Down to the Bottom [Memory]

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Late Night, 17 Loshis 2718
The Leroux Townhouse, Uptown, Vienda

Palis had gone rather red about the face and ears, Niccolette noticed idly. His hair had gotten rather mussed as well, but she thought that for the best; the tousling at least made him look rakish, offsetting somewhat the youthfulness of his face.

His tone, at least, was excellent. Niccolette swallowed her pleased smile. Palis glanced over at her, his expression as flat as his voice. Niccolette let herself smile then, and glanced back at Aurelien, raising her eyebrows lightly.

“Of course,” Niccolette shrugged. “If you do not know, then I suppose it does not interest you,” she glanced back at Palis, and smirked again, very faintly. “Good evening, Incumbent,” Niccolette smiled at Donaldson. “Mr. Donaldson,” she bowed, delicately at the waist, and took an easy step back, turning away.

Niccolette turned away, then, although she took her time. She knew; Aurelien knew; likely even Palis and Donaldson knew. There was, nevertheless, a moment a friction in the air, tension, stretched taut between the four of them. Niccolette’s ramscott was crisp and indectal, of course, but she felt the faintest strain in those around her, Aurelien’s especially, and she knew him by it.

“Wait,” Aurelien cleared his throat. “In fact, there was – I had some – you should not be wandering practically unescorted,” he said, glancing at Palis with a pursing of his lips. “Let me accompany you to find Mr. Ibutatu.”

Niccolette glanced back over her shoulder. Her smile was broad, and just a little wicked, and it let him get away with nothing. “How thoughtful of you,” she said, easily.

“Evening, Donnie,” Aurelien murmured; they clasped hands, and exchanged a few more words.

Niccolette did not wait, but slid back through the crowded, smoke-filled room, Palis trailing behind her. Aurelien caught them at the door, his hand beating hers to the handle. He looked at her, flat-eyed, and shot an angry glance at Palis, then opened it with the faintest possible bow.

Niccolette smiled, and stepped through.

“In here,” Aurelien said, coldly. He choose a nearby door and pushed it open; the room beyond was nearly empty, just two men talking on a small cluster of nearby couches. They were dead to the world, but for one another, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Niccolette smiled, faintly, and looked away as they leaned in closer. Aurelien’s face was sour, but he did not shoo them out, instead leading Niccolette and Palis towards the far side.

“Well?” Aurelien said, sharply.

Niccolette raised her eyebrows. “I do not think we shall find Uzoji here.” She said, smiling.

“Don’t play the fool,” Aurelien said, low. “It doesn’t suit you. If you or this – this – young man has something to say, then say it.”

Niccolette shrugged. “Very well,” she said, coolly. “Francoise is feeling quite ill. She has taken your carriage and gone home.”

Aurelien was silent, looking at her; a muscle jumped in his jaw. “And?” He said, after a moment.

“And?” Niccolette asked lightly, raising her eyebrows again. “And what?”

“What,” Aurelien gritted his teeth; he spluttered, faintly, glancing from Palis to Niccolette and back again. “What else – good fucking lady, Niccolette! Just tell me.”

“For now, that is it,” Niccolette shrugged lightly. A sharp snap of furious red went through Aurelien’s field. Niccolette grinned, and pulsed hers, swamping him with bright, sharp living energy; she flexed her field out to its fullest, out from the polite dampening she had held much of the night, and it was brilliant and sharp in the air.

“You have a wonderful wife,” Niccolette said, coldly, bearing down on him still with a deep caprise. The redshift had faded; something yellow and fearful flickered through Aurelien’s field, before he brought it under control. “Do not think to take her for granted. Next time I may yet have more to say.” Her eyes flickered over him. “You are still the only one she wants, Aurelien,” she said, shrugging, and released the flex. “Do not be such a fool.”

[Palis Ainu]

17 Loshis, 2718

Palis followed Niccolette as she turned to leave, giving Aurelien one last elevating scan followed by a smirk and the slightest of head shakes as he looked the man in the face. Still, the moment he turned away and his nerves began to settle their static, he could feel his hair sticking up in a way beyond fixing into the usual flattened and combed style. As Aurelien called after the two of them, he was sure he could not turn back with the same coolness he had drawn into himself before- instead, he chose to idly look and turn his head to Niccolette beside him as she spoke in sticky tones and, against all bred instinct in him, run a hand through his hair to at least make the messiness somewhat uniform.

He was absolutely astounded by the woman’s ease in the situation, and, lightly, he adored her. She was clever, quick, and no-nonsense, words that Palis’ personality could not claim. Yet, being beside her and the vibrancy of her living field, he caught himself freefalling nto the situation, especially as his mind decided that Aurelien Rochambeaux was, in fact, an antagonist of the night.

He barely kept himself from whispering excitedly to Niccolette as they walked away like the school boy he was, instead attempting to match the cape of words and characterizations she had drawn around him. He wondered, now, about this cape. Francoise and Aurelien’s relationship must have been strained, perhaps Aurelien was seeing other women or spending his time away too often, as was a regular case between incumbents and their young wives. He only hoped Fenella would not fall into the same pit with Incumbent Leroux- the dreaming Fenella he had known in school, at least, would be absolutely broken by it.

As Aurelien opened the door for them- a funny picture of an incumbent’s manners, Palis thought, as the man glared at him- Palis slinked through unbothered and floated behind Niccolette and Aurelien into the next room. He lingered closer to the door than his companions, arms crossed and brow raised at Aurelien as Niccolette spoke.

Palis asked his field to relax around him, and it obliged and hummed around the edges of Aurelien’s, red, hot, and self-conscious, like a street cat wrapping itself around a man’s legs. Yet, as Aurelien cursed, Palis’ field stiffened and caught the ripples of energy that moved from the man’s, as if a splash had happened in the sea of fields. He frowned only momentarily, almost butting in to scold the man, but, not wanting to ruin the moment, he relaxed and faded back into Niccolette’s control of the situation.

As she finished coldly, Palis turned from her to hold the man’s gaze as he turned his body towards the door. He did not touch Niccolette, instead miming a light push towards the door.“Farewell, Mr. Rochambeaux,” he managed before stepping towards the hallway. He had much he wanted to say, but, no, he was too scared, too unaware of the situation to dare say it until they were out of the man’s earshot. Instead, as they left Aurelien there to find some semblance of composure, Palis waited and plotted until they had turned back into the main hallway, stairs in sight, then stopped abruptly.

“A moment, Niccolette,” he explained, his mind beginning its dance with the mona. “There is something I meant to bring to the mind of that man.” It was just a school yard trick, Palis knew, as he stepped back from Niccolette to peer back around the corner and ensure the man hadn’t absconded into the hallway. He first decided what he wanted to suggest- only the shame the man should feel for speaking to Niccolette in such a way and for whatever strife he had caused between he and his wife. He started a familiar, whispered conversation, first describing the man for the mona to find, then, quietly, the suggestion he wished to put on his mind.

Palis’ Suggestion Spell

SidekickBOT Today at 15:00
@Quix: 1d6 = (3) = 3
Partial success

Palis felt the mona agree and leave him, and, in moments, he knew it had met its mark by the splitting headache that, for a just a few seconds, pushed against his eyes and sent them into a rolling night sky of gravity that pushed down on him as if he had stood up incredibly suddenly. He leaned to his left, where he knew the wall had been, blinking blindly with a grimace down at where the floor had shattered into bits of white lightning. With each flutter of eyelids, the lightning began to dissipate into stains, and he could see the wine carpet and stand straight again, though his head still pounded. He brought a hand over his eyes like a visor and smiled weakly, his head pulsing as the headache began to fade. It was a common side-effect to perceptive magic, especially after a long absence, Palis knew, but it was still painfully annoying.

“Maybe I have fallen a bit out of practice,” he muttered, shielding his eyes from the sconces that now burned angrily against the front of his head. “But he should be thinking over his actions for a few hours, rather than be a prick.”

“Excuse my language, of course, ma’am,” he excused himself barely, a wave of the hand accompanying his words. “I suppose- it is late- should we find your husband? Or should I make sure Mrs. Rochambeaux has been delivered to her carriage?” He began to drag his feet in the direction of the stairs, the same direction Uzoji and his brother had echoed down when they first ascended the stairs. More men mingled outside of the sitting rooms, now, tiredly tripping down the stairs towards their carriages with plenty of time to stop and talk to everyone they passed.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Late Night, 17 Loshis 2718
The Leroux Townhouse, Uptown, Vienda

Niccolette took Palis’s cue without the slightest hesitation. She turned away from Aurelien and left him behind without lingering further; her field swept out of his, ending the caprise with finality before they were out of range. Her skirt swept around as well, the sapphire fabric and embroidery on the dress’s bodice both gleaming in the light.

The last glimpse Niccolette had of Aurelien was him standing in a shaft of light from the window, a frown set deep on his face, gold eyes dark in the shadow of his brow. She didn’t bother to look back, and went through the door as Palis held it. Francoise would be happier in her marriage than in a series of dispassionate affairs; frankly, Niccolette doubted she had even really enjoyed them. For all her friend’s broken-hearted sobbing, Niccolette was frankly skeptical she had done much more than flirt with Clarence Brattleborn.

Niccolette waited in the hallway, watching the distant phosphor light stream through the windows, making cross-hatched shadows on the floor. She listened half-heartedly to Palis’s spell, feeling the etheric flex of his field – stronger, Niccolette thought, with a faint smile, than she’d have expected.

She was not a perceptivist, but there was enough crossover between the living and perceptive conversations that she could understand the gist of the spell. Palis leaned over, his face tightening into a grimace; Niccolette watched him. She would not have cast in such a situation but then, she thought, dispassionately, he was rather young.

“Mrs. Rochambeaux’s maid is very good,” Niccolette said with a delicate little shrug of her shoulders. “I shall collect my husband, I think,” a little smile played over her lips. “Unless he and his brother remain still busy.” Niccolette said, lightly.

Some helpful person – human or otherwise – had rearranged the stairs so that all the former impediments were back in place. Niccolette, standing at the top of them, glanced around. She shifted out of the man for a man stumbling in a suit, who bowed deeply with his hand on the railing and managed a surprised “Madam.”

Niccolette did not, really, let Palis lead the way, although he accompanied her. She followed her husband’s earlier tracks down the hall where he and Enofe had gone; there was still an open half-glass door at the edge of it which looked as if it led to a balcony, and a sliver of moonlight lighting the way outside, though the glass was tinted dark enough that it was hard to see through, at this hour.

Niccolette held up a slim hand; she glanced back at Palis, raising her eyebrows, and didn’t let him approach. She held there at the doorway, tilting her head and listening.

Palis would hear the edge of voices, both low, Mugrobi-accented, though it would be a moment before he would realize they were, in fact, speaking Mugrobi, and not Estuan. Niccolette listened, smiling, and then shook her head and came back away as a quiet clink came from outside. She shooed Palis on before her.

Niccolette didn’t speak until they had gone some distance from the balcony. “Quite busy,” the Bastian shrugged. “We shall go downstairs,” she glanced at it; there was a break in the traffic, at least. She turned back to Palis, and raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to clear the way.