Log: A polite Decline

["Erin K. DeMoranville" <odessa@multiverse.com>]

Participants: Valentina, Boris
Location: Harkonnen Embassy Salon
Summary: Baroness Marconna declines the invitation to tomorrow 
night's event from the Harkonnens.

This log was taken from the point of view of Valentina.

Happy readings -=-=-=--=-=



The twin slave girls hold the ivory doors open 
for you as you enter.

Salon -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
A long, low-ceilinged room, lit by freefloating 
suspensor lamps. In the very center of the room 
bubbles a small indoor fountain. The walls are 
paneled in omfortable dark woods. There are a 
variety of tables scattered about the room, 
promoting conversation and relaxation. Smoke 
usually fills the air. 
	A low dais, accessible by a short flight of 
stairs, runs along the eastern wall, with more 
tables up there. Along the western wall is a 
sideboard, where Keffi waits to make guests 
comfortable.
Players:
 Boris                                 Valentina 
                           
Exits:
 Sloping Tunnel <D> leads to Arena Grandstand -- 
Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Embellished Portal <S> leads to Dining Hall -- 
Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Ivory Doors <N> leads to Giedi Hall -- 
Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

Keffi glances up and curtsies to Valentina. 
"Welcome to the Salon, my lady! My name is 
Keffi. Your wish shall be my command."

The Baroness is shown in by a guard or some such 
thing.

Boris
Boris Harkonnen is a great bear of a man, his 
body a great slab of muscle now turning to fat 
with age. His head is shaven bald, his full 
white beard twined in braids that spill down his 
barrel chest. Crystal blue eyes glint maniacally 
under bushy white brows. He's wearing a 
capacious silk obi, of sky-blue, with an ornate 
silver ram's head insignia on the back; the obi 
is belted with a black sash about his broad 
waist. He's wearing black tabi boots on his big 
feet.

Valentina
	The woman before you stands proudly at her 
height of almost six feet. Her locks of raven 
black fall down to just beneath her shoulders in 
luxurious gentle curves. A large gold band rests 
around her head like a crown. The scent of her 
favorite spices surrounds the air subtly where 
she stands. The scent matches her swarthy 
coloring as well; olive-colored skin reminiscent 
of a culture past. 
	She wears a dress made of crushed velvet, a 
dark red-wine in color. Gold threads are woven 
along the arms, and the upper portion of the 
dress, giving it an almost quilted look. A belt 
made of gilted gold rests against her hips,
accenting the smallness of her slight frame. The 
gentle scoop-cut of the neckline is accented by 
a small golden chain, from which a tiny crucifix 
hangs. 
	A hand reaches up, brushing back a few 
strands of her dark locks from her face. Her 
emerald eyes glance back at you. High well-
defined cheekbones give her face a loving 
appearance. A small diamond-shaped red colored 
tatoo is seen from her forehead, revealing to 
all the mark of her profession. 
	Upon her hands she wears two rings. On her 
left hand's pointer finger a small golden band, 
with a diamond and sapphire glimmers. A pinky 
ring worn on her left hand, seems to be a 
cumbersome looking piece of gold. A dark 
bloodstone is embedded along the falttened top, 
and a metal imprint of the signet of the Great 
House Moritani is molded into the stone. 
	If she is wearing any makeup it is impossible 
to tell, except perhaps that her features are 
slightly more hightlighted; her eyes a bit more 
dramatic, her lips a bit darker. 
	A cape made of a heavy dark blue cloth is 
worn over her shoulders, the hemline lined with 
a dark brown/black fur that is soft to the 
touch. Shoes are hidden beneath the hemline of 
the dress.

Boris sits lazily in a chair, smoking a 
tremendous cigar, drinking from a large goblet 
of amber liquor. He's surrounded by a cloud of 
blue smoke, and looks up as Valentina enters. 
"Ah, the lovely Baroness.." he says, chuckling. 
"I must say, this is a surprise. Whether it's a 
welcome surprise remains to be seen, eh?" He 
gestures to a slave. "Fetch the Baroness her 
poison of choice, eh?" The slave hurries off to 
the sideboard to pour the Baroness a drink.

Valentina offers a formal curtsey upon your 
address, then as she straightens, she speaks to 
the slave, "I will politely decline a drink," 
she says, "Baron Harkonnen, you are looking 
well," she says quietly.

Boris grins. "And why wouldn't I be, eh?" He 
frowns at her declining a drink. "What, no 
drink? Will you take anything else? A slave, 
perhaps? There's a dark-haired boy you might 
like..."

Valentina shakes her head, "Again, I politely 
decline... perhaps you shall offer both to the 
Count when you next see him. I am sure he shall 
be grateful."

Boris shrugs, puffing on his cigar. "Sit, then, 
at least!" he beckons. "What mission brings you 
here today, eh?"

Valentina hesitates only slightly, then does 
take a seat as offered, "I am afraid the news is 
not good, so again you shall grow angry with me, 
as is your custom, Baron," she says. Her words 
border haughty, though she delivers them wisely 
enough that there is little to be done about it.

Boris raises a brow. "Not good news," he 
rumbles, "Go on..."

You say, "Your... baliset performance tomorrow 
eve... with the Master Varota..."

You say, "I am afraid I shall not be in 
attendence."

Boris strokes one of the braids in his beard. "I 
see," he says, eyes twinkling. "Can't stand 
baliset music, eh?"

Her emerald eyes study you a moment, before she 
speaks, "If that is what you wish to believe, 
then yes," she answers.

Boris has looked at you.

Could that be a hint of a smile upon her lips, 
"Rest easy, dear Baron. The Count shall be in 
attendence," she then continues, "And it is.... 
his company, you prefer," she says, leaving the 
multiple meanings open to interpretation.

Boris 's face darkens. "Don't take such a tone, 
Baroness. You show up here to taunt me in my 
home? Speak plainly, eh?" he leans forward in 
his seat. "You've as much love for me and mine 
as you might love a cobra..no, you'd love a 
cobra more."

She chuckles, a sharp sound, that is only 
designed as amusement. "Rest easy, Baron," she 
says, "I never loose sleep over your well-being."
Her emerald eyes are the only part of her that 
reveal her true feelings, the deep dislike 
plainly visible there. It is amazing her body 
language does not take on this. Indeed, she is 
quite capable of remaining, civil and polite, as 
it is called for by one of her position. Her 
tutoring is indeed paying off.

Boris shakes his head. "The Moritani-Harkonnen 
alliance has lasted three thousand years, girl! 
You're the na-heir to a grand seat, the seat of 
my dearest friend Galeazzo. Don't toy with such 
a relationship between our houses. You'd live to 
regret such a mistake....And that's no threat, 
eh, just a simple statement of fact."

Valentina nods, "It is interesting... but let us 
keep in mind it is you and yours who have 
challenged this... alliance. Am I simply to 
trust you because others have? For I do not. And 
I shall not. Trust is something to be earned, 
Baron," she says. Her tone still carries the 
mild haughtiness to it yet somehow she still 
manages to remain slightly respectful. Damn the 
frustration of it.

Boris snaps his fingers. "If you don't trust me, 
who will you embrace? The Ginaz? They'd have 
another welcome for you, my lovely Baroness." He 
chuckles. "D'you think your little House 
Marconna was adequate schooling in dealing with 
a Great House?"

Again, her eyes study you, "If it was not, then 
why is there fear behind your eyes? If I shall 
embrace another, and throw this entire charade 
to the winds, would Harkonnen stumble over his 
feet?"

Valentina then adds, "Perhaps it is you, who 
should act more respectful, Baron."

Boris grins, throwing his head back and 
laughing. "Gods, what a magnificent witch you 
are, woman! You remind me so of my late wife!" 
He drops his cigar in his mirth.

Valentina merely studies your behavior. She does 
not acknolwedge the comparision, perhaps because 
she did not know the woman of which you speak.

Boris explains, "Had to have her killed of 
course, but she was a monstrous harridan like 
you, in her way." He laughs some more, out of 
control, holding his belly as he convulses. 
"Cesare's chosen well, I think. You've fight in 
you."

Her emerald eyes merely hold her gaze, 
unblinking. She is used to you threatening her 
life by now.

Boris sits back, composing himself, slurping his 
liquor, still chuckling. "You show up in my home 
and tell me to act more respectful. If you had 
an ounce of sense, you'd see how silly your 
position is, Baroness. Cesare will tell you I'm 
not afraid of much, certainly not some Marconna 
viperess who's put on airs. " He grins. "Did you 
come to discuss your dislike of balisetists, or 
the foreign policy Moritani will pursue under 
your rule? Either one seems quite absurd."

Valentina chuckles, now amused, "No more absurd 
than your policies currently, Baron." she then 
offers a slight smile, "I merely came to offer 
my...  respectful decline to your invitation. 
Nothing more."

Boris says idly, "Nothing more? How odd that is, 
you deigning to set foot in the my halls. Eh?" 
He smiles, toothily, gazing at her. "I can see 
the hate in your eyes, Baroness; nothing gets 
the blood pumping more than a good healthy 
hatred. Keep that feeling close to you, always, 
and you'll do well as a Siridar."

Valentina chuckles again, a slightly sharp 
sound, "Your advice is not needed nor heeded, 
Baron," she says, getting to her feet. She 
offers a slight curtsey, "Good day, Your 
Excellency."

Boris gestures in farewell, lighting a cigar and 
puffing clouds of smoke. "And good day to you, 
my lady." he chuckles, shaking his head almost in
admiration. "We'll come visit you next time, eh?"

You walk through the Ivory Doors.



Erin K. DeMoranville
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
And God created woman.
She had two arms, two legs, and three breasts. 
And it was good.  
And God asked woman what she would like to change about herself. 
And she asked for her middle breast to be removed. 
And it was good.
And she stood with her third breast in her hand and
   asked God what should be done with this useless boob.
And God created man....
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-===-=-=-=
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