Post by Avrielle nó Valerian on Jun 26, 2006 22:22:58 GMT -5
Avrielle's Masque, or how Jervis leTournay became infatuated with our young heroine.
Morning dawns with festivity in Orchis House. I admired the shades of rose cast across the white walls of my chamber before slipping out of bed. Walking to the wardrobe, I threw open the heavy oak doors and gazed upon the many gowns, cloaks and shifts within. I needed something nice for my first solo shopping trip. And mayhap I would meet an unexpected friend. I smiled, recalling the friendly messages slipped under my door by Keegan. Mayhap he knew of a noble or adept looking for a Midwinter assignation. I frowned at my clothes, and then selected a dress of russet and black, and a forest green cloak. My messy curls I twisted on top of my head. I certainly did not look my best, but I felt it. Beaming at my reflection, I stepped out.
The halls were lively with early morning laughter. I slipped unnoticed into the dining hall and helped myself to some porridge. Wolfing it down, I would have made my exit quickly had I not bumped into that confounded Master Craven. The Master has never quite forgiven me for not being much of a singer. These days, he craves cheer to soothe his bitter soul and has taken to bedding Orchis adepts.
“Avrielle nó Orchis!” he bellowed. I cringed as most of the dining hall looked in your direction. “Still dancing, I wager?”
“Yes, Master,” I chortled. “How is my mother?”
“She is well, my dear child. I trust you have yet found a patron?”
Another question. “No, not yet, Master.”
He shook his head. “Pity, a pretty thing like you.” He patted my head, but in his pat there was a hint of a caress.
I shrank away as politely as I could. “Pray excuse me, Master, I have some shopping to do. The masque, you know –”
“Of course!” bellowed the Master. “Well, off you go then!”
I curtseyed, grinning widely, then dashed to the exit. Outside, the ground was damp with dew and the flowers glistened wetly. I splashed down the road to the clothier’s district, stopping suddenly at a stall laden with masques. Orchis was cat-themed this year, but I knew not which kind of cat I wanted to be. I have dark hair and green eyes, and I wanted something complimentary. I felt a small tap on my hand and looked up into the eyes of the handsome clothier. “If I might make a suggestion, my lady?” he asked.
“Of course, sir,” I said, smiling.
He reached under the pile of elaborate masques to bring up a very simple one. It was a housecat, to be sure, but with silver fur and clear blue beads worked in whorls over the cheeks. The ears were pointed and tipped with white and the whiskers were real, black and white. I held it up and gazed in the glass. A magnificent creature looked back at me.
“Oh, what a find!” I cried. “How much, my lord?”
He laughed. “I am no lord, only Jervis le Tournay, clothier. Fifty ducats.”
“Fifty?” I exclaimed aghast. “You jest, my lord.”
“My lady is known for her jests and laughter, but I swear I am not fooling you.”
“I will pay you thirty.”
“Thirty? My lady underestimated the value of my hard work! Forty-five.”
“I could find this in Night’s Doorstep for less! Thirty-five.”
“My lady drives a hard bargain. Forty.”
“Thirty seven.”
“Thirty eight.”
“Done.” I plunked the coins on the table, delighted with my new prize. I turned to go.
“My lady!”
I turned back. “Yes, my lord?”
He blushed deeply. “My lady of Orchis House, have you yet found a patron?”
I laughed. “Good sir, you have a pure heart, and I would take you for my patron, were you to have 900 ducats.”
“900?”
“It is my virgin price,” I said, laughing. “Don’t worry, sir, I will be here in another year, maybe then we will see.”
“Goodbye, my lady.”
“Goodbye, my lord.”
Morning dawns with festivity in Orchis House. I admired the shades of rose cast across the white walls of my chamber before slipping out of bed. Walking to the wardrobe, I threw open the heavy oak doors and gazed upon the many gowns, cloaks and shifts within. I needed something nice for my first solo shopping trip. And mayhap I would meet an unexpected friend. I smiled, recalling the friendly messages slipped under my door by Keegan. Mayhap he knew of a noble or adept looking for a Midwinter assignation. I frowned at my clothes, and then selected a dress of russet and black, and a forest green cloak. My messy curls I twisted on top of my head. I certainly did not look my best, but I felt it. Beaming at my reflection, I stepped out.
The halls were lively with early morning laughter. I slipped unnoticed into the dining hall and helped myself to some porridge. Wolfing it down, I would have made my exit quickly had I not bumped into that confounded Master Craven. The Master has never quite forgiven me for not being much of a singer. These days, he craves cheer to soothe his bitter soul and has taken to bedding Orchis adepts.
“Avrielle nó Orchis!” he bellowed. I cringed as most of the dining hall looked in your direction. “Still dancing, I wager?”
“Yes, Master,” I chortled. “How is my mother?”
“She is well, my dear child. I trust you have yet found a patron?”
Another question. “No, not yet, Master.”
He shook his head. “Pity, a pretty thing like you.” He patted my head, but in his pat there was a hint of a caress.
I shrank away as politely as I could. “Pray excuse me, Master, I have some shopping to do. The masque, you know –”
“Of course!” bellowed the Master. “Well, off you go then!”
I curtseyed, grinning widely, then dashed to the exit. Outside, the ground was damp with dew and the flowers glistened wetly. I splashed down the road to the clothier’s district, stopping suddenly at a stall laden with masques. Orchis was cat-themed this year, but I knew not which kind of cat I wanted to be. I have dark hair and green eyes, and I wanted something complimentary. I felt a small tap on my hand and looked up into the eyes of the handsome clothier. “If I might make a suggestion, my lady?” he asked.
“Of course, sir,” I said, smiling.
He reached under the pile of elaborate masques to bring up a very simple one. It was a housecat, to be sure, but with silver fur and clear blue beads worked in whorls over the cheeks. The ears were pointed and tipped with white and the whiskers were real, black and white. I held it up and gazed in the glass. A magnificent creature looked back at me.
“Oh, what a find!” I cried. “How much, my lord?”
He laughed. “I am no lord, only Jervis le Tournay, clothier. Fifty ducats.”
“Fifty?” I exclaimed aghast. “You jest, my lord.”
“My lady is known for her jests and laughter, but I swear I am not fooling you.”
“I will pay you thirty.”
“Thirty? My lady underestimated the value of my hard work! Forty-five.”
“I could find this in Night’s Doorstep for less! Thirty-five.”
“My lady drives a hard bargain. Forty.”
“Thirty seven.”
“Thirty eight.”
“Done.” I plunked the coins on the table, delighted with my new prize. I turned to go.
“My lady!”
I turned back. “Yes, my lord?”
He blushed deeply. “My lady of Orchis House, have you yet found a patron?”
I laughed. “Good sir, you have a pure heart, and I would take you for my patron, were you to have 900 ducats.”
“900?”
“It is my virgin price,” I said, laughing. “Don’t worry, sir, I will be here in another year, maybe then we will see.”
“Goodbye, my lady.”
“Goodbye, my lord.”