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Taengea, as a whole, had a propensity toward melodrama. Some would blame the excess of wine and inclination towards the freeness of mind that produced such fine art. Some bards blamed Dionysus himself for Taengea's way of life, claiming it was his favorite of the realms and that the blessings of his hand still permeated the land.
The rumors, whispers, and overall strangeness that followed the court event in honor of the Egyptian delegation left those involved with a social hangover of sorts. There were questions and speculations that no one seemed bold enough to ask aloud in more than hushed tones or at all, as he witnessed more than one of his noble companions avoid the subject altogether.
In doing so, it seemed as though every conversation turned to the upcoming nuptials between Lady Theodora of Leventi and Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. It seemed a safer subject all around, what with the former being a part of a family Basilides had grown close to and the latter being the son of the most powerful man in Taengea. Of course, it was all that Lady Evelli could think about in the most recent days, and Basilides found himself beckoned often to write to his family on her behalf for whatever may suit the needs of the extravagant affair that Lady Leventi envisioned.
After multiple meetings with the ladies involved in the affair, it was noted that little had been done for Lord Achilleas in preparation for the event. It did not take long for Lady Evelli to introduce Basilides to Lady Myrto and establish an appointed time to allow the groom to make a choice in regard to his mantle for the event.
Upon arriving to Archontikó Mikaelidas, servants assisted the merchant in unloading two trunks from the carriage and escorted him into a small study. The kind Lady Myrto greeted him and thanked him for his assistance and instructed him to wait in the room as help went to fetch her errant son.
Alone in the quiet of the noble's study, Basilides took a moment to admire some of its finer appointments, recognizing a few familiar odds and ends that perhaps his father or his brother Maxios had dealt to the family some time ago. After a moment of idleness, he knelt down to set aside and opened one of the trunks, draping the variety of fabrics over the lids in a merchandising fashion so that the important detailing could be seen.
The second trunk contained a number of fashionable jewelry items, ranging from ostentatious to entirely too demure for an occasion such as this. However, with Basilides having never met the Lord before, he knew the importance of bringing more options than necessary to meetings such as this, so that he could discover the man's tastes and outfit him appropriately.
Hearing footfalls approaching, he set the last of the items just so and stood to his full height, taking a moment to adjust his own knee-length chiton and across the chest himation, clasped with the fibulae of the Merchant's Guild.
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Jul 11, 2019 14:17:53 GMT
Posted In Make A Choice on Jul 11, 2019 14:17:53 GMT
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Taengea, as a whole, had a propensity toward melodrama. Some would blame the excess of wine and inclination towards the freeness of mind that produced such fine art. Some bards blamed Dionysus himself for Taengea's way of life, claiming it was his favorite of the realms and that the blessings of his hand still permeated the land.
The rumors, whispers, and overall strangeness that followed the court event in honor of the Egyptian delegation left those involved with a social hangover of sorts. There were questions and speculations that no one seemed bold enough to ask aloud in more than hushed tones or at all, as he witnessed more than one of his noble companions avoid the subject altogether.
In doing so, it seemed as though every conversation turned to the upcoming nuptials between Lady Theodora of Leventi and Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. It seemed a safer subject all around, what with the former being a part of a family Basilides had grown close to and the latter being the son of the most powerful man in Taengea. Of course, it was all that Lady Evelli could think about in the most recent days, and Basilides found himself beckoned often to write to his family on her behalf for whatever may suit the needs of the extravagant affair that Lady Leventi envisioned.
After multiple meetings with the ladies involved in the affair, it was noted that little had been done for Lord Achilleas in preparation for the event. It did not take long for Lady Evelli to introduce Basilides to Lady Myrto and establish an appointed time to allow the groom to make a choice in regard to his mantle for the event.
Upon arriving to Archontikó Mikaelidas, servants assisted the merchant in unloading two trunks from the carriage and escorted him into a small study. The kind Lady Myrto greeted him and thanked him for his assistance and instructed him to wait in the room as help went to fetch her errant son.
Alone in the quiet of the noble's study, Basilides took a moment to admire some of its finer appointments, recognizing a few familiar odds and ends that perhaps his father or his brother Maxios had dealt to the family some time ago. After a moment of idleness, he knelt down to set aside and opened one of the trunks, draping the variety of fabrics over the lids in a merchandising fashion so that the important detailing could be seen.
The second trunk contained a number of fashionable jewelry items, ranging from ostentatious to entirely too demure for an occasion such as this. However, with Basilides having never met the Lord before, he knew the importance of bringing more options than necessary to meetings such as this, so that he could discover the man's tastes and outfit him appropriately.
Hearing footfalls approaching, he set the last of the items just so and stood to his full height, taking a moment to adjust his own knee-length chiton and across the chest himation, clasped with the fibulae of the Merchant's Guild.
Taengea, as a whole, had a propensity toward melodrama. Some would blame the excess of wine and inclination towards the freeness of mind that produced such fine art. Some bards blamed Dionysus himself for Taengea's way of life, claiming it was his favorite of the realms and that the blessings of his hand still permeated the land.
The rumors, whispers, and overall strangeness that followed the court event in honor of the Egyptian delegation left those involved with a social hangover of sorts. There were questions and speculations that no one seemed bold enough to ask aloud in more than hushed tones or at all, as he witnessed more than one of his noble companions avoid the subject altogether.
In doing so, it seemed as though every conversation turned to the upcoming nuptials between Lady Theodora of Leventi and Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas. It seemed a safer subject all around, what with the former being a part of a family Basilides had grown close to and the latter being the son of the most powerful man in Taengea. Of course, it was all that Lady Evelli could think about in the most recent days, and Basilides found himself beckoned often to write to his family on her behalf for whatever may suit the needs of the extravagant affair that Lady Leventi envisioned.
After multiple meetings with the ladies involved in the affair, it was noted that little had been done for Lord Achilleas in preparation for the event. It did not take long for Lady Evelli to introduce Basilides to Lady Myrto and establish an appointed time to allow the groom to make a choice in regard to his mantle for the event.
Upon arriving to Archontikó Mikaelidas, servants assisted the merchant in unloading two trunks from the carriage and escorted him into a small study. The kind Lady Myrto greeted him and thanked him for his assistance and instructed him to wait in the room as help went to fetch her errant son.
Alone in the quiet of the noble's study, Basilides took a moment to admire some of its finer appointments, recognizing a few familiar odds and ends that perhaps his father or his brother Maxios had dealt to the family some time ago. After a moment of idleness, he knelt down to set aside and opened one of the trunks, draping the variety of fabrics over the lids in a merchandising fashion so that the important detailing could be seen.
The second trunk contained a number of fashionable jewelry items, ranging from ostentatious to entirely too demure for an occasion such as this. However, with Basilides having never met the Lord before, he knew the importance of bringing more options than necessary to meetings such as this, so that he could discover the man's tastes and outfit him appropriately.
Hearing footfalls approaching, he set the last of the items just so and stood to his full height, taking a moment to adjust his own knee-length chiton and across the chest himation, clasped with the fibulae of the Merchant's Guild.
Achilleas thought he had been hiding. Having retreated to a far flung corner of the manor, he had tried to lose himself in a book to while away an hour or so. Safe, he thought, from any further talk of weddings or details or food or flowers or any of the myriad other things he really had little interest in. If Theodora turned up then really he would have been happy at that, having waited long enough for the wedding day to actually happen.
But as was the way of things, the event seemed to have taken on a life of its own, and he was only now really seeing the extent of it, now his mother was back in Vasiliadon there was no stopping her. And whilst before he had longed for the sanctuary of Euttica to be out of the way of his father, now he almost wished for the man’s taciturness. He loved his mother dearly, but by the Gods could she prattle on about weddings. Emilios had an uncanny talent for making himself scarce of late, and without even the excuse of having the barony to attend to -courtesy of his father - there was no buffer between the eldest son and his mother’s enthusiasm.
Which was why Achilleas was less than impressed when his hiding place was revealed to be not very hidden at all, and uncharacteristically for him, he snapped at the servant who had been dispatched to fetch him. Upon meeting his mother in the solar, the man had managed to muster a somewhat strained smile: one that only faltered for a flicker as Myrto explained that there was a luxury merchant waiting in his study to arrange for the wedding attire.
“He is very well thought of by the Leventi family” his mother said, reaching up to pat her son on the shoulder as she sent him on his way. This wedding had a lot of work to do in distracting the populace from the less than stellar events of days past, and neither matriarchs were prepared to overlook any detail that might be a chink in the dazzling armour of opulence and pomp that would mark the occasion.
Achilleas wondered if Theodora felt as harangued as he did in this whole business, or if she were enjoying the fuss and attention. That at least brought a smile to his face, because he could quite well imagine her annoyance at it all. At least they could share that. Pushing open the door into his study, the Lord arrived with little fanfare, though his physical presence was not to be underestimated. Tall, broad shouldered and lean hipped he had the build of a swordsman, and the sculpted features that ran in the Mikaelidas line. Features that made no attempt to disguise his disinterest in this endeavour.
Achilleas cast a glance first over the wares and then the man that offered them, arching one brow.He looked vaguely familiar, had they met before? The Lord could not place him though, so he looked briefly back to the goods. There were so many lengths of fabric and he had no interest in any of them But if nothing else, Achilleas had come to accept that this celebration had very little to do with what he wanted.
“Let's get on with this then” he said shortly, turning to the merchant with a resigned sort of expression upon his face. “What do you have?”
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Jul 11, 2019 18:32:17 GMT
Posted In Make A Choice on Jul 11, 2019 18:32:17 GMT
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Achilleas thought he had been hiding. Having retreated to a far flung corner of the manor, he had tried to lose himself in a book to while away an hour or so. Safe, he thought, from any further talk of weddings or details or food or flowers or any of the myriad other things he really had little interest in. If Theodora turned up then really he would have been happy at that, having waited long enough for the wedding day to actually happen.
But as was the way of things, the event seemed to have taken on a life of its own, and he was only now really seeing the extent of it, now his mother was back in Vasiliadon there was no stopping her. And whilst before he had longed for the sanctuary of Euttica to be out of the way of his father, now he almost wished for the man’s taciturness. He loved his mother dearly, but by the Gods could she prattle on about weddings. Emilios had an uncanny talent for making himself scarce of late, and without even the excuse of having the barony to attend to -courtesy of his father - there was no buffer between the eldest son and his mother’s enthusiasm.
Which was why Achilleas was less than impressed when his hiding place was revealed to be not very hidden at all, and uncharacteristically for him, he snapped at the servant who had been dispatched to fetch him. Upon meeting his mother in the solar, the man had managed to muster a somewhat strained smile: one that only faltered for a flicker as Myrto explained that there was a luxury merchant waiting in his study to arrange for the wedding attire.
“He is very well thought of by the Leventi family” his mother said, reaching up to pat her son on the shoulder as she sent him on his way. This wedding had a lot of work to do in distracting the populace from the less than stellar events of days past, and neither matriarchs were prepared to overlook any detail that might be a chink in the dazzling armour of opulence and pomp that would mark the occasion.
Achilleas wondered if Theodora felt as harangued as he did in this whole business, or if she were enjoying the fuss and attention. That at least brought a smile to his face, because he could quite well imagine her annoyance at it all. At least they could share that. Pushing open the door into his study, the Lord arrived with little fanfare, though his physical presence was not to be underestimated. Tall, broad shouldered and lean hipped he had the build of a swordsman, and the sculpted features that ran in the Mikaelidas line. Features that made no attempt to disguise his disinterest in this endeavour.
Achilleas cast a glance first over the wares and then the man that offered them, arching one brow.He looked vaguely familiar, had they met before? The Lord could not place him though, so he looked briefly back to the goods. There were so many lengths of fabric and he had no interest in any of them But if nothing else, Achilleas had come to accept that this celebration had very little to do with what he wanted.
“Let's get on with this then” he said shortly, turning to the merchant with a resigned sort of expression upon his face. “What do you have?”
Achilleas thought he had been hiding. Having retreated to a far flung corner of the manor, he had tried to lose himself in a book to while away an hour or so. Safe, he thought, from any further talk of weddings or details or food or flowers or any of the myriad other things he really had little interest in. If Theodora turned up then really he would have been happy at that, having waited long enough for the wedding day to actually happen.
But as was the way of things, the event seemed to have taken on a life of its own, and he was only now really seeing the extent of it, now his mother was back in Vasiliadon there was no stopping her. And whilst before he had longed for the sanctuary of Euttica to be out of the way of his father, now he almost wished for the man’s taciturness. He loved his mother dearly, but by the Gods could she prattle on about weddings. Emilios had an uncanny talent for making himself scarce of late, and without even the excuse of having the barony to attend to -courtesy of his father - there was no buffer between the eldest son and his mother’s enthusiasm.
Which was why Achilleas was less than impressed when his hiding place was revealed to be not very hidden at all, and uncharacteristically for him, he snapped at the servant who had been dispatched to fetch him. Upon meeting his mother in the solar, the man had managed to muster a somewhat strained smile: one that only faltered for a flicker as Myrto explained that there was a luxury merchant waiting in his study to arrange for the wedding attire.
“He is very well thought of by the Leventi family” his mother said, reaching up to pat her son on the shoulder as she sent him on his way. This wedding had a lot of work to do in distracting the populace from the less than stellar events of days past, and neither matriarchs were prepared to overlook any detail that might be a chink in the dazzling armour of opulence and pomp that would mark the occasion.
Achilleas wondered if Theodora felt as harangued as he did in this whole business, or if she were enjoying the fuss and attention. That at least brought a smile to his face, because he could quite well imagine her annoyance at it all. At least they could share that. Pushing open the door into his study, the Lord arrived with little fanfare, though his physical presence was not to be underestimated. Tall, broad shouldered and lean hipped he had the build of a swordsman, and the sculpted features that ran in the Mikaelidas line. Features that made no attempt to disguise his disinterest in this endeavour.
Achilleas cast a glance first over the wares and then the man that offered them, arching one brow.He looked vaguely familiar, had they met before? The Lord could not place him though, so he looked briefly back to the goods. There were so many lengths of fabric and he had no interest in any of them But if nothing else, Achilleas had come to accept that this celebration had very little to do with what he wanted.
“Let's get on with this then” he said shortly, turning to the merchant with a resigned sort of expression upon his face. “What do you have?”
Basilides originally intended to take the lavish approach, with a deeper bow and starting in with the idle chatter that most nobles enjoyed, but as soon as he saw the Lord's expression upon entering the study, he had to make an immediate adjustment. In all of this time upon returning to Vasiliádon as a merchant instead of a player, he found himself often in the presence of the noblewomen of Taengea, not often around the noblemen. Clearing his throat as he dipped into a more efficient bow for the man, still offering the appropriate incline for their difference in status.
Introductions did not seem to be happening at this moment, nor did they seem necessary.
"Of course," Basilides responded, giving a brief nod as he gestured toward the first trunk full of fabrics, "Any of these can be used to make a chiton for the occasion in any cut of your preference. Here are some that Ladies Myrto and Evelli suggested to suit the decor, or....I have several options in the Mikaelidas colors. And here, we have any adornments of your choosing...as well as the option to have some customized to your preferences."
As he spoke, Basilides watched the nobleman's expressions, noting the mixture of disinterest and dread as the man looked along the materials placed before him. There was a slight smirk that he could not stop before adding quietly, "Overwhelming, isn't it?"
The merchant eyed the nobleman, hoping that his humor had not put the man off in such a short amount of time. As much as he felt comfortable among those who enjoyed the luxurious life, there was no doubt that his sense of humor came from a common-born origin, always trying to find some sort of quip or thing to say that would keep the mood light. He hoped that being in a position to be personally recommended to offer his services among the nobles was enough to keep him in good graces.
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Jul 11, 2019 19:29:16 GMT
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Basilides originally intended to take the lavish approach, with a deeper bow and starting in with the idle chatter that most nobles enjoyed, but as soon as he saw the Lord's expression upon entering the study, he had to make an immediate adjustment. In all of this time upon returning to Vasiliádon as a merchant instead of a player, he found himself often in the presence of the noblewomen of Taengea, not often around the noblemen. Clearing his throat as he dipped into a more efficient bow for the man, still offering the appropriate incline for their difference in status.
Introductions did not seem to be happening at this moment, nor did they seem necessary.
"Of course," Basilides responded, giving a brief nod as he gestured toward the first trunk full of fabrics, "Any of these can be used to make a chiton for the occasion in any cut of your preference. Here are some that Ladies Myrto and Evelli suggested to suit the decor, or....I have several options in the Mikaelidas colors. And here, we have any adornments of your choosing...as well as the option to have some customized to your preferences."
As he spoke, Basilides watched the nobleman's expressions, noting the mixture of disinterest and dread as the man looked along the materials placed before him. There was a slight smirk that he could not stop before adding quietly, "Overwhelming, isn't it?"
The merchant eyed the nobleman, hoping that his humor had not put the man off in such a short amount of time. As much as he felt comfortable among those who enjoyed the luxurious life, there was no doubt that his sense of humor came from a common-born origin, always trying to find some sort of quip or thing to say that would keep the mood light. He hoped that being in a position to be personally recommended to offer his services among the nobles was enough to keep him in good graces.
Basilides originally intended to take the lavish approach, with a deeper bow and starting in with the idle chatter that most nobles enjoyed, but as soon as he saw the Lord's expression upon entering the study, he had to make an immediate adjustment. In all of this time upon returning to Vasiliádon as a merchant instead of a player, he found himself often in the presence of the noblewomen of Taengea, not often around the noblemen. Clearing his throat as he dipped into a more efficient bow for the man, still offering the appropriate incline for their difference in status.
Introductions did not seem to be happening at this moment, nor did they seem necessary.
"Of course," Basilides responded, giving a brief nod as he gestured toward the first trunk full of fabrics, "Any of these can be used to make a chiton for the occasion in any cut of your preference. Here are some that Ladies Myrto and Evelli suggested to suit the decor, or....I have several options in the Mikaelidas colors. And here, we have any adornments of your choosing...as well as the option to have some customized to your preferences."
As he spoke, Basilides watched the nobleman's expressions, noting the mixture of disinterest and dread as the man looked along the materials placed before him. There was a slight smirk that he could not stop before adding quietly, "Overwhelming, isn't it?"
The merchant eyed the nobleman, hoping that his humor had not put the man off in such a short amount of time. As much as he felt comfortable among those who enjoyed the luxurious life, there was no doubt that his sense of humor came from a common-born origin, always trying to find some sort of quip or thing to say that would keep the mood light. He hoped that being in a position to be personally recommended to offer his services among the nobles was enough to keep him in good graces.
Achilleas had not really given a lot of thought to what he might wear, he realised, as he stared in dismay at the array of fabrics that had been so artfully arranged about his study. It was perhaps why his mother had seen fit to intervene, only as he looked from one silk to another he could almost have wished someone had just given him something, without expecting him to make a decision.
Attire to suit the decor?! The Lord’s expression betrayed his incredulity at such a suggestion, and the merchant seemed to read it well enough, not quite managing to hide the smirk that appeared before his quietly offered words. Achilleas shot him a look.
“That is one way of describing it” he muttered, frowning as he tried to find some sort of direction he might give to the man, who was clearly expecting some. “ Mikaelidas colours” he settled on after a moment, for that at least was something he knew. And it was important he thought to show the strength of the House, even with the gossip that was circulating around them . “And..just make it something fit for a Prince.”
The latter was added with almost a little hesitance, not a familiar feeling for the senator, but warranted perhaps, in the strange position he found himself in. The King had vanished, which meant his father assumed the crown, which left him as the nearest thing to Crown Prince, and yet it is not the way he would have had it. The whole thing was so mired in rumour and speculation that he wasn’t sure the grand plans of his mother and Lady Evelli would even make a dent.
But if nothing else, he knew he would be expected to look the part, and so that was his best shot at instruction to the merchant. He shot a sideways glance at the man next to him, narrowed his gaze a little because he was certain he recognised him from somewhere. “Have we met before?” Achilleas asked furrowing his brow slightly. Perhaps he had seen him at the Leventi manor before now, though he could not be certain. “You are familiar, somehow.”
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Jul 11, 2019 20:14:45 GMT
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Achilleas had not really given a lot of thought to what he might wear, he realised, as he stared in dismay at the array of fabrics that had been so artfully arranged about his study. It was perhaps why his mother had seen fit to intervene, only as he looked from one silk to another he could almost have wished someone had just given him something, without expecting him to make a decision.
Attire to suit the decor?! The Lord’s expression betrayed his incredulity at such a suggestion, and the merchant seemed to read it well enough, not quite managing to hide the smirk that appeared before his quietly offered words. Achilleas shot him a look.
“That is one way of describing it” he muttered, frowning as he tried to find some sort of direction he might give to the man, who was clearly expecting some. “ Mikaelidas colours” he settled on after a moment, for that at least was something he knew. And it was important he thought to show the strength of the House, even with the gossip that was circulating around them . “And..just make it something fit for a Prince.”
The latter was added with almost a little hesitance, not a familiar feeling for the senator, but warranted perhaps, in the strange position he found himself in. The King had vanished, which meant his father assumed the crown, which left him as the nearest thing to Crown Prince, and yet it is not the way he would have had it. The whole thing was so mired in rumour and speculation that he wasn’t sure the grand plans of his mother and Lady Evelli would even make a dent.
But if nothing else, he knew he would be expected to look the part, and so that was his best shot at instruction to the merchant. He shot a sideways glance at the man next to him, narrowed his gaze a little because he was certain he recognised him from somewhere. “Have we met before?” Achilleas asked furrowing his brow slightly. Perhaps he had seen him at the Leventi manor before now, though he could not be certain. “You are familiar, somehow.”
Achilleas had not really given a lot of thought to what he might wear, he realised, as he stared in dismay at the array of fabrics that had been so artfully arranged about his study. It was perhaps why his mother had seen fit to intervene, only as he looked from one silk to another he could almost have wished someone had just given him something, without expecting him to make a decision.
Attire to suit the decor?! The Lord’s expression betrayed his incredulity at such a suggestion, and the merchant seemed to read it well enough, not quite managing to hide the smirk that appeared before his quietly offered words. Achilleas shot him a look.
“That is one way of describing it” he muttered, frowning as he tried to find some sort of direction he might give to the man, who was clearly expecting some. “ Mikaelidas colours” he settled on after a moment, for that at least was something he knew. And it was important he thought to show the strength of the House, even with the gossip that was circulating around them . “And..just make it something fit for a Prince.”
The latter was added with almost a little hesitance, not a familiar feeling for the senator, but warranted perhaps, in the strange position he found himself in. The King had vanished, which meant his father assumed the crown, which left him as the nearest thing to Crown Prince, and yet it is not the way he would have had it. The whole thing was so mired in rumour and speculation that he wasn’t sure the grand plans of his mother and Lady Evelli would even make a dent.
But if nothing else, he knew he would be expected to look the part, and so that was his best shot at instruction to the merchant. He shot a sideways glance at the man next to him, narrowed his gaze a little because he was certain he recognised him from somewhere. “Have we met before?” Achilleas asked furrowing his brow slightly. Perhaps he had seen him at the Leventi manor before now, though he could not be certain. “You are familiar, somehow.”
Basilides did a better job of containing his amusement to a slight flare of the nostril instead of a grin, knowing that most men did not think on terribly many particulars when it came to their dress in the same way women did. It was clear that Lord Achilleas wanted to be anywhere but here, and the merchant felt a bit of mercy for the man as he made his first of likely many decisions for the day - Mikaelidas colors.
"Excellent. If I may," the merchant said as he started to carefully fold the bypassed color options and return them to the case in a way that would leave them creaseless for their next eventual showing. In doing so, he left the remaining colors to suit the Lord, or as he stated with some hesitant, the Prince. This was where life got a little tricky. Yes, he was within such proximity to these events - missing Kings, adjustments of leadership, and more - but whether or not he had the right to have a say in it was an entirely different ordeal. Re-draping the fabric across the lid, now limiting it to three options with a range of designs from extravagant to demure to simply regal, he swallowed a moment, thinking of what to say.
"Are most of your chitons cut in this fashion?" he asked, gesturing towards the man's current apparel, "On the day, you will want to be as comfortable as possible."
Basilides glanced back and forth between the man and the options, placing together a few combinations of fabrics that he tried to envision as chitons and himations, perhaps even a chlamys as they were inching towards the cooler seasons. Laying a few options across one another and stepping back to see, he tilted his head in thought a moment only for it to be straightened at the nobleman's query.
"It's possible, but not for long enough to be considered acquainted. Basilides of Acaris," he said, at last offering an introduction with a humble bow of his head, "My brother, Maxios, was a merchant with ties to the court before returning to Acaris, including for the Dynastiea Leventi. When the Egyptian delegation arrived, I was honored to attend as their guest." He continued speaking as his focus returned to the options before him, taking a slight breath before selecting a combination that he draped over one forearm as he selected the most demure of the headpieces and hung it around his wrist.
"Prior to returning to my family's trade, I was the Producer for the Children of Mnemosyne. The troupe performed in countless festivals across the three kingdoms until recently." Crossing over to the man and extending out his hands with the items, a clear indication for the nobleman to try them on, he added with a smirk, "Or, I could just have one of those faces."
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Jul 12, 2019 14:19:16 GMT
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Basilides did a better job of containing his amusement to a slight flare of the nostril instead of a grin, knowing that most men did not think on terribly many particulars when it came to their dress in the same way women did. It was clear that Lord Achilleas wanted to be anywhere but here, and the merchant felt a bit of mercy for the man as he made his first of likely many decisions for the day - Mikaelidas colors.
"Excellent. If I may," the merchant said as he started to carefully fold the bypassed color options and return them to the case in a way that would leave them creaseless for their next eventual showing. In doing so, he left the remaining colors to suit the Lord, or as he stated with some hesitant, the Prince. This was where life got a little tricky. Yes, he was within such proximity to these events - missing Kings, adjustments of leadership, and more - but whether or not he had the right to have a say in it was an entirely different ordeal. Re-draping the fabric across the lid, now limiting it to three options with a range of designs from extravagant to demure to simply regal, he swallowed a moment, thinking of what to say.
"Are most of your chitons cut in this fashion?" he asked, gesturing towards the man's current apparel, "On the day, you will want to be as comfortable as possible."
Basilides glanced back and forth between the man and the options, placing together a few combinations of fabrics that he tried to envision as chitons and himations, perhaps even a chlamys as they were inching towards the cooler seasons. Laying a few options across one another and stepping back to see, he tilted his head in thought a moment only for it to be straightened at the nobleman's query.
"It's possible, but not for long enough to be considered acquainted. Basilides of Acaris," he said, at last offering an introduction with a humble bow of his head, "My brother, Maxios, was a merchant with ties to the court before returning to Acaris, including for the Dynastiea Leventi. When the Egyptian delegation arrived, I was honored to attend as their guest." He continued speaking as his focus returned to the options before him, taking a slight breath before selecting a combination that he draped over one forearm as he selected the most demure of the headpieces and hung it around his wrist.
"Prior to returning to my family's trade, I was the Producer for the Children of Mnemosyne. The troupe performed in countless festivals across the three kingdoms until recently." Crossing over to the man and extending out his hands with the items, a clear indication for the nobleman to try them on, he added with a smirk, "Or, I could just have one of those faces."
Basilides did a better job of containing his amusement to a slight flare of the nostril instead of a grin, knowing that most men did not think on terribly many particulars when it came to their dress in the same way women did. It was clear that Lord Achilleas wanted to be anywhere but here, and the merchant felt a bit of mercy for the man as he made his first of likely many decisions for the day - Mikaelidas colors.
"Excellent. If I may," the merchant said as he started to carefully fold the bypassed color options and return them to the case in a way that would leave them creaseless for their next eventual showing. In doing so, he left the remaining colors to suit the Lord, or as he stated with some hesitant, the Prince. This was where life got a little tricky. Yes, he was within such proximity to these events - missing Kings, adjustments of leadership, and more - but whether or not he had the right to have a say in it was an entirely different ordeal. Re-draping the fabric across the lid, now limiting it to three options with a range of designs from extravagant to demure to simply regal, he swallowed a moment, thinking of what to say.
"Are most of your chitons cut in this fashion?" he asked, gesturing towards the man's current apparel, "On the day, you will want to be as comfortable as possible."
Basilides glanced back and forth between the man and the options, placing together a few combinations of fabrics that he tried to envision as chitons and himations, perhaps even a chlamys as they were inching towards the cooler seasons. Laying a few options across one another and stepping back to see, he tilted his head in thought a moment only for it to be straightened at the nobleman's query.
"It's possible, but not for long enough to be considered acquainted. Basilides of Acaris," he said, at last offering an introduction with a humble bow of his head, "My brother, Maxios, was a merchant with ties to the court before returning to Acaris, including for the Dynastiea Leventi. When the Egyptian delegation arrived, I was honored to attend as their guest." He continued speaking as his focus returned to the options before him, taking a slight breath before selecting a combination that he draped over one forearm as he selected the most demure of the headpieces and hung it around his wrist.
"Prior to returning to my family's trade, I was the Producer for the Children of Mnemosyne. The troupe performed in countless festivals across the three kingdoms until recently." Crossing over to the man and extending out his hands with the items, a clear indication for the nobleman to try them on, he added with a smirk, "Or, I could just have one of those faces."
Achilleas was not a vain man. That is to say, he did not fret over his attractiveness, nor invest much thought in adorning it. It just was.As far as his attire went, his choices were governed mostly by occasion and expectation over personal preference. When asked the question regarding the cut of his current chiton, the Lord actually glanced down at himself as if he might check. “Oh. Yes probably. But I will go with whatever you think best”. The man was obviously well regarded for a reason and Achilleas did not suddenly think his own expertise in formal attire to surpass that of one who made a livelihood out of it.
He raised his eyebrows at the to-ing and fro-ing of the man, glancing over the fabrics he picked up and set down again, mildly amused by the care that went into such a thing. If this was the level of attention given to his attire, he dreaded to think what chaos had surrounded his betrothed’s outfitting.
And when the merchant answered his question, Achilleas suddenly remembered. Of course, he had been with Nana of Leventi, had borne witness to that shameful squabbling that had left the girl drenched in wine and seen Achilleas himself manhandling the culprits from the event. The Lord was expecting the men to present themselves to him the following day, had yet to decide what was fitting reprimand for their incivility.
But knowing the merchant, Basilides of Acaris as he now knew, had been at the reception had Achilleas pay a little more attention to him. He must be well thought of indeed to be invited as a guest of the Leventi House to a court event.
“No. I know you now” he affirmed, sweeping aside Basildes suggestion that it was just a familiar face. The man had quite a striking face, actually when he paid attention to it. Which he did not.. And in return he offered “Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas”. It was unnecessary, for Achilleas would hope the man knew who he was if were standing in his study, but it seemed only polite.
He stared at the merchant blankly for a moment when he stood before him, before a look of comprehension crossed his features quickly followed by a barely suppressed sigh. “Of course.” It would have been too much to hope that this could be done without having to actually try things.
The Lord had a little modesty, and stripped off the simple chiton he wore with no fanfare, revealing the muscled body of a warrior beneath. His skin was tan, with the faint silver of a scar visible here and there where blade had met flesh. If it seemed incongruous for the Lord to be standing naked in his study, he appeared not perturbed by it, and Achilleas glanced at Basildes expectantly, assuming the man intended to help him with the selection he had made as his own retainer might.
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Achilleas was not a vain man. That is to say, he did not fret over his attractiveness, nor invest much thought in adorning it. It just was.As far as his attire went, his choices were governed mostly by occasion and expectation over personal preference. When asked the question regarding the cut of his current chiton, the Lord actually glanced down at himself as if he might check. “Oh. Yes probably. But I will go with whatever you think best”. The man was obviously well regarded for a reason and Achilleas did not suddenly think his own expertise in formal attire to surpass that of one who made a livelihood out of it.
He raised his eyebrows at the to-ing and fro-ing of the man, glancing over the fabrics he picked up and set down again, mildly amused by the care that went into such a thing. If this was the level of attention given to his attire, he dreaded to think what chaos had surrounded his betrothed’s outfitting.
And when the merchant answered his question, Achilleas suddenly remembered. Of course, he had been with Nana of Leventi, had borne witness to that shameful squabbling that had left the girl drenched in wine and seen Achilleas himself manhandling the culprits from the event. The Lord was expecting the men to present themselves to him the following day, had yet to decide what was fitting reprimand for their incivility.
But knowing the merchant, Basilides of Acaris as he now knew, had been at the reception had Achilleas pay a little more attention to him. He must be well thought of indeed to be invited as a guest of the Leventi House to a court event.
“No. I know you now” he affirmed, sweeping aside Basildes suggestion that it was just a familiar face. The man had quite a striking face, actually when he paid attention to it. Which he did not.. And in return he offered “Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas”. It was unnecessary, for Achilleas would hope the man knew who he was if were standing in his study, but it seemed only polite.
He stared at the merchant blankly for a moment when he stood before him, before a look of comprehension crossed his features quickly followed by a barely suppressed sigh. “Of course.” It would have been too much to hope that this could be done without having to actually try things.
The Lord had a little modesty, and stripped off the simple chiton he wore with no fanfare, revealing the muscled body of a warrior beneath. His skin was tan, with the faint silver of a scar visible here and there where blade had met flesh. If it seemed incongruous for the Lord to be standing naked in his study, he appeared not perturbed by it, and Achilleas glanced at Basildes expectantly, assuming the man intended to help him with the selection he had made as his own retainer might.
Achilleas was not a vain man. That is to say, he did not fret over his attractiveness, nor invest much thought in adorning it. It just was.As far as his attire went, his choices were governed mostly by occasion and expectation over personal preference. When asked the question regarding the cut of his current chiton, the Lord actually glanced down at himself as if he might check. “Oh. Yes probably. But I will go with whatever you think best”. The man was obviously well regarded for a reason and Achilleas did not suddenly think his own expertise in formal attire to surpass that of one who made a livelihood out of it.
He raised his eyebrows at the to-ing and fro-ing of the man, glancing over the fabrics he picked up and set down again, mildly amused by the care that went into such a thing. If this was the level of attention given to his attire, he dreaded to think what chaos had surrounded his betrothed’s outfitting.
And when the merchant answered his question, Achilleas suddenly remembered. Of course, he had been with Nana of Leventi, had borne witness to that shameful squabbling that had left the girl drenched in wine and seen Achilleas himself manhandling the culprits from the event. The Lord was expecting the men to present themselves to him the following day, had yet to decide what was fitting reprimand for their incivility.
But knowing the merchant, Basilides of Acaris as he now knew, had been at the reception had Achilleas pay a little more attention to him. He must be well thought of indeed to be invited as a guest of the Leventi House to a court event.
“No. I know you now” he affirmed, sweeping aside Basildes suggestion that it was just a familiar face. The man had quite a striking face, actually when he paid attention to it. Which he did not.. And in return he offered “Lord Achilleas of Mikaelidas”. It was unnecessary, for Achilleas would hope the man knew who he was if were standing in his study, but it seemed only polite.
He stared at the merchant blankly for a moment when he stood before him, before a look of comprehension crossed his features quickly followed by a barely suppressed sigh. “Of course.” It would have been too much to hope that this could be done without having to actually try things.
The Lord had a little modesty, and stripped off the simple chiton he wore with no fanfare, revealing the muscled body of a warrior beneath. His skin was tan, with the faint silver of a scar visible here and there where blade had met flesh. If it seemed incongruous for the Lord to be standing naked in his study, he appeared not perturbed by it, and Achilleas glanced at Basildes expectantly, assuming the man intended to help him with the selection he had made as his own retainer might.
Basilides felt fortunate that the Leventi family had been so welcoming to him when it came to taking Maxios' place as the source of their many imports, as well as in providing the materials and needs for the wedding. It was a trial by fire, of course, but with swift messengers being sent back and forth to Acaris on a near daily basis, it was the perfect way to get back into the swing of things. Nearly ten years had passed since he had worked for his family, and even then, he was more on the accounting and contracting side. The years with the troupe had given him the insight into the social sphere that he had lacked before, as well as these connections. Not to mention, his family was beyond thrilled that they could clear out a significant portion of the stores in their seaside warehouses, which made room for more materials - perhaps from some new ventures to further away lands.
"I will pass your preferences along to the seamstress who will do the final finishings on the material of your choice," Basilides offered lightly, teasing as he added, "I would probably harm myself more with a needle than I would with a sword."
Once the connection had been made for the Lord as to where he had been seen before, the merchant smiled and offered an appropriate dip of his head to the man's official introduction, which was completely unnecessary yet charming all the same. One of the things he had learned over his time working closely with nobility, between arranging for the performances of the troupes or helping select items from his family's vast inventory, it was that they were also just normal people. They lived and breathed as he did, but simply spoke a different social language. While Basilides would never be 'required' to speak as a noble, it was just another language to learn to ease through communication. Still, humanity had moments of awkwardness threaded through it, and that always made for a good story.
Basilides had started to turn to offer the man some privacy as he offered the materials to try, thinking perhaps out of decency the man would do the same. When Bas heard the material hit the floor, he glanced over his shoulder only to be pinned by an expectancy. Not only that, but Lord Achilleas had already stripped himself down to nothing, standing stoic in the midst of the study like a bronzed statue of Apollo.
Bas may not have moved at all, but he had an immediate physical reaction to the sight before him.
He swallowed hard, then shook his head and offered a small laugh while crossing over to him, "My apologies, yes, of course."
Basilides was no child and no maiden by any stretch of the imagination. The number of naked forms he had seen in his life between his own escapades and the sheer artistic nature of theatre likely outnumbered the clothed forms. There were also the bathhouses and many other locations to see the gods-given form of man and woman, but there were still moments of weakness in his character that created a stir deep within him that was relentless when seeing certain forms.
In this case, Achilleas of Mikaelidas caused that stir within him, and Basilides quietly wanted to curse whichever god did this to him in that moment.
Accepting the material from the bridegroom, he started to drape it appropriately, working very very hard to focus on the material itself and the joining points, not the almost sculpted musculature that it began to cover. He was cautious to give the man an appropriate distance as he pointed out where the man would need to hold the chiton in place until they decided on a fibulae and binding cords. When around the man's back, Basilides took the briefest of moments to adjust the pleating of his own tunic, feeling utterly betrayed by his own body.
Bas cleared his throat a moment as he stepped back, still standing behind Achilleas and gesturing towards a long looking glass, "Of course, we will have it cut to the appropriate length between the knee and the ankle. But how does that feel otherwise?"
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Jul 28, 2019 11:52:54 GMT
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Basilides felt fortunate that the Leventi family had been so welcoming to him when it came to taking Maxios' place as the source of their many imports, as well as in providing the materials and needs for the wedding. It was a trial by fire, of course, but with swift messengers being sent back and forth to Acaris on a near daily basis, it was the perfect way to get back into the swing of things. Nearly ten years had passed since he had worked for his family, and even then, he was more on the accounting and contracting side. The years with the troupe had given him the insight into the social sphere that he had lacked before, as well as these connections. Not to mention, his family was beyond thrilled that they could clear out a significant portion of the stores in their seaside warehouses, which made room for more materials - perhaps from some new ventures to further away lands.
"I will pass your preferences along to the seamstress who will do the final finishings on the material of your choice," Basilides offered lightly, teasing as he added, "I would probably harm myself more with a needle than I would with a sword."
Once the connection had been made for the Lord as to where he had been seen before, the merchant smiled and offered an appropriate dip of his head to the man's official introduction, which was completely unnecessary yet charming all the same. One of the things he had learned over his time working closely with nobility, between arranging for the performances of the troupes or helping select items from his family's vast inventory, it was that they were also just normal people. They lived and breathed as he did, but simply spoke a different social language. While Basilides would never be 'required' to speak as a noble, it was just another language to learn to ease through communication. Still, humanity had moments of awkwardness threaded through it, and that always made for a good story.
Basilides had started to turn to offer the man some privacy as he offered the materials to try, thinking perhaps out of decency the man would do the same. When Bas heard the material hit the floor, he glanced over his shoulder only to be pinned by an expectancy. Not only that, but Lord Achilleas had already stripped himself down to nothing, standing stoic in the midst of the study like a bronzed statue of Apollo.
Bas may not have moved at all, but he had an immediate physical reaction to the sight before him.
He swallowed hard, then shook his head and offered a small laugh while crossing over to him, "My apologies, yes, of course."
Basilides was no child and no maiden by any stretch of the imagination. The number of naked forms he had seen in his life between his own escapades and the sheer artistic nature of theatre likely outnumbered the clothed forms. There were also the bathhouses and many other locations to see the gods-given form of man and woman, but there were still moments of weakness in his character that created a stir deep within him that was relentless when seeing certain forms.
In this case, Achilleas of Mikaelidas caused that stir within him, and Basilides quietly wanted to curse whichever god did this to him in that moment.
Accepting the material from the bridegroom, he started to drape it appropriately, working very very hard to focus on the material itself and the joining points, not the almost sculpted musculature that it began to cover. He was cautious to give the man an appropriate distance as he pointed out where the man would need to hold the chiton in place until they decided on a fibulae and binding cords. When around the man's back, Basilides took the briefest of moments to adjust the pleating of his own tunic, feeling utterly betrayed by his own body.
Bas cleared his throat a moment as he stepped back, still standing behind Achilleas and gesturing towards a long looking glass, "Of course, we will have it cut to the appropriate length between the knee and the ankle. But how does that feel otherwise?"
Basilides felt fortunate that the Leventi family had been so welcoming to him when it came to taking Maxios' place as the source of their many imports, as well as in providing the materials and needs for the wedding. It was a trial by fire, of course, but with swift messengers being sent back and forth to Acaris on a near daily basis, it was the perfect way to get back into the swing of things. Nearly ten years had passed since he had worked for his family, and even then, he was more on the accounting and contracting side. The years with the troupe had given him the insight into the social sphere that he had lacked before, as well as these connections. Not to mention, his family was beyond thrilled that they could clear out a significant portion of the stores in their seaside warehouses, which made room for more materials - perhaps from some new ventures to further away lands.
"I will pass your preferences along to the seamstress who will do the final finishings on the material of your choice," Basilides offered lightly, teasing as he added, "I would probably harm myself more with a needle than I would with a sword."
Once the connection had been made for the Lord as to where he had been seen before, the merchant smiled and offered an appropriate dip of his head to the man's official introduction, which was completely unnecessary yet charming all the same. One of the things he had learned over his time working closely with nobility, between arranging for the performances of the troupes or helping select items from his family's vast inventory, it was that they were also just normal people. They lived and breathed as he did, but simply spoke a different social language. While Basilides would never be 'required' to speak as a noble, it was just another language to learn to ease through communication. Still, humanity had moments of awkwardness threaded through it, and that always made for a good story.
Basilides had started to turn to offer the man some privacy as he offered the materials to try, thinking perhaps out of decency the man would do the same. When Bas heard the material hit the floor, he glanced over his shoulder only to be pinned by an expectancy. Not only that, but Lord Achilleas had already stripped himself down to nothing, standing stoic in the midst of the study like a bronzed statue of Apollo.
Bas may not have moved at all, but he had an immediate physical reaction to the sight before him.
He swallowed hard, then shook his head and offered a small laugh while crossing over to him, "My apologies, yes, of course."
Basilides was no child and no maiden by any stretch of the imagination. The number of naked forms he had seen in his life between his own escapades and the sheer artistic nature of theatre likely outnumbered the clothed forms. There were also the bathhouses and many other locations to see the gods-given form of man and woman, but there were still moments of weakness in his character that created a stir deep within him that was relentless when seeing certain forms.
In this case, Achilleas of Mikaelidas caused that stir within him, and Basilides quietly wanted to curse whichever god did this to him in that moment.
Accepting the material from the bridegroom, he started to drape it appropriately, working very very hard to focus on the material itself and the joining points, not the almost sculpted musculature that it began to cover. He was cautious to give the man an appropriate distance as he pointed out where the man would need to hold the chiton in place until they decided on a fibulae and binding cords. When around the man's back, Basilides took the briefest of moments to adjust the pleating of his own tunic, feeling utterly betrayed by his own body.
Bas cleared his throat a moment as he stepped back, still standing behind Achilleas and gesturing towards a long looking glass, "Of course, we will have it cut to the appropriate length between the knee and the ankle. But how does that feel otherwise?"
There appeared to be a brief moment of miscommunication, Achilleas looking at the merchant with a somewhat bemused expression as he wondered if the fellow thought him about to wrap himself in these lengths of fabric that had been so recommended. It was no different to the task his man servant helped with daily? Only there was a moment, the momentary hesitation of the other man and that small shake of his head that made Achilleas wonder if it were different. And whether he had conjured it all in his head or not, he was suddenly acutely aware of the other man, his proximity. He was not, after all, Petros, the greying man who had served as Achilleas’ retainer since he was not much more than a boy. Petros whom the lord had never even considered outside of the almost familial role that he held.
Basildes of Acaris was a rather different proposition entirely and one that Achilleas had not been anticipating to make a dent in the carefully constructed armour he had built around his own desires, quite some time ago. The Baron was as careful and controlled with those as he endeavoured to be in everything, and for good reason. His was a reputation garnered through keeping his records clean and his love affairs cleaner. Whatever flicker of attraction he might have felt for those of his own gender had never been pursued, barely even acknowledged. Not outside of a brief flirtation in his youth when curiosity had driven him briefly into the arms and bed of a soldier he served under.
Which was why he was so taken off guard by how conscious he was of the merchant’s gaze, of his movements and the almost hesitant way he set about draping the fabric over Achilleas’ own body.The Lord Mikaelidas found himself stealing a glance at the other man as he circled around to wrap the fabric beneath his arm, dark brows drawn together, blue eyes almost wary. His hand bunched the fabric when asked and Achilleas cleared his throat as Basildes moved behind him, unconsciously straightening a little before he dragged his focus to the looking glass.
“It's fine” he replied, thinking he would just rather this were done with quickly. He felt almost uncomfortable now and that irritated him beyond measure. He eyed his reflection critically for some means of distraction.
“It looks well enough?”Achilleas said, the words coming out more of a question than he hoped. To his eyes, it was perfectly adequate, but the Lord knew better than to presume his own assessment would necessarily past muster with those who set store in such things. He tried to imagine how it might look when the material was properly fastened and finished and ended up shrugging and turning to find Basilides a lot closer than he had anticipated so he blinked and drew back. “If you think it suitable then we can just go with that” The lord said, seemingly resolved and itching to be finished. But Achilleas had barely taken a step before he paused and grimaced. “Though I suppose if I wish to avoid three days worth of earache we ought to invite my mother’s opinion too” .
For it would not be worth his life, nor the man across from him if their choices did not pass muster with the Lady Myrto, and Achilleas was not certain he could stomach the fallout should they get it wrong. “You are sure this combination?” Achilleas did not want to summon the woman if there were any chance of it turning into a discussion about how another length might be better, or perhaps the deeper red? So much so that he was willing to endure the strange frisson that the merchant inspired just to ensure they could present a united front.
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Jul 29, 2019 22:24:46 GMT
Posted In Make A Choice on Jul 29, 2019 22:24:46 GMT
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There appeared to be a brief moment of miscommunication, Achilleas looking at the merchant with a somewhat bemused expression as he wondered if the fellow thought him about to wrap himself in these lengths of fabric that had been so recommended. It was no different to the task his man servant helped with daily? Only there was a moment, the momentary hesitation of the other man and that small shake of his head that made Achilleas wonder if it were different. And whether he had conjured it all in his head or not, he was suddenly acutely aware of the other man, his proximity. He was not, after all, Petros, the greying man who had served as Achilleas’ retainer since he was not much more than a boy. Petros whom the lord had never even considered outside of the almost familial role that he held.
Basildes of Acaris was a rather different proposition entirely and one that Achilleas had not been anticipating to make a dent in the carefully constructed armour he had built around his own desires, quite some time ago. The Baron was as careful and controlled with those as he endeavoured to be in everything, and for good reason. His was a reputation garnered through keeping his records clean and his love affairs cleaner. Whatever flicker of attraction he might have felt for those of his own gender had never been pursued, barely even acknowledged. Not outside of a brief flirtation in his youth when curiosity had driven him briefly into the arms and bed of a soldier he served under.
Which was why he was so taken off guard by how conscious he was of the merchant’s gaze, of his movements and the almost hesitant way he set about draping the fabric over Achilleas’ own body.The Lord Mikaelidas found himself stealing a glance at the other man as he circled around to wrap the fabric beneath his arm, dark brows drawn together, blue eyes almost wary. His hand bunched the fabric when asked and Achilleas cleared his throat as Basildes moved behind him, unconsciously straightening a little before he dragged his focus to the looking glass.
“It's fine” he replied, thinking he would just rather this were done with quickly. He felt almost uncomfortable now and that irritated him beyond measure. He eyed his reflection critically for some means of distraction.
“It looks well enough?”Achilleas said, the words coming out more of a question than he hoped. To his eyes, it was perfectly adequate, but the Lord knew better than to presume his own assessment would necessarily past muster with those who set store in such things. He tried to imagine how it might look when the material was properly fastened and finished and ended up shrugging and turning to find Basilides a lot closer than he had anticipated so he blinked and drew back. “If you think it suitable then we can just go with that” The lord said, seemingly resolved and itching to be finished. But Achilleas had barely taken a step before he paused and grimaced. “Though I suppose if I wish to avoid three days worth of earache we ought to invite my mother’s opinion too” .
For it would not be worth his life, nor the man across from him if their choices did not pass muster with the Lady Myrto, and Achilleas was not certain he could stomach the fallout should they get it wrong. “You are sure this combination?” Achilleas did not want to summon the woman if there were any chance of it turning into a discussion about how another length might be better, or perhaps the deeper red? So much so that he was willing to endure the strange frisson that the merchant inspired just to ensure they could present a united front.
There appeared to be a brief moment of miscommunication, Achilleas looking at the merchant with a somewhat bemused expression as he wondered if the fellow thought him about to wrap himself in these lengths of fabric that had been so recommended. It was no different to the task his man servant helped with daily? Only there was a moment, the momentary hesitation of the other man and that small shake of his head that made Achilleas wonder if it were different. And whether he had conjured it all in his head or not, he was suddenly acutely aware of the other man, his proximity. He was not, after all, Petros, the greying man who had served as Achilleas’ retainer since he was not much more than a boy. Petros whom the lord had never even considered outside of the almost familial role that he held.
Basildes of Acaris was a rather different proposition entirely and one that Achilleas had not been anticipating to make a dent in the carefully constructed armour he had built around his own desires, quite some time ago. The Baron was as careful and controlled with those as he endeavoured to be in everything, and for good reason. His was a reputation garnered through keeping his records clean and his love affairs cleaner. Whatever flicker of attraction he might have felt for those of his own gender had never been pursued, barely even acknowledged. Not outside of a brief flirtation in his youth when curiosity had driven him briefly into the arms and bed of a soldier he served under.
Which was why he was so taken off guard by how conscious he was of the merchant’s gaze, of his movements and the almost hesitant way he set about draping the fabric over Achilleas’ own body.The Lord Mikaelidas found himself stealing a glance at the other man as he circled around to wrap the fabric beneath his arm, dark brows drawn together, blue eyes almost wary. His hand bunched the fabric when asked and Achilleas cleared his throat as Basildes moved behind him, unconsciously straightening a little before he dragged his focus to the looking glass.
“It's fine” he replied, thinking he would just rather this were done with quickly. He felt almost uncomfortable now and that irritated him beyond measure. He eyed his reflection critically for some means of distraction.
“It looks well enough?”Achilleas said, the words coming out more of a question than he hoped. To his eyes, it was perfectly adequate, but the Lord knew better than to presume his own assessment would necessarily past muster with those who set store in such things. He tried to imagine how it might look when the material was properly fastened and finished and ended up shrugging and turning to find Basilides a lot closer than he had anticipated so he blinked and drew back. “If you think it suitable then we can just go with that” The lord said, seemingly resolved and itching to be finished. But Achilleas had barely taken a step before he paused and grimaced. “Though I suppose if I wish to avoid three days worth of earache we ought to invite my mother’s opinion too” .
For it would not be worth his life, nor the man across from him if their choices did not pass muster with the Lady Myrto, and Achilleas was not certain he could stomach the fallout should they get it wrong. “You are sure this combination?” Achilleas did not want to summon the woman if there were any chance of it turning into a discussion about how another length might be better, or perhaps the deeper red? So much so that he was willing to endure the strange frisson that the merchant inspired just to ensure they could present a united front.
Basilides had been known to be a rather focused figure among the theatre, not easily distracted and highly intent on accomplishing a goal. It was what made the troupe run efficiently until the end, and what now allowed him the good graces of both Houses Leventi and Mikaelidas. At least, to this point.
It was not that he held shame in his attractions - for all the gods knew that he had enjoyed his fair share of male and female flesh - but that this was highly inconvenient for him at this moment.
Lord Achilleas had to have been molded after Adonis himself. It was unfair.
There was a brief moment, when the merchant feigned thinking through a problem when truly it was a negotiation with the aspects of his body. Think of sad things, a voice in his mind suggested, recalling an old conversation overheard between his brothers when it came to concealing the physical appearance of desire.
Very quickly, he began to preoccupy himself with folding fabrics, even going so far as to unfold and refold some as if considering various combinations. In truth, he was not entirely certain as to what he was doing. At least, it felt as such right now, with his mind in a flurry to distract itself with something, anything other than the form of the man in the room with him.
Thankfully, once Lord Achilleas was clothed, life seemed a slight bit easier and Bas was able to calm his nerves just the slightest bit as he heard the man's...query? The merchant could not help but smirk slightly at the idea. It was much easier to slip into the persona of placating and flattery, which also served as it's own distraction from his body's urges.
Hearing the man's concern through his veiled words, Bas simply nodded and his hands went to work laying out a few different colors across some more neutral fabrics, including deeper and brighter varieties of red. It seemed gold was to be the color to compliment such an outfit, regardless.
"A moment, please," he stated, as he put together a few final combinations across a large chaise lounge in the room. Deftly selecting a few golden pieces, including a rather ornate yet malleable ivy upper-arm cuff, along with various golden hairpieces and such, he laid them out.
"I've narrowed it down a bit. You have the himiaton on now, plus a shade lighter and a shade darker," he stated, pointing to each option, "I think the darker will make a more stark appearance against your chiton of choice, but you would need more of the gold accent to balance it out." He demonstrated by placing a few of the gold pieces on the darker draped fabric.
"In short, it would be a dark red and more ornamentation or the lighter red with less ornamentation," he offered, simplifying matters. From his assessment so far, that seemed to be the way the man preferred such things. "The style of the chiton and the wear of the himation are rather decided. It just depends on how you wish to feel at this most important of occasions."
He paused a moment, with his arms crossed, letting the man consider, before leaning in slightly and murmuring as a post script, "Or, we could call the whole thing off and let the Lady of the household decide. They do love to do so, I find."
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Aug 24, 2019 22:13:57 GMT
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Basilides had been known to be a rather focused figure among the theatre, not easily distracted and highly intent on accomplishing a goal. It was what made the troupe run efficiently until the end, and what now allowed him the good graces of both Houses Leventi and Mikaelidas. At least, to this point.
It was not that he held shame in his attractions - for all the gods knew that he had enjoyed his fair share of male and female flesh - but that this was highly inconvenient for him at this moment.
Lord Achilleas had to have been molded after Adonis himself. It was unfair.
There was a brief moment, when the merchant feigned thinking through a problem when truly it was a negotiation with the aspects of his body. Think of sad things, a voice in his mind suggested, recalling an old conversation overheard between his brothers when it came to concealing the physical appearance of desire.
Very quickly, he began to preoccupy himself with folding fabrics, even going so far as to unfold and refold some as if considering various combinations. In truth, he was not entirely certain as to what he was doing. At least, it felt as such right now, with his mind in a flurry to distract itself with something, anything other than the form of the man in the room with him.
Thankfully, once Lord Achilleas was clothed, life seemed a slight bit easier and Bas was able to calm his nerves just the slightest bit as he heard the man's...query? The merchant could not help but smirk slightly at the idea. It was much easier to slip into the persona of placating and flattery, which also served as it's own distraction from his body's urges.
Hearing the man's concern through his veiled words, Bas simply nodded and his hands went to work laying out a few different colors across some more neutral fabrics, including deeper and brighter varieties of red. It seemed gold was to be the color to compliment such an outfit, regardless.
"A moment, please," he stated, as he put together a few final combinations across a large chaise lounge in the room. Deftly selecting a few golden pieces, including a rather ornate yet malleable ivy upper-arm cuff, along with various golden hairpieces and such, he laid them out.
"I've narrowed it down a bit. You have the himiaton on now, plus a shade lighter and a shade darker," he stated, pointing to each option, "I think the darker will make a more stark appearance against your chiton of choice, but you would need more of the gold accent to balance it out." He demonstrated by placing a few of the gold pieces on the darker draped fabric.
"In short, it would be a dark red and more ornamentation or the lighter red with less ornamentation," he offered, simplifying matters. From his assessment so far, that seemed to be the way the man preferred such things. "The style of the chiton and the wear of the himation are rather decided. It just depends on how you wish to feel at this most important of occasions."
He paused a moment, with his arms crossed, letting the man consider, before leaning in slightly and murmuring as a post script, "Or, we could call the whole thing off and let the Lady of the household decide. They do love to do so, I find."
Basilides had been known to be a rather focused figure among the theatre, not easily distracted and highly intent on accomplishing a goal. It was what made the troupe run efficiently until the end, and what now allowed him the good graces of both Houses Leventi and Mikaelidas. At least, to this point.
It was not that he held shame in his attractions - for all the gods knew that he had enjoyed his fair share of male and female flesh - but that this was highly inconvenient for him at this moment.
Lord Achilleas had to have been molded after Adonis himself. It was unfair.
There was a brief moment, when the merchant feigned thinking through a problem when truly it was a negotiation with the aspects of his body. Think of sad things, a voice in his mind suggested, recalling an old conversation overheard between his brothers when it came to concealing the physical appearance of desire.
Very quickly, he began to preoccupy himself with folding fabrics, even going so far as to unfold and refold some as if considering various combinations. In truth, he was not entirely certain as to what he was doing. At least, it felt as such right now, with his mind in a flurry to distract itself with something, anything other than the form of the man in the room with him.
Thankfully, once Lord Achilleas was clothed, life seemed a slight bit easier and Bas was able to calm his nerves just the slightest bit as he heard the man's...query? The merchant could not help but smirk slightly at the idea. It was much easier to slip into the persona of placating and flattery, which also served as it's own distraction from his body's urges.
Hearing the man's concern through his veiled words, Bas simply nodded and his hands went to work laying out a few different colors across some more neutral fabrics, including deeper and brighter varieties of red. It seemed gold was to be the color to compliment such an outfit, regardless.
"A moment, please," he stated, as he put together a few final combinations across a large chaise lounge in the room. Deftly selecting a few golden pieces, including a rather ornate yet malleable ivy upper-arm cuff, along with various golden hairpieces and such, he laid them out.
"I've narrowed it down a bit. You have the himiaton on now, plus a shade lighter and a shade darker," he stated, pointing to each option, "I think the darker will make a more stark appearance against your chiton of choice, but you would need more of the gold accent to balance it out." He demonstrated by placing a few of the gold pieces on the darker draped fabric.
"In short, it would be a dark red and more ornamentation or the lighter red with less ornamentation," he offered, simplifying matters. From his assessment so far, that seemed to be the way the man preferred such things. "The style of the chiton and the wear of the himation are rather decided. It just depends on how you wish to feel at this most important of occasions."
He paused a moment, with his arms crossed, letting the man consider, before leaning in slightly and murmuring as a post script, "Or, we could call the whole thing off and let the Lady of the household decide. They do love to do so, I find."
Achilleas watched Basildes for a moment in the looking glass as the man moved and begun faffing with the different lengths of fabric again, before he gave the tiniest shake of his head and surveyed his attire again. Emilios was better suited to this preening he thought irritably, really finding it difficult to summon much care as to the precise shade of red. But as the man had gone to the effort of laying them all out, the lord turned, folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the subtly varied options. There was the lift of a dark brow at Bas’s words, and Achilleas thought about it for about half a second. “Less ornamentation then” The last thing he wanted was to spend the day dripping gold like one of the Egyptians.
And at the question as to how he would like to feel on his wedding day, the man threw a bewildered look toward the merchant. “ I would like to feel like myself” he muttered. “I appreciate the need for some formality, but nothing too overblown. I am quite certain there will be enough ostentatiousness going on elsewhere”
He cringed at the memory of the temple tour that presented itself suddenly, and those unfortunate litters that he and Theo had been paraded around in. Achilleas realised he should be grateful to escape that treatment again. Perhaps he shouldn’t complain about a clothes fitting after all.
Some of the man’s rather rigid demeanour softened then as Basildes leant in with his next suggestion, and the lord laughed. “Oh you would think so” he said, with more than a hint of despair creeping into his voice. “But you cannot imagine how difficult my mother has found making a decision of late. Apparently my input is essential on most everything. Did you know that there are different meanings associated with certain flowers? So it is not just about colour - because I care so much about that anyway - but also what is being symbolised” He blew out a breath, it was the smallest things that were sometimes that one thing too much, and Achilleas had been feeling under a lot of pressure. Being out of favour with his father, the mess concerning his cousin that he was still trying to unravel. And though he would not admit, a few moments of reservation about the upcoming nuptials. It was a little overwhelming.
He looked almost surprised at his own candor and shot the merchant a look before composing himself once more. “But you will forgive me. I am indiscreet. I am certain my comprehension of the complexity of weddings leaves much to be desired.” The lord sounded as if had convinced himself, and he visibly drew himself together, adopting a more serene countenance as he moved toward the door.
“You are hovering out there I am certain, my good Mother. Come and give your opinions on these things” He moved back to stand before the glass, and the scant moments before the Lady Myrto appeared suggested that Achilleas’ assumption had been correct. He met Basildes gaze in the reflection with the edge of a smile threatening.
“What do you think?” the lord said then, turning towards his mother. “It is this, or one of those.”
The Lady ran a critical eye over the material, reached out to rub an edge of it between her fingers before letting her hand fall back, apparently satisfied. “The darker is closest to the Mikaelidas red” she observed, turning to Basildes. “Would you not say so, sir?”
She did not see her son’s suppressed sigh as he resigned himself to all the ornamentation the shade apparently required, but instead laid her hand briefly upon his shoulder, smiling at his reflection. “That will do nicely, Achilleas. Hardly so onerous was it?”
There was a tight lipped smile from the Mikaelidas lord that slipped when Lady Myrto left the room, and Achilleas turned to look again at the items Basildes had laid out to accompany the deeper red. He moved over to pick up one of the pieces and turned it over in his hands. “All of this?” came the last hope of one already defeated.
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Aug 28, 2019 21:22:22 GMT
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Achilleas watched Basildes for a moment in the looking glass as the man moved and begun faffing with the different lengths of fabric again, before he gave the tiniest shake of his head and surveyed his attire again. Emilios was better suited to this preening he thought irritably, really finding it difficult to summon much care as to the precise shade of red. But as the man had gone to the effort of laying them all out, the lord turned, folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the subtly varied options. There was the lift of a dark brow at Bas’s words, and Achilleas thought about it for about half a second. “Less ornamentation then” The last thing he wanted was to spend the day dripping gold like one of the Egyptians.
And at the question as to how he would like to feel on his wedding day, the man threw a bewildered look toward the merchant. “ I would like to feel like myself” he muttered. “I appreciate the need for some formality, but nothing too overblown. I am quite certain there will be enough ostentatiousness going on elsewhere”
He cringed at the memory of the temple tour that presented itself suddenly, and those unfortunate litters that he and Theo had been paraded around in. Achilleas realised he should be grateful to escape that treatment again. Perhaps he shouldn’t complain about a clothes fitting after all.
Some of the man’s rather rigid demeanour softened then as Basildes leant in with his next suggestion, and the lord laughed. “Oh you would think so” he said, with more than a hint of despair creeping into his voice. “But you cannot imagine how difficult my mother has found making a decision of late. Apparently my input is essential on most everything. Did you know that there are different meanings associated with certain flowers? So it is not just about colour - because I care so much about that anyway - but also what is being symbolised” He blew out a breath, it was the smallest things that were sometimes that one thing too much, and Achilleas had been feeling under a lot of pressure. Being out of favour with his father, the mess concerning his cousin that he was still trying to unravel. And though he would not admit, a few moments of reservation about the upcoming nuptials. It was a little overwhelming.
He looked almost surprised at his own candor and shot the merchant a look before composing himself once more. “But you will forgive me. I am indiscreet. I am certain my comprehension of the complexity of weddings leaves much to be desired.” The lord sounded as if had convinced himself, and he visibly drew himself together, adopting a more serene countenance as he moved toward the door.
“You are hovering out there I am certain, my good Mother. Come and give your opinions on these things” He moved back to stand before the glass, and the scant moments before the Lady Myrto appeared suggested that Achilleas’ assumption had been correct. He met Basildes gaze in the reflection with the edge of a smile threatening.
“What do you think?” the lord said then, turning towards his mother. “It is this, or one of those.”
The Lady ran a critical eye over the material, reached out to rub an edge of it between her fingers before letting her hand fall back, apparently satisfied. “The darker is closest to the Mikaelidas red” she observed, turning to Basildes. “Would you not say so, sir?”
She did not see her son’s suppressed sigh as he resigned himself to all the ornamentation the shade apparently required, but instead laid her hand briefly upon his shoulder, smiling at his reflection. “That will do nicely, Achilleas. Hardly so onerous was it?”
There was a tight lipped smile from the Mikaelidas lord that slipped when Lady Myrto left the room, and Achilleas turned to look again at the items Basildes had laid out to accompany the deeper red. He moved over to pick up one of the pieces and turned it over in his hands. “All of this?” came the last hope of one already defeated.
Achilleas watched Basildes for a moment in the looking glass as the man moved and begun faffing with the different lengths of fabric again, before he gave the tiniest shake of his head and surveyed his attire again. Emilios was better suited to this preening he thought irritably, really finding it difficult to summon much care as to the precise shade of red. But as the man had gone to the effort of laying them all out, the lord turned, folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the subtly varied options. There was the lift of a dark brow at Bas’s words, and Achilleas thought about it for about half a second. “Less ornamentation then” The last thing he wanted was to spend the day dripping gold like one of the Egyptians.
And at the question as to how he would like to feel on his wedding day, the man threw a bewildered look toward the merchant. “ I would like to feel like myself” he muttered. “I appreciate the need for some formality, but nothing too overblown. I am quite certain there will be enough ostentatiousness going on elsewhere”
He cringed at the memory of the temple tour that presented itself suddenly, and those unfortunate litters that he and Theo had been paraded around in. Achilleas realised he should be grateful to escape that treatment again. Perhaps he shouldn’t complain about a clothes fitting after all.
Some of the man’s rather rigid demeanour softened then as Basildes leant in with his next suggestion, and the lord laughed. “Oh you would think so” he said, with more than a hint of despair creeping into his voice. “But you cannot imagine how difficult my mother has found making a decision of late. Apparently my input is essential on most everything. Did you know that there are different meanings associated with certain flowers? So it is not just about colour - because I care so much about that anyway - but also what is being symbolised” He blew out a breath, it was the smallest things that were sometimes that one thing too much, and Achilleas had been feeling under a lot of pressure. Being out of favour with his father, the mess concerning his cousin that he was still trying to unravel. And though he would not admit, a few moments of reservation about the upcoming nuptials. It was a little overwhelming.
He looked almost surprised at his own candor and shot the merchant a look before composing himself once more. “But you will forgive me. I am indiscreet. I am certain my comprehension of the complexity of weddings leaves much to be desired.” The lord sounded as if had convinced himself, and he visibly drew himself together, adopting a more serene countenance as he moved toward the door.
“You are hovering out there I am certain, my good Mother. Come and give your opinions on these things” He moved back to stand before the glass, and the scant moments before the Lady Myrto appeared suggested that Achilleas’ assumption had been correct. He met Basildes gaze in the reflection with the edge of a smile threatening.
“What do you think?” the lord said then, turning towards his mother. “It is this, or one of those.”
The Lady ran a critical eye over the material, reached out to rub an edge of it between her fingers before letting her hand fall back, apparently satisfied. “The darker is closest to the Mikaelidas red” she observed, turning to Basildes. “Would you not say so, sir?”
She did not see her son’s suppressed sigh as he resigned himself to all the ornamentation the shade apparently required, but instead laid her hand briefly upon his shoulder, smiling at his reflection. “That will do nicely, Achilleas. Hardly so onerous was it?”
There was a tight lipped smile from the Mikaelidas lord that slipped when Lady Myrto left the room, and Achilleas turned to look again at the items Basildes had laid out to accompany the deeper red. He moved over to pick up one of the pieces and turned it over in his hands. “All of this?” came the last hope of one already defeated.
For a man who was now second in line to the throne of Taengea, Basilides could not help but find some amusement in the indecision that plagued the man over such a thing as choosing an outfit. Even by comparison to some of the costumes created for the Children of Mnemosyne's productions, these were rather simplistic - aiming more towards regal than performance. Still, it took more effort to crack the veneer of Basilides' expression than most, and his face held relatively neutral for quite some time as Lord Achilleas formed an opinion.
Then, as Basilides offered for Lady Myrto to make the choice, his veneer curled into a slightly suppressed smile as the Crown Prince of Taengea went on for a moment about the various meanings of flowers and other sort of decorum used for marriage. A slight snort of a laugh escaped him as the man rounded out his mild rant about the flowers and he did his best to try to cover it with his mouth, but it was too late now.
As the man paused and collected himself, commenting on Basilides apparent 'knowledge' of weddings, a true laugh escaped the merchant which he tried to temper down into something milder.
"Oh, no, no, My Lord. I assure you I am just as ignorant to the idea of marriage and weddings as you are," he offered, waving a hand as if to flick the mere mention of marriage away from him like a mayfly. "The only weddings I have seen were a part of performances with the Children of Mnemosyne, for whom I used to work. I am a professed and committed bachelor and shall always remain so, it would seem. Only the knowledge of logistics and the minor acquaintance with a decent costume are in my favor in this, along with the good fortune of my family's name and business."
With a sly smile he added, "But, I will have you know, My Lord, that this is the very first I'm hearing of flowers having their own language. Fascinating."
Lord Achilleas seemed resigned to having his mother choose the outfit for the occasion, which seemed to have been the wisest choice in all of this up to this point. Resetting his expression to that of 'humble and obedient servant' and offered the bow appropriate to the difference in station.
The two noble made exchanges, with Basilides offering a wordless and non-committal nod as they finally parted. As soon as the Lady's back was turned to them, the merchant let the smallest fidget of a smirk escape from his face before taking a breath to recompose himself when he made eyecontact with Lord Achilleas.
The poor man was in agony, and yet Basilides found amusement in it all. He would need to repent for this schadenfreude and he knew just the thing.
"Not necessarily," Basilides chimed cooly, only the tiniest lilt of amusement tickling his voice. He held up a brief finger as if to ask for a moment, before he rifled his hand down beneath the layered fabrics within the trunk. From the depths of the trunk, he pulled out a blown glass bottle of wine, from a small yet exclusive family vineyard near his home in Acaris. There was a slight smirk as he lifted it and gestured towards the small pewter goblets on a nearby shelf.
"If I may...perhaps this would help in making the final selections?"
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Sept 14, 2019 20:11:27 GMT
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For a man who was now second in line to the throne of Taengea, Basilides could not help but find some amusement in the indecision that plagued the man over such a thing as choosing an outfit. Even by comparison to some of the costumes created for the Children of Mnemosyne's productions, these were rather simplistic - aiming more towards regal than performance. Still, it took more effort to crack the veneer of Basilides' expression than most, and his face held relatively neutral for quite some time as Lord Achilleas formed an opinion.
Then, as Basilides offered for Lady Myrto to make the choice, his veneer curled into a slightly suppressed smile as the Crown Prince of Taengea went on for a moment about the various meanings of flowers and other sort of decorum used for marriage. A slight snort of a laugh escaped him as the man rounded out his mild rant about the flowers and he did his best to try to cover it with his mouth, but it was too late now.
As the man paused and collected himself, commenting on Basilides apparent 'knowledge' of weddings, a true laugh escaped the merchant which he tried to temper down into something milder.
"Oh, no, no, My Lord. I assure you I am just as ignorant to the idea of marriage and weddings as you are," he offered, waving a hand as if to flick the mere mention of marriage away from him like a mayfly. "The only weddings I have seen were a part of performances with the Children of Mnemosyne, for whom I used to work. I am a professed and committed bachelor and shall always remain so, it would seem. Only the knowledge of logistics and the minor acquaintance with a decent costume are in my favor in this, along with the good fortune of my family's name and business."
With a sly smile he added, "But, I will have you know, My Lord, that this is the very first I'm hearing of flowers having their own language. Fascinating."
Lord Achilleas seemed resigned to having his mother choose the outfit for the occasion, which seemed to have been the wisest choice in all of this up to this point. Resetting his expression to that of 'humble and obedient servant' and offered the bow appropriate to the difference in station.
The two noble made exchanges, with Basilides offering a wordless and non-committal nod as they finally parted. As soon as the Lady's back was turned to them, the merchant let the smallest fidget of a smirk escape from his face before taking a breath to recompose himself when he made eyecontact with Lord Achilleas.
The poor man was in agony, and yet Basilides found amusement in it all. He would need to repent for this schadenfreude and he knew just the thing.
"Not necessarily," Basilides chimed cooly, only the tiniest lilt of amusement tickling his voice. He held up a brief finger as if to ask for a moment, before he rifled his hand down beneath the layered fabrics within the trunk. From the depths of the trunk, he pulled out a blown glass bottle of wine, from a small yet exclusive family vineyard near his home in Acaris. There was a slight smirk as he lifted it and gestured towards the small pewter goblets on a nearby shelf.
"If I may...perhaps this would help in making the final selections?"
For a man who was now second in line to the throne of Taengea, Basilides could not help but find some amusement in the indecision that plagued the man over such a thing as choosing an outfit. Even by comparison to some of the costumes created for the Children of Mnemosyne's productions, these were rather simplistic - aiming more towards regal than performance. Still, it took more effort to crack the veneer of Basilides' expression than most, and his face held relatively neutral for quite some time as Lord Achilleas formed an opinion.
Then, as Basilides offered for Lady Myrto to make the choice, his veneer curled into a slightly suppressed smile as the Crown Prince of Taengea went on for a moment about the various meanings of flowers and other sort of decorum used for marriage. A slight snort of a laugh escaped him as the man rounded out his mild rant about the flowers and he did his best to try to cover it with his mouth, but it was too late now.
As the man paused and collected himself, commenting on Basilides apparent 'knowledge' of weddings, a true laugh escaped the merchant which he tried to temper down into something milder.
"Oh, no, no, My Lord. I assure you I am just as ignorant to the idea of marriage and weddings as you are," he offered, waving a hand as if to flick the mere mention of marriage away from him like a mayfly. "The only weddings I have seen were a part of performances with the Children of Mnemosyne, for whom I used to work. I am a professed and committed bachelor and shall always remain so, it would seem. Only the knowledge of logistics and the minor acquaintance with a decent costume are in my favor in this, along with the good fortune of my family's name and business."
With a sly smile he added, "But, I will have you know, My Lord, that this is the very first I'm hearing of flowers having their own language. Fascinating."
Lord Achilleas seemed resigned to having his mother choose the outfit for the occasion, which seemed to have been the wisest choice in all of this up to this point. Resetting his expression to that of 'humble and obedient servant' and offered the bow appropriate to the difference in station.
The two noble made exchanges, with Basilides offering a wordless and non-committal nod as they finally parted. As soon as the Lady's back was turned to them, the merchant let the smallest fidget of a smirk escape from his face before taking a breath to recompose himself when he made eyecontact with Lord Achilleas.
The poor man was in agony, and yet Basilides found amusement in it all. He would need to repent for this schadenfreude and he knew just the thing.
"Not necessarily," Basilides chimed cooly, only the tiniest lilt of amusement tickling his voice. He held up a brief finger as if to ask for a moment, before he rifled his hand down beneath the layered fabrics within the trunk. From the depths of the trunk, he pulled out a blown glass bottle of wine, from a small yet exclusive family vineyard near his home in Acaris. There was a slight smirk as he lifted it and gestured towards the small pewter goblets on a nearby shelf.
"If I may...perhaps this would help in making the final selections?"
Achilleas would have been mortified if he could have read the man’s thoughts. To be considered as somehow invested in whatever he wore was not how he would have chosen to be regarded. And indecisiveness too was hardly a trait to be celebrated, but he could at least argue that it was in a sphere of no interest to him, and of very little real consequence.
At least in his eyes.
The lord was, however, not so naive as to discount the import other people would set upon such choices, and really, with all that was taking up his thoughts as it stood, he just wanted an easy life. There was the briefest of moments where the merchant’s assurances of a life as an established bachelor stirred a hint of longing. If nothing else, the past months had seen him discover the complications of being anything but, and now, on the brink of becoming a married man, perhaps there were nerves taking hold where he had not expected any.
Theodora after all, had been somewhat of a fascination for him for a long time: a spark that had not been extinguished and that now would be given chance to take light. He should be excited, and glad. And for the most part, he was. It was only that they had spent as much time disagreeing about things as they had agreeing over the past weeks, and that Achilleas had realised he really didn't understand the way her mind worked. A concern that fueled his unexpected rant about floral decorations. He spared only a long suffering look for Basildes as he moved to admit the Lady Myrto, the “Fascinating it isnot” said with some conviction before he smoothed his expression to greet his mother.
When the good Lady had passed judgement, sparing a satisfied smile for the merchant who was every bit as good as Evelli had promised, the two men were left alone again. One wrestling with amusement, the other wearing a resigned sort of misery upon his face. Achilleas turned to face the merchant, hands on hips making his broad shoulders seem even more so, an apprehensive cast to his features as he wondered what other ‘essentials’ Basildes could possibly have to add. The relief when the merchant produced the glass bottle was almost comical. And yet still, the quasi prince hesitated.
He was not usually a big drinker. Achilleas generally disliked the way in which it fogged ones senses. He liked to be in control of his responses and alcohol only impeded his ability to do so. That being said, he had found himself with cup in hand more often over the past weeks and it seemed churlish to refuse the man’s offer. With the arch of a brow, he took the couple of steps needed to retrieve the cups from the shelf and moved toward Bas with them in hand
“Do you find many of your patrons in need of such help?” he asked with a curious look at the other man. “Or, is it for your own use when you cannot bear such indecision?”
He could well imagine how his own patience would wear thin in such employ, but them it was hardly his area of interest. And he realised that the merchant had made more than one reference to another occupation, so perhaps this was not truly his, either. And as he stood before the merchant, the Lord glanced down at the crudely wrapped fabric that still adorned him and then lifted his gaze to the other. “ We are done with this are we not?”
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Sept 17, 2019 10:23:51 GMT
Posted In Make A Choice on Sept 17, 2019 10:23:51 GMT
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Achilleas would have been mortified if he could have read the man’s thoughts. To be considered as somehow invested in whatever he wore was not how he would have chosen to be regarded. And indecisiveness too was hardly a trait to be celebrated, but he could at least argue that it was in a sphere of no interest to him, and of very little real consequence.
At least in his eyes.
The lord was, however, not so naive as to discount the import other people would set upon such choices, and really, with all that was taking up his thoughts as it stood, he just wanted an easy life. There was the briefest of moments where the merchant’s assurances of a life as an established bachelor stirred a hint of longing. If nothing else, the past months had seen him discover the complications of being anything but, and now, on the brink of becoming a married man, perhaps there were nerves taking hold where he had not expected any.
Theodora after all, had been somewhat of a fascination for him for a long time: a spark that had not been extinguished and that now would be given chance to take light. He should be excited, and glad. And for the most part, he was. It was only that they had spent as much time disagreeing about things as they had agreeing over the past weeks, and that Achilleas had realised he really didn't understand the way her mind worked. A concern that fueled his unexpected rant about floral decorations. He spared only a long suffering look for Basildes as he moved to admit the Lady Myrto, the “Fascinating it isnot” said with some conviction before he smoothed his expression to greet his mother.
When the good Lady had passed judgement, sparing a satisfied smile for the merchant who was every bit as good as Evelli had promised, the two men were left alone again. One wrestling with amusement, the other wearing a resigned sort of misery upon his face. Achilleas turned to face the merchant, hands on hips making his broad shoulders seem even more so, an apprehensive cast to his features as he wondered what other ‘essentials’ Basildes could possibly have to add. The relief when the merchant produced the glass bottle was almost comical. And yet still, the quasi prince hesitated.
He was not usually a big drinker. Achilleas generally disliked the way in which it fogged ones senses. He liked to be in control of his responses and alcohol only impeded his ability to do so. That being said, he had found himself with cup in hand more often over the past weeks and it seemed churlish to refuse the man’s offer. With the arch of a brow, he took the couple of steps needed to retrieve the cups from the shelf and moved toward Bas with them in hand
“Do you find many of your patrons in need of such help?” he asked with a curious look at the other man. “Or, is it for your own use when you cannot bear such indecision?”
He could well imagine how his own patience would wear thin in such employ, but them it was hardly his area of interest. And he realised that the merchant had made more than one reference to another occupation, so perhaps this was not truly his, either. And as he stood before the merchant, the Lord glanced down at the crudely wrapped fabric that still adorned him and then lifted his gaze to the other. “ We are done with this are we not?”
Achilleas would have been mortified if he could have read the man’s thoughts. To be considered as somehow invested in whatever he wore was not how he would have chosen to be regarded. And indecisiveness too was hardly a trait to be celebrated, but he could at least argue that it was in a sphere of no interest to him, and of very little real consequence.
At least in his eyes.
The lord was, however, not so naive as to discount the import other people would set upon such choices, and really, with all that was taking up his thoughts as it stood, he just wanted an easy life. There was the briefest of moments where the merchant’s assurances of a life as an established bachelor stirred a hint of longing. If nothing else, the past months had seen him discover the complications of being anything but, and now, on the brink of becoming a married man, perhaps there were nerves taking hold where he had not expected any.
Theodora after all, had been somewhat of a fascination for him for a long time: a spark that had not been extinguished and that now would be given chance to take light. He should be excited, and glad. And for the most part, he was. It was only that they had spent as much time disagreeing about things as they had agreeing over the past weeks, and that Achilleas had realised he really didn't understand the way her mind worked. A concern that fueled his unexpected rant about floral decorations. He spared only a long suffering look for Basildes as he moved to admit the Lady Myrto, the “Fascinating it isnot” said with some conviction before he smoothed his expression to greet his mother.
When the good Lady had passed judgement, sparing a satisfied smile for the merchant who was every bit as good as Evelli had promised, the two men were left alone again. One wrestling with amusement, the other wearing a resigned sort of misery upon his face. Achilleas turned to face the merchant, hands on hips making his broad shoulders seem even more so, an apprehensive cast to his features as he wondered what other ‘essentials’ Basildes could possibly have to add. The relief when the merchant produced the glass bottle was almost comical. And yet still, the quasi prince hesitated.
He was not usually a big drinker. Achilleas generally disliked the way in which it fogged ones senses. He liked to be in control of his responses and alcohol only impeded his ability to do so. That being said, he had found himself with cup in hand more often over the past weeks and it seemed churlish to refuse the man’s offer. With the arch of a brow, he took the couple of steps needed to retrieve the cups from the shelf and moved toward Bas with them in hand
“Do you find many of your patrons in need of such help?” he asked with a curious look at the other man. “Or, is it for your own use when you cannot bear such indecision?”
He could well imagine how his own patience would wear thin in such employ, but them it was hardly his area of interest. And he realised that the merchant had made more than one reference to another occupation, so perhaps this was not truly his, either. And as he stood before the merchant, the Lord glanced down at the crudely wrapped fabric that still adorned him and then lifted his gaze to the other. “ We are done with this are we not?”
Basilides resumed a more professional air as he poured a draught of the amber liquid for each of them, setting the bottle aside onto the royal's desk before raising the cups in a silent toast and taking a sip. A sigh of satisfaction as the drink danced across his tongue escaped him, hopefully relieving the air of dread at the planning process the Crown Prince wore on his face.
It was unfortunate, though, that Basilides did not seem to have the words to say to offer the man any sort of relief in his plight. Apart from his brother wedding his wife nearly a decade ago, the merchant was not entirely familiar with the emotions at play in such a circumstance - he was younger and had no interest other than sharing drinks with Maxios while Leander and Galen fussed about with their mother. Perhaps that was why he resorted to such an offering for relief.
The drink seemed to have soothed some purpose a bit, loosening the man's tongue in a question that intrigued Basilides.
"In truth, this is not much of an issue considering my last state of employ with the troupe. You are far less demanding than dancers, vocalists, acrobats, and actors, Your Highness, despite what you may think." Basilides grinned slightly at the suspicion that indecision would help line his pockets a bit further, a reputation that Galen and a few other merchants within the Guild had a habit of doing with the nobility. If he were smart, Bas would take advantage of such a thing as well, but perhaps it was his straightforward nature that kept him from lending his mind towards conniving a few extra drachmae into his coinpurse.
"We are, indeed," the merchant confirmed, nodding for the man to remove the loosely wrapped fabric around his body for him to be able to redress in his usual attire. Oh, but wait....he would require assistance in dressing once again. The realization struck but was quelled by the light bit of drink still lingering on his tongue, followed by a hefty second swig as Prince Achilleas began to remove his clothes once more.
Basilides was not so quick to divert his eyes, using the excuse of collecting the chosen fabric into his hands as the man stood bare in the room before him. To say the man was well-formed would have been an understatement, with muscles rounded and curved from what could only have been decades of military practice and service. On his own body, Basilides held only the faintest outline of musculature, but never anything worth noting he supposed. It was especially true when he thought of himself in comparison to the kouros before him.
Letting his eyes fall down to the fabric in his hand to fold it carefully and set it aside to be taken immediately to the seamstress, along with the dress for the bride.
"It is my hope that there should be no need for a following visit, as the groom's attire is usually more easily resolved than the bride's....or so I am told," Basilides added, knowing that he was not expert in weddings. His brother and mother had sent him a list of items to acquire for a wedding of this proportion and this was merely another check on the list. Closing the trunk with all his options within, Basilides turned around to see the man still bare in the room.
He took one last swig of his drink, draining his cup before stepping forward to assist the man again.
"Tell me about your bride. Apart from the endless lists in preparing for the day, are you eager?"
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Oct 27, 2019 15:31:38 GMT
Posted In Make A Choice on Oct 27, 2019 15:31:38 GMT
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Basilides resumed a more professional air as he poured a draught of the amber liquid for each of them, setting the bottle aside onto the royal's desk before raising the cups in a silent toast and taking a sip. A sigh of satisfaction as the drink danced across his tongue escaped him, hopefully relieving the air of dread at the planning process the Crown Prince wore on his face.
It was unfortunate, though, that Basilides did not seem to have the words to say to offer the man any sort of relief in his plight. Apart from his brother wedding his wife nearly a decade ago, the merchant was not entirely familiar with the emotions at play in such a circumstance - he was younger and had no interest other than sharing drinks with Maxios while Leander and Galen fussed about with their mother. Perhaps that was why he resorted to such an offering for relief.
The drink seemed to have soothed some purpose a bit, loosening the man's tongue in a question that intrigued Basilides.
"In truth, this is not much of an issue considering my last state of employ with the troupe. You are far less demanding than dancers, vocalists, acrobats, and actors, Your Highness, despite what you may think." Basilides grinned slightly at the suspicion that indecision would help line his pockets a bit further, a reputation that Galen and a few other merchants within the Guild had a habit of doing with the nobility. If he were smart, Bas would take advantage of such a thing as well, but perhaps it was his straightforward nature that kept him from lending his mind towards conniving a few extra drachmae into his coinpurse.
"We are, indeed," the merchant confirmed, nodding for the man to remove the loosely wrapped fabric around his body for him to be able to redress in his usual attire. Oh, but wait....he would require assistance in dressing once again. The realization struck but was quelled by the light bit of drink still lingering on his tongue, followed by a hefty second swig as Prince Achilleas began to remove his clothes once more.
Basilides was not so quick to divert his eyes, using the excuse of collecting the chosen fabric into his hands as the man stood bare in the room before him. To say the man was well-formed would have been an understatement, with muscles rounded and curved from what could only have been decades of military practice and service. On his own body, Basilides held only the faintest outline of musculature, but never anything worth noting he supposed. It was especially true when he thought of himself in comparison to the kouros before him.
Letting his eyes fall down to the fabric in his hand to fold it carefully and set it aside to be taken immediately to the seamstress, along with the dress for the bride.
"It is my hope that there should be no need for a following visit, as the groom's attire is usually more easily resolved than the bride's....or so I am told," Basilides added, knowing that he was not expert in weddings. His brother and mother had sent him a list of items to acquire for a wedding of this proportion and this was merely another check on the list. Closing the trunk with all his options within, Basilides turned around to see the man still bare in the room.
He took one last swig of his drink, draining his cup before stepping forward to assist the man again.
"Tell me about your bride. Apart from the endless lists in preparing for the day, are you eager?"
Basilides resumed a more professional air as he poured a draught of the amber liquid for each of them, setting the bottle aside onto the royal's desk before raising the cups in a silent toast and taking a sip. A sigh of satisfaction as the drink danced across his tongue escaped him, hopefully relieving the air of dread at the planning process the Crown Prince wore on his face.
It was unfortunate, though, that Basilides did not seem to have the words to say to offer the man any sort of relief in his plight. Apart from his brother wedding his wife nearly a decade ago, the merchant was not entirely familiar with the emotions at play in such a circumstance - he was younger and had no interest other than sharing drinks with Maxios while Leander and Galen fussed about with their mother. Perhaps that was why he resorted to such an offering for relief.
The drink seemed to have soothed some purpose a bit, loosening the man's tongue in a question that intrigued Basilides.
"In truth, this is not much of an issue considering my last state of employ with the troupe. You are far less demanding than dancers, vocalists, acrobats, and actors, Your Highness, despite what you may think." Basilides grinned slightly at the suspicion that indecision would help line his pockets a bit further, a reputation that Galen and a few other merchants within the Guild had a habit of doing with the nobility. If he were smart, Bas would take advantage of such a thing as well, but perhaps it was his straightforward nature that kept him from lending his mind towards conniving a few extra drachmae into his coinpurse.
"We are, indeed," the merchant confirmed, nodding for the man to remove the loosely wrapped fabric around his body for him to be able to redress in his usual attire. Oh, but wait....he would require assistance in dressing once again. The realization struck but was quelled by the light bit of drink still lingering on his tongue, followed by a hefty second swig as Prince Achilleas began to remove his clothes once more.
Basilides was not so quick to divert his eyes, using the excuse of collecting the chosen fabric into his hands as the man stood bare in the room before him. To say the man was well-formed would have been an understatement, with muscles rounded and curved from what could only have been decades of military practice and service. On his own body, Basilides held only the faintest outline of musculature, but never anything worth noting he supposed. It was especially true when he thought of himself in comparison to the kouros before him.
Letting his eyes fall down to the fabric in his hand to fold it carefully and set it aside to be taken immediately to the seamstress, along with the dress for the bride.
"It is my hope that there should be no need for a following visit, as the groom's attire is usually more easily resolved than the bride's....or so I am told," Basilides added, knowing that he was not expert in weddings. His brother and mother had sent him a list of items to acquire for a wedding of this proportion and this was merely another check on the list. Closing the trunk with all his options within, Basilides turned around to see the man still bare in the room.
He took one last swig of his drink, draining his cup before stepping forward to assist the man again.
"Tell me about your bride. Apart from the endless lists in preparing for the day, are you eager?"
As Achilleas took a sip of whatever spirit it was the man had poured, he let himself take a little comfort in the knowledge that he had not driven the merchant to drink at least. And when Basildes spoke of his previous employ, the Prince nodded. He imagined those of a...theatrical nature might be harder to please. Though there were those within his own circles whom he could imagine being far more precious than he, and almost he suggested it, but the reluctance to be indiscreet held his tongue beyond a quiet “Well that is a relief then”.
And when the merchant agreed that he could remove the fabric still pinned around him, Achilleas set down his cup, raised his arms so the man might set about taking out the pins he’d used to secure it. This time, the prince had prepared himself a little more for the proximity of the other, and if he felt the heat of Basildes’ gaze then he did not react outwardly, save for the slant of those blue eyes across at the merchant as he retreated to fold the burgundy cloth.
And as he began to wrap his own chiton back around himself, Achilleas gave the briefest flash of a smile when the man suggested that he wasn’t so despondent about every aspect of his upcoming wedding. “I am more than fortunate in my bride. I’m sure when we are wed and away from..” Achilleas paused and reconsidered his words. He did not need to share the tiny reservations that had begun to creep into his thoughts. They would resolve themselves he was certain. He was in a blessed position to be betrothed to a woman that he actually cared for, rather than one foisted upon him solely for political advantage. “I am eager. But it seems to have been a long time in coming, delayed more than once and now I am sure my good mother and the Lady Leventi are attempting to make up for it by ensuring it is the most ostentatious of days”
With a nod of thanks towards the merchant, the Prince stepped away. “ And at least now they cannot complain that I will not be suitably attired. Just throw in whatever you judge appropriate adornments, I can bear being gilded like a peacock for one day if it will spare me the disappointment of those who care for such things.” Such as his mother, and no doubt his father too if Achilleas did not present himself as was befitting a Crown Prince. Never mind the fact that it seemed in poor taste to Achilleas, to flaunt such a change in position after the way it had come about. He swallowed the bitter taste such thoughts left in his mouth and looked again to the merchant. He had been an agreeable fellow despite how dismayed Achilleas had been at the announcement of his presence, and the Mikaelidas heir was glad of that.
“My thanks to you anyway. The steward will pay you if such things have not already been arranged with the Lady Mikaelidas.”
It was a dismissal, but not an unkind one, the Lord waiting for Basildes to take his leave before sinking into the klimtos behind the desk with a sigh. He pondered how long he could safely hide in his study before he was found out and his tranquility disturbed once more. The wedding could not come soon enough.
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Oct 27, 2019 20:27:41 GMT
Posted In Make A Choice on Oct 27, 2019 20:27:41 GMT
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As Achilleas took a sip of whatever spirit it was the man had poured, he let himself take a little comfort in the knowledge that he had not driven the merchant to drink at least. And when Basildes spoke of his previous employ, the Prince nodded. He imagined those of a...theatrical nature might be harder to please. Though there were those within his own circles whom he could imagine being far more precious than he, and almost he suggested it, but the reluctance to be indiscreet held his tongue beyond a quiet “Well that is a relief then”.
And when the merchant agreed that he could remove the fabric still pinned around him, Achilleas set down his cup, raised his arms so the man might set about taking out the pins he’d used to secure it. This time, the prince had prepared himself a little more for the proximity of the other, and if he felt the heat of Basildes’ gaze then he did not react outwardly, save for the slant of those blue eyes across at the merchant as he retreated to fold the burgundy cloth.
And as he began to wrap his own chiton back around himself, Achilleas gave the briefest flash of a smile when the man suggested that he wasn’t so despondent about every aspect of his upcoming wedding. “I am more than fortunate in my bride. I’m sure when we are wed and away from..” Achilleas paused and reconsidered his words. He did not need to share the tiny reservations that had begun to creep into his thoughts. They would resolve themselves he was certain. He was in a blessed position to be betrothed to a woman that he actually cared for, rather than one foisted upon him solely for political advantage. “I am eager. But it seems to have been a long time in coming, delayed more than once and now I am sure my good mother and the Lady Leventi are attempting to make up for it by ensuring it is the most ostentatious of days”
With a nod of thanks towards the merchant, the Prince stepped away. “ And at least now they cannot complain that I will not be suitably attired. Just throw in whatever you judge appropriate adornments, I can bear being gilded like a peacock for one day if it will spare me the disappointment of those who care for such things.” Such as his mother, and no doubt his father too if Achilleas did not present himself as was befitting a Crown Prince. Never mind the fact that it seemed in poor taste to Achilleas, to flaunt such a change in position after the way it had come about. He swallowed the bitter taste such thoughts left in his mouth and looked again to the merchant. He had been an agreeable fellow despite how dismayed Achilleas had been at the announcement of his presence, and the Mikaelidas heir was glad of that.
“My thanks to you anyway. The steward will pay you if such things have not already been arranged with the Lady Mikaelidas.”
It was a dismissal, but not an unkind one, the Lord waiting for Basildes to take his leave before sinking into the klimtos behind the desk with a sigh. He pondered how long he could safely hide in his study before he was found out and his tranquility disturbed once more. The wedding could not come soon enough.
As Achilleas took a sip of whatever spirit it was the man had poured, he let himself take a little comfort in the knowledge that he had not driven the merchant to drink at least. And when Basildes spoke of his previous employ, the Prince nodded. He imagined those of a...theatrical nature might be harder to please. Though there were those within his own circles whom he could imagine being far more precious than he, and almost he suggested it, but the reluctance to be indiscreet held his tongue beyond a quiet “Well that is a relief then”.
And when the merchant agreed that he could remove the fabric still pinned around him, Achilleas set down his cup, raised his arms so the man might set about taking out the pins he’d used to secure it. This time, the prince had prepared himself a little more for the proximity of the other, and if he felt the heat of Basildes’ gaze then he did not react outwardly, save for the slant of those blue eyes across at the merchant as he retreated to fold the burgundy cloth.
And as he began to wrap his own chiton back around himself, Achilleas gave the briefest flash of a smile when the man suggested that he wasn’t so despondent about every aspect of his upcoming wedding. “I am more than fortunate in my bride. I’m sure when we are wed and away from..” Achilleas paused and reconsidered his words. He did not need to share the tiny reservations that had begun to creep into his thoughts. They would resolve themselves he was certain. He was in a blessed position to be betrothed to a woman that he actually cared for, rather than one foisted upon him solely for political advantage. “I am eager. But it seems to have been a long time in coming, delayed more than once and now I am sure my good mother and the Lady Leventi are attempting to make up for it by ensuring it is the most ostentatious of days”
With a nod of thanks towards the merchant, the Prince stepped away. “ And at least now they cannot complain that I will not be suitably attired. Just throw in whatever you judge appropriate adornments, I can bear being gilded like a peacock for one day if it will spare me the disappointment of those who care for such things.” Such as his mother, and no doubt his father too if Achilleas did not present himself as was befitting a Crown Prince. Never mind the fact that it seemed in poor taste to Achilleas, to flaunt such a change in position after the way it had come about. He swallowed the bitter taste such thoughts left in his mouth and looked again to the merchant. He had been an agreeable fellow despite how dismayed Achilleas had been at the announcement of his presence, and the Mikaelidas heir was glad of that.
“My thanks to you anyway. The steward will pay you if such things have not already been arranged with the Lady Mikaelidas.”
It was a dismissal, but not an unkind one, the Lord waiting for Basildes to take his leave before sinking into the klimtos behind the desk with a sigh. He pondered how long he could safely hide in his study before he was found out and his tranquility disturbed once more. The wedding could not come soon enough.