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Since the unfortunate incident last year when Lord Mateos had lost his trousers and gone head first into the Aegean, Elysia hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with him properly since then. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was avoiding her, or if they just hadn’t had even the slightest bit of a relationship prior to that point, but she felt that since she’d seen him without his bottoms on, that bonded them at least a little bit. Ensuring that she never came empty handed to anything, she had her basket with her and inside were the sorts of treats that her cook made in order to tempt anyone out of a bad mood. That wasn’t to say that Lord Mateos was perpetually grumpy, but he wasn’t the most jovial of men and she’d decided that feeding him might go a long way towards making him more chatty. Wine definitely would.
In that, she’d taken a tip out of Lord Elias’s arsenal of persuasion tactics and come prepared with a bottle of fine vintage wine as well. That might or might not have come from Elias’s stash of the stuff. He had left her the bottle, after all. She moved through the streets toward the Antonis villa and strode through the gates and up to the front door, where she knocked and waited patiently. The steward knew her by sight as the wife to the late King Minas’s Master Informer, who had then been, and kind of still was, Queen Persephone’s Master Informer. It was well known in Athenia that while Elysia was not employed by the crown, she was definitely an extension of her husband and to speak to her was to speak to Cicero. They did not hide things from one another. Mostly.
“I would like to speak with Lord Mateos, if he is available?” she said, smiling at the steward who was not smiling in return. The man’s eyes drifted to the basket and Elysia merely kept right on smiling, not explaining.
”This way,” the man said, moving aside for her. She stepped into the house, touching her fingers to her hair to ensure that her curls were still in place and waited for the door to be shut. The steward eyed her and then gestured for her to follow him as he led the way through the house and to the well lit sitting room. Inside there were chairs and a balcony that overlooked an inner courtyard. ”What here, Mistress,” the steward said and left the room.
She set the basket down on the coffee table and loosely crossed her arms over her chest as she looked around the room while she waited. The minutes passed and she dropped down onto one of the klines, prepared to wait all afternoon if necessary. As soon as she’d decided that, she was up again, wandering the room, running her fingertips along the curving bodies of the statues present, inspecting the decorative art, and then moving out to the balcony to look down into the courtyard, her back to the door.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Since the unfortunate incident last year when Lord Mateos had lost his trousers and gone head first into the Aegean, Elysia hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with him properly since then. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was avoiding her, or if they just hadn’t had even the slightest bit of a relationship prior to that point, but she felt that since she’d seen him without his bottoms on, that bonded them at least a little bit. Ensuring that she never came empty handed to anything, she had her basket with her and inside were the sorts of treats that her cook made in order to tempt anyone out of a bad mood. That wasn’t to say that Lord Mateos was perpetually grumpy, but he wasn’t the most jovial of men and she’d decided that feeding him might go a long way towards making him more chatty. Wine definitely would.
In that, she’d taken a tip out of Lord Elias’s arsenal of persuasion tactics and come prepared with a bottle of fine vintage wine as well. That might or might not have come from Elias’s stash of the stuff. He had left her the bottle, after all. She moved through the streets toward the Antonis villa and strode through the gates and up to the front door, where she knocked and waited patiently. The steward knew her by sight as the wife to the late King Minas’s Master Informer, who had then been, and kind of still was, Queen Persephone’s Master Informer. It was well known in Athenia that while Elysia was not employed by the crown, she was definitely an extension of her husband and to speak to her was to speak to Cicero. They did not hide things from one another. Mostly.
“I would like to speak with Lord Mateos, if he is available?” she said, smiling at the steward who was not smiling in return. The man’s eyes drifted to the basket and Elysia merely kept right on smiling, not explaining.
”This way,” the man said, moving aside for her. She stepped into the house, touching her fingers to her hair to ensure that her curls were still in place and waited for the door to be shut. The steward eyed her and then gestured for her to follow him as he led the way through the house and to the well lit sitting room. Inside there were chairs and a balcony that overlooked an inner courtyard. ”What here, Mistress,” the steward said and left the room.
She set the basket down on the coffee table and loosely crossed her arms over her chest as she looked around the room while she waited. The minutes passed and she dropped down onto one of the klines, prepared to wait all afternoon if necessary. As soon as she’d decided that, she was up again, wandering the room, running her fingertips along the curving bodies of the statues present, inspecting the decorative art, and then moving out to the balcony to look down into the courtyard, her back to the door.
Since the unfortunate incident last year when Lord Mateos had lost his trousers and gone head first into the Aegean, Elysia hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with him properly since then. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was avoiding her, or if they just hadn’t had even the slightest bit of a relationship prior to that point, but she felt that since she’d seen him without his bottoms on, that bonded them at least a little bit. Ensuring that she never came empty handed to anything, she had her basket with her and inside were the sorts of treats that her cook made in order to tempt anyone out of a bad mood. That wasn’t to say that Lord Mateos was perpetually grumpy, but he wasn’t the most jovial of men and she’d decided that feeding him might go a long way towards making him more chatty. Wine definitely would.
In that, she’d taken a tip out of Lord Elias’s arsenal of persuasion tactics and come prepared with a bottle of fine vintage wine as well. That might or might not have come from Elias’s stash of the stuff. He had left her the bottle, after all. She moved through the streets toward the Antonis villa and strode through the gates and up to the front door, where she knocked and waited patiently. The steward knew her by sight as the wife to the late King Minas’s Master Informer, who had then been, and kind of still was, Queen Persephone’s Master Informer. It was well known in Athenia that while Elysia was not employed by the crown, she was definitely an extension of her husband and to speak to her was to speak to Cicero. They did not hide things from one another. Mostly.
“I would like to speak with Lord Mateos, if he is available?” she said, smiling at the steward who was not smiling in return. The man’s eyes drifted to the basket and Elysia merely kept right on smiling, not explaining.
”This way,” the man said, moving aside for her. She stepped into the house, touching her fingers to her hair to ensure that her curls were still in place and waited for the door to be shut. The steward eyed her and then gestured for her to follow him as he led the way through the house and to the well lit sitting room. Inside there were chairs and a balcony that overlooked an inner courtyard. ”What here, Mistress,” the steward said and left the room.
She set the basket down on the coffee table and loosely crossed her arms over her chest as she looked around the room while she waited. The minutes passed and she dropped down onto one of the klines, prepared to wait all afternoon if necessary. As soon as she’d decided that, she was up again, wandering the room, running her fingertips along the curving bodies of the statues present, inspecting the decorative art, and then moving out to the balcony to look down into the courtyard, her back to the door.
Steady…
Mateos stood utterly still, two feet planted in the dirt and arms taught. At first glance, or an even longer stare, he appeared to be a statue, meticulously sculped from the strongest granite and painted with detail that would rival the man it was modeled after. Save for the gentle tousling of his hair in the wind and the twitch of his eyes, Mateos might as well have been a statue, for the man’s mental strength rivaled that of his motionless physical form. No thoughts, no emotion clouded the man’s mind as he stood, silent body and silent mind, frozen in time.
Thwink!
A mere blink and one would have missed it; releasing the tension in only his right hand, the arrow flew straight and true from Mateos’ bow, burying its tip in the wooden target one hundred steps from where he stood. At long last, he allowed for the rest of his body to deflate, breaking position only because he had expended the last of the arrows in his quiver and had to go refill his quiver if he wanted to continue shooting.
He slung the bow across his back and made the quick trek downrange to retrieve his arrows. For Mateos, archery was a rare treat. As a Commander in the army, his talents were primarily used in strategic planning, secondarily stretched into maintaining and training his own provincial soldiers. Of course, he was expected to master each weapon to sufficiently teach, train, and spar with his men, but archers were a special breed that were entrusted to their own training. There was no training or sparring with archers, only practice with occasional inspection to ensure that proper technique was employed consistently and correctly. But, in contrast to the relatively hands-on approach Mateos was used to having with soldiers of other specialties, practicing archery was when he was able to secure some much-needed alone time, to get lost in his own thoughts every now and then and focus on only himself, the target, and the arrow.
Mateos reached the target and knelt beside it, briefly tallying up his score. Three bullseyes, a nine, and a seven… He scowled. That’s two less than last round. Disappointed in his performance, he quickly pulled his arrows from the soft wood, gave them a quick once-over to ensure that none were fatally damaged, and headed back up range. I’ll shoot at least a forty-eight this round. That should sufficiently compensate for my poor score. He returned to the marked starting point, rooting his feet firmly in the dirt before unslinging his bow and returning to his shooting stance. He had just knocked an arrow, preparing to pull the string back when he heard footsteps.
‘My Lord, you have a guest.’
Mateos answered without breaking his stance, eyes still fixed firmly on his target and hands still gripping his weapon. ”Pray tell.” It wasn’t often he received visitors; it was even rarer when they arrived without having scheduled an appointment. ’Mistress Elysia of Aetaea awaits you in the receiving room, My Lord.’ Mateos stood motionless for a few seconds longer than before. ”…who?”
After a succession of back-and-forth exchanges between Mateos and his servant, who by now was more than familiar with his Lord’s severe lack of political knowledge beyond the Royal family and Heads of Households, the servant boy led his master to the sitting room where his guest was, indeed, sitting (he more than anyone could appreciate the straightforward nature of the room). Or, at least she was, for just as Mateos had appeared in the doorway had his guest risen to her feet and had proceeded to round what seemed like the entire room, examining his family’s artifacts and decorations before promptly coming to a halt on the room’s attached balcony. Mateos stood motionless and silent as she paraded around the room, watching and examining her as she his family’s room. She did not see him standing there, of course. No one ever did. He was so still and quiet that even his own siblings could sometimes walk right past him without even noticing his presence.
Now, with his guest seemingly satisfied with her thorough inspection of the room, Mateos stepped towards her from behind, stopping himself at an appropriate distance. As not to startle her, as Vasia would insist he did every time he approached from the rear, he tried to make his footsteps sufficiently loud. Hopefully it wasn’t too loud of a stomp.
”Madam Elysia of Aetaea, it is a pleasure to meet you here this fine morning.” The words sounded awfully stiff and formal in Mateos’ growly baritone, the voice he normally used for barking orders, but when paired with the overly courteous bow he gave, too courteous for a woman of her station, his overly polite mannerisms could be charming, in a way.
That’s what Vasia told him, at least.
”Might I ask the rationale for your visit today?” He couldn’t help but stare blankly at the woman standing before him as he racked his brain for the circumstances of their previous meetings. Surely a woman I have not met at all would show up unannounced….? He said nothing, of course, his face and eyes utterly devoid of emotion as he stood in silence, awaiting her reply.
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Steady…
Mateos stood utterly still, two feet planted in the dirt and arms taught. At first glance, or an even longer stare, he appeared to be a statue, meticulously sculped from the strongest granite and painted with detail that would rival the man it was modeled after. Save for the gentle tousling of his hair in the wind and the twitch of his eyes, Mateos might as well have been a statue, for the man’s mental strength rivaled that of his motionless physical form. No thoughts, no emotion clouded the man’s mind as he stood, silent body and silent mind, frozen in time.
Thwink!
A mere blink and one would have missed it; releasing the tension in only his right hand, the arrow flew straight and true from Mateos’ bow, burying its tip in the wooden target one hundred steps from where he stood. At long last, he allowed for the rest of his body to deflate, breaking position only because he had expended the last of the arrows in his quiver and had to go refill his quiver if he wanted to continue shooting.
He slung the bow across his back and made the quick trek downrange to retrieve his arrows. For Mateos, archery was a rare treat. As a Commander in the army, his talents were primarily used in strategic planning, secondarily stretched into maintaining and training his own provincial soldiers. Of course, he was expected to master each weapon to sufficiently teach, train, and spar with his men, but archers were a special breed that were entrusted to their own training. There was no training or sparring with archers, only practice with occasional inspection to ensure that proper technique was employed consistently and correctly. But, in contrast to the relatively hands-on approach Mateos was used to having with soldiers of other specialties, practicing archery was when he was able to secure some much-needed alone time, to get lost in his own thoughts every now and then and focus on only himself, the target, and the arrow.
Mateos reached the target and knelt beside it, briefly tallying up his score. Three bullseyes, a nine, and a seven… He scowled. That’s two less than last round. Disappointed in his performance, he quickly pulled his arrows from the soft wood, gave them a quick once-over to ensure that none were fatally damaged, and headed back up range. I’ll shoot at least a forty-eight this round. That should sufficiently compensate for my poor score. He returned to the marked starting point, rooting his feet firmly in the dirt before unslinging his bow and returning to his shooting stance. He had just knocked an arrow, preparing to pull the string back when he heard footsteps.
‘My Lord, you have a guest.’
Mateos answered without breaking his stance, eyes still fixed firmly on his target and hands still gripping his weapon. ”Pray tell.” It wasn’t often he received visitors; it was even rarer when they arrived without having scheduled an appointment. ’Mistress Elysia of Aetaea awaits you in the receiving room, My Lord.’ Mateos stood motionless for a few seconds longer than before. ”…who?”
After a succession of back-and-forth exchanges between Mateos and his servant, who by now was more than familiar with his Lord’s severe lack of political knowledge beyond the Royal family and Heads of Households, the servant boy led his master to the sitting room where his guest was, indeed, sitting (he more than anyone could appreciate the straightforward nature of the room). Or, at least she was, for just as Mateos had appeared in the doorway had his guest risen to her feet and had proceeded to round what seemed like the entire room, examining his family’s artifacts and decorations before promptly coming to a halt on the room’s attached balcony. Mateos stood motionless and silent as she paraded around the room, watching and examining her as she his family’s room. She did not see him standing there, of course. No one ever did. He was so still and quiet that even his own siblings could sometimes walk right past him without even noticing his presence.
Now, with his guest seemingly satisfied with her thorough inspection of the room, Mateos stepped towards her from behind, stopping himself at an appropriate distance. As not to startle her, as Vasia would insist he did every time he approached from the rear, he tried to make his footsteps sufficiently loud. Hopefully it wasn’t too loud of a stomp.
”Madam Elysia of Aetaea, it is a pleasure to meet you here this fine morning.” The words sounded awfully stiff and formal in Mateos’ growly baritone, the voice he normally used for barking orders, but when paired with the overly courteous bow he gave, too courteous for a woman of her station, his overly polite mannerisms could be charming, in a way.
That’s what Vasia told him, at least.
”Might I ask the rationale for your visit today?” He couldn’t help but stare blankly at the woman standing before him as he racked his brain for the circumstances of their previous meetings. Surely a woman I have not met at all would show up unannounced….? He said nothing, of course, his face and eyes utterly devoid of emotion as he stood in silence, awaiting her reply.
Steady…
Mateos stood utterly still, two feet planted in the dirt and arms taught. At first glance, or an even longer stare, he appeared to be a statue, meticulously sculped from the strongest granite and painted with detail that would rival the man it was modeled after. Save for the gentle tousling of his hair in the wind and the twitch of his eyes, Mateos might as well have been a statue, for the man’s mental strength rivaled that of his motionless physical form. No thoughts, no emotion clouded the man’s mind as he stood, silent body and silent mind, frozen in time.
Thwink!
A mere blink and one would have missed it; releasing the tension in only his right hand, the arrow flew straight and true from Mateos’ bow, burying its tip in the wooden target one hundred steps from where he stood. At long last, he allowed for the rest of his body to deflate, breaking position only because he had expended the last of the arrows in his quiver and had to go refill his quiver if he wanted to continue shooting.
He slung the bow across his back and made the quick trek downrange to retrieve his arrows. For Mateos, archery was a rare treat. As a Commander in the army, his talents were primarily used in strategic planning, secondarily stretched into maintaining and training his own provincial soldiers. Of course, he was expected to master each weapon to sufficiently teach, train, and spar with his men, but archers were a special breed that were entrusted to their own training. There was no training or sparring with archers, only practice with occasional inspection to ensure that proper technique was employed consistently and correctly. But, in contrast to the relatively hands-on approach Mateos was used to having with soldiers of other specialties, practicing archery was when he was able to secure some much-needed alone time, to get lost in his own thoughts every now and then and focus on only himself, the target, and the arrow.
Mateos reached the target and knelt beside it, briefly tallying up his score. Three bullseyes, a nine, and a seven… He scowled. That’s two less than last round. Disappointed in his performance, he quickly pulled his arrows from the soft wood, gave them a quick once-over to ensure that none were fatally damaged, and headed back up range. I’ll shoot at least a forty-eight this round. That should sufficiently compensate for my poor score. He returned to the marked starting point, rooting his feet firmly in the dirt before unslinging his bow and returning to his shooting stance. He had just knocked an arrow, preparing to pull the string back when he heard footsteps.
‘My Lord, you have a guest.’
Mateos answered without breaking his stance, eyes still fixed firmly on his target and hands still gripping his weapon. ”Pray tell.” It wasn’t often he received visitors; it was even rarer when they arrived without having scheduled an appointment. ’Mistress Elysia of Aetaea awaits you in the receiving room, My Lord.’ Mateos stood motionless for a few seconds longer than before. ”…who?”
After a succession of back-and-forth exchanges between Mateos and his servant, who by now was more than familiar with his Lord’s severe lack of political knowledge beyond the Royal family and Heads of Households, the servant boy led his master to the sitting room where his guest was, indeed, sitting (he more than anyone could appreciate the straightforward nature of the room). Or, at least she was, for just as Mateos had appeared in the doorway had his guest risen to her feet and had proceeded to round what seemed like the entire room, examining his family’s artifacts and decorations before promptly coming to a halt on the room’s attached balcony. Mateos stood motionless and silent as she paraded around the room, watching and examining her as she his family’s room. She did not see him standing there, of course. No one ever did. He was so still and quiet that even his own siblings could sometimes walk right past him without even noticing his presence.
Now, with his guest seemingly satisfied with her thorough inspection of the room, Mateos stepped towards her from behind, stopping himself at an appropriate distance. As not to startle her, as Vasia would insist he did every time he approached from the rear, he tried to make his footsteps sufficiently loud. Hopefully it wasn’t too loud of a stomp.
”Madam Elysia of Aetaea, it is a pleasure to meet you here this fine morning.” The words sounded awfully stiff and formal in Mateos’ growly baritone, the voice he normally used for barking orders, but when paired with the overly courteous bow he gave, too courteous for a woman of her station, his overly polite mannerisms could be charming, in a way.
That’s what Vasia told him, at least.
”Might I ask the rationale for your visit today?” He couldn’t help but stare blankly at the woman standing before him as he racked his brain for the circumstances of their previous meetings. Surely a woman I have not met at all would show up unannounced….? He said nothing, of course, his face and eyes utterly devoid of emotion as he stood in silence, awaiting her reply.
She turned smoothly around at his approach, not having seen him. Offering him an appropriate curtsey, she clasped her hands behind her back and smiled at him. The stilted nature of his words did not bother her in the least and she gave a shrug of one shoulder.
“I should hope it is a pleasure,” she agreed. “It would be unfortunate for me, especially, if this unasked for visit was the cause of agony, but I think we may both sail past that notion. As you have said, it is a pleasure.”
He returned her curtsey with a bow so formal that she might have been a lady and Elysia beamed at him. Obviously he was not confused as to the differences in rank but she was prepared to bask in the unsolicited kindness all the same. It was something she had not expected from him and she found it rather endearing. Obviously she’d need to drop by more often if he was going to be this sweet. The rumors she’d heard about him had bespoke a man quite as in love with the military as narcissus was with his own reflection.
“You’re all charm,” she laughed, wishing she’d extended her hand for him to kiss instead.
”Might I ask the rationale for your visit today?” he asked and she could tell by the slackness of his face that he had not the vaguest idea of who she might be, outside of her name. However, she wasn’t going to help him with it. Not right at first, at any rate. Elysia unclasped her hands from her back and brought them round to the front, smiling up at him as she took on a demure pose, lacing her fingers together and holding his bemused gaze with a warm one of her own.
“Nothing so rational I’m afraid, Commander.” She took the liberty of stepping around him and gestured to the basket she’d brought with her. “With Athenia under such great distress, I thought to myself, friends must be in such short supply, and I have been remiss in attending you. Your sister and I know each other fairly well, but I realized that, apart from the display of your fine posterior last year at the ship festival, we haven’t really spoken. Which is a shame, really, and to make it up to you, I have brought treats.”
She hadn’t lied exactly. While it was true that she and Vasia did know each other passably well, they weren’t so close that Elysia knew all the woman’s secrets. That would change, of course, if Elysia had her way, but her interests were by no means confined to one or two siblings. The wife of the master informer, she considered it her duty to know everyone. Or, at least enough about them to make it worth her husband’s time.
“Unfortunately, there hasn’t ever been a fantastic time to pick up our shallow acquaintance, so I made one. Do you prefer baklava or honey tarts?” She moved over to the basket and pulled away the cloth covering.
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She turned smoothly around at his approach, not having seen him. Offering him an appropriate curtsey, she clasped her hands behind her back and smiled at him. The stilted nature of his words did not bother her in the least and she gave a shrug of one shoulder.
“I should hope it is a pleasure,” she agreed. “It would be unfortunate for me, especially, if this unasked for visit was the cause of agony, but I think we may both sail past that notion. As you have said, it is a pleasure.”
He returned her curtsey with a bow so formal that she might have been a lady and Elysia beamed at him. Obviously he was not confused as to the differences in rank but she was prepared to bask in the unsolicited kindness all the same. It was something she had not expected from him and she found it rather endearing. Obviously she’d need to drop by more often if he was going to be this sweet. The rumors she’d heard about him had bespoke a man quite as in love with the military as narcissus was with his own reflection.
“You’re all charm,” she laughed, wishing she’d extended her hand for him to kiss instead.
”Might I ask the rationale for your visit today?” he asked and she could tell by the slackness of his face that he had not the vaguest idea of who she might be, outside of her name. However, she wasn’t going to help him with it. Not right at first, at any rate. Elysia unclasped her hands from her back and brought them round to the front, smiling up at him as she took on a demure pose, lacing her fingers together and holding his bemused gaze with a warm one of her own.
“Nothing so rational I’m afraid, Commander.” She took the liberty of stepping around him and gestured to the basket she’d brought with her. “With Athenia under such great distress, I thought to myself, friends must be in such short supply, and I have been remiss in attending you. Your sister and I know each other fairly well, but I realized that, apart from the display of your fine posterior last year at the ship festival, we haven’t really spoken. Which is a shame, really, and to make it up to you, I have brought treats.”
She hadn’t lied exactly. While it was true that she and Vasia did know each other passably well, they weren’t so close that Elysia knew all the woman’s secrets. That would change, of course, if Elysia had her way, but her interests were by no means confined to one or two siblings. The wife of the master informer, she considered it her duty to know everyone. Or, at least enough about them to make it worth her husband’s time.
“Unfortunately, there hasn’t ever been a fantastic time to pick up our shallow acquaintance, so I made one. Do you prefer baklava or honey tarts?” She moved over to the basket and pulled away the cloth covering.
She turned smoothly around at his approach, not having seen him. Offering him an appropriate curtsey, she clasped her hands behind her back and smiled at him. The stilted nature of his words did not bother her in the least and she gave a shrug of one shoulder.
“I should hope it is a pleasure,” she agreed. “It would be unfortunate for me, especially, if this unasked for visit was the cause of agony, but I think we may both sail past that notion. As you have said, it is a pleasure.”
He returned her curtsey with a bow so formal that she might have been a lady and Elysia beamed at him. Obviously he was not confused as to the differences in rank but she was prepared to bask in the unsolicited kindness all the same. It was something she had not expected from him and she found it rather endearing. Obviously she’d need to drop by more often if he was going to be this sweet. The rumors she’d heard about him had bespoke a man quite as in love with the military as narcissus was with his own reflection.
“You’re all charm,” she laughed, wishing she’d extended her hand for him to kiss instead.
”Might I ask the rationale for your visit today?” he asked and she could tell by the slackness of his face that he had not the vaguest idea of who she might be, outside of her name. However, she wasn’t going to help him with it. Not right at first, at any rate. Elysia unclasped her hands from her back and brought them round to the front, smiling up at him as she took on a demure pose, lacing her fingers together and holding his bemused gaze with a warm one of her own.
“Nothing so rational I’m afraid, Commander.” She took the liberty of stepping around him and gestured to the basket she’d brought with her. “With Athenia under such great distress, I thought to myself, friends must be in such short supply, and I have been remiss in attending you. Your sister and I know each other fairly well, but I realized that, apart from the display of your fine posterior last year at the ship festival, we haven’t really spoken. Which is a shame, really, and to make it up to you, I have brought treats.”
She hadn’t lied exactly. While it was true that she and Vasia did know each other passably well, they weren’t so close that Elysia knew all the woman’s secrets. That would change, of course, if Elysia had her way, but her interests were by no means confined to one or two siblings. The wife of the master informer, she considered it her duty to know everyone. Or, at least enough about them to make it worth her husband’s time.
“Unfortunately, there hasn’t ever been a fantastic time to pick up our shallow acquaintance, so I made one. Do you prefer baklava or honey tarts?” She moved over to the basket and pulled away the cloth covering.
For all her words, Elysia had unfortunately only left Mateos in a greater state of confusion than he was in when she first arrived. Friends in short supply? I’m a soldier…. As he stood in the doorway between the balcony and the sitting room, he side-stepped to allow her an easier passage around his broad frame, after which he turned and followed her back inside. ”Err, baklava, please.” He took the pastry in his hand quite reluctantly, eyeing the basket disappointedly. He was hoping she might have supplied something a bit more….filling than sweets. His body was a war machine, one that was fueling by cheese and fish more than it was sugar. He took a tentative nibble from the many-layered dessert. It was…good? At least he thought it might be. His tongue was overwhelmed by its sticky-sweetness, and the dough melted always almost instantly. He just couldn’t see the appeal of consuming a treat that had absolutely no sustenance to it; he was certain he could eat the entire batch and still have room for two more.
”It is very, very sweet, Mistress Elysia. I must applaud your ability to fit so much sugar into one tiny morsel.” He popped the rest of the baklava into his mouth, where it dissipated in seconds. ”I am forgetting my manners. First order of business, I must apologize profusely for subjecting your eyes to my act of indecent exposure at last year’s festivities. It was unbecoming of me. Please, accept my sincerest apology.” He bowed again, almost as deep as the one he gave her during his introduction. ”Secondly, please, sit anywhere you’d like. Might I get you anything?” He swept his arm out, gesturing to the silk cushions and sofas arranged around the room. He did not move, preferring to stay standing, but most womenfolk seemed more inclined to sit.
With the formalities of hosting out of the way, Mateos decided to redirect the conversation to something more substantial to address his remaining confusion. ”So, I must ask, you are not here to see Vasia? You are here to see me? For…no particular reason?” He made no effort to conceal his visible bafflement. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of flippant friendship. Why be more than acquainted if you had nothing in common? He had friends, of course; his family was very supportive, and he found kinship with his fellow soldiers, his own brothers-in-arms. But, this woman? She was a woman, what would he have in common with her? At least with Vasia, they shared blood, even if she was just as difficult and emotional as any other female. ”I apologize, I just do not understand. Let me attempt to reiterate: you are here to make…’small-talk’? With me?”
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For all her words, Elysia had unfortunately only left Mateos in a greater state of confusion than he was in when she first arrived. Friends in short supply? I’m a soldier…. As he stood in the doorway between the balcony and the sitting room, he side-stepped to allow her an easier passage around his broad frame, after which he turned and followed her back inside. ”Err, baklava, please.” He took the pastry in his hand quite reluctantly, eyeing the basket disappointedly. He was hoping she might have supplied something a bit more….filling than sweets. His body was a war machine, one that was fueling by cheese and fish more than it was sugar. He took a tentative nibble from the many-layered dessert. It was…good? At least he thought it might be. His tongue was overwhelmed by its sticky-sweetness, and the dough melted always almost instantly. He just couldn’t see the appeal of consuming a treat that had absolutely no sustenance to it; he was certain he could eat the entire batch and still have room for two more.
”It is very, very sweet, Mistress Elysia. I must applaud your ability to fit so much sugar into one tiny morsel.” He popped the rest of the baklava into his mouth, where it dissipated in seconds. ”I am forgetting my manners. First order of business, I must apologize profusely for subjecting your eyes to my act of indecent exposure at last year’s festivities. It was unbecoming of me. Please, accept my sincerest apology.” He bowed again, almost as deep as the one he gave her during his introduction. ”Secondly, please, sit anywhere you’d like. Might I get you anything?” He swept his arm out, gesturing to the silk cushions and sofas arranged around the room. He did not move, preferring to stay standing, but most womenfolk seemed more inclined to sit.
With the formalities of hosting out of the way, Mateos decided to redirect the conversation to something more substantial to address his remaining confusion. ”So, I must ask, you are not here to see Vasia? You are here to see me? For…no particular reason?” He made no effort to conceal his visible bafflement. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of flippant friendship. Why be more than acquainted if you had nothing in common? He had friends, of course; his family was very supportive, and he found kinship with his fellow soldiers, his own brothers-in-arms. But, this woman? She was a woman, what would he have in common with her? At least with Vasia, they shared blood, even if she was just as difficult and emotional as any other female. ”I apologize, I just do not understand. Let me attempt to reiterate: you are here to make…’small-talk’? With me?”
For all her words, Elysia had unfortunately only left Mateos in a greater state of confusion than he was in when she first arrived. Friends in short supply? I’m a soldier…. As he stood in the doorway between the balcony and the sitting room, he side-stepped to allow her an easier passage around his broad frame, after which he turned and followed her back inside. ”Err, baklava, please.” He took the pastry in his hand quite reluctantly, eyeing the basket disappointedly. He was hoping she might have supplied something a bit more….filling than sweets. His body was a war machine, one that was fueling by cheese and fish more than it was sugar. He took a tentative nibble from the many-layered dessert. It was…good? At least he thought it might be. His tongue was overwhelmed by its sticky-sweetness, and the dough melted always almost instantly. He just couldn’t see the appeal of consuming a treat that had absolutely no sustenance to it; he was certain he could eat the entire batch and still have room for two more.
”It is very, very sweet, Mistress Elysia. I must applaud your ability to fit so much sugar into one tiny morsel.” He popped the rest of the baklava into his mouth, where it dissipated in seconds. ”I am forgetting my manners. First order of business, I must apologize profusely for subjecting your eyes to my act of indecent exposure at last year’s festivities. It was unbecoming of me. Please, accept my sincerest apology.” He bowed again, almost as deep as the one he gave her during his introduction. ”Secondly, please, sit anywhere you’d like. Might I get you anything?” He swept his arm out, gesturing to the silk cushions and sofas arranged around the room. He did not move, preferring to stay standing, but most womenfolk seemed more inclined to sit.
With the formalities of hosting out of the way, Mateos decided to redirect the conversation to something more substantial to address his remaining confusion. ”So, I must ask, you are not here to see Vasia? You are here to see me? For…no particular reason?” He made no effort to conceal his visible bafflement. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of flippant friendship. Why be more than acquainted if you had nothing in common? He had friends, of course; his family was very supportive, and he found kinship with his fellow soldiers, his own brothers-in-arms. But, this woman? She was a woman, what would he have in common with her? At least with Vasia, they shared blood, even if she was just as difficult and emotional as any other female. ”I apologize, I just do not understand. Let me attempt to reiterate: you are here to make…’small-talk’? With me?”
His hesitation in picking out what he wanted did not deter her. If she took the societal cues that she fully understood, which was his preference that she not be here, then she’d never get anywhere. The trick was simply to ignore people’s wants and to make yourself so unbelievably charming, that they forget they ever wanted you gone in the first place. The evident disappointment on his face only made her interested as she handed over the baklava he didn’t really want, but was obviously going to eat. Why? If he didn’t want it, why go to the trouble? Interesting. So, despite his apparent dislike, he did care enough about a stranger’s feelings to not want to offend. He might be a sweet person underneath it all. She made a mental note of that.
”It is very, very sweet, Mistress Elysia. I must applaud your ability to fit so much sugar into one tiny morsel.”
“I would that I could take credit for that,” she said, half raising her hands before clasping them together in front of her and giving a pretty shrug. “But I am absolutely useless in a kitchen. It is my cook who has that blessed ability. I’m glad you like it,” she pressed, feeling pretty sure that he didn’t like it and maintaining a kind smile throughout the conversation.
”I am forgetting my manners. First order of business, I must apologize profusely for subjecting your eyes to my act of indecent exposure at last year’s festivities. It was unbecoming of me. Please, accept my sincerest apology.” The way Lord Mateos spoke made it sound like he was reading off a list that someone had written for him and that brought a delighted smile to Elysia’s lips. She beamed at him.
“It was nothing to apologize for, Commander, I assure you. Highlight of my day.” And then, to preserve his modesty a little bit, she added, “But I thank you for being kind enough to offer the apology in any case and I will also extend my own apology for enjoying it quite as profusely as I did. You do yourself credit sir, to the no doubt constant exercise you do. That was as fine a bottom as I have ever witnessed. Not that I have seen a great very many,” she added quickly.
She nodded to his bow and then her eyebrows raised when he continued in the same fashion as before.
”Secondly, please, sit anywhere you’d like. Might I get you anything?”
“Oh,” she looked toward a kline and settled on it promptly. There was nothing men liked so much as being helpful, she’d found and so, even though she had no particular desire for it, she took up his offer. “Wine or milk if you’ve got it,” she said with a careless gesture. “Whichever is easiest.”
”So, I must ask, you are not here to see Vasia? You are here to see me? For…no particular reason?”
“That’s right,” Elysia wasn’t looking at him anymore and instead had her eyes downwards at her lap, focused on sifting the fabric of her dress to make it more presentable. She liked for the ripples to lay in exactly the proper way so that she was framed in the best possible light. After all, she was a full believer in the notion that women were smart, capable, and also a decoration to any room they happened to be in. She was all three of these things and would be doing no one, not even herself a service, if she allowed her dress to be arranged awkwardly.
Her answer seemed to confuse the commander. He took on the most wonderful baffled expression and she could practically see his thoughts running across his face. Elysia did not help him along, either. Instead, she clasped her hands against one of her knees, waiting for him to be the one to break the silence, and in time, he did. ”I apologize, I just do not understand. Let me attempt to reiterate: you are here to make…’small-talk’? With me?”
“Of course,” she said soothingly. “We do not know each other as we ought. I came to fix that. Surely you, as a great commander of men, will understand the importance of making yourself known to one and all of the important people in Athenia. My husband is the Master Informer, my lord, and I would be remiss in my duties to my husband if I did not represent him to you, when he cannot come himself.” Could not...would not...either way it happened to work out.
“Besides, I find reports of you to be most intriguing and I came to see for myself if you be the measure of the man that you are touted to be.”
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His hesitation in picking out what he wanted did not deter her. If she took the societal cues that she fully understood, which was his preference that she not be here, then she’d never get anywhere. The trick was simply to ignore people’s wants and to make yourself so unbelievably charming, that they forget they ever wanted you gone in the first place. The evident disappointment on his face only made her interested as she handed over the baklava he didn’t really want, but was obviously going to eat. Why? If he didn’t want it, why go to the trouble? Interesting. So, despite his apparent dislike, he did care enough about a stranger’s feelings to not want to offend. He might be a sweet person underneath it all. She made a mental note of that.
”It is very, very sweet, Mistress Elysia. I must applaud your ability to fit so much sugar into one tiny morsel.”
“I would that I could take credit for that,” she said, half raising her hands before clasping them together in front of her and giving a pretty shrug. “But I am absolutely useless in a kitchen. It is my cook who has that blessed ability. I’m glad you like it,” she pressed, feeling pretty sure that he didn’t like it and maintaining a kind smile throughout the conversation.
”I am forgetting my manners. First order of business, I must apologize profusely for subjecting your eyes to my act of indecent exposure at last year’s festivities. It was unbecoming of me. Please, accept my sincerest apology.” The way Lord Mateos spoke made it sound like he was reading off a list that someone had written for him and that brought a delighted smile to Elysia’s lips. She beamed at him.
“It was nothing to apologize for, Commander, I assure you. Highlight of my day.” And then, to preserve his modesty a little bit, she added, “But I thank you for being kind enough to offer the apology in any case and I will also extend my own apology for enjoying it quite as profusely as I did. You do yourself credit sir, to the no doubt constant exercise you do. That was as fine a bottom as I have ever witnessed. Not that I have seen a great very many,” she added quickly.
She nodded to his bow and then her eyebrows raised when he continued in the same fashion as before.
”Secondly, please, sit anywhere you’d like. Might I get you anything?”
“Oh,” she looked toward a kline and settled on it promptly. There was nothing men liked so much as being helpful, she’d found and so, even though she had no particular desire for it, she took up his offer. “Wine or milk if you’ve got it,” she said with a careless gesture. “Whichever is easiest.”
”So, I must ask, you are not here to see Vasia? You are here to see me? For…no particular reason?”
“That’s right,” Elysia wasn’t looking at him anymore and instead had her eyes downwards at her lap, focused on sifting the fabric of her dress to make it more presentable. She liked for the ripples to lay in exactly the proper way so that she was framed in the best possible light. After all, she was a full believer in the notion that women were smart, capable, and also a decoration to any room they happened to be in. She was all three of these things and would be doing no one, not even herself a service, if she allowed her dress to be arranged awkwardly.
Her answer seemed to confuse the commander. He took on the most wonderful baffled expression and she could practically see his thoughts running across his face. Elysia did not help him along, either. Instead, she clasped her hands against one of her knees, waiting for him to be the one to break the silence, and in time, he did. ”I apologize, I just do not understand. Let me attempt to reiterate: you are here to make…’small-talk’? With me?”
“Of course,” she said soothingly. “We do not know each other as we ought. I came to fix that. Surely you, as a great commander of men, will understand the importance of making yourself known to one and all of the important people in Athenia. My husband is the Master Informer, my lord, and I would be remiss in my duties to my husband if I did not represent him to you, when he cannot come himself.” Could not...would not...either way it happened to work out.
“Besides, I find reports of you to be most intriguing and I came to see for myself if you be the measure of the man that you are touted to be.”
His hesitation in picking out what he wanted did not deter her. If she took the societal cues that she fully understood, which was his preference that she not be here, then she’d never get anywhere. The trick was simply to ignore people’s wants and to make yourself so unbelievably charming, that they forget they ever wanted you gone in the first place. The evident disappointment on his face only made her interested as she handed over the baklava he didn’t really want, but was obviously going to eat. Why? If he didn’t want it, why go to the trouble? Interesting. So, despite his apparent dislike, he did care enough about a stranger’s feelings to not want to offend. He might be a sweet person underneath it all. She made a mental note of that.
”It is very, very sweet, Mistress Elysia. I must applaud your ability to fit so much sugar into one tiny morsel.”
“I would that I could take credit for that,” she said, half raising her hands before clasping them together in front of her and giving a pretty shrug. “But I am absolutely useless in a kitchen. It is my cook who has that blessed ability. I’m glad you like it,” she pressed, feeling pretty sure that he didn’t like it and maintaining a kind smile throughout the conversation.
”I am forgetting my manners. First order of business, I must apologize profusely for subjecting your eyes to my act of indecent exposure at last year’s festivities. It was unbecoming of me. Please, accept my sincerest apology.” The way Lord Mateos spoke made it sound like he was reading off a list that someone had written for him and that brought a delighted smile to Elysia’s lips. She beamed at him.
“It was nothing to apologize for, Commander, I assure you. Highlight of my day.” And then, to preserve his modesty a little bit, she added, “But I thank you for being kind enough to offer the apology in any case and I will also extend my own apology for enjoying it quite as profusely as I did. You do yourself credit sir, to the no doubt constant exercise you do. That was as fine a bottom as I have ever witnessed. Not that I have seen a great very many,” she added quickly.
She nodded to his bow and then her eyebrows raised when he continued in the same fashion as before.
”Secondly, please, sit anywhere you’d like. Might I get you anything?”
“Oh,” she looked toward a kline and settled on it promptly. There was nothing men liked so much as being helpful, she’d found and so, even though she had no particular desire for it, she took up his offer. “Wine or milk if you’ve got it,” she said with a careless gesture. “Whichever is easiest.”
”So, I must ask, you are not here to see Vasia? You are here to see me? For…no particular reason?”
“That’s right,” Elysia wasn’t looking at him anymore and instead had her eyes downwards at her lap, focused on sifting the fabric of her dress to make it more presentable. She liked for the ripples to lay in exactly the proper way so that she was framed in the best possible light. After all, she was a full believer in the notion that women were smart, capable, and also a decoration to any room they happened to be in. She was all three of these things and would be doing no one, not even herself a service, if she allowed her dress to be arranged awkwardly.
Her answer seemed to confuse the commander. He took on the most wonderful baffled expression and she could practically see his thoughts running across his face. Elysia did not help him along, either. Instead, she clasped her hands against one of her knees, waiting for him to be the one to break the silence, and in time, he did. ”I apologize, I just do not understand. Let me attempt to reiterate: you are here to make…’small-talk’? With me?”
“Of course,” she said soothingly. “We do not know each other as we ought. I came to fix that. Surely you, as a great commander of men, will understand the importance of making yourself known to one and all of the important people in Athenia. My husband is the Master Informer, my lord, and I would be remiss in my duties to my husband if I did not represent him to you, when he cannot come himself.” Could not...would not...either way it happened to work out.
“Besides, I find reports of you to be most intriguing and I came to see for myself if you be the measure of the man that you are touted to be.”
Mateos couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the lady’s implications. “Oh?” was all he managed, although the deeper connotation was certainly there. Rumors? He loosely clasped his hands in front of his ribcage in an attempt to change the subject. “Please excuse me, I’ll go fetch the wine.”[/b] With a slight bow, he pivoted on his heel and stepped out into the hall, making his way towards the kitchen in silence. She’s heard about me, but from who? And about what? Of course his name was well-known, considering both his familial and his own military prowess. Ordinarily, he would assume she had caught wind of his accomplishments in battle; acquaintances and even those more familiar with him would bring them up as casual conversation starters. He had developed a reputation for being a stone-cold soldier, one that doesn’t observe the usual political and courtly gossip that most others are so fond of, and in most cases his reputation precedes him. He liked it that way, as he was hardly expected to partake in so many of the time-wasting, unproductive congregations that so many of his peers found themselves wrapped up in. He would rather spend that time training, a fact that was well-known. He reached the kitchen and stopped just inside the doorway, standing silently as the servants became aware of his presence and waited for instruction. ”A pitcher of wine, please. Two goblets.” Hardly a moment later and a staff member appeared in front of him, laden with a tray of red wine and chalices. ”I’ll deliver it myself, thank you.” Mateos took the tray from the servant and turned away back down the hall, stepping purposefully in order to avoid sloshing the drink or tipping over the glasses. He concentrated hard on the swirling red liquid, but he was unable to keep his thoughts from drifting back to Elysia. Ordinarily, yes, he would think she would just be inquiring about his character, perhaps his battles, but she herself was very much not ordinary. She shows up unexpectedly, brings me baked goods, and all for the purpose of a casual chat? I didn’t even know her name until a few minutes ago. If not for the wine, he would have shook his head. It was just odd. Yes, all females were odd, but this one was beyond puzzling. She was odd. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on what about her made him so especially uneasy, but his intuition was to tread carefully, and if all his years of battle had taught him one thing, it was to trust his gut. All women, in his experience, were like snakes, coiled and ready to strike with venom at any moment, but this one seemed beyond unpredictable. He was dealing with an Adder. Mateos rounded the corner, reentering the sitting room laden with the wine. He placed the tray down on the table, feeling his heartrate spike with every step he drew closer to his guest. He was not looking forward to resuming conversation. However, he kept the same somewhat cordial, probably more confused than anything else, expression on his face that he’d donned from the get-go, anxious to not look more anxious than he had when Elysia had first arrived. He carefully poured his guest a chalice and then one for himself, taking a long, slow sip from the glass before settling back into his original standing position just beyond the cushions. ”Now then, where were we?”
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Mateos couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the lady’s implications. “Oh?” was all he managed, although the deeper connotation was certainly there. Rumors? He loosely clasped his hands in front of his ribcage in an attempt to change the subject. “Please excuse me, I’ll go fetch the wine.”[/b] With a slight bow, he pivoted on his heel and stepped out into the hall, making his way towards the kitchen in silence. She’s heard about me, but from who? And about what? Of course his name was well-known, considering both his familial and his own military prowess. Ordinarily, he would assume she had caught wind of his accomplishments in battle; acquaintances and even those more familiar with him would bring them up as casual conversation starters. He had developed a reputation for being a stone-cold soldier, one that doesn’t observe the usual political and courtly gossip that most others are so fond of, and in most cases his reputation precedes him. He liked it that way, as he was hardly expected to partake in so many of the time-wasting, unproductive congregations that so many of his peers found themselves wrapped up in. He would rather spend that time training, a fact that was well-known. He reached the kitchen and stopped just inside the doorway, standing silently as the servants became aware of his presence and waited for instruction. ”A pitcher of wine, please. Two goblets.” Hardly a moment later and a staff member appeared in front of him, laden with a tray of red wine and chalices. ”I’ll deliver it myself, thank you.” Mateos took the tray from the servant and turned away back down the hall, stepping purposefully in order to avoid sloshing the drink or tipping over the glasses. He concentrated hard on the swirling red liquid, but he was unable to keep his thoughts from drifting back to Elysia. Ordinarily, yes, he would think she would just be inquiring about his character, perhaps his battles, but she herself was very much not ordinary. She shows up unexpectedly, brings me baked goods, and all for the purpose of a casual chat? I didn’t even know her name until a few minutes ago. If not for the wine, he would have shook his head. It was just odd. Yes, all females were odd, but this one was beyond puzzling. She was odd. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on what about her made him so especially uneasy, but his intuition was to tread carefully, and if all his years of battle had taught him one thing, it was to trust his gut. All women, in his experience, were like snakes, coiled and ready to strike with venom at any moment, but this one seemed beyond unpredictable. He was dealing with an Adder. Mateos rounded the corner, reentering the sitting room laden with the wine. He placed the tray down on the table, feeling his heartrate spike with every step he drew closer to his guest. He was not looking forward to resuming conversation. However, he kept the same somewhat cordial, probably more confused than anything else, expression on his face that he’d donned from the get-go, anxious to not look more anxious than he had when Elysia had first arrived. He carefully poured his guest a chalice and then one for himself, taking a long, slow sip from the glass before settling back into his original standing position just beyond the cushions. ”Now then, where were we?”
Mateos couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the lady’s implications. “Oh?” was all he managed, although the deeper connotation was certainly there. Rumors? He loosely clasped his hands in front of his ribcage in an attempt to change the subject. “Please excuse me, I’ll go fetch the wine.”[/b] With a slight bow, he pivoted on his heel and stepped out into the hall, making his way towards the kitchen in silence. She’s heard about me, but from who? And about what? Of course his name was well-known, considering both his familial and his own military prowess. Ordinarily, he would assume she had caught wind of his accomplishments in battle; acquaintances and even those more familiar with him would bring them up as casual conversation starters. He had developed a reputation for being a stone-cold soldier, one that doesn’t observe the usual political and courtly gossip that most others are so fond of, and in most cases his reputation precedes him. He liked it that way, as he was hardly expected to partake in so many of the time-wasting, unproductive congregations that so many of his peers found themselves wrapped up in. He would rather spend that time training, a fact that was well-known. He reached the kitchen and stopped just inside the doorway, standing silently as the servants became aware of his presence and waited for instruction. ”A pitcher of wine, please. Two goblets.” Hardly a moment later and a staff member appeared in front of him, laden with a tray of red wine and chalices. ”I’ll deliver it myself, thank you.” Mateos took the tray from the servant and turned away back down the hall, stepping purposefully in order to avoid sloshing the drink or tipping over the glasses. He concentrated hard on the swirling red liquid, but he was unable to keep his thoughts from drifting back to Elysia. Ordinarily, yes, he would think she would just be inquiring about his character, perhaps his battles, but she herself was very much not ordinary. She shows up unexpectedly, brings me baked goods, and all for the purpose of a casual chat? I didn’t even know her name until a few minutes ago. If not for the wine, he would have shook his head. It was just odd. Yes, all females were odd, but this one was beyond puzzling. She was odd. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on what about her made him so especially uneasy, but his intuition was to tread carefully, and if all his years of battle had taught him one thing, it was to trust his gut. All women, in his experience, were like snakes, coiled and ready to strike with venom at any moment, but this one seemed beyond unpredictable. He was dealing with an Adder. Mateos rounded the corner, reentering the sitting room laden with the wine. He placed the tray down on the table, feeling his heartrate spike with every step he drew closer to his guest. He was not looking forward to resuming conversation. However, he kept the same somewhat cordial, probably more confused than anything else, expression on his face that he’d donned from the get-go, anxious to not look more anxious than he had when Elysia had first arrived. He carefully poured his guest a chalice and then one for himself, taking a long, slow sip from the glass before settling back into his original standing position just beyond the cushions. ”Now then, where were we?”
She thought it humorous that the master of the house was going to get his own wine for his own guest, but said nothing about it. Waiting until Lord Mateos had completely left the room, Elysia was up again, wandering around and peering into little jars, rifling through the few books that lay in the room. Honestly, everything was so clean and austere that there wasn’t over much to find. Not that she was snooping, of course. That would be rude.
Elysia pondered Lord Mateos while she wandered the room. He was not at all warmer up close than he had been when he’d fallen straight into the cold Aegean sea, with a crowd of onlookers laughing at him. Emerging from the water with no trousers and only his inner dignity left intact, Elysia would have forgiven anyone a brusqueness of manner. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man displayed his posterior and wares to all of Athenia, and not by choice. And in front of the late king’s daughters, too. She smiled to herself at the memory. Really, she should have been kinder and just forgotten about it like everyone else but it was so over the top ridiculous that she couldn’t and she thought of it from time to time when she needed to cheer herself up. After all, whatever her problem was, it wasn’t being caught wet with her trousers down and the royals looking on.
With that mental image firmly in place, Elysia stopped to look at a painting. She tilted her head to the right, trying to make out what the animal in the portrait was supposed to be. Was it a lion? Or...an ugly dog? The body of the thing was so obscure and the face so non-specific that she couldn’t quite make out what it was. The background of the painting didn’t help, not giving any indication as to whether the animal in question was in Greece or Africa because it looked very much like it was on the water. Which made no sense for either beast.
All at once, she became aware of footsteps echoing in the hallway. Knowing it wouldn’t be a crime, but still knowing she couldn’t be caught ‘looking around’ a second time, Elysia practically flew from one side of the room to another. She landed on the kline in a flurry of lavender skirts and had just enough time to pat her hair into place and smile toward the doorway by the time Lord Mateos appeared. She glanced at the wine and glasses on a tray, the items clinking together as he walked with an impressively smooth gait toward her. From his exterior, there was no way to know that he was unhappy about her presence. Though, the same could possibly be said even if he was elated. She was pretty sure he didn’t give much away via facial expressions.
Elysia didn’t break the silence first. Instead, she kept up her demure posture and waited while he poured her a glass of wine, then took one for himself. Her fingers took the stem of the glass into her hands and she lifted the glass towards him first in a show of mild respect before sipping from it as he asked where their conversation had been.
“We were, I flatter myself, talking of nothing significant. It’s rude, I find, to burden one’s host with the entire point of a visit within the first few minutes. But, now that you’ve asked, I did wonder how you felt about the current political situation?” She tilted her head very slightly, appraising him. “It is a strange business, is it not? That Princess Emilia is rarely seen? Such a good thing Lord Stravos has her best interests at heart….” Her gaze cut to Lord Mateos, gauging whether or not he liked the gossip rumors that were the talk of the town. Where was Persephone? Why did Emilia not show herself? Why was Lord Stravos involved at all? Was that a good or bad thing?
As it would turn out, however, Lord Mateos was not a fount of information, nor was he a skilled conversationalist. She gathered, through his blunt bumblings, that he was loyal to Persephone's hold on the crown, and that his family was not likely to take Stravos rule well.
With that knowledge attained, she spent a few more minutes torturing him with her presence, but left after she grew bored, which was a relief for them both.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She thought it humorous that the master of the house was going to get his own wine for his own guest, but said nothing about it. Waiting until Lord Mateos had completely left the room, Elysia was up again, wandering around and peering into little jars, rifling through the few books that lay in the room. Honestly, everything was so clean and austere that there wasn’t over much to find. Not that she was snooping, of course. That would be rude.
Elysia pondered Lord Mateos while she wandered the room. He was not at all warmer up close than he had been when he’d fallen straight into the cold Aegean sea, with a crowd of onlookers laughing at him. Emerging from the water with no trousers and only his inner dignity left intact, Elysia would have forgiven anyone a brusqueness of manner. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man displayed his posterior and wares to all of Athenia, and not by choice. And in front of the late king’s daughters, too. She smiled to herself at the memory. Really, she should have been kinder and just forgotten about it like everyone else but it was so over the top ridiculous that she couldn’t and she thought of it from time to time when she needed to cheer herself up. After all, whatever her problem was, it wasn’t being caught wet with her trousers down and the royals looking on.
With that mental image firmly in place, Elysia stopped to look at a painting. She tilted her head to the right, trying to make out what the animal in the portrait was supposed to be. Was it a lion? Or...an ugly dog? The body of the thing was so obscure and the face so non-specific that she couldn’t quite make out what it was. The background of the painting didn’t help, not giving any indication as to whether the animal in question was in Greece or Africa because it looked very much like it was on the water. Which made no sense for either beast.
All at once, she became aware of footsteps echoing in the hallway. Knowing it wouldn’t be a crime, but still knowing she couldn’t be caught ‘looking around’ a second time, Elysia practically flew from one side of the room to another. She landed on the kline in a flurry of lavender skirts and had just enough time to pat her hair into place and smile toward the doorway by the time Lord Mateos appeared. She glanced at the wine and glasses on a tray, the items clinking together as he walked with an impressively smooth gait toward her. From his exterior, there was no way to know that he was unhappy about her presence. Though, the same could possibly be said even if he was elated. She was pretty sure he didn’t give much away via facial expressions.
Elysia didn’t break the silence first. Instead, she kept up her demure posture and waited while he poured her a glass of wine, then took one for himself. Her fingers took the stem of the glass into her hands and she lifted the glass towards him first in a show of mild respect before sipping from it as he asked where their conversation had been.
“We were, I flatter myself, talking of nothing significant. It’s rude, I find, to burden one’s host with the entire point of a visit within the first few minutes. But, now that you’ve asked, I did wonder how you felt about the current political situation?” She tilted her head very slightly, appraising him. “It is a strange business, is it not? That Princess Emilia is rarely seen? Such a good thing Lord Stravos has her best interests at heart….” Her gaze cut to Lord Mateos, gauging whether or not he liked the gossip rumors that were the talk of the town. Where was Persephone? Why did Emilia not show herself? Why was Lord Stravos involved at all? Was that a good or bad thing?
As it would turn out, however, Lord Mateos was not a fount of information, nor was he a skilled conversationalist. She gathered, through his blunt bumblings, that he was loyal to Persephone's hold on the crown, and that his family was not likely to take Stravos rule well.
With that knowledge attained, she spent a few more minutes torturing him with her presence, but left after she grew bored, which was a relief for them both.
She thought it humorous that the master of the house was going to get his own wine for his own guest, but said nothing about it. Waiting until Lord Mateos had completely left the room, Elysia was up again, wandering around and peering into little jars, rifling through the few books that lay in the room. Honestly, everything was so clean and austere that there wasn’t over much to find. Not that she was snooping, of course. That would be rude.
Elysia pondered Lord Mateos while she wandered the room. He was not at all warmer up close than he had been when he’d fallen straight into the cold Aegean sea, with a crowd of onlookers laughing at him. Emerging from the water with no trousers and only his inner dignity left intact, Elysia would have forgiven anyone a brusqueness of manner. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man displayed his posterior and wares to all of Athenia, and not by choice. And in front of the late king’s daughters, too. She smiled to herself at the memory. Really, she should have been kinder and just forgotten about it like everyone else but it was so over the top ridiculous that she couldn’t and she thought of it from time to time when she needed to cheer herself up. After all, whatever her problem was, it wasn’t being caught wet with her trousers down and the royals looking on.
With that mental image firmly in place, Elysia stopped to look at a painting. She tilted her head to the right, trying to make out what the animal in the portrait was supposed to be. Was it a lion? Or...an ugly dog? The body of the thing was so obscure and the face so non-specific that she couldn’t quite make out what it was. The background of the painting didn’t help, not giving any indication as to whether the animal in question was in Greece or Africa because it looked very much like it was on the water. Which made no sense for either beast.
All at once, she became aware of footsteps echoing in the hallway. Knowing it wouldn’t be a crime, but still knowing she couldn’t be caught ‘looking around’ a second time, Elysia practically flew from one side of the room to another. She landed on the kline in a flurry of lavender skirts and had just enough time to pat her hair into place and smile toward the doorway by the time Lord Mateos appeared. She glanced at the wine and glasses on a tray, the items clinking together as he walked with an impressively smooth gait toward her. From his exterior, there was no way to know that he was unhappy about her presence. Though, the same could possibly be said even if he was elated. She was pretty sure he didn’t give much away via facial expressions.
Elysia didn’t break the silence first. Instead, she kept up her demure posture and waited while he poured her a glass of wine, then took one for himself. Her fingers took the stem of the glass into her hands and she lifted the glass towards him first in a show of mild respect before sipping from it as he asked where their conversation had been.
“We were, I flatter myself, talking of nothing significant. It’s rude, I find, to burden one’s host with the entire point of a visit within the first few minutes. But, now that you’ve asked, I did wonder how you felt about the current political situation?” She tilted her head very slightly, appraising him. “It is a strange business, is it not? That Princess Emilia is rarely seen? Such a good thing Lord Stravos has her best interests at heart….” Her gaze cut to Lord Mateos, gauging whether or not he liked the gossip rumors that were the talk of the town. Where was Persephone? Why did Emilia not show herself? Why was Lord Stravos involved at all? Was that a good or bad thing?
As it would turn out, however, Lord Mateos was not a fount of information, nor was he a skilled conversationalist. She gathered, through his blunt bumblings, that he was loyal to Persephone's hold on the crown, and that his family was not likely to take Stravos rule well.
With that knowledge attained, she spent a few more minutes torturing him with her presence, but left after she grew bored, which was a relief for them both.