The unspoken question of whether or not Felix is allowed to pour a drink for him is answered with an equally unspoken, offhand gesture of assent. It is clear that Richard is a man used to having others preform similar small services for him and that he hardly, if ever, finds them worthy of note.
"I was raised in the queen's court as a boy and my mother is, in all things, a thorough woman. She ensured I was taught to play the lute, harp, rebec, flute and drums, as well as to sing." He drinks from his refilled glass, thoughtful. "My great-grandfather was the first troubadour. The family tradition has to be carried on."
If he weren't so serious and oddly passionate when he speaks about music, it might be almost funny. The large, scarred hands that curl around his goblet hardly look suited to something so delicate. Even his face -though handsome- looks almost too violent to be capable of it. It's easy to classify him. He is a man of blunt, nonthinking action and war.
But that would be to ignore the consummate care and concern that has gone into every aspect of his appearance. The cut of his hair, the trim on his cloak, the fine fabrics that he wears... Everything has been specially chosen by no one but Richard. He is a man who needs to be surrounded by the very finest things and that love of beauty, that carefully cultivated eye and ear for art, shows itself in a thousand almost invisible to anyone not looking beyond the warrior. And the world can thank Eleanor for that duality. He is entirely her creature.
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"I was raised in the queen's court as a boy and my mother is, in all things, a thorough woman. She ensured I was taught to play the lute, harp, rebec, flute and drums, as well as to sing." He drinks from his refilled glass, thoughtful. "My great-grandfather was the first troubadour. The family tradition has to be carried on."
If he weren't so serious and oddly passionate when he speaks about music, it might be almost funny. The large, scarred hands that curl around his goblet hardly look suited to something so delicate. Even his face -though handsome- looks almost too violent to be capable of it. It's easy to classify him. He is a man of blunt, nonthinking action and war.
But that would be to ignore the consummate care and concern that has gone into every aspect of his appearance. The cut of his hair, the trim on his cloak, the fine fabrics that he wears... Everything has been specially chosen by no one but Richard. He is a man who needs to be surrounded by the very finest things and that love of beauty, that carefully cultivated eye and ear for art, shows itself in a thousand almost invisible to anyone not looking beyond the warrior. And the world can thank Eleanor for that duality. He is entirely her creature.