The Night Before the Wedding...
The Night Before the Wedding…
Location: Veronica's Private Studio at Pelle e Pizzo in Amber
Date: July 28th, 14 (OOC Year 2017)
Summary: Scene Summary
Characters: Iolion and Veronica
NPCs: Polly Petrillo and her granddaughter (Pansy Petrillo)

It isn't even sunset and Iolion's out on the streets of Amber like a regular person. It's not unheard-of, but it's definitely unusual. As he steps into the Pelle e Pizzo to escape the light rain drizzling outside, he takes the time to scrub mud off his boots with the brushes by the door for that purpose. Calling out to no one in particular, he says "Is Veronica in and receiving visitors?"

"Hello, sir," Polly says in greeting as Iolion enters Pelle e Pizzo. As she is helping a customer she calls out to her granddaughter and asks her to help the newly arrived nobleman.

Pansy approaches Iolion and says, "Good afternoon, sir." She then asks, "You're name is Iolion, isn't it sir?" After he indicates she is correct she says, "One moment then please," and she goes into the back room. After a few moments (long enough for her to explain who was there and to receive an answer) she returns and says, "You are invited to join her in back, Lord Iolion."

"It's just Iolion," he addresses Pansy, politely, as he heads into the back room. "Your courtesy is appreciated, but I'd prefer to avoid honorifics. Thank you." He gives her a nod and a smile, to make sure it's clear he's not offended, before vanishing past the door into the back room, whereupon the first thing he does is take in the room. "As far as women's boudoirs go, this one is novel. I approve, Veronica."

As Iolion passes Pansy she replies, quite appropriately for a fifteen year old commoner in Amber, by saying, "Yes, m'lord," and curtseying to him.

In the back studio, Veronica is sketching an outfit for a man and there are crumpled papers scattered around the stool she is sitting on. She laughs at her grand-uncle's greeting and stands up from her work. "I didn't work though the night did I?" she asks in concern as she approaches to give Iolion a hug. Behind her, hanging from pegs above the table, are two small glass flasks suspended from leather cords.

Editor's Note: The flasks are able to be seen as tokens on the MUSH with the following commands: "+token Vayel's FEK" and "+token Micah's FEM"

He returns the hug, of course, as he ought; and if he holds it just a bit too long, or traces his fingers lightly over her neck as he disengages, it's hard to tell if that's something specific to her or just the tactile tendency so common to theatrical types. He offers her a warm smile and a, "Veronica," as if just saying her name with affection was a complete greeting. Then, tucking her under his arm (easily, given their six-inch difference in heights), he reaches forth with the other arm to inspect the flasks hanging there. "These are striking. Are these solely of your own make, or is there a collaborator I ought also praise?"

Veronica smiles back at Iolion and leans into his side as he inspects the gifts. "Our cousin Faridah, who's place in the family I am unclear of, sang the glass into shape for me. I helped with the second placing the image into the glass so that it appears in the middle," she explains. She then asks, with an expectant tone showing that she has an expectation in this, "Do you get the imagry?"

"One dragon holds the flask; another is … almost its reflection within a flask. It will appear to be submerged. At a guess, I'd think it reflected Amber and Rebma. More superficially, the iridescence evokes the rainbow, which might be a sign of their union. And the dragons appear, somewhat, to be oriented towards each other; one on the outside looking in, one on the inside looking out, each fascinated by the other."

With that, he lets go of the flask and looks down to where she's beneath his arm. "How am I doing?"

Veronica grins. "Its not the imagery I was going for but not bad," she says before explaining further by saying, "Vayel, while he uses the last name Chantris which he earned the right to by marrying Talia, is by birth a Karanis. Their sigil is a flask. Micah, as a Mandrake, is represented by a dragon. So Vayel's flask is being embraced by Micah's house sigil while Micah's has his house sigil contained by…. or embraced… by Vayel's." SHe allows a pregnant pause to begin as she waits for a reaction to this.

A slow smile begins to cross his face: languidly, but growing over time until he's sporting a full-on crooked grin. It's not a flawless smile, which may be the surest sign it's genuine; his practiced smiles are much more seamless. "I was not aware of the heritages involved. Now, armed with that knowledge, yes, it's clear to me — and wholly appropriate. They'll love it, I'm sure of it. Your art is beautiful, Veronica. I shall have to give Faridah my compliments as well — but perhaps a less intimate set of them." With that, he leans down to press a kiss to her forehead.

Veronica says, "Thank you, Iolion," after the kiss, stepping back a half step not so fast to be a retreat so much as just a position change. "I'm glad I'd done some reading up on family history so I could include that twist in the gift," she explains before exclaiming, "Oh! And when fluid is poured into Micah's the image will still be clear and appear to be floating in the liquid as well," with a smile. She apparently wasn't sure if that was understood.

"Exactly as I expected. Else, where's the art in a flask that's only most beautiful when emptied? Besides, I rather like the Amber-and-Rebma imagery going on there." He gives the flasks another appreciative smile, and doesn't object in the least when Veronica steps away. He does look over towards her, though, smiling and giving a faint nod. "I'm looking forward to being your arm candy tomorrow. Sincerely. I want you to know that."

"Arm candy? You?" Veronica feigns shock and then laughs. "You are family also, Iolion," she reminds and says, "You have every right to attend the wedding on your own. But I'm glad my asking you is giving you some additional pleasure."

"Am I? Talia's informed me, through Prudence, that unless I bring something to the table I'm not to be allowed any access to the family records. My reception from Chantris has been … chill, I think, would be a fair description." He gives a brief shake of his head and waves it off, as if to end the thread of discussion. "It does me no good to linger on it. But yes, I'm grateful. I only wish the rest of the news I bear was as happy as the prospects of spending time with you tomorrow. I spoke with your great-grandmother about your wishes to affiliate with the Moon Court. She was not receptive to the idea, due to your prior commitment to the Princess Florimel."

Veronica sighs. "Of course. I hardly call it a commitment but I guess I do still wear her ring," she begins to ponder and, thinking out loud, she says, "Perhaps I could leverage the ring for something and have that clarify my position." She then declares, "I do not actually have ties to the Sun Court from my perspective."

"Unfortunately, the question is more about Mom's perspective than yours. I bring bearing the news she does not smile on any affiliation with the Moon Court at this time. If you wish to appeal to her, you have her Trump and may speak to her directly — but, as of now…"

He lets it trail off, then gives a brief what-can-I-do? gesture with his hands. "I regret the news I bear. And I regret being the one to bear it. I'm sorry, Veronica, on both counts."

"So I cannot attend your party tomorrow evening I guess?" she asks, frowning a bit as she had apparently been looking forward to it.

"Be it far from me to tell you what you can or cannot do, Veronica. Deirdre has said no; whether you respect or challenge that is your choice. Should you gatecrash, I will not be the one to remove you from it — but Deirdre will not have a shortage of people willing to enforce her will. I am not barring you from it, Veronica, but neither can I protect you from the consequences of attending it. I have no reputation of my own, no allegiances I can call upon, no assets to allow me to deny Deirdre. And for that matter, I think I'm not in her good graces anyway — she's been prone to snapping at me lately for no reason I can discern."

Veronica shakes her head, "I have no way of getting their on my own so I won't be attending." She then grins and says, "But as you said, I do have Dee's trump so I could… make my stance clear to her during the event."

"You didn't have any way to get back to Amber, either; yet here you are. I suggest that you do in fact have some way of traversing Shadow; I just don't know how — nor am I asking."

He looks around for a chair, then walks over towards the nearest one he finds and sits. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he continues. "What were you looking forward to? If it was time with me — I enjoy spending time with you. If it's the Souk — I'm happy to take you there any time. If it's the Moon Court — there we may have problems."

Veronica shakes her head. "Its okay," she says while meaning completely the opposite. "I barely know the woman and she barely knows me. We had a couple of meetings years ago and that was it." She shrugs and then, dismissing the subject, she says, "So, I had to put the work on the sword aside for the work on the flasks so I'll get to work on that after the wedding."

"I think she's being foolish." The declaration is perhaps all the more shocking for how calm it is: this isn't the product of angry passions, but of considered reflection. "You threw your lot in with Flora before you knew your heritage. To use that as a bar from allowing you to embrace your heritage is as foolish as Talia barring me from the stacks."

For a moment he places his hand over his face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, as he figures out how to walk this tightrope. "You and me, Veronica … there are very good reasons why we cannot be an item. And there are very good reasons why I wish they didn't exist. But leave all that aside for the moment, please, and hear me: you are dear to me, and it offends me to see you left twisting in the wind. Speak to Deirdre. Once you do, I'll see if she's receptive to discussing the issue with me. I want to see you cut from this rope you're hanging from."

The timing is not precise, but Roni doesn't correct Iolion. Instead she smiles and simply says, "Thank you," but it is clear she is not counting on this changing anything. "So," she asks desperately trying to changing the subject and making a passable attempt to sound like it is just professional curiosity, "How well did Taiji do with the tailoring?"

"I talked him out of a codpiece. He was quite taken by the notion: he had one already designed — looked like a lantern, black cotton over a motley assortment of brightly-colored silk brocade, truly eye-catching. I couldn't quite figure out if his enthusiasm was his way of screwing with my mind, or if such monstrosities really are making a comeback. He wouldn't shut up about it until I agreed to at least let him pin it onto my leggings and then he insisted I see how it looked 'in action', which involved learning an entirely new awkward way to walk to subtly thrust my pelvis with each step. It was not the oddest getup I've worn, but …" He gives a smile and a roll of his eyes. "I'm reasonably sure he was screwing with my head. Reasonably. I suspect you're glad I resisted his entreaties to spice up my garments for my date."

Veronica laughs at the image and nods. "Yes, I am," she says, "So are you as you would not have been on my arm wearing one." She sounds truly offended by the idea as she says this.

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