(1866-06-02) Fashionably Late
Fashionably Late
Summary: The night after Court, three l'Fausts meet in a tavern in Rovilon
Date: 1866-06-02
Related: Takes place just prior to Jean-Paul's coronation and associated events.
Alaric  Edwina  Evelyn  

A Tavern, Rovilon
In scene set
6 Juin 1866

It's early evening, which is to say it's one of the busier times of day here in Rovilon. Commoners go about their business in the streets, the last few ships to pull into port are unloaded, and of course, the places is absolutely swarming with nobles and their retainers in view of the upcoming coronation.

In light of this, Lord Alaric l'Faust has made sure to be at one of his favorite haunts whenever he's here, a little tavern that's well off the beaten path. He's sent word ahead to his sister and cousin to meet him here… and, of course, because he wouldn't let a little thing like 'being a day late' make him the last to arrive, he's been here since half an hour before the appointed time, relaxing in his chair and sipping a drink.

Evelyn has, perhaps for her brother's sanity's sake, left Blaze at where they're staying at present, and in more relaxed leather armors, suggestive that she's been practicing a bit at one thing or another, she wanders into the bar and after a bit of looking manages to find Alaric. And, flashing her teeth in a big grin towards Alaric she heads over there. And, there's a deck of cards in her hand to boot. She slides into the seat across from Alaric, asking, "Let me guess. You had a large amount of coin to collect from someone before heading here?" She seems more or less amused. Then opines, "You missed the big news, though. It would seem Alina l'Saigner is not as dead as people thought she was."

"No, definitely not dead." Edwina follows, just a step or two behind Evelyn in a dress of modest cut in a muted heather gray. There's a brown leather belt fastened around her waist and her flaxen hair is loosely braided. In all, she looks as though she's spent the day in leisure, and as her gold-green eyes flash at viewing the cards, it looks as though she'd like to continue in that vein. "No, there's very much to life about her, I'd say." Something resembling a commiseratory look takes over before she sits herself, back rigid and hands clasped on the table, across from Alaric.

"I could tell you that my horse pulled up lame, Eve, and what would it matter?" Alaric flashes a little grin at his little sister before leaning back in his chair, stretching a bit. He's dressed pretty simply tonight, all in black, looking as though he's not more than an hour off the road. "You will believe your story. So believe it, I say." Sip. Eyebrows lift at the mention of the l'Saigner heir, and his attention drifts over to his cousin-by-marriage. "Interesting way to put that, cousin," he remarks, taking another sip. "She was especially lively? None the worse for wear?" The man does his best not to seem /overly/ interested. It might have worked with people who don't know him well - it's not likely to work with these two.

"Lively enough for herself, and another to boot," voices Evelyn. She shuffles the cards, expertly, between two hands. She catches Edwina's look, and flashes her cousin a similar grin to that which she shared with Alaric. She looks back to Alaric, "Quite swollen, and ready to burst at any time, I imagine." Then she orders herself an ale. "However, I do expect you to be at the Tourney this time, Alaric. I need someone to cheer me on, after all." She looks at Edwina, "And you, too, cousin."

She nods. "Of course. You know Carey wouldn't miss an event like that, especially when his blood is part of the competition." After addressing Evelyn first, Edwina sighs somewhat, looking pointedly to Alaric then and gauging if he's understood precisely what the womenfolk are on about. "I don't envy her, I will say," she adds gently, absently running a hand over her restracted, unoccupied midsection and looking the happier for it. "I wonder," she changes topics, looking rather curious now and eager at Evelyn, "if Carey will wish for Arthur to attend as well? He's nearly a man grown at this rate. I'd be surprised if he didn't come along."

It does, admittedly, take Alaric a few moments to understand what the women are talking about, but his sister's directness does come in handy at times. "/Very/ lively, then," he says, and the 'sip' he takes from his drink this time nearly drains the cup. "I wonder, is there any word as to how the Lady in question came to be in said condition? By whose hand, as it were?" Not that the man's hand had much to do with it, but we are in polite company. Anyway. "Yes, I suppose I ought to. Wouldn't be right for an l'Faust to ride in the joust without a fitting amount of support." He says the words, but his mind's clearly elsewhere.

"One can only presume Sir Gabriel," Evelyn relates to Alaric, thoughtfully. She remarks casually even as she begins to shuffle the cards again, "They are to be wed, afterall. This, however, will be some Tourney. And, I, for one, am relieved that all of this will be behind us soon enough after the coronation." She's then glancing over to Edwina, "Arthur is welcome to come watch, of course. And I fully expect Carey to be there, else I may have to thump him," she teases Edwina warmly. But then she sobers some, "I know who my competition in the mock battle shall be. But, not who I'll be taking on in the bare-knuckle fighting."

"Hand? Tsk," Edwina chides. "Are you so ignorant, Alaric, as to assume hands had such a part in it?" Yeah, she'll go there. Family, right? There's a certain degree of comfort to her posture and the lip-pursed look she gives the two l'Fausts with her then indicates that all she'll say on that for now…or will she? With the joke being over, she sits back in her chair somewhat, sizing up her younger male cousin. "Tourneys distract you so, Alaric?" Thumping draws her back to the here and now, however, and she reaches out a hand gently to be dealt in. "Thump away. Maybe it'll knock a better mood into my poor husband."

"I assume that many things had a part in it, Edwina. One needs to know how to use one's hands, mm?" Alaric fires back with a lopsided grin curling his lips. "But yes, one would hope that Sir Gabriel was… responsible, as it were. Makes matters entirely less complicated. Though I doubt the Silver Bull will entirely approve…" Shoulders roll in a shrug. "Good man, the Duke of Murnord. But I digress. You know I've only casual interest in the tourney /per se/." Pause. "But after the tourney, what then? We've had an unpleasant past year, and our neighbors to the south no less so. I say, who better to usher in peace than the l'Fausts, mmm?"

Evelyn flips a series of cards between the three, stating, "Loser buys," and seems to be pleased with that call. She tells Alaric however, "You really should have more an interest. It's a great way to make a decent profit, too, if you know how to bet." By her grin, she's both teasing, and quite serious. "But, yes. I've no doubt the peace, as long as it lasts, will usher in trade. And we ought to be the ones to bring it in. I've no doubt you'll be in the lead of that particular venture, Alaric." She deals a few more rounds, until each has five cards, then sets the deck into the middle of the table. "And there's more than a few interested people in our Warhounds after seeing Blaze during our campaign."

Right, money. Who doesn't need money? "You're on," Edwina agrees, accepting cards and ordering them in something resembling a pattern for her own eyes after fanning them out before her. "It would be nice to be able to transact business without worrying what custom might be offending whom, and what battle was lost most recently so as to avoid that topic in a discussion of current events." Snark dealt, Edwina lays the cards down on the table and looks up.

Who doesn't need money? Why, the l'Fausts, of course. They practically have gold coming out their ears. Still, Alaric is happy enough to pick up his offered cards, likewise fanning them out in front of himself. "Betting, Eve, is not the way to sustained success. Unless one can manage to win over and over again… but then, one might be suspected of cheating." The man's head bobs up and down. "Hounds, yes. You say that peace may usher in trade, but I say that trade will usher in peace. The matters that you mention, Edwina, are frustrating enough, but they become less so when each side has a financial interest in forgiving and forgetting, I think." Grin. "I imagine we will encounter a great many people while we are here in Rovilon. Tell me, whom do you most look forward to seeing?"

Evelyn fans her cards out as well, then looks to Edwina to see if she wishes to change any of her cards out with a curious glance and silent inquiry. She seems pleased enough with her hand though. "I'm looking forward to spending a little more time with Lord Lucas l'Saigner," states Evelyn. She well knows Alaric's opinion on the Lord, but as little sisters are wont to do, she really doesn't care what he thinks about who she hangs out with. "And I am interested in meeting Lord Thaddeus Greycen of Rivana. He's one of Rivana's best. Next to Jaren Cassomir. Who won't be competing."

"And here I thought my answer rather obvious." Reordering those ordered cards, Edwina looks lazily up toward Alaric. "The replacement for Ramius, of course." Lifting the middle card without breaking her gaze at the sole male representative at their table, she hands it in a dextrous, clipped motion to Evelyn. Swap this one, please thanks. "They've made quite a show of removing Ramius — and rightly so," she adds quickly, shoulders stiffening in pre-defensive behavior. "They'll likely make just as much of a show installing his replacement. I'm curious to see whom they support, especially given the breaches between the Crown and the Faith in previous years." That comes with a shake of her head, a moment in which Edwina's true feelings are betrayed for a moment before she straightens up again and forgets she's a human.

"Ah, yes. Because Sir Jaren is up for a bit of a… promotion, I hear." And earning the envy of every nobleman in the Edge while he's at it, one assumes. Alaric pauses for a few moments, then selects one, two, three cards to swap out. "I imagine Lord Lucas will be competing in the archery contest, at the very least. I wonder if his sister's condition means that we are likely to see more of him?" To Edwina's question, he gives a little nod. "Likely they will. I do wonder whether they will choose a Bishop from Couviere, or send one from Sanctum. Not that it is mine to question His Holiness, of course, but he would do well to choose a local, I should think." Sip. Eyes flicker from sister to cousin and back again. "And whom should /I/ be looking forward to meeting, I wonder?" He doesn't deign to answer his own question.

"Mmmm," opines Evelyn, handing Edwina her card and trading it for a new one. Her eyes slide to Alaric, now. The silent question exchanged: Does he need a new card? Then, she nods a little, "May the bastard rot in hell for the pain and sorrow he brought our country," she states, ferverently. She scowls, some. "I do not see even The One taking pity on him for what he has wrought," she answers in regards to Edwina's sentiments. Then, she's looking over towards Alaric. And she chuckles, some. "The Lady Alina shall still inherit, I've no doubt. But, perhaps we shall. It will be interesting, at the very least. And as to whom you should meet? Greedy merchants, of course. And, possible some lovely noblewoman. Father and Mother will no doubt be looking to pair you off soon." Before her, at least. She knows she has time, yet, as long as Alaric remains yet unwed.

Chortling, Edwina accepts the card. "Yes, a delightful young noblewoman with ample hips and bright eyes. I'm sure she'd do the job credibly." Or so the common preferences say; Edwina has neither and she seems to have made out well enough, or so her current air suggests. Setting her new card among her others, she takes a moment to decide which one to play. "You never know. The One takes pity on even the lowest of us when still we do not deserve such gracious gestures." It isn't holier-than-thou, just meant as being reassuring, even given the subject matter. "Will you enter the archery contest with Lord Lucas, then?" Turning to Evelyn, Edwina smirks.

Alaric takes a few moments to reconsider when his sister's eyes meet his, then puts two cards back in his hand, sliding just one across the table to her. "Oh, I am certain she will, Eve. But in the meantime, given her condition, she's unlikely to do much traveling, and the Hawk rarely leaves Lonnaire. That leaves just the one son to work on his behalf out in the world." Shrug. Sip. "I've met enough greedy merchants for one lifetime, and I suspect there will be more. But as to the other sort?" Alaric smirks back at Edwina. "One can do worse than ample hips and bright eyes. And I suppose I shouldn't remain unwed much longer."

Sliding the requested cards to Alaric, Evelyn takes 2 of her own after a drink of her mug of ale. "True," she agrees to Alaric's point of Lucas being the Hawk's only method of movement in the world. At least, among his direct heirs. "And they are aplenty. And many come out to watch the Tourney." She chuckles, low, and then lays her cards out on the table. She's a pair of deuces, and a pair of 9's. "But most of all, I am glad to not be encamped for months on end anymore."

"Camping always seems much more interesting when it's not out of necessity." Putting down her cards down, Edwina concedes defeat; the other two twos, then a six and a seven. Bah. "If you don't mind me stepping away to get myself some refreshment, l'Fausts? And what else for you? I think I'm buying this round." She doesn't seem dismayed as she rises - in face, she's smiling.

"And I'm glad to have you back where it's safe, Eve." It seems that Alaric's draw has been a lucky one - a five to match the two in his hand, and he's the winner with three of a kind. "By all means, cousin, by all means. Another round would be delightful." That being said, he settles back a little further in his chair to enjoy an evening of what's sure to be pleasantly inconsequential talk.

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