TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

Comments

[noirant]

“A touch harsh, darling,” Felix drawls, glancing over from across the table. He appears to have been in conversation with a hawk-headed woman, who turns back to her plate at the interruption, beginning to snap up roast dormice. “In these days of ethical punishment, such crimes against ambiance are only met by stoning.”

He flashes a grin. If Richard wants to be in a poor mood, that’s his own business — but there are only so many times Felix can talk about nests and wind currents before he needs a break. Richard, at least, looks pretty fully human.

“Of course, then we really would have a funeral. Dreary, but perhaps the wake would be worth watching. You're new?"

[unnatural_animal]

Richard nods curtly in response to the question, not feeling the need to elaborate. He knows he must fairly radiate discontent and lingering confusion. It hardly seemed noteworthy He could easily point out half a dozen others near this table alone who were clearly in the same situation.

"Stoning is too good for such crimes against taste," he says, leaving it ambiguous as to whether he is serious or not, before drinking more of the wine, suffering through it in silence. There have been worse vintages, in England or on campaign, but that is still no excuse. "He would have been turned away at the door in my own court."

[noirant]

"Saints preserve us, if only the Curia kept to such strictures. At home he’d be the height of society, an avant grade foray into the deconstruction of melodic form...or some other arrant nonsense."

Felix rolls his eyes, clearly pleased. Shredding the best efforts of others is familiar ground, and he’ll seize upon it with aplomb. (What a dutiful public servant.)

He reaches for his wineglass — scarcely touched, he knows better than to much imbibe in public — and gestures with loosely-curled fingers.

“Do you play? I confess no hand at it myself,” Certainly not. The work of making music is to be lauded, and pursued only by those at the peaks and fringes of Melusinian society. Nobility can afford the idle leisure without being thought immoral, while artists cannot already be accused of keeping respectable company. A wizard must pretend between both. “But then, it takes no chef to tell the meat’s spoiled. Lord Felix Harrowgate.”

He offers, almost an afterthought. Under other circumstances, he’d be more inclined to leave off the honorific, but my own court speaks volumes enough; Felix would sooner have Richard’s title in turn.

[unnatural_animal]

"Richard, Duke of Aquitaine, Count of Poitou, son of Henry II, King of England." Richard gets the formalities out of the way quickly in the beginning, saying his titles, then brushing them aside with brusque, military efficiency. Ever the soldier. What good are claims to lands and men that do not exist in this place?

"I was taught to master as many forms of music as possible." As he speaks, he moves to sit near to the other man and his something in his manner gets a bit less cagey and hard. Music is a safe topic. A topic not fit for the common mob, but for those that can appreciate the finer things, the things that his mother worked so hard to make him appreciate as a child. "The south, Aquitaine in particular, has a fine tradition of music. We nurture it. I compose as well. It makes me less tolerant than I might be of those who waste talent," he continues, sparing another glance for the offending musician.

[noirant]

“You know,” Felix considers. “I think I’ve actually heard of England. I really must be getting used to it here.”

A prince, then, and not so different from Shannon for it — though in mannerism, he can’t assign any similarity. Richard is brusque as they come, perhaps speaking more to practical rule, or a harder reign. Too soon to leap to any conclusions, but that won’t stop Felix from examining the cliff.

He shifts a plate aside to leave him more room. Felix reaches for a bottle and tips it towards Richard’s glass as though to pour, brow raised in question.

“I’d be fascinated to hear it,” He hasn’t been that fond of music, since hearing the Virtu’s broken tones, but songs from another world offer a rare opportunity. “If you ever choose to grant an audience. It takes more skill to create than to copy, and I daresay we’d all be grateful for a break in this repetition. Which instruments do you usually employ?”

He’s thinking, too, of Ryan; Felix said that he’d bring musicians, and a promise is a promise, as little as the two are like to get along.

[unnatural_animal]

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.