Morning Address - Day 4
 

((OOC: Eeek! Sorry about the delay guys!))

“The King speaks.” Came the usual words from Edouard as he took his place upon the usual platform in the Grand Salon. His features giving away the fact it had been a long night riddled with worry that just passed. Indeed, Adalita was not improving yet. Every day that passed with no signs of improvement took its toll upon his usually authoritive face. “Duc d’Cognac.” He called out for Felix to make his whereabouts known. “The Duc d’Lorraine has brought it to my attention that he deems you most worthy of a reward for superior service to our kingdom. You are granted with a gift of 18,000 livres. May you continue to serve us well.” With those short words, and no scandals to deal with he offered his arm to his Queen and the royal family made their exit.

Isabella
 

After Mercy left the Salon, Isabella sat in quiet reflection for a few moments, her mind combing through Mercy’s words. She would have to see what she could find out about the apparent rumor that had reached Baroness Flight’s ears. For now she would push it out of her mind, and return to her suite.

Once in her suite Isabella sat under the careful tentative hand of Margret. She discussed with her the possibility of someone in the palace watching her. First Duchess Marie seemed to magically find out about her relationship with Octavien and now Baroness Flight hinted to it as well. It was rather upsetting. So much so apparently it made her stomach turn, uncomfortable with the thought.

After her hair had been let down entirely she lay upon her bed, with her eyes closed she felt at peace. Unintentionally Isabella drifted off to sleep. It was a skimming sort of sleep, one that never seemed to envelope you totally, always threatening to flee at the first threat of sound or commotion. Despite the fact, Isabella laid peacefully on her bed for some time, unaware of the passing of afternoon into evening.

Sometime during the evening Isabella was startled awake by a knock on the door. When Giles appeared at the door way, Isabella scrambled to get to her feet. How could she have let the night fall without visiting or sending for Octavien? She had assumed there would be no lesson tonight, and quite honestly she wasn’t keen on the thought of going to his room given the matter that was brought to her attention today. But despite all of that she had every intention of passing the night with him, one way or another.

Her mind willed it, however her body did not allow it. No sooner had she stood and walked a few yards her servant maids ran to her side to assist her as a sudden dizzy spell set upon her. One could see the concern on her maids faces. With Adalita’s sickness everyone was worried that perhaps the Queen had caught something during her times by the girl’s side. Isabella of course knew better, which was of absolutely no consolation. Had she eaten something that didn’t sit well? Or even more horrifying was the idea of whoever poisoned Adalita managing to get to her. Whatever the case may be, it was certain she would be spending her time right where she was. In her room, and in her bed.

Giles was sent back to his Master with the message of the Queen’s regret, and the information of her not feeling well that evening. It pained Isabella to do that, but really she had no choice. With the passing of some time, her servants managed to get her into her bedclothes before she returned to the comforting embrace of her bed. As long as she lay still, her eyes closed and silence filling the room she was okay. Just before she drifted off to sleep once again Giles had come to her door. This time passing something delicately wrapped to Margret who swiftly brought it to Isabella.

She watched as Margret unwrapped the small package, her face lighting up as she saw it was a single red rose with a note. As she held the paper in her hands, reading his handwriting brought a smile to her face, and warmth in her heart. It was a gesture so simple and yet so heartfelt that it would melt even a heart of ice. With the rose placed gently on her bedside table, Isabella finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

With the coming of morning Isabella awoke, no longer feeling ill in even the slightest of ways. It had been an odd night, to say the least. Though the sickness had passed, she could not shake the curiosity as to what had caused it. She intended then to send for Duc d’Cognac as soon as the morning announcements were through. She had been surprised she had not heard from him the day prior. Though certainly a traitor in their midst was not an easy person to track down, he had always proved most resourceful when pressure was adequately applied.

The royal family once again stood in the Grand Salon, without Adalita. Isabella listened intently as Edouard called for Felix to make his position known. Soon he revealed that Duc d’Lorraine thought his actions were commendable. Isabella found herself hovering between satisfaction with herself and curiosity with Dimitri. Had he let it slip to Edouard the details of why he thought Felix was deserving of a reward? Edouard had never been one to ask for details on her recommendations, she doubted he would require such things from his old friend who he trusted with everything.

After the announcements had been concluded, she dispatched a servant to fetch Duc d’Cognac right away. She would be waiting in her Salon for him.

((OOC: That's your cue Haylifer!! Hope to see Felix in action again! ))

Warmth - General and... Continual?
 

Mercy frowned in the decided way of most 4 year olds, "well I suppose, Dimitri, I shall have to shan't I?" She was feeling rather good that evening and gentle teasing seemed right. Was that strange? Mercy had done it before among Gentlemen, without titles, both here and abroad. She had even had a go at the English aristocracy, but as soon as a man of wealth with a ticket to exotic lands had come along Mercy had turned to him, and dropped the teasing which he didn't enjoy to replace it with gentle massaging of his ego, well actually, it hadn't exactly been gentle. So perhaps she was just returning to the Mercy of Days gone by. One she had never had reason to wake from it's slumber until now.

She had felt strangely awkward when leaving him, the plaque still in his hand. She bowed as was customary, this time with some sincerity and then with a quick glance around she had moved closer, it was then she lost courage however and kissed his hand, this she accompanied with an impish smile. Even if he had suspected she was to someting else she had a little confidence that he would be thrown.

__________


She was feeling particularly youthful today, clearly, as she had chosen a long flowing pale pink dress the attention she paid during the address was minimal. Dimitri had some reason to be intrigued by Duc d’Cognac? Well she needn't know why i mean idle gossip, is only idle gossip. She located her small black pocket book, tales of courtiers gone by. She smiled brightly, the court gossip was finish she decided, she threw the book up in a high arc it spalshed down into the water... It floated on the fountain surface for a while before bubbling to the bottom.

With a certain feeling of satisfaction Mercy walked back up to the castle to find a man who could procure for her a name plaque for her rooms, it would serve as a reminder to the rest of the court as to her name. Mercy Venn.

((Bit blah blah but it felt right so I typed it.))

((Simple his servants got their revenge from beyond the grave Anyway so sorry to see you go! Good luck in life, love and war... well you know what i mean.

We are running low on courtiers now could this be a sign? Mmm... perhaps i'm just in a mood again.

And finally I will be quiet for a while (shockingly I can do that!) back to school tomorrow and there are prospects of exam re-sits. Sadly when evolution made us intelligent it made us so intelligent we want to test each others intelligence.... Ah well :lovestruc EvolutioN :lovestruc it's all cool really.))

((Thanks Shenan Felix needed a lead back into things, he went off to celebrate and got lost on the way home lol. I've been dead all week and I'm still a bit sick but I'll RP tomorrow as soon as I can. Then I'll kick my lazy muse into action, promise :D))

((Ok it seems it's all gonna be more work than I thought, and I have to admit I am considering leaving you all at S2C for good. It just doesn't feel like home anymore thanks to one individual in particular who shattered my dellusions to protect their own.

I shall have a descision for you soon, be it a simple deletion of this post or the exit of my darling Mercy flight.

Of course nothings final yet but still, sorry all. Particularly you Seiza! Your writing inspired me and I must admit Dimitri is what is making me hesitate about leaving, you have a supreme tallent for writing. Something I both admire and envy. But what can I say? I'm a scientist not a novelist, sad as it may be! Yes I hope if I do leave Dimitri will continue and even if he can't, that you will join another roleplay, here or somewhere else and keep giving your beautiful writing to the world. Afterall beautiful written works are a vital form of art. Art is, of course, something deep and meaningful showing the most brilliant parts of the mind of its creator. And you clearly are brilliant.

Fly high, Smile bright and Realise your brilliance Seiza!

Yours, most Sincerely,

Fayreview))

((Fay... I've sent you a PM. I sure hope Mercy won't be leaving us. I need her!
Hay... Where's Felix?? Isabella needs him!
Everyone... Afternoon was supposed to be called today, but I'm delaying some. I don't want to push the RP on when the flow isn't there. So everyone who has not been active, please, fell free to post and lets see what our Characters come up with! ))

((OOC: Hey guys I am back. I am so sorry for not posting for a long time, but school and drama took over my life and I havent had time to sleep never mind type lol. Could someone do me a huge favour and just pm what has happened so far, just the big events so i can catch up. I am going to say that Fleur has been ill for however long i have been gone and has only just fully recovered))

Octavien - night/morning
 

(((ooc: Fay - I second Shenan's statement. But you knew that already. )))


The night that had passed had seen the young Prince in quite a few different states of mind. Even though he had spent the evening on his own, Gilles occasional presence being the only exception, the day that had led up to it had been quite eventful, and given him alot to think about. First and foremost, Mercy Flight and her threats. Where before he'd felt nothing less than a polite friendliness for the woman, there now stirred something darker. Something that had been awakened by a certain Marquess, and caused Octavien to rid himself of that particular threat to himself and Isabella. That very same protective instinct was calling out to him again, to teach the nosey Baroness a lesson she would not soon forget, to show her that one did not threaten Octavien, Prince or not, and get away with it.
There was only one thing that held him back, that kept him from unleashing the most cunning and vicious part of his mind, and that was the fact that he believed Mercy had been blinded by her concern for Isabella, and acted like such a fool because of it. A fool, not only because she had threatened to kill him, but because she had threatened to keep the secret safe only if he did as well, and didn't mention their little 'talk' to the Queen. It seemed she had overlooked that if he was to go against her wishes, and mention it to the Queen, Mercy breaking her own silence to the public would not hurt Octavien as much as it would hurt Isabella; the person she was supposedly protecting. If that happened, not only would she risk Isabella's possible disfavour for threatening Octavien, she would also fall from grace entirely by revealing a secret that was not only Octavien's, but Isabella's as well.

Still, right now, Octavien had decided to say nothing to Isabella. Not to protect himself from Mercy, but to protect Isabella from worry she certainly did not need, and to give Mercy a chance to realise and recognize his benevolence towards her. Though first, she would need to realise her mistake, and the fact that he had noticed it as well.

Then there was the Duc, the second surprise of the day, and the pleasant one at that. Given what Isabella had had to say about him earlier, Octavien had been wary of him, and expected him to be strict and rigid. But while at first he had been, he hadn't been particularly cold, and then as the topic of Octavien's family and heritage came up, he seemed to have actually relaxed. That, in turn, had loosened the ropes that the recent bitterness had tied around Octavien's own usually endearing charm, and they had ended up having a most pleasant conversation.
When finally Dimitri had left the Prince's suite, Octavien was once again in a fairly good mood. Still somewhat wary - as recent experience had taught him that no matter how friendly and agreeable people seemed at first, they could eventually turn out to be snakes - but in a good mood.

Last but not least, there had been Isabella's message, that she was not feeling well, which had thrown him right back into a more sombre mood. It was a message that had left him not knowing what to think. His first thought had been of Adalita, and the illness that was ravaging her body. Was it trying to claim Isabella as well? Was she laying in her suite, in her bed, looking but a pale ghost of what she once was?
Then, something occured to him. Had she really thought it was the same illness, had she even had reason to think that it was, she wouldn't have settled for just a message that she wasn't feeling well. She would've forbidden him to even come close to her... wouldn't she...? Out of concern for him? Considering the concern she had admitted to feeling when she'd heard there'd been an attempt made on his life, it didn't seem unlikely.
Then again, perhaps it was just the reasoning of a man clinging to straws. But it did manage to ease his mind a bit.
Until something else occured to him; a woman claiming that she wasn't feeling well... More often than not, when such an excuse was given, there was something more to the story. Octavien knew. While he had never been subjected to such an excuse himself, he had occasionally been the reason for one, when mistresses of his had kept their husbands out of their bedroom, in favour of a visit from Octavien. And there was that side of him where the last shreds of doubt still lingered, that he was her only one. The presence of Felix, the former comte and now duc, had him on edge, even despite what Isabella had said about never having gone to bed with the man.
The same went for that blasted conversation with Baroness Flight. It too had made Octavien somewhat paranoid. Could it be that she was behind Isabella not wanting to see him this evening? Had she spoken to Isabella about what she had spoken about with him, and somehow tried to sway Isabella's feelings away from him? Was that why she hadn't wanted him to mention the conversation she'd had with him, to Isabella? So that she wouldn't risk having the two of them discover what she was trying to do, and turn against her?
If so, she was playing a far more dangerous game than he'd first thought.


He had wanted to go over to Isabella's suite, to see her, to find out, but Gilles had held him back, claiming that while he hadn't spoken to the Queen, he had caught a glimpse of her on the bed, and it had indeed seemed that she was alone, and not feeling all that well. Reluctantly, Octavien had resigned, but not fully settled. He wanted her to think of him. For some reason, he felt he even needed her to.
Thus, Gilles had been dispatched again, this time with a note, and orders to fetch a rose from the orangerie, and deliver them both to Isabella's suite. Just like last time they could not spend the night together, Octavien still wanted to somehow show his affection.


After that, another night of little to no sleep had followed. Mostly, the young Prince had just tossed and turned, going over the possible reasons for Isabella's message in his head, again and again, and never getting anywhere.
When morning came, it was nothing short of a blessing. Not only because it would give him something else to do than stare up at the canopy, but also because it would shed some light on Isabella's health.
Much to his relief, being escorted down to the Grand Salon for the morning announcement, she appeared to be her usual regal self. Back straight, head held high, faint, cordial smile on her rosey lips. A relief to see, and yet equally worrisome, as it only went on to support his other theories.

When trailing back out of the Grand Salon, behind her and the King, Octavien wanted nothing more than to somehow claim a few minutes alone with her. But, he realized that now was certainly not the time. And so instead, he had one of his servants fetch him his winter coat, and then ventured out into the frozen gardens, alone.


(((ooc: Sorry, kind of rushed, but hopefully fairly coherent. He's approachable though.)))

((Ok dear friends I am leaving S2C but as i took on a responsibility here at the court I shall hang on here. You are the only thread on this site that will get my attention on a regular basis it is sad but it is the best I feel I can offer.))

Announcement
 

((OOC: Fay, I'm glad to see that you're sticking around for us. *hugs*
Hay... where's Felix?? Isabella needs him!


This RP is by far my favorite, and I see it dwindling down, it’s almost heart breaking. I’ve been trying to think of ways to give it a little boost. I’ve taken ideas and suggestions and I’ve decided to allow participants to have two characters if they’d like to. There are however a few requirements.
1. Before creating a second character, you need to be actively participating with your first character. That is an absolute minimum of a post each section of the RP day for a real life month.
2. Those of us who have characters with power, (Seiza, Fay, myself), our secondary characters are not eligible for the advisor’s position.

I’ve done this in hopes of having more characters around to hopefully liven things up.

For anyone who is thinking of joining with their first character, I welcome you! If anyone has any questions please feel free to ask. Secondary characters need to have a complete application filled out.

Application - César de la Vallière, Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan
 

Name: César de la Vallière
Title: Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan (visitor)
Age: 23
Bio: Imagine for a moment the untitled Octavien Lahance, not yet a courtier at the Palace of Light and Air, as a cartoon character, with the classical angel on one shoulder, beseeching him to behave and be good, and a tiny devil on the other, constantly tempting him to be naughty and bad.
That tiny devil, would be César de la Vallière; Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan and one of Octavien's best friends since childhood. Good-natured, charismatic, and with eyes rarely lacking a spark of humor and mischief, the two years older César was the ringleader of sorts, of what one could call the late 17th century 'brat pack' - the circle of friends - that Octavien was part of before being sent to the court by his parents, to mature.

César is very much a man of his time, and his social standing. With his father having died a few years ago, he's now the man of the house and the estate, and the head of the family, consisting of his mother, his wife, and two (legitimate) daughters, whom he adores. He spends a great deal of his time on the favorite past times of the young and the wealthy, such as riding, horse racing, fencing, hunting, parties and balls, playing cards, visiting the opera and the theatre, etcetera, and despite being married at the age of seventeen - an arranged marriage, but not one he objected to, or even minded much - he's still a ladies man. However, he's not the kind of man to leave a woman's bed, never to return. The affairs he has are rarely 'one-time' things, and do not limit themselves to nothing but bedroom activities. Over the years, he's had a few select mistresses, to whom he keeps returning, and has only occasionally had brief flings. But even with his wandering eye, and even though his mistresses tend to end up rather well off - recieving gifts of money, dresses, jewelry and perhaps even a small mansion - he would never flirt with another woman or look at her excessively, while in the presence of his wife. Despite his affairs, he does love her - her wits, her passion, her beauty, not to mention the firey temper that he so loves to tease - and he will never spend too many nights in a row away from her bed. He simply believes it's a man's privilege to have a mistress or two. Still, he might have a tendency to neglect her and take her for granted every now and then. They are married after all, and so in a way he's already and always entitled to her, whereas a mistress isn't bound to him by anything but interest alone. Thus, Josephine might not recieve as many and as romantic gestures as her rivals.


Picture:

((It is brief but it is mother's day and I haven't even had a chance to read your magnificent post Atropa, despite several refernces to you-know-who. But I shall! You have my word!!!!!))

Mercy decided perhaps the doorman was her best bet and so after her lengthy discussion, intertwined by some flirting with the man, who looked like a man of about Dimitri's age with a slightly harder life, with wrinkles and slight bags under her eyes. She understood her reluctance to Say he'd had a much harder life. After all one could not miss the marks on Dimitri's strong face, but they added character so she, personally, did not mind. And did she really even have a right too?

She walked away with a polite smile and a solid knowledge she would never forget the mans name again, it seemed the doorman was actually a Josephe himself. Her blues settled back on the fountain into which her pocket book, she had hurled. Searching for a sign of existance. She could find none, and that was a good thing. She was at peace. My that sounds ghastly she thought. I am NOT dead... Much to some peoples dismay. She allowed her eyes to trail around the gardens in search of a bench that would not, when the wind picked up, be sprayed by the fountain. She saw one in the sun light infront of the hedge maze and having no serious plans for this day she headed there to bask in the winters day....

Application - Marie-Elisabeth Valois
 

So glad to have you slytherin!! Your character seems well thought out. Maybe now Felix will come out of the woodwork!

OOC: Thank you I would've felt out of place if didn't think her through right, the writing level in here's kind of intimidating!

She sort of took on a life of her own so it wasn't too hard to flesh out :D

Application- Joséphine de la Vallière, Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan
 

Dimitri - Main Hall
 

That morning, Duc Dimitri-Josèphe watched quietly in the back of the Grand Salon while the King presented the Duc d’Cognac with a certificate of 18,000 livres. He had been right to consider his suggestion through the night—Edouard hadn’t wasted time consulting him over suitable candidates for Mollier’s old position. One day was clearly not enough to make any concrete opinions, particularly when much of it had been spent in the company of the very royalty he was serving.

Nevertheless, the Queen’s words proved to him that the Duc d’Cognac had done one of his duties to his king and country. No doubt she would have him greatly rewarded in secret, but in this way...

Even if Edouard wasn’t aware of his daughter’s poisoning, he was unknowingly rewarding the man who was, in some way, avenging her. He thought the King would like that.

Nonetheless, Dimitri could not excuse himself: he had made a suggestion that was not necessarily with the intention of choosing the next Advisor. The Duc d’Cognac had indeed rendered the country a great service, but that alone did not prove him adequate for the position. Dimitri could not shake off the ill feeling that, if he was correct, such reconnaissance had been done under the Queen’s secret orders. Was that truly the mark of a man meant to have the King’s ear?

And so the rest of the morning was spent meeting other aristocrats, renewing old ties long forgotten (and some he would much rather forget entirely). Through breakfast with a Comtess and conversation with several nobles on a balcony overlooking the forests, Dimitri had been watching, analysing, probing. They were all very young, spoiled, haughty. There was plenty problematic about these candidates, problems that the young eventually had beaten out of them by the Rod of Life; but nothing particularly outstanding about their characters. He must have forgotten half of them by the time he left the balcony, and it was already afternoon.

Yesterday had been a most exhausting day in some ways, but utterly slow in others. He couldn’t think of a moment when he hadn’t held a glass of wine or a biscuit in his hand.

This, obviously, would not do. He was two years shy of living half a century on this sordid earth, but that did not mean he could allow himself a magnificent bulge like many of his contemporaries. Dimitri crossed the Grand Staircase, heading to the Great Hall for a bout of practice. Perhaps he would find a driven, passionate, ambitious young man at fencing.

______

((slytherin-girl, Marie sounds awesome! I can't wait to see her in action. If she's just arriving and you need a place to come in, Dimitri's totally approachable at the moment. He's anywhere between the Blue Salon and Great Hall--basically, anywhere in the main hallway.

[EDIT] And now Ghanima's here too! *explodes from excitement* Oh, and I think it's best to allow the secret to be discovered via RP. Keeps things in suspense! My two cents. ))

((OOC: *claps* Yay! So glad to see you Ghanima! I can't wait to see RPs for our three newest characters!

I'm going to try to get an RP up later today, but I can't make any promises. Real life has kind of taken a toll on me right now. Hay, I don't know what to do about Felix not coming at the Queen's request. Let me know if you have something in mind.))

Comtesse Marie-Elisabeth Valois
 

Dimitri & Marie - Main Hall, Grand Hall, big empty space at the Grand Staircase :P
 

His path to the Great Hall—and hypothetically, just possibly, to a young man who was ambitious enough to be the King’s Advisor—was intercepted by a woman. She was young (that was becoming less of a surprise with every passing hour in Edouard’s palace), demurely holding a fan in one hand. It was clear even to a man like Dimitri that the fan matched perfectly with her expensive dress, which complemented the shade of azure flowers in her hair. It was the sort of flawless compatibility that only women of certain means could achieve.

“Good afternoon Monsieur” she said, curtsying politely to him.

‘Monsieur’. She was a newcomer.

But that was something of a relief, for the Duc did not recognize her either. He only needed one long stride to cover the distance between them. Within that one move, he had adjusted the pale cream cravat at his neck, flattened his coal-coloured cloak, and did nothing to his hair, for it remained perfectly tied in a dark gold ribbon; everything about him was strictly placed, including his arms as he bowed politely.

Dimitri gestured to take her empty hand to kiss if she would so allow it. “Good afternoon, Mademoiselle. I am Duc Dimitri-Josèphe d’Lorraine.”

He privately thought the whole business of titles to be a trifle annoying, quite useless in certain conditions. But court protocol could not be broken. If the lady was of lower rank than he—and he thought, not with boastfulness but with the blandness of making obvious statements; that it was most likely she was—it would be to her detriment to call him “Monsieur” before other nobles.

“I do not believe we have met. Did you just arrive today?”

Something about her—the fan, perhaps, or the crafty arch of her brow—told Dimitri he should know her. Had they met at some point before...?

_____

((slytherin-girl, I believe this is one RP that likes long posts so no worries.

littlesunshine, I'm not sure how much updating you need but the only public event was that Felix was rewarded by the King for "great service to the country". Some other private stuff happened: Mercy threw her black book in the fountain (which is just totally, like, dying to be discovered by someone <.< >.>), and Dimitri found out that the Princess was poisoned.

[EDIT for below] Kekeke, well, maybe certain suspicious remnants of the ink will remain...

Kidding. I totally forgot that the ink back then was nothing like our ballpoint inks now. XD There's still potential in this though! *puts on scheming cap*))

((By all means discover it if someone feels they would like to see that side of Mercy but I was very careful to say it was tales of courtiers gone by, shall we say it is the...... first volume? And therefore whilst it will reveal to you the true nature of Mercy Flight/Venn it will only give you an incite into the backstory I have typed up somewhere on this PC. Hmm I should find that, i even have a complete family tree somewhere ))

Isabella
 

Isabella sat in her Salon, waiting for Duc d’Cognac to enter, to report on the task she had given him to do. Her eyes wandering the room, she was soon lost in thought. So much was going on at the palace, so many pokers in the fire. She would have to do what she had to do to take care of them all.

Soon she was startled back to reality when a servant came through the door, a most somber of looks attached seemingly permanently on her face. “Pardon me your majesty…” the girl began meekly. She soon explained that she was sent by the royal physician to fetch her. Though Isabella’s posture remained tall and royal, a forboding veil settled over her as she made her way to Adalita’s side.

Once in the room, the doctor informed Isabella that he did not expect the young girl, that was once so filled with life, to make it through the night. Though Isabella had never particularly felt motherly towards the girl, her heart cracked with pity for her.

If she indeed had less than 24 hours of breath within her, Isabella would stay by the girl’s side.

((OOC: As some people already know, I kind of have a lot of **** going on in my personal life right now. Isabella is parked by Adalita’s side right now so no one is waiting on me to RP and Isabella’s not being obtrusive. If Octavien or Dimitri wants to be in Adalita’s room, by all means you’re welcome, and you could bring Edouard with ya. But please just have Isabella quiet and thoughtful. I’m doubtful I’ll be able to interact with ya. I’m still around to check on the RP and answer questions and PMs. I just can’t RP right now.))

Comtesse Valois et le Duc d’Lorraine
 

Comtess Emmeline Bouchard ~ Application
 

Felix
 

((Finally I'll make a post! I'm not promising anything great, my muses have taken ill or something Hello new characters, you all look awesome, and welcome back GeeWay!))

I'd been working for around fourty minutes now, a record high for me no doubt. Looking down at the parchment before me, only one name had been messily scratched in. My prowess in writing was as poor as ever, but that didn't matter right now. Princess Adalita had been poisoned by her ex-lover, who had contacts inside this castle. And I, being the only courtier foolhardy enough to discover this fact, now bore the task of stumbling across the traitor in question. Why did I not explain calmly that these things only happen to me by chance, that it's not my fault I'm so good at these things? The sooner all this.. drama.. was out of the way, the sooner I could hit the town once again for some Felix-style indulgence. I absent-mindedly chewed on the end of the peacock feather quill as I imagined merry scenes of beautiful women, good weather and plenty of real food instead of this Palace cuisine, which was far too rich for my liking.. A few strands of feather pulled off in my mouth and stuck to my throat, causing me to cough and splutter them all over the incriminating parchment. Oh blast it, why am I bothering with this? I scrunched the thick parchment into a ball and tossed it onto the fire, watching as it turned the suspects name to cinders. If only things were that easy. And surely there was a better person for the job than me; just because I was popular and nosy did not make me a private investigator by any means. I forced myself to stand - this idle musing was no way to work; I'd be here a lifetime if I didn't leave my room and do some proper searching.

But I needed a herring, a starting point or something. William must have had correspondance with the traitor, so there might be a chance someone had seen the two talking. Or at the very least, seen letters signed from William or noticed a servants marked absence from court. I needed a witness.

"Pierre?" I called, clicking my fingers to summon him from the shadows, or sewers, or wherever he lurked in his spare time. I explained the mission to Pierre, watching his beady black eyes flicker about. Anyone else would probably have found this suspicious behaviour; after all, Pierre was a servant inside the palace. But the man always acted like this, so I discarded it as nothing. Anyway, the man didn't even have access to Adalia's quarters, or so I hoped.

"I need you to find out who did it. Interrogate some of the Princess's servants maybe, I'm sure you'd only have to ask them if they knew of anyone named William. They can't be that intelligent, they're only servant girls after all."

"How does my Duc suggest I find these.. servant girls?" drawled Pierre, that irritating undertone of contempt in his voice as usual.

The man had a point. He couldn't lurk around the women's chambers like some silent predator, nor could he corner them anywhere near the Princess's suite. There was only one thing for it; I'd have to do it myself. Let's just say I wasn't an uncommon face around the servant girls boudoirs, and nobody would bat an eyelid if they saw me slip through the bedroom doors. Or rather, they'd bat their eyelids a lot more if I paid them a sneaky midnight visit tonight. And in the meanwhile I could be writing a letter to Monsieur Thenarde, the landlord of the local inn who knew everything about everybody's business. But I hadn't had the chance to even ink my peacock quill when a message arrived from Isabella, summoning me to her Salon.

I put the quill back down, partly thankful for the distraction as I left the room and headed over to the staircase. By some good chance, a chunky old maid happened to be bustling past me - a woman whom I was certain I'd seen before, though I couldn't remember where. Hopefully my deja vu was caused by seeing her plumping Adalita's pillows, or something of the like. I whistled as she bent down to pick up a pile of laundry; the comely lady blushed scarlet and scowled at me as she straightened herself up.

"Well well, Little Felix. Cheeky as ever, I see. But my you haven't half grown!"

I furrowed my brow at being called 'Little Felix' by some common maid, and was about to ask which girl had started that little joke when.. my mouth fell open in realisation.

"Nanny?" I gasped, as my childhood nurse scuttled towards me to pinch at my lack of fat and fuss over the state of my hair. "What are you doing back at the Palace? Ow!" I dodged a spit wet palm as she made an attempt to flatten my hair back into place.

"Shush, my duck. Look at the state of you, no wonder you haven't married and spawned your own wee ones yet. Now, Silvius on the other hand.. Hold still!"

"Nanny!"

"Oh very well. I came back here last month, my duck, because Nanny was to be needed again. She was told that someone was expecting a babby.."

I nodded enthusiastically. "That's right, that was the Princess. But then-"

"Yes my lad, let Nanny finish. When I finally get here - and travelling isn't good for a woman of my age - the wee royal ladything has taken terribly ill. So seeing as there's no babby to look after, they want me to care for the Princess in her state of delirious illness, God bless her." She paused, eyeing my waist "Are they feeding you properly around here? All skin and bone, you are. I've seen more fat on a-"

"I'm fit as a fiddle, Nanny, I swear. You're taking care of Adalita now?" I asked urgently. As delightful as the reunion with the fussy old goose was, there was no time to let her ramble on as I knew she would.

"That's what I just said, duckie, were you not listening? Twenty-four hours a day, I am. And to think, a woman of my age working so hard when I was hoping for a nice retirement to the country.."

Before the old woman could ramble on any more, I blurted it out. About Princess Adalita, about the traitor in our midst, and about how I had to find who it was. I told her about everything, all these little secrets that had been building up with no way of escaping. It was something of a relief to talk openly to someone I completely trusted, who would listen to me and console me about my worries. As I went into detail about that night in the inn when I overheard the plot, Nanny became a shade paler with each detail. I finished, and there was a moments silence as she thought over what I'd just said. Then, she erupted.

"Felix Peitou-Charentes, what in the Lord's name were you doing in such a.. notorious place? Monsieur Thenarde's Inn? Did you not have more sense? Duc or not, that inn is a.. a.. scum pit filled with social outcasts! Sailors, theives and criminals! What would your mother think, God rest her soul? Oh what would she think? And Nanny wasn't there stop you.. Oh dear.." For the second time, her wide face was now a deep red, and she was breathing heavily. I pouted in retaliation to the attack.

"Monsieur Thenarde's inn provides some excellent company.. I haven't got time, Nanny! Did you not see anything suspicious when you arrived here? Anything at all?" Nanny appeared to ponder the idea for a few seconds, struggling to remember back to last month.

"There was one girl serving the princess. Pretty little thing, she was.. but silent as a nun. We all thought she was deaf, we did. And there was something very odd about her, very.. unbecoming. She needed a good feed, too. And she'd disappear every few days, we all said she was part of some secret heretical cult. And thinking that, nobody really wanted to get too close to her.." Nanny's eyes glazed over again as she became lost in her senile thoughts. "What was I saying, my duck?"

"Is she still there? Let's go to the Princess's room right away, I need to speak to her."

"Is who still there, my duck? You can't speak to the Princess, lad.. or you won't get an answer if you try. Nanny has tried a few times. Dumb as an old donkey." The old lady started humming as she folded the sheets back into piles. "And Her Majester the lovely Queen was visiting her, last I saw. Though my eyes aren't what they used to be-"

"The Queen! Mon Dieu, Nanny, I was supposed to be going to see the Queen!" I quickly kissed the old woman on her whiskery cheek, and ran up the stairs as the cries of 'language, my duck!' faded behind me.

((Oh.. my.. God. Oops. Is this what's been pent up inside me for two weeks? A freaking NOVEL? I think I've had a case of creative constipation This is an absurdly long post, I've inadvertantly created a new NPC, and all to say 'Felix got up and went to see the Queen (who will not be there when he arrives, because he was late)'))

Dimitri & Marie - Main Hall
 

((Good to have you, GeeWay! It's a good thing Dimitri isn't very misogynistic-- there are more women candidates for advisor than men! XD ...Though Felix must be happy. :P))
_______


“I'm Comtesse Marie-Elisabeth Valois.”

The name rung a bell that her appearance had not—Dimitri recognised the Valois name immediately, if not intimately.

“I did indeed arrive just this very afternoon. It took me longer than I expected to depart from home since my young son was most distraught at my leaving. He's become very attached to me as of late, so I do hope I haven't offended anyone with my lateness or missed anything of importance.”

Dimitri chuckled. “Young sons are like that. Some never quite detach themselves from their mothers’ skirts.”

The Comtesse did not seem to recognise him yet. Indeed, she must think him rather brazen to make such light remarks over her own son, even if her upbringing stopped her from showing much displeasure.

“Pardon me, Comtesse de Valois, for not introducing myself more precisely. I am a friend of your late husband’s. We fought together in the War against those bothersome English, some thirty years ago.” She did not look as if she had even been born then! Charles certainly liked his wives young. Dimitri himself never saw much worth in a wife of such a prattling-prone age. Women in that age group tended to so much silliness, he felt the advantages of retaining such young wives fell sharply below the problems of keeping them fed, clothed and happy.

“I also had the honour and sorrow of attending his funeral.”

Comte de Valois hadn’t been quite a mentor to Dimitri, but he had been the sort of man other men liked to gather around and make merry with. The funeral had been galling to watch—it was as if he was watching his generation slowly fall away, like dried leaves in autumn, to be forgotten and replaced by spring’s younger, brighter, more ignorant generation.

After a suitable pause in respect of the Comte’s memory, Dimitri inquired, “Never did I predict to meet his dear wife in these very walls! What brings you to the Palace, my lady?”

Comtesse Marie-Elisabeth Valois
 

César and Joséphine (along with their daughters)
 

(((ooc: Ghanima - It was a splendid firt post. )))


It was a beautiful winter day afternoon. The landscape that passed by outside the window of the four-seated berlin coach the small family was travelling in, seemed almost radiant. Luminous sunlight reflected in the thin layer of lily white coating the trees and bushes, and the sky - what little César could see of it - was a bright, cloudless blue. The snow on the ground muffled the sound of the carriages and the trotting horses, and allowed peace and serenity to descend on each member of the travelling party. On the surface.
Inwardly there stirred an anticipation that while easily controlled by some, left others almost unable to sit still. Mainly the little two year old girl, Angélique, who seemed unable to decide whether she wanted to sit up close next to her mother, play on the floor of the carriage, or try to peek out the window in the hopes that for once there would be something besides trees to look at. Though her father, despite looking calm and relaxed with his head resting casually back against the seat, felt he was starting to grow equally stir-crazy. He was a restless young man, who would usually prefer days on the back of a horse over a few hours cooped up in a carriage. He simply didn't have the patience for it. But, it would hardly be becoming of a Marquis to arrive at court, riding by himself next to his magnificent berlin coach, on which he had spent a small fortune.

Good thing then, that he was not travelling alone, but along with his pretty wife, whose company he tended to enjoy immensly. Unlike most young women born into wealthy families, she was not a goose, and had more ambition and intelligence in her pinky finger than most of her peers would ever have in their entire body. Their idea of success was marrying into even more wealth, pop out a few babies, and then waste the rest of their days gossiping and spending their husband's money.
Joséphine on the other hand, took pleasure in challenging her mind, as well as César's. She wasn't afraid to show that she was not just an adornment on her husband's arm, and the producer of his heir (once their future son came along), but rather a highly skilled and witty conversationalist, and at the same time a demure young lady whose company one would find most pleasant, regardless of background, age and gender.
César probably didn't tell her often enough, but he was proud of her. As was he of the two beautiful daughters she had given him. They made quite a pretty picture, the four of them, and he was well aware that on more than one occasion, they had been the target of turned heads and jealous stares. Not least by his main mistress. A green-eyed beauty, in the double sense of the word, Athénaïs had at times attended parties where she knew César would bring his little family. Just to get a glimpse of her rival; Joséphine, César's wife, the woman she was trying to outmanoeuvre. Little did she know that even if César would consider ridding himself of Joséphine - a thought nothing short of alien to him - it would hardly be in favour of Athénaïs. While she too was a beautiful woman with the kind of sharp intellect that César appreciated, she was far more prone to throwing tantrums and sulking like one of his daughters when she didn't get her way. And she was greedy, and her favorite topic to talk about was herself. Which would eventually bore César; something he rarely experienced with Joséphine.

However, there were only so many hours one could fill with conversation before the topics started to return to ones already discussed, and it all became rather repetitive, and so for a while now, they had travelled mostly in silence, only occasionally breaking it when either of the girls demanded attention. Joséphine had lost herself in one of her many books - or so César thought - and he himself had rested his head back against the seat and watched the landscape that pulled away from him, as he was seated with his back to the direction in which they were travelling. He was watching the woods and the fields, assessing them with the eyes of a knowledgable landowner, and a hunter. From what he could see, it was a most beautiful province, with billowing slopes and vast plains and forests, and the game he saw was rich in numbers as well as in species. Even if the court turned out to be dull - which he highly doubted - the region in which it was located would have much to offer a man of César's preferences, qualities and abilities.

"Ah", came Joséphine's pleasanty soft voice suddenly in a slight sigh from the seat opposite of his, and he turned his head to look at her, only to be met by one of her small and endearing smiles. "Monsieur Molière's words simply refuse to captivate me today."

The book in her delicate hands closed, and she looked at him as though she knew he would take it as his cue to make some clever remark to amuse her, and perhaps get another session of their playful bickering started. For while she enjoyed the writings of Molière, César would often insist that the man was hopelessly pretentious, and his views on a woman's capacity far too optimistic. Though in truth, he enjoyed Moliere's work as much as she did, and only critized it like he did, to see her temper flare. And she knew it.

This time, however, he would not get a chance to try. The thrilled outcries of their two daughters stole his attention away from her, and a soft chuckle passed through his lips as he watched them struggle to get a better view of what could only be the Palace. César himself, with his back towards the direction they were looking, could not see it, but there was little else that would get them so excited.
Their mother too seemed to be amused by their antics, laughing softly as she tried to calm them and keep them from hurting one another - accidently or not - in their fight over the best position.

"Thank you," she said and looked at César with a warm smile gracing her lips. "For allowing them to join us. I've rarely seen them so happy."

It was a smile that was returned by one of his own dazzling ones, which then turned genuinly affectionate when his gaze landed on the two girl once again. Unable to keep from adding to their high spirits, like the jovial and loving father he was, he quickly snatched one of the daughters away from her mother's arms; Adèle, who happened to be closest to him at the time. With her giggle intermingling with his own soft laugh, he pulled her onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around her, to keep her from falling down. Or escaping.

"How could I not?" he said and looked at Joséphine with a widened smile. "I couldn't imagine going without them. Why, without their angelic little voices constantly ringing in my ears, I might've thought I'd gone deaf!"

With that, he planted a kiss loudly on Adèle's cheek, before inching closer to the window and allowing her as good a view of the Palace as her younger sister had, without having to fight her for it.

"Well then", he said, and looked at his young wife once again, still with a humorous smile playing on his lips. "In minutes we shall be setting foot on Palace grounds. To be perfectly honest, I think I dread the moment. If it turns out the rumours are true, and Octavien has indeed gone and made himself Prince of the kingdom, I will never hear the end of it, for as long as I live."

Indeed, it would be a brand new experience, for César, the Marquis, to have to bow and address his friend in a submissive manner. Octavien, who had always been far beneath him in rank, and recieved quite a few playful gibes over the years because of it. If the rumours were true, César would surely be made to eat his words.

Dimitri & Marie - Main Hall
 

((Fabulous, Ghanima, simply fab. A shame Josephine is just a visitor, but I guess married women couldn't hold such positions that the time.))
_______


If he could get a word in, the Duc would have agreed that a boy’s education shouldn’t be thwarted in any way. It was imperative for the young Charles, who would be seating at his father’s table, signing documents with his father’s stamp, negotiating with his father’s friends and enemies; and all, most likely, as soon as he came of age to do so.

Such a future was a horrific vision to Dimitri, whose youth had been spent in adventure, who hadn’t begun running his own until well into his mid-thirties.

But the Comtesse marched on, “But enough about that, my goodness no wonder Charles called me his little rambler. I haven’t even answered your question yet!”

“Pardon me for not denying the truthfulness of that statement,” he said wryly, but not unkindly. He did believe in the right of every parent to wear their mouths off talking about their children, and the burden of everyone else’s ears to be worn off listening to it.

“I’m really here to get a new start on life I suppose...”

“Ah, there is truth in your words as well,” he murmured. “Then allow this old man to offer you some advice, Comtesse. This is not the ideal time to start your new life in the Palace of Light and Air. The King still searches for a new Advisor to fill the—admittedly substantial—shoes of the late Duc d’Mollier. You must have heard, the search began some time ago.”

And even if she did not, all the more reason to know now. When competition began in the court—for the best horses, the most elaborate dresses, the King’s ear—everyone knew the end could only be ugly. And so courtiers powdered their noses and hair, and buried themselves in ribbons and breeches; to hide the ugliness that had so twisted them. Dimitri lifted a hand to his own scars: he could wear them with pride, knowing they had been collected outside this turgid court.

There were other dangers... but it was not the Duc’s place to babysit the courtiers. He thought himself being unduly kind already. Perhaps it was his history with the former Comte de Valois, or the knowledge of a young boy awaiting his mother’s return; perhaps something about that was making him kinder to this young woman today.

“It was the right decision, not to bring your child along. But I would suggest arming yourself with more than a fan.”

Comtesse Valois et le Duc d’Lorraine
 

Emmeline Bouchard ~ Entrance to Court
 

((OOC: Umm, I was just wondering if a late application could possibly be accepted... If so, which titles are available?))

((I want to do a new character. As well as Felix, of course. But I don't want to, because I'm an unreliable sod and I'll spam up the place with dead unposting characters. And also I no longer meet the requirements for bi-character-control xD But if I was to introduce one, I'm split between Nanny and another male.. just thought I'd post my idle ramblings))

((EDIT: :smash: Teh excess of OOC posting!))

((Heavens to Betsey! A new man will soon be coming this way. :D))

Dimitri & Marie - Main Hall
 

((Looking forward to your male addition to our court, Spoon! :howdy:

Wow, it's getting crowded at the Main Hall~))
______


“...I'm certain his Royal Highness is looking for an experienced, more worldly man for the position, not a young woman like me,” Comtesse de Valois sighed with a sentiment almost, one might say, bordering displeasure at the idea.

Dimitri did not want to dangle hope before her like some useless trinket, nor did he want to appear hypocritical. He himself particularly loathed offering Mollier’s position to anyone below thirty. But demographic realities were forcing him to admit Edouard looked, more and more likely, to be gaining an Advisor younger than himself, in age and experience. It was laughable, but so were life’s greatest tragedies.

Perhaps it was precisely that age and experience, and the wisdom thereafter, kept his own generation away from the Palace.

And so, with a smile that came more from biting into something sour and bravely trooping on, rather than any real approval; the Duc grudgingly admitted, “I would not say that just yet. The King seems quite open to having more... youthful energy in his government. You will understand once you have further acquainted yourself with our court.”

But would she even try? He watched her expression subtly, curious at the change this new information might bring. Many were the courtiers who arrived at the Palace specifically with their eyes on the position—yet the Comtesse was only here to “restart” her life, whatever that entailed. Would she be drawn into the fray nevertheless, carpeting the path upon which her fellow courtiers would tread on their way to the top?

The activity surrounding them was picking up, had been so for a while. Maids and footmen were lining up at the Palace’s entrance; a layer of muted, excited, indecipherable chatter floated like a fog above their heads. It did not rise above the sombre sorrow that permeated the days since the Princess’ illness—it did not dare—but arrivals always brought that spark to the staff eyes. Someone was coming—maybe even several ‘someone’s, judging by the increased number of servants gathering.

The Duc d’Lorraine and the Comtesse de Valois stood almost at the centre of the main hallway, almost like a welcoming pair receiving their guests in their abode. It was audacious, and hilarious, and Dimtri would have none of it. But just as he was about to offer his arm to the Comtesse to move both of them to the side, the doors swung open and the new arrivals were announced.

(((OOC: I'm going to be away for the weekend, so could you just Have Marie-Elisabeth leave? I trust you'll do fine with that Seiza, you seem to have a good handle on her )))

“Oh really, well that is certainly interesting news” she said, looking obviously interested in the news. Of course she kept most of the obvious excitement out of her expression but she couldn’t help a tiny smirk from making its’ way onto her face.

It was doubly interesting that the King was actually considering having a woman as his adviser. Something like that would certainly be a great opportunity, and Marie-Elisabeth could only imagine what kind of privileges would be offered to the adviser of the King. She made up her mind to pay more attention to the talk going around the palace, to see what she could find out about this interesting turn of events.

She had only intended to start her life anew, but could only dream of what kind of life would be had if she gained the apparently much coveted position. But the new arrivals were announced and that put an end to her musings. “Perhaps Duc dLorraine, it would be a good idea to continue our conversation at a later time. It appears to be getting quite crowded in the hall here and it would probably be best if we made ourselves scarce”.

Marie-Elisabeth curtseyed, smiled at him and said “I have so enjoyed talking to you though, I’m very glad I met you. I’ll have to mention you in my letter to my son, no doubt Charles mentioned you to him. He’ll probably be thrilled to hear I made your acquaintance”.

At the announcement, such a number of maids’ bodies bent sideways, leaning forward in greeting and expectation, that even Dimitri and the Comtesse were obscured from view. They immediately took this chance to bid their goodbyes.

“It has been a pleasure,” he simply said, watching her and her fan slide quietly into the depths of the palace.

He was tempted to follow her escape—greetings and welcomes were not his reasons to be here—but, Dimitri reminded himself, it was something of his duty to acquaint himself with all the courtiers in this palace. With the inactivity of the royal family, and the royal staff so clearly overwhelmed by more important matters; none was present to greet the newcomers. The servants assembled fidgeted like mice, working under no direction but depending on habit and long years of servitude.

He froze their twitching with a look; cut their murmuring tongues with a wave.

This unpreparedness was too obvious, utterly ill-fitting for the court of a King in any circumstance. It was a cruel thought, and he knew it; but Dimitri would have to talk with Edouard at some point...

He stilled his thoughts as the first arrivals entered.

______

((slytherin-girl: Done!

GeeWay, I wasn't sure if I should've moved Emmeline into the palace, so I leave it to you. Dimitri will just be standing there looking scary or sombre or something until any of the new arrivals step into the palace. :P))

Mercy saw carriages pulling up the drive, she fought inwardly over her instinct to be nosey.... Hmm well I do need to get inside before my skin darkens any further, It was not proper to have a dark complection for it would suggest she had need to do things for herself. She sighed social rules were so dull! She got up and wondered back towards the castle, the servants seemed to be in a complete panic about the new guests. She was getting almost Impatient enough to open the heavy front doors herself, when thankfully Josephe from earlier noticed her. She smiled brightly at him as he opened the door, If she was better titled she'd approach the group of people wandering about but a Baroness would not.

She wondered about where she should go next, and why her highness was not here greating these new guests, when she saw much to her delight that Dimitri was holding down the fort. She gave a well placed bow, "good day Duc" she smiled at him. They were in public so 'Duc' would have to do, she knew he was busy so she stayed at a reasonable distance, in case anyone desired the direction of a female as opposed to Dimitri who she imagined would appear quite intimidating to those of weaker spirit.

She distracted a more important servant to make sure rooms were made up for the impending visitors and to assertain directions so she could be as helpful as possible. She tried a warm smile, but couldn't help feeling herself drawn ever so slightly closer to Dimitri she wasn't sure what it was but she fought it and hed her distance, she did not want to look inproper afterall!

{{OOC: You can move her anywhere. I don't mind some Godmodding. So long as it's not serious stuff. Moving from room to room or something like that is fine}}

Emmeline and Arielé walked through the doors into what appeared to be the main hall. It was crowded, and Emmeline felt Arielé's hand slip out of hers, as she retreated behind her. The child loved meeting new people, but the amount of people here overwhelmed her. She pulled her out from behind her and assured her everything was alright. Knowing that, she tried to slip off and explore, but Emmeline kept a firm grip on her hand. The palace was very large, and she was afraid of here getting lost. She'd take her with her when she was getting her own bearings. She took another few steps, and then paused, unsure of who to talk to, or introduce herself too.

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.

César de la Vallière
 

The Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, César de la Vallière, during his rather young life, had made himself known for many things; for the talent with which he managed his fortune and his estate, for being a skilled marksman, for his charm and his charisma, for having a most beautiful little family, but also for being a rascal, for his adventures and the headaches he and his friends caused, and for his romantic achievements outside of his marriage.

One thing he had never been known for, was for being an early riser. Unlike his friend Octavien, he was rarely seen leaving his chambers, or someone else's for that matter, before the sun was well on it's way of crossing the sky.
However, as every rule has it's exception, so did this one.

It was the morning after his and his family's arrival at the court in the Palace of Light and Air, and he was stirred awake by the same kind of restlessness that had been eating away at his patience and his ability to stay still during the previous and very long day of travelling. He was in a new place, in the very court of the kingdom, and he was eager to start exploring his new surroundings. Despite the late hour when he had finally drifted off to sleep, following a most passionate tête-à-tête with his lovely wife, he awoke feeling fully rested and invigorated. Although that wasn't something out of the ordinary, really. A night spent with a beautiful woman in his arms did tend to have that effect on him.

Leisurely stretching his limbs to bring them to life, he turned his head and looked at Joséphine, who was still sound alseep, nestled up close to him, with one delicate hand resting on his chest, along with a few of her long chestnut curls. She truly did have the face of an angel.
And the mind of a scholar.

He was a lucky man to have married her. It being an arranged marriage, agreed upon by the young couple's parents, César had feared that she would be some hideous harpy with the intellect of a pigeon. Or some bland wallflower who when on his arm would only detract from his own grandeur. After all, it was what had happened to a few aquaintances of his.
But, instead of a bride that made him want to dig his heels into the ground, or downright run in the opposite direction, he had been introduced to this young siren, with eyes alive and sparkling with intellect, and a vocabulary by far surpassing that of any other young woman he had met. Her mind was razor sharp, as was her tounge. And he loved it, and unlike most men, would encourage it, rather than frown upon it. Not to mention the fact that he had been one of the few men to actually see in her eyes just what she had in her. Most would just simply assume that there was nothing to be seen, and so wouldn't pay attention to it. But César... César had seen it there very first time they had met, and there had been plenty of times since then, when he had flat out provoked her, just to catch a glimpse of it.

However, this was not the full extent of his luck. Not surprisingly, Joséphine had had a great number of suitors, and so her parents could've easily decided that she was better off marrying someone else. To this day, César still wasn't quite sure why they hadn't, as the norm would've been to have her marry someone older and more experienced, and far less wild than César had a reputation for being at the time. And still was.

Yet, despite his adventures and his love of women, thrills and general mischief, he never strayed too far. Unless he was away in business, he was never missing from their marital bed for more than one night in a row. In fact, he was rarely missing from it for a full night ever, as even when he'd spent a few hours with another woman, he would usually return to sleep in his own bed, next to his wife.

All for one simple reason; he adored her. While most of his friends had thought that before long, he would've tired of his pretty wife, she had proven to have the ability to keep him interested. And it was not just because of her beauty. Beautiful as she may be, it was something that to men like César would in time get dull, and so what kept him being enticed by her, wass a perfect mix of her outer assets, and her inner ones. She was a challenge to him, in every way possible.
And she loved him.

Yes... César de la Vallière was a lucky man indeed. No one believed so more strongly than César himself.


These thoughts fluttering through his mind as he laid there, looking at the sleeping beauty by his side, he couldn't bring himself to wake her up. He knew the toll their journey had taken on her, along with the anxiety any young woman would've felt about making her first appearance at this court, and so instead of stroking her cheek or pulling her closer, just to wake her, he gently kissed the palm of her hand, before carefully lifting it off his chest, and placing it down on the warmth of where his own body had just been.


Wrapped in a dark red silk dressing gown, with delicate embroideries, he moved away from the large bed and into one of the adjoining rooms of the suite, to be fitted into one of his many and expensive outfits, with the help of his chamber servants, consisting of nothing but males and elderly women, of whom the latter used to assist Joséphine in dressing as well.
This was most intentional on César's part. He knew that Joséphine was most likely aware of his affairs, to some extent, even if they never spoke of it, and as he really did love her, he didn't want her to feel insecure and threatened by pretty young chamber maids in their own household, and so he had made sure that there simply were no such threats. Though he had never mentioned it to her, nor to anyone else.


It was while being dressed that he learned of the tragedy; that during the night, Princess Adalita had passed away. Staring at the servants at first, in disbelieving shock, he then suddenly snapped at them to finish dressing him already, as he needed to see Octavien. He needed to be there and to offer his support as one of the Prince's closest friends.
However, the servants dressing him then moved on to inform him that the royal family was not to be disturbed today, as they were spending this first day of mourning in private. Though while that did make César pause for a few more seconds, to stop and think, it ultimately did not change his mind. Octavien was Octavien, and regardless of title one of César's very best friends. There was no way César would let him suffer this terrible loss alone.
Granted, the young Prince did have his inlaws, the King and the Queen, but he had only been here for a few months, and so could hardly have gotten to know them well enough to not be self-conscious and worried about loosing his compsure in their presence.
Or so César thought.

Thus, once he was fully and properly dressed in a sombre, black outfit, lacking all the expensive flare he usually donned, he dispatched one of the servants with a message for Octavien, forwarding the condolences of the de la Vallière family, and a request for César to see him when and if he wished. Then he stood, and made his way to the Grand Dining Room, knowing that with the circumstances being what they were, it might take quite a while, hours even, before Octavien recieved his message, and so the only thing he could do at the moment, was to do what most everyone else was doing; go about the daily routine of sitting down for breakfast.

Upon entering the Grand Dining Room, he only stopped for a brief moment to let his eyes scan the few courtiers in there, before starting to make his way to one of the empty seats around the table. Not surprisingly there were a few faces that he recognized - most notably the duc d'Lorraine and duchesse Du Polingac, both of whom had attended a few of the same gatherings and parties as César, but to whom he had never been properly introduced - as nobility did have a tendency to come across one another sooner or later. But this was hardly the time for mingling, or drawing attention to himself with his usual jovial and lighthearted demeanor, and so the only greeting he gave to those who looked up, was a polite nod.


(((ooc: Hope no one minds what I've written. I just figured some of them would've happened to have crossed paths before, and so I just picked the ones who seemed most likely. So... yeah. Let me know if you want anything changed. Or if someone else wants their character to have met/come across César before.)))

Dimitri & Mercy - Dining Room
 

The Duc turned smoothly at Mercy’s greeting—too clear a voice to be subsumed by all these murky whispers. If he had been surprised, he did not show it.

“Bonjour, Baroness Venn,” he bowed to the seated woman. His voice was steady from use, having spoken with Rukov this morning about the silliest things: horses, women, the weather, agriculture et al. He would not venture in public with a voice that warbled and shook from grief. There was only the slightest gruff undercurrent, a mildly heavier sort from his usual rumble.

“As do you.” He gestured at the empty seat beside her. “May I?”

Was it insulting to look composed and “well” the night after a death?

Dimitri never figured it out, but he meant his words as he hoped Mercy meant hers: nothing more than an observation. She had a stilling calmness about her in a mass of handkerchiefs dabbing at mascara-running eyes. It made her a most tempting breakfast companion, for the Duc was in no mood to hand out long comforting sessions. He took death—any death, even Adalita’s, especially such females close to his heart—with the briskness of a soldier, and would await the rest when they were done.

A young woman passed them, whispering a polite to ‘bonjour.’ Dimitri nodded in return—he did not know her, but he had seen her in court several times. She did not have the extravagant beauty of the Queen, but she was pretty in the way few girls could be beyond their young age. It was the sort of beauty Dimitri could admire, for it was based on something age could not take away.

Rukov was not with him now, but he would surely know who she was. His manservant kept a dutiful check on all pretty blondes in the palace.

He joined Mercy after gaining her permission, shaking his head. “Ah, but I suppose the real question is how their Majesties are doing. The King has always been very fond of his daughter...”

He did not know how the Queen would react, so he did not venture to guess. The Prince, however, most assuredly had a friend among the courtiers—the new arrival, whom Dimitri now knew to be the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, for rarely any did other men attract so many fluttering fans and blushing giggles as he. Perhaps only the Duc d’Cognac, whom Dimitri did not see among the courtiers.

He raised one hand in far-away greeting to the Marquis, before returning to Mercy.

______

((Did I read that right? Rosaline and Adalita were friends, but no more? Ooooh... :mag:

[EDIT] I think you're right, Atropa! Must've misread "childbirth" for "childhood". Damn! *watches drama fly out the window*

And if anyone wants to join Dimitri and Mercy's table, go riiight ahead... should be wonderfully messy to have more than two people in a RP conversation. :D))

Mercy's chosen distraction chose to sit opposite her which was quite nice, he returned the pleasant comment she had made. She hooked the fan from the table into the black sash on her dress and smiled gently as a woman passed them "Morning, my dear Baroness Taylor."

She turned her green eyes back to Dimitri. “Ah, but I suppose the real question is how their Majesties are doing. The King has always been very fond of his daughter...” She waited until he had greeted a passing noble, Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan an interesting man by all accounts.

"I have a great deal of empathy for his Royal highness, losing your child in any manner is horrific but death is final." She added a well placed sigh. "The Queen will also be in a bad way, she worked so hard to help that young girl have the best future she could have, to sort out her worries. The lengths w-she went to were extreme." She changed her ming about saying "we" there was no need in letting dimitri know anything about her dealing with the Royal family, particularly in the plotting.

There was of course Prince Octavien, who would be sad, of course he would. He was a good boy and whilst he didn't love her, He would still grieve the loss of the life of someone so vibrant. Even if it did make him free, she paused her train of thought, she would have to monitor him closer now.

"I have no real idea what to do with myself. I think I shall make a flower arrangement for the Royal's. What are your plans for the day?" Mercy gave him a quiet look, that she hoped showed sadness for the loss of the girl but a general acceptance of what happens in life no matter how bad.

Name: Charmaine de Mollier
Title: Lady
Age: 32
Bio: Charmaine is a member of the English artistocracy, which as far as she see's it gives her a supremacy over anyone else around, aloof and quite formidable she is married to a cousin of the last advisor which I fear may serve only to spur on her feelings of superiority. She does not plan to stay at the court long, merely long enough to make her husband regret taking a long hunting holiday in Scotland.
Picture:




Charmaine is the Brunette... three guesses who the blond woman is....

Comtesse Marie-Elisabeth Valois
 

Marie-Elisabeth had been woken from a relatively pleasant sleep to hear the news of the princess' death.

Immediately her heart went out to the royal family, but especially the King. She could only imagine how devastated he must be at the loss of his only child. Her hand reflexively shot up to grab the locket around her neck and she shivered. She didn't know what she would ever do if something were to happen to Charles, and didn't wan to think about it.

"Jeanne" she called, and the maid came in from the other room, curtseying before her. "Yes m'lady" she said, as Marie-Elisabeth walked over to her vanity and sat down.

"Tell Beatrice I want the plain black gown with the large sash around the waist this morning. And I want you to fix my hair simply, nothing fancy".

"Of course" the maid said, hurrying into the next room to do as she was told, and then back in to start working on her mistress' hair.

Marie-Elisabeth frowned as Jeanne worked on her hair. "I just got out of mourning clothes" she thought with a sigh "And now I'm back in them again. It seems the world is against me ever being happy and light again".

She soon gave herself a mental shake as Jeanne put the brush down and declared she was finished. "Good Lord in heaven Marie" she thought as her clothing was brought in "Show some respect, this is a person you're thinking about. Imagine how you'd feel if it was your child". That thought sobered her up rather quickly, and she was silent as the ladies dressed her in the plain black gown.

Eventually dressed to her satisfaction, Marie-Elisabeth made her way through the somber hallways of the palace to the Grand Dining Room. There were few people in the large room, which of course was understandable.

"Good Morning Duc d'Lorraine, Baroness Flight" she said, as she passed by them to take a free seat near the man she had seen coming in with his family last night.

She then sat in relative silence, sipping tea from a delicate china cup.

(((OOC: There you go Atropa, you can have him talk to her if you like )))

Isabella
 

((OOC: My company left today, and now I finally had time to sit and read through everything I’ve missed. A huge thank you goes out to everyone for keeping the RP going with me not around. I do love this RP and all its inhabitants. I’m glad you guys kept on trudging without me. I promise to work on fixing the maps and the character lists, and all that stuff soon. Fayreview’s map will be what we go with. A great big welcome to the new comers and a sad goodbye to those that left. Thank you again!))

The night had been a terribly long ordeal. Shortly after Isabella had taken her spot beside Adalita, Edouard was called to join them. As the Royal Physician left, he shook his head somberly at Isabella. He had lost the fight, the news had been given to late. All he could manage to say was a barely audible, “I’m sorry.” As Isabella held the girl’s cold, clamy hand, she could barely feel the girl’s pulse. The Doctor gave orders to one of the servants to fetch Prince Octavien at once, as he was sure the girl would fade entirely in the next few hours.

Isabella sat, looking upon her husband the King. He sat across from her on the other side of the bed, staring at his daughter as she lay, pale as a ghost. Isabella wondered how it was the man did not shed a tear. This was his daughter, his one and only child. He had withheld his warm emotions, his loving embraces, his encouraging smiles from her while she was alive, would he be so cruel as to hide his tears of sorrow from her at her death?

Isabella’s stomach began to churn as she dwelled on her thoughts. Adalita was not of her own flesh, yet Isabella had done much for the poor girl. More than her father knew. She knew it was not appropriate for her to speak towards Edouard now with anything other than consoling words. But much like the afternoon she had return from being lost in the forest, she felt she had a righteous anger she must get off her chest. “Perhaps now you’ll regret being so cold, so distanced.” Her voice had been low, but her tone sharp. Edouard moved his eyes off of his daughter and quickly placed them on her face. “Your daughter shall die, and you don’t shed a tear. You don't even know her!” Isabella continued boldly. You don’t even know me. She thought in her mind.

For once she thought she saw something rise up within Edouard, displeasure of the greatest sort. “You are not so ill bred as to not know that now is not the proper time for such words.” He answered, his voice raised and sharp, much like a parent would scold a child. Just as he was finishing his sentence the doors to Adalita’s suite opened, Octavien appearing between them.

Isabella’s eyes darted towards him, wondering if he had heard Edouard raise his voice. She longed to just run into his arms, after all she had not been with him the night before, and she would not be with him tonight. It wasn’t the grief of the death of Adalita that gave her said longing, it was the desire to flee from her reality, to run back into the arms of solace.

Edouard’s expression made it clear he had nothing else to say at the moment, Isabella’s stomach churned with turmoil. She released Adalita’s hand, replacing it on the bed. She stood quickly while excusing herself. “Excuse me, for I feel ill.” She stated to Edouard before returning her gaze upon Octavien who had made his way into Adalita’s chambers. “Please, have my spot beside your wife.” Those words of hers had been forced, her left hand quickly coming to rest on her stomach, while she fought the natural tendency to raise her right to cover her mouth. She walked briskly towards the bath chambers, a young maid following after her.

=====

The next morning found Isabella staring out her window once again, thinking of all she had endured in recent days. There were so many things to take care of. Duc d’Lorraine was still to be watched, Marquess Berini was to be released, Duc d’Cognac was still to be heard from, there was news of new arrivals and now Princess Adalita was dead. Edouard had made it clear that he was not to be bothered this day, not by his wife or any other soul. Which left only Isabella to make decisions regarding Adalita’s funeral arrangements. A task she did not wish to bear, a task which left her feeling rather resentful towards Edouard, for placing the running of the kingdom on her shoulders once again.

As the questions dwindled, Isabella found herself sitting at her desk, quill in hand, writing a note. A carefully worded note, asking Octavien if he would grace her with his presence, as she wished to get his thoughts and wishes regarding Adalita’s funeral. Truth was she wished really for him to comfort her, for him to console her during this time of turmoil and strife, but she would make that known once he had come near.

Sealing the envelope satisfactorily she handed it to a servant to deliver at once to the Prince. All royalty was expected to mourn hidden from the eyes of the nobles of court, she figured he would have time in his day for her.

((OOC: Atropa - I hope this okay. I know I’ve been a way a long time. Oh, and don’t let Isabella see Octavien and Josephine together, she might get suspicious, and it’ll be her turn to be jealous!))

Dimitri & Baroness 'Venn' - Dining Room ;)
 

((Good to see the Queen back! And now that you've mentioned it, it just HAS to happen... ))
______


Thankfully, Baroness Venn had a greater willingness to talk than he did. The Duc’s words had been the appropriate thing to say, expressing concern for the Royal family; but they had come out entirely flat and trite to his ears. More followed a death than mere mourning and wishes that meant well. There was, of course, and would most certainly be in Adalita’s case; revanche.

He listened very quietly, not interrupting or adding; ashamed but grateful that she willingly shouldered the difficult task of conversations in mourning.

“I have a great deal of empathy for his Royal highness, losing your child in any manner is horrific but death is final,” she sighed. “The Queen will also be in a bad way, she worked so hard to help that young girl have the best future she could have, to sort out her worries.”

Dimitri was not so catty as to ask how she could possibly know what the Queen did, but he was certainly curious. Perhaps she spoke generally, for all mothers and stepmothers were expected to provide the best for their children. Perhaps she also spoke generally about the horror of losing children. But if so, (his lips thinned ever so slightly), he was compelled by an irrational desire to declare that ‘horrific’ was not a word worthy to describe the loss of one’s child; that for some the death of a child was so final that it meant the death of oneself.

“The lengths w-she went to were extreme.”

But there were other concerns. Dimitri’s sharp ears caught the hesitation—he could not possibly know what she had meant to say... but Baroness Venn, in the short time he knew her, had never stumbled over her words before. When she changed topics, albeit rather smoothly, he knew he hadn’t imagined it.

“...I think I shall make a flower arrangement for the Royal's. What are your plans for the day?”

His mind was a whirl of thoughts and suppositions as Mercy spoke, and so he could only nod vaguely when the Comtesse de Valois greeted him and... Baroness ‘Flight’?

A spark of amusement returned to his eyes, manifesting in the upturned corner of his lips, as he returned his gaze to Mercy. “I am afraid my afternoon shall be far less creative; I’ll merely ride into town to inquire the condition of Baroness Venn’s dress. You would not happen to know her, would you, Baroness Flight?”

That was the truth, in as much as half-truths were truths. He was also hoping to find the elusive Duc d’Cognac, who apparently had held a party or some such in the previous days and had undoubtedly needed to provision himself with women and wine from the town. There was also the matter of a certain Marquess languishing in the dungeons whom he wanted to either interrogate or disembowel, but that was tonight’s activity.

Right now, he merely wanted to chat with Baroness Flight.

Dimitri turned back to her the beginnings of a smirk appearing across his lips, “I am afraid my afternoon shall be far less creative; I’ll merely ride into town to inquire the condition of Baroness Venn’s dress. You would not happen to know her, would you, Baroness Flight?”

Yes, it would seem courtiers had a habit of destroying the things you worked so hard to change. "I was not aware there is some social aversion to a widow using her maiden name, particularly if there have been several years since his death and even more since the breakdown of the marriage." It sounded serious, it was said in a cool voice accompanied by folded arms and raised eyebrows, however Mercy had matched the upturn of the corner of his lips with the barest of smiles.

"Perhaps I had a ulterior motive for changing it so recently.... but is that not a woman's perogative? And even the magnificent Duc d’Lorraine cannot expect a woman to hand over all of her secrets can he?" She smiled, if had been anyone else she would have reacted rather differently, but there was no point in ruining the fun Dimitri seemed to be having.

César - Grand Dining Hall
 

(((ooc: Sorry it took me a while. Work is killing me.)))


Taking a seat at the far end of the long, lavish table currently donning various beautifully displayed breakfast dishes, César was pleased to find that it seemed as though the prominent Duc d'Lorraine had recognized him as well, judging by the way the older man had raised his hand in greeting, instead of giving just a polite nod, like one would usually do to those one wished to show common courtesy, but didn't actually know (or at least wished to pretend one didn't know). The difference was subtle, but in proper courtesy among nobles, such details were often essential when wanting to display one's feelings towards someone, or determining someone else's feeling towards oneself. So much so, that sometimes people would get quite carried away - mostly the younger nobles, who had little else to do with their time except gossip - and may even wind up spending hours obsessing over the tiniest gesture recieved, in their desire to understand what exactly it meant. César had seen it happen a number of times, at various parties and social events he had attended over the years. Especially to young women with a love interest.

The Duc's gesture and the look of recognition in his eyes, had César give another glance in the direction of the Duchess Du Polingac, to see if he had sparked a memory in her as well. But, it didn't seem she had even noticed him - despite him being quite noticeable, at least according to César himself - and so his gaze ventured away from her face once more, to sweep across some of the other courtiers in the room.
There weren't many.
Of his own gender, there was a man in his mid-thirties, who was just standing from his seat after having finished eating, and another who looked so old César would've been willing to bet he'd be the next in line to the ferry of Charon. Then there was, of course, the Duc d'Lorraine, who despite his age looked as strong and vital as ever.
Which left the ladies.
Next to the Duc was seated a light-haired woman whose age César found difficult to determine. While her face bore the traces of a long life, there was something in her mannerism that gave off a slightly more youthful air, thus making it difficult to determine, at least from this distance, how old she could be exactly. Then there was another, younger lady, who appeared to be around César's own age. She, too, was a blonde, and a pretty one at that. Although she seemed rather shy, and distant. Or perhaps the burden of the Princess' death was what put such a sombre and withdrawn look on her face, as though she was shutting herself away in her own little world of grim thoughts?
Either way, César decided to respect her apparent wish for solitude, and not disturb her. But, he did steal another glance or two, before waving his hand slightly at one of the servants, for them to pour his glass with wine, while he himself acquired what would be needed to satisfy his healthy appetite.

As he did, a fourth woman entered the Grand Dining Hall. It was yet another fair-haired beauty, though seemingly a few years younger than the other pretty lady, and considerably younger than the one in Duc d'Lorraine's honorable company. Moreover, she seperated herself from the previous two even further by - although wearing the black of mourning and a sombre facial expression to match - seeming far more vivacious. Composed and calm, and moving with the proper unhurried grace of a noblewoman, but there was something about her that instantly caught César's attention. Following her casually and sporadically with his eyes as she approached, he was soon able to put his finger on what it was; there was something vibrant and mischiveous hiding behind those blue eyes and rosebud lips. Something devilish.
And César should know. He had seen it numerous times before, when looking into the mirror.

Much to his satisfaction, she chose a seat not far from his. As she did, and the chair was pulled back for her by one of the servants, for her to sit, César himself pushed back his own to stand, showing the proper manners of a gentleman towards a lady as she was being seated.
Then, once she was indeed seated, he himself sat back down, and while she was being served a small cup of tea, he took the time to swallow the piece of bread he'd had in his mouth on her arrival. Only when that was done and he was free to speak without running the risk of crumbs of bread spraying from his mouth, did he turn to her.

"It seems a rather awkward time for introductions", he started, "but I believe common courtesy is still the norm even in times of grief."

Having said that, he inclined his head ever so slightly in a gentle nod.

"Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, at your service."



(((ooc: Octavien coming later. Hopefully.)))

Comtesse Marie-Elisabeth Valois
 

Marie-Elisabeth was of course, completely aware of the eyes of the young man following her around the room.

She was always aware of anyone looking at her, and particularly aware if that someone was an attractive young man. She resisted the urge to smirk as she walked over to sit near to him, aware of how improper it would seem.

She help a tiny one from making its’ way onto her face though, when he continued to watch her after she was seated and drinking her tea. She was flattered in a way. Most men, married or otherwise, had a tendency to keep away from her. Men in general tended not to like her more independent streak, which her late husband had been so amused by.

It hadn't ever bothered her much before her marriage, and during Charles had indulged any whim she happened to have. Afterwards though, it was just another thing for her to add to the list of things that had happened in her life that made her resentful.

The Comtesse did recognize the man though, as the one who had come in with his family the previous evening. She remembered he had glanced over at her as she left her rooms, and now found herself wishing she had asked someone whom he was. It would be nice to get to know some people her own age.

"It seems a rather awkward time for introductions", he started, "but I believe common courtesy is still the norm even in times of grief."

Having said that, he inclined his head ever so slightly in a gentle nod.

"Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, at your service."

“Comtesse de Valois, I’m very pleased to meet you monsieur” she said, smiling and likewise inclining her head “I believe I saw you arriving yesterday, I’ve just come to the palace myself”.

Marie-Elisabeth paused for a moment to take a small sip of her tea. “It is certainly most unfortunate that we should both arrive at such an unhappy time Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, I wish we could have met under better circumstances I can only imagine how their Majesties must be feeling right now”.

Roseline >> Gardens
 

Roseline had, once again seemed to have drifted away from the Grand Dining Room, allowing her thoughts to drag her away. She knew that really she should keep her mind on the Court, but today her daydreams could be seen to the others as simple mourning of the Princess’ death, and in a strange way she was glad for the cover. So much had happened in her time at Court, and she hadn’t been here for long at all, compared to some of the other Courtiers who had practically grown up in the Palace. Roseline pushed the plate that lay in front of her slightly to the side. She had no appetite this morning and there was no way a proper meal could be eaten at any rate in this corset.

Finally coming back to her senses, Roseline allowed her eyes to drift around the large room. The room was fairly empty from what she would normally expect to see at this time, but perhaps some had taken the break from the Morning Announcements to catch up on some sleep, although Roseline suspected that they were simply away from the main groups, she never could claim to know where many of the courtiers spent their time, but she did wonder where one person was. Duc Silvius Peitou-Charentes the only person who she would have expected to see around Court more often than she had done and much more when the Princess’ condition had deteriorated. Perhaps he had locked himself away from the prying eyes of the nobility but she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had seen him recently.

The Dining Room was stifling, and Roseline wished to be outside, away from the silence of the corridors and sorrowful downcast expressions that the courtiers wore. She quickly rose, and crossed the room gracefully. That was another trait that she had managed to pick up after a while of being around the courtiers, to walk with the elegance that all the noblewomen had that always seemed to Roseline to be completely natural. At home, she had had almost zero grace. Yet Court was no place for a young girl to be stumbling over the many skirts that had to be worn. Roseline had often wondered why they were really necessary, it had taken her weeks of practicing just walking around her home before she was sent away to Court, and her maid would simply laugh at her and tell her that she should have practiced this when she was a little girl, like the other girls had done.

Roseline often thought of home when she was at Court, although thinking back all she wished to do then was to come to Court. It was sad really how people always want what they don’t have. Perhaps it was simply the lingering of death in the air around the Palace that had her thinking of home, and her future. But the more she did think of the future the more she thought that living happily ever after next to never happens and, for now she enjoyed the small freedoms of the Court and abruptly pushed her thoughts away from the subject.

She found herself outside, quite suddenly and though it was fairly cold it was not nearly as freezing as it had been this winter, and the snow that had lain like a blanket over the Palace gardens for a while had all but disappeared, leaving the gardens bare, but promising, and Roseline hoped that spring was on it’s way – she detested the cold weather, and once the warm weather arrived she could escape out into the normally gorgeous gardens and away from the crowded corridors.

Walking slowly further out into the gardens, she found herself crossing the path of a young woman, perhaps about Roseline’s age. For a moment, Roseline wondered if they had met before, but finding nothing in her memory she smiled gently at the woman.

“Bonjour Madame.” She said, bowing her head slightly. The only person she believed the pretty woman to be was the newly-arrived [color=black]Marquise de Mont-de-Marsan, but couldn’t be sure, only having heard rumours of her and her husband’s arrival, and having only a small idea to as what she looked like.

--


Also, I was just wondering whether there was an official reason that was posted for Silvius leaving… or are we assuming he has just disappeared? I had a look, but couldn’t find one …))

(((OOC: Thanks Atropa I'll have to bookmark that. And I think I'm happy enough with my RP now))

((OOC: funheart - while stylequeen did tell us she was leaving the RP there was never a given reason for Silvius' disappearance. No one has mentioned it that I know of. So if you have a story line in mind, go for it. Let your imagination run wild. That's what this RP thrives on. ))

Dimitri & Mercy - Dining Room
 

((Argh! Apologies especially to Fay for my bad closing post and long waiting time. It's been getting crazier on my end recently. ))
______


“I was not aware there is some social aversion to a widow using her maiden name, particularly if there have been several years since his death and even more since the breakdown of the marriage.” Gone was the consoling, almost motherly aura surrounding the Baroness, replaced by an arched brow and serious tone. (Somehow, even then, she managed a hint of a tease in every other syllable.) It was certainly not an unwelcomed changed; this was the Mercy he was used to speaking to.

The Duc, of course, hadn’t a clue how her previous marriage had fallen apart. Nor was he inclined to ask, like a nosy little hen pecking away at every passing gossip. As he did with most information, he filed the deceased husband’s name away on the off-chance that, perhaps, one day, it may come in use.

...And yet, the young lady had called her ’Baroness Flight’, so at least she knew Mercy’s real name. He could not deny being very curious if he had been the only one referring to a mythical ’Baroness Venn’. It was a sort of humiliation that may have, if this had been any other day, slid under his fingernails and slithered annoyingly beneath his skin.

“Perhaps I had a ulterior motive for changing it so recently.... but is that not a woman's perogative? And even the magnificent Duc d’Lorraine cannot expect a woman to hand over all of her secrets can he?”

“I certainly do not think myself magnificent enough to handle any woman’s secrets, Baroness,” he asserted with that sort of humility that was too smooth to be entirely humble. He matched her smile. “Much less yours. My father used to say the path to Hell lay behind a woman’s lips.”

And that was why, the embarrassingly old-fashioned, senior Duc d’Lorraine exhorted to his young sons; back in the good old days, he said, they had images of women with their mouths padlocked. Dimitri remembered his hour-long rants even now.

“Though now that we’ve officially come clean, I suppose I should not feel extremely guilty for keeping my title away from you,” Dimitri chuckled, gesturing to a servant for more wine and more bread. It would be a busy day, today. When he continued, it was almost airily, “Perhaps one day, we shall find ourselves such good friends that you will reveal your ulterior motive.”

"Dear Dimitri I have every intention we shall." Mercy smiled, "and I never suggested you should feel guilty for it... I merely thought it." She winked, as was Mercy's way when she felt comfortable and shockingly she did. It was odd concidering how little time this man had been around and that their first encounter had been after he had almost run her over. Oh well social rules and ettiquette did not seem to work with this relationship; teasing... first names and something of a... mutual trust?

"I also believe that perhaps your father was right... Some of us can be a little scathing, myself included..." Another wink accompanied this admitance. Women were either rather difficult or very difficult, generally depending on their intelligence, the most stupid and intelligent were difficult, the easiest to deal with were in the middle. Or at least it seemed that way to Mercy, women were difficult creatures. ((Mercy is at one end of the scale... and it was debatable which end... she of course has her own idea.)) And men were, by nature, infinity more simple they could get away with it, men had power and only had to fight each other for it. Women had to fight eachother and men for power, to be listened to to be more than just a trophy or necessary chore.

((Seiza I'll forgive you if you forgive me for this terrible post, and eek!))

Octavien & Isabella - Isabella's Salon
 

If there had ever been a point in Octavien's young life, when he wasn't at all sure of what he was feeling, this dreadful morning would be it. Thoughts and emotions were swirling inside of him, his head swimming with impressions of which he struggled to make any sense at all. The most overpowering was, of course, the most obvious; the death of Princess Adalita. His wife. Just a girl, with life cruelly torn away from her, out of her very hands. And with it, the life her unborn child as well. The child that in time would've become the heir to the throne...
And there it was. The thought that had opened the gates and flooded his mind with so many more. How the child he had agreed to raise as his own, whose existence he had accepted, and in a way welcomed, now was no more. How the King with the loss of his only child, had lost so much more than that, more than he would ever even know. How Octavien had become a widower almost before he'd had a chance of being a husband. How - and Lord have mercy on his soul for such a thought - he was once again free, released from the burden of trying to protect a young woman who seemed to go out of her way to make it an impossible task. Free of the blind hatred of Duc Peitou-Charentes. Although, considering that very blindness and how the man had accused Octavien of ruining his sordid life for marrying Adalita, Octavien wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he would somehow hold Octavien responsible for the death of the woman he supposedly loved. The woman, who since she fell ill, he hadn't spent even one single minute on seeing.
Love?
Hardly. Even Octavien himself had held more warmth in his heart for Adalita, than that libertine Duc, whose only interest in warmth was that in his bed. Octavien could only hope Adalita hadn't been aware enough of her surrundings, to notice her lover's complete and telling absence.

Following that thought, was the one about Isabella, and her health. The previous dawn, he had been wondering about the excuse she had sent him, about being ill. Back then, he hadn't been sure what to think, and he had been afraid that she was withdrawing from him, for some reason.
After this night, he was even more afraid. But not that she was withdrawing from him, but that something really was ailing her. Two nights in a row she had claimed to feel ill, and during the one that had just come to an end, he had seen it with his own eyes, and seen her retreat to the nearby bath chambers. Something really was wrong... And the only thought he had to comfort himself with, was that whatever it was, it seemed to be something different than the illness that had claimed Adalita's life. Adalita hadn't felt nauseous. She had just... faded away, drained of all her strength and vibrancy.

"Octavien?"

A soft, careful voice reached through the tangle in his mind, and guided him back to the present. It was Gilles who, with almost fatherly concern etched onto his aged features, was speaking to him, using his master's first name, like he always did when the use of his title put distance where there needed to be closeness.

"This just arrived", he said, and handed Octavien a small envelope, before adding; "From Her Majesty, the Queen."

For the first time in hours, there was a spark of life in the Prince's eyes. He turned his head to look at Gilles instead of through the window and off into a far away dimension, and then a moment later shifted his gaze to the small envelope that his trusted servant had placed in his hands.

"Thank you, Gilles", he said, flipping the envelope open with deft fingers, hoping the note would read what he wished it would.

Eyes quickly skimming the few short sentences, a faint but undeniably relieved smile emerged on his lips. Even in this time of tragedy, it seemed the gods still favoured him enough to grant him his wishes, and allow him the chance to escape the limbo of not knowing, that he had been in since the night before last. The note held just the words he had wished for; she wanted to see him. Supposedly to discuss Adalita's funeral, but he could read between the lines. After all, he had barely even known the girl, so what could he possibly have to say about it all?
And, even if they had been the best of friends, he could still sense the tone in Isabella's words, as though she had whispered them in his ear herself, with all the passion she held in her graceful frame, even though to anyone else, they were so innocently put, that there would be no cause for concern or suspicion whatsoever.

"Shall I deliver a response?", Gilles asked.

Octavien shook his head, and stood from the small window niche where he had been spending the past few hours, causing the older man to worry about him sitting there in the wintery draft, carelessly risking his own health.

"No, thank you, Gilles", the Prince said, and tossed the blanket Gilles had insisted he put around his shoulders to ward off the cold, on the large bed. "I shall go myself."

Leaving his own chambers with purposeful yet solemn steps, it wasn't two minutes later that one of Isabella's maids let him into the Queen's Salon, to wait while she announced his presence to her mistress. At first, Octavien allowed his gaze to roam the room while he waited, studying the decor that by now had become a familiar surrounding to him, but it kept finding it's way to the grand double door through which Isabella would soon enter. When she finally did appear, he felt as though he had been staring at them forever, anticipating the moment when he would finally get to see her in private again, to be alone with her. It had been far too long...
In reality, only a few days, but a few days so eventful it was enough to make him feel as though weeks had passed since last they were together, alone.

"Isabella..."

Her name pushed past his lips, seemingly with a will of it's own, and their gazes locked across the room. Even from that distance, he could see the look in her eyes, and he knew...
She was not withdrawing from him.

César and Marie-Elisabeth - Grand Dining Hall
 

A self-proclaimed expert on women - as far as coquetry went - César hadn't failed to notice the fact that he himself had been noticed by the young blonde now seated close to him, nor had he failed to recognize her subtle reaction to his appreciative glances. Many young women her age would often fail at keeping their composure when made aware that they had apparently sparked an interest in a handsome man. Or, they simply would not even try, but instead surrender to a muffled fit of giggles, not yet having learned to fully master the cool feminine poise that came with age and experience.

This one, however, was indeed an exception, carrying herself with dignity and only giving away her feelings through an ever so faint smirk, which in turn only managed to generate a feeling of smugness in César. She enjoyed the attention. Which left only to find out if she liked it because of the attention itself, or because it was given by him?

"Comtesse de Valois", she introduced herself with a kind smile and an equally polite nod of her head in response to him. "I’m very pleased to meet you monsieur. I believe I saw you arriving yesterday, I’ve just come to the palace myself."

So... Judging by those words, she had not heard of him or his family before, at least not through tales that had imprinted the name in her mind. A curse, or quite possibly a blessing? A man of César's standing rarely got a chance to make a first impression, unpreceded by some kind of reputation; be it that of his family, their vineyards, or César himself. A tabula rasa was a rare thing to encounter.
Or, it could be that the sweet Comtesse did know of the name, but for some reason had decided to pretend that she didn't. Women were tricky beings, and César would never put it past any of them to play games, just to try and cut a man down to size.
Well, attempt to, anyway.

He himself, however, did know the name de Valois, but only through reputation. And for the life of him, he couldn't remember what exactly it was that he had heard about the Comte de Valois.

"It is certainly most unfortunate that we should both arrive at such an unhappy time Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan," the young lady continued. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances I can only imagine how their Majesties must be feeling right now."

A momentary shadow of concern stole across César's clean-cut features, when his thoughts touched on the subject of Octavien. He could only imagine his best friend's pain and devastation, over loosing his wife so shortly after they had been wed.

"Ah, yes", he said slowly. "I feel for them. For Octavien, for loosing his beloved wife before they had a chance to share even the beginning of a life together. And the King, for loosing his only child. Having two beautiful daughters of my own, I can imagine his pain..."

There he paused briefly, to quickly blink away the images appearing in his head, of his two cherished daughters, cold and still, and shield himself from the terror striking his heart at there mere thought. Then he turned his head to look at the Comtesse, and he offered a faint, placid smile.

"Do you have children, Comtesse?"

((OOC: Sorry for the slight delay...

Marie-Elisabeth and Cesar
 

Marie-Elisabeth had listened carefully to everything the Marquis had said, trying to study the man sitting next to her. It was certainly interesting that he would approach her. Being a widow she was quite often forced into the company of the same. And if she had to spend another moment in the company of dowdy old women in hideous black dresses she felt like she’d go mad.

And of course, she didn’t miss the appreciative looks he was sending her way. Not completely obvious ones of course, but she picked up on them anyway. But she also knew quite well that he had a wife, both from seeing him with her last night and from the ring on his finger. She quickly found herself curious as to what he was thinking about her. His question shook her out of her thoughts though.

"Do you have children, Comtesse?"

“I do indeed” replied Marie-Elisabeth, lighting up at the chance to talk about her beloved son “I have a 6 year old son, Charles. He’s the dearest thing in the world to me. Everyone says he looks just like me, except for having his fathers dark eyes”.

She smiled and toyed with the locket at her throat for a moment, but then remembered her stepdaughters. “I have two daughters as well Marquis, well stepdaughters really. My late husband’s children from his first marriage”.

She wondered if the Marquis had heard of her husband or not. He was quite well known, but more so in the older generation than the younger one they were both a part of. She probably could have named off almost all the courtiers of the older generation with her eyes closed, but hadn’t really been around many people her age very often. But she supposed that was just another addition to the list of things about her marriage that made her bitter.

“But I do remember seeing your daughters briefly last night” she said with a smile, banishing her depressing thoughts from her mind “They certainly were lovely little girls. You’ll probably have to fight their suitors off when they’re older”.