(1310-07-03) Serendipity
Summary: Evangeline and Colombe meet again but not on purpose.
RL Date: 2018-07-03
Related: None
evangeline colombe 

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.

A balmy Summer evening in the city of Marsilikos always makes for an interesting night at the Rose Sauvage. Perhaps it is the humidity, how the heat sticks to one's flesh leads to nefarious thoughts. Or perhaps that is just Evangeline. She stalks the halls like a panther on the prowl. Her clawed nails scrap the paint from the walls as she ambles on rather tall heels, slow and methodical. She watches with a predatory gaze as some of the adepts linger. A few are smart enough to move out of her way as she makes her way into the main parlor of the salon. She doesn't even give them a second glance. They're obviously not worth the look. Dark silks swish against her long legs; her gown clinging to her every move and while it appears relatively modest in the front, the entire back is exposed, baring the full marque of the Mandrake. Her makeup is simple, her hair is coiled into a low bun and on her left hand are bejeweled fingertip claws.

The unflappably positive sea captain looks perhaps a little surprised to be where he finds himself. He's almost lost in a study of the decor, head tilted backwards as he takes it all in. He's not paying attention to a single thing, otherwise, and so he steps directly into the path of the incoming Evangeline. "Oh yeah," Colombe comments to himself, pointing at a gargoyle, "that's the sort of thing I want on the figurehead." Without turning his attention away, he fishes a notepad and pencil from his satchel and makes a few notes.

Evangeline stops short rather than crash into the man that has so rudely stepped right into her path. The Salon is known for its three distinct 'flavors'; The red roses of Valerian, the white roses of Alyssum, and the thorns of Mandrake. This particular thorn has been called the 'nice' one but that is a subjective nickname. "Lord Colombe, I would not take you for a clumsy man, is this your idea of flirting?" She asks with a sharp edge to her tongue. Her long legs expertly steer her around him continuing on as if his attempts to throw her off were lousy.

Colombe turns when he's spoken to, then keeps turning as she walks around him. He all but barks a laugh when he realises who it is that's speaking to him. "Flirting? By looking up at the gargoyles? I have to say, if that's what passes for flirting on the part of the clientele here, you have my sympathy," he replies with that charming smile. "I was told to come here for the architecture and decor, as I'm looking to make a few changes to my ship. Nice gargoyles. I want to put something like that on the prow," he explains, pointing to the gargoyle he'd been looking at. "What's got your tongue so pointed, anyway? The heat getting to you? If so, I'd be happy to point out a really great spit of beach a little ways up. Perfect for swimming. I'd even take you, myself."

Hips swing and sway as Evangeline slithers through the parlor. Her exposed back is flawless save for the tattoo that starts near the nape of her neck and almost completely covers the entire length of her spine. The end of the roots hit the top of her tailbone which is precisely where the gown begins again. Her sensuality is marked by a dark edge that can either be inviting or utterly repulsive. It's not like she gives a damn either. She claims the center seat of the leather couch and stretches her slender arms over the back, coveting the entire piece of furniture in a single action. "Architecture and decor. You are a terrible liar." The corner of her mouth ticks into a grin with some amusement playing in the violet-blue of her eyes. "You're not a foreigner, Lord Colombe. You know exactly what you are getting yourself into when you come to the Rose Sauvage; When you come to see a Mandrake, specifically. I do not have to tell -you- why my tongue is so pointed. It is obvious you enjoy the verbal lashing. You could certainly use a good flogging." Her feathers are not ruffled in the least. It's obvious from the tone of her voice that Eva is quite serious. Colombe is not the usual type of noble that seeks out a Mandrake. It is very possible Evangeline is a touch curious what his fascination is.

Whatever response she's expecting, all he has for her is a deeply amused smirk. With a swagger in his gait, he takes a few steps her way and then sits down on that same couch, not apparently giving a moment's concern for whether she's claimed it or not. He points at the gargoyle again and says, "Of course I know a Mandrake's reputation, Evangeline. I was /told/ to come here to look at the architecture and decor, but I'm not some wide-eyed naif. So, while it might dig a little at your self esteem to hear it, I'm not here to see a Mandrake at all. Oh, don't get me wrong, you're a beautiful woman and I think you've a fine wit - your thrusts don't strike their mark with me, but then few do, so don't take that as criticism - but despite the delightful coincidence of it all, that's all it is: a coincidence." He looks around quickly, frowning a touch. "No wine… too bad," he mutters to himself. Then, back to his normal volume. "But the offer of a swim stands. I don't mean to take you from your service, of course, so if you're not interested or maybe you're afraid of the water? Well, we can also stay here and you can try your level best to make me glad of your insults, and I'll try to keep from leering too obviously."

The parlor is not completely abandoned save for the two of them. Not at all. There are various patrons and other courtesans tending to business. Whatever it is they are doing is their business and Evangeline does not give them a single drop of attention. Colombe is barely holding onto hers as it is. He's possibly clinging by a tattered string at the point. He mentions wine and she signals a Mandrake novice to fetch something for the nobleman. "The man wishes for wine. Let us not keep him waiting. That would truly be a disappointment." Her honeyed voice drips with sarcasm. "The offer of a swim is a very nice one and I thank you however, you said it yourself, you are not here to see a Mandrake, so then why are you sitting here, infringing on my personal space and wasting my very precious time with your minutia of decor and your drivel of coincidence." The novice is returning now with something in her hands. As she gets closer, Colombe will notice that the wine has been served in a dog bowl. Evangeline starts to get up from her seat and motions for the novice to place it on the floor in front of Colombe's feet. "Enjoy your wine, Lord Colombe." She pivots on the ball of her foot and begins to move away from him.

Colombe quirks an eyebrow at the dog dish of wine, looking only more amused than before. "That was the closest you've come yet," he offers to the woman with a grin, "truly. If the wine hadn't come in a dog dish, it might have struck the mark and made me question whether I should have come here." He shakes his head, laughing softly, then rises from the couch. "I'm sure with practice you'll find just the right jab for someone as unflappable as I. And, if you're looking for someone as unflappable as I am to practice on, well, I happen to know someone who is exactly as I am. But then, I don't suppose you're entirely comfortable with /that/ idea. Too bad…"

The man speaks and speaks as Evangeline strolls away, unfazed. It is hard to tell if she's listening for it appears Colombe is attempting to gain her attention by pushing her away. The unflappable man is left with one last, one very important image; Evangeline's marque. A picture worth a thousand words.

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