Sheriff's manor - Culture Tour After-Party

[Manacledairman]

Aldrich heaves himself to a seated position and blearily glances around the room. He smiles and sits comfortably with his elbow on the arm of the sofa and his head resting against his fist. He tenses up as he notices his sleeves are still somewhat rolled down and quickly rolls them back to full length, fastening them at the wrists. He muscles visibly relax and he settles in to watch more chaos.

[Jean-Jacques]

Jean-Jacques smiles, returns his attention to the room

“Ze learned and ingenious Fontanelle expresses ‘eemself on ze subject as follows:”

“Ze whole question of ze pre-eminence between ze ancients and ze moderns, once eet is well understood, is reduced to knoweeng whezzer ze trees which formerly in our country side were bigger zan zhose of today. In ze event zat zey were, Homer, Plato, Demosthenes cannot be equalled in zese latter centuries.”

“Wiz ze illustrious academieeks permission zat ees not at all zee state of ze question. Eet ees not a matter of knoweeng whezzer nature ‘as been able to produce in our day as great geniuses and as good works as zhose of ze Greeks and Latin antiquity, but to know whezzer we ‘av ahem in fact. Wizzout doubt it is not impossible for zere to be as big oaks in ze forest of Chantili as in ze forest of dodona.”

“Nature ees not bizarre, ze oaks, ze poets, zey inform what follows”

He turns once more to face Hermina and stares directly into her eyes.

Elder Hermina, you alone stand engraved ‘pon mine ‘eart incomparable wiz all of zees things, ze wonders of ze world, ze ancients and ze modern are dulled in se presence of your beauty.”

He casts his gaze around the room, motion an arc with his hand before returning his gaze to Hermina

“Wis zese words, i am yours, and all ‘ere bear witness to zis.”

[Madam Zaragoza]

Hermina is not used to such attention and practically swoons at his words. She is not often left speechless but she just stares at him for some seconds. He’s mine? Really? She thinks.

“Jean-Jaques, I... I... I am lost for words. You are... “

She leans forward to kiss him gently as a true lover would.

[Jean-Jacques]

Jean-Jacques moves from the lecturn, sweeps Hermina from the chaise long, and moves gracefully towards the exit, at the doorway, he turns, faces Valentina.

“Ancilla Valentina, Ee dare zee to plant la kiss Française ‘pon Elder Dukes.”

the pair then disappear from view.

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina raises an eyebrow and quirks a smile. She’s apparently not bothered by the challenge, aura reading amusement rather than trepidation.

That said, she’s no fool and not about to anger an Elder so she stands and staying where she is, politely curtseys to Dukes.

“Sheriff, you have heard my challenge. May I impose upon your good nature?”

At Dukes rebuff of “very sweet, no thank you.” She raises both eyebrows.

“I think, good Elder, that you must give me a new dare and take one for yourself….” And she smiles sweetly at him.

On hearing his new challenge of “tell me, critically, everything wrong with the way I dress, including accessories”

She grins wolfishly, her eyes lighting up. “Of course dear Sheriff, it would be my pleasure.”

For a long moment she does nothing, but scrutinise him, looking him slowly up and down, then, eventually she gives one small sniff of disapproval, then gets to work, counting the points off on her fingers as she goes.

“Well Sir, you haven’t the delicacy to wear slippers, which is a shame,because it would do much to hide your appallingly mismatched socks. And earlier, when you were shod, only one of your shoes was polished and at that in the wrong shade of polish!

A hiking stick should only ever be used in rough terrain, not for going about town, your glasses are smeared, ill fitted and thirty years out of fashion and you must surely own cravats so why you sport that monstrosity masquerading as a cravat when any fool could tell it is a handerkerchief is beyond me!

As for waistcoat, the cut is wrong, the line is poor, the fabric illsuited and the fashion hideous even when it was in, which, sir, it must be said is getting on for several centuries previous!

To finish things off, I note that your trousers would be better suited to your kitchen boy than yourself in size, style and colour.”

She sighs, in the manner of a society mama disappointed wth her child. “Frankly Elder, I advise you to wear your pyjamas next gathering. They cannot be worse than that which you have garbed yourself in now!”

She she seats herself again, making sure to flop down at speed so that her skirts poof out to heap in beautiful fluffy mounds around her and grins unrepentantly at him.

“I’m sorry Elder, but well, you did ask…”

[Jean-Jacques]

Jean-Jacques reappears at the doorway, smile pon his face he moves towards the vacant Chaise long and gently lays Hermina down such that she can use his lap as a p[once more.

He looks around the room, ascertaining what he may have missed

[Posh-Tim]

Keane is fair blown sideways as Valentina retakes her seat. Not that he is complaining much. He considers her note that the Sheriff is due another forfeit for rebuffing the Ancilla. He leans forward. Then realises he's just finished his second cup of tea and lays back again, steadying himself on the arm of the chair and Valentina's knee.
"Elder Sheriff Dukes, as was pointed out you should take another task and a forfeit at that. I have an idea. You said that all these books are gifts, just by here." He gestures vaguely at the bookcases.
"But I am sure you know their contents... Intimately." He let's the word hang there for a moment, pendulous.
"I challenge you to pick you favourite, most loved title from upon those shelves and gift it to whom you wish had it the least." He eyes the residue of Durhams performance.
"Not because of what they will do with it, but because of what it contains, and what it means to you."
His eyes start rotating at the effort of making it through the opium Haze and he crumples up a bit, falling quiet again.

[alanwrotethis]

Dukes listens... good naturedly, to the entire critique.
At the mention of his hiking stick he raises his brows, a flicker of... it is gone, but the comment there touched at him sorely, however briefly.
"Excellent, insightful.... thank you," he says, nodding at the ancilla. "I will strive to better myself."
He sits back, the glow of brandy still on him.
"I miss courtly robes though.... low sleeves, so many sashes.... ready access below when you needed it-"
He chuckles.
"I mean- I know not of your human lovemaking. But thank you, no harm in trying to look handsome... whatever that means nowadays."
He glances at the room.
I have a stacked deck spread against me... do as you will.
He listens to Keane's challenge, a twinkle of... mirth? Aggression? Rising pride?
"Very well, a moment."
He stands, striding over to the shelves... his energy that of a manic drunk, buoyed rather than saddened by drink.
"Let me... ah... I see."
He takes a book from the shelf, hesitates, reaches for another.
"Here."
He returns to the gathered chairs, holding a barely touched, old manuscript.
"This is a book on mathematical philosophies, penned in the 14th century by a fraud scholar from Constantinople, one often paid to feign authorship of the works of Muslim and Turkish scholars in order to market their ideas to the jingoistic Orthodox elite. He was not a skilled mathematician, but with a few flourishes of local culture he claimed many great works as his own. This volume, reprinted a fair few times over the centuries, is a lingering legacy of his plagiarism. It is... the first book ever published under his name."
He walks over to Aldrich.
"I offer this book to you, Elder. You are a man of poise and integrity, who values status and personal pride. The scholar who wrote this book... who took credit for writing this book, had none of these traits. And to this day, this drivel has sat on my shelf... untouched by any scholar of true merit."
He hands the book to the elder.
"The Formulae and Theorems of Changing Tides, by Niketas Doukas."

[L .]

"New round," Aurelia says quickly, as if to change the subject or detract attention to herself. "We'll deal with Elder Dukes' truths later." She halts herself, as she realises: "Actually, scratch that. Have two quick ones now, Sheriff. One, what is your most prized possession. Two, what is your greatest shame."

"While you think - go anytime on those, Niketas - let's just do two more rounds? Because half of us are off our faces already. So: this is the semi-final. Do please attempt to knock out your fellow Caaaai-indred, so we can have an actual winner. I am given to understand that's important. To that end, who-ever is not knocked out by the third and final round, you win. How about a gift from each of us to that winner, your own choices on what your gift is to them; just ensure you feel it befitting of the difficulty of their win."

"Losers in this round can still truth or dare their choice of person. Vengeance, etcetera."

"If we have multiple people left in somehow by the end of that third round, you are terrible degenerates and I will think of some horrible things myself that you have to do, to determine the final Kindred standing."

"Elder Keane," Aurelia says while swinging her gaze to him. She's settled back into her chair. "In my attempt to knock you out. I dare you to demonstrate your skill with Dominate, by obliging...." she looks around the room, with a low light of scrutiny. Realises her mistake immediately; the target could falsify results. "Me, to do something of your choice. I will not relent. But I do wish to... taste your skill, let us say."

[Manacledairman]