(1311-03-18) Late Night Fears
Summary: A misunderstanding results in an unlikely rescue
RL Date: 18 March 2019
Related: None
dante drake catherine 

Place des Mains

Even if usually referred to as Place des Mains, the full name of this square is actually Place des Mains d'Eisheth, and it has earned it for a reason. According to legend, Eisheth herself once descended from the heavens to save an ancestor of House Mereliot, who had collapsed right here in this spot, shaking with a heavy fever. When Eisheth placed her hands upon the lady's shoulder and forehead, a light and warmth emanated from them that pulled the disease out of the Mereliot's system, and she came to, refreshed and as healthy as she had ever been. To honor this tale, a 12 feet tall statue has been erected in the center of the square, a depiction of the patron of Eisande, clad in wide flowing garments, with her hands outstretched to dispense her blessing and to apply her powers of healing. Both the statue and the pedestal she stands upon are of white marble, the pinnacle oeuvre of a local master stone mason who managed the rare feat to have features of d'Angeline beauty chiselled with striking realism, high detail there in delicate fingers and the fall of the garment.

Four avenues of cobble stone are crossing here: The road to the northeast leads away towards the Noble District, another road heads southeastwards, winding higher upon the rising terrain towards the Dome of the Lady; a third in northwestern direction leads towards the town square with the harbor beyond, and a fourth can be used to reach the Night Court of Marsilikos, through the impressive red sand stone archway that looms to the south.

The night may be cold, but it is pleasantly clear for once, with the moon glowing brightly to help the dim lamps dotted about light the square. The wrought iron gates of the narrow entranceway to the Maison Sanglante ease open with a scrape of metal hinges, and a dark clad figure in long, elegant skirts ducks out. This in itself might not be unusual but for the well contructed box she carries, about two feet in length, with elegantly worked catches and, considering its dusty appearance, a somewhat out of place pattern of tortoiseshell and veneer designed in just such a way that it appears to give the top and sides an unfeasible depth of field.

Danté is walking into the Place des Mains from Rue du Palace having spent some time touring the Rose Savauge salon and is currently making his way back towards the inn he's been staying at although with the growling from his belly he starts to look for someplace to grab a quick meal before the growling gets much more noticeable.

Catherine glances back over her shoulder as she walks, where Dante has unwittingly fallen in behind her. Her shoulders hunch a little, she brings the box of tools across in front of her with both hands, and her pace picks up a notch.

Danté glances at Catherine in front of him as she moves to speed up and try to get away from the man behind her and he starts to chuckle as he looks her over some more he blinks, "Oh you were the lovely lady helping me with my gems at the jewelers weren't you?

"Y…es..?" Catherine responds in a small voice, glancing to her left and right, then back in the direction she's heading. "I'm just going to meet my friend, though. I'm sorry."

Danté ahhs a bit and nods, "I understand. Well that's a shame but I'm heading to get me a bite to eat if your friends end up missing the meeting with you I wouldn't mind the company."

Catherine hesitates, although her pace remains just as fast as she continues to move on down the road. "…why would my friends miss the meeting, though?"

Danté hmms and shrugs, "It happens to me all the time? Or I'm the one that misses meetings with them? Either way it happens." He continues walking up towards where the leaping fish inn would be though.

It's a dark evening, still but for the rapidly speeding up footsteps of a dark clad, worried looking woman carrying what looks to be a rather expensive inlaid box in front of her, and the rather casual gentleman who continues to follow her up the road.

"I'm sure they'll meet me, monsieur," Catherine insists, tone of her voice rising as she presses on, becoming more breathless with every quickening pace. She chews on her lip, shifting her grip on the box in front of her, and, glancing back for a moment, darts across the road to the other side.

Sadly the other side is populated by questionable figures as well, including one young man who's just coming down the road, minding his own business, when the crossing woman almost barrels into him. "EXCUSE ME?!", he barks at her, managing only just to sidestep her. Which isn't easy when you're drunk as a … well, Lord.

Danté chuckles as she scurries across the street only to run into somebody else… "Well that escalated quickly. Are you sure you didn't want some food"

Catherine glances back at Dante, then to Drake, fingers tightening until her knuckles whiten on the handle to the box she holds. "Oh, no, no," she decides frantically, giving Drake a definite Look. "See, here's my friend now, come to meet me." Complete with tiny, forced laugh.

Drake tries to figure out what's going on here, the lady clutching the box, a man in pursuit. He puffs himself up and eyes Dante for a moment. "Looks like the lady isn't interested in a late dinner, mate.", he points out, trying to look menacing while he speaks with the hauteur of a nobleman, born to privilege.

Danté raises an eyebrow and just chuckles at the noble's attempt to look menacing. "It would seem so. I was at least attempting to be polite instead of barking at her like I owned the street like some arrogant curr." He gives a mock bow as he continues up the road that he was already traveling on.

Catherine shivers lightly, eyes fixed on Dante's retreating back as she backs away against the buildings at the side of the road, trying to make herself look smaller. Only once Dante is out of earshot does she whisper a fervent, "Thank you, my lord," to her unlikely saviour.

"The lady looks scared to death. You might wanna work on your idea of being polite.", Drake smirks at the departing courtesan, then looks at the woman, still clutching her box. "You alright, Mylady?", he asks.

Catherine exhales, still shaking, and gives a small nod. "Thank you… yes. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I'm sure he meant well, but…"

"There are strange people out and about after dark." Drake states the bloody well obvious. There's him for instance. "Are you indeed meeting a friend or are you on the way home? I could walk with you, if you wish."

"Would you be willing to walk me to the noble district, my lord?" Catherine asks tentatively, hugging her box to her chest for a moment before finally letting it swing down to her side, held with one hand wrapped around the elegantly worked handle now. "If you're going that way..?"

"Yea, I'm on my way home.", Drake confirms and eyes the business with the box curiously. "Don't tell me please, you are carrying valuables or coins with you out on the street at this hour?", he asks while he begins heading home.

Catherine chews on her bottom lip as she moves to trail him, a step or two behind. "My tools," she admits quietly. "They're valuable to me. Probably not so valuable to a thief."

This causes a very arched eyebrow. "Tools?", Drake simply asks, clearly curious as all sorts of lurid possibilities run through his mind.

"Knives, planes, chisels, sandpaper, squares, buffing cloths," Catherine lists off almost apologetically, lowering her gaze to the street in front of her. "Sorry."

"Should have used a knife on the creeper.", Drake suggests off-handedly, while trying to make sense of the assortment she's listed. "You are… some sort of sculptor then?"

Catherine shakes her head, giving a nervous laugh. "I don't think I could have fought him off, though, my lord, if he really wanted to hurt me. I… no, not a sculptor. I dabble in a bit of marquetry..? Inlays and veneers and so forth?" Everything is a question, as though she's wanting approval.

"Ah I see, that sounds like a nice hobby.", Drake replies with a smile. Apparently he hasn't yet twigged that she is not a lady and that some people -gasp!- have to work for their money. "You made the box yourself, I assume?"

"It's not very good, I know," Catherine demurs, moving the box away to the other side so her body remains between it and Drake. "It was something I made a while ago. I can do much better now..?" Again, that questioning intonation.

"I'm sure you can.", Drake says vaguely, having no evidence to the contrary, "May I ask your name? I am Lord Drake Rousse, Vicomte de Draguignan." Because being the new dragon lord never gets old.

Catherine hesitates before she responds, taking a moment to consider if she really ought to be giving her name to random strangers in the street, even if they did just rescue her. "I'm… my lord, my name is Lady Catherine Valais." She even dips into an awkward curtsey for a split second, despite the box in one hand and still trying to keep up as they walk.

"Ah, well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mylady." he responds with a smile, "I've met a few of your family on occasion." They reach the noble district and he automatically turns into the street where the Valais residence is located. Apparently going to walk her straight to her door.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lord," Catherine responds as if by rote, bobbing into that little awkward curtsey again as they turn to approach the door to the Valais residence, while her toolbox comes back in front of her again, held in both hands and with the light of the few dim lanterns on the street reflecting beautiful patterns in the veneer and mother-of-pearl.

There that moment of drawn-out awkward silence as he's out of random things to say and they're reaching the door. "Be safe, Mylady.", he smiles, "And perhaps take a servant with you next time you're out late?"

"Thank you, my lord. I will, my lord," Catherine lies smoothly, giving him a wan little smile before she darts up the few steps to the door and then she's inside, safe from creepy courtesans for now.

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