(1312-04-12) Waterproof Skin
Summary: Haunting the Lis d’Or, who knows why, Hugo makes the acquaintance of one of its Eglantine adepts.
RL Date: 12/04/2020
Related: Nothing particularly.
hugo odette 

Le Lis d’Or — Night Court

In the rarefied air of the Salon de Lis d'Or the very candlelight seems softer, the music of lute or violin sweeter, and the flowers more delicately fragrant.

The outer salon is a high and airy circular chamber floored with a complex pattern of parquet in shades of polished and gleaming golden hardwood, centered upon the spreading petals of a bouquet of lis d'or. Radiating therefrom are conversational groupings of sofas and chaises and chairs of antique mahogany, upholstered in deep, bluish-purple velvet and lavishly scattered with cushions.

Opposite the main entrance the chamber's outermost curve is set with tall windows of fine glass offering a panoramic view of gardens rigorously perfected by human hands, in which not a branch nor a petal is permitted to stray from its place. Purple silk brocade draperies figured with golden lilies frame each pair of windows. The walls themselves are paneled in lavender boiseries lightly touched with gilt, and hung with portraits in oils of certain courtesans who illuminated the Lis d'Or in years past: each of whose nature shines out of their gilded frame so brightly as to leave a profound impression of personality as well as beauty. So too do the adepts and courtesans who frequent this salon form a night-blooming garden in which every blossom is ideal of its kind and yet unique.

To the right, double doors give into the theatre's Hellenic portico. To the left, next to a magnificent porphyry hearth which in cool weather never lacks heat, a pair of identical doors usually stand open upon a smaller, dark violet foyer with the salon's offices to the right, a mahogany staircase to the left curling up toward patron rooms, and the ballroom's grand portal straight ahead.

Guards in the salon's livery are a constant and discreet presence.

The salon is warm today which is a contrast to the cool drizzling weather outside. On that stage are two young novices. One is playing the piano and the other is singing. It's quite adorable even though they are skilled. Sitting with two other courtesans is a young woman wearing a beautiful blush colored dress which covers her from neck to toes. There is a book in her lap and a glass of wine in her left hand. She quietly turns the page while she reads. The two other courtesans leave her without much word and move off to find patrons.

Brushing the sheen of gathering rain from the shoulders of his dark, naval uniform jacket with with burnished gilt trim, in steps the littlest Trevalion. What Hugo may lack in stature, however, he makes up with the width of his smile, deep dimples making him look younger than he is. His first port of call is the hearth, the warmth of the room already beginning to steam any dampness from his clothes, but apparently nothing trumps a good open fire. Not even the musical entertainment on stage.

The young woman lifts her eyes up and takes in to account the man whose just arrived and his clothes. Her book closes and her wine is put down. She stands up and moves over to the back room before she walks out holding a towel and moves over to the man by the fire. "A towel for your hair and face, milord?" She offers him. "Might I offer you a warmed cider as well?" She gestures to the table.

Hugo turns his easy smile on the woman, giving a small nod and claiming the towel. "Ah, marvellous, thank you," he insists, burying his face in the towel for a moment or two before surfacing and using it one handed to rub down his hair until it sticks up in all directions. "And I can't say that I'd say no to the cider, either." He loops the towel around his neck like a scarf, hanging on to both ends. "Miserable day out there.”

Odette watches him dry and nods her head. "It is. I will be right back." She walks over to the table and pours him a nice big glass of hot cider. She walks back to him and holds out the glass. "It's lovely inside here and even the rain in the gardens today was beautiful." She grins at him before she speaks. "My name is Odette no Lis D'or. It's a pleasure to meet you milord.”

"Lord Hugo Trevalion, not that Lord Hugo Trevalion," the young man offers in return, running the phrase together with a practiced air. Apparently he's often questioned on this, and tends to nip it in the bud immediately. He offers her the towel as fair exchange for the cider and leans one hand up against the mantel as he watches her. "Pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Odette. Either you're new or I'm even less observant than I thought. Which is it, and don't be afraid to tell me I'm blind," he insists with a grin.

She nods her head and grins. "Of course. Lord Trevalion." She curtsies to him and then takes the towel. "I have been here my whole life, milord. Shall I call you a healer?" She teases lightly to him before gesturing towards the chairs close to the hearth. "To rest your feet. It must have been a miserable walk to get here."

Hugo settles himself down on the offered seat, hooking one elbow over the back of the chair and cradling his cider in the other hand. "Ah, it's just a bit of rain, though. And the One God blessed us all with waterproof skin, didn't he?" he notes cheerfully. "None of us are going to dissolve in it. So go on, tell me about yourself, mademoiselle?"

Odette blinks a few times. "I am not sure about that. Sometimes when I'm out in the rain I feel the chill right to my bones." She speaks softly. When he asks about her, she grins a little. "I am Odette. Adapt of the Lis D'or. I study Cello, Violin, Piano, and voice. I love easily and I enjoy life…also food. I like food." She chuckles a little. She's quite thin. "What about yourself?"

Hugo touches his chest briefly. "Me? Oh, just another one of the Trevalion brood, sent to sea to see the world and claim it on behalf of Terre d'Ange," he insists lightly. "Absolutely lacking in any musical talent whatsoever, I'm afraid. I'm more of a natural philosopher than an artist. Mathematics rather than music. Octants rather than octaves."

Odette grins kindly. "The world needs all kinds of people. Some wiser and smarter. Some who are more internal in their thoughts but express it with music. Some who travel the seas and some who stay on land. Without the differences in people, what kind of world would this be?" She speaks softly to him as she adjusts her dress skirt. "I feel it would be very dull."

Hugo gestures lightly towards another of the seats beside him, then takes a long, satisfied slurp from his cider. "And you? Have you ever been abroad? Seen places outside of Marsilikos?"

Odette moves over and sits in one of the seats. "I was in Elua last year. I was told I was born there. It's quite beautiful. Though I returned her, home to me. I have wanted to sail the seas but I fear I'd be useless on a boat." She huffs a little.

"I'll take you out for a day sail one day, if you want," Hugo offers, flashing that dimpled smile again. "Not today, not in the rain, but maybe in the summer? Bring a picnic, a bottle of wine, maybe. There's an island not too far offshore where I take readings that'd be perfect for an afternoon in the sun."

Odette grins slowly and nods her head. "Absolutely." Her voice touched and full of wonder. "I would love to sail with you, milord. Shall I have a dress made for the occasion?" She turns a little more to him. "I can bring the food and wine. Yet, what to wear." She taps her chin.

"Sensible footwear," Hugo suggests immediately, "and nothing that'll get in the way of moving parts. Maybe we should make a thing of it. Do you think anyone else would want to come along? Should I ask Mademoiselle Emilie, do you think?"

Odette grins a little at Hugo. "I am not sure if others would like to join. I am sure there are many." She points out to him. "I would think you'd have a lovely conversation with Mademoiselle Emilie." She offers kindly to the man. "So … sensible footwear and no moving parts. Hmm." She tries to imagine the outfit.

"I usually do," Hugo admits easily, leaning back in his seat. "Is she in just now, do you know? And not busy?"

Odette lifts her hand and gestures to the door with a soft smile. "I am sure you could go see if you'd want to speak with her." She leans back in the chair a little and grins. "If you wish to speak with her, no one is preventing you."

Hugo arches an eyebrow. "Um," he hesitates, glancing over to the door. "Well, usually I'm announced. I don't just go barging in. It would be rude. Sorry, I just assumed…?"

Odette slowly stands up with that warm grin over her lips. She moves over to a novice and brings the young woman over. "Well Lord Hugo is ready, please announce him to our Second. He wishes an audience with her." She pats the young womans shoulder and then courtsies to Hugo. "Well met. Thank you for your time and please enjoy the Salon." She turns.

"Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you," Hugo insists politely, rising to his feet when she does. "And I do mean it, if you want to go for a sail some time.”

Odette turns and bows her head to him. "I fear your heart is with another." The smile never leaves her lips. "I would be a poor imitation of the one you actually want. Take her sailing." She offers him kindly as she walks over to the table of drinks and pours herself one.

Hugo laughs softly, shrugging a shoulder. "Well, I don't know about my heart, but certainly my contract. My heart I think I ought to save for my wife."

Odette nods her head. "Have a lovely day, milord." She offers him gently as she moves off towards the dorms with a large cup of wine. She grabs her book on the way.

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