Who let the cats out?

["Felizia al-Bahir" <felizia@angelfire.com>]

1/28/2002
Logfile from Dune-Felizia

Where the Great Houses vie for power in the Padishah Imperium....

---------Felizia---------
Diminutive in size, being rather petite on the whole, she certainly doesn't hold a commanding presence. Her costume is wholly unique to Kaitain, though clearly something more traditional of Bajazet garb. A surcoat of sorts, in black brocade, flares at the waist though it is tight-fitting in the bodice, falling to well below her knees. Its buttons are undone mid-way down to her stomach, the unfastened top part of the surcoat pulled aside to better show the fine embroidery on the stark white chemise, and a red silken vest. Not to mention enhancement of her very feminine figure. The wide sleeves of the surcoat are folded back on themselves, revealing a lining shot with gold embroidered designs, and fingertips stained red with henna that peek from beneath the gathered sleeves of the chemise.

A red velvet belt, crescent-shaped and heavily accented with golden threads and seed pearls, cinches her narrow waist. The bottom edges of the surcoat's opening are swept up and to the sides, tucked into the belt to reveal again the knee-length delicate chemise and rich vest. Beneath it, her full, baggy trousers in black silk are gathered at the ankle, her feet covered by velvet slippers decorated in beads and pearls -- the toe of each shoe coming to a sharp point and curling back on itself. More henna designs are visible on the tops of her feet, intricate and ornate weavings painstakingly painted.

Little in the way of jewelry adorns her neck and ears, save for a simple, short strand of jet and amber beads, and matching earrings. Her strawberry-honey hair has been loosely pulled back from her face and partially piled high at the back of her head under a small beaded pill-box shaped hat, the remainder of the unruly glossy curls tumbling down her back in a cascade. Draped over her head, and craftily attached to the hat by hidden pins is a light, gossamer veil. A second, smaller veil covers her face from the nose down. Over the top edge of the veil peer a pair of almond-shaped toffee eyes, rimmed in dark kohl, her thin eyebrows delicately arched. A dusting of sparse freckles covers her short nose and high cheeks.

---------Constantina---------
       Constantina's face is fair in complexion and defined by a wide brow and high cheekbones slightly hollowed as if from an extended illness. Her striking indigo colored eyes are often hidden by thick lashes as she avoids the gaze of the world. Ebony locks frame her face, their wild curls pulled into a tight braid which falls to the small of her back, heightening the contrasting fairness of her skin to give her a look of otherworldliness.

        Her slim body is garbed in a simple gown of gauzy white muslin. Its empire style waist accentuates her full chest, the skirt skimming loosely across her hips to the floor. Its sleeves cling tightly to her upper arm, bound by light blue satin ribbon, then widen into a bell shape allowing Constantina to envelope her hands completely in their folds. 

---------Shaheena---------
        Unveiled, the remains of what was once a remarkable beauty are visible - but time, anger, and harsh living have stripped away the softness and translucence of youth, leaving only the angular, sculpted bone structure and smooth amber skin as a testimony to what once was. Her eyes have the fierce, dark opacity of a falcon's, in keeping with her name. Beneath a slightly beakish nose, ungenerous if unlined lips are pressed into a resolute line. Glossy dark hair, only lightly frosted with silver, is caught up and gathered into a knot at the nape of her neck.
        She's as slender and straight as a rapier's blade...and about as flexible. Her height is a bit less than that of the average woman, though she somehow manages to give the impression of being much taller than she actually is. Age has not yet blurred her figure, held off by discipline and training. Her stride is marred with the very slightest of limps.
        She wears her accustomed black - a closefitting top of silky knit, under a fitted, midthigh length coat of a fabric that has the subtle iridescence of the wings of a scarab - its cut is reminiscent of the 18th century. Loose, blousy pants of an airy weave cover her legs, sashed by a length of burgundy velvet from which hangs a curved kindjal in an intricately damascened ebony sheath. Ankle boots of soft black leather cover her feet.

--------------------------------------------------

Reception Court -- Bajazet Embassy (Kaitain)

        Hushed, yet bursting with activity at the same time, the reception court of the Bajazet household is a vast tile paved space, lined with majestic palms that shade it's perimeter. The refreshing babbling of water rings out across the walkways, it's source, a large fountain sitting squarely in the center of the court. Ornately embellished benches are placed around the fountain offering a quiet resting spot to the weary. Roses, lavender, and other fragrant flowers are planted in low copper edged flowerbeds, that hug the contours of the tiled pool. Tucked along the eastern side of the court is a small private stable, large openings in it's facade allowing glimpses of the magnificent steeds housed within. A broad avenue leads from the stables to around the southern walls of the forecourt, the occasional horse being trotted along it. At the south end of the court, the Embassy itself looms up over it's surroundings.

Players:
 Bedwyr                                             Constantina

Exits:
 Carved Gate <W> leads to Negara II Plaza -- Embassy District (Kaitain) 
 Tiled Avenue <T> leads to Riding Grounds -- Bajazet Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Wide Archway <E> leads to Stables -- Bajazet Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Bronze Door  <S> leads to The Adrianopol -- Bajazet Embassy (Kaitain)


Constantina is lounging on a bench near the fountain, her feet childishly tucked beneath her. One elbow rests on the cool marble surface of the bench while the other holds a small pad of paper. Between her moist lips is an antique fountain pen. With a vacant gaze she stares through the Embassy gates at the passing traffic.


The crunch of footsteps on the tiled path from the riding grounds sounds, and soon after the sound the source of the noise becomes visible. Around the bend, Felizia makes her way, her stroll more of a leisurely pace than one of intent.


Constantina turns her focus from the drone of traffic to the sound of footsteps on the path. She sets her paper down and quickly pulls the pen from her mouth. One leg extends itself from beneath her skirts as she leans forward to peer through the foliage in the direction from which the sound seems to be approaching. From between the flowers and shrubberry only a snatch of red material and the top of a hat can be seen. She settles back onto her perch waiting for the figure to come into view.

Shaheena walks in from The Adrianopol through the Bronze Door.
Shaheena has arrived.

Felizia hums quietly to herself, a song reminiscent of New Adrianopolis. The melody is soft, but quietly carries, though perhaps not enough to withstand the overbearing sounds of traffic. A moment later, she's out of the foliage, her steps turned towards the south end of the court -- and the entrance to the embassy. Perhaps preoccupied, she's not looked up to see that she's being watched.

Constantina abandons her props entirely and stands up as the woman's figure appears from the tangled foliage. With a puzzled look she says softly and hesitantly, "Felizia?", as though she only wishes to be half heard.

Shaheena doesn't sneak, of course...but her usual firm tread is modified by her weariness. She steps quietly out from the Embassy, to head towards the riding grounds. She does pause, though, on noting Constantina.

The humming stops, as Felizia sees Shaheena in front of her and startles with surprise at hearing her name behind her, instead of in front of her. She turns around almost entirely, seeking the source of the voice before spotting Constantina by the fountain, her head tilting to the side with curiosity. "Yes, Lady? You called?" she asks, altering her course to approach.

Entirely focused on Felizia, Constantina takes a few steps towards the woman with an unguarded look of scrutiny. She continues strolling, making a complete circle around her before stopping. "Then it is you. You look so different from the last time I saw you. You're actually clothed for one, but there's something else...", she says shaking her finger. "Ah! Didn't you used to wear a collar? Or was that someone else I'm thinking of?"

Shaheena offers a faint nod of reassurance of Felizia, before stepping out further.

Felizia laughs quietly, her chin remaining lifted, and her eyes meeting those of the woman circling her evenly. "Hmm, perhaps your memory is not as good as it used to be, Lady. I never wore a collar. Ever." She folds her hands in front of her, her fingers lacing together lightly. Despite the biting remark, her expression remains indifferent and untroubled by it.

Constantina nods her head. "Mmmm...I've forgotten so many things about Kaitain. Pardon me if I sound rude, but you are a slave, no?" Feeling another presence, she turns her head slightly in Shaheena's direction. "Ah, Lady al-Temiyat. You're one I could never forget. What a delight." She takes a few steps backwards so that both women are within her view and then promptly executes a respectful curtsey to the older woman.

Shaheena looks pleased at the compliment, acknowledging it with a faint nod. But she glides up to rest a gentle hand on Felizia's shoulder. "The Lady Al-Bahir has been granted both her freedom and a household of her own," she notes, softly. "Our lord has been msot kind to her, but it is really recognition of her merits. There are many who bring greater profit and honor to the House when free, rather than bound."

"It has been a year and a half since our most beloved Sultan freed me of being a slave, Lady," Felizia nods, her own note following on the feels of Shaheena's. "One misses much when hiding away, yes?"


Constantina smiles politely. "So it seems. I'm quite happy for you. Isn't it lovely gaining your freedom? I never thought I would say so, but I've become ever so glad that my husband did my the courtesy of dying. Now my dear girl, do promise me that you won't do anything foolish like run off and get married. With such a cute figure, I'm sure the men of Kaitain have already come knocking at the Embassy doors."

Shaheena chuckles wryly, as she lets her hand fall. "To be certain," she murmurs. "But I'm sure she will choose wisely, if she does choose to enter in to such a bond.'

Shaheena's answer being all that needs to be said, Felizia remains quiet, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth.

Constantina raises one eyebrow. "Of course I'm sure you'll be keeping a keen eye on her beaus Lady al-Temiyat."

Shaheena cocks her head a little, small smile broadening into the grin. "Of course. I would consider it my duty, since she has no mother here."

Constantina laughs softly. "My goodness what would happen if we all had mother like you, m'lady."

Shaheena chucklse at that. "You'd be married to better men," she returns, cheerfully.

<<Yes... married. Not drifting from House to House like one who is in heat.>> Felizia's thoughts, no matter how acidic, are kept silent and to herself, her small smile widening slightly. "Lady al-Temiyat is everything we could want in a mother," she murmurs quietly.

Constantina smiles. "A frightening thought." She curtseys once more, this time to both ladies. "Well, it certainly has been charming to see you again Lady al-Temiyat, Lady al-Bahir. I do hope I'll see you both more often." With that she walks past them both back towards the Embassy and dissappears into its interiors.

Constantina steps through the large looming doors into the Embassy.
Constantina has left.

Shaheena chuckles, though her expression is faintly sad. "The poor woman seems so discontented."

"She reminds me of the Sultana," Felizia mumbles, looking after Constantina with a distinctly soured expression. She mumbles something else, much quieter, but by the tone of it, for sure, it's foul.

Shaheena simply arches a brow. "ANd what was that, my dear?"

Felizia gestures in the direction of the departed lady with a lift of her chin. "I cannot think that Lord Marco's doing. She was rather cold the day she arrived. I remember that day rather well, actually."

Shaheena arches a asilvery brow. "Oh? It was that bad?" she deadpans.

"We both arrived the same day," Felizia replies quietly, finally turning her back to the embassy. "She told me to carry her luggage... all of it. Our beloved Sultan was there, he'd met us both in the Adrianopol. When he informed her that I was not a household slave, and not suited to such wishes and manual labor... well, I think that settled it for her right then and there in my book. Hmm... oh yes, and the incident with Master Sh'waya.." She pauses, shuddering at the apparent memory.

Shaheena sighs. "How sad. Such a wrong and Harkonne ideal of slavery."

Felizia nods slowly. "I have never heard our Sultan raise his voice to a woman, much less be angered.. She has driven him to that."

"That I had not heard," she replies, slowly, casting a thoughtful look at where Constantina's disappeared.

Felizia nods one more time. "Our Sultan was displeased with Master Sh'waya... he'd learned that the man had touched me, and had... made overtures that were inappropriate to me. When he confronted Master Sh'waya over the incident, the Lady al-Sarihm jumped in the middle of it, and tried to tell our Sultan he had no right, that Master Sh'waya was under her protection. That's when he yelled at her... told her to be silent or he would have her forcibly removed. I've never seen him angry any other time, before or after that."

The older woman blinks. "A most provoking thing to do," she replies, voice heavy with disapproval. "And certainly, tact does not seem to be one of her strong points."

Felizia shakes her head, then sighs. "No... apparently not. And she is surely one I will have to watch closely. She is trouble, Lady. Obviously. I am grateful for your support..."

Shaheena waves a hand. "It is nothing. I will not tolerate unecessary strife and feuding among the members of the House under my authority," she states, firmly.

There is a slight pause, as Felizia makes a careful study of the ground at her feet. Quietly, then, she asks, "And did you mean what you said... of standing in the role of my mother?"

Shaheena doesn't turn to face her, fully, but she does nod. "Of course."

"The Kislar Agha, Master Rukn-ad-Dawla, wishes to dine with me tomorrow night," Felizia adds, smiling shyly. "Should I have a chaperone..? Or is it safe, do you think?"

Shaheena considers this a moment. "He is under our sultan's command, and thus responsible to him for his behavior. I think a simple slave maiden might do. Though I am happy to come if you wish, or I can find another..."

Another expression crosses her face, the girl blurting her next query without much more thought. "Since he is Kislar Agha... does that mean... he... is a eunuch?"

Shaheena immediately swallows laughter. "On ancient earth, traditionally, they were. But I don't believe that procedure is still followed."

Felizia hmmms very quietly. It's certainly a rather personal question, and certainly not one you go charging up to someone to ask. Quite the predicament. Honey, are you.. intact?

Shaheena looks entirely bland about it, before suggesting, "You could always ask to be certain."

Felizia sighs quietly. "I think I'll just have to wonder about it for a while. Perhaps he will enlighten me himself soon."

Shaheena teases, softly, "Make sure he demonstrates that he is indeed ...unaltered?"

Felizia rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "And Muradin will kill him for sure. With his reaction to the Corrino... I thank Allah he does not know of Rashid. Or Lord Marco."

Shaheena sighs. "He is going to have to get over his posessiveness. You are no longer any property of his. Though I agree with him on Lord Marco, I will admit."

Felizia's lips purse slightly. "But.. Lord Marco is always so kind, and caring.."

Shaheena gives the younger woman a decidedly skeptical look...before breaking into a spate of laughter.

Felizia blinks in surprise, her eyes widening owlishly. "What..? Did I say something wrong..?"

Shaheena breaks off, eyeing her with equal bemusement. "You were serious, then?"

Felizia nods slowly, solemnly. "As limited as my contact has been with him... he's been entirely noble, and generous around me. True, he's... rather intense in his... goodwill... he's not once been anywhere near inappropriate. He's always treated me with the utmost of respect."

Shaheena nods once, conceding the point. "He certainly does have couth, in public. It seems he is less..tactful in his relationships. I do belive the Lady Al-Sarihm was once involved with him."

"Among others," Felizia quips lightly, then snaps her mouth shut.

Shaheena just quirks a brow, awaiting further explanation.

"She's... had others," Felizia says quietly, shaking her head. "Perhaps, though, he's changed?"

Shaheena says, "That I would be doubtful of. And I imagine she has..."

Felizia ohs quietly. "Well, I shall endeavor to steer clear of the Moritani. The men of that House do not seem very settled. Nor very bright all of the time."

Shaheena swallows another spate of laughter. "Oh?"

Felizia nods. "Lord Rinaldi. I had to meet with him, and Lord Marco, once... concerning votes in the Landsraad High Council elections... and seeing if they were favorable to our proces verbal position."

Shaheena ahs. "And what did they do, then?"

"Lord Rinaldi seemed... either very dim-witted, or, intentionally obtuse. I'm not sure which, really, but he couldn't grasp the simplest of concepts," Felizia chuckles quietly, shaking her head. "The meeting was almost painful."

Shaheena's lips pull back in a nearly feline grimace of distaste. "I see."

Felizia sighs quietly, nodding. "At any rate... perhaps they were just testing me. I have no way of knowing, really."

Shaheena looks faintly scornful, but nods, once. "Or perhaps they were just that dim. We shall see, I am sure."

"Very true, lady," Felizia nods, then turns to glance to the embassy. "If I might be excused...? I promised my son some playtime this afternoon, and he should perhaps be up from his nap by now."

There's a scarlet flicker, as she gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "Certainly."




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