(1311-11-06) Don't Bite It!
Summary: In which a young lord meets a White Rose novice and has his first taste of lemon.
RL Date: 2019-11-06
Related: None
alienor oliver 

Solar: La Rose Sauvage

Compared to the darker, heavy interior of downstairs, the solar feels like a pleasant contrast, where the use of light pastel tones and white provide a light air that is almost convincing. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city are guarded by curtains in light shades of pastel greens and blues. A few thick carpets cover the polished oak floor, where a few high backed armchairs are arranged about a kneeling cushion in the center. Beverages offered here will usually be white sparkling wines, to lighten the mood and keep up a certain innocent air. The tapestries on the white walls are kept to lighter hues as well, picturesque depictions of alyssum flower arrangements along with those of modest maidens in innocent situations, while the darker side to Alyssum canon reveals itself only to the attentive eye, in the details of the woodwork in dark mahogany side tables and the seats, depicting a pair of man and woman caught in obvious amorous entanglement, she faintly resisting and averting her gaze.

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

Sitting at a table upon which is set a trio of bright yellow lemons, at least one with a bit of branch and a brilliant green leaf, is a white-clad novice with a bit of canvas, patiently painting with a careful hand the fruit before her. Her gown is perfectly white, conservatively cut, with wide bell sleeves which have been folded fiercely in bunches against her forearms so that she can avoid getting paint on the garment. A gauzy veil is doubled-over out of her face for the moment so that she can better see to paint, but she sits with her back to the door so that she can potentially hear arriving visitors with the intent to put it down then. There are guards and chaperones present, but they do not make their presence particularly known.

The young Lord that arrives doesn't arrive with fanfare or guards, he just quietly moves into the Solar then moves over to a place he can sit that is rather comfortable where he unceremoniously flops. His hair is a wreck, probably by not having brushed it today. He wears dark brown breeches, a tan tunic and a doublet with the Basilisque colors. His eyes finally scan the room and he sees the girl in white painting. He watches her brush and how it moves over the canvas rather than her. The movements of the brush seem to fascinate him.

The novice is supposed to entertain guests, not paint for herself, and so when she hears the nobleman's arrival, she's quick to her feet, though careful enough with the paint and the brush so as not to mess up her clothes. Still, by the time she's turned to greet him, the veil conceals her face, and her sleeves have been loosened to nearly conceal her hands. She curtsies deeply. "Greetings, my lord," she offers pleasantly. "How can I make you more comfortable?"

The young man lifts his eyes to her and he looks so tired. He offers her a soft grin and bows his head in return. "Keep painting. I am just going to melt into this couch and possibly fall asleep." He wiggles down a little into the cushions and makes a small happy sound. Oliver's eyes slide closed as he takes a deep breath, enjoying the tranquility of the Solar. One of his hands moves to hold his side as he lays there quietly.

"Oh, are you sure?" Alienor replies, then laughs softly. "That does sound pleasant, doesn't it? I hope that you like my work. I'm not really an artist, but it's a lovely diversion," she adds, watching the young nobleman for a moment as he snuggles in. Then she's thoughtfully going about rolling her sleeves back up, careless if her wrists are particularly sensual, and when her back is to him, she lifts her veil aside the better to see her work. Then she takes up the paintbrush again, making tiny careful motions with her brush.

Oli nods to her. "I am positive." He speaks softly to her as he looks at her work. "Your work is better than what I could do." He points out to her. "All artists must start somewhere. No one was born perfect at their craft." He rolls to his side and watches her quietly as she picks up the paintbrush again and starts to work. "You are… a rose? What type?" He questions quietly.

"I am a novice of the White Rose," Alienor replies without looking back at him as she decides how to make the lemons look more round. A little more yellow paint here, just a shade different. "To be innocent and curious is my primary craft, I suppose, but I have not yet made my debut. Hopefully, I will be able to debut soon, and then I will be available for assignations."

Oli hums quietly. "All roses debut beautifully and I am sure you will pick the person who your first assignation is with well." He grumbles quietly. "Ah white… innocent. I just clicked into that." He says tiredly. "Well I am sure you have other hobbies other than being innocent and curious. Painting." He raises his hand and points. "Those look like… nice yellow things."

"They're lemons," Alienor explains, and indeed, there are a couple of the fruits on the table on which she's working for her reference. "And I suppose politics is a bit of a hobby. It is important to know who your guests are, after all, if one is to be a proper courtesan. Which I intend to be, even if I strive for innocence always."

Oli looks at the painting and grunts quietly. "Those are lemons?" He seems surprised. "Politics is frustrating though. I wish I didn't have to worry about it at all." He sighs quietly. "Well it will take time for you to be a full courtesan but I am sure as you learn after your debut you will only get better and better."

"Well, they're supposed to be lemons, at least. I suppose if they don't serve my painting, I might just eat them," Alienor observes thoughtfully, regarding her subjects with a critical eye. She seems less concerned about their portrayal on canvas. "I am sorry that politics is frustrating. Even if it is. But you'd have to worry about something else, I suppose, if it weren't politics." There's a pause, and then she offers, "I'm Alienor."

"I've just never seen lemons before." He speaks softly to her. "I am sure there are things to be frustrated about. Everyone's life isn't perfect." He stretches himself out. "Hello Alienor. I'm Oliver." He slowly sits up again, his hair is just standing up. He yawns and a small squeak comes out. "Politics is frustrating but war more so."

"Would you like to eat one?" Alienor wonders, tilting her head to one side, tempted to look at him but careful of the paint. "Oh, war. Have you been to war? I met a nobleman who was quite the soldier the other day."

Oli shakes his head. "I am from Camlach so I was training for war before I had an accident. Now I'm coddled." He nods his head. "I'd like to try one. I am not sure what they taste like." He lifts a brow. "A noblemen soldier? Philomene?"

"No, the Vicomte de Morteau," Alienor replies as she moves to set the paintbrush away once more. She is careful of her sleeves as she reaches to pick up one of the lemons, then pulls her veil down before she heads over to bring it to him cupped in her hand. "Don't bite into it," she warns as she holds it out to him, loosening her sleeves so that they billow properly in a graceful manner. "You'll need to peel the rind off first."

He sits up as she comes closer and lets his feet touch the floor. He reaches out and takes the lemon careful not to touch her skin. "Rind?" He blinks a few times and stares at it. He pokes his finger into the lemon and pulls it across, seeing the skin peel off. He finishes peeling it and then just bites into the lemon. The face he makes as the sour hits him… it's not pleasant.

"Oh," says Alienor guiltily. "They're a bit sour. Very tart. I should have warned you it's not a sweet fruit. They're very acidic. Perhaps they're quite a bit sour. I love them, though. They're my favorite. I left one as a sacrifice for Elua at the temple." She looks nervous now, like she's certain she's in trouble for giving him an unpleasant fruit.

Oli finishes the bite he took and then sits there licking his lips. "Well…they are sour. Though I am sure… just a little of this juice on some fish would be nice. With some rosemary." He nods his head. "That would balance well." He turns his eyes to her and grins. "I'm glad you like them. My favorite fruit is … well I don't know. I haven't really… apples many?"

Alienor considers this a moment, then nods slightly. "Rosemary is a lovely herb. It always smells so good," she agrees with a little smile, obscured a bit by her veil. "Apples are actually even better with a little lemon juice. You get the sweet and the sour together. You might be surprised at how well it works!"

Oli thinks about it. "The chef I had in Camlach… she used to make apple pies and they were very sweet so she would pair it with cheese. It's odd to think but a little slice of cheese with apple pie is really good." He grumbles a little. "I have been trying to learn to cook…you know make myself somewhat useful but I don't have an appetite so getting energy to cook is a struggle. I will say though, never biting into a lemon again." He chuckles.

At that, Alienor blushes so pink that it's obvious even with the veil. "I'm sorry, my lord. Please forgive me," she says softly, even though he is laughing. "I should have warned you. Well, I did warn you about the rind. So I suppose it could have been worse."

Oliver lifts his hand and waves a little. "Do not apologize to me. I'm not worth an apology. Plus it's a good learning experience." He grins. "Imagine you said, peel the rind and sniff it but do not bite it. Honestly, I would have taken a big bite. It's who I am. Sink or swim. It's fine. It's not like it's poison. Which still… wouldn't be upset about."

"I suppose you have learned a few things about lemons today, then," Alienor replies with an amused little laugh, her stance relaxing slightly. "I am glad that I have gotten to spend some time in your company today."

Oli grins and nods to her. "I am a bastion of masculinity." He clears his throat. "Well not really…" He sighs quietly and keeps that grin. "I have learned things today. Do you know when your debut is? I could always stand in the back and cheer you on."

"It hasn't been scheduled yet, but I'm sure that you could attend. I am looking forward to it with much anticipation, but there is planning that must be done first, and the Second has been quite busy," the novice explains.

The young man nods his head. "Of course I can attend. I'm a lord." He chuckles. "I won't bid not because you aren't worth it but because you would be. A person's first time should never be with an idiot." He touches his temple. "Though I am sure once planning begins the time will fly for you." He offers her a kind smile.

Alienor crosses her arms and frowns slightly at him. "Why do you think you're an idiot? Why wouldn't you be worth my first time?" she wonders, sounding slightly concerned. "You are very self-depreciating, my lord."

He grins at her. "I was nine when I got kicked in the head by a horse. I lost my vision and didn't wake up for weeks. I have a short memory. If I meet someone and then six months pass I forget who they are and our whole conversation. I forget lots of little things." He speaks softly. "I have already lost both my parents and I'm now a single father to one very grumpy cat. So there are a few reasons to speak as I have."

"I'm sorry, my lord. But I will say this: if you forget what a lemon tastes like, I shall do a better job of warning you what to expect next time," she says, then grins brightly. "And if you forget my name is Alienor, I will forgive you and simply remind you that I'm the silly White Rose with the lemons."

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