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It's my party (and I'll pout if I want to)
Posts : 4
Total Experience Points : 4
Join date : 2012-12-24
|Subject: It's my party (and I'll pout if I want to) Sat Mar 09, 2013 4:09 am|| |
It was a sad day in Unda. Or at least Elías thought so, sprawled on the floor next to his bed. The bath he had recently stepped from had ceased to steam some time ago, and while he was never one to enjoy a cold soak he hadn't had the energy to lift himself from it. A strong desire not to have pruned fingers when he went to his own farewell party had finally given him the strength to rise and exit the brass tub, deposited in his room earlier in the day by attendants, but had carried him only as far as his bathrobe. Pulling on the soft cotton robe, he had been overcome by a feeling of heartsick so strong there was little to do other than sink to the cold stone floor and wait for it to pass. So there he lay, half on the polar bear fur rug that sat beneath his bed, waiting to tickle his bare toes each morning, and half off it. He knew the way his damp hair was pressed against the floor would make it dry with an odd flat patch but he couldn't bring himself to care, at least not really. Well maybe a little. Okay, fine.
He sat up slowly, running his fingers through his hair to free up the locks that had been matted by his repose. Leaning back against the bed frame, he brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his long arms around his legs. The pale blue cotton robe had absorbed most of the residual water from his skin, but now clung to him in a way he thought might either make him look erotic or disheveled; he couldn't quite tell. Either way, neither was a look he was going for at the moment (though he'd take erotic over disheveled any day) and he began to pluck absently at the cloth stuck to his skin, peeling it away and letting it drop back. This only served to fan cold air across his chest and he could only stand it for so long. Couldn't a man even feel sorry for himself in the space of his own room without something getting in the way?
Standing with an exasperated sigh, he shed the robe and tossed it toward the rub, meaning to leave it draped elegantly across the rim but instead overshooting and sending it into the middle of the tub, where it sunk only to resurface slowly. Close enough. Rubbing himself down with the towels his attendants had left, Elías sighed again at the recollection of exactly why he was drying himself, instead of someone doing it for him. His mother had said something about self sufficiency and not being a burden to his hosts in Valetudo, but really, he couldn't imagine the king of queen of Valetudo toweling themselves off after a soak. The idea was laughable. Wrapping his hair up into a sloppy, makeshift turban, Elias began to dress. Which he was doing by himself. Alone. This all seemed very unnecessary.
Pulling on his undergarments, he allowed his mind to wander into a fantasy of what life would be like when he got to Valetudo. Maybe he wouldn't miss Unda at all. Maybe the Valetudan courtiers were twice as interesting and even more likely to be impressed by his scents and impeccable taste. He'd never met Noemi before, but by all accounts she sounded like a very good sort of princess, doing her social duties and such. He was absolutely sure they'd get along, how could they not? He would woo her with his poems and perfumes, midnight picnics and armfuls of flowers. Love letters slipped under her door and maybe he'd even try hiring a minstrel to sing outside her window, who knew. It was worth a try. The idea of it put him in a slightly better mood, though only just.
Letting the towel drop from his head onto the ground, he pulled on his pants and buckled his shoes. Begrudgingly he had to admit that the clothes his mother had designated for him weren't far from what he would have chosen himself. The pants were black cotton, soft and well fitted and just long enough to be tucked into his black leather boots, which closed with a stylish array of buckles just above his ankles. The toes of the boots were pointed, just the way he liked them, and ended in an ornate silver cap. He paused to admire his feet for a moment before continuing.
Next was the silk tunic, dove grey and so fine it was almost sheer. It was one of his favorites, with the tiny mother of pearl buttons at the cuffs and at the neck. He loved the way the silk felt against his skin and how the sleeves billowed around his wrists; he always left the top button open, because he could and because it made him feel sexy. He wasn't completely sold on the brocade vest, white backing stitched in gold with a pattern of blooming peonies, but he supposed it would do. The stiff, short collar framed his jaw nicely and even he had to admit that the cut of the hem and the shoulders, irregular, following the flower pattern, was sweet. Buttoning it up almost all the way, he felt he looked rather nice. Plain, but nice.
The one thing he was allowed to have help with was his hair. When a knock at the door came, asking if they could take away the tub, he allowed them entrance and his favorite attendant, Aubrey, was sent in to assist him. They chatted for a bit, about who was attending and what was being served, but eventually lapsed into silence, enjoying the familiar routine: she brushed his hair gently for several minutes before taking his current scent of choice (jasmine) and rubbing a few drops into his scalp. Then she brushed his hair once more before getting down to the business of encouraging his natural curls. He realized, near the end, that he was going to miss her - as a sign of goodwill to Valetudo and not to insult them as hosts, he was taking almost none of his personal entourage. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite sure what to say to express this feeling and so instead sat in silence, once again feeling rather low. By the time she was done he felt he looked much better, but after she had been dismissed he rummaged through his extensive collection of jewelry. Nothing too opulent, but he needed something. That ring was too bold, the other too subtle. He wasn't even quite sure why he still had that necklace, the style of it was very crude and not at all refined. In the end he decided on a gold ring studded with citrine and a matching earring drop. At least he'd look amazing, even if he felt like a peasant's shoe.
Another knock at the door. "Come," he said imperiously, admiring himself in the long mirror. A servant opened the door slowly, and only far enough to bow low and inform him that he was summoned by his mother, the queen, to attend her at the event in his honor. Rolling his eyes, Elías muttered to himself, "Yes, I know who she is," and but took one last look in the mirror before setting off toward the door. The servant shut the room of his door behind him; he was sure they would all miss him when he was gone, there would be so much less for them to do.
Striding into the main ballroom, Prince Elías Durant entered to the sound of his own personal fanfare and made his way to his mother, to do his princely social duties. He tried his best not to look sullen as he greeted courtiers and accepted their congratulations on his forthcoming engagement. It wouldn't have killed them to look a little more upset that he was going away, would it? Why was everyone smiling so much? Rising above his irritation at their thoughtlessness, he excused himself from a group of older gentry and made his way toward a servant holding a tray of fine, rose colored wine in delicate crystal glasses. Relieving the try of one, he tried to take a moment to himself in the midst of the constant conversation around him. No such luck, there was Aunt Eustine. If he could escape her cheek-pinching talons for just a few moments longer... But there was really nowhere to go, since the party was about him anyway. Every direction he turned eyes were on him, which he couldn't say he disliked, but this was one of the rare times he wished everyone would mind their own business instead of his.
An hour later the doors were flung open onto the sumptuous castle grounds and it was announced that the evenings refreshments were to be served in the palace gardens. Snagging another drink from a try, Elías sent his current group of admirers out ahead of him, hanging back for a moment of quiet and maybe a chance to find a slightly stronger drink.
Posts : 2
Total Experience Points : 4
Join date : 2012-12-06
|Subject: Re: It's my party (and I'll pout if I want to) Fri Apr 05, 2013 9:27 pm|| |
Demlar’s routine for the day began, as it always did, in a clear bath. No soaps were used, considering they simply dried out his skin and he was well past the age where he could afford to do that. Instead, he had a silver tray containing bottles of various oils and creams set out beside him while he bathed. Each one had it’s own unique purpose; some were used in his hair, others in the water itself, and then others were applied to various places on his body depending. This routine had begun years and years ago, though with far fewer bottles on the tray beside him. Now, there could be anywhere from eight to a dozen bottles at any time on that tray. After some time at sea, the numbers would jump drastically, however. He couldn’t afford to be stingy after all that salt and sun, even with his creams. That day, however, there were only eight bottles set out for his first bath. Taking the first, he opened it and let a pool the size of a silver form in his palm before replacing the cap-less bottle on the tray and rubbing the oil between his hands and then through his hair, massaging his scalp with his fingertips. The oil felt delightfully slick through his hair, bringing a smile to his face. His hair was the envy of many women, as smooth and black as it was, even if he now used dyes to cover his graying hair.
Rinsing his hands in a basin set beside his tub as to not soil the clean water in which he sat with the wrong oils, he then turned his attention back to the silver tray. Returning the cap to his hair oil, he continued his bathing process. The cream for his face was next, followed by the oil for his facial hair and eyebrows and then the oils for the water in which he sat (there were two different ones for that, and they had to enter the water in a very particular order). After soaking in the oil-water with his face covered in his creams and oils and his hair well saturated for a correct period of time, he rose silently from the cooling water and took the hand of his bath attendant to step from that brass tub and into the one directly beside it. This one was empty, and he remained standing in it and closed his eyes so that his attendant might pour water over his body, in the correct manner, of course. His body was rinsed first and then his face was toweled clean. Only after which did he sit in the short chair beside the second tub and lean his head back just in time for the attendant to pour the last basin of clear water over his slicked hair. As he tilted his head back, a cotton towel was immediately wrapped around his head and secured with a custom towel pin so he might be able to move freely without fear of the towel slipping. With that, his attendant was excused to fetch the servants who would clear his tubs and replace his oils in their assigned places. Delmar had no need to fret about any of those things. His attendant, André, had been with him for almost six years and needed no further instruction.
With a towel wrapped around his head, Delmar proceeded to the wide mirror set at his, for all intensive purposes, vanity. Sitting at the padded chair there, he arranged his post-bath creams. This process was much more laborious than his bath routine, as there was much more work involved, but it was well worth it. Over all, it took his approximately an hour to complete the process, before his hair was even touched. There was the cleansing creams, base creams, firming cream, and moisturizers for his face and neck, the thick moisturizer that was rubbed all over his body, with no exception, and the milk cream to keep the sunned brown from taking over his body. While he did have a healthy tan, he was determined not to let it get to the point where he looked like every other sailor. And that was just the beginning. He also had a small assortment of powders that he dusted himself with to avoid the sweaty, oily look in his features. After the powders, a wax like cream was brushed over his lips and rubbed in gently as to avoid any chapping from the sea winds or well, from anything. It also had the lovely effect of making his lips look just a little more shapely, but not too much so. Lastly, he had a few tinted creams that dabbed just below his jawline and cheekbones so that the might appear more pronounced. Turning his head in the mirror, he admired his face and gave himself a wink. He really was one attractive Undan.
Snapping his fingers, André entered his room again and pulled the pin from his towel without instruction, taking the towel from Delmar’s dark hair and tossing it with perfect aim into a basket beside the vanity. André’s hands were very quick, taking the correct light oils and brushing them through the still damp black hair on Commodore Roux’s head. Using his element, the attendant created a swift breeze of warm air across his master’s scalp as he brushed, ensuring that each hair dried in the manner which he required, slicked back and well contained. The process didn’t take more than a handful of minutes under André, and after then, the man moved to the corner of the room as the naked Delmar Roux stood to dress himself.
His attire was simple, as usual, though fine and polished, as deserving a man of his position. Black brushed cotton pants, a high collared white shirt that buttoned up high, though not to his chin. A full vest was buttoned over it, black and embroidered with silver silk embellishments to match the silver buttons. A simple black ascot was tied around his neck before he donned the black tailcoat with silver silk embroidery to match his vest. The silk embellishments reminded him of his element, which pleased him. It also didn’t hurt that the man’s pride was touched at the way he looked in such dark clothing. It suited him well. The lace sleeves of his shirt were pulled out and positioned properly around the wrists of his jacket before Delmar sat and allowed André to fit his black dress boots onto his feet and lace them well. Typically, the master of the house would be wearing his official military uniform out to such an event, but the uniform was being cleaned and tailored, as Delmar had recently gained enough muscle across his shoulders that required the tailoring of his navy uniform.
Once fully clothed, the dark headed man strode to his wardrobe to don the last piece of his attire for the evening. His ceremonial sword, given to him when he made commodore, was one of his prized possessions. The hand-guard was etched with gold details, the pommel containing chips of sapphire in an attractive pattern, and the grip itself was finely wound black leather all in a black leather scabbard tipped in gold and silver. It tied around his waist with a black belt, sitting nicely at his left hip. Moving to the tall mirror that had the best lighting in the room, he gave himself and once and then a twice over, smiling cooly. Damn did he look good. Raising his eyebrows to his reflection, he offered another wink and a head nod. Easily the most attractive man in the navy, if not all of Unda.
It took him a few minutes to tear his eyes from his own reflection, but once he had, he was a man with a task. Leaving his room behind, he moved through the hallways of his modest estate to the main entrance. Taking his silver capped walking stick from his doorman, he walked through the open door and out onto the streets. Today was the engagement party for a Prince of Unda, specifically Prince Elías, the pretty prince. The boy reminded Delmar a bit of himself, if perhaps less ambitious and significantly less intelligent, and more whiney and childish. Okay, so the lad was only slightly similar to Delmar, but they both shared a taste in physical appearance and the care of it. The Prince had a talent for perfumes and scents specifically, and it was that side of him that Delmar appeased. He had made arrangements for a favorite store of his to order some fine crystal vials for the Prince, as well as some vials of cream Delmar used himself to protect his skin from the sun when at sea. Expensive, but worth every gold to appease the son of the Queen. The vials were wrapped neatly in a boxes when he arrived at the shop, the man knowing that Delmar had little patience for lines or waiting in general. Dropping a small portion of gold coins onto the man’s hand, he took the boxes under his arm, surprisingly small for how much he paid, and left the store.
It was a warm day out, which had been his reasoning for ignoring his carriage, and it made the walk rather pleasant, if perhaps a little too warm, as he made his way to the Undan Castle. It wasn’t more than a twenty minute walk from his estate to the castle thanks to his good connections and money. He arrived at the gate and nodded briefly at the guards who knew him and walked through the open doors. The party was well under way, and as usual, Delmar was fashionably late. He rather despised the fire hour or so of a party when the gathering was small. Important people were rarely there for the start, as it tended to be more family of the guest of honor than actual guests. Two boxes under arm, he gave his name and walking stick to the man at the door to the ballroom and walked down the steps as his name and title were called out the room. Some people turned and smiled, mostly women, but men down the ranks did the same and some approached him, greeting him and expressing their joy at seeing him. Damn did he love ass kissers.
Only a few moments into the ass kissing, it was announced that evening drinks would be served out in the gardens. Fantastic. As the crowd began to clear, a young prince came into view. Boxes tucked neatly under his arm, hid bid the ass kissing officers farewell and came to stand at the young Prince’s shoulder, taking a glass of the too sweet rose wine that was being served.
“Congratulations on your engagement, Prince Elías.” With a smile on his face, Delmar offered a bow to the young Prince. When he rose, he offered the neatly bowed boxes out for the Prince to easily take if he so chose, but not enough to the point where it require the Prince to hold anything he did not wish to hold. “I have brought a few gifts for your travels to Valetudo, your highness, that I think you might enjoy.”
Posts : 4
Total Experience Points : 4
Join date : 2012-12-24
|Subject: Re: It's my party (and I'll pout if I want to) Tue May 07, 2013 11:44 pm|| |
Turning the delicate stem of the glass between his thumb and forefinger, Elías stood solemnly in his finery. Before him the large doors opened onto the royal gardens and he could see the long tables piled with food, any number of the things he loved to eat. There was a whole table dedicated to desserts, all the pastries, creams, and tiny bites of sweets a person could desire. Well, any person that wasn't a prince. He found he enjoyed the sight of them very little, those towering piles of marzipan and meringue; there was something lonely to their high, sharp peaks. He recalled being scolded as a child for pinching the very tops off the meringues his mother loved, but the idea brought him no pleasure. Everyone was drinking and piling their plates with exotic fruits and fine meats and he was standing here, alone.
He had sent those he was speaking to out ahead of him, but what were they doing? Who did they think they were, leaving his side so easily? Downing the rest of his drink with a finishing grimace he rolled his eyes. Obviously they had very high opinions of themselves; he would not miss them and their inflated opinions of their own worth. He would make better, more interesting friends in Valetudo. They wouldn't leave him for a small cup of wine and a bite of spiced chocolate.
The rest of the guests swirled past him, curtsying and complimenting him and he smiled halfheartedly in response, telling them to go enjoy themselves. But who was going to help him enjoy himself? Grabbing another glass of wine from a passing server, took a sip and stared morosely after the bulk of the guest party.
Delmar's voice cut through his reverie and he looked up, his immediate smile a disarmingly honest expression of joy. "Uncle Delmar!" As soon as the childhood name left his mouth he froze, a mixture of sheepishness and guilty pleasure on his face. Delmar had always been one of his favorites, someone who knew how to treat him well. He'd arrived during Elías' childhood and now the young man had difficulty remembering the time before he was around; most of his memories had been doctored to include 'uncle' Delmar. But it was improprietous to call someone who wasn't related to him by blood so familiarly, as his mother had reminded him several times. That didn't stop him from the occasional slip, though.
Putting on a more proper social face, but with a twinkle in his eye that clearly communicated the feeling of play acting, he bowed slightly to Delmar. "Thank you, Commodore Roux. You are generous as ever." Stopping himself from grabbing the first box greedily, he took it carefully in hand and unties the package, taking a peek inside.
|Subject: Re: It's my party (and I'll pout if I want to) || |