December 31, 2010
Clouds chased each other through the gray sky, hunted by a fierce north wind. It blew her hair sideways, sable strands whipping across her face and behind her shoulders. She was wearing a variant on her Persian face, slightly more aristocratic, more arrogant in the arch of brow and nose. Hands wrapped in leather gloves held the straps of paper shopping bags, and a killer red purse matched her sky-high heels as she taptapped her way from the shop on the New Haven street.
The look fit in, at least with a good chunk of the crowd. With RhyDin's holiday season still in full swing the brick sidewalks were still packed with shoppers, even up here on the northern end of the New Haven district. South of the road the shops stuck close together, packed tightly into little lots, a collection of every kind of business that made any trendy neighborhood so trendy; to the north, as the road curved, the houses grew larger and further apart, surrounded by thickening woods. Alain's new home was close to the apex, still visible from the road and apparently protected by no more than a brick wall, a simple iron gate and the cold stare of two gargoyles, once used by churches throughout Europe to ward off evil spirits.
Alain was at the caf? across the street, visible in the window with his back to it. He was deep in conversation with a much older woman. Elia Thu'Garelin, old socialite and powerful executive at an elvish-owned company with a sizable stake in beer distribution. He rose when she stood, kissed her hand, shared a final joke with her, and returned to his seat when she left. The meeting had gone well enough, and he ordered another cup of coffee and returned to his newspaper. He looked comfortable... vulnerable. Life was good, and he was growing to expect it, for the time being.
Tick-tap-tick-tap of high heels rapped over the sidewalk, into the door of the cafe with a merry jingle of the bell over the door. One of many seeking refuge from the cold, she placed an order at the counter, paid with a soft throaty laugh for the teenage male behind the counter. She turned, surveyed the crowd that filled the small tables and left few open seats. But there was one after all, wasn't there?
The rapping of her heels stopped next to DeMuer's table. Shopping bags rustled as she sank into the open seat, smiled across the table at the Baron. "I hope you don't mind, darling, it's simply packed in here."
Anywhere else in the city, or at any other time, the young man sitting alone at the table with his coffee and newspaper would have looked over his shoulder or scanned any interior mirrors, any reflections in the glass at the sound of the jingling bell. He would then have been paying closer attention to the tone of her laugh... but only a belated warning from Kael alerted him to her presence at all, and he lowered his newspaper in time to see her sit.
Alain smiled warmly at her arrival, for appearances' sake, and through it asked her, "What the hell do you want?"
"A caramel macchiato and biscotti." She leaned back in the seat and crossed one leg over the other. While she looked at him, she started to pull off her gloves, one finger at a time. "It's freezing outside. But you don't have to worry about that, darling, I've already ordered."
"I'd think you'd be used to the cold by now." He watched her eyes steadily, and kept the smile he didn't at all feel carefully in place. "This isn't your neck of the woods... much like Dalibad. You remember how that went for you. This won't go any better." It carried serious weight but lacked confidence; she had invaded his home, and it unnerved him.
She looked delighted as she tugged free the first glove, tossed it onto the table carelessly. "Whatever do you mean, Alain? Did something happen in Dalibad that I'm not aware of?" The teenage boy hurried over with her macchiato in a white mug and a small plate of biscotti. Her smile of thanks for the boy was sin and promise and he blushed as he stumbled back to the counter.
"Don't be coy. It doesn't suit you." His was a very wide mug, but he raised it to sip with one hand and kept the other on his thigh.
Once the second glove tumbled next to the first, she picked up her own mug. "Believe it or not, darling, I wasn't being coy." Now her smile was faintly amused, over the tasting sip of coffee. "But as for what I'm doing here? Why, I was shopping. You see the store right there?" A nod of her head indicated one diagonal across the street. "There's a designer who sells her work through that gallery, one I've grown quite fond of. Exquisite color sense."
"I know it. We've picked up a few of her pieces for our home," he added, significantly. "You know... it's been about a year since I visited the Throne. I haven't seen you at all for a very long time... so forgive me if I'm a little surprised to find you in my neighborhood."
He set his mug back down, carefully, and shifted. Stared at her. "As surprised as I was to hear your name lately. I hoped our business was finished, after your employer took his..." He considered. "...sabbatical. But you've become a self-made woman now... well." There was another pause, and he added, rather unkindly, "As much as you can be."
"You really should stop by the Throne again, darling. We've redesigned a bit, upgraded our image. Why, I'm even considering a second casino. It's simply a matter of location." Another sip of coffee while she appeared to consider the final statement. "Of course, isn't everything?"
He considered her offer. There was no stopping it now; the dance had started anew, or, more to the point, it had never stopped as he once thought it had. "I think I could arrange a visit, as long as you smooth things over with your Security Chief first. He and I had a... misunderstanding in the past, you see. I wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea."
Sudden mirth lit her expression, just short of a laugh. "Oh, dear. I'll arrange it, darling, but I do think the man may never forgive me. I'm a perfect trial to his tight ship, recently. Biscotti?" She offered the small plate with a lift of her eyebrows.
"No thank you," he said, and as soon as the waiter came by, he paid both their bills. "You know... I first noticed this house a couple of years ago," as he stood, collected his coat and his newspaper. "Sonja and I came here once. You may remember her. Sweet girl -- shame what happened to her."
He studied her carefully as he passed by their table on his way to the door. "And it'd be terrible if it happened to anyone else. Take care now. I'm sure I'll see you around."
"I do hope so, darling." There was something odd about her eyes, the shimmer of blue - but maybe that was reflection of the light through the window? Because dark chocolate was the color of her serene gaze as she lifted her mug for another sip. "Have a wonderful New Year. And congratulations."
He slowed for maybe half of a step, with a small turn of his head... then he left.
((Edited from live play with Alain DeMuer, with thanks!))
Clouds chased each other through the gray sky, hunted by a fierce north wind. It blew her hair sideways, sable strands whipping across her face and behind her shoulders. She was wearing a variant on her Persian face, slightly more aristocratic, more arrogant in the arch of brow and nose. Hands wrapped in leather gloves held the straps of paper shopping bags, and a killer red purse matched her sky-high heels as she taptapped her way from the shop on the New Haven street.
The look fit in, at least with a good chunk of the crowd. With RhyDin's holiday season still in full swing the brick sidewalks were still packed with shoppers, even up here on the northern end of the New Haven district. South of the road the shops stuck close together, packed tightly into little lots, a collection of every kind of business that made any trendy neighborhood so trendy; to the north, as the road curved, the houses grew larger and further apart, surrounded by thickening woods. Alain's new home was close to the apex, still visible from the road and apparently protected by no more than a brick wall, a simple iron gate and the cold stare of two gargoyles, once used by churches throughout Europe to ward off evil spirits.
Alain was at the caf? across the street, visible in the window with his back to it. He was deep in conversation with a much older woman. Elia Thu'Garelin, old socialite and powerful executive at an elvish-owned company with a sizable stake in beer distribution. He rose when she stood, kissed her hand, shared a final joke with her, and returned to his seat when she left. The meeting had gone well enough, and he ordered another cup of coffee and returned to his newspaper. He looked comfortable... vulnerable. Life was good, and he was growing to expect it, for the time being.
Tick-tap-tick-tap of high heels rapped over the sidewalk, into the door of the cafe with a merry jingle of the bell over the door. One of many seeking refuge from the cold, she placed an order at the counter, paid with a soft throaty laugh for the teenage male behind the counter. She turned, surveyed the crowd that filled the small tables and left few open seats. But there was one after all, wasn't there?
The rapping of her heels stopped next to DeMuer's table. Shopping bags rustled as she sank into the open seat, smiled across the table at the Baron. "I hope you don't mind, darling, it's simply packed in here."
Anywhere else in the city, or at any other time, the young man sitting alone at the table with his coffee and newspaper would have looked over his shoulder or scanned any interior mirrors, any reflections in the glass at the sound of the jingling bell. He would then have been paying closer attention to the tone of her laugh... but only a belated warning from Kael alerted him to her presence at all, and he lowered his newspaper in time to see her sit.
Alain smiled warmly at her arrival, for appearances' sake, and through it asked her, "What the hell do you want?"
"A caramel macchiato and biscotti." She leaned back in the seat and crossed one leg over the other. While she looked at him, she started to pull off her gloves, one finger at a time. "It's freezing outside. But you don't have to worry about that, darling, I've already ordered."
"I'd think you'd be used to the cold by now." He watched her eyes steadily, and kept the smile he didn't at all feel carefully in place. "This isn't your neck of the woods... much like Dalibad. You remember how that went for you. This won't go any better." It carried serious weight but lacked confidence; she had invaded his home, and it unnerved him.
She looked delighted as she tugged free the first glove, tossed it onto the table carelessly. "Whatever do you mean, Alain? Did something happen in Dalibad that I'm not aware of?" The teenage boy hurried over with her macchiato in a white mug and a small plate of biscotti. Her smile of thanks for the boy was sin and promise and he blushed as he stumbled back to the counter.
"Don't be coy. It doesn't suit you." His was a very wide mug, but he raised it to sip with one hand and kept the other on his thigh.
Once the second glove tumbled next to the first, she picked up her own mug. "Believe it or not, darling, I wasn't being coy." Now her smile was faintly amused, over the tasting sip of coffee. "But as for what I'm doing here? Why, I was shopping. You see the store right there?" A nod of her head indicated one diagonal across the street. "There's a designer who sells her work through that gallery, one I've grown quite fond of. Exquisite color sense."
"I know it. We've picked up a few of her pieces for our home," he added, significantly. "You know... it's been about a year since I visited the Throne. I haven't seen you at all for a very long time... so forgive me if I'm a little surprised to find you in my neighborhood."
He set his mug back down, carefully, and shifted. Stared at her. "As surprised as I was to hear your name lately. I hoped our business was finished, after your employer took his..." He considered. "...sabbatical. But you've become a self-made woman now... well." There was another pause, and he added, rather unkindly, "As much as you can be."
"You really should stop by the Throne again, darling. We've redesigned a bit, upgraded our image. Why, I'm even considering a second casino. It's simply a matter of location." Another sip of coffee while she appeared to consider the final statement. "Of course, isn't everything?"
He considered her offer. There was no stopping it now; the dance had started anew, or, more to the point, it had never stopped as he once thought it had. "I think I could arrange a visit, as long as you smooth things over with your Security Chief first. He and I had a... misunderstanding in the past, you see. I wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea."
Sudden mirth lit her expression, just short of a laugh. "Oh, dear. I'll arrange it, darling, but I do think the man may never forgive me. I'm a perfect trial to his tight ship, recently. Biscotti?" She offered the small plate with a lift of her eyebrows.
"No thank you," he said, and as soon as the waiter came by, he paid both their bills. "You know... I first noticed this house a couple of years ago," as he stood, collected his coat and his newspaper. "Sonja and I came here once. You may remember her. Sweet girl -- shame what happened to her."
He studied her carefully as he passed by their table on his way to the door. "And it'd be terrible if it happened to anyone else. Take care now. I'm sure I'll see you around."
"I do hope so, darling." There was something odd about her eyes, the shimmer of blue - but maybe that was reflection of the light through the window? Because dark chocolate was the color of her serene gaze as she lifted her mug for another sip. "Have a wonderful New Year. And congratulations."
He slowed for maybe half of a step, with a small turn of his head... then he left.
((Edited from live play with Alain DeMuer, with thanks!))