nighttime tea party [odette & berlus]

[ollie]

[/size][/justify][/ul]

[dede]

Berlus was still in his evening outfit -one of his favorite ensembles, comprised of a blue coat overlapping his vest and other articles, complimented in colors of black and silver- and the delicate lamps about his room flickered jovially as they kept the deep, nightly shadows at bay. He was reading at the small, cherry wood desk in the corner, musing through three different tomes he had gathered from the castle’s generous library earlier that day, with the permission of Princess Adalia, of course. One book detailed a brief account of modern history, while the other two books dabbled in local geography and regional climate. While he certainly enjoyed cracking open a leather-bound cover from time to time, he was not so much an avid participant by nature than a hobbyist, and tonight, he failed to find anything interesting about the physical lay of the land, nor its customary weather patterns.

Stifling a rough yawn, he set the books aside and swung his boots from the polished desktop. He ought to retire before the moon fully waned again, especially since he was already tired, for the past two nights had proven fruitless in his endeavors for a decent night’s rest. They were instead crammed with endless hours of thought, personal berating, and recounts of guilt and regret. It had been a simple task so far to avoid Odette, even in her presence. Usually coupled with Princess Adalia, it was not difficult to fix his attention on her rather than the lady-in-waiting…

He massaged his aching eyes. Well, he had not bothered to look at her more than a passing glace en route to the Princess. However, for all the moments he had not addressed Lady Odette, or had just plainly ignored her, he had considered her at least twice as much. She was usually the subject of his midnight contemplations, along with that first night… that whole mishap, and the uncomfortable, rather protective attachment to her that had been plaguing him, in general.

Though he had not been back to the kitchen since then; he had been carefully moderating his appetite, making sure he never left the table with an empty stomach, least he would have another craving for carrots again. And he was confident that Odette had not returned either. She probably would not be their tonight, he supposed with false cheer, as he doused his lights and stepped back out into the hallway. It was in their best interest not to get caught in emptied rooms again.

Maybe some tea would ease his punding head, and lull his tired thoughts. He needed some rest.

Even after one trip, Berlus knew the path to the kitchen with an uncanny certainty, for he had replayed those faithful events multiple times in his head, ridiculing his moments of weakness, when he did not turn back… Growling, he shook his head. Tea. Some tea would be nice, perhaps spiked with a bit of rum to silence his troublesome mind.

He approached the kitchen, combing his hair restlessly back with one hand while his jaw cracked under the strain of another monstrous yawn. The dying hiss of the kettle reached his ears, the rustle of conscientious footfalls slowing his own long steps. Well, somebody had apparently beaten him to it. Blinking away the lingering traces of exhaustion, he stepped quietly in between the rows of sinks, cutting boards and cupboards, taking care not to let the heels of his boots clip against the stone floor while he gazed accusingly into the half light.

It was her. It was her. Not only was it her, but it was her, again. What was she doing here? And yet, he should have expected it. He should have known. He should have prepared himself or, or…

Berlus halted, too intimidated to move any closer.“Odette?” He called quietly, a gentle frown settling into his confused expression as he strung his hands behind his back.

[ollie]

[/color] she wondered.

“Pour yourself some if you’d like, the bags are up in the cabinets.” she said, now sinking into her relaxed mindset. She disappeared into the maze of the kitchen and returned with a small circular table, putting it down beside the chairs and turning them towards the table. She looked him over, the blue garb, before taking her teacup and taking a seat on one of the chairs. “Would you mind getting me a spoon?” She’d put her aversion to him after the night behind her, already relaxed around him.

Still, her mind was going a mile a minute about him. Had he gotten over her? Was he really stepping aside for Rian? Or was he thinking of ways of stopping the prince, too? So far, her ideas had been useless, mostly trivial and nothing to stop him. All she could think of was convincing Adalia to secretly marry someone else, or to refuse to marry. To lead as Queen and marry once she had fallen in love and was simply ready. But these were politics she was tampering with, and not easy ones at that. While she was in a good place in the court, as a woman that place could come tumbling down within the moments a rumor spread like wildfire.

Trying to put her mind at ease, to stop thinking about it, she looked from the tea swirling in her teacup to him. She could say something, couldn’t she, to make it easier? To make this a little more up front would be easier on the both of them, wouldn’t it? “Please stop avoiding me during the day,” she said softly, pulling her hair out of her collar, “At least talk to me. It’s driving me mad, and not in the good way. You also drive me mad in the good way.” A sly, very her smile slid onto her lips, and she figured now the ice was broken. She could work with this, at least.
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[dede]

Though the slight frown in his lips creased away into a solid line, his eyebrows contracted uncertainly over his clouded blue eyes, and he did not move from his rigid position. This young woman, once again dressed only in her alluring nightgown, neither covered in shame nor by her thick cloak, was asking him to tea in the middle of the night, as if sharing drinks at ungodly hours was an activity she regularly participated in. Berlus watched with veiled interest and depressed amusement as Odette rustled about the kitchen, hefting the table next to the chairs.

“Would you mind getting me a spoon?”

With a half-hearted roll of his eyes, and a expelling a defeated sigh, he edged past the table and went to the stove, picking up the extra ceramic cup that Odette had washed. Well, with such a pressing request as a spoon, he could not leave just yet, could he?

However, while there was little harm in chatting over cups of steaming tea, Berlus was eager to make this visit short. Pleasant, as that night had been up to a point, he did not want to end up in another hazardous position. Blackmail was nothing he was especially fond of.

After rummaging through the indicated cupboard and helping himself to the hot water, still boiling noisily in the teapot, he explored various drawers lined neatly with cutlery. Passing up the selections of fine antique silver and bronze, he picked out two smooth, wooden spoons. He returned to Odette with a steaming mug of chamomile, the sweet aroma curling from the amber water in silvery wisps as he listened to her demure pleads. Now that Odette was here, he opted for a non-alcoholic version, free of his intended rum or wine. He could hold his liquor quite well, but sober or not, he was not fond of taking any more risks with the present company.

“At least talk to me. It’s driving me mad, and not in the good way. You also drive me mad in the good way.”

Bereft of a response, he stared at her for a moment, blandly examining her attractive smile, and the dark hair spilling over her shoulders. He set the spoons and his brimming mug on the tabletop before easing slowly into his chair. “I do apologize, Odette, for my behavior.” He began, placing his hands against the warming sides of his cup. “But my desire to make conversation is towed by my refusal to give Prince Rian further, and more marketable material.”

His seemingly insensitive forwardness was suddenly muddled as he blushed; hurriedly finding more comfort it crushed tea leaves caught to his spoon. “That and, well… You are a… a difficult person to talk to, Odette. In your presence, I worry that opening my mouth would only allow for something ridiculous or foolish t-to come out.”

[ollie]

[/color] It wasn’t an exciting beginning, but it was an apology all the same, one that she would accept. “But my desire to make conversation is towed by my refusal to give Prince Rian further, and more marketable material.” Marketable, eh? She didn’t say anything, though, still watching him with a calm curiosity.

When he blushed, her slow smile returned, watching him distract himself with his tea. She stirred her own tea for a moment, glancing up at him when he began speaking again. “That and, well… You are a… a difficult person to talk to, Odette. In your presence, I worry that opening my mouth would only allow for something ridiculous or foolish t-to come out.”

Odette frowned, taking a sip of her tea before speaking, crossing her legs. “I’m not a difficult person to talk to, in reality,” she said, still looking at her tea, but her eyes returned to him. He had a magnetic quality about him, which she found just a little unusual. Her eyes flickered over him, searching for something, though she wasn’t sure what. “You’re the most articulate person I know. When Prince Rian threatened us, you didn’t miss a beat.” Her confidence seemed to falter when she said that, and she again tried to push her mind away. But she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried.

Studying the swirl of her tea, she looked back at him when her thoughts had come to one specific point of that night. “Were you embarrassed by me? Ashamed by being caught with a lady-in-waiting, rather than someone of importance?”
[/justify][/size][/ul]

[dede]

He was not expecting compliments, so when she commented on his ability of steady deliverance under pressure, even in her faltering tone, his interest in his cooling tea diminished next to a wave of surprise. He did not consider managing words while fearing an apocalyptic doom encroaching on his near future any sort of skill. If Prince Rian had been given the same comment, Berlus was sure that he would have attempted to brush it off too. It was just another aspect of his… lineal occupation. He could be as stammering and unsure as he was trying to talk to Odette or any other casual member of the court, as long as he could respond admirably in the proper circumstances. Such a need had been pounded quite early into his, some time ago, blonde head.

Evan as he mulled silently over his explanation, whatever edits or additions he could add to his long-winded exasperation, it did not alarm him quite like her next question. Previously, he had entertained himself by stirring his tea, fixing his eyes rigidly on the smooth rim of the cup, rather than at Odette’s enchanting features, her relaxed posture draped neatly in her nightgown as she forcibly pinned him down with her rather startling inquiry.

“Were you embarrassed by me? Ashamed by being caught with a lady-in-waiting, rather than someone of importance?”

“What?” He retaliated loudly, nearly knocking over his tea in his shock as his hands jerked suddenly. Steadying the wobbling cup, warm liquid dribbling onto his hands, he stared incomprehensively at Odette, unsure of her current intent. After wiping his fingers across the sleeve of his coat, he continued weakly. “No… N-no, that is- I would never…” He was babbling again. But what else could he manage. He could have been seduced by a scullery maid or the queen herself, and then caught by the entire guard, and it would have not made any difference to his continuing, adverse reaction… not that he would fall for anyone such as those. Odette was an isolated case. Extremely isolated and singular case.

In all of his political ventures, he had never fallen. At all. And never like this.

“Odette…“ Pausing for a shake of his head, he reached over, resting a hand earnestly over one of hers. “No. It is not that. It is just, if… if we were discovered by someone less compromising, or what have you- if something happened to you, I did not know if I could be there for you. And for whatever reason, if I could not,” Berlus blushed again, looking away as he retracted his arm. “I do not know what I would do. W-what I could do for you.”

Well that sounded ridiculous. Even in truth, it still sounded terrible, like a petty theater show.

[ollie]

[/color] Again, he was stammering, and she wasn’t sure whether it was that she was saying the wrong things or that it was her presence. She opted for her saying the wrong things, as he was only blushing when he fumbled for words. It was difficult, to comprehend Berlus and his quirks, but that was part of why she liked him. One of the many qualities of his that she adored.

She really needed to stop with reminding herself of that.

“Odette…” Then, his hand was on hers and she hoped that somehow he’d stopped with his feeling of awkwardness, just for long enough for her to get her Berlus back. She didn’t like that he doubted himself, or anything he said. “No. It is not that. It is just, if… if we were discovered by someone less compromising, or what have you – if something happened to you, I did not know if I could be there for you. And for whatever reason, if I could not,” again he was blushing, and now he took away his hand, giving her a hollowed-out feeling, “I do not know what I would do. W-what I could do for you.”

She leaned towards him now, finding his hand with her own and linking their fingers. “Now, what I would really like you to do for me is let go. Just stop worrying. We’re alone – everyone’s been working hard and everyone’s too tired to even consider going down to the kitchen. That’s why I’m here. Why I’m not worrying.” Her voice was quiet and a secretive smile slid on, her thumb brushing the back of his hand. “I’m also not worrying because no matter how hard I try, when I look back I don’t regret it. It felt right, and natural, and you know that, too. It was one of those few things in life I’ve ever experienced and not doubted it a second.”

Odette watched him for a moment, looking at his hair before back at him, studying his features now that there was a little light in the kitchen. Without thinking about it, she leaned in and kissed him, just barely, on the lips before leaning back, smiling softly. Not in a mischievous way, not in a scary way, just a happy smile. “It’s just… natural.”
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[dede]

“It’s just… natural.”

As Odette sat back with that tantalizing smile of hers, quietly honest and sinfully adorable, Berlus could not help but agree. It did feel extraordinarily natural. Nothing else in comparison ever had- maybe it was because the entire experience was so new to him, or perhaps they really were made for each other, but something had molded smoothly into place. That night, a small part of him had breathed for the first time, yearning for her gentle kisses and sparkling laughter.

But then his own, half smile of utter infatuation withdrew into a grimace, and he gently untangled his fingers from hers and rubbed at his temple. Their love was unabashedly natural. But treason, merciless exposure, political turmoil were not.

“Odette…”

He shook his head, wondering if he should just leave before he could refuse her again. It hurt to do so, which surprised him even more, and deepened the guilt drilling avidly into his consciousness. His empty hands grasped his cup again. Except for what had spilled, it was no fuller than it had been when he first poured the hot water. He had inexplicably lost his appetite. Again.

“But how can you not worry. With our luck, Prince Rian could be coming back as we speak. Or perhaps he sent somebody else, with more authority. Odette, I never doubted you. But I was out of line.” Placing his untouched tea aside once more, he pushed himself out of his chair, gesticulating weakly as he tried desperately to explain to her what exactly he had done; the transgressions that had uprooted his entire being.

“Odette, I’m not… I am- what happened between us,” Respectively, he pointed to her, and then to himself.

“That was not a mistake, and I take full responsibility for what happened. But what came of it- Odette, I am not one to make trouble. I push myself out of the way, I try to be as small as I can… I have never been in such…” Scandal was probably not the right word. Scandal carried implications and accusations, and Berlus was the last person who would even begin to blame Odette.

“such… Odette,”

Defeated, Berlus sat back down, cradling his forehand in his hands. “I do not… I don’t even know. And here we are,”He laughed feebly. "Drinking tea."

[ollie]

[/color] he said and pointed from her to him, and she shifted in her seat as she waited for him to say it. A mistake, right? Since that’s how he seemed to be acting – like he’d made the biggest mistake of his life by kissing her. “That was not a mistake, and I take full responsibility for what happened. But what came of it – Odette, I am not one to make trouble. I push myself out of the way, I try to be as small as I can… I have never been in such…” So it wasn’t a mistake, but still, she was building up the walls she had, waiting for him to make the final hit. He’d pushed her away, he’d told her what they were doing was wrong – things she already knew. She cast her eyes down to her tea, taking a sip. It was already cold, but it seemed to put up the façade that she was steady.

“Such… Odette.” She looked back up at him, but now he sat and put his head in his hands, and she listened to him only halfway and waited for the end. “I do not… I don’t even know. And here we are,” he laughed, though not heartily, and finished. “Drinking tea.”

She tilted her head, reaching her hands out and pulling his head out of his hands. “I wish you knew. I wish it was easier on you. But I don’t care what Rian does. Whether or not he catches us again, if he was to tell the court my secrets, I would be sent to the new plantation. And in any event, i would end there, or somewhere close there, as my father has made a deal with all my suitors that if they marry me, they get that land. But I don’t care whether I go when, and if, I get married or now, as it would be much easier than a life without the slightest of touches from you.” She sighed and grimaced, rubbing her face as a wave of sleepiness slid over her and left.

“Especially when that swine made me forfeit Adalia. That’s…” She drifted off, thinking of something to describe it. She snorted, which wasn’t very ladylike but with Berlus, it didn’t seem to matter. “Despicable, atrocious, horrendous… I could use so many words to describe him. He’s simply a disgusting human being, and he will be marrying my closest friend and making Regina his domain.” She sighed heavily again, and leaned back in her chair, having already put down her teacup.

Her eyes ran over him, as she thought. “You’ll be a king one day, too. With a queen as foreign to Helios as Rian is to Regina,” she said, voice almost pitying, and she shook her head as if she was disagreeing with something he said, “It’s as if the world is out to be unfair. It’s awfully rotten to royalty, that’s for certain. And not so sweet on ladies”—she said the word with bitter malice, nose crinkling as she oft did only around him—“either. But that’s how the world is, and I suppose it will never change.”
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[dede]

"But I don’t care whether I go when, and if, I get married or now, as it would be much easier than a life without the slightest of touches from you.”

Even as she confessed that a life with one less desirable would hardly be a chore if she was forced to continue without his affection, even as she carefully lifted his face from his hands, Berlus could see that his spoken insecurities had wilted her spirit and brushed it aside. That confident, yet infectiously tender and slightly unsure portion of her personality, the inviting rebelliousness which had inevitably ensnared him was quietly folding upon itself. While he recognized his error, he bit back apologies and excuses for his, in retrospect, childish behavior. It would only make her draw back further, he was sure.

So, rather than flailing around for words again, he reclined into his chair, folding one long leg over the other as Odette slumped slightly in her exhaustion. Just the sight of her momentary lapse in concentration tore another yawn from his mouth; her deflating state was extremely contagious.

To keep his heavy lids from drooping permanently over his blue eyes, he finally tasted his tea, with a small measure of consideration, watching the amber liquid slosh lazily against the rim of the cup as he brought it to his lips. The calming, bitter taste awakened his attention to Odette’s sharp opinion of their betrayer. If the tea had not worked, Berlus did not doubt that her choice descriptors would have done just as well.

“He’s simply a disgusting human being, and he will be marrying my closest friend and making Regina his domain.”

As she eyed Berlus mindfully, he avoided her considering gaze with uncertainty, taking another sip of his warm tea for further distraction. But he had to agree. It was thoroughly unfortunate; however, up until that point, there was little he could do about the cheated institution. Any prince of princess knew that such a union was political and economic pact. Partners were chosen for their peaceful or wealthy contribution to the royal lineage- not out of love, or appreciation for the company of the other. That was clearly out of the question. Berlus had met one or two potential suitors, and had found them all pretty, with appropriate humors and flattering physical features; while their intentions were forced, and their true interest nearly nonexistent, he had accepted these facts as minor technicalities he was forced to deal with as a prince.

But now, sitting with a person who truly stole his attention, who addressed him with honesty and sincerity, Berlus began to wonder if, when the time came for a favorable relationship, he would automatically and continuously compare his submissive royal suitor and pre-queen to the beautiful, outspoken and exceptional woman he had once, and quite briefly met while away at the castle of Regina.

Or perhaps he would simply miss her company for the remainder of his quiet life.

“I suppose.” Berlus repeated, reluctantly consenting to her conclusions, hesitant to explain his churning ideas on the matter of matrimony and feminism.

He looked at his cup, in which a little less than half of the chamomile tea remaining, while he chewed absent-mindedly on his lip before glancing at Odette. After a few seconds passed quietly in the dark, he dashed the current subjects drifting through the over-heated air with a simple and completely unrelated observation. “You seem tired.” He placed his mug on the tabletop.

[ollie]

[/color] She heard the clink of his cup hitting the tabletop, and she raised her eyes from her hands, where she had been studying the stitching of her small night gown. It was a painfully plain remark, but it meant he was looking at her, and noticing her, rather than simply looking. But with him, she felt like they lived in a blind world and he was the only person that could see. The difference was, he could probably see through her, too. To her, he was a puzzle -- he appeared meek, but somehow there was a matching pair of bravery and courage fit for a lion, and it attracted her just like his gentlemanly qualities did.

Brushing away the filing of his little quirks, she just nodded and sighed heavily. She snorted, as if it was a stupid comment, now that she thought of it. "Of course I'm tired. I feel weighted down and stupid and..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "I feel like I cannot do anything. Like I am helpless, and not just with the Adalia debacle. With you. I mean..." she shook her head, not sure what she meant, and shrugged like it was an open subject. It was open, but more like an open wound, as she felt grated and vulnerable in ways she never had in her life. He was a disarming person, and she wasn't sure why.

She wanted to stop thinking about how off she was, and how off she was around Berlus. That would make it no better, if not make it worse -- and that was the last thing Odette wanted. "Will your family arrange another marriage for you? I had always thought the men, especially princes and the like, had much more freedom to choose but... am I incorrect?" she wondered. She was already beginning her nervous babbling again, and she knew it wouldn't end no matter what she did. But her embarrassment over it could, and it could do so with a very simple thing -- rum. Not a lot, but enough.

Standing, she went to the cabinets of alcohol -- not very much, as most kept their own in their bedchambers, but her mother had always berrated her on tasting any sort of alcohol in her company ("How do you know it won't ruin your fertility? What man wants a drinking woman that can produce no babies? Hm, young lady? No man!") -- and paused to glance back at Berlus. "Would you like some rum in your tea? I think it would make this situation a little more relaxed, would it not?" she said over her shoulder, and half-climbed onto the countertop with ease (wonder why) to snatch the bottle off the shelf in the cabinet. It happened to be on top, as the cook was very possessive about his rum, especially after he'd found a bit missing (Odette had once brought Adalia down to drink, though it had gone no where on her part, but much on her lady-in-waiting's).

Hopping back down, she popped off the top with terrifying ease and poured a little in her tea, and held it out to Berlus with an innocent smile. Drinking with a man she had previously been very interested in physically (still was) and was now halfway in love with -- nothing could go wrong.

...Let's go with that.[/justify][/size][/ul]

[dede]

“Would you like some rum in your tea? I think it would make this situation a little more relaxed, would it not”

Well, well. It seems she had beaten him to his original intentions, he concluded with an exhausted smirk.

But that angelic smile gracing her lips as she offered him the rum made him less eager to embrace his earlier inspiration for coming down to the kitchens in the first place. He had stripped himself of the notion when he had discovered her, anyway.

Nevertheless, Berlus politely accepted the bottle with a slight frown, though he hesitated to tip its contents into his cup. Holding it carefully with one hand, he examined the glittering liquid behind the crystal container. He was not a connoisseur of alcohol in any way, but the fact that Odette had found it in the kitchen, with little trouble locating it he added silently, along with dark coloration of the rum itself, Berlus guessed it doubled as a cooking ingredient, as well as a midnight perk for those who wandered the castle halls at night. Noting the depleted amount inside the bottle, however, he was not positive of whether it used more often in their meals, or as an addition to Odette’s nightly tea parties.

As he continued contemplating the rum, reluctantly inhaling the delicate, creamy aroma that curled from the mouth of the bottle, he answered her previous question with vague interest. The turning direction of the conversation, along with the distraction of the high-grade ambrosia in his hand, devolved his manner of delivery to business-like blatancy. “You are not entirely incorrect, Odette. In theory, I am at liberty to choose whomever I desire as a wife and future queen; however, the ultimate decision is reserved for my father; the king.”

He lowered his hand, letting the bottle rest quietly on the table, focusing his attention back on Odette as he finished his explanation. “And, like his forefathers, he has expressed interest in only…advantageous pairings; beneficial for more than sustaining the royal family. His first wife, my mother, was chosen for him by the previous king, my grandfather, and his wife was also handpicked by the king before him.”

Ending with a discontented crinkle in his brow, he hefted the rum bottle again, tipping it at an expressive angle, though not steep enough to spill the liquid, with an apologetic grin.

He did not return the bottle to her just yet. “Odette, I, eh, must confess, I am not exactly confident that using substances for my relaxation will be advantageous on my part- In my current state, I might end up falling asleep.”

Or, his carefully defended and, recently, re-secured inhibitions would dilute to the point of… mistaken importance. Again, his tolerance of alcohol was admirable at best, but his sleepless consciousness made him wary.

[ollie]

[/color] She nodded mutely, somewhat enjoying her chance to see a glimpse into the life of royalty, to try and understand, for even a moment.

Again, he stopped in considering the rum, and she sighed slightly. She took a sip of her own tea, thankful for the new edge. It seemed only to pause, or at least she hoped, as she listened to him finish. "And, like his forefathers, he has expressed interest in only… advantageous pairings; beneficial for more than sustaining the royal family. His first wife, my mother, was chosen for him by the previous king, my grandfather, and his wife was also handpicked by the king before him."

Her hearing snagged on the phrase 'his first wife,' and she frowned for a moment though did not ask yet. He obviously wasn't done. She watched him again hold the bottle as if to pour the rum, he still did not, which bothered her immensely. "Odette, I, eh, must confess, I am not exactly confident that using substances for my relaxation will be advantageous on my part -- in my current state, I might end up falling asleep." She smiled at his confession, again thankful to have honest Berlus with her. He certainly did know how to choose his words correctly, because they always ended up making her smile.

She yawned, without thinking about it, and laughed softly under her breath. "I suppose you mine as well," she said, humor livening her voice, "as I seem to be much more tired than I thought." It was true, she was tired, but the difference between now and earlier that night, she actually felt as though she could fall asleep. Before, she had stayed awake tirelessly wondering if he would ever speak to her again, if he would ever consider her existence. But now she knew, and now she felt ready to rest, ready to relax. "You will marry a princess, I assume? Some pretty, simple thing your father finds?"

( AHAHA i return. c: )
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[dede]

Berlus had to clamp his quivering jaw tightly to keep from imitating Odette’s expression of drowsiness. Yet her leisurely chuckle, swallowed slightly by her yawn, still managed to sow a tiny smile upon his lips and a charmed sparkle in his eyes, the corners deepening with his amusement. He believed, with a disturbing hint of fondess, that her laughter, however muffled in her exhaustion, was easily more potent than the highest grade of any alcoholic tonic; the rum still held rather gingerly in his hand was no exception. Leaning deeper into his chair, he set the rum dismissively on the tabletop, replacing it with his cooling mug of tea.

As long as he entertained, kept her happy and, most significantly, awake, he would have little trouble fending off the oppressive inclination to fall asleep. The same could not have been said for Odette, Berlus considered with a doting sense of empathy. Quite the opposite, it seemed. His presence might as well have been lulling her consciousness.

"…as I seem to be much more tired than I thought."

No doubt, she appeared quite ready to collapse in front of him, with hardly a second thought on her current company of one tall, gray-haired young man, dressed comfortably in blue. He was eager to avoid any potential situations in which he would have to carry her chambers, for he refused to consider leaving a lady-in-waiting curled underneath the table for the servants and chefs to discover the next morning. Either way, neither options were beneficial to their separate or conjoined (and, at the moment, sealed) reputations, especially if they were caught together again.

With this in mind, he was about to suggest that they cordially part ways for the night, since they both appeared to be growing incapable of utilizing simple functions as sitting upright, when Odette began to speak again. Berlus quickly silenced himself with a distracting taste of his stilled chamomile tea.

“You will marry a princess, I assume? Some pretty, simple thing your father finds?"

Berlus lowered the cup from his lips, addressing the not-so-simple and not-just-pretty Odette with a contemplative stare over the moistened rim. After a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, he placed the mug on the table again. “That is what I have been taught to expect. Since I can remember my father has introduced possibilities for a future marriage. They have all been… perfectly suitable, I suppose.”

Which was commonly true, Berlus would have insisted. There was been nothing wrong with the potential brides he had previously met, physical or otherwise.

“Since I have forfeited my chances with Princess Adalia, I am assuming that my father will be quick to find me a permanent solution when I return to Helios.”

ooc; YAAAY! /tackles

[ollie]

[/color] His reply was very agreeable and yet had its own opinion put in there, and she smiled softly as her mind had snagged on the words 'perfectly suitable.' Suitable, and his preference, were obviously two different things.

"Since I have forfeited my chances with Prince Adalia," he said, and she frowned slightly in her guilt, "I am assuming that my father will be quick to find me a permanent solution when I return to Helios." She mouthed the word permanent, as if it would make it easier to understand, and took another sip of her tea. Scarily, she was almost finished with the amount she had. Unfortunately for Berlus, Odette didn't get sleepy when she got drunk -- she got girlish and very, very shameless.

"That's unfortunate. Very, very unfortunate," she said, shaking her head as if the conversation was not with him, but instead an internal fight of her own. "My father, the bastard, is planning on marrying me, too. I have just the same amount of time as Adalia, but my suitors are all slimy old men that want to marry me to get my father's new land." She huffed, obviously irritated, and shook her head. "I have to be engaged by the ball. It's simply unfair, terribly unfair, that just because I'm a woman I must marry some gray-haired--"

She swallowed the rest of her tirade, eyes wide. "That was terrible. I don't mean all gray-haired men are bad. Not at all. You're the exact model for the perfect gray-haired man. I mean... you're the exact model for a perfect man." She huffed, again, and shook her head. "That's the worst part. You're perfect. Effortlessly so. You don't even realize it, do you? That you make me feel like a little girl, like some... some imbecilic little girl, and yet not. At the same time, you make me feel like a real woman, the kind that is supposed to be an object of d--"

Again, she stopped herself, blushing scarlet. Geesh, was Berlus made to make her feel ashamed of herself? She was on her way to being smashed, and this man still made her feel so foolish. So stupid. And yet, that fluttering feeling... No, it wasn't all bad. Not at all. "It's a shame you're too good for me, huh?" she wondered, smiling to make it appear to be a joke. But in the world of politics, it was the truth.
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