(1311-03-21) An Off-key Introduction
Summary: Bastien and Ortolette meet in the Solar.
RL Date: 03-21-2019
Related: None
bastien ortolette 

Solar - Ducal Palace

Spacious enough to provide a meeting place of more familiar atmosphere to the residents of the Ducal Palace, the solar is of rectangular shape and generously lit during the day through a number of arched windows in the south wall. The opposite side is governed by a huge stone hearth, a fire crackling there during colder weather conditions. Above the hearth hangs a shield with the coat of arms of House Mereliot, flanked by a pair of exquisitely woven tapestries depicting naval scenes of ships on the sea, one in calm and tranquil weather conditions, the other one in a storm with heavy rain.

All furniture is made of oak, be it the long table in the middle of the room, or the number of high backed chairs arranged about it, flat cushions of blue brocade adding to the comfort of seating. The ceiling is a sophisticated rib vault, constructed of wood, the ribs painted in yellow. Depictions of a variety of sea animals have been added onto the light blue ceiling as well by an unknown artist. Several kinds of Mediterranean fish adorn the spaces in between ribs, such as combers, groupers and flounders but also starfish and octopusses.

A door leads out onto a rooftop garden, and an archway opens into the upper hallway.

When looking out of the windows, you see: It is a spring evening. The weather is warm and stormy.

The evening has grown long, easing itself into the early night. Still new and wide-eyed to the ducal palace, Bastien is still quite uncertain about being part of the Mereliot family, much less that his residence is now within the palace. The young heir to the Barony of Auzonnet steps quietly, almost timidly, into the Solar. He almost has the grace of a thief skulking about, were it not for the fact that he does not seem to be hidding his presence from any that might be within.

"Girard," a whisper of a voice slips through the still silence of the solar at sunset. "My blanket," is a plaintive follow-up, and the man thus named and called to service is hardly loath so to do, a great bear of a Cassiline whose work, if it sometimes strays toward the servile, is at least in service of the most needful of the Mereliot clan; the Duchesse's second daughter, the invalid Mereliot, Ortolette, who is sitting up, still, in her invalid's chair, but her headis bwoed, her back allowed to slacken She shivers slightly, in the aftermath of which the fur blanket she has requested is drawn up from her legs and over her arms, and she rests back against the back of the chair, looking up and out a window, then aside to follow Girard's attention to the new arrival, her head moving slightly and her eyes the more so.

Upon seeing that he has stumbled into the presence of someone, Bastien stills. At first his smokey grey eyes settles on the large figure, who out shadows his lithe build, before they settle on the small figure so bundled up. The youth's clothing are obviously new and freshly tailored to his form, as they are worn about him as if he is uncomfortable with the fit. When he speaks, his voice has a musical quality that cannot be missed. "My apologies. I was just looking about." He blushes just slightly, "In truth, I got turned around and lost my way."

Ortolette closes her eyes, then, momentwise, opens them again, a sort of extended blink in Bastien's direction for the duratio of his apology. She whispers to Girard, making him lean in to hear what she's sayig, and then, when he stands once more, he beckons Bastien closer. "It's alright, you may approach," he relays Ortolette's own permission. When=- if, rather— Bastien does, indeed, approach, Ortolette is breathing in short, shallow breaths, looking at him through lowered lashes. "Are you a singer?"

As Bastien approaches, it becomes apparent that he recognizes the young woman now that he draws nearer. A slight grin eases itself most naturally across his lips, "Now that is an interesting and complex question. I am, yet I was, and am not sure if I still am or not." He looks down for a second, before looking back up. "I was until very recently in training, before I was brought here." He cants his head slightly to the side, "Are you desiring entertainment, Lady Ortolette?"

"My lord, my head hurts me, and your riddles do me wrong," Ortolette professes, interrupted by a weary breathing. "Sing— if you sing. 'In ogn'angolo,' from Tigrido's La Farvella," she even has a request in mind, a selection from an opera from the United States. Well, there you have it. She presses her head to the pillow behind her and then rolls it back toward the ceiling.

Bastien cocks his head slightly, "I meant nothing by it, m'lady. I am feeling a bit philosophical this evening." He blinks at the request, if you can call it a request. Not a piece that he is particularly well versed, but one that he knows at least. Or at least, one that he thinks he is familiar enough with. The young man's voice is shaky, perhaps his nerves have gotten the better of him. The words of the piece are mostly correct, but not completely. The same can be said for the song's melody. Once he is done, he sighs, knowing full well how poorly he sounded. Even despite the fact that opera is not his specialty, Bastien cannot help but feel almost ashamed at his performance. He opts to slip back the way he came after such an introduction to the young lady.

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