Café de Nuit

"Remy!" Tomas ignores Lia's lack of reaction to seeing him after half a decade. He adjusts his armload of bags and suitcases, grinning a little. "Look at you, all grown up. I-hallo sister!" Tomas leans against the wall, kicking his left foot up to balance the gentleman's wooden trunk while he frees a hand up to tip his hat at Nerit. Hopping a few steps, Tomas manages to readjust his weight without falling over, though he does topple a little dangerously back and forth.

"Must be a reproduction." Tomas asides to Kerrian re: the statue, "No one'd bring a Fimbria out of a museum and move it into the rooms we have here. I mean, maybe you could use it as a hat rack..." Tapestries?

Tomas sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth, mentally admitting he will need to make two trips even as he takes advantage of the noise of the twins's entrance to mutter again to the Verbreker, "Keep an eye on our Ms. Viardot, hey? Her Uncle's a friend of the Professor's." This is apparently important enough for an otherwise reasonable fellow like Tomas to overlook all the air in Celeste's head. One last glance over, and Tomas starts to make his way upstairs.

Kaitou Kage wrote:"You may call me Dommer Isfahani," he said crisply, "A pleasure, I'm sure."

Lia ... smiles. It is not a snakelike expression, but it is predatory in its own way, even with her lips chastely locked together. "How charming," she purrs. "In that case, do please feel free to address me as professor Mournswaithe, won't you?"

When she notices Tomas start to leave, she calls after him: "Oh, Tomas? If you have the time, I would like to talk to you later. I was thinking we might visit the captain sometime this week."

Rock wrote:I am Liability Mournswaithe," the black-clad Mage replies after a very brief pause, "of Mordent. Affiliated to the University faculties of history, archaeology and arcane philosophy, though I am not currently a member of staff there. How do you do? And ... with whom do I have the pleasure?"

“Liability…how very modern! And such a breadth of expertise—if all of our University’s faculty are so wide-ranging in their knowledge, I should never fear for our nation’s academic standing, no? I am not a student myself, but they hold such marvelous benefit events…Ah, but I see that I am interrupting old friends!” She smiled, taking a few steps back to allow Remy into the circle. “Do pardon my intrusion; I am merely caught up in the moment. M. Lessard, yes? A pleasure! Do you also have rooms at the Chateau?”

Cyrus wrote: “Good morning,” he said. He gave Lia and Remy a cursory nod and then grinned at Celeste. “Cyrus Isfahani, son of Nezar Isfahani III of Hazlan.” Cyrus bowed extravagantly to the young noblewoman. “Perhaps you’ve heard of us? We are a very old and dignified family in my homeland. May I have the honor of your name, my lady?”

“Oh, heavens!” Celeste looked positively bemused at the gesture, and after a brief moment of surprise, followed it with a curtsey of her own. “Celeste Mirielle Viardot, of Bienassis—charmed, M. Ishafani! I must say, we see so few of your countrymen in town that I hardly know how to conduct myself. I shall have to look up your family name in the Compiled Genealogy just as soon as I am able—please forgive my ignorance! I should be most thrilled to learn more of your lineage; I am fond acquaintances with the Demir family, late of Toyalis, but they have not returned to their homeland for some years now. Are you acquainted with Lady Ayla Demir, M. Ishafani? Such a witty conversationalist…”

The dommer's oily viper smile returned for a moment as he regarded Liability. "I will bear that in mind, professor," he said coolly, and then turned back to Celeste.

"It is truly a pleasure, Lady Viardot." Some of the oil washed off the Hazlani's face as he talked. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and continued. "Do not worry if you've not heard of us. I have learned that noble families are rarely well-known outside their homelands. But I think you will find the Isfahani family has a very rich and thorough history that goes back hundreds of years."

He bowed again, and the late morning light fell across his head. The tattoos on his scalp resembled some kind of predatory beast. Its eyes rested just above where his hairline would be and its fangs curled around his eyes, reaching their points on his cheekbones. From some angles, the beast resembled a viper or cobra snake. From others it looked like a hunting cat baring its teeth.

"I have not met the Demirs," he continued lightly, "But if the lady Ayla is half as charming as you, I would enjoy meeting her. Not before I have gotten to know you better first, of course. You are from Bienassis? I am not familiar with this place. Is it a long way from the city?"

Doing his level best to avoid the dual whirlwinds of Debutante and Hazlani, Agale approaches Sister Nerit. Gently clasping his hand together, he inclines his head slightly and speaks "Salutations, Sister. I had not expected to see a warden of the home faith this far north. I am M. Agale, tollere of the.." He drifts off in thought for a moment before continuing. "No, that is no longer accurate I suppose. 'Old habits die hard' is the local expression I believe. In any case, I am at your service should it be required."

Taking a more conspiratorial tone, he glances at the baggage train and leans in. "Perhaps we should find a less crowded means of entrance."

After their loud, raucous foreign words, Nerit raised a polite hand to Devereaux and added, "Monsieur, s'il vous plaît, est-ce vous avez ma clé, aussi? I am Sister Nerit." She spoke as formally as out of a textbook, and had a near-undetectable lilt on some of the vowels.

Speaking up, he then turns to Devereux "Indeed professor. If we might have our keys. And perchance is there a side or back door we might use?"

Professors, noblewomen, religious figures...it was all enough to make one feel distinctly out of their element. Eisenwald was the only one who was even remotely "normal". And that included the landlord. But Eisenwald had asked him to keep an eye on the woman who thought statuary was needed for one's living space...so he would.

Kerrian made his way over towards the conversational group, looking from person to person, finally resting his eyes on Lia. "What's the university like?" said with all the curiosity of someone who knew it was probably out of their reach, but greatly wished it otherwise. "I'm Kerrian Mauganson, by the way" He said, extending a hand. "You know Eisenwald from before ?"

"Liability Mourneswaith," Lia introduces herself to Kerrian, shaking his hand without any sign of reservations. "Yes, Tomas and I know one another from just shy of ten years ago, when we were both part of an archaeological expedition to the Amber Wastes. Some of us even wrote books about the whole experience ... And of course we've met several times since.

The University? Like so much of the world, it can be glorious, a place to expand your mind and acquire vast knowledge and skills to expand and preserve knowledge. Unfortunately, it is also a breeding nest for politics of various kinds, and right now there seems to be a spot of bother between the University's leadership and the Council of Brilliance.

If there is some subject you are eager to study, perhaps I could be of assistance? I may not be entitled to giving you an official degree, but I can certainly point you in the direction of several home schooling programs, not to mention some of the better places to purchase books in this city."

"That must have been interesting" Kerrian said with a hint of a smile. "I'd like to try going to the University..but I think it costs more than I'd be able to make in time for it to be reasonable. The Home schooling and books though..those sound like a good idea."

The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 11:45 AM
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Cronax wrote:Speaking up, he then turns to Devereux "Indeed professor. If we might have our keys. And perchance is there a side or back door we might use?"

"Certainly..." Devereux fumbled pulled out a key and squinted at it, making sure that it was in fact Mr. Agale's key. The keys were fairly new, though rather baroque in styling, with a handsomely engraved number on each. They were fairly large keys at that, to the point that Devereux's entire key-chain must have weighed a few pounds. The skinny former academic held out another key to the Ezran monastic. "And this is for... you, Sister... Doherty."

"There's only one... stairway, going up to your... rooms." Devereux shrugged apologetically. "There is a back door.... though... to the common room. You can go through... there."

"Actually..." The landlord cast a slightly nervous look at Celeste. "Perhaps it would be better if I... show you the way."

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Rock wrote:"My goodness me," Lia says, sounding simply surprised. "I'd thought to try and schedule a visit in a few days, but here you already are. Remy Lessard, as I live and breathe -- or is it doctor or even professor Lessard now? I'm a little out of touch with your career."

"Professor Lessard," Devereux beamed, nearly puffing up with pride.

"Junior Professor Lessard," Remy smoothly corrected, smoothing out a few wrinkles in his waistcoat. "I'm not quite the prodigy Professor Theroux was, or yourself as well, Professor Mournswaithe."

"Perhaps... for the better," Devereux murmerred very softly. Professor Lessard raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Rock wrote:Lia shrugs one shoulder, drawing attention to her pack. "Still travelling light, you see? One of the lessons of the desert. We should talk a bit, later. Perhaps professor Devereux and Monsieur Lessard would like to join in for a bit of reminiscing ...?"

"Actually, Professor Theroux had invited me to go visit the Guigol Museum just the other day," Professor Lessard mentioned, after a moment's thought. "Professor M seemed rather interested in it as well, but hadn't had the time until tonight. Perhaps you and Tomas would like to join us there, and then dinner afterward? It would be good to sit down and talk again."

The Whistler wrote:She smiled, taking a few steps back to allow Remy into the circle. “Do pardon my intrusion; I am merely caught up in the moment. M. Lessard, yes? A pleasure! Do you also have rooms at the Chateau?”

The professor politely inclined his head to acknowledge the other two people that had somehow formed a cricle around his position. "A pleasure, Mlle. Viardot. Godaag, Dommer Isfahani," he said, the foreign syllables rolling flawlessly off his tongue. "I will indeed be staying here. Room one, at the end of the hall, should you ever need anything."

Lessard glanced back at Lia for a moment, before turning back to the pair. "Are you interested in Denentlieuse history, Mlle. Viardot? M. Mauganson? Perhaps you would care to join us at the museum as well? And you as well, Dommer Isfahani, if you are at all interested."

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The stairs thumped satisfyingly as Tomas made his way up them, the Lamordian somehow managing to stay upright despite his vision being impeded by a large amount of expensive, and most likely completely unnecessary, suitcases. The banisters had been polished to a mirror shine, though how long that would last was anyone's guess. A plush red carpet rolled down the steps, giving the staircase a grandeur that didn't quite sync up with the current inhabitants. Even over the heavy noise of the baggage, Tomas could hear voices floating down from the hallway above.

A black cat was sitting at the top landing.

On closer examination, this was not quite correct. The cat was mostly black, but had three white paws, and a large smudge of white on its chest. It gave Tomas a wide-eyed stare with its large green eyes. The cat mewed plaintively at the baggage toting man, before zipping away down the hall.

The room next to Mlle. Viardot's was open, and from this a large amount of dragging, jingling, and other unidentifiable noises emerged. The tuxedo cat skittered into the open doorway, as the voices transformed from muffled murmurs into words.

"-still doesn't feel right," a young woman's voice filtered out from the room. From the doorway, Tomas could just barely catch a glimpse of a sea green dress, its owner idly kicking her legs as she sat on her desk. "I'm still picking up quite a bit of negative energy from the furniture."

"Doubtless, mademoiselle, if you let them sit in once place for more than a minute, they'd feel much better," an assured, masculine voice came in response. Though it hid it well, Tomas couldn't help but note it sounded slightly exasperated.

"Oooh, if you think we should. If you don't keep your furniture happy the spirits within it become malevolent creatures. Did you know? I read about this one Rokuman man who was eaten by his own umbrella," the young woman answered, doing her best to sound seriously horrified.

"An amusing image, mademoiselle, but only in anecdotal form," the man replied. Judging from his voice, his poker face was much superior than the woman's. The floor creaked as someone walked across it. "Voila! I will take it outside on this fine sunny day and cheer it up, and your accessory related mauling shall be averted."

"I'd better come with you! It could be... dangerous!" The tuxedo cat dashed out of the room again, quickly followed by a curvy, cheery faced woman in a green dress and a cream colored shawl. The young woman jingled as she skipped towards the stairs, as she was covered head to toe in a myriad of mystical trinkets. Every finger on her hand had a different ring, armbands and bracelets clinked along her wrists, and at least three separate pendants were around her neck. The woman, violating some universal law of the universe, skidded to a stop before running into Tomas, quickly adjusting her huge glasses as she looked up at the tall man.

A moment later, the woman burst into a huge, slightly snaggly smile. "Oh, M. Superintendent! Hello!" she said cheerfully. "My cat didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

"Sure!" Tomas hollers down, mostly so he can continue going upstairs without stopping. He loves and respects the Professor but these bags are freaking heavy. And then...that cat.

There's a bit of a staring contest, and internally, Tomas declares himself the winner.

Lucky the woman was resistant to the laws of narritive, because the second time he saw that damn cat Tomas was insistent on staying still. The thing was bad luck. Sure, it didn't make sense, there was no real logic to it, but the damn thing just looked at Tomas in a way that unnerved him...

"Oh!" Tomas stumbles, and for a second it seems as though he was going to fall down the stairs. "Excuse me, miss! No, no, your cat...and his cold, soulless eyes..." Tomas is probably joking, here, because no one would get that scowly over a cat. "...was fine! Just, ah, helping the new tenants get their things inside."

The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 11:47 AM
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DocBeard wrote:"Oh!" Tomas stumbles, and for a second it seems as though he was going to fall down the stairs. "Excuse me, miss! No, no, your cat...and his cold, soulless eyes..." Tomas is probably joking, here, because no one would get that scowly over a cat. "...was fine! Just, ah, helping the new tenants get their things inside."

"Oh, Grimmalken! Have you been trying to steal people's souls again? Bad kitty! Very very bad kitty!" The young woman scooped the cat up into her arms, lightly tapping it on the nose. The so-named Grimmalken blinked a few times, turning to give Tomas a rather confused look with its wide green eyes. Help did not appear to be forthcoming from that quarter.

"Grimmalken is a sinster, evil witch's familiar. Aren't you, Malky?" she said, picking the cat up under its front legs, so that it was looking at her eye to eye. Grimmalken gave a small mew. "He's just vicious! Oh yes! You're such a vicious, vicious nasty little thing! I keep him in line with pooooooooowerful magic spells, but he still does his best to get into trouble. You come to me if he gives you the slightest problem." The woman playfully ruffled the cat's head before setting it back down on the ground, and giving a small laugh. Tomas wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her stick her tongue out slightly at him.

Grimmalken darted back into the room, dashing between the legs of the blond man who was now casually leaning his arm against the door frame. Unlike Professor Lessard, this man was shorter and solid looking, and very obviously had been put to use moving furniture around a room for the past half-hour. Currently, he had a dull-lidded expression on his face, a rather incongruous looking red umbrella in his hand, and was rifling around his trouser pocket for a cigarette. One of his eyebrows arched meaningfully as he looked Tomas up and down appraisingly. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"If you are done saving the man from your cat, Cerise, allow me to save him from that luggage," he said, leaning the umbrella against the wall. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and snapped his fingers, causing the end to smolder and light. He held out his arms, offering to pick up one of the bags, with a self-satisfied expression on his face. "Where to?" the man asked.

NeoTiamat wrote: Lessard glanced back at Lia for a moment, before turning back to the pair. "Are you interested in Denentlieuse history, Mlle. Viardot? M. Mauganson? Perhaps you would care to join us at the museum as well? And you as well, Dommer Isfahani, if you are at all interested."

"That would be good, I think." Kerrian said. He had wanted to see the museum, but all things considered, didn't have the opportunity before. And this would be a reason to actually wear the good suit, so..

"I'm going to go get my things upstairs, and see if Eisenwald needs help" Kerrian said, extracting himself from the conversation to head up the stairs, only to encounter a conversation about witches familiars, stealing souls, and saving Tomas from Luggage.

"I'm..not interrupting, am I?" he asked, with a tilt to his head suggesting that if he WAS interrupting...he had NO idea what.

"Actually..." The landlord cast a slightly nervous look at Celeste. "Perhaps it would be better if I... show you the way."

Mr. Agale smiled sardonically.
"Perhaps it would. Lead on then Professor, show us the grand tour."

Nerit noticed one of the Hazlani men, as if he was watching her-- though she couldn't see his eyes-- and more importantly, the mark on his person indicating his faith. But she brushed this off and turned away to incline her head to the Lamordian man, though all the hubbub made it impossible to do much more. Indeed, the man was quickly off in another direction with luggage and the like.

Instead, her attention was taken by the somewhat suave appearance of M. Agale.

"Salutations, Sister. I had not expected to see a warden of the home faith this far north. I am M. Agale, tollere of the.." He drifts off in thought for a moment before continuing. "No, that is no longer accurate I suppose. 'Old habits die hard' is the local expression I believe. In any case, I am at your service should it be required."

"Enchantée, Monsieur." The nun bobbed her head to him and amended, "Au contraire! I am only une nonne, a lay monastic. Merci. Euh, pardon? I didn't catch that last part..." she trailed off.

Taking a more conspiratorial tone, he glances at the baggage train and leans in. "Perhaps we should find a less crowded means of entrance."

Her eyebrows raised at the potential of private conversation, and she smiled obligingly. "A good idea, Monsieur Agale."


Then, with key in hand, Nerit couldn't help but pity Devereux in some fashion, who seemed frazzled with the bubbling social atmosphere. To hasten him, she added, "Oui, Professor, it would be wonderful not to get lost on our first day."

Cyrus wrote:"I have not met the Demirs," he continued lightly, "But if the lady Ayla is half as charming as you, I would enjoy meeting her. Not before I have gotten to know you better first, of course. You are from Bienassis? I am not familiar with this place. Is it a long way from the city?"

If there was any particular subtext behind Cyrus’ statement, Celeste either chose to ignore it or failed entirely to pick up on it—difficult to tell which. Regardless, she didn’t skip a beat.

“Oh, gracious, no.” She brought up her fan to cover a light chuckle. “Merely on the outskirts of town, Dommer Ishafani—I am pronouncing that correctly, no? I shall have it before the day is out, this I promise. But, yes, Bienassis is merely the name of our family estate—such a magical place it is! We spent ever so much time in the gardens there, when I was a child… I have dwelt in the city proper for some years since, but nostalgia for one’s youthful home lingers ever on, don’t you think so?”

Lessard wrote:Lessard glanced back at Lia for a moment, before turning back to the pair. "Are you interested in Denentlieuse history, Mlle. Viardot? M. Mauganson? Perhaps you would care to join us at the museum as well? And you as well, Dommer Isfahani, if you are at all interested."

The transition from fond reminiscence to captivated agreement took not more than a quarter second. “Why, M. Lessard, nothing could please me more thoroughly! I am merely a novice when compared to present company, of course, but I have been positively fascinated by the visual arts quite since I was a girl—I must have visited the Guignol countless times, but I find that there is always more to see. Quite like our fair city itself, no?” Another short laugh. “I must say, I have been particularly entranced as of late by the sixth-century Richemuloise etchings in the rotating exhibition hall—such detail in the landscapes! Why, they have a Saint-Camille that simply…ah, but I do rattle on so!” She fixed an enthusiastic smile on the Junior Professor. “I should be most delighted to accompany you, monsieur.”