Fun and Contention at the Alvstad Estate!

["Amit J. Sabnis" <ajsabnis@stanford.edu>]

A rather extensive log 'bout all sorts of crazy stuff, from Pers's
perspective.  You'll note the 'elderly' held out longer than anyone else. =]

CAST/DESCRIPTIONS:
=======
PERS:

        Light seems to be pulled from afar onto this imposing figure,
turning him into a series of crisp outlines and edges, crowning his brightly
blonde hair with a straw halo. The creases on his face surrounding gray and
green eyes, the marks of age and the merciless Alvsgaard air, add to his
stately presence.

        Despite his commanding air, Pers appears to be a shade under six
feet -- less than tall, particularly by Alvst standards. While not in a
uniform at the moment, he appears to nonetheless be sporting formal wear.
His slacks are of a dull gray, but are impeccibly tailored to his form,
revealing the whipcord-like muscles of a life-long mariner. His shirt is the
same gray as his pants, but over it he wears a sleeveless tunic of vibrant
sapphire, fastening down his torso with four oversized buttons and closing
at his neck in a stiff nehru collar. Hanging from his shoulders is, of
course, the ever-present high-collared cape of an Alvsgaardi Nobleman.

=======
CAECILIAH:

Deep eyes of soulful violet shine forth from the porcelain face of this
utterly noble lady. Her elfin brow is as if carved from the warmest living
alabaster in the manner of the greatest of artists. Her delicate, snowy
features are warmed by a touch of shimmer upon her cheeks and a hint of ruby
at her lips. Her slender, feminine frame holds the beauteous curves of a
lady mingled with the subtle grace of a master dancer. Her fine shoulders
wend away to her narrow waist across the path of her lovely bosom leaving
slim arms and long, aesthetic hands of the finest gossamer-silk white in
their wake.
Emerald green graces the body of this enchanting woman, hugging curves with
tight velvety warmth. The neck is tall and starched to stand up about her
and accent her auburn hair, edged in ecru lace of the finest weave, but the
bodice is cut low enough to hint at the beauty beneath. The flowing skirt of
the dress splashes downward in a forest waterfall from the golden belt at
her waist. About her throat is a golden chain carrying an intricately worked
golden locket, the face of which is an carved of forest emerald and scrolled
with tiny swirls, matching a pair of gold and emerald earings.
A single strand of pearls is woven into Caeciliah's auburn hair in an
intricate braid, and a cascade of styled ringlets falls from the top of her
head over one of her shoulders, lending a waterfall of rosy highlighted
mahogany to her dress.

=======
OPHELIA:

Of average height, she carries the olive-toned complexion known to her
mother's side, though not as dark as most. Her lips are full, her nose
rounded and smallish. But her eyes are rimmed in thick lashes, and the
irises so darkly colored as to nearly be indistinguishable from the pupils.
Overall, her oval-shaped face is neither one of classic beauty, nor is it
hard on the eyes.

Her thick, black hair is absolutely straight, resisting any and all efforts
to hold the curls so stylish and luxurious to have. So instead, she wears it
parted in the middle, but swept up and bound with ribbons high on the top of
her head. Though simple, the coif is very elegant.

Whereas this lady is usually dressed very elegantly in figure accentuating
gowns, this latest creation is a bit of a departure. She wears a
high-waisted empire-style undergown of fine black satin, the top edge of a
white chemise peeking above the low-cut neckline. A sleeveless full
floor-length coat of burgundy and black brocade is over the gown, the
patterns in the brocade that of the Moritani fleur-de-lis. The sleeves of
the white chemise cover her arms, slashed down each side to show peeks of
her skin, though held closed by delicate ribbons in even intervals.

=======
BORIS:

Boris Harkonnen is a great bear of a man, his body a slab of muscle now
turning to fat with age. His head is shaven bald, his full white beard
plaited in braids that spill down his barrel chest.. Crystal blue eyes glint
maniacally under bushy white brows. He wears a red leather singlet with a
stiff high collar, the silver ram's-head insignia emblazoned on his left
breast. Black trousers, with a red stripe down each side, are tucked into
his knee-high gleaming boots. An elaborately gilded kindjal is worn in a
thigh sheath.

=======
FAHAHD:

        The face of a hardened warrior, with steely eyes that would strike
fear into the hearts of even the toughest of the Imperial forces....not
quite. In fact, the man's face is disarmingly boyish, making his real age
hard to tell. No scars or lines betray the hand of Time, save one: the lobe
of his left ear is simply gone, as if cut or ripped away.. The green eyes,
slightly slanted and posessed of a peculiarly innocent intensity bordering
on bewilderment, peer out from beneath slender brows, over high
cheekbones...the thin mouth is generally set in a thoughtful expression. The
rest of his features are slightly angular, giving him a gamine, somewhat
feral air. Hair of a deep ash blond is cropped close, giving it the
appearance of a marten's pelt - though glints of silver now spark among the
darker hairs, an odd contrast with the youthfulness of his face.
        Neither very bulky nor particularly large, he's sleek and compact,
with the build of a trained gymnast - all muscles in proportion. His
movement is fluid, with the speed and boneless grace of one of the small
furred fighters: a mongoose or marten, rather than a panther....though his
general stance is posessed of a peculiar solidity, seeming nearly unshakable
when his feet are planted. The squarish hands are strong and deft, adorned
with scars and calluses, rather than the soft skin and jeweled trinkets of
the nobility.
        He's neatly and soberly clad in the dark uniform of a member of the
Harkonnen Familiar Guard, with the silver chevrons that signal a Leutnants's
rank gleaming from collar and cuffs, and jackboots polished to a gleaming
gloss. On the left shoulder is a brightly embroidered patch: a white shield
emblazoned with an equal armed scarlet cross, surmounted by a silver sword -
the insignia of one who served in the campaign in the Outremer system on the
Bajazet frontier. From a sword belt of glossy black leather depends a
steel-hilted kindjal in a worn sheath. The belt also holds a maula pistol in
a snug holster, as well as a standard-issue shield generator, most often on
and humming contentedly. Despite the uniform and weaponry, his general air
seems more clerkish than martial.

=======
ANDREI:

     Andrei's red hair has been cut short in a military fashion that draws
attention to the intense grey eyes that dominate his angular face and the
otherwise handsome features that are marred by several large scars. One scar
runs in a jagged line over the right eye, and makes even a fleeting glance
appear somewhat disturbing. Smaller scars decorate his thin lips and square
jaw, and his nose looks as if it has been broken in the past.
     Dressed in the dark blue parade uniform of the Feldwehr 54th
Regiment--the Heir's Guard--he carries himself with great certainty, almost
arrogance. The uniform is embellished with purple and silver, and with gold
piping. Ribbons and medals tell of the Na-Baron's many victories in battle.
A combat model shield-belt is prominent around his waist, shield softly
humming, and attached to the belt is a broadsword, which he seems to prefer
over a rapier. His body, while fit, is not overly muscled, and he moves with
the confidence of a lord of the manor.

=======
IGRAINE:

        There are some women who seem to hold off the ravages of time with a
graceful hand, and indeed, this seems to be one of those women. She is
clearly no springtime flower, her face smooth unlined save for faint hints
about the eyes and mouth. She looks to be perhaps in her early forties, and
no less a beauty for it. Her hair is as a rich shade of scarlet, save for a
single streak of white over her brow, and has been swept up into an elegant
knot, leaving a few strands to sweep against her face and rest against her
neck. Brown eyes eyes regard the world from a serene countenance, with
features one may have find in an ancient Rennaisance portrait, or perhaps an
even older Mediterrenean vase. She moves with regal assurance, with the air
of a woman accustomed to having her environment change to suit her, rather
then the other way around.

        Her dove grey gown is plain in terms of frippery, yet the the cut is
one of classic elegance that never goes out of style. High collared, yet
open at the throat, the bodice is cross-tied at her waist, then flares out
to drop down to her feet. The long sleeves cover all the way to her wrists,
where just a bit of darker lace peaks out. Supple boots cover her feet,
adding a few inches to her height.

=======

========================BEGIN LOG========================

Mushtamal -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)(#380Rt)

        A large mushtamal, or garden courtyard, occupies the area between
the southeast and southwest wings of the Alvstad Estate. This garden,
however, contains only the sparest of plant life; instead, it resembles,
more than anything, a Zensufi rock garden. Large bluish rocks sit atop a
well-tended bed of dark sand, groomed into an intricate design by tiny
rakes. In the center of the mushtamal, a large circular pond ripples
peacefully. In the center of the pond, a large blue statue of a mermaid
gazes across the square toward a small blue statue of a seabird, which, in
turn, stares transfixed at the mermaid. Small, hardy plants poke out of both
the sand and the water, and tiny exotic fish dart across the pond. A wide,
circular stone path surrounds the garden and serves as a traffic loop, and
three orinthopter pads about the garden on the south, southeast, and
southwest sides.


Pers and Caeciliah wait patiently near the ornithopter pads, unsure of how
exactly to greet their guest. A small honor guard of four Alvsts waits
several paces behind them.

As the thopter descends, it slows considerably for a softer landing. Several
Moritani guardsmen alight, and help the Countess descend with great care.
With her, a younger man dressed in the liverie of House Moritani, a page,
certainly. When everyone is quite disembarked, Ophelia places her hand
lightly on the boy's shoulder, and he leads her forward to where their hosts
await. Flanking her, a pair of the Moritani guard stay in precise step,
their feet crunching sharply on the stone path. The Countess stops as the
boy does, and he bows low.

"His Excellency, the Lord Viscount Alvstad, and the Lady Helmsgillar. I
present Her Excellency, the Countess Moritani."

Pers clears his throat as he bows towards Ophelia. "Lady Contessa," he says
in clear and gentle tones, "I am quite touched that you have accepted our
invitation. Have you ever been formally introduced to the Lord Ambassador's
daughter?" He turns towards Caeciliah and bids her to step forward with his
left hand while he turns back to face the unseeing Moritani Siridar.

Caeciliah steps forward from her place beside the Viscount, slippered feet
making only a tiny sound as her skirts whisper around her in a gracefully
dignified curtsy, "A pleasure, Your Excellency, I do hope the day has found
you well." her words are carefully controlled and only slightly accented in
regards to the fluid syllables of her native tongue.

Ophelia manages a small but warm smile, her unseeing gaze of course staring
to some spot beyond Pers and Caeciliah. She clasps her hands before her,
having released the boy's shoulder when he bowed, and gives a nod in the
general direction of the introduced Lady. "I'm afraid I've not, cousine. But
I am indeed pleased to finally be so," she replies smoothly. "I am well,
m'Lady... and I cannot thank you both enough for the invitation out in such
beautiful weather. The fresh air is already quite.. invigorating."

As she clasps her hands, a string of garnet and jet beads swings freely from
her wrist, most of it wrapped loosely about that hand, though. Part of it
also appears to be clasped lightly in her closed hand.

Pers observes the beeds, but makes no audible comment as to his curiosity.
"The air on Kaitain is, as always, quit idyllic," Pers remarks pleasantly,
although his own taste for weather runs a bit more on the severe side.
"Would you care to ascend to the Clerestory? The windows may be opened,
offering a refreshing atmosphere with the comforts of a seat." He unclasps
his hands from behind his back and absently straightens his formal tunic,
resetting the ring on his finger. The Lady's manner is...unsettling.

Caeciliah smiles ever-so-slightly and steps forward a few more paces 'til
she's standing at the Contessa's side, "If you would care to adjourn with us
into the estate..." she offers her own hand to the Contessa, gently touching
the back of her hand with slender fingers.

Ophelia places her hand back on the boy's shoulder, and as she lifts her
other hand to accept the assistance of Caeciliah, a silver cross slips free
from her hand and swings from her wrist like the loose loop of beads. Thus,
the mysterious nature of the beads are revealed to be a rosary. Has the
Countess found religion?

"I would be delighted," Ophelia murmurs, as she nods.

Pers turns, his heels scraping against the cement underfoot. He glances once
to make sure that Caeciliah is leading the Countess before turning to ascend
the stairacase quickly, as is his custom. Three steps into it, however, he
deliberately slows his pace, almost appearing pained to do so as he ascends
up to the Estate.

You climb the Curving Staircase.

Aejir's Hall -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)(#940Rntu)

        The pitch-black world of the bottom of the sea is mirrored in the
darkly majestic facade hall of the Alvstad Estate. The silver inlayed floor
of black marble is overshadowed by towering walls of midnight glass, letting
in only the faintest of outside light to grace the shadows of the room. The
dome of the ceiling above is set with small glowlights forming the
constellations of the Alvsgaard sky, adding a touch more light to the watery
darkness. The pathway through this hall is marked by twin lines of silver
inscription in old Alvst, wending their way down the hall and towards the
depths of the estate.

        To either side of the marked pathway stand open pools of trickling
water, black as night in the nearly unlit room, but filled with tiny points
of brilliant light in red and blue and yellow coming from the tiny fish
darting in and out of their pond-like homes. At the back of the hall stands
a great fountain-statue displaying the mythical Lord of the Sea.

Exits:
 Heavy Double Doors <N> leads to Clerestory -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)
 Curving Staircase <D> leads to Mushtamal -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)

Caeciliah climbs up the Curving Staircase.
Ophelia climbs up the Curving Staircase.

You walk through the Heavy Double Doors.

Clerestory -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)(#1073Rtu)

        Perched atop the Estate, the clerestory presents multiple faces to
those who frequent it; stunningly bright on sunny days, quietly glittering
during the night, and thunderously drenched during rainfall. About one and a
half meters from the floor, four giant panes of glass slope towards the
room's center to form a truncated pyramid. Stone girders form a square brace
a few feet from the apex, supported by four columns carved in the forms of
beautiful Alvst men and women.

        Hallways run off in various directions, and gaping holes surrounded
by short bannisters in the corners of the room lead to four spiral
staircases. Scattered about on soft and springy floor mats of woven reeds
are a number of diverse seating areas, fitting numerous tastes and needs.
Servants await outside, leaving the room almost entirely empty save guests,
furnishings, and the view.

Exits:
 Hallway <N> leads to Hostelry -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)
 Spiral Staircases <D> leads to Grand Balcony -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)
 Heavy Double Doors <S> leads to Aejir's Hall -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)

Ophelia walks in from Aejir's Hall through the Heavy Double Doors.
Caeciliah walks in from Aejir's Hall through the Heavy Double Doors.

Caeciliah gently leads Ophelia into the room, her skirts whispering around
silent, slippered feet. Her destination appears to be a section near the
windows of the pyramid. She stops at a sofa and helps the countess to sit
before taking a seat in a nearby chair and waiting for Pers to join them,
"Would you care to take tea with us, Your Excellency?" she murmurs, as if to
avoid disturbing the quiet of the room.

"Tea would be lovely," Ophelia replies without hesitation. The boy who'd
also assisted in escorting her steps to the side, and back of the sofa,
though easily in an area where he might quickly dash out should assistance
be needed. He remains silent since his introduction, his eyes only peeking
up at the luxurious appointments of the interior of the estate in brief
glances.

The toll of a bell pierces the air as Pers pulls the ringer from the corner,
summoning servants. "It shall be served shortly," he says simply as he
crosses towards the couches from his erstwhile position in the far corner of
the room. "The Alvst taste for tea is a bit weaker than most, but I'm sure
the chefs shall accomodate differing tastes in their preparation." He sits
down on the couches, folding his arms over his chest and given the
appearance of a man not very used to sitting in such comfortable a seat.
"How has your health fared, Countess?"

Caeciliah is seated primly on the edge of her seat, rather than sinking into
its embrace. Her hands, previously folded in her lap gesture to a nearby
attendant who swiftly attends her. After a moment of whispering in his ear
he goes off to find something both palatable and convenient for the intent
looking page to snack on, knowing full well that adolescents are always
hungry, especially males.

Ophelia smiles slightly at the commentary, then chuckles quietly. "I'm sure
it will be fine as it is normally prepared, cousine. I shall drink it as you
drink it." She folds her hands in her lap, covering the rosary under her
hands again. "My health improves, and I count myself pretty much fully
recovered at this point... my arm has healed, as have the burns which were
on my face. Or rather, this is what I have been told, since I cannot see my
face myself. They tell me true, yes?"

Pers silently examines the Lady's face for several moments before
responding. "Your skin does appear much improved since last we met," he
agrees. "I am sure you will be quite well in time for the upcoming Kaitaini
events. I do hope to meet you at both."

"Events?" Ophelia queries. "Perhaps... secrets are being held from me again,
in the hopes that I will keep myself indoors. Do tell.. what events are
upcoming?"

Caeciliah nods slightly to a servant as the tea arrives on a number of
silver platters. One of them bearing a fine silver and beryl tea service.
She carefully pours a cup of tea for the Contessa, "What would you care for
in your tea, Your Excellency?" she pauses with the cup to make up a small
plate for her containing a few fine sesame crackers with caviar and a pair
of cocktail sandwiches of shrimp and water chestnut.

"The famed ballet the Rastanyev have sponsored for one," Pers says casually,
reaching out to prepare his own tea; though a Viscount, he tolerates little
baseless formality, and none can make Eskilsen's tea better than Eskilsen
himself. "And, of course, the Landsraad High Council Elections. An event in
its own right."

"Sugar, m'lady," Ophelia directs Caeciliah gently. Her assistant steps
forward, anticipating holding her saucer for her and freeing the Lady to
avail herself of the tea. "Ballet?" she murmurs, "Ahh.. yes. I do remember
murmurings of this. So, they're finally ready to give us a show, eh? I do
hope it's everything it's been touted to be..." No mention, as yet, is made
of the High Council elections.

Caeciliah adds a lump of sugar to the teacup and stirs it with a dainty
spoon before handing both the saucered cup and the plate to her attendant,
"There you are, Your Excellency, your paige has them for you." her attention
is piqued by the conversation even as she busies herself preparing a plate
for Pers, and then a cup of tea for herself along with a morsel of sandwich.

Pers takes a long sip of his tea, which from the look of it is nothing but
dirty water. "The Lady Regent was quite certain of their prowess," Pers
says, approvingly noting Caeciliah's manners. Odd terms to describe a dance
company, though. "The topic does sound rather fascinating."

The boy takes the cup and saucer in hand carefully, guiding the Countess'
hand to it so she might take her own teacup herself. Which she does,
carefully, and without spilling any of it. She holds it though, gently
cradled in her hand as she comments, "Mmm... perhaps I should go after all."

Caeciliah sips a little at her own tea, which resembles real tea much more
than Pers' does, strong brewed with cream and sugar. She nods her head in
Ophelia's general direction, not taking too much care with the movement
beyond natural reaction, "I would say so, Your Excellency. From what I have
heard it's going to be quite a memorable performance."

Over your communicator's secure frequency, a man's voice says, "Message from
ornithopter 3526, bound for Alvstad Estate, requesting clearance, "Baron
Harkonnen requesting clearance."

Speaking of memorable performances, Pers looks briefly at his chronometer.
The other guests should be arriving soon. "I believe that most of the
Siridarat plans on attendance, Lady Ophelia," he comments lightly while
examining a sandwich in his hand. Good craftsmanship, indeed. "It would be
unfortunate for you to be absent; your company is quite enjoyable."

You clear the vehicle over your communicator.

Pers sets down his sandwich after a surprisingly dainty bite. "You'll pardon
me for a moment, Contessa, but a guest has arrived...I shall rejoin you
shortly. Please do not hesitate to request anything of the Lady
Helmsgillar."

Over your communicator's secure frequency, a man's voice says, "Message from
ornithopter 3525, bound for Alvstad Estate, requesting clearance, "Reverend
Mother Superior Joachim-Ordos, at the invitation of the Siridar.""

You clear the vehicle over your communicator.

You walk through the Heavy Double Doors.

Aejir's Hall -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)(#940Rntu)

        The pitch-black world of the bottom of the sea is mirrored in the
darkly majestic facade hall of the Alvstad Estate. The silver inlayed floor
of black marble is overshadowed by towering walls of midnight glass, letting
in only the faintest of outside light to grace the shadows of the room. The
dome of the ceiling above is set with small glowlights forming the
constellations of the Alvsgaard sky, adding a touch more light to the watery
darkness. The pathway through this hall is marked by twin lines of silver
inscription in old Alvst, wending their way down the hall and towards the
depths of the estate.

        To either side of the marked pathway stand open pools of trickling
water, black as night in the nearly unlit room, but filled with tiny points
of brilliant light in red and blue and yellow coming from the tiny fish
darting in and out of their pond-like homes. At the back of the hall stands
a great fountain-statue displaying the mythical Lord of the Sea.

Exits:
 Heavy Double Doors <N> leads to Clerestory -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)
 Curving Staircase <D> leads to Mushtamal -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)

Boris climbs up the Curving Staircase.
Fahahd climbs up the Curving Staircase.
Andrei climbs up the Curving Staircase.
Igraine climbs up the Curving Staircase.

In what the Leutnant might recognize as a familiar scene, Pers stands on the
edge of the fountain in the dimly-lit Hall, arms folded across his chest.
Three guards are fanned out behind him, more of a fashion statement than
anything else. As the guests begin to trickle upwards into Aejir's expansive
court, he steps forward with crisp steps.

Igraine enters with a swish of her skirts, hair red as flame and only graced
with a bit of white for dignity. She enters without retinue, no doubt having
shushed off her pigeons at the ornithopter.

Boris is chatting with his son as they enter, marvelling at the walls of the
splendid room. "We ought to have some of these workmen over at the Embassy,
eh, lad?" he asks, happily. "And then--" he breaks off, seeing Igraine
enter, his countenance darkening.

Fahahd is his usual deadpan self. Not even a flicker as Igraine enters.

Andrei listens quietly to his father, nodding at his decisions. The na-baron
looks very well-groomed today, new uniform and all, carrying a small
jewelcovered box under his arm. "Indeed father. Grande idea if I say so
myself, cause when you..." his voice quiets as he notices his father stopped
talking, looking around what might've caused it.

Boris and Andrei are the first to receive Pers's welcome, having entered
before the Reverend Mother. "Lord Harkonnen, na-Baron," Pers calls amiably,
Boris's displeasure temporarily ignored. "Good evening to you, and my thanks
for responding to my invitation." With a slight bow, Pers turns to observe
his second guest.

A slight smile pulls at the corners of his lips as his gaze falls on
Igraine. "My Lady Ordos," he says somberly with a bow. "A good evening to
you as well."

Igraine seems decidedly pleased as she strides in. "Oh, do stop scowling,
Boris." The woman's voice is smooth, rich, humor filled. "Your countenance
is decidedly more interesting when you smile, or when you're killing
someone. I recieved your bitterblooms upon the death of my lord husband
those years ago, I never did get to thank you. Is this your and Ursula's
son? Sturdy looking boy, we'll have to have a bit of a chat. Ahh, Viscount.
Your hospitality is as ever, delightful."

<<Pers thinks: Chatty as always, Lady Igraine. What have the years changed
that I don't see?>>

Andrei raises a brow and then looks at his father. Only the slight upturning
of the corner of his mouth indicating the poltting machinations he inherited
of his mother have been put into gear again, seeing how this might perhaps
give him some leverage with Boris.

Fahahd looks down at his boots, like a schoolboy dragged unwillingly on an
outing.

Boris offers Pers a bow, and greets him with a rumbled, "Cher cousine and
old friend." He offers Igraine a stiffer bow and shows teeth in a smile.
"Your lord husband Ordos was a decent enough fellow, my lady, save for some
of his tastes. This is Andrei, my heir and first son by Ursula, who I am
sure would send her greetings were she here."

"The Lady Ophelia awaits in the Clerestory," Pers interjects firmly, tilting
his head and asserting his position as host. Past relationships are odd
relationships, but this is a party of good faith. "Shall we proceed? A tea
has been arranged."

<<Boris thinks: Tea? What is this, a sewing circle?>>

Igraine looks almost delighted by Boris' hostility. In fact she seems almost
nostalgic. "Indeed." She then ahh's. "Introductions will have to wait til we
arrive, then." she looks to Andrei. "Do be a dashing young na-Baron and
escort an old woman, my dear? My, but you do have the look of your mother
about you. She was quite a remarkable woman."

<<Andrei thinks: deep in...deep out...remember why you're here...fake
drinking the tea, smile polite...be nice...argh this isn't going to work!>>

Pers's expression becomes distantly pleased as he turns and leads on to
Clerestory, carefully sidestepping the black water that flows over tile.
Some forms of entertainment never cease to amuse.

You walk through the Heavy Double Doors.

Clerestory -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)(#1073Rtu)

        Perched atop the Estate, the clerestory presents multiple faces to
those who frequent it; stunningly bright on sunny days, quietly glittering
during the night, and thunderously drenched during rainfall. About one and a
half meters from the floor, four giant panes of glass slope towards the
room's center to form a truncated pyramid. Stone girders form a square brace
a few feet from the apex, supported by four columns carved in the forms of
beautiful Alvst men and women.

        Hallways run off in various directions, and gaping holes surrounded
by short bannisters in the corners of the room lead to four spiral
staircases. Scattered about on soft and springy floor mats of woven reeds
are a number of diverse seating areas, fitting numerous tastes and needs.
Servants await outside, leaving the room almost entirely empty save guests,
furnishings, and the view.

Players:
 Caeciliah                                          Ophelia
Exits:
 Hallway <N> leads to Hostelry -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)
 Spiral Staircases <D> leads to Grand Balcony -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)
 Heavy Double Doors <S> leads to Aejir's Hall -- Alvstad Estate (Kaitain)

"I have not been Contessa all my life, m'lady," Ophelia interjects gently.
"I was pulled from the fields to come to Kaitain, actually, when news of the
na-Count's death reached us."

Pers enters the Clerestory first; interestingly enough, no one follows him
at first. Unmindful of it, he returns to the couches and resumes his seat
(and his sandwich). Waiting for a pause in the conversation, he says, "The
Baron Harkonnen and the Bene Gesserit Lady Ordos have arrived," with a
practiced detachment.

Caeciliah ahhs silently as she finishes her cup of tea, "I understand. I
must say that the study of other great houses was not the most all-inclusive
of topics in my training." understandable, though she still found it hard to
believe that a close relation of the ruling family would be out toiling in
the vineyards... ah well, a different culture.

Ophelia grins wryly, shaking her head slightly. But any comment she might
have made is cut off by Pers' re-entrance. She turns her head, trying to
find his location in the room by listening, but, of course doesn't quite hit
her mark. "Ah, so the Baron has decided to join us after all... Wonderful."

Igraine walks in from Aejir's Hall through the Heavy Double Doors.
Igraine has arrived.
Boris walks in from Aejir's Hall through the Heavy Double Doors.
Boris has arrived.
Andrei walks in from Aejir's Hall through the Heavy Double Doors.
Andrei has arrived.

Pers nods fluidly. "Indeed. He has brought a small retinue with him, as
well, including his son." Caeciliah is given a brief but pointed look at
this. Turning, he observes Igraine's entrance. "Ah, here they are now."

Igraine steps in, of all things - on Boris' arm. She's smiling with placid
dignity, though there's a spark of mischief in her eyes.

All the windows in the Clerestory have been opened, creating a marvelous
cross-breeze that silently ripples through the sparsley furnished room.
Ophelia, Pers, and Caeciliah sit at a pair of couches near a window
overlooking the Estate grounds, a Moritani page attending the Countess.

Fahahd walks in from Aejir's Hall through the Heavy Double Doors.

Boris gives a good natured laugh at something Igraine said to him, shaking
his head at her and grinning as if an old friend reminded him of something
long forgotten.

Andrei is following in his father's shadow, eyes scanning the room quietly
until they fall upon Caeciliah. Longer than intended his eyes linger on her
until she makes eyecontact. Quickly he continues his sweep of the
clerestory, trying not to make his interest too obvious.

Ophelia apparently had expected that Boris had entered before, and is
somewhat surprised at the sudden announcement of the delayed entrance. She
covers it with a small laugh, though, her head turning to the side slightly
so that she might hear. "A small retinue, hmm? It sounds like half the
Harkonnen compound... but at least it seems spirits are certainly high
today."

Boris offers a bow to Ophelia. "My lady Contessa! This is a small planet,
eh?"

Pay no attention to the man behind the Baron. Fahd is is accustomed
unobtrusive shadow self, as he attends the Baron and his son.

Igraine disengages from Boris' arm, and smiles more gently. "Countess
Ophelia," she says gently, so as not to startled the younger woman.

Caeciliah smiles slightly at Ophelia's comment, but her eyes are captive to
the arriving guests as she gracefully rises from her seat to greet them, her
violet eyes pausing momentarily to glance a bit more carefully at the
na-baron. "Welcome to the estate, honored guests," she speaks in a gentle
voice so as not to disturb the Contessa, "Please make yourselves
comfortable, and as you can see, the tea is served." her voice is clipped
and precise again, a businesslike tone for a businesslike woman, her hands
already busying themselves with more teacups and plates of dainty shrimp and
waterchestnut sandwiches and sesame crackers with caviar even as she reseats
herself.

Boris mutters to Andrei, "... the Mother... lad. A dangerous..."

<<Andrei thinks: Okay...looks intelligent...good looks...no../great/ looks
even....attentive..businesslike...so what is wrong with her if Uli set me up
with her....>>

Ophelia is obviously quite unmarked by beastly scars as rumor might have
spread. Her smile warms all the more, and she joins in Boris' laughter. "It
is indeed, m'lord Baron, as this is only my second outing in months, though
it seems longer." Another voice addresses her, and her head again turns at
the sound -- but she winds up facing Pers. "Your Reverence... is it truly? I
am so pleased I didn't back out of this like I started to..."

Pers remains seated while Caeciliah takes care of the formalities. "Stronger
beverages are available at request," he adds with a sly smile without
turning. He drains the last of his tea, perhaps making room for such a drink
himself. He takes another dainty bite of the sandwich, however; it's clearly
a favorite. Tastes run odd.

Boris shrugs and looks relieved about the food. He seats himself and begins
to tuck in, spooning caviar into his maw using the edge of a sesame cracker.
He looks about, searching. "Tea?" he asks, incredulous. "Viscount, how about
a proper beverage, eh?"

Ophelia's attendant gently takes her tea cup from her before she manages to
forget the angle she holds it at and spills it.

Over your communicator's secure frequency, a man's voice says, "Message from
ornithopter 3525, bound for Alvstad Estate, requesting clearance, "General
Rhedek Maas-Stroheim requests landing clearance.""

Pers rises from his seat with purpose in his steps, crossing to the edge of
the hallway and ringing a small brass bell mounted on the wall. "We are
attempting to nurse the Countess back to health with a positive atmosphere,
Lord Baron; I do hope one of our hot saguavids will please your palate." He
takes his seat once more, eyeing Igraine discretely to see her reaction to
the blind Contessa. If anyone knows etiquette, it's a Bene Gesserit.

You clear the vehicle over your communicator.

Igraine moves to sit beside Ophelia after a brief acknowledging sweep of her
skirts to Pers for his leniencies, and takes the young woman's hand. "I'm
pleased to see you hale and healthy, and hope you recouperate fully in short
time." She muses internally on what might be done for the Countess - perhaps
a bit of pressure point work to alleviate certain pressure on the nerves...

Rhedek walks in from Aejir's Hall through the Heavy Double Doors.

Caeciliah puts together a small plate of crackers and sandwiches for the
Reverend Mother, and then pours her a cup of tea, "Excuse me, your
reverence, how do you care for your tea?" her question shows the soul of
gentility, if she's at all uneasy in the presence of such a powerful Bene
Gesserit, she doesn't show it.

"Oh, but I feel perfectly recuperated now," Ophelia pronounces, shaking her
head. "Even the Suks have pronounced me in perfect health." She startles at
first, not realizing who is holding her hand. But at the voice so close to
her, she relaxes, it must be the Reverend Mother.

Andrei nods at Boris and takes a few steps in Caeciliah's direction. Taking
a deep breath a smile forms on his lips and that Harkonnen 'charm' wakes up
inside him. Not sure what the protocol at Alvstad is he speaks quietly.
"Milady? It is an honour to finally meet you. My sister has told me many
stories about you and I must say, seeing you here myself, they pale compared
to the real you." Feigning a little shiness he fumbles with the little box.
"I..uh, hope you will accept this gift from my hand?"

Boris shrugs, washing down the roe with hot lashings of sanguavid.
"Excellent," he breathes, relieved; he seems as concerned as usual with
someone else's misery and misfortune. "A little of this medicine is just
what you need, Contessa." He eyes his son across the room.

Pers looks more content with giving his repast more attention than the
boyish fumblings of Andrei. He raises his own cup towards the Baron in a
brief and unspoken toast before drinking deeply of the peppermint-thyme
brew. "I would recommend it indeed, Lady Ophelia; saguavids are often the
only medications stocked on Alvstad ships."

Caeciliah looks up from the teacup in her hand and into Andrei's eyes, her
gaze unwavering, her lips touched by a tiny smile, "Why thank you, My Lord.
Please accept my gracious thanks." hrm, is it just a coincidence, or does
her voice and demeanor seem a little bit softer all of a sudden, a little
more like a Kaitanian noblewoman than a cold Alvst Lady.

        Up the towering spiral staircase comes the General, lumbering away -
marking each step with muted wonderment at the palatial spread the good Lord
Admiral has to call his home. Such splendor! And, for once, not out of
character to his mind. After all, opulence in the eyes of all is a waste,
but to forge one's home with the same mind is quite a different matter.
Rather bewitching in its way.

        Up the stairs he goes, and at the landing finds pages at the ready -
a polite nod is given them, and he stands quietly awaiting the announcement
soon to come.

Igraine says softly, "Lady Caeciliah, you're looking well." The Reverend
Mother offers the young woman a discreet nod.

Andrei presents Caeciliah with the jewelcovered box. He demonstrates it's
working. "The small lock on the box is a zensunni puzzlelock. You open it by
placing your fingers here and here....if you permit?" he looks questioningly
at Caeciliah, holding out his right hand, holding the box in his left.

The Alvst page flips out his hand and walks with quick step towards the
Viscount, the Harkonnen Warmaster in his trail. The lad bows stiffly,
catching Pers's attention without speaking.

Pers dismisses him with a curt nod, looking up at Rhedek. "General," he
says, lifting mug to his lips. "How good of you to attend upon your Baron
this evening. Do be seated." He redirects his attention to Igraine with a
brief glance at Caeciliah and Andrei...interesting.

Boris, seated on a divan, finishes his caviar and gives a belch, smacking
his lips noisily.

Ophelia turns her head a few more times, this way and that, the constant
conversation drawing her attention this way and that. But her brow slowly
begins to furrow. Such a large crowd, clearly, she is not yet accustomed to.

Fahahd is pointedly not looking at the Na-Baron and the object of his
affection. He's also avoiding any sight of Igraine.

Caeciliah inclines her head and rises gracefully, setting aside the Reverend
Mother's tea for the time being and offering her hand to Andrei, "Why, how
positively lovely." she comes close to exclaiming with real pleasure.

Igraine murmurs, "Ah, the Warmaster Rhedek." lowly. Perhaps a superfluous
observation, but also a discreet and courteous way of keeping Ophelia
updated.

<<Boris thinks: Andrei's acting like a schoolboy, Ophelia's ruined, the
witch is holding court, and there isn't any decent wine to be found for
kilometers. On the whole, I'd rather be home with Uli or crossing swords
with Sen. Oh, well, make the best of it, Boris.>>

        He is a brawny landmine, the General, bowing deeply to the Lord
Admiral and his entourage before doing the same for the Baronial party. Off
then to Boris' side, though his eyes do not leave Ophelia. How curious.

Pers's attention slips from Igraine to the Ophelia. "Perhaps you would care
to accompany me to the Kitchens, Contessa?" he asks quietly. "It would
appear the good Baron will require more to satiate his appetite, and the
walk is quite refreshing." The offer is earnest, and Pers leans slightly
forward in his seat, ready to rise.

Boris says, "Ah, General, have some of this sanguavid, eh? I recommend it."

"General?" Ophelia echoes the Reverend Mother, a little too loudly. "And
he's not yet greeted me?"

Boris nods to Rhedek. "Don't just stand there, General, attend the
Contessa."

        "As you command," the big man rumbles, reaching for a glass of the
stuff - and then moves to address the Countess as he does so. "Forgive me,
Countess," replies the General. "I had yet to be addressed." Addressment
turns to escort and the tower looms toward Ophelia, drifting inexorably
toward her to stop not far at her side. "It is, as always, a great pleasure
to see you."

Andrei carefully places Caeciliahs' hand on the lock, placing every finger
precisely. "Feel the indents in the gold plating?" he asks her, gently
giving the woman's fingers a little nudge. With a mechanic whirr the lock
snaps open and the lid flips up. Inside the box is covered with frostmirrors
and little sculptures depicting an Alvstad seashore scenery with little
boats sailing along the coastline, moved around by intricate mechanics. The
whole diorama moves to the gentle sounds of an Alvstad folksong about ships
that sail out and come back home after many months at sea.

Igraine pats Ophelia's hand gently, her own firm. "He's only just arrived,
my dear." she looks up at the looming man, a slightly quirked smile on her
lips. "General. An honor."

        "Your Reverence." A bow for the silver beauty, too - but nothing
else. So much for the conversant gentleman.

Pers's lips purse briefly. "Baron, perhaps you'd care to accompany me,
then?" he asks, turning to the man whose boredom is beginning to show. "Feel
free to select a desired specimen from our aquariums."

Ophelia lifts her other hand from her lap for the General, the other still
quite occupied by the Reverend Mother. The rosary curled and coiled there
formerly under her hand is quite revealed. But the Viscount's offer isn't
answered. Perhaps it was genuinely missed in the din.

Caeciliah's free hand rises to her mouth which has formed a silent and
surprised O, her eyes widen slightly at the beauty of the object, the finger
positions, however, are stored away in the little corner of her mind which
always remains analytical. "My Lord, this is truly an exquisite gift. I have
heard much of you, but never of such charm and thoughtfullness." her tones
are dulcet, their carefully manicured manner slipping into a more endearing
and musical accent.

<<Pers thinks: Perhaps you'd best go into what you *have* heard, Lady
Helmsgillar. His response would be memorable.>>

        The gargoyle takes the Countess' hand - with just a twitch of
hesitation, for it leaves his sword arm occupied - but remains otherwise
unmoved. Truly, business as usual with the lord of the Harkonnen military
machine; as dull and featureless as blue Harko stone.

Andrei smiles and bows politely, handing over the box into Caeciliah's care.
"I am glad you like it." he says softly before looking for a seat. His eyes
returning to Caeciliah he adds, "Would milady find me too forward to ask if
i could sit with her?"

Igraine removes her own briefly from Ophelia's free one. A bit of pressure
here, a press against the nerve there. Hopefully, some result may occur
gradually.

Caeciliah smiles prettily, receding back into her mask just slightly, and
nods her head, "Consider yourself invited, My Lord." she speaks, her words
still musical, as one hand gestures to a sofa and the other secrets the box
in a hidden pocket.

Boris studies Caeciliah a moment. How like her father she is, he muses.

Andrei again nods and olds out his hand for Caeciliah again, helping her to
get seated on the sofa before joining her there.

Igraine watches all this with a faintly amused eye. How cute. The parents
are chaperoning the first date.

Caeciliah allows herself to be aided in seating, primly smoothing her skirt
beneath her with her free hand, and then immediately reaching out to the
central table to prepare a plate of sandwiches and crackers for her seat
partner, but waiting before pouring the tea, "Would you care for tea, My
Lord?" she queries, once again playing the genteel hostess.

"I would wager," Pers announces suddenly with firm voice and directed
purpose, "That it has been quite some time since the Siridari of our
respective Houses have been so seated. Much less with a Reverend Mother," he
adds, nodding to Igraine. He pauses for a long while...and then it becomes
he has no intention of adding anything to that observation at present.
Instead, he takes a stately sip of his saguavid.

Igraine sips her tea. "It is even longer," Igraine observes in quiet
serenity, "That three of our generation have sat in such a social gathering
with each other."

Ophelia listens to the observation, then nods slowly. "We have... what...
about half of the Siridari on Kaitain with us this evening?"

Boris nods, starting in on the little shrimps before him. "Your generation?"
he asks Igraine, idle. "You mean you elderly folk, my lady?"

Andrei smiles. "I would love some." he responds to Caeciliah's query, his
mind now totally focused on her. The rest of the room apparently doesn't
filter in anymore as he is focused on her.

Igraine grins at Boris. "You -do- recognize your own after all. I began to
think age had addled your wits."

Caeciliah nods her head and pours his tea into a silver cup, offering it to
him with the plate of food. She, however, is not oblivious to her
surroundings, nor has she forgotten her duty as she prepares the Reverend
Mother a fresh cup of tea and mentally tallies the years, but fails to
mention the fact that the good Baron is older than the Reverend Mother, "How
do you take your tea, your Reverence?" she queries once again.

Boris scowls. "I'll be dead before anything on -me- is addled." he huffs.

Pers regards the seated with an icy smile. "Age addles a good deal in those
unprepared for its advance. Luckily, I spent much of my youth training for
old age." He turns to Ophelia, and his tone softens almost imperceptibly.
"Indeed, Lady Ophelia. And three of the more affluent Houses in the
Landsraad nonetheless."

Igraine says winningly, "Milk and sugar, my dear. I've something of a sweet
tooth."

<<Boris thinks: Don't forget the chaumurky, Caeciliah. One can hope.>>

Caeciliah finishes the tea with a flourish of the creamer and a pair of
sugar lumps from the sugar bowl before handing it to the reverend mother
along with a small plate of the offered fare, "There you are, Your
Reverence."
Andrei accepts his cup with a grateful smile, sipping it with care as the
outside world slowly starts coming into focus again.

Igraine smiles sunnily at Boris. He's so easy to read.
Igraine says, "Ah, thank you my dear."

Boris says, "And what good's all that money without the power to spend it?
That's what we need, eh? A real grasp on power. What a hold we'd have on the
Council, eh?"

<<Pers thinks: Bless your directness, Baron. I'd rather not play a fool's
game about this any longer.>>

Ophelia's lips curve slowly. So, this is the real reason for this gathering.
Ah... blessed politics.

Igraine listens, well content and contained within herself. For such a
vibrant woman, she's surprisingly good at fading into the background.

Andrei hears the dreaded politics enter the conversation again. Quickly he
takes another sip before he feels compelled to enter the fray. No, he has
promised to be good and make a good impression.

Pers tries not to perk up too quickly at Boris's observation. "Indeed,
Baron. Though there are no doubt many who'd rather not see such a situation,
hmm?" Ever the pessimist: define a goal by it's opponents.

<<Caeciliah thinks: Dear me, I do hope that the Baron isn't going to make a
scene of this, I don't know whether the poor Contessa can deal with him at
the moment... And Andrei, I wonder what to make of him, some say he's a
beast, but he certainly isn't showing it tonight...>>

Boris gulps another sanguavid. "Damn them, Pers. I daresay with the three of
us on the Council, there wouldn't be a house in the 'Raad that would lift a
finger against us. The Council's the arbiter of justice. We'd give justice a
whole new meaning, eh? Just us!" He crackles with mirth at his own jest.

Caeciliah's face shows a slight drop in her rigid formality as her
ponderings overwhelm hard bought control, ah well. Her own attention is
piqued with the mention of politics, nothing but interest there, after all,
an awful lot of interesting information for later digestion could be tossed
about at this supposedly mild mannered tea party.

Pers cracks a full and unreserved smile, more at the Baron's attitude than
the jest itself. He refrains from comment, however, turning to Ophelia to
see what, if any, comment she has. Belatedly, he glances at Igraine,
suddenly reminded of her presence once more.

Boris is about to amplify, when he follows Pers' gaze and seems also to
realize who else is here. He taunts, "Even the Sisterhood would have to
stand up and take notice of such a development, eh, my lady Igraine?"

"And think you the votes in this room sufficient to arrange such a victory?"
Ophelia murmurs quietly, hearing the lull in the conversation and feeling
like eyes are on her, despite not being able to see them. Oh, to flee being
cornered on this topic with the convenient, but true, excuse of a headache,
or not... that, actually, is the question.

Andrei cringes and can't help himself. putting the cup back into its saucer
he takes a little breath of air before speaking. "Father...um, perhaps it;s
my youth and inexperience in the field of landsraad politics but please
enlighten me...us all how you think to overcome the Atreides-Ginaz entente?
Their votes are needed to establish your plans and I figure it'd have to
snow on Kaitain first before our cousins the Atreides will warm up to us
enough to put their votes in for us...Or are there macinations in the
working we don't know about?"

Boris jokes with his son, "Oh, I plan to marry you off to that great sow
Margot, boy." He roars with laughter.

Pers turns to Andrei and merely looks at him, decidedly unimpressed, before
returning his attention to Igraine. The Baron's question remains unanswered.

<<Pers thinks: Daft lad. Caeciliah can do decidedly better.>>

Ophelia chuckles politely. Perhaps it isn't best just now to mention her own
cousin is actually betrothed to that 'sow'. However, she does interject,
"Beware, my dear Baron. Already, your opponents are peddling their votes
amongst those who might run. A vote for the High Council, in exchange for
support of their charge of proces verbal."

Igraine flicks her brow upward to Pers. "Yes, my dear Viscount?"

Andrei smirks. "Ah yes...the last time you had such an idea didn't that
house revolt and kick out every Atreides ever friendly towards us." he
remarks quietly. quickly het takes another sip of his tea before he /really/
starts going for the jugular.

Caeciliah gives Andrei a subtle glance before turning back to Boris and
Pers, "I doubt, lord Baron, that her Majesty Margot would ever descend from
her lofty greatness to wed someone of Harkonnen blood... The greatest
necessity at present is to find a wedge to drive between the Atreides and
the Ginaz, for that union shows promise of being our greatest competition.
Already we have seen favorable reactions from our meetings with the
Restanyev, their addition to this little grouping of allied great houses
would be of great benefit if it could be arranged, for our four houses
against their two would be a force to be dealt with."

<<Caeciliah thinks: Well, maybe politics aren't his arena, I've heard he's
no slouch on the battlefield, but he isn't a great general either, by any
account. Perhaps a marriage here isn't such a bad idea, one doesn't wonder
who the power behind the baronetcy would lie, certainly not with his
siblings...>>

Boris makes a dismissive gesture. "My opponents are turbanned trash, hiding
behind claims of proces verbal. Let them come, I say, with their solicitors
and charges! Damn their eyes. I've all the facts I need." Facts in House
Harkonnen usually being whatever the Baron says they are.

Ophelia grins silently to herself, the Baron's reponse quite expected.
Perhaps he'll heed the warning, perhaps he'll not. At least it was given.

Pers inhales slowly and responds, "I simply wondered where your late husband
would have stood on the issue, Lady Ordos," he says with a polite smile. Not
'your reverence.' Not until she makes her desires clear, at least.

Boris nods, impressed, pointing at the young lady's words. "Lady Caeciliah,
now that's an observation worthy of your esteemed father. We'll take a wedge
and hammer it into the sow's beating heart, eh Pers my friend?"

Pers turns and gives Boris a cool smile. Perhaps that's exactly what he
wants. Perhaps he's indulging his guest. Perhaps he's drunk. "It would be an
interesting site, Lord Baron; certainly the thought warrants further
consideration...and preparation." He turns to Ophelia, saying, "Military
build-ups inspire such things in the Landsraad, my Lady. Predictable, no
doubt."

Andrei quirks a brow. "There's nothing as dangerous as a hungry pig
father....you don't take away its treats and expect to be left with any
fingers..."

Igraine says only, "I believe my dear husband would have stood where the
most profit were to be made, and the pleasure of being conjoined in efforts
with those Siridar he was most companionable with would please him. I'm
afraid if you wish to know the -current- mindset of House Ordos, you would
need to speak to my son."

<<Andrei thinks: you should know if one looks over your own
tablemanners...Don't forget that sow is a Corinno in disguise and more
dangerous than you give her credit for...>>

<<Pers thinks: The lad acts like a Harkonnen, but certainly doesn't think
like one.>>

Boris rumbles, "A good lad, that son of yours, every bit his father's son."

Caeciliah appears to ponder for a moment before responding, "Perhaps the
analogy of swine is pertinent to the situation. The Atreides are a popular
house, but not a rich one, perhaps with a union of our affluent houses we
might make a suitable and untraceable donation to purchase their favor." her
eyes gleam a little more, "Or orchestrate something more devious, perhaps to
use a traitorous account against them, for the Atreides pride above all
their honor and their trumpeted justice, perhaps a threatened airing of
their dirty laundry might go far to persuade them..."

Boris indicates Caeciliah. "Where have you been hiding her, Pers?"

Pers arches an eyebrow and remarks, "She truly is the Lord Ambassador's
Daughter, all other titles and ranks aside, Lord Baron. You'll not find a
dullard in my service." He seems proud of the girl in a grandfatherly sense,
and she's clearly too good for Andrei in his mind.

Ophelia frees her hand of Rhedek's, pressing her fingertips lightly to her
temple briefly. Slowly, carefully, she gathers herself and rises to her
feet, her young attendant slipping out from behind the corner of the sofa to
her side to guide her. "Perhaps... it is time that I regretfully end my
outing. I fear I must plead a horrid headache."

Silently, the rosary slips down her skirts and lands on the cushion of the
matted floor, its sound dampened by the padding at her feet.

Igraine looks after Ophelia departs, hiding her pleasure. The headache is
indictive of the young woman's blood vessels reacting - a good sign. She
turns her attention back to the conversation.

Pers rises briefly to offer Ophelia a light bow. "If you're too tired to
travel, my Lady, I would offer the services of our Hostelry to you; a
comfortable bed and the attention of a Suk are but footsteps away."

Boris rises. He speaks a little too loudly, even louder than he usually
does. "Contessa, allow me to offer you a ride on my personal thopter, eh?"

Andrei can't help but grin at Boris' innuendo...probably not intended as
such but hey, Harkonnen minds go the distance when it comes to good
innuendo.

Ophelia declines the offer with a shake of her head, though she does quite
needfully lean on the poor boy heavily. "You are so very kind, cousine," she
murmurs, her voice dropping near to a whisper. And then Boris' voice quite
stabs at her ears, and she immediately flinches away from the sound, wincing
in pain. It is only by her teeth clenched tightly together that she manages
to not actually whimper with the pain of it. Again, she declines that offer
as well, and gives the boy's shoulder an urgent squeeze. Get me out of here!

Caeciliah rises slowly, and regretfully, "I do hate to leave you here,
especially in the middle of such an interesting discussion, but I do have a
number of tasks tomorrow which require me to be at my best, so I must bid
you all farewell and good night. I do hope you enjoyed the tea." she turns
and offers her hand to Andrei, "And, My Lord, I do wish to thank you
heartfully once again for your exquisite gift."

Andrei puts his cup and saucer aside, standing as well and taking
Caeciliah's hand, kissing it courteously. "I hope that my presence today
will have encouraged you to see me again? Perhaps soon? Over lunch?"

Ophelia walks to the south and passes through the Heavy Double Doors.

Caeciliah smiles a subtle smile, "I would very much enjoy that, My Lord."
she curtsies gracefully to the remaining nobility before swiftly retreating
from the room.

Caeciliah descends the Spiral Staircases.

Boris offers a bow to Pers. "And thank you for your hospitality, Viscount,
and your--" brief scowl at Igraine, "company."

Igraine throws Boris a smile. He recognizes it.

Andrei grins victoriously, falling into line with Boris, bowing to the
remaining people. "Milord, reverend mother."

Pers returns Boris's bow, a brief smile on his lips. "Of course, Baron. We
shall speak later. Good evening, na-Baron."

<<Andrei thinks: okay....that went well, now lets see if we can thaw her up
enough for some harkonnen hospitality next time.>>

Boris walks to the south and passes through the Heavy Double Doors.
Andrei walks to the south and passes through the Heavy Double Doors.

As the last of the Harkonnens ventures out, Pers turns to face the Reverend
Mother, taking a closer look at her for a moment, a single straw-golden
eyebrow arched high. "I hope you found the evening's company enjoyable, my
Lady," he says, his tone curious.

Igraine smiles serenely, "Wasn't I always one who enjoyed gatherings, my
dear Viscount?"

Pers responds with a partial smile of his own. "If memory serves, you were
indeed," he replies with a slight nod. "There are many, however, that grow
disagreeable with time. I'm quite pleased to see you are not among them."

Igraine smiles. "It is good to be so well remembered. I do confess to being
surprised by the invitation... not many are aware that I had chosen to
return to the Sisterhood after my lord's death. Or for that matter, that I
had become Mother Superior."

Pers nods smoothly. "I was...taken aback by the news, though your decision
speaks of careful thought. I've always had the utmost respect for the
Sisterhood, as have the previous Viscounts of House Alvstad. I can think of
few other ways to purposefully spend one's time after marriage." He pauses
thoughtfully, then adds, "Perhaps I have found another. We shall see."

Igraine smiles warmly. "My children were dismayed with my choice, but
respectful of it." she tilts her head. "Surely my friend, you have brought
me to your estate for some purpose? Or was it just to find out what my
beloved Aeovar would have thought of your deal with the proverbial Devil?"
she says the last lightly, clearly in jest. She's never been as fanatically
disgusted with the Harkonnens as some Bene Gesserit have been portrayed as
being.

Pers actually chuckles at your comment, a dry sound with a sly and subtle
sense of humor behind it. "The latter did play a role in my thinking, Lady
Ordos; but not in the way which you might believe. I seek more than your
late husband's opinion, or your own opinion for that matter; I wished to see
what counsel you might give on the matter." Well, isn't *that* audacious.

Igraine smiles. "And surely you knew my counsel would be best sought in
private?"

Pers inclines his head once more. "Of course. But I also knew that you'd
learn more of the situation through observation than through any second hand
re-telling. And...I wished to see you again. I am allowed one innocent
motive, am I not?"

Igraine smiles. "It is kind of you, Pers." she says gently. "I fear that I
am a most irrevrent Mother Superior, I leave the Council on Wallach IX
rather baffled; yet they know they would not have me in this position if
they did not know it is right. And being in seclusion for so long, I had
worried that those who were my friends and companions when my lord was hale
and hearty would choose to distance themselves from me after I opted to
return to the Sisterhood."

"Distrust of the Bene Gesserit does run deep in some circles," Pers agrees
thoughtfully. "Though far too much of it is based in supersition or
ignorance for me to put any stock in. It would take a good deal more to make
me flee from your presence, my Lady," he says amiably. "As for this
Council...if they chose you, they shall support you."

Igraine smiles wider. "You're going to make me blush, and I'm far too old
for that." she teases coyly, and reclines. "This is a lovely estate, Lord
Viscount. And the Ambassador's daughter...what a marvelous girl. You must be
very pleased. Will you wed her to the Harkonnen heir?"

Pers looks momentarily perturbed to see so much of the issue being cut away,
but he quickly ignores the sensation; one should expect such when dealing
with a Reverend Mother. "Most probably, though the lad seems a bit too
unstable for my care. I'd not send her in to such a marriage without
significant preparation. Sadly, however, we've no male heir to wed to the
Baron's daughter, and his other son is a bit of an agoraphobe. A formal
relationship between our Houses has been wanting for so long...it seems
ideal." He purses his lips and looks up at you. "What's your opinion of the
na-Baron? Will he succeed Boris?"

Igraine admits frankly, "Without a chance to observe his other children, I
do not know. Boris is, despite his tendency to air a very public display of
barbarianism, a very clever man. The na-Baron seems to lack a certain grace
and sophistication, I might even dare call it naivete. He does also
obviously have the viscious streak some Harkonnen are known for gaining
through their blood rather then by the nature and living conditions of the
House. I suspect of the na-Baron that a properly willful and clever woman
could manage him quite well."

Igraine turns him a pointed look. "You should however, prepare this young
woman fully for the extend of barbary that can be expressed within
Harkonnen."

Once again, Pers's lips are threatened by a smile. "Remarkable," he murmurs.
"It is, at least, worth the effort; even assuming one of the two were to die
early on, the bond forged by such a marriage would last." At your reminder,
Pers nods somberly. "Of course. Her education in such things began shortly
after her arrival on Kaitain. I have been doing my best to cultivate a
friendship between her and the Baron's daughter...an introductory lesson, as
it were."

Igraine ah's. "I've heard things about the Baron's daughter." she says
non-commitally.

Pers seems content to let sleeping beasts lie. "As have I," he says, "and I
simply don't know where belief should begin. She's certainly a common object
amongst gossipers. And perhaps more suited to be heir than Andrei himself; a
friendship seemed like a prudent decision in many respects."

Igraine notes, "Were the Harkonnen not so predisposed against the Bene
Gesserit, the word that has reached my ears is that we'd have taken her. As
it stands, what little I am able to gather is that she is admired on one
hand as the quintessential Harkonnen and the apple of dear Boris' eye, and
summarily, many Houses feel that such a woman is wasted amongst the Rams."
she gives a shrug. "I will know more when I see her, and the second
son...Mikael, I believe." she leans back. "You're wise to pursue a
friendship between the girls. And frankly, I'm surprised you're marrying off
young Caeciliah and not looking for a bride for yourself as well. It's not
as if you have an excuse not to."

As the conversation topic turns, Pers's expression becomes distantly
thoughtful. "The matter has crossed my mind repeatedly, Lady Igraine.
However...there are many factors to consider. Marrying a female Siridar
would cause far too many problems with respect to inheritance, and simply
put, there are no Houses with which I would care to follow so keen an
alliance. Ideally, the Lady Garamond would once again assume the Alvstad
name...but..." He offers a light shrug. "She is more interested in various
amorous pursuits. I also would find it difficult to marry a woman young
enough to be a daughter...they seem rather...flighty." The word falls from
his lips in an odd fashion.

Igraine chuckles just a touch. "And what of a concubine?" she inquires
archly.

Pers responds to Igraine's laughter with an almost timid smile. "I've little
need of...dalliance...at the moment," he concedes. "And with the Lady
Caeciliah serving as Castelaine..." He trails off, then says, "A trained
concubine would perhaps be of use. But concubines bring no political favor."

Igraine looks to Pers. "Before I was Aeovar's wife," she reminds, "I was his
concubine. While it is true that a concubine cannot bring favor with the
binding, she -can- bring you political favor through her actions, and
through the production of an heir." And then, with an air of wickedness, "My
dear Pers, even having passed your tenth decade, I have no doubt that your
virility is still quite in place, and though you may not 'need' such
pursuits, I daresay you're not so old as to have lost your enjoyment of it."

Pers arches an eyebrow smoothly, years of prudish Alvstad training being
quite suddenly assaulted, and him not even caring about it. "Perhaps you are
right," he concedes, his smile locked on his face with pure force of will.
"Am I to assume that the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood might be interested in
providing such a concubine?"
Igraine says with deceptive placidity, "Don't be silly. You may assume
anything you wish, but yes, dear friend, the Sisterhood would gladly provide
you with a concubine, and as a gift from me to you, I would train her
myself." Her eyes glint. The concubines trained by Igraine are far more
expensive then most - her excellent training is part of what won her the
position of Mother Superior.

Pers nods with surprising graciousness. "Your offer is quite welcome, Lady
Igraine...I shall be most interested to see whom you select to train.
Alvstad peculiarities are quite difficult for many to handle." He adds a
slight smile at this statement, well aware of just how many people he has
personally forced to endure such peculiarities himself.

Igraine smiles. "I'm sure I'll be able to reach an understanding." she says.
"Shall I look for any particular physical characteristics? I wouldn't want
to send you someone that might not be to your taste."

"It has been a considerably long time since I have considered such things,"
Pers says after a pause. "And I find I would trust your judgement before
attempting to detail things of no consequence. Her tasks shall conform to
her characteristics; function fits form." How wonderfully Alvst.

Igraine grins. "Right. A redhead, then." she quips teasingly.

Pers turns his face as if to respond, but merely looks at Igraine, features
composed, refusing to rise to the bait. "I defer to your wisdom, Lady
Ordos," he says dryly.

This comment finally evokes an unabashed smile from Pers. "Indeed not, my
Lady, indeed not." He picks up his mug and drains the last of his saguavid,
the alcohol adding an additional spike to his breath. "Perhaps we'd do best
to follow the example of those younger than ourselves and retire for the
evening; it does grow late.

Igraine's brow slowly rises, there are all kinds of questions in the arch of
that lovely brow. Or perhaps just one.

Pers looks up from his empty mug after a moment's awkward silence. Arching
an eyebrow, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.
Stoicism is something which most Alvst can pull off by age 3, and Pers is
certainly a model example. Let the Reverend Mother have the last word on
this one.

Igraine grins internally - past his century mark and still puffing up like a
rooster. And with age does come skill. She rises, stepping over and waiting
for him to rise as well. "I do hope you have those delightful shark's eyes
for breakfast." she notes gaily. "And I do hope your servants remember how I
like them prepared."

Though his lips do tremble just enough for a Bene Gesserit to notice, Pers
maintains his blank expression with admirable fortitude. "As I told the
Baron, there are no dullards in my service," he replies with a twinkle in
his slate-green eyes. His fingers press against the arms of his chair and he
rises up. Rooster indeed -- just under six feet, but he looks like he's
standing taller than the Imperial Palace. He extends his arm, the very image
of a gentleman. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Her hand is placed on his arm, and as they depart the room she
adds wickedly, "Several times, I imagine."

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