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1Derovai has been hard to find for the last couple of weeks -- a message sent to Talwyn (and to Orvyn, his patron) had a note about leaving the city for a few days, although he'd issued the State of the Compact bulletins in a timely fashion nonetheless. He's sprawled at the gazebo, black-clad as ever, his knife belted at the waist. He's got a cup of tea he's ignoring, and he's waiting for one arrival with whom he's set a meeting with the wonderfully charming message of -- 'Garden Chapel. Meet me in the next few hours. - DV' -- because politeness is overrated.
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4Dressed in a heavy orange robe with sable edging embroidered with the dark stag of Harthall, Orvyn steps into the open space from the Valardin keep proper. His blue eyes give a quick glance around before alighting upon a familiar face, "Ah, now Master Voss, I had wondered if you were hiding from us these days," he calls out to Derovai, headed in that direction rather swiftly. "I trust you have found your new position and fortunes and fame to your approval? Even if it has kept you away from the Keep, we did miss you at dinner the other evening," Orvyn notes, though his lips are pursed slightly afterwards, he is not annoyed, perhaps only mildly disappointed.
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6Talwyn has kept his business as requested. He has stayed to certain parts of the city more often than not, even foregoing a gala to be sure of his task. No one can fault the bard of House Valardin on maintaining a reasonable social calendar peppered by actual responsibilities. Duty finds him stepping out into a chapel redolent in floral fragrances someone worked painstakingly hard to create, and probably they might interest him on another night. His brilliantly designed coat and pants imply he went somewhere more interesting than not in the past hour. It's an ensemble that gives breath to the western dragons, for certain. He strides to the gazebo, not bothering with sword or word via Zephirine, his Lycene assistant. She can go stand elsewhere. "Good evening, Master Voss."
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8Derovai's brows draw together. The first entrant isn't someone he's expecting. He gazes over at Orvyn, smiling, no warmth in the expression. "You're not the one I told to meet here, Marquis Harthall, but my apologies for the absence. I don't do well at dinners with nobility. Well-known rumor. Might not be a true one, but there you are. Most of the rumors about me aren't true anyway." He gestures towards the teakettle with a gloved hand, a mute offer, just as Talwyn arrives, and his slouch becomes something a little straighter. "Ah, Your Highness. Just the man I was waiting to meet. Presumably you had a lady thrust a bouquet on your head after a song went wrong? You stink of the florist's."
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10"A shame then, since it was neither nobility, nor rumormongers, but business associates, planning for the future and various other things that would likely see those who attended with heavier pockets. Another time perhaps," Orvyn offers to Derovai with the slightest twinge of his lips as he notes the arrival of another, turning his head slightly so that he can look at Talwyn and his entourage. "Ah, your highness," he replies after Derovai's titular introduction. He gives the other man a slight bow of his head, but waits a moment so as not to interupt the conversation. Polite, almost, Orvyn moves closer to the table, but then turns once again, "I am Marquis Orvyn Harthall, it is a pleasure to meet you, regardless of your scents," he notes with a small smirk.
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12"I stepped outside, and ended up on a path through a dozen rose bushes," Talwyn replies. His habitual crispness doesn't shake. Wicked rose bushes and the flowers planted in proximity to the keep cannot be trusted. His hand waves slightly to dismiss the care, and he keeps his mouth firmly shut for a moment. A nod allows for a greeting to Orvyn, adding, "Good evening, Marquis Harthall. Talwyn Valardin," he doesn't mince words upon that front. The natural Lycene cologne he prefers, subtle and cool, is much more woodsy than that. And hard to notice, it's not that strong. He takes a seat at the table anyways, settling in.
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14Derovai moves to pour the tea, passing a cup first towards Talwyn, and then another to Orvyn. "Another time, Marquis. But you're welcome to join us for tea, won't you? Prince Talwyn is a fine musician. He might even play a song." He adds something more quietly to the table, a murmured question, before he beckons Orvyn to a seat. "Marquis Harthall is a member of the fealty, Your Highness, and my patron," he explains at least half-unnecessarily.
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16At the a magnificent dragon motif gazebo, you say, "So did you hear anything in your exploits? I didn't ask you to keep an ear to the ground without reason."
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18"Indeed, tea does sound lovely," Orvyn replies with the ever present slight smile, "Ah, well then a musician as well, that is great news, I am sure that the House is rather proud. It is not often that the Oathlands provides talented musicians, though I imagine that you came looking for some other business, by the surety in your step, that and I doubt that Master Voss has the pull yet to get you to come play for him... and if he does..." Orvyn looks to Derovai with a meaningful glance. Though he does chuckle and join them at the table, settling himself, his robe spread to reveal the dark leathers that cover his form, apparently protection is often a necessity.
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20The poised hook of a smile gives a certain warmth to Talwyn for a few moments. The Lycene blood in him is unmistakeable, melded to the patrician features of his name. "I expect to be direly shocked if Master Voss asks me to play. Any evidence to the contrary suggests we call the guards." He conducts himself with manners raised to a razor sharp point, so detailed he could probably cut someone with the precision of how he takes the teacup to himself steadily. A soft few words to the side, and he neither doctors the drink with cream or breaks into song. "Excellent to meet you, however. What brings you out?"
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22At the a magnificent dragon motif gazebo, Talwyn lowers his voice by a notch, angled so. "The Redrain Ward is under observation. Taverns and inns proved most fruitful. You migth like to hear that a pair of gentlemen were complaining it's night and day for them. They can find her, the guards make that easy. But they cannot get to her. Someone -- 'he' -- will be mad." He pauses. "That 'he' causes them considerable consternation."
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24Derovai is distracted for a moment or two by something Talwyn says to the side. He scoffs a little at the prince's words, shaking his head, but it's not dismissive. "Good," he notes a little bemusedly after a quiet addition to Talwyn, before he looks back up at Orvyn. "Oh, Marquis, you very much underestimate me, I'm afraid. Again. We talked about this, didn't we?" But his grin is broad, and his words are /almost/ not stinging -- for Derovai, at least. Such as it is. "I did buy His Highness a lute many months ago from Mistress Petal Penrose." And the murmured conversation seems to be over, for he nods Orvyn to a seat just as the other man settles.
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26At the a magnificent dragon motif gazebo, you say, "Send me a message with descriptions. Vague ones -- so nobody can track the message -- but descriptions nonetheless."
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28Orvyn tilts his head to Talwn, "I was in the process of discussing some matters with the Highlord, your highness, and will likely need to speak with other Ministers before the week is through, I had been wandering to see if I could locate a few before I headed back home, alas, I stumbled upon my protege and since I had not heard from him in some while, it was good that I check in with him." Orvyn chuckles at Derovais words and if they were meant to sting, Orvyn responds as though it were such a jest. Rich baritone laughing, he looks to the nodded seat and then begins to move towards it, before a messenger arrives and leaves him with something to quickly persuse over, forcing him to leave the two to their whispered conversation for a while as he quickly notes a reply. "There we are, and yes the Mistress Penrose does avail herself of many crafts, that is for certain," he notes, distracted by the message.
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30"Some men can be difficult to track down. It would seem Master Voss is much in demand." Talwyn's observations do not account as the most earth-shattering but their dry humor mingles with Orvyn's. He casts a slow look around the chapel, taking in the sharp lines and the unwitting curves. The teacup is dwarfed in some respects by the length of his hands and breadth of his palms. Slaking his thirst on the tea in sparing sips, he uses that to conceal a chuckle. "Mistress Penrose has a surprising degree of aptitude. I saw one of those cloaks -- remarkable, and fortunate two stayed home with the Greenmarches."
31A player you are watching, Jasher, has connected.
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33"Gods, Your Highness, that may be the first time anyone's ever said that about me. May it be the last," Derovai remarks to the prince, before turning his attention on Orvyn. He grins sharply at the laughter, not taking offense, and then raises his brows at the Harthall's distraction. "Personal business? Did someone spill coffee on your maps?"
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35At the a magnificent dragon motif gazebo, Talwyn nods slightly. "I will."
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37Orvyn shrugs slightly, but nods as they keep the conversation light. His smirk does not leave his lips as Derovai asks his question, "Actually that is rather apt, though no, I am afraid not, but consider if you will the idea that were one to spill a small amount of coffee upon a map, would it alter that which exists in reality? And what if through that small stain of coffee, one could see an entirely alternate reality through the haze? Now that would be a strange, yet exciting prospect. Of course that would just be preposterous, would it not? Unless someone showed you how it was done, no?" A slight shrug before Orvyn collects his cup, and stares at the liquid within.
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39"I beg to know how you endure this. It must be for the black humour when the Highlord has become too jovial," Talwyn says in an aside to Orvyn, proof that there isn't an unbreakable stick in the genetics of everyone bearing the Valardin name. The somber, severe lines of his expression change considerably when animated by that crackle of unshed laughter, sharp as a blade. "Coffee has many properties. Transforming paper is one of them. A certain level of translucency might show you a different world or a different take on the displayed lands. It might make for a cunning hidden map, in fact. Line two of them and different features appear only when the right level of transparency is attained."
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41"And you've found the alternate reality? Don't tell me: in this other land, I'm really a prince, and a good person who would stop at nothing to do what's right." Derovai's smile curls a little, and he adds, "What are you in this alternate reality, Marquis?" He looks over towards Talwyn, adding, "It's worse, Your Highness. He pays me for my company. The more fool him, hm?" He beckons at Orvyn with his teacup, although he's content to let the talk of mysterious and secret maps continue unchecked, taking a sip of his own tea.
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43You have no messengers waiting to be received.
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46"Sadly Master Voss, you do not exist in this other land. It could not handle you and so it did not bother to create you," Orvyn replies with a slight smirk, but then he shakes his head, sipping his tea for a moment, "Transparency is such a great way to explain it, but yes, a thinness between worlds, an opening that with the right application, one can pass from one to the other, but alas, it shall have to wait, there are other more pressing matters to deal with before one makes for such an adventure," the Marquis replies, ignoring the comment about himself. A glance to Talwyn, "I think you have it right, your highness, that would be a very crafty way to hide something in plain sight."
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48Talwyn puts the tea down. "Transparency or a thinness as a story to pass through things? That sounds rather troubling. Think of the manner of mayhem that could be had. Ladies would never be safe from one another and the Champions busy settling their duels if they were called to constantly try to make up for accusations of what might be seen. Their rivals active that way, dreadful stuff." He smirks, though the response is a very cool reply in terms of length. It goes undone. "I speculate merely on how it might be done. Far be it from me to tell you how you go about hiding stories within stories or maps or any such thing. You'll have to consult me for hidden musical messages. That's the fare of my sort."
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50Derovai sets his tea down and puts a gloved hand on his heart. "You wound me, Marquis. Let it be known, the man thought incapable of having a heart was wounded by a man with 'Hart' in his very name. Absent a letter, of course." And he listens, scratching his jaw. "What notes have you received, your Highness?" he wonders about musical messages, adding, "So to speak."
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52Orvyn arches a brow at Deroavi and then chuckles, "Well now, I suppose there is that, nothing wrong with poking at a man's ego every once in a while. That said, more will likely be revealed in time. I have a feeling that in the next few weeks, opportunities for research will become available and there will be a need for those with a critical eye to search some old and new theories," Orvyn begins, but turns to receive another messenger, "One would think that simply placing a time for a meeting would be easier than this..." he tells the others, before penning off a quick message and then back to the matter at hand, listening to what Derovai asks Talwyn, and seeming content to see what's answered. "Indeed, your highness, hiding stories is one thing, but I've heard of so much more in the way of music..." he offers.
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54"Every song is a tale, Master Voss. Whether it's a stately movement to honour a Highlord's victory or a spritely pavane, they tell a story. You could hardly make the music otherwise. Hammering out notes," Talwyn explains, "without a purpose is rather like building something without having an outline of some kind. Or any other act of making an object, really. It would be rather amusing to see the poor outcome for the wasted time." He doesn't pause for long there, raising his head somewhat to the business of egos and trouble.
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56Derovai half stares at Talwyn, shaking his head bemusedly. "I don't give a Gods' damn about art," he replies flatly to the prince. But he does sile sharply at Orvyn. "Fair enough. I'm to be seconded for the Society of Explorers for a few days, but I will be back and should be able to lend, though not myself, a capable assistant -- as well as teaching that woman you asked me to teach whatever you'd like me to teach her. Within reason, of course."
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59Orvyn gives the briefest of smiles at the mention of training and he nods his head to Derovai in return, "Indeed, we shall see what sort of plans the future holds in such matters," Orvyn begins, then turns back to the prince, "Indeed, I agree, everything must have purpose. And if one cannot see the purpose in something, it is merely because it is someone else's purpose that they do not. I have often found such hidden meanings in songs played for those whom the singer may not have a welcome affinity with. But that is only one small, if crude measure of what the greater options one has to use in their repetoire, no?"
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61"And that's why art cares for you so." Derovai's statement wrenches a faint smirk out of Talwyn. He pushes his chair back, clearly intending to stand. "Hidden meanings can be enjoyable in music, but often they exist to frame the notes and the purposes available to those already present. I won't lie, I find it enjoyable to see how such themes twist on themselves. But, Marquis, Master Voss, I should be returning to my rooms. Given the impending hour and my obligations to the Bardic College, I need to be prepared for tomorrow."
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63Derovai shrugs carelessly at Talwyn. He blinks, moving to stand as Talwyn rises, out of habit more than any real care for propriety, before he looks back towards the Marquis. "Well, it seems I've acquainted two people I know. I think that should count as a success at being a convivial fellow. Do feel free to mention how very talented I am at forging the bonds of friendship, particularly if people sigh in exasperation at the mention of my name." He grins broadly, his gaze darting between the two. To Talwyn, he adds pointedly, weightily, "We'll be in touch."
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65"Indeed, perhaps there's more to be read and heard in the coming future. For now, I shall leave the Prince to his duties, a pleasure to meet you, your Highness, and as for Master Voss, well I am sure that he will turn up somewhere, sometime soon. He does tend to come around when it is time to collect..." he leaves off, with a small smirk, moving to rise himself, tea still untouched as he bows to the PRince, then gives a nod to Voss and he too is away.