towards the upper level, Octavien once again offered his arm to Bella, so that she might support herself, should her many layers of skirts cause her any problems in doing so gracefully. In the meantime, however, he remained quiet, taking good time saying anything. But whether it was because he was reflecting on her words, carefully choosing his own, or merely waiting until the few people that along with himself and Bella were still roaming the halls, had moved out of earshot, was impossible to tell. Considering the nature of the conversation and how it had been going so far, it was likely that the reason was all of the above.
Not until they stopped outside the doors to the royal balcony, now without any of the other guests even remotely close enough to hear, did he speak, raising his hand slightly to stall the footmen by the doors from opening them.

"In the ballroom", he started, and turned to fully face Bella so that if she chose to look at him, there would be no shadows or angles to obscure the expression on his face, "... I was the 'who' I desire to be, and not the 'what' I have been made into."

Deciding those words spoke for themselves, and sufficently covered what needed to be said, he then gestured for the two footmen to open the doors, and with a gentle sweeping motion invited Bella to be the first of them to enter and join César and Joséphine.

"Ah, there you are", said César, sitting casually and comfortably slumped in his chair, looking as though he was just about ready to put his feet up on the ornamented and gilded wood railing infront of him, and tilted his head back to look at the two of them. "We were beginning to wonder if we were to suffer through this without you."

At that, Octavien simply gave a faint but amused smile, knowing that while opera wasn't one of César's favorite things, he didn't really think it as bad as he made it out to be.
Still keeping his hand to Bella's disposal, he remained standing until she had sat down, and only then did he sit himself.

"What are we seeing, anyway?" César asked from the opposite side of the balcony, stealing Joséphine's hand away from the armrest on which it had been gingerly placed, and bringing it to his lips in a sudden, impulsive sign of affection.

"'Isis'", Octavien replied, smiling to himself at the thought of seeing yet another product of the mind of his favorite composer. "By Lully."

"Ah", said César, managing with that simple word to come across as though it actually told him something, and at the same time, sounding completely clueless.


(((ooc: Hope this gives you guys something to reply to? I intentionally left a gap between César's last line before the other two enter, in case Ghanima wants Jo to have the chance to say or do something first. And if you guys want to add something somewhere in there, go right on ahead.)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: I'd post something but ME is kind of just sitting around being moody and eating dinner :P Everyone's kind of involved in their own other things right now. And sorry if this is spammy Fayre, just didn't want anyone to think I was purposely being non active. I am working on something for when morning comes if that's worth anything.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

César, Joséphine, Octavien and Bella - the Opera

Joséphine knew that, if not careful, she risked instigating César's mischievous streak with her attempt – and a successful one for the moment at least– to foil whichever plan was forming inside that cunning mind of his. Usually, she would rather leave him to it, watch him get his satisfaction from the result of his game or, not uncommonly, find herself on the opposing side of it. That time however, intuition warned against it: there was something tense in the air surrounding Octavien and Baroness Devine, something that convinced her that they really needed a moment alone. Knowing César a little, he probably interpreted their desire for privacy as something...different.

And he was not about to give up that easily.

"I'll think about it", he replied thoughtfully to her earlier comment, curving his lips into a sly smile, to which Joséphine gave a look of feigned concern, followed quickly by a smile of her own:

“You will thank me later”, she whispered and retrieved a finely decorated fan from inside her coat, its foremost edge barely covering a less than innocent smirk. All around them, sound was dying out as the spectators were preparing themselves for the beginning of the show. Isis, by Lully, Joséphine recalled reading down in the foyer.

“If they do not hurry, they will miss the first act” she said, craning her neck towards the nearest doors for any sign of Octavien and Bella.

Fortunately, not a minute later they both made their way inside and approached the balcony arm in arm. Behind her fluttering fan, Joséphine's eyes keenly searched their features, thinking they both looked far more content than before. Perhaps that was the end of that, after all, although curiosity begged the question of what exactly had been the matter.

A few more comments were exchanged, César as usual appearing to be oblivious when he truly wasn't, while scooping up Joséphine's hand and bestowing a swift kiss on her knuckles. The Marquise shot him a brief smile before lights were extinguished and the first musical accords replaced the silence. On stage, costumed performers emerged from behind the raised curtains, lending their voices to the harmony.

For the following hour or so, Joséphine's attention was dedicated to the musical display before her, paying little attention to her other surroundings: a spectacle such as the Opera always brought her in a sort of a trance, where everything else was a distraction. One could not truly enjoy the music if they were preoccupied by other matters.

At last, with a final tour de force, singers and orchestra alike sounded the last note and the entire audience exploded in a flurry of vigorous applause. Joséphine, too, clapped her tiny hands together with genuine admiration – the performance had been most pleasant. Not the best she had ever seen, no, but a most excellent effort.

A little while later, as the two couples descended the marble staircases into the gilded foyer, discussing details of the performance they had just seen, the question of supper arose. After all, neither César nor Joséphine had eaten and both felt famished, and as it turned out, Octavien and Bella were in the same situation.

“Perhaps we can arrange something together?” Joséphine suggested, glancing from one face to another.

((ooc: Sorry, kind of rushed. I hope this works for everyone, including what I said about their conversation? Let me know if not, I wanted to move things forward a little faster, even if we have to move on to morning and mention dinner in their later posts))

[Seiza]

((Fayre: Thanks for being so patient with me! T_T *tackle-hugs* Finally got settled down at home, so even if I wrestle for the PC with my bro, I should be on more frequently now!))

______

Instead of her arm, the Baroness handed him… an umbrella.

In the moment he had taken to stare at the item in dumbfounded silence, she was far ahead. With his hands full, Dimitri could not stop her with anything but words. He only called once; he would not be so witless as to call constantly. If she did not hear him now, it meant that she chose not to—and Mercy certainly was choosing not to. As amusing as it would be to stop at the west wing and force her to return, it seemed he had a much deeper patience… or tolerance… or something… with women—because he followed. And, he supposed, as Mercy ignored the main entrance to take a path through the palace, he was curious too.

Then she walked straight into the rain, and he was aghast. They were at one of the palace’s back exits: the orangery hid behind a misty curtain further west, in front of treetops barely bent under the light rain. Done with following from behind, Dimitri opened her umbrella and caught the Baroness in a few strides. He wished to reprimand her for such recklessness—her dress was not exactly prime clothing for gallivanting in such weather—but Mercy looked so knowledgeable, so aware that she was walking uncloaked through night rain and squelching mud, that he only grumbled noncommittally.

By the time they reached the orangery, he had removed his navy cloak with one hand and draped it over the Baroness’ shoulders.

Most of their walk had been in silence since they left the west wing, but it had been a congenial silence tinged with her mischief and his exasperation. Upon laying eyes on the table in the midst of candlelight and flowers, a new silence fell over them: it laid itself over their heads and shoulders, longer and thicker and heavier. She was not looking at him, yet he could still feel the expectation for a reaction—not “breathless anticipation” or anything like that; such phrases did not fit people like him or people like her—but she was waiting for… something.

So was he. But when no answer willingly threw itself into his lap, Dimitri realised he would have to find his own.

He led the Baroness to the table. Seated her. Most of the dampness was in his coat; so he removed that from her shoulders too, folding it over an empty chair. He stood behind her. Just a moment. Her hair was lightly sprinkled by the rain. It glistened against the candlelight. He sat down before her.

His tone was exceedingly gentle. “This is… very kind of you, Baroness. It must have taken quite a while to prepare.”

He would not say that she shouldn’t have gone to such trouble, because she did, and it looked splendid, and he would not patronise her so. But despite being on land, the ocean floor was pulled from him, and his eyes latched on to anything—anything but hers; there was a half-finished flower arrangement behind her that would do—to keep him afloat.

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Ghanima - I thought they WERE at the Paris Opera? It's never been mentioned officially, but for the past two threads, the court has appeared (to me at least) much like the French one. Not that it matters a whole lot, but... yeah.... :) )))

[Fayreview]

((I suppose technically yes Atropa my darling Mercy DID. But I hardly think either of us is planning on letting the King know ;)

Seiza amazing... but I shall return this eveing and do everything I should have done already as then i have a day and a half until my next exam.

And just a quick question evening should have ended a LONG time ago... but I don't mind as long as nobody else does. Let me know!

Fayre))

[Alissa888]

Bella and Octavien had returned to César and Joséphine just in time to witness the beginning of the performances. The thick, lush curtain finally rose, revealing an array of performers to add to the orchestra, each of them bestowed with immense talent. As time progressed, quickly, yet enough to savour each moment and each note, the melodies became more pronounced, gathering more momentum and feeling.

"In the ballroom,” Octavien had said before they entered the balcony, turning to face her fully as if he wished to hold no screens over his expression. "... I was the 'who' I desire to be, and not the 'what' I have been made into."

Bella had had no words to respond to that, simply an acknowledging smile. Her ease and comfort in Octavien’s company had been present at the beginning of the evening, but then faltered when she had realised who he was. Now, given explanation, it had returned with renewed fervour. However, all that flew through her mind in a space of a few moments before the opera fully delved into itself. Through the performances, Bella was far too enthralled to even steal a moment away from arduously watching the stage, almost tasting every tone. She knew she must have looked like a mesmerised child, but she had little time to worry about that.

As the performances ended, Bella found herself at one with the daze, clapping in appreciation of the pure delight it had brought her. Octavien had been right, it was inexplicable and Bella secretly wondered what her guardians had been doing all those years, depriving her of the opera. She turned her head to witness Joséphine in the same sort of thrall, glad to know she wasn’t the only one addicted to the passions of music, smiling uncontrollably at the flushing charisma of it all.

In fact, Bella’s dedication had been so pronounced that she had not realised that she had not eaten until the Joséphine had the considerateness to ask, revealing that she herself, and César found themselves in the same predicament. Bella soon discovered that Octavien was no exception to the group, making it a good point to consider their next options.

“Perhaps we can arrange something together?” Joséphine proposed, her pleasant features arranged in question, looking at each of them in turn.

“That is a splendid idea,” Bella conceded heartily, coming to a standstill in the foyer and then turned to the men with an encouraging look. Joséphine had come up with the idea to have a meal together, Bella had no idea where to go and it was Octavien and César’s turn for input. “Any ideas? It is getting quite late.”

((OOC: sorry for the shortness and crapness of that!)

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Actually, I had no idea where exactly they are, in relation to real life places, but I guess it does make sense :) I edited it out.))

[Alissa888]

((OOC: Aw, poor baby! *offers comfort cookie* Take all the time you need. I really should be working *is guilty*
Fay, when you said Mercy had made herself immune, you did mean that she'd done so by keeping everyone's secrets and not just because she's one of the integral characters, right?))

Slytherin-girl - Are you still in the Red Salon? Christine and Charmaine are also up there, I think? So you can have ME join them? Or Fay, if you've already had Charmaine leave to talk to Larkin, I can have Christine meet ME? Or everyone can meet everyone? FurryPanda, where's Larkin at the moment?

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Like Atropa said, I wouldn't mind moving along asap. cause I'm not really doing anything right now. ME is just emoing around eating dinner, so I will say she's gone back to her rooms and gone to bed)))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Yey, I made it! It's short and rushed, but at least it's something. :)
Oh, and Ghanima/Alissa, everything sounded just fine to me.
Alissa - Aww, thanks. When I get home tomorrow morning, I have the rest of the day off, as well as Thursday. Man am I going to sleeeeeeep. *lol* )))


Much like the two ladies of the quartet, when the music started and the curtains rose, Octavien found himself completely captivated by the story that unfolded before his eyes. It had been a while since last he had attended the opera, despite it being one of his favorite ways to spend an evening. Life at court had simply been too hectic lately, and back when he had still been a new addition to life at the Palace, he hadn't yet befriended anyone with whom he felt comfortable enough to go.

Hopefully, César and Joséphine would make their visit a long one, and the Baroness would turn out to be just as pleasant and good-natured as she had seemed so far, ensuring many more evenings of good company and enjoyment, perhaps even several more visits to the Opera. For judging by the looks on the ladies faces, they had both enjoyed 'Isis' just as much as Octavien himself. In Joséphine's case, he'd had a good inclination that she would, avid fan of the opera that she was. But Bella... Things had been a bit more uncertain where she was concerned. She had expressed a passion for music similar to Octavien's own, back in the Grand Ballroom, but because of his ever present suspicion, he had been unsure of whether or not she was being truthful, or had known who he was despite acting otherwise, and just trying, for some reason, to befriend him. Therefor, he had glanced over at her every now and then during the course of the performance, and had been delighted to see the spellbound look on her face, as it alone showed a genuine appreciation for what she was just witnessing for the first time. And when she stood up along with the rest, once the last act was over, and applauded as fervently as the most ardent opera enthusiast, all doubts regarding her passion for music were laid to rest. Such zeal simply could not be feigned.

César, on the other hand, appeared to be only relieved that it was all over. Always the restless one, he had spent the majority of the performance fidgeting in his seat, picking at the ruffles of his shirt, and studying just about everything but the performance itself; the decor, the seat, the rest of the crowd, Joséphine...
In many ways, he reminded Octavien of a small, bored child.

With the performance having ended, and the four of them making their way back down to the foyer, however, his usually charming side reappeared, along with his enthusiasm when the subject of eating was brought up. He declared himself to be 'simply starving'.

"Perhaps we can arrange something together?" Joséphine said; a suggestion that clearly won the approval of the others, as it seemed that even though to most the evening would have been drawing to a close, the four of them didn't wish it to end just yet.

"That is a splendid idea," Bella agreed, and they all came to a halt in the lavish foyer, in order to decide on an arragement, right in the middle of the crowd of people streaming past them on their way outside. "Any ideas? It is getting quite late."

The question was quite clearly directed at César and Octavien, as both of the young women seemed to be looking expectantly to the two of them; something that in turn caused the two of them to look at one another.

"Why don't we all go back to my suite," Octavien suggested after a few moments, "and we can dine there?"

Questioning looks were briefly exchanged once again, to see if anyone had objections or other suggestions, before three heads nodded in agreement. A late supper in the Prince's suite sounded to them like a marvellous idea, not to mention a privilege.

When the carriage rolled to a slow stop, delivering the young party of four safely to the very same spot where it had picked them up hours ago, it was nearly midnight, and it seemed most of the Palace inhabitants had retired to their suites quite a while ago. The Prince and his friends did their best to be quiet, but in a large, deserted Palace entrance, even the tiniest sound seemed to amplify tenfold, and faint echoes of their voices and their laughter bounced between the walls, following them up the stairs and through the upper and equally large hallway, until it was all abruptly cut off when the doors to Octaviens suite closed behind them.

"Gilles", Octavien greeted his aging but still very much awake manservant. "Would you please have some food brought up for the four of us? Neither of us have eaten all evening, and we are simply famished."

"Of course, Your Highness", Gilles gave a bow. "Right away."

Then, after greeting Octavien's guest with another bow, he swiftly made his exit, to see to his young master's request.

"Please", Octavien said, making a sweeping motion towards the various furniture of the room. "Make yourselves comfortable."



(((ooc: I think this could possibly serve as a wrap-up post, if we are to move on? Though should Ghanima and/or Alissa want to/have the chance to get something in before we progress, that would of course do the trick as well.

Alissa - I would say the question is rather 'where is Furry at the moment'? Not a peep in days. And the same goes for Elektra... )))

[Fayreview]

Mercy was now holding her breath, waiting for something to go wrong, to mess it all up but he opened her umbrella and walked to catch her up, there was silence but through the rain she just about made out some grumble coming from Dimitri she smiled, men always had something to say... But unlike with her ex-husband he was actually rather attractive when he grumbled incoherently. He move slightly, she watched his out of the corner of her eye, he had removed his coloured cloak single handedly and had managed to cover her from the shoulders down in navy fabric, she was actually tempted to keep the cloak, she felt like a young girl dressed in a slim red dress with a cloak, it was almost like a fairy tale... for a woman of fourty-something...

They reached they orangery, she had said nothing and he had been pushed into silence by that fact and her apparent confidence in silence, I was a ploy, Mercy knew her best chance was not to explain but just to let him find out and was too polite to challenge her in that matter, as they entered the orangery the mood changed, her confidence once again ebbed, he had yet another chance to change his way of acting or take the risk. She knew the room had looked near perfect when she had left earlier put now she was picking out the minutiea of the room in true Obsessive fashion.

She didn't look at him but waited for a response, the air was heavy and humid her breath felt even more so, he did not speak but lead her to table gently, and pulled her chair out, and in true gentlemanly fashion seated her, removed and removed his wet cloak he paused for the briefest of moments before moving aroung the table to look in her direction, not at her, but in her direction, he sat. And spoke oh so gently. “This is… very kind of you, Baroness. It must have taken quite a while to prepare.” The eyes continued to look beyond her, Dimitri was different, the change was slight but it was there...

She spoke hesitantly at first "if it did..." but soon managed to return her voice to almost her normal level of confidence "then it was worth it." the atmosphere in the room was still heavy she could hardly bear it herself, so she followed it up with a laugh, not a girlish titter but a proper laugh, it was nice to feel slightly less false, this was not a severe problem for Mercy who had ways of giving herself freedom from some class rules but it was still nice to let it slip even just a little. Mercy shifted slightly, the gold chain on her left wrist glinted in the candle light, the solid gold band had been excellently polished and the four small red stones and four small white pearls glistened also, it was cool on her wrist, the only part of her that was cool, the only part of her that reminded she was in France and not in some distant tropical land, however perhaps that distant land would be easier to deal with than this...

((Atropa I understand but I think Mercy is also pretty confident it wont happen!

Allissa Mercy has made herself immune by keeping secrets which is why she can be an integral character so a little of both!

And as I'm going out now (sorry) 17 hours until Morning will be finally called, I shall check in with FurryPanda shortly.))

[Fayreview]

((OK, can I press my point about OCC comments again, I make it 6 hours 'til morning now, I'd do it now if I had the time....

But whilst Mercy SHOULD be scared for Isabella, Octavien can't exactly tell anyone why she was threatening him without implictacting himself and Isabella also, so whilst Mercy, would indeed never say anything because she cared for Isabella (if she thought it through which I must say she still hasn't...) there is no way Octavien would either, unless he was feeling rather suicidal... hense Mercy is not fearful. Believe me I am not trying to stop Mercy getting hurt/threatened along the way... as you may soon see... Hehe I shall say no more BUT in fact you may find she'll regret what she did to Octavien then...

Finally I hardly think Edouard is going to kill the woman who brought his wifes infidelity to light... that just wouldn't be good business would it?

*EDIT* I have checked it over and can find no source to suggest you can commit treason against a Prince only the sovereign, or in the case of petit treason murdering your social superior, but that only applies to murder... however I shall admit I have only searched for 5 minutes and shall check again when doing my morning post later today))

[Fayreview]

((Yes Atropa it would have been but sadly, it can't some to fruition as Mercy, I and you see it from very different angles, :banana: plus with a man as weak minded as Edouard I'm sure that if Dimitri were to as Edouard to hear Mercy out he would, after all that is the whole premise of his character, i.e. beinging in need of direction, and of course as I brought to light in our PMs Mercy herself does not recognise Octavien as having a claim to the throne and so through her own train of thought, again would have no reason to call it treason! (Yay that rhymes :D)

Anyway off the point of Mercy being totally oblivious to the minds of everyone else (including myself) I am now going to launch into the business of the post for morning!

Feel free to wrap up your evenings in your early posts!

I would also like to add that a weather report will be given during my morning posts outlining how the day will shape up, this is to stop any confussion on the matter if anyone has a problem with the days weather for a reason feel free to PM me and ask for a change!))

It was a bright morning as a lazy sun rose slowly on the new day, spring was in the air, daffodils and other seasonal blooms were showing their heads, Edouard rose and dressed earlier than usual, he was dressed even finer than usual in bright whites and rich golds. This morning he would take the platform in front of his courtiers alone, the Prince would not be joining him today on Edouards insturction, delievered by his manservant, Alfred, the note suggested that he had some changes to make and wanted to give them a more personal touch.

He stood there looking out at his nobles, the new and the old, friends of his wife, aquaintances of his daughter, and the ones he himself trusted.

"Good morning Loyal Courtiers." His tone was clear, important and intelligent, much like Edouard himself.

"I have many things to discuss with you, first of all Monsieur Benedetti informs me that refurbishments have finally finished and the new suite of offices have opened here at the Baroque court, and anyone wishing to obtain use of one of these offices should speak to him," Edouard sighed gently good news was always a good way to begin the day.

"Next I would like to make you aware of the presense of my wifes paternal uncle at our court. He shall be her representative here until further notice," he indicated to Larkin with one hand.

"I would also like to bequeath two honours to two Baronesses," he indicated for the two women to walk on stage.

"Please greet Comtesse Isabella Devine and Comtesse Mercy Venn both of these women have been promoted due to excelelnt services to their Country, Court, and King." Polite applause was recieved for the two women, who stood beaming upon the platform until Edouard nodded to convey they should step down.

"In other news two more social rooms have been added to the court on the upper floor, these however are limited access, Access to the Rotherham rooms is a sign of my trust and access to the de Mollier offices is a sign of my highest esteem." He paused and inhaled deeply. "I would therefore like to grant access to these rooms to the following courtiers."

"Duc d'Lorraine please make use of the Rotherham rooms and the de Mollier offices as you so wish, your loyalty is much appreciated."

"Family is important at this time even more so than usual and so the Prince and Baron Larkin d'Marius are both to be granted access to the Rotherham rooms as will our new Comtesse Mercy Venn for her loyalty and friendship to the Queen."

"With that my business is finished, I shall only make you aware of the iminent arrival of an esteemed guest from Spain, Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre treat her well and show her the true colours of the Baroque court. And so I bid you good day and ask that you seek to enjoy whatever endeavours you take part in."

((As I did not ask for suggestions before making this post I ask each of you Seiza and FurryPanda to invite one person to join you in the room to which you have the power to grant access (I would request it is a person whom has not had any access already granted today, but it IS your choice) after a person has been admitted to each then it will have to be done via suggestions to the King.))

[Slytherin-Girl]

The previous night had proved to be one of the most boring and depressing Marie-Elisabeth had had in a long time. She had been seated at dinner between a man that had to be even older than Charles would have been if he were still alive and another who was easily four times her weight and appeared to be allergic to soap. The only time she could remember a more boring dinner was when Charles’ family had come over and she was forced to be seated between his two ridiculously boring brothers Chadwick and Chauncey.

She had escaped from the dining room as soon as politeness had allowed and hurried back to her suite to go to bed. She couldn’t stand another minute of the awful company and going to sleep was better than sitting around and feeling suffocated.

The next day dawn had come and gone hours beforehand, and Marie-Elisabeth had yet to leave her rooms. And she didn’t have plans to anytime soon. She had missed the morning announcements but she just didn’t feel up to getting out of bed. She felt completely miserable and was still curled up inside the covers, with the drapes pulled shut tightly around her to prevent the sun from coming inside. Her depressive state of mind hadn’t abated with the dismissal of the rainy weather, which reminded her of so many unfortunate things. She had spent most of the night having dreams about her father’s death, which had the obvious effect on her.

Marie-Elisabeth had been so young when he passed away, and she had been so attached to him it had devastated her perhaps more than any of her other siblings when he died. As the youngest, and arguably prettiest, girl she had been her father’s well acknowledged favourite.

Francis de Normandie wasn’t one for the running of the household and preferred to leave such duties to his formidable wife who was more than happy to take the reigns. So he would often be found being lead around somewhere by his tiniest daughter, or out horseback riding with her sitting in his lap. There hadn’t been anything Marie-Elisabeth had ever asked him for that he hadn’t granted her and she had genuinely adored him in return. It got to the point that if anyone ever came to the family’s residence looking for him, that whoever they asked would just say “Just look for little Lisabeth and you’ll find him”. After he died she had refused to speak to anyone for weeks and just sat silently holding onto the small lapdog he had given her.

With thoughts like that swirling around in her mind, Marie-Elisabeth was perfectly content to stay in bed and be miserable as long as was possible. But her solitude was soon broken by the timid voice of her maid. “Madame, are you awake”.

“No” she muttered, pulling the blankets up over her disorganized mess of long blonde hair “Please leave me be”. “But you have a note Madame, and there’s a rather fancy seal on it, so it looks rather important”. Marie-Elisabeth sighed and pulled the blankets off of her head, shifting on the bed to stick a night gowned arm out from the curtains. “Give it here then” she said, as the letter was placed in her hand which darted back inside the curtains.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and cracked open the seal on the note, seeing that it did indeed look important.

Dear Comtesse de Valois

If this morning does not find you otherwise engaged, would you do me the honor of granting me a moment of your company? Perhaps over morning tea in your suite? We never did get to finish our theological discussion the other day...

Cordialement à vous,
César de la Valliére

If it had been yesterday morning that she had gotten the note, she probably would have been more thrilled and excited about it. But given her current state of mind all she could think was. “Wonderful, his wife’s probably managed to convince him not to talk to me ever again and he’s trying to find a polite way to tell me to leave him alone”. She sighed and figured it probably was time for her to get out of bed; she’d just have to ignore feeling miserable and hope her headache went away.

“Fetch me my writing materials, I need to write something back” she called, folding the note back up “And get my things ready, it’s about time I got up”.

She sighed and yanked the bed curtains back before sliding out of bed. Her nightgown pooled around her feet as she stretched and her maid Jeanne approached her with a curtsey. “What dress would you like me to fetch for you Madame” she asked “Perhaps the pink one with that pretty trim? It always looks lovely”.

“No, I don’t want that one” Marie-Elisabeth replied, lowering her arms and walking over to her vanity, placing the note down on it “I’ll have the white gown (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/dress-2.jpg) , with the fur”. “The higher necked one, with the lace round the throat Madame?” questioned Jeanne. “Yes, I don’t have to be in the mood for fancy things all the time” she snapped and the maid curtseyed and hurried out.

While she was gone, Marie-Elisabeth pulled her necklace out and fastened it around her neck, saying a silent good morning to her son. The maid came back quickly and it managed not to take very long for Marie-Elisabeth to get dressed. This was mostly due to the simplicity of the gown she had chosen. For her hair she decided to do something just as simple. She had no desire to sit there for another hour and have her hair curled, and so it was simply pulled back off her face with a black silk ribbon (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/hairribbon.jpg) .

Thus finished with her toilette and dressing, she asked the maid to arrange for morning tea to be sent to her rooms. After slipping her feet into a pair of shoes, she sat back down to write a quick note in response. “May as well get this over with now” she thought, as she began to write.

Dear Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan,

I am not otherwise engaged this morning, so I would love to see you for tea. I have felt rather under the weather this morning, so it would be nice to have someone inform me of what has happened in my absence. I shall await you here.

Cordialement à vous,
Marie-Elisabeth de Valois

Finished with her note, she sealed it up and handed it to another maid to have it sent off. She could hear the rattling of china in the other room that told her that the tea she requested had arrived. She stood up and walked into the other room, settling herself down on one of the chairs to pour herself a cup of tea and wait.




(((OOC: I’m going to sort of go by the type of rooms show in Marie-Antoinette. There’s the bedroom part where ME actually sleeps, gets dressed etc, and then there’s the other more public room, like where Marie-Antoinette was always meeting with Count Mercy. That’s the one I mean Marie-Elisabeth in right now)))

[Fayreview]

((You know what, I don't think I can handle this anymore either. I have exams to revise for and a funeral to deal with and I made a mistake accepting this position, so i shall leave it to you, the remaining courtiers to decide whether you want this rolplay to continue or not and shall do whatever i can to aid a transition to yet another roleplay host, or to give this thread a fitting good bye. I hate to say it but i think I was right in what i said to shenan weeks ago, I do need to leave S2C.))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Okay, I just wanted to say that, everyhing else notwithstanding, I think that people have invested a lot of time and creativity into what is one of the best written RPs on this board and to make sure it doesn't perish I am willing to offer my help in keeping it alive.

[Alissa888]

Okay, let's all just take a moment to breathe. I agree with Ghanima, this is probably one of the best written RPs - if not the best - on S2C, I don't want to see it perish over this.
Fay, it really isn't fair to keep Mercy so protected. She's a courtier, she's a step down from Octavien and she really should take that into account. I mean, fair enough, she has tabs on him, but when it comes down to it, she does have to act like a courtier (she doesn't know she's protected). I think that was the main problem here, right?
When it comes down to it, guys, this is an awesome RP, I'm sure I'm not the only one who wants to see it live. Let's just sort it out, we can do this.

[Fayreview]

((This RP does not have to close, but Mercy has finished her time, I am not capable of this position and leading my life is a litle to complex, i have exams, my grandfather has offcially announced he is "waiting to die" and I have a funeral friday so what ever you need to do as a collective to keep this thread alive I will paly along with but Mercy will be returning with her sister to England and that will be her, and my end.))

[Fayreview]

I'm glad your staying, i have a feeling your presense will keep this roleplay ticking over.

But yes I am leaving, I feel the people in my life need and deserve my attention, so if you would like to agree on a new host and provide me with a message detailing anything I can do to help transtition I will comply whole-heartedly.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: I PMed Seiza about the whole thing, since she as the remaining host needs to have her own say in the whole thing...but pending her reply, Atropa and I agreed that the best way to keep this RP afloat is by posting. So, that's what I'm here for :D))

Joséphine - Sneaking into the Palace Gardens (not approachable at this time)

The previous evening....

An invitation into one of the royal apartments was a sign of recognition and respect few courtiers could boast. Indeed, even Joséphine, who had known Octavien for years, received his proposal for supper in his suite with a twinge of surprise: after all, he was no longer “just” Octavien, but Prince Octavien Lahance, and his actions were reflected in everyone's minds. Equally, it felt reassuring to be able to spend an evening together as they all had in the old days, with the one difference that Octavien now outranked her and César, instead of the other way around. Joséphine gleefully discovered the rest to be unchanged.

The group found the Palace immersed in silence, which only served to amplify their movements around its many rooms and corridors which had to be crossed until the gilded doors which lead to Octavien's suite emerged into view.

"Please", Octavien invited after having instructed his manservant to bring them dinner "Make yourselves comfortable."

Luxury had been lavished upon most of the Palace's interior, and the Prince's suite constituted a perfect mix of extravagance and comfort that went a step beyond anything Joséphine had witnessed thus far. She gazed around it with open admiration, gazing pointedly at their new acquaintance, Bella, wanting to see if the other woman found it just as impressive. As for César, who had presumably been there before, just made himself comfortable by slumping in one of the many armchairs.

Some twenty minutes later, four servants laden with trays of food and drink walked in and deposited them on the largest table available, before retreating with a bow. The aromas stirred Joséphine's hunger almost painfully, reminding her how many hours had passed since her last meal, not without a grain of guilt – if a tiny life was indeed developing inside her, she would have to be more responsible, miscarriage was a very real danger especially at that stage of a pregnancy.

At last, seated face-to-face around the finely polished table, the two couples could begin a long awaited and delicious meal.

***

César and Joséphine reached the privacy of their own suite three hours later, comfortably satiated and sluggish under the weight of sleep and the few glasses of wine they had drank. Not wanting anything more than curl up between the sheets and close her eyes, Joséphine found herself interrupted by César, who appeared to have had a nightly brainstorm and insisted on sharing his idea with her. Joséphine reluctantly positioned herself into a half-seated, half lying position against a pillow and awaited: much like the Red Salon recital, César's plan aimed to place Octavien in a favourable light and ensure as many courtiers as possible saw it. Listening to his more than unorthodox suggestions, Joséphine's eyes lit up at first apprehensively, growing increasingly focused with approval, and finally agreement, sleep momentarily banished from her mind. They spent the next half an hour or so refining their strategy, before finally succumbing to exhaustion in the early hours of morning.




The following morning...


When Joséphine opened her eyes, she was unsurprised to find the room flooded with sunlight. Following such a busy day and late night, she had anticipated sleeping through most of the morning. What she had not anticipated however was finding César already gone. Fearing she might have missed their agreed meeting time, Joséphine glanced at the ornate table clock at her side, but there was more than one hour left. Odd, very odd indeed. Perhaps he had gone out early to intercept Octavien before he had a chance to leave his chambers, she mused, although such early morning dedication was unusual for César, plan or no plan.

Nearly an hour later, Joséphine was fully dressed and coiffed, ready to leave the suite. A small, fashionable hat sat perched on top of her curls, a delicate thing adorned with lace and ribbons. The accessory wasn't coincidental, and in fact it was destined to play a part in the future developments. With hurried steps, the Marquise descended the staircase into the main Palace hall, determined to reach her agreed post before César and Octavien had a chance to bypass her. Quickly and as casually as possibly, she emerged into the gardens, pleased to find the weather much more pleasant than the previous days. Indeed, many courtiers were already out and about, taking advantage of spring's first warm morning – that would only prove beneficial for them.

Joséphine paused between a cluster of trees and bushes that hid her from view and waited, eyes focused on the Palace entrance.

[funheart00]

((ooc;; I'm definately here to help too, if anybody needs it. I'll definately try and get a post up tonight aswell, as it sounds like the best way to try and keep everything going ;) .. but so much drama that could've been solved :())

[AtropaMandragora]

The Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, most of his friends and acquaintances had learned, was in many ways unlike most others. Sleeping peacefully when most were hurrying off to mass, encouraging his daughters' adventurous streaks when most would have reprimanded their own that little girls should not be running about and dirtying their pretty dresses, and subtly leering when most were trying their darndest to keep their dislike carefully hidden. He spoke his mind, sometimes with the kind of finespun edge that would leave many wondering if they had just been complimented or insulted, and sometimes he would be downright blunt, almost cruelly so.

So then, to most that knew him it would come as no surprise that instead of feeling comfortably exhausted by an eventful day, or even tired, César could be no further from wanting to go to bed, once he and Joséphine returned to their suite during the early, early morning hours. The evening of good company, tolerable music, good food, and, not to be forgotten, good wine, had delivered him into a creative flow, a rush of energy that refused to let the thought of unwinding even enter his mind. And much like the past night, who was once again made to suffer the consequences of his inability to fall asleep, if not poor Joséphine. César bombarded her with this one idea, one out of quite a few, that had presented itself to him during the course of the evening, but had had to remain unspoken until he was alone with his wife, as it had been for her ears only. She had seemed rather unimpressed at first, but eventually, as he explained himself further and better than he had apparently managed to the previous night, she seemed to warm up to the idea, and the two ended up spending a little while discussing and planning.

Before long, however, Joséphine could no longer fend off her exhaustion, and she drifted off to sleep, guided into a blissfull state by her husband's absent-minded stroking of her hair. César himself, on the other, had still been wide awake, and even moved on to another plan that had formed in his head the other day, and even been partly put into motion. His thoughts now, concerned the other part of that plan, for which he had just been awaiting the right moment. Now, it would seem that moment would occur the next morning.
Which left preparations to be made.

Leaving the bed as carefully as possible in order to not wake up Joséphine, for more reasons than just being considerate, he had quietly made his way over to the desk, and sat down to compose a little note. A little note that, as soon as he heard footsteps in the hallway outside the suite, signalling that the servants were now up and about, he had snuck out of the room to hand to one of them, instructing them to deliver it to a certain young Comtesse, once it was no longer offensively early in the morning for such a delivery to be made. He had then halted another servant, a middleaged man that seemed like the fairly trustworthy type, and set him on another mission with another set of instructions; those of not returning to the de la Valliére suite to deliver what he had been sent to fetch, until Joséphine had left to go outside.

With that done, most pieces of the chessboard had been moved into position. Only one remained; Octavien.
Knowing his friend had a tendency to rise with the sun - or, during winter, long before - César set out to track him down, and soon found him, much to his satisfaction, in his suite, just about to have breakfast. Ah, such perfect timing it was, for just like any good friend, he invited César, who at this point was starving once again, to join him.

It wasn't until about an hour later, that the two young men felt they were properly sated, and César suggested that they'd go for a stroll in the Palace gardens. He had only seen a glimpse of them when arriving, for even though he had partly ventured through them during his first encounter with Comtesse de Valois, he had been too... preoccupied to pay much attention to the surroundings. And besides, the weather was warming up, and there was spring in the air; the perfect time for admiring the beauty of such a magnificent garden.

Though no sooner had they exited the Palace, and started on their walk along one of the paths, than Octavien noticed his friend slowing down, his attention caught by something up ahead. Curious to see what it was, Octavien himself turned his head to look, and found that what had caused César's slowing pace, and eventual halt, appeared to be... Joséphine.
At first, he found it incredibly odd, that César would slow down his stride rather than to speed it up, in order to catch up with his wife.
But, one look at César's face would prove enough to turn initial puzzlement into sudden realization, helped along nicely by the words that were soon to follow;

"Octavien", César said, and turned his gaze from the beautiful brunette to the Prince instead. "I need a favor."

Having heard the same words a few times before, accompanied by that very same look in the Marquis' eyes, as well as knowing there was another young lady in court that had managed to spark his interest, Octavien instantly knew what he was going to say next, and started protesting even before César had the chance to utter the first syllable.

"César...", he said, his voice leaving little doubt that he did not approve of what his friends had in mind.

Still, César pretended not to hear. As always, when someone tried to talk him out of something he had every intention of going through with.

"Keep her occupied, just for a while? Please?"

Then, without giving Octavien the chance to answer and object any further, he continued, while giving his shoulder a quick, friendly pat.

"Excellent."

And with that, he quickly turned and headed back towards the Palace entrance, leaving Octavien to softly call out another protest, in a vain attempt to stop him, and at the same time, keep Joséphine from hearing it. Only one of those things succeeded. César just kept going, and when turning back with a deep, frustrated sigh at being left to serve as a diversion while César went off to do something Octavien really didn't condone, the Prince found that Joséphine too had disappeared from his sight.
Splendid. And ironic. He was made to chase after César's wife, while César himself was chasing after another woman.

"Great", he muttered to himself, as he started following the path once again, walking slightly faster than earlier, so that when he reached the spot where he had last seen Joséphine, she wouldn't have had time to disappear behind another corner or a hedge.


In the meantime, César quickly made his way back to the de la Valliére suite and was pleased to find that both servants from earlier this morning, had completed their tasks. On the desk, a small white box was waiting, and next to it sat a response note from Marie-Elisabeth, declaring that the Marquis was indeed welcome to stop by her suite for tea; words that drew a rather satisfied smile from the young man's lips. He simply loved when things were going his way.

The small, flat box tucked safely into one of the inner pockets of his flatteringly snug frock coat, he wasted no time returning to the hallways. Destination; la suite de Comtesse de Valois. Though once there, he retrieved the small box once again before giving a firm knock on the door, after which he placed his hands gingerly and casually behind his back while waiting, intentionally keeping the small box from being spotted.



(((ooc: Sorry, kind of sped through those last parts, but I felt it was getting rather long. :) )))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Tea was, according to the English, the solution for everything and anything that ailed you. Not that Marie-Elisabeth would ever admit to knowing any English sayings or putting any stock in anything that came out on an English mouth for that matter. But she would admit that tea had a remarkable tendency to get rid of headaches. Hers had all but disappeared, but had unfortunately left the less than pleasant mood behind.

When Marie-Elisabeth was in a mood it was difficult to pull her out of it. Sitting around while waiting for César to arrive and contemplating the, at least in her frame of mind, awkward conversation that was about to follow didn’t do much to improve it. In fact it had quite the opposite effect of making it worse.

She sighed and reached across the table to add another small spoonful of sugar to her teacup when her locket swung out from under the lace at her throat. She put the spoon back down and sat back up in the chair with the locket in her hand. “Oh chou d’amour” she thought, smiling and biting her lip to prevent any tears from falling “I don’t know why I ever left you sometimes. If I didn’t know better I’d just send for you and get you right here beside me”.

A knock at the door startled her slightly, and she quickly tucked the locket back under the lacy neckline of her gown. “Here we go” she thought, taking a deep breath as the murmured sound of voices could be heard coming from the door Jeanne had gone to answer. Said maid came into view a few moments later, curtseying in front of her. “The Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan to see you Madame” she said, rising from her curtsey and moving aside to allow César room to pass through.


(((OOC: HAHAHAHA, I can just picture Cesar grinning like he does and Octavien shaking his head at him. *resists urge to contemplate him shaking a finger at him or I might spit my drink all over my keyboard* I’m getting a strong feeling it’s not the first time the poor guy’s had to cover for Cesar and be on Josephine detail :P)))

[AtropaMandragora]

While waiting in the hallway for one of the Comtesse's servants to open the door, César was casually looking around, observing the paintings on the wall, the statue in one of the corners as well as the armor in another, and also the names on the plaques next to the other nearby doors. Much like the Palace Gardens, he had been there before, but with his attention on more important and interesting things to notice such details.
Now, however, he was free to notice that one of Marie-Elisabeth's neighbours was none other than Octavien's new 'friend', the charming Isabella Devine; formerly Baroness, now Comtesse, according to the one of Octavien's servants that had filled them in on this morning's announcement, which neither of them had attended.
Now wasn't that interesting? A new arrival at court, gone from Baroness to Comtesse in the blink of an eye, after befriending the Prince... César smirked slightly to himself. Perhaps octavien had learned a thing or two from him after all.

Though it was a smirk that was short-lived, as when his gaze fell on the plaque next to the door of Marie-Elisabeth's other neighbour, it slowly faded away. Mercy Venn. Another Baroness just made Comtesse. But unlike Comtesse Devine, there was not even the slightest possibility that this was the work of Octavien. César could tell just by the frown that stole across the young Prince's face when her name had been mentioned, that he was no great admirerer of hers. Which could only mean she had actually managed to anger him somehow. Not an easy task, considering Octavien's rather amiable nature, always with a smile for everyone. Though it would seem that was a quality that had undergone some changes lately, as those bright smiles were somewhat more of a rarity here at court than they had been at home. But, César had yet to find out just what it was Comtesse Venn had done, as Octavien had merely dismissed it with a comment along the lines of "There will always be people that when offered honey, are capable of offering only vinegar in return". What he had told César though, was to watch himself around 'that woman', for she was known to run her mouth and put her nose where it certainly did not belong.
And she lived right next to Marie-Elisabeth. Wonderful...
Then again, César had never lacked imagination when it came to pursuing his interests, away from prying eyes. Comtesse Venn was a problem that could be easily solved.

With that, the faint smirk returned to his lips, just as the doors finally opened. Judging by the way the maid stepped aside without asking his business but instead merely greeting him, he was expected. Yet he still lingered just inside the doors, just long enough for the maid to return to the salon and properly announce his arrival. Only then did he follow.

Finding Marie-Elisabeth seated by a small table, looking surprisingly demure compared to how he was used to seeing her - wearing a white and rather modest creation instead of one similar to the more lavish ones he had seen before, and a somewhat serious expression, instead of that mischievous smirk of hers - he greeted her with a faint smile, and a bow.

"Comtesse de Valois", he said, and then straightened his back. "Thank you for recieving me, and on such short notice. It is very kind of you to indulge a man of such impetuous behaviour."

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth was exceedingly good at being pleasant to everyone and anyone regardless of the situation. That is if she chose to be. The only exception would be anyone English but she had thankfully not yet had the misfortune of having to be in any English person’s company. She even managed to be polite to her husband’s brothers when they came to visit, and their idea of good conversation was talking about the makes and models of various guns or discussing how sick they had been last week.

So it certainly was not difficult at all to be pleasant to a person whom she at least knew was interesting and capable of decent conversation. No it certainly wouldn’t be hard, which she supposed would help her get it over with faster. “It’s perfectly alright, I don’t mind in the slightest” she said, smiling and putting her teacup down, turning over to where César now stood “I would have had to go out and look for someone to tell me what has happened this morning anyway, due to being somewhat under the weather earlier”.

She looked from side to side, noticing that Jeanne had politely made herself scarce, and continued. “And to be honest, one of my neighbours has rather a tendency to be in the business of others and the other is an annoyingly pretentious little thing I’d prefer not to engage in conversation again any time soon if I can help it. I'd much prefer the current company”.

She laughed slightly and indicated the other chair next to her. “Please do sit down Marquis” she said, picking up the teapot. She poured a second cup and topped up her own half full one, all the while thinking to herself "So far, so good".





(((OOC: Seriously, my ancestors are beating me with sticks for all this English bashing! Well my English ones. The French ones and probably just nodding their heads and agreeing with me LOL And as to Charles’ brothers, they’re like the kind of guys that live in their mom’s basement till they’re 40 :P)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine (and soon Octavien) in the gardens - The de la Vallière masterplan xD

Much to Joséphine's relief, she did not need to remain crouching between sharp branches and rough tree bark very long: not five minutes later, she was able to spot her husband and Octavien stepping through the imposing Palace doors and halting there. Their lips told her some sort of conversation was going on though her uncomfortable hiding place was positioned too far away for her to be able to hear the words spoken.

Not that she would have had the time to sit and listen; the two men's arrival constituted her cue to leave. With as much care as the situation permitted, Joséphine extracted herself, gown and all, from the bushes' midst, muttering some rather un-ladylike words under her breath: thorns and branches clung to her garments almost stubbornly, slowing down the entire process down and making it increasingly likely that someone might catch a glimpse of her embarrassing efforts. That would have made her feel like a fool indeed, but not nearly as much of a one as she would undoubtedly be made to feel very soon, the Marquise mused wryly. The more she thought about it, the less she liked César's plan. There was simply so much that could go astray, not to mention the fact that she considered the division of tasks to be rather unfair: all César had to do was invite Octavien for a stroll.

Mentally chastising herself for ever having agreed to go along with that foolish idea, Joséphine nonetheless hurried along the agreed path that took her towards the garden maze while allowing Octavien a clear view as she crossed his way and disappeared behind a tall hedge. She knew haste was needed if she were to accomplish her task before the Prince had a chance to catch up with her – and he could move quickly.

Once out of sight, Joséphine broke into a full run, keeping her hems firmly off the ground and her head lowered, until she at last reached her destination: a tall tree with a magnificent crown of branches where the first budding leaves were just visible. The place was sufficiently isolated to provide the Marquise with temporary cover from the prying eyes of strolling courtiers, but close enough to the front of the gardens for her voice to be carried on the breeze.

It was time. Taking a moment to survey her surroundings and ensure no soul was in sight, Joséphine unpinned the delicate hat she wore perched on the top of her head. In her chest and temples, blood pulsed audibly, and a tiny voice kept whispering “this is foolish, this is foolish”. But she couldn't back out then: even though César had no right to demand her to fulfil her end of the deal, it was pride, pure and simple, that kept her committed: if she admitted to being too frightened, she would never hear the end of it.

Gripping the hat by between her thumb and index finger, Joséphine moved underneath the great tree and looked up at the branches tangling above. The Marquise was no stranger to nature: as a child, riding in the fields with the local boys hadn't been the only habit that drove her parents and nannies insane with worry and frustration that such a pretty little girl could behave so...boyishly. Swimming in lakes, digging in the dirt, and climbing trees were all things she had enjoyed immensely as a child, before the duties and constraints of society eventually forced her to fall into the ranks of well behaved young ladies.

Inhaling deeply, Joséphine aimed for what she believed to be a good spot and, with all her might, tossed the hat in its direction, hoping that it would remain lodged there between the branches as gravity brought it down. Once that was done, the Marquise tossed aside all percepts of polite society and embraced the tree trunk, using any leverage she could to keep herself from sliding down, thus beginning a problematic ascent. Thinking how much easier it had seemed as a child, it took all of Joséphine's efforts and concentration to be able to reach the first of the tree's branches, not without plenty of sweating, heaving and scratches. Once that was achieved, the rest of the climb became somewhat easier, not to mention faster and, at last, the Marquise wriggled into a seating position atop a larger branch, not far from where her hat fluttered in the wind.

Joséphine did not stop there however: crawling into an awkward position along the branch, she let one of her legs dangle helplessly beneath while both hands clung on to the bark as if for dear life, a convincingly distressed posture. From her vantage point, Joséphine could discern the silhouettes of various courtiers several rows of hedges away, and Octavien's blond tresses carried upon the wind as he surveyed the gardens, obviously searching for someone. Hoping that César had done his duty and that someone was herself, Joséphine did her best to ignore the sickening lurch in the pit of her stomach, pitched her voice high and called out plaintively:

“Help! ...someone, help me, please!”

[AtropaMandragora]

While the look claiming the pretty and currently beautifully framed features of Marie-Elisabeh's face upon César's entrance into the room, had been rather serious and sombre, the smile he shot her during his greeting seemed to have the desired effect; it thawed them from their somewhat rigid state, and granted him a soft one in return. Not her usual one, with the hint of a devil's grin tugging at those invitingly plush lips, the one that made him feel that the two of them connected on a level much more profound than what appeared on the surface. But it was still pleasant nonetheless. Although by the looks of it, it would indeed seem that she wasn't really up to par, quite possibly because she had been feeling a bit under the weather, like her response note had suggested, as well as the reply she offered him now, along with yet another hint that she desired to know what she had missed.

And César was only too happy to accomodate such a pretty, young thing as her. Especielly when she, by her own admission, seemed to enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed hers.

"Please do sit down Marquis", she said, indicating one of the nearby chairs, and then went on to actually pour him a cup of tea.

Now, while she may or may not be perfectly aware that tea and the interrupted 'theological discussion' had only been excuses on César's part, they did serve as a good place to start, and so with a slight bow of his neck, César accepted the offered seat, though not without first bestowing a gentle but proper kiss upon her delicate knuckles.

"Thank you", he said as he sat down.

In doing so, he had no other choice than to place the little box on the table, next to his cup, as her comment required an answer before he could change the subject to the contents of the box, and he could no longer keep it hidden behind his back without coming across as acting rather strange.

"I regret to say that I do not believe I am the one to ask, as yesterday my presence among the other courtiers was rather limited. Certain circumstances prevented me from leaving my room until around noon, and then me and my wife spent most of the afternoon in one of the Salons. I can't recall anything of much importance happening there, except for a recital of one of the Prince's compositions. Turned out to be quite the success, it did."

There he paused for a moment, deciding that while he was very proud of Joséphine's performance, this was hardly the right time to emphasize his wife's talents, or even her existance.

"And then for the evening I simply was not here at all, as the Prince decided to drag us off to the Opera", he concluded his report of yesterday's events, before moving on to this morning's announcements, as he assumed by Marie-Eisabeth's choice of words that just like him and Octavien, she had not attended. "I am better informed regarding the events of this morning, however. You'll be interested to know that both of the ladies of whom you spoke, have, for some reason or other, moved up in the world, as they have both been granted the title of Comtesse."

While he spoke, he had been slowly stirring his tea to allow the small pinch of sugar to dissolve, following the motions of the spoon with his eyes, but now let them return to her face, as he added;

"Though while they might now be your equals in name, I dare say they will never be your equals in beauty and charm."

He didn't give her much of a chance to reply, however, but instead continued once more, having decided that he did not wish to delay part of the reason for his visit any longer.

"Now", he said while putting the cup of tea down, untouched, and then pushed the small white box across the table surface, placing it right next to hers instead. "As you have not been feeling well recently, I feel that it is only my duty... nay, privilege, as a gentleman, to do what I can in order to make you feel better. Perhaps this will be a good start?"

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: funheart? FurryPanda? Elektra? We're missing you guys. RP posts as well as feedback on our current situation. :) )))


Continuing down the path towards where he had last seen Joséphine, Octavien was still grumbling to himself, wondering how exactly it was that César managed so easily to get Octavien to cover for him, time after time. While Joséphine had only been the target of such diversions on one other occasion, when one of César's mistresses had defied his rule that she was not to attend any social gatherings at the Mont-de-Marsan estate, Octavien had several times been made to distract one mistress, while César courted another. Not that he had that many of them, and was rarely juggling several at a time, but women tended to resent seeing past lovers with new flames, and César's conquests did move in the same circles, so it was bound to happen. And when it did, who was left to try and keep everyone out of trouble?
Octavien. César's good-natured sap of a friend.
That's how he felt, at least, whenever these things happened, and he somehow ended up being the one expected to provide César with enough time and room to take care of whatever it was he set out to do. And, no matter how much he disliked César's various affairs, he couldn't help but to resign, and do what César asked (or didn't) of him. The two of them were like brothers, perhaps even more so than Octavien and Nicholas, his real brother, and he knew that there really wasn't anything malevolent in what César did. No ill will towards Joséphine, or anyone else. No bad intentions, or spiteful purposes. He simply figured that as a man, it was his privilege to seek a bit of extramarital fun, when the mood hit him. A notion handed down to him from his father, and frankly, not an uncommon one these days. Even among women.
Though it appeared that Joséphine was not one of them, and to be perfectly honest, Octavien thought it would kill César if she was to seek the arms of another. Hypocritical as it may be.

Finally reaching the small crossroad of paths where he had seen Joséphine stroll by, Octavien stopped and looked along the one she had been following, and then, as it was now completely empty, scanned the surrounding area, thinking maybe she had ventured away from the rugged and noisy gravel and onto the increasingly green grass.
But no. She was nowhere in sight.

Where had she gone off to? And how on earth had she managed to disappear so quickly? Between Octavien seeing her and reaching this spot, not that much time had actually passed. Far from as much as it would take for her to disappear behind one of the other hedges or cluster of bushes.

With a furrow of confusion forming between his eyebrows, Octavien started hesitantly down the path he had seen her following, turning his head in constant lookout for that set of chocolate curls bouncing around slender shoulders clad in purple. Surely she had to be around here somewhere? Skilled and elusive though they may be, women did not just vanish into thin air.
Though if there was ever a time to start wondering if perhaps it really was a well kept secret of theirs, Octavien figured this would have to be it. Either that, or he and César must have simply imagined seeing her in the first place. An absurd idea, yes, but then again, so was Joséphine simply disappearing like this.

The further he went down the narrow but well maintained path, the louder a voice in his head grew, protesting that there was no way Joséphine could have gone this far in that short period of time, and finally, he gave up and stopped, taking the famous one last look around that all humans seemed programmed to do, before slowly turning to start back the way he came.

But, as ever frolicsome fate would have, it was in that exact moment he heard a faint cry for help being carried over one of the nearby hedges, and he stopped again, unsure of whether it had been real, or if it had simply been his senses playing tricks on him. Again.
It had been a female voice, and... He'd be darned if it hadn't sounded just like her.

"Joséphine?"

He ventured a soft call, while once again moving along the path, in the direction from which the distressed cry for help had come. Rounding a cluster of high and closely placed bushes, what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks, and stare. First in confusion, and then in complete disbelief. Not too far from where he was standing, there was indeed Joséphine. Dangling precariously. In a tree.

"What in God's name...? Joséphine?"

That's when it suddenly dawned on him. She really was in trouble. No matter what the reason, she was clinging to a branch that didn't seem all too sturdy, about thirteen or fourteen feet from the ground, and looking as though she might slip and fall any moment. A fall in which, considering the height, she would risk getting seriously injured.

Unlike a few other courtiers that had been drawn towards the scene by her call for help, to Octavien, that left no time to stand around and simply gawk at her. Within seconds, he reached the tree, having freed himself of his frock coat in the process so that he would be able to move his arms freely, unrestrained by the inflexible fabric.

"Hang on", he said as he started his own ascent up the trunk, mostly as a way of trying to comfort her, as he was well aware that if she let go, it would hardly be by choice.

As a man, with the superior strength that came with the gender, and no layers upon layers of skirts to weigh him down, get in his way, or otherwise restrict his climb, it wasn't long until he could heave himself onto the same branch as Joséphine was clinging to, and then onto the next one only a couple of feet above it. Due to the uncertain state of the one she was on, he didn't want to add to the weight and possibly have it break, but instead decided to position himself just above her, in order to help her into a safe, seated position from there with one hand, while holding on to yet another sturdy branch with the other.

"Jo", he said calmly. "Give me your hand. Just reach back, and I've got you. Okay?"



(((ooc: *lol* Don't know if this makes any sense. I have a clear image of it in my head, but MAN it's hard to describe! I swear I will draw you all a picture if I have to. :lol: )))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had simply nodded her head at the mention of the events in the salon; having been there to witness it herself she was quite aware of what transpired there. “It was a lovely piece” she said while Cesar stirred his tea “I had no idea the Prince was so talented. Aside from robbing those others blind at cards, that was probably the highlight of the day for me”. She had shuddered slightly at the memory of her less than desirable dinner companions, making a mental note to simply have her meal in her suite were anything like that to happen again.

She was also starting to wonder why, as she had expected in her current frame of mind, he hadn’t just said he wasn’t going to be speaking to her much anymore. If fact she was starting to think it was quite possible that such an idea had just been the product of her unpleasant mood. That thought made her smile, but she was soon very hard pressed not to make a highly unpleasant face and groan upon receiving the news that her neighbours had moved up in the world.

“Wonderful” she thought, taking a sip of tea to hide the grimace she wanted to make "Now that insufferable little Baroness is only going to be even worse. I can’t believe she’s my equal now. Though is she could advance so quickly there’s no reason I couldn’t too. I can just imagine it now, my little Charles could be a Duc”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled again but that quickly turned into her seemingly ever present smirk at the compliment. She had been expecting a completely different sort of visit from him and was really quite pleased to see that it wasn’t the case. She could already sense the mood she had been in dissipating, if not disappearing all together.

But the smirk turned into a quizzical look when the small white box was placed near her cup. She put her teacup down and picked the box up, shooting him another confused look before carefully opening it. Once she saw what was inside it, she couldn’t help her eyes widening in surprise. It was a beautiful bracelet (http://www.crimson-tale.com/Temp/Bracelet_Marie-Elisabeth.jpg) made of pearls and gold. “My goodness, it’s so beautiful” she said finally, torn between looking up at him and staring back at the box “Thank you, I don’t quite know what to say”.

She held the box out and smiled up at Cesar, holding her other hand out. “Would you put it on for me?”



(((OOC: *snickers* Jo and the poor prince in the tree is a pretty dang amusing mental image I must admit :P Poor guy always having to run interference!

And DANG this took a long time to type up. But I wanted it done before I go off to work so I got it done :) )))

[Fayreview]

Hey guys :howdy:

Don't worry I'm not announcing my return, I said I'm leaving and I shall go through with that, but I'd first of all like to say that this is not actually because of certain negative feelings you have towards me or Mercy, that may have added to it, but my life has severly changed as of recent, and I owe the people in it my time and attention and I know that means I would neglect you all.

My final word on Mercy is that she hasn't changed, she was always a self important so-in-so she was when Eternal started the Roleplay she was under Shenan and she was right up until the end, Octavien she felt was no more dangerous than the Duchesse Marie, and if Mercy wanted to believe that then it was technically my descision. I shall have a leaving post for her and Charmaine to tie up her character more neatly than her vanishing without a trace, which really wouldn't suit such a loud character... unless Octavien did do away with her... but that would still leave Charmaine, trust me I did concider having her hung for treason, which I felt in a way would be the fitting end.

Ayway the main point of this post is like I said if there is anything you need from me I am willing to do it to make your transition easier, I only ask that you PM me in the next 3 to 4 days with that stuff, because after that I can't even promise that I will be able to check (not me being difficult just circumstances changing meaning I physically may not be able to access the internet for a little while.)

Anywho, some much lamented thank you's will be in Mercy's leaving post.

Fayreview

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Fayreview - I take it that means you've re-enabled PMs?
At this point, we're mostly waiting to hear from Seiza, FurryPanda and funheart, which is why not much has happened in this department as of yet.
Also, for the record, Mercy's attitude towards Octavien wasn't the problem. It was what lay behind it. And I'm not trying to start up an argument again, but as you said your piece, I feel I have the right to say mine. :)
Last but not least, good luck in life and be well.)))

[funheart00]

((ooc;; Sorry I haven't got up a morning post yet guys - had some last minute cramming for exams to do :P Anyways, I'll work on it today so I'll have it up later this afternoon. I still haven't managed to read through this whole thread though so thats coming soon too :)

Sorry to see you go Fayre - but I was just wondering (to everyone else) whether we will be starting up a new thread for it? Or just keep going on this one..?))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: We're still not sure, but I think we may have to start a new one, as a GM does need control of the initial posts, what with keeping character lists and vital info etc up to date. :) But, as we have still to determine who'll take over, it's too early to say anything at all for sure at this point.
Glad to know you're still with us, btw.)))


Always having had a certain luck with women, whether it be in pursuing them with the intention of eventually bedding them, or simply flirting for the sake of flirting itself, César tended to think rather highly of himself and his talent for courting the fairer sex. He had, over the years, come to notice how a minor change in women's behaviour would often occur when he was around, robbing their eyes of their usual boredom and detachement, and sprinkling them with life and interest instead; sometimes cool, sometimes not, depending on how experienced they were, and in what manner they had been brought up. Like the confident young man he was, he accredited such reactions to none other than himself, and more often than not, he was probably right.

And, it just might be that this was one such time, where a young lady's demeanor changed from somewhat rigid to pleasantly relaxed and amiable, all because of him. At least, that's how he chose to interpret things when that initial and somewhat glum look slowly faded away from Marie-Elisabeth's face, and that smirk he enjoyed to much returned to her lips. Add to that her reaction upon finding a beautiful (and rather expensive) bracelet of gold and pearls - wide-eyed and speechless awe - and there was nothing to suggest the lightening of her mood had been the work of anyone or anything other than César.

"My goodness, it’s so beautiful", she breathed, seeming as though she had a hard time tearing her eyes from the delicate piece of jewelry, which only went on to deepen César's sense of satisfaction, and assure him that placing such an order with the court jeweller, while it might've have been a rather rash thing to do, had been a good move.

During every single one of their encounters, Marie-Elisabeth had reached for the gold locket around her neck, and for that reason, as well as the location of said locket, his attention had kept being drawn towards it. And he had decided that such a necklace, which was obviously very dear to the Comtesse, required something to match, and thus bring out it's beauty. As well as her own beauty, for that matter. He couldn't help but to have noticed how the metal of the necklace had brought out the golden tinge of her hair, and how the pearls complimented the glow of her pale skin. It was for women like her that the combination of gold and pearls as jewelry had been created in the first place.

"Thank you, I don’t quite know what to say", Marie-Elisabeth added, as most do when they find themselves at a sudden lack of words, and then held out both the box and her arm. "Would you put it on for me?"

The bright smile on her lips drew an amused one from César, still laced with satisfaction of his good judgement, and he inclined his head ever so slightly, as if to indicate that he would be most honored to help.

"Of course", he said, and picked up the bracelet before putting the small box away to the side.

With nimble fingers, he then carefully fastened the bracelet around her delicate wrist, making sure to brush his fingertips gently against that area of sensitive skin whenever given the chance. Once he was done, he took his time withdrawing, and instead allowed his hand to remain resting on the cool table surface, with hers in a grip so gentle that she could easily slide it away from him, should she want to, without having to actually free herself.
It was time to find out just how much she enjoyed his company, and how ready she was for things to progress. And, if so, what part she herself intended to play in order for them to do so.

"I noticed your necklace", he said, with only a faint but undeniably sly undercurrent in his voice, hinting at how he was very well aware of her efforts to guide his gaze during their very first encounter, and when he continued, it took on an increasingly ambiguous tone; "And I couldn't help but feel that such a beautiful thing deserves a match. A partner, if you will, to further bring out it's beauty."

[Fayreview]

((Yes I have, but after the four days I shall disable them again, I don't really want to clutter the site with useless PMs saved for an inactive account.

And that's not a problem I shall hold on for as long as possible here,and I know this is a terrible thing to say, but I actually thought that was the problem... but I don't wannna drag it back up either.

But live long and fly high Atropa. Your a wonderful Roleplayer even if we don't see eye to eye.))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: I hope this works Atropa, if not let me know. ;)

Fayre - best of luck to you.

Everyone - although we're still waiting for Seiza and the others to contribute to this issue, I guess if they don't soon someone will have to call Afternoon. When would it best suit you guys?))

Octavien and Joséphine - Redefining Awkward (The Palace Gardens, in a cherry tree)

Courtly attire made tree climbing particularly uncomfortable indeed, Joséphine thought idly to herself as she dangled in the wind; the obligatory corset which encased her waist was slowly and painfully digging into her flesh, and the gown's hems and multiple undergarments hindered her every move. From her tall perch, the Marquise had a fairly panoramic view of the Palace gardens, something she might have even enjoyed, in different circumstances: secluded among the branches of a cherry tree, munching down on the ripe fruit and watching courtiers go by, completely oblivious. As her present situation did not even come close to that scenario, Joséphine was growing more and more miserable with each passing second, the fact that Octavien had yet to spot her only adding to her discomfort. If he failed to do so and left, the entire thing would have been for nothing. She let out another cry for help just for good measure and waited.

In the meantime, the Marquise's increasingly genuine distress attracted the attention of several women and their male companions who had been near enough to hear her call for help. They rushed to the base of the tree, craning their powdered necks for a better look. While the women simply gaped and whispered among themselves, one of the men began muttering something about summoning a servant with a ladder. In turn, their babble brought more and more onlookers to this oddest of spectacles. Someone asked Joséphine if she was hurt and if she could move, to which the Marquise shook her head, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks; thankfully she could attribute it to fear and effort, thus concealing her embarrassment. Standing in a semicircle around the tree, the gathered courtiers had launched an argument concerning be the best way to help her down, voices rising in a cacophony of unintelligible comments.

One word was carried above it however, and Joséphine recognized her own name being called; moments later she was able to see Octavien arrive, his frock coat hanging by just one sleeve. It appeared César had anticipated his friend's reaction well, the Marquise mused with relief, for it meant the entire debacle would soon be over. From the corner of her eye, she watched Octavien's quick ascent along the tree trunk – beneath them, more and more spectators were being drawn to the scene. Naturally, the Prince's involvement was a reason for increased interest, and the crowd responded accordingly: by whispering vicariously, staring and pointing fingers.

"Jo", Octavien called out to her from the branch just above hers "Give me your hand. Just reach back, and I've got you. Okay?"

Nodding energetically, Joséphine gingerly crawled her way back along the branch, experiencing a stomach turning sensation of instability: going forward had been fairly easy; the return proved somewhat more problematic. Thinking how absolutely ironic it would have been if she were to fall for real, the Marquise extended her left arm in Octavien's direction, the right one firmly gripping the branch. Following a few seconds' blind search, their fingers touched, but only their tips; propelling her body backwards, Joséphine's other hand left the branch in one quick motion, allowing her free hand to find safety in Octavien's grip. With his help, she carefully shifted into a sitting position, slowly turned around to face him and finally placed both hands in his.

They both stared at eachother in disbelief, ignoring the relieved sighs coming from the courtiers; Joséphine's lush curls had become disentangled, falling haphazardly around her oval face, flushed a vivid red; several light scratches could be seen along her bare forearms, and her gown sported a few tears. For extra stability, the Marquise drew herself close to Octavien's body, panting slightly and glancing apologetically up at him:

“Octavien...” Joséphine breathed, “I am so sorry! My hat...” she motioned towards the end of the branch “...was caught in the wind, but I did not wish to disturb anyone else, and decided to retrieve it myself...I know, it was a foolish thing to do. Thank you...thank you for helping me.”

Seeing the worried look in Octavien's eyes, Joséphine did experience a throb of searing guilt at having purposely deceived him, even though their plan had come through beautifully in the end. Still, the Prince was obviously not aware or simply did not care about the fact that a dozen pairs of eyes were currently gazing up at him in awe and appreciation: he was upset, plain and simple, disquiet etched in every line of his handsome features. For a brief instant, Joséphine found herself admiring them: there was something to be said about those expressive, blue eyes... She felt very warm, a sensation that seemed to be focused in her hands which were still tightly clasped in Octavien's own, and spreading through her arms into the rest of her. Her cheeks became, if possible, even redder.

“We should....get down from here” she whispered very quietly.

[funheart00]

((ooc;; No problem Atropa - thanks for letting me know ;)
I can so see them up in that tree - and don't worry, your descriptive skills are amazing I got it perfectly :P

Oh and half-decent post today!))


Roseline woke late. She had fallen out of the early rising routine she needed in Court because of the late rises in the country. She had planned on an early night as she was already tired from travelling but Louisa had seen that out of the window, and the two women spent most the night talking of all that Roseline had missed during her time away from Court, which the most obvious of which was the Queens departure from the Palace. Roseline had arrive back too late to share the shock of the news with any of the courtiers but she could share it with Louisa and for that reason Roseline doted on the young woman. The pair had become good friends, which Roseline could only see as a bonus – the two constantly talked over the day’s events and often spent evenings together where Louisa would tell Roseline of all the gossip going on in the Court, which of course Roseline often joined in on – what woman wouldn’t?

A small smile danced over Roseline’s pale features at the thought, and forced herself into a sitting position. A small shaft of light spilling into the room through a gap in the curtains reminded Roseline of her already late rising and she reluctantly released herself from the warm cocoon that was her bed. She crossed to the curtained windows almost immediately after forcing herself up and opened the heavy curtains wide, filling the room with light. The day was a glorious spring day and already the sun was shining. It was a welcome change from the heavy rain that Roseline had arrived in yesterday, and after only mere moments of gazing longingly at the Palace grounds, Louisa bustled in, a warm smile lighting up her face.

“Bon Matin, Baroness.” She said warmly, “It is good to have you back.” Roseline turned to face the young woman, her own features mirroring the happy expression on her maid’s.

“It is good to be back, Louisa – I am sorry I have risen so late.” Roseline said, her thoughts turning on the strange change of weather but determined to enjoy it while it was here.

“It is no problem Madame.” She said, and paused carefully, allowing Roseline a moment to give her a gentle, querying look, “You will still be in your mourning dress, Madame?” Roseline nodded, the small smile that was gracing her lips disappearing as Louisa bowed out of the room. Of course, Roseline’s mood was far too good for her to seem in mourning, but her family at home treated her almost the same as many of the courtiers because of her beginnings, and so she had never felt as close to them as she could have. It was for that reason only that she couldn’t feel too bereaved, and had come back to Court so soon after the funeral. She had surprised herself in going back at all – which of course could be seen as the most insensitive thing possible to think at all but it demonstrated how much she felt apart from them.

The only real reason she returned was to see her best childhood friend, Kaitlin, who had now settled down with a husband and had two gorgeous boys. They had spent the days following the funeral catching up on life, and Roseline was badgered by her only remaining sister to do the same as Kaitlin and settle down. Roseline though felt no need to tie herself down – she wasn’t born inside the ‘rules’ of society and so felt no need to follow the customary early marriage yet.

Louisa’s return into the room cut short Roseline’s rambling thoughts though and soon after Roseline was dressed in a simple yet elegant black dress and her hair put up in a simple up-do. She quickly exited her room and began walking down towards the Palace Gardens. Unbelievably, she had forgotten completely about her breakfast with Baroness Venn, but now it was much too late, and she would have to hope to see the older woman around the Palace to apologise.

Finally escaping out into the cool air and warm sun, Roseline allowed a quick smile to flicker over her features before beginning a slow saunter across the gorgeous grounds.



((ooc;; Completely approachable guys :D Anywhere in the gardens ..
Sorry its so crappy, spending the day reading through History books all day leaves nothing in my brain :P))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth was, for more than one reason, seriously beginning to regret what she had worn this morning. The first being it no longer suited her mood at all, being far to plain and boring. The depressing mood she had been in had decidedly vanished and she had already made herself a mental note to change and re do her hair before leaving her suite. The second being that, with such a high and lacy collar, along with such long sleeves, it made it difficult to see her jewelry. Particularly the beautiful new piece she had just received. Thirdly, the fur-trimmed dress was starting to get uncomfortably warm, due in no small part to the proximity of the man sitting next to her.

She was exceedingly tempted to reach up and start fiddling with her necklace, which if course she tended to do when she needed to think, but couldn’t as that would mean removing her hand from its’ current position. And she really didn’t want to do so.

When Marie-Elisabeth had gotten up that morning, she had no idea that this was how her morning was going to end up. When she had gotten the note from César that morning, she had assumed that their amusing little game was going to be over. But now she could clearly see that wouldn’t be the case. No the game was still going on and becoming more and more serious every moment. It was a continuous test of her ability to keep her reactions under control, which was becoming increasingly difficult with César’s proximity to her and his hand covering hers. And she wasn’t even going to bother trying to control the direction her mind was going in. That was an exercise in futility if she ever saw one.

"I noticed your necklace", she heard César say and her head snapped back to the situation at hand "And I couldn't help but feel that such a beautiful thing deserves a match. A partner, if you will, to further bring out it's beauty."“I can certainly see that you did” she replied, looking down at her hand“ It’s very beautiful”. She then looked back up, the smirk still on her face.

“You know something else?” she said, full well knowing what she was about to say, “We still haven’t finished that discussion we were having the other day. Remember the one about horseback riding? You did mention that in your note after all. I seem to recall someone offering to help me practise”.




(((OOC: Sorry that took so long, got kinda stuck for a while. *continues giggling about Jo and the prince in a tree*)))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: :lol: Prince and Marquise in a tree!
Sorry about the delay! )))

Thankfully, Bella was not one of those people who needed extensive work to look presentable in the mornings. In fact, Bella, within minutes of just having woken up, usually looked far more than presentable. She was thankful for that indeed as she overslept following the late night dinner in Octavien’s suite. As privileged as she felt for that experience, Bella did not want to miss the morning announcements, especially when it included something important for her.

Therefore, it made sense when she rushed her maid Grace during her morning duties of having her dressed and styled. Although, whether it made sense to Grace was a different story. She’d requested her maroon gown with a small pearl necklace and claimed she’d do her hair herself, leaving Grace wondering whether it was her ability that was in question.
“My lady,” she’d stuttered hesitantly. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
“I’ll be fine, it’s alright,” Bella had waved her off with a laugh. “Thank you.”

Of course Bella made it in time; she would not have missed the morning announcement for the entire world. Being made a Comtesse through her own doing, that was Bella’s first tangible achievement and she wanted to relish every moment of it. It was to be a permanent feature, her new title, but Bella wanted to savour the moment that it all changed. She was entitled to that much.

Following that burst of excitement, she found herself in need of some relaxation. She thought back to the events of the previous night and decided she would definitely look forward to the company of Octavien, Joséphine and César again; Octavien, in particular. In return for his gracious act of exposing her to what she had so sorely missed, Bella resolved to return the favour somehow. Right now, however, she wished to simply take time off.

Therefore, armed with her favourite book of late, she’d stalked the gorgeous palace gardens, finally coming to a rest by an isolated bench, where she could steal moments away from the commotion that happened to be arising further ahead to lose herself in fiction. However, the morning air and the beauty of the gardens proved too distracting and Bella found her eyes wandering again.

Coursing the green lands, she saw another figure such as herself, apparently not part of the circus that was erupting nearby. A young blonde woman, noble, but someone she had met as yet. Or heard of, in fact. Bella waited until the other woman’s gaze fell upon her and released a slight, if not beckoning wave of hand with a welcoming smile to match.

[AtropaMandragora]

Had the situation unfolding infront of the eyes of about a dozen courtiers in the budding Palace Gardens not been so profoundly laced with a sense of imminent danger, it would have probably appeared quite comical. A beautiful young Marquise, a fair creature of purple and white, sprawled on a thick branch of a cherry tree, with the dark rugged bark as a cruel contrast to her soft and now scratched lily white skin. And the very Prince of the kingdom, a nobleman supposed to turn his nose up at the mere thought of dirtying himself or acquiring even the tiniest blemish to his skin through actual effort, scaling the tree to come to her rescue like some knight in shining armor right out of a fairytale.

It seemed a scenario so unbelievable it could not have sprung even from the minds of Molière or Desmarets themselves, and would surely be the cause of some rather loud and incessant buzzing as well as quite a few laughs in the court for some time to come. But at the moment, there was not one snicker or giggle to break the spell of astonishment and breathless agitation amongst the courtiers watching the scene unfold from the ground below. Only whispers and a gasp here and there as Joséphine slowly started her risky venture back towards the trunk, all the while with Octavien's hand hovering over her form, ready to grab onto whatever he could grasp, should she wobble or loose her own grip, and start to fall. Consequently, when their hands finally clasped one another, there came a loud and joint sigh of relief from the onlookers.
One which, despite it's indiscreet volume, was heard neither by Octavien or Joséphine, as they both sat staring at eachother's faces, Joséphine's flushing red with effort and embarrassment, and Octavien's marred by genuine concern; feelings that then slowly started to dissipate, as another sensation began to intrude, slowly sneaking into the air between them, and staining it with something they had both sworn to forget. For a moment, Octavien found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Joséphine's pale features, and the way loose curls were framing her face, adding to her beauty an air of something wild, and untamed, and suddenly, he became painfully aware of how firmly clasped their hands were, her skin burning red hot against his.

"Octavien...", she said as she pressed even closer to him for extra safety, her voice somewhat ragged in the immediate aftermath of her perilous stunt. "I am so sorry! My hat... was caught in the wind, but I did not wish to disturb anyone else, and decided to retrieve it myself... I know, it was a foolish thing to do. Thank you... thank you for helping me."

While she spoke, she motioned towards a cluster of twigs at the end of the branch, where her hat remained stuck, and Octavien managed to tear his eyes away from her long enough to glance in it's direction, actually noticing it for the first time. Until now, he had been so concerned with her well-being, that there had been no room in his mind for questions of why she was even where she was in the first place.
Though his gaze soon returned to her, and as their eyes locked, he realized that she was now looking at him much in the same way as he felt he had been looking at her, and still was; with breathless tension, and a new wave of red crashing over her cheeks as confirmation that the feeling stirring within him was a mutual one.
It lasted only for a few seconds, but when Joséphine finally opened her mouth to speak, it felt as though an eternity had passed.

"We should... get down from here."

It was a mere whisper, little more than an audible breath, but it managed to rouse Octavien from his slight trance, and after blinking a few times to clear his mind of her bedazing lure, he turned his head to look at the trunk, and try to figure out the best way to put them firmly and, above all, safely back on the ground. From where they were sitting, there was another lower and thicker branch protruding in a slightly different direction, but with a gap narrow enough from where they were for Joséphine to be able to fairly easily lower herself onto it's base, and then slide down the last few feet before he could grab her by the waist, and lower her the rest of the way himself.

Carefully freeing one hand, though not without placing hers firmly against the branch he was sitting on, so that she would still have something to hold on to, he began to point and explain their route down, and once Joséphine nodded in understanding and agreement, he gently freed his other hand, to start his own descent. In clothes that allowed him much more freedom of movement than hers, and, again, being male, it took him only seconds to move himself onto the bottom branch, and then lower himself from there, ending up swinging himself from it and landing on the ground with catlike grace. From there, he motioned for Joséphine to start her own way down, all the while ready to catch her, should she happen to slip and fall.
However, she handled herself with as much dignity she had left - which was an amount far larger than most would have in her situation - and soon enough, Octavien could reach up and grab her by the waist, and finally lower her to the ground.

But, as he did, as he felt her body slide down along his, with only the thin fabric of his shirt seperating his naked skin from her form and the touch of her hands resting gingerly on his shoulders, and then her face ending up mere inches from his own... It was as though the feeling from just a few minutes ago had only been an echo of what now returned full force to land a punch in his gut, so that for another fleeting moment, his breath caught in his throat, rendering him unable to do anything but gaze down at her face, and those rosey lips, that had once...

"He's bleeding!"

This time, it was not a soft whisper from those lips that pulled him out of his slight daze, but the sharp gasp from a nearby woman, and as he looked up, he found the audience of courtiers - whose presence he only noticed now - staring and pointing at his arm. Confused, he glanced down and found that, indeed, he was bleeding. It appeared that his 'heroic bravura' had caused the wound on his arm to open once again, and create the dramatic contrast only blood upon snowy white could accomplish. His concern for Joséphine and the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins for the past couple of minutes had kept him from feeling the pain, and made him forget he was even hurt in the first place. But now, following in the footsteps of the visual, came the dull, throbbing ache of an open wound, and a slight frown to steal swiftly across his features.
Yet he said nothing, but simply turned back to Joséphine.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Would you like for me to arrange for a carriage to take you back to the Palace, or would you prefer that we walk?"

She did look rather pale to him, and knowing how easily ladies tended to faint when put through an emotional ordeal, especially one as intense as this one, he really would prefer it if she allowed him to see to it that she returned to the Palace with a minimum of effort on her part. But, he wouldn't go as far as to refuse her to walk, or even suggest that maybe it would be for the best that she didn't. Joséphine was strong and proud, and he suspected such a suggestion would only offend her.

"I'll send a servant to fetch your hat", he added, just in case she was about to insist she would not leave without it.

[AtropaMandragora]

"I can certainly see that you did. It's very beautiful."

Whether the Comtesse was intentionally dodging his subtle insinuation, for the sake of their ever ongoing game, or if she was simply still too taken with the newly recieved jewlry on her arm to pick up on the tone in his voice, César could not tell. And it mattered little, for when she looked up from her gift to lock gazes with his again, he made sure that there was a certain twinkle in his eyes that was guaranteed to remove any and all doubt from her mind that while his first words of his last statement had been about the necklace, the 'beautiful thing' and it's 'match' of which he had spoken, had little to do with the bracelet, and far more to do with the Comtesse herself.

And, mission accomplished. The smirk that still held her inviting lips captive told him that her mind was travelling along much the same path as his own, and that not only had she registered the small challenge, but that she intended to rise to the occasion, once again.

"You know something else?" she said, sounding rather casual, and yet her voice held an to César unmistakable undertone of her usual level of mischief. "We still haven’t finished that discussion we were having the other day. Remember the one about horseback riding? You did mention that in your note after all. I seem to recall someone offering to help me practise."

The sly smile that appeared on César's lips at the sound of those words, was only just outdone by Marie-Elisabeth's own smirk. It would seem she was indeed ready to take things a little further, and even though the conversation he had referred to was not in truth the one about horseback riding, he was not about to correct her. For all he knew, it was an intentional mistake, meant to guide them onto the path she wished to go. And frankly, he had enjoyed discussing horseback riding more than he had enjoyed discussing theology.
Much, much more.

"Indeed I did", he said, while absent-mindedly (or so it would seem) allowing his fingertips to toy with hers, watching them at first, but then looking suggestively up at her from under the unruly strands of hair hanging slightly into his eyes. "Shall I take it you feel ready to get back in the saddle? Or would you prefer a slow ride along the countryside?"

An odd statement perhaps, as only one with a mind similar to César's would register the difference between the options given. But judging by how their previous conversations had played out, César didn't really doubt that his words were no mystery to Marie-Elisabeth.



(((ooc: Hope you get what he means, slytherin. :D But if I had him be too cryptic, PM me. :) )))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had proven herself to be very good with words. It had started in her childhood, she had often been able to talk her tutors into writing her lessons for her and she would trace over them later. The talent had only gotten better as she had gotten older, and tended to be particularly effective on members of the opposite sex.

But that was when she had time to consider her words. Undistracted time where there weren’t a thousand other thought milling through her head. And most of the thoughts floating around in there right now were the sort that would earn her a week’s worth of Hail Marys and Our Fathers were a priest to hear them. And quite possibly a liberal sprinkling of holy water for good measure.

She was having a very hard time coming up with a response to his question in the first place, the primary reason being that César's hand on top of hers was beginning to get more distracting than she could handle at the moment, and the way he was looking at her didn’t help matters. There was also the fact that she simply didn’t know quite how to answer it. She knew how she would have liked to answer it, but didn’t quite think she could just yet.

Marie-Elisabeth gently pulled her hand out from underneath his reaching up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. Normally she would have reached for her necklace, but as it was buried underneath her neckline she couldn’t without sticking her hand into her dress. And she wasn’t about to do that.

“I suppose” she said, trying to choose her words carefully “That I would have to say I would prefer the second of the two”. She let go of her hair and glanced briefly down at her wrist, then up at him again, before continuing. “As I did say before, while I did used to ride more often and would love to do so again, I’m ashamed to admit I’m a bit apprehensive about “getting back in the saddle” as you put it.”

She paused and looked down at her wrist again, keeping her gaze there as she finished speaking. “It’s just been so long that while I certainly remember how to do so I’m, again as I said the other day, somewhat out of practice”.





(((OOC: That made more sense in my head, I swear. If it's too confusing or anything, like you said last time Atropa, let me know! :)

I swear I didn’t imagine her doing air quotes when she said “get back in the saddle”. Nope, not at all…..*whistles innocently*And I mean (by the prayers thing) like if a priest were to hear it in a confession. I went to catholic school for 14 years, I may as well use all the knowledge: P


On a more relevant note, I’m going to be away from Friday to late on Sunday, as I’m going to be at an Anime Convention. Where I get to run around dressed like Rikku all day! *fangirly SQUEEEEEEEE*

Just wanted to give you guys a heads up so you don’t think I’m ignoring anyone or being inactive. :howdy: )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: This is just an -introduction- Elena will be arriving properly at noon.

*snickers at all the "subtle" horse riding comments* :lol:))





Elena Sánchez - on route to the Palace of Light and Air

The morning sun crept towards zenith, showering the entire countryside in sheer brilliance beneath a coudless sky. All around the winding road leading to the Palace of Light and Air, vegetation stirred to live once again, sprinkling the vast plains and hillsides with tiny specks of green. The air, too, was infused by a multitude of fresh scents which hailed warmer days to come, flowers weighing down on branches along the paths.

A diffuse shape was snaking its way along the road, barely visible on horizon's edge, but growing in both size and sound. Before long, any passer-by would have been able to distinguish an approaching coach, the first in a convoy of six, a richly embossed ebony and gold vehicle pulled along by two magnificent, black horses, adornments and wheels glittering like gold whenever sunlight touched them.

Seated in the plush comfort of this leading coach was Elena Sánchez , daughter of illustrious Duque Carlos de Suárez y Torre, on route to the French Royal court – behind her, five carriages laden with luggage and servants followed. Elena paid no attention to the pleasant scenery passing her by; her gaze was pointed downwards, at the several sheets of paper covered in calligraphy her fingers fiddled with.
She knew their contents by heart, having read and re-read them numerous times before her departure from Spain; they were letters, the correspondence between her father and King Edouard Rotherham of France, and each of them interested her greatly.

From these pages, Elena had first learned of the status of France's royal family, as King Edouard communicated it to her father: his daughter's marriage to one Octavien Lahance, the Princess' subsequent illness and inevitable death, followed briefly by concerns regarding the widowed Prince and a need for him to re-marry as soon as possible. Even by the standards of nobility, the urgency to find Lahance a new wife seemed great, Elena's cunning mind already hunting for hints that might point at the true reasons for all this haste. There were always reasons within reasons, disguised as something else, and despite the letters' ...lacklustre nature, the conclusion which she had been able to draw was that the French royals seemed very eager to ensure their newly-made Prince did not have a chance to re-evaluate his loyalties. Now that, was interesting indeed.

Elena recalled, not without a trace of a smirk, Duque Carlos' reaction when she had bid him to propose a marriage between herself and Octavien Lahance to his friend the King. Having seen her dodge marriage proposals for some ten years, he held little hope that his daughter would ever be willing to marry, and had resigned himself to the idea that he was destined to die without the certainty that his querida Elena had a certain future. And yet, he had strong objections to her marrying a foreigner, and a young upstart made noble at that; the man had as large an ego as the next high ranking noble, and in his view nothing was too good for his only daughter – her leaving their ancestral home and homeland to be joined to a Prince with a rather obscure background, lacking the ancient nobility their family boasted, seemed a poor, if not insulting, choice.

It was, however, a perfect choice in Elena's view, a golden opportunity -what good would all of her family's illustrious past do her once the leeches settled in to bleed it dry? Ancestry or not, Lahance was Prince with all the trappings that came with the title, and by the looks of it, held on a tight enough leash by his family that meant they either had leverage over him or he acted out of honour and loyalty; possibly a bit of both. Elena had learned that the man was young, five years younger than herself, but she was not ready to brand him as the naïve, malleable type just yet. Underestimation had been the pitfall of many of her own past enemies, and she was not about to borrow their mistake. She did rather hope her future husband was indeed easily manipulated, preferably dull-witted, the kind of man that could be stringed along and would not hinder her purposes, but ideal situations were so rare...

After some persuasion from his daughter's part, Duque Carlos agreed to propose marriage between Elena and Octavien, possibly even convinced once Elena was done enumerating all the benefits of such an union, in that sensible, compelling way she knew he could not resist – female whining had a lesser effect on the duke, but logic convinced him easily: she was going to live at the court of his trusted friend, she had told him, and despite his ancestry, Octavien Lahance was a Prince in his own right – while adding a few examples of other noted Spanish nobles who had only recently risen to power- all in all, the marriage would ensure she and her heirs had their future assured: they could hardly hope for a more favourable, or timely match. That final argument had been the catalyst: Duque Carlos shared Elena's disdain for their many relatives, each of them circling them like vultures around a dying creature, readying themselves for the plunge. He knew his days were counted: his health was declining rapidly, and his old battle wounds pained him greatly; despite his doctors' best efforts, he would not survive more than a couple of years. Since he had no direct male heirs, that left the matter of the Sánchez lands, estates and fortune out in the open, a bountiful treasure just ready for the picking.

“Usurpadores...” Elena hissed under her breath, the bile of hatred rising in her throat at the thought. The only reason it was even a problem, why those jackals even had a claim over her fortune was because their reproductive organs happened to dangle between their legs. She had kept them at bay so long through sheer determination, unafraid to use whatever means necessary to do so, but that solution was not complete: the day her father was lowered into the ground, her hold on all their possessions would be transferred into the hands of whoever had managed to elbow his way up and make a claim on it. Elena's skin crawled whenever she envisioned her fate in that situation: being married off to whomever the new Duque de Suárez y Torre wished, or, the greatest disaster of them all, being thrown behind the gates of a convent.

This was why an advantageous marriage, a marriage on her terms, was imperative in Elena's mind. Princess Elena did not have a bad sound to it at all, she mused, the corners of her lips pushing upwards in a satisfied smile.

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: *lol* Elena's gonna be a handful, and then some!)))


To say that César was surprised by Marie-Elisabeth's answer to his subtle dare, would be an overstatement. To say that he was not slightly disappointed; a lie. While he was more than used to the games women played, especially their way of playfully withdrawing when their pursuer advanced, it would have certainly made things... easier, if the nature of their relationship could have been established sometime soon. Preferrably now. It was an unusual situation, having his wife and another young lady in whom he was interested, in the same household, under the same roof, with hundreds of prying eyes all around. The keenest pair beloning to Marie-Elisabeth's very next door neighbour. Had they ventured a little bit further, he could have suggested other places and other times of day (or night) to meet, away from said prying eyes, and thus more easily prevented rumours from spreading, than he could in a situation such as this, where their encounters would be more or less public, and word would far more easily get back to Joséphine, and anyone else who might take an inconvenient interest.

But as long as Marie-Elisabeth wouldn't welcome him any further than to hold her hand - and now, as it seemed she had chosen the strategy of withdrawing, possibly not even that - such suggestions would not be made. Instead, he too would have to cool off and withdraw, as he couldn't afford to be careless and allow rumours to spread by increasing his efforts, like he might have, had they not all been living under the same roof. Couldn't afford it while others were around, at least. On a deserted country road, however?
Welllll... Maybe.
Mainly from now on it would be up to her to give the signal for when, or if, she was ready to take things further, as he had shown quite clearly that while she might be 'apprahensive' to do so at this point, he was not.

"One does not get back in practice if one does not practice, Comtesse", he said, mildly reproaching, and shot her a teasing glance.

Then he suddenly withdrew his hand, which had remained on the table surface even after she had withdrawn hers, and stood abruptly, leaving little time for her to even react to his words.

"But very well", he said. "A ride along the countryside it is then. Shall I wait outside, or would you rather we do it some other time?"

[Slytherin-Girl]

It wasn’t very often in her life that Marie-Elisabeth would find herself at a loss for words. With the exception of the time following her father’s sudden demise, she was quite well known for her constant and lively chattering. Her mother had, when annoyed with her, insisted she would have been better off being born to a less affluent family so she could run off and become an actress.

“People would appreciate your nattering there Elisabeth” she would say, and Marie-Elisabeth would laugh and say “No maman, they would probably be upset with me for being so pretty and stealing all the applause, and throw me right back out from where I came”. And that would usually cause a faint smirk to appear in the usual impassive façade of Marie-Therese Normandie, and Marie-Elisabeth would be dismissed with a wave of her mother’s hand, often swearing she could hear the faintest laugh after she exited the room.

Yes she was usually a person who was very good with words, but it appeared now that her infamous talent was failing her. And miserably so. It seemed that what she wanted to say made so much more sense inside of her head than it did when she spoke it aloud. She had meant what she said; it wasn’t as though she didn’t want to continue the oh so interesting game that they were playing. On the contrary, she had been quite upset in the morning to think that the game had been over so suddenly and much relieved to find that it was not.

She didn’t have a great deal of time to process any more of her thoughts however as César abruptly stood up and made as if to leave. She silently swore in a most unladylike fashion, she had been married to a soldier after all so she knew more than a few colourfull phrases, and got up off of the chair she had been sitting in. “I’m quite aware that practice as you say is necessary” she said, unfortunately not having a great deal of time to consider her words “But that is precisely the point. There has been no real opportunity for me to do so in quite some time, and is it not a part of human nature to be reluctant about things we are less than certain of? No matter how much we may desire to do them".

Marie-Elisabeth wanted to give herself a mental smack on the head after that, she hadn’t quite intended for it to come out in such an abrupt way. She really had no idea where her sudden reluctance was coming from, and was currently experiencing a strong desire to go right back into bed and pull the curtains shut where no one could see her.



(((OOC: Oh yeah, they’re subtle all right. *snicker* Bout as subtle as a brick through a window. You should see them in game. I feel like Octavien because I'm always on distract Josephine detail.

And have I ever mentioned that Elena scares me for some reason? No idea why, probably because her sim looks so creepy :P)))

[funheart00]

Roseline’s thoughts were not distracted even by the curious crowd that seemed to be beginning to appear a short way across the gardens. She should probably be more interested in the crowd, and what could have drawn so many courtiers to one place. The courtiers of the palace, on the whole, rarely gathered in great groups unless there was likely to be something for them involved or it was an occasion that may cause a surge of gossip later on. The crowd now moving in slightly with more people attempting to see what was going on, was likely to have been caused by the second reason of the two. Courtiers tended to keep themselves to themselves, and although Roseline was hardly any different it didn’t stop her from recognising it in others, most came from privileged backgrounds, and large manors in the country and so were used to getting their own way. A little like an only child, being forced to share all their toys, courtiers are, for the most part, simply not used to being so insignificant in a household.

She carried on walking away from the cluster of courtiers and instead settled for a slow stroll in the opposite direction. She allowed her eyes to wander through the sun-lit gardens, and soon, though her eyes moved her mind was elsewhere. Her dark dress didn’t feel fitting at all to the weather, and though her thoughts were somewhat more sombre after Louisa’s inadvertent reminder to Roseline about the death, she was still in far too much of a good mood to seem in mourning. Her thoughts rested for a moment on this.

Why did she care so little for her family? And, could it be perhaps, more for people here – in Court. She couldn’t know whether she had never cared, or just become more detached from them. It was true that she wasn’t particularly welcomed at home, but here she had made some sort of name for herself, hadn’t she? Was it truly awful for her to prefer not to be dressed so sombrely though she should be in mourning for her dear sister? Perhaps it was, and Roseline had become too detached from it all, caring for only herself. Yet, even as she thought it she realised it wasn’t true, she did care for people – Kaitlin among them. She pushed a stray blonde hair back off her face where it had fallen from the grasp of her hairpins because of Roseline’s downward turned head. She looked up. No, she had never really treated that place as home. Really, they cared as much to see her as she to them. But, that didn’t stop the fact that she had to wear this dark dress the first day of the year that the sun decides to appear. A quick flicker of a smile fluttered across her lips as the thought entered her mind. Here, she should be sitting upstairs in her room, mourning the death of her poor, dear sister – and she was out instead mourning the fact she must wear the black dress.

It was only when she had shaken her head to rid it of the amusing thoughts, and looked up again, back in her mind that she saw the young woman, obviously a noble of some sort but not one that she had seen around court. The girl gave Roseline a warm smile and beckoned her over. Roseline, after moving only a few steps closer, immediately realised that she had been reading, so she was most definitely of a title, though which Roseline was still no more aware.

She approached the woman with a smile, though she should probably not be taking this moment to socialise she thought a moment after moving toward the young woman and the corners of her own mouth lifter slightly more at the probably social faux-pas she had committed there. She soon approached the woman though, and Roseline could see that she was certainly a few years younger than herself – perhaps 19 or so.

“Bonjour Madame,” Roseline greeted her with a smile nodding her head down slightly, “I don’t believe we have met before. I’m Baroness Roseline Taylor, you arrived at Court recently?” Roseline then remembered Louisa telling her something of a ‘new’ arrival to Court gaining a new title this morning, and Roseline wondered if it was the pretty young woman in front of her who did – and why, of course.


((ooc;; Well, a bit short, yukish and rambly in the middle, but .. *lol* Slytherin. Yep. Veeeery subtle - lol that is all... ))

[AtropaMandragora]

César's last statement had been meant to conclude the discussion; a way for him to let Marie-Elisabeth know that while he would be more than happy to help her dust off her 'talents', he would not push. For while he might be widely known for being quite restless, when it came to women, he could be a very patient man. Just as long as they didn't end up being more interested in seeing how much toying they could make him take, than in having the toying actually lead somewhere.

As fate would have it, however, Marie-Elisabeth seemed to either completely miss or completely ignore that last statement, but instead came to her feet just as swiftly as he had, apparently given the impression that he intended to take his leave and wanting to comment on his first remark before he had a chance to do so.

"I’m quite aware that practice as you say is necessary", she said, a slight urgency in her voice mirroring that of her actions. "But that is precisely the point. There has been no real opportunity for me to do so in quite some time, and is it not a part of human nature to be reluctant about things we are less than certain of? No matter how much we may desire to do them."

Quite frankly, it was a statement that left César somewhat unsure of what to think. When saying that she would actually prefer a ride in the country over 'getting back in the saddle' with him, he had thought she'd been sincere in that she was not yet ready to go any further, at the moment. Yet when he withdrew, and indicated that he was willing to accomodate her, she acted as though she really wanted him to somehow persuade her, much like some more experienced women desired for men to do, either by sweet words, or by methods a bit more... forceful. It was all part of the game; women feigning disintrest or even reluctance, only to be made to give in, to surrender and to submit.
César was in no way a stranger to that game. He just hadn't gotten the impression it was one that Marie-Elisabeth was playing. Yes, the two of them were playing games, but up until now, he hadn't thought hers was that particular one.
Or, was her reaction simply a sign that she afraid that her apprahension would make him loose interest?

"I do believe I have recently, as well as just now, provided you with all the opportunity you may require," he said, allowing his voice to take on a slightly softer tone. "But as much as I would like to be of service to you, I simply will not force a lady to learn, or in this case practice, if she is truly reluctant to accept my assitance."


(((ooc: Sorry, kinda crappy. have a splitting headache. :/ If something doesn't make sense, you know the drill.)))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC:LOL, ME's subtle! And Elena sounds awesome!
It's fine Niamh, sounded pretty good to me. Let me know if I've gone off on a tangent here)))


Bella watched with the welcoming smile as the other woman approached with a similar amicable countenance. She seemed to be dressed completely in black, standing out as a stark contrast against the lush green and her golden locks. Bella decided not to question the woman’s attire, perhaps she was in mourning. Either way, she didn’t want to – nor saw any way to – get involved in whatever explained her colours.

As the form grew closer, Bella decided upon the polite thing to do and stood up to greet the other woman while she introduced herself.

“Bonjour Madame,” came the courteous greeting with a slight nod of the head to match the body language to that of the speech. She did not seem to be one of the more haughty nobles that hunted in these lands. Well, it was an assumption that Bella treated with a taste of salt given her experiences with the elitist Marie-Elisabeth, lecherous Larkin or the illusory Octavien, although the last proved to be a pleasure rather than an insult.

“I’m Baroness Roseline Taylor,” she introduced herself. “You arrived at Court recently?”

Bella could feel herself being studied briefly, in relation with something else. She could imagine what that was about; a new arrival at court immediately gains a title, it was bound to raise a few questions. Of course, it played straight into Bella’s hands; it gave her the exposure she wanted. That everyone had heard of her, at least in passing.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Baroness,” she returned the slight nod with a gracious smile. “I am Comtesse Isabella Devine.”

Bella lowered her eyes to the ground momentarily before glancing back up at the Baroness, finally shutting the book that she held in her hands. Escapism would have to wait another day. Bedtime reading, perhaps.

“I arrived at court only yesterday,” she replied the early question, still keeping the pleasing expression upon her face. The Baroness seemed agreeable enough and Bella was far from likely to pull ranks on her. “Have you been at court very long?”

[Slytherin-Girl]

A thirteen year old girl is really just that. A girl. While physically it is quite a possible that she could be considered as mature as any grown woman, mentally she is still just barely a teenager. That 13 year old girl had been Marie-Elisabeth, who had ironically been interrupted playing dolls with her eldest brother Joseph’s young daughter, when she was told she was going to be married. In a matter of months she went from being a carefree little girl playing with dolls, to being the wife of a man four times her age and all that entailed. And scarcely a year after that she was a mother; growing up fast had been an unavoidable fact of life for her.

All of these things of course meant that Marie-Elisabeth was certainly no stranger to the more carnal aspects of human nature. She did have a child after all, she was aware of how these things went. But all her insinuations and double entendres, despite their less than innocent nature, were perhaps an intentional concealment of ignorance. The more that you pretended to know the less people would question your knowledge. I was not that she didn’t want do dispel said ignorance, she certainly did, but it was that same lack of knowledge that was holding her back. She just wished she could figure out a way to voice that aloud that made as much sense as it did floating around in her head.

“It isn’t” she began, stopping her speech almost as soon as it began. For one of the first times in her life, words just didn’t seem to want to come out and of her mouth. She let out an annoyed sounding sigh and dropped back into her chair. She took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s not that I truly am reluctant, but in a way it also is. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense at all and I’m sorry but”. She paused for a moment, biting her lip and intently studying the pattern of the chair. “I’m just sorry” she muttered, still staring at the chair arm, marveling at how fast things had gone from bad, to good, and right back to dreadful again


(((OOC: Since when do any of the conversations these two have ever make sense :P Don’t worry, tis just fine Hope your head feels better

And yes Alissa, I am definitely the Queen of all things subtle)))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Gah! I should be in bed by now, but... I just... can't... help myself!
Oh, and, slytherin, did I tell you I'm OCD about your avatar? :D I can't read posts with animated avatars rolling, so I always press the "Stop" button to make them stop, and with yours, I just HAVE to make sure it stops on Anne's pic. *lol* (Yes, I'm weird. And proud of it, too!)))


As far as men goes, it has never been a secret that sometimes, they are simply blind. Especially when it comes to women. There are times when the fairer sex feel they could hit their men over the head with the most obvious of observations, and they would still not notice until two weeks later, or quite possibly when sensing from the curt and aggressive replies they were given when attempting to hold a conversation with their woman, that something was wrong. At that point, it would be time for the notorious question of "What's the matter?", with the equally notorious and hostile answer "Nothing", followed by a bit of snapping back and forth, perhaps even an appearance made by the classic "If you can't guess, I sure ain't gonna to tell you" comment that has been known to drive men up the wall. Only once that whole scenario had played out, would there - sometimes - be put an end to the bickering, and a reconciliation made.

Then there were of course the few times when hitting a man over the head with an observation would actually work right away. And this one, would be one of them. When Marie-Elisabeth collapsed back down into the chair and began muttering, not unlike a sulking child, it suddenly dawned on César that she probably was not as experienced as she would let on. It was even part of the reason why he had taken an interest in her in the first place. Yet somehow, probably helped along quite nicely by her way with words, it had eventually slipped his mind, and he had started thinking of her not as a young widow, quite possibly with her only experiences of carnal pleasures being the ones shared with her husband - the old git - but rather as a woman very much familiar with the things she so skillfully alluded to.
Ah, such a fool he was!

Unfortunately, things weren't exactly made any better by her rather insufficient and incomprehensible explanation.

No, this simply wouldn't do...

"How am I to interpret that?" he asked, deciding that in light of how the conversation was going, it was perhaps best to drop all the charades and insinuations, and speak fairly bluntly instead. "Sorry for not making sense? For indeed, you are not. Or sorry for being unable to the point of hopelessness to allow me to... physically express my admiration of your beauty and your wits?"

Then he gave an aimless wave of his hand, to suggest a wide array of other possible answers.

"Or sorry for something else I have yet to realize is a possibility?" he added. "And what exactly is it that feeds your reluctance? Me, the deed itself, or just simply the insecurity born of your lack of practice?"

[ElektraNatchios33]

((Hi everyone. First I'd like to apologise for dropping off the face of the earth. I've been staying after school until 5 everyday then having massive amounts of homework and family issues on top of it all. But I know that's no excuse, and I feel bad enough as it is, but I need to hold off for a post until this weekend. It's a 4 day one and i should have no homework or responsibilities then, which will be perfect for post writing.

Once again I'd like to apologise for any inconveniences on my behalf and for disappearing.

~Elektra

ps - I am aware I posted this twice, but some people are not in VtM))

[Slytherin-Girl]

In a way, Marie-Elisabeth was relieved at the way the conversation was going, and at the fact that her half muddled statements had made some sort of sense. She really didn’t think she would be able to concentrate on anything enough to come up with any more thinly veiled insinuations or concealed statements. But on the other hand, she was quite possibly about to embarrass herself in a most colossal fashion. There didn’t seem to be any way around it though, so she supposed that she was going to have to bite the proverbial bullet and get it over with.

“Sorry for a lot of things” she said, using what little self control she still had to keep her tone level “Sorry that I don’t make sense, it’s really not my intention to be confusing. Sorry that the only experience I ever had was from an old man who must have had someone in his corner up there to even father a son at all”.

She gestured up to the ceiling with her braceleted hand, finally looking up from the arm of the chair she had been so intently studying. “I’m sorry if anything that I’ve said made you think my attitude has anything to do with you because I swear it doesn’t. And finally” she said, twisting her bracelet around her arm in lieu of her necklace “Sorry that you’ve apparently somehow managed to figure the truth out and that I’m suddenly wishing I could just disappear to save from being completely embarrassed”.

After finishing the statement she realized just how true it was. The prospect of going back into hiding in the drapes of the bed was starting to look increasingly attractive to her. At least it would save what small bit of silly pride she had left and she wouldn’t have to face anyone else for the rest of the day. And it would give her time to try and figure out just how a façade that had been so perfectly practiced and cultivated for so long had been broken so quickly, and by someone she had only known for a few days. Though it felt like much longer to her. Some of the things she had just said she had never spoken aloud to anyone before and she wasn't quite sure why she had said them now; especially in a situation with such a huge potential to explode in her face.

She finally looked over at César, half certain she was about the same crimson colour as the upholstery she had just been looking at so carefully.


(((ooc: HAHA! This is seriously the best avatar I’ve ever had! And obviously it needs to be stopped on the best one! *snickers* I should be in bed right now too, but I had to get this in first!!

“What’s the matter” *NOTHING* “Okay then” *explodes* Oh lord, I’ve had that exact conversation way to many times to count.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine and Octavien - Not in a tree anymore! - The Palace Gardens

Joséphine was rather relieved to see Octavien's eyes regain their focus and his forehead execute a slight nod that signalled he had indeed heard her soft whisper. Eager to use any means available as a distraction from the sharp throbbing that had invaded her insides, the Marquise devoted her attention to his explanation of how and where they were going to climb down and reach the ground safely. Noticing the lower branch Octavien was motioning at, it occurred to Joséphine that a more cynical mind would have instantly suspected something not entirely truthful was going on, for it provided a more than solid foothold for even a less than nimble individual to use. Or, perhaps Octavien, like most, had absolutely no confidence in a woman's physical prowess, nor did he know of the boyish habits left behind in Joséphine's childhood.

It took Octavien less than a minute to disentangle himself from the tree's branches and drop to the ground, signalling that she should follow. Careful not to allow distraction and the eagerness to feel firm soil beneath her feet once more subvert the final act of this staged performance, the Marquise inched her way along the branch, little by little positioning herself in the proper descent position before dismounting, ready to slide to a lower level and, from there, into Octavien's raised arms.

Searingly aware of his hands climbing along her thighs in their search for her waist, Joséphine awaited the instant the Prince tightened his grip and simply let go of the branch, her arms finding stability on his shoulders as the rest of her slid against his body, joining them in what became, for a few fleeting moments, a close embrace, their breath mingling in the narrow distance between their faces. Although Joséphine's feet were planted firmly on the ground, she still felt as though part of her, possibly her stomach, had remained suspended somewhere in the branches above.

"He's bleeding!" exclaimed one of the women who had been watching breathlessly, and the spell was broken. Joséphine and Octavien released eachother at the same time, for the first time facing their “audience” which was by then buzzing with excitement. The Marquise's gaze fell on the ruby blotch that spread on the whiteness of Octavien's sleeve, alarm intruding in her expression: he was hurt indeed! Joséphine however knew that he must have received that wound somewhere else, having followed his movements from the moment his feet had left the ground until then – though it did little to lift her discomfort at the sight: he bled because he had rushed to help her. Even though the gathered courtiers probably knew it too, the likes of them thrived on the dramatic side of things and there was little doubt in Joséphine's mind the eventual rumour spreading would entail a vivid description of Prince Octavien Lahance tearing his arm open in his attempt to rescue the Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan from certain death, or something equally exaggerated. Such was the way of hearsay and rumours: they tended to grow more and more far fetched the further they got from the original source.

"Are you alright?" Octavien asked her "Would you like for me to arrange for a carriage to take you back to the Palace, or would you prefer that we walk? I'll send a servant to fetch your hat."

Nodding distractedly, Joséphine's brow furrowed momentarily as she forcibly brought her focus back on the situation at hand.

“Thank you, that would be fine” she answered airily. “I would rather walk, I believe some fresh air will do me good. Thank you...for everything.”

Glad to have left all the pointed stares and vicarious murmuring behind, Joséphine walked in silence alongside Octavien, somehow feeling convinced that if she were to speak, her voice would betray her thoughts, thoughts which currently relieved their stolen embrace just a few moments ago.

“Octavien...” the Marquise began, ready to address one of the safer matters that irked her mind “your arm...you should let...”she hesitated briefly “...someone dress it.”

Joséphine had been on the point of suggesting she dressed his arm herself, in an impulse of gratitude for his help, but in light of recent happenings, such closeness might have been ill-advised.

“Have you any idea where César might have gone to?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation towards safer grounds for them both. “I have not seen him all day, and he left early this morning, which, for César, is rather exceptional indeed.”

((ooc:


“Have you any idea where César might have gone to?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation towards safer grounds

Ah the irony! :lol: :giggler:


Aww poor Marie-Elisabeth. Do you know what's freaky though? Quite a few of César's actions and responses remind me of my boyfriend :blink: which is doubly funny because Atropa's female. *dons tinfoil hat* ))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: *lol* What can I say? They call me the 'man whisperer'. ;) And poor Octavien! The two of them will be the end of him! *s* Or his sanity at least.)))


With all his antics and escapades, many of them nothing short of mischievous and naughty, César had never exactly been prone to feeling the weight of a guilty conscience. With him, the little devil inside reigned supreme, and the little voice in the back of his head, the nuisance beckoning him to behave and be good, had been silenced a long time ago. The only times when he would in fact feel the sting of guilt, would be when in a moment of careless rage, he'd allowed his sharp tongue to move quicker than his mind, and he had ended up throwing something hurtful in the face of a friend, or even worse, of his wife. For while he was in many ways a pure-bred rascal, he wasn't really a mean or evil person, and though while he might not be the most humble man around, he would still offer an apology - a truly sincere and willing one - when he knew he had been at fault, or hurt someone he cared about. Even unintentionally embarrassing them, especially if he knew them to be somewhat fragile, could be the cause of such an apology.
As was the case now.

In just a matter of seconds, he had realized that in spite of his 'good' intentions, he had managed to unintentionally push Marie-Elisabeth into a position which she found to be highly embarrassing, and to confess to him things that really were none of his business. And as she looked up at him, with waves of scarlet shame washing over her pretty face, he knew that he was to blame, and for once the scales of his conscience actually tipped to "guilty".

"But such a shame it would be if you did", he said and his voice took on an even gentler tone, mirrored by a faint, reassuring curving of his lips, as he slowly crossed the few feet seperating the two of them, "... for it would indeed make the world a much duller place."

Reaching her chair, he squatted down next to it and carefully took on of her hands in his, gripping it so gently that once again she would be able to slide it away from him, should she want to, and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"Forgive me", he said softly. "It was not my intention to embarrass you, or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I simply... I suppose one could say I simply got carried away by my desire."

[Slytherin-Girl]

Pride was something that ran strong in the Normandie family, the chief example being Marie-Elisabeth’s own mother. Never mind that she had married into the family; that made no difference to her whatsoever. Every single one of her 16 children had been raised to be proud of thier heriatge and of who they were. To carry themselves in a way that showed everyone who saw them that this family was not one that showed any kind of weakness, or preferably didn’t have them at all. They were trained to be polite at all times, no matter how annoying or uncomfortable the situation was. To smile graciously when they wanted to smack the person they were talking to silly. To not tell other people if they were having problems, for that would imply a wekaness, but to solve them on their own. And above all, to never let that that façade have the tiniest crack in it.

Marie-Elisabeth had no doubt that her mother would be quite ashamed of the way she was acting right now, allowing the ever present calm demeanor she was supposed to display to crumble into little pieces on the floor. She could practically hear the angry voice in her head and that didn’t really help matters much. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s no fault of yours, only of my own” she said, taking deep breaths to try and get rid of the blush still spreading across her face “I don’t really know what’s come over me; I swear I’m not always like this”.

She then smiled and looked down at César . “I’m just immensely grateful that you somehow seem to understand what I’m saying. I know I probably make about as much sense as someone in bedlam and most people would probably laugh at me for it. It’s just…”. She paused for a moment to think, she didn’t want to be confusing again.

“It’s just that…well...for all I’ve said I do feel the same way I’m just…well I suppose you already know that anyway, I don’t have to say it”. Actually, she really didn’t want to have to say it aloud, her pride had taken to many hits already this morning for her to admit she was afraid of something. She just prayed to whoever was up there that he understood and she wouldn’t actually have to say it out loud.


(((OOC: Man whisperer *snicker* Very nice :P It really is amazing that you can write guys so well though Atropa. I can’t do it worth crap, and believe me I’ve tried. So kudos to you

And I've said it already, but poor poor Octavien)))

[funheart00]

---

With a small smile, Roseline took the small pause before the woman before her spoke again to allow her eyes to travel over her. In every classical sense, the girl was beautiful and didn’t hide it – though unlike many of the ... less blessed courtiers in that area she didn’t give the impression of spending hours and hours on end getting ready though.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Baroness,” the woman replied, a smile flickering across her lips that Roseline returned quickly. “I am Comtesse Isabella Devine.”

The Comtesse’s eyes lowered traditionally to the ground momentarily and quickly found Roseline’s and shut her book, a glimmer of regret, perhaps, that she would not be able to carry on reading after being interrupted crossing her pretty features.

“I arrived at court only yesterday,” she replied to Roseline’s question, a happy expression fixed on her face, though not as if it were forced. A forced smile could always be seen quickly, and in Roseline’s opinion appeared worse than if they had simply allowed themselves to appear how they felt, yet the Comtesse appeared perfectly at ease and quickly continued. “Have you been at court very long?”

A simple enough question but Roseline couldn’t help the corners of her mouth turn upwards in a memory of her earlier thoughts.

“Much too long,” she replied quickly, the signs of her small smile still evident on her lips. Yes, perhaps it had been a little longer than she had been expected to stay – but Roseline didn’t regret that, many men stayed on at Court for years and years, and suddenly Roseline felt a need to go into further detail just in case her statement had sounded too complaining though a smile had accompanied the words. She didn’t know if the young Comtesse standing before her would take it as mere light-hearted joking or whether she took Roseline’s words as pure fact.

“Some months now,” Roseline elaborated finally, “I adore it here too much to leave.” She said, a light laugh spilling past her slightly parted lips as the final syllables left her.

Yet her thoughts took her down a different path, about the previous thought on the young woman. So, this must have been the Baroness to arrive, and within her first hours in Court to gain a title. Roseline would hate for her thoughts to lead her down cynical paths about various non-innocent reasons that the Comtesse to have gained a title. Yet, for once she seemed to settle that it must have been a perfectly innocent reason. The corners of Roseline’s lips twitched upwards once more at this thought, once – well most of the time before the death – she would have jumped to the conclusion that it had simply been a covered up reason for someone so new to progress so quickly. She was glad of that part of her demeanour changing, well at least for this young woman.

Roseline shot another warm smile at the Comtesse as the light laugh’s faded and finally gave a pointed glance at the book that the Comtesse was reading when Roseline had interrupted her.

“I do hope I haven’t detracted from your enjoyment of the day too much. It’s wonderful weather – finally – to get out into the gardens.” Roseline said with another warm smile and glance around the garden’s for just long enough to see that the small knot of courtiers had almost dispersed completely now.


((ooc;; Alissa: No tangent I can see. Also let me know if you wanted to move them onto something different...

Also, sorry for the shortness and general incoherence of it. I blabber so much *s*))

[AtropaMandragora]

To be perfectly honest, while Octavien had his doubts as to the wisdom of Joséphine's desire to walk back to the Palace instead of having a carriage take her there, he was only too happy to leave the excited onlookers and the most annoying cacophony of voices behind. Offering Joséphine his left arm for once, to spare her from having to make the walk back supported by his injured right one and it's bloody sleeve, the two started slowly down the path from which they had both come not too long ago. All the while with Octavien keeping close watch on Joséphine's face for any signs that she might be about to collapse, mostly from out the corner of his eye to keep her from noticing, and with the only exception being a few seconds when he realized that the gathering of babbling courtiers had started following them like a trail of lemmings. He turned his head then to dismiss them with a warning glare, leaving them to think that he was still concerned about Joséphine and what dignity she had left, and thus wanted no more witnesses in case her decision would prove to be a foolish one, and she would end up passing out. Though it was only partly the truth, for while he was indeed worried about her, and didn't want her to have to suffer any additional humiliation, for the most part, he just wanted to get away from those nosey courtiers, and their incessant cackling that had started to eat through his skull and left him unable to hear his own thoughts. Thoughts that he desperately needed to hear, so that he could sort them out.

Luckily, it seemed that most of the courtiers realized that following the weary Marquise and the bleeding Prince was hardly the polite and proper thing for cultured nobility to do, and so they reluctantly fell behind, some of them still following from a safe and discreet distance, but most either stopping to keep exchanging juicy details, or hurrying off to pass the gossip on to friends and acquaintances.

In less than a minute, Octavien and Joséphine were granted blessed privacy, and Octavien breathed an internal sigh of relief. The experience from the other night in the Blue Salon were still memories fresh in his mind, and thus he'd had quite enough of courtly spectators for the time being, thank you very much.

At the same time, the new-found solitude posed yet another problem; that of the tense and uncomfortable silence inevitably bound to arise, following in the footsteps of what had just happened back there. A spark rekindled. A spark that they had both told themselves was long forgotten, gone, buried underneath layer upon layer of guilt and self-reproach, not to mention denial. The tension it - 'the incident' - had caused between them had been sorted and laid to rest the other day. But not the reason for it. Not the fact that it existed in the first place.
And now it came back to haunt them again, and add to the tension in the air. Simply because neither of them were like César, who, unbeknownst to him, was in turn one of embers that kept the spark glowing. Neither his friend nor his wife gave in to temptation as easily as he did, and they both felt it would be a betrayal if they did. Unlike César, who merely considered his indescretions to be his privilege for being born a man.

"Octavien...", Joséphine began in an attempt to break the silence, and Octavien felt a lump of ........ immediately lodge itself in his throat, in fear that she would want to talk about it.

Unlike the other day, when they had been riding in the forrest, he wasn't quite ready yet. His head was still spinning, and not only because of tangled thoughts eithers.
Much to his relief, however, Joséphine seemed to be on the same wavelength, and just as reluctant to address the issue as him.

"Your arm...", she said. "You should let... someone dress it."

She was completely unaware of it herself, but those were words that had pretty much the same effect on Octavien's senses as a bucket of ice cold water. A memory of Isabella instantly flashed before his eyes; of her sitting gingerly perched next to him on his bed, cleaning and re-dressing his wound while opening up to him in a way that she, according to herself, had not done with anyone else. And then him doing the same, confessing to her exactly what he had done to protect them both and their relationship, followed by a rather intense intermezzo, with Isabella's temper flaring and a slap burning harshly across his cheek, before it all suddenly began to ebb away, leaving only peaceful calm, and Isabella's soothingly soft voice lulling his senses to sleep, and her head resting heavily on his good arm.

She had only been gone for less than a day, and already he missed her. In truth, he had missed her long before she had even gone in the first place, for even though she had been there, he had not gotten to see her. Not alone. The King, the Queen's mother and Duc d'Lorraine had always been there to turn the exchange of gentle words and carresses, even their communicative glances, into an impossibility.

Was this why he felt so drawn to Joséphine? Was her appeal to him only the effects of his longing for Isabella, a way for his heart and his senses to express feelings whose true nature he could not afford to even acknowledge at this point, in fear that the look in his eyes might somehow betray him? Even though they looked nothing alike, was it Isabella he saw when looking at Joséphine?
It seemed plausible. Somewhat far-fetched, but plausible. Especially since he conveniently neglected to take into account the fact that the attraction had already been there months before, long before he had fallen for Isabella, or even met her. Deep down he knew it, that he was only fooling himself with thinking there was a connection between his feelings towards Isabella and his attraction towards Joséphine, but... right now, such self-deception was simply the most comforting option. And, there was of course always the minute possibility that there was a grain of truth in it; that there was a connection, and the spark between him and Joséphine had indeed been buried so carefully, that had he not missed Isabella so, it would never have come back to life...

"Have you any idea where César might have gone to?"

With Octavien having been too wrapped up in his own thoughts for it to occur to him that perhaps Joséphine had been awaiting an answer to her first comment - for Octavien to do his part in smoothing things over - it seemed Joséphine made yet another brave attempt.
Sadly, and unbeknownst to her, it only took things from bad to worse for Octavien. He knew perfectly well where César 'might have gone to', but he couldn't exactly tell the truth. No matter how annoyed he was with his friend and those womanizing ways of his, Octavien just couldn't betray his confidence, and hang him out to dry. Nor could he stand the thought of lying to Joséphine's face. Especially when he didn't want to take sides, and doubted that he would have been able to even if he had wanted to. In this matter, he was on Joséphine's side, as he did not condone cheating in a marriage that was filled with love and affection. But César was one of his very best friends.

"I...", he slowly started, and managed quite well to mask the frown her question had caused, as being a slight wince of pain, as luckily, he was just inspecting his bleeding upper arm, gently feeling and examining the area around the cut with his fingertips, but stopped to turn his head and look at her. "I think he said something about having a few things to take care of."

Not a lie, but a truthful reply so vague that neither party could blame him, should César's current doings and whereabouts come out somehow.
Still, it was probably best to change the subject again. Just to be on the safe side. And as it turned out, Octavien had the perfect excuse for doing so, without it seeming too sudden, as the matter was a bit of an urgent one;

"Will you allow me to escort you back to your suite?" he said just as the Palace entrance came into view from behind one of the tall hedges, and then added with a bit of an bitter sting in his voice as well as in the faint smile curving his lips; "Even though I suspect that if I do not promptly return to the privacy of my own, I shall have another lecture coming, as I do believe it is rather unrefined of me to have the audacity to bleed."



(((ooc: *random burst of happiness* I got the DVD box of the first season of The Tudors yesterday! Yay! *happy dance*)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Okay guys, I believe it's time for our courtiers to move on to Afternoon since it is Thursday, but I see no reason for most of you not to continue the arcs we're currently involved in, if that's what you want.

[Alissa888]

Bella watched as Roseline’s lips began to mould into a distant smile as she lent herself to memories. It seemed as if the other woman had been at court very long indeed, much longer than Bella in any case. And she obviously had had quite an experience.

“Much too long,” she said with that half-smile still lingering on her lips. Much too long and yet she somehow seemed to have definite pleasant memories associated with this place.

“Some months now,” Roseline continued after a short pause, perhaps feeling the need to explain her ambiguous statement. “I adore it here too much to leave.”

And yet the laugh that followed the statement seemed almost a scoff. Roseline appeared to be divided between the idea of delving into court and running from it, a similar predicament to most people unless they were cunning enough or simply ignorant. The problem lay in the fact that it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. Well, at least Bella could claim not to know the difference between the two and she was astute enough to assume she was the latter while everyone else was the former. While that always let the shadow of doubt linger in the back of her mind, it never stopped Bella from being charming and amicable.

Bella found herself the recipient of yet another warm smile from the Baroness. It was most certainly refreshing to experience sociability at court, but it was always a double edged sword. For her time at the English court, Bella had learned how the smiles always hid calculations, assumptions and plans. Perhaps that was just the English. Or perhaps the French hid even more. Either way, that mask of sociability was nothing to be compromised on and Bella made sure to keep the pleasant, welcoming look over her features.

“I do hope I haven’t detracted from your enjoyment of the day too much. It’s wonderful weather – finally – to get out into the gardens,” the Baroness continued, looking over the suddenly abandoned gardens. Bella realised that she had caught onto the fact that she’d held some regret about not finishing the book. Ah. It was no fault of the Baroness’s and of course, Bella would prefer the transient human company to that immortalised in the pages of a book. For now.

“No, not at all, Baroness,” she gave an assuring smile to Roseline. “I’m sure I’d enjoy the day far more with good company.”