closed.

[cozen]

WHO: Bastien, Athessa, Alexandrie, Darras, John, Marcoulf, Petrana, Yseult
WHAT: A small apology tour slash charm offensive.
WHEN: Vaguely Drakonis
WHERE: Val Royeaux
NOTES: OOC post.

Background: Riftwatch is in Val Royeaux to make it very clear that they support the Orlesian military and Exalted March and definitely do not condone desertion or harbor deserters. This is necessary because someone in Riftwatch (Bastien) helped someone in Orlais (Vincent Suchet) who was harboring deserters, including, nearly, the son of the Baron and Baronness Auvray. They take a lot of pride in their family's history of valiant military feats and were on the verge of being horribly embarrassed by the whole ordeal before they managed to turn it around and paint it as an insurrectionist conspiracy that tried and failed to lure their son away from his duty. Enough circumstantial connections to Riftwatch came up during Suchet's quick and dramatic trial that the rumor mill went a little wild, so now everyone is here to tame it!

Except Bastien, who's here to put his fake printer name back on and tell some solid lies to the Chancellor's office when they ask him what the deal is, to ensure there's no real non-gossip trouble, and then to have a little bit of a meltdown. 👉👉

Comments

[coquettish_trees]

[ pitched from the other room, as it was necessary— ]

How light is the cream? If it—

[ a sound of mild irritation, and then the Lady appears, still in the first layers of her preparations. Perhaps the sauciest layers, as her hair and makeup are immaculate but she has only just begun the process of dressing, so it is a corset cinched tight over a chemise of cloth woven finely enough that the stockings and garters beneath are more than suggested, its neckline such that her decolletage is an exclamation.

She looks about for Petrana, and then tilts her head in examination of the lifted mask before her face opens into impish amusement and she emits a tinkling little laugh. ]

Oh là, that is close enough to ivory; and I can assure you with some certainty that the De La Fontaine family shall not feel impinged upon.

[ A twitch of her smile at Petra that serves as well as a wink between court ladies, and then she turns to frown exaggeratedly at Bastien. ]

I forbid you to come near the visage of Madame de Cedoux with that, you impudent creature. She is a lady.

[ipseite]

( petrana is (somewhat) less saucy, for all that she's rather more undone than most people who haven't at some point been obliged to share sleeping quarters with her traveling have ever seen, and the indulgence of her mild exasperation calls to mind a more matronly figure than she presently cuts with her habit of necklines rather like alexandrie's— )

I shall shelter beneath your arm, Mme d'Asgard, though I am content with diplomate only. Thank you all.

( the mask, then, now that she has suitably included john and bastien in her gratitude for assistance, and a subtler cosmetic. in lamorre she might despair of her hair, but for all the elaborate orlesian dress she has seen the simplicity of some of their coiffure, and she is relatively confident that her usual modest attempts will serve, and besides look rather less severe hand in glove with her dress and her mask. )

[sulahnan]

[ Stillness is a skill, she gets it. She just doesn't come by it easily. So she sits on her hands and tries very very hard not to let her leg start bouncing. ]

Mesdames et messieurs, you all look merveilleux.

[ No jokey fake accent, just an earnest compliment and an attempt at a language she doesn't speak. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien makes a face—for Athessa's benefit, but not particularly hidden—at that she is a lady. Specifically: briefly-widened eyes and tiny o-shape to the mouth, a sarcastic and silent little ooh, a lady, while he does Athessa up in a way not fit for their betters. (He's next. Men aren't exempt.) As far as impertinence goes, it barely has an edge, let alone a sharp one. It's only a very small sign that he's off his game, and it gives way quickly to a friendly smile at Mme de Cedoux's deft gratitude and Athessa's earnest Orlesian. ]

Toi aussi, mon oisillon. Now what do you think, for tonight—daring or demure?

[ For her face, he means, with the base done. He turns to include Alexandrie in the question—even if she provided the opportunity for that blink of resentment, she isn't really the target of it—and quickly makes a show of shielding his eyes to protect them from her neckline, or vice versa.

Averting his gaze makes it land on John, to whom he adds, ]

You must at least let us do something with your eyes, Monsieur.

[hornswoggle]

[ John's hand pause in their work, jacket spread open across his lap where he's been slowly adjusting the line of gold buttons. Rather than answer the immediate question, he looks at the costumes (outfits, right) coming together, the brush held in Bastien's hand, and then down to his own handiwork. ]

A daring something or demure something?

[ Which seems like a valid question, all things considered.

At a certain point, it seems a waste to try and smoothe the edges here. He can't afford to part with certain aspects of his image, and that unfortunately means he isn't going to blend in as easily as his fellows. John wavers between the idea of simply leaning into that or trying to grind down the rough edges for the duration of the evening. ]

[hassaran]

Daring, [ is Yseult's vote as she enters from one of the bedrooms, ] For both of them. Give the assembled gossips more entertaining stories to fix on. [ She glances at Bastien and then Alexandrie, a brow lifted in search of their opinions on manipulating the fickle attention of their countrymen.

She's fully dressed (having had the benefit of Darras's assistance) in a yellow gown that is flattering but to a trained eye merely a simplified facsimile of the fashion of two or three years' past. Hardly daring, but appropriate for the wife of a wealthy but at best upper-middle-class merchant from staid Starkhaven. She appears to have come in search of assistance with her hair--dyed a vibrant and surprisingly plausible red for the trip for reasons she has not explained--only half up and several clips and pins in hand. ]

[cozen]

Daring, [ Bastien echoes agreeably. He crosses one leg in pursuit of leaning in closer to Athessa's face and sketching around one of her eyes. When he's done, it will suggest the idea of a half mask without going quite so far as to slap the outline of one on her face, with asymmetrical rays to match the sun motif on her dress. ] Although Monsieur Silver's face is already so crowded, [ with hair, you know, ] we will have to stay simple, or it will become a mess. No one will be able to find his eyes.

[sulahnan]

[ Staying still has never before been so difficult. Even as she tries to move just her eyes, her head tilts ever so slightly with them. ]

Just paint on more eyes, then.