Post by Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine on Sept 20, 2010 8:58:42 GMT -6
Thy soul shall find itself alone..'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone -- Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy: Be silent in that solitude. Which is not loneliness -- for then The spirits of the dead who stood. In life before thee are again In death around thee -- and their will Shall then overshadow thee: be still. ~ Poe "
I.
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
Everything someday will die. Like the summer that comes to its end, it meets the death of the season, but with the Autumn of this year, we are given life in such a somber hour." Jean-Claude spoke to the youth of the country whose father's and mother's trusted the madness of a man only as far as able fingers could reach, but now it was before the Master did their bloodline listen. His voice was that of reason, well fruited labor that turned the imagination into brilliant displays of new ideas for future generations. Many traveled very far to hear his lectures, once the voice of many universities, and the last prayer for a once bright Oxford. "Do not think of it so dark, though hard to imagine it any other light when all the bright pastels turn to burnt hues of the season of the sun. Think not of the winter that is on the wind, but of Spring again." The seasons played a powerful part in all the roles of life, and in the mind of science there was none other then that of the quick death that came with the frozen winter. In all his glory, something of the man still seemed off putting, as if at any moment he would turn to stone and ash in the billowing wind that pressed against the chapel's doors. England had changed him, but not as a war would change a man, but it was the reverse. There was youth in his step, and in his closing statement sincerity to his smile. Hearts beat faster for they survived the lesson, and many wide eyed courtiers would never forget what voice did carry to memories far too short in the Frenchman's opinion. "We shall continue next week, but welcome to the new year." It was a new turn of the century in the little Isle of Scotland, as those of the Ebony Hall started to branch out just a little further in the public eye. (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
Hers had never been world of bright or dark, right or wrong. Since the first wail of breath until now it had all been a series of gray shades, and deniable accountability. Though she had been baptized long ago by the fires of intrigues grand to her by her Uncle, an apt pupil she had been found to be having escaped from Lithuania without the assistance of any other crown. Now it seems, they were all clamoring to support her. Who was she to trust, she asked of herself late into the night while her husband slept fitfully in the chambers next to hers. Having married a man who later in all honesty never dissuaded from his purpose in life. She loved him, with all of her romantically naive heart. It was unquestionable that he should lose his life, and she spent many hours on her knees before the pier de dieu begging God that it should not be so. Summer had proven to be both bane and boon to Seithfed and herself, but as the seasons moved onward, there came the Fall Dreads. Missives hastily written on scrap vellum, smudged from the road and sea made it into her hands if only to add to her constant weight of worries. Ferrara was already set to dispose her brother, with his own son to sit the throne of Naples and the whispers were that if possible he would also wed Juana right to his own son before her husbands body got cold. It was insufferable, but given the madness that was said to beset the current monarch of Naples, what choices did the people have? Most thought her long dead herself. What a shock it was, to learn of ones own demise! And scarcely was she able to draw air to breathe before she would learn that not only was she dead, but by some accounts a heretic. Indeed. What foul things her Uncle should spread of her. So it should come to those deeper shades of gray that she found herself seeking out once more the assistance of one individual who she had come to trust if for no other reason than he was as strange as he was intelligent. Knowing so little of his personal or public life made things easier for the literal minded Princess, though at times his wit was sharper than most knives. Appropriately attired for the late Summer, she was still a lark among so many finches out of place and owl eyed. Hands clasped and regally stiff one might have still thought her a dyed in the wool virgin rather than a wife of nearly three years. Amazing, that around her still clung that thin sheen of innocence for all the blood and gore she had seen spilled these long months past. Thankfully for her, the war had not yet touched her life so completely as it was about to. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
Their worlds were not so different as the sun and the moon, but somewhere between where the heavens blanketed the night with stars, and she the early morning rise of red that blushed away the moon. This Princess had indeed always been a deep intrigue for a mind that so rarely found a muse so inspiring. If he would return to his paints he would have painted his love of his Adelaide, but always thought of the moon as this little Italian Rose as she shaped it with his bare hands. He remained at the pulpit with his notes scattered over the oak stand, and suddenly wished his logic was as easily written as it was remembered--he would never make any sense of this mess of paper again.Never had the lectures been given so freely, or from such a fine gentleman and perhaps that was part of his own intrigue. What was it that beat behind every ounce of the finest silk, and perfectly fitted coat. He was a tall man, one of stout figure should any be given access to ever discover what it was under all the frill of noble birth's right to whatever he wished. It was strange to see him without his cane, though his steps still labored when he moved they somehow seemed as natural as the air that was often questioned to even exist that passed his lips. "Princesse chérie.." He acted surprised to see her though his voice was as ever warm and inviting, but like a fire perhaps it too burned when one came too close. "Of what is the pleasure?" Princess cherished was of another world, one that he often forgot about save for in his dreams at night. Closing the distance then between them, he would extend both of his hands--palm towards the heavens, there they were exposed and naked for her to touch; his scars only now a light silver over what would have been smooth skin. (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
Had she any notion of his thoughts no doubt they would have led to her own scarlet face and studdered speech. Since she was blissfully ignorant, she could cling to the ruthlessly cultured civility that life in the Italian court demanded. That she watched him these long moments was rather like a doe watching a hunter, wary but still curious and only when he took note of her person and came toward her could the civility melt into the genuine welcome of a close-lipped smile. "Master Jean-Claude." His French was flawless, but he was a Frenchman, so nothing but perfection was expected. "You seem to rest at home and ease amidst the pulpit. Perhaps you might have done well in the Church's stead." Though from the flicker of steel in those moon and mist eyes it was surely a jest to be saying so. Her own fingers were smaller, more delicate and blue veined. The finely crafted hands of a noble woman who would never be called upon to wash or scrub, to cull or cure. Squeezed gently, because really in those hands there was no cruelty. Yet. "I come to ask your advice and perhaps assistance in a more complex matter than that of the health of my husband." Sleek hair of ebony fell straight as a board save those which had been tamed by ribbon and hot iron. Simple, but giving olive cheeks the showing of the best advantage nodded that their conversation was one of the strictest confidence. That he might not have the time never seemed to pass through her thoughts. She was a Princess, and the time of others had always been hers to expend. Naturally, it carried over even now in her exiled state. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
He would smile, the sort that seemed to light him up with a life that had once been thought gone, and in this the age of his face did show in deep lines around his eyes. They were his badge of honor, or so his beloved had once told him--his mark upon manhood that only the greatest of minds would get. However, he still could not have felt it simply his face cracking with the rarity that was his smile. "I would have," He would cant his head with a bit of a smirk, "Save on this day I lecture of life and death not as how it was written in the book of God, but how it has been proven." Leaning in to whisper he squeezed her hands gently, "I shall burn in hell, but at least I will not be alone." He would let go of her hands only to offer stand apart from her as any well mannered gentleman would. Of course, he did not think she would be there in the fires of the world beneath their feet, but from the looks of it he started to wonder greatly. "Of course, Votre Altesse, but let it be known this building is only borrowed. If it is a matter of privacy then please..let us take to my tower?" In offering her his arm, he offered her an escape from whatever world she wished to leave behind, and of all on this Isle so few had the power to truly take advantage of what it was he offered. If they started on the path so too would she be returned to that of the spiral stairs of the master, and into the world that had once been his haven below the streets. It was a world he hardly shared, but now he was delighted to offer. The high vaulted ceilings of the tower came to a point, and from there large black cages that kept large black creatures made eerie sounds of wings beating in their desire for flight. He kept the ravens caged for many reasons, but it was their red eyes that watched the Princess his biggest reason. In the center of the room, the orrery was left half covered having been used the night before, and the large amber orb in the midst was still warm from work from the core. "Come..please take a seat. Can I get you anything?" He would seat her by the windows that for once were open so that the city flickered beneath them, and the distant sea seemed closer now that it had before. (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
His words, the scandal of them lent color to the apples of her cheeks but it went no further than that for she was of an astute mind who often questioned the purported infallibility of the Church. Thoughts could be one thing, but words against the Holy See would never have been spoken from her lips. Her people must always think she naught but a good Catholic and a faithful follower. Mentally applauding his candor of their lack of privacy, she acquiesced to being coached to another location where they might speak freely. That he would choose a place she had laid eyes upon but once should have been a given, yet the large cages and their occupants put a flicker of unease in her blood. Careful not to show her distress at their sanguine eyes, she sat at the offered chair but drew up one hand in a dismissive gesture. "Nothing, truly. I am well enough without aught at the moment." Clasped back into her lap, they laid there, those delicate hands while she leveled that regal gaze toward him. "News comes from the court of my brother at great expense I am certain to the sender. I seek your advice as to what I should do, if anything regarding this message." Though young, she was one to approach the very heart of a matter as bluntly as possible. Intrigue of person was one thing, but she disliked heartily the intrigue of speech which so many courtiers were so skilled in. It was perhaps a fatal flaw. "Tell me, Jean-Claude, were you in my position, would you attempt to coup the throne of Naples? Without army or money to do so?" It was a wild thought, wasn't it? Yet, from the serious cast of her features she was not jesting this time around. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
It was not uncommon for Jean-Claude to escort beautiful women through the streets, but for their destination it was already a buzz with the circulation of scandal. This was the tragedy of a royal court, but really he did love to laugh on the matter. The hall was of the only that one could speak so freely that they could question even the existence of Christ at the top of their lung if the desire so wished to be present. However, his tower was that of complete and total solitude. He would undo his ascot only enough to let it hang around his neck a freeing gesture for a man that covered nearly every inch of his body, and even in this small undoing he seemed rather..out of place. Yet, it was the way his hair draped over his shoulders, and around his face that caused the illusion of his relaxed nature. At first he had thought the idea of drinking on this night inappropriate, but her words had him uncorking the bottle of wine as he made his way to take a seat, and pour their glasses. "Would I go and try to take the Italian crown, from perhaps the most passionately constructed army there is to date without any means or money.." In his return of her question perhaps there was in fact his answer, but then when he took his glass in hand he would sit back in the arm chair with a look that any arrogant French Lord would have. "My Dear..what is it you are thinking of doing?" (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
Every fiber of her being was poised for something great, it was just that she had neither idea nor inclination of that greatness. That he poured wine, and sat with such a blunted question was something she could only be grateful. Coaching her words carefully, with a fanning of fingers against silk clad knees, those eyes bore into him. "I have been asked if it is possible that I attempt to take the throne of Naples from my brother before my Uncle has the opportunity to do so himself for his own son, Cristiano. There is rumor that he would wed Juana, my brother's wife and current queen to his own son to solidify the Duchy of Milan into his grasp." They were talking whole countries, not simply little principalities along the City-State borders. What had been so subtly suggested to her seemed so enormous, so was it any wonder that she ask this man his opinion? He was a man of new thought and ideals, some of them seemingly far fetched. "It is not to say that I could not take the throne, but I could not do so by sheer force. It would have to be, more subtle than that." This little Italian Rose was blood thirsty in her own right, and was not above the assination of her own blood kin to see it so. In fact, it put a rather healthy glow into her features. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
He listened to her carefully, placing words with actions and the rawness of how passionately she spoke of this. It was a pleasure of his to read into her, drink of her by ways of only connecting to the will in her voice. Really. She was absolutely fascinating, but for what reason did she truly want of his crown? Jean, could relate to her desire of blood, but none like the dark wings that moved back and forth in their cages, their talons holding tightly to the bones of fingers of men who deserved to die. (Perhaps a few that didn't.) This was his proof of the wickedness that removed him from his bloodline, and those matte nearly black eyes of his would connect with hers, "Ana..let me ask you this." The use of her Christian name had not been given to him with permission to use it, but Jean-Claude took of it because of what she asked even in advice?..gave him the right. "This world was born by force, but not by sword. If anything I have learned in this life, I can have anything that I want, whenever I wanted it, because I have the will to get it. Is this what you are truly wanting from me? You did not come here to ask me to help you get it, no..you would not have to ask, you know this. You came to ask of me my thoughts and my opinion on if you should try..but Ma Chère Princesse Passionnée..is this something you feel is right? Do you want it?" His words held so much conviction in them that if she truly wished it, he himself would go to Italy and get it for her. (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
Mist and moon, her eyes held just enough gray and blue intermixed to make cool. But it was that passion for her people, not so much the crown that warmed the mercurial depth of them. "How can I not be moved by the desires of my people?" That such a weight would rest on so young a set of shoulders was not uncommon in the theatre of the world. That she would be so devout in her care spoke more to the heart of who she was, rather than what she had been born to. "My husband has no wish to return to Italy. Ever. But I can not leave my people to wallow beneath the vile cruelty with which my brother holds his throne. He is mad." She had loved him once, when they were children and her brother was more carefree, more innocent of his own blood and the ill humors that boiled within it. "If not I, then my uncle will surely rule in Italy and I will not be safe, even here in Skye. It is not a question of my own desire to hold a throne for the power of it, but for the ability to hold my uncle's insatiable hunger for power at bay." She was attempting to control her revulsion for the man but it leaked through in a gross syrup of her words, the bitter after taste evident by the every changing light in her eyes. "I wonder, if perhaps it might not be the best interest of the world if my uncle did not live." How often had he tried to kill his niece did perhaps lend to her ill air of him. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
If she would ever think for a moment that he did not have a heart they would all be proven wrong, for it beat wild against his chest though not an ounce of its lack of control showed in his features. "If you go, your husband would follow. Let us not think that for a moment that I'm granting you my opinion of you leaving without him, or you leaving at all." In this he would lean back against the back of the arm chair with the heavens opening up in his storm cloud of thoughts. He was silent for a good moment, seeming to turn to stone as even his breath seemed to disappear, but when he broke from his thought he would lean forward like a spider from its web, "Your uncle would have to get through me first." Jean-Claude was uncertain of what to tell her in truth, but already his mind went over going to Italy on a 'Buyer's trip' for the shop--it was long overdue. A very large part of him wanted to protect her from what she was talking of, to tell her it was foolish and turn her away, but something in those misty grey eyes nearly melted him to the core. Lord let them all hope she did not bare children, for he would spoil them rotten as his own grandchildren no less. "Perhaps then the next move, would be to speak to Master Laurence. Let us tell her of what is going on, and see if we would have her blessing to act. With that, Ana-Catalina we would have the force needed to take back your crown, but without? Well..I could at least promise you the death of the once future king." He covered her hand gently, talking of death and murder somehow brought life to him, where as to others it would kill them stone dead with fear. (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
Murder and death were such an ingrained part of her upbringing that the way he spoke of it seemed as if he were asking if she preferred lemon or honey in her afternoon refreshment. It was certainly nothing out of the ordinary to her, but then she was that odd breed of Italian that secretly enjoyed the debauched seediness of having enemies carved into gory pieces. That sickness she could blame squarely on her uncle. Couldn't she? His palm was slightly cooler than her own hand, which she patted briefly with her other by way of showing that she understood his full support of her. "My uncle is a wily man, which means I must employ the more devious means with which to thwart him. Do I not?" For once, the civility of her noble birth melted and she was just for this brief span of time a young girl still, the fresh blossom of vitality sitting on her like a gossamer sheath. "This mistress of whom you speak I am highly doubtful of. She was once in the employ of the Duke. Is she seriously to be trusted?" Having no greater network of intelligence, she had only to rely on Jean-Claude. It was another stark testament to her naivety. "Seithfed would follow, but with the most gross of profanity. My husband is not so subtle in his desires or speech." Which made her color and laugh, a most joyful note that died abruptly. As if she were attempting to keep a secret that she could laugh. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
When he pulled his hand away he would cover his lips to keep back the small grin that had captured his mouth. "The Master at whom I speak of can be trusted as if she were family. I would not offer it if she was not." Where Jean-Claude seemed the very being of death, Claramae was in fact colder. Of the two that nearly ran the entire Ebony Hall, Jean-Claude was the one who they all sought out for help, because he was the more pleasant natured of the pair. "Ma cher..Master Laurence, who is in fact employed by the King, would be the connection we need to the Griffin Army if this should require that service. Now, if you simply wish him dead well.." A bare hand that had once always been covered would motion towards the cages above them, where the red eyes of the ravens watched, "There is a world here in this hall, Princess, that you know nothing about, but I can reassure you. Lord General is not the only one who leads a deadly force able to take nations." In fact, Maahes's army was the cover to a much deadlier cause. "Do you still think me a simple dress maker? By now, Ana-Catalina, I would think you not question my resources." Jean-Claude brought his hands together before them, "Your husband, would be wise to support your cause, his language and all. I doubt it would be his desire to see you killed." Ruffled feathers indeed! (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
That he would vouch for the woman whom she had met but once and had been unsettled ever after. "My family is full of those whom I can not trust. but if you consider her family, then I shall trust her." She trusted no one related to her other than her husband, and he only by marriage so he was not blood. At least she had not suffered to marry a cousin or some other equally odd relation. Crowns and Thrones, those were the only thing that had mattered to her uncle, so it had been surprising that he allowed her to marry the man. Later she found out why. Looking toward the cages, and the Princess saw not for the first time that there was indeed a deeper shade of gray within the world that until now had been larger outside her perview. "I have known a great while now that dress making not to be that which drives your mind, Jean-Claude. It is perhaps why you are fascinating to me as you are fearsome." Another smile now, a hint of upward curving lips and lightening of those eyes. "Seithfed has no desire to see me killed, nor to leave this island." When had first been married it had been a wonder he had let her out his sight! (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
"Ah, but he must understand." Leaning over the arm of the chair, Jean-Claude, made himself as close to her as he could without seeming inappropriate. "No man can keep a heart with wings grounded, Mon cher..You were born into this role. It is as much a part of you as those beautiful eyes. It is who he married, and if he so wishes for you to remain that is the same as asking the sun to never shine. Now.." He would correct himself urging her to enjoy the wine, "It would be wise for you to spend this time relaxed as best you could, and know that it is within good hands now." Adelaide would kill him, but this was also what she loved in him was it not? "Are you in so much danger that we should perhaps move you and yours here within the halls? Or should I simply post guards?" (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
She could not help but laugh, if only those bright peels for a handspan of time once more. "He understands, but does not like my person to be in more danger than is necessary." When her face sobered it was because for once, she had not confided all that was afoot to her dearly beloved husband. He was sick, and unable to protect her so she must not only see for herself, but also for his own protection. That she had a soft spot for the Welshman was a given. "You have perhaps more confidence than I, when it comes to my role in the world and what my destiny might be." Once more then vulnerability of her youth crept its way into her features, her voice. "I was but Queen for a brief moment, and even then, I did not do much ruling." Brushing aside her brief ascendency to the pinnacle of the Neopolitan monarchy with a mere wave of one delicately fingered hand she took up her wine and sipped more heartily at it than perhaps she should have. "I do not know the extent to which my Uncle can reach. That is to say, I know no what danger I, or my husband is in." Which really wouldn't do at all. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
He would laugh then, a delightful sound that would cause him to shake his head lightly, "My dear. I'm far too confident then one should be at my age so do not put too much faith in that idea. Sometimes I am reminded at how old I am, but know this. This Hall holds many men who are willing to die for beauty as yourself. A Queen if only for a day," He put his hand to his chest thinking about the deepest secret that this man could go, and how it warmed his heart to think of the lovely Lady Avalle. It did seem to be a trend to him to collect such an appetite for beauty, his collection of hands more then willing to be offered. He was French after all..."I must ask just as I did the first night we ever stepped foot inside this Hall, that all be kept from the world outside, as you see we here are not at all what we seem." He went silent for a moment, "I do know that I would wish for you both to be close. I will send for your husband soon, if it would please you. Perhaps, send Julian in the morning to fetch your things?" All the world he offered to her, he would hand her his heart if she so pleased, and leave it Jean-Claude to offer all of his secrets to a pair of pretty eyes..damn them and their way of melting the shadow! He would stand then to rise, hearing steps coming up the stairs, and excuse himself to find Master Laurence knowing the light set of footfalls to be that of his apprentice. When Jean-Claude would rise the birds in their cages would start to move swinging the cages back and forth with their unsettling nature, and in the room now empty of the Master's presence they would start to call.
Young Master Julian Monroe:
Julian would not be far behind in the door, opening it just before the bone of a hand came down crashing at the feet of the darling Princess. Would she be frightened? His eyes were as cold as ice, and as pale as the winter's sky. He had outlined features that seemed nearly ethereal, and away from the stress of the shop he seemed a bit more pleasant in looks alone. Julian Monroe was an apprentice not only of the Shop, but here as well. He would be one of Claramae's only successors when his time was finished, and was better suited the part of gentleman when it mattered the most. "Are you alright?" When he was not so cross his voice wasn't hardly as mean sounding, and rather soft spoken. (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
"Advanced age or not, beauty does not a good ruler of a country make. And wisdom is not often found in the impetuousness of youth." Noble words, but she believed them. After all, it was not as if her metal as a ruler had ever been tested before, had it? Schooled as she was, there was no hiding the quicksilver flash of eyes. "You may indeed send for my things, but as for my husband do not think he shall come docilely." Another handful of hearbeats, and a burst of renewed honesty. "He does perhaps not like you overmuch, Jean-Claude." As to why, she wasn't certain. Perhaps because he was French. Very, very, French. That she might ask Jean-Claude to forgive her husband's surly natured died in her mouth, like so many ashes in a fire. Seithfed wasn't quite at his best, given his injuries and his own smoldering depression and worries. All she could do was make best of the situation. That her thoughts turned as he got up and left her presence was the cause for the sheer volume of naked shock on her features when those avarian little monsters began to flap about their cages. Though she had seen men in several states of decay and death, nothing quite did it like a disembodied hand right there at one's feet and she stonily regarded Julian with a raised brow and a closing of those olive and rose features. She had asked Jean-Claude why he didn't flog the man, so the chill in his regard did little to change her opinion of him or his insolence. "Fine. Do be so kind as to remove that ... thing." The toe of her slipper touched the hand, as if to reassure herself that it would not move of its own accord. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
"Oh..do not tease me, Mon Cher." Jean-Claude spoke in the door with his hand on his heart and the devils grin. "I should like very much for that challenge." Of course he was jesting, but then would leave Monroe with the Princess.
II.
Young Master Julian Monroe:
In the matter to which they spoke Julian did in fact look as though he been flogged a few times, but thus was the hardship of his training. However, in this moment any open feature that had perhaps started to be a bit more understanding and welcome quickly closed, "Oh forgive my manners, Princess, but normally when we make demands we say please." How quick he was to remind her that he was not a servant here, nor would she treat him as such. Behind Julian's startling blue eyes there was a mind unlike any other on the isle. Within a matter of seconds he could count the beat of her heart, multiply, and divide it before she would be able to turn him away..if he were close enough. "Be thankful they have been fed once today." Jean-Claude's Blood Raven's were the product of pure evil for this he was certain because in truth there was a monster inside Monroe that kept a red ring around his tired eyes that were nearly black around the lids. When he would move to pick up the hand, he would use a rag to do so, and look over his shoulder at her when he put the hand upon the table. "Are you afraid?" Her fear was like music to him, and in a twisted sort of way pleasure. He would not wait for her answer before he went about the task of covering the rest of the Orrery and cursing Jean-Claude for being so careless. Finally he would turn to face her once more, and in his dry tone.."I am to escort you to the Hall..wouldn't you please..do me the honor." Sarcasm thick there, Monroe.
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
Somewhere in the hall, Jean-Claude went to Claramae as only he could, and opened his heart then to the matter at hand until she would be forced to rise with promises of new dresses with the finest silk. "I shall buy you that pony." Always worked for Genevieve did it not? "Please come. Here her out, but I go with or without you." In his very French fashion he would wave his hand, but something in that tone told her he was not above begging on this matter. (d
Master Claramae St. Laurence:
"Jean-Claude how old do you believe me to be? New dresses, a horse? By heavens man I have enough fortune to by enough horses to be shameful to any stable and have more dresses than even your hands could fashion." Book was closed,ah stoic mathematics. Why could not more people see the beauty in numbers that didn't be have as people? Euclidian phrases waltzed with the grace of dancers to music in ancient halls as all was thrust away for business. He would have not come to her with such offerings beyond jest or nervous waves of hands if it weren't important. "I shall be ready in a moment, I can not recieve the woman in my retiring clothes." She waved away her maids however after a suitable gown in plum was pulled out of the wardrobe in what else but a style fashionable in Venice? This was done on purpose so she could tie but the simple sleeves to allow the chemise underneath to be shown through. Hair was brushed, braid twisted, and all of it up pinned save for the last leg that hung over right shoulder. "Mmm." She paused, but refused to take the cane. She bowed down to it yestereve, not tonight. She would war with God over this matter until it was resolved. But be damned, she left that room looking as only Madame Death could. Exquistite. "Come, child.." she beckoned to Janice. One last moment of tenderness as the stoic features moved not but the hand lifted to touch her face "Find some delight tonight, yes? You are still too young to go blind. The library is in beautiful order, both the orders and my own, we want for nothing in the accounts and by heaven my laboratory has never been better stocked. Find some delight."
Young Master Janice Viscreed:
"Yes.." She promised with a cant of head but unknowing to them Janice would only move to the rooms that had been hers to arrange the particulars of a fantastic order that had been placed with a jeweler for a gift that was indeed her 'delight'. (d
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
Though one would never know it, she did indeed feel a shiver of fear. Yet, as the niece of the Duke of Ferrara, she knew horror well. "Simply put, no. I am not afraid of such things." This from a young woman who spent her childhood years before the Audience of the Dead. One bone picked hand would not unsettle the likes of her. House of Aragon and Princess of Naples indeed. The cur. "Where I am from, people know their place. But here, here it is a different matter where not all are as they seem and those who are as they seem are not so." Chin tilted upward, those mist and moon eyes now only steel, only cold. Only Royal. Rising from her seat, she didn't even flinch at the telltale squabble of one of the cage's occuptants as it thrust itself outward. Never show fear. Always be graceful and poised. She could clearly still hear her mother's voice, even after all this time. Regarding him with frosty indifference she spoke once more before turning away from him as though to give him that oh-so in your face cold shoulder. "You are so kind to escort me to your Master. Now." This, this from a womachild of nineteen! If it weren't for her birth, one would have to wonder just who she thought she was. She would wait for him to open the door, allowing them to go down into the Hall where she would once more face a woman who unsettled her as she did intrigue her. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
"I know, Ma Diamant, but it would not be the same as a gift. Besides. There iz no body who know your curves as I no? Remind me tomorrow to look at your back." He would look down the bridge of his nose at her as if he were wearing his glasses, but as she left through the entrance he would escort Janice to the meeting room where all the chairs were waiting by a warm fire. "Ma Ange', Tomorrow evening will you do the honors of being my escort to dinner. I have something of importance I wish to speak to you about, but of course in a more private setting." What alone in a room with only an open fire wasn't good enough? He would bend to kiss her forehead gently, and his heart would swell with the pride of how truly proud of her was.
Young Master Julian Monroe:
If he had offered his arm he was thankful she didn't take it, for to stomach her touch was like asking a child to eat their greens. However, half way down he would almost worry about her on the stairs and extend his elbow to her to take. "Be careful..it is a long way down." Something wicked almost eerie in his eyes that was not of his own looked back at her, from this man that was far too thin. Julian had demons inside his chest that clawed their way to the surface and scratched the back of his ribs, "All the Kings horses and all the Kings men couldn't break that fall." It was a startling way down, and when they reached the bottom he would show her the way into the meeting room.
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
Jean-Claude, was waiting there by the hearth now burning warmly in its core, and he would smile openly to Julian and the Princess, "May I present the Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples, from the house of Aragon. Your Grace, this is the Lady Janice Viscreed, and my apprentice you already know, Julian." When Claramae would make her entrance he too would introduce her, and soon come to stand off the shoulder as she took her seat, like some gothic era painting. "Welcome."
Young Master Julian Monroe:
In his small moment of escorting the Princess he would offer a flicker of his eyes to Janice, and when he stood alone he would touch the small silver sparrow he wore on a strap around his neck. (d
Master Claramae St. Laurence:
"My lord if you were not my brother, I would be offended by your commentary.Thankfully you are my brother, and French." Thus the solution summarizing every action, every dress style, every flamboyant turn of his genorisity. Wasn't it true, though? Aside from her husband he knew her body as no man should. Cutting with knives in the same way he cut the fabric that confined the curves of perfection aged like fine wine. So it came to reckon if one hardly expressed emotion before the public one might look as she. Frozen in time lost despite her age. An entity unknown.
Young Master Janice Viscreed:
Janice would have to her room yet the hands of the Frenchmen captured her to bring her hence "It would be my honor, Monsieur, to eat and to speak with you. It is an honor to merely be in your presence again." The kiss to the forehead of a still golden vessel. Spain refused to leave her skin, the brightness of her hair. Did he draw in the sun refusing to set though they lived in suspended midnight? She felt honored to be escorted to such affairs as they held. In truth, idolatry never died even if it was a sin. She defamed the pedastool he placed her own but he was higher still beside Claramae sat in her temple, with Sorschal, Vance. Inveryne. Peregrine. Why, the only thing that was higher, that North Star climbing was the secret glimmer from heaven. The candles in her altar. The name in her prayers. "Your Highness, good evening." In contrast to Monroe, Viscreed held the baring of a coutier on par excellance. "Good evening, Monroe."
Master Claramae St. Laurence:
As from the sun toward the black-purple abyss of the infinite. Silent steps her signature as the Madame came among them, lowering in to the posture of respect, "Your Highness, we are honored by your presence once more. I see Master de Aquitaine has introduced you to our Lady of Letters, one of my two successors." Janice did not kill as her vocation by hand, it seemed that hand too much already knew, and it was too holy. The ungloved, white digits that lifted a bit of Venitian artistry however commanded the deaths of many by the hour. God help them if she enacted to do it herself. "I hear there is some matter to which I may be of assitance, my lady?"
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
It was just as well because she found the possibility of his touch almost as abhorrent as he did hers. There are certain dislikes one learns only by having survived such ... fires. A fall down a flight of stairs being one she had already survived. It was perhaps another reason she loved her husband. He had after all, broken her fall down a headlong flight of stairs when she had recently come to the isle of Skye. Those unaffected cool eyes looked once more at Julian as if she were seeing past the demons there, toward his soul. Even if that soul might have a few rents within it. "A fall would no doubt be a pity for myself, and a swift way to see to your own death, Master Julian. How kind of you again to offer your arm." Which she did not take, but rather simply went down as calm as a gently bubbling brook. The sooner she was away from him, the sooner she wouldn't feel the need to wash her spirits in prayer. That was for a certain. Regal in the Flemish saia which was a deep burnt amber, she nodded briefly toward the Lady Viscreed. "I believe we have met, but briefly. Good evening." Those cool, cool eyes of hers beneath the fan of lashes turned then toward the woman she had by way of Jean-Claude sought out. She seemed just the same as she ever had but the spidery tingling at the back of Ana-Catalina's neck told her she was a woman that one could ill afford to anger. "Indeed he has done the introductions. I am ever grateful for Master de Aquitaine's discretion in many things." She felt stony, that heavy bearing of limbs that refused to move as she wished them to. "Forgive me, Madame that I seem abrupt. I recall once that my Uncle made some remark as to you having been in his service, so I have at Jean-Claude's insistance decided that I shall extend my trust from him to you." Grudgingly so. But if it were for the greater good, what harm could there be? Unless she is my Uncle's creature after all. Thrusting doubt aside, and with the formalities at an end, she could seat herself. (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
"It was kind of me, thank you for pointing that out. Also, let me point something out." He turned on her very quickly, "Its Master Monroe in these halls. You haven't earned the right to call me by my Christian name, and so help me if you are going to school me on the proper way to act, then perhaps you should take from a few of your lessons." He hissed at her in his wayward manner before moving into the room.
Young Master Julian Monroe:
"It is a most dire situation indeed, Master Laurence." Jean-Claude would take the floor then pulling on the mask he wore well that no matter the comfort level in the room he kept things formal, and direct where Claramae was concerned. "It appears the crown to which rightfully belongs to our Princess is at jeopardy, and though I do not wish for it to be as it was in England. I feel that our aid is important?" Why? Because she was beautiful, and he did think fondly of her--he had no sound proof, just do not ask. "Her life as well as her husband's is in danger and I request that they be moved to safety. I also request that we send scouts to Italy to survey the actions going on around the crown." He would brush back his shoulders taking a seat back at his chair before looking over to Claramae, "I have a colleague in France who is in dire need of employment. Perhaps now is the time to replace Monroe at the shop so that we can free up his time. He would like Italy." Julian's eyes grew wide as he took a step back nearly pleading with Claramae, "Of course..only if you wish to end his training." It gave Claramae the out, if she so wished it, and proof Jean-Claude deep down truly didn't trust his own apprentice. (d
Master Claramae St. Laurence:
"You need not make apologies, your Highness. In return of your frankness I shall be the same. Your uncle had me within his employ when the area was to be surveyed, to see if its worth was worth the cost of such service. His being is lacking, and in attempt of absence he tried to take what was not his. Your seeking of service is obvious enough for me to say that if I could have killed him then, things would have gone better I see. I had the chance again, but I would not sully their majesties hallowed halls with his corpse when here he resided some years ago on your first arrival." Plainly recieved, plainly spoken. She put her hands in her lap with back erect. A baron's daughter born, two bloods noble and now a Duchess of this state in her own right. What was she of others? Titles were little important. On the rising she listened to Jean-Claudes assesment of the situation "It is suitable, this request, for long has the situation of Naples been a mental puzzle in my brain, for if its current ruling goes unchecked, after the actions of Spain you may see spain embolned to go for Naples or, you will see a Naples made enough to engage in the Lord knows what. You have my services, Madame. I have connections in Italy that can be easily moved, and will back them with my collegues from the holy Roman empire. This is now the seat of a grand thing, the Order of Roses has fallen to to me, so I join it with the Talons. Ancient to the new." Yet on the matter of Julian, a shake of head "Master de Aquitaine, his training will go on, one does not learn how to build Rome in a few hours of a few days. As you know, Monroe is the second of my successors." There, it was said, "We will always be as Masters, Grandmasters but he will go places and the Lady of Letters will do things, as with the others now in our care that we will not be able to. He shall remain. I will have Voltaire arrange four to go in his stead. We will infiltrate as the most graceful courtier and strike as lions .Of course, your highness, you will need to tell us all to assay our plans." He did not trust and fickle minded he was. God, so much like her own brother...Percival yet his scars were not incurable. Only the boy had been beaten too long and then held back. Spain had proven something. He may have been odd but he was not off. He needed fine tuning. Oh ample fine tuning but as with Naples, Julian was a challenge. When had Madame ever run from that?
Young Master Janice Viscreed:
Janice worked hard to remain impassive. To her credit she did well, rubbing only at the place where the Sparrow lay, how strange her own could be viewed for it was a trinket, a memory. She did not want them to send him to Italy. No she did not want them to send her husband away! At times she detested this infernal secret - if they knew, what then? She only remained seated with prayer to God given that Master Laurence was determined to train him properly. A master's determination, her saving grace.
Master Claramae St. Laurence:
"If you could find help for your enterprises, Master de Aquitaine, that would be good. When I to Northampton take for a little time to see the estate, I should wish to have Julian from time to time come hence and go back again. As you know, de Aquitaine and now you, your highness. Monroe was privy to th einner workings of the new Spanish court. There could be information there which you, being of that house, may need and us, we may use as bartering tokens.
Princess Ana-Catalina of Naples:
"Had a decent surname by which to call you, I would have." A shrug of shoulders, the pithy act of highborn Nobility. "But as you say, Master Monroe." The English sound of his name different somehow on an Italian tongue. Silk skirts swept aside to trail just over the ends of his boots had her nicely settled and the conversation well underway as her thoughts turned and turned like a coin in hand. Bluntly spoken, bluntly answered. She had a large amount of respect for that. "As you say, Madame. My thanks. No doubt should you have gone along with his endeavors, I would not be standing here today." Because it was for a certain Alphonso would have set the Lady to working upon his niece. But then, he was not the only one who hated her with such heart. Listening to them debate the cause and affect of their tentative venture she held her own breath when it was suggested that the uncanny Master Monroe potentially go into her country. Yet, her worries were unfounded as it seemed he would not, but it did not take a great student to notice the Lady Viscreed and Master Monroe were of smiliarily tense natures regarding his possible departure. How odd. It is as if she may have a care for him? Really my husband was quite right. There is a soul for every one lost among the reeds. Waxing thoughts of poetry aside, she came about the matter rather quickly. "My cousin would only dare invade Naples if he felt the need from the people. As the people are not content with my brother being on the throne it is a possibility, however, he does not know that I live. My previous stay in Lithuania and my Uncle's false reports of my demise make certain of this." There was no relaxation of her posture, no softening of her words. Just the up and down lilt of Vesuvius in her speech. "If we are to go about this, I am set not only to dispose of my brother for the good of my people, but also my Uncle. His duchy will pass to my cousin, Cristiano who I am certain would be amendable not only to that, but perhaps an alliance with the current crown here. If I am assured safety, then it is possible I shall assume the throne." Which was certainly a mouthful and she could almost hear her husband cursing her for being headstrong. "I endeavor this great thing, because I have no coin to pay an army and my being dead to the world's theatre certainly plays to a greater advantage than my living." She seemed quite lively for a dead woman, didn't she? (d
Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine:
Jean-Claude would listen with his heart on his sleeve, and when Ana was finished he would quickly come to look to Claramae with eyes that told stories of how he would beg for her assistance. "It could be done without an army..if we are careful. A few select hits would require our most professional assassins..but then I see the danger. What if they are traced back to us? Then we would have another war on our hands, and though it is hard we can not play peace keeper to the entire world." He was both telling Claramae and Ana. "First thing is first let us secure you here, that way you can rest." She needed it very badly, "Monroe, will you please see to it the Princess has a room, and if she pleases send for her husband?" Jean-Claude would stand then, "He will require a carriage. Viscreed, will you find Mouse and bring here to me so that I can assign her to the Princess for the time being."Jean-Claude was putting his foot down on this, dang it. AC was going to have a Lady's Maid if it killed him. "Now if you all will excuse me, I have contacts to try and reach." (d
