(1310-09-23) Losing Control
Summary: A lady loses her temper and comes to a conclusion.
RL Date: 23/09/2018
Related: Closing Feast, Trouble Comes Knocking and Another Lesson.
irene cyriel 

Irene's Chambers — Dome of the Lady

Lady Irene d'Eresse is feeling much better now even if not good enough to leave her chambers. She has been following the rules set up by the fierce lady Emmanuelle Shahrizai nó Mandrake. It was more for the safety of her servants than her own desperate wish to survive a heavy lungs disease caught during a simple voyage to the countryside during the rain.

This early morning a young lady has been washed up with an assistant of serving girls and got dressed up in a new nightgown suitable for an early wandering around the home. Sheer, weightless and crafted from a soft silk, it absolutely radiates seemingly flawless innocence. The whiteness of the fabric gives it a certain touch of fragileness as well. Without the ties around the waist, it flows freely and formless, with countless pleats pulling the mass of the fabric in around the round neckline. The skirt of the dress flares out from the ties, creating an enviable silhouette. To make it more glamorous, lace of the chemise is adorned with smallest pieces of silver creating an illusion of stardust.

Currently, the young lady is sitting on the wide swill and her eyes watch the courtyard. Her fingers hold an apple tart made by the talented Mademoiselle Audrialla. Her bare toes are dancing on a sill as well as the girl seems to be in a cheerful mood. Her serving girl is tidying the bed and cups, plates where the medicine is hold.

A knock would announce the arrival of a visitor - in case the maid would have admitted him to the chamber, that is. It is a firm knock, executed with that precisely measured amount of force to make it a staccato that will draw attention. Should the lady elect to look his way, she will see Chariel Charlot, and such contrast in bearing, attire and colors he will be. Dressed in that impeccable manner that is required when visiting the palace, his doublet and breeches are of Charlot red and black. Brown hair that wuóuld usually reach to his shoulder is bound into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. There is no fragility there, in the way he lifts his chin, and has his pale blue eyes settle upon Irene where she so leisurely lounges.

"My lady." The greeting comes at a low volume, the words no less pronounced and clear as they ring through the chamber. "I wished to see you are well. And it seems you are, so…" He pauses, considering perhaps his own wording. "And still, you are confined to your chambers, or so I hear?"

The servant girl will let the visitor in but even if his presence is announced, the young lady remains watching down at the courtyard instead of looking back at the man. However, she turns around and waves for the house servant to leave when Cyriel himself speaks up. That is when lady Irene slides down from the sill and offers a polite curtsy, "M'lord," she softly speaks, "thank you for paying me a visit. I am still not leaving my chambers as I did not receive permission from lady Emmanuelle Shahrizai nó Mandrake. She is the one who saved my life and I shall definitely obey to her rules." Then she turns toward the girl who was ready to close the door behind herself and adds, "Please, bring us some refreshments. That is if the lord plans staying here for a moment?" Her brown gaze wanders back towards Cyriel as Irene gestures to a couple of chairs and a table.

The curtsey is observed with a faint ghost of a smile, and Cyriel meets it with a bow. The rules and patterns of courtesy are a standard most Kushelines are aware of, and the Charlot lord is no exception. The mention of Emmanuelle elicits a lift of his brows. "I've heard as much," he responds, gaze flickering faintly as he takes a step closer. "And…? Do you find the act of obeying to be to your liking?" It might be a light jest, inspired perhaps from Emmanuelle nó Mandrake's personality. "A glass of wine, if you have, red. Of Kusheth, if possible," Cyriel instructs the maid, not even pulling his gaze away from the Eresse lady, and yet his tone makes it very clear that it is not Irene he is addressing. His hand lifts, to touch against her elbow and guide her gently towards the chairs she had indicated. "If the Lady Shahrizai nó Mandrake has objections to my visit, she may address them directly to me.", this said towards Irene. "But I actually doubt she will. We spoke briefly, when I met her in the rooftop gardens."

Irene follows the man's lead to take a seat and she chooses not to answer to his jest about the obedience. Though, once she settles down, a young lady looks up at Cyriel and shakes her head. "Lady Shahrizai nó Mandrake has no objections of me being visited by anyone. She simply said that I can be visited three times per day by one person for twenty minutes. Now that I am feeling better she allows five visits per day for not more than thirty minutes. Otherwise she threatened to cause a lot of pain to her house servants who seemed to be absolutely fearful of her…" Irene shrugs and shakes her head one more time. "I do not agree with her methods but I do know that she is talented. She said I was brought to her hands right on time. Few hours later would have caused me to lose my life. I already was coughing blood. But…" She flinches. A third shake of her head pushes the memory away. "It's very improper of me to go into such details. Terrible imagine, even disgusting. You know, I have been visited by three people during all this time. It was my brother, and…" Lady Irene grins broader. "Lady Ailene Trevalion together with her cousin lord Narcisse. It seems that lady Ailene had to visit me since she was scolded by you? The whole time when she was here, she was trying to prove being worthy of a match with your cousin lord Thibault. She was very upset that you did not enjoy her company."

Irene's explanation has Cyriel's features twist into a grin. "How very effective a motivation. Threats being used in the name of a swift recovery. I am impressed." He seems to approve of Emmanuelle's drastic measures, at least he does not speak up against them. "If what you say is true, you owe the lady now quite a bit, for saving you from death." His tone remains detached, and yet the pale blue gaze lingering on her attentively with a hint of concern. "I may have paid you a visit sooner," he tells Irene, "but I wasn't aware your health would be that gravely affected. It looked like a mere fever to me. And then again… when I heard you had been transferred to the palace, I chose to grant you those days of recovery. I would hardly intend to interfere with you regaining your full health…" Words trail off, as Irene informs him about the visitors she had received, and his brows furrow a little at what Irene mentions of Ailene Trevalion.

"Did I scold her?" The Charlot seems to be a bit at a loss there, "I cannot recall having done such a thing. We met briefly during the closing feast of the tournament. She was with my cousin Thibault, and now that you mention it… she made a very inappropriate remark about you and I… followed by a very… misplaced demonstration of affection between her and Thibault, right there in the middle of the feast, under glances of all courtiers and Her Grace. Maybe I recommended Thibault to seek his diversions in the Night Court. But this would not have been a remark that was addressed to her." He falls silent then, leaving the whole matter of match-making uncommented. Knowing Cyriel, Irene would expect him to show little interest in voicing his thoughts or recommendations there.

"It was very wise of you. Thank you, m'lord," Irene comments on the matter of not being visited too soon. Maybe these hours of loneliness in the recovery were gravely needed that the girl would heal not only from the disease but some poisonous thoughts she might have had since the day when she arrived to Marsilikos. Now that she seems to have fully recovered mind and heart, her body is also showing way less of a weakness. Even her appetite is back and she takes out a bite of her apple tart. "I hope you don't mind? I have only one left and I do feel hungry," she explains. "A servant girl should come back to you soon with some wine."

The other matter lady Irene waves off with her hand. "Lady Ailene was quite offended when I said to her that she might have mistaken your words. I also might have warned her that the decision of marriage is not in lord Thibault's and her hands. I received a very proper Trevalion tirade of their greatness. She still presented the fact that her brother lord Augustin is the greatest swordsman in the country when we all know that he suffered his first defeat." Irene grins at that.

"She tried to give praises to her cousin lord Narcisse as if trying to play matchmaking with me. Though, I told her that I leave my marriage question to my brother Gauge. She then proudly bragged of her own will and freedom to choose a proper match and make her family proud." Irene takes another bite out of a tart adding, "She also bragged about dancing bare-breasted with your cousin lord Thibault what I do not find very suitable to someone of such a highly respected house as Trevalion. But anyway, I am sure that my chit-chatter is boring you, m'lord." With these words a servant girl comes back and brings wine to both Cyriel and Irene.

<FS3> Cyriel rolls Politics: Good Success. (7 3 3 6 8 5 2)

"Please. Eat. It will help you with your recovery," Cyriel tells her, gesturing with his hand for her to continue with enjoying her apple tart. "I am not hungry, anyway." He listens to an Eresse tirade then, rolling his eyes ever so faintly, when matchmaking and the rules of such become a topic — despite his attempts to evade such. "Going by family connections, I can see my cousin, the Comte de Charlot being quite appreciative of such a match.", he allows quietly. "She is the daughter of the Marquis d'Evreux. But it would be wise to put forth a suggestion before… reports of conduct might reach him. Bare-chested?", he frowns in echoing one of Irene's words. "Perhaps this was a detail shared in confidence. But I suppose, I should speak with Thibault and educate him how to maintain a proper liaison — without ruining the reputation of a young lady, and her chances in getting properly matched. Some facts better stay in the bedroom." The Charlot's features twist into a faint smile. "Which leads me to the question… Have you shared, by chance, anything about our particular episode, with anyone?"

Lady Irene listens to Cyriel's opinion while eating a tart. His question makes her cough. Or maybe it's her illness. After all, her lungs were affected and she still has some wilder coughing waves. But this was only one brief cough followed by a longer pause. "I am not lady Ailene. I do not walk around telling everybody of my activity. I believe that you should know by now that I do not have a particularly large amount of friends and I may be found alone more often than in a company of others. I only told it to my brother Belmont who has been my confidant since the day I was born. You shall not worry, m'lord, that any kind of rumors regarding a possible association with me will ruin your reputation. Even lady Ailene tried to make a remark that you are mine. I can assure you that I was pretty clear with her that she should not make assumptions like that and spread rumors." A beat. "I also should apologize you. I was out of control and acted like a child." A pause again. "Like a stalker of sorts. My mind is clear now and I can only be ashamed of my annoying behaviour. I am sorry."

Cyriel Charlot narrows his pale blue eyes, at that particular remark of Irene. "I know you are not Lady Ailene." His lips curve into a faint smile at that. "But keeping friends, at least outwardly, helps to stay in the loop of things." It is an observation, made lightly, but not without deeper implications, as his look towards her betrays. "I trust in your discretion, Irene. I have, in fact, trusted you all the way. Knowing, that it would only take a mere look from me…" His gaze flashes darkly, "to sense any betrayal on your part." Leaning forward, he holds her gaze, captures it and wraps it into the light blue blanket of his stare; trapping her with his eyes while his hand touches against her cheek, slender fingers that show the callus of regular sword practice coming to rest on delicate skin and flesh. "You have changed," Cyriel realizes. "But not as much as you wish to make me believe. Your mind is clear?" His nostrils flare faintly. "You were out of control? Did you enjoy the control I had over you, and wish to revisit it again?" That touch is broken, fingers pulled away as the Charlot lord leans back in his seat. "Or is this your way to severe ties and end whatever it is that we had?" His voice sounds flat, devoid of any emotion, but the brightness in his eyes gives his look an intensity.

<FS3> Irene rolls Composure: Good Success. (5 8 3 3 7 5 7 1)

That light blue blanket of his stare is the softest blanket a young lady wishes to curl up every evening in. And that touch of her cheek brings a much faster and more lively beat to her heart. Irene seems to stop in that moment while her dark eyes can focus on his. Her lips part lightly to exhale a gust of warm feelings but then she raises her chin up and straightens up in her seat. "What we had?" Irene questions the man. "M'lord, there are no ties to severe. You so many times pushed me aside and I kept coming back to you as if I would be a stupid teenage girl in love. I was not able to hear your words or I chose not to believe into them. I /wanted/ you. When you go out of the comfort of you home into the bigger world, you still believe that everything is possible. I guess I needed a harsh lesson to learn, and I have learn. It doesn't matter what I wish. One can not be forced into anything they do not desire." A beat. "However, I re-spect you. I hope that you will stay safe in whatever you are planning on doing as I do not wish for the brightest star of Marsilikos to be swallowed by a dark cloud," she chuckles at her comparison. "Even if I have to only watch it from afar and wait for what the angels have prepared for me. I am ready now."

<FS3> Cyriel rolls Perception: Failure. (3 3 1 6 4 5)
<FS3> Cyriel rolls Empathy: Failure. (4 3 6)

She is affected by his gesture? But his attempt of getting Irene in line seems to fail. The brightness in his eyes dims, his features caught in an unmoving cast, while Cyriel Charlot listens to the young lamb's announcements and declarations. "You regret coming to me then?", he asks lightly, and it is only the ghost of a smirk that sneaks onto his hawkish features. "But I take this as your request for me to maintain a distance towards you in the future." The glass of red wine sits on the table, as of yet untouched. Cyriel looks towards it as if remembering it was there, but he doesn't move to reach for it. "I thank you for wishing me well in my endeavours. I shall do the same in regards to yours. Stay safe. Lady Irene." At this he moves to stand, wood creaking in the chair as he rises. "If that will be all?" The Vicomte de Chavagne executes a courteous bow towards Irene, and perhaps he looks a bit dashing in his red and black colors. It is then, that his gaze finds hers again and he adds, "Please, one last thing. Should you find yourself in need of an ally sometime… Let me know. I still owe you a favor." Said, as he already steps away and moves towards the door.

Irene sits down there with her head lowered. With an each word which comes from Cyriel her fingers start to tremble more. The moment when he is at the door, a young lady jumps to her feet. "YOU ARE STUPID!" She shouts and rushes toward the man to touch his shoulder with her hand. "I am even more stupid. I made the promise to just be strong and serious, and live only for my family. I do not want to make fun out of myself, but Cyriel… I love you." But then she gently pushes him aside if he does not avoid her touch. "And I hate you for you just see me as an ally and nothing more. I hate you for I know that you will never be mine. I want you to go away but even more I want you to stay. I hate Elua and his companions. I hate everything what we have here for I want you and only for myself. Forever. And while others sometimes speak ill of you, I just want to stab them! I know you are cold but I like it anyway." She laughs at this even if her eyes are filling with tears and anger, a huge mixture of emotions. "Don't go. You are my strength. I am in control when I am with you."

<FS3> Cyriel rolls Composure: Good Success. (8 5 4 1 1 8)

The shout stops Cyriel's progress. He pauses and looks back towards Irene, only to see her rushing at him. It may be due to his composure, that he endures that touch of hers to his shoulder, and the nudge that follows. In fact, he stands there, unmoving and reliable like a rock in the heavy tide. "You are too quick in deciding your affections," the Kusheline tells her in slight reproach, his tone calm but his brows furrowing at Irene's impulsive reaction. "And clearly, control is the thing you are lacking, right now. You hate the Companions? Why? Do they take me away from you? They don't. They are the very reason that you are as you are right now, shivering and asking me for… what exactly? To declare an affection for you that I don't have?" Cyriel frowns, as he holds her gaze, looking into her eyes, his arms hanging down at his sides, not even moving to offer a comforting embrace. "You hate me. You are saying so yourself. You owe it to yourself and your family, to sever any ties then. Before any of this can become unpleasant and harmful — to me but also to you, Lady Irene."

"You have no affection for me at all?" Irene closes her eyes and tears start to ripple down her cheeks. "So, I am nothing more but an asset to be used and a debt you feel obliged to pay?" She opens her eyes again and looks straight at Cyriel. "If this is the case then there is nothing I can do. I release you from your debt, m'lord. You can walk out through this door and severe all the ties we might have had." Lady Irene then turns around to walk back toward the table.

<FS3> Cyriel rolls Composure-2: Success. (7 4 3 4)

A rare thing happens, when Cyriel's features lose their unmoving cast and reveal a brief flash of sentiments he usually hides so well. There is concern there, but also anger and frustration. "Stupid lamb," he calls after her, swift steps moving in pursuit of the young lady as she elects to walk away. Until she is caught by a pair of arms, wrapping about her from behind, not so much a gesture of affection but of steadying her, of keeping a lamb that is out of her mind from hurting herself. The grip is firm, firm enough to keep her from slipping away. It may also knock the breath from her lungs for a moment. "It was you who wished to sever the ties," Cyriel speaks, his words a low, menacing grumble. "And it is you who demands for me to declare a thing that does not exist. At least not for me. I have offered you a road upon which we can continue, but apparently. Apparently that road is not to your taste." The tone remains outwardly calm, but there is something boiling below the surface. "While there may be some things I would do to add to your happiness, I will not lie to keep you under a false impression of my intentions. In this, I am kept to the rules imposed on my by Naamah and Kushiel. Forget about the debt, if this helps you to cope with this… rejection. I will not be so cruel as take full advantage of you by resorting to lies." His tone is firm, and with a sigh he lets go of her, allowing Irene to proceed on her way if she so wishes. "I had felt obliged to call, I was concerned for your health. But it seems, I shouldn't have come and paid this call to you in the first place. For that… I apologize."

Lady Irene freezes in the man's grasp. Her chest desperately tries to raise up and down in quite a fast pace as she is crying and can not stop herself from not doing it. Her tears ripple down her cheeks, and then chin, and then falls down to the man's arms which grasp her. When the man lets go of her, Irene does not turn toward him. "I love you and I know that I will never fall in love again. Call me an artist if you want, but I have their sensitive heart. I want you to remember this in case you will change your mind and will become interested in developing our relationship from me being your asset to me being someone more. But you are right. It would not be fair of me to chase someone who doesn't want to be chased. I thank you for your honesty and your guidance. You are a great man, m'lord." She wraps her own arms around herself. "I am not angry at you and I will never be. I guess I am not yet grown up to leave the shelter of my home. I feel as a stranger in this city who watches the rest from the shadows to be happy. I will better go home to Beaucare and assist my brother." Then she turns around. Even if her cheeks are wet and her eyes red, the young lady wears a smile and she looks up at Cyriel. "I do not regret coming to you. My time with you was the best moments of my short stay at Marsilikos. I thank you for that and you will always be welcomed at Beaucare."

"You are young still. Love… seems like such a great word…", Cyriel replies, considering the stains of tears Irene has left upon his sleeves. His expression suggests he is not minding them much. "In the end, as you said, it will count nothing in the great scheme of things, as who we might end up with says little about the affections we may hold. You, my lady, have been an… intriguing acquaintance. But I agree, it would not be of benefit for us to continue, if our expectations differ so greatly." Her offer of him visiting her at Beaucare earns her a faint smile. "Perhaps. But I wouldn't come by without writing to you first. Who knows? Maybe your brother will elect to send you to Elua instead? Until you leave, I shall refrain from visiting the Palace unless there is a fête or an official occasion." He pauses, giving her a long look. "You already have learned so much about the ways of the court. I shall regret you no longer being available… for my purposes."

A last look is given to Lady Irene d'Eresse, before Cyriel Charlot offers her a final bow of goodbye and takes his leave.

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