(1312-03-08) The Tail End of Winter
Summary: … Brings with it a vignette of cautious flirtation in the Rose Sauvage. (Warning: Some suggestively Mandragian content.)
RL Date: Sun Mar 08, 1312
Related: Nothing in particular.
raphael cyrille clara dante marco 

La Rose Sauvage — Night Court

A huge hearth of black marble, with gargoyles of stone adorning the mantlepiece, governs the foyer of the Salon de la Rose Sauvage, which emanates a certain dark air, the interior design of the more heavy sort, that could easily be encountered in a gentleman's club, especially with the dark cherry wood wainscoting used on the walls. Dark leather upholstery is predominant in the furniture of chaise longues, couches and long-backed chairs that are arranged in a half-circle, leaving space in the center for courtesans (or patrons) to kneel for an inspection. Three tall windows with circular stained-glass insets are framed by dark red curtains of heavy brocade, a few golden threads worked into the fabric catching occasionally the light of flickering oil lamps at the walls. The lamps light a pair of portrait paintings, of the two founders of the salon, Edouard Shahrizai and his cousin Annabelle no Mandrake, resplendent in their dark Kusheline appeal; and a cabinet in a corner, holding a number of quality wines and a flagon of uisghe.

The foyer has a high ceiling, and a gallery beyond a balustrade of dark teak wood, carved in the shapes of gargoyles. Sometimes a few veiled creatures can be spotted up there, stealing glances at what is going on below; from the gallery, which can be reached by ascending some winding stairs at the back of the foyer. Beside the stairs leading up is a hallway on ground level, leading further into the building to where the offices of the leader of the salon and his two Seconds can be found, along with the two wings of private quarters for roses of Mandrake and Valerian canon.

The tail end of winter, just when the doldrums and the slight promise of warmer weather on the still-cool breeze push people out of their homes, and the houses of the Night Court are in readiness to draw them in and remind them of what they may have missed snuggled in their own beds through the worst of winter. The hour is yet early evening, when the first stars of the court are starting to come out, though patrons are as yet only few. Raphael, Second of Thorns, emerges from the corridor in a wine-colored silk shirt undone to upper chest and fitted black leather breeches, carrying a loosely-coiled horsewhip in his right hand. He is accompanied by a Thorn novice, and when he points to the garden, the boy dashes off through those doors to do something the Second has ordered. Raphael pauses a moment to see what pieces are already on the board.

The end of winter it may be, but that doesn't mean that the time has passed for Clara to knit BOMB ASS HATS. And that is what she is doing as she walk in to the main room, padding barefoot in an emerald green silk gown and knitting an AMAZING red woolen hat for someone as she does so.

Danté makes his way out of the hallway and into the foyer dressed in his usual pants and white silk shirt. He's got his satchel slung over his shoulder as he looks around the foyer as he looks around making his way towards the fireplace.

Even knowing that it may be something that Cyrille would want to explore, a place that the de Rocaille Lord would like to see, it would still take some coaxing to get him out to see the place. So by the time he enters the front door, Cyrille and his pair of guards are coated in a thick layer of snow, slush and some ice. The Lord in question arrives sharply dressed, aside from his new suit of frost, wearing an elegant doublet of dark green silk with a thick overcoat of black velvet and white fur. Escorting him are a pair of guards, one middle aged male with bright blue eyes, and a slightly younger female with emerald green eyes, both wearing the colors of House de Rocaille.

Shivering, the half frozen noble steps into the salon with his arms brought around his chest, murmuring some disdainful comment to himself as he casts a side glance towards the male guard. Then his eyes sweep around the room for a silent moment, his skin already somewhat red from being outside in the cold.

Red Rose novices immediately move to collect outerwear if the lord does not reject them. Raphael spends a moment taking in the measure of the young man and takes two unhurried steps in his direction. "My young lord," he addresses, not having entirely closed the distance between them yet, "We've not met before." He sounds sure of that. "Welcome to the Salon de la Rose Sauvage." For now, he says no more, pale eyes like a thick layer of ice on a pond, far yet from melting.

Clara looks up when she hears the novices moving, and Raphael speaking. She sees who it is and gives a beaming smile to the young man. She makes her way over, hat and all, and overs a curtsy. "My lord," she greets softly. "It is good to see you again. I am glad you gathered the courage to come see us in our garden. Is there something that we can offer you this evening?" She asks with a warm smile.

Danté glances over as Raphael goes to greet the new guest before he moves towards them although when Clara goes to greet him he ahhhs some and goes to take a seat in his favorite chair near the fire to watch and see how the young lord reacts to the greetings."

As the novices move towards him, Cyrille reluctantly opens his arms, relinquishing his overcoat for them to take. As Raphael takes his steps forward though, he dips his head towards the man politely. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Lord Cyrille de Rocaille." He murmurs softly, the pair of his guards already splitting away to give him his distance.

For the greeting he gets from Clara, his lips curl softly towards her, and he inclines his head to her as well. "It's good to see you again, Clara. I was rather…" He starts, pausing as he scans about the room again. "Exploring the city some more. Still learning where everything is as of yet."

"Come in, please, Lord Cyrille" Raphael invites, voice plush velvet wrapping a steel blade. His gaze flicks to Clara and there is the hind of a smile. "I am called Raphael. You know our Clara," he observes. "You've come to the right place for exploration. And Clara is a tremendously qualified guide. Will you have something to drink? Uisghe? Wine?"

Clara nods at that, looking over to Raphael with a smile. "Well, this is quite an…exciting place to explore. All these years and I am still finding secrets within it from time to time, to be honest," Clara confesses with a grin. "Please, make yourself comfortable, and we will bring you what you would like," she adds to Raphael's question. If his voice is steel wrapped in velvet, hers is just velvet.

Danté just watches for a bit longer then motions for a seat by the fire, "Why not come take a seat. Warm up by the fire." Where Clara might be velvet and Raphael steel wrapped in velvet Dante is well… Smooth as silk. "And as our esteemed Second of Thorns said Clara is a most qualified guide. If you're wanting to visit with one of our skilled Red Roses."

At the beckon, Cyrille takes a light step forward, inclining his head towards Raphael, and then adding a soft smile. "Wine, please." He murmurs, a hand lifting up to run through his hair, pushing out a splash of the dampness gathered. His eyes shift towards Danté though, at the invitation to sit. Everyone else has a voice, and his is soft, kept low and reserved. "Clara is… Quite lovely." He agrees, casting his eyes towards the Red Rose in question as he moves to find that offered seat by the fire. "And I do find a woman's touch to be appealing… But I'm not convinced I'd know what to do with a Red Rose."

Raphael makes a small gesture that sense a novice off to fetch the wine. "Of course she is," Raphael agrees softly with Cyrille. "And what one does with a Red Rose is to seek her yielding by whatever means one pleases." He smiles faintly and nods Dante's way. "Dante can certainly school you if you wish for lessons."

Clara nods, and grins as Raphael sends a novice off for wine. She will wait to intercept it to bring to Cyrille, and then grins at the man's question…and Raphael's response. "We are there to be done with as you wish, my lord. Surely there are things you have thought of, if only the right woman would give you the chance?" She purrs a bit as she speaks. "Or the right man. We are there to always be the right ones for you to bring that desire to life."

Danté raises an eye brow and nods a bit, "If you're wanting to learn what to do with a Red Rose absolutely… if it's because you're more interested on being the receiving end of a Thorn? That's a different story. I mean I can still teach you but it'll be a different sort of lesson." He nods towards Clara, "As she said. What's your knowledge of our lovely Salon?"

While Clara intercepts and presents the wine, Cyrille gracefully accepts, nodding his head at her gratefully before bringing it to his lips. Noticably, his cheeks remain a deep red color to spite his body having warmed more so now. He takes a light sip and casts a glance towards Danté, and then back at Clara and Raphael. "My knowledge is somewhat limited." He admits, his gaze slipping down into the wine in his hands. "Though I do think I'd prefer a Thorn, myself. But with a feminine touch.."

"That's something that can be arranged," Raphael tells Cyrille, inclining his head. "Although unfortunately none of my female adepts are scheduled to work this evening. If that is to your interest, however, I can make your desires known to our adepts and courtesans and we can schedule a visit for you very soon. They will know precisely what to do with you, my lord."

Danté just nods and lets Raphael handle telling Cyrille about the status of female Thorns, "Oh they're quite good at what they do I'm sure you'll find their firm touch exactly what you're needing in your life."

Clara doesn't seem disappointed when the young man confesses that he would prefer a Thorn, she smiles. "I am certain that they would be happy to schedule time with you, my lord, even though they are not available right now. Unfortunately it is not my specialty, or I would be more than happy to take the time with you myself."

"That is quite alright." Cyrille murmurs towards Clara, his eyes lifting from the wine, to her, and then onto Raphael and Danté. It's the last comment from Raphael though that has his blush growing a touch, and his head nodding a bit. "That would be… Ideal, yes. Please."

"Consider it done," Raphael replies, inclining his head. He slips away for a moment, back down the hall whence he came, perhaps to record that very message and the name of the lord in question, that there should be no delay in putting the man in contact with his desired mistress.

Danté leans back in his seat as Raphael goes to handle business, "So with limited knowledge of the Salon perhaps a brief lesson may be in order? It sounds like you understand your Thorns and Red Roses a little bit? Have you heard of the White Roses upstairs?"

Claiming a seat, Cyrille brings the wine to his lips for another gentle sip, watching after Raphael moves along to make his notes. Then his eyes shift to the other Thorn, giving a bit of a nod. "I have, yes. Though only in passing. I don't know a great deal about them, in truth."

Raphael reappears. By now a few others have trickled in, adepts and patrons alike. Not many, but enough that the grouping around Cyrille is no longer alone in the space. Raphael pauses to briefly clasp the hand of a blonde woman in her middle age who slips in, and then to lock eyes with a strongly-built nobleman of about fifty. These people seem known to him, so they must be regulars at the salon.

Danté nods a bit, "They're all about innocence. So the blushing never been touched before innocent. I'm sure not suited for your tastes as you seem to be one who needs a strong firm hand for you to yield to."

Carefully sipping on his wine now, Cyrille listens somewhat intently to Danté as he speaks, then he cocks a soft smile and nods his head. "I see. Yes, I think the both of us, White Rose, and myself, would make for more of an amusing pairing, than of a passionately romantic evening." He muses aloud, then peeks back towards Raphael. "He has announced himself as a Thorn. I presume you to be one as well?" He asks, glancing back at Danté once more.

After a word to the blonde woman, Raphael approaches the man who came in after her. He speaks quietly to the man, too far from Cyrille's grouping to be heard, thumb stroking along the handle of his coiled horsewhip.

Danté nods a bit, "Yes I'm a Thorn. Although I started as a White Rose. Well an Alyssum which is the canon of the White Roses. So I've got a it of both sides to me even still."

"I see." Cyrille murmurs softly back, still nursing that wine he has in hand, his eyes tracing Raphael's motions curiously as he lounges in his seat. "Best of both worlds, you could say." He suggests, peeking back towards Danté for a moment. "How long have you been in Marsilikos?"

Marco picks his way in slowly letting his eyes meander as he wnders in. He takes up a glass of wine from a novice drifting curiously towards the group smiling faintly as he catches view of a few of the familiar roses and thorns. He smiles at Dante and Raphael and then looks over Cyrille curiously and he admits, "It seems a busy evening in my favorite gardens." He says brightly as he beams to the group.

The man Raphael is speaking to lowers, after a few more words, down to his knees. A further gesture from the Second of Thorns and the man lies down on his back on the floor, drawing a few glances. The nobleman's expression remains solemn all the while. His build and bearing suggest he might once have been a soldier. Raphael, expression blank, steps up onto the man's barrel chest, standing on him with both booted feet. "Lord Marco," he greets smoothly from his new position, as though nothing out of the ordinary at all were going on. "Early as it is, we are favored with fine patrons."

Clara had been taken away for a few moments by a messenger, and sent some time in discussion with the person. Finally they are sent away and Clara returns to the group, smiling. When she sees Marco she gives a wide grin, and curtsy. "Hello, my Lord. I am sorry I wasn't here when you came up, alas. How ever can I make it up to you?" She asks with a teasing quality to her smile. "have you met Lord Cyrille?"

A new face arrives, and Cyrille allows his gaze to shift towards mark, still comfortably seated by the fire to melt away the remains of the chill of the outside. He gently nods his head towards the figure, his lips curling into a soft smile for Marco. "Seems so. A pleasure to meet you-" He peeks towards Raphael, and then back at Marco again. "Lord Marco." Then he peeks at Clara, an amused grin forming on his lips for her greeting towards the newly arrived Lord.

Marco glances over with curiosity at the man lowering himself. He smiles when Raphael steps up and Marco's eyes linger on first the man on the floor and then Raphael, "You always are… Raphael. It's a delight to see you." HE says warmlya nd then he returns Clara's warm smile and he lifts a hand up to cup her cheek if she allows, "Clara! Lovely I'm sure we can find some way for you to make it up. If we can't I've truly been away too long and lost all ingenuity." He says warmly as he tries to slide his fingers through her hair before turning to Cyrille and smiling to him, "Lord Cyrille, how lucky to meet you here. I don't think we've been too well acquainted which is unfortunate. Always it is good to meet otherss who delight in the Rose Sauvage, I trust you're finding all you could desire and more?"

"Indeed, we are fortunate," Raphael agrees with Marco, again as smoothly as if he were not standing on top of a nobleman. After a moment longer, he descends again and heads once more for the corridor. There must be some understanding involved in this, for as soon as Raphael is out of sight, the nobleman gets up off the floor and follows.

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