(1310-08-27) A Fruitful Meeting
Summary: A talk between the Red Rose and Thorn Seconds about a possible future fete to be held at the salon. Warning: suggestive banter between a Thorn and a Red Rose
RL Date: 27/08/2018
Related: None
severine baptiste 

Valerian Second's Office — La Rose Sauvage

Only a little light from the window higher up the wall barely manages to penetrate through the thick curtains of heavy dark red brocade, which means that contracts and other paper work will be dealt with in the flickering light of an oil lamp at the wall, at the heavy table of dark mahogany, across which the Second in charge may face a potential patron of the salon sitting opposite of her in a heavy high-backed chair with dark red upholstery. Quill and inkwell sit all orderly somewhere to the side of the table, beside a contract that only needs some details to be filled in before it can be signed.


It had been awhile, since Baptiste had been appointed to Thorn Second. And even if Severine had offered her congratulations, there had not been much opportunity for a talk. Such as she had requested now. Waiting for Baptiste, she sits behind the desk, her dress a long flowing dark green, cut out at the back as to put her Marque on proud display. Not much of it will be visible while she is seated though. Her reddish-blonde hair is gathered and tied into a loose knot, drawing attention to her slender neck and her pale skin that, only faintly dotted with freckles, looks even paler against the dark hue of the dress. Once the door opens she will move to stand, hand lifting in a gesture to invite Baptiste into her office. "Thank you, Baptiste, for sparing me the time," she remarks softly, tone subdued, her grey eyes lingering on the impressive Thorn for a moment to take in his appearance. "I hope you are not wroth at me, for summoning you to my office, I hope?" There may be a bit of light humor in her tone, along with that light ghost of a challenge.

After having spent some time stalking about the hall of the salon, padding in near silence with only the soft rustle of soft clothes to give him away, Baptiste gives the novices and adepts a break and decides to hunt down more satisfying prey. Fortunately and coincidentally, Severine requests his presence and so he gladly obliges. The courtesan enters and takes a casual glance about the office before striding toward his fellow second. As he moves his interest shifts from his surroundings to the woman. Bright blue gaze focuses intently upon her and rather than sit across from Severine at the desk, he moves around to her side to half sit and half lean on the edge of the furniture. Baptiste looms from above, close and near, and after having spent a good thirty seconds looking her over he finally nods in greeting, "Of course, Severine. I do not take offense. Though I don't believe you've seen me truly wroth. It's been a while." a pause as he tilts his head and reaches out to brush the back of one finger against her cheek and then trail the digit through a few locks of her hair. The man doesn't have an off switch, though he does behave quite differently amongst his colleagues. Finally, he smiles, "But yes, I shall allow this summons. I am a generous man. How may I help you, Severine?"

It would be a lie to say Séverine is not aware of the presence that enters her office - and then invades her personal space with the nonchalance of a hunter. There is that brief hesitation, a flicker in her gaze when she notes his choice, and in sitting down in her seat, she signals acceptance, her gaze pointedly lowered as Baptiste half-settles upon her armrest. She endures his inspection, and who can tell, mayhaps there is a faint rosiness that threatens to conquer those pale cheeks for a moment. But then she is addressed, and thus her gaze is lifted, her chin too as she is forced to look up towards the Thorn looming over her. "You do not?" Her lips curve in a faint smile. That smile deepens, showing a faint glimpse of white teeth. "I never have seen you wroth. Because. To show wrath is to show weakness. You are anything but weak, Baptiste." And yet, there is that almost imperceptible shiver, as she feels the fleeting touch of a finger trailing along her face and then playing with a few stray strands of her hair. "With us holding so prominent positions within the salon," she begins, a slow blink there, before she meets his gaze more pointedly, "I thought we should have a talk. I already have regular meetings with Olivia. Differing branches of Rose Sauvage we present, but yet… I believe we could talk about ideas. Suggestions for fêtes we could hold here to make sure, Rose Sauvage remains a topic. And while we are at it, we could get a feel for each other. Would your generosity go as far as that?"

"I will allow it." he murmurs with a wave of his hand. It's likely that he's still in a teasing mood at the moment. His tone and the flick of his wrist would be far too haughty even for him. "And yes, we should meet regularly. I fear I've been a bit lax with my interactions with both you and Olivia. I need to expand my attention or at least focus it more appropriately. Let this be the first of our regular get togethers, then. I am sure we will both find them very enjoyable." he stands then, abruptly rising off the edge of her desk and moving around behind her chair. Baptiste places a hand at the nape of her neck and applies enough pressure to indicate he wants her to lean forward so that he can see her marque. Should she do so, he will trace the outline of the ink upon her skin as he begins speaking again, "Our flavors, while at opposite ends of the spectrum, are in harmony. We both know all of the cute phrases we can use to describe how our canons and the Houses of Elua we shadow are related. Dominance and submission and so forth. The power we each wield over those with whom we share our time and worship." the courtesan rests both hands upon her shoulders, his touch surprisingly light as he begins to slowly rub her shoulders.

"And yes, another facet of my new role that I have lagged behind in. Thank you for bringing me here to subtly chide me for my failings, Severine." there is a slight exhalation that suggest a faint and brief laugh. The massaging continues, slow and distracting as he both speaks of important matters and also seems intent on keeping her off balance. "Did you have anything in mind or shall we brainstorm? Or fetes should be the talk of the town. Instead, those silly gatherings with glass and that piglet are what seem to draw attention. You are right." when next he speaks, he has leaned down and is murmuring beside her ear, "We tend to have masques. Perhaps we should try something different. But as you say, we need to get a feel for one another. I am sure you are aching to have a feel of me, dear Severine." his laugh is soft as he kisses her earlobe and suddenly slips away from her to sit more appropriately across from her, lounging lazily in a chair.

"Enjoyable?", Séverine echoes, grey eyes holding his gaze until he breaks it, by going that half-circle until he is behind her chair. "I have no doubts about that." His mere presence makes her lean back at first, chin slightly lifted to instinctively, before the subtle touch of his hand at the nape of her neck makes the Red Rose Second lean forward as he wills her to. His words drift against her in a dark timbre that goes beyond what is perceptible to the ear, his statement accepted without any comment. Even with her facing away from him, he might sense the smile, hear the audible exhale through her nose as she for once delays her own reply. A reply to his next statement rather. "Have I chided you? If it appeared so, I apologize." Her voice is soft, "As for fêtes… I was wondering about any ideas you might have." The touch of his hands on her shoulders, resting one moment there, and then massaging lightly in the next, adds to her distraction, he might sense it from the way her breath picks slightly up. "We had a Showing, of out three canons. A masque was held for Ophélia's debut." Words trail off, as he continues, and she listens, his latter statement lingering in the manner he intended, earning him a glance from Séverine as she straightens and turns her head to regard him. "You are sure of a great many things," she counters, "but indeed. I admit I have thought about this. The two canons complementing each other, and their Seconds needing to try out whether they fit." It may be a pretty forward statement, but then again, there must be confidence in someone who holds the position of Second. Even if she may be of submissive canon. Séverine's gaze follows him, as Baptiste finally finds his way to the chair she may have intended for him. But why that look of faint disappointment at him suddenly depriving her of his close proximity?

"People seeking us out love their masks, it would be cruel to deny them those," she muses softly. "Perhaps a masque could offer opportunity for them to mingle. But I wonder what sort of games would be appropriate for entertainment - and yet conveying the thrill of a rose and a thorn?"

The man is silent for a moment or two as he considers, head tilting to one side. He looks away from her and up toward the ceiling, to a corner where it meets the wall. Languid in his pose, fingers tapping in light succession upon the arm of his chair, he mulls over ideas. Eventually, he shrugs and looks back at her with a blink, "Perhaps we make them earn their masques. Either beforehand or afterwards. Display their dominance or their submission. Earn our favor." he pauses and shrugs again, "I suppose Marielle has done something similar to that. I am far more creative in my dungeon than I am hosting a party." the mere thought of debasing himself so causes his lips to curl in a sneer. It can't possibly be the first time he's helped plan a gathering, so Baptiste must certainly be exaggerating. "Maybe we do just start with a masque. To enliven the place and allow the city to grow accustomed once more to our presence. Demonstrations of skill? Shall I bind you, darling? Display my skill with the whip to tantalize but leave your pretty back more or less unscathed? I bore myself with these suggestions but perhaps others would find them entertaining?" heaving a sigh, Baptiste shifts in the chair, sitting more upright and holding a hand out to her.

"Come crawl across your desk to me. You look so sad that I have left you. You may come to me, Severine." he murmurs as if offering her the greatest of gifts. Even if she is neither sad nor disappointed, he will certainly think she is. The ego of a narcissist. "I know we attempt to give potential patrons a taste of what we offer and I know the value of these fetes and parties, but they are a weak facsimilie of what we can truly offer. They should come here for individual interactions. But let us hold a masque. We can consult with our colleagues. Farm out the work of creativity and reap the benefits of claiming the credit." now he smiles, crooked and devastating as he teases, "While you and I see how well we…fit. In all seriousness, though, we should solicit an idea or two."

The corners of her mouth twitch upwards in a smile, when Baptiste comments on his creativity in his dungeon. "You are right, it somehow runs contrary to our canons to make an open display, when our patrons would open up the most in the seclusion and privacy of a patron room.", Séverine agrees lightly with him. "I remember some were shocked at our little experiment of a Showing, and yet it remained as much, a demonstration, a play, even of the darkly sensual sort. It can never come close to what can be explored on a more personal level." She pauses, considering for a moment, before she addresses Baptiste again. "Maybe you would like something to drink? Or would you prefer us to continue with a clear mind?" A chuckle then, at his remark that is both request and taunt. A shake of the head. "You know you will have to put more effort in, if you want me to crawl to you like that, Baptiste," the Red Rose states, her grey eyes alight as she replies to his other idea in almost the same breath, "a masque with a demonstration of your skill on me with the whip sounds like an idea. Tied up. And only that. A light teaser for those who are not yet aware of what we can offer. You know I am fond of knots."

"I know many things about you, but not nearly enough." his hand still extended, he arches a brow at her and smiles, "Can you fault me for attempting the low effort route?" Baptiste shakes his head and tsks and curls his fingers, withdrawing his hand. "Let's try that, though. Knots. I have been using shackles and chains of late, but you're such a delicate little thing." the taunt is murmured in his deep voice and his eyes shift as he looks about, "I would like a drink. Pick something for me. What do you think I like?" Baptiste is wearing a robe today, silken and dark and looking like something someone might wear about the house. As they speak, he rises and stands before the desk, reaching to his clothing and slowly unbuttoning, "What will you wear as I tie you up? I am almost always looking for an opportunity to remove my shirt and so I was thinking something like this?" at times he can be subtle. At times he enjoys playing at subtlety while he is not. Other times, he is not subtle in the slightest. Slipping out of the robe is decidedly ubsubtle. Baptiste allows it to pool in the chair behind him. He wears a pair of flowing pants in the same color and design as the robe. "This will tantalize, I am sure." a smile curls at his lips as he sets his hands on his hips, "At least, those interested in such a physique as mine will be enraptured. I like the idea of something simple. Something to leave the onlookers wanting more from you and from me. From the salon. Providing a disappointment, almost, and instilling a deep yearning for something more."

With them sitting across each other at her table, Séverine gives Baptiste a considering look when he challenges her to pick a drink for him. "Uisghe," she declares after a moment. Getting a bottle out from a cabinet, she pours him a drink, only an inch of amber liquid into a glass with a flat bottom. "It would be too strong for me," is added with a faint smirk. "But certainly not for someone like you." She stands as she slides the glass over to his side of the table, her eyes unable not to look, when the Thorn begins to unbutton the robe and then reveals his torso. "Oh. Certainly. This will tantalize." The praise is softly spoken, as she moves around the table towards him, dark green silk whispering about her frame. "What should I wear? Hmm. Something light and fluttering to complement your darkness? A light gown, similar to this one, which may get torn in the process, but never quite removed. As you said. We should leave them wanting to see more." Her hand reaches for the glass upon the table, she offers to him, "The first part will be the a demonstration of skilled ropework, the second part," she inhales through her nose, nostrils flaring, "could be a very skilled whipping."

Nodding his assent at her choice, he waits as she moves to pour the drink, his eyes following her about the office. "It's not a drink I partake in very often. Nor a people I care to see much of, but that is only because they are so plain compared to us." nevertheless, Baptiste accepts the drink, "Something light, yes. Something that provides ample coverage. An unusual amount of coverage." his eyes dip down to her chest to show specifically what he means. "Embarrassingly, foreignly chaste. Something to make Olivia nod her head and order one made for herself." he flashes a smile and takes a sip from the offered glass before setting it down. Then he takes her hands and rests them atop his muscled chest, holding her palms over his heart, "After I demonstrate the knots and you breathlessly, sinuously struggle against the silken rope - all wriggling and squirming for our guests - I will remark on your dress. How terribly unflattering it is. Then the whip." Baptiste considers some more, bright eyes gleaming as he imagines what he describes. He lifts a hand to his lips to kiss the pad of her index finger while contemplating.

"Then the whip. Make the fabric very thin. I can slice it off piece by piece. Show a flash of your stomach. Slash it across the thigh. Give a delightful view of cleavage. I could leave you untouched or reddened. Depending on our mood. Then we end the demonstration and mingle. Me, triumphant and superior. You, breathlessly explaining how your heart fluttered and your thighs clenched not just at what I did, but what the thought of what the patron might do to you."

Séverine inclines her head to his words, as she hands him the glass. To which exactly her nod pertains might remain a mystery - his dislike for plain looking foreigners, or perhaps just in acknowledgement of his statement as such. Her eyes are a steely grey, alight and focused as Baptiste suggests the manner of her dress. "I like chaste," she smiles, pouring herself a smaller glass of the bottle that still sits on the table. "A covering light gown. As you say. The effect will be so much more, when you reveal with your whip, and depending on our mood… the white is perfect to capture red stains. "The way you describe it, I am sure it will make an impression." The glass is lifted to her lips, and Séverine savours a sip of the strong alcoholic beverage. "It will certainly be inspiring." Inspiring, indeed. There is a faint rosy hue that mars the pallor of her face, perhaps from the uisghe. Or perhaps from the vision he conjures.

As one might expect, Baptiste assumes he's brought the color to her lightly freckled face. Baptiste's smirk is triumphant. He's placed his glass slightly behind her so that he needs to lean into her in order to reach for it. While one arm extends for his drink, he other slips about to the small of her back and leans her on backwards until he retrieves his glass and takes another sip. He doesn't stand upright again right away, however, leaving him leaned over her with the other second supported in his grasp. "Good. Then it is decided. I shouldn't discount my creativity or your ability to bring it out in me. Simple is the way to go. A very good suggestion, Severine, and now we have talked ourselves into an event." Baptiste dips his head, at first inhaling the scent of her with his nose pressed near her neck. Then his lips drag along from the hollow of her throat up to one ear, which he nips lightly. "I will let you handle the timing and announcement, hmm? You will be lovely. A perfect and angelic example of your canon. My heart skips a beat and my blood rushes hot and alive at the thought of you. And if we are excited for such an event, anyone who draws breath should be weak with anticipation." he gives her a sharper nip this time and then kisses it better, soft and hot.

"In the meantime, we should spend more time together. Become comfortable with one another. Learn one another, yes? I have known you for years now, Severine, but we have never been close. My new role and our work together will allow our relationship to develop and grow. I look forward to that." when he rises again, he brings her with him, holding her close to his chest and setting his glass down as he moves back into his chair and draws her along for the ride, letting her either curl up in or straddle his lap once he's seated. "We will be perfect."

The way he brings his physicality into play causes Séverine's lashes to flutter, when Baptiste's strategic placement of his glass brings him so close to her, and her slender frame in reach for him. Like high grass giving in to a momentary breeze, she bends, back arching as he leans her back, his arm supportive and of a strength that is to be suspected, admired, yearned for in a true Thorn. Her head turns, neck elongating to give his lips more to brush over. The shiver comes instinctively, even as she manages a reply. "I will have to confer with Jacques," she murmurs, "about when to hold this. As for those that will attend. It should be a select few, and only those clearly interested in the sharper pleasures." That much for their event planning, as she seems content to let the matter rest. When Baptiste straightens, she comes up with him, and a smile flashes on her features, more than the faint smile she usually grants others. "You are right. If we are to work closely together, it is required to deepen our acquaintance…", she allows, lashes lowering as he drags her with him over towards his chair. She will settle in his lap, sideways, her legs dangling down on one side, one arm snaking about him. She is a light, frail-looking thing, especially compared to Baptiste's strong physique. "Would you be able to break me, I wonder?", Séverine muses in light tease.

Another nod, both agreeing with and showing his acknowledgement to how she responds, "Of course. To both. Exclusivity brings in only the best and I feel we are skilled enough that we can deal in quality of patron rather than quantity. That has always been my strategy. Though I find myself lacking in regulars amongst the noblewomen. Some have returned home. Some have moved on in their preferences. There are many that are younger and unfamiliar to me. Perhaps I should be more active in my prowling." his word choice makes him smile and as she settles in his lap, his hand rests along her back while the other begins to move slowly along her thigh. The whisper of his fingers along the silk of her gown is soft and light. The massive hand continues to wander along her leg, occasionally sliding up along her side and midsection, once straying dangerously close to the swell of her bust. "A younger me would say yes, I could certainly break you. A younger me had no lack of confidence but a terrible lack of experience. This older version of me is less certain. That is a mistake our patrons make when they come here. They assume you and yours are weak and easy to break. I have found that not to be the case. Yours is the more difficult role. Any brute with a large frame, strong hands that is well-endowed and arrogant can become what I am." he is simplifying in an attempt to compliment her, "I dominate and use my body to punish and control. You must use your wits and outward submission to guide and force an interaction. Even if I could break you, darling, would I want to? You are not some wilting flower of a noblewoman. You are proud and skilled. Would I get my way with you in the bedroom? Would you submit to my desires? Would I rough you up, cause pain, make you cry out in pleasure? Likely, yes. Would I break you? Unlikely." perhaps he is serious, perhaps it is some ploy! Regardless, he smiles slightly as his hand drags up over her breasts so that he can curl a finger under her chin and hold her in place as he gives her a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Maybe some of the others I could break."

"Maybe I have been too selective, in choosing my patrons of late," Séverine murmurs, settling into his lap and into that arm of his that will steady her. Her gaze follows the trail of his hand over the dark green fabric of her gown. "As you say. Some have moved on." There is a faint wistful look to her eyes as she turns them away from Baptiste for a moment, towards the high windows of the office that shed a somewhat dimmed light. That expression fades, however, when Baptiste replies to her question she could only have meant as some sort of challenge. A smile, quiet but appreciative of his words appears on her features, and in the way her chin lifts just so, he may be able to spot the phenomenon that is a proud Valerian. "A wise response, Baptiste. But I would have expected no less from you. I have had patrons that came to an assignation, convinced that they would make me come undone only, if they brought me far enough to give the Signale. Very much like I am aware of how to push a patron, to give me what I need, you know exactly on how to gain all of your patron's attention, Baptiste. How to push those who wish to be." There is a reaction within her body, he will easily feel as his hand drags up over her front, her chin held still by the tip of his finger, as she turns her head just so to offer him that corner of her mouth. "I am certain of that.", Séverine allows, at least for his last statement. "As for me… perhaps no breaking will be needed after all. I do not crave it. Tonight."

"I am accustomed to causing pain. Your tolerance must be far greater than mine. It doesn't matter that I am larger or stronger. It is a shame that most would not know how to properly utilize a courtesan of your caliber. When the duchesse meets me one day and finally recognizes my own greatness by making me her consort, I will visit you as a man of wealth and influence and nobility and be certain to see your full potential." this is all said as an amusing lark, as if he would go fall in love with a duchesse. Baptiste laughs and gives her a kiss on the cheek. At times, he almost seems like a normal human. Though he is more normal around the salon, there's the sense that he keeps much to himself. His laugh is a small crack in that facade. "I don't think you - or I for that matter - have been too selective. We simply need to meet more people. Why should we have anything but the very best since we ourselves are the very best? We're no longer adepts. Our marques are complete. I have received gifts enough to fill a home. We should be picky. We just need to find the right people. They are out there." Baptiste stands and takes her with him, lifting her easily up and setting her on the edge of the desk. Once they are separated, he smoothes her gown, adjusting and readjusting until he feels she is back to perfect, "Surprise me in my room some time if you'd like. I may not wish to deliberately break you, but I do wish to have my way with you. This has been a fruitful meeting, Severine."

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