César & Joséphine (and daughters) - meeting Octavien outside the Palace entrance
 

The sweet, fragile sound of a child's giggling filled the beautifully crafted carriage, as the pair's oldest daughter took pleasure in the way her father lavished his attention on her, and like any three year-old, she soon turned greedy, demanding the attention of her adored mother as well by reaching out for her.

"They are quite... vocal, arent't they?" the Marquise said with a small laugh, and reached across to give the tiny hands a motherly squeeze. "If that doesn't change later on, I fear for their future husbands' ears."

César chuckled as well, and then glanced down at the youngest daughter, his parental instincts telling him that the younger girl wouldn't tolerate her sister getting all the attention for very long. True enough, she already appeared to be sulking and glaring at Adèle, and so César intercepted any further reaction or tantrum, by placing a gentle hand on her head and burying it affectionately in her rich set of curls. It immeadiately seemed to cool the toddler's temper, and she returned the soft smile form her father by a bright one of her own.

Possible fight averted, César turned his head to look at Joséphine. This time his gaze found her in a state a bit more serious than a minute ago. Apparently his words had brought her own anticipation to the surface.

"I sometimes find it odd," she said, "the way fate seems to toy with us all. Who would have expected Octavien Lahance to rise to the rank of Prince, and yet that is the rumour on everyone's lips. I think it ultimately proves we can never be certain of anything in life."

At that, César couldn't help but to smile vaguely. Trust Joséphine to ponder the ways of life and the good Lord, instead of chattering on excitedly about how fantastic, and most of all scandalous, it would be for someone like Octavien, an untitled although wealthy young man, to come to court and rise to the position as Prince in a mere few months. Most would've focused on how on earth he had done it, on how he must've downright swept the Princess of her feet, for someone such as her to even notice him. That all in itself was enough to make the court, the entire kingdom even, come alive with gossip, theories and speculation.
Everyone but Joséphine, who instead of ranting on and on about the many variations of the rumour she had heard, looked at the deeper side of things, without really trying.
However, much like César hadn't married a fool, neither had she. He did register her tone of voice, and the look in her eyes, and realized that the cause for such a statement wasn't limited to Octavien's possible good fortune alone, but something a bit more personal as well. She wasn't just talking about the fate of César's good friend, she was talking about her own.
Though it seemed she didn't intend for him to pick up on it, and so even though his curiousity had been piqued, he decided not to call her on it. At least not yet.
Besides, there simply was not enough time to delve into such a conversation right now, as the carriage had rolled past the Palace gates, and they were rapidly approaching the moment when they would make their very first appearance at court.

"I'm sorry," Joséphine said, and offered a slight smile, seeming to unknowingly share her husband's sentiments, and having decided to smooth things over by lightening the mood. "It must be all the excitement that has overworked my mind today. Now let us see if the rumours are true, and if they are I have no doubts you are right and he will ensure you're reminded of it for some time to come. But my dear husband, wouldn't you do the same?"

With the skill of an expert, she had seamlessly gone from serious to playful in mere seconds, and made it sound like a perfectly natural transition. One that César followed willingly. Grimacing at her insight, he fought back another soft laugh, and waved a hand dismissively at her, in a way of seemingly brushing off her comment, yet intentionally leaving her to know she had won that round, as he didn't find a retort fast enough for it to not seem like he had to struggle to think of one that was good enough. At least not one good enough to silence her, and this was hardly the time to tease her sharp tounge to shoot off something that might possible be heard by the people that were gathering around the carriage as it slowed to a gentle halt. Not that he minded participating in an open duel of words with his lovely wife, but at the moment, it was hardly the time for such things. The two of them bickering, no matter how playfully, was not the first impression he wanted to leave the other courtiers with.
Instead, what the curious crowd would see, was a handsome young man stepping out of the carriage with no more aid from his servants than the opening of the door once the small foot iron had been lowered. He did it not with the rugged brusqueness of an unsophisticated brute who knew no better, but with the vitality of a youthful, virile man who would hardly require any assitance. Offering a charming smile to everyone in general, he then turned and offered a supporting hand to his wife, to help her step down from the carriage with the same grace and elegance. Neither of them payed any attention to the whispers heard from parts of the crowd, nor the way a finger or two pointed at the ornate emblem decorating the carriage door. Though that didn't mean they did not notice, and César smiled inwardly as well, satisfied that at least some seemed to know and recognize his family crest. While they may have made their presence at the court scarce, they were still a notable family, and a force to be reckoned with.
However, at the same time, César was well aware of his own notoriety for his various adventures throughout the years, and so he would not acknowledge the reactions, as he didn't know which ones were out of respect and awe, and which ones were simply the reactions of the many scandalmongers bound to thrive at a court such as this one.

With one beauty on his arm, and the tiny little hand of another in his, César took the first step toward the bright white marble steps leading up to the magnificent Palace entrance. Slowly, the rest of the family moved alongside with him, the short legs of the two small girls demanding that they didn't move too fast, and thus allowed them to be throughougly scrutinized and admired as they glided elegantly through the small crowd that had gathered, and was now parting like the Red Sea infront of them.



Out in the gardens, Octavien was still strolling around, lost in thought and completely unaware of the new arrivals. What had started as an internal debate regarding the various possibilities for Isabella to withdraw from him the previous night, had turned into yet another session of pondering his forced solitude, and what could be done to break it. Despite his efforts, he still only had two people in whose presence he was comfortable enough to be open and personal, and whom he knew he could trust; Isabella and Gilles. And if one of them was truly withdrawing from him...

Granted, he was getting way ahead of himself on this, based on nothing more than Isabella's excuse not to be with him last night. But since coming to court, his previous carefree nature and excitement over doing something and simply waiting to see what would come of it, had turned into a tendency to want to try and predict the outcome long before it happened. Where before going with the flow had been part of the thrill, the pleasure now came from being one step ahead of things. Even if in this particular case 'pleasure' was not nearly the right word.

"Your Highness!"

A short-winded voice from behind reached through to his distant consciousness, and pulled him back to the present time and place. Turning around, he saw a male servant hurrying towards him.

"Your Highness, visitors have arrived!" the man panted once he came to a halt infront of Octavien, and gave a somewhat clumsy bow due to his winded state. "Cometess du Bouchard, and the Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan. I apologize for bothering you, Your Highness, but the King and the Queen are otherwise engaged, and are not to be disturbed."

Ah, yes. With Edouard and Isabella both unavailable, and the Princess indisposed of, the Prince was the next, and the only one, in line to shoulder the duties of welcoming any new arrivals to court. Most likely, it would've been the cause of much distress on Octavien's part - with Adalita's condition everyone had been too preoccupied to see to it that the new Prince became well versed in the ways and the duties of a royal family members - had the name of the couple not grabbed his attention firmly by the collar. 'Marquis and Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan'? César and Joséphine? One of Octavien's very best friends, and his enchanting wife? What were they doing here? César had sent no word that he intended to visit, nor had Octavien had the time to send an invitation for him to do so.

"Are you quite sure it's the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan?" he questioned the servant, who was now trying to catch his breath and thus only managed a frenetic nodding.

The very next second, the initial confusion was gone from the young Prince's face, replaced with a a smile as bright as it was broad. These were the best news he'd had for what felt like a really long time.

"Thank you", he said to the servant, thus dismissing him, and started moving towards the front of the Palace.

At a distance, he saw the luxurious carriage with the familiar crest being set into motion towards the stables, the small crowd of courtiers that had gathered, and in their midst... César and Joséphine, with their two little daughters.
What a sight for sore eyes to the young Prince!

As he quickened his pace to reach them before they disappeared into the Palace, and he was caught so obviously chasing after them, he saw Joséphine turn her head in his direction, and their instantly locked.
Only then did certain memories come flooding back, with such force it even managed to slow his determined steps, even if only ever so slightly.

Joséphine... Octavien had not forgotten the... incident. Though it was hardly from lack of trying.

How odd it had been to look at her then, with new eyes, sharing a secret with her that even his best friend didn't know. And how odd it was to look at her now, with the many months that had passed since then and left the memory to fade. Only to hit him full force again now, as their eyes met.

Still, it all did little to take away from his joy of seeing the two of them, and with the bright smile fading into more and more of a smirk, Octavien's pace slowed to the confident swagger quite befitting of a Prince. With César around, there was bound to be some action and some good laughs just lurking around the corner.
In fact, possibilities were occuring to Octavien already.

"Well well well", he said, once he was close enough for his voice to be heard, without having to raise it much. "Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan. To what do we owe the honor of your presence? And that of your lovely wife and daughters?"

Recognizing the voice, César's head turned instantly. The smile on his lips widened to reveal his perfect set of pearly whites, and his eyes began to positively sparkle with the humor and mischief usually brought out by the company of his friends.

"Ah, Octavien", he said. "Such a relief to see you looking so well, and every bit your usual self. I have been most worried about you."

"Me?"

Octavien quirked a brow.

"Why, yes", César said, obviously fighting back a smirk of his own. "I was concerned you would suffer under the burdens of proper conduct and the social norms of nobility, and, God forbid, even learn and adapt to some of them. In short, I was afraid this place would have a bad influence on you."

At that, Octavien couldn't hold back a laugh.

"As opposed to your bad influence, you mean?" he said while ascending the last few marble steps to reach the little family, and the two men met in a brotherly embrace, with the traditional and firm pat on the back.

Once that was done, Octavien turned to Joséphine. And hesitated for a second, unsure of how to greet her. He didn't know how the proper way of doing it - planting a kiss on either of her cheeks - would make her react, but anything less informal, like simply scooping up her hand and kissing her knuckles instead, might make César wonder.
However, before his hesitation became apparent to anyone, with perhaps the exception of Joséphine herself, he took her hands gently in his and gave them a light squeeze while leaning forward to plant swift, soft kisses on her rosey cheeks.

"Joséphine", he said and gave her a genuinely warm smile. "Welcome".



(((ooc: Sorry, I know it's really long, but I had two characters to cover here. *s* )))

((OOC: I would like to apologize for not being around. Some of you know I'm kind of going through a life crisis right now. I will be leaving in less than 12 hours, flying out of state and will not have computer access until late next week. The RP is temporarily in the very good hands of Seiza, Fayreview, and Atropa. They all know this RP forward and backwards and can answer any questions. When I come back I will be doing my best to catch everything up. Thank you for your understanding!
With that said...
Morning will be called when I return.))

Dimitri, Emmeline (& Mercy? ;) - Main Hall
 

Dimitri only had time to share a brief greeting and smile with Mercy, before the presence of the new arrival demanded his attention. But the lady’s demeanour made him wonder if the large welcome had been meant for a larger congregation. Other than her daughter, the two were not accompanied by any men of notable rank, merely footmen carrying their bags. It seemed quite brutal, not to mention improper, for a mother and her child to travel in winter without a male relative to escort them.

There was also her obvious hesitance, her deer-like eyes widely taking in the two rows of servants lining the entrance. She had not expected this welcome, and so perhaps it had not been meant for her.

With a final bow to Mercy, he approached.

“Comtesse du Bouchard,” Dimitri said solemnly. He towered over her, as he seemed to do over many women in this court. “Welcome to the Palace of Light and Air, under the righteous reign of His Royal Highness King Edouard Auguste Louis Rotherham IV. The King and Queen could not be here themselves, for which they are regretful. I am Duc Dimitri-Josèphe d’Lorraine, here to receive you in their stead.”

Several men were already taking her bags away, presumably to a room. Yet most of the servants remained closer to the door, moving busily about, bringing in twice the amount of the Comtesse’s luggage. There was someone else coming, but Dimitri would not abandon this poor, escort-less lady and her daughter until they were settled down.

Yet perhaps his appearance—dark and stern and scarred as it was—flustered her even more, for she did not seem very at ease with him. Dimitri thought to suggest, “Shall I have the chief steward show you to your room, or would you prefer the more gentle hand of a lady?”

The only “Lady” he knew to be around was Baroness Venn, and since he could not turn to silently ask her permission in the presence of another lady, the Duc could only hope she was willing to attend to this woman and her child.

______

((The effect of procrastination is finally kicking my butt, so I've a number of deadlines coming up this week. :eviltongu

Fay, feel free to have Mercy step in and take charge of Emmeline if you want. ^^ And GeeWay, whichever option Emmeline decides, you can just have Dimitri pass her to Mercy or the steward.))

Mercy had, naturally, been listening to Dimitri speak, just in case she could phanthom something about the young woman from his words, it seems she could not, she merely realised that she knew the name and not the woman. She had almost stopped listening when Dimitri said "or would you prefer the more gentle hand of a lady?” Mercy personally wondered if that was some sort of joke... for he knew she was not the most gentle of women, but she disregarded it and walked to his side.

"Duc d’Lorraine, Comtesse du Bouchard," she bowed deeply to them both. "I am Baroness Venn and I would be most pleased to take you to your rooms... if it pleases you," she added on the final sentence as an after thought, the last time she had been in contact with a woman of this rank was one of the uppity young women in the orangery, which seemed so long ago now.... Mercy paused to reflect and try and remember when she last seem said woman when the tall imposing figure of Dimitri backed slowly away from her and the Comtesse and gave a bow, pressumably she was in charge here now? Ah well she thought, I have to meet my new people sometime....

Rukov was a stocky man, broad-shouldered, dark-eyed. His hair was even darker than his master’s, but straight as a board, thick as twine; a little dry, without the Duc’s fine curls. Now it was tied tightly, tracing out the contours of his skull, ending in a little knob of a ponytail just below his neck.

Rukov was tan-skinned and average built. In some cases, that was enough to keep him unnoticed. In most cases, however, Rukov was only noticed when he wanted to be noticed.

And so it was with almost terrible ease that he blended among the servants—not the haughty stewards who tended the nobles, but those of the lower rank and file, the ones left to sweep the chimneys and scrub the floors. His hands were as rough as theirs, his French just as coarse; many did not look twice at him, and those who did he left with the impression of a foreigner brought to do the worst of their dirty work.

And so it was to no one’s surprise when Rukov hauled a heavy pail of dirty water across the main entrance, to the west wing, and down the staircase.

But Rukov, for all his skill, was still a foreigner who had not been in this palace before, and hadn’t adequate time to familiarise himself with his surroundings. And so it should come as no surprise when a young woman, who would otherwise not have noticed the comings and goings of servants, noticed him.

--

Roseline found herself wandering back towards the West Wing, keen on getting back to her suite. She had spent the majority of the day around the Palace, nothing catching her eye for long enough to keep her completely interested, although the day was obviously a hectic one for others. The windows of the Palace still showed the horrible weather outside, and she found herself wishing for spring, when she could finally get outside into the Palace gardens.

Yet, as she came down past the Blue Salon, intent on getting into the warmth of her Salon, a servant – or a man whom Roseline took to being one – was hauling a pail of dirty water, about to descend the stairs to the servants’ room. Normally, the occurrence itself wasn’t a surprising one and Roseline would mostly ignore it, but it was something about the stature of the man. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen him in the Palace before, because servants of the Palace leave and come as often as the seasons, but there was something about him, something that Roseline couldn’t place, but still, something that she wasn’t completely comfortable with.

She passed her suite without completely noticing, keeping close to the walls, she suddenly felt silly – acting like a spy with nothing but a feeling to go on. She came away and was about to say something when she thought twice. With another step forward, Roseline stood on the first step of the staircase. Would the man not think it strange that a young Baroness was about to come down into the servants’ quarters without an excuse to stand on?

--

Rukov would have been immediately suspicious, if he had seen her. What distracted him, however, was a servant making a mad dash towards him. It was dark down here, and he could not tell if the servant was running to him with an errand, or simply running for the stairs.

He could not take the chance of being delayed any further. Dropping the heavy pail in one corner, Rukov slid easily into the corner shadows, crouched and waited.

The result was as expected: the servant stopped almost right before him—her hem practically skirted his nose—but did not see him. She stood there dumbly, looking around, she could have sworn there’d been someone... then she shrugged to herself and ascended the stairs, looking for someone else to foist her errands upon.

Rukov waited until her footsteps faded from his perked ears, before sliding out of his hiding place. He walked swiftly down the stretch of rooms, looking left and right for—something. Not the servants’ quarters, not their dining room...

He did not even glance at the pail of dirty water, and so he did not see the finely dressed, little blonde woman following him.

--

Roseline saw the young woman almost immediately after descending the steps towards the lower floor. The man though, had too seen her and skirted out of sight into one of the dark corners leaving Roseline in the open, and the servant to only see her. Roseline silently cursed him, but at the same time realised that her first assumptions of the man had been correct, and he wasn't simply one of the other servants - or not one that wanted to be seen at the moment.

Roseline took a couple of quick steps back up the steps leading down and waited for the other girl to reach her, attempting to look casual although she hoped she wouldn't be questioned. The girl finally reached her, and - although giving Roseline somewhat of a curious look simply passed her, and continued on her way. As soon as her footsteps had faded away Roseline rushed down the stairs, almost colliding with the abandoned pail of water - whatever he was doing, he didn't need that, so she followed the corridor down, her eyes slowly growing accustomed to the dim light and looked toward each room as she passed it.

She had never been down here, and it was so much of a difference to the rest of the Palace, the floor - although fairly clean, was more dirty than the hallways upstairs with a light layer of dust as carpet, and each room was plainly furnished unlike the extravagant suites on the other floors. She might have passed the man who she had followed down here if she had not heard two male voices from around the corner. She slowed to a stop and hovered, just out of view so that she could hear them.

She tipped her head just around the corner of the wall so that she could just make out the two figures standing, and caught the end of the stocky man's staggered question, his French not at all as fluent as most of the courtiers, and not near the usual heavily accented French of the servants but she understood the end - asking where the dungeon was.

“Now what’s your business looking for something like that, man?” The second man questioned curiously.

“It is where the candles kept. I am looking for that place.” Rukov answered, stuttering slightly.

The servant laughed gently “Then a dungeon’s not what you need, but our supply room! Just walk straight down, it be on the right of you. But if you’re ever marched to the dungeons,” the young man added with a smirk, “then it’s that-a-way.”

The man didn't look at all impressed, and simply nodded curtly with a vague "Merci" before they parted, and the servant went off in a different direction.

Roseline stepped out silently from her hiding place, keen on calling out to him, but held her call back. Biting down slightly on her lip, worried that she shouldn't have followed him, but too curious to turn back now she headed down to follow him.

--

Time ticked away rapidly in his head, but he could not afford to be caught this far in. And so he took slow, quiet steps. He did not creep, walking tall and alert; yet he walked without sound. Almost. What little sound emitting from his boots blared like a trumpet in his ears, although it could not have been more than a whisper. Rukov cursed inside. But it couldn’t be helped. He hadn’t come to the Palace dressed for this.

He stopped short when the stone walls turned a dirtier, more depressing shade. He could see the shadow of a bayonet against the far wall. That told him all he needed to know. His lord would have to find the prisoner himself.

And, well, there was someone following him. That would need to be dealt with.

Rukov turned with a snap, small eyes peering into the darkness. He knew he had heard it: a rustle of skirts. Time sped like a demon in his head, but he kept staring in silence. Then he heard it: the sound of heels moving against the floor. That had been the noise from earlier, he was sure now. Footsteps he thought had been his were instead this... this spy’s, this person who would soon regret his curiosity, this...

“Monsieur!” The voice that called him was tightly strained, but clearly feminine.

A woman!

“Excuse moi, monsieur...” A blonde woman—noblewoman, from the way she held herself even in this underground, especially in this underground—spoke.

Rukov did not reply. How had this woman followed him so deeply in? Surely he couldn’t have been so careless! How much had she heard? And why had she chosen now to speak? Perhaps, being such a frail woman, she had lost her nerve in this dreary dungeon. Rukov wished she knew just how close her slender neck had come to being snapped from her shoulders.

For some reason, she continued in English. “Are you okay?”

Rukov blinked, and his hard eyes turned softer and dumber. His broad shoulder drooped in humility.

“Y... Yes, Mademoiselle,” he murmured in heavily accented English. Then he switched back to his crude French, because he was a servant, and servants did not know perfect English. “Storage. I look for candles for my lord.” He turned ruefully towards the dungeon, shrugging helplessly and childishly. “But I think I got lost again.”

--

Some time passed as the man seemed to contemplate the question, his hard eyes dimming slightly, and his shoulders slumping in what seemed to be defeat.

He finally replied a feeble 'yes', his English accent obvious, as if he was in fact speaking in his native tongue, but for some reason switched quickly back to French, as if trying to prove that he was just a servant although his simple outward appearance would testify against it.

“Storage. I look for candles for my lord.” He turned ruefully towards the dungeons, shrugging in defeat, as if he could never get to his original destination. “But I think I got lost again.” Roseline gave a strained smile. She had seen his gaze to flicker towards the dungeons, but what the man would want down there she would never know. The dingy corridor leading to it was enough to send any of the courtier’s running back for the ordinate hallways above.

“Yes, I don’t think this is the way.” She told him – attempting to keep her voice light but in truth was regretting following the man down here. He was strong, and looking for the dungeons. He couldn’t be good news.

Thankfully spotting a servant coming out of an adjoining corridor, although they were clearly busy, rushing back the way that Roseline and Rukov had come she called the young man over.

“Monsieur,” She began, with a quick glance towards the man and continued in quickl, fluent French, “Please show this man to the storage room, and after help him back towards the main palace floor.” Growing more and more suspicious of the stocky man, she gave a curt nod and another strained smile.

“Au reviour” She said finally, turning quickly and following the dirty corridor back towards the staircase she had descended some time ago and quickly darted up it, seeing the sky outside had turned a dark blue but didn’t go straight to her chambers, instead she began to walk about the castle, happy for the warmth up here but her mind on the man she presumed was still downstairs.

-----

((ooc;; Roseline is completely approachable – if anyone happens to be out wandering the palace at night… :P))

Emmeline, Dimitri and Mercy ~ Main Hall
 

Emmeline looked between the steward and the Baroness. The Duc was obviously busy, but she had not been in contact with a woman for some time. Slowly, she spoke.
"If it is ok with the Baroness Venn, I would like her to escort me to my room. She may be able to fill me in on how to find my way around this vast palace. It seems overwhelming now, but I feel once I know my way around, I shall be more at ease." She smiled at the Baroness and the Duc, feeling strange around the people of Court. Their manners seemed more refined than hers, that she didn't mind. But they seemed so at home here, she felt like an outsider. Maybe the feeling would last until she settled down, but she felt she wasn't needed nor welcome at the Court. Stop being stupid, she scolded herself. Your just not used to being in such a big place with so many people.

César, Joséphine and Octavien - Palace entrance -> Main hall -> de la Valliére suite
 

"Thank you, Octavien", the demure darkhaired beauty by his friend's side said, with a smile matching Octavien's own in warmth on her rose colored lips. "Or should I say, Majesty?"

The greeting between the two had gone even more smoothly than Octavien had dared hope. Joséphine had been quick to follow his lead, expertly doing her part to conceal the moment of hesitation that had flitted by, and making it seem as though it had never even been there at all. If, against all odds and for some strange reason, anyone had been staring incessantly at either of the two, and notice the tiny flicker of awkwardness between them, they would now have dismissed it as a figment of their imagination, and think that what they had seen, had only been the brainchild of their hunger for some first class gossip. Nothing more.
Then again, if not even the one person most likely to have noticed had caught it, then the chance of anyone else seeing it was close to non-existant. And by the looks of it, César was still none the wiser. Instead of having his face marred by a look of suspicion, it held only the same inquisitve curiousity put into words by Joséphine, regarding Octavien's rumoured advancement. Was he, or wasn't he?

The young man's first reaction offered no insight, as it revealed nothing but genuine surprise. He hadn't thought they would've heard the rumours, as it was his understanding that word had not yet travelled beyond the city borders. Even news as big as a change in grooms and consequently Princes would take some time to spread. But then again, in César's more... refined circle of friends - or rather acquaintances, meaning the other nobles with whom a man in his position was expected to socialize - and Joséphine's as well, one was expected to know of the many twists and turns in the faraway court. How many hours had Octavien himself spent barely listening to the ladies going on and on about this and that courtier, who had married who and for how much money, and everything else he was supposed to care about, but didn't?
Too many to count.

Perhaps there had been guests from his home province attending the wedding? That would indeed explain it. And since César was hardly a man that required every move he made to be planned weeks in advance, it wouldn't be that far-fetched and out of character for him decide it was time to visit his old friend, and be on his way in a matter of hours. In fact, it would be just in accordance his character.

"Ah, yes", Octavien said once the initial reaction had passed, and his face lit up with another smile. "'Your Majesty' would be the proper term of address these days, had our acquaintance not been strong enough to far surpass the use of titles. I couldn't possibly have a friend such as yourself address me by anything but the name you have always known me by."

Having said that, and by the sounds of it spoken only to Joséphine, and not her husband as well, Octavien gave César a glance full of mirth and impishness, and added;

"However, I am still considering whether or not to make an exception for your scoundrel of a husband. Lord knows he could do with a lesson in humility."

Feigning shock at first, with his hand gingerly over his chest as if physically hurt, César drew a chuckle from his friend's lips, before swiftly moving on to produce a low and lavish bow, almost as though he was one of the courtiers that had fallen from the royal family's good grace over the years, and was attempting to appease them by groveling. Then, he straightened his back once again, and looked at Octavien with a quirked brow, as if saying 'Happy?'.

"Very well", Octavien said, struggling to restrain the smile spreading on his lips, and keep it from growing too wide, and too smug.

Still, it was plain to see that he took great pleasure in seeing his friend the Marquis have to bow down to him. Even if it was done in a way so very exaggerated, that it was obviously partly in jest. Octavien knew it was just a way for César to save his pride, which only went on to prove that the fact that Octavien, previously untitled, earning a title that put him far above César in rank, had gotten to him.
As it should. After all these years of playful and sometimes downright snotty gibes, Octavien was finally getting even.
However, before he got a chance to say anything else, César moved on, though not to escape the topic, as he knew he had it coming and would accept it as a fact, but because his curiousity was not yet sated;

"Prince Octavien Lahance", he said, sounding as though he was tasting the words, trying them out, and deciding whether or not they sounded right. "My, I've taught you well. Better than I was even aware of myself. Do tell."

At that, Octavien could but give an amused snort. Trust César to find a way to take credit for his recent advancement and good fortune, and to do it by referring to the various little tidbits of knowledge regarding women that he had passed on to Octavien over the years. Despite the fact that Octavien could handle himself and his 'adventures' just fine on his own. César, being the ladies' man he had grown to be, was the kind of man that in front of his friends, would have a tendency to brag. Not about the women he'd had, but about the women he could get, and how. Though the lessons learned from his romantic encounters were sometimes shared with his closest friends - Octavien being one of the lucky few - the names of the ladies with whom he had done what, always remained secret. César never discussed a lady once she had made it into his bed. Unless, of course, it was one of the few regular mistresses he had, in which case his friends had soon realized there was a relationship. Then, and only then, was there a slight chance the lady would come up in conversation. But even then did César keep it somewhat clean, and did not reveal any sordid details.
And he never flaunted his affairs to his wife. Not because he thought she didn't know, because he knew it was most likely that she did, but because of respect for her, and because he though it didn't really concern her.
But, even though he had spoken mostly in jest just now, there was still a bit of truth to his words, and Octavien couldn't help but glance at Joséphine, to see if and how the remark effected her. Did she hear nothing but a joke, or did she hear a vague admission of her husband's infidelity? Even though César himself acted as though it was a perfectly innocent comment.

"Tomorrow", Octavien said, and put a hand on César's shoulder, while motioning towards the magnificent Palace entrance with the other, as if to invite them in. "It is getting late, and you must all be very hungry and very tired. Come, let me escort you to your room, and have the servants bring you something to eat."

Together, the five of them ascended the last few steps, and the newly arrived family de la Valliére set foot in the Palace for the first time. As they all took a moment to look around and admire the lavish architecture and decor, Octavien glanced around the Main hall, having suddenly remembered the other new arrival, the Comtesse... what was it again? Comtesse du Bouchard?
Within moments, his eyes fell on a woman seeming a few years older than himself, with a small child in tow, and found, much to his relief, that Duc d'Lorraine had already approached her. Anyone else in Octavien's position might've been offended, that the Duc had so boldly taken it upon himself to do the duty of the royal family, while one of it's members was still fairly available. Octavien, however, was simply grateful, as by ensuring that the lady was properly greeted, the Duc saved the young Prince from the embarrassment of failing at the duties he had yet to learn, and master.
And so, it was with a quick and faint yet noticable smile, that Octavien offered the older man a silent 'Thank you', before leading the small family down the corridor, following the many servants carrying their luggage, to the room that was to be theirs during their stay. The things belonging to the two small girls, however, was carried to a another room further down the hall, which they would share with their nanny, to give their parents some privacy.

It was a short walk, filled with idle and merry smalltalk, that allowed the newcomers to take in the beauty of their new surroundings; the handpainted wallpaper, the delicate vases, statues and figurines, the luxurious carpets, the many and detailed portraits. And, in César's case, a few of the ladies milling about. There were a few that managed to catch his eye, but as he was in the company of not only his wife, but his entire family, and this was his very first appearance in this court, he didn't allow himself more than a few casual, stolen glances. Mostly, he paid full attention to what Octavien was showing and telling them, and exchanged quite a few comments with his wife, regarding what they saw and heard.

"Ah, here we are", Octavien said when finally they reached the room, and he stopped in the doorway once the others had entered. "I hope you will find it satisfacory."

Just then the same servant that had approached him the garden appeared by his side once again.

"Your Highness", he apologized with a quick bow. "I was sent to fetch you. I am afraid the Princess' condition has taken a turn for the worse."

Instantly, a crease wedged itself between Octavien's eyebrows, and he gave a curt nod, dismissing the servant once again before turning to his friends.

"I hope you will forgive me, but I'm afraid you do not find us at the most joyous of times. My poor wife has taken ill, and I feel I need to be by her side. But you have my word that as soon as my wife's health allows it, I will give you the grand tour of the Palace."

With that, and another few words in parting, emphazising how pleased he was to have César and Joséhine visting the court, he took his leave of them, and hurried towards Adalita's room, to join the King and Queen in being by her side.



(((ooc: Feel free to have your (female) character being one of the ladies César noticed, if you want. )))

Marie-Elisabeth was currently in a very pleasant mood. She had returned to her rooms to find everything packed away and all of her things set out just the way she liked them.

In fact, she was in such a good mood she decided to write to her stepdaughters first, before writing to her son.

Dear Sophie and Helene,

I have arrived at the palace safely and everything is in order. You would hardly belive how grand and lovely everything is here. There are certainly many interesting people, including quite a few young men. I'm sure I'll be able to find suitable husbands for the two of you in no time at all.

I hope that you are both well and that the country air is doing you some good. Perhaps if you are feeling better you might come for a visit soon. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Marie-Elisabeth de Valois

Satisfied that she had at least written a decent enough letter to them, she dipped the quill in ink again to write to her son.

My beloved Charles,

How are you doing my dear son? I know that I am missing you already, and I can not wait to see you again. But I always keep my locket with me so I can see your smiling face every day.

I bet that you would love the palace here, there are so many places to explore, things to see, and interesting people to meet. I actually met a frind of your father's this morning, Dimitri-Josèphe, the Duc d'Lorraine! I'm sure your father had mentioned him to you, they were in the war together!

I hope that you are keeping up with all your studies, but I bet I don't even have to ask if you are. I know how much you want to be just like your dear father.

I hope I'll hear back from you soon, and don't you forget to write to your sisters either.

Love always,
Your Mother

She smiled as she finished writing and carefully sealed both letters. She handed them to a servant and told him to have them both sent out as soon as possible.

Marie-Elisabeth then decided she would go back to the grand hall before retiring for the evening, to see if there were still any others arriving. As she left her rooms, she saw the Prince walk by with a young family. She curtseyed respectfully as they passed by, noticing that the man appeared to glance at her before moving on. Inwardly she wondered why anyone would want to bring such small children to court.

After they had left her line of vision, Marie-Elisabeth continued on towards the Main Hall.

OOC: I'm not sure where Marie-Elisabeth's rooms are exactly, since they aren't on the map so I'll just pretend they're in the vicinity And entirely approachable if you like

I am really sorry but I will have to drop out of the rp. I havent had much time to rp and I wont have in the future. Things are crazy mad in my life at the moment so sadly I will have to leave.

((OOC:
Run, scream, and hide now! I got back from my trip in the wee hours of the morning, and I'm afraid to say I don't have the time right now to catch up on the posts that were made. I want to have quiet where I can actually sit and give the attention that is due. I will say that Morning will be called in about 24 hours. So please try to wrap up whatever needs to be wrapped up.

littlesunshine - sorry to see you go.))

((As you probably now when I retired from this site (everything but this thread) it was becuase things were happening and they still are sadly.....))

"If it is ok with the Baroness Venn, I would like her to escort me to my room. She may be able to fill me in on how to find my way around this vast palace. It seems overwhelming now, but I feel once I know my way around, I shall be more at ease."

Mercy was glad to have been chosen, it also suggested she was perhaps right about Dimitri being a little overwhelming. Something you could not describe the 40-something Baroness as.... unless you knew her of course.

"If my dear Comtesse would like to follow me and bring her charming young companion with her, I just spoke to the head of the royal household staff who assured me on the place for the rooms which have been made up, I believe we have found you a nice corner rsuite wirh a good view of the grounds." Mercy gave a gentle smile before moving them, woman and child, up the stairs to the room the man had suggested to her corner suites were always nice due to the number of windows, so she was in fact surprise several were free, in deed she only counted hers and Dimitri's as being use, most odd she pondered....

(((OOC: I was just wondering if the new character's suites will be added to the map soon. I wanted to know where Marie-Elisabeth's was situated )))

((Eek sorry Shenan i dropped into write the post I neglected and failed to notice your back! But we are soooooo happy to see you! And Mercy mentioned putting Comtesse du Bouchard in a corner room, after I checked that they hadn't been filled of course hope that is ok!))

Dimitri - in his suite
 

((Good luck, littlesunshine! And great to have you back, Shenan! :D))
______


Dimitri did not miss the Prince’s eye as the latter walked in with four others, and modestly lowered his head at the ‘thank you.’ From Octavien’s gait alone, he suspected that these were no mere acquaintances, but actual friends of his. Perhaps they had come to offer the new husband their support, what with poor Adalita still bedridden and uncommunicative.

Even as he stepped aside, Mercy was already taking charge of the young woman and her child. There was a gentle smile on her face that he did not recall ever seeing—only her impish smile and flustered smile and polite smile, but not something so soft and... motherly? He looked briefly at the young girl standing with her mother, remembering that Baroness Venn was widowed and, likely, dealt with such children all the time.

Seeing that all was in order, the Duc returned to his suite. Then he smiled a noncommittal smile of his own. “You finally return.”

“Apologies, my lord.” Rukov bowed from his place by the fireside, in a voice that knew his lateness would be well-justified. When he straightened, the darkest scowl of annoyance darkened his dark face. “This palace works its servants to the bone. I could barely get away from the stewards!”

Dimitri was unsympathetic. “You do love your chambermaids.”

Rukov grinned. He certainly did.

“Well?”

“I found it,” Rukov might have sniffed indignantly, if Dimitri thought he would return without completing his task. But he knew the Duc well; the sharpness in his voice was based on the expection that the task was already done, and for him to get on to the results already. “The guards will be no problem.”

“Is he still there?”

“I thought I heard a whine...”

“Very good. Let’s waste no time. Tonight we—” A meek knock interrupted Dimitri immediately, earning the door a blistering grey-eyed glare. Rukov moved to answer it.

It was a court steward. That snippy one who hung his nose from the ceiling, because Rukov carried pails of dirty water while he carried envelopes of perfumed letters. But tonight, the man appeared whiter than the powder on his cheeks. Perhaps he recognised Rukov. Perhaps it scared him that the oak-skinned, stocky man was a personal servant of the Duc. It made him very happy to think that.

“...I have an urgent message for the Duc d’Lorraine. It is from His Royal Highness King Edouard—”

Rukov snatched the note from his hands, shutting the door.

Dimitri did not read the note aloud. But Rukov could read the name engraved on his face, which paled in entire shades as to be impossible: Adalita.

Rukov knew the Duc well; the whiteness on his face could only be brought by that most devastating of news, that most crushing of spirits. He saw such whiteness on his storm-grey eyes only one other time. And Rukov knew there would be no more planning tonight.

Morning Address - Day 5
 

((OOC: I'm sorry that I haven't gotten back in here yet. What can I say, life is a mess. I will update the maps as soon as I can, but it's likely to be another five to six days. I'm really sorry. Thank you for the welcome backs. I will get back in here as soon as I can. I just wanted to come on to make this RP announcement....)

As the sun rose on the new morning, anyone would notice immediately by gazing out the window that the snow had melted away. Perhaps it's a sign of spring to come? However, most are not gazing out of windows, most are donning their black attire. The morning announcements were canceled this morning due to the death of the Princess Adalita. She passed in the wee hours of the morning, with her Father the King, the Queen, and her husband Prince Octavien at her bedside.

((Shenan I don't think any of us expect this roleplay to be on your mind at all during this difficult period, thank you for coming in a seeing us, but we'll be if here whenever you can, and wish to, come back. All the old crowd know how hard you worked to keep us running after Eternal disappeared and we are more than willing to honour that by maintaining everything whilst you are away.

As for maintenance here is a suggestion at a floor plan, that is Shenan's base just with two characters who left removed and you new ones added. It is by no means official just me trying to take a little thing of Shenan's shoulders.

I put Josephine and Cesar (sorry about the lack of accents there) Next to each other, I thought ajoining suite's would work for a married couple.

If I have made a mistake please tell me! unless of course Shenan comes back and say's I have over stepped the mark then i shall simply remove it.

Sorry about the font discrepancy I searched for Shenan's font and couldn't find a match so I went with Times New Roman!



http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a...p_MainFloor.jpg - Direct link for whom it may concern.

((Double post eek! but keeping RP and possibly to be deleted post seperate seemed reasonable to me.... but feel free to tell me otherwise anyone))

Mercy was dressed in black again, the same dress she had worn to a maquerade ball so long ago, in fact it had not been so long. It just felt it she decided. Mercy had dispatched her dress with instructions to send the bill to the Duc, but still her mood was sombre. The Royal's would be quiet and moody for a little while, understandably, and what could she do about that? Nothing. That's what. Mercy sighed as she left her room and headed to the dining room to eat breakfast.

Food was the best thing about getting older, as people no longer watched her figure so closely she no longer needed such tight corsets and without them she could actually eat normal food, in a decent volume she was also blessed with two fine assets that made everything below them seem smaller. And no one seem to mind size in that area on a woman. The dress was smaller and more managable today as when she last wore it as she was wearing fewer petticoats and had detached some of the additional ornamentation to make it suitable for mourning.

Mercy only had one official mourning dress, the one she had worn during the break down of her marriage, her little failure, that in fact was not her fault... When her husband had died a short while later she had worn yellows and pinks for a week, as a mild form of celebration thankfully she had been visiting her cousin in Venice then so no one knew of her husbands demise, except her cousin, and so no one felt it was improper.

She settled at a table with a reasonably full plate and smiled.

((If anyone would like a breakfast companion feel free!))

(((OOC: The map looks great to me Fayreview. Looks like Mercy and I are next door neighbours :P
And don't worry Shenanigans, we understand you've got things going on, it's okay)))

Dimitri - Dining Room
 

((Don't worry Shenan, no one's asking you to put Real Life after the RP. We'll all keep things going so just take care. ))
______


The Duc d’Lorraine was up before the sun as per his routine. He calmly bathed, dressed and went over his schedule with Rukov. The sole anomaly was that, for the first time, his dark clothing did not contrast sharply with the palace’s brightly-coloured courtiers—nearly everyone was wearing something black and grey and sombre.

There was not a dry eye in the corridors, but Dimitri’s grey eyes were clear.

After receiving the King’s note last night, he locked himself in his room.

Rukov did not sit with him, but knowingly waited outside his master’s suite. The palace was eerily still as morning crept ever closer, as if there was not—or precisely because there was—a princess dying in the upper floors. They were just ordinary men; perhaps when royalty died, the whole world watched with baited breath.

There was no wailing from the suite; that was a woman’s weakness and her freedom. Men like the Duc grieved in shadow and silence, as always. But even Rukov was perturbed by the distinct lack of anything whatsoever happening behind the door. There was not a movement, not a sound, not a whisper, not a cry.

The deathly quiet lasted thirty minutes.

Dimitri unlocked the door, and he was fine.

***

Dimitri knew the schedule of a grieving father consisted mainly of not meeting anyone at all for any reason short of the outbreak of war, if even that. Thus he did not try to approach Edouard or Isabella, although he sent a letter of his deepest condolences. He had written it early in the morning, but there was no doubt it was already buried under a flood of sympathetic letters from the court.

There would be the funeral arrangements, diplomatic invitations to send out, rooms to prepare, coffin...

So much to do, and he did not have to do it. The royal staff would handle it, most likely. This was not fifteen years ago—Dimitri was no longer personally responsible for the young Princess. It hurt more than he realised it would; he adjusted his cravat and stepped into the Grand Dining Room.

Breakfast was being served, the silver gleaming brightly against everyone’s black dress. An anxious murmur drifted low in the big room, like heavy mist pooling its words around his feet. He felt as if he were walking through a swamp, so hard it was to move through the whispers; but move he did, looking for an empty seat.

______

((Approachable! ...Until he notices Mercy... or vice versa. The reason he didn't yet was because everyone's dressed in black today, and he's distracted today--and a man at that!))

"Duc d’Lorraine," the voice was quiet and subdued. Fortunately she had sat against a wall not too far from the door so she could be quiet and still draw his attention. She bowed gently to him and placed her black fan by the plate to show she was not finished with her breakfast.

"You look well upon this sad morning." Her voice cut through an ocean of silence previously only rippled only by whispers. Mercy was a woman who grief sadly suited, it brought her to a place that made her composed and quiet and caring. The side of Mercy people rarely recognised due to their strong feelings over how she spoke to or of others on occasion. Mercy perhaps may have taken time to concider this, if her feelings of sadness were not so strong for a woman who had made foolish choices in life but had fought so hard in death, the woman who was not her mother, the husband who was not really hers and the father who seem, at times to be a complacent father at best. Such confussions were what made Mercy act so composed and quiet that fine day, pensive perhaps was the word. But for that moment she needed to concider other things and dimitri was quite a pleasant thing to concider in Mercy's view.

Roseline >> Grand Dining Room
 

Roseline woke unusually early, lifting her tired body out of her bed. To the surprise of her servants who had grown accustomed to having to rouse her in case she were to miss the morning announcements, she had already drawn the heavy velvet curtains that hung over the windows to see the last of the snow that had been lying over the palace grounds had disappeared when Louisa, her maid came in, but the look upon the young woman’s face made Roseline start.

“What is it?” She asked quickly, although the rumours flying around the Court yesterday that the Princess’ condition had deteriorated rapidly left Roseline anticipating what came from the girl’s lips next.

“The Princess passed away early this morning, Baroness.” She told her sadly, causing Roseline’s face to drop. Although it was likely all the time the young Princess had been ill, the whole country believed that she would, eventually get better. The news that she was no longer with them was a shock, such a young girl and always so … alive. It would be a sad day in Court that such a tragedy had befallen the Royal Family, such death within the Family, so often out of grasp from the normal courtiers, made them seem more … human.

A short time later, and Roseline was dressed in a beautiful, but for the most part plain black mourning dress. She had little occasion before to have to wear the dress, and even less to wear it in mourning for someone she had actually cared about while they were living. Even though Roseline, for the most part hadn’t liked the Princess – personality-wise. She had been just a little too wild for Roseline to like her; she knew how her death would affect people who she did like and for that reason, the mourning dress seemed more appropriate than when her spiteful childhood ‘friend’ passed away in childbirth. Of course everyone still believed that the two of them were best of friends then, so Roseline was forced to go along with the charade of actually caring that the girl was no longer with the world.

Roseline finally exited her suite, leaving Louisa and another young maid to talk in quick whispers while going about their work. The corridors were almost deserted, and for the most part silent as the only whispers came from the lips of the Palace servants gossiping or sharing their stories of the Princess.

Roseline paused outside the Grand Dining Room, about to get some breakfast but hated the silence so much she didn’t think that she could bear to sit, and comfortably eat in the pressing silence that hovered over the whole Palace in this time of sadness. Finally, she entered the large room, intent on leaving once she had eaten as much as possible without making this corset feel even more uncomfortable, which, truthfully was very little, and then escape – although she was hesitant about braving the outdoors, because although the snow had left it was likely to still be fairly cold.

She crossed the room slowly, giving Baroness Flight, and the Duc d’Lorraine a quick nod and paused, but for a second to almost whisper a polite, “Bonjour” before heading a short distance away to lift some bread and sit to eat it.