(1310-10-20) Wool and Joie
Summary: Evelyne meets Yves, and they engage in a conversation about weddings, skills and exports (!). Quite grown up talk for two so young? Alas. Propriety is not always maintained throughout the exchange.
RL Date: 20/10/2018
Related: None
evelyne yves 

Leaping Fish Inn — Market Promenade

The Main Room of the Leaping Fish is tidy and well-kept - and warmed by a fire in the hearth to one side on colder days and evenings. An old tapestry depicting a pair of two leaping fish is adorning the opposite wall - a reference to both the ruling House of Mereliot and the name of the inn. The common room has five tables of sturdy oak with chairs and benches, between which two serving maids move to take orders or bring food and beverages. The air is filled with tasty smells of freshly cooked meals, and murmurs of conversation - and occasionally even melodies rippling through the room, when a lute player is around to provide entertainment. The fare is of good quality that even would not disappoint noble tastes.

There are stairs leading upstairs towards a number of comfortable and well kept rooms the inn has to offer.

It is late morning. Late enough for a young lady to have already been out and about on her chores in the market. Well. At least one can assume as much. From the pleased smile that adorns the features of Evelyne de Somerville, from the some dimmed scent of apples that surrounds her in obvious contentment. From the way her blonde hairdo bounnces with her confident steps into the common room of the inn. A gesture, for her guard to stand back as she picks out a vacant table and orders some watered red wine with a bit of bread and cheese — a fitting d'Angeline breakfast. The guard moves to a place close by at the wall. Whereas the servant carrying various packages moves into a corner and sets them down with a soft sigh of relief.

Somewhere in the inn, or perhaps from behind it, comes Yves, adjusting his trousers as he walks and trying to get everything situated just right for comfort. Striding into the inn, he spends only a second looking everywhere but at Evelyne and then finally looks towards "his table." Seeing the woman there, clearly finding herself a bit of comfort, he grimaces and makes his way in her direction, "Excuse me," he says and reaches across the table to pick up his drink from behind a decorative arrangement. He lifts it to his lips for a quick drink and then looks towards her, "I'd change seats, but um," he glances around. All of the other tables have managed to fill themselves in the short time since she'd sat down.

A pause then as he thinks about it and really seems to puzzle over the right thing to do here.

"You know what, I'll just see if I can't find a spot .. over, um," he starts looking around again. No spots jumping out at him.

"Oh no!", Evelyne is quick to respond, even if looking a bit flustered once she realizes her mistake. "I should perhaps… as it is your table, my lord…?" Blue eyes flicker a little as they then take in the young man in all his charming appearance and attire. That smile deepens and the scent of apples intensifies a little. "Won't you like to join me… I mean, me to join you. You look like you have just arrived in Marsilikos. And I don't recall having seen you before. I am Evelyne de Somerville.", she introduces herself with a smile. Her accent gives away she is not from Marsilikos, nor from Eisande. It shows the lilt of l'Agnace, and that she is a visitor to Marsilikos rather than one of its permanent inhabitants.

The boy looks a bit flustered as soon as Evelyne begins talking to him and blushes a radiant red, "I, oh, my name? Oh right, I'm Yves Valliers," he introduces himself and performs a bow that is both precise and perhaps a bit much given the situation. Crisp enough it could be used to slice bread. The offer earns her a sort of nod, an acceptance of the offer or perhaps, request, and he doesn't put much more thought into it before he simply takes the seat he'd been in before her arrival. As he pulls out the chair he uses his free hand to relieve himself of the sword at his hip so that it doesn't get tangled up and takes a seat with the sword near at hand. "A pleasure to um," he pauses, "Meet you." His manners are a bit lacking, and his voice is clearly from Camlach.

As far as odd things, he is a scion of Camael, so he has that going for him.

"Yves Valliers, hmm?", Evelyne echoes, leaning back in her seat to give him a look, lingering somewhere between amiable and slightly mischievous. "My lord, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Have you come for the wedding?" The question follows in almost the same breath. "You look very young. A true Camaeline though," the young lady admits with a pointed glance towards his sword. "It would make sense if you came for the wedding, as it is to happen here in Marsilikos." Whether he knows what wedding she may be referring to or not, Evelyne turns her attention away from him for a moment, as her 'breakfast' is being brought - watered wine, bread and cheese, as requested.

"Yes," Yves confirms when she seems to question his name. He shakes his head at the question as to why he came, and explains, "No, whose wedding would that be? I'm here for .." he thinks about how to explain it, "Other reasons. I'm not that young though," he retorts, not liking when he is singled out for his age, as all young men and women are until they come of an age when they wish to return to such singling. Young wishing to be older and older wishing to be young again. He glances at the waitstaff as they bring over the food, but says nothing. He hadn't had a chance to order anything yet.

The question about his age was posed by someone who cannot be all that much older.

"Mine.", Evelyne declares with that smile still in place, but a touch of rosiness touching those cheeks of hers. "And I believe I am young. So young in fact, that my eighteenth natality is onely two days away." This she tells Yves with a charming flutter of eyelids, and yes, she doesn't seem to think the appreciative glance inappropriate she gives him next. "You look old enough to me," is added with a cryptic smile. SHe reaches for the basket with the bread, takes a slice from it and then slides it over to Yves. "The wedding is to take place a week from now. I am to marry out to Camlach. House Basilisque. The Vicomte de Montmarlon, Lord Sébastien." Stating this as if speaking of the weather, before she adds: "Are you staying at the Valliers place?"

"Oh, um.. congratulations, right?" Yves asks and states at the same time, he probably hasn't given very many congratulations over nuptials in the past and hearing what she has to say about age, he thinks about what he'd be told to say with some obvious searching. "You are, yes. I assume you'll be celebrating that as well? You certainly have a busy time ahead of you," he states the obvious and smiles at her politely again. His hands reaching for the bread when she pushes it his way, distracting him from asking her what she'd meant about being old enough. He says a hasty, "Thank you," and proceeds to take a piece as well and set to eating it and washing it down with whatever drink he has in his glass. Starving. "I am, though my brother's wife was talking about how I could stay at the d'Aiglemort townhouse if things were too empty at the Valliers place."

<FS3> Evelyne rolls Politics-2: Failure. (6 5 2 5 3)

"Oh… I admit I've never been at the d'Aiglemort place. But I heard it's quite grand," Evelyne smiles. She takes a bite of the bread and chews it in temporary silence, considering Yves with her gaze. As she reaches for the cheese, she also takes the knife in hand that came with it, and cuts off a morsel to offer to him directly. "Thank you, Lord Yves." She smiles. "My marriage will be a political match. There are no feelings whatsoever involved. And yet I expect to be happy. My eighteenth birthday won't be that grand a thing. Not with the wedding so close. I am certain to see you there. All Camaelines currently in Marsilikos will attend. Most of the nobility, I would think. After all, Her Grace has offered for us to hold the feast at her Palace."

"It's nice, maybe a bit too nice for Roche. It's weird coming here from Camlach," Yves mentions by way of talking about how nice the d'Aiglemort townhouse is, and says no more on the matter unless asked. When she thanks him, he smiles a bit at her without showing teeth, just a little upturning of the mouth and a slight narrowing of the eyes. "I expect the political match is the way of things, isn't it?" he questions and nods his head a little at her explanation, taking the piece of cheese once again, without word or question. Just accepting it and eating it. "I'll be there?" he questions and hearing her explanation he nods his head and narrows his eyes in thought. "I'll, um, have to talk to someone about letting me know these things in advance. I'm," he thinks about how to put it, "Not aware of my calendar."

"It is," Evelyne agrees about a political match being the way of things, and yet she cannot help but roll her eyes a little when she adds, "Still, I had hoped for a bit more time, before the match was arranged." Her fingers, in holding out that piece of cheese to him, manage to brush slightly over his, in a sneaky almost casual gesture, while she watches him, to gauge his reaction. "I don't know about your calendar," the blonde lady admits then, leaning back and instead of dealing with food or his fingers, her hand begins to run over her hair, making sure that do is still somewhat orderly and in place. Hair needles glint in the dimmed light of oil lamps. Grey clouds outside are obscuring the light of the sun. "But I know that invitations have gone out to all nobles currently in the city."

"Invitations, well, I only came into town three days ago," Yves points out. The brush of her fingers doesn't seem to provoke a reaction from him, either because he doesn't notice or because he assumes it was just passing contact. Either he's oblivious or naive, perhaps. "So, maybe I didn't get one because I just got here?" he asks, and then thinking about it, adds, "But I'll make sure to check the stuff they've been bringing to me." Holding up a hand then to flag down one of the waitstaff, he requests, "Can I have some more of whatever the lady ordered? I seem to be eating all of her stuff," he mentions and smiles at them before looking back to Evelyne. "So, are there parties or something for before the wedding or do people just save all the energy for the party itself?" he asks.

"Parties? Fêtes?" Evelyne counters with a chuckle, a bit of amusement glinting in her gaze. "Not for me, I fear. I shall go and visit the Temple of Elua on the morning of the 27th, with my husband, to speak the vows. Then probably proceed to the Temple of Eisheth. For the expected ceremony of lighting my candle. I am after all to bear Sébastien children." A faint blush at that, too faint to be genuine. "Perhaps we will go to the Temple of Naamah as well, but about that part I am not so sure. The great feast will take place in the evening, there will be song and dance… And… yes, should you decide to come to the feast you'd need an attire of combined white and black, or you won't be admitted." Babbling like a brook, this young lady nods her head to the attendant. "Yes, more bread and cheese, the lord and I are starving!" Attention shifting back to Yves, she says after a moment at a lower volume, "If you are looking for fetes and diversions, my lord, you should absolutely visit the Night Court of Marsilikos. I heard there are debuts upcoming. And even apart from that… I have found the salons to be truly delightful."

"Is that how it works?" Yves asks of her after she h as given the full explanation of the series of events and nods his head a bit to himself as he digests the information for perhaps the first time, or perhaps for the first time as an adult who might be expected to participate in such. He'd likely been made to understand over the years at least once, but young men who are bound for battle tend to have their mind on other things. "White and black," he confirms and thinks about something and then says, "I don't think I have anything really specifically white and black like that. You mean like, mostly white?" he asks.

The question of diversions earns her some focus and he blushes, genuinely, at her suggestion of going to the Night Court, but the debuts at least earns a nod.

"I have been told several times," he admits.

<FS3> Evelyne rolls Perception: Good Success. (8 5 7 4 2 4)

"Why? Yes!" Evelyne exclaims. "Yes, it does." And she giggles a little at Yves' obliviousness to these things. "Have you been too caught up in the virtues of Camael as not to know? How cute!" She seems amused at this, abut also a little intrigued. As for the question of attire, she shakes her head, a bit vehemently perhaps. "Not white. Not all in white. Because that would be what I will wear. You can wear white with something black to go along with it." The theme had after all for her to decide, and so Evelyne is glad to clarify. "As for the Night Court…", again her eyes find his and she notes the blush. "Really. You should check it out. There are diversions there for every taste."

"I'll have to see if my brother has anything in my size, or maybe one of my cousins," Yves decides when she explains about the attire, completely ignoring or perhaps too uncertain how to answer as to why he is oblivious. He says nothing of virtues, he simply tries to look pleasant and when the second serving of food shows up, he is quick to stuff his face and distract himself from the topics being discussed. Blushing, his eyes looking anywhere but at Evelyne as he sips and eats a series of things, and seems to be deliberately making an effort to make it clear why he isn't saying anything. Still chewing.

"Of course." Evelyne seems content to leave it at that, eating leasurely and now and then taking a sip from her glass of watered wine. That blush though. It makes her brows lift, his awkwardness diverting her, and may tempting her to do silly things.

"Are you any good with the sword…?", the Somerville lady inquires with an innocent smile, while somewhere, below the table there is a soft sound of a slipper landing on the floor. A light brush then, felt against his shin, of a stockinged foot. Casual almost. But then again, not really.

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

When she changes the subject to swordsmanship, the youth suddenly finds himself capable of speech again and swallows with haste. "I'm capable, my father wouldn't have let me come here and disgrace the family with poor swordsmanship," he answers with a bit of a laugh and then the laughing suddenly stops as he feels the touch to his leg. But as one might expect of a decent young man with a sense of composure, he doesn't leap away or jump to the nearest table, instead he simply leans his chair back ever so slightly so that he can look down and figure out what it is and the best way to kill whatever it is. But instead of seeing a rat, he finds himself looking at a foot, and his eyes go wide and he slowly tilts his chair back, swallowing again. Blushing.

<FS3> Evelyne rolls Composure: Failure. (2 6 3 4 2 5)

Oh those subtle reactions. Evelyne observes them with a wicked glint in her eyes, the scent of apples intensifying just so. "You missed the great tournament," she informs him following the topic of conversation whereas her focus rests… elswhere. The cheeky foot wiggles its stockinged toes at Yves as he glances down at it, in some sort of mock greeting. It slides a bit higher towards the knee, along the outer side of his lower leg. While the smile deepens, lips parting to release a light silvery giggle. "Yves Valliers," she murmurs. "You are truly delightful."

Blinking those eyes of his slowly as his breathing suddenly stops and his heart pounds in his chest, doing his best to remain composed, he turns his focus to his bread and chews on it slowly. Breathing through his nose, not audibly, but with deliberation. Counting his breaths, centering himself, and trying not to respond. "Um, thank you?" he replies, not certain what the appropriate response to this situation is. His legs staying firmly planted where they are, not pulling away, because that'd cause some sort of scene. He doesn't seem afraid or lacking in any sort of virtuous respect, simply instead, he seems to be unsure. Perplexed. He can't resolve this issue with his sword.

Well. Where he grew up he maybe hadn't been confronted with a young lady so eager to embrace Elua's Precept of 'Love as Thou Wilt!'. Sensing his tension, Evelyne finally has a heart and withdraws her foot, sliding it back into the shoe beneath the table. "That Alyssum touch will make the ladies crazy," the young lady remarks with a smirk. "Make sure to keep that up. Ane be prepared to more of my kind jumping at you, my lord. You are lucky though…" She bites her lower lip, leaning a touch forward. "With my nuptials being as close, I should better behave." Said with a wink as she leans back again and takes another idle sip from her wine. "I know a little swordplay myself," comes a perhaps surprising confession after a moment or two. "My older brothers used to practice with me. With wooden swords."

When she pulls her foot back, he swallows again and puts the remainder of the piece of bread he'd been eating back onto the plate in front of him. Finally allowing himself to relax just a touch. He doesn't say anything about any sort of touch, and in fact only really seems to be starting to process when she begins to explain about other women "jumping" at him, which earns a faint sort of nod of the head. Like an accepted warning. He'd have to learn to be cautious of situations in which he could be cornered and flirt'd upon, in the future. "That's good," he says when she mentions that she had learned some swordplay with her brothers. "A good weighted wooden sword is just as good for practice as a steel one," he mentions. Finding his strength again, when swordplay is being discussed. "Some might swear by live steel, but I say a bruise might not be as good a reminder as a missing finger, but I don't think I've ever heard of anyone being unable to fight in the future after training with wood."

"Well. I'm not excessively good at it," Evelyne admits. "And I remember Laurent especially taking delight in showing off his skill against me. It is just something, I pondered I might revisit, now that I am to become a Camaeline. What about horse-riding? I competed at the horse race during the tournament. I didn't win. Though, I came in second." She takes another sip from her glass, almost draining it. "I am much better at horse-riding than I am at sword-fighting or all that court stuff…"

The young man nods his head at her explanation. "That's unworthy," Yves says when she mentions that her brother had delighted in showing off against her. "Like hunting your pet cat to show off your skill at hunting." The question of horse riding earns her a bit of a nod of the head, and he goes back to looking just a touch perplexed and uncertain how to respond. "I can ride as well, though probably not um, so well as you," he mentions. Taking another sip of his own to mirror hers, he listens to her explanation and nods his head a bit more. His earlier uncertainty erased and now replaced with one that stems from wholly different subjects. "Do you know if your um, future husband plans to bring you back to Camlach?" he asks.

"Oh… Laurent and I laughed about it back then, so I believe I took it all in good spirit," Evelyne replies with a smile. "He's been to Marsilikos as well, lately, but he already left after a brief time, heading home to Thiviers." They are in safer waters now, as it seems, and the blonde Somerville proceeds as if their earlier little interlude had not happened at all. "I suppose, Sébastien and I will head to Montmarlon sometime after the wedding. After all, I need to meet his Basilisque family. That is, those that are not here. I am to learn speficis about my new station. And new duties. Which, I admit, I as of yet have clue about."

"Oh, I misunderstood then," Yves says when she explains that it'd been a different kind of showing off. The young man nods his head at the continued mention of her uncertainty of where she'd be traveling or what her duties would be. He certainly has no idea what those will be either, and so he simply remains mute on the subjects—simply and obviously glad not to feel so awkward anymore. "It's cold, you'll want to plan for it ahead of time," he offers. "Wool."


This train of thought seems to surprise Evelyne. "But yes. You are right. Perhaps I should mention such to Sébastien. I have no idea, where House Basilisque gets their wool. Well… I suppose we have wool in l'Agnace as well… given the many sheep." She chuckles a little at that. "And House Somerville is famous for their apple brandy and cider."

"From us," Yves supplies. "The Valliers family has lots of wool, joie and um.. wood," he explains to Evelyne and nods his head slowly at her. "Lots of wood and wool. I'll get you some for your wedding present," he tells her with a nod of the head. He's probably not supposed to explain this to her ahead of time.

"We'll see about that," Evelyne smiles, and finishes up her little breakfast. "But if I had to pick… it would be joie." A glance to her servant who gives her a look as new people enter the inn, and another to her guard, and the Somerville sighs softly. "It has been nice meeting you, Yves…" Dropping the formal address as she leans forward to take his hand, "And I hope to see you at the wedding. But I must go. So much more things I need to deal with today." With a soft rustle of skirts, she rises from her seat, to offer the young man a charming curtsey. "Have a good day, my lord.", she tells him, before she turns and reclaims her cloak, then leading the way out of the inn while her guard and her servant follow.

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