dear_mun | Canon is The Three Musketeers (2011 Adaptation), Muse is Fickle

And yet perhaps you can spare a moment to be... admired in person.

[ A kiss on the hand. Oh Milday, you are without a doubt the second most beautiful person in the room. ♥ ]

Mmh.

[Sweet of you to say, Lord Buckingham. Coming from you, that's half a compliment.]

You are too kind, My Lord. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence today?

A simple wish to indulge in your company, I... so rarely find opportunity for it these days.

[ And that is an understatement. ]

Pity.

[She traces the embroidery on his doublet.]

Not faring too well in that mansion of yours?

[ For the briefest moment he is a little surprised, but the sentiment doesn't last. ]

I suppose you would know of it...

[ An excellent moment then to let his fingers wander down her neck and to her collarbone. ]

Faring as well as can be in a place that seems rather eager to see us all die of boredom.

[ Or other assorted causes. ]

Surely it can't be that bad.

[She smiles knowingly, loosening the tie at the throat of his doublet just so.]

Your Lordship has always been markedly skilled at creating his own entertainment. Or is it simply the company you find lacking?

[ And just so his hand keeps wandering, slowly down to her shoulder. ]

Even the creation of entertainment requires materials and... the company [ A deep sigh for emphasis. ] in this land of wonders is... more than reluctant to provide.

[ But here his lips widen into a grin. ]

Save perhaps for our... mutual friend.

[Her shoulder lifts up against his hand as she shifts her weight from one hip to the other.

Not very subtly, the narration might add.]

Mutual friend?

[She plays dumb just long enough to let the moment sink in, and then-]

Ah, you are referring to Athos.

[Milady's innocent expression returns, with a vengeance.]

And how has he settled in?

[ Buckingham shakes his head a little, as if bored by the question. ]

Pleased about the free wine, I expect. Displeased that his friends aren't there to watch him drink it.

[ He shrugs dismissively before his smile betrays that he just thought of something more amusing. ]

Although he seemed rather... distraught to learn of your survival.

Did he?

[She's almost surprised, actually, but covering the emotion fairly well by tracing Buckingham's bare clavicle instead, having peeled away some layers of his clothing.]

He tends to be miserable no matter the circumstances. [She adds matter-of-factly,] It's how he copes.

[ This poor man's mundane enthusiastically pointed at the fickle muse and told Philip to go strike up a conversation.

Knowing that everything his mun arranges for him is somehow bound to be part of a scheme to cause him more emotional or physical agony he only approaches warily, attempting a smile regardless. ]

Honestly, I'd be worried rather than flattered. It starts with admiration, but after a while they suddenly wonder what sort of trauma they can throw at you that would make for an interesting writing exercise.

I don't think trauma is on my mundane's to-do list. Not for me, anyway.

[But...oh. Oh, my. Well, don't you look familiar.]

...Do I know you from somewhere?

[She saunters closer.]

Yet,

[ he remarks bitterly before he can help himself and instantly feels a little bad for not having enough decorum to avoid topics filed under 'future torments and you'. ]

...Sorry. [ Oh hey, there is some sauntering. And a question he seems to get asked a lot these days, but unfortunately his mun did not think filling him in on any connections they may have was necessary. ]

I, um- I can't imagine. [ A smile and a quick glance at her clothes. ] Unless this is just a hobby I'd guess we were never in the right place or time to meet.

Edited 2012-03-25 18:51 (UTC)

No, I- I suppose you are correct.

[She quiets, the slightest hint of distress apparent in her tone.]

You just...look so much like him.

...I probably shouldn't ask, should I?

[ A slightly sheepish smile. It doesn't sound like a happy kind of resemblance. ]

Oh, no, it's-

[She pats his arm - when did she get so close? - reassuringly, sporting a sweet smile.]

It's fine, it's just my husband, he- he died about a year ago. You could pass for his twin.

[ His eyes widen, because she looks tragically young for a dead husband. ]

Oh. I--

[ He fights the urge to withdraw from the gesture, not exactly wanting to give off a negative signal like that to a poor, grieving widow.

(His most recent death experience was not a partner. Regardless he can relate. This must be an awful encounter for her.) ]

I'm so sorry to hear that.

[Oh so tragically young.]

I'm quite well now, you simply gave me a bit of a fright.

[She extends a delicate hand in greeting - or rather, expecting the proper protocol to be executed.]

Lady Clarick.

[ A smile of relief. ]

Philip--

[ Philip extends a hand as well, only to instantly jerk it back a little and give pause when he realises what kind of greeting is expected of him.

Er. Uh. Right.

Take two. Taking her hand slowly and taking a step forward to place a kiss on it. Awkwardly. ]

Philip LaFresque.

[Oh, that is just adorable.]

LaFresque?

[She smiles very fetchingly, because that is what she does, and you cannot see past the mask of sweetness.]

A curiously French name for an Englishman, if you don't mind my saying so.

[ He actually breathes a little laugh of relief, because in all that awkwardness he very nearly forgot to offer anything that contributes to the conversation. ]

No, not at all, I actually- I used to get that a lot. It's, um... my father's grandfather, he was still born in Belgium.

[ Though at what age he left or how many generations of what nationality preceded him Philip can't say. Prenatal abandonment and all tha-- Right! Conversation! ]

And you're...? [ Clarification? ...Clarification. ] From- from where, I mean.

Belgium.

[A beat.

Another beat.

A swift processing of her history.]

...ah, Belgica Foederata and Regia. [Milady waves a dismissive hand.] Interesting that it is united, seeing as the Spanish have the latter half and the Hapsburgs, the former.

[But enough of that.]

I hail from England, formerly from France. Turmoil has the unfortunate tendency to plague many great countries at this time.

[Not that she has a hand - or two - in any of this turmoil, or anything.]

...Then I should probably ask for that time- erm, your year instead.

[ It would help with English history at least, Belgium might be a bit out of his area of knowledge. ]

1625.

[No sense lying about that.]

Are you at all familiar with the time?

[ Do have a well-behaved bow and a punctual reply. ]

Surely Milady's timely habits will not escape her despite the circumstances.

Rochefort.

[A purr, rather than a statement. Milady extends her hand in the unmistakable gesture for him to place a kiss upon it.]

You know me far too well- [Hardly.] -to know that that couldn't possibly happen, no matter the situation.

[ Her hand is taken and obliged with a precise kind of delicacy. Pay no mind to the fact that his touch may be exceptionally cold. ]

There was never a doubt in my mind.

[ Though she has a much more marginal idea of choice than she may think. ]

[Oh, my dear, believe me - she has known colder hands and colder hearts, although Rochefort reaches the admirable temperature of below freezing.]

And how have you fared of late?

[Milady smiles sweetly.]

Oh, but she is right to admire, madame! Vous êtes tellement mignonne!

[ Such a gorgeous face, she could just rip it right off and mount it over the mantlepiece in her library. ]

[French? Oh, my my my.]

Vous êtes trop sucré, mademoiselle.

[Were it possible for voices to drip honey, Milady's would be thick and rich enough to drizzle over some nice, hot crêpes.]

Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me your name?

Perhaps you would care to start with yours? Unless you need another moment to think on it?

[ Ahahahahahhh. Hah. ♥ ]

[Impudent little-]

Milady de Winter.

[...and she smiles with all the saccharine goodness she can possibly muster, despite the tone of voice which implies, dearheart, that you should watch your tongue around someone of such high rank.]

And you?

Canon is The Three Musketeers (2011 Adaptation), Muse is Fickle

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