Title: Lapitia and Thialle: Marital Bliss? (Part II)
Date: 2008-11-05 05:17:09
Type: Logs
Synopsis: Thialle claims to be starving after his sojourn in the dungeons and so Lapitia gets a tray of food prepared for him and, accompanied by her bodyguard, takes it to him in the locked, private wing of the Fale mansion.
You lock the door with a key of faceted amethyst glass. - *click*
You say, in sirihish:
"This way, Chaiten."
A Small Purple Tiled Bathing Chamber [N]
Small pieces of purple tile, spotted with green, have been laid together
to cover the floor and walls of this room. A tiny windowed alcove has been
set into the west wall, allowing a small stream of light to filter in. A
circular-shaped bathing tub has been set in the room`s center, standing
about two cords high, with a jozhal-mouthed faucet hanging into the tub.
The room slopes downward a bit where it meets up with the tub, and a small
hole is beneath the tub, acting as a drain for water to run down into it.
A couple of racks filled with soaps, perfumes and towels have been hung
on the walls, and a smaller door stands on the north wall, leading out into
a hallway.
A green stone incense burner has been set here.
An unlit candle, striped in vivid purple and green, is here.
The shapely, brunette young woman is here, drying down the floor.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man is sitting on a circular-shaped green stone bathing tub.
Standing well back at the doorway, you look down at the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man.
Unfolding his leg as he sits upon the edge of a newly filled bathtub, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man looks up at you.
A slender, purple and green clad servant slips near the open door from the outside for a moment, putting something down, before making a rapid departure.
Her lips pressing upward into a semblance of a smile, voice rich and throaty, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Well. You do look... well."
Motionless atop his perch, equipped with an expressionless visage, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Mm, so good of you to notice, my Lady."
Flicking a finger toward the shapely, brunette young woman, you say to the green-haired, green tattooed man, in sirihish:
"Give the slave the tray I personally had prepared."
The green-haired, green tattooed man dips a slow nod to you, keeping himself alertly positioned between you and the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man as he holds out his large tray.
The green-haired, green tattooed man gives his large tray to the shapely, brunette young woman.
Affecting innocent posture with a short shrug, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Well, one never can be too certain, can they? Uhatu - test my food for poison."
The shapely, brunette young woman compliantly slices apart a portion of food from the plate at random and consumes slowly.
The shapely, brunette young woman eats a portion of her grilled, spicy carru steak.
A genuine sound of amusement bubbles up from the plump, prismatic-haired woman`s magenta lips.
Bowing low as she proffers the food, the shapely, brunette young woman gives her large tray to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man.
Draping an arm over the nearby towel rack, leaning back against the doorframe, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Now why would I bother having you poisoned if you are to be executed, anyway?"
Countenance as bleak as granite, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man promptly delves into the meal seated in his lap.
Through mouthfuls of hurriedly downed food, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I said most likely - and I wasn`t accusing you of anything, my Lady."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man eats his small portion of a plate of tender ribs smothered in honey and kalan sauce.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man eats a portion of his ball of soft white cheese.
With a throaty chuckle as she watches him eat, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"You certainly do seem to have a healthy appetite."
Her lips quirking upward, a trace of laughter dotting her words, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Though, I must say, you do look quite a bit ... healthier than the last time I saw you."
Ravenously lapping his fingers clean, not bothering to make eye contact, absorbed in his meal, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Try enduring a week in an unlit cell."
Icily landing his gaze up at you, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks you, in sirihish:
"My, you suddenly seem rather unafraid of me being .. whatever it is I`m accused of being. Why the sudden change of heart, my Lady?"
Still leaning against the doorframe in an elaborately casual pose, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"So, have they said for what crime you are to be executed?"
Swiftly rising from his perch, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I`ve had enough of this talk."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man stands up from a circular-shaped green stone bathing tub.
Edgy, a short, tow-headed boy creeps into the room, then rushes towards a spiral-carved green stone incense burner with a small smoking lump.
The plump, prismatic-haired woman quickly untangles her arm from a hanging accessories rack and stands erect.
A puff of smoke issues forth from a spiral-carved green stone incense burner.
Racing, the small, tow-headed Fale boy races out into the hall, shrieking.
The plump, prismatic-haired woman makes an unobtrusive signal with two fingers toward the green-haired, green tattooed man.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man observes the doorway in which you stand, gauging the remaining space left.
The green-haired, green tattooed man draws a half-step nearer to you.
Eyebrows upraised, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Whatever are you staring at?"
The plump, prismatic-haired woman casts a glance over her shoulder toward the hallway.
Left hand held aloft, cradling his large tray, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I`m wondering if you`re going to let me pass, or if you`ve more insults to assail me with."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Because if you`re quite finished, I think I`ll go seek more congenial company."
A puff of smoke issues forth from a spiral-carved green stone incense burner.
Tossing her head back to let a tinkling laugh spill forth, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"You are free to pass. Please do."
Clicking fingers, you say to the green-haired, green tattooed man, in sirihish:
"Come, Thialle is daunted by our presence."
Small Hallway [NESW]
This narrow hallway stretches to the north and south, its floor and
walls constructed of sturdy agafari wood. The solid wood has been polished
to a lustrous glow. A purple glass lamp hangs from the western wall beside
a doorframe which shows signs of having been repaired. The floor seems to
have been polished, although a few scuff marks are evident, along with a
long skid that goes all the way up and down the hall. South of here, a
simple bathing chamber can be seen, and northward is a flight of stairs.
Lain side by side near the southern door are curly-toed embroidered slippers.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"~condescendingly~ Predictable."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man has arrived from the south.
The shapely, brunette young woman has arrived from the south.
Stabbing a finger in the air towards curly-toed embroidered slippers, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"Uhatu, are those mine?"
Bobbing a rapid nod, staring vacantly at the slippers, the shapely, brunette young woman says, in sirihish:
"Yes, master, if you wish them."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"Fine, whatever. It isn`t as though I own anything anymore anyway. Having been robbed by a band of homonculi."
Wafting his naked hand through the air, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"Bring them to me."
Returning to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, the shapely, brunette young woman kneels and brings up a slipper, cupped in her hand.
Laughter spraying out, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"A band of what? What a lovely command of words you have. I have always admired that in you."
With a slight huff, the shapely, brunette young woman says, in sirihish:
"An advantage of education."
The shapely, brunette young woman looks up at the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man`s face, eyes wide and hopeful.
Blinking dully at you, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"At least you`ve steered away from being predictable, my Lady."
Though her brow crinkles, the plump, prismatic-haired woman`s expression remains unperturbed, a flicker of amusement in her slate-grey eyes.
Blinking with exaggerated surprise, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Oh? How so?"
Contriving a fragile smile aimed upon her, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"Quite right, my belonging, my pet."
The shapely, brunette young woman lets a smile of warmth cross her vacant face.
Lazing his shoulders in ascent, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Because I didn`t expect you to say something like that, naturally. Certainly not at this moment."
Lifting one shoulder with a silky slither, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"I have never been daunted about commenting on that which I admire."
Grasping the proffered slippers with one hand yet observing you, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Nevertheless, I didn`t see that one coming."
The shapely, brunette young woman twitches suddenly then shakes her head.
The shapely, brunette young woman gives her curly-toed embroidered slippers to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man.
The plump, prismatic-haired woman`s eyes narrow as she focusses on the shapely, brunette young woman briefly.
You think:
"She behaves as if in some sort of thrall."
Twisting the pair round in his hand ponderously, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"My, these are better laundered than the ones I have on."
Stepping out of them and expecting the shapely, brunette young woman to retrieve them, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man stops using his pair of black silk slippers.
Securing each on, one at a time with a wriggle of naked toes, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man slips his feet into his curly-toed embroidered slippers.
The shapely, brunette young woman remains on one knee, head bowed before the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man.
Bleakly, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Homonculus, the word was homonculus."
Rolling a chubby, manicured finger toward him, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Oh, Thialle! Did you ... had you made any headway with contacting one of the Great Lords?"
The shapely, brunette young woman twitches suddenly then shakes her head.
The shapely, brunette young woman shakes slightly, smacking at the back of her neck before then pulling an ivory comb out of her belt.
The plump, prismatic-haired woman shoots the shapely, brunette young woman another quick, discreet glance.
Distractedly averting his gaze from where it had been, fixed on your hips, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks you, in sirihish:
"Hmm? To what end?"
The shapely, brunette young woman moves around behind the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, and begins to gently comb at the gnarled, damp silvery locks.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man inches his head to better accomodate the shapely, brunette young woman`s maneuvering of an ivory comb.
Beginning to sing ever-so-lightly, the shapely, brunette young woman continues to work the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man`s hair with tender, gentle strokes, working out the snarls.
Pressing her lips forward, an exasperated hiss of breath sounding, before quickly repressed, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Why about the emerald, of course."
The shapely, brunette young woman shakes her foot suddenly.
Cocking his head sideways suggestively, streams of hair drawn through the teeth of her comb, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"In a manner of speaking, I did."
The shapely, brunette young woman stomps briefly downward, her sound muffled by the carpeting as she continues to work the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man`s hair.
Spoken over his right shoulder, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"You`re still.. itchy, aren`t you?"
Looking frightened, the shapely, brunette young woman exclaims, in sirihish:
"It`s not my fault! It`s this terrible place, master!"
Turning further to address her in coaxing, sweet tones, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"I know, my pet. I know. I had terrible itches -- no, downright painful ones, right before I was incarcerated."
Chuckling quietly, her accustomed smile plumping at her cheeks, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"And please do tell me of the manner? And do summon forth some deliciously eloquent words to describe its manner."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"Middle Nobles were never very good at quarantining out pests and vermin from their estates."
Slapping one thigh agitatedly with her hand, her smile growing taut, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Thialle, the manner of speaking?"
As she continues to groom the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, the shapely, brunette young woman says, in sirihish:
"The Senior Lady once said to me that Fale is wonderful because Fale lets all the proper born and loyal houses know precisely how to not act, master."
Returning his focus of coal-dark orbs upon you, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks you, in sirihish:
"Oh, the emerald was it?"
With a backwards swat of his hand behind him, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"Hush, Uhatu."
The shapely, brunette young woman melodramatically ducks the back-swatted hand, and continues to groom at the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man`s hair, resuming her humming.
Tittering softly, her gaze shooting past him to the shapely, brunette young woman, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Do you spend time tutoring her in things to pop out with at odd moments? Some sort of signal you give to let her know which statement? How very clever of you."
Shrugging as he towers before her, undergoing her grooming, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Sometimes I do indeed puppeteer her every reply to enhance my own words. As fate would have it, she`s acting of her own accord right now."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to the shapely, brunette young woman, in sirihish:
"Uhatu, find Lapitia`s mind."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The shapely, brunette young woman nods towards the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man.
Frowning at him, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"What is your game?"
Canting his head leftward with an expansive spill of hair, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"Oh come, it isn`t as though I pretend to know yours, Lapitia."
The shapely, brunette young woman peeks briefly out from behind the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, continuing to groom.
Strolling over to the staircase, placing a hand on the large knob at the end of the balustrade, you ask the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"Well, I suppose it matters not what -your- game is, does it? Since I seem to hold all the cards, as it were?"
The shapely, brunette young woman sends you a telepathic message:
"*a mental projection of pure animalistic lust and a satisfaction of being. A sensation of being bent forward and used carnally by the silver-haired man standing in front of her*"
Twin moles elevating as he shifts his eyebrows queryingly, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks you, in sirihish:
"You do?"
Her nose crinkling delicately, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"How disgusting."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man asks you, in sirihish:
"How is that question disgusting?"
Eagerly downing as much as his mouth can accomodate in one gulp, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man drinks water from his purple-tinted goblet.
Flicking her hand up from the balustrade, turning on a booted heel, you say to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man, in sirihish:
"You have gone too far."
Clicking fingers to one side, the plump, prismatic-haired woman strides down the hallway.
Wetting his lips clean, the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man says to you, in sirihish:
"I don`t understand."
[Lapitia leaves Thialle in the hallway and goes for the main part of the mansion.]
You hear a man`s voice shout from the south in sirihish:
"Lapitia, wait!"
You search through an etched, amethyst key-ring, looking for the key.
You unlock the door with a key of faceted amethyst glass. - *click*
You lock the door with a key of faceted amethyst glass. - *click*
****
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Lord Templar Samos was suspiciously curious at why you might be interested. I had ensured him it was only due to its colour."
Snapping out her words through clenched lips, you say to the green-haired, green tattooed man, in sirihish:
"Instruct all the Warwhatsits, indeed, all the staff to be wary when they open any of the doors into the private wing."
You contact the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man:
"I had not known that Lord Samos had been elevated to the position of Great Lord. I really must send him my congratulations, along with a nice gift."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You build a psychic barrier around your mind.
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You think:
"How truly disgusting an image that was."
You think:
"I feel quite ill now."
[She gets some food to settle her stomach and takes it out to the garden.]
****
Your psychic barrier is crushed!
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"You didn`t think I actually knew any Reds personally? Of course I inquired through him."
You contact the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man with the Way.
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"You are so versed in satisfying me one moment, then turning me despondant and crestfallen the next, Lapitia."
You send a telepathic message to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man:
"Ceylara was personally acquainted with many."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Well as fate would have it, my name is not Ceylara."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Thank Tektolnes!"
You send a telepathic message to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man:
"Please do have your nasty little toy withdraw her mind from mine."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You send a telepathic message to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man:
"I am still nauseated by the lingering image."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"She really is acting of her own accord, my Lady Wife. Would you like me to have her punished?"
You send a telepathic message to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man:
"Yes."
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Fine. Now, might I inveigle you to an uninterupted conversation?"
The plump, prismatic-haired woman takes up a wooden spoon from the plate on her lap and then attacks your stuffed ginka fruit.
Jabbing up an overflowing spoonful, you eat part of your stuffed ginka fruit.
You send a telepathic message to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man:
"To what end, Thialle?"
The chiseled, mercurial-tressed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Lapitia, honestly."
You send a telepathic message to the chiseled, mercurial-tressed man:
"I shall be very busy for the next while giving instructions for the lovely, intimate meal with Lord Samos that has been postponed too many times now."
You dissolve the psychic link.
You build a psychic barrier around your mind.