The Vipers' Nest - A Baroque Court RP [Closed] - Announcement post #303

[Ghanima Atreides]

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/Vipers_banner.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 truly are dark days In the Palace of Light and Air.

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/roleplay_button.jpg

The Vipers' Nest welcomes one and all to its fourth instalment!

Previous versions:

The Baroque Court (http://forums.sims2community.com/showthread.php?t=48353) hosted by eternal_sunshine

The Vipers' Nest (http://forums.sims2community.com/showthread.php?t=53323) hosted by Shennanigans

The Vipers' Nest, Court of Lies and Deception (http://forums.sims2community.com/showthread.php?t=56724) hosted by Fayereview



As concepts and ideas evolve in time, so has this roleplay, shifting from its original premise into a more freeform style where characters' agendas are as diverse as they come, encompassing more than just the old goal of becoming the King's Advisor.

As such, this new re-incarnation of The Vipers' Nest proposes some changes to the format, aiming to make the game both more flexible and easier to understand.

So, what has changed?

-The struggle for the position of King's Advisor is no longer the core goal of the roleplay; but it isn't removed – the King still needs an advisor, and it remains an attractive possibility for any high-ranking noble who wishes to gain the monarch's ear and even more influence! The difference is, if someone is interested and eligible, they may try, through roleplay, to achieve it, by first PMing me with their idea for approval and then putting it in practice – please only do it if you intend to be active.

Which courtiers are eligible?

*Ducs and Duchesses

If a character becomes the Advisor but is inactive for more than a month real time, they will be demoted and can be replaced.

-Scandals are no longer decided or made known through a randomiser and may be uncovered by any Courtier through roleplay. However, no God-modding (see below) ! Give the other person a chance to defend themselves. Players are encouraged to discuss scenarios in PMs, and remember – nobody is invincible, bad things happen in life, so, the more scandalous your character's behaviour and/or past is, the higher the chance they will be exposed!

-Pre-existing scandals aren't compulsory, but encouraged, since they give your character depth and help with the purpose of this game. This may change if too many people refuse to create a scandal for their character.

A more in depth explanation lies below:

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/scandals_button.jpg

Severity:

Minor Scandals: These scandals have to do with flirtations, having relations with a commoner, duelling, and blackmail.

Major Scandals: These scandals have to do with infidelity, murder, treason and stealing from the King.

In the past, Baroness Venn was the one who dealt with scandals, both learning about them and making them known to others. Since the Court lacks a designated snoop, the problem needs a different solution while keeping it fair for both parties.

In a court as populated and diverse as the Palace of Light and Air, walls often have ears. As a consequence, if your character engages in some sort of illicit behaviour (talking about it, even if it is a past event, with another courtier counts), there is always the chance of being seen, or overheard. The more public the setting, the higher the chance. If a character witnesses such indiscretions, and plans on making it public, they must first approach the one(s) involved to give them the opportunity to try and protect their secret. This can range from a mutual agreement, to a bribe, blackmail, threat, and so on. The chances of success depend on how persuasive each Courtier is and the pre-existing relationship between the two (people who dislike you will be more difficult to convince, obviously). If the attempt fails and the scandal comes out, it is assumed the news will reach the King's ear; as such, your character loses a rank and their reputation attains a stain. But, despair not! There will be opportunities to redeem yourself later.

Keep in mind what's possible and what isn't when you attempt to uncover someone's scandals: barging into someone's private suite isn't realistic, witnessing a stolen kiss in an empty public salon is. (an example) Discretion goes a long way, and it may save your character a lot of misfortune if you are careful (at least, for a while until someone starts noticing frequent visits to your suite....)

Since the danger of god-modding is great, the final decision will be reviewed by me, unless the players confirm it was a mutual agreement, something which is very much encouraged to do. We're here to have fun, remember that.

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

A few select individuals with access to the King may offer him suggestions received from courtiers. These suggestions, sent formally by PM may or may not reach the King's ear depending on the decision of the Suggestion Maker (if he or she has an interest in forwarding your message, the chances of success are increased; equally, if your character is disliked by the Suggestion Maker, the note might never reach its destination...) and a randomizer. If your suggestion has made it through, the final outcome is also decided by a randomizer.

Possible suggestions: gaining a title, receiving a gift of money

Suggestion makers: Prince Octavien Lahance, Baron Larkin D'Marius and Elena Lahance (contact either Atropa, FurryPanda or Ghanima Atreides)

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/ranks_button.jpg

Duc & Duchesse – 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 may have a major scandal.

Marquis & Marquise – Wealthy and powerful as they may be, they are still a step away from the pinnacle of influence at the Court. Each character of this level starts with 70,000 livres, and may have a major scandal

Comte & Comtesse – 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 may have a major or minor scandal.

Baron & Baronesse- 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 may have 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. They may have a minor scandal.


How are titles gained?

-If your character has distinguished himself or herself through gameplay, or has gained the appreciation of someone closely connected to the Royal Family, they may be awarded money, or a title depending on the importance of their gesture.

(Active, dedicated members will have their chances increased)

-There is also the possibility for characters to use rather more insidious means to advance, such as blackmail, particularly if they are aware of a scandal pertaining to a character who might be able to provide them with one...

- Money makes the world go around. It costs 40,000 to gain the title of Baron/Baronesse from an untitled state, 60,000 livres to buy your way up one title from Baron/Baronesse to Comte/Comtesse 70,000 to ascend from Comte/Comtesse to Marquis/Marquise and 80,000 from Marquis/Marquise to Duc/Duchesse.

Additionally, you may request an amount of money 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 you ask for or half 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.

The court accountant is Monsieur Tobias Benedetti

How are titles lost?

-A minor scandal made public knowledge (and thus reaching the King's ear) equals a loss of rank
-A major scandal uncovered equals the loss of two ranks (unless your character happens to be a Baron or Baronesse, in which case they loose both a rank and half their money. Untitled characters aren't likely to be involved in major scandals, but should one arise, they might face bankruptcy)

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/format_button.jpg

Each roleplay day is split into three; Morning, Afternoon, and Evening. These will be operating on a 7, 7, 6, basis. Which basically means each morning and afternoon equal a week in real life; evening is one day shorter. This will allow ample time to roleplay each storyline.

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/rules_button.jpg


-All characters must be at least 16 years of age.

-All RPs must have a minimum of 8 lines, excluding those quoted from another post. 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.

-Be respectful towards eachother; God-modding and powerplaying will not be tolerated

-Keep things PG13; that is no explicit sexual and violent situations

-If you plan to be inactive for more than a week real time, let us know so that your RP partners may move their character(s), and if you wish to retire, please take the time to provide an exit for your character.

-Have fun!


http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/applications_button.jpg

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 courtesy to remove your character from the RP to allow others to join. Do not be surprised if your character is removed 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 a sim)

After you submit your application, you have the option to PM me your character’s given scandal. This is the scandal they begin the game with.


------------------------------------------------------------------------

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/courtiers_button.jpg

--+Ducs and Duchesses+--

Christine du Fontaine, Duchesse D'Avignon (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1190904&postcount=4)



--+Marquis and Marquises+--

Joséphine de la Vallière, Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1190903&postcount=3)

César de la Vallière, Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1190962&postcount=8)

Marquise Marie-Elisabeth de Valois (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1190903&postcount=3)


--+Comtes and Comtesses+--

Comtesse Isabella Devine (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1190904&postcount=4)



--+Barons and Baronesses+--

Baroness Adele Rousseau (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1194047&postcount=41)

Baronesse Amelie Christinne de la Rougemont Chateau (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1228998&postcount=214)


--*Untitled Characters+--

Jérémie Tison (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1244127&postcount=288) -Page/Manservant


--+Other Nobles that do not currently fit anywhere else+--

Lady Brigitte de Royan (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1249014&postcount=298)

[Ghanima Atreides]

Maps pertaining to the Palace of Light and Air and its surroundings:


http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/PalaceMap_UpperFloor-1.jpg

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

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/PalaceMap_LowestFloor-1.jpg

(names will be added to the suites as applications are re-posted)



-History-


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 d'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.

Princess Adalita 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 Adalita 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 Queen's lover.*

The Princess and Octavien are married.

Adalita falls Ill.

Baroness Flight, reverts to her Maiden name, Venn.

The Queen plays the doting step mother.

Princess Adalita 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, Baron Larkin D'Marius.

Prince Octavien receives news of his engagement to the Spanish lady Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre from an unsympatheticDuc D'Lorraine.

Baroness Venn makes the decision to leave the Court and join her sister in England.

*Marquess Berini is assasinated at the hands of Duc D'Lorraine

Prince Octavien Lahance and Elena Sánchez are married

Baron Larkin d'Marius, Isabella's Voice-in-Court returns to his family estate which had fallen into disarray at the hands of a corrupt steward

* events that you know but your character might not know

Proeminent Characters:

The King Edouard Auguste Louis Rotherham IV

Age: 42

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/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.


Dimitri-Josèphe, Duc d'Lorraine
Age: 48

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/dimitri.jpg

The King's old friend, Dimitri, is quite opposite of the King in nearly every way imaginable, fortunately this means you can indeed talk to him, and perhaps sway him, even gain his appreciation.

Larkin d'Marius, Baron de Aurvilies (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1191039&postcount=9)

Age:34

An ambassador to a far flung place and the much younger brother of the Duc d'Margoles, hand picked by Juliet de Margoles to be her Daughter's Voice-in-Court.

Prince Octavien Lahance (http://forums.sims2community.com/showpost.php?p=1190958&postcount=7)

Age: 21

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/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, then Prince through his marriage to Princess Adalita. Now that she has passed away he has found himself inopportunely married again, to a woman not of his choice.

Princess Elena Lahance (http://forums.sims2community.com/showthread.php?p=1190915#post1190915)

Age:26

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Ghanima/RP%20Contests/Elena2.jpg

Spanish by birth, Elena has maneuvered herself into a marriage to France's Prince Octavien, thanks to her father's acquaintance with King Edouard and her own limitless ambition.


Proeminent courtiers no longer available:

Princess Adalita

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

Queen Isabella Rotherham

Age: 23

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a356/Velvet_Velour/Vipers%20Nest/ProperIsabella.jpg

King Edouard's 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, due to poor health.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Name: Marie-Elisabeth Valois

Title: Previously Comtesse de Valois, now Marquise

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. She does have an impressive talent at card playing though, and those who venture to play with her often find their purses much lighter after the game.

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 has a particular weakness for beautiful clothes. She also has a strong sense of pride, and won't tolerate people who don't know their place in the world or presume to be above it.

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

[Alissa888]

Name: Isabella Devine

Title: Baroness when she arrived, now Comtesse

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

********--------------------------------------------------------------------------********

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.

Though impeccably ladylike, she is intimidating, authoritative and ambitious to a frightening degree.

Picture:
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y84/Alissa888/Christine.jpg

[Ghanima Atreides]

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

Name: Joséphine de la Vallière

Title: Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan

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 Lahance (née Sánchez de Suárez y Torre)


Name: Elena Lahance

Title: Princess (through her marriage to Prince Octavien Lahance)

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....

Not much later, Elena embarked on a permanent trip to France, as the Prince's soon-to-be wife, which she very recently has become.

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

Picture:

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

[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

[AtropaMandragora]

Name: César de la Vallière
Title: Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan
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, Joséphine 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.)

[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 profound 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 efficiency.

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, and having been responsible for deflowering a few women he shouldn't have gone near, went to court. After a year he was appointed ambassador to Zimbabwe, ostensibly for experience abroad, but actually because the bastards he fathered were starting to want more than the stipend he was giving.

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 friendship 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 (Hopefully)

[Slytherin-Girl]

In all honesty when she initially made the comment about the horses, Marie-Elisabeth had been referring to the animals. It was only afterwards that she realized how apt the descriptions seemed to match César and herself, and covered up her shocked amusement with a giggle. It really was funny how she had ended up with a pretty golden coloured horse, which seemed perfectly happy to wait until they were ready to go. While he had gotten a much darker coloured stallion, one that the stableboy seemed to have difficulty in keeping under control.

She had been quite unable to control her less than innocent mind when he had helped her into the saddle of the horse, and was sure her abbess sister Marie-Anne would have dunked her in the baptismal font full of holy water if she could hear them. She of course noticed that his hand lingered around her waist far longer than most would consider necessary or even proper, but she really didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, the close contact was really starting to make her wonder why she had acted like such a scared little girl this morning in the first place.

The reigns securely in her hands, she concentrated on staying properly up in the saddle as he got onto his own horse. She had hoped most of her childhood experience would come back to her, and she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself. After her marriage to Charles, riding hadn’t really been encouraged to her at all due to the belief that it was one of the leading causes of miscarriages. And there were no chances taken with her being, at least she had heard it said, the last chance for Charles to produce a son and heir.

Marie-Elisabeth had, to her relief, found that her assumption was largely true. The way she was supposed to sit, how tightly she was to hold the reigns, it was still right there in her mind. And after re assuring César two different times that she was perfectly fine, the two of them set off on the roads leading away from the palace.

"Why, Comtesse de Valois", César soon said, in a teasing way that made her laugh "I believe you must have played me for a fool when saying you were out of practice. You're doing quite well."

“No, I really haven’t done this in quite a while” she said, smirking and tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear “I used to go all the time with…”. She paused for a moment, not really wishing to bring up the memories of her father again. She was in such a wonderful mood there was no way she was going to take the chance of dragging herself back down into it again. ‘Well I used to do this a lot when I was little” she finally continued, shaking her head slightly “I suppose it’s one of those things, amongst others, that all you really need to do is get back in the saddle and try again and it all comes flooding back to you”.



(((OOC: First RP post in the new thread! HUZZAH! We’ll still have the banker aspect in here as well right? I was thinking of making a visit: P

And Lahance stud farms? *dissolves into snickers* Okay, bad bad thoughts there. Whaaaat? The prince is pretty dang good looking you know :P)))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin decided, upon looking more closely at the girl's attire, that either she was casually dressed-eccentrically so- or could not afford better. He would not act on his assumption of the former of course- judging natives' stature in Africa and judging courtier's status in France were two very different things, but it gave him some gorunds for comparison in case he did need to act on an assumption of station.

She spoke again saying "A pleasure to meet you, Monsuier Larkin. You may call me Padme." in that same elusively melodious accent. That further confirmed Larkin's initial opinion; the words were too clipped for anything but a commoner, and the French too good for it to be foreign.

She fell silent for a few moments, and Larkin was perfectly content to gaze about idly, even on a plain stretch of lawn with naught but a rose trellis and the forked tree, the air was scented in a charmingly woodsy way and Larkin was quite pleased to stand there and inhale. A grin flickered momentarily and- to his companion, inexplicably- onto his face. The sun was shining, it was a lovely day, so far his companion did not seem particularly insane, what wasn't there to smile about? The fact his reasons were perfectly good did not make the grin linger however.

He realized soon after that there had been a stretching silence, and for a moment he fumbled as to whether he should fill it, but, happily, Padme took that off of his hands by saying self consciously, "Lovely day isn't it? I was inside most of yesterday, so I figured I'd catch up on fresh air."

Larkin allowed a smile to creep onto his face, thsoe were his thoughts exactly. "Of course Mademoiselle Padme, the weather was rather bad for afternoon strolls yesterday. It is a delight now that the weather's broken though, I only recently arrived here, and haven't had a chance to view the gardens in much detail. The gardeners truly must be outdoing themselves."

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Lahance stud farms? As in, more than one Lahance stud? *snickers along with Robyn*

Oh yeah I added the accountant system again. I figured it's a helper for everyone, as it'll not be that easy to earn money in game.

Also, yay! New thread! Welcome back everyone! I'm still adding things and getting all details in order, I slightly updated the scandals section. ))


Octavien, Joséphine and Bella - the Palace Entrance Hall

Faith.

Joséphine felt it drain out of her along with that choking icy feeling in her gut, a fragile flower torn irreverently out of the ground with just a simple gesture. All of her hopes of a new beginning for hers and César's marriage, nurtured for weeks and weeks since the first whisper of a prolonged visit to the Royal Court reached her ear were reduced to ash within the blink of an eye. Nothing had changed. Instead it had only been transferred: a different home, different women...same sordid game.

Joséphine struggled to keep a scarlet flush from spreading all over her face, but a rising heat in her cheeks belied the blank, expressionless mask which currently had her dainty features frozen in place. All too suddenly, the crowds pressed in against her like a living, moving, smothering blanket of lace, silk and brocade, causing the young Marquise to wish herself somewhere else, far far away, where she did not have to face them and most of all Octavien, who knew her secret. Well, considering the rate César was going at, it would hardly remain a secret for long.

Joséphine was robbed of that, too: at least, whilst she lived at the Mont-de-Marsan family estate, she could separate her life from that of César's mistresses, creating a false, though comforting cocoon around herself where she could retreat and pretend his absences all had perfectly innocent explanations. Even if deep down she knew better, it made everything easier to bear.

Now however, it was impossible: they lived under the same roof, albeit a large one, and as it had been proven already, confrontation was unavoidable. Not only she had seen them go off into the sunset chatting merrily as though neither had a care in the world, but she would no doubt encounter the Comtesse again, either in one of the salons or the dining room, forced to look her in the eye and keep playing the game of pleasantries. But that was hardly the most difficult part: no, she would have to slip into bed that night and feel César's arms around her, his lips and his breath on her skin, possibly even listen to a made up story of why he had been absent all day. Joséphine did not know if she would be able to control herself.

Looking down at the torn and tattered fabric of her lavender gown, the Marquise was invaded by a deep, bitter feeling of disappointment: they had concocted that daring plan together, imagination running wild helped along nicely by alcohol, a plan which had seemed supremely ingenious and clever then. However it had been Joséphine alone who had to face the difficult part of putting it into practice the following morning, risking not only her reputation but possibly her well-being and – a hand instinctively sought her still flat abdomen – the life of a possible unborn child. And all the while, César had selfishly taken advantage of the situation and slunk away to woo Marie-Elisabeth de Valois, not even caring to know whether anything good had come out of it, or even if his own wife had emerged unscathed.

At that moment, the Marquise came closer than ever before to questioning César's love for her, and her own for him.

Joséphine was rescued from the deep dark pit she was spiralling towards by the unexpected arrival of Baroness Devine. At first she did not notice her among the many other faces, but she soon made her presence known with a light-hearted comment aimed no doubt at their dishevelled appearance, something Joséphine had almost forgotten about. Soon however the somewhat bemused joy twinkling in Bella's eyes was replaced by a look of growing concern as she discovered their injuries were in fact, very real.

“My goodness, are you both alright?” Bella whispered in her worry, “Has anyone seen to your injuries?" before adding decidedly: "We must see to these right away."

Joséphine inspected her arms as though seeing the scratches for the first time, several thin, superficial gashes that glared raw pink against her pale skin. They no longer truly pained her, but they remained remotely irritant. It occurred to Joséphine that most ladies worked up a fuss over a pricked finger, and that she was probably expected to have them treated, but in her present state of mind, the Marquise felt very unwilling to force even more restraint upon herself.

“Good evening, Baroness” she greeted with a thin, mirthless smile. No point in being rude as well to the poor woman, already anticipating an awkward moment when they would have to explain just why they looked as though they had crawled through a thorny bush. “Oh these? No need to worry yourself over them, they are barely skin deep. I have already suggested to Octavien that he had his cut tended, but I'm afraid the gentleman in him prevailed and he insisted on keeping me company a while longer.”

[Alissa888]

“Good evening, Baroness,” Joséphine’svoice and countenance seemed somewhat lacklustre and devoid of the sociability that had been present the night before, suddenly bare and vulnerable like a soldier stripped of his armour. She must have been hurt even worse that she looked, Bella decided. Or something else was playing on her mind, something enough to mask the injuries that most ladies of court would writhe about. She decided not to ask regarding the cause of their wounds, the first priority was to get them both some help, even if she had to do it herself.

“Oh these? No need to worry yourself over them, they are barely skin deep. I have already suggested to Octavien that he had his cut tended, but I'm afraid the gentleman in him prevailed and he insisted on keeping me company a while longer,” the Marquise continued on in the daze that had seemed to have overcome her during Bella’s approach. Bella felt her eyes glance back to the growing bloodstain on Octavien’s clothes. Granted, that did look somewhat more serious, but Joséphine seemed equally affected in other ways.

“A Prince by name and nature, then,” Bella slid an appreciative smile Octavian’s way before glancing between both her patients. The other courtiers seemed to carry on regardless of the rather alarming appearance of the Prince and the Marquise while Bella stood there compelled to do something about it. “It’s no trouble, Marquise. I feel it would be better to err on the right side of caution.”

It probably wasn’t persuasive enough and glancing back at the scratches on Joséphine’s arms, she knew it was best to have those tended to, along with Octavien’s wounds. It would be a lie to say Bella was a stranger to treating injuries, days of anarchy at the Abbey did not see the young girls walk away from their escapades unscathed. In fact, Bella had been lucky she did not scar or bruise easily and for those that did, her treatment became mandatory. Of course, escaping exposure in their raucous acts did mean that Bella had to learn the tricks of the trade when it came to being the makeshift physician.

“It won’t take very long, I’m sure,” Bella encouraged, again forming a compromise between looking at Joséphine and Octavien. Right now, her concern lay in getting the both of them some deserved treatment, but Bella could not help but wonder the reason for Joséphine’s depression of spirits. She found herself looking over at Octavien in help to persuade the stubborn Marquise to accept the treatment she may well need; those scratches did look fearsome against the pale skin that they had been inflicted upon. Then again, there was the possibility that she’d stumbled onto an awkward situation that didn’t need the input of a third party.

(((OOC: Hope there are no problems with that. Please let me know if you'd like anything changed, :)
P.S. I agree with Furry, poor Jo!)))

[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.

http://www.modyourpanties.com/images/080614184155-AnneBoleyn.JPG

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Wow Poor oblivious Bella... And poor cuckolded Josephine! *grabs popcorn and tissues* :p))

[AtropaMandragora]

There was only one word to describe the feeling welling up within Octavien as he and Joséphine were making their ascent up the marbled steps of the Palace stairway, and she suddenly froze, causing Octavien to turn to look at her in slight confusion, wondering at the sudden stop, until his gaze fell on the sight that had just all but hit the young lady by his side square in the face; horror. Complete and utter horror.

Making their way out the grand doors of the Palace entrance, were none other than César and the Comtesse de Valois, both of them too engulfed by what seemed like rather merry conversation to notice the other couple watching them. Apparently, for some reason. César had decided that not only was it a good idea to chase a woman living far closer to him and Joséphine than any of his mistresses had ever done before, but that another equally good idea was to be seen in public getting along very nicely with said woman. For everyone, including Joséphine, to see.

Horror. There really was no other way to describe the feeling that gripped at Octavien's gut. Horror at witnessing the one scenario that just could not happen, horror at failing César, horror at seeing realization dawn on Joséphine, horror at witnessing the look on her face, of congeniality and warmth shatter under the sledgehammer that was heartbreak. Even long after César and Marie-Elisabeth had disappeared through the doors and out of sight, she remained frozen to the spot, staring at the doors, but seeing nothing.

What did one say when disaster struck like this? Especially when one had known it was happening, but had given no warning? Octavien searched frantically for something that he could possibly tell her to ease her shock, or her pain, but nothing came to him. He kept drawing blanks.
Instead, it was Joséphine herself that was the first to speak;

"You do not have to say anything. I know why you couldn't have told me."

The words came slow, and were uttered with such omnious calm and detachment that it felt as though the iron fist that had seized Octavien's gut, suddenly tightened it's grip.

"Joséphine...", he started, almost stuttering her name, unsure of whether her words meant she understood, or simply felt she knew by assuming that Octavien's loyalty laid with César, and that he had thus played along willingly with César's doings. "I... I'm sorry..."

There really was nothing more he could possibly say. The damage was done, and if Joséphine didn't know that Octavien had been a most unwilling participant, it was hardly a good time to try and explain anyway, as it would do little good right now, considering Octavien's attempt to cover for César was not what hurt her the most. She simply would not be susceptible to any explanations, at least for a while.

And, just as though fate had suddenly decided to intervene and put the whole situation on hold, it was just then that a familiar voice was heard from a few yards away;

"You know, there's a time, place and attire for adventure..."

Approaching them was the young brunette with the amiable and relaxed demeanor Octavien had had the pleasure of meeting the day before, and gotten to know a bit during the course of the evening. Bella.
Though no matter how pleased he was to get to meet her again, right now, he wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or increasingly distressed. Considering what had just happened, Joséphine would hardly be in the mood for socializing, and quite frankly, neither was Octavien. But at the same time, the interruption was a most welcome one, as neither the Prince nor the Marquise had seemed ready to say something else, and were most certainly not comfortable with the sudden and suffocatingly tense silence.

Yet even when Bella had reached them, and Octavien saw her eyes widen as she took in their entire appearances where they stood in all their dishevelled misery, he still could think of nothing to say. He wished he could have thought of something fairly witty, to try and smooth things over and spare Joséphine the observation Bella might make, that the Marquise was clearly not in the best of moods. But yet again, Joséphine was the first of to regain her composure, and as he watched her retreat behind her mask of pleasantries, it occured to Octavien that such skill did not come without alot of practice. Practice most likely offered by her husband's indescretions... Octavien knew she had realized a long time ago that César might not be entirely faithful to her. But could it be that she knew alot more than that, and had simply mastered the skill of pretending she didn't? When seeing César with the Comtesse de Valois, she had seemed shocked, but not all that surprised. And considering the two had merely been walking and talking, it would take either a person of an incredibly jealous nature to react the way she had, or a person who knew they had every reason to be concerned.
Joséphine had never appeared to be the jealous type.

Greeting Bella with a simple nod and a gentle smile, as he himself had practiced his wearing of masks almost to perfection, especially as of late, Octavien then listened in silence as Bella expressed her concern about his and Joséphine's injuries, and as Joséphine tried to dismiss her own, firmly but cordially.

"A Prince by name and nature, then", Bella said in response to the Marquise's comment regarding Octavien's own stubborness, and flashed him an endearing smile, before continuing; "It's no trouble, Marquise. I feel it would be better to err on the right side of caution. It won’t take very long, I’m sure."

By now, Octavien had joined in the studying of Joséphine's scratches, and while they would hardly be life-threatening if going untreated, he did have to agree with Bella. If infected - Lord knows what had crawled around in that tree - they could become quite a nuisance, and add yet more to the burden on a slender pair of shoulders that really did not need it. Joséphine's burden weighed quite heavily on them already.

"I agree," he said and gave a nod as he registered the way Bella looked at him, as though seeking his support on the matter, to try and persuade Joséphine to get her cuts looked after. "Skin deep or not, no harm can come from having someone tend to them."



(((ooc: Sorry, kind of bleh, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. Will try and have something up for César later, but no promises.)))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: After this RP, I don't think I'll ever be able to look at horses the same way again. :D Yes, Lahance stud farms. *nod* That's how Octavien's family made their fortune.)))


Riding slowly away from the Palace and it's court, so far keeping to the main road, there was a beautiful landscape opening up before the eyes of César and Marie-Elisabeth. Early spring had begun painting the surroundings with the colors of new life; the light, healthy green of leaves and grass, sprinkled with the white, blue and yellow of early season flowers such as crocuses, irises and dandelions. The sky above a radiant blue, and the gentle caress of light from a sun that was minutes away from announcing the start of it's descent towards the horizon.

It was a most vivid and breathtaking visual. And yet, most would say such beauty was indeed wasted on the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, since his focus was currently not on the scenery. At least not the one consisting of trees, bushes and vast, open fields. His gaze kept lingering on Marie-Elisabeth's slender form, presumably to be quite the attentive instructor. And he really was. He just happened to make sure that he would make the most of the opportunity that was offered along with it; the opportunity to watch her as much and intently as he pleased.

The only exception he made, was whenever his attention was torn away from her by the temperamental beast he was riding. The impatient stallion seemed to want nothing more than to burst off into a wild gallop, and had he been alone, César would've let those desires loose a long time ago. He too loved the thrill of riding at breakneck speed, and leave all inhibitions behind while freedom embraced his very being, in the form of the wind flushing his cheeks and ruffling his hair.
But, he wouldn't, for even though Marie-Elisabeth appeared to be a far better rider than she had given herself credit for, he doubted very much that she was ready for such a wild chase.
Another time maybe? Because he very much intended for there to be more times like this one. Only they would have to happen far less publically than this one had. Being seen together with a young, pretty lady such as Marie-Elisabeth would probably have gotten rumours started already, unfortunately, and being seen with her repeatedly would be considered 'confirmation' of such rumours. Neither of them could afford that. César because of Joséphine, and Marie-Elisabeth because as a lady, her reputation was far more easily tarnished than his.

"No, I really haven’t done this in quite a while", Marie-Elisabeth assured him in response to his playful accusation/compliment. "I used to go all the time with..."

Suddenly she stopped, as if having caught herself about to say something she felt she shouldn't. And sure enough, when she continued, she did so by re-phrasing;

"Well I used to do this a lot when I was little", she concluded, and shook her head ever so slightly, yet enough to make that rogue lock of golden hair that was giving her such trouble, seem as though it was about to escape from behind her ear once again. "I suppose it’s one of those things, amongst others, that all you really need to do is get back in the saddle and try again and it all comes flooding back to you."

Unable to resist a renewed smile at her efforts of keeping that golden lock under control, César let a soft chuckle slip between his lips, deciding to pretend as though he hadn't registered that slight pause of hers. He'd already made the mistake of pushing her too far once, when a victim of that tunnel vision often caused by male desire, and he would not make the same mistake again. Or at least twice in the same day.

"Indeed, it does seem like it", he said and gave a slight but firm tug at the reins to keep the fidgety stallion from falling into a trot, before giving Marie-Elisabeth a glance that looked simply too innocent to be sincere, coming from César; "But alas, if that is truly the case, I take it you shall no longer require my assistance?"

[ElektraNatchios33]

((hahahahaha, Lahance stud farms....wish we had those around here...hehehe))

"Of course Mademoiselle Padme, the weather was rather bad for afternoon strolls yesterday. It is a delight now that the weather's broken though, I only recently arrived here, and haven't had a chance to view the gardens in much detail. The gardeners truly must be outdoing themselves."

Larkin smiled as he said this, but Padme couldn't figure out why. But was there a reason not to smile? Padme's suite had only a small window, not enough to glance up from her book and see outside, so good thing she planned to stay indoors and get settled.

"Truly. I only just arrived yesterday morning, I can't wait to see them in action. When did you arrive yourself Monsuier Larkin?"

[FurryPanda]

She answered, much quicker this time, seeming to actually be involved in the conversation as opposed to the surveying of the garden. Then again, who could blame her, lovely though the carefully maintained trellis was it was not something to hold a young lady's eye for a great while, unlike the nostalgic old man that Larkin seemed to be rapidly becoming.

"Truly. I only just arrived yesterday morning, I can't wait to see them in action. When did you arrive yourself Monsuier Larkin?"

Larkin was about to attempt to disect her accent again, but he gave it up as a fruitless cause, and besides which, the day was too lovely to obsess over social status, especially since so far she did not seem to be doing so. "I too arrived yesterday morning."

He saw at once that that was a rather blunt way to phrase it, mayhaps the more proper thing to do was to inquire after her journey, or some such. Either way, it almsot sounded to him as though he wished to end the conversation, not that she had given him overmuch to work with. A light of inspiration kindled, he could kill two birds with one stone rather easily given this conversational lull. "You arrived yesterday you say? Where from? I confess that your accent, lovely though it is, is unfamiliar to me..?"

Not to subtle... but ah well, it would do for his purposes. He suspected very highly the woman was common, or above her station of birth, and if not then he would be able to talk his way out of it.

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Guys, just a heads-up, I'll be somewhat less active between June 15 to 19 than normal. Apologies in advance!)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth was all but certain that if her mother could hear her thoughts at the moment, she would be shipped off lock, stock and barrel to join Marie-Anne in the convent. Not that she would ever allow it of course; no she had already done her duty by her family and was determined not to have to do it again. She had already evaded it once, about a year after Charles died and her mother attempted to get her betrothed again. The man in question was intended as a husband for her older sister Marie-Josephine. But when she unfortunately passed away after an outbreak of smallpox, their mother had decided Marie-Elisabeth would be the replacement. But Marie-Elisabeth wouldn’t listen to any of it. She didn’t want to get married to another old man and wanted to devote herself to raising her son. And somehow, she had managed to persuade her mother that was better.

And right now, Marie-Elisabeth had to agree that not being shackled down with a husband was far better than having one. A husband certainly would have objected to the game she was so enjoying right now, and probably would have stopped it all together. She certainly didn’t want that, there was no fun in stopping a game just when it was getting interesting.

“Oh no, quite the contrary” she said, returning César’s glance and tugging on the reigns of her horse to keep him at a steady pace “Just because one has proved to be a halfway competent rider, doesn’t mean that there isn’t much more to learn. I’m afraid your assistance will still be very much required. After all, practice makes perfect, does it not”?


(((OOC: I can’t look at them the same way either, I can;t even hear the word ride without giggling now! LOL. And where is said farm by the way? Errrr purely for curiosity’s sake……yeah that’s it…..Octavien has a brother riiiiight? ;)

And I keep having to look up the names I have for her siblings, make sure I don’t re use them, add details of what I have used, the word file I have for details is like 3 pages )))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: The stud farms are located in Gascony (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gascony) , where both Octavien and César are from (if you look at the map, you'll even see the modern town of Mont-de-Marsan. ;) ). )))


"Oh no, quite the contrary."

It would seem César's statement had the much desired and anticipated effect, of having Marie-Elisabeth assure him that his skills and 'services' would indeed still be needed for a while yet. And having her do so with a glance that let him know that she saw right through that angelic facade of his.
Well, really, he had expected no less of her, since he had made it quite obvious to someone with a mind as similar to his own that there was far more hidden underneath his innocent inquiry than it would perhaps seem to someone truly virtuous. Although... There was a kind of slyly lecherous flame dancing in those vibrant blue eyes of his, that would require one to be deaf, blind and stupid to miss the full extent of his words.

However, luckily, that didn't matter, as with their progression along the rather deserted road, came the freedom of no longer being watched, neither openly nor in secret, by anyone. There was no longer need for charades to keep up appearances of there being nothing improper going on. And if there were charades, it was simply because César and Marie-Elisabeth both seemed to enjoy them. It added yet a bit more excitement to their game of coquetry, toying with words and innuendos, and was one of the very things from which their connection had sprung in the first place. Thus, in a way, charades seemed inevitable.

"Indeed it does, Comtesse", he said with a nod, and allowed a satisfied smile to spread on his lips. "Indeed it does. Please rest assured then that I will do my best to remain at your disposal."

Pausing, he watched as she quickly took control when the stallion's energy seemed to start to rub off on the gelding, and then gave her an appreciative and encouraging nod, silently commending her slight but firm maneuver.

"Now", he then continued, and the moment he opened his mouth again, that subtle mischievous tone found it's way back into his voice at the irony of what he was about to say; "I hope you don't find me too bold, but as it seems we are to spend some time together, will you allow me to call you by your first name? I do find the use of titles to be somewhat... reserved and distant."

[Slytherin-Girl]

"I hope you don't find me too bold, but as it seems we are to spend some time together, will you allow me to call you by your first name? I do find the use of titles to be somewhat... reserved and distant."

Now that was something Marie-Elisabeth wholeheartedly agreed with. As much as she was a stickler for showing the proper respect to a title, and never trying to presume to be above yours, in a situation like this one it hardly seemed to matter. Even if their game wasn’t in play, César didn’t seem like the type of person who cared overly much for them. And honestly, neither did she.

“Oh I wouldn’t deem it too bold at all” she said with a smile, as she attempted to focus her attention back on her horse. It would be just her luck to fall off and make a complete fool of herself “In fact, I’d prefer you call me by my name. I much prefer it to being called Comtesse. Especially by those I intend on, as you put it, spending time with in the future. Titles do seem dreadfully impersonal in such personal situations don’t they?”

This time when she looked over at him, the smirk was indisputably there. Perhaps not quite as much as it had been in the past, because she was still slightly embarrassed by the events of the morning. But it was as close as it was going to get right now, and she was sure it would still have the desired effect. “I do hope Marquis” she added “That this means I can call you by your name as well”.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine, Bella and Octavien - The Palace entrance hall


It was to be expected that sooner or later, the state of Octavien and Joséphine's garments, not to mention their injuries would begin to attract some attention from nearby courtiers, and more and more stares and whispering surrounded them like the buzzing of a swarm of agitated insects. Adding to that Joséphine's state of bitter disappointment and underlying anger after having seen her darkest suspicions realized, Octavien's horror at being caught between his loyalty towards his close male friend and his wife he may or may not have had undisclosed feelings for and an utterly oblivious Baroness Devine who knew nothing of it and only insisted on seeing that Joséphine's wounds received treatment, and one could hardly imagine a more tangled and cumbersome situation.

In a possible attempt to smooth things over, if only marginally, Octavien too devoted his attention to a more careful examination of Joséphine's scratches, expressing his agreement with Bella's advice.

Deep inside, well beyond the turmoil currently raging supreme, the Marquise was aware they had a good point and cleaning those scratches was a matter of caution, yet when she finally gave in, it was for a different reason: what she wanted was relief from all those inquisitive stares currently directed at this oddest of trios.

“All right, all right”, Joséphine said a little impatiently, regaining the usual smooth flow of her speech almost immediately after that, “I was about to retire, but I have changed my mind and wish to stop by my daughters' suite instead. There are bandages, water and antiseptic there, a small caution when travelling with children. You may join me if you wish, and Bess our housemaid who is quite the expert at tending cuts and the like can look after our injuries”, she said, briefly glancing at Octavien, “I would prefer to avoid the fuss of summoning a physician. If you aren't opposed to a brief wait and two young children, you are welcome to join us, Baroness.”

((ooc: sorry, it's kinda bleh, and I hope the ending works.))

[AtropaMandragora]

Restrictions, reservation and distance being the last thing César wanted ruling his conversations with Marie-Elisabeth, as well as any other 'encounters' that the future might hold for the two of them, César was pleased to find that once again, the Comtesse seemed to share his sentiments. And not only that, she also allowed him to glimpse that smile that during their rather brief acquaintance, so far, had begun turning into something he very much looked forward to seeing, whenever it was not already present.

"I do hope Marquis", she concluded her agreement, "that this means I can call you by your name as well."

To that, he first gave simply a nod, he himself feeling, much like her, that he would much rather have a beautiful woman address him by his first name than by his title, or even as 'Monsiuer de la Valliére', as the use of first name held a magic of it's own, as far as growing intimacy was concerned.

"Of course, Marie-Elisabeth", he said, wasting no time after having been given her blessing to make use of that beautiful name, and pronouncing it as though he was carefully tasting it on the tip of his tongue. "In fact, I insist that you do."

That being said, he darned near gave a slight yawn, as a quick glance around the surrounding landscape and the setting sun alerted his subconscious that nighttime was approaching, and that there was a previous night of no sleep whatsoever behind him, that should be taking it's toll on him right about now, if not sooner. Though he managed quite successfully to suppress it, and much to his relief too, as yawning in a lady's company, regardless of the reason, would hardly be considered a compliment to said lady.

Still, with darkness only an hour or so away, and his vigor now dwindling, it would probably be best to return to the Palace. Funny, how it seemed they had only been riding for minutes, when in fact they must have left the stables behind quite some time ago. It would only go on to prove that whoever said that times flies when one is having fun, had not been exaggerating.

"I regret to say it", he said and shot the increasingly firey horizon another glance, before turning his gaze back to Marie-Elisabeth, "but it would seem that evening is upon us, and as much as I have enjoyed our ride, I do believe we best start turning back."

[Slytherin-Girl]

With the exception of those she was blood related to, Marie-Elisabeth could probably count on both hands the number of people that she let call her by her given name. Everyone else called her Comtesse de Valois, or at the very least Madame, without fail. Because if they didn’t then there would be problems. She wasn’t one to let anyone pretend to be overly familiar with her whom she didn’t know well. But present circumstances of course, were a unique exception. And one she did not mind making in the least.

Although among those that called her by her given name, only her mother, more elderly relatives, and occasionally older siblings would actually use the full version. Most often she would just get called Elisabeth, or Lisabeth. It had been a necessity to shorten their names in childhood. Having eleven girls that all had first names starting with Marie got to be confusing. Not to mention their mother being a Marie as well. She was about to mention the fact to César, but he spoke first.

"I regret to say it, but it would seem that evening is upon us, and as much as I have enjoyed our ride, I do believe we best start turning back."

Herself finally turning to look at the vibrant sunset, Marie-Elisabeth was surprised to find that she hadn’t noticed it before. In fact she was quite surprised it was this late at all. It really only seemed hours ago that she had been awoken and told she had been delivered a note, and now the sun was setting and it was getting dangerously close to being dark outside.

“Regrettable indeed César” she said, tearing her eyes away from the sunset “But you are right, we should get back to the palace. I didn’t realize it was quite so late, it seems as though I’ve gone and monopolized your entire day again. How absolutely dreadful of me”. Of course her tone of voice made it obvious that she thought it was anything but dreadful, as well as the grin she made when she carefully turned her horse around on the path so that they could make their way back to the palace.

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: I hope this is all okay. Feel free to have her go to the suite :) )))

"I agree," Octavien joined in on Bella’s lobby to get the Marquise and the Prince tended to, having understood the said and gave a nod as he registered the way Bella looked at him, as though seeking his support on the matter, to try and persuade Joséphine to get her cuts looked after. "Skin deep or not, no harm can come from having someone tend to them."

“All right, all right,” Joséphine reluctantly caved in once she’d considered her options and whether the other two were intent on being as stubborn as herself. “I was about to retire, but I have changed my mind and wish to stop by my daughters' suite instead. There are bandages, water and antiseptic there, a small caution when travelling with children. You may join me if you wish, and Bess our housemaid who is quite the expert at tending cuts and the like can look after our injuries.”

Her gaze then momentarily wandered over to Octavien, as if he was expected to derive further meaning from the look as Bella had expected of him. Bella could not help but wonder whether whatever Joséphine had been disheartened over earlier – though her recovery had been most rapid and efficient – had something to do with Octavien or César and Marie-Elisabeth’s departure.

“I would prefer to avoid the fuss of summoning a physician. If you aren't opposed to a brief wait and two young children, you are welcome to join us, Baroness.”

“Most definitely, Marquise,” Bella accepted, having proposed and insisted on the idea in the first place, she really did have to ensure that it played out properly. She glanced over at Octavien, her eyes falling on the injury that has escaped deserved attention thus far. “We really should put a tourniquet on that as soon as possible.”

[AtropaMandragora]

Completely surrounded by onlookers, it was difficult indeed for Octavien to find an outlet for the things he wanted to say but have only Joséphine hear, or attempt to offer her some comfort in order to try and soothe her torment somehow. It was such a futile task, that finally, his worry about the inner pain she must be experiencing, simply manifested itself the only way it could, with so many witnesses watching, and Bella well within earshot; as concern for Joséphine's outer injuries, be they 'mere' scratches or no.

Not that they were not deserving of such concern, but much like he suspected was the case with Joséphine herself, his thoughts were on far different, and, as it would seem to the both of them, more serious matters. Matters whose existence neither of them wanted to let on, even infront of Bella, regardless of how sweet and understanding she seemed. Maybe even because of it. There was nothing like heartfelt sympathy, to make even the strongest walls of restraint crumble to dust, and knowing Joséphine, she would hardly want to suffer the indignity of a public display of tears or rage. Not now, not ever.

"All right, all right", she finally conceded, sounding in that instant as though she was still fighting to stay in control of her emotions, or at least the showing of them - and who could blame her?

But then in a flash, she seemed to find some kind of stability within herself, and was back to her usual, amiable self, inviting the Prince and Bella both to her daughters' suite, where Octavien and Joséphine herself could have their injuries properly looked after. Bella, still seeming rather concerned and eager to get Joséphine's scratches tended to, immediately accepted, and then added, with a glance at the still slightly growing ruby blotch on Octavien's white shirt;

"We really should put a tourniquet on that as soon as possible."

Having temporarily lost all awareness of his own injury in the disarray of emotions caused by having Joséphine see César with Comtesse de Valois, it was only then that Octavien himself glanced down at his shoulder again, and realized that Bella was probably right. Though in a sudden and very brief moment of bitter and gloomy self-reproach for ever going along with César's infidelity instead of trying harder to put an end to it, as the three of them started moving towards the suite currently housing the de la Valliére girls, Octavien muttered something to himself about how it seemed most fitting somehow. But whether 'it' was looking after the cut, or bleeding in public, his cryptic mumbling did not reveal.

No more than two minutes later, the three of them arrived at the suite, guided there by Joséphine, and they all slipped inside. Only to have two excited girls immediately storming towards their mother and 'uncle Octavien', apparently overjoyed to see them both, and still not in bed, despite their nanny's best efforts.

"Mama!" Angélique called out, raising her arms demandingly towards Joséphine, while her sister assaulted all three of them with what seemed an endless flood of statements and questions, making it difficult to know what was directed at whom;

"Who are you? You're pretty. Papa says you are a prince now. Are you, oncle Octavien? Do you know my papa? Mama, where is papa?"

Confusion still complete for the most part as to who should be answering what, that last question was clearly directed at Joséphine, and Octavien found the smile on his lips at seeing the lively girls again, stiffen somewhat as Adéle gazed expectantly up at her mother. Trust a sweet oblivious child to add salt to an already open gash...


(((ooc: Sorry if it's messy, and rushed, but I have to get going for a little while, and wanted to get this in first. If it's too confusing, let me know, and I'll do my best to explain or clean it up. Also, if it doesn't work, or either of you had other plans for what would happen, let me know, and I'll change it.
Also, César coming soon, promise.)))

[AtropaMandragora]

It would seem that César had not been alone in finding that he had apparently been oblivious to the rapid progression of time. Judging by the surprise overtaking Marie-Elisabeth's features when his words made her turn to gaze at the horizon as well, she too had lost track of time; yet another thing that César would happily take credit for. And why wouldn't he, when her company was to 'blame' for his own ignorance? Such things did often work both ways. If one had the way with women that he had, of course. There were always the poor sods that could be so completely captivated by a woman's beauty, that they remained equally oblivious to the fact that she was trying her very best to get away from them.
César, however, had never been one of them, nor would he ever be. Self-proclaimed expert on women that he was, he figured it would be a cold day in hell before his charms stopped working their magic on the fairer sex.

"Regrettable indeed César."

Marie-Elisabeth's voice, and most of all, the sound of his name passing through those luscious lips of hers, instantly brought him back from his figurative patting of his own back, and he flashed her his most charming smile in appreciation. Though it soon faded gradually, due to the current topic; returning to the Palace and parting. Such a shame indeed. César really was quite ready to spend a few more hours yet in Marie-Elisabeth's company. But, it would be too soon for her, that much he had learned during the course of the day. Besides, he really ought to return to Joséphine and make sure that she was alright, even though he was certain that she was, or else he would have been otherwise informed by now.

"... it seems as though I’ve gone and monopolized your entire day again", Marie-Elisabeth concluded, looking just as innocent as he had seconds ago, but sounding anything but. "How absolutely dreadful of me."

At that, César's own smirk made itself known by stealing slowly across his lips, her words and tone of voice having dragged his mind right back into the gutter. Or the area around it, at least.

"Dreadful indeed", he said, in that same tone of voice which spoke of an opinion quite the opposite. "Perhaps I better try and teach you some proper manners instead?"

However, wanting to spare her the possible discomfort of going down that road again, he gave only a moment's pause before continuing;

"As for any future riding lessons... Please, I ask you not to think ill of me for saying this, as I have only the best interest for the both of us at heart, but I believe that from here on we better not be seen riding off together, lest we risk setting tongues wagging."

[Slytherin-Girl]

By now, Marie-Elisabeth was certain that even bathing in holy water wasn’t going to do anything to clear her mind of the naughty thoughts dancing through it. Not, of course, that she would actually consider doing it. Oh no, she was enjoying them and there was no way she wanted them out of her thoughts any time soon.

Hearing César say "Perhaps I better try and teach you some proper manners instead?” just sent them into overdrive. Just because she was, by her own admission, not very experienced, didn’t mean she was unknowledgeable. In fact, her mind was starting to conjure up a few very interesting mental images of just what his statement could imply when she was interrupted by him speaking again.

"As for any future riding lessons... Please, I ask you not to think ill of me for saying this, as I have only the best interest for the both of us at heart, but I believe that from here on we better not be seen riding off together, lest we risk setting tongues wagging."

Marie-Elisabeth knew he was right. It wasn’t as though people wouldn’t be talking already, there had been a rather large crowd gathered around the palace entrance when the left. And seeing a man like César go off with a pretty young woman like her had more than likely, as he said, started tongues wagging already. And then there was the issue of his wife. The Marquise had already shown that she wasn’t overly fond of her, and Marie-Elisabeth wondered just what she was going to think after today. After all, her husband had been gone all day; she had to wonder where he had been. Marie-Elisabeth was already anticipating the no doubt interesting encounter that would occur when they next met. Which when they lived in such close quarters was going to be unavoidable. Not that she minded, as she was never one to back down from any kind of challenge.

But unfortunately, she knew César was right, there would be a greater need for secrecy in the future. But that didn’t stop her from being disappointed about it.

“Oh no, I understand” she said, as they continued their journey back to the palace “I’m sure that there will be other opportunities for lessons though. It is a rather large palace, and despite the old saying that the walls have ears, it shouldn’t be overly difficult to locate places where the walls don’t have said appendages”.

[AtropaMandragora]

All things considered, César would have to say that the day so far had been quite a good one. Despite the involuntary and unplanned lack of romance. When running off and leaving Octavien to 'distract' Joséphine earlier, he had been quite determined to get far better acquainted with a certain young lady that had sparked his interest. And even though he had, it hadn't been quite in the way that he'd had in mind.

Not that he could complain, for he had indeed enjoyed himself thouroughly, disregarding that one particular incident that had found him and Marie-Elisabeth both a bit flustered. Though it really had provided him with knowledge well worth learning, for it offered some very useful insight into the mind of this particular young woman, and that was something for which he could only be grateful, as it was sure to serve them both well in the future.

A future that, judging by what she had to say about their next encounter and the walls that would be surrounding them, was not all that distant. For as far as César knew, the only place where there would be walls around, was indoors. And indoors, one did not go horseback riding. Which could only mean that in the future, their acquaintance might already start to extend beyond simple riding lessons. So to speak. A most promising prospect indeed, albeit a somewhat unexpected one, given that certain turn of events earlier this morning. He had not expected her aversion to wear down quite so soon and sudden.
Although, just because she hinted at something, it wouldn't necessarily mean that she was ready to follow it through, or even meant it the way he interpreted it. Communication between the sexes could sometimes be as difficult as had they spoken two very different languages.

Still, whatever they may or may not do, it best happen out of sight and earshot of those other nosey courtiers, for Time had indeed seen quite a few foul rumours started over much less than a young man and a young woman being observed talking or walking together on a few occasions.

"The Palace might be a preferrable place to dwell, as far as comfort and luxury goes", César thus replied with a faint smile, somewhat reverting back to his original plan, the way it had looked when he had first come to see her, "but do keep in mind, that it is not the only place for two people to meet."

[Ghanima Atreides]

ooc: Just so everyone knows, Morning will be called tomorrow!

Bella, Octavien and Joséphine - Suite d'enfants de la Vallière


When the trio finally turned around to follow the smooth, glistening marble steps towards the upper floor of the Palace, Joséphine was forced to restrain the impulse of simply storming on as quickly as her feet could carry her. Despite the fact that both Octavien and Bella had adopted a fairly swift pace, the Marquise was seized by that oddest of dream-like sensations of walking much, much too slow no matter how fast one tried to move forward.

At her side, Octavien paced the floor in subdued silence; only once did Joséphine hear him utter a low grumble, though the words glided past her. The initial shock was lessening, allowing the consideration of other factors besides César himself. Octavien had known all along, and as much as she wished to spare herself more reasons for being miserable, or find another target for that anger bubbling inside, there was no denying the fact that he had lied to her, even by omission. In full knowledge of his friend's intentions and whereabouts, he had chosen to cover for him and deceive her.

The Marquise wondered how willing a participant the Prince had been in the entire thing, perhaps more willing than his stammered apology had alluded at. Regardless of how much she tried to picture him as a reluctant accomplice, the uncertainty lingered, adding to the sickening feeling of betrayal.

As for Bella, if she had glimpsed any of the tension surrounding them, she gallantly kept it to herself, something Joséphine was privately grateful for. She was not in the mood for explanations.

At long last, Joséphine's peripheral view glimpsed the door which belonged to the suite Adèle and Angélique, together with Bess, shared. As they passed through, the incessant hum of conversation was dimmed, replaced by a duet of youthful voices, chirping with excitement. The two girls, whom Bess was trying to coax into their beds, leapt to their feet and rushed over to meet their guests.

“Mama!” Angélique exclaimed, reaching out to Joséphine with her tiny arms. The Marquise bent down and coiled both arms around the girl's waist, lifting her up into an embrace and holding her there a few seconds as she gently rocked her. This simple gesture of affection, feeling her daughter's tiny heart beat against her chest drained some of the poison from Joséphine's wound, granting her a measure of peace. Eyelids fluttering, a distant smile found its way to those white, dry lips before carefully setting Angélique down.

In the meantime, Adèle was bombarding Bella and Octavien with endless questions and comments, seized by a rush of childish excitement. A light smile was once again blossoming on Joséphine's lips, but was cut short by the most simplest of honest questions that could come from the mouth of a child:

“Mama, where is papa?"

The tiny girl looked up at her mother with her wide, questioning eyes, the classic picture of unspoiled innocence. It caused Joséphine's heart to quiver painfully as she lowered herself to Adèle's height, cupping her cherub's cheeks in her palms:

“Papa cannot come to see you now, beloved” the Marquise replied softly. “But I promise that tomorrow he will be here when you wake up. Now-” she added a little louder “how about you two show Oncle Octavien and Baroness Devine what good girls you are and get to bed? Young ladies need plenty of sleep to grow tall and beautiful.”

Adèle and Angélique hesitated, but obviously the presence of two adults who were not their parents, one of which a stranger kept them from protesting. Deciding to encourage them some more, Joséphine added:

“Now, what do you say?”

“Bonsoir, Oncle Octavien! Bonsoir, Baronesse!” the two girls chanted as they dropped a shy curtsy and headed back towards their beds, where Bess tucked them in.

“I'm sorry,” Joséphine told her companions, particularly Bella who was a recent acquaintance, “they are so easily excited and full of energy. One can only marvel at the strength of a child's spirit. Bess! Could you assist us please?”

The old woman arrived quickly at her mistress' call, her eyes widening slightly with apprehension both at the sight of their injuries and that of the Prince of the Kingdom standing a few meters away. Not wasting a moment, Bess fetched water, clean linen and a bottle of antiseptic attended to their injuries with rough though nimble hands that spoke of long experience in the field. Several minutes later, Joséphine's arms had been washed, her scratches burning dully, and a clean bandage had been fitted on Octavien's arm. With a bow, Bess retreated, and the Marquise turned to face her companions:

“I do not wish to be rude,” she began, glancing apologetically from Bella to the Prince and back, “but it has been a fairly eventful day and I would like to retire for the night. Octavien, thank you again for your assistance, and Baroness Devine, I hope we meet again soon.”

((sorry, the ending is kind of rushed, and but I didn't think what else we could do considering it's almost morning time.))

[Slytherin-Girl]

The palace was quickly appearing in front of them, getting closer and closer and they went. Marie-Elisabeth was both relieved and annoyed by this. Relieved because with the approaching evening it was starting to get rather chilly, and her current dress wasn’t particularly one built for warmth. It almost made her laugh to think that she would have been warmer in the outfit she had originally put on this morning. The reason for her annoyance with the prospect of returning to the palace, however, was far more obvious.

It would mean departing her current company, and that was a most dismal prospect indeed for she had really enjoyed herself over the course of the day. Admittedly she was surprised that she had, days when she started out in a mood like she had today rarely turned out anything but a mess. Thankfully this one hadn’t and, perhaps what was more important to her, she had managed to successfully weather what could have been an extremely embarrassing incident. It was an immense relief to her that, despite her strange explanations and outbursts, César had somehow understood what she really meant.

"The Palace might be a preferable place to dwell, as far as comfort and luxury goes", César had said, distracting her from contemplating the rapidly approaching palace "but do keep in mind, that it is not the only place for two people to meet."


She turned her head over to look at him after he finished speaking. “Of course it’s not the only place, but it indeed is the most comfortable” she said, nodding her head “But thankfully when one grows up with 15 siblings, one develops a certain talent for finding places without eyes and ears. It’s almost a necessity or else you’d never have any peace and quiet”.

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Atropa, I hope it's okay that I made Octavien and Bella walk on, however, I left the middle bit ambiguous in case you wanted to add anything. If there are any problems, let me know :) )))


Bella was unsure of exactly what was going on while the trio made their way towards their destination. Whether it was Joséphine unnaturally fast pace at her advance to the suite or Octavien’s practically inaudible grumbling beside her, Bella could not help but return to her contemplation as to what had transpired before she’d entered the scene at the staircase. Perhaps it was that, defying Bella’s ever curious nature, that the Marquise simply wanted to see her daughters as soon as possible after what was clearly an ordeal and that the Prince was somewhat adverse to bleeding in public. Or perhaps there was something else.

As they entered the suite, Bella, Octavien and Joséphine found themselves attacked by two beautiful young girls who’d made it a point to defy their hapless nanny. At the sight of their guests, the sisters had decided to divide and conquer as one ran to her mother while the other launched the Spanish Inquisition on ‘uncle Octavien’ and Bella. Bella could not boast proficiency with children, being an only child herself, and her time at the Abbey saw her as a ringleader and commander rather than a sister. However, these two girls seemed somewhat far from the little monsters children were made out to be and perhaps that was just for first impressions. Well, she would try at least.

“Mama!” the youngster in Joséphine’s arms had exclaimed, wanting to be picked up immediately by her mother. The de Vallieres seemed to be a close knit family, and as expected Joséphine was every bit the maternal creature she seemed to be and the sight of her children had done wonders for her previously subdued demeanour.

“Mama, where is papa?" the girl who had been launching questions at Bella and Octavien turned to her mother, suddenly, in expectation of an answer. There, the joie de vivre broke like a mirror that had been shattered with a sledgehammer. She could feel Octavien assume an uncomfortable stiffness beside her while the smile froze on the Marquise’s face before she composed herself and walked over to her other daughter.

“Papa cannot come to see you now, beloved,” she told the girl, kneeling to her level. “But I promise that tomorrow he will be here when you wake up. Now-” she added a little louder, perhaps for the benefits of her guests. “How about you two show Oncle Octavien and Baroness Devine what good girls you are and get to bed? Young ladies need plenty of sleep to grow tall and beautiful.”

Now there was no doubt to it, César was at the root at this problem and there was little doubt to it. Perhaps it was his affiliation with a certain Comtesse that was the crux of the problem?

The girls conceded to their mothers request and retired to bed with cordial good night wishes, leaving Joséphine to make unnecessary apologies for her young daughters and allowing them to proceed to see to the injuries with the help of Bess. Following that, the Marquise made a quick apology and excused herself to bed.

This left Octavien and Bella standing outside the suite, having bid their farewells to the Marquise. Rather unsure of where to start the conversation, and still somewhat guilty at interrupting the privacy that Joséphine and Octavien may have needed earlier, Bella lingered in silence for a few moments while contemplating which subject to approach with Octavien; the reason for Joséphine’s depressed spirits or what she had noticed over his injuries. The former was frankly no business of hers; what happened between the Marquis and Marquise was their private affair and Joséphine had been somewhat majestic in handling the sudden truth of her husband’s possible infidelity. The latter was something she’d seen for herself and was more curious about. Perhaps, she was being a coward over it, but Bella caved in to her better judgement.

“About earlier,” she started, not looking at Octavien directly, but at the corridor before them instead. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?”

She stayed silent for a moment, biting slightly on her lip as they walked and she immersed herself in the possible ways of which she could address the question to Octavien without seeming too probing.

“And I couldn’t help but notice,” she turned to him, looking directly as her mind finally clicked into place. “Your wound, its a few days old. There was some healing.”

She paused again, justified, given that the next part of her question was more delicate than its predecessor as the nature of the wound had been more worrying than the timing of it.

“It was clean cut, as if made by a blade,” she finally uttered, glancing pensively down at the arm before her honey brown eyes glanced up to meet Octavien’s azure orbs. It was an uncomfortable topic, surely, if the wound had been made by a blade and Bella momentarily regretted giving in to her curiosity. However, her attempt at lightening the conversation found its way to her in the form of a slight impish smile over her lips.

Men and their little wars. She could imagine that [b]Octavien[/s]'s cut was the result of a display of male pride, if anything.

“Pistols at dawn?” she asked, almost whispered in the quiet corridors, only half-joking.

[AtropaMandragora]

In life, there will sometimes be days that you remember only as a string of frozen moments of time - fragments seperated by hours you know where there but don't remember - rather than a smooth flow of doings and conversations, of chores carried out and duties fulfilled, of relaxation and enjoyment, together forming a continual story of what your day has been like.

To Octavien, this was one such day, consisting only of the first sentence in randomly chosen chapters of the tale that was his journey from dawn to dusk. Being coaxed into covering for César, finding Joséphine dangling precariously in a tree, seeing the look on her face as she discovered the truth that he himself had helped keep from her, and now the violent death of the only genuine smile he could remember seeing on her lips that day.
The culprit?
Not a snide remark from some gloating courtier, not an impatient dismissal that she was simply imagining things, not a lie told by César in an attempt to reassure her that he had not been doing what he had been doing. Not even a truthful confession.
No, the culprit was a question as innocent as they came, asked by purity itself in the shape of a girl who simply missed her beloved papa, and could not in all fairness be called a culprit at all.
Yet, it had the same effect as a violent stab of a dull blade; painful, and ultimately lethal to the smile that had dared to venture across Joséphine's lips.

Once again that cold hand of steel twisted Octavien's insides until he almost physically winced, feeling his heart fill with sympathy, and his gut with churning guilt. Perhaps it had been for better if he had just been honest and told her. No matter how much he had wanted to spare her the pain and the embarrassment, by trying, he had only managed to make things worse. For not only had she caught César enjoying the company of another young beauty, but she had also been lied to, even if it was indirectly, by someone who she considered a friend. Though perhaps not anymore...

"Papa cannot come to see you now, beloved", she told her eldest, once again regaining her composure and answering the question as though there was nothing wrong at all.

Just like any good mother would, to spare her children the worry and the frustration often caused by the knowledge that something was not right, but not understanding what it was. From there, she went on to send the girls off to bed, and only once that was done and the small children were no longer at risk of being exposed to the sight of blood and an open wound, nor of their mother being tended to as though she was sick, did she request her maid's skills in cleaning scratches, and in Octavien's case, cleaning and redressing a cut.

Though while Bess was indeed as able a nurse as she was fast, her skill did little to lift the sudden awkwardness that filled the room for a moment or two, when it became obvious that Octavien would have to partly undress in order for her to see to his cut. It hardly seemed proper, for the Prince to rid himself of such intimate articles of clothing infront several ladies, neither of whom was wife, betrothed, or even lover.
The moment soon passed, however, as Octavien decided that right now, he didn't give a hoot about conventions. Joséphine had seen him barechested on a few occasions before, as a direct result of some of the shenanigans he and César and the rest of their small gathering of close friends had gotten up to over the years. And Bella... Bella had come across as being of a similar mindframe as Octavien himself, and thus would, hopefully, not be a whole lot more bothered by it all than Octavien himself was. Not that he was perfectly comfortable with pulling his shirt over his head with two women he hardly knew present, along with one with him he had recently shared a rather... intense couple of seconds. But, he did realize that the best thing to do, was indeed to remove the shirt; not only in order to have the wound more easily tended to, but also because it would be for the better if he changed shirts altogether. And it just so happened that a trunk of César's clothes had ended up in the children's suite, thus providing Octavien with a shirt to 'borrow' until he was back in his own suite, and his own clothes.

Both patients finally on the mend, Joséphine then turned to her guests and, as it was getting rather late, explained that she wished to retire. It had been quite an eventful day, she said. But, no matter the amount of undeniable truth in such a statement, and no matter how sincere she sounded, Octavien couldn't help but get the feeling that it was not all due to the climbing around in trees, and seeing her husband with another woman. He felt that, on some level, she really didn't care for his company right now. And really, he could hardly blame her. He was after all part of the reason for whatever it was that she must be feeling right now, and so was most likely not one of her favorite people at the moment. But, he did realize that even if that was the case, this was hardly the time to try and make things right. Joséphine clearly needed to be alone with her thoughts for a while, not to mention be allowed a chance to express her anger, her disappointment, and her sorrow, without an audience.

And so it came to pass that no more than half an hour after arriving at the de la Valliére children's suite, Octavien and Bella exited it once again, after bidding Joséphine a good night, and Octavien shooting her yet another heartfelt but silent plead for forgiveness. Though whether or not she believed it, or even saw and registered it, he didn't know.

"About earlier", Bella started somewhat apprahensively as the two of them slowly begun making their way back towards the main hall, thus putting an end to what had fast grown into another awkward silence. "I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?"

It was a question that Octavien didn't really know how to answer, as in a way she had indeed interrupted, yet at the same time she had offered an escape route from something neither Joséphine nor Octavien had seemed ready to deal with right then and there. But there was no way he could explain that to her, without letting on that Joséphine had reason to be troubled. And that really wasn't for him to do. Thus, he kept his gaze aimed straight forward, as way of not revealing to Bella his frantic search for something fairly vague to say, by looking straight at her.
Luckily, Bella did the same, thus granting him some extra comfort in knowing that she wasn't even watching his profile in anticipation of an answer. And not only that; she also seemed to realize that the question was perhaps not one best asked now, and so she quickly continued with another, before he really had a chance to say anything, regardless of whether he had something to say or not.

"And I couldn’t help but notice", she said, and this time, she did turn her head to look at him. "Your wound, it's a few days old. There was some healing."

At that, Octavien shot her a brief glance. Slightly puzzled at first, before realization dawned on him. Right. She had just arrived yesterday, and thus must still have been on the roads when the 'attempted murder' happened. Add to that the fact that she really hadn't had much time to socialize with the other courtiers - partly because she had spent a good amount of time in Octavien's company, and partly because she had been at court for little more than a day - and it was obvious why she might not have heard the latest gossip.

Though before he'd had time to formulate a reply that he felt would not somehow embarrass her by pointing out that she was slightly behind on current events - he'd already managed to do quite enough of that the previous evening, thank you very much, and did not wish for history to repeat itself - she'd continued once more.

"It was clean cut, as if made by a blade," she suggested, shooting his injured arm a brief glance before her eyes returned to look at his face, her gaze fully meeting his this time as she added; "Pistols at dawn?"

Registering the somewhat jovial tone, Octavien gave a slight smile, though it would perhaps seem more like a mirthless tug of bitterness at the corners of his mouth, than an actual smile. Though if it did, it was not because he resented her question, or was otherwise bothered by it, but because he simply was not in the mood for genuine smiles.

"Dagger in my suite", he corrected, and then gave a slight nod in confirmation of her first suggested scenario; "A blade. It would seem there are some that feel very strongly that I am not deserving of the title I have achieved, and will resort to any means necessary to see to it that I am removed, one way or another."

There it was his turn to pause, ever so briefly, before offering her another glance along with a somewhat softened smile, and adding.

"Hence why yesterday I decided to seize the opportunity of being just Octavien, when you presented it to me."


(((ooc: Hope it makes sense. I'm so tired at the moment, I honestly can't see straight. :gnight: )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Atropa: I hope it's ok I announced their engagement? I figured I might as well. Poor Octavien though!

Oh and I updated the main page; there is a clearer Suggestions section there.))



-Morning Announcements-

The sun dawns upon a clear sky, dispelling the chill which had settled overnight; all around the Palace of Light and Air, nature awakens to an early Spring. King Edouard Rotherham emerges from his gilded suite in the company of his retainers, resplendent in garments of brocade and taffeta, preparing to deliver that morning's announcements to the courtiers assembled in the throne room.

Each noble genuflected the moment their Monarch made his entrance, silence descending immediately. Once Edouard had reached the elevated platform onto which the magnificent throne stood perched, he waved them all to their feet with a casual flick of his wrist before speaking to them:

“Good morning, loyal Courtiers,” he addressed formally.

“It is with regret that we announce the departure of our esteemed friend Duc Dimitri Joséphe d'Lorraine from our Court, in order to attend to an avoidable family emergency. We wish him a safe journey and good luck in his endeavors.”

Edouard paused briefly before continuing:

“On a more joyous note, we would like to announce the engagement between Prince Octavien Lahance and Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre of Spain who shall be arriving today. May the union be blessed with love and happiness and seal a bond of everlasting friendship between our lands.”

“With that, there is nothing more. I bid you all a good and prosperous day.”

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Ghanima - Works for me. :) Oh, and, everyone; just a reminder that I probably won't be around all that much for about a week, starting tomorrow.)))


The previous night, when after seeing to it that one pretty, young lady was returned to her suite safe and sound, César had gone to make sure that a certain other equally pretty, young lady had been as well, he had, much to his surprise, found that she had not. Or rather, as he would find out when inquiring about the Mistress' whereabout to one of the maids, she was indeed safe and sound, but had decided to spend the night in the girls' suite.

Well, that couldn't be good. It could only mean that his darling Joséphine was upset with him, for some reason. Had she left a note for him, or even a message through one of the servants, it would have been a different matter, as then she would have left a willing trace for him to find her. But leaving none? That only went on to suggest that she was not particularly interested in his company at the moment, and would prefer to be left alone. Which meant they were probably both better off if she was.

As for the reason why she would be angry... Completely oblivious to the fact that she had witnessed his and Marie-Elisabeth's merry exit through the grand doors of the Palace entrance, to César it was plain as day that it was all because of the very same reason why he had been feeling slightly guilty during the course of the day; that he hadn't made sure that things this morning had gone according to plan, and that Joséphine was alright. Perhaps she was even angry with him for talking her into it in the first place, because, looking back, the plan did leave her to shoulder most of the burden of carrying it out, while César himself didn't do all that much.
But then again, she had been perfectly free to object or refuse, so surely, she couldn't blame him all that much for that side of the matter? She was a rational woman, after all.
Most of the time.

But, if she was angry, regardless of the reason, it was better for him to leave things alone, for now, and stay away from the girls' suite. No matter how tempted he was to go over there to try and make up for his lack of attention during pretty much the whole day, he really didn't want to risk a full blown argument flaring up with Adèle and Angélique around to witness it. So instead, he went to bed in his and Joséphine's own suite. Alone.

And when he woke up the next morning, it was in the same manner; alone, without Joséphine by his side, and thus unable to pull her close to enjoy her warmth and doze off for another while with his face buried in her chocolate locks, or the soft curve between her shoulder and her neck.
If all mornings were bad, mornings like this one were even worse. César absolutely hated waking up alone. Not just alone in bed, but alone in the room. Especially when he'd had little choice in the matter. Usually, even if Joséphine had already risen, she was still around, and could be persuaded to return to his arms, or at least make facing the bright light of morning a little bit easier in some other way.
But mornings like these, he was left to fend for himself, and cope with that blasted sun in whatever way he could. And so, without Joséphine there, or even one of his mistresses, to make the experience a less torturous one, César saw no point in dragging it out either.
Within half an hour of waking up, he was on his feet, washed, fully dressed, and on his way out the door.


(((ooc: Not approachable at this time, I think...?)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Morning announcements had so far proved to be one of the most boring aspects of living at the court for Marie-Elisabeth. Before she had arrived at court, she was used to staying abed until she felt like getting up. And that usually wasn’t until close to noon hour or unless Charles came barging into her rooms insisting he needed her for something. But she had missed the announcements yesterday, and she wasn’t going to tempt fate by missing them again.

So she had made sure to arise bright and early that morning, and give herself ample time to get ready. Since it was now springtime, she was thrilled to be able to put away the heavier, warmer clothing she had been wearing and bring out the light, pretty springtime gowns. The one she chose to wear (http://www.costumersguide.com/MA/garden9.jpg) today had just been finished for her before she left home, so she was thrilled to have a chance to wear it for the first time. The ivory and white creation was sprinkled with a pattern of flowers and leaves, with a similarly adorned hat that matched it perfectly. And of course the sleeves were such shorter than winter clothing, tied with ribbons at her elbows, which meant her wrists weren’t covered up and her new piece of jewelry could clearly be seen.

Admittedly, it was mostly said bracelet and the one who had given it to her that she had been thinking about through most of the announcements. Marie-Elisabeth couldn’t keep her mind off of the events of yesterday, and was still marveling that everything hadn’t blown up in her face. To her great relief it had been quite the opposite and she was certainly looking forward, albeit somewhat nervously, to their next encounter. She also couldn’t help but notice that neither César nor his wife seemed to be present that morning. She couldn’t say she was surprised by this, she had figured he would have to do some sort of damage control after having disappeared all day and spending it with her. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory though, and ran her fingers across the bracelet at her wrist.

She quickly exited the room after the announcements were finished, mulling over what had been said. It didn’t come as much of a surprise to her that the Prince had been betrothed so quickly after the death of the Princess. She had almost suffered a similar fate herself soon after the death of her husband, and she wasn’t royalty. Royalty waited even less time to arrange advantageous matches than the nobility did, and she felt sorry for the Prince being pushed into such a situation at such a rapid pace.

With that thought, among many others less proper and talked about in polite company, mulling about in her head, she decided to wander about the palace for the morning again. Hoping she could discover if there indeed was a place with no eyes and ears.

(((OOC: The picture of Marie Antoinette i used for her dress/hat is exactly what she would look like, but no gloves. With her locket and bracelet on as well of course.

I was also thinking about having her bring her son to the court for a while, not as a permanent thing obviously, but maybe just for a few days for a visit. I'll even put up a little profile of him if you like :)

Oh and approachable btw.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Atropa, thanks for letting us know. Enjoy the festival! :D(that's where you're going right?) :lol:

Robyn - that's perfectly fine, and of course you're free to add a profile for him to ME's bio, or in a sepparate post if you'd like that :)

I'll try to get a post in today as well, but I'm not making promises :( ))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Atropa, I hope it's okay that I added a little to that conversation, it didn't feel right to end it there? If not, do let me know :) or feel free to add anything more, I left the rest of it open.
Robyn, I hope this is all okay? If not, please let me know :) )))

Bella groaned softly at the light that penetrated the drapes of her bed, falling cruelly over her eyes as she struggled for the remaining moments of sleep she could win for herself. No such luck, as she discovered that sleeping while the sun developed a vendetta against you was out of the question. She instead turned on her side, scorning the light for the shade while she lay in bed recounting the previous day’s events, particularly the final moments.

She’d finally given in and asked about the cut, fuelled by the suspicious nature of the wound. She had abandoned the question into the matter of Joséphine and César as it was awkward and actually had had little to do with her or anything she wanted. But, on the topic of Octavien’s wound, she had offered no compromise and he had made no such hesitation in answering as opposed to the former subject.

"Dagger in my suite” he had clarified to her suggestion of a duel being the cause of the injury. That had intrigued Bella as to his past more than all his ambiguity the night before last. An attempt on his life? What had he done to deserve that? And yes, of course, trust Bella to inadvertently ask a man about an attempt on his life.

"A blade,” he had continued with his explanation as to what had transpired while giving as little detail as possible. That wasn't helpful. “It would seem there are some that feel very strongly that I am not deserving of the title I have achieved, and will resort to any means necessary to see to it that I am removed, one way or another."

The small, almost bitter smile that had manifested on his face suggested that she was not welcome to pursue the topic further, whether due to his painful memories over it or shame, she did not know. So while he paused briefly to formulate more of his answer, indicating he had not finished yet, Bella watched him, studying the emotion that flickered over his face in that moment. Bella had barely had a fragment of time to truly take in what his face had said about his heart before he turned to her with a soft, genuine smile that had somewhat caught her off guard.

"Hence why yesterday I decided to seize the opportunity of being just Octavien, when you presented it to me."

Words to which Bella could not immediately respond, she lingered momentarily before finally deciding to answer to his previous statement.

“That must have been terrible for you,” she soothed, her cold fingers falling lightly over his hand before she almost instantly drew it away. She then glanced down at her own hands, still somewhat taking in that an attempt had been made on his life and that it had affected him enough to force him into episodic escapism, her mouth opening and then abruptly closing without the right words to say.

Finally, while she could not imagine what the entire incident must have felt like, she did know how she felt over how he’d reacted to it.

“But I am glad, that because of it,” she glanced back up into his eyes in all honesty, biting down on her bottom lip at the mild selfishness the statement initially carried. “I was able to meet ‘just Octavien’.”

“He’s a remarkable young man,” she'd said with the lingering honesty, making a quick arch of the eyebrow as a slight smile spread over her lips once more.

Bella thought back to that brief exchange of conversation. He’d been stabbed by a man in his suite because he had been deemed unfit to be Prince. While it was believable enough, Bella could not help but wonder who the attacker was and why exactly he’d decided to attack Octavien. Of course, while this meant more work, she had little choice over it.

Therefore, with a defeated sigh at the sun, Bella finally pried herself out of bed, sliding both legs over the side in order to balance herself before attempting to stand up. She called for Grace, requiring help in getting dressed and arranging her coiffure for the day and the girl bustled in immediately, eager to get started.

Soon, Bella was washed, dressed and ready in her blue silk dress with white lace lining the rather low neck line and the sleeves that stopped at her elbow. Her hair was twisted and tied at the nape of her neck, letting the remainder of the loose curls hang free. It was time to attend the morning announcements.

It was a most boring session but for the final news delivered to courtiers; “On a more joyous note, we would like to announce the engagement between Prince Octavien Lahance and Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre of Spain who shall be arriving today. May the union be blessed with love and happiness and seal a bond of everlasting friendship between our lands.”

While Bella had spent the previous part of the announcement wishing that some divine intervention occurred and the King realised that no-one actually cared, this was a piece of news that had grabbed her attentions and provoked her thoughts. A small, dissatisfied smile that was to mask a silent scoff spread over her face as considered the news. Elena was arriving today, soon to be married to Octavien.

He had neglected to mention that little fact, but then again, one does not go around saying 'Hello there, I am engaged" to every person they meet.

Well, good luck to him. He’d need that to get out of it alive and sane. Spanish aristocracy was known to be fearsome and Elena... well, she could hardly be the exception, could she?

Well, it was a miracle she got out of the morning announcements alive and sane, in any case, so Bella took the first opportunity she was granted to leave the room as soon as possible without looking like she sprinted out. Worse yet, she knew she’d have to return the next morning to keep up with the current events and that was enough to depress anyone. And the morning only looked to get even more fantastic as her eyes fell on Marie-Elisabeth, the woman whom she had the pleasure of offending on her first day without even knowing how. Actually, Bella could take a few educated guesses at the ‘how’. She smiled slightly to herself, realising that she wasn’t going to get anywhere by antagonising anyone. Not at this stage, anyway.

Therefore, when she wandered over to Marie-Elisabeth against her best wishes, Bella kept a warm smile planted firmly on her lips. While watching the other woman, she could notice that more than average effort had been poured into her appearance.

“Good morning, Comtesse, may I compliment you on how lovely you look?” Bella greeted her with the same smile.

[paintedgrey78]

((OOC: I hope it's alright if I submit an application. It seemed interesting so I decided to join :)))

Name:
Adele Rousseau
Age:
22
Title:
Baroness
Bio:
Adele grew up in a wealthy household, living only with her father. Ever since her mother’s death when she was about four, her father always seemed so distant. He was always away on what he called “business” and what not, leaving Adele to be cared for by household nannies. She soon realized that her father never actually traveled for business, but was off trying to find a new wife. Instead of being rebellious about it Adele isolated herself from others, finding it easier to be alone then to try and make conversation. She always felt as if her father didn’t approve of her, and tried to find ways to make him love her the way he used to. Because of this, as a child she could often be found reading books or writing, trying to gain as much knowledge as possible. She found books to be fascinating and liked learning about distant places, hoping to one day travel the world.

When Adele was about fourteen her father remarried a younger woman, and became even more distant than before. The younger woman hated children, and often made sure that her father never spent an ounce of time with her. Soon she saw her father less and less, and Adele soon lost interest in trying to gain her father’s approval. Yet she continued to read and write trying to be the person her father never was. She was determined to make something of herself, and not prance around frolicking like her father.

At an older age, she found her father to be a worthless human being, and shouldn’t deserve happiness.
When Adele was old enough she moved out of her father’s house, not wanting to have anything to do with him. Soon he died as a lonely and brokenhearted man; his wife cheated on and left him, leaving Adele to inherit all of his fortunes. Before he died, Adele’s father sent her letters, begging her to forgive him for the great mistakes he made, but she sought no mercy. At that time she felt that justice needed to be served, and refused to write to him until his died one night due to heart failure. Though she still has his letters, and wonders whether or not she should have contacted him during his final days. Settling in the Palace of Light and Air, she found it her duty to relinquish her name of the horrible things her father done. Now she is twenty-two and hungry for power.

Adele is very determined, and wants to lead a stable life. She knows that if she doesn’t make something of herself she’ll be just like her father – and that’s not something that she’s going to let happen. She is cautious and loving; being gentle to those she cares for. Seeing that her way is the only way, Adele is also quite stubborn, believing that she’s always right and everyone else is wrong. Her hunger for knowledge is another thing that drives her, and she often is found cuddled up with a book. Sometimes she comes off as a bit stuck-up, for she often believes that she’s the only one who has any common sense. She also does not like to be bothered when she is in the middle of something, but when she is, she often tries to hide how incredibly irritated she is. Adele also has a soft spot for material things, and can be found wearing fancy dresses and shoes. Her house is also decorated with only the finest furniture, knowing that it’s important to keep yourself up to date with the latest fashions.

Picture:
http://us.movies1.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/twentieth_century_fox/tristan___isolde/sophia_myles/isolde1.jpg

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Yay, welcome, paintedgray! She sounds lovely :D I'll add her asap))

Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre - Making her grand entrance at the Palace ;)



The sun's brilliant rays cascaded down from the heavens, evaporating the last drops of dew which clung on the tips of the vegetation surrounding the wide road leading to the Palace of Light and Air. The air was laden with the scent of greenery and the song of birds, adding olfactory enjoyment to a landscape that any eyes could feast upon. It was readily obvious why the French had built their Royal Court there, nestled among the sloping hillsides and the wide stretches of pristine countryside, a slice of Paradise for the wealthy and the influential.

Beyond the windows of Elena Sánchez' ebony coach, light was dimmed to a dubious twilight, filtered through semi-sheer black curtains which offered her both privacy and relief from morning's glare. The fourth day of her journey from Spain had dawned several hours ago, and the prolonged confinement was taking its toll on Elena, stirring her irritation and impatience. She longed to pace the floors of her future domain, basking in its beauty, knowing it would soon become as good as hers, beyond the reach of those who would rob her of it...

That particular train of thought summoned a malevolent scowl to Elena's carefully rouged lips; narrowed to reptilian slits, her umber eyes reflected a tiny fascicle of light, creating the eerie illusion of a flame smouldering beneath two rows of lashes. A most fitting illusion, too, for the mere thought of usurpers who would seize that which rightfully belonged to her unearthed the poisonous hatred Elena nurtured in her heart for each of them, particularly a certain bastard of a cousin, a vile miser with a taste for riches he had no claim over and...

But no. She would not allow herself to fall prey to one of her internal rages, not then, when she was about to set foot at the Palace of Light and Air for the first time. Like everything else in her life, Elena had long orchestrated that moment in her mind, ensuring no detail was left to chance, from the time of arrival, to her clothes, coiffure, carriage and retinue. Everything needed to be flawless, an extension of who she was: a noble-born, a Duke's daughter and future Princess of the French. One such as her did not simply walk into a Royal Court – they made a grand entrance, contained within being the message which she desired to spread from mouth to mouth until everyone became aware of it: Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre had arrived.

As she sat in anticipation, Elena reviewed the final days before her departure in her mind. The entire household had been in what more or less could be described as a frenzy, a small army of servants toiling to prepare their mistress' luggage and dowry which no less than four carriages would carry to France. Elena herself had been occupied with King Edouard's emissaries, who had arrived to confirm the engagement as well as perform a task which the future Princess found absolutely ghastly: she could easily re-live the feeling of revulsion experienced when an elderly physician had requested proof of her virginity, as well as her fertility pending a union with Prince Octavien Lahance. Elena remembered the anger filling her at the thought of being subjected to such an indignity, and only a miracle -or better said, her self restraint-had kept her from smiting that man where he stood. She had strongly considered rejecting – let them dare try and force her! But realized quick enough that virginity, like anything else in the world, had its price, and Elena had been smart enough to keep hers intact. That did in any way make her a blushing maiden- Elena had enjoyed carnal pleasures on many occasions, though in such a way that there would be no physical proof of it. There had been an even more compelling reason for it however: a pregnancy would have ruined her and all her ambitions, and she was not going to risk that for the world, even though Juanita claimed she knew of a brew which could have rid her of an unwanted child. Elena was aware of the young gypsy's herbal lore, but was wary enough of any such concoctions to simply avoid the need for them.

Juanita...her official title was that of maid, though errand girl aimed closer to the truth. She was a sinewy 19 year old with a cape of unruly raven black hair drooping heavily around her hawkish face; even when dressed in the simple but clean gowns befitting a noblewoman's personal maid, there was something wild, almost animal-like about her, a lingering aura focused in her catlike eyes and the way her lips always seemed to curve into a sneer. Juanita hailed from a band of gypsies settled in the lands belonging to the Sánchez family; one day, her eldest brother was caught stealing two loaves of bread and a chicken from the Duque's estate, facing unforgiving whipping and incarceration pending execution. To everyone's shock, Elena herself who was notorious for her merciless attitude towards criminals, rescued him from the noose, setting him free after twelve whiplashes. What nobody knew was the fact that Juanita, a young girl Elena had been observing for some time, would act under the deeply set belief of her people that the a life saved constituted a bond of undying loyalty, and thus recruited her, to act not only as maid but as a skilled spy and informer whenever required, her slippery and deceitful nature making her ideal for the part. Naturally, Juanita accompanied Elena on her journey to France, though if all had gone according to plan, another set of eyes and ears awaited her with, hopefully, satisfactory information. Hopefully...for a certain person's sake that is.

Elena's lazy gaze watched the countryside without actually seeing it, awaiting the moment she could distinguish the gleaming walls of the Palace in the distance. At last, her patience was rewarded and the magnificent building slowly filled the horizon, growing in size with each moment that brought her closer to it. The view caused her to straighten in her seat, and even remove a corner of the curtains fastened over the windows for a better glimpse, though not for long: in preparation of her impeding arrival, Elena reached for a round mirror encased inside a gold frame, and scrutinized her appearance for any flaws, ending up applying some extra powder to her forehead and rouge to her lips before tucking it away – by then, the Palace gates emerged into view, the gilded gateway into her new domain.

The convoy passed through at length, five ebony coaches pulled each by a pair of stallions whose manes gleamed in the sun. Four of these were diverted down a secondary path towards one of the service entries, leaving the leading and most impressive coach to follow the gravel road towards the main Palace doors. It stopped not far from them, a young page leaping down to open the door and allow the French court its first glimpse of Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre.

The same youth then inclined his head and extended a supporting arm, which was gripped lightly by five long fingers bearing several intricate gold rings. Following them was an arm encased in bouffant crimson velvet stitched with gold threading and pearls; not long after, Elena herself stepped out of the carriage, chin raised imposingly, one foot finding its way towards the ground below. She immediately withdrew her hand from the page's grip without wasting as much as a glance on him, gathering the hems of her multilayered gown in a wide berth around her corseted waist, a magnificent display of velvet, lace, silk and intricate stitching, nicely complementing Elena's bronze skin. A complicated coiffure that seemed to defy gravity decorated her head and shoulders, lustrous raven curls held together by the skill of three hairdressers who had assembled it earlier that day.

Donning a superficially triumphant smile, Elena allowed her gaze to roam across the Palace grounds for a few instants, taking in its features as well as the Courtiers drawn to the scene by her arrival.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth hadn’t gotten very far in her searching, when she noticed Bella walking up to her. “Oh by the saints” she thought, trying not to roll her eyes or take off running “I would run into the pretentious little thing first thing in the morning. And after I had such a lovely day yesterday”. She smiled to herself then, a few of those leftover unladylike thoughts attempting to come to the surface. But she shoved them away and focused her attention back on Bella. She resolved to at least be polite to her; after all if she could carry on a normal conversation with Josephine she could certainly do the same here.

“Good morning, Comtesse, may I compliment you on how lovely you look?” Bella said, and Marie-Elisabeth couldn’t help but be pleased with the compliment. She knew she did indeed look good in the dress, and it certainly displayed her figure much better than what she had worn yesterday.

“Why thank you Comtesse” she said, smiling at her “It’s such a relief to get back into pretty, light dresses again isn’t it? The shade of blue on yours is lovely by the way”.Tucking that seemingly constantly errant curl back behind her ear, she looked around for a moment before continuing. “So what do you have planned for today” she asked politely, mentally congratulating herself for being able to do so “Myself I’ve gotten it into my mind to do some further exploration of the palace. It’s such a vast place I feel as though I’ve hardly seen any of it”.




(((OOC: Bugger it’s hard for me not to have her curse like a brit (Since she hates their guts) because that’s how I tend to curse LOL. Elena STILL scares me by the way. Seriously, I’d probably run if I saw her in the hallway.

And welcome paintdgrey :) Glad to see some new people joining up! She certainly seems to have similar tastes to Marie-Elisabeth! :D )))

[paintedgrey78]

((Hello everyone! I hope this post is good enough. I just wanted to post something before I went to bed))

Morning
1677,

I hadn’t been able to sleep last night. I lay awake in my bed thinking about my father, wondering whether or not I had made the right decision. As the days pass by the memory of him begins to fade; yet his death was not that long ago. I can imagine him weeks before his death, sitting in his study, lonely and heartbroken. But I as hard as I try, I cannot seem to forgive him for the horrible things he has done to me. Though the past is the past and all should be forgotten, I will not allow myself to give in. He should have been there when I needed him, but instead he chose to marry that dreadful woman. How could he choose her over me? Am I not important enough? I am his only daughter, his own flesh and blood!

I do not wish to speak of this anymore. Thinking about the past brings back too many painful memories; too many emotions. All of this is just plain nonsense anyhow. I could yell a loud as a long as I wanted, but it would never make my father love me the way I wished he would.

Until Later
-Baroness Adele Rousseau

Sealing the envelope I opened the top drawer of my desk, tucking it safely near the bottom where no one could see. I was not about to leave it out in the open for some stranger to read. My letters are private, and I will try everything in my power to keep it that way. My father may have diminished my happiness, but I will not allow the things that he has done destroy my reputation. No one is going to learn about my past, that I am sure of. Quietly walking across the room I opened the curtains, revealing the bright rays of the sun as they shined down onto the floor. Smiling I slipped into my blue gown, which was covered by an assortment of white bows. There was one at each elbow, two in the front, and a large bow located in the back. Giving a quick glance out the window I realized that if I did not hurry, I would be late for the morning announcements. That was not the way to make a good first impression.

I arrived shortly before the announcements began, taking a seat where the least amount of people were. I gazed around the room, looking at all the unfamiliar faces. Though I have lived here for quite a while, I have never bothered to make any conversation with my peers. Instead I prefer to spend my time reading, for I find it stimulating. Yet perhaps if I had been more outgoing, I would not be quite so lonely.

Hearing footsteps I turned to face King Edouard Rotherham, who looked about ready to give the morning announcements. Patiently I listened as he rambled on and on about meaningless things; I found no point listening at all. But I did hear bits and pieces here and there. When I heard that Prince Octavien was to marry Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre of Spain, I raised my eyebrows slightly. She was coming today? I smiled a bit, knowing that if I was able to meet her, it could help me in the long run.

Turning around I pushed past everyone, trying to find my way back to my room. I was still quite tired and felt the need to rest. I had a long day ahead of me, and it would not make any sense to spend the day falling asleep because I did not get any rest the night before.

((Approachable))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Yay, welcome paintedgrey78! And Adele sounds pretty ambitious!
:blink:, Ghanima, awesome! Elena sounds formidable - and Juanita sounds a little... unhinged - I'm gonna have the Jaws theme playing in my head all the time when Elena's around!
Robyn, hope this is all okay :) )))

Bella could imagine what was going through the Comtesse’s mind as she approached. Exasperation, she supposed, featured predominantly above anything else that the sight of Bella may have triggered. While, she expected nothing less than cordiality from the Comtesse – obviously raised to abide by social decorum – she did warn herself to be wary of the inner distaste that she no doubt elicited.

“Why thank you, Comtesse,” Marie-Elisabeth replied with a pleasant smile planted over her features, successfully masking any such ill-feelings if they indeed had been brewing underneath the surface. “It’s such a relief to get back into pretty, light dresses again isn’t it? The shade of blue on yours is lovely by the way.”

Bella returned the smile that Marie-Elisabeth had thrown her way as an answer for the compliment the other Comtesse had paid her. The gaze of the other woman wandered momentarily, making Bella wonder in she had yet again managed to provoke her somewhat. Well, this was a new record.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case, as Bella discovered while Marie-Elisabeth’s attentions returned to her soon.

“So what do you have planned for today?” she asked through apparently feigned nonchalance. Perhaps Bella was just scrutinising everything that Marie-Elisabeth did simply because she was that convinced of the other woman’s dislike of her.

“Myself, I’ve gotten it into my mind to do some further exploration of the palace. It’s such a vast place I feel as though I’ve hardly seen any of it.”

Now, Bella was not sure whether this was an invitation or not, but she could guess that it was the latter than the former. Well, it’d be rather cowardly of Bella to run from the opportunity of undoing some of the damage she had caused the other day, regardless of how difficult and unpleasant the task was likely to become. Marie-Elisabeth had been at court considerably longer than Bella and therefore was privy to more information.

“Thank you,” she replied to the compliment with a slight smile before lowering her gaze to her hands while composing her response to the rest of Marie-Elisabeth’s statement.

“I had no plans for the day, Comtesse,” she looked back up at the other woman with a pleasant look over her features. “But yes, it seems a splendid idea to explore the palace, especially when there is so much to admire. I’d very much like to join you, if I may?”

[Slytherin-Girl]

“But yes, it seems a splendid idea to explore the palace, especially when there is so much to admire. I’d very much like to join you, if I may?”

Marie-Elisabeth’s very first thought was an absolute no. Spending the morning with someone she was much less than fond of was not very high on her to do list. She had intended on using the morning to search for some of the places she had mentioned last night, and being forced to be polite to Bella was about as far removed from that as she could get.

However, she quickly realized the presence of another person would have the added benefit of looking much less suspicious than a lady wandering around on her own. Two eyes looking around were also much better than just one after all. She also knew she was going to have to go through even more uncomfortable encounters than this in the future, so she may as well bite the proverbial bullet now.

“Your company would be welcome actually” she replied, fingers fiddling with her locket as she spoke “I confess I’m on somewhat of a mission this morning, and an extra pair of eyes would be nice”. She smiled and glanced around for a moment at all the other courtiers passing in the halls.

“You probably know as well as I do” she continued “That everyone needs time for him or herself sometimes. And it just won’t do to lock oneself up in ones suite like some sort of dreadful hermit when privacy is desired. So I was hoping to seek out some of the more solitary places in the palace, like I used to do at home when I was a child”.

This at least was true, Marie-Elisabeth always had a particular talent for finding spaces to herself as a little girl. She smiled at the memory and added. “I don’t know if you have siblings Comtesse, but I’ve got 15 and those moments of privacy kept us all from waging war on one another growing up”.



(((OOC: HAHAHHAAH! OMG Alissa, that is almost exactly what I thought to! Now I'll have the Jaws theme going in my head when she walks around too! And ME and Bella are totally reminding me of the part in Marie-Antoinette where she walks by the aunts and they made fun of DuBarry :P

EDIT: OMG I moved a family into my historical/non modern sims hood, and look at the welcoming committee (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/snapshot_d551d475_15532656.jpg) I almsot died, I thought Cesar was going to..well act like Cesar and get slapped. But he surprisingly kept his hands to himself!! Will wonders never cease)))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin had been somewhat discomfited by the woman he had been speaking to making her excuses to leave, but he was not that offended by it, 'twas surely his intimidating presence.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasantly dull haze of wandering the gardens, occasionally chatting with passing courtiers, and eventually having a small- but comparatively sumptuous meal and retiring to his suite early. He was not particularly tired, but then again, he was not particularly wide awake either.

Ambrose met him at the door with his usual cheerful greetings and offered a carafe of fruit some other servant had thoughtfully left. Larkin didn't take any, having already eaten, but gave the boy leave to take what he wanted as he filled Larkin in on servant's gossip. Not the most reliable method of gathering information Larkin had found, but until he got his bearings in court it would have to do. Apparently some women had left court for an undetermined length of time- nothing Larkin had to worry about, and apparently the girl, Bella had gotten a change in rank. That gave the Baron d'Aurvilies some pause, was it merely an honorary rank, a token honor, or did she get the land that went with it? Most likely his land, given that her other neighbors was a rather wealthy, rather paranoid old codger who would not trade any of his property for anything, and the other neighbor was another country. Which left Aurvilies. Ambrose had been watching his face and interjected before Larkin could speak that all of the scribes had said it was token, as nothing had been written to either noble's steward.

Thus reassured Larkin listened as Ambrose rattled on cheerfully about the general gossip he had heard- one Marquise d'Magenta had a ring of fighting dogs on her lands that had bankrupted visiting dignitaries, some couple in the palace had a cheating lord- Larkin idly expressed surprise that it was only one- and that the prince was to marry a Spanish girl. He was not overly concerned with any of that, if some one wanted to make a bit of cash on the side he didn't care, if a man wanted outside entertainments, Larkin would just make it a point to avoid the man's wife- mayhaps one of the reasons that Larkin remained a bachelor despite a few overtures toward his brother asking if the queen's uncle and a land owner was interested in marriage to some rich merchant girl. The few times said brother had approached Larkin the merchant was firmly rebuffed. As for the Spanish girl, he contemplated approaching her for the still whimsical delight he took in conversing in a foreign language, but decided such decisions should be put off until the woman actually arrived and he was fully awake.

_______________________________________________
The next morning the sun rose bright and cheerful, and Larkin rose too, if not with anything approaching the brightness and cheer of the sun, or his valet, who obliquely urged him to go to the morning announcements. Muttering sour imprecations at such a thing being timed as such to delay a moderately late sleepers' breakfast he settled in to hear the announcements. Nothing interesting- the Spanish girl, whom he already knew about, had arrived. The Duc d'Lorraine had left, which did bother Larkin, he remembered the man vaguely and had hoped to get together to reminisce. It was not a setback of any kind however, and once the announcements were over and the vital requirement of breakfast taken care of, he wandered the halls vaguely, having been in the palace for two days the ever varying and omnipresent frescoes and tapestries were still fascinating and magnificent.

Walking along, staring at the walls, Larkin quite did not notice a young woman walking along the same hallway until he had accidentally bumped into her. He apologized profusely and swiftly and wondered vaguely if he was going to offend everyone in the palace by the time he was here a week.

((OOC: He bumped into Adele, and paintedgrey, just a friendly word of advice? The RP is in third person. Letters and diary and such can be in first but the RP post s themselves (anything not OOC or in italics) is third person))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: FurryPanda - There is no rule to state that it has to be third-person. People are free to RP any way they feel comfortable doing. And back when Haylifer was still around, she RPed in first person too, so... No specific rule for this RP. :) )))



Like so many other mornings before it lately, this one found Octavien sitting by one of the windows in his suite. Ever the early riser, he had been sitting there since before the sun had even made it past the horizon, and wisps of mist were still lingering in the open fields as well as along the edge of the nearby forest, draping the entire scenery with a milky, illusive veil that would have you think you were still asleep and dreaming. He had been sitting there in silence, while the hues of the sky slowly changed, and the shadows crept over his motionless form. Though not perched in the window as usual, but comfortably slumped in one of the plush chairs, with only his feet resting on the ornamented window niche carved in stone. Alone, and deep in thought.

At first, thoughts of the previous and baffingly eventful day had occupied his mind; César and his cursed inability to remain faithful to his wife, Joséphine's observation of said inability and her discovery of Octavien's deception, Bella's heartwarming words and concern, and... the nameless something that still lingered in the air between Joséphine and Octavien himself.
But, as of an hour ago, that had all changed, when a note had been unexpectedly delivered to the Prince's suite, and forced all other thoughts to be scattered by the winds. It had been a note from the King himself (what, no henchman to forward the message this time, but an actual note written by the King's own hand? My, King and son-in-law were making progress indeed!), holding what to Octavien first had seemed like the oddest of requests; that he would refrain from parttaking in the offical greeting of Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre - his betrothed - when she arrived this morning. Apparently, he was to be somehow 'indisposed'. The reason being... Well, the King must have happened to just conveniently 'forget' to tell him that part, mustn't he?

Though to a man of Octavien's mental abilities, it was no mystery, once he thought about it. Duc d'Lorraine must have reported back to the King Octavien's reaction and, more importantly, his opinion on all of a sudden finding himself engaged to be married once again, and so now, they were worried that if given the chance, he might cause trouble, and ruin the whole thing. Quite a preposterous idea, if you asked Octavien, considering the lenghts he had gone to already in order to spare the royal family a great deal of embarrassment (which, granted, only three people knew about; himself, Isabella and that wretched Mercy Flight or Venn or whatever name she went by this week). But then again, the King had already proven that he would rather eliminate any threats to the execution of his decisions, regardless of whether they were real or even plausible or not, than bother to try and find out if they were. So, no surprise there.

And, Octavien had to admit, while they were being foolish indeed, there was something resembling a compliment hidden in that kind of reasoning as well; despite the overwhelming lack of recognition, they still considered Octavien a force to be reckoned with. For surely, the King must realize that it took a man quite out of the ordinary, to dare to cause his country and his sovereign such trouble? It would take either a very brave man, or a very foolish one. And Octavien had proven himself to be not among the latter.


Having been staring absentmindedly at the same spot beyond the glass as all these thoughts darted back and forth in his mind, a sudden movement there roused Octavien from his ponderings, and his eyes regained their focus as he placed both feet on the floor and leaned slightly forward to try and make out what it was. Far away in the distance, one black dot after another appeared on what he knew to be the main road leading to the Palace, and while he couldn't yet make out any details whatsoever, he knew it could only be one thing; his much resented destiny.

With a sigh, he reclined in the chair once more, and did not move again until he could hear the caravan of carriages roll along the well tended gravel path between the Palace gates and the Palace itself. Only then did he stand, to watch as his future bride emerged from what, in Octavien's opinion, looked more like a funeral carriage than anything.
Well, wasn't that appropriate?

Leaning slightly against the cool stone of the window niche, he followed the movements below, watching as a young page hurried to assist Her Exellency in making her grand entrance (or exit, depending on how one saw it). Opening the door of the carriage, the boy then offered the new arrival his arm as support, and out stepped Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre; a most magnificent creature of crimson and charcoal. A raven-haired woman, clad in a dress of the finest fabrics, and the vibrant colors of excess luxury, with golden jewelry to match. Back straight, and head held high. By all standards, it was quite an impressive entrance, and one that would not be soon forgotten, that much was evident as the flocking courtiers were clearly quite taken by the sight of their new, soon-to-be Princess, if not overwhelmed. Which, in court, was the same as being green with envy.

Now, the Prince on the other hand, had assumed a somewhat more cynical stance, and was watching the scene from above, with an enthusiasm that could be described as remote, at best. In his mind, he was going over the list of things the Duc had had to tell him about his betrothed, and was analyzing them one by one, in light of what he was now able to witness.

'Very spoilt': Very likely, judging by her entire appearance, and the awe-struck crowd down there. She obviously knew how to handle herself around people, and nothing of what he saw of her suggested timidity.

'Very fearsome': Just as likely, but right now, remained to be seen. Such a thing was impossible to tell without meeting a person face to face. Unless, of course, they decided to abuse the help or sneer at the other courtiers. Which, thankfully, Her Exellency did not. Right now, at least.

'Slightly advanced in age': Hard to tell from this distance. Her Exellency moved with vitality and effortless grace, but so did Octavien's mother, so that didn't really tell him anything. However, from what he could tell, she didn't carry any signs of being that much older than him, as the men down there seemed quite intrigued, and that dark hair of hers was indeed pitch black, rather than the matte and faded shade of black on the verge of turning grey.

'Could be extremely unpleasant to the eye': No, she looked beautiful enough - quite striking, actually, with a poise that could only be described as regal - for her looks not to pose a problem, as far as liking her went. Though perhaps a plain wife would have been more preferrable, as the beautiful in general had a tendency to be somewhat... difficult, as they had often recieved enough attention to turn awfully conceited and demanding, whereas women not equally blessed with exterior assets tended to have been blessed with a fairly likable personality instead, and knew the meaning of mutual respect.

Furthermore, there was something else about the raven-haired woman down there that made Octavian hesitant about forming his first opinion of her just yet. Something in the eyes, that would send shivers up the spine of any lesser man. At least that's what he thought he saw. He couldn't be too sure, standing this far away, and with the sunlight reflected in the bright white marble steps below, thus partially blinding him.

No, he would wait until he met her in person. He himself knew all too well what it was like to be a book judged by it's cover, and would not be guilty of making such a mistake himself. Until then, all he could do was hope.


(((ooc: Sorry, kind of rushed, but I have to get to bed! :D Not approachable.)))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: OMG, so true, Robyn! I don't know why, Octavien and Elena remind me of Ever After, the French Prince forced to marry a Spanish bride... :lol:)))

Bella watched closely as Marie-Elisabeth considered her response to the proposal. She expected the first reaction to be one of complete horror at the idea, something which Bella had to keep herself from laughing about. Marie-Elisabeth’s civility, given Bella antagonising her somewhat the other day, was a far stretch enough, but Bella pushing the boat out further had expected nothing less that the other woman to turn and run down the hallway, never looking back.

Well, she didn’t. While helpful, Bella was somewhat disappointed that the vision of Marie-Elisabeth fleeing in revulsion had remained just that; a vision. Again, it was helpful and therefore Bella decided to put her childish indulgences to rest.

“Your company would be welcome actually,” Marie-Elisabeth turned her attentions to a locket adorning her neck as she replied to Bella. “I confess I’m on somewhat of a mission this morning, and an extra pair of eyes would be nice.”

This surprised Bella to no end. Firstly, Marie-Elisabeth, while not sprinting away, was clearly not objecting to the idea – far from, in fact. In all honesty, Bella had not expected an outright refusal, rather something along the lines of ‘Yes, if you insist, but do not blame me if I make an attempt on your life somewhere along the way’. But no, this was nothing like that, it was a reaffirmation of that half-invitation, making Bella wonder exactly what Marie-Elisabeth wanted from her.

And what exactly was this ‘mission’?

“You probably know as well as I do,” Marie-Elisabeth continued with an explanation to her previous statement. “That everyone needs time for him or herself sometimes. And it just won’t do to lock oneself up in one’s suite like some sort of dreadful hermit when privacy is desired. So I was hoping to seek out some of the more solitary places in the palace, like I used to do at home when I was a child”.

Ah, alright, she wanted to stop being a hermit so it made sense to find some other hidey-hole to shut herself up into? Yes, that made perfect sense. Solitary places were often sought after, quite ferociously, by conspirators, lovers and well, hermits. Except hermits often chose their own rooms and Marie-Elisabeth did not fit the role of hermit one bit. Therefore, she fell into either the conspirator or the lover role, whichever. Bella could make a fair stab at which it was. Then again, she saw her own benefits in joining this mission; she discover the nooks and crannies of the palace and etch out her own secret place for the clandestine meetings that were sure to occur.

“I don’t know if you have siblings Comtesse, but I’ve got 15 and those moments of privacy kept us all from waging war on one another growing up,” Marie-Elisabeth added with a distant smile, probably at her childhood.

“Fifteen?” Bella exclaimed slightly, more than just surprised; being and only child herself, she couldn’t imagine sharing with one, forget fifteen, siblings. “My, that must have been a lively childhood, Comtesse.”

“I agree, I fear I was in danger of becoming a hermit myself therefore made it a point to attend the morning announcements today,” she confessed and continued nonchalantly.
"Surprising news, the Prince's engagement, so soon after the loss of the Princess,” she remarked. “It should bring some light back into the royal family and I do hope it does him good, especially after that shocking attempt on his life....”

“It’s such a heinous crime, do you know who attacked him?"

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Marie-Elisabeth wouldn’t make an attempt on Bella’s life! She’d hire someone to do it for her later :P No way she’d get her hands all dirty)))


Marie-Elisabeth was already starting to think that perhaps she had said too much. She really didn’t like the look on Bella’s face when she had mentioned her plans for the morning and figured it was probably best to figure out a better, if slightly alerted, reason for her search. And fast. “Lively’s certainly a good word for my childhood” she said, using something she could easily talk about to give her time to think “Though when you’re practically the baby, it’s much more fun. You’re all but spoiled to death”.

She considered saying “Obviously no one knows who attacked him for certain you twit, or there’d be an extra body in the dungeons”, to Bella’s questions about the Prince, but wisely held her tongue. She was trying to be polite after all. “No one’s certain about who attacked him, though I’m sure every effort is being made to track the vile culprit down” she said aloud, letting go of her necklace “And as to his highness’ engagement, it’s not very much of a surprise to me to be honest. He’s an eligible young man, and a member of the royal family. Men like that, even in such tragic circumstances, don’t stay un wed for very long”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled and glanced around for a moment, before looking back at Bella. “But enough about that” she said, gesturing down the hallway “Let’s be off. I’ve been thinking about brining my little Charles here for a visit you see, since I’ve missed him so, and I was hoping to find some places where we can spend time alone together. You know, without the general population interrupting us”.

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Oooh, I thought everyone knew Marquess Berini had apparently ‘tried’ to off Octavien?
:lol: Bella, ME and an assassin. I do love the two of them, they’ve ticked each other off so much! Oh, and I got them two walking, I hope that's okay?)))

“Lively’s certainly a good word for my childhood,” Marie-Elisabeth said before quickly proceeding to offer further explanation for her quest to find a hiding place as if she expected Bella to be suspicious. “Though when you’re practically the baby, it’s much more fun. You’re all but spoiled to death.”

Bella simply smiled and nodded at that, unable to relate and unwilling to give Marie-Elisabeth the satisfaction in thinking that she’d managed to cover her tracks. While any thing that may or may not be happening between César and Marie-Elisabeth was mildly entertaining to Bella, it was far from what she was actually interested in; Octavien.

“No one’s certain about who attacked him, though I’m sure every effort is being made to track the vile culprit down,” Marie-Elisabeth responded to Bella’s inquiries about the attempt oh the Prince’s life if somewhat too much of a controlled manner, making her wonder what exactly was going on in that pretty blonde head of hers. “And as to his highness’ engagement, it’s not very much of a surprise to me to be honest. He’s an eligible young man, and a member of the royal family. Men like that, even in such tragic circumstances, don’t stay unwed for very long.”

Fair enough and besides, if that wasn’t the case, she’d have little to do here anyway. Surely, there must be someone else in the entire palace who knew who tried to kill Octavien? The matter of this being so very hushed up intrigued Bella more than it had done this morning.

“But enough about that,” Marie-Elisabeth dismissed decisively, gesturing down the hallway to prompt them both to set off on their exploration. “Let’s be off. I’ve been thinking about brining my little Charles here for a visit you see, since I’ve missed him so, and I was hoping to find some places where we can spend time alone together. You know, without the general population interrupting us.”

Little Charles? She had a son? And the secret hidey holes were for him? Oh dear, César will be disappointed.

“Oh, I did not know you had children, Comtesse,” Bella turned to Marie-Elisabeth as they walked. “How old is your son?”

[paintedgrey78]

((OOC: I think I'll just post in third person anyway, it's a lot easier than posting in first person))

Adele found herself bumping into a man much older than herself. Slightly startled, she looked up at the man, giving him a confused look. Surely he hadn't done it purposely; she didn't believe that someone would go great lengths to do so. He quickly apologized for running into her, seeming to be in a bit of a daze. Smiling politely she looked towards the man once again and nodded her head, accepting his apology. "It's quite alright," Adele replied. "It's partly my fault, no one's perfect." Gazing down the hallway, Adele realized she was only a few feet from her room. A few minutes of rest and she would be good as new. But she couldn't just simply take off without a proper introduction. Not only would it be incredibly stupid, but quite impolite as well.

"Baroness Adele Rousseau," she said, giving another smile to the man. "I do wish to know your name." Adele looked down upon herself for not getting to know everyone in the palace. It certainly would help a lot in situations such as this one. She sighed, wishing that she wasn't so quiet and distant. But there was nothing more she could do about it now, and crying over spilled milk isn't going to do anything either. Instead her thoughts trailed over to Elena, whom she was in fact, dying to meet. Who knows what that could do to her status? It would certainly make her noticeable, and quite well known to everyone at the palace. Yet she would have to do it another time, for Adele she had forgotten about the man she had run into. She had become so absorbed in her thoughts that she seemed to have forgotten his presence. Leaving her thoughts for a moment she turned her attention to him, letting him know that she knew he was there.

"I'm so sorry, really I truly am." She looked at him apologetically, hoping he wouldn't think any less of her. So many thoughts are traveling through her mind at this point, that it's become exceedingly hard to concentrate. "Please, do except my apology. I'm just a bit overwhelmed, with everything going on and what not." Oh I haven't had a decent conversation in so long, who says I won't make a fool of myself? It was entirely true. Adele has hardly spoken to anyone ever since she arrived at the Palace. She wouldn't be surprised if no one even knew of her exsistance.

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Alissa & slytherin - Well, there was quite the commotion when Gilles came running out of the room crying bloody murder, and the crowd that gathered did see Marquess Berini be escorted out of there and towards the dungeons, so... yeah, Marquess Berini was pretty much labelled the culprit.)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

From her curiosity and the way she was looking at her, Marie-Elisabeth was definitely suspecting that Bella somehow knew something was going on between her and César. How she wasn’t certain. Perhaps she had been outside somewhere yesterday and had seen them before they left. That was the only thing she could think of, but if so it was easily explained away. There was nothing outwardly wrong with going out for a ride to enjoy the lovely day, and she could easily argue that fact. Though mercifully, she seemed to be more interested in what had happened to Prince Octavien than anything else. Which she supposed most people were, but really what was the point in speculating about it? Marie-Elisabeth was certain whoever did it was going to be caught, and quickly escorted to their rendezvous with Monsieur Guillotine for treason.

But as it always did, mention of her son distracted her from any other topic of conversation. She did feel slightly guilty using him as a decoy for her true intentions, but it was better that then tell the truth about what she was up to. “I just have the one, my darling Charles. He’s 6 years old and just the most wonderful son any mother could ask for” she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face “He looks quite a bit like me actually, except that he has his late father’s dark eyes”.

She continued smiling and tapped her locket. “This has a portrait of him in it” she explained, looking at Bella as they walked “I wear it all the time.” She paused for a moment and added, almost as an afterthought, “I’ve got a pair of stepdaughters too, Sophie and Helene. But they’re practically my age, and they live off in the country. Delicate health like their mother had, the air out there is goo for them”.



(((OOC: It’s just fine! They needed to move their bums anyway! And yes, frenemies are so much fun to play with :P Oh crap, I didn’t realize that Atropa. I guess I didn’t read that far back into the thread, sorry :( I gues we’ll have to pretend they haven’t heard yet

And of course there’s an assassin, he’s probably a family one or something. The Valois family WERE the Kings of France before the Bourbons, they’ve got connections ;) )))

[Alissa888]

(OOC: Yup, frenemies are lots more fun! :D Bella’s having way too much fun with ME!
‘Tis okay, Atropa and Ghanima, I’ll just have her find out from someone else and thanks for clearing that one up! :)
Lol, despite the Devine Italian royalty thing, Bella would probably just do the assassination herself. Just to add the personal touch ;) Or get Ashton to do it seeing as he did get his title stripped down from Duc to Baron for shooting someone in the heart. Men. :rolleyes: )))

It seemed that the mention of her son had distracted Marie-Elisabeth from another array of thoughts. Whether this array was centred around César or Octavien, Bella wasn’t sure. The latter, fair enough, she had possibly probed the matter sufficiently with Marie-Elisabeth, who seemed rather poorly informed. The former, however, was a different story; Bella had no agenda where César was concerned and in any case, during her two days here so far, she had only managed to more-or-less befriend and perhaps even gain the Prince’s trust. That was good work enough, now it was time for fun.

“I just have the one, my darling Charles. He’s 6 years old and just the most wonderful son any mother could ask for,” it was undeniable that Marie-Elisabeth lit up in pure affection for the boy. Well, who would have thought, Marie-Elisabeth the doting mother. Hidden depths indeed. “He looks quite a bit like me actually, except that he has his late father’s dark eyes.”

Bella could not deny that the display of parental love did not tug at the corners of her mouth, bringing a distant smile at the thought of her father and deceased mother. Her father, Ashton. Was he out there somewhere telling people of his ‘feisty Izzy’, the darling daughter in substitute for the son he never had? Well, if he was alive and well out there, deliberately putting her through this farce, she had a good mind to kill him herself.

”This has a portrait of him in it,” Marie-Elisabeth’s fingers returned to the locket upon which she had lavished attentions all through the morning. “I wear it all the time.”

As Bella thought she was finished, Marie-Elisabeth quickly added another annex to her words. “I’ve got a pair of stepdaughters too, Sophie and Helene. But they’re practically my age, and they live off in the country. Delicate health like their mother had, the air out there is good for them.”

This Bella almost laughed at, how the step-daughters were a postscript while the main body was the son. Fair enough, which mother did not love her own flesh and blood over others’? Still, the thought of the girls saddled with Marie-Elisabeth for a ‘mother’, well… entertaining, to say the least.

“He sounds absolutely adorable,” she smiled at Marie-Elisabeth with a genuine smile at understanding how it felt for the child or doting parent to separate from the other. Of course, Bella, being the child in that scenario, could empathise with the boy, as she added softly: “He must miss you very much too, Comtesse.”

Damn you and your ridiculous need for atonement, Daddy, she thought angrily to herself, careful not to let anything show over her features. Her thoughts were her own. And damn your self-imposed exile, too.

“I am sure he’ll enjoy his time here,” she assured with a warm smile at Marie-Elisabeth as they walked. Now that Bella was being nice, she could not resist one more childish indulgence at Marie-Elisabeth’s expense. So, making her face to be a picture of unadulterated innocence, she added: “I expect he would make firm friends with les enfants de la Valliere.”

“Have you been at court very long, Comtesse?” Bella attempted to move on the conversation before she gave in to her urges to burst out laughing and so straightened her face to carry that pleasant smile once more. "You seem so very at ease here."

[Slytherin-Girl]

“He certainly is adorable” Marie-Elisabeth replied, still smiling and running a finger over her locket “And yes, he does miss me. I’ve already had a letter from him telling me so. Of course I sent the first one even before he had the chance to so I probably miss him even more. But it’s important that he stay where he is and continue learning, so he can take over for his father someday. I can’t keep running everything forever”.

However she was soon hard pressed to keep the pleasant smile on her face with Bella’s next comment. “Firm friends with the Valliere girls indeed” she thought, silencing the urge to say some most unpleasant words “That little twit must know something. She must have seen us leaving yesterday, there’s just no other explanation. Oh well, it’s not as though it matters. As I thought, just because two people go off riding together doesn’t mean anything inappropriate happened….well except for the fact that it did but she doesn’t need to know that”.

Marie-Elisabeth tried not to smirk as she looked over at Bella. “Oh I’d have to disagree with you on that Comtesse” she said, laughing slightly “No matter how lovely said girls are, he’s at that stage where all girls are just the most horrible things to exist in his mind. Except for me of course, but to him I’m his mother, not a girl”.

Marie-Elisabeth was definitely pleased with the final comment Bella had chosen to make though. Her mother would be proud. “And I’ve only been here for about a week” she finished “I suppose it’s a credit to all the lessons mother had us given as children. We were taught how to deal with everything and anything”.


(((OOC: Oh it’s very entertaining, the girls would have been….7 and 9 when their father married 13 year old Marie-Elisabeth :P Mother indeed XD

And I was talking about the French Bourbons, not the Italian ones)))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Awkward! And not to mention now illegal! :P Poor ME! )))

“He certainly is adorable,” Marie-Elisabeth responded as the attentions bestowed upon the locket seemed to bring her more memories of her son somehow. “And yes, he does miss me. I’ve already had a letter from him telling me so. Of course I sent the first one even before he had the chance to so I probably miss him even more. But it’s important that he stay where he is and continue learning, so he can take over for his father someday. I can’t keep running everything forever”.

Well, to be fair, Marie-Elisabeth obviously wasn’t running very much herself while she was here at court. However, it was none of her concern and Bella made sure to hold her tongue over it.

“Oh I’d have to disagree with you on that, Comtesse,” Marie-Elisabeth seemed to out rightly refute Bella’s suggestion that the children might find good company with each other as if Marie-Elisabeth herself would see to it. “No matter how lovely said girls are, he’s at that stage where all girls are just the most horrible things to exist in his mind. Except for me of course, but to him I’m his mother, not a girl.”

If Bella was allowed to do everything that jumped into her mind, the opportune face she would have picked for now would have been an incredulous stare at Marie-Elisabeth. Alight, boys will be boys and consider all girls contagious somewhat, but if he really wanted to simply hang to his mother’s skirts when there was really no other children his age to interact with, then anti-socialism was really the way for him. A bright future with the ladies, young Comte. Perhaps she was indeed scrutinising everything Marie-Elisabeth decided to say, Bella decided. Being so closed minded was never the way forward.

“And I’ve only been here for about a week,” Marie-Elisabeth’s contentment at Bella’s final question shone through in both her words and countenance. “I suppose it’s a credit to all the lessons mother had us given as children. We were taught how to deal with everything and anything.”

Well, now, did that actually include the courtiers that Marie-Elisabeth apparently found incessantly annoying, such as Bella, and the wives of men whose attentions she courted, such as Joséphine, Bella asked silently. No, probably not. Actually, wait, quite possibly yes. Without doubt, Marie-Elisabeth was just one of those women who were destined to be at a social hub, entirely capable of the pretentiousness that the social class both of them belonged to. Except of course, the difference between Bella and Marie-Elisabeth almost definitely lay in the fact that Bella knew it wasn’t real, it was just a façade, while Marie-Elisabeth made a ritual out of it and lived it.

Again, however, she found it wise to hold her tongue. It was fast becoming a habit – nonetheless a most beneficial one – to hide her thoughts behind the placid mask of reserved pleasantness.

“Only a week, Comtesse?” she asked nonchalantly with small surprise mixed with a slight smile etched over her features. “My, your mother must be a very effective teacher and you an avid pupil, indeed.”

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had already decided to write to her mother and thank her profusely for the lessons throughout her childhood. They were all truly coming in handy, particularly the ones about keeping your true emotions hidden no matter how difficult the situation was, or how annoying the company. Lessons about the way you walked, or how to dance were all well and good, but it was these ones about holding your tongue that were truly invaluable.

“Oh my mother is a formidable woman indeed” she replied, nodding her head “She’s always been the boss of the family, no questions asked. It’s thanks to her I’ve been able to run the estates so well since Charles passed away. You wouldn’t believe how much work it is. And I thought it was bad at home, now I get piles and piles of letters and reports every day. I’m tempted to use some of these hiding places to hide from the messengers”.

She paused for a moment to glance out the window, seeing the Orangery in the distance. “If you don’t have any particular idea about where to go Comtesse” she said, turning back to Bella “How about the Orangery? I’d like to see all the rare flowers they have in there. And I’m sure I’ll be able to find some places for Charles and I to spend time together while we’re out there. I just hope he doesn’t want to bring some of his cousins with him. Half the time I could swear my sister Marie-Caroline’s boys live at our home and not their own”.




(((OOC: HAHA oh lord, this is getting way to fun. :P And Orangery is like a big fancy Greenhouse type thing right? That's my understanding anyway. I just couldnt think of anywhere else for them to go!

And it's not that I was making little Charles out to be an antisocial skirt clinger or anything, he's just a 6 year old boy so he doesn't like girls much :P He'd probably tell Adele and Angelique they had cooties and throw dirt at them or something! He's got a few dozen male cousins he prefers to play with instead, with a family as big as his they're around a lot :) )))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Lol, I know Charles isn’t a mama’s boy, I was just having Bella be harsh on everything ME says because, well, its fun :D and they can't stand each other to a point where... well, you can't keep them apart! :laugh:
And you’re right, this is awesomely amusing!
:rofl: Imagine Cesar's face if he actually did that!)))


“Oh my mother is a formidable woman indeed,” Marie-Elisabeth affirmed the idea strongly. This, Bella could certainly agree with. Anything that gave rise to Marie-Elisabeth and 15 derivatives would be a force to be reckoned with indeed. Then again, what gave rise to Bella, being her parents, the abbey and the entire English court, was certain to be far worse.

“She’s always been the boss of the family, no questions asked. It’s thanks to her I’ve been able to run the estates so well since Charles passed away. You wouldn’t believe how much work it is. And I thought it was bad at home, now I get piles and piles of letters and reports every day. I’m tempted to use some of these hiding places to hide from the messengers."

Now, what kind of example would that be for Comte Charles, jnr? Bella asked silently. And worse yet, you're actually showing him what a good hiding place would be. What would mother dearest say to that?

Added to that, Bella could easily imagine how much work it was managing a man's estates when said man vanished off the face of the Earth for whatever reason. In fact, that was pretty much what she was doing. It was probably much worse for her, given that when Duc Devine lost his title, he lost only that, keeping his vast lands and riches intact and now leaving his daughter to manage it, despite the little power that the title Baroness armed her with. Thanks for that, Daddy.

“If you don’t have any particular idea about where to go Comtesse,” she proposed after a small pause, prompting Bella’s vision to trace the path that Marie-Elisabeth’s had travelled. “How about the Orangery? I’d like to see all the rare flowers they have in there. And I’m sure I’ll be able to find some places for Charles and I to spend time together while we’re out there. I just hope he doesn’t want to bring some of his cousins with him. Half the time I could swear my sister Marie-Caroline’s boys live at our home and not their own.”

Oh, not so anti-social after all? Bella thought to herself as she exuded a contemplative smile at Marie-Elisabeth. She looked down at the Orangery and the only image that sprung to mind involved countless insects, worms and God only knows what else. Oh, yes, the company kept getting better this morning.

“I would love to, Comtesse,” she agreed with a small nod. Well, if she was going to have to make do with slimy creatures, then so would Marie-Elisabeth, and that thought was satisfying enough. “I cannot wait to guess the botany they have there. I hear it’s a beautiful sight this time of year.”

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena, moving in

Most people, when setting foot in the gardens surrounding the Palace of Light and Air for the first time, would inevitably have their gaze drawn to the magnificent displays nature and human skills combined had to offer, whether it was the artfully cropped hedges, the strategically placed flowerbeds alternating in colour and pattern, or the centrepiece, a three story fountain disgorging an endless waterfall of crystal clear water. Even at that time of the year when nature stirred to live and the gardens had yet to attain the lushness of summer, the view was picturesque.

Elena Sánchez was unlike most people, and remained unmoved by the beauty surrounding her. She noted it briefly, from the viewpoint of someone who was inspected a new and valuable acquisition, before turning her attention to the somewhat more interesting, though predictable display of human behaviour.

It hadn't taken long for those courtiers who were out and about wasting time and money to notice the approaching convoy and gather near the gates, drawn by the novelty and their own curiosity. Elena liked to refer to it as herd instinct: as soon as one sheep took the lead, the rest followed suit.
The Spaniard, unimpressed by their presence, surveyed the thickening crowd listlessly, her sharp gaze playing along the rows of bewigged and bejewelled men and women, knowing all too well that regardless of what mask they had chosen to wear that morning, they remained the same envious, petty parade of sycophants who fluttered around the palace with their meaningless lives and empty ambitions.

Of course, they had their place in the world, just like the unwashed masses of commoners who provided manual labour. Someone had to administer the lands and turn resources into profit, and while most failed miserably in principle, they had the needed wealth and advisers to mend their mistakes and ensure the system worked. Elena was satisfied with that arrangement, particularly because it placed her at the very pinnacle.

Speaking of which, a man dressed in white and gold finery, flanked by two watchful guards was making his way through the crowd which parted respectfully to allow them through. For the first time since her arrival, Elena granted one person her attention, positioning herself firmly on the path and waiting, still as a statue and unflinchingly regal. From that distance, she could make out the ageing features of a man whose receding hairline was hidden underneath a lush wig – so, she mused, that could only be His Majesty King Edouard Rotherham himself, considering her future husband was supposedly half his age, and conspicuous by his absence. Elena's aloof smile faltered at the thought, pursing her lips together in a thin, flat line: what manner of courtesy did the French subscribe to, if they did not even deem it necessary for a Prince to be present at the arrival of his betrothed?

Undoubtedly an explanation existed, and Elena suspected the King would provide it.

When Edouard and his retinue approached and greeted her, Elena dropped a polite curtsy not an instant longer or more lavish than absolutely necessary: after all, she was no Comtesse or Baronesse, and was not required to prostrate herself before anyone, even a King, particularly when he was her future father-in-law, of sorts.

“Your Excellency,” Edouard began at length “it gives us great pleasure to welcome you to our Court. We hope your journey has been a pleasant one, and that our good friend Duque Carlos fares well?”

The usual pointless chatter approach, then, Elena mused dryly. Not that she had expected anything different, it was the way of protocol. Donning a convincingly pleasant smile, she answered:

“Your Majesty does me great honour, it is a privilege to be here, and my pleasure. The journey has been most comfortable, as for my father, he sends his warmest regards and heartfelt apologies for not having been able to be here and deliver them in person. Sadly his health has grown fragile, but he remains the resilient man he has always been.”

“As those of us who know him would have expected him to,” King Edouard continued, waving his hand briefly. “Before we retreat, we would also like to ask your forgiveness in the name of Prince Octavien, who is unable to stand by my side and welcome you to our Kingdom. Unfortunately, he has awoken with an irksome indisposition and our physician is currently attending to him; however a meeting shall be arranged as soon as possible.”

Elena tilted her head low in acceptance as she expressed her hopes for Octavien's improving health, thus masking an incipient smirk: so, that was going to be the official tale. A young, healthy man as far as she had been told, confined to his chambers due to a mysterious "indisposition", coincidentally on the very day of her arrival? A person less suspicious by nature than Elena would have smelled a convenient pretext – as for her, she was convinced of it. The question, of course, remained: why? Perhaps the Princeling had gotten cold feet, or maybe he was on a tighter leash than she had been able to guess, and wasn't trusted as far as meeting her before the entire Court. Whichever the case, it did not bide well, and Elena was sure to uncover the real reason...eventually.

Accompanied by the King and his retinue, Elena soon departed the gardens, parting the crowd like Moses of old and without a single glance backwards: she was, after all, much more intent on what the future awaited. Once inside the Palace, the King excused himself and retreated, leaving his guest in the attendance two impeccably dressed servants who bowed low and offered to show her the way to her suite. Nodding impatiently, she followed them up the many steps that lead towards the heart of the Palace, looking forward to a moment's rest in privacy.


((not approachable at this time))

[FurryPanda]

((Alissa, out of curiosity, how extensive are the Devine lands supposed to be? Because I've been acting under the assumption that its an insignificant little backwater like Aurvilies, and if it isn't than i need to edit a bunch of my posts. so if you could please clarify, thanks))
Larkin was somewhat discombobulated to have the girl accept his apology very calmly and with a polite smile, and then glance longingly down the hallway. Larkin obligingly stepped aside to let her continue on her way, but she had stopped dead in the hall upon his bumping into her and she continued speaking after a moment of distracted silence, saying with another pleasant smile, "Baroness Adele Rousseau, I do wish to know your name."

Larkin would be the first to admit that he was not always familiar with social customs, and that he was all too easily engrossed in thoughts usually having nothing to do with a situation. Even so, the girl, Adele's sudden and inexplicable change of subject was impressive. And Larkin found himself doing little more than blinking owlishly for a second before his usual expression of polite disinterest could scramble back onto his features. Not that she seemed to be paying any mind, the smile having melted off her features and left her staring down the hallway a bit vacantly.

"Larkin d'Marius, Baron d'Aurvilies" he answered. For good measure, and for politeness sake he added, "Pleasure to meet you Baroness"

She did not answer, and Larkin knew full well that that was rude. It had been a convention to answer pleasantries politely or make excuses when he had last been in court, and even the natives in Zimbabwe had that as a custom. So Adele was making a calculated insult- it was not impossible- even though he had never met the girl- that Aurvilies's trade policies could have hurt her and his name was enough to make her flinch back to examine her next course of action. Or maybe some other thought before hand was more engrossing than his company, and Larkin made a careful point to not think about that, he preferred his acknowledged delusions of grandeur to the somewhat iffy truth that no one so far had ever stated clearly.

Larkin, in a fit of generosity decided to assume the latter, and offered her a conversational escape- "So, have you been in the palace long?" A forced- but sufficiently pleasant- smile graced Larkin's lips. And slowly melted off as the girl continued to ignore him.

Just as Larkin was about to say something rather cold and harsh to Adele she blinked and looked up apologetically saying quickly and with a breathless quality that could only be sincere, "I'm so sorry, really I truly am. Please, do accept my apology. I'm just a bit overwhelmed, with everything going on and what not."

For some reason her words triggered some sort of fiercely paternal response- or at least not a sharp lecture on decorum, or anything romantic- and he calmly repeated his name and asked slowly, making an effort to have his words sound kindly, "So Baroness, what could be overwhelming a noblewoman in the palace? Surely there is some elusively obvious way to deal with whatever it is?"

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Furry, Bella's in an odd situation in that she's very, very rich, with the Devine duchy having been one of the wealthiest and Devines being semi-Italian royalty (though, Italy didn't officially exist then, so it's Sardinia and the House of Savoy) -I guess they could have lands elsewhere too - but thanks to Ashton's handiwork with a gun, they were demoted down to Barons/Baronesses. However, Ashton lost his title and only his title because he was frankly doing everyone a favour when he shot that guy... but law is law, and they had to punish him with something, so off with his title, it was...
To buy their titles back would be a little wasteful when they could just earn it back, therefore it was never done. Also explains her dislike of the whole title ranking.
Hope that helps :) )))

[paintedgrey78]

Curse me and my inability to make simple conversation, Adele thought. Realizing that the man was trying to make conversation she abandoned all her thoughts, giving her full attention to him. But unfortunately, he seemed to be quite upset already. Although she apologized, he didn't seem the least bit satisfied with it. After repeating his name once more he replied calmy, but Adele could see right through his calm exterior. "So Baroness, what could be overwhelming a noblewoman in the palace? Surely there is some elusively obvious way to deal with whatever it is?"

Adele couldn't seem to repond to his question. There were many things overwhelming her; some of them involving her personal life. But instead of giving the full truth, she looked at him and replied with a simple answer.

"It's complicated," she replied quietly.

She smiled, hoping that he wouldn't take offense to her response. It was in fact, complicated indeed; there were many things going on in her mind. Sighing quietly, Adele realized that she was being impolite. She quickly tried to cover her tracks, in fear of upsetting him even further. She had already messed up once, by letting her thoughts get the best of her. She would not allow herself to become carried away for a second time.

"I wouldn't want to bother you with my petty problems, Baron."

She gave a genuine smile, wanting him to know that she was trying to fix her mistake. She made a bad impression, but she didn't want it to seem like she could carry a simple conversation. Resting one hand over the other, Adele thought it would be best to change the subject. She didn't want the Baron to pry about it any further. "Have you heard about Prince Octavien's engagement?" She paused for a second, and a giggle seemed to escape her lips. "Quite wonderful isn't it? I only wish him the best, of course." Her eyes danced wildly with excitement at the thought of the engagement.

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was carefully gauging the girl's reaction to his words. A tiny, slightly panicked look had come into her eyes after he answered her apology, mayhaps she actually thought he was offended? That amused him to no end, far from being deeply offended by being mostly ignored he was simply impatient to be on his way, a bit irked at the social conventions that did not allow him to do so, and above all, woefully unimpressed with the creature standing before him.

Her expression went back to neutral eventually, before Larkin had finished speaking, and she said quietly with a blunt simplicity bordering on rudeness, "It's complicated." Larkin waited expectantly for her to continue, and much to his surprise was not disappointed. Insofar as that she actually spoke, not in that she said anything useful. "I wouldn't want to bother you with my petty problems, Baron."

Some small flight of curiosity stopped Larkin from expressing that he wouldn't mind listening. For one, it would sound like he was gossip mongering, and when he needed to do so Ambrose was far less noticeable than him. And of course, as she had demonstrated a moment ago, silence was a fine way to get another person talking.

Once more he was half right- she did indeed speak, and within a perfectly reasonable time frame, but she was changing the subject. Glaringly obviously changing the subject. She had let out another smile, this one much more sincere in character than the ones preceding it, and said, "Have you heard about Prince Octavien's engagement?" She paused for a second, and Larkin had to fight not to roll his eyes. She continued, "Quite wonderful isn't it? I only wish him the best, of course."

Larkin made a conscious decision to not get offended- the girl really had done nothing wrong in inquiring about his opinion on Octavien's marriage- and very few people knew of Larkin's revulsion to arranged marriages. Not from any effort to keep to secret, but the fact it rarely came up outside of the occasional exchange of letters with his brother. Therefore there was no reason to let an icy tone slide into his voice- the girl was very young, probably only in her twenties, and undoubtedly the topic of marriage was far more romantic and fascinating to her than to a jaded old bachelor like Larkin.

"I have indeed heard about it, and I do hope it works out well for them." Larkin could not help but notice that a touch of bitterness was creeping into his voice. It was tiny and he squelched it quickly, but it was there. "I can't really bring myself to say its wonderful though, arranged marraiges don't tend to work out that well, especially when one of them has been widowed recently, regardless of whether that was an arranged marriage. The entire custom simply strikes me as barbaric."

Larkin had kept his face mostly expressionless and his tone even save for that initial bitter twinge in intonation. Still the words themselves were such as would be picked by a deeply emotional issue, and anyone with ears and half a brain would pick up on that. And that was not a good thing- some things Larkin did not choose to share, and he had no idea how the Baroness Adele had managed to coax even that much out of him. Heck, not even Ambrose had any suspicions regarding just why Larkin so bitterly hated arranged marriage.

Larkin did not continue speaking, lest he reveal anything more untoward. What he had said had not been nearly specific enough to tell the girl anything, but still.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: A small reminder, Afternoon will be called tomorrow at around Midnight, my time, give or take.))

Joséphine and her daughters - Their suite --> The corridors

Their first night spent apart since arriving at the Court.

As Joséphine's lashes fluttered lazily, a hint of jade barely visible in their midst, that thought was the first to seep into her mind. She could feel Angélique's weight on her shoulder, and the corner of her eye offered a glimpse of unruly brown curls atop a tiny head nestled safely in her mother's embrace. Adèle slept just as blissfully on the other side of Joséphine, curled up under the blankets.

The Marquise slowly opened both eyes, blinking repeatedly as her vision swam into focus, revealing a large canvas depicting a summertime landscape that hung on the wall opposite the bed. The curtains were drawn close together, permitting only a tiny beam of light through, which darted like a spear of shimmering gold across the suite where it pooled on the floor. Taking great care not to awaken either girl, Joséphine withdrew her arm from around Angélique, snaking her way to the edge of the bed, where she paused, chin in hands, to think.

The previous night's events returned to her, one by one, in the form of memories: following Bella and Octavien's departure, Joséphine had bid the nanny to leave, finding herself alone with two slumbering children and her thoughts. There was a strange loneliness in that thought, as though by some twisted hand of fate the entire suite had become isolated from the rest of the Palace, locked away from any source of mirth, much like Joséphine herself could not help but feel cut away from everyone else. She carried a burden of knowledge which she was unable to share with anyone: not César, who would have denied everything, not Octavien who would not place himself between them, not Bella whom she would not make the unwitting confidant to a problem that was not her own.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, which Joséphine wiped away almost defiantly: she was determined not to sob herself to sleep, not again. Six years worth of tears for a man whose deeds would never change were enough: he did not deserve more, not to mention puffy, red eyes would raise uncomfortable questions the following morning. Despite the tight knot lodged in her throat, Joséphine valiantly kept to her vow, snuggled up between Adèle and Angélique, drawing strength from their proximity and allowing their angelic faces to gradually replace those of César and Marie-Elisabeth speaking closely together in her mind and finally fall asleep.

Despite her efforts, Joséphine's movements managed to awaken Adèle, who whimpered and yawned at length, stirring her sister from her sleep as well. Well, the Marquise mused as she watched them rub their eyes and sit up, it was late, after all.

An hour having elapsed, all three of them were dressed and ready to begin a new day, which in the case of Adèle and Angélique it meant another round of playing with their toys. They pranced around their nanny, begging to be taken out into the gardens, peering innocently at their mother who surveyed the scene with amusement.

“Breakfast first, playtime in the garden after” she chided gently, feeling her heart swell with joy at the sight of both girls squealing excitedly and dashing for the door, while Bess trotted behind them, urging them to behave “as young ladies should.” Before the family made their exit however, little Adèle tugged Joséphine's sleeve, gazing innocently up at her:

“Is Papa going to see us now?”

Suppressing a sigh, the Marquise smiled thinly down at her and reached down to clasp her outstretched palm:

“Soon, angel. Soon.”

And, indeed, sooner than anyone had expected, for as soon as the young family turned around the first corner, they were able to distinguish a familiar figure in the distance.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had almost, though of course she wouldn’t admit that aloud, hoped that Bella would have found some pretext to leave by now. Her mind was running at a mile a minute trying to figure out one for herself. But she couldn’t think of any plausible ones and for someone who had used any and every excuse under the sun to persuade her tutors not to have to do her work, this was a strange occurrence. All she could think to hope for was a messenger showing up with a letter for her, but that chance was a slim one.

She had already made up her mind that she was definately going to send for her son to come for a visit. Mostly, of course, because she missed him and wanted to see him. She knew that he couldn't stay of course, he had to many things to learn and do to remain at the palace. But with the wedding of the Prince coming up, it seemed like a perfect time, and excuse, for him to come. It was only proper that a nobleman like the Comte de Valois come to the wedding of the Prince of the realm, and it was better for Charles to start meeting all the other nobles sooner rather than later.

So instead of taking off like a shot, Marie-Elisabeth just smiled over at Bella and returned the nod, gesturing down the hallway to where the palace entrance was. “I’ve heard the same. I’m very interested to see it actually” she said, starting to walk down the hallway, with Bella following along beside her “We had a small one back home as a child, but I can only imagine how lovely the one here will seem in comparison.


(((OOC: sorry I took so long. My muse abandoned me so I had to drag him back kicking and screamng by his hair. Tempremental buggers muses. Feel free to have them end up outside if you want Alissa )))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: No problem, Robyn :) Feel free to send her into the Orangery
And Ghamina, poor Jo!)))

It seemed to Bella that Marie-Elisabeth was somewhat regretting extending the invitation to join her expedition, for Bella herself was beginning to somewhat regret it in light of the impending encounter with insects and their lovely habits of feeding on human flesh. While Bella was not one of the fragile aristocratic ladies who shied away from the slightest hint of nature, actually anything that didn’t involve absolute luxury, she was not ‘green’ enough to allow miniscule things to feed on her. One being draining her energy at a time, please and the role was apparently filled by a reluctant Marie-Elisabeth.

No, Bella loved nature, riding in the forest, the lakes and vast gardens, but they all had something that the Orangery lacked; open space. She was not looking forward to spending what was left of the morning locked up in a hot greenhouse with bugs, worms and Marie-Elisabeth. But, despite Marie-Elisabeth obviously sharing the same feelings, she had not backed down and neither would Bella. Oh, the lost fruits of cowardice.

“I’ve heard the same. I’m very interested to see it actually,” Marie-Elisabeth nodded towards the entrance of the palace as Bella matched her stride in approaching it. “We had a small one back home as a child, but I can only imagine how lovely the one here will seem in comparison.”

Bella almost stared for a moment, resisting the urge to say That’s the spirit, Comtesse. I’m sure they have far more exciting diseases hiding away in this one.

But instead, as they ventured outside, she simply smiled courteously at the other woman and said: “It is most exciting,” with a nod in agreement. Then, she breathed in the air in the anticipation of what was to come; bugs and more Marie-Elisabeth. “Especially when one loves the beauty of nature.”

“I would love to hear more of your experience here at court, Comtesse,” she smiled encouragingly at Marie-Elisabeth to move on conversation.

[AtropaMandragora]

If there was a single thing more torturous to someone with restlessness raging through their youtful body, than having nothing at all to do, César had yet to discover it. Finding himself faced with a full day ahead of him, and no one to accompany him on the road through it, nor any ideas of how to spend it alone, he felt as though he just might start climbing the walls. Octavien was apparently 'indisposed' for some reason or other, and even if he hadn't been, he still wouldn't have been free to help keep César entertained, as he would be preparing for the arrival of his soon-to-be wife. Marie-Elisabeth, although a most tempting possibility for some pleasant company, was not an option either. César simply couldn't risk being seen with her first thing in the morning when they had been officially together until last thing the previous night. And Joséphine... Well, she still didn't seem all too interested in César's company, considering he still had neither seen nor heard from her.

And yet, she was the reason which kept him from setting off to try and find something to do elsewhere for very long, such as going riding or hunting, or even seeking out any of the other courtiers to get further acquainted with them. Granted, he did spend a little while talking to one or two of them while ingesting his breakfast in the Grand Diningroom, and he did join the crowd watching the arrival of their future princess - a remarkably mysterious and enticing beauty if ever César had seen one, so what on earth Octavien had to complain about, the Marquis simply could not understand - but found himself too impatient to hold a longer conversation. He kept being drawn back towards the hallway where both de la Valliére suites were located, in the hopes that Joséphine would soon emerge from the girls' one, and thus allow him the opportunity to do some damage control. He hated being in the doghouse, or even feeling as though he was, and would itch to try and make things right first chance he got. If he knew he was the one at fault, that is. In the case of an argument where neither stubborn spouse had been willing to back down, and were convinced they were right, he could be far more tenacious.

But not this time. This time, he knew she had reason to be upset with him, even though he was unknowingly mistaken regarding what that reason was. Not having been otherwise informed, he still thought it had to do with him failing to show his concern for her well being yesterday, or even the outcome of their plan to improve Octavien's standing among the other courtiers. Thus, when he tried to think of a way to make it up to her, he focused on her torn dress, and not her torn heart. For when inquiring about the Mistress' health the previous night, he had learned from the maids that while she had escaped fairly unscathed, her dress had suffered greatly, and would need extensive repairs if she would ever be able to use it again. And so, César decided, a new dress would be a good way to compensate his darling wife for the one that got torn, and that an additional one just might help compensate his lack of attention.

Therefore, when returning to the suite for the second time, he did so not only in order to once again ask about Joséphine and whether she had returned while he was away, but also to send one of the maids to forward an order for two quite costly dresses to the Palace head seamster, and to return with a selection of fabrics and patterns, so that Joséphine could choose the colors and designs herself. But first she'd have to decide to acknowledge the fact that she had a husband, so that she would know he was trying to apologize, and that it wasn't just a decision he had made on her behalf. It seemed unlikely that she would thik it was, but one could always trust a woman to take things the wrong way.


Once the maid had been sent off, César lingered in the suite only briefly. His intention was to wait there until Joséphine showed up, and so he had sat down in one of the comfortable sofas with a book to pass the time. But in just a matter of minutes, he'd grown too impatient to just sit around and wait, and so with a sigh, he'd set the book aside again, and left the suite for the fourth time this morning.

Back in the hallways, he shot one more in a long line of glances towards the door behind which his wife and daughters were still supposedly keeping themselves occupied, and gave yet another sigh, slightly more exasperated this time. Patience really wasn't a virtue of the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, and it was starting to grown quite thin. He would not stand for this much longer. One more hour, and he would just have to go there himself, no matter if Joséphine was ready for him, or still desired to be left alone.

However, as fate would have it, he'd done little more than turn away from the door and started towards the main entrance once more, when a sudden delighted squeal shattered the silence, it's echo bouncing between the walls, and causing César to stop and turn again, as he immediately recognized the sound.
And sure enough. Careening happily towards him from the other end of the hallway was indeed Adèle, curls bouncing wildly about her shoulders, and arms outstretched in anticipation of being scooped up into her father's strong ones on arrival. Trotting behind her came little Angélique, as fast as her tiny legs would carry her, and even further back, trailing gracefully behind the two children were their mother, and their nanny Bess.

Not that César was given much of an opportunity to acknowledge the two of them, as Adèle and Angélique immediately demanded his full attention. At the mere sight of them, his lips had parted in a wide smile, and he couldn't help but laugh as Adéle threw herself around his neck when he bent down to greet her and her sister. With two sets of arms around his neck, and his own gripping their bodies tightly, he then straightened his back, while finding himself being showered with questions, most of them various and repeated forms of where he had been, as apparently, he had not been around in 'forever and ever'.

"I'm sorry, mes chéris", he said with a smile, while planting a soft kiss on each girl's forehead. "Daddy had a promise to keep, and it took a little longer than expected."

Knowing that many had seen him and Marie-Elisabeth together, César thought it useless to lie or be too evasive. Not that the girls would be any the wiser anyway, but Joséphine, whose presence he was now very much aware of as she was crossing the last remaining distance between them, might have heard about it. If she had, it would be most suspicious of him not to mention Marie-Elisabeth in some way. And besides, there was no harm in being truthful, was there? It wasn't as though anything had actually happened, and so there was nothing to hide. Well, except maybe a few details, such as the giving of a certain bracelet, and the topic of a certain conversation. But other than that, there was nothing to suggest anything illicit had been going on.

"Good morning", he said as Joséphine finally reached the three of them and came to a halt, and despite his cheerful tone, the smile on his lips had faded a little bit and the look in his eyes turned slightly apprahensive, as though he was trying to determine her state of mind. "I've missed you."


(((ooc: Ghanima - Hope it works?))))

[paintedgrey78]

Adele smiled at the thought of the marriage between Prince Octavien and Elena. Marriage made two lovers bound to one another, and frankly, she believed it to be quite romantic. But of course, marriage could also be complicated as well. There are many who get married for all the wrong reasons, such as her father. Money, power, lust; they’re all very foolish reasons to get married. In fact, it's those exact reasons which cause Adele to question the true intentions of others. Her father chose marriage for all the wrong reasons as well. She grimaced slightly thinking about her father's pathetic marriage, but managed to quickly hide her disgust. Yet the thought of him with that woman made her cringe.

She never quite understood why he wished to get married once again, to be tied to one person until the day you die. She always believed that mother was father's one true love, but she couldn't fathom the thought of anyone loving her father. Who could possibly love such a horrid man? Adele frowned at the thought. Fortunately, she never let her father's horrible marriage taint her desire for love. But not just any love: she believed in true love, the type of love that never burns out. Yet it is quite hard to find that type of love, for many others are corrupted by the benefits that come from marriage.

Looking towards him, Adele listened intently as Larkin spoke about Prince Octavien's marriage. "I have indeed heard about it, and I do hope it works out well for them. I can't really bring myself to say its wonderful though, arranged marriages don't tend to work out that well, especially when one of them has been widowed recently, regardless of whether that was an arranged marriage. The entire custom simply strikes me as barbaric."

He remained expressionless as her spoke, and Adele could sense the fact that the Baron was not particularly fond of arranged marriages. A curious expression emerged on the young girl's face, and an assortment of thoughts began to creep into her mind.

There aren't many out there who are fond of arranged marriages, she thought. I'm sure the Baron has a good explanation for his disliking of them. As she looked at him, there was still that question in the back of her mind: could it possibly be something much more?

"Would you like to take a walk Baron?" Adele asked curiously. She did indeed want to know him better. He appeared to be kind enough, and she saw nothing wrong with him. If she was able to know those around the palace, it would help her greatly in her quest for power. Giving him a quick smile, she gazed down the hallway, her dark brown eyes glistening. "It would only be for a while." Adele quickly saw her suite near the end of the hallway, knowing that her rest would have to wait. She had more important matters to attend to.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Everyone, it is now Afternoon for our courtiers

(and you got a few extra hours because I forgot to call it last night :P)

[AtropaMandragora]

Octavien didn't take well to being ordered around and told what to do. He never had, not even since long before he rose to the position of Prince of the most splendid realm of the entire civilized world. For while being made Prince had changed alot of things in and around him, his aversion towards taking orders was not one of them. Anyone who knew him could surely testify to that. As could a certain Duc, who'd lately had the opportunity to experience this aversion first hand.

The young Prince was a noble man, who took pride in serving King and country to the best of his ability, without having to be ordered to do so. In fact, to men like him, having their heartfelt loyalty completely disregarded in favour of depersonalizing commands when not even in actual battle, was nothing short of an insult. A virtual slap in the face.

So then, when after in the early morning having been sent a note telling (not asking) him that he was to be 'indisposed' and thus unable to greet his betrothed on her arrival to the Palace of Light and Air, things were hardly made better when shortly after said arrival, he was sent another note, this time telling him he was now expected to properly introduce himself to Her Exellency, as soon as possible.

Had he not known any better, Octavien would have thought the King to be as fickle as a teenage girl, if not more, with apparent mood swings every five minutes, first saying one thing, and then turning around and saying something completely different.
But, he did know better - alot better - and so could see through it all with the greatest of ease; they (meaning the King and his advisors) had been afraid that Octavien would cause a scene, a minor or even major disaster, if being there to greet their new Princess alongside the King himself. They still were. But, while they could prevent a possible disaster in public, they couldn't keep Octavien and his bride from meeting forever, and so since it did have to happen sooner or later, it was better if it happened in private, where no one would be shamed infront of an audience. Her Exellency wouldn't be shamed by some possible snide remark, or loud rejection on Octavien's part, and neither would the royal family. As though a private first meeting would somehow eliminate all chances Octavien would have in the future, should he really desire to cause trouble?

Preposterous indeed. So many useless precautions, when all they really had to do was to actually talk to him, instead of treating him like some kind of mindless yet unpredictable puppet. He was not a fool, nor was he unreasonable, much like he had stated to Duc d'Lorraine only a few days ago. The Duc had even seemed to agree, although perhaps not in so many words. And had Octavien not shown there that he would indeed submit to His Majesty's decisions? Even if he wasn't particularly thrilled about them?

Well then, he would just have to keep signalling his dissatisfaction with being treated as a mute pawn, while still carrying out his duties. And this was a perfect opportunity.

He was to present himself to Her Exellency 'as soon as possible', the note had said. Well, didn't that leave things open to interpretation? It was really a matter of prioritizing, wasn't it? There could be a dozen things that took priority over introducing himself to his future bride. Lunch, for one. After all, wouldn't it be a shame if he was to go ahead and meet with her, and end up saying something stupid simply because he wasn't thinking straight, due to being so very hungry?
Another thing that might be far too important to not be dealt with first, was the matter of choosing the right clothing. He wouldn't want to look too dark and gloomy, even though he'd just been widowed, but then again, he wouldn't want to look like a darned peacock either, would he? Men that dressed too flashy would often seem like they were trying to make up for some lack of their, or to draw attention away from some serious flaw.
The list could be made very long indeed, and therein lay the method of Octavien's silent rebellion to being ordered around; he procrastinated the meeting, when he knew he was expected to instigate it immediately.

Only once a few hours had passed did he dictate a small note for Her Exellency, scribbled down by Gilles' steady hand, telling her to expect him within the hour; a time frame wide enough for him to keep her waiting, thus showing her, and everyone else for that matter, the 'proper' arrogance of royalty - that things only happened when the Prince, in this case, decided that it would, and that others were expected to wait for as long as the royal in question chose to keep them waiting - yet not wide enough to insult her by keeping her waiting too long.

Still he did wait until there remained only ten minutes of the announced hour, before he left his own suite, and headed for the one right across the royal floor; the Princess' suite, which Her Excellency now occupied. Having chosen a deep sapphire frock coat of lustrous brocade that brought out the intensity of his blue eyes and the golden shimmer of his hair, along with matching breeches, he knew that while he would not out-do the lady as far as radiating with wealth and luxury went - which, in all honesty, was as difficult for a gentleman to do as it was impolite - he would at least match her. In garb as well as in poise. He carried himself with his usual dignity and pride, and his stride was purposeful yet unhurried as he crossed the floor with a small entourage of servants trailing behind him, with the exception of one that darted ahead to announce his pending arrival to the Princess' suite, so that when he approached, Her Excellency would be prepared, and the doors immediately pushed open for him. God forbid he should be made to wait outside.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Octavien", the footman officially announced for all nearby to hear as Octavien passed through the gilded doors, and came to a halt, his eyes landing on the woman whom he had watched arrive a few hours ago, from the window in his suite.

This was it. It was his first encounter with the woman who was to be his wife: A complete stranger.

"Buenas tardes, su Excelencia", he greeted her with a slight, polite inclination of his neck, in response to her graceful curtsy. "And welcome. We are most honored to have you with us. Though I must apologize for not greeting you on arrival. I'm afraid this morning found me a bit under the weather."


(((ooc: I hope it's okay I had her curtsy, Ghanima? If I'm not completely mistaken, as royalty, he shouldn't acknowledge her/greet her until she did, yet she would not have the right to actually address him until he addressed her first. Or something.)))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin had gotten over his discomfiture at the topic of arranged marriage fairly quickly- that did not mean that the damage his small slip in composure had caused was gone however. A curious expression had wandered onto her features as he spoke, and Larkin found himself wondering what precisely she might be curious enough about to let it display so clearly. The reason for his sharp and transparent dislike of arranged marriages? He hoped she would simply understand the principle- two people, thrown together by power plays, usually not even their own, to live in each other's company until one dropped dead, what person wouldn't dislike it? Then again, the nobility grew up expecting such a thing- marriage for the nobility was not for love- not for any country, not even for France, that bastion of civilization. Hence why his reaction was so harsh.

He gloomily realized that there simply wasn't another rational reason for her to bother showing curiosity. Unless of course she thought marriage to truly be something that was only a symbol of love and devotion. In which case she was either very very daft or mind numbingly naive.

She did not speculate when she answered- for which Larkin was duly grateful- but instead asked, "Would you like to take a walk Baron?"

Now there was a non sequiter if ever there was one! Larkin did not have anything significant demanding his attention- even with Ambrose having gotten the fastest courier money could buy there was no chance that the courier would have even gotten to Aurvilies yet, let alone given the steward a chance to reply. In the absence of current information about his barony there truly was nothing he had to do. And besides which, Baroness Adele was a fascinating quandry- too young to be as cynical as Larkin, old enough to not unintentionally be an idiot, and not difficult on his eyes either. Not that Larkin would think about such things, especially when the awkward topic of arranged marriage was on his mind.

He gave a small warm smile and answered just as simplistically as she had been, "I'd be delighted to."

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: yep it's okay, Elena is arrogant but she doesn't go around breaking basic social rules, she fancies herself a refined lady after all.

Oh and I will try to have posts in tomorrow, when, hopefully, my muse decides to cooperate *kicks*))

[Slytherin-Girl]

“I would love to hear more of your experience here at court, Comtesse,”, Bella had said and Marie-Elisabeth tried not to roll her eyes and scoff. “Oh I just best you would you nosey little thing” she thought, as they made their way through the grounds toward the Orangery “But you’re not getting anything out of me. Not that there’s anything to get, but if there was you’d be the last person I’d tell”.

“Oh I’ve hardly got anything interesting to tell” she said, pausing to admire the pretty swirled pattern the grass had been cut into “Obviously recent events haven’t permitted anything of a noteworthy nature to occur. But I suppose with her Excellency’s arrival that’s going to change. All the events and festivities to celebrate the Royal marriage will be most exciting; I do hope I’ll be able to get my little chou d’amour here in time to witness everything”.

She smiled and fiddled with her necklace as they continued down along the pathways lined with trees. “You know what’s more amusing than my less than remarkable experiences here at court so far” she said, laughing slightly at the memory “ When she first came to live with us after their wedding, my eldest brother Joesph’s wife, Isabelle wouldn’t go near the Orangery. She was somehow convinced it was full of deadly tropical diseases and all sorts of horrendous insects. They didn’t have them where she was born you see, so it was really quite funny to see the look on her face when Joseph would talk about picnics in the Orangery. We were all rather hard pressed not to laugh at her, have you ever heard such a silly notion?”


(((OOC: Sorry again for taking a while. I’m in the same boat as Ghanima, my muse will not cooperate. But I’ve got him by the braid and I’m threatening it and his wardrobe with scissors so he should behave himself for a while.

And I’m using the Orangery of Versailles as my mental picture for this one, I hope that works. I figured it was a good one to use :)

Picture One (http://www.paris35.com/photo_gallery/photo_gallery_9eb29ea04ad2ced6bb397f1d3344dcaf.jpg)

Picture Two (http://www.myparisnet.com/wp-content/images/Chateau-De-Versailles-58.fullsize.jpg) )))

[Alissa888]

Bella knew full well that Marie-Elisabeth would volunteer practically no information when asked, especially by Bella herself. To be expected, if anything. It was quite clear that the dear Comtesse had no warm feelings towards her, all developed in the space of two days. Bella could not help but wonder whether Marie-Elisabeth was on better or worse terms with Joséphine. Perhaps amorous friendships with one spouse warranted for lesser cordial relationships with the other. Oh, life was a balancing act.

“Oh I’ve hardly got anything interesting to tell,” Marie-Elisabeth replied, her vision turning to the greenery before them as Bella’s thoughts wandered to the ample greenery that was to come.

“Obviously recent events haven’t permitted anything of a noteworthy nature to occur. But I suppose with her Excellency’s arrival that’s going to change. All the events and festivities to celebrate the Royal marriage will be most exciting; I do hope I’ll be able to get my little chou d’amour here in time to witness everything.”

Oh, yes, do show him the wonderful fleurs de mort, too. He can add those to the list of things he doesn’t like.

“You know what’s more amusing than my less than remarkable experiences here at court so far,” she continued as Bella watched her attention’s return to the locket that held her son’s portrait. “When she first came to live with us after their wedding, my eldest brother Joesph’s wife, Isabelle wouldn’t go near the Orangery. She was somehow convinced it was full of deadly tropical diseases and all sorts of horrendous insects.”

What?! Bella thought sardonically to herself. Scared of insects and she admitted it?! How dare she?

“They didn’t have them where she was born you see, so it was really quite funny to see the look on her face when Joseph would talk about picnics in the Orangery. We were all rather hard pressed not to laugh at her, have you ever heard such a silly notion?”

Of course insects don’t live in plants, Comtesse, Bella thought silently as she laughed along with Marie-Elisabeth. And insects don't carry odd diseases.

“Preposterous,” she uttered as the laugh came to an end. Isabelle, indeed, not a far cry from Isabella. Or was Isabelle a pseudonym for Marie-Elisabeth herself? Terrified of the Orangery and still reluctant to admit it? Oh, Bella simply had to see this through now.

“Yes, the wedding certainly should be a wonderful event,” she remarked, refusing to let her mind wander to how exactly Octavien was going to deal with Elena and how exactly Bella was going to deal with her part in it. “I do have one confusion that has been playing upon my mind, Comtesse. I had heard that the Prince's name was Duc Silvius, while it is now Octavien Lahance?”

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena and Octavien - Elena's suite

The majestic oaken doors firmly closed behind her, Elena directed her strides towards the most comfortable looking armchair in sight onto which she slumped with a barely audible sigh of contented relief. From there she scrutinized her surroundings, taking in the peculiarities of the décor, already making small notes of things she would eventually change: a woman of individuality, Elena enjoyed a customized living space, and the room, despite its beauty, had a lingering after-taste of its previous occupant. That would simply not do. Across from where she sat, one arm casually folded across the armrest, the other positioned lightly in her lap, Elena could glimpse her reflection in a magnificent wall length mirror, from the crimson hems of her gown to the satisfied smirk playing on those rouged lips that matched its hue.

Everything had gone according to plan, if one overlooked Prince Octavien's “indisposition”. Although initially cross at being fed what was almost too obviously a lie, and making the entire Court witness to Octavien's absence during her arrival, Elena soon enough put the incident behind her: Edouard was an acceptable replacement as far as protocol and appearances went, and besides, she had few doubts her fiancé would present himself within the day, unless of course he was ill - a rather unlikely possibility, Elena might add. A more private encounter could well give her a better understanding of the man she was going to marry.

With that in mind, Elena wasted no time. Her travelling gown, though impressive and luxurious, had served its purpose. It was simply too overdone for a private meeting, too obviously tailored for the outdoors. As such, the future Princess tore herself away from the tantalizingly comfortable armchair and summoned Juanita – the only one Elena permitted to handle her person. The hawkish girl greeted her with a low bow followed by one of her leering grins that suggested she had something for her mistress' ear.

“Well?” Elena demanded before any words were even spoken: she knew that smirk all too well.

“This place...it's the largest I've ever been in, Milady!”, Juanita began, awash with emotions that gave her gaunt face an almost maddened look. “Even the servants' wing, it feels like it goes on and on and on like the caves near the vineyards back home...”

“If I wanted a description of the servitorial quarters I would have asked for one”, Elena interrupted curtly. “Now tell me if you were able to find out what I've asked of you.”

“My apologies, Milady” Juanita said meekly, her brownish cheeks turning a shade of red. “None of the servants I've talked to have seen the Prince today, and Baroness Devine arrived a couple of days ago. Except they now call her Comtesse.”

Elena's lips curved into a thoughtful, amused pout: she certainly hadn't been wasting her time, then, which had better mean her achievements in a...different matter were just as impressive.

“Good.” she nodded before waving a hand in the air. “Bring me water. And unpack my purple gown, the one with the silver threading.”

Nearly two hours later, Elena stood before the same wall length mirror, though this time the crimson gown was replaced by one of deep purple taffeta, with a subtle winding floral pattern across the sleeves and bodice, sewn with silver threading . A pearl necklace adorned her neck, and several bracelets hung about her wrist: as for her mane of obsidian locks, half of it was held up beneath a small tiara lined with diamonds; the rest was left unbound down her back. All in all, a picture of refined elegance, ostentatious without being too garish.

Having dismissed Juanita, Elena spent the following hours of solitude reading and recording a few events in the journal she kept, very aware of the fact that only one corridor separated her suite from Octavien's. Surely he would not make himself overly conspicuous by his prolonged unavailability? Then again, perhaps he had yet to receive the King's approval, that was certainly a possibility. Elena had to admit, she harboured some curiosity towards her future husband: so much depended on the way their relationship evolved, her personal power and influence being the foremost. If she could trap Octavien with honey instead of vinegar, plenty of headaches could be avoided, though she was prepared to play the game until the end, regardless.

Just as these thoughts were playing around inside her mind, Elena was distracted by a knock on the door: surely that couldn't have been Octavien? Arriving entirely unannounced was...unconventional, even for someone of questionable nobility. Happily, the new arrival happened to be a palace servant bearing a note which informed her of His Majesty's imminent arrival "within the hour".

Well, well...the game was on, Elena mused, twirling the paper between her fingers before setting it down on a nearby table and sitting down herself. A while later, a loud announcement hailed Octavien's arrival, before the doors swung open allowing him passage – and Elena her first glance at her future husband.

Greetings were exchanged in the form of a nod and a curtsy, which Elena executed with dignified grace, allowing her incisive gaze to scour every feature of the young man standing before her, a slight smile curving her lips: well, she thought, for once messengers had not overstated his physical attributes: he was certainly as young and handsome as they had made him out to be, though in Elena's opinion looking rather stiff in his pretty coat, as if he was not quite comfortable with his new image. The dignified look he donned bravely seemed almost ready to crack, like a plaster mask stretched too far.

"Buenas tardes, su Excelencia", The Prince greeted, Elena's smile widening slightly in a way that wished to communicate that his effort to greet her in her own language was appreciated, while she thought to herself: at least they had tutored him.

"And welcome. We are most honored to have you with us. Though I must apologize for not greeting you on arrival. I'm afraid this morning found me a bit under the weather."

Elena concealed a scoff behind a mask of mild concern as she acknowledged this: under the weather indeed! It was interesting how perfectly healthy he looked in consequence. The French must have used revolutionary methods that rid their patients of even the slightest signs of ailment and return a most healthy flush to their cheeks in record time.

“Gracias, su Majestad”, Elena replied before continuing in fluent, though distinctly accented French: “The honour is all mine. There is no need to apologize, such things are unfortunately beyond one's ability to control: though I trust your health has improved?” she added, searching his face with the same intensity as before, for signs of “illness” as well as everything else his expression might yield. The little details were often so tell-tale.

“Please,” Elena motioned towards the furniture, inviting Octavien to sit if he so wished and continue their conversation in a more relaxed manner. He may have been the Prince, but he was currently also a gentleman in a lady's suite.


((ooc: Atropa - I hope this works? All the protocol stuff sometimes has me off balance.

Also a post for Jo is coming soon, I hope. Need a break))

[Ghanima Atreides]

César and Joséphine, The Corridors

Watching her daughters make a dash for their father's arms and the affection César lavished upon them, Joséphine already felt her resolve falter, the thorn in her heart digging deeper and deeper. It always went that way: César found his way into the arms of another woman, she uncovered the truth which filled her heart with anger and disdain, which in turn were drained out of her by his warmth and affection which he offered freely, both to her and their girls. What woman could claim she was able to look into the eyes of the man she loved, find them full of tenderness and remain unmoved?

Joséphine could not. Her love for César was the one flicker that endured inside the core of the coldest embers: it only took a breath of wind to fan its fires. And yet, even the hottest of fires died out when repeatedly showered with ice, much the same way as Joséphine could feel a fragment of her trust in César being chipped away each time a new mistress entered his life. Eventually, there would be no trust at all, and once it vanished, their love was doomed as well: it was a bleak prediction which the Marquise still hoped to prevent from ever becoming reality.

"I'm sorry, mes chéris", he said with a smile, while planting a soft kiss on each girl's forehead. "Daddy had a promise to keep, and it took a little longer than expected."

A promise to keep, thought Joséphine. What it entailed, she could only imagine: all too well, unfortunately.

Once he freed himself from Adèle and Angélique's demanding arms and the girls were whisked away by their nanny as goodbyes echoed down the hall, César made his way towards her with that characteristic sunburst smile back on his lips. Joséphine stood her ground, feeling her pulse increase with every step he took: she had no choice, she had to keep pretending, just as she always had. To lie, bite back her pride and continue as though nothing had happened, as if she had no eyes, nor ears, nor a brain. At the same time, in spite of herself, Joséphine couldn't avoid wondering whether she had perhaps been a little hasty in her assumptions....All she had seen was the two of them walking and talking...though that hopeful thought was quickly smothered by the recollection of Octavien's face when he realized she had spotted them. His remorseful words, proof that something was going on if ever there was one, something that required an apology.

"Good morning", César greeted, his smile faltering a little, increasing the sickening void in his wife's stomach: oh how she despised this charade. “I've missed you.”

Gritting her teeth, Joséphine inhaled briefly, focusing all of her efforts into displaying an expression resembling pleasant surprise: slightly arched brows matched by a somewhat bemused smile. It came most naturally in the situation, considering her true feelings bordered bitter incredulity: how was she to believe that from a man who had had an entire day at his disposal to seek her company, and who had clearly preferred that of Marie-Elisabeth?

“And I you,” she replied softly, summoning a more distinct smile. “It is a pity you left yesterday, you missed quite the spectacle in the gardens.” she added and laughed lightly, as though to relieve some of the tension hanging between them. If she was expected to act as though nothing was wrong, then he should damn well follow her example. “I daresay there will be talk of 'His Majesty's brave rescue' for some time to come.”

At least he ought to know she had kept her end of the deal, and the plan had worked out beautifully: perhaps that, and the scars on her arms would stir his sense of guilt if adultery did not.

[AtropaMandragora]

Living at one of the most splendid, if not the most splendid of courts in the known, civilized world, there was quite alot to be said about a good, wholesome upbringing. One of the most significant things being that it was something to be truly grateful for. To talk properly, to move properly, to eat properly... In short, to do everything one did, properly.

As a child and a teenager, this wasn't something Octavien had reflected on very much, busy as he'd been playing and enjoying life to the fullest back then. Even the days before dashing off to join the court at the Palace of Light and Air to learn a thing or two about life, had seen him carefree and unconcerned by what was expected of him once he arrived. Regardless of the things that had landed him in trouble and caused him to be sent off in the first place, there were very few that had found a reason to complain about his actual manners. He had always carried himself well and had an amiable way about him, one that people could not help but to find endearing. But to Octavien, it had never been anything but the way one simply acted. His upbringing had molded him into a well-behaved youth, who saw no reason to act otherwise. If there were darker thoughts stirring in one's mind, one simply hid them and pretended they didn't exist, until one could find a suitable outlet for them. It was simply the way things were, and he had never found a reason to be either thankful or disgruntled because of it.

However, now he did. Now, he realized he was indeed very lucky to have been born wealthy, especially considering he hadn't been born a noble. Because despite the lack of blue blood in his veins, he had been raised with every luxery usually reserved for and enjoyed by nobility only, recieving ample tutoring in reading, writing, conversating, fencing, riding, archery, literature, history, and everything else a young man from a prominent family might benefit from knowing. He had even been taught a number of foreign languages, such as Latin, German, Russian, English, some Italian, some Portuguese and, of course, Spanish. For indeed, one could never know what prominent foreigners he might encounter at parties or during his travels. Why, it might even come to pass that he ended up a diplomat, and just think how handy it would be then, that he already spoke the language of every nation that was even remotely worth dealing with.

Now, while during the few months in court, he had not yet come to actually need all his linguistic knowledge, he was still thankful for it nonetheless. Especially now, when faced with his future Spanish bride, as it allowed him to show a good measure of good will and respect, by greeting her in her own native tongue. After all, although he wasn't particularly interested in actually marrying her, the arrangement was really no fault of hers - or so he thought - and there would be no honor in making things difficult for her. They had to be quite difficult enough already, considering she was a stranger to their country and their customs, and any gentleman would see it as his duty to make her feel welcome.

Though try hard as he may, he remained ultimately unable to fully shake that thin veil of reservation he could feel cloaking his eyes, and suspected Her Excellency had little trouble picking up on it. But then again, it was to be expected that they both felt somewhat constrained, wasn't it? They were perfect strangers, who in a mere few days would be man and wife. Of course their first meeting would be slightly awkward, if not completely so.

Thank goodness he had begun to shed that fateful self-consciousness that had laced his actions since first becoming Prince, and reached it's peak when it became clear to him that the woman he loved would be leaving court indefinitely. Since then, the old Octavien, with his amiable confidence, had started slowly returning. Granted, there was still a bit of a distance to go until the full extent of his previous self-consciousness had been completely discarded, but he WAS getting there, slowly but surely. Although, despite his old self easing it's way back into his character, there was still one part of him that seemed it would be forever lost; his ability to trust in others. That part of him remained a huge void, and one that didn't seem like it would be filled or closing any time soon. Thus, the only ones currently able to enjoy the now rare luxery of his trust, were César and Joséphine, and they had both known him for years.

So, needless to say, while Elena seemed to be quite pleasant - so far - with her soft, cordial smile and her agreeable tone of voice, lightly sprinkled with remnants of her Spanish heritage, it would take more, alot more, before Octavien felt completely at peace around her. However, that was not to say that he would not be able to relax and be truly and perfectly friendly towards her, and in a casual manner too once the timing was right. He might even come to enjoy her company. But, it would be quite some time before he would dare to trust her, if ever it happened.

"Gracias, su Majestad", she said in response to his greeting and his excuse. "The honour is all mine. There is no need to apologize, such things are unfortunately beyond one's ability to control: though I trust your health has improved?"

She sounded perfectly sincere and as concerned as would have been expected, but... There was just something in her eyes that reminded him of what he suspected was visible in his own as well. Deception. She didn't believe him any more than he believed himself, and given the way they were both carefully scrutinizing one another, assessing looks, intelligence and mental strength, it came as no surprise. She was studying him as intently as he was studying her, which was most likely the reason why she didn't believe him, and why he could tell that she didn't.

Well then. He clearly was wasn't the only one to see through the lame excuses the King had made. Or, in Octavien's case, failed to make. Which would mean that either they were truly so transparent that even the blind would be able to see through them, or Her Excellency was at least fairly intelligent. Another thing that, just as was the case with her comely exterior, could be as much a blessing as it could be a curse. Dimwitted women might cause trouble at first, but would often turn out to be quite easily controlled eventually, and kept from making fools out of themselves and their spouses. Intelligent ones, however, although they could be most stimulating company and, if fate would have it, valuable allies and accomplices, would also be likely to cause alot more problems, if they did not see eye to eye with their partner. And not by something as easily handled as making a fool of themselves.

With silly goose obviously not being the case with Elena, it only remained to be seen if she would be friend or foe. She seemed friendly enough, but then again, one would indeed have to be a silly goose to act any different in their first encounter with a Prince.

"Please", she said, motioning towards the set of comfortable couches and sofas in the room, as an invitation for Octavien to sit.

Octavien's gaze followed the gesture, but instead of landing simply on the group of furniture, it swept across the entire room, from one side to another, as he took in the view he had only seen once before; on his first and, so far, only wedding night. A mock consumation of the marriage to Adalita. He had been relieved then to not have to actually bed her, as she had already been far beyond the border of loosing her virginity. And while the girl had been pretty enough, she hadn't appealed to him. She'd proven herself to be quite crude, naive and gullible, and... Ah yes. A goose. Add to that the fact that he had been in love, and still was, with Isabella, and he hadn't been the least bit interested in doing anything beside sleep next to Adalita, at the most.

Nor was he particularly interested in doing anything more with Elena, when the time came for their wedding night to be shared, but... sadly, he doubted he'd enjoy the same 'luxery' of having his 'work' already done for him. Her Excellency was a chaste and pure woman. Or so he'd been told. Which would mean there was no easy way around that one. He'd be expected to... perform, not just by everyone outside the bedroom, but by the other person inside it as well.

However, that was something to be pondered later. He was getting far ahead of things now, and while it might be a good idea to prepare for what was to come, this was hardly the time. Not in the company of the woman who was part of the problem, and not during his very first encounter with her.
Thus, within a mere few seconds of starting it, Octavien finished his brief inspection of the room, noting to himself in passing that there was a certain girlishness in some of the details that he felt clashed with Her Excellency's womanhood. Adalita had still been very much a girl, despite her age, and Elena, while still seeming fairly young, was most definately a grown woman. Octavien could only hope that changes would be made to the room, and that they would be made before the wedding. There simply was something... additionally off-putting about the idea of going to bed with another woman in the very room where his previous wife had died.
Granted, it still would be, technically, no matter what changes were made to the decor, but as long as changes were indeed made, it would no longer actually be Adalita's room.

Accepting the invitation to sit with a slight nod, Octavien moved to one of the sofas, and sat down, reclining back against the lush comfort it offered, while his gaze returned to Elena.

"Indeed it has", he replied to her question, having decided that while he was made to lie to her, he would do it as little as possible.

Thus, he spoke with his actual injury in mind. After all, it wasn't a very far-fetched or deceptive thing to do, considering what had happened yesterday. He still did require a bit of attention from the royal physician, just to make sure the wound kept healing nicely.

"I shall be back to perfect health in no time," he added with a slight smile. "Or so the physician tells me. Though I thank you for your concern."

That being said, the matter could be regarded as over and done with, and as he had little interest to dwell on something she most likely didn't believe anyway - lest she'd been informed of the 'attempt' made on his life, or the observations made by the other courtiers the previous day - he moved on to other matters;

"I trust your journey through our country was safe, and hopefully pleasant as well?"


(((ooc: Sorry so long, and possibly messy. My head's all over the place.)))

[ElektraNatchios33]

(((:doh Completly forgot about this! Luckily my friend unknowingly reminded me when she rented "The Other Boleyn Girl" today...(which Padme's picture has been updated to something a bit more...."accurate"....Even though its over 100 years earlier than the current RP year. I will try to have an RP up by tonight. Slytherin, Alissa, do you mind if Padme joins you?)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Nervous laughter was particularly easy to identify. And as keen of an observer of people as Marie-Elisabeth was, she could detect it straightaway. And Bella’s laughter had a distinctly nervous quality to it. However, it was less simple to judge the reason behind the nervous laughter. Maybe Bella was afraid of the bugs herself, and was masking it with the laughter. That thought almost made Marie-Elisabeth laugh out loud but she kept it in.

“I agree” she said instead, pushing the doors to the orangery open with Bella following closely behind her “Being afraid of such little things is so silly. She didn’t have any brothers growing up though, so I suppose she didn’t become accustomed to them. With five mischievous brothers running around, we girls were always finding all manner of insects and creatures in our beds or desks. My little brother Max actually managed to sneak a frog into our dessert at dinner once. Mama had a fit”. She giggled remembering it, the look on her mother’s face when a little green frog stared back at her from her plate was priceless. But she was distracted from her memories by Bella’s next comment, which she had wondered about too.


“I do have one confusion that has been playing upon my mind, Comtesse. I had heard that the Prince's name was Duc Silvius, while it is now Octavien Lahance?”

“You know, I was wondering the same thing” she said, leaning over to smell one of the exotic flowers, and smiling at the pleasant aroma “I was rather confused about it when I received the initial announcement of engagement with one name on it and then the wedding announcement had a different name. I’d like to know what happened there myself”.



(((OOC: Again, SO very sorry for taking a while. I don't know what's wrong with me lately, my writing just isn't coming to me when I want it to)))

[AtropaMandragora]

Feeling that perhaps it wouldn't be the most ideal situation to have the girls present to witness a conversation in which Joséphine just might like the opportunity to clear the air, following the couple's day and, more importantly (at least as far as César was concerned) night apart, César had just barely finished speaking when he bent down to place both daughters gently back on the ground again, despite their protests ringing in both his ears. Still at the age where they had yet to learn to control their demands for the things they wanted, they left it no secret that they really didn't want to leave their father already. Yet, somehow - some might even call it a minor miracle, while others would simply call it the skill of a resourceful and experienced nanny - both girls were persuaded only seconds later to go with Bess, leaving the Marquis and Marquise with an opportunity to talk freely, without their children around to possibly pick up on anything less than harmonious going on between their cherished mama and papa.

It was an opportunity which César had thought would involve angry words, annoyance, or at the very least a bit of sarcasm on Joséphine's part, considering her decision to keep her distance from her husband during the night, and the morning as well. She wouldn't have done that, had she not been cross with him.
So, imagine his surprise then, when in response to his somewhat apprahensive and wary yet fairly cheerful greeting, recieved one that was equally cheerful, but lacking any and all signs of apprahension or annoyance.

"And I you", she said in a tone so soft he couldn't discern even the slightest bit of gal in it.

Huh.
It was not at all what he had expected. Hoped for, but not expected. To be perfectly honest, he didn't quite understand it. It hardly seemed she had been upset in the first place, or else there would be something to suggest she had a firm opinion of what he had and had not done the previous day. But why would she spend the night away from him if she wasn't angry with him? And why, if she was angry with him, would she act as though she wasn't? Unless, of course, she had been angry last evening, but changed her mind during the night or morning?
Or, could it be that she really was pregnant, and was becoming irrational and emotional already? César had heard a few friends describe the erratic behaviour of their pregnant wives, and how they had gone through phases of not wanting their husbands anywhere near them, let alone touching them. Joséphine was very much aware of César's tendency to be 'friendly' in bed, so could it be that she had forsaken their marital bed in order to avoid being touched by him? It seemed odd. Very odd indeed.
But then again, women in general could be quite difficult to understand sometimes, even to 'experts' such as César, whereas pregnant women were darned near impossible. Most of the time, not even they understood what was the matter with them!

But oh well. If she wasn't going to yell at him or snap at him, he sure as heck wasn't going to question it.

"It is a pity you left yesterday, you missed quite the spectacle in the gardens", she continued with a small laugh, as though the details of what had transpired amused her still. "I daresay there will be talk of 'His Majesty's brave rescue' for some time to come."

Those words made the smile on César's lips widen momentarily, as his mind wove images of how it all must have played out, as well as in appreciation of the fact that their plan had indeed turned out to be a successful one. Though it was a smile that would soon fade ever so slighty, as he was once again reminded of how he had neglected her, especially since at the time he hadn't known she was alright. He'd suspected as much, based on the fact that if something had happened - God forbid - they would have sent for him. But he hadn't actually known anything for certain until he had returned and been informed by the maids. And now, coming face to face with Joséphine and hearing her tell him about it, he felt twice as bad as he had the day before, while in Marie-Elisabeth's pleasant company. And twice as proud of having such a spirited wife, that would even consider doing what she had done. She truly was one of a kind.

"I can honestly say I know of no other woman who would have dared to do such a thing", he said and met her gaze, not without admiration and adoration. "Let alone do it as successfully as you obviously have."

Drawing closer, he then took her hands in his and gave them an affectionate squeeze as he continued, softly now;

"And, I am truly sorry, my love, for disappearing the whole day. I had promised to take Comtesse de Valois riding, to... Heavens, what have you done? Is that from yesterday?!"

While he spoke, he had brought her hands to his lips in order to plant a soft kiss on each of them in between the words of his explanation, and so the scratches on them and on her arms had been bound to catch his attention. Needless to say, at that moment he forgot all about the explanation he'd been giving, as well as the kisses upon her hands that had been meant to accompany it. Instead, he carefully turned her arms to examine them, inspecting the blemished skin.

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Robyn, so sorry for the delay, I just managed to get this done. Also, take your time replying, I can't get another reply in for a while. Been a bit busy lately. :(
Elektra, I have no objections ;) )))

Bella was afraid. That was all. She was afraid. Not of Marie-Elisabeth, not of Elena, not of anyone, but rather something. Spiders. Eurgh. Disgusting, ugly, filthy things. What on Earth was the point of their existence?! What on Earth did anyone have to gain from ridiculous little eight legged things crawling over everything and everyone. Why?!

It was not a baseless fear, however, Bella having had her own unpleasant brush with arachnids as a child. It was most disturbing and every time she even looked at another one of those disgusting things, she was simply reminded of that particular incident alone in the woods, aged seven. It was true then, something you simply cannot change about yourself.

Therefore, while Marie-Elisabeth continued to lead their way into the Orangery that was sure to house as many of the vermin as possible, all Bella could think of were the spiders. They were sure to be there. Waiting, watching. God. Yet, no, she would not give in to petty fear, she wasn’t going to give Marie-Elisabeth the satisfaction of watching her squirm. She would stand her ground. She would wield her perfected skill of masking her true self. Or at least try.

“I agree,” Marie-Elisabeth spoke, giggling, oblivious to the inner turmoil brewing inside her companion. “Being afraid of such little things is so silly. She didn’t have any brothers growing up though, so I suppose she didn’t become accustomed to them. With five mischievous brothers running around, we girls were always finding all manner of insects and creatures in our beds or desks. My little brother Max actually managed to sneak a frog into our dessert at dinner once. Mama had a fit.”

Oh, I bet she did, Bella thought tightly to herself, struggling to let go of the tenseness that was beginning to take hold of her. Though, I wouldn’t tell darling Charles that, he might get ideas.

“You know, I was wondering the same thing,” she answered Bella’s question while admiring flowers as they passed. “I was rather confused about it when I received the initial announcement of engagement with one name on it and then the wedding announcement had a different name. I’d like to know what happened there myself.”

Bella liked nature, there was no questions in that. It was probably why she had run off into the woods in the first place that day. Nature, she liked, spiders, definitely not. They weren’t a part of nature, they were abominations, eight-legged freaks.

“Well, I suppose it’s all in the past now,” Bella superficially dismissed, inside vowing to get to the bottom of it, as her fingers played over the silky surface of the flowers, the colours vibrant against her olive skin. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Marie-Elisabeth either knew nothing or was paticularly intent on keeping quiet about what she did know. The former seemed likely, given that the Comtesse had only been at court for a week - and already so friendly with a particular one of it's courtiers - while the latter, was most certainly something invoked by Bella herself. “Have you been at court before, Comtesse, or is this your first time?”

Glancing subtly at the blonde woman, Bella decided that she was either very dim or very clever. While it was likely that Marie-Elisabeth was as airheaded and pretentious as she seemed to be - certainly matched by Bella's own tactlessness the other day - it posed no harm to simply allow the Comtesse to talk about herself - which she was quite obviously dying to do - to truly assess her. And of course, it would give Bella enough distractions from... unwanted visitors.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Everyone - considering the pace this week has been slower, due to members being busy IRL or lacking inspiration, I am going to prolongue this Afternoon until next Monday, I think all of us could benefit from a little more RP time before Evening is called.))

Elena and Octavien -- The Princess' Suite



It was no secret that others found Elena's intensely appraising glance disconcerting: it was human nature, present even in the most rigid of aristocrats, to experience a twinge of unease when made the direct target of someone's sharp, unwavering gaze. She rarely blinked or moved around when having a direct conversation, giving her eyes an almost hypnotic look, like that of a cobra coiled up before the plunge, which would not have been an uninspired metaphor in Elena's case. Anyone who enjoyed the uses of influencing the behaviour of others knew that body language made as much difference as words could, sometimes even more: a lowered gaze signified submission, reserve, fear even when the lips claimed otherwise; the inability to look someone in the eye was often the sign of a jittery character, or that they had something to hide. Where others turned their eyes away, Elena focused hers, peeling away at their façade layer by layer, helped along by the small but telltale gestures most people were not even aware of, such as compulsive blinking, swallowing, tapping a foot into the ground or drumming one's fingers into the table. When linked together like the pieces of an intricate puzzle, a picture emerged which then Elena could make use of.

Watching Octavien Lahance approach from the doorway had yielded some interesting information: he carried himself proudly with even strides that were neither too rushed nor too hesitant, as a Prince would be expected to. That suggested he had benefited from an acceptable education before his recent ascent to nobility – good, at least she wasn't marrying a peasant in a tailored frock. And yet, the difference between him and, for example, King Edouard whom Elena had met only hours before stood out from beneath the surface: the older man wore his rank like a second skin, the poise and aloofness of royalty surrounding him effortlessly, while this young Prince had a what Elena perceived as an agreeable look about him: confident and reserved, yes, but not arrogant. That could have been an indication of several things, most notable being a simple mind or a genuinely good natured character. In whichever case, Elena knew well the arrogance would come with time. It always did: men were so susceptible to the lures of power.

Gazes previously interlocked in appraisal, Elena noticed Octavien's waver, moving in semicircle around him before landing on her again, apparently inspecting their surroundings before committing himself to their meeting. She found his hesitation interesting, for it suggested a lack of familiarity with the room, something rather unexpected of a man whose own wife had previously occupied it. Of course, Octavien and the late Princess Adalita had been married only a short while, but still...he must have spent at least one night there. Perhaps he was merely apprehensive of being confronted with her passing in such an intimate way as being among her possessions. Storing the observation for later use, Elena returned her focus to their conversation:

"Indeed it has", he replied to her comment concerning his health, "I shall be back to perfect health in no time, or so the physician tells me. Though I thank you for your concern."

A nod and a slight curving of her lips was Elena's response, quite willing to leave the matter at that and focus on things of more interest than a tired excuse, such as the reason for it, which she expected to evade her a while longer, unless the Prince was abysmally stupid and contradicted himself. Somehow, she was under the impression he was fairly intelligent.

"I trust your journey through our country was safe, and hopefully pleasant as well?" he continued while Elena resumed her keen appraisal. Polite conversation could be so tedious at times, especially when one wished to gain something from it. A flicker of that impatience emerged briefly in her eyes, the subtlest of indications that she considered it a relief when two people who were destined to be joined together in marriage could bypass interminable protocol in the foreseeable future, though only for a few instants before she blinked it away, her gaze growing steady once more as she prepared to reply:

“Certainly, we have encountered no trouble, and I could not have wished for a more picturesque journey ,” she said. “Although I confess I am looking forward to a night's rest in a proper bed, even the most comfortable of coaches tends to become uncomfortable and stifling after a while.”

Elena stole a glance at the four poster bed several meters away: a bed which she and Octavien would share within a fortnight, the place where she would officially loose her virginity: that was a thought she couldn't help but find epically amusing. Deciding to try and exploit a previous observation, Elena looked back at Octavien:

“Your Majesty...I would also like to express my condolences for the loss of your wife; I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to bury your bride...”a brief hesitation, before continuing pragmatically and just a little slyly “a mere few days before taking another.”

There, it had been said, the one thing both of them were undoubtedly thinking but were expected to pretend did not exist. Quite frankly, Elena was looking forward to seeing how Octavien took it.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Despite her intense dislike for the proliferation of women in her family with the Marie prefix, Marie-Elisabeth was now making a solemn vow to name her first daughter Marie-Therese after her mother. The amount of things her mother had taught her that had come in handy over the past week both astonished her and made her exceedingly grateful. Being the youngest girl, aside from other obvious good points, had meant she reaped the benefits of experience. Having already had ten girls by the time Marie-Elisabeth was born, her mother was well versed in what kind of lessons and information were valuable and worthy of passing on to a young lady.

One such lesson was never to tell anything worthwhile to anyone you didn’t trust. You could chat to them about the weather, family, how ridiculous that woman looks in a bright green dress, but you never told them anything serious. Marie-Elisabeth didn’t trust Bella and farther than she could throw her, so she was following that advice perfectly. It was similar to the tactics she employed to get things done the way she wanted. Merely pretend ignorance so no one sees you as any kind of threat until it’s much too late to do anything about it.


So she nodded and smiled as Bella agreed with her statement. “It is indeed” she said, while inwardly enjoying Bella’s subtle, but still noticeable, discomfort at being in the Orangery. She wasn’t quite sure if it was because of she herself or, as she was beginning to suspect, that she suffered the same lack of fondness for insects as the sister in law she had mentioned. Now that was certainly something that, if true, could prove a great source of amusement. Marie-Elisabeth herself wasn’t overly fond of them herself, but she was hardly about to shriek and run away at the sight of them like many ladies would. She had grown up with quite a few brothers after all, who all seemed to be fascinated with them, and had gotten used to them.

Unfortunately she couldn’t spot any unpleasant insects at the moment, but she did note that they were the only ones roaming about the area. That made her grin as she realized that meant this area of the palace was not overly popular, and could be counted as one of the places she had been looking for. But letting her mind wander that way in current company was highly unwise, so she turned her attention back to Bella’s question about her experiences at court. “ No, this is not my first stay here” she said, shaking her head “I was here once or twice as a child with my father, the late Duc de Normandie. My husband and I visited once before our son was born as well, but since Charles wasn’t overly fond of extensive travel we mostly spent out time at home. He said he’d done enough travelling as a young man with the army, and I was perfectly happy to stay at home with my little boy”.


(((OOC: Don't worry about it Alissa, I understand :) I took a while with some of mine too so I won;t say a word against you taking some time off )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

César and Joséphine - The Palace Corridors

It was obvious why César appealed to so many women, Joséphine found herself thinking as she watched his face light up with wonder and pride at the sound of her summation of that morning's chain of events. He had an honest, charming way about him that felt at home in almost any situation, and the vigour of youth to sustain his cheerful spirit: one would have to work hard indeed if they intended to dampen César de la Vallière's spirits. However, his true appeal lay in the fact that he truly was exactly as he seemed: a rash man at times, yes, but sharp-witted; a man whose eyes, and hands wondered, but who also genuinely loved his wife. Joséphine had doubted the latter time and time again, her confidence weakened by his never-ending affairs, driven by the logical conclusion anyone could reach: if a man sought the attentions of other women, there must have been some conjugal problem he was seeking escape from, or that his feelings of love towards his wife existed no longer. And yet, each time they saw eye to eye she found his so full of genuine affection and appreciation for who she was, rattling her convictions to the core, making her doubt the very notions that had seemed so very logical moments before, and rekindling hope once more.

And so, the cycle began again.

This time however it was not the same. The circumstances were different: they were away from home, away from the familiar places and faces Joséphine could turn to for soothing, and she was closer than ever. The Marquise could feel the storm whirling its way into a hurricane, a thought which terrified her: she knew her endurance was reaching its limit, and six years of pretense were drawing to an end: the moment when the charade would be shattered was near, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. It was only a matter of time and proper catalyst. Already, she had been so very close...

"I can honestly say I know of no other woman who would have dared to do such a thing", César praised, oblivious to the turmoil raging behind his wife's placid front. "Let alone do it as successfully as you obviously have."

He was so easily deceived when it came to these matters, she mused even as she struggled to keep from feeling proud of his compliment. Not because of lacking in intelligence or insight, but because he wanted to be: it was part of the game they played time and time again, which stated that she, Joséphine, had no idea of her cherished husband's betrayal. She flinched briefly when César picked her hands up and squeezed them affectionately, not because of the gesture, but the words which accompanied it: "And, I am truly sorry, my love, for disappearing the whole day. I had promised to take Comtesse de Valois riding, to...”

He did not even try to conceal the fact that he had been with her. Joséphine's instinct was to be surprised, but soon enough rationality took over: certainly, he was aware they had been seen by what was no doubt half the Court, and the possibility of her knowing about it. Thus, a lie would have been far more conspicuous than the truth. Nonetheless, him mentioning the Comtesse opened a window of opportunity for Joséphine, which was nonetheless about to be delayed.

“Heavens, what have you done? Is that from yesterday?!" he interjected before anything could be added when noticing the healing scratches, thin, reddish lines criss-crossed over the white skin of her arms. Joséphine's brief cruel wish to provoke César's guilt at the sight of her injuries backfired, rising into her throat like bitter bile and remaining lodged there. If others found pleasure in causing worry and pain, she did not, least of all in César.

“You are not going to work up a fuss about them too, are you?” she told him with mock strictness, even managing her first genuine smile that day. “Octavien and Comtesse Devine practically hounded me to have them treated yesterday.”

She chuckled briefly at the memory, as though she still considered that debacle an exaggeration of the severity of her injuries.

“But enough about that. I promise you, mon cher, they do not even pain me any more.” Joséphine waved a hand, her gaze intensifying as it found its way back to her husband: “You and Comtesse Valois went riding yesterday? I see you are getting along well; it reminds me I should perhaps socialize more, I seem to be missing all the news. I wonder if anything at all worthwhile has happened this morning.”

[AtropaMandragora]

During the course of the past couple of weeks, Octavien had started wondering if he had been far more naive than he had ever realized, when coming to court, with his mind set on climbing the social ladder, gaining if not power and wealth, then at least power. Wealth he already had, to a certain extent, though not a fortune of his own. And while wealth could often buy power, it was equally often a power that could be just as easily taken away, while power gained through deeds and effort, would in comparison be far more long-lasting and durable. Deeds tended to manifest themselves in people's minds, often turning over time from fragmented pieces of gossip secretively shared behind the safety of delicate fans or closed doors, to elaborate tales of honor and bravura, or, in the case of somewhat more shady methods having been used to obtain this power, of masterful trickery and deceit. Either way, your journey to power would be respected, perhaps laced with admiration, perhaps with fear, and not scoffed at, as was often the case with those that simply "donated" a hefty sum to the royal treasury in order to be rewarded a grander title for their "loyalty".
Octavien, having been taught and intelligent enough to know the difference, had hungered for the former. And he had earned it.

Yet, in retrospect, he now realized that he had been so focused on what he was determined to achieve, that he had not spent a single minute reflecting on the cost. He had gotten to where he wanted through a mix of honor and deceit, which ironically rendered most of those around him unaware of his true path to the position as Prince of the kingdom. As far as they were concerned, he had gotten there simply because Princess Adalita fell in love with him and chose him for her husband. A way rather similar to that of gaining power by buying it. They didn't know of his sacrifice, they didn't know of the loyalty and the devotion towards the royal family that was behind it. They knew nothing of the decision based on honor, nor did they know of the less-than-honorable affiliation he had with the Queen, which had been the reason why he was able to make that honorable decision in the first place. He was, in short, unable to enjoy the respect he himself felt he was entitled to. Especially from the King and Duc d'Lorraine, who at this point seemed to be two of his most prominent advesaries, in a roundabout, stoical way, when they should in fact be among the most grateful ones, as far as Octavien's marriage to Adalita went.
His relationship with the Queen, however; not so much.

Furthermore, his new position had forced him to adapt a bit of a new disposition, peeling away the many layers of Octavien's faith in people. Yes, he had known people in general were prone to stabbing one another in the back over the slightest chance of recieving a measly few more crumbles of the pie, at court more than any other place. But he had never actually experienced it all first-hand, until just recently, and reality was always a most cruel teacher. Effective, but cruel.

It was, in part, because of this loss off faith and trust in people, that he was currently dead set on not trusting Elena. He didn't trust her, and he didn't trust the King. For all he knew, the two of them could be conspiring together, for some reason or another. And with the King so obviously incapable of realizing Octavien's true potential, the young Prince decided that instead of letting it just annoy him, he might as well end up using it to his own advantage. Which was why, during this very first encounter with his future and possibly misleadingly congenial bride, he decided to hold back a bit, to give Her Excellency the impression that he just might be a little more simple-minded than he really was. If she intended to decieve him somehow, like so many others had tried to do lately, or try to control him, either for her own purposes or on behalf of the King, having her think her future husband to be fairly easily fooled or manipulated, just might help expose her agenda, and to expose it rather quickly.

And so, he didn't show any signs of having caught that somewhat displeased glint in her eyes at the cordial but obviously rather reserved reply he had offered her. However, that was not to say that he DIDN'T catch it. He did, and it only spurred his inner musings even further. There was indeed something stirring in the mind behind those piercing eyes of hers, and at the moment, it obviously wasn't all pleasant.

"Certainly, we have encountered no trouble", she replied, with that faint flicker of impatience now gone, "and I could not have wished for a more picturesque journey. Although I confess I am looking forward to a night's rest in a proper bed, even the most comfortable of coaches tends to become uncomfortable and stifling after a while."

At the mention of 'a proper bed' her eyes wandered briefly to the lavish and feminine, yet rather robust piece of furniture that dominated the room, followed by Octavien's, as her words conjured a few mental images to him as well. First and foremost that of the pale, emaciated form that had been the dying former Princess, soon replaced by memories of the first wedding night he had spent there, and notions of what his next one might be like.
However, they didn't get much of a chance to manifest temselves in his mind just yet, as his attention was still focused mainly on Elena, and so when next she spoke, his gaze immediately returned to her.

"Your Majesty...", she started, sounding almost hesitant, which, as she continued, Octavien would clearly see the reason for. "I would also like to express my condolences for the loss of your wife; I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to bury your bride... a mere few days before taking another."

However, while sounding rather apprahensive for the most part of her statement, with her final words her tone of voice changed ever so slightly, to something that Octavien couldn't quite pinpoint. Was she just trying to carefully break the ice, or was there something else hiding beneath the surface?
Well, time would tell. For now, Octavien decided to appreciate it for what it was, at least in part; a sign that she was not an all too strict follower of 'proper' protocol.
Thank God for that. They just might end up having an actual conversation. And, it would've only been too ironic if she had been an ardent follower of all social rules and etiquette, leaving Octavien to have lost a wife whom he'd wished was a bit more conservative and correct, in favor of one he would have wished was less so.
But, as it would seem, this one was at least prone to valuing a meaningful conversation over a completely correct and forgettable one. Much like Octavien himself. It was only fair then, that he met her halfway, and didn't leave her to go out on a limb all on her own. Even though he suspected there was a bit more of a purpose to her statement, than just breaking the ice.

"Thank you", he replied, his lips now forming a modest variant of his usual but lately increasingly rare, amiable smile. "And please accept my sympathy, as I know your position is indeed a difficult one as well."

It was a calculated statement that went on to show compassion and warmth, which, while they were both pleasant qualities, were not necessarily the qualities of a sharp mind.
For indeed, it was true; Princess Adalita, regardless of her flaws, had been loved and admired, by the court and by the people. Thus, marrying the upstart and very recently widowed Prince, and claiming not only Adalita's title, but her husband and her very room as well, was not a position to be truly envied. Especially not this soon after the Princess' death. People were still very much fond of the memory of her, and just might see Elena as her illicit rival, despite the very real and undeniable difference that one was dead, while the other was very much alive.

[Alissa888]

“It is indeed,” Marie-Elisabeth continued her bland conversation as Bella’s sharp eyes scanned the area. No, no spiders yet. Had they all gone off somewhere and started plotting or something? Well, the further they were from her, the better. While her eyes worked diligently, so did Bella’s mind. Her thoughts at joining Marie-Elisabeth’s quest this morning had lay in the promise of finding somewhere for clandestine meetings. This simply was not the place. She didn’t care how much both she and Elena wanted discretion, but this simply was not the place. It would be a cold day in hell before she subjected herself to this repeatedly. On the other hand, Marie-Elisabeth had little discomfort in this place. She could only hope a certain Marquis had no fears to rival Bella’s as she watched a grin widen over Marie-Elisabeth’s features.

“No, this is not my first stay here,” she continued her life story as Bella stretched her shoulders slightly, smoothing down the expensive material of her dress to distract herself from her growing uneasiness. “I was here once or twice as a child with my father, the late Duc de Normandie. My husband and I visited once before our son was born as well, but since Charles wasn’t overly fond of extensive travel we mostly spent out time at home. He said he’d done enough travelling as a young man with the army, and I was perfectly happy to stay at home with my little boy.”

Yes, and why didn’t you continue to do so?! the words played out in Bella’s mind, but no words escaped her lips as she glanced up at the Comtesse and exuded a warm smile.

Marie-Elisabeth, as air headed as she seemed, could not possibly be this boring. Therefore, she was obviously unwilling to share. Honestly, Bella would truly, gladly watch paint dry than sit around listening to Marie-Elisabeth. Right now, she didn’t have that luxury. It was either the Comtesse or spiders, though the difference was a little blurry.

“Well, that must have been nice,” she said simply, her voice now somewhat hushed. Compose yourself, Bella!

[paintedgrey78]

((Sorry it took so long for me to reply. I've been very busy with sports and exams, but it's a lot better since it's all over now :). I also hope that you're okay with Adele and Larkin going into the courtyard? I wasn't sure whether or not you would want to do that.))

"I'd be delighted to." Hearing his response Adele turned to face the Baron, smiling at him politely. She had hoped he would accept her offer, for it would give her the chance to become well known to all those who live in the palace.

"Wonderful," she replied, looking down at her dress. It was quite wrinkled from all the fidgeting she was doing, so she quickly smoothed it out and continued speaking. "Shall we head to the courtyard then? I think it would be best if we had some fresh air." Holding out her hand, the two of them strolled out into the courtyard. Afternoon had arrived, and the sun was at the peak of its height. Its rays beamed down on Adele, causing her to her to sigh quietly. Since spring had arrived the weather had made a drastic change, going from chilly to warm in a matter of days. It seemed as if it would take quite a while for her to get used to the hot temperature.

Due to the brightness of the sun, she closed her eyes slightly as she searched for a place to rest. Gazing around the courtyard her eyes rested upon a nearby bench, and she strode forward, gesturing for Larkin to follow. “Would you like to sit down and rest?” she asked curiously. “The choice is yours.” She gave a smile, hoping she wasn’t coming off a controlling. She didn’t want to force the Baron into doing something he didn’t wish to do. Besides, whether or not she wanted the him to do something, she couldn’t possibly control him. He did indeed have a mind of his own and if he didn’t want to sit down, then he wouldn’t.

Resting her hands by her sides Adele stood next to the bench, waiting for Larkin to reply. She gazed towards the older man, hoping he didn't think she was some pompous, overbearing woman.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Yes, that's exactly it *snicker* The spiders are all minions of Marie-Elisabeth and are planning to engage in guerilla warfare on Bella any minute now :P And you thought she had people assasins;))))

[AtropaMandragora]

The Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan liked to make things easy for himself. A true hedonist, he was simply too busy enjoying life and it's many pleasures, to waste time on matters of an all too serious or irksome nature, sometimes even going as far as to pretend they simply did not exists. As was the case with the sharp mind and keen sense of perception of his wife, in relation to his infidelity. Blissfully unaware of the fact that while she might not know about some of his affairs for sure, she had her suspicions about all of them, César still carried on with his small charades of having to go away on business every now and then, or being at a party or a meeting that ran so late that he had been asked by the hosts to stay the night, as riding home on a deserted road in pitch-black darkness could be quite the dangerous endeavor. All the while seeing on Joséphine's face the look he wanted and chose to see - that of believing his every word - when he offered his various explanations for missing from their bed, or, such as now, Joséphine's company for a notable period of time. Somewhere in his mind, balancing on the border of his consciousness and his subconscious, was the decision not to catch onto Joséphine's actual awareness of what she pretended not to see. An act, of which he saw only half the stage, mostly due to not being interested in the other half, while Joséphine herself saw, and watched, all of it. Usually, when it came to women, César would be able to discern what emotions were hiding behind their display of whatever feeling they were trying to enact, but when it came to that faint glow of bitterness in Joséphine's eyes when he himself acted as though nothing was wrong and no lies were told - or rather half-truths in his case, as he tried to avoid actually lying to her - he was as dense as a brick wall. (Apparently, cheating on her was not a problem, but telling her lies, that would leave a stale taste in his mouth.)

That was why he didn't see the diminutive, cynical twist to the smile Joséphine had offered as he greeted her, and it was why he didn't see the way she seemed to wince ever so slightly at his mention of a certain Comtesse. That, and the fact that he had now forgotten all about his intentions with Marie-Elisabeth yesterday, as he stood there, inspecting the tiny but noticeable scars running across the soft skin of his wife's arms.

"You are not going to work up a fuss about them too, are you?" she said, and César was once again perceptive enough to pick up on her tone of voice, this time being one of slight amusement hidden beneath a layer of sternness, as a way of disarming his concerns, which was helped along nicely by the smile on her lips. "Octavien and Comtesse Devine practically hounded me to have them treated yesterday."

Still, there lingered a little bit of skepticism in César's eyes when he glanced up at her, as though not yet fully convinced. Like most, he too had that piece of him deep down, that doubted everyone's good judgement but his own, and thus wouldn't believe in full that Joséphine was perfectly alright, until he himself had made sure of it. Though he didn't say anything, and when she made a move to withdraw her hands from him as she continued speaking, he reluctantly let go.

"But enough about that", she dismissed any further worrying, giving a small wave of her hand for emphasis. "I promise you, mon cher, they do not even pain me any more."

That being said, the subject was indeed closed, and she continued once more;

"You and Comtesse Valois went riding yesterday? I see you are getting along well; it reminds me I should perhaps socialize more, I seem to be missing all the news. I wonder if anything at all worthwhile has happened this morning."

Re-enter César's ignorance. With no effort at all, he completely missed the tell-tale intensity in her gaze as it locked with his, and the ever so faint innuendo of her awareness regarding his interest for Marie-Elisabeth, that stirred beneath the surface of the words about 'getting along'. Though he did remain observant enough to be thankful for the fact that she didn't leave that particular statement hanging in the air with a pause, forcing him to give some kind of reply, but simply continued with a much more welcome topic of conversation.

"It has", César confirmed with a nod, and his face lit up slightly with a rather sly smile. "Octavien's bride arrived not too long ago. A very attractive woman, if you ask me. I don't expect Octavien will have any problems enjoying... her company."

Words that from anyone else might have sounded innocent enough, but from the Marquis and his sometimes rather one-track mind... Well, suffice to say there was a hidden meaning there, brought to life even further by the slight twitch of his lips as he tried to suppress a chuckle, thinking about the reluctance Octavien had expressed to him in private, regarding sharing bed with a woman he didn't care for, and would have preferred not to meet at all. Especially considering he had been given no choice in the matter.

[Slytherin-Girl]

As a testament to her infamous composure skills, Marie-Elisabeth was able to resist the urge to do a triumphant dance around the room. It was difficult to do so, but she managed somehow. It appeared as though her “conversation” with Bella was having the desired effect of making the woman bored stiff and thinking Marie-Elisabeth had no worthwhile thoughts in her head, which was precisely what she had in mind. She inwardly laughed at the fact that she could probably keep it up for hours if she chose, with such an extensive and colourful family there was no shortage of stories to tell about them. It was also amusing her immensely to watch Bella’s continuing discomfort which, she was now all but certain, was due not just to her own presence but to the surroundings as well.

Marie-Elisabeth was actually quite enjoying the Orangery herself. She had loved spending time in the one that her family had at home as a child, admiring all the pretty flowers and trees growing in it. She wasn’t much of a person for traipsing about in the woods like her brothers were, but the peacefulness and beauty of the Orangery had appealed to her immensely. It was always relatively quiet and, in a family like hers, quiet was much sought after. She was actually rater amazed she hadn't thought to come here sooner.

“It was nice” she mused, bending down to pick up a flower that had fallen off the bush it was growing on “I wish he was still around to spend time with like that”.

She distracted herself from the impending sad thoughts that tended to come when she thought of her father by looking at the flower. It was a lovely creamy white colour that ironically reminded her of the bracelet she wore around her wrist. “There really are such pretty flowers in here, it’s amazing” she said, glancing down at it and noticing a spider on the stem. “Whoops, spider” she said, idly reaching towards the flower with her other hand and flicking it off.

“There, much better” she said, taking the flower and tucking it into her hat where it matched the false ones already winding around the brim.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Everyone - Just a reminder, tomorrow Evening is called





Octavien and Elena -- The Princess' Suite

Elena Sánchez was not a particularly likeable person, and she knew it. Even when she did tame her conduct down to the acceptable norm for a woman of noble birth, some of that sly, imperious attitude that lurked inside, never far from the surface, ended up infiltrating her guise. She lacked that enticing fragility surrounding most ladies, the kind which lured men into the false role of self-entitled “protectors”, or, thank the Lord, the vapid imbecility that plagued the world in the form of many a pretentious airhead. In consequence, men tended not to trust her when they first met; they were, after all, limited by their pre-conceived idea that women should submit to them, and a Elena's bearing, which was anything but humble or submissive, put them on their guard. An intelligent man however recognized the advantages of having Elena as an ally rather than an enemy, and despite the belief of some, she rarely acted against someone who had not incurred her wrath in some way.

Having been observing Octavien for some time already, Elena recognized that same caution she had seen before, though had yet to decide whether it was due simply to the impression she was making on him or something else; after all, she had done her best not to spook him, thus alienating him before they were even married, something which could have made things needlessly difficult later on. Perhaps it was just natural suspicion considering the circumstances of their...association, though Elena had a habit of assuming there was always a second, even a third side to every story. For the moment however, she simply watched, listened and waited.

"Thank you", the Prince began with a smile that seemed warmer than his previous ones, "And please accept my sympathy, as I know your position is indeed a difficult one as well."

Leaning back ever so slightly against the brocade-encased cushions behind her, Elena's well defined brows moved marginally upwards in an arch: what, that was it? He wasn't going to recite one of those customary speeches about how grievous his loss had been, but all things happened for a reason and hoped that their union would be blessed with better fortune and happiness? One of the things Elena had hoped to stir with the question was, indeed, a sign of grief, that Octavien did indeed mourn Adalita's passing. She could not see anything conclusive, nor did the Prince's answer relinquish any of his thoughts in association with their engagement, which lead Elena to consider just how he had risen to his current rank in the first place. She knew the simplified tale of course: the young, handsome but untitled Octavien Lahance arrived to the Court to make his fortune, and fell in love with the Princess who loved him in her turn, enough to look beyond his humble birth and marry him. It appeared nothing short of a fairytale ending in tragedy, one Elena doubted with the same conviction with which she knew that fairies did not exist, and the apparent lack of sorrow the Prince exhibited only strengthened that conviction. All of a sudden, a series of scenarios deviating from the main story contoured themselves in Elena's mind: perhaps Octavien had taken advantage of Adalita's feelings to rise to power, but that immediately clashed with the obvious fact that the Royal family would never have permitted it if they hadn't had something to gain from the union. No, there had to be a good reason for this most unorthodox union, and Octavien did not have the bearing of someone ruthless and crafty enough to manipulate the most powerful family in the country. No, it was far more likely that it had been the other way around, for some yet unfathomable reason, just as they were now pushing him into a marriage to her. He did seem ...pliant enough to fit the bill. Yes, that was the word, pliant - amiable and intelligent enough to carry his new title without making a complete and utter fool of himself, but not sharp enough to constitute a real danger, that was the impression she was getting of him. Still, Elena was not ready to make a final assessment based on just one encounter, always keeping that second side of each matter within the reach of her awareness.

Considering she had seen no indication that Octavien held strict protocol close to his heart, Elena decided to prod a little deeper, following another of her curiosities concerning the young Prince.

“Finding oneself in a position one isn't accustomed to is never an easy task”, she replied pointedly, looking Octavien in the eyes, her lips curving slightly. “One has two choices: either adapt and survive, or accept defeat and be overwhelmed by said difficulties. I believe Your Majesty understands best.”

Octavien was right, from his point of view: as a foreigner who claimed Adalita's room, title and husband so shortly after her death, Elena faced the double predicament of adapting to a foreign country while abandoning her own, and gaining the acceptance if not the appreciation of the people. She preferred to see it as a challenge. No one but a simpleton could miss the similarities between their situations, and while she stood at the beginning of her journey, Octavien's was far from complete.

[Alissa888]

“It was nice,” Marie-Elisabeth continued what was now quite literally beginning to bore Bella, picking up a fallen flower. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the other Comtesse, telling her that she frankly didn’t care how nice her marriage was. How very, very nice it was to sit at home all day. “I wish he was still around to spend time with like that.”

Possibly a minor tinge of guilt crept into Bella at the last statement. Quite evidently, Marie-Elisabeth missed him and for all her annoying traits, she was still human and worthy of compassion. However, Bella was not about to launch into a bout of sympathy for the woman. Compassion was one thing, sympathy was quite literally another kettle of fish and Marie-Elisabeth would be waiting for the cows to come home before Bella spared her any sympathy. So, she simply smiled understandingly as Marie-Elisabeth spoke.

“There really are such pretty flowers in here, it’s amazing,” she continued in admiration of the flower in her hand as Bella’s gaze wandered over to it.

Well, who would have thought, Lizzie? A pretty flower in an Orangery. How unexpected.] Bella thought sardonically to herself, watching the other woman. My goodness, I am shocked.

“Whoops, spider,” Marie-Elisabeth noticed and casually flicked off the disgusting life form. Meanwhile, Bella’s fears betrayed her. The sharp gasp of air that fled into her throat was uncontrollable as the step back that she took away from the Comtesse and her new friend. It was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because she was so expertly in control of all her other emotions and reactions, creating a perfect façade when she wanted to, but for the matter of spiders. A curse because it always seemed to break though every wall she ever raised, getting through to the real Bella.

“There, much better,” Marie-Elisabeth tucked the flower into her hat as Bella watched with slightly widened eyes. Oh, she had to get out. She had to leave now. She would drag Marie-Elisabeth out herself, in needs be, but she had to get out of here and now.

“Well, Comtesse, that certainly completes the hat,” she commented, somewhat hushed as each hand cupped around the elbows of the other arm. Tilting her head towards the door of the Orangery, the much desired exit, Bella forced a convincing smile. “Shall we continue our exploration of the palace?”

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine and César -- The Palace Corridors


Had Joséphine hoped to notice even the faintest hint of recognition stir behind her husband's gaze, she would have been disappointed to find none, even at the anvil-sized hints she had dropped regarding Marie-Elisabeth and their 'riding trip'. Indeed the tiny expectation of any sort of acknowledgement from his part crumbled to pieces when set against his refusal not only to show any, but to admit any fault, even to his own self. The bitter truth was, César's mind was entirely free of guilt when it came to infidelity, a strange contrast with his otherwise caring, even scrupulous attitude towards her feelings and well being. He apologized not for courting another woman, but for being away from Joséphine's company.

Suppressing a sigh, the Marquise gave in, abandoning her efforts to incite her husband's guilt, or any sort of conversation regarding his absence. Nothing less than a full confrontation would have worked in this case, something Joséphine was absolutely not ready for. Not then, not in the middle of a palace corridor, and definitely not without irrefutable proof.

Life however had its small mercies, sometimes found in the most unexpected of places, such as the good timing of a conversation that forced one's thoughts away from their own problems and focused them on something different, if only for a while. When Joséphine had mentioned that morning's noteworthy events, she had done so with the intention of creating a loop in a discussion which would have otherwise made them both uncomfortable, with nothing to be gained from it. César's reply however jogged something inside, reminding her of Octavien, and his predicament. She had of course been surprised at the news of his speedy engagement, but the arrival of a bride made it so much more real, and present. He truly was about to be married, to a woman he did not even know.

"It has", César had told her with an increasingly sly grin, "Octavien's bride arrived not too long ago. A very attractive woman, if you ask me. I don't expect Octavien will have any problems enjoying... her company."

The slight hesitation, the thinly veiled chuckle that accompanied it, and not in the least Joséphine's thorough knowledge of the way her husband's mind tended to work left little doubt over what part of his bride's “company” he predicted that Octavien would be soon enjoying. Being the sort of man who would have had trouble remaining on purely platonic terms with a woman he found comely, and judging by his experiences with women saw no reason to try, did not truly see why other men would find any impediments.

Joséphine however doubted that Octavien shared his views; she knew from his own admissions that he put more value on fidelity even if yesterday's encounter had somewhat shaken that belief, and despite not knowing many details about the Prince's amorous life, she could not imagine him being overjoyed at the thought of marrying a woman he had never met in his life nor knew anything about, beautiful or not. That was just not the Octavien she knew.

Shooting a skeptical look César's way, Joséphine gave her shoulders a small shrug, seized by the temptation of slipping just one other hint:

“They are complete strangers though,” she told him, “Some men require more than a comely exterior to enjoy a woman's...company.”

[Slytherin-Girl]

Looking over at Bella’s obviously fearful posture, despite her trying to hide it, it was hard not to smirk for Marie-Elisabeth right now. So very hard. It was taking most of her willpower not to break into a very unseemly grin, akin to that of a child on Christmas morning. This particular discovery was possibly one of the funniest things she had found out in a long time, and watching Bella jump back like she had just made it better.

“I would’ve flicked it in her direction if I had’ve known” she thought, settling for inwardly grinning “Accidentally of course. But I can’t believe it, the little twit is afraid of itty bitty spiders. Of all the stupid things to be afraid of, she picks spiders. I’m really going to have to thank Max for chasing after me with them so much”.

Distracted from her thoughts by Bella’s suggestion of continued exploration, she looked outside and realized that it was later than she had originally thought. She had initially possessed every intention of delaying their journey in the orangery as long as possible, hoping to find some more flowers with arachnid friends nestling inside. But with night time rapidly approaching, she thought better of it. That and the fact that if she had to stand around being pleasant with Bella much longer she might scream, despite her amusement at her discomfort.

“It appears as though we’ll have to delay that until another time” she said, gesturing outside “It’s gotten quite late, we had best be getting back to the palace before they serve dinner without us. I’d like to get a letter written to my little chou d’amour too, since I do so want him to be here in enough time to witness the wedding”.


(((OOC: HAHAHA I totally meant her dad by the wish he was around thing. She was a huggge daddy's girl :P Charles it's kinda like...poo he's not around to pay attention to me and give me things anymore LOL Feel free to have them leave Alissa)))

[AtropaMandragora]

It is curious, how virtues never cared about before, can all of a sudden become so very treasured when they are no longer free to be practiced. One always wants what one can not have; the very essence of the human psyche, put into words.

In Octavien's case, the virtue in question was, of course, that of honesty. Where before he hadn't suffered the burden of harbouring too many scruples about telling lies at his own convenience, he now realized that through the recent turn of events, being truthful had somehow transformed, and was no longer a right, but a luxury. One that even as Prince, with the overabundance of the royal treasury at his disposal (officially, at least), he could not always afford. Not that he had been a compulsive liar before, or even come anywhere near the term, but he did use to have very few qualms about telling a little white lie here and there to help keep his life running smoothly.
Now, however, he found his preference to be that of telling the truth, rather than lies, even the small white ones, but that his current situation allowed him to do so only to a certain degree, lest he'd end up throwing away what he had worked so hard to achieve.
Or, it could be that his sudden urge to tell the truth, simply had to do with freedom of choice. When free to pick the when's, the where's and the what's of lying, Octavien still harboured few scruples, as proven by and to himself a mere few days ago when ridding himself and the Queen of the threat posed by a certain Marquess. But, when forced by others, such as the King and even César using his own benevolence against him, Octavien wanted nothing more than to rise against them and seize back control from out of their hands, but didn't, because of other people or factors involved.
If the wish sprung from immaturity, rebellion, or simple determination, he wasn't quite sure. Probably a little bit of all three, if he tried to look at it objectively.

Regardless, it was a wish that stuck with him. Even now, when with someone he absolutely did not trust, and would rather not have even met at all for that matter, if one was to be perfectly honest, he did his best to remain truthful, directly or otherwise. It was why when offered Elena's condolences on his wife's passing, he did not throw himself into a lenghty account of woe and heartbreak, and empty words of hopeful expectations regarding the union the two of them would soon be embarking on. No matter if it was what was expected of him. He did see the way her eyebrows rose, even if it was just barely noticable, in what appeared to be slight surprise at his lack of customary drivel, but if they had now both willingly deviated from the path of perfectly proper protocol, then he saw no reason to feed Her Excellency lies, when he himself remained skeptical to the entire affair. Furthermore, she obviously was bright enough to catch on to the deceit offered to her by the King, partly via Octavien, and so would surely catch the deceit lurking in such a phony statement as well.

As for the part about Adalita's death... Let them think he was too numbed by the pain to show his grief, or that the extent of the earth-shattering tragedy had yet to dawn on him, that he was struggling to shield himself from the moment that it would. Let them think that he hadn't loved her, that he had only used her as a way of rising to fame, wealth and power. Frankly, he didn't care. There were already so many theories popping out of the ground like mushrooms, that one more or less wouldn't matter. And to be perfectly honest, he was currently tiring of all these pretend games. The previous day, of trying to pretend to Joséphine that César was not off chasing other women again, had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and him feeling that he'd had quite enough of it all for a while. It was those games that got to him; when faced with someone with whom he wanted to be honest, but couldn't, lest he'd end up hurting someone else he cared for. Compared to those, the games of politics were a piece of cake.

"Finding oneself in a position one isn't accustomed to is never an easy task", Elena said, with an undertone to her voice and smile that would have left little doubt that her own was not the only situation she was referring to, had her final words not spoken for themselves. "One has two choices: either adapt and survive, or accept defeat and allow oneself to be overwhelmed by said difficulties. I believe Your Majesty understands best."

Gazing back at her, two sets of scrutinizing eyes locked with one another, Octavien couldn't help but feel a faintly amused smile tug at the corners of his mouth. She didn't exactly beat around the bush, did she? A mere few minutes into the conversation, and she had already touched the two subjects anyone who was even the slightest bit more timid would probably have avoided like the plague, for now. To most, a first meeting associated with sorrow and difficulties would mean a very glum first impression, and everyone knew how the first impression would make for quite a challenge, when trying to change people's opinion about oneself. Few soon-to-be Princesses would have dared to venture there, and risk causing the Prince, their future husband, to think of them not as a new and cheerful breath of life in his existence, but as a reminder of loss and trials suffered.
Ballsy lady, he'd give her that. He could even appreciate and respect it, for if there was one thing he wasn't interested in, it was another flimsy goose that had the attentionspan of a two year-old, and would forget all about promises and agreements and whatnot, at the drop of a hat. And if that meant his future wife would be an intelligent and thus possibly difficult woman to handle, then so be it. At least there was more to gain from such a woman, than a headache.

However, respect and appreciation or not, Octavien was still determined to keep a bit of a low profile, until he'd had the time and opportunity to observe Elena enough to decide whether or not she had her own agenda, if she was sharing an agenda with the King, or anyone else for that matter, or if the impression he currently had of her was simply caused by his bitterness turning into paranoia, and she was simply intelligent, but agreeable.
And so, he continued down the path he had already started on. With a small detour, as he couldn't help but make an observation;

"True enough", he agreed. "Though there are those that adapt too well too soon, I'm afraid."

More than once over the course history, upstarts such as himself had incited anger and fury in people, nobility and commoners alike, by turning arrogant and presumptious over night, forgetting their humble background or whatever other asepcts of their rise to power that were ill-advised to forget so easily. Neither the Prince nor the soon-to-be Princess were currently the darlings of the kingdom, and while Octavien genuinly hung onto his humility as a previously untitled man, and at the same time tried to live up to the expectations placed on the shoulders of a Prince, it still was no easy task. Nor would it be for Elena, even if the people and other nobles were not overly zealous in honoring Adalita's memory.

With those words, however, the small detour from his main path was over, and he continued after allowing the briefest of pauses to pave the way for a slight twist of the current topic;

"Does it bother you, Your Excellency?" he asked bluntly, though his voice was still pleasantly soft. "My rather modest and widely known ancestry? Or lack thereof, as some might say."

It was a question that, while it to Octavien was meant to cause a reaction, even just the tiniest sign of one, that he might learn something, could also easily be interpreted as the frank straightforwardness of a simple mind, unrestrainable by savoir-faire and subtleties, unbothered by the wisdom of putting things a bit more delicately.


(((ooc: I'm afraid this is all I'm gonna be able to post today. Working the night shift again, leaving in half an hour, and won't be home until the morning.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

It is now Evening, everyone.

[Alissa888]

Damn it! It was clear Marie-Elisabeth had realised Bella’s deepest and truest fear. Damn. Argh! It was frustrating, to say the least, that the one thing she lacked control over had proved to be so embarrassing time and again. Wait. So what if Marie-Elisabeth knew? There were so many people afraid of ridiculous things like peas, why shouldn’t she be afraid of spiders? It was perfectly natural.

“It appears as though we’ll have to delay that until another time” Marie-Elisabeth replied to Bella’s request that they leave the Orangery as soon as possible. “It’s gotten quite late, we had best be getting back to the palace before they serve dinner without us. I’d like to get a letter written to my little chou d’amour too, since I do so want him to be here in enough time to witness the wedding.”

Oh, thank you God, I always believed in you, Bella sighed softly as she looked out the window the Orangery into the falling night. True, time had passed alarmingly and the morning’s encounter with Marie-Elisabeth had gripped her attentions until night time so that she was stuck in an Orangery with the other Comtesse. Furthermore, the woman had proved a worthless source of information and now only really fit for Bella’s breaks for entertainment. Good enough, she supposed. She’d continue to play the ‘silly little girl’ with Marie-Elisabeth, lest she was discovered to be what she really was.

“Yes,” she almost hissed with a smile at Marie-Elisabeth. “I must admit, I am simply famished.”

With that, she moved with even catlike grace towards the doors, the intentions in her steps not waning as Marie-Elisabeth followed her exit.

[AtropaMandragora]

From the moment of his conception, life had always been good to César. The gods were always smiling at him, it seemed, blessing him with looks, charm and a way with words, and, as would be discovered as he advanced from childhood to adolescence, with the ladies as well. He was born into a wealthy and prominent family, and as an only child was practically spoilt rotten. Furthermore, once he was of age, he had the good fortune of being engaged to be married to not only one of the most beautiful and intelligent girls he had ever met, but one he instantly fell in love with as well, and would come to have two equally beautiful and bright girls with.

Sure there had been hard times, such as when his younger brother and his father died, but even then there had been circumstances to easen the blow. When his brother died, following a childbirth with so many complications that his mother could have no more children, César had still not been old enough to even understand the meaning of the word 'brother'. And when his father had passed, he had already grown to be a man, aware enough of the fickleness of life and death, and thus able to handle it accordingly, with a little help of his darling wife and the then newly born Adéle.

So, it really was no wonder then, that he was the kind of person to take the long and adventurous journey that was life, fairly lightly, and enjoy everything that could possibly be enjoyed. Nor was it any wonder that, since he had a tendency to judge everyone else's situations and tribulations according to his own views of the matter, he would find Octavien's current dilemma to be no dilemma at all. He didn't know about his friend's infatuation with the Queen, though he did know his marriage to the former Princess had not been one based on love, and so he didn't see the problem of marrying that dark, mysterious beauty they had all gotten a glimpse of a few hours ago. She was a magnificent creature; beautiful face, intelligent eyes and a build that suggested a body any man would be lucky to find in his bed, even though perhaps the many layers of fabric of her dress had left a bit too much to the imagination. And the fact that she was a Spaniard, why, that was only a bonus, wasn't it? Everyone knew how passionate and fiery Spanish women were.
Octavien ought to be quite pleased.

But then again, he might be. What he had expressed to César had been thoughts and fears harboured when he had yet to meet his future wife and see what she looked like. Apparently and for some reason, the Spaniards in charge of the arrangements had failed to send a portrait of Her Exellency, or even a description of what she looked like, so of course, as far as Octavien had known back then, she could've been hideous.
Now, however, he must have changed his mind, surely? He couldn't be that picky. Especially not since he, by his own admission, had not had a woman since coming to court. Hard though is was to believe, considering he'd seemed quite friendly with a certain brunette the other night. But oh well. Octavien always had been a bit of a slow operator, when compared to his smooth philanderer of friend.

Though while César was rather certain that Octavien would be overcoming his issues right about now, Joséphine on the other hand didn't seem quite as convinced.

"They are complete strangers though," she said. "Some men require more than a comely exterior to enjoy a woman's... company."

Along with the highly skeptical look and the shrug she offered, it all suggested that she would sooner believe Octavien's problems remained. And she hadn't even heard him talk about them.
Or had she? César had left her and Octavien with the opportunity to talk for quite a bit yesterday. Perhaps Octavien had expressed his concerns to Joséphine then? Or perhaps she too sensed that there was something going on between the Prince and the pretty Comtesse Devine, and didn't see it as a possibility that both relationships could co-exists, much like César's own marriage and affairs did.
Ah, sweet naive Joséphine.

"Nonsense", he said and gave a curt, dismissive wave, not even giving a single thought to the fact that he was pretty much about to incriminate himself. "When it comes to carnal pleasures, men are simple and easygoing creatures. It is women that recquire the work."

Mostly, he just said what he said in an attempt to instigate another one of the usual and highly entertaining sessions of playful bickering that he enjoyed so much, rousing her argumentative side by provoking her and simplifying something to a point in which he didn't fully believe, but could still argue as though he did.


(((ooc: *snickers* 'Sweet naive Joséphine'. If only he knew, eh? ;) )))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: paintedgrey, sorry for the long silence, I've been busy IRL and my muse has gone south without posting an itinerary, the jerk (:p). There's a pretty intense thunderstorm here and I'm on a desktop, so I'll post a reply once the weather improves.))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: sorry, might be tomorrow before I can get a reply in. My cousin just had a baby so i'm going to be busy :) *is really excited*)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Furry Panda - thanks for letting us know, I hope your inspiration returns soon!:D

Robyn - eee congratulations! :D

Atropa - Elena will be posted tomorrow, I'm beat))


César and Joséphine, the Corridors

Matched only by his impressive ability to outright ignore the most obvious of innuendos if it suited him was César's famous tendency to follow through with his impressions and opinions, in spite of most attempts to change them. In other words, the young Marquis often liked to think he was right, and even when he didn't, pretended to nonetheless for the pure amusement of inciting a reaction, such as the flaring of Joséphine's argumentative side. He knew her well, and was aware of a tendency she also had to hold an argument when she believed herself to be in the right, thus provoking the beginning of yet another round of playful banter.

This time however, there was a difference. Joséphine's disposition was anything but playful, despite her increasingly better attempts at masking it. She had, after all, plenty of practice, despite never before having come that close to an actual honest confrontation with her husband regarding his affairs. It was perhaps due to the deep set belief César held that his wife not only would not dream of acting on such an impulse but that she also had no reason to, as far as she knew, that he formulated his reply the way he did:

"Nonsense", he said dismissively "When it comes to carnal pleasures, men are simple and easygoing creatures. It is women that require the work."

Joséphine's eyes widened before she could smother the impulse, experiencing the oddest impression of having just listened to César's simplified description of the way he regarded his affairs, a rudimentary sort of confession. He was either being completely reckless or blissfully unaware of the weight carried in those few words, perhaps a bit of both, and there was no mistaking that impish smirk that signified a subtle, but real provocation. As such, one could be certain he wasn't entirely truthful.

This time, the Marquise was ready to play.

“I don't believe that's true, it's no secret that some women require very little work indeed” she replied on a thoughtful tone as she appeared to review a few facts in her mind. She was of course referring to those promiscuous ladies that made the gossip of every party, in spite of their best attempts at keeping appearances. “Furthermore...are you saying men are nothing but single-minded beings driven by lust alone and with no standards than simple beauty? ”

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Ghanima - It's fine, take your time. :) Hope the below post is ok? We haven't discussed Jo's relationship with her now deceased father-in-law at all, and only briefly touched on the subject of her mother-in-law. So, if you imagined things differently, let me know.)))


A match made in Heaven. Those had been the words of Jean-Baptiste de la Valliére, one late afternoon in autumn years ago, when he sat listening to the lively and high spirited conversation between his beloved son, and cherished daughter-in-law. Seated in his favorite armchair, by the fireplace in the salon of the de la Valliére country Château, he had observed the young couple, like so many times before, listening as they bickered playfully about something that in the old Marquis' eyes didn't seem to even matter anymore, as it apparently posed only as an excuse for the two of them to try and prove eachother wrong. Unlike his wife, the aging man shared his son's appreciation for Joséphine's opinionated person, partly because he genuinely liked the girl, and partly because he could tell his son adored her and that clever mind of hers, that would often give him quite a run for his money when there was a disagreement. It was obvious just how much César appreciated the challenge, as he would even go as far as to feign ignorance, sometimes even downright stupidity, just to instigate an argument. Or, as could sometimes be the case when he desired an actual and meaningful conversation, he would simply ask for Joséphine's opinion on something; a book, a play, philosophy, politics, there was no limit to his faith in her ability to deliver intelligent, educated and insightful viewpoints.
Now yes, it was somewhat unusual for a man to encourage his wife to be outspoken and to challenge him, sometimes even infront of guests, and Jeanne, César's mother, strongly advised against it, insisting that it made them all look bad. But César didn't agree, nor did he care. He was proud to have a wife that not only could hold her own in any conversation, but sometimes even outshine her conversational partners with her wit.
A match made in Heaven indeed.

The words came back to César now, as he discovered, much to his mirthful satisfaction, that Joséphine did decide to accomodate his wish. Triggering his amusement at first, with the look of slight surprise that spilt across her comly features - which César quite conveniently mistook for surprise at his directness regarding the act of lovemaking, rather than the fact that it was the closest thing he had ever come to a confession, albeit one made of pure ignorance, regarding his 'indiscretion' - she then moved on to pick up the gauntlet that he had thrown down at her feet, delivering a swift retort to his bold statement;

"I don't believe that's true", she argued thoughtfully, clearly with some tangible, contradicting scenario in mind. "Furthermore... are you saying men are nothing but single-minded beings driven by lust alone and with no standards than simple beauty?"

In all honesty, César himself really had no trouble picturing just what exactly Joséphine had been referring to when rebuting his allegation, but still once again feigned complete ignorance with a skeptical look similar to the one Joséphine herself had donned a minute ago, all for the sake of the argument. Though when came time for him to reply, he left that particular part of her statement hanging, in favour of answering the question asked;

"What I am saying, my dear", he started, while wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her closer, and gazing down at her with mischief practically shooting from his eyes, "... is that when in bed with a beautiful woman, men don't seek to make conversation."

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Ghanima thanks! And muse hasn't returned, but ah well, at least there's something to work with. Mental floor goo if you would. And with that utterly resounding introduction to yonder post...))

Larkin heard the girl's relief that he agreed to walk with her. Surely not nervousness? Yes he was the queen's uncle, but if the Baroness's earlier behavior was any indication, she had other places to be than making fairly poor conversation with him. He decided not to be flattered at his own prowess, he had introduced himself, and even a rudimentary knowledge of noble genealogies would have mentioned the Baron d'Aurvilies, mainly because his older brother was kind enough to split his duchy among his brothers rather than claim the entire thing and leave the family to find their own fortunes. A rare enough thing, and thus one that would be taught, especially to a girl as young as this one. Of course, anyone older would have heard of the entire thing as well, most nobles that Larkin knew would add whomever the newest royal was to their knowledge of heraldry as a matter of course.

The Baroness had smoothed out her skirts after some truly titanic levels of fidgeting- more of the inexplicable nervousness, or was she some sort of shut in? The thought amused Larkin slightly but he did not let that onto his face as she offered him her arm to go a-walking, saying as she did "Shall we head to the courtyard then? I think it would be best if we had some fresh air." As to whether she intended to lead him outside or expected him to do so, Larkin did not find out, since he did not take her arm, considering it too familiar a gesture and interpreting that she offered only as a courtesy.

The two strolled into the courtyard in silence, Larkin engrossed in the lovely wall decorations, and on occasion on his lovely companion- not that he thought anything might come to fruition, but he figured at his age he could look at younger women for purely aesthetic appeal. And tweak Baroness Devine with slightly misplaced bitterness.

They arrived outside in due course, their silence more companionable than awkward. The late afternoon soon was just starting to wend its way towards twilight, and Larkin was pleased to note Adele stop to close her eyes, seemingly to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air for a moment. It was a delight to find other people who had some appreciation for nature as a pure relaxant. Her eyes opened and flickered around the courtyard, perhaps seeking out some of the prettier bits of gardening. Larkin was ever so slightly disappointed to find that she had been looking about with a much more pragmatic purpose, given that she started to walk towards a nearby bench. She asked curiously, "“Would you like to sit down and rest? The choice is yours.”

Larkin gave her a small smile, that last statement was a poor attempt at courtesy or a thinly veiled note of fear, mayhaps of him, or of seeming presumptuous. Neither one of which Larkin wanted, the idea of people fearing him unless he specifically had cultivated it did not appeal to him, and if the far likelier thing, that it was just a poor attempt at courtesy, was true, then Larkin would have preferred she dispense with it entirely if she couldn't do it properly. He doubted that a small smile would remove a sense of fear, or do away with sharply trained courtesies, but then again, it couldn't hurt.

He was about to voice his assent, he had been walking about in one way or another since morning after all, but the slowly darkening twilight gave him pause for a moment, and he smoothly transitioned into an entirely different thing to say, "I'd be delighted to, but it looks like it will be getting dark soon. I had been planning on going to dinner around now. If you would like to accompany me, you are welcome to." A small imp of perversity led him to mimic her words of a moment ago, "The choice is yours." Let her see how annoying those basic courtesies were in an informal setting.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Sorry if this is tangled, I've been having some trouble with my scattered thoughts in this post. Also I didn't know what you wanted to do with them for dinner, so if changes need be made, let me know...))


Octavien and Elena - Elena's suite

Contrary to popular belief, Elena Sánchez could treat certain matters with surprising patience, quite the opposite of the overbearing, demanding streak she possessed otherwise which required instant gratification. The latter manifested itself in situations when Elena desired a particular result, and desired it fast, failure and delay inciting her anger with treacherous ease. For example, the crass incompetence of others ground her gears like no other, as did stupidity, empty words and unreliability, along with a host of other annoyances she has had the displeasure of encountering in her fellow human beings.

The difference between a simply petulant person and Elena stood in the fact that she could restrain her impatience for lengthy amounts of time when the pros outweighed the cons, giving her ample time and opportunity to achieve the desired, otherwise impossible result. It did not mean she liked it; no, ideally all problems had quick, simple solutions, but one would have to be foolish indeed to attempt and apply such a wishful mindset to real life situations. Such was also the case with Octavien Lahance : before meeting him, Elena had entertained the tiny hope that his actions would leave little doubt as to what kind of man he was, thus allowing her to plan her next move with relative certainty. Much depended on it, for different men required different 'handling' and a mistake on her part could have had serious consequences – Octavien was one of the few members of the Court whom Elena had a real interst in keeping on her side, remembering how crucial her father's cooperation had been to her purposes in the past. The masses be damned, their collective opinions mattered little.

Unfortunately, young Lahance was proving to be quite a challenging puzzle. Seemingly reckless on one side and cautious on another, recognizing subtlety one second and downright ignoring it the next- Elena was unsure whether it was due to a somewhat poor intellect enhanced by good education or, on the contrary, the clever ruse of a cunning mind. Both were valid possibilities, simply underestimating him would have been too easy. It was fortunate indeed to have an alternative source of information on the matter, though in all honesty, fortune had nothing to do with it, and a certain newly-made Comtesse's role was the result of a very intentional machination.

"Does it bother you, Your Excellency?" the Prince blurted out all of a sudden, following a rather insightful comment and a short pause "My rather modest and widely known ancestry? Or lack thereof, as some might say."

Elena interlocked her fingers in her lap, her gaze piercing Octavien with renewed appraisal, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips: well, and she had actually thought she was was the one taking the blunt approach! The comment took her by surprise, considering the guarded stance the Prince had been exhibiting thus far, spurring those earlier musings: a simpleton pretending to be a clever man or a clever man pretending to be a simpleton? Bluntness was a double edged sword: it could prove useful as a wild card in a conversation, but it could easily turn into a trap if handled wrongly: Octavien had to be truly foolish to venture there without expecting consequences.

“As opposed to my own, illustrious lineage?” Elena replied, amusement glinting in her eyes, ready to catch any sort of reaction that would hint whether the Prince's question had been an intentional challenge or an unfortunate slip-up. If they were going to be blunt, they might as well walk the whole path, and it was no secret that her own bloodline was among the eldest and most noble of Europe. “I prefer to think that history will remember our deeds, not our ancestry.”

Ah, the beauty of wielding the ideal answer, without an ounce of deceit that could be later turned against you. Elena did put value on nobility, and would not have dreamt of marrying a man like Octavien had his rank stood even an inch below hers. As it happened however he was a Prince, with all the trappings that title entailed, her key to becoming a Princess of the French, something not even the most illustrious Duke of Spain could have offered. Thusly, his ancestry did not bother her, not as long as he remained Prince Octavien Lahance.

A discreet knock on the door signalled the arrival of two Palace servants with the task of lighting the many candles positioned around the suite, as evening descended upon them, and inquire whether Her Excellency would be dining downstairs or wished for something to be brought to her. Elena pondered this for a few moments, giving Octavien a questioning glance and a raised brow:

“Well, I do believe some company during supper would be most welcome, as I have sat in this room long enough today. Would Your Majesty like to join me...?”

[Slytherin-Girl]

If Marie-Elisabeth had her way, they probably would have stayed in the Orangery for a long time yet. There were so many places spiders and other similar creatures could be hiding and it would have been quite amusing to watch Bella squirm over them. But even her legendary powers of persuasion couldn’t prevent the sun from going down and evening approaching, so she reluctantly made the suggestion to leave. As much as she would have enjoyed staying, she knew did have to write back home soon in order to have Charles able to arrive in time for the wedding. And she was also starting to get rather hungry. She hadn’t eaten much that day, but she also did have to get the letter written, so she made a mental note to have her maids get her writing things out for her so she could do so as soon as dinner was done.

Her suggestion to exit the Orangery was accompanied by a practical hiss of agreement from her less than desirable companion, who nearly beat a path into the ground with her hasty exit out the doors. “Oh well” Marie-Elisabeth thought as she followed her outside “That just means it’s highly unlikely that she’ll ever come back in here. Which makes it just the sort of spot I intended to find this morning. Mission accomplished”. She smirked as she increased her pace to catch up with Bella.

“I’m getting rather hungry myself” she said as they walked through the paths back toward the palace “Do you think that her Excellency will be joining the rest of us for dinner, I can hardly wait to see what she’s like”.



(((OOC: I’m baaack :) And my new cousin is adorable! Thanks for waiting for me.

Random question, is the wedding going to occur tomorrow RP time, or at a later date. Just wondering if I have to bring in little Charles next RP day or if I can wait till later.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: The wedding won't be tomorrow, but the day after :) ))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Name: Charles Francis Xavier Valois II

Title: Newly changed to Marquis de Valois, previously Comte

Age: 6

Bio: Charles is the only child of Marie-Elisabeth and her deceased husband, Charles I. As such, he was granted the mostly symbolic title of Comte de Valois when his father passed away. But he won’t assume the full responsibility that entails until he comes of age, and Marie-Elisabeth is carrying out most of the duties right now. He and his mother have a very close, loving relationship, and he’s the centre of her world. He's often affectionately referred to by her with the nickname "Chou d'amour", meaning darling or sweetheart.

He has one of the worst mischievous steaks imaginable, but Charles is one of those children that are so sweet and lovable, it seems as though he can do no wrong. He could do something like destroy a flowerbed, but then he’d say he only did it to make a bouquet for his mother. He works hard at his studies to make her proud and to live up to his father’s image. He definitely hero-worships his father, and wants to be just like him someday. Much like his mother, he’s used to getting what he wants, hen he wants it.

Picture:

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/snapshot_f51243c6_d56e96d7.jpg

(((OOC: Oh okies, thanks! I'll have him arrive in the afternoon or something of the next day. Realistically it would probably take much longer, but I don't think anyone cares :P And this isn't really an official app, more just to give people an idea of how I picture him for when he pops up)))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: He's adorable, Robyn! And congratulations on your cousin's baby! Is it a boy or a girl? :D )))

Bella was glad to get out of there. She was glad to get away from those ugly, unsightful and unpleasant things. She wouldn’t go back in there if her life depended on it. Well, her life was not very likely to depend on it and therefore this was not a problem in the long run. Why did spiders exist?! Wait, wait, wait. She’d just made a spectacle of herself, a paradoxical subtle spectacle, but noticeable nonetheless. Now, unless Marie-Elisabeth was even more air-headed than she looked, it would be impossible that she hadn’t caught onto her phobia. What now? She wasn’t going to use it against her, was she? Although, this did mean that Marie-Elisabeth would realise that Bella wouldn’t venture back into the Orangery if the King himself demanded it.

“I’m getting rather hungry myself,” Marie-Elisabeth was speaking as they walked down the path leading them to the safety of the palace. “Do you think that her Excellency will be joining the rest of us for dinner, I can hardly wait to see what she’s like.”

Elena? Well, she was beautiful to say anything. Completely beautiful and utterly devastating. It wasn’t an innocent sort of appeal either, it was as if she had been bathed in womanliness rather than girlish femininity. A sort of femme fatale, a mild warning signal going off in it’s undertones, but still beckoning regardless, mind and body. The short while spent in Elena’s company had given Bella a reasonable, though difficult, insight of her – and no doubt did the same for Elena. As far as Bella was concerned, Elena was dangerous and Bella was playing with fire. Then again, that was in no way to say that Bella was a defenceless child in this situation. While not as bad as Elena, she was a sort of an apprentice, a miniature version. However, Bella doubted she would ever become as proficient as Elena in the games they played.

Well, Marie-Elisabeth was getting none of this information as Bella blandly nodded with matched curiosity.

“I’m sure she’s very charming,” she smiled agreeably at the other woman.

[Slytherin-Girl]

“I’m sure she’s very charming,” she smiled agreeably at the other woman.

Marie-Elisabeth had a strange nagging feeling that Bella was more knowledgeable than she had insinuated about things. She didn’t know what precisely it was that made her think it because she had no good reason to do so. But as her mother was eternally fond of saying, a woman’s intuition is a powerful thing indeed. So somehow she knew she had made the right choice by putting on the foolish act and keeping everything of importance to herself.

“Oh I’m sure she must be” Marie-Elisabeth said as they made their way through the large elegant doors that were the entrance to the palace “How can one possibly be considered a suitable candidate to be a French Princess without being so? I do wonder what she looks like, although I’m certain she must be lovely. It will certainly be interesting to have someone so exotic become part of the Royal Family”.

She smiled politely at Bella and gestured down the hallway. “Well I had best be on my way to prepare for dinner. It was lovely to spend time with you today Comtesse, thank you for the company”. She continued the bright smile, even though it was rather difficult to say what she had just said with a straight face. But she was nothing if not polite to everyone, even pretentious social climbing twits like Bella. "We shall have to pick another day to go exploring some more together, we hardly got to see anything. Although what we did see was lovely".


(((OOC: Thanks Alissa! Little Charles is actually just Marie-Elisabeth aged down, given his dad’s eyes/skin, and turned into a boy! LOL Her and old Charles….well let’s just say their CAS children didn’t turn out so pretty ;) coughsuperdperfugtasticcough

And feel free to have Bella leave now if you want :P

Oh, and my cousin had a girl!!! We’re really excited; it’s been all boys in my family lately)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine and César - The Corridors

All around them, the Palace breathed with life, resonating with the sound of footsteps, rustling garments and an amalgam of voices. Courtiers passed by, offering nods and brief greetings to the Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, judging by what scraps of conversation Joséphine had been able to catch, bound for the Grand Dining room. The sun had long since abandoned the zenith, slinking towards the edge of the horizon as shadows crept across the hallways, stealing away the light. Soon, tiny flames were lit by the servants in each ornate candle holder and chandelier, casting their amber flickers across the length of the walls, reflected dully in the marble floors.

This reminded Joséphine just how hungry she was; many hours had passed since her breakfast consisting of bread and fruit early that morning, she and César having not descended to join the other Palace dwellers for lunch, too preoccupied with their conversation.

A conversation which was slowly approaching a dubious end, where neither participant wished to go beyond subtle allusions and hinted undertones, nor to admit defeat, César's strategy being a perfect illustration thereof.

"What I am saying, my dear", he said and drew Joséphine close so that when she gazed up at him, the first thing she noticed was a wide and most impish grin, "... is that when in bed with a beautiful woman, men don't seek to make conversation."

Never mind it had not been the question at all, nor what she was trying to say, Joséphine couldn't help but be genuinely amused by his comment. Shoulders tightening with suppressed giggling, when the Marquise raised her gaze, a hint of mischievousness also clearly visible in her eyes:

“Spoken from personal experience there, mon cher”, she said, thoroughly amused and touched César's nose with the tip of one finger, laughing lightly. This time she was referring to their own bedroom encounters, having decided to leave the more distressing matter of César's affairs behind, for a while at least. Disentangling herself from the embrace, the Marquise then coiled an arm around her husband's, glimpsing towards the staircase visible in the distance.

“I don't know about you, but I am absolutely famished, it would appear that once again time has flown past us. Would you like to join me for dinner? Perhaps Octavien and his fiancée are also there.”

[AtropaMandragora]

Octavien was playing a dangerous game. He knew he was, when alternating between making the observations of an insightful young man, and the frank, unmasked remarks of somewhat dull-witted one, risking to ruin the minor charade before it even had a chance to take off. He just couldn't help himself from pointing out parts of his own views and reasonings, of his many musings, these days often yearning for a bit of a philosophical conversation, that was not laced either with bunny trails of jokes and other distractions, as was often the case with César, or with that strange magnetism and slight discomfort that had appeared in various shapes between himself and Joséphine. It was a subtle wish, that seemed to sneak into his mind and his words, without him really being able to stop it, no matter if the timing was bad.
At the same time, what could be percieved as the observations of an insightful man, might also be percieved as a phrase learned and repeated by a simple and impressionable mind, an expression he might have heard someone else use, and thought it sounded wise, and thus adopted it as his own, as a way of coming across as being more intelligent than he 'really' was.

Although... Perhaps 'risky' was a better word for it, since the fact was he really didn't stand all that much to loose, even if Her Excellency did catch on to his slight chicanery. After all, what could she do? He would still be the Prince, regardless, and she could never be absolutely certain that what he showed her now wasn't his true self, unless he actually confessed otherwise. She could, of course, feel convinced anyway, and try to make his life difficult, as some kind of revenge. But there wouldn't be much in it for her, and all that she'd manage to do would be to drive him away from her, and have him avoid her. To a Prince, there were quite a few ways of doing that.

It would hardly be the ideal fundament of a successful marriage, however, to antagonize her, and after the fiasco the last one had turned into, despite promises and assurance, Octavien would much prefer one that was at least friendly. But... He couldn't help but feel that there was something in Her Excellency's eyes and in the way that she chose to respond to him that made him think she just might appreciate the talent of deception in a husband, or even a friend. Perhaps not when wielded against her personally, but with the many intrigues and powerplays of court and French nobility in general, only a fool would disregard the usefulness of such a quality. Often enough, it would prove to be far more potent than wealth, and even power.
And to Octavien himself, a woman with enough brains and deceptive skills not to flaunt her affairs by running around with a notorious womanizer in public and during the most suspicious of circumstances, would indeed be a step in the right direction. In that case, he would probably even prefer to be decieved, as he doubted he would care any more about Elena's possible affairs than he had about Adalita's, as long as they were handled discreetly.
Furthermore, he too could see the personal advantages of having a resourceful ally. Especially one favored by the King...

But, he was getting way ahead of things, thinking like that already. The two of them were not even married yet. This was their very first encounter, and so they both had alot left to learn about their soon to be spouse. Things - meaning their future - were still very much up in the air, and a first impression was hardly a reliable indicator for what their marriage would be like. If there would even be a marriage. Let's not forget that the union would not be made a reality until the ceremony itself was over. Many things could happen before then.

In the meantime, the game was still very much on. Even though in Elena's case, Octavien still wasn't sure if what he saw was a game or not. His attempt to draw some kind of reaction from her with his statement regarding his ancestry, had been a fairly successful one, in that he had indeed gotten a reaction. The thing was, while it had confirmed what he already suspected, it had offered little more information than that. Her answer - a very agreeable and diplomatic one, following the the initial surprise that was to be expected at a Prince's bluntness - had confirmed that she was an intelligent woman, who knew how to maneuver herself favourably in conversation, without giving too much away, of what was really going through her mind.

"As opposed to my own, illustrious lineage?" she had said, graciously avoiding to make a show, one way or another, of the fact that his question had perhaps not been of the most appropriate nature for such a formal setting, and after only minutes into their acquaintance. "I prefer to think that history will remember our deeds, not our ancestry."

An equally gracious reply, that was sure, and most likely meant, to please. The only problem was, Her Excellency and the workings of her mind were hardly the same thing as history. History was yet to be written, and her thoughts on his background would have been born the very moment she was informed of their engagement, if not sooner. Thus, a her answer had not really been an answer at all, though it still allowed a fairly intelligent man to read between the lines; either she was an exceptional actress, or she really did not mind too much. Either made sense, but the latter left the question of why. Considering her formidable lineage, which she herself had pointed out, one would think she would harbour some kind of aversion to marrying a man not born even a noble of the lowest ranks. But on the other hand, regardless of his rather modest background, he was still the Prince of the most glorious country in the civilized world, so maybe the advantages of marrying him overshadowed his 'faults'.

He did not reply, however, as a slight nod in acknowledgement of her congenial words was all he managed to offer, before a knock on the door brought their conversation to a temporary halt, as a pair of servants arrived, one of them inquiring where Her Excellency wished to dine this evening, while the other went on to add the warm glow of candles to the dimming light in the suite.

"Well", Elena began what Octavien had almost expected to be a 'confession' to being quite tired and wishing to remain in her suite, which would have had him soon excusing himself and taking his leave of her, but which surprisingly enough turned out to be quite the opposite; "I do believe some company during supper would be most welcome, as I have sat in this room long enough today. Would Your Majesty like to join me...?"

Meeting her gaze, Octavien found himself wondering. It seemed she was making an actual effort to get to know him, which would indicate that she did not find his company particularly boring or unpleasant, that there really did exist a breeding ground for friendship. But, bitter experience was not easily silenced, and he couldn't help but think that it would also be a way to observe and assess him further; something she might desire to do very much, had she indeed picked up on the small inconsistencies in his conduct. Of course, one did not necessarily exclude the other, but in the case of either or, the difference was striking.
Well, whichever would turn out to be the case, he would have a better chance of figuring it out if he did indeed accompany her, not to mention that he still did wish for a stimulating coversation; something she seemed most capable of providing him with, so far.

"It would be my honor", he thus said with a nod in acceptance.

Following that reply, he then stood, and in a grafecul motion offered her his hand in proper assistance, a gesture that brought to light that gentle, ever-present flow to his movements, almost remniscent of female grace. Though oddly enough, it had never made him seem feminine, but rather managed only to bring out his masculinity instead, a masculinity so very different from the vibrant virility of someone such as César, but still as potent.

"Though I do hope Your Excellency is not bothered by various displays of curiousity", he added with a slight smile, "for I suspect there are still many who have yet to catch their first glimspe of you, and are eager to do so."

[AtropaMandragora]

Much unlike his darling spouse, César de la Valliére was not a multi-tasker, nor did he have the perceptive mind span of one. Which would explain why while she had noted and even responded to greetings of courtiers passing by, César had failed to even notice their presence, completely engulfed by and focused on his pretty wife, and her injuries, at first, and then, once she had dismissed his worries, the playful path onto which he was steering the conversation. And, it would probably also explain why it was that he hadn't noticed Joséphine, nor Octavien, when he had been leaving the Palace to go riding with Marie-Elisabeth the previous day. In fact, throughout his career as a womanizer, there were few women that had been able to rightfully complain that while in his company, they did not have his full attention. It was most likely even one of the reason why he was so successful in his extramarital endevours, as well as most of his marital ones; when with a woman in whom he was truly interested, his attention tended to be focused on her and her alone, to the point where his interest would by far surpass another passion of his; food and, more importantly, wine. That is, until the target being lavished with his attention reminded him.

Melting into his embrace and glancing up at him with a mischievous smile that pretty much mirrored his own, Joséphine laughed softly while giving César's nose a light tap; a simple but lovingly playful gesture that drew a chuckle from his lips as well.

"Spoken from personal experience there, mon cher", she said, giving a reply of a nature which César felt he could neither deny nor confirm.

He did too make conversation while in bed with her, and some damned good and meaningful conversation too, if one was to ask him. But he couldn't very well point that out, as it would have him contradicting the point he himself had made seconds earlier. Nor could he deny that most such conversations did tend to end up the same way as every... non-conversation. So to speak. When in bed with Joséphine, he usually would end up with her in his arms. Or at the very least try to do so. Though in all fairness, Joséphine hadn't made a habit of rejecting him, so the times when his attempts remained only that, were thankfully few.

Before he got a chance to answer, however, Joséphine decided to change the subject, reminding him it was time for that other, previously mentioned passion; food.

"I don't know about you", she said, slipping out of his embrace in order to wrap an arm around his, and giving a meaning glance down the hall as she continued, "but I am absolutely famished, it would appear that once again time has flown past us. Would you like to join me for dinner? Perhaps Octavien and his fiancée are also there."

Ah, yes. Dinner. The word alone was enough to draw a congruent rumble from César's stomach. He really was quite hungry as well. And, even if he hadn't been and the food hadn't held much of an appeal to him, the second part of Joséphine's statement held an appeal of it's own; he too wished to see if Octavien and Her Excellency had made it to the Grand Dining Room. Partly because he wanted Joséphine to see Octavien's future wife, and partly because he himself wanted the chance to see how and if the 'happy couple' were getting along.

"Why, naturally, my dear", he said with a nod, and as he began escorting Joséphine towards the Grand Dining Room, added with a teasingly scolding smile; "Of course I'd like to join you. Honestly, Joséphine, sometimes I think you do not know me at all."

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Robyn, I figured I'd have Bella leave her alone for a while, if not, she'll see ME at the Dining Room ;)
Not the best thing I've ever written, but well...
And also, welcome Avara :))))

“Oh I’m sure she must be,” Marie-Elisabeth continued her relentless commentary as Bella accompanied her back to the place. Well, in all truth, if anything, Elena was charming. Except that was until she discovered that she had no use for you.

“How can one possibly be considered a suitable candidate to be a French Princess without being so? I do wonder what she looks like, although I’m certain she must be lovely. It will certainly be interesting to have someone so exotic become part of the Royal Family.”

And Bella simply smiled again. Marie-Elisabeth’s intellect was out to impress today, indeed. Now that one thinks about it, of course! Yes, it does make sense that the royal family wouldn’t choose someone frightening to the eye and endowed with the charms of a peasant to join their ranks. Then again, exactly how much say the King had in said choosing was a matter for debate.

“Well I had best be on my way to prepare for dinner. It was lovely to spend time with you today Comtesse, thank you for the company,” Marie-Elisabeth turned to Bella with a polite smile. Surely, the sarcasm in that was unmissable given what had transpired today and on Bella’s first day here. "We shall have to pick another day to go exploring some more together, we hardly got to see anything. Although what we did see was lovely.”

“Oh, it was,” Bella smiled back with added cordiality. And, just to show Marie-Elisabeth that Bella was no coward and other Comtesse had no way of truly getting to her, she continued. “I had a splendid time, too. We must visit the Orangery again.”

But only if you drag me in kicking and screaming.

With that, she retired to her chambers, realizing the she too had to prepare for dinner and that everyone would be present at the dining room. So, in a short while, Bella was ready to join them, making her way towards the Grand Dining room.

(((Approachable)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Welcome, Avara! She sounds lovely. One small thing however: she couldn't be a Marquise, women born in noble households back then only gained titles through marriage or if they somehow became the last surviving member of the household, or if they had a male child (and the husband had died), until that child became of age))

[Avara]

Rosaline made her way toward the Grand Dining room, after a young maid had informed her it was nearly dinner time and that all the other nobles would be there. Her first day here and she would have to meet them all at once. 'Hopefully I will not stick out like a sore thumb,' she thought to herself; she always had in Bayonne, what with her black hair and tan skin. Her parents thought her oblivious to the rumors that floated about, but she'd heard them all. Though at times, she often wondered the same as the gossipers had. It would certainly explain why her mother seemed to care little about her and favored Yvette, and also why their father doted on her instead. Such was the way in arranged marriages, she supposed, not all of them could learn to like or love one another.

One of the men at the door opened it for her once she reached the dining hall, motioning her to step inside. She smiled warmly, certainly a rare sight on the face of one with her title. Rosalina made a point to be friendly and courteous to everyone... unless they gave her reason not to be; if she truly was half Spanish, then it would explain her temper and vindictive streak when she felt wronged. Her eyes scanned over the partially empty tables, noticing a few people here and there talking amongst themselves. Rosa took a deep breath to quell her nerves and maintain her wits, she would no doubt need them all for the coming evening. And so, she simply waited for the others to claim their tables; she would claim a seat of her own after them, not wanting to choose someplace she should not be seated.

( OOC: She is approachable, if anyone feels like doing so. :) )

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Atropa - I hope this works?[/B]))


Octavien and Elena - Elena's Suite -->The Grand Dining Room


The element of surprise could prove a valuable asset in many a situation, if one had the presence of mind to foresee its uses. Great politicians were able to harness it in order to gain the upper hand in favour of an adversary; equally, in the hands of skilled strategists a bold, unexpected move could entirely overhaul the fate of a battle, becoming the difference between victory and defeat. Its uses were as varied as the inherent dangers, and on the grand scale of things as well as the small, such gambles easily backfired, raining down a host of unpleasant consequences on those involved. The trick was being able to predict as many outcomes as possible with good accuracy.

Elena Sánchez was of the belief that any well thought out plan had a grain of unpredictability in it, and that caution itself was not enough. After all, the great men and women of all times did not achieve the heights they had simply by playing it safe all the time. It took courage and an intuitive mind however to decide when the moment was ripe to introduce the element of surprise and when care was better employed instead; in the hands of a fool, it transformed into a pitfall.

The moment Octavien Lahance had set foot into her chambers, Elena's goal had primarily been assessment, figuring out, essentially, who the man was. That venture, despite having yielded a few interesting details, was far from conclusive and, as the light of day diminished and the shadows rose across the walls, time was running short. As such, when one of the servants bowed low and inquired about her dining preferences, Elena spotted a surprisingly simple solution: invite the Prince to dine together in a public setting where her chances of observing the true Octavien Lahance were improved. Had his true self been obfuscated by a façade, for whatever reason, when among his subjects, that mask would be harder to upkeep and thus might falter. After all, it was well known that the surest way of learning what a man was like was observing him in a situation with many variables -such as, in this case, a Prince dining among his subjects whose good will he most certainly wished to keep. Likewise, Elena was interested in seeing the way Octavien interacted with the rest of the Courtiers, knowing that a man's attitude towards his inferiors was far more revealing than the treatment he offered his equals. And thirdly, he was proving to be quite an interesting conversationalist.

"It would be my honor", Octavien replied and adopted a respectful position, arm held out for her to take, not that Elena had expected a refusal: it would have been unseemly for a gentleman to refuse accompanying a lady, and his future wife at that, to dinner. He moved with effortless grace, a subtle difference from the first time he had set foot through the door, a possible signal that he was becoming more comfortable in her presence. If true, that was a definite benefit.

"Though I do hope Your Excellency is not bother by various displays of curiosity", Octavien added with a smile, "for I suspect there are still many who have yet to catch their first glimpse of you, and are eager to do so."

In a rustle of taffeta, Elena rose to her feet, extending five bejewelled fingers that crept around the Prince's brocade sleeve, her arm following suit. An incipient smirk tugged at the right corner of her lips: it was good they were eager, for she wanted to be seen! As ever, her invitation to dinner had multiple purposes, another being a secondary entrance for herself, arm in arm with her future husband, a statement addressed to all who would be there to witness it that she had every intention of living up to her future title of Princess, one they had better accustom themselves to seeing.

“There is no need to concern yourself with that on my behalf, Majesty” she replied gallantly as they passed through the gilded doors together, that earlier smirk shifting into a rather pleased smile “I fully expect curiosity, it is human nature. Sometimes though, a touch of mystique can be a good thing. Not to mention entertaining.”

Leaving others wondering was something Elena enjoyed enormously: rumours abounded and speculation ran rampant, and yet as long as the masses were kept conveniently uninformed of the truth behind the gossip, they remained less of a danger. As long as one knew where to draw a line.

Several minutes later, the entrance to the Grand Dining Room emerged into view and the doors were respectfully opened for the Prince and his fiancée, allowing Elena her first glimpse of the interior: a vast and elegant salon buzzing with the collective murmurs of those gathered there, the inviting aromas of many varied dishes wafting from the tables. Chin raised, Elena's movements flowed with distinguished grace, as she perused the view keenly, donning a pleasant smile with a hint of satisfaction: it appeared quite a few courtiers were dining together tonight. For a few instants it became very quiet, and many gazes sought out the new arrivals with interest, while those nearby offered cordial greetings.

[Slytherin-Girl]

There had to be someone up there who liked Marie-Elisabeth today, she decided as she made her way down the halls and away from Bella, someone who liked her very much indeed. For more than one reason, the first of which being that she was no longer in the company of a certain much despised Comtesse. The second being that she had accomplished her mission of finding at least one spot where people were unlikely to go; and therefore a spot where anyone who did venture there was unlikely to be interrupted. And lastly, that her charade of being completely air headed and unknowledgeable had gone off without a hitch. She couldn’t help but giggle she was so pleased with that as she pushed the doors to her suite open and stepped inside. She was her mother’s daughter after all, perhaps more so in terms of personality than any of her other siblings. Except for her eldest brother Joseph, but he was so eerily like her mother that most swore they were twins born 24 years apart.

“Jeanne” she called to her ever-present maid, as she took her hat off and tossed it onto a nearby chair “Can you get someone to prepare my writing materials for me when I get back from dinner. I’m going to have Charles come to the palace for the wedding. And I need to write to Maman as well”. Jeanne popped in from the other room with a curtsy and nodded. “Of course Madame. It will be wonderful to have the little Master come for a visit, shall I get you a new dress for dinner as well?”.

Marie-Elisabeth nodded and smiled as she sat down at the vanity table to make sure her hair was still intact. "Of course Jeanne, thank you. I think I’d like to have the pink patterned one. I’m in the mood for something cheerful and pretty”. Jeanne nodded and went to do as requested while Marie-Elisabeth made a few minor adjustments to her hair. Jeanne was back with the requested dress (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/dress-1.jpg) soon enough, and Marie-Elisabeth quickly changed into it.

“There we are, all finished Madame” said Jeanne, putting the new pair of matching shoes down on the floor “You look lovely. And your writing things are on the desk in the main room for when you get back”. “Thank you Jeanne, you can go now” she replied, slipping into her shoes and admiring her reflection “I don’t know what I would ever do without you”. “Most likely go mad Madame” she said, smiling as she left the room “You’ve said so often enough”.

Marie-Elisabeth chuckled at the truth of the statement as she walked across the room and exited the doors, making her way down the hallways to the dining room. There were more people than usual present, most likely due to curiosity about their future Princess. Which of course Marie-Elisabeth shared in, she was very interested to see what kind of person she turned out to be. So she decided to sit down and wait, while having something to eat of course as she really was quite hungry.

Fortunately she didn’t have to wait very long as the Prince and soon to be Princess made their way into the room moments after she sat down. Marie-Elisabeth could immediately see that she wouldn’t be considered pretty in the traditional French sense, not having the pale complexion, light hair, and light eyes that were widely admired and desired among court ladies. But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t attractive. Marie-Elisabeth could already anticipate that her darker, more exotic looks would make her stand out from everyone else. Which of course was made obvious by the fact that every single person present had turned toward her as soon as she entered the room, with the hushed silence that followed soon breaking out into dozens of quietly whispered conversations about the new arrival. She herself chose merely to keep quiet an observe everyone else, while sipping from the glass of wine she had on the table.




(((OOC: Holy crap long winded and ridiculous *smacks self* But is approachable if anyone’s bored :P Oh and MY reaction to Elena would probably be verry different that ME's aka I'd run far far away :P I also meant the whole stand out thing kinda like how Anne Boleyn stood out because she wasn't like all the other pale skinned/light haired ladies in court. I think that makes sense now...sort of

And I’ll pretend Charles stays in the room in the corner when he comes if that’s ok. Since it’s the only one next to ME’s, other than her bestest pal ever’s room on the other side *snicker*)))

[AtropaMandragora]

It had been some time since Octavien had dined with the other courtiers in the Grand Dining Room. Truthfully, he couldn't even recall a single time, since the splendid festivities following the wedding between himself and Adalita. For one reason or another, be it his own need for solitude, the 'harpsichord lessons' with Queen Isabella, or as of late, the royal family favoring privacy as part of their mourning process - dinner had often been ingested someplace other than with the rest of the members at court. While he hadn't missed it at the time, the moment Elena invited him to join her for supper, he realized that in a way, he had actually longed for it. There was a part of him, a big part, that had always thouroughly enjoyed socializing, and even though it had recently been buried under what felt like many and heavy layers of pure concrete - bitterness, disappointment, betrayal, to name a few - it had begun to surface yet again, starting around the arrival of the small de la Valliére family. César, as always, had made it quite impossible to stay cooped up in a suite, no matter how beautiful and comfortable it was, and Joséphine had done her part as well to liven thing up. In fact, she was probably more responsible for Octavien's blossoming mood and enthusiasm, than her husband was. Not to say that César hadn't played his part, and masterly so, what with the minor drinking binge in Octavien's suite only hours after he and Joséphine had arrived at court and all, but it was Joséphine's actions that had had her and César join Octavien and Bella at their outing to the theatre the other night, and it was her that had been climbing trees and getting herself into trouble, thus forcing Octavien's usual self to re-surface and come to her rescue.

Therefore, the decision to join Elena, his future wife and Princess, for dinner in the Grand Dining Room, was one easily made. And hopefully, César and Joséphine would be there, or Bella, if not all three of them, and he could introduce her to them. For while he had started out not feeling particularly interested in having anything more to do with Elena than was absolutely necessary, he had to admit he was starting to warm up to her. A little bit. She had not nearly fulfilled any of his fears - at least not yet - but instead proven herself to be quite agreeable to be around, and an entertaining conversationalist, in that she cut short the cordial but so very tedious bullsh*t, first chance she got. That alone earned her a notch in the right direction.

Now, joining the others did of course mean the stakes in the game his was playing, and would continue to play for a while yet, would be somewhat higher, but be that as it may. Despite her so far very amiable ways, he had not forgotten that there could easily be ulterior motives hiding behind it all, nor had he forgotten that seemingly devious gleam he had hinted ever so briefly in her eyes. More people around meant more distractions, and while it meant a growing challenge to Octavien, to keep Elena from realizing he was holding back, it also meant that her chances of noticing any possible slips in his demeanor, would be rather limited. For surely, she couldn't keep her attention focused solely on him, with a room full of people that would wish to meet and greet her, or at the very least make eye contact so that they could give a nod to acknowledge her presence and rank, until they had the chance to be properly introduced.

Gliding through the doors together, Elena still on Octavien's arm, and stopping just beyond the threshold, the couple, although as different in appearance as night and day, with Octavien's blonde hair and fair complextion to Elena's exotic looks of raven tresses in an elaborate coiffure, and her soft olive skin, were joined by their mutual display of elegance, the two of them seeming like the essence of youthful royalty personified. Within moments of their appearance, silence spread throughout the grandiose room, long before the footman had even announced their presence.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Octavien, and Her Exellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre", the middle-aged man's voice boomed from beside the door, causing the last few unobservant courtiers to turn their heads and behold the new arrivals.

The initial silence was then broken by the hushed sound of a whisper, soon joined by another, and another, as Octavien escorted Elena towards the slightly elevated short end of the U-shaped banquet table (http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2242/1584944113_1552cc7918.jpg?v=0) where they took their royal seats next to one another, overlooking the rest of the room and the courtiers in it.

"I hope you will find the delicacies of our French cuisine to be to your liking", Octavien said with a faint smile as they began their meal, figuring that while Elena had most likely already tasted samples of it on her journey to the Palace, well-wishes had never hurt anyone. "Though I do believe it tends to be somewhat less seasoned than the Spanish one."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the footman's voice rang out again, this time announcing the arrival of none other than two of the people Octavien had hoped to see join them all; the Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan. César and Joséphine.

"Well, would you look at that", César grinned at Joséphine, but keeping his eyes directed at Octavien and Elena, noticing the small gesture made by the former, welcoming husband and wife to join the soon-to-be husband and wife. "Look who has indeed come out of hiding. And brought his lovely betrothed with him as well."

As they started making their way towards their friend and Prince, and the future Princess, they could see him turning to her and saying something, most likely explaining who the approaching couple were to him, and how he would like to introduce them to Elena, as well as quite possibly have them join for the actual meal.

Thus, when the young Marquis and Marquise finally reached the table, Octavien stood to greet them both, Joséphine with a proper kiss on the hand, and César with a less formal gesture of inclining his head.

"Your Excellency", he then said, turning back to Elena. "These are two of my dearest friends, César de la Valliére, and his lovely wife Joséphine. César, Joséphine, Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, daughter of the illustrious Duque de Suárez y Torre."

Having spent the majority of the last couple of seconds, since arriving at the royal end of the table, gazing at Elena with a mix of curiousity and open appreciation of what he saw, César gave a deep bow.

"Ah, so it is this lovely lady who is to be our future Princess", he said with a smile. "Had I been aware Spain held such beauty, I would have travelled there a long time ago. Now, I believe I shall have to make a point to rectify such negligence."

With that, he moved on to plant a feathery kiss softly upon Elena's knuckles.

"Enchanté, Your Excellency", he greeted her officially, and more properly. "Allow me to wish you welcome to the splendor that is our court."

In the meantime, Octavien on the other hand was trying hard to resist the urge to roll his eyes for the second time, having almost failed the first, when César, true to his usual self, started flirting even before the official greetings were over. Even though it was the kind of polite, harmless flirting, obviously filled with flattery but no real intent towards anything more, as was always the case when Joséphine was around.
Though truth be told, Octavien was quite relieved to have César there, and he had to try just as hard to suppress a smile as he was trying to resist the eyeroll, thinking mirthfully to himself; 'Well, that should keep her occupied!'



(((ooc: Ghanima - Hope this is ok? I know I didn't let you post Joséphine first, but I figured there is lots of room to squeeze in any reply she might have to César's comment, in case you had one planned. :) Also, Octavien's introduction might not be 100% correct, but if that is the case, it's my fault rather than Octavien's. ;) It's meant to be correct, but not in a particularly uptight way. *s* )))

[Alissa888]

Finally at the Grand Dining room now, Bella had hesitated in her entry. Mainly it was because Octavien and Elena were approaching and she’d rather avoid being introduced to Elena by Octavien, a ridiculous affair seeing is if anyone should be introducing anyone to anyone, it was Bella introducing Elena to Octavien. Well, apparently there was no need for that as her Excellency, it appeared, had already made a pleasant impression on her future husband.

Finally allowing other courtiers to follow after the hush that was consequent of Elena’s introduction, Bella saw fit to enter the room herself. Ah, except one problem, standing at the doorway, she noticed that there was a seat available next to none other than dearest Marie-Elisabeth. Oh, no, one morning and one afternoon of a day with this woman was more than enough, she was not going to subject herself to further. However, before she could say anything to halt the footman in his announcement of her entry with some excuse as ‘Oh, pardon me, I’ve forgotten my… shoes’ or such ludicrous intervention, he’d already managed to bellow out:

“Comtesse Isabella Devine.”

Fantastic.

Now, her name had been announced and she had already noticed Marie-Elisabeth and therefore could not exactly wander off to befriend some other courtier. No, that would be accepting defeat. She’d sit next to Marie-Elisabeth through dinner and she’d make small talk. Yes. It was possible, it was doable, and it was a good mental exercise before Elena demanded a meeting with her.

Therefore, donning a pleasant smile, she made her way, leisurely and gracefully – secretly wanting to turn around and march off – towards Marie-Elisabeth, a look of pleasant surprise claiming her features. It was like walking to one’s own execution.

“Why, Comtesse,” she breathed out upon reaching Marie-Elisabeth. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

Yes, and I missed you so…. No, not really.

With that, she effortlessly slid into the chair beside the other Comtesse, determined to deal with the situation better than Marie-Elisabeth.

(((OOC: Hope this works for you, Robyn)))

[paintedgrey78]

The sky was getting dark and the moon would slowly begin to rise; complete darkness was just around the corner. Soon it would be night. So Adele understood when the Baron chose to head to dinner, instead of sitting down and watching the moon come into view. "I'd be delighted to, but it looks like it will be getting dark soon. I had been planning on going to dinner around now. If you would like to accompany me, you are welcome to.” Nodding her head he then added a few words, which caused her to question her knowledge about common courtesy. “The choice is yours.” Immediately her expression became somewhat content, and she forced a smile towards him. “Of course I’d love to join you,” she replied, as she turned to look towards the palace.

Her eyes couldn’t help but show her frustration and embarrassment. Yet she knew all along that she couldn’t carry a decent conversation without showing her lack of etiquette. The whole time she felt as if she were a fish out of water, as if she didn’t belong. She’d be surprised if the Baron couldn’t sense that she had no grasp of the concept of proper courtesy. But he probably knew that already. Rising from the bench she strolled down to the Great Dining Room, hoping that the food would relieve her of the everlasting exhaustion she was feeling. She needed something, anything that would give her energy so she would have a small chance of making it the rest of the evening without collapsing.

Upon entering Adele gave one brief scan of the Dining Room before she even bothered seating herself. There was quite a few who had already arrived, making her feel a bit uneasy. So many unfamiliar faces, she thought, as she sat down a few seats away from everyone. Isolation - oh how comforting it was. She didn’t mind whether Baron Larkin sat with her or not; she had no intention of talking to anyone. She would rather save herself the embarrassment. As her eyes darted around the room, she glanced at the others who were seated a short distance away from her. Adele did not care whether they chose to think of her as a loner. Yet if they thought any less of her because of it, they would certainly be getting and earful.

Her content expression had faded, and was replaced with a saddened look. What in the world am I doing here? I don’t belong. She was right, she didn’t belong. But it was not her fault, not the slightest. Being with her father she never knew of a place where everyone was polite and reserved. She grew up in a much different social environment, where everyone was outspoken. If someone did not like you, they would tell you.

Stepmother, she thought.

Immediately narrowing her eyes, Adele frowned at the thought of her stepmother. She certainly didn’t take kindly to her, and neither did her stepmother. A wretched woman she was – no, she was a foul disgusting pig. No intelligence, no sense of direction; she was a slut who completely ruined whatever relationship she and her father had left. She had no respect for that woman, not an ounce. If it were her choice, she would have never been part of the family. The twenty-two year old wouldn’t even call it that.

Her eyes wandered over to the opposite end of the room, as she tried to block those unnerving those out of her head. Quickly she glanced over at the others; some were in two’s or three’s, but it didn’t matter really. She knew that if she tried to pretend she wanted to talk to the others, they would see right through it. Sighing she rested back in her chair, wishing that she was back in her room reading a book. She had the feeling this was going to be a long dinner.

[Avara]

Rosaline seemed a little out of place, even though she was a born noble through and through. The court of Bayonne was not nearly this large and there was no royalty either; Prince Octavien caught her eye when he was announced by the footman. She had heard that he was not born into this life, but his handsome features were enough to make even Rosaline second guess the truth of that statement. However, there were many handsome men among the lower classes in society... Rosaline secretly loved to indulge in watching the soldiers spar, of course hidden from their view to watch them, if they so desired, remove their tunics during practice. The thought brought a blush to her cheeks: she hadn't done that in quite some time, but the memory of their muscle hardened bodies gleaming under the sun from persperation...

Focus, Rosaline, focus! She shook her head, glancing around to make sure no one had been watching her be engulfed in one of her girlish fantasies. Perhaps it was foolish of her to still dream of a dashing knight in shining armour coming from afar just to seek her hand in marriage, when the reality of it was her hand was sought by old noblemen. Old, fat, balding, greedy noblemen; well... most of the time. Some of them were younger, some attractive, but in her heart she desired a warrior. A fighter. An adventurous man who was not afraid to be a knight or a soldier; such a man was almost non-existant within the courts, and if one was there he was usually already wed. Sighing heavily, Rosaline closed her eyes for another moment.

"Marquise Rosaline Toussaint of Bayonne!"

The bellow of the footman caused her to jump, placing a hand to her chest from the surprise. Well, so much for going unnoticed until everyone else was seated. She shot the man an annoyed look, to which he only gave her a vaguely amused smirk before going on to announce the next entering noble. As her name was new to the courts, everyone turned and looked at her near immediately. Already she could imagine what they were whispering amongst each other, "That is the Marquise who is rumored to be half Spanish, a mixed blood. Look at her!" Let them gossip, what they said didn't matter in the end since they could not prove the claims and openly accusing her of being such would be a huge folly on their part. Holding her chin high, shoulders back and posture straight, she gracefully strode toward the large dining table. Her eyes fell upon Elena on approach and widened slightly, it was not often she saw another woman with near the same exotic features as her. This was the Spanish woman, the woman that might possibly be the prince's future wife; if the courts weren't already whispering about the likelihood of Rosa's mixed blood, she was sure they were now.

Rosaline put such ideas from her mind as she reached the couple, drawing up on the hem of her dress slightly as she performed a curtsy before them. "It is an honor to meet you and to be allowed among your court, your Excellency," she said to Octavien with a smile, finally lifting her gaze to regard the prince with sapphire eyes fringed by thick lashes. Turning then to Elena, she curtsied to her as well with the same benevolent smile. "And it is an honor to finally meet you as well, your Grace."

Once standing again, she bowed her head and looked at the two. She would wait for them to dismiss her with some kind of word or motion, not wanting to walk away and risk offending one or both.

( OOC: Atropa & Ghanima - Hope that this works for you guys, but let me know if it doesn't. :) )

[Slytherin-Girl]

Watching people often proved both to be an excellent source of amusement and a valuable tool for Marie-Elisabeth. She had so far watched an unfamiliar young woman, with similar dark looks to their soon to be princess, enter the dining room and stand around looking a bit lost before going and introducing herself to the royal couple. “She must be new around here” Marie-Elisabeth thought as she sipped her drink “I've never seen her before”.

She had momentarily entertained the idea of going over and doing the same herself, but decided against it for 2 reasons. The first being that she had not even been formally introduced to the Prince yet, so there was just no way she would go over to tem without that happening first. The second and perhaps more vital reason being the other man in the Prince’s company, or more importantly his wife. Marie-Elisabeth was of course, by her own admission, not one who shied away from difficult situations. But she didn’t see the point in going over and making what was already a delicate situation worse. So she merely continued watching them for a while, admittedly rather enjoying the scenery and fiddling with the bracelet around her wrist. She was also mentally composing the letters she was going to write after dinner, seeing as there was no sense in wasting precious hours of beauty sleep staying up and writing.

However, her pleasant view was soon altered by the appearance of one of the absolute last people she wanted to see, who took it upon herself to come over and sit right next to her. “By all the saints and martyrs” she groaned mentally “You really must be trying to test my patience today”.

“Why, Comtesse” her companion said after sitting down “What a pleasure to see you again.” Marie-Elisabeth smiled and matched the pleasant tone, setting her drink down on the table. “A pleasure indeed” she said, glancing back over at the Royal Couple “It appears as though our future Princess decided to join us for dinner after all. They make a lovely pair don’t they”?


(((OOC: I used Marie-Elisabeth as the controllable sim in an asylum Challenge I'm doing, as you might've seen if you poke round the picture threads. There's only 2 other sims besides her still alive, the infamous Pirate and HP's self sim. Well that and ME and Pirate's ACR induced baby girl, Antoinette. But anyway, next I'm thinking I'll do one with ALL Viper's Nest Characters *evil grin* With ACR on I'm sure it'll be awesome)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena /w Octavien, Joséphine, César and Rosaline - Grand Dining Room

Elena Sánchez had dined among royalty before, having accompanied her father several times to the Spanish court where the family of Suárez y Torre was always welcome, hence she was well accustomed to the sights: lavish furnishings, men and women in finery and each carrying a resounding title to their names, including the Monarch himself and his family. However it was the first time that she walked into such a place arm in arm with a Prince, knowing she would soon become part of France's royalty – as such, when hers and Octavien's names were announced by the footman and every pair of eyes were turned in their direction, Elena could not keep a hint of pure satisfaction from emerging in her glittering, scouring gaze and a slight smile formed on her lips. All in all, it had been a successful day, even more so than she had dared to hope: two grand entrances and a surprisingly captivating encounter with her future husband who, if she was not mistaken, and Elena rarely was, had shed some of his initial wariness towards her.

True to the description she had received from her father, King Edouard was absent, as was his Queen in circumstances Elena had yet to fully investigate, which left the centre seats vacant for her and Octavien to use. Wearing the role like a silken glove, Elena manoeuvred herself into the seat with every bit of grace she could muster with Octavien's gentlemanly help, offering greetings to those that approached, always with that thin, unfathomable smile that she assumed almost out of habit, the sort that looked pleasant but revealed nothing. At last, all present courtiers were seated and already digging into the various dishes that had been prepared for that evening, Elena preparing to do the same when her fiancé leaned slightly in her direction and spoke:

"I hope you will find the delicacies of our French cuisine to be to your liking. Though I do believe it tends to be somewhat less seasoned than the Spanish one."

Elena was in fact something of a gourmet: she enjoyed sampling dishes from all over the world, often asking the house staff to procure new recipes for her delectation. French cuisine was often featured at the Sánchez estate, although she did look forward to sampling it “a la carte”.

“That is true,” she replied as she transferred part of an aromatic poultry dish to her plate, “but believe me, even us Spaniards sometimes tire of the condiments, and French cuisine is well known as being balanced as well as pleasant to the taste. Mmm,” she added after tasting a morsel “quite lovely indeed.”

In the meantime, several more people had been announced inside, one particular name catching Elena's attention for a moment: Comtesse Isabella Devine. Sipping a glass of wine, she watched Bella glide over to the table and take her seat next to a blond woman, making a mental note to arrange a meeting as soon as possible, preferably before the wedding. She would need to summon Juanita and hand her a few errands to run...a thought interrupted by Octavien, who motioned towards an approaching pair: apparently, two of his good friends. Well, that certainly added an extra piece to the puzzle, for a man's friends often said much about the man himself.

"Your Excellency", Octavien said, following a brief greeting. "These are two of my dearest friends, César de la Valliére, and his lovely wife Joséphine. César, Joséphine, Her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, daughter of the illustrious Duque de Suárez y Torre."

Nodding gallantly to them both, Elena shifted her incisive gaze from one face to another in appraisal: they were both young, probably about the same age as Octavien himself; the Marquis, César, returned the gaze, making no secret of his study of her, or the interest in what he saw . His wife appeared more reserved- almost shy, Elena would say – though she could have been simply reserved.

"Ah, so it is this lovely lady who is to be our future Princess", the Marquis said with a dazzling smile. "Had I been aware Spain held such beauty, I would have travelled there a long time ago. Now, I believe I shall have to make a point to rectify such negligence."

Ah, flattery! It was said to be the ticket to anywhere one wished to go, except when that somewhere happened to be Elena Sánchez. That was not to say she did not enjoy compliments, as reflected in the widening smile she offered the Marquis in return for his polite yet not altogether formal comment. Certainly, César de la Vallière enjoyed a bold move, and carried himself with a sort of unabashed, though dignified charm that Elena had seen in men before, the sort that most women seemed to find irresistible. She wondered just how many ladies of the Court shared that opinion concerning the young Marquis; stealing a glance at Joséphine, his wife, Elena thought she saw her smile falter if only momentarily.

"Enchanté, Your Excellency", César added more formally "Allow me to wish you welcome to the splendor that is our court."

“Enchantée, Marquis, Marquise” Elena responded courteously, “and thank you for your gracious welcome, it is my pleasure and honour to be here. Indeed, French hospitality has lived up to its renown. I hope one day you will be our guests in Spain and that I may return the favour.”

More small talk and protocol ensued, as César occupied the seat next to her, the Marquise being seated on Octavien's left side. Not long after, a young brunette whose features reminded Elena of her homeland approached and executed a curtsy before them:

"It is an honor to meet you and to be allowed among your court, your Excellency. And it is an honor to finally meet you as well, your Grace."

“I am equally honoured, ah, Marquise” Elena told her with a slow nod, hesitating an instant as she strove to recall the name announced at the young woman's arrival, remembering only the title. Guessing by her comment she was a newcomer, she added: “And I hope your stay will prove a pleasant one.”

Elena wasted no time in assuming the posture of her soon to be role as Princess.


((ooc: I hope this works for everyone, I know she doesn't actually say much but with all the greetings and welcomes I had to cover I don't honestly think there was time for deeper conversation :P))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Avara I really hate to be picky, but did you say that Rosaline's sister married a comte in Normandy? Cause [and correct me if my knowledge of British history is lacking] hasn't Normandy been an English province since the days of William the Conqueror (1066 and change?). It seems to me that as desireable a match as you described Yvette and Rosaline to be would be able to land Frenchmen, or if they/she didn't that Rosaline would have a strong enough opinion on the subject to merit mention in her bio. Just saying. And also, if you are going to stick with Normandy, the British title at the time would be in English, not French, so duke.))

Larkin, unlike a great majority of people at court, had very few ulterior motives. He did greatly desire land, but he was perfectly content without it, given the appreciable size of his barony and the fact he took no interest whatsoever in doing things with the land, beyond vague orders that his steward was welcome to, and frequently did ignore. He did not seek out greater titles, as that would place far too much responsibility on his shoulders- a baron was able to clumsily flirt with noblewomen, freely take advantage of peasants, and in general act according to no rules but his own. As for influence without title, he already had it, being a far branch of the royal family. So, in a manner that oftimes discombobulated people, he did things that gained him nothing. When Larkin d'Marius extended a dinner invitation, it was only that, a request to share food and company.

So Larkin was pleased when his companion simply nodded her head and rose to follow him to the dining room. His pleasure did not stop him from releasing the oh-so subtle rejoinder that slid from his lips, but his general unconcern for the further reaching consequences of most of his actions- taking anything Larkin valued would require going through the Duc d'Margoles, and not even the king could do that quickly- did not make much note of it. Until Baroness Adele's face fell as though he had delivered a whip crack to her face, rather than a slightly ill thought out reprimand to a behavior that wasn't all that bad. It was not that her expression wavered overmuch, but it went from something that seemed sincere, and mayhaps even somewhat flattered, to a contented facade. Still cheerful, but glassy.

“Of course I’d love to join you,” she said, her voice soft. Larkin knew full well then that that line was only a courtesy, her body language was about as coldly dismissive as a noble woman could get without actually saying "Leave. Now." with any number of accompanying expletives based on class and history. Glassily content expression, head turned aside towards her destination as opposed to her companion, and a sharp flicker in her eyes that Larkin couldn't quite interpret. Whatever it was did not bode well for him should he not take the hint she was kindly handing him on a platter. Then again, Larkin was hungry, they were going to the same place, and her words had not directly asked him to leave her be. Normally Larkin would take the hint, but he had started going insane at social conventions.

Hence why he followed her to the dining room a few paces behind, close enough to help if she decided to pass out, far enough away that if she did get extremely and violently upset he would have enough warning to get away. Most noblemen did not deal with noblewomen that would actually resort to violence, but then again, Larkin was not most noblemen, and if something unpleasant happened once he would do his best to avoid the situation which bred said unpleasant event. Such as having a kneecap dislocated and bruised by a woman he had offended. She had been fun... Larkin couldn't help but let out a tiny grin, but remembering precisely where he was and who with, he stifled it and followed attentively behind the Baroness.

They arrived at the dining hall without incident. Astoundingly little incident. The doorman did not announce either of them. Larkin could understand why he wouldn't be announced, a moderately plainly dressed, slightly older man, following two paces behind someone who was clearly a noblewoman. But Adele should have been announced, and Larkin idly contemplated getting offended on her behalf, but quickly rejected the idea as both too much trouble and probably fruitless.

He gallantly stepped in front of her to offer her a chair at a small table near another group of people, a pair of younger men who had probably spent their afternoon drinking if their slightly flushed faces and jerky motions were anything to go on. He was slightly discombobulated to find that Adele completely ignored him and went to a table separated by three empty tables in all directions. "Damn, she must be upset at me" Larkin thought gloomily. Never for a moment did it occur to him that she might be upset over something else entirely than his little barb in the courtyard.

She had ceased to maintain her glazedly content expression and it was replaced by one much easier to interpret- sadness. Why would she be sad about what he said? Maybe there were more issues in Baroness Adele's life than slightly tactless barons. Those complicated issues she had mentioned earlier? He seriously contemplated prying a bit, if what he had said had merely triggered something rather than causing it independently, then she would be slightly vulnerable. He might not even have to bother Ambrose to find out what her problem was. Just as Larkin had made up his mind to "be supportive" Adele's eyes narrowed. Anger again? Larkin attempted not to let it perturb him, he had already made his decision. He would just step much more warily.

He turned around carefully and asked a passing waiter to bring two glasses of good wine. The man glanced over at Adele and raised his eyebrows in something akin to amusement, but Larkin did not dignify the servants behavior with a response. Adele had slouched back into her chair by the time Larkin returned with the wine and was sending off clear signals that she would rather be anywhere else.

He gently placed the glass of wine in front of her, and said, as soothingly as he could manage, "You sure you're going to be alright? I've been told a day in my company is a long day." He flashed a real smile out her, one that had gotten many many peasant women to ahh... do laundry for him, but let it subside quickly. He was trying to be kind, not pick her up. As of now at least.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Everyone, it is now Morning (I'll post announcements shortly)))

[Avara]

((OOC: Avara I really hate to be picky, but did you say that Rosaline's sister married a comte in Normandy? Cause [and correct me if my knowledge of British history is lacking] hasn't Normandy been an English province since the days of William the Conqueror (1066 and change?). It seems to me that as desireable a match as you described Yvette and Rosaline to be would be able to land Frenchmen, or if they/she didn't that Rosaline would have a strong enough opinion on the subject to merit mention in her bio. Just saying. And also, if you are going to stick with Normandy, the British title at the time would be in English, not French, so duke.))
( OOC: Copied directly from Wikipedia's page on Normandy.

"In 1204, during the reign of King John of England, mainland Normandy was taken from England by France under Philip II of France while insular Normandy (the Channel Islands) remained under English control. In 1259, Henry III of England recognized the legality of French possession of mainland Normandy under the Treaty of Paris."

So basically, Normandy belonged to France from 1204 and on long after. And the reason I put Yvette in there and her marriage is to illustrate the fact that she was not as desirable as Rosaline. :P Thus why her father married Yvette off to the first man who asked, lol. )

[Ghanima Atreides]

-Morning Announcements-

You awake to find a beautifully ornate card awaiting on the desk. When opened, you realize it contains an invitation to a most joyous of events: the wedding ceremony between Prince Octavien Lahance and Elena Sánchez of Spain.

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


The card reads as follows:

Cher Monsieur/Madame,

You are cordially invited to attend the festivities organized in honor of the wedding between His Majesty Prince Octavien Lahance and her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, which will take place tomorrow at the Palace of Light and Air.

(The ceremony is scheduled to be held in the East side gardens, continuing with the banquet organized in the Great Dining Hall.)

We are looking forward to your presence during this most joyous of events marking the union of our lives.

Respectfully yours,
[signatures follow]

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Ooooh how pretty :) I'll edit this with a post later, I have a whole bunch of running around to do today. But I did wat to ask you guys (Atropa and Ghanima) where you got the hairs that are on the sims of Jo, Cesar, and Elena. They're packaged with Maxis and I wanted to get them exact for my...project ;) )))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc - slytherin - César's is Peggy, I think, and Elena's is Rose... And I think Jo's is too... But anyway, I recently decided to include all such items on the sims, so new versions will be available shortly. :) )))

[paintedgrey78]

Adele’s eyes adverted over to the Baron, who was holding two wine glasses in his each of his hands. She would need some if she was ever to survive the night. He placed it down in front of her and she thanked him graciously, taking a quick sip. She was tempted to swallow it all in one gulp; it had been quite a while since she’d had such tasteful wine before. Yet she wouldn’t dare try such a thing. She knew that as soon as she finished the first glass she would have another, and another, until she was completely intoxicated. She had no desire to make a fool of herself. One glass wouldn’t do much harm, but two or three? She wasn’t planning on drinking that much anyway.

Why did he decide to join me? Immediately she felt a slight tinge of curiosity, wondering why on earth he would bother to stay and talk to her. Was it out of pity? Surely he didn’t feel sorry for her. There was nothing to be sorry about; nothing which she told him, of course. But there was the possibility that he felt as if he did something wrong and was trying to make up for it. Yet she didn’t think that could be the reason. She wasn’t upset at him but instead at herself, and her lack of preparedness. Adele felt as if she had been thrown into a new environment, where their social graces were completely different from her own. It was going to be a long road if she continued living here, but she felt it needed to be done. She would not become a drunken old fool like her father. If anything, she was determined to be a graceful young lady, no matter how difficult it may be.

“You sure you’re going to be alright? I’ve been told a day in my company is a long day,” the Baron said, giving a genuine smile. She quickly looked towards him, allowing the corners of her mouth to move upwards. A few more glasses of wine and I will be, she thought. Bringing her lips to the glass once more she felt the wine trickle down her throat, bringing her at ease. When she brought the glass back down to the table she realized she had drank a little over half, and sighed quietly. “At least I didn’t consume it all,” she muttered. Looking towards Larkin she smiled.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. “Really I will. And I greatly enjoyed your company.” Quickly she drank the last bit of her wine, savoring it until the last drop. Tasty it was; so tasty in fact, that she wanted another. But she forced herself to do otherwise. What would people say about her if she had too many? She looked towards the Baron, trying to figure out what was going on with him. He didn’t still think she was upset with him, did he? “I know that I’m not in the brightest of moods at the moment, but I truly did mean what I said,” Adele added, hoping it would reassure him. “Talking to you has been the most conversation I’ve had in days.” She gave him another smile, hoping he would understand that he did nothing wrong.

“So I thank you.”

Gazing towards the opposite end of the room Adele rose from her seat. “It’s getting late, and I should be getting back.” She began to leave, but quickly stopped herself and turned back around. “I do hope to see you again, Baron Larkin.” With that she pushed in the chair, and swiftly made her way back towards the doors, not bothering to look back as she turned the corner. Rest; right now, that’s what she needed the most.

____________________

Shifting slightly in her bed, Adele slowly opened her eyes to the new day that had come. Her head rested in the assorted pillows that lay about the bed, and she smiled. A new day meant a new start for the young twenty-two year old. Her hands moved slowly to the edge of her sheets and she pulled them back, slowly rising to her feet. Taking a few seconds to allow her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room, she sighed quietly, gazing around her suite. Adele’s soft, blue eyes landed on her desk where a letter lay. Eyeing it she walked over, noticing the beautiful detail of it:

Cher Monsieur/Madame,

You are cordially invited to attend the festivities organized in honor of the wedding between His Majesty Prince Octavien Lahance and her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, which will take place tomorrow at the Palace of Light and Air.

(The ceremony is scheduled to be held in the East side gardens, continuing with the banquet organized in the Great Dining Hall.)

We are looking forward to your presence during this most joyous of events marking the union of our lives.

Respectfully yours,
[signatures follow]

Adele was surprised that the wedding was so soon. “A bit soon, isn’t it?” she said aloud. They barely had a chance to meet one another, let alone get married. Yet as long as they loved each other it didn’t matter. It would be nearly impossible to love someone when you have only met yesterday, but she thought nothing more of it. It had nothing to do with her anyhow; she had no right be making accusations. But she wondered whether or not their marriage would end in happiness or destruction. Placing the letter back on her desk Adele took the time to change into her dress and brush her hair, which was completely entangled in knots. Though she was wincing in pain the young girl continued to comb through it, brush stroke after brush stroke. Her hair was extremely difficult to take care of, with all the knots and tangles spread around in her golden hair. Taking care of one’s hair is not easy especially if you hair is extremely long, which unfortunately is the case with her. But luckily her hard work paid off, for her hair was now free of knots. Putting the brush on her nightstand, she turned and walked over to her desk, gently picking up a book she was reading. She then strode out into the hallway carrying her book with her.

She had planned to Blue Salon and read with no interruptions, and no problems. Peace and quiet; that is the only thing she wanted. Turning a sharp corner, Adele entered the Blue Salon, feeling relieved that there was no one to pester her in her time of silence. Taking a seat she opened her book and began to read.

Flip, flip, flip.

Every so often you could hear the turning of pages moving swiftly and quickly, the breathing of a twenty-two year old, and the occasional tapping noise. That was all, and it was all she wanted to hear. Nothing but those three sounds. Other than that, there was complete silence. And for once, Adele was not agitated, nor embarrassed or upset; she was calm. Silence, how wondrous it was. It was the one thing that made her feel peaceful and serene. Silence, she thought, as she continued to read.

((Approachable))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was inordinately flattered when Adele accepted the proffered wine with a polite thank you and took a dainty sip. Even nicer? There were no further unpleasant facial fluctuations when he spoke. In fact her face broke into a smile. A controlled smile, yes, but far better than the fury she had demonstrated before. If fury it was.

She took another sip of wine, draining half her glass and muttered under her breath, "At least I didn’t consume it all." Larkin figured he wasn't supposed to respond to that, so he maintained a pleasant and neutral expression. She spoke a bit more, diplomatically thanking him for his time, and then excusing herself to abscond to the hallway.

Larkin stayed to eat a good meal- roast duck on wild lettuce- and chatted lightly with the drunk fellows he had noticed earlier, before going to his suite. He dismissed Ambrose to spend his evening as he would, finding out about Adele could wait for a more decent hour of the day.

The morning dawned, and Larkin awoke to Ambrose dropping a slip of paper on the writing desk, with a conspicuously torn envelope. Larkin idly contemplated reprimanding the lad for so shamelessly reading his correspondence, but Larkin decided to forgive him- mainly because doing elsewise would require actually rising. He let out some sound which cued Ambrose to his wakefulness, and the boy proceeded to say that an invitation to the royal wedding had arrived.

Larkin's face visibly darkened at the thought and Ambrose took the hint to leave, leaving Larkin to his silent musings. It was an old wound, her arranged marriage and by the time Ambrose returned with Larkin's attire the baron was quite composed. Dressing quickly, Larkin took another envelope that Ambrose handed him, this one from his steward and mercifully unopened. Cracking the rrather thick envelope open Larkin saw that the dutiful steward had heard of his impending return and equivocated on a number of issues until "his lord and leige" could return to offer his opinion. Happily the man was quite unconcerned about Larkin's gaffe with Lady Devine.

Larkin decided to answer the steward's letter outside of his suite, more from a boredom with the decor than anything else. He decided on the blue salon, at this hour it should be nearly deserted, and he had seen a few desks there.

Upon arriving he saw the room was empty except for the now seemingly omnipresent Baroness Adele. He paused in the doorway and he finally graced her with a small nod before going to a desk to work on his letter. He had acknowledged her presence which was enough for the purpose of social requirements. If she wanted to speak to him, very well, if not he did have work to do. He set to and idly wondered whether it would be in poor taste to filch leftovers of that duck dish from last night as he checked some crop tallies the steward had included.

((OOC:As he mused, she can talk to him or not as you see fit))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth awoke the next morning to what she sincerely hoped would be a much more Bella free day than yesterday. She had had enough of having to paste on fake smiles and pretending to be a featherbrain to last her for quite some time. Before bed she had attempted to decide whether it was worse to be forced to sit through dinner with Bella or her late husband’s two dreadful brothers, and had given up after she started to develop a headache.

It wasn’t that she didn’t see the necessity in behaving how she had, oh no, she saw it very clearly. And that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that Bella, unlike others she had met at court, couldn’t be trusted, just confirmed her thoughts. She would have behaved the way she did just due to that feeling alone, but the pretentious and really rather annoying way Bella had acted when they met just sealed the deal.

Marie-Elisabeth yawned and stretched as she slid out of bed, attempting to clear all Bella related thoughts from her mind. She found it wasn’t particularly difficult as much more pleasant thoughts soon filled it when her eyes fell on the ornate invitation perched on her bedside table. Mentally thanking Jeanne, she opened it and quickly skimmed over it. “A garden wedding” she mused, already mentally going through both hers and Charles’ wardrobes to decide on something suitable to wear “I bet it will be lovely. All those wonderful spring flowers, the beautiful atmosphere, they certainly picked the best possible time for a wedding. Unlike my mother who insisted I get married in the middle of December”.

She glanced around nervously as she said that, and then chided herself for doing so. “Despite what she says Lisabeth, Maman isn’t everywhere. Stop that”. Setting the card down, Marie-Elisabeth called for Jeanne to come and help her get dressed for the day. She had informed her the previous night, after finishing penning letters both to her mother and her darling son, that she wanted to wear her blue dress (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/BLUE.jpg) for the day. She had already worn it that week, but it was Charles’ favourite and she wanted to wear it for him when he arrived later that afternoon.

It didn’t take particularly long for her to get dressed, it never really did. Most of the time was spent pinning her long blonde tresses up into their signature tight curls, and perching the small blue hat that matched her outfit securely on top of her coiffure. And most of that time she spent thinking about Charles and how much she was looking forward to his arrival. With all the distraction she had lately, some much more pleasant than others, she hadn’t had much time to consider just how much she missed him. But now that his arrival was only a morning away, those feelings all came back to her.

As soon as Jeanne was finished she thanked and dismissed her, carefully placing her locket around her neck and fastening her bracelet around her tiny wrist. All preparations thus completed, she tentatively opened the door and glanced out. Seeing no sign of a certain neighbour of hers, she quickly made her way out the doors and down the hallways. She made a brief stop at the court accountant’s office before making her way towards the main foyer of the palace, smiling and counting the hours until her son was due to arrive.



(((OOC: Approachable.

Thanks for the hair info! I’ll be SURE to post lots of pictures of what will no doubt be an epicly slap festy asylum *snicker* And methinks we all know who'll be the biggest instigator ;)

And the dress I linked to is exactly what I mean for her, including the hair and hat (I did already use it one I think) Except no bow thingy around her neck. That would cover up her locket :P )))

[paintedgrey78]

of Baron Larkin, and immediately her stern demeanor softened slightly. He stood in the doorway for a moment noticing her presence and he nodded graciously, with Adele returning the gesture. As he sat down she couldn’t help but notice the letter he was holding in his hand. “Following me are you?” she asked him suddenly. A soft smile emerged on her lips and she let out a laugh, knowing full well that wasn’t the case. But a little joke would case no harm. “It’s good to see you again Baron.” She then turned back around and decided she would speak no more. He appeared to be preoccupied with his letter, so she opened her book and continued to read where she left off.

Though the Baron was now present Adele could still hear the silence lingering around the room. As she read she began to wonder how the rest of the evening went when she left. She didn't bother to stay for dinner for she was much too tired, and went straight to bed as soon as she entered her suite. But unfortunately in the morning she awoke to an growling stomach, and soon regretted her early departure from the Grand Dining Room.

Turning to the Baron she opened her mouth to speak, but quickly decided otherwise. Did he want to be bothered? It certainly didn't seem that way. He probably came to the Blue Salon to get some peace and quiet like herself. No disturbances ever. She did have a few questions to ask about last night, but she decided to ask him later in the day. So instead of being a nusiance and bothering the Baron she turned back to her book and began to read, though she didn't find it the the least bit interesting. It was an informational book which people in most cases, found dull and boring. Yet she didn't mind it so much. If it allowed her to learn something she didn't already know, then there was no reason not to read it.

[FurryPanda]

Larkin was a fairly subtle man, when he went people watching, it generally was not noticed. Indeed as he had walked into the room he had known Adele was there, but reflexive observations of reaction had made him wait to see how she would react. As she had heard him enter she had seemed annoyed at the sound, most likely at the invasion of whatever privacy could be found indoors in the Palace of Light and Air. Upon seeing him her expression had warmed notably, and she returned his nod when he gave it.

By this time Larkin had arrived at the desk and set out his letter, as well as a new sheet of parchment. Adele had done nothing more, in the admittedly short space of time this took, but even though convention would hold she greet him verbally he was still pleasantly surprised when she did say, in a sudden and brusque manner, “Following me are you?” He heard her give a small laugh and out of the corner of his eye he saw a smile grace her lips. He turned his head to return the smile, as was only polite, but it widened into a very sincere one as she continued, "It’s good to see you again Baron.”

He turned back to his letter quickly, hopefully before she saw how much her words pleased him and answered, "Pleasure is all mine Baroness, I did most enjoy our conversation last night." True enough in its way, that statement, but nonetheless it said very little. Larkin did not necessarily think of himself as a tired old courtier, but then again, few tired old courtiers would admit to that status. He reopened the stewards letter, but the thought of crop tallies and the good steward's trade crisises seemed stifling at the moment, so he leisurely replaced the letter and mostly blank reply back in the envelope to devote his attention to his companion. Not directly of course, but should she wish to speak, he was making it clear he wasn't doing anything.

[Ghanima Atreides]

César, Joséphine and Octavien - preparing to leave for the picnic

Joséphine's eyelids fluttered apart, squinting almost instantly against the sun's glare that streamed freely through an opening in the curtains. A drowsy smile found its way on her lips as she stretched and yawned, along with one thought which percolated her awareness: the picnic! It sent a thrill of joy through the young Marquise, who paused momentarily to review the previous night's agreement in her mind: after the sumptuous and almost formal dinner held in the Grand Dining Room, the two pairs -César and herself, joined by Octavien and his Spanish bride- departed together for their suites. Once Her Excellency had vanished behind the doors of her chamber, the three friends took advantage of an increasingly rare moment of privacy, during which César slipped a mention of Octavien's final day as a “free man”, playfully tempting him into revealing whether he had planned anything special to mark the occasion. Since he hadn't, Joséphine thought of the invitingly pleasant weather they had been blessed with over the past few days, and suggested a picnic near the lake, just the three of them. It did not take long for the suggestion to become an agreement, as though each of them sensed these light-hearted escapades would become fewer and fewer once Octavien married.

Quite the opposite of the glum sullenness which the previous day had crept into her mind and heart alike, Joséphine pushed the covers aside and leapt gleefully to her feet: deep down she knew well that the grievance with César was far from resolved, but for the moment it remained subdued, buried underneath the anticipation of a pleasant outing in the picturesque heart of the Palace gardens, away from the prying eyes of courtiers, and away from her. Taking a few steps around the suite, Joséphine noted a beige card bound with a red bow; she recognized it for what it was before even opening it, for it could have only been one thing: the invitation to Octavien and Elena's wedding. Sighing quietly, the Marquise set it down again and glanced at the shaggy top of César's head that was just visible from under the covers, as reluctant as ever to leave their snug comfort. Joséphine pried them apart just a little bit and reminded him of their appointment, which earned her a surly grunt from her husband. Chuckling to herself, she then reviewed her wardrobe for something to wear, eventually selecting a soft blue gown (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Ghanima/RP%20Contests/paleblue7.jpg), which was elegant -considering the company she would be in- but not overly so -suited for a picnic-. This reminded her of something César had mentioned the other night, that he had ordered some new fabrics and patterns for her to look at and decide on for some new dresses. The gesture, although disguised as nothing but a gift from a loving husband, left Joséphine wondering whether he was secretly trying to make up for ...recent events. He had been known to use the same tactic in the past after having spent time away from their home and marital bed, “on business” or “with friends”, apparently convinced in his male mindset that a few pretty garments were enough to wipe any grief off a woman's brow. Another sigh accompanied this thought.

Eventually, César was persuaded to accept the fact that time had caught up on them and their maid was summoned to help them dress, which took a considerable amount of time. This meant that they both assumed a quick pace across the corridor and down the flight of stairs which brought them to the Main entrance hall, where Octavien was arriving with several servants in tow, all carrying the various paraphernalia needed for a royal picnic.

((ooc: I hope this works, Atropa!))

[AtropaMandragora]

Ever the early riser, and painfully aware that it might be the last day he could spend entirely the way he chose to, when Octavien had left the Palace the first time around this beautiful morning, it had been in dawn's early light, when the sun had just barely risen above the horizon, painting the sky in the vibrant colors of red, pink and orange. His mind had been set on enjoying every minute of it, as starting the next day, he supposed that he would from then on be expected to share part of his morning procedure and have breakfast along with his new wife daily. Unless, of course, the two of them could come to some sort of agreement similar to the one he'd had with Adalita; that they lived their lives seperately, and only appeared together for official events, or other circumstances that called for it. Right now, however, it was far too early to tell whether such an agreement would be possible or not, as Octavien still dwelled in darkness regarding Her Excellency's intentions and attitude towards the whole thing. She seemed agreeable enough, but that could be as much of a problem as it could be a blessing, depending on her feelings regarding Octavien and their marriage. If she had as little interest in him as he did in her, the only problem would be for the two of them to figure out the mutual disinterest, so that the agreement could be made. If she had hopes for a real, traditional marriage however... Well, then it might prove to be difficult indeed, because Octavien really wasn't out to hurt or offend her, and how did one go about telling someone you preferred to have as little as possible to do with them, without doing that?

However, these were all thoughts Octavien had left to be pondered later, as he really didn't intend to have anything clouding this 'last day as a free man', as César had put it.

Knowing he had a few hours before he was to meet up with his two friends, who, contrary to Octavien himself, were hardly known for being early risers, the young Prince had made his way to the stables, to start off the day the best way he knew how; on the back of a horse, gallopping along the paths in the forest and across the nearby fields, letting the speed and the fresh air peel away any last trace of sleep, and wash his senses with clarity and vivacity, preparing him for whatever the day ahead of him might bring. This morning, and for this purpose, he chose one of the beautiful Lippizan stallions (http://www.lesaboteur.com/race-cheval/imgs-races/lippizan/lippizan.jpg) he knew had been acquired from one of his own father's stud farms, and soon set off on the magnificent beast, leaving behind a small cloud of dust drifting aimlessly across the stableyard, before dissipating.

During the few months he had been at court, he had already spent enough time riding and roaming the Palace grounds and their surroundings, to know each path like the back of his hand, and thus soon turned the horse from the main road through the forest onto another, slightly narrower one, choosing a route he knew would eventually lead him back to the Palace. He didn't want to be late for meeting with César and Joséphine, nor did he desire to show up smelling of horse. Therefore, it was within the hour that he returned to the stables, cheeks flushing red from the wind and the effort, his face and the upper part of his chest, visible through the loosened lacing of his simple, white shirt, glistening with a thin, thin layer of sweat. Dismounting with the grace of an experienced rider, he then handed the reins to one of the stableboys, offering a bright and satisfied smile in the process, before heading back to his suite, a cleansing bath and fresh clothes.

When once again he emerged through the double doors, he had been dressed in a dark purple frock coat (http://www.crimson-tale.com/Temp/PicnicOctavien.jpg), with cream colored breeches, both perfectly tailored, but suitably simple in that neither had been decorated with lace or embroideries that could easily be torn during outings such as the one Octavien was about to indulge in. His gossamer hair had been neatly pulled back by a black ribbon, as always, and on his feet was a pair of comfortable leather boots, perfect for walking and riding. Outside the suite Gilles was waiting along with a handful of servants, carrying baskets with food and wine, blankets, parasols, and other 'necessities' for the Prince's picnic. Gilles was just finishing his inspection of what had been brought, and turned to Octavien as the young man stepped through the door, giving a nod of approval of the preparations.

"Everything is ready, Your Majesty", he said with a deep bow.

"Thank you, Gilles", Octavien replied with a faint but warm smile. "You may go. I doubt I shall recquire your assistance until tonight."

At that, the elderly man gave another bow, and Octavien turned to leave, making his way down the stairs towards the Palace entrance, with the rest of the servants trailing a few paces behind him. They all reached the first floor just in time to see César and Joséphine approach from the hallway in which their suite was located, and Octavien greeted with yet another warm smile, only wider this time.

"Your Highness", César said with a slight smirk, while forcing himself into a bow.

He still had quite a bit of trouble adjusting to the severely reversed roles of him all of a sudden finding himself far beneath his old friend in rank, and thus still could not deliver such a submissive salut without making it sound as though there was some ironic joke hiding in there somewhere.

"My", he then added once he'd straightened his back. "You're looking mighty cheerful this morning."

"I have no choice, do I?" Octavien immediately retorted, still smiling, as witty remarks were rarely far away when the two men got together, especially when either of them had just brought the other's need to retaliate upon themselves. "For if I didn't, we'd all be made to listen to you whine about how I don't appreciate your company, or something equally melodramatic."

That being said, he then turned to Joséphine, leaving César no chance to deliver a comeback. Which, in secret, César was quite grateful for, as Octavien's remark had actually managed to take him by a bit of surprise, thus leaving him speechless for a second or two, which in turn would have been made noticable, had Octavien not turned to the pretty brunette by César's side, and continued;

"Joséphine, you're looking radiant as ever. Life at court agrees with you."



(((ooc: Ghanima - Works perfectly. :) Oh, and, I would have moved them on out of the Palace, but I didn't want to rush things, nor have Octavien seem like a three year-old on speed. :D


Also; they're not approachable.)))

[paintedgrey78]

A kind smile formed on the Baron’s face which then became much more heartfelt, for her words appeared to delight him. He seemed to notice this for he quickly turned around to his letter, which had been lying on the desk. “Pleasure is all mine Baroness, I did most enjoy our conversation last night.” Adele nodded her head and opened her mouth to reply, but he opened the letter once more as if continuing to reply to it. But he paused midway, suddenly putting the letter and his reply back into the envelope. He obviously had no desire to respond to this unknown letter, so she face him one again.

“I also had lovely time yesterday,” she replied, giving a slight smile. “Although I wish I had stayed for a bit longer last night. Had I been thinking more clearly I would have eaten something before deciding to departure.” She sighed at her own foolishness, shaking her head slightly. Unfortunately she would have to wait a few hours before she had the chance to eat anything, and she was on the brink of starvation. Yet maybe if she asked to have a small bite to eat, it might hold her over until dinner came round. Turning to face the Baron she continued.

“I hope you didn’t mind me leaving so abruptly like that.” She pondered a bit, deep in thought, then continued on. “Was everything alright after I left? There was no trouble, I assume.”

Adele opened her mouth to continue to speak but quickly decided otherwise. She felt as if she was beginning to sound like someone’s mother; always questioning their child to see if they were alright, constantly trying to shield them from danger, and always seeming to worry. But she was certainly nobody’s mother, and had no intention of acting like it either. So instead of continuing her interrogation, her gaze traveled to the opposite end of the room and she laughed, she blue eyes shining. She gave a quick glance towards the Baron, wondering how he would react. Surprised, baffled, maybe even upset perhaps? She sighed, wondering why on earth she was so concerned about it. She had no need to worry – no reason to even think twice about it. Of course there was Baron Larkin, but she had just met him yesterday. She hadn’t even known him long enough to even consider him a friend. In her opinion, acquaintance was a more appropriate word.

But that still did not explain her reason for such concern. She sighed, knowing that she would not be able to figure this out in only a few minutes. Yet countless thoughts continued to rack her brain as she closed her book and rested her hands in her lap, waiting for the Baron’s reaction.

[Slytherin-Girl]

((OOC: *snickers at thought of Octavien running aroud like a sugar/ generally high 3 year old* *then coughs and points to sig*)))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Atropa, Ghanima, I hope it's okay what I had Bella do. I couldn't think of any other way for her to find out that Berini's dead and she wouldn't just let go of the opportunity to talk to him if he was still around. But if it is a problem, do let me know :) )))

After one whole day’s dedication to an exceptionally unnerving Comtesse, Bella knew she had shown equally exceptional restraint in not using cutlery as weapons when the woman just kept going with her frankly excruciatingly painful company. Bella had never before thought that the expression ‘I’d rather watch paint dry’ could mean so much. But it had. Further more on the subject of Marie-Elisabeth, the woman was either completely dim-witted, completely self-absorbed or completely secretive. Well, Bella being ever paranoid, decided to add the last to the list compiling what she knew of her neighbour; possibly home-wrecker, pretentious and secretive. They were going to be good friends, she could tell.

However, after dinner, she had managed to give Marie-Elisabeth the slip and struck up conversation with a few other, more knowledgeable courtiers who seemed to have a fraction of a clue as to what was going on in the world around them. Eventually, through the ins and outs and helped greatly by Elena’s grand entrance, she was able to elicit certain important information rather inconspicuously. For starters, a Marquess Berini had apparently been behind the attempt on Octavien’s life and it’d caused such an uproar that it suggested that Marie-Elisabeth must have been blind, deaf and shut up in her room to have not heard the gossip. Therefore, communicating with Bella was the problem there. Well, looks like her dear neighbour would have to serve as Bella’s entertainment then.

Yes, Marquess Berini. He’d apparently requested a meeting with the Prince, gone in there and, five minutes later, tried to stab him. Just as a point of interest, why exactly was he having Octavien killed? To save the monarchy from a Prince who wasn’t royal blood? So was that so that they could make allegiance with another country by marrying off Princess Adalita to a groom from a foreign land? Possible, but rather improbable seeing as they already were married and Adalita –who’d have been widowed if the attempt had been successful – would perhaps refuse to marry again for quite some time. A little twist of fate then, that she died, he’s a widower and due to be married again in a day.

Also just out of interest, what exactly was the Marquess planning to do once he’d managed to kill Octavien? What a stupid way to assassinate someone…. Wait. That really was incredibly dense. So, was Berini just some perpetually drunk fool or was there something more to it? Was he a sacrificial lamb, sent as a threat to Octavien rather than an actual attempt on his life? So, who were these people and why exactly was Octavien being threatened rather than killed? Did they need him to dance to their tunes? Also, had Berini just lost his mind and decided to sacrifice his entire future on a whim? He had to have been offered something.

Alright, hold on, Bella, she halted herself. That was a conspiracy theory and it needed some work. It needed more information, proof and she wasn’t going to get either of those lying half-asleep staring at the canopy over her bed. Yes, that’s right, her epiphany had managed to strike right in the middle of slumber. Always so co-operative. Therefore, she could not go back to sleep because this was playing rampantly over her mind, taking paths and avenues explore more and more possibilities and she could not go to sleep just in case she did manage and forgot about the whole idea come morning.

Hence, out of bed it was, in the middle of the night, by candlelight, the lone figure of Bella easing herself into her dressing gown as she moved to her desk, sitting at the chair to formulate a plan. Firstly, she had to locate this Berini, find out where he was, if not executed, and what would make him talk regarding why he’d made such a pitiful assassination attempt. Obviously, if he was still alive, he’d be stationed at a dungeon somewhere and they didn’t have the best mail service. His family or his estates would be the best place to look. Except, they weren’t likely to release his details to just anyone.

Well, money made the world go around. It took Bella only a short moment to come up with a feasible idea. She’d pretend to be a lawyer. She’d pretend to be a lawyer of a deceased aunt, who died a wealthy spinster and left Berini her cats and some of her silver. It stood a good chance of working and therefore Bella wasted no time in getting into the crux of things. Being naturally left-handed, and that feature having been declared a sign of the devil, she had been taught to write with her right hand. That did not mean that she stopped using her left hand for writing. Therefore, Bella ended up with two distinct handwritings, one for each hand. For the letter, to avoid any danger of detection, she used her left-handed writing. Having finished, finally asking for Berini’s whereabouts to approach him to sort out the details of the transaction, she wrote down the return address of a good friends; Jean-Louise’s. Jean-Louise had been at the Abbey with Bella and had grown to be a dear friend, almost a sister. She’d know what to and Bella would write a letter in the morning outlining what she expected.

With that, she finally retired to bed again, falling asleep steadily with no burden in her mind. Dreams and blank periods of time passed and eventually morning called, rousing Bella from sleep. The half-hour or so that she lost writing the letter had made no real difference to the degree of renewed energy with which she woke, rising out of bed with enough zeal to even hope for a whole day without dear Marie-Elisabeth. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so here’s hoping. With the help of Grace, Bella was soon dressed and ready, in her moss green dress (http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y84/Alissa888/paleblue9.jpg), her hair (http://celebslam.celebuzz.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/01/sophia-bush-mtv-trl.jpg) done to let the loose curls hang free.

Sufficiently ready, she wrote the letter to Jean-Louise before handing out the rest of the orders for errands Grace was to carry out for her. Grace having been Bella’s maid for years on end now, would not question it, neither fail to fulfil it to the best of her ability.

“I want you to find Marquess Berini’s home address – it should be in the records somewhere – and post this to reach there,” she said handing the unlabelled envelop to the maid before handing the one address to Jean-Louise. “Make sure you raise no questions. Also, post this other letter.”

With that, she simply moved into the salon of her suite, taking a few moments to herself before she was ready to go out, lest her wonderful neighbour lingered there.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena Sánchez could not bear being idle; from the crack of dawn until she drifted asleep late the coming night, she required an occupation to keep her mind alert and senses sharp, whether she met with people she was interested in for whatever reason, or some other matter had her engaged, she tirelessly kept reaching towards her next goal: nothing was left to chance, or at little as possible, and at the end of the day Her Excellency went to bed with the distinct impression that twenty-four hours were never sufficient for her to accomplish everything. She could simply not comprehend the affinity so many had for leisurely mornings spent lounging about doing nothing productive, or even worse, sleeping until midday, or, the greatest offender of them all, days upon days filled with nothing but frivolities that served no real purpose but indulgence. Ah, the senselessness of some!

Perhaps due to the fact that the suite did not yet meet all her requirements thus having spent a slightly restless night, Elena awoke even earlier than usual, a glance at the sky patch visible through the window revealing a starry expanse of compact washed-ink blue, growing brighter along the eastern edge of the horizon. This, combined with Elena's excellent inner clock confirmed the hour was just before five, give or take. Not even considering trying to drift back to sleep, she pushed the covers aside and emerged from the luxurious canopy bed, reaching for a deep crimson and gold dressing gown stitched with pearls and summoned Juanita to her along with everything necessary for a bath.

Half an hour later, as she sat in the tub amidst the warm water which soaked her body while clouds of steam billowed towards the ceiling, Elena's thoughts drifted to the previous evening's dinner. It had been a pleasant enough experience, in the sense that she had been seen by the entire Court the way she wished to be engraved in their memories: striking and regal. On the other hand, her intention of further observing Octavien all but failed as she was not only forced to deal with interminable greetings and protocols, but a very talkative Marquis. César de la Vallière proved to be depressingly young, infused by that “joie de vivre” common to noblemen who needed nothing else to do but gather the fruits of their forefathers' efforts. A young fop, but not an altogether useless one, for Elena had been able to slip a couple of subtle questions among their chatter, thus learning that he and Octavien had known eachother since boyhood, for example. So, this was not a recent friendship possibly wrought around the Prince's new title, but apparently a long-lasting one, adding to the foundation of Elena's growing opinion that Octavien was indeed not a disagreeable man, if he was able to keep friends for so long, another apparently being the Marquis' wife, with whom he conversed openly and congenially.

Elena rested her head on the smooth edge of the bath tub, a contemplative sigh escaping her lips; on either of her shoulders, Juanita's nimble fingers rubbed aromatic oils into her skin, draining the tension from her muscles.

“Has my wedding gown been unpacked?” Elena asked all of a sudden, tilting her head in the girl's direction. Much of her luggage still remained unpacked, the lavish gown tailored in Spain being one of them.

“Yes milady,” the Gypsy replied. “I brought it to the Palace tailor for final adjustments myself.”

Elena didn't respond, which signified she had no objections. Later on, as she was being helped into a gown (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Ghanima/RP%20Contests/black2.jpg) featuring liberal amounts of black lace and gradient hues of blue and mauve, a new plan was already taking shape in her mind.

“There is something else too,” she told Juanita, who was fastening the lacing of her corset. “I need you to go around the Palace and find me a quiet spot where I may conduct a meeting with someone in privacy, yet public enough to avoid suspicion in case someone happens across it. Report to me in two hours.”

Once her maid had left, Elena wasted no time in summoning two Palace servants responsible with the furnishings of the many salons and suites that composed it, dictating the changes she wished to be made to her own chambers: for once, a definite change of the general pastel hues apparently favoured by the former Princess to the darker, richer colours Elena herself liked: crimson, amber, cinnabar, royal blue, deep purple and black being a few. Some of the furniture of course had to be replaced, and even some additions needed to be made, such as a proper desk. Elena intended to keep the original bed however, with only a change of sheets, covers and canopy and most of the decorations.

The following two hours were spent recording events in her diary and constructing a collection of letters received prior to her leave from Spain: these were not for her use, but someone else's, and Elena fully intended to claim the price for their trade that very same day. Folding them neatly into halves, she slid them into an envelope and sealed it shut. Later, when Juanita returned with her finds, her mistress was not disappointed: the only thing left was to choose between two secluded salons, a veranda that apparently most Courtiers avoided, the far end gardens and the Orangery. Elena wished to avoid having the said meeting within the Palace premises, all too aware that even the most inconspicuous rooms had walls with possible ears attached to them, thus dismissing those locations almost immediately. The gardens, although providing more space, were either too open, or left them vulnerable to eavesdroppers and had no viable way of knowing when someone was approaching until it was often too late. The Orangery seemed the best solution in this case: it was secluded and according to Juanita not altogether a popular location, especially at that time of the year, could easily be inspected for intruders and, once assured she was alone, Elena did not doubt there would be a place from where she could survey the entrance without being seen: such places had many windows to let natural light in for the plants' growth, and often good enough acoustics to be able to hear any unwelcome footsteps. Not to mention, leaves and branches would provide shelter.

Writing a simple note, Elena handed it to Juanita with the specification that it should be delivered to the hands of Comtesse Isabella Devine, and hers alone, as quickly and secretively as possible. The note read:

“Meet me at the Orangery, in one hour.

E.”


((ooc: Alissa -hope this works? Sorry about the delay, RL is kicking my butt. lol

ETA: The Berini thing sounds good to me, although this was Atropa's plot and she probably knows better :)

Atropa - I hope what I wrote about César is ok, I imagined Elena would have tried to slip a few questions about Octavien here and there, subtly of course :D

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: It's all fine by me, Ghanima. I wasn't sure if Elena was already in the orangery, so I left that part open, so hope this works for you)))

A while had passed during which Bella blissfully lost herself between the covers of a book. Not fiction, however. She was no real fan of someone’s fantastical ramblings, save for a few truly inspirational works. No, she very much liked to remain in the world to which she was currently ordained, lest it change without anyone them noticing. What was the point of dwelling in a realm imprinted in pages of a book when there were far more intriguing things one was already embroiled in?

Thus, her decision to read An Essay to Revive the Ancient Education of Gentlewomen, a rather bold piece of literature to challenge exactly why men deserve full control of the world they lived in. She knew for a fact that Duchessa Natalina Pizerio, her Godmother of sorts, would relish this. Well, to be honest, the Duchessa had probably already read it and managed to write a dissertation on it. Of course, she’d advise that equality rewarded to women was not a topic to be declared among men, it was a conquest to be secretly attained. The Duchessa did like and indulge in more than her fair share of underhand tactics after all, and had somehow managed to mould Bella in her image.

Her thoughts interrupted by the sounds of knocking at her door, Bella simply cast a glance at Grace as the maid scurried over to the door, opening it to greet her visitor. Bella simply returned to her book, but was only embroiled in it for a moment longer before Grace rushed to her, flustered. And what exactly had been that unsettling?

“It’s her, my Lady,” Grace uttered, her voice hushed, almost wringing her hands. “The Spanish woman.”

Bella’s eyes widened for a moment. What?! She credited Elena with much more intelligence than to show up at her door!
"Her Excellency?!” she demanded of her main through complete incredulity.

“No, no,” Grace corrected. “The other one, my Lady. The… the maid.”

Bella almost laughed. During their time in Spain, Grace had served with Juanita. And hated every moment of it. Juanita had… disturbed Grace’s calm somewhat and Bella wasn’t particularly surprised; Juanita would be enough to disrupt the calm of a monk. Still, Grace had to toughen up and deal with things. She’d come into contact with Juanita a lot more now that both Elena and Bella were more or less permanently residing in the same court.

“She won’t bite you, Grace,” Bella calmly pointed out with an exasperated sigh. “What does she want?”

Apparently Juanita had something for Bella and would deliver it to her and her alone. Well, wasn’t that loyal? The Comtesse could only just fathom the amount of drive it must take to keep oneself tethered to Elena and not want to constantly pull at the chains. Then again, the workings of Juanita’s mind was beyond Bella, and possibly anyone’s, ability to understand. The girl was just completely and utterly strange. Coming face to face with her once more, Bella was starkly reminded of why she’d understood how Grace had been so unsettled. It was the look in Juanita’s eyes, a primal look of sorts that was always so threatening, as if there was a wild animal in there somewhere.

Dismissing the object of scrutiny, Bella finally opened the note, only to be utterly dismayed at the contents. Elena wanted a meeting. That wasn’t incredibly great news, but it wasn’t exactly surprising. What was surprising and borderline devestating was the fact that Her Excellency had managed to choose the one place Bella had grown to detest already during her short time here; the Orangery.

There was little sympathy to be gained from Grace, her maid of several years, over the matter, simply beacause Grace believed thoroughly that Bella was committing a grievous crime by spying on the Prince and went as far as to reiterate her belief as advice to Bella, cornering on the fact that being summoned to the Orangery was a sign and punishment of sorts.

“If I wanted ‘I told you so’s, Grace, I have the Holy Bible at my disposal,” she simply dismissed before placing the note somewhere safe. For insurance purposes.

With that, she simply made her way towards the Orangery, every step towards the blasted place prompting her more and more to turn back and run, to request that Elena pick some other place. But no. Then Elena would know there was something Bella had against the place and she’d probably see it – even something so trivial – as a sign of weakness. Further more, Bella was too interested in what news Elena had for her to delay the meeting any longer. She’d just have to deal with whatever feelings she had against the place in which they met.

Therefore, taking a deep breath, she pushed the doors open, cautiously venturing into the place, her eyes vigilant for any movement, both human and spider. For particularly disconcerting specimens of both species were due to join her here.

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Alissa - It's ok with me. Though do keep in mind that Berini's home is in Italy. :) Not that it matters a whole lot, but I'm a freak when it comes to details, so... :D

Ghanima - "A young fop". :laugh: César would have died, had he know! He thinks he's so very, very charming. *lol* And yeah, it's perfectly fine with me. César would have a tendency to run his mouth when talking to Elena, I think. Not in that he pours out all Octavien's secrets, or even any of them, but he would be far more open and unrestrained than Octavien is currently being. *nod* So yup, as long as she's subtle and seems to just be making conversation, I don't think César will clam up. )))

[FurryPanda]

Larkin saw that Adele was watching him, not from any observance on his part but the sheer speed with which she replied, at the precise moment when it became acceptable to do so, which was when the letter went back into its envelope. Insofar as she had to have been waiting, or at least watching, this precisely acceptable timing lost said propriety. Larkin decided to be more amused than offended.

“I also had lovely time yesterday,” she replied, and by the time Larkin had turned to look at her again, he had fixed a slightly amused, but generally cheerful expression on his features. He imagined it to look slightly paternal. Her face had developed into a small smile, which belied her next words, “Although I wish I had stayed for a bit longer last night. Had I been thinking more clearly I would have eaten something before deciding to departure.”

Larkin didn't let his expression waver, but he was a man who enjoyed his food, and it took a lot more than an awkward conversation, bad seating, and a questionable dinner companion to displace him from said food. Especially since last night he had sensed none of this at least for his perspective. Adele's words had indicated she didn't think so either, but then again words are wind, and this was France. She sighed and shook her head, a sentiment Larkin most thoroughly agreed with.

Before he could offer to take her to the kitchens- it was too late to get a proper breakfast, but plenty early enough that there would be leftovers- she continued, with a definite pause in the middle, “I hope you didn’t mind me leaving so abruptly like that. Was everything alright after I left? There was no trouble, I assume.”

What a strange thing to ask... On the surface it seemed like a polite, but veiled apology for what was rather poor courtesy, but her tone made it seem honestly concerned. Was she actually worried about what he might think? Doubtful, as he had done his utmost best to seem nonthreatening. Asking specifically about trouble would imply she thought there had been some, had something occurred last night that one in the dining hall should have been aware of? Even more doubtful that, he had been there the whole time, and Ambrose would have cued him in on anything subtle. So maybe something she had planned? He could not help but le t a small smile creep onto his face, Larkin was usually a fair judge of character, and he did not think that Adele would have planned any "trouble." For sheerly logistical reasons, rather than any dearth of character, she seemed too shy to have set up any sort of complicated web.

She gave a small laugh at something or other, and her eyes sparkled most invitingly. Larkin let his grin stay on his features, it could do no harm despite having arrived before her laughter. "There was no trouble, and there were plenty of people in the hall, maybe you noticed? I merely had my repast with them. It would have been nice to have your company as well, but it is perfectly acceptable that you left."

A subtle enough rebuke, in that it wasn't really a rebuke. Merely a courteous reply that reassured her, assuming her insecurities from last night remained, that he did not object to her company, and that he was perfectly fine without it. A bit vain of her to think otherwise, but nonetheless, socially acceptable. As to not eating dinner, or getting a servant to fetch something to her room, that was rather stupid, in Larkin's opinion, given his connoisseur attitude, but again, harmless. "I actually missed breakfast this morning, although I suppose I can't complain. I had planned on going to the kitchens, to see if there were leftovers, I am sure that you would be perfectly welcome to come along."

Larkin was incredibly curious to see what she would make of that. One could tell a lot about a noble by how they regarded their social inferiors. Most held them at a polite distance, but the few that regarded their servants highly enough, and were in turn well regarded enough to be treated very well, were great rarities, usually scorned by their more elitist peers. Larkin did not reveal what import he held his servant's esteem in, but then again it was fairly obvious from his casually speaking of going to the kitchens that he at least was held in some esteem somewhere. He wondered curiously if she would over react, or even notice. If Larkin himself, and his friends from his younger days, were any indication young nobles as a group considered kitchen leftovers to be their personal buffet,and would think nothing of an older person continuing the same behavior they indulged in. Then again, Adele looked to be in her twenties, possibly too old to engage in such silliness, and definitely old enough to understand the ramifications- that he was a dodderer of some sort- of close ties to the lower classes.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine with César and Octavien - The Gardens --> The Lake meadow

A look of pure amusement found its way onto Joséphine's features as she observed César and Octavien resume their typical bickering within moments of seeing eachother, especially since she knew how many prim and proper noblemen and women would scoff at the disregard of courtesy shown both by a Marquis towards his Prince but a Prince in the presence of lower ranking courtiers. Let them scoff! Most of them had forgotten the simple pleasures of indulging in a bit of light-hearted conversation, or the comforting presence of a friend.

"Your Highness", César said and executed a polite yet stiff bow as she offered her own greetings, though the deference did not extend to his expression which held the usual amount of mischief and a smirk which was never far from his lips. Joséphine privately smirked as well, wondering how long would it take her husband to get used to being outranked by Octavien. After a lifetime of habit, that shift would certainly take a long time and much wit. "My", he added "You're looking mighty cheerful this morning." leading Joséphine to expect a subtle allusion towards Octavien's impeding marriage or the person of his bride, knowing he too was curious to know what he truly thought of Her Excellency.

He did not however get the chance, the Prince proving of quicker wit and delivered a speedy retort before César could add anything else:

"I have no choice, do I? For if I didn't, we'd all be made to listen to you whine about how I don't appreciate your company, or something equally melodramatic."

This time, Joséphine emitted a soft chuckle, peering amusedly at her husband who, for the moment, remained daunted. She knew César was generally regarded as the more outspoken of the two while Octavien had a reputation for a more demure character, but the role was often reversed whenever the two of them engaged in another round of friendly banter, not unlike César and herself did in private, though in a blunt, masculine, comradely way.

Octavien however maintained his temporary upper hand, immediately turning to Joséphine with a compliment:

"Joséphine, you're looking radiant as ever. Life at court agrees with you."

Inexplicably, the first thought to form in the Marquise's mind was an old saying which claimed that pregnant women were surrounded by a wholesome “glow”. Her mother was a particular believer in that tale, Joséphine having heard her whisper that men found her irresistible whenever she was with child. Considering her own suspicions which she had only recently confessed to César, Octavien's words affected her with the weight of a semi-premonition even as inwardly dismissed such silly notions.

“Thank you” she replied with a warm smile. “I think you are right, this is the kind of life one can easily become accustomed to. I fear I might not want to leave again!”

Conversing merrily, the group departed the Palace, the servants following at a respectful distance. The weather was cheerful and pleasantly warm, a bright sun shining down from an almost cloudless sky. They diverted from the main paths, wanting to find a quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle of palace life, where they would not be disturbed. The gardens housed a small lake nestled beneath a grove of weeping willows, but getting there required a decent stroll. Some fifteen minutes later, Joséphine caught the scent of fresh, moist turf in her nostrils and before long a most picturesque landscape emerged into view: bordered by well trimmed hedges on one side and a thick cluster of trees at the other, a gently sloping meadow filled their horizon, ending with the blue expanse of clear water surrounded by majestic willows, reeds, and bushes. No soul was in sight as far as the eye could see and tranquillity enveloped them.

Joséphine gave a long, peaceful sigh and gazed at her companions:

“Shall we find a spot near the water?”

((ooc: If any problems, shoot me a note :D))

[paintedgrey78]

Adele's blond curls fell past her small, delicate shoulders as she gazed towards the Baron. Her eyes studied his expression as she spoke, which was slightly cheerful - fatherly even. Yet as she continued on, he no longer seemed quite so chipper, but confused, which from Adele's perspective was understandable. She did not expect him to apprehend her reason for such unearthly questions she had been asking him. You see, Adele is the type of person to believe that something is to go wrong whenever she isn't present. An example would be when she left the Great Dining Room; she actually thought that something was going to go amiss, but clearly nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. Of course it was all in her head, but she couldn't help but feel on edge. The only reason she bothered to ask such questions was because she was extremely paranoid about it, and wanted to make sure nobody had done anything stupid.

Now she was not one to question another person's intelligence, she wasn't going to go about guessing someone's level of intelligence; not only was it quite rude, but most people including herself would find it offensive. She did not think anyone was thick-headed exactly, you could be the most intelligent person in the world and make a stupid mistake; it was not unheard of. She gave a quick glance towards the door, and then turned back to face the Baron. Why on earth was she becoming so paranoid?

There could only be one possible explanation for her strange paranoia - her father.

It seems as if her father is turning out to be the source of all her troubles, which is truly quite unfortunate. But how you ask? How does her father have to do with any of this? Well ever since she knew her father he was always a bit dense, and it seemed that every time she turned her back he went and did something completely insane. Of course this was not his fault. Not only was a quite old, but months after the death of her mother he used to go out a drink every night, leaving Adele with no one to talk to but the maid. He used the alcohol as a way to "numb the pain" and to keep him from feeling depressed, yet he would consume so much of it that he would become intoxicated, resulting in him making awfully poor choices. It appeared that every time Adele wasn't around he would do something stupid, which would explain her being so paranoid and all.

Yet she wasn't going to tell the Baron about her reasons for asking such odd questions for it would only lead into her personal life, and she had no intention of sharing it with anyone.

“There was no trouble, and there were plenty of people in the hall, maybe you noticed? I merely had my repast with them. It would have been nice to have your company as well, but it is perfectly acceptable that you left. I actually missed breakfast this morning, although I suppose I can’t complain. I had planned on going to the kitchens, to see if there were leftovers, I am sure that you would be perfectly welcome to come along."

Adele nodded her head and gave a quick smile, slowly rising from her seat. “Of course,” she said simply, and grabbed her book to get ready to leave. She found nothing wrong with getting leftovers in the kitchen, if you were hungry then why wouldn’t you? Although she had never bothered to do it before, she had no problem with asking if she could possibly have a bite to eat, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary. But if they refused to give her anything to eat, they would certainly be getting an earful. Adele was not a kind person when she was hungry, instead she would be grumpy and a bit of a pain. But most people have never seen that side of her for she ate often, in order to avoid such horrible behavior.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena and Bella - The Orangery

Not ten minutes after Elena had watched Juanita retreat from her suite bearing the note for Bella, a discreet knock on the door announced the girl's return. She knew it was Juanita by the sound of her knuckles against the wood, something she was extremely familiar with to the point where anyone attempting to imitate it would have had little chance of succeeding. Such details matter much to Elena, who jealously guarded her privacy and her domain and did not tolerate intruders.

“Enter” she called out tersely, slowly turning shifting her position to allow a clear view of the doorway. An instant later, it was drawn aside and Juanita's waif silhouette slid through the gap – she rarely opened a door in its entirety, and even her walking resembled sneaking movements more than anything else. The Gypsy was dressed in a clean Palace uniform, her long bushy hair tamed into a braid and hidden beneath a bonnet, but somehow managed to retain eerie animalism. One look at the rows of sharp, yellowish teeth a hungry grin revealed shattered the deception created by the ordinary clothes.

“It is done, Milady” Juanita said and drew in a hissing breath, exhibiting the usual fanatical pride at having successfully served her mistress, no matter how trivial the task was. Elena knew she could have just as easily sent the girl to murder Bella instead of giving her a letter and she would have obeyed with the same lack of hesitation.

“Good”, she told her and waved a hand “Go, spend the day as you will, I shall not require your presence until this evening.”

Once she was alone, Elena walked over to the lacquered table she was using as a temporary working desk and lifted the envelope she had assembled earlier. It contained various the correspondence received from several agents sent to comb the Earth for Baron Ashton Devine. So far they had been unable to find the man, but one possible trace of him had been encountered in Italy. Detailed itineraries, journey logs and anything they deemed relevant had also been recorded, in the hope that Bella might recognize hints of her father's presence anyone else might have missed. The letters were duplicates: before leaving Spain, she had dictated copies, keeping the originals for herself just in case the Comtesse decided to be...difficult. Not that she imagined any reason she would decide such a thing, considering it was very much in her advantage to keep benefiting from Elena's wealth and resources, but she liked to be prepared.

Elena did not await for the hour to elapse; instead she departed her suite immediately and spent the time left inspecting the Orangery. First of all she made sure it was indeed as deserted as she hoped, then looked around for a good vantage point from where she could notice anyone approaching in advance. She found it several meters away from the main entrance, partially hidden from view by two magnificent bushes of blooming roses that crept upwards, alternating with ivy vines. The leaves and flowers had been trimmed away from the windows which offered a clear view of the path leading inside and the gardens around it. Not long after, she could hear approaching footsteps followed by a first glimpse of none other than Isabella Devine herself. The woman walked briskly, glancing around herself with what Elena thought was a manner of apprehension. Interesting. Hopefully the girl had been careful enough to avoid being followed.

“So, Isabella Devine...or better said Comtesse Isabella Devine which I have been informed is the proper term to address you nowadays” she called out when Bella was within earshot but had yet to notice Elena leaning against the stone wall behind the cover of the rose bush, a slight smirk present on her lips. “I see fortune has favoured you since we last met.”

Or was it fortune? Naturally, Elena was interested in that story as well as the rest of the news Bella had better have for her.

((ooc: As always, if any problems, let me know, Alissa!))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Works fine for me, Ghanima. Also, hope what I had Bella say about Elena was okay? Seeing as they'd be keeping tabs on each other, I expect Bella to have some grasp of what Elena's like? But, if there are any problems, do let me know :))))

“So, Isabella Devine...or better said Comtesse Isabella Devine which I have been informed is the proper term to address you nowadays,” called out a voice that Bella knew too well belonged to Elena. She’d been in the Orangery for all of half a minute before Her Excellency proved that she’d beaten her to it. In an hour’s time, then? It’d seem that both parties were rather impatient regarding the meeting and therefore had sought to get there first. Bella hoped that Elena had been as cautious as her, and also an inconspicuous, in getting to the Orangery. Elena, after all, was more likely to be followed than Bella. And thus, she was probably just as, if not more, careful. “I see fortune has favoured you since we last met.”

However, the suddenness of Elena’s presence had some what unsettled Bella even further than she already had been, the tightness in her slender shoulders creeping up almost instantly into her neck. She didn’t turn around immediately. She knew better than that, given the state of mind that she possessed. No, she needed to compose herself before taking on someone like Elena. Deep breaths and happy places found to ease herself and gain control before she slowly turned to face the other woman.

She hadn’t changed much in demeanour, then. Still the very same aura of superiority, of knowing better than everyone else, the air of untouchable greatness that hung around her like a second skin. Although, what really amused Bella was Elena’s dress. Dark and filled with black lace spreading out over the bodice like a midnight spider web. Well, wasn’t that fitting?

Studying Elena again once more as she had done upon their first meeting in Spain, Bella discovered the same things. Well, better safe than sorry, yes? First and foremost between the women was the simple similarity in the fact that both were the only children of influential men who refused to be controlled by anyone but the only women in their lives; their daughters. However, the contrast in the very same scenario was that Elena’s father hadn’t committed a crime and lost his title and was still very much renowned.

Outward appearance was somewhat a contrast too. Elena was so richly dark, an exotic beauty in every right, and revelling in every benefit it brought her. Of which Bella was sure there were plenty, for the King of France was hardly likely to simply agree to the match without Elena’s charms playing some part in it. The ravishing locks of dark hair, capturing black pearls that she had for eyes, and the confident tan of her skin were very unlikely to go unnoticed by any man with even a pathetic excuse for eyesight. Bella, on the other hand, was far more subtle. More than half-Italian, thanks to some recently perturbing parentage, she did enjoy it’s benefits; faintly olive complexion, though still golden, loose coils of dark chocolate hair and honey coloured eyes to match. Not quite the French ideal of fair hair and blue eyes, thus ever so slightly exotic, but still beautiful in her own right and, more importantly, passably French enough not to raise any uncomfortable questions. Though the rich and powerful ancestry of her father was rather well know, it was best not to cause deliberation upon the rather dubious origins of her mother, the late Duchesse Carmella Devine.

There was much, much more in realms of what Elena flaunted while Bella downplayed. The clothes Elena chose to wore were always of the finest fabrics, the most enviable designs and textures, taking every opportunity to display the affluence and influence she possessed. As a contrast again, Bella downplayed it. While her clothes were also the result of fine fabric investment, they were far more subtle. Still revelling herself in satin, silk, chiffon and whatever else struck her fancy, Bella was more than aware of the dangers of advertising the things one was not actually supposed to be able to afford. Though she was still very wealthy, her status previously as a Baroness would raise some questions as to how she was able to afford such luxury, which would lead the question of why the then Duc Devine had lost his title, but not his estates, and that in turn led to some topics that were best not ventured upon. So, the problem was solved by not raising the questions in the first place.

The same pattern seemed to follow the difference in countenance of both women. Elena behaved as if she already was royalty, which given her status in Spain, was more than justified. She always seemed to have about her airs and graces, that she was indeed better and therefore deserved respect, a way to command subconscious admiration in everyone around her. And it worked so well. Bella held more down to Earth charm, a sort of approachability that usually appealed to everyone to converse with her, to befriend her rather than worship her. Well, everyone except a certain Comtesse, but that woman probably had no time for anyone except herself and ‘darling Charles’.

Those outlined differences were only on the surface. Deep down inside, both women were probably more similar than either of them realised, otherwise there’d be little chance of a successful agreement between them. Granted, Elena was several steps more devious than Bella could possibly ever aspire to be, but the potential was probably there. With Elena, there was always a sort of dangerous vibe that she emitted, subliminally, the kind that enticed and drew you closer and closer like a moth to a flame. You knew that things could turn perilous any moment that she chose, but you were too wrapped up in her promises. With Bella, there were no such warning signals, just simple earthly appeal of human sincerity and affection. However, while Elena always carried about her that darkly beguiling light, what Bella possessed was a treacherous mask of virtue. Simply put, Elena was the equivalent a Siberian Tiger that you kept for its majestic nature and you knew it could tear you apart though you hoped genuinely that it didn’t, while Bella was a Persian cat that you kept close to you as a pet, pouring upon it affection and doting, not expecting the moment that it scratched you violently, the minor physical trauma the tip of the iceberg of the potential emotional hurt. It was never clear whose attack was worse, the Siberian’s or the Persian’s.

Perhaps that was why Elena had chosen to make use of Bella, because she knew the capability. Either way, though Bella had been most cautious to accept, she had only been too aware of the benefits. With her influence, Elena was much more likely to find her father’s whereabouts than Bella on her own could ever hope to achieve. Furthermore, Elena was to be the Princess of France, and hence her favour would be very advantageous. It was all well and good for Bella to be immediately related to Italian royalty, but when the only way to grandly acknowledge them would involve running the serious risk of exposing a rather insalubrious secret, it was best left as a last resort. Hence, Elena’s proposal had been somewhat of a godsend, but still very much a double edged sword.

Now. A deal is a deal is a deal. Once in, there was no way out and each participant came to hold enough ammunition over the other to keep the deal going unless one of the participants decide to do something inexplicably stupid. That participant was not likely to be Bella. She had too much to gain and too much to lose. Whatever twist Elena wished to put into her marriage to Octavien was no concern of Bella’s; it was their problem and they could handle it themselves the way she handled her problems by herself. Regardless of how pleasant Octavien seemed, her own agenda came first to Bella and she was sure he’d do the same thing in her shoes. After all, who wouldn’t? It wasn’t like she owed him anything.

So, right now, her loyalties lay with Elena, it’d been bought, but still it had to be paid for, thus it was currently somewhat a tentative loyalty.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Excellency,” she greeted cordially, a graceful curtsey to match the velvety quality of her voice. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

And you brought your Psycho Slave. I’m sure you feel at home already.

As for her commentary on Bella’s newfound title, well, didn’t news travel abnormally fast when you had someone at your beck and call, annealing to your whims and every desire with no questions asked? Was that what she wanted to turn Bella into? No chance. Now, best to dispel any ideas that Bella had simply found herself in luck and stumbled upon a title rather than having gone out of her way to make it easier for her to do Elena’s bidding.

“And we both know fortune favours those who help themselves,” she pointed out politely, her astute eyes reaching out to Elena, invoking the sense of shrewdness that both women knew the other to possess. Here, secluded in the Orangery, there was no need to indulge in pointless bouts of forced innocence. Now, she’d wait for Elena to commence business rather than instigate it herself, for she had to split her resources between fending off spider attacks and fending off Elena. And thus there was still that subtle tightness in her posture.

[AtropaMandragora]

As a man widely known for his wit and his sharp tongue, among other things, César de la Valliére wasn't particularly fond of being rendered stumped. Not in the sense that he would be angry, offended or even annoyed when ever it happened, which wasn't very often, but in the sense that it would spark an immediate and pressing need to get back at whoever had stunned him. He was competitive, and always enjoyed a good fight, whether it involved words, brains or pure muscle, and so when ever he lost a battle, it would only fuel his desire for a re-match. Even more so when he wasn't even left the chance to throw himself and his opponent into one once he had regained his composure, which usually only took a few seconds at the most.

So then, when Octavien after his oh-so-clever comeback instantly turned to Joséphine, as a way of ensuring that the triumph of temporarily flattening César remained his, César silently vowed to himself that when the right opportunity presented itself, he would return the 'favor'. He didn't interject the moment his tongue was loosened from it's chains, nor did he give an indignated huff to show his displeasure of being robbed of the chance to retort. He simply flashed a faint, and slightly patronizing smile, as though Octavien's quick wit was somehow his merit, for teaching Octavien how to use it, and now going to himself 'Isn't that cute?', much like a mentor when challenged by his student.

Several times during the pleasant little walk to the lake - as suggested by Joséphine the previous night when the genius among the small group had hinted that Octavien's last day as a free man should somehow be celebrated - the chance for a comeback arose. Octavien was somewhat of an easy target, simply because César knew him so well, and so the chances to slip him a jesting remark were plentiful. But none of them were the right one. None of them provided that extra oomph that César wanted for this one. And so he waited, deciding to bide his time and in the meantime partake in the cheerful chatter as though he had forgotten all about his playfully vengeful streak (even though they all knew on some level that sooner or later it would pop out like some unpredictable jack-in-the-box). The right opportunity would come along. An opportunity that would allow him not only to get back with humor, but with a bit of an edge as well. Nothing hostile or uncalled for, but a gibe nonetheless, to match the one Octavien had given him.

Being in no particular hurry, as none of them had any plans other than treating themselves to a day of good company and leisure, they maintained a fairly slow pace, strolling casually along the neatly kept gravel path at first, only to abandon it when it turned and no longer lead towards the lake, in favour of the lush green grass with a myriad of colorful wild flowers scattered all about. When finally the shimmering surface of water basking in the bright sunlight came into view, they even stopped for a few seconds, to take in the panorama of nature's beauty. Still neatly maintained, but not nearly as 'organized' as the part of the gardens they had left behind. Here the trees and bushes had not been strategically planted to form a pattern or an aisle, and the lake was an actual lake, formed by the hands of Mother Nature herself, and not the brainchild of some landscape architect.

The first to break the brief silence, was Joséphine, with a soft breath easing it's way past her lips in the shape of a sigh filled with serenity.

"Shall we find a spot near the water?" she said, giving the two men a glance, to which they only nodded at first.

"How about there?" Octavien then suggested, pointing towards a small cove nearby the cluster of trees; a place in the sun, yet close enough to both water and natural shade, should they desire the sensation of either.

It was a suggestion to which both Joséphine and César agreed, and together the three of them descended the gentle slope, followed by the small army of servants, who once the lady and the gentlemen reached their intended desitation, swiftly spread out the blankets on the ground, and set up the parasols as to not allow the sun to tan the skins of the picnickers, nor spoil the food in the two baskets of provisions. When it was all done, Octavien offered a faint smile accompanied by a gracious 'thank you', and then sent them back to the Palace.

Alone at last, the three friends found themselves their favored spots on the blanket, and César poured them each a glass of wine, while Joséphine and Octavien helped take out and set up the dishes intended for their first meal.

"So...", Octavien said once it was all set up and they had begun digging into the plethora of bread, marmalade, cheese and all the other ingredients of a steady breakfast. "You met... my bride to be yesterday. What did you think of her?"

Knowing that his two friends were both intelligent and perceptive, and considering he himself had had a bit of trouble determining where Elena stood on most anything, he was eager to hear of their impressions and observations, hoping that perhaps they had noticed something he himself hadn't, that would help in establishing if his soon-to-be wife was friend, or foe.

And that was the moment César's need to strike back emerged from hiding, to rear it's ugly head.

"My friend", he said, and laid down, propping himself comfortably on one elbow, after discarding the somewhat restricting light moss green frock coat (http://www.crimson-tale.com/Temp/PicnicCesar.jpg) he had been wearing, and taking on a matter-of-factly tone. "I do believe you are truly doomed."

Pausing for a moment, to ensure that he had indeed gotten Octavien's full and rather concerned attention, the young Prince's sapphire eyes instantly flooding with dread of having his fears confirmed, César then continued.

"She is by all standards a great beauty, she is a highly skilled and entertaining conversationalist, possesses the most enviable qualities of refinement, sophistication and congeniality, and she is by no means old. Oh yes, what a hag."

Silent at first, his cheeks flushing slightly with disconcertion at having his own skepticism and distrust of people so bluntly stated to his face, Octavien shot a brief glance in Joséphine's general direction, as if to see whether or not she shared her husband's sarcastic sentiments. Then, he turned his gaze back to César, and a faint, calm and yet still somewhat embarrassed smile emerged on his lips.

"You think I'm being silly", he said softly, as though establishing a fact.

César's expression however remained serious, though where before only his words had revealed his sarcasm, his tone of voice now joined in;

"You are about to marry a woman who would make most men go green with envy, and all you can look for, are faults. No, why would I think you're being silly?"

This time, Octavien had no reply to give, and merely shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable at being faced with having to explain what he found impossible to put into words. It was a feeling, intangible and fuzzy, based on recent experiences which had tainted his tendency to put a little faith in people. Not trust exactly, but faith, as in not thinking that everyone harboured ulterior motives and was out to get him somehow. There really was no way to explain it in words that another was likely to understand. Especially not since half the story, if not more, was something he could not afford to let past his lips. He couldn't tell them about Isabella, or the true story of Marquess Berini's 'attempt' on his life. He couldn't tell them about Adalita's betrayal, without risking having to tell them they why's and the how's of his marriage to her, and he couldn't tell them about Baroness Flight's/Venn's/Whatever's threats against him. And so, he did the only thing he felt was safe, at the moment:
He remained silent.

[Ghanima Atreides]

--Everyone, it is now Afternoon--


((ooc: Alissa - works perfectly, I agree with all you've written))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Waiting for something to come, Marie-Elisabeth was acutely aware, had the very annoying effect of making time drag on to a ridiculous degree. It felt like days instead of just hours since she had gotten up this morning, and found the wedding invitation on her side table. She had spent most of the morning flitting around between the front entrance waiting for Charles to arrive, and the suite next to hers making sure everything was just right for when he arrived. “Although” she mused, as she wandered back to the front entrance “If my visit this morning was successful we won’t be there for long. We could be moving into the only suite left in the better half of the palace. Which not only would be a great advancement for my little chou d’amour, but would get me farther away from that vile neighbour of mine”. She smiled at the thought as she all but skipped down the enormous stairs that lead up to the palace, wondering what on earth was taking Charles’ coach so long to get there.

In fact, as she reached the final step she was delighted to see the Valois coach (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/QueensCoach3.jpg) come up the main roadway leading to the palace. She smiled to see a familiar blonde head hanging out the side, darting around looking at everything. Marie-Elisabeth was hard pressed not to run down the road like a madwoman to meet him, or to giggle as she saw a hand dart out from inside the carriage and yank Charles back inside. “Simon” she thought, chuckling as the carriage pulled up “Charles would break his neck if it weren’t for him”.

But any thoughts of anyone else were rapidly wiped from her head as soon as the ornate carriage came to a stop and the door swung open, revealing her beloved son (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/blueboy.jpg) . His bright brown eyes, the only thing he really had of his father in him, were twinkling with suppressed mischief from being cooped up so long. “Maman” he cried, bounding out of the carriage and into her waiting arms. “I’m here, and you wore your pretty dress today. You look so pretty Maman, I missed you”. Marie-Elisabeth smiled into his hair and tightened her arms around him. She honestly hadn’t realized quite how much she had missed him until he was right back there in her arms. And despite her initial misgivings about bringing him to court, she was quite seriously considering keeping him there with her now. That was how much she missed him.

“Maman missed you to chou d’amour, very very much” she said, releasing him to smile at him “And I wore it just for you, I know how much you like it”. “I hoped you would” he said, grinning at his mother who straightened herself up and took his hand ‘That’s why I wore blue today too. So we would match. Right Monsieur Simon?”

The man nodded as he exited the coach behind him. “He was most insistent upon it Madame. He wouldn’t have any other colour”. Marie-Elisabeth smiled and squeezed Charles’ hand as he grinned at her. “Thank you for bringing him here safely Monsieur. You have my gratitude. And I trust you’ll be able to see everything safely to the suite”? she said, looking over at Simon who nodded. “Of course I will Madame” he said, bowing “And believe me it was no trouble with such charming company”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled at him again, before turning her attention back to Charles, who was tugging on her hand after waving his goodbyes to Simon. “Come on Maman. You have to show me everything around here. I want a tour” he said, all but leading her by the hand. Not that she was protesting the fact any. She has just happy that he was back with her where he belonged. “Of course love. I shall give you a tour right away. I bet there are lots of people who can’t wait to meet the grand Comte de Valois”. He grinned at that, always pleased to be referred to so importantly. “I know, that’s why we have to get going” he stated, tugging her hand again and she smiled and led him towards the gardens.



(((OOC: Approachable, really I’m bored LOL

For the coach, think the same thing except in blue and gold. Valois colours after all With the Valois crest on the doors. :P And for the portrait, exact same look except blonde hair.

Simon was mentioned earlier, he’s sort of an usher/footman kind of deal for Charles. Something like a man version of a lady’s maid/lady in waiting. He did the same for Charles Sr

Oh and in case you didn't notice...Charles=Only person capable of bossing ME around to any degree LOL)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine with César and Octavien - The Lake


Seated before the picnic blanket laden with fresh food and drinks, in the cool shade provided by the parasol above their heads, Joséphine could easily have imagined herself at home, in one of the picturesque glades surrounding the de la Vallière family estate. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves and branches, and the soothing sound of water lapping the lake's shores mingled with the chirping of birds and the occasional buzz of an insect drawn by the sweet scent of marmelade. She felt content, all worry and distress draining out of her mind and body to be replaced by a feeling of well-being.

For a while, conversation limited itself to light hearted topics, jets and bouts of laughter as the three friends partook in the delicious treats prepared for them at the palace. Joséphine was particularly fond of the strawberry jam and the wine which she sipped a little too liberally, bringing a pinkish flush to her cheeks. It was then that Octavien proposed a more serious question:

"So...", he began "You met... my bride to be yesterday. What did you think of her?"

She had been right after all, Joséphine mused during the momentary silence that followed. Octavien did harbour doubts and worries over his impeding marriage, just as she had told César. She experienced a twinge of heart-felt sympathy towards the young Prince, remembering the numbing terror which had gripped her insides after receiving the news of her own marriage to César, more than six years ago. She had been avid for any sort of insight into the fate which loomed over her like a threatening shadow, eager to know all she could about the young Marquis destined to become her husband who, for all she knew, could have been a violent drunk like her brother-in-law. The inevitability of it was worst, and Joséphine was currently sensing a similar anxiety in Octavien. He was at an even greater disadvantage, engaged to be married mere days after having been widowed, to a foreign woman none of them knew anything about. Gathering all of the impressions Her Excellency had provoked the previous night, Joséphine found them disappointingly inconclusive: she seemed pleasant enough, refined in speech and mannerisms alike, but that was a skill a woman of her stock was expected to possess. She hadn't been able to pinpoint any specific indication of what sort of person she truly was, apart from a subtle aura of what the Marquise interpreted as superiority. Her Excellency had shown no signs of being overwhelmed by the attention she was receiving or that she even disliked it; granted, a woman hailing from one of Europe's most ancient noble families must have been accustomed to the royal treatment, unfortunately it could also have meant arrogance.

Before she could put any of these thoughts into words however, César proved quicker as decided to be the first to break the contemplative silence.

"My friend", he began on a firm tone that instantly earned him the attention of both his friend and wife "I do believe you are truly doomed."

Like Octavien's , Joséphine's eyes widened with surprise and concern before César spoke again, revealing the true intent of his comment:

"She is by all standards a great beauty, she is a highly skilled and entertaining conversationalist, possesses the most enviable qualities of refinement, sophistication and congeniality, and she is by no means old. Oh yes, what a hag."

Having all but forgotten the round her husband had lost to Octavien earlier in their game of playful bickering, Joséphine's brow furrowed at his apparent lack of compassion for his friend's predicament, for she could not imagine César was about to chance such a hasty opinion of a woman he had barely spoken to. Moments later she remembered the incident at the Palace, or rather remembered the patience and ingenuity he was capable of when he sought to make a comeback and her gaze softened, instead filling with silent understanding when Octavien peered in her direction, wordlessly confirming her support.

When the Prince uttered a subdued "You think I'm being silly", Joséphine had to bite her tongue in order to prevent herself from speaking. Perhaps due to the fact that she was familiar with his dilemma, perhaps instilled in her by having had her suspicions confirmed or maybe even because of the strange feeling of relating to Octavien in a more profound manner, a feeling not unrelated to a certain magnetism that persisted between the two of them, Joséphine was seized by the urge to comfort him, as best as she could, to tell him she did not think he was being silly.

"You are about to marry a woman who would make most men go green with envy,” César continued unabated, clearly not registering his friend's genuine discomfort, “and all you can look for, are faults. No, why would I think you're being silly?"

Joséphine knew César wasn't malicious in his jibes and only sought to get back at Octavien for having left him momentarily speechless before, but couldn't help giving him a flash of a severe glance: enough was enough, it had clearly ceased to be a joke for Octavien, who was conspicuous by his subdued silence. It was then that the words that itched to come out made their way past Joséphine's lips:

“Beauty often causes vanity”, she began and hesitated an instant as though debating whether to go on or not, before taking the plunge and continuing on an increasingly vehement tone, aware at the back of her mind that she was taking César's words too literally and yet not caring for the moment, “refined manners help conceal one's true intent and a clever tongue may be the mark of a scheming mind! Equally, despite not being old, she is quite advanced in age for an unmarried woman, particularly one of such high birth, which begs the questioning of reasons! I think Octavien has every right to be wary, at least until she proves herself as a friend!”

Joséphine's speech ended abruptly, her cheeks flushing scarlet at the mortifying realization of how hotly those last words had been spoken, painfully aware of both men staring at her while she appeared suddenly preoccupied with the folds of her gown. She dared not glance at César, afraid of what she might discover in his expression: confusion perhaps, maybe amusement... or if he had somehow been made aware of the hidden emotion which lurked inside, a forbidden feeling she had vowed to suppress and which kept resurfacing at the most uncomfortable of times. As for Octavien...

Each second that ticked by made the silence seem more and more dreadful, Joséphine growing desperate for it to end. Ignoring the rapid poundings of her heart, she steeled herself and abandoned the contemplation of her lap, reaching for her nearly empty glass of wine. Raising it the air, toasting fashion, she looked César straight in the eye as a small, playful smirk emerged on her lips:

“Speaking from experience, I suppose” she said on the best casual tone she could muster. “I recall fearing you might be a brute before marrying you, mon cher.”

Eyes narrowing with mischief, the Marquise sipped the last of the wine and added: “Perhaps I wasn't entirely unfounded in my fears.”

To conceal the unease with which she awaited a reaction, Joséphine grabbed the wine bottle to pour herself some more, discovering it was empty. A quick inspection of the baskets relinquished no better results either.

“Have they only brought us one bottle?” she asked in surprise, momentarily discarding all other concerns.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Avara, Elektra, where are you guys? :blink:

Alissa - I hope this works, what I said about Elena and Bella's meeting etc. Lemme know if not. Also, sorry if it's fuzzy at the end I was getting tired and distracted.))


Elena and Bella - The Orangery

As someone who held a host of secrets jealously locked within the dark confines of her mind, Elena would often recognize the tendency in another. It was that subtle, guarded air, the apparent commonplace, sometimes even spotless history of what their life was and has been, which when regarded as a whole held the distinct after-taste of concealment, how certain questions were met with the same evasiveness. Of course, Elena was convinced that everyone had something to hide, and there was no such thing as innocence, but some concealed more than others and every so often such a case would pique her curiosity and, perhaps, interest.

That had been the case with Isabella Devine, Bella as she commonly found herself addressed as, a French baroness journeying through Spain when the two women became acquainted during a social event they were both attending at the time. From the very beginning, something about the girl intrigued Elena enough to make an effort and speak to her: the name, for once, with its Italian resonance, carried by someone claiming to be French. That in itself wouldn't have necessarily been too peculiar, but it provided the first bout of interest, later growing into mild curiosity when notified that young Baroness Devine travelled alone, without the company of a gentleman, pater or husband. Now that, was not something she encountered every day! In fact, as Elena discovered during the conversations which ensued, Bella was unmarried and following some manoeuvring on her part, that status included unofficially orphaned since the mysterious disappearance of her father, Baron Devine. The young woman confessed to her father's taste for long journeys, but as it turned out the most recent such odyssey had spanned many months, leaving Bella with no other choice than to administer the Devine estates herself in the Baron's stead. Until his return, of course. As stated before, Elena had a sense for duplicity only someone intimately acquainted with it could develop, and attempting to deceive her was a potentially dangerous venture; therefore, when the matter of Bella's past and ancestry emerged into focus, that tell-tale vagueness replacing the clear cut facts one was eager to keep secret accompanied them: from what she had been able to gather through alternate means, Baron Ashton Devine was truly a Duc whose title had been revoked for unknown reasons, the details surrounding the mystery conspicuously missing from the account. It was a most interesting find, one that fully concerned his daughter and more recently, Elena. For, while she could not outright query Bella over the matter which was clearly a rather delicate and obscure one, she did however find a means of using it to her advantage. Their eventual association was one unpredicted even by Elena, but when the possibility arose she had been most eager to seize it: Bella agreed to return to France and travel to the Royal Court where she would conduct some...reconnaissance regarding its ins and outs and, specifically, Prince Octavien Lahance, Elena's husband to be. In return, she would devote part of her resources and man power to the search for Baron Ashton Devine. Bella's suspected secret acted as leverage, an insurance of loyalty of sorts. Deal concluded, the women parted ways which weeks later brought them together once again, then and there in that quiet Orangery.

Watching Bella pass through the door and react to her voice, Elena noted the brief flinch, and her momentary hesitation, enforcing what she had observed moments earlier. Her khol-lined eyes narrowed briefly, flashing ominously: this uneasiness would not happen to be related to not having kept her part of the deal, would it? But no, Elena would not jump to conclusions just yet, not when facts were within her grasp.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Excellency,” Bella greeted and executed a graceful curtsy worthy of a bashful ingénue “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

An affirmative nod and a thin smile constituted Elena's response, an indication that endless protocol belonged behind the Palace walls and they were both aware of why they were there, in case Bella wished to pursue that path of conversation further. Watching the younger woman, Elena was reminded of why she had really decided to strike a deal with her: opportunity had played a role, yes, but underneath lurked the mutual recognition of a clever and cunning mind: they were both women who successfully fulfilled masculine roles while struggling with the added burden of disguising that very fact, and both had the nerve to fight for what they wanted. Elena preferred to wear the mantle of august superiority while Bella so successfully played the harmless girl, roles that fit them like a silk glove, a complex mixture of genuine characteristics and intentional deceit. Effective, and dangerous.

“And we both know fortune favours those who help themselves,” the Comtesse pointed out and for a moment the cunning woman behind the façade emerged. To this, Elena gave a smile which was half amused, half appreciative: well, good for her, considering the good Baron Devine could have been in China for all anyone knew, she could hardly rely on him to repair the damage done to her social status. Still, the girl had been at the Court a mere few days, and Elena could envision only two possible ways she might have “helped herself” to her new title: either a generous “donation” to the Crown, or a recent favour from someone extremely highly placed. For the moment, both were viable options.

“Clearly, you have done so admirably” Elena continued on a somewhat sly tone, “how does life at Court agree with you otherwise? Anything...noteworthy to mention? So many new acquaintances, I'm sure.”

Always the one to skip to the solid facts, Elena gave the signal to commence business. Taking the guise of casual conversation, it was less restrictive than a direct request to recite a list of rigid facts, allowing Bella to choose her own pace. In this case, Elena wanted to give the impression of freedom instead of cornering the girl even more than she already had by summoning her. Body language, mannerisms, all the involuntary hints of underlying emotion interested her as much as the actual words, adding to the overall picture she hoped would emerge.

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: I'm pretty sure I started rambling at some point, so do let me know if I've made no sense at all. Hope this works out for you!)))


From the moment she met Elena – even before the façade had been dropped – Bella had had it in her mind to be careful around the woman. There was that edge, the unsettling yet inspiring quality to her that placed her a cut above most women of her time. All admiring aside, basically Elena was dangerous as she was powerful, her word being the sine qua non in her estates in Spain and the rebellion yielding rather catastrophic results. Well, good luck, Octavien.

So, there it was, the need to control everything and everyone around her. With Bella now working for her, it was more than assured that she’d want to know what it was that Bella wanted. Yes, there was her half of the deal, finding Bella’s father, but the younger woman knew Elena would look beyond the idea of a loving daughter looking for her father. Any lies and dress-ups that Bella had offered would have been pushed aside in preference to Elena’s own theories. She’d no doubt asked around, found out about the Duc/Baron issue and God only knew what else and it’d be a matter of time before she figured it out. Was it just hope to think that she’d only become that interested in Bella’s familial issues if the latter decided it’d be a good idea to misbehave? Or was it going to be Elena’s ploy to drain the situation dry to her advantage?

Either way, her chances of finding out what exactly the grand secret entailed were quite slim. She didn’t know the right people, the main person who would have blabbed was dead, as was the crux of the entire problem and everyone else knew to keep their mouths shut. Yet, it was Elena and there was always that risk that she’d find a way. If and when she did, she wouldn’t tell. She’d probably use it to wield more power over Bella. Hence, the antidote was to find something on Elena. Problem was that the woman played her cards too close to her chest.

It was past difficult to discover the secrets of someone who said so little and thought so much about what little they did end up saying. Such was the case with Elena. Nothing passed her lips without thorough scrutiny. Nothing was ever uttered that might actually reveal any personal information about her. Nothing. It was frustrating, to say the least. Well, then, alternative methods had to be implemented. She had to give Elena the impression that she always had the upper hand, regardless of what Bella knew. It was in hope again, that Elena would be in her element somewhat and thus perhaps lower her guard. If that didn’t work, at least it kept Bella safe from her wrath and fine, she could speak as little as she wanted, her body language would have to suffice.

One implementation of such a tactic was now, when Bella had waited for Elena to signal when she wanted to discuss things. And there it was, the subtle nod, the mild disapproval of Bella’s indulgence in dreary cordiality between two women who were breaking a worrying number of those rules. Treachery, spying, deceit and this would all probably lead to conspiring against the crown at some point. Then there was that small smile that had emerged when Bella had decided to lift her painted veil and attempt to converse with Elena as they both really were. The other woman disliked the masquerade as much as Bella disliked having to constantly play the part.

“Clearly, you have done so admirably,” were the words Her Excellency had responded with, the inferences made by her own cunning mind unmistakable in the tone. “How does life at Court agree with you otherwise? Anything...noteworthy to mention? So many new acquaintances, I'm sure.”

And thus it begins.

Regardless of how much leverage Elena had in this situation, Bella wasn’t about to just hand over what she had to trade without knowing that Elena had fulfilled her part of the deal. In any case, that was the point of this whole clandestine issue, Bella didn’t want to risk decapitation simply because she had little else to do with her life. And on the other side, Elena would respect her little if she found herself under the impression that Bella was somewhat a ditzy little girl; she’d then find good reason to make the younger woman dance to her tunes in a more overt way. Right now, as it was with Elena keeping her gloves on, it was much better.

“Oh, only the usual, various courtiers and our... illustrious Prince,” Bella replied with a wily tone of her own to match Elena’s as she glided towards the other woman slowly. It was a promise of things to come, seeing as Bella had gathered more than adequate information to fulfil the quota of the three days she’d been here. On top of all that, she had in fact made Octavien’s acquaintance, which did elevate her chances of continuing to discover more about him. Although, given their current surroundings, the tightness in her shoulders just refused to leave despite her minor triumph in her and Elena’s deal. Better that it was there because it was currently keeping her from sprinting for the door. “…. But I'm sure I'm not the only one to have made interesting acquaintances, your Excellency?”

It was said as one friend would to another after a holiday; ‘Yes, I’ve done all this and had so much fun, but you must have had such a good time too!’. Except Bella’s question had been regarding her own interests that lay in Elena’s capacity and she expected the other woman to have kept up her part of the deal. If not, she was better out of this association with Elena before things became… acrimonious.

[AtropaMandragora]

If César had been harsh and unsympathetic in his response to Octavien's apprehensions regarding Elena and his impending marriage to her, Joséphine was turning out to be quite the opposite. As the sarcasm poured out of her husband's mouth and Octavien felt himself shrink ever so slightly, much like a child being scolded, Joséphine met his gaze in the brief glance he cast in her direction, and during those few moments it lasted, she somehow managed to offer him enough support to strengthen him, leaving him reassured that she for one could understand his concerns, and that for whatever reason, César seemed to be intentionally critical of the same, instead of being open to his friend's thoughts on the matter, as Octavien had expected he would be. Perhaps that was why the young Prince felt so vulnerable and uncomfortable, being questioned like that; because he had counted on César's understanding. Not his confirmation exactly, that Octavien should indeed be as apprahensive, but at least some sign that regardless of whether it made sense or not, César could understand where Octavien was coming from.

Instead, it was Joséphine who proved to be not only the most supportive one of the two, but the only supportive one. It would seem the understanding Octavien had been looking for in César mostly, man to man and friend to friend, arose in her instead, so much that César's failure to understand seemed to downright upset her, to the point were her emotions seeped through in her voice as she seized the moment of Octavien's subdued silence and César's jeering one to speak her mind;

"Beauty often causes vanity", she started and then paused for a moment, before continuing in a tone of voice that grew increasingly fierce with every word; "Refined manners help conceal one's true intent and a clever tongue may be the mark of a scheming mind! Equally, despite not being old, she is quite advanced in age for an unmarried woman, particularly one of such high birth, which begs the questioning of reasons! I think Octavien has every right to be wary, at least until she proves herself as a friend!"

A long and above all surprised silence followed in the wake of that passionate statement, as César and Octavien both simply looked at her, each rendered temporarily mute for their own personal reasons. César for the obvious ones of pure surprise at having his wife practically tell him off like that, speaking with far greater gravity than he himself had, something he had expected her to know, and Octavien too. And in Octavien's case, it was a matter of relief at having someone understand him, and acknowledge his concerns, as well as surprise at witnessing the fire with which Joséphine did so, opposing all her husband's simple and rather superficial observations with iron-clad logic. Like Octavien, she didn't see whatever pleasant traits displayed at a first meeting as any guarantee that they were genuine and pure, and not subject to change once charades were no longer a necessity, no longer possible means to an end. She understood, and she sided with him against her own husband. Octavien simply could not help but feel his heart swell with warmth and affection for her, for her compassion, so obvious to him in the words she had spoken in his defense, but also in the look in her eyes. And it occured to him then; his mistake at thinking César would be the one to truly understand, when it was Joséphine who knew better just what exactly Octavien was going through. Her marriage had been an arranged one as well, and while César was indeed part of it and had known little more about Joséphine than she had about him, he, as a young man, had had the privilege of being able to refuse the marriage, without the consequences of doing so being all too dire, should he have found her the least bit displeasing, even through rumours, whereas Joséphine, as a girl and one of slightly lower rank at that, had not had the same freedom. Just like Octavien didn't have much freedom now, to refuse a marriage he didn't want, lest he'd be deemed an 'inconvenience' and somehow disposed of as such, or worse, betray what he held so very close to his heart; loyalty towards his country, and the royal family. In fact, the latter was probably more of a reason for him to not openly object or somehow cause rifts between the royal family, and Her Excellency and the Spaniards, than the suspicion of what fate might have in store for him if he did. He had a powerful ally in Queen Isabella, who knew quite well how to handle Edouard and make him see things her way, so the threat of being sent away as a 'diplomat' to some far-away Godforsaken continent, was not as great as it would have been, had he not had Isabella on his side. And if all went well, he'd soon have the King himself there asw ell.

No, what kept Octavien from rebelling, was what he had in him; his sense of honor and loyalty. At this point, he regarded it as as much a curse as he did it a blessing, for while it had taken him as close to the top as anyone could ever hope to get, it had also left him marred by experiences and troubles he would have been happier not having to cope with at all. Such as the one of being faced with a marriage to yet another woman whom he didn't trust.

Yes, Joséphine did indeed understand his dilemma and his fears, and the way she chose to express them, opposing César in the process, truly filled Octavien's heart with warmth towards her. A warmth he had felt before, yet this time it was different somehow. Different, in that the affection running through it had grown, to the point where it now intermingled with that other intangible... something that sometimes stirred within him when his gaze locked with hers, so tightly entwined that he was no longer sure he could tell them apart...

"Speaking from experience, I suppose", came Joséphine's voice again all of a sudden, breaking the silence that had settled between the three of them following her minor outburst, and dragging Octavien back from his inner musings. "I recall fearing you might be a brute before meeting you, mon cher."

Still addressing César, her tone was now far more relaxed than before, and mischief was sneaking into her words, causing a slight smirk to curve her husband's lips, as César took it to mean that she had now realized her mistake in going at him, and that while his own words might have been rather poignant, they had been nothing to get so riled about, as his intention had been to provoke thought, not hurt. According to him, Octavien was being far to glum about this whole thing. After all, a wife such as Elena Sánchez would look good on him - socially as well as politically - and if they ended up not getting along, then Octavien could just find some other woman that pleased him more to share his bed and his days. He was the Prince, after all, and so he would be practically expected to take a mistress. At least. All royals did.

"Perhaps I wasn't entirely unfounded in my fears", Joséphine added with a slight smirk of her own, almost as though she had heard the thoughts going through her dear husband's mind at that precise moment.

The ironic curve of her lips soon vanished however, replaced with surprise at finding, after a quick search, that they were already out of wine, and - yet again - before César had the chance to retort.

"Have they only brought us one bottle?" she asked, with a look on her face that drew a light laugh from her husband.

Had he had a witty reply to her playful gibe on the tip of his tongue, it was now gone, retreating to make way for another, born out of this recent burst of amusement. She just had provided him with such a golden opportunity, he simply couldn't pass it up.

"I guess they didn't take you into account, my dear", he grinned, flashing her a teasing look.

However, clearly Joséphine wasn't the only one to desire more of the delectable wine, since with that, César himself reached to look inside each of the two baskets, only to come to the same conclusion as she had seconds earlier; there was indeed no more of it to be found.

"Well then", he said, as though he had just reached a decision, and he pushed himself up, out of his comfortable position on the blanket, in order to stand. "Part brute I might be. That, I shall admit. But, a complete brute, I am not. As thanks to our exalted friend here, we can not ask a servant to be so kind as to fetch us some more, I will take upon myself this chivalrous task, so that my darling wife will come one step closer to having all that she could possibly desire."

Now firmly and steadily on his feet, he gave an elegant bow, which he still somehow managed to make seem not completely serious.

"Marquise, Your Majesty", he said, flashed them both another grin, and was off, leaving Joséphine and Octavien to watch as he disappeared further and further away.

Sitting in silence at first, Octavien soon felt as though it was starting to turn into that rather uncomfortable one, that had once seemed to rule the air between himself and Joséphine when alone, and so he turned to her with a faint smile on his lips.

"Thank you", he said softly, with the warmth he had felt for her when she defended him against César's gibe seeping into his voice, despite him not having meant for it to. "I'm glad to know not everyone thinks me to be as unreasonable and censorious as César will have me seem."



(((ooc: I didn't bold all names all the time, because frankly, there were so many it would be hard on the eyes to read it if I had.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Marie-Elisabeth isn't occupied :) She's approachable))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: YES Yes i am! *waves hand around* She's just wandering round the grounds and gardens with Charles, feel free to come talk to her)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Elena coming soon. Also, I know I owe some posts in the Bloodlines thread as well, I will get to them, I wanted to start with these before evening comes. I hope it's ok.))

Joséphine with Octavien and César - the Lake


It was not a common occurrence for Joséphine to remain silent when made the target of César's many witty remarks, and an even rarer one not to feel the slightest impulse for a retort. And yet, within the span of several short moments, both situations rapidly sequenced one another: the young Marquise could not help but feel a tremendous relief when her husband appeared to have entirely missed the underlying implications of her passionate comment and interpreted her subsequent fallback onto witty humour as a recognition of her own mistake. Essentially, he was not entirely mistaken, she had indeed wanted to smooth things over, to swiftly close the door to that secret corner of her heart which her words had threatened to expose, before it wrought irreparable damage. For once, César's famous tendency to perceive things from his own perspective proved a blessing for the young Marquise.

"I guess they didn't take you into account, my dear", César challenged teasingly following Joséphine's comment about the wine, which earned him a small, thin smile from his wife. If he believed he had won the round, chances were he would not try to return to it. Nonetheless, they truly had drunk all the wine, prompting César to abandon his comfortable spot on the blanket and propose he did something to rectify the situation.

"Well then", he began "Part brute I might be. That, I shall admit. But, a complete brute, I am not. As thanks to our exalted friend here, we can not ask a servant to be so kind as to fetch us some more, I will take upon myself this chivalrous task, so that my darling wife will come one step closer to having all that she could possibly desire."

With a last, slightly comical bow and a wide grin, the Marquis departed in search of the said wine, a stark silence settling in his wake. Alone with Octavien, Joséphine's embarrassment returned and a soft rosy flush stole across her cheeks: did he believe her outburst to be comical, foolish, even inappropriate?...

"Thank you", the Prince said with such warmth Joséphine could feel the heat rising in her face, and a void slowly gaping into the pit of her stomach, "I'm glad to know not everyone thinks me to be as unreasonable and censorious as César will have me seem."

She could not help it, the fact that Octavien not only did not condemn her for opposing her husband or speaking her mind in a way deemed unseemly for a lady, but recognized the support contained in her words and appreciated it produced a thrill of guilty pleasure deep inside her, the tingling sensation of a hundred butterflies spilling out of that void which remained open in her gut. Slowly, Joséphine raised an apologetic gaze, an an uncertain smile blossomed on her rosy lips:

“César means no harm,” she said quietly, an assurance directed equally at herself and Octavien, “If he seemed to think you unreasonable and censorious, it is because in his view, marriage, love, trust and understanding do not necessarily have to be mutually inclusive and, even if they happen to be, a man always has the benefit of...alternatives.”

Joséphine fell silent and eyelids descended heavily over her eyes, in an attempt to conceal the bitterness welling in them: it was the closest she had ever come to acknowledging that she knew of César's affairs, possibly close enough to leave no doubt in Octavien's mind. There was a strange conflicting feeling in that thought: part of her felt relief, another wallowed in dread.

“I am sorry” she whispered, drawing courage from her own boldness, the tips of her fingers subconsciously creeping towards Octavien's hand which lay mere inches apart, “I did not mean to be so glum, and I truly hope you and Her Excellency will find happiness together. It is simply that, I...know...what it is like to face a union to a stranger, not having a choice, or knowing whether they are friend or foe. It is...very lonely.”

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena and Bella - The Orangery

Corruption was only one of the many sins interwoven with power and influence: where one was present, anyone with a brain capacity larger than a gnat's would invariably expect the other. Likewise, overconfidence was also often associated with both former characteristics, born out of the knowledge of having almost limitless resources at one's disposal, a reputation that inspired both respect and fear, of being able to use both in ways ordinary people could only dream about.

Susceptible to both, one of the things Elena used to temper her predilection to believe herself nearly invincible was her innate suspicion and caution towards everything and anyone. Granted, while she resided in Spain at the very heart of her family's estates, she was virtually untouchable and often behaved as such, protected not only by her own cunning machinations, but the influence her father wielded. That was no longer the case: there, in France, Elena had only herself to depend on, and mistakes were inadmissible, not to mention dangerous.

Therefore, while she counted on Bella's cooperation with a good amount of confidence, Elena remained aware she herself was currently in a delicate situation. Not as much as the younger woman, whose lower rank and circumstances currently placed her at a disadvantage, but delicate nonetheless, should the truth emerge to the surface. Of course, Elena had always avoided giving compromising indications to Bella, even their current conversation assuming the guise of friendly exchange of impressions . Then there was the fact that no-one knew they were acquainted, and the whole thing was likely to attract unwelcome reactions if uncovered, and only a complete fool would fail to recognize their association for what it truly was.

It was one of the many reasons why Elena was very eager to lay the matter of Octavien's intelligence to rest.

“Oh, only the usual, various courtiers and our... illustrious Prince,” Bella responded, and Elena's eyes flashed with sudden interest. So, she had met Octavien. Good, she was certainly looking forward to her impressions of him. “…. But I'm sure I'm not the only one to have made interesting acquaintances, your Excellency?”

Elena had deliberately avoided mentioning her part of the deal in any way, simply to see how long Bella would wait before saying something, and how much she was willing to disclose without the assurance she would receive the promised payment for her efforts. She did not believe the girl to be an idiot by any stretch of the imagination, but as ever, Elena liked to assess people time and time again, in different circumstances. A wry curl of her velvety rubicund lips and a slight arch of her well-defined eyebrows reflected her reaction to Bella's subtle but firm demands, acknowledging the spirit with amusement and a tinge of approval: it was an ally she needed, not a brainless crony, someone who could carry themselves and their hidden purposes in high society without blundering the first time someone posed a difficult question. Juanita was an excellent henchwoman, and a fanatically loyal one at that, but she was crude and uneducated, a servant. Bella on the other hand was an aristocrat, someone who could gain access even to someone as esteemed as a Prince.

“Much of the same, yesterday evening has been particularly memorable. However, more interestingly still I have been corresponding with some older acquaintances who wrote to me about their travels. They had some intriguing news from across Europe” Elena said and reached inside the folds of her dress, producing a sealed envelope. She did not give it to Bella yet however, a silent indication that she would do so once she had her desired information. “So, do tell...how did you meet my future husband? What do you think of him?”

[Ghanima Atreides]

It is now Evening for our courtiers!

[Alissa888]

Life was a fine line and living it well was the art of tightrope walking. Of course, if you’d already fallen from grace, there was no line to walk and thus you could stumble around drunk all you wanted. However, any life worth living was a fine line. Granted, for some, the line was broader you ample space to make your mistakes and anneal the plans you made. For others, it was twine, thin and treacherous. Either way, sobriety was much recommended.

If there was ever a sobriety inducer on God’s green Earth, it was Elena, especially if you were involved in a rather delicate affair with her. Such was the case with Bella. All the right reasons, all the compulsion and all the advantages aside, it was a dangerous, potentially devastating endeavour. Fortunately, it applied to them both. However, unfortunately, the effects were likely to be more pronounced in Bella’s case.

Thus, Bella had to dance to Elena’s tunes more than the converse. The Spanish noblewoman with her higher status and soon to be even higher power, was more protected, from almost every angle. And she most probably knew it. However, she must have also known that she wasn’t completely protected, just as Bella teetered on the edge of the wolves’ den, Elena wasn’t that far behind.

Thus, Bella’s advantage. The assurance that Elena wouldn’t backtrack on their deal because there were consequences for her as well. Hence, within limits, of course, Bella could assert her demands in their little agreement. The dangerous element in that was the fact that someone else could so easily strike Elena’s interests. Yes, she probably knew full well that she’d simply seen the tip of the iceberg when it came to Bella’s capabilities, but if the Comtesse proved too difficult, Her Excellency would simply favour another, leaving Bella much like a jilted lover. Hence, Bella had to keep Elena more than simply satisfied.

However, Bella could not, in any quarter, prove to be a push over, manipulated easily by Elena, regardless of the short term benefits for the long term implications were likely to be very, very bad. The smallest inclination of submission, Elena would get ideas and push the boundaries, deciding that perhaps Bella wasn’t that difficult to wield at all and then there would be no difference between Bella and dear Juanita. So no, Elena had to be reminded, constantly, that Bella was a collaborator, not a servant. Thus, Bella had to always incite that undertone of appreciative respect from Elena.

With Bella’s previous statement, it had been realised. And apparently appreciated, the small inkling of a smile upon Her Excellency’s crimson lips, and yet no warnings, to put Bella in her place, to show her who exactly held the reins in this journey. Not yet. Was she giving Bella enough rope to hang herself with?

“Much of the same, yesterday evening has been particularly memorable. However, more interestingly still I have been corresponding with some older acquaintances who wrote to me about their travels. They had some intriguing news from across Europe,” Elena’s words and their underlying meaning rung loud and clear to Bella as the other woman produced an envelope from the pockets of her dress. Ah, was that Bella’s payment? “So, do tell...how did you meet my future husband? What do you think of him?”

The words almost drifted past unnoticed while Bella’s eyes remained on the envelope, Elena’s current leverage against her. Holding it in sight but out of reach, so that Bella knew Elena had what she wanted. Did she know where he was? Had they found him? More importantly, would Elena actually tell her if they had found him or would she reveal the trail, slowly, giving enough time to get what she wanted from Bella? Her rose lips parting to draw a deep breath as she peeled her reluctant eyes from the envelope, raising the sunrise eyes back to the other woman to fulfil her part.

Right, this was how it was going to work then. For every shred of information that Bella gave Elena, there had to be something that Elena returned to interest Bella to give more. They were going to play by the Law of Reciprocity. Granted, this was going to be a game that Elena wasn’t going to like one little bit. However, she couldn’t very well complain about it if she didn’t know she was playing it. The problem was, it was incredibly difficult to deceive Elena. Hence, the game will be played, but as subtly as possible, for Bella had more than enough information on Octaiven to make her fill for the night. Question was, did Elena have enough ammunition?

As for how Bella had come to meet Octavien, well, she wasn't going to reiterate the real story, simply because it was rather embarassing that she hadn't known it was him.

"Oh, you know, it's a small court, people run into each other," she inconspicuously explained off, with an incipient smile and a wily flicker in her eyes. Elena was more than welcome to figure that Bella had diligently planned the whole thing.

“He’s certainly a remarkable man, Your Excellency,” she commented, with a slight inclination of her brow to indicate what she really meant. Yes, he was remarkably far from arrogant for someone in his position, that wasn’t what she meant. Oh, no, according to what she’d seen and heard, apparently he wasn’t quite the innocent. Well, for starters, regardless of his reasons, he’d deceived Bella when they’d first met. “To an extent where one has to appreciate his remarkable mind.”

“However,” she carried on, a slight change in tone, less appreciative and more contemplative, as she interlaced her fingers, her eyes still on Elena. “He does seem rather… perturbed by some rather alarming recent events….”

There was that sly look on her face, the signal that this was something that Elena really wanted to know about. But first, back to Elena’s turn in their little game:

”Forgive me, your Excellency,” Bella gave a small sigh and raised her almost entirely innocent gaze back to Elena. “I do have a tendency to digress. I’m afraid I’ve given you no opportunity to participate in conversation?”


(((OOC: Hope this works, Ghanima? Also, she's still a little on egde (tightness in shoulders etc) because she's in the Orangery of all places, so she's not entirely a happy bunny. Just couldn't find a way to include it properly in the post :D)))

[AtropaMandragora]

It was destined to happen. Two young people sharing a deep throbbing ache they had no choice but to conceal as best they could - one made a victim of loyalty, and the other of love, and neither of them able to act against those feelings - and finding themselves in what was perhaps the most romantic of settings for miles around, with the sun of spring gently descending across the sky, painting the lush surroundings with an ethereal rosey hue reflected in the rippled facet of the lake... The mutual and so very dangerous ambiance of attraction between them, so forbidden, and so intoxicating, currently further fuelled by wine, and by each of them finding themselves at a time of such emotional strain, and knowing the other was going through much the same thing... It was as classic as it was natural.

When Joséphine's fingertips brushed against his own, Octavien's gaze dropped, watching how the touch seemed to awaken his hand to a life of it's own, slowly turning over for his fingers to gently grasp hers. Such a simple sign of friendship reassured, and yet at the same time, so electrifying he barely even heard the words she spoke.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had, for the mention of 'Her Excellency', of Elena, his wife to be, might have roused him from that slight daze, and made him pull back, retreat, once again faced with what for a moment he had found an escape from, when raising his gaze back up to meet with Joséphine's; reality. Plain and simple. Reality, and all the problems it currently held for him.

Joséphine, it seemed, was overcome by something similar. Like him, she kept looking into the eyes opposite her own, seeing in them so much of what she understood and could relate to, and like him, she drew nearer, as though something in them urged them to look closer, in search of what they really, truly sought, but did not know.

When their lips finally met, in a sense of understanding shared, of wanting to give and to be given comfort, it was in a kiss so fleeting the touch was barely there. And yet they felt it, they both felt it, for it seemed to ignite something deep within each of them; those dark, glowing embers hidden away and all but forgotten for such a long time, until just the other day. It drew them into another kiss, more passionate this time, but still as gentle, speaking more of what was truly ruling the air between them, and less of the hurt they shared. There was fire, burning tantalizing and warm, and there was tenderness, and compassion. And there was guilt. Slithering it's way into their minds, it was ultimately what finally made their lips part, and the both of them to pull back, ever so slightly, to gaze at one another again, in silent understanding.

But as Joséphine's eyes were drifting into focus of Octavien's vision, there appeared something behind her; a new element in the surroundings, a looming shadow that had not been there before. Upon noticing it, Octavien's gaze shifted to take in it's proper form, and suddenly he froze, eyes widening in utter horror.

Behind Joséphine, César had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and was now staring at his wife and his friend in speechless shock. The look in his eyes was that of someone who for the first few seconds of a horrible epiphany simply refused to believe what he was witnessing, and his jaw hung loose, as though just as he happened upon the scene he had been about to speak, or as though he was trying to say something, but his brain would not cooperate, and no words would come out.
Then suddenly, his mouth snapped shut, his jaws tightening with anger, and the usually bright and spirited eyes darkened to a near black. Signs Octavien knew all too well, despite having seen them only a few times before, and never aimed at himself. Until now.

"César...", he said and quickly came to his feet, as though he was about to try to explain, or prevent his friend from turning on his heel and leave before one could be made.

But no sooner had he straightened his back from standing, than César flew past Joséphine, grabbing Octavien by the collar of his coat, and slamming him up against the nearest tree, pinning him against the rugged surface, so tightly that for a moment Octavien thought he was actually about to choke him.

"My wife!", he hissed, and had his fists not already nailed the young Prince to the tree, the eyes flashing with unbridled rage would have managed to do the job just fine.

Having encountered a servant halfway back to the Palace, César had gladly left it in their capable hands to fetch more wine for the Prince and his friends, while he himself turned back to the lake, though ending up taking another route there, due to his ever-present yearning to explore his surroundings. And he returned, only to find this?! His cherished wife, and one of his very best friends, kissing?! There was not enough strength in his entire being, no amount of pressure he could apply to Octavien's slender form, to vent the anger searing within.

"César...", Octavien wheezed in his grip, his voice little more than a mere whisper.

Yet again his attempt to explain was cut short, when César jerked him away from the tree and let go, giving him a shove in the process, with such force that Octavien almost plunged to the ground. And before he could fully regain his balance, César was at him again, giving him yet another shove, and another, until Octavien finally tried to fend him off, thrusting his arms away in what was the beginning of yet another violent shove. But that only fuelled César's fury even more, and with the anger rumbling in his throat, he lunged toward Octavien, as if to tear him down; an attack that sent them both tumbling, right into the lake.

Though César didn't appear to care, or even notice. Not the water, not Octavien's attempts to get a break long enough to actually say something that might halt him, and not Joséphine's desperate outcries for them to stop. As soon as he was back on his feet in the knee-deep water, he lunged forward once again, aiming a punch at Octavien's face. Luckily, his fist only grazed the side of Octavien's jaw, and he lost his balance, as now it seemed even the water itself was trying to hold him back.

And it was then, finally, in that briefest of moments, in that split second of actual stillness, that Joséphine's urgent pleads reached his ears, and halted him.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: o.0 Is all I can say about now...okay that and maybe serves him right....but don't tell ME i said that:P

Well that and I'll try to have something up for ME soon, if anyone wants to do something with her)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine, César and Octavien - Moar Drama! at the Lake


It happened so fast, yet so slow, the whole world whirling by at incredible speed while Joséphine and Octavien remained encapsulated in a single moment that spanned all of eternity. Tears stung her eyes, blurring the vision of those familiar, handsome features that hovered so very near, unbearably close; somewhere below skin burned on skin in a single grip, flooding Joséphine's body with heat and wanting, whether to share understanding, tenderness or act on an impulse that was forbidden to them both, suppressed for so long, she could no longer tell. It intoxicated the air about them both, like the sweet fragrance of flowers carried upon the breeze, invisible threads stringing them along towards one another until their lips touched for an electrifying instant and then again, with purpose this time, tender yet keen.

It was wrong. A mere whisper, barely audible at first, insinuated itself into Joséphine's dazed consciousness, growing louder and more painful as it showed her a glimpse of César's face in her mind's eye, her lawful husband whose friend's lips she tasted for the second time. She knew it was wrong, and at the same time wanted it, she wanted to be wanted, fuelling the guilt which rose like bile in her throat, finally causing her to retreat a few inches, moistening her lips with her tongue. This time, Joséphine looked Octavien in the eye without fear or reluctance of what she might discover there in a simple, wordless exchange of understanding, until...

Disaster. It began with the utter horror flowing into the Prince's disbelievingly round eyes which caused Joséphine to turn her head around, instantly freezing at the sight of its cause: César stood several meters away, also rooted to the spot, jaw-slacked with shock. So powerful was the impact of his presence on the young Marquise that she did not scream, no gasp spilled off her slightly parted lips, not even a flinch shook her delicate frame: her limbs felt as though carved out of lead and for a couple of instants she ceased breathing altogether. Time simply stood still, soaked in pure liquid trepidation.

Then suddenly, the world regained motion, sound flooded back into Joséphine's ears as César dove for Octavien's throat, tearing him from the spot where he currently stood, nailing him against the sturdy trunk of a willow tree. This time Joséphine gasped, bringing both knuckles to her lips where she bit down hard, stifling the groan that threatened to roll off them. Horror shook her in wave after waves, and all she could do was stare, not yet willing or able to give any consideration to the consequences of this calamity, only the present moment and Octavien's safety. What if he...what if he hurt him?

Still, all fear was soon destined to mingle with anger and the compelling urge to stop the confrontation between the two men when César released Octavien from his grip and began shoving him towards the lake, seething. What guilt she harboured drew out something else, the choking, resentful realization of how hypocritical it all was, after six years of betrayal she had had no choice but to bear and keep playing the game by her husband's rules who, now that the tables were turned, discarded every last of them as though they only applied to her but not to him.

“César, stop!” Joséphine squawked after them when they reached the edge of the water, nearly stumbling over the hems of her gown as she leapt in their wake. “Please, listen to me! Stop it, stop it now! César!!”

When César lunged himself at Octavien and they both tumbled in the water, sending a cloud of spray flying around them, the Marquise gave a sharp cry of fear and fury combined. She teetered at the very edge of the lake, continuing to shout pleas after them, each second they remained unheeded fuelling the roaring flames of the anger inside until it obliterated any feeling of fear or guilt she might have had, at least temporarily. In that moment she resented César's refusal to hear her with the force of six years' worth of frustration at having her feelings disregarded time and time again in favour of his own desires, the sight of Octavien struggling to fend off his friend's attack becoming unbearable to look at. He didn't deserve this, César had no right to deny them an explanation after all he'd done, and she would no longer be ignored even then at the bitter end of the whole charade!

Her dainty features contorted fiercely, Joséphine splashed into the water after the two men, an emotional maelstrom ravaging her insides as she shoved them aside with all the strength she could muster, halting between them, gown floating around her as she glared vehemently at her husband:

“How dare you!” she spat and balled her fists so tight her nails dug painfully into her palms. She didn't care. “After all you have done to me, how dare you! For six years...six years, César, I've turned a blind eye, pretending I didn't know of all the women you bedded unscrupulously, whenever it struck your fancy, even now, traipsing around the Palace with that Comtesse, for everyone to see, under our very roof for God's sake!”

Having spoken within a single breath, Joséphine paused for an instant, deafened by the thunderous pounding of her heart that in the absence of her ruthless tirade seemed to overpower all other sound. It did not end there, though when she spoke again, she no longer shouted but infinite disdain and bitterness heavily laced each word:

“And do you know the worst of it all? Having to play the same pathetic game every time, pretend that I saw nothing, heard nothing, knew nothing...your game, César! Your rules! Do you think that because I am a woman I don't have feelings, or a brain, or that I don't see what you do? That it doesn't hurt? It does hurt, it hurts more than I can possibly explain, because you don't care, and because nothing will ever change no matter how much I bear, what I do to please you or...or, how much I love you!”

Joséphine was shouting again towards the end, though not as loudly as the first time, her chest heaving with each ragged breath she drew into her lungs. Tears streaked her cold, pallid cheeks as the words dissolved into a terse silence.

((ooc: Whew that was...intense! :blink: Hope it's ok and all that. And yes, he had this coming a looong way ;)))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: My, the rest of you are really quiet. Don't make me create another character, just to get some action.... errr.... some MORE action going here! I really have too many already. *nod*)))


A raging wildfire, roaring as it had engulfed everything in it's path without the tiniest shred of mercy and set it ablaze, suddenly squelched by a single, massive bucket of ice cold water, reducing the searing flames to mere embers fighting to stay alive under the downpour, hissing sharply, like a wounded animal, whenever struck by a single drop of moisture. Still sizzling and glowing, but no longer aflame.

That was how Joséphine's words hit César. And it was a most fitting analogy too, given how he had been so infuriated that he had heard nothing but the deafening thunder of the wrath filling mind and body alike, and seeing nothing but the face of Judas in his eruption of near murderous rage, and how now those pitch black eyes of his, still flashing with remnants of pure hatred, glared from underneath a curtain of dripping wet auburn tresses. Though what appeared in those darkened orbs more than anything, as Joséphine's own outburt tore them away from the Prince's face, was shock. Again shock, much like only a minute ago, when first he had happened upon the scene of the two of them kissing. And where before Joséphine's fingertips had dug into his chest as she seperated him from Octavien, there was now only a growing distance from her, as her words took him by such surprise that the mere force of them pushed him back a step.

"How dare you!", she'd cried out at him, with an anger nearly matching his own contorting her pretty features. "After all you have done to me, how dare you! For six years...six years, César, I've turned a blind eye, pretending I didn't know of all the women you bedded unscrupulously, whenever it struck your fancy, even now, traipsing around the Palace with that Comtesse, for everyone to see, under our very roof for God's sake!"

She knew? For a moment, that was the only tangible thought César could produce. She actually knew? And she'd known all along, since the very start? How? How could she know? He'd been so very careful, and considerate in that he hadn't flaunted his affairs like so many other men did. He'd been discreet, never kissing or fondling any of his mistresses in the open, never showing another woman any unwarranted interested while in Joséphine's company, and always giving reasonable explanations for where he'd spent the night - or the afternoon, or the evening - and why. He'd even lavished Joséphine with all the love and affection he was capable of, both vast and passionate, because of the simple reason that he still held her so very dear.

But, one might wonder, if that was truly the case, then why all the indiscretions?

The sad truth was, César's hypocrisy ran deep. With a father who himself had several affairs over the years and did not try very hard to hide them, César had been raised to believe that it was every man's privilege to not limit himself to only appreciate one woman's company and beauty. That even though one was married to one woman, and had promised before God to love and honor her, always, there was nothing fundamentally wrong in having a 'fling' on the side every now and then. And, it didn't end there. Through his father's words and actions, he'd even been led to believe that when it came to noblemen, Princes and Kings, they were nothing short of expected to take at least one mistress. It was a sign of status, of being prominent, virile and desired, and had nothing really to do with the wife.

So why then, with this firm and deeply rooted belief to support his actions, had he tried to be so very careful and not let Joséphine know about what was going on?
Well, for the simple reason of being - or so he thought - considerate. Ladies, he had learned, long before he had even met and married Joséphine, tended to see it as an embarrassment if their husbands, fiancées or, in the case of being neither married nor engaged, their official lovers, were known to be missing from their beds at night. Evil tongues rarely passed up the opportunity to strike up theories of why exactly the lover would seek the embrace of another woman, and being the target of such humiliating gossip was neither desirable nor pleasant, no matter if it was fairly common. It could cause a dwindling self-esteem in the lady made target of such rumours, and might even spur problems in the marriage itself, such as arguments or simple growing apart. That was a fate César didn't wish for Joséphine, nor for his marriage to her.

But still... Were these his only reasons? Had he not known, on some level at least, that Joséphine was too proud and independent a woman, to see her husband's indescretions as a mere embarrassment? Wasn't it even part of why he loved her; that she was not a meek little mouse who let the world and the people in it walk all over her? She was assertive and intelligent, very much capable of holding her own in any conversation, and challenge most people's notion that women were just vain and silly geese, in need of a firm hand to guide them. Thus, should César not have been at least partly aware that she wouldn't be particularly inclined to share said notion?

Not that he had a chance to reflect on all this now. His mind was still stuck on the question "she knows?", trying to fathom her awareness of something he'd honestly thought he'd managed to keep secret from her, when Joséphine continued her bitter tirade;

"And do you know the worst of it all?" she said, the brief pause she'd made having lowered her voice to a normal, albeit still very angry and biting tone. "Having to play the same pathetic game every time, pretend that I saw nothing, heard nothing, knew nothing... your game, César! Your rules! Do you think that because I am a woman I don't have feelings, or a brain, or that I don't see what you do? That it doesn't hurt? It does hurt, it hurts more than I can possibly explain, because you don't care, and because nothing will ever change no matter how much I bear, what I do to please you or... or, how much I love you!"

Still staring at her, each word struck him much like the lashes of a whip, not to mention how the tears welling up in her eyes were like daggers to his heart. He'd hurt her. He'd actually hurt her. Despite never trying to, despite never even wanting to, he'd actually caused her enough pain to draw out such anguish, such stinging bitterness in her voice, and in those beautiful eyes, usually radiating with life and humor, but now only with angry contempt.

It all made the look in his own eyes soften, to something closely resembling pained regret, and in pure reflex his hand started reaching out towards her, towards her face, to cup that tear streaked cheek, if she would let him. Though the motion had just barely begun, when a movement behind her reminded César of the third person present. Instantly, his hand froze in it's semi-raised state, and shadows filled his eyes once more when again he was made to see the whole picture, and not just his own part in it.

Joséphine and Octavien. Octavien and Joséphine Two of the people that mattered the most to him. Wasn't that twice the betrayal, compared to what his precious wife was accusing him of? He'd confided in Octavien, considered him one of his very best friends, someone he could truly count on. A partner in crime, during all their adventures and shenanigans, and one he'd trusted to keep Joséphine distracted when.... Oh god! César almost groaned out loud as the irony hit him. How many times had he asked Octavien to 'keep Joséphine occupied', like he had the other day? 'Keep her occupied'... Oh, it would seem Octavien had kept her occupied, alright!

While all this was running through his head, wave upon wave of so many different thoughts and impressions crashing over him, the look in his eyes mirrored the complete and utter turmoil within. It kept changing, softening one moment, and hardening the next, as though the feelings were running amuck in him, with such speed and frenzy that he didn't stand a chance to grasp a single one of them long enough to have it guide him through his reaction and his reasonings. Though finally, anger was crowned the temporary victor of the battle being fought, because no matter how many times César saw Joséphine's tear-filled eyes, and heard her words echoing in his mind, he still could not erase that mental image burnt into his mind's eye. The vision of her, and one of his best friends, kissing!

"Him!" he thus seethed with an indicative motion towards Octavien, so violent it sent tiny droplets of water flying from the ruffled sleeve of his soaking white shirt. "Of all people, him!"

With that, he turned to make his way back to dry land, but stopped and spun right back around when something else occured to him.

"And, I don't care?!" he spat with narrowed eyes. "I shower you with affection daily, because I do love you, more than life itself! I have never, not once, laid a finger on you, because I would never intentionally hurt you, nor could I! I side with you against my own mother, my own flesh and blood, because I know how what she says about you makes you feel! And I most certainly do not get intimately acquainted with your friends, with the people one would think you could trust! And I don't care?!"

It was far from being eloquent, far from being level-headed, and probably far from being mature, but at the moment, César couldn't care less. He was angry, he was hurt, and, he was leaving. The presence of Octavien and even Joséphine, let alone the both of them together, was more than he could bear. Therefore, as soon as he finished speaking, he shot them both an icy glare, and then turned once again, this time determined to get himself out of the lake, and, more importantly, away from it.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: I would love to post something, really I would, but everyone's sort of tied up with their own thing right now, and I've got ME wandering round the depths of the gardens with her son. So I'll probably have to wait until morning is called to post, or possibly just a wrap up the day sort of thing)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Bella and Elena - The Orangery


Shadows were descending over the Palace gardens, stealing away the light which crept among the leafy vines sprawled across the stone walls of the Orangery, fragrant rose blossoms and rhododendron bushes encircling Bella and Elena, closing in around them in a semicircle of entwined vegetation. Glancing through the window at her right, Elena could glimpse distant silhouettes of courtiers roving around the gardens, enjoying the last rays of sunshine. Neither came within worrying distance of the Orangery, confirming what Juanita had told her: the place was not a popular haunt.

An insect's buzz distracted Elena from her brief contemplation and her gaze swam into focus as it settled back onto Bella, whose frame retained the same tightness she had been exhibiting since the very beginning, most noticeable during the moments of silence that passed between them. Still uncertain of its cause and, for the moment, only mildly interested in it, Elena resumed her deceptively patient anticipation of Bella's account, when inside her impetuousness was growing: apart from wanting to know what the Comtesse had been able to find out, there was the remote thought which reminded her they had lingered there a long time, each minute that passed increasing the chances of being interrupted.

"Oh, you know, it's a small court, people run into each other," the Comtesse said dismissively, and judging by that briefest of sly flickers in her eyes, intentionally vague. Since she clearly had more to say, Elena did not interrupt her.

“He’s certainly a remarkable man, Your Excellency,” Bella continued with a suggestive inclination of her brow, “To an extent where one has to appreciate his remarkable mind.”

Oh, was he now? A slight nod and a dispassionate gaze were the only indications of the thoughts whirling behind the impenetrable barriers of Elena's mind as she pondered this. In other words, she took great care in maintaining an impassive poise, not wanting to disclose what feelings she had on the matter, for more than one reason. First of all, the fact that Bella's description of Octavien confirmed one of her secondary suspicions while it negated the first and stronger of the two. That constituted a bit of a surprise, for 'remarkable' wasn't quite what she would have dubbed her future husband, based on their one and only encounter. Intriguing, yes, but not remarkable. If Bella was right, then he had definitely underplayed his qualities, particularly those of intellectual kind – for what purpose? Most likely to test her reactions, lower her guard and learn about her, or even the beginning of a lengthy deception . Interesting. The second reason was that she did not wish to potentially influence Bella's opinions, she wanted them as unadulterated as possible.

“However, he does seem rather… perturbed by some rather alarming recent events….”

This time Elena's eyes widened slightly, sparks ominously flying out of their depths which in the growing dimness of the Orangery appeared like two lightless tunnels, irises and pupils blending into eachother.
The words 'alarming' and 'perturbed', combined with Bella's contemplative tone instantly earned the Comtesse her attention.

”Forgive me, your Excellency,” Bella drifted from the topic at hand, peering at Elena with false ingenuity “I do have a tendency to digress. I’m afraid I’ve given you no opportunity to participate in conversation?”

Previously widened, Elena's eyes narrowed and her gaze hardened as it remained fixated on the Comtesse. She was stalling. There was no other name for this sudden change of topic just when she had reached an interesting turn in conversation and the envelope with her promised reward still dangled from Elena's left hand. Did she not trust her to deliver it, or perhaps she hoped to gain a little more leverage by tempting her with the information that she sought? Or, she wished to test just how much she could gain with her story by releasing it in tantalizing snippets. Elena might have underestimated Octavien Lahance, but she knew very well what the Comtesse was capable of.

“No, Comtesse, I'm in the mood to listen,” she responded gravely: the tone of her voice was impossible to misinterpret. There was a warning in there, barely tangible, like a shiver down one's spine. “I'm lead to think your tale is bound to become more captivating still, I wouldn't want to...interrupt it. If still interested, you may then read all about a fresh lead my associates have encountered in Florence. It would appear your father has been sighted there recently. Italy, don't you find that interesting, Comtesse Devine?”

Elena flicked the envelope between her thumb and index finger, enforcing her suggestion that it did contain facts which concerned her directly, but access to which she would not gain until she fulfilled her part of the deal. The subtle emphasis on Bella's Italian surname was another subtle reminder that it was in her own best interest to be as forthcoming as possible, for more than one reason, such as the mysterious scandal surrounding her family and its origins. Of course, much of that was based on Elena's suspicions rather than tangible proof, but there was no need for Bella to know that. After all, who knew what one might come across in their search for Baron Devine? What she did want to make absolutely clear however was the fact that the offer was non-negotiable.

"Now...what are these alarming events that have His Majesty so perturbed?"

[Alissa888]

Well, she wasn’t pleased. In fact, Elena was far from pleased and one didn’t need Bella’s sharp mind to discover that.

The darkness creeping into the Orangery was not entirely derived from the disappearance of the sun, but rather from Elena herself. The ominous clouds beginning to encroach over her features as she began to almost glare at Bella. The flickering behind the eyes giving clues as to what she was thinking, that she was thinking. Of course, it being Elena in question, of course she was always thinking. Currently, however, the focus of her contemplations would most likely be Bella and her growing petulance.

Commanding herself not to pay attention to their surroundings, Bella fought in vain to relieve herself of the stress in her shoulders. She had Elena to worry about. Despite her assertions over the fact that she expected Elena to reciprocate and hold up her end of the bargain, Elena made counter assertions of her own:

“No, Comtesse, I'm in the mood to listen,” was the dry reply that Bella received. She was refusing to play games. “I'm led to think your tale is bound to become more captivating still, I wouldn't want to...interrupt it. If still interested, you may then read all about a fresh lead my associates have encountered in Florence. It would appear your father has been sighted there recently. Italy, don't you find that interesting, Comtesse Devine?”

Or was she refusing to play games? Not so much at all, it would seem. She was still offering what she was offering, simply demanding more worth for her information than Bella was currently paying. It was a glimpse into what the envelope held. He was in Italy?! That had been the first place she’d visited, given that it’d been where… everything started. Well, he obviously hadn’t called in on Duchessa Pizerio, otherwise Bella would have heard of it. Where had he gone then? And, how very dare he do this?! How very dare he do this to her whilst being alive and completely, utterly capable enough to travel?! Argh, if he really wasn't dead, she'd kill him herself.

Hence the fury fuelled compounded the tightness in Bella’s posture, soon finding another ally. Elena was threatening. She’d placed emphasis on the surname. It was a French derivative, but it had such strong Italian connections. In fact, so strong that it was frequently mentioned at court, carrying closeness to the royal family. Had she heard? Did she know?! Of course she did, she couldn’t. There was no way. Yet there was the way she held the envelope, wielding it like a knife in a way Bella could but interpret it as Elena’s weapon. That research could lead to some surprising findings. That this could turn so sour. Well, it was sordid enough to turn sour.

"Now...what are these alarming events that have His Majesty so perturbed?"

Alright then. Bella would hold up her end of the bargain, going on Elena’s subtle assertion that she had held up hers. After all, there wasn't much room to navigate around the topic, was there?

Moving closer to the other woman, her voice regressing to more of a whisper than a speech, yet carrying the countenance of two women having a simple conversation, Bella started.

“He is quite likey to be the people's Prince, it appears,” she said with a small inclination of her brow. It was Octavien's humility that led her to that conclusion. He was apparently a man not of titled upon his arrival at court, flying the flag for all those who felt that the titled nobility shunned them and was forever untouchable. Yet, despite his new found power, he had still been very modest with her when they had first met. “Well… save for a minor sector of people who decided that he wasn't good enough for the monarchy and felt the need to voice their political opinions with a dagger.”

She let a moment pass to allow Elena to soak in the information. Chances were, Octavien hadn’t told her. Given the degree of his glee the other night, he wasn’t exuberantly ecstatic about his impending nuptials and therefore was less than likely to have recounted his entire life to his bride upon their first meeting.

“He was attacked and stabbed in the arm, by a Marquess Berini, in his suite, only a few days ago,” Bella continued. “For currently unknown reasons, but I am working on it.”

There. She knew more about the Prince, of course, but not with enough certainty to discuss with Elena. Furthermore, there was the case of leverage. If it came to it, there was still much more she could tell Her Excellency.

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had to admit that the past afternoon was one of, if not the, most enjoyable she had spent in quite some time. Just being in the company of her son made her happier and the day had been spent sharing everything that had happened while they were apart. She was delighted to hear of all the progress Charles had made in his studies, and he had been thrilled to hear that she had made the acquaintance of one of his father’s fellow soldiers from back in his army days. He was rather disappointed to hear that the Duc d'Lorraine wasn’t in court at the moment, but Marie-Elisabeth assured him that she would seek him out and introduce them as soon as he returned. Marie-Elisabeth had tried not to laugh at that thought, wondering exactly how Dimitri would spin her husband’s infamous story about their capture by the English, back when said Duc was only 15 and far from the fearsome figure he was now.

The fact that there hadn’t been too many people around was an added bonus, although he had been much admired by the few people they had crossed paths with. He was so likeable and personable, especially for a child so young, that he couldn’t help but charm everyone he met. That always caused Marie-Elisabeth to smile because her myriad of family members always said she was exactly the same as a child, and that it was a quality she still largely retained.

But mother and son had largely been left to enjoy each other’s company, and time had flown by so fast that Marie-Elisabeth barely noticed how dark it had gotten until Charles tugged on her arm. “Maman” he said, looking up at her “It’s getting dark out and I’m hungry. Can we go inside for dinner now?”. “Of course my love” she said, smiling at him and taking his hand "I'm just glad I have such a dependable young man to escort me back to the palace so late at night".

"Of course you do maman" he said, grinning at her "I'm the man of the family, since papa isn't with us anymore, so it's my job to look after you. That's what Monsieur Simon says". Marie-Elisabeth chuckled and used her free hand to ruffle his hair.

"Well Monsieur Simon is very right chou d'amour, and I bet your father would be very proud of the wonderful job you're doing". Charles was all but beaming with pride at that, and she continued to smile at him as they made their way back to the palace.


(((OOC: Figured I would post something that would work as a wrap up. Unless anyone wants to run into them on their way in from the gardens, I'll jsut say they had their dinner and went to bed till morning)))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Okay, colour me a convicted spammer, but poor Jo! Cesar deserves it regardless of what he says and Octavien's kinda... lost and likely to remain that way given everything that's going on (thus, poor Octavien too, but on a different level), but poor Jo!)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine with César and Octavien - The Lake --> leaving


Joséphine had long since lost count of all the times she had envisioned that moment in her mind, the countless imagined scenarios in which she finally confronted César with the knowledge of his affairs. And yet, never before she had pictured a scene quite as strange as reality produced, herself standing waist-deep in chilly water between her husband and Octavien while accusations were hurled back and forth in a maelstrom of unleashed emotions: rage, sorrow, guilt...

Guilt. Despite her passionate tirade, and the pure, undiluted anger coursing through her veins like poison, guilt slithered its way past it, descending with the weight of a mill stone over Joséphine's quivering heart. For all the sense of entitlement she currently possessed (or it possessed her) the knowledge that she, too, was at fault, that she had twice willingly kissed a man who was not her husband showered her with the icy clarity of a bucket full of freezing water. César might have done much more and worse to her, yes, but Joséphine's conscience was indiscriminating: two wrongs do not make a right, it chided.

When César reached out a hesitating hand towards her face, Joséphine's impulse was to raise her own and touch it reassuringly, to promise all would be well from then on. They could start afresh, go back to the beginning and heal all hurts...but something stopped her. She could, and would not go back to pretending nothing was wrong, not then, when the truth was finally out in the open, not without César's admission of his own fault, or an assurance that he was willing to change. Moments later, the Marquis' hand retreated, and his eyes darkened once again.

"Him!" he spat angrily "Of all people, him!"

Joséphine's stomach plummeted as he turned to leave, watching his retreating back in hopeless silence, struggling to maintain a last flicker of hope.

"And, I don't care?!" César seethed on, halting in his tracks "I shower you with affection daily, because I do love you, more than life itself! I have never, not once, laid a finger on you, because I would never intentionally hurt you, nor could I! I side with you against my own mother, my own flesh and blood, because I know how what she says about you makes you feel! And I most certainly do not get intimately acquainted with your friends, with the people one would think you could trust! And I don't care?!"

With that, he cast both Octavien and his wife a withering glare and made his way towards the shore with wide, determined strides. Anger blazed in Joséphine's eyes once again: so, was that the way he wished to deal with her?

“Then, why?”

The words rolled off her lips before she could stop them, the one question burning in her consciousness: if he cared as much as he said, why did he seek other women's attentions? Why?

“Would you rather he had been a stranger?” she called after him, relentlessly trailing his steps. It was difficult, her water soaked garments hampered her every movement. “Don't you understand, César, that it doesn't matter? For all it's worth, it was just a kiss neither of us have planned. It...just...happened, and yes, I wanted it! Because I was angry, and lonely, and because he understood. I know...what I did was wrong, but you have no right to reproach me this, César! ”

Seized by the sudden desire to be alone, to be away from him, away from that lake, away from everyone, Joséphine turned her back without a single word and stormed off into the distance as quickly as her soaking, muddy clothes allowed her.



((ooc: So sorry for the delay and the utter crappiness of the post above, my mind is like one big pile of mush right now. Atropa, feel free to have either of your boys go after her if you want to, but since evening is almost done I figured if there's any serious conversation to be made, it will be done tomorrow or so.

Alissa - Elena coming soon, but I'm not making any promises as to when exactly. Probably tomorrow. My apologies.))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena and Bella - The Orangery



Bella, it would appear, was quite as surprised to discover that the one trace of her father's presence had been found in Italy as Elena had been upon receiving the letter. Angry, too, if one was to judge by the further tightening of her already tense shoulders, and the older woman could hardly blame her: the man had clearly left her the entire burden of his affairs and vanished off the face of the Earth. And, of course, there was Italy. Unbeknownst to anyone, especially not Bella, Elena ran a parallel investigation into the most intriguing mystery of the Devines' disgrace, which was the reason she had sent her spies to Italy in the first place. The venture had yielded irritatingly little insight, which only served to spur Elena's curiosity further: the only time information was that lacking was when someone had gone to considerable trouble to conceal it.

For the moment however, she returned her focus on Bella, awaiting the Comtesse's reaction. She did not doubt her warning hadn't gone unnoticed, which left only two possibilities: she either complied and gained the reward, or she refused and the envelope would remain in Elena's possession indefinitely.

“He is quite likely to be the people's Prince, it appears,” the younger woman continued, seemingly choosing the first option.

Elena nodded briefly, pondering this: yes, that seemed likely indeed. He had a good looks and a frank, unpretentious way about him that appealed to people, not to mention a classic endearing background: an untitled man rising to the rank of Prince through boldness and love, the sort of idea that would linger in everyone's minds, because they could relate to him in a way most could not relate to a man born, rather than made, noble.

“Well… save for a minor sector of people who decided that he wasn't good enough for the monarchy and felt the need to voice their political opinions with a dagger.”

At this, Elena drew in an ominous breath and for a moment her famous countenance faltered as surprise shone in her eyes: an assassination attempt? On Octavien? Several brand new theories immediately sparked to life in her mind, theories which would unfortunately have to wait confirmation. Regardless, the fact that someone or a group of people risked their own lives to eliminate the young Prince was highly interesting. Granted, the reason could have been as simple as finding him unworthy of royalty, but what if it wasn't?

“He was attacked and stabbed in the arm, by a Marquess Berini, in his suite, only a few days ago,” Bella continued. “For currently unknown reasons, but I am working on it.”

Marquess Berini. An Italian. So, the mystery deepened already. Why would an Italian nobleman try and stab Octavien? Were his reasons his own, or was he working for someone else? And, more importantly still, where was he now? Had he been caught, she would have heard of his execution by then.

There were many questions Elena wished to ask, but the darkness creeping across the gardens as the moon rose into the sky suggested they would have to wait. It was late, and whether she liked it or not, she needed her rest: the wedding was, after all, due the following morning. If Bella had anything else to tell her, it would have to be some other time.

“It has gotten late, we should return to the Palace,” she told Bella and cast a frown out the window. Better to avoid being seen arriving abnormally late. “We shall continue this discussion at your earliest convenience, Comtesse. This...Berini character, I want to know why he attacked my dear fiancé and what happened to him afterwards. The fact that you two are now acquainted should be of help.”

Smiling furtively, Elena extended the envelope towards Bella:

“Consider our agreement settled, for now. Although if I may say so, Comtesse, I get the impression your father does not want to be found.”


((ooc: I hope this works, Alissa? You don't have to reply if you don't want to, but I am guessing Elena will want a second talk in the future. ;)


Oh yeah and someone enlighten me on what exactly happened to Berini after he stabbed Octavien?... ))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: No, problem, I'll include Bella's reply to that in the morning post :) Also, Berini got assassinated in a carriage thanks to Dimitri, which Bella will discover soon (except the Dimitri part) and tell Elena ;) )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Thanks :D Although I also wonder how he got away in the first place.I think I'll just PM Atropa. ))

Everyone, since I won't be around to call morning later on, I'm calling it now.

[AtropaMandragora]

"Then why?"

As César was making his way towards the Palace, intent on getting as far away from the lake as possible, the desperate, heated outcry coming from his wife as she struggled against the water to follow him, saw his steady pace gradually slow to a near halt, and it almost seemed he would turn once again, and face her with an answer to her question, perhaps even a forlorn confession that he did not quite know why, as he had never actually considered his affairs to have anyhing to do with her, and thus had not thought of it as something that would hurt her if she found out. Displease her, embarrass her, maybe even anger her to a point, but never actually hurt her. It had been on the tip of his tongue seconds ago, when he'd seen the tears spill from her eyes, and now the hurt in her voice drew it right back.
But, as it had been obliterated before, by the sight of Octavien, so was it now, by Joséphine's next tirade;

"Would you rather he had been a stranger?" she continued. "Don't you understand, César, that it doesn't matter? For all it's worth, it was just a kiss neither of us have planned. It... just... happened, and yes, I wanted it! Because I was angry, and lonely, and because he understood. I know... what I did was wrong, but you have no right to reproach me this, César!"

Those were words that struck César far too hard, for his desire to make peace to stand any chance at surviving as... everything came tumbling down over him.
It didn't matter? It didn't matter that it was Octavien, one of César's very best friends, she had kissed, instead of some stranger whom César didn't know? It didn't matter that it hit César twice as hard, as not only did it rob him of his wive's undivided love, but it smothered whatever love he'd ever had for Octavien, and sent a treasured friendship spanning over a decade, into oblivion?
Oh, it mattered! It mattered a great deal! More than Joséphine seemed to realize, even though she ought to! Or was it out of vengeance that she pretended she didn't? Was it cruelty, drawn out by her need to retaliate, that had her kissing someone so very close to César, and then denying that it should hurt him more than had she kissed a stranger! For as difficult as it was for him to imagine her being that spiteful, he couldn't help but to think; if it truly didn't matter to her, then why hadn't she chosen a stranger?

Because yes, César would have rather had it be a stranger! If the choice had been his to make, then yes! A hundred times yes! A stranger, he wouldn't have to face as someone he had known for years, a stranger he wouldn't have confided in, and shared some of the best moments of his life with!
How could she not realize that?

And as for his right to reproach her... If she was capable of committing the same crime herself, as she considered him having committed against her, and if it had 'just' happened, then why did he not have the right to be angry? She apparently was no better, so while he might not have the right to reproach her, who gave her the right to reproach him, when she did the same as him? Had she confronted him, untainted by the same sin as him, it would have been a different matter, but to get back at him by doing to him what she considered him having done to her, and then claiming he did not have the right to be angry, when clearly she had gotten her revenge, and yet was still angry with him... She had done to him what he had done to her, and she had the right to be angry. He had done to her what she had now done to him, and he did NOT have the right to be angry. Why? Was the severity of her crime to be disregarded, simply because he had committed his first?

The thoughts kept racing through his mind, their sheer velocity manifesting itself in his increased pace, and as Joséphine stormed off in one direction, César marched off in the opposite one, without as giving as much as another glance towards his wife, and friend, let alone a single word in response to Joséphine's heated remark.

As always when so angry he did not quite know what to do with himself, the young Marquis immediately headed for the stables, caring little that his clothes were still slightly more than damp, not to mention his overall appearance rather dishevelled. Like Octavien, he found that a ride often helped clear his head and leave him with a chance to start his thinking fresh, from a clean slate. And boy, did he have some thinking to do.

Unfortunately, his thinking lead from one detrimental track to another, as he still simply could not erase that one thing that cast it's shadow over the entire sordid affair; Joséphine, and Octavien. His wife, and his confidant.
And so, a ride with no goal, but a purpose to help him think, slowly morphed into a ride with a goal, and a purpose to stop him from thinking; a tavern, and wine. Lots and lots of wine.

He had begun to realize that regardless of how he himself viewed or meant them, to Joséphine, his indiscretions were betrayals. So very painful betrayals. Despite not ever having meant to, he had hurt her, and that was a realization that pained him greatly.
And, it was the reason for his first and second goblet of wine.
The third and fourth, he drank in order to try and escape that visual burnt into his mind, which no matter how he tried, kept haunting him, and shoving his thoughts off of the path of reason, to plummet right back into the sea of red hot anger, and hurt. He kept coming back to it, over and over again, and each time, there seemed to be something new to occur to him, and fuel his desire to simply turn numb, to drink himself into blissful oblivion.

How long had it been going on, and how far had they gone? Did they love each other, and was Octavien only still César's friend, because of the convenience of having César himself provide him with an excuse for being alone with Joséphine, when asking him to 'keep her occupied'?
Accompanying all these thoughts, were the fifth and the sixth glasses of wine, and just as the last few drops were trickling down his throat, that's when it hit him. The possibility which the very moment it occured to him, truly broke his heart; what if his daughters were not actually his? What if for the last couple of years, he had been as oblivious as he'd thought Joséphine to be, and the two girls he loved more than anything else in this world, were not even his?

Needless to say, after that, César soon lost count of how many goblets of wine he'd had, and he stopped drinking only when the tavern keeper refused him any more. He spent the rest of the night riding around, and returned to the Palace only once dawn's first light was peaking over the horizon. By then, the cool night air had worked it's magic on his intoxicated mind, and he had sobered up enough to be hung over rather than still drunk. He'd been quite tempted to stay away even longer, as attending Octavien's wedding now was hardly something he wanted to do. But, Joséphine would be going as well, and regardless of how César felt about her at this very moment, he did still love her, and knew that if he made her suffer the humiliation of going alone, he would end up hurting her even more than he already had. And, he still simply could not bear the idea of hurting her. Not even now.
Especially not now.



(((ooc: Sorry it's extremely sucky. Not nearly as elaborate and emotional as I had hoped it would be, especially the daughters part, and the end was pretty much scribbled down to avoid having to write ooc what I intended would happen and where César would end up. I had to rush it, as I should have been in bed over an hour ago, and won't be around tomorrow. I simply felt this was my only chance to get something in for César before the wedding starts :( Might try to re-write it later, because honestly... I'm quite reluctant to post it at all. (And no, I'm not looking for sympathy or reassurance. I'm just saying it's far from how I imagined it.) )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Hush you, it's a great post! I feel kinda sorry for César, heh. Poor guy doesn't know what hit him))

-Morning Announcements-


Please welcome Marquise Marie-Elisabeth de Valois, whose loyalty shall not be forgottten!

***

As you walk into the gardens, you hear the distant harmony of violin music. A wide gravel path lined with flowers entwined with white ribbons leads you away towards the glade where over night a small army of Palace servants have toiled in preparation of the upcoming nuptials between Prince Octavien Lahance and Elena Sánchez of Spain.

It is a wide area surrounded by carefully manicured hedges and rose bushes, evenly mowed to a neat trim. Several rows of white-framed chairs with gold tapestry face an ornate arch atop a low platform, awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom. The small orchestra you have heard earlier is located inside a gazebo at the right of the assembly, while towards the left, underneath the swooping branches of blooming cherry trees a long table laden with drinks and snacks is overviewed by servants in impeccable clothes.

All noble residents of the Palace of Light and Air, relatives and companions are invited to attend!

[Slytherin-Girl]

There was only one person living, with the possible exception of her sister Caroline, who could wake Marie-Elisabeth up in the morning and not suffer some sort of horrible punishment. An avid lover of sleeping in until at least noon hour, she despised getting up early almost as much as she did spending time with her late husband’s brothers. And said only person was currently jumping up and down on the vacant side of the bed in his nightshirt, grinning and laughing.

“Maman, maman, it’s morning. Time to get up. I want to go out and see more people” Charles said, as she laughed and dragged herself into a sitting position. She looked over to the doorway to see an amused Jeanne feigning innocence at having let him in, and then she walked over and placed a letter on Marie-Elisabeth’s side table before exiting the room to leave them in peace.

“Good morning to you to chou d’amour” she said, reaching out a hand to hold his arm “But you had best stop that before you break the bed. Such a grown up young man is so big he might smash it to smithereens”.

“Yes maman” he said, grinning mischievously and doing one final jump before sitting down. He pulled himself under the bed covers and snuggled up next to her with his head on her shoulder as she stretched out her arm and picked up the letter. “After all” she said as she opened it “The Comte de Valois doesn’t jump around on beds. Or go down the halls in his nightclothes to harass his darling mother first thing in the morning”. “Of course not” said Charles, peering over her shoulder at the letter “What does that say maman, the script is all fancy”.

Marie-Elisabeth’s face broke into a huge smile as she giggled before reaching her arms around and pulling Charles into a hug. “It says Charles, that you are no longer the Comte de Valois. You’re the Marquis de Valois now”. “Really” he said, squirming out of the hug and getting back up again “Do Marquis’ get to jump on the beds”. She laughed and nodded her head. “I think a few celebratory jumps would be ok”.

He grinned and restarted his jumping as Marie-Elisabeth slid out of bed and pulled a robe on. She couldn’t have been more thrilled about the new title for her son, and of course in turn for her. She knew he was going to be even grander and more important than his father had ever been, and that this would only help him along the way. She smiled at him and warned him to be careful, before calling for Jeanne who re appeared in the doorway. “Madame la Marquise” she said, curtsying and smiling “Before you even have to ask it, of course preparations for your move to your new suite are already underway. They shall be finished by the evening”.

“Jeanne you truly are a wonder” Marie-Elisabeth said “I don’t know what I would do without someone like you to oversee things. And there is to be a room for our new little jumping Marquis as well?” “Of course Madame, the new suite has plenty of room for that. Many of your things are being moved as we speak” Jeanne replied “With the obvious exception of the things needed for the wedding today”.

“Of course, the wedding” Marie-Elisabeth said, gesturing to Charles who bounced of the bed and skipped over to her. “Charles, you had best get back to your room with Monsieur Simon now, and get all dressed up for the wedding. We can’t have an important Marquis like you go to a wedding in his nightshirt”. “But maman” he pouted "Fancy clothes are so itchy and stuffy. Do I really have to put them on? I don’t like them”.

She just smiled, well used to this familiar argument. “Yes you do dearest” she said, kneeling down to look him in the eyes, and placing her arms on his shoulders “You want to look just as grand and important as your father always did don’t you? I bet if he were here with us today he’d be dressed to the nines, just like you will be”. Charles paused to consider that for a moment before nodding his head slowly in agreement “I guess if papa would have done it, I can too”.

“That’s my boy” she said, kissing him on the cheek before standing up and ushering him to the door “You go make yourself handsome and then come back here to wait for me okay”. He nodded and waved as he left the room, while she smiled after him. “Allright Jeanne, let’s get this production underway. Lord knows we’ll be at this for ages” Marie-Elisabeth said, pulling the robe off and tossing it onto the bed.

Ages was definitely an apt description, as it seemed like Marie-Elisabeth had been dressing for hours before she declared herself ready. But of course all the preparation was necessary, it was a royal wedding and it would never do to appear in anything less than her best. The dress (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/1587099.jpg) itself was a beautiful concoction of blue silk, trimmed in delicate white lace and embroidered all over with gold threads. Blue and gold being the Valois colours, she had made sure Charles’ clothing (http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a286/hikari-schezar-bloom/Portrait_dauphin_louis_france_hi.jpg) would be the same. The blue rosettes near the hem of the dress matched those woven into her coiffure, and she of course had on her usual locket and now the delicate bracelet around her wrist. Pronouncing herself finally done, she picked up her fan and made her way into the next room where Charles was waiting.

“Maman, you look so pretty” he said, jumping up as soon as she entered the room “Even prettier than yesterday”. Marie-Elisabeth smiled and reached out her free hand to him. “Thank you Charles” she said as he took the offered hand “And you’re certainly a handsome young gentleman. All the other ladies are going to be so jealous of me having such a charming escort”.

“I bet they will, I'm the Marquis de Valois after all” he said, as she chuckled as she said her goodbyes to her maids and they made their way out of the suite hand in hand, before traversing the many halls of the palace and arriving at the gardens. She stopped for a few moments to admire the general splendour of the area, before an impatient Charles started tugging on her hand and they made their way to their seats.

(((OOC: Approachable

Phew that was long o.0 like 2 and a bit typed pages on word. Now for ME, picture the exact look the girl in the picture has, hair, dress and all, except where there’s red picture royal blue. And no silly feathers in her hair :P And the same for the outfit linked for Charles, with a gold sash instead of a blue one. Hey it’s a royal wedding, the woman’s gonna go as fancy as she can!)

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Heh, yeah. This whole thing really messed with César's head. And yey, I got home earlier than expected, and actually managed a post. Woohooo.)))


The previous day, meant to be one of pleasure and relaxation between three good friends, had been an utter disaster. The kiss that had at the time seemed so very inevitable to happen, the look of pure shock on César's face as he was made to witness it, the way anger tore through him moments later, the fight between friends, the argument between spouses... Complete, and utter disaster.

With César going one direction, and Joséphine storming off in another, the only one who had remained, was Octavien. Standing so very still, knee-deep in water, as though every word spoken over the past couple of minutes had shackled him to the muddy bottom of the lake. Head lowered, shoulders slumping, hearing nothing but the whisper of the wind in the trees, and the ethereal rhythm of the water dripping from his clothes and hair. He blamed himself for what had happened, and himself only. Despite Joséphine having kissed him as well - whether she had kissed him first or kissed him back, he didn't know - and even confessed to César that she wanted it, Octavien blamed only himself. Joséphine had a right to be angry and hurt because of everything César had put her through, and it was only human that those feelings might cloud her judgement, or incite a need for revenge. But Octavien... What reason did he have to kiss his friend's wife, other than a forbidden attraction he really ought to have been able to resist? César had done nothing to him, except maybe forced him into a couple of awkward situations now and then, and to indirectly lie to Joséphine a few times. He'd been a good friend, the best, and now Octavien might have lost his trust, all because of a foolish impulse. He, Octavien, who lately had grown increasingly bitter and cynical because others kept betraying him, had now done the same himself, and not to someone he'd had only an agreement with, but with someone who had really been close to him. To look at the fire of hatred burning in César's eyes, and knowing he was the cause of it... Guilt was a word that would not suffice to describe what he felt. It would have been the understatement of the century.

Forcing a deep breath into his lungs, and then releasing it in a deeply burdened sigh, Octavien had finally lifted his head, seeing his two friends disappear further and further away. He'd wanted to run after them both, to try and make things right, or at least make sure neither of them were about to do anything stupid, or otherwise risky. Both of them were hurt and so very upset, Octavien wasn't sure they were even thinking straight.
But, he was only one man, and thus could only go after one of them. And the matter of who, was settled within moments. One of them had made it quite clear that right now, to them, Octavien and the concept 'within reach' equalled murderous intent. Having seen the look in César's eyes, Octavien knew better than to try to follow him in his current state. It would be suicide.

The young Prince turned his head to watch Joséphine's retreating back, and the many layers of soaked fabric hampering her every move, and with another sigh, drug himself out of the lake and after her, ending up almost running in order to catch up with her. Though not surprisingly, it turned out she too wished to be left alone, and even though he was worried and thus reluctant to do so, Octavien found that it would be a poorly chosen time indeed to refuse her her privacy.

He had returned to the Palace alone. Shoulders still slouching, clothes still wet, and strands of golden hair falling out from the black silk ribbon that had used to tie them all back, prior to César's rather warranted assault. Only a two or three courtiers had seen him as he made his way through the entrance hall, and only from a distance, so it had been difficult to tell if they had recognized him or not. Other than that, the only ones to witness his dejected state of mind, had been a few servants, who as soon as they saw him had frozen for a moment in confusion at the most unexpected and unorthodox sight, but then rushed to help in any way they could; pulling the soaked coat off him, and put a warming blanket around his shoulders for the last couple of yards that had then remained until he was safely back in his suite. There, Gilles had taken over, and dismissed everyone else, making sure the young Prince immediately had a cup of hot tea, and then went straight to bed. Not surprisingly, Octavien felt as though he was being treated like the child he no longer was, but was too tired and weary-minded to object.

Not that he got much sleep. Kept awake by the events of the day that had passed, churning in his head, replaying over and over and over again, he kept tossing and turning, and when finally he did fall asleep, it was due to nothing more than pure exhaustion.

Come morning, Gilles would have much preferred to let the young man sleep, and awake only when he was good and ready, but alas... It was a big day, with a big event, in which Octavien was to play one of the two leading roles. His absence would have been most conspicuous.

Much to the older man's distress, morning light did nothing to improve or brighten Octavien's spirits. All it did was to add a slight impatience to his tone and his movements, even the look in his eyes, as though he only wished for this entire day to be over and done with; something Gilles put alot of effort into making him hide, as it simply would not do to have the Prince of the kingdom look as though he was being lead to slaughter on his wedding day, or had somewhere more important to be. Problem was, he didn't want to talk to his young master that way infront of the other servants, and so the small army of pages, manservants and whatever other people Octavien apparently needed to get ready for his big day, had to wait outside, until Octavien had managed to wipe his face clean of any expression other than... well... blankness. Only then did Gilles let the others in to assist in dressing the Prince in his white wedding suit (http://www.crimson-tale.com/Temp/OctavienWedding.jpg), with gold embroideries, a gold sash, and a golden silk ribbon to tie back his golden hair, as always, to match. The finished result was a youth looking so very regal with his straight back and head held high, shoulders no longer slouching, that had it not been common knowledge that he had not been born a Prince, none would have been able to imagine him to be anything but a true blue-blood, especially considering that expressionless look on his face, completely devoid of any emotion to show what was going on in his head. Or his heart, for that matter.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: I'm sorry, but *snicker* It has to be said. That has to be one of the ponciest suits I have ever seen in all my years of historical movie watching *snicker* It just seems so un Octavienish. Then agian my image of Octavien has a lampshade attatched to his head right now :P

It's from the man in the iron mask right?)))

[Alissa888]

Bella woke, lying awkwardly across the bed, over the covers surrounded by a mass of letters cluttered around her like autumn leaves. The sun was attacking her again, delicate, but sharp intangible arrows venturing out at her as her eyelids struggled against themselves to give her vision, sharp edges papers she’d spent the entire night mulling over. She’d only actually slept during the early hours of the morning, scarce hours of mental rest.

Apparently he didn’t want to be found, according to Elena’s discoveries. Well, tough. She was looking anyway. He had no right to just make a ridiculous confession, give her an even more ridiculously short period of time to deal with it and then take off when her response had been nothing he’d prepared himself for. Mature people just did no do such things and it was plain inexcusable from a parent, of all people. So much for his reproach of her behaviour when really, he was indulging in just about the same calibre, if not worse. How dare he?

And Italy? Italy?! Was he entirely insane? Did he care as little about it all as she had claimed to have?

However, despite all the rage and unbridled fury that culminated in Bella’s form through the night – through these past years, for that matter – there was the one fact that left them all rather neglected; he was alive. For his desire of not wanting to be found to have occurred, he had to be alive and entirely capable to pull his tricks of disappearing into the mist. He was alive and well and that’ll do for now because, regardless of the fact there would actually be hell to pay, he was her father. And for simply that, if not for the fact that he’d been an unsurpassed, most indulgent and lenient father, she loved him and she wanted him back; the punishment for his behaviour, however, would not be compromised upon.

She stirred slightly, more than fully aware of the papers littered all around her and thus any drastic movement potentially causing them damage. Her eyes wandered over to the candle stick upon nightstand that was a candlestick no more; she really had been burning the midnight oil this time. Slowly hosting herself up, locks of dark hair dancing around her elbows, she had the pleasure of discovering the crick in her neck bestowed upon by attempting to sleep without a pillow. This day was going to keep getting better.

Added to the spectacle was Grace’s form venturing into the bedroom, eyes widening impossibly at the sight of the young Comtesse apparently swimming in a sea of papers in disarray. As Bella finally sat up, shifting to lean against the pillows, Grace took it upon herself to delve into a fit of fussing over her mistress as the younger woman simply watched from a mixture of sleep deprivation and the familiarity of all this having happened before.

“How many hours?” Grace asked finally, voice ever so slightly parental as Bella struggled to even roll her eyes.

“Enough,” was the simple answer. Oh, wonderful, she even sounded ill. “I don’t think he’s in Italy anymore.”

“My lady, perhaps it’s time…,” the maid trailed off at the look of incipient annoyance in Bella’s eyes. Grace knew full well the degree of Bella’s compulsion over the matter, the fact that they’d repeated the same dance in several cities now, for what must have been the past year. Was she expected to give up now, when she had Elena’s help over the matter and worse, when Elena was likely to draw her claws to keep Bella’s services?

“It’s time when I say its time,” she asserted. With that, she lowered her head into her hands, fingers rubbing the sleepless eyes gently. “I need to go to the wedding.”

Now, if Grace was going to make any protests regarding the situation, the words caught in her throat, knowing better than to stand in Bella’s way when her mind had been so surely made up.

There were no letters from Jean-Louise and thus none from Berini. Perhaps tomorrow. Today being the wedding, there was more than ample opportunity to discover more of what she needed to know in order to keep Elena’s favour. And thus, she had to go to the wedding in order to be at the reception.

And hence, a while later, Bella had been dressed up, adorned in a gown (http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y84/Alissa888/gray.jpg) made of pale grey and vibrant marigold velvet, fit for a royal wedding and then some. When one was destined to look like they’d been the victim of insomnia, it was best to made efforts to compensate for the fact. And thus, Bella had, her clothes, her poise and her hair (http://www.hji.co.uk/hjimages/images/qhs477/hji/medium/2006-brunette-updo.jpg) done up perfectly, leaving a few natural strands to frame the soft curves of her face. Her usual poise and grace returned, though slightly dampened, and threatening to give out at any minute.

Now wasting more time in dwelling over exactly how tired she was, Bella made her way out of the palace and into the gardens, the array of guests scattered across the green, waiting for the festivities to begin.

(((OOC: Approachable – I think I should have left her in bed, she’s just generally not happy….
Poor César, poor Jo, and poor Octavien! I still think it’s all César’s fault, though :P
But he’s just… so deluded about what he’s been doing all this time…)))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: slytherin - Oh hush, it's a beautiful suit! I love it. And yes, it's from The Man In The Iron Mask (1997 version).
Alissa - Deluded by modern standards maybe, but not as much back then. *s* I'm not saying he's not at fault, because he is. But he's not a complete bastard for doing what was rather common back then. IMO. (Hey, he's my character, I have to empathize with him a little bit at least! :) ) )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: LOL hey, they're royalty, they have to be extravagant *cough* ;) I like the suit.

Jo's post coming soon, I hope! ))


It was time.

Elena's eyes opened steadily and the sight of the sheer crimson and black canopy shielding her from the rest of the room diffused into view above her. Heavy shadows blanketed her surroundings, and only the tiniest of sun rays bled over the edge of the horizon, lightening the sky to a deep navy blue, an imagery that often accompanied Elena's mornings.

Given the incredible importance of that day, and the necessity for every last detail to meet perfection, the future Princess spent even less time than usual in the comfortable embrace of feathery pillows and warm blankets, setting both aside and emerging from their midst within moments. As she padded across the Persian carpet, Elena cast a thoughtful gaze towards the bed she had just left: at the end of that day she would share it with Octavien, as a married woman. While most brides envisioned the moment with eager, or frightful anticipation, to Elena it was just another part of the plan, a necessary step that would bring her closer to what she wished to achieve. A child, especially a son, would certainly strengthen her position within the Kingdom, it would give her what not even the King had. Yet.

However, there was a different matter currently on Elena's mind: that of her soon-to-be husband, Octavien. Yesterday's conversation with Bella had instilled a new sense of suspicion in her, and even left her somewhat intrigued. Clearly, the Prince was nowhere near as simple as she had hoped, or even thought him to be. From what information she currently held, he seemed to be a congenial man, and more than just a bit clever, capable of constructing a believable façade for himself. Whether he truly was “the people's Prince” or if that, too, was a ruse, remained to be seen...in truth, Elena would have preferred an honourable man for a husband than a villain, the latter was far more likely to cause problems, and would be difficult to control. A conscience however...that she could exploit. Either way, she needed to be very careful until Octavien confirmed his true nature beyond doubt.

For the moment, there was an even more pressing issue at hand: the wedding. Much like her grand arrival and attending that very first of dinners in the Grand Dining Room, Elena wished it to be a dazzling, memorable event, the kind that would linger in everyone's minds for a long while to come. The previous evening when she returned to her re-furnished suite, Juanita had been there to inform her that preparations were already on their way, and were likely to continue throughout the night and early morning in order to create the proper setting for a Royal wedding ceremony. The Arch-Bishop who would perform the rites and a veritable crowd of guests arrived from all across the Kingdom and beyond, some, of course, from Spain. Elena's father, unable to attend due to his health, had sent a painter in his stead, commissioned to depict the scene for him – his daughter could easily imagine how expensive that must have been. Mere hours away from walking down the aisle, Elena summoned the young maid to her, knowing that it would be several hours before all was in order: bathing, dressing, coiffing....

A long while later, Elena stood before one of the floor-length mirrors, admiring the handiwork of no less than five palace maids, in a gown (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Ghanima/RP%20Contests/Elena_wedding_gown.jpg) which could only be described as extravagant. Its vast hems fanned around her in a gravity-defying circle, layers upon layers of silk, ribbons, gold stitching, tassels and ribbons arranged in an elaborate design. Her waist and bodice appeared tiny by comparison, emerging from the centre of this ample arrangement. A multi-layered diamond and pearl necklace encased Elena's neck, a matching tiara glittering among the raven curls gathered in an intricate coiffure above her shoulders. Above them a thin white veil was positioned, currently raised off her face, and a bouquet of white roses hung from her right hand.

A labyrinthine smirk tugged at the corners of the bride's rouged lips as she gazed imposingly at her own reflection.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Oh I'm not saying it isn't an awesome suit, I'm just saying it's awfully dang poncy :P Seems more like a Cesar thing to wear than Octavien *ducks and hides from rotten vegetables*

Oh and is that a Marie-Antoinette picture you used Ghanima? And I'll stop spamming now, I promise....)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Yep it is, it's the only one I've found with enough oomph to satisfy Elena's tastes :P

As for the suit...*snicker* those two have more in common than they'd like to admit, I guess :D))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Hey, I never said Octavien likes it! :D He's getting married, and he doesn't really care about it enough to submit himself to taking part in the actual making of his wedding attire. I just figured it would've been made for him, in a style fit for a Prince. So, the suit isn't really his creations in any way, nor is it his choice. *s* *nod* So there. :P )))

[Avara]

( OOC: Jesus, you could fit five small children underneath that dress. XD )

[AtropaMandragora]

What a spectacle this was all turning out to be. As Octavien was making his way towards the altar, followed by a few of the most prominent noblemen in court, with whom he would be awaiting Elena's grand entrance, he studied the scenery that had been chosen as the stage of this morning's big event. White and gold was everywhere, with a dash of red added here and there, most notably in the attire of the men chosen to wait on the Prince before and during the wedding ceremony. As a way of honoring the bride, and the Spanish guests, no doubt. with the colors of their flag. In fact, it all seemed even more extravagant than the last wedding, and Octavien couldn't help but to think that the only reason was flattery, plain and simple. France and Spain were both sucking up to one another, now that an alliance was about to be sealed through holy matrimony. This was simply France's way of doing it; by welcoming Elena Sanchez into their royal family with a wedding that, from where Octavien was standing, seemed even more lavish than the one for their own, now deceased Princess Adalita; an affair that had not yet happened long ago enough to have been forgotten by anyone.

All around them were the lush green colors of the garden, sprinkled with a myriad of spring flowers, and beaming down on it all from high above was the sun, sending an army of lustrous rays cascading over the surroundings, and trickle through the light green leaves of the trees casting shadows to protect the nobles from the heat and sunburn. A small orchestra to the right sent an aerial melody to weave through the hushed murmur of voices that had been heard among the guests as they waited. Though they instantly fell silent the moment Octavien appeared, and everyone quickly rose to their feet as he began slowly progressing down the interim aisle lined with flowers, moving with confidence and with grace, giving small nods of acknowledgement to the most notable ones as he passed. His face, however, was still a placid mask, hiding behind it the inner turmoil still wreaking havoc within, and so no matter how beautiful it all was, in his current state, feeling quite the embodiment of anything opposite of the sunny weather and merrily gleaming decorations, embroided clothing and bejewelled people, Octavien was hardly prone to appreciating the splendor. To him, it all felt rather more like a mockery - 'Here you go, a bride you don't know and don't really want to marry, and with whom you are to spend the rest of your life. Now smile, rejoice and be merry!'.

Merry he was not, rejoice he could not, and if he smiled, it was a mere faint curve of his lips, born only out of the sight of one particular and blessedly familiar face among all the rest; Queen Isabella. Standing by her husband the King at the front row, Octavien locked gazes with her ever so briefly, and that faint smile seemed to flitter by on both their lips as they shared a look of saddened understanding, and of grateful reunion. It had been only days, but oh, how long those days had been. He'd missed her greatly; talking to her, tutoring her, holding her in his arms, simply gazing at her. He could only hope they would be given a few moments alone, to talk, perhaps even share a kiss. Anything more, he did not dare to hope for. He knew all too well that she would only be here for the wedding, and go back to her family's estate the next morning, and that the night was one they simply could not share, as he was forced to share it with another woman. And this time, unlike last, he would be expected to... perform. This time, his marriage was not just a front, a facade, to protect an already pregnant woman from public humiliation and ridicule. And this time there would be no understanding, that his bride was to live her life with whatever lover she desired, and he was to live his with the woman he loved, and there would be no covering for one another. Deception would have to be complete, with the only allies being Gilles and Margaret. If ever he and Isabella would be given a chance to meet, in private. Right now, the chances of such a thing happening any time soon seemed bleak, at best.
Ah, the cruelty of fate.
They needed to talk, so very badly. There was so much they needed to discuss. Octavien's new marriage for one, and what problems it brought with it for the two of them, not only in that this time, it was not simply to keep up appearances, it was an actual marriage, but also in that neither of them had any idea how much of a threat Elena would pose to their affair. They had yet to find out if she was friend or foe, and it seemed that was something only time would reveal. If they'd had to be careful before, now they would have to double, even triple their efforts. The upper floor had been given several sets of new eyes, in Elena and her servants, and there was no doubt in Octavien's mind that unlike Adalita, they would be quite capable of looking beyond their own little existence, keenly and eagerly drinking in every detail that held the slightest chance of being even fairly important. For he may not yet know where Elena stood, but he did know she was an intelligent woman. That much she had made evident during their first encounter. And as such, she would be inclined to surround herself with at least a few servants that were not exactly dull-witted either.

Secondly, he and Isabella had to discuss Marquess Berini's fate, and mysterious death. Octavien didn't know quite what to think about it. He doubted Isabella had something to do with it, for even though she was an assertive lady, she was just that; a lady. She knew how to wield power without unnecessary 'casualties'. Though on the other hand, she had ridded herself of a certain bothersome Duc de Mollier, who had apparently borne a few similarities to the Marquess, but still... Octavien had dealt with the Marquess, and ensured he would cause no further trouble. There had been no need for Isabella to have him killed. And she most certainly was not that vengeful, that she would have someone killed for humiliating her. Punished, yes, but most likely in a way that fit the crime. Killed? No.
And just as he didn't know for sure whether she had been somehow involved in Berini's death, if she wasn't, she had to be wondering the same thing about Octavien. Furthemore, if neither of them were behind it, then who was? Yes, indeed, it was imperative that they got a chance to get to the bottom of this conundrum.

And then thirdly... Octavien had to confess to her, the disasterous events of the previous day; how he had kissed another woman, and why. Something that would be difficult, if not impossible, to explain, considering he himself was not entirely sure.
However, now was not the time to start reliving it all yet again. He was already making an effort not to glance towards where César and Joséphine were sitting - together, thank the lord - and did not need the thoughts that at this time would accompany the sight of their faces, or Isabella's, lest he'd falter completely and the sea of emotions would wash over the features he was trying hard to keep placid and amiably composed. So far, and much to his relief, successfully.

Thus, he soon busied himself with talking to the nobles that stood waiting there at the altar with him instead, occasionally glancing impatiently towards the opposite side of the aisle, where Elena was soon to appear. For impatience was one of the few emotions he could afford to let show. He was getting married, after all. Impatience, so very easily mistaken for anticipation, was to be expected.

[xJOFLx]

OOC: WHOA! I was going to overcome my S2C roleplaying fear and join, but I'm just a bit intimidated by the length of posts and detail. It may not be a place for me, a just-starting-out roleplayer, but I will make an application tomorrow. It is 3am right now, where I am! Eep.
Oh, and does a Comtesse have to be married? I still don't really understand the titles part. If she isn't married, she doesn't have the de in front of her family name, I think. Is that right?

[Alissa888]

OOC: Hey there, Janne, don't be intimidated by the post lengths at all, as long as your posts are 8 lines or more, you'll be fine :)
I was a newbie RP-er when I joined Viper's, so yup, just jump in! Also, no, a Comtesse doesn't have to be married as long as she's the last surviving member of her family. ;)

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: No, that's not how it works. :) Women in that time were not born with titles, (men weren't either, but they had more opportunities to gain them, plus the heir inherited the father's title eventually) even if their father was a Comte, Duc, whatever. They would have their last names, including the 'de' if they had one, but not a title (so she would not be a Comtesse). They would still be noble of course though. They gained titles through marriage or some kind of exceptional situation where they ended up the last surviving member of their family of direct line, or if they remained alone with an underage son they'd hold the title until the child became of age (here though the title would have been gained through marriage, previously). So, yes, women's opportunities back then were a little limited as far as noble titles went. The easiest and most realistic way would be marriage, even with a NPC for a husband. Most girls were married in their mid-late teens anyway.

As for the length, there's no need to be intimidated, you don't have to write posts as long as some of the ones here, the minimum is 8 sepparate lines, *without* whatever you have quoted from a previous post. :) If you don't know what to put in your post, try describing your character's surroundings, appearance, thoughts, feelings etc and you'll get there in no time.

Come on, the more the merrier! Also, if you need help with the application, feel free to drop me a PM! ))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena and Octavien - The Wedding



When one has spent many weeks carefully orchestrating a certain event, those final few minutes proved most difficult to bear. The loftily perched window which opened towards the east offered Elena a panoramic view of the gardens below, currently bustling with noise and movement as guests and Courtiers filtered through the paths and alleys towards the glade where the wedding was about to commence.

Elena perused the scene in silence, positioned as close to the window as her lavish gown permitted, her fingers idly tracing the intricate gold stitching along the edges of the new deep plum curtains that framed each of the six windows along the walls of the main suite. It was difficult to recognize anyone from that distance, though there was no mistaking King Edouard who emerged from the Palace arm in arm with a woman who could only have been Queen Isabella, causing Elena to squint in their direction for a clearer glimpse: that was a woman she wished to learn more about, considering that starting with that day she would remain one of the few people in the Kingdom with a higher rank than her and, if one listened to rumours, was far more inclined to actively wield that power than her illustrious husband. If she survived the mysterious illness that had her confined to her family's estate, which some already likened to the disease that had already claimed the Queen's step daughter's life.

Royal pair aside, another familiar and reviled face was revealed to Elena's darkening gaze as it tilted upwards for a brief instant, unmistakeable thanks to the generous moustache surrounding a pair of fleshy lips: Marqués Alfredo Slazar, her cousin and notorious miser, whose greedy appetite for riches had his will set on his uncle's fortune and title. Considering they shared a powerful mutual antipathy for one another, Elena was mildly surprised to see him there: then again, it would be just like Alfredo to taunt her with his abhorrent presence during her own wedding. Well, let him watch then as she was made into a Princess!

Slowly but surely, the rows of chairs were being occupied, sending a tingle of anticipation through Elena's limbs: it was almost time. Not long after, surrounded by several nobles in fine clothing, emerged Prince Octavien, resplendent in white and gold silk and brocade and looking every inch the part of a royal groom.

“Milady...it is time” came a whisper from behind Elena: Juanita stood by the door, looking positively odd in an impeccable dress fit for the occasion. She said nothing, only lowering the veil over her face.

Downstairs, four young, unmarried girls awaited, flower coronets in their hair. They were not older than fourteen and looked breathless with anticipation. Two of them lifted the hem of Elena's gown which trailed a meter behind her, the others walking a few paces in front of them, there to complete the ensemble. And so, they began the slow procession towards the altar, Elena leading with slow, even steps, not only because the style and size of her gown did not allow plenty of mobility but because a bride did not rush down the isle.

Previously silenced by Octavien's arrival, the orchestra resumed their play, a stirring, solemn hymn filling the air as the bride emerged at one end of the aisle. Elena kept chin raised, an august smile firmly planted on her lips, each step bringing her closer to the altar where the Prince awaited before the Arch-Bishop who would perform the ceremony. There she stopped, gazing at the face of her soon-to-be husband and wondering what thoughts and feeling stirred behind that placid mask he held in place for all to see. She knew he didn't love her, but surely if he was as clever as Bella had surmised, he could see the many...practical advantages their marriage would provide. Simply earning himself a few political points by marrying her and sealing an alliance with Spain needed not be the end, just like becoming Princess was not the end of Elena's ambitions.

The time was however not ripe for such musings yet. Ceremoniously and at length, the Arch-Bishop commenced the ceremony that transformed Octavien and Elena from strangers into husband and wife before God and man alike, as they exchanged vows and pledged their lives to eachother for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, until death did them apart. A learned repertoire, expected words recited from the necessity of ritual, but when Elena lifted her veil to receive her new husband's kiss, a genuine smile lit up her comely features: it was glee, yes, and a keen sense of fulfilment, that she made no effort to conceal: there was no need to.


((ooc: by the way, once the wedding itself is done and the banquet begins, I'll bring Jo in if anyone wants to chat to her. I figured, right now everyone would be watching anyway, there isn't much opportunity to make conversation.))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: So, if your father is a Comte, you could still become a Marquis, and it wouldn't affect him at all? I can see how that works for Octavien (that his dad won't be Prince etc) but the general populace?

Sorry for the spammage and yup, Bella would love to talk to Jo :))))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Yeah, pretty much! Just like now Bella's a Comtesse but her father remains a Baron. At least that's how I've always understood it, that titles aren't backwards hereditary, even for men.

And okay, I'll try to bring her in sooner then.

ETA for Robyn: Yes, the girls will be there. :)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: *adds to spammage* Or how for example, Marie-Elisabeth's husband died, and their son is only 6 years old so she is holding/managing the estate now as he has yet to reach the age of majority (Whatever it was back then LOL) And she is..wait was a Comtesse. Marquise now*end spam*

Marie-Elisabeth is approachable too, if anyone wants to talk to her. Although I know at least 2 people who probably don't LOL Oh and are Jo/Cesar's girls at the ceremony too?

And 14 year old unmarried girls? Lucky things, ME was a mother by that point LOL)))

[AtropaMandragora]

Time was out to spite him. He was sure of it. Standing there by the altar, waiting for Elena to arrive so that the ceremony could commence and this wretched thing be over and done with, it seemed Time itself had picked today, of all days, to add to the burden already threatening to make Octavien buckle under the pressure. At this point, he wasn't even wishing for the whole day to be over, right now he would be willing to settle for just a few minutes to himself, in some secluded area of the Palace while the others enjoyed themselves at the wedding banquet. Just a few minutes, away from any living soul, so that he might finally be able to hear himself think, and actually gather his thoughts. Since the moment he had woken up, people had been buzzing all around him, incessantly chattering in his ear about his attire, the wedding, the consequences thereof, and generally fawning and sucking up to him by going on and on about how fortunate a woman Elena was to marry the very Prince of France, how attractive she was as woman and wife alike, and what a lovely pair the two of them made. Things that at this point in time, and to Octavien, were becoming increasingly nettlesome with each passing minute. Which, funnily enough, eached seemed to last a lifetime.

But then, just as the wait was starting to become truly unbearable - with the mindless chatter of the nobles next to him, and the efforts he made not to glance towards his friends or Isabella, wearing him down - the music started playing once more, and several hundred pair of eyes, including his own, turned to the opposite side of the aisle, where Elena was just emerging, sending a sough of awe-struck sighs in unison through the many rows of spectators. Dressed in a wedding gown that in itself was the very embodiement of royal splendor, with layers upon layers of white, bouffant silk, and gold details, perfectly matching the attire of her soon to be husband, she progressed slowly down aisle, practically floating forward between the two seating areas, cutting gently, effortlessly through the envious whispers and breathless stares, to finally reach a slow halt by Octavien's side. And although somewhat of an adversary to the entire spectacle, even Octavien himself had to admit that had his heart not already belonged to another, it probably would have skipped a beat at the sight. He even felt the look in his eyes brighten ever so slightly, ever so briefly, for there simply was no denying her beauty. She could have been the most vile person in all of Europe, and she would still have brought out a spark of appreciation in him.

Though his smile still remained the same placid, almost noticably forced one, as no matter how beautiful his bride was, the fact remained that he did not want this. Not now. Even though he knew well that he would be securing his position this way - and so in that aspect, he didn't truly mind all that much, but was rather the quite willing participant as he realized that he was gaining alot more weight to throw around, should he choose to - the timing was all wrong. So very, very wrong. He had too many other things on his mind, even officially, for this to be anything even resembling an opportune moment to marry, and everyone knew it. For while they might not know all of what was going through his mind, such as last night's disaster, the mysterious death of Marquess Berini, and his growing distance from the woman he loved, they did know of the all too recent death of his first wife, and the fragile state of his (soon to be former) mother-in-law. Those two things alone were enough to make this present union in the making a most awkward event. People - the commoners, the nobles and especially the royal family - had to realize the timing was gravely askew. How could he be expected to show grief in public one moment, and happiness, even for no other reason than to not offend Elena and the Spaniards, the next? A convenient and advantageous union or not, it was downright cruel, to slap anticipated displays of grief over one wife and joy over another into his hands, and expect him to find any kind of balance between the two.

And yet, even with all the bitterness and the emotional turmoil raging within him, he was determined to do his best, knowing on a more rational level it all was not something done to him personally, but rather something done for the good of France. And just like he had sacrificed his own future once already, when marrying Adalita to spare her and her family a most embarrassing scandal, he would set his personal wishes and desires aside now as well, and do what was needed of him. For now. There was nothing stating that aforementioned wishes and desires could not be implemented into the new scheme of things, once the time was right.

And so, the young Prince found himself going through the same procedure as he had already done once not too long ago, promising before God, the Arch-Bishop and the congregation the same bunch of lies he had then, and finding, not to his surprise exactly, that they were a bit more difficult to pronounce this time around, as now, there was no understanding, so silent agreement between him and his wife, that they were just that; lies. Though he had his doubts Elena was any more sincere in her vows than he was in his, if for no other reason than the obvious one; one simply could not love someone they did not know, nor could they promise to love them once they did get to know them. Feelings just were not that cooperative or easily controlled.

And while the smile beaming at him as he lifted Elena's veil to seal the union showed only joy and satisfaction, neither struck him as having anything to do with marrying him, only with marrying the Prince of France. Yet again, on his very wedding day, a day that only weeks ago he had thought he would share with a woman he actually loved and who loved him, he was reduced to nothing more than a title. Just like he had ever since gaining it.

It was a thought that almost made him falter, and the mask he so stubbornly clung to crack. But at the last moment, during that one critical split second, he managed to muster all his willpower, and keep the mask intact. If anything showed, it was a mere shiver of his lips, so brief and fleeting if anyone saw it, they would have wondered afterwards if it had truly been there, or if it was just a figment of their imagination. And the only one actually close enough to see it, as their faces were only inches apart, was Elena, and while it might not be ideal for her to catch a glimpse of his apprahension, it would not exactly be a disaster either. She would be most aware that he was hardly likely to be jumping with joy. It had only been a mere few days since his last wedding, and even fewer since he had become a widower, left behind by a wife who, for all anyone knew, he had loved dearly. So, unless he was made of stone, which clearly he was not, of course he would be under alot of emotional pressure.
As for Elena, and her possibly witnessing that slight quiver of his lips... He could only hope that if she did, she would not just realize his situation, but understand it as well, maybe even be empathetic enough to support him. For even though he might not love her, that did not mean he did not wish her to be lovable.

Suspending the moment no further, he placed his hand gingerly on Elena's waist and took a small step closer, as close as her gown would permit, and then leant down to plant an equally ginger kiss on her lips, while struggling internally to try and keep himself from feeling the weight of three particular pair of eyes resting on him for three very different reasons, in this most delicate and uneasy of situations.

Even when only a minute later he and his new wife were making their way back down the aisle, this time together as a married couple, headed for the banquet in the Grand Dining Room and followed by all the guests in order of importance, he did everything in his power to fend off the nearly overpowering awareness of their presence, and instead did his best to keep his focus on Elena.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Gah I was hoping to bring Jo in today but unfortunately it's gonna have to wait till tomorrow :(

paintedgray, Elektra, where are you guys?


Also, it's now Afternoon. ))

[paintedgrey78]

((OOC: Sorry I haven't posted in a while Ghanima Atreides, I've been having some serious writer's block :(. I'm not even sure how to start off my beginning sentence. I might be able to post soon if I can think of anything.))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: I'm sorry to hear that, writer's block can seriously suck, I know all too well. I hope your inspiration returns soon and this is just a suggestion of course but several characters (Marie-Elisabeth and Bella) are out there so you can always approach one of them and see where that leads you if you don't know what to write about.

I admit, I'm trying to think up ways to get people here more involved, because it's no fun when everyone's approachable but nobody wants to do the approaching, and I'd really hate it if things became boring. Like I said though, only a suggestion.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Yeah, anyone feel FREE to approach Marie-Elisabeth and Charles. I've been doing nothing for a while so I'd welcome something to do! I can't exactly go near Jo/Cesar without Jo trying to kill me and ME would rather get killed than go near Bella LOL)))

[paintedgrey78]

((OOC: If I can I'll try an make a post to Marie-Elisabeth and Charles. If I can't think of anything tonight then I'll probably post tommorrow :)))

Adele felt the warm heat of the sun against her cheeks as she awoke the next morning to a brightly light room. Rolling onto her back she stretched her arms up above her head, letting them rest on the array of pillows that lay above her. The silk sheets felt cold against her warm, porcelain skin which caused her to shiver quietly to herself. She laid there for a moment, motionless, appearing to be frozen in time. She slowly closed her eyes, seeing colors of red and orange splotched onto a black surface, not seeming to notice that today was the wedding ceremony.

Rising from her bed Adele stretched out her arms and legs, looking towards the window. She had slept fairly well last night, and on a full stomach at that. No longer would she miss a meal due to fear of embarrassment; it was a lesson well learned. Stepping onto the floor she strolled from her bed over to the window, opening it so some fresh air could come into the room. A cool breeze swept into the room causing a chill to travel down her spine, and she looked out onto the palace grounds. Her pink lips parted slightly as she gazed at the large assortment of flowers spread throughout the palace gardens, which immediately reminded her of the wedding ceremony taking place this morning.

Surprisingly enough, Adele took her time when getting dressed this morning, wanting to find the perfect dress to wear when attending the wedding. It was a baby blue dress (http://www.runtimedna.com/mod/bcs/photos/Full2718.jpg) ,with white bows located at the elbows and midsection, and white trimming at the top. Her blonde hair (http://www.handbag.com/?module=images&func=display&fileId=54518) was pulled up into a bun, though it was fairly messy due to Adele's lack of knowledge about hair. Messy wisps of hair fell out as she walked towards the palace gardens. It was warm outside, but with just enough breeze as to not overheat. The sweet sound of violin music could be heard, and rows of white chair had been placed precisely in front of a low platform, where Prince Octavien and Elena were to marry. Adele gazed at the unfamiliar faces then took a seat near the middle, wantingto have a few drinks located near a table surrounded by servants.

Adele watched intently as seemingly confident Elena made her way towards Prince Octavien, with four young girls trailing behind carrying her dress. The orchestra began to play its sweet music as she walked down the isle towards the altar. The Arch-Bishop then preformed the ceremony allowing the two royals to now become husband and wife. Prince Octavien leaned towards Elena, lifted her veil, and gave her a kiss. Adele smiled and watched as they made their way back down the isle towards the Grand Dining Room, with all of the guests following. When they arrived Adele found herself bumping into little boy, who looked at least younger than ten years old.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Adele said apologetically, giving the boy a slight smile. She looked towards a woman and bit younger than herself and smiled towards her. Assuming she was the mother, she quickly apologized to her as well. "I didn't seem him there," she said, hoping she didn't uspet her, or the little boy.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine - The wedding


The previous night...

Joséphine departed the location of the disastrous picnic in a daze, barely feeling the ground under her feet as she slouched on, dripping water and mud. She stormed across the darkening field, only peripherally aware of where she was and where she was supposed to arrive, her mind, her whole being full with one thought alone: she had probably made the greatest mistake of her life, and worse still, she had done it before. Just as she reached the gardens proper with their winding hedges and gravel paths, Joséphine was overcome by a sudden feeling of nausea; dropping to her knees she became sick on the spot. One of the consequences was a sense of clarity slowly leaking back into her mind, and with it a keen awareness of her surroundings and dishevelled appearance: fortunately, it was already dark and no Courtier happened to come across the young Marquise's misery. Trembling with cold and the lingering feeling of queasiness, Joséphine made her way to the Palace with all the strength and dignity she could muster, ignoring the startled looks and whispering that followed her , and only once she reached the privacy of her suite did she stop, breathless and white with shock.

Later on, after a thorough bath during which she was forced to withstand Bess' reserved pity, the Marquise curled between the covers of the bed which felt uncomfortably empty without César lying next to her, a part of her wondering whether he would return sometimes that night. She ached to speak to him and tell him the truth, the whole truth, her imagination producing wild and disturbing imagery of where her husband might have been at the time, and what he must have assumed: that she and Octavien had been having an affair. Would he believe her when she told him otherwise? Would he even care to listen? The suspense was unbearable, Joséphine leaping in and out of bed on several occasions, resting before the window as though hoping she might glimpse César approaching across the dark, silent gardens below, but not a leaf swayed in the stillness nor did César return that night. Eventually, physically exhausted and emotionally drained, Joséphine fell into a fitful sleep in the early hours of morning.

That morning....


She was awakened what felt like half an hour later, though it was actually closer to three, by Bess who reminded her of something she had nearly cast aside in her wretchedness: Octavien's wedding! There was nothing Joséphine would have liked more than to make an excuse and remain in bed, but she knew social responsibility did not allow it: a royal wedding was also a time when nobles assessed one another, and the Marquise the Mont-de-Marsan's absence would not go unnoticed. Furthermore, she owed it to Octavien, after all that had happened, and, deep down, she harboured the hope César would attend and that they might steal a few moments of privacy together. The nausea returned to add to her discomfort, fanning her suspicions that she was, indeed, with child. A discovery which she would have shared with César, partaking in the joy together, then brought nothing but a feeling of sickening dread. If their marriage was doomed, what fate would this baby have to endure? What of Adèle and Angélique?

Silent and lethargic, Joséphine allowed herself to be helped into the peach and gold gown (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v48/Ghanima/RP%20Contests/Jo_wedding.jpg) she had picked in advance for the occasion, though in the current situation she found no pleasure at the sight of her wearing it. Collecting the hyper-excited Adèle and Angélique from their suite, the Marquise descended the grand staircase, joining the throng of nobles in their finery as they made their way towards the beautifully decorated glade where the wedding was about to commence. A quick scan of the perimeter revealed several familiar faces, including that of Isabella Devine, though only one made Joséphine's heart skip a beat: César was already there, standing away from the thickest crowd. As soon as they spotted their cherished papa, Adèle and Angélique sprinted in his arms, their mother following slowly in their wake. By the time she and César were face to face, her heart struggled to bounce out of her chest, and she greeted him as casually as she could, receiving a curt and awfully restrained “Good Morning” in return. He looked good, although he shared the dark circles under his eyes she sported as well, and when they both sat down next to each other, Joséphine stole a closer glance at his features, finding them tired: wherever he had been, he, too, had not slept much, if at all. It was a sickening feeling, sitting there together in complete silence, unable to communicate, forced to feign interest in the event taking place when in reality their dark musings isolated them from it.

Octavien arrived first, instantly attracting every pair of eyes towards him as he made his way towards the altar where the Arch-Bishop awaited. Joséphine barely dared to glance at him, secretly wondering how terrible it must have been for him to carry an even heavier burden then while needing to conceal it from everyone else. Several tense minutes later, his bride, Elena, emerged into view as well, wearing one of the most lavish gowns the Marquise had set eyes on- her old wedding dress would have paled by comparison. Stares and murmuring followed her as she glided across the aisle to join the young Prince and commence the ceremony. What felt like an eternity later they stood up from their kneeling position before the Arch-Bishop who bestowed his blessing, pronouncing them husband and wife. This time, Joséphine could not help but watch mesmerised when Octavien lifted Elena's veil and kissed her, cheering and applause errupting from all over the crowd which rose to follow the royal pair back towards the Palace where the banquet was held.

In the commotion, Joséphine felt her right arm brush against someone else's, belonging to none other than Comtesse Devine. Adjusting her lips into a small smile, she nodded briefly in her direction, noticing the lines of exhaustion around the other woman's eyes and guessing she, too, had spent a restless night. It felt as though a whole age had passed since she had joined her, César and Octavien on a visit to the Opera.

“Oh, pardon me, Comtesse. Good afternoon” she said and slipped in between two chatting women, looking around for César and making sure he did not slip away unnoticed “How are you today? Enjoying the festivities?”

Joséphine felt that she should have made more of an effort at embellishing on that last remark, but simply lacked the will to.



((ooc: I hope this works, and sorry about the crappy line at the end, I didn't know what else to say :einstein ))

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth had been infinitely grateful when the ceremony was completed. Oh it was a lovely sight to be certain, and one she wouldn’t have missed for anything. It brought back fond memories of her own wedding, and the grandness and spectacle that had accompanied it. Of course it was nothing in comparison to this one, and Marie-Elisabeth couldn’t help but be awed by the general splendor of it all, particularly Elena’s beautiful wedding gown. She had heard Charles mutter something about looking like a giant creampuff, but a quick glance on her part shushed any mutterings and caused him to sit back up in his seat.

But she was grateful for it to be over because, no matter how well instructed and educated he was, Charles was still a six year old boy. And anyone who expects a six year old boy to sit perfectly still and behave himself for an extended period of time is probably better off wishing for a money tree. That’s something they would be more likely to get. So she was glad for the end of the ceremony and their departure to the dining room. Which of course meant a volley of questions and excited chatter from Charles, most of which pertaining to the people he had seen or her own wedding

“Mama, was your wedding that fancy? Did you have people carrying your dress? Why did that lady in front of me look so ugly? Why…” Marie-Elisabeth chuckled and placed a hand over his mouth. “Chou d’amour hush or I’ll forget all your questions. And Marquis’ don’t run off at the mouth like gossipy women”. She removed her hand and he grinned and said“You mean like Auntie Joanne?” which caused her to laugh. Marie-Joanne was the 11th child in her family, barely a year older than her favourite sister Marie-Caroline, and had a dreadful tendency to gossip about everything and anything to anyone who would listen.

“Yes dear, you don’t want to sound like her do you”? she said, taking hold of his hand to make sure he stayed close in the press of people “Now to answer those questions of yours. No of course not, this is a royal wedding and your papa was only a Comte and mama was a Duchesse. Royal weddings are much fancier and bigger. Your sisters carried my train into the chapel for me, and that woman looked so ugly because she was far too large to be wearing such a revealing dress”.

He laughed when she finished and said “You know mama, you’re much better at questions than Monsieur Simon. He always tells me to hush and that gentlemen aren’t supposed to be nosy”. She had been about to reply but a woman in a blue dress bumped into Charles.

“Oh I’m so sorry” she apologized “I didn’t see him there”, a comment which made Charles rather perturbed. “How could you not see me” he demanded “I’m the Marquis de Valois. I’m very important”. Mildly annoyed herself, Marie-Elisabeth tugged on his hand. “Charles you mind your manners. It’s very crowded right now and it isn’t as though this lady meant to bump into you” she said, turning to the woman.

“It would be a good idea to watch where you’re going more carefully” she said, trying not to laugh at Charles' indignation “In crowds like this you never know what could happen”.

[paintedgrey78]

"How could you not see me?" the little boy asked, slightly agitated. "I'm the Marquis de Valois. I'm very important." Adele found herself at a loss for words, and awfully surprised that he replied in such a manner. Yet she couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, for she found the young boy to be quite adorable. “Charles you mind your manners. It’s very crowded right now and it isn’t as though this lady meant to bump into you," the woman said, turning to face Adele.

“It would be a good idea to watch where you’re going more carefully. “In crowds like this you never know what could happen."

Adele pondered that last statement, questioning what she meant by it. Was she insinuating that the people here were not as kind as she originally thought? Surely that was not the case. Everyone hear appeared have enough self restraint and manners, there couldn't possibly be something going on that she didn't know about. Yet she had only just arrived at the palace; things could certainly be going on that she was not aware about. It was possible. But instead of contemplating about it any further, she positioned those thoughts in the back of her mind and turned her attention back to the little boy and the yong woman.

"Of course," Adele replied, nodding her head. "Young man, I am truly sorry for bumping into you," she said. "I simply wasn't aware of my surroundings, I should have been paying more attention." She gave a quick glance towards the woman, then back towards him. "Marquis is a very important position, you know. Are you sure you're up for the challenge?" she asked jokingly. She smiled at him once more, then looked towards the woman again. "I'll be sure to watch my step next time." Adele gave a quick scan of the room, still seeing unfamiliar faces at every glance.

She was almost unknown by the rest of the palace, but she brought this upon herself. She would rather be alone reading a book than anything else, but she had to meet everyone at somepoint. She couldn't go the rest of her life without meeting a least a few others. Sighing, she turned back to the woman. "Baroness Adele," she said softly, giving a nod towards the boy and the woman

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: I'm off to bed soon so will edit this with a post in the morning. But one teeny thing, she probably wouldn't refer to him by his first name since they've just met. Even though he's just a kid he does technically outrank her :P)))

[paintedgrey78]

((OOC: Oops! I'll change my post right away :)!))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: It's fine, Ghanima :) works for me
Also, please excuse Bella's lack of originality, she's somewhat of a zombie at the moment)))

She was falling asleep. Three hours of sleep after an exhausting day to see her through to yet another demanding day was nowhere enough for Bella, and so, she was at risk of falling asleep. However, it simply wouldn’t do to doze off at the royal wedding, in fact, that would be ill advised to say the least. Hence, she had to keep going through whatever energy she had left.

Despite her fatigue, the grandeur of wedding was something she simply could not help but marvel at. And marvellous it was, the sheer splendour of the decorations, the flowers, the candle arrangements, the guests and of course, the main players; the bride and groom. It was breathtaking, the whole thing. The wedding was simply the word for it. Octavien, in his lavish suit making his way down the aisle to wait for his bride to join him, looking every shred the royal that he was supposed to be, his more natural carriage no longer the one he employed.

Elena. If the hall had been hushed before her arrival, she made her entrance and stunned it into pin-drop silence, with good reason. The gown alone would have carried the show if Elena’s beauty was insufficient, but that was so very not the case. She looked beautiful, in every sense of the word, practically drinking in every look on admiration, every shard of envy as she graced her way down to the altar. Even the Prince looked spellbound.

And the ceremony proceeded and Bella, along with the other guests, did her part. She stayed still. Every time she stood, she was still, she sat still and she did everything in utter silence to keep what energy she had left, too tired to think of any of what troubled her and instead, blankly watching the wedding. The Prince and Her Excellency were made husband and wife.

With that, the guests were ushered out into the Palace for the banquet and Bella had followed, tactfully avoiding Marie-Elisabeth simply because she couldn’t deal with another moment with her, especially at this point. Instead, it would seem, that she was to find herself another companion, none other than the agreeable Marquise Mont de Marsan.

“Oh, pardon me, Comtesse. Good afternoon,” Joséphine greeted, her eyes scanning the vicinity momentarily. She looked how Bella felt – and no doubt also looked. The circles around her eyes sure giveaways to the sleepless night she must have also spent, Joséphine left Bella wondering whether anyone had actually managed sleep the previous night. “How are you today? Enjoying the festivities?”

”Good afternoon, Marquise,” Bella replied, a warm smile growing over her lips at the genuine amicability she felt for the other woman. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I’m very well, thank you. I must say, that was beautiful service,” she vocalised what must have been on everyone’s minds, the slight fatigue manifesting itself in a diminished voice. Her honey eyes then wandered over the Marquise’s angelic features once more. She must be exhausted. “How are you? And that is a lovely gown, it suits you delightfully.”

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth was, admittedly, not overly fond of socializing with those of a lower class than herself. She usually went to great lengths to avoid it. But in this case, the young Baroness didn’t seem particularly offensive. If anything she seemed rather confused and unsure of herself, which was far more tolerable company than a certain previous neighbour of hers. There was no reason not to at least be polite and find out more about her.

“I will so be up for it” Charles piped up, interrupting her thoughts “I’m named after my father after all, and I want to be just like him. He was a great hero in the war. He fought against those nasty Englishmen and sent them home crying, didn’t he mama”?

“Yes he did chou d’amour, but don’t you go charging off just yet. Your father didn’t start in the military until he was my age, you’ve got quite a ways to go”, she said with a smile. She turned to the woman who introduced herself as Baroness Adele.

“Marie-Elisabeth, Marquise de Valois” she said, returning the nod “And this is my son Charles, the Marquis”. Charles nodded to her as well and said “Why don’t we go and sit down now mama, and you too Baroness, aren’t you both hungry too? It’s almost time for the food right”. Marie-Elisabeth nodded and looked over at Adele.

“Would you like to come and sit with us Baroness” she asked, a faint smile on her face “That way we can get better acquainted and a certain Marquis here won’t perish of hunger”.

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: 'Nasty Frenchmen'? :blink: :blink: :blink: )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Bella and Joséphine - Returning to the Palace


When one felt exhausted, physically speaking, and a tangle of worries plagued the mind, life sometimes offered its small mercies, such as an unexpectedly pleasant encounter. Initially fearful her distress would leak into her poise and spoil any social contact that day, Joséphine was grateful for the opportunity to speak of more pleasant things and divert her thoughts away from César, if only partly. Hand in hand with each of her daughters, the Marquise fell into a slow pace side by side with Bella as they were inevitably steered on their way by the throng of people all walking in the same direction. A hubbub of voices and bouts of laughter buzzed in their ears, and the continuous motion threatened to make Joséphine feel queasy again, but she smiled valiantly and turned to gaze at the Comtesse:

”Good afternoon, Marquise,” Bella replied amicably “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

It was said that a woman of high birth never found herself alone, always ready to give and receive visits; Joséphine was, if anything, the exception that reinforced the rule, having always found it difficult to form lasting friendships, particularly with other women. César used to say that it was due to her serious, ponderous nature and he wasn't entirely mistaken: the young Marquise would much rather spend her time in the company of a good book than that of a hundred airheads.

“I’m very well, thank you. I must say, that was beautiful service,” Bella continued, drawing a quiet nod from Joséphine “How are you? And that is a lovely gown, it suits you delightfully.”

Before she could respond, she felt a tug on one of her sleeves and when looking down, Adèle's cherubic face was looking questioningly up at her:

“Maman...isn't that Baronesse Bella? Why did you call her Comtesse?”

Ah, childlike curiosity! Although it did prove the girl was very aware of what went on around her, not to mention had a good memory.

“She was, ma chère. She is Comtesse Isabella Devine now.”

“Can I be a Comtesse?” chirped Angélique on the other side, bringing a tired, but genuine smile to her mother's lips.

“I'm going to be a Princess, like Oncle Octavien's wife,” declared Adèle. “Because I'm the eldest.”

Seeing Angélique's lower lip protruding outwards in an incipient sulk, Joséphine hugged both their tiny shoulders close and smiled down at them:

“You are already Princesses, both of you. Mine and papa's princesses.”

Inadvertedly mentioning César caused Joséphine's smile to falter briefly and steal a glance towards him, noticing he was distancing himself more and more from them, but there was nothing she could do but recover quickly and at last turn to Bella:

“Thank you, I am well. I meant to go with a richer colour but my mother convinced me peach goes best with my pale complexion. Yours is also beautiful, the velvet looks positively luxuriant. The wedding was impressive indeed, something tells me neither the French nor the Spanish wished to come in second as far as opulence goes.”

A slight smirk accompanied the remark.

“And now, we have a new Princess...I cannot help but wonder what she is like.”

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((ooc: 'Nasty Frenchmen'? :blink: :blink: :blink: )))
(((OOC: ACK o.0 *runs to change* It was like....2am when I typed that, I was tired LOL)))

[AtropaMandragora]

It had been a most dreadful night. It was being a most dreadful morning. And it was going to be a most dreaful day.

Those were the moderately cheerful thoughts of the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, as he was making his way towards the east gardens where the royal wedding between the last person he wanted to see and the last person he wanted to see's soon-to-be wife, was to be held. As if yesterday's display of affection between Octavien and Joséphine hadn't been bad enough, and left César with no particular desire to sit through a lengthy ceremony, watching one of them, with the other by his side, the previous night's drinking binge and the toll it was taking on him wasn't exactly working miracles on his mood either. His poor head felt as though it was going to shatter any minute, with an army of tiny hammers banging away at the inside of his skull, his eyes felt as though someone had thrown a handful of sand in them, and were probably blood shot to boot, and his backside had him wishing he didn't have one. He'd been riding for most of the night and wee hours of the morning, and apparently, in his drunken daze, he hadn't been all too mindful of sitting correctly in the saddle.

And yet, he was feeling somewhat better now, physically, than he had when he'd first returned to the Palace, in order to find some way of getting ready for the ceremony, and be there for Joséphine, without actually having to run into her before she simply wouldn't stand a chance to have another go at him. He'd had quite enough of that last night, thank you very much, and was still wrestling with the raging storm of emotions left in the wake of her outburst.
Thus unable to go to the suite he and Joséphine shared, and preferring death and damnation ten times over, rather than setting foot within ten yards of Octavien, César's options had been severely limited. He couldn't exactly drop by the charming Marie-Elisabeth's suite for another early morning "courtesy call", now could he? Not after what Joséphine had hurled at him, about 'traipsing around the Palace with that Comtesse', despite him not actually having seduced her yet. Even he would be set on coming as a friend, or rather an acquaintance, and not in order to court her. It would have been most odd, to come knocking on her door, and asking if she would be so kind as to allow him to simply get changed and shaved in her suite. And even odder if he really all of a sudden no longer actively pursued her.
Though wouldn't it serve his darlig wife right if he did bed Marie-Elisabeth after all?

Well, actually, no. No no no. If it hadn't been for his bedding other women, all of this might not have happened in the first place. He was no more a hypocrite than realizing that. Well, it might not have happened in the first place, if one went by what Joséphine had said, that is. Given the person she had chosen to... to... do things with, César had his doubts, for had she just wanted revenge or a shoulder to cry on, well, then, there were plenty of other young men for her to turn to. Though for all César knew, she had turned to them! Just because she hadn't let on that there were others, it didn't necessarily mean there weren't. And, as hard as it was for him to believe she would do something like that, the fact remained that he clearly didn't know her the way he though he did, for he had never, ever thought she'd go behind his back with one of his best friends.

But, he couldn't start back down that road again. Not now, or else he'd drive himself mad. And if he was going to make a stand, by showing up as Joséphine's escort, he had to remain fairly composed. Just long enough to slip in and slip right back out agan, once the ceremony was over. Stay for the banquet and the evening's festivities, he would not.
So then, regardless of whether or not Joséphine was telling the truth, seeking refuge at Marie-Elisabeth was not an option.

Which left only one, and one he didn't particularly care for either; the girls' suite. He really didn't want to go there, as he didn't know if he'd be able to bring himself to even look at them, should they already be up and about. For even though he had stopped drinking, his reasons for doing so in the first place, had not gone away. He still wallowed in heartwrenching doubt about how long Joséphine's and Octavien's affair had lasted, and thus who had really fathered the girls he loved so dearly. There was no way of telling, as the color of their eyes and hair could have come from Joséphine and not him, and it wouldn't have made any difference in their appearance. So, regardless of what Joséphine or Octavien had to say about it, how would he know they weren't lying, just to protect the girls for possibly loosing César's affection? How would he ever be able to look at either of them, and not wonder?
The only one he would know for certain was his, was the one Joséphine might be carrying at this very moment. Because if she was indeed pregnant, she must have been pregnant before coming here, or else she wouldn't yet have a clue that she might be. And she and Octavien hadn't met for the last couple of months, since Octavien had been sent off to court. Of that, César was sure.
Though it hardly lessened the blow of Adèle and Angélique possibly not being his, and the pure torture it would be when next he saw them, and he really would have preferred to wait a while longer yet, before subjecting himself to the risk. But, as all other options weren't options at all, he had no choice but to head for the girls suite.

Much to his enormous relief, the servant currently watching over the girls informed him that they were both still sound asleep. Waisting no time, César immediately sent another servant to fetch him "something to wear", pretending not to notice the odd looks he was getting, for various reasons. The first being his apparent disinterest in the girls. Usually, he would have been disappointed to find that they were not yet awake, and might even have taken it upon himself to rouse them from their sleep, by showering them with tickles and kisses. Now, however, he was being quite clear that dressing and grooming him should be done in as much silence as was humanly possible, as to not wake the children.
Secondly, his dishevelled appearance, and lack of interest in what to wear. Always one to look his best, especially for occasions such as this, the servants would have expected him to order at least half a dozen outfits to be brought to him, so that he himself might choose what to wear.
But instead, he barely even glanced at the cream colored frock coat (http://www.crimson-tale.com/Temp/WeddingCesar.jpg), with matching vest and breeches, and when the servants started exchanging questioning looks, snapped at them to get a move on. And so before long, he was dressed, shaven and groomed.
And out the door.

The next hour or so he spent by himself in the garden, not far from where the wedding was to take place, going over there only once he spotted Joséphine approaching from the opposite direction. With the girls.
It took César every last ounce of willpower not to turn on his heel, and flee. For he knew if ever there was a test to his composure and his self-control, this would be the one. He couldn't openly distance himself from the the two beautiful girls, not even to try and make things easier on himself. Whatever the case may be about who was their father, they were not to blame. And they would not understand if his greeting them was cold and reserved. Nor did he think he could greet them like that, even if he wanted to.

Therefore, when they came running towards him, with their pretty dresses billowing around their little legs, he squatted down to face them on their level, and give them each a light squeeze as they threw their arms around his neck. Though the soft, joyful chuckle that would often make it's way past his lips at their enthusiasm, stuck in his throat, and even the smile seemed to come and go within a single moment, while his eyes searched their round faces for any resemblance to his own.

Seconds later, Joséphine reached the three of them, and César greeted her as well. Though this time, it really was with a certain chill and reservation in eyes and voice alike, and he made no effort to make smalltalk, or otherwise seem the least bit friendly. She might, as she apparently saw it, have all the right in the world to be angry with him, and while he was beginning to understand why, and just how much it had hurt her - thus starting him down the guilt trip of a lifetime - at this point, his own anger and hurt were both still too fresh to be easily silenced.

During the entire ceremony, not a single word was exchanged between the Marquis and Marquise, and it was doubtful either of them even paid attention. César certainly didn't. He was looking everywhere, but towards the altar, and the Prince. In fact, if there was any detail in the decor any of the other nobles had missed, he would've probably been able to fill them in quite amply.

Having made the stand he come there to make, when finally the ceremony was over, after what seemed like an eternity and a half, César again wasted no time. Caring little if anyone saw, or no one at all for that matter, he started his departure from the crowd and the Palace, going in an entirely different direction from everyone else, carrying himself with the confidence of someone who had a most legitimate reason for doing so.

However, even though perhaps unnoticed by most, there was one person that saw him go.

"Papa!" Adèle called out and wriggled her hand loose from her mother's gentle grip in order to run after César. "Where are you going, papa?"

Not stopping, as peace and quiet and a chance to be by himself and think could not come a moment too soon, César barely glanced over his shoulder as he answered with a curt and firm;

"For a walk."

"Can I come?" the eldest girl asked while doing her best to catch up with her father's long, purposeful strides, which still really only carried him further and further away from her.

"No."

"Please?"

"No. Go back to your mother."

"Pleeeeaaaase?"

Already having balanced on the verge of loosing his temper for the last hour, that became the last straw for César, and despite his best efforts, he snapped.

"Adèle!" he bellowed, and spun around, with eyes so dark the message would have been clear even to the deaf.

Caught in that black stare, the little girl instantly froze in pure terror at somehow having made her precious daddy angry, when all she'd wanted to do was to spend some time with him. Though a moment later, she too turned on her heel, and ran straight back to Joséphine to hide her little face in her mother's skirts, thereby missing the way César's eyes had almost immediately softened, and he'd opened his mouth to tell her he hadn't meant to mean. But before he could say anything, his gaze met Joséphine's, and his mouth snapped shut. Staring at her in silence at first, the look in his eyes slowly darkened once more, as he was reminded of why exactly he had wanted to get away from there in the first place, and without another word, he turned again, and kept on going.



(((ooc: Not approachable. Also, I'll be going away early tomorrow morning, and probably won't be back on here until Saturday. Just figured I'd mention it. :) )))

[paintedgrey78]

“I will so be up for it” the young man exclaimed. “I’m named after my father after all, and I want to be just like him. He was a great hero in the war. He fought against those nasty Englishmen and sent them home crying, didn’t he mama?" Adele smiled at the boy, her thoughts immediately traveling over to her father. She, unlike the boy, had no intention of becoming anything like her father. With the unbearable wife and his immense amount alcohol intake, she felt the need to be the antithesis of him.

She could recall the day when she ultimately decided to make something of herself, and no longer wait for her father to care for her, since it was quite obvious he no longer would. She was only fourteen then, but she realized that unless she made some sort of drastic change she would end up drunk married to some horrible man, who would have only married her for the amount of money she had. In her opinion, she had become a knowledgable and kind young woman; and much more approchable then her drunken father. If anything, she had taken up the characteristics of her mother, who unfortunately died of a heart attack. Now she was own her own, forced to create a stable lifestyle. But of course, she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Yes he did chou d’amour, but don’t you go charging off just yet. Your father didn’t start in the military until he was my age, you’ve got quite a ways to go”, the woman said, with a smile appearing on her lips. She turned her attention towards Adele, whose thoughts about her father were no longer present.

“Marie-Elisabeth, Marquise de Valois” she said, giving a nod “And this is my son Charles, the Marquis”. The young boy gave a nod, and Adele returned the favor with a slight smile. “Why don’t we go and sit down now mama, and you too Baroness, aren’t you both hungry too? It’s almost time for the food right”. he asked, with the Marquise giving a nod in response. She gazed over at Adele, who immediately gave a quick glance over towards the table.

“Would you like to come and sit with us Baroness. That way we can get better acquainted and a certain Marquis here won’t perish of hunger”, she asked with a faded smile.

"That would be wonderful," Adele said in reply, giving a genuine smile towards the two of them. Stepping over towards the table she sat down, resting her hands gently in her lap. "Did the pair of you enjoy the wedding this morning?" she asked, attempting to continue the conversation. Her voice was soft and quiet as she spoke, for she felt the need to lower her voice a bit.

((OOC: Just a quick question, would Adele refer to Marie-Elisabeth as Marquise Marie-Elisabeth, or just Marquise? The same thing goes for Charles.))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: painted - Well, the other characters have referred to one another by using the title... Which in ME's case is "Marquise de Valois". Unless, of course, they know one another, in which case they tend to use first names. Also, surname and title weren't necessarily the same thing. Look at César. His surname is de la Valliére, but his title is Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan. :)

Also, I finally got that movie stills project off the ground now. Link is found at the bottom of the Viper's page. Though the stills turned out way crappier than I had expected. But then again, they were taken from an old movie, which hadn't been digitally enhanced, so... Meh.)))

[xJOFLx]

Name: Amelie Christinne de la Rougemont Chateau
Title: Baroness (de la R.C)
Age: 17
Bio:
Amelie had a despairing childhood; her father passed away when she was just two years old, and her mother fell ill with an unknown sickness at eight. She was then forced to be moved to other homes, where she was treated badly, until she met Master Ralph de la Rougemont Chateau.

Ralph came from a rich family with a long history - His father, a Duc, owned a small castle, and they were all raised up 'properly'. After meeting each other, Ralph brought Amelie into his house and there she worked for the Rougemont family. That is, until young Ralph announced to him parents that he wished to wed the girl. Completely outraged by this, Ralph's father kicked the both of them out, but Ralph's mother, Julienne, was kind enough to Amelie and controlled his anger.

When Ralph's father finally allowed the wedding to go on with the exception that that she was a commoner was kept quiet, Ralph became a Baron, and sought after independence from his parents. He knew that his father would never allow it, so Julienne once again helped them - and here they are, at the Palace of Light and Air, seeking opportunities and fortune. All this time, Amelie had to adjust herself to the strange and uncomfotable lifestyles of high nobles, survivng the prying and discerning eyes of others, usually women of high places.

Amelie never speaks of her parents, and although she never trusts anyone until they approach her with a (seemingly) warm heart, the young girl has been known to do anything to achieve her goals, whatever that may be. Unfortunately for her, in the mere year that they she and Ralph have been married, he often has had to sail away and be gone for months at a time, leaving her lonely, bitter and vulnerable - she seldom smiles. Partly from the fear of men that she has gained from her past, Amelie will easily spill her knowledge when drowsy, or scared enough.

Picture:

http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk71/jSQUIDGY/Sara_Paxton_as_Splendora_Cromwell_2.jpg

((OOC: I changed her picture.))

[Slytherin-Girl]

As Marie-Elisabeth had well expected, the moment they sat down at the table Charles’ attention was immediately focused on the food in front of them. Which was just as well, it would give her more of an opportunity to speak with the woman she had just met. Most, if not all, of the women she had met so far were either highly unpleasant company or dangerous company, and it was nice to find someone that appeared to be neither. As highly intriguing as the male company she had acquired may have been, a woman just needed the company of another woman sometimes. Not that she could seem to catch a glimpse of said handsome Marquis anywhere, much to her disappointment. She was beginning to wonder where he was, as he didn't seem like the type to miss such an extravagant party.

With a quick reminder to Charles to mind his manners while eating, she turned her attention to Adele. "Did the pair of you enjoy the wedding this morning?" the Baroness asked and Marie-Elisabeth nodded. “It was amazing, I’ve never seen anything like it” she said, nodding her head in agreement “Especially her highness’ dress, it was exquisite wasn’t it?. Although I don't envy her the time it probably took to put on. Mine was barely half as elaborate and it took me over 2 full hours to get ready”.

She smiled and glanced over at Charles again before reaching up to fiddle with her necklace. “Are you here by yourself as well Baroness?” she asked, looking around the room “You weren’t with anyone when you bumped into us”.


(((OOC: I'll be visiting a friend over the weekend, whose internet stinks, so sorry if I don't get on in that time :( )))

[Alissa888]

Tired though Bella was, she’d much rather prefer the company of Joséphine rather than another, more newly made Marquise. However, though she wasn’t a fan of idle chit-chat, the present mental conditions would permit little more at her usual calibre. However, that did not mean she was about to give up nor was she about to let her guard down over what she might reveal just in case.

However, it didn’t seem that Bella in this case would be the one subject to a barrage of questions for it proved that the Mont-de-Marsan girls pounced at the chance to launch the Spanish Inquisition against their mother. Though Bella was not entirely familiar with children and their childlike ways, being the only child, she did find the spectacle rather adorable. They had such few worries.

Proficiently dealing with her daughters’ unbridled curiosity once more, Joséphine returned her attentions to Bella, to carry on in the chit-chat that was really customary in such occasions.

“Thank you, I am well. I meant to go with a richer colour but my mother convinced me peach goes best with my pale complexion,” she replied politely. “Yours is also beautiful, the velvet looks positively luxuriant. The wedding was impressive indeed, something tells me neither the French nor the Spanish wished to come in second as far as opulence goes.”

This, Bella had to smile at, not the compliment which the Marquise returned, but the opulence being chalked up to the French and Spanish rather than what Elena was likely to have demanded.

“And now, we have a new Princess...I cannot help but wonder what she is like.”

Oh, here we go. There was what Bella had been waiting for, yet dreading the moment it arrived, talk about Elena. Though, she did know that given that it was the royal wedding and she was the new Princess and thus everyone would talk about her, Bella simply didn’t have the energy to keep the guard up about how little she was supposed to know the woman. It is always said how easy it is to feign ignorance, but one could so easily over do it and simply give themselves away.

So, what was she to do? Simply give Joséphine the same reply that Marie-Elisabeth had received? Or should she try to gain Joséphine’s impression of Elena, given that they had had at least one dinner conversation.

However, before Bella could decide how to proceed, little Adèle pried free from her mother’s grasp and suddenly started fleeing from the crowd. It was the oddest thing, until Bella’s eyes followed the path taken by the child to fall upon Cèsar. Ah! Daddy’s little girl, of course. Though, there wasn’t the reciprocity of affection from the Marquis that one would have expected, for instead of waiting for the miniscule strides of the little girl to carry her to him, he simply kept walking, further and further, apparently curtly answering her questions.

That was until he simply snapped at her. It was hurtful to watch as a third party, Bella’s own shoulders almost flinching as Adèle withdrew her small form from her father’s derisive stare, confused and scared as she ran back to the comfort of her mother, burying herself in the peach gown, little sobs pouring out. How dare he? Despite Bella’s currently, sadly, non-existent relationship with her own father, she had never been spoken to that way. And he didn’t even come to comfort her, instead the softening gaze growing darker again at the sight of his wife. Regardless of whatever he was angry about, this was just heartless.

What was he angry about? For clearly, Adèle wasn’t the one at fault, otherwise he wouldn’t have looked apologetic straight after he’d scared the living daylights out of her and thus, it was likely to be Joséphine, for he’d turned straight back to looking hateful when his gaze met hers. Did they have an argument about a certain Marquise? If so, what was he angry about, it was really her right to be fuming?

In any case, it wasn’t anything Bella was to be affected by; it did not concern her now, nor her purpose here, nor the whereabouts of her father. However, that said, she did feel amicability towards Joséphine, even if simply for the natural conviviality the woman exuded, so she simply couldn’t walk away. And, if she had to subject herself to perpetual underhandedness at Elena’s bequest, she could do this simply out of the kindness of her heart.

“Are you alright, Marquise?” she asked tentatively, her eyes somewhat wide, expectant and concerned once it met Joséphine tearing itself away from Adèle. Well, of course she wasn’t alright. Thus, she continued, just as tentatively, offering support in case it was needed. “Would you like to talk about it?”

[xJOFLx]

...

It was late by the time their carriage arrived at the gates of the palace. She could hear the heavy gated open, with that distinct sound that only comes from opening large gates. When the horses slowly came to a stop, Ralph turned to Amelie and smiled, full of hope.
"Here we are, cherie." he reached over and gently kissed her hand. She nodded, her turquoise eyes looking down at the hem of her dress (http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk71/jSQUIDGY/Jenah_doucette.jpg).
The curtain sharply drew open, and some of the cool evening air gushed in. Anxious, Amelie waited for her husband to step out, then took one of the horsemen's hand as she, too, made her way out. When she finally dared to raise her head, Amelie gasped. The palace was so.. maginificent! A breeze caught in her loose blonde hair (http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk71/jSQUIDGY/SaraPaxton-01-big.jpg), and she anxiously waited for them to enter.

One of the servants, she guessed, came out to greet them. She was young, but frail and looked hardworking. A distance away from her, she talked to Ralph, and soon he strode to where Amelie was still waiting, shaking his head. The maid ran after him, her face worried and nervous.
"Please, I shall go and find you the best room to stay in, while your reserved room is being prepared." she piped up.
Ralph raised an eyebrow, and Amelie hastily responded as not to upset the lady,
"Yes, thank you. We will do just fine there."
Relieved, the servant lead them across the grounds, and inside to one of the many spare rooms. Everything was golden and warm, from the sophisticated atmoshere to the grand decorations. As they reached their large wooden door, the lady curtsied politely and scuttled off.

Holding her breath, Amelie took cautious steps inside, and strode around the room. Her eyes lay on the beautiful furniture, and especially the bed with intricate patterened bedpost and sheets.
"Are you hungry?" Ralph asked.
"No, I don't want to eat at the moment. Though you should go, Ralph." Amelie replied, her heart still unable to settle down from all these changes. Ralph was genuinely worried for her; she was still getting used to living a nobleman's life, and she was never a girl to adapt easily into new surroundings.

He remembered when they first brought her into his home and had a meal together. She had barely touched anything, just sitting there helplessly, trying to take in everything at once. Afterwards, he'd watched her silently weep in her room. He'd felt so sorry for her - His love for her started out as pity, he supposed. Now, she was still very uncomfortable to the new customs, but she was coping well and he knew she cared about him.

Seeing Ralph hesitant, Amelie gave him a reassuring smile, and insisted he go without her. Once he left, she eventually fell asleep, exhausted from the day's travelling.

...

((OOC: Anyone is free to socialise with the Baron, he's just an NPC.))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Joséphine and Bella - Somewhere near the Palace entrance


Curious. Of course she was curious. One needed to have been jaded or dull-witted beyond belief to participate to an event as dazzling as a royal wedding and not entertain the slightest interest in the participants: their feelings, their forever joined lives, what they were truly like and how they were likely to change in the future. Joséphine happened to know one of the two, Prince Octavien, fairly well thanks to their long friendship, a friendship whose own future currently dangled in a very delicate balance, which mostly excluded him from her musings: or rather, from any wedding-related musings. That left his newly-made wife, Elena Sánchez (now Lahance, the Marquise realized), the reason she had leapt to defend Octavien the previous day, not really knowing why or what from. Watching her from up close though, floating down the aisle in her extravagant gown that had probably cost as much as one of the smaller Mont-de-Marsan residences, maintaining an unspoiled regal poise every second of the way, let Joséphine wonder whether she had been right to share Octavien's worries after all: that was a proud and daring woman who wore the royal mantle even before it was officially given, claiming rather than receiving the Prince of France as her husband. She had the potential of being extremely dangerous, of that Joséphine felt increasingly certain.

That particular train of thought was however halted as she felt Adèle's tiny hand slip from her grip, instantaneously transforming Joséphine into a mother like any other, eager to see where her child was running to so unexpectedly. Stepping away from the main throng of people advancing towards the Palace entrance, her horizon broadened to include the encircling east side gardens and, heading down an empty alley flanked by two birch trees, César. She barely had the time to rationalize the fact that he was, indeed, leaving again when the sound of his voice barking out Adèle's name promptly followed by the frightened 4 year old darting right back into her mother's arms obliterated everything else: the disappointment, the remote nausea, even Bella's presence behind her. Interlocking her arms protectively around the whimpering girl, the Marquise levelled her gaze with César's as it grew hard and accusatory: how could he? Being angry with her was one matter, refusing to speak to her she could even comprehend, but taking it out on an innocent child? His own daughter? Lips pursed very tightly, Joséphine stared after her husband's retreating back a few seconds longer before squatting down to comfort Adèle, and somehow explain that her 'cher papa' was not angry with her: apparently all she had wanted was to join him for a walk.

“Are you allright, Marquise?”

Joséphine flinched visibly at the sound of those words, suddenly and very searingly aware of Bella's presence: of what she had seen and heard.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Not yet looking at the other woman, Joséphine lowered her head forwards and she closed her eyes for a moment as though trying to recollect herself: she could feel the heat rising in her face, and the cutting sensation of a bucket full of icy water being poured into the pit of her stomach: what could she say? To pretend nothing was wrong was useless – she didn't know Bella well, but she did suspect she was no witless ninny. To tell her the truth? Impossible. Not just for hers and César's sakes, but Octavien's as well, the implications of a scandal at that point could have been...disastrous.

“It's...complicated,” she informed Bella, carefully stressing the word as her jade eyes shifted to their peripheral view to reach the Comtesse, full of silent tenacity. The rest of her body slowly followed them, Joséphine positioning herself face to face with her companion.

“Have you ever willingly accepted deception, Comtesse,”, the Marquise continued, her eyes misting over and her voice attaining a mellow, contemplative tone, “for the sake of someone you loved, all the while craving a truth that in the end was not the solution you've always envisioned it to be?”

A bitter smile briefly emerged on Joséphine's lips, receding as her gaze regained focus:

“If you do not mind, Comtesse, it is something I would rather not delve into at this moment.” she said quietly, gazing entreatingly at Bella, hoping that she would understand it wasn't a matter of trust, but rather of difficulty, something hurtful and not easily made the topic of wedding banquet conversation. Although if entirely truthful, trust did have something to do with it: the woman was little more than a stranger, congenial as she might have seemed. Mustering a smile, she motioned towards Adèle who had forsaken her fright and was chasing Angélique through a patch of grass.

“It is, after all, a joyful event. Shall we join the others in the Grand Dining Room?”


((ooc: I hope it works. :)

Janne - yay she arrived! :D

Also, I know Evening should've been called already, but I felt we could benefit from some more time :) I'll probably call it Monday though))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Hi all! I'm just posting now that I have returned from my trip, and will be posting an RP sometime in the near future, once I have caught up on sleep and read what I've missed. So expect a post either late today or mid to late tomorrow. See yall!))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: Hope this works for you, Ghanima :) )))

Awkward though the situation was, Bella had been compelled to offer support if it was required and thus she had offered the support. This was really nothing to do with her, as far as she knew, and it was a private matter between the Marquis and Marquise Mont de Marsan, and thus, if Joséphine decided that she did not want to break that privacy or that she did not need the support, it was her decision to make and one Bella would respect.

And, it would seem, that that would indeed be the course that the young Marquise decided to pursue upon Bella’s offer.

“It's...complicated,” she replied, searching for Bella’s form out of the corner of her eyes before she turned to face her, resolute in her stance.

Most things in life were complicated and of course, for the Marquis to snap at his own child and then walk away without a word of apology spoken, things had to be bad.

“Have you ever willingly accepted deception, Comtesse,” she continued, the question seemingly not entirely directed to Bella, but more within Joséphine herself. “For the sake of someone you loved, all the while craving a truth that in the end was not the solution you've always envisioned it to be?”

It was not a question intended deliberately for Bella but it may well have been. A select set of words echoed in the young Comtesse’s mind upon Joséphine’s question:

‘Your father does not want to be found.’

Elena’s words, unwelcome though they were, held something that Bella hand relentlessly, disdainfully contemplated for months now. That the problem was not that her father did not want to face his mistake, it was that he did not want to face her. The things she’d said in a moment’s fury… and she couldn’t blame him for it.

So yes, she was indulging in deception, at Elena’s commission, to work through the court and discover what she could about Octavien. To live and breathe a lie every day of every week until the impossible was obtained. To let the charade go on and on until that was all you knew, that was all you were. To deceive yourself to the point where you truly believed it and no-one could tell you otherwise. And Bella had accepted it, because she was living in a web of self-deception anyway. To find a man who does not want to be found, to find a man who may not be alive, to find a man who did not care. Yes, she was indeed living in a grand deception that things were reparable. But it was surprisingly difficult to do.

“If you do not mind, Comtesse, it is something I would rather not delve into at this moment,” Joséphine continued as Bella, unable to meet anyone’s eyes while she struggled to free herself of those crippling thoughts simply absently let her eyes rest on the Mont-de-Marsan children. “It is, after all, a joyful event. Shall we join the others in the Grand Dining Room?”

“Yes,” she uttered, a voice less that a whisper in admittance that she was indeed deluding herself, but with no other choice for what was she supposed to do? Just let it go? And then she snapped out of it, her eyes raised to meet the Marquis, the warm smile growing on her lips and flowing into her eyes as she continued, more enthusiastically. “Yes, let’s. I’m sure she’ll make a delightful princess. What were your impressions of her?”

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: It is now Evening for our courtiers!

Also, I may be slow to reply here until I figure out what happened to my computer yesterday: I don't know whether it was a virus, a hack attempt, system failiure or whatnot, but things were really really bad and I thought I'd lost everything on it. It seemes stable now but it'll take some work to figure out what's going on or whether I need to reinstall windows after all. Sorry, everyone! I'll be back as soon as possible.))

[AtropaMandragora]

Just like time had seemed to be out to spite him earlier, emotional balance in any way, shape or form now seemed to constantly elude him. Drifting out of his grasp every time he tried to reach for it, slipping through his fingers as easily as morning mist, he simply could not seem to achieve it. It had been bad enough to have the disaster of yesterday's picnic weighing down on his young shoulders and make it all the more difficult for him to act his part of the suave Prince, during a time when he really needed to stay focused. He had managed, though only the Lord himself would know how, and the only ones who would have sensed that something was not right, were those who knew him well. And of those, the majority - Joséphine and César - were already painfully aware of what was bothering him. More than likely, Isabella, the Queen, had sensed that something was the matter as well, but as she knew he was hardly marrying Elena out of love, or was even particularly happy about doing so for any other reason, she would most likely ascribe it to that simple fact.

Also possibly aware that his mind was not filled with happy thoughts and rose petals, was Elena. She was a perceptive, intelligent woman, and for the entire day, she hovered closer to Octavien than any other person, sitting right by his side during the wedding banquet, floating close to him during the dances they shared. However, one of the small blessings in the chaos that had ruled the last couple of days, was the fact that he really had every reason to have mixed feelings - to put it mildly - about the marriage. Elena knew better than anyone that the union was not one of love, and add to that the fact that Octavien had just been widowed by a young, beautiful woman he was believed to have loved dearly, and it would be quite understandable indeed that he had to reach far within himself to muster each of the many and amiable smiles he produced during the day.

Another blessing, though a most bittersweet one, was that the pressure on Octavien was somewhat easened by César's apparent absence following the wedding ceremony itself. It pained the young Prince to know that one of his best friends might be a friend no more, and not even be able to stand being in the same room as Octavien, but at the same time... Right now, every time Octavien's gaze touched Joséphine, and César as well before he had departed, he felt himself come one step closer to faltering, and so, sad and hurtful though it may be, César's absence really did have the faintest of silver linings.

Though it was a small comfort indeed, and one that would prove to be short-lived, as just when Octavien thought he finally had himself and his state of mind somewhat under control, fate decided to strike once more, and the next in the long line of things to swipe his feet from underneath him came along. And in the shape of something he had thought would actually bring him some additional inner strength, too.

It had all started when disguised as nothing more than a polite gesture, he had invited his mother-in-law, his beloved Isabella, to a dance, as a way of at least holding her in his arms, if that was all he would get a chance to do during her all too brief return to the Palace. She had asked then that they would each try to get away, just for a few minutes, as she had something important to tell him. Even through her usual, placid mask, he had caught the urgency in her voice, and knew that whatever it was, it really must be very important.

It was.

Within the hour of the dance, they both found a window of opportunity to slip away unnoticed, as it was impossible for anyone to keep track of a single person in the constantly moving sea of colorful gowns, suits and extravagant headdresses currently filling the Palace. Having found that his own suite housed a secret staircase, much like the one connecting the Princess suite with Duc Peitou-Charentes' old one - now, ironically, the de la Valliére one - Octavien ventured upstairs to the royal floor, and then back downstairs via said secret staircase, to the currently and conveniently empty suite below, to which Isabella had gone as well, from the ballroom, leaving behind what she had first carefully made sure was a deserted corridor. There, inside the empty suite, they had their first conversation away from the prying eyes of the court - and a certain Baroness Flight - in what seemed like forever.

Although they both knew time was far too short for them to enjoy it the way they wished to, for the first few minutes, they could at least pretend. Without a word, they met in a passionate embrace, each holding the other tightly to their body as though they both dreaded the moment they would have to let go, and their lips locked together in a kiss holding every ounce of desirous longing they would not get to express in any other way, in any other place, for what they both feared would be an all too long time. Once they finally parted, as slowly as they did reluctantly, Isabella gazed up at Octavien for a moment, with a faint smile on her lips, not yet ready to knowingly add to his already heavy burden. Instead, she put a hand lightly against his chest, absent-mindedly caressing the delicate lace ruffles and gold embroideries of his wedding suit, while quietly commenting on how magnificent he looked, and, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, how indeed during her brief absence it would seem the giggling between servant girls had now spread to be heard among the ladies of the court as well. It was a comment to which Octavien couldn't help but to grin, and as a pure reflex, he gave the reflection in a nearby mirror a quick glance. And, he had to admit, he really didn't look too bad. The embroideries complimented the golden sheen of his hair, and the white silk fabric brought out the intensity of his blue eyes. Add to that his his clean cut features, and his proud yet casual poise, and it was not a royal apprentice looking back at him. It was a Prince. From head to toe, a Prince.

It was almost funny, how he himself had not noticed, nor really cared, having been rather preoccupied with other matters. In fact, he had been rather relieved when it seemed Elena stole most of the show. Not that he normally would have paid so little attention, as he wasn't nor had ever been prone to hide in the shadows, but rather shine and live up to his role as a nobleman, and now a Prince. And he probably would have made the effort, had he not had other things on his mind, and thus surrounded himself with that elusive, intangible air that on some profound, subconscious level of which those around him were not really aware, communicated that he wanted to be left alone. At least, that was what he'd thought had been part of the reason why most of the attention seemed to be directed at something other than him, whether it was Elena, the King and Queen, or the lavish decorations. But, as it would seem, he had been wrong, both in thinking the others had picked up on that certain air he'd had about him, and in thinking he'd escaped most of their curious albeit appreciative attention. According to Isabella, he too had been the target of many sets of eyes, which had been following him since first he'd sat foot in the aisle that had lead him to the altar. Some stained with envy, others with admiration and others yet with what Isabella claimed to be desire. It seemed over the last couple of days, the Prince's star among the other nobles had been on quite the rise, and that now that he had married Elena to seal an alliance with Spain, they realized his presence at court was far more secure, and that he would not risk being sent off to some far away country as a diplomat. He would now be a force to be reckoned with, something previously known only by Isabella. And, now that it was 'official', of course it would draw the attention of people to him. He'd been well liked already as an untitled man, for his kind and gentle manners towards everyone, servants as well as other courtiers. But, when he'd begun climbing the ranks, it had seemed as though most grew a little more wary of him, as though suddenly he had gone from being just a nice young man, to an actual threat. And when he'd been crowned Prince, well, then their suspicions had been confirmed. He had been a rival in their endless battle for power, and most hadn't even seen him coming. Although, there had still always been a few who had maintained what had seemed to be genuine liking and approval of him, and now that it became evident that he wasn't about to loose what power he had gained any time soon, the number of people who displayed their approval was starting to grow. But, whether it was genuine of not, of that he had his doubts. To have the Prince of the kingdom on one's side could be quite advantageous to one's own interests, and in a court filled with ambition and greed, a young Prince would be wise not to believe everything he heard and saw, without contemplating possible ulterior motives first.
Though given the recent events, and the suspicion they had instilled in Octavien, it would seem that was hardly going to be a problem...

However, neither Octavien's striking good looks nor the joint epiphany of the court had anything to do with the urgent business on Isabella's mind, and no matter how desperate they were to prolong the moment, they both soon realized they could not put it off any longer, lest they be gone long enough to make people wonder. Thus, that small piece of comfort offered by the minutes alone with Isabella, was soon yanked right out of Octavien's hands once more.

Starting with a deep sigh - which in itself was enough to produce a small crease of worry between Octavien's blonde, aristocratic brows, but to Isabella seemed merely a way to muster the courage to tell him the news, since a moment later a small and slightly excited smile appeared on her lips - she then dropped the bomb; she was with child. And, considering it had been several months since last she had recieved a nightly visit from her husband, the King, there was no mystery as to who was the father.

In that very instant, the world stopped turning. At least, that was how it felt to Octavien. Several seconds passed, with him simply staring at Isabella as though frozen in time, and it seemed as though he had been rendered utterly incapable of producing a single lucid thought. Then, it all snapped into motion again, and instead of standing still, the world seemed to throw itself into an out of control spin around him, making him so dizzy that he had to sit down, slumping down into the nearest chair. Thoughts were racing through his head, feelings through his heart and his gut, so fast he felt as though he could no longer breathe. There had already been so much coursing through him - guilt, shame, bitterness, anger, over what he had done to César, to Joséphine, and to Isabella, and over what was being done to him - that there had been no room for more. And now there was a battalion of new feeling forcing it's way into his mind. Shock, confusion, fear, and... something else. Something which at first, he couldn't identify. It was only once he finally managed to look up, and saw the expression on Isabella's face, that it dawned on him. Happiness, and excitement. It was written in her eyes, in every single one of her beautiful features, plain to see despite the thin veil of worry and dread. And it was slowly starting to seep into his own.
A child. His child. Their child.

Needless to say, he'd made his way back to the banquet in a daze, and didn't actually remember too much of what had happened after he had left the vacant suite where once again Isabella had turned his life upsidedown. It had all been a blur of polite smiles and greetings, of gratulations and well wishes. The delectable food didn't taste anything, nor did the sweet wine, and when they all gathered on the large stone balcony to witness the majestic fireworks exploding in the sky, multicolored sparks lighting up the obscurity of beginning dusk, in honor of the newlyweds, the only thing Octavien would remember of it was the noise cutting through his inner dialogue, and making it so much more difficult to hear himself think. Yet no one seemed to notice how distant he really was, as somehow, he still managed to appear fully present, like one does when acting on social instinct, following along a path already set.

It was only when came time for the royal bride and groom to withdraw, that he suddenly snapped back to reality, faced with yet another situation that caused an uproar of emotions inside of him; the wedding night. The night of sharing the bed of a woman whom he did not love, and this time knowing there would be no escaping the... expectations. Unlike Adalita, Elena was not already pregnant, and marrying him only to save face, nor was she as... experienced as the previous Princess had apparently been. Indeed, he had even been informed that she was entirely pure. Add to that the fact that there was no understanding between her and Octavien whatsoever, and it would seem the act of consummating the marriage was not an optional one. It had to be done...

Together, the two of them made their way towards Elena's suite, a long trail consisting of the King and Queen, the Archbishop and about a dozen of the most prominent courtiers following behind them, to see the newlyweds into bed, as was customary. However, that was all they were going to do, and for that Octavien was eternally grateful. He doubted very much he would have been able to consummate anything, knowing there was a minor crowd standing behind the bed curtains, listening, and that one of them was Isabella. Now that really would have made things twisted; to be intimate with a woman he didn't love, while the woman he did love, was forced to listen in on it. Euripides, eat your heart out.

Luckily, they all simply watched as the servants started undressing the Prince and Princess, leaving only the undergarments before slipping the nightshirt and nightgown, respectively, over their heads, and how the cut on Octavien's arm recieved a quick but careful cleansing and some new bandadges, before he joined Elena in the large bed. With both of them sitting next to one another, the down comforter pulled neatly and properly up to their waists, the young couple recieved both the King's and the Archbishop's blessing. Then, the curtains were drawn, and they listened as their 'audience' departed, the shuffling of feet and the closing of the doors announcing that they were now gone, leaving behind what to Octavien sounded like a deafening silence.
How on earth would he get through, or preferrably out of this one?

"Well...", he said after a few moments of that most awkward silence, managing only a brief glance in Elena's general direction. "Goodnight then..."

And with that, he slid further down underneath the covers, partly turning his back to her in the process, as if preparing to simply go to sleep. It was almost as though by avoiding to address the matter of what was supposed to happen next, he hoped it would just magically go or away, that she would somehow think he was too exhausted by the day's event to stay awake a minute longer, or heck, even too dense to realize what was expected of him, and that she would somehow be too modest to enlighten him. Either option suited him just fine.


(((ooc: Sorry it's so extremely long. :blink: I swear, I set out to write like a fourth of all this... It's just that... my boys are really emotional right now, so it's difficult to keep it short. :P
Also, Ghanima, I hope what I wrote works? If not, let me know.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena and Octavien - The Palace ---> Elena's Suite


When Elena turned around to face the congregation of nobles side by side with her new husband, the Princess shone through every pore of her being to produce that picture-perfect image of a patrician bride smiling down from the pedestal at her faithful subjects cheering below. Her lips carried a smile indeed, wide and unrestrained in a way Elena rarely allowed herself to smile, radiating the one feeling that swelled inside her: happiness. To most, it was the joy of a young wife on her wedding day, perfectly natural and unquestionable. None but Octavien stood close enough to glimpse the triumphant glimmer smouldering in the very core of those umber eyes of hers, hinting at the real source of her jubilation: the crowning achievement of a carefully planned series of events, having achieved what she had set out to do.

What followed was a flurry of congratulations, words of praise and good wishes and a hundred pairs of eyes each following the couple along as it glided through the aisle and towards the Palace where the banquet was being held. Elena just had the time to catch a glimpse of cousin Alfredo with the corner of her eye as she passed him by, pleased to notice that his magnificent moustache was drooping just like his shoulders were. At her side, Octavien maintained his diplomatically feigned joyful disposition rather valiantly if Elena thought about it, considering she had been observing him up-close all morning and had noticed the grave misgivings he must have harboured. She had felt the hesitation contained in that very first kiss they had shared at the altar, and seen the brief quiver of his lips preceding it, the way he felt reluctant to gaze at her for longer periods of time. This was a man who absolutely resented the position he found himself in, reminding Elena of a late night a decade ago, when she had been only sixteen years old, standing at the foot of her mother's death bed, an avalanche of perceived consequences hurtling across her from every side: Duque Carlos would remarry, have other children, even a son, who would change everything. All that was hers would be transferred to him. Remembering the old fear, Elena understood the similar rebellion Octavien felt towards being forced into a marriage he did not want, having the choice taken out of his hands –logical understanding Elena was capable of, yes, but not pity. Difficult situations were life's way of testing an individual's worth, the way soft metal was made into steel: just as she had managed to avoid being pushed aside by a potential stepmother and brother, the Prince would have to find his own way of coping with his arranged marriage and with her, his wife: if he was smart, in a mutually beneficial manner. Besides, the more she learned about him, the stronger grew Elena's belief that Octavien wasn't quite the unwitting pawn he appeared to be, that he had chosen to play the sordid game of politics with a full knowledge of the rotten core coated in a layer of gold: if that was the case, well...he should be aware wealth and power never came without inherent peril and personal sacrifice.

The following couple of hours Elena spent sampling delectable food and wine, a few dances in Octavien's company and several more at the polite request of several high ranking nobles both from Spain and France (unsurprisingly, cousin Alfredo never offered), the rest being composed to gracious acknowledgements of congratulations and light conversation, the kind common to such events. Some even inquired whether she had planned any names for hers and Octavien's first-born, while others engaged in predictions of when the happy event would take place and whether it would be a son or a daughter. Naturally, everyone had very positive expectations. Little by little, Elena's patience drained out of her and she had to suppress a sigh of relief when light exploded out of the sky in a flurry of multicoloured flames blossoming across the havens, announcing the moment when the royal pair would retreat from the company of their courtiers, who would continue the banquet throughout the night.

This signified the beginning of yet another crucial phase contained in the series of predestined events of that day: Elena and Octavien's wedding night. As to what it was expected to happen, few doubts existed, further enforced by the cortège of individuals who saw the pair to bed, including the King and Queen as highest laic authority and the Arch-Bishop invested by God. It was certainly an awkward situation, though not as awkward it had been in the past, when the newly-weds were forced to consummate their marriage with a silent audience hovering beyond the curtains. Quite frankly, the thought of it filled Elena with revulsion.

Given Octavien's proven reluctance, Elena did not quite know what to expect when at last the doors closed and they were left, alone, in bed beside each other. She assumed that among all his 'obligations' that day he would find this easiest to fulfil, and one he might actually find enjoyable. He had not married a crone, after all. They shared no love, that was true, but Elena knew perfectly well feelings and physical pleasure did not necessarily have to be mutually inclusive. In fact, more often than not, they weren't. All she needed to do was play the part of the virginal bride and avoid giving away the fact that in reality she was far more experienced, relying on the undeniable proof her body would provide, even with the added discomfort of it.

"Well...", the Prince began as he slid further underneath the covers "Goodnight then..."

A profound silence settled, during which Elena surveyed Octavien's profile through lowered eyelids, her charcoal brows forming a distinct arch; loosened from their elaborate knot, jet black tresses fell heavily around her face and on her breast, encased in a pure white lace nightgown. Octavien's rejection came as a bit of a surprise, particularly because it was so clear, devoid even of the suggestion that the Prince was aware of what was meant to happen during one's wedding night.

Or rather, of what he so clearly wished to avoid it. Elena found it impossible to attribute Octavien's behaviour to anything else, considering he had been married before and furthermore, even the densest of men would have been coached in such elementary notions. No, he simply refused. This realization stung Elena, bringing her eyebrows together in a loose frown: no man had refused her before, and here was her husband doing just that, on their wedding night no less! A fragment of the carefully arranged image of nuptial perfection was chipped away, for it wasn't something Elena had even considered a problem, that a young, healthy man like Octavien would be...unwilling. To her it was a matter of pride and entitlement, of what was supposed to happen, as for him...did he have another woman, a lover? Possible, though Elena hardly considered that a real impediment to a man's lust. As for other possibility....

To test it, Elena lowered herself on one elbow just behind Octavien, her chin hovering a mere inch from the slope at the back of his neck which brought her lips in line with his ear. A curtain of black tendrils flowed forward, settling lightly on his shoulder.

“What's the matter?” she asked on a low, inquisitive tone, adding just the faintest hint of sulking. She needed to present herself as a confused young bride. “Do you find me that unpleasant?”

((ooc: Works perfectly, and er, you're not the only one with a small novel :blink:

Alissa - Jo's post coming tomorrow, so sorry for the delay!))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: I haven't even started reading, and I am so bloody tired... but I wanted to post something. Twelve word post ftw! OK not reall, bu in comparison...))

The previous evening had seen Larkin arrive at the kitchen, steer Adele from any particularly unsavory bits of culinary information, and enjoy said nonentities himself in the warm company of Ambrose and several scullions who did not know quite what to make of him. Or the baroness before she left, a bit more quickly than was seemly, but Larkin did not care overmuch, his stomach was full and the rowdy servants were probably better company anyway. At a somewhat reasonable hour of the evening a portly cook chased him and Ambrose out, Larkin did not object at all, he had learned a long time ago that making an enemy of the people feeding you was a bad idea.

The next morning Larkin awoke with an intense sense of foreboding, that something, somewhere was going to go badly for someone. Always one to trust his instincts, Larkin rolled over and went back to sleep.

Several hours later Ambrose walked into the room with a tray of fruit and bottle of wine, which he promptly dropped. On the happily asleep Larkin's head. Which made larkin reconsider his pretty cavalier attitude toward his servants. That rushed right out the proverbial window as Ambrose babbled, "Sir, I thought you would get up for the royal wedding, you missed it by ages! You have to go now or you will be so deep in sh-"

Larkin barked out something that sleep fog masked, which was probably better for Ambrose, and dressed hurriedly in a black doublet and embroidered pants- suitably formal, but understated enough to show his general disapproval of the entire thing. And black because the old princess had been dead for less than a month. Even if he'd never met the girl, and even if he approved of the match with Spain, he thought it in poor taste. That was the advandtage of powerlessness, one could still believe in things.

He marched out of his room to the grand ballroom only to find it utterly deserted. An apologetic looking girl whom he had chatted with breifly the other day told him that the reception was in the dining room, even though it was smaller than the ballroom the sevants had rearranged all the tables carefully and left room for dancing and everything. She looked quite pride of the accomplishment, as if she had any significant role in it. In Larkin's present mood, that was not well appreciated and he offered the girl no further comment before turning on his hell to the other room. A ball in a dining room... even with clever furniture arranging wouldn't it be a bit cramped?

That opinion lasted about as long as it took Larkin to find an unobtrusive way into the hall. Somehow he had not made the leap between the grand and mighty palace of light and air having an equally grand- and huge- grand dining room. One plenty big enough to hold a royal wedding reception, and have plenty of room for dancing. And he reluctantly gave the servant girl some credit, any rearrangement of furniture- which still had doubtless been required- was so subtle as to make the room still fit.

The bride and groom appeared to be long gone, and larkin recognized his own mood as one not good for company. He had come in through a back entry way, not the one the waiters were using he wasn't that cavalier about servants, but a mere rear door. There weren't any empty tables where he could drink himself into a stupor in preparation for the hell he would receive about missing the ceremony- unless no one noticed? No, that would be too much to hope for.

He arranged for a plate of food and sat down next to someone, pretty much at random. They were conversing, but Larkin simply nodded and hoped that no one would be offended. There was limited seating after all.

((OOC: That was lame, but he could have sat by anyone))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Am I the only one thinking the banquet following a royal wedding wouldn't exactly leave the ballroom deserted until the wee hours of morning, at the earliest, and that food would be served for just as long? :D :P )))



Damn, damn, double damn. The very moment Octavien slid further underneath the covers in his attempt to escape this last one of his obligations for the night, he realized what a giant mistake he had made. Not in trying to avoid doing what he wasn't particularly willing to do, but in the way he went about it. Already during his very first conversation with Elena, which had been sadly brief but still highly informative as to how keen her eyes and mind were, she had proven to be quite a brave lady, seemingly completely unafraid to risk hitting a raw nerve with him even at such an early point in their acquaintance. Given that, she would hardly be anywhere near too modest to not only point out his reluctance, but question it as well.
That was his first mistake.

His second; turning away from her, onto his injured shoulder. With the wound having been torn open once again the other day, when he had been playing the knight in shining armor to Joséphine's lady in distress, it still wasn't well enough to support his weight without a sharp pain searing through his shoulder and causing it to throb with anticipation to escape the sudden and highly uncomfortable pressure he'd just put on it. And it left him with no choice but to turn again, onto his back once more, while a slight wince stole across his face, a tell-tale sign that the injury was indeed still causing him a great deal of discomfort.

Consequently, he ended up with his face a mere few inches from Elena's, only a few seconds after she had uttered her rather accusatory question, and was made painfully aware that his chances of squirming out of this one without offending her were fizzling like the last glowing embers of a dying fire in heavy rain.

Was she unpleasant? In looks, in demeanor, in overall representation?
The answer would be... No. She was quite comely, to put it mildly, with her dark features and her skin of smooth, glowing bronze, with her smouldering cinders currently gazing at him, depths filled with mysteries and secrets, holding an irresistable allure to practically any man. She was intelligent and quick-witted, a skilled and entertaining conversationalist on most any matter, and her mien was that of a true lady; demure without being meek, soft-spoken without risking having her voice be drowned out by others, confident and noble but not demanding or arrogant.
No, she was by no means unpleasant. And she bloody well knew it, despite that slightly disconcerted look on her face, and the verbal pout. Thus, her umbrage came not from bruised self-esteem, but more likely, a bruised ego. No woman, or man for that matter, enjoyed rejection, and to be rejected on their very wedding night... Well, if she was offended, it was only understandable.

It was just that... He would rather keep refusing and risk insulting her, than to go through with what was expected of him, for the truth of the matter was that while he could think of a few reasons to fulfill his duties, he could think of about a million not to. A million, out of which two stood out; Guilt, and Isabella. Two reasons that were connected, but still two very different ones. To Octavien, it would still feel like a betrayal of Isabella to be with another woman, even though it wouldn't be entirely by choice, and even though he was well aware that Isabella shared a similar fate. But neither fact made it any easier. Now granted, he hadn't had much trouble seducing women with whom he wasn't yet in love before. In fact, he'd quite enjoyed it. But, a most important difference between then and now, had been that at the time, he hadn't been in love with anyone. Now he was. And... He couldn't just love one woman, and then merrily bed another. He just couldn't. He wasn't César, nor had he ever understood César. Not when it came to these matters.

As for guilt... The sense of betrayal against Isabella was a large part of it, but it was also just that; a part. There was so much more to weigh down his conscience into guilt's darkest pits, such as The Grand Disaster known as yesterday's picnic, and it all had his mind sending too many baneful signals to his heart and his gut, for his body to respond to temptation. And, overpowering guilt did have a way of proving quite detrimental to a man's ability to... perform, and so yes, he would rather risk offending Elena, than to suffer the possible humiliation of... of 'failing'.

Suppressing a sigh, he therefore shot her another brief glance, while shifting ever so slightly away from her, without actually changing his position much.

"I assure you, you are not", he said in a somewhat monotonous voice, though when he continued, there did appear a small ripple of emotion on the surface. "But we have yet to get to know one another."

He didn't care if it sounded silly, weak or effeminate. Let her think he was just that. With a little luck, it would only fuel whatever notion he might have already created in her mind that he was not the sharpest tool in the shed.


(((ooc: Poor Elena! :laugh: I swear I didn't set out to make him that difficult!)))

[paintedgrey78]

((OOC: Atropa - Thanks so much! These titles are confusing, they frustrate me so! :)
slytherin-girl - Sorry I haven't posted in a while, been busy getting ready for school and sports.))

Adele gazed down at the seemingly large porportions of food resting on her plate. Her meal consisted of a wide collection of meats and grains, with a small amount of vegetables and dairy on the side. As her eyes wandered around the room every so often she would take small bites of her meal, sometimes even pushing it around on her plate as if she were a child playing with their food. She was not particularly hungry at the moment, unlike the young man whose attention was mostly on his food. The Marquise de Valois appeared to be looking for someone, for she gazed around the room as if she had intentions of finding a particular person. Yet as to who that person maybe, Adele hadn't the slightest clue. The Marquise then reminded the young man of his manners, then turned around to face her.

“It was amazing, I’ve never seen anything like it” she said in reply to her question. “Especially her highness’ dress, it was exquisite wasn’t it?. Although I don't envy her the time it probably took to put on. Mine was barely half as elaborate and it took me over 2 full hours to get ready”. What the Marquise said caused Adele to break out into a smile, for she knew all to well how long it took to get a dress on.

"I understand completely Marquise," Adele said, laughing quietly. "I feel like a spend most of my time putting on my dress, and by the time I've gotten ready, it feels as though most of my energy was wasted trying to get into it." She felt her lips part as yet another smile emerged on her face.

The Marquise de Valois smiled and looked at her son, the turned to face Adele once more. “Are you here by yourself as well Baroness?” she asked suddenly, all while playing with her necklace. “You weren’t with anyone when you bumped into us”. "Indeed I am," she replied. "But I don't mind it so much, I guess. Though I do feel a bit lonely sometimes...." Her voice trailed of, and her mind seemed to do the same as well. She had been feeling quite alone lately, though she bumped into an occasional familiar face or two. Yet another than that, she had the rest of the time to be on her own, which can become frustrating.

Adele sighed, then turned to face the Marquise. "I mostly spend my time reading or writing, it keeps me occupied." She forced a smile, then turned back to her food, finishing the last bit of it. "But you are not alone," she said, gazing towards the young man. "It must be wonderful to have a child, someone to care for all the time." Realizing that she was letting her emotions get the best of her, she closed her mouth and relaxed a bit in her chair.

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Atropa is right, Furry, the banquet is still going strong in the Grand Dining room :). I had even mentioned it in my post before that.

*snickers at sulky Octavien* Now I'll have to think about what to reply!))

Joséphine and Bella - The Grand Dining Room

A subdued silence settled over the now empty corner currently dominated by Bella, Joséphine and her children, both women momentarily overcome by baleful musings, not even guessing the similarities their predicaments shared. The Marquise's gaze descended over Adèle and Angélique who frolicked about without a care in the world and experienced a pang of regret that she could no longer cast her worries aside as they did. At the same time a sense of gratitude leaked in, towards the fact that both girls had quite a few years of that blissful innocence left to go before time caught up to them: if hers and César marriage was doomed to disintegrate, she would make sure the girls at least remained as unaffected as possible, even if it meant another epic confrontation with her husband.

“Yes,” a soft mutter percolated Joséphine's web of musings, returning her back to reality, which currently included an increasingly dark and chilly garden.

“Yes, let’s. I’m sure she’ll make a delightful princess. What were your impressions of her?”

Side by side with Bella, Joséphine and her daughters passed through the Palace entrance where two pages bowed respectfully as they held the doors open for them; the sound of mingling voices, laughter and the clatter of porcelain reached their ears from afar, along with the scent of food wafting through the air. The Marquise contemplated the question a few moments longer, not quite certain how forthcoming she should be: she didn't wish to imply an insult towards the new Princess, and at the same time she longed to be honest with someone else again, and to trust. Yes, to trust, an increasingly scarce privilege those days.

“She seems to be in her element”, Joséphine formulated as the entrance to the Great Dining Room loomed ahead of them at the end of the corridor. “In my opinion, she is exactly where she wants to be .”

“Which is more than I can say about Octavien” Josephine mused privately.

Taking their seats at the U-shaped table side by side with eachother allowed Bella and Joséphine to continue their conversation. The Marquise sampled a few light dishes, feeling absolutely certain that greenish tint climbing across her cheeks would provoke a very...unpleasant reaction if she attempted anything else.

“Have you considered marriage, Comtesse?” she asked her companion. Quite frankly, she had wondered why a woman of her age, looks and stature had yet to marry.

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: I thought I had implied that i'd read diddly from the last three weeks... and at least I said he went into the ballroom, as opposed tot he dining room. Is semantics, but I don't think it merits changing. Especially since Larkin isnt the sort to actively hunt out the party if it isn't where his first guess would be, seemingly inevitable consequences or no. Not into social conventions.

And besides which, I'm still getting over some major jet lag, don't know how coherently I can RP. I just wanted to post something... I may have Larkin get food later if I feel like having to deal with a higher chance of being approached. Which is not to say that Larkin is not approachable now))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Nobody's accusing you of anything, Furry, Atropa and I just mentioned that the banquet is still going on in the Grand Dining room, and considering it isn't exactly a small event I don't think any servant would have been unware of it and mistakenly inform Larkin that it was over. It's a detail for continuity's sake, not a big deal, so it's up to you what you want to do next. ))

[FurryPanda]

((OOC: Ahhhhhhh.

I see, am editing now. Fynras!

EDIT: Edited))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Elena and Octavien - Elena's suite [Wedding Night of Doom in progress]


If Elena was anything, she was adaptable. No road she had ever ventured through was without unexpected twists and turns, sharp peaks and gullies even the most careful preparations could not oversee, or avoid. When faced with such obstacles, one needed to devise a way of overcoming them, one way or another, and continue reaching towards the goal.

Elena's goal in her marriage to Octavien was to secure wealth and influence, escape the dreary future she faced once Duque Carlos' body was laid to rest beneath the ground and his younger relatives swooped in like a pack of vultures to claim the rich pickings he left behind. Thus far, all things considered, the plan had worked beautifully, though sealing the marriage was in reality only phase one. She had yet to gain a solid foothold in France, both in the minds of her subjects but also in those who would henceforth live nearest to her, one being of course Octavien. If he decided to make himself scarce and refuse to communicate, matters would complicate themselves: true, she had another set of eyes and ears in Bella, but Elena preferred to think of her as a “backup”, and use her own impressions first and foremost.

The young man sighed and shifted gingerly on the pillow, away from Elena whose eyes shot a glance at his shoulder where the bandage concealed a wound: she said nothing of it yet, but recalled Bella's story about Marquess Berini's assassination attempt on the “People's Prince” as she had dubbed him, currently reminding Elena of a headstrong young boy, radiating barely withheld self-righteous rebellion towards what he clearly considered a very unpleasant 'duty'. She could almost sense the tiny ripples of tensions reverberating off his skin that glowed faintly in the amber candlelight, the unspoken refusal to face an awkward situation that had the potential to become even more unpleasant. It was the same reluctance she had seen in him all day, though before the King and the entire Court he had obediently performed what was expected of him. Perhaps he thought that following that ordeal and with just one person to witness his unwillingness, he deserved his small rebellion, or maybe he hoped could get away with it. Ah, if only bedding his wife remained the most difficult trial he would face before the year was over, he could consider himself impossibly fortunate.

"I assure you, you are not", Octavien answered surlily. "But we have yet to get to know one another."

Shifting her position so that she could more easily probe him with her relentless gaze, Elena's eyes narrowed with dry amusement: liar. He had no intention of 'getting to know one another', and she very much suspected he would rather have spent his wedding night – and all consequent nights no doubt – in his own suite. There was a small bubble of emotion that swelled in the intonation of his voice, hinting at the veritable storm that must have been unfolding in the young Prince's mind and heart, possibly due to other reasons that she was so far aware of. Perhaps he truly had another lover and was one of those rare men who couldn't be physically intimate with two women at the same time, or that attempt on his life had shaken him more severely than he let on. Was he starting to realize that being a Prince held far less glamour than most believed?

“And yet here we are, expected to behave as husband and wife” she intoned pragmatically, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, the other idly twirling the lacy sleeve of Octavien's shirt. “Do you believe you are the only one with duties to fulfil, or who has had to make sacrifices? Some will be more difficult than others, but there is nothing to gain in making matters needlessly difficult.”

A surreptitious smile emerged on Elena's lips, suspecting that Octavien might not enjoy the reminder even though it contained one of the rare pieces of genuine advice she offered. Elena was not a seductress, per se – although by no means a stranger to using her feminine wiles, she preferred to have stronger holds on others than the promise of a tryst between the sheets: men were fickle creatures often ruled by their loins, but when money or sensitive information was involved, they proved far more willing to...cooperate. On the other hand, Octavien was her husband, and given her straightforward disposition, Elena wished to establish the manner they would conduct their marriage as early as possible. Being intimate was not a long-term requirement and truthfully she was not particularly interested in it, far more important was a business-like alliance between the two of them, but a child needed to be fathered and for that to happen, it remained a requirement.


((ooc: Thanks, Furry :)

Atropa - hope it works, let me know if you had other ideas for how things should be going etc. And might I add, poor Octavien too :P))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Oh my lord! :laugh: I think I might have to tie Octavien down to keep him from leaving! He's a romantic, and here she takes a pragmatic approach. But yeah, it works. Uhmm... I'm gonna have to think about this one though. *lol*)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: I had been wondering whether to take the romantic approach or the pragmatic one but...somehow romantic didn't feel right, considering this is Elena and all. lol But if I should tone it down and add a little TLC in there let me know, I can change it. I too wasn't sure what to do :P))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: No no, it works. I mean... He'll be even further away from giving in now, but on the other hand, finding out how not to handle him will give Elena more of an idea of how to handle him, right? :D Plus, if he's upset, he'll be more likely to not give a rat's behind about playing dense, and so it'll all come out looking like a clever strategy of Elena's, to have him blow his cover. ;) )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

((ooc: Heheh yeah I had figured it was probably not the best way to get him to warm up to her but...yeah...I guess they'll end up seeing fireworks after all, of a different kind :D))

[Alissa888]

(((OOC: I think it’s socially acceptable by Baroque standards what Bella said about Elena? I wasn’t sure, but she just meant that Elena seems to be quite a capable woman.
Hope this works for you :)
:lol: Poor Elena AND Octavien! )))

There are points in one’s life where they are forced to focus upon points of their reality that they previously ignored, whether purposefully not accidentally. It could be anything, a word, a conversation overheard, a simple turn of events or… a question.

Bella had moved on from dwelling on the pathway her life was taking, knowing that regardless of whatever twists and turns her reasoning took, she would always, again and again, through compulsion, drive and guilt, arrive at the same decision. She had moved on to resign herself to Joséphine’s amicable company, to a conversation that didn’t remind her of all her problems.

“She seems to be in her element,” Joséphine mused, seemingly offering Bella a genuine shred of her awareness. “In my opinion, she is exactly where she wants to be.”

She was no idiot, that was for sure. In fact, it had been Bella’s impression of the young Marquise that a powerful mind behind that saintly exterior. Not in a malicious sense, however, there was quite a difference between knowing something and using it to hurt someone. However, it did beg the question as to why she hadn’t dealt with the problems her husband brought her, or more to the point as she’d phrased it herself, why she willingly indulged in deception.

“I agree,” Bella replied with a smile as both women took their seats at the table. “And I’m sure she’ll have no trouble making what she desires out of it.”

With that, she tasted a few of the dishes laid out before her; they weren’t bad at all, in fact, quite delectable despite the fact that she wasn’t all that hungry. However, turning to her companion, Bella found that Joséphine perhaps did not share the same sentiments as the greenish hue spreading over her complexion suggested. Out of cordiality, Bella decided to follow suit.

“Have you considered marriage, Comtesse?”

Yes, sometimes a question could make an individual consider parts of their lives that they had not thought of before, or preferred not to think of. While Bella could imagine what brought the question on – given that they were currently at a wedding – she had no clue how to answer it simply because she’d just never considered it.

She was nineteen years old. Women of her age were married, with children of their own. Truth be told, until she was fifteen years of age, she had been stationed at an abbey and her father’s first and foremost priority had been to ensure that Bella never discovered what he’d tried to hard to keep secret. Well, that cat crawled out of the bag and after she’d effectively been banished to England, she’d had little trouble adjusting to things, especially given that she adopted a carefree nature just to spite her father.

It did catch the attentions of a few gentleman, two in particular. However, the English, it transpired, were not like the French and while they did attempt – and the term had to be used loosely here – to court her, one thought it would be prudent to seek her father’s permission. That early on. However, that was how really the problem began, for after repeated attempts at contacting him, Ashton Devine was simply nowhere to be found and he wasn’t just ignoring her. Needless to say, Bella left England – and her suitors – in search of her father.

She travelled, everywhere and anywhere, never staying in any place long enough to establish anything and where there was interest budding in that short space of time, Bella could not – did not – reciprocate for she had far more pressing matters on her mind.That was the simple truth. However, that did not mean that she would launch into husband hunting at any point, for if any man did seek to claim her heart, he would have to earn it.

“I must admit I have not, Marquise,” she answered with a slight smile and a hushed chuckle. “I confess I like my independence too much.” That slight smile played out a little more at a realisation of what impression Joséphine had made on her and so she continued with amicability and slightly puckishly: “I suspect you are the same, no?”

[Slytherin-Girl]

Marie-Elisabeth was a woman who loved her luxury. Beautiful gowns, sparkling jewels, and countless other valuable treasures were among her most loved possessions. The Valois Estates were decorated so sumptuously and extravagantly that even her visiting relatives, who were well aware of her tastes, were surprised by it. But the one thing she prized above all others was her son, and she couldn’t help but smile at Adele’s comments about him.

“It must be wonderful to have a child, someone to care for all the time” she had said, and Marie-Elisabeth nodded. “It truly is” she said, gazing fondly at Charles who she could see was beginning to get sleepy. Which was understandable considering the late hour. The bride and groom had already left, and Marie-Elisabeth silently wished that everything would go well for the new Princess. She could well remember her own wedding night, not that she thought of it often, but it was something a girl just didn’t forget. Especially a then 13 year old girl who was undressed and perfumed, and put in bed with a 52 year old man and expected to perform her wifely duty.

Marie-Elisabeth shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued speaking, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “My son is the most important person in the world to me. I don’t know what I’d do without him” she said, smiling at him “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to bother him by asking him a favour”.

“What is it mama” he asked, looking up and trying to hide a yawn behind his hand. “Well mama is getting a bit tired, and was wondering if you would escort her to our new rooms” Marie-Elisabeth said, winking at Adele as Charles nodded enthusiastically. “Of course I will mama” he said, getting up out of his chair and holding his hand out. Marie-Elisabeth got up as well, smiling at Adele before taking the offered hand.

“It was lovely to meet you Baroness” she said, while Charles nodded in agreement “I look forward to talking with you again soon. Have a pleasant evening”. Charles waved and said goodbye as well, before the pair departed from the diningroom and headed through the halls to their suite.


(((OOC: Gah that was kind of short and crappy,I'm sorta stumped right now, but I think it worked anyway. They’re unapproachable now, they’ve gone to bed :P )))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Bella and Joséphine, the Grand Dining Room


There was a moment in any emerging relationship where one or more participants decided whether to pursue it further or let it drift away into the vast planes of 'acquaintances'. In Joséphine's experience, the latter often proved truer than the former, but there had been occasions when she truly wished to better get to know someone.

Such was the case with Bella, whose company she had enjoyed from the very beginning. One could hardly refer to them as friends, but she felt the potential was there. A woman who required no more than the company of one trusted individual to fulfil her interactivity quota, recent events had turned Joséphine's thoughts towards expanding her social horizons, so to say. Part of the anguish she currently felt regarding César and the previous day's disaster was the loss of his companionship, previously a comfort to her for so long. Octavien, another of the few whom Joséphine trusted and felt at ease around (or used to at any rate), was also out of bounds. To put it simply, she could have used a friend at the moment, despite the lack of an incentive to socialize.

“I must admit I have not, Marquise,” Bella replied to Joséphine's question, a soft chuckle spilling of her lips. The sound of it caused the young Marquise to turn away from her almost untouched plate and look at her companion, just in time to notice a most impish smile broadening: “I confess I like my independence too much.”

This answer felt oddly humbling to Joséphine, for it bespoke not only strength of will in order to avoid the most common of fates for any woman but the ability of making it possible: the fact that Bella wore a noble title without having been married suggested the kind of, indeed, independence Joséphine had never been able to wield, despite fantasizing about it often as a girl: to be in full control of her destiny, financially and emotionally independent...unfortunately for that to happen, she would either have to be widowed or loose the large part of her family, neither being options she would have chosen. So, it remained a dream, a fantasy, currently igniting a twinge of envy in her.

“I suspect you are the same, no?”

Joséphine curved a brow in Bella's direction, momentarily surprised by her choice of wording, considering the previous explanation implicated the notion that she had avoided marriage to preserve her independence, the opposite of Joséphine herself, and couldn't help but wonder if she was being facetious. She quickly dismissed the thought however, realizing it bordered on paranoia and the last thing she needed was another worry topping the already existing mountain. Considering it further, Joséphine decided the comment did, in fact, apply to her, though in a different way: although her mariage to César had been arranged by their families, she had never forsaken the right to her free will and individuality. With the exception of his affairs, César had conceded early on to respect her wishes and opinions, and she had never been afraid or ashamed to make a similar point with everyone else. There was also freedom to be found in books and study, knowledge was, after all, power.

“I have seen far too many women living in gilded cages to resign myself to such a fate,” Joséphine agreed. “Although I suppose, eventually, no-one is entirely free, we all have obligations, ties that hold us back. Mine are simply more obvious than others.” she ended and gazed down at Adèle and Angélique, who were yawning in their chairs. It was nearly time to end this joyless celebration.

[AtropaMandragora]

When agreeing to marry Princess Adalita, Octavien had known perfectly well what he was getting himself into. He knew of the duties and the obligations, of the aloofness he'd be supposed to exude, and how nothing should be seen actually getting to him. He also knew that he would be giving up the chance of marrying a woman he loved, and perhaps even the chance of having children of his own. At least legitimate ones, if even that. For some reason, he hadn't imagined fathering a child with Isabella, and because she was the woman he loved and the only one he could imagine sharing his bed with, that ruled out the possibility of fathering another woman's children. At least for as long as he was still with Isabella.

Then, through the twists of fate, he had been released from the shackles he had voluntarily put himself in, and been once again granted the chance of some day marrying someone he cared for, maybe even loved, if things with Isabella ever went awry. He'd had his freedom back, only to have it torn away from him merely a moment later, and a future with a woman he neither cared for, nor could with good reason avoid being intimate with, showed into his hands. Thrown in shackles once again, and this time not as willingly as before.

But, even that he had known could happen. The thoughts of it had danced through his head upon Adalita's death, as he had realized his usefulness to the King had shrivelled up and nearly died along with his precious daughter, and that dead weight was nothing that would be around the royal family for long. Well, not when it had married into the family. The dead weight that was many of the born Princes and Princesses around Europe there was little choice but to keep around, but the ones that had married up to their title, that was a different story. Especially if their spouse died.
No, Octavien had gathered that one way or another, he would be put to good use, or preferrably see to it himself that he made himself of good use. He'd never aspired to being just another noble that drifted aimlessly in life, with his only plans consisting of how to chase the next thrill. He had come here looking for a bit more power to wield, a bit more renown and honor to his name. He had found it, and he was currently trying to make it stick, and grow. Partly through conceeding to the marriage to Elena in the first place; if he was to be used as a pawn, then by God, he would play the game.

What he hadn't expected, was for things to happen so quickly, and certainly not while other aspects of his life were spiralling out of control.

He had been given no time to adjust to his new role as Prince, before being thrown to the wolves by suddenly being widowed and expected to grieve in public like a born royal. And just as he had started to find his footing, he'd been pushed off the cliff again by being betrothed and married, all within a few days, without the slightest chance to catch his breath in between all the tosses and turns. Even without all his other troubles and tribulations, it would be quite understandable for him to be... torn. Anyone in his situation would be, even if they had been born into all this.

And now here he was, in bed and expected to just magically set all his troubles aside and indulge in marital activities with a woman who, as it turned out, didn't have the faintest idea of how difficult things would be for him to do so, nor how she herself was doing a fine job of pushing them from being just difficult, to being bleeding impossible.

"And yet here we are, expected to behave as husband and wife", Elena said, in a voice that sounded as though she was discussing a business arrangement, while fiddling with the lace adorning his nightshirt. "Do you believe you are the only one with duties to fulfil, or who has had to make sacrifices? Some will be more difficult than others, but there is nothing to gain in making matters needlessly difficult."

'And yet', it rang in his head as an immediate sarcastic response mirroring her statement, 'here you are, doing exactly that'. It was only pure will power alone that kept him silent, and the words locked tightly between clenched jaws, while his eyes not only narrowed ever so slightly, but darkened from their usually vibrant blue, to the ominous arsenic of a stormy ocean as they locked with hers.

That was supposed to make him more willing to perform his duties? Completely annihilating any trace there might have been of this possibly being more than just 'business', partly through insinuating he was acting like a spoilt and ignorant child? Oh, his blushing bride was inexperienced indeed, if she thought this got them any closer to consummating anything. The human body did not respond to logic, no matter how evident and clear, and unlike the female one, in the case of a male one, that was a fact that would remain painfully obvious.

"Sometimes the same duties are more easily performed to some than they are to others", he thus finally replied, his voice low but with an unmistakably dark edge. "There are those that have certain circumstances they have no choice but to adhere to, that others have the luxery of needing not to care about. Though that doesn't make said circumstances any less real, and only a fool would disregard them."

There he paused, but only to glance down at the slender fingers toying with the sleeve of his shirt, and withdraw his arm from their touch before continuing, caring little that he was probably shattering the very facade he had previously tried his best to maintain;

"Furthermore, as someone as accustomed to duties as you clearly are, I would expect you to be familiar with the fact that while some people inspire effort in others, there are those who do not. You, my dear, I trust to be intelligent enough to recognize your current category."

After all, if they exited this bedroom in the morning, with Elena's supposed virginity still intact, the shame would not be his alone, or even for the most part. For was it not a woman's duty to appeal to her husband, to entice and to be pleasing enough for him seek her embrace? If he did not, the shadow fell on her. He was a man after all, and as seemed to be the general opinion, when it came to sex and lovemaking, men rarely needed a whole lot of persuasion. And, even if she would claim that the fault was somehow his, it would be in vain, for of the two of them, he was the one who had one marriage already behind him, as well as a few known love affairs, and in neither of them had there ever been complaints in that department.


(((ooc: Ahem... *whistles innocently*)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

Octavien and Elena - acting very unlike their Sims versions


Nobody was fond of realizing they have made a mistake, and least of all Elena, who, for the entirety of her life, had been accustomed to getting her way whether the other participants were willing or not. Willingness was only a convenient bonus for someone with free reign as Elena had at her father's side, with his unconditional support acting like an impenetrable shield around her. In consequence, those who sought to stir trouble tended to find themselves on the receiving end of something far more unpleasant than they had delivered, and Elena remained officially absolved of all guilt: such were the advantages of wealth and disposable pawns that could be used to do one's dirty work.

Overconfidence remained one of her weaknesses, nursed over 26 years of unofficial sovereignty, accustomed to demand and take rather than coax, especially when she felt she was being denied. In the present situation, Elena had underestimated just how deep Octavien's rebellious resentment ran – that in itself was a reminder of the fact that he was not a born noble. Bred aristocrats regarded the topic of arranged marriages with far less angst, for they had been brought up to expect it – choice and especially affection were a happy accident at best. Considering it a business agreement came more naturally to them the higher their rank was. Commoners however had the luxury of choosing their spouse, especially if said commoner was male and at least moderately wealthy, such as Octavien had been. Now, twice already, that choice had been yanked out of his hands and he resented it, and resented being reminded of it, made clear by the way his jaw stiffened and his gaze darkened like the heavens prior to a withering storm.

"Sometimes the same duties are more easily performed to some than they are to others", the Prince began on a low and mirthless tone, "There are those that have certain circumstances they have no choice but to adhere to, that others have the luxury of needing not to care about. Though that doesn't make said circumstances any less real, and only a fool would disregard them."

With that, he promptly withdrew his sleeve from her light tug, leaving Elena's fingers grasping at air for a couple of instants longer before she lowered both hands on the pristine linen. This lion cub had claws after all, she mused as both eyes flared ominously in Octavien's direction, any trace of a smile vanishing. All of a sudden the demure young man of questionable wit crumbled like a badly constructed mask, unveiling the astute mind behind proclaiming that he knew quite well what his duties were, with the luxury of not needing to care about them. It had taken him two days to expose himself, in a way Elena had not expected but was more than ready to make use of, especially in given her increasingly sour disposition. One unknown was eliminated.

The consummation of the marriage was not imperative -that was a fact. The kingdom had a King and Queen to produce an heir to the throne, but Elena needed her own allies and ways of strengthening her own position: obviously her husband would be a valuable one; however, a marriage that began with a failed wedding night would be difficult to steer towards cooperation - bad memories tended to haunt their bearers. Them not seeing eye to eye except when forced by formality was a possibility, and the wild card of Bella remained in place, but sharing an enmity with Octavien would have meant relying more and more on the Comtesse's efforts, running the risk of exposing not only them both but giving Bella an advantage she would have rather kept.

"Furthermore, as someone as accustomed to duties as you clearly are, I would expect you to be familiar with the fact that while some people inspire effort in others, there are those who do not. You, my dear, I trust to be intelligent enough to recognize your current category."

The condescending undertones were enough to ignite the spark that fuelled the fires of Elena's irritation to full-blown anger, drowning her consciousness in the overwhelming impulse to smite her dear husband then and there. A pair of overcast eyes to match his own and thinly-pressed lips mirrored it but for the rest, the Princess succeeded to contain it, though with much difficulty. Her right arm gave an almost imperceptible quiver, but it did not leave her side. It was ironic, the one time she had decided to lay the matters down and call them as they were, free of the charade that had surrounded them from the beginning, she was shown that people wanted to be deceived. Octavien had a shocking nerve to demand 'effort inspiration' when the entire day he had treated her like an unpleasant chore he simply turned his back to -literally- the moment he was no longer under the public eye, without as much as pretending to give an explanation, or making any effort to transform it into something that was less of a lie. A man who apparently did not wish to be seduced but implied that he expected his bride to go out of her way to entice him when treated her with firm rejection the moment they were left alone. Did he want to sweeten the moment and make believe it wasn't in fact a duty when he had been treating it like one the entire time? If being 'inspired' was what he wanted, then he was certainly setting a very poor example.

The fact that had the tables been turned, she would have had little choice in the matter, whether he appealed to her or not, inspired or uninspired, did nothing to alleviate Elena's vexation. But yes, a man had the luxury of refusing, and setting double-standards, later easily blamed on the woman if needed. Well, there was another, far more berating explanation for an unconsummated marriage, and no man Elena
could think of would enjoy that sort of rumour attached to his name. Gossip was notoriously unforgiving. After all, as the experienced one of the two, with one marriage behind him, wasn't he expected to initiate things and coach his virginal bride?

Despite itching with the temptation of hurling every last one of these thoughts straight back to Octavien that very minute, Elena realized that given the current tension swelling between them, even if he happened to recognize the truth in it, the only achievement would be to further drive him away. No, she would have to adopt a more empathetic mien: as they said, if Mohammed didn't go to the mountain....

“People inspire one another,” Elena began very calmly, careful to sound honest rather than accusatory, “From the very beginning I have been told to expect this union to have less to do with you and me and more to do with...events that are beyond our ability to control; today, there was little I have experienced to suggest otherwise, though I had...hoped.”

Managing to translate those impetuous thoughts into a phrase that could perhaps remind Octavien that he wasn't the only participant in their marriage brought back a sense of calm. He didn't know she had been the one to arrange their union, no-one knew for the preparations had been exchanged between Duque Carlos and King Edouard. For all he knew, she was as much a political pawn as he was, stuck in the same web of unwanted duties and obligations. Didn't that place them on the same side?

“I also fear you misunderstood my admittedly ill-formulated comment”, Elena continued, deciding it was worth admitting fault there, and show that she realized she had made a mistake “I know neither of us finds the situation we have been given an ideal one, but it was given nonetheless. What I meant was that we now have an opportunity: we can allow it to become extremely unpleasant, or we can try and make the best of what we do have.”

Elena paused suggestively, by that moment certain that Octavien would realize she did not refer only to their wedding night, but all of the days and nights that would follow.

“You mentioned earlier that we do not know eachother. That is true, and we never will, if we do not...try.”


((ooc: okay, huge, but I had so much going on in my head I wanted to include it all.))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: *snickers* Very unlike their sim versions indeed *snickers again* They're giving ME and Cesar a run for their money)))

[Alissa888]

There are certain moments in life where one realises how repetitive their life is, that everything that happens to them has happened before to another, in another time and in another place, but surely, those have happened. So, there was never a loss of inspiration of what to do, what to say, the quotes and learning from history in it’s very best form. Thus, theoretically, no situation was ever beyond salvage.

Also, theoretically, it could just well be that ‘another time and another place’ were two variable factors that were not too different from the time and place in which the primary individual was. It wasn’t entirely unfeasibly that, regardless of how much of a coincidence it was, there was someone else in your vicinity, that shares predicaments very similar to yours. Or even similar sentiments.

However, when one realises such a similarity, one must be equally astute in their articulation when verbally recognising the parallel. Thus, watching Joséphine fine brow curve in response to Bella’s statement, the Comtesse did wonder whether she’d chosen the correct way to highlight the comparison. Perhaps not as it would seem, but despite the differences in the two women when it came to claiming independence – Bella avoiding marriage to keep hers and Joséphine possibly accepting marriage to earn hers – there was a similarity, an obvious one to Bella, at how both women coped with it. Bella would wager a bet that even if César was prone to controlling behaviour – not a likely scenario, admittedly – Joséphine wouldn’t simply let him get away with it. Granted, there wouldn’t be the fiery wrath that Elena would cunningly exert in such a situation, but there would be something nonetheless.

“I have seen far too many women living in gilded cages to resign myself to such a fate,” the young Marquise conceded, to which Bella let a sincere appreciative smile steal across her rose lips, only to dull momentarily upon Joséphine’s next statement. “Although I suppose, eventually, no-one is entirely free, we all have obligations, ties that hold us back. Mine are simply more obvious than others.”

How very true that no-one was entirely free. Yes, there were startling levels to freedom and being women, the Marquise and Comtesse were even less likely to reach it’s brighter hues than their male counterparts. That said, however, freedom, in any form was still cherished freedom. Getting more and more caught up in her web of lies though Bella was, she would always have the freedom of thought and likewise, so did Joséphine.

Though, it was the way the Marquise’s gaze drifted towards her children that tugged at Bella. Did she consider them as mere obligations? Not entirely likely, she seemed to be a loving mother if anything, so what was it that made her feel so tied down? Her marriage itself? Her husband with whom things seemed turbulent?

“But, just as how there are several degrees of freedom, there are several forms of freedom, Marquise,” she pointed out with a warm smile, her eyes raising themselves from the tired children back to their mother. “Most importantly, freedom of mind, something that never really can be tied down.”

So, yes, though Joséphine and Bella both had their obligations, they still, in every right, had their own will, their own thought and power of mind to writhe their way out of whatever ties that had them bound. Women though they both were, they were also clearly intelligent women and through that, they were already free of most society’s restrictions on its female citizens. Where there was a will, there was a way, no?

(((OOC: Hope this works for you, Ghanima, and sorry for the delay! :) )))

[xJOFLx]

OOC: ARRRGHHH! I was almost done with my post when something happened to my window and everything I did went out the window! :(
I might try and re-post it, but we'll see... ugh.

[AtropaMandragora]

Octavien had not set out to be unpleasant towards Elena. Indeed, had he not done quite the opposite, and been very amiable, albeit a bit distant, towards her? Today, as well as during their first meeting. He'd told himself that just like him, she might be a victim of circumstance, of other people's will, and that there was no reason to take his anger and frustration out on her. And even if she wasn't just a pawn, but had something to do with the entire thing herself - after all, considering her 'advanced' age and the two facts that this was her first marriage, and that she was quite pleasing to the eye, it did suggest that there was a bit more to the story than just appeared on the surface, or else she would have married a long, long time ago - she was not the one ultimately responsible for Octavien's situation. Nor was the King, which one might have thought would have been the one Octavien would hold responsible.

But no. The one ultimately responsible for the entire thing, was Octavien himself. He had married Adalita, willingly and knowingly, even if it was out of a sense of duty and honor. He had known what he had gotten himself into. And when told he had been betrothed, only a day after his first wife's funeral, he had had two choices; accept, or refuse. Octavien, being the headstrong young man that he was, might have very well refused and faced whatever consequences there would be with his head held high, had he not deemed it more beneficial to himself and his own interests to go along with it. He did not blame anyone else, nor did he blame himself, all for the simple fact of 'blame' not being the right word for it. An opportunity had been given, and it was one that he intended to use.

So, what bothered him about the entire thing, enough for him to make his reluctance in this case known, was not the role he was playing in it, but that people insisted on treating him as a pawn, even when he had made it quite clear that what he did, he did out of his own free will. He would not be forced, and he would have a say in how the game was played. It was as simple as that.

Isabella had known it from the start, Adalita along with her lover, and not to mention Marquess Berini, had been made aware of it as they went along, as had both the Duc d'Lorraine and the King as well. Now the turn had come to Octavien's new darling wife to be made aware of it. He would not be treated as a mere commodity, a trained dog on a leash, expected to perform tricks on command. In Adalita's, Silvius' and Marquess Berini's case, that was a fact he had imposed on them to the point where they had no choice but to back down, and to back down unconditionally. In the case of Duc d'Lorraine and the King, there had been a bit of... well, Octavien would call it compromise. They chose to accomodate him, and he chose to accomodate them.

Now, in the case of Elena... While Octavien had agreed to marry her, and was well aware that like him she could have been used as an (intended) pawn, there was quite a bit of doubt eating through that notion. First and foremost because of pure logic; again, her age. Twentysix years old and only just now married for the first time; it did suggest that there was more to the story indeed, that more than likely and for whatever reason she'd enjoyed a freedom similar to the one Octavien himself had cut short; to wait until someone she actually wanted came along, and marry only then. She was a beautiful woman, and in manner not a complete harpy, although she did surround herself with quite a demanding air, which he had just seen made far more tangible, through her statement regarding duties and sacrifices.
Secondly, because of the smile on her lips as they had been announced man and wife. It had been a genuine one, and since Octavien was certain to the point of being willing to bet his life on it that her happiness of being declared his wife, had little to do with him as a person, it too suggested that in all of this, she was not a mere pawn.
Thirdly, there simply was far too much spirit in her, to surrender to a fate she did not want.

All of the above were each in their own right reasons for him to set his foot down now, and show that while he might be willing to accomodate, it would be in the form of compromise, and never unconditional surrender. He would accept an intelligent and strongwilled wife, he would even accept an ambitious one, who more than likely saw him simply as a means to and end, the necessary second party of a business deal. But by God, he would not be treated like it. Especially not if she expected him to fulfill his marital duties. He was not the kind of man who would bed a woman just because others thought he should. Never would 'the act', whether it be that of lovemaking or just a plain old roll in the hay, be reduced to nothing but a different kind of handshake to seal a deal. Furthermore, if there was no emotion - and Elena's frank statement had made it quite clear that indeed there was not - then there was no way of changing the circumstances Octavien had spoken of; the circumstances he had no choice but to adhere to, but she enjoyed the luxury of needing not care about, namely the matter of arousal being a necessary ingredient for 'consummation' to be physically possible.
So, if she wanted wanted something to happen, but could not be genuinly interested in his touch, then she would just have to pretend. There were times when deception, known or not, was simply a necessity.

However, given the harshness of his statement, and the way it made her eyes flare much like hers had done his, he didn't expect that even if she did concede, it would happen now. She was after all, like he had already established a few times now, far too spirited to just yield, and so at this point, he didn't except her to accept his touch any more willingly than he had accepted hers, even if he did change his mind and decide to give it a try. In fact, he got the distinct impression that it was only a willpower just as strong as the one he had exercised when not getting up to leave a few seconds ago, that now kept her from banning him from her suite, effective immediately, and in her eyes he saw not only rage, but thoughts of how to deal with being still untouched come morning, flashing by. Possible plans of how to shift the blame onto him. Well, if that was the case, then let her try. There were few things she could accuse him of, directly or indirectly, that he could not counter. His history with women alone had given him a reputation for being a virile young man, perfectly capable of bedroom activites. Whispers of impotence or a perverse preference in gender would be far-fetched indeed, and quite easily proven wrong, and as for plain unwillingness... Well, he was a widower, was he not, just having suffered the loss of his first wife whom, for all anyone knew, he had loved dearly? And not only him, but the people of France as well. If he was unwilling to bed another woman while the memory of Adalita still clung to the very walls of the Palace, then people were more prone to sympathize, than they were to point an accusatory finger at him.

And perhaps Elena too realized it, for a few seconds later, the fury slowly drained from her eyes, and her voice when next she spoke was candid and calm.

"People inspire one another," she started slowly, with a pointed tone in response to his indirect accusation that she had done nothing to inspire effort in him. "From the very beginning I have been told to expect this union to have less to do with you and me and more to do with... events that are beyond our ability to control; today, there was little I have experienced to suggest otherwise, though I had... hoped."

Alright, he was willing to admit she had a point in that perhaps his behaviour had been somewhat discouraging to an inexperienced bride, though he would still maintain that he had not been directly rejective, or cold. He had shown reluctance and apprahension, yes, but not plain rejection. If he had, his reply to her initial question about being unpleasant would have been a simple "no", and that would have been that. Instead, he had assured her she was not unpleasant, and even explained the source of his reluctance. That, to Octavien, was not rejection.

As for her hoping this union would have shown signs of being more than just a consequence of 'events that are beyond our ability to control'... Of that, he had his doubts, for just as he may not have shown any such signs, neither had she towards him. She had taken the pragmatic approach, devoid of emotion, first chance she got, and Octavien doubted very much that even with his somewhat reserved demeanor, she was too shy to at least try giving one such aforementioned sign herself.

And, she clearly was an intelligent woman, so should she not realize then that he actually had reasons to be apprahensive, and plenty of them? Even if some were far less real than the majority would ever know. It was not a long time ago that he had spent his first night in the same bed in the same room, with an entirely different woman. A woman who was now dead. Naturally he would harbor some apprahensions, as memories were destined to haunt him still. Even the workings of the human mind would explain why he might be so reluctant, as regardless of whether he was superstitious or not, there might be thoughts passing through his head, which were only natural for someone in his position; thoughts of his first wife's ghost lingering in the room, thoughts of him maybe being cursed, as tragedy had followed so soon in the wake of his last wedding night. One did not have to be a naive believer in fairytales and the supernatural, for such thoughts to impose themselves on one's peace of mind. So then, could she really blame him for not taking the initiative?
You would think not.

So considering all this, the fact that she had shown no emotion, neither towards him nor towards the deed they were expected to perform, would suggest she simply did not care. To her, it was a business arrangement, and that was it. No matter the way she tried to dress her words.

"I also fear you misunderstood my admittedly ill-formulated comment", she continued, and even though Octavien had his doubts regarding the level of truth in her previous words, the fact that she was adopting a more humble mien, did somewhat soothe the acidic sting of his dark musings. "I know neither of us finds the situation we have been given an ideal one, but it was given nonetheless. What I meant was that we now have an opportunity: we can allow it to become extremely unpleasant, or we can try and make the best of what we do have."

There she paused, as though to let her words sink in, and suggest that what she had spoken of had involved not just their immediate future, but their future in the long-run as well. Something he had already gathered, but neglected to address in favor of the matter at hand, towards which her attitude had been what had riled him.

"You mentioned earlier that we do not know eachother", she then continued once more, her tone still far more soft and thus to Octavien's ears agreeable than before. "That is true, and we never will, if we do not... try."

Staying silent for a few seconds, partly as a way of regaining control of his rebellious temper, and partly as a way of granting Elena a sign of acknowledgement for her words, Octavien merely looked at her steadily, studying her eyes and features as though determining the sincerity behind those words. Even though her tone had changed, he still was not convinced.

"And in what way is it that you intend to know me, then?" he finally said, managing to wipe the edge from his voice as well. "As an actual husband, or as a business partner who just happens to share your bed?"

He darned near added 'A necessary evil, perhaps?', but managed to bite his tongue, as it would have been his still simmering temper talking, rather than his common sense. Elena did have a point in not needing to make matters unnecessarily difficult, and she had clearly taken to trying to compromise, and doing so in a fairly friendly manner. It was only fair that he did too. And therefore, he gave a small sigh, and the piercing look in his eyes softened, as he decided it was his turn to make an effort to try and steer this away from disaster and rejection once more.

"I will admit I myself may not have encouraged... efforts to be made, but given the conversation we had the other day, I was under the impression that you would understand why."



(((ooc: The 'perverse preference in gender' thing does in no way mean I have anything against homosexuals (as I believe my history of past characters will prove. ;) ), but those were the standars of the era, and so... yeah...
And... Sorry about the length... Like you said Ghani, there was so much I wanted to include.)))

[Ghanima Atreides]

It is now Morning for our courtiers!


((ooc: There will be no announcements because frankly I don't have anything to announce :blink:

I do have two OOC announcements to make though:

-Padme Castilla (played by ElektraNatchios) has been removed for inactivity. Elektra, you're welcome to re-apply at any time but if you do, please try to stay a little bit active

-The suites map has finally been updated. Sorry for the delay, I kept forgetting



This reminds me of something I've been wanting to bring to everyone's attention though. I'm sure you've all noticed that the RP has slowly crawled to a near-standstill apart from a few characters, and I am genuinely concerned, guys. I realize that simply going about the palace corridors waiting to bump into someone and then chat for a bit can't remain very interesting forever. Plots, having something designed and agreed upon with others for your character to do can be so much more rewarding and fun, so I am taking the opportunity to encourage everyone to do so: to think up ways of getting your characters a little more involved, plot-wise, this is supposed to be a scandalous court after all! :D There are a few of us around, if someone has an idea that might involve another character, and the other person is willing, PM discussions are a great way to think up new RP ideas (and of course they don't have to be scandalous, it was just an example).

This is a suggestion, and Im open to everyone's suggestions as well (PM me), I know that if we try we can get the place hopping :D))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Yeah, I'd be more than willing to have my characters be involved in more plots. Come one guys, there is so much to do with the stuff going on in this RP. :)

Ghani - *lmao* ME's right next to César and Jo now?? Oh man! Jo's gonna love that, isn't she?)))



When as the dark cobalt blue of the horizon slowly began to brighten, in the last hour of night before dawn would spill it's spectrum of colors onto the sky, yet another night of little to no sleep had been added to the already weary mind of the young Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan. After leaving the wedding the previous afternoon, scaring one of the two girls he adored in the process, he had wandered aimlessly for an hour or so, until he was sure most of the wedding participants, Joséphine included, would be in the Grand Dining Room for the reception banquet, leaving the court and stable yard close to deserted, not counting the stable boys and other servants who might be milling about out there. By then he had decided to once again flee the Palace, and any chance of running in to... well, anyone really. He still was not ready for another round with Joséphine, and Octavien he couldn't stand the sight of. Comtesse Devine, well, she had appeared to be offering Joséphine a shoulder to lean on, despite César doubting she had any idea of what was going on, and so he really wasn't interested in exchanging forced pleasantries with the woman. The only one to bring out any kind of amiable feelings at this point, was Marie-Elisabeth. But they were amiable feelings mixed with confusion and apprahension, for quite frankly, César did not know how to handle possibly coming face to face with her at this point. Guilt had started riding him, harder by the minute, since Joséphine had swiped his feet from under him, and at the same time, he could not deny that the thought of Marie-Elisabeth still stirred feelings of desire within him. So then, coming face to face with the beautiful blonde could turn out quite... awkward, to say the least.

It had all been better, and simpler, to just stay away altogether, and try to make some sense of the jumble of thoughts currently occupying every inch of his mind.

For the second night in a row, the tavern had become his refuge, in search of something of which he was no longer sure. Escape, or clarity? Somehow, it seemed he was eagerly grasping for both. Which would probably explain why he was failing miserably at seizing either, since one simply can not reach for two things so very far apart, and expect to actually get a hold of them. And it really didn't help matters that once again he tried to drown his sorrows with wine. For some reason, even though he was aware that getting drunk when in a bad mood would often only make things worse, he still tried. It seemed to be one of those wisdoms learned so very many times, yet never learned properly.
Though this time he'd had enough sense to quit while he could still walk fairly straight, and instead of returning to the horse for yet another few hours in the saddle that would only leave him sore in the morning, he'd paid for a room, and toppled into bed.

There he had spent a few hours tossing and turning, drifting in and out of something that could never really be considered sleep, but rather a slumber that left his limbs heavy, and his mind foggy, but spinning. To get any real rest, seemed like a lost cause. And so, after having spent what felt like hours on his side, staring at the window in the cramped and stuffy room, when the nightsky began turning from black to deep blue, he suddenly decided that enough was enough. He couldn't take it anymore. It was time to take the bull by the horns, or else he'd soon drive himself mad with guilt and, most of all, anxiety. There were so many thing he didn't know, so many questions that had been raised in those few seconds of seeing Joséphine and Octavien kiss, and they were all eating away at his sanity. No matter how painful the answers might be, he had to know.

Not having bothered to undress except for taking off his coat before tumbling into bed, it took him no more than a minute to get out of bed and leave the room, passing through the now almost eerily quiet tavern. Once outside, he paused for a few moments, closing his eyes and drawing a few quick, deep breaths as a way of making the last few remnants of the clouds in his mind evaporate, as well as try to draw some strength from within. Neither one fully succeeded. Thoughts were still crowding inside the walls of his skull, making it nearly impossible to seperate them and review them one by one, and his heart was still trembling with fear of what answers he might recieve, urging him every step of the way back to the Palace to simply turn around, and head in the opposite direction. And had it been the only feeling in his heart, he probably would have.
But it was not. There was also anger and hurt, both driving him on forward, towards a confrontation for which he might not be ready, but badly needed.

And, there was love. He loved Joséphine dearly, and if anything, the past two days had made him realize just how much. If there was competition, he would not give up without a fight. No matter who, or what for that matter, the competition was. Even if it had been the King himself, César would not have backed away.

Thus, when he stepped through the Palace doors, the sun just peaking over the horizon behind him, there was a determination in his stride that guided him straight to the door of the de la Valliére suite, without him really registering anything that was going on around him. Not that there was much, except for the odd servant scurrying about in preparation for another busy day.
But, it was an assertive stride that came to a near screeching halt, when the door swung open and his eyes landed on Joséphine's sleeping form, alone and seemingly tiny in the giant bed. He didn't know why, but it felt as though suddenly all the determination drained from him, and he all but turned and left. Mental images flooded his mind, of her in another bed, and not so alone. Octavien's bed, with his arms wrapped around her slender frame, much like César used to wrap his arms around her, even in his sleep.
It was a visual that was too hard to stomach.

And yet he knew he couldn't turn back now. He just couldn't, because the chances were if he turn back now, he might not ever muster enough strength and courage to ever deal with it, and if left to fester, there was no telling what it would do to him, and to Joséphine.

Therefore, he finally managed to will himself into motion again, though the determination remained missing in action. Instead, there was a caution to his movements while he quietly closed the door behind him, and walked over to the comfortable chair standing a few feet away from the bed. Lowering himself into it, with his eyes locked on the peaceful expression on Joséphine's face, almost as though he was mesmerized by it, he prepared for hours of waiting for her to wake up.

[Ghanima Atreides]

Bella and Joséphine - the previous night (Grand Dining room) - Joséphine and César, morning, their suite


The previous evening...

Partly due to the company she kept, partly thanks to the many distractions present at a wedding banquet, by the time the magnificent hall began to empty, Joséphine was feeling a tinge less miserable than before. After mulling over the same baleful thoughts for countless hours with nothing else to preoccupy her, even a temporary release was a blessing. To help things along nicely, the conversation with Bella had left the beaten path of idle chatter to venture into the territory to what was a budding philosophical discussion: most would have considered it a far too heavy topic for such an event, but Joséphine didn't mind it a single bit: it wasn't often that she encountered a like-minded woman like the Comtesse.

“But, just as how there are several degrees of freedom, there are several forms of freedom, Marquise,” Bella continued “Most importantly, freedom of mind, something that never really can be tied down.”

Sipping the last contents of a glass of freshly-squeezed apple juice – she hadn't try stomaching alcohol – Joséphine nodded slowly in agreement before gracefully setting the empty glass down.

“The most important form of freedom of all is the one that can never be taken away”, she agreed. Sound had decreased in volume quite considerably around them, as more and more courtiers finished their food and conversations and retreated for the evening. Realizing that Adèle and Angélique teetered on their seats, having stayed up far later than they were used to, Joséphine knew she must soon follow, even though the prospect of returning to an empty suite was not attractive.

“Comtesse, it's been a true pleasure,” Joséphine began, “but I fear these two young ladies need their rest, and, truthfully, their mother could use some as well. I hope we meet again, and good night to you.”

Girls delivered to the capable hands of their nanny and swiftly to bed, Joséphine once again was faced with the prospect of spending a night alone, not knowing where César was or when they would willingly share a room again. Despite desperate efforts at maintaining the slightly better mood she was in, any joy drained away in the silence, and renewed anxiety crowded Joséphine's mind which remained stubbornly active and free of sleep. Two nights in a row he had spent only god-knew where, yet that did not prevent him from attending the wedding in proper attire, which meant he had returned to the Palace at one time or another. Joséphine chastised herself for not inquiring with Bess about him, for the only other possibility currently taking shape in her mind instantly paralysed her insides: that instead of returning to their suite, César had taken refuge into that of Marie-Elisabeth de Valois whom, she had been informed, now resided on the other side of the wall. Anxiety-driven impressions of suspect noises reaching through the stone barrier haunted Joséphine's imagination into the late hours of night when, finally, she felt asleep.


The following morning...


Joséphine had no idea how late it was when she drifted back into consciousness, rubbing her eyes sleepily and stretching beneath the covers. Several seconds elapsed before the young Marquise discovered that she wasn't alone in her suite, furthermore that seated in a chair not far from her bed was none other than César. Waking up to realize someone had been observing her without her knowledge, even if that someone happened to be her husband – or perhaps even especially because it happened to be him, in the current circumstances – unequivocally startled Joséphine. Inhaling sharply, she drew herself in a half-sitting position, instinctively gathering the covers protectively to her chest. Then, as she became accustomed to the fact that he was there and, as far as she could asses, dishevelled but calm – she lowered them in her lap. The expression of surprise however lingered on her pallid features, very aware of the loud throbbing in her temples, in anticipation of the confrontation that loomed on the horizon. She could only hope that he was willing to listen to what she had to say, for it was so much.

“César...” Joséphine began hesitatingly, observing him apprehensively: he looked positively exhausted and the eerie silence he maintained, so unlike the César she was used to, sent a cold shiver down her spine. “How long have you been there?”

And then, almost immediately:

“Are you all right?”

A silly, even shallow question, perhaps, considering both of them were anything but all right, but nonetheless the first thing that blazed through Joséphine's mind at the sight of her husband whose whereabouts for almost two days remained largely a mystery to her: she wanted to know if he was well, one of the many anxieties that had plagued her all that time, knowing full well that extreme anger and distress clouded a man's reason, driving him to ill-advised, even dangerous acts...and César had a temper.

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: Apologizes for being spambot but can i jsut say ME new suite= most awkward place ever. Hands down. And I totally agree, we've gotta stir some stuff up here guys!!!

Atropa: Yes, yes indeed it'll be very interesting ;) I forsee much amusement coming from this in the future.

Oh and ASYLUM BABIEZ FINALLY WOOOOT)))

[AtropaMandragora]

(((ooc: Come on people, WAKE UP! *shakes fellow RPers* Nothing will happen if you don't make it happen! :D )))



Much like Joséphine didn't know how long she had been asleep for, César didn't know for how long he had been sitting there watching her. With thoughts and feelings swirling round and round in body and mind, the concept of time had been lost to him, and even the slowly moving streak of light cast upon the carpet through a narrow slit in the curtains had ceased being any kind of indicator that the minutes, maybe hours had been ticking by. His eyes had remained fixed on Joséphine, though her face had drifted in and out of focus, as sometimes what he saw, was not in the room itself, but in his mind. Memories and mental images conjured by the anger, the hurt, but most of all the anxiety and guilt: they were all still claiming every inch of his being, it seemed. Ruling supreme.

Every time Joséphine stirred however, no matter how small her movements were, his gaze would immediately re-focus, anticipating the moment those warm brown eyes of hers would flutter open, and provide husband and wife with the chance of maybe, hopefully, sort out this whole... mess, though the word hardly seemed sufficient. Several times it happened, before, at last, she truly did awake, leisurely stretching her limbs underneath the warm, comfortable covers, and rubbing her eyes into giving a clear vision. Once clear enough, during the usual sweep across the room that the eyes usually do when one has just woken up, they fell on the chair nearby the bed, or rather the person in it. Hardly surprising, Joséphine had apparently not expected to find César there, and the discovery was one that seemed to startle her at first, as she sat up and pulled the covers to her chest, as though trying to instinctively cover herself up. But no matter how understandable, it still caused a tiny, dissatisfied quiver in the corners of César's mouth. Signs of fear at the sight of him was hardly what he had wished to see spilling across Joséphine's lovely features. He had wished for something rather more encouraging, but for that, he would be made to wait.

"César...", his young wife started slowly, apprahension filling her voice in a manner similar to the way it did her eyes. "How long have you been there?"

'How long?' Now wasn't that the question they both yearned to have answered. How long had he been sitting there? How long had she known about his affairs, and said nothing? How long had her affair with Octavien lasted?

Though he didn't get a chance to reply, nor did he even try, before Joséphine continued, finally granting him that tiny shred of encouragement he needed in order to know that the decision he had made over the past two days, would hopefully not be one made too late, a lost cause;

"Are you all right?"

This time, there was concern in her voice. While apprahension still lingered, the feeling ruling her tone was that of worry, of true emotion and not of anger. Painful though it had been, perhaps staying away this long had been the right choice after all, so that they could both calm down. At least a little bit, even though the feelings that had cast their shadow over their last two encounters were still stirring beneath the surface.

Neither this question, despite holding something he had so longed for, recieved an answer however, as he had words of his own yearning to be spoken. His head over the past two days had been filled to the brim with one big tangle of thoughts and emotions, but even in all that confusion, there was one feeling, one phrase that had permeated them all, and now pushed past his lips. Softly, tiredly, dejectedly, but honestly.

"I love you", came his weary voice out of the dimness still looming in the room. "I need you to know that."



(((ooc: Couldn't find what colors her eyes are, and it was really hard to tell from her picture, so... I went with brown, but please correct me if they're not.)))

[Slytherin-Girl]

(((OOC: I'm sorry, I've been neglectful. The Asylum babies are taking all my attention! That among other things IRL :P

I'm just kind of having trouble thinking of something for her that's not "wakes up and wanders halls" LOL I'm waiting on my muse to give me something and he is NOT being very co-operative *glares at him*)))