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Back a step
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Back a step
| Fintan_de_Marin
Posts: 1,511 Status: Duke Karma: +250 [+1] [-1]   |
Subject: Part Two | |||||
| The Festival of the Harvest Part Two Rogue was awakened to the sounds of birds outside his window, and to the sound of hammers beating on wood outside. He rose out of his bed and stepped over to the window. Below, on the grounds there were last minute preparations were being made for the festival. Workers were tapping in to the large kegs that held specially brewed ales, and specially spiced wines. The flavors complemented the crisp time of year that was being entered. Fire pits were being checked for safety and the lamb, beef, and pheasants being put on the spit. Further away, there were targets being checked to make sure that nothing to aid in cheating had been inserted or cast on to them. The rails for the joust were being polished to a gleam. Fintan quickly got dressed in his new suit. Dark brown boots with golden spurs, still in the rose shape, fit snuggly up to his thighs. His trousers were a browned orange and were tucked in to the boots. His shirt, an off white tan had more lace than usual, laced all the way up to his Adam's apple where the collar then turned downward and extended back to the base of his throat. It was turned over the collar of his doublet which was about an inch higher than the last tie of the shirt. It was fastened by golden leaves up the front, and had gold ivy along the skirting. He fixed his rapier on to his dark brown belt, and swung his new cloak around him. The cloak was worn similarly to his sword capes, the only difference is that it came down to his calves rather than his hip. It had a golden chain that came around under his right arm much like his capes. Almost instantly, Fintan pulled on his dark brown gloves to avoid his silver hand from clashing with the autumn colors. Fintan stared at his new hat for a brief moment before picking it up off it's holder and setting it gently on his head. He had purchased a new dark brown hat for the occasion. This one, rather than being cocked on the right side was bowled on the left. It came up only slightly, and the golden plumes went from the front of the hat to the left behind a band of velvet that matched the rest of his outfit, and had golden floral studding. The count examined himself in the looking glass as he slid a maple stocked, brass finished, pistol in to the holster on his right side. Rogue removed his hat as he exited his room and made his way through his manor to breakfast. The manor was quieter that morning than Fintan had ever seen it before. Especially on the morning of a festival, which he often held. It was an almost deathlike silence. The jingling of his spurs echoed through the halls, for a short time. They were interrupted by the clacking of boots on the marble floor. "Welcome home, Iliecit." Fintan called down the hall, seeing the black clothed figure of his wife. "Thank you." She returned, very suddenly beside her political husband. "I hope you intend to wear something more festive for the festival...I think black may cause a bit of depression." He announced in a slight joking manner as to not offend the countess. "Is this not the feast of your god Samhane? Lord of the Living Souls?" She returned with a smirk, her fangs showing. "Yes dear, however that is no reason to look so gloomy. ... I am sure Lady Linani will be wearing bright festive clothing..." He returned the smirk, looking out of the corner of his eyes. Iliecit's face drained of what little color existed, and her smirk disappeared. "I shall dress to match you...I am sure I can find something." She stated as if she had the idea of dressing colorfully herself. "I had a matching dress made." "Even better. I shall dress, and meet you for dinner." "Breakfast." "Of course." The vampiress turned on a heel and walked in the other direction towards her chambers. The count shook his head and continued on his way to breakfast. When Fintan entered the dining room, he saw Christine and Losreal already sitting down, and discussing their works. For the occasion both bards had dressed formally. Where they got the clothing, Fintan did not ask, nor did he truly care. He presumed they had simply gone out and purchased something. Though in Losrael's case it looked more as if he had brought the suit with him. The man was clothed in what looked like a military uniform. An indigo blue jacket, styled so that it remained open, was worn over a white shirt and waistcoat. The waistcoat was fastened up to the collar of the shit, which had a red neck wrap. The trousers came down just below the knee. Boots were up to the middle of the thigh, fully covering the hem of the trouser legs. A buckle of brass was fixed on a white leather belt, and bore the engrave of "FA". "Dare I say, you are a soldier in the Army of the Federation of Acmoria, Mr. Riddle?" Fintan joked as he set his hat on the table, next to Losrael's black wool tricorn. "Former, Your Grace." He stated proudly. "I retired a few years ago to take up writing." "For how long?" Fintan asked, sitting down. "Four years, I joined just after your country graciously donated six thousand muskets to our cause." "Oh yes...I remember that. To hold your revolution against D'Hara. I am happy we could have been of some assistance." "If I remember correctly, you were one of the people against it....saying that a democracy could never work out." Losreal stated dryly with a risen brow. "For ten years you have been doing well enough. I am pleased to say I was wrong." Fintan snapped in defense. However, he was still a monarchist, and would stand against any revolution held to overthrow the Arelian Crown. "Miss Uisceglan." The she-elf was clothed in a simple gown of red silk, with a gold chain belt around her waist. Her hair was the most intricate. Clearly done by one of the maids as there were obvious Arelian designs braided in to it. She wore a pair of dangling gold earrings, which were crafted in to spinning spirals that looped each other.. "What of you? Are you a ...." He thought for a moment and spoke in a full joke. "Courtesan? Your beauty easily surpasses one." He took a sip of a sweet wine that was set in front of him. "Yes, I was one for a good ten years." She stated plainly. Fintan choked on the wine, much to Losrael's amusement. "I...I..." "I'm kidding." Christine shook her head while smirking. "I was a scholar. I simply grew tired of that life, learning about all these different lands. I wanted to see them, and becoming a traveling bard was the best way." "That does not quite explain your sword." Fintan rose a brow. "A bard must be able to defend herself." "Indeed they must. I would think My Lord knows this already." Iliecit stepped in to the room, her clothing now matching Fintan's. An elaborate gown of the same velvet that gave Fintan's suit, with golden silk trim. The skirt was a traditional hoopskirt, decorated by golden tool and designs of golden leaves. The corset was tight around her waist, but the sleeves were loose around the arms and shoulders, allowing for movement. Rouge had been applied to her cheeks, to give them a sense of color. Her hair had been let loose and put in to waves, most likely the cause of her constant braid. A small tea hat was cocked to the left on her head, and had a veil rolled up around it for her to pull down when she wished. She extended her hand to her husband as he stood up. "I would like to introduce my wife." Fintan used the moment to his advantage. "Countess Iliecit de Marin." The woman did not respond to the offering of Losrael's hand when the ex soldier offered it. Rather, she flashed a smile where she hid her fangs and nodded. Christine gave a small wave, making both nobles raise a brow, but neither said anything of it. "Charmed, I'm sure." She let go of Fintan's hand and sat down. When a plate was set in front of her, she gave a look to Angel. "I am more thirsty, than hunger dear. My usual...please." She shot her a look. Though she had no problems with her vampire blood, Iliecit did not wish to scare either of her husband's guests. Angel brought Iliecit her usual blood, put in to a goblet to avoid the consistency being seen. The vampiress gently lifted it to her lips and sipped. She minded herself to avoid any blood trickling out, or being left on her lips. Breakfast remained quiet from that point. Losreal occasionally glanced at Iliecit, wondering what was in her drink, but never asked anything about it. The vampiress' gaze switched between the three. Every time she landed her eyes on Losreal, she would smile knowing he was looking at her. She was however, careful enough not to show her fangs. Christine remained silent through breakfast. She was concentrating on eating, and writing her stories. Occasionally, out of interest, Fintan would try to sneak a peak. Each time, Christine would cover what she'd written and give him a look. The large clock in the hall struck nine. Fintan wiped his mouth and cleared his throat. "The festival guests shall be arriving soon." He started to stand. Iliecit put her hand on his. "Sit, what kind of wife would I be if I were not the first one outside? I believe Jon and Anna Marie will be here shortly. I will go and greet your guests as they arrive, and you may follow your fashion rules as they are needed." Christine rolled her eyes at the thought of anything to do with fashion. "Come along you two, let us give His Grace some time. He will be dealing with pompous Westland nobles today...Angel, be a darling and get him a whiskey." Iliecit pulled her gloves on, they fit her hands perfectly, as if a second skin. She began to roll down the veil on her tea hat. The veil was just barely dark enough to not allow light to pierce it. Fintan stood and kissed Iliecit's hand before she turned and walked out, beckoning Losreal and Christine to come with her. |
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