(1311-10-14) Colourful Leaves... and Language
Summary: Zalika takes a walk in the Gardens and makes friends
RL Date: 14-10-2019
Related: None
anse ortolette zalika 

Jardins d'Eisheth

Tranquility and beauty of nature is what those coming to the gardens of Eisheth usually seek. There is a playfulness in the arrangement of paths through the greenery, and the way four of them wind to the center, where there is a pond surrounded by a few elm trees, beside an area with wooden benches and tables beneath an arbor, where ivy winds about wooden posts, and a roof of colorfully glazed tiles offers shelter from the sun but also moderate rain.

Bushes are trimmed, and the green is kept short, so that people coming here can enjoy the dramatic view over the coast all the way to the sea, with the harbor and the citadel slightly to the north. Slightly towards the south and close by is the infirmary with the herb garden beside, where a variety of plants used for healing and treating certain illness are grown under the immaculate care of the healers. Towards the east, a path leads towards the temple district, where the dominant structure of the Temple of Eisheth looms, the white marble shimmering almost otherworldly on late afternoons, when it catches the warm, orange light of the setting sun.


While the flowers of the garden are what draw people in the spring, now the attraction of the garden for most is the changing colors of the elm trees around the small pond of the gardens. It being a pleasently warm fall morning, there are a few people in the gardens, in pairs or groups enjoying their leasure time. Among the people here is one Anse, far more noticable with his blue robes and bare feet which mark his vocation immediately. He is speaking with a bright smile to another priest, this one clad in the robes of Eisheth and smartly wearing shoes instead of going around without them.

The peaceful atmosphere of the Gardens is interrupted by raised voices somewhere nearby. "FUCKING MAD BITCH!", a male shouts what's clearly not an endearment. "Don't fucking try and nick me purse, yo!", a female retorts angrily and in the rather coarse tones of the port area. "I'll have you -" "What, arrested? You're the first to hang. Now piss off!" People curious enough to look see a dark-skinned young woman threatening a scruffy youth with a short sharp-looking dagger. The pickpocket decides he's better off doing what she tells him and scampers. "Whatcha looking at?!", the woman narrows her eyes at an elderly man who quickly decides it's time to move on. Left alone she sighs and lowers the dagger.

Anse raises a brow at the sounds of conflict, and seeing the commotion he looks back over to the other priest, saying a few words as they part ways before he pads over in your direction. "Is everything alright?" Anse asks curiously once he makes his way closer to you. He seems much less perterbed by your language and demenour than many of the other more well dressed and refined folk at the gardens.

Zalika glares at the newcomer suspiciously but after a moment classifies him as harmless. The dagger is still clutched in her hand. "Bastard thought he could rob me just because I'm a foreigner. Or woman. Whatever.", she scoffs. The dress she wears is of fine material and D'Angeline cut, but splattered with mud at the hem.

Anse beams a smile in your direction "I don't think thats quite an answer to the question, but I'll take your demeanor as proof instead." Anse motions with one hand towards your own "may want to sheathe your dagger though, I think at this point you and your things are safe. Least I think no sensible person is approaching you at the gardens anymore."

"They better not.", Zalika mutters and does indeed sheat the dagger, the scabbard cleverly hidden between the folds of the dress. She seems quite ready to head off, but hesitates and eyes his garment curiously. "You're… one of them missionary types?"

"Well" Anse muses out loud "I suppose one might say that. Though I think missionarys generally preach to new converts or try and spread the faith, though at the same time I am from a different province and have moved around a lot…" Anse begins rubbing his jaw thoughtfully "lets go with yes, I am one of them missionary types" he says with an agreeable nod of his head "they call me Anse, even brother Anse sometimes when they're being particularly charitable." He says that last bit, funny or not to others, with a smile. "I take it you're less than familiar with the companions, I dont often get asked if i'm a brother, usually the robes give it away, and the lack of shoes doesn't hurt."

"We had a bunch of your lot - well similar types - back home where I grew up.", Zalika replies with a faint smirk, "Trying to convert the Heathens, luring the kids with sweets. Never gave a crap about the finer details." She dithers about for a moment, then drops into the worst curtsey in the history of Marsilikos and almost ends on her arse before she straightens again. "I'm Lady Zalika…. Trevalion." There's a slight hesitation before the last name as if trying to get her tongue and brain around it.

Anse chuckles "no need to curtsey to me, I'm just a priest." Its then his turn to bow to you "a pleasure my lady, though I am sorry to say I don't have any sweets to give away this time, I hope you can forgive me." He gives you a curious tilt of his head "and if you may forgive me, you don't quite look the part of many of the other Trevalion's I've met."

"Yea and I think I'm past the age of sweets.", Zalika replies with a faint smirk, her attitude softening more and more towards the man. "Yea, no shit.", she deadpans to the last sentence, spreading her arms sideways a little as if to indicate her dark skin. "Let's say Daddy got around some?"

"Well, all good d'angelines do get around some" Anse says with a laugh "something about love as thou wilt I believe? Besides, its the heart that counts not the look of someone isn't it? If anyone asks I'll say you make a fine Trevalion, and I wont even tell them about all the bribes you gave me to do so."

"Well, you won't get no bribes from me.", Zalika replies and looks like she's about to go into a sulk. But then she catches herself and sighs. "They wanna make me into a lady. I don't even know where to begin.", she sighs and points down her dress. "This looks like fancy dress."

Anse smiles again at your response "no bribes hrm? Must be retaliation for not having any sweets to give out." He laughs a little again "ah, unfamiliar with the role. I am sure you have a heap of servants fluttering about you normally trying to get things in this or that order. It makes me guess you might even be here trying to escape from some things like that, if I had to guess that is." He studies you curiously for a moment "do you not wish to be a Trevalion? A lot of people dream of suddenly being plucked into the nobility."

There's servants at the mansion, yes, usually trying to piss me off or getting underfoot.", Zalika confirms with a sigh, "I never had any servants and don't need them." She plants her hands on her hips defensiely, thinking. "Nah, not exactly a dream. But it's kinda nice, not looking over your shoulder all the time, worrying about foot or dealing with some fuckwit dick thinking he's Da Man." The young dark-skinned woman is currently ranting at the patient priest about something or other.

Anse can't help but laugh again at Zalika's response, its fairly apparent that he's enjoying the rant from the dark-skinned woman at any rate. "To be honest, I've heard more than one noble described as a fuckwit in my time as a priest, so perhaps they're just better at hiding it than others?" Anse posits to Zalika still grinning "I also don't think the servants goal is to make you angry, if I could wager a guess, but maybe they just have it out for you."

Ortolette glides from the Temple of Eisheth, having been there blessed and prayed for and brewed tea mixed from sacred herbs. For all that, her back hurts her, and her ribs hurt her, and her head hurts her, still gleaming with anointing oils though her forehead might be, and she sits in a discomfited slouch in her invalid's seat, head bowed and lolling slightly with the motions of her seat. It doesn't help that on her first exposure to the usually tranquil garden devoted to the healing angel she is confronted with such a bout of language. "I would ask you please keep a civil tongue in the Angel's garden," she issues, a frail girl's voice, small and apt to fail, but she certainly manages to sound irritated, for all that.

Ortolette should, of course, mention her great bear, Girard, or, rather, her Cassiline, who mans her chair and maneuvers it to Ortolette's will. She could have easily sent him to quiet the others; instead he just watches calmly from behind her.

"Well, it's all, this Mylady, that Mylady, here's your tea, Mylady, can I wipe yer arse, Mylady.", Zalika sighs and rolls her eyes at Anse. And then there's someone else suddenly trying to lecture them… from a chair. First her eyes widen in surprise, then they narrow. "What's wrong with yer legs?", she asks the girl without much further ado.

Anse looks over to Ortolette with a smile and shifting he offers Ortolette a polite bow "My lady" he says and inclines his head to Girard "brother" he says before looking back to Ortolette "I'm not sure the plants much mind the language my lady. In fact I have been told speaking to plants helps them grow afterall."

"My legs are none of your affair, and it lacks any sense of propriety on your part for you to have suggested otherwise," Ortolette answers back with as much steel in her voice as she can muster before she must pause to breathe, struggling to master her features into that serene doll's countenance she generally wears. Once she has recovered from all that use of air, she turns her focus onto Anse. "Whether or not the plants mind the language is neither here nor there; I mind it. And if you wish the plants well by speaking to them, I ask only you do so with a sense of decorum better appropriate to the Angel's garden than to a tawdry pub."

That's her told. "Yea, well, sorry for being compassionate or something.", Zalika replies, looking half-sheepsh and half-annoyed. "And well, you weren't there, were you? I'm…. uh, trying, okay? I'm sorry, Mylady." She tries another of those half-arsed clumsy curtseys, this one slightly better than the first one meant for Anse earlier. Looking to the man as if perhaps for help or advice.

Anse just continues to smile at Ortolette "what is the difference, I wonder perhaps, between here and a tawdry pub? Least where language is concerned. I've never much considered the companions caring about the way we speak, but perhaps they do. I should bring it up with some of the other brothers perhaps. I think it may make for some good dinner conversation." Anse muses out loud. When Zalika looks at him he turns that smile on her "I think your servants might say your question about the ladies legs were uncouth. Probably your language too, but personally I'd find the question more troubling than the wording, but I'm no master of etiquette."

Ortolette tries to hold herself in some attitude more elevated than a sulk, but her head is pounding and she keeps her eyes cast aside from Zalika's apology, lifting, finally, one of her arms over her head to shade her eyes. "If you find there to be no difference, at all, why not betake yourself and your companion to the latter?" she tries to spit back, but there's no energ left in her voice, at all, and when her arm falls limp to her blankets again, she looks at Zalika with a dull,eyed expression of exhaustion. "I appreciate you apologizing. I am ill, and my nerves rather raw. Pardon me if I have been more bitter with you than I ought."

"Ah, no worries, you do look a bit like sh—- ill, Mylady.", Zalika confirms and tries for what she hopes is an encouraging smile. "I'm still new to all that lady-ing about, but I'm starting to learn. Dad's gonna find me someone to give me lessons." SHe wrinkles her nose a bit at the idea. "And I didn't know it was wrong asking about legs.", she adds for both Ortolette and Anse, turning back to the latter. "Just checking if someone's alright."

Anse beams happily as the situation seems to resolve itself. "I may ask the lady to go to a tawdry tavern, but we have just met, and the gardens have been very inviting today. Why just in the last few moments i've met two new people" he says happily "I am Anse by the way my lady, and this is lady Trevalion, who if you can't tell is a bit new to the niceties of court."

Ortolette's witch-hazel eyes remain limply fixed upon Zalika. Surely the Vicomte must have been truly hard pressed to bring such a creature into the fold. That Zalika knows her not, she has no doubt, but when her eyes turn to Anse she wonders whether she may not be being teased, somehow. Flatly, "Ortolette," she introduces herself, "Mereliot." La Malade— the Duchesse's own invalid daughter.

"My name's Zalika.", the young woman adds to Anse's introduction, almost as if wanting to correct him on the whole 'Lady Trevalion' thing. Then Ortolette introduces herself and she narrows her eyes in thought. "I think I heard yer name before. Mereliot… isn't that… oh shit." She clasps a hand to her mouth when one of Dad's very first lessons on the town and its notables comes to mind. "Terribly sorry, yer Highness."

Anse can't help but be amused by Zalika's reaction and correction but he inclines his head to Ortolette slightly again "well, it is a pleasure your grace. Even if the meeting was uncomfortable for your ears. I hope perhaps the changing leaves of the garden can correct the slight of our tongues, it is a pleasent view afterall."

"Lady Mereliot," Ortolette guides Zalika with as much emphasis as her present state can muster, then, to Anse, "Or Lady Ortolette. I am not entitled, nor in line to be— as is only proper, given the state of my health." She would hardly be a fit Duchesse, after all. "Should, all the angels forfend, my elder sister not be able to inherit, my younger sister will inherit in her place," she explains the arrangement, then sighs, adjusting her back weakly against the cushions of her invalid's chair. "Yes, let us look at the leaves. They know how to die so gracefully."

"Sorry, /Lady/ Ortolette.", Zalika corrects as prompted, still trying to work things out. "So the Duchesse is yer mum?", she concludes and nods, "My, er, father said, I'll meet her some time. Not now. When I've learned to speak all fancy." Her expression clearly conveys what she things of that. "I don't think it's such a loss though, it all sounds like a right faff to me. Ruling a place. We had more fun at sea.", she tries to cheer the young woman up. And then they talk about admiring the changing leaves. So she looks at them. And looks. And sighs.

"hrm, I never much thought much about leaves turning in terms of grace" Anse muses with hos own look towards the trees and then a look back to the pair "I wonder if the leaves have their own terre d'ange that lies beyond, and if they do, what it entails. One might think that the afterlife of a leaf would be quite boring, but maybe instead its thrilling." Anse shrugs a bit "maybe lady Mereliot can teach you to speak all fancy, she does have an ear for language at any rate."

"The Duchesse, her Grace, is my mother," Ortolette converses while correcting, never quite letting that task fall from her tone in a manner that might well suggest her for the task, indeed. "And I hope you will find your duties, in time, to become more to your taste," she issues grimly, as Zalika was, after all, brought here for the purpose of managing territory for her father one day. To Anse, "Your imagination runs vivid, does it not?" she asks, conversational, but with a note of exhaustion in her voice. "What say you, Lady Trevalion? I am no tutor by training, but if you can take correction, I will lend what aid I am able."

"I think my father was going to look for a teacher…", Zalika begins thoughtfully, but there's a spark in her eyes as she considers things. "But if you don't mind me… being, well me, I'd like for you to teach me, Mylady. Couldn't think of a better person, really.", she adds, "Think it could be fun, anyway." Not wanting poor Anse to feel excluded, she looks at the leaves again and then at him. "You should see the trees where I'm from. The leaves never fall off. It's all green and lush all year, except the trees that are red. And the fruit trees full of blue and purpe figs. When the fecking monkeys aren't nicking them - er, begging yer pardon, Mylady."

"I do, yes" Anse says with a warm smile to Orolette, clearly not minding the tone of her question. "Having an active imagination is a useful thing, least for me. Its a practice of empathy is it not? Imagining things as they would otherwise be helps you place yourself in anothers situation. And having an active imagination helps one when discussing philosophy and theology as well. The fact that it also meas I ask all sorts of odd questions is just a nice bonus." Anse says happily, then hes roped in by Zalika and gives her a very curious look. "Really? I've never seen a place like that. Does it not snow their either? I'm still getting used to this mild Marsilikos weather, somewhere where its green year round sounds like it'd be a bit draining."

Ortolette considers Zalika momentarily once more, resting her head back against her pillow. "If I were your father, I would still hire on a teacher for the… finer points of grammar instruction. But for polish, I have plenty, and if you can only control your tongue enough not to be profane in my presence I will meet you for tea… let us say twice a week, to begin?" As to the seasonal changes, or lack thereof, in the tropical climes, "Yes, the days don't draw in there as they do here," she brings up. "Everyone knows a plant must be placed in the way of sunlight to thrive. If there is more sunlight there, even in the winter, what good would it do them to fail?"

Zalika smiles warmly. "That sounds good, Mylady and… er, I'll do my best. Promise.", she assures her, "Just tell me where and when and I'll be there." Anse's question just has her look confused. "What's snow? It's as the lady says, lots of sunshine. Much warmer, too, during the rains it feels a bit like walking in soup. Would be unthinkable to wear cr—- clothes like this here.", she indicates her long muddy-hemmed dress with a sigh.

Anse narrows his eyes at Zalika "you've never seen snow before? My… you're going to be in for a treat in a few months." Anse shakes his head "the world is an odd place. Would make a lot more sense just to have it all work the same way I say. Climates and the like, I'll have to mention that in my running commentary with blessed Elua." Anse says outload before smiling "well, what a fortuitous meeting. And lady Trevalion can help keep you safe too, she seems like she might be quite the talent with a dagger."

Ortolette moves her head in a gracious confirmation of her agreement with Zalika, but, as for conversation, her stamina is exerted, and her eyes half-lid, eyes shifting only half-perceptibly betwee Zalika and Anse in their conversational to and fro.

Zalika seems to have exhausted her daily capacity for civil talk as well. She eyes Anse as if wondering what this 'snow' is that gets the man so excited. "Dagger, cutlass, bow.", she does add for Ortolette's benefit in case this counts for something. "Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Mylady. And you, My… M…" Oh wait. "Brother Anse. I should be off or my father's gonna think I got lost again and sends the servants all over town." She indicates a very half-hearted curtsey and heads out.

Anse bows to Zalika as she goes to leave "I suppose I should be doing something useful at the temple myself. It was a pleasure to meet you lady Trevalion, perhaps we'll meet again some time soon." And he bows to Ortolette "and a pleasure meeting you as well my lady. I hope the rest of your day goes well."

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