César & Marie-Elisabeth - Grand Dining Hall
 

"I do indeed."

The answer to César's question came swiftly, and bore the unmistakable warmth of a proud mother. A warmth of which César could relate, as an equally proud father. It didn't matter to him that his two legitimate children were both 'only' girls, he still treasured them dearly, and despite his mother's sporadic lectures about not spoiling them, he often lavished them with affection, and was sure to do the same with gifts once they got older, and started desiring pretty dresses, stylish hats, dainty little shoes, exclusive adornments for their rooms, expensive jewelry, beautiful ponies, and everything else young girls dreamt of. He was already spending a generous amount of money on those dear to him and of the female gender, and that was not likely to change any time soon.

Besides, him and Joséphine having had two girls did not in any way mean they couldn't have more children, boys and girls. In fact, César quite enjoyed trying. He enjoyed it very much.

"I have a 6 year old son, Charles", the Comtesse continued speaking, her voice and face both still mirroring the enthusiasm of someone who was speaking of the apple of their eye, and could go on forever. "He’s the dearest thing in the world to me. Everyone says he looks just like me, except for having his fathers dark eyes."

A somewhat dreamy expression stole across her face for a moment, and her fingers touched a delicate locket of the necklace she wore, drawing César's eyes away from her face, to that somewhat more compromising area to look at. But only for an instant, as César really hadn't made a habit of oogling ladies in such a manner, despite his predilection for them. He was not quite that lecherous.

Though he was just about to ask her about the boy's father - for the purpose of perfectly innocent curiousity, of course - when she moved on to answer it before it had even made it past his lips;

"I have two daughters as well Marquis, well stepdaughters really. My late husband’s children from his first marriage."

So. Her husband was now deceased, but had been old enough to have been previously married, and fathered two children before marrying the Comtesse. That narrowed down the list a bit. Though at the moment, it didn't help jog César's memory much, as he still couldn't think of how, where or when he had heard of the Comte de Valois. Not that it mattered all that much, and so with a mental shrug, he resigned, for now, having decided to ask his dear wife, or possibly Octavien, if either of them knew of the name. Joséphine had a sharp mind and a good memory, and Octavien... Well, as the Prince, one would expect him to now be a little bit more aware of the nobles in the country than he had previously been, no?

"But I do remember seeing your daughters briefly last night", the Comtesse continued once again, with another soft smile on her rosey lips. "They certainly were lovely little girls. You’ll probably have to fight their suitors off when they’re older."

At that, César couldn't help but to smile. Luckily, he managed to stop the small chuckle before it spilled forth from his lips, as now would seem a most inappropriate time for laughing.

"Thank you, Comtesse", he said with a small nod in recognition of the compliment. "They have indeed stolen my heart, and I shall see to it that the men who end up stealing theirs have all the qualities and means required to make them happy, and are not thrifty with said qualities and means."

There he paused, to take another sip from his glass of wine, before continuing.

"You said you just recently arrived here yourself", he said, once the glass was returned to it's proper place by the delicate china plate, and he was once again looking at her. "Did you arrive for the wedding? Sadly, my wife and I missed it, as we found out the groom is a good friend of mine, only once the whole splendid affair was over."

Marie-Elisabeth et César : Grand Dining Hall
 

Dimitri - Dining Room >> Stables
 

Dimitri himself was also in something of a minor dilemma over his friendship with Baroness Ve—Flight. Mercy. (Perhaps he really would be forced to refer to her by her Christian name, seeing as how he could not decide between her married and maiden names.) He did not normally find himself in the company of such brazen women, who could wink freely at him and tease at their pleasure. Oh, he had met several colourful characters in his youthful days in the Palace, but either out of his own nature or the nurture of his proprietary parents, such acquaintances did not last long.

“I also believe that perhaps your father was right... Some of us can be a little scathing, myself included...” She winked deviously. If she had been a man, he could almost imagine the elbow nudging at his ribs, sharing a common joke.

“I believe my skin thick enough to withstand your best attempts, but do not take that as an invitation to try,” Dimitri’s face was grave, but his grey eyes could not help glinting mischievously.

He met Mercy only a few days ago. But it had not been a normal encounter, and so perhaps his normal rules of etiquette did not apply, for he was finding her brazenness peculiarly delightful. It even made him smile, on this most miserable of days.

Afternoon stole itself under the guise of their conversation; the morning passed without him realising it. It had not been particularly productive in terms of absolute work done, but the Duc’s spirits were lifted and that was good enough. Finishing off the last of his breakfast, he bid the Baroness farewell, for he had some business to be done in town. With a bow to her and to the company surrounding them, he left.

At the stables, Rukov ready and waiting with his riding gear. There was no carriage. In this mild afternoon, when winter still cast its light shadow over the country, they saddled two horses and rode away.

((Not approachable.))

Isabella & Octavien
 

((OOC: Atropa - I'm sorry this took so long to get up. And even now it's mainly all fluff. Sorry. I wasn't sure where their conversation would go, so I left it up to you.
Seiza- I'm determined to get a PM to you today.
Everyone - thanks for your patience with me!))

Isabella watched the note as it disappeared through the doors of her suite in the hand of a servant before sauntering over to her northern window. As the ice had melted and the sun came out Isabella wished to be out in it; to shed the confines of her room as one would shed a winter's coat and roam freely in the fresh air. As her eyes just begun to dance over the still bare tree tops a meek voice pierced through her concentration. “Your Majesty, the Prince Octavien is ready for your audience in your Salon.” With steady grace her head turned in the servant’s direction, a simple “Thank You” coming from her lips. She turned away from the window, the hem of her dark dress skimming the floor as she did.

Unlike the beat of her heart and the pulse of the blood running beneath her fair skin, her steps were steady and slowed. She left the confines of her room, not bothering to take in her appearance one more time. As the servant pushed open the heavy doors for her Isabella prepared to search the room for Octavien. The room was grand and often visitors would walk along the wall taking in the various masterpieces that hung there. However as soon as she could peer through the opening in the doors, she saw his dapper figure standing there. His eyes were already upon her, as if he had felt her presence through the thick wooden doors. The look in his eyes engulfed her, making it impossible for her to hold back a simple smile. While truthfully if Isabella really wished to, she could restrain any emotion from becoming evident upon her face, but at this moment, doing so was the furthest thing from her mind.

She entered the room, just far enough for the doors to clear the hem of her dress as they closed. A distance she had assumed so many times it was simply habit to her, she had no need to even think of where she was in relation to them. Her eyes took in his appearance, searching for the confirmation that the past two nights apart had taken their toll on him as much as they had her. Just as the doors shut behind her a simple word escaped Octavien’s lips that answered all the questions tugging at her mind, “Isabella…”. It wasn’t the fact that he had said her name, it was the manner of which he said it. The emotions that pushed it through his parted lips, reaching out to her, gripping her very body, pulling her towards him.

So many words ran through her mind as the distance between them steadily decreased. The grief of the loss of Adalita, the confines of her golden cage, they were just two of the pressures that led to her seeking the comfort of his arms. When she found herself nearly within arms reach of him there were no words she could possibly utter to correctly convey all she was feeling. But as had been so natural between the two of them so many times before, words at this moment would have been pointless; nothing but noise in the air drowning out the messages their eyes were so capable of communicating.

Finally to him, she found herself once again lost in his embrace. The weight that had clung to her limbs from the past two solitary nights and all they had entailed now melted away, releasing her from their burden. Once they were each satisfied and their lips parted, she made no attempt to pull back from him. As she looked into his eyes, she smiled once more, feeling her youth return to her making her lighter. “You look well.” she stated simply. It had been a comment both honest, and laced with deeper meaning. Her eyes searched his own, wishing to get lost in them once again. The intellectual queen part of her wished to ask about business. She had heard mention of visitors to the palace that Octavien seemed to have known. But the newly found romantic part of her that Octavien himself had uncovered wished to just remain right where she was; soaking in every minute she had with him in attempt to capture the sensation so she could take it with her later when she would be torn from his arms.

César & Marie-Elisabeth - Grand Dining Room
 

(((ooc: Shenan - It's quite alright. Busy busy busy over here as well. )))


Had César been an innocent young man, with little experience as far as women were concerned, and not known the twists and turns of a mischievous mind like the back of his hand, he might not have noticed the almost smug amusement that darted across in sparkling eyes of the Comtesse when her toying with the small locket brought his eyes to survey certain parts of her appearance, other than her face. But he did. Despite it being nothing more than a glimpse, an innuendo, he saw it.

Now, it wasn't that he knew her, or what exactly was going through her mind, because he didn't. It was just that ever present devilish look she had about her, that gave him an inclination. And he had to wonder to himself, if the gesture had been made to intentionally draw his eyes to her bosom, or if it was indeed a perfectly innocent one? Women did have their tricks to gain a man's attention, and so it would hardly have been the first time in history that a young belle used such simple measures to accentuate certain generous features.
And, even if it wasn't a gesture made to get his attention, it still worked like a charm. César was very much intrigued.

"No, I didn’t arrive for the wedding unfortunately", she told in response to his inquiry. "I would have loved to have seen it. You’re very fortunate to know people here. I haven’t become acquainted with many people yet, although I recently learned the Duc d”Lorraine was friends with my late husband. They fought together against the dreadful English some years ago."

At her mention of Duc d'Lorraine, César glanced over at the older man and his female breakfast companion, just as he stood to depart. In the process, he gave a slight bow to his company, and the others in the Grand Dining Room, and as he had greeted César upon his arrival, César now returned the his departing gesture by inclining his head slightly. Then, his gaze found it's way back to the Comtesse, who had just offered him another little tidbit; her deceased husband must've been somewhere around the Duc's age, or possibly older.

"Then perhaps you will allow me to introduce you sometime?" he said. "I'm sure Oct... I'm sure the Prince would not mind making the acquaintance of such a delightful young woman such as yourself."

Boy... Octavien's new title was going to take some real getting used to.

César and Marie-Elisabeth
 

(((OOC: Don't worry guys, I'm sure we all understand being busy. I do most of my posts on the bus (like this one) or really late at night, I can't wait till school is done next month)))

It had been a habit ever since Marie-Elisabeth had received it to play with the locket around her neck. Most people had little habits like that, some played with rings, some with their hair, but for her it was the locket.

It was more apparent when she was away from her son, because she would touch it more frequently. It had always been to her purely an innocent habit, but now it was amusing her greatly to see the effect it was having on the man sitting next to her.

She watched as his eyes shot over to the departing Duc d’Lorraine, registering the slight surprise on the Marquis’ face at the mentioning of the friendship between him and her husband. Why people always seemed so surprised at her husband’s age she never could understand, she had never really seen her situation as particularly unique.

Marie-Elisabeth’s own older sister Marie-Caroline was 24, and her husband was almost 64 years old. And they had 4 children too! Of course the first three were daughters born in as many years, before she finally gave him a son and heir.

Marie-Elisabeth had always considered herself lucky to have given birth to Charles first, or she probably would have suffered a similar fate.

As the Duc left the room she turned her attention back to her companion.

"Then perhaps you will allow me to introduce you sometime?" he said. "I'm sure Oct... I'm sure the Prince would not mind making the acquaintance of such a delightful young woman such as yourself."

“Oh that would be lovely, I’m sure.” she said, smiling at the compliment “Of course it will be quite some time before that will happen though. Loosing one’s spouse doesn’t really leave one in the mood for company, I’m sure the Prince would prefer to be left to himself for a time now”.

She sighed and started fiddling with her locket again, this time more on purpose than out of habit. She really had no idea why she was doing it, other than sheer amusement at the reaction she was getting.

“And besides” she said, letting it drop from her fingers back onto her chest “What kind of company would a boring little widow like me be for a grand prince of the realm? I’d probably bore him to tears”.

The Adventures of Dimitri and Rukov - episode 2!
 

((Same here, I've started bringing my laptop to class and typing up posts before the lecture starts. XD

Haaaaaylifer~ If Felix is around, he's got two men looking for him at his usual town-haunt. :P))
______


At a bend just before the entrance, Dimitri exchanged his fine embroidered cloak for Rukov’s less spectacular brown. He removed his silk ribbon, allowing his charcoal hair to fall scruffily about his shoulders. Rukov shrugged into his master’s cloak, combed his hair back with his fingers and tied it together in the ribbon.

“Dirt for your face, my lord?” the small man offered. “To complete the look.”

“I want to look like a retiree, not like a barbarian,” Dimitri grunted.

“They’re ’bout the same in most books, my lord.”

They rode on.

The town which they entered was no great testament to French architecture or morality, but it was a fine enough establishment to occupy the countryside spanning the Palace and the larger cities. It had its own street of legitimate coffeehouses, bookshops and inns; which was dwarfed by the longer and larger streets of brothels, taverns and seedy corners serving cheap imitations. It was the sort of town that catered to both sides of society, for both sides frequently came and went to the Palace of Light and Air.

When they came to a junction unrepentantly dividing the two sections, Dimitri headed down one street, Rukov the other.

They were looking for the newly promoted Duc d’Cognac, former Comte d’Cognac, who was the sort of man who straddled both sides of society in one person.

Dimitri entered the dull, smoke-stained walls of the second tavern, taking in the heady alcohol and raucous laughter. Ordering a drink, and making noncommittal but agreeable noises to the men occupying his bar, he made pleasant conversation and inquiries.

César & Marie-Elisabeth - Grand Dining Room
 

Having allowed his eyes to momentarily leave the pretty face of the Comtesse, César found that by departing from the Grand Dining Room, it seemed that duc d'Lorraine had started somewhat of a trend. The small gathering of people that had been ingesting (to say 'enjoyed' would've been a most vast overstatement at a time such as this) their breakfasts upon César's arrival there, was slowly thinning out. One by one, they finsihed their meals and followed the example set by the honorable Duc, and a glance at the longcase clock at the far end of the room, revealed that morning had come and gone. It was now a little past noon. Which only went on to prove that whoever had said that time flies when you are having fun, had been correct indeed. Obvious, but correct.

"Oh that would be lovely, I’m sure."

The sweet sound of the Comtesse's voice instantly brought his gaze back to her, and he returned her smile with a most charming one of his own, with only a slight dash of smugness. She had just confirmed that she would not mind being in his company once more.

"Of course it will be quite some time before that will happen though", she continued, bringing the thoughts of them both to the present tragedy marring every face and every hallway in the Palace. "Loosing one's spouse doesn't really leave one in the mood for company, I'm sure the Prince would prefer to be left to himself for a time now."

Nodding slowly in silent agreement, César once again thought of Octavien, wondering how and if he was coping with the loss of his young wife, and wishing there was something he could do for him. But as long as Octavien didn't send for him, there was nothing.

Well... In all honesty, there was. But César would not go as far as to challenge the Royal's request to be alone. Not yet, as he had no intention of starting his stay here at court by proving why exactly it was he had a reputation for being daring and brash. Though had he not heard from Octavien in a few hours, he would find him himself, and offer his support like a true friend, even if it meant only sitting with Octavien in complete silence. Or getting good and thoroughly drunk.

In the meantime, there was the Comtesse, and the chance to get to know her a little better.
Just as his eyes returned to her once more, she gave a small sigh, while at the same time gently grasping the locket again, much like a cunning and crafty woman would when wanting to bring a man's eyes to the chest heaving in the confinement of her décolletage. A casual gesture that lead César to believe that while the first time it might've been perfectly innocent, this time nothing could be further away from the truth. She had seen the effect it had on him, she had enjoyed it, and now had decided to milk it for what it was worth. She was clearly taking great pleasure in enticing him.

Now, César on the other hand, was feeling rather pleased as well, as her enjoyment in teasing him suggested that the attraction he was feeling was not one-sided.
However, just like the women who so loved to toy with him, César too could play games. While in the end he would often be the pursuer, he did enjoy teasing women in return, to coax them into pursuing him in their own little roundabout ways, and thus would sometimes deny them the reaction he knew they sought and so longed to see in him.

And so that was why this time, he merely glanced at the pendant, as if simply noting the gesture and nothing more, before locking gazes with her again, as innocent as could be. At least until he opened his mouth to reply, because when he did, he did allow a small suggestive tone to be heard in his words.

"Oh, I highly doubt that, my dear Comtesse", he said. "You've managed quite well to provide me with the most enchanting company this morning. And I assure you, I am far more critical of such things, than our beloved Prince."

Having said that, he brought the delicate linnen napkin from his lap and discreetly wiped his lips, before putting it down on the table next to his now empty plate, and turning back to her.

"However", he continued, and glanced at a few servants lining a small part of the wall. "It would seem morning has now passed, and I fear that if we dally here much longer, we shall be carried out by the servants along with the left over food. They do appear to be getting quite impatient."

With that he stood, with his usual virile grace, and offered his assitance in having her do the same, by pulling out her chair and giving her the room she needed for following him with equal elegance. Then he gallantly offered her his arm to escort her out of the Grand Dining Room.
But, that in no way meant he was about to take his leave of her, once they had made it past the dining room doors. Quite the contrary. He was far from done with enjoying the company of this little lady.

"If you have no particular plans this afternoon", he said, with a slight twinkle in his eye, "perhaps I may persuade you to join me in exploring our new surroundings?"



(((ooc: Sorry if it's messy. I got stuck, and then once I got past it, I was dead tired. *s* Also, sorry for moving on so abruptly, slytherin. I just figured maybe they should get going. *s* Let me know if you would've liked to get a word in before I moved them out of there, and I'll edit.)))

Octavien & Isabella - Isabella's Salon
 

It was strange, how one single scene could depict such sorrow, and yet at the same time lift his spirits, and fill him with such warmth and hope.

Upon her entrance into the Salon, Isabella had stopped just shy of the doors closing behind her, assuming her usual regal position of a back straight but nor stiff, a head held high with pride, but not arrogance. Octavien had seen it so many times, but still marvelled at the subtle way it left her to completely command the entire room, with nothing more than a mere glance to convey her desires. It was an ability so effortless to her, that she possessed it even now, when it seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.
Warm rays of sunlight penetrated the glass of a nearby window, and fell upon her noble frame, where they seemed to vanish completely, cruelly blotted out by the sombre darkness of her mourning attire. Yet her face still shone, with a light of it's own, born in the soft curve of her smile and the solace in her eyes as her gaze locked with his across the room. To anyone else, it would've been so faint that would hardly have seen it, but to Octavien, who had come to sometimes hold entire conversations with her with looks alone, it was so very, very palpable.

Gliding across the floor, the dress sweeping and billowing around her to the rhythmic and gentle sway of her hips, much like the body of a delicate bell around it's clapper, it was only seconds before Isabella drifted into his arms. With her body pressing against him, he wrapped them around her to pull her even closer, all the while their lips met in a passionate kiss, unveiling all their longing and desire for one another, speaking the last few words that their eyes had not. It was a kiss that, had there still been doubt lingering in his mind that she had grown bored of him, it was now laid to rest. She had not made herself unavailable to him two nights prior because she had lost interest in him, been scared off by his assertiveness in protecting what he held dear, or because a certain Baroness had whispered words of poison in her ear. The note she had sent him had been truthful, in every word, in every single letter. She had not been feeling well. Not then, and not when last he had seen her either, leaving the side of Adalita's bed.
But as he looked down on her now, eyes carefully examining her beautiful upturned face for any traces of illness or nausea, sadness and black dress aside, she didn't appear much different than usual. Her skin was still lustrous ivory, with a faint rosey hue shimmering on her cheeks, and not the almost transparent greyish tone of a diseased person. Her eyes sparkled up at him, filled with contentment at being right where she was, looking far from the dull yet glassy gaze under heavy eyelids usually significant of the feverish. Her lips were soft, moist and tantalizing, rather than chapped and dry, and he would've claimed them once more, had he not seen them starting to form a sentence.

"You look well."

The soft words eased themselves past those inviting lips, and coaxed his own into a faint smile at the irony, of having her say to him what he had just been thinking about her. And along with him pulling her even closer to him still, that was to be his only response. The subject of his health did not much interest him now. Hers, on the other hand, did.

He knew that he should probably be asking how the King was coping, if there was something he could do for his father-in-law, or for her, but uncertainty was still riding him, with one question still demanding to be answered. Despite the observations he had just made, he still needed reassurance.

Thus, he cupped one hand around her cheek, while brushing his lips against the other, closing his eyes for his other senses to dwell in her scent, her touch, and the lingering taste of her on his lips, before he parted them to speak softly, right by her ear;

"You've had me worried."

Marie-Elisabeth & César - Outside the Dining Room
 

Marie-Elisabeth would tell anyone that asked that she had moved to the palace for fun. No other real reason behind it, just for the sheer enjoyment of it. For the thrill of being part of the court; with all of its’ intrigues and mystery.

After Charles had passed away, she had devoted her life even more to the care of her son. She hadn’t wanted him to be raised by strangers at such a tender age, as most children of the nobility tended to be. But she knew as he had gotten older that it couldn’t be avoided. So she had searched out the best educators and tutors her husband’s money could buy, and bid farewell to little Charles.

So far, she would have to say her arrival had been less than fun. Quite obviously the death of the young princess had thrown a dark cloud over the entire palace. But she also had to admit that there had been an interesting part in her stay so far, and that was the man she was currently in the company with.

He was intriguing, that much was certain. And of course being a particularly handsome young man only added to that. She was mildly put out when her gesture with her necklace failed to have the desired effect but smiled appreciatively at his compliment.

Marie-Elisabeth nodded at his next comment, allowing him to assist her in getting up and escort her out of the dining room. She was initially expecting him to excuse himself afterwards, most likely to go to see his family, or possibly the Prince whom he appeared to know well.

She was surprised, but pleasantly so, to find that he intended no such thing. "If you have no particular plans this afternoon", he said, with a slight twinkle in his eye, "perhaps I may persuade you to join me in exploring our new surroundings?"

Aware of the look in his eyes, she smiled back and shook her head. “No I don’t have any plans specifically” she said, glancing over at him “Exploring the palace sounds lovely to me Marquis, where do you suggest we start”.




(((OOC: Don’t worry Atropa, it seems perfectly fine to me I completely understand the tired thing, I’ve been running on 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night myself. And I just realized they haven’t even used their real names yet LOL)))

César & Marie-Elisabeth
 

(((ooc: My, this place is quiet... Again, I gotta ask; where is everyone? Haylifer? Funheart? GeeWay? Shenan? Fayreview? Don't want to push or anything, but you guys haven't even said a peep in a long time...)))



With the shadow of the young, vibrant Princess' death looming over the Palace and its' court, César felt almost guilty for fully enjoying himself like he had donejust about the whole time since he, his wife and their two daughters had arrived. There had not been a single dull moment for the young Marquis so far, what with meeting Octavien for the first time in months, and continuing right where they had left off in their friendly bickering. Then a guided albeit small tour of the Palace, followed by a long night of unbridled passion in the arms of his vixen wife, Joséphine. And now, here he was, enjoying the company of another young beautiful lady, whose subtle mix of mischief and perfect youthful innocence had him intrigued. In a way, it reminded him of the allure Joséphine herself held to him, only in her case it was so much more potent, due to the simple fact that he knew her, and could often see what was stirring in her thoughts, behind the smoldering embers of her eyes.
The Comtesse on the other hand, he did not know well enough to be able to discern such things with certainty. Yet. But he had every intention to make sure that one day, soon, he would.

Ah yes, the young Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan did almost feel guilty. Almost. In his defense, he had done all that he could to show his support at this time, hadn't he? Octavien had yet to send word - any word - for him, after all, and César would not yet brave the royal guards and demand to be let through. Though come nightfall, if he still hadn't heard from the Prince by then, he would assume he hadn't gotten César's note, and so would come to deliver his condolences and his support in person.
But in the meantime, what was a poor, restless Marquis to do?

"No I don’t have any plans specifically."

At first the Comtesse and the blonde locks bouncing around her shoulders as she shook her head, had César thinking for a moment that she would decline his suggestion. That was, however, before he caught the glance she shot him, along with her words.

"Exploring the palace sounds lovely to me Marquis," she continued. "Where do you suggest we start?"

With the smallest of satisfied smirks playing in the corner of his mouth, César stopped once they had passed through the doors of the Grand Dining Room, and reached the grandiose entrance hall. She had not only accepted, but left it up to him to choose where they would would go. There were possibilities here...

"I'm a man with a great love for the outdoors", he said, with a meaning glance towards the majestic Palace doors leading outside.

Although when it returned to the Comtesse, there appeared a look of concern in his eyes.

"But first we must fetch you your winter coat", he said. "You simply are not properly dressed to venture out into the gardens in this cold weather, and as a gentleman I cannot with good conscience see you set one foot outside until you are."

Isabella & Octavien
 

Isabella stood, so still and so content, just basking in the feelings of Octavien’s arms around her. As he touched her cheek tenderly her eyes fluttered closed, her mind honing in on her sense of touch. As he whispered his words the faint breath that came from his lips rushed over her ear, causing her to inhale deeply. Her body yearned to just melt into him.

“You’ve had me worried.” Were the sweet words that came from his lips. As she exhaled deeply the words tumbled around in her mind. Indeed with Adalita’s prolonged sickness that led to her death, she expected most to be concerned about her apparently jittery stomach the last two nights. That’s when she realized she had not shared with Octavien the truth behind Adalita’s death, and at this particular moment she wondered if there would be any use in doing so. There was nothing that could be done for the poor girl now. She was gone. Duc d’Cognac was supposed to be tracking down the culprit at that very moment. If Octavien inquired if she had any information, then naturally she would say, but as of now she saw no use in worrying him. Not when there were other matters to tend to. Other matters of a heart that was alive and beating well, one that had missed his embrace greatly.

As Octavien pulled his face away ever so slightly to look into her eyes once more her eyes fluttered open. It was so effortless for him to call the vulnerable young girl hiding deep within her to the surface. He was the only being in her entire life that held such finesse with her. Despite the power she had been bred to wield, she honestly enjoyed the thrill of laying all that responsibility aside. Even if it was just for a few moments. “I assure you,” she began to state softly, “I am quite well now that I am with you.” Her eyes danced back and forth between his, wishing his lips would claim to her own once again. As usual he seemed to have seen her thoughts through her eyes, and gladly did as she asked.

She had spoken truthfully as she felt to signs of illness at all. It was quite unusual how her stomach had been so unsettled the last two nights. However if one was to look closely to the events that filled those days one could easily see that perhaps stress had overcome her body. The tensions had definitely been high between her and Edouard the night before. More and more Isabella wished she could rule the kingdom without him. But that was mere fantasy, and she knew it.

After a while of just enjoying each other’s embrace Isabella finally slowly drifted away, her hands followed tenderly down his arms, taking a hold of his hands wishing him to walk with her. She wished to sit beside him on one of the many couches in the room. “My servants tell me there is a young family that is visiting us. Some of them seem unable to contain themselves with the fact that there are little girls around. However what caught my attention is they say that the family seems to know you.” Isabella was not trying to instigate anything, simply trying to find a subject in which to start a conversation with. If their lips were not involved in conversation they would soon find themselves busy elsewhere. The thought of Octavien having friends within the palace walls intrigued her. She wished to not only be a part of his nights, but a part of his days as well. If the new visitors were indeed old friends of his, she couldn’t wait to meet them and hear their stories.

Dimitri and Frederico - Somewhere out there.
 

((Shenan and I RPed this scene through PM. Happy reading :D

[edit] @Atropa & slytherin-girl: I just noticed you guys are about to go out riding, and I described the weather here as cloudy and gloomy. *kicks self* But I guess the country is big enough that clouds can gather in one place but not another, y/y? :nyah: ))
______


Dimitri, Duc d’Lorraine though he was, was still relatively unknown amongst the townspeople, for he never had been a frequent patron of its various establishments. He took full advantage of his anonymity, sitting in a corner of a semi-smoky coffeehouse with a worn book and a cup of cheap Portuguese coffee. He looked old and well-spent and quiet, and people soon became more involved in their respective debates than in a retired, ex-intellectual absorbed in his reading about the history of tea prices in China.

They rode away from the town under late afternoon clouds, stretched out like a blanket over the sky. They turned into a path away from the main road, one of many small trails leading to the Palace of Light and Air.

Dimitri discovered it in his youth, although winter had rendered it significantly less green than he remembered it. He used to play in such paths, surprising maidens and servants who thought themselves safe behind the undergrowth. Winter had stolen away the undergrowth, but the trees packed tightly together on either side provided significant shelter for two men and two horses. Approximately halfway between the town and the Palace, they sat themselves among the trees and oncoming evening, and waited.

They were remarkably well-timed—it was not long before a light horse trot and creaking carriage wheels reached their ears. The path was wide enough that a carriage could go through at a decent pace, but narrow enough that there was no room to turn about. It was the sort of path made for fleeing one way, never looking back.

There was a brief discussion, then Rukov rode out on his horse. He stopped dead-centre, not flinching even as the carriage skidded to screeching stop before him.

Before the driver could even exclaim, the Duc was perched on the stand, slamming the butt of his pistol into his neck. There was not even a whimper.

They could hear some frantic scrambling within the carriage, hands pawing in useless panic at the door. Dimitri patiently waited for the lock to click, before pulling open the door himself. Marquis Frederico Berini was impudent enough to demand, even after his initial shock, even after what he had done—“What is the meaning of this?!”

The Duc slid his tall body into the carriage, closing the door behind him. His eyes were as flat as the slate of grey covering the sky. “Bonjour, Marquis Berini. You picked a gloomy day to come out.”

“No, no! Here! Take it...!” Frederico did not scramble for a sword or a gun. The first thing he reached for was his wallet. It was a pitiful offering to begin with. Despite the royal symbol adorning the door, Frederico’s carriage was poorly stocked. He must have meant only to travel as far as the first town.

“I have no use for your trinkets.” With an easy slap, the wallet flew from the Marquis’ hand.

The carriage was small and Dimitri, although less built than he was in his youth, had shoulders broad enough and a ferocity towering enough that made him seem to fill the whole space. He did not swing his hand widely, but his movement was so sharp, so tense, that even a small flick was enough to disturb his cloak, revealing the bulbous end of a pistol hidden behind it.

The Marquis, recognising it for a cavalry firearm, realised this was no simple robbery. He moaned, “Oh God...”

“Stop your mewling and answer me true!” Dimitri growled, in so guttural a voice that it might have horrified the women to whom he had spoken so gently, so calmly, everyday. “Attempt to lie and I shall send you to Him without a face to cry with!”

The Marquis quieted, perhaps realising he was not about to immediately die.

“How did you get this coach? Who provided for your escape?”

Federico sat upright, obviously trying hard to give the impression he was not intimidated. "I do not know of what you speak about. I have done no wrong, I was released rightly so."

Dimitri frowned, but he moved on. There was no guarantee the driver would not awaken soon, and even if Rukov could render him unconscious again, they could not afford to tarry long. “Why did you attempt to assassinate the Prince? Who ordered you to?”

"I take orders from no one." was his indignant reply, even though he was obviously taking orders from Dimitri at the very moment. "Besides... if the Prince has released me, I see no reason why I should be made to answer your questions." He then turned his head towards the direction of the small window away from Dimitri, a physical refusal to say a word more.

“The Prince released...” Dimitri murmured to himself. Even without Frederico’s eyes on him, he did not allow his face to manifest his shock, for there was always the chance it could sneak into his voice. Instead, heavy sarcasm layered thickly over his tone, for the mere idea could not be said aloud in seriousness.

“Innocent, you say? I suppose His Highness mistakenly thought you tried to kill him.” He gripped the Marquis’ shoulder tightly. “I remind you that you have at least one good reason to answer me well, and you saw it behind my cloak.”

Federico's eyes glanced between the hand firmly on his shoulder and the "good reason" to answer. His eyes blinked a few times as if he was trying to take in the severity of his predicament. He spoke with a slightly lowered voice, his gaze fixed straight ahead of him.

"I have done what I have done. I allowed my pride to overtake me and I threatened the Prince." His jaw locked as a vision played in his eyes. "If you wish to know if his life is in danger, I say truthfully I shall not step foot in that palace again. There are greater dangers for the boy than a simple Marquis."

Dimitri scowled; somewhere between then and now, a lie had been told. First the man claimed himself innocent, then he admitted to threatening the Prince? Yet both stories had their own additional problems: if he was innocent, why had the Prince thrown him into prison? And if he was guilty, then how did he escape? His vague references to what exactly he “had done” annoyed the Duc, for it seemed to emanate a stench of concealment that spoke of more complications to come.

But the Marquis was laying a larger bait before him, and loath as he was to take it up, irritated as he was that he kept having to jump from semi-answered question to semi-answered question; Dimitri could not afford to overlook any other threat to the Prince’s life.

“Do tell.”

He kept his hold on Frederico’s shoulder, but he did not force the man to look at him. If the Marquis spoke more freely when he thought he had some control of the situation, even if it was just the choice of not looking at him, Dimitri was happy to give him the illusion.

"Surely a man of your...caliber...", Federico's eyes roamed to the weapon Dimitri had gladly brought his attention to earlier before continuing, "knows that someone of my rank and stature would never speak ill of the royal family. As I most certainly do not wish to see the inside of the royal dungeons again."

Federico's gaze once again fell to the opposite wall of the carriage, a slight spark of revenge danced in his eyes. "The Prince is young, his loyalty fierce. However the Queen he protects is not as innocent as she seems. The royal guards do not protect the royals from their subjects. No, they protect the royals from themselves."

He shifted his stare to meet with Dimitri's own, a devious glint appearing in his eyes as the words he would utter next seeped into his mind. "If you truly wish to protect the naive Prince, you'd do good to do so against the threat that dwells across the hall."

Dimitri himself did not shift, meeting the Marquis’ gaze with a grey, unmoving stare. One might envision the gears clicking to place in his dark head, matching cogs to teeth, separating and merging into another combination, another, and another. Perhaps he was imagining what the Marquis meant, or wondering how he knew to begin with. Perhaps he was considering how much of his words were truth, and what were ill-timed attempts to lie.

In any case, two sharp knocks ensured that Frederico—and, perhaps, Dimitri himself—would never know.

He released the shoulder without a word, pushing open the carriage door and stepping through it. There was a dreadful steadiness to his movement; it did not have the jerkiness of a man whose time had run out, who needed to leave now lest his cover be blown. It showed no indication that their conversation was over.

“You will certainly not see the royal dungeons again,” Dimitri agreed quietly. His grey eyes were thoughtful and thinking.

They showed no indication when he reached for his pistol, swifter than a blink, a gasp, a breath; and shot.

Marie-Elisabeth & César - In the Hallways
 

“You’re certainly right” she said, glancing down at her voluminous black skirts, adjusting the sash slightly “As enjoyable as a trip outdoors with such intriguing company promises to be, I would be quite the icicle if I venture outside in my current attire”. She stifled a laugh threatening to come forth at the mental image, aware of how improper it would have seemed to anyone watching.

Inwardly she was wishing to give herself a swift kick in the leg for feeling so giggly and happy. A poor young woman had just left this world, and here she was enjoying herself in the company of a handsome young man. And one who was married with children at that. But he seemed not to make any mention of his wife, so she chose not to either.

She thought the Marquise certainly must be a lucky young woman though, to have a husband like the Marquis. A young and handsome man who obviously adored their children, despite them not being sons and heirs. Yes, she certainly was lucky.

Marie-Elisabeth had always harboured a secret wish to have a little girl herself. Of course she would never in a million years have traded Charles for a thousand girls, she loved him more than life itself. But she had always thought it would be nice to have a little girl with her big blonde curls, to play girlish games with and dress up in lovely dresses. Her stepdaughters were far to close in age to her, and were not even overly friendly with her. But her husband had been getting on in years, and she had not conceived another child after Charles was born.

Marie-Elisabeth then quickly gave herself a mental shake to clear her depressing thoughts, wanting to remain in a relativly pleasant mood.

She looked over at her companion and smiled, gesturing down the hallway to where her suite was. “My rooms are just down there, it won’t take long for me to get my coat. I’m just across from the Blue Salon, right next to Baroness Flight”.

She placed her hand back on his arm and the two started down the hallway towards her rooms. Very few people were out and about, and those that were seemed like black clad ghosts of themselves, talking in hushed voices and staring at the floor as they passed by.

“We shall have to make sure to get your outerwear once I’ve gotten mine Marquis” she said, just as they reached her door “I’m sure those lovely little girls of yours don’t want their papa brought back to them blue and frozen from cold”.


((OOC: They're not going riding, I think they're just going to go walking in the gardens. Hope you don't mind me moving them along either Atropa ))

((What can I say? I just got my exam timetable, but the whole of Berkshire has put the easter holidays off so I have to do my school work and everything else at once. On top of that I have no plans for Mercy..... so I guess i am still here just not really paying much attention at the moment, which will change of Friday i promise!))

César & Marie-Elisabeth - outside Marie-Elisabeth's room
 

Walking slowly across the meticulously polished marble floor, the steps of the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan and Comtesse de Valois echoed in the spacious and lavishly decorated Palace entrance. If the Grand Dining Room had been quiet, here silence was complete. The very gateway to the Palace, usually bustling with life, of people arriving and departing, socializing and milling about, of servants hurrying from one chore to the next. This afternoon, it was empty, as though the death of the Princess was roaming the very hallways itself, and most courtiers stayed inside their suites, safely locked away from it's icey touch, scared that if they set foot outside, they too would fall victim to the nameless, faceless disease that had claimed Adalita's life. The only sign that the young companions were not completely alone, was the faint sound of hushed voices coming from one of the adjoining hallways.

"You're certainly right", said the young blonde by César's side, in response to his most 'considerate' observation.

Looking down on the heavy layers upon layers of sombre darkness, she adjusted the delicate sash around her waist, and in by doing so yet again invited César's eyes to wander, even lower this time, to take in her full curvaceous appearance; the landscape of smooth milky white skin of her slender neck and voluptuous bosom, and the narrow waist tempting him to examine just how well his arms would fit around it.

Unlike her last attempt to guide his gaze, this time he indulged her. Himself too, for that matter. From beside her, with her arm upon his own supporting, guiding one, he allowed his eyes to drop from her face and venture south, slowly but without stopping, and then return to lock gazes with her for a moment or two, before glancing ahead to make sure he was not about to walk them straight into a wall or staircase.
'Wouldn't that have made me a fine cavalier?' he mused to himself with smirk. He never had been one to take himself all too seriously.

"As enjoyable as a trip outdoors with such intriguing company promises to be", the pretty Comtesse continued, "... I would be quite the icicle if I venture outside in my current attire."

Smirk broadening into a full on charming smile on his lips, César could see one was tugging at hers as well, restrained only by what he assumed was her awareness that laughing was not what one wanted to be seen doing this afternoon.
Quite a pity, as he was rather keen on the idea of hearing her do just that. Would it sound like a young girl's giggle, the elusive sound of a small, babbling brook? Or was it a soft but hearty chuckle, hushed like gentle gusts of summer breeze? Or anything and everything in between? Yes, indeed, that too was another thing to add to the list of discoveries he intended to make regarding the Comtesse de Valois.

"My rooms are just down there, it won’t take long for me to get my coat."

With a soft motion of her hand, Marie-Elisabeth indicated in what direction César should be leading her.

"I'm just across from the Blue Salon, right next to Baroness Flight", she added as they started toward the hallway.

Ah, mission accomplished. With subtle and seemingly innocently courteous means, César had succeeded with exactly the thing he'd had in mind; to find out which suite was hers. Not that he was planning any impromptu visits anytime soon, but one never did know if and when such knowledge could come in handy. Although he had yet to learn who this Baroness Flight was and where she resided, the Blue Salon was easy enough to find, and so even if he hadn't been just about to escort the Comtesse directly to her suite, he was sure he would've been able to find it anyway, based on that small but highly educational piece of information.

"We shall have to make sure to get your outerwear once I’ve gotten mine Marquis", the Comtesse said as they came to a halt outside one of doors in the hallway. "I'm sure those lovely little girls of yours don't want their papa brought back to them blue and frozen from cold."

At that, César couldn't resist a soft chuckle, despite the judgemental stares of an older couple that were just passing by the younger one in the hallway. He knew all too well how Adèle and Angélique had fussed over him the last time he'd remained in bed for the majority of the day. Though that had hardly been due to having been outside in the cold, but rather that nasty headache that would usually follow in the wake of a night of far too much champagne.

"With the grandeur of this place, I fear it would be nightfall before we made it outside", he said with an amused smile still clinging to his lips. "Allow me to save us the time, by sending one of the servants for it instead."

Eyes quickly scanning the the hallway, his gaze soon fell upon a worn, middleaged maid just exiting another room further down the hall, and he snapped his fingers to get her attention, with every bit the mannerism of the hign born nobleman that he was.

"You there", he said. "I shall be needing my winter coat in a few minutes. Have it brough to the Palace entrance."

Just straightening herself from her greeting bow of respect and submission, the maid immediately gave another, and then hurried off towards the opposite wing of the Palace. Despite having been in court for less than a full day, César was already known, as the servants knew they did well to keep themselves aware of who was who within the walls of this place.

With the woman having taken only the first step on her way to fetch him his coat, César turned his attention back to Marie-Elisabeth, and gave a slight bow, while motioning for her door; a gestue telling her that he would be waiting where he was, while she entered her suite to get her outerwear, thus allowing her whatever time she might possibly need to 'freshen up', as the ladies called it when they would have adjustments made to their appearance, be it something as small as straightening their clothes or guiding a lock of hair back into place, to redressing altogether.

Marie-Elisabeth & César - In the Hallways and her room
 

When the older couple had shot them a disapproving look in the hallway, Marie-Elisabeth had resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them or pull a face, if only for sheer amusement. She never had reconciled herself to the status of a widow, and never really liked having to conduct herself accordingly. But she did it of course, she would never dream of not showing the proper respect to Charles’ memory. But there were times that all she really wanted to do was act like the child she had been before she was married off.

She smiled when the Marquis gestured at her door and curtsied slightly. “I won’t be very long, I’ll just get my outer things and we can be on our way”. She opened the door and stepped into her rooms, carefully shutting it behind her.

Once behind the heavy wooden door she let out a giddy laugh that had been threatening to burst from her lips all morning. She just couldn’t stop it; she was in that good of a mood. It was all she could do to stop herself from doing a dance around the room with one of the pillows, and probably would have had her maid not come in from the adjoining room, attracted by the laughter.

“Madame”, she said, curtsying respectfully, with a curious tone to her voice.

“Ah, there you are” Marie-Elisabeth said, composing herself slightly “I require my rabbit coat, you know that nice warm white one with the lovely embroidery and trim on it. And the muff that matches. And do be quick about it”. The woman nodded and hurried off to do as she was bid, while Marie-Elisabeth trailed over to the mirror.

She pulled that face she had been wanting to and giggled again, reaching up to straighten out some of her curls that had gotten askew over the course of the day. The maid soon came back with her coat, and Marie-Elisabeth got up and raised her arms for the woman to help her into it.

As the laces were being done up the front, she smiled and ran a hand across the sleeve, enjoying how soft it felt. It was her favourite coat, and she knew she looked good in it as well. Charles had gotten it for her one winter, and spent the rest of the season calling her his little golden snow angel.

Marie-Elisabeth thanked the woman when she was dressed, taking the muff from her hands before waving her off. She slipped it over one arm, twirling around a few times to admire the effect. She decided on leaving the hood down for the moment, no sense in spoiling a hair do unless it was absolutely necessary. With a final glance in the mirror she turned and winked at her reflection.

“Now who wouldn’t consider you absolutely lovely Lisabeth” she said to herself, straightening her coat before walking back across the room to the door.

She pushed it open with a bright smile for the man waiting in front of it. “I do hope I didn’t take too long Marquis” she said, looking apologetic “Im sure you know how we ladies can be when getting ourselves ready. But I did do my utmost to hurry so you wouldn’t have to stand around out here by yourself for ages”.


(((OOC: I was thinking something similar to what Natalie Dormer is wearing as Anne Boleyn in the Tudors promos, where JRM says he wants to present her as future queen of england, for season2 for her coat. This is the best pic I could find right here, and yes I know what it looks like but that part's not dirty in the show, I promise.But Marie-Elisabeth is SO not wearing the stupid hat )))

Octavien & Isabella - Isabella's Salon
 

In this world, there were few people that possessed the ability to wield control over the thoughts that passed through their mind. A long time ago, when Octavien had still been little more than a child, he had found that he was not one of them. Not that he had ever wished for such complete power of the mind, not really, truly wished for it. But now, standing there in Isabella's Salon, with her finally in his arms again, and their lips pressed tightly together at long last, he did.

His chest should be filled to the brim with a feeling of relief, his heart should be throbbing with the overwhelming affection he held for her, and he should be lost in the awareness of having her so close, after having his arms feel so very, very empty for the past couple of days. His head should be swimming with every little sensation of her pressing against him, of everything from the hunger in her kiss to simple warmth of her body.

And yet, all he could think about was the realization that had just dawned on him; with Adalita gone, the heavy burden of the responsibility and the expectations of the entire Kingdom, to produce an heir to the throne were now once again placed upon the shoulders of the King and Queen. Before long, the same realization would occur to King Edouard, if it hadn't already, and he would come seeking Isabella to spend the nights with her, in the hopes that fate would smile upon him after the tragic loss of his only daughter, and grant him another heir.

It if hadn't stung him so bad, Octavien would've almost thought it ironic. Here he had just ridded himself of a rival - whether it'd been one from the past or not - only to be presented with yet another. One that he could do nothing about. Absolutely nothing. Soon enough, he would have to keep to his own bed, and suffer the lonely nights in it, knowing that across the hall, the King would be claiming his rightful place next to Isabella. Oh, how that thought plagued him.

Though luckily, it seemed there was still a God, and one that had mercy on the young Prince, for while he had little control over what thoughts intruded on his peace of mind, he did hold enough will-power to banish them, even if it was just for a little while.

"I assure you", came Isabella's soft voice, as though she had been made to speak in order to help him shake the cold shackles that were keeping him from surrendering completely to the intimacy between them. "I am quite well now that I am with you."

It worked. As he gazed down upon her face once again, the visions that had been playing inside his head, of her in the arms of her husband, shattered, and left only tiny shards to hurt him no more right now, but instead dig deeper into his soul only once he was alone. Seeing the look in her eyes, the way they beckoned him to kiss her anew, a tiny smile emerged on his lips, and he submitted willingly to her silent request.

For how long, he didn't know. All he knew once she began pulling away, was that it had not been long enough. He still yearned to have her close, to leave the Salon behind and seek the comfort of her bed, to block out the rest of the world and share hours of passion together, followed by a few more of the intimate pillow talk he had grown so very fond of.
But, he knew they couldn't, and so settled for what they could.

"My servants tell me there is a young family that is visiting us", Isabella said as she began leading him to one of the many and inviting couches to sit. "Some of them seem unable to contain themselves with the fact that there are little girls around. However what caught my attention is they say that the family seems to know you."

Little more was needed for a new smile to appear on Octavien's lips, as he found it impossible not to smile at the thought of finally having someone around whom he could trust, and confide in, someone whose presence in this court was guaranteed to provide for some action, and to have Octavien think of other things than the recent betrayals and backstabbings for once. For when not with Isabella, it seemed that was what had occupied most of his thoughts.

"Ah, yes", he said as they sat down together, and absent-mindedly allowed his fingers to interlace themselves with hers. "They are indeed close friends of mine. None other than the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, his lovely wife the Marquise, and their two beautiful daughters."

Glancing at her, and seeing that she had yet to make the connection between title and the roguish and adventurous friend of his that he had mentioned on occasion, his smile widened.

"César", he added as a most brief explanation. "I shall have to introduce you to them. Joséphine is a most endearing young lady. I think you'll like her."

Having said that, his smile changed ever so slightly, ending up looking very similar to a smirk.

"But beware of César", he said, and leaned closer to give her stern and yet playfully daring look. "His smile alone has been known to make even the most chaste of women weak at the knees."



(((ooc: Shenan - I figured that since César is one of his best friends, Octavien ought to have mentioned him, so... )))

César & Marie-Elisabeth - Palace gardens
 

(((ooc: Sorry for taking so long. Was trying to get something up last night, but I kept getting stuck.)))


Most women, César had learned over the years, tended to play games. Be they games of deception, manipulation or flirtation, played for one or several of a wide variety of reasons; money, fame and recognition, love, lust, greed, vengeance, or just plain simple fun.
There was no end to the possibilities of what was their drive, and how creative they would get in achieving their goals, no matter how small. It was as though since they officially had little say in the important matters of society, economy and religion, they would seize any opportunity to practice what power they did have, using friends, family and suitors in the process, even servants and other commoners at times. Sometimes it was harmless, sometimes it was anything but. Sometimes there was a cunning mind behind it, and sometimes it simply came so natural that the woman in question didn't even realize she was doing it.

But, regardless of the reasons, the intentions and the methods, it was all a trait so common among the fairer sex that César would sometimes find himself wondering if it was simply a part of the natural heritage of women. Like, say, maternal instinct, and their overall softer, gentler disposition, and the generally weaker physical build than that of men. In short; part of what made them women.

The sweet Comtesse was no exception. She had been playing games with him ever since the very beginning, beckoning his eyes to roam where she wished them to, accentuating her assets for the enjoyment of enticing him, and to leave him fully aware that he was indeed in the company of a beautiful young woman. At times, she had allowed the look in her eyes and her tone of voice speak louder than the actual words she pronounced, though never once passing that fine line between subtle, 'innocent' playfulness, and suggestive vulgarity. She played her game very well indeed.
César knew. He was, unlike most men, not an unsuspecting target who didn't recognize the small tricks she used in order to guarantee that he was kept intrigued by her. He was a willing participant, and had already countered her strategic move once, showing her that she was not the only one with a knack for playing games, and that if she wanted to raise the stakes a little bit, he was not opposed it.

Which was why as the Comtesse entered her suite, César was prepared to spend the next halfhour in the hallway. At least. Despite what they might say, women so loved to keep a man waiting, loving the fact that the promise of another little while in their female company could make him willing to waste his oh-so-precious time doing nothing but wait, that their appeal to him was so great that he would submit to them, awaiting the moment they would see fit to grant him the pleasure of their company again, much like a loyal subject would.

However, while some young men at this point would assume that their interest in the young lady in question was returned, that she too was experiencing the faint, tingling sensation of attraction, César knew better than to base his overall impression of the Comtesse's feelings towards him, on her playful gestures and glances alone. There were women, and plenty of them, who would seize any opportunity to bask in the attention of men, attracted to them or not. To such women, men were mostly just means to an end; that of feeling desirable.
Though this did not mean that César had not picked up on the fact that he, in her eyes, was not completely boring and bland. He had caught the satisfaction in that smirk she had tried to conceal, and it had not been the smug satisfaction of someone simply enjoying him stroking their ego. There was more to it than that.
But, how much more exactly, was yet to be revealed.

With the Comtesse having entered her suite, and him being prepared for being kept waiting quite a while, César soon busied himself with examaning the hallway in which he waited a little further, strolling slowly along the walls, inspecting the many portraits and other paintings lining them. He might be waiting like a loyal subject, but he would not just idly stand around like one.

Much to his surprise, however, his wait turned out to be far shorter than he had expected. No more than five, possibly ten minutes could've passed when the door to the Comtesse's suite opened once more, and she re-emerged, now wearing a most lovely rabbit fur coat, whose creamy white nuance seemed to deepen the golden glow of her locks. A most flattering garment indeed.

"I do hope I didn’t take too long Marquis", she said, with the smile so bright it brought sparkles to her eyes, turning a little bit more guilty. "I'm sure you know how we ladies can be when getting ourselves ready. But I did do my utmost to hurry so you wouldn’t have to stand around out here by yourself for ages."

César, who had not yet made it very far from her door and returned when it had opened, inclined his head in understanding and acceptance of her indirect apology, giving a gentle smile of his own.

"Even if it had been hours, it would've been time well spent", he said and offered her his arm once more.

Together they returned to the Palace entrance, where César was pleased to find one of his own servants waiting with the coat he had asked be brought there; a beautiful polecat fur shimmerig in all shades of brown depending on how the light hit it. With a little assitance from the servant, it soon hung heavily from his shoulders, and he and Marie-Elisabeth could finally leave the warmth of the Palace behind and step outside into the chilly winter air, balanced by the merciful rays of comforting sunlight.

"Forgive me for my curiousity, should you find it intrusive", he said as they slowly made their way down the marble steps, her arm once again resting gently around his supporting one. "But I do believe you never did tell me to what we owe the pleasure of your presence here at court? You only told me to what we do not."

Marie-Elisabeth & César - Wandering around outside
 

Marie-Elisabeth regularly had a certain look on her face that people often commented as being similar to the cat that got the canary. Either that or they would describe it as her “Up to something” face. As they walked down the marble steps and she thought over his previous comment, she knew it was on her face for anyone to see. And what was more she really didn’t care.

“It’s not like anyone’s out here to see us right now anyway” she thought, glancing behind them at the palace “Everyone’s in there being morose little ghosts”. She quickly turned back to her companion when he asked her a question though.

"Forgive me for my curiosity should you find it intrusive, But I do believe you never did tell me to what we owe the pleasure of your presence here at court? You only told me to what we do not."

“Oh not intrusive at all, I assure you” she said, looking over at him as they walked “It’s not all to complicated of a reason, though it might seem so. I stayed at home after my husband passed away to raise my son. I know it’s silly, but I wanted to avoid giving my Charles over to the care of strangers before I had to”.

She sighed slightly, almost raising her free hand to touch her locket but stopping realizing she couldn’t through the thick coat.

“But I knew it had to be done eventually, after all he has to officially take his father’s place as Comte as soon as he is old enough. And I”, she paused for a brief moment, to consider her next choice of words. She was trying to figure out a way to say what she wanted to without sounding completely disrespectful.

“I was becoming dissatisfied with my life. With all due and proper respect to my late husband, mourning is not supposed to last for the rest of one’s life. Despite what some people like to think is proper, it’s entirely ridiculous to expect a young woman like me to hole herself up in seclusion forever. I wanted to get out of there to have some fun with my life, to meet exciting people, not sit around with ghosts and memories”.

Once again giving herself a mental shake for the accuracy of her nickname, Marie-Elisabeth stopped talking and suddenly found the trim of her coat very interesting.

“I know how that must sound to you Marquis” she said, still glancing at her coat “But it’s the truth, at least to me it is”.

((OOC: Trust me, I don't mind the taking a bit I'm on huge deadlines for the paper I work at right now, it's nuts. Final edition YAY. Oh and I'm working on a sim Marie-Elisabeth, will post piccys later))

Isabella & Octavien
 

((OOC: Atropa - Kinda rushed. I'm sorry!
))

Isabella watched as Octavien’s face lit up with a different type of a smile, one that proved she had been correct in saying the visitors were friends of his. “Ah, yes,” his words confirmed what she had seen in his face. As he listed their titles Isabella looked expectantly, trying to fish the names out of the large amount floating around in her head. Though 'Mont-de-Marsan' was vaguely familiar, she couldn’t quite place it. Certainly she had not met the man, it was most likely mentioned briefly in conversation. Thankfully Octavien could tell she was struggling to place the name and rescued her quite promptly. “Cesar”, he explained. The single word changed Isabella’s face entirely from one of questioning to one of understanding. Cesar, the man whom seemed to always get himself in trouble, Octavien’s friend who he’s had to rescue quite a few times. Or so the tale goes. Isabella had encouraged Octavien to speak of his friends from his youth, in an effort to get to know him as a man better.

“I shall have to introduce you to them. Josephine is a most endearing young lady. I think you’ll like her.” Isabella’s face remained in its soft smile. It was nice to see his face lit up over the simple pleasures of friends in the palace. If she wasn’t careful, she could feel a tad amount of jealousy creep over her. She had no such friends in her life. Granted there was Comte d’Cognac, but even then he was more of a business partner than a true friend. Until Octavien stole her heart Isabella's only true confidant had been Margret. Even still, she knew far more about the true woman that hid under the title of queen than anyone else. She had a history with Isabella, years of being her maid, of knowing all her dark little secrets. There was an intimate knowledge that only time could provide.

Isabella’s thoughts were interrupted when she noticed Octavien’s grin morph into a smirk, “But beware of Cesar”, he added as he leaned in closer, a youthful look in his eyes, “His smile alone has been known to make even the most chaste of women weak at the knees.” His words drew out her own playful smile. As her eyebrows rose, she imitated the most innocent voice she could possibly muster, “Hmm… perhaps the most charming Prince Octavien Lahance finally has some competition within the palace walls?” She shot him a playful glance. “By the tales you have shared, it sounds as if the servant girls will have much to gossip and giggle about.”

Her playful smile slowly faded from her face, being replaced with a much more gentle upturn of her lips. One that shown with contentment yet burned with desire. Seeing Octavien with happiness, however temporary, despite the large cloud of gloom that was settled over the palace just reminded her of why she had fallen for him so completely. It was as if he held the very essence of life in his hands. No matter what she was facing, he always stood there, offering it to her. She couldn’t help but wonder how he was feeling, or what he thought about the fact that they sat right next to each other, their hands still clasped together less than 24 hours after Adalita, after his wife, passed. Granted she had been his wife by name only, but wasn’t that the nature of all marriages? Unless you were a peasant, that was how things worked.

However she knew Octavien well enough to know that he held certain things in high regard. Despite the true reasons for becoming Prince he had been by her side when Adalita drew her last breath. Would he consider comforting Isabella in the most intimate of ways as disrespecting the now gone Princess? She searched his eyes, knowing he had to have seen the question within her. The look she’s given him so many times, inviting him to embrace her. Her voice was much quieter now as she continued, “I do hope your recalling boyhood adventures together will not consume all of your time.” It was her subtle hint, the language they had each spoken fluently. They had to master it, so their conversations would appear innocent if there had been ears lurking in the shadows. She knew he would understand the true nature of the statement.

César & Marie-Elisabeth - Palace gardens
 

All his life, César had been the kind of person who would usually be rather frank about how he felt about the people around him. Those whose company he appreciated and cared for would find him easy to get along with, although maybe a bit intense and unruly at times. And those whom he simply did not like, would be left with little doubt about it. He could be very blunt, in words and actions alike, sometimes even downright mean, if he felt someone deserved it, for whatever reason. Throughout the years, he'd left more than one pair of cheeks flushing red with embarrasment and indignation.

But just as he could be arrogant and condescending, he could be equally sweet and charming, and those that knew him well knew that he carried a most generous heart, and a carefree mind of adventurous youth. He adored his wife and daughters, and would go to great lengths to keep them happy, and the few women that had enjoyed the inofficial title of being his head mistresses could testify that they were indeed well looked after as well. Dresses, jewelry and small getaway mansions in the country were just some of the gifts his money had bought them.

However, as is usually the case with any rule, there was of course exceptions to this one as well. There were times when César was neither fire nor ice, when he knew that what served his interests best was to find a middleground. Most of those times, it was a matter of business, or possibly social standing, if dealing with someone who could make life more difficult for him than he liked for it to be. For while he might not shy away from being perfectly frank with most other nobles, even those that outranked him, such as Ducs and Duchesses, one would never find him insulting any member of the royal family. Unless, of course, their name was Octavien, and they were a childhood friend of his, and even then the level of gravity in his words would be limited (though that would have more to do with the fact that he loved Octavien like a brother, rather than expecting that insulting him could have dire consequences).

The Comtesse, however, had nothing to do neither with the royals, nor with business, and she was below César in rank, and so in her case, the trouble of finding a middleground was naught. He enjoyed her company, and had no trouble showing it by giving her his full attention when she spoke, thus breaking away from gazing out over the wintery gardens.

"Oh not intrusive at all, I assure you," she said and turned her head to look at him, to which he gave a soft smile.

As he listened, she told him about her reasons for coming to court, and he couldn't help but to allow his smile to widen as she explained how she had wanted to raise her son herself. It would seem that their first common ground was also their biggest one; their love of their children. It was obvious that she cared as much for her son as he did for his daughters, and so he fully understood what she was talking about, and her reluctance to hand the education of her son over to someone else. And in a way, he could relate, for while he still had his daughters around him, they did spend most of their time with their nanny, or possibly their mother. They were supposed to grow into properly mannered ladies after all, and César's tendency to excite them and have them howling with laughter, as well as telling them stories of his shenanigans and having them announce that they too wanted to go hunting someday, really didn't help.

However, the smile on his lips faded slightly and transformed into a more curious one, when the Comtesse stopped herself mid-sentence, and hesitated for a few seconds before continuing;

"I was becoming dissatisfied with my life", she said. "With all due and proper respect to my late husband, mourning is not supposed to last for the rest of one’s life. Despite what some people like to think is proper, it’s entirely ridiculous to expect a young woman like me to hole herself up in seclusion forever. I wanted to get out of there to have some fun with my life, to meet exciting people, not sit around with ghosts and memories."

There she cut herself off once more, and looked down, pretending to be studying the trim of her snow white fur, much like someone who could not bring themselves to look at the person they were talking to, in fear of seeing judgement and disapproval in their eyes.

"I know how that must sound to you Marquis", she added. "But it’s the truth, at least to me it is."

To most, her words might indeed have sounded most improper and shocking, as a young widow such as her was expected to mourn, and have "fun" be the last thing on her mind.
But César?
César found it refreshing. He himself was not one to dwell on the sorrows of the past. He would much rather enjoy the present, and make each day count, so that when he himself was on his deathbed, his life would not be just another boring story of proper things done and expectations fulfilled, and nothing more.

"You speak as though you expect me to find faults in what you've told me," he said and gave her a sidelong glance, with amusement dancing in his eyes as he continued while leading her down one of the main paths. "Though I can not imagine why. It sounds to me like the reasoning of a sound mind, Comtesse."

He didn't even bother asking how long it had been since her late husband had passed away, simply because he didn't think it mattered. She had obviously cared for her husband, and so was sure to have mourned him. Whether it had been for a year, or a week didn't matter. Time did not decide the sincerity of her feelings.

"And", he added with a somewhat suggestive smile. "If there is anything I can do to assist you in such aspiration, do let me know, for I shall be happy to do my very best."

Marie-Elisabeth & César - Wandering around outside
 

“You really don’t find fault with it” she said, looking up at him with an expression of surprise on her face “Really? Because if so I’m glad to hear that. Far to many people fault me for saying things like that, I was worried you’d do the same”. She smiled at him as they continued going down the main path of the garden, feeling immensely relieved.

Marie-Elisabeth didn’t know exactly why she had said what she had, generally she tended to keep details like that to herself. People didn’t like to hear them, they liked to imagine the poor pretty little widow in mourning for her husband. She had cared for Charles, she really had. Not passionately loved him but she had cared about him. And she had mourned his death. When someone who adores you that much and caters to your every whim is no longer there, of course you miss them. Then there was the fact that he had given her the most important thing in her life, the young son who was the centre of her world. But she wasn't about to lock herself away in a tower and cry for the rest of her life. Far from it in fact.

“It’s just not fair to expect anyone to throw their lives away because someone’s no longer with us” she said as they continued walking “If it had been the other way around, no one would have faulted Charles for remarrying within a few months. But I come to the court here after three years and suddenly I’m a horrible woman All I want is to get on with my life, and that’s not wrong”.

She looked back up at him, only to catch the look on his face as he said "If there is anything I can do to assist you in such aspiration, do let me know, for I shall be happy to do my very best."

Marie-Elisabeth's favourite look quickly popped back up on her face and once again she really didn’t bother trying to get rid of it. She was intrigued by him, and was interested to see exactly what he had in mind with his statement. She was defiantly starting to like this Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan.

“Oh is that true Marquis” she eventually said, her tone of voice mimicking his “Well I must say you’re certainly doing an admirable job so far. You’ve been most entertaining company today”.

César & Marie-Elisabeth - palace gardens
 

When asked by the surprised Comtesse if he really hadn't found anything wrong with what she had said about mourning her husband, and told that she had expected him to, just like everyone else seemed to do, César's smile broadened, and he shook his head, gently but decisively. He fully agreed with every word, and did not hesitate to be upfront about it. Born into a family of high nobility, the rules of proper conduct had been fed to him along with the mother's milk, and he knew exactly how to act and how to speak, as did he know what he was supposed to think about the Comtesse now, for being so unwilling to wither away in her mansion. But far be it from César to do anything just because he was expected to. He would go his own way, rather than follow the path someone else had drawn for him. Even the arranged marriage to Joséphine wasn't likely to have happened, had he not been instantly attracted to her.
This, however, did not mean he was a complete rebel, as being raised as a nobleman was bound to infuse him with at least some sense of pride and savoir vivre. There were great a many aristocratic views that he agreed with. It was just that they mostly had to do with the outlook on society, rather than individuals.

Three years, she had said. Three years since her husband had passed away. Why, it was no wonder she had been going stir-crazy. Had it been César, he would've been climbing the walls within weeks. Though in his case, it would've been far more acceptable if he had returned to the social scene in a few months, much like the Comtesse had said.
But, no sooner had that thought started passing through his mind, than he promptly cut it off. Imagining what his life would be like as a widower seemed most morbid, and one never did know what powerful forces of nature and fate one might set into motion with one thought alone. Toying with ideas of someone's death could prove a most fateful thing.
And, imagining Joséphine being dead and gone felt like a betrayal.

Oddly enough, courting other women didn't.

Mostly, if coming across a woman he found attractive, he would settle for simply flirting with her, without any qualms whatsoever (as long as Joséphine wasn't around, of course), but even on the occasions when he went further by actually pursuing and eventually bedding a woman that was not his wife, it did not cause even the slightest pinprick of guilt in his mind. It was simply the way things worked.

And he so enjoyed putting his skills as a ladies man to the test; piquing their interest, and figuring out what tactics would work the best on each of them. They were all so very different, and all required different methods and tricks. With some, he could play with subtleties and seemingly innocent looks and gestures. Others required more direct approaches.

Comtesse de Valois belonged to the former, having apparently recognized his interest for what it was even at a first glance, and now clearly picking up on his tone of voice, as she mimicked it well indeed when replying;

"Oh, is that true Marquis", she said, with that look of mischief shining through the veil of youthful innocence even more clearly than before. "Well I must say you're certainly doing an admirable job so far. You've been most entertaining company today."

As always when recieving a compliment - whether it be strictly polite or part of the game the two of them were currently playing - César inclined his head slightly in a gesture of gratitude of such kind words.

"Thank you, Comtesse", he said, still with that same charmingly suggestive smile on his lips. "But I can not possibly take full credit for it, for I have found your company most inspiring to entertain."

At a casually slow pace for their pleasant little stroll, the young companions were now rounding one of the corners of the Palace, and were greeted by the sight of the Palace stables. Much like the Palace itself, it was a magnificent construction, built to house the very finest of horses in the best of ways.

Having spent the last couple of days cooped up in his carriage, the mere sight of it made César's limbs ache with a desire to climb onto the back of a horse, and stretch out in a breakneck gallop along the many paths running through the forrest and the surrounding countryside. He so loved the sensation of the ground rushing past underneath him in a blur of earthy colors, and the wind running through his hair, leaving it wild and tangled and hanging into his eyes that would be sparkling with pure joy of being alive.

"Do you ride, Comtesse?" he asked, and then turned his head to look at her as he continued; "While it is getting rather late, and is still a bit chilly for riding, I do so long to see and explore our beautiful surroundings. I would be most honored if you would consider joining me sometime?"

Marie-Elisabeth & César - Palace Gardens
 

"Do you ride, Comtesse?" he asked, and then turned his head to look at her as he continued; "While it is getting rather late, and is still a bit chilly for riding, I do so long to see and explore our beautiful surroundings. I would be most honored if you would consider joining me sometime?"

Marie-Elisabeth was trying rather hard to keep the decidedly unladylike thoughts from creeping into her mind at the moment. She was quite hard pressed not to let any of them float to the surface, and carefully twisted them into more seemingly innocent sounding ones. Of course they really weren’t, but that was no one else’s business but her own. And the Marquis' of course.

She was quite enjoying this little game the two of them were playing, and was curious to see just how far he intended to play it. He seemed to be able to see the meaning behind every word she said, even if she phrased them in terms a nun would find no fault with. Which of course intrigued her all the more.

“I would love to go riding with you Marquis” she answered, returning his gaze “I know it will be absolutely lovely around here once it warms up a bit”

She then turned to look toward the stables. “I used to ride more often” she said “But unfortunately my poor old horse was getting on in years and passed away quite some time ago. I never did find another one gentle enough for me to ride, so I’m somewhat out of practise. You’ll have to give me your word not to laugh at me if I’m not the most skilled rider around here”.

She laughed slightly and turned her head back to face him. “You'll have to believe me when I say that chasing an energetic little boy around doesn’t leave you much time for idle pleasures like horseback riding. I was thinking about getting another horse, but I just never got around to it. Too busy with my little chou d’amour I suppose. Though he is quite the little horseman in his own right, despite his mother being less than prefect at it ”.

She smiled when she had finished talking, imagining the excited look on Charles' face if he were able to see the stables in front of them.


(((OOC: Sorry for the lateness and probable craposity of my post. Just couldn't think of a decent ending. I just got home from our final deadline meeting for the next issue of the paper and I'm wiped. *snickers at the Comtesse's dirty mind and wanders off to make some much needed tea)))

((OOC: Tsk tsk you two! lol I know I've been scarce lately, I appologize as real life just seems to demand full attention sometimes. I do have a goal this next week to get this RP cleaned up. Inactive characters (that haven't been around in a real life month) deleted, maps switched out, scandal database caught up... all that type of stuff. So if your character has not been active in the last month, please know you are in danger of loosing them. If you wish to remain in the RP simply either post an RP post in the thread or PM me and let me know. Thank you!
With that said...

Octavien & Isabella - Isabella's Salon
 

(((ooc: Sorry Shenan, I just couldn't help myself. Marie-Elisabeth's line was just too good not to comment on!
slytherin - Indeed you do!)))


The moment he had mentioned César's name, Octavien saw the thoughtful look disperse from Isabella's face, giving way to one of recognition instead. Really, he had expected nothing less, as the name of his friend alone was bound to conjure memories of the few but colorful stories Octavien had told Isabella about him, and the things the two of them and their circle of friends had done throughout the years. And, he hadn't even told her the most 'memorable' details. He had told her about the bar brawl that César had started, single-handedly, but not how it was only his good name and silver tounge that had saved him from ending up being arrested and spending the night in the town jail. And he had told her how years ago César had once won the head steward from one of his father's rivals' household in a card game. But he hadn't told her that ten minutes earlier, the head steward had already been a member of the de la Valliére household.

He had even told her about the few days he and César had spent at one of César's minor countryside manors, where Octavien had come along as good company and moral support while César conducted a bit of business with a nearby landowner. The first night there had been spent in the company of Madeleine and Anne-Lucie; the former being one of Octavien's 'acquaintances', and the latter being one of César's new conquests. The next day, after the ladies had (luckily) left, another one had arrived; Françoise, another one of César's mistresses. One whose favor he had been struggling to regain, as it had been lost when she had seen him flirt with Anne-Lucie at a social event that all three of them had attended. Much to César's great distress, as they had all sat down in the salon, Françoise had discovered a delicate handkerchief on the floor, and when picking it up to admire the quality and the beautiful embroidery, realized that it had the initials of no other than her young rival, Anne-Lucie de Longpré. Needless to say, she had not been happy, and, being the good friend that he was, Octavien had come to César's rescue by claiming that the young lady had been there to visit him, not César, and that César had only invited her in because Octavien has asked him to. Thus, César had finally won back the heart of Françoise.

And, unlike with the other stories, when telling Isabella this one, Octavien hadn't really left things out.
Much.
Not that it had made much of a difference, as far as making an impact on Isabella and her memory was concerned. The stories had left her with plenty to remember about this friend of Octavien's, and even if it hadn't, the warmth in his voice when speaking of César would've been enough for her to realize that it was a name best to remember.

Though with his remark regarding César's devastatingly charming smile and the effect it had on women, Octavien had paved the way for the kind of conversation that would soon leave César to be a mere front, to mask what was really being said between the young Prince and his Queen. Whatever stories he had told her about César, they would soon fade, just as quickly as they had surfaced, and make way for what was really on their minds this rapidly approaching dusk.

"Hmm...", she said as a smile emerged on her lips as well, along with a look of mischief behind feigned innocence in her eyes, that he knew all to well; it was the very one he had sought to bring out. "Perhaps the most charming Prince Octavien Lahance finally has some competition within the palace walls? By the tales you have shared, it sounds as if the servant girls will have much to gossip and giggle about."

Had the darkness of Adalita's death not still been looming in the corners of his mind, cloaking his awareness even when his thoughts were directed elsewhere, a light chuckle would've pushed itself softly over his lips. Instead, it stopped just shy of slipping out, causing the smile on his lips to simply widen a bit, as he recalled what she had once said about the servant girls whispering and giggling about him.
Indeed César was sure give them something more to giggle about. Though in his case, it was likely to be most intentional, whereas in Octavien's case, it was not.

However the smile soon faded to a mere, gentle curving of his lips, right along with hers, as if they were both following the same path, the same train of thought. The game they were constantly playing did little to lessen the power of his desire to just take her in his arms and seek the comfort of her bed together. Even now, when his focus really should be elsewhere, he could not tear himself away from the overpowering nature of what they shared. And judging by the look in her eyes as she studied his, neither could she. The invitation was there, the subtle glimpse of hunger beckoning him to claim her, coaxing him into making her submit to him, to strip her of the command she was so used to keeping, and had given up so reluctanly at first, but now surrendered willingly.

"I do hope your recalling boyhood adventures together will not consume all of your time", she said, her voice having softened along with her smile, and despite sounding nothing but innocent, as though she was just making friendly conversation, to him it carried the meaning of a thousand words that simply could not be spoken here and now.

Nor did they have to be. During their time together, looks had said more than a lifetime of words ever could.
And so when he responded, it was the look in his eyes that conveyed the real message of his lips.

"While I am delighted to have him here, and eager to catch up as well as reminisce, we both still have families, and duties, to tend to", he said, smiling vaguely and giving her slender hand a soft squeeze, as if to leave it beyond all doubt to her that the 'family' he himself had in mind to tend to, was far, far smaller than that of César's. "I assure you I shall still have plenty of time for tutoring."

Though no sooner had he spoken those words, than his expression darkened momentarily, as a shadow of troubled thoughts flitted across his features. Life really had become so much more complicated since last they had been together, three nights ago. And the reason was not only the death of Adalita, his wife.
There was also a certain meddlesome Baroness.

"But Isabella," he continued in lowered voice, for no one else to hear. "We must be careful. Even more so than we have been, for I fear the walls have more eyes and ears than I thought possible. The day before last, Baroness Flight informed me that she is aware of the nature of our friendship."

Having said that, he paused briefly while thinking back on the conversation, and the less than fond memories it had left him with.

"Though I doubt she realizes the depth of it", he then bitterly added.

The fact that Mercy had warned him not to bring it up with the Queen, was of little concern to him. In the light of what she would have to sacrifice in order to 'punish' him for going against her presumptuous wishes - the secret that was not only his, but also the secret of the person she indirectly claimed she wanted to protect, Isabella, who would be hurt far more than him if it was made known - Mercy did not scare him.
Loosing Isabella due to lying to her and keeping things from her, or for any reason for that matter, did.

Furthermore, he did trust Isabella far more than he would ever trust Mercy Flight. Not only because of his love for Isabella, but because she had a talent for something that the notorious Baroness obviously did not; knowing when to keep her mouth shut.

But then again, it could just be that Baroness Flight had said what she had said in order to test him; to see how strong the bond between him and Isabella really was. Had his intentions and love for her not been as noble and true as he had claimed, chances were Mercy would've succeeded in rattling him, and he would not have said anything to Isabella in fear of her. Had he been perfectly honest however - and he had - the confidence he shared with Isabella would by far exceed any that he might have with Mercy, in which case he would value honesty towards Isabella more.
That, he did.

Think it necessary to mention the part where Mercy had threatened him, however, he did not. Not at this point. If Mercy really did have Isabella's best interest at heart, there was no need to risk robbing Isabella of such an ally, by causing a possible rift between the two.

(((OOC: Got some free time today so i worked on Marie-Elisabeth. Here's the WIP *so excuse the nasty bodyshop pics*. I'm trying to find her a locket without earrings, I don't like this one much. I have the Slytherin locket from MTS2 but it just doesn't seem right. What do you think of her so far?)))

She is absolutely stunning. You are clearly a very tallented simmer.

César & Marie-Elisabeth
 

(((ooc: slytherin - I love her, she's gorgeous! Will you consider donating her to the site? Pretty please? Also, I'm terribly sorry for the lateness. Didn't get a chance to write anything yesterday, and the fact that I've been working for 12 days straight now is starting to catch up with me. *lol*)))


Much like the Comtesse, César was beginning to find it increasingly difficult to manage a straight face, the further their conversation went on. On the surface it was perfectly innocent, a mere session of polite smalltalk, just like one would imagine taking place between two courtiers who had just recently become acquainted with one another. The fact of the matter was, that unless one did not possess the same kind of devilish mind as César, and the Comtesse as well apparently, one would be nothing short of unable to read between the lines and catch the playfully suggestive innuendos that hid in and behind their words.

She was a witty young lady, the darling Comtesse. A woman after his own heart, with a flair for the kind of bold subtleties that he so loved to play around with himself. Had he not realized it earlier, he was made aware of it now, as she first accepted his offer while giving him an expressive look, and then turned her head to gaze straight ahead at the stables, leaving the look in her eyes to only stain her words with elusive enticement, instead of accompanying it and cross over to being shockingly obvious.

César simply could not resist quirking a brow, partly in acknowledgement of her success in guiding his thoughts where others would have thought it most improper for them to venture, but also as a way of acknowledging his admiration of her way with words. He was impressed indeed, and thought her most well deserving of knowing it.

"You'll have to believe me when I say that chasing an energetic little boy around doesn’t leave you much time for idle pleasures like horseback riding", she concluded with a small, soft laugh as she turned back to look at him one again, this time looking nothing but genuine, with no hidden meaning lurking in those sprightly eyes of hers. "I was thinking about getting another horse, but I just never got around to it. Too busy with my little chou d’amour I suppose. Though he is quite the little horseman in his own right, despite his mother being less than perfect at it."

Another bright smile ended her minor minologue, and César found himself wondering how it was that people expected such a vibrant young lady to be tied down by the shackles of mourning, when she was so clearly made for living and enjoying life to the fullest. One just had to look at her to see that while she may not be vivacity personified, she was not far from it. Her shoulders were not meant to be burdened by sorrow.

"Ah, I do indeed believe you, Comtesse", he said, and offered a soft smile in return. "Even though I am a man, and thus am not expected to share a mother's duties, I have learned that my two darling daughters are more than capable of exhausting their poor father. I can only imagine the toll such energy must take on the mothers, who spend far more time with their children than their husbands do."

However, while the Comtesse might have found returning to perfectly innocent conversation an easy transition, César's mind still lingered in the slightly more immoral part of her statement. He was a man, after all.

"And I assure you I will not laugh", he added, and gave her another roguish, sidelong glance, "as it has been my experience that it is the out of practice riders that are the most passionate ones. I am sure your skills will soon reveal themselves once more, and in the meantime, I shall be more than happy to make myself available, and see to it that you recieve all the practice you may require, and desire."

Marie-Elisabeth & César - The Gardens
 

If Marie-Elisabeth was anything less than a perfect lady, she would have either dissolved into particularly naughty giggles by now, or turned as red as the roses that would be blooming in the flowerbeds were it not the middle of winter. But as it was she kept her calm very well, outwardly seemingly unaffected by her companion’s words.

Inwardly was another matter entirely. It was, without a doubt, becoming harder and harder to control her words and keep them from wandering to places entirely too inappropriate to think of.

“Children can be quite exhausting,” she said, to give herself some time to think. She didn’t have to think when she talked about things related to her son, the words just seemed to flow from her lips on their own. “I can’t imagine how it would be with more than one child, though Charles has enough energy for several most days”

She didn’t bother to include Sophie or Helene in that statement of course, they tended to keep to themselves and really, how motherly could anyone be toward girls that were of the age that they could have been her younger siblings.

“But” she said, after the careful consideration of her words was over “It is a relief to know you won’t laugh at me. Charles was attempting to teach me, he used to be quite the horseman in his youth. But as everyone knows, men tend to loose their skill when they get older so he wasn’t always up to the task. I shall definitely have to hold you to that offer some day soon Marquis ”.

She paused for a moment to look up at the sky, and away from the Marquis. “But I think now we should be heading back inside. It seems I’ve gone and monopolized your whole day. How dreadful of me”.



(((OOC: Thanks for the compliments guys! :howdy: She's still a work in progress (darn that locket, I might just use the Slytherin one after all) so there's still things to tweak. If I can remember where I got all the CC, I'd love to add her to the site! . I'll probably make her a husband and son in my game nd then just kill the husband off LOL)))

César & Marie-Elisabeth - Palace gardens
 

(((ooc: slytherin - Usually you can find in BS where the CC is from, or at least the name of the creator. And you could always try and edit the necklace/earrings?)))


Upon having discovered just how skillfully the young Comtesse could maneuver herself in conversation, César was curious, to say the least, to see what she would make of his latest statement, what kind of reaction it would bring forth in her act of perfect virtue, previously only tainted by nothing but that certain look in her eyes, and the tiny curve in the corner of her mouth that, to him, would give her away.

Would it broaden her smile, bring additional sparkles to her eyes? Would it draw forth a soft laugh perhaps? Maybe even make her blush? Of all the reactions César was anticipating, he was sure whichever it would turn out to be, it would be one satisfying indeed. Though considering the Comtesse's own way with words, the latter - her cheeks flushing with a rosey hue - hardly seemed likely.

The only reaction he hadn't expected, was the one that actually occured; hardly anything, anything at all. The faint smirk on her lips seemed to dissipate, bringing with it the mischievous look in her eyes. Had she managed to keep a straight face before, she did it even better now. So well, in fact, that César might have been disappointed, had he not registered the way she stalled answering his statement, resorting to making a casual, generic comment about the previous topic of conversation, as if giving herself a chance to take firm control of her composure before speaking, in fear that her voice might betray her if she spoke too soon.

While it was not what he had expected, it turned out to be something far more satisfying; the fact that she needed a moment suppress her natural reaction before answering, was to him the ultimate proof that he was indeed having an effect on her.

"But", she finally said, once she had chosen her words and was ready to reply. "It is a relief to know you won't laugh at me. Charles was attempting to teach me, he used to be quite the horseman in his youth. But as everyone knows, men tend to loose their skill when they get older so he wasn’t always up to the task. I shall definitely have to hold you to that offer some day soon Marquis."

As it turned out, it was to be César who allowed a soft chuckle to push past his lips, though he did manage to bite back the amused 'Is that so?' that came dangerously close to following it. Men tended to loose their skill as they got older, did they? For some reason, César found it hard to believe it would be the case with him. Like any young man, he was filled with vigor and vitality, and didn't have it in him to imagine ever loosing it.

And with Marie-Elisabeth's statement, came a realization that to him made his virility feel even more tangible, and his interest in her grow even larger; If she, like many young women, had been untouched by men when she married her husband, that would mean she had only experienced the kind of dwindling skill of which she had spoken. Unless, of course, she had found other opportunities to temporarily escape the expectations that were resting on her shoulders, for her to be in mourning still.
If she had't... there was alot of catching up for her to do...
Interesting. Interesting indeed.

However, his thoughts were abruptly yanked back to the doings and whereabouts of the present, when she soon continued speaking;

"But", she said, "I think now we should be heading back inside. It seems I've gone and monopolized your whole day. How dreadful of me."

Following her gaze ever so briefly, to take in the shades of dusk spilling across the sky, César frowned internally. Had the whole day gone by already? What a shame. He'd quite enjoyed getting to know the Comtesse de Valois, and would've been delighted to continue doing so for a little while yet.
But... Just because this meeting was coming to an end, it didn't mean there couldn't be another. In fact, César was determined to see to it that there was.

"Not at all, Comtesse", he said as they came to a slow halt, with a look in his eyes that left it no secret that he had found her 'monopolizing his day' a most enjoyable experience. "Not at all. But I do believe you are right in that we should be making our way back. The sun has been kind to us this after noon, but I fear nightfall will not be as merciful."

Smoothly he turned them both around in order to head back along the same path, and while doing so, placed his free hand gently on top of hers resting on his arm, as if to warm it, innocently pretending he was unaware of the muff she had carried with her.



(((ooc: Sorry if it's difficult to reply to. For the life of me, I couldn't think of anything more for him to say. But if you find it too difficult, I'll gladly make another try? )))

((Hello people, by now you are most likely aware of the departing of the wonderful Shenan from our thread and for that matter from our site. Shenan spoke to the three of us not elligible for the advisor position to search for a replacement host.

As far as i know Atropa has had to decline as she does not have the time. But I think we will all forgive her as she comes up with such marvelous posts to make up for it!!!

So assuming i don't have my wires crossed (Atropa could you please confirm that?) and all of you are happy with a switch over either Seiza or I shall be taking over here, in the hopes of continuing a wonderful roleplay beyond it's marvellous second host...

I wonder if the host position of this roleplay is cursed just like the Defence against the Dark arts position in Harry Potter......))

Marie-Elisabeth & César - Gardens
 

Marie-Elisabeth was a woman who knew just what she wanted in life, and what was more important how to get it. It was a skill well developed during her brief marriage, although practicing it on an old man who worshipped the ground she walked on was hardly a challenge. It hadn’t taken much for Charles to grant her whatever she could think up, or to get any reaction she so desired from him.

But the skills she had were certainly being put to the ultimate test right now, along with her inborn talent for self control. They had served her quite well indeed in the past. So far they had kept her from either saying something that would put her irreproachable image to shame, or breaking the composure she had such a careful hold on.

And in danger of breaking that composure Marie-Elisabeth certainly was, very much so in fact. When she had first caught sight of him in the dining room that morning, she had thought César would be an interesting person to talk to, nothing more than that. But she had been wrong, and it was rapidly turning into more than she had thought. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t mind one bit.

He clearly was having the exact same thoughts as her, she could tell by the look in his eyes as he responded to her statement about how late the hour had gotten. Not that his previous actions and words hadn’t been more than enough, but this was just the icing on the cake.

But when she felt his hand cover hers as it rested on his arm, she had to discretely bite the inside of her lip to keep from smirking too much. It also had the added benefit of distracting her mind from the multitude on sensations she was feeling.

Striving for something else to distract her wandering mind, she turned to César. “Indeed, it is getting quite chilly” she said, her free hand clutching the muff she had brought “I’m just glad it isn’t snowing. I fear my little Charles has quite a deadly aim with a snowball; it is most amusing to watch him try to sneak up on people and attempt to catch them unawares. Where he gets that devilish streak of his I’ve no idea”.


(((OOC: I'm okay with one of you guys taking over too. But I didn't know you were leaving Shenanigans!!! I'm going to miss my baker friend *does dnce for old times sake* )))

((Well I am still waiting to hear from Seiza, but if she is happy with me taking over I have some restucturing ideas that may manage to move Isabella out on a temporary basis and bring Octavien back into line for the position, after all with his wife dead and his true love gone there is no one to push him forward.... so it would be fair after all.))

Morning is now officially here, there are no morning announcements once again, and the funeral for our beloved Princess Adalita will take place in the afternoon. The funeral will be attended by our courtiers, the Prince and the King.

The Queen will also be in attendance with her mother, Juliet de Margoles, (if Isabella has made reference to her family before can you please point this out to me?), but will be over come by grief, this and her recent nausea will lead to her mother demanding she take some time recuperate.

Due to the formidable nature of Juliet she will believe the presense of a family member is still needed at the court and a sibling or cousin of Isabella will be brought in as the Queen's representative (or Le représentant de la reine.)

Applications are open for this position as of now. Will any of you who feel they know a roleplayer who would be good for the position please recommend it to them?

Problems will now of course have to be directed to me... I have some things to work out still... such as the scandals... but I will get on it. I will have to open a new thread at some point in the future so I can alter the main posts, but for now we will continue roleplaying here.

Marie-Elisabeth: Outside her rooms
 

It was a sad and lamentable fact indeed that Marie-Elisabeth had so many black mourning dresses to wear. After getting back to her room the previous night, she had taken off the one she had on all day, and made sure her maids had gotten another ready for the next day.

This one was nicer of course, she would wear the best one she had out of respect to the young princess. It was matched by a black hat with a draping veil attached, that came down to a few inches below her shoulders. It was the same ensemble that she had worn what seemed like ages ago to Charles’ funeral.

Marie-Elisabeth held her breath in as her stays were pulled tight, and allowed her mind to wander and think about the other reason she wanted to look her best.

The reason of course, being the man she had spent the majority of her first day at court with, the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan. She knew it was entirely inappropriate to want to look good for a man at a funeral, but figured anyone who saw her would assume it was out of respect for the deceased. Which was of course partly true, and that thought eased her conscience.

She raised her arms up as the dress was pulled over her head, barely having noticed her panniers and petticoats having already been put on. The faintest of blushes found its way across her face as she pulled her hands through the long sleeves. She remembered well the look on César's face as he had kissed it when he bid her farewell the night before. It was the same look that had been on his face for most of the evening, one that both terrified and enthralled her at the same time.

Her dressing completed, hair having been done prior to dressing, she shooed the maids away to finish getting ready for the day in private. She walked over to her dressing table and sat down, looking at the jewelry boxes sitting on it. Yes there was more than one, several in fact. Marie-Elisabeth loved her pretty jewels almost as much as she loved her pretty dresses.

Her tiny hands immediately went to the small blue velvet case that lay open in the middle, containing her locket. She smiled and flicked it open to look at the portrait inside. “Good morning chou d’amour” she whispered, smiling and shutting it again before placing it around her neck. Tiny pearl earrings went into her ears next, the more elaborate and favoured ones she possessed being left aside for being too ornate for the occasion.

Her blue eyes then fell upon the box that contained her wedding ring. She had worn it faithfully every day since it had first been placed on her finger over 7 years ago. She picked it up and looked at it, a tiny gold band set with a cluster of diamonds so big people were often making jokes about her needing a servant to carry it for her. It was pretty to be sure, but all it really reminded her of now was the past.

And she was really no longer interested in the past, but in the future. “After all” she thought, putting it back in the box and closing the lid “I came here to start again and to have fun. And having something like that weighing me down does no good”.

She brushed aside the faint twinge of guilt she felt as she picked up her hat and placed it upon her golden curls. She carefully arranged it and the veil falling from it, and got up from the table. Without so much as a second glance back at the jewels spread out on the table, she slid her feet into her shoes and walked out the door.

(Approachable )


(((OOC: Darn, moved on. But that works anyway Atropa. Seems just fine to me. And everything seems great to me Fayreview, who better to run things than the one who knows everyone's business )))

((Come on people liven up Adalita is the deceased one, the other characters are still alive!))

Mercy was awake and dressed very early, her new found friend was amongst the highest of the household staff and he had let her know via Helena that the Royal couple would not be seen until the funeral which was to be held in the young hours of the afternoon.

The royal rumour was that Duchess Juliet de Margoles the mother of the beautiful Queen Isabella was to arrive this morning and to be taken to the Queen's rooms. Naturally she would have to be escorted upstairs, and that would generally be done by a Royal but as they were staying concealed until gone midday they would need a noble of some level to do the Royal honours and as Mercy herself was awake and had been allerted she was standing looking down the steps to the Palace door waiting for any hint of a grand carriage and it's most noble guest.

She watched as the grandfather clock ticked, it seemed to be going slower now than it had when she had first taken up this position, which perhaps was true, it could be winding down and simply waiting for maintenance or it could be her mind growing weary of staring out of this window, she then realised that if she stood here much longer she would have to begin to question what on earth she was doing. She was painstakingly close to that happening but she was in that horrile position where her body would no longer turn on her command unless she focused all her energy upon it... which was just a little too tiring.

There was a movement behind her, a young man in tight trousers and a beautiful frock coat nah come to wind the clock. It apparently had been slowing as he also changed the time slightly. She had began to realise how attractive this young man was... just how young was he? She could probably pass herself off for 39 on a good day but this man would never pass for thirty, he turned and began to walk away, she leaned back slightly to get a better view as he walked away... no he he was 24 if he was a day... Damn she cursed under her breath.

Then a sound came from behind her. She was annoyed, she was enjoying assessing this man but soemthing in her mind was niggling about that sound.....! It was wheels creaking... she dashed at full pelt through the castle, well, full pelt for high heeled shoes and petticoats. She stopped in the entrance hall and pulled a strand of hair for her forehead to tuck it behind her ear.

She stood by as the door was opened wide and in stepped the woman, Mercy bowed low.

************

Juliet looked around her daughetr's castle... not bad, she conceeded as she looked around the entrance, there were a few servants, with most of them having rushed out to deal with her things, and a woman of about 40 who appeared to be some minor Noble, she turned her nose up slightly when the woman was finally properly straightened up. This was her escort? what had her daughter been thinking?

((Juliet is approachable, Mercy however may be a little annoyed if a higher class noble were to take Juliet from her grasp ))

((Thanks Atropa I'm just trying to stop the roleplay disappearing with Shenan.))

Dimitri & Marie
 

((Juliet is mistaking Mercy for a royal? Hmmm...

slytherin-girl, I'ma bit late on this but that sim of Marie is fantastic!

And I was just wondering, what about having the Queen's mom as one of the three? Ah, no reason, I just think it'd be hilarious. XD))
______


It had been remarkably easy to find a convincing reason to retire early the previous evening. After all, wasn’t he just an old man, and was not a ride on horseback to town in the winter chill just a bit too rigorous for him? Settled into a cushioned armchair before the fireplace, Dimitri passed the rest of the evening and night writing letters, reading—a little of Descartes; a tract from his private copy of Lettres provinciales—and thinking.

There had been plenty to think about.

But there was nothing of that to be done this morning, which found the Duc d’Lorraine standing in the King’s suite in full ceremonial attire. His dark, richly scarlet uniform coat was laced down the front, riddled with gleaming military regalia; from the thick baldric at his waist, elaborately decorated with metallic fringes, hung the same sword given to him by the former King’s own hands. The white sash of the mother country encircled his waist, the simplest and most important cloth of all.

Edouard was still getting ready. As inconceivable as the idea was, Dimitri had the impression that the younger man was… stalling.

“The Duchess de Margoles arrives today,” Edouard suddenly announced, and all the room’s servants stopped as if frozen.

Dimitri wondered if it was because the King had spoken, after a long morning of merely grunting and staring into nothing; or if it was from the name.

“The ‘Duchess’…?”

“Her Majesty’s mother.”

Ah.

“Shall I…?” Edouard had specifically requested his presence that morning, yet the Duc had done little more than stand to one corner while a platoon of servants rushed to and fro, their movements too energetic for such a sombre day. Perhaps this was what he had, truly, been summoned for.

The King looked relieved. “Yes. The Queen awaits her in her suite.”

With a final bow, Dimitri left the King’s suite for the palace entrance.

***

He was well on his way, when the Comtesse de Valois appeared in the corner of his eyes. He surely could not know how many dresses she had nor of what range of quality they were, but Dimitri thought this particular one must have been one of her best, and he felt pleased that she would dress so for the Princess. At the foot of the Grand Staircase, he greeted her. Even if he was to meet the Queen’s Mother, he could not pass a noblewoman without a glance.

“Comtesse de Valois.”

He lowered his head to kiss her hand in greeting—his lips paused just above her fingers, devoid of that one piece of jewellery married women should never remove. But a silk-trimmed tricone hat rested on his head, and its broad girth blocked his expression from the Comtesse.

He kissed her hand, lifting grave grey eyes to her. “I am afraid any conversation shall have to wait... I am on my way to greet the Duchesse Juliet de Margoles, mother of Her Majesty the Queen.” A sudden thought. “Would you care to join me?”

Marie-Elisabeth and Dimitri
 

“Duc d’Lorraine, good morning” she said, pasting a bright smile on her face to cover up her disappointment. She had been hoping to meet someone else walking around this morning, and wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be in the company of a friend of her late husband’s right now. He hadn’t said anything about her lack of a ring, but Marie-Elisabeth could see the change in his eyes and the way he looked at her. He didn’t seem pleased. She bit back a sigh and the urge to roll her eyes.

She wasn’t married anymore, and hadn’t been for the better part of three years. Why wear the symbol of something long dead? Many women re-married within a year, so why was taking her wedding ring off after 3 such a very big deal. She was starting to wonder if, besides herself, Cesar was the only person living within the palace’s gilded walls who didn’t think she should lock herself up in a nunnery and mourn for the rest of her life. At the mere thought of his name, Marie-Elisabeth found her mind started to wander back to that less than ladylike place it had occupied for most of the previous day, so she mentally shook herself and re focused her attention on the man in front of her.

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of taking up any of your valuable time” she said, adjusting her veil and still smiling “And it just wouldn’t do for the mother of our Queen to be greeted by anyone less than a close friend of the royal family such as yourself. I should just let you go on with your business, I would only be a bother to you”.



(((OOC: Thank you Seiza! I edited her a bit still after those pics were taken, and she should be up on the site soon Possibly with little Charles and Charles the Elder to come as well *even though elder Charles is just a ghost in my game* whoops how ever did that pool ladder disappear )))

((Eeek! I typed royal didn't I XD no I meant noble, of course Juliet would be only too well informed on the entire Royal family, pressumably having researched before pushing the Isabella/Edouard marriage herself.

I shall relinquish Juliet to you, to save me having a conversation with myself, when you do meet her would you just interjected an opened mouth Mercy into the picture as they leave the hall.

Naturally Juliet could stay, however soemone else will have to roleplay her as whilst the persuader can and did run the roleplay, and the gossip can and shall run the roleplay, to be the gossip, the 2nd persuader and the host is a bit overstepping the mark.))

Dimitri & Marie
 

The veil shielded the Comtesse’s eyes from any scrutiny. “And it just wouldn’t do for the mother of our Queen to be greeted by anyone less than a close friend of the royal family such as yourself. I should just let you go on with your business, I would only be a bother to you”.

“On the contrary, I anticipate the Duchess would be grateful to have another woman to keep her company. Even though it is very humble of you to decline.” His voice remained polite, but the hint was clear:

“Not many would pass the chance to be introduced to the Duchess.”

He had lived long enough to recognize—or reasonably guess—when and why a woman feigned disinterest; the missing wedding ring only augmented his suspicions. But she was choosing a very bad time to try it out. The Queen mother’s visit was second to none: whatever mischief the Comtesse was up to, it was in her best interests to subordinate it to the royal visitor. Did she not realize how, by declining the invitation, she was inadvertently insulting the Queen’s own mother and, by extension, the whole royal family?

Perhaps old Charles had been too indulgent with her, showering her with affection but grooming her for little else. Perhaps the Comtesse was too used to having her own parasol carried to realize that, at Court, it was the female courtier who carried the royal parasol for the Queen, the Queen’s mother, the Princess, the Princess’ horse…

“Now, I shall be off. As your husband’s friend, I should be taking better care of you, but all things considered, I pray you will forgive me my recent inattention,” Dimitri’s voice was grim; in this duty, at least, he truly felt he had failed in. “Should you face the slightest problems, however, know that you have my ear and aid.”

He did not pause to specify what “problems” she may find, or even to highlight the word itself. It flowed unaccented from his lips, insinuating in its very indifference.

______

((slytherin-girl, if Marie's done with him, just have Dimitri leave to collect the Duchess. I would've written it myself except I wanted to let the dear girl get a word in. XD

Hah! Good to know I'm not the only one acting out my character's family/past in my Sims game... Well, I will, once I finish making Dimitri's giant damned family... Can't wait to download the two Charleses. :D

Fay-- no prob, I can hold Juliet for a while. Even just through writing Dimitri, I'm getting a very fearsome image of her in my mind. Yeah, I guess the main concern is to get a third party involved. Whether the third person wants to keep Juliet as the 2nd persuader or introduce a new character comes after that.))

(((OOC: I'm mostly haivng her say no because I'm going to be away for the nxt few days *till Sunday evening* and didn't want to tie anyone up. I'll add and RP to this post later on. And I don;t wanna think about doing Marie-Elisabeth's whole family o.0 Sorta basing them on Marie-Antoinette's, so she's got...well a LOT of siblings)))

Octavien & César - Octavien's suite / César - Palace entrance
 

(((ooc: Seiza - Large family, eh? *wink wink, nudge nudge* Sorry, couldn't help myself, as I'm starting to make a habit of hassling people to submit their RP related sims. Marie-Elisabeth shall be up soon, hopefully, as will Octavien's father. Eventually.)))


Had anyone known what had been going through César's mind the previous evening when in the company of the lovely young Comtesse de Valois, as well as knowing César himself, they may not have been surprised to learn that this morning did not find him in his own bed. What might surprise them however, was that it did not find him in the Comtesse's bed either. Nor in any other woman's bed for that matter. In fact, it did not even find him in a bed at all.
When the gentle rays of the morning sun peaked through a set of curtains in search of him, they found him sleeping peacefully on one of the plush chaise longues in Octavien's suite.

Parting from the Comtesse, after having escorted her back to the door to her suite, he had settled for seizing her delicate little hand as gently as though it had been made of glass, and brush his lips against her knuckles while the look in his eyes suggested that had they not been his only choice, perhaps they would not have been his primary one. Then, once she was inside and he was making his way back through the hallway, his thoughts returned to Octavien, and to what César had promised himself to do, had he not heard from his old friend by now; to seek him out himself.

Much to his surprise, he had found that gaining access to the royal floor proved to be far easier than he had expected. He had expected to have to resort to persuasion, maybe even threats that he would be sure to inform the Prince that his good friend the Marquis had not been allowed to pass, to which the Prince was not likely to take kindly. But, all he'd had to do was introduce himself, and he'd been escorted by one of the guards to Octavien's suite. Though it had all gotten it's explanation seconds into his reunion with Octavien, and the slight and smug satisfaction he had felt at obviously being recognized as someone important to the Prince, had mellowed, as after the brotherly embrace between the two young men, Octavien told him that he had just informed the guards that they were to let the Marquis pass, should he happen to come seeking the Prince.

Ah, yes. For a moment, César had actually forgotten just how well Octavien knew him and his tendencies for waywardness.

They had spent the rest of the evening, and a good portion of the night as well, simply talking and catching up, just like old friends should. Though at first, Octavien had been somewhat distracted. His thoughts still lingered on the all too brief conversation he'd had with Isabella during the afternoon. There had been so much for them to talk about, but they had not been given enough time, as Isabella had recieved a message from the King that he wished to speak with her. But in the few minutes they were given, Octavien had learned two things; Isabella's mother was to arrive at the Palace the next day, to support her daughter in her time of need, and that Isabella too had had a conversation with a certain Baroness, regarding her doings during the wee hours of morning.
Though judging by the sounds of it, Mercy had not been nearly as aggressive with Isabella as she had been with Octavien, nor did it seem she had attempted to sway Isabella's feelings on the matter. Which had been at least one cause for relief in this whole messy affair.

But, rarely one to play second fiddle to sombre thoughts, especially not when such sombre thoughts needed dispelling, César soon had him thinking of other things, and they both had to occasionally try hard not to laugh at the various memories that snuck their way into the conversation. At least not in the presence of servants, as eyebrows were sure to be raised if they did, the very day after Adalita's passing.
Only once they were almost too tired to form a coherent thought, and the voluminous amount of wine consumed took care of the rest, did they turn in.

And such was the story behind why César awoke this morning, on a precariously comfortable chaise longue in the Prince's suite.

"Ah", said Octavien when the sound of César's yawn reached his ears and made him turn his head. "I was beginning to wonder if you had lost your head for wine."

As always, Octavien himself had risen early, and had spent the past hour or two writing letters to family and friends. Now, he was in the middle of the process of getting dressed, with the assitance of his servants.

"If I ever do, it will be because I have lost my head altogether", César smirked from his chair, lazily watching the meticulous procedure of clothing and grooming that his friend was currently subjected to.

Octavien simply offered a smirk of his own in return, as a silent way of saying that he didn't put it past César to one of these days do something that really would risk getting him beheaded. But considering the circumstances and the company, it was a remark that remained just that; silent. Speaking of beheadings, especially in a lighthearted manner, would be most improper this morning.
So instead, he changed the subject.

"Will you join me for breakfast?"

Just planting his feet on the floor and sitting up properly, César yawned again, and then shook his head.

"Thank you, but no", he said. "I better return to my darling wife, for even if she got my note, which I doubt, considering how the one I sent you seems to have magically disappeared, she too must be starting to wonder."

While he spoke, he moved on to stand, and as he did, one of the young servants surrounding Octavien hurried off towards one of the other chairs to retrieve the frock coat that César had discarded the previous evening, when the wine had warmed his body and rendered the coat superfluous.

"Besides", he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I'm curious to find out what reaction it'll bring, me being seen leaving your suite this morning in the same attire I wore when coming here last night."

That comment, however, succeeded where the other one had failed. It brought a genuinly amused smile to the Prince's lips.

"I would like to say that I believe the other courtiers to be far too free from sin to notice", he said. "But in all honesty, I fear that yours is indeed not the only mind in the gutter."

It was a somewhat diplomatic way of expressing what he knew to be true. For indeed, of all the places he had been, few had held more sinners and corrupted minds than the Palace of Light and Air and it's court. Thus, the only thing likely to protect him and César from becoming the targets of foul rumours, were the tragic circumstances. No one could openly question César's reasons for spending the night in Octavien's suite, as it was only natural that a good friend would offer his support to a man who had just lost his wife. Though the bitterness that had recently begun to stain Octavien's thoughts left him thinking not saying something was not the same as not thinking it. There were people in this court with minds that were bound to turn the friendship into something sordid, if only for nothing more than to amuse themselves.


Having gotten a little assitance of his own, in putting on the coat that along with the implicit snugness of the dark breeches not only accentuated but also complimented his virility, César soon left Octavien's suite, but was still buttoning the delicately embroided piece of garment as he started descending the stairs, which proved a most difficult task, as his movements allowed the small buttons to easily dodge the equally small buttonholes.

"Curses", he muttered to himself over another failed attempt, just as he reached the main floor.



(((ooc: Sorry if it's crappy, messy and yaddi yadda. I'm still struggling with all the loose ends in Octavien's situation, and I ran out of time to write... César's approachable though.

Oh, and, Marie-Elisabeth is now available on the site, thanks to slytherin who was kind enough to share her. )))

((It was excellent Atropa! Hehe I quite like they way their minds work together...

Anyway below is sort of a brief bio for Juliet... detailing things the courtiers would pressumably know.))

Marie-Elisabeth & Dimitri
 

Marie-Elisabeth was starting to wish she had just given into the temptation to stay in bed this morning. Just about anything would have been more pleasant than standing where she was right now. She could practically feel the well hidden disdain coming off him in waves.

“Ugh” she thought, her wish to have remained in her rooms doubling “I had to run into him this morning, of all mornings. Then again there are few of the older generation Charles didn’t know, I suppose it would have happened eventually”.

“Oh it isn’t that I don’t want to meet the Queen’s Mother” she said, desperately trying to find a polite way out of the situation she seemed to have worked herself into “I had just assumed she would immediately want to go and see her daughter, which would be the only company she’d desire at the moment. I don’t want to put myself in the middle of things I have no business in. Perhaps it would be better for you to introduce me to her later on, after the current…situation is over with. Believe me it would be an honour to meet her, I just don't want to intrude upon things”

She smiled at him, despite her annoyance at the insinuation he made with his last statement. “Don’t worry about looking after me, really” she said “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, though it is lovely to know there’s someone I can talk to if I need them”.


(((OOC: Sorry, I had to figure out a way of getting Marie-Elisabeth out of there without her being rude. I didn't intitally intend for her to say no to him, but me going away for the weekend kinda forced me to. Sorry again And i think you hit it right on the head about her and Charles Seiza, I've kind of pictured them as having a relationship similar to Henry VIII and Katherine Howard. Minus the whole beheading and cheating part of course LOL )))

Dimitri, Mercy & Juliet
 

((No worries, slytherin, Dimitri's not meant to be the cuddly-well-liked type either. So Marie's response makes sense.

Atropa-- if I ever finish them, I'll definitely bombard you with Dimitri's sim-family. Then you shall rue the day you offered to host my Dimitri sim >DDD

Fay-- If I made any mistakes with Juliet, just lemme know.))
______


Dimitri duly listened as the Comtesse prattled on, subduing the urge to check her frantic speech and to tell her, in the same way he used to warn young Edouard when he blustered about, that the best excuses were made with the least words. He was not responsible for her as he had been with the former Prince, but it was a habit hard to break nonetheless.

He did, however, have other responsibilities, the most crucial being the regal presence at the palace doors.

“Don’t worry about looking after me, really” she said “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, though it is lovely to know there’s someone I can talk to if I need them”.

“Very good. Then I bid you good day, my lady,” Dimitri tipped his hat to the Comtesse, taking his leave.

His booted feet gliding to the palace entrance, he mentally recounted what he knew of the Duchess de Margoles, only to realize that it was not much. Isabella and her family were certainly formidable, but their reign in Court had been after his departure from it. The Duchess, in particular, was supremely inscrutable; nobody knew anything significant about her before her marriage to the Duc de Margoles. Any “information” people gathered were as smoky as whispered suppositions, as solid as the morning mist.

Baroness Venn was there, with only a few other noble ladies. He could not see what the Baroness was doing, but the other women flittered nervously around the Duchess’ central figure, reminding him of nervous children afraid—but desiring passionately—to touch an exotic bird. It was still early in the morning, which would bring a most solemn afternoon; so the palace grounds were stupendously emptier than usual.

“Duchess de Margoles,” Dimitri greeted formally, removing his hat, and bowing, and everything else. “On behalf of His Majesty King Edouard Auguste Louis Rotherham IV, welcome to the Palace of Light and Air.”

“Dimitri,” Juliet replied coolly, turning her nose from where it had been lifted over the noblewomen’s bowed heads. She stood tall and straight, permitting the Duc to kiss her on both cheeks. Despite her smaller size, her icy eyes somehow managed to look down at him. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“I arrived recently, in fact.”

“Finally tired of that quaint little village, did you?” An embroidered fan slipped open, and she fanned the Chinese phoenix delicately over her bosom. “Just as well, perhaps we shall find time to acquaint ourselves here. You must forgive me for not visiting.”

Dimitri nodded, clearly ignoring Juliet’s lack of an excuse. “Lorraine is peaceful. She shall await your visit as long as it takes.”

“Indeed, she will.” The fan snapped shut. Juliet sighed. “You are very generous to greet me here. Did my daughter send you to escort her dear mother? You would certainly make for a more appropriate reception than…”

An elegant wave in the general direction of the nobles said it all.

“You might say that, my lady. Although if Her Majesty sent Baroness Venn, it is by no means an insult to you.” The Baroness was concealing a slightly opened mouth, although he could not be sure what the cause was. Perhaps she could not fathom the coy authority with which Juliet addressed the Duc. Or maybe she did not expect him to imply her high position, little did he know of her position in Court to begin with.

When the Duchess took his offered arm, he began leading her to Isabella’s suite.

((Perfect Seiza, utterly perfect!))

((lol, thanks! :valentine Ohoho, Juliet's gonna be fun.

Though I'm kind of stuck now. I can take her straight to Isabella's room (unless Octavien decides to pop in~), but I'll probably wait until some other posts get made first, in case anybody wants to jump in.

Also, I've updated Dimitri's profile with a pic of his uniform: the baldric is the belt-like-sword-holding thingie around his waist. All I'm missing is a white sash of France. Plz to be disregarding historical inaccuracies, such as this possibly being a British style or from the wrong century (18th c., fyi) kthx.

And yes, this pic was just my lame attempt to get one of my characters to FINALLY WEAR A TRICONE HAT.

:jig:

WITH A FEATHER.

:jig:

Although the tricone is, as far as I read, historically accurate. Give or take a couple of decades. w00t.))

((@Atropa: Mmm, figured as much. I might take my time dropping off Juliet to keep Dimitri occupied, then, since I have an essay deadline coming up...

Well, we'll do what we have to when we have to! Simple! No need to overthink things. :D

Oh, I just thought-- if Octavien wants to/has to/is compelled by some unholy force c/o Juliet de Margoles-- to meet Juliet, he can always have an RP session with her through PM. Maybe not this "RP day" since it's supposed to be the funeral day, but maybe later. Either I or Fay can take care of Juliet. Just throwing out an idea for the poor dude to have something to do. :einstein ))

Name: Gustav De Margoles
Title: Diplomat/King's advisor
Age: 28
Bio: Gustav, Queen Isabella's older brother, is a great diplomat. He has stopped wars, reunited kingdoms, an saved lives. But he always cared about his family. So when Princess Adalita passed away, he rushed to the castle to comfort the King and Queen. He always loved the girl, and it crushed him to here that she passed on. But life must go on.
Picture:

((Hello people

As you can see above we have an application for our new persuader! Yay! However to honour the wonderful shenan's desire to stop drive-by-roleplaying I am not operating a first-come first-serve system, however the new character will be introduced tomorrow morning (RP time) so there will be a time limit I''m not going to drag it out too long for the people who have been kind enough to apply.

Afternoon and the funeral will been in approximately 26 hours, as I am busy until this time tomorrow and some final details must be put into place.

One last thing Omarion the last name of the Queen's family is de Margoles.))

((Omarion means advisor to the king in the way that Dimitri is and Isabella and Adalita were.

and as for the others, i personally haven't heard from either of them but those of us in the Victorian Roleplay may know a little more?))

((Haven't heard from funheart or Hay, though I think I saw an old post by Hay saying she was half-buried in schoolwork. (Speaking of which, did Shenan ever tell anyone who poisoned Adalita? Not trying to find out who did it, but I was wondering if we could continue this plot/what Shenan had in mind.)

I've been thinking of starting a second character as soon as my exams are over (early May). I love Dimitri to bits, but his personality and position (and, admittedly, the general grimness of the funeral) make him a little less accessible than most player-characters should be. A trouble-maker, on the other hand... :D

I will make a post dropping Juliet off at Isabella's sometime today. It's 5AM now so I'm gonna go crash.))

Dimitri & Juliet - Round 2
 

((Indeeeeed, he/she/it will~ :evil: César better stick around long enough for them to meet!

I kinda recall Isabella speculating that it was an inside job too. I'm quite interested in following through with this plotline, who knows what it could morph into ))
______


If the reception had been disappointing at the palace entrance, the entourage that greeted them at the grand staircase was its very antithesis. The glittering stairs were lined with the upper echelons of the domestic household—from the First Almoner pulled from the chapel to the Chief Steward himself—bowing with a professionalism unrecognisable in a royal staff Dimitri had written off as irredeemably disorganised. Yet the guards stood rigidly when they reached the upper landing, their bayonets gleaming in the morning light; even their uniforms shone a little more.

Juliet seemed marginally pleased with the greeting, which was to mean that she showed no pleasure at all.

She did, however, nod appreciably at the Chief Steward.

“Duchess de Margoles, Her Majesty the Queen awaits you in her chambers.”

“Her chambers?” Juliet arched one eyebrow of relative displeasure.

“I believe the Queen is still in consultation with the Grand maître des cérémonies.”

“The King has been involved in his own preparations all morning,” Dimitri explained—although, to his best knowledge, Isabella had taken charge while Edouard stayed in his salon. It did not seem right to the Duc, who thought funeral planning provided a particularly excellent cathartic experience for anguished fathers. But she had insisted on letting Edouard grieve for his daughter as long as he wished. “Of course, His Majesty shall only be too happy to meet you once he is finished. As will the Prince.”

Dimitri was not in any position to make promises for him, yet he knew that if Octavien had any objections to meeting the Queen's mother, it would soon be buried by the Duchess’ own wishes anyway.

“Of course,” Juliet cast one measured glance at the Prince’s quarters before turning back to Dimitri. “On this most tragic of mornings, I bid you good day, Duc d’Lorraine.”

Dimitri bowed low, waiting in the hall until the Chief Steward re-emerged from Isabella’s suite. Th latter’s forehead shimmered. The triangular slip of perfumed cloth in his pocket must have felt as attractive as the peek of a woman’s tongue between her red lips; but in front of the Duc, he could not reach for it, and so the beads of perspiration remained on his wide forehead.

They shared a glance, before Dimitri tipped his hat in a gesture more of sympathy than anything else. “I leave the Duchess in your capable hands.”

***

After sending a messenger to the King’s chambers informing him of the Duchess’ arrival, Dimitri decided he needed to get away from the royal family.

For an hour, at least.

It was not that he had tired of their grief and all-around depression—he had been meticulously raised to not tire of the royals over anything, and so such an emotion could not possibly exist within him—but that he felt today to be an absolutely essential chance to observe the palace inhabitants.

In the end, Adalita did not die a natural death. Would her assassin be bold enough to watch them lay her at peace?

Returning to the main floor, Dimitri found slightly more courtiers milling about. In an odd turn of events, his military maroon coat stood out against a general black-and-greyness about the palace floors. Yet everyone was dressed in differing degrees of sober extravagance—a funeral this may be, but it was still a social event, and only a royal funeral could bring as many important personages together as a royal marriage.

((Approachable.))

((Sounds good Seiza! I have a second charcter all mocked up and their app. is actually posted but I want to wait for a more opportune moment to introduce her. But for the love of :smurf: s I have no idea when that will be.))

César
 

It was an interesting thing, fate's sense of humor, and how it sometimes seemed to be a mischievous partner in crime to the young Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan. The comment he had made to Octavien, about wishing to see the reaction his unchanged attire would bring, had mostly been a simple joke. Not that his words had been untrue, for indeed it would be interesting, but he had not thought there would be very many to witness and notice it. However, as it turned out, now fate decided to provide him with an audience worthy of... well... He supposed to he'd had to label it an audience worthy of royalty, as the reception forming on and around the stairs he had just left, was clearly not meant for him, but for the Queen's mother, Juliet de Margoles. Octavien had mentioned she would be arriving today, and considering the commotion that had commenced behind César now, with servants and everyone else of the household staff hurrying into position, the lady coming towards him in the company of Duc d'Lorraine was none other. And it left César to be seen by every servant, and every guard, and - as the members of the court started gathering as well - every courtier that had observed him the previous day, and for them to notice that he had just left the royal floor, wearing the same striking, albeit now slightly wrinkled ensemble as the day before.

How many actually noticed, however, was a different matter. They all seemed rather preoccupied, and understandably so.

As the Duchesse de Margoles and the Duc d'Lorraine drew closer to the stairs, César tactfully stepped aside, and greeted them both with a bow as they passed him by. Though considering everyone was supposed to, and bows and curtsies were all around, neither of the two seemed to pay much attention to who did, just as long as they did.

He remained there, at the foot of the stairs, until they had reached the top of it, as he supposed it would be considered bad manners for him to pay no more interest than to be on his way just as soon as they had their backs towards him. In the meantime, he allowed his eyes to roam the rest of the grand Palace entrance, to see who else was there, though found only two faces he recognized; that of Comtesse de Valois, who earned a slight smile from him simply for being there, and the lady whom he had seen in the Duc's company the previous day, and whose name he had yet to learn. However, as the distance was too great between the two of them and himself, and this was hardly a time for socializing, he settled for offering a slight but curteous nod in their directions, before resuming his retreat to his own suite.

((OK with this post I declare afternoon all current courtiers should be at the funeral, so you are invited. I hope you don't mind this new style. As shenan posted morning announcements etc. as if she was looking down on it all, i have gone for a mix of that, my perspective as Mercy and the perspectives of other characters.

A little man handling of Dimitri and Octavian here, so if you do not wish for it to be Seiza, Atropa feel free to tell me.))

Mercy was suprised to see she was in fact the first person inside the chapel besides the Prince, the King, the Queen and her mother and the unknown clergy man at the front of the ornate chamber, she had passed Dimitri giving instructions to the King's carriage drivers outside She had no doubt that every other member of today's congregation would recognise the man, but Mercy had never found any solice in the christian church, in deed if she had any belief in God her past would have been more or less unbarable. she sighed as she settled in a pew to the side of the Chapel and two behind the Royal's, in such a way she could coin peoples expressions through out the precedings without it being obvious.

******

Juliet looked around the Chapel it was beautiful and ornate but very small, she sighed Isabella had said it was a beautiful place to pay tribute to a beautiful life they had lost, Edouard had said it was good as it was not far to trouble and they could monitor who came to the funeral, strangely Isabella had been most adimant that this was vital, which was a strange thought. The Prince, her step-grand-daughters husband had been remarkably quiet as far as she could ascertain, it seemed his grief was beyond tears and beyond very much speaking at all, the Queen and herself had taken one carriage and the young Prince had gone ahead seperatly with the King and his Comrade, the Duc. So she had not had a chance to say more than "I'm so sorry to the man on the way into the chapel."

She glanced at the preacher, the Royal family's ethical advisor. Old, cantankerous and decidedly barmy. You really would need to be desperate to approach this man when you were seeking Goddly advise, she wished once again she had requested the presence of her nephew the Bishop of Chanterie with her on this trip. He could have performed this ceremony excellently.

******

Father Montrei popped back into the vestry and "checked" on the wine for mass on sunday, fortunately it was not a sin, for he needed something to cut down the stress of the day, A royal funeral! Mind you he seemed to be getting stressed quite alot recently...

******

Father Montrei stepped out of the vestry and silence fell.

Oh Lord give me strength he thought.

Oh Lord give me patience Juliet prayed.

Oh Lord what is she wearing? Mercy muttered under her breath.

The ceremony that followed was simple, but heart filled. As they moved outisde folowing the coffin, there was a social line, the Royalty followed by nobles, the Ducs and Duchesses, Comtes and Comtesses, Barons and Baronesses filled out of the chapel, the stood around a small crypt, the entrance was slowly sealed by young men in dark suits.

The father gave a final reading...

"What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,

'For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.'

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

And the people disbanded, whilst women cried and men walked quietly and respectfully away Isabella cried from behind a vail, Octavien simply stood looking down into the dark crypt entrance his fringe obscured his face so the look, which was obviously sad was still hard to decipher, Edouard grasped the shoulder of a very dear friend and Juliet placed her hand across the well at the bottom of her neck, Mercy however returned to the church in search of a black velvet rose from her dress, that had fallen off, she found it caught on the edge of the pew where she had been sitting a chunk had been removed and it had snagged the rose, causing it to tear leaving loose threads on her dress she turned to leave and then heard a shuffling in the vestry, the door was slightly ajar and Mercy, beng Mercy, advanced towards it, she caught a glimpse of a certain father. She coughed and dropped a certain black rose, the father turned, realised what had happened and went to see who had caught him, but only finding a black rose and a door swinging shut he slammed the vestry door and threw the bottle at the opposite wall.

Mercy left the chapel once again, only to see the Queen hanging rather limply in the arms of her husband, her feet supported by Edouard's support system, the handsome Duc and her head by her mother who was saying very loudly, "she is not holding up well, not at all, we shall return to the palace to back and tomorrow she shall return with me, this is too much, to lose Adalita, she needs a change of scenery." The first royal carriage pulled up, the driver jumped down to open the door of the carriage, Juliet however waved him away as a female noble, whom she had seen briefly yesterday had already opened the door. She nodded to the Duc and the King and as Isabella was laid down upon one of the long seats of the coach Isabella muttered something quietly Juliet gestured for the woman to join her. And the carriage pulled away leaving the King and his Companion to take the second Royal carriage.

******

Mercy knelt by the side of the queen and checked her forehead, she was warm but not too warm.

"Can you supervise the packing of the Queens belongings for me?" Juliet asked as she held her daughters hand.

"Ceratinly your ladyship," Mercy nodded her bowed head.

When they finally reached the palace Juliet stepped out of the carriage to give orders the servant.

Mercy smiled gently at Isabella, and said "I'm glad you found happiness, and I'm sure it will still be here when you return. As for your kingdom, it will be well cared for." She gently kissed the Queen's hand and left in order to find Margaret who would need to help back the Queen's things and her own clothing as well.

Marie-Elisabeth - Hallways
 

Marie-Elisabeth had sat quietly in one of the pews of the Chapel, her hands folded in her lap. She wasn’t overly religious, but she had always thought there was a certain beauty to chapels. All the beautiful ornamentation and stained glass were definitely works of art to be admired.

She had followed in the line to the crypt, the size of it causing a momentary panic. It was so small and so easily filled, it made her think that it could easily be her own child lying there. She had a sudden urge to want to hold Charles in her arms, to assure herself that he was real and he was okay.

But she knew she couldn’t do that. He was miles away, being cared for by people that weren’t her. She was surprised at how much the loss of his presence was hurting her, and she hadn’t really been prepared for it. The funeral had really brought into focus everything that she had lost, as well as bringing up unpleasant memories of Charles’ death years earlier. He might not have been any kind of handsome knight in shining armour like young girls dreamt about, but he had loved her and she missed that feeling.

As soon as the proceedings were over, Marie-Elisabeth left with one hand holding her locket closely to her. She had almost been entertaining the idea of sending for Charles, but didn’t think it would ever come to fruition. She knew that a court like this wasn’t the place for a child, at least not right now. Even a normally pleasant and fun loving person like her was starting to become affected by the general gloomy atmosphere. She wanted to go and write a letter to her son, but figured she would wait until she was at least in a better mood and could write something cheerful to him.

So she settled for simply walking in the general direction of her rooms, thinking she might write to her sister instead. She still hadn’t written to Marie-Caroline since she had arrived, which was surprising considering she has her favourite sister. And in a family of 11 sisters, that said something. She knew her dear sister wouldn’t mind hearing from her now, she was half expecting a displeased “Why didn’t you write to me sooner” letter to be waiting for her when she got to her suite.



(((OOC: Approachable, she just basicly wandering the halls)))

Mercy had located Margaret and informed her of the Queen's emminant move back to her parents palace. And after dispatching Helena to help Margaret with her own packing and insisting they sent for her when they got to packing her Magesty's. Mercy herself needed some time to compose a letter, she was planning on placing it inside the queen's lugage as a small comfort, showing the people at the Palace of Light and Air missed her. Also if Mercy was constructing a letter herself, she could seal easily seal another inside with it, perhaps she had been too harsh on a certain Prince...

She was still pondering this fact when she came across a young woman, "Good day Comtesse." She gave a reasonable bow, but felt a slight pain in her back after doing so. It would seem age and corsets were taking their toll on Mercy. Marie-Elisabeth was an attractive young woman, such a shame to see a young widow, even Mercy had been in the region of 12-15 years older before she was widowed. She sensed however the age of their becoming a widow was not the only difference in those chapters of their lives.

"The funeral was very moving was it not?" Mercy gave a half smile, so as not to seem to hapy on such a dark day, and to change the subject from things making her feel old.

Marie-Elisabeth and Mercy
 

“Ah good afternoon Baroness Flight, It was indeed very moving. I've never seen a Chapel so lovely” said Marie-Elisabeth, releasing her tight hold on the locket around her neck. She was glad to actually have some female company to talk to, seeing as everyone she had met over the past few days had been male.

Not that she mad minded the male company; on the contrary she had rather enjoyed it. In fact she was hoping to enjoy that same company again sometime soon. But for now she was perfectly content to talk to another woman. One she was hoping wouldn’t quite fault her as much on things like removing a wedding ring when your husband was long dead. And judging by the use of what Marie-Elisabeth had gathered to be her maiden name, she was thinking she could just be right.

“Times like these really make you think about everything you’ve lost in life” she said, realizing her thoughts had wandered again and not wanting to seem rude. “And of course be very grateful for everything you’ve still got. It must be such a comfort to the Queen to have her mother here, and for the King to have such a close friend in the duc d'Lorraine. I had one of my sisters come to stay with me for a while after Charles passed away and I don’t know what I would have done without her”.

César
 

In this world, no matter where one was from or what social class one belonged to, there would always be things that one could not effect, but that would rather effect oneself instead. Death being one such thing. There was nothing like a funeral for someone so young in body and spirit as Adalita, to dampen the high spirits of even the most cheerful of men. Especially not when the man in question was a father, and the deceased was little more than a child.
Prior to the ceremony, César had nourished the notion that he would remain somewhat unaffected by the whole affair. Properly sombre, and sad on Octavien's behalf, of course, but relatively unaffected. He did not know the deceased, and thus the loss was not his, nor did he have any personal memories of her. And Lord should know he had been to his fair share of similar funerals, even though none had been so grand as this one, for the simple fact that while the people he had seen buried had been everything from wealthy commoners to Ducs and Duchesses, none of them had ever been royals.

But, as the doleful ceremony progressed, he found his gaze constantly seeking the King, seeing the loss and the grief thereof etched into his every aged feature, even though alot of of it was hidden behind the noble mask the royals were expected to maintain at all times. It was a look that pinched at César's heart, and made it ache for the older man, as it conjured visions of what it would be like to loose one of his own daughters. God forbid that would ever happen. He could only imagine the pain it would bring him, the pain that Edouard must be feeling as he witnessed the casket being lowered into the earth.


After the ceremony, he'd put his arm around Joséphine's waist, and together they had approached Octavien to deliver their condolences, and simply talk, as César wanted to determine what state Octavien was really in. He'd seemed to hold up fairly well the night before, and he had confided in César that despite how things appeared, there had been no love between him and Adalita. He'd cared for her, yes, but he hadn't loved her, nor had she loved him. But he hadn't gone into details of why they had married, but simply saidhe would tell César about it at a later, more appropriate time.
And so, while César knew that Octavien wasn't in fact suffering the torments of someone who had just lost the love of their life, he was suffering the loss of someone whom he had cared for, and that was enough for César to be concerned about him.

However, they hadn't gotten to talk for more than a minute or two, when suddenly the collapse of the Queen had Octavien apparently forgetting all about César and Joséphine. He'd rushed to Isabella's side, and along with the King, the Duc d'Lorraine and that woman César kept seeing everywhere, helped her into one of the royal carriages. As it sped off towards the Palace, the second royal Carriage pulled up for the rest of royal family, and Octavien had only had time to turn and offer the Marquis and Marquise a faint, bleak smile to apologize for his abrupt and rather rude departure, and leave them knowing that he intended for the three of them to meet properly, as soon as things had settled down.

César and Joséphine had returned to the Palace in their own carriage, and César had gone directly to their daughters' room. The events of the afternoon had gotten him thinking of just how much he treasured their round little faces, and how little time he really spent with them. Granted, it was more than most fathers did, yet now, in light of the funeral, seemed so very little to him.

He found them on the floor in the middle of their suite, in a rare moment of playing nicely together, with some of the toys they had gotten to bring with them from home. Though as soon as they had spotted him, toys had gone flying, as they treasured him just as much as he treasured them, and so couldn't get to him fast enough. Sitting down on his heels, César welcomed them both into his arms, and couldn't help but laugh at their enthusiasm.

"My, what a lucky man I am", he said. "To have two girls as pretty as you so happy to see me."

Pressing a loud kiss on each girls' soft cheek, having both of them squeal with delight, he then stood, still holding them both in his arms.

"How would you two like to help me explore the Palace?" he asked, and chuckled again when the question caused another fit of delighted squeals, along with a few moments of excited and absolutely incomprehensible chatter. "Good, for I fear I shall get lost without the help of my two favorite girls."

With that, he placed both daughters safely back on the ground, and together they left the suite to roam the hallways.


(((Most approachable. )))

(((ooc: Poorly written, but I'm in a hurry, as I wanted to get this in before I head off to work. Octavien coming tomorrow, hopefully.
Ghanima - Hope it's ok I godmodded Jo a little bit?)))

((ooc: Yes, it's more than ok considering I've been so inactive. I am really trying to summon some inspiration and will to write and hope to finally get something done tomorrow. I don't want to disappoint everyone by dropping out... ))

Octavien
 

(((ooc: I just realized that in my César post, I mentioned Adalita being buried, when Fayreview's post mentioned a crypt, but also Octavien staring down into the grave, which was what I was thinking of when I wrote it. I'm not sure which it is supposed to be, but as it's not particularly important to the RP itself, I'll leave my post as is.

Ghanima - Well, I don't think anyone would blame you if you did, but it would be terribly sad indeed, and I can honestly say that I would rather your replies were few and far apart, than not there at all. Not that I wouldn't just love to have your posts be many and anything but far apart ( ), but if those other two were my only options, then yeah, most definately occasional posts rather than none at all.
Hope your inspiration will soon return with a vengeance! )))



A widower. At court for just a few months, married for but a few days, and already a widower. Long before he had even gotten used to the idea of being married in the first place. So very strange, the happenings of the last couple of weeks. Surreal almost. And yet it was nothing in comparison with standing in the chapel, awaiting the funeral of a young wife whom he was supposed to love but did not, along with with the King, Isabella's mother, and Isabella herself; the woman he did love, but was forbidden to... So very, very strange.

If he was quiet, it was because he was struggling to make sense of his own feelings and thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder if he, in some obscure, roundabout way, was responsible for what had happened to Adalita. Had he ever during their brief time as a married couple, wished she was dead, or otherwise gone? Just for a second, unintentionally even?
He didn't know. Try hard as he may, he simply could not remember. He was a noble young man, not usually prone to wishing people dead for no giant reason, but he did not put himself above the dark and devious thoughts that would sometimes flicker in the mind of mankind either. And not remembering something did not mean it had never been there.
He simply did not know. All that he did know, all that he could think of, was how he had barely known her, and that what little he had known, he hadn't liked very much, considering it had involved little more than false promises, betrayal, and walking all over his good intentions and sense of duty.
Yet perhaps the strangest thing of all, was that he still mourned her. Not out of duty, not because he was as loyal a husband as he could've been, circumstances being what they were, and not because he was expected to. They were all part of it, yes, but none of them were the main reason.
The main reason was that, despite all her flaws and her ungratefulness, he had cared for her. Behind her thoughtless and rather inconsiderate exterior, he had seen a young girl that was simply too naive and spoilt to take into consideration how her actions affected others. Was it not the very reason for the urgency to find a suitable husband, when she would have had a few months yet before her eighteenth birthday to find one, had she not been so careless?
But, with the right people around her, and more importantly without the influence of a certain libertine Duc, she'd had the potential of growing into a most able and refined woman, and some day Queen.

Now, that would never happen. Now, the Kingdom was once again without heir to the throne, and it's future was uncertain. As was Octavien's. Looking at it with crass eyes, at the sordid reality, officially he had been brought into the royal family for one purpose and one purpose only; to produce an heir. With Adalita gone, that duty was no longer his to fulfill, thus leaving him perhaps even more undesirable than before. He was an intelligent and enlightened young man, well aware of how the world around him worked. He harboured no delusions. There were many people, commoners and courtiers alike, that did not take all to kindly to an untitled man made Prince only through his marriage to the Princess. Imagine their thoughts now, when his 'claim' to the royal family was no more. Knowing how devious, jealous and petty the human mind could be, Octavien even saw the possibility that people would start blaming him for Adalita's death, and claim that he was somehow behind it.
It wouldn't be the first time people saw evil where there was none. Many greater misconceptions had been born from far less than this.

These were the deep, deep thoughts on the young Prince's mind, as he stood staring at the coffin, while the rest of the funeral party slowly disbanded. It even took César three attempts to get his attention before finally succeeding.
However, the same could not be said for Isabella. The moment Octavien heard someone gasp her name as she slumped in her husband's grasp, his head snapped in her direction, and within moments he was by her side.
Without thinking.

He realized that later, while in the carriage on the way back to the Palace; that perhaps he had shown too much concern for being just a son-inlaw. In that very moment, upholding the facade that he and Isabella had so carefully built, had been the last thing on his mind, brutally shoved aside by genuine concern and love he had for her.
It had by no means been blatantly obvious, and he had not insisted to be the one to support her or help her into the carriage, but it might have been enough to create just the tiniest spark of puzzlement in those that had a sense for subtleties. The King himself may be too detached to ever notice the exchange of glances between his wife and the young Prince, which, granted, were careful and well guarded, and would take a keen-eyed man or woman indeed to notice. But while the King may not be that kind of man, the Duc d'Lorraine seemed to be exactly that kind of man. Hawk-eyed and alert, leaving little to pass him by. And now there was also Juliet, Isabella's mother, who Octavien had a feeling knew her daughter well enough to smell a rat, if they were not careful. Or rather; a lover. Not to mention that elusive female sixth sense, called female intuition, which most women of Juliet's caliber seemed to possess.

It was all the reason why Octavien kept staring firmly out the carriage window, avoiding any possible attempts to make eye contact, knowing the others were likely to assume he was still deep in sad thought from the funeral. And it was the reason why when they reached the Palace, and it became clear to him that Isabella would indeed journey back to her parents' estate for a healthy 'change of scenery', he humbly excused himself from all of them, claiming he needed some time to himself, to clear his head.
Though in all honesty, it was not just an excuse. He really did feel that he needed to clear his head.

And he did it the best way he knew how. With complete disregard of the winter cold, or perhaps in plain defiance of it, he set out for the stables, his determined stride rapidly eating up the distance, and his firmly commanding voice as he asked for his horse to be saddled silencing any and all protest from the stableboys, before they had even begun.
Minutes later the fair-haired Prince, clothed in all black, could be seen charging off across the stable yard, towards the forrest, in a burst of wild, thunderous gallop. His heels kept kicking at the horse's sides, urging it on and on, as if he was attempting to ride out all the frustration pent up in him, determined not to stop until they were both completely, utterly exhausted.


(((Approachable. *s*)))

Dimitri &... kids!
 

It had to be because of the confusion of everything happening too fast—the Queen slipping to the floor not five paces away from him, her elaborate gown billowing around her in a cloud of ebony—the King’s arms wrapping around her, on the verge of being pulled down himself by the weight of her dress—a heart’s beat later, Dimitri and Octavien’s hands shooting out to grasp the Queen’s arms, left and right, at the same time, propping up her weakened body.

It had to be, because he could not remember what had gone through his mind at that time.

It was only in the carriage taking them back to the Palace, sitting opposite the royals, neither of whom was looking at him at the moment—it was only there that he remembered. His grey eyes lowered to the hands resting on his lap, then turned to the Prince’s; and Frederico’s warning returned like an old whisper in his mind.

Someone should have found his carriage by now...

The first horror to cross the Duc’s mind was failure—that in his anger over Adalita, and haste with Frederico, he had overlooked the Queen’s own safety to let the assassin reach her. The anxiety increasingly settled itself into the deepest nooks of his mind, not likely to leave until they reached the Palace and no less than three physicians were done examining her.

When he looked at Octavien in the chapel, the younger man’s eyes had been only on the dazed Queen. Now it was searching the wintry clouds beyond the carriage window. Dimitri could not recall, at the moment, how much the Prince knew about Adalita’s poisoning. Perhaps he knew everything, and so he worried as well. That was one possibility.

What other possibilities ran through the Duc’s mind, they were best let loose while his own eyes turned to the scenery outside.

***

It felt like years had come and gone, a new Pope chosen and several wars declared, provisioned and won; before Dimitri finally left Edouard’s suite. The whole time had been spent sitting with the King awaiting news of Isabella’s health, discussing her return home, listening to Juliet’s insistence that the Queen return home over Edouard’s protests that she did not...

Dimitri listened with both ears, while keeping one eye on the Prince.

Octavien had been rather quiet, but with so many variables involved, he could not determine if that was unusual. He had never seen him in a funeral, with the King, or anywhere outside that one lunch that felt so long ago. Perhaps the young man was simply quiet all the time.

When Dimitri left, the sun looked different... and he was still in his ceremonial suit. Damn.

He had been sitting and standing and praying in covered buildings all day, yet it felt as if he had just returned from a drawn-out march across the Siberian plains. It gripped him not with exhaustion, but with a vehement aversion to closed spaces. He felt an immense desire to saddle a horse, grab a rifle, ride away from the walls and shoot the first thing that moved. If only it wasn’t winter.

Not that it had stopped him from shooting the Marquis.

Dimitri was missing everything else, but there was certainly something moving in the corner of his eye—two little girls. He recognised them as the de la Vallière children, and waited for them; a towering figure in scarlet and black and gold, ready to intone ‘young ladies do not run in hallways’ or something equally grave and adult-like.

______

((Tag! Indulgent-papa-Cesar! :D

Ghanima: I can't say it better than she did, so I'll just settle for saying "what Atropa said" I love reading your posts anyway, so I would wait for one every other day anyway!))

((So I did Atropa that is what I get for writing it in two parts..... I originally went for a grave but then decided as a royal she would probably have a crypt, brain malfunction huh! oh well I'll settle for crypt then.))

Mercy nodded "the chapel was stunning, I however cannot help but wonder about the minister though, something about him did not seem quite right." Mercy knew precisely why that was but she should store that gossip for a later date, not too much later though in case he suceeded at drinking himself into an early grave. "But what a horrific descision to have to make a minister to reside over the final resting of a child princess.

"And I know what you mean, the Queen is lucky to have such a caring mother, and people would be no where without good friends and the good family who can be good friends." She smiled at the young woman," I was with my cousin in Italy when I heard of my own huband's demise," she gave a half smile, anyone looking at Mercy would have taken it to be a fond rememberance of the man when he was alive, but in deed it was a fond rememberance of being free froma man who had deserted her and around people who did not know she was in fact a fresh widow and should be mourning. "Fortunately my daughter was grown when that time came I cannot imagine how hard it must be with a son to care for Comtesse."

If Mercy was honest she did not miss her husbands' infidelity, she did not miss her daughters' snide comments and harsh tongue and she did not miss her sisters' ignorance of the feelings of those around her. She however sensed she was not free of any of these things if only she knew the truth..... and within very little time she would.

((Sorry couldnt resist a Desperate housewives style ending ))

“It can be hard at times, yes” said Marie-Elisabeth, a smile gracing her face as she fiddled with the locket around her neck “But Charles was so very young when his father passed away, I don’t think he remembers much about him unfortunately. Most of what he does remember is from things I tell him”. She sighed slightly and glanced around them. “But as everyone knows, boys need their fathers in their lives. Who else will teach them all those manly things we women are so non adept at?”

Of course there was also the fact that Marie-Elisabeth herself missed the male companionship. She missed it very much in fact. Not that Charles had ever been particularly…..skilled in certain matters; she privately considered it a miracle that they had conceived a child together at all.

No, it was more the attention she missed, the feeling of being loved and being adored by someone. That was what she had cared about the most. It was also one of the few reasons she had ever considered getting married again, but the opportunity had never arisen. She could only hope that, now having more of a choice in her husband, she’d be able to truly marry someone for love.

“You’re very right about having people close to you in times like these though Baroness, I definitely agree with you in that respect” she finally said, letting her locket drop back onto her chest “In fact, I was just considering writing something to the sister I told you about, Marie-Caroline”.

She bit back a laugh and settled for a faint one. “You know, what my mother was thinking naming all 11 of us Marie something I shall never understand. But I do fear Caroline might already have written me and be rather angry I didn’t write yet”.


(((OOC: This is completely random, but in Marie-Elisabeth's profile there's now a link to a picture I found on DeviantArt. It's by an amazingly talented artist, and it PERFECTLY captures the "look" I was talking about previously as being on Marie-Elisabeth's face a lot. Go take a look! )))

César w/ daughters & Dimitri
 

(((ooc: Oh god, Seiza, when I first read the part about Dimitri shooting the Marquis, I though you meant César. :laugh:
Ghanima - Works just fine. I'm glad you didn't have him simply ignore her. Thank you. And may I just say "yay!" )))


Advancing down the hallways, daughters sometimes pulling him by the hand, sometimes pushing him from behind, and sometimes simply skipping ahead, César had begun to ponder. All day Joséphine had been unusually quiet, hardly saying one word that was not absolutely necessary. At first, he had thought she was just tired, knowing well the trouble she tended to have falling asleep when he was not laying next to her. Though he intentionally failed to realize that that just might have something to do with her possibly knowing that when not spending the night with her, he was probably spending it with another woman. Nope, he had decided that her troubles had to do with her needing to feel his arms around her because she loved him so much, and not for the simple comfort of knowing that he was really there.

Then, he had thought it was the gloom of the Palace and the royal funeral that had gotten to her, and dampened her spirits. After all, even César himself had been touched by it, and women were so much more susceptible to such things than men were. They could easily dwell on such things for hours, days even. Especially someone with a mind as philosophical as Joséphine's, which was bound to mull over the twists and turns of fate, and how no matter how much power and wealth you had, there were still some things that would always remain beyond your control, and so on and so forth. There was no limit to the depths to which her mind could travel when the mood hit her.

That thought in mind, César had eventually chalked Joséphine's odd behaviour up to her contemplative nature, mixed with a dash of simple female sentimentality, and so had decided upon their return to the Palace to give her a little peace and quiet, a chance to be alone with her thoughts and sort them out, as well as maybe rest for a bit.
But, as he had leaned forward and kissed her goodbye, he'd thought he'd sensed a bit of hostility in the air around her, which had left him with the feeling that she was somehow angry with him. Though for what, he did not know.
Nor did he get a chance to figure it out, as it was remarkable how fast tiny little legs could carry two very excited and adventurous toddlers out of sight.

"Mon bien-aimé Filles?" he called softly, to avoid having his deepish voice join in the giggling echoes of the grand hallways, and quickened his pace to round the corner where the girls had disappeared moments earlier, only to find that instead of seeing them slip around yet another, or worse, knocking over some priceless vase, they had stopped dead in their tracks, and were now staring at a large and unexpected obstacle looming ominously in their path.

Why, it was none other than the Duc d'Lorraine, looking less than mildly amused in his dark ceremonial attire, with a stern expression to match. Now, wasn't this a potentially interesting encounter in the making?

"Ah, pardon monsiuer", César said as he caught up with his darling daughters and came to a halt, at which point the youngest, Angélique, quickly ducked behind him, to peer up at the imposing Duc from blessed safety. "I fear the celerity of my daughters keeps growing with each passing day, that I have a hard time keeping up with them. My apologies if they have caused you any nuisance."

Dimitri, César & teh chilluns
 

(( But hey, you never know, the power of foreshadowing...))

______

Sometimes Dimitri thought he understood, but more often he found himself uncomprehending of the Lord’s humour.

This was one of those times.

Having just lain to rest a restless young lady, (he resisted the urge to rub his eyes in a daze, instead clasping his hands behind his back), he found himself staring down the wide, fresh faces of Adalita ten—no, fifteen years past. The torrent of curls cascading from their heads, not yet coarsened by life’s trimmings; their wide eyes turned upon him in childlike fear, for was he not the one who always caught her scaling tables and, even, a chandelier once?

Despite the mahogany colouring, despite the dress; everything was the same.

There was even the soft patter of footsteps following them, as harried servants or flustered parents tried to keep up with such rapid, fleeting baby feet. Now someone would come up and apologise for the ruckus. Edouard never needed to, but on the rare occasions he chased after the little Princess, he would ‘apologise’ with the subtle pride of a parent that so aggravated babysitters everywhere. Dimitri was no less guilty...

“Ah, pardon monsiuer.”

It was the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan himself. That was—unexpected.

“I fear the celerity of my daughters' keeps growing with each passing day, that I have a hard time keeping up with them. My apologies if they have caused you any nuisance.”

“Young ladies blazing through a court always cause a nuisance, Marquis.”

He spoke to the Marquis, but he looked sternly at the one girl still standing between them. Even though he seemed on the brink of delivering a mighty scolding, she did not move. She looked no older than three, four-plus at most. The other one had already escaped to the safety of her father, but this one remained where she was—perhaps she was a deer caught in a glare, or she was an Amazon drawing up her strength. Nobody wanted to look scared in front of their siblings.

“Luckily,” at this, Dimitri leaned forward, startling the child. But his voice was only conspiratorial, and his eyes glinted. “You are just a little girl, and the King will not hear your little feet all the way upstairs.”

He knew well the habits of children. Tell them they were too young for anything, they would be broken from whatever emotion ensnared them—even the fear of strangers—to protest vehemently; and the fear was forgotten in all their childish righteousness.

((Evening will eb called in 24 hours, and Slytherin girl I will write up a reply tomorrow morning, but sadly I must dash right now.))

((ooc: I completlely agree with Atropa. It's difficult to write a meaningful arc in that short a time...even if people posted daily, which for various reasons doesn't always happen. Besides...I don't see the rush. We have a small group here that could perhaps use a little more time to develop their characters beyond short chats and rushed plotlines that have to be written before evening/night/morning falls))

((I agree with all three above.

Oh, but didn't you want to introduce the third advisor the RP next morning? If so, I don't think there's any harm in introducing him/her/it on this very day itself.

slytherin-girl: First, the DA drawing-- I love it! I remember reading your description at one point that Marie-Elisabeth has a face that looks like she is always "up to something"... but with THAT cheeky look, no wonder Dimitri thought she was getting herself in trouble!

And Charles Jr. is cuuuuute. *wants him to snuggle!* The look on her face, though... ))

((Ok your point is taken so 48 hours until evening, I was planning on slowing it down after this RP day anyway. But now is ok too.))

Octavien & Joséhine - riding in the forest
 

(((ooc: Seiza - Yeah, I was thinking about the third advisor too, but I don't see any reason for him to wait until morning to start posting. I mean, yes, he could still be formally introduced during the morning announcement, but he'd have to arrive before that, no? Might just as well be this RP afternoon/evening?
slytherin - *lol* I love it. Their son is indeed a cutie, and Charles does seem mighty proud to have a pretty, young thing like her as his wife!
Fayre - Great! Thanks!)))



Had the trees of the forest had eyes and voices of their own, there would have been a soft murmur following in the wake of the Prince's violent rampage on the winding, frozen paths, of a young man riding as though the Devil himself was nipping at the heels of his horse. With merciless resolution he urged the magnificent beast onward and onward, kicking at it's sides at even the slighest indication that it might be slowing down. It didn't seem to matter how fast they went, it still was never quite fast enough. For it was true, what Octavien was trying to outrun, was something far more difficult to shake, than the Devil.
It was his thoughts he was trying to escape. Each and every single troubled notion that was currently clawing away at his sanity, and his peace of mind. Adalita's death, and where it would leave him, now that his purpose as Prince was void, and his relationship with the King distant and polite at best. The threats Mercy had made, and how while at first he had considered her to be judged far too harshly by others, he now knew that the reputation she had was most well-deserved indeed. Then there was Roseline, another lady he seemed to have misjudged greatly, thinking, hoping, she was someone he could trust - a confidant - only to discover that it seemed to be a most one-sided feeling.

But, no matter how much all those things bothered him, they were not what bothered him the most. What bothered him the most, was Isabella's dwindling health, and now her impending departure from the Palace as well, to an estate far away where he could neither talk to her, nor see her at all and make sure she was alright. Despite her reassurance that she was in perfect health, he worried about her. Even more so now, following her collapse outside the chapel. He'd known grief to take it's toll on women before, but Isabella, with her poise and cool self restraint, was not just any woman. She'd made keeping one's composure into an art, an art that she mastered far better than anyone else he knew... So no matter what she said, she was not alright. And as if not being able to keep an eye on her was not bad enough, with her gone, it was not only his formal ties with the royal family that were gone, but the friendly ones as well. He doubted the King had anything against him, but considering how distant Edouard was, he would've hardly found reasons to care for Octavien either, beside the fact that as far as he knew, Octavien had been the love of his darling daughter's life. But with Adalita gone, would that still be enough reason to have him remain as part of the family? Especially considering that not only would Isabella no longer be there to influence her husband to Octavien's advantage, but with her out of the way, others were sure to make a play for her way to the King's ear. There was no telling just what that might entail. At court, everyone seemed to have their own hidden agenda, and woe betide anyone who got in the way, intentionally or otherwise.

Then there were the remnants of past troubles, that still inhabited a small part of his mind. Feelings that had yet to ebb away, and a need for conviction that there were no loose ends, which only time could provide. Marquess Berini, who had now been released from the dungeons; only time would tell if he would honor the "agreement" he had with Octavien, and keep his mouth shut, and never set foot in the kingdom again. The Duc Peitou-Charentes, who had claimed that Octavien had ruined his life; even though the man seemed to have crawled back underneath the rock from which he'd come, Octavien had to wonder if that accusation was the full extent of how his deluded mind would rear it's ugly head, or if he would somehow attempt to get his revenge, no matter how unjust.

Together, all these troubles twisted and turned in Octavien's mind, using the distraction that Adalita's funeral, Isabella's collapse, and the presence of two dangerously alert people had brought him this afternoon, to entangle themselves with one another, and create an intricate cat's cradle of thoughts and emotions that he just could not sort out. Not until he had purged himself of it all, and could start anew by carefully untangling each thread, one by one.

Underneath him, the hard, frozen ground was rushing past in a blur of brown and white, sprinkled with patches of sickly yellow where the snow had melted away and uncovered the dead leaves and grass of the autumn passed.
Not that Octavien noticed. Leaning forward as he kept urging the horse on, he only saw what came rushing towards them, prepared to duck when branches hung low and threatened to pull him out of the saddle, or leap over fallen trees and bushes that might appear in their path, dashing forth like a madman, until the wind started peeling away his troubles, one after another, leaving them to fall gently to the ground behind horse and rider, like soft petals shed from a withering rose.

At last, there was silence in his mind. Blessed, longed-for silence. Nothing but the gentle whisper of the wind, and the thuds of gallopping hooves resounding in his mind. Troubles did not exist, court and Palace were not even a memory. There was only sweet, blissfull peace.

With horse and rider now both spent, every last drop of energy drained from their sweaty bodies, the pace finally begun to slow, and as Octavien slumped over in the saddle, resting wearily against the horse's damp neck, the beast soon came to a complete, grateful halt, steam shooting out of it's nostrils, and it's chest heaving violently along with Octavien's as both struggled to catch their breath.

However, the peace would turn out to be short-lived. The Prince soon fought himself back into an upright position, as even through the rapid gasps for air and the soft susurration in his head, he heard the sound of something - or someone - approaching. Though he had a hard time determining from where, as the path was empty in both directions. Only when he heard a gasp, was he able to register from where the sounds had come, and he quickly turned his head.

Emerging from the trees and bushes, on a horse that he recognised as being one of the more temperamental specimens in the royal stables, was just about the last person he had expected to see; Joséphine.
Oh, how very ironic.
Just when he had finally succeeded in shaking all of his troubles, even for just a little while, the cause for another appeared, in the form of a stunningly beautiful young brunette, with cheeks flushing a scarlet hue from her own journey through the woods, and eyes that seemed to have sparkled with life just a moment ago.

"Oh...", she said after a few seconds, when the initial surprise had worn off. "I am sorry. I didn't expect anyone would be here."

That was a statement that Octavien wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Had he not known that her reaction to this unexpected encounter had to be very similar to his, he might not have caught the reluctant glimpse that had flashed in her eyes as their gazes had met, and thus simply taken her words to be an indirect apology for disrupting his peaceful ride.
But because of that glimspe, and the uneasiness that had been ever present between them since the... incident, he thought that what he heard was by no means an apology, but rather a wish for her words to be true. Though whether 'anyone' did in fact mean anyone, or just him, he did not know.

"Josephine..." he said, and his gaze drifted over her shoulder to the path behind her, as if expecting someone else to appear in her company, but then returned to her. "You are alone? César is not with you?"

César w/ daughters & César
 

(((ooc: Sorry for the double post, but I didn't want to wait to post this, and the previous one would be far too long if I edited it to add this.)))


When deciding to bring his children with him to court at the Palace of Light and Air, César had been aware that it was a most unconventional thing to do, and that it was a choice that would most certainly cause him to be frowned upon by the other courtiers. As would Joséphine, to some extent, even though at the same time few would have expected her to argue her husband's wishes. He was the man, the head of the household, and so the decisions were his to make. For the most part. Everyone - at least those of the female gender - knew that even the most compliant wife could successfully manipulate her husband into seeing things her way, and make his decisions accordingly, all the while thinking that he was their sole originator.

Such was not the case here, however. Joséphine had been thankful that he had allowed Adèle and Angélique to come, yes, but she hadn't used her smarts and her charms in order for him to do so. She didn't have to. César really did want his daughters with him at court, and by God they would be there, no matter what anyone thought or, since it was the court after all, whispered behind his back.

There were of course those that he expected would not hesitate to show their disapproval openly, through snide remarks, meaning glances, sneers disguised as polite questions, or just plain lectures. The renowned Duc d'Lorraine being one such person. While not seeming the type who was inclined to make nasty comments and feign pleasantries, he did very much seem the type to share his values in a less than gentle manner.
Which was why his reply to César's apology came as no surprise to the young nobleman.

"Young ladies blazing through a court always cause a nuisance, Marquis", he said, and apparently considered himself too busy nailing poor little Adéle to the wall with his piercing stare, to bother even looking at the person to whom he was speaking.

Wanting to comfort the little one seeking refuge behind him, César's hand had found it's way into Angéliques soft curls, but now the motion suddenly ceased, if only for a moment, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He had expected that he himself would be lectured, and he had, as the remark was much like a verbal slap on the wrist. But when it came to reprimanding his children, the only ones doing it would be either him, Joséphine, or the girls' nanny. If people had something to say, they could say it to them, instead of staring down a four year-old.

However, as it turned out, the Duc was not yet done.

"Luckily," he added, "You are just a little girl, and the King will not hear your little feet all the way upstairs."

Within a few additional seconds, he had managed to turn the whole thing around, leaving only César to have been reprimanded, and Adéle to giggle as Dimitri's plotting look had her instantly forgetting how just a moment earlier she'd flinched with fright when he had leant forward. Though Angélique, not yet old enough to comprehend his subtle transformation, was still gripping tightly at her father's breeches, which only made it all the more difficult for him to bite his tongue.

"I suppose you are right, Duc d'Lorraine", he said concededly. "Childish joy can be rather annoying. It is most fortunate then, that you are here to put an end to such foolishness."



(((ooc: Okay, that ended up alot more venomous than I had intended. No offence, Seiza (and Dimitri! )! César just has a problem with authority. *LOL*)))

Octavien & Joséphine - forest
 

There were many things that could be said about young Octavien Lahance. And over the years, many things had been. As a child, he had made himself known among the villagers as the youngest son of Jean-Philippe Lahance, one of the most prominent stud farmers in the entire kingdom. Well-mannered little saint when watched, but suspected no-good rascal when backs were turned. Although rarely proven guilty of anything, mischief had happened one time too many when the angelic, gossamer-haired lad was around, for people not to think he had anything to do with it. But as no one wanted to antagonize the family that were partly to thank for the way the village prospered, the people didn't bring it to their attention, and instead settled for hoping that it was a phase, and that things would change as the boy got older. Though Jean-Phillipe and his wife Marguerite-Antoinette didn't need to be told about their youngest son's shenanigans. Having seen servants and guests be made the victims of various pranks, they were already fully aware of their son's mischievous tendencies, even though he, as already stated, was rarely caught. They knew their son, but much like the villagers they decided to give it time, hoping that change would come with age.

They all got their wish. Though probably not in the way most of them had hoped. As Octavien embarked on his adolescent years, he had joined forces with another young man, who unlike Octavien had rarely cared to cover up his crimes. Not when it was so much fun to see just how much he could get away with, simply because he was a noble. After all, why cover up one's crimes when there were others to do it for you? Consequently, Octavien had decided to test the limits as well, and along with a few other boys, he and his new friend - a certain César de la Valliére - had become the 'brat pack' of their day, over time moving on from simple pranks that targeted some poor unsuspecting sap, to adventures that offered thrills on a more profound and personal level.

Still, despite his unruly behaviour at times, people found it impossible not to like the fair-haired youth. He had an amiable way about him, rarely without a genuine smile to offer, and had always been a witty and sophisticated conversationalist. He was never condescending towards those less fortunate, and had on a number of occasions actually apologized to those that he thought might not have deserved being on the recieving end of the trouble he had caused. Add to that the handsome, sensitive features that so appealed to the ladies, and his talent for riding and playing the harpsichord, and you had the perfect reciepe for a winsome young man indeed.

Yes. There were many things one could say about Octavien, long before he came to court at the Palace of Light and Air. And now, a few months after his arrival, there were even more.
Thing was, the majority of it was only known by two people, and even of those two, there was only one that knew it all. And soon, she would be gone, leaving only the other, whose nose Octavien was determined would stay out of his business. Granted, he wanted a confidant, and who better to confide in than someone who already knew part of what would be so difficult to tell anyone?
But, it would be a cold day in Hell before he confided in that... that...

"I am alone".

The firm voice of Joséphine sliced through his thoughts, preventing him from labelling Mercy Flight something rather far from flattering, and instead brought him back to the here and now. He had always had a way with words, and if given the chance, would've surely come up with a far more colorful description of the Baroness than 'court gossip'. It was yet another thing that could be said about him; he was a man that knew how to express himself.

Though right now, meeting Joséphine's somewhat defiant gaze, he felt like nothing of the sort. One look at her pretty face - the slight, almost-there frown, and the rose colored lips pursed together in discontentment - told him he had been careless when asking if she was alone. He hadn't meant to offend her by insinuating that she shouldn't be riding alone. She was an able horsewoman, and even though most would consider it improper for her to go riding without her husband or a chaperon, Octavien was not one of them. Not when the woman in question was seated properly in a sidesaddle, and carried herself with dignity, instead of straddling the animal like a man and having her skirts ride up way over her ankles.

"After we parted, César took Adèle and Angélique on a stroll through the Palace", she said, and left a few moments of silence to say what she hadn't, before continuing; "As for myself, I wanted an escape from the stifling atmosphere of the court. It would appear I am not the only one."

So. She had indeed been seeking solitude then. Meaning, the reluctance in her eyes when she had first come across him, had not been something entirely personal.
But, she had only been here for two days so far. Most other women would still be happily wandering about in the Palace, to get acquainted with the halls and hallways, not to mention the other courtiers. The thought of leaving it all to go riding, and alone too, would never even cross their minds.
Granted, Joséphine was not by far like most women, but Octavien had seen the look on her face as he guided her and her little family to their suites the other night. She had been excited then. There had been no mistaking it.
So why not anymore? Surely the novelty of it all hadn't worn off already? Was it the funeral, and the gloom currently roaming the hallways, spreading into every little nook and cranny? The sea of black clothes and sad faces, tainting every thought that passed through your mind with sorrow?

He didn't bother asking. If it truly was her reason for wanting to get away from it all, a question would be redundant, and if it wasn't... Well... Then a question might make things far more awkward than they were already.
Thus, instead of asking, or even saying anything at all, he merely nodded once to confirm that he shared her reasons for wanting to get away. Although a very simple gesture, it seemed to be enough to encourage her, and she set her horse into motion, to join Octavien on the wide dirt path. At that, the young Prince merely gave a somewhat meek smile to welcome her. It was the only thing he could muster at the moment.

"Have you found what you were looking for, Octavien?" she asked softly as she joined up next to him, and they started along the winding path together, side by side. "Or has what you were running from found you?"

Rarely one to shy away from making eye contact, this was one instant when Octavien was actually grateful that he had a valid reason not to. Facing forward, with his eyes roaming a bend up ahead, he could avoid looking at her and risk having his eyes reveal something which he was not ready for others to know, without it being obvious. He may have learned how to hide his true feelings behind a placid mask, but he didn't feel quite like his usual self today, and thus didn't trust himself to try.
Therefore, when he finally turned his head to look as her, it was only once he felt that whatever feelings had initially stirred within him at her question, they had now ebbed away from his features.

Though to be perfectly honest, he still didn't know how to answer her. He had indeed caught her subtle hint, regarding what had been troubling them both for sometime, but wasn't really sure it would make for a safer conversation than the other option, and vice versa.
Yet he still yearned to confide in someone, and even though César would've been the most logical choice, he had been so busy trying to cheer up Octavien when they had spoken, that it had left little room for whatever serious matters Octavien might've wanted to get off his chest. César meant well, but sometimes he was simply too focused on enjoying life, to sort out what needed sorting, if it was not to possibly come back and haunt you at a later time.
Or maybe it was just the fact that since coming here, Octavien had grown a bit more serious. He didn't recall ever dwelling much on troubles back home.

Now Joséphine, on the other hand, had always had a deeper sense of things, and her and Octavien did already share one secret... But it was a mutual one, one that it was in the best interest of both of them to protect, and mention to no one. How would she handle secrets she herself was not a part of? Would she handle them at all?
No, he couldn't share his troubles with her. He couldn't share them with anyone he didn't trust completely. And he didn't know Joséphine well enough to do so,

"In finding what we want", he said finally, "we are often made to realize that it only comes with a price, which no amount of running will leave behind for very long."

While he spoke, he turned back to face forward again, but then shot her a glance. And another. Then, with a heavy sigh he finally made his decision, choosing the path that under the circumstances appeared to be the less dangerous one, though not necessarily the most pleasant one. But, in order to get to point B, you had to first get to point A.

"Joséphine", he started, his voice sounding frustrated, impatient almost, as though he could no longer avoid the subject even though he wanted to.

And yet he got no further than that, but instead fell silent, simply because he found no words to continue. At least not until he decided that if they were to talk about it, he might just as well bring up the most pressing matter first, and one of the two things most likely to infect and destroy any further friendship between them.

"Do you intend to tell him?"




(((ooc: Ghanima - 'Do you intend to tell him' as in does she want to, not 'get off your butt and tell him already'. Know what I mean? :D
Also, sorry if it's messy. It's 5 AM, and I'm dead tired, but I didn't dare stop writing, considering I struggled like hell with the previous Octavien post, and this one came fairly easy. Was afraid that if I went to bed, the flow would be gone when I woke up.
Okay... Shutting up now. )))

Dimitri, César & arguments-- I mean, little girls.
 

"I suppose you are right, Duc d'Lorraine. Childish joy can be rather annoying. It is most fortunate then, that you are here to put an end to such foolishness."

Dimitri knew keenly he was at that age where he could reprimand parent and child alike, and neither would feel more above his rebukes than the other. Forty-eight was a peculiarly all-encompassing age. If he had been, oh, thirty-five or so… then it would have been clear that his words were directed at the child. The parent would have been free to act as a parent, to feel as one, with all the authority that status lent them.

But at this age—well! Who could say who the target was, when both were children compared to him in any case?

He could not tell whether the venom in the Marquis’ voice (with a pinch of sulkiness, in his opinion, quite nostalgic in a way) was due to Dimitri stepping into his paternal territory, or the result of being made to feel like a scolded child himself.

In any case, he thought merrily, grey eyes on the giggling girl; the daughter was taking it remarkably better.

Really, it was wicked of him, but he could not help enjoying it. He spared the young man a glance, calculatingly long enough to mean something yet short enough to be, maybe, dismissive? Disapproving? His face was entirely serious. “My opinion, if you’ll have it, Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, is that it is the duty of parents to end their foolishness. Preferably before they step into polite society.”

But it was the child’s duty to protect their precious foolishness as long as their small fingers had strength.

Everything was a struggle, in the end.

But, well, no reason to let the Marquis know that. It was far more amusing to poke at another’s parental instincts, to rile up all that pride and protectiveness just dying to gush out at a moment’s notice. After all, children grew up in the blink of an eye, and parents became irrelevant then. Best to exercise one’s protective muscle while they still needed it.

And it seemed the Marquis would need it again, for the tiny girl’s giggles subsided, and her inquisitive eyes suddenly noticed the Very Shiny Medals decorating his scarlet coat…

______

((Fancy that, the first time César's claws come out, it's for his little girls.

Hope you don't mind I used Adele a wee bit, Atropa. Papa!César amuses me and Dimitri greatly. :angel: ))

"I suppose it is true, boys without fathers i hear can grow up a little wild, though with a mother of such good reputation I doubt your son shall have any problems." The Baroness gave a gentle smile, she was developing a softer style when dealing with other people which many seemed to act more favourably to. "However I know some women with some various tallents that any man would be proud of."

"Times are hard, it is a good job that the Marquis he is so fond of has come to court to entertain our dear Prince, everyone can do with a sympathetic ear now and then." Mercy paused to reflect on the hardships the young Prince would be going through, the loss of Isabella to her family home. She looked down at floor, she had been a little rough she decided.

She looked back at the Comtesse, "if you are sending a letter outside of the Palace be careful with whom your entrust it there is a Doorman called Joseph who is good with most tasks and highly reliable, otherwise unless you give it to your personal staff there is no way you can be sure it will arrive, in the correct place. And mother's do have some starnge notions when naming their children, I have never found Mercy particularly fitting, and I named my own child Viola which was quite a mistake I shall admit." Mercy's mother had enjoyed naming her family; Arthur, Mercy, Charmaine and Juliet. Mercy had always felt she had gotten a raw deal, what a name to be landed with really...

((Hello people, I have come back to considering our scandals database, so any scandals which you know Shenan had on it can you please PM me? I would be ever so grateful ))

Marie-Elisabeth and Mercy
 

“Why thank you Baroness” she said, smiling and looking over at her “Charles can be quite the handful, as all little boys most certainly can, but I’d never trade my little chou d’amour for anything else in the world”.

Marie-Elisabeth tried very hard not to laugh, knowing it would seem rude, thinking about some of the things Charles had gotten up to. But he was one of those children that was just so genuinely sweet and loveable you couldn’t help but forgive him for his mischief. Not to long before she had come to court he had accidentally broken a vase containing some flowers. Unbeknownst to her, he had spent the next few hours in the garden gathering a whole bunch of flowers for a bouquet, and had given them to her with such an adorable smile on his face she couldn’t be angry with him anymore.

“There was never any question about his name though” she said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes “It was always going to be right after his father. I don’t know what it is with men and wanting to confuse their poor sons by giving them the same name. Thankfully my father didn’t believe in that. We had enough trouble with my sisters and my names, never mind giving identical ones to my brothers”.

She smiled as she remembered her father, Francis. She had only been ten years old when he died, but everyone had admitted she was his favourite daughter. He had doted on her to a ridiculous degree. It was probably because she was the youngest and, again in most people’s opinions, prettiest of her many sisters.

“You’re certainly right about having someone to talk to though” she said, finding it hard to keep that mischievous look from making its’ way onto her face again, but she managed somehow. “The Marquis seemed like a most entertaining man when I met him yesterday, I’m sure it will do the Prince a world of good to have an old friend around in times like this”.

She then looked gratefully at Mercy, glad for the advice. “And thank you very much for the tip about letters Baroness” she said, looking down the hall to her room “I’ll certainly keep that in mind when I write to my sister soon. I don’t want to think about how upset she’d get with me if a letter got lost”.

César, Dimitri & César's little angels
 

(((ooc: Seiza - No no, I don't mind at all. Feel free to use her and Angelique.)))


There was something about the Duc d'Lorraine, that infused César with the feeling that even with background, career and reputation aside, there was alot more to him than would meet the eye. Now, while that was of course usually the case with most everyone, it was also usually more or less so. In the Duc's case, César had a feeling it was more. Way more. There were currents stirring underneath the Duc's stern exterior, of thoughts and feelings of what was going on around him, but they remained so faint and elusive it was impossible to pinpoint what they were. And even though he might often be considered by others to be a wreckless young man, César was no fool. His eyes and mind were sharp, and he would often recognize when things were not what they appeared to be, even if he might not always be able to determine what they really were.

"My opinion, if you’ll have it, Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan," the Duc said, this time - lo and behold! - even gracing César with a glance, "is that it is the duty of parents to end their foolishness. Preferably before they step into polite society."

However, while the unfavorable look in his eyes as they had met briefly with César's, along with the continuous gravity and edge in his voice, suggested that he did not appreciate César's sarcasm, both failed to avert the slight quiver in the corner of the young man's mouth, which then forced itself all the way onto his lips in the form of a faint smirk, struggling against the restraints of the will-power that held it back.

Imagine that. In a battle where his authority and distinguished age outweighed César's youth and currently somewhat inferior position with quite the margin, the Duc had just handed the young Marquis a sword. To critize the behaviour of another, while flaunting faults of one's own? Tsk tsk tsk.

"If that is indeed the case, Duc d'Lorraine", César retorted, "I believe you are in the wrong place, for it appears your parents' work is not yet done."

With that, his own gaze abandoned Dimitri, and landed on the nearest daughter instead as he bent down to pick up her up. Gratefully Angélique wrapped her chubby little arms around his neck, and once he had straightened his back and her face was almost levelled with Dimitri's, she shot the older man a dark, reserved look, a warning glare, like a little lion cub preparing to defend her father from evil.

"One must be truly jaded", César added, and paused only momentarily to swiftly intercept Adèle as she begun reaching for the many adornments on Dimitri's suit, by making it seem as though he merely wished to take her by the hand; "... to resent the blessings of youth and innocence so, and wish to stifle them with rigid conventions and conformity."

Octavien & Joséphine - the forest
 

Octavien was starting to feel much like an elephant, as far as attempting not to offend Joséphine was concerned. Manuevering himself in the conversation with a lack of grace that was not of this world, in comparison to his usual silver tongue, he had opened his mouth but twice, and yet somehow managed to express himself with the sensitivity of a brick wall both of those times. Or so he felt, when he stood witness to how an army of feelings spilt forth on Joséphine's endearing face, taking the stage on her features, one after another until it was impossible to tell them apart, or even what they were.

He scolded himself then, for forcing her into being the one to brave the big unknown first. Yes, it was he that had asked the question, and yes, she could have saved herself the distress by answering it with a simple 'no', thus avoiding opening up like she had. But had he not known she would not be that evasive? Had he not known from the look on her face every time they had met since the incident, that she felt guilty, and thus was likely to feel that she owed him answers to the questions he might have? After all, the first move back then had been hers. Had it not...? Or was it he that had instigated it? Had he seen the state she was in, and offered comfort the only way he'd known how; as a man? Even if he hadn't intended to make her see him that way, or for himself to see her like a woman and not 'just' the fair and quick-witted wife of César, he simply did not have a history of being close to women in a way that was not in slightest amorous. With no sisters, and a mother that hardly needed someone to console her, what experience did he have at offering a woman the safe arms of nothing more than a friend?
The answer was; none.

Not that it really mattered. Regardless of wether it was he or she that had instigated it, it did not excuse what either of them had done. Not her, and certainly not him. She had had a reason for what had happened, for seeking affection, or plain comfort. Him, on the other hand, should have known better. Much, much better. But in that instant, her vulnerability had been more intoxicating to him than any wine that had ever touched the tip of his tongue, as had the passion that he knew lurked within her.
And maybe, just maybe, he too had harbored some ill-will towards César, for driving her so far.

"I have thought about it", she said finally, following a silence during which the array of feelings to claim her expression had been banished, leaving only one, of grim resolution. "More times than I could count, but something has always held me back. Not only fear and shame, those I could have overcome had there been any genuine hope in my heart that telling César the truth would do any good."

She made a good point. Knowing César, his reaction if told might not be all too pleasant, and there was no telling how much damage it could do. To him, to Joséphine, to Octavien, and to the friendship the three of them shared. Perhaps it was better for everyone involved for Octavien and Joséphine to suffer the burden of their mutual secret, and risk only their own friendship, rather than the relationship each of them had with César.

"It was a mistake, a one time mistake which hasn't been repeated", she added, her voice marred by reluctance and the effort it took her to say the words, to speak of what had happened, after months of making sure not to.

But they had to talk about it. Did she not see that? They had to resolve this. Now. For while until two days ago, distance had not only kept them from having to face one another on a near daily basis, but also allowed the memories to be stored away in some dark nook deep within their minds, now they no longer had that luxury. And the more the incident was left to fester, the more difficult it would be to keep it from César that something was not as it should be.

The sooner they spoke of it, the better. And if Octavien had been unfair by coaxing Joséphine - unintentionally or not - to speak first, he could only hope that she would forgive him. He had not meant to add to her torment.

"I wish I could have spared you all of this annoyance, Octavien", she continued after another few moments of silence, and this time the strain was gone from her voice, leaving only melancholic resignation. "We cannot change the past however, perhaps it is more useful for us both to focus our efforts on the present and the future."

She did blame herself. Judging by what she had just said, she labelled herself responsible for something that in Octavien's mind was not really her fault.
It would have been so easy though, to just go along with it, and pretend that even though they had both participated, it was only because she lured him to her, using her female charms, devastatingly captivating smile and whatnot, until he convinced himself that he was in fact innocent.
But despite all his flaws and imperfections, Octavien had rarely been prone to delusions, nor did he have it in him to make a friend suffer for a mutual mistake alone. He couldn't, and he wouldn't.
And had his mind not been made up already, the heavy sigh that caused Joséphine's slender shoulders to slouch was enough to guilt any sinner into wanting to confess his crimes.

"You are part of this too however," she added lastly, "and César's friend; your feelings might differ from mine. Do you believe it would be in anyone's best interest for him to find out?"

It was a question that Octavien himself had pondered alot over the course of the last few months, though perhaps less and less lately, as there had been other concerns taking up what time he'd had to ponder.
If he was to be perfectly honest with himself, and Joséphine, he really did think it could do César some good to learn that his wife had willingly tasted another man on her lips. Not because Octavien wanted to see him hurt or angry, but because César needed to realize that Joséphine - the spouse he held so dear, despite what his affairs might lead one to think - was not perfectly happy, and that he himself was the cause of it. Quite frankly, Octavien thought his friend needed to be taught a lesson, and learn to not only appreciate what he had - which he already did - but to act accordingly, which he also did already. But the latter he only did to a certain extent, when he should be doing it without any exceptions.

Perhaps it was a bit hypocritical of him, to judge César, when he himself had had various affairs with married women. But he couldn't help it. He knew César, and he knew Joséphine. They were both friends of his, and he knew the love and the passion between them was still strong. And from what he had gathered of César's smiles and innuendo's, Joséphine was his perfect match in bed. He should have no need for other women.
So yes, it wold probably do César, and in the long-run Joséphine too, a world of good if he found out what had happened.
There was only one problem...

"I am indeed a part of it, and as much to blame for it as you are, if not more", he said, having decided to address the issue of guilt first, in the hopes that it would ease her distress to know that he did not fault her. With that done, he continued; "And, had it been anyone but me, then... Yes, I believe it would be."

Having only offered here an odd glance here and there for the past couple of minutes, he now turned his head, finally seeking to actually make proper eye contact, perhaps for the first time since they had touched the subject.

"I am not blind, Joséphine", he said. "And clearly, neither are you. I am aware of why it happened, and for what it's worth, I don't condone what he is doing. I never have. Which is why I think you would both benefit from him finding out. Frankly, I think he needs to realize that he is not the only one available to you. That if you wanted to, you could have your choice of men."

There it was his turn to pause, and to give a deep sigh that in itself spoke of how despite what he had just said, there was still something that made it all impossible.

"But I don't think he could handle knowing it was me", he said and then sighed again. "I fear he would end up resenting you and me both, and nothing good would come of that."

Perhaps it wasn't the most eloquent thing to ever come out of his mouth, but at least it was honest, and open-hearted. And, he hoped as he went over it in his mind, not containing something that would hurt or offend Joséphine, or make her feel bad in any other way. She didn't need it, and she didn't deserve it.

Dimitri, César & girlies
 

“If that is indeed the case, Duc d'Lorraine,” César retorted, apparently quite prepared and willing to assert himself, as all young men insisted on doing before their ladies. Daughters included. “I believe you are in the wrong place, for it appears your parents' work is not yet done.”

Dimitri had to admit—he did not expect that.

There were many ways men used to attack him, primarily using a myriad of adjectives in their arsenals straddling the less-than-flattering and subtly-polite-reprisals. Some have even had the audacity to say them to his face, which always left the Duc in the conflicted position of admiring their nerve and being... well, insulted. Having heard more than his fair share—both personally and along the grapevine—Dimitri could confidently spar with the worst of them.

But never had he, ever, been accused of being raised badly.

He was stunned enough by the reference to his own parents that the Marquis even managed another stab.

“One must be truly jaded,”—he grabbed the hand of the young girl, and with the other firmly in his arm, they completed his parental ensemble. Dimitri thought parents sometimes wore their children as soldiers held shields. “...to resent the blessings of youth and innocence so, and wish to stifle them with rigid conventions and conformity.”

The Duc chuckled, not unkindly, but in that aggravatingly overly-kind manner that could be even worse. “Take it from a father who knows, Marquis: you will wish for all the conventions in the world, when your daughters reach the age differentiating a kiss from their pater and a kiss from a boy.”

The girl between them looked up plaintively at her father, completely unaware of the verbal sparring occurring over her head. Dimitri bent to speak to her.

“I apologise, young one, but I can’t leave these medals to you.” Like a crafty old experienced grandfather, he continued, “But if I see you again, I shall make sure I have a present for you and your sister.”