The Kings Ale House

[Carlotta]

Deciding to take a break from the ways of norm, it would find her patronage the controversial tavern. Controversial for an unescorted woman to frequent, but then Carlotta was never one to flow with the crowd. She would be the one walking in the opposite direction. A glass of wine had been ordered and now was being enjoyed at the hearth's side. A chair drawn close for the warmth's comfort. She found the drone of the crowd to be somewhat comforting, and many of the actions to transpire a bit of amusement. The books usually lugged about were now safely stashed within her room and left there, as well as the plantation after another confrontation with her parents. Such living conditions was one of the drives behind her going forward with her plans of action. She was bound and determined to make a name for herself, be recognized for the true talents she had. A few of her fellow comrades had chosen to spend time at the tavern as well, and any jabs or jests directed toward her person, were soon forgotten as they buried their faces within the soft pillows of the serving wenches bosoms. Their interests now upon their drink and women they'd claim for the night. "Peathingys." Muttered into that upturned chalice as a sip was taken. Her view on the men of station was definitely not placed high. Maybe it had something to do with how she spent the last six years of her life. A private life, one she wouldn't even share with her family since her return. When she announced her intent to ask for placement within the legal division of the Royal House, her father balked, her mother chastised; she showed them. Unsure if it was done for the amusement of the upper class, or a way for the King to shock all those beneath him, but her letter of intent was accepted and she became of member of the lower staffing of Barristers. Though not yet viewed as those who would handle matters of the court themselves, more like Paralegal's were they at this time. "Fetch its" would be a better descriptive. Searching through the volumes of law books to find passages that would add weight to what ever matter the Upper Barristers and Chancellors were facing. She tended to this, the matters of the Plantation, as well as working diligently upon her present study that would hopefully assist the King one day; and could very well end her existence of life if founded out

:: Stretching out his limbs his boot falls struck hard over the wooden peg boards. His hand left the dull copper door handle as it closed behind him, creaking upon its iron moorings. His presence had marked for some a familiarity, that, familiar face, no longer just one of many in the crowd. Not carrying his travel pack this evening, it might have made him appear taller. For his posture seemed to lack the luster of a more confident man, he sort of slumped forward when he'd walk, however it wasn't due to the fact that he was conceding to some sort of weight problem or back pain. Rather, it just appeared as if he were always in a hurry to get there. Git-er-done. On average he noted the Alehouse thinned out round this time of night, and so good company for him was easier to come by. Fewer drunks were prone this time of night to be awake, and married women tucked into their husbands beds, while wenches and thinkers seemed to have trouble sleeping. Rounding a table with 4 chairs, one would be picked up into the air and carried over towards the hearth. Four legs scrapped onto the foundation coming to a complete halt just as he hurled from off his shoulders his cloak, managing to plant it on the chair's back. Sitting down, one leg stretched outward allowing his boot to hook the hearth's rocky wedge. Tired eyes swept over to the woman closest to him, :: " Evening. "

The crowd would lose interest as she tracked the one who entered and appeared to be heading towards her own setting of peace. Not a face known upon herself, and state of dress would allow her the comfort to assume he wasn't a local noble out to sow his oats either; though looks could be deceiving. Once he settled she'd manage that polite smile to appear. "Yes it is." Some would view that as a smart ass comment, or even snide, although tone would be the basis of understanding it was stated more in jest of self amusement. "Fair eve to you as well, MiLord." Underlying hint of heritage in proper manner of speech. Irish lilt that could not be concealed, although she honestly didn't try. Chalice again to rise as a sip was taken of the mulled wine it contained, as focus turned back upon the room to drift over it. Noting faces patronizing, especially those whom she worked along side. Blackmail was such a nasty game and she had plenty to get even for, and it wasn't below her to do so this way.

:: Both his arms would cross allowed to hug his chest, as his gaze jumped from off the woman to study the fire. His chuckle welled upward at being called a lord, that had been a while. Gar sighed, not as though he'd gone into neutral shock, but that he actually found it amusing. :: "Pardon me lady for laughing, just I'm not use to being addressed so formal. In fact just today I was roughly escorted from the castle's inner courtyard. Apparently my presence was disconcerting to some nobleman. " :: He'd take a few moments to survey the woman. He couldn't tell if her eyes were a deep hazel or a dark brown. He did notice how they weren't critical, nor submissive. Interesting... His arms relaxed, sliding down from off his chest as he found himself slanting his speech in her direction. :: "Ah, but I do have manners, Garan the Great. Grand Master of the Entertainers world, and if you haven't heard of me, you can now say you just did. " :: As weary as he was, his bottom lip creased upward. ::

Attention would turn back upon him, now permitting him clear viewing of those chestnut depths. Left brow had risen slightly upon hearing his tale. "For what purpose were you within the court, MiLord?" She'd use the title again. A moment he was studied as introduction was made. "Then I must say, I just have. Are you a member of the Playwrights troupe?" Being an entertainer and having just met the Playwright, it would make sense how she came to this conclusion Chalice would exchange hands, and she'd offer out her's in greet of meeting. Fingers stained by ink for all the work she's tended to lately, although still, soft were those hands. Skin was that which had been kissed by the sun for an extensive amount of time, not the normal chalky coloration of most who hide from the sun's rays, or remain indoors. When the light hit right, auburn highlights could be denoted in ebon lengths. That smile remained polite, and kind in nature, although eyes would belie the curiosity behind gaining understanding to why he was so roughly removed from the Courtyard.

" Seeking a physician for a friend.. and...........no, I ah, have not heard of any playwright troupe. " :: The sincerity in his voice was real as her hand stretched towards him. Leaning forward, his boot slid free from off the hearth, his back stiffened as the blunt tips of his fingers lightly grasped the woman's hand. He'd not bend to kiss her knuckles, nor move to shake it, rather he'd turn it over to look upon her palm. He'd then hum distinctively, :: " Hmmmm what do have here .... " :: Tracing its cradle with his thumb, his dark bark wood gaze burrowed into hers for a brief moment. :: " It appears you have been working with ink, so you may well be an artist.....or, " :: Curling her hand over to look upon her knuckles, :: " no .. not a children's teacher, no bruises on your knuckles and not all that smooth either, which means you are not one who receives a great deal of kisses. Pity, for you have a very attractive.....hand. The cradle of your hand bears no cuts, or signs of out door work... how is it your fingertips are so darkly stained? " :: He'd be rubbing his forefinger across the stained tips, before lifting them...to his lips. He'd kiss the pressed together group, :: " Its like kissing the petals of a black rose." :: He'd shrug before starting to release his grip. ::

"I'm in hopes you found what you sought before being removed." Stated as he took her hand. The attention he placed upon her hand did have her glance at it and the way he handled it. Which had that brow arch a bit more before eyes lifted to meet the intensity of his own. A bit of a smirk would appear upon hearing his words, speaking of his observance for that single appendage. When his grip released, her hand would be slowly withdrawn back to the arm of her chair. "I'm one of the King's Barristers." She'd inform him quite proudly. Not a position to find women in, at least none she knew. Not easy shoes to fill, she found opposition around every corner, more times being treated as nothing more than a secretary when she had so much more to offer; if they ever gave her the chance to prove herself. "Not with the playwright? Are you affiliated with anything local, or just recently arrived to try and mark your spot.?" She found a bit of self humor in that last, envisioning the markings done by dogs and male felines.

" You're jesting, one of the King's barristers....how did you come by such an important post, lady.....? " :: He went suspiciously silent for a moment longer then most felt comfortable with, then being preoccupied in how she handled herself he'd found it interesting how so far, women manage to avoid giving him their names. He'd purposely let her fill in the blank before he'd continue. ::

"Basinstoke." She'd fill in the blank for him, it wasn't as if she had any reason to not introduce herself, it just would come in time. "..Carlotta Basinstoke." To be more concise. "It was quite simple really. I turned in my letter of intent which outlined my ablities and attached a resume' of things I've tended to in the past." Small shrug of shoulders. "It seems as if the King found me to be a valuable asset and placed me upon the staff. My father is also a local Barrister, but he works out of a private practice." One she would never be allowed to join, due to the short sighted vision of the old crones, as she called them.

" Carlotta, an Irish name?, " :: His infamous career in working along side those needing to be questioned seemed to be a natural art form for him. While she jittered out who she was, her father and how she was following in his footsteps his sight connected with the rest of her, a preoccupation of most men who rarely spent time with women in goodly attire for one. The exposure of the top halves of breasts with deep crevices only stirred one's curiosity. Yet his dwelling on her breasts ceased as he executed self restraint not wanting to come off as some sadistic hound dog, lusting after a beautiful woman's body. Come on, was he that crash? Hell yea. Of late he have to say he's been privy to mostly women who wear men's clothing, sleep with pigs, and care little about brushing their hair. Yet his gaze filtered through Carlotta's that held a sheen seeking to rival the setting sun. A weak smile jumped upward his lips as perhaps he'd been caught ogling. d**ned? No, he could look, just not touch..........yet. :: " Tell me more about this playwright troupe, I myself have been without a body for some time now. A long story I'm sure would bore you lady Carlotta. "

"How observant you are MiLord Garan ... Yes, it is." Responded prior to taking another sip from her chalice. As for the ogling, if she had caught him, she'd not make it apparent nor chose to call attention to it. In fact, it was a common place enough occurrence amongst those in the court. Not to mention the other's she's dealt with in the past, or dealing with presently. To his last inquire, she'd pause for a moment in thought. "Honestly, I don't know much about them myself. I just recently met the Playwright who has intentions of putting on performances within the court and has gained the favor of the King." She'd not go into the details of how that came about. "I don't bore easily, MiLord, I deal with old men all day long who fall asleep within mid sentence." Being away from the court and halls of legal hounds, she could make such statements. Not like she'd be over heard or reprimanded for her below the belt cutting comments. She knew not the man, nor he her, so it was safe to state such things openly and freely, without worry of reprise. "Perhaps one day you'll cross paths with him yourself, and can learn more of what he does and positions he may have open."

" Perhaps you might make for me an introduction, with this... playwright then? " :: Confidence was something Gar didn't lack, but to follow through on one his background stories seemed to risky for the moment. :: " After all, you already have had some sort of contact with him, and your suggestion is well considered, a good idea. I should meet him. What is his name? " :: Having successfully changed the subject,something he was excellent at doing, his instincts thus far about this kingdom had been right on. Too bad he wasn't something more then a struggling performer.Or, was he..... Fire lit Carlotta's eyes, another minor detail which caused him to stare at her, due to his waiting on her reply's...... of course. ::

"I'm sure that could be arranged, if you are in the right place at the right time." With his gruff removal earlier from the Courts, it may not be an easy feat. Not knowing the habits of the Playwright, she'd not promise something she couldn't keep her end of. "His name is Eolus Blunt." Offering a name for the man to seek out, in case he had a chance to meet the Playwright without her being present. Most of her time was spent between the Castle's library and the den of the Plantation. Chalice to be lifted, wine finished off before she'd stand from her chair. Again a pleasant smile offered to the
man. "I wish to thank you for the company and conversation Milord Garan, but I fear the hour grows late and I should return home before I'm missed." Also avoid a confrontation with her father who was no doubt awake and awaiting her
return. Perhaps to pick up the argument where it was left off with her storming out. "Until such time our paths may meet again, I bid you a good evening." A slight forward tip of her head in respect to the man, she'd not expect him to rise on her count, seeing the weary nature of his features. To save him further from feeling obligated, in the case he should, she'd turn with a sway of skirts and head for the tavern door. Her carriage wouldn't be far for her to call upon.

" The castle is a very large place, I doubt the gruff nobleman will cause me any more trouble. I doubt he'd bother to find out anything concerning me at this time, he was too busy trying to cut off the under garments of a woman. " He'd watch her frisky rise, and would surprise her by rising as well, being offered the hinder parts of the lady, he'd nod. :: "Was pleasurable to have met you lady Carlotta, rest well this evening. " :: The snapping of the fire behind him, made him think why he'd originally come into the Alehouse to begin with. As soon as she was gone from sight, he'd hoist up a couple of logs, stuff them into the belly of fire, pull up a second chair and move to stretch out upon them both. Tonight he would be sleeping, indoors. ::

[Carlotta]

The alehouse was not Edward's first choice, when it came to desirable destinations. However, it appealed more when compared to the Court which was, at the moment, bustling with activity. There was ever a pressing need for seclusion; a hunger for quiet and peace. Even in Yorkshire, his mind was forced to wing - if not with memories of Elizabeth, then with his sister and nephew, both mourning their loss. Court life, which so many easily contorted to, posed an obstacle for him. It was an awkward stage to be thrust onto, especially considering his heritage. Since birth, his name had been synonymous with scandal and he'd never had the passion to fight it. Instead, the Black Duke, as he was so well known, simply embraced his role. Such would be noted even now, as he approached the establishment on horseback, neglecting the custom that his title afforded him. Though he struck an imposing image, dressed in shades of black with a frown presiding his features, he was not easily inclined to anger. Indeed, had there not been a set of hands readily available to take possession of his horse, Edward would have stabled the animal himself. At the threshold of the alehouse, he paused to brush his palm across each shoulder, dispersing the light dusting of snow that had collected upon his robe. Stepping within the warm interior, the Duke maintained his haughty pose; his chin remained high - indicating his status far better then the excellent cut of his clothing. His gaze was indifferent, as it raked the cloister of tables and merry patrons, and seemed not to waver even when greetings were offered.

Half the time it would be hard to decide whether she was England's aspiring lawyer or if she was indeed Duchess of York. Except for a few nights prior when she'd come to this establishment she was always seen with a book clasped tightly in her arms. Not a volume for reading, but one for writing and contrary to popular belief it was not her diary she scratched upon those pages, but the life of those around her. Unknown to Rebecca, she had actually introduced Rhiannon to a place that was ideal for studying her characters. A few nights before her sister had pried her from her home with the promise of an interesting excursion. It had ended up actually becoming something of an interesting as she'd managed to catch the eye of the man she'd been somewhat stalking for years. All of her other subjects had been easy, she was able to gather the tidbits of their lives without so much as breaking a sweat upon her pretty brow. However, with Edward it was always difficult. He was one for solitude and not being the looked upon in a good light by the court he often steered clear of it altogether. A few patrons shuffled by causing Rhiannon to close the book in case straying eyes were to catch the words so eloquently written upon it. In time most of her findings may be revealed but just yet her great work was unfinished. The lives of the courtiers somewhat documented by the Duchess, she took pride in every word.. every spot of ink that had fell upon the page as she paused to think. It was all about them, but it was her words... her expressions that gave new meaning to the people of the court of King Henry VIII. Suddenly she realized the door had opened and turned to allow the chill wind to catch her face... and there he was. Sucking in a breath she braced herself for the possible altercation to come. The Alehouse was not exactly where one would presume a Duchess of Suffolk would be spending her time and Edward had shown his derision a few nights hence.

Again she'd find herself within the tavern's confines, settled close to the warmth of the fire. Still not accepted within the circle of younger Barristers, not that it bothered her any; Peathingys they were! Choosing to stand at the fire's side. This was done for two purposes: The first, it provided her a grand view of the room as a whole. Those who entered and exited during the night. Second, it provided a bit of privacy as well, not having to deal with the peathingy co-workers who would step past her chair to make their snide little comments. She has about had her fill of the latter, and vengeance is hers Sayeth the Lord. Just that thought gained a bit of a grin, for reasons of her own. No one in particular maintained that chestnut gaze long, just idle passing. Some faces known and familiar, those just knowledge of whom they were, and still more she had no clue as to whom they were. Sadly enough, the greater portion of those known to her, were not those who would gain entry to the courtyard in their lifetime. Attention would shift back to the small gathering of co-workers when she heard the bellowing of one. His words lost to her within the roar of the gathered crowd. Early yet, many games were in play, the loud boisterous voices that accompanied those of chance. The women who flitted from table to table, to gain a free drink or hustle a few coins. Some would even disappear with the one they spoke to, either to seek out an alley, a dark corner, or a room in which to gain a heavier purse for their attentions. All this was taken in, the differences of lifestyles that gathered here under one roof. Funny how a single area can strip men and women of title and position long enough to rub elbows with those less fortunate. Stately sitting at the same table as servant, their common denominator being the coins that were being shuffled about between the group. Choosing to ignore their jeering smirks and the devilment in their eyes, the other Barristers lost her interest as it moved back upon the room as a whole, while she sipped from that chalice.

]She had not been away from court for what seemed like months upon months, and thus she approached with timid steps and a somewhat lowered chin. She knew she wasn't all that her father wanted her to be; this she knew well as he made it quite clear... nearly painfully so. Why could she not be more like her elder sister, all grace and winning charm. Beside Anne, Mary felt terribly awkward. The simple fact that her mind tended to wander to those things that only an imagination could detect certainly did not make her ever-present quest to 'fit in' any easier. She paused apart from the alehouse just a bit before firming her shoulders and setting her chin, and slow and graceful-as-possible steps carried her forward and inside. A hand lifted to push the hood of her cloak back to settle about her shoulders while forget-me-not eyes looked shyly about. Her hand fell to her side where a small pouch hung, and her palm covered it while fingers felt the outline of a corked well and small pen. No, this would most likely not be the wisest place to indulge her thoughts. It was a small inhaled breath that steeled her nerves enough to keep her from running, and she moved to a table and slowly dropped into the chair, hands coming to rest in her lap while her gaze flitted about the room like a bird looking for a place to land. ***

Very many of those boisterous patrons parted for the Duke's path. Even those who were considered beneath his station were eager to withdraw from his presence, avoiding the merest contact of his person. He watched them, the cowards who gawked until they realized his gaze was upon them. He allowed them one, cold glance that was painted with nonchalance. If not for the most recent infamy he had gained, no doubt the entire Court would find him vapid. However, the Duke had noticed that gossip and politics was a fitting match. Unfounded rumor could literally be the demise of him - if the King found it advantageous to prosecute him for the death -come murder- of his wife. If he were wise, he'd seek Henry's favor. If he were wise, he'd succumb to the political war that raged at his doorstep. In this, Edward was not intelligent. His deep rooted need for isolation made him a target...and there was very little the Court considered more entertaining, then a target at home. Shrugging from his heavy robe, the Duke tossed the material onto a chair before curling his fingers around the edge of his dark doublet, and tugging it low over his midsection. As he lowered onto the seat, he indulged in another perusal of the establishment and was ... confused to see the Duchess nearby. His eyes narrowed in bewilderment before his lips thinned into a grim line and he glanced away.

No doubt he was disgusted with her being once again in a place of seemingly ill repute. However, Rhiannon was unlike many women. If he dared to berate her about it she'd simply turn the tables and ask him why it was he spent his time here as well. Unheard of in this day and age for a woman to even consider herself to be on the same level as a man but that's where Rhiannon held her pride and passion. Many thought her too forward at times as her intelligence would often run away with her and she'd forget to curb her words in spite of herself. Though she did enjoy seeing the shocked faces held by other women as she spouted such outlandish things. He turned his gaze away, yet she held hers upon him. After the other night she had grown a bit more bold as to where he was concerned. Perhaps the only person in all of England that did not hold him even vaguely responsible for the death of his wife. Standing, she pressed her book tight to her chest and walked directly to his table coming to stand at his side. "Your Grace... a pleasure to see you again, might you afford a lady your company this eve?" Eyes of deep chestnut raked over him, storing away the words that came to mind as she heard them reverberate against the walls of her head, which would later describe him. She fell into a curtsey, one hand removed from the book in order to grasp the brocade of her skirts so that they would not bunch upon the dusty floor. He would gain them their drinks from the bar as she settled at his table. Heads slightly bent forward as they engaged in a private conversation

It would be the entry of the mousy form that gained the Barrister's attention. Slight rise of a brow, wondering why one of such a shy nature, would even dare to venture within the den of wolves. Either she had to be lost, or simply daft to do so, looking like a sacrifice to the Gods. Another glance about the room and soon motion would begin. Passing by her brethren of the court, she would have to listen to their banters and uncomely comments. "Ahh, see, what did I tell you. She's going to use her womanly wiles to charm some high noble to support her cause." As per usual, Thomas had to open his mouth. This would have her turn an about face to glare at him, then close the distance to where her words could be kept low and only himself and a few choice others hear them. "I tire of your comments Thomas, and I'm giving you fair warning now! If this does not stop, I will see to it that you're shut up permanently...." Leaning closer to him. "...get my drift!" It wasn't a question for him to answer, a threat pure in form. Thomas just looked at her slack jawed. They knew of her father, could she have such a thing done? Enough of a question within his mind he chose to close that mouth and not say another word. Standing, she'd give all one of her best smiles, which lacked warmth or humor. Turning again she'd head towards the one she noticed earlier, moving to stand beside the young woman's table [Isle Artisan] and offer a polite smile. "Good evening lass. Mind if I keep you company, or you to do so for me?" Where malice touched features only moment ago, kindness was now that exhibited to the woman who looked to be close her age.

She was watching the goings-on intently, from the dark one sitting alone to the lady of breeding displaying a disarming grin to the woman that had nerves of steel where her own felt like water. Her eyes watched the Barrister as she seemed to challenge the men, or single man, rather. "You speak with the confidence that I wish I had, lady. Of course you may join; I am always eager to welcome a new acquaintance." Pale blue eyes shifted towards the table where said idiot sat stunned and staring with an expression likened to one that had been just slapped in the face with a fish. Gaze narrowed into a cool glare before she was peering back up into the face of the woman. "Please, do sit. And perhaps we may act as protectors to one another.... although I fear I may not be much help." A soft giggle parted her lips and she bowed her head. "My name is Mary, of the house of Boleyn." ***

Thank you kindly Milady." Softly stated as her chalice was placed upon the table before her chair was claimed. Gathering her skirts about her, she'd lower upon the chair that would offer the view of her back to the thingyy men she had just engaged with such bitter words. A light chuckle sounded. "Confidence?" Slow shake of her head. "I just grow tired of their constant barbs. Hard enough working with them, having to deal with them on my leisure is just a bit too much." The woman's introduction did gain a bit of a raised brow. "I'm Carlotta Basinstoke, Barrister to the Crown." A slight forward dip of her head in greeting before those chestnut pools were upon the woman once more. "House of Boleyn, by any chance are you related to the woman known as Anne?" She didn't know Anne personally, in fact, rarely gained the chance. She is tending to the Queen, and herself always busy with books. The women lived two completely different lives within the confinements of the Royal House. Resting back comfortably upon her chair, that chalice would be reclaimed. "As for protection, I wouldn't worry about that. I have many friends here that few know of." A touch of a smirk to grace her lips momentarily. The other Barristers may think her threats derive of her father, when it was far from the truth. Her connections by passed the legal sanctions of existence. Associations she had with what so many called the darker minions of life would be those she'd call upon if the need arose.

With all the grace and femininity of woman, and composure of royalty came the little woman standing close along the street lines. Faltered step quickly corrected with the indention of horse hooves and tracks of rickety wooden wheels quickly hindering her actions to mere judicial bows towards passer-by's. Maiden quickly following after as a woman was to never walk alone. Long petticoat drifting out and bustling nicely to help ward off the horrid cold of winter, and tight corset to help keep posture in line and equally beautiful curves from tangent shows of disrespectful and unnecessary exposure. Finally, coming to the destination well worth it's gold. Stepping up and towards the large establishment, she'd managed to alleviate herself of some fear of walking without a man to her side. And in she went. New to England, and certainly one could hear it in her voice had she spoken. And she did. Minor words spoken to the young woman behind her, allowing all opinions to be expressed to the quiet, listening girl. Annie-May made her entrance, as timid and unaccustomed to the area as she was.


"Anne is my older sister, yes. It is no wonder at all that you do not know me. Were it my father's choice, I imagine I would rarely see the light of day..." Unless it would help his stations to have her do otherwise. Inwardly, she grimaced. "Do please forgive the forward speech. I ought not speak with such words towards my good father. Call it immaturity, if you will," although she knew the truth to be otherwise. "A barrister. One does not often here of a woman in such a position. How does His Majesty feel about it?" Surely he adored his ladies, but did he love them in a place equal to a man? Eyes glanced towards the door as it opened, admitting a pair of new faces along with a cold breeze. The absence of a male escort was hardly noted; she, herself, came in with none at all! ***

[Carlotta]

Waving off the woman's apology. "I know what it's like to have an over bearing father. Trust me, you say nothing I haven't myself." Her smile would warm slightly as they spoke more. "Yes, it's not an easy task, let me tell you. To Be honest, as I have with most positions I apply for, I just forget to mention I'm a woman at all." Bit of a grin. "I always sign my documents with my first two initials, then the surname to follow. When they read of my abilities, then call for a meeting, it's usually comical, I will admit. Here they expect to see some thingyy young man to stand before them..." Hand would indicate herself. "...Instead they see me." Slow shake of her head. "Usually about that time is where many show me the door. Though I have had the Luck of the Irish on my side as of late, and what I offer as an explanation of how this came to be so." As she spoke, it was easy to hear the dialect of the Emerald Isles within properly spoken words. Attention would shift momentarily when the door opened. Back upon the one she spoke with focus returned. "Why are you so worried about speaking your mind?" A shift of position to face the woman a bit more. "There's nothing wrong with speaking your opinion. What's important is how it's done. You can actually insult someone, who can't do a thing about it, if they are of position. You simply have to show respect for their position. Once that's done, you can pretty much speak your mind." Small shrug of shoulder. "Just have to be careful of who it is, and how it's said. I will admit that. Some are just cantankerous and would strike out just because you twitched your nose wrong, or held not a special gleam in your eyes."


To answer, she began with quite an unladylike wrinkle of her nose before reciting from memory: "A lady of breeding ought never speak any louder than a whispering wind.' Was such an idea not drummed into your mind growing up? Believe me; despite how often I have heard the words, I still struggle with the particular how-to in it. Nay, I am safer if I merely smile prettily, curtsy when I should, and say not more. Being the younger of the family, and a woman no less, it is much safer for me to simply obey without a fuss... much as I despise it." Her gaze slanted over to where the Dark One previously sat and she sighed. "Oh, to be one that had all the freedoms of the world." An almost wistful expression overtook her and she glanced back to her company. "Do you know what I wish?" Leaning forward as if disclosing a most dark secret, she grinned. "I wish to write stories, for young children. There are so many tales we are told when we are young, and would it not be lovely to have an account of them?"


Oh yes, how many times had she heard that from her elder sister and mother? Way too many to count, that was for sure. "Yes, I too had endured such babble while growing up. Filled me to the point where I took off without word and disappeared..." A pause for a moment. "... for six years." Adding after. "In that time, I learned much. One thing I learned is that if you whisper, people won't hear you. To obey means to be taken advantage of because they know they can." Slow shake of her head. "I know when to keep my place, to play the game. But, I also know when to stand my ground, and I'll not become some meek quiet mouse for them to stomp. I will have my say." A bit of a chuckle. "I've been told I harbor too much passion." Another shrug. "I just know what I want in life, and I'll do what ever it takes to get it, without having to lower myself." She had learned well over the past years, perhaps that's the basis of that spunk she emitted openly and freely. Following her gaze to the table where the man and woman sat, attention was back upon her table mate. "You can be as free as you wish, just have to play their games." Offered in an explanation. Hearing about her true passion, a smile did form. "Really!?! I am a bookworm myself. When you decide to place pen to parchment, I would love the chance to be able to read your workings." Leaning forward a bit. "You do intend to do this, right? Not letting them rob you of that too, I hope."

"Perhaps that is my error: I do not know enough what I truly want. I know that I like to write, and dream..." She laughed and shook her head in spite of herself. "And, as a matter of fact..." The apples of her cheeks flushed and it spread across the bridge of her nose. Reaching down to her hip, fingers worked open the drawstring pouch and folded parchment was pulled from within and slid across the table, her eyes holding a bit of an impish gleam. "I have one such story with me, if you wish to read it. But please say nothing. I do not wish to disgrace my family..."

That gained the woman a curious glance, as the parchments she offered was taken into hand. "Why would your family find disgrace in your stories?" Voicing her curiosity, as the papers were laid out before her, and spread to be held down by one hand. The candle of their table drawn closer to spread light upon the parchment's surface. Focus now to the fine scroll of hand, as she began to read the words before her. A speed reader in a sense, as she could quickly glance over the paragraphs and retain the information each contained. One of the things that made her top of her class, any studies that were placed upon herself and colleagues, she always excelled at, where they were but mediocre at best.


Another quote came to her lips and she rolled her eyes within her rather than outwardly. "There nothing so hard to marry off as a writer...' “She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders.”And truly, I do wish to marry." She paused. "It is nothing brilliant, but I enjoy it..." Referring to the story itself, and she quieted then. **

The more she read, the more the story had her captivated. Not enough she didn't hear the woman's words, but to the point she was yet unable to respond. Soon enough she'd sit back, rolling the parchments before offering them back. "That is amazing, simply amazing. A true gift you have Milady and a sad day it would be if none could ever read that." Nod of her head to the papers she was passing. It would be the woman's words that had her think for a moment. "Then, don't publish it in your name, but an alias. I have heard of many writers who do such, to keep anonymity of the stuff they write; usually those that are quite controversial of course. But it would do the same for you. It's not like you couldn't find the time to write. In fact, I'll even help." The more she talked, the more ideas formed in her head. "You write your stories, and come up with a name to publish it by. Then we'll meet here, or where ever you're comfortable. I'll take it and have it published for you, over see it's sales and then see you properly compensated."


Her eyes sparkled and shined with each passing moment. "Are you quiet serious?" Her voice had dropped to a whisper and she leaned forward. "Could we not get into trouble for this...somehow? It seems too easy to be right." For some reason, what they spoke of sounded like it would be treasonous in some light, but surely a barrister, of all people, would know. "It is very, very kind of you, but I would not want to take away from your own work..." Her brows furrowed and she leaned forward a bit. "You do not need to; I certainly do not need the world to read what I write." Exciting as it might be! **


Remaining in that forward lean as they spoke between themselves. "No, we won't get into any legal trouble. I'll be sure to write up the paperwork that's necessary. It's just a matter of protecting your name." A glance spared over the room, then back upon her. "Using an alias is common place. You'd be surprised to learn just how many do it." It was then she smiled. "It wouldn't take much of my time at all. Arrange a simple meeting, get the publisher to sign a binding contract, then it's done. They take care of the rest. I'll set up a fund where all proceeds will go into it, and you'll have access to it at your own will." A pause as she gazed upon the woman. "Now don't get me wrong, just because I suggested it, doesn't mean you have to do it. It's just an opportunity offered to you, that you can accept when you are comfortable with the idea. I'm easily found if it's something you wish to pursue."


]Lips pursed together nervously and she looked around as if expecting her father to magically appear out of the woodwork. "Allow me to think on it, and I will let you know." Her lower lip curled up and over her lower row of teeth and she bit it gently. "Do you think anyone would want to read it? Truly? You need not carefully choose words for my sake; I can take the honest truth." Her heart had begun to beat a bit quicker, and she dared to let herself hope. **

You do just that." She thought for a moment. "In fact, if you chose to do this, just send word to my home. Basinstoke estate in Westminster, the tobacco plantation. It's where I live, and none would give a second thought if you were to do so. Thinking we were just socializing in a common way." Which truly it would. "My father is usually at his law offices until late and spends the evenings in my mother's company when he gets home. So we won't be bothered at all." Her last comment gained her the warmth of that smile the one which easily reflected within chestnut hues. "I think you would captivate more than just children, to be honest. Such stories will rivet many who picked it up to read. Such vivid detail you put in your characters, that I could close my eyes and actually envision what they'd look like. See the actions they take. Feel their sorrow, and their glee. You have a wonderful gift Milady, a talent so many would dream to possess."


Once more, color flared up in her face and she smiled brightly. "Thank you very much. It is a high compliment to receive, especially from someone who I know must be so very intelligent. Truly, thank you." Her hand cupped over her heart and she sighed. "I suppose I ought to send you some of the others, just to ensure that you know what you are getting yourself into." She grinned and her eyes sparkled a little with mirth. "I shall let you know immediately, and I do so appreciate your willingness to help me." *

It was then something else dawned on her as she sat back slowly. "You know, another you might consort with, it the new Playwright to the King." The more she thought on this, the more sense it made. "One who could take your wonderful written characters and bring them to life." Slowly nodding in agreement with herself. "Your sister has met him, and I'm sure she could arrange for you to speak with him." Brows furrowed in thought. "Unless you wish to hide this from her too, and if so, perhaps I could arrange a chance meeting." Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, as ideas continued to pop up within it. The woman had a skill that should not be ignored, just because of her station in life. Carlotta was always the one who stood up for the Underdogs not matter what level of society they walked upon. "His name is Eolus .... Eolus Blunt."


The Playwright to the King!?! Her eyes widened and her heart slammed against her chest. "Ah... I... thank you! That would be wonderful!" And a dream comes true! To meet such a talented writer as he...! She felt dizzy with elation and her face was simply aglow with excitement! She could barely believe her luck, or perhaps it was something more. "You are so... wonderful! Such a blessing!" Reaching across, she impulsively took her hand and gave it a squeeze, and quickly let go. "Oh, forgive me! You have just given me something to smile about!" **

]The woman's elation registered outward, removing that mousy countenance she had visualized since Mary's entry. This only caused her smile to grow in it's intensity as well as warmth. "I see you like that idea, then we'll have to be sure you meet him." A soft laugh with the woman's exclamation of her being a blessing. Slowly she'd shake her head. "I wouldn't claim such, Milady. I am but a problem solver, that's what I do, solve other peoples problems anyway I can." Another chuckle as her hand was squeezed, again she'd be slowly shaking her head. "No forgiveness needed. If a reason to smile is that I gave, then a good deed it is." Reaching to pat the woman's hand lightly before settling back upon her seat. "You make great stories, he claims perfection in performance. With two heads together, you'll simply wow all. Be it written word in a book, or set as a performance on the stage."


"I certainly know nothing about writing for a live performance, but perhaps the Playwright can help. If nothing else, I would adore another person's literary opinion." Her eyes widened a little and she paled a little. "Would not His Majesty frowns on it? Or...would he not be told?"

"I'm not entirely sure how it would work. What I would do is present your stories to the Playwright, he would then take them and write up a script for the actors to follow." Brows furrowed slightly in puzzlement. "Why would he frown upon it? It's not like you're doing anything indecent, or an act of treason. You would be simply assisting with providing entertainment for all. There's nothing vile about that. If you think about it, most artist are greatly revered by the hierarchy of states. Treated with pomp and circumstance."


Ears were curious and she'd managed to listen greatly in on the conversation. Sitting in her own solemn procession with an open mind to the ongoing conversation. The woman would not drink, not so yet as to complete her image. The place seemed to be d**n near empty in any case and it seemed the entrance was in vain. This was where she began to calculate. Eyes rolling over to the two women for a moment, making sure that her gaze was not seen. Then eyes went to the table before her. A simple gaze that any "foolish" woman might have gotten, for the times... Women were to be seen more than heard. She pulled out a piece of paper slowly. An old letter with a seal and began to open it, though it had been opened before. And she pretended to just now be opening the thing. Pulling the paper out she quickly put a hand to her chest as a short sigh of woe came from her. The deceiving woman that she was. Ties had to be made fast enough. "Oh no. Oh goodness!" Her sighs were of pain and sadness it seemed as she read the word, faking the idea of the letter.


Her lips parted to speak, but she stopped short and looked to the lone woman. Brows furrowed and she looked back across the table to her company. Her voice lowered to a tiny whisper. "Do you think she is well?" No, it was certainly not her business, but the concern was there all the same. **

Focus would follow Mary's to the woman in question. She would remain silent in her observation and would question her actions as she would. "Not sure." Would be her only response. Such dramatics in a public place as this, which demanded attention did cause a Leery edge. Though she'd not pass judgment just yet.

Tears began to form, oh yes... For she could act her way out of hell. Head turned off a little to the side, to her maid. Of course the two had seemed to get quiet, so it was all now an act to make it seem that much more real, for the sake of the situation, I will now stop stressing it's an act. Annie-May turned to the maid, starting to speak in a very low tone, evident the language was not English and quite German. The letter was neatly placed back into her satchel and she turned from her maid who's face had inevitably frowned at the words expressed. A deep breath was taken before eyes glinted to the side at the two and she placed her hand to her lips in slight shame. "Oh, dear me, I am very sorry for my expression of grief, I did not disturb you two, have I? I am very, very sorry." The pale woman stressed her apology with watery eyes.


Her eyes watched Carly's response and she nodded slowly. Perhaps she only wished to be left alone... they would find out soon enough. "Nay. Ah... are you well?" Her brows furrowed a bit and she canted her head to the side, shooting Carlotta a quick glance before looking back. **

Something wasn't right, she could feel it deep inside. The Barrister wasn't one of those common nobles who were raised in a protective environment and then walked through life thinking they knew it all. Quite the contrary, the last six years of her life were spent in quite a different setting all together. One in which deceit was the main goal, pretense that which got all by, mystery by not giving away more than necessary. A glance cast Mary's way, but she'd not speak. Those chestnut pools would turn back upon the mournful looking woman. A critical assessment was being made, and one she made no bones about hiding.

]That hand shifted from her mouth to press against her chest close to her heart as she turned her eyes away and took a small handkerchief from her maid, lightly dampening the thing to her eyes and cheeks before looking back. "With Leery steps I'd loiter on, tho' always under alter'd skies. I will be well. I'm very sorry to have interrupted." That little incident should have allowed her some petty piece of memory in their minds.


Her lashes fluttered and she canted her head to one side. What on earth was that she'd said?! Her gaze moved slowly back to Carlotta for interpretations before giving her head the smallest little shake. "Ah, I do so appreciate your help with this. It means much to me."

"Your interruption was intentional, Milady. One does not make such exclamations in a public setting, unless they wish acknowledgement of being." She'd call the woman out on the carpet persae. Call it her gut feeling, or a mind that held no rein upon her tongue, it was oft freely spoken. That said, and Mary's comment had her looking back to her table companion. "I'm glad to be of help, a wonderful break it is from dealing with laws and balancing ledgers. I think I'm about as excited as you are on the matter." Light soft laugh.

Annie-May heard the words. But she would dare not be uncivil nor Hostile. "I'm sorry, Milady," She began back. "I am a very emotional person sometimes, I do have to get used to England. I'm very, sorry. This English etiquette I must get gathered with. Hands were shaking now, naturally. And she began to stand, waiting for the end of the woman’s sentence. "I will not shut me from my kind. And, lest I stiffen into stone, what profits have I to have your acknowledgement?" In her own subtle way, she managed to make a painfully obvious crude comment into a rather nice one. Where she was poking at the idea of saying Who are you that I would want to know? Without outright making it so rude. How nicely she'd put it to make it so well worth hearing.

Mary started and looked at Carlotta in disbelief, and then her gaze slowly swung over to the Irish woman. Rather than try to speak, she would merely watch the two in silence.


The woman's words had her chuckling as she glanced back over at her. Get use to England? Borne and raised in Ireland for the greater part of her youth, she found England not that much different when her father moved her family here. Being one who used words to her advantage, she picked up quite cunningly the meaning to that which was spoke in such a sugary way. Brow would rise slightly. "A mystery that will remain, now will it not." Stated in a soft sweet tone of her own. No malice nor a challenge would be offered, just an understanding. If her intent was to gain the attention of one of the male Barristers that remained and now deep into their cups, so be it. Not her business if the woman gets turned into a plaything. No matter the woman's retort, she knew her actions were purposely done, but she'd not debate the matter here. Attention was then back upon Mary before it shifted to that chalice that sat long during their conversation, to be lifted and finish off the small amount of mulled wine it contained.

Well, the woman had approached in a very friendly way, none of her words were rude... But rather had their own meanings behind them and the current woman she spoke to had disrespected her greatly. Pale hand touched her chest and she swallowed her pride for a moment, blank look on her face for the first five seconds before stress came over her features for a moment and she began to speak finally. "Well, Milady, I am deeply sorry for whatever I have said or done to gain such disrespectful comments from you." Not to mention, half the reason she'd have wanted to know was due in part to address the
woman properly.


Empty chalice to settle upon the table, the mournful woman would again gain her focus. "It wasn't meant in disrespect, it was but an observation voiced. To become defensive is only the actions of one guilty who claims innocents." Blame that on the Barrister side of her, a court room observance even in a time of leisure.

"I'm sorry, but I do not agree. I think to become defensive over your saying my words mean something horridly more than they do, and saying that my actions are wrong as far as my feelings and emotions go... Is discredit towards me, and that is slander. This in the name of the Lord is wrong. I've no reason to dislike you. And I don't see what I've done wrong, what I have so blindly done to harm you in any fashion." No movement was made, rather, she tried to clear her name from the tag the woman had now put on it. Slander!


Slow was the formation of that grin to appear, focus remained upon the woman to whom she spoke. "I never made any claim of the like, Milady, for you now twist the comment I made into something more than it was." Amusement now glimmered in those chestnut pools. "A simple statement, it had no bearing on your name nor the tarnishing of it." Sitting back fully upon her seat, hands to fold on the table before her. "Such enactment of drama, you should surely seek position upon the stage, your performance is grand indeed." Hands would rise and she'd even clap them lightly before resettling again.

Annie-May let a smile cross upon her face. A ****-eating grin if one had ever witnessed one before. "Then I guess I am wrong, and I can admit." She paused for her little clap. "See, you are slandering my name. You say I've worked up an act and that is Slander. You are indeed discrediting me by saying I am acting. So, do not even..." She began to walk to the door. The maid already moving to open it. Annie-May turned for a moment. "Do not even say that you aren't in some fashion trying to hurt my name by saying I'm acting.” And she turned to escape the confines of the establishment. The maid closing the doorway behind. And as soon as she'd gathered a few steps down the street, a huge grin shifted across her face. "I like that one..." She spoke to her maid. "I think she will be the foil... That all went very, very well. I think, that almost went too well."


Slowly shaking her head. "Ahh, but so wrong you are Milady. To commit slander, I would have to speak against your name to another. I am saying such to you, to your face. Hence, slander it is not." Watching as the woman moved to exit the establishment. She couldn't help but to chuckle and then smile. She knew she caught the woman, but the woman was good. She'd give her credit there. Resting back upon her chair, a wink would be directed at Mary. "Now that's one to look out for. But, I have a feeling it won't be the last time we'll be seeing her around her." A glance towards the closed door, then back to her table companion focus returned.


[Mary stared at Carly and laughed, shaking her head. "Goodness, my lady. You have enough confidence for the entire court! I wonder that you have not been employed as someone's advisor or bodyguard!" She giggled and took the parchment back to tuck it into the confines of her little pouch. "I fear I ought to return home as the hour grows late. But I shall send word to you soon."


The genuine warmth of her smile returned and a nod offered to Mary. "I should return home myself, before I'm missed." This time she'd grin. "We both know how over bearing father can be." A joke between them now, both in a like position, only she dared to stand up to her father, and it benefited her in doing so. With that she'd rise from her seat and would accompany Mary to the door and out. Here she would await for her carriage to be brought around to carry her home.

[Carlotta]

Her words cut to the quick...: “I pity you for you’re empty soul, “: he heard the wench say. He was set on his course and there was no turning back from it. Garan fondled the mug's clever handle while pulling it up to fringe upon his bottom lip. Dark brooding eyes slipped away from the woman allowing his gaze to ping into the fire pit. It lacked fire wood and heat, its embers were well eaten by the flames leaving behind the skeletal remains of charred logs. Clumps of gray powder stretched horizontally while here and there crimson hot spots eyed those sitting closest. Twisting his gaze towards the blurry pane of one window, hooves clattered on stone, a dog barked somewhere and soldiers gave harsh orders. Tilting his gaze further it proved to be castle guardsmen. More sentries arriving. Already he'd be bracing himself for one of those cheery conversations, knowing full well. He'd been black balled from entering the castle by some nobleman, who called himself Otto. The curtain slipped back as he waited to hear the Alehouse doors open. ::

The carriage delivered her before the door as usual. A stop on the way home after toiling the day and night away within the castle library. Heavy cloak of ermine drawn about her as the door was approached. Opened for her to easily pass, then closed in the wake of her entry. Once within, kid gloved covered hands would rise to draw the hood from its rest upon crown. Pause as chestnut colored gaze would slowly drift over the common room. Noting the usual gathering of fellow Barristers, who'd glance her way, yet tonight they'd keep their tongue. That gained a satisfied smirk from herself
it would seem the message sent was well received. Moving through the crowd to gain way to the bar as gloves were slowly stripped of their hold upon slender digits. Once removed, within the depths of pockets would they be deposited. Reaching the bar, her usual fare to be ordered as the fasteners of the heavy cloak was worked free. Once chalice was placed before her, an exchange of coins prior to it's capture. Easing from the press of bodies about the bar, she'd now work her way through the crowded room. Her destination to be that usual spot she'd claim by the warmth of the fire's side.


What dead dreary day it had been that drove him to drink. Drink splendidly! With no falter or over exertion. He'd been properly served his bottle and large intricately carven wood mug. The thing sat neglected before his sight. His finger pressed hard to the thick wooden rim. Before him was the mug, dull, half twisted glasses, and to the side... The little black book, fairly close to his body and in full sight. Finally, the mug was brought up and he opened a full mouth to the burn of pleasantry. Eyes shifting ever-so-curiously to the side. After being a physician to the King and all his courtiers, one needed a drink to keep his patients. Literally.


:: Vocal cords started to vibrate as one boot caught the front of the chair seat across from him. Dragging it closer he'd start to sing a fairly distinctive song well known amongst the entertainer troupes which often travel Europe. He'd be improvising, adding some lyrical content in the places where he'd forgotten the words. His hand squeezing the mugs handle tighter as it would be lifted then swayed from left to right in some rhythmic pendulum pattern. Animosity cloaked beneath the warmth of a friendly tune. He could be an excellent actor when it was required. Truth be known as the castle guards continued to filter in, his sights had fallen upon the lady Carlotta. Drawing his breath he'd comment right in between lines. :: "Good.... evening... lady.... Carlotta. " :: Having remembered her name, for she had told him about some playwright. His attempts to meet the playwright were sadly thwarted. Downward came his mug sending some ale over its rim, he'd grunt with disappointment. ::

Upon first hearing her name sang out? She had thought it was Thomas back to his tricks again. Narrowed gaze would turn upon the other Barristers, to note it was they who were staring in another direction. Brows furrowed slightly as she'd turn to do the very same. Focus now rested upon the man who so openly proclaimed his greatness. Now brows rose in a manner of surprise as she took in his sodden state. Light chuckle and it was then she noticed the guard as they entered. Remembering his problem spoken of prior, she wondered what trouble he gained himself this time. Slowly she'd shift her path to direct her towards the man's table, reaching it's side to stand but a foot away to greet in return. "And ye as well, Milord Garan..." Pause as she took note of the table's mess, attention shifted back upon him. "Having a bit of trouble this night?" She was the King's Barrister, so if any were to approach, she would have a voice in a sense on his behalf. Depending on what the situation was. She'd not place her neck upon the chopping block for him, though would walk at his side if his offense would come to that.


:: Half rising from the butt of his chair, he'd move to fix the mess in order to offer the woman a place to settle. :: " A towel? " :: Shouted out. It would turn several heads in their direction but no matter to him. Busily he'd round the side of the table in order to pull out a chair for the woman. :: " Here try this side, it's got less turmoil associated with it. " :: Quiet dignity imbued the simple statement with honest sincerity. His lips would crack slightly as that flagon of wine sitting dead center of his table, along side a melting candle nearly fell over when his sword knocked in against the table's edge. Briefly he'd glance towards those men settling themselves a good 30 feet away from the fire spot, his hand instantly snaked out capturing the bottle by its lean neck. :: " We really don't want to create too much of a mess now do we? "


Chalice to settle upon the table, then shrugging out of the confinements of ermine wrap. This would be draped over the chair before she'd move to set claim by being seated. "My thanks." Offered in returned sincerity. A glance back towards the room and meeting the gaze of the other Barristers, she'd offer them a smile; one that lacked humor or warmth. Turning attention back upon Gar after. "No, you really don't." Almost asking the man if he had a mouse in his pocket. Taking note of the guards again, then focus was upon her companion of the eve. "Want to let me in on what's going on here? I'm sure it's not a love affair you have with the King's Guards, to have them looking at you so." Her voice kept low, though the level of other voices didn't make that situation all to hard to do. Hands to capture that chalice between them as she settled comfortably with a slight forward lean.


" I’m rather shy about not liking men who instantly tag me as the underdog in their world. Such as the nobleman, Otto..." :: His free hand gestured in the air while he'd attempt to recall his full name. Giving up he'd figured she'd know or come to know who he was talking about. A tavern maid was leaning directly behind him swirling a dry cloth over his spillage then fastly disappeared. This allowed him to move himself back to the opposite side of their table lowering the flagon of wine. Sitting back down he'd stretch comfortably back against his chair. :: " I'd like to meet the playwright you spoke of...can you find a way to arrange it? "

No, she had no clue of the man he spoke of, but she'd be sure to find out. A pleasant smile offered to the tavern wench before she moved away and left them to their own. "I don't see why not. He seems a likable man. I do know he loves his art, so I'm sure the two of you would get along..." Bit of a grin. "...you are the Great Garan and all." Yes, she was teasing him a bit. Amused glint in soft brown eyes to momentarily appear. Chalice now lifted to take a slow sip before it'd lower again. "I'll speak to him when next our paths cross, unless the two of you happen to be in the same place, at the same time. Then it would be a manner of a simple introduction."

:: He'd shrug slightly, :: " True.. Great once upon a time anyway. " :: His features worked up a grin before his mouth and chin vanished behind the opening of his mug. :: " I have heard a rumor that there is some sort of masque coming up, a ball of some kind? I 'd thought that might be a good place to make a formal introduction, one where the Count Otto can't derail. I think if the man continues with his attitude towards my station I might be tempted to challenge him. I find pompous asses sometimes need their back ends whipped clean. It reminds us when we are chastised that all men in the sight of God is considered .. equal. "

:The French were as beautiful as they were deadly and Salem was no exception. Raven curls were pushed away by the tender pads of clothed digits for the wind saw fit to sway them. Slender frame was draped with a woolen cloak, nothing fancy which was quite odd for the Pirate. Of course, it was what was beneath the warm shroud that catered more to the vibrant side of the man. Up the steps of the inn he went, lush lips expelling smoke as blackened lungs released their constricted hold. Fingers tore the pipe away as darkened eyes lowered to inspect what remained smoldering within the belly of the wide bowl.: "Mon Dieu...." :He hissed slightly as the contents were nearly gone. It would seem another trip to Singapore was needed. He slunk inwards with what grace lean legs could offer him. A tunic embroidered with gold and odd swirling patterns adorned his torso. Doeskin pants kissed tightly to his thighs, and created curves most women envied.: " Ah Bonjour Ma Cher..." : And index was wiggled towards Carlotta:

She nearly grimaced when he brought up the Masque that had been announced. Slight nod of her head. "Yes, so I have heard." Many times over, her mother flitting about it, and being adamant about her making a showing. "Yes, perhaps it could be arranged. I'll see what I can do for you on that." A polite smile offered the man, another sip of the mulled wine taken. Hearing his comment about the Noble, she had to softly chuckle and slowly shake her head. "You'll find that's the train of thinking for many, Milord. You can't change all their minds by challenging them to a duel." The man would be constantly dodging another's blade if so. Hearing the purring of French dialect, attention would shift to befall upon Salem. The best cook she'd ever met, especially for the ship he worked upon, although now she had the pleasure of his services within her family home; much to her father's chargin. The man avoided the Frenchman like a plague, except at dinner time, it was there her family revered him. "Good evening Salem, I see you decided to venture out." An amused glint within those chestnut hues. She wondered if all here were ready for the Frenchman, he was a one of a kind. "Come join us." Indicated the table where she rested. "I'd like you to meet the Great Garan, entertainer extraordinaire." Glance then towards Garan, she couldn't help but grin, ready to watch his reaction to the Frenchman. "Garan, this is Salem. A dear friend and one of the best chefs in the entire world."

:: His lips parted slightly then curved in a derisive smile. She was right he couldn’t challenge every man, just those who tried to keep him from getting the work he needed. Being involved inside the castle would indeed further his Greatness as well as a few other things the mysterious entertainer had in mind to accomplish. Once more the flat sole of a well worn boot pressed against the narrow bottom of a chair shoving it outward for the fancy Frenchman to drop ass upon. :: " The ...best chef in the entire world... Is it possible to prove that? " :: After all, Carlotta had not heard of Garan, and challenged his "greatness." His hand lifted an empty table basket, :: " One day perhaps Salem, would you be willing to fill this basket with one of your finest meals and serve it say.... to a champion? Or a fool... ? In order to prove your greatness? "

:There was lower of lids as long lashes brushed against the bottom half of his eye sockets when he peered at the unknown man. A brow rose and arched at the top of his forehead as the chair came scuttling his way, and then of course the challenge pressed upon him. Lips pursed as a long billow of smoke fluttered away from curve of his mouth.: "Monsieur....Moiz food can 'ow do jou zay. Mimic a womanz bodah, giving jou a deeper pleasha an' a bettah aftah. taste." :His nose wrinkled slightly as he lowered himself down into the chairs wooden embrace.: " Mm, Ma Cher jou are too Kind. Jou feed Moi too manah complimentz, jou make it 'ard for Moi to keep down ze ego...." : He purred gently then rose and angled his chin upwards.: " I'll zee wut Moi can do, Mon Ami. By ze way.. I am Salem De La Court...Or Frenchy if jou prefer...." Loose leaves of parchment were stacked upon one another and bound with a blue silk hair ribbon. Beneath the folds of billowing cloak, they were hugged to her chest as she hurried through the shadows. A broad smile was upon her lips and her eyes sparkled with excitement. This time, when she approached the alehouse, she opened the door without a moment's hesitation as she had before. A glance around the room with one face in particular that she hoped to see Carlotta. She was surprised to see the entertainer there as well, and the smile brightened. "Good evening!" **

:: He'd look across the table to Carlotta busting out into deep laughter . Standing then with a bow of his head to the Barrister, to stagger out of the alehouse.

She'd Watch as Garan left the alehouse in a fit of laughter. Though he left not alone, those guards who sat in wait did follow after. Attention then turned upon Mary and she'd offer a cheery smile. "Good evening Mary, come join us." Indicating the table she and the Frenchman now had to themselves. Poor Mary, she was about to get a dose of Salem and all his glory. She adored the man, as did many of the crew they sailed with; even at times many wished to slit his throat. They'd not cut off the hand that fed them, he had them by the .... well, you know.


"Hmm...Mutz non like women.." : That finely crafted brow remained arched, though lowered at the presence of another. Slender digits couldn't help but in turn give the woman with the parchments a little pinky wiggle. A few raven curls fell once more into those darkened hues and he couldn't help but mutter softly in French. The lower portion of his lip curled upwards as he expelled air from his lungs in hopes of swaying them.: "Mon Dieu. Ah Bonjour Ma Cher..." :He turned his gaze back to Carlotta and smiled, flashing all though lovely pearls.: " I t'ink jour familah iz warmin' up to Moi., zou I t'ink I need to make zumptin' zat will reallah butter jour Papa up. Would wearin' a drezz ‘elp?" : This was said jokingly....or was it?:

Mary paused and sobered a bit as she watched the Entertainer quickly take his leave with the guards behind him. Her brows furrowed and she shook her head. Bullies! She slowly crossed to the table where the pair sat and she bobbed a small curtsy to the man. "Bon jour, Monsieur. I do hope that you are enjoying your evening." The pile of papers were clutched tighter to her chest even as one hand snuck out to untie the cloak and let it fall from her
shoulders, draping over one arm. "Miss Carlotta, good evening to you." **

Salem's words had her tittering behind a lifted hand, which pressed to her lips to quell that want to bark out laughter. Eyes alight with amusement as they befell upon the man, hand lowered to enable unmuffled speech. "If you did that my delectable friend, those posh comforts I gained you at the Plantation would cease to exist, and you'd find yourself back upon that bunk in the galley." Couldn't curtail the laughter in her tone, just the idea of it all, for she could actually envision Salem all dolled up and serving her father his roasted duck. It was all she could do not the giggle at that, and her smiling features would now shift to Mary. "Good evening to you as well Milady. It's good to see you again." She'd then introduce Mary to the perky Frenchman. "Mary, this is Salem." Names offered between the two, she'd allow them the further formalities of introduction. "Is that more of your writings you have with you?" Curious now, and eager. If anything was like the story she shared with her the night prior, it would be a delight to be able to read them.

"Ah, Oui Ma Petite ze evenin' iz fine! " :Slender digits encased in doeskin were offered outwards to her. He curled his hand around hers and arched her palm downwards. Lips which were now free from the Pipe's hold, pursed as they kissed her knuckles. : " It iz a pleasha..." : He pulled away and looked back towards Carlotta. “Zen ze idea iz scrapped. Zou I non t'ink any o' jour drezzez are Moi'z style..." :Dark hues were swallowed up by a sea of lashes as a wink was offered her way. :

As he deposited the kiss gently to the back of her hand, she dipped a small curtsy once more. "My Lord, likewise. and I suppose if you truly wished, a tailor could make a gown for you..." She smiled and then looked towards Carlotta. With bright eyes and an equally eager smile, she proudly presented with childlike joy her works. "It is. I hope they are to your
liking, although they are a bit different than the first..." **

This time that laugh would not be held at bay. Soft was it's utterance as she listened to the two. Peeking over at Salem. "No, I don't think the bodices would fit you.... well, they might if we used something to stuff them!" More amusement found. Surely not the topic of conversation two ladies should be partaking of, but when Carly got around those she considered a family of sorts; she tended to befall into old habits. One day their story may be told, but then again, if so, the gallows would be the end for them all; so it might not. "I look forward to reading them, Mary." A glance back to Salem. "Mary writes books, wonderfully so." Mary would gain the warmth of her smile, which easily reached those chestnut hues. "Have you a chance to meet the Playwright yet?"

" Ma Cher, zat iz wondafah. Jou will 'ave to read zem teh Moi zum day. Readin' in anah language wuz nevah Moiz ztrong point." : Salem could barely read French let alone English, but d**n it he could still look pretty while he pretended!: " Oh! Ma Petite, 'ow 'bout we, ztrike a deal.
Fer everah ztorah, jou'll get a cooked meal from Moi.?" :If it was one thing he knew how to do was cook, and Carlotta could vouch for him!:


The young woman's cheeks blushed fiercely and she dipped her head at the compliment. "No, not yet. I would like to, but I have only met you and Mister Garan...." She looked over her shoulder towards the door
through which the Entertainer disappeared. Glancing back to the Frenchman, she nodded. "We have a bargain, Monsieur. I shall allow you to choose the day for us. Is that fair?" She paused and lowered herself slowly into a chair. "I shall tell you now, Miss Carlotta exaggerates." She shot a teasing grin over at the Barrister. **

All she could do was smile as she listened to her friend, and one is newly made. A light laugh hearing Mary. "Exaggerate? Me? ..." Softly chuckles and shakes her head. "I of all people spend a lot of time with the written word, Milady. I know a good writer when I see one, and you have a gift." Hand motioning towards the Frenchman. "...just as you'll soon learn his. He'll make you weep with is cuisine. I'm privileged to call him friend and his choosing to take position upon my father's plantation as head chef." A wink directed towards Salem. Slowly she'd rise, collecting her cloak. "If you two will excuse me, I need to tend to some studies before I find my bed tonight." Leaning she'd place a kiss on Salem's cheek then move close to his ear to whisper. "You behave." Teasingly stated, nuzzle to his cheek playfully. Leaning back to offer Mary a smile. "Now you have to come visit our home. We can all sit in the parlor and enjoy tea after a fine meal, while you read your stories to us, yes?" She found that to be the most pleasant thought. Friends, old and new, gathering together to enjoy a peaceful and joyful evening entertaining each other. A good way to forget about the dark clouds that hung over all their heads. Leaning to offer Mary a light hug, and chaste kiss to her cheek. "I leave you in good hands. I have no doubt you'll come to adore Salem as much as I." Saying this so Salem could hear; not that he didn't already know how much she adored him. Best girlfriend she's ever had! A warm smile offered to both. "Stiff wind in your sails and a pleasant evening I bid you both." Cloak slipped on, as well as her gloves. She'd make way for the door and out to await that carriage that would take her home.

She smiled and returned to gentle embrace and she kissed the side of her face briefly. "Indeed; I do look forward to such a pleasant evening... with both of you." **

:Dark eyes seemed to twinkle at the turn of the conversation. The Frenchman slowly rose after the affection was blessed upon him.: " Moi fearz, I muzt be off az well. Zere iz zum, mattahs zat aquire Moiz expertise..." : Yes there was a brow wiggle offered. And with that his cloak was gathered and he headed out.:

She chuckled and, since seeing the Barrister was the sole reason for her appearance, she too wrapped herself up and hurried out into the night.

[Carlotta]

Winter's bite was something that affected all things living,
and had so many making choices in which manner to seek how to combat against
it. The hearth always offered warmth and comfort, much like that of a large
quilt or heavy fur to encompass one's form. Thus would be the reasoning behind
tonight's choice, like so many passed and those still to come. The hearths
side would be where she had settled, upon what comforts the seating there-by
had to offer. Heavy weight of velvet encompassed that small stature with
it's emerald and golden hues. Ebon mane drawn back to coil into a tight bun
at skull's base, captured in a netting of gold, small jewelry settings of
emerald stones decored criss-crossed junctions, capturing the dim light with their reflective nature. Steaming mug of tea was grasped between those long,
slender digits, its base to rest atop of lap. For the moment, the warmth
which ebbed through the ceramic shell was being absorbed by hands, permitting the liquid to cool to the point of being comfortably sipped. Occasional drifts
of chestnut hues as the activies of other patrons were glanced upon, or
studied if interest was captured. This night was one in which comfort and relaxation was being sought, and here it was to be found. Away from the Plantation and all the activies of the holidays taking place there, and the castle where much the same was undergoing. A place like this permits one to forget their troubles, to escape one's duties and responsibilities. Shamelessly she used it for just that very purpose.


Eolus had been writing. He did not like the holidays too much,
as a rule, because his troupe became even lazier and more cantankerous than
usual, and moreover were drunker and fatter than usual, and all over the
birth of Christ. Not for the first time, Eolus felt a pang of ingratitude toward the one true faith. It was only a pang. He needed to write, anyway, and he had
written. The play was a work of comedy - people did not tolerate tragedy well
in the thick of winter - about a rather foolish noble whom, upon being declared
useless by all his advisors, had taken desperate steps and summoned a Greek
muse, hoping to be inspired to wisdom. Of course, the muse was only inclined
to inspire art, not acts of politics. Naturally, a love affair followed - he
was still tinkering with that bit. There was a fine line between titillation
and censorship and King Henry might be a little touchy about the subject of
a wild and unrestrained affair. Anyway, the land fell apart around them.
Only one advisor - a fat eunuch, who wore (Eolus had written in and
underlined) a yellow tunic which was to stretch over his stomach. In the end,
the muse's poetry inspired a sensible woman to love him and take over his
affairs. The Eunuch had been exiled, at the Lady's first orders, and the muse
had sadly departed, with a lovely ending poem. Eolus had just finished the
rough script of it, and so he still was rather dreamy-eyed as he wandered into the King's Alehouse. His fingers of his right hand still curled and stretched and moved absently, as if he were writing yet. For all this, he was aware enough
of his surroundings that he pushed the door aside before strolling in,
and then paused, blinking absently, as the warm air thawed his face.

Otto Kessler cast an almost bored glance around his
surroundings. The Count was exhausted, his efforts in lobbying for Queen
Catherine hardly seemed to give the King pause. Not even the veiled threat of
war seemed enough to dissuade Henry. His only saving grace was that the Cardinals plea for an annulment for the marriage had been rejected again and again. As long as the Emperor held Rome, the Vatican was a tool the Empire could exploit. ''Wench!'' He barked a serving girl scrambled over to fill his goblet. If he couldn't stop the King politically, then Otto had underhanded ways he could use to embarrass the King's current lover Anne Boleyn. Murder was out of the question at least for now. He'd have to think of something. Otto stared down
into the seemingly endless red crimson colored depths that filled his goblet.
Now was not the time for plotting or sulking, now was the time for drinking.
He needed to relax in a big way. Drinking was one way to relieve the tension.

It would be the bark of a peathingy that gained her attention
for a moment. Using the rise of that cup to sip from as chestnuts peered over
it's brim in the one's direction. If only she knew, that one of her greatest
oppositions were under the same roof. But, she didn't, and her attention upon
him was only one of a curious nature. A sip taken of the tea, it would slowly
lower and that's when Eolus was espied. She'd wait until his gaze would drift
in her direction, and only then would a hand rise to offer a greeting wave and indicate the empty chairs about the table to which she laid claim. Cup to lower, resettling atop her lap with hands still wrapped about the warmth of outer shell. A scuffle between two longshoremen would gain a
glance in that direction next. A game of dice that had one gloating and the
other making accusations of being cheated. Watching long enough to be content
the skirmish wouldn't drift in her direction, and then attention would drift. Though peripheral would keep that wary watch in case things took a turn for the
worse.

Eolus sighed at the warmth. It interrupted the clarity of his
thoughts, made him feel vaguely and contented, an effect which he resisted by
shrugging out of his heavy cloak and glancing purposefully around the
commons. Thus, he noticed Carlotta's look and invitation soon enough. He
quirked a smile at her, waylaid a wench for a mug of warmed mead, and
wandered in the indicated direction. He took note of a few other faces. Otto
he'd seen before, he thought. Where...? Ah yes. He'd been the one that pulled that lady to her feet after her fall. Now he looked bored and tired. Eolus stopped short of a sympathetic smile at this, since such an action would be well out of step with his lack of rank, and turned his attention instead to the lady
who'd summoned him. He inclined his head to her, hung his cloak over the back
of a chair, and dropped to a seat. "Good evening," he said cheerfully.
"You're all a-glitter tonight." He indicated her emeralds.


The songbird was somewhere behind her brother, who had done a
splay of crooked elbows to part the men at the door. "C'mon, Constance!"
The was a hum of indecipherable words from behind him before she advanced
forward enough to knock her toes with his heels. "You stopped," she crooned and
settled a hand on the narrow plane of his shoulder. He led her through the
crowd careful to avoid a stray of eyes at any of the women rushing around to
and fro. Last time it had ended in a rather unflattering fall for the both of
them. "Just find somewhere to sit, Michael." Melodic roll of her words,
licked with ancient riddles. The wisdom beyond her years was spider webbed in
her eyes and woven through her voice, though rarely did people take the time to
notice. "Stay away from whoever his fighting. I would be quite the mess if
I could not see nor walk." Her smile flared up, but was knocked down a touch
when they came to a halt. Her brother, of course, had been under strict
instruction from her father: stay away from the son of a pregnant dog German. So
Michael stood, staring the Count down and ignoring Constance's inquiries.
-d-

Otto grimaced, the distraction of the longshoreman stirred
irritation in his heart. It was only a matter of time before fists flew and
furniture was breaking followed by the snap of brittle bones. It reminded him
of the glory of battle that he would never experience again. A glare was
directed towards his crippled leg as he eagerly watched the first punch land
sending the second man reeling. The bouncer was quick to put out the fire
before it turned into an inferno. Both men were tossed outside and into the mud
followed by the raucous cheers of the taverns occupants. Poor Michael, it was
too bad that his sister was not blind and deaf. '' Constance!'' His voice
cutting through the chatter of the tavern like a hot knife through butter. Otto
had been used to commanding troops in the thick of battle where a booming
voice was important for issuing orders. '' Over here!'' He said making a
motion of his arm towards the empty seat at his table. Those twin pools locking eyes with Michael. The Count entering a stare down contest with the little boy.

"Dinner party in which the Head Chancellor was guest of
honor." Offered in explanation for her fancy state of dress. She'd omit her
accusation of her father doing a little ass kissing with the formal affair
given in the man's honor. A glance to his hands and a brow rose. "You've been
writing." Not an inquire, but a statement upon notation of the tell tale signs.
Ink stains upon fingers were a dead give away, she should know. Curious gaze
lifted to meet his. "Care to share?" She was quite serious about her interest in what he wrote. The written word was a great companion to the Barrister. The wisdom it offered, as well as a tool utilized to relax and escape the world about her. Not one prone to fantasies, she was not naive to the ways of the world. In fact, if she would take the time to put quill to parchment, a book she could indeed write of her own adventures which she survived. She knew he was in the process of working up a play, it being the topic of their last
conversation shared. A comedy if she remembered rightly.

"Oh, hm--" He looked at his right hand, which was indeed ink
stained. His left hand was likewise marked, for he did not entirely pay
attention to his hands. "Yes, well, New Year's is a good time for the launch
of a new play. Something for people to enjoy once the mid-winter fun has died
down a bit," he murmured, still sounding faintly preoccupied. The wench
dropped by to hand him a steaming mug of cider, and he paid her, and, looking
into the steam, came back to himself a bit more and quirked a brow at
Carlotta's question. She was a curious woman. He really did not understand
the business of reading plays. Who did that? Her, apparently, but still.
People generally only wished to borrow the manuscript of the play if they wished to steal it. He eyed her briefly, wondering... It was unlikely. She hadn't even tried to be flattering or seductive. "Share what, precisely?" he asked eventually.