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Original Poster
#126 Old 5th May 2008 at 2:05 PM
Roleplay Re-Formatting


New maps are up. There are some changes to the layouts on the Maps, but I hope you all understand.

Courtier Lists are up.

Money Lending has now changed. You can now have your application refused, granted in full or granted in part, so you may only recieve half the money asked for.

Offices are now Available business is now a part of the court, you ask the accountant and pay to open the business and aquire an office, in return you will recieve a daily profit, if you are commited to the roleplay in the end you'll make up your money and more.

Winning the game has changed any courtier can be granted the position, besides the Untouchables (and secondary characters of those RPers), regardless of title as long as they have access to the Rotherham Rooms and the De Mollier Offices. A character's title will however efefct how good your chance of appointment is however so they are by no means pointless.

Suggestions Larkin Larkin may now suggest to the King grants of access to the Rotherham Rooms for other Courtiers.

Suggestions Dimitri Dimitri may now suggest to the King grants of access to the De Mollier Offices for other Courtiers.

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

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

The Prince is granted cursory access to the King for the sake of Roleplay realism, he is not in an advisory position just a Royal Family Member.

Some of these grants will be made tomorrow morning with the morning announcements to the untouchables and other characters who cannot be made the advisor.
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Scholar
#127 Old 5th May 2008 at 3:44 PM
Quote: Originally posted by Seiza

slytherin-girl: I'd wish Charles Sr. was alive, just so he could saunter into Court and reveal all the silly things Dimitri did under his watch! Sadly, the dead don't talk. D':

And because I'm a dork, I've tried to calculate Charles' age when Dimitri would have joined the war in 1644: assuming I placed it correctly, he would've been around 26 and Dimitri was 15.
[/i]



Is it bad that I figured that as his age too? LOL *joins the dork club*

And you never know *grins* The dead don't talk but he might have told his wife some stories before he passed away. :haha:

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
Field Researcher
#128 Old 5th May 2008 at 4:23 PM
Default Dimitri & Charmaine - Red Salon
((OMFG WE HAF A CLOCK TOWER. SOMEONE MUST DIE AND HAUNT IT!! *PLOTZ*

And did I read that right? Charmaine is taking advantage of MY Duc’s gentlemanly manners? Damn women, so crafty!

slytherin-girl: O-HO! *evil grin* I shall most definitely KIV that.

Alissa: Did Christine arrive before the Duc, since she wasn't dripping wet from the storm that was raging (the rain was mentioned in Fay's post with Mercy)? Or maybe she arrived during the storm, changed and arrived after Jo's recital? Either way, it will help if you specify when she arrived, to make it easier for others to respond to her. ))


______

It was hard to tell that she wore a frown, so naturally did it shape her powdered face. Then the Englishwoman smiled at his guess, and the difference became obvious. Sometimes one only noticed a thing when it was no longer there: he now remembered the frown and some of the woman who owned it. Her smile was certainly not the bright and bushy-tailed sort, but it was pleasant in its own way; maybe satisfied, perhaps grateful. This was almost like a step-by-step replay of his first meeting with Lady Mollier—the same uncertainty, same guessing, same standing apart from the crowd—and it brought back a disconcerting torrent of memories of the party itself.

He knew the cousin of the Duc d’Mollier married an English noblewoman. The old Advisor’s reaction to it had been mixed—apparently its advantages outweighed any complaints, for the wedding carried on. Dimitri assumed that Lady Mollier’s family was diplomatically important to the two countries.

Sadly, he could not remember if said cousin had been French himself. But they were living in England all this while. Perhaps that was the end of that.

“Yes, that would be correct, Duke Lorraine,” she answered, pausing as he greeted her properly. Her hand lowered, and she continued primly, “How have you been, it has been such a long time since we met.”

Before he replied, their attention was turned to the far east side. They found the Marquise Mont-de-Marsan taking centre stage, her hands flowing smoothly over the keys. Although a vicious storm pelted the windows of the Red Salon, the glass muted its worst commotion, and the rain cloaked the room’s inhabitants in their own collective sphere. In such a bubble, the instrument’s melody and the Marquise’s soprano accompaniment coalesced into a brilliant, resounding finish.

It was something so different, yet steeped in familiarity. Dimitri thought it was only him who did not recognise the piece, being horribly tone deaf for the most part. But the rest of the room did not know how to react either, waiting for the next to follow in something bordering eager anticipation. It did not take long for people to realise it was over, and vigorous applause streamed forth from every corner of the Red Salon.

It was, surely, an excellent debut for the Marquise into Court.

Blanketed by the thunderous weather and similarly enthusiastic applause, the doors opened, and a cloaked figure entered the salon. Dimitri would have paid it little attention if not for the translucent sheen covering the heavy fabric. The thought seemed so ludicrous that it almost thought himself wrong—but had this courtier, whoever it was, just come straight from the rain?

This abnormality immediately sounded his mental alarm.

But the figure—he could make out long dark hair, but it was the shape that pointed to it being female—did not seem in any hurry. It stood at the entrance, not rushing around for someone in charge. And, surely, if there was any trouble, wouldn’t the first person to find be the royal guard?

As the applause dwindled, the cloaked arrival appeared in no apparent trouble. In any case, Dimitri had his own problems to handle. He finished his applause, suggesting that they take a seat by the window. It was not very private: card tables and seats filled the salon; he recognised the Comtesse de Valois’ signature curls off to the side. But at least it would be cooler. It seemed he would have to stay—every English word was like a kick in the gut, but he could not abandon the woman, and he was curious why she was here.

Best to do it comfortably.

“I am fairly well, all things considered. The Princess would not wish us to linger on her death,” Dimitri continued in English, carefully. He did not know how much she knew; could she have come to give Edouard her condolences? “I apologise for not recognising my Lady immediately, the party was indeed quite long ago.” But he certainly wouldn’t leave her thinking she’d been forgotten completely, continuing meaningfully, “I hope your garden is doing well.”

Had he dared to give the lady advice on her garden? It would have been so embarrassing, so little did he know of horticulture. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d forced himself to forget the episode.

“What about you, Lady Mollier? I recall you declared that only the world’s end would have brought you to France.”

______

((Alissa: [EDIT] No prob! I'll change Dimitri's post a little to show that Christine just arrived. There's no way he'd NOT notice a half-drenched girl entering the Salon. ))
Scholar
#129 Old 5th May 2008 at 4:49 PM
(OOC: Jeez, I completely missed that *facepalm* thanks, Seiza! I corrected it so that she is actually - well, almost - drenched when she walks into the salon - I was going to have her use an umbrella, but the history of it was just convoluted.... they did have umbrella's by the way, if anyone wants to know. Men just didn't want to use them because it was essentially women's fashion accessory. Sorry, spam)

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Original Poster
#130 Old 5th May 2008 at 5:06 PM
((Naturally the Juliet, Charmaine mentions is NOT the queen's mother, i just happened to have drawn up a family tree for the Queen after this Character's whole family were planned and inadvertantly used the name in both.))

Before the Duke had a chance to give any reply to her the rooms attention was commanded, by some young woman whom was unkown to her but seemly not so to the rest of the room, she played some terrible song that was as of an unknown to Charmaine as she herself. She however did not mention it, she simply waited for the attention seeking to cease and her companion to talk once more, being a Lady, despite her dislike of the song and its conductor she applauded with a bright smile.

He apologised for not have recognised her earlier which she was pleased about and made a gardening reference. Followed by questioning her presense in France.

"My garden remains in a good state of health, thankfully my little sister, Juliet, is at home keeping a watch over things whilst I took a much needed trip away, I must say I have enjoyed it more than the trip on which I met my husband. As for what brings me here, my husband took a hunting trip up in Scotland with my Brother and Brother-in-law. So I decided to try and find the more enjoyable side of his homeland."

Charmaine was a unusual addition to the Palace of Light and Air as she actually had nothing to hide, nothing that was excpet the less desirable decide of her character.
#131 Old 5th May 2008 at 6:39 PM
Heyy guys!
I'm really sorry about dissappearing so suddenly *s*

I've been in and out of hospital for a couple of weeks and then recovering. Nothing too serious luckily, appendicitis, but I haven't been able to get on to here at all, which has, sadly, been one of the things I've actually been looking forward to xP (As by now is obvious by now ... funheart = no life). :stick:

I'll try and get a post up at some stage tonight I think I'll have to think of a family issue Roseline has had to run off to, but I think I've got a bit of reading to do first, I've missed a bit

Anywaays .. boo! And, I'm off too get writing :comp:

Niamh
Original Poster
#132 Old 5th May 2008 at 6:49 PM
((Your back! Yay! *Has urge to throw parade* It's nice to know nothing is seriously wrong I'll edit the maps soon and have Roseline's suite issued to her once again, can you please repost your application in the new thread for me funheart? As you have probably noticed with shenan gone, I'm now hosting and I feel it'll be easier for new comers if we are all in one place.))
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retired moderator
#133 Old 5th May 2008 at 6:54 PM
Default César & others - Red Salon
(((ooc: funheart - I said it in PM, but I'll say it here as well; YEY! :D)))


Perhaps it had been unfair an inconsiderate of him, to suggest that Joséphine would make herself the center of attention by playing something? And by doing it infront of everyone, too, thus not leaving her much choice, as any refusal, no matter how eloquent, could be percieved as insecurity rearing it's ugly head. But thoughtless or no, César couldn't help it. A plan had formed in his head, born from the events the previous night, and the conversation he and Joséphine had had about it just a little while ago. And he was so very proud of her. She had a talent for playing the harpsichord and for singing, that would put most other women to shame, and he couldn't help but to want others to see it as well. Some would call it boasting, perhaps, but so what? What was the harm, when one really had something to boast about? It wasn't as though it was unjustified, now was it?
Not when the majority of the courtiers present sat listening in admiring silence, unlike earlier, when the two sisters had been performing and the others had merrily prattled on and on. He could see it on their faces, when he allowed his gaze to wander the room. They were enjoying the recital, very much.

Being what he was - a man with a tendency to appreciate the beauty of women - he also took the opportunity of Joséphine's turned back to seek out a certain someone whom he had seen enter earlier, but made as much of an effort to avoid, as she herself had made to avoid him in turn. The young blonde that had piqued his interest, not with beauty alone, but with a quite frisky personality to match. Comtesse de Valois. However, as they had both made a point of avoiding eye contact, achieving it now proved somewhat difficult, and it took a few casual glances before their gazes finally locked over the tables and the shoulder of Marie-Elisabeth's opponent. And once they did, it was only for the briefest of moments, no longer than it took for her to offer a faint smile and for him to quirk a suggestive brow. Then the moment had passed. Marie-Elisabeth's attention returned to the game she was playing (both of them), and César's returned to Joséphine. She had just finished playing and within a few seconds, once the last note had faded away, the room erupted in applause.

But, that was all. The question César had anticipated would follow, did not.
Imbeciles! They all enjoyed the performance alright, but no one bothered to ask who was the composer, even though it was clear to see that no one knew. What lack of social competence! No wonder they didn't have the manners to show proper courtesy towards their Prince last night! They obviously didn't know how!

Though no matter how annoyed he was with them, César still managed to keep a straight face, and welcomed Joséphine back to the table by taking a few steps towards her as she approached, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips, all the while donning a content smile, and eyes beaming with pride.

"Mon Dieu, I do believe you improve perfection itself every time", he said, and then gave her a light kiss on the lips as well.

It was only then, that one of the men at their table, who had risen along with the rest to praise the young Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, had an epiphany;

"It was a marvelous recital indeed", he complimented Joséphine. "I've never heard such a voice before, nor such a musical piece. Tell me, is it your own?"



(((ooc: Ghanima - Hope that works for you? If you had other plans, let me know, and I'll change it.)))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Scholar
#134 Old 5th May 2008 at 9:58 PM
Christine peeled off the cloak from her shoulders to find that her person was not greatly affected by the rain at all; the cloak had faithfully taken most of the abuse. Still, Christine didn't mind the rain. She simply placed the cloak by the stand, mentally noting that she would soon have to make her way to her chambers in order to change clothes.

The majority of her was dry, however, save for her hair and hands. The strands of hair had begun to adhere to the cold skin of her chest, peeling away reluctantly as she pried them off with little concern over the matter.

Christine glanced up to review the room and all it's inhabitants. A man and a woman stood speaking to each other intimately while another small group sat by a table apparently playing cards. Her eyes eventually wandered to meet those of a man who'd watched her odd entrance into the salon. He sat with a woman whose back was turned to her, embroiled in conversation. Christine simply gave him a brief ambiguous smile of acknowledgement before continuing to walk into the salon.

(OOC: Lol, thanks Seiza. I know Dimitri went back to his conversation with Charmaine after Christine stumbled in from the rain, but I thought she'd at least smile at nobles to avoid getting off on the wrong foot. Approachable.)

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Alchemist
#135 Old 5th May 2008 at 10:21 PM
César, Joséphine and the rest - the Red Salon

Throughout the duration of her performance, little else but the task at hand had intruded into Joséphine's concentration, so hellbent was she on getting every note right, every sound as smooth as she could. It wasn't every day that she played before a royal court, and even fewer occasions when that happened to be the first time she did so. She had the natural ease that came with practice on her side, but the the environment provided many reasons for anxiety: several dozen pairs of eyes and ears all centred on her, some awaiting entertainment while others no doubt looking for an amusing failure. A lady of high society herself, the Marquise was well aware of the less pleasant thoughts that lured beneath those benign, smiling faces.

After some five minutes, which somehow felt much longer to Joséphine, it was over. Reviewing it swiftly in her mind, the young Marquise figured all had sounded as good as it ever would, played by her fingers and sung by her lips. Her senses were rapidly returning, informing her of a rampant round of applause which came from the audience as well as the heavy rainstorm assailing the windows. Cheeks flushed with excitement and feeling oddly weightless, Joséphine got to her feet as gracefully as she could manage considering the wobble in her knees. Inhaling deeply she flowed up and down in a flurry of pink fabric, a token of gratitude for the ovations received, privately far more grateful for the fact that she could finally leave the stage and rejoin César and their companions at the table.

"Mon Dieu, I do believe you improve perfection itself every time", her husband said and kissed her knuckles as well as her lips; Joséphine's frantic pulse was beginning to slow down to a normal rate. She spread smiles and thank you's to those who approached to congratulate her, for the first time feeling something nearing pride. It had gone well, as good as anyone could expect it to. For certain, if she gazed beyond the immediate picture, a few of the courtiers held something other than admiration in their glances -no doubt thinking her vain and attention-seeking, or were just plain envious – but that was to be expected. Determined not to let those few spoil her boosted mood, Joséphine turned her head away from them and back at their table.

"It was a marvellous recital indeed", one of the men sitting next to her said. "I've never heard such a voice before, nor such a musical piece. Tell me, is it your own?"

Focused on delivering a good performance, Joséphine had all but forgotten the hidden reason for it. She blinked twice as she recollected her thoughts; he had been the only one to ask, which meant it was perhaps her only opportunity to bring hers and César's small plan to fruition.

“You do me great honour, Comte,” she replied. “I am pleased you've found it to your liking. I cannot take credit for the composition of the piece however; that belongs entirely to our Prince, Octavien Lahance. Music is perhaps one of his Majesty's lesser known talents, but I am confident that, given time, each of them will make themselves known.”

It was hint, of the subtlest kind should one be perceptive enough to grasp it: it spoke clearly in Octavien's favour, and of his many skills that the Court so stubbornly refused to acknowledge, or allow the young Prince to prove he had them. At the same time, one could not make it out to be more than polite praising of the composer who had earned it.

((ooc: It was perfect, Atropa Since I won't be home tomorrow again, I wanted to get this reply in. Feel free to speak to Jo, I'll reply asap.))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#136 Old 5th May 2008 at 11:01 PM
Default Octavien
With high noon having both come and gone, the sun had now begun it's slow descent. Accompanying it, was Prince Octavien. Though while one was descending the cloudy, rainy winter sky, the other was merely descending the polished marble steps connecting the upper, royal floor, with the ground one. Evening was still a few good hours away, and after recieving that not-so-gentle push by Gilles, Octavien had decided to make the remainder of the day count for something. Deep down, he was a friendly and open young man, who loved to socialize, and he'd be damned if he would allow that to change just because of a few, albeit sizeable set backs.

Reaching the ground floor, he stopped for a moment, looking around the almost intimidatingly large Palace entrance with it's connecting hallways, realizing that for some reason, it all seemed rather deserted. There were, of course, people there; servants going about their various chores, and a few courtiers milling about. But it was still considerably more quiet than usual.
The reason, it would seem, was that there appeared to be some event going on in the Red Salon. The sound of laughter and the soft murmur of a multitude of voices drifting from the open doors, made it sound as though the majority of the nobles in this court had gathered there to pass the time, doing what most courtiers did best; enjoy themselves.

Octavien started making his way over there, but came to a slow halt after only a few steps. His eyes had landed on the doors leading into the Grand Ballroom, and it was as though they were pulling him towards them, enticing him with fragmented memories of events that were so recent, yet lately had felt so very, very distant. Memories of the masquerade ball. If the forest encounter with Isabella had created the path of his future, the... encounter at the night of the ball was what had set everything in motion to follow it.

He simply couldn't resist stealing a moment to himself in there, to reminisce, to linger for a while in the memories of that carefree evening, and to draw strength from it.
For strength, it would seem, he would need in abudance.

Starting again, firm and purposeful steps carried him over to the doors to the Grand Ballroom, and he pushed them open without another moment of hesitation. Despite their considerable size, they only gave a soft moan as they drifted apart, granting him access to the once light and festively decorated ballroom, now hardly even dimly lit by the sun that struggled to pierce through the dark and heavy clouds outside. Though it mattered little to Octavien, as the room itself conjured the memories of what it had looked like then, as he slowly loitered along the walls, viewing the various paintings hanging there, but hardly seeing them at all. His mind was elsewhere.


(((ooc: Approachable. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Scholar
#137 Old 5th May 2008 at 11:25 PM
Default Bella and Octavien
Bella turned at the sound of heavy doors being pried open. It was a soft sound, but the closeness of it source to where she was alerted her to it. She knew all the other courtiers were elsewhere now, sheltering from the raging storm in a social hub somewhere. She'd chosen not to join them in order to see to a more pressing matters. Now, however, Bella was at a loss of things to do and there really was no-one around to find. Thus, the sound was a welcome distraction.

The light from the window fell over her, distorted by the water at flowed down the panes, becoming an accomplished art of their own. They seemed intent on branching out into as many rivulets as they possibly could achieve. In almost a mocking fashion, the question of whether or not to venture near it ran briefly across Bella's mind in one single stroke. She was alone, watching the storm and in all honesty, bored. On the other hand, she was alone. Bella decided there was no harm in indulging in simple curiosity every once in a while.

She stepped away slowly from the window, pushing against the sill softly to allow her light form to turn to the direction of the sound. She glanced back fleetingly through the glass, at the sight that had provided a constant source of entertainment, allowing her to lapse into a river of though as she absently watched the pouring rain and relentless winds. Bella began to walk leisurely towards the source, letting her fingers interlace, weaving in and out of each other as she wondered who she was just about to meet. Her curiosity led her to the Grand Ballroom, where Bella stepped back momentarily to admire the effort and attention that had been lavished onto the intricate carvings bestowed upon the grand wooden doors.

They were heavy indeed, as Bella discovered uoon exertion to push them open. The room inside was beautiful, to say the least, grand and decorated, yet deserted but for a lone figure of a man stood almost at one with the walls. It was a darkly lit room, somehow turning all it's glorious beauty into something haunting. Bella turned her attentions to the man who currently occupied it. His blond hair was tied back with a ribbon, revealing a youthful face leading to a lean form emphasising, and yet somewhat uncomfortable in, grand regal attire.

"Forgive me for my intrusion," Bella called politely, her voice drifting in delicately through the vast space of the room. She'd taken to employing caution, just in case she'd trampled upon some poor soul's time of solace. Given her encounters with Marie-Elisabeth and Larkin, she wasn't up to taking any chances. "I was simply curious at finding another wandering soul as myself. I am Baroness Isabella Devine."

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Top Secret Researcher
#138 Old 6th May 2008 at 12:38 AM
Larkin was rather dismayed- but impressed- when Marie Elisabeth laid out a full hand of kings. She grinned and said, "Well Baron, it does appear that the game is true to life this round. The great Kings have trumped everyone else."

He gave a grudging nod and neatly stacked his cards and set them aside. She, meanwhile, was delicately picking up the money from the table- his 70, and whatever the other two gentleman had anted. They made thier excuses and departed, giving Larkin no small cause for amusement. This was the court of France! Who cared about a few livres here and there? Larkin most assuredly did not, but he was not quite so thriftless as to plan to request another game.

The Comtesse had finished organizing her money and taken back the cards, to shuffle them back into the deck. Obviously they weren't playing again- it was the height of rudeness to start on a fresh deck with no reason or warning. Or maybe just another English custom he didn't differentiate between. It was probably going to be a bit difficult that the only gambling customs he knew were English. She confirmed that it was a matter of custom- at least he hoped it was custom and she was not intentionally being rude- when she said, "It appears we've been deserted Monsieur. Why don't you tell me about your time abroad? You must have some interesting stories to tell. Or we could play something else if you like, I don't mind either way".

He gave a polite smile and was about to speak a bit of the landscape in Zimbabwe- nearly every anecdote that popped into his head was not fit for mixed company, nor for ears that might not be appreciative of witty foreigners. Other than the English ambassador, the Portugese one had been amusing, and the Spanish one was... noteworthy. Then again, though no one had informed him of poor relations between France and Spain or Portugal, that was no reason to assume there were none. Just before he was about to affectionately describe a coastal village with imported orange trees, a woman from another table got up and walked over onto a small dais on the other side of the room. It had several instruments on it and the woman seated herself near the harpsichord and proceeded to play some enchanting peace, complete with vocal song. Larkin, having not heard any properly performed music from his homeland in years, was thoroughly impressed and much pleased to listen raptly, even at the expense of his companion. He didn't recognize the peice, but then again, he had been gone for 13 years.

Once the perfectly elegant peice had petered off, Larkin applauded politely and turned back to Marie-Elisabeth. Meticulous courtesy was probably the best way to go now, given that he had effectively been ignoring her for the past five minutes. "Apologies Mademoiselle, it has been a while since I've had the pleasure of listening to proper music, on proper instruments. I've been in Zimbabwe for, oh it must be thirteen years. Music was nice enough, I suppose, but it does not compare with anything French. Anything at all."

He gave a small grin to her, Larkin felt he'd handled that well. Answered her original question and pretty effectively explained his long silence after her question- if not perfectly honestly. He had been listening to and much enjoying the music, but while doing so he had prepared several carefully edited tales of the African continent, perfectly appropriate for any company, and much less dull than the insipid coastline with oranges he had originally had.

((OOC: Sorry that that took so long, my computer is leading an organized insurrection, complete with fire cannons. Don't ask. Is under control now. And highly exagerated in the first place))

The humor of a story on the internet is in direct inverse proportion to how accurate the reporting is.
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retired moderator
#139 Old 6th May 2008 at 1:01 AM
Default Octavien & Isabella - Grand Ballroom
(((ooc: Just for the record; Octavien has always been a snappy dresser. Family's been untitled, but very, very, wealthy nontheless. And he's grown up hanging out with nobles, so... Yeah. Lavish attire doesn't bother him.
I'm not critisizing, I'm merely commenting. You are free to have Bella percieve him any way you'd like. And, I do suppose recent events have made him somewhat uncomfortable, in general, so it still works. *nod*)))



Faint notes of music were ringing distantly in his ears, a waltz long forgotten by others, but dearly remembered by him. He recalled every word spoken, ever step taken, and most of all, every look and every touch given. Their eyes had always been his and Isabella's number one weapon against people that tended to put their noses where they didn't belong, a part of the facade hiding their true thoughts and feelings to anyone but themselves, and at the same time, part of their ever enticing game of subtleties. He remembered how on the evening of the ball, his boldness in pursuing Isabella, had been suddenly been matched by her own, as she had invited him to navigate the maze with her. Both of them knowing it had just been an excuse to talk in private, away from all prying eyes.
His main concern then, had been not to step out of line with her, not take liberties larger than she was willing to grant him, and not offend her.
How very ironic that all seemed now...

"Forgive me for my intrusion."

The sudden sound of a voice, the soft call of a woman, instantly shattered the scenes of an evening passed that were playing out in Octavien's mind, and caused him to flinch slightly with surprise. He had been so deep in thought, he hadn't even heard the doors open once again. In fact, he hadn't even heard them close in the first place.

Turning from looking at the painting on the wall where he was standing, his eyes gaze landed on a young woman, a beautiful brunette with big doe eyes, looking right back at him.

"I was simply curious at finding another wandering soul as myself", she said apologetically, before moving on to introduce herself; "I am Baroness Isabella Devine."

Isabella...?
For a moment, Octavien's brows furrowed in slight confusion, as though he thought he'd heard her wrong, that he was imagining things. Was she teasing him?
No... How could she be? No one at court knew of the relationship between him and Isabella, except Gilles. And, of course, Baroness Flight. But Gilles would rather suffer death, or a fate worse than death, than speak even one syllable of betrayal. And Baroness Flight... Deceitful and treacherous though she may be, Octavien still doubted she would go back on her word, and reveal the secret she had promised to keep. She seemed to be a woman of her word.
But then again, he'd been wrong before...

However, looking at the young woman, this... Isabella Devine, there was indeed nothing impish about her, at the moment at least, and so it seemed that she was being perfectly sincere.

Furthermore, as he didn't recognize her, it would seem that she was among the new arrivals. It would explain why she seemed unaware of who he was. Not that his looks were somehow widely known through paintings or the like, but most of the courtiers currently at court had attended the wed... his wedding, and thus would consequently recognize him as the groom. And those that had arrived after the wedding had taken place, would have most likely been in the Blue Salon the previous evening, where his identity had hardly remained a mystery either.

"No need to apologize, Baroness", he greeted her, offering a small but soft smile in return, deciding that a friendly start would hopefully be a good start. "I did not come here seeking solitude. You are interrupting nothing."

Having said that, he inclined his head ever so slightly while introducing himself in turn;

"Octavien Lahance", he said, purposefully leaving out his title, just to see if the name would ring a bell.

If it did, a title would be unnecessary, and if it didn't; unwanted. If she didn't know he was the Prince and he made a point to inform her, he would only risk embarrassing her, and any chance of having a somewhat normal conversation for once, would be ruined. Besides, pretending not to register someone else's mistakes in situations such as this one, was simply the most gracious thing to do.



(((ooc: Sorry if it's messy and weird. Dead tired. :/ )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Scholar
#140 Old 6th May 2008 at 1:10 AM
Default Marie-Elisabeth et Larkin - Salon Rouge
Marie-Elisabeth had found her attention stolen by the performance as well, so she didn’t mind the fact that Larkin’s appeared to be as well. She had to admit, though grudgingly, that the Marquise’s playing was excellent.

Music had never been one of her strong suits. She may as well have been trying to play the instruments with her feet for all the success she had at it. Piano, harp, violin, there wasn't an instrument that hadn;t suffered from her attempts at making music. Card playing she could do easily. Painting…well she was miles away from someone like DaVinci. But she was good enough. Dancing was probably her greatest talent, even more so than gambling. She had often been complimented on it and her graceful walk that was a natural result of such skills. Even her mother had called her into service to perform dances at the weddings of her siblings. But music continued to prove elusive to her, and she enjoyed listening to those who had the talent to do it.

“Quite allright” she said, turning back to Larkin and gesturing in the Marquise’s direction “She appears to be quite the talented musician, I understand the distraction”. Then she quirked an eyebrow and looked at him inquisitively. “Zimbabwe? Really? Well of all the places to be, you ended up in one of the only ones that could beat the English in terms of barbarianism. How on earth did you end up there?”

(((OOC: Tis ok, I understand how annoying computers can be )))

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
Top Secret Researcher
#141 Old 6th May 2008 at 2:29 AM
Larkin was relieved to note that Marie-Elisabeth had been just as entranced by the music as he was. “She appears to be quite the talented musician, I understand the distraction”. she said cheerfully. Awkwardness thus excused, Larkin was prepared to attempt to find out who the musician was, and possibly inquire as to the song she had played, or music in general from his absence.

Alas an intellectual and probably useful discussion of music was forestalled when she asked, “Zimbabwe? Really? Well of all the places to be, you ended up in one of the only ones that could beat the English in terms of barbarianism. How on earth did you end up there?”

Larkin smiled pleasantly, if he could not find out anything useful himself he could put his own information out- pleasant though the total anonymity he had at court was, it probably was not prudent to maintain it. Then again judging that after less than a day was also not wise. He decided not to think about it, there was no polite way to evade the question or good reason to try. "My interest in my barony was a bit slim once I inherited it, so I wound up as trade ambassador to Zimbabwe. Undoubtedly a barbaric place, but nice enough once you get over the language difference. Quite jarring, it makes English sound attractive, if that's even possible!"

((OOC: Bleh, that was lame, couldn't think of anything else to say though. And I am off for the night.))

The humor of a story on the internet is in direct inverse proportion to how accurate the reporting is.
Field Researcher
#142 Old 6th May 2008 at 3:21 AM
Default Dimitri & Charmaine - Red Salon
Whether a woman hailed from the Continent or not, the same nuances peppered all their words, which a husband only ignored to his detriment; but that other men remained blissfully unaware of. Lady Mollier took it to a whole new level—Dimitri was fairly certain of how she felt about her husband’s hunting trip, for her tone was spiced generously with disapproval. It was not a mistake made by a youngling; she simply didn’t care to hide it.

Her candid answer was, itself, very interesting. If the Duc d’Mollier had been alive, he may have ordered Dimitri to dig further into her husband-wife relations.

But the old Advisor—bless him—was dead and silent, and Dimitri would not throw himself into that most sordid abyss. He focused on a safer, more useful topic: her trip and her family.

“In terms of the weather, my Lady picked an appropriate time to visit.” The storm raging outside was almost ironic in lieu of his words. His gaze would travel occassionally to the window, wondering if Rukov had reached the town in time. “Most days are becoming more pleasant, since winter is almost at an end. I believe the first operas open with spring.”

Someone finally arrived with the cognac, the entire room having come to a stop before the Marquise’s performance. He could hear murmured congratulations being given behind him, as well as Florence’s recognisable voice bombarding the Marquise for details. The Marquise de Magenta was a connoisseur of many arts. If she could be this animated by the performance, it meant the recital had indeed been different, unexpected, but interesting.

If Lady Mollier showed any interest in opera, perhaps he could introduce them.

“Did you arrive alone?” Dimitri continued. It seemed rather disturbing for the noblewoman to travel so far alone. Surely a sister should have accompanied her, or a brother… “Your brother… my apologies, is that not Lord Simon?”

______

((Alissa: If Christine's bold enough, she can try to enter Dimitri and Charmaine's conversation, since she noticed that he noticed her. Am leaving the option open since, if I'm correct, everyone in the salon is engaged in conversation in some way.))
Scholar
#143 Old 6th May 2008 at 4:31 AM
Default Marie-Elisabeth et Larkin - Salon Rouge
“Quite jarring, it makes English sound attractive, if that's even possible”

Marie-Elisabeth laughed at that, looking at him incredulously. “Makes English sound attractive? My goodness, it must be a greater relief than I thought to be back here. Though it must be interesting to visit such an…exotic place”.

She then reached up and started fiddling with her locket with one of her hands, the other still resting on the table. “My son is always talking about wanting to go off to exotic places and fight great battles like his father. But I keep telling him he’s got to at least wait until his age reaches double digits before he goes charging off to war”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled and glanced around the room briefly, wanting to see if César happened to be looking in her direction again. She really was enjoying this interesting little game they were playing, even if the playing of it had been less direct than she would have preferred as of late. But he wasn’t looking at her, so she turned back to Larkin. It had occurred to her that she hadn’t even told him who the she was that had performed, and despite being on less than pleasant terms with said Marquise it was only polite to do so.

“Where are my manners, I forgot to give you the name of the lovely harpsichordist” she said, gesturing over to where Joséphine was standing. “That’s Joséphine de la Vallière, the Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan. She’s standing just over there with her husband César, the Marquis”.



(((OOC: Don't worry Furry, sounded fine to me. Mine's probably just as bleah LOL)))

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
Original Poster
#144 Old 6th May 2008 at 7:14 AM
“In terms of the weather, my Lady picked an appropriate time to visit.” The storm raging outside was almost ironic in lieu of his words. His gaze would travel occassionally to the window, wondering if Rukov had reached the town in time. “Most days are becoming more pleasant, since winter is almost at an end. I believe the first operas open with spring.”

"Actually I shall admit to quite enjoying weather like this, and if one was feeling particularly poetic one could say that spring is opening with the first opera." Charmaine waved a hand to indicate the weather was the opera, and smiled, she truely did like storms, so strong and distructive but in the end leaving us all calm and contemplative, which was a truely nice feeling to have as long as nothing you owned had beeen destroyed. She doubted the Duke however shared these feelings he seemed far too cool and calaculating to think of anything but damage control, however being a man that was his area of expertise.

“Did you arrive alone?” Dimitri continued. It seemed rather disturbing for the noblewoman to travel so far alone. Surely a sister should have accompanied her, or a brother… “Your brother… my apologies, is that not Lord Simon?”

Charmiane thoguht hard before answering the man made a sensible point as had the others who had brought it up, they had eben few but she now knew she should have been travelling with an accomplise. "Alas i did, my dear younger sister is with child and so is not travelling, hense she is watching over my house, my husband is in scotland." She said this with a little less disapproval this time, her anger was ebbing. "I have not seen my elder sister in sometime," and as for her brother, the irritatingly good Lord Simon... what was his reason for leaving his second sister to wonder the continent alone? "and my dear brother would never desert the family house, after all he may be needed and so Lord Venn remains at home also."

((Hehe, I thought it may have been a little obvious to be honest, but really the only person the family was ever discussed with was Baroness Taylor :P))
Scholar
#145 Old 6th May 2008 at 10:39 AM
Default Bella and Octavien - Grand Ballroom/Dimitri, Charmaine and Christine - La Salon Rouge
(OOC: Ah, that's all good then. Frankly, I thought he felt uncomfortable because of Dimitri and the King pressing him into the marriage with Elena. I mean, he was in the hall pining for Isabella, so I figured he'd be somewhat... dejected. I RP'd so that Bella didn't initially know who he was and then snapped onto it. I was wondering, because she'd know who the new prince was by name at least, but she'd been travelling Octavien married the Princess. If you want me to change anything (e.g. edit out the last paragraph) , just say the word )


Bella felt she had startled him somewhat, but only enough for a fleeting moment’s though to fly across his face before he answered her.

"No need to apologize, Baroness", he let slip a soft, welcoming smile. "I did not come here seeking solitude. You are interrupting nothing."

Bella graciously returned the smile, venturing in further into the room as he proceeded to introduce himself.

"Octavien Lahance", he offered, his head somewhat tilted as if it were a test to see whether she’d recognise the name; fame or infamy. There was no title attached to the name and yet somehow Bella felt there must be. Noblemen usually left out their titles for one of two things; fear of recognition or through egotistical compulsion. This man, Octavien, did not seem to belong to the latter, soft spoken and polite did not remind her of men and women who revelled in the power of a prefix to their names.

Yet the idea that he held some title, possibly important, clawed away at her. Even if he did, it earned nothing but respect from Bella to finally meet someone who did not cling to their title as if it were a raft in a dark and storming sea. It appeared to be a compulsive need or ritual to have to flaunt titles as a victory flag. She had had enough of games and power struggles for one day. A simple, sincere conversation would do.

“It is a pleasure Monsieur Lahance,” Bella gave a genuine, warm smile as she played out an elegant curtsey, deciding that he deserved decorum paid to him regardless of his title, if any. She began walk further into the room, her fingers wantonly toying with the soft lace of the drapes and the cold edges of the ornaments and decorations that stood in the room. The silk of her dress flowed effortlessly around her, accentuating the movement of the body that wore it, tandem with every slow fall of the arm and sway of the hips. “You seemed embroiled in thought, almost held captive..."
Bella let the sentence trail off, leaving it as an open invitation if he wanted to indulge in random discussions seeing as they had both decided to shun the rest of the court for simple rest of mind.
_________________________________________________________________

Christine decided to indulge in boldness and approach the man who had been alarmed at her appearance at the door. He seemed immersed in conversation with another noblewoman who sat with him, but for the worried glances aimed in her direction.

The cognac was being served, particularly originating from the direction of the man in question. Christine decided that if company did not approach her, she was meant to make the first move.

She walked over to their direction, the creases of her dress moulding itself into her movements as the footsteps dissipated into the corners of the room.
As her form fell finally close enough to the man, Christine stopped to formulate a pleasant smile over her face, before venturing to finally speak.

"You seemed somewhat startled by me appearance, sir," Christine could feel her voice pour out smoothly in to the air. She then glanced to the woman who sat with him, decided to introduce herself. "Please forgive my interruption. I am Christine Du Fontaine, Duchesse D'Avingnon."

"Life is just a chance to grow a soul" - A. Powell Davies
Field Researcher
#146 Old 6th May 2008 at 1:47 PM
Default Dimitri, Charmaine and Christine - Red Salon
Dimitri had been emptying the remains of his glass while Lady Mollier listed out her family. The details she gave were small but not insignificant: she did not hail from a big family, there was no mention of children—as anyone who spent any time with the Comte (or Comtesse) de Valois would realise, in the eyes of parents with children, all other relations mattered as much as moss—and…

It was a good thing he had finished when she mentioned Lord Venn.

He only remembered Lord Simon because the latter’s reputation occasionally reached even Lorraine. Lord Simon’s reputation was extraordinarily (and, some thought, suspiciously) spotless. But Dimitri paid little attention to scraps of gossip, so her words caught him by surprise. “Venn”… Surely, an odd coincidence at best? He placed his glass on the table, somewhat abruptly, about to inquire—

“You seemed somewhat startled by my appearance, sir.” A velvety voice interrupted him. Surprises building upon more: the cloaked figure approached their table, walking as softly as a cat.

Well, no longer quite so cloaked. And now, with a closer view, he noted that she was not as drenched as she had appeared, as well as being younger than expected for a messenger. She must have taken their silence as an invitation to introduce herself, for she turned to Lady Mollier, smilingly unperturbed: “Please forgive my interruption. I am Christine Du Fontaine, Duchesse D'Avingnon.”

Avingnon. He knew the province, of course. But with it being so far south of Lorraine, he hadn’t much reason to communicate regularly with the Fontaine family. The last letters exchanged must have been years ago. He was fairly certain, however, that the Duchesse d’Avingnon was slightly older…

The brunette faced him, still standing. Dimitri responded by rising from his own seat, replying in French, “Pardon my reaction, Duchesse. It is not often that one arrives at the Red Salon partly drenched, hence my alarm that something was amiss. Have a seat; the cognac shall warm you.” He gestured to an unused glass, half-filled with glimmering alcohol.

It was not a long walk from the entrance of the Red Salon to their table. Yet it was still unbelievable that the Duchesse managed to get this far without another gentleman offering her a seat. There was little sense in complaining, though, and so he set about with introductions. He switched to English, for the sake of their foreign guest, merely hoping that the Duchesse would follow suit.

“I am Duke Dimitri of Lorraine, and this is Lady Charmaine de Mollier from England. I gather you just arrived at the Palace, Duchesse?”

Dimitri’s mind was overflowing with questions, both for this young Duchesse whom he did not recognise and who did not seem to know him, as well as for Lady Mollier’s brother. As much as he wished to skip straight to them, courtesy demanded he take it one step at a time.

______

((So, yeah, Dimitri doesn't know Christine's parents have kicked the bucket. XD

Oh, and I assumed you were referring to Avignon, hence the "far south" mention. But feel free to correct if I got it wrong!

And for everyone's reading pleasure: Beauty in the 17th century. Just like the whole "people didn't bathe much back then", this is one of those times I'm way happier sticking to present-day logick than being historically accurate. Yeowch, LEAD?))
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#147 Old 6th May 2008 at 3:31 PM
Default Octavien & Bella - Grand Ballroom
(((ooc: Yeah, the thing with Elena was part of what I meant with "recent events". No need to change anything.)))


Watching for a spark of recognition in the young lady's eyes, Octavien was both slightly surprised and at the same time rather relieved to find that there was none. While his appearance might not be widely known to those that had not been in court for the past two weeks or so, he did know that his name was. News had obviously travelled fast, considering it had only taken César and Joséphine a mere few days to show up at the Palace, and for Octavien to recieve a letter from his mother, filled with melodramatic complaints of how he had gone and married the very Princess of the kingdom, and not even invited his poor mother to be part of the celebration. Granted, they both knew she spread it on a little thick, just for the sake of melodrama itself, as the two of them had always found amusement in obviously exaggerating every now and then. It was simply part of the dynamics between them, almost like an inside joke between mother and dearly beloved son. But that did not mean he wouldn't have a lot of explaining to do, once they met in the flesh again. Acted melodrama aside, he could tell from the letter that she really was a bit hurt that he had not mentioned anything about the impending wedding, nor invited her to participate. She couldn't possibly know that he'd had little chance to do so, what with agreeing to the whole thing only hours before the event itself.

But apparently, and, quite naturally really, there were still those that had not heard the news of the sudden change of groom. Gossip could be as elusive as it could be forceful, and if one was travelling, odds were the rumours would either pass right by you on the road in their hurry to reach the next town or village, or they would simply never catch up with you in the first place.
And frankly, Octavien did not mind. If anything, someone not knowing who, or rather what he was, was a welcome break. A chance to breathe, to be just another new face.

"It is a pleasure Monsieur Lahance," said the Baroness with a pleasant smile on her lips, and gave a graceful curtsey, confirming his observation with words, yet with her actions indicating that she suspected that just because he had not given a title, it did not mean there was none to be given.

It didn't seem to be a cause for much concern or apprehension in her, however, leaving Octavien to wonder if he had finally come across another courtier that was genuinly laidback, and had no problem allowing herself a moment or two of being perfectly natural and human, instead of spending every waking hour playing games and following rules, standards and expectations. So far, such courtiers had been a rare breed indeed. At least until the arrival of César, who at times didn't seem to give a hoot about what anyone thought of him, or even hide what he thought about them in turn. And then there was, of course, Joséphine, who while she was far from as blatant as her husband could be, had a genuinly pleasant and personal way about her, which would make Octavien feel that he was in the company of a real person, and not a doll or an actor following a script of nothing but society's every spoken and unspoken rule.

However, none of that meant that he was opposed to behaving in accordance with said rules. Octavien was a great fan of courtesy and respect, he had been raised to be a gentleman. And he did not shy away from playing the game of deception and scheming either, when the occasion called for it - as quite a few of his actions over the past couple of weeks would suggest. But that was just it; when the occasion called for it. There was a time and a place for everything, and if one did not choose carefully, one would not end up on good terms with neither foes, nor intended friends.

"You seemed embroiled in thought," the Baroness continued, while moving further into the room, following one of the walls and running her fingertips over the various decorations and ornaments in the process, as if drinking in the beauty of the room with all her senses. "... almost held captive..."

Octavien watched her slow elegant stride, a memory of a similar grace and sensuality flickering in his mind. A memory that was abruptly cut short and dismissed as soon as he realized who she reminded him of, by shooting at glance toward the painting he had been staring at when the Baroness had first roused him from his thoughts.
He had been sentimental enough already.

"I suppose I was...", he said slowly, and his gaze returned to her while he gave another faint, almost melancholic smile. "Sometimes, one simply finds that the past holds more appeal than does the present."

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Original Poster
#148 Old 6th May 2008 at 3:34 PM
((Just a little reminder 24 hours until evening.))
#149 Old 6th May 2008 at 6:14 PM
((ooc;; Thanks for the welcome's back guys, and boy does this place take off at night, are you all vampires. Well, nah your probably not .. it's just the dumb timezones Roseline says hey.))

.Name: Roseline Taylor

.Age: 23

.Title: Baroness

.Personality: Being beautiful and outspoken, Roseline always seemed to attract a lot of attention. She aims to be as high up the social ladder as possible, and tells herself that she'd do it by any means nessasary, even if that meant ruining another's chances. Her father was caught in a Major Scandal when he was a Duc. He was banished from the court, and his only daughter, the illigitamit Roseline was the outcome. She may seem to be willing to do anything nessasary to reach the top, but after being shunned for being who she is, she would love to be included. She doesn't often talk about her home life, and it is rare that she opens up completely in atempts to hide her shady background.

.Picture:

#150 Old 6th May 2008 at 7:17 PM
The large coach rolled along the uneven ground, bumping and shuddering so that the single passenger inside lurched slightly to the side of it. The streets were almost deserted. It was late afternoon and the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows along the inside of the coach as sun faded out of it. The young woman sitting almost completely silently inside ran a single finger from crease of her elbow to her slender wrist distractedly. The heavy rain splattered onto the carriage making a drumming rhythm that the young woman seemed to be concentrating on. As the horses pulling the coach turned the coach took another lurch and the blonde inside seemed to return to herself, stopping her preoccupied stroking of her arm and gazing upwards to the ceiling as if attempting to see through it to the dimming sky.

The coach had made deep tracks in the mud the heavy downpours of rain had produced, and other coaches that had already trundled along this way had created more, causing this particular, well used, road to become as unstable as ever. Roseline smiled happily to herself, she knew that, finally she was approaching the Palace that she had been so looking forward to. Her family, on the other hand were less than impressed about Roseline’s decision to return to Court their opinion being that she should stay home, be married and start a family. The driver of the coach gave an unexpected cough and Roseline hoped they were almost there. A happy smile on her bright features was ill fitting to her sombre mourning dress. No doubt she would be forced to wear the black mourning outfit for more days after this, and although deep inside her attitude fitted it well, for now her happiness at returning to the Palace outshone hidden sadness.

The coach came to a shuddering stop and the rain seemed to beat down on the coach harder than ever, Roseline heard another chesty cough escape from the driver, followed by a dull thud as he jumped down from where he had sat for the lengthy journey. Squelches in the mud did nothing, though it should’ve as she was soon to walk through it, to dampen Roseline’s spirit. A moment later, and the driver had arrived at her door, and with a click it swung wide, granting Roseline her first glimpse of the magnificent Palace in what seemed to be much to long.

"Madame?” The driver’s deep, husky voice drew Roseline away from her daydreams of the Palace. What had happened in her absents she was sure that Louisa, her lovely maid, was likely to waste no time in telling her. She finally looked down towards the driver who was almost soaked to the skin, and flashing him a warm smile she jumped down gladly taking his outstretched hand and ignoring his narrowed eyes and loud sigh as she stood for a second, oblivious to the pouring rain, happily taking in every aspect of the Palace and its grounds.

"Madame” the aggravated driver repeated, “would you like me to accompany you to the Palace?” He asked, his tone and every pore of his body screaming the opposite of his question though Roseline happily ignored this and simply shot him another warm smile, one completely out of place compared to her dark dress.

“It would be lovely for you to, Monsieur.” She said and began walking towards the Palace briskly, becoming aware that it wouldn’t be right for her to enter the Palace soaking wet in mourning clothes or she was much more likely to get too much of a sympathetic greeting for her current mood to make the most of.

After an obvious hesitation the driver hurried to catch up with the pretty blonde now striding quickly towards the large doors. He overtook her on the wet stone steps leading to the entrance and as she passed him, Roseline realised he was panting slightly after the effort he took to overtake her

“Merci Monsieur,” she said with a warm smile and quickly entered the warm Palace, attempting to wring out the wettest parts of her long blonde hair before moving graciously deeper into the Palace. She allowed her eyes to wander along the beautiful Palace walls as she walked along the carpeted hallway.


((ooc;; Approachable. Almost anywhere inside the castle, looking damp xPP))
 
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