Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

The gala moved along nicely. Wine flowed, people ate the food that Jirelle had prepared. Honestly, the night had gone off without a hitch, and Oliver could not be more proud. Standing on the staircase, a glass half-full with an Eastch, a whiskey from the Settlements, in his hand, he surveyed the crowd. The nobility and their guests had been more than entertained by the crowd, the house pianist playing poppy and upbeat tunes. But now, it was time for Oliver to once again steal the spotlight, or more importantly, to shine it on someone special to him.

Standing on the stairs, he could see every eye in the room. And he needed them all to see him. With a few sharp raps of his ring on the glass, the tinkling noise brought everyone from their own conversations to draw their attention to him. A hush fell over the crowd, and a warm smile spread across Oliver's face like a Scalveen wind.

"Good evening, my lords and ladies. I wish to personally welcome you all to Bellesoir, and I am sure that I have made my rounds and greeted each of you personally. I am Lord Oliver Venora, resident of this estate and the reason for the occasion, though only in name. In truth, I wish to extend my personal gratitude to each of you, as you have all come and shared your time and hard-earned nel for such a good cause. The orphanges in the Kingdom have fallen into quite the disrepair, and though it is only one small step, I think that by enforcing positive change in those areas, we can provide motivation for those who dwell within them to join our society as productive members. That is my hope, anyway."

He paused, allowing a smattering of clapping to go through the crowd. Smiling still, he raised his glass high, prompting many others to do the same.

"Under the eyes of the Seven, I hope that this is a step towards repairing what has been damaged. Cheers." And with that, he titled the glass back and drained the strong spirit, keeping a straight face despite the burning in his throat and chest. Examining the empty glass with amusement, he took a breath and smiled.

"And in the spirit of that... Arcs ago, when I was a lad, I attended a party thrown by my parents in this very hall. And during the course of it, one of my sisters was insulted and humiliated, and I made it my goal to ensure that her pretty face was never stained with tears again. I cannot attest to the totality of my watchfulness, but I am determined to try and uphold that promise here again this night. So, Darcy..."

He scanned the room, black eyes turning steel blue as he observed the crowd. When he fell upon Darcy, he smiled and held his arms out.

"Darcy, I have made quite a few friends in my time, and one of them you know very well. All those arcs ago, he played Merudda's Fifth for the two of us to steal the dancefloor, and through gifts and plying for his attention, I have invited Ser Malero here once again to play Merudda's Fifth. Hearing of your talent as a pianist, though, he insisted that I ask you to play with him..."

Oliver's eyes darted to the piano, where the young Venoran pianist had resigned his position, and in his place sat an aging man with long earlobes and a smile. Dressed smartly, he sat on the bench with his back to the keys, staring out over the crowd to find Darcyanna's face. He held out a richly decorated hand to her, beckoning her to his position. Ser Malero Benderas was one of the most respected musicians in the Kingdom, and was said to play sixteen different instruments at a master's level. The veracity of this was often untested, but Malero was quick to assure any and all of its truth.

"So, Darcy... If you'd accompany Ser Malero... I believe we all would be grateful." He smiled, stepping down the stairs and heading towards Charlie. He may not be able to dance with Darcyanna this time, but he would dance, if the Lady Warrick would grace him.

“So you see, if Venora would allow the Hawthrights a percentage of your blueberry crops, we could partner on the latest venture of our vineyard. Blue wine. Imagine it! People would flock far and wide to have a bottle!” Darcyanna nodded with a polite smile, her eyebrows raising in a false sense of amazement.

“It sounds rather intriguing actually my good Ser, however it’s Oliver you will need to work your silver tongue on.” The older man chuckled, his jowl wobbling with the noise and waggled his bushy eyebrows.

“You play modest my Lady, but everyone knows the way to Oliver Venora’s good graces is through his sister and not his company.” The musician turned a dark indigo stare on the man, her face a mask of cool disapproval.

“If you think me a pawn in your move towards our family assets, you are sorely mistaken Ser Hawthright. I will not fight your business battles, nor will I convince my brother to make a decision to put our name against an average at best vintage—blue or not. The Bluebell Vineyard outshines in my modest opinion, and I—“ Her sharp tyrade was ended before it began as the sound of a ringing of metal on crystal caught her attention. Uttering a short good trial to the slightly put out nobleman, Darcy made her way back to the comfort of Caius’ side. Her patience was on a tight tether, and she could use a break from the incessant chatter. More than once someone had tried to charm her into ‘putting in a good word’ with Oli, and the pianist had had enough.

“Fates...save me before another stuffy old man tries to sell me on his hair brained partnership with Venora.” The blonde sighed close to his ear, taking a glass of moscato from a passing waiter. Looking up at the stairs as the crowd hushed, Darcyanna smiled fondly up at her brother. As always, the dark eyed man commanded the room with his words and his stature. In the eyes of the shorter woman, not even mother and father could do what Oli did. They were lacklustre in the shadow of the Onyx Rose. Ironic really.

As Oliver spoke of the orphanages, the reason for this very gala, the musician joined in the applause with genuine delight. He had not just the business at heart, but the people, and if you didn’t win the people then you were lost regardless of your coin and your contacts.

“Under the eyes of the Seven.” She echoed dutifully, raising her glass and taking a deep drink of the sweet pink beverage. As she lowered her drink, her eyes widened slightly as Oliver mentioned the memory that haunted them both it seemed. This same hall, many arcs ago. Darcy glanced up at Caius with a small smile and a blush. Pythera, the unspoken elephant in the room. Fortunately no one here safe for Oliver, Caius and Charlie knew the truths of the wild sisters torments on Darcy. At least, to her knowledge.

When the taller Venora mentioned her name and made eye contact, the younger woman smiled fondly at him, listening with a dawning realisation. Her smile slowly faded, but her eyes widened, turning from an adoring swirl of blue and lilac to a bright lime green. Putting a hand to her mouth in genuine surprise, Darcyanna gasped as she turned slowly to face the piano, almost disbelieving that Ser Malero was in fact there.

“Oh Fates...” She whispered, moving at the legendary musicians beckoning as though floating on air. Handing her glass to the wait staff, she took the Master Pianists decorated hand with a deep curtsy. Taking a seat beside the man, the pale creature turned to look at Caius with a wide eyed giggle more suited to her ten arc old self, before grinning up at Oliver with sheer delight. All this time, all those arcs, they were blinks of an eye in this moment.

“Shall we?” The older man said quietly, resting his fingers on the keys. Darcyanna looked at him with a nod, moving to place her own with nerves gripping her stomach.

Fates. Seven. Immortals. Anyone. Let me play this flawlessly.

With a mouthed count in, Ser Malero began the beautiful sonata, followed on time and exactly where expected in gentle accompaniment by the Ivory Rose. Her smile was unfaltering, fingers dancing across the black and white of the keys, lime eyes watching both their hands as they played.

Charlie laughed, but even to her ears, it sounded fake. The constant effusive compliments of everything from shoes to nail polish grated on her. As the other women spoke in front of her, Charlie couldn't help but look down at her nails and smile. Darcyanna had done a good job. She took a deep draught of her beer, and it made her feel warm. She could tell that the other women were looking down on her for drinking it - a "poor man's drink", she had heard an Andaris whisper - but Oliver had ordered it especially for her.

Oliver. The thought of his name alone made her smile. They had passed each other like sailing ships throughout the night, barely interacting, but Charlie could feel the stares when they were together. Her cheek still burned from the gentle kiss he had placed on it - and in front of Nathaniel and Velaine, too! They had discussed the night, decided they weren't going to be too obvious, but here he was, claiming her anyway. The thought made her grin. Oliver Venora truly did want her, then.

The tinkling of the glass hushed the girls, and together, they turned towards the noise. There was Oliver. A flush made its way up her neck, as he stood, surveying the crowd, looking over his handiwork. He looked elegant and refined. One of the ladies leaned into her ear. "Nice choice, Charlotte," she giggled, alcohol on her breath. Charlie smiled serenely but said nothing. Yes, she thought. She had made an excellent choice. And he had chosen her in return.

His words were warm and sincere, and Charlie was surprised by the blossoming of pride. Oliver had worked tirelessly, had exhausted himself, and not just because it was expected of him - because he actually cared about his position of influence. Oliver cared what he could do with his wealth and power, and cared that it was used for good. Charlie grinned and clapped with the rest of them, but her eyes stayed focused only on him. She nearly laughed at his expression when he drained the whiskey, but instead sipped her own drink in solidarity.

She knew what was coming next. Oliver had told her, and even before he continued, Charlie sought out Darcyanna in the crowd. Spotting her, warmth blossomed in her chest. The woman looked happy and unsuspecting. She was sober, Charlie knew, and she was so very proud of the progress the young woman was making. And to know what was coming... Charlie couldn't wait.

Darcy gasped, and you could see that it had truly been a surprise. Charlie grinned, catching Oliver's eye as his sister made her way up to the pianist she revered so much. This time, she couldn't hold back her chuckle as Darcy turned to the crowd, catching Caius' eye and giggled. They were a good pair, she thought fondly. He looked after her. Her eyes snapped back to Oliver, and she gasped slightly in surprise as he made his way determinedly over to her.

The music began to swirl, and though Charlie wanted to watch Darcyanna play, she could not look away from the older Venora approaching her through the crowd. The other women fell away as he neared, and Charlie stood stock still, a smile growing on her face. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Charlie grinned.

"You know, I don't think you could ever top this present. Her birthtrial is going to be impossible to shop for now." Charlie grinned, leaning unconsciously closer to Oliver. She couldn't resist him. And she did not want to.

Caius was so very done, and yet the Gala seemed to stretch time in a much less pleasant manner than any all-nighter he'd pulled printing. He would have given much for the quiet retreat of the Gazette or the dusty stacks of the library right about now, but then Darcy's fingers were on his arm and her words tickled the too-warm skin of his neck and he smiled at her, lopsided and full of understanding,

"Oh, trust me, Lady Venora, I'd whisk you right from all of this in a trill if I could, but for now," The young Gawyne's expression bordered on the wicked, "for now, we are still entrenched in our obligations. I promise it will all be better—"

He hushed with the movement on the stairs and the tinkling of glass, biting his lip to keep more suggestive words from leaving his mouth. Listening to Oliver address the crowd, he couldn't help but glance at the faces of both nobility and common folk who'd chosen to make their appearances and wonder how many of them were there for just that—their faces and status—or how many had come for the cause. It wasn't anything he could personally quantify, and, truth be told, this sort of social event wasn't his favorite way of addressing social issues if he had one at all, but the insatiably curious, knowledge-hungry Gawyne truly wished he could read minds on occasion. This was one of them.

Oliver had the boldness to tell a story about his sisters and he let his fingers brush the blonde Venora's for a brief moment as her brother continued to speak. His vantage point was vicinity, and Caius, who was clueless to the surprise, enjoyed watching Darcy's in the moment. He grinned, warmed from the inside out like freshly cast metal type, and he watched with appreciative curiosity as she moved to the piano to join Ser Malero.

Instead of walking to join anyone else, the young Gawyne chose to stay standing alone, shifting only slightly his position in the crowd so that the northern noble had an unobstructed view of Darcyanna and her place at the keys, so that he could watch her face and attempt not to smile too stupidly in return, though her giggling at him ruined any attempt to keep that up. So, ink-stained fingers listlessly traveled over the buttons of the long, House purple velvet jacket he wore, expression of appreciation, admiration, and excitement unfiltered and real.

Despite how much he'd prefer to keep Darcy in view, however, Caius closed his eyes to listen, really listen, for while he considered himself a visual creative, the northern noble had a great appreciation of music and the language it, too, spoke on its own without words.

Admiring her, Oliver's mouth curled upward in an adoring smile. The boldness of the red dress drew many eyes to her, but none more astutely than Lord Venora's. Mischief danced behind his eyes as he held out a soft hand, awaiting her acceptance for a dance. Her words fell on ears thundering with his heartbeat, but he smiled in response, shark-black eyes landing on hers as his voice lowered to a purr. In her ear, she heard his response.

"Perhaps, but this trial, I'm only living for this dance," came the silky words, wrapping around Charlie's eardrums to assuage her fears. Gripping her hand tightly, he spun her and pulled her into him, holding her closely with his left hand on her hip. He was not a great dancer, but he'd been raised to know the etiquette of dance, and he understood how to lead a woman through the steps. And with Charlotte, it was all natural for him, his body taking over in places where his mind would falter. With his hand on her hip, Oliver guided her around, moving in a small space with her, the scent of burning wood and roses mingling to fill her nostrils.

From not far away, Oliver saw Valeria Burhan cozying up to Caius, and he merely smiled. He did not fear for the man's integrity, nor did he wish Darcyanna to spy the slatternly blonde cozying up to the young Gawyne. The sonata was coming along splendidly, and Oliver wished for the music to last forever. Still, though, he could not help but notice Caius' expression as the Burhan joined him, and Oliver chuckled at the thought of the oft-uncomfortable nobleman wedged between that rock and hard place.

"I must say, Charlotte, I am quite happy you deigned to accompany me this evening. I was worried our initial meeting was simply flight of fancy, but the more I see you around this estate, the happier I am that you are." He looked into her eyes, still moving his feet ever-so-slightly to keep with the rhythm set by Darcyanna and Ser Malero. He smiled softly, his face more alight than she'd ever seen it.

"Perhaps I have more than the success of this gala to thank the Seven for," followed the words, and Oliver kissed her forehead and pulled her in to rest her head on his shoulder. And there they stood, dancing, as the music floated around them. It was as if the world had stopped turning, and Oliver and Charlie stood alone against the annals of time. Smiling still, Oliver turned and was facing the piano, with Ser Malero and Darcy's backs to him.

"Arcs ago, this was the song that Darcy and I danced to, but this right here, this moment in time... I wouldn't change this. Ever." He murmured in her ear, and they turned again as the music continued.

They played, by the Seven, they played.

Darcyanna couldn’t stop the smile, even when her eyes closed for a trill or so to appreciate the music that lilted from their fingers. The young pianist could hear the arcs of mastery in Malero’s professional movements, just certain notes or trills on the keys that were just a little less wooden than her own, a little more beautiful. The older man leaned over as they played to whisper in her ear.

“Relax your wrists dear, and your shoulders. Let your entire body become an extension of your fingers. Move with the music, dance across the keys. Here now, you take this bit.” Moving his decorated fingers with practiced ease, the older man gave her free range on the ivories, removing his hands with a smile. Darcyanna shifted, hands spreading to provide more coverage and elbows shifting. She giggled again, looking at the man for a moment, before drowning in the enchanting sonnet.

Every blessed note was a piece of her soul, dragged from her core and bared for the room to see. The blonde moved with the music, her brow furrowing in pleasure, or her head shaking with the emotions of the piece. It spoke to her, spoke for her. Malero was an absolute genius, and his composition was like the warm arms of an old friend, welcoming and warm.

As the stanza rolled near its end, the musician brought his hands back onto the keys, taking over again to play out the finalé.

“Your brother had implied that you were good my dear Lady, but his words didn’t do you justice. You have a natural gift. Maybe with some tutorage, you could become well...the next Malero!” It was said without huberous or humility, just fact. The man was aware he was good, and accepted this as much as one accepted they had blonde hair. Darcy nearly slipped a note in shock, catching herself in time with wide eyes and a stammer.

“Master Malero, I would..it would...it would be an honour.” The Verona breathed, unable to believe her ears. With a nod, the older man seemed to settle it.

“It is done. You will present yourself here every ten trial, on the seventeenth break. No earlier, no later. I will let the university know officially so they can record it against your performance later in the arc.” Darcy simply nodded, in a daze. She could manage that, probably. It was going to be a lot of carriage rides, but at least she would be able to visit Oliver more. The older pianist chuckled to himself, before leading them into the closure of the Fifth.

As the song ended, some may have applauded, but Darcyanna didn’t really notice. She herself applauded, standing with a deep curtsy.

“Now my dear Lady Venora, why don’t you go find that charming young Lord Gawyne that I spotted you with, before some other girl steals him away.” Shooting her a knowing grin, the Master turned back to the piano to play on for the dancers as Darcy looked for a familiar face. She spotted Oliver and Charlie first, moving quickly to intercept them, nodding her thanks to the nobles that congratulated her performance.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Charlie.” She said softly, resting a hand on the stunning brunette’s shoulder before leaning in to kiss Oliver fondly on the cheek.

“Thankyou Oli. Thank you so much.” The younger Venora all but breathed, her life eyes dancing with delight.

Charlie couldn't help the delighted laugh as he took her hand and spun her into his waiting arms. Charlie was by no means a dancer, though she knew the basic steps, but it had been seasons - arcs, even - since anyone had wanted to dance with her, in the way that Oliver wanted to dance with her. She flushed happily, her cheeks matching the red of her dress, as she found herself in his warm arms.

She entwined her fingers with his, and her other hand came up to rest on the Venora's shoulders. Smiling, Charlie let herself be held, and there was very little space between Oliver and herself. "I thought we weren't going to exhibit our relationship," she murmured softly, her eyes locked with Oliver's. "There will be rumours, now." And strangely, Charlie couldn't find that she minded. Seven, did she want this man. And she wanted everyone to know that Oliver was hers.

Swaying with Oliver to the tune that Darcyanna played so delightfully, she took a quick glance around. She could not see Caius, but she watched the way that Darcy's fingers moved elegantly and effortlessly along the ivory keys. A quick smile tugged at her lips. Darcy deserved this moment, and Oliver had given it to her. This, right here, was a good trial.

At his words, she looked up. "I wouldn't be anywhere else, Oliver," she said, warmly, smiling at the man who held her. "I could never have expected this, could never have predicted this, but now that I am here, there is nowhere I would rather be." Warmth bloomed through her chest at the kiss to her forehead, and a happy sigh escaped her lips as she leaned her cheek against his shoulder. They kept turning, and turning, and Charlie could not have been happier.

"Tonight has been wonderful, Oliver," she murmued against his jacket. "And I'm so glad I'm here with you." Swaying to the elegant music that Darcyanna swelled around them, Charlie closed her eyes and smiled. They fluttered open as Darcy approached. She had been so entranced in the dance that she had failed to notice the music had stopped. She stepped back, but only a little, still tucked into Oliver's side.

"You played beautifully, Darcy," she said to her friend. Her heart bloomed as she leaned into kiss Oliver's cheek. The repairing relationship between the siblings made her so happy. Everything about this trial made her happy. Here, between her closest friend she had ever had, and the man she was so fond of, Charlie Warrick was more content than she had ever been.

Caius had closed his eyes with a smile to listen to Darcyanna and Malero play together, and so he was caught off-guard by an unsteady hand curling fingers into his bicep, even if he knew the voice. Blinking, he tilted his head toward Valeria Burhan, offering a thin, cautious smile as she moved to make him her anchor, her arm threading with his,

"Good evening, Lady Burhan." He returned quietly, conflicted by conversation, the blonde Elithem's giggling and louder voice overpowering the music he longed to hear, "I wasn't going to dance. I was just going to listen."

The young Gawyne admitted shyly, feeling her waver against him as she moved to nudge him, and he was quiet for a few bits, smirking. Their friendship had spanned several arcs now, and while he was often made more aware of his weaknesses in her presence than in the company of others, Caius did not at all feel like their history was a detriment to their friendship. It just occasionally made things awkward in conversation or in polite company, given Valeria's level of comfortable, friendly hands.

He sighed, shoulders sagging, bright blue gaze lingering on Darcy while her fingers moved with delicate precision over the piano's keys next to the Master, a private conversation between the pair and the instrument that everyone in the room was barely privileged to hear, let alone fully capable of enjoying entirely. His expression was wistful, distant for a few moments, creative sentimentality fully capable of appreciating beautiful music when he heard it. While he could admit that he was a much more visually-oriented appreciator of the arts, his favored forms of expression including drawing and printmaking, he found the subtleties of musical expression thoughtful and stimulating.

Bogs.

"Just another bit and I'll consider it."

Oliver's eyes were locked onto Charlotte's, the twinkle in them the stunning dazzle of a million stars. So entranced was he that he did not see Darcyanna approaching, and gave a start when she suddenly appeared. Reddening in the face at his surprise and Darcyanna's words, Oliver smiled. He allowed Charlotte to step slightly out of the way, but kept his left hand entwined with Charlotte's right, holding her to ensure she couldn't go far. He wasn't finished adoring her yet.

"Of course, my Lady Venora. What Venora event would be complete without a piano duet between a master and Malero?" He grinned cheekishly, looking over Darcy's shoulder to connect with Master Malero's eyes. The man did not hear the joke, nor would he have laughed if he had, but he gave Oliver a polite nod, a sparkle of admiration in his eye.

When Oliver had approached the man, initially, his response had been 'no'. He did not play for free, especially at a gala in which he should donate money rather than make it. But Oliver's story of that night, arcs ago, inspired the maestro to agree to come, on the grounds that he not be expected to donate. Oliver, naturally, agreed, but he couldn't stop the rumour machine. Of course, most the Seven Duchies, and bogs, probably even Oakleigh, knew that Master Malero was a miser. Still, though, miserly or not, he played piano like a deity, and Darcy's glow made the unpleasantness of haggling over price more than worth it. And to Darcyanna, he'd been a hero for arcs. Oliver couldn't spoil that for her now.

"For you, little sister, the surprise was worth the trouble. You're quite the pianist. Perhaps you'll play my wedding..." And as he said it, he froze, hand stiffening in Charlotte's. Not that he'd said it, but the image that popped into his head was one of he and she standing together before the Seven. Blushing, he chuckled and barreled through. "Whenever that may be." He smiled, squeezing Charlotte's hand.

"I believe, little dove, Charlotte and I will go make another round since the song is finished. Find Caius, and the two of you keep each other from boredom."['/b] The Venoran noble leaned in and kissed her forehead, turning to pull Charlotte away from the crowd. Heading towards a corner of the room, the host stood with his back to it, Charlotte close to him. He kissed her hand and looked back out, surveying all that he had worked so hard for.