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| [Private] Tea and Tete-a-tete; "Life is like a cup of tea..." | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 28 2016, 06:14 PM (249 Views) | |
| heiner777 | Jun 28 2016, 06:14 PM Post #1 |
"Sapientia Sola Libertas Est"
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A typical Monday afternoon in Poinsettia consisted of young schoolgirls walking back to their respective houses with their fashionable clique while chatting upon their current or future adventures in the field of romance and fashion. It was quite normal for young girls to fantasize about their princes and knights-in-shining-armor taking them away from their mundane life and troubles into a world filled with adventure, riches, and love. Lucky for them, a newly-opened tea and dessert shop catered specifically to those fantasies and the waiters themselves – all members of the esteemed Blue Pegasus guild – were all those things and more in their own right. It was a girl's fairy tale come true, or so the subtitle in Cafe Castella advertised. Located on the corner of Unicorn Market and the Poinsettia Public Park, Cafe Castella is a two-story converted housing establishment that jutted out from a row of nearly similar two-story residential buildings occupied by the middle-class citizens of the city. The cafe’s Chateauesque design complimented the general architectural template of its mother-buildings and of most of the Unicorn Ward’s structures which mixed elegance with robustness to create a lasting expression of class that can withstand the test of time. It, however, took several artistic liberties to make the building itself stand out from its sister-buildings by adding stone awnings to its portion of the sidewalk and a light-up sign that advertised itself and its logo – a white prancing horse. A flash of black and white flashed in front of the window of the establishment moments before the door chime rang to signal the arrival of another customer. With a smile, the handsome male staff greeted the new face, politely asking the young man what he wanted to order and gesturing to the myriad of tea flavors one can choose as well as the desserts that were perfect for them. The one-armed customer smiled and nodded in their general direction before going to the cashier to place his order and pay for his meal. “Good day, just give me a slice of vanilla cake and tall order of Earl Gray with a stick of cinnamon, two lumps of sugar as well, and add milk, if you please.” The guildsman fronting the cashier nodded politely before delegating the making of the order to his fellow workers to make. Turning back to the newcomer, the man informed him of his bill. “That would be nine hundred Jewels, sir,” said the worker to which the man smiled and handed over the exact amount. The charcoal black suit, white long-sleeved collared shirt, and red ribbon tie ensemble made it painfully obvious that the young man could easily pass off as one of the most popular members of Blue Pegasus. In fact, it was simply unheard of at how handsome the guy was. Hair as black as ebony with eyes deep-red like rose petals; with a face of an angel, or maybe a devil, that could easily pluck the heart of any man, woman, or child he so desired. It was like he was an artist’s statue given life. Nobody knew him or even dared to inquire, although if one managed to muster up the courage, then one would know the name of Vento Aureo, a field researcher from Neo Cortex. Vento bowed in gratitude then moved away from the cashier to find a chair where he could sit. It was in the afternoon so he expected such a popular establishment to be full, but with his charm, he managed to obtain a seat with some teenage girls from St. Liliana Girl’s Academy, one of Poinsettia’s most prestigious academic institutions for non-mages. The gentlemanly act served the scholar well in times like this for while it was true that the charming act was not foolproof, it was certainly his best bet rather than to stand around in a packed eatery. The raven-haired researcher spotted the place by the window and mentally laid claim to the two-seat table where nobody seemed to take; it was as if everyone, even the young women whom he would dine side-by-side with, were united in their acknowledgment that he should be seated there. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, the scholar acted upon his thoughts and sat in place. There, while waiting for his meal and drink to come, the raven-haired Adonis basked in his silence, gazing through the looking glass with an expression of such deep introspection that Vento himself looked more like a heartbroken Casanova than an intellectual out to just have some rest and relaxation. Rays of orange light cascaded down his milky-white visage, the Old World gentleman fashion he sported only adding to the young man’s allure, like a still-painting come to life; and thus putting him squarely in mostly everyone’s sights with one hope in mind. Surely a man of elegance like himself would find tea with cake even more enjoyable when shared with another, right? Edited by heiner777, Jun 28 2016, 06:37 PM.
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| 竜 Mazohyst | Jun 29 2016, 01:30 AM Post #2 |
Stay the course.
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Poinsettia hadn't changed a bit since he was last here. The streets were still sparkling clean, the marble buildings still pearly white, and the nobles still standing with their noses held high in snobbishness. If there was anything Artorius could appreciate it would be the ever-decreasing skirt length of the young women that traveled through the city in droves. In his youth, Artorius would have enjoyed them and not just appreciated them, too. But he was older now, with far more responsibilities than he could ever imagine himself having. Poinsettia hadn't changed, but Artorius had. He had all the responsibilities that came with being a master of his own guild now. Ever since Nine Lives had been formed, Artorius had struggled hard to bring it to such heights that the Magic Council now deemed it legal and legitimate. This was only the first step, however, and Artorius immediately began to expand his contacts, responsibilities, and duties in order to continue to improve his guild's standing on the social ladder. The easiest and quickest way to do this was to work with the other guilds. Some demanded alliances and oaths, promises of protection, but this wasn't what Artorius wanted. The man desired a business relationship with the other guilds, and one of the few that were open to the idea was Blue Pegasus. The idea was simple. All guilds require information, but few were as skilled in information gathering as Nine Lives. Artorius had taken the skills he developed as a ex-con, his tenure in Grimoire Heart, and spun it around for more legal purposes. As a result, he and the other members were now one of the most reliable sources of information in the guild network, and since Blue Pegasus wasn't after stolen goods or assassinations, this was their selling point to them. Artorius was penning Nine Lives to become an information broker of sorts to Blue Pegasus, and he was hoping it would work. The man couldn't do this alone, however. He needed a middle-man. Or, a woman, actually. Xena Raster was an old friend from Blue Pegasus who Artorius had written a letter to. She wrote back, naturally, and mentioned a particular cafe owned by the guild. But the girl never showed. Artorius wasn't worried about her, though. She was strong enough to take care of herself. In all likelihood, she probably got lost, somehow, or wrote the wrong address. Artorius sneered over this, annoyed at his poor luck, and resigned himself to enjoying the cafe anyway. Artorius threw his cigar away, pulled his hood down, and entered the cafe. The giggle of schoolgirls immediately caught his attention. The cafe was chock full of them. "Did you pick this place just to mess with me, Xena?" Artorius thought to himself with a melancholy sigh. After a moment, he realized that the schoolgirls were almost enraptured by him, and half a second later he realized why as he spotted a rack of magazines of Sorcerer Magazine with his face printed on it. Artorius stared at the picture for a moment and blinked hard. He didn't remember getting his picture taken, which would have meant he was ambushed for one. Nevertheless, printed beneath a picture of himself were words in a catchy, colorful font about how he was one of the newest guild masters, and that there was more information on page 69. Rolling his eyes, Artorius flipped through the magazine, and found catchy phrases like "tall, dark, handsome", "bad boy", and other such trifles. Artorius shoved the magazine back onto the rack and looked for an open booth. Xena could still be coming, and he figured if he was going to wait he might as well eat something. All the booths, however, were all taken. All of them filled by young girls. Except for one. One of the tables was filled by a gentleman. Artorius didn't want to sit beside one of the girls who would no doubt pester him with questions and attention. So, he resigned himself to sitting with the other man without saying a single word, no less. |
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| heiner777 | Jun 29 2016, 04:08 PM Post #3 |
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"Sapientia Sola Libertas Est"
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As Vento sat alone absently gazing into the afternoon scenery with weary eyes, the silence of his world was interrupted by the familiar sound of a chair being moved before a handsome umber-maned man with hazel eyes and a dark hooded jacket the color of cold and dreary nights spent in one too many abandoned cemeteries came to his attention. He sat in front of him without as much as a complimentary question of whether or not he may share the table with the scholar, who, being the first one to had laid claim to the spot, had every right to shoo away anyone who tried to invade his privacy. Of course it was not like he minded it or anything, but at least a modicum of proper etiquette would have been nice; after all, it did not take the academic proficiency of a field researcher from an independent research organization like Neo Cortex to figure out that such things, although trivial, were the norm in communal settings concerning strangers. Then again, even a simple action like that implied that the person at first glance was someone who was used to getting his way either by hook or by crook, damned be the consequences. Too tired to be annoyed at the other’s apparent ignorance of proper social graces, the young man forced a chuckle, especially since the murmurs of the teenaged ladies around them grew audible enough for Vento to understand that they were trivial debates on why two gorgeous gentlemen shared a table with neither expressing discontent nor objection to the presence of the other even in the slightest bit. Flights of fancy soon came to be and it did not take long for some of the females to speculate that the two were either good friends, shaky acquaintances, or – the most ludicrous of all assumptions – homosexual lovers experiencing some kind of falling out and were trying to mend a broken relationship. Vento cringed at the last portion while mentally slapping his forehead out of exasperation. He worried for the future of Poinsettia’s youth if these thoughts were what preoccupied the minds of the city’s next generation. As such, a knowing groan silently escaped his lips; this had happened before during the time when he and his assistant, Tsuna Kushinada – then dressed as a male – dined at a restaurant to the unwanted audience of several other diners who stared at them with scandal reflected in their eyes. Nevertheless, it was neither a surprise for people to be so quick to judge based on what they saw nor for their interests to become piqued with things that stood out from the plebian humdrum of the daily grind. It was just human nature to seek the fantastic and shun the mundane. Having already given up on hoping that his portion of the admirers would simply go back to seeing the erudite appeal in the raven-haired researcher before the arrival of the other man, the scholar let out a sigh of surrender and left the onlookers to their own devices. He was there to relax, not to let others ruin his precious few moments of respite from completing a research paper on the Genie’s Lamp and the various arcane mysteries that surrounded its construction. Out of courtesy, however, he at least attempted to inform the gallantly roguish fellow he was seated with of the current state of things, if for some reason or the other he failed to notice it for himself. “It seems as though you and I have been the center of attention for the past few minutes,” enlightened Vento in a casual manner and thereafter propped his left elbow onto the table and rested his chin onto the palm of his sole hand. “To think that all you have to do spark a story is to put two things together and let societal norms do the rest; lies and truth coalescing into something that is neither one or the other, yet accepted all the same because it is the most interesting thing beyond simpler explanations. In that aspect, fantasy trumps reality – would you not agree?” A slightly playful smirk formed on his lips, his seeming crisscross of explanations coming together as a fulcrum for the young scholar’s true query for his seatmate. “So what brings you here in this rather cheerful cafe? I highly doubt you came here for the cakes and refreshments, but I might be wrong,” admitted Vento. “I meant no offense by this, mind you, but it is just like you seem to be someone who is more at home inside of a tavern than a tea shop. No need to answer though.” |
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| 竜 Mazohyst | Jul 1 2016, 05:16 AM Post #4 |
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Stay the course.
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Proper etiquette was for people who had sticks up their asses. Artorius lived no less than half of his life believing in this. Even if his adoptive father had managed to beat a sense of respect for his elders into him, etiquette and proper manners were a bit much for the roguish man. While he could prove gentlemanly from time to time, he typically preferred to reserve that side of himself when it came to dealing with the fairer sex. Artorius had always found the company of women to be more pleasant, although he was making an exception this time solely because he didn't want the attention of petulant teenagers. So, when the man who sat across the table showed vague signs of annoyance at Artorius' lack of politeness, Artorius merely looked indifferent. He had always been the sort to take, and do, what he wanted without much thought about it. Artorius ignored the glances and gossip of the women in the cafe. The man was largely unaffected by this. People were always so quick to gossip and judge. Artorius had been judged all his life for being poor and looking the part, for being born with peasant blood, and so on. Compared to that, what was the harm in letting a few girls innocently daydream? A waiter, clad in a charcoal waistcoat and dress pants, approached the table, taking his order. Artorius silently pointed at the menu, placing his finger on an order of genmaicha, a blend of green tea with roasted brown rice. A relatively cheap order, and in fact one of the cheapest in the entire cafe, but Artorius had simple tastes, and the so-called "people's tea" as it was known in Minstrel was always delightful to his palate. The man didn't say a word to the other until, finally, his counterpart said to him. Artorius squinted as the other spoke, finding amusement in the man's vernacular. He had always wondered if so-called scholars or nobility spoke in such a long-winded because they enjoyed the sound of their own voice. Artorius thought back to the days he would sneak into galas and balls and speak in such a manner, but he had always spoken in satire and mockery while everyone was none the wiser. Nevertheless, Artorius didn't immediately disregard what his new companion said solely because of its delivery. There was value in the other man's words, and though Artorius was hardly the pinnacle of politeness, he wouldn't go so far as outright ignoring him without a good enough (in his eyes) reason to do so. "Let them talk," Artorius spoke, his voice full of grit and gravel compared to the other man's smooth, perfectly enunciated speech. "There's worse things out there than the daydreams of a handful of starry-eyed girls. Though, I disagree with what you say. Reality is far more interesting. Truth is stranger than fiction in my eyes." Artorius genuinely believed that one. He'd been in far too many strange, exotic, and seemingly impossible situations more times than he could possibly count. He'd never thought he'd ever meet Mokalure, never thought he'd be in a stable relationship either, and he sure as shit never believed he'd be in charge of a handful of brats either, but it was as he had said: truth is stranger than fiction. "But, you're right," he continued, moving the conversation to answer the man's question. "Cafes are not my cup of tea," Artorius choked a little as he realized he made a pun. Ever since he had formed his little guild and effectively played "Dad" to his subordinates, Artorius had somehow gotten into the knack of making terrible puns and jokes. He shrugged it off, and moved forward. "I don't dislike them. My woman drags me into these places all the time. But, I'm here for work. A partnership can be a beautiful thing, wouldn't you say? That's why I'm here. There's a lucrative business proposition I'm planning to offer to the owners of this establishment. Unfortunately," Artorius held off a sigh. "My middle-man isn't here. The unreliable brat..." |
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| heiner777 | Jul 3 2016, 03:09 AM Post #5 |
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"Sapientia Sola Libertas Est"
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The scholar could feel another self-demeaning chuckle leap out from his mouth when he was asked by his seatmate if he believed in the thing called ‘partnership’. “That would depend entirely on the partner,” he answered swiftly, his reply a truth that was undeniable despite its seemingly half-hearted delivery. It was not like he was mocking the other for describing the concept as something ‘beautiful’, but rather, because his own experiences had made Vento rather skeptical about the supposed ‘beauty’ in it without first determining the worth in the one whom he would allow the privilege to call him a ‘partner’. “Having a partner and being in a partnership may not always be as wonderful as one would think,” explained Vento, his head wheeling in his palm back to the window. “Make the mistake of choosing one who cannot perform up to your expectations and you are left with nothing but a headache of a relationship which you may or may not renege from. At least, that is as far as I can say based on my experiences.” A ghost of a smile formed on the scholar’s lips realizing the bitter irony of his statement. Here he was preaching like he knew how to avoid stressful associations with less-than-preferred company, yet it was he himself who had picked out such partners who, in the long run, was more than what he had bargained for; twice. The first one was an intellectually competent man of few words who was always ready to please and always ready to take up some new endeavor content with being a mere errand boy for the raven-haired researcher. When he committed suicide and became a ghost, Vento never thought that he and his new partner would ever experience being haunted by his vengeful spirit, nearly had their lives siphoned out from them by it, and ultimately resulted in him losing his right arm to the said specter due to the latter ripping the said appendage to shreds with his shadow appendages. However, that was nothing compared to the things he had to put up with in the case of his second and latest partner. Tsuna Kushinada, Vento’s second partner, is the heiress of the Kushinada business empire in Crocus, yet despite all her wealth, she strangely decided to eke out a living on her own and suffered a hand-to-mouth existence for who knows how long. Vento found her in such a dilapidated state and, mostly because he himself had been short on funds to hire Blue Pegasus guild mages, opted for her instead mostly due to her extremely rare magecraft that cancels out magic. It turned out that it was a decision that has cost him sleepless nights and constant headaches due to the young woman’s murderously psychotic personality switches and mood swings, abhorrent stupidity, and owner-possessiveness that rivals that of a family’s pet dog and occasionally triggers the first quirk. She was also the primary reason why he lost his arm in the first place. Thinking back to his luck on companions, the scholar heaved a hugely depressing sigh. He hoped that the man’s chosen acquaintances were more capable than any of his own and that he was blessed with the luck to attract several more; Vento would never wish his own misfortunes on any other living human being since, if anyone other than him would be in the situation the researcher was in, they would have probably have gone insane by now or just jumped off the nearest cliff into oblivion. Their lives were too precious to be marred down by such despair. Speaking of lives, the umber-haired man mentioned that he preferred reality over fantasy, even if in Vento’s point of view that his statement exactly proved his belief. “With respect to your statement about reality being more interesting than fantasy, I reckon that you must have an interesting life to be able to say that,” he said in gradual explanation of his point while turning his attention away from the window and back to his discussant. “Unfortunately, unlike you, most of the people here are not as fortunate to have as exciting of a life, and in all probability, this city will be their entire world. Reality is relative in the same way as truth is relative – actual fantastical things only a rare few have only seen may as well be a myth told only in story books. Thus, at least as far as most people are concerned, your reality may be fake and theirs is real simply because what is fake is their ‘reality’ and the only things they know as ‘true’; and the majority wins. As simple as that.” Just as Vento finished glancing over his own interpretation and understanding of the dichotomy of truth and reality as a perspective of each person, a waiter arrived and presented him with his order – a slice of vanilla cake and a tall mug of Early Grey with milk and cinnamon sticks. The slightly spiced aroma followed by the mellow fragrance of the tea and milk mixing together wafted up Vento’s nose, tantalizing him with the heavenly brew as if tempting him to take a sip before his seatmate’s order arrived. He was better than that, however; he would wait for the other’s genmaicha to arrive if only to see if the other would drink it as readily as he would. Before that, however, the scholar opted to engage in more small-talk to pass the time. “I am in no way doubting you, however; for while I may be in the same boat as a good number of the people here, I am open-minded since I desire to know the unknown. Thus, in connection to what I said before, might I ask what occupation do you engage in? From how you look, you have impressed upon me the image of a magus, a knight, or maybe something a bit more discreet and under the table,” he smirked. “Once again, I meant no offense – just curious is all even if I know that curiosity killed the cat. Again, no need to answer if you feel that you would rather keep in under wraps; secrecy, after all, is likewise part of my trade.” The last statement did not imply anything out of the ordinary, although if the other man would take it as a personal jab, then it was wholly unintentional. Nevertheless, the raven-haired researcher maintained his cool before the man to signify the sincerity of his perusal of person and was ready to be subjected to the same should the umber-haired man deem that a tit-for-tat was in order. |
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4:47 PM Jul 13
