And Your Little Dog Too ~ Provost Office, Chy 27, MT

[Graves]

The Provost Office: Centre of operations, and located directly next to Pax Balthasar's portal, the Provost Office deals not only with the incoming and outgoing traffic of Pax (though at the moment it leans more heavily on incoming), but also with the allocation of homes to the new citizens, the allotment of food supplies, and as a base of operations for the Provost Marshall. Despite it's importance, the building itself is rather unimpressive. Larger than the other wooden buildings, but not by a great deal, it looks rapidly constructed with an eye to speed and practicality rather than design or taste. It has two stories, and a wide veranda on which is parked a desk, and usually a soldier of the Pax Honestus right behind it - made strikingly visible against the dark wood in a royal blue uniform.

D'arcy eyes the structure evenly, weighing it as one might weigh an adversary just prior to a duel. She has many questions to ask, and she isn't sure yet if being the poseur is in her best interest yet, but she does need a place to stay and she suspects that the Provost and other officers here have more than their share of paperwork to deal with.

She had arranged to meet Ophelia here, in the morning-- but decides that she needn't necessarily wait for her companion to start her house hunt. Of course, there would be specifics to discuss later on, but at the very least she could possibly make some inquiries of a more ambitious nature.

She moves toward the door easily and gently, not wanting to intrude. After all, she is unaware of precisely the hours a 'Provost Marshall' keeps, but she imagines that they might be rather extensive, given the rate at which this little pile of dust was growing.

"Hello? I'm D'arcy Graves, and I needed to speak with the Provost," she intones at nobody in particular if there is not a clear secretary or something of the sort.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia had bounded out of the whore-house with the casual abandon of someone who didn't quite realize the implications of the place in-which she had slept. She carried an egg sandwhich with thin layers of sausage and a hearty bread in one hand. Breakfast on the run. She and D`arcy had said they'd meet at the Provost's office in the morning and she didn't want to be late. She hadn't been able to find the girl around Nether's Gate at all, so it made sense she had left just a bit before her.

Munching happily on her meal she gave casual nods to those she passed. Upon approaching the Marshall's office she gave pause at the door and looked around. "Where the nether is she?" Bright blue eyes glanced about followed by her leaning against the wall while finishing her sandwhich. It would be just plain rude to waltz into the office eating.

So, she took the moments outdoors to appreciate the bright sunshine and subtle breeze that pulled at her long blonde locks. The portal winked open, allowing another stranger into the city, but Ophelia didn't pay much attention. Upon finishing her morning fare a, few burns after, she brushed her hands over her form to assure there was no crumbs. They wouldn't show much, wearing a soft velvety tan bodice, white chemise and tan leggings, but it was good to try to look ones best. Giving a final stretch, followed by running her fingers through her hair quickly, she stepped into the office, figuring that D`arcy just must've gone inside.

"There you are," she said with cheer, and gave the secretary a bright grin. "Good morning." Sure that D`arcy had already begun the proceedings she allowed the pleasantries to pass into the more important conversation of finding permanent housing.

[Guido Cercatoro]

D’Arcy and Ophelia were greeted by a soldier of the Pax Honestus legion who, judging by his deep scowl, appeared to be either bored or unhappy with his current duties guarding the Provost Office. “Yer can go straight in,” he grunted in response to D’Arcy’s question. “The Provost is seeing visitors himself this morningtide. Likes to keep in touch with what’s going on in this forsaken dump. Can’t think why.”

Inside the building, a wide hallway led off to a pair of small offices, a record room, and a back room with a sturdy, locked door in which supplies and food were kept. A very basic wooden staircase rose to the upper floor. One tatty rug - apparently hauled all the way from World's Mouth through mud and fields by its condition - graced the floor of the hallway downstairs in a vain attempt the make the building appear lived in and inviting.

The Provost’s room proved to be a simple, plain and functional office containing a small desk and several chairs. Sat behind the desk was a handsome young man in his mid twenties. He was slightly built, of medium height and crowned with long flowing blond hair. As he rose to greet the two newcomers, his blue eyes twinkled and a charming smile covered his face.

“Marcel Sanguine, at your service, ladies. I am very pleased to meet you. Please take a seat and tell me what brings you here.”

[Graves]

She smiles and offers a wink at her compatriot, considering a small wave but deciding against it, considering the professional nature of their visit. She is clad much as she always is, with the exception that the beads and pins holding her hair back are azure rather than their typical black. Not owning much in color, D'arcy likes to think that color promotes friendliness, something which she is certainly hoping to invoke in the Provost.

Of course, Ophelia being here does slightly complicate matters. Nonetheless, the pale woman takes a seat at the desk and clears her throat before speaking.

"Hello, Signore Sanguine," begins D'arcy, speaking with careful articulation, as she recalls the women in World's Mouth to whom her mother catered had. "My name is D'arcy Graves of the Nashorn Institute in World's Mouth, and this is my good friend Ophelia da Yrsa of..." here she pauses for a few seconds, allowing Ophelia to add anything she might wish to.

"There are a few issues which I was interested in speaking with you about, but to begin with what I imagine is the more commonplace request, my friend," she indicates Ophelia with a warm smile, "and I were directed here so that we might secure a permanent place of residence here in Pax Balthasar. I'm sure you are swamped, but I know that we would personally love any assistance you could provide." Feeling somewhat guilty for speaking for Ophelia entirely, and aware of the woman's bardic talents, knows she can hold her own.

"I don't know what, if any, specifications you require, and I certainly don't need any special accomodations, did you have anything in mind Ophelia?" She asks gently, trying carefully not to sound too patronizing, but probably only barely succeeding. It was a bad habit; and those were the hardest to break.

Her next request, if he is pliant to this one, is going to be a slightly more difficult sell, she imagines.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia slid into one of the chairs before his desk and continued to smile. She was so excited about this little adventure. There was very little that could puncture her mood at the moment. First she'd been offered a job, and then had a good sleep in a comfortable enough straw bed only to now be looking for a house! Inside she was cheering and it showed in the luminous sparkle of her eyes as they fixed on the Provost charmingly.

"King's Court most recently, before that Muchislie," she added with a smile. Neither explained her appearance, but in a place like Pax she doubted it'd be much of a problem. As D`arcy continued she was more than satisfied to let the more cultured of the two of them discuss matters.

Meanwhile she took in the scenery of his office. One learned all sorts of interesting details from what was (or wasn't) in a place. It told much about the person, be it cluttered or clean. During her visual inspection she was listening somewhat to D`arcy... but just barely. She did notice when her voice trailed off, however, and her eyes flicked over. "Hmm?" Ophy blinked blankly taking in the woman's tone with blissful ignorance. "No, nothing really. Michel Carbonneau is the one who insisted I come as soon as I settled in a bit," she continued. "I'm sure you're more than capable of figuring out what two young women might need." Having added what was necessary she returned to her quiet semi-listening-unless-spoken-to while appraising her surroundings.

[Luca di Fabro]

As Luca walked over to the Provost office he grabbed a piece of liquorice root out of his bag and started chewing on it. It was a habit he had picked up from Amerigo. The stuff was sweet and it gave you something to do. Besides, it was cheaper and healthier than smoking cigs all day.

He blinked as he only now spotted the guard standing in front of the building. Amazing...how come he hadn't seen the guy before? Had he been that distracted?? He took in the guy's posture as he approached him, estimating what kind of mood the guy was in and what possibilities the man could offer.

The guy looked pretty bored. Luca approached him with his usual cheerful smile, grabbing the piece of liquorice from his mouth and using it to point out the other guard. "Morning! Your amico over there told me I could come here to speak to the Provost about acquiring the piece of land that has been made available for all new settlers?"

[Guido Cercatoro]

The charming smile never left Sanguine’s face as he listened to the newcomers. “Well, I am very impressed,” he began with a slight chuckle. “A signorina from a famous institute and an acquaintance of the army Commander. It is rare to have such illustrious visitors. May I offer you both a drink? The wine is from my family estate in Foreno. I am sure that you will enjoy it. ” On one side of the Provost’s desk was a large tray containing a jug of fruit juice, a decanter of wine and several mugs and wine glasses. Before either woman had answered, Marcel had poured out three glasses of wine and picked up two to hand to his guests.

“We do have plots of land to hand out to new arrivals, it is true, although most of the best plots have now been taken. However, we also have one or two small dwellings that have been vacated by those who have moved out of the town to work in the fields or decided that life in Pax in not for them. Indeed, I have one currently available that would suit you both. It is little more than a simple shack but larger than most.”

“However, before we get into the details, I cannot resist the opportunity to hear about recent events in other parts of the Kingdom. Signorina Graves, I hear disturbing reports about events in the Mouth. Have these affected the Institute and is that what brings you here?” And Miss da Yrsa, you really must tell me how you know the Commander.” The questions were delivered in an open and friendly fashion but it was clear that the Provost was intent on probing the two women for information.

Ophelia’s glance revealed a professional and well-organised room. A number of ledgers, books and scrolls were neatly arranged in a bookcase made of a light coloured wood. On one wall was a pinned a large map of the valley in which Pax was located, whilst on a small corner table sat several bottles of wine. In addition to the wine tray, Marcel’s desk contained writing implements, inks and a few pieces of parchment. It all left the impression that, despite his young age, the Provost was an efficient and effective administrator.

*****************************************************************************************

The guard lounging just inside the open door to the Provost building heaved a bored sigh as Luca inquired about seeing the Provost. “The Provost is available this morning but he is busy at present. Please take a seat whilst you are waiting."

Inside the building, a wide hallway led off to a pair of small offices, a record room, and a back room with a sturdy, locked door in which supplies and food were kept. A very basic wooden staircase rose to the upper floor. One tatty rug - apparently hauled all the way from World's Mouth through mud and fields by its condition - graced the floor of the hallway downstairs in a vain attempt the make the building appear lived in and inviting.

Outside one of the offices, three plain chairs were arranged in a row. The door to the office was closed but voices could be heard coming from within. Once Luca had entered the hall, the bored looking guard would turn to lean on the frame of the outside door, his eyes focused on the street outside.

[Luca di Fabro]

Heh..of course the bischero is busy. Busy with the cioccie of that fine chica, I'm sure. Luca chuckled and nodded to the guard. "Alright, thanks. I aint got nothin to do so I'll wait inside. I'm sure that the man won't be busy for too long with that lovely chica that walked in." He winked to the guard, curious to see the reaction of the man on his playful little comment. He had to find some guard with whom he could make a connection. This one seemed really bored. So either he was a nice guy with some potential, or it was just a really boring ass in whom Luca would have no interest anyway.

After having seen the reaction of the guard, Luca put the stick of liquorice back in his mouth and stepped inside. There didn't seem to be too much of interest in the hallway. He grinned as he saw the rug, the pattern on it being quite familiar. For a flicker it made him realize all that he had left behind. He hadn't had much time to think about what happened back home. What had happened when his best friend got killed while defending him. With slow steps he walked across the rug, looking down as flashes from his life repeated itself in his mind.

The voices from one of the offices woke him up. He looked around to see if he was in the line of sight of the guard. BUt the man seemed to be focussed on what was going on outside. Holding the liquorice tight between his teeth, Luca got as close as he could to the door. If he could hear the conversation clearly from there, he would not touch the door, but if he had to, he would place his ear against the door. He kept his eyes focussed on the hallway, looking for any movement of the guard. Let's see what the chica wants..

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia, now paying more attention thanks to answering as well as being asked several questions, nodded to the offered wine and returned the generocity with the feminine guiles of fluttered lashes. She was a creature of her environment, and that happened to be pubs, inns, and caravansaries. All of which were likely to have her deep in spirits by the lunch mark. As such, it was hardly the rarity for her to begin imbibing wines from when the sun came up and following through to the evening without problem. It was that very behavior which her father said would be her undoing.

Her fingers wrapped around the wider part of the glass, marveling at the workmanship. Not everyone had the money for such a luxury. Someday, she thought to herself while D`arcy accepted or declined the beverage. I will have this and more.

"Wonderful," she said with honesty whether it was to her taste or not, wanting to be polite. Ophelia had learned that much from her mother's insistance she be somewhat a lady. "Shack it may be, but if it would put a roof over my head, I'd be thankful for it. I'm but a humble performer, come here to ply my trade and tell the story of the city and it's people," she began, after the sip of the wine. "The Commander gave me passage from King's Court here to Pax via the portal so that I might not have to travel alone," she licked her lips somewhat nervously, remembering the taste of the wine on them.

Everyone was aware of what was happening at Pax. Even just being here for a day she'd learned much about the state of attacks on persons (particularly guards) in the city, as well as the strangely appearing stonework. This included a curious 'stone cube' something she meant very much to investigate in earnest later this very day, her interest in it being, of course, inspiration. Perhaps she could write the first song of the peculiar monument. Though, rumors of ghosts gave her to consider maybe the people living in Pax weren't the first to live in this place.

That very thought in the midst of her speech to the Provost, caused an unusual pause that could've been brushed aside as a shy hesitation. Being a performer, she continued without falter. Her following comment lent to why she might've been sheepish. "He's a charming gentleman, and quite the inspiration. I should like very much to dedicate a song to him tomorrow evening in thanks," she said somewhat bashfully.

Ophelia was talking too much, she could tell. It was a sensation she felt often, but usually ignored. She did just that right that moment. "I'll be performing at the Nether's Gate," she proclaimed proudly. Melissa had suggested it was the only haunt in town, and the members of the military enjoyed it thoroughly. Perhaps Marcel had a soft-spot for music, and would be more helpful as they searched for a home. "And I need somewhere I can practice 'tween now and then." Feeling she'd over-stepped her boundries she gave D`arcy an inviting look, to mean that she wanted her to say something.

[Graves]

She takes the offered glass without a glance, being accustomed to being a guest in houses far finer than her own-- and also to not letting on her own past.

D'arcy tries her best not to blush or become flustered when he asks more specific questions about the Nashorn. She had assumed that the Provost would be far busier than he appears to be, though that is clearly not the case.

"Ophelia is right, at this point anything would do," the pale woman offers a small laugh. "I'm sure if it has four walls, the touch of two women can easily make it into a proper home." She is less than sure about this, actually, having never been a proper domestic. Though that, of course, is not something she intends to tell the Provost himself.

"Things are quite... hectic... as I'm sure you've heard, within the Mouth," her thin lips try to place the issue delicately, as she was raised to, though inside of course she wants to rave about the irritation she feels at the present state of her once-home. "But I guess some measure of social unrest is normal anywhere you go, no?" She offers a small smile and wink at the Provost, comfortable that her allusion to the events of last night will not be taken with offense. "That is not why the Nashorn has sent me, however."

"There is growing interest among my colleagues in the formation of new societies," she takes care to make sure that her presence is purely scientific, and not driven by any sort of personal interest. "More specifically, how this relates to other research being conducted." She doesn't know any specifics, and so prefers to leave it at that, hoping that the Provost won't press any further.

"I've also heard some interesting rumors about supernatural incidents of late," here D'arcy raises her eyebrows carefully, phrasing her wording more neutrally, almost casually. "Which was part of my original focus at the Nashorn- the explanation of supposedly supernatural events." She smiles, lowering her eyes like a shy girl at a recital. "I'd be interested in hearing more about where these events have been occurring, as well as more about them in general, at a time when it is more convenient for yourself, Signor. I imagine you must be quite busy at the moment..." No rush, after all: D'arcy can arrange for a meeting later, once she's spent more time formalizing her story and her 'knowledge' of what she claims.

"But yes, you said something about a shack-- larger than most?" A hopeful smile replaces her previously skittish one, hoping that he will not press her on the topic of science or the Nashorn.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The guard grinned at Luca’s comment concerning the Provost’s visitors. “If I was the Provost I might spend most of the day with those two.” With a chuckle, the guard turned to once again look out on the main street. He showed no interest in keeping an eye on Luca or conversing any further, although the Provost’s door was directly in his eye line should the guard choose to turn. As Luca got close to the door, the voices within became more distinct but he was forced to place his ear to the door before he could identify individual phrases and words.

*******************************************************************************************

As she took the glass of wine, Ophelia’s fluttering eyelashes were greeted with an amused and devastatingly charming grin. If she had intended her actions to impress the Provost, then she was doubly affected in return. The boyish good looks, the flowing blond hair and the wide, open smile were all major tools in Marcel’s armoury and he was obviously prepared to use them…

“The Commander is so thoughtful,” replied Marcel with a trace of sarcasm when Ophelia had finished her story. “And if you are to perform a song about him in the tavern, well I simply will not be able resist visiting if my duties permit.” The young man’s face clouded slightly at the mention of his duties. As he spoke he fingered one ear with his left hand and Ophelia could see that the he had a scar where the lobe of the ear was missing. “There is little in the way of entertainment in Pax, so any new performer is always eagerly awaited.”

D’Arcy also took the glass of wine offered to her by the Provost who listened intently to her story. He looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of supernatural incidents. “There have been incidents here,” he said ruefully. “Whether they have a supernatural, divine or scientific explanation is difficult to assess. However, someone with your background in such a famous institute might be able to provide some clues. And I should certainly be interested in hearing your opinion.”

The Provost shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking a small sip of his wine. “Please ladies, take a drink of your wine and tell me what you think.” If either Ophelia or D’Arcy tasted the wine they would find it to have a delicate, fruity bouquet with a complex character combining the crisp feeling of a winter morning with the warmth of a late summer afternoon. The taste was extremely satisfying – deep but not too full-bodied, yet retaining the underlying delicacy of the aroma. All in all, it was a first class wine if somewhat strong.

“As for a dwelling, well I do have one that might interest you. It is an unusual house that was recently vacated by a musician. Rather apt in the circumstances. It would certainly do for you to practice in.” Marcel shot a friendly glance at Ophelia.

“It is known as the white house,” he explained, “for it is partly made out of the same white stone as the walls of Pax and it shines brightly when it catches the sun. The stones….. ..er…appeared one day, as have many of the stone buildings in the town.”

“I would not normally offer this building to two ladies such as yourselves but given your background at the institute signorina is may be appropriate. The musician complained he heard ghosts when he played his music. It is probably nonsense but it may be something to do with the events in the town.”

“If you wish to take the building, I can offer it for a nominal rent under the circumstances. What do you say?”

*********************************************************************************

With his ear to the door, Luca got the broad gist of the conversation that was going on. He now knew that one of the women was a musician and the other a member of some institute or other. He also knew that, strangely, the Provost had offered them a house that was apparently haunted.

[Luca di Fabro]

Luca was pleased with the guard's response. Yes..this one might have some potential..at least they aren't all as uptight as the Prodesse fuckers... A bitter look appeared on his face for a flicker as he thought about them. Fortunately they weren't here, something that was perfectly clear by the state the old rug on the floor was in. He grinned. And..the man said there was not one, but two chica's. Due! Now Luca was sure the Provost had his hands full.

As he was listening with his ear to the door, Luca kept his eyes on the guard. Should he switch position, Luca would drop his piece of liqourice on the floor, pretending as he had lost it and was just grabbing the thing from the floor again. What he heard of the conversation was quite interesting. A musician...and someone from an institute in the Mouth? His heart just began beating a little quicker. What institute?? He thought about the chica that he saw walking into the office earlier. She had not looked like a Mouthie. And..her being a musician kinda made sense. She had this artsy, fuzzy look about her. Ai, ai...both these chicas are interesting!...and..the bischero is offering them a haunted house? Who..would offer two fine ladies a haunted house? It didn't make sense. Unless the institute had something to do with magic or something?

Luca became more and more interested in this town and these two chica's. There was a lot of potential here..he could feel it! Eagerly he kept on listening to the conversation, wondering what the ladies would say about the offer.



OOC: I'm assuming Luca heard that D'arcy is from the Mouth, if he hasn't lemme know and I'll edit it

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

To say that Ophy was a little caught off guard by Marcel's silent flirtation would be an understatement. His fair skin, blonde hair and overall dashing good looks were easily noted and tucked away into a mental file sure to be examined later when she was afforded some personal time for reflection. Such charming men in the military here... she mused inwardly. The more handsome guys she met here the less she wanted to continue on her travels to the Seven White Towers. Well... perhaps thoughts of wrestling between the sheets with the provost weren't enough to keep her from her ultimate goal. In the meantime it was quite nice to have so many around who were so easy on the eyes.

Daydreams about goverment officials weren't exactly the best for maintaining conversations with them. So, she studiously listened and found herself easily catching Marcel's tone in reflection to the Commander. Perhaps the two hadn't gotten along well? It was worth questioning Michel about later if given the chance. "You definately should come out, sir," she kept a polite melody to her voice. "Melissa said the same, that there aren't really any musicians. I almost can't believe it. I'm starting to think we may be a dying breed..." She sighed whistfully, and pretended not to notice the scar nor his idle fiddling with it.

At his insistance Ophy took a sip of the wine, and found it quite refreshing as well as complex. "Mm, it's good," she started, "Great, really. We've got nothing like this back in Muchislie. Where's it from?" Her mother loved wines. Perhaps if she'd gotten the chance she might bring some back for her, or even send some otherwise.

The provost suggested a house, and Ophelia found herself drawing quiet at the mention of apparitions. The fantastic claims of the locals were shared by their leaders. She allowed D`arcy to make whatever comments she might about the offer and added her own remarks. "I think I can manage a few ghosties." The bard smiled. "Why did the musician leave?" She questioned innocently.

[Guido Cercatoro]

(OOC: Luca, yes you can assume that you have heard that D'arcy is from the Mouth; Ophelia, we’ll just assume D’Arcy let’s you do the talking so we can move on)

The guard remained leaning on the door, continuing to look across the street rather than the waiting room. Luca’s attempts to listen to the conversation were uninterrupted and as his ears became more accustomed to the voices he manage to hear virtually all the details of the conversation.

A few flickers after Ophelia had tasted the wine, she realised that the Provost’s comment about the strength of the wine were well-founded. One sip packed the punch of a full glass or two of most wines and she felt distinctly light headed and loose tongued.

“The wine is from my family estate in Foreno. We have been…experimenting with various varieties of grape. Many find it quite intoxicating although I myself am well used to its properties.” There was a trace of amusement on the young man’s face as if he was well aware of the “properties of the wine”. “I am hoping to arrange to import the wine from the estate and then perhaps export to the capital itself.”

“The musician was an adhiel of great imagination,” continued the Provost. “He was convinced that his playing was re-awakening the dead. If you want more details you may want to talk to the gnome who runs the Father's Grace Tavern. I believe that the musician played there for a while and Jakkeleran is fond of such stories.”

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia blinked repeatedly, finding that upon her next inhale a wash of lightheadedness filled her with the feeling of intoxication. "Grapes? Gotta wonder if there's more than that in your mix... Doesn't taste like it's so strong though." Curiosity, one of Ophelia's most prominent traits, caused for her to take another small sip, this one not in the interest of being polite, but rather, to try to allow her tongue discover any other hidden flavors to betray what could be hidden beneath the surface of the brew.

Marcel's impish grin at his ability to handle the spirits, mixed with her slightly inebriated state, caused for the giggling laughter at his words, to be more girlish and youthful than she otherwise would've allowed. "Provost, I don't think for one flicker you can't handle it just fine! Please, send my compliments to your family." She raised the glass just slightly, in a gentle toast, but didn't quench her thirst again for fear of becoming drunk during what was supposed to be a business meeting securing the two young ladies a residence. "Your wine should do great in King's Court - maybe even further away," she suggested with a bright smile. "We don't have anything like this in Muchislie, that's for sure. My mama drinks wine like it's going out of style - she'd love something like this, even if only on holidays and things."

Encouragement oozed from her very pores. Ophy liked talking, but if there was something she liked more than talking, it was making people feel good - about themselves, or about their plans. Well, in the right company that is. She could just as easily find great enjoyment in making fun of someone - something she'd be flexing her muscles with only later that day when meeting her newest partner in crime, Luca.

As the conversation leant toward the poltergeists of Pax Ophy's bright demeanor never shifted. Infact, the more she heard about the strange happenings the more she wanted to investigate them. "Re-awakening the dead.. must've been some mighty fine tunes he was playing," her lips quirked into a playful grin. "I'll be sure to ask that gnome Jackhlin all about it." Her pronunciation of the foreign name left something to be desired, but Ophy never claimed to be a great source of information on the gnomish sorts. Infact, she'd never met a real gnome before. Just another thing to be excited about!

"So, don't suppose we get to have directions on how to find this ghosti-filled place, hmmm?"

OOC: I tried to email D`arcy but got nothing back from her... guess RL is being rather bothersome. Damnable RL... ::shakes fist:: I'm ok with pushing this along, she'll catch up eventually.

[Luca di Fabro]

OOC: Uh yeah, since there are only so many ways I can describe how Luca has his ear to the door, just assume that he keeps on listening until either something happens in the room, or the guard makes a move. But if you disagree with me on this, lemme know and I'm happy to write a post

[Guido Cercatoro]

Ophelia’s second taste of the wine confirmed that is was delicious but she could not identify any hidden flavours. And yet, there was something strange about the taste. It was if deep within the wine, there was a tiny glowing speck of……something. Marcel merely grinned as his guest tasted the wine.

“The recipe is known only to the Master Winemaker,” he explained. “Even I do not know all it contains. And I will be sure to send your compliments to my family. Indeed, my brother is due here shortly and he is much more involved in the process than I.”

The Provost outlined the directions to the White House and tossed a key towards his two visitors. “I would be very interested to hear if you meet any ghosts.”

Ophelia now felt quite drunk and talkative, as if the wine was encouraging her to be open and truthful.

“But before you go, Miss da Yrsa, you must tell me in more detail of your future plans.” Before she could stop herself, Ophelia had blabbed out at least one of the real reasons that she had come to Pax.

Outside the door, Luca continued to hear most of the conversation. In the doorway the guard stretched and Luca had to move quickly away from the door as the soldier glanced backwards.

“Still gossiping are they,” said the guard, with a wicked smile.


(OOC: Ophelia….I will post a description of the white house in the wiki. You must assume the wine has loosened your tongue a little and encouraged you to reveal the basic details of one of your goals e.g. the horse search or the ice palace)

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

With the giddy enthusiasm of her intoxication, Ophelia was quick to depart details as the Provost suggested questions. "I should like to meet him. Is he as goodlooking as you?" Innocent charm paired with alcohol had a tendency to provide less in the way of intentions and more in the way of her inner workings. "If so, Pax is going to be in some trouble!" She giggled musicly, but drowned it by way of another sip of Marcel's truth serum wine.

"Well, I came to Pax for a few reasons. I'm Trothgardian... I'm sure you could tell that anyway, but.. I've never been. You see, in Trothgard we have this thing called a Rite of Passage and you're supposed to go out into the tundra and get a feather from a magickal beast and it's all very important," she shrugged absently. "But, I'm not ready for it - so I thought I'd come here and give it a sort of practice go, you know?" She grinned.

"Oh! And..." Her voice trailed off with the dramatics of the bard she was. "I'm looking for a tribe of horses somewhere around these parts. I have one - a horse that is. Do you ride, Mr Provost? -Horses that is..." Ophy offered a cheeky smile. "Because if you do I should let you have a meet with my Jaaz - he's a beauty. My father breeds horses," she added, as if it were an important piece of information to addendum. "But Jaaz isn't from my papa's horses, he's from here, or so I was told. I guess they're wild horses, I'd love to get Jaaz a mare, I could just imagine such a cute little foal." Her nose scrunched up in that way it often did when women spoke of things that they considered adorable.

Her fingers wrapped around the key, taking comfort in it's cold pressure against her palm and followed by pocketting it. "I'll make sure you're first to know about any ghosts lurking about. But, I have to wonder, what if they happen to come in the middle of the night? Where should D`arcy and I go?.. I mean, where would we be safe? Two girls... pushed from their home by evil spirits..." There was a slight romanticism in her tone carried further with wistful eyes. "It might be scary. Maybe there's somewhere we might have as back up?" Her eyes returned to meet his hopeful, but also inspired by his tonic.

[Guido Cercatoro]

"I should like to meet him. Is he as good looking as you?"

The Provost laughed out loud and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Well beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so you will have to meet my brother. Perhaps I will take him to the tavern to see your performance.”

Ophelia’s story about the search for a magical feather appeared to be of little import to the Provost but he gave a slight nod as she mentioned the tribe of horses. “I have heard that story too,” he muttered to himself, frowning slightly. “I should be most interested in seeing this horse of yours. Perhaps we might go riding when you have settled in?”

“As for your new house, well I shall make sure that a guardsman regularly passes there on patrol for your first few nights. That should make you sleep soundly. But if you still have any trouble sleeping, perhaps I might read you a bedtime story?” Marcel had a playful grin on his face as he responded to Ophelia’s tipsy flirting.

D’Arcy remained silent but Ophelia now felt decidedly drunk. The world was spinning slightly although she felt no nausea or illness.

“If there is nothing more, I am afraid that I have much other business to attend to.”

Distracted as he was by the guard, Luca heard nothing of the most recent conversation.

[Graves]

((OOC: I apologize quite profusely for any inconvenience my absence may have caused; RL can, in fact, be quite cumbersome. ))

She enjoys the taste of the wine, but finds the rather rapid drunkenness it instills in her rather disconcerting. As a woman who is far from unaccustomed to her drinking, the fact that the alcohol has such a pronounced effect is a bit shocking. Nonetheless, she finds herself suddenly more talkative after her brief period of silence.

"Spirits are usually here to help us, or at least that's what my mother used to say," she blurts, somewhat casually, into the conversation of ghostly activity. Her tone is even and perhaps... supercilious?... as she talks about the world of the supernatural, suggesting familiarity that is either pretense or intimate knowledge, or perhaps both. "Rest assured, Ophelia," she turns, perhaps with a bit of a swagger in her body language, toward her friend, "There's no danger for us. If a spirit is there, I am quite sure that I can handle it. My m... the Nashorn Institute wouldn't have hired me if I didn't know what I was doing, now would it have?"

Realizing that she has suddenly burst into speech after a period of silence, D'arcy looks apologetically at Marcel and Ophelia both. "I'm sorry for my explosion... it... er... well, I don't really..." she stops, trying her best to center herself, and setting the remainder of her wine down on the nearest convenient surface. Biting her lower lip for just an instant longer, she continues with, "the wine really is quite good, my compliments to the maker."

With that she looks at Ophelia, suddenly wanting to be led, and quite certain of her desire to keep her tongue in cheek for the moment, at least. There is something... disarming... about the Provost. After all, it can't be the wine, can it? D'arcy has drank wine for years, and never had this effect... no, there is just something disarming about -that man-.

She glances at him and her companion alternatingly, suddenly sheepish despite her previous disposition.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

OOC: Such as the inconvenience that has caused Ophy to try to get into the Provost's pants?! Come on girlfriend, back me up here! ::snickers:: Good to see you back.

IC:
"It would be great to see you both, and then you'd have something to do with your brother. It is a good way to meet a place - through music and a few drinks," she said, leaning toward the Provost with the eagerness that only a girl who had experienced a man's touch could possess. One of her collarbones jutted out defiantly where it met her long graceful neck. Ivory skin hinted toward freckles should she spend too much time outdoors, but it was only noticeable across her nose and cheek bones while still in the months of early spring. Blue eyes fluttered; trying to snare Marcel's gaze.

"When you get a few flickers away from all this," her hand, in which she still clutched the drink, waved about absently toward his desk and managed to incorporate a flick of her wrist meant to suggest his office in general, "You should come by and we'll go for a ride, mm?" Ophelia licked her lips and swallowed the last taste of the sweet wine. "Maybe after you could tell me a little story," she smiled, and set down the cup on his desk. Her fingers slipped off the edge with reflexes suggesting dulled senses via their slowness as she laced her fingers together on her lap. The warm sensation of buzz had spread over her causing her suggestive spell to only be broken by D`arcy's sudden intrusion on their conversation.

But.. it wasn't truly, for it was only due to Ophelia's alcohol induced bravery and lowered inhibitions that she had wrestled the conversation out of the more cultured and learned woman's grasp. Until the introduction of the drink it had been the Trothgardian's place to remain quiet, and now as her companion chimed in about the spirits, she drew quiet and introspective. Moron... should have kept your mouth quiet. Now that Provost probably thinks you're some scamp that does belong back at Nether's Gate. It was actually sort of funny once she began to think on it more, but the conversation on ghosts was far too interesting to allow to pass without her continual interest.

Both the words of D`arcy and of Marcel were quick to dispel any lingering feelings of doubt from overclouding her excitement over having a house. She'd never had a house of her own before! What pair of twenty-something yahren old women - alone - had a house under their control? O could barely contain herself. A broad disarmed grin, one full of zeal and enthusiasm spread across her young face. She was glowing. She felt no self-doubt. In Trothgard a woman would be in charge of her family home, but that was only after her Rite of Passage. Here that didn't matter. It was no wonder the Provost held no great interest in the ritual of her homeland - there was no comparison to be made between the two.

Marcel's opened the proverbially door for allowing the girls' exit. Ophy, for one, was rather grateful, but managed to toss out a farewell as she shifted uncomfortably and then rose. "It's been a pleasure," she said, giving an innocent nod, blinking a few times and managing her own brand of non-verbal charm via naive smile. "Hope to see you at the show!" Her arm laced into D`arcy's as soon as her new friend stood and made for the door with all the grace of a thirteen yahren old scurrying from a school-crush.

Ophelia grabbed at the handle with her free hand and the pair prepared to pop into the hallway.

[Guido Cercatoro]

(OOC: good to see you back D'Arcy )

Despite the small quantity of the wine that she had imbibed, D’Arcy could feel the effects racing through her body. Her thoughts and actions appeared to take place in increasing slow motion and she scarcely heard Marcel reply to her words: “I am sure that your experience with the institute will be most invaluable…”

D’Arcy’s world was now spinning wildly. Yet, it was not unpleasant. It was as if the Provost was spinning her in some dance.

Ophelia’s attempt to lean forward towards the Provost was perhaps unwise given her current state of drunkenness. The spinning in her head unbalanced her move and she only succeeded in tripping into the desk, knocking a few paper off in the process. He head was lifted back up by the Provost and she managed to regain her position, still swaying a little. “I would recommend some air,” he said with a note of concern. ”The wine affects some more than others. However, I shall certainly accompany you on a ride when my duties permit.”

Marcel opened the door for the pair to leave. They would see Luca waiting in the hall as they left the building. The guard laughed as they passed, clearly used to seeing visitors leave a little the worse for wear…

[Guido Cercatoro]

(OOC: Finished here, I presume?)

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

OOC: Eep! Lost this one in the shuffle during vacation. Sorry, yeah, this'll be my final post.

IC:

Ophelia's showed a distinct uncaring over her lack of grace as her body moved with exaggerated laziness suggesting method which just wasn't there. Infact, Ophy was even under the impression that she was doing a lovely job of flirting with the Provost. If only she had the chance to watch herself as she missed her footing at the door threshold and burst into a fit of bubbly giggles nestled into an apology of sorts as her body pressed against the door frame.

Marcel's hand pulling up her chin did a great deal of help as far as continuing her belief that she was the town's greatest seductress. However, it was the town official who was effective. The touch of his hand and the gentle suggestion of heading outside were met with a bashful grin and blushed cheeks. "Right, yes... air," she mumbled. Only D`arcy was a distraction to her interest in the Provost what with her arm being entangled with hers. "You know where to find me," she said with a final giggle as the pair made out of the office.

Luca was given an appraising glimpse as they passed. So... so many boys, and so little time. She was already more the Panling than she realized. "Let's get out of here," Ophy whispered to her companion once they'd passed the boisterous guard and then headed off with intentions to Nether's Gate to gather belongings and the off to find their new house.

[Guido Cercatoro]

(OOC: finished and locked for skilling)