Hi there! You are currently browsing as a guest. Why not create an account? Then you get less ads, can thank creators, post feedback, keep a list of your favourites, and more!
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#401 Old 19th Apr 2008 at 2:47 PM
Default César w/daughters & Dimitri - hallways
There had been plenty of times over the years, when César's unpredictable temper and razor tongue had gotten him into trouble. Even as a child he had more often than not refused to submit to authority - be it that of his nanny, his parents, or anyone else that would attempt to make him do something that he did not want to do, or not do something he did want to do. It was a behaviour that had stuck with him as he grew older, and it was still part of his character as a grown man. Though by now his methods had long changed into something far more refined than defiantly crossing his little arms and stomping his foot in childlike determination. These days, it often showed itself as a bold unwillingness to submit to someone and their ideas simply because they held a title greater than his, or were otherwise supposed to be superior to him somehow. Though mind you, if the occasion really called for it, and he stood to loose something he valued more than speaking his mind, he would play the game of politics just as well as the next man.
It was just that there didn't happen to be that many things that he valued, and risked loosing, simply because the people he had encountered did not have the power to take away what he already had; his money, his title, his estates, and the most cherished thing of all; his family.

The Duc d'Lorraine might actually be the first real exception. César was very well aware of the man's ties to the King, and so perhaps it was best not to shoot his mouth off too much. For while he resented those that did not fight their own battles, but ran off to seek the aid of a powerful friend or ally, that was an opinion that would hardly make a difference, should the Duc happen to be such a man, and go running to the King and convince him that there was a certain Marquis that needed to be cut down to size.
César doubted such was the case, as the Duc had a reputation for being a man quite capable of holding his own in any disagreement. But still, one could never be too sure.

However, despite his frankness, situations similar to this one did not represent the full extent of the trouble he had gotten himself into over the years. There were other occasions, when his mouth and his temper had gotten him into arguments that only started out with words, but soon developed into actual fights. Though it was always for one of two reasons. Either he'd gotten just a little too much to drink, in which case there was no telling what might set him off. If something would set him off. He might just as well remain a jolly drunk.
Or - and this was something that was bound to set him off, drunk or not - someone had the audacity to make derisive remarks regarding his little but highly beloved family; daughters as well as Joséphine.
Joséphine didn't know it, but there had even been one time when he had challenged a man to a proper duell, for insinuating - for some unfathomable reason - that she had not entered their marital bed a 'pure' lady. Though the fight had not gone beyond that challenge, as the other man had chosen to back down - but it did leave everyone that had been present with the conviction to never insult the Marquis' family.

Luckily, this late afternoon in the Palace of Light and Air, neither drink nor derisive remarks targeting wife and daughters were present, leaving only César's slight problem with authority to color the conversation.

"Take it from a father who knows, Marquis", Duc d'Lorraine said with a chuckle filled with the wisdom older generations tended to claim they had, "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."

Then he bent down to position himself as close to face to face with Adèle as his height would allow, and continued, much in the same jovial tone of voice he had used when speaking to her earlier;

"I apologise, young one, but I can’t leave these medals to you. But if I see you again, I shall make sure I have a present for you and your sister."

That tone of voice, along with the chuckle given moments earlier, left it obvious that the Duc had not taken it all as seriously as he'd tried to have César think, with his stern words and stoney glances. Apparently, he enjoyed playing games.
Who would've thought?

"I advise you, Duc d'Lorraine", César said, with the smirk from earlier now released to form his lips into a soft curve, partly at the Duc's little display, but also with satisfaction at the simple and somewhat unimaginative reply the man had given him. "... to not mistake encouragement of toddler's joy, for lacking education of future young women. There is, I assure you, a difference."

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Advertisement
Field Researcher
#402 Old 19th Apr 2008 at 4:43 PM
Default Dimitri, César & little angels (who want preseeeeeents?)
The child’s eyes immediately brightened at the idea of a surprise gift—if her birthday was not around the corner, it only made the prospect of presents all the sweeter. If the children of this generation were anything like his—and really, judging by the Marquis’ sharp-edged pride, some things never changed over time—then the next thought would have been what sort of present he would get her. A doll? A music box? Perhaps she should blurt out what she wanted so he did not make the grievous mistake of getting her a ball or periscope or some other dreary boy-ish present...

The most interesting reaction came after.

He could not tell what dragged her from her daydreams—it may have been nothing so much as the rustle of her father’s coat. But the brightness muted, and caution took its rightful place. Her tiny feet, however slightly, brought her towards the Marquis. Just like her sister, she was sensing something amiss. But ah, how she wanted whatever-it-was...!

Children could be remarkably attuned to their parents. He remembered well the confusion it created in a mind too young to reason out such complexity, and he felt just a little bit guilty for bringing her to this point.

The Marquis, on the other hand, was quite a separate matter. Dimitri straightened himself to find the other’s smile had grown softer, and alas, less readable as a result.

“I advise you, Duc d'Lorraine, to not mistake encouragement of toddler's joy, for lacking education of future young women. There is, I assure you, a difference.”

Whatever amusement this encounter had generated—in a way, it had been a welcome respite from the more tedious conspiracies plaguing Edouard’s court—was slowly ebbing away, leaving only very many dusty memories in its wake.

Perhaps he was being rather pretentious, with all his so-called observations; but Dimitri thought the Marquis refused to recognise, like all parents, that toddlers today would not become girls tomorrow. Such was the paradox of the paterfamilias: to desire to live in the present with his children, yet to have to keep both eyes on their future. Unfortunately, the future had the terrible habit of announcing its presence by slamming its fist into your head when you least expected it.

And, in the end, one missed everything.

But it was not the sort of warning that could be given ahead of time, for it would only be laughed at by a younger generation steeped in its supposed wisdom. It was the sort of warning one could only live through and look back on regrettably.

“Discipline not enforced now only breeds into rebellion later. I am certain you know how that works,” Dimitri was not attempting to bait a response... but he was just a man, with a healthy dose of the same pride the Marquis seemed to have in abundance. Wryness inevitably slipped into his tone. “But you must excuse my scepticism. Perhaps you shall be the one to find the difference that has eluded so many fathers over the centuries.”

He shifted his gaze from daughter to daughter. “Now, as I have promised these little girls presents, would you be so kind as to introduce their names to me? I think it rather inappropriate to label them ‘Girl 1’ and ‘Girl 2’.”

________

((Just a note, just in case-- I'm reeeeally bad at timezones (ironically, since I'm studying them right now), so if we're approaching the end of Fay's 48-hour extension, feel free to wrap it up, Atropa. :D

And does anyone else find it ironic that MERCY, the COURT GOSSIP, is advising Marie-Elisabeth on people who snoop into letters? I'd be careful of that footman...))
#403 Old 20th Apr 2008 at 8:40 AM
(( :omg: Seiza what ARE you suggesting?

8-12 Hours until evening people

Slytherin girl any chance I can get a PM of your scandal?))
Alchemist
#404 Old 20th Apr 2008 at 1:23 PM
Joséphine and Octavien - riding in the Forest --> (Joséphine) returning to the Palace

One thing could be said about Octavien Lahance: that he was an understanding man, decidedly not conservative. This thought insinuated itself into Joséphine's mind despite the many worries clogging it, hearing Prince spoke his mind. That, and the fact that the kingdom could benefit from the leadership of such a man, whose views could lead it into an age of rebirth and prosperity. Ideally that was; in reality, Octavien's role had just become more uncertain than ever, in light of the Princess' death, and such was the way of intrigue: one did not know exactly on whose side everyone was until the end of the game.

"I am indeed a part of it, and as much to blame for it as you are, if not more", Octavien admitted, assuring Joséphine he considered himself an equal participant in the incident. That helped raise her spirits a little, the first opportunity of sharing the burden following months of nothing but self blame. She knew how men could be, and how they could maneuver themselves out of a difficult situation by playing on their gender advantages and the sinful influence of feminine wiles. It was pleasing to receive the confirmation that Octavien did not count himself among them.

"And, had it been anyone but me, then... Yes, I believe it would be."

Only a soft widening of the Marquise's jade eyes betrayed the surprise those last words had produced. A jolt quickened her heart: did he truly believe an injury to César's famous pride could bring them closer in any way? Nonetheless she remained silent, waiting for Octavien to elaborate.

"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."

A soft blush spread across Joséphine's lily white face, the urge of lowering her gaze growing inside: although she had had few doubts the reason for her unexpected reaction that night escaped Octavien, hearing him say it was confronting nonetheless. The Marquise was a firm believer that conjugal matters were best kept between the two people involved, and she had always found those who bandied their private doings about somewhat vulgar.

And he did not condone it. That was indeed a rare thing in a man.

However...the Prince had just offered her a small revelation, an outlook she had never dared before: to choose another man's affections just as César did with his mistresses. The very thought caused her a shiver: of fear – how immoral it sounded! but also reluctant agreement. There was truth in it. César had always been blind to anything but her feelings of love and devotion to him, which he knew existed, ignoring the fact that his infidelity harmed that very love, driving her to behave impulsively such as when she had kissed Octavien. She had been angry then, hurt, and unbearably lonely, longing to fill that void which she was drowning in, but also a part of her wanted to be wanted, that just as her husband had chosen another woman's arms for the moment, a man would choose her own.

Joséphine's real dilemma was that she truly loved César. Playing his infidelity game did not appeal to her, furthermore she believed once she went down that path, their relationship would become sordid as they pushed eachother further apart. However Octavien's point remained: a lesson was perhaps not unwarranted, and she played her cards properly, sharing another man's bed was not even necessary.

"But I don't think he could handle knowing it was me", the Prince said with a sigh. "I fear he would end up resenting you and me both, and nothing good would come of that."

“You were part of the reason I never confessed”, Joséphine admitted. “I feared too much it would ruin not only my marriage, for which at least I am responsible, but your friendship as well. I believe both are worth more than a moment's impulse. Nonetheless, I do see the truth in what you have said about César needing to realize love and loyalty need to be reciprocated to endure.”

She paused for a second, before continuing on a warm tone:

“Thank you, Octavien, for your advice and honesty. You are a good friend” the Marquise smiled and brushed the tips of her fingers against the sleeve of his arm before moving both hands into a firm grip of the reins. “I hope you will be able to banish the ghosts which haunt you and find the peace you deserve.”

Giving the darkening sky a wary glance, Joséphine prepared herself for the journey back. It would take at least an hour at a steady pace, and the prospect of riding through the cold, dark valley wasn't appealing.

“I think it is time I returned to the Palace. Do you wish to join me?”

((ooc: I hope it's ok I wrapped it up like this? since evening's around the corner, I thought they should get back.))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#405 Old 20th Apr 2008 at 2:54 PM
Default César w/ daughters & Dimitri - hallways
(((ooc: Sorry it took me a while to respond. Usually when I work the night shift I have the chance to write my post at work (Hey, if all's quiet, I'm alone doing pretty much nothing for 4 hours; writing posts or watching movies is what keeps me awake. ) and then post them when I get home, before I go to sleep. But last night was a really rough one, and I didn't get a chance to write anything, so... Had to do it after my nap.

Ghanima - Fine and dandy with me. )))



For some reason he could not pinpoint - which, frankly, he was getting rather used to by now, as far as Duc d'Lorraine was concerned - it appeared that just as César saw through his little charade, it began to fade. Slowly the mask lifted from the older man's face, leaving it to display something that, to César, could be described as... reserved weariness? Quite possibly it was another mask, but regardless of the authenticity that laid behind, it had been brought about by something that did not come entirely from within. Perhaps it was how despite her initial and unbridled curiousity, Adèle now withdrew from the Duc ever so slightly, with an air of caution replacing the previous intrigued one. Or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that with César having seen through it, there was no longer need for it, nor was it as entertaining.

"Discipline not enforced now only breeds into rebellion later", the older man answered his remark. "I am certain you know how that works."

Those were words that caused yet another change in the Marquis as well, turning the smile on his lips somewhat more acidic, as he clearly caught the gibe. Though for the sake of peace - for the last few straws that remained, before the two men would have passed that one delicate point of no return and used enough venom to infect an acquaintance that so far was built on little else - he kept his mouth shut. For once.

Instead, he simply allowed the Duc to continue, only to find that in the older man's case, the venom had yet to drain.

"But you must excuse my scepticism", he said, in a voice tinged with irony. "Perhaps you shall be the one to find the difference that has eluded so many fathers over the centuries."

Then, as was starting to become a habit of his, he turned his attention to the two little brunettes now both clinging to their father, and looked from one to the other and back again.

"Now," he continued once more, apparently ready to leave the subject of education and upbringing behind, "as I have promised these little girls presents, would you be so kind as to introduce their names to me? I think it rather inappropriate to label them 'Girl 1' and 'Girl 2'."

César, however, had one last thing to say on the matter. Though contrary to what one might've expected to come out of his mouth, it was nothing more than his way of approving of the end of the discussion, and agreeing to disagree. In short; to smooth things over. Not out of fear or resignation, but as a polite gesture, a sign of good will.

"Perhaps", he said, in reference to the comment made about finding that difference spoken of. "Or perhaps it is no more complicated than that our individual perceptions of what exactly discipline entails, simply differ. I would evne go as far as to dare say that is clearly the case."

Having said than, he then turned his attention to his daughters as well, one of whom was tugging eagerly at his arm; Adèle.

"Am I girl one, Papa? Papa? Am I girl one?"

What parent could not help but to chuckle at such childish ardency?

"You are both number one, chéri", César said and picked her up on his other arm, so that there would be no difference in their position to suggest his words were not completely true, and also so that both of them could look at Dimitri without tilting their heads so far back they'd almost break their neck, nor the old man risk breaking a hip for that matter, bending down to face them if they stood on the floor.

His voice took on the playfully matter-of-factly tone often used with children when one wanted to make them feel proud and important.

"You are Adèle one", he explained, "and your sister is Angélique one."

He knew so very well the noisy conflict that was bound to arise, should one girl be made to feel more important than the other. Luckily, the love as a father and all the time he spent with the girls, had made him a natural - at least as much of a natural as a man could be - at keeping the peace.

And so, with both parties merrily satisfied at each being number one, César could turn his attention back to Duc d'Lorraine.

"As you may have guessed by now, this little beauty is Adèle, and this little beauty here is Angélique", he said, nodding at each girl respectively.

Allowing the Duc a moment to acknowledge the introductions, he then continued;

"Now, I must ask you to excuse me, Duc d'Lorraine, as it appears it is almost bed-time for young ladies."


(((ooc: Seiza - Feel free to do as you please with that one; have it as a wrap-up post, or continue the conversation, I don't mind either way. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#406 Old 20th Apr 2008 at 3:48 PM
Default Dimitri, Cesar and the girls
To his surprise, Dimitri found himself grateful that the Marquis did not seem intent on pursuing this oddly contoured, surprisingly exhausting discussion. (Or “discussion”, rather.) Perhaps—and this thought was certainly helped by the paternal display the Marquis put on before him, quelling a fight between the girls before one even started—he was more matured than anyone gave him credit for.

And—the Duc thought of his own self, with no small degree of dryness—perhaps he was less matured than everyone gave him credit for.

“As you may have guessed by now, this little beauty is Adèle, and this little beauty here is Angélique,” the young father announced proudly, at which Dimitri tipped his hat to the young girls, golden feather gleaming in the evening light. “Now, I must ask you to excuse me, Duc d'Lorraine, as it appears it is almost bed-time for young ladies.”

Surely he could fit in one more quip about little girls...? But Dimitri only nodded. “A good night to you, Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, and to the Marquise.”

Anything indicative of what the girls would like—dominant colours in the dresses, ribbons, little animal ornaments—had been noted and filed before the Duc even realised it.

He walked off first, being the elder and of higher rank. He could hear the Marquis in the back, gently ushering his daughters along. Their shoes clicked sharply against the marble floor. It did not take long before they forgot to whisper, speaking indiscriminately loudly as young children did. Dimitri did not comment.

In the end, he had always been the sort to let Adalita run off, climb several dozen walls, absolutely tire herself out to contentment—and then he would chastise her, slap her wrist briefly and send her to her room, where she would fall asleep before the punishment even set in.

______

(('Tis fine, Atropa, that's a good place to end. Loved it! Cesar got Dimitri to call himself immature. LAWL. Go buy a lottery ticket, it's a weird day.

I heard night shifts can get pretty harsh, my friend tries to stay out of it as much as possible. But damn, I wanna watch movies on duty too!

Though I'm supposed to be studying and I'm STILL slacking off, so... The product of my not-working: another snapshot of the d'Lorraine household. Lady Jehanne enthusiastically explains her invention, the "eye ring". No prizes for guessing who spilled the wine.))
#407 Old 20th Apr 2008 at 7:56 PM
Good Evening Courtiers, In the Blue Salon tongith will be some refreshments, it is to be a general meeting point for those wanting to talk lovingly about the Princess (or about anything else )
Alchemist
#408 Old 20th Apr 2008 at 8:38 PM
((ooc: Aw damn, I wish Joséphine could've witnessed that scene :D

By the way, Fay...I was wondering: how long (in days) do morning, afternoon etc last at this point? I'm asking to get a clear picture of what I'd be getting into if I happened to introduce another *cough* character ))

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#409 Old 20th Apr 2008 at 9:18 PM
((ooc: Ghanima - Welllll, you know, servants gossip. If Joséphine happened to walk by and her ears were big enough.... )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#410 Old 21st Apr 2008 at 2:58 AM
((Yeah, I purposefully didn't say how empty the hallway was, though one assumes it was "kind of" empty. So use those all-knowing all-seeing servants at will, Ghanima. :D

Oh, good idea, Fay. Didn't even think of a post-funeral, ah... get-together thingie!))
#411 Old 21st Apr 2008 at 7:23 AM
((Well Ghanima, I think officially we work on a 3, 3, 2, basis; 3 for morning, 3 for afternoon and 2 for evening though I am happy to move to 4, 4, 3. I fthat is the general consensus. One last thing I will officially be starting a new thread with the new day, not to confuse you, but to make it easier to introduce our mystery new character and for me to update the first posts.))


Mercy opened her mouth. Intending to comment on the beautiful locket hanging round the young womans neck, but a gentle, yet familiar, cough allerted her to Helena's presense. Mercy knew immediately that she was refering to her current duty as the quenn's assistant, and even if it wasn't Conversations with Helena were rarely for public consumption. "Alas my dear Comtesse I must now leave you, I do hope to see you later in the blue salon."

Mercy bowed herself away from the Comtesse and moved as fast as possible in a corset and heels to the Queens' chambers. As she entered Juliet appeared, Mercy bowed low and proceeded to be expalined the rudimentaries of packing in excrutiating detail from a woman who, as far as anyone knew, had never needed to pack anything. Let alone frequently enough to be an all knowing force.
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#412 Old 21st Apr 2008 at 1:05 PM
Default Octavien & Joséphine - forest
(((ooc: Awwww, Octavien has a political supporter in Joséphine. Now I can just imagine him as King (and yes, I know that back in those days, merely thinking that way would be considered high treason, it's me thinking that way, not him, so .) )))


A sense of relief had started building in Octavien, as he and Joséphine progressed down the path of dark brown streaking the white and sickly pale green otherwise surrounding them. It had started as a mere quiver as he saw the look on her face while he spoke, and then slowly grown into a strong, undeniable feeling, as the tension that had previously ruled the very air between them, finally took it's leave of them. Like a pus-filled abscess pricked and opened to be drained, finally getting to talk about what had happened and why, had rid them of the discomfort it had caused, and the way it had stained their friendship with a shame that had threatened it's very existance. A door had been opened, an obstacle forced, leaving them able to speak freely once again, to breathe.

"You were part of the reason I never confessed", Joséphine said, proving that just as was the case with Octavien, the reluctance previously in her eyes had been the cause of many feelings indeed, but none of them resentment, nor blame. "I feared too much it would ruin not only my marriage, for which at least I am responsible, but your friendship as well. I believe both are worth more than a moment's impulse. Nonetheless, I do see the truth in what you have said about César needing to realize love and loyalty need to be reciprocated to endure."

As she paused, Octavien gave only a slow nod, his thought once again touching the subject of what would be César's reaction, if he found out there was competition. He had never been the jealous type, per se, caring little whether or not his mistresses found someone else to warm their beds when he was not there. Yet with Joséphine, Octavien had a feeling things would be different. Not that César would throw a fit with jealous rage, and end up hurting Joséphine somehow - neither physically or mentally - but rather be faced with the very same feelings Joséphine had been made a victim of for so long. To see the other side of the coin, and realize what he put her through. He may not admit it, he may not even let it show, but Octavien was sure that it would get to him. And while it may not entirely solve the problem, any change it would cause, no matter how small, would be a change for the better.

"Thank you, Octavien, for your advice and honesty."

Once again Joséphine's soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes back to meet with hers. There, as well as on her lips, he found a smile so relaxed and genuine that it was impossible not to return it, and as she reached out to touch the fabric of his sleeve, everything seemed to be back to how things had been between them, prior to the 'incident'. Only now, there was a new element, of trust and of a strengthened friendship that only perfect honesty and a joint venture through hardship could bring.

"You are a good friend. I hope you will be able to banish the ghosts which haunt you and find the peace you deserve."

Although they were words spoken in kindness, they caused the smile on the Prince's lips to fade, as he was once again reminded that even though one of his troubles had just been resolved, a myriad of others still remained to plague his mind.
But, not wanting to make Joséphine feel guilty when she had only meant well, and for words that really did warm his heart, the smile soon re-emerged on his lips, though maybe just a little bit forced this time.

"I think it is time I returned to the Palace. Do you wish to join me?"

Following her gaze to sweep across the darkening sky, Octavien was suddenly overcome by an erratic temptation to decline. To just stay in the forest over night, and venture the many dwindling paths for hours of darkness, with no other company than that of his horse, and of his thoughts. It seemed fitting, somehow.
Still, he knew that as a gentleman he couldn't leave a lady to fend for herself in a cold, soon-to-be pitch black forest she didn't know, nor would he feel like much of a friend if he did. No matter how resourceful and able Joséphine was.
Add to that the fact that within hours the entire Palace staff would be out looking for him, considering his less than subtle departure from the stables must have been noticed by quite a few people, and be quite a cause for concern, should he not return soon. It wouldn't be worth it. He would not be left alone for long, and it would be cruel of him to add worry to a large household already buckling under the burden of grief.

And so with nothing more than a simple nod, he guided them both onto a path which he knew would lead them directly back to the Palace. He did know the forrest like the back of his hand, after all. Even in the dark.

Though the silence between them didn't last very long, nor was it the kind of uncomfortable silence that would make any attempt to speak sound forced, and downright desperate. The tension was gone, and both Octavien and Joséphine seemed to have relaxed, so when conversation started up again, it happened with ease, and seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Which was probably why Octavien soon found himself yet again toying with the idea of confiding in Joséphine. Though 'toying' was perhaps the wrong word, considering it was more of a yearning brought about by the burden weighing down not only his spirit, but his entire posture. He needed to lighten the load, even if just a little, lest he go mad. There were things he could share with a friend. Things he had already shared with what he had then believed to be a friend, but whom he was no longer so sure of.
Baroness Taylor. Roseline.

Thus it came to be that only minutes after deciding not to, Prince Octavien opened up to Joséphine, and confided in her the true nature of his marriage to Adalita, leaving out only the reasons for it. His and hers both. There was no need to drag Adalita through the mud by confessing that she had been anything but an untainted bride, and he most definately could not explain part of his own reasons for marrying her; to be close to Isabella, without sending too many tongues wagging. It was better then, to leave Joséphine thinking he had done it out of duty alone. Things would be less complicated that way.

Words could not describe how relieved he felt, once he and Joséphine came to a halt outside the Palace stables. It had only been one little secret, but sharing it with her had worked wonders for his spirits, it had removed that small rock of his already far too heavy burden, that had been suffocating him, and given him back the ability to breathe.
For that, he felt forever grateful towards Joséphine, and shot her a faint smile as the stableboys came rushing in order to assist the two of them. A smile that then turned slightly apologetic while he dismounted, and one of the boys helped Joséphine do the same, as Octavien, who had always been of far lower rank than her and thus would have usually been the one to help her down, was now the Prince, and thus not expected to wait on anyone at all, but rather be waited on himself by an army of servants and loyal subjects. And, even though it was his prerogative as Prince to do what he pleased, and help Joséphine dismount if he so wished, he was not quite sure of what reaction it would bring, him being seen with his hands around another woman's waist and her hands on his shoulders, only hours after his wife had been laid to rest.

However, once they both had their feet planted firmly on the ground, he still offered her his arm in order to escort her back to the Palace. No one could possibly fault him for simply being a gentleman, could they?

"Thank you, Joséphine", he said, with a tone filled with warmth. "For your company, and for your ear. Without them, I think I might have gone mad."




(((ooc: Ghanima - So, so sorry it's so rushed and crappy, but I didn't have the chance to get into it the way I usually do, and write something longer. And I didn't want to keep Joséphine tied up any longer.

Also, everyone - For the same reason as above, I won't be able to post César until tomorrow, but I figure he'll return the girls to their suite, and when finding that Joséphine is not in his and her suite, he'll ask the servants where she is (so if Joséphine returns there, Ghanima, you can have them inform her that he asked for/about her, if you want), freshen up, and then head for the Blue Salon, where he'll be approachable. *nod*)))



*edit* - Now added to the post, to cover what I had intended.

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Scholar
#413 Old 21st Apr 2008 at 3:30 PM
Default Marie-Elisabeth: The Blue Salon
No longer in the company of the Baroness, Marie-Elisabeth wandered back to her suite of rooms. She had been intending to write to her sister but was halted in her plans by a familiar man who appeared to be waiting outside her suite.“Ahh Monsieur Lambriquet” she said, smiling as the man bowed in front of her ‘What are you doing here at so late an hour? Is everything allright at home”?

Simon Lambriquet was a man who had been a footman of sorts to her husband Charles when he was alive. He now functioned in the same capacity for her son, except it was more of a friendly Uncle/Nephew kinds of relationship than anything else.

“No Madame” he said, pulling some papers out from his coat pocket “Everything is just fine. I have a letter for you from the young master, as well as one from your sister the Baroness de Sicilie”. He handed her the two letters and bowed again. “You’ll have to forgive me for taking so long Madame” he said “I set out this morning but the journey took me much longer than I expected”.

“That is quite allright Simon” she replied, smiling as she looked down at the letter with “Pour mon Maman” scrawled across it in childish writing “I appreciate you bringing these to me. Will you be staying in the palace for the evening then?”

“I will Madame” he replied, nodding his head “It’s quite late to be heading back now”. “Then would you mind waiting a bit tomorrow to bring some letters back home for me? I’d like to reply to them but I won’t have time until tomorrow” she said and he nodded again. “Of course I will. Actually, I was expecting you to ask me that anyway”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled and said “Thank you very much Simon, I truly appreciate this”. He bowed again and said “It is no problem at all Madame. I will see you tomorrow morning then”. She nodded and he turned and walked off down the hall as she entered her rooms.

She pulled the hat/veil off of her head and tossed it onto a nearby chair before sitting down on the bed with the letters in her hand. She knew she had to go to the Blue Salon soon, so she’d only really have time to read one. And of course it was no contest as to which. “Sorry Caroline” she said, setting her sister’s letter aside for later. She smiled at the painstaking writing, which she was certain had been carefully overseen by his tutors.

To my dear Maman,

I am doing very well but I miss you very much. I say hello to the portrait of you in the pretty blue dress in the hall every morning too.

The palace sounds like lots of fun; I wish I could meet the Duc. I bet he would have lots of stories to tell me about Papa. Do you think I can meet him someday? That would be fun.

I am doing very good in my studies, can you tell how much better my writing is now? I’m almost as good as Papa was, my tutor said so himself. I’m going to write to Sophie and Helene next, I bet they will be very surprised.

I hope I will get to see you again soon Maman, I miss you. I hope you are having lots of fun
Love,
Charles


Marie-Elisabeth smiled and wiped away the couple of tears that had started gathering at the corners of her eyes. She was glad to hear from her son, and it had definitely put her in a much better mood. She carefully re-folded the letter and set it on top of the one from Caroline that she had set aside.

She walked over to her mirror and, after making some minimal adjustments to her slightly hat flattened hair, walked back outside and headed for the Blue Salon.

Again, there were not many people up and about, which of course was hardly very surprising. When she reached the Salon she could not yet spy anyone she knew so she decided to settle herself down on one of the couches with a cup of tea.


(((OOC: There we go Atropa *waits* And I vote for the 4-4-3 system. More time is always good)))

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
Field Researcher
#414 Old 21st Apr 2008 at 4:27 PM
Default Dimitri >>> Blue Salon
((I vote for 4-4-3 too. Barring super-slow days, of course.

Aww, Charles Jr. sounds so cute! (Psst, I saw your family pics in that other sims family thread, slytherin-girl :D) Must cook up some way to get him to the palace...

"HRH King Octavien"? I think I've gotten too used to "Prince". Now, "Emperor" on the other hand... :D))

______


Rukov hummed to himself in a breath under a breath—it wouldn’t do, after all, to be caught humming to oneself on the day of the Princess’ funeral. Yet it was all the man could bring himself to hunch over his shoulders and bow his head all day, in honour of Her Deceased Highness. He hadn’t known the girl (as did, he suspected, the servants who cried the loudest and most publicly in the kitchens) so he could not feel anything more than the requisite pity that someone so young and beautiful had passed from this earth.

He was, rather, more disappointed at the latest rumour spreading in the—once again—kitchens. And because he had heard it in that bastion of truth, he knew he could count on it being mostly accurate.

Unlike the Princess, he had seen the Queen first-hand and was convinced of her supposed beauty. Now she was sick or feeling faint or whatever noblewomen got up to under their corsets, and her mother was most likely about to take her home. What a pity. Should’ve gotten a lock of that blond hair sooner…

Rukov knocked on his lord’s door, bringing news of the announcement that the evening gathering was to be held at the Blue Salon.

He entered, and the humming died on his lips.

It was not because the Duc was already dressed for the evening, seemingly without anyone’s aid. That was the sort of thing Rukov had gotten used to happening, even when he arrived on time to help his lord change and so could not, by anyone’s standard, be accused of being late. It was just one of those quirks a manservant adjusted to, if abnormal punctuality bordering on psychic awareness was a “quirk.”

Dimitri sat by the large windows, adjusting his cufflinks. A glass of wine stood before him, half-drunk. Beside it was the pistol that shot Marquess Berini.

Rukov stepped closer, but circled widely around the firearm. “Mighty interesting table décor that is, m’lord.”

“Hmm?” It may have been a vase for all the attention Dimitri gave it. “Ah. Put it away, if you please.”

With a gingerliness he seldom showed, Rukov held the barrel. This certainly caught the Duc’s attention. He finished his ministrations with a flourish, asking, “What is it?”

“You’ve never taken it out before now, m’lord. Just curious, is all.”

Dimitri was exasperated enough—and close enough to his aid—to roll his eyes. This was almost as alarming as the gun itself. “I was only in a contemplative mood, nothing worth being ‘curious’ about. Put it away and you are free for the rest of the evening.”

“Aye, lord.” Rukov, loyal manservant that he was, only bowed as the Duc left.


((Open to Octavien or Juliet. Feel free to have Dimitri enter the Salon in your post.))
#415 Old 21st Apr 2008 at 8:52 PM
Juliet wrinkled her nose as she left her daughter's rooms that Baroness was a bit much and not really fitting of even the rank of Baroness, she lacked a certain level of refinement and some of the obvious lady like qualities, but she seemed loyal to Isabella and scared of Juliet herself whihc was a fair enough reason to trust her, particularly with a menial chore such as packing.

She descended one set of stairs, and approached the room, in which refreshemnts had been laid out in honour of her step grand-daughter. She sighed as she walked up to the door, a footman opened it for her but she was temporarily distracted and turned, Duc d'Lorraine, her guide from earlier was approaching. "Good evening my dear Duc," Juliet bowed her head to the man, who was, presumably the same age as her son-in-law and therefore only 4-6 years younger than Juliet herself. She allowed him to take her arm and escort inside the room, there were courtiers lining the walls, currently speaking without direction, presumably the King was to make an appearance and give a speech at some point, though as that could be quite someitme, she lowered herself into a chintz chair and indicated for the Duc to sit down next to her, they were seated in a set of four chairs around a mahogony table, but no one else, without a high reputation would dare join them, except the busy-body baroness who Juliet was currently keeping busy upstairs.

"The courtiers here are so very pleasant, in deed there is a Baroness helping with my daughters packing, a woman of about my age," Juliet said this with relish knowing well she had 10 years on the Baroness but she would never be corrected. "I cannot remember her name but she does seem most concerned about my daughter." Juliet gave a pleasant smile.
Field Researcher
#416 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 3:27 AM
Default Dimitri & Juliet - Hangin' at the Blue Salon
Dimitri had been only partly surprised to see the Duchesse de Margoles by the Blue Salon—he had expected her to come down with the King, not alone. Returning her greeting, he concluded that her hazy reputation was well-earned: one could not be entirely sure how she would act in any situation.

The Salon was draped in varying shades of Prussian blues and blacks, tastefully modest. Yet glittering embroidery lined the cloths, the cushions covered in silvery lace, a smattering of soft laughter even floated from the corners, some women and men had even spruced up their mourning gowns by now—indicating that the time of sorrow was almost over, and a tinge of merriment would grace this room. The seating had been arranged in groups of four—all the better to speak around, Dimitri surveyed. He recognised the Comtesse de Valois sitting alone, but the Duchesse on his arm had already chosen another seat, and he could do no more than follow her.

He took the chair facing the entrance. Although the footman would announce when members of the royal family arrived, Dimitri was keeping an eye on other potential problems. Even as he settled into that semi-conscious watchman-mode, long years of practice enabled him to listen to the Duchesse without appearing absent-minded.

“The courtiers here are so very pleasant, in deed there is a Baroness helping with my daughters packing, a woman of about my age. I cannot remember her name but she does seem most concerned about my daughter.”

It was the survival instinct kicking in, sharply-honed over many years living in a house full of women; Dimitri did not wonder if she was truly the same age as Baroness Venn. He did not even try. Surely, the woman would have known if he’d thought it, with their supernatural mind-reading capabilities, and that was one trouble he was not looking for.

“I hazard a guess that it is Baroness Venn who is helping the Queen. I was not joking when I said they were close.” Dimitri smiled with a hint of playful reproachfulness, which lingered between members of the same class. “But the best way to remember someone’s name, Duchesse, is to ask them for it.”

Two glasses and a plate of little pastries were brought to their table. He continued after the servant left, “Would I be too optimistic to hope the Queen makes an appearance tonight?”

If Isabella was leaving tomorrow, this would surely be her last chance to address her subjects. Dimitri had not gotten the opportunity to know her well, but he could detect the similarities she shared with her mother: both were women who knew—and knew how to wield—power. It did not seem like the Queen to miss the chance to lay one last mark upon the Court before she left... unless her condition was worse than expected.


((One seat is sorta for Octavien, but hey, if anyone has the balls of steel to sit with the Duchesse... :D))
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#417 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 6:45 AM
Default César - Blue Salon
(((ooc: 4-4-3 for me as well, at least. And emperor might do just as nicely. *nod*
Also, I now edited my Octavien post above, because I really did want it to involve a little more, so... Hope it's ok with you, Ghanima? You don't have to have her respond or anything, it was just a way for me to wrap it all up.)))



Better than expected. Such had been the outcome of the first real encounter with Duc d'Lorraine. Having gotten off to a not-so-surprisingly rocky start, as César had expected nothing less than to be reprimanded for bringing his daughters with him to court - a place that most deemed not suitable for young children - and a continued conversation lined with venom and words with a razor edge, it was almost strange how the two men had eventually, at the same time yet independent of one another, changed the direction in which the conversation had been going, and ended up being genuinely courteous towards one another. So much so that when they parted, they did so on what César believed to be fairly good terms, with a good chance that any possible encounters in the future would involve far less friction.

All in all, it had been a rather invigorating experience. César enjoyed a good verbal sparring session, and even though he'd gotten his fair share of it with Octavien, that had been sparring of the friendly and good-natured kind, and had little impact on their friendship. Now, a verbal duel where the opponent was not already a friend, and the outcome was uncertain, that was something else entirely, and as such added a certain level of excitement to it all.
And César did have a thing for excitement. It was what had made him take his daughters with him to explore the Palace in the first place.
That, and the feelings stirred by the funeral.

Speaking of which, had there not been a mention of an evening gathering somewhere in the Palace, for those who wished to talk about the now deceased Princess, and share their memories of her? Not that César had any memories whatsoever to share, nor did he have much to say about Adalita in general. He wasn't even all that interested in mourning the girl. But, and it was a big but, it would be a golden opportunity to meet the other courtiers, as he assumed most of them would attend. If not for noble and honest reasons, then for the simple fact that she had been the Princess after all, and showing concern - genuine or not - was a perfect way of kissing up to the King. What ambitious courtier would not jump at the chance to perhaps, maybe, if they were lucky, earn the King's favor? And since when did the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan pass up an opportunity to socialize?

However, despite the ardor with which he had defended his daughters and their manners (or lack thereof, according to a certain Duc), César did realize that bringing his children to such a sombre event would be crossing the line, even for him. And, much like he had told the Duc, it was nearing the children's bed time. He should return them to their nanny, before even thinking of searching out the gathering of courtiers.

"Come, mes chéris", he said, once he put them both down on the ground again, and began gently ushering them back towards their suite.

Before long, with only one small detour down a wrongful hallway to recapture a giggling renegade Angélique, the three of them were back in the children's suite, and after some convincing on César's part that, yes, his darling daughters were too tired, and that all pretty girls needed their beauty sleep, they were finally persuaded to go to bed without too much of a fuss. But not without saying a proper 'good night' to their father, with the planting of big wet kisses on both his cheeks, that came along with it.

César then returned to his and Joséphine's own suite, still with a smile on his lips. The kind of smile that only his daughters could draw from them, and only time wipe away, once something else demanded his attention.
This time, it would be Joséphine. Or rather, Joséphine's absence. Upon returning to the suite, César had pretty much expected to find his wife there, but when asking her maids he learned that she had left shortly after he had, and that they were not quite certain where she had disappeared off to. But, they added hastily added in an attempt to appease him, due to the slightly annoyed look in his eyes at their lacking first reply, the Mistress had dressed warmly, so one would suppose she had intended to go outside. Had she said when she'd be back? No, no, they regretted to say that she hadn't.

Needless to say, César was somewhat disappointed. He would have really liked to make an entrance with Joséphine by his side, as together the beautiful couple tended to make quite a grand one. But, if there was no telling when she would be back, then there was no point in waiting for her either.
And so, after exchanging his black ceremonial coat for another, dark navy blue one that brought out his eyes and the vivacity in them, and correcting his cravat, he left the suite once again, and set out for the post-funeral gathering.

He entered the Blue Salon much in the same way he would when attending parties and other social events wherever he went; with an air of refinement, and more importantly, virility. Though still quite young, he was undoubtedly a man, filled with vigor and vitality, stamina and strength, and while entering with Joséphine by his side added an air of authority to the picture, him entering by himself provided for a visual no less striking, as in a way, it made him appear even more untamed, and most of all, more available to the ladies whose eye he caught.

Just beyond the doors, he stopped for a moment to get his bearing, allowing his gaze to slowly drift from one side of the large salon to the other, stopping only briefly to greet those who were looking in his direction with a cordial nod before continuing. Beside the Duc d'Lorraine, who was just sitting down with the Queen's mother, there didn't appear to be anyone he knew there. Not even that older woman whose name he had yet to learn, and who up to this point had seemed to be practically everywhere, was there.

Though no sooner had that thought entered his mind, than his eyes decided to prove him wrong, by landing a very familiar young lady sitting by herself on one of the couches, and, much like when he had first met her, sipping tea, judging by the delicate china cup in her hand.

How could he possibly resist?

With his eyes making a second sweep around the salon, mostly to keep his destination from being far too obvious, should anyone - the Comtesse especially - happen to be watching him, he started heading towards said couch, slowly and casually, picking up a delicate glass of wine from the silver tray of a passing servant, and only once he was almost there, did he turn his head in Marie-Elisabeth's direction.

"Ah, if it isn't the lovely Comtesse de Valois", he said as he came to a halt next to where she was sitting, and gave a smile that left it no secret that coming across her was quite the welcome occurence. "Tell me, Comtesse, do you believe it would be inappropriate of me to say that I do believe the gods are smiling down at me? Or is it just one God we have? I forget."

Translation; César was not a particularly pious man, nor had he made a habit of going to confession, or even mass for that matter. Whatever that might entail.



(((ooc: Will try to have something up for Octavien this afternoon, but no promises. Though I fear if I don't, evening will be over before he's even gotten there, seeing as how with the 4-4-3 system, we still will be moving on to morning tomorrow. )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#418 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 3:06 PM
Default Octavien - Suite -> Blue Salon
More than anything, as Octavien ascended the grand staircase on the way to his suite, he wished that he could just stay up there for the rest of the evening. Alone, unbothered. Even the desire to stay in the forest over night that had overwhelmed him an hour or so ago, paled in comparison. But the reason behind this new desire, was different than that of the previous one. He had headed out with the sole purpose of purging himself of all troubling thoughts and worries, to be able to take a step back from it all, and start fresh at trying to untangle what had now become his life, with new-found clarity.

It had been a successfull attempt, though it had little to do with the daredevil ride at breakneck speed. It had managed to clear his head, yes, but what had really given him back his ability to view his situation rationally and with his usual sapience, was his confession to Joséphine. It had lightened the load just enough for him to draw a deep, mental breath, and gain back his clarity. He was now ready to re-focus, and determine the best course of action for him at this point. Which was why he desperately wanted to be by himself, so that he might do so in peace and quiet. With Adalita dead and Isabella going away, he knew that he now needed to protect his interests, more than ever, and secure his position. He did not think he'd be able to suffer the humiliation of giving up his own possible future married to a woman he loved and raising children of his own, to marry a woman he didn't even like, just to protect her and her family from suffering humiliation, and raising her bastard child as his own, only to have the benefits of his sacrifice taken away from him, to be tossed aside when he was considered no longer needed.

The best way of doing that? To see to it that he was not considered no longer needed. He needed to make himself if not invaluable, then at least important and influential enough to make a difference, not to mention well-liked. In fact, being well-liked was the very foundation on which he intended to build. Power in itself was useful, and could indeed keep someone in their current position, maybe even climb the ladder quite a bit. But it was only good until your opponents found a way to fight you, and more often than not, you would find the fight consuming so much time and effort that once the battle for power was over, you no longer had the strength to keep it. Only the most skilled players would, and they were few indeed.

Now, popularity on the other hand... There were few people, even in and around court, that would take up arms against someone they liked. Of course, as was the case with anything, there were exceptions, who would sell their own mother for a livre if it would take them one inch closer to their goal, but they were often easy enough to discern and manuever into falling on their own sword; namely greed.

It wasn't an easy task, gaining the favor of the royal family and the courtiers, and it was perhaps even more difficult to earn the favorit of the people. But Octavien intended to try nonetheless. And, he did have one advantage; he had a sincere way about him, of amiability and cordiality, with a genuine smile for everyone.
At least, he used to... Lately, it seemed what had once been the biggest part of his personality, had withdrawn, chased away by betrayal and various threats, by the ever growing bitterness that tended to stain his thoughts. Now, if only he could find his way back to what he had been when first arriving here...


Consequently, staying in his suite this evening was sadly not an option. Not with a commemoration for Adalita going on in the Blue Salon. As he husband, he was expected to attend. And as a survivor and a fighter, he had to.

"Gilles", he said the very moment he entered the lavish suite, and upon merely registering the form of his trusted servant in the corner of his eye, continued as he started towards the delicate china bowl and water pitcher near the bed; "Please bring me the slate grey waistcoat with the silver embroidery, and the dark grey coat to match. I shall..."

While speaking, he had turned his attention to Gilles, and his voice trailed off into nothingness when he caught the look on the servant's face.

"What it is, man?" he inquired, when Gilles didn't open his mouth to speak fast enough. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"Your Highness... It seems... It seems Marquess Berini has been murdered..."

Octavien blinked.

"'Murdered'?" he repeated, as though he thought he'd heard Gilles wrong, but paused again as the older man simply gave a nod. "How do you know?"

"One of the coachmen from town brought the news, when delivering the fish for this evening's... commemoration. Apparently the Marquess and his carriage were ambushed by robbers in the forest. They bludgeoned the driver, and when he came to, he found Marquess Berini inside the carriage. Shot to death."

For a moment, Octavien simply looked at him, as once again the thoughts started whirling inside his head. Marquess Berini, dead. Could it be a coincidence? Was he paranoid to even think that it may not be? Just as there were many adversaries to the King and the royal family, there were many fanatically loyal subjects. Who was to say one of them had not decided to take the matter into his own hands, when the Prince - the very target of the Marquess' attack - had proven to be too tolerant and merciful?

"That's...", Octavien started, slowly digesting the news. "That's... unfortunate."

The fact that in reality, it was anything but, needn't be uttered. One exchange of looks between the two men was all it took for them to share their thoughts that someone had just done the both of them, and Isabella as well, a favor, without even realizing it. There was no longer a need for either of them to be concerned that maybe, some day, the Marquess would go back on his word, and show up in the Kingdom to cause trouble once again.

"Now", Octavien continued as he pulled himself together, leaving the matter to be pondered later. "Do bring me the vest and the coat. I am already far too late."

Twenty minutes later, he re-emerged from his suite, washed clean from the smell of horse and forest, and now wearing the vest and the coat for which he had asked, along with a pair of dark grey breeches to match the coat.

As he finally entered the Blue Salon, the footman next to the door announced his entrance loud and clear, and for a brief moment, Octavien stopped dead in his tracks as he suddenly found himself the center of attention. During those first few seconds of his appearance, all eyes were on him, and for the first time since Adalita's death, he registered the pity in the eyes of some, and the malicious glee in the eyes of others. Hardly surprisingly, the mixed feelings in court, regarding the young Prince, were already starting to show.
Though he was determined not to buckle under the pressure, and so within moments, he continued further into the Salon, striding towards the two people whose company he assumed he was expected to seek first, in the absence of the other members of the royal family; the Duc d'Lorraine, and Isabella's mother, the Duchesse.

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Alchemist
#419 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 4:10 PM
((ooc: 4-4-3 works for me as well, and if I may say so, even a bit longer? I mean, one day difference isn't that much more time especially for those with multiple characters

also, slytherin girl and Atropa, hope you dont mind Jo butting in a little. Sorry if it's a bit rushed, I wanted to meet the deadline and have her show up before morning is called *hint at first suggestion* :P))


Joséphine and Octavien arriving at the palace - Joséphine entering the Blue Salon

It was rather interesting how a ride which had felt like mere minutes to Joséphine as she hurtled across the valley in a wild gallop was in fact so much longer and took her an Octavien a full hour or more at a steady trot. A bitter wind swept the dead lands, whipping their exposed skin and forcing the Marquise to wrap the cloak closer around herself. Light, too, was becoming a problem – evening fell swiftly at the height of winter and before long the sun's last dwindling rays sunk beneath the horizon.

Joséphine gave little thought to all this however, immersed in deep conversation with Octavien. From the moment she had set eyes on him on the forest path, she had known the Prince's mind was plagued by deep distress, but her initial invitation to share the burden had been subtly declined. Part of that was the reason for her current state of surprise, but the large part of it was due to the fact that an event she had always pictured with a smile – Octavien and Adalita's marriage – was revealed to be nothing but a sham, a loveless union in the name of duty.

At least he would not suffer her loss greatly, the Marquise mused, aware it was perhaps horrid of her to think that. Octavien was her friend however, and the prospect of him being crushed by the death of his beloved wife had been a heavy thought to bear. But no, the Princess had no such place in his heart – which left her wondering who did. If anyone at all. A certain memory surfaced momentarily, a possibility Joséphine had glimpsed earlier that day but dismissed it. All of a sudden, it seemed less improbable. Either way, she mentioned nothing to Octavien; it was hardly proper or any of her concern and while for the moment Joséphine's attention was given to his story, she knew she would probably fall asleep that night pondering all of it over and over as she often did.

At very long last, the Palace shifted into view before them, a vast sea of glittering lights in the near complete darkness. Joséphine welcomed the sight with a smile, eager to leave the freezing night at its doors not to mention have something to eat.

"Thank you, Joséphine",Octavien said warmly as they were being helped to the ground by the stableboys. "For your company, and for your ear. Without them, I think I might have gone mad."

“Think nothing of it,” the Marquise assured him and joined the Prince on the path leading to the main entrance. “What is one of our most fundamental needs if not a friend we can trust and confide in? A burden shared is a burden halved, after all, and if I helped ease your pain, I am glad for it.”

Joséphine subsequently bid the Prince a good evening once they both stepped through the doors of the Palace of Light and Air; she then followed the route back to the de la Vallière suite, which she found empty save for her old, kindly maid, Bess, who did not miss the opportunity to express her worry for the Marquise's health if she continued to spend so much time outside in the cold.

Assuring the old woman she was perfectly fine, Joséphine inquired about César and found out he had returned in search for her and had decided to descend to the Blue Salon, where a small dinner congregation was being held in Adalita's memory, by himself. Wanting to know if the maid had other news, Joséphine saw that kind, wrinkly face light up:

“And you should have been there, Milady”, Bess added with a conspiring glance. “I was going down to the kitchens for a bowl of broth and, I beg your forgiveness, couldn't help overhearing it. The master and one rather more elderly gentleman were having an argument over something or other little Adèle and Angélique had done, bless their souls. The gentleman seemed cross, but Master César would have none of it, what with strangers scolding his daughters! I couldn't hear all of it, Milady, but if I may, it brought me to tears, it did! He really does love them dearly, does he not?”

“Yes, Bess, yes he does”, Josephine answered quietly. She did not know who the elderly gentleman was, but César defending the girls before a courtier was strangely endearing, and caused her to gaze back at her bitter thoughts and comments with renewed guilt.

Guilt which all but vanished when Joséphine made her entrance into the Blue Salon half an hour later, refreshed from her outing and wearing a black and blue gown stitched with pearls around the bodice and sleeves. Nodding left and right to various greetings, the Marquise's gaze rested on the turned back of her husband: she could just make out a hint of blond hair from where she stood and the hems of a wide gown. Decided she would not turn away from them once more, she approached the couch where César spoke to the seated woman:

“Good evening, César,” Joséphine greeted, softly gliding across the floor towards them, wearing a placid smile as she glanced from her husband to the blonde. She knew better than to show any other emotion, particularly when her reasons were mere suspicion. Perhaps this was an opportunity to make sure. “May I join you?” she asked, before turning to their third companion: “Madame, I do not believe we have been introduced: I am Joséphine de la Vallière.”

If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets
#420 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 4:31 PM
((48 hours until morning....))

“I hazard a guess that it is Baroness Venn who is helping the Queen. I was not joking when I said they were close.” The Duc smiled at her Juliet's borw furrowed slightly, was this Man seriously suggesting that her daughter was truely friends with that woman? Juliet unfurrowed her brow, a good mother could recognise her daughter's friend's, and a practical mother could at least realise their uses, and Juliet was a practical mother so presumably this woman had some unknown service to offer.

“But the best way to remember someone’s name, Duchesse, is to ask them for it.” Juliet's mouh opened slightly and closed again, she gave a gentle smile. This man was doing his duty and protecting the woman's honour, what a gentleman Duc d'Lorraine appeared to be.

Two glasses and a plate of little pastries were brought to their table. She reached for the glass and looked upon her companion again. “Would I be too optimistic to hope the Queen makes an appearance tonight?” Juliet tilted her head to the left, "well that rather depends on Edouard, it is not in my, or any womans nature to control the appearances a husband needs his wife to make. Or in deed to control any aspect of his life." Juliet gave a gentle smile, she wondered about the gentleman, if her daughter had found use for this Baroness Venn then from the way he defended her he presumably had also found her use. But did he consider the woman a friend... or a tool.

Juliet was well aware of the three types of friends, people whom are your friends for convenience, those you see frequently and you may as well befiriend, those with whom you felt a kinship and those whom could do something for you.

The doors were opened and the Prince announced. Juliet stood, as she knew full well without her son-in-law or daughter present she was the person who would be approached first she gave a gentle bow, not too low, after all she was a royal's mother. "Good Evening your Highness, I do hope you are not fairing too badly this evening."
Field Researcher
#421 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 4:43 PM
Default Dimitri, Juliet & Octavien
“well that rather depends on Edouard, it is not in my, or any womans nature to control the appearances a husband needs his wife to make. Or in deed to control any aspect of his life.” Juliet spoke smoothly. Her hand did not even shake as she primly held a glass of wine.

But, also as a result of living with so many of the female kind, Dimitri was aware that a woman could hide her worst fears behind smiles and powders. A steady hand was no indication as to what the Duchesse really felt about her daughter’s condition. Perhaps she truly was convinced that Isabella only needed some fresh air back home. After all, she would know her daughter better than anyone... and she did not know of the poisoning.

Yet, until the possibility that Isabella had not been harmed in some way was settled, he could not let the matter go.

Any attempt he might’ve made to lure the Duchesse into describing Isabella’s condition, however, was halted by the gilded doors swinging open. A ringing voice announcing the arrival of His Royal Highness. Dimitri, with his clear view, caught what might be the earliest glance of Octavien’s reaction to his reception. As had been his habit with young Edouard, the Duc automatically checked off everything the Prince was doing wrong.

He stood at the doors as all eyes turned on him. It was too sudden. A gradual stop, a gentle flow into distinguished stillness showing a burdened soul rising to the occasion—that was what Octavien needed to portray. Stopping as he did only hinted at some form of intimidation.

His eyes were too guarded, too busy assessing the room’s occupants to remember that they had to—not just show, but to positively glow—sorrow and strength. A funeral was among the few times royalty were expected to show the appropriate emotions, but Octavien had been very strict, contemplative and self-composed the whole day. A good image to have at any other time. But to the Duc, as it might have seemed to other experienced courtiers, it showed that the Prince either cared or worried too much about others’ opinion of him, making him inhibit his actions and reactions at his own wife’s death.

The acceptance of the unwashed masses was not something royalty should ever show—even hint—they were concerned about.

Only a handful of the seated men even stood up; the rest, their insubordination secured by the absence of the King and Queen, were already issuing the young Prince their unspoken challenge. Octavien left the doors too fast—since he had stopped there, he should have remained there until all the noblemen were forced to rise in his honour. But he walked away too quickly, admitting defeat in a confrontation he probably didn’t even know he had been in.

Small as these signs were, they were enough. Dimitri surveyed the expressions randomly. Some at least attempted to hide their lack of sympathy with a well-placed fan or gloved hand; others did not even bother.

Neither Edouard nor Isabella was here. Thus, this must have been the young Prince’s first, real experience as the centre of attention. Dimitri did not know how Monsieur Lahance raised his sons, but having been untitled for most of his life, there was little chance that Octavien would have had an early and constant exposure to such subtle courtly laws of behaviour. More than lessons, more than observations; it was living through such intense scrutiny and manipulations that made royalty truly royalty…

As Octavien approached their table, the Duc rose along with the Duchesse. Being as tall as he was, it was hard for others to miss this pointed gesture. But for the Queen’s mother to do it as well, projected a very powerful and very public sign in Octavien’s favour.

“Good Evening your Highness, I do hope you are not fairing too badly this evening,” Juliet greeted politely.

Dimitri bowed beside her. “Good evening, Your Highness. Allow me to introduce to you the gracious Juliet de Margoles, Duchesse of Champagne and mother of Her Majesty the Queen. We were just discussing the Queen’s return home, and would be honoured if you’ll join us until His Majesty arrives.”

______

@Marie-Elisabeth and Josephine-- Ooh, so! They Finally Meet. *prepares for subtle, courtly :handbag:-ing*

And I just had to scream: !@$#!!! Sims Screen of Death. Guess my laptop has finally gone anti-TS2. Sigh.))
Retired Moderator
retired moderator
#422 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 5:20 PM
(((ooc: Oh my... I didn't mean for Octavien to fail quite that miserably... )))

~ * ~ Volition ~ * ~
Field Researcher
#423 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 5:25 PM
((*giggles* Yeah, even I felt bad for our embattled Prince after writing that!

Well, you could dismiss some of it (or most of it; it's all relative, and the post was from Dimitri's POV anyway) as the Duc being too critical. He DID spend most of his time with a future King. It wasn't an official tutor-student relationship, but Dimitri's had to rigorously study his own behaviour since then. I also thought that, without Isabella or Edouard there, most of the disobedient courtiers would've been more brazen with their disrespect. And though I think Octavien's been adjusting very well with his sudden Princeliness, there are just some things you can't pick up within a week, IMO.

But! If you want me to change anything (the no-one-rising-from-their-seats part in particular, since I just went with my impressions), just send me a PM and all will be solved. ))
#424 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 5:40 PM
((No you got her right, and I must say I am intimidated by these posts! Juliet naturly isn't but she has a stronger character even than me myself.... which IS saying something....

And comiserations Seiza, my computer was never that great as you can see from the sim Mercy pics...))
Scholar
#425 Old 22nd Apr 2008 at 6:06 PM
Default Marie-Elisabeth, Cesar, and Josephine

Marie-Elisabeth
had been one of the first few people to enter the Salon, and so enjoyed herself by watching everyone else enter. Of course one person she payed attention to immediately was the woman she now knew to be the mother of the queen.

She reminded her rather strongly of her own mother who, even before her father had passed away, had admittedly been the boss of the family. Marie-Therese Normandie took charge of everything from the running of the house, to controlling the finances, to arranging the marriages of all 16 of her children. Marie-Elisabeth was quickly becoming grateful she hadn’t met with the woman that morning, she seemed like the sort of person that knew exactly what you were up to even if you didn’t tell her. And Marie-Elisabeth really didn’t relish anyone knowing what she was up to at the moment.

She watched as the latest person entered the room, and lifted her tea sup to her lips to cover the familiar smirk appearing on her face. “Finally” she thought to herself as he made his way over to where she was sitting “Company I actually desire to be in”.

She placed her cup down on the table in front of her, not really bothering to hide the smile on her face as he stopped in front of her and spoke.

“Why thank you Marquis, I’m flattered” she said, shifting her skirts to make room on the couch “But I believe we do just have the one god. The old man in robes with the long white beard, remember?”.

She was preparing to say something else but was halted in her speech by the arrival of another woman, one whom she quickly discovered was César’s wife. “Lovely” she thought, quickly switching the less than innocent smile on her face to a more suitable one “How am I suppose to have my fun if I keep getting interrupted”.

“Ahh so you’re the mother of the two little girls I had my ear talked off about” she said “How nice to finally meet you. I’m Marie-Elisabeth, Comtesse de Valois”.


(((OOC: Dangit, I didn't get to reply I had one all done but I didn't get to post it before I left this morning. Here's the new one, I think it's ok Let the subtle bi^*h fighting begin )))

You can call me Robyn, tis my name after all
SixWordStories
 
Page 17 of 19
Back to top