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

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The Syltamul Estate Stables [Estate Grounds - South]


Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 746
Journey starter  

 

(Syltamul) ESTATE STABLES

The Syltamul Estate Stables

 

The Syltamul Estate Stable is an elegant, meticulously appointed building.  The central area is paved with brick and refined, spacious stalls line either side.  Hanging from the high ceiling are magically lit chandeliers, providing plenty of light even in the dead of night.   Magical lights are spaced along the floor at the door of every stall, as well.  Looking at the luxurious Syltamul Stables, one wouldn’t be remiss to think that their horses might live better than most people.

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 746
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Lord Travion Winterlow(Elf Noble) 3

Lord Travion Winterlow

Accompanied by The Elfmaid, Lady Wynterleaf

╺ ✽ ╸ 

Lord of the Greater Noble House Winterlow

[ooc: @wynterleaf - tag!]

 

Travion leaned against the open entrance to the Syltamul Stables as he waited for Wynterleaf to arrive, enjoying the heat spilling out from the magickally warmed stables as a gentle current from the carried from the ocean below the high bluffs upon which the Bridgeways sat, made the evening air slightly chilly.  It made Travion thankful for the longer length of the double-breasted tailcoat he wore, which combined with the relative thickness of the material, would help to ward against the nip of the cold air that settled over the Bridgeways most nights.

 

The young Lord brushed a little non-existent fluff off of his trousers, once again marveling at the fineness of the material as his fingertips brushed against the softly woven cotton.  In fact, he had to admit that he likely could not have found such a handsome costume for the Ball with this level of craftsmanship or that fit him so exceptionally well, anywhere other than The Lavish Hand.  Vincen Chemaux hadn’t been known to him before yesterday, but the refined Elf’s expertise and sharp eye for fashion far exceeded anything he’s seen in the Sparkling Market or otherwise.  By the time he’d left The Lavish Hand the prior evening, Travion had already commissioned a full set of hunting leathers and light travel wear from Monsieur Chemaux, with the enthusiastic promise to send all of his friends to the shop – and he planned to make good on his word.

 

At length, the sound of a carriage turning onto the gravel path that led to the stables, drew the young Lord’s attention. He looked up and smiled, the phosphorus glow from the small circles of light that lined the path, soft yet still bright enough for him to easily recognize Mac in the coachman’s seat.  He pushed away from the wall and walked out to meet the carriage, stopping just as Mac clicked their tongue and brought the beautiful Fresian mare to a halt with a gentle tug on the reins.  Travion had personally chosen the mare from the Winterlow Stables for this specific task, knowing the sheen of her ebon coat combined with her long, cascading mane and tail characteristic of all Fresian’s, would make for a striking picture.  The Winterlow name was synonymous with equines and hounds of the best pedigree, and while he might dislike the calculated snubs and inter-House politics engaged in by his fellow Nobles, showing off his family's exceptionally well bred horses and dogs is the one conceit that he’ll openly indulge in.

 

He greeted Mac when they hopped down from the driver’s seat with a quick grin and a slap on the back, following when the older Elf walked around the side of the carriage to open the door.  When the door was opened, Travion immediately stepped forward and offered Wynterleaf his hand to help her down from the coach, a genuine smile curving his lips when he saw her.  With a good natured wink, the young Lord Winterlow gave a short, joking bow and kissed her gloved hand before straightening.  He turned away briefly when Mac advised that he would be waiting with the carriage along the street at the bottom of the driveway to the estate, and that he was going to get going to hopefully secure himself a good spot with the rest of the coaches that would be dutifully waiting.  The coachmen for the various Lords, Ladies, and Nobles attending the masquerade typically had their own sort of party as they waited, camaraderie and alcohol making the wait far easier to endure.  With a wave to Wynterleaf, Mac hopped back up into his seat and he and the carriage disappeared down the gravel path and out of sight, a few minutes later. 

 

Once alone, Travion turned back to Wynterleaf and offered her his arm and when she took it, began to lead her to the interior of the stables.  “Milady Wynterleaf, I dare say that we both clean up rather well, wouldn’t you agree?” he remarked in a light-hearted tone. For his part, Travion looked far more like the young Noble he truly was than he had the night prior when they’d met at the Tree & Tankard Inn.  Freshly washed, clean shaven, and in fitted, well-tailored clothing, the handsome Elf’s bearing was unmistakably aristocratic.  He glanced at her with a twitch of his lips.  “You look radiant, Wynter,” he said without any guile.  “Your skin is practically glowing.  And I’m sure that you and I will be the envy of the Ball, once everyone sees us in Monsieur Chemaux exquisite costumes.”  He winked and shrugged a little to show that he was only half-joking.  He moved behind her to help her with her cloak - there was no way that she could enter the estate wearing it.  “May I?” he asked.

 

When she slipped out of her cloak, Travion would carefully fold it and drape it neatly over the stall that Triggerfeet was temporarily occupying.  He regarded the petite Elf with an appreciative nod.  “Vincen certainly outdid himself,” he murmured, giving her a neutral once-over.  If he noticed the edge of the thin line of a scar nearly invisible against the paleness of her skin, or if he was curious about the shape of what might have been either a feather or leaf tattoo that could just barely be glimpsed above the ‘v’ of the bodice, Travion didn’t comment on it.  Instead, entered Trigger’s stall and fished something out of the sleek black saddlebag.  He pulled out a small parcel wrapped in red fabric, a sealed, folded square of paper, and two masks.

 

Travion closed the stall door behind him and held out the mask to Wynterleaf, along with the folded note, which bore an unmarked and unbroken wax seal.  “Both are from the esteemed M. Chemaux,” he said.  “I’m glad he remembered because I had completely forgotten about masks!” Travion chuckled.  The one he handed Wynter was a simple, yet elegant, deep blue and velvet wrapped masquerade mask.   Small, clear crystals were tastefully embedded along the curve of the left side, the faceted gems twinkling as they caught and reflected the light.  The mask had a stylish, cat-eyed, and distinctly feminine shape, the material sturdy yet light enough to be comfortably worn, with two long, silver satin ribbons to keep it secured.  The mask seemed to strike a good balance between practicality and style, providing anonymity while not sacrificing the wearer’s visual range.  Travion’s mask matched hers in color and material, though it bore a more masculine silhouette with squared off edges and no crystals decorating it.  Instead, a delicate silver filigree decorated the right edge, the thin lines forming an intricate pattern that stood out in contrast to the dark blue background with a muted luster.  

 

And this is also for you,” he said, handing her the small parcel.  The bundle was fairly heavy for its size, wrapped in some sort of deep red, velvet fabric that was edged with gold thread.  Whenever Wynter unwrapped the bundle, a necklace and bracelet would be revealed.  “I figure I would lend you some jewelry for tonight,” Travion explained with a small, somewhat apologetic smile.  “Unfortunately, it would draw more scrutiny than not, if you walked into the Syltamul’s without wearing something flashy and expensive."  He sighed through his nose, shaking his head a bit.  “Trust me, were it any other way, I wouldn’t bother.  I personally don’t care either way - I think you look lovely just as you are - but I personally would like to avoid any additional gossip.”  He frowned, a look of frustration rippling through his green eyes.  “Those damnable gossips will already have enough to speculate about - I’ve never understood why they care if I attend a party alone or with a date? It’s nobody’s business but my own!”  

 

After a moment of quiet, annoyed brooding, Travion looked up and the dark expression cleared from his features.  “I apologize, Wyn. Don’t worry - from what I’ve gathered, nobody will be thinking about either of us once the Syltamul’s ‘mysterious guest’ makes their appearance, if the rumors are anything to go by.” He chuckled, his good humor returning quickly.  “I haven’t heard such salacious rumors in quite a while, let me tell you…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly.  “Here, let me help you with the necklace.

 

The necklace was very simple all things considered, and yet it clearly spoke of wealth and luxury.  Hanging securely on a brilliant and glittering, diamond encrusted platinum chain was a gorgeous, oval cut ruby set into a simple silver pendant, inlaid with small diamonds.  The gem was a deep blood red, and, judging from the size and weight, was at least nine carats.  The bracelet was a wide silver bangle that matched the necklace, featuring five rows of alternating diamonds and rubies, all of excellent color and clarity.

Travion whistled.  “This ruby is going to look massive against your petite frame!” He laughed.  “That’s perfect - you’ll fit right in.

 

Spoiler
A sealed & folded note marked with an elegant 'W'...

 Elegant script written is in blue ink, except for a small portion that's been scribbled out with stark black ink....


W - 

Please take heed of my advice: Be careful and take care.  You are entering waters with sharks…  I-I must confess, I had the chance to meet the Syltamul’s “house guest” when they brought him to the shop for a fitting after you left.  And his p-<*the rest of the sentence is scribbled over with black ink, making whatever was written, illegible*>my soul!

Keep yourself safe & destroy this note.

- V

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


Irihi liked
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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 96
 

~ Eddellyn Wynterleaf ~

[OOC: From The Syltamul Estate Front Gates]

Wynterleaf took in the magnificent stables, suitably impressed by their grandeur and not at all surprised that this was the location Travion chose to meet. He seemed the type to appreciate the luxury given to the livestock over that of the grand ballroom ready for guests and she did not doubt that he wanted to ensure firsthand Triggerfeet was well settled before attending the masquerade. She couldn’t fault anyone for wanting to spend time in the building, it was better kept, and better smelling, than many of the inns she had stayed in various parts of the worlde. Many of the stalls were large enough for entire families to live comfortably within, just another reminder of the wealth of the estate that they could provide such care for their cattle, no doubt it was nothing in comparison to inside the main halls. 

Spying Travion approach the carriage with an easy smile about his lips, she had to concede that he was probably the only noble that would have his stables grander than the house he resided and she wondered how her luck had put her in the path of unusual, down to earth elven lord. Taking in his appearance as he neared with a more critical eye, she had to admit he looked quite handsome, more like the image of the aristocrat he was, dressed in his fine costume for the grand masquerade. The double-breasted coat and fitted breeches suited him well, the excellent tailoring drew her eye in a line of an inverted V from his shoulders to his hips, where the jacket was fastened to emphasize his leanness before flaring over muscular thighs. 

She couldn’t help return the elf lord’s smile with a genuine one of her own, not wanting to admit she was relieved that he kept true to his word and showed up to meet her. His lighthearted bow and kiss to the back of her hand did not erase the smile and in return, she made a wholly irreverent, smart curtsy. “Lord Winterlow.

The young lord gave some instruction to MacGlivy and before he drove away, she waved a farewell, not expecting she would see him again. “My thanks and appreciation for the speedy and comfortable journey, Mac.” 

As the coachman drove away, Travion offered his arm to her and there was only a moment of hesitation before she tentatively rest her hand over it, as he led them into the stables. His compliment passed over her as her attention was caught by Triggerfeet, standing inside one of the stalls and she started to huff a small chuckle to herself seeing her assumption about Travion’s presence here was correct but the sound caught her in her throat as she heard the shortened form of her name fall from Travion’s lips. 

Wynter.

The name was said simply and plainly, without any malice or forethought how it would affect her. It was a reasonable shortened form of the name she had chosen after all it, and yet, no one had ever done that before. 

Her first instinct was to look around t seek out the owner of the name and thankfully, she had the wherewithal to understand that she was now the owner of that name, at least in part, before she acted on that instinct. But the damage was done, landing an emotional blow that was strong enough to empty the air from her lungs. The color had leeched from her already pale features and her arms tingled with numbness. She barely registered Travion’s request for her cloak and she willingly allowed the garment to slip from her shoulders. The elven lord was speaking but the sound was muted as her ears buzzed with inner thoughts, it was only when he presented her with a wrapped package that he had retrieved from his saddlebag that Wynterleaf was recalled back to the present. She gasped on a deep inhale of breath, a sound she quickly covered by exclaiming on seeing the masks. 

Ahhh.... ahem, oh... M. Chemaux never ceases to marvel with his insight! I never thought about getting a mask either.” 

Her stomach still churned, as did her thoughts, but she tried to hide her lapse in animation as she examined the mask, touching a finger to the concoction of deep velvet and sparkling crystals. It took a few seconds to wrestle her emotions and thoughts back in place, until at last what she was looking at filtered into her mind. The mask would suit her well enough, another small piece of the persona she was about to put on, a token to remember that persona as she moved forward. She turned her gaze to Travion’s, unknowing that the typical steel grey of her eyes were a bright silver, the light color bleeding into her face, making her appear nearly undead or supernatural. “You will need to help me secure it.

Wynteleaf handed him the mask and waited still and breathless, as the young noble fitted her with the strip of ribbon and velvet and and after it was in place, she took a step back to test her range of vision, glancing around the interior of the stables once more. The mask was reminiscent of a bandana she wore once or twice in her younger days, a fledging thief out of Seven Oaks, trying to hide her identity so that she could live a life among society and still be an unknown bandit. Back before she understood there would not be a comfortable fit for her within the towns, among society, that she was meant to live on the fringes. She adjusted the fit of the mask over her face, confident that it would stay in place but not that it would make her presence at the ball any more acceptable.  

Travion handed her a second bundle with an aggrieved explanation about appearances and expectations and she unwrapped it curiously, wondering what flustered the, until now, easy-going manner of the elven lord, only to find cradled in her arms a fortune in jewelry. The value of the jewels he was lending her was considerable, a mental calculation told her it was enough that she and her entire crew of thieves could retire comfortably, free from ever having to do a job again. Wynterleaf stared hard at the precious gems, considering what that life would look like. She had promised herself not to steal the precious Triggerfeet but she didn’t feel the same compunction about the jewels, as she doubted these did not hold the same place in Lord Travion’s heart as the horse did. 

She blinked the avarice from her gaze before handing the necklace to Travion, tilting her head forward to allow him to link it around her throat, the heavy ruby cool at first but quickly warming against her flesh. She dangled the matching bracelet between her fingers a moment, counting the diamonds and rubies encrusted into the band, before she pushed it into place onto her left wrist. She touched the ruby at her throat, curling her fingers over the stone as she recalled that she had something to return to Travion. From the pouch hidden at her waist, she retrieved his signet ring and passed it over to him.

Thank you again for your trust, though in the future, you’d be better advised to place that in safer keeping.” 

Playing the threads of his one-sided discourse about appearances through her mind again, she spoke slowly. “Travion, thank you for all your consideration. However, there is no such thing as additional gossip. Tongues will wag from both ends regardless of how we are presented - how I am presented. The sole purpose of events such as these is to dissect and analyze the movement of everyone present. I am an unknown, outside elf, wedging herself into a place I should not be, no amount of silk or diamonds will disguise that. There will be no fitting in and I’m afraid you will be judged poorly for being in my company, though I will be mindful of your reputation and try to not tarnish it overly much.” 

A vision of how she must look just then came to her mind, gowned, masked and jeweled in such a stark contrast to her usual apparel, she gave a sharp laugh, colored with sarcasm. Wynterleaf turned an apologetic look to Travion, “Sorry, I just imagined what my younger self would say if she could see me now. I’d probably gut myself after stealing everything of value.

She shook the vision from her head and already on a course of honesty, said to him openly. “Travion, I won't lie to you, I have my own reasons for wanting to be at this estate and you have my gratitude for providing me the means to be here. I’m not certain how this evening is going to end but I will do my best to see that you do not fall to any harm.” 

She truly did find she cared about his wellbeing and regretted that he had unknowingly been pulled into her machinations. On impulse, Wynterleaf placed her hand on his arm and peered up at him intensely. Her body still trembled faintly in the aftereffects of her earlier shock of hearing that name but she hoped he wouldn’t detect it in her light touch. “Should you ever find yourself needing help on the wrong side of the law, seek out the thieves guild and tell them you are a friend of ‘The Ivy Hand’ and promised aid.

She touched the ruby resting against her chest again and gave him a cheeky smile and tiny shrug. “What I can’t promise is that you will get your jewels back by the end of the night.” She joked but there was a kernel of truth to the words as well. She didn’t bother to gauge the other elf’s reaction to the statement as she broke open the sealed note, wondering what Vincen had to say; he didn’t seem foolish enough to send a reminder of his request in writing but she couldn’t imagine what else it was. 

Surprisingly, it was a reminder, though one to recall his warning about the estate and the Syltamuls’. She squinted trying to decipher what he wrote about the infamous house guest but ink obscured whatever description he had added. Bemused by his instruction to destroy the letter, she folded the paper back up and took it to the woodstove at the far end of the building where a small fire burned to keep the interior comfortably warm for the cool evening ahead. 

Returning to Travion and Triggerfeet, she rubbed a finger across the horse’s nose and heaved a soft sigh. “Well, there is no sense in lingering any longer and delaying the inevitable. It's probably best we make our way inside, wouldn’t you say, Lord Travion?


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