The Glad and the Mad

[Lady Eleanor Plantagenet]

"Madness need not be all breakdown. It may also be break-through. It is potential liberation and renewal as well as enslavement and existential death." -- R.D. Laing

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

Streets were like honeycomb, people like bees buzzing through it from one part of the hive to the next. Where was the Queen? Could it be that the Queen was split in two thus allowing for a King, for most males in hives were subservient or so the small one was told once in the countryside of Suffolk. A life behind a veil of thin gray shadows, that one, a life one hundred years ago lived by a body that had only come to eclipse fifteen. By the standards of the age, at sixteen she would be near a matron! It was a new world to be so free amid the air to breathe, the day to taste. At the fore of her were two guards, at the front of her infinity. Neither with Lady Anne did she maneuver now or another borrowed. Sweet self simplicity. Sweet self bliss. Waif whispered to the very wind all her sweet suprise at the bustling thoroughfare or discovery of genius in simple cobbled stones. Hems were lifted just so to allow petite foot forward fancy. "This is very astounding," she said half internal, half allowed "Very astounding!" One would expect a guard to mirror a reaction of some sort to reflect the lady's speech, but she didn't expect it. By now they understood the 'habits' that marked Lady Woodstock. (d)


lady Ana-Catalina deCervillion

Go, be among the people. It had been more a command than a light hearted suggestion from the Bishop. Among the people she would go with only a single escort in Italian livery. She might have been a fugitive, but there were still a few willing to risk their necks for her. Those rare and loyal few who felt the Duke of Ferrara and the King of Naples in the wrong for hunting her like some March Hare. Head up, neck straight, the epitome of civility. That was the Italian way. It was her way, bread and bone. Raven haired, olive skinned and eyes like moon through mist. Though her features were impassive, those mercurial eyes were not. To and fro beneath a veil of raven's wing lashes. Merrimentjust lurking as she spied a stall manned by a Florentine. What news of home would be had, if she merely asked? Who was he to know exactly who she was? In the simply cut saia of apricot, she was just another minor noble lady. In passing of another willowy figure, whose words were slightly off-kilter, eyes slanted with a twitch of mouths' corner. It was an odd lot no matter what day she came to be among the people. (d

Galen Vasilios

:The hoopla that was created by the bustling of the towns people was enough to lull Galen out of his daze. His attention span for the world had been shortened a substantial amount, since he had taken up the role of educator. The youth had completely forgotten what he was doing. There was almost a fish out of water stare upon his face as he blinked the haze from his eyes. A few coins were in hand, the metal clinking together as his fingers cinched over the currency. It only took the merchant's persistent yelling in Galen's ear to get him moving again. That's right, he was in the process of buying a fresh pastry from one of the stands.: " Oh...aye..." : A sheepish smile appeared upon his face as he finished the exchange and took his baked good. Lord, he must have looked like a complete invalid for his lack of response time. As he pulled away, the tart was broken in half and part of it placed into his mouth. A slow chew, then a swallow. Oceanic hues flitted about as he caught wind of the words "Quite Astounding" He was more so curious about the event which had captured the young Lady's attention, rather than the face of the woman herself. To him, nothing seemed out of the ordinary! Then again, Galen wasn't all there this afternoon.: <d>

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

The young woman found life astounding, the feat of living in the honeycomb astounding. A wealth of goods spilling out of vendors was astounding. Small hands exchanged Griffin coin for a sweet pear. Gentle cant of head was used to signify her thanks as she moved to intersect now with two unknown lives. A sun rose on the English woman's smile - "Good day," the noticed had noticed the oddity of speaking to the nothing in the air. Now she looked at them with a measure of calm, sweet civics. A small jewel sat on her brow suspended by a thin chord of ribbon on either side to vanish under her strawberry blonde hair. One of the guards pointed out the clock telling the hours by number, activiating the sequence of the Cathedral bells. "Is that how it is done? Thank you. I will remember this. I will wish to share it with my sister, and the Lord Atherton." The livery of the soldiers was indeed that of England, but now the golden Griffin of the King had been incoporated with the rose and crown. (d)


Lady Ana-Catalina deCervillion

Insanity ran her family, and Ana-Catalina Theresa knew the signs of it well. Yet, the marked rise of one ebony brow denoted only that this young woman before her with her own escort was nothing like her brother. Where she seemed genuinely surprised and happy, her brother ranted and raved. So perhaps, just perhaps this woman wasn't mad at all. Just one of those fortunate few who could go through life with their mind in the Cereus clouds above them all. Closer to God, the Church would say. "Forgive me, Domina. Good day to you." The lilt was anything but English, for she had not a drop of it in her blood. The emblem of the livery was something else to note, but Ana-Catalina was on good terms with the current monarch of the realm so she did not worry overmuch. If ever she came to power herself again, they would be counted as friends

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

Eleanor was close to God indeed. Her head was filled with Cereus clouds; pieces of them flirted with the nimbus variety while what connected them was as grounded as the roots of a tree. Holding her fruit treasure, she curtsied in respect as the woman passed. Something commanded it. It was undeniable, the noble air. "Domina. It sounds so pretty a way to say something. My sister says I should take up another thing to learn, perhaps I shall learn that language - it is Italian?" The guard confirmed to which Eleanor gave a serious nod of head as she took an unserious bite of the purchased pear. She tucked a strand of strawberry blonde once more behind her ears, sealed her eyes shut to experience in private the whirl of colors erupting from exploding tastebuds and maneuvered on, just herself in the company of two guards in the livery of the English and Scottish union as under the Griffin reign. With each bite she resolved deeper to learn Italian. It could not be so terrible, she thought, for she spoke French well enough. (d)

Earl Cedric Atherton

Atherton was on a mission. Personal of nature. Though most would call the Earl mad, completely bonkers even, it was one that his mind was set on. What was this particular mission? Old in his years, Cedric Atherton, Earl of Warwick, had set in motion a plan indeed. To court, aye indeed court, a Princess of England. One said to be insane, possibly moreso than him, to boot. The Earl didn't particularly care though what people said. Tongues wagged almost nonstopno matter what one did in this world. Annoying pests gossipmongers. After having consulted with Lady Anne, who'd made him quake in his boots, Cedric had finally gotten the location of his sweet Eleanor. Heading along the streets,flowers in hand, Cedric was nervous and...well he felt ridiculous. The location was easy with the whispers, one could build a road of gossips and find just about anyone. (d)

Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine

He had been riding, for everything of his perfected posture spoke of the sport. His entire figure was dressed for such an event that it would almost be a shame had it not been Jean-Claude. The cool air still burned his face a bit flush, but everything about him seemed put together. Yet..what was this color he wore? Not black! Save for the nearly thigh high boots that were nearly poured against his skin they seemed to fit so well. Who knew that Aquitane was such a sportsman. The wind had given a once over on his hair that Adelaide would adore once she found her beloved. He was a man of tall stature, one true to the land of the Scots, but it was when he wore the tighter ensemble that the honest truth came alive of his French heritage as he was a rather thin man. A staple within the house of Aquitaine no matter what crown ruled would be those defining dark eyes that as he moved through the market were glued themissives within hands. However, it would be only a moments notice of the Lady Woodstock that would have him smile dearly. "Bon jour, Mademoiselle.." How old was he again? Impossible. He didn't look a day over 30. (d

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

She did not partake of a ride for she wanted to walk. Walk up the steps, down the steps. On the streets, over a bridge. She wanted to absorb every aspect of the place until her mind couldn't contain it anymore so like a font she'd tip over, empty, and fill up anew. Half way through the pair she came upon a vendor selling beautiful ribbon with the promise certain shades would offset the warmth of her hair. Little pleasures were denied the royal blood for life was supposed to be small, restricted expectation. Life was a cracked egg now that she spied the world through via the yolk. Peering up from her ribbon keeping she saw two things that would make her day: Towering over her casting a shadow had been the man whom had saved her life. At her curtsy, so too would the English guard whom recognized a man of state. It had been his eyes, for he almost fooled her. He looked so restored! "Master de Aquitane, Bonjour! I almost didn't recognize you sir, you seem so changed! It is not bad by any means...." She had hardly to rise an inch before she stopped again, her face flushing as she turned the cheek to conceal her widening smile.Was that Atherton, looking about? Was he holding flowers? "What a wonderful day to come out. How are you sir?" (d)

Earl Cedric Atherton

Who was that man upon horseback? From a distance one couldn't tell, but the closer Cedric came the more it became recognizable. One brow lifted at the sight of his old friend, never seeming to age, who suddenly seemed yearsyounger. And in front of a dear friend? Eleanor...his Eleanor... One gloved hand lifted to check dark hair then straighten the olive green jacket over a darker green shirt. The Earl had made sure his black trousers were free of wrinkles and boots were shined to let the leather gleam before even leaving. "Good day, Lady Woodstock." Body dipped in a bow before straightening to pass the flowers, a mixture of many colorful ones, toward the lady. "I am well. How are you this day? And Jean-Claude! How dashing you look. Trying to impress the ladies?" One eye offered a playful wink. (d)


Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine

Jean-Claude would smile as he looked down upon the woman, take her hand and kiss it before returning her bow. "Lady Woodstock, what a pleasure to have you here now. Are we enjoying Scotland?" His eyes found Cedric, and those belovedflowers of his..he wanted very dearly to laugh at his old friend, but feared he would wound his pride. He was French. He was a bit arrogant, and Jean-Claude knew well he had always been the more handsome of the two. "Not nearly as much as you." His voice lowered as his hand came to clasp Cedrics back. " Flowers Altherton? Really?" So rare was the laughter behind his eyes, of good spirited kind prodding at his dear friend. "My my, Mon ami..Are we that smitten ?" He turned to look then back at the Lady Woodstock as he came to stand behind the shoulder of his old friend, "Shall I up the ante?" He spoke with a bit of a smirk, quietly to the man as he stood against his shoulder. "Or is this Cher Tresor, off limits hmm?" Old rules to a playboys game, he would smirk then as he would cast his glance down to meet Cedric's eyes. (d

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

Willow branch was lifted to man's mouth for the still flowering ends to receive a chaste, adoring kiss. Atheron bowed with an offer of flowers to adorn the willow tree's place in the field with affection he hoped would prove eternal no? "Oui, I am enjoying Scotland, so very much. There is so much to see and do here. Sometimes the weather is a little colder than England, but it is easily warmed." Touche, small one! Oh if only she knew how effective the little jab could prove as the spark in her eye increased on viewing Cedric while betraying nothing of spark's truth to he world. Only to turn to Jean'Claude, flowers veiling face like a fan save for the large rounds of doe-eyes at half lid"I have heard the forest has beautiful trees with many colors, and of other regions! I should like to entertain..I think it would be very pleasing to the household, perhaps a ride?" Between two men the eyes went. Flowers would be given to one of the couriers the guards stopped in the road with instruction to put them in water for the lady's chamber maid. One flower was plucked up, tucked behind her ear. Another few she kept to hold like a little posey boquet. "My Lord Atherton they are so beautiful, more than the first you brought to me. I saved a few of them ,pressed in a book. So that I can make them in to a charm, to keep close." Then she let the men have their talk as she surveyed the goods of a nearby vendor. (d)


Earl Cedric Atherton III

"Cher Tresor indeed, old friend." Fondly could be recalled days when they played boys games. Both aiming to woo a certain woman and see whom would win. Yet those were days when youth was friend to both. Games could be played as the worries of age seemed far off. Would they not be young forever? If only, if only. Reality always caught up to wishful thinking. Embarassment was held in check to avoid being displayed for Jean-Claude to view as one hand clasped his back in return,"Aye, I happen to be smitten. Old fool that I may be." Attention was turned once again to Eleanor, watching the way she moved through vendors. That she'd found enjoyment in the flowers given, now and before, made himsmile wider,"Do you think me a fool, Jean-Claude? To aim for one so full of youth and life seems foolish. Yet she seems to have me bewitched." Booted feet moved forward to see what it was that Eleanor looked upon now. "Perhaps, m'lady, we will have to take a ride one day and look upon the land. I hear its beauty is surpassed by none." (d)


Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine

With that he would out right laugh giving his friend a sturdy pat upon his back. "Please, Mon Ami..do not put yourself down. You have not changed one bit. Besides, you are my only proof of what they say of short balding fuzzy fuzzy fuzzy men no? How you say?" He waved his hand searching for the word, "Champion?" Mmm, close JC--getting warmer. "Besides, Cedric, look at her. She is so full of life. Careful she does not slip through your fingers." His eyes would find the darling Woodstock, and then give a side glance to Atherton..and into mine. What a cad this man. England did a number upon him, restoring him to what once was, but all the while keeping a humble new start there just under his fine Italian leather riding boots. With that he would clear his throat, "I fear I have filled my yearning for a ride, Ma petite..but perhaps after I tend to my shop, we shall have dinner?" He would extend his arm to the LadyWoodstock, bending to speak to her in a kind sweet manner, "Have you had a chance to look at the new fall collection? Of Spanish inspiration due to my apprentice's return from Spain. Really marvelous. Come see the ribbons there," He would wave away the little ribbon stand, "As fine as the flowers there within your hand. Perhaps even one to match your little charm you wish to make hmm?" (d

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

She touched the ribbons in colors of bright reds, greens, burgundy. My what a vivid little soul. Even now she wore a rose petal pink dress with a complimenting cloak in brown. She did not evesdrop upon the conversation of men but was not alien to effects (even if a few things she still lacked by sheer experience). "Oh no, not now. But during the day. It will be too late soon and it wouldn't be seemly for me to be out so late. Riding." She grinned as she accepted his arm, looking at Cedric for he was right beside her. One on top of the other. What was it about? Both of them had always seemed very intent to protect her from world cruelty. "May we all have dinner, together Master deAquitaine? I should love to hear about Spain, and see the bright colors why I have heard you do so much with wardrobe! I had no idea you could do so much until these last pair of years. So much change, and..and sweeping effect! They would look better on my sister though. We must bring her something, Master de Aquitaine, lord Atherton. I fear she is very reserved to things. She encourages me out of doors but will not come! I worry." Pair of lips puckered out in sad little purse before she sighed softly. "But no worry now, it will be a golden time! Soon we will have court I hear, I can not wait to see all of the people! There is so much whisper of valor or even scandal." As Atherton walked next to her she'd let a few of her fingers graze his elbow. "I wonder if they are as scandalous as the old stories I have heard. Goodness look! Now.." She whispered, "That is a lady of the evening. I can identify them now." Thanks to Atherton. Unassuming coquettes were just as desirable as free agents no? "I wonder how much business she fetches on the market...oh and will you both tell me..What is a Lily?" (d)

Earl Cedric Atherton

Competition, friendly or otherwise, brought raise of brow on Cedric's lined face. In youth Jean-Claude had been the winner of many a competition. Yet he couldn't win in this situation. Cedric wanted Eleanor- as a lover, as a wife... a companion. In an honest way. He didn't want to bring anymore harm to the young woman's reputation nor distress to her life. She went through enough. "That is most tragic. Your sister is missing out on seeing a grand place. I have come to Skye on many an occasion and it is wondrous to see." Cedric moved to Eleanor's other side, appraising closely ribbons that might catch her eye- to perhaps surprise her with later. "What color does your sister favor? We can surprise her with items from the marketplace, perhaps, to brighten her mood." The Earl glanced over at Jean-Claude,"Mayhap a gown chosen by Jean-Claude himself." As to...Cedric blinked...did she just ask? Oh dear. Honesty had beenpromised, but in this could he? It wasn't an appropriate public conversation for a lady of status. "A Lily is not a topic for a lady as yourself to be told of in public. It would cause quite the scandal." (d)

Lady Ana-Catalina deCervillion

The throng was mild now, the air less so. Not that she showed how the mingling of bodies, food and goods on those Italian features. Vibrant in apricot silk, she and her escort paused outside the most fashionable of shops. One which she knew well, and whose proprietor was equally well known to her. That she had much to thank Jean-Claude for was a given, but his current state of disrepair made only the corners of her mouth twitch. The young woman from before was there also, as were several others with whom the fugitive principessa was unfamiliar with. It didn't matter. What mattered was she was among the people. Just as Meurig had told her to do. (d


Master Jean Claude deAquitaine

Oh how he could not stop the smirking, terrible really, but look at Cedric. He really was bewitched body and soul to this little mistress. Did he not know of her scandal? Perhaps his old friend really was that blind. Perhaps, he didnot see the twinkle in her darling eyes at the thought of going behind the back of this beloved court. In her fit of madness, The Lady Woodstock had indeed spoken her heart to cool only against his cold hands. Though it had nearly broken his heart to watch her suffer his eyes had known the true depth of a soul when it was as close to hanging by a thread as hers had been upon her sickbed. "Come inside. Really, I have..." Got to change..His heart stopped with the sight of the Italian Princess, and had he been a catholic man he would have fallen to his knees to beg for mercy..his hair, was that the wild in it? A little ride in the fall was all he had wanted, and now look. "Mon dieu.." He quickly opened the door, and the autumn wind swept him in, "Julian!" His apprentice sat up in his chair startled as Jean-Claude moved past him in a whirl. "Distract her." Up the stairs he went, with a shout down, "And welcome our new guests." Who by now had to be standing in the door with wide eyes at the rush of the Frenchman. Poor Julian who had been propped asleep on the counter certainly was. "Come in?" (d


Lady Eleanor Woodstock

"Oh my lord, you are so kind! She favors red and peach. They look fetchin on her, perhaps a gown of either shade to match the ribbon? The King shall find he has no more beautiful a sister now that he has claimed us than in Lady Joan. That I should aspire to be half the lady, or member of royalty that my sister has been would be to make myself wholly glad." Her sister was worthy of a thousand praises; Joan endured great trials to love her siblings. One was dead, one was now the Duke of a land he would have ruled as King, yet adored the King-head. She wondered what their fates would be while Eleanor no matter what the fate challenged it by being half cloud native sprite, half besieigd demon if pressed. Her sweetness was self evident but a torn mind could not help but disjoint or reassemble in odd fashions. Hers had been no easily lot. "If you say it is not proper we will not discuss it." With a slight worry she may have offended or shot too far? How does one live within so much open space! "I am still curious though," matched with an eye twinkle to seal it. The Italian woman emerged like an Angel and Jean-Claude ran as if he was too unworthy to witness another Annuciation. "Whatever has gotten in to Master de Aquitaine, is he alright? He is behaving in a peculiar fashion which he often leaves to the likes of others." Goodness, he was a flamboyant soulwasn't he? Wasn't that the trait of a sodomite? But he wasn't for the stories..he rather preferred fine soft feminine peaks and ravines within thighs, not posteriors.Worry not for her being, the poor thing had been married and discarded for she was not what her husband had desired. No, she was neither endowed enough. He wed her for the ability to have royal blood as relatives. She took Atherton's arm in his absence before she gave a nod of greeting, a smile to the Italian. Look, she wore the same color of fruit she'd eaten that very afternoon! "Hello, sir, and thank you." So said to the apprentice. Over the threshold to step, timid, nervous. Ah just let her find her feet again (d)

Lady Ana-Catalina deCervillion

"Domina." A nod of that sleek, darkly crowned head once more toward the woman who was perhaps a bit touched by God. Seeing that Master Jean-Claude was well on his way into the interior of his shop did not allow for her to admonish him on his present state of affairs. Rather, the quick exit to freshen himself afforded her a brief moment of her own to smile into the confines of her fan. She did not want to insult the man, but seeing such a flight certainly was entertainment enough. "Julian, when your Master is available, a word?" Silky and softspoken, there was a hint of command there. The subtly of the highborn. She would of course, wait well out of earshot from the others so as to given them their own privacy. (d


Julian Monroe

What was it that had Jean-Claude so flustered? Oh..yeah. He snorted rolling his eyes as he filtered in behind the desk once more closing the book he had been reading. "The Master has a talent for keeping such company hmm?" He spoke to Ana before turning his back on her. "Wide eyed." His words sounded nearly disgusted as he shivered with what? Distaste. However, her little command no matter how much of a hint nearly did him in, and brushed past the Princess to Woodstock with his hands behind his back and nothing about his face amused at her. "Is there something I can help you with?" Soooo convincing in his words, Julian really you can have a gold star for service.

Master Jean-Claude deAquiaine

He had become a Master of many crafts but transforming from rooster to raven had always been a pleasure. His was a tall frame that was best matched with black that was a perfected contrast with the paleness of his skin, while his hair seemed to find itself lost against the lapel of his jacket. A blue ascot because it reminded him of Italy and the waters so clear, and everything else seemed to fall into place. However, since the Italian Princess had last met the eyes of crazed madman much had changed upon him. If possible he seemed younger, with the deep lines of his face filled in (not with botox mind you..B is for Botox) and there was color nearly to his face. When asked his age many would baffle at the number accusing him for lies long told of numbers that were not his own How was it a man was closer to 50, but looked somewhere in the heart of 30. Yet, was it how he carried himself that now sat him apart? Long gone was the cane, though on days it was particular cold or he had been up for far too long the ruby found his hand, but the Master now moved with a step that had matched his younger years. Closing the distance between he and Princess he finished adjusting his collar before taking her hand in greeting, "Bonsoir..Ma Cher Fleur, how wonderful to see you again." A kiss then to her knuckles with a warm almost eerie smile. Pimp. (d

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

Eleanor was surrended from Atherton's arm with much regret, but he needed to take a moment to attend to other business. On her own she looked about the shop with a keen interest. So many colors, such beautiful designs! Attention settled on the Italian madame, and why not? For a moment she felt quite small, as a star in the presence of the sun for she was so fine and elegant. No doubt she was untouched by maudlin malady too. The Master grew flustered over her presence as if she were royalty (not knowing she really was) but it was not her affair so as any well bred girl she simply paid no long looks or took no notice. The noble played oblivion as well as they did theirmandolins. Julian came on her, his service undercut by his presence. Oh dear - this one had a beacon for lies. A veritable lighthouse for when the virtue of truth was abused, but she didn't go in to fits.Many didn't like her, really. She didn't blame them for such things in the blood made her ruined. Still, as the princess she'd been reared to be she gave a cant of head. "Yes, thank you. Before your Master sends us to supper, I should like to see any fabric you have of red or peach? I should like to have a dress made for my sister." She smiled, her eyes flicked only in their corners. This one didn't flirt with madness, or have occasional dreams. She was the Queen of the continent. Her saving grace was she had gained some control. If he got interested enough to push it - well. "Everything in here is beautiful."


Lady Janice deBrabant

"Master Laurence what a beautiful selection!" Oh one could not have timed it better that on such word spoken inside that without the footsteps of a fellow wide eyed woman who was the unfortunate benefactor of a large nose pushed aside blonde hair to gaze down at what was shown within a case. Closed for discretion's sake by the handler, she took it on behalf of her master. "Of course I will deliver it Madame. By all means rest you well, good eve to you.." She opened the door as what she held was a gift from a sister to a brother. it would be just like Janice to stumble in on a 'box' of suprises. (d)

Lady Ana-Catalina deCervillion

Julian's words and his lack of care with them met with only a stony blink of raven's wing lashes as they fell with a single blink. He was however, saved from the mental lambasting she was already extracting on him by the appearance of his Master. Seeing him properly attired gave her cause for another moment of levity. The brush to her knuckles done, the hand was retired into the clasp of the other. "Indeed it has. I wished to thank you, for your services to me and my House but haven't been able to properly do so." Steel in velvet. One had to been when one grew up in the most treacherous court of the world. "The new season is come upon us soon, and I wish to have new gowns commissioned. At your leave of course." He was a busy man, in more than one area of the world. Knowing this, she had another opportunity he might assist her with hopefully. (d

Julian Monroe

Julian's brows would raise as he gave a small little acknowledgement of her request and he would almost rock on his feet, but she really was waiting on an answer, "Well..unless you are color blind they are over there." With a motion
of his hand to the section that had the fabric, "You have only a few minutes. So be quick." From across the room Jean-Claude would frown, and shake his head mentally taking a note to scold this boy again. When Janice came in Julian went to the books to start packing them away, for her to review when she had a chance. It was her job after all wasn't it? -.-

Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine

There was a coy look he gave her then, narrowing his eyes with a small smile, "You are mocking me, Jolie..what a cynical sound." He smirked back a bit of laughter, "Was it because I did not wish for you to see me so? Or is it because you know I will ask for your company for dinner? Ah I see..you wish to thank me. Good. For a moment I was worried you had me figured out." Oh the horror! "Come now.." He offered her his arm, "Let us continue to this where candles are being lit, and fine wine is being served. Tell me how is your husband?" Survived the wound, but didn't die from my poison..shame really. Spoke a rather dark mind who was often easily overlooked as F..F for flamboyant. (d

Lady Janice deBrabant

She canted her head to Julian in both a greeting and silent appreciation for setting the books aside. What was his job? Annoying the populace? Being offensive? The daily range of dagger stares and hidden barbs became part of the tit-for-tat play of the last several years. " Good evening all. Excuse me, Master de Aquitaine? My pardon, before you progress too farHer Grace, the Master Laurence has sent you a gift she wishes me to convey to your hands." She lowered her body in the female form of genuflection, the curtsy, with nary a single hitch in gliding down nor a moment missed in the respectful lower of eyes.

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

She exhaled on a long, winding note, Eleanor did. Forgiveness as a Christian virtue was being forgotten. This was the first in a long while that made her desire to claw out his eyes until blood ran over his face. To marr that smug expression with bruises and fingernails. She closed her eyes, keeping secret the struggle by giving him a cant of head. Perhaps he will trip and smash his head a good knot it will gain, God will see that as fitting.. whispered the voices, dulled down to a soft roar by the soft fabrics to look at. Appease one sense, appease another. It was not for long though as dinner would soon be. She was quite capable of escorting herself, though suddenly missed Cedric a great deal. In a twist of irony his presence was very calming. Ah a new person was very distracting, and so was the beautiful Italian woman. The Master had saved her life so she'd do nothing to disgrace him nor her name(even if the vision of Julian smashed by a cart was rather appealing.) (d)

Lady Ana-Catalina deCervillion

Only the right corner of her mouth found its way upward. "His nature is as contrary as ever, for which I love him all the moreso for." That she loved her husband who was so many years her senior seemed an oddity in of itself. That she meant it was another. "Though I dare say by the slight level of your eyes you feel it somewhat a pity." Her words were just as polite as they were before, but there was once more levity there. The cool sort that so many Italians were famous for. Arm taken, that sleekly capped head of dark hair canted to one side. "I am ever at his side, which is why you find me here this evening. I have been charged to ... be among the people. So I am." And that was apparently that. For a handful of seconds the stoic nature was set aside for one of complete deviousness. "Tell me something, Jean-Claude why do you keep that most repulsive creature in your employ? I find I usually flog ones such as he at breakfast." Her tone was as carefree as a girl describing the most recent copy of fashion from France. "I hear it's good for the digestion you know." She was rather cold blooded herself. It was just hidden better. (d

Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine

It was rather intimidating to see such a sight as the pair of them standing together, the Italian Princess, and the French Lord what would come of such a world if only the rest knew their dirty little secrets. "Oh it is pity indeed." He spoke lowering his voice to a collected whisper with a small glint in his eyes of mirth. What a flirt. "Such pity to keep you a wife, and not a widow. I do love my women in mourning." His sarcasm alive with his jest, that perhaps only she would understand. Ana-Catalina was a well kept secret for many reasons, but it was her love for things the good book kept as sins that sparked life into this old crow. "Mindless admiration, Mon Cher, I do so like to be teased, and I have a rather fondness of collecting rare jewels." Speaking of which, one stood before him. "Lady deBrabant, here could tell you more of my horrid apprentice's manners then any. They just returned from Spain for research in various projects. I am not certain how she survived, or he for that matter. Lady deBrabant, have you met Her Grace? Lady deCervillion?" Somewhere in the shop Julian gave a heavy sigh, dangling the keys ready to push them all out--but especially that Princess. (d

Lady Janice deBrabant

Intimidation was staring at eternity over a Spanish cliff; in the presence of the Masters she had become accustomed their stoic faces, dry humor, and devious antidotes to life's problems. "We are not acquianted my lord, no, but I do recall seeing Your Grace in the home of the madame. Madonna, a pleasure to meet you formally," Where then she proceeded to express such delight in text book Italian yet with such soul one would fathom her a native speaker. That was how they survived Spain in half part, with Julian's formulas the other. After the welcome she returned to English, "It is good to be home again." She offered him the box once more for him to take from the Master. Jean-Claude was a collector of rare specimens: French, Italian, English, mixed variety. Julian looked with his usual impatience while the little woman in the corner looked as if she were half sad, half engaged in combat.

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

"Pardon me Master de Aquitaine, I should like to take the air now. You needn't wait for me." She gave a soft curtsy as to go collect herself. Did she barrel past Julian enough to make him have to catch himself on a wall for balance? Oops. "My apologies. Sir." All but sneered. Dear God - Let Julian fall headlong into an aquaduct. Eleanor.

Lady Janice deBrabant

Julian was trying to kill her on a daily basis. What could she do, scold him in to being nice? Not hardly. If any of them saw the true effect she had on him, they'd die. They'd build saint shrines (d)


Lady Ana deCervillion

A stiff chortle of laughter came then from pressed lips. "Perhaps weeds then will come into fashion?" Levity was something she could have ill afforded in her previous life. As of right now, she mostly led a cosseted life within a villa where she could tend her sick husband and count the days until her brother died. Hopefully a horrible and wretched death too. To be spoken to in her native tongue was like turning a knife which had been left to rust in her side. Bittersweet, yet poignant. "Madame. It is a pleasure to meet you." The oddity of the woman who more or less was given a wide mental berth simply because one should never insult or impune one who has been so touched was met with a brief stare of those mist gray eyes. Julian's dislike of hers was brushed aside as she might a fleck of dust. "I do have a rather fine whip you might borrow. Should you have the inclination." Not that she was saying he did. She was jsut offering. (d


Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

Weeds? His free hand came to comb through his hair for a moment as he was out in the wild today--far into the wild, nearly 30 feet from the city. "Oh come now. Tell Master Laurence that my birthday is not for another few months. To
stop." He did smile to Janice taking the box and just as he went to open it. However, Julian's words captured his attention.


Julian Monroe

"So you must be blind." He spat, dusting off his sleeve from the brush with the wall, "You ignorant rude girl." The ice of his eyes glared at the Lady Woodstock as if he could burn cold places into the back of her head. His fist balled up as if he would strike her if she wished to turn. (d


Lady Eleanor Woodstock

"I am not blind, I see far more clearly than you, because I see a waste of living space, dishonoring his Master. It is a shame. I have no desire to do the same. Abseloutly not." Not when he saved your life...Eleanor...not when he has done so much. Don't turn. Don't turn with crooked fingers and dig at his face until you find the bone. Inf act she had to hold her shaking hand in the other. "My apologies, my lord...a lady should not use such words." If he knew what was good for him he'd leave her alone, or they'd both be brawling in the streets, and Julian would be in prison!

Lady Janice deBrabant

"There is never telling Madame such things when she is of a mind." If he had a chance to open it, he would have seen a ruby ascot pin and a beautiful signet ring carved out of mixed red and black jade. Admiration over what was housed in the jewerly box was put away. Now, she had seen him insufferable..but she was aghast in palpable shock at this. He wouldn't..no God he would...he would! she thought he took me by the arm in spain..so hard..but he would not have hurt me... was she immune, or had she only purchased time? In the absence of a week from the sight of him during the day, had the small signs she'd seen in Spain increased with stress? He said he didn't want to go home..was this why? (d)


Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

All the air was pulled from Jean-Claude for what had been left to give anyway, and under the petite hand of Ana-Catalina every part of his arm hardened before he slipped from her grasp to close the distance between he and his apprentice.

Julian Monroe

Julian protested by not giving in, even in the shadow of his Master he hardly flinched, but this was not an act of dominance. He knew Jean-Claude could see him dead long before he ever finished the first punch. The could paralyze him with the tips of his fingers, and see through his soul with those matte black eyes. "Go upstairs." His voice was a hiss that was from the intake of breath that was pulled in as he seemed to pull the air from the shop, and with that Julian would give him his back as he made his way up into the second floor. Turning to Lady Woodstock, Jean-Claude, was not finished. For many years he had been the rock of every shadowing courtier, and all his life he had lived to the standards of the French court where many made the Lady Inveryne look like a saint. "In England that would have been dismissed, but here Lady Woodstock it is not. It is not a Lady's place to pick fights, no matter how tempting the troll may be. Is that understood? For his rudeness I apologize, and I will over look this incident due to his provoking nature. I also apologize on his behalf, but let it be known here I will not tolerate any of this in my house." Shop. Whatever. He did not mean to scold her, but he watched the push. Hell, he did not blame her, but this was what Claramae meant he protected Julian far too much. "Now Please. I am feeling faint. Let us have dinner. deBrabant..please join if you would, and tell Her Grace I am very pleased with the gifts." (d


Lady Eleanor Woodstock

She had humiliated herself far more than he could say, and his scolding only broke a part of her heart while another was still seething in red anger at the man who went up the stairs. She could hear his every footfall. She did not look at Jean-Claude as he admonished her like a common child. It was her fault, it really was, she shouldn't have let the start of the fit get the better of her. She was a Plantagenet. No matter what, she would always be royal blood. "I apologize, I do not mean to shame your house. Do not wait for me, sir. I would not be fit for you dinner table right now." Oh yes but she sent him upstairs. He was spared. But he was special and this was not England. No, here they said she'd be little lower than the king's blood siblings...his wife and their blood relatives came before. No, it didn't matter. Everywhere she went she'd never hide it. "I need to stop the voices," she whispered in abject humilitation before lifting her head like the royalty she always would be. Touched or not, she would have borne the son of kings...only..they sent her back. She stepped out in the air after that, the door softly shutting behind her.

Lady Janice deBrabant

"So should it please you sir, I would be honored to stay for supper, and I will convey your message." Only after the door shut did Janice gently lean in to say, "At supper, please, let her sit with me? Her Grace informed me of the heirs and...that must be Lady Woodstock, I take it." A reach of kindness. Oh her throat could pay forfeit.and they were both wrong, but something in her was just..beyond belief. Julian was many things, but that if Jean Claude had not been there. It moved a core of her soul.

Lady Eleanor Woodstock

A little while she would return. Yes, she was mad..but she was not all mad. She was good, kind. She was humerous, and endowed with more wit than most cared to look at.Poor, lost, kicked about heirs of England. Not that it would have mattered, she was neither a boy nor like Joan was she a Princess Royal. With a soft sigh she rubbed at her temple, gathering herself in stillness save for the little tear in the corner of her eye. All she wanted..was what they had. Just..life (d)


Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine

"Darling.." He called out after her in a soft voice, coming up beside the princess of England with a careful motion, "Do not take it so harsh. He is simply...a fool. I will punish him in ways that a lady should not hear. You." He reached to touch her chin, lift it so as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, "Are welcome here. You are home here. I simply feel I must correct you for if it not me, then it will be the Lady Inveryne..and trust me. You would rather it be me. Do not take so unkindly to my words, they are meant out of affection. My dear please..oh." The tear broke him, and he pulled her into an embrace, "Do not cry." Oh Julian was going to get it. "Come now..let us find some fabrics for your darling sister. Was it red you say she liked?" He would lead her tucked under his arm to the rows. (d


Lady Eleanor Woodstock

"How should I take, sir? I am ashamed of myself and the name I bare for doing such things. Perhaps this freedom isn't for me. I..I should not be so out so much. I have not met Lady Inveryne..they say she is very stern. There is nothing and no one on this earth..who can..correct me. Some things are too broken, but I will endevor better to control it? I could not live with myself to embarrass you.." She looked at him with watering eyes "Please..I am taking you from..from your supper." She followed him anyway. She had been doing so..so well to control it all! She'd never hurt anyone. Well, that wasn't true. No, now she remembered clearly every time she did.."What if Atherton had seen?" She went to look at the fabric, but her mind was broken an extra bit more. Oh she loathed Julian, perhaps even for a little bit he was lying about. He, too, was out of his mind. She even hated him for hiding it better. But she tried to look at fabric. At the very least...she could please the man that saved her life. Though sometimes..when she was alone..she wished the poison had just killed her (d)

"No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness." -- Aristotle