Stars and Peacock
Log Info
- Title: Stars and Peacock
- Place: Theatre District, Alexandria
- Summary: Zerthos encounters the half-sil heartthrob Telamon, and of course has to make a bit of a play for him, though he calls it off upon realizing just how devoted Tel is to Cor'lana. The two part on friendly terms, with Tel even supplying Zero with a letter of introduction to Jovani for some quality tailoring work.
Theatre District, afternoon.
A fine Tariday sees blue skies and fluffy clouds, the sunlight gently flowing down onto the collectives of ice and snow that have been laid out by the gods in the Theatre District. However, being that it's the Theatre District, much of the snow has been shaped and sculpted into all manner of delightful shapes. Children occasionally stop their parents to point at what more or less pass as statues made from the slush of winter. Performers, too, are out in full force, as many sing carols to celebrate the new year that is coming.
One impromptu choir disperses, and their leader, a mul'niessa man wearing a boldly white-and-blue cloak on top of a tunic made from a shimmering silver fabric, claps his hands. "And to all, a new year indeed!" he announces. "Stop on by the TarRaCe later this eve for a stunning performance by myself, Zero, the pianist and songbird extraordinaire!"
Whether anyone plans on going to that show is anyone's guess, but the mul'niessa man makes no effort to persuade people to attend otherwise. Instead, he walks over to a cider stand only a few feet away. "Yes, a cup of that, please, darling. Nothing better for the singer's throat in the dead of cold," he asks of the vendor--a petite elven woman--who gives him a cup in exchange for a few pieces of copper.
It IS cold, and some at least make an effort to show they're not inured to it. Thankfully, the sky is clear and the sun is shining, even if the air still carries the bite of winter. A slim, elegant figure comes walking slow into the district, a dark wool tunic worn under a heavy frostrider longcoat, with a broad brimmed hat set on his head. His trousers are wool and linen, in a deep blue, tucked into black boots with silver buckles. It's only if he raises his head that one can see his easy smile, and the sparkling, star-shot eyes.
Telamon pauses by one of the snow-statues -- still quite solid -- and chuckles at the crafting of a robed figure, arms folded, as if to depict some powerful wizard. "Not bad," he murmurs with a grin. "Not bad at all." He moves on to drop a few coins into the box of a lute-player who is turning out a particularly well done rendition of an old elven song, before pausing at the nearby theater to check the posted playbills.
It's the hat that catches Zero's red-pink eyes first, followed by a glimpse of the face underneath the hat. There's a flash of intrigue in Zero's eyes, followed by a sly smirk. "Well /hello/," he murmurs to himself. "What else is he hiding under that hat?"
So of course, the mul'niessa bard strides over to Telamon and moves so casually over to the playbills. "Oh, Solaria the songstress is performing again?" he notes, gleaning a name off a playbill that he recognizes. "A beautiful talent. You ever see any of her shows, stranger?" It's clear he's addressing Telamon, as he's turned to the half-elf and smiles in that confident and winning manner.
"She does have a knack for music, both in singing and songwriting. Best of both worlds, one might say." Telamon isn't terribly discomfited by the stranger's approach, but it IS the theater district and often people will approach looking to promote their latest book, song, poem, and so forth.
Tel turns to face the mul'niessa, lifting his head so he can look him in the eye. "A few. The diplomatic mission from Ylvaliel has gone to several of her shows, and I've been able to secure tickets for myself and my wife." He tilts his head, regarding Zero with a fathomless, calm regard. "I didn't get your name, sirrah."
Zero is in a very good mood. A very, very good mood, until the moment that this handsome man before him--goodness, he's even more handsome up close!--says 'and my wife'. But there's only the tiniest falter, tiniest twitch in his mouth, which he passes off smoothly as a yawn that he waves off. "Mmm, so sorry, darling. The cider makes me mildly tired. I am called Zero, the pianist and songbird--or pianist and peacock. Either one suits me just fine. After all, I am known for my elaborate taste in fashion."
He gestures to his white-and-blue cloak and silvered tunic. "But I didn't come over to talk to you about myself. I simply wanted to know... Where /did/ you get that hat, darling?" It is an impressive hat, after all.
Telamon removes his hat, revealing the wealth of platinum-blond hair that catches the bright light, and he makes a deft bow. "Sadly, the winter's not done yet with us, so hot cider and mulled wine will have to be our comforts. But I apologize, Zero. I am called Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, adventurer, diplomat, and sorcerer."
His eyes glint merrily, as he regards Zero. "Ah now, a fellow clotheshorse! Well, that's something I can certainly empathize with. I like to joke that one of my few vices is trying out new garb, though I have my own preferences." On closer inspection, the hat is also leather and well-made, a durable style one might see worn by a well-to-do rancher. "Ah, 'twas a wedding gift from an old friend along with the coat. She thinks I'm too skinny to endure a hard winter." He grins at the memory. "There are worse things, though."
Zero's red-pink eyes flicker a little in recognition of the name. "Ahhh, no wonder why I thought I recognized you from afar," he says genially. "You know, Sir Lupecyll-Atlon, you are known for your ability to strut in whatever you happen to be wearing, as though the gods themselves put thread to needle and sewed the garments 'round your form."
He grins widely. "I am certainly a fan of that vice, and many more besides, but that is not here nor there, darling. Where /do/ you get your clothes from? Any particular tailors you are fond of? Since arriving here, I've yet to find anyone who makes the sort of quality garment that I am used to."
Telamon's face relaxes ever so slightly, but his lips remain curled up in that smile. "I assure you, everything you've heard is true. Even the lies. -Especially- the lies." He snorts. "But for the love of all that is holy, don't lay it on too thick. I am not so egotistical as to think I am -that- special."
"However, returning to the question... I have a couple of preferred tailors. One is Jovani Andarion, in the noble district. He's far less temperamental than most, and he's eagerly training apprentices in his attention to detail as well as artistic flair."
Tel's eyes grow sly and mischievious, and he continues, "The other is a lady of my acquaintance, a mul'niessa in fact. Perhaps you've heard of her: Aryia, called by some the Boulder-Splitter."
There's a true sort of delight in Zero's face as he listens to Telamon talk. The wit, the elegant way that the sorcerer speaks, the more-than-easy-on-the-eye looks... The man is the full package. A package that is married, but has that ever stopped a man like Zero before from trying?
And then there's the mention of Aryia, and there's but another twitch that Zero hides with the raising of his cup of cider. "Oh yes, I know Aryia," Zero replies. "We have spoken. A fearsome woman, for certain, but I did not realize she was skilled in that way as well." He takes a sip of his cider.
The cup is lowered, and Zero smiles again. "Jovani, however. That is a name I will have to keep close to my chest. Thank you for the recommendation. Now, does he tailor your wife's garments, too? I have heard she is a force of nature in her own way." It's an innocent question. But it's also a purposeful one--for Zero's purposes, that is.
Well, it IS Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, who was (until recently) a most eligible bachelor indeed. He shows no sign of seeing the twitch in Zero's eye or hand, but blandly continues, "Oh yes. Ironically, she was one of the first people I met when I came to Alexandria. Fearsome, but I find her eminently reasonable -- so long as you don't waste her time." He leans slightly closer to Zero, and whispers, "Fine wine and spirits are a good bribe with her."
That bit of lore imparted, Tel lets one eyebrow rise fractionally. "Ah yes, Jovani does work in all manner of attire. It's harder to get dear Lana interested, as she was never as much of a clotheshorse. Still, she's learning, and that's the important thing." He chuckles softly, remembering a past incident. "But yes, we have both found ourselves thrust forward into ... well, I won't say 'fame'. Rather, 'notability'."
Zero nods a little, studying Telamon's words and body language for the moment. "There are some things said about your wife, as a result of the 'notability', but I know that vicious rumor and mockery often obscure the truth," he says, "and... curiosity is one of my vices, you could say."
He brings his cloak a little closer around him--after all, he is a mortal man, and there is only so much one can do to ward away the cold, even with a cup of cider in hand. "So tell me in your words, Sir Lupecyll-Atlon: what manner of lovely creature is your wife? If you can bear to distill her down into words, that is." He smirks. "Perhaps I can spread your words of praise, should you have them."
Telamon manages to keep his expression, genial and warm and -calm-, under control. "Yes, I'm sure. Small people, envious of her; of her beauty, her talent, and her wisdom." He turns to the stall suddenly. "I believe I'll have a cup of what my friend here is drinking." Dropping in a silver coin, he forestalls any returned change with, "Happy Yule."
Once he has his drink, he lifts an eyebrow at Zero. "Ah, so you'd sing the praises of my wife when you've not even met her? And how much for this service, friend Zero?" His tone is playful and amused. "But since you've stepped into the water, my lovely wife Cor'lana is born of fey and magic, has endured loneliness and tragedy, and sailed those troubled waters to find a port here in Alexandria. 'Twas here that we met, and we found each other, and fell in love. Children of two worlds, seeking to build their own lives."
"Believe me, darling, I come from a place where people are just as vicious with their rumors," Zero says genially. "Many end up dead or punished because of them. Hence my curiosity to know the truth. Lies are pretty things in fiction and ugly things in reality, after all."
But the inspecting gaze turns into... a rather awestruck expression. "Dear me, darling, you /do/ love her," Zero remarks. "That's rather inspiring. You know, I am used to... loveless marriages. Partnerships formed out of seeking alliances between families and nothing more. I am used to the idea of genuine romantic love between people to be... well, a fairy tale, for lack of better words. But you live in one regardless. /That/ is the stuff of songs."
"Indeed. I've... heard some questions. The diplomatic arrangement between Alexandros and Mythwood caught us all off guard, and we had already 'set the date'... so there is a small contingent who think this was a -political- marriage." Telamon rolls his eyes. "Because, you know, we hadn't spent the last -year- courting."
Tel continues, "But still; I refuse to let misinformed or worse, malevolent people sour me. Lana and I are happy together, and there's nothing they can do about it. Yes, it seems impossible, a fairy tale told to children." His eyes sparkle. "But such tales can be much closer than you think, if you're willing to knock on the tree, approach the mushroom ring, or look at the stars."
"People are small-minded little animals from time to time, darling," Zero responds with a little smirk. "They will think whatever they want. So long as they never seek to do harm to you, then they are merely only word-spinners and cannot harm you nor your wife in any way that matters."
He drains the rest of his cup of cider. "Now, I won't keep you here much longer, Sir Lupecyll-Atlon, but I do look forward to speaking to Mister Jovani soon. I /do/ have a date coming up that I could really use a new outfit for."
Telamon nods, the faintest frown appearing on his face. "Perhaps. But I detest when someone tries to lay such aspersions on my wife. I'm used to it, and can laugh at it; she is... no, she's not weak. Not in the slightest. But she's less used to the unpleasant cuts of social drama." His lips quirk. "And she possesses enough talent to do something unpleasant if she's irked enough."
Tel hums. "A moment, sirrah, before you go." He reaches into his haversack, drawing forth a sheet of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. Swiftly, he pens a note on it in the sweeping sildanyari script, before invoking a cantrip to instantly dry the ink. Folding it into thirds, he proffers it to Zero. "Give this to Jovani, or whoever might be manning the counter. It'll prevent any misunderstandings." He gives a wry smile. "But make sure you have the coin to spend. Jovani commands his prices for a reason."
"A letter of introduction? Why darling, for that, you can have front row seats at my next show," Zero replies with a wink as he takes the letter. "I'll remember your kindness and generosity, for certain."
He puts it away into a pocket on his cloak, and he gives a flourished bow to Telamon. "Hopefully, next time we meet, I will be wearing a full wardrobe of Jovani's finest. I can't claim to be the foremost beauty in Alexandria, as that spot is yours, but I can try for number three."
He turns on his heel and adds with a smile, "As, from the way you speak of her, I am certain your wife is number two."