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The LeClairs host a party at their estate outside of Vienda.

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Aurelien LeClair
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Sun Jun 24, 2018 1:37 am

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Hamis 30, 2718
Evening at the LeClair Estate

Evening had befallen Vienda. Night brought cool temperatures with it and heavy clouds that clung to the air just waiting for a moment to lessen their load and drench the ground below in waves of rushing rain water. There was no telling when the thunder that clapped after the lightning streak would break the dam of the tightly bound clouds. Aurélien was not concerned about the rain. However, he was concerned about what his present company would think of his career so far.

The LeClairs were hosting yet another party at the behest of Aurélien’s mother, Morgane LeClair. The crème de la crème of the galdori had been invited to the LeClair estate just outside of Vienda’s city limits but not quite in the territory of the many plantations that resided on the countryside. The estate was a large manor filled with speciality rooms. The great hall was the main attraction that night and it was where the galdori gathered to mingle with one another under the warm lights of chandeliers hanging far above. Aurélien saw the room as a place where he practiced etiquette under his passive nanny Sara. Here in the great hall, he was taught how to mingle and intwine himself in the ways of his contemporaries.

Sara had taught him well, for he navigated the various conversations of that night with ease and fluidity. His mother swore he was more like his father than he was like her, but Aurélien disagreed. Even now as he stood with a glass of wine in his hand, surrounded on all sides by those interested in his career, his mother commanded the presence of twice his company and spoke to each one with a sense of personability that made her a joy to be around. Aurélien hadn’t said it aloud before, but he admired his mother and the way she navigated the social rungs of the galdori ladder. She was a fashion designer, not a politician, but one wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Aurélien turned his attention back to one of his company, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his free hand under to show he was interested, not standoffish. As practiced, he nodded along with the person’s words and furrowed his brows in places necessary to show that he was truly interested. He was, to a point, but his mind was bumbling at a mile a minute with thoughts segregated to every aspect of the party. This was one of the first get togethers called that he would be a key player in maintaining the interest of his father’s career.

Aurélien’s father, Gauvain LeClair, was a well known judge in the Courts and was looking to secure a position in the King and Queen’s Congress. Aurélien’s job was to ensure that good words were exchanged between him and select targets that would serve to promote his father’s name. The pressure was on, and he was simply waiting for the right chance to isolate one of the chosen targets that now hovered in the peripherals of his vision: another highly popular judge with a friend on Congress.

Aurélien laughed when his conversation partner chuckled then he extended hand to pat the other person on the shoulder, moving to excuse himself. He was being as pleasant as ever, pardoning himself from the group that had surrounded him and letting his field breathe a little more while he moved through the sea of bodies.

The music coming from a playing band flooded the room in a tune that was lively enough to invite people to drink and be merry, but was also quiet enough to not overpower the conversations of the guest. Aurélien’s mother’s laugh drowned the music out entirely for moments at a time, as did the bellows of her audience as they shared the humor in her joke.

Aurélien could feel his father’s eyes on him as he moved towards the popular judge, a man named Arthur. Aurélien made a beeline for Arthur, catching the man’s eye eventually as the taller than average galdor broke through the sea of gathered bodies. Arthur and Aurélien came to one another with pleasant smiles plastered on their faces, their fields politely neutral until their hands met one another and they exchanged names. They immediately began prodding and analyzing the other’s field with unabashed curiosity as they looked one another in the eyes during the handshake. When the handshake ended, Aurélien withdrew his curious probing and engaged in a polite exchange of words, attention wholly on his rehearsed transcription of key points to include in this moment of freetime he had with Arthur.


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Palis Ainu
Posts: 71
Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
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Race: Galdor
Occupation: Young politician. Temporarily out of service.
Location: Vienda
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Sun Jun 24, 2018 7:05 pm

Hamis 30, 2718
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”C
an you go a little faster?” Palis impatiently asked the carriage driver through the thick walls of the wheeled cell. The foreboding blanket of low, dark clouds pressing down to tuck the world in for the night worried him; it was simply unacceptable for a galdor like him to arrive in an unprofessional fashion, especially this particular night. Tonight, the young man who had not yet shaken off the dew of childhood would be among the most prestigious and grand members of present society. He had prepared himself for this day with stars in his eyes for years, going as far as to clip the faces of socialites from his father’s discarded news journals and study their names, occupations, interests, and achievements so as to one day be perfectly adept with speaking to his very idols.

The carriage eased to a halt before a grand scene. A picturesque home with welcoming, winking eyes of lighted windows squatted proudly above the footmen, drivers, and carriages that awaited their masters’ departures. The men and carriages looked more like the tired toy sculptures of polished and painted tin that children busted themselves with than breathing men and idle carriages. Palis smiled at his reflection in the carriage’s window smudged by fingerprints, wondering just how many copies of his tiny apartment could be stacked up in the mansion before him.

The door of the dim carriage opened with a soft whoosh, the cool air of pre-storm offering relief as it diluted the heavy air of the carriage’s tawdry cabin. Palis took one deep breath, inhaling the dust of the carriage’s cushions and the metallic smell of the coming storm before grabbing the hand rails worn smooth by a thousand hungry hands and lifting his small frame out of the vehicle to the carriage-worn drive below. The moment the cart was free of its load, the pre-paid driver rode off into the night with the crack of his whip, leaving an anxious Palis and a young bellhop to observe the waning beat of the horses’ hooves and the dull, indistinct hum if the party before them.

The sharp contrast of the empty sky and the chandeliers hall shocked Palis’ heterochromic eyes as if a torch had suddenly been lit in an inky, windowless prison cell. He blinked rapidly to adjust his vision, hoping to consume the scene before it consumed him. Here, tables of refreshments. There, a mellow band. Below him, a floor shimmering so delightfully under the twinkling lights that he thought he might dive headfirst into it. And before him, scores of the most beautiful people he had ever seen, and he was each and every one’s biggest fan. Ambassador Quaila? Councilman Detric? He felt, for a moment, that he had died and was meeting spirits in the equalizing Otherworld.

Yet, this was not Otherworld. He had finally made it past the drunken parties of his Brunnhold days, the tediously mundane parties of his father’s scientist friends of his childhood. Tonight Palis has truly reached ho and touched his dreams with the tip of his little finger, but, oh! How the excitement made his stomach dance!

He would need a drink, but only one, the lightweight reminded himself, because this wasn’t that kind of party. He took a moment to compose himself and map the best route to the refreshments before he stepped off with a palpable self-assured ease and purpose. He turned on his charisma, or rather amplified it, as he ventured into the undulating pasture of people with a pleasant smile, subtle nods, and a few how-do-you-do’s and I’m-well-thank-you’s. By the time his pale fingers had wrapped around the sweating glass of the nearest beverage, he was fully adjusted and tuned into the room. He took a sip and, as the excitement and alcohol mingled inside of him, dove into the crowd.

tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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Aurelien LeClair
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Mon Jun 25, 2018 6:04 pm

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Aurélien spoke to Arthur in feigned confidence, actively working to keep his anxiety from reflecting in his field. He could tell from Arthur’s field that the man was a powerful mage, capable of gleaning perhaps more than the average sorcerer could from the brief look at Aurélien’s aura. Aurélien had to play his cards carefully, and his deck was played card by card with each lash of his tongue to puff up and groom Arthur’s ego. Of course, as predicted, Arthur deflected each compliment with one of his own to Aurélien’s accord. It was the polite thing to do, and Arthur was wholly polite indeed. Aurélien didn’t feign the smiles on his face when each compliment was reflected back at him. He truly felt proud of his accomplishments thus far as a man on his own. It was known that his father had set the cornerstone for his success, but Aurélien had built the building of his achievements without his parents’ aid. Their name was an innate boon, and it was all Aurélien wielded in strategic conversations pertaining to his career.

“I foresee great things for you, Aurélien,” Arthur said. The man smiled a truthful smile as far as Aurélien could tell. He wasn’t going to call upon the mona to clarify if Arthur was being sincere. He had to trust the smile.

“With any luck, I’ll attain the same prestige and value of my father,” Aurélien said back. He chuckled next, letting the seeds of his words be planted under the guise of a joke. “Did you hear that he settled his case in the Aspwalls’ favor?”

Arthur nodded agreeably. “I did! It was quite the payout, wasn’t it?”

Aurélien chuckled again and nodded. “It was, but a large portion of what was received was donated to the the township of Muffey. My father stayed there quite a bit over the summers while he was a student. He forged a friendship with many of the businessowners there. In fact, he represents a fair few of them and even has friends that are professors at the University - some of his contemporaries.”

Aurélien brought his glass to his lips, sipping from the font of white wine as he let his words sink in. Telling his father’s connections and of his charitable ways would help to make him appear like a great asset; being well-known for good acts often made for a popular figure, Aurélien had learned.

“Actually, Arthur - is it all right if I call you that? Why don’t I bring my father over so he can tell you himself? I’m sure he could shed light on the details that I don’t know.”

Aurélien’s smile was small but suggestable. He already had a hand out ready to wave his attentive father over. Arthur ended up agreeing, causing Aurélien to beckon his father. The elder LeClair came quickly, departing from his group of company with a hearty laugh that would tell of his sociable nature. All was coming together quite nicely in Aurélien’s opinion.

Gauvain LeClair came and clasped his hand over Aurélien’s shoulder, giving him an equally appreciative and dismissive cue. “I’ll let you two talk,” Aurélien said. He nodded in goodbye before he slid from the two men to rejoin the bumbling bodies.

He walked towards one of the refreshment tables and downed the remainder of wine in his glass before reaching for another. There were many passive servants in the area, so the one manning that table took his glass to free his hand for another. Now it was time to rove the crowd yet again for one of the other targets.

Aurélien slid back into the crowd, his long legs carrying him in an assured gait. His head was on a swivel, moving to and fro to scope out the entire room. His vantage point made it easy as he stood quite a few inches taller than a majority of the other galdori gathered. He brought his glass to his mouth again, drawing from the well of sweet and tangy liquid. The glass came to rest highly at his center, near the breast of his dark waistcoat. His vest lay over the pristine white dress shirt beneath, accented with the black bowtie to match his trousers. His shoes were white mostly, though the toes were black to soften the stark contrast with his bottoms. Aurélien’s sense of fashion had been cultivated by his attentive mother.

He was enjoying himself - perhaps a little too much - because his attention lapsed for just a moment and he came crashing into another, smaller body. His drink sloshed in the curve of his glass and was rammed into the air, falling on his waistcoat and shirt underneath, soaking them. The wine also rammed forward, falling towards the person he ran into: a galdor shorter than him with markedly wavy, strawberry blond hair and a lithe frame.

“Oh, bells and chimes,” Aurélien whispered. He went to rub away the excess wine before it soaked fully into his waistcoat. “Are you okay? I’m terribly, terribly sorry,” he said more to the other man. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”
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Palis Ainu
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Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
Topics: 10
Race: Galdor
Occupation: Young politician. Temporarily out of service.
Location: Vienda
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Mon Jun 25, 2018 8:55 pm

Hamis 30, 2718
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P
alis had been bobbing slightly to the faint, inviting music lingering like smoke floating just above the crowd as he stepped a subliminal waltz ingrained into his muscle memory through the crowd.

Slow. Quick! Quick!

At a mere 5’4”, he was forced to look through the fleeting windows formed between the warm and chatty bodies mingling jovially around him. He felt as though he were trying to spot a single deer through a hundred waving conifers while racing by on horseback. For a moment, he spotted the gaudily made-up face of a wonderfully cantankerous Congresswoman. Inside Palis’ head, his temporal lobe began whirring to remember what he had studied about her. His fusiform gyrus, a master of facial recognition, scanned and recognized the face and began pulling the long-studied files and notes about the woman. Conservative, rich, dog-loving, specifically Bastian poodles. He weaved skillfully through the crowd as if he were a needle being deftly bobbed in and out of fabric. He was already packaging his words to send to her as he moved.

Madam, your Bastians were simply marvelous in that elaborate dog show here in Vienda last week. The three of them, Silas, Cyrus, and Cyprus, truly deserved to hold first, second, and third,” he’d say with an undeniably genuine tone. She’d be so impressed by his legitimate attention to her dogs that, for the first moment in a millennium, her scowl would fall away for a millisecond to reveal the pale creases in her wrinkled face that were missed by her dark foundation. Yes, he hoped his imagination wasn’t leading him astray as he began to raise a hand towards her to signal his steady approach. As perfect beginnings often end, Palis’ track was compromised by a much larger, external force colliding with him.

Palis stumbled to the left, watching with a curse ready to leap off the diving board of his tongue as his own drink in his right hand and the drink of the man that had plowed into him launched excitedly out of their vessels and ended their short-lived but oh-so-exciting adventure by impressing themselves upon the threads of his clothes. The red of his own drink was quickly soaking through the white collar of his shirt, the white sleeve peeking out beneath his navy coat around the hand that held the glass, and the pale yellow vest hugging his chest beneath his coat like a golden treasure in a navy sea, now soaked in red rubies.

Of course the pendulum would dare to swing this way,” he cursed under his breath before warily surveying the damage he had caused upon the other man. Palis was a bit shocked to find a galdor man a full half a foot above him. Palis stepped back so as not to break his neck looking up at the man, a young galdor with pale skin, dark hair, and a fashionable ensemble Palis would have complimented then begged him out of had they met under different circumstances. Palis barely heard the other man as he spoke, instead glancing longing at the opening to his perfect conversation with the Congresswoman as the crowd shifted and his opportunity was lost. Oh, what crude retorts his father would be launching at him had the elder man not been such a cowardly hermit!

Sensing a silence where he should most likely respond to whatever the other had said, Palis let out a small, nervous laugh, running the long fingers of his free hand through his hair, turning directly to face the larger man, and letting his charisma take hold of him.

Palis glances into his empty glass and up at the other man, unable to control the rosy chagrin that lit into his childish face. He hoped that his embarrassment would at least make him seem pleasant and down-to-earth, not puerile and unprofessional.

Okay, Palis.

So much for a good first impression,” he laughed pleasantly and brightly like a friendly church bell on a warm afternoon. To show him you’re not mad, Palis noted.

I would shake your hand, but mine has been doused in red wine, he started again before the other could respond, nodding towards his right hand that was slowly becoming incredibly sticky as the wine dried. To assure him you mean no disrespect and acknowledge that you know how to properly act.

I’m Palis Ainu, formerly a stainless intern and student studying politics. You must be someone of significantly more importance with such an outfit,” Palis introduced himself, hoping that his quick damage control would cushion the fall of his high hopes for the night.
tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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Aurelien LeClair
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Joined: Sat Jun 16, 2018 11:08 pm
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Tue Jun 26, 2018 12:43 am

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Despite speaking directly to the other man, Aurélien’s attention was on his clothes. Thankfully the wine he was drinking was white, and thusly could be hidden under the right light once his shirt dried. The suit had been custom made for him by his mother specifically for this occasion, and here he had gone ruining it. He was not looking forward to the chiding that was sure to come, but thankfully his mother was preoccupied and thusly this little accident went unnoticed. Aurélien only wanted to keep it that way.

He heard the other man speak up with a laugh and turned his attention to the shorter galdor. The space between them was friendly enough and the man didn’t seem to harbor any ill-tidings aimed at the young LeClair.

“So much indeed,” Aurélien echoed, equally lighthearted.

Up close and facing one another now, Aurélien could clearly see the person he bumped into. The man was shorter than him indeed but sported hair much lighter in color than Aurélien’s own. Another thing that Aurélien did not have similar to the other man was the heterochromatic eyes, eyes that beamed with welcoming in spite of having full reason to be upset with Aurélien. The young LeClair wasn’t going to question it, instead choosing to fulfill his role as a host and rebound from the incident with poise and grace.

“Since we’re already a mess, I say we shake to keep up appearances,” Aurélien said. The taller man extended his hand as Palis introduced himself.

The Ainu name was not something that tolled a bell in Aurélien’s head so he left it at that. His father often reminded him that the LeClair name used to be barely worth the breath used to speak it. Times had changed, thankfully, but the lesson had humbled a younger and gawdier Aurélien, so he held no qualms here.

Whether or not Palis took his hand, Aurélien replied with an introduction of his own. “I am Aurélien LeClair, formerly stainless lawyer and host. I am only of import because of the name I carry, and it is my father’s not mine,” Aurélien said. His voice dripped like amber honey under the low rumble of conversations around them.

“If you’ll allow me the opportunity to save face, I can have one of the servants fetch something from my mother’s workshop here on the estate,” Aurélien suggested. His mother often kept additional outfits in her workshop that she would use as foundations for her more elaborate designs. “My mother’s Morgane,” he went on. “Mayhaps you’ve heard of Reign, her shop in the city? She often has a stall on the Kingsway Market.” Aurélien couldn’t help passively talking up his mother’s brand.

While he listened to Palis’ reply, he used his height to wave down a wandering servant with an empty tray that once held refreshments. “Rose, can we have two towels, please?” he called over the other galdori. “Had a bit of a spill here.”

He saw Rose nod and turn towards the hall that would lead to the kitchen, where a majority of the servants were traveling to and from throughout the night. Aurélien turned his attention back to Palis as Rose trailed away. He hadn’t taken the moment of introduction to study Palis’ aura, but now he could and he did. Politely, he skimmed the peripheral layer of Palis’ field to glean what he could from the man. Aurélien’s own field was neutral and slightly drawn in as to not be rude, though it reflected his ability with magic whilst showcasing the apologetic and abashed mood he happily displayed. The spill was his fault, after all, and he wasn’t going to hide the fact that he was sorry.
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Palis Ainu
Posts: 71
Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
Topics: 10
Race: Galdor
Occupation: Young politician. Temporarily out of service.
Location: Vienda
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Tue Jun 26, 2018 1:50 am

Hamis 30, 2718
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I
never thought that, in coming to this party, I would have to warn the host that my hand was sticky,” he muttered, prying his wine glass away from his tacky skin as the distinctly fruity smell of wine filled the air around him. Aurélien Leclair, the name screamed success in Palis’ opinion. He embraced Aurélien’s hand happily, carefully attempting to avoid too much contact between his hand and the other man’s so as to prevent himself from having to pry his hand away from someone who seemed able to pay for Palis’ death.

The man seemed pleasant enough. Young, seemingly successful or on the road to it, attractive, mature, and not quite as terrible a galdor as some of the others Palis had met in the few months he had been free of Brunnhold. The man’s low voice and height made the 20-year-old feel rather like a child, but, he reminded himself, he really was. Aurélien seemed rather strict and serious for Palis’ tastes, however; Palis was unsure, even with the man’s agreeable tone and absolutely delectable voice, if he was not being a mere pest. He struggled to read the placid demeanor. He mentioned that his importance was only because of his name, but, even if Aurélien’s father was in his flash cards of people he should know and even if his mother’s clothing was in his closet, Palis stood strong in one of the few intelligent phrases he wholeheartedly preached: a name and a bloodline does not define the importance of an individual.

I’m sure you’ve more importance than your name, absolutely sure of it,” he reassured, his signature hopefulness and optimism seeking through his every word as he continued looking steadily into the taller man’s dark eyes with the shadow of a confident little smile playing across his pale pink lips. “Besides, neither your father nor mine are here with us in the amber of this very moment. Surely there’s more substance to us than our fathers, or neither of us would be in the right here and right now.”

He smiled absentmindedly, letting Aurélien place the budding conversation back into the tracks he had driven it off of. As Aurélien suggested that clothing be fetched from Morgane Leclair’s personal workshop for him, he nearly fainted, but managed to raise a dismissive hand as if to say I could never. Before he could truly verbalize his wish, or lack of one, the names Morgane and Reign projected through Aurélien’s low voice gained his excitable interest.

Of course I’ve heard of Reign,” he exclaimed giddily, like a child allowed to present their favorite toy to their classmates.

You’re perfect, you know,” he admitted, once again overcome by the wonder filling the room around him. The lights, the drinks, the people- it was as if he’d stepped into a painting, and now, here he was, talking to Morgane Leclair’s son as if they were something near equals. Through the fog of awe surrounding his head, he heard his own voice make a rather foolish and childish statement as he watched Aurélien finish speaking to a servant and return his attention to Palis.

What I mean is,” he began and laughed nervously at himself. He was rarely such a pile of broken gears when it came to social situations, but he was simply drowning in puerile ecstasy. He cursed himself, but, really, was unsure if anything could sober him up from this high of fantasy. He ran his hand through his hair again, leaving his hand to rest on the back of his neck. He could feel the heat rising off of him as he tried again to explain his excited babbling , this time taking a deep breath and, with a certain serenity and sincerity in his warm voice, tried again : “If I could make my life perfect for me, it’d be like yours.”

I must apologize, I’m not thinking at all. This is just my first event of such importance as you’ve most likely concluded, and such a terrible mishap as our little spill has left me just a step offbeat,” he said finally, his insatiable appetite for approval and validation struggling to grasp whether or not he was doing anything right. He took a shaking breath, and hoped the man would have mercy on this child.


tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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Aurelien LeClair
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Wed Jun 27, 2018 12:51 am

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Aurélien was too concerned with making sure his outfit wouldn’t be permanently besmirched and didn’t allow himself the time to reply to what Palis had said about one’s name and one’s import. Silently, he agreed with what Palis had said, though he was not naive enough to believe that without his name he would be as successful as he was then. It was practical, in his opinion, to swing one’s name when one could, thusly opening doors for oneself that would have otherwise been kept closed. However, he did agree that one’s actions defined oneself more than one’s name did. It was about what happened after the opportunity and what could be done after the doors were opened. After the doors had been opened, it was up to him to live up to -- and exceed -- the expectations placed upon him because of his namesake.

Palis said he heard of Reign, and Aurélien was pleased, though his face only showed a polite and warm smile -- practiced. Aurélien was skimming the party as Palis spoke again, not quite paying attention to what was said as his attention was on the servant Rose. With Rose gone and out of the way, his attention was back on Palis, intently.

The taller and older galdor couldn’t help but smile at Palis’ terribly uncollected way of going about their conversation. The smile remained, and Aurélien couldn’t hide the fact that he thought Palis’ rambling was adorable in a way. There was something so very childlike and innocent about Palis’ way of being -- how out of his element he seemed compared to how collected Aurélien believed he was being.

Aurélien looked around as Palis’ spoke, making sure that his mother was still preoccupied with her guests, that his father was still speaking to Arthur, and that the other targets for the night weren’t hovering on his peripheral. A terrible host would’ve excused themself in that moment, not wanting to give someone such as Palis the time of night. His father’s words stuck with him as he scanned the room; he wouldn’t treat Palis as no-one simply because he was not as well versed in this environment as he was. Gauvain had told his son that someone once took the time to teach him how to navigate the expansive social ocean of the galdor upper-class. Aurélien surmised that it was possible that he was supposed to be Palis’ lighthouse on this dark night, if only for a moment to get him back on track -- or on beat, as the little man had put it.

The young LeClair brought his attention back to Palis at the tailend of the young man’s statement. The shaky breath taken by Palis only exasperated the feeling Aurélien had within him to insure that everything would be okay, that he wasn’t upset, and that nothing so much akin to illness would befall the young man. Despite the thoughts rushing through the forefront of his mind, Aurélien’s face remained soft, and softened all the more as he extended a hand to clasp Palis on the shoulder.

“Palis, take a deep breath, all right?” he said. “How about you come with me to my mother’s workshop? One, so that I can change my shirt and coat. Two, so that I can further apologize for causing this hiccup. And three, so that you can take a moment to get back ‘on beat.’ Also, you’ll be able to say that you saw Morgane LeClair’s personal workshop when I introduce you to any one of these people of import -- or perhaps you’d like to meet my mother personally? She’s very receptive to fans.”

Aurélien smiled down at Palis when he was done. “At least allow me to do that so that we both may feel a little better about this night.”
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Palis Ainu
Posts: 71
Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
Topics: 10
Race: Galdor
Occupation: Young politician. Temporarily out of service.
Location: Vienda
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Wed Jun 27, 2018 4:19 pm

Hamis 30, 2718
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Palis jumped slightly as the taller man clasped him on the shoulder, the physical contact jarring him enough to stifle his rambling.Though he knew the contact was meant well, it did little more than make him feel excessively childish and annoyingly immature, more than her already did. He could distinctly remember many of his father’s contemporaries executing the same gesture when speaking to him about his studies, toys, and future as a child. As if Aurélien’s hand was a rash-causing plant, Palis felt a tide of rubicund discomfiture glowing from his shoulder into his face. Though they had both been lucky to not have their little mishap widely noticed, Palis still was concerned that any nosy and sardonic socialite would notice the red splotches staining his front. Aurélien had escaped visually unscathed, leaving Palis to look like the bumbling fool who couldn’t even be trusted to properly drink his wine.

Aurélien’s clement and commanding voice seemed almost enchanting to Palis who, for once in his life, remained silent and nearly hypnotically attentive so as to ensure that he wouldn’t cheat himself out of a moment of Aurélien’s richly sonorous tone. The words, though pleasant in their context, wouldn’t be nearly as effective in another voice, Palis decided. Even without the offer to see Morgane Leclair’s personal workshop, Palis would have happily accepted. He enjoyed the attention he was receiving, and hoped he wasn’t wrong in his assumption that, because Aurélien hadn’t yet abandoned him in the unforgiving sea of eyes and was inventing to prolong their thus far chaotic conversation, he hadn’t completely annoyed the older man. Palis was thankful, too; he felt a bit safer and more comforted next to the towering and composed galdor.

Palis took a deep breath as instructed, but nearly choked on it as he listened to Aurélien continue. Meet Morgane LeClair? He would love the opportunity to meet such a great woman, a woman he had learned to admire as he browsed storefronts with his mother in a younger year. He remembered the way his mother had looked at the clothes, and his naive promise to buy her a pretty dress one day. It warmed him to remember her, but, back in the present, he was nearly convinced that he certainly should not meet Lady LeClair given his terrible handling of the current situation. The time away from the party in order to recompose himself could be just what he needed, however.

You’re terribly generous,” Palis replied, trying to settle into Aurélien’s same demeanor of calm structure. He felt himself relax against the man’s hand, and he grinned gratefully at the galdor, feeling his eyes crinkle at the edges with candid emotion.

I’ll certainly take that offer, but, mind you, it’s not just because of the workshop or the possibility of meeting your mother,” he reassured, raising his glass slightly. “Even without those possible rewards, I’d still be glad it was your drink that spilled on me tonight,” he chuckled good-naturedly.

Though oblivious to many things, his father’s constant reminders had left at least one fact ingrained into his young mind: Palis was a handful that few had large enough hands to handle. Yet, Palis saw in Aurélien’s smile what he hoped was a willingness to try, try to handle him, to connect with him, and to enjoy his scatterbrained company. Few people had ever taken the time to give Palis much effort,but, if he was correct in what he thought he saw in Aurélien’s warmth, he was more than appreciative. A tentative excitement crept out from where mortification had hidden it, and Palis hoped the feeling wasn’t fleeting.
tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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Aurelien LeClair
Posts: 37
Joined: Sat Jun 16, 2018 11:08 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
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Writer: Mistral
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Thu Jun 28, 2018 12:28 am

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Aurélien was glad to see -- and feel -- Palis relax under both his hand and his gaze. The two worked in tandem with his projected calm enough to wind down the on-edge galdor in front of him. The older of the two was glad that their incident had gone unnoticed, for he felt that if many had witnessed what had happened -- and stayed to gawk or at least give an eye that lingered for a moment too long -- this moment of kindness would be for naught. He did not want it to seem as if he was only being nice for the attention, for some social clout that would ripple like whispers dropped into a still pond. No, he wanted his genuineness to come off just as that: genuineness.

“Even if it was because of those offers, I wouldn’t hold it against you,” Aurélien said. “It’s not unlike our people to jump at the chance for something they would see as deserved for what happened between us.” He smiled again, hoping that his joking slight against the other galdor in the room fell upon acute, and equally humorous, ears. “That said, I’m also glad that it was my drink that spilled on you. I wish others were as kind, understanding, and funny as you.”

“Sir,” Rose’s voice came. The newly arrived passive startled the young LeClair enough for his eyes to go wide and his head to whirl. The start only lasted a moment, but it was obvious enough for Rose - and maybe Palis - to notice.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Sir,” Rose apologized, “but I brought the towels like you asked.” Rose offered the said towels for Aurélien to take, and he took them. As promised, he handed one over to Palis before using the one he kept to blot up the remaining wetness lingering on his clothes.

Aurélien reached into his pocket and produced a tally. He went to hand it to Rose, who put both of her hands up in refusal. “Sir, I couldn’t possibly,” she started to say before Aurélien cut in with insistence.

“Take it,” he said. “It’s the least I can do for calling you over here on a hectic day. I insist.”

Rose submitted, knowing full well that Aurélien’s generosity would find someway to repay her. If it wasn’t a tally now, it would be two later, or him buying a meal for her without her knowing. She took the tally with full discretion, slipping it into the pocket of her nondescript dress. She slid from the two galdor as quickly and quietly as she came, blending with the crowd almost seamlessly. Servants were to be barely seen, even so less heard.

“Come, follow me,” Aurélien said to Palis next. “It’s on the second floor of the manor. We’ve got to go past the kitchen, so it’s best if we slip through the buttery.”

Aurélien would have offered his hand for Palis to take so they wouldn’t get separated, but given his height, he knew Palis wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. All he had to do was follow the tall man with dark hair that shone slightly reddish in the warm lights.

Aurélien moved with purpose. The air of his demeanor, and the fact of who he was, quickly led to parting crowds. He was careful to dodge the prying eyes of his father and the less-than-sober gazes of his mother. If she saw him, there would be no escape. Thankfully, he was well rehearsed in the act of avoiding his parents. He lived in this manor all his life, and thusly knew what to do to avoid detection. It was how he knew to use the buttery to slip into the kitchen and then the hall that led to the stairs that would take them up to the eastern wing of the home.

The buttery was busy. It was the launching pad for the servants - where they came to rest, talk about all the patrons in the main hall, and arrange their trays with a variety of wines and ales from the buttery itself. A quiet hush spread through the handful of passives gathered as Aurélien entered, followed by Palis. The galdori’s presence there was brief though, as Aurélien led Palis through the small room and straight into the kitchen. The kitchen was much less busy, only a few passives resided there to plate hors d’oeuvres on large trays to give to the crowd when they became peckish. Aurélien then slipped into the hall from the kitchen, leaving the boisterous sounds of conversation far behind them. The french doors to the main hall had been left open as to allow air to circulate and keep the room from becoming stiflingly hot, thusly allow the chatter of voices to be heard, but it was much like a whisper on the breeze in this branch of the manor.

It had become so quiet that the tutting of Aurélien’s heels could be heard of the wood floors. The hall was ornate, much like the rest of the manor. Sconces burning with soothing warm but dim light flanked them on either side, hanging near decor such as portraits, paintings, and weapons hung for display. They passed a few closed and partly open doors, concealing what lay beneath them until they came to a staircase whose steps were carpeted. Aurélien made short work of the stairs with his large stride. He only hoped Palis could keep up, for he was at the landing of the flight in short time. They resided in another hall after the stairs and Aurélien only walked a short distance before pushing a door on the right open.

The heavy door gave into Aurélien’s pushing arm and creaked open to reveal Morgane LeClair’s office and workshop. Several mannequins adorned the perimeter of the room, each one dressed in an elaborate outfit of pristine quality. A large desk sat on the far side of the room on top of a patterned rug and a wide board stood beside it on rolling legs. Sketches, cuts of patterns and of fabrics, and various notes had been stuck to every inch of the board. One large industrial sewing machine stood off in a corner of the room, surrounded by racks hanging with clothing of assorted fabrics and designs. To tie the room together, a tall and lengthy mirror lay against a wall, catching the entrance of Aurélien and Palis.

“She’s trying out this new asymmetric idea,” Aurélien said. He pointed at one of the mannequins that sported a frilly dress shirt under a black waistcoat with its buttons on the far left side instead of directly down the middle like the current fashion.

“She’s also been working with floral patterns enriched with masculine designs such as dragons and hawks,” he said. Aurélien pointed to a long tunic dress sporting a bright red base color accented with white flowers. The petals sat with green stems and an off-color dragon weaving between it all. There were two long slits on either side of the dress starting at the waist, that added to the sensual and almost seductive air the piece would give off when worn.

“Feel free to look around,” he told Palis. He, on the other hand, went for the mirror to examine the damage done by the wine.
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Palis Ainu
Posts: 71
Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
Topics: 10
Race: Galdor
Occupation: Young politician. Temporarily out of service.
Location: Vienda
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Sat Jun 30, 2018 11:36 am

Hamis 30, 2718
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P
alis wondered if the ecstasy and humble superiority he felt as he strode through the halls of the LeClair home was what a foreign prince felt when paraded through the streets of his ally’ cities. His nimble fingers, still faintly sticky from dried wine itched to run along the textures of the immaculate walls and read the house through his soft fingertips, but, afraid to contaminate the perfection like footprints in fresh snow, kept his hands clasped before him. Through the doors out of the buttery, the party and the chaos of the servants had faded away to a distant rumble like a coming storm. He followed Aurélien, stopping now and again as paintings, wallpapers, and decor pulled his easily-averted attention to them alluringly, just to watch him rush to catch up to the long legs of his leader. He kept quiet despite the deluge of comments and questions flooding his mind, feeling as if his voice would disturb sleeping giants if he covered up the lull of Aurélien’s clicking heels echoing through the vast and seemingly endless labyrinth of wooden hallways.

Though he had certainly never lived uncomfortably, the lavish and affluent home of the LeClairs was that of a lifestyle he had only dreamed of. At 20, Palis was living for the first time in his life without the care of the three passive servants living with his agent father in a Vienda suburb. His childhood home was a skinny, two-story building of contrasting orange brick and green ivy, a perfectly average galdor abode. The LeClair estate was simply a castle in his eyes.

The clicking of heels on wood was diluted by the carpeted stairway as he ascended swiftly and gracefully as if he had been tapping a single key if the piano and, heeding the composer’s order of una corda, pressed the softening pedal. Palis struggles to take the steps two at a time so as not to keep Aurélien waiting.

Palis lingered in the doorway of the studio as Aurélien entered the workshop, unsure if some blessing or purifying ritual should be executed before entering one of the most sacred grounds of Palis’ loose religion. As Aurélien began to speak of Morgane’s designs, Palis hesitantly tiptoed into the room, sidling up next to the waist-coat-wearing mannequin, tracing his long fingers up the buttoned seam seated in the left of the black fabric and imagining buttoning himself into this magnificent quality of clothing one day soon. He turned his head as the other man drew his attention to the long tunic covered in a weaving constellation of flowers, vines, and dragons. He appreciated the design, elegant and stoic, but he smiled as he imagined himself wearing dragons on his breast. Hawks, he’d consider, but he himself was much more a wearer of flowers and finches.

As Palis turned to feast his young eyes on the rest of the studio, he caught sight of Aurélien’s reflection as the galdor surveyed the details of damage to his clothing. The man interested Palis. He was attentive and aware, too things Palis rarely was but felt compelled to be around the young LeClair’s sphere of command. He seemed well-equipped to build success with a health foundation from the reputations of both his parents. With red undertones to his hair, a fresh canvas of blank skin, and narrowly epicanthic eyes set into his sharp face, there was no denying that the man was a purely perfect specimen of the galdori; get his demeanour painted him a high let breed than most in Palis’ eyes.

He would look away quickly with the ghost of s smile dancing across his lips if Aurélien had noticed him, scurrying away to look at Morgane’s sketches for an exclusive look of what next season would bring. After his childish wonder was appeased, he let his reflection step into the mirror with his new acquaintance.

I think I’ve perused long enough to recreate the whole room blind,” he said, announcing his presence with eagerness illuminating his young face.

I hate to increase my burden, but may I request a borrowed dress shirt? It could be from the servants’ linens, I don’t mind. I just don’t think this is quite the asymmetry your mother is exploring,” he explained patiently, pointing vaguely to the stain he had dabbed to a light shade of pink with the towel Rose had provided. He watched for Aurelien’s response in the mirror.

tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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