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Alchemist
Original Poster
#126 Old 2nd Jul 2008 at 9:22 AM
((ooc: Everyone, it is now Morning (I'll post announcements shortly)))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
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Lab Assistant
#127 Old 2nd Jul 2008 at 9:39 AM
Quote: Originally posted by FurryPanda
((OOC: Avara I really hate to be picky, but did you say that Rosaline's sister married a comte in Normandy? Cause [and correct me if my knowledge of British history is lacking] hasn't Normandy been an English province since the days of William the Conqueror (1066 and change?). It seems to me that as desireable a match as you described Yvette and Rosaline to be would be able to land Frenchmen, or if they/she didn't that Rosaline would have a strong enough opinion on the subject to merit mention in her bio. Just saying. And also, if you are going to stick with Normandy, the British title at the time would be in English, not French, so duke.))

( OOC: Copied directly from Wikipedia's page on Normandy.

"In 1204, during the reign of King John of England, mainland Normandy was taken from England by France under Philip II of France while insular Normandy (the Channel Islands) remained under English control. In 1259, Henry III of England recognized the legality of French possession of mainland Normandy under the Treaty of Paris."

So basically, Normandy belonged to France from 1204 and on long after. And the reason I put Yvette in there and her marriage is to illustrate the fact that she was not as desirable as Rosaline. Thus why her father married Yvette off to the first man who asked, lol. )
Alchemist
Original Poster
#128 Old 2nd Jul 2008 at 3:46 PM
Default Morning Announcements
-Morning Announcements-

You awake to find a beautifully ornate card awaiting on the desk. When opened, you realize it contains an invitation to a most joyous of events: the wedding ceremony between Prince Octavien Lahance and Elena Sánchez of Spain.




The card reads as follows:

Cher Monsieur/Madame,

You are cordially invited to attend the festivities organized in honor of the wedding between His Majesty Prince Octavien Lahance and her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, which will take place tomorrow at the Palace of Light and Air.

(The ceremony is scheduled to be held in the East side gardens, continuing with the banquet organized in the Great Dining Hall.)

We are looking forward to your presence during this most joyous of events marking the union of our lives.

Respectfully yours,

[signatures follow]


If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Scholar
#129 Old 2nd Jul 2008 at 4:28 PM
(((OOC: Ooooh how pretty I'll edit this with a post later, I have a whole bunch of running around to do today. But I did wat to ask you guys (Atropa and Ghanima) where you got the hairs that are on the sims of Jo, Cesar, and Elena. They're packaged with Maxis and I wanted to get them exact for my...project )))

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#130 Old 2nd Jul 2008 at 8:01 PM
(((ooc - slytherin - César's is Peggy, I think, and Elena's is Rose... And I think Jo's is too... But anyway, I recently decided to include all such items on the sims, so new versions will be available shortly. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
#131 Old 2nd Jul 2008 at 10:12 PM
Default Adele Rosseau || Great Dining Hall/Blue Salon
Adele’s eyes adverted over to the Baron, who was holding two wine glasses in his each of his hands. She would need some if she was ever to survive the night. He placed it down in front of her and she thanked him graciously, taking a quick sip. She was tempted to swallow it all in one gulp; it had been quite a while since she’d had such tasteful wine before. Yet she wouldn’t dare try such a thing. She knew that as soon as she finished the first glass she would have another, and another, until she was completely intoxicated. She had no desire to make a fool of herself. One glass wouldn’t do much harm, but two or three? She wasn’t planning on drinking that much anyway.

Why did he decide to join me? Immediately she felt a slight tinge of curiosity, wondering why on earth he would bother to stay and talk to her. Was it out of pity? Surely he didn’t feel sorry for her. There was nothing to be sorry about; nothing which she told him, of course. But there was the possibility that he felt as if he did something wrong and was trying to make up for it. Yet she didn’t think that could be the reason. She wasn’t upset at him but instead at herself, and her lack of preparedness. Adele felt as if she had been thrown into a new environment, where their social graces were completely different from her own. It was going to be a long road if she continued living here, but she felt it needed to be done. She would not become a drunken old fool like her father. If anything, she was determined to be a graceful young lady, no matter how difficult it may be.

“You sure you’re going to be alright? I’ve been told a day in my company is a long day,” the Baron said, giving a genuine smile. She quickly looked towards him, allowing the corners of her mouth to move upwards. A few more glasses of wine and I will be, she thought. Bringing her lips to the glass once more she felt the wine trickle down her throat, bringing her at ease. When she brought the glass back down to the table she realized she had drank a little over half, and sighed quietly. “At least I didn’t consume it all,” she muttered. Looking towards Larkin she smiled.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. “Really I will. And I greatly enjoyed your company.” Quickly she drank the last bit of her wine, savoring it until the last drop. Tasty it was; so tasty in fact, that she wanted another. But she forced herself to do otherwise. What would people say about her if she had too many? She looked towards the Baron, trying to figure out what was going on with him. He didn’t still think she was upset with him, did he? “I know that I’m not in the brightest of moods at the moment, but I truly did mean what I said,” Adele added, hoping it would reassure him. “Talking to you has been the most conversation I’ve had in days.” She gave him another smile, hoping he would understand that he did nothing wrong.

“So I thank you.”

Gazing towards the opposite end of the room Adele rose from her seat. “It’s getting late, and I should be getting back.” She began to leave, but quickly stopped herself and turned back around. “I do hope to see you again, Baron Larkin.” With that she pushed in the chair, and swiftly made her way back towards the doors, not bothering to look back as she turned the corner. Rest; right now, that’s what she needed the most.

____________________

Shifting slightly in her bed, Adele slowly opened her eyes to the new day that had come. Her head rested in the assorted pillows that lay about the bed, and she smiled. A new day meant a new start for the young twenty-two year old. Her hands moved slowly to the edge of her sheets and she pulled them back, slowly rising to her feet. Taking a few seconds to allow her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room, she sighed quietly, gazing around her suite. Adele’s soft, blue eyes landed on her desk where a letter lay. Eyeing it she walked over, noticing the beautiful detail of it:

Cher Monsieur/Madame,

You are cordially invited to attend the festivities organized in honor of the wedding between His Majesty Prince Octavien Lahance and her Excellency Elena Sánchez de Suárez y Torre, which will take place tomorrow at the Palace of Light and Air.

(The ceremony is scheduled to be held in the East side gardens, continuing with the banquet organized in the Great Dining Hall.)

We are looking forward to your presence during this most joyous of events marking the union of our lives.

Respectfully yours,
[signatures follow]

Adele was surprised that the wedding was so soon. “A bit soon, isn’t it?” she said aloud. They barely had a chance to meet one another, let alone get married. Yet as long as they loved each other it didn’t matter. It would be nearly impossible to love someone when you have only met yesterday, but she thought nothing more of it. It had nothing to do with her anyhow; she had no right be making accusations. But she wondered whether or not their marriage would end in happiness or destruction. Placing the letter back on her desk Adele took the time to change into her dress and brush her hair, which was completely entangled in knots. Though she was wincing in pain the young girl continued to comb through it, brush stroke after brush stroke. Her hair was extremely difficult to take care of, with all the knots and tangles spread around in her golden hair. Taking care of one’s hair is not easy especially if you hair is extremely long, which unfortunately is the case with her. But luckily her hard work paid off, for her hair was now free of knots. Putting the brush on her nightstand, she turned and walked over to her desk, gently picking up a book she was reading. She then strode out into the hallway carrying her book with her.

She had planned to Blue Salon and read with no interruptions, and no problems. Peace and quiet; that is the only thing she wanted. Turning a sharp corner, Adele entered the Blue Salon, feeling relieved that there was no one to pester her in her time of silence. Taking a seat she opened her book and began to read.

Flip, flip, flip.

Every so often you could hear the turning of pages moving swiftly and quickly, the breathing of a twenty-two year old, and the occasional tapping noise. That was all, and it was all she wanted to hear. Nothing but those three sounds. Other than that, there was complete silence. And for once, Adele was not agitated, nor embarrassed or upset; she was calm. Silence, how wondrous it was. It was the one thing that made her feel peaceful and serene. Silence, she thought, as she continued to read.

((Approachable))
Top Secret Researcher
#132 Old 3rd Jul 2008 at 2:48 AM
Default Larkin- Gallivanting
Larkin was inordinately flattered when Adele accepted the proffered wine with a polite thank you and took a dainty sip. Even nicer? There were no further unpleasant facial fluctuations when he spoke. In fact her face broke into a smile. A controlled smile, yes, but far better than the fury she had demonstrated before. If fury it was.

She took another sip of wine, draining half her glass and muttered under her breath, "At least I didn’t consume it all." Larkin figured he wasn't supposed to respond to that, so he maintained a pleasant and neutral expression. She spoke a bit more, diplomatically thanking him for his time, and then excusing herself to abscond to the hallway.

Larkin stayed to eat a good meal- roast duck on wild lettuce- and chatted lightly with the drunk fellows he had noticed earlier, before going to his suite. He dismissed Ambrose to spend his evening as he would, finding out about Adele could wait for a more decent hour of the day.

The morning dawned, and Larkin awoke to Ambrose dropping a slip of paper on the writing desk, with a conspicuously torn envelope. Larkin idly contemplated reprimanding the lad for so shamelessly reading his correspondence, but Larkin decided to forgive him- mainly because doing elsewise would require actually rising. He let out some sound which cued Ambrose to his wakefulness, and the boy proceeded to say that an invitation to the royal wedding had arrived.

Larkin's face visibly darkened at the thought and Ambrose took the hint to leave, leaving Larkin to his silent musings. It was an old wound, her arranged marriage and by the time Ambrose returned with Larkin's attire the baron was quite composed. Dressing quickly, Larkin took another envelope that Ambrose handed him, this one from his steward and mercifully unopened. Cracking the rrather thick envelope open Larkin saw that the dutiful steward had heard of his impending return and equivocated on a number of issues until "his lord and leige" could return to offer his opinion. Happily the man was quite unconcerned about Larkin's gaffe with Lady Devine.

Larkin decided to answer the steward's letter outside of his suite, more from a boredom with the decor than anything else. He decided on the blue salon, at this hour it should be nearly deserted, and he had seen a few desks there.

Upon arriving he saw the room was empty except for the now seemingly omnipresent Baroness Adele. He paused in the doorway and he finally graced her with a small nod before going to a desk to work on his letter. He had acknowledged her presence which was enough for the purpose of social requirements. If she wanted to speak to him, very well, if not he did have work to do. He set to and idly wondered whether it would be in poor taste to filch leftovers of that duck dish from last night as he checked some crop tallies the steward had included.

((OOC:As he mused, she can talk to him or not as you see fit))

The humor of a story on the internet is in direct inverse proportion to how accurate the reporting is.
Scholar
#133 Old 3rd Jul 2008 at 4:25 AM
Default Marie-Elisabeth : Nosy neighbour dodging, visiting, and waiting for her boy
Marie-Elisabeth awoke the next morning to what she sincerely hoped would be a much more Bella free day than yesterday. She had had enough of having to paste on fake smiles and pretending to be a featherbrain to last her for quite some time. Before bed she had attempted to decide whether it was worse to be forced to sit through dinner with Bella or her late husband’s two dreadful brothers, and had given up after she started to develop a headache.

It wasn’t that she didn’t see the necessity in behaving how she had, oh no, she saw it very clearly. And that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that Bella, unlike others she had met at court, couldn’t be trusted, just confirmed her thoughts. She would have behaved the way she did just due to that feeling alone, but the pretentious and really rather annoying way Bella had acted when they met just sealed the deal.

Marie-Elisabeth yawned and stretched as she slid out of bed, attempting to clear all Bella related thoughts from her mind. She found it wasn’t particularly difficult as much more pleasant thoughts soon filled it when her eyes fell on the ornate invitation perched on her bedside table. Mentally thanking Jeanne, she opened it and quickly skimmed over it. “A garden wedding” she mused, already mentally going through both hers and Charles’ wardrobes to decide on something suitable to wear “I bet it will be lovely. All those wonderful spring flowers, the beautiful atmosphere, they certainly picked the best possible time for a wedding. Unlike my mother who insisted I get married in the middle of December”.

She glanced around nervously as she said that, and then chided herself for doing so. “Despite what she says Lisabeth, Maman isn’t everywhere. Stop that”. Setting the card down, Marie-Elisabeth called for Jeanne to come and help her get dressed for the day. She had informed her the previous night, after finishing penning letters both to her mother and her darling son, that she wanted to wear her blue dress for the day. She had already worn it that week, but it was Charles’ favourite and she wanted to wear it for him when he arrived later that afternoon.

It didn’t take particularly long for her to get dressed, it never really did. Most of the time was spent pinning her long blonde tresses up into their signature tight curls, and perching the small blue hat that matched her outfit securely on top of her coiffure. And most of that time she spent thinking about Charles and how much she was looking forward to his arrival. With all the distraction she had lately, some much more pleasant than others, she hadn’t had much time to consider just how much she missed him. But now that his arrival was only a morning away, those feelings all came back to her.

As soon as Jeanne was finished she thanked and dismissed her, carefully placing her locket around her neck and fastening her bracelet around her tiny wrist. All preparations thus completed, she tentatively opened the door and glanced out. Seeing no sign of a certain neighbour of hers, she quickly made her way out the doors and down the hallways. She made a brief stop at the court accountant’s office before making her way towards the main foyer of the palace, smiling and counting the hours until her son was due to arrive.



(((OOC: Approachable.

Thanks for the hair info! I’ll be SURE to post lots of pictures of what will no doubt be an epicly slap festy asylum *snicker* And methinks we all know who'll be the biggest instigator

And the dress I linked to is exactly what I mean for her, including the hair and hat (I did already use it one I think) Except no bow thingy around her neck. That would cover up her locket )))

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
#134 Old 3rd Jul 2008 at 3:40 PM
Default Adele and Larkin || Blue Salon
of Baron Larkin, and immediately her stern demeanor softened slightly. He stood in the doorway for a moment noticing her presence and he nodded graciously, with Adele returning the gesture. As he sat down she couldn’t help but notice the letter he was holding in his hand. “Following me are you?” she asked him suddenly. A soft smile emerged on her lips and she let out a laugh, knowing full well that wasn’t the case. But a little joke would case no harm. “It’s good to see you again Baron.” She then turned back around and decided she would speak no more. He appeared to be preoccupied with his letter, so she opened her book and continued to read where she left off.

Though the Baron was now present Adele could still hear the silence lingering around the room. As she read she began to wonder how the rest of the evening went when she left. She didn't bother to stay for dinner for she was much too tired, and went straight to bed as soon as she entered her suite. But unfortunately in the morning she awoke to an growling stomach, and soon regretted her early departure from the Grand Dining Room.

Turning to the Baron she opened her mouth to speak, but quickly decided otherwise. Did he want to be bothered? It certainly didn't seem that way. He probably came to the Blue Salon to get some peace and quiet like herself. No disturbances ever. She did have a few questions to ask about last night, but she decided to ask him later in the day. So instead of being a nusiance and bothering the Baron she turned back to her book and began to read, though she didn't find it the the least bit interesting. It was an informational book which people in most cases, found dull and boring. Yet she didn't mind it so much. If it allowed her to learn something she didn't already know, then there was no reason not to read it.
Top Secret Researcher
#135 Old 4th Jul 2008 at 3:17 AM
Larkin was a fairly subtle man, when he went people watching, it generally was not noticed. Indeed as he had walked into the room he had known Adele was there, but reflexive observations of reaction had made him wait to see how she would react. As she had heard him enter she had seemed annoyed at the sound, most likely at the invasion of whatever privacy could be found indoors in the Palace of Light and Air. Upon seeing him her expression had warmed notably, and she returned his nod when he gave it.

By this time Larkin had arrived at the desk and set out his letter, as well as a new sheet of parchment. Adele had done nothing more, in the admittedly short space of time this took, but even though convention would hold she greet him verbally he was still pleasantly surprised when she did say, in a sudden and brusque manner, “Following me are you?” He heard her give a small laugh and out of the corner of his eye he saw a smile grace her lips. He turned his head to return the smile, as was only polite, but it widened into a very sincere one as she continued, "It’s good to see you again Baron.”

He turned back to his letter quickly, hopefully before she saw how much her words pleased him and answered, "Pleasure is all mine Baroness, I did most enjoy our conversation last night." True enough in its way, that statement, but nonetheless it said very little. Larkin did not necessarily think of himself as a tired old courtier, but then again, few tired old courtiers would admit to that status. He reopened the stewards letter, but the thought of crop tallies and the good steward's trade crisises seemed stifling at the moment, so he leisurely replaced the letter and mostly blank reply back in the envelope to devote his attention to his companion. Not directly of course, but should she wish to speak, he was making it clear he wasn't doing anything.

The humor of a story on the internet is in direct inverse proportion to how accurate the reporting is.
Alchemist
Original Poster
#136 Old 4th Jul 2008 at 5:03 PM
César, Joséphine and Octavien - preparing to leave for the picnic

Joséphine's eyelids fluttered apart, squinting almost instantly against the sun's glare that streamed freely through an opening in the curtains. A drowsy smile found its way on her lips as she stretched and yawned, along with one thought which percolated her awareness: the picnic! It sent a thrill of joy through the young Marquise, who paused momentarily to review the previous night's agreement in her mind: after the sumptuous and almost formal dinner held in the Grand Dining Room, the two pairs -César and herself, joined by Octavien and his Spanish bride- departed together for their suites. Once Her Excellency had vanished behind the doors of her chamber, the three friends took advantage of an increasingly rare moment of privacy, during which César slipped a mention of Octavien's final day as a “free man”, playfully tempting him into revealing whether he had planned anything special to mark the occasion. Since he hadn't, Joséphine thought of the invitingly pleasant weather they had been blessed with over the past few days, and suggested a picnic near the lake, just the three of them. It did not take long for the suggestion to become an agreement, as though each of them sensed these light-hearted escapades would become fewer and fewer once Octavien married.

Quite the opposite of the glum sullenness which the previous day had crept into her mind and heart alike, Joséphine pushed the covers aside and leapt gleefully to her feet: deep down she knew well that the grievance with César was far from resolved, but for the moment it remained subdued, buried underneath the anticipation of a pleasant outing in the picturesque heart of the Palace gardens, away from the prying eyes of courtiers, and away from her. Taking a few steps around the suite, Joséphine noted a beige card bound with a red bow; she recognized it for what it was before even opening it, for it could have only been one thing: the invitation to Octavien and Elena's wedding. Sighing quietly, the Marquise set it down again and glanced at the shaggy top of César's head that was just visible from under the covers, as reluctant as ever to leave their snug comfort. Joséphine pried them apart just a little bit and reminded him of their appointment, which earned her a surly grunt from her husband. Chuckling to herself, she then reviewed her wardrobe for something to wear, eventually selecting a soft blue gown, which was elegant -considering the company she would be in- but not overly so -suited for a picnic-. This reminded her of something César had mentioned the other night, that he had ordered some new fabrics and patterns for her to look at and decide on for some new dresses. The gesture, although disguised as nothing but a gift from a loving husband, left Joséphine wondering whether he was secretly trying to make up for ...recent events. He had been known to use the same tactic in the past after having spent time away from their home and marital bed, “on business” or “with friends”, apparently convinced in his male mindset that a few pretty garments were enough to wipe any grief off a woman's brow. Another sigh accompanied this thought.

Eventually, César was persuaded to accept the fact that time had caught up on them and their maid was summoned to help them dress, which took a considerable amount of time. This meant that they both assumed a quick pace across the corridor and down the flight of stairs which brought them to the Main entrance hall, where Octavien was arriving with several servants in tow, all carrying the various paraphernalia needed for a royal picnic.

((ooc: I hope this works, Atropa!))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#137 Old 4th Jul 2008 at 10:49 PM
Default Octavien, César and Joséphine - Palace entrance
Ever the early riser, and painfully aware that it might be the last day he could spend entirely the way he chose to, when Octavien had left the Palace the first time around this beautiful morning, it had been in dawn's early light, when the sun had just barely risen above the horizon, painting the sky in the vibrant colors of red, pink and orange. His mind had been set on enjoying every minute of it, as starting the next day, he supposed that he would from then on be expected to share part of his morning procedure and have breakfast along with his new wife daily. Unless, of course, the two of them could come to some sort of agreement similar to the one he'd had with Adalita; that they lived their lives seperately, and only appeared together for official events, or other circumstances that called for it. Right now, however, it was far too early to tell whether such an agreement would be possible or not, as Octavien still dwelled in darkness regarding Her Excellency's intentions and attitude towards the whole thing. She seemed agreeable enough, but that could be as much of a problem as it could be a blessing, depending on her feelings regarding Octavien and their marriage. If she had as little interest in him as he did in her, the only problem would be for the two of them to figure out the mutual disinterest, so that the agreement could be made. If she had hopes for a real, traditional marriage however... Well, then it might prove to be difficult indeed, because Octavien really wasn't out to hurt or offend her, and how did one go about telling someone you preferred to have as little as possible to do with them, without doing that?

However, these were all thoughts Octavien had left to be pondered later, as he really didn't intend to have anything clouding this 'last day as a free man', as César had put it.

Knowing he had a few hours before he was to meet up with his two friends, who, contrary to Octavien himself, were hardly known for being early risers, the young Prince had made his way to the stables, to start off the day the best way he knew how; on the back of a horse, gallopping along the paths in the forest and across the nearby fields, letting the speed and the fresh air peel away any last trace of sleep, and wash his senses with clarity and vivacity, preparing him for whatever the day ahead of him might bring. This morning, and for this purpose, he chose one of the beautiful Lippizan stallions he knew had been acquired from one of his own father's stud farms, and soon set off on the magnificent beast, leaving behind a small cloud of dust drifting aimlessly across the stableyard, before dissipating.

During the few months he had been at court, he had already spent enough time riding and roaming the Palace grounds and their surroundings, to know each path like the back of his hand, and thus soon turned the horse from the main road through the forest onto another, slightly narrower one, choosing a route he knew would eventually lead him back to the Palace. He didn't want to be late for meeting with César and Joséphine, nor did he desire to show up smelling of horse. Therefore, it was within the hour that he returned to the stables, cheeks flushing red from the wind and the effort, his face and the upper part of his chest, visible through the loosened lacing of his simple, white shirt, glistening with a thin, thin layer of sweat. Dismounting with the grace of an experienced rider, he then handed the reins to one of the stableboys, offering a bright and satisfied smile in the process, before heading back to his suite, a cleansing bath and fresh clothes.

When once again he emerged through the double doors, he had been dressed in a dark purple frock coat, with cream colored breeches, both perfectly tailored, but suitably simple in that neither had been decorated with lace or embroideries that could easily be torn during outings such as the one Octavien was about to indulge in. His gossamer hair had been neatly pulled back by a black ribbon, as always, and on his feet was a pair of comfortable leather boots, perfect for walking and riding. Outside the suite Gilles was waiting along with a handful of servants, carrying baskets with food and wine, blankets, parasols, and other 'necessities' for the Prince's picnic. Gilles was just finishing his inspection of what had been brought, and turned to Octavien as the young man stepped through the door, giving a nod of approval of the preparations.

"Everything is ready, Your Majesty", he said with a deep bow.

"Thank you, Gilles", Octavien replied with a faint but warm smile. "You may go. I doubt I shall recquire your assistance until tonight."

At that, the elderly man gave another bow, and Octavien turned to leave, making his way down the stairs towards the Palace entrance, with the rest of the servants trailing a few paces behind him. They all reached the first floor just in time to see César and Joséphine approach from the hallway in which their suite was located, and Octavien greeted with yet another warm smile, only wider this time.

"Your Highness", César said with a slight smirk, while forcing himself into a bow.

He still had quite a bit of trouble adjusting to the severely reversed roles of him all of a sudden finding himself far beneath his old friend in rank, and thus still could not deliver such a submissive salut without making it sound as though there was some ironic joke hiding in there somewhere.

"My", he then added once he'd straightened his back. "You're looking mighty cheerful this morning."

"I have no choice, do I?" Octavien immediately retorted, still smiling, as witty remarks were rarely far away when the two men got together, especially when either of them had just brought the other's need to retaliate upon themselves. "For if I didn't, we'd all be made to listen to you whine about how I don't appreciate your company, or something equally melodramatic."

That being said, he then turned to Joséphine, leaving César no chance to deliver a comeback. Which, in secret, César was quite grateful for, as Octavien's remark had actually managed to take him by a bit of surprise, thus leaving him speechless for a second or two, which in turn would have been made noticable, had Octavien not turned to the pretty brunette by César's side, and continued;

"Joséphine, you're looking radiant as ever. Life at court agrees with you."



(((ooc: Ghanima - Works perfectly. Oh, and, I would have moved them on out of the Palace, but I didn't want to rush things, nor have Octavien seem like a three year-old on speed.


Also; they're not approachable.)))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
#138 Old 5th Jul 2008 at 12:31 AM
Default Adele and Larkin || The Blue Salon
A kind smile formed on the Baron’s face which then became much more heartfelt, for her words appeared to delight him. He seemed to notice this for he quickly turned around to his letter, which had been lying on the desk. “Pleasure is all mine Baroness, I did most enjoy our conversation last night.” Adele nodded her head and opened her mouth to reply, but he opened the letter once more as if continuing to reply to it. But he paused midway, suddenly putting the letter and his reply back into the envelope. He obviously had no desire to respond to this unknown letter, so she face him one again.

“I also had lovely time yesterday,” she replied, giving a slight smile. “Although I wish I had stayed for a bit longer last night. Had I been thinking more clearly I would have eaten something before deciding to departure.” She sighed at her own foolishness, shaking her head slightly. Unfortunately she would have to wait a few hours before she had the chance to eat anything, and she was on the brink of starvation. Yet maybe if she asked to have a small bite to eat, it might hold her over until dinner came round. Turning to face the Baron she continued.

“I hope you didn’t mind me leaving so abruptly like that.” She pondered a bit, deep in thought, then continued on. “Was everything alright after I left? There was no trouble, I assume.”

Adele opened her mouth to continue to speak but quickly decided otherwise. She felt as if she was beginning to sound like someone’s mother; always questioning their child to see if they were alright, constantly trying to shield them from danger, and always seeming to worry. But she was certainly nobody’s mother, and had no intention of acting like it either. So instead of continuing her interrogation, her gaze traveled to the opposite end of the room and she laughed, she blue eyes shining. She gave a quick glance towards the Baron, wondering how he would react. Surprised, baffled, maybe even upset perhaps? She sighed, wondering why on earth she was so concerned about it. She had no need to worry – no reason to even think twice about it. Of course there was Baron Larkin, but she had just met him yesterday. She hadn’t even known him long enough to even consider him a friend. In her opinion, acquaintance was a more appropriate word.

But that still did not explain her reason for such concern. She sighed, knowing that she would not be able to figure this out in only a few minutes. Yet countless thoughts continued to rack her brain as she closed her book and rested her hands in her lap, waiting for the Baron’s reaction.
Scholar
#139 Old 5th Jul 2008 at 1:03 AM
((OOC: *snickers at thought of Octavien running aroud like a sugar/ generally high 3 year old* *then coughs and points to sig*)))

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
Scholar
#140 Old 5th Jul 2008 at 12:59 PM
Default Bella - Her rooms - Midnight ideas and the morning after
(((OOC: Atropa, Ghanima, I hope it's okay what I had Bella do. I couldn't think of any other way for her to find out that Berini's dead and she wouldn't just let go of the opportunity to talk to him if he was still around. But if it is a problem, do let me know )))

After one whole day’s dedication to an exceptionally unnerving Comtesse, Bella knew she had shown equally exceptional restraint in not using cutlery as weapons when the woman just kept going with her frankly excruciatingly painful company. Bella had never before thought that the expression ‘I’d rather watch paint dry’ could mean so much. But it had. Further more on the subject of Marie-Elisabeth, the woman was either completely dim-witted, completely self-absorbed or completely secretive. Well, Bella being ever paranoid, decided to add the last to the list compiling what she knew of her neighbour; possibly home-wrecker, pretentious and secretive. They were going to be good friends, she could tell.

However, after dinner, she had managed to give Marie-Elisabeth the slip and struck up conversation with a few other, more knowledgeable courtiers who seemed to have a fraction of a clue as to what was going on in the world around them. Eventually, through the ins and outs and helped greatly by Elena’s grand entrance, she was able to elicit certain important information rather inconspicuously. For starters, a Marquess Berini had apparently been behind the attempt on Octavien’s life and it’d caused such an uproar that it suggested that Marie-Elisabeth must have been blind, deaf and shut up in her room to have not heard the gossip. Therefore, communicating with Bella was the problem there. Well, looks like her dear neighbour would have to serve as Bella’s entertainment then.

Yes, Marquess Berini. He’d apparently requested a meeting with the Prince, gone in there and, five minutes later, tried to stab him. Just as a point of interest, why exactly was he having Octavien killed? To save the monarchy from a Prince who wasn’t royal blood? So was that so that they could make allegiance with another country by marrying off Princess Adalita to a groom from a foreign land? Possible, but rather improbable seeing as they already were married and Adalita –who’d have been widowed if the attempt had been successful – would perhaps refuse to marry again for quite some time. A little twist of fate then, that she died, he’s a widower and due to be married again in a day.

Also just out of interest, what exactly was the Marquess planning to do once he’d managed to kill Octavien? What a stupid way to assassinate someone…. Wait. That really was incredibly dense. So, was Berini just some perpetually drunk fool or was there something more to it? Was he a sacrificial lamb, sent as a threat to Octavien rather than an actual attempt on his life? So, who were these people and why exactly was Octavien being threatened rather than killed? Did they need him to dance to their tunes? Also, had Berini just lost his mind and decided to sacrifice his entire future on a whim? He had to have been offered something.

Alright, hold on, Bella, she halted herself. That was a conspiracy theory and it needed some work. It needed more information, proof and she wasn’t going to get either of those lying half-asleep staring at the canopy over her bed. Yes, that’s right, her epiphany had managed to strike right in the middle of slumber. Always so co-operative. Therefore, she could not go back to sleep because this was playing rampantly over her mind, taking paths and avenues explore more and more possibilities and she could not go to sleep just in case she did manage and forgot about the whole idea come morning.

Hence, out of bed it was, in the middle of the night, by candlelight, the lone figure of Bella easing herself into her dressing gown as she moved to her desk, sitting at the chair to formulate a plan. Firstly, she had to locate this Berini, find out where he was, if not executed, and what would make him talk regarding why he’d made such a pitiful assassination attempt. Obviously, if he was still alive, he’d be stationed at a dungeon somewhere and they didn’t have the best mail service. His family or his estates would be the best place to look. Except, they weren’t likely to release his details to just anyone.

Well, money made the world go around. It took Bella only a short moment to come up with a feasible idea. She’d pretend to be a lawyer. She’d pretend to be a lawyer of a deceased aunt, who died a wealthy spinster and left Berini her cats and some of her silver. It stood a good chance of working and therefore Bella wasted no time in getting into the crux of things. Being naturally left-handed, and that feature having been declared a sign of the devil, she had been taught to write with her right hand. That did not mean that she stopped using her left hand for writing. Therefore, Bella ended up with two distinct handwritings, one for each hand. For the letter, to avoid any danger of detection, she used her left-handed writing. Having finished, finally asking for Berini’s whereabouts to approach him to sort out the details of the transaction, she wrote down the return address of a good friends; Jean-Louise’s. Jean-Louise had been at the Abbey with Bella and had grown to be a dear friend, almost a sister. She’d know what to and Bella would write a letter in the morning outlining what she expected.

With that, she finally retired to bed again, falling asleep steadily with no burden in her mind. Dreams and blank periods of time passed and eventually morning called, rousing Bella from sleep. The half-hour or so that she lost writing the letter had made no real difference to the degree of renewed energy with which she woke, rising out of bed with enough zeal to even hope for a whole day without dear Marie-Elisabeth. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so here’s hoping. With the help of Grace, Bella was soon dressed and ready, in her moss green dress, her hair done to let the loose curls hang free.

Sufficiently ready, she wrote the letter to Jean-Louise before handing out the rest of the orders for errands Grace was to carry out for her. Grace having been Bella’s maid for years on end now, would not question it, neither fail to fulfil it to the best of her ability.

“I want you to find Marquess Berini’s home address – it should be in the records somewhere – and post this to reach there,” she said handing the unlabelled envelop to the maid before handing the one address to Jean-Louise. “Make sure you raise no questions. Also, post this other letter.”

With that, she simply moved into the salon of her suite, taking a few moments to herself before she was ready to go out, lest her wonderful neighbour lingered there.

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Alchemist
Original Poster
#141 Old 5th Jul 2008 at 1:59 PM
Elena Sánchez could not bear being idle; from the crack of dawn until she drifted asleep late the coming night, she required an occupation to keep her mind alert and senses sharp, whether she met with people she was interested in for whatever reason, or some other matter had her engaged, she tirelessly kept reaching towards her next goal: nothing was left to chance, or at little as possible, and at the end of the day Her Excellency went to bed with the distinct impression that twenty-four hours were never sufficient for her to accomplish everything. She could simply not comprehend the affinity so many had for leisurely mornings spent lounging about doing nothing productive, or even worse, sleeping until midday, or, the greatest offender of them all, days upon days filled with nothing but frivolities that served no real purpose but indulgence. Ah, the senselessness of some!

Perhaps due to the fact that the suite did not yet meet all her requirements thus having spent a slightly restless night, Elena awoke even earlier than usual, a glance at the sky patch visible through the window revealing a starry expanse of compact washed-ink blue, growing brighter along the eastern edge of the horizon. This, combined with Elena's excellent inner clock confirmed the hour was just before five, give or take. Not even considering trying to drift back to sleep, she pushed the covers aside and emerged from the luxurious canopy bed, reaching for a deep crimson and gold dressing gown stitched with pearls and summoned Juanita to her along with everything necessary for a bath.

Half an hour later, as she sat in the tub amidst the warm water which soaked her body while clouds of steam billowed towards the ceiling, Elena's thoughts drifted to the previous evening's dinner. It had been a pleasant enough experience, in the sense that she had been seen by the entire Court the way she wished to be engraved in their memories: striking and regal. On the other hand, her intention of further observing Octavien all but failed as she was not only forced to deal with interminable greetings and protocols, but a very talkative Marquis. César de la Vallière proved to be depressingly young, infused by that “joie de vivre” common to noblemen who needed nothing else to do but gather the fruits of their forefathers' efforts. A young fop, but not an altogether useless one, for Elena had been able to slip a couple of subtle questions among their chatter, thus learning that he and Octavien had known eachother since boyhood, for example. So, this was not a recent friendship possibly wrought around the Prince's new title, but apparently a long-lasting one, adding to the foundation of Elena's growing opinion that Octavien was indeed not a disagreeable man, if he was able to keep friends for so long, another apparently being the Marquis' wife, with whom he conversed openly and congenially.

Elena rested her head on the smooth edge of the bath tub, a contemplative sigh escaping her lips; on either of her shoulders, Juanita's nimble fingers rubbed aromatic oils into her skin, draining the tension from her muscles.

“Has my wedding gown been unpacked?” Elena asked all of a sudden, tilting her head in the girl's direction. Much of her luggage still remained unpacked, the lavish gown tailored in Spain being one of them.

“Yes milady,” the Gypsy replied. “I brought it to the Palace tailor for final adjustments myself.”

Elena didn't respond, which signified she had no objections. Later on, as she was being helped into a gown featuring liberal amounts of black lace and gradient hues of blue and mauve, a new plan was already taking shape in her mind.

“There is something else too,” she told Juanita, who was fastening the lacing of her corset. “I need you to go around the Palace and find me a quiet spot where I may conduct a meeting with someone in privacy, yet public enough to avoid suspicion in case someone happens across it. Report to me in two hours.”

Once her maid had left, Elena wasted no time in summoning two Palace servants responsible with the furnishings of the many salons and suites that composed it, dictating the changes she wished to be made to her own chambers: for once, a definite change of the general pastel hues apparently favoured by the former Princess to the darker, richer colours Elena herself liked: crimson, amber, cinnabar, royal blue, deep purple and black being a few. Some of the furniture of course had to be replaced, and even some additions needed to be made, such as a proper desk. Elena intended to keep the original bed however, with only a change of sheets, covers and canopy and most of the decorations.

The following two hours were spent recording events in her diary and constructing a collection of letters received prior to her leave from Spain: these were not for her use, but someone else's, and Elena fully intended to claim the price for their trade that very same day. Folding them neatly into halves, she slid them into an envelope and sealed it shut. Later, when Juanita returned with her finds, her mistress was not disappointed: the only thing left was to choose between two secluded salons, a veranda that apparently most Courtiers avoided, the far end gardens and the Orangery. Elena wished to avoid having the said meeting within the Palace premises, all too aware that even the most inconspicuous rooms had walls with possible ears attached to them, thus dismissing those locations almost immediately. The gardens, although providing more space, were either too open, or left them vulnerable to eavesdroppers and had no viable way of knowing when someone was approaching until it was often too late. The Orangery seemed the best solution in this case: it was secluded and according to Juanita not altogether a popular location, especially at that time of the year, could easily be inspected for intruders and, once assured she was alone, Elena did not doubt there would be a place from where she could survey the entrance without being seen: such places had many windows to let natural light in for the plants' growth, and often good enough acoustics to be able to hear any unwelcome footsteps. Not to mention, leaves and branches would provide shelter.

Writing a simple note, Elena handed it to Juanita with the specification that it should be delivered to the hands of Comtesse Isabella Devine, and hers alone, as quickly and secretively as possible. The note read:

“Meet me at the Orangery, in one hour.

E.”



((ooc: Alissa -hope this works? Sorry about the delay, RL is kicking my butt. lol

ETA: The Berini thing sounds good to me, although this was Atropa's plot and she probably knows better

Atropa - I hope what I wrote about César is ok, I imagined Elena would have tried to slip a few questions about Octavien here and there, subtly of course



If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Scholar
#142 Old 5th Jul 2008 at 2:47 PM
Default Bella - Orangery - Waiting for Elena
(((OOC: It's all fine by me, Ghanima. I wasn't sure if Elena was already in the orangery, so I left that part open, so hope this works for you)))

A while had passed during which Bella blissfully lost herself between the covers of a book. Not fiction, however. She was no real fan of someone’s fantastical ramblings, save for a few truly inspirational works. No, she very much liked to remain in the world to which she was currently ordained, lest it change without anyone them noticing. What was the point of dwelling in a realm imprinted in pages of a book when there were far more intriguing things one was already embroiled in?

Thus, her decision to read An Essay to Revive the Ancient Education of Gentlewomen, a rather bold piece of literature to challenge exactly why men deserve full control of the world they lived in. She knew for a fact that Duchessa Natalina Pizerio, her Godmother of sorts, would relish this. Well, to be honest, the Duchessa had probably already read it and managed to write a dissertation on it. Of course, she’d advise that equality rewarded to women was not a topic to be declared among men, it was a conquest to be secretly attained. The Duchessa did like and indulge in more than her fair share of underhand tactics after all, and had somehow managed to mould Bella in her image.

Her thoughts interrupted by the sounds of knocking at her door, Bella simply cast a glance at Grace as the maid scurried over to the door, opening it to greet her visitor. Bella simply returned to her book, but was only embroiled in it for a moment longer before Grace rushed to her, flustered. And what exactly had been that unsettling?

“It’s her, my Lady,” Grace uttered, her voice hushed, almost wringing her hands. “The Spanish woman.”

Bella’s eyes widened for a moment. What?! She credited Elena with much more intelligence than to show up at her door!
"Her Excellency?!” she demanded of her main through complete incredulity.

“No, no,” Grace corrected. “The other one, my Lady. The… the maid.”

Bella almost laughed. During their time in Spain, Grace had served with Juanita. And hated every moment of it. Juanita had… disturbed Grace’s calm somewhat and Bella wasn’t particularly surprised; Juanita would be enough to disrupt the calm of a monk. Still, Grace had to toughen up and deal with things. She’d come into contact with Juanita a lot more now that both Elena and Bella were more or less permanently residing in the same court.

“She won’t bite you, Grace,” Bella calmly pointed out with an exasperated sigh. “What does she want?”

Apparently Juanita had something for Bella and would deliver it to her and her alone. Well, wasn’t that loyal? The Comtesse could only just fathom the amount of drive it must take to keep oneself tethered to Elena and not want to constantly pull at the chains. Then again, the workings of Juanita’s mind was beyond Bella, and possibly anyone’s, ability to understand. The girl was just completely and utterly strange. Coming face to face with her once more, Bella was starkly reminded of why she’d understood how Grace had been so unsettled. It was the look in Juanita’s eyes, a primal look of sorts that was always so threatening, as if there was a wild animal in there somewhere.

Dismissing the object of scrutiny, Bella finally opened the note, only to be utterly dismayed at the contents. Elena wanted a meeting. That wasn’t incredibly great news, but it wasn’t exactly surprising. What was surprising and borderline devestating was the fact that Her Excellency had managed to choose the one place Bella had grown to detest already during her short time here; the Orangery.

There was little sympathy to be gained from Grace, her maid of several years, over the matter, simply beacause Grace believed thoroughly that Bella was committing a grievous crime by spying on the Prince and went as far as to reiterate her belief as advice to Bella, cornering on the fact that being summoned to the Orangery was a sign and punishment of sorts.

“If I wanted ‘I told you so’s, Grace, I have the Holy Bible at my disposal,” she simply dismissed before placing the note somewhere safe. For insurance purposes.

With that, she simply made her way towards the Orangery, every step towards the blasted place prompting her more and more to turn back and run, to request that Elena pick some other place. But no. Then Elena would know there was something Bella had against the place and she’d probably see it – even something so trivial – as a sign of weakness. Further more, Bella was too interested in what news Elena had for her to delay the meeting any longer. She’d just have to deal with whatever feelings she had against the place in which they met.

Therefore, taking a deep breath, she pushed the doors open, cautiously venturing into the place, her eyes vigilant for any movement, both human and spider. For particularly disconcerting specimens of both species were due to join her here.

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#143 Old 5th Jul 2008 at 3:06 PM
(((ooc: Alissa - It's ok with me. Though do keep in mind that Berini's home is in Italy. Not that it matters a whole lot, but I'm a freak when it comes to details, so...

Ghanima - "A young fop". :laugh: César would have died, had he know! He thinks he's so very, very charming. *lol* And yeah, it's perfectly fine with me. César would have a tendency to run his mouth when talking to Elena, I think. Not in that he pours out all Octavien's secrets, or even any of them, but he would be far more open and unrestrained than Octavien is currently being. *nod* So yup, as long as she's subtle and seems to just be making conversation, I don't think César will clam up. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Top Secret Researcher
#144 Old 6th Jul 2008 at 4:47 PM
Larkin saw that Adele was watching him, not from any observance on his part but the sheer speed with which she replied, at the precise moment when it became acceptable to do so, which was when the letter went back into its envelope. Insofar as she had to have been waiting, or at least watching, this precisely acceptable timing lost said propriety. Larkin decided to be more amused than offended.

“I also had lovely time yesterday,” she replied, and by the time Larkin had turned to look at her again, he had fixed a slightly amused, but generally cheerful expression on his features. He imagined it to look slightly paternal. Her face had developed into a small smile, which belied her next words, “Although I wish I had stayed for a bit longer last night. Had I been thinking more clearly I would have eaten something before deciding to departure.”

Larkin didn't let his expression waver, but he was a man who enjoyed his food, and it took a lot more than an awkward conversation, bad seating, and a questionable dinner companion to displace him from said food. Especially since last night he had sensed none of this at least for his perspective. Adele's words had indicated she didn't think so either, but then again words are wind, and this was France. She sighed and shook her head, a sentiment Larkin most thoroughly agreed with.

Before he could offer to take her to the kitchens- it was too late to get a proper breakfast, but plenty early enough that there would be leftovers- she continued, with a definite pause in the middle, “I hope you didn’t mind me leaving so abruptly like that. Was everything alright after I left? There was no trouble, I assume.”

What a strange thing to ask... On the surface it seemed like a polite, but veiled apology for what was rather poor courtesy, but her tone made it seem honestly concerned. Was she actually worried about what he might think? Doubtful, as he had done his utmost best to seem nonthreatening. Asking specifically about trouble would imply she thought there had been some, had something occurred last night that one in the dining hall should have been aware of? Even more doubtful that, he had been there the whole time, and Ambrose would have cued him in on anything subtle. So maybe something she had planned? He could not help but le t a small smile creep onto his face, Larkin was usually a fair judge of character, and he did not think that Adele would have planned any "trouble." For sheerly logistical reasons, rather than any dearth of character, she seemed too shy to have set up any sort of complicated web.

She gave a small laugh at something or other, and her eyes sparkled most invitingly. Larkin let his grin stay on his features, it could do no harm despite having arrived before her laughter. "There was no trouble, and there were plenty of people in the hall, maybe you noticed? I merely had my repast with them. It would have been nice to have your company as well, but it is perfectly acceptable that you left."

A subtle enough rebuke, in that it wasn't really a rebuke. Merely a courteous reply that reassured her, assuming her insecurities from last night remained, that he did not object to her company, and that he was perfectly fine without it. A bit vain of her to think otherwise, but nonetheless, socially acceptable. As to not eating dinner, or getting a servant to fetch something to her room, that was rather stupid, in Larkin's opinion, given his connoisseur attitude, but again, harmless. "I actually missed breakfast this morning, although I suppose I can't complain. I had planned on going to the kitchens, to see if there were leftovers, I am sure that you would be perfectly welcome to come along."

Larkin was incredibly curious to see what she would make of that. One could tell a lot about a noble by how they regarded their social inferiors. Most held them at a polite distance, but the few that regarded their servants highly enough, and were in turn well regarded enough to be treated very well, were great rarities, usually scorned by their more elitist peers. Larkin did not reveal what import he held his servant's esteem in, but then again it was fairly obvious from his casually speaking of going to the kitchens that he at least was held in some esteem somewhere. He wondered curiously if she would over react, or even notice. If Larkin himself, and his friends from his younger days, were any indication young nobles as a group considered kitchen leftovers to be their personal buffet,and would think nothing of an older person continuing the same behavior they indulged in. Then again, Adele looked to be in her twenties, possibly too old to engage in such silliness, and definitely old enough to understand the ramifications- that he was a dodderer of some sort- of close ties to the lower classes.

The humor of a story on the internet is in direct inverse proportion to how accurate the reporting is.
Alchemist
Original Poster
#145 Old 6th Jul 2008 at 7:37 PM
Joséphine with César and Octavien - The Gardens --> The Lake meadow

A look of pure amusement found its way onto Joséphine's features as she observed César and Octavien resume their typical bickering within moments of seeing eachother, especially since she knew how many prim and proper noblemen and women would scoff at the disregard of courtesy shown both by a Marquis towards his Prince but a Prince in the presence of lower ranking courtiers. Let them scoff! Most of them had forgotten the simple pleasures of indulging in a bit of light-hearted conversation, or the comforting presence of a friend.

"Your Highness", César said and executed a polite yet stiff bow as she offered her own greetings, though the deference did not extend to his expression which held the usual amount of mischief and a smirk which was never far from his lips. Joséphine privately smirked as well, wondering how long would it take her husband to get used to being outranked by Octavien. After a lifetime of habit, that shift would certainly take a long time and much wit. "My", he added "You're looking mighty cheerful this morning." leading Joséphine to expect a subtle allusion towards Octavien's impeding marriage or the person of his bride, knowing he too was curious to know what he truly thought of Her Excellency.

He did not however get the chance, the Prince proving of quicker wit and delivered a speedy retort before César could add anything else:

"I have no choice, do I? For if I didn't, we'd all be made to listen to you whine about how I don't appreciate your company, or something equally melodramatic."

This time, Joséphine emitted a soft chuckle, peering amusedly at her husband who, for the moment, remained daunted. She knew César was generally regarded as the more outspoken of the two while Octavien had a reputation for a more demure character, but the role was often reversed whenever the two of them engaged in another round of friendly banter, not unlike César and herself did in private, though in a blunt, masculine, comradely way.

Octavien however maintained his temporary upper hand, immediately turning to Joséphine with a compliment:

"Joséphine, you're looking radiant as ever. Life at court agrees with you."

Inexplicably, the first thought to form in the Marquise's mind was an old saying which claimed that pregnant women were surrounded by a wholesome “glow”. Her mother was a particular believer in that tale, Joséphine having heard her whisper that men found her irresistible whenever she was with child. Considering her own suspicions which she had only recently confessed to César, Octavien's words affected her with the weight of a semi-premonition even as inwardly dismissed such silly notions.

“Thank you” she replied with a warm smile. “I think you are right, this is the kind of life one can easily become accustomed to. I fear I might not want to leave again!”

Conversing merrily, the group departed the Palace, the servants following at a respectful distance. The weather was cheerful and pleasantly warm, a bright sun shining down from an almost cloudless sky. They diverted from the main paths, wanting to find a quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle of palace life, where they would not be disturbed. The gardens housed a small lake nestled beneath a grove of weeping willows, but getting there required a decent stroll. Some fifteen minutes later, Joséphine caught the scent of fresh, moist turf in her nostrils and before long a most picturesque landscape emerged into view: bordered by well trimmed hedges on one side and a thick cluster of trees at the other, a gently sloping meadow filled their horizon, ending with the blue expanse of clear water surrounded by majestic willows, reeds, and bushes. No soul was in sight as far as the eye could see and tranquillity enveloped them.

Joséphine gave a long, peaceful sigh and gazed at her companions:

“Shall we find a spot near the water?”

((ooc: If any problems, shoot me a note :D))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
#146 Old 8th Jul 2008 at 6:08 PM
Default Adele and Larkin || The Blue Salon
Adele's blond curls fell past her small, delicate shoulders as she gazed towards the Baron. Her eyes studied his expression as she spoke, which was slightly cheerful - fatherly even. Yet as she continued on, he no longer seemed quite so chipper, but confused, which from Adele's perspective was understandable. She did not expect him to apprehend her reason for such unearthly questions she had been asking him. You see, Adele is the type of person to believe that something is to go wrong whenever she isn't present. An example would be when she left the Great Dining Room; she actually thought that something was going to go amiss, but clearly nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. Of course it was all in her head, but she couldn't help but feel on edge. The only reason she bothered to ask such questions was because she was extremely paranoid about it, and wanted to make sure nobody had done anything stupid.

Now she was not one to question another person's intelligence, she wasn't going to go about guessing someone's level of intelligence; not only was it quite rude, but most people including herself would find it offensive. She did not think anyone was thick-headed exactly, you could be the most intelligent person in the world and make a stupid mistake; it was not unheard of. She gave a quick glance towards the door, and then turned back to face the Baron. Why on earth was she becoming so paranoid?

There could only be one possible explanation for her strange paranoia - her father.

It seems as if her father is turning out to be the source of all her troubles, which is truly quite unfortunate. But how you ask? How does her father have to do with any of this? Well ever since she knew her father he was always a bit dense, and it seemed that every time she turned her back he went and did something completely insane. Of course this was not his fault. Not only was a quite old, but months after the death of her mother he used to go out a drink every night, leaving Adele with no one to talk to but the maid. He used the alcohol as a way to "numb the pain" and to keep him from feeling depressed, yet he would consume so much of it that he would become intoxicated, resulting in him making awfully poor choices. It appeared that every time Adele wasn't around he would do something stupid, which would explain her being so paranoid and all.

Yet she wasn't going to tell the Baron about her reasons for asking such odd questions for it would only lead into her personal life, and she had no intention of sharing it with anyone.

“There was no trouble, and there were plenty of people in the hall, maybe you noticed? I merely had my repast with them. It would have been nice to have your company as well, but it is perfectly acceptable that you left. I actually missed breakfast this morning, although I suppose I can’t complain. I had planned on going to the kitchens, to see if there were leftovers, I am sure that you would be perfectly welcome to come along."

Adele nodded her head and gave a quick smile, slowly rising from her seat. “Of course,” she said simply, and grabbed her book to get ready to leave. She found nothing wrong with getting leftovers in the kitchen, if you were hungry then why wouldn’t you? Although she had never bothered to do it before, she had no problem with asking if she could possibly have a bite to eat, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary. But if they refused to give her anything to eat, they would certainly be getting an earful. Adele was not a kind person when she was hungry, instead she would be grumpy and a bit of a pain. But most people have never seen that side of her for she ate often, in order to avoid such horrible behavior.
Alchemist
Original Poster
#147 Old 8th Jul 2008 at 7:23 PM
Elena and Bella - The Orangery

Not ten minutes after Elena had watched Juanita retreat from her suite bearing the note for Bella, a discreet knock on the door announced the girl's return. She knew it was Juanita by the sound of her knuckles against the wood, something she was extremely familiar with to the point where anyone attempting to imitate it would have had little chance of succeeding. Such details matter much to Elena, who jealously guarded her privacy and her domain and did not tolerate intruders.

“Enter” she called out tersely, slowly turning shifting her position to allow a clear view of the doorway. An instant later, it was drawn aside and Juanita's waif silhouette slid through the gap – she rarely opened a door in its entirety, and even her walking resembled sneaking movements more than anything else. The Gypsy was dressed in a clean Palace uniform, her long bushy hair tamed into a braid and hidden beneath a bonnet, but somehow managed to retain eerie animalism. One look at the rows of sharp, yellowish teeth a hungry grin revealed shattered the deception created by the ordinary clothes.

“It is done, Milady” Juanita said and drew in a hissing breath, exhibiting the usual fanatical pride at having successfully served her mistress, no matter how trivial the task was. Elena knew she could have just as easily sent the girl to murder Bella instead of giving her a letter and she would have obeyed with the same lack of hesitation.

“Good”, she told her and waved a hand “Go, spend the day as you will, I shall not require your presence until this evening.”

Once she was alone, Elena walked over to the lacquered table she was using as a temporary working desk and lifted the envelope she had assembled earlier. It contained various the correspondence received from several agents sent to comb the Earth for Baron Ashton Devine. So far they had been unable to find the man, but one possible trace of him had been encountered in Italy. Detailed itineraries, journey logs and anything they deemed relevant had also been recorded, in the hope that Bella might recognize hints of her father's presence anyone else might have missed. The letters were duplicates: before leaving Spain, she had dictated copies, keeping the originals for herself just in case the Comtesse decided to be...difficult. Not that she imagined any reason she would decide such a thing, considering it was very much in her advantage to keep benefiting from Elena's wealth and resources, but she liked to be prepared.

Elena did not await for the hour to elapse; instead she departed her suite immediately and spent the time left inspecting the Orangery. First of all she made sure it was indeed as deserted as she hoped, then looked around for a good vantage point from where she could notice anyone approaching in advance. She found it several meters away from the main entrance, partially hidden from view by two magnificent bushes of blooming roses that crept upwards, alternating with ivy vines. The leaves and flowers had been trimmed away from the windows which offered a clear view of the path leading inside and the gardens around it. Not long after, she could hear approaching footsteps followed by a first glimpse of none other than Isabella Devine herself. The woman walked briskly, glancing around herself with what Elena thought was a manner of apprehension. Interesting. Hopefully the girl had been careful enough to avoid being followed.

“So, Isabella Devine...or better said Comtesse Isabella Devine which I have been informed is the proper term to address you nowadays” she called out when Bella was within earshot but had yet to notice Elena leaning against the stone wall behind the cover of the rose bush, a slight smirk present on her lips. “I see fortune has favoured you since we last met.”

Or was it fortune? Naturally, Elena was interested in that story as well as the rest of the news Bella had better have for her.

((ooc: As always, if any problems, let me know, Alissa!))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Scholar
#148 Old 8th Jul 2008 at 9:13 PM
Default Bella and Elena - Orangery
(((OOC: Works fine for me, Ghanima. Also, hope what I had Bella say about Elena was okay? Seeing as they'd be keeping tabs on each other, I expect Bella to have some grasp of what Elena's like? But, if there are any problems, do let me know )))

“So, Isabella Devine...or better said Comtesse Isabella Devine which I have been informed is the proper term to address you nowadays,” called out a voice that Bella knew too well belonged to Elena. She’d been in the Orangery for all of half a minute before Her Excellency proved that she’d beaten her to it. In an hour’s time, then? It’d seem that both parties were rather impatient regarding the meeting and therefore had sought to get there first. Bella hoped that Elena had been as cautious as her, and also an inconspicuous, in getting to the Orangery. Elena, after all, was more likely to be followed than Bella. And thus, she was probably just as, if not more, careful. “I see fortune has favoured you since we last met.”

However, the suddenness of Elena’s presence had some what unsettled Bella even further than she already had been, the tightness in her slender shoulders creeping up almost instantly into her neck. She didn’t turn around immediately. She knew better than that, given the state of mind that she possessed. No, she needed to compose herself before taking on someone like Elena. Deep breaths and happy places found to ease herself and gain control before she slowly turned to face the other woman.

She hadn’t changed much in demeanour, then. Still the very same aura of superiority, of knowing better than everyone else, the air of untouchable greatness that hung around her like a second skin. Although, what really amused Bella was Elena’s dress. Dark and filled with black lace spreading out over the bodice like a midnight spider web. Well, wasn’t that fitting?

Studying Elena again once more as she had done upon their first meeting in Spain, Bella discovered the same things. Well, better safe than sorry, yes? First and foremost between the women was the simple similarity in the fact that both were the only children of influential men who refused to be controlled by anyone but the only women in their lives; their daughters. However, the contrast in the very same scenario was that Elena’s father hadn’t committed a crime and lost his title and was still very much renowned.

Outward appearance was somewhat a contrast too. Elena was so richly dark, an exotic beauty in every right, and revelling in every benefit it brought her. Of which Bella was sure there were plenty, for the King of France was hardly likely to simply agree to the match without Elena’s charms playing some part in it. The ravishing locks of dark hair, capturing black pearls that she had for eyes, and the confident tan of her skin were very unlikely to go unnoticed by any man with even a pathetic excuse for eyesight. Bella, on the other hand, was far more subtle. More than half-Italian, thanks to some recently perturbing parentage, she did enjoy it’s benefits; faintly olive complexion, though still golden, loose coils of dark chocolate hair and honey coloured eyes to match. Not quite the French ideal of fair hair and blue eyes, thus ever so slightly exotic, but still beautiful in her own right and, more importantly, passably French enough not to raise any uncomfortable questions. Though the rich and powerful ancestry of her father was rather well know, it was best not to cause deliberation upon the rather dubious origins of her mother, the late Duchesse Carmella Devine.

There was much, much more in realms of what Elena flaunted while Bella downplayed. The clothes Elena chose to wore were always of the finest fabrics, the most enviable designs and textures, taking every opportunity to display the affluence and influence she possessed. As a contrast again, Bella downplayed it. While her clothes were also the result of fine fabric investment, they were far more subtle. Still revelling herself in satin, silk, chiffon and whatever else struck her fancy, Bella was more than aware of the dangers of advertising the things one was not actually supposed to be able to afford. Though she was still very wealthy, her status previously as a Baroness would raise some questions as to how she was able to afford such luxury, which would lead the question of why the then Duc Devine had lost his title, but not his estates, and that in turn led to some topics that were best not ventured upon. So, the problem was solved by not raising the questions in the first place.

The same pattern seemed to follow the difference in countenance of both women. Elena behaved as if she already was royalty, which given her status in Spain, was more than justified. She always seemed to have about her airs and graces, that she was indeed better and therefore deserved respect, a way to command subconscious admiration in everyone around her. And it worked so well. Bella held more down to Earth charm, a sort of approachability that usually appealed to everyone to converse with her, to befriend her rather than worship her. Well, everyone except a certain Comtesse, but that woman probably had no time for anyone except herself and ‘darling Charles’.

Those outlined differences were only on the surface. Deep down inside, both women were probably more similar than either of them realised, otherwise there’d be little chance of a successful agreement between them. Granted, Elena was several steps more devious than Bella could possibly ever aspire to be, but the potential was probably there. With Elena, there was always a sort of dangerous vibe that she emitted, subliminally, the kind that enticed and drew you closer and closer like a moth to a flame. You knew that things could turn perilous any moment that she chose, but you were too wrapped up in her promises. With Bella, there were no such warning signals, just simple earthly appeal of human sincerity and affection. However, while Elena always carried about her that darkly beguiling light, what Bella possessed was a treacherous mask of virtue. Simply put, Elena was the equivalent a Siberian Tiger that you kept for its majestic nature and you knew it could tear you apart though you hoped genuinely that it didn’t, while Bella was a Persian cat that you kept close to you as a pet, pouring upon it affection and doting, not expecting the moment that it scratched you violently, the minor physical trauma the tip of the iceberg of the potential emotional hurt. It was never clear whose attack was worse, the Siberian’s or the Persian’s.

Perhaps that was why Elena had chosen to make use of Bella, because she knew the capability. Either way, though Bella had been most cautious to accept, she had only been too aware of the benefits. With her influence, Elena was much more likely to find her father’s whereabouts than Bella on her own could ever hope to achieve. Furthermore, Elena was to be the Princess of France, and hence her favour would be very advantageous. It was all well and good for Bella to be immediately related to Italian royalty, but when the only way to grandly acknowledge them would involve running the serious risk of exposing a rather insalubrious secret, it was best left as a last resort. Hence, Elena’s proposal had been somewhat of a godsend, but still very much a double edged sword.

Now. A deal is a deal is a deal. Once in, there was no way out and each participant came to hold enough ammunition over the other to keep the deal going unless one of the participants decide to do something inexplicably stupid. That participant was not likely to be Bella. She had too much to gain and too much to lose. Whatever twist Elena wished to put into her marriage to Octavien was no concern of Bella’s; it was their problem and they could handle it themselves the way she handled her problems by herself. Regardless of how pleasant Octavien seemed, her own agenda came first to Bella and she was sure he’d do the same thing in her shoes. After all, who wouldn’t? It wasn’t like she owed him anything.

So, right now, her loyalties lay with Elena, it’d been bought, but still it had to be paid for, thus it was currently somewhat a tentative loyalty.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Excellency,” she greeted cordially, a graceful curtsey to match the velvety quality of her voice. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

And you brought your Psycho Slave. I’m sure you feel at home already.

As for her commentary on Bella’s newfound title, well, didn’t news travel abnormally fast when you had someone at your beck and call, annealing to your whims and every desire with no questions asked? Was that what she wanted to turn Bella into? No chance. Now, best to dispel any ideas that Bella had simply found herself in luck and stumbled upon a title rather than having gone out of her way to make it easier for her to do Elena’s bidding.

“And we both know fortune favours those who help themselves,” she pointed out politely, her astute eyes reaching out to Elena, invoking the sense of shrewdness that both women knew the other to possess. Here, secluded in the Orangery, there was no need to indulge in pointless bouts of forced innocence. Now, she’d wait for Elena to commence business rather than instigate it herself, for she had to split her resources between fending off spider attacks and fending off Elena. And thus there was still that subtle tightness in her posture.

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#149 Old 9th Jul 2008 at 7:35 AM
Default Octavien, César and Joséphine - the lake
As a man widely known for his wit and his sharp tongue, among other things, César de la Valliére wasn't particularly fond of being rendered stumped. Not in the sense that he would be angry, offended or even annoyed when ever it happened, which wasn't very often, but in the sense that it would spark an immediate and pressing need to get back at whoever had stunned him. He was competitive, and always enjoyed a good fight, whether it involved words, brains or pure muscle, and so when ever he lost a battle, it would only fuel his desire for a re-match. Even more so when he wasn't even left the chance to throw himself and his opponent into one once he had regained his composure, which usually only took a few seconds at the most.

So then, when Octavien after his oh-so-clever comeback instantly turned to Joséphine, as a way of ensuring that the triumph of temporarily flattening César remained his, César silently vowed to himself that when the right opportunity presented itself, he would return the 'favor'. He didn't interject the moment his tongue was loosened from it's chains, nor did he give an indignated huff to show his displeasure of being robbed of the chance to retort. He simply flashed a faint, and slightly patronizing smile, as though Octavien's quick wit was somehow his merit, for teaching Octavien how to use it, and now going to himself 'Isn't that cute?', much like a mentor when challenged by his student.

Several times during the pleasant little walk to the lake - as suggested by Joséphine the previous night when the genius among the small group had hinted that Octavien's last day as a free man should somehow be celebrated - the chance for a comeback arose. Octavien was somewhat of an easy target, simply because César knew him so well, and so the chances to slip him a jesting remark were plentiful. But none of them were the right one. None of them provided that extra oomph that César wanted for this one. And so he waited, deciding to bide his time and in the meantime partake in the cheerful chatter as though he had forgotten all about his playfully vengeful streak (even though they all knew on some level that sooner or later it would pop out like some unpredictable jack-in-the-box). The right opportunity would come along. An opportunity that would allow him not only to get back with humor, but with a bit of an edge as well. Nothing hostile or uncalled for, but a gibe nonetheless, to match the one Octavien had given him.

Being in no particular hurry, as none of them had any plans other than treating themselves to a day of good company and leisure, they maintained a fairly slow pace, strolling casually along the neatly kept gravel path at first, only to abandon it when it turned and no longer lead towards the lake, in favour of the lush green grass with a myriad of colorful wild flowers scattered all about. When finally the shimmering surface of water basking in the bright sunlight came into view, they even stopped for a few seconds, to take in the panorama of nature's beauty. Still neatly maintained, but not nearly as 'organized' as the part of the gardens they had left behind. Here the trees and bushes had not been strategically planted to form a pattern or an aisle, and the lake was an actual lake, formed by the hands of Mother Nature herself, and not the brainchild of some landscape architect.

The first to break the brief silence, was Joséphine, with a soft breath easing it's way past her lips in the shape of a sigh filled with serenity.

"Shall we find a spot near the water?" she said, giving the two men a glance, to which they only nodded at first.

"How about there?" Octavien then suggested, pointing towards a small cove nearby the cluster of trees; a place in the sun, yet close enough to both water and natural shade, should they desire the sensation of either.

It was a suggestion to which both Joséphine and César agreed, and together the three of them descended the gentle slope, followed by the small army of servants, who once the lady and the gentlemen reached their intended desitation, swiftly spread out the blankets on the ground, and set up the parasols as to not allow the sun to tan the skins of the picnickers, nor spoil the food in the two baskets of provisions. When it was all done, Octavien offered a faint smile accompanied by a gracious 'thank you', and then sent them back to the Palace.

Alone at last, the three friends found themselves their favored spots on the blanket, and César poured them each a glass of wine, while Joséphine and Octavien helped take out and set up the dishes intended for their first meal.

"So...", Octavien said once it was all set up and they had begun digging into the plethora of bread, marmalade, cheese and all the other ingredients of a steady breakfast. "You met... my bride to be yesterday. What did you think of her?"

Knowing that his two friends were both intelligent and perceptive, and considering he himself had had a bit of trouble determining where Elena stood on most anything, he was eager to hear of their impressions and observations, hoping that perhaps they had noticed something he himself hadn't, that would help in establishing if his soon-to-be wife was friend, or foe.

And that was the moment César's need to strike back emerged from hiding, to rear it's ugly head.

"My friend", he said, and laid down, propping himself comfortably on one elbow, after discarding the somewhat restricting light moss green frock coat he had been wearing, and taking on a matter-of-factly tone. "I do believe you are truly doomed."

Pausing for a moment, to ensure that he had indeed gotten Octavien's full and rather concerned attention, the young Prince's sapphire eyes instantly flooding with dread of having his fears confirmed, César then continued.

"She is by all standards a great beauty, she is a highly skilled and entertaining conversationalist, possesses the most enviable qualities of refinement, sophistication and congeniality, and she is by no means old. Oh yes, what a hag."

Silent at first, his cheeks flushing slightly with disconcertion at having his own skepticism and distrust of people so bluntly stated to his face, Octavien shot a brief glance in Joséphine's general direction, as if to see whether or not she shared her husband's sarcastic sentiments. Then, he turned his gaze back to César, and a faint, calm and yet still somewhat embarrassed smile emerged on his lips.

"You think I'm being silly", he said softly, as though establishing a fact.

César's expression however remained serious, though where before only his words had revealed his sarcasm, his tone of voice now joined in;

"You are about to marry a woman who would make most men go green with envy, and all you can look for, are faults. No, why would I think you're being silly?"

This time, Octavien had no reply to give, and merely shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable at being faced with having to explain what he found impossible to put into words. It was a feeling, intangible and fuzzy, based on recent experiences which had tainted his tendency to put a little faith in people. Not trust exactly, but faith, as in not thinking that everyone harboured ulterior motives and was out to get him somehow. There really was no way to explain it in words that another was likely to understand. Especially not since half the story, if not more, was something he could not afford to let past his lips. He couldn't tell them about Isabella, or the true story of Marquess Berini's 'attempt' on his life. He couldn't tell them about Adalita's betrayal, without risking having to tell them they why's and the how's of his marriage to her, and he couldn't tell them about Baroness Flight's/Venn's/Whatever's threats against him. And so, he did the only thing he felt was safe, at the moment:
He remained silent.

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Alchemist
Original Poster
#150 Old 9th Jul 2008 at 9:30 PM
--Everyone, it is now Afternoon--


((ooc: Alissa - works perfectly, I agree with all you've written))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
 
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