Log: Eek and Mik

[Lanaewen@aol.com]

A little Rasta-play. Enjoy,
~Eek

Dramatis personae: 
Mikhail, Siridar-Earl of Garrashu 
Ekaterina, Baroness Stalinsky, the Earl's cousin 

Descriptions:
Ekaterina
    Nobility. Gentility. Grace. She is a woman born to all three, and the marks of it show in every flashing glance, every slight movement, heard in every word that parts the soft flesh of her lips. Her eyes are the signature pthalo blue of the Rastanyev noble family. Pulled into an elegant bun at the base of her neck, her coppery curls make cobwebs seem coarse and diamonds dull. A bit of millinery sits at a proper angle. She smells of portyguls, the citrus smell an exotic tang in the nostrils.
    Airily attired in a white silk day dress, she attracts light like cut crystal. The dress has a high linen neck, stopping just below the edge of her chin, and is edged in delicate lace. A silver phoenix pendant glimmers atop the pure color of the shirt waist and its long sleeves, its puffy cuffs also embellished with white lace. The skirt trains behind her, and her figure has been accentuated in its graceful style with both corset and bustle, and the gathered frontale of pleated scoops from hip-point to hip point. She carries a parasol, and wears gloves-- also white.
    On her delicate left hand over her glove is set the ceremonial silver and blue solidite crest ring of the house, worn on her marriage finger.

Mikhail
    Mikhail is a tall, and well built man who looks to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Ice-blue eyes stare out at you from behind gold wire framed spectacles. His complexion is a fairly pale white, flushed with red at the cheeks, a complexion typical of the ruling class of Garrashu. His coal black hair has been trimmed fairly short, styled to imitate a longer version of a crew cut, it is immaculately groomed and well kept.
    He is wearing a crisply tailored uniform cut from a soft white fabric. The uniform is creased and pressed with extreme care- not a single wrinkle is to be found anywhere. The right breast of the high-collared white tunic is adorned with several small medals and insignia(the Order of St. Ivan I, the Order of the Holy Martyr, and the insignia of the Third Cossack Regiment). The tunic seems to mold itself around the Earl's graceful, yet muscular form. It narrows at the neck and chest, flaring out subtly at the hips and extending to mid-thigh. Twin rows of four gold buttons are obscured by a powder-blue sash appearing from under the left pogonyi(shoulder board), and continuing to his right hip, until it is overlapped by a belt woven of gold fabric. An ornate platinum clasp wrought into the image of a twin-headed phoenix grasping the orb and scepter in its talons serves to hold the neck closed. 
    A pair of slightly baggy and light weight white pants cover his lower torso, his feet are covered by a pair of polished black leather boots which extend to just above the calf. The golden hilt of an ornate shashka extends from a thin and slightly curved burnished steel scabbard. A shield belt has been cleverly worked into a ceremonial bandoleer, the facade of the control box bears the image of a nine pointed star with the rising phoenix in its center embossed on the front.

The setting:
Siridar-Earl's Sitting Room -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)
(Early afternoon)
The room is rather small and comfortable. The walls and the low ceilings have been paneled in elegant mahogany wood. Soft yellow light illuminates from brass lamps which sit in the corners of the room. Mahogany bookshelves line each of the walls, breaking only for the exit from the room, and the entrance to the Earl's bed chamber. The polished hardwood floors have been covered with elegant hand-woven kilim carpets from the Bajazet home world of New Adrianopolis. Bronze braziers full of red-hot coals have been placed in corners of the room, to take the chill from the air on cold nights. In the center of the room on a large rug rest two large chairs with matching ottomans. Small tables, placed at seemingly random locations throughout the room hold gifts and trinkets given to the Earl by the populous of Garrashu VI.

Scene:
The Earl of House Rastanyev rests quite comfortably in one of the oversized blue chairs in the middle of the room. His eyes are closed, though rather lightly, and one can tell that he's not truly sleeping, rather taking a brief moment to rest. Servants, clad in typical house working uniforms stream in and out of the doorway to the west, tending to the Rastanyev twins and the expectant mother. Said servants have managed to be extremely quiet, almost tip-toeing around the Earl.

The stream of in-bound caretakers halt for a minute, to allow the passage of the Baroness Stalinsky, sweeping into the room in a rustle of white silks. Then they resume their linear walk, in and out. Somewhere, a pair of gurgles are fawned over by no fewer than ten people. 

By her attire, she has just been out somewhere, walking... and upon seeing His Grace so... peaceful, she almost turns to retreat. Instead though, she talks a seat opposite, quite primly postured, and softly clears her throat. "Ahem. Your Grace?"

Mikhail rubs gently at his closed eyes, opening them slowly and raising a creamy-skinned hand to cover a minuscule yawn. "Mmmhmm?" he murmurs almost inaudibly, and then seems to come to his senses. "Ahh! Ahh, yes. Baroness Stalinsky. Forgive me, but it has been an extremely difficult thing to adjust to the care of two newborns, even with the aid of so many servants, Nerissa and I rarely seem to sleep much anymore." He pauses for a moment, turning to whisper in quiet Russkiy to one of the passing servants. More likely than not, it was an order for tea, though perhaps not. "Do sit down, Baroness. And please, tell me how your husband fares? Last I heard he was bedridden."

Ekaterina retains her austere expression, though she shifts her weight, becoming quite comfortable in the cushioned chair, the twin, the match to Mikhail's. Her back remains quite straight, though she bends briefly to prop her parasol against the edge of the chair, "Such, your Grace, is the plight of parenthood... No doubt your sleep patterns will improve with time. They are very healthy, your boys..."

Perhaps a thought of envy at the talk of the children, for there is tightness around her eyes. It relaxes only very gradually, "My husband is, as yet, still prone after his most... unfortunate accident. The doctors tell me that they are lucky to get a sensible word from him in a week."

The Earl chuckles softly at the response of his cousin. His countenance brightens visibly as the servant returns with a pot of melange tea. At the mention of the Baron Stalinsky's state however, he scowls slightly. "The Baron was a stout man. Word of his accident distressed me greatly, without his voice to speak reason in the Duma things could prove a little more difficult." His speech is paused to allow a servant to fill his empty mug with tea, and he takes a long draught from the mug, allowing the warm liquid to pool in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. "It is rather unfortunate that the pitiful Minor Houses still have any voice at all, though to take it to them would mean more bloodshed than I am prepared for, better to keep production up and profits high than to worry over them, they fear my Cossacks and more so they fear the Rodinia," he sighs softly, the mug landing on the table with a rather loud clank. "Enough is enough, I suppose. I asked you to come to Kaitai!
n for one reason, and one reason
 alone, Baroness..."

Throughout, Lily remains placid in appearance. <<She thinks tightly: That bastard my parents married me to couldn't speak sense in the Duma if hand of God put the words in fire before him. >> Her smile is calm, placid, and above all... sympathetic. "And that reason, your Grace? I wonder if it has anything at all to do with the talk of your impending visit to the system?"

The Earl's smile brightens visibly at this. The young woman is bright, very bright. His voice is rather warm and light, no longer quite as tired as it was before. "It does, it does. You see, Baroness, Kaitain is not a place I wish to raise the heirs to the Rastanyev Earldom. It is a place too full of danger, politic, and intrigue to safely raise children." He pauses, "Aside from that, it is terribly untraditional to raise the heirs-apparent away from the soil of their home world. I may be willing to break with some of the tradition, but that is not one of them." He drinks down another sip of tea, sighing with content. "You really must learn to call me Mikhail, Cousin. It is not fitting that you should worry over formality in private."

The Baroness says complacently, "I will try to bear it in mind, Cousin Mikhail, in future. If you remember that I am still "Lily" as I was when I was a girl." She sits up a little taller, and says after a moment of consideration, "-And I certainly agree, that the boys need to be raised knowing something of the land they will govern. What were you planning on naming them?"

Mikhail scratches his chin thoughtfully, letting out another sigh. "Mmm... The eldest of the two will be called Josef, after my departed brother, the younger I was perhaps toying with the idea of Vladamir or Serge- after my father." After that little bout of conversation, he drains the mug of tea beside him into his rather parched throat, signaling that the servant ought to bring another. "Well, Lilly, as I was saying before, I brought you here to ask a favor of you... I wish you to become Regent on Kaitain during my absence. I must have someone here to speak as a voice for the House. The Emperor has centralized things far too much for it to work any other way. You will be given the title of dom-Tsara... In Galach it translates roughly to 'Queen-Regent'. As you might guess it implies a good deal of power both here and on Homeworld."

Ekaterina nods her coppery-topped head, absently fiddling with the Rastanyev crest-ring adorning her wedding finger, in place of the traditional band. "Dom-Tsara, then, Cousin. I will do my best, then, after the proper paperwork has gone through to assure that I do not disgrace the House. I am sure everything will go smoothly... How long do you expect to remain of Garrashu?" Piqued interest...

The Earl sighs, raising his gaze to look directly into your own. "I shall remain on Garrashu for at the very least five or six years. The children will perhaps then come back to Kaitain with me, but I do not know, I could be gone for as long as ten or twelve years." He smiles briefly, "I do not much like this place, in my mind it cannot compare to home, so I suppose I will stay away as long as I can and happily raise my children, as well as dealing with matters on Homeworld."

"I see," says Ekaterina, for all the world looking pleased for her cousin. Or pleased at something else. <<She thinks: Plenty of time.>> "Cousin Mikhail, about our Ecaz contract... it has just gone out this year. Should I petition to renew our bid?"

Mikhail shrugs off the look from Ekaterina and offers a brief nod. "Indeed. The Ecaz contract is a prize beyond value, only Arrakis would make it unworthy of pursuit. Bid what you must for the contract, it has and hopefully will continue to keep the House in economic prosperity. If perhaps we could even pick up another smaller contract along with it, that would be a plus, but certainly nothing to fret over if we cannot."

Stolidly, and very serious, "Mikhail, my dear cousin, it is my hope that this house has nothing whatsoever to worry itself over, economic or otherwise."

Mikhail smiles softly, glancing back at the door to the bedroom. "Thank you, Lilly. I trust that you will run things well, and please, please, do not hesitate to call upon the council." He rises, pausing before he turns to go check on Nerissa and the children, "I will of course talk with you more and try and settle things as I may before I leave."

Ekaterina says as she reclaims her parasol, a triumphant look crossing her face as she turns to go, through the doors. And though she is alewady beyond hearing, she genuflects and mutters, softly saccharine, though edged in steel, each word: "Of course, your Grace, of course. I am, as ever, at service."

Finis.
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