(1311-03-27) Confessions and Regrets
Summary: Bastien returns to the Lis D'Or and ends up spending the night talking with Emory.
RL Date: 03-27-2019
Related: None
bastien emory 

Le Lis d'Or - Night Court

The salon of Lis d'Or emanates the very air of refinement. Be it through the elaborately done inlay work in the wooden floor, a depiction of the marque of the salon, the golden lily; be it through the heavy curtains of purple brocade with golden lilies embroidered upon them guarding the floor to ceiling windows that look out on a carefully kept garden, where nature pointedly has been subjected to human hands and taste. Be it through the fashionable chaise longues and chairs, carved from dark mahogany, with the purple upholstery and embroidered cushions enhancing the comfort of seating. The walls have been kept to a light mauve hue, adorned with masterfully done paintings of several notable former courtesans of this salon. It is all there, the grace, the poise, the perfection, and sometimes even the frailty that has blended into this salon's canon. A canon so adequately displayed by the courtesans and adepts that can be encountered here.

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


The salon has its usual array of courtesans and patrons making their way through from here to there, or engaged in small knots of conversation. Tonight, Emory doesn't seem to be entertaining anyone in particular. He sits in one fo the chaise lounges, a glass of wine in hand, and making polite conversation with those who come through and recognize him. His attention, however, is vigilant, perceptive, picking up details of those within the room without lingering overly long.

It has been weeks since Bastien's rather abrupt leaving of the salon. Now, this eve, the young musician returns dressed in new clothes of silk velvet and rich cotton. A smile dances across his lips as he returns to the walls so familiar; the home that he had known his entire life. That is until it dawns on him that he is now a guest of the salon and not part of it. As he walks through the room he smiles and greets a few of the courtesans. His smokey grey eyes falls onto yet another familiar feature of the salon, one who does not seem to be engaged currently. As such, Bastien walks over to where Emory lounges, "Good evening, Emory… long time no see." He offers with a slightly meek smile.

Emory notices Bastien's presence in the room long before he approached, but as is his wont, he neither stares nor seems inclined to interrupt the younger man's wanderings. When he approaches, however, a smile touches his lips. "Indeed. It has been some time. You are looking well," he observes, taking in the new clothing from head to toe, and then back up once more. "What brings you to visit this evening?" He rises then, up to his full height, and offers a dip of his head.

The word 'visit' is almost like a knife cut. He sighs slightly, "I miss being here… I needed to feel like myself." He glances down at the new doublet, "Yeah, I suppose the clothing is a bit better than what I had before." The youth reaches up and brushes the hair from his eyes as he shrugs, "But I guess it can't be the same as it was, can it? I mean I'm on the other side of things now, huh?"

Not that anyone in the Lis d'Or dresses poorly, and certainly not the Dahlia. Emory's own attire rivals that of the nobility with whom he is often seen, accompanying them to one event or another. However, he senses that disappointment in Bastien and he reaches out a hand to gently lay it on his shoulder, "Come then, and feel at home for a little while. What would help you feel more like yourself, and less like you've stepped into a new life that is not your own?" His tone takes on something more of a familiar tone, like he's always used in the past, letting the formality drop as he speaks quietly to Bastien.

Bastien's hand reaches up and lightly lays on Emory's for a second. The casual and somewhat peaceful smile that is so natural on the younger man's lips returns. He shrugs, "I don't know…. I never got my debut, so it's not like I ever got to sing for someone other than the teachers really… " He cocks his head slightly to the side, "Really, I guess, just to sit and watch the comings and goings, the dance between the guest and courtesan."

Emory smiles in return and then nods, "Well, you are no longer bound by those expectations anymore. You can sing if you wish, or observe as you wish, or contract with a courtesan of your own if you wish." He gestures toward the chaise that he had just vacated and says, "So.. sit, and make yourself comfortable." There are others who notice Bastien. Some of his former fellow Novices wave subtly as they pass by, giving him welcoming smiles. There doesn't seem to be any ill feelings about his departure. Sometimes the obligations of nobility call.

Bastien smirks slightly, "You would be surprised how freedom is more restricting. I feel like every single step that I make is being judged, whether or not, it is true." He smiles to several of his "fellow novices". He shakes his head, "No. I could not take your seat. Please sit back down." He pauses, "For the time being, I am quite content to stand.

"It's not my seat," Emory points out with an amused little smile, "It belongs to the Salon, and thus is free for anyone." But unless Bastien sits, he settles onto one end of it and motions with one hand, "Come and sit with me at least. You'll unsettle me with your looming." It's clearly a playful tease. Then he says, "Well, there may be judgment here, in public, but if you prefer something more private, when you've finished people watching, we could always retire elsewhere." He leaves it open to Bastien to decide what will make him feel most comfortable, and lifts his glass of wine for another sip.

Bastien grins widely enough for slight dimples to frame he corners of his lips. "Well, I can't have me unsettling you by my looming." He sits at the other end. "Surely I would be interrupting some other obligations. I am surprised that your companionship is not already requested." He runs his canine slowly across his lower lip. "But if you are not so otherwise engaged, maybe I could sing for you… "

"My time is my own," Emory says with that little curve of amusement to his lips. He chose to stay at Lis d'Or long after he'd made his marque, and he comes and goes as he pleases, tithing appropriately to the house, but also attending to his own affairs. The luxury that is afforded him, is freedom to do as he pleases with his time. "I'd like to hear you sing," he says genuinely. "I regret that I wasn't able to see you perform formally before you left." Then he says, "My company is yours, for so long as you like it."

Bastien leans back a little, obviously a touch more relaxed. "Oh, you may regret saying that. I might like for a very long time. Growing up, you were always a bit of an enigma, so mysterious and charming." He lets out a long breath, a heavy sigh laden with regret. "Is it wrong of me that my father could not wait another month to suddenly decide to claim me as his son? I spent so many years working towards my debut, and now, it will never happen."

Emory's smile ticks up a little at the edges with amusement and he says, "A very long time, hm? And how long might you consider a very long time?" He seems satisfied, though, that Bastien seems to be relaxing. He leans back against the arm of the chaise, tilting his body a little bit so that he is facing, and his attention is on Bastien. He does smile a bit in sympathy though and says, "No, it's not wrong to want for what you have prepared for for so long, nor is it to feel sadness in its loss, at least in the loss of how it might have been. You may yet perform."

Bastien arches an eyebrow, "A very long time? Long enough to know everything about someone, past, present, and future." He cocks his head slightly, "Until the stars burn out… Or until we bore of each other's company." He nods, "Perhaps… but I am not sure that it would be the same… " He shakas his head, "Mereliot….. " He sighs slightly, "I always wondered who my father was… but I would have never thought that I was a Mereliot…. I don't think that if I were to perform that it would ever be the same."

"That /is/ a long time," Emory agrees, though not with any particular degree of concern, it seems. "Do you want to know me that well, Bastien? Or do you think that you'll bore of me long before it becomes a concern?" The smile never leaves his lips. Reaching out, he rests a hand on Bastien's forearm and says, "You are a Mereliot, but you were always a Mereliot. You are no different where it matters, than when you were last here. They can change your clothes, but you are the same man, with the same heart. And no, I would be lying to you if I said it would be the same. A debut is.. a performance, a celebration, a coming of age, an introduction to a whole life in service to Naamah." He gives a small squeeze, "I am sorry, that you will not get to experience that joy. I hope, though, that your new life will hold many others, perhaps some that you would never have known here, and that somehow, that will lift your heart."

Bastien looks to Emory for a silent moment. "I think it is more likely that you would bore of me much before either would happen." He pauses for a second, "And to answer your first question, with out a doubt." He rolls his shoulders, "I don't know if that's true… I mean me always being a Mereliot… I was not a noble… I never thought of myself, nor did I ever really want to be one, but now I have no choice but to be. I have servants who expect me to know what I am doing. It is a weight that bears down upon me, every waking moment." He shakes his head, "And here I am wallowing in self-pity, the exact opposite reason for me coming here… I'm sorry."

Emory gently releases Bastien's forearm and instead cups his chin for a moment, tipping it upward, "The blood was in your veins whether the intent was there or not. You are still you, Bastien. It's the expectations of others that changed." He looks deeply into the younger man's eyes and says, "So, let's take your mind off of that. There is no weight on you here, tonight, no expectation. Tell me something that you'd like to know, and I will answer you truthfully."

The younger man does not tense as Emory cups his chin. In fact, he seems to be quite comfortable with the interaction. He nods slightly, "Alright… tell me of your dreams… What do you long for?" Bastien was never one to dance around, that was not part of his training.

Emory studies Bastien's expression for a moment, meeting his eyes and then leans in to murmur his answer for the young Lord's ears alone. He'd promised to be honest, after all, but not to share with the room. "I dream of a companion with whom I could be wholly myself, who could love me for all that I am, and the things I am not, and a passion that can be both edged and soft. I had that once, for a time.." But not anymore. He draws back after those murmured words.

Bastien blinks softly, as he chews on his lower lip. "That is a beautiful dream." He pauses, "I'm sorry." He says softly, and briefly enough that anyone listening would not have any context to it. "I hope that you one day find yourself so blessed." He looks to the other man for a moment, "This seems to be a melancholy kind of night." He smiles, it is truly ernestly given, "Perhaps another night you would entertain me again, and I can sing for you then. I fear that I might not be up to my best for singing tonight."

Emory's smile turns a bit wry and he shakes his head, "You asked for my dream, and that is what I desire. But no, there is no melacholy. I am fortunate to have the life that I do, and to have tasted of all the things that I have experienced. But no, there is no pressure for you to sing for me. Do it when the spirit moves you. I am pleased to find other ways to spend our time." He asks then, "So, what else would you know, then? It's going to take some time to get through the entire past, present, and future, after all."

Bastien leans back a little, "Well, I have asked you a question of the present, let's dance with the past. Was becoming a courtesan your desire originally, and if so why?" He grins, "I was serious, everything about you, my friend."

"I was born here. My mother was a Dahlia on Mont Nuit, and she came here to Eisande, where I was born here in Lis d'Or, and I was taken into my formal training at the age of six. To be honest, I recall no other life, nor any other desire. I wished to serve Naamah as my mother did, and when she died, without knowing my father, my path was clear. I found that the opportunities that it provided me, to travel, to learn, to expand my skills, and to gain a very comfortable income while serving Naamah, was what I was meant to do," Emory says without needing to ponder on it for very long. "I'm not sure what I would do if I found out who my father was at this point." He considers, "Not that I believe that I ever will."

As he listens to Emory talk, Bastien once again slowly draws his canine over his lower lip. "So our beginnings are similar. Mother held my training back until I was ten." He smiles, "No wonder you always walked around the salon like it was second nature to you, as comfortable with it as you were your own skin." He chuckles softly, "Who knows we could end up cousins…"

Emory cants his head just a little bit to one side as he regards Bastien. He gives a slight dip of his head when their similar beginnings are noted. And then he says, "I always felt at home here." He's always veen very confident, and secure, sure of himself. If there is one thing that can be said about Emory, it is that he suffers from no self-doubt at all. One brow arches a little bit and he says, "I suppose that's possible. Though from what I'm given to understand, my father is most likely from Siovale."

Bastien arches his eyebrows slightly, "I jest more than anything, but my sentiment is that you never can know for certain what is meant for us. I am proof of that." He pauses, "Past and present, I suppose I should ask of the future." He smiles widely, "That way if I ask at least one question of each, whenever we meet, there should be always plenty to talk about for a very long time." He shrugs slightly, "I'll go with the obvious one tonight… what do you want out of life? To be the most desired courtesan or an exclusive companion to someone? What do you want?"

"One does never know," Emory smiles, seeming to have gotten the jest even though he had also considered its feasibility. Then he nods his head, "Past and present have been explored. The future it is, then." He motions for Bastien to ask his question, and when he does, there's a considering look that comes over Emory's features. "To be the pinnacle of anything usually involves a great deal more attention than I truly require. I desire to be the best at what I do in particular, and to live as I wish. I suppose if there were a man who loved me deeply and passionately, and I him, then perhaps yes, I could be the exclusive companion of one man. Xavier never asked it of me, but then, he came with his own complications." Xavier and Emory had been lovers for some time, never as Courtesan and Patron, just as lovers. But it had been more than half a year since the two had been seen together. Whatever there had been, had ended.

Bastien studies Emory for a moment. His expression almost unreadable, as he does so. "I have no fear that if it is what you truly wish, then that is exactly what you will have. You have always seemed more than capable in your craft, or that could just be the amount of confidence that you exude in everything you do." The younger man then smiles, "I know a lot of us dream of finding that other person who completes us." He snorts slightly, "Some of us would just be happy with someone that adds just a little bit more, but then again, I am young and until I was released from my obligations denied from giving into the desires of youth…."

"To a world of possibilities." Bastien reaches and lightly clinks his glass against Emory's. "If you are available, I might need you by my side, at least for the first couple of social engagements that I am required to attend. If for no other reason than to remind me that I can do it. I guess that is what makes Dahlia's so adept in that regard."

Emory clinks glasses lightly and then takes another sip. "Let me know when they are, and I will make some time for you." Not that he will see if he has time, that he will /make/ time. "I'll give you what you need to know about those that you meet so that you can feel comfortable enough greeting them, and can serve as a little bit of a buffer during conversation, so that you don't need to feel on the spot."

Bastien brings the glass to his lips. He takes the sip, slowly, drawing it out a bit, before he smiles. He nods slightly, "I cannot think of anyone else that I would prefer to be at my side. Thank you, Emory." His eyes flicker from a couple of the people in the salon for a moment, before they return to Emory.

Emory inclines his head with a smile, "It will be my pleasure." He is quiet then for a moment, following Bastien's glance, and watching people as they come and go. Since he seems engaged, no one bothers them, leaving them alone to talk. He turns his attention back to Bastien after a moment and asks, "Were there others that you wanted to see while you were here? Am I monopolizing your time?"

Bastien laughs, "You are indeed monopolizing my time, but that is alright. I came here to feel like I was home, not to see anyone in particular." He looks at the courtesan, "I would not trade our time together tonight for anything, so please think nothing of it. " The younger man reaches up and combs his fingers through his hair as he continues to recline most languidly, "It is I that fears that I am the one monopolizing your time."

"And yet I already told you that I do with my time what I please, and that I was at your disposal for as long as you like tonight," Emory points out with a little gesture of his glass in Bastien's direction. "So, with that settled.."

Bastien nods his head just slightly, "You did, but that does not change my own concerns. This is all quite queersome being here like this, especially here sitting with you." He takes a sip of the wine, "Don't take me wrong, I have loved each and every moment of this evening." He grins slightly, "Of course, you wouldn't be good at what you do, if I didn't."

Emory tilts his head just a little bit to the side and asks, "Do you think that's what I'm doing? Entertaining you as I would a potential patron?" His lips quirk a little bit with amusement. "And here, I thought I was just enjoying a conversation with a friend." He says, "I'm glad that you're enjoying yourself. That was the point, wasn't it? To come and be at home."

A grin eases across his lips, as Bastien shakes his head, "No, not at all, but I think that it is now innate to your nature to make someone feel good by your company." The young noble looks almost hurt at the question. "I cannot speak for you, but I was just enjoying a conversation with a friend. I certainly hope that it is what you were enjoying as well."

"That is what I just said, isn't it?" Emory asks with an arched brow and a little amused smile. "I'm glad to see you, Bastien. I've missed you being here, and I'm glad that we've been able to talk tonight. Perhaps it is innate to my nature to try to make most people feel at ease in my company. But you, I want to feel at ease because I genuinely care."

Bastien blushes just slightly, "Yes, it is." He sighs just slightly, "I have missed you too, Emory." He looks over to the other man, "I hope that this will not be the only time that we can enjoy each other's company and talk." A grin eases across his lips, "After all, I am sure that there is much more to your past, present, and future to learn."

"Oh, there is quite a bit, though you won't learn all of my secrets any time soon," Emory chuckles just a little bit. "You'll have to work for some of those." He seems to be teasing, lightly though. "And no, this will not be the last time that we talk. I expect that we'll have plenty of opportunites to do so. You know where to find me, after all." He gestures a bit to the House at large.

Bastien arches a brow as he looks to Emory, as a slightly mischievious grin eases across his lips, "Oh? And just how hard would you have me work for those?" He chuckles softly, "I am glad that this is just a first of many. I enjoy talking with you."

Emory smiles enigmatically and then says, "I suppose we'll see when we get to that point. For right now, you'll get what I'm willing to talk about in the middle of the salon in front of patrons and others of the house." He gestures a little bit at the people walking around who are by no means interrupting them, but who are also quite capable of hearing them.

Bastien sighs a touch overly dramatically - obviously done playfully, "Oh, alright. I suppose you're right. You can't have an intimate conversation in a crowd of strangers." He smiles, "I suppose perhaps then our next conversation should be somewhere more private… which I do believe you did offer when we started."

"I did," Emory says with a dip of his head, "But I also didn't want to take you away from the salon since you expressed an interest in watching the people come and go. If you'd prefer to retire to somewhere more private, then we can certainly do that."

Bastien nods, "And I have enjoyed watching. Growing up, I always thought that it was llke a great dance ever unfolding." He cocks his head, "But I have watched while we have talked… Maybe we might retire to more private settings."

Emory rises from his seat, then, and takes his wine glass with him as he moves toward the upper hallway, letting Bastien follow him as he makes his way past those in the parlor, pausing only for a moment here or there to answer a question, or greet a familiar face. Then, he is opening the door to his own suite of rooms, waiting for Bastien to go in ahead of him before he follows.

Bastien follows Emory across the parlor. His own trip across the salon is broken up by the occasional greetings with old friends. As he steps into Emory's suite he looks around, taking in the details of the room. He is quiet as he looks around. "I don't think that I have ever seen the inside of your chambers before. I am not sure why I would expect anything less, but they are quite luxurious."

"I don't think that you have, either," Emory says as he walks in, and over to one of the overstuffed chairs in the sitting area, making himself comfortable and lifting his glass of wine to his lips. He leaves Bastien to explore as he likes, seeming content to watch him from where he reclines. "They are my home," he says, "And I do like to be comfortable, and surrounded by things that I enjoy."

Bastien slowly walks around the room before finding himself by Emory. He sits down, making himself comfortable. "Thank you for sharing your home with me then… I guess that this would have never been allowed before." He looks over at Emory, "Are we still operating by the same rules of our conversation? In that I can ask you anything and you'll answer it?"

"Well, you could have come into my room before. Novices do, from time to time, bringing meals, or things to entertain patrons with for those few that I bring to my rooms." Very few, and not in a while. "Though not to linger, not to converse like this. Even as an Adept, it's likely that we wouldn't be able to talk for too long with all of your duties." He nods then and says, "The same rules apply."

Bastien nods, "True… but still, I don't think that I ever did." He looks around once again, before his eyes settle one Emory, "Tell me one thing that you wouldn't tell just anyone else. "

"No, you didn't," Emory confirms. For whatever reason, Bastien had just never been around on those occasions that Emory had call to request an adept bring something to him. It happens in a House filled with Courtesans, Adepts, and Novices. He considers the question as he studies Bastien and then says, "I am in part, selfishly glad that you will not be having a debut, because I would not have been able to win it."

Bastien looks at Emory, blinking slightly blankly. "What? Why? Why would you want to? It's not like I am really all that special, any more than any other in this house."

"Perhaps, but of the others in this house, you are the one who I desired," Emory says as he lifts his glass to take another sip of his wine, regarding Bastien over the edge. "Though, that wouldn't have been acceptable, of course, and so it wouldn't have happened. But you did ask for something that I wouldn't just tell anyone else."

Bastien slumps back in the chair slightly. "Wow. That was not something that I would have ever expected." He looks up at Emory, "Really?" He sits up a bit, his hands rest on the arms of the chair, "But now, because I'm no longer a novice, what is acceptable has suddenly changed." He cocks his head, "So, what about me is it exactly that you desired?"

Emory rests his elbow on the arm of his chair, propping his head on his hand as he watches Bastien take that in, a small smile on his lips. "Because I enjoy your company, and during the lessons that I taught that you attended, I saw in you a spark, promise, and though I've never heard you sing, I have heard from those who worked with you how beautiful your voice is. And you, yourself, are beautiful. And I had thought to spend that first night with you, on the edge of moving from one stage to another, to celebrate it with you."

Bastien chews on his lower lip for a second, not looking at Emory, or at least not really anywhere above his knees. His breath is held for a few seconds, before he looks up. "Then I will perform for you… and we will spend a night together, because now we can… "

Emory tilts his head just a little bit to the side and asks, "Is that something that you want, Bastien? Just because I told you, does not mean that you need to even think about it beyond the simple sharing of knowledge." His tone is gentle, and reassuring.

"Do you really think that I would make such an offer if I did not have some desire of it, myself?" Bastien looks over at Emory. "I told you that I always looked up to you, that I always found you to be intriguing."

Emory gives a nod of his head, then, and says, "No, I suppose not. But still, it wouldn't be me if I didn't make certain." He looks back, meeting Bastien's eyes and studying him. "You did," he agrees, and presses no further, seeming to take Bastien at his word. "Then, some night when you wish it."

Bastien nods, "Some night, when I am prepared to sing, and everything is right." He looks to Emory and says with a bit of a grin "And when you have a chance to come to your senses." He sighs, "But right now is not that night, as easy as it could be, we both know that it's not."

"No, tonight is not that night," Emory agrees with a slight shake of his head, and a small smile on his lips, that ticks a little bit upward with amusement at the mention of coming to his senses. He doesn't argue, but neither does he seem like he's about to change his mind. "No, right now, we will talk for a while longer, and then I will see you safely to your carriage before you head home."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License