(1311-04-08) A Night Off
Summary: Emory takes the night off and is visited by Bastien.
RL Date: 04-08-2019
Related: None
bastien emory 

**Emory's Chambers - Le Lis d'Or **

This semi-circular room overlooks the grounds of the House with its immaculately kept flora. Long navy curtains tied back with gold tassels may be drawn back to appreciate the view or loosened to ensconce the room in darkness. The floors are a warm wood polished to a softness that one might walk upon barefoot and then covered over with large thick rugs that have been intricately woven into patterns of constellations, a reflection of the view of the night sky from the windows at certain times of the year. Sconces along the walls provide light to the room, a marble fireplace provides warmth during the colder times of the year, and thickly upholstered furniture in the same rich mahogany and deep blue fabric as the rest of the house creates a sitting space around it.

The bed is a large four poster mahogany creation covered in bedding of dark blue and gold. At the foot, a beautifully carved mahogany trunk sits upon an iron stand. Two large armoires stand to either side of a low table which holds a sculpture of Naamah upon her throne. A doorway leads off into a small private study off of the main room where one can make out a writing desk as well as several shelves of books and a window seat that looks out over the grounds on the occasion that the door has been left open. The entire room has the clean fresh smell, largely due to the windows being opened regularly regardless of the time of year to let in the night air.

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


Tonight, Emory is not in the salon when Bastien arrives at Lis d'Or. Instead, a novice comes up to him and passes him a small note that says simply within, "I told them that if you came by, to let you know that I was in my rooms, and to bring you up if you wish to visit. — E" And indeed, he is in his rooms, on a lovely April evening, with the windows open and the scents of the gardens below coming in through them. He is dressed only in a pair of soft breeches and a loose white shirt, having foregone all the finery for the evening, and is standing looking out over the people moving to and fro below through the evening air when the door opens, allowing Bastien entry.

Bastien enters the room. The sleeves to his doublet has been removed, allowing the volumous sleeves of the white poet's shirt loose. The green vest snugs his torso snugly still. For one of the first times, since he was called to the palace, he does not look completely miserable. The young noble steps into the room. He smiles brightly as he looks over and sees Emory, then it fades for a second. "Are you well, Emory?"

Emory looks away from the window and turns to take Bastien in for a moment, gaze slipping from head to toe, and a smile touches his lips. "Now, don't you look every bit the Lord this evening, and in a good mood, too. I suspect that you've gotten some good news, then? Or that things are improving?" The question about whether he is well or not is met with an, "Of course. So, tell me."

Chuckling softly, Bastien blushes ever-so-slightly. "I don't know about that. No, no good news really, just Lady Ortolette and I talked. She offered me some help with the baronial business, so that I can figure out what's what." He chews on his lower lip, "When I was given your note, I was afraid that you had taken ill or something." He drags his canine over the corner of his lip, "I'm glad that you're alright."

Emory dips his head and says, "Good. I'm glad to hear that you've gotten some helpful advice." He leans comfortably against the frame of the window, and tilts his head just a little. "No, I just didn't feel like putting on a performance this evening, or making small talk with the patrons. I thought to take an evening for myself, that's all." His lips tick a little at the corners, "Though, I'm flattered that you worried about me."

Bastien's shoulders slack at that. "Oh. Well, I won't trouble you any longer. Have a pleasant evening then." He offers a smile, "I will see you another evening then." The youth turns to leave the courtesan's chambers, not getting the fact that Emory had left an invitation for him to come up.

"Bastien," Emory says quietly, no Lord or title, "By an evening for myself, I meant an evening with the company that I choose to keep, because I want to, for no reason other than the pleasure of it. I invited you here because I wanted your company."

Bastien freezes and turns back around. "Really? I figured that included me." He cants his head slightly to the side. "I still don't understand why you enjoy my company so. You could keep company with pretty much anyone you choose." He reaches up and brushes a rebellious lock from his face, tucking it behind his ear, which only partially remains there. "I really don't."

Emory smiles faintly and says, "Yes, really, and of course not. Have I not made that abundantly clear yet?" He moves then, from the window, and approaches Bastien until he stands just shy of invading his personal space, a pace or two back. "Can't you just accept that I do?"

Bastien is not bothered by Emory's proximity, so he does not react to it, other than to look at Emory. He offers a weak grin, "Obviously not yet, perhaps you'll need to repeat yourself at least once more." He cocks his head to the side, with an eyebrow arched high. His intended humor announced clearly on the smirk of his lips. To the last question, he sighs slightly, "I will try. I am afraid that right now that is the best I can offer."

Emory studies Bastien's expression and a little smirk grows at his humor, "I suspect I'll have to repeat myself more than once or twice." But then he says, "Though if you have other things to do or places that you need to be.. don't let me keep you, either." He then gestures toward the seating, "Or make yourself comfortable."

Bastien shakes his head, "I have no other place to be or thing to do. I came to compete for your attention with the rest of the guests of the Salon." He moves from the door, "And to be welcomed home."

"There's no competition tonight, Bastien. You have the whole of my attention," Emory says, and when Bastien moves away from the door, he reaches out to lightly take his hand, and pull him toward the couch, drawing him down onto it unless he resists the gentle pull, letting go immediately if he does.

A wide smile eases across his lips, as the older man takes his hand and drags him down onto the couch. He does not resist the action. "I believe now, it is you that has the whole of my attention." He chuckles softly.

Emory settles onto the couch and says, "So, since we both have one another's undivided attentions, what shall we do with it?" He lets one arm rest across the back of the couch, bending his elbow and resting his head against his hand to look at Bastien.

Bastien looks down for a second, then looks up, eyes meeting Emory's eyes for a second before he speaks. "Sadly, not one of the things that I would like to do with you." He leans back on the back of the couch, "I have decided that my not-debut will be the competition on the day of Eisheth." He glances at the courtesan, hoping that the man interprets that as he intended it.

Emory sits back and away from Bastien then, allowing a little bit of distance to grow between them and simply nods his head. "Then I wish you the best in that competition," he says, inclining his head to the young Lord.

Bastien looks at Emory, "I would hope that you will be in attendance." He pauses, then adds, "And that you would have no obligations for later that night."

"If you'd care for me to be in attendance, then I will be, of course. I've wished to see you perform for some time," Emory says, and then adds. "I will make certain that I have no other obligations, then." He studies Bastien from across that short distance between them. "Do you know what you will sing?"

Bastien shakes his head, "No, not yet at least. I have several choices in mind, but I have decided upon none of them yet. I still have a couple of weeks before the competition." He pauses and looks at Emory with a bit of a grin, "That is if you still wish that you could be the winning bidder, otherwise… Well, I probably will still sing… I think."
That is not a valid player.

"I do," Emory says, with that little smile that hovers about his lips. "Though, there is always the chance that I will lose. Wanting a thing and getting it are not always the same thing. But getting to hear you sing will be motivation enough. Though I suppose I'd imagined a slightly more intimate performance when we last spoke." He chuckles. "But you should have the performance that you wish."

Bastien looks at Emory, "I plan to sing something special for you and you alone afterwards, that has not changed, but I figured you might like the anticipation of listening to me perform with others about. I would hope that you would not be alone in being thusly moved by my performance and to know that it is you that I will go with afterwards."

"Oh, I will always enjoy the ability to see you perform, whether before an audience of two or two hundred," Emory says, that smile flickering across his lips once more. "And I suppose that I can wait with patience, to hear what it is that you've chosen to sing for me, alone." He says, "And even moreso if you are certain that it's me that you wish to go with afterward."

Bastien stretches his arm across the back of the couch. "I am quite sure…" He leans back a little more languidly. His eyes now gazes at Emory, slowly working their way down and back up.

"Very well, then. I will look forward to it, my Lord," Emory says with a little bit of exaggeration on the title, just slightly teasingly so as Bastien's gaze works its way over him. He inquires, "Shall I pose, so that you might complete the portrait in your mind?"

Bastien straightens up a little bit at the use of 'lord'. "I thought that we were Emory and Bastien…." He chuckles, "No need for that, I have quite the imagination." He arches that eyebrow once again.

"I figured I'd accept the invitation formally," Emory says, and though he hasn't at all moved from his comfortable sprawl against the back of the couch, his head propped on his hand, clearly gently teasing more than anything else. "We are Bastien and Emory." One brow raises just a little bit and he asks, "Do you? Have you imagined me often, Bastien?"

Pleased with Emory's response to them being themselves and not lord and courtesan, Bastien relaxes once again. He grins impishly to Emory's question as he simply answers, "Often enough."

"And what do you imagine?" Emory asks, curiously, shifting his position on the couch to draw his legs up and recline comfortably in the crook of the arm and back of the couch, his head resting against it as he looks over at Bastien, smiling a bit as he relaxes once more.

The tip of his tongue traces across the edge of his lips, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Bastien grins slightly, "Though I will say that some of your clothes, I don't have to imagine that much." His hand rests on his knee, as he looks over at Emory.

"No, I suppose that there wouldn't be much left to imagine at this point, would there?" Emory chuckles, knowing full well that some of the things that he's worn in the house for particular events were more revealing than others. Though, the Dahlia typically wears quite a bit more clothing than some of the other Houses.

Bastien leans his head to the side as he watches Emory for a moment, "But then again, like I said, I have quite the imagination, so I may take some liberties in my thoughts." He grins slightly and he chuckles. "So tell me, Emory, if you wish my company, what shall we talk about?"

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