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*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
Time of day: Morning
Date on Aether: Saturday, April 2, 3906.
Year on Earth: 1506 A.D.
Phase of the Moon: Waning Gibbous
Season: Spring
Weather: Breeze
Temperature: Comfortable
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Baths - Palladium - Haven
The gentle patter of water from the fountain in the center of this large
chamber is both soothing and welcoming. The Empyreans are noted for their
bath houses, and their relaxed modesty implies that both genders may be
found either unclad or wearing only the scantiest of garments as they enjoy
the steam rising from the heated pool, or dip into the refreshing waters of
the cooler ones.
Only graceful columns mark the boundary between the interior and exterior
of this chamber, yet the gardens beyond allow some privacy. Furthermore,
flowers and other plants flourish even inside the room; carefully tended
year-round so that the illusion of a lush, verdant paradise is maintained.
Attendants move discreetly among the bathers, bearing towels and perfumed
oils with which to scent the water. Aside from the three pools, there are
chaise lounges and settees upon which one may rest (see 'places').
Contents:
Iris, bathing in the oval pool.
Obvious Exits:
Garden
Somewhere between midnight and the dawn hours, the bath usually clears out. In
that somewhere-time, the servants finally find their own beds and the remaining
few Empyreans drift out and the place is still and quiet and /then/ Iris will
come and bathe. Still, though the fewest of persons might traipse through, and
of them even fewer would notice the woman who is nearly totally submerged in the
rear-far, heated pools, so if Iris is quiet, Iris is overlooked. Hence, when you
walk in, you may see the slightest of movements - a head turning toward you - from
the rear pool. Then nothing else.
Another seems to seek out the more vacant moments of the bath, though for certain
different reasons. No servant accompanies him, no one in tow, as the silent,
sullen young man casts his eyes about the Baths as if checking.... then enters a
little more. He assumes too much and misses the young woman in the pool in the far
back as he staps a bit off to the sides in order to undress...
Julius
A hungry figure catches your eyes, ropy and full of tensile strength and
a distinct... paranoia.
He's average for an Empyrean, about 5'8"-10", and thin as a reed, more apt
to bend in a windstorm than break. His features are obsured by scars and
long unhealed injuries; this man has been to Hades and back and taken a
lot of damage along the way. What catches your eyes first is the pinched
skin that traveles over his right shoulder to his breatbone, marking his
pale skin with a vicious burn. More burn marks lash his thighs and ankles;
ill-healed lashwounds surround a knobby and blue-black nub on his right
shoulder-blade. His left calf is covered in deep bite marks pinkening the
flesh and leaving unordinary bumps on the skin. His hands are rough and
care-worn and a jagged scar marrs his right forearm. His shoulders and
arms, though thin bear the strength only gained form hard labours; squared
and not too broad, keeping a slim profile.
Off of his left shoulder, streaching high to the heavens, is a thick
collection of slim feathers forming the structure of a majestic blindingly
white wing. Each feather is soft and long, spreading down from it's apex
in a wash of down, spreading out to long tapering feathers, strong and
shaped as the fingers of a god. It's span must be incredible and a beauty
to behold in flight. There is no match to it upon his back.
His face is long and as lean as the rest of him, with strong cheekbones
and, if slim, jawline. His long lanky hair hangs in thin silver-spun wisps
against his pale face, highlighed in a clear white and grey. Above a long
and elegant nose is faceted two bright orbs, a exact piercing blue. Shadowed
by his browline or any passing shadow, his wide eyes remain a piercing and
steeled focus on his face. The chill of the wind settles there, smoldering
in his eyes which bear a hint of shame at his broken body.
Ah. There's someone heeeeeere. The few torches that still dance allow Iris to
see the figure, and the odd lack of symmetry in the figure, and her brows pull
down, even as she sinks further into the water. Just don't...Don't go for the
heated pool in the back. Not the heated pool. Just anything but the heated
pool... (Whatever you do, Brier Fox, jus' /don'/ toss me in that Brair Patch!).
Iris swallows, but she can't help but stare. To try to see better, what horrors
have been done to you. Morbid curiosity.
Julius takes his time, streaching out arms, legs and side in turn. His ropy
shoulder hunch for a moment as he take the time to streach out that one white
wing... majestically, it flairs out behind him, Julius' face wincing a bit as
it reaches it's full span and then some. Enjoying being free of the restraining
(not to mention hot) cloak, this excersise takes a little while before Julius is
content to fold up the pure feathers and rub the back of his neck idly. Hrm.
Which pool goes first again? That's right, the warm one. He looks about again,
just in case, and misses again the now scrunched figure in the warm pool...
Iris shuts her eyes for a moment, as if that will somehow block out the reality
of your actually coming over to /her/ pool and getting in it. You'll really not
see her once you get near; the torches have been expertly doused. But you'll know
Iris is there the moment you get in. She has /such/ huge wings that they take up
most of the space in the pool, though they're shoved down and soaking out the
afternoon's mud.
Julius's thoughts do note the lack of light, but simply passes it off as a fluke
and continues silently over. The wing does a few more streaches, leaning this
way and that, but other than the ruffle of feathers the man is silent in his
approach. Thoughts elsewhere he nearly does get into the heated pool... before
catching sight of shaded feathers. His eyes widen... then widen some more as he
notes there's someone else he he didn't notice! And female! He starts backwards,
escaping falling into the pool at his surprise and stammers, "E-excuse me, Domina!
I-... I d-d-didn't think..." His already light skin pales a bit more as you
succeed in nearly scaring the life out of him. That one wing flairs out
protectively about him, doing a terrible job in hiding his lack of clothing...
IRIS
A meld of unremarkable characteristics gather to create a rather plain -
at best 'cute' - visage and form of this female Empyrean, Iris. She's a
shortish 4'10, hopelessly slender with her shoulders carrying -just- enough
musculature that she can, indeed, fly with those vastly hugely oversized
strawberry-tipped wings that match this young woman's short-cropped
strawberry-blond hair. She's got olive-green eyes, over-wide, and freckles
create a bridge across her nose, from the islands of freckles on her cheeks.
Thinnish lips warm a smile, or tighten to show annoyance, becoming a single
straight line in the woman's sharp-featured visage. Iris' hands are slim,
long-fingered, her legs are lean and likewise long. She wears 'boyish' clothes,
pragmatic to outdoor activities but colored in more feminine tones.
OOC: Iris is 26+ years.
When you notice her, the water around Iris erupts as her wings, those barometers
of her mood, flare out from the water. Huge, huge huge wings, with water sluicing
off of them and dripping and making a general roar. Your words are lost in it,
and likely she's babbling behind her wings, too. Female, yes, but you'd not know
from trying to see, because *Iris* is expert at hiding it. When the water's fall
drains down to a few inconsistant drips, then Iris might be heard: "--Hope you
don't think I was hiding in there, wasn't lurking, Dominus, and I'm done so I'll
get out and you're welcome to it--I'm terribly, terribly sorry--Please, don't
think I was hiding or lurking or..." Iris just cuts herself off now, as her words
echo back to her in the new silence of the baths. One wing lowers /just/ slightly,
so you can see the very top of her wet head, huge eyes peering at your face,
earnestly.
Shame... it's in the hunch of his shoulders, worried cast aside glance and spread
of the feathers of his wing. Long silver spun hair falls over one side, leading
you to a scar that tears across his abdomen in a rather nasty way, the wound old.
Eyes still on the ground a few feet away (A vase! What a lovely vase! I think I'll
stare at it...), Julius lifts the hair back behind him absent-mindedly. "I-it's
no trouble, I can go, I'm sorry..." Domina? Dominus? He just ends it there and,
keeping his eyes on that vase begins to move towards it...
But no, she's already getting out. Clambering out. And in her hurry, Iris forgets
that she badly hurt her foot today and she tries to put her full (and almost
inconsequential weight, normally, but now laden down wet wings) weight upon it. A
yelp immediately follows, that tailed by a few words that an upstanding lady
shouldn't know, much less speak, and Iris flops back down in the pool. "I'll get
out in a moment, Dominus." Iris' voice is now strained. "If you would but wait."
Julius winces at the yelp and turns around to see you struggle to escape the pool.
"No, i-it's fine... Domina," he coughs lightly; his voice is soft and rather
hoarse, as if some injury had been suffered to his throat. "Please..." he ponders
offering his assistance (after all, it would be polite) but keeps his place to see
if you'll need it. Bath etiquette escapes him.
Apparently, Iris too. She's never here in the day, never here with anyone else
save one, and right now that One is rather irate with Iris, so Iris is here alone.
"No no no, Dominus. I've been in here going on an hour. Really. I need to leave
anyway. Please..." Iris tries to get out of the bath, take II. Her arms are hardly
enough to haul her out, and she seems to be fine on one leg, as long as she
doesn't depend on the other to lift her. The woman feels acutely silly, a cut foot
paining her when you've evidently experienced more horror in probably a few
moments, than Iris will her entire life.
Well, it can't hurt to ask. With another small cough, Julius whispers, "Do you..
need help?" He doesn't want to watch you flounder about or struggle on his behalf.
And besides, it's a rather odd position to be the one being apologised to....
You're nude and Iris wears nothing but a shirt which clings all too well to her
body, revealing that though she's female, she would be laughed out of any
Empyrean beauty contest of /almost/ any age. "I'm fine. Please, Dominus. Go ahead
and get in. Do you need soap? I'd be happy to fetch it for you. I know where the
servants hide it, when they're gone." There. Iris is free from the pool, her wings
(huge huge wings) quivering, trembling and then finally falling in a slow collapse
to the pavement. She's like a butterfly whose wings have adhered to fly-paper,
mired by the weight in her feathers. Iris looks up at you, once more earnest.
And she tries to focus /only/ on your face. Good thing you can't see her blush.
Julius still isn't looking, his bright blue eyes on that vase in the corner. A
long pale arms reaches out to hand you the towel he had draped over his arm before
venturing towards the pool, "No, I'll be ... fine..." he says in a scratchy voice.
On one side of his neck is a rather unusual scar that falls in line with the long
burnt gash, still a blistered brown after time has passed, the end of which
disappears into the desparate muddle of rather elegant feathers of his one wing.
Iris takes the towel, throat suddenly tight with gratitude. Whoever you are,
you're thoughtful. She drapes the thing around her. Once this is done, she seeks
to shove herself back a bit from the pool, to give you that much more room. "Thank
you, Dominus." Iris should leave now, doesn't seem willing to. Nor does she look
at you, but rather eyes her own feet. They must be some catalyst for thought.
Julius is rather used to recieving a wide berth, moving in smooth steps to cross
by you, eyes shifted from the vase to another point, letting you know he isn't
trying to be aloof, just respectful. "Certainly Domina, please... a-again forgive
me for my intrusion..." he slowly slips into the pool, his wing maneourvring to
shift on his back in a rather odd fashion, towards the knobby stub upon his back
on the right, then to the left and back.
Iris is confused by your bearing, and she realizes, with a start, that you must
be one of the few in the Pallidium who is /not/ noble. And /that/ would explain
why you are in the baths at this time. And this knowledge gives her some
confidence to ask the question which would likely be considered highly rude, if
asked of a noble: "Are you not noble?" Relief -- at the anticipated answer --
flood Iris' voice in that question.
Julius blinks and starts to look towards you when modesty kicks in and he dodges
your visage off to one side. "Excuse me, Domina, I don't think I heard you," he
says softly, hoping to understand that question a bit better.
Iris takes another two breaths, letting her shoulders relax fully. You're _not_
noble. But Iris won't be rude and not repeat the question, not explain it. "I
had only asked, Dominus, if you were noble or not. I had thought you might be,
because it seems that everyone here is. I had not considered that you came in so
late to use the baths, and acted like...Like a servant..." Iris did hesitate
before she spoke those words. No. She's /sure/ you're not noble. "Or at least not
acted like a noble, so I thought maybe you're not noble." Not that Iris claims
any cameraderie with any bunch, noble or not.
Julius ohs. "Oh." His head turns back around as he debates on how to answer that.
Is he? Things seem to be in proper accord between he and this girl that he does
ponder leaving it at that and letting her strike her own conculsions. But. But,
no matter how he feels, he is a Jovian, and how many times has his cousin gotten
on his case for not showing and acting properly? His eyes shift and he's not even
facing you, looking to one side and a bit sheepishly despite himself. "I... am a
member of House Jove. But, in your defence, I rarely feel worthy of my own
heritage and no offence is taken in the least...." He answers this question often
and is still never good at his reply.
First, Iris' eyes widen. Then she remembers to breathe again, and does so, but
rather hurriedly. "Oh by Zeus, I'm sorry!" In everyone's life, one should have
three instances in which they can say 'Now God', and the earth will open up and
swallow them. This would be one of Iris' instances. She swallows. Swallows again.
Swallows a third time. "I'm sorry." That last is spoken even quieter, and Iris'
volumous wings drag across the floor as the woman seeks to make her escape, seeks
at the very least to rise to her feet. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Anguish twists her
voice, and she stares at you fully now. "I'm sorry."
Oh dear. And this, tends to be the reaction. Turning to the bath and keeping a
low profile, he starts to feel rather guilty. After all, should someone be angry
with him for such a mockery to his name? Shouldn't someone rail against him for
once and call him 'Liar'? With a wan sigh he shakes his head, sending wet silver
locks to and fro. It never helps but he is compelled to say it again, perhaps with
more conviction he would give others when they make the same mistake. "No, please
Domina. I take no insult and thank you for the chance to amend my actions. I
rarely act as I should and take no offence in you pointing that out to me. Thank
you."
Well, if this isn't a case of the pot and the kettle. Iris swallows a few more
times, trying to work the lump of terror or humiliation or something out of her
throat, even as she scrabbles to her feet. Those huge wings are half-pulled up,
like some collapsing tent, and she backs a few steps away from the pool. "I'm
sorry." Iris repeats, whispers. "I'm so sorry. About--About mistaking --About--
I'm sorry. And sorry for whatever happened to you that--Oh, I'm sorry." Iris
looks down now, struggles to draw her wings into that proud arch that most
Empryeans wear over their head. She cannot, and must reach back with both hands
to support those wings. "I will leave you to your peace now, Dominus Jove. I am
sorry." Iris, towel still hanging over her, beats for the exit, though the limp
slows her extraordinarily.
Julius's head hangs. Looking at his hands in the heated water, he listens to you
apologise, rather sorry himself his assurances were met so poorly. Your apology
for the his scarred appearance does strike him strange, the first occurance of
someone mentioning the fact he is misshapen or broken catching his attention.
What an odd thing to say. His head tips up to look at you scramble away, still
an expression of wan aplogy on his feature, but incredibly curious as to why you
would say that. He nearly dares asking, right then and there, but only manages
"Domina, if I may ask you a question?" before catching himself and schooling his
mouth shut. This is exactly the type of behavior one assumes of a slave, he thinks,
but doesn't turn away, fully expecting you to run from him as so many other have
done before. Angst. Angst.
She might, but Iris, in her haste, forgot her clothes. And the person with whom
she happens to be feuding right now, is probably still positioned between Iris
and any /more/ clothes. And gods only know who else Iris might run into, out
there if she keeps on dressed in a very wet shirt and a damp towel and nothing
else. Iris stops. Turns and stares at you, then turns further to begin a slow
limp back. "Of course, Dominus." The words are schooled into a courtly version
of polite.
Julius blinks and looks at you again, a quick glance to your face so he can
remember someone brave enough to speak with him then back to the pool. Now,
the question itself seems a bit insulting, a deep breath trying to clear it
from him so he doesn't have to ask. Oh, if one could be so lucky. A quiet
moment passes as he starts in prologue to his query, "Uhm, p-please again,
there really is no need to apologise for your question, as I h-hope there is
no need for mine..." a small clearing of his throat and he speaks again. "I
simply was curious as to why... you would ... would apologise for my...state."
he says simply, a faded blush appearing on his cheeks, feeling rather silly and
foolish.
Iris stands by the pool now, staring resolutely by her feet. The dark hides your
blush, but not your hesitancy. And Iris is quiet for a moment, before she answers.
"Whatever trials you have seen, Dominus, would test the mettle of the finest of
warriors, bravest of men. And you yet live and carry on. For that...I would say
that you have a strength within you. And it is a shame that whoever has done this
to you has stolen from you...Your wing. And has branded you with marks of
violence, that you will wear for the rest of your life, and which will...Will...
It has stolen from you, a presentation of yourself. It is that...Your scars,
that others will see first, and will react to. And for this, I am sorry, Dominus."
The last is whispered. Iris swallows again and steps back, bringing her to where
her clothes are stashed -- in the branch of one of the indoor trees.
What was seen at first a rather foolish question asked by the tickling of
curiosity becomes a rather remarkable thing that touches Julius deeply. So deeply
he is silent as you walk away, caught in the frighteningly accurate detail of
what was said. But what do you say to someone when courageous enough to speak is
so insightful they strike you to the core with nothing more than the truth, so
rarely spoken in the days of courtesy and ettiqutte. A chill runs up his spine
in the warm bath as he lets what was spoken sink in. His eyes close, head
dropping a bit as one would in prayer and he says the only thing he can think of.
"Thank you." The words are heartfelt and honest, bringing with them a lot more
appreciation than the two words speak of.
Iris's fingers curl into the rough linen of the clothes she will wear, and she
looks back at you, unsure of your response, or what hers should be. Iris draws
in a ragged breath and turns to limp back out again. "Fare thee well." Iris
finally manages past that terrible lump in her throat. She'll find somewhere
outside, to change, and she'll be sodden when she gets back to House Ares. But
at least she'll have given the mutiliated Jovian some of the peace he'd sought
before he'd discovered her.
Iris disappears beyond the row of columns and enters the Palladium's garden.
Iris has left.
... and Julius is left to his own thoughts once more...
*fin*
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