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a tango with .forks.; *Black, Belladonna, Tynsdale and Court*
Topic Started: Sep 11 2007, 05:40 PM (732 Views)
Rhydra Celestine
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Black Widow Queen
Opal - Red
Symon was quiet for a moment as he listened to the men around the table bare their chests and beat on them using the veiled excuse of the Queen’s honor. Symon knew that Rhydra did not need anyone to defend her honor besides himself, but he let the boys continue on with their chattering as it did not seem to effect Rhydra any as she quietly enjoyed her soup. He was secretly pleased with the fact that her anger seemed to have dwindled away to nothing and he hoped that she had accepted that they would be joining her for a little longer. He knew that she hated being told what to do and often rebelled with greatest objection, but he thrilled that she had conceded on this tiny point because it meant that there was a glimmer of hope. He would have to tell Leyna of this development as soon as he was able. She would be just as pleased as he was.

Little did he know that Rhydra was in the midst of having a quiet conversation with Bella through distaff to distaff psychic threads and was using the power of her Red jewel to be sure that he was kept blissfully unaware. Rhydra’s brown eyes shifted from her soup dish to meet Bella’s own golden eyes and she tilted her head a bit to indicate she wished to speak without anyone else knowing. She then sent a very tight Opal thread to her Court Healer and used the depths of her Red to keep Symon from over hearing. If he heard what she was about to ask he would no doubt sputter his soup out all over the table which would be not only disgusting but very unbecoming and Rhydra (in the guise of only looking out for his reputation) wanted him to remain in control and enjoying his soup.

*Tell me truthfully, Belladonna,* began Rhydra in a rather neutral tone, *Did Symon tell you of his plans before his night or were you just as surprised as I was that there were to be four unknown men here besides Gabriel.* She hadn’t told Belladonna about Gabriel since there had been no time between she and Symon’s shopping trip and her getting ready for the dinner. She felt an unnatural need to ask Belladonna’s opinion about Gabriel, but she also knew that if Belladonna didn’t approve that it would make no difference, and yet the need was prevalent and she felt almost obligatory to concede to its demands. She never forfeited to anyone and now she was admitting to herself that she wanted the approval of others? These feelings that Gabriel had inspired in her were far too complicated for her to decipher now and instead asked the question that was itching at the tip of her tongue. *What do you think of Prince Black, Belladonna.* She left if at that. She did not want to gush about how noble he seemed or even how his strong jaw made her want to place nibbling kisses along it. She didn’t want anyone to know she felt that way, least of all Gabriel.

Rhydra was enjoying this conversation outside the normal conversation as she had nothing really to contribute to that one. They were playing at defending her honor and she would let them play it out. When Xane made a comment about how the spices were exotic she took a small break to happily intervene with a quick smile which mirrored his own. “Yes, actually, they are from Scelt and Dharo, but I am quite surprised you were able to tell that from the soup. You have a very clever palette, Lord Ocventay.”

She smiled genuinely at the pair (meaning Xane and Gabriel) which of course caused Symon’s brows to furrow in frustration. He did not understand why the Queen was enjoying the company of the men he had not chosen. They were roguish, rough and uncultured and yet she seemed to enjoy their conversation and ignored the comments of the others. Symon could not understand why she simply nodded and gave a disinterested smile when Reginald spoke or why she seemed uncomfortable under Valerius’ obviously praising if not long glances at her.

Though when the suitor who had deigned not to give his name mentioned the word “rutting” Rhydra broke off her psychic conversation with Belladonna abruptly and even put a Red shield over herself so that Belladonna could not ask her what was wrong. Even Symon would feel the sudden boost in power next to him as his Queen’s eyebrows snapped together in anger and her usually soft chocolate colored eyes hardened to auburn steel on Marrius. Her usually lush lips were pressed together in a thin line and she kept the Red jeweled shield around herself in order to mask the rage that had boiled up at the mere mention of the word. It was confusing for Rhydra why the mention of such a primal (albeit) normal word would have her so angry and defensive. Still hazy images or perhaps memories were conjured to the edge of her consciousness at the mention of that term and she wanted to know why.

Her eyes shifted to the side and she caught Symon in her angry gaze. *Who is he, Symon,* she demanded on a Green thread as if to show the severity and necessity of his answer. Symon responded in kind and tried to remain calm since he knew that if she were surrounded in calm she seemed to ride out her temper faster. *His name is Marrius Tynsdale, Rhydra, and he belongs to a very prominent family in Nharkhava.* He used her name as another way of calming her down. No titles. No pretenses. He was being honest and he hoped she realized it.

Rhydra was not ready to be pandered to and Symon’s obvious patronizing tone only served to further her anger. She didn’t know quite what to do as the word kept repeating in her head and the more it repeated the clearer the images that had been called forth by the word became and she was shocked at what she saw. Horrified. She closed her eyes as the painful memory played through her head. She knew that it was her at an early age and she knew that the man was Popovich, the Headmaster of Meadowbrook, but she didn’t know why she was imagining herself and Popovich doing. She was repulsed by it and suddenly terrified by what it meant. Was this a repressed memory that was released by the mention of such a simple word as rutting? Or was this some carefully laid web that someone had somehow snuck into her dinner. Her eyes narrowed on each of them as she now suspected each and everyone of them had a motive.

She looked to Symon and admitted that he would have no benefit from this terrible prank, and then to Belladonna and surmised the same thing. She looked to Gabriel and though it caused her a bit of angst at the thought that he was lying to her and using her she realized that she couldn’t rule him out as a player in this. She barely knew him and as it was her rage was making her see red and paint everyone in a category that they were out to get her. Paranoia was one of her least favorite behavioral quirks, but she was used to it. Everyone at the table, whether they realized it or not, were balanced on a precarious edge that was Rhydra’s temper. The images were still replaying in her head, but she had since convinced herself that they were the product of a Black Widow’s skillful dark web and not her own memories. They couldn’t be her memories. Her memories of her childhood were mundane and boring… something like this would certainly standout in her mind, and yet she couldn’t help but feel doubt at this assertion.

Even though she had placed a strong shield around her she sensed that the table had realized she was not exactly with them anymore. She rubbed her index and fore finger against her temple and her lips turned to a frown as her other hand made the motion to halt their bickering. She wanted to hear nothing more of the bedroom. She wanted to hear no more voices and their anger was only serving to fray her own control over her temper. She knew she should not blame them as they did not know her very well, but she could not help herself.

“Stop,” she stated in a tone that hinted of steel and fire. They would no doubt realize in a few moments time that she was not just angry at the way the conversation had turned, but she was down right enraged. She would try to make it seem as though she was insulted by their bickering in front of her, but she was no fool to know that those who had a keen eye on what was being said and her reaction would no doubt equate her reaction to Marrius’s comment before. “I do not want to hear another word of drivel escape your bloody mouths.” Her tone was soft and velvety and yet it was like that of a cobra that lured you in with its sweet movements only to kill you moments later. Had she not been speaking words that were so obviously full of anger one might have mistaken her tone of voice for in the bedroom. “It is clear to me that some of you do not appreciate my hospitality. Let me assure you that you are here for no reason other than I did not want to embarrass you by throwing you out as I stepped into this room. I do not know what my Steward has told you, but I am not one accustomed to listening to men fuss. It irritates me, and if you somehow escape this night without my rage being directed at you then the Darkness must have been smiling on you this night. Furthermore,” she continued and her hard-as-steel eyes focused on Marrius. “I am not pleased on where this conversation has gone. Matters of the bedroom and vile words like “rutting,” she spat this word as a look of disgust overtook her beautiful features, “belong else where and not in my presence. You are supposed to be a noble, no?” She looked pointedly at Marrius and addressed only him. “Then I suggest you begin to act like it, however you will not learn to in my Court. You may take your leave of this table, or I shall make you.”

She knew that she most likely should not have said such things and would regret sending Marrius Tynsdale away from her manor. If he did not leave willingly she would have her guards remove him forcibly and he would most likely not escape her manor without some sort of bruise. After her final statement she did not acknowledge him at all and she did not even cast a glance in his direction as he angrily stood knocking over his chair in the process and left the room with as much dignity as he could muster. Rhydra looked sadly down at her soup as her rage began to recede which simply left her tired and touchy. She had lost her appetite and they had only made it to the second course of a beautifully designed meal. She did not want it to go to waste and yet she did not think she could survive another bite passing her lips. She felt as though she had ruined this night and in part felt angry with herself.

“If you’ll excuse me… I need some fresh air. Please, continue to enjoy the meal.” She stood shakily and shook her head when Symon moved to join her. She wanted him to remain at the table. There would no doubt be questions and even though she didn’t care much about her reputation she had an issue of pride that had to be addressed. Symon would cover for her she hoped.

[OOC: Ok, I didn’t want to tie up the dinner thread just yet because I feel that there is much more that could happen and that each suitor hasn’t gotten a chance to buddy up to Rhydra (mostly just Gabe, Xane and Val – Reg will be dismissed in a little while. His aunt will call him back when the other nobles learn she dismissed Marrius.) So, anyway, Rhydra has retreated to an outer deck but Symon is still in the room to answer the characters questions about what just happened, why it happened, and where to go from there. If anyone has any suggestions feel free to talk to me.]
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Gabriel Black
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Warlord Prince
Green Birthright
As he heard the reply come from Marrius, his temper flared to a dangerous height. Gabriel knew that he as well as Marrius wore the Green, but for him it made no difference when the skill of a blade was placed to the test. The fact that this bastard had made it appear as though he would smell of swine made him wish that he could meet him in a dueling match, though if indeed the smell coming from the kitchen was pork, perhaps he would not have minded and had in fact thought to respond in kind before he felt and saw the face of his Queen change from playful and tolerant, to icy and vengeful.

He listened as she scolded each one in turn and felt nothing more than shame for having sat through this entire dinner and done nothing more than pick a fight with the biggest ass this side of the barns of Scelt. His eyes drew themselves downward as he berated himself as she turned her full attention toward Marrius and half heard the full barrage of reprimands the Queen had sent flying in his direction. Had he been the bigger man, he would have cheered and hooted for his Queen as she dealt the embarassing verbal blows.

His ears, however, heard a different tale after the prick had left. He turned to look upon his Queen and saw that something had disturbed her deeply. A revolting shudder came over him as he saw the look with which she regarded him. Where in the Palisade she had been regal and inviting, in the here and now, she was glancing around the table with a look of paranoia hidden under a facade of cool. As she took her leave, he saw Symon move to intercept but was stopped by her almost non-existant nod that clearly stated no.

He sat there for a moment and wondered. What would happen should he walk out behind her and offer his shoulder to lean on aside from Symon's? He could see from Symon that the old man had clearly not had this kind of turn out nor this dinner going the direction it had been going. With a nod to himself he stood and almost instantaneously Symon did as well.

"I do not believe the Queen would like to talk further." stated the old man as he moved to where Gabriel was now standing.

It was clear the man loved his Queen. However, Gabriel felt...led? Inspired? Maybe desperate to see that his Queen was ok or to see if there was something, anything, that he could do to apologize for his behavior. Not to mention, the ever growing worry for his parents health as the night had worn on.

"I mean no offense to you, Steward. However, I do not believe that this night has been one to show how well you know our Queen." replied Gabriel quietly to show his respect but also his honesty.

"You do not understand me Warlord Prince. The Queen would much rather be alone at the moment." pleaded Symon. For a moment, Gabriel thought to concede and perhaps meet his Queen at some other point in order to apologize. However, the same pressing need to make sure she was alright pushed him on.

"Symon," he began with the same respect as before, but with a hint of apology."Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only one here who cares for Queen Rhydra. Or that you alone have suffered...indignities...to uphold her name." He finished, and with out a second look, gave a polite bow to those gathered.

"If you'll excuse me. Xane, I'll need your opinion of the rest of the meal." he managed as he gave his friend a wink and followed after Rhydra through the doors she had walked through.

It took a few moments, but he finally managed to track her down as she stood in the doorway of a balcony on the second floor, not too far away from the noises coming from the kitchen or the dining room.

"My Queen..." he managd to speak barely above a whisper. "Forgive me if I've startled you. I..." he paused as he saw a brief shudder eminate from her shoulders. "I wanted to apologize. I'm not really sure as to why I followed you here. I only know that when I saw you leave, something urged me to follow. I will leave, if you wish it, my Queen. But know that if you need them, these arms have held up friends in need, and if need be, would hold you..." he managed as he stood just far enough away to leave if she wanted him gone. He stood there in the silence of the evening and waited quietly for the response from the woman in front of him.

Whom he had just realized was the culprit of theft. Though what she had stolen had no monetary gain. No, what she had taken was far more valuable, and despite promises and vows that such a thing would never happen, it had. She was the thief, and the item was his heart.
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Xane Ocventay
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Warlord
Opal Birthright
Someone found one of her buttons. Xane rubbed his chin ruefully as Gabriel gave him a worried wink and scooted after the vanished Queen. It was the underlying fear that gave her anger a bitter taste to his mind. His return comment, “I’ve traveled, my lady. Native spices are usually distinct,” had been innocuous enough, so it wouldn’t have been that. That spices weren’t a bitter topic held some small amusement for him.

The shield, though, that worried him. When active, he had barely sensed it at the edge of his perception, but he was trained enough to know what a surge in that direction meant. Why would she have shielded hers-? Well, obviously four strange men would probably have had something to do with it. But it had been the mention of sex to panic her. Vulnerability was a dangerous trait in a Queen.

On a sharp, private spear thread Xane sent to Gabriel. *If you hadn’t gone after her, I’d have kicked your ass. Something’s eating at her. I’m going to find out what I can.* There was nothing to be done on that front and if anyone could withstand pain and anger from the Queen it would be his old friend. It was the deflated look she’d adopted before leaving the room that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Ah, Lord Griswold? Would you care to explain to me precisely what just happened? I’m not usually a participant in dinners that could easily kill me.” If the answer wasn’t what he was looking for, he’d ask for a tour of the mansion after dinner.

As Xane looked around the table at the remaining guests, he had a thought. This might be the only chance he had to enjoy a full however-many-course meal at a real aristo mansion. Just for that, it wasn’t worth it to leave. Besides, he’d had orders from both the absent dark jewels to enjoy the meal. He flashed Symon a feral smile, “And – what’s next on the menu?”
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