(1312-06-12) Until the Rain
Summary: The crossroads of four young people at different positions in life, all in the gardens. At least until it rains.
RL Date: 2020-06-12
Related: None.
alienor marguerite zephyrine raimbaut 

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.

The Roses White are moving house; if they're only moving next door, it's all a bit of upheaval for a novice for whom the Salon of the Wild Roses has been as much as his only home. The longer he's out with his veiled minder, the more anxiety gnaws at his heart— when he returns home, what new thing will be moved, what progress on packing will have been made? You really can't go home again, it turns out.

And meanwhile, there is his own personal future to consider. The move has disrupted his plans to debut, but most of the White Rose rank and file find it a fine idea to move it back. It's not easy for a muted rose to make a name for himself, and the shy boy really must be turned out of doors more often. It used to be Alienor, of coruse, who would drag him along with her on adventures. Now, this evening's outing matches his mood; somewhat melancholy, as the flowers are beginning to hide themselves away at the end of the day and in the fading light. Raimbaut is beautifully appointed, his cheaks dewy with a sheen opalescent powder, his hair's ringlets formed distinctly in rose-scented unguent, and he hugs one arm around his stomach, lifting the other long, loose armsleeve to the branch of a tree, letting his fingertips poke out to touch the shy furl of a petal in solidarity. Even as young as he looks, he might be in the middle of a growth spurt; he has the beginnings of a finely formed young man about him, though between his wide-legged, flowing white trousers and the long white tunic that swaddles him down to the knee, it's only vaguely clear from the shape of his shoulders and his youthful, coltish height.

There's a scurry and a rustle and a White Rose girl comes into the gardens in a hurry, followed by an annoyed looking chaperone and a pair of guards in Rose Sauvage livery. She goes skipping across a path, hurtling towards Raimbaut in a flurry of loose, summery white fabric, her voluminous dress hardly showing off her figure at all.

"You're here! They said you were here, and I thought I'd come find you," Alienor says in a rush when she sees Raimbaut, grinning at him in delight. "Why are you so droopy? Is it the weather? I think it's going to start raining at any moment. The sky's been overcast one moment and clear the next." And there's a breeze that swirls her dress about her legs, demure but lovely.

It had been a long day of unapacking and entertaining an unexpected visitor who turned out to be family, thus the young woman who recently arrived in the city had made the decision that she wanted to get some air and see said city. Rather than wait until the following morning, she had mustered up a paired escort of Chalasse guards and on a tip of things that must be seen, requested they walk her to the Jardins d'Eisheth. There is one thing they had learned about the Duc of Chalasse's only daughter: When she wants to do something, you best not argue and it is in your best interest to simply do it.

As they enter the gardens, the soft voiced Lady can be heard. "Must you walk so close Gerrard. You are all but smothering me. I know it is your job to see to my well-being, but might I be so bold to suggest you do it a few feet that way." Her hand extends to gesture to a spot a bit away from her. "There much better. See…I am still safe." The other guard give his companion a roll of his eyes as they continue to walk on, checking his own proximity.

Carefully guided steps and proper posture take the young woman further into the gardens, a small umbrella held above her head, seemingly matching the dress she is wearing. Her eyes fall upon the young girl and young man, pausing in her step and taking a small breath. "Oh apparently these gardens are a popular place for the locals."

Zéphyrine is out for a stroll this evening in a walking dress - relatively plain, just a little embroidery, but well-made and a lovely deep green and a light cloak thrown over it. She has a guard trailing her, of course, but she's smiling and looking at the vista and the trees. Which is how she spots Raimbaut, first, and then Alienor. She gives Alienor a smile and a little wave before turning her bright-eyed attention on Raimbaut. The comment from Marguerite draws a bright laugh. "Indeed, they are one of the jewels of Marsilikos, famed the world over. Also, they give such a lovely view of the harbor, don't you think?"

Raimbaut is here! Indeed! And now Alie is here, too. Raimbaut lifts his hand to a small branch of the tree he'd been just touching along the underside of a flower, before, nudging it downward to hide his face from her, then dipping down to peek underneath with a smile, if a somewhat wistful one. A wary glimpse to the sky at the warming of rain, and he dips in against the trunk of the tree to use its boughs as a sort od umbrella, should it come to it. And soon, there are more, incoming, and, in a scurry, he darts about Alienor and behind the tree, lest they see him— then peeks out with one wide, honey-colored, long-lashed eye, and a creamy cheek, and a look of shy wonder. Very helpfully, he reaches for Alie, tugging gingerly upon her skirts to coax her to hide alongside of him.

And now it is a game for Alienor, moving to hide where Raimbaut wishes her to be, although the staring chaperones looking disgruntled at their charges may give away their position, all things considered. She giggles, not at all trying to be stealthy, and she is, for the first time in awhile, in a fairly cheerful mood. She offers Zephyrine a bright little wave as she goes to hide with Raimbaut behind the tree, even if the tree is not really big enough to conceal two people both dressed in bright white.

<FS3> Raimbaut rolls Subterfuge: Good Success. (5 8 8 6 3 3 8 6 5 5)

<FS3> Alienor rolls Stealth: Good Success. (7 2 8 5 2 6 1 1)

Was she just spoken to? With a few blinks of apparent disbelief she maintains that ever present smile that so often is feigned. "Yes. Yes indeed. The view is most lovely. I had only heard of its beauty, but words do little to fully capture what the eyes must see." Marguerite slowly begins to make her way towards the others, her steps continue to follow those of apparent well-thought grace. The guards move to follow her and sensing them doing so, she holds her hand up in the air silently and they simply stop where they are. Apparently, they have figured out her non-verbal communication.

The commotion over by the tree draw her attention and she sighs softly, murmuring ot herself. "Oh wonderful. Apparently I have stumbled upon a game of hide and seek. Well, one can only wish that they are not sought. Which could mean that there is yet another somewhere counting and no doubt will be dashing about the Jardins frantically searching behind every tree and then the giggling will ensie before it starts all over again."

She turns her attention back to Zeph. "Does this sort of thing go on here..nightly?"

<FS3> Zephyrine rolls Perception: Good Success. (8 8 2 2 2 5 7 1)

<FS3> Marguerite rolls Perception: Good Success. (8 1 2 7 6 1 8 3)

Zéphyrine watches the 'hiding' and the hiding with an amused snort and then blinks at Marquerite and just laughs. "What? No… they're white roses. From Rose Sauvage. Being demure is part of their canon. I doubt there's anyone counting or seeking. And if there were, the chaperones would rather give them away, don't you think? The one behind the tree is Alienor. She's rather sweet. She paints. I haven't met the other one." She glances over the harbor and sighs a little whistfully then looks back towards the tree and the courtesans there before turning and studying Marguerite. "Are you recently arrived in town? You look vaguely familiar, but I don't think I've seen you recently. And it's always possible I'm confusing you with someone else."

Raimbaut gets jostled from his spot a little further when Alienor does so well getting as a matter of fact behind the tree, and when he himself endeavors to reverse course, he finds that there simply isn't enough tree for the both of them, and must resort to hising his facr against it with his forearm resting against the bark and his sleeve over his face. And if Marguerite misconstrues his playfulness, Zephyrine, at least, can act as his interpreter— a wonderous skill which draws a flutter of a smile from him, a shy skirting of his eyes toward her and a timid wiggle of his fingers in greeting when she declares him an unknown. The average novice would introduce himself around now, but a blush has stolen upon his cheeks and he seems to be too shy to say anything… or do anything aside from hide his face back against the trunk once more.

"You are caught," Alienor says plainly to Raimbaut, laughing softly as their position is commented upon. "We would do better hiding in the snow. Come, let us go say hello. Politely. It would be polite, wouldn't it?" She tugs him gently by the sleeve as she slips out from behind the tree and offers a curtsey to the two ladies. Her face is veiled, and her hair is tied back, and her dress is formless and does a rather good job of concealing her figure, but she doesn't really stand out as a courtesan very well.

For the moment, Marguerite chooses to focus her attention on the woman who is not "hiding" and has addressed her, tho her focus is broken with the ocxasiobal eye shift towards the pair of White Roses. "White Roses. Of course. That would explain…" She trails off leaving one to wonder if she truly does really understand the justification for their actions.

Her posture is checked one more and with a small incline of her head she replies. "Yes. I recently arrived only yesterday. My length of stay completely contingent upon my father's wishes. It has been quite some time since my last visit to the city. I barely recall it myself. I do not think I ever left the Chalasse Residence before departing back to Clermont." The smile is maintained as she offers her name. "Perhaps my name may clear up any confusion to if we have met before. Lady Marguerite Adele de Chalasse. Duc Vincent is my father. Whether we have met before is of little consequence now, for we have now become acquainted have we not?"

The actions of Raimbaut certainly pulls her attention to him once more, raising a brow and looking back to Zephyrine. "Is he alright? Are their plants in this garden he may have eaten that he should not have?" When Alienor makes herself known, her blue eyes slide to her and half-curtsey is returned. "That one seems more…sober."

Zéphyrine smiles brightly. "Ahh, I think you're a cousin, then. Somekind of a cousin, anyway. I'd have to go look up exactly how we're related. I actually haven't been in town very long, either. Zephyrine Rousse. Baronne de Filitosa, if we're being particularly formal." She turns a smile on the approaching Alienor. "It's lovely to run into you again. How have you been?" And then her gaze flickers further on to Raimbaut and the corner of her smile ticks up another little bit. "I believe he may still be a novice. I believe Alienor is an adept." She pauses a moment and studies Marguerite. "Are you familiar with the local night court houses?"

Raimbaut doesn't know whether to be faux-panicked or actually-panicked when Alienor draws him out to say hello. Either way, there's a profound widening of his eyes and he toddles out alongside Alienor, waiting for her to curtsey before hecurls his chin to his chest and lowers his torso into a timid bow, rising again in the aftermath but failing to lift his eyes again, but for a short flicker to Zephyrine's eyes when she guesses his status, to which guess he provides a noddle of confirmation.

"I was an adept, yes, but my circumstances have changed, and when the marquist is finished, I will be departing La Rose Sauvage," Alienor explains with a serious nod, far more sober and quite a bit less cheerful than she was a moment ago. She is notably young to have a finished marque, though if the marquist has been at work on her back, it might explain why her gown billows so much. She holds Raimbaut's hand thereafter, a bit of a comfort to him, perhaps. "I am uncertain as to what my future career will be, though I may continue as an independent courtesan or pursue another avenue."

"A cousin? Perhaps we are. I shall look into such when I find the time to do so and let you know. Family or not, it is good to have acquaitenances here in the city. It is most certainly a pleasure to meet you Zephyrine." She turns to Gerrard and states to him. "Gerrard, make a note to invite Zephyrine to lunch sometime soon at the residence." A smile is given back to her. "I know little of the details of the Houses here in the city. I must admit my knowlwdge is a bit limited any deeper than the Night Court in Elua."

Her eyes slide to Raimbut and Alienor, and the smile given is difficult to determine if it is genuine or not, but ut certainly seems so. "That is the good thing about one's future. It is unwritten. A blank sheet of parchment just waiting for the story to be told." Is Marguerite actually being…helpful to someone else? "The good thing is you need not write it all at once. A bit each day and see where you end up when you put the pen down each evening. Dont' try to write it all at once."

Zéphyrine smiles back at Raimbaut, but then is distracted by Alienor's statement and blinks. "I… oh. Congratulations? Or not?" She starts to say something else and then seems to think better of it. Instead she looks to Marguerite. "They're analogous to Alyssum, more or less. So modesty and innocence and being demure. It's lovely and relaxing, though… I think largely not quite what I end up looking for, but, obviously some people really enjoy it."

Raimbaut almost forgets to, but, in th end, tangles his fingers up wit Alie's and remains at her side, squeezing her hands possessively, as though his fingertips might stip her from leaving, somehow. Zephyrine is, meanwhile, doing a fine job acting as vocal chords for just about anything he could wish to explain to the well-guarded Lady.

"Yes, Alyssum. Though I find that I'm not very well suited for Alyssum at this point, having experienced some things that make me feel that perhaps I would enjoy a different approach that is not compatible with being a White Rose," Alienor explains with a little smile. And then a fat raindrop lands squarely on the bust of her white dress, and she all but squeaks. "Oh, Raimbaut! We need to get out of the rain! This wearing white is awful in the rain!" She remembers a parting curtsey, though, smiling briefly at the two ladies, then, dragging her silent companion by the sleeve, scurries for shelter. "Pleasure seeing you!" she calls over her shoulder as they go. "Hope to see you both again soon!" The chaperones and guards pick up after the white clad pair, also interested in getting out of the imminent rainstorm.

The rain does begin to pick up and the umnbrella she is holding is merely for appearance and is doing little to protect her from the increasing rain that statred as a light misty drizzle and has now become something a bit more steady. SHe is doing her best to remain, afterall she woud hate to appear anything less than cordial an improper, but there is a time to abandon ship and she has reached that point. Even despite the rain beginning to soak her, Marguerite is maintaining the only image she allows people to see: Elegance.

Doing her best to try to even pretend the rain is not even happening, the young woman keeps her smile on fully, her expression one of crodiality and her posture still perfect, not even flinching in the slightest as the drops pelt her dress. "I fear it grows late I should be returning home. It was a pleasure to meet you..sort of." Those words called out to the departing pair of Roses." Her attention goes back to Zephyrine and she half-curtseys once more. "We shall have to speak again when it is not so late. I shall call upon you for lunch soon." She slowly turns, nodding to her guards who fall in beside her, her dress wet, her slippers soaked, but not letting anyone know it bothers her in the slightest.

Zéphyrine gives the departing Roses a a wave and a smile and then Marguerite gets a small curtsey before Zephyrine pulls up the hood on her cloak and grins at her guard then addresses his beseeching look. "Fine, fine, we can make our way home, stop looking at me like that. We could be on the deck of a ship hauling lines or trying to keep our course. We're not going to melt." Still, it's said with a laugh as she, too, turns her steps towards home.

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