(1866-10-07) Pretty Young Ladies
Pretty Young Ladies
Summary: Pretty young they are, Viscountess Elaine Cassomir and Lady Milicent Avathor. They couldn't be more different in temper and views. Still, they attempt a conversation at the Firebrand Inn in Firen.
Date: 07-08/10/2015 (Date of RP)
Related: none.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Elaine  Milicent  

Firebrand Inn - Firen - Galenthia
The Firebrand Inn is one of the more popular places within Firen with a constant flow of patrons looking for a room or just coming in for a tankard of ale or a bowl of stew. A fire burns merrily in the fireplace on all but the warmest of days, lending a cheery glow as well as the warmth and hominess that is appreciated by all.
Tables are evenly spaced, allowing for the serving wenches to move about the room easily, and almost always occupied as are the tall stools that sit before the finely-polished bar. Sounds of laughter and conversation rings though the air, lending a festiveness to the atmosphere, and music can also be heard as bards and entertainers often perform, enticing the patrons to join in.
From the main room one will find a staircase that leads to the rooms upstairs and a door behind the bar that leads towards the kitchen.
Octobre 7th, 1866

This early Octobre day has started off with a grey sky looming over the marketplace, where Elaine Cassomir and her retinue of handmaiden and three guards have been wandering among the stands, to check on the wares on display. When thunder and lightning has announced a massive downpour which is about to commence, the young blonde Viscountess has decided to seek refuge in the nearby Firebrand Inn, deciding against a return to the Cassomir Manse, as it would be too far away, and she and her people probably drenched before reaching it.

And so the door to the inn opens just in the moment it starts to rain, admitting the young woman of barely eighteen summers, blonde hair done in a braid that falls down over her back, a cloak worn against the chill of the season, and beneath it, a dress of high-waisted cut and dark green colour, with some notable embroideries spreading from the torso down to the skirts, a pattern of flowers in pale pink, and lavender. The cloak is removed by her maid, and the three guards secure the Cassomir Viscountess a table at the back of the common room, where she will sit down, after ordering some hot tea from the serving girl.

Much later than she wanted, Milicent walks in with the poise of nobility, wearing a long black gown. The dress looks quite simple, but the black lace around her neck and bust adds a lot of elegance to the cloth, giving the ginger a mischievious, playful and slightly mysterious personality. The lace like some kind of shadow bares some parts of her pale freckled skin, and hides some of the parts. Some bared parts are less than proper, but they are so tiny, that they would provoke mild excitement rather than lustful thoughts.

Milicent keeps her hair tress, wild as fire. The darkness of her clothes is a contrast to the brightness of her curls. She has a warm smile in her features and is followed by a cautious guard. You must be cautious, when you have to keep a fragile and petite lady safe.

She removes her dark brown cloak and just gives it to the guard. The skin of her arms, her reddish cheeks have an adorable sparkling, created by the drops of rain. The wetness makes her hair look even more curly than they are for real. "It's colder than I expected," the redhead says for herself, "I need some tea…" And she moves to find a free seat.

The young woman entering draws Elaine’s attention, her grey-blue eyes focus on the red-haired woman who seems to be of noble birth. A woman of a similar age as her own, and so the hand of the blonde lady will come up in a polite wave. “It is cold indeed, my lady. Maybe… you’d like to have some tea at my table?” Elaine must have overheard the girl’s muttered words. “I’d prefer some company… and maybe some conversation, to just sitting here while I wait for the rain to stop.” She gestures towards a vacant seat. The smile she has for Milicent is friendly and curious.

Milicent slowly turns her attention to the talking sweetness. Her curious gaze slides from the stranger's eyes to the tip of her nose, rosy lips, then jumps on her yellow hair and shins down across the golden locks. The glinting eyes like a sky of a young ginger stop on the other girl's waist just for one longer moment, before climbing down the skirt to meet with feet and then flying all over Elaine's body to meet the look of a stranger one more time.

The redhead indulges into the role of a predator for a second, who just saw an adorable clueless gazelle, "A conversation, you say…" She drawls softly and takes a few graceful steps toward the offered seat, "My lady, why is it me, who draws your attention? Will it be an omnipotent finger of the destiny or it's your careless curiosity, who trusts strangers so easily?" She slides into the seat, where Milicent extends her legs and folds hands on her lap.

There are three guards watching over Elaine, two of them lingering close by, and the third by the door. Her handmaiden has taken a seat nearby, not directly at the table, but close enough to offer assistance if required. The woman Milicent sees is young, round-faced, the cheeks rosy, her features comely. Her dress more hiding a waist than revealing it, but maybe it has been the exquisite embroidery there, that has drawn the other woman’s eye.

“Careless curiosity?”; echoes Elaine with an amused chuckle. “I have guards. But… yes, I am curious. I’ve never seen you before. But you have a servant, and your fine dress tells me you are of noble birth?” At least this is what the Cassomir lady guesses. “I am Elaine Cassomir, pleased to meet you.” She hesitates, biting her bottom lip, before she adds: “Viscountess of Ironhold.” Her voice kept low, with a hint of modesty. Her gaze friendly, even when faced with a slightly predatory look. Her posture straight, giving away a certain confidence, despite the modest tone of her voice.

"I have two servants," Milicent corrects the other lady. She leans on the edge of the table, "You should see another in three… two…" the redhead gives a longer pause and once the door of the Inn opens again, she joyfully finishes, "ONE!"

The woman, who enters, is taller than Milicent herself. The handmaiden is also obviously older, and reminds of a heavy rounded stone. She is definitely heavier than one hundred kilograms. Though, it is said that there has to be a lot of a good person. She definitely looks good, kind, fun and friendly. Her cheeks are brightly red from running. Her eyes are full of fear. Though, once these tiny green eyes notice Milicent, the handmaiden sighs in relief. She did not lose her duty object, after all. The woman waddles closer, offers a slow curtsy to Elaine and then smiles at Milicent, "My lady, your mother said…"

Milicent interrupts with a gesture of her hand, "She says many things, Morta. You are my handmaiden, not hers. Please, find yourself something to do…" She offers a cold grin to the woman, who curtsies and moves to take a seat close by. Then the ginger turns to Elaine again, "Lucky you, Viscountess of Ironhold. The brother in law to Viscount Henric Cassomir is a lovely young boy, who was so eager to welcome me as a guest in his mansion. We set up a date, by the way!" Milicent grins and the grin is followed by a laugh. She leans back in her seat, "I am lady Milicent Avathor." She gives no famous names to raise her status or something.

Neither did Elaine. She just stated her title, as would be expected of a Viscountess. Grey-blue eyes widen with a hint of surprise, when Milicent announces her servant’s arrival, and said servant arrives soon after. Elaine’s lips curve upwards when the woman greets her with a curtsey, her attention soon on the exchange between handmaiden and lady. Even so, her brows will lift in astonishment after a moment. “The brother-in-law to my husband? One of my brothers? Which one?”, she inquires, curiously. “Unfortunately, my husband had to leave on some business in Rivergate. He will return soon, I hope. But until then, I spend my time here at our manse in Firen.” The Cassomir explains, that slight bewilderment soon fading, when the red-haired lady introduces herself.

“Lady Milicent! I am glad to make your acquaintance! House Avathor, hmm? Vassal to House Gwynain. I had the… um… pleasure of speaking with Viscount Alfred Gwynain recently.” This being the man holding the office of Keeper of the Seals at the Royal Court in Firen. “Avathor… wasn’t there..?” Her kind smile dims somewhat, as she manages to make the right connections. “Wasn’t there a Sir Travis Avathor? Former steward of Goldhollow?” The colour seems to fade from her features. “I am sorry, my lady. Are you here to plead for the life of your kin? As this Sir Travis has been sentenced to death for treason against the crown…?” The grey-blue eyes of Elaine linger gravely upon Milicent Avathor, her gaze flickering with concern.

"Treason…" Milicent sniffs, "If there was treason, it was his treason. Not mine, not my family's. People shouldn't be judged by the actions of others as I see no reason to go and plead for something I did not commit." A mild irritation is visible in the redhead's features now.

She takes quite a long pause before speaking again, "Cassius, if I remember his name. Still such an innocent and naive child," says seventeen years old lady, "We will do some sparring. Will be interesting to see how he can fight against two swift and quick blades!" She grins once more, but the smile fades quickly.

"Viscountess of Ironhold, would you plead if your uncle would commit a treason of which you have not even heard?"

—-

“Lady Elaine will do, Lady Milicent. No need for the full formal title; besides… I am hardly much older than you, I suppose?” A brief interjection to correct the form of address, a remark that leaves the lips of the Viscountess in question most hesitantly, not used as she is to reminding others of how to address her. “There was treason,” Elaine states then, her lips twitching, as she continues to observe Milicent with empathic attentiveness. “Sir Travis sided with the Thorns. He is a traitor, which has been publicly acknowledged. The answer to your question is…” She blinks and lowers her gaze, trying to gather her thoughts. “I am not sure. I have never been confronted with such a situation. If someone would accuse my father of treason, I would not hesitate to speak in his defense. Because I would know such accusations would be unfounded.” She exhales, a faint smile curling her lips as she raises her eyes once again to meet this Avathor lady’s gaze. “But Lord Volstak is not accused of treason. May I ask, in what way you are related to Sir Travis?” The question asked, before the topic shifts into a less sombre direction.

There is a hint of mirth flashing in Elaine’s grey-blue eyes, when Milicent finally gives the name of Elaine’s brother in question. “Cassius! By the One. He is seventeen! And I wager, if he could hear you speak of him that way, he’d be very displeased.” She giggles. “Innocent and naive? Hmmm… So… you are trained with two swords…?” Her enthusiasm dims a little. “How interesting.”

Milicent did not hear the question of Viscountess about Sir Travis or she chose not to hear it on purpose. So, the subject is totally changed to the blades and fighting. The young woman’s features are lighted up by enthusiasm, “Indeed! I trust in my small and quick body, and two sharp blades. So, I do not use these shields. I am able to get behind my attacker before he even understands it. Or I just use my blades as a shield. That’s quite useful too. Sadly, I did not wanted to become a squire… So, did not finish the training. Otherwise, I would be a knight now.” She rubs her finger into the table.


Elaine exhales, and lowers her gaze, sensing the topic of Sir Travis Avathor is not something Milicent wishes to pursue. “You are here with your family, Lady Milicent?”, she inquires, shifting the topic a little instead. “To attend the Royal Court?” Her hand moves over her skirts, adjusting the fabric. “As my husband and I have. The Palace is quite impressive. And… Cassius must have told you he is staying at our Manse? So you are meaning to spar with him there?” A brow lifts, as does her gaze, and she smiles when her grey-blue eyes meet those of the red-haired lady. “Mayhaps I can watch, when you challenge my brother? He is a very capable squire, and his knight is a valiant fighter. Sir Bertram Delarayne.”

Her fingers wrap about her cup of tea that has been brought, along with another for Milicent, as Elaine Cassomir tries to cool it a little with her breath. She remains quiet for a moment, listening to the other lady’s enthusiastic account of her sword technique. “You fight with two blades, but you aren’t squiring to become a knight?”, she remarks, shooting Milicent a bewildered glance. “What do you strive to become then, Lady Milicent Avathor? You may be young, but already past the age where you consider various options, without settling for one?”

Lady Avathor is just staring at the cup of her tea. She is not touching it, she is not trying to cool it down. She just stares at it. Slowly, her enthusiasm fades and is changed with a mild irritation, “You do sound like my mother, my lady. Why I need to strive for something grand? Why I have to bother myself with finding a spot under the sun? I do not want a boring life, where I just fight, or just read books, or count money. I do not want to be a boring mother too. I strive for fun stories, which could be worth of the bard’s quill. I want to be a traveller and catch all the possible adventures!” She grins and leans on the table with her elbows more like a random common kid than a lady. She fixes her look on the other lady.

“When I will grow too old for adventures, then I want to settle down and make some babies. I could tell them stories about how awesome their mother was. They will tell these stories to their kids and etc.” She chuckles and then reaches for the cup of tea. She wraps her fingers around it, “I don’t mind you watching our spar, but it sounded as if your brother did not want a spar, actually. So, we will see how things will go.”

Questions about family are unanswered. Maybe forgotten, maybe forgotten on purpose.

“I do sound like your mother?”, echoes Elaine with a chuckle. “Well. I am not sure what you know of my father’s House of Volstak.” She leans forward, reaching a hand over to place it on Milicent’s lower arm. “We were commoners, till after the end of the Succession War, then my father was elevated by Queen Melisande - he received the lordship of Redbarrow. I… was until that point striving to become a weaver, now… look where the One above has brought me?” She leans back in her seat, allowing her words to impress upon the young lady Milicent Avathor. “I pretty much thought I knew what would be my calling. But I have found to know such can be helpful in keeping my focus. Not to have goals… goals that will serve the family, sounds like a pretty desolate state, to me.”
Grey-blue eyes flicker as Elaine sips from her tea. “Adventures are a thing that appear rather selfish to pursue. Life isn’t what some rather vivid storybooks would make us believe.” She sighs softly. “I have married for duty, not because it was my wish. Sooner or later that same duty will be placed upon you, as that is the natural way of things.” There, she said it. Oh how old and boring she must appear with her sensible views to the slightly younger and so impulsive Milicent Avathor!

Milicent shakes her head, “No way I would marry some kind of a boring selfish lord, just to be sold out by my family like a breeding mare!” The young redhead sniffs and rolls her eyes. She withdraws her arm, not allowing for Elaine to touch it, but she leans closer at the same time and whispers, “I will find Paulo. We still will run into each other and then… Then nobody will ever separate us again. He is my twin,” Soul twin, because a real twin died just a few minutes after it’s birth. However, Milicent sees no reason to explain this, “Then we will start our journey. We will travel all around the world and oh, dear world, hide! Because once we will find you… IT WILL BE LEGENDARY!” And she shouts the last sentence loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Even her handmaiden flinches at the sudden explosion.

Milicent grins widely and then looks at Elaine once more. This time with some kind of sympathy, “I am so sorry, that a normal life was stolen from you and you had to become a part of intrigues, politics, friendly backstabbings, betrayals…” She sighs and leans back in her seat, this time raising the cup of tea to her lips. She takes a huge gulp of already cold drink, before adding, “But I do understand you. You must be careful, because as easily as people raise, the same way they can fall.”

Elaine observes Milicent’s protest with one lifted eyebrow. “I fear that is how things will end up,” she states softly. “It’s the bane of nobility. Daughters and sons will be used to establish and strengthen bonds between families. The same will happen to your brother,” of course, the blonde lady can only assume the mentioned Paulo is a blood relation. She flinches when Milicent raises her voice, perhaps taken aback by the red-haired lady’s enthusiasm. Even so, a smile remains on Elaine’s lips, she perhaps not impervious to Milicent’s energy and fervor. When the other woman expresses her regret at Elaine’s fate, the Cassomir Viscountess straightens and shakes her head, with a confident glint in her eyes.

“And I am sorry that you continue to deny the claims that your family imposes upon you. I did not choose my path, but still, I will try to walk it with the grace expected of me. The county needs a Viscountess. What good would it serve, if I shied away from my responsibilities?” She takes another sip from her cup of tea. “To deny and hide from something does not make it go away, if you get my meaning. You remain a lady of noble blood. Your father and mother will need you to make that sacrifice, at some point. In your case, I hope that point is far away in the future.” Her lips curl, very faintly, at Milicent’s latter remark. “Everyone can be replaced.”, Elaine says, after a moment, her grey-blue eyes flickering. “Especially, in the case of failure or treason.” She meets Milicent’s gaze. “I understand you are angry. Your relative has fallen from grace and will be beheaded. But even so, the Queen will be wise enough, as to allow your House another chance to redeem itself.” Or the whole House of Avathor would have been already stripped of its title, and perhaps have suffered a much graver fate.

“Excuse me, my lady, I didn’t realize that you are an expert on my life and how should I live it…” She opens her palm and pretends with the other hand that she is holding a quill, and is ready to write, “Please, continue, while I take notes…” Milicent sniffs and for a second pretends that she writes something down on her palm.

Then the young woman stands up quite mannerly, pushing her chair a little bit back. She leans on the table firmly with both of her hands and hisses “I did not come here to listen for a useless lecture about how life must be lived…”

And then she just turns to leave into the rain. The guard and handmaiden jump on their feet ready to follow their lady out even if they do not want to get wet at all.

Elaine frowns, when she hears Milicent’s retort, she straightening once again in her seat, as she studies the red-haired lady before her with a mixture of offense and concern. “You mistake me. I am not an expert in your life, how could I be, I hardly know you! I may be hardly older than you. But I’ve learned my lessons, in these past six months. I knew the day would come, when I was to marry. I had expected to have many more years before such would happen…” Her words trail off and she sighs, grey-blue eyes lingering on that mock imitation of taking notes. She narrows her gaze when Milicent rises to stand, and in fact, she moves to stand as well.

“You may be of noble blood, still it is your conduct, and your reputation that will define your worth,” the Cassomir states, true to her father’s House’s motto Honour through Deeds. Her smile has almost faded completely into a minimal curling of her lips, as her grey-blue eyes follow Milicent Avathor to the door.

“Even one such as you can fall, Lady Milicent.”, Elaine calls after her, her tone heavy with regret and concern, before she resumes her seat with another sigh when the door falls shut behind Avathor lady and retinue. And her words of warning fill the silence that remains.

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