swishy in her satin and tat (Open)

[Edie]

She stood in the center of the room, hands firmly clasped behind her back; her total lack of movement was in complete contrast to the ever-circulating mess of servants. The aesthetician in her appreciated how the overwhelming colour palette of the Reginien royal livery was disrupted by the black and green crests her own few maids and footmen wore. The swirling image was well matched with the various strands of conversation: how long was mistress intending to stay; did mistress require any specific sustenance; would the mistress’s horses be well treated in the stables; where was the mistress’s quarters; should mistress be expected at dinner that evening or would she prefer to rest after her travels; and so forth.

To any number of outsiders, the amount of fuss over such a young, frail girl would have seemed unnecessary. And it was true, the visitor did not possess the most assuming of presences: her face was still rounded by childhood, her colouring quite anemic, and the few curves she did have were concealed beneath her heavy traveling cloak. Yet her light eyes glinted with an intelligence not considered feminine, and the way they appraised the main hall made one question whether she truly was just on the brink of womanhood.

There could be no doubt this was the Countess Theo.

After informing the housekeeper that she did not require a seat—in fact, she required it even less now than she had the first five times it had been offered—the doors to the servant’s quarters were closed for the last time. Finally, she was alone. Theo preferred it that way, which was why she had refused the chair, even though she was exhausted from her journey. Truly, there was nothing the girl wanted more than to curl up on this admittedly exquisite floor and fall asleep. But Mother had raised her to have a certain amount of dignity, which she would not find grubbing about on these cool marble tiles. So she contented herself with slowly lifting one foot, then the other, and rotating her weary ankles. Her eyes continued to dart about the room, taking in her surroundings one small impression at a time.

Well. She was not generally inclined to agree with any of Daddy dearest’s opinions—on the contrary, she often went out of her way to have an opposing viewpoint. In the matter of Regina, however, Theo had to admit she, too, considered it a pointless sort of kingdom. Certainly, the countrymen hid it as best they could, playing up the picturesque villages and the vapidly sweet persons who populated them. Yet the ruling class hid behind their simpers and airs, preferring to play the innocent then to actually do anything. Such as rid themselves of their Silian threat indefinitely, for a purely hypothetical example. And that seemingly steadfast economy? She’d only been in the order forsaken place a week, but the girl had discovered several small ways it could be crushed, or at least disrupted long enough to give her kingdom the advantage. If she was interested in assisting the King, then this would be the way to do so. But she wasn’t, so she wouldn’t.

What she was interested in were her own personal affairs, with an emphasis on the word affairs. The Countess had thought there would be plenty of time to rid herself of that cur she was to call Husband, and then persuade him to take her in. Evidently this was not the case. ‘Plenty of time’ had now come to mean ‘one week, give or take the time required to arrive,’ thanks to Daddy dearest’s bloody cease-fire and the shipping off of his eldest son to woo the Reginien bitch. She lamented her lack of spies; the few servants in the household she could call her own were devoted to her through and through, but it was impossible to send them off for information all of the time. No matter now. She was just thankful the Count had mumbled something about his possible impending betrothal, in between telling her exactly what horrors he would be imparting on her that evening.

Theo straightened up again, and closed her eyes. It was only a matter of moments before someone would come to greet her, to welcome her to this horrible kingdom. To which she would smile, and thank them for their hospitality, on such brief notice. No, there was no need to send for the Count; he was not expected to join her for this visit. Yes, she was a royal indiscretion, how kind of you to inquire. Then, introductions having been made, she could go to her quarters to freshen up, and further plan how best to convince him[/b] to help her.

Would Rian recognize her, she wondered. Did he remember his own, sweet, partial sister?[/size]

[ollie]

“that was very good. but do it again, and better.”

there was a severity in the tone that implied both familiarity and distance, that of a teacher you’ve been tutored by your whole life. the man in the middle of the riding ring turned slowly, eyes on his grown student, who was mounted on a magnificent bay stallion. he was a pure beast, made of rippling muscles and gilded gates, but there was an obvious strain to keep him in his place. his nostrils flared with exertion and grunts left him as the canter was hastened to a gallop, his rider’s heels jammed down as he was led onwards.

“now make him soar.”

the simplicity of the phrase could have little effect on others, but the woman riding the beast reached back with her crop and slapped his rump with the crop, which made him take the gallop to a little faster pace. there, as the rider pulled herself into what is called a two point—the position in which a rider bears her horse jumping—the stallion saw the jump. his breath came quicker, his gates more intent, and finally, he leapt over the jump, looking as though suspended in air until he came back towards the ground. he took the jolt in bounds and soon he was back in the canter, breathing huffing as his rider soothed him to a trot and finally a walk. you could hear her praising him and patting his shoulder as his chewed his bit, vexed by the work he had endured.

“beauteous.” the man smiled up at his student. father and daughter looked at each other—the nothams exchanged a look only their own—and she reached down to take his hand before letting go as the stallion passed on. the love of horses, that they shared, just as much as how favored they were by their royalty.

---

odette had bathed and changed since the lesson, but the earthy smell of horse still clung to her, more ethereal than the smells that some of the stable’s men bore. her eyes wandered the walls of the corridors, and she paused as she heard the sound of a flurry of skirts. she turned just in time to find the source.

last week, odette’s mother’s closest servant had been searching for a woman to aid for her daughter. being a lady-in-waiting herself, odette had never needed servants in truth; she was highly self-sufficient, and while some people thought she was “lower class,” anyone that knew of the reginien court knew that her father had placed her next to the princess to know as much, if not more, as the royalty of her generation. he had never hoped she would become a queen someday, but he had certainly gotten her prepared for being first in line of these gossiping attacks. and she was ready.

the servant she’d been appointed was a lovely girl, one of the few feminine ones that didn’t get under odette’s skin and itch like a horrendous rash. she was an immensely sweet girl, named molly, and it was almost impossible for odette to consider her capable of saying one rash, rude thing to anyone. she’d heard of it, but she’d always known it to be untrue—the little brunette was as frail and as uninterested in gossip as a field mouse, and just as unimposing.

“lady notham!” she gasped, voice coming quick. she was a slender thing, very birdlike, but she was a bit out of shape—she would always come to odette gasping for air from exertion, and it made odette wonder where in hell she could possibly be coming so far from, and why so fast. “a silian countess has arrived. i figured you might want to know.” she said, voice dropping a few octaves, still gulping in air.

odette nodded. “ah, a silian bitch. come,” she pulled on the wrist of her small servant, “it’s time to make our move.” with that she led her servant onwards. the two were an odd pair, odette with a supple, curving body and hair that had been bleached from work in the sun, and molly, who was as small and slight was a bird and sweet-faced like a doll, mousy hair a testament to unfortunate bad breeding. the soul of a saint, though—while odette had questionable ethics when it came to treating anyone of silian breeding. her nose crinkled as she came towards the main hall, though the expression was soon wiped clean.

she picked up the pale, pearly cream skirt of her dress, descending the stares elegantly but with a look of purpose. when she reached theo, she didn’t make even the smallest of inclination to bow, and pinched molly before she could even begin to move to. her servant sent her a vexed look before letting it go, looking down at her meager skirts to avert her gaze from whatever odette was about to bring upon the countess. there was a sharp look to her eyes, and she smiled smoothly once she recognized the woman. “ah, the bastard child of silus. i first heard you were inbred, but now i find out your father simply didn’t want you…” she sniffed, crinkling her nose a moment, glancing at molly. she looked aghast, her mouth dropped open, and odette pushed it closed with her index finger before looking back at theo. “i apologize if the castle doesn’t seem familiar to you. here, we don’t have a specific room designated for inbreeding. that must ruin your whole agenda.”

the joke of silians being heavily inbred had been practically born into reginien customs, and odette had always been taught of the embarrassing history of silus. she’d been taught the histories of many countries, including her own, but silus especially—even before the war, her father had had a deep-pitted hatred of the silians, and now it seemed to be an advantage no one had ever intended.

and that was how the nothams dominated.

[/justify][/size]

[Edie]

There: with her eyes shut, t'was significantly easier to collect herself, without visual distractions. She took a deep breath, to further calm herself, then exhaled in a long hiss. She was cold. Sssssss. She was hard. Sssssss. She was unfeeling. Sssssss. Nothing could rattle her, disappoint her, make her feel anything other than cool disinterest. Sssssss. Was that a rustling of fabric she heard?

Theo's eyes snapped open, her thoughts racing as the sound grew near. The swishing element was rather much akin to that of a lady's skirts. Judging by the clarity of the noise, the material was heavy, and undoubtedly expensive. This was a titled woman, or else an actor who merely played one. Regardless, it was clear the bloody welcoming committee was on its way. And quickly. The girl turned to face the noise, composing her features into a nobly blank expression. Despite its hint of haughtiness—or perhaps because of it—the face suited her, far more than a girlish grin or shy smile ever could. Would one attribute that to her heritage, she wondered briefly. Or was it best to consider it due to her, ahem, domestic life of the past four years? Ah, well. Utterly irrelevant at the present.

She was vaguely surprised to discover that in addition to the noblewoman she had most correctly heard approach, there was also what appeared to be one of the woman's servants. Her shock, however, was comperable to that a wife feels upon having someone tell her her husband has a mistress, when this is information she has possessed long enough to get over the matter. A mistress...the Countess should be so lucky. Regardless. The gown of the familiar—yet unplaceable—lady had evidently concealed whatever faint sound her maid's skirts might have produced. Therefore, the girl's failure to determine exactly how many persons were on their way to greet her was not truly a failure t'all. Besides, the small maid, though likely older than herself, was undoubtedly of little concern in the grand scheme of things; she seemed weak. Not like Theo. And not like this—buxom noble, if the glint in her eyes and her obvious refusal to bow was any indication.

Being a creature most dutifully raised by Mother to have impeccable manners and an acute sense of irony, the girl responded to the situation as she would have if her greeter possessed any idea of social niceties: she placed one foot behind the other, swept out her skirts, and sunk into a most grand curtsy. True, the gesture might have had a twinge more mockery in it than was necessary, but she was Silian, for goodness sake. Thus, it so happened that t'was in this position, with her head lowered graciously and quite near to the cool floor she had only too recently been admiring, that Theo heard what one could only assume was her welcome to the kingdom.

Of course, she was not fully experienced with Reginien customs, but was it not common courtesy to avoid calling one's guest a bastard flatout, or clumsily imply one's guest to have incestuous tendencies? Granted, both points were on the most part true in regards to the Countess, but that was irrelevant to the topic of manners. If this lady had hit upon any more intimate points in her accusations, the girl was not certain she could have avoided tackling her and settling the matter with brute force. As it were, however, she had done no actual hurt to Theo's frozen feelings. After all, the issue of her parentage was not one she shied away from—her repeated, blunt discussion of it had led to her bloody marriage! She simply had not expected someone other than herself to use the plainest term to describe who she was, and certainly not in the first few minutes of acquaintanceship.

In regards to the latter issue? While it did bear a—passing resemblance to her reasons for traveling here, the girl was certain it was a crude generalization of the Silian ruling class, and not truly directed at her at all. Yes, it was ever so slightly troublesome, to know just how closely 'inbreeding' correlated to her actual plan; but it was a lucky guess, and nothing more, seeing as she had never told anyone about it. So, even though her intentions had quite obviously been more devious, this woman had caused no more harm than reveal herself to be a Notham. Oh, yes—judging by her youth, and evident penchant for attire comparable to that of a harlot, Theo would attest this to be no one lesser or greater than Lady Odette Notham herself. And here she thought she wouldn't have any fun in Regina.

The Countess raised her head; t'would have appeared she hadn't heard any part of Odette's greeting, if not for a most devious quirking of a brow. "Why, my most gracious Lady Notham," she cooed, in imitation of a breathy teenaged female. "If you are aware that his majesty the Silian King is the man I must call 'Father', then you must undoubtedly realize the majority of persons are quite willing to blame me for his lack of discretion. You must be rather comfortable, in such a large group as all of that."

Theo got to her feet, as she continued, "If I was interested in 'inbreeding', as you quite delicately refer to it, I would thank you most kindly for the knowledge there is no specified place for it to occur. However, were that my intention, I would most likely ask you where the room for general adultery is located—seeing as that room would undoubtedly serve the same purpose, and you so clearly would know precisely where it's located."

And that was how Silian nobility regained their advantage.