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Post by Zugunruhes on Jun 29, 2020 18:59:26 GMT -6
Harlan's New Groove
(the title is Kaj's fault) Winter 1702; Evening; Within House Ophiaz' Estate
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Post by Zugunruhes on Jun 29, 2020 19:20:10 GMT -6
▸Harlan◂
WC 299 | Post One
Eminent parties were often a dull affair - nobility gathered around as gossip wound between them, spilling rumors between its forked tongue. More precarious secrets were traded delicately, though often not in the company of those with the means to weaponize them. Harlan never bothered to listen in, nor care. The histories of the ancient houses and their heirs stretched on and to him not a single Aodhian he had met before deserved the titles and comforts they inherited. Their homes intrigued him, but only from a thieves' perspective. Valuables worth a lifetime share of crystals shards were often dismissed as mere trinkets and tucked away in glass cases, while century old heirlooms decorated the walls.
House Ophiaz bore the signs of a family desperate to win their place among the rest of the nobility. Treasures, with decor too shiny to have faded over centuries, covered every spot of the walls to the point that the stone beneath was hardly visible. The manor reeked with extravagance, unpleasantly, and Harlan wondered with a careless thought what fortune the family must have gone through to decorate their home in this way. The mare beside him regarded him fleetingly, but he felt his gaze upon her and turned his attention away from the walls dripping in gold. He could practically hear her voice- Harlan, are you guarding those jewels or me?
She returned to her conversation with- Harlan did not remember the Ophiaz heir's name- and Harlan let his gaze wander once more. A younger Ophiaz was enjoying the banquet table and flanked by two brooding pit-fighters. One was watching their charge, but the other, his eyes were also wandering and from afar it looked as though the unicorn was considering something. Harlan yawned loudly, ignoring the offended expression from a passing horse.
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Post by kajeayn on Dec 23, 2020 7:30:54 GMT -6
R O S A L B A
post 1 | wc 514
She had seen more parties and gatherings than anyone should have been able to survive, really.
She had them down to an art form. She knew the patterns and rhythms, where to position herself in a room, exactly what expressions to make along to conversation, knew what nuggets of gossip and information to slip between her words, how to dance between pleasantries and find the real meaning behind them.
There were painfully few big fish here at this party. It was yet another attempt by Ophiaz to rub shoulders with those above them, herself included, and she bore it all with the most patience she could muster.
Part of being the Head of a Greater House meant enduring a fair bit of sucking up to. Fairly often, she relished it. Knowing the amount of energy and money spent just for a bit of her attention or approval pleased her to no end, and sometimes she found herself actually impressed. It was rare, though. Most occasions were like this, watching nobles display like courting pigeons, and her the bored recipient watching from behind her jeweled goblet and waiting for them to tire themselves out.
It wasn’t very entertaining today, but she wasn’t above indulging in luxuries that did not come from her own coffers or stores. She knew leaving early would cause a rift between their families, not to mention the insult others would perceive from Head Cardea walking out of a party before a reasonable time to leave.
It would be a much bigger headache to go home, so she drank free wine and subtly tried to pick out anything of interest in the endless line of conversations she was subjected to.
She gave Harlan a brief, pointed glance.
Harlan’s jaw cracking yawn from beside her made her mouth twitch, amused despite the flash of annoyance of him potentially offending someone and her having to smooth that over. She couldn’t quite muster up the energy to be too annoyed, though. She was bored, too.
And Harlan was doing his job. He was a little distracting, in a way that lowered guards. Harlan being completely at ease to the point of being bored out of his mind had an effect on people. It was a little easier to relax when a slave kept for protection seemed to find nothing to worry about.
And relaxed equines made for looser tongues.
Across the room, someone made a discrete gesture Rosalba recognized immediately as being one signaling a Problem. The Ophiaz noble excused themselves politely, Rosalbla inclining her head to them as she watched them hurry away. Probably an issue with the wine. It was always the damn wine. If this party ran out of wine, she would find some reason to go home.
She let her eyes slide over to Harlan, effectively alone with him for the moment. Until someone noticed she was alone and tripped over themselves for the chance to converse with the Cardea Head.
“I apologize if this gathering isn’t up to your standards, Harlan.” She commented dryly, swirling the wine in her goblet.
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Post by Zugunruhes on Jan 15, 2021 11:39:47 GMT -6
During most noble parties Harlan found means to amuse himself. It had become a game of sorts, especially when Sirocco was around or the duo were guarding Sereya. Harlan would point out a brooch dripping from the neck of some eminent, its many jewels like the spots on a peacock's tail. Then Harlan and Sirocco would debate its worth and conjure up a fantastical means of stealing it. But when he was at Rosalba's side he kept those sorts of thoughts to himself, even though a wistful shadow always crept into the look that wandered over a mansion's walls.
He did have keen eyes, and not just for treasured artifacts. He read subtle changes in a person's voice, noticed downwards shift in weight when someone was backing down, and followed meaningful glances. While he would never be a master of Aodhian politics, and did not envy those that navigated the sharks and hidden rocks, he too could understand people. Not much difference between an eminent and a thief. Eminents just got the bigger share. His mouth tugged upwards in an easy smile at the stray thought, then went slack when Rosalba talked to him. His momentary distraction had been poorly concealed, but he caught on quickly.
"Ophiaz wears their gilded hearts on their sleeves. It's not as interesting when there's nothing concealed, Master." The comment was a touch impertinent, but he thought Rosalba might enjoy the humor in it with the nearest Ophiaz members out of earshot. They were all draped in gold apparel, many sporting variations of the twin snake sigil, and when they stood still a few could almost blend in to the parts of the manor walls hidden under their collections.
As he spoke he watched the unicorn pit-fighter slip away, disappearing through a door while his young charge was distracted by whatever the Ophiaz heir was fussing over. Abruptly, the young Ophiaz noticed. He glanced around, eyes wide, looking into the crowd. "That one seems to have lost his Pit Fighter."
Image by Kruuja
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