Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

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The Music Parlor [Estate Interior: Ground Floor - EAST WING]

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The Music Parlor is a spacious, yet comfortable room located on the Ground Floor of the Syltamul Estate.  The secluded parlor is situated at the end of a short hallway tucked up near the back of the East Wing of estate by the Guest Rooms, Library, and Sitting Parlours.  Musicians are encouraged to play the midnight black grand piano or  ornate gilded harp that are always on display, and other instruments can be found safely stored in large display cabinets against the far wall.  



[OOC: from The Bedroom of Lord Callon Syltamul ]


Lord Callon Syltamul

Lord Callon Syltamul(Elf Noble) 2

Lady Amarice ap Nudd-Syltamul

Lady Amarice apNudd Syltamul 1Lady Amarice apNudd Syltamul 3


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Daeth casually lounged in a shaft of sunlight on a loveseat next to one of the large windows in the Music Parlor, enjoying the heat on his skin as he stretched luxuriously. He draped his arms across the back of the loveseat and slouched back, reclining into the cushions as he extended his long legs in front of him, knees loosely bowed open.  It was a rumpled, indecent sort of sprawl, but Daeth really didn't care about what sort of figure he cut, gripped by his usual ambivalence and the drowsy warmth of the early afternoon sun.  He tipped his head back against the couch and resumed listening to the amusing repartee between the Lord and Lady of the estate, watching both of their lovely figures beneath a half-lidded gaze.

Said Lord and Lady were meticulously scheming planning every step of their afternoon outing to the Lavish Hand.  While neither husband or wife truly had much love lost between them, Daeth had come to see that what they didn't have in marital love, they made up for in a deep, mutual respect for one another.  He figured that's why they shared him without jealousy, both uncaring of whose bed he warmed at the end of the day as long as it was one of theirs and not anyone else's.  Daeth was willing to indulge them for now, although he thought it was rather cute that either of them actually thought they had any control over who he took to bed.  

Regardless, for now he was content to allow them the illusion of control, mostly because he was continually entertained by their possessiveness over him, which was antipodal to their almost compulsive need to flaunt what they had.  Daeth had suspected that they both gleaned immense pleasure from the envy of their peers, which, he supposed, explained the Masquerade Ball they were throwing in a few day's time. 

The invitations that had gone out indicated that the Syltamul's were having the ball, "In celebration of their most honored Guest," but Daeth (and doubtless everyone else) knew that it was  because they simply wanted to make people jealous.  According to Callon, it would be a veritable who's who of Liathlidor high society; with any luck (and careful manipulation of gossip in order to stir up anticipation) the ball would be the only topic of conversation both before and after the event.

Which brought everything back around to their strategically pre-planned, "surprise visit", to Vincen Chemaux.  Daeth had to admire the ruthless finesse in which the Syltamul's manipulated information.  

"Mirya" cooed Amarice, coming over to perch upon one of his knees.  She continued without preamble, almost breathless with anticipation.  "We are ready to depart.  The servant that went to The Lavish Hand ahead of us has sent word advising that the shop currently sits empty, save for Vincen himself. It is the perfect opportunity to pay Monsieur Chemaux, a visit."

At the sound of his pet name spoken in Amarice's musical voice, Daeth lifted his head and pinned her with his gaze.  He briefly, unintentionally, subjected her to the full intensity of his rich violet eyes before he blinked, breaking contact. 

He knew how careful he needed to be, how dangerous what truly lurked beneath the surface of his skin could be others.  In the past he's left people with broken minds  feverishly babbling about the "gaze of death", before they were invariably found dead the next day having gouged out their eyes - all because they'd looked into his own.  

Amarice seemed momentarily dazed but otherwise okay, and Daeth breathed in silent relief.  He sat up, a sly grin affixed to his face and bounced the golden haired Elfess on his knee to shake her out of her stupor.  Amarice quickly roused, her honey gold eyes refocusing on his grinning face, the tips of her pointed ears pinking as she was gently jostled up and down. 

He reached out and took her by the elbows, tugging her gently forward, purposely tipping her off balance.  He caught her with an arm looped around her waist as she fell towards him, her arms automatically coming up to brace herself.  He held her against him as she steadied herself, her soft hands pressed against his chest.  Amarice stayed like that for a minute before she pressed even closer, sliding her hands up and slipping one beneath his shirt collar, the other curving around the back of his neck to the base of his skull.  He could feel the beat of her heart in his own chest as she pressed flush against him,  her palm warm on his skin as she carded delicate fingers through the short hairs that just barely tickled his neck. 

It felt nice.  Daeth briefly indulged in the delicate scratch of her nails over his skin, making his scalp tingle pleasantly as she pushed her fingers through his hair.  After a moment or two, he leaned forward and looked up at her from beneath the fringe of his eyelashes, the former intensity of his gaze lessened and held in check.  He pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, then spoke.

"Mea pulchellus Dryadalis," he all but purred.  "Well then, I suppose we better go and pay a visit to Vincen," he said.  He caught Callon watching them over Amarice's shoulder and gave a quick wink, then looked back at the pretty face of the Elfess ensconced on his lap.  His lips curved into a puckish grin as he continued.

"You know," he began in a purposively irreverent tone. "If m'Lord and Lady allow me, oh, ten minutes alone with the esteemed Monsieur Chemaux," he trailed off for effect, his grin widening.  He fixed her with a mock-serious stare, his purple eyes bright with savage amusement as he continued.  "Well, I can assure you that it's more than enough time to really give the gossips something to talk about."  He lowered his voice and leaned up to speak into her ear.

"I guarantee that Vincen's time wouldn't be wasted.  After all, you and Callon know quite well how effectively I use my time when pressed."  He nipped playfully at that pointed ear and abruptly stood, lifting Amarice with him.

When he set her on her feet and looked at her, he had to stifle a chuckle at the jealousy, eagerness, and desire that warred openly across her pretty face.  For all of their possessiveness, the prospective frenzy that would be kicked up in the wake of such an elegantly calculated coup d'etat, made it almost worth considering.   The Lord and Lady Syltamul exchanged a long glance, and Daeth could almost see it as they each weighed the pros and cons of what he'd said.  

Daeth turned so they wouldn't see the roll of his eyes.  He wasn't actually serious.  He just liked to rile them up, especially Amarice; she was so easy to fluster and was always extra enthusiastic later.  He sauntered to the door of the Music Parlor, pausing when he reached it. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited, raising a shapely brow at the pair of Elves when they finally turned to look at him.  A teasing smile briefly skittered across his face to show that he had been mostly kidding - mostly.  He gave an expressive shrug of his shoulder, as though to say, "it's up to you - I'm fine either way ." 

"M'Lord, M'lady," he said, nodding to each one in turn. "Shall we be away before the day grows too long?"

Daeth didn't wait for their answer as he pushed away from the dooframe and started down the hall.


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Mea pulchellus Dryadalis (Latin)
My beautiful Elf

Mirya (Elvish)
Beautiful (Refers only to art or artwork.  So she's calling him a 'beautiful work of art'.)


[OOC: Daeth and the Syltamuls to The Syltamul Estate: The Front Gates ]

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