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|18th May 2008, 03:08 PM||#226|
Join Date: Jan 1970
((Yes I have, but after the four days I shall disable them again, I don't really want to clutter the site with useless PMs saved for an inactive account.
And that's not a problem I shall hold on for as long as possible here,and I know this is a terrible thing to say, but I actually thought that was the problem... but I don't wannna drag it back up either.
But live long and fly high Atropa. Your a wonderful Roleplayer even if we don't see eye to eye.))
|18th May 2008, 04:28 PM||#227|
((ooc: I hope this works Atropa, if not let me know.
Fayre - best of luck to you.
Everyone - although we're still waiting for Seiza and the others to contribute to this issue, I guess if they don't soon someone will have to call Afternoon. When would it best suit you guys?))
Octavien and Joséphine - Redefining Awkward (The Palace Gardens, in a cherry tree)
Courtly attire made tree climbing particularly uncomfortable indeed, Joséphine thought idly to herself as she dangled in the wind; the obligatory corset which encased her waist was slowly and painfully digging into her flesh, and the gown's hems and multiple undergarments hindered her every move. From her tall perch, the Marquise had a fairly panoramic view of the Palace gardens, something she might have even enjoyed, in different circumstances: secluded among the branches of a cherry tree, munching down on the ripe fruit and watching courtiers go by, completely oblivious. As her present situation did not even come close to that scenario, Joséphine was growing more and more miserable with each passing second, the fact that Octavien had yet to spot her only adding to her discomfort. If he failed to do so and left, the entire thing would have been for nothing. She let out another cry for help just for good measure and waited.
In the meantime, the Marquise's increasingly genuine distress attracted the attention of several women and their male companions who had been near enough to hear her call for help. They rushed to the base of the tree, craning their powdered necks for a better look. While the women simply gaped and whispered among themselves, one of the men began muttering something about summoning a servant with a ladder. In turn, their babble brought more and more onlookers to this oddest of spectacles. Someone asked Joséphine if she was hurt and if she could move, to which the Marquise shook her head, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks; thankfully she could attribute it to fear and effort, thus concealing her embarrassment. Standing in a semicircle around the tree, the gathered courtiers had launched an argument concerning be the best way to help her down, voices rising in a cacophony of unintelligible comments.
One word was carried above it however, and Joséphine recognized her own name being called; moments later she was able to see Octavien arrive, his frock coat hanging by just one sleeve. It appeared César had anticipated his friend's reaction well, the Marquise mused with relief, for it meant the entire debacle would soon be over. From the corner of her eye, she watched Octavien's quick ascent along the tree trunk – beneath them, more and more spectators were being drawn to the scene. Naturally, the Prince's involvement was a reason for increased interest, and the crowd responded accordingly: by whispering vicariously, staring and pointing fingers.
"Jo", Octavien called out to her from the branch just above hers "Give me your hand. Just reach back, and I've got you. Okay?"
Nodding energetically, Joséphine gingerly crawled her way back along the branch, experiencing a stomach turning sensation of instability: going forward had been fairly easy; the return proved somewhat more problematic. Thinking how absolutely ironic it would have been if she were to fall for real, the Marquise extended her left arm in Octavien's direction, the right one firmly gripping the branch. Following a few seconds' blind search, their fingers touched, but only their tips; propelling her body backwards, Joséphine's other hand left the branch in one quick motion, allowing her free hand to find safety in Octavien's grip. With his help, she carefully shifted into a sitting position, slowly turned around to face him and finally placed both hands in his.
They both stared at eachother in disbelief, ignoring the relieved sighs coming from the courtiers; Joséphine's lush curls had become disentangled, falling haphazardly around her oval face, flushed a vivid red; several light scratches could be seen along her bare forearms, and her gown sported a few tears. For extra stability, the Marquise drew herself close to Octavien's body, panting slightly and glancing apologetically up at him:
“Octavien...” Joséphine breathed, “I am so sorry! My hat...” she motioned towards the end of the branch “...was caught in the wind, but I did not wish to disturb anyone else, and decided to retrieve it myself...I know, it was a foolish thing to do. Thank you...thank you for helping me.”
Seeing the worried look in Octavien's eyes, Joséphine did experience a throb of searing guilt at having purposely deceived him, even though their plan had come through beautifully in the end. Still, the Prince was obviously not aware or simply did not care about the fact that a dozen pairs of eyes were currently gazing up at him in awe and appreciation: he was upset, plain and simple, disquiet etched in every line of his handsome features. For a brief instant, Joséphine found herself admiring them: there was something to be said about those expressive, blue eyes... She felt very warm, a sensation that seemed to be focused in her hands which were still tightly clasped in Octavien's own, and spreading through her arms into the rest of her. Her cheeks became, if possible, even redder.
“We should....get down from here” she whispered very quietly.
If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
|18th May 2008, 07:24 PM||Roseline ;; [Palace Gardens] #228|
Join Date: Jan 1970
((ooc;; No problem Atropa - thanks for letting me knowI can so see them up in that tree - and don't worry, your descriptive skills are amazing I got it perfectly :P
Oh and half-decent post today!))
Roseline woke late. She had fallen out of the early rising routine she needed in Court because of the late rises in the country. She had planned on an early night as she was already tired from travelling but Louisa had seen that out of the window, and the two women spent most the night talking of all that Roseline had missed during her time away from Court, which the most obvious of which was the Queens departure from the Palace. Roseline had arrive back too late to share the shock of the news with any of the courtiers but she could share it with Louisa and for that reason Roseline doted on the young woman. The pair had become good friends, which Roseline could only see as a bonus – the two constantly talked over the day’s events and often spent evenings together where Louisa would tell Roseline of all the gossip going on in the Court, which of course Roseline often joined in on – what woman wouldn’t?
A small smile danced over Roseline’s pale features at the thought, and forced herself into a sitting position. A small shaft of light spilling into the room through a gap in the curtains reminded Roseline of her already late rising and she reluctantly released herself from the warm cocoon that was her bed. She crossed to the curtained windows almost immediately after forcing herself up and opened the heavy curtains wide, filling the room with light. The day was a glorious spring day and already the sun was shining. It was a welcome change from the heavy rain that Roseline had arrived in yesterday, and after only mere moments of gazing longingly at the Palace grounds, Louisa bustled in, a warm smile lighting up her face.
“Bon Matin, Baroness.” She said warmly, “It is good to have you back.” Roseline turned to face the young woman, her own features mirroring the happy expression on her maid’s.
“It is good to be back, Louisa – I am sorry I have risen so late.” Roseline said, her thoughts turning on the strange change of weather but determined to enjoy it while it was here.
“It is no problem Madame.” She said, and paused carefully, allowing Roseline a moment to give her a gentle, querying look, “You will still be in your mourning dress, Madame?” Roseline nodded, the small smile that was gracing her lips disappearing as Louisa bowed out of the room. Of course, Roseline’s mood was far too good for her to seem in mourning, but her family at home treated her almost the same as many of the courtiers because of her beginnings, and so she had never felt as close to them as she could have. It was for that reason only that she couldn’t feel too bereaved, and had come back to Court so soon after the funeral. She had surprised herself in going back at all – which of course could be seen as the most insensitive thing possible to think at all but it demonstrated how much she felt apart from them.
The only real reason she returned was to see her best childhood friend, Kaitlin, who had now settled down with a husband and had two gorgeous boys. They had spent the days following the funeral catching up on life, and Roseline was badgered by her only remaining sister to do the same as Kaitlin and settle down. Roseline though felt no need to tie herself down – she wasn’t born inside the ‘rules’ of society and so felt no need to follow the customary early marriage yet.
Louisa’s return into the room cut short Roseline’s rambling thoughts though and soon after Roseline was dressed in a simple yet elegant black dress and her hair put up in a simple up-do. She quickly exited her room and began walking down towards the Palace Gardens. Unbelievably, she had forgotten completely about her breakfast with Baroness Venn, but now it was much too late, and she would have to hope to see the older woman around the Palace to apologise.
Finally escaping out into the cool air and warm sun, Roseline allowed a quick smile to flicker over her features before beginning a slow saunter across the gorgeous grounds.
((ooc;; Completely approachable guys Anywhere in the gardens ..
Sorry its so crappy, spending the day reading through History books all day leaves nothing in my brain :P))
|19th May 2008, 01:47 AM||Marie-Elisabeth et Cesar: Her rooms #229|
Marie-Elisabeth was, for more than one reason, seriously beginning to regret what she had worn this morning. The first being it no longer suited her mood at all, being far to plain and boring. The depressing mood she had been in had decidedly vanished and she had already made herself a mental note to change and re do her hair before leaving her suite. The second being that, with such a high and lacy collar, along with such long sleeves, it made it difficult to see her jewelry. Particularly the beautiful new piece she had just received. Thirdly, the fur-trimmed dress was starting to get uncomfortably warm, due in no small part to the proximity of the man sitting next to her.
She was exceedingly tempted to reach up and start fiddling with her necklace, which if course she tended to do when she needed to think, but couldn’t as that would mean removing her hand from its’ current position. And she really didn’t want to do so.
When Marie-Elisabeth had gotten up that morning, she had no idea that this was how her morning was going to end up. When she had gotten the note from César that morning, she had assumed that their amusing little game was going to be over. But now she could clearly see that wouldn’t be the case. No the game was still going on and becoming more and more serious every moment. It was a continuous test of her ability to keep her reactions under control, which was becoming increasingly difficult with César’s proximity to her and his hand covering hers. And she wasn’t even going to bother trying to control the direction her mind was going in. That was an exercise in futility if she ever saw one.
"I noticed your necklace", she heard César say and her head snapped back to the situation at hand "And I couldn't help but feel that such a beautiful thing deserves a match. A partner, if you will, to further bring out it's beauty."“I can certainly see that you did” she replied, looking down at her hand“ It’s very beautiful”. She then looked back up, the smirk still on her face.
“You know something else?” she said, full well knowing what she was about to say, “We still haven’t finished that discussion we were having the other day. Remember the one about horseback riding? You did mention that in your note after all. I seem to recall someone offering to help me practise”.
(((OOC: Sorry that took so long, got kinda stuck for a while. *continues giggling about Jo and the prince in a tree*)))
|19th May 2008, 11:39 AM||Bella - Devine Suite // Bella and Rosaline - Palace Gardens #230|
(((OOC: Prince and Marquise in a tree!
Sorry about the delay! )))
Thankfully, Bella was not one of those people who needed extensive work to look presentable in the mornings. In fact, Bella, within minutes of just having woken up, usually looked far more than presentable. She was thankful for that indeed as she overslept following the late night dinner in Octavien’s suite. As privileged as she felt for that experience, Bella did not want to miss the morning announcements, especially when it included something important for her.
Therefore, it made sense when she rushed her maid Grace during her morning duties of having her dressed and styled. Although, whether it made sense to Grace was a different story. She’d requested her maroon gown with a small pearl necklace and claimed she’d do her hair herself, leaving Grace wondering whether it was her ability that was in question.
“My lady,” she’d stuttered hesitantly. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
“I’ll be fine, it’s alright,” Bella had waved her off with a laugh. “Thank you.”
Of course Bella made it in time; she would not have missed the morning announcement for the entire world. Being made a Comtesse through her own doing, that was Bella’s first tangible achievement and she wanted to relish every moment of it. It was to be a permanent feature, her new title, but Bella wanted to savour the moment that it all changed. She was entitled to that much.
Following that burst of excitement, she found herself in need of some relaxation. She thought back to the events of the previous night and decided she would definitely look forward to the company of Octavien, Joséphine and César again; Octavien, in particular. In return for his gracious act of exposing her to what she had so sorely missed, Bella resolved to return the favour somehow. Right now, however, she wished to simply take time off.
Therefore, armed with her favourite book of late, she’d stalked the gorgeous palace gardens, finally coming to a rest by an isolated bench, where she could steal moments away from the commotion that happened to be arising further ahead to lose herself in fiction. However, the morning air and the beauty of the gardens proved too distracting and Bella found her eyes wandering again.
Coursing the green lands, she saw another figure such as herself, apparently not part of the circus that was erupting nearby. A young blonde woman, noble, but someone she had met as yet. Or heard of, in fact. Bella waited until the other woman’s gaze fell upon her and released a slight, if not beckoning wave of hand with a welcoming smile to match.
"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
|19th May 2008, 09:34 PM||Octavien and Joséphine, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I.... Okay, so not quite. #231|
Had the situation unfolding infront of the eyes of about a dozen courtiers in the budding Palace Gardens not been so profoundly laced with a sense of imminent danger, it would have probably appeared quite comical. A beautiful young Marquise, a fair creature of purple and white, sprawled on a thick branch of a cherry tree, with the dark rugged bark as a cruel contrast to her soft and now scratched lily white skin. And the very Prince of the kingdom, a nobleman supposed to turn his nose up at the mere thought of dirtying himself or acquiring even the tiniest blemish to his skin through actual effort, scaling the tree to come to her rescue like some knight in shining armor right out of a fairytale.
It seemed a scenario so unbelievable it could not have sprung even from the minds of Molière or Desmarets themselves, and would surely be the cause of some rather loud and incessant buzzing as well as quite a few laughs in the court for some time to come. But at the moment, there was not one snicker or giggle to break the spell of astonishment and breathless agitation amongst the courtiers watching the scene unfold from the ground below. Only whispers and a gasp here and there as Joséphine slowly started her risky venture back towards the trunk, all the while with Octavien's hand hovering over her form, ready to grab onto whatever he could grasp, should she wobble or loose her own grip, and start to fall. Consequently, when their hands finally clasped one another, there came a loud and joint sigh of relief from the onlookers.
One which, despite it's indiscreet volume, was heard neither by Octavien or Joséphine, as they both sat staring at eachother's faces, Joséphine's flushing red with effort and embarrassment, and Octavien's marred by genuine concern; feelings that then slowly started to dissipate, as another sensation began to intrude, slowly sneaking into the air between them, and staining it with something they had both sworn to forget. For a moment, Octavien found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Joséphine's pale features, and the way loose curls were framing her face, adding to her beauty an air of something wild, and untamed, and suddenly, he became painfully aware of how firmly clasped their hands were, her skin burning red hot against his.
"Octavien...", she said as she pressed even closer to him for extra safety, her voice somewhat ragged in the immediate aftermath of her perilous stunt. "I am so sorry! My hat... was caught in the wind, but I did not wish to disturb anyone else, and decided to retrieve it myself... I know, it was a foolish thing to do. Thank you... thank you for helping me."
While she spoke, she motioned towards a cluster of twigs at the end of the branch, where her hat remained stuck, and Octavien managed to tear his eyes away from her long enough to glance in it's direction, actually noticing it for the first time. Until now, he had been so concerned with her well-being, that there had been no room in his mind for questions of why she was even where she was in the first place.
Though his gaze soon returned to her, and as their eyes locked, he realized that she was now looking at him much in the same way as he felt he had been looking at her, and still was; with breathless tension, and a new wave of red crashing over her cheeks as confirmation that the feeling stirring within him was a mutual one.
It lasted only for a few seconds, but when Joséphine finally opened her mouth to speak, it felt as though an eternity had passed.
"We should... get down from here."
It was a mere whisper, little more than an audible breath, but it managed to rouse Octavien from his slight trance, and after blinking a few times to clear his mind of her bedazing lure, he turned his head to look at the trunk, and try to figure out the best way to put them firmly and, above all, safely back on the ground. From where they were sitting, there was another lower and thicker branch protruding in a slightly different direction, but with a gap narrow enough from where they were for Joséphine to be able to fairly easily lower herself onto it's base, and then slide down the last few feet before he could grab her by the waist, and lower her the rest of the way himself.
Carefully freeing one hand, though not without placing hers firmly against the branch he was sitting on, so that she would still have something to hold on to, he began to point and explain their route down, and once Joséphine nodded in understanding and agreement, he gently freed his other hand, to start his own descent. In clothes that allowed him much more freedom of movement than hers, and, again, being male, it took him only seconds to move himself onto the bottom branch, and then lower himself from there, ending up swinging himself from it and landing on the ground with catlike grace. From there, he motioned for Joséphine to start her own way down, all the while ready to catch her, should she happen to slip and fall.
However, she handled herself with as much dignity she had left - which was an amount far larger than most would have in her situation - and soon enough, Octavien could reach up and grab her by the waist, and finally lower her to the ground.
But, as he did, as he felt her body slide down along his, with only the thin fabric of his shirt seperating his naked skin from her form and the touch of her hands resting gingerly on his shoulders, and then her face ending up mere inches from his own... It was as though the feeling from just a few minutes ago had only been an echo of what now returned full force to land a punch in his gut, so that for another fleeting moment, his breath caught in his throat, rendering him unable to do anything but gaze down at her face, and those rosey lips, that had once...
This time, it was not a soft whisper from those lips that pulled him out of his slight daze, but the sharp gasp from a nearby woman, and as he looked up, he found the audience of courtiers - whose presence he only noticed now - staring and pointing at his arm. Confused, he glanced down and found that, indeed, he was bleeding. It appeared that his 'heroic bravura' had caused the wound on his arm to open once again, and create the dramatic contrast only blood upon snowy white could accomplish. His concern for Joséphine and the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins for the past couple of minutes had kept him from feeling the pain, and made him forget he was even hurt in the first place. But now, following in the footsteps of the visual, came the dull, throbbing ache of an open wound, and a slight frown to steal swiftly across his features.
Yet he said nothing, but simply turned back to Joséphine.
"Are you alright?" he asked. "Would you like for me to arrange for a carriage to take you back to the Palace, or would you prefer that we walk?"
She did look rather pale to him, and knowing how easily ladies tended to faint when put through an emotional ordeal, especially one as intense as this one, he really would prefer it if she allowed him to see to it that she returned to the Palace with a minimum of effort on her part. But, he wouldn't go as far as to refuse her to walk, or even suggest that maybe it would be for the best that she didn't. Joséphine was strong and proud, and he suspected such a suggestion would only offend her.
"I'll send a servant to fetch your hat", he added, just in case she was about to insist she would not leave without it.
|19th May 2008, 11:16 PM||César & Marie-Elisabeth - la suite de Valois #232|
"I can certainly see that you did. It's very beautiful."
Whether the Comtesse was intentionally dodging his subtle insinuation, for the sake of their ever ongoing game, or if she was simply still too taken with the newly recieved jewlry on her arm to pick up on the tone in his voice, César could not tell. And it mattered little, for when she looked up from her gift to lock gazes with his again, he made sure that there was a certain twinkle in his eyes that was guaranteed to remove any and all doubt from her mind that while his first words of his last statement had been about the necklace, the 'beautiful thing' and it's 'match' of which he had spoken, had little to do with the bracelet, and far more to do with the Comtesse herself.
And, mission accomplished. The smirk that still held her inviting lips captive told him that her mind was travelling along much the same path as his own, and that not only had she registered the small challenge, but that she intended to rise to the occasion, once again.
"You know something else?" she said, sounding rather casual, and yet her voice held an to César unmistakable undertone of her usual level of mischief. "We still haven’t finished that discussion we were having the other day. Remember the one about horseback riding? You did mention that in your note after all. I seem to recall someone offering to help me practise."
The sly smile that appeared on César's lips at the sound of those words, was only just outdone by Marie-Elisabeth's own smirk. It would seem she was indeed ready to take things a little further, and even though the conversation he had referred to was not in truth the one about horseback riding, he was not about to correct her. For all he knew, it was an intentional mistake, meant to guide them onto the path she wished to go. And frankly, he had enjoyed discussing horseback riding more than he had enjoyed discussing theology.
Much, much more.
"Indeed I did", he said, while absent-mindedly (or so it would seem) allowing his fingertips to toy with hers, watching them at first, but then looking suggestively up at her from under the unruly strands of hair hanging slightly into his eyes. "Shall I take it you feel ready to get back in the saddle? Or would you prefer a slow ride along the countryside?"
An odd statement perhaps, as only one with a mind similar to César's would register the difference between the options given. But judging by how their previous conversations had played out, César didn't really doubt that his words were no mystery to Marie-Elisabeth.
(((ooc: Hope you get what he means, slytherin. But if I had him be too cryptic, PM me. )))
|20th May 2008, 06:20 AM||Marie-Elisabeth & César - Her rooms #233|
Marie-Elisabeth had proven herself to be very good with words. It had started in her childhood, she had often been able to talk her tutors into writing her lessons for her and she would trace over them later. The talent had only gotten better as she had gotten older, and tended to be particularly effective on members of the opposite sex.
But that was when she had time to consider her words. Undistracted time where there weren’t a thousand other thought milling through her head. And most of the thoughts floating around in there right now were the sort that would earn her a week’s worth of Hail Marys and Our Fathers were a priest to hear them. And quite possibly a liberal sprinkling of holy water for good measure.
She was having a very hard time coming up with a response to his question in the first place, the primary reason being that César's hand on top of hers was beginning to get more distracting than she could handle at the moment, and the way he was looking at her didn’t help matters. There was also the fact that she simply didn’t know quite how to answer it. She knew how she would have liked to answer it, but didn’t quite think she could just yet.
Marie-Elisabeth gently pulled her hand out from underneath his reaching up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. Normally she would have reached for her necklace, but as it was buried underneath her neckline she couldn’t without sticking her hand into her dress. And she wasn’t about to do that.
“I suppose” she said, trying to choose her words carefully “That I would have to say I would prefer the second of the two”. She let go of her hair and glanced briefly down at her wrist, then up at him again, before continuing. “As I did say before, while I did used to ride more often and would love to do so again, I’m ashamed to admit I’m a bit apprehensive about “getting back in the saddle” as you put it.”
She paused and looked down at her wrist again, keeping her gaze there as she finished speaking. “It’s just been so long that while I certainly remember how to do so I’m, again as I said the other day, somewhat out of practice”.
(((OOC: That made more sense in my head, I swear. If it's too confusing or anything, like you said last time Atropa, let me know!
I swear I didn’t imagine her doing air quotes when she said “get back in the saddle”. Nope, not at all…..*whistles innocently*And I mean (by the prayers thing) like if a priest were to hear it in a confession. I went to catholic school for 14 years, I may as well use all the knowledge: P
On a more relevant note, I’m going to be away from Friday to late on Sunday, as I’m going to be at an Anime Convention. Where I get to run around dressed like Rikku all day! *fangirly SQUEEEEEEEE*
Just wanted to give you guys a heads up so you don’t think I’m ignoring anyone or being inactive. :howdy: )))
|20th May 2008, 01:01 PM||#234|
((ooc: This is just an -introduction- Elena will be arriving properly at noon.
*snickers at all the "subtle" horse riding comments* ))
Elena Sánchez - on route to the Palace of Light and Air
The morning sun crept towards zenith, showering the entire countryside in sheer brilliance beneath a coudless sky. All around the winding road leading to the Palace of Light and Air, vegetation stirred to live once again, sprinkling the vast plains and hillsides with tiny specks of green. The air, too, was infused by a multitude of fresh scents which hailed warmer days to come, flowers weighing down on branches along the paths.
A diffuse shape was snaking its way along the road, barely visible on horizon's edge, but growing in both size and sound. Before long, any passer-by would have been able to distinguish an approaching coach, the first in a convoy of six, a richly embossed ebony and gold vehicle pulled along by two magnificent, black horses, adornments and wheels glittering like gold whenever sunlight touched them.
Seated in the plush comfort of this leading coach was Elena Sánchez , daughter of illustrious Duque Carlos de Suárez y Torre, on route to the French Royal court – behind her, five carriages laden with luggage and servants followed. Elena paid no attention to the pleasant scenery passing her by; her gaze was pointed downwards, at the several sheets of paper covered in calligraphy her fingers fiddled with.
She knew their contents by heart, having read and re-read them numerous times before her departure from Spain; they were letters, the correspondence between her father and King Edouard Rotherham of France, and each of them interested her greatly.
From these pages, Elena had first learned of the status of France's royal family, as King Edouard communicated it to her father: his daughter's marriage to one Octavien Lahance, the Princess' subsequent illness and inevitable death, followed briefly by concerns regarding the widowed Prince and a need for him to re-marry as soon as possible. Even by the standards of nobility, the urgency to find Lahance a new wife seemed great, Elena's cunning mind already hunting for hints that might point at the true reasons for all this haste. There were always reasons within reasons, disguised as something else, and despite the letters' ...lacklustre nature, the conclusion which she had been able to draw was that the French royals seemed very eager to ensure their newly-made Prince did not have a chance to re-evaluate his loyalties. Now that, was interesting indeed.
Elena recalled, not without a trace of a smirk, Duque Carlos' reaction when she had bid him to propose a marriage between herself and Octavien Lahance to his friend the King. Having seen her dodge marriage proposals for some ten years, he held little hope that his daughter would ever be willing to marry, and had resigned himself to the idea that he was destined to die without the certainty that his querida Elena had a certain future. And yet, he had strong objections to her marrying a foreigner, and a young upstart made noble at that; the man had as large an ego as the next high ranking noble, and in his view nothing was too good for his only daughter – her leaving their ancestral home and homeland to be joined to a Prince with a rather obscure background, lacking the ancient nobility their family boasted, seemed a poor, if not insulting, choice.
It was, however, a perfect choice in Elena's view, a golden opportunity -what good would all of her family's illustrious past do her once the leeches settled in to bleed it dry? Ancestry or not, Lahance was Prince with all the trappings that came with the title, and by the looks of it, held on a tight enough leash by his family that meant they either had leverage over him or he acted out of honour and loyalty; possibly a bit of both. Elena had learned that the man was young, five years younger than herself, but she was not ready to brand him as the naïve, malleable type just yet. Underestimation had been the pitfall of many of her own past enemies, and she was not about to borrow their mistake. She did rather hope her future husband was indeed easily manipulated, preferably dull-witted, the kind of man that could be stringed along and would not hinder her purposes, but ideal situations were so rare...
After some persuasion from his daughter's part, Duque Carlos agreed to propose marriage between Elena and Octavien, possibly even convinced once Elena was done enumerating all the benefits of such an union, in that sensible, compelling way she knew he could not resist – female whining had a lesser effect on the duke, but logic convinced him easily: she was going to live at the court of his trusted friend, she had told him, and despite his ancestry, Octavien Lahance was a Prince in his own right – while adding a few examples of other noted Spanish nobles who had only recently risen to power- all in all, the marriage would ensure she and her heirs had their future assured: they could hardly hope for a more favourable, or timely match. That final argument had been the catalyst: Duque Carlos shared Elena's disdain for their many relatives, each of them circling them like vultures around a dying creature, readying themselves for the plunge. He knew his days were counted: his health was declining rapidly, and his old battle wounds pained him greatly; despite his doctors' best efforts, he would not survive more than a couple of years. Since he had no direct male heirs, that left the matter of the Sánchez lands, estates and fortune out in the open, a bountiful treasure just ready for the picking.
“Usurpadores...” Elena hissed under her breath, the bile of hatred rising in her throat at the thought. The only reason it was even a problem, why those jackals even had a claim over her fortune was because their reproductive organs happened to dangle between their legs. She had kept them at bay so long through sheer determination, unafraid to use whatever means necessary to do so, but that solution was not complete: the day her father was lowered into the ground, her hold on all their possessions would be transferred into the hands of whoever had managed to elbow his way up and make a claim on it. Elena's skin crawled whenever she envisioned her fate in that situation: being married off to whomever the new Duque de Suárez y Torre wished, or, the greatest disaster of them all, being thrown behind the gates of a convent.
This was why an advantageous marriage, a marriage on her terms, was imperative in Elena's mind. Princess Elena did not have a bad sound to it at all, she mused, the corners of her lips pushing upwards in a satisfied smile.
If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
|20th May 2008, 02:29 PM||#235|
(((ooc: *lol* Elena's gonna be a handful, and then some!)))
To say that César was surprised by Marie-Elisabeth's answer to his subtle dare, would be an overstatement. To say that he was not slightly disappointed; a lie. While he was more than used to the games women played, especially their way of playfully withdrawing when their pursuer advanced, it would have certainly made things... easier, if the nature of their relationship could have been established sometime soon. Preferrably now. It was an unusual situation, having his wife and another young lady in whom he was interested, in the same household, under the same roof, with hundreds of prying eyes all around. The keenest pair beloning to Marie-Elisabeth's very next door neighbour. Had they ventured a little bit further, he could have suggested other places and other times of day (or night) to meet, away from said prying eyes, and thus more easily prevented rumours from spreading, than he could in a situation such as this, where their encounters would be more or less public, and word would far more easily get back to Joséphine, and anyone else who might take an inconvenient interest.
But as long as Marie-Elisabeth wouldn't welcome him any further than to hold her hand - and now, as it seemed she had chosen the strategy of withdrawing, possibly not even that - such suggestions would not be made. Instead, he too would have to cool off and withdraw, as he couldn't afford to be careless and allow rumours to spread by increasing his efforts, like he might have, had they not all been living under the same roof. Couldn't afford it while others were around, at least. On a deserted country road, however?
Mainly from now on it would be up to her to give the signal for when, or if, she was ready to take things further, as he had shown quite clearly that while she might be 'apprahensive' to do so at this point, he was not.
"One does not get back in practice if one does not practice, Comtesse", he said, mildly reproaching, and shot her a teasing glance.
Then he suddenly withdrew his hand, which had remained on the table surface even after she had withdrawn hers, and stood abruptly, leaving little time for her to even react to his words.
"But very well", he said. "A ride along the countryside it is then. Shall I wait outside, or would you rather we do it some other time?"
|20th May 2008, 03:32 PM||Marie-Elisabeth & César - Her rooms #236|
It wasn’t very often in her life that Marie-Elisabeth would find herself at a loss for words. With the exception of the time following her father’s sudden demise, she was quite well known for her constant and lively chattering. Her mother had, when annoyed with her, insisted she would have been better off being born to a less affluent family so she could run off and become an actress.
“People would appreciate your nattering there Elisabeth” she would say, and Marie-Elisabeth would laugh and say “No maman, they would probably be upset with me for being so pretty and stealing all the applause, and throw me right back out from where I came”. And that would usually cause a faint smirk to appear in the usual impassive façade of Marie-Therese Normandie, and Marie-Elisabeth would be dismissed with a wave of her mother’s hand, often swearing she could hear the faintest laugh after she exited the room.
Yes she was usually a person who was very good with words, but it appeared now that her infamous talent was failing her. And miserably so. It seemed that what she wanted to say made so much more sense inside of her head than it did when she spoke it aloud. She had meant what she said; it wasn’t as though she didn’t want to continue the oh so interesting game that they were playing. On the contrary, she had been quite upset in the morning to think that the game had been over so suddenly and much relieved to find that it was not.
She didn’t have a great deal of time to process any more of her thoughts however as César abruptly stood up and made as if to leave. She silently swore in a most unladylike fashion, she had been married to a soldier after all so she knew more than a few colourfull phrases, and got up off of the chair she had been sitting in. “I’m quite aware that practice as you say is necessary” she said, unfortunately not having a great deal of time to consider her words “But that is precisely the point. There has been no real opportunity for me to do so in quite some time, and is it not a part of human nature to be reluctant about things we are less than certain of? No matter how much we may desire to do them".
Marie-Elisabeth wanted to give herself a mental smack on the head after that, she hadn’t quite intended for it to come out in such an abrupt way. She really had no idea where her sudden reluctance was coming from, and was currently experiencing a strong desire to go right back into bed and pull the curtains shut where no one could see her.
(((OOC: Oh yeah, they’re subtle all right. *snicker* Bout as subtle as a brick through a window. You should see them in game. I feel like Octavien because I'm always on distract Josephine detail.
And have I ever mentioned that Elena scares me for some reason? No idea why, probably because her sim looks so creepy :P)))
|20th May 2008, 04:03 PM||Roseline and Isabella // Palace Gardens. #237|
Join Date: Jan 1970
Roseline’s thoughts were not distracted even by the curious crowd that seemed to be beginning to appear a short way across the gardens. She should probably be more interested in the crowd, and what could have drawn so many courtiers to one place. The courtiers of the palace, on the whole, rarely gathered in great groups unless there was likely to be something for them involved or it was an occasion that may cause a surge of gossip later on. The crowd now moving in slightly with more people attempting to see what was going on, was likely to have been caused by the second reason of the two. Courtiers tended to keep themselves to themselves, and although Roseline was hardly any different it didn’t stop her from recognising it in others, most came from privileged backgrounds, and large manors in the country and so were used to getting their own way. A little like an only child, being forced to share all their toys, courtiers are, for the most part, simply not used to being so insignificant in a household.
She carried on walking away from the cluster of courtiers and instead settled for a slow stroll in the opposite direction. She allowed her eyes to wander through the sun-lit gardens, and soon, though her eyes moved her mind was elsewhere. Her dark dress didn’t feel fitting at all to the weather, and though her thoughts were somewhat more sombre after Louisa’s inadvertent reminder to Roseline about the death, she was still in far too much of a good mood to seem in mourning. Her thoughts rested for a moment on this.
Why did she care so little for her family? And, could it be perhaps, more for people here – in Court. She couldn’t know whether she had never cared, or just become more detached from them. It was true that she wasn’t particularly welcomed at home, but here she had made some sort of name for herself, hadn’t she? Was it truly awful for her to prefer not to be dressed so sombrely though she should be in mourning for her dear sister? Perhaps it was, and Roseline had become too detached from it all, caring for only herself. Yet, even as she thought it she realised it wasn’t true, she did care for people – Kaitlin among them. She pushed a stray blonde hair back off her face where it had fallen from the grasp of her hairpins because of Roseline’s downward turned head. She looked up. No, she had never really treated that place as home. Really, they cared as much to see her as she to them. But, that didn’t stop the fact that she had to wear this dark dress the first day of the year that the sun decides to appear. A quick flicker of a smile fluttered across her lips as the thought entered her mind. Here, she should be sitting upstairs in her room, mourning the death of her poor, dear sister – and she was out instead mourning the fact she must wear the black dress.
It was only when she had shaken her head to rid it of the amusing thoughts, and looked up again, back in her mind that she saw the young woman, obviously a noble of some sort but not one that she had seen around court. The girl gave Roseline a warm smile and beckoned her over. Roseline, after moving only a few steps closer, immediately realised that she had been reading, so she was most definitely of a title, though which Roseline was still no more aware.
She approached the woman with a smile, though she should probably not be taking this moment to socialise she thought a moment after moving toward the young woman and the corners of her own mouth lifter slightly more at the probably social faux-pas she had committed there. She soon approached the woman though, and Roseline could see that she was certainly a few years younger than herself – perhaps 19 or so.
“Bonjour Madame,” Roseline greeted her with a smile nodding her head down slightly, “I don’t believe we have met before. I’m Baroness Roseline Taylor, you arrived at Court recently?” Roseline then remembered Louisa telling her something of a ‘new’ arrival to Court gaining a new title this morning, and Roseline wondered if it was the pretty young woman in front of her who did – and why, of course.
((ooc;; Well, a bit short, yukish and rambly in the middle, but .. *lol* Slytherin. Yep. Veeeery subtle - lol that is all... ))
|20th May 2008, 06:00 PM||César & Marie-Elisabeth - la suite de Valois #238|
César's last statement had been meant to conclude the discussion; a way for him to let Marie-Elisabeth know that while he would be more than happy to help her dust off her 'talents', he would not push. For while he might be widely known for being quite restless, when it came to women, he could be a very patient man. Just as long as they didn't end up being more interested in seeing how much toying they could make him take, than in having the toying actually lead somewhere.
As fate would have it, however, Marie-Elisabeth seemed to either completely miss or completely ignore that last statement, but instead came to her feet just as swiftly as he had, apparently given the impression that he intended to take his leave and wanting to comment on his first remark before he had a chance to do so.
"I’m quite aware that practice as you say is necessary", she said, a slight urgency in her voice mirroring that of her actions. "But that is precisely the point. There has been no real opportunity for me to do so in quite some time, and is it not a part of human nature to be reluctant about things we are less than certain of? No matter how much we may desire to do them."
Quite frankly, it was a statement that left César somewhat unsure of what to think. When saying that she would actually prefer a ride in the country over 'getting back in the saddle' with him, he had thought she'd been sincere in that she was not yet ready to go any further, at the moment. Yet when he withdrew, and indicated that he was willing to accomodate her, she acted as though she really wanted him to somehow persuade her, much like some more experienced women desired for men to do, either by sweet words, or by methods a bit more... forceful. It was all part of the game; women feigning disintrest or even reluctance, only to be made to give in, to surrender and to submit.
César was in no way a stranger to that game. He just hadn't gotten the impression it was one that Marie-Elisabeth was playing. Yes, the two of them were playing games, but up until now, he hadn't thought hers was that particular one.
Or, was her reaction simply a sign that she afraid that her apprahension would make him loose interest?
"I do believe I have recently, as well as just now, provided you with all the opportunity you may require," he said, allowing his voice to take on a slightly softer tone. "But as much as I would like to be of service to you, I simply will not force a lady to learn, or in this case practice, if she is truly reluctant to accept my assitance."
(((ooc: Sorry, kinda crappy. have a splitting headache. :/ If something doesn't make sense, you know the drill.)))
|20th May 2008, 09:14 PM||Bella and Rosaline - Palace Gardens #239|
(((OOC:LOL, ME's subtle! And Elena sounds awesome!
It's fine Niamh, sounded pretty good to me. Let me know if I've gone off on a tangent here)))
Bella watched with the welcoming smile as the other woman approached with a similar amicable countenance. She seemed to be dressed completely in black, standing out as a stark contrast against the lush green and her golden locks. Bella decided not to question the woman’s attire, perhaps she was in mourning. Either way, she didn’t want to – nor saw any way to – get involved in whatever explained her colours.
As the form grew closer, Bella decided upon the polite thing to do and stood up to greet the other woman while she introduced herself.
“Bonjour Madame,” came the courteous greeting with a slight nod of the head to match the body language to that of the speech. She did not seem to be one of the more haughty nobles that hunted in these lands. Well, it was an assumption that Bella treated with a taste of salt given her experiences with the elitist Marie-Elisabeth, lecherous Larkin or the illusory Octavien, although the last proved to be a pleasure rather than an insult.
“I’m Baroness Roseline Taylor,” she introduced herself. “You arrived at Court recently?”
Bella could feel herself being studied briefly, in relation with something else. She could imagine what that was about; a new arrival at court immediately gains a title, it was bound to raise a few questions. Of course, it played straight into Bella’s hands; it gave her the exposure she wanted. That everyone had heard of her, at least in passing.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Baroness,” she returned the slight nod with a gracious smile. “I am Comtesse Isabella Devine.”
Bella lowered her eyes to the ground momentarily before glancing back up at the Baroness, finally shutting the book that she held in her hands. Escapism would have to wait another day. Bedtime reading, perhaps.
“I arrived at court only yesterday,” she replied the early question, still keeping the pleasing expression upon her face. The Baroness seemed agreeable enough and Bella was far from likely to pull ranks on her. “Have you been at court very long?”
"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
|21st May 2008, 02:32 AM||Marie-Elisabeth & César - Her rooms #240|
A thirteen year old girl is really just that. A girl. While physically it is quite a possible that she could be considered as mature as any grown woman, mentally she is still just barely a teenager. That 13 year old girl had been Marie-Elisabeth, who had ironically been interrupted playing dolls with her eldest brother Joseph’s young daughter, when she was told she was going to be married. In a matter of months she went from being a carefree little girl playing with dolls, to being the wife of a man four times her age and all that entailed. And scarcely a year after that she was a mother; growing up fast had been an unavoidable fact of life for her.
All of these things of course meant that Marie-Elisabeth was certainly no stranger to the more carnal aspects of human nature. She did have a child after all, she was aware of how these things went. But all her insinuations and double entendres, despite their less than innocent nature, were perhaps an intentional concealment of ignorance. The more that you pretended to know the less people would question your knowledge. I was not that she didn’t want do dispel said ignorance, she certainly did, but it was that same lack of knowledge that was holding her back. She just wished she could figure out a way to voice that aloud that made as much sense as it did floating around in her head.
“It isn’t” she began, stopping her speech almost as soon as it began. For one of the first times in her life, words just didn’t seem to want to come out and of her mouth. She let out an annoyed sounding sigh and dropped back into her chair. She took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s not that I truly am reluctant, but in a way it also is. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense at all and I’m sorry but”. She paused for a moment, biting her lip and intently studying the pattern of the chair. “I’m just sorry” she muttered, still staring at the chair arm, marveling at how fast things had gone from bad, to good, and right back to dreadful again
(((OOC: Since when do any of the conversations these two have ever make sense Don’t worry, tis just fine Hope your head feels better
And yes Alissa, I am definitely the Queen of all things subtle)))
|21st May 2008, 03:28 AM||César & Marie-Elisabeth #241|
(((ooc: Gah! I should be in bed by now, but... I just... can't... help myself!
Oh, and, slytherin, did I tell you I'm OCD about your avatar? I can't read posts with animated avatars rolling, so I always press the "Stop" button to make them stop, and with yours, I just HAVE to make sure it stops on Anne's pic. *lol* (Yes, I'm weird. And proud of it, too!)))
As far as men goes, it has never been a secret that sometimes, they are simply blind. Especially when it comes to women. There are times when the fairer sex feel they could hit their men over the head with the most obvious of observations, and they would still not notice until two weeks later, or quite possibly when sensing from the curt and aggressive replies they were given when attempting to hold a conversation with their woman, that something was wrong. At that point, it would be time for the notorious question of "What's the matter?", with the equally notorious and hostile answer "Nothing", followed by a bit of snapping back and forth, perhaps even an appearance made by the classic "If you can't guess, I sure ain't gonna to tell you" comment that has been known to drive men up the wall. Only once that whole scenario had played out, would there - sometimes - be put an end to the bickering, and a reconciliation made.
Then there were of course the few times when hitting a man over the head with an observation would actually work right away. And this one, would be one of them. When Marie-Elisabeth collapsed back down into the chair and began muttering, not unlike a sulking child, it suddenly dawned on César that she probably was not as experienced as she would let on. It was even part of the reason why he had taken an interest in her in the first place. Yet somehow, probably helped along quite nicely by her way with words, it had eventually slipped his mind, and he had started thinking of her not as a young widow, quite possibly with her only experiences of carnal pleasures being the ones shared with her husband - the old git - but rather as a woman very much familiar with the things she so skillfully alluded to.
Ah, such a fool he was!
Unfortunately, things weren't exactly made any better by her rather insufficient and incomprehensible explanation.
No, this simply wouldn't do...
"How am I to interpret that?" he asked, deciding that in light of how the conversation was going, it was perhaps best to drop all the charades and insinuations, and speak fairly bluntly instead. "Sorry for not making sense? For indeed, you are not. Or sorry for being unable to the point of hopelessness to allow me to... physically express my admiration of your beauty and your wits?"
Then he gave an aimless wave of his hand, to suggest a wide array of other possible answers.
"Or sorry for something else I have yet to realize is a possibility?" he added. "And what exactly is it that feeds your reluctance? Me, the deed itself, or just simply the insecurity born of your lack of practice?"
|21st May 2008, 05:27 AM||#242|
Join Date: Jul 2007
((Hi everyone. First I'd like to apologise for dropping off the face of the earth. I've been staying after school until 5 everyday then having massive amounts of homework and family issues on top of it all. But I know that's no excuse, and I feel bad enough as it is, but I need to hold off for a post until this weekend. It's a 4 day one and i should have no homework or responsibilities then, which will be perfect for post writing.
Once again I'd like to apologise for any inconveniences on my behalf and for disappearing.
ps - I am aware I posted this twice, but some people are not in VtM))
|21st May 2008, 06:06 AM||Marie-Elisabeth & César - Her rooms #243|
In a way, Marie-Elisabeth was relieved at the way the conversation was going, and at the fact that her half muddled statements had made some sort of sense. She really didn’t think she would be able to concentrate on anything enough to come up with any more thinly veiled insinuations or concealed statements. But on the other hand, she was quite possibly about to embarrass herself in a most colossal fashion. There didn’t seem to be any way around it though, so she supposed that she was going to have to bite the proverbial bullet and get it over with.
“Sorry for a lot of things” she said, using what little self control she still had to keep her tone level “Sorry that I don’t make sense, it’s really not my intention to be confusing. Sorry that the only experience I ever had was from an old man who must have had someone in his corner up there to even father a son at all”.
She gestured up to the ceiling with her braceleted hand, finally looking up from the arm of the chair she had been so intently studying. “I’m sorry if anything that I’ve said made you think my attitude has anything to do with you because I swear it doesn’t. And finally” she said, twisting her bracelet around her arm in lieu of her necklace “Sorry that you’ve apparently somehow managed to figure the truth out and that I’m suddenly wishing I could just disappear to save from being completely embarrassed”.
After finishing the statement she realized just how true it was. The prospect of going back into hiding in the drapes of the bed was starting to look increasingly attractive to her. At least it would save what small bit of silly pride she had left and she wouldn’t have to face anyone else for the rest of the day. And it would give her time to try and figure out just how a façade that had been so perfectly practiced and cultivated for so long had been broken so quickly, and by someone she had only known for a few days. Though it felt like much longer to her. Some of the things she had just said she had never spoken aloud to anyone before and she wasn't quite sure why she had said them now; especially in a situation with such a huge potential to explode in her face.
She finally looked over at César, half certain she was about the same crimson colour as the upholstery she had just been looking at so carefully.
(((ooc: HAHA! This is seriously the best avatar I’ve ever had! And obviously it needs to be stopped on the best one! *snickers* I should be in bed right now too, but I had to get this in first!!
“What’s the matter” *NOTHING* “Okay then” *explodes* Oh lord, I’ve had that exact conversation way to many times to count.)))
|21st May 2008, 01:41 PM||#244|
Joséphine and Octavien - Not in a tree anymore! - The Palace Gardens
Joséphine was rather relieved to see Octavien's eyes regain their focus and his forehead execute a slight nod that signalled he had indeed heard her soft whisper. Eager to use any means available as a distraction from the sharp throbbing that had invaded her insides, the Marquise devoted her attention to his explanation of how and where they were going to climb down and reach the ground safely. Noticing the lower branch Octavien was motioning at, it occurred to Joséphine that a more cynical mind would have instantly suspected something not entirely truthful was going on, for it provided a more than solid foothold for even a less than nimble individual to use. Or, perhaps Octavien, like most, had absolutely no confidence in a woman's physical prowess, nor did he know of the boyish habits left behind in Joséphine's childhood.
It took Octavien less than a minute to disentangle himself from the tree's branches and drop to the ground, signalling that she should follow. Careful not to allow distraction and the eagerness to feel firm soil beneath her feet once more subvert the final act of this staged performance, the Marquise inched her way along the branch, little by little positioning herself in the proper descent position before dismounting, ready to slide to a lower level and, from there, into Octavien's raised arms.
Searingly aware of his hands climbing along her thighs in their for her waist, Joséphine awaited the instant the Prince tightened his grip and simply let go of the branch, her arms finding stability on his shoulders as the rest of her slid against his body, joining them in what became, for a few fleeting moments, a close embrace, their breath mingling in the narrow distance between their faces. Although Joséphine's feet were planted firmly on the ground, she still felt as though part of her, possibly her stomach, had remained suspended somewhere in the branches above.
"He's bleeding!" exclaimed one of the women who had been watching breathlessly, and the spell was broken. Joséphine and Octavien released eachother at the same time, for the first time facing their “audience” which was by then buzzing with excitement. The Marquise's gaze fell on the ruby blotch that spread on the whiteness of Octavien's sleeve, alarm intruding in her expression: he was hurt indeed! Joséphine however knew that he must have received that wound somewhere else, having followed his movements from the moment his feet had left the ground until then – though it did little to lift her discomfort at the sight: he bled because he had rushed to help her. Even though the gathered courtiers probably knew it too, the likes of them thrived on the dramatic side of things and there was little doubt in Joséphine's mind the eventual rumour spreading would entail a vivid description of Prince Octavien Lahance tearing his arm open in his attempt to rescue the Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan from certain death, or something equally exaggerated. Such was the way of hearsay and rumours: they tended to grow more and more far fetched the further they got from the original source.
"Are you alright?" Octavien asked her "Would you like for me to arrange for a carriage to take you back to the Palace, or would you prefer that we walk? I'll send a servant to fetch your hat."
Nodding distractedly, Joséphine's brow furrowed momentarily as she forcibly brought her focus back on the situation at hand.
“Thank you, that would be fine” she answered airily. “I would rather walk, I believe some fresh air will do me good. Thank you...for everything.”
Glad to have left all the pointed stares and vicarious murmuring behind, Joséphine walked in silence alongside Octavien, somehow feeling convinced that if she were to speak, her voice would betray her thoughts, thoughts which currently relieved their stolen embrace just a few moments ago.
“Octavien...” the Marquise began, ready to address one of the safer matters that irked her mind “your arm...you should let...”she hesitated briefly “...someone dress it.”
Joséphine had been on the point of suggesting she dressed his arm herself, in an impulse of gratitude for his help, but in light of recent happenings, such closeness might have been ill-advised.
“Have you any idea where César might have gone to?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation towards safer grounds for them both. “I have not seen him all day, and he left early this morning, which, for César, is rather exceptional indeed.”
Ah the irony!
Aww poor Marie-Elisabeth. Do you know what's freaky though? Quite a few of César's actions and responses remind me of my boyfriend which is doubly funny because Atropa's female. *dons tinfoil hat* ))
If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
|21st May 2008, 02:58 PM||César & Marie-Elisabeth #245|
(((ooc: *lol* What can I say? They call me the 'man whisperer'. And poor Octavien! The two of them will be the end of him! *s* Or his sanity at least.)))
With all his antics and escapades, many of them nothing short of mischievous and naughty, César had never exactly been prone to feeling the weight of a guilty conscience. With him, the little devil inside reigned supreme, and the little voice in the back of his head, the nuisance beckoning him to behave and be good, had been silenced a long time ago. The only times when he would in fact feel the sting of guilt, would be when in a moment of careless rage, he'd allowed his sharp tongue to move quicker than his mind, and he had ended up throwing something hurtful in the face of a friend, or even worse, of his wife. For while he was in many ways a pure-bred rascal, he wasn't really a mean or evil person, and though while he might not be the most humble man around, he would still offer an apology - a truly sincere and willing one - when he knew he had been at fault, or hurt someone he cared about. Even unintentionally embarrassing them, especially if he knew them to be somewhat fragile, could be the cause of such an apology.
As was the case now.
In just a matter of seconds, he had realized that in spite of his 'good' intentions, he had managed to unintentionally push Marie-Elisabeth into a position which she found to be highly embarrassing, and to confess to him things that really were none of his business. And as she looked up at him, with waves of scarlet shame washing over her pretty face, he knew that he was to blame, and for once the scales of his conscience actually tipped to "guilty".
"But such a shame it would be if you did", he said and his voice took on an even gentler tone, mirrored by a faint, reassuring curving of his lips, as he slowly crossed the few feet seperating the two of them, "... for it would indeed make the world a much duller place."
Reaching her chair, he squatted down next to it and carefully took on of her hands in his, gripping it so gently that once again she would be able to slide it away from him, should she want to, and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles.
"Forgive me", he said softly. "It was not my intention to embarrass you, or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I simply... I suppose one could say I simply got carried away by my desire."
|21st May 2008, 05:31 PM||Marie-Elisabeth & César - Her rooms #246|
Pride was something that ran strong in the Normandie family, the chief example being Marie-Elisabeth’s own mother. Never mind that she had married into the family; that made no difference to her whatsoever. Every single one of her 16 children had been raised to be proud of thier heriatge and of who they were. To carry themselves in a way that showed everyone who saw them that this family was not one that showed any kind of weakness, or preferably didn’t have them at all. They were trained to be polite at all times, no matter how annoying or uncomfortable the situation was. To smile graciously when they wanted to smack the person they were talking to silly. To not tell other people if they were having problems, for that would imply a wekaness, but to solve them on their own. And above all, to never let that that façade have the tiniest crack in it.
Marie-Elisabeth had no doubt that her mother would be quite ashamed of the way she was acting right now, allowing the ever present calm demeanor she was supposed to display to crumble into little pieces on the floor. She could practically hear the angry voice in her head and that didn’t really help matters much. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s no fault of yours, only of my own” she said, taking deep breaths to try and get rid of the blush still spreading across her face “I don’t really know what’s come over me; I swear I’m not always like this”.
She then smiled and looked down at César . “I’m just immensely grateful that you somehow seem to understand what I’m saying. I know I probably make about as much sense as someone in bedlam and most people would probably laugh at me for it. It’s just…”. She paused for a moment to think, she didn’t want to be confusing again.
“It’s just that…well...for all I’ve said I do feel the same way I’m just…well I suppose you already know that anyway, I don’t have to say it”. Actually, she really didn’t want to have to say it aloud, her pride had taken to many hits already this morning for her to admit she was afraid of something. She just prayed to whoever was up there that he understood and she wouldn’t actually have to say it out loud.
(((OOC: Man whisperer *snicker* Very nice It really is amazing that you can write guys so well though Atropa. I can’t do it worth crap, and believe me I’ve tried. So kudos to you
And I've said it already, but poor poor Octavien)))
|21st May 2008, 08:08 PM||Roseline & Bella // Palace Gardens .. #247|
Join Date: Jan 1970
With a small smile, Roseline took the small pause before the woman before her spoke again to allow her eyes to travel over her. In every classical sense, the girl was beautiful and didn’t hide it – though unlike many of the ... less blessed courtiers in that area she didn’t give the impression of spending hours and hours on end getting ready though.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Baroness,” the woman replied, a smile flickering across her lips that Roseline returned quickly. “I am Comtesse Isabella Devine.”
The Comtesse’s eyes lowered traditionally to the ground momentarily and quickly found Roseline’s and shut her book, a glimmer of regret, perhaps, that she would not be able to carry on reading after being interrupted crossing her pretty features.
“I arrived at court only yesterday,” she replied to Roseline’s question, a happy expression fixed on her face, though not as if it were forced. A forced smile could always be seen quickly, and in Roseline’s opinion appeared worse than if they had simply allowed themselves to appear how they felt, yet the Comtesse appeared perfectly at ease and quickly continued. “Have you been at court very long?”
A simple enough question but Roseline couldn’t help the corners of her mouth turn upwards in a memory of her earlier thoughts.
“Much too long,” she replied quickly, the signs of her small smile still evident on her lips. Yes, perhaps it had been a little longer than she had been expected to stay – but Roseline didn’t regret that, many men stayed on at Court for years and years, and suddenly Roseline felt a need to go into further detail just in case her statement had sounded too complaining though a smile had accompanied the words. She didn’t know if the young Comtesse standing before her would take it as mere light-hearted joking or whether she took Roseline’s words as pure fact.
“Some months now,” Roseline elaborated finally, “I adore it here too much to leave.” She said, a light laugh spilling past her slightly parted lips as the final syllables left her.
Yet her thoughts took her down a different path, about the previous thought on the young woman. So, this must have been the Baroness to arrive, and within her first hours in Court to gain a title. Roseline would hate for her thoughts to lead her down cynical paths about various non-innocent reasons that the Comtesse to have gained a title. Yet, for once she seemed to settle that it must have been a perfectly innocent reason. The corners of Roseline’s lips twitched upwards once more at this thought, once – well most of the time before the death – she would have jumped to the conclusion that it had simply been a covered up reason for someone so new to progress so quickly. She was glad of that part of her demeanour changing, well at least for this young woman.
Roseline shot another warm smile at the Comtesse as the light laugh’s faded and finally gave a pointed glance at the book that the Comtesse was reading when Roseline had interrupted her.
“I do hope I haven’t detracted from your enjoyment of the day too much. It’s wonderful weather – finally – to get out into the gardens.” Roseline said with another warm smile and glance around the garden’s for just long enough to see that the small knot of courtiers had almost dispersed completely now.
((ooc;; Alissa: No tangent I can see. Also let me know if you wanted to move them onto something different...
Also, sorry for the shortness and general incoherence of it. I blabber so much *s*))
|22nd May 2008, 02:23 PM||Octavien & Joséphine - Palace gardens #248|
To be perfectly honest, while Octavien had his doubts as to the wisdom of Joséphine's desire to walk back to the Palace instead of having a carriage take her there, he was only too happy to leave the excited onlookers and the most annoying cacophony of voices behind. Offering Joséphine his left arm for once, to spare her from having to make the walk back supported by his injured right one and it's bloody sleeve, the two started slowly down the path from which they had both come not too long ago. All the while with Octavien keeping close watch on Joséphine's face for any signs that she might be about to collapse, mostly from out the corner of his eye to keep her from noticing, and with the only exception being a few seconds when he realized that the gathering of babbling courtiers had started following them like a trail of lemmings. He turned his head then to dismiss them with a warning glare, leaving them to think that he was still concerned about Joséphine and what dignity she had left, and thus wanted no more witnesses in case her decision would prove to be a foolish one, and she would end up passing out. Though it was only partly the truth, for while he was indeed worried about her, and didn't want her to have to suffer any additional humiliation, for the most part, he just wanted to get away from those nosey courtiers, and their incessant cackling that had started to eat through his skull and left him unable to hear his own thoughts. Thoughts that he desperately needed to hear, so that he could sort them out.
Luckily, it seemed that most of the courtiers realized that following the weary Marquise and the bleeding Prince was hardly the polite and proper thing for cultured nobility to do, and so they reluctantly fell behind, some of them still following from a safe and discreet distance, but most either stopping to keep exchanging juicy details, or hurrying off to pass the gossip on to friends and acquaintances.
In less than a minute, Octavien and Joséphine were granted blessed privacy, and Octavien breathed an internal sigh of relief. The experience from the other night in the Blue Salon were still memories fresh in his mind, and thus he'd had quite enough of courtly spectators for the time being, thank you very much.
At the same time, the new-found solitude posed yet another problem; that of the tense and uncomfortable silence inevitably bound to arise, following in the footsteps of what had just happened back there. A spark rekindled. A spark that they had both told themselves was long forgotten, gone, buried underneath layer upon layer of guilt and self-reproach, not to mention denial. The tension it - 'the incident' - had caused between them had been sorted and laid to rest the other day. But not the reason for it. Not the fact that it existed in the first place.
And now it came back to haunt them again, and add to the tension in the air. Simply because neither of them were like César, who, unbeknownst to him, was in turn one of embers that kept the spark glowing. Neither his friend nor his wife gave in to temptation as easily as he did, and they both felt it would be a betrayal if they did. Unlike César, who merely considered his indescretions to be his privilege for being born a man.
"Octavien...", Joséphine began in an attempt to break the silence, and Octavien felt a lump of ........ immediately lodge itself in his throat, in fear that she would want to talk about it.
Unlike the other day, when they had been riding in the forrest, he wasn't quite ready yet. His head was still spinning, and not only because of tangled thoughts eithers.
Much to his relief, however, Joséphine seemed to be on the same wavelength, and just as reluctant to address the issue as him.
"Your arm...", she said. "You should let... someone dress it."
She was completely unaware of it herself, but those were words that had pretty much the same effect on Octavien's senses as a bucket of ice cold water. A memory of Isabella instantly flashed before his eyes; of her sitting gingerly perched next to him on his bed, cleaning and re-dressing his wound while opening up to him in a way that she, according to herself, had not done with anyone else. And then him doing the same, confessing to her exactly what he had done to protect them both and their relationship, followed by a rather intense intermezzo, with Isabella's temper flaring and a slap burning harshly across his cheek, before it all suddenly began to ebb away, leaving only peaceful calm, and Isabella's soothingly soft voice lulling his senses to sleep, and her head resting heavily on his good arm.
She had only been gone for less than a day, and already he missed her. In truth, he had missed her long before she had even gone in the first place, for even though she had been there, he had not gotten to see her. Not alone. The King, the Queen's mother and Duc d'Lorraine had always been there to turn the exchange of gentle words and carresses, even their communicative glances, into an impossibility.
Was this why he felt so drawn to Joséphine? Was her appeal to him only the effects of his longing for Isabella, a way for his heart and his senses to express feelings whose true nature he could not afford to even acknowledge at this point, in fear that the look in his eyes might somehow betray him? Even though they looked nothing alike, was it Isabella he saw when looking at Joséphine?
It seemed plausible. Somewhat far-fetched, but plausible. Especially since he conveniently neglected to take into account the fact that the attraction had already been there months before, long before he had fallen for Isabella, or even met her. Deep down he knew it, that he was only fooling himself with thinking there was a connection between his feelings towards Isabella and his attraction towards Joséphine, but... right now, such self-deception was simply the most comforting option. And, there was of course always the minute possibility that there was a grain of truth in it; that there was a connection, and the spark between him and Joséphine had indeed been buried so carefully, that had he not missed Isabella so, it would never have come back to life...
"Have you any idea where César might have gone to?"
With Octavien having been too wrapped up in his own thoughts for it to occur to him that perhaps Joséphine had been awaiting an answer to her first comment - for Octavien to do his part in smoothing things over - it seemed Joséphine made yet another brave attempt.
Sadly, and unbeknownst to her, it only took things from bad to worse for Octavien. He knew perfectly well where César 'might have gone to', but he couldn't exactly tell the truth. No matter how annoyed he was with his friend and those womanizing ways of his, Octavien just couldn't betray his confidence, and hang him out to dry. Nor could he stand the thought of lying to Joséphine's face. Especially when he didn't want to take sides, and doubted that he would have been able to even if he had wanted to. In this matter, he was on Joséphine's side, as he did not condone cheating in a marriage that was filled with love and affection. But César was one of his very best friends.
"I...", he slowly started, and managed quite well to mask the frown her question had caused, as being a slight wince of pain, as luckily, he was just inspecting his bleeding upper arm, gently feeling and examining the area around the cut with his fingertips, but stopped to turn his head and look at her. "I think he said something about having a few things to take care of."
Not a lie, but a truthful reply so vague that neither party could blame him, should César's current doings and whereabouts come out somehow.
Still, it was probably best to change the subject again. Just to be on the safe side. And as it turned out, Octavien had the perfect excuse for doing so, without it seeming too sudden, as the matter was a bit of an urgent one;
"Will you allow me to escort you back to your suite?" he said just as the Palace entrance came into view from behind one of the tall hedges, and then added with a bit of an bitter sting in his voice as well as in the faint smile curving his lips; "Even though I suspect that if I do not promptly return to the privacy of my own, I shall have another lecture coming, as I do believe it is rather unrefined of me to have the audacity to bleed."
(((ooc: *random burst of happiness* I got the DVD box of the first season of The Tudors yesterday! Yay! *happy dance*)))
|22nd May 2008, 02:47 PM||#249|
Okay guys, I believe it's time for our courtiers to move on to Afternoon since it is Thursday, but I see no reason for most of you not to continue the arcs we're currently involved in, if that's what you want.
If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
|22nd May 2008, 03:01 PM||#250|
Bella watched as Roseline’s lips began to mould into a distant smile as she lent herself to memories. It seemed as if the other woman had been at court very long indeed, much longer than Bella in any case. And she obviously had had quite an experience.
“Much too long,” she said with that half-smile still lingering on her lips. Much too long and yet she somehow seemed to have definite pleasant memories associated with this place.
“Some months now,” Roseline continued after a short pause, perhaps feeling the need to explain her ambiguous statement. “I adore it here too much to leave.”
And yet the laugh that followed the statement seemed almost a scoff. Roseline appeared to be divided between the idea of delving into court and running from it, a similar predicament to most people unless they were cunning enough or simply ignorant. The problem lay in the fact that it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. Well, at least Bella could claim not to know the difference between the two and she was astute enough to assume she was the latter while everyone else was the former. While that always let the shadow of doubt linger in the back of her mind, it never stopped Bella from being charming and amicable.
Bella found herself the recipient of yet another warm smile from the Baroness. It was most certainly refreshing to experience sociability at court, but it was always a double edged sword. For her time at the English court, Bella had learned how the smiles always hid calculations, assumptions and plans. Perhaps that was just the English. Or perhaps the French hid even more. Either way, that mask of sociability was nothing to be compromised on and Bella made sure to keep the pleasant, welcoming look over her features.
“I do hope I haven’t detracted from your enjoyment of the day too much. It’s wonderful weather – finally – to get out into the gardens,” the Baroness continued, looking over the suddenly abandoned gardens. Bella realised that she had caught onto the fact that she’d held some regret about not finishing the book. Ah. It was no fault of the Baroness’s and of course, Bella would prefer the transient human company to that immortalised in the pages of a book. For now.
“No, not at all, Baroness,” she gave an assuring smile to Roseline. “I’m sure I’d enjoy the day far more with good company.”
"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies