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Nov 10, 2013 8:47:29 GMT -5
Tag me @griflet
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Post by Griff Aubert on Aug 1, 2012 17:14:38 GMT -5
Griff Aubert bit the inside of his lip and tried to repress a smile. It wasn’t appropriate for him to be smiling, but the scene in front of him was very amusing. He bit down harder, almost a little too hard and it was pointless anyway because his smile was showing through and it occurred to him that that shouldn’t matter anyway. No one was going to do anything. He took a sip of his wine, fingers tapping against the metal slightly, eyes still focused on Philip and the man on his knees in front of them. Griff wasn’t entirely sure why the man – whose name escaped him – was currently on his knees nor did he really care. Philip had a good reason for it, so Griff was just going along with it. He didn’t concern himself with the politics. It wasn’t something that interested him, and even if it did, Philip wouldn’t let him do anything anyway.
He tilted his head to the side; arm out slightly so a servant could take his wine away. Philip must be in a foul mood, he was ordering a whipping for the man, removing his shirt himself which was...odd. He never got his hands dirty. It was all odd, really, Griff thought, taking a moment of reflection amidst the man’s cries. Griff had always been the second son, simply the younger brother of the future Duke of Verona, but after Lucan died Philip just appeared out of nowhere and offered Griff a choice. He could have the responsibility of the city himself, or he could make Philip a member of his court and hand him the responsibilities and a shadow of the power. Griff kept the title, of course, but his role as Duke was purely for show. It suited him fine. He didn’t care about the running of the city; he just wanted to enjoy himself. The only disadvantage was that he had to make an appearance on occasions like this and look all...serious and pious. Griff Aubert was probably the least serious and pious man in Europe.
“I don’t think I need to explain to you what will happen if you lie to me again.” The harshness of Philip’s tone pulled Griff away from his daydream, and he tried to look attentive, like he was completely aware of everything that was going on. “When you lie to me, you lie to the Duke and to the people of Verona.” Philip looked up at Griff, who nodded on cue. His amused smile was returning, everyone at court knew that last comment had been purely for show, to keep the pretence up for the peasants that their precious noble “betters” were still in power.
Philip looked down at the man for a moment before yanking him up roughly by the arm and putting a hand on his cheek. “On your way then.” The man half-hobbled off, shirt clutched to his chest and bent over from the pain surging through his body. Philip tutted before turning his attention to the crowd of people who had witnessed the whole scene. “The duke wishes to express his gratitude at you attendance, and he excuses you all.” The crowd slowly left the hall, leaving Philip and Griff alone. “I thought you’d appreciate a little entertainment before dinner.”
Griff rolled his eyes, but his apparent disapproval was betrayed by the hint of a smile on his lips. “Some of us aren’t quite as...primitive.”
“Well it keeps them happy.” Philip replied with a shrug and crossed the room to a table where the wine was kept and poured himself a drink. “Speaking of, I assume you have made all the necessary arrangements for tonight.”
Griff furrowed his eyebrows, before realisation dawned. “Oh that, yes of course.”
“Excellent, well, I shall go and make myself handsome then.”
“Surely you should have started last week.”
“And steal all the female attention? I thought I would save some of the more desperate for you.” He flashed him a grin before leaving the hall.
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Jul 31, 2013 11:44:21 GMT -5
Tag me @caitrin
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Post by Caitrin de Archer on Aug 1, 2012 18:30:45 GMT -5
By the time the young maid had finished, Lady Caitrin Archer felt like she was being suffocated and she couldn’t say that she was incredibly comfortable either. The maid had assured her the corset was part of the latest style, and it was how all the ladies in Verona were dressing. Well, Caitrin wasn’t a lady of Verona, and she enjoyed breathing. The corset was relaxed a little, so it still had some effect, but also so that Caitrin was sure that she wasn’t going to pass out from the lack of air. The maid looked a little put out her advice hadn’t been taken, but she didn’t say anything, and instead just fetched Caitrin her purple, fitted gown, and began to help her into it. It was a pretty little thing; she had brought it from her Uncle’s country home along with a selection of her finer gowns. She had to look the part, after all. The maid excused herself, and Caitrin waved her away as she made a grab for the wine which had been left on the top of her dresser. The maid had already helped her braid her hair, and place the latticed headdress around the rest of the hair to keep it in place. The headdress itself was stemmed with jewels, and the finest silk that her Uncle had managed to buy for her. She had wanted to wear her hair down, and loose, but she had rescinded that decision when her cousin had pointed out that they weren’t here to cause a stir, they were supposed to go unnoticed.
Well, what he had meant by that was that they were supposed to be noticed, but in a more productive way, or more that she was supposed to be noticed. That was the whole point in journeying this far north. She began to run her fingers along her jewellery, and pulled a face, she had been watching the women from her window, to get an idea of the fashions and so forth, but she had not paid attention to the jewellery that they had been wearing. When her cousin knocked on the door, she didn’t move, or even seem surprised, “Come in.” She called absently, and Dristan strode in; he was already ready, of course. Dristan didn’t seem surprised in the slightest that his cousin wasn’t ready to leave just yet. Though Caitrin was the only cousin he had contact with, she felt like more of a sister to him. His mother had died when he had been a young boy, so it had just been him and his father for many years. Caitrin had been sent to live with them at the age of three, as her parents could ill provide for her any longer.
“Are you not ready yet?” He asked, though Dristan already knew the answer. Caitrin rolled her eyes at him,
“I am nearly ready. You are so impatient sometimes, cousin.” Dristan gave her a trying look,
“It will hardly look good if we are late for the Duke’s own feast.” Caitrin couldn’t argue with that; everything hinged on tonight. If things went badly then they would have to think up a new plan. They had come here for a reason, and they weren’t leaving until their mission was fulfilled. Caitrin would have voiced her excitement about the mission to Dristan, but no doubt he would judge her for that. Eventually she did pick up a black choker which matched her dress, and also took the fan for good measure. They had managed to secure a personal invitation to tonight’s proceedings; they had been expecting as much since they arrived here. After all, Rouland Archer was an incredibly wealthy man, and money spoke louder than words. Caitrin took one last look in the mirror and nodded to her reflection; now she felt ready. Turning round, she extended her arm to Dristan who gave her a trying look. Caitrin pulled a face at her cousin, and waited for him to invite her to take his arm. She opened her fan with a flick of her wrist, and took her cousins arm as he led her outside, towards Duke Griff's feast.
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