| Logs |
2010 November 30
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Taps Logs |
Dance Me To the End of Love
After the ashes have been doused, Frere Alfonse uses an iron shovel and puts them into a heavy leaden box that he sends to the church via a couple of spare guards. He then saves Chanticleer from Mother Therese's questions by escorting her off the palace grounds so the sidhe can return to the others.
In the meanwhile, the people that have been blissfully unaware of the curse and the assassination attempt are getting the palace ready for the party that night, and guests are beginning to arrive. Roy doesn't normally use a valet, but his chamberlain arrives and begins insisting the king and his escort make ready. Roy mutters under his breath some more and then says, "I s'ppose I oughta invite Chanticleer as my guest."
Suraksha thanks the chamberlain for the warning, then smiles at Roy, "Why? I think he still considers himself quite honorably your guard, until the caravan leaves." She knows Gramma Marcie will be arriving soon, so she's not worried. She adds inquiringly, once the room has cleared a little, "By the way, could you give some thought as to what your goals are with this party, please? I'm going to go get dressed, but I'll be back to hear in a bit, all right?"
Roy smirks, "Goals? Hell, my goals tonight are not to get m'self dead and maybe get kinda drunk." He considers, "Granted, I don' wanna bad case o' whiskey di- ahhh... maybe not so much drinkin'."
The Hetaera covers a small giggle, her eyes sparkling, before she murmurs amusedly, "Well, there must be some reason you're having the party, yes? Someone you wish to impress, or negotiate with, or something?" She tilts her head at him and grins expectantly -- then at a light tap on the door she glances over her shoulder. "Ah!" There's relief in her voice, "Gramma Marcie. I'll be right with you!" She smiles at Roy, double-checking the colors he'll be wearing tonight before she pats his arm, asks him to give a bit more thought to his party-goals, then heads off with the older woman to her room, to prepare.
Once Roy is alone, he starts pondering. Goals, indeed. Mostly the party was simply to stay in the good graces of the rich and powerful in his city. Merchants and socialites tend to get restless if they don't get to dress up and show off once in a while. As he bathes, an idea starts to form and his brows draw together. After some thought he sends for the chamberlain and gives him some very specific orders -- which make the officious man's brows go up, but he goes to carry them out. When Chanticleer returns, Roy asks him, "Do you wanna come to t'night's shindig as a guest? I reckon you've earned some R&R time. An' yer leavin' inna mornin', right?"
Chanticleer considers for only a moment. "I'd rather be as a guard, Sir, if you'll have me. There'll be plenty of time to rest later. For now, I suspect that if there will be any sort of reprisal from any of Droog's cohorts, it would be tonight."
The king nods seriously, "'d be honored, then. Go rest up. Get clean. Do whatever ya gotta do." He has no compunctions about taking care of his toilette with the guards, or indeed much of anyone else, around. Shy is not one of the words one might use to describe him. Chanticleer nods soberly to Roy -- King Roy, rather -- and goes to clean up to prepare for standing guard that evening.
Sulochana talks quietly with Gramma Marcie as she bathes and prepares for the party, updating her godsmother on what happened, and asking her forgiveness for slipping off into the warehouse without warning her. Gramma Marcie takes the time when it's just the pair of them to tell Suraksha just exactly what she thought of that particular little enterprise. The younger woman is a captive audience, after all.
Suraksha looks contrite, and nods repeatedly throughout the entire diatribe. They both know, of course, the smaller woman will dive into danger again if she thinks it's the right thing to do! When Gramma Marcie pauses to draw breath, 'Chana murmurs hopefully, "But... it did get Chanticleer released without problems! Surely that's good, yes? You did want him to join us, after all?" She adds happily, "This should show Roy we're trustworthy too, don't you think?"
Sna'thaid scowls, "He would have been coming anyway. He doesn't need to be here. I know about his family. Though he might not want to talk about them. I'm just not sure which of them he is."
Suraksha pushes back her hair and grins curiously, "So what's wrong that he won't wish to talk about his family?"
The glamoured sidhe woman snorts delicately, "Perhaps. I wouldn't trust us yet. As for Chanticleer, there was some scandal. Let him tell you if he wishes. It's his story."
'Chana nods thoughtfully, "All right," then grins teasingly at the sidhe, "But godsmama, you don't trust anyone you've known for less than half a century!" She oof!s slightly as Sna'tha is somewhat... vehement with the corset strings, then giggles!
Chanti prepares for the party. He remains in Roy's livery, inwardly glad, and yet a little bittersweet, that this will be the last time he has to wear steel armor. Ah, but those are the things that sidhe epics are made of, aren't they? The knight errant traveling the lands, serving under a new lord with each new moon... well, all right, reality doesn't always match the great romantic epics. He's hoping to stay with Lady Sulochana for some time at least -- and he is most certainly no knight errant; not with his heritage.
In fact, he's rather concerned Marcie recognized his family. [Then again, it's not like you're a particularly plain looking sidhe, Chanticleer -- you or the rest of your family], he thinks to himself, straightening the short surcoat worn over the breastplate. [There always was a certain look about us, and not merely the way we strut....] His preparations complete, he reports to the captain of the guard for assignment for that evening. The party guests are beginning to arrive; most of them don't even notice there are rather more guards around than normal, or give a second thought to the especially close scrutiny being paid to the invitations by the first set of guards at the gate. The grand ballroom holding all these people already holds a swing band, several servers with trays of nibblies and drinks, and several guards. Some of the guards are out of livery and doing their best to blend with the gentry.
Once she's beautifully dressed, coiffed, and bejeweled, Sulochana pulls on the long gloves, collects her fan, gives Gramma Marcie a quick thank-you peck on the cheek... then glances around, wondering what's keeping Roy. When he's done primping and dressing, Roy moves across the hallway to the quarters Sulochana is using and taps on the door with the head of his walking stick... the Hetaera looks up and smiles.
The king has pulled his hair back in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck and it's tied with a black silk ribbon. The suit he wears is, of course, perfectly tailored. The lapels of the black tailcoat are rounded with no points at all and the white waistcoat fits his torso closely, drawing attention to the fact that he keeps himself quite fit. The gold watch chain that swoops in from the watch pocket has a small gold fob, embossed with the city crest, and his necktie is of the ascot type in a bold black and white pattern. The walking stick he carries has a gold head in the shape of a magnolia bud. "Think we're jest about late enough t'be fashionable and cause a scene?"
Sulochana laughs softly, rising and smoothing down her lacy cream skirts a bit, then shaking her head slightly so an artfully placed sable curl slithers suggestively over one shoulder. Her eyes are sparkling mischievously as she places an ivory-gloved hand quite properly on his arm, "Why, sir! A scene?" She flicks open her lace fan and twinkles over the edge at him, "How risque!" She giggles, then adds in a softer, more normal tone of voice, "So, is there anyone in particular we should be on watch for?"
Roy thinks about it for a moment as he offers his elbow to escort her toward the ballroom. Chanticleer has been asked to be personal guard tonight. Since Alg is still in the infirmary, one of the human guards is paired with the sidhe: a tall, slender young man with a serious mien that would be forgettable were it not for the extensive tattoos over his face and neck. The tattooed guard's ink is drawn from local themes: a water moccasin on his neck, a detailed magnolia across his forehead, gravestones on his cheeks. Chanticleer has never been entirely comfortable with Daoud. The young man is pleasant enough, but the tattoos disturb the sidhe knight somewhat. Body art is known to the sidhe and can be incredibly elaborate, and some of it even has death-imagery like gravestones -- but not quite so blatant. Then again, that's really just Chanti's personal aesthetic. Daoud is competent, and Chanti imagines his own appearance can be unsettling sometimes.
The king grins at the Hetaera, "Nah. Wouldn't wanna prejudice ya too much."
Sulochana gives Roy a perplexed look, then nods slowly, "Ah! Is there someone you want me to pick out or give you my opinion concerning them? All right. What can you tell me about what you're looking for, then?" She adds in exploration, "Is this... a prospective trade partner, or someone you're thinking of courting, or somesuch?"
The king grins rather cheekily down at his escort, "Courtin'? Why in hell would I wanna do that? Nah. Got mosta th' hoity-toits comin' to show off fer each other'n stay in my good graces. Likely be a couple ladies I might wanna spend some time with, but courtin' ain't my style."
'Chana smiles a bit perplexedly up at the king, but says nothing. She's thinking furiously, however, as she sweeps elegantly along next to his cocky swagger towards the ballroom. From his demeanor she's getting the peculiar, strong sensation that he really doesn't have anything he wants to do at this party! She's perplexed -- in her experience there's always a reason for politically placed parties, and desired goals within them. She would have thought Roy would trust her more, not less, after today's events, too. Unless... he's actually shallower than she'd thought -- or perhaps just hoped for?
The Hetaera sighs softly and gives a mental shrug. She's disappointed, but it appears all he truly wants at this party is to show off. That's fine; she'll do her best to have her aura read as 'splendid' for him, in that case. She lifts her head proudly and takes a slow, deep breath; her eyes go half-closed and her ruby lips curl slightly at the corners... and when she enters the ballroom with him she's doing her best to be truly amazingly beautiful arm candy.
The king pauses at just the right moment in the doorway of the ballroom. The chamberlain, who has been announcing the guests as they arrive, bangs his staff on the floor, making a sound that echoes even in the full room. In ringing tones the official announces, "His Majesty, King Roy of Baton Rouge and the Lady Hetaera Sulochana!" Heads turn, as they were meant to. There is a moment of stunned silence. Roy is known for having an eye for the ladies, but this lady is especially lovely. The king looks over the room with his well-known laconic smirk, nods to one or two people, and gives folks a chance to goggle at Sulochana before stepping into the room.
The courtiers are dressed in much the same style as the king and his escort -- some more elaborate and spectacular than others, of course. Diamonds and other precious jewels are much in evidence in the jewelry, sideburns much in evidence on the men. There is dancing in the middle of the room, the wide belled skirts of the women swaying in a sort of gracefully ponderous way. The Hetaera carefully keeps on her public mask; she's charmingly flirtatious, enchantingly witty, elegantly splendid -- and she never lets her demeanor overwhelm the king's. She keeps a careful, surreptitious eye out, but after half an hour to an hour she finally sighs internally as she realizes the king was telling her the truth -- his only goal at this soiree seems to be to show off and have a good time.
The party itself is lovely, glittering, crowded, stuffy, and hot too, much as she'd expected. Roy is quite clearly envied by many for his lovely arm candy, and with his rogue's mask so firmly in place, he just as clearly enchants many of the ladies and gentlemen there. 'Chana finds though, she feels oddly "let down" at just how vacuous the entire event seems to be. She consoles herself with the thought that the king of Baton Rouge may actually be as emotionally empty as he portrays himself, but at least he pays his bills and keeps his trade agreements. That helps her to remember to smile sweetly, speak charmingly when spoken to, and provide the best arm candy and distraction she can for the king.
Roy mutters quietly to Chanticleer to keep most of his attention on Sulochana; Daoud is going to be keeping his eye on the king. Chanticleer is rather neutral to the panoply of the dance. Oh, it's pretty enough, and he knows comparing it to a sidhe court is petty. There's some exceptionally, wonderfully complicated clothing that would make the more detail-oriented sidhe courtier green with envy; 'practical' is not a term often associated with sidhe. He nods once to Roy, keeping his attention on Sulochana and on the area around her, in particularly on those who pay any attention to her. Which, he reflects with a bit of a sinking heart, means pretty much everyone in the room.
Roy speaks to people with his rogue's mask in place, but the fact that he seems to know everyone by name and asks after family members of several of them -- also by name -- says he has at least a very good memory. He eventually makes almost a beeline for the dance floor with the Hetaera on his arm. Sulochana is getting a bit tired of the pointless chatter, so when the music starts and the king heads towards the dance floor, she inquires hopefully, "Do you dance, majesty?"
Roy grins down at her and says, "Cher, I was dancin' 'most as soon as I was walkin'."
Sulochana takes a slow, relieved breath, then smiles up at him with the social mask back on, to match his. "Then I simply cannot wait to see this!" She isn't joking at all, although she doesn't show it. She's tremendously relieved at the break from impending boredom, even as she artfully keeps it from showing on her face. It shows very subtly, however, in her body: she relaxes into Roy's arms and flows as smoothly and joyously with his graceful lead, as a swan floating effortlessly on the river's smooth swell. Her own careful mask fades into genuine enjoyment for the first time that night, and she laughs with pleasure at the bliss of dancing once more with a talented and willing partner.
Elsewhere, Chanticleer frowns a little. The room is filled with nervousness. The assassination attempt is apparently known, but only by rumors -- not in details. Which, Chanti figures, is for the best, but it leaves much room for speculations. The laughter has a tight edge to it, nervousness mingling with an attempt at levity. This sets the entire room off for him; it 'harshes his vibe,' as he heard one other guard put it.
Roy doesn't move with the stilted and formal skill of someone who learned to dance because it was expected -- he moves like someone that was raised with music in the house and dancing in the kitchen. His conversation during the dancing is nothing special, just flirtation and joking. Of course, there are people all around, so he could just be playing to the crowd. Still, the king seems to be enjoying the dancing very much, despite the shallowness of the conversation; as 'Chana knows, it is lovely to dance with someone who enjoys the dance for itself and not just as a social vehicle. The king actually seems reluctant when he guides the Hetaera to the edge of the dance floor after the first two or three numbers, "I should ask a couple local gals to cut a rug."
Sulochana feels much, much better by now -- her laughter while dancing was genuine, and her eyes sparkled with real pleasure. She has to hastily pull her social mask back on as she smiles politely and nods to him, then thanks him for the lovely dancing. Once he's departed she sighs softly, glancing around for one of the smooth servants with trays of cool drinks wending their way through the crowds; she's thirsty, and having a drink means maybe she can avoid some of the gossip and whispering that follows the king as he works the room. Political deals and reputations may be on the block tonight, but she's not really interested in that if she doesn't have to be. Hmm... or maybe she can entice someone else to dance? That'd keep her free of entanglements, and hopefully be a pleasure too!
The other guards in the room are known to Chanticleer, both those in livery and those that are trying to blend in with the crowd. Most of them don't do it very well, however, not being socialites for the most part. As Roy moves off, one of the "undercover" guards moves up and bows over Sulochana's hand, "Ma'am, may I have this dance?"
The Hetaera grins down at him, "I'd be delighted, good sir..." her carefully quiet voice gets mischievous, "to be your camouflage as part of the crowd!" She giggles softly at his startled glance, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as she murmurs, "Try to look more relaxed, and less like you're deciding who you're going to kill next, mm?"
The man is nondescript: not stunningly handsome nor homely, not exceptionally tall or short. He could probably blend into any crowd -- which is not exactly Roy's normal style. He blinks at the admonition and essays an awkward smile, "It shows, mm?" They move toward the dance floor and are quickly swept into the swirl of other dancing couples. Sulochana laughs softly -- and not unkindly -- and during the dance she gently gives him a few pointers in how to make his body language blend in a bit better.
Roy is also on the dance floor with a young blonde woman who has the sort of good looks that are likely to stay girlish right up until she's an old woman. She's doing a lot of coquettish blushing and glancing away from the obviously flirting king, and Roy seems to be lapping it up. Suraksha chuckles quietly as she keeps half an eye on her client -- looks like he's doing fine! She'll just plan on dancing with several gentlemen, then, until either Roy wants her again, or she needs a drink break.
Chanticleer wonders a little idly if the nervousness in the air is about Roy's fitness to be king. If so, it would be really bad timing for him to leave just now. His eye falls on the man asking Sulochana to dance, and his brow furrows. John has been in Roy's service for at least five years. He's a trusted man; that's why he's working the crowd in a suit and not in livery. But... well, it could just be that he's not used to wearing a suit. Who is? Not many people who carry a sword are entirely comfortable in a suit; Chanti has known sidhe who would gladly go naked, sooner than wear human formal wear. Then again, he knows some sidhe who take to said human formal wear with aplomb.
John is not sidhe, but he is a man who is normally at home just about anywhere. His awkwardness is a little out of place. The sidhe wonders for a moment if the guard is dazzled by Sulochana's beauty; while that would be oh-so-very-sidhe, he's not sure it could also apply to John. Well. Roy would have Chanti's head if something happened to Sulochana -- and how would it look if Chanti let the owner of the caravan he was going to ship out with get killed? More seriously, Chanti wouldn't forgive himself. He moves a bit along the periphery, staying as close as he can within eyesight of the two dancers. [Just give me one hint, John], he thinks. [Just the suggestion that you're bedazzled by Lady Sulochana. Anyone in Baton Rouge would be forgiven for that. But so help me, if there's something more to this I'll have to drop you quick....]
John does seem to be paying a lot of attention to Sulochana, even when she's dancing with other men. When she begs off a dance, he's quick to move in with a couple of glasses of champagne, offering her one with that same awkward and earnest-seeming smile. The words, however, are out of place with the earnestness, "I know what you're hiding from Roy." They're spoken softly enough to keep from carrying.
Sulochana reaches out with relief when she sees the champagne flutes John is carrying -- but she gives the young man a surprised look, drawing back her slender hand as she murmurs, "Pardon?!"
Chanticleer is finding it hard to consider John a threat; he does in fact seem smitten with Sulochana, considering how much attention he pays to her and how quickly he retrieves a drink for her. But the sidhe can tell as soon as Sulochana looks surprised that something has changed, and he moves quickly towards them through the crowds, intent but trying not to cause a fuss amongst the other guests. John continues with the same smile, pushing the glass toward her, "Please, take it. It'll look strange if you don't. And if it looks strange, people will start to wonder what's going on. That's no way to keep a secret."
Sulochana's eyes narrow, and she murmurs coldly, "Indeed... especially since you are apparently making this up!" She glances around, wondering who set this nonsense up. She really doesn't feel like playing. She adds dismissively, "I am not interested in whatever prank it is you boys have come up with. Don't ask me to dance again."
John shakes his head and says, "Please. It's no prank. I know what you're hiding and what you're planning. Take the drink and talk with me a while. I can help you. He trusts me."
Sulochana is already turning away when it suddenly registers: could this be someone plotting against Roy?! For an instant there's a scarlet flash in her hooded eyes... then she turns back to the young man and smiles sweetly as she murmurs, "What on earth are you talking about? Who trusts you?"
John glances up as he sees Chanticleer coming and murmurs, "Roy. And Chanticleer. Who's probably coming to protect you. Come find me when he's reassured himself." He slips away just as Chanti arrives. When she doesn't take the glass of champagne, he takes it with him.
Sulochana watches the young man leave with narrowed eyes, although her face is serene. She turns, looking for Chanticleer, then smiles in relief as he approaches. She tucks her small hand into the crook of his arm and murmurs softly, "Chanti, what do you know of that young man who just left me?"
Chanticleer inwardly grimaces as John ghosts off into the crowd. "John D'Amato," he murmurs to her, trying to find the man again. "One of Roy's more trusted guards; he's been with Roy for five years. He's supposed to be comfortable in any setting, which is why he's in a suit. But he was acting... oddly. When I saw the look you gave him when he offered you the glass, it seemed like something was amiss." He looks to Sulochana. "Is everything all right, Lady? What did he say to you?"
The Hetaera shakes her head slowly, although her public smile remains artlessly lovely, "How... trustworthy is he, please? Would you say you or I or Roy could trust our lives to him?"
Chanticleer arches a brow slightly. "Until now, I would say that Roy would trust John implicitly with his life. Almost as much as he'd trust Pierce."
Sulochana flicks her fan open and glances over it at Chanticleer. The much taller man can see how she's using the lacy little fan as camouflage, hiding her worry, as she murmurs, "I... am not sure, Chanti, but I think... I think he believes I have malicious designs against Roy!" She frowns behind the fan, her eyes calculating. Finally she nods once, looking up at Chanticleer again, "Will you work with me, Chanti? If he is indeed trying to harm Roy, then we must stop him... but subtly, so if he is innocent and simply doing his job too assiduously we won't get him into trouble."
Chanticleer nods, "Of course. I know you do not have any such designs on Roy. I will help."
Suraksha looks relieved, "Thank you!"
[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]