charity laroque loves only gold (sourcharity) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-23 18:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, charity laroque, miles baines |
see that girl, watch that scene
Who: Charity Laroque, Basil Norwood (Miles Baines), and other guests of House Lorium.
What: One of Lady Reinetta Lorium's famous garden parties.
When: Earlier this month.
Where: The palatial Lorium estate, Nobles' District, Emillion.
Warnings: None.
Status: Complete!
Lady Reinetta Lorium was said by all those in noble circles to have a green thumb so brilliant it was practically an emerald. In truth, she merely hired the most skilled gardeners in Valendia as part of her massive retinue of servants, but it wouldn't be polite to acknowledge such things in mixed company. Regardless of their origins, the Lorium house gardens were among the most beautiful in all of Emillion, and an invitation to one of Lady Reinetta's garden parties was a highly-prized item among all the beau monde. Charity Laroque had secured herself a permanent place on House Lorium's guest list by once airily remarking, pointedly within Lady Reinetta's earshot, that she was thinking about settling down with a husband finally, or at least a fiancé. No one knew how House Laroque had maintained its wealth for so many centuries, least of all in the most recent generation -- it was an old family, but Charity's mother Lady Dorian had been a scandalous unwed woman, and she herself was long dead besides. A controversial house, yes, but one that somehow always managed to provide enough gold for its young mistress, despite the girl whiling away her hours playing sailor on an airship for pennies a day. Lady Reinetta wanted that money, and her cunning son Marios wanted a bride. In truth, Charity had no intention of marrying anyone -- much less Marios Lorium, who was too clever by half and had a mean little smile. But getting closer to him, and to his mother, would give her intimate access to the gardens, the manor house... and Lady Reinetta's chambers, where she kept the famous sapphire necklace called Shiva's Eye. "I really ought to have worn a necklace!" Charity said, pouting as she gestured down toward the bosom barely contained by her low-cut couture gown. "I kept waffling back and forth on whether to wear one," she was telling Marios Lorium, "but I felt it might be too busy, you know? And now I've changed my mind. Now my chest just looks so bare! What do you think?" “Oh, no, I think you look lovely,” Marios gushed, as he took the opportunity to survey and assess the exact chest in question, obviously admiring the view. “Doesn’t she, Mr. Norwood?” No such thing as too bare, the other man thought behind his glass, which still brimmed with white wine to match the salmon hors d’oeuvres currently floating around the party. But that reaction belonged to Miles Baines — not Lord Basil Norwood, who instead flushed a self-conscious scarlet and kept his eyes firmly averted from the bosom on partial display. (It was a trick he’d practiced, which involved holding his breath for longer than comfort dictated. Presto: instant blush.) He hemmed and hawed a little, too, for good effect. “It’s, erm – you look quite nice, Lady Laroque.” But how could the stuttering man even tell, with his eyes firmly trained on the hawthorn tree above them? “Not that I know very much about ladies’ accessories, that is. Fashion isn’t—well, you can’t say it’s my strong suit!” Basil gave a nervous little laugh, a trilling and breathy thing still directed skyward, as if he were having this conversation with the clouds. "No need to be bashful, darling!" Charity chirped, offering Lord Norwood a ditzy little giggle and a wave of the hand. She sauntered closer to him, her décolletage drawing ever nearer. Basil watched its approach with trepidation. "A compliment is always a nice thing to pay a lady. And I can't imagine fashion is important when one has a talent like yours!" She clapped her hands together eagerly, like a child. "You must play for us, Mr. Norwood, really you must. I'm sure Marios's lady mother would be much obliged to have such a wonderful musician at her garden party! Wouldn't she, Marios?" "Well, quite," Marios said, obviously amused. Charity knew little of Basil Norwood, though his talents as a musician were known to most who travelled in polite circles. He was a poor relation, she recalled, or perhaps part of a branch that had married in? Regardless, he was new to gentility, and he didn't have much to offer The Golden Girl besides the mild amusement of his red-flushed cheeks. "Oh, do play us something," she cooed, playing the part of dumb, eager debutante to the hilt. "Look, the piano's unattended." And indeed, Lady Reinetta's grand piano (one of many, though the only one outdoors) stood stoically nearby, beneath a trellis garlanded in curling ivy. “I–I couldn’t,” Basil stammered back, still flushing, his hands entwining nervously in front of him. He was watching the lord Lorium closely, gauging the current flavour of the hostess’ son’s displeasure. “I couldn’t impose on the Loriums like this! It’s their garden party, after all, and it’d disturb everyone’s eating and their conversation and. No, no, I certainly couldn’t. Perhaps later, once things wind down a bit.” Those interlocked fingers, though, itched somewhat for the piano. (Old habits died hard. Miles had been a bard for ten years.) But Basil mustered his best smile into place. “Do either of you play an instrument?” he asked sweetly. He snared another piece of salmon as it passed. "Oh but surely you could!" Charity protested, pouting childishly. "It would be such fun." She was promptly distracted by the attendant with the salmon, and began picking at it daintily. "I can't say I've an especial gift," Lord Lorium said, "but I was made to practise the violin as a child." He grinned. "The blasted thing gave my mother no end of grief from noise, though, so in the end it was decided the lessons should cease." "I can play the tambourine," Charity declared, lifting her piece of salmon dramatically into the air to punctuate the statement. It was clear that in Charity's mind (or at least, the mind of the character she always portrayed), a talent for the tambourine was a hard-won and rare skill, rather than the sort of thing anyone with a brain and functional limbs could achieve via a shaking motion. A brief flicker passed across Basil’s face, but it was swiftly repressed in favour of a seemingly innocent, guileless remark: “The tambourine! And what of the triangle, perhaps?” Charity Laroque was a fixture at these parties, and the mime firmly believed he’d ranked and classified her long ago: all superficial prettiness and flair, with very little substance beneath. Blondes like her were a dime a dozen at noble gatherings, with the trappings of elegance but none of the meat. And that, of course, was exactly how Charity liked it. Made it so much easier to case estates, to glean precious information from the unsuspecting and condescending. As she swanned about the Lorium gardens, absorbing bits and pieces of family history from Marios's idle small talk, she could already feel the sweet pearl clasp of Shiva's Eye around her neck. "The triangle is trickier," she said, leaning forward conspiratorially as if telling Basil a great and powerful secret. "Because you have to time it, you see." With her free hand, she pantomimed conducting a grand orchestra. "Da... da... daa... TING!" A brightly mimed tap to the triangle. "With a tambourine you can sort of just find your own rhythm. Go where your heart takes you. It's quite freeing, really." “Fascinating,” Basil trilled. Beside them, Marios rolled his eyes. The lord watched his chatty bard guests gravitating towards each other; he measured the closing distance between the other man and woman, considered the nature of privacy and third wheels, and came to some sort of conclusion. Marios leaned in closer to Charity himself, one hand settling on her arm and pulling her over for an actual whisper: “Would you like a private tour of the manor? Only a select few get to see the interior at these garden parties, you know.” While Charity’s smile sharpened, Basil sagged a little in relief. (He could get back to prowling the Lorium’s guests as planned; he’d been chipping away at the dowager countess Blanchard for quite some time this year, and he believed he spotted her over by the canapes.) “I believe that’s my cue to leave, A charm, as always, Lady Laroque,” Basil hovered, pressing a kiss of farewell to the back of the woman’s hand while Marios’ arm entwined tighter with hers, a proprietary gesture. Jealousy could accomplish so very much. Charity had already forgotten Basil, paying little mind to the kiss on her hand. He had receded into the background like a distant humming, suddenly far far away from an all-too-achievable goal. "Why yes, Marios, I'd like that very much." She fluttered her golden eyelashes, leaving Lord Lorium to awkwardly bid Lord Norwood farewell before he turned her toward the house proper. And toward Shiva's Eye, twinkling blue and cold inside. |