Isabella & Mercy - Isabella's Salon
 

((OOC: Seiza, the changing of seasons is something I’ve been thinking about lately as well. Probably because I’m still buried under seemingly unending ice. I want spring worse than Isabella does!! I don’t like time jumps because this RP is so twisted and complex. We can’t just pretend stuff happened for a whole month. I mean, that could encompass a lot of stuff we’d skip. So yeah, it’s going to be very much like the Sim2 game. I expect the seasons to stay similar to what the northern hemisphere of our world experiences. Given we go about two RP days a month, the season’s in the RP are short. Same with things like healing and pregnancies, and such. Think of each RP day as two real life weeks. So when a courtier has been a Duc for four RP days… that’s two real life months. That’s when they’re eligible for the advisor position. I know it’s all kind of confusing. It’s a parallel universe time warp thing. Only we’re not sci-fi… we’re historical. lol Hope I didn’t confuse anyone. I’ll be sure to instigate the changing of weather when the time is right.
Atropa, warn Octavien for me please. Thanks to Dimitri, she now wants to search for a birthmark or something. The Duc may not have business looking in those places, but Isabella is confidant she can get away with it! ))

“Assault was not the right word, I spoke in jest.” Mercy elaborated a bit on what had happened between Duc d’Lorraine’s carriage and herself. Isabella had never thought Dimitri intended to run a woman over, but it was nice to hear the particulars. During their time Isabella had found herself relaxing a bit. This morning’s tour with the Duc had implemented each and every one of her senses. She was constantly watching, analyzing and discerning every little movement, every pitch of his voice. Now that she sat with Mercy, someone whom Isabella felt she did not need to judge the intentions of, she had been able to relax a little.

Having felt she was in a safe environment, Baroness Flight’s next words caused her ears to perk up. “As for my supposed wisdom, if there is one thing I should teach you it is the one thing I failed to teach my daughter. If it makes you happy… take the risk. There will always be someone watching out for your best interests.” If Isabella had been on her guard, she would have showed no sign of the words intriguing her. However, she was not, hence the peculiar look that took its place upon her face. Her brows crunched in the middle ever so slightly, her eyes narrowed just a tad. As if she were trying to comprehend what Mercy had just said.

“If it makes you happy… take the risk.” Was she speaking from the generalization of what could only be assumed about being in her position? Granted it didn’t take much imagination to discern the position of queen was filled with choices, some which were safe, and some which were not. Some that provided happiness and others that took away freedoms. However, the last part of Mercy's statement hit her even harder. “There will always be someone watching out for your best interests.” Was she stating clearly that she had the Queen’s back? Given her position among the courtiers, she was privy to information that Isabella was not. No one would dare speak ill of the Queen in her presence. Yet they would not be so inclined to hold their tongue in the presence of a Baroness, quite possibly a woman with rank inferior to their own.

Isabella’s mind lingered on that possibility. Was she wrong about there being no reason to fear for her life? Had the people who sparked Duc d’Cognac’s curiosity really have her in their sights as well? The whole stream of thoughts unsettled her so.

Isabella smiled slightly, most noticeably not a smile that was intuitive to her. “I do appreciate the few true friendships, such as ours, that I am privileged to have.”, she spoke slowly. Isabella wanted to ask. But did she dare? Would she be so bold as to admit that she was unaware of any such dissention in the ranks? “I do hope it is understood that your presence is always most welcomed here in my Salon. If a matter of urgency was to present itself, you've no need to wait for the lunch hour to present it.”

Isabella had taken the middle road. If there was something Mercy felt needed Isabella’s attention, she had been given the perfect opportunity to state it. If not, she could simply acknowledge the invitation and move on with other matters. Though she had wiped the most unnatural look from her face, her heart waited to be settled.

Mercy knew the Queen sensed something and the natural way to quell the fears the woman must be hiding would be to instantly thank her for the invitation, or to laugh, to say something that made what she had just said to the young woman a mere statement of friendship.

Mercy however was not fast enough today she allowed her mouth to fall slightly open, then she gulped and blinked. The Queen had stated she saw her as a true friend and granted a tremendous honour, increased access. She now wanted to know why Mercy had made her comment, dare Mercy tell her why she felt she needed protection?

"Your magesty is too kind, however the gesture is most appreciated. I do wish to suggest that you may wish to be even more careful moving about in the morning it seems rather improper for servants to see you roaming the halls in the wee hours. In deed even the odd courtier has seen you walking past the long windows of the Royal floor corridor." She bit her lip gently and ran her fingers over the base of her water goblet, as she had a habit of doing, how would the Queen respond?

((Sorry I have a grandfather distarcting me, can't wait for him to return back to your neck of the woods Shenan!))

Isabella & Mercy - Isabella's Salon
 

((OOC: Aww... enjoy your grandpa!))

Isabella’s face had no sooner resumed its beautiful poise before it was shattered by wide eyes. Both at the nature of, and the abruptness of Mercy’s words. She found them extremely hard to swallow indeed. She had been most certainly careful moving about in the morning. Giles and Margret had done their jobs superbly well with making sure the coast was clear before escorting her from the Prince’s room to her own. The whole thing puzzled her so, and brought about a tinge of infuriation. Still, did this mean that the Baroness knew where Isabella had been spending her nights? Was someone hiding behind some statue, spying on her? Or was her guilty conscience getting the better of her. Mercy had made no mention of the Prince’s quarters, she could very well have been moving about in the wee morning after having spent the night in the King’s quarters. But if that were the case, why would the Baroness feel the need to assure Isabella she was looking out for her. The whole thing bewildered the young queen, but one thing she knew, was that this was not the proper time to figure it out.

“Hmm…” she began before taking a quick sip from her glass. “It appears some may have too much time on their hands.” Indeed if someone was spying on her, they certainly should have work that needed to be done. The whole thing unnerved her. “I thank you for your honesty.” She said, adding No matter how blunt. in her mind only.

“How about you,” she wished to move the conversation on, “is there any item you find yourself in need of?”

((OOC: Isabella has no other topics to bring up. Mercy's pretty much rendered her speachless. If Mercy has something to say, she's free to. If not you can wrap up their lunch. Or they can sit there silently since Mercy is waiting on Dimitri to "collect" her, if I recall correctly. ))

((Shenan he is driving me and my poor mother and his ex-wife (my grandmother) and the daughter-in-law who has just given birth completely crazy!!! Ah well what are family for?))

Mercy knew she had shocked the Queen and that she would most likely bring this to the attention of Octavien. And any item? she did hope the Queen was not suggesting.... no, that would make next to no sense. "Well i take no joy in hearing daft circulating about good people. And do not worry I have firmly come down upon the source of these particular comments. Afterall it is your castle and your court and servants have no right to complain about your nighttime attire." She smiled, Mercy had decided to gloss it over, say that she had heard about nothing more than clothing, but still causing the Queen reason to take more care, after all if Mercy could find out others could. Hopefully the queen weould be more warey but not worry about Mercy herself or feel the need to bring Mercy's name up with the Young Prince... that could be awkward.

"As for myself, i seek at this moment nothing more than the ear of the man who is to repair my dress." Mercy nodded matter-of-factly and raised bowing low as she backed out of the door. she would wait here for Dimitri, she did not imagine he would be absent for much longer. Duc c'lorraine my my she thought.

((Naturally no one can find out unless told in a RP by Shenan, Atropa or I. And Seiza, I know I polished of lunch a little earlier than you, but when you are finished let us just pretend you did not make her wait very long I am perfectly content to read the wonder posts you and Atropa come up with but Mercy wouldn't be too happy.))

Dimitri & Octavien - still lunching~
 

((lol! That's Isabella for you, charting new territories! And I think the seasons idea will work fine.

Fayre, aww, thank Mercy for her patience! I'll try not to drag out the boys' lunch too long. Fancy the women finish their yapping faster than the men, though!

Glad to see Silvius back, stylequeen! Now is there gonna be a brotherly reunion with the new Duc? ))
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Dimitri had not meant to bring up Adalita, and silently cursed himself—he was getting soft. Such a slip would have been unheard off before.

But it turned out to be a salvageable slip. He watched the Prince’s smooth brow crinkle in concern; he wondered, suddenly, if Octavien was one of the four who knew of the poison.

At the moment, it was mere curiosity, not worth the act of prying such delicate information out of anyone. Octavien’s words seemed to indicate he did not know, but he could be pretending, just as the Duc was now. Either way, it was a good opportunity to listen to the younger man simply talk. One could tease out quite a lot of information from words alone.

“As for myself...” The Prince spoke carefully. Young, but not brash; an odd combination, but not impossible. Dimitri had known many young men who could reign themselves in for an important meeting or two. Yet his words were delivered with deliberate thought, already understanding that royalty could not afford to speak freely with strangers, even if that stranger was a friend of your father-in-law. Dimitri once again yearned to know the name of the family who had bred such a boy.

“...Though feel free to correct me if you think I am wrong? I simply fail to see what good could come from executing a man consumed by petty jealousy, when our beloved Princess is fighting for her life. I feel our thoughts should be with her.”

‘Petty jealousy’? An interesting motive. The word choice piqued the Duc’s curiosity immediately, but the subject of Adalita’s illness took so much precedence to him that the curiosity was automatically filed away. A heaviness settled over Dimitri. He mentally shrugged it off, reached for his wine and settled into his ornate chair. He held the glistening ruby liquid, giving the Prince’s question much thought.

Octavien, apparently, was also very careful with his actions, even after an attempt against his life. Odd indeed.

“Your Highness is quite right. The kingdom does not need to fear for their Prince as well as their Princess. I was thinking more of an immediate execution, on the very day the scoundrel was captured. Certainly not a public march to the guillotine. But now I see I was not thinking at all.” Dimitri shook his head, solemn. He wanted to explain that he suspected the assassin of poisoning Adalita, and how every fibre of him wanted to throw the rat to the wolves already; but he could not do that until he knew the Prince knew.

“I ask you forgive an old man for not thinking straight. The Princess is very dear to me, I am afraid her illness has affected my judgment as well. ...I was here when she was born.” A soft smile spread across the craggy mountain that was his face. “I was here when she spoke her first word. I held her hands when she took her first step. Now I shall be here when she takes her last breath.”

Dimitri looked oddly into his wine, the scarlet reflecting an old memory in his eyes. He sipped it. Octavien’s words, if he spoke at all, seemed muffled in a thick whirr. The Duc was struck by a realisation—he had promised Edouard to pray for Adalita’s recovery, yet his heart already knew her to be gone.

Octavien & Dimitri - lunch in Octavien's suite
 

Another moment of silence settled between the two men, as Dimitri took his time to ponder Octavien's words, in the light of his own and many years of experience and thus wisdom. And the young Prince himself allowed him to do so, genuinly interested in hearing what the older man would have to say. For some strange reason, he felt the Duc's approval mattered greatly. Octavien, who before coming here really had never felt the need to get anyone's approval. Either he had it or he didn't, it was all the same to him.
The first person to change that, had been Isabella, the very Queen herself. But he had never been quite sure if it had been because she was the Queen, or if it was because he was so drawn to her. He had behaved fairly correctly, of course, but hadn't known if it was because he was expected to by her and everyone else, or by himself to get what he wanted. Lately, however, he had come to realize that when it got right down to it, there was no seperating the two. They had gone hand in hand from the very start, and had now grown into one.
It had all been made very clear to him with his own course of actions over the past few days; his reasons for marrying Adalita, and for eliminating the threat that Marquess Berini had posed.
Then there had also been the King, of course, but that was an approval he felt he needed, regardless of whether or not he wanted it. And it had hardly been on an even remotely personal level, as the King appeared to be so distanced from everyone that sometimes he would seem a stranger even to his own family. Though he did take the advice of his wife and his daughter, and so Octavien had been approved and accepted by default, as both women appeared to have taken a liking to him, be it evident through words or actions. Isabella had wanted him promoted, and Adalita had married him.

This Duc d'Lorraine, however, seemed to be a very different matter. He did not seem the type of man who accepted anyone based on the judgement of others, but rather one that would form his own opinion, and do so with the greatest of care. A man whose respect and approval actually meant something, in a court where alliances were broken and trusts were betrayed on mere whims. Unlike so many here, he was not a noble by name only, but heart and essence as well; something that Octavien understood, appreciated, and strived for himself. Though it would probably take alof of effort, as he did not only have his own manners to refine and polish, but the opinions of others to battle as well. Not a noble from birth, there would always be those that insisted that even though he was now Prince, he was not a real noble at all, and he never would be.
Whether or not the Duc was one of them, would remain to be seen.

"Your Highness is quite right", the older man said, finally breaking the silence. "The kingdom does not need to fear for their Prince as well as their Princess. I was thinking more of an immediate execution, on the very day the scoundrel was captured. Certainly not a public march to the guillotine. But now I see I was not thinking at all."

While he shook his head, seemingly at himself, Octavien gave a gentle bow of his neck, to show that he registered and appreciated the Duc's acknowledgement of his reasoning.

"I ask you forgive an old man for not thinking straight", the Duc then continued. "The Princess is very dear to me, I am afraid her illness has affected my judgment as well."

Hos voice trailed off, only for a mere moment, and as he continued once more, a gentle smile came onto his lips, as if brought there by memories, by joys of days gone by;

"I was here when she was born. I was here when she spoke her first word. I held her hands when she took her first step. Now I shall be here when she takes her last breath."

With his last words, the smile slowly faded, and his gaze lowered itself to the contents of his glass of wine. Such a grim thought it must be, to watch a young girl be born, and blossom, only to wither away and die long before she'd been expected to.
Unsure of what to say in order to not sound cold, and yet not bring any attention to the man's sudden sentimentality, when he was even more unsure of how the man would react, Octavien simply joined him in sipping the wine. Then, only when it seemed proper, did he open his mouth;

"I did not want to be rash with the Marquess", he said slowly, keeping his eyes on the glass as he leaned forward to place it back on the table infront of them, and then looked up at Dimitri as he leaned back in his chair. "It occured to me, with Adalita's condition, that there might have been more to the story than just his hatred of me. So I had him brought to the dungeons instead, for questioning, once I was strong enough to withstand another possible attack. This morning, after the King's announcement, I went down there to talk to him. It was a conversation that left me convinced that he bears no ill-will against the Princess. Only me, for acquiring what he desired. Two days ago, he made threats aimed at me, about taking from me what I now have, and the conversation we had only confirmed to me that was his only aim and motive."

With that, he turned his head slightly to give one of the servant girls a meaning but far from unpleasant look; a gentle command for her to be more observant of the level of the wine in the Duc's glass, and never risk making him have to ask for it to be refilled. Wide-eyed with horror at her mistake, the young girl hurried over to correct it, and Octavien turned back to Dimitri, finding the older man now looking at him once more, with thoughtful scrutiny in his eyes.

"You are an interesting man, Your Highness," he said slowly, a hint of a smile in his steel-grey eyes. "I do not know what I was expecting, but you have surpassed it profoundly. And with that admission, I must be shamefully honest with you: I do not recall the name of your father or mother, nor from which family you come from."

Ah. This would be it then; the moment of truth. The moment where the Duc found out about Octavien's background. Not that it was a bad one, or worth belittling in any way, for even though he had not been born a noble, he did descend from a highly esteemed and fairly well known family.
Still, even if Duc d'Lorraine turned out to be one of the blue-bloods that believed only in pure-bred nobility, it seemed Octavien had already managed to earn a bit of his liking, judging be his short but oh-so significant compliment about Octavien surpassing his expectations. Perhaps that would be enough for Octavien to earn his acceptance, even if his lineage was not.

"I am the second and youngest son of Jean-Philippe Lahance and Marguerite-Antoinette Lahance", he said, carefully watching for a possible spark of recognition in the Duc's eyes. "We own quite a few large and prominent stud farms, and are rather well known for our highly acclaimed breed of Lippizans. Why, the royal stables even have a few of our specimens."



(((ooc: As I'm unsure of how the whole marriage/surnames thing worked during this era, I ask for leniency on his mother's last name. )))

Dimitri & Octavien - lunch
 

"I am the second and youngest son of Jean-Philippe Lahance and Marguerite-Antoinette Lahance. We own quite a few large and prominent stud farms, and are rather well known for our highly acclaimed breed of Lippizans. Why, the royal stables even have a few of our specimens."

Perhaps it was only his imagination, but the Prince seemed to steel himself for some sort of reaction. An expectation hung in the air as he spoke, causing Dimitri to think thrice about his own reply. He was sensitive enough to guess, perhaps, that Octavien expected an unfavourable response to his untitled past. Perhaps even an outright dismissal, if anyone could actually be so politically naive to snub a prince, whatever his background.

But life outside the palace had taught the Duc something about rank and its weaknesses. Rank was nothing on the battlefield. Rank was nothing when you died. And so, in his mind, this was nothing to sniff at; his words came out largely unfiltered. “Ah, Monsieur Lahance...”

He recognised the name. He certainly knew the breeds Octavien spoke of. Putting them together lit such a spark of recognition, and the light was now so obvious, that he could only laugh. A hearty baritone echoed off the fine walls, deep and warm and mirthful.

“Damn it all, I do know him after all! My good brother, bless his soul in Heaven, was among his most ardent admirers. I swear, he would have brought Monsieur to rear our horses personally if your father didn’t already have farms and family tying him down! A fine man, indeed.” He raised his miraculously full glass towards Octavien. “And a fine son, he has.”

The Duc’s sisters once gossiped incessantly about the less fine things Monsieur Lahance’s boys got themselves in, in years long past—but he thought it tactless to broach that particular topic. Octavien had thus far been nothing but pleasant, and so Dimitri’s words and his toast were truthful.

As the men further traded horse-rearing tips, it was as if a pall had lifted from the room. The Prince seemed genuinely enthusiastic—well now, how could he not be, with such a skilled father?—and Dimitri was as much a fan of such fantastic creatures as any other blue or red-blooded man. The afternoon lunch had been generally sombre. The topic of horses and breeds provided a haven amidst the reality of illnesses and assassins.

But the Duc was the Duc, and like a well-trained secretary attuned to nature’s clock, his mind eventually reminded him of another appointment he had.

When they reached a safe juncture in their conversation, Dimitri lowered his head apologetically. “This has been a fine lunch, Your Highness. I only hope it has proven as... refreshing for you as it has been for me.” He had not forgotten the bitterness emanating as fire from Octavien when he first entered.

______

((Thought it might be a good time to wrap it up, since RP evening is nigh upon us. XD

But I left it there in case Octavien has anything else to add. If he doesn't, feel free to have Dimitri leave the suite.))

Dimitri and Mercy - meeting #2!
 

Dimitri left the Prince’s suite in unexpectedly raised, if subtly bemused, spirits. He had expected to meet a dry old man who had been foisted upon Adalita in the name of political matrimony, but had instead found a young man with an old soul. There was already a sort of fondness developing for him, reminiscent of when he first laid eyes on young Edouard—but where Edouard was someone Dimitri had been trained all his life to serve, Octavien was new, unknown, and so, still someone to be wary of.

The Duc did not stop at the hall windows, which overlooked the courtyard and pointed at the Princess’ suite. He would be seeing Baroness Venn soon. He did not want to meet the lady in a sombre mood.

He did not think it improper to simply collect the Baroness from her room. Rukov was not with him, but it made more sense to go directly than to send a servant to bring her to him. Yet when he reached the Grand Staircase, he saw her standing at the foot of it, enjoying some painting or other.

Dimitri was already three-fourths through chastising himself when he reached her level. His long strides descended two steps at a time, yet somehow he did so without the appearance of undignified running. He bowed low and humbly. “Forgive me, Baroness, if I have made you wait long. Matter of fact, I was just about to head to your room.”

_____

((If Mercy does not pounce on that terribly open line, I will die of horror. Oh, I wasn't sure where Mercy would actually be waiting, but I thought the staircase would be a decently safe level to place her. Just say the word and I'll change it.

Atropa: Much <3 for our first meeting! I kept imagining '++'s appearing over Dimitri and Octavien's heads when they were talking. ))

She was stood in the corridor wandering precisly what the punishment was for standing up Mercy Flight, when she heard fast footsteps. Someone was hurrying, a Royal servant perhaps, no the footsteps were to loud to be a sevrant, it was a courtier clattering about. Now which courtier could be rushing about? she turned as he descended the stairs. And there he was.

Mercy raised one eyebrow to the man in front of her, "actually my dear Dimitri-Josèphe I just got out of a long lunch myself." She smiled and paused "oh wait, how rude of me I should have said Duc d'Lorraine, shouldn't I." She folded her arms over her chest and raised eyebrows whilst saying this, giving herself a questioning pose one would never use with a duc. She held this pose whilst she counted to three in her head, she then gave a low bow and came up smiling once again.

It was winter and the days were still short, indeed it was already getting dark as Mercy looked out one of the long windows, it had been a long day already and now she was in the company of a man of whom she was particularly fond, dare she say that at such an early stage. Mercy moved her self so she could, much heeded by her Slate grey dress, lean against it. "I do hope your day has treated you well she said," she gave a small smile and inhaled slightly deeper than was strictly necessary causing her chest to gently raise before turning from Dimitri again to look down the corridor again, she sighed. What was she doing? He was a Duc! And a man whom she had not even given her full name.

Dimitri & Mercy
 

(( :laugh:

Post coming soon, I swear!

:laugh:

Ohoho, I just realised how close Dimitri got to almost standing up The Mercy Flight! The worst way to make an enemy of a woman. XDDD And it goes without saying, Fay, but you can move Dimitri wherever Mercy pleases. :D))

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“Actually my dear Dimitri-Josèphe I just got out of a long lunch myself.” Baroness Venn smiled, like a little minx. “oh wait, how rude of me I should have said Duc d'Lorraine, shouldn't I.”

Dimitri allowed one eyebrow to rise, too amused to be offended that a Baroness and a woman could find it in herself to speak to him that way. It was splendidly indignant of her—ah, but could he fault her for it? After all, he had hidden his title from her, and the very next day, Edouard openly announced his presence. He hadn’t mentioned that Dimitri was a very old friend, but nobles who moved long enough within court circles immediately recognised the lord of Lorraine, and they had swooped in attack not unlike vultures.

Was Baroness Venn such a vulture? It didn’t seem so—She had invited him to meet before the announcement was made. And she had not been among the throng trailing him from the Grand Salon this morning. But it seemed she would make him squirm for his white lie, anyway.

“If you so wish, you may,” Dimitri matched her smile with a grave, upward tilt of his lips. As she rose from her elaborate bow—the impishness of the woman!—he captured a hand to properly greet with a kiss. “Although I would prefer you to use the name with which I introduced myself.”

It was a concession he would grant only to the Baroness, that needn’t be said.

“I do hope your days has treated you well,” she began, leaning against the wall. Her grey dress fell down in elegant, subtle folds—the Duc thought it a most fitting piece for a woman to wear, so different from the garish ensembles paraded by the younger females in court. An elegant dress such as this could highlight a woman’s many... ah, strengths...

Dimtri firmly kept his eyes on her face.

“It has been an exhausting morning, a refreshing afternoon. It remains to be seen how it shall end.” Even as he spoke, her gaze dropped along the corridor. He took her sigh to mean she was exhausted herself. “Perhaps we can quietly amuse ourselves this evening in the Great Hall? You may tell me how well your day has been treating you then.”

((Hmmm impish minx huh?

Dimitri is such a gentleman fixing his eyes firmly on Mercy's face rather that her... strengths

This post is rather confusing but in order to layer the conversation properly you have my last post, Se my new one slipped in together here))

“Actually my dear Dimitri-Josèphe I just got out of a long lunch myself.” Baroness Venn smiled, like a little minx. “oh wait, how rude of me I should have said Duc d'Lorraine, shouldn't I.”

Dimitri allowed one eyebrow to rise, it was a nice return to her gentle teasing, finally a reasonable man in a place far to filled with rules.

“If you so wish, you may,” Dimitri matched her smile with a grave, upward tilt of his lips. As she rose from her elaborate bow—the impishness of the woman!—he captured a hand to properly greet with a kiss. “Although I would prefer you to use the name with which I introduced myself.”

It was a concession Mercy knew signalled something quite amazing, a Duc who was willing for her to disregard his title was not a common occurence.

“I do hope your day has treated you well,” she began, leaning against the wall. Dimtri firmly kept his eyes on her face.

“It has been an exhausting morning, a refreshing afternoon. It remains to be seen how it shall end.”

Could he be suggesting something? Could a man of Dimitri's stature really be making such a suggestion to her? No a Duc would not, well a Duc Peitou-Charentes perhaps, but any man with respect for females that rose above the Physical form of a woman, or atleast above the corset area of the physical form of a woman would not.

“Perhaps we can quietly amuse ourselves this evening in the Great Hall? You may tell me how well your day has been treating you then.”

"My day has been..." she paused "interesting... and perhaps tiring thus far, I look forward to a nice evening with a good companion." With that she gently took the arm of the gentleman, quite fortunately with him being that much taller than her the very fact she had taken his arm meant he had to walk quite close beside her. "The great hall is nice but I find it draughty this time of year, I feel this room will be of more use to us for the evening." Mercy pushed open the door to the Blue Salon she liked this particular room, the aura made her glow she felt.

She inhaled sharply anf turned to her gentleman companion placing one hand over her mouth she spoke "I have done you a grave injustice..." she paused for effect keeping her hand over her mouth. "You must of course call me Mercy." She winked and the turned and walked to a chair beside the fire, an impish smile on her face, she finally lower her hand as she sat down with her back to Dimitri.

Dimitri & Mercy - Blue Salon
 

(("Impish minx" being Dimitri-speak for "a good thing". ))
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“My day has been... interesting... and perhaps tiring thus far, I look forward to a nice evening with a good companion.”

Dimitri chuckled to himself. “Interesting” and “tiring” seemed the best ways to describe the days of two mature souls.

The Blue Salon was, to his dismay, quite full of courtiers at this hour. Apparently, many people shared Baroness Venn’s opinion as to the coldness of the Great Hall. They sat in small clusters of threes and fours, women surrounding tables of delicate tea sets, men in corners holding glasses of wine.

Dimitri scanned the room for an empty spot. His gaze must have held some physical weight of its own, for two courtiers immediately got up when they felt his eyes floating over them. The Baroness did not seem to notice their departure, turning to him instead. This time, her impish smile was covered demurely by one hand. “I have done you a grave injustice... You must of course call me Mercy.”

“Hardly an injustice, Baroness Mercy, merely measure for measure.” He tested the name with a chuckle. From where he sat, Mercy’s back was surrounded by the gentle firelight, her fair skin glowing against the rich crimson hues and deep blue walls. Dimitri suddenly felt it a shame that she was widowed. Then he cast the thought from his mind, gesturing for wine and any drink the Baroness wished.

“It seems we’ve both been busy today. Whatever tiring you is not something I could assist with, could it?” Dimitri waved slightly in the general direction of the courtyard. “I could not content myself with merely repairing your dress, having almost ridden right over you. My aid is henceforth extended, until you or God has judged me fully repented.”

((The refernce to advanced age.... at 44,in this time period, Mercy would probably be 2/3 if not 3/4 of the way through her life time.

And welcome Dimitri to Mercy's own little kingdom....))

“Hardly an injustice, Baroness Mercy, merely measure for measure.” He gave a chuckle. Mercy smiled, the room was filled with people, but Mercy did not care she liked the background noise. Impolite little climbers may try to latch on to her companion, due to his sought-after title, dashing good looks and the thing that made him incredably weak, the fact he was a male and that men were.... men, but Mercy knew her own powers within the court would keep almost everyone at bay unless they were sent for or sent specifically to collect the Duc or Baroness.

Mercy looked over her gentleman friend thoughtfully, yes he would be inundated by young women who wanted him. However a man such as he must have had that his whole life. So that clearly was not what he was seeking, just as well, whilst Mercy was not unattractive, at her advanced age things were quite happily still in the correct place, but they required a little assistance here and there.

Dimitri gestured for wine and any drink the Baroness wished. To which she insisted on white wine. People said red was better at this time of year but personally Mercy always found it too heavy and so white was her staple when she drank, which unlike her late mother was not to often. She was musing over whether it felt right to ask him about himself especially considering Mercy had been doing her research and had gleamed all the information she could find from this source or another. When he spoke.

“It seems we’ve both been busy today. Whatever is tiring you is not something I could assist with, could it?” Ever the gentleman it seemed, dimitri had an old fashioned charm about him than she admired, young men just did not understand. That being why when it came to the courtiers the only ones she felt close to were female, and even then there was the appropriate distance as social concience dictated.

“I could not content myself with merely repairing your dress, having almost ridden right over you. My aid is henceforth extended, until you or God has judged me fully repented.” Mercy smiled and clicked her fingers, in an instant a handsome young man had appeared from within the depths of the room with a silver tray. On it was a hand written card in a masculin hand bearing the name of a dress maker, and a rather prominant one at that. Mercy was happy that a wine glass had been placed on the table beside her, pressumably sped up also by the click as it gave her something to do. As the card was presented to the Duc she sipped the wine and raised her eyebrows gently.

After watching his response she replied. "Sadly no, my day has been filled with womens work. Oh before I forget, I do have a small gift for you, as a symbol of our... friendship." She reached under the chair upon which she sat and drew out then handed him a plaque, mounted upon which was an elegant blue shoe with a cracked heel. "So you don't go running down any other ladies in a hurry," she gave a gentle smile then looked down at her lap, she bit her lip. Whilst she had masdterminded this whole evening to this point she handed expected to feel quite so strange at this point, it was not a bad feeling but merely a strange one. "For if you did, I suppose I may feel like just another woman."

((Oh, they ARE close in age! Ah, they're just two old fogies resting their legs by fire, aren't they? :D

Sorry for the late reply, Fayre! Was working on a midterm essay and revising for a midterm exam in one day. :rip: ))

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He didn’t see the silver tray until it materialised beside him. Dimitri knew himself to be more aware of his surroundings, usually. Perhaps it was the sleepy ambience of the Blue Salon distracting him tonight.

The Duc held the card between two fingers, the glass of wine resting in his other hand. Mercy did not seem the least bit surprise, which, of course, if he knew anything about women, was immediately cause for suspicion. Grey eyes flicked up to her curiously, before he opened the card. He recognised the address, vaguely. It was the dressmaker many noble ladies commissioned from... well, Mercy’s dress had been a gift from a Duchess, and this tailor was among the best there was.

Dimitri spent some time studying the handwriting, longer than it was necessary to read such an address. The lines were angular and masculine; perhaps what intrigued him was that he had been expecting a woman’s feminine strokes. He didn’t quite know what to make of it; and so with a nod, sharp like a soldier’s salute, he merely pocketed the card in the folds of his black coat.

Mercy appeared to have been waiting for him. She replied, “Sadly no, my day has been filled with womens work. Oh before I forget, I do have a small gift for you, as a symbol of our... friendship.”

Another brow rose in surprise. “Baroness, I couldn’t—”

Ah, too late! She reached below the seat—the seat?—and pulled out... a shoe?

Dimitri accepted the plaque in both hands, a fair bit too surprised to continue objecting. He looked at the cracked heel as intensely as he had the card. It was a rather small shoe, a demure blue. Christ almighty, had the carriage broken her shoe too? He had more to make up for than he’d thought. He hadn’t expected her to continue, but that she did, and her voice sounded unexpectedly odd. “For if you did, I suppose I may feel like just another woman.”

“...Ah, you planned everything!” Dimitri exclaimed, before shaking his head. “I assure you, Baroness, my carriages do not run over just any women.” He held up the plaque, emphasising his point, “And to remind myself, this shall have place of honour on my mantelpiece. Every morning I’ll emerge from my chambers, and think, ‘Never shall I almost kill another woman such as Baroness Mercy Venn!’”

The Duc placed the gift on a small end table, before clucking his tongue, wry and mirthful. “But now you’ve put me in the unfortunate position of having no gift for you, my lady. Luckily, you may tell me now, as I’m quite poor at picking good gifts anyway.”

((Again confusing, as its the last two posts compressed down with my current one added. But it adds "a rich layered finish to the final result" Ok so that is actually a quote from Delia Smith about a sponge cake but I felt it applied well here too.

and Seiza it's not a problem, work before play! I wish I could get around to doing my work... but I have a three day weekend ahead to do it so im procrastinating.))

Dimitri spent some time studying the handwriting, longer than it was necessary to read such an address. Then with a nod, a sharp one at that he pocketed the card in the folds of his black coat.

Mercy hoped he hadn't read too much into it, she had had the servant write the address whilst she had been choosing chairs for the little escapade, she concidered it but he seemed too reasonable to find much in the script.

“Sadly no, my day has been filled with womens work. Oh before I forget, I do have a small gift for you, as a symbol of our... friendship.” Mercy smiled gently. He reacted in suprise but her speed at acting out a plan was more than even his brilliant mind did in reaction to such a statement throw in at an obscure time. “Baroness, I couldn’t—”

Mercy was happy as Dimitri accepted the plaque in both hands, his suprise was mildly comical - was that a mean thing to think? - He looked at the cracked heel as intensely as he had the card. It was then the strange feeling hit, “for if you did, I suppose I may feel like just another woman.”

“...Ah, you planned everything!” Dimitri exclaimed, before shaking his head. Mercy had a sickening feeling run through her chilling her, was her caniving side too much? Had she let go of too much of a womans needing to be cared for exterior? Oh why didn't he speak, his pause had only been brief thus far but it felt like eternity. “I assure you, Baroness, my carriages do not run over just any women.” He held up the plaque as if to emphasise his point, and she relaxed, warmth returned to her. The risk had paid off now she just had to wait to see how well...

“And to remind myself, this shall have place of honour on my mantelpiece. Every morning I’ll emerge from my chambers, and think, ‘Never shall I almost kill another woman such as Baroness Mercy Venn!’” Mercy smiled. "That sounds like a very reasonable statement to make, Venn... yes I think it time I finally alerted the whole of the court to my reverting to my maiden name." Her smile shrank slightly, but was in fact one of greater joy, her husband was gone and she would finally show that she was completely free of him.

The Duc placed the gift on a small end table, before clucking his tongue, wry and mirthful. “But now you’ve put me in the unfortunate position of having no gift for you, my lady. Luckily, you may tell me now, as I’m quite poor at picking good gifts anyway.”

"All you require is a good teacher if we are to improve that matter, from the way you dress you seem to have good taste and from the way you are respected you must be a good judge of character. So all you require is someone to teach you how to put the two together, now do i need to recommend someonecloser to your own estate or will you be around long enough for me to take that burden upon myself?" The word burden was used in jest but the question was very real, fortunately she had friends out towards the Duc's estate, so if needs must she could always track him back to his own tertitory. However she hoped she would not need to after all she had promised to keep an eye on the Queen...

((Fay: Long weekends are such a godsend. :D

Gah, Short Post of Suck! I've been travelling back home and am settling in for a week-long break, but I didn't want to leave Mercy hanging. >_<))

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“...So all you require is someone to teach you how to put the two together, now do i need to recommend someone closer to your own estate or will you be around long enough for me to take that burden upon myself?”

Dimitri’s lips curled into something of a crafty grin, noting how nimbly Mercy dodged his question. No matter, the dress was his first priority; he would take his time to consider a suitable gift. He emptied the last of his wine, waving away a servant rushing to refill it. The rosiness barely showed on this tanned cheeks, muted into a deep brown by the fire; but he could already feel the wine warming him.

“No, I won’t be returning to my estate in the foreseeable future. The King...” Surely he could not bring up the Princess here, not when the evening had so far been so pleasant.

“...The King wishes me here,” he ended simply. Dimitri closed his eyes briefly, visions of the snow-covered landscape filling his mind. “Perhaps one day, when the weather warms, you may carry your burden to the city, where we shall conduct your lesson. I haven’t visited it in very long, but friends tell me it’s as beautiful as when I left it.”

{{ooc: Logically speaking, yes, her reputation would be tarnished too. But I'm not all logical, so I couldn't tell ya. Perhaps she already thinks that her reputation is tarnished from something or the other, so therefore, she wouldn't care about her own reputation? Possibly the second bit, too, because she knows he's a promiscuous being and wouldn't care if she was just sex to him or not. Which makes her sound like a prostitute or appropriate slang word. But since I'm not sure if that's what she is to him, I dunno if that would be correct. If that makes any sense at all, I'm amazed. }}

((Seiza I think we should leave it there as morning will come very very soon! and i think that is a nice point to end our evening .

And Atropa i know, i know, but...... she is just sooo anime-ish and i can't even take pictures of her properly on this computer, let alone play her so I have no idea how she looks as a day-to-day sim.))