(1310-10-28) A Perfect Match
Summary: The morning after the wedding night brings some answers — and some sort of reconciliation.
RL Date: November 2nd, 2018
Related: After the Feast
sebastien evelyne 

Baslisique Residence — Marsilikos


A few rays of sun pierce through the curtains and one of them escapes to tickle the tip of Evelyne’s nose. The dust particles slowly float in the golden warmth contrasting to the dark decor of the new vicomtesse’s bedroom. The cool autumn pushes inside the room through slightly ajar window making the curtains dance. The smell of the alcohol is no longer present but the tired moan of cracking wood is still audible as barely alive flames wrap their arms around it in the fireplace.

A soft and puffy pillow beside Evelyne betrays of an unexisted presence of her husband throughout the whole night. Though, a large bouquet made of roses lay on that pillow. Those roses seem to have all shades of autumn: burning red, warming yellow, playful orange, lively green and rusty brown. They have been made of bended and adjusted leaves of already naked maple trees.

If a young vicomtesse would decide to turn around and leave the comfortable bed sheets, she would find her toes kissed by the dew which still rests on some of the leaves laid down under her feet.

Those leaves form a pavement as if a small road across the forest at this time of year. It weaves from her bed towards the door which is tightly shut.

Evelyne’s sleep had been a little uneasy at times, stirring her a few times during the night, where she — in a state of half-awake daze — had reached out to find the spot beside her in the bed vacant. Drifting back into that state of alcohol- and fatigue-induced slumber, she had vivid dreams, probably. If one could tell from the disarray of the sheets and blanket in the morning. Wrapped into the strangely chaste garment of a man’s shirt, the young woman stretched, finally awakening. A low yawn escapes her and she sits up, definitely awake now, blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders in disarray, the jewelry of the snake still coiled about the base of her neck has left marks on the skin beneath where it had been crushed against her flesh, during her moments of turning during the night.

A glance towards the untouched pillow beside her and a frown begins to form on Evelyne’s features, when memories of last night, and the unpleasant ending of their great day begin to return. There is only a faint softening of the gaze, as she notices the floral offering made of leaves, and nothing can hold back the soft sigh, as she swings her legs out of the bed, to rise. The soles of her bare feet touch against something cold and moist, and she glances down, startled at first. Before her features twist into a faint wry grin and she follows the trail of leaves all the way to the door. Nevermind her rather informal attire, she uses the handle to pull the door open and glance out of the room.

The trail of leaves continues in the hallway and it leads to another set of doors where she has not yet been. The door is slightly open and one can see that the road still continues inside that room. The trembling light flickers through that opening suggesting that the room might be lit by additional candle lights or be a simply much brighter room than the rest.

One should open the door a bit wider in order to glance better inside. That room indeed is filled with many candles and they provide enough warmth that the fireplace is empty. There is also a table and two chairs in the corner of that room. Both turned away from the door and focus on two easels. Both of those easels have a portrait of a female. They seem to be identical, except the color of her hair. One has very dark brown, and the other has brightly red.

In the circle of candles on the ground lies a blanket with wine and refreshments such as cheese, ham, apples and a pie.

Sebastien still in his late evening attire: leather trousers and a snake pendant, is sitting on one of those chairs and looking at the portraits.

Evelyne’s attire is far from appropriate, but perhaps it is proper enough. At least she is somewhat covered. Bare feet make a tapping sound on the floor as the young vicomtesse circles the pair of easels, letting the surreal arrangement of candles and offerings impress upon her, before she walks over to the vacant chair. She is aware of Sebastien’s presence, and she gives him a long, thoughtful look, before she sits down where he must have intended her to sit. With her hands folding neatly in her lap, the young wife lifts her gaze to regard the two portraits, considering the paintings for a long moment.

Through the silence the low whiff of candles burning can be heard. A soft creak of a chair. But Evelyne remains silent. Tilting her head a little, blinking slowly, as she turns her gaze back to her husband. “Rousseau has red hair,” she states softly, the soft rise in pitch of her voice suggesting it is a question more than a statement. Or perhaps a question, the rest of which remains unvoiced.

Sebastien stays quiet for awhile after Evelyne’s question echoes in the room. His eyes on the portraits. Though, the time comes when he parts his lips in order to break the silence again. His breathing is slow and the grip on the chair handles tightens. This stresses out that the words are quite heavy on his chest. “Rousseau has red hair.” He repeats before slowly licking his lips. “I apologize for my behaviour yesterday.” He swallows a gulp of emotions. “The past has hunted me down and I might be still too tightly clinging to it than I expected.”

He turns to take a glance at Evelyne. “I shall be a better man because you are so sweet and kind, and understanding. I am not suppose to repeat my mistakes…” The latter words get stuck in his throat and the man looks back at the portraits. “I was eighteen when I had to marry. My own father blackmailed me into it. I… I loved Hadrian. He was our stable boy and my friend, and yet my father felt somehow ashamed of the behaviour of his heir. I don’t know what he did not Hadrian but I have never seen him again.”

A couple of long breaths make a pause.

There is a nod. Evelyne listens in silence to what Sebastien has to say to her. There may be a moment, now and then, when she seems to be about to make an interjection, but then she decides against it. Those blue eyes hold his gaze, or at least meet it whenever Sebastien looks towards her. When he begins his confessions about the stable boy, Evelyne turns her gaze to the circle of candles, her lips curling just so. “I suppose, the objections were because of his station, not so much his gender?”, the young woman muses softly. “Elua teaches us to love as we will. There is no fault in desiring those of the same sex.” Her shoulders lift in a light shrug. “At least this is how I see it. So… you were not particularly fond of your wife? What was her name?”

Sebastien chuckles but this is an expression of anger and sounds more like a snort. “Love as we will was not what my father believed in. He was a very… strict man as well as my mother. They did not believe in such a thing as love. As my father once told me, a man is supposed to love a woman and this is how we were born, I can not proceed the line with another man. He even laughed asking when I am going to start wearing dresses. Lets just say that my father had his own issues and… well… this is not the point. He is dead now and I stand in his place.” Sebastien straightens up in his seat.

“I loved her as a friend. I respected her. I wanted that she would be happy because I felt this was so not fair for she had to marry me. She deserved so much more and this match was rushed, and had very little politics in it. It was only a father’s revenge on me of sorts. And yet I was not able to love her the way she wanted…” Sebastien sighs. “We got into a couple of fights and I decided to run away. I left her when she was pregnant with my child. I sailed off for four years…”

Evelyne’s head moves in a slow shake, her brows lifting as she states, “I cannot believe he did that to you. When there is always the simple solution of… marrying a political match, and taking your lover as your consort. At least that is what I would think.” Her gaze brightens a little. “Don’t feel bad thinking I might expect you to love me. This is an arrangement we both agreed on as we felt we could get along well. And I still believe…” Her voice takes on a slight tremble and she breaks off, glancing for a moment away from him, towards the window. “I still believe this can work, even after the bad start we had. If we… remember to respect each other. Learn how to hold the other in some esteem and trust. I may seem flighty to you, but I stand by my word, Sebastien…” At which she looks towards her husband again, chin lifting slightly even as a faint smile forms. “I admit that you hurt me last night… in your intention to take away my…” She pauses, “freedom and ridicule me, in front of everyone by placing a chaperone by my side. An open sign to all others I might meet, that you of all don’t trust me.”

Her eyelashes move in a slow blink. “If you need to make sure that I stay faithful in the time we are hoping for me to conceive your child… do it more subtly. Have a female servant spy on me. But… don’t put me in Madame Clémence’s charge.” Evelyne regards Sebastien, unphased apparently by his confessions. “You left your other wife, and I can understand she may have felt abandoned, but you returned, after all. Didn’t you? Rousseau is your pride and joy. So something good came of it, after all.”

“I apologize for trying to put you in Madame Clémence’s charge…” Sebastien states before hearing out Evelyne’s praises to his son. The man smiles and a pride lights up in his eyes, Though, that pride is obviously overshadowed by a cloud which grows even more vivid when he looks back at the portraits. “I may have trust issues, Evelyne. I know I should give you a chance to prove to me that you can be trusted and…” He coughs a little bit in order to give himself time to find other words.

After a pause the Basilisque vicomte continues while his eyes study the red hair of the lady in the portrait. “But I also have to prove to you that you can trust me. I want our relationship to work. I hope to develop love and that is why I have to admit that I am a very flawed man.” He finds courage to look back at his wife. The man blinks a few times and inhales.

“I love Rousseau. He is my pride. He is my son and yet my wife never had red hair…” He sighs. “It was very easy to trick the whole world since her family cared little of her, and we lived in the small mountain city. She died very soon giving birth to my second son. The boy did not survive as well. So, I never learned if that was /my/ son. Evelyne, she also told me that this is a political union and she does not expect love. So, she found this handsome red haired man who was her guard and… I couldn’t tarnish her reputation or put Rousseau in a very unpleasant position. And so I…” He sighs again and looks down to his own lap.

It is strange indeed. The strangers they are to each other, they try to breach the gap, to save whatever little there can be in a marriage and relationship as fresh as theirs.

“I would like to trust you, Sebastien.”, Evelyne replies softly. “And I can understand that finding such trust will be hard — unless we spend time with each other. In all possible situations. I could very well imagine us two going to the salons, picking out diversions to entertain us together, if such pleases you, or each on their own. Don’t be alarmed… I can certainly find pleasure with female servants of Naamah. It wouldn’t be the first time…” A smirk evolves from that faint smile. “Or… if such would be too intimate a thing to pursue early on, we can spend time together in other ways. Riding out together, you teaching me some more skill with the blade…” The smile blossoms more fully. “There are many ways for us to become more comfortable with each other.”

After that, she grows silent again, granting Sebastien the time he needs to utter his grave statements. “Rousseau is your son,” Evelyne states after a moment. “You care for him, and he cares for you. That is what counts. Not some… red-head guard who fathered a bastard on her. It is not his fault. Nor is it yours.” Adding her tiny tidbit of an opinion there, in case it would count.

“Oh, Evelyne, you are so sweet and so innocent…” Sebastien smiles at his wife. “Come,” he offers extending his hand towards her. Though, he remains seating and his other hand pats his knee gently as if he is offering that she would sit on his lap. “I wish that all people would be so open minded as you are. Unfortunately, those who smile at you and pretend to care, they are only doing it because it is valuable for them at that right moment. One wrong word, they will turn against you, and they will spread rumors, and that will be an ecstatic moment for them because they will feel superior.” He explains with a sigh.

“I think that the best decision I have made was to marry you. You do shine like a sun and can make anyone smile, and your lively sweetness will warm up our mountains back at Camlach making them bloom even on winter!” He laughs.

His comment draws a chuckle from Evelyne’s lips, mirth spilling from laughter and the amused expression of her brightening blue eyes. “No one has ever dared to called me ‘innocent’ before.”, the young woman smirks, rising as he beckons her to come closer, to settle down in his lap as if they had been already thoroughly intimate with each other. The fabric of the shirt shifts on her thighs, as she loops one arm about his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t it be grand, if we proved them all wrong?”, the young wife murmurs. “If we disappointed them, not giving them the fodder for gossip they crave for? What if they will be left with complementing us on our perfect marriage, of equal partners, mutual understanding. A perfect match in a sense that we display a unity. No one needs to know what happens behind closed doors. These will be our little secrets… and perhaps, we can add some very pleasant secrets to them. Pleasant, for us both.” A faint blush taints her cheeks, and the scent of apples intensifies just so. “You know… I believe you mistook my intention last night, when I asked for the servant to join us… I had thought… you could be willing to loosen up a little more, with him, helping us.”

Sebastien gently boops Evelyne’s nose when she settles down on his lap and wraps her arm around him. “I agree with you. We will do our best to display nothing more but unity!” he smiles and touches wife’s chin with his thumb. He looks into Evelyne’s eyes as he inhales the sweet scent of apples. The man then gently guides her to lean closer. If she does so, Sebastien will kiss her and it won’t be a simple steal of a chaste kiss. If Evelyne will not oppose, the vicomte will offer a long and passionate kiss. His arms will wrap around her slim body, gently and carefully as if he would be afraid to break the porcelaine beauty on his lap.

Evelyne has never objected to deepening a kiss! Even so, the first touch of her lips against those of Sebastien is careful, as if she were afraid to scare him off. And so, the blonde woman holds back a little, until she realizes that her husband adds more passion to the kiss than she would have expected. A soft sound of surprise is lost into his mouth, when Evelyne melts against him, a tempting offering just wrapped in a shirt — and into the characteristic intensifying scent of apples that gives away her origin, and her appreciation of the gesture.

Sebastien scoops Evelyne up and raises to his feet. He gives no words and simply moves towards the door. He opens them and carries his wife back to the bedroom where she came from. The smile in his features deepens as he passionately lets Evelyne go by dropping her onto the pillows and soft sheets. His fingers swiftly unbuckle the belt and then he climbs on top of her. He looks into Evelyne’s eyes for a moment adding, “You are very beautiful.” And then he tries to proceed with a kiss.

Evelyne might have tried to appear as a woman of sense, as she pointed out to Sebastien the rational route to take. All of this is washed away when she feels her lithe form lifted and carried back to the bedroom, a place where pleasure was denied to her on the previous night. A fact, she seems to care little about when the manner in which Sebastien sets her down upon the bed, and the way he begins to disrobe leave no doubt about his intentions. His young wife is quickly stirred, as he will be able to see from her veiled gaze and the way her lips twist into a slightly wicked grin. Her own fingers aren’t idle, but nimble as they unbutton the shirt to have it drift open in obvious intention to reveal herself to him. “Thank you,” she whispers against Sebastien’s lips before she is silenced again, her arms wrapping about him, pulling him closer and against her.

FADE

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