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The Baths — La Glycine
A trefoil-arched doorway must be passed to enter the chamber beyond, which resembles a cross between d'Angeline culture and a vision of a middle eastern bath come to life. The most prominent detail is the large tub in the middle of the room, sunken into the floor of cream colored marble tiles and edged with elaborate ornamental mosaic work in warm earthy tones. Arranged about it are a number of exquisitely crafted statues of white marble, depictions of beautiful naked d'Angelines, male and female, resting about the tub as if recovering from intense pursuits of pleasure. Upon the flat belly of one such statue sprawling upon the floor close to the edge rests a tray, serving as table for some glass flagons holding a variety of scented oils. Upon the arms of another kneeling statue, there are fresh towels provided to be used when needed.
During the day, there is only minimal light filtering in through a pair of windows that sit higher up on the walls. And so thick beeswax candles scattered about the tub are often lit to inspire a more intimate mood, along with dim colorful mosaic glass lamps at the walls, and the flickering flames of the crackling fire in the hearth at the back that also serves as heating for the room. It will be here by the hearth that colorful cushions and pillows of various sizes arranged on a thick carpet can be used to relax upon after enjoying a bath. Or to indulge a bit more in the passionate delights this house has on offer. Refreshments are provided upon a side table, heavy goblets of Ephesium, filled with wine, sitting beside a bowl of fruit or a plate with other delicacies that can be finger-fed and thus easily incorporated into sensual games of any kind.
It's a lazy Monday afternoon.
It can be presumed that anyone lingering around La Glycine's baths at this time of day are idle-rich, and looking to underwind. Generally speaking, hanky-panky play is best left for the evening, when even merchants and the odd commoner can participate. The room therefore is more sparsely populated than usual. And it's a fair-bit quieter than when the wine flows freely.
Adeline looks like she's going to pass out.
In the decidedly-hotter end of the pool, the pale woman is pink-faced. She's probably been in the near-steaming water for too long, and is now in threat of becoming a cooked lobster. She leans against the edge of the water, her muscled arms resting on the tile. Hers are the limbs of a warrior, not a waifish, coddled lady, and the scars that can be seen on her skin are a testament to her history.
Life's good.
Somewhere a rather irritated female voice breaks the relaxing silence of the baths. "Come back when you don't smell of the gutter!" There's a thud of something being thrown and then Drake Rousse stumbles through the doorway. He's dressed only in wide baggy pants and a frilly white shirt splattered with something red. He's carrying boots in one hand and a towel in the other. He looks like he hasn't shaved (or slept or eaten) for a good while. The boots are dropped to the floor and the towel is casually flung over the outstretched arm of a statue. Without checking if anyone may be present, he begins shedding the rest of his clothes.
Monday afternoons are the best.
At least that must have been what Amaryllis had thought when she strolled into the baths, red-haired Glycine adept that she is. Or was it, that someone instructed her to go there to attend to the guests? The young woman is clad into a light flowing gown of Tiberium style. The sort that can be swiftly discarded when required. But right now, it fits her frame, ensuring propriety in a way it even covers all of her back. Stepping into the hall, she takes in the scene in one sweeping look of her gaze.
"My lady. My lord. Welcome to La Glycine.", she greets them smoothly with a smile blossoming on d'Angeline features. "I am Amaryllis. In case you'd require any refreshments, wine? Lemon water? I can certainly have some brought for you, while you relax and enjoy a bath."
It's an unusual day indeed, as another of the idlers in the hotter end of the bath (although less lobster like at least) also fails to fall under the waifish, coddled lady category. Indeed, if it weren't for the age gap, one might consider that perhaps it's a warrior woman's day out. Philomene, visible from the shoulders up, likewise lacks the pale, soft skin of the majority of the country, and sports a deceptively wiry constitution with old, faded nicks and scars from shoulder to elbow made more livid by the hot water. At the offer, she clears her throat and raises a finger. "A lemon water," she agrees. "Thank you."
What's a hot bath without a lobster?
Adeline's complexion borders on 'translucent'. Her attention, initially, is drawn to the dishevled Lord Rousse. This makes her sigh quietly but noticeably. Thereafter, Amaryllis has her gaze, and, after Philomene places her order, the young warrior-ess murmurs quietly, "The same for me, thank you." The White Lady draws in a deeper breath, looks to the man getting naked, and calls out to him firmly.
"Good afternoon, my Lord Rousse."
The appearance of Amaryllis makes Drake blink owlishly as he tries to make sense of her. "Something strong. Whisky.", he decides, before he hears Adeline's call. It takes him a moment to recognize the woman in her present colouring, then he looks slightly sheepish before he can re-arrange his facial features into a cool, slightly smirking expression. As you do, when you're buck-naked in front of someone who you know doesn't like you. "Mylady. My other lady.", he greets when he realizes that there's a second woman in the bath. "Don't mind me." He wades in at the other end and falls belly first into the water, creating a mighty splash.
The Glycine adept moves with the exquisite grace that is trained in the Night Court, as she accepts a tray from a novice to then carry it over to the women of slightly martial air. "My lady." She hands Philomene a goblet of lemon water. Her smile shifts into the slightly suggestive sort. "Anything else? I can send for one of our male adepts, if you like?" It is a brief offer that lingers in the air, as attention shifts towards Adeline, and Amaryllis serves this lady too a goblet of chilled water with a bit of lemon added to it. "Or perhaps. You wish to just relax. Please let me know if you would wish for company…", she murmurs pleasantly, rising gracefully from her half-kneel she adopted in offering the goblet. Standing then right before Drake. Her gaze follows him as he elects to submerge himself into the warm waters of the pool. "Uisghe. My lord. It will be my pleasure…" At which she turns to get the drink, from a nearby cabinet. Is it by coincidence that the clasp on her dress comes loose and drags the garment down with it, revealing the adept underneath? A beginnings of the marque can be glimpsed at the small of her back, one third so far complete in the art that has been inked into her skin. Above the shapely curves of her rear.
"Oops," Amaryllis murmurs with a wicked grin, kneeling to regather the gown and wrap it about her frame again. Before she pours the drink for Drake and saunters over — now again somewhat properly dressed — to set the cup down at the edge of the pool.
Philomene lifts a hand to smooth back her hair, clearing the splashed water from her face in the tail end of the same movement before accepting the goblet with a nod of thanks. "Who knew we'd be treated to the spectacle of whale watching this afternoon," she notes drily. "They're such graceful creatures, I find."
"It's hard not to; you look like shit."
Not that Drake might catch Adeline's comment as he plunges into the water. Not that the White Lady seems to mean him verbal harm either. There's is, for a lack of a better term, a merry war, one of those fantastic games that nobles play when they aren't ruining the world for everyone else. To say that Adeline's comment is dry is to call the Sahara 'mildly warm'.
Whatever Philomene said makes Adeline laugh.
"Aren't they?" She draws a finger along the tip of her nose. "I've seen one or two in my travels. I've also seen one of those large creatures from the south — an ape? — as well." Shrug. "Hard to tell what we're seeing, I guess." And then, she says, in Amaryllis' direction, "I'm fine without the company right now, Amaryllis."
"I'm just enjoying the view from here."
The (very skinny) whale reappears from the water and brushes wet red hair out of his face with one hand. Sadly his dive meant that he missed the adept's wardrobe malfunction, but he seems more interested in the drink than the girl anyway. He happily reaches for the cup and lifts it. "Let's drink to the Lord Cherevin and may his dongle rot and fall off!"
Amaryllis stands there at the edge, beside the cup of uisghe, so that Drake must take notice of her. She even lifts her arms, reaching up to twirl her red hair into a knot of lover's haste as if she were indeed pondering to join the group in the bath. The clasp seems to be fastened all properly now though. And yet. She touches her fingers to it as if pondering indeed to slip into the sensual allure of the hot water in the pool.
But it seems she won't be able to. At least not today, at this very hour.
"Amaryllis!", someone calls from the entrance to the baths, and apparently it must be some higher ranking Glycine, as Amaryllis' posture changes at once, from lazy sensuality to a more alert straightening sort.
"A pity," the adept remarks with a soft sigh. "I believe someone else will be sent to attend to you. I for my part, am required elsewhere…" An assignation perhaps? It would explain the slight haste with which this Glycine makes her exit, with another soft sigh, as she pauses for a last glance aback over her shoulder.
"Loathe as I am to consider Lord Cherevin's dongle, rotten or otherwise," Philomene murmurs, "Nonetheless." And her goblet is raised in silent agreement with the toast. She settles back against the side of the baths contentedly with her drink, sipping the cool liquid in pleasant contrast to the heat of the water. "Dare I ask what the Lord has done to deserve your ire?"
"Lord Cherevin?"
Adeline looks to Philomene for a moment, and then looks back to Drake. "That must be the gentleman I've heard of that won some lady's affections from you, Lord Rousse. Did I get that right?" Her tone is neutral and matter-of-fact. When Amaryllis is called away, the White Lady's eyes are drawn away to the adept, for a moment. Then, they return to the haggard-looking Dragon.
"Hardly a reason to punish yourself."
"No, you didn't.", Drake informs Adeline curtly, while he watches the adept depart. "He is the father of a lady for who I felt a certain amount of affection. But he decided I'm not good enough for his precious darling. Me, Drake Rousse, the dragon!", he huffs. He knocks the whisky back and more sea otter than dragon begins to drift belly up on the water, weary eyes contemplating the ceiling of the baths.
Philomene idly drags her free hand through the water, setting up tiny eddies in the bath beside her. "My lord, perhaps these things are not meant to be. 'A certain amount of affection' hardly implies a heartwrenching agony if your suit is denied. And you're a good looking young chap, I'm sure you'll find another."
"Ah."
Adeline sips from her glass of water. "And drinking and flopping around like a defeated beast does what to shed yourself of such a reputation, Lord Rousse?" Yes, she does take a /small/ amount of pleasure from needling him. Why? Because needling is fun. And, as said before, merry little war. Were she to sound less clinical than she does, it might be found insulting. Alas, it sounds more like a mother scolding her son for getting his heart broken.
A particularly cold mother, but still.
"Yea, I know, there's other fishies in the sea.", Drake confirms Philomene's suggestion and sighs. "She was a good catch, though. Pretty and sassy. But there was another suitor and I felt my hand was being forced before it was too late. Ah, may they be miserable together!", he sulks and since he's drifting not far from Adeline, he splashes her with one hand like the mature adult he is. "I will never be a landed noble with a big title, so I may drink and flop around all I like, Mylady. Perhaps I'll go to Chi'in after all."
Once again Philomene's hand comes up to flick water from her face, even if the water technically didn't actually hit her. "Pretty is hardly a reason to marry anyone, regardless. If I had a coin for every pretty young thing out there, I'd be drowning in it. Use your head. Marry into land." She shrugs lightly, sipping further from her lemon water. "If you can't get a title, get some farmland, increase your holdings, make something of yourself." She pauses. "Or run away to Chi'in, if you've no character to speak of."
Even if Amaryllis has made her exit, there are a few Glycine adepts around, to make sure the guests of the salon have all the refreshments they wish for — and perhaps also company for later, when the day progresses to the later hours of evening.
Once doused, Adeline looks about as humorous as a soaked cat.
"You cannot be surprised at being treated like a child if you keep acting like one." Beat. "Grouse all you want about your station, if you wish. I know many soldiers who were able to gain the hands of landed nobility due to their courage and reputations." Beat. "Rather than try to peddle your House's wares, why not serve? You may find a place within the Ducal Court."
"If you can keep your etiquette, that is, Lord Rousse."
Adeline, aka the White Lady (it's her hair), is at the hot end of the baths, pink in the skin and wet on the face and hair. Philomene is located nearby, and the two women are resting with their backs against the edge of the pool. Meanwhile, Drake is floating around on his back, his eyes up to ceiling, as the trio are, apparently, discussing some matter of import.
Well, sort of.
When she speaks, Adeline looks to Philomene. And she nods in agreement. "But it seems the Lord Rousse doesn't feel he can, as he does not have land." Beat. "There's some merit to that position." She looks to Drake after. "But I think he can change his fortunes if he found a cause to serve: one that a lady could deem noble or virtuous enough to overlook the absence of holdings for a dowry."
lech, marriage and politics.
Helene enters the chamber quietly, wrapped still in a silk robe. There is a touch of discomfort in her expression, a sense that she is out of place here, but trying nonetheless. Her green eyes turn to the baths, glancing in turn at the faces she knows with a nod of recognition, before looking at those she does not. She approaches the warmer end as well and, when there is a pause in the conversation, asks, "May I please join you?"
"I don't want to marry.", Drake points out, "And if I did, I'd rather marry a lady for being pretty than for owning land. I mean, what good is land if you wake up beside an ogre every morning whose very view sours your day?" He is totally not looking at Adeline. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling as if the ogre in question is painted there. "And I did not peddle my houses' wares because it was so much fun, but because my sister made me." He stops before he boinks his head on the edge of the pool and straightens to stand - just in time to see a newcomer arrive. "See, more fishies in the sea.", he asides to Philomene who happens to be nearby.
"Perhaps you might consider varying your bait, then, monsieur," Philomene responds in fairly short order, knocking back the rest of her goblet then leaving it on the edge of the bath for one of the courtesans to pick up after her. She gestures vaguely to the newcomer, nodding her head. "Please. There's wine and lemon water available if you ask one of the young ladies, I'm sure. Do join us."
The White Lady looks over her shoulder, and nods to Helene.
"As you will." Adeline even moves a little to accommodate. She raises a hand to the newcomer, as if to help her in. If she needed assistance. It is hand that is sturdy and rough from use and practice. "I am Adeline Mereliot." No apparent title. "The rake is the inestimable Lord Drake Rousse. And the other lady — " She frowns, as she doesn't recognize Philomene.
" — forgive me, m'lady, I don't know if we've met."
"Lady Helene Verreuil, a pleasure to meet you all," Helene answers politely, her voice gentle but measured. With that she sits on the edge of the bath to disrobe before slipping into the water, eyes closing as the warmth envelops her, then opening once more as she waits for the older woman's name, a smile just curling her lips.
Drake lifts a lazy hand in greeting when Adeline introduces him, but doesn't speak himself. He seems quite happy to just watch the newcomer for now, glad she's drawing the other ladies' attention away from picking on him.
"I don't believe we have, my lady," Philomene responds to the palest lobster, quite casually offering a somewhat scarred hand in the general direction of both other women, palm down. "Philomene Aiglemort de Chalasse, how do you do," comes the casual politeness. "I'm afraid I have yet to remember most of the ladies and gentlemen of this fine city. Memory is not my strong point, so please don't be offended if I need to be reminded."
Note: Philomene and Adeline are scarred.
"Ah. D'Aiglemort, then?" Adeline seems to approve of the family and name. "Well met. And I will not be afeared to remind if necessary." Scoff. "There are many names and titles to keep track of, these days." She grunts manfully. "Life was simpler not a year ago." Whatever that means. She turns her attention to Drake, then, but because he is silent she decides to move on.
For now.
"Have you been in the city long, Lady Verreuil?" Beat. "If not, then what brings you to Marsilikos, if you do not mind me asking?" Direct questions, yes, but Adeline seems to have a tone that suggests she's incapable of small talk.
Making fun of Drake, certainly; but small talk, no.
"A pleasure Lady d'Aiglemort," Helene intones before accepting a glass of lemon water for herself. Turning to Adeline she answers, "Some months, but i did return to Siovale for several weeks and only returned a fortnight ago. And it is family business that brings me here. I have been working to establish stronger trade alliances and promote the new port project along the coast that my family has been working with Matthieu Rocaille, the Ducal Heir, on building."
"I don't know any of your names.", Drake confesses bluntly, "I've only just returned to the city myself." Well, it's an excuse he's been successfully using for a while. "I just know her because she's unforgettable." He points a finger at the white-haired lobster, who's turned to grilling the newcomer. "Promoting a port? How dreadfully boring."
Philomene's lazy pose straightens a little as Helene speaks, her interest piqued. "Trade alliances, Lady Verreuil? If you'll excuse me eating into leisure time with talk of business, can I ask what cargo it is you're looking to export? And to which markets? I find myself with a surplus of grain and sheep with a greater supply than demand in our own lands. Perhaps we might assist each other?" Yes. The older d'Aiglemort, clearly a veteran, is dismissing the chance to talk about her renowned family in favour of discussing… livestock?
"Now, hold on a second."
Adeline lifts her eyebrows, and gives Philomene a sly look. "Perhaps we can ease into the conversation given the atmosphere, m'lady d'Aiglemort?" She lifts a hand, and gestures at Drake and the baths. "We have the Lord Rousse here who hasn't a mind for trade, let alone manners. And we are all sitting here, as naked and vulnerable as a woman can be." Neither Philomene nor she look particularly 'vulnerable', of course. Hell, they look as if they'd be quite happy trying to wrestle on another into submission. "Perhaps we should keep formal talk to a meal at one of our homes, where there are fewer prying eyes and ears." There's a long pause after, during which Adeline looks to Helene, and then back to Philomene as her lips open into an amused grin.
"Besides, she's sitting next to me, so I get to go first."
Helene's eyebrow rises as well even as she leans forward, clearly delighted at the opportunity to discuss something she knows better than gossip, sidelining Drake's objections as to its lack of interest. "Perhaps. My own family's fleet deals primarily in dry goods along the southern coast, but with the Siovalese port, there is an expansion for trade with Aragonia, as well as an improved barge system for bringing goods inland from the port. Currently the seaward facing portions are in partial operation, and the barge transfers should be available in the late spring, perhaps April or May. Of course, we can certainly discuss it at a later date as our company would appear to prefer."
"Me, I don't have a mind for trade?", Drake protests, "It was you who got really really annoyed for some reason, when I tried to talk trade with you instead of sweet-talking you. I wouldn't mind some trade talk. I always look for opportunities and you may be happy to hear that my family trades in the best wines of the country. However, as much as it pains me to agree with her -" He eyes Adeline again, "A hot bath is a place for relaxation, not trade talk. Let's get together for dinner sometime. Clothes optional.", he grins.
"Clothes not optional," Philomene is quick to counter, tone brooking little argument. She offers a conciliatory smile, lifting both hands. "Perhaps you might both join me for supper one evening this week, then, and we shall save this meeting today for soaking and pleasantries. And," she adds more softly towards Adeline, "if I might be so rude as to correct you, I have not been a d'Aiglemort in many years. My loyalty these days is to l'Agnace and the Chalasse, no matter where my heart lies."
Adeline makes a gesture with her hand.
"However you wish to be address, m'lady de Chalasse, the offense was mine to make." She does not seem particularly perturbed about the gaffe. "My own family is related to the d'Aiglemort family, distantly. And I'm afraid a little something of that blood remains in me." Which explains the apparent penchant for getting into battles. Then, her attention goes back to Drake.
"I recall the conversation."
"And what I recall is that you were going to tell your sister that I wanted to talk of trade." Beat. "And then, nothing. Did you not tell me that trade agreements would have to come from her? Or did I misinterpret you? Regardless, I'm still waiting to see if your family wishes to trade with my viscounty, and the terms thereof, if so."
She then waits for Drake's response.
"I agree Lady Chalasse, particularly on the matter of clothing," Helene answers with a chuckle before turning to hear Drake's response as well.
"I remember differently. You scoffed at me.", Drake replies to Adeline and sighs, "I can't remember why, except that it's how you regularly treat me. Just because I beat you on the field. Wouldn't you say that's rather rude, Mylady?", he turns to Philomene, apparently hoping that the older lady would defend a dashing young fellow. Even when he's drunk and soggy.
Philomene shakes her head, small smile tugging at her lips. "Ah no, I wont be drawn into that argument, young man, but best of luck to you for trying. However, if you might all excuse me for now?" She inclines her head, raises both hands up onto the side of the bath behind her, and lifts herself smoothly from the water, dripping as she goes. The elegance of her watery exit, however, is then somewhat marred as she struggles to her feet and gathers a towel, some particularly nasty scarring on one thigh apparently the reason for the characteristic gait with which she then moves away to go and dress.
"Mm-hmm."
Adeline watches as Philomene gets up to go. It may be scars that causes her to watch the older woman longer than one might. It's not an inappropriate look, but one that has questions. Questions that, for the moment, remain unasked. Thereafter, she looks back to Drake. Because, of course, it's Drake.
"Do you remember when we first met, m'lord Rousse?"
"Within an hour, you called me, repeatedly, a girl." Beat. "Even after I had informed you of my title, you called me a girl. A big girl, if I recall." Another beat. "And then, after being shown that I had let my skills with my weapons lapse, you suggested that I just drink with you, as if such skills were not important to hone on a daily basis. As if a family who proudly embraces its Camaeline lineage would not consider that gravely insulting." She pauses. "Yes, my Lord Rousse, I scoffed at you. And I will continue to scoff at you. Not because you have bested me."
"Because you could use them productively, and you apparently don't."
Helen's eyes also follow Philomene for a few, but her own regard is one of platonic curiosity, her mind clearly still on the affairs of trade.. her departure leaves Helene as the most serious of the lot, and she watches the other two amicably, somewhat amused by the banter.
Drake gasps open-mouthed at Adeline's words and turns to Helene in mock-horror. "D'you hear that, Mylady? What is she, if not a girl? Surely she's not a boy? She bulges in the wrong places. And what's better to end a good training session on than a drink?" He turns back to Adeline at last with a frown. "Could use WHAT productively? These here?" He points at the water somewhere around his mid section, or rather at what's submerged there. "Oh I sure do. I wanted to use them productively today but I was told to take a bath first."
On this point, Adeline seems less than amused.
"I assure you, Lord Rousse, that nothing below the waterline on your body should considered productive, and I am doubtful anything above it can be considered the same." Beat. "Whatever charm you might have is lost in the cloud of ignorance visible in your eyes. If I had been concerned or piteous of your rejection, then I was both mistaken and foolish. So, if you've nothing of import to add, I'd rather, at least briefly, converse with the Lady Verreuil on matters suited for adults."
Somewhere in her soliloquy, Adeline became frosty in her tone.
The Siovalese woman has to stifle a laugh at Drake's expense, intoning carefully instead, "I am afraid she has the measure of you, which I would expect, given she appears an astute woman, whereas you have only proven to be an easy target for her tongue."
Drake rolls his eyes at both of them now. "Matters suited for adults, huh. You just want to exchange girlie talk about your favorite hairdressers or the latest bags come from Elua, don't you. Well, be my guest, I'll rather poke my eye out with a rusty spoon than listen to that kind of thing." He pushes himself off the edge of the pool, so he can drift back to the cooler end and the exit. Once there he rises from the water in all his young dashing muscly warrior glory (or so he thinks) and goes to find the towel, he left… somewhere?
Adeline clenches her jaw for a moment at something Drake said.
But the young man withdraws, and the White Lady takes a moment to compose herself visibly. Her eyes close, she draws in a breath, and, when her opens open, she appears relaxed again. "I'm sorry," she says to Helene, although it is unclear what she's apologizing for. "I believe we were talking of trade." Beat. "To be frank, I do not know what proposal the Lady Chalasse may wish to present, but I'd like to think an arrangement may be made where all of our families benefit." Her words are slow and carefully chosen.
She still seems a little discombulated from her previous, cold fury.
Helene says, "That will be a matter to discuss another day, over supper I should think with all three families present." She does not look to Drake, but her shoulders visibly relax when he has stepped out, "For now though, I am curious about your own work here in the city?" No mention of handbags or hairdressers here."
Drake finds his towel, clothes and boots and gathers everything in one arm, so he has one hand free to lift it in a goodbye wave for the ladies, before he heads out.
There is a moment of silence.
"I'm not sure how to answer your question," Adeline initially admits. "My work? My work is to re-establish my family here. My mother — " Beat. " — my mother let our reputation languish somewhat in her waning years. As the eldest daughter, I was given the title of Vicomtesse, and was directed here to re-establish that reputation. I realize that this is a disadvantageous position, but it is what it is."
Adeline's lips twist for a moment.
"In any case, it is a duty that I have embraced, and will continue to embrace." She draws in another breath, and straightens her neck a little. "Even if I am ill-suited to the role, and am learning constantly, I — I spend my time considering and learning this life, as it were." She looks around the baths meaningfully. "This environment — the opulence — is sometimes disorienting."
It sounds like she wasn't raised in, or to be in, a court.
"I understand entirely," Helene answers, her green eyes softening, "Our lands fell to drought twenty years ago and it was years before we had rebuilt enough to even consider the world outside our borders. I did not grow up to attend the Night Court, or spend frivolously on entertainments, but to focus my worth on what we could grow for our people. Now I am here to continue that process, working to build a port and diversify our economy so that our people could withstand another fallow season such as the last."
Adeline seems to understand.
"I think that your purpose is noble. Certainly, if there is surplus I could promise to your family, I would. At the moment, any such surplus is all I could offer in furtherance of other agreements." Then she makes a suggestion. "Regardless, for the benefit of your people, I would be happy to discuss a way to ensure that no people suffers from the fate of famine or drought." And it is an earnest suggestion, judging from her tone.
"I'm sure we have seen enough suffering in the world."
Helene laughs and shakes her head, "We are well situated now. We have rebuilt, and we have prospered long enough to feel secure enough to invest in more than just a few years grace. And thank you for your kind words. I believe your cause is the same. It is worthy, always, to uphold one's family and rebuild its reputation, even if mine is merely from absence, whereas yours left with some degree of disrepute. There is always a future, and it is always worth working towards."
"Disrepute is probably a harsh adjective."
Adeline smiles for just a moment. She sits in the warm area of the baths, her skin flushed pink from the heat, which makes her look rather like a lobster with a white wig on (and a scar over her left eye). She is conversing in hushed, business-like tones with Helene, the two women apparently engaged in some discussion of a political or familial nature.
"I'd call it disrepair."
"And it's something that a surgeon isn't good at mending." The White Lady's nostrils flare for a moment. "I can heal a man, suture a chest wound, and keep a leg in use, but a family's reputation? I have no idea how to make it greater than it is. Nobility around here don't seem to care much for war stories, and I'm in short supply of other kinds of tales to tell." Shrug. "I've only become familiar with the Night Court because I was advised that this is where most deals are made."
What kind of deals, though, right?
"I have had good luck at the opera and the dockyards as well," Helene answers before leaning back and sighing, "Though I should be going home soon enough. As for your reputation, there are two things that can mend it better than anything else. The first is time, and the second is you. You do not need war stories, just faithful service to your liege lords, and eventually that relationship will rebuild the rest. I hope you have a pleasant day, and I wish you all the best until next we meet Vicomtesse."
Rosalie begins to slowly come into the baths, her cheeks flushing deeply already but a friend suggested to her she needed a soak. She agreed though her hands are shaking softly as she lets the novice aid her in getting ready, though rather insistent upon keeping on her light green camisole and matching bloomers before she begins to make her way to join the baths with Adeline and Helene. A hint of bashfulness causes her to look away as there is a soft bow while she says, "Vicomtesse Adeline Mereliot, it is lovely to see you again. Been a long time since we trained with one another." Her eyes soon looking back though her flushness remains before her attention falls upon Helene as she says, "Apologies if I am interrupting, I am Lady Rosalie de Somerville." Though the scent of the apples strongly emitting from her would be a dead give-away of her lineage. After a few moments she inquires, "Would you terribly mind if I joined you both?"
"And you as well, Lady Verreuil."
Adeline nods to Helene. "I will send a letter to you shortly about our meeting with the Lady Chalasse. Thank you for spending time with me today." And then, as if the discussion had taken something out of her, she sighs heavily, and closes her eyes to help her soak in the heat from the water around her. The break is short-lived, apparently, when Rosalie announces her presence.
"Lady Somerville."
Adeline looks anxious. Anxious? No, nervous. For a few moments, at least, as if Rosalie's presence had shaken something in her. "It — it's good to see you again." She draws one of her calloused hands into her hair, only to have her rough fingers get caught in soaked, wavy locks. Crap. "It's — no, it's a pleasure to see you, please." She moves a little from where she bathes at the side of the pool.
And yet, there's so much room, there's really no need for her to move.
Rosalie gracefully slips into the baths, still blushing deeply. And she chooses to sit near Adeline as she murmurs, "A lot has happened since… we last trained. Very many things. But… I would be lying if I said I had not thought about you often Vicomtesse." Her eyes to the water as her hands fidget with the bottom hem of her bloomers as she leans her back to the wall of the bath. Her eyes eventually looking into Adeline's eyes as she asks, "How is it you have been?" A hint of longing echoing there as well as a nervousness.
Adeline is naked in the water.
"I've been — " She has to think about it. " — I've been working, I guess." There's an awkward silence. "Training, yes. But doing — well, doing what I'm supposed to be doing, which is — " She clears her throat, her blue eyes fixing on Rosalie's face. " — getting to know the city better. Getting to know other nobles. The Night Court." Beat. "Indulging as is appropriate, but otherwise — "
She trails off on the topic, upper lip sucked between teeth for a moment.
"What about you? Did — did things work out between you and your good friend?" Adeline's shoulder lifts for a moment, as her arms slip away from the side of the pool and under the surface of the water, so that only her head and neck are visible above the line.
The flush of her skin does wonders to mask any blush she might have.
Rosalie shakes her head no softly and explains, "I have not seen him since last time. I think he went home to help with more family business." Her hand closest to Adeline begins to slowly slip from the hem of her bloomers and begins to move towards to Viscomtesse, her fingertips brushing along Adeline's arm as she continues to speak, "I randomly met Thaddeus de Trevalion, Heir to Comté d'Amiens. He… seems rather smitten with me and wishes for a political match. Given how my parents want me to find such… he seems tolerable and he already has one he wishes to be his consort…. I am allowed a… a consort as well… should I find someone who… who I do love and feels the same. But… I still have…. desires that I.. I am very much wanting to.. to well… to put it bluntly. To slowly explore with you Adeline."
Hooray, juicy gossip time!
Adeline's but a head and neck above hot water at this point, ironically. She looks up at Rosalie, her blue eyes wide, open, and surprised. "You do?" She seems surprised, at least. "I — " And not of enough presence of mind at the moment to react in a cool manner. "That — " Pause. No, that didn't work either. "I — I don't know what to say." Beat. "I mean, I didn't — I didn't expect — "
"I didn't expect you to say all of that."
Adeline shrinks down further into the water, until her neck is no longer clearly visible. She looks away to one of Rosalie's knees. "Can we — " Her face takes a pained look. " — can we spend some more time together? I don't — I'm concerned that if you were to — I mean — " She looks around the bath. " — if it became known we were lovers, wouldn't that — wouldn't that jeopardize your courtship with the Lord Trevalion?"
Seems a legit concern.
It is good to see potential patrons warming up to each other in a hot bath. Even so, these are Glycine grounds, and it is the duty of Glycines to see to the guests and that they have everything they need. Amaryllis had been around earlier, until she was called away. Whatever it was she had been doing in the meantime, she returns to the Baths with a wry grin and a glow in her eyes. Red is the hair she twirls into a knot, and milky pale is the skin that shows in her bare arms and neckline. The back is covered by the Tiberium style gown she wears. Seeing Adeline is still there soaking in the pool, the adept comes to a halt, and her expression brightens into a wide smile. "My lady! You are still here?" It is a question that is uttered softly, not really intending to intrude upon the interaction of the two women, both of which are guests of the salon. And with a soft sigh, Amaryllis discards her dress and slips into the pool, somewhere at the end, where Drake had taken a dip earlier.
Rosalie nods softly as she murmurs, "I am not in a rush. I like moving slow. I was… just more wanting my intentions known more than anything is all. And… he has his consort Gemma. I know he won't care. He would be more… upset if it were a man I think. And he knows I am very picky about things and… I have never been with a woman before. So… slow would be preferred." A warm smile given as she looks back to the water and nervously bites her bottom lip. As Amaryllis shows up, Rosalie flushes deeply and begins to curl up in her seat, even though she is wearing her camisole and bloomers. Her arms moving to wrap around her legs as she softly offers to Adeline, "We… we can talk more of it… later if… if you rather.. I… I not mind… waiting." Those honeyed eyes glance to the Viscomtesse before look back to the water, her shyness setting in at the new arrival, though glancing at the fellow redhead.
It would be error to conclude that Adeline is shy.
She isn't. She doesn't look away from Rosalie; she keeps looking at her, even as a thousand things race through her head. Even as the other woman confesses her feelings. Her thoughts are interrupted by Amaryllis, to whom Adeline re-directs her gaze. And, as she was addressed, she is forced to respond. "Amaryllis." But the scarred, pale woman remains mostly concealed by the water.
There is a moment of silence, and consideration.
"Do you make yourself available to other women?" asks the White Lady suddenly, and curiously. Adeline rises a little in the water, so her shoulders show. "If so, then I would like you to add me to your list of patrons, if there is a place." She draws a breath through her nose. "If not, would you find someone who would? I intend to patronize this Salon, which has been so welcoming to me." She doesn't not mention who else she may be seeing here, although her words suggest she may be seeing someone else.
She then turns, and starts to come closer to where Rosalie is closed up, sitting.
"Hmmm?"
From the waters, a chin lifts, as Amaryllis keeps her head above the waterline, and her fiery red hair from getting soaked in the water. After doing a few strokes in the water she settles her feet on the ground of the pool, and standing there, lifts her torso a little out of the water — perhaps deliberately so, perhaps not. "I serve Naamah, my lady," the adept responds with a glitter in her grey-green eyes. "I am available to anyone that I deem deserving of my attentions." Water splashes as she moves closer. "There are places, of course, my lady. We are at La Glycine… and you only need to decide which of our Glycines would be to your liking." Her gaze shifts to Rosalie, curious. And Amaryllis gives the fellow redhead a smile. "Why, hello.", she greets, perhaps a touch informal.
Rosalie has been teased be some she should have been an Alyssum courtesan with how shy she can get at times. Her cheeks flushing more as she looks to Amaryllis and softly utters, "Hello…. I… I am Lady… Rosalie de Somerville." And now the scent of apples is very strong as her nervousness echoes. Her eyes then looking to Adeline and offers a soft smile as she comes closer to. One of her hands slowly unwrapping from her legs and moving to find Adeline's lacing her fingers if allowed to take the hand.
Amaryllis' words cause Adeline to think again.
"I understand, then, that I will have to earn your attentions." Her brows furrow for a moment. "I haven't the foggiest idea how to do that," she admits with a soldier's candor, as she lets Rosalie take her hand and grip it. In fact, she turns, so that she can come to a rest in front of where Rosalie sits. Hand-in-hand. "But I will do that, if you'll give me the opportunity. And the only way I know how to earn things is through service of my own."
No sense of entitlement.
"What can I do to show you I so deserve your attention, Amaryllis?" Adeline seems dead-set and certain. As if this were very important to her, all of a sudden. Hard to say precisely why she seems so determined, but, there she is, looking as stony and cool as ever, blue eyes like ice. She may not completely understand how the Night Courts work — or Naamah's teachings — but there's no doubt that she wants to figure it out.
Going about it the wrong way, maybe, but —
"Hmmm…" The sound is muffled by closed lips and it makes her nostrils flare faintly. Amaryllis has a few pale freckles dotting the skin of her face and her body. It is evident even more now that she is no longer concealed by any gown. Her attention lingers on the Somerville. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.", she tells Rosalie with perfect courtesy, even if it is offered in a somewhat suggestive purr. The Glycine bites her lip, but there is nothing in that gesture that would make her look like an Alyssum. On the contrary, her eyes brighten with a fire, both daring and invitation.
But there Adeline speaks about earning her attentions, and thus Amaryllis pulls her focus away from the blushing redhead and turns it towards the scarred Mereliot. "You wish to earn my attentions?" The notion makes her complexion darken a little, but it is less of a blush and more a sign of the hot temperature of the water. Right? "I am an adept still, my lady. I have yet to complete my marque. Some might say I should not be picky in picking my patrons, but there it is." She smiles. Her eyes shift away from Adeline's face to those laced fingers and she blinks. One could almost assume that she were a touch bewildered. "The question would be… is it me you'd crave for or someone else entirely. Naamah must not be mocked." Meaning, a Glycine would not act as a stand in for someone else. Especially if of Jasmine canon.
Rosalie softly smiles as Adeline's fingers interweave with her own. She slowly uncurls from her ball, letting her other hand rest at her side as she looks between Adeline and Amaryllis curiously.
Adeline clearly does not know the Night Court well.
But what she lacks in actual knowledge she may make up for in an earnest sort of reasoning. "I don't know." Candidly, she looks up over her shoulder at Rosalie. "I will not lie." And then, back to Amaryllis. "But what have I to offer anyone as a consort or a wife if I have never known romance?" She slips away from Rosalie, then, so that she can pull herself out of the water. "I would be hopeless inept. I would be an elephant marching through a warehouse."
"And that would be unacceptable to me."
Wet and dripping, she gently touches Rosalie on the shoulder as she turns to face Amaryllis. Adeline's body, scarred as it is, is also trim and muscular, and built for the fights she has survived. "I've the hands of a surgeon, but the manners of a soldier. What do I know of the sort of love that may be desired of me?" Her eyes narrow for a moment, and then she takes in a deep breath. "All I do know is that the heart is not something to treat lightly. And that I need help."
She does a good job to hide the shame in her eyes.
"I will change and head to the field, my Lady Somerville. Will you meet me there?" Adeline then looks from Amaryllis to Rosalie, and then back. "I've think I've spent enough time wading." She then bows her head respectfully to Amaryllis. "And I hope we can meet again, and soon. To talk, if anything, if not to learn." She pauses, considering the words to herself.
And then she departs.
Rosalie's eyes watch Adeline, unable to help but look over the viscomtesse's form as she softly murmurs, "I could be a fellow elephant with you Adeline." She bites her bottom lip softly. She listens to the words and softly utters back, "I will yes. I just need time to head home and grab my weapons and armor. If we are practicing."
"Romance…?"
Amaryllis lifts her brows a little at that. "You are at Glycine, my lady." Her lips curl in amusement. "You won't find love here. But pleasure. And passion. If that is what you are seeking." As Adeline climbs out of the pool, Amaryllis lowers herself back into the water again until she is somewhat covered by the waterline from her collarbones downwards. However, she had granted both of the ladies enough of a view for a while, of her torso and the perfection in curves and shape of a Servant of Naamah.
When Adeline mentions needing help, Amaryllis seems almost about to say something. But instead, the Glycine adept bites her lip. This time it looks far less sensual. When addressed by Adeline, Amarylllis inclines her head. "I would enjoy seeing you again, my lady." Nevermind no introductions were offered, but Amaryllis would certainly recognize the scarred frame of Adeline in a possible next encounter.
Rosalie's reply towards Adeline is overheard, of course, and a smile curls the lips of Amaryllis nó Glycine.
"A good day to you as well, my lady of Somerville."
Words that echo ominously in the arched ceiling of the hall, as the Glycine adept watches the two ladies depart.