"A Bit of Empyrean Blood" Log Date: 6/20/00 Log Cast: Melissa, Domina Milanus (NPC emitted by Melissa), David, Jerrod, Sarra, Madelyne, Xerise Log Intro: It's been barely a week since his arrival in the big city of Haven, and the young Mongrel David has been fortunate indeed in the acquaintances he's made upon setting foot within Haven's gates. Recognizing instantly that he is possessed of a naivete that's liable to get him into real trouble real fast if he falls in with an unscrupulous crowd, the Empyrean Sebastienne has taken him--at least figuratively, since her wings aren't exactly in reputable shape--under her wing, and gotten him a humble but honest job waiting tables at the Pantheon in the city's Empyrean quarter. So far it's been a sound enough job, though David's already learned one thing: the Empyreans of Haven, despite the notable exception of Sebastienne, are generally prone to give the likes of him a hard time. Even when otherwise occupied at dining with their friends. Because for some of the Children of Air, a bit of Empyrean blood in a Mongrel's veins is bound to get their notice.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Night (Duskside) Date on Aether: Saturday, August 29, 3906. Year on Earth: 1506 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent Season: Summer Weather: Clear Skies Temperature: Hot *==========================================================================* Melissa enters the tavern, and the carved door shuts behind her. Melissa has arrived. The Pantheon - Haven(#350RDJM$) Bright frescoes decorate the walls of this large, pentagonal room, depicting the rise of the city of Haven with Delphi at its heart. The domed ceiling is supported by four marble "atlantes"--statues carved to resemble youths from each race. The figures are expertly rendered and painted, if somewhat stylized, and they hint that this establishment caters to clientele from each. A long, marble-topped bar runs along the last wall where refreshment may be ordered. The air is laden with the smell of richly prepared foods and ambrosia, suiting the exclusive nature of the tavern. Rose marble tiles decorate the floor, which sinks toward the center of the room in a series of three pentagonal terraces. Situated at the two higher terraces are fine tables of polished oak--those on the outermost terrace long enough to seat larger parties. The lowest terrace features a shallow pool, lined with greenery and replenished by small fountains. (See 'places'). Contents: Melissa Obvious Exits: Arch Out Melissa enters the dining establishment with a slightly older blonde Empyrean woman, that one's hair a silver-frosted pale blonde in comparison to Melissa's red, and her eyes a clear slate grey. While Melissa wears ivory linen and simple jewelry, the heavy silks of the older woman indicate that she may be aristocracy or an Aegian's wife. The two women murmur politely to one another and look around calculatingly at the available seating. David Just another Mongrel, from the look of him -- but this one at least is easy on the eyes, as Mongrels go. He's young, seemingly fit enough, and not _too_ scruffy of appearance; his features, while not necessarily refined of line, are pleasingly symmetrical. Short but unevenly cut black hair stands out in striking contrast with his sunbrowned skin and big sky-blue eyes, of a shade that suggests he's got an Empyrean or two somewhere back in his ancestry. He's tall, his frame rangy and lean, though his awkward carriage suggests shyness, post-adolescent clumsiness, or both. So does his voice, since he appears to have a habit of stammering his words -- but still, something about the clarion young baritone falls quite pleasingly upon the ear. He fidgets a lot, too, seemingly unconsciously, often rhythmically tapping his foot or hand upon whatever's handy. He's humbly but decently clad as one might expect of a Mongrel -- especially one who's managed to score a position working in a fairly classy establishment like the Pantheon. His simple blue linen shirt, brown breeches, and brown boots are all a working man's clothes, clean and in good condition; the shirt is of a vivid enough blue, too, that it nicely sets off his eyes. Melissa She is a slim Empyrean woman, perhaps a bit tall for her race at 5'6. Her shimmering copper hair has been coiled neatly atop her head and secured in place by pins adorned with pale freshwater pearls. Her face is a classic oval, but her nose is long and thin. The tip of that nose, as well as the soft rounds of her cheeks, flush a faint, freckled rosy bronze, hinting at recent long days spent out-of-doors. Her eyes, framed by the fine lines of a woman well into her thirties, a woman who's squinted long into the sun and wind but has lovingly applied smoothing creams every night, glow a pale, searching green beneath auburn eyebrows. Small dangling earrings of rosegold filigree, set with creamy baroque pearls, dangle from her ears. She's dressed in a traditional chiton of smooth ivory linen that accentuates the delicate white-blonde hue of her wings and the lightly-tanned skin of her arms and shoulders. The garment's careful pleats fall gracefully and modestly to her ankles. On her narrow feet are simple but well-shined sandals of brown leather. The Pantheon is decently filled at this hour, and the servers in its employ are being kept busy. One such is a harried-looking young fellow with black hair who's been set to ferrying platters back and forth from table to table rather than do kitchen work tonight, at least for the time being. David glances up as the two newest Empyreans to set foot in the place come in the front door -- and for a moment, his eyes, wide and blue and skittish, might be glimpsed under the shock of hair that falls across his brow. Tyche... he's probably going to have to go and take orders from the dominas, isn't he? Here's hoping they'll give him a chance to get this platter of bread over to its intended party. He scurries along with the hot loaf of bread and its accompanying olive oil to the little knot of young noblemen chattering across the way, before turning to the two newest customers. Taking a patient breath, Melissa has smiled and nodded a pleasant greeting to a few various acquaintances gorging themselves on the restaurant's warm bread--will they still have room for dinner?-- and has wandered briefly toward the nearest wall to examine the frescoes. Her pale-tressed companion regards the blue-eyed mongrel boy languidly and drawls, "Do sit us at one of *your* tables, darling," in a voice that thrums huskily with years of ambrosia and perhaps other spirits. "Domina Chryseis," she calls. Melissa turns, after leaning in briefly to curiously touch an illusionistic detail in the fresco. She smiles vaguely at the mongrel server and gestures toward a table..."That one looks splendid. Bread please, and a flask of ambrosia to start..." "Yes, Dom'na," David mumbles, before remembering belatedly that he's been ordered to not mumble his words. A little more loudly he repeats, while bobbing his dark head, "Y-yes, Dom'na, raht away, Dom'na..." Hrmm. Thick accent this one has, marking him as coming from somewhere a great distance away from Haven. He pauses just long enough to pull out chairs upon which Melissa and her companion might place themselves, then gives a little bow and turns to hasten off to fetch what they've ordered. Both women slide gracefully into their chairs, smoothing their chitons with almost identical gestures. "A bit of Empyrean blood in that one, I'll wager," announces the blonde rather indiscreetly. "Reminds me ever-so-vaguely of your Nestor, my dear." Melissa frowns at that last comment, and focuses on unfolding a linen napkin and placing it on her lap. "Mmmh?" is all she says. "Well," announces the blonde. "That dark hair, and those pale blue eyes. That tall, lanky frame. Like a colt." She pauses, reaching across the table as if she's suddenly realized she might have been rude. "That's not to say, my dear, that I thought Nestor might not be purebred. And he wore his height quite well." The woman shuts up for a moment, and peers around the room to see which other parties she knows might be present. See and be seen, at the Pantheon. Melissa has by that time pasted a small, polite smile on her face. "Indeed, he was handsome. I always guessed that you would agree, Domina Milanus." That last bit said quite softly. The coltish, lanky young fellow with the dark hair and blue eyes is soon back with the requested bread and ambrosia, setting it before the two winged woman and once more bobbing his head deferentially to them. "Here y'all go, dom'nas," he blurts earnestly, his accent blurring his words together, but failing to conceal a certain resonance in the youthful baritone. "C'n Ah git y'all anythin' else...?" Jerrod enters the tavern, and the carved door shuts behind him. Jerrod has arrived. Melissa doesn't reach for the bread immediately, but with alacrity pours some of the fruity alcohol for herself and Domina Milanus. Ms. Milanus twists a lock of frosty hair idly, coyly about one diamond-ringed finger. "Can you get us anything else...let's see. What're the dinner specials, darlin'?" Her own throaty voice begins to mimic the mongrel lad's accented speech--perhaps not meant to wound, but to amuse herself. Melissa's lips clamp together briefly, but she takes a sip of her ambrosia and waits to hear what the server has to say. What, they actually want him to talk _more_? If there's anything David's managed to learn in the week or so he's been in this city so far, it's that the Empyreans here don't seem any less likely than the Empyreans back home to give a simple Mongrel man a hard time -- and he's already noticed how his country accent appears to be going over with these city folk. He can try not to mumble, but he can't do much about the blush, and so even though he attempts to stand up straight and speak plainly, David's still rather noticeably pink beneath his tan. "Yes'm... well, uh, we got some poached salmon" -- this comes out of him 'sammin' -- "an' a good thick stew... th' meat's fresh an' all, a-an th' bread's fresh, jes' baked up this mornin'...!" Okay, boy, try not to scuff your foot in front of the customers. Got it? Good. Sarra enters the tavern, and the carved door shuts behind her. Sarra has arrived. Melissa hides her expression in her ambrosia goblet for several moments, then tipping it away, decides quickly..."Tha salmon for me." She looks the embarassed mongrel lad over curiously...yes, a bit like Nestor, though dangerous to admit such a thing among Empyreans. Domina Milanus seems rather entranced by the lad's speech, actually. "The...sammin...for me to. Where *are* you from, darling? I don't think we've seen you around here before. You remind me of her past husband. I'd have remembered you." She gestures vaguely back toward Melissa. Ah, the lack of tact! Or perhaps, the catty efforts between females! "Victoire!" hisses Melissa angrily, dropping her companion's formal title now. Uh oh. David shoots the Domina Milanus a look not entirely unlike that a lamb might give to a hungry wolf lingering around the sheep pen, starting to wonder inwardly if this particular domina is going to start trying to pull the same thing on him that the Domina Kyllene did and if so if he's just going to have to what he did then and oh Tyche he hopes not 'cause he'd hate to lose a job this fast and -- oh right. They've ordered. Another bob of that black head; David's got his hair tied neatly back, letting the ends of it just brush the very bottom of his neck, but this is not stopping those errant strands in front from falling across his forehead, to be sure. They bob up and down as he nods sheepishly, saying, "Sammin f'r th' both o' ya, yes, Dom'na... Ah-Ah'm from Bremany" -- or, at least as rendered in his accent, 'Brem'ny' -- "w-why don't Ah-Ah go tell 'em what t' make up f'r y'all....?" Sarra's tavern-hopping. She's hit the Gem Inn, and probably the Siren's Song, which leaves the Pantheon. And here she is. In all her clumsy-mongrel...Non-glory. She half-falls through the door, which slams behind her. Ooh. Interesting. We must get food. She wanders towards a table without really looking to see who else is /there/. Table. There's a table. She heads towards table and sits at it. Then she stands again. Indecisive. Woo. Ooh. She hears a familiar-sounding voice. She looks around. Yeah, she knows that guy. And he's with Empyreans. Sarra blinks in confusion and tugs at her hair, puzzling this out. Madelyne enters the tavern, and the carved door shuts behind her. Madelyne has arrived. Xerise enters the tavern, and the carved door shuts behind her. Xerise has arrived. Melissa murmurs, through gritted teeth, "Yes, put in the order." She doesn't look at the mongrel any longer, simply gazes across the table at her frosty-haired companion, her eyes narrowed to resemble chips of peridot above slightly flushed cheeks. But Domina Milanus doesn't seem about to give up so easily..."Come back soon, darling. And another flask of ambrosia, too." She smiles faintly at the lad, lids slightly lowered. Well, they say some Empyreans have...interesting tastes. "Yes, dom'na, raht away..." David shoots the Domina Milanus another skittish look and hastens off to fetch the second flask of ambrosia she's requested, still blushing a bit as he does. _Oh please Tyche touch me with your right hand 'cause I sure as shootin' can't lose this job can't get chewed out two nights in a row oh lares..._ The boy _does_ look nervous, doesn't he? He makes it across the room to get the ambrosia, though, and he calls the order back into the kitchen -- softly enough that those eating are not disturbed, but still, those drawled baritone syllables carry rather well. Sarra spots a chance to make an annoyance of herself, perhaps. Or maybe she's just bored. And curious. Because she *was* watching that scene, and it was increasingly interesting. She rather quietly hurries across the room towards David, calling out, "Uhm...'xcuse me?" She looks cautiously to the Empyreans. Oh, great. Streetrat mongrel wandering around the nice tavern calling to the servant boys. That's what we need today. Except that we don't. Quietly, and hopefully unnoticably, a shy and reclusive Empyrean sneaks into the tavern and makes her way to a table, hoping to get lost. GODS she doesn't want another scene like yeasterday. To prevent that, she has carefully packed her beloved harp away. Xerise pulls at the outer portion of her eyes for a moment as she blinks and tries to clear away the fog. What time /is/ it, anyway? Shaking her head a little, she hovers by the entranceway, glancing into the room. Sarra That lovely thing known as Time should really have worked harder on this one. Sarra doesn't look much different than she did when she was fifteen. There are a few differences, but the mongrel still looks like a kid at first glance. She's short--not delicate short. Just shrimpy. An inch or so above five feet, and that's with shoes on. She has gained a bit of weight since she arrived, so she doesn't look like a starving waif, but she's still pretty scrawny, and she isn't exactly spilling out of her oversized wool shirt here...her figure is rather...well...Let's not say invisible. Diminutive. That works. Anyhow. Elegant? Um, no. Maybe compared to a stranded fish. On a good day. She has arms and legs that are too long for her body, and she's probably not going to do any more growing. Her narrow, oval face is contradictory, for although the features are not serious, the expression is almost grim. Her pointed, tiny chin and nose are pixielike, and her eyebrows (dark brown) quirk up slightly at the ends. The straight mouth is certainly serious, and visible marks on her lower lip hint to her habit of biting on it. Her eyes..round, owlish, and gray. Something different there...her squinting! Gone! Incredible. Not that this makes her much more graceful in appearance, but at least she'll probably break a few less things. Her skin isn't porcelain-perfect and wonderfully blemish-free, but she's gotten over the worst of adolescent facial trauma. Messy hair, darkish brown, tumbles across her face to her shoulders in loose curls and tangles. Melissa begins a rather heated, hissing conversation with the Domina Milanus. The conversation seems rather one-sided at first, admittedly. "You always...*always* wanted me to think you had managed to seduce Nestor back in our school days. I thought we came here tonight to heal over old wounds, but you're just out to humiliate me again. He's dead, Victoire. Dead. Have your fantasies turned to those who look like him, even mongrels?" Domina Milanus arches both dark golden eyebrows, and takes an exaggeratedly idle moment to sloooowly pour herself a generous portion of ambrosia from the first flask brought to the table. "Indeed...a very tragic loss. I wept quite a bit when I heard of it." The words are said with a note of insinuation. Old habits die hard, it seems. Melissa rises quickly from her seat, face pale now, freckles standing out starkly. With deliberation she folds her napkin and lays it back on the table. "Enjoy your dinner. Domina Milanus. I see the friend I promised to meet here." She leaves the table, and looks quickly about the tavern. Is that Xerise she recognizes? As he's handed off a second flask of ambrosia from the Mongrel lad just inside the kitchen door, David turns... and practically bumps into Sarra, just barely keeping himself from stumbling over her in his awkward passage. Towering over her as he does, with nearly a foot of height over the little Mongrel, the young man has to rear back a little to get a decent look at her. More loudly than he intends, he blurts, "Sarra? What're ya doin' heah--" Then he catches himself. Never mind that, he's got work to do. Must. Not. Lose. Job. Even if it means he has to go take this ambrosia over to the domina with the hungry eyes. And he does this hesitantly, holding up a hand to Sarra to ask her to wait for him... then blinking at Melissa's passage as she stalks by, leaving her companion alone. Alone is not exactly how David wants to find the woman, but he approaches her nevertheless, setting down the flask and tugging his forelock to her. "As y'ordahed, Dom'na..." Xerise spots someone /she/ recognizes, at any rate, and inclines her head to Melissa. "Ave, Domina." Slightly bleary eyes are turned back towards the room, and she makes her way towards a seat. The Domina Milanus sits dumbfounded for a moment--how dare she give her the cut direct like that?--but then smiles boldly up to David. "Mmh. Thank you, darling. Domina Chryseis is an old friend; we just happened to meet up here before her other appointment. SHe says to send her salmon to her wherever she sits, and to put mine on her tab." A faint upward curl to the corners of her rouged lips...was she flirting with the mongrel to irritate her acquaintance, or out of personal decadence as well? The latter, perhaps..."What did you do in your..Brem'ny? What brings you to Haven?" Melissa, meanwhile, seems almost relieved to see Xerise. She pauses a moment to see if the woman is alone or not, saying only, "Ave to you, Domina..." Not as if the business of the two winged women is any of _his_ business -- and David's awkward expression reflects this. The absence of the apparently more normal of the two women doesn't go over at all well either, and the young man shoots a nervous glance right and left. Customers, right? Surely somebody needs their order taken? And look, didn't the other domina go over to say hello to someone who just came in? "Ah-Ah-Ah didn't do nothin' too special, ma'am... l'il ol' farm town... Ah-Ah-Ah gotta go take that other dom'na's ordah, 'scuse me now..." And he points a lean finger (the hand of which, it might be noted, is aesthetically shaped, even if it _is_ the hand of a mere working Mongrel) off in the direction of Xerise. Xerise is, as is the usual, quite alone. Not even any servants. Probably a bad idea at night-time, but judging by her fingers, she's spent the entire day with the scrolls again and lost track of the time. It happens like that. A tilt of her head as she takes a closer look at the relieved woman. "Are you alright, Domina? You seem a bit flustered." A glance up as the Mongrel approaches, and Xerise gives him a tired smile. "Please tell me you have something stimulating and non-alcoholic. I truly need to wake up." Melissa smiles wryly, and waits while Xerise makes her non-alcoholic order. "A red wine now, please," she murmurs to the mongrel, not explaining anything herself. She's sure the waitstaff will figure out where to bring the food she's ordered and will remember to charge either her or the Milanus woman; it really matters not to her. "May I?" she asks Xerise, brushing a nearby chair lightly as if she'd like to sit down. "Simply...an old acquaintance; one of those you'd rather not see." Somehow, David's managed to get out of the way of that other domina before she could do something alarming like, oh, say, try to talk to him _more_. Despite the fact that he doesn't have any wings, he's somehow managed to hasten across the room to the other two Empyrean women, and so he bobs his head rather relievedly at Xerise. "Yes'm," he blurts, "Ah c'n git ya some kaffe iffin y'want... an' red wine f'r you, yes, Dom'na..." And then off he goes, to get these things -- and check on the status of the salmon. Xerise smiles gratefully. "That would be wonderful." She looks a bit blank at Melissa's comment about aquaintences you'd rather not see, but doesn't say anything back on that - instead, she gestures at the chair and says, "Please, Domina. Feel free to sit." Melissa does so, smoothly, murmuring, "Ah, thank you, Domina." She chuckles low. "Nothing alcoholic...but kaffe? I'm not sure which type of beverage is more dangerous when taken in excess." Xerise chuckles. "Considering this is my first cup in about a week, I doubt highly that I'm taking it to excess. It is simply if I have something alcholic, I will fall asleep in the middle of my scribing later on today. And that is not something I have the luxury of doing." Burning the candle at both ends, instead. Maybe Tyche's touched him with her right hand after all? David shows up a few moments later with wine for Melissa and kaffe for Xerise, standing just a _trifle_ awkwardly at the latter's elbow until she's ready to acknowledge him again. "Um... er, here y'all go, now, Dom'na... y'want Ah should bring y'somethin' t'eat, ma'am? We got fresh bread, baked up this mornin'..." Melissa smiles across to Xerise. "Kaffe is an acquired taste..and a rare one...among our race, but certainly not so rare among the scholars. Honestly, some enterprising merchant should set up a stall outside the Scriptorium. A long night then, Domina? Interesting discoveries?" she glances up as the server awaits Xerise's order, and taking her cup of wine from him, settles back--her shoulders much more relaxed with this tablemate than with her previous. Xerise considers this. Food. Eating. And, as her stomach reminds her, something she's not done lately, either. "Bread would be just fine, thank you," she tells the Mongrel, then nods to Melissa. "Frankly, if they did set up a Kaffe stall outside the Scriptorium, the lot of us scholars would just move in some cots and bedrolls and just /live/ there." A chuckle. "Not like we don't now. We just don't have quarters. And aye, it's been quite interesting. Been doing some preliminary research on possible project - although I am not at liberty to discuss it, at the moment." With another bob of his head, David's off again -- and at least in fairly short order, another loaf of that warm bread, along with the spiced olive oil, returns carried by the young Mongrel's strong lean hands. Along with it, he shows up with a platter upon which reposes Melissa's order of poached salmon, along with a bit of citrus with which to eat it and utensils as well. "Here y'all go, dom'nas..." Domina Milanus seems to feel rather abandoned at her table...is that salmon on its way yet? She rests her chin on one upturned hand, drumming buffed fingertips against one cheek, and rubbing one ankle idly with a sandaled toe under the table. The motion is almost sensuous....in a predatory way, like a spider rubbing her limbs together before a meal. She makes a moue with her lips as the blue-eyed mongrel passes by with Melissa's plate. Melissa murmurs her thanks to the server, then glances up to Xerise again with a near-grin. "Ah...secret research. Much of that occurring, with the upcoming Forum Annorum." She takes a bite of salmon, tilting her head. Not bad. "What do you do for entertainment, Domina? Certainly, scholarship is a pleasure...but what else?" One more plate he has to get, indeed -- and unfortunately, David can't really delay it, not if he wants to finish out his shift and get out unscathed by the Mongrel fellow in charge of the Pantheon's night shift of kitchen workers. David _can_ do one thing, though, and that's corner the boy who'd been passing him the food as he brought it out, whispering a hasty plea in the other Mongrel's ear -- to get _him_ to take the Domina Milanus her food. And that, at least for the night, is the last the customers out at their tables see of David, as he opts to take the _back_ way out, tonight...! [End log.]