(1311-03-23) A Thin Line
Summary: Bastien and Oliver meet
RL Date: 03-23-2019
Related: None
bastien oliver 

Wine Cellar - Noble District

Stairs lead down to the heavy oak door, above which the sign of the place, the likeness of a Hellene amphora spilling over with wine painted upon wood, swings lazily in the occasional breeze. Beyond that door the entrance hall comes into view, where various kegs and casks of differing sizes are arranged in oenological allure before the roughly hewn walls of ancient stone. There is a chill down here on hot summer days, that will be efficiently battled in the colder months through the heating of a giant hearth to the back. The place has a decidedly cavernous character, alcoves to the left and right offering seating at small tables for two or three. Lamps are dangling by chains from the ceiling, shades of milky glass work from La Serenissima offering sufficient lighting. There are no visible windows, which means lamps will be in use even during the day.

Further to the back there is a small hallway branching off from the main area, leading to a medium sized chamber where the bigger barrels are stored. Here, a larger group of up to eight people can sit about a round table of heavy oak, while they are being served the rarer vintages or even the heavier spirits that are stored in a wooden cabinet to the back. Staff is mostly male, clad in black breeches and white shirts with dark red vests, knowledgable sommeliers of superior training that will be glad to wait on guests in person and offer insight into the variety of wines, red and white, from Terre d'Ange and a variety of specialties from abroad, that are available here.


The storm raging outside on this cool night would force people into a place to hide. The Wine Cellar is pretty empty tonight as many have chosen to stay home. Sitting by the stoked fire in a simple black shirt and black pants is a beautiful young man. He sits on a chair which has thick fur draped over it. He has a cup of ale in his hand and his face is towards the fire. To the back of the bar is a tall man in black with striking blue eyes hitting on a barmaid while there is a Basilisque guard with his back against the wall watching the young man.

Coming in from the rain is a young man, who probably could be better called pretty than handsome. His hair is dark, but his grey eyes seem to catch and draw in the light of the establishment. Bastien is dressed in a dark green doublet with golden cording. His breeches are a dark musturd color, which tuck into a pair of black boots. He shakes his dark brown hair, shedding some of the rain. To rid himself of the shivers that have wracked his slender form, he moves over beside the fire to warm himself up. He gives the young man dressed in black a friendly nod, before he extends his hands towards the warming flames. "Good eve." His voice has an almost musical quality to it, even just speaking.

Oliver tilts his head towards the sounds of a new arrival. The guard and the other man in black both look at Bastien as he comes in and then approaches Oli. The young lord doesn't return the nod or reach out a hand but he does lift his chin. His eyes star off into space, probably around Bastien's middle. "Is it evening? Alright. I hear the weather is having a tantrum." He speaks softly. His own voice ragged from lack of use and nutrition. While he is showing color in his skin, it is obvious he's under weight.

"Not all that long, but evening it is." The teenager is for the moment either unaware or unconcerned with the presence of the two other men. Bastien chuckles softly, "Yeah, you could say that. It feels as if winter does not yet wish to relinquish its claim and is trying to chill the land with one of its last rains." He glances at the other man, "Seems you have had the luxury of avoiding it for the time being."

The young man keeps staring at Bastien's stomach though it looks like he's just… staring. "I like winter." He speaks softly. "I was raised in it. I enjoy curling up under pounds of fur to keep warm. In the summer, the best one can do is strip down to nothing and sometimes still it's far too hot." He shakes his head and grins. "If it's evening, I've been here since…I felt the sun on my face."
GAME: Save complete.

Bastien chuckles. His laughter rolls with the luxuriousness of velvet. "You just described the best thing about the warmth. I like to feel warmth on my skin, to be embraced by the sunlight. The cold of winter is just too distant." His fondness for the warmth might be apparent by how close it is that he is to the fire. He pauses, "My throat requires something to drink. Can I perhaps get you something while I am at it, m'lord?" He draws the 'm'lord' out just a touch, almost to inquire the other man's name.

The young one cannot see where Bastien is. He only feels the warmth. "Then you lose out on the warmth of a bed with furs." He grins. "Like a nice summers day. Mid summer I am a wreck. I over heat and if I could swim all the time I would." He grumbles. He finishes off his ale and nods, holding it in front of him and no where near Bastien. "I will have more ale." He speaks softly. "I am Lord Oliver Basilisque of Camlach."

It does not take a genius to figure out some things. The odd glance, the blank stares, the mug held out oddly. He reaches out to take the mug, letting his fingers touch the other man's hands just enough to let him know that the mug is secured in his grip. "Well, met Lord Oliver… I am Bastien Aubrey… " He pauses and then corrects himself. "Lord Bastien Aubrey Mereliot." He smiles, "Give me but a moment and I shall return with something to quench both of our thirst."

The blind lord feels the mug taken and nods his head. He slides back further in his seat and lifts his hand up. The tall man in black moves over to Oliver and they speak quietly. Henri leaves Oli looking as if he's seen a ghost. He's terrified. His hands brush up and down his thighs and he bows his head and waits.
GAME: Save complete.

Bastien returns with a mug of ale for Oliver and a glass of wine for himself. He sets his own glass on the fireplace's mantle before he kneels slightly to offer the blind man his ale. "Is everything alright, your lordship?" He lets that same richness of his laugh roll across his voice.

He keeps his head bowed. "You are a Mereliot." His voice breaks slightly. "I…spoke ill against one of your cousins." He speaks softly. He keeps his hands on his legs as he keeps his head bowed but he doesn't apologize for speaking ill.

Bastien cocks his head and smiles, "Well, I'll tell you what, M'lord Oliver, as I do not know the context of that previous slight, nor of said slight to begin with, so I shall not hold it against you." He chuckles softly, "So please accept the drink that I have before you, and worry not about it." He glances in the direction of the large man, "Besides, should I try anything I have no doubt that your man will leave me but a smear on the floor here."

The blind man grumbles. "A Mereliot was a bed mate for a while. I asked if he wished to be more serious with me and he said he was not looking for anything serious. Less than a month later he is betrothed. So I told him, in short, to fuck off." He frowns and Henri winces over by the bar. "My lord watch your mouth." Oli grumbles to himself. "The guard is meant to watch me but Henri is my bane."

Bastien listens, "Well, to play advocate for my cousin… betrothals are not always a matter of choice. Whether or not this is the case here, I would have no clue." If the ale is accepted he moves back, otherwise, he remains kneeling before Oliver. "But I can see where you might have felt thusly wronged."

He does take the ale and he drinks it. "In my pain, I wanted to spend time with a lady I was enjoying spending time with then she said her lover and … It's just all around horrible. Lady I liked was taken and the man I liked hurt me. So I have sworn off affection or warming bed mates. It causes pain." He grumbles as he sips his ale.

Bastien leans up against the side of the fireplace. "No offense, M'Lord, but that is utter folly and foolishness. Twice burned by your age, might suck, but there is no reason to foreswearing the touch of a bed mate. The affections of a lover can and should make any past utterly forgetable."

The blind man frowns. "Perhaps it's folly but lack of love means less self inflicted pain. I might be lonely or sad but I'd rather that than feel my heart break again." He shakes his head. "I felt what losing a wife did to my brother. I felt the pain of my mother as she buried my father. That is a hurt one cannot heal."

"There might be pain associated with loving someone, but that is ignoring all the good things that come with it as well." Bastien looks at Oliver, "I am sorry that you feel wronged by one of my family members. I hope that you might come to change your opinion on love… such a view of love is a terrible thing that no one so young should ever possess." He speaks as if he has much experience beyond the other man, who is probably about his own age.

The young lord listens and shakes his head. "People like you get to love. People like me…" He gestures to his eyes. "We don't. We are the one night stands or the fetish fucks." He shakes his head again. "No one will love me so why give love any time in my mind." He points out.
GAME: Save complete.

Bastien purses his lips, "Are you gifted with the ability to see the future? Because unless you are, then you are using your blindness as an excuse not to see the possibility of something. If you are certain that there is no chance of love, then you will never recognize it, should it present itself." He shakes his head, "I am sorry that your have been hurt. I truly am, but that is no excuse to set your future to such a desolate and absolute existence."

He takes a deep breath. "My father told me after I was blinded that I lost my name. No one would believe my signature and that it would be forgotten in the annals of the family. I would only be called the youngest one who was blind." He sighs quietly. "Who wants that attached to them. I'm sorry milord but I am doing everyone else a favor."

Bastien frowns deeply. "I cannot speak to that without possibly offending your father and your family." He looks to Oliver, "So it probably would be best that I don't speak, but I still think that you are being an idiot. I am sure that there is the perfect person for each person…. I just hope that you and yours somehow manages to stumble upon yours."

The blind man grumbles. "My father is dead and I'm not an idiot. I am stubborn." He points out. "There is a fine line. I feel a certain way and because of that, I don't want to feel that anymore so I refuse."

Bastien lets out a soft sigh as he chews on his lower lip. "My condolences on your loss." He nods slightly, "A fine line indeed. At times I do not think that it is the width of a boot…. It is easy to teeter on one side or the other without realizing it."

He grumbles quietly. "I see that you are telling me I'm being an idiot." He leans back and grumbles. "I just don't trust people, my lord." He speaks softly as he leans his head back and closes his eyes.

Bastien grins slightly, "I did not say that, m'lord, but you are free to draw that conclusion." He takes a sip of his wine, "But I will not trouble you any longer this evening. It was nice meeting you, Lord Oliver." With that, Bastien moves to find another place a bit further from the fire.

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