(1312-05-09) Queen of Hearts
Summary: The debut of Ysabelet nó Glycine
RL Date: 09/05/2020
Related: None.
andrei audrialla bertrand-npc emilie jehan-pascal marcus maximilien melpomene paris philomene ysabelet yves zephyrine 

Gambling Hall — La Glycine

The Gambling Hall of La Glycine dazzles on first entry with cut crystal chandeliers which catch the soft light and set the place sparkling. Beneath four of the largest chandeliers are wide octagonal gaming tables in glistening, polished mahogany, inset with a panel of gently padded green velvet to provide easier gaming surfaces for dice, cards or dominoes. Seating is the height of luxury, deep, buttery leather chairs, lounges, loveseats, for any who want to play or watch, alone, or with company. Along the left wall of the room, a raised mahogany platform swells with a sultry curve, a massive spinning wheel attached to the lefthand wall closer to the door, pie-slices of variegated silks making a striking display of fluttering colors when the wheel spins. Three different indicators chime as they're plucked by the pegs which separate out each segment of the wheel, creating a musical whirling to drive up anticipation of what color might land at what indicator — and who might have to pay what penalty in this particular game.

Beyond the curve of the swollen stage on the northern wall a short passage with three stairs leads down into a more dimly lit chamber. The floor is rugged, rusticated stone rather than the polished mahogany and soft carpets of the antechamber. The couches are of the same buttery leather, arranged around a wide but shallow squared pit, around which velveteen cords have been strung from a series of posts. A massive chalkboard on the southern wall lists upcoming fight nights and events, turtle races, greased pig wrangling, mud wrestling, sparring with swords between members of the nobility. Odds are posted for wins, as well as other myriad possibilities for each event. The books are tended and the odds adjusted twenty four hours a day by one of Bryony's courtesans, so the fun here is not limited to events themselves.

It does not happen often that La Glycine sends out invitations for a Bryony flavored debut, but such has happened, given that one of their novices is to enter the next stage in her journey of becoming a Servant of Naamah. As those invited guests enter the gambling hall of the salon, Ysabelet nó Glycine already awaits them, arranged like a tempting treat on a chaiselongue in the center, propped up on an elbow, her fine form wrapped into the white silk of an Aragonian style mantilla, secured by a brooch to cover her, but of course, the slight drifting apart of the garment at certain areas may be intentional. It does not hurt to show off long slender legs, even if for now, only the lower part of calves can be glimpsed. They have a golden shimmer to them, and so does Ysabelet have over all, when some of the skin of her features, her neck seems to have been applied with gold dust. Long blonde hair has been gathered and worked into a gleaming pile, held in check by various gilded combs and hair needles, and some of those even keeping that white mantilla in check.

Standing close by is the Bryony Second of the salon, and also Bertrand nó Glycine, the foreign looking dowayne of the salon. With his hands clasped at the small of his back, the handsome leader of La Glycine will greet his guests unobtrusively, the occasional glance towards tonight's debutante clearly deliberate, as to draw their attention towards Ysabelet and the focus of this fête.

The well-respected pâtissière Audrialla has been asked to cater the exclusive event, and as always, she has delivered something with style and flare. Trays of savoury hors d'oeuvre are neatly arranged into colorful wheels that resemble the grand spinning wheel of fortune. Nothing too heavy, as so not to weigh the winning patron down; instead they are light and airy bite-sized snacks just perfect for wiling away the time until the bidding begins. Additional cheeses and vegetables provide white and green color to counterbalance. In the center of each wheel, chocolate disks have been molded and stamped into coins and dusted with gold luster so they shimmer in the candlelight. But the Pièce De Résistance is a tall tower of croquembouche with golden spun sugar surrounding. Cream filled profiteroles stack atop one another into a delicious pile of dessert, with curls of thin actual golden leaf scattered here and there so it catches the light. A promise of delictible taste with luxurious decadence; much like the novice herself.

The debut of a novice of the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers is a great and traditional d'Angeline cultural event— at least, that's the purported reason why Émilie Perigeux nó Lis d'Or has dragged with her a foreign guest, a man tall and sardonic and soberly clad, like a mourner at the feast. She herself is resplendent in azure blue silk embroidered with lilies and camellias in thread-of-gold, though her gown is cut modestly to conceal her marque and her dark strawberry-blonde hair is dressed simply and adorned with a single golden lily pin. She has made an effort, patently, not to overshadow the debutante. But nothing can be done about her formidable height, her regal bearing, her curved figure so perfectly proportioned as to do true honour to her canon. She is acquainted, of course, with her cousin by marriage Bertrand nó Glycine, as well as her opposite number who superintends the Bryonys of the salon: with a murmur to her companion, that odd fellow Andrei Anghelescu, she leads him thataway to make introductions and offer all the courtesies appropriate to such an occasion. In fact, she carries it off so smoothly that her escort need hardly say a word but to echo her. And then they look about them to find a congenial table at which to settle.

The Second of the Lis d'Or's arm candy for the evening, one foreign merchant or other, seems quite content to settle where the lady leads, indeed. Anghelescu watches the arrangement and the room with mild interest interspersed with a bit of amusement and quite a bit of puzzlement — whatever is going on here seems to be out of his scope. He nods at a few familiar faces in passing but otherwise seems quite intent on keeping his head down and not attract the attention of Important People. It's all right. They're all looking at Emilie and not him, anyway.

Paris is here too, the freshly fully marqued courtesan attending an event maybe for the first time without needing to serve. The young, almond skinned man is elegant as always in loose white silks, his long black hair combed down to a sheen down his back, his smile warm as he gets to see a feelow house mate join the service of Naamah, even if their canons are not the same. The young man is holding a glass of white wine and grins as he sees Audrialla's confectiosn. "I fear that if I eat any of that, mademoiselle, I will have to double my training efforts for two weeks afterwards." He inclines his head to any of the nobility that pass by.

Zéphyrine slips inside, looking around at all the opulence. Her dress, today, is a loose, flowing gown of deep blue-green watered silk that shifts in the light as she moves, like rippling sea water. Her hair has been bound up with strings of pearls and glittering aquamarines. Laughing delightedly at all the beauty on display, she studies the woman up for bid thoughtfully and then moves on further into the room. Spotting Andrei, she gives him a merry wave.

Marcus slips in queitly, and unescorted the young nobleman hasn't been to many of these types of events since he spends so much of his time abroad. He settles for a spot near the back of the room and edge of the crowd, more as an observer then a participant, his dark features making him stand out a little.

It's been quite a long time since the last time he attended an event such as this. But for now, Maximilein steps in while glancing around the room rather carefully, nodding to those he knows that's present. Gaze going to the novice that is the center of attention, he studies her carefully for a few moments before he moves a bit to the side of the crowd.

Philomène has settled in quite comfortably now and made herself at home on a couch by the ring. The only thing missing is the ubiquitous half bottle of schnapps somewhere by the arm of her seat, but she makes up for it by claiming two goblets of wine. The good lord gave her two hands, after all, and it would be a shame not to use them. Who knows, she might have claimed one for a friend. If she had friends.

Arriving close to being almost exactly on time, Lord Yves Valliers is wearing some of his finer garments. Perhaps his second best outfit. Deep red is accented with white, high on his throat, thick cloth hanging to his waist. Entering the gambling hall, he spends a moment looking toward Ysabelet from afar before going to find a spot to sit, adjusting his waist a little as he walks. Not the least bit comfortable in the finery. Looking around for a moment, he makes his way toward the nearest table with people from Camlach, settling his weight down in a chair and waiting for things to progress as such things progress. He is not the same boy he was a year ago, he has had a year of Marsilikos, debuts, tournaments and other business to bring him around to the local way of acting and thinking.

Audrialla chuckles back at Paris. "Why I heard you have your marque, my dear. And to think your debut was one of my very first illustrious catering jobs. Please, enjoy. You deserve to treat yourself after all your hard work," she says, tempting him with a small tartlet of cranberries and goat cheese. She wears a dress of Helene design, pink with white embroidery, that is simple in comparison to the gowns of the nobles- as it ought to be.

Melpomene is here, with a glass of wine, sitting at just the right angle to make her peridots look very spring-like. Green and charming in a youthful way. She's also fixed a blooming pink flower in her perfectly coifed blonde hair. Otherwise, she looks a little bored as she waits for things to get started.

Scanning the gambling hall with a cautious and practiced eye, Émilie is composing a mental list of those persons present she recognises as Lis d'Or patrons, with the intention of speaking a word or two to each and every one of them before the evening's end. Seconds, alas, don't get nights off. She recognises too the striking older blonde woman limping up the trio of steps from the hall's lower precincts, and by increasing the pressure of her gloved fingertips upon Andrei's arm, gains his attention that she might direct it to Philomène. "Isn't that your friend from the baths?" she murmurs. "She was your friend, wasn't she?"

"Ah, yes." Anghelescu raises a hand in a lazy wave to Philoméne, indicating perhaps that there might be room at their table — or that they might join her at hers. 'They' apparently being himself and a rather high class lady who, to be quite honest, is probably the one whose sleeve he adorns, not the other way around.

A debut is always a grand festivity, and when comes around the season in which the blossoms open it's never a bad idea to put ones best and most fashionably-attired foot forward and make what is very usefully called 'an appearance.' Jehan-Pascal Aumande of Baphinol certainly has a great deal on his plate, at present, but the very fashionable gentleman does take the opportunity of debuting another piece of his new spring wardrobe at an event like this, possibly the most polished of the pieces, a long, rather snug pant, tall, polished boot of dark brown, and a courtly doublet ruched in the back with a clip of silver against the just slightly off-grey of the piece, embroidered just at the lowest portions of the long tails and the sides of the pant legs in a dark wine-red ivy scroll. And with him, of course, Favourite Tremaine, from whom he was more or less inseparable during the games, in a gown of a muted deep red and impeccable make. If they've been seldom apart, it's hard to tell— is it love? Or just a general desire to be seen with one another at the most important of Marsilikos' events? They will follow in the steps of Andrei and his Lis d'Or guide in going to greet and congratulate the Second of Brionies.

It is expected of a debutante to meet the interested glances of the guest with adequate gratification. Ysabelet waits a few moments, her glance going to Bertrand as he exchanges a few words with the Camellia Second of Lis d'Or. Can it be that her features shift into a momentary expression of awe? A respectful lowering of her gaze will occur, should Émilie look her way. Even so, Ysabelet moves into a sitting position, unhurriedly, with that particular grace trained at the Night Court that somehow manages to come off as natural disposition. Her hands make sure that the mantilla doesn't slip too far in the process. As she slowly moves to stand, and the white lace shifts from the change in her pose. One could think her to be the perfect picture of modesty, as she stands there with her gaze lowered. And yet this is no Alyssum, as the slightly mischievous smile betrays, when Ysabelet looks up. Oddly enough, it won't be the dowayne who raises his voice, nor is it the Bryony Second. "Welcome to La Glycine," Ysabelet greets the guests. "I am flattered to see so many have come to attend this fête that is being held for my debut. My name is Ysabelet nó Glycine, and I want to challenge you for a game. Each of you, if you will. But you will have to draw cards who is to face me first in a match of gamble…" She holds up a deck of cards. "Those daring to meet the challenge… step forth."

Paris laughs a little, picking up the tartelette with long fingers and taking in a small bite. "Mhhm, delicious as ever.. maybe I shall have to hold one of my soirees with your delicious confections, after all, us in Jasmine, we favor pleasure above anything else, and these cakes are pleasure given edible form. Mhhmm, maybe some kind of Tiberian banquet style…gorging ourselves..and well.." He winks, "but i do apologize, i was lost in thought, thank you for coming, and hope you are doing well." he tells Audrialla, before he notices Jehan-Pascal wallking in, and giving the nobleman a friendly wave. Just then Ysabelet speaks and he turns silent, giving the debutante the proper attention.

Philomène lifts her chin towards Andrei, raising a brow and giving a pointed look towards Emilie before settling her gaze back on the man. She helps herself to the back of a seat close by, remaining standing for now rather than risk the effort of sitting down so soon after the effort of stairs. Despite apparently being here for the debut, the poor Ysabelet doesn't even get a glance.

Émilie notes some of this byplay between Philomène and Andrei, but doesn't quite understand it yet— still, the lady being her patron's friend, she shifts in her chair (her posture having been previously oriented in half a dozen subtle ways toward Andrei himself) and murmurs, "Lady Philomène, good evening." A nod toward Ysabelet and her deck of cards. "Do you intend to play?" she wonders. "Or will you help me to persuade Monsieur Anghelescu to try his luck?"

Zéphyrine gives Philomene a little wave as well, then looks up at the announcement from Ysabelet. She laughs and shifts a little closer to the debutante and her deck of cards, looking interested in the game, at least.

"My dear, I am here to watch a foreign custom which is quite new to me. Not to ruin the life of a seventeen-year-old." Anghelescu chuckles quietly leans back in his seat to watch the proceedings.

Audrialla pouts at the mention of ruining the debutant. But she's there to provide food, not commentary. She waves as Paris departs and then turns her green gaze to the golden beauty and her cards. She's always more interested in observation, and besides, what would a pastry chef be doing bidding on this?

From the sofa next to the chair presently supporting Philomène de Chalasse, Melpomene chimes in, "Oh, I do love a good card game! Perhaps my luck will hold out this time!"

"I intend to drink heavily and act as though I'm somehow morally superior to everyone, same as I ever do," Philomene admits drily, glancing aside to her peridot bedecked companion for the evening. "I mean, just end the evening with a punch up and it could be any day ending in a Y. But, no, one ought to make the effort. I'll lay money on whatever Lady Melpomene doesn't."

Maximilien smiles as he listens to Ysabelet's words. Waiting a few moments longer, before he speaks. "A game of chance does sound quite interesting," he offers, stepping forth after his words.

Jehan-Pascal and Favourite leave the Dowayne and Second with their congratulations, all smiles and good-nature, and move on to let the next do the same. Jehan-Pascal spots Paris, even 'off the clock,' as it were, and is bckoning him closer to introduce him to the Lady at his side when the Debutante herself speaks up and makes him prick up his ears. Unusual— and admirable, if Jehan-Pascal's expression is to be read at face value (no pun intended). He regards the confident debutante with a tip of his chin, then looks to Favourite, sharing a few moments of discussion with her.

Émilie beckons to a passing adept and secures two glasses of white wine; she confides one into her patron's keeping and sets the other upon the table while she peels off her gloves, which of course is a minor artistic performance in its own right. "Merely to play, doesn't oblige one to bid," she comments softly to Andrei, in her rôle as his native guide to this social jungle. Then, to Lady Melpomene: "I don't believe we've been introduced, have we? How do you do? I'm Émilie Perigeux nó Lis d'Or," she explains pleasantly, as the second glove comes off and she lays them together limp and white across her glittering lap. At last, she may join Philomène in steady inebriation— and believe you me, she does.

Paris takes another bite from his tarte, giving a sigh of deight, and trying to look elegant while wiping crumbs off his chin, not the most dignified act, as he winks at Audri, then he catches JP's wave and makes his way on his bare feet through the room to meet the young nobleman and his companion, keeping an eye on the games.

"Oh, aren't you lovely," Melpomene offers pleasantly to Emilie with a delighted smile. "Lady Melpomene Bretel d'Eresse. I just love these sorts of events. You meet the nicest people. And the debutante always seems so very excited, hmm?"

There must be some private joke somewhere. At least the blond gentleman accompanying Emilie seems quite amused, blue eyes glittering with the laughter that he does not let out. Perhaps he's just very easily impressed.

"I'd bid on your behalf, Monsieur Anghelescu," Philomene threatens idly, finally making her way round to actually sitting down, with all the usual stiffness and clamping of her jaw this involves. Once seated, she drains her first goblet of wine in a couple of long gulps, then sets it down on the arm of her seat and moves on to the next. "But it seems rather rude as I see you've found yourself a companion for the evening after all."

"I am merely curious as to this custom and fortunate enough that the lady offered to let me accompany her," Anghelescu murmurs mildly in response. "This is a very curious custom. I have never seen anything like it in my homeland."

"Oh, thank you, my lady… The nicest people — yes, one does," agrees Émilie, parroting Melpomene with every appearance of sincerity in her warm brown eyes. (That's the wine.) "And this is Monsieur Anghelescu, who is visiting us from the Chowat." She indicates the gentleman on her other side. "He takes a great interest in our d'Angeline customs and I thought he ought to attend a debut just once during his stay. It's such an occasion in a young person's life… It does make one look back, doesn't it?" But after another sip from her glass she spares Melpomene the need to relate any personal recollections that might spring to mind, by turning to the other. "I'm glad to meet you again, Lady Philomène. I well remember your skill at aquatic disputation," she says pleasantly.

"Can it be that our guests are unusually timid?", Ysabelet wonders. She holds up the deck of cards in one hand, as the fingers of the other brushes over the brooch that keeps the mantilla in place. "Just a little game, and the winner can determine the arena in which they will compete against me. Dice. Cards. Kottabos…" She gestures towards the Kottabos stand, her expression slightly amused.

Zéphyrine glances around, waiting to see if someone else will go first. She shrugs, causing the fabric of her dress to ripple like waves in a light breeze and laughs. "Just draw a card, yes? For this first part?"

Jehan-Pascal removes one hand from where it's nestled over Favourite's, reaching out to touch Paris on the shoulder as he comes up to them, greeting him with a big grin. He does spot at least a couple of interested parties out there, so he will let the debutante tempt them instead of stepping in himself, instead keeping his voice low and making an introduction. "Paris, have you met the Lady Favourite Tremaine?" he murmurs, not to make a din over the presentation in the works. "Favourite," oh, look, they're on a first-name basis, now. "This is Monsieur Paris, of this house. A very charming young man, and just completed of his marque." A glance jots to Zephyrine and he smiles enouragingly.

Paris beams brightly as he reaches in to kiss JP on the cheek. "A pleasure to see you again, milord. And a pleasure to meet your friend." He takes Favourite's hand and leans in to place a soft kiss on the back of her fingers. "Paris no Glycine, at your service. I hope you are enjoying the show so far…and you ought to have some of these cakes, they are divine."

"You would like to draw a card?" Ysabelet seems to have caught Zephyrine's remark, and with a smile she glides over to the lady. "The rules are easy. If you draw the Queen of Hearts, you may challenge me for a game. Otherwise… if there are other takers, the highest card will win."

Stepping the rest of the way forward, Maximilen offers a smile. "After you," he offers to Zephyrine, before he smiles to Ysabelet. "I will draw one too," he offers, a bit lightly.

When it is her turn, Melpomene draws a card from the deck and peers at it curiously, looking to the rest of the room. She leans over to show Philomene her card helpfully.

Zéphyrine pulls a card and peeks at it, then pouts, stepping aside so others may draw as well.

Stepping up when the game is explained, Yves draws a card and glances at it. "Hearts, you said?" he questions and then stands there with his card, not sure what he's supposed to do with it now.

Marcus steps up, looking intrigued and also moves to take a card, examining it closely but holding it close to his chest once drawn.

Jehan-Pascal returns the kiss quite casually to Paris' opposite cheek, and Favourite moves to dip her chin into a sweet nod of greeting and face Paris directly. "Monsieur Paris, yes," she recognizes the name, perhaps, from Jehan-Pascal having spoken of him. "How good to meet you," she gives him her hand to kiss, "Your salon is exquisite, and the celebration so cheerful. I would love to try a cake; will you escort me? Jehan-Pascal, why don't you go and get a card?" she suggests with a playful smile. "It might be fun." "Alright," Jehan-Pascal will leave Favourite in Paris' capable hands and go step up to join in— at least this preliminary game, which seems to require little in the way of gaming expertise.

Philomène leans over to eye Melpomene's card, shrugs once and takes another long draught from her drink. "I'm just going to assume you haven't won?"

Maximilien lets out a brief breath as he looks to the card he drew. Stepping back a little to let other draw their cards too.

"And now, please, I ask you to show me your cards? Do we have anyone who drew the Queen of Hearts?", Ysabelet asks, letting her gaze drift. "Or does anyone else wnat to try their luck?"

Yves reveals the following cards:

  • Queen of Diamonds

Zephyrine reveals the following cards:

  • King of Clubs

Melpomene reveals the following cards:

  • Jack of Diamonds

Zéphyrine shakes her head and turn her card to show to face value. Still she's smiling and laughing and she looks around to see who has had better luck than she has.

"Queen of Diamonds," Yves answers and shows the card, so close but so far. He extends the card with a pair of fingers and steps away once he spots that at least one person has had a higher card than he did, so he moves away.

Audrialla hears someone say cake. There are indeed tiny cakes on the tasting table. She perks and looks away from the card draw to Favourite as she smiles.

Maximilien reveals the following cards:

  • Queen of Clubs

Maximilien shakes his head, turning his card around slowly to reveal the Queen of Clubs. "So close, yet so far away, right?" he replies, with a bit of a smile.

Favourite is dallying by the cakes, distracted somewhat by the comparison of cards at the fore, but turning to Audrialla with a cheerful smile before she lowers her eyes to the assortment of delicacies. "Look at these coins… how artful," she breathes out the words, whether for Audrialla, or Paris, or both.

Jehan-Pascal meanwhile taps the card he'd chosen a few times against the wine-colored ivy detail at the side of his trouser just below his hip before he flips it in his fingers and holds it up.

Jehan-Pascal reveals the following cards:

  • Ace of Clubs

Ysabelet reveals the following cards:

  • King of Hearts

"If I'm entirely honest with you," Philomene notes aside to Emilie, "you might have to narrow it down a little more. Did I manage to insult you in the baths? I'm assuming the baths, I'm no swimmer. Do you have any idea what's going on?" she adds with a slightly bemused glance towards the various card brandishing people.

"No Queen of Hearts?" Ysabelet repeats, with an amused look in her eyes. She draws a card herself from the deck and considers it, "Ah, the King of Hearts. How fitting. As there is no Queen of Hearts, she must still be in the deck. And therefore, the highest card wins. The Ace beats the Kings and Queens and Jacks. Lord Jehan-Pascal de Baphinol. May I ask you to step forth an challenge me? Which game would you like to do? Cards? Dice? Kottabos? Or something else entirely?"

"No, I have no idea, but I'm playing with cards, of course," Melpomene notes cheerfully to her companions. "I sadly have lost."

Marcus reveals the following cards:

  • Jack of Spades

Zéphyrine laughs as the ace is revealed, topping her king, and turns in her card, stepping back to watch what challenge will be posed.

Marcus does show his, highly apprroriate card obviously not the highest of them, and bows in Ysablet's direction as he returns to his spot toward the back.

Maximilien hands over his card, stepping back as well. Looking to see what kind of game that will be chosen.

By now Émilie is on her second goblet of wine, and thus just about capable of listening with one ear to Philomène and with the other to Ysabelet and her game. "No, my lady," she murmurs absently, her tongue less guarded than usual amidst so many distractions, "but you did insult a patron of my salon, and so I had to try to pour oil on the troubled waters of the temple baths… You understand. The highest card," she explains, speaking still to Philomène though her eyes are focused upon something farther away, "gains the privilege of the debutante's next game. I imagine she'll play several more rounds of the same kind to gain closer acquaintance with the luckiest and most sporting of her admirers." Then she inclines her elegant head the other way, to smile and murmur to Anghelescu.

Audrialla curtsies at the compliment, whether or not it's to her it's praise all the same. "They're layered with a bit of crunchy wafer in the middle," she says of the coins. "I wanted them a bit… of a snap."

"Of course," Jehan-Pascal answers Ysabelet kindly, stepping back toward the deck and resting the ace somewhat cattywompus upon the top of the deck before he nudges it with a knuckle to straighten it out again, looking up from it with a warm smile. "And may I offer you my congratulations on your debut, Mademoiselle Ysabelet?" he offers up, rather more personably at those close quarters. "A beautifully presented night and a beautifully poised debutante," he goes on, before, with a mild clearing of his throat, he considers the games. "Well, I'm not at all dressed for Kottabos," he jokes a little. "And if the cards have shown me favor so far tonight, I'm not very clever with them on the whole. Dice, then," he decides.

Ysabelet inclines her head. "Very well. Would you come over here to this table? What shall we play? That game called Liar's Dice? Are you familiar with its rules?"

"He was probably being a twat," Philomene opines bluntly, swirling her wine in its goblet before taking another sip. "There's a lot of it going around. I'm fortunate enough to be in a position where I can call it where I see it, whereas you have the reputation of your salon to uphold. If Anghelescu's being a twat, let me know and I'll wallop him for you. It's the least I can do for you having to put up with him for the night."

Favourite can't help but be amused by the ace Jehan-Pascal flashes to the room, but she will leave him to his gaming and take up one of those gilt cocoa wafers and a napkin on which to hold it and experimentally break it in half. "Tremendous," she tells the baker, "It's so delicate, yet purports otherwise." A half is set upon her tongue and taken in.

Jehan-Pascal, meanwhile, follows along readily enough. "Ah—" he laughs a little. "I'll leave it to an expert," he grins, meaning her, of curse, "Catch me up only very quickly on the rules. I'm sure I can follow along."

The timing seems a bit odd. Even so, there is a clearing of a masculine throat over to the side. "My lords, my ladies. As is the custom with debuts, you are encouraged to pass on a note to me, in case you are meaning to make a bid on the debutante. You can do so throughout the evening, and also repeatedly if you wish to. We value discretion," his smile broadens as he looks a bit pointedly perhaps in the direction of the Lis d'Or Second. "Rest assured that we will handle this in the manner expected of a salon of our prestige and popularity."

"Very well, my lord." Ysabelet acknowledges Jehan-Pascal's request with a graceful hint of a curtsey. "This game is about getting a better roll than your opponent — or bluffing your way out of it. Two dice will be rolled and covered. Doubles outrank other pairs. And if there are no doubles, the higher roll wins, with the higher dice always being counted as the first and the lower as the second." She rolls two dice uncovered for demonstration. "Look here. A 5 and a 2. This will be 5-2 as result. It would beat a 5-1 but would be beaten by a 5-3 or higher." She raises a brow. "Do you want me to go first?"

Perhaps it's fortunate that the gentleman under discussion is seated at Émilie's other side and occupied enough by the peacocking of his fellow guests about Ysabelet that he misses some or all of Philomène's remarks. Émilie herself falls silent and attends when Bertrand nó Glycine lifts his voice to command the chamber; seeing his gaze come to rest briefly upon herself she files that away to be considered later. Then she leans toward Philomène with a slight satisfied smile, and a remark she brought with her pre-prepared, gracing her lips. "Oh, on the contrary, my lady," she murmurs. "Your friend is adept in fulfilling my most cherished phantasies… But I must not," she raises an eyebrow, "be too indiscreet."

Jehan-Pascal isn't much of a gambler, in any case, but he's got a keen enough mind and the rules aren't as complicated as all of that. He's keen enough to spot that the brunt of the need for skill here (at least at the outset) rests on the shoulders of he who rolls second, at any rate — the one who would need to lie, should his or her roll fail to impress. So, "No, I think I'd rather roll first, if that's all well with you," he sort of laughs, when she offers him his choice, and he sort of scoops the dice into one of the leathern cups, covering the opening with his palm and giving them a rattle before setting it down on the table. At least he must have seen people playing this game.

Jehan-Pascal rolls the dice, keeping them covered.
Jehan-Pascal says, "Fifty-one."

Ysabelet rolls the dice, keeping them covered.

"Mm, I'm going to assume your fantasies are minimal, then," Philomene notes, although she does lean forward a little to flick an enquiring smile in the direction of her foreign friend. "You ought to sneak a bid in for him while he's not paying attention," she suggests next, this quiet enough not to be overheard. "Here, I've shown my face and offered the girl my support. There's a warm bed and good whisky waiting for me at home, which I find far more enticing than a girl younger than my daughters, but if you do put in a bid for him, I'll put money towards it. Just to see his face."

"I believe you," Ysabelet, tells Jehan-Pascal, now seated by the dice table, fingers brushing over the white lace of the mantilla as if to make sure it does not slip. "It is my turn then." And with her smile deepening, the Glycine debutante considers her own roll, keeping the dice covered. "Thirty-three. Which means, you lose."

Zéphyrine drifts over to collect some food before she moves to watch the dice game, looking back and forth, trying to decide for herself who is lying or not.

Her blue eyes sparkle a little as she looks up at Jehan-Pascal. "Do you call me out on a bluff?", Ysabelet wonders.

Maximilien watches the game in quiet as he sips his drink, glancing over at the other groups every now and then. Mostly being entertained by the game so far.

Audrialla is dividing her attention between those enjoying her treats and the competition. Mostly? She watches the game. After all, what else does one do in this House?

"You should," Jehan-Pascal grins back at Ysabelet when she speaks of her trust of him. But does he trust her and that blue sparkle? "Well…" Oh, no. That sounded kind of professorial. Jehan-Pascal is just going to stand up here and let his inner nerd have free use of his rather charming orator's voice. "My roll isn't much to write home about, but if I were to roll again to try to top your double threes… I'd only have three possible combinations to win the day," he lays a finger aside his nose in a thoughtful posture, "There are only five or six rolls lower than mine… but that's double the chance of my beating double threes, so… I suppose the wise thing would be to call it a bluff, though I certainly have no reason to think you're lying— I mean, aside from the fact that it's called 'liar's dice.'" Thus having prattled on, he laughs at himself, "Alright, I'll call 'bluff.'"

Ysabelet lifts the cup from the dice.
The first die shows three daggers. The second die shows three daggers.

Émilie's warm brown eyes linger on Philomène's face as she takes another sip of her wine. (On the bridge of her nose, specifically, but let's not quibble.) "Oh, quite arcane, I assure you," she murmurs. "… But, my lady," she chides softly then, "how can you ask me to cede Monsieur Anghelescu to another woman tonight—?" She presses a hand to the richness of her azure blue bosom; it's hard to say whether the affectation is in jest. "I could hardly countenance such a risk. No, I think I had better keep him," she teases, "but I shall not presume to keep you from the companionship most to your own taste. Good evening, my lady."

"You flatter me, my lord," Ysabelet replies to Jehan-Pascal with a smile. "I would have tried to fool you, but not this time." She looks towards the other guests. "Was there any of you who had another Ace earlier? Or a King of Clubs?"

Zéphyrine laughs at the interplay in the game and then raises her hand. "I had a king, yes. Are we going by our original draw order instead of drawing again?"

"Come over and try your luck, my lady," Bertrand nó Glycine encourages Zephyrine. "Which game would you like to play with Ysabelet? The dice?" A bit earlier, he had received a written note that had been conveyed by an adept. The dowayne looks to be in good spirits.

Jehan-Pascal leans in a little to see the dice, then grins at the debutante. "It was a pleasure to cast dice with you, Mademoiselle," he tells her, rising, and stepping down, letting Zephyrine tag in with a jaunty smile to her on his way past.

Zéphyrine looks around and then laughs again, sipping from the glass of wine she acquired in there along with the food. "I'm thinking… Actually, something with a little more skill. I think I'll choose Kottabos." She sets her plate of food on a table and drinks a bit more of the wine, studying her glass. "Still a little too much wine."

"The pleasure was all mine," the young debutante assures Jehan-Pascal. "Perhaps, you will seek me out for further games later?" It may be a bold remark made towards the heir to the Comté de Baphinol, but the sweet smile that accompanies the words make it sound almost like an innocent suggestion. But there is Zephyrine, and Ysabelet rises. "Kottabos, indeed. We need wine in our cups, don't you think?" And there, a cup finds its way into her hand and another one is offered to Zephyrine. "You know the game, I suppose? Will you go first? Or shall I? Shall we count the tosses it takes to push the plastinx off the spire, or shall we merely compare the skill of one single toss?"

Zéphyrine thinks as she swirls the wine in her glass, though she accepts the second one. "I do know the game, yes. And… I think number of tosses. That is a better test of skill. Though, I suppose we are in a house devoted to luck, as well." Still she grins, eyes sparkling and moves towards the Kottabos set.

Zephyrine carefully replaces the silver plastinx on the top of the Kottabos stand's spire.

Roll: (8 4 8 6 6 8 2 7)

Zephyrine readies herself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on her finger. After a moment, she lets the lees go…

Hit! The disc didn't have much further to go, but Zephyrine's toss was enough to push it over the edge. It lands in the crater below with a loud 'PLINK'!

Maximilien has turned to watch this current game rather carefully. He takes another sip from his drink, while still keeping his eyes on the game for now.

It is an old Hellene drinking game, and one that is still in fashion in Marsilikos. Ysabelet follows along, as Zephyrine approaches the Kottabos stand, with the fingers of her right hand curling about the cup. White lace may be a tricky choice of color, especially as it must be prone to wine stains. Even so, the Glycine debutante takes a good sip from the cup and then begins to swirl the remaining content almost absently as she watches the Rousse lady make quite the skilled toss that manages to push the plastinx into the crater. "Well done," she allows, waiting for Zephyrine to step aside, before she approaches the stand herself to replace the plastinx on the spire at the top.

Ysabelet carefully replaces the silver plastinx on the top of the Kottabos stand's spire.

Jehan-Pascal gives the debutante a slip of a nod but is moving along to let her get to know other potential patrons. He browses along between the game tables, looking back to the game of kottabos and stepping along almost without watching where he's heading— almost. Not inattentive enough to walk into anyone or anything, just keeping at a slow amble.

Zéphyrine laughs delightedly as her first shot succeeds, then steps graciously aside to allow Ysabelet to reset the plastinx and take her throw. She sparkles and gives a little grin to the others watching, then turns her attention back to see how well Ysabelet does.

Some of the guests that are watching applaud when Zephyrine makes her toss. Bertrand meanwhile receives another scribbled note, which he cheeks discreetly.

Roll: (6 2 7 1 2 5 4 1 6 1 8 5)

Ysabelet readies herself and begins to spin the cup by its handle on her finger. After a moment, she lets the lees go…

A hit! The lees fly through the air and strike the plastinx solidly, but it only teeters on the edge of the spire rather than falling off.

Perhaps her fingers lack the ease in spinning the cup by its handle, an ease that usually comes with practice. Can one be certain, whether it is lack of skill or perhaps hidden intention that caused the plastinx to not quite make it into the crater? Ysabelet raises her brows, looking disappointed at her comparatively poor performance. A nod then, and a curtsey towards the Rousse lady, as she acknowledges, "It seems you have won, my lady."

"And as our debutante is bested in an arena she should excel in," Bertrand nó Glycine cuts in, "she's to offer the winner a prize. My lady… if you would be so kind as to assist Ysabelet with discarding that fine white lace mantilla you may keep as a trophy?" The dowayne looks pleased and a little amused.

Zéphyrine grins at Ysabelet. "I have… and I have completely forgotten what the assigned forfeit was to b…" And then Bertrand is informing her of the prize and she blushes. "Oh… Yes. Of course." Stepping behind Ysabelet, she moves to take the mantilla and then steps back, draping the white lace over her arm even as she looks at what was revealed beneath.

Ysabelet reaches already to unfasten the brooch. Then a few hair needles neet to be removed to allow that Aragonian garment to fall away and reveal her head fully. And then her shoulders and arms, that are bare, but showing that same golden sheen. Around the arms she even wears golden bangles. As for the rest of her form, it is somewhat clad, and in a playful manner that fits the theme. White silk squares with black dots to symbolize dice cover her shape in vital areas. But apart from that, skin is revealed, at her sides, and in her long legs. Can a Glycine blush? This one at least has a comely rosiness cling to her cheeks. "Thank you, my lady," she grins as she steps aside and returns to her initial spot, the chaise longue, upon which she now settles upon as tempting decoration.

The white lace mantilla, unless dropped to the floor, will remain in the hands of Zephyrine Rousse.

"I want to remind everyone who intends to place a bid and hasn't yet done so… We have adepts making their rounds, with parchment and quill," the dowayne of the salon notes gently. "There have already been some so far. Maybe you'd like to enjoy some more of the croquembouche or the other delicicacies over there, or some more wine. Take your time as you make up your mind." He looks from the guests over to Ysabelet, with a lop-sided grin.

Audrialla beams as her lovely tower of cream-puffs is mentioned, and starts picking it apart to plate for those wishing to partake. The more important guests are given the gold-topped pieces, the gold thin and entirely edible.

Zéphyrine considers the mantilla in her arms and then the skin revealed by it, then flashes Bertrand a dimpled smile. "Are we allowed to know the current high bid while we contemplate the question? Or would that be cheating?"

Maximilien smiles as he look back to Ysabelet, studying her for a few moments again, before he glances first to Zephyrine, then Bertrand, waiting to hear the answer of the lady's question.

"17,000 ducats," the dowayne of the salon de la Glycine responds to Zéphyrine Rousse, and in catching that glance from Maximilien, he offers the man a nod.

The debutante lounges on the chaise-longue, one elbow propped up, and a hand resting on the bare skin of the side of her thigh. She includes all of the guests into her sweeping glance. And while it is obvious that she may be slightly nervous from the way she nibbles on her bottom lip, Ysabelet appears outwardly composed and even delighted with the suspense that lingers currently in the room.

Zéphyrine nods and considers, her eyes trailing over the debutante. Then she smiles brightly again. "Thank you. I will consider my current fortunes." And then she heads back off to collect some more of those little puff pastries.

Jehan-Pascal is heading back in that direction as well, just slowly, having watched the game. "It was a good throw," he tells Zephyrine, then, finding Favourite there by the cakes, he reaches out a hand to tangle his fingers up in hers, looking back to Zephyrine's prize. "I think I see the real game, now. Will enough of us have the good fortune to leave the debutante stitchless?" he chuckles, and looks to snag a puff of his own.

Zéphyrine smiles at Jehan-Pascal and then looks down at the mantilla on her arm and laughs. "I think this may be the only article of clothing they'll let us remove until someone wins the bid, but I could be wrong. And thank you for your compliment." She glances back towards the kattabos set and whispers. "I was rather surprised, myself, but… the lees just flew right that time. Normally, I'm not quite ''that'' adept."

Maximilien nods in return to the dowayne, before he takes a sip from his drink as he hears the bid, listening a little thoughtfully.

"Sometimes they do that," Jehan-Pascal laughs. "More often, as least for me, they end up spattering on my own person," whether being simply self-deprecating or actually helpless at it, who knows? It occurs to him, suddenly, that this person is slightly unfamiliar. "Jehan-Pascal Baphinol," he introduces himself, tipping up the puff pastry by way of greeting. "And this is my fiancee, the Lady Favourite Tremaine no Heliotrope," who dips gracefully in turn with a big smile for Zephyrine, and takes over conversation while Jehan-Pascal manages the mouthful of pastry: "What a fine souvenir you'll bring home. Are you thinking of putting in a bid?"

Zéphyrine gives Jehan-Pascal a bright smile and tiny curtsey. "Zephyrine Rousse. And I am thinking about it. It's tempting, even if I really have other things on which I should be spending my money." She looks down at the white lace and nods. "It will be a fun remembrance." There's a glance over her shoulder and then she shakes her head. "No, no, very tempting, but I think I had best not."

Bertrand waits for a few more moments, and then his dark eyes alight and he smiles. "I see there are no more bids forthcoming. Very well. We have a winner of the debut. Unfortunately, our Ysabelet is to withdraw now, but feel free to enjoy our hospitality for a little while longer." It takes a glance towards Ysabelet and a lift of his chin, and the Glycine debutante moves to stand. "All of you, have a good evening.", she offers, before she turns to leave in the company of Brigitte, the courtesan who used to look after her in her time of being a novice. An era that is about to end, very soon.

And a card will find its way into the hand of one of the guests, handed over discreetly by a Glycine courtesan. A gambling card, the Queen of Hearts.

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