iv. dictated

[heloise]

Many of you expressed a need to return home for the sake of some great purpose, as if the castle's choosing is not so arbitrary.

Or perhaps it is because we all believe our purpose great.

And, a man's home is his castle.

[ Lucrezia is lying on the snow by the duck pond, hiding from the festivities today. Her white and gold dress serves almost as a disguise, though her blue coat forming a puddle nearby does not. She watches the sky and haltingly hums a song. ]

Comments

[peacockherald]

<sub>[Oh Havens, song. When was the last time he heard a song? He couldn't even play one now, thanks to this castle, and that had cut him to the bone, the loss of that. At least he could still hear it and appreciate it.

He followed the sound around the duck pond to the not unattractive young woman lying there in the snow.]</sub>

What sort of song is that, milady?

_{[Always a gentleman, a habit born from years beneath his mother's tutelage.]}

[heloise]

[ Poor man. He should have stumbled on a more proficient singer than this one, stumbling over the notes and barely remembering the song! She doesn't seem bothered by it however, laughing at herself as she sits up to greet him with a bow of her head. ]

It is a song for dancing, messere, by the maestro di capella of the Spanish embassy.

[peacockherald]

I assure you I would be more impressed if I was more read on your people's. Alas, I have no idea who that is, but nonetheless, a lovely tune.

[heloise]

Is it not? [ She shifts to sit up straight, gesturing for him to come closer. ] I heard it first on my wedding day.

[peacockherald]

A happy day for you, I suspect.

_{[He nods to her graciously and settles, his own deep blue cloak spreading about him.]}

[heloise]

[ Her smile doesn't even falter. She gestures to herself by way of introduction. ]

My name is Lucrezia Borgia.

[peacockherald]

Vanyel Ashkevron.

_{[He takes her hand gently and bends his head, lightly brushing her knuckles with his lips.]}

A pleasure, milday.

[heloise]

[ She bites back a smile. There are few in this castle who remembers to do that. ]

May I call you Vanyel?

[peacockherald]

If you so like, Lady Borgia.

But why are you out here in the snow, ruining your silks? They don't like wet and cold.

[heloise]

Please, call me Lucrezia.

I have enough silk to spend one romping in the beautiful snow.

[peacockherald]

_{[He chuckles.]}

I guess it would not be a consideration where we can wish up clothing like it were nothing.

[heloise]

Indeed.

And so, you must entertain no such considerations. Come sit with me, Vanyel.

[peacockherald]

_{[He bows slight and does so, offering her a kind smile that does not quite touch his eyes.]}

Do you like the winter then, to be out here so?