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La Rose Sauvage
A huge hearth of black marble, with gargoyles of stone adorning the mantlepiece, governs the foyer of the Salon de la Rose Sauvage, which emanates a certain dark air, the interior design of the more heavy sort, that could easily be encountered in a gentleman's club, especially with the dark cherry wood wainscoting used on the walls. Dark leather upholstery is predominant in the furniture of chaise longues, couches and long-backed chairs that are arranged in a half-circle, leaving space in the center for courtesans (or patrons) to kneel for an inspection. Three tall windows with circular stained-glass insets are framed by dark red curtains of heavy brocade, a few golden threads worked into the fabric catching occasionally the light of flickering oil lamps at the walls. The lamps light a pair of portrait paintings, of the two founders of the salon, Edouard Shahrizai and his cousin Annabelle no Mandrake, resplendent in their dark Kusheline appeal; and a cabinet in a corner, holding a number of quality wines and a flagon of uisghe.%r%rThe foyer has a high ceiling, and a gallery beyond a balustrade of dark teak wood, carved in the shapes of gargoyles. Sometimes a few veiled creatures can be spotted up there, stealing glances at what is going on below; from the gallery, which can be reached by ascending some winding stairs at the back of the foyer. Beside the stairs leading up is a hallway on ground level, leading further into the building to where the offices of the leader of the salon and his two Seconds can be found, along with the two wings of private quarters for roses of Mandrake and Valerian canon.
Late night it is, already moving towards the earliest hours of morning. Only few people would be outside at this hour, even less so as it is raining, and so Séverine seems to be on her own, just taking a last round about the salon to make sure there aren't any patrons lingering there. Her hair with that faintly reddish color to it has been gathered and bound in a knot, pale skin contrasting to the dress of dark red silk, she is wearing tonight. The marque is on display, as it so often is, unless there are blemishes that need to be covered, and the courtesan pauses to gather a goblet from a table, her own perhaps, she had left there earlier. Her gaze becomes a bit pensive as she takes a sip, lips curving at a thought or particular memory, who can tell?
Night is usually when Gauge comes into the Salon, but he has never come in /this/ late before. The man is actually wearing clothes this time for once, the long captains coat is pulled up with a high collar to protect his neck and the sides of his face but beneath the coat is where it's actually unusual this time. A long sleeved white button up shirt is worn, and it is even buttoned up near to the neck displaying only a bit of the musculature there high on his chest, it also makes the scar on his throat that gives him his lovely singing voice stand out, the silvery skin a line across his throat where someone at one point tried to take his head off. How many men can survive getting their throat slit? Gauge apparently can, or did, the silvery scar contrasting his sun bronzed skin almost beautifully. Over the shirt is a black leather vest that is immaculate, the leather is glossy, shining, silver threadwork so perfect it looks like actual silver was used to bind the seams. The threadwork is designed to look like a rope that is tied into various knots that are used aboard ship for rigging and otherwise. The vest only buttons in two spots down near his waist over his lower abs and belted at his waist is his sword, the basket hilted broadsword gleaming silvery contrast to his black pants that are of the finest cloth that isn't silk. The pants tuck into his calf high boots with the tops folded down, and they are polished as well.
It is a different kind of dangerous that he presents tonight, his long black hair soaking wet but the coat keeps the rest of him mostly dry. "Towel." He grates out to one of the attendants in a commanding tone and there isn't long before he has received one with which he uses to dry his hair as best he can so it isn't /dripping/ at least before he opens his coat to display the rest. "Wine." comes next and he swipes a glass off a tray with the tips of his fingers over the lip and then lifts it to take a drink.
Only then does the Baron de Beaucare take a look around.
Some sleepy adept may have lingered at the front, and is now brought back to attention by the curt commands given. A towel is provided and the cloak accepted and placed over the back of a chair before the hearth, and a glass of wine provided soon after. But this latter gesture of hospitality is provided by Séverine instead of the adept, she dismisses with a nod towards the hallway at the back. "My lord," she greets, offering the wine to Gauge with a curtsey, her grey eyes considering him with surprise and curiosity. "Won't you come into the parlour, you look like you have some urgent business bringing you here…" Making her own guess when observing his mood, so different from what she had seen on him at other occasions. His changed attire is noted as well, and in leading him over to one of those comfortable seats, Séverine remarks, "I see you are already getting accustomed to courtly couture…?"
<FS3> Gauge rolls Perception: Good Success. (6 8 6 8 3 3)
<FS3> Gauge rolls Empathy: Failure. (5 2)
<FS3> Gauge rolls Intimidation: Good Success. (5 7 1 8 8 2 1 5 2 1)
When the coat is taken to be hung up so it can dry out, Gauge nods curtly to the one who takes the coat and then realizes who it is who has given him his wine. At her comment about business he practically snarls, eyes narrowing to a squint at some memory or another, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes growing deeper at whatever it is that's goin on behind those eyes of his. Taking another drink from the wine Gauge growls out, "When I have to." And then he reaches up with one hand to start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down to where the vest would prevent the last buttons to be undone, though the shirt is still tucked into his slacks. He sits down on the chair and sprawls as he reaches a hand into his shirt to rub at his chest and skin and loosen the shirt a bit. Another drink is taken from his wine and he lets his gaze fall on Séverine and he studies her in silence, "What are the rules to forming a contract with one of the Courtesans here at La Rose Sauvage?" He rumbles softly in that gravelly voice of his. "Not time limits, I mean what is the limit of what can be done with one of the Red." Another sip is taken as he studies Severine's movements from his seat in the chair.
<FS3> Severine rolls Empathy: Good Success. (8 4 8 4 4 5 3 7)
From the hallway soft footsteps are heard and a flash of crimson seen as Dior dares peek into the room. The young adept apparently cannot sleep tonight and thus has decided to venture out. Wearing a simple white silk tunic that he has paired with his emerald green sleep pants he pads barefoot through the halls, hoping to see if anything interesting is afoot this night.
Something is amiss, Séverine can sense it, and her gaze flickers slightly as she turns her head to glance back at Gauge when he follows her into the salon. Or… perhaps… not so amiss. Grey eyes narrow slightly as she takes in that tension in his bearing, and her features soften into a smile. Sensing something there, frustration maybe, some dark energy to draw from, perhaps. It may be that dark mood of his, that prompts Séverine to sink into the traditional abeyante position upon the cushion before his chair, kneeling there with her gaze lowered. Even if his gruff question, makes Séverine look up and meet his gaze. More silence follows, as she digests his inquiry. "My lord. The rules are as this. In the contract, the courtesan in question would write down their word of Signale, for you to honor during the assignation. Should they get pushed too far by your efforts, this word alone will be the signal for you to stop, and it is absolutely required for you to react accordingly if such occurs. You are allowed to leave marks upon the courtesan in question. As long as they are not of any permanent nature. No mutilation nor grave scarification, nor administering such grave injuries as would affect this courtesan's service after her time of recovery." The words leave her lips with a matter-of-factly routine, even so, there is the faint hint of a tremble in her voice as she gives Gauge this information. She inhales a breath, lowering her gaze again. "Is there a particular Red Rose you may have in mind, my lord?"
<FS3> Severine rolls Perception: Good Success. (3 6 2 7 8 3 6 8 2 5)
With her focus so utterly on the Eresse lord, Séverine could be oblivious to Dior's approach, and yet… the soft tap of familiar feet sneaking into the salon elicits a faint twitch of her brows, and a slow turn of her head, glancing towards the hallway for a brief moment. Her gaze shifts back towards Gauge d'Eresse then, his knees, as she keeps her eyes demurely lowered, waiting for his reply.
The wine in the flute glass held by the lip in his fingertips is swirled around in a slow circle as Gauge listens to Séverine's words, absorbing them without comment at least at first. His expression however does not change even when she kneels there on the cushion before his chair. When he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes Gauge flicks a glance over towards Dior briefly but then he turns his attention back to the Second. "How long is the time of recovery." His voice is a gravelly deep sound, grating from between his lips as he keeps his gaze focused on Séverine further. Shifting forwards he spreads his legs apart so he can reach forwards and presses the side of his index finger under Séverine's chin and firmly lifts her chin towards him so he can see her eyes but the motion is smooth and not a hard jerk. "Do you have any advice as to an available Red Rose at the moment?" He rumbles, "That pretty boy back there is not to my taste. If you know of others who are available then by all means, introduce me to them." He doesn't smile but his eyes they shine brighter even though his eyes narrow and squint further as he focuses on Séverine more intently. His lips press together into a thin line before he lifts the fluted glass again to take another drink. "Otherwise, unless you need a period of recovery… you will have to do."
Then Gauge leans back into his chair again, sinking into it and he drains his wine and holds the empty out while waiting for someone to bring him another one, or at least take the empty. He glances again towards Dior for a moment but then back to Séverine there before him.
"This would depend," Séverine responds, to Gauge's question about the time of recovery. "On the gravity of marks earned. It can take a few days upto one or two weeks, but… such extended times are more the exception, my lord." There is a flicker in her gaze, coming just in time as he elects to lift her chin by the subtle press of index finger against it. "As for your other question… currently I am the only one - apart from Dior there…" Her eyes flick pointedly in Dior's direction, "available. If you deem me sufficient for that purpose." There had been something in his wording, that prompted her to make that particular addition. A slow blink of her lashes follows, when the courtesan assures, "I am not in recovery, my lord. Or my marque would not be on display." As it is, currently, in the low dip of the dress at her back, the art of Rose Sauvage adorning pale skin that looks currently devoid of any bruises. "We could see to get the formalities done, my lord, in my office. The writing out of the contract and agreement and signature of terms."
Something about what she said makes him chuckle but it is not a sound of amusement really, the grating sound coming from Gauge's throat is darker than he normally uses or at least, has used in the past when conversing with Séverine here in the Salon. "You will be more than sufficient." He stands up and looks down at her there, leaning over to place his empty glass on a table near the chair. "Let us see to the formalities then. Who better to show me what the Red Rose can offer than you Séverine, Second of La Rose Sauvage." He reaches down then to run one fingertip along the back of her neck. "And we will see what I can show you."
"I am glad to hear." The words leave her lips in a soft murmur, and Séverine remains kneeling for a moment, even when Gauge already moves to rise, towering over her. That touch of his hand against the back of her neck elicits a subtle widening of his eyes, that telling quickening of her breathing. "I believe, this may be… instructive for the both of us." Lifting her hand to touch his forearm, she curls her fingers around it, for support, as she moves to stand, dark red dress shifting into place as skirts rearrange themselves. "Please… come along," she asks, she for her part letting go now as to lead the way. Pale is the skin that glows in the lighting of oil lamps as they enter the hallway, the marque coming to life from her movement and breathing, framed as it is by the darker silk of the dress. Opening a door right there at the junction of hallways, she bids Gauge to enter, before she slips into the office right after him.
The formalities are swiftly dealt with, the Signale written down, as she had told him earlier. Séverine's Signale is the word 'squirrel'. There are no further details pointed out in additon to what she said earlier, making it a fairly standard Valerian contract.
Gauge follows along over towards the office but for the moment he doesn't touch her again after helping her up off that cushion. His mood, notably, has not changed even with the knowledge that they are going to form a contract. He only nods at her words though and doesn't respond visibly to any of them. When they get to the office and the formalities are dealt with, Gauge takes a moment to read over the contract from start to finish making sure to make note of the Signale that she has chosen. "When you use the Signale," Not if. When. "Does that mean the contract is over, or that I must simply stop doing that activity." He rumbles in his gravelly voice. "Or is it a pause, perhaps something to be discussed when it is used?" He looks up from the contract in order to look at Séverine's expression and study her until he gets an answer, "Set the contract length to twenty four hours." and he offers the contract back to the Second of La Rose Sauvage so it can be altered with the time before he signs it.
"It means…", Séverine replies, holding Gauge's gaze for a moment, "that you have managed to bring me past the point of what I can endure. You would have to stop instantly with the activity. It does not mean, that you would have to leave… or that the assignation is over." His curiosity, amusing as it had been to her at first, is something that intrigues her, the more questions he is asking, making more possibilities play through her mind. "Twenty-four hours.", she echoes, even if the inhale of breath that follows instantly may indicate to him, that his choice of duration, again surprises her. "I shall be yours for that day, my lord." She applies the adjustments to the contract, and then slides it back over the table, towards him.
"I take it by your reaction that is not something that happens very often." Gauge rumbles out, looking at the contract when it is handed back to him he makes sure to read it over again checking the changes before he signs the contract and arranges for payment to the Salon, payment for Séverine will of course be arranged later. "Twenty four hours." He considers, "Do we have to remain here for those twenty four hours?" He pauses as he studies her, "Or am I allowed to take you off the premises."
"You are.", Séverine replies with a faint smile curving her lips. "You can leave with me, and take me elsewhere, as you like." A ghost of a shiver there, as she acknowledges this, her eyes watching intently as he applies the signature. "As long, as you make sure I return safely." Stowing the contract and the tithe away in a drawer of her desk, she moves to stand then. "We are to start here, though?" She smiles. "You wish to learn about our canon, after all. Let me show you one of our chambers, where I shall entertain you in the manner you please."