(1311-02-05) First Visit
Summary: Marco visits Farah to speak with her about her mother, and the Duchesse's plan to see them joined in a match.
RL Date: 05/02/2019
Related: Farah/Marco stuff
marco farah 

Akkadian Suite — Guest Tower

The windows in the medium sized room feature oriental style patterned screens, a mesh of diagonally crossed laths create a pattern of shadows on the walls while still allowing light to filter in during the day. In addition, there are long curtains in several hues of orange, combined with thick hems of dark red ornaments, contrasting to the light cream tone of the walls. The chamber features a curiosity in architecture, an arched ceiling, from where a pair of chandeliers are suspended at chains, light of candles providing a more intimate atmosphere at times, when the oil lamps at the walls are not in use. Below, there is a four poster bed of ebony with an exquisitely carved headboard, Akkadian patterns ornamenting the dark wood in an intricate carvings. Drapes of red silk with golden embroideries are pulled and bound at the posts, a few more lengths of colorful silk draped casually in playful invitation upon the orderly made bed, where a few colorful pillows and comforters are arranged near the headboard on the white blanket.

Behind a divider of painted yellow colored silk is the dressing area which also holds a bath tub, standing proudly on four lion's paws, hammered brass with more patterns etched along the rim.

Marco waits politely before being let in after his arrival is announced. Marco for once is dressed more formally than casually as he enters the official suites of the Akkadian ambassadors. His eyes survey the area watching each person in passing with careful interest as he considers the interior of the suite. He clearly seems off, perhaps a little more intense than usual.

Farah has been informed that a visitor is here to see her, and so she arrives in the receiving chamber of the suite, even if a bit belatedly perhaps. She is clad in a dress of d'Angeline fashion, long sleeved with skirts flaring out below the moderately tied bodice, pronouncing her slender built. Dark hair has been tamed into a do of d'Angeline fashion. Earrings and a necklace give off a faint sparkle in the lighting of the room. Seeing Marco, Farah seems to hesitate for a moment, pausing in her step, before she approaches him and then offers him a curtsey of d'Angeline customs. "My lord," she greets, lowering her dark eyes. The words are mumbled rather than clearly pronounced. But they are uttered with that distinctive Akkadian accent.

Marco watches Farah for a time as she approaches. He bows slightly and he smiles, "Thank you for allowing me to visit." He surveys the area quietly and then moves towards her, "Can we talk somewhere…. discreetly?" He ask and he admits, "I have some… news about your stay and would like to consult your opinion. It is unfortunately not news of which I was hoping to bring you soon about your mother, but I do have some information. Where would you think to begin?"

"Why. Of course…" Farah appears to be a bit flustered. There is that faint glow in her eyes as she gives Marco a faintly bewildered look. "Somewhere, discreetly?", she echoes then, and in glancing towards the door from which she entered, she bites her lip. "Yes. Please. Come along, my lord." It seems curiosity outweighs her other concerns at the moment, and she she obliges. Him dropping the topic of her mother causing her eyelashes to move in a slow blink. Beckoning him to follow her with a lift of her hand, she leads him to her chambers. A nod is offered to her Akkadian handmaid, and then she dismisses her after giving her some orders uttered in Akkadian. "Shall we sit down?", Farah asks then, turning to regard Marco. And with another flicker of her gaze, she sits down upon the bed, as the room has no other seating accommodations.

Marco blinks as she draws him all the way into the room. He blinks and he smiles ruefully, "You know… you should be careful my Lady on who you invite to your room. Your future fiance might be concerned." He says though his tone is humorful as he moves to sit, "Her Grace and I had a discussion… about a number of topics. You came up and it seems your mother was a Valerian. Are you familiar with what that is?" He asks carefully.

"I am." Farah replies simply, to his remark about being careful. There is another glance she casts about the room and then pointedly has her eyes meet those of Marco again. "Her Grace has spoken with me as well." She bites her lip and lowers her gaze then, for a moment. "It seems, she has already made a choice on whom I am to marry." Fingers fidget with each other in her lap. Nonetheless, there is a smile on her face as she looks up again, faint but also a bit awkward. A good thing, that he elects not to get into that, but lingers on the topic of her mother. "Valerian? Indeed. I don't know what it means.", the young Akkadian lady admits, regarding Marco inquiringly. "But I trust, you can explain it to me?"

Marco reaches over to grasp her hand squeezing it with one nail absently pressed to her flesh as her fingers gidget. He smiles gently and admits, "It is not the easiest to explain. We could go to see them. But our courtesans are selected and refined and trained to certain canons or precepts that guide them. But the Valerians and Mandrakes are unique. Here we put them together under the Rose Sauvage. But traditionally there is a test given and those who can bear pain and enjoy it they are marked out as unique. They are special to us those who can make certain things a reality. It… will help us narrow down our search for her. But may also explain…. part of why she was held in such high regard."

"I… don't know." There is the faintest flinch at his hand touching hers, or maybe at that fingernail pressing into delicate fingers. A line appears between her brows, and for a moment it seems, as if Farah wanted to pull her hands away from his grasp. But he begins to explain, and so she meets his gaze with her own, slightly wide-eyed look. "What are you suggesting…? That I should speak with this… Lady Denise Shahrizai? She is…" Her lips press together, "a courtesan of the salon you mention, is she not?"

Marco considers that and he smiles, "Denise. Yes. She would be a good one to speak. I will bring her about sometime next when she is free." He murmurs softly and his hand draws back and he studies her gently, "Just that it is something you should learn of if you wish to continue to pursue the matter. Are you sure you wish to learn what I do?"

"Yes." There is a nod, and a faint rosiness that touches Farah's cheeks. "Or…" But that other option doesn't make it past her lips. A light shake of the head then. "Lady Denise is a good acquaintance of yours?", she continues instead, her voice a bit more steady than before as she leans away and pulls one hand from her lap to have it rest on the blanket of the bed. "Is there anything else you wished to discuss?", she asks then, lifting a brow as she sits there, head half-turned towards Marco, chin slightly lifted.

Marco smiles, "Lady Denise is an acquaintance of mine, one that I'm fond of. I suppose it depends on how you mean good. But well enough." He admits and he considers her. "There is… yes the last matter. Of what the Duchess wishes." He admits shifting uncomfortably at this studying her. "Lady Farah, how much do you know of what she expects of you…. of us?" He asks simply studying her features intently broaching the subject as gingerly as he can. "And I would know your feelings on the matter if you are willing to share them."

"Ah… yes…" Farah lowers her gaze and she bites her lip. "Her Grace. She wishes that you and I… that we shall marry. She mentioned that… it should not be rushed. That I… we will get time to get to know each other. She also… said that in order for me to adapt, I may wish to get more acquainted with d'Angeline customs." She sounds a bit shy as she states this, but the blush that touches her cheeks adds another note to her reaction. "I would not be opposed," Farah tells him, lifting her dark gaze to meet his gaze. "But I am wondering, about how you may feel about all of this."

Marco smiles ruefully, "I would yes, be more comfortable if you were more familiar with us." He smiles, "Lady Farah, I find the idea very enticing. But also quite worrying. I've no desire to hurt you through misunderstanding or in general." He says as he leans closer his hand reaching for hers his gaze settling on her, "I find you quite beautiful and sweet, and I could do far worse. And yet… Our ways are very different. How I treat others, the things I've done, the things I enjoy. If you are willing to accept the betrothal then perhaps you will let me and some of the other cities help you learn about d'Angeline customs and… in doing so perhaps we can understand how good a match we might make?"

"There are many things I don't know about you," Farah replies, even as his compliments cause that blush to deepen on her cheeks. "And also, there are many things you don't know about me. I have been raised according to Akkadian customs. But I have d'Angeline blood. I wish to learn more about my heritage. I am to live in this country, so I ought to get acquainted with d'Angeline lifestyle… and with you." She does not evade him as he leans closer, even if her hand trembles a little when he takes it into his.

Marco squeezes her hand firmly, "I want you to be happy with it, my Lady. It would be my delight to help you learn more about your blood. What do you want to know first. I want you to ask any question you have I will do my best to answer. But I would also love to learn about your upbringing so I can try to understand you. What will upset you, what will not. I don't… wish to be crass in front of you but also… if we ARE to be married, I would prefer to minimize what we might keep from each other. Much… of our lifestyle is about well… expression. Expressing what you desire, and freely pursuing what you wish."

<FS3> Farah rolls Composure: Good Success. (1 5 7 6 4 7 7)

That firm squeeze to her hand, it makes Farah twitch just a little, a brief slightly confused flicker in her gaze as she digests the way his hand keeps hers grasped. "My upbringing…?", she begins. "I know little, very little of… expressing myself. I have learned to play the lute. But nothing… nothing of what my mother would have known. She left me too early…." And for a moment it seems as if she were fighting to keep her composure. "In my home country… it is not allowed for a woman to see her husband-to-be… But I understand that here it is expected to… spend time together."

Marco blinks at that his hand still on hers his nail tracing the back of her hand, "If you would be more comfortable without seeing me. I can oblige it somewhat. At least we could ensure you have others around you more often when I am here. I desire you to be comfortable. That we might find a middle ground that pleases us both. But I will admit I would prefer to see you and spend time with you. But it is yours choice. I'm sure you know more than the lute. Tales of growing up, what did you desire to do or be, who did you emulate who did you dislike. These are things that interest me if we are to be intertwined."

Her eyes are downcast, watching his nail scrape over the back of her hand, and Farah shivers faintly. Blinking, she looks up. "I will… feel comfortable around you, my lord. I mean, comfortable around you, Marco.", Farah says. "But you will need to show me… how." She bites her lower lip. "I wish to see you… and be seen with you in public. I can tell you of my life so far, but I haven't seen much outside of the seraglio…"

Marco smiles, "So tell me about the Seraglio." He says and then he looks down at his hand and back to her, "Do you not like when I hold your hand Farah?" He asks not moving it yet and he smiles at her gaze, "I am glad. I would like you to be at my side. Will it bother you if I flirt? Or tease you?" He asks of her curiously.

"The wives of my father didn't like me," Farah says, and the statement leaves her lips before she can hold it back. "They kept speaking ill of my mother… I was tolerated more than I was liked. Only one of my half-sisters was kind to me…" Perhaps this is not the kind of story Marco may have hoped for, but here it is. Her hand shifts in his grasp, fingers curling with his. "I like when you hold my hand.", she admits, cheeks pinkening. "I suppose as I will eventually become your wife… you may flirt with me."

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