(((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*)))

(((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."

((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.

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.)))

((ooc: The wedding won't be tomorrow, but the day after ))

(((OOC: He's adorable, Robyn! And congratulations on your cousin's baby! Is it a boy or a girl? )))

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.

“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)))

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."

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."

(((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)))

((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))

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. )

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 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* )))

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)))

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.

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. )

((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.