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Post by Deft on Feb 12, 2008 2:23:51 GMT -5
[OOC: Laurella and Slynin are off to a ball- feel free to hop in once they get there! ^^ But it'd be rather... odd if they randomly popped up in his house. So. Yay? ^^]
He snapped lightly across the marble floor, his shoes clicking pleasantly as he walked- they were well oiled and still stiff with newness. Stopping smartly at a grinning, golden mirror, its glass unfurling three times the size of a man, he gave a sharp check of his clothing, paying more attention to the pressed folds and cut then to anything else. His dark, crisped pants fell nicely over the shoes he so admired, and his shirt seemed even a fresher white compared to the blackness of his water-like coat, the flashing crimson vest contrasting nicely with all his blacks-and-whites. After a crisp adjusting of this-fold-and that-fold, he decided he looked presentable (now that her powers were getting stronger, he was a little on edge on how she might perceive him if she ever attempted to look- but, it was silly, of course, her opinion of his appearance hardly mattered, but. Still. He wanted to make the court ladies a little of their guard anyway. They where the key to their wealthy husbands.) and made his way down the shimmering staircase and landed lithely in the glowing, lightly lit center room, his mahogany doors waxed and glowing on their imposing frames.
"Sestril," he turned to the maid poised at the ready by his over-flourished plant frothing silently and brimming with pailbells in the corner, "Fetch Laurella, will you? We ought to leave as quickly as we may."
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Post by Valora Desmond on Feb 12, 2008 22:01:49 GMT -5
Laurella stood in front of the window in her bedroom, pressing her hands against the cool glass. Her soft green eyes held a delicate glaze and seemed to gaze out the window with a penetrating gaze. Soft black curls cascaded down delicate shoulders, where they had been brushed and twisted so that they held a keen shine. A maid had spent nearly an hour on them, though Laurella was a patient girl, so it was really no problem. She was dressed in a satin dress that hugged her petite figured on the upper half and floated delicately around her ankles. Matching satin slippers the same crimson of her dress had been slipped onto her feet.
The voice of Slynin echoed through her head, in unison with the words he had been speaking at that very moment and a hazy vision of his face also appeared. "Fetch Laurella, will you? We ought to leave as quickly as we may." Murmured through her mind and cut into her wandering thoughts. It was almost an instinctive thing, and she was always able to use her gift most accurately when it involved Slynin. She turned and walked gracefully towards the doorway, and quickly put on gloves, then laid a white-gloved hand on the door handle and opened it with a light twist. Her slippers tapped softly on the floor and she turned towards the figure of the maid she had foreseen Slynin had sent. "I am coming." She spoke softly, her glazed over gaze staring ahead with its usual understated fierceness.
Laurella glided into the room where Slynin stood waiting for her. "It seems we match." Her voice was light and dreamlike as the image of Slynin flashed in her head. "Is this mere coincidence or your doing?" She questioned with a delicate and rare smile on her face. Everything about the girl was delicate and vulnerable, her ivory skin and haunting green eyes making her appear almost ghostlike. [/size] |
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Post by Deft on Feb 14, 2008 12:48:58 GMT -5
His lips rolled into a smirk fluently, and, his eyes flashing lightly, his voice oily and high with amusement,
"Now child- you know very well everything is tipped upon my puppet strings. Of course I planned it."
So, she did look. Well. He looked sharp. He always did.
He took her fail hand in his and slipped her arm into his elbow, catching her like a usual courtier and began his grand parade to the doors- they opened without cause as he came near (the servents where near invisible in this house)- and shivered from step to step.
The night was cold, brisk, and thier breath flashed in great white flings before them. The nightsky was bitter and gray, and the way the gradients of cloud smeared together struck him like a watered-down watercolor portrait- excellent. The dull setting strung out by nature would clash brilliantly with the flaring, gold light of the ball: people would be more glad to be there and more saddened to leave...
He held out his hand to her as they got to the glossy, broadly-stroked carriage, prepared to aid her into the cushioned, velvatine innards- the shade of the seats matched the clothe of their clothing...
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Post by Valora Desmond on Feb 16, 2008 18:05:12 GMT -5
"I could have guess." She murmured, a delicate smile flickering to her face yet again. Laurella felt Slynin's touch on her arm as he led her out of the house. Once the cool air touched her skin, she shivered. Her senses were particularly sharp and the smell of cinnamon drifted to her nose. Without thinking, she leaned closer to Slynin to warm herself. She was comfortable with him, for she had lived with him for most of her life and he had raised her. Laurella reached out a gloved hand and gently laid it in his as he helped her into the carriage.
She slid inside with flawless steps and daintily crossed her ankles. "What's the occasion? I don't believe I was informed." She asked gently, and laid her hands on her lap. Laurella listened to the soft sound of wind hitting the carriage and Slynin's breathing. She lived in a lonely world. The thought would often make her sad, but she tried to avoid thinking about it to much. Really, she did a lot of thinking. It was one of the few things she could do. Some might say she thought things through too much. Pondering was one of the things she could do best. [/size] |
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Post by Deft on Feb 16, 2008 19:12:05 GMT -5
"Well," he leaned into the softness of his seat, the carriage fumbling across the layered cobblestone beneath them, "the Count de Guiche has just taken on his third wife- as well as his seventh mistress. It is not a wedding, that was held somewhere in the south on the beach, I declined the invitation- it did not seem prudent to accept." In truth, he was not powerful enough to receive there presence, but the failure to arrive at this event would be a waste of an opportunity.
"Any scrapes of the future you can pick up would be, of course, appreciated, but I do not wish you to strain yourself tonight. I'll need to work for the first bit of the evening, but all the rest we are going to enjoy ourselves. And, no, it is not an option." He smiled darkly, his voice furling in curling, velvet good humor.
"Besides, tomorrow I have some training for you. It may be rough, but I've got an interesting theory I would like to try."
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