(1866-07-09) A Dark Lady
A Dark Lady
Summary: Gastogne and Angelique have an encounter in a tavern and Gastogne perhaps gets more than he expects.
Date: 1866-07-09
Related: None
Angelique  Gastogne  

A Tavern - Couviere
See scene…

In the bar, Gastogne looks over at the board suspiciously. Laid out in maps of the various kingdoms, with playing pieces setup along it and large, central 'thrones' in the capitals of the kingdom. "It will never sell, Markham. I mean.. Game of Thrones? The board is the size of a table. No one will want to buy it."

The tavern doors swing open and shut upon one more, fleeing the night and rain. In this case the fugitive is tall, clad in a long cloak and hood. She puts back the latter, revealing a pale face, dark curling hair and tawny eyes. She stalks to the bar, cloak flaring a bit as she does, like wings. Over the murmurs of the crowd, amidst the smoke of pipes, she moves to the slow tap of her heels. One the way she spies the great board. One arched brow quirks upwards, her generous mouth smiles. "It's…so Big." Her voice is low, soft and dark. Angelique raises her gaze to meet those of the two at the game. She nods in greeting.

Turning over to nod at Angelique, and Gastogne goes, "Precisely!" Pointing over at his companion, "It will never sell well. Some of the nobles might go for it, but there's no way everyone will want to buy it." Glancing down at it. "And I can't get some of the rules either.."

His companion laughs, "That's because you're a buffoon, you moron. If you can get something it means the rest of us are doing it wrong!"

The Lady smiles, a touch sadly, her double entendre having been missed. "ah so this is a game you wish to sell?" Again that voice like velvet and smoke. She leans forward, examining the board. Under the cloak she is in good but not ostentatious attire; leather breeches, tall boots, a very low bodice, and a short coat. All in matching black, even the black ribbon at her throat. The tiny heart locket depending from that is silver however, in the form of a heart. Her dark hair is up, a few drops of rain glitter there. Angel looks and tries to decide if the map represents real kingdoms….

Gastogne glances over at his companion, "Oh, this lout does and thinks it will be all the rage." His companion smirks. "It will be. I consider this lout's lack of interest to be confirmation that it will. Since he's always wrong in everything, I consider it an endorsement."
Now,looking over at Angelique, Gastogne just smiles wolfishly. "Why hello there my lady, would you care to join us?"

Angelique looks up from her regard of the game, meeting Gastogne's. The light catches her eyes for a moment they are golden-red then they fade to tawny as she glances at the game designer she speaks first. "Perhaps you might make the board folding? Easier to carry." The back to Gastogne. "Certainly, it is cold rain and a warming drink will be much appreciated." Her accent is hard to place, origins hidden, even class hard to tell. But…so smooth.

Looking up the woman up and down very, very over appreciatively, Gastogne smiles, "A drink for the lady then!"
The barman looks over at him with faded annoyance. "Of course, my lady."
Gastogne goes on, "So then my lovely little thing, what will it be?"

Angel returns the evaluating gaze, coolly. She steps round the table, moving closer. She is tall, just below eye level with a tall man, From what he can see, she is curvy and slim, all at once. She moves with predatory grace. "Mulled wine, if you please.." She smiles fully, red lips curving, a flash of very white teeth…

Someone more rational might take the bared teeth as a sign to back off, or that something was up. For Gastogne, this does not register. "Mulled wine it is for the lovely lady.. What shall I call you, my dear?" Definitely enjoying the sight.

Angel, laughs, low and musically. "You may call me Chevchelle. My thanks for the drink." She sips from the cups, eyes gone golden over the rim as she does. She lowers the drink, lick her lips. "And you, what may I call you?"

Gastogne smiles, "Well then, welcome. I am Gastogne! And I am the prince of this lovely place, made all the more wonderful by your presence, my lovely lady." The immediate area fills with mocking laughter at his comments. He shakes his fist. "Shut up you fools!"

Angel leans against the bar, long legs crossed, elbow resting on the surface, chin in hand. Deceptively relaxed. A knowing smile still upon her lips. At the laughter and Gastogne's retort her eyes gleam, mischief perhaps. "Ah my Prince your Court is lively!"

Gastogne just shakes his fist, "They'll know what they have coming to them soon enough. But now, my lady, the Queen of the court is here and all will be well." Grinning.

"Ah, a Queen? I fear not, Sir. Though I do thank you for the elevation in Rank." Her eyes gleam again as she drinks, watching him. There is something terribly still about her, as if her placid movement hide a potential for…something. "I am sure all will be well though." she runs a gloved finger round the rim of her cup.

There is something innately terrifying about the woman that the rest of the immediate inhabitants seem to recognize and give space. Well, other than Gastogne then. "Why, for a pretty thing such as yourself nothing is too high.."

"Oh, I agree, there should be no limits on…Good things." Angel's gaze roam the room calmly. No one meets her eyes. Of course, a dark and rainy night, a tall Lady in Black, what is there to fear really? Perhaps some have seen the Rapier riding at her hip, the brace of stilettos nearby…But the Gastogne is likely looking no lower than her Bosom…

That is exactly the point of her anatomy that Gastogne is focused on making contact with. As far as he's concerned this is his lucky night. "Of course, my fine Lady.. Chevelle." Missing the rapier, just focused on as far as he is concerned what are the finer points of her anatomy.

Angel's laugh is musical, louder now, though still low and soft. Not mocking, genuinely amused really. Chevchelle, for the Little Owl, who hunts by night. She raise her cup in toast, drinks, eyes half closed as she steps closer.

Is he the prey then? Or is he as he likes to think the predator? Or will he end up yanked up to a great height and dropped? The wine is fine, even as Gastogne's eyes roam your body.

Up closer, he can scent her, warm, clean skin, leather, patchouli….and something darker, muskier, perhaps metallic. The scent of blood is faint so perhaps he does not note it. Her /finer points/ are very lovely indeed, she all but spills out of her Bodice….

And those finer points are winning. In most people, they would recognize they are dealing with something -deadly-.. But not the doofus as he leans in, enjoying the view..

Angel is quite close now; really she is quite tall. Must be the heels that tap softly with each step. The crowd IS Paying attention perhaps, in that way one does when watching the Mouse bumble too close to a viper; they wait for the strike. She smile, teeth showing, eyes very bright. "Are you enjoying the…sights Master Gastogne?" She sips from her cup, noting the barkeep backing away just a bit….

People are slowly backing away - either from the aura of dark power from the lady or knowing what normally happens to Gastogne when he comes on in such ways. "Why yes.. Quite a bit. Shall we go somewhere more.." His grin broadens, even as her teeth flash in a way that for others signals her readiness to slash out his throat.

Angel's smile is complete, red lips, white teeth gleaming. She leans down, so close as if to kiss perhaps. Her body molds against his, all he could have wished for. "Such a wonderful toy." Her gloved hand caresses his cheek, slides round the back of his neck. Her fingers, in butter soft leather twine through his hair, gently. Then they lock, like talons. She pulls him back exposing his throat. She leans closer yet, he can feel the warmth of her breath on his throat as his eyes are forced to stare at the lantern above. it is very bright. "But you are lucky, Gastogne, Prince of the Tavern. I have fed tonight, already. So little one, you are spared…" Something very sharp, bitterly so, just brushes his throat. The stubble makes a scraping sounds as it does. "So please, do not make me regret this act of…mercy. Just sit quietly and bid me good night."

There's a sudden.. Shriek then that fills the air. A shriek then that sounds high pitched and extremely girlish. Oh, yes, that comes over from Gastogne then as he lets out a howl then of fear and stumbles back, and it's only her holding him upright that has him standing up. "oh gods yes spare me please spare me." He sobs, flailing and falling then as she releases him. "Oh yes mercy mercy yes please. I wish you a good night, a good night, a wonderful night!"

Angelique releases him. Her smile, not a nice one, does not touch those golden eyes. She turns, surveying the room with a raptors gaze. None challenge her. She stalks to the doors, heels tapping. Several men stumble out of her way as she goes.
She flicks her cloak about her, then vanishes into the night and rain.

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