(1310-08-18) Drinks and Debauchery
Summary: Former are had, and latter is planned. Or is the exchange between Drake Rousse and Evelyne Somerville about theories and studies, after all?
RL Date: 19/08/2018
Related: None
drake evelyne annette 

Port — Marsilikos

Fortune laid the foundation for the grand port of Marsilikos; look how the arms of the land spread wide to embrace the setting of the sun, welcoming a bay of still waters rendered all the more peaceful by the presence of a small island to the south, on the flanks of which the waves cut themselves into powerless ripples as they move in from the sea. But what Fortune gave the D'Angelines their cunning and craft has improved to a hum of efficiency and culture. The natural bay has had its curved shores sharpened into straight edges bolstered with ridges of heavy stones on which the tides have left long mark when the waters are low, algae and barnacles hung onto the rugged stones. Then stone foundations have been piled out into the harbor to hold up wide wooden pillars and the great treated slats of the piers and boardwalks which extend into the bay, now at wider intervals for massive trading vessels, now at shorter intervals for private fishing and pleasure yachts.

The southern arm of the bay is reserved for the great southern fleet of the Terre D'Angan Navy, which is headquartered here in Marsilikos, and is ever a hub of activity, the giant slips outfitted to haul the massive warships up into the air for repairs, while further inland on the southern peninsula a forest of masts rises into the air where new ships are being built and old ones repaired in full drydock. Between the naval slips and the drydock rises the stately edifice of the Southern Naval Headquarters, glistening with huge latticed windows on the upper floors. Beyond the headquarters rises the massive fortified promontory of the Citadel, with bleached-white parapets and fluttering banners.

Markets and vendors throng the plaza at the innermost fold of the harbor where civilian and military seamen alike might find a bite to eat, supplies for their next mission, a good drink or a little bit of companionship. Far in the bay, that little isle sports a lofty lighthouse to guide the ships in by night.


The sun casts a vast array of colors over the port as it begins to set for the night. Ships, sailors and merchants come and go doing the last of their business before the sun goes down. The crowds are thinning out however and its easy to spot the golden haired figure of what looks like a noblewoman wandering down the dock with a chaperone and guard. Annette wears a modest yet flattering gown of sea blue silks, the rounded neckline on the gown accented by a single string of pearls resting about her delicate throat. Her steps are light her expression one of serene calm as she takes in the sight of the setting sun. The regal baring of the young woman comes easily and naturally, her posture is perfect her gray gaze appearing as cool as the ocean waters she is gazing out onto.

A ship from Tiberium had reached the safety of the port before the nightfall and there is the usual bustle of dockhands emptying it of its cargo, while sailors prepare for a wild night on land. Nobody pays much attention to the young man clad in fine silks of a dramatic blood-red colour and softest leather, who descends the gangway with a small bag flung over one shoulder. He, too, pauses to gaze, though in the opposite direction, across the bustling port, the stalls and the people for a long moment. It is inevitable that his gaze should meet the young woman's eventually.

Faint apple scent can be noted by those Evelyne de Somerville passes on what appears to be an evening walk of leisure. The lady wears a dress of white and green, fashion that charms her comely figure like only fashion can, and yet her attire leans slightly towards the more practical, riding skirts slitted at the front revealing a glimpse of leggings as she walks. Trailing behind her is a guard with a somewhat grim look on his features, as if he were ready to shoo any scoundrel or villain away from his charge, by a mere stare or of he needs to, by drawing steel. In the port, there are sailors and dock workers, common scum as some would call them. Evelyne, meanwhile, seems to be in the best of spirits. One finger twirls a stray blonde curl in a merry way while she hums a tune to herself. Her blue eyes alight as she spots the charming Annette with guard and chaperone, and then Evelyne smiles towards the man who just disembarks so optimistically from the ship. Red, as dramatic as that of his attire draws the eye, so his arrival may be more noticed that he initially thought.

Those gray eyes do meet those of the newly arrived man in red and Annette takes a breif moment to study him. Her gaze is calm yet assessing but the soft gentle smile she sends Drake's way is welcoming enough and possibly even breathtaking if only for the moment it lasts. Glancing away now she takes note of Evelyne with a faintly curious look in her eyes. Slowly and with an easy grace to her movements she moves to greet the Somerville lady coming to a stop nearby and offering a curtsey. "Hello to you my Lady. It is a lovely evening for a stroll is it not?"

Drake takes the smile as an invitation to approach, even though someone else is there faster. "I see that this town has become even more beautiful since I left it.", he comments to them both, "It is a sight for sore eyes after looking at hairy sailors for a week. Good evening, ladies." He offers a low and very elegant bow, first to Annette, then to Evelyne.

How interesting! The man is considered by the young Annette, but it will be Evelyne she greets. The young blonde lady smiles as she observes the graceful curtsey. "It is. A very lovely evening. Pray tell." Her gaze flicks pointedly to Annette's retinue of chaperone and guard, "Are you of the Night Court?" It has never been one of Evelyne's qualities to beat around the bush, instead she likes to state things as they are. "I don't think I've seen you before." A subtle hint, that she might indeed pay a visit to the Night Court of Marsilikos, now and then. Things get interesting, when the new arrival joins them, and so the apple lady turns to face him fully, giving him a very pointed look over some might find flattering, and others might perceive as impertinent. "Lovely. Indeed. Hello there. You're quite the charmer, aren't you? And such a fiery one. I am Evelyne. Evelyne de Somerville. Welcome to Marsilikos." Both her family name and her faint l'Agnacite accent proves Eve is not of this province. She lifts a brow towards Drake, expecting an introduction in turn.

Another smile, this one so faint its barely seen and a gentle arch of Annette's brow is her greeting to Drake as he approches. A touch of amusement shows before Evelyne makes her inquiry. "Indeed, I am Annette Chalasse nó Lis d'Or. Its a pleasure to meet you both." Her gaze drifts slowly back to Drake now also curious to hear who he might be. "You have a silver tongue my lord. I am certain you will have the majority of the ladies here falling all over you in no time." Her tone is calm, perfectly composed with just a touch of amusement shining in those pale eyes.

"Ah, promises, mylady, promises.", Drake grins at Annette, "I'm quite available to be fallen all over." He even spreads his arms wide to indicate he's ready even now. "Lady Evelyne, Lady Annette.", he repeats their names as if to commit them to memory, "It is a pleasure to be received home by such beauty and a fine last sight to behold before my sister murders me in cold blood. Drake Rousse.", he finally adds his own name to the conversation.

"Ah. Lis d'Or. You are one of the golden lilies," Evelyne realizes with a deepening of her smile. "I am pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle Annette. Judging from those in your company, I believe you are as of yet guarded from the attentions of others?" She chuckles, and it is a good-natured chuckle. "So you are yet awaiting your debut? How exciting." And another chuckle follows, this in reaction to Annette's comment towards Drake. "I would bet he has.", a statement, blunt and bold, the young lady makes in response, casting Drake a mischievous glance. She may be only slightly older than Annette, in her late teens. "Lord Drake. A pleasure." His name might be marked down as well, on a list hidden away in her memory.

Drake seems to be storing away the information on Annette's position as well, though he doesn't comment on it right now. "So, where does one go here for one final night of drinks and debauchery?", he turns to Evelyne instead as she seems to be the better informed of the two, "Perhaps you would like to show me the sights, as it were?"

"Drinks and debauchery?" Evelyne smiles. "Hardly here, my lord. Unless you prefer a more rustique setting. There is the Kraken's Den." A dip of her head in the direction of the part tavern. "But it would hardly be the place to go first, when you've just arrived to the city. Maybe I can accompany you back to the Noble District. The are the Wine Cellars there, and the Golden Harbor, a place to eat fine meals, their cook is outrageous. It will be drinks to be found rather than debauchery…" At which her smile deepens and she moves closer to reach for Drake's hand. "For such we would go to the Night Court. Four salons they have. No. Five. Wonderful places of diversion, each catering to different tastes. You've been to the capital? Marsilikos is no comparison, of course, to Mont Nuit with its Thirteen Houses. But… it is not that bad either."

"Well, let's start with drinks, shall we?", Drake suggests, taking her hand, "Perhaps the debauchery shall come later." He casts a long and not all too subtle look down her cleavage, "I have spent some time in the capital, yes. But … I've been compelled to return here for a while. A little misunderstanding. And I remember the Night Court's pleasures." He looks meaningfully to Annette, who seems to have become distracted by something else, so he looks back at Evelyne to see if she might whisk him off.

"Drinks sound good.", Evelyne obliges. Her lips purse at his addition, a light shrug of a shoulder there. "As to what will come after, we'll see." For a moment, the scent of apples about her seems to intensify a little. Perhaps prompted by Drake's rather pointed inspection of her neckline. "Who wouldn't?", she counters to the pleasures of the Night Court he mentions. She follows his glance towards the novice, perhaps only to see if his words and look manage to draw a blush to the features of the young Lis d'Or. "Come along." This murmured towards Drake as she pulls him away with her, Somerville guard following in their wake.


Wine Cellar — Noble District

Stairs lead down to the heavy oak door, above which the sign of the place, the likeness of a Hellene amphora spilling over with wine painted upon wood, swings lazily in the occasional breeze. Beyond that door the entrance hall comes into view, where various kegs and casks of differing sizes are arranged in oenological allure before the roughly hewn walls of ancient stone. There is a chill down here on hot summer days, that will be efficiently battled in the colder months through the heating of a giant hearth to the back. The place has a decidedly cavernous character, alcoves to the left and right offering seating at small tables for two or three. Lamps are dangling by chains from the ceiling, shades of milky glass work from La Serenissima offering sufficient lighting. There are no visible windows, which means lamps will be in use even during the day.

Further to the back there is a small hallway branching off from the main area, leading to a medium sized chamber where the bigger barrels are stored. Here, a larger group of up to eight people can sit about a round table of heavy oak, while they are being served the rarer vintages or even the heavier spirits that are stored in a wooden cabinet to the back. Staff is mostly male, clad in black breeches and white shirts with dark red vests, knowledgable sommeliers of superior training that will be glad to wait on guests in person and offer insight into the variety of wines, red and white, from Terre d'Ange and a variety of specialties from abroad, that are available here.


Drake is only too happy to follow along, focusing his attention on the girl at his side fully now. "So tell me all the latest gossip of this fair city.", he suggests as they walk towards the noble district. He casts furtive glances here and there as if expecting (or fearing?) to be recognized on the streets. "Who's feuding with who, who's sleeping with who? I need to know what's happening before I dive back into the pleasures of social life."

Evelyne chuckles as they take the few stairs leading down to the entrance door of the Wine Cellar. "You are asking quite a bit, my lord, considering you just arrived and I hardly know you. I know of no feuds. There has been a bloodbath though, a few months ago, in Béziers. An entire branch of Mereliots got almost wiped out, or so I hear. This was before I arrived from Elua." The guard opens the door for them, and Evelyne slips inside, choosing a table in one of the cavernous alcoves. "As for who's sleeping with who? I can only speak for myself, and then again, I am not sure you'd be interested in that detailed information." The sommelier arrives to greet them and ask for their wishes. "A Namarrese Red, perhaps?", Eve suggests to Drake. "Coeur Noir, if you have." This her request towards the wine cellar attendant.

"Ah, you're a newcomer to this fair city.", Drake realizes and lets her lead them towards a table of choice. He doesn't comment on the wine selection either, though a faint smirk appears on his lips while she does so. His gaze drifts around the main room to see who else is occupying tables nearby. For some reason he seems to be turning inward a little, deeper into the alcove. When the attendant has departed, he places an elbow onto the table, so he can rest his right hand against his cheek and lean slightly, while looking at Evelyne. "I'm interested in -any- kind of information.", he replies with innocent puppy eyes, "Especially what kind of a man must one be to impress a fair young lady of your spirit."

"I arrived here two months ago," Evelyne replies. "So… yes, in a way I'm a newcomer still. My family wished me to relocate here as…" She smiles and a slight roll of her eyes occurs, as she continues, "they deemed my lifestyle too costly. At the Capital. They thought it a good idea to have me recommended to the Duchesse here. As lady-in.waiting. So far I am on trial. We'll see for how long they allow me to remain at the Palace." If Drake may appear a bit nervous about being spotted, it seems to escape Evelyne. Perfectly oblivious to this, she continues, "That is… I will have to leave in a few months, at the latest. My father arranged a match for me, so… I need to indulge in any sort of diversion while I still can." She winks at Drake. "What kind of mind would impress me? Oh, that's easy. An adventurous spirit, a readiness to follow Elua's Precept, to love as we will. A similar spirit to mine own."

"Ah, an arranged match, how perfectly tedious.", Drake commiserates with an artificial sigh. "How convenient then, that I have arrived just in time to brighten your last months of freedom. To love as we will… it is the principle I live by. Surely the Duchesse's court is one where this poses no problem. From what I've heard… people are generous with their… affections." He pauses as their wine is being served and takes a probing sip. "Ah, it'll do.", he decides and waves the waiter off, so they can resume their talk.

"What lucky coincidence, indeed," Evelyne replies, leaning a touch forward so that her elbows come to rest on the table, one hand lifted to twirl a stray curl of her blonde hair. It may also be coincidence that this posture once again will bring her comely neckline to his attention. Oops. "Drake.", she addresses him, once the choice of wine seems to have been agreed on, "That is a rather odd name. You are a Rousse? You've arrived from… where? I saw you disembark from a ship. Are you the travelling kind?"

Drake appreciates the view very much, so much that it takes a moment for him to realize that he's being asked questions. "Oh, yes, I'm a Rousse, from the wrong side of the bed.", he admits frankly and with a smirk, "My family deemed it wise to have me educated and sent me off to Tiberium and its fine university. Let's say, there is a lot to be learned in Tiberium, but mathematics and history were not among them. Eventually someone got upset about something and I decided to pay my dear homeland a visit. The sights here are just as fine after all." Especially the sights right in front of his nose.

"Ah… Tiberium…" Evelyne's forehead wrinkles a little. "Studies. Tedious studies. I never had the mind nor ambition for those. So my father will make use of me in the only way that remains. To marry me to a good match that House Somerville will benefit from." Shifting a little, but not leaving her current poise, she seems to be well aware of that appreciative look certain parts of her receive from the Rousse. "Is there a wrong side of the bed?", the thought leaves her lips in the moment it passes her mind. "I've never felt misplaced in any bed I've explored so far. A bed…" She clears her throat, in the attempt to make the conversation less double entendre. Or maybe more. "A bed tells you much about the personality of its owner."

"The wrong side of the bed is the one not occupied by the Vicomte's wife but by… other ladies.", Drake clarifies, leaving the explanation there, "You are right though, there is no wrong side of the bed when it comes to the pleasures this particular place in the house offers. I dread to return to the cold comfort of my lonely bed here in our residence. There's no joy in that, wouldn't you agree?", he asks, lifting his eyes from her cleavage to her face to give her an inviting look, eyes sparkling. "It's also perhaps the one place where studies are not tedious but rather fascinating…"

"Would that cold comfort be alleviated by someone sharing that bed with you?", Evelyne asks, widening her blue eyes to an impression of faux innocence. "I have heard, that the risk of freezing is reduced by the contact of skin against skin, and flesh against flesh." She smirks. "You must think me awfully forward. But… Would you prefer the study of a foreign bed to the study of a guest within your own? Studies, in that area at least, sound quite intriguing to me."

"Oh, very much indeed.", Drake confirms and smiles. "You know what, the study of a foreign bed sounds very appealing to me. I have no desire to rush home to face my sister's wrath. A kind soul offering me another roof for the night and a soft bed to rest my body in would be appreciated. You are a kind soul, are you not, Lady Evelyne?"

"I am.", Evelyne counters, and in lifting that goblet of wine to her lips takes a good sip from it, whilst keeping her eyes locked with those of the redhead Rousse beau. "Kind. And generous with my attentions. Or so I have been told." The wine leaves a stain on her bottom lip, a fact the lady corrects at once, removing it with the quick flick of her tongue. "It so happens, that I have a delightful room in a residence not far from here… I could offer you shelter, for the night at least."

"It would be a great kindness that won't go unrewarded.", Drake assures her, his eyes full of promise. He lifts his own goblet of wine to his lips, suddenly in a seeming hurry to be done with the wine and the verbal foreplay. Well, he's been literally at sea for a week.

And it seems, the Somerville lady is in a hurry as well, as she empties her goblet of wine and moves to stand. "A reward sounds fine, my lord." The formal address is laced with a hint of irony in her tone. "I must warn you, though. That reward should better be generous. I am said to be quite greedy in that regard." A glance to her guard who had unobtrusively blended with the wall and the interior while she was conversing with Drake, and there she leads the way. Aware that a certain red-haired Rousse will follow along.

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