INT - The Cabaret; day
Delilah Harper-Windgrace leaned casually on the bar. She was already on her second glass, and the wine was going down smoothly. "...anyway, at that point, Ah wished her well with her work, an' walked her ta th' end of oor property. Now, Ah'm nae expert at witches, that's mare Stan an' Di's area of expertise, but Ah dae think this Sarah lass daesna mean us harm. She coud be a decent ally. Ah'm no' sure 'boot this Solaris an' Rime yet, thou. An' we prob'ly keep an eye on all three 'til we have a better idea how dangerous they may be."
Dorian had heard his sister say it several times by now, that he should go back to the cabaret. He had so liked it before learning of Roesler's untoward appetites. The air clearing had to start somewhere, and with a path forward on that he'd the brilliant idea to take Lilah with him. She was recently back from her sojourn in the woods enough for them to have plenty to catch up on. As she demonstrated with the witch exposition. Dorian had listened intently though his foot tapped along to the music playing. Some early jazz number.
He'd sipped scotch and was also on his second, and after a moment's consideration he'd agree, "You know I am not privy to anything important until someone else has made a plan, but I shall remember the names at least. Or the idea of these people, if I am very honest, should I run into any of them. Still though, I trust your judgment on the matter. You've a keen nose. Say, if it is not too personal a question, did you have a nice time away? Out in the rough, were you?"
Delilah Harper-Windgrace flashed the most cordial of Windgrace's a toothy grin, letting her finger trace briefly along the rim of her glass before the ultra-sonic pitch bothered her enough to stop, a weird habit she'd taken to doing to herself at some point she'd long since forgotten. "Well, Ah'm sure ye'll run inta at least one of them. Sarah, the reasonable one? Ah fergot ta mention she's also th' new owner of Murphy's upstairs...Ah talked ta her aboot us possibly importin' goods fer her. Sae, there's that." Pausing, she sipped at her wine, letting her eyes drift over the space of the cabaret. She'd been somewhat surprised at Dori's suggestion of coming by...one didn't need to be a a genius to sense the tension between him and Niles Roesler in recent weeks, but she wasn't about to question it as a particular attractive server walked by. Her attention was drawn back from attractive forms as Dorian inquired about her, and she nodded, "Mmm, aye. It wis good ta stretch ma legs, gae on th' hunt an' just no' worry about putting on some mask...ye've all managed without me while Ah wis away? Anything Ah missed, besides poor ol' Gunner?"
Dorian sipped as he listened, attention firmly on his lupine kinswoman. He was curious about how she lived and seemed like she knew some sort of liberation he could hardly imagine, and that was what he commented on, "It must be very... freeing doing that bit, out there. And jolly good, perhaps I shall introduce myself to this Sarah then in the interest at least of striking up a friendly bit of business. As regards your time away, the issue with Gunner and the maid, well with you back, I am greatly comforted that you shall be here to help us keep him engaged and out of his room a bit more. I should mention that I am having a duel with the founder of this establishment, first blood, and that should be a lark." His smirk hitched up one side of his face as he invited her response, this time without sipping.
Delilah Harper-Windgrace let her eyes close briefly at the wistfulness in Dori's voice, and for a moment she was back in the woods again, running on four legs until she tired herself out. "It's...a feelin' without compare..." she said, an almost delicate tone to her voice, as if the visual were some delicate thing. Eyes opening, the golden orbs moved back to her sibling-cousin-friend. "Ah think ye shoud try it, Dori, might suit ye. Ah knaw oor situations are different, but even just bein' oot in nature Ah think daes wonders fer the constitution." As Dorian spoke of his upcoming duel, however, a side of Lilah's mouth tugged up in a grin, "Oh, aye? Ah'd rather like ta see that. Pistols, or swords? Please tell me it's swords, they dae take sae much more skill, an' arnae loud an' stinky..."
Odette di Benedetti 's eyes had widened when the man and woman seemed to rise from the ground behind the hedge. They were all fancied up and clearly awake from the evening before, if the merriment in their demeanors and the waft of libations emanating were any indication.
As they tumbled off, Odette looked up and down the lane, making sure the coast was clear, then she tugged her skirts closer and shimmied down into the manhole, carefully runging her way down the ladder.
The intrigue was just too much and her curiosity had gotten the better of her; belatedly she hoped she didn't regret it.
A huff of air hissed between pursed lips as she reached the bottom, and one delicate hand brushed down her satin skirt, smoothing it and then her hair, before she closed the distance to the velvet padded doors.
Another deep and unnecessary breath preceded a gentle shove and she was inside, peering at the angry looking concierge. A few quick words, a few shared bills, and Odette was waved into the dim atmosphere of what appeared to be a clu
Dorian's smile had softened as he imagined for a moment the wonders of free air and the outdoors. He made do with riding his horse a few times a week outside of town. There was the shop to attend to. A twin to keep watch of. But that did not mean he could not imagine different priorities. With a moment of silence and scotch supping. Off the other side of that he'd reply with a brief chuckle, "Sabres. You know I am not allowed anything with powder, don't you? PaPa forbade me them, even after I came back from my second tour in the royal navy. I had trained in their use by then, but... well he loves his dogs. Good job I did most of my fighting a bit closer, when it was fighting. Bloody Spaniards." Charles Windgrace was a real son of a bitch, and it was probably not just Dorian who was often sure the man loved his canines better than his two legged children. They were more obedient and less trouble.
Inside a band was playing some upbeat early jazz to a crowd of revelers attended by a barkeep who'd known the elder Windgrace twin by sight. The blond half of the pair holding up one end of the bar had his toe tapping in time to the music.
Delilah Harper-Windgrace smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye as Dori spoke of being forbidden from the use of firearms, offering the blond man a single-shouldered shrug. "Aye, Stan had shared with me yer da's instructions before. But yer da's no' here on this island, sae Ah dinnae want ta presume ye'd be stickin' ta that rule now that yer here...Ah knaw ye've a complicated relationship with th' old codger." Setting down her empty wine glass, she signaled the bartender for a refill before adding, "Still, Ah approve of yer use of sabers...if ye need a second, Ah'd be happy ta stand at yer side any day, lad." Offering Dori a small wink, she let her eyes drift through the small crowd. They ended up falling on a blonde entering, a touch of recognition in her eyes...she'd seen the woman before, but where wasn't coming to her.
Odette di Benedetti Music swelled once she rounded into the main area of the venue, voices lifted in gaiety as people reveled to the music and under the influence of whatever their particular brand of poison was.
The snappy jazz was a welcome distraction from the thrum of heartbeats she normally heard when breaching a room with this many people taking up residence.
Odette found a small bounce to her step as she moved deeper into the cabaret, black eyes sweeping over faces as her vision adjusted easily to the low lighting. It was noted, with appreciation, the fine appointments of furniture and decor. Whomever owned this place had taste and very deep pockets.
Having spent much time in the salons of Paris, the diminutive woman knew what kind of change this luxury cost.
Skirting a particularly noisy cluster of several men and one woman, Odette danced out of the way and toward a pillar at the edge of the seating, pressing her back against the wood as she perused the stage, then the bar.
Odette's fathomless obsidian gaze fastened on a familiar face: Delilah Harper-Windgrace. That's what Vedis had called the woman.
Her pale head canted to one side as that bow-shaped mouth curled at the corners, her ghost of a smile adding to the greeting to the woman.
Dorian nearly snarfed scotch as his companion reminded him of the lovely fact that the patriarch was half a world away, and more that she called the man a codger. It was a step farther than the dutiful son would go, but delighted him nonetheless, unto laughing, choking, and coughing. He had to sneak a hand into his jacket pocket for a handkerchief and wipe his face and hand, once he'd set his glass down. Having cleaned up and stopped laughing at her last though, he tucked the thing back into his pocket, face gone serious and hands wiped down, his expression sobered with silvery unlight dancing in his eyes, "Would you really be my second? Oh Delilah, that would be most welcome. I would be honoured to call you that. Not that I can imagine circumstances under which I should not do the thing myself, but, I would feel a bit less touchy with you there. Same next new moon, how about that, hm?"
Delilah Harper-Windgrace's head mirrored the woman's cant to the side as she tried to place the woman's face. It was the ghost of a smile that did it...Odette...Vedis' friend. Or at least acquaintance. Lilah's eyes were on the woman, but she didn't miss Dori's wink in her peripheral vision...the gesture practically seeped itself into her very words, and Lilah couldn't help but smirk, which would inevitably seem to be directed towards the woman. Eyes still on her, Delilah replied to her brother-friend-cousin, "Ah'm no' sure yet...Ah met her very briefly just th' other day...she seems ta be acquainted ta Vedis, however..." As the same waitress Lilah had noticed earlier was passing by in the woman's direction, Delilah stopped her, whispering in her ear, "Excuse me, but woud ye please invite that young lady over ta join us fer a drink? Thank ye," and motioned towards Odette. As the waitress moved to invite her over, Lilah seemed to move back to the subject of Dori's duel, her expression open and honest as she said, "Ah knaw ye'd never
Delilah Harper-Windgrace: be one ta welch on a duel, mate. Just knaw, Ah'd be at yer side threw hell if ye asked me ta." And she reached out to give his arm a squeeze.
Odette di Benedetti 's gaze swept over the taller blonde man beside Delilah, the one she seemed to be with, and it their eyes met, her pale head would dip in a small nod to him, as well, before her attention slid back to the stage and the jazz band.
Watching them did have her pondering briefly what it would be like to find herself in a town where she could be on stage once more.
It had been so long since she'd been up there...to feel the crowd's emotions surge with excitement and lust simply by doing what came naturally to her.
The waitress's approach snatched her from her daydream, and starlit black eyes focused on the woman as she spoke, gesturing back toward Delilah and her companion, to which Odette would nod and smile.
Easily moving away from the pillar, the petite woman closed the distance to the two, weaving in and out of bodies as they moved to the music.
Both dainty hands were looped through the ring of her small bag, which hung against the front of her satin day dress- surely not common attire for a venue of this caliber, but then she had not intended to shimmy into a manhole to discover a den of decadence on a Sunday morning.
"Good day, Miss Harper-Windgrace. How kind of you to invite me over.", her velvet rasp slither out, taking up space amongst the three of them as her sparkling gaze slid from Lilah's face to land on the man's.
Dorian was not actually the family pick up artist with all the smooth moves Delilah possessed, his focus from early on being what it was. He watched her do her thing with the waitress and chuckled quiet mirth about it, explaining, quietly as he flickered his eyes toward the white-clad woman then back again,"You are a trifle classier at that than most fellows I have ever seen." His hand rested upon hers on his arm for that brief moment and he'd lock eyes with her, smiling broadly. A smile that said more than words could about solidarity and appreciation for it.
Since he'd not had the pleasure of meeting the woman before, the Englishman shifted on his dancing Oxford so that he was facing her. Once there he'd dip his pinstripe-suit clad form into a bow that would have been at home in the Renaissance courts of Europe, and rising purl to her in an accent that hearkened to nothing so much as old English money, "Thank you for joining us." With a hand whose fingertips rested lightly upon his tie, he'd offer fixing pale grey eyes upon the newcomer's, "Dorian Windgrace, mademoiselle. Let me just get the barkeep's attention." His smile was wide enough to almost elicit dimples upon fair, clean-shaven cheeks, and warm as the day was long. The hand that had rested upon tie lifted above his golden curls and he'd snap unshyly to do as he said he would.
Delilah Harper-Windgrace smiled brightly as the woman accepted her invitiation and approached, the barest hint of teeth visible in her smile as Dorian complimented her skills, such as they were. "Ah've nae idea what ye mean, Dori. Ah'm just bein' personable with a new arrival ta th' island..." she said softly, the height of innocence in her tone, which didn't quite manage to snuff the glint of curiosity in her eyes about the woman. She intrigued Delilah's senses...her scent was one thing, that elegant perfume. But her heartbeat, or lack thereof, that was another matter...who was this woman? Upon her arrival, Lilah ceased leaning against the bar like a lout and offered her a polite bow of the head, not quite so formal as Dorian, but still proper. "Och, thank ye fer accepting Ms. Odette. Oor meeting the other day wis sae brief, Ah wanted ta offer ye a more proper welcome ta th' island. May we buy ye a drink? What d'ye prefer?" As Dorian called over the barman, she added, "Dorian is ma adopted brother. And please, call me Delilah. Or Lilah if ye prefer."
Odette di Benedetti 's warmed-honey rasp was not overtly sensual, leaning more toward genuine interest and solicitude as she responded to the blonde man,
"Odette di Benedetti. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Windgrace. Would it be appropriate to assume you are of the rest of the Windgraces of Callisto that I've heard a bit about?", she'd query with gentle charm and grace.
His bright handsomeness did not go unnoticed, though Odette was nothing if not appropriate in public.
Now, behind closed doors....
She was unassuming, not even hazarding at the interactions between the two.
As Delilah spoke, the smaller woman's lashes fluttered ever so slightly and she'd demure just a bit at the warm welcome. When the relationship was explained, she'd glance between the two, taking that moment to notice the obvious difference and, perhaps, explain some of the more familiar interactions she'd noted upon her approach.
"Lilah. That is lovely. Thank you ever so for the hospitality. A white wine, please. It's too early for gin no?", she'd murr with a gentle grin of conviviality.
"How many Windgraces are there, if you don't mind me asking?".
This time, her glance between the two was slightly more assessing, and she'd brazenly take her time tracing first Lilah's face, then Dorian's with her eyes.
Dorian gave Lilah an especial sort of grin before and as she introduced him as her brother, his gods only knew what he'd have said. He'd nodded agreement to the sentiment. Well if he hadn't been busy drinking the last bit of single malt scotch limning his glass he might have even commented further. Instead he put his cup down and spoke to the attendant of the bar, "Another for me, and what she ordered too, my tab, I insist." He'd turned his head from the barkeep to Odette again, in a rare play of putting his foot down. He took revelry seriously. His heart beat slow and steady, he retained the smell of vetiver and something woodsy from soap or eau de parfum. His attire would give him away, cut from designer wool, and silk from the continent.
As he had his eyes land on the fair-haired woman again, he'd answer her jovially, "Oh my very new friend, there is no time too early for gin, by my reckoning. You have heard of us? Why there are the four of us here. Myself, my sister Lilah here, my brother Drystan and my sister Dinah. If you will allow me to say so, hearing Windgraces of Callisto sounds rather strange, but the sort of strange I think I can get used to. We are formerly of Hampshire. Cheriton, to be precise. A bit away from South Hampton." He was chugging down scotch as fast as his heightened regeneration would allow. Ordinarily he loosened up thus for dancing, and it was an old habit at this spot to do just that. Or at home. Anywhere that was not the shop, and even there some days.
Delilah Harper-Windgrace cocked her head to the side, a bemused smirk on her face at Dorian's seeming surprise. "Is it really such a surprise that word's gettin' around 'boot us? We're good employers, we're knawn fer payin' well an' givin' benefits, we live in a mansion overlookin' the ocean, we frequent local businesses, all in a relatively short time bein' here." Turning her head back to Odette, she offered a playful roll of the eyes. "Ye must fergive ma brother. He wis raised in wealth, sae sometimes he'll overlook how much those who're no' used ta it keep an eye on those what are. Me, Ah'm rather new ta it all, sae Ah have an easier time talking ta fowk." Motioning to a top up of her own white wine as the orders were placed, and went on, "Ta add ta his explanation, me an' Dori here spend most of oor time handling the day ta day runnin' of oor business. Oldest brother Drystan is an artist of some repute, an' Dorian's twin Dinah is a brilliant academic." Her eyes moved to Dorian, as if gauging that that amount of information would work for him, or if he wanted to correct her at all. Back to Odette, she added, "Where d'ye hail from, Ms. Odette?"
Odette di Benedetti A giggle erupted from her at Dorian's appreciation of her familial label and one delicate shoulder lifted in a half shrug- part apology, part acceptance.
Odette's pale head dipped, her nod slow as she listened to Dorian expound on his siblings and their origins.
"Ahhh, four. That is a lovely number. Are you are all here?", her query accompanying a nod of her head as the barman proffered to her a crystal wine goblet encasing a healthy measure of a buttery-looking chardonnay. Turning to grace the presenter with her attention, she'd send them a quick smile with a mouthed 'Thank you' before lifting the goblet.
At the mention of Cheriton, Hampshire, the smaller woman's smile deepened and a tiny chuckle rumbled her slender throat.
"Ahh, I thought I recognized that accent. You posh boys.", she'd add, her dark eyes lingering on his handsome face as she did so. It was with utter certainty that this man was used to attention, regardless of his leanings.
She lifted the glass, resting the rim against the pillow of plush lower lip and tipping it ever so slightly, the first few drops of wine sparking along her taste buds and the tiniest purr of delight /might/ be heard to emanate from her.
Odette's gaze slid to peruse Lilah's face as the woman spoke, those pale gold eyes so captivating as she went into more detail as to what they all did.
At the question, Odette lowered her wine glass and responded just loudly enough to be heard over the din of music and revelry,
"I am from Bristol, myself. Portishead- to be precise. Though, most recently, I've come from France. My work took me to Paris for...a while.".
Two such intriguing companions...Odette found herself indulging in another sip of wine, trying to pace herself.
Dorian probably also had a tang of the odour of magic, blended in with all the rest. It pervaded him, though it was not of his own doing, one did not live to be as old as he was without it or something else going awry. Or aright, in his case, because his glamour was his more accustomed self. The discerning might be able to tell that there was a fixedness to him, that time bent around thanks to that magic. As well as the fact that Delilah had laid out, that he was oblivious to anyone taking notice of little old him. He'd only add on, likely demonstrating this facet of him, "When this isle was dredged and built up from the sea, my kin had a hand in it." Having had relations with the crown, and some other royals and their ancestors in currently war-ravaged Europe his whole life gave him a bit of a blind spot which wealth afforded. It was only natural to him that they had a manor house tiny in comparison to the one back home. Less natural was the freedom of being outside the parental gaze, and that was something he'd toast to. He lifted his re-filled glass of single malt stuff from Lilah's homeland, and with it called, looking at both women in turn, "To being this far from the continent and our lovely isle, and yet finding fanTAStic company. I at least know that I am blessed."
He'd clink and then drink to that, and a moment later, pipe up, "Lilah has the right of it. After my time in the navy, I am delighted to be so far from the front. Portishead, you say? Only got there once, heard the most delightful quartet in a pub there. Female vocalist, one whose voice I shall not soon forget. Like any time spent in France, for better or worse, no? Hahaha" He'd recede to warm chuckles of the sort the English lavished on all things French. One had to get that remark about military affairs out of the way, or else be questioned about the lack of true patriotism. He was supporting the war effort, afterall, shipping back processed aether home for his father to disseminate.
Delilah Harper-Windgrace had a brief moment of mentioning Windgrace the elder, the old sod, but given Dorian's complicated relationship with his father she thought the better of it. Instead, she said, "In case it's no' obvious, Ah'm from Scotland. Born near Aberdeen, thou ma first family moved around a lot. Ah met Drystan in Austria, an' we travelled Europe some. France, Germany, Amsterdam, Hungary, Sweden, a few other places...by th' end, he brought me home ta his kin...somethin' of a stray, Ah s'pose, but we've made it work." She grinned, giving Dorian a small familial nudge with her elbow. The ease the pair with one another would say one of two things to their new companion...they got along in a short period of time, or Delilah had joined the family some time ago by now.
Odette di Benedetti blinked owlishly at Dorian's mention of a quartet from Portishead. It was indeed possible that he was discussing his experiences there. It had been no less than a century that she'd lived in Paris, so unless he was far older than he looked, it had not been her he'd heard in a pub.
Having watched empires rise and fall, she harbored no ill-will for the French any longer. It was a waste of energy, and they had some very redeeming qualities. Paris was one of them.
Odette's dark eyes shone over the top of her wine glass, and when Dorian announced a toast to being far from the continent and the company, she raised her own to carefully touch his, then Delilah's, a murmured "Salute" falling from her lips that curled into a grin.
Odette, in her own right, had the type of wealth that would keep her more than comfortable. It had for a very long time; but her roots were evident in her demeanor always.
When Dorian spoke of his military service, she nodded once more as the image he painted of himself made more sense with every word. She wondered, idly, if his face was always wreathed in such merriment, or if anything could make him broody and emotional.
Her attention swerved to Delilah, her eyebrows lifting slightly at the woman's words.
"Ahhh, that is a lot of travel! You've seen so much of the world, Lilah.", she murred. She noted the familiarity between the two and, considering it simply part of their dynamic, she'd add to Lilah,
"Drystan must have found you a perfect companion to traverse all that time with you and just...keep you. Tell me, what was your favorite place to be?", she'd ask out of sheer curiosity.
Dorian's ring-bedecked hands held fine metals, precious gems, but he wore them without thinking about them anymore. The golds, white, yellow and red of them had burnished, and the jewels retained their shine beside that colouring. He was utterly at ease in Lilah's company, and in this place. Delilah's further remarks and nudge were accompanied by a nod of his golden head. Classical or perhaps angelic curls playing atop an expression of amusement and easy confidence, a scimitar of a resting smile playing across his lips belying a nature suited to that ease. He'd explain without seeming to give it a second thought, "We have one of the men minding the shop on the waterfront just now, but you should find me there most afternoons and mornings, should you want to peruse catalogs to get something shipped to this fair isle. You do have the right of it Mademoiselle di Benedetti, Lilah and my brother wandered far and wide together. Firstborn gets a latitude and education different from the spare. I should like to hear
Dorian: this answer myself." He seemed to have little problem fitting his mouth around such names and conflations of language, another small tell of his accustomed associations back home. Nor accounting himself as the second born, with some humour, bachelor though he remained.
His toe had never stopped finding the rhythm and tapping to it, he'd even waggle his head to a particular few bars of a familiar song.
Delilah Harper-Windgrace let herself sway back and forth to the sound of the jazz for a moment, bobbing her head throughfully as she considered the many places they'd visited, sights they'd seen, people they'd killed. Rather than bring up blood spilled, however, she instead went with, "That there's a good question...we seen sae many amazin' things...me, personally, Ah love ta read, an' learn new things, sae anywhere with good books is home ta me. Shakespeare and Co at 12 rue de l'Odéon wis a favourite in Paris...Budapest has sae much character...Stadtbibliothek am Mailänder Platz in Stuttgart...Biblioteca Joanina in Portugal...Ah s'pose ye coud call me a literary traveller." She grinned at this and raised her glass, seemingly a toast to books. Taking a sip, she sighed and after a moment added "Stan an I are best mates...we each propped one another up...what he wisnae good at, Ah wis, an' vice versa...after a few years, it wis just as natural as anythin' fer me ta accompany him home."
Odette di Benedetti lofted a pale eyebrow at Dorian's use of the colloquialism, and she offered him an empathetic grimace,
"Trials and tribulations of the second-borne, eh?", her velvet and dulcet tones punctuating her expression.
Her doll-like features smoothed a bit, interest apparent as she listened to Delilah name places- ones Odette herself was familiar with- as some that had a lasting impact on her.
"Mmmm, yes. Lilah, I think you and I are well-matched in that regard. It is likely my favorite thing to do. I will admit, though, that I have all but run out of tomes to occupy my time with as I chose to travel light from the Continent. I will have to spend some time searching for a library or book shop, or perhaps visit you at your offices, Dorian. Maybe place an order for something to read.".
Her statement would precede an impish grin at the threat to visit his place of business, and then the tipping of the remaining golden elixir into her waiting lips, emptying her glass as she watched between the siblings.
Returning the goblet to the highly-polished bar top, the slight woman realized the jazz band was winding down, likely for a break, and it was an opportune time for her to take her leave, as well.
"Sadly, I must take my leave for now, but this has been a lovely respite from setting up my cottage.".
Liquid starlight eyes turned upon the golden-haired man, her smile holding something...odd in it as she tipped her head up to peer into his gaze,
"It was a true pleasure. I look forward to next time.".
Pinning Delilah with attention next, the smile was warm, genuine.
"We should have tea and talk books sometime soon, no?".
Dorian clearly tended toward scooching down when he had his druthers, a by-product of ever reaching for a more equal stature with his twin. He was of no great prodigious height like his brother and many men he'd encountered, on this island and abroad; however his stature was solid, athletic, with a capacity for being more formal or imposing than when he was out in the world playing at being a friendly shopkeeper and supervisor. As Lilah had said, his being a poor sleeper with boundless energy lent itself to unloading crates with the men. To diving with them into the shallows. He was reared, like a good drone, to handle the face of the operation, if not the bottom line, nuts and bolts paperwork Drystan usually attended to. Nominally, at least. Each of the foursome had their strengths; Dorian, having attended to logistics in his prior career, some generations back in the royal navy, and being dutiful enough to want to keep his freedom as it was in this newfound place, spent some late nights with books and paperwork too. His least favourite thing, given his mind's native propensity to jumble up words and syntax. Nevermind the morass that numbers were, to rival the war's endless meat-grinding slog
That just didn't often afflict affect for a man who'd lurked and listened for years to find his speech patterns such as they were. And try not to be the family idiot, meanwhile, having not been to every great library this side of pre-Caesarian Alexandria in the west as his siblings had, by Lilah's explanation. Long years had afforded him no small number of books, and his recent departure from the call of cabaret extra time to read them, but he could not help chuffing a little amber-fluid fueled huff as Lilah went on. As Odette had announced her impending departure, he'd further offer, "We have a few books in our little library. As a friend of the family, and fellow native of the other best isle, I invite you to visit us. I think you know Vedis, she can tell you the way. We'd be charmed, and I would love for my siblings to meet you. They're the scholars, afterall. And we always have good tea, a few minutes from ready and the best seasonal preserves. We got in some lovely jars of winter strawberry last week. Catch us soon and there may yet be some left. Until then..."
Again came the courtly bow, the gracious grin, and upon rising, silver eyes set upon the deep dark recesses of hers, "Be ye not a stranger."
Delilah Harper-Windgrace pursed her lips, mind no doubt going to the recent unfortunate incident at the local bookstore. Clearly, Odette had not heard of it, and with the woman making her departure, now didn't seem to be the time to bring it up. Maybe they'd get to the gossip when they met for tea. "Aye, tea an' talk of books wound be just grand. As Dori says, we have a fair few at oor house...Ah must confess, Ah wis no' sae conservative at leavin' ma books behind on th' trip ta Callisto." Offering the woman a playful grin and a wink, she drank back the last of her own wine, setting her glass on the bar top. Following Dorian's formal bow, Lilah stepped forward, moving to take the mysterious woman's hand, if allowed, to kiss her knuckles like some chivalrous literary figure of old. "Until we meet again, Ms. Odette."
Odette di Benedetti would normally have dropped into a small curtsy, but considering where they were it did not feel /quite/ appropriate.
Still holder the ring of her bag in only one hand, she'd lift the other to waggle a wave to both.
Silver and gold.
"Until we meet again.", she echoed, a slip of anticipating slithering up her spine.
Pivoting on a heel, she'd make her way to the entrance, not relishing the idea of climbing a ladder in this dress and heels.
Ahh the price of vanity.
She'd pay it every time.
Dorian grinned at Lilah once the woman in white had taken her leave. He'd venture his glass out to hers to clink her stemware upon the counter as he demurred, "To your ever abounding quintessence of what I think the Italians call sprezzatura." As was not uncommon between them, he envied her the freedom he presumed she possessed, and after downing the end of his cup, carried on, "She was rather lovely, was she not? And you say /she/ knows the house girl? Curious that."
From his viewpoint, he clearly had allocated Odette to the hoi oligoi. And he'd ask another question of near equal importance just after that guess, "Would you dance with me Lilah? I am sure you are an ace partner. Listen to that jive, I can scarce resist any longer..." He gave her big shining moons of puppy eyes to punctuate, holding out a hand to his sister who probably was more accustomed to leading on the floor.
Delilah Harper-Windgrace may have generally displayed an air of easy indifference in most occasions, but she couldn't hold back a playful smirk at her blond sibling's compliment. "Aye, she wis lovely, wisnae she? Ah'm eager ta learn more..." Like why her heart hadn't uttered a sound the entire time she'd been in their presence. Waiting to voice her suspicions of her nature, she instead looked at the offered hand and made some bizarre point between a bow and a curtsy, as if she wanted to offer latter, but was more used to the former. With her free hand, she relieved Dorian of his scotch glass, setting it on the bar before accepting the offered hand and saying with a grin, "Lead on, brother dear."
Dorian took her hand, gentle with pawpads and claws like someone accustomed to handling rabbits, and lead her to the floor, light on his feet, heavily nodding his curly head as he started to count the time on the way. With Lilah in his arms, he admitted to her, "I can see what Drystan found in you, you know?"
Delilah Harper-Windgrace couldn't help but snort a laugh as she easily switched into following Dorian's lead in the dance. "Impeccable style an' a bloodlust ta match his own?"
All Dorian could do was shake his golden head at the answer, because his response to that was to try her athleticism with a deep dip into certain attuned and attenuated arms followed immediately by wild toss into the air. Dance steps had to fill in for pictures sometimes in the number of words they accounted for in his case.