(1310-07-08) Roses are Red
Summary: Arsène and Cyprien meet within la Rose Sauvage and discuss various matters, before being later joined by Evangeline.
RL Date: Sun Jul 08, 1310
Related: {$related}
evangeline arsene cyprien 

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.


Within the foyer of the Rose Sauvage, there is a half-circle of chairs that surround an area where courtesans and patrons might kneel before those surveying them, taking them in, or taking them up for contract. Tonight is a little more quiet than usual, likely with the event going on in one of the other Houses. Such events always garner quite a bit of attention for the House throwing them. That doesn't mean, however, that the Rose Sauvage is not amply busy.

Cyprien comes in from the hallway, out into the foyer area, taking in those gathered. He smiles, a small subdued smile to those that he knows as they come and go about their duties, exchanging a few quiet words with a novice. He is dressed in a pair of white trousers that accentuate his physique, and no shoes, making little sound as he moves. The shirt that he wears is mostly a pair of nearly sheer sleeves attached at the collar at his throat, and open at the back to reveal his full marque, that of the Valerian canon of the Rose Sauvage.

In comes Arsène, clad in black as is his habit, a simple ensemble of a shirt and trousers that remain tight enough upon his body to ensure they don't impede his movements, completed by a belt and boots of black leather. His longsword remains at his side, as ever, his physique and walk making it clear it sees rather regular use. He does not, however, seem to ber any particular hostility on this night, instead looking incredibly, completely, bored. Apparently he is not among those who might find any enjoyment involving glass and lots of naked people. Who would have thought? And so he arrives at the Rose Sauvage, black eyes looking around for any source of relative entertainement, till eventually finding Cyprien. "Strange. I would have thought a Valerian would be especially suited for whatever use they've conjured up for glass. Yet here you are."

"Yet here I am," Cyprien answers as he turns toward the voice that addresses him, looking over the man in black before inclining his head in greeting. "I'm certain that the event is quite a hit, but I prefer a setting more intimate and personal for the sort of entertainment that might involve glass in its various forms. Besides, I'd be more as like to attend if it were for my own House, after all." He then inquires, "Would you care for some refreshment?" There are novices at hand who bear such if beckoned.

"Mm, true enough. I'm of a same mind, in that regard. Too much is lost when the senses are thus overburdened." Arsène nods, pleased by the answer. He nods at the mentio nof refreshment, adding "Red wine, if you have any." before glancing around the hall. "Mm, she doesn't appear to be there. A shame." His gaze returns to Cyprien, tilting his head to the side. "I've not met you before. Arsène de Trevalion, Vicomte de Dreux. And who might you be, Valerian?"

A nearby novice is murmured to and departs with an inclination of the head to the Courtesan, presumably off to get the aforementioned red wine. "There's something to be said for the energy of an event that stimulates and overstimulates, that sort of shared ecstasy, the flooding of the senses, but then.. there is also something to be said for the focus, the intensity of a different sort that is shared in an interplay where the smallest details, the shift and balance of the experience can be fully enjoyed at one's own pace without regard for others." He glances around and then asks, "Were you looking for someone in particular? I can see if she's available for you?" He seems willing to assist, if the Vicomte is inclined to speak with someone else. "A pleasure, my lord," he says with a more formal bow befitting a man of his particular station before replying, "Cyprien no Rose Sauvage, of the Valerian canon, yes."

"Perhaps. But I find I must be especially deprived before I consider group sessions where one focuses entirely upon sexual excess." Arsène shrugs, unapologetic about his preferences. "Now, a massed battle, that I find as entertaining as a duel, for different reasons. Bloodshed is one of those things where the more the better is certainly true, at least, where I am concerned." he smirks, the expression sharp, and similarly without remorse. "No. She'd no doubt take it as admission of longing or some other nonesense, and I won't allow her the satisfaction. Certainly not in this little game we play. Nevermind her, Valerian. You're providing enough entertainment with our discussion thus far." Though a name is given, and he even nodded when he heard, Arsène seems to have decided to stick with Valerian anyway. "So tell me, as it is beyond me. What motivates you to such service? To take it all?"

Cyprien inclines his head, and doesn't seem to find any fault in those preferences, himself. "I rarely find myself so deprived as to require that degree of stimulation, but I can appreciate how some might enjoy it." He smiles to the novice as a tray returns with a glass of red wine upon it. This, he takes up and offers to Arsene before saying, "I suspect that the rush of adrenaline that one might feel within a duel is multiplied in the clash and heat of a true battle. I've only sparred and dueled myself, as battle is not within my future." He smiles a little, a tugging at the edge of his lips. When Arsene doesn't seem interested in seeking out whoever he had mentioned, Cyprien lets it go easily enough, instead turning to answer the question. "The pain, you mean?" Cyprien asks, "Not all of my service is pain, as not all yielding is pain, but what pain there is, I take from those who must give it. In their release of that need, in satisfying that within them, and having the strength to bear it for them, I find pleasure. I take pleasure in the anticipation. And depending on the act, a certain elation. It's different with each patron, what they need, and what I can give."

"The only battles I've had the pleasure of participating in was being set upon by would-be avengers of a past lover of mine. She had a rather impressive amount of brothers and other male relatives. They wished for my blood, but found only their own. It was fun." Arsène smiles, an echo of the bloodshed in that simple gesture. "But you're a duelist, then? Interesting." And it would appear these are no idle words, for there is genuine interest now lighting Arsène's eyes. "What moves you to duel? To take the sword, if not the thrill of victory? Or can you even feel such?" He tilts his head to the side. He listens to the answer given to his previous question, and shakes his head. "Self sacrifice in the thought that you are taking onto yourself the excess in your patron? Your selflessness remains as puzzling and alien as ever."

"Was it at least a challenge?" Cyprien asks of being beset upon by so many avenging male relatives at once. One brow arches just a little bit. He then says, "I enjoy a number of physical pursuits," and it's true that he does have the arm of a swordsman. "I have patrons who enjoy sparring with me, and have had a couple who have enjoyed a practice duel or two." He chuckles and says, "I can feel the entire range of human emotion, my lord. They don't strip us of that at childhood. I can feel the thrill of victory if I win, and all the rush of matching skill against skill. I'm no master, though, as I haven't the time to dedicate to that alone." He inquires then, "Is it entirely selfless though? If I desire the feel of bonds about my body, and I enjoy the robbing of my senses for the heightening of others, and if I find pleasure in being claimed by another, if only for a night.. is it truly selfless? In some cases, perhaps, but in others? I can be as selfish as any other. But I yield myself while doing so."

Evangeline leaves, heading towards the Upper Landing [UP].

Evangeline has left.

Evangeline arrives from the Upper Landing.

Evangeline has arrived.

"Are you quite sure there isn't the slightest hint of masochism resting dormant in that cruel and insidious heart of yours, my darling Vicomte de Dreux?" Evangeline arrives to the main salon and at the sound of a familiar voice, taunts him with a teasing lash of her tongue. The Mandrake is dressed for this cooler evening in a gown of softest velvet in a shade of shadowed emerald, so dark it appears black. It clings to her body like a selfish lover with a long and daring slit up the side of her right leg. When she moves, one might notice what appears to be a garter on her right thigh, however upon closer inspection, it is a strip of leather with a sheath to conceal a dagger against the outer part of her thigh. She idly fixes a loose strand of hair from the low chignon on the back of her head. There are a million reasons why her styling has come undone. None of which she will speak of. She stills for a moment, slender arms crossing beneath her chest as she listens to the conversation. Her violet-blue eyes drift over Cyprien and judge him from head to toe. Good evening, Cyprien. I see you've had the pleasure of meeting Lord Arsene Trevalion. "

"They might have bested me had it been when my father had forbidden my use of the sword. But it was not such a time. Yet even an unskilled mob can take down a master swordsman, if they strike at once or are lucky enough. To face so many on your own provides a challenge on its own, beyond their skill. It was thrilling. Even more so when I started cutting them down one after the other. It's the issue when family fight together. They tend to panic when their loved one falls right beside them. Some fight harder. Most break." Arène answers, that smile of his still there. "Mm… Something to keep in mind, then, should I run out of sparring partners." he notes. As to the selflessness… "You do so out of service to Namaah." he points out. "While you may take pleasure, can you truly say it isn't some part selfless? And bes—" And in comes Evangeline, and the Vicomte turns to face her with an arched brow. "Masochism? And what, my dear Mandrake, would ever make you think such?" he asks.

"Of course," Cyprien says, "I am a servant of Naamah, of course, but that doesn't mean that I don't have my own desires and pleasures as well. That they coincide with my service is of course, the nature of who I am." He then turns as Evangeline approaches and says, "I have, yes." He is dressed in a pair of white trousers that are designed to show off his athletic physique, and a shirt that is mostly a pair of long sleeves that cuff at the wrists, and are attached to the collar at his neck, brushing across his shoulders, but leaving his full marque bare, the fabric nearly sheer where it covers his chest. He stands comfortably off to one side of the foyer, conversting with Arsene. On the topic of masochism, he glances from Arsene to Evangeline, as though curious as to what her answer might be.

"You and I are undeniable forces in this world. You have been placed in my path as I have been placed in yours. My presence must torture you." Evangeline continues to tease the nobleman while a smirk tugs upon her lips. "Now this is more likely a pairing I can understand. But it appears I interrupted a conversation. Please, My Lord, as you were saying?" She gestures to Arsene to continue on with Cyprien. She slithers past them, showing off the back of her dress. It is but a tangled mess of thin silver chains that brush over her bare skin, exposing the marque of Mandrake. First a drink, then to claim a seat upon a plush chaise.

"Mm… I suppose you are no mindless drone, a fair point." Arsène remarks to Cyprien. "Every visit to the other Houses of the Rose Sauvage seem to bring intriguing conversations, and new aspects to consider. Far better than the world's largest amount of glass phalli in one place." he nods. Black eyes turn to Evangeline, however, when the Mandrake replies. "Quite the contrary, dear Thorn. If we are so opposed, I relish such confrontations, and am thrilled at the challenges thus posed." he says, his smile turning into a grin. "If, of course, you truly are my match. Past experiences have left me disappointed again and again, yet perhaps you're the one, mm? Perhaps you are so special as to have something all the other women didn't." He laughs, amusement's dark cousin in his voice, the cruel sound yet not unpleasant. He takes a sip of his own wine, glancing at the Mandrake's back before returning his focus to Cyprien. "Can those that endure everything break a person in turn?" he asks, apparently philosophically.

"Well, I suppose that seeing such a collection once might be intriguing simply for the sake of doing so, but.." Cyprien can't help but smile a little in amusement with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He is quiet though while Evangeline and Arsene have their exchange. There is a glance for the Mandrake as she makes her way over to her drink and then her seat, "No interruption, really, considering we're conversing in the foyer. To do so invites company, after all." Then he answers Arsene's question, consideringly, "It's possible, I'm sure," blue eyes flickering over the man's features for a moment. "I suppose it would depend on the individual. There are those who break others who would know no pain, themselves, and thus never know how to endure it, and so the same might be said that there are those who only know how to endure it, but would not know how to deliver it in return."

Laughter is caught behind her glass of wine just as Arsene teases in return. It is obvious she does not take him seriously. However the conversation catches her attention. "Are you curious to know if you are capable of enduring the sting upon your palm from striking a whip rather than being the one who is whipped?" Idle curiosity takes Evangeline's tongue to inquire Cyprien. "We both enjoy testing boundaries, albeit in different ways. I have great respect for Valerian." She brings the rim of her glass to her lips, quietly watching both men.

"How amusing, that I should ask these questions to a White Rose and then a Red, and both would answer yes. But then, all roses have their thorns, do they not? And speaking of such…" Arsèneanswers Cyprien. "Pain and I are old friends, one whose company I know well, but have no special interest seeking needlessly. Pain was my best teacher, and for that, I respect it enough to not scorn those who would embrace it. Even if such excess is beyond me." he shrugs, surprisingly direct. "A perfect record is but myth. There are always losses." And he moves then, right up to Evangline, and leans over to look straight into her eyes, from a rather close vantage point. "Alas, our game will have to be played out at a later point. Who will make the first winning move, I wonder?" And he places his unfinished glass of wine right in her lap, before turning around and walking away. "Good evening, Valerian, Mandrake. It was fun." he calls back, his head turned slightly, before he leaves completely.

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