In the Pursuit of Arpeggios

    Evening has fallen over Eas. In the area around the theater, the sound of music playing can be heard. There is a concert, and while the house has many seats still available, many like to listen outside, where the sweet sounds of stringed instruments can be heard. Unfamiliar to most western ears, their beauty does not demand familiarity to appreciate.

    Among those listening outside Baroness Wake, who sits on a bench not far from the statue of the Beautiful One. She looks out over the waters of the lake, though she does occasionally divert her attention to watch a group of children playing some creative variant of tag, frequently using a nervous food vendor as a barrier to avoid being made 'it'.

    Meanwhile. Backstage.
    "It's going to be okay." Lauren's quick sewing saves one thing before she is swept into a team to address another. All the little things that occur before one has to go on stage.
    "Mmm," Lauren is telling an actor with zero empathy for one of the conductors of a sympathy, as she prepares her for not only her appearance but also-- "pins! pins! pins!"-- hair that will remain in place. Finally, for all the outward serenity to move like a swan in the evening o'er the lake, Lauren looks utterly lost for a moment before something occurs to her.
    "Here," she says finally, giving the poor woman her own gossamer scarf. The weft is so finely matched with warp that it looks like voile in an ultraviolet sunset. "Just take my scarf, you're an artist, no one questions."

    Wake is blissfully unaware of the troubles behind stage. She prefers it that way. Lander directors, adventurer directors, whoever is in charge of the production sees to those matters. She only weighs-in on what goes on stage and when. It is, after all, her responsibility.

    She can hear some reaction or other from the crowd inside the theater. The cunning tricks of engineering that channel sound from the stage outside are not meant to carry the applause or gasps or laughter from the audience. Still, a bit of them carries through. It's clear the audience is engaged in the production.

    Wake, however, is only partially engaged. She has chims coming her way. Mostly important but not terribly interesting things. They demand little attention, but they must be done.

    When the show is over, Lauren is part of the hangers-on who stay behind to make sure that the musicians are not too sloppy lest an aristocrat (donor) be offended. It is towards just such a motion that Lauren is given a bit a hug and pat on the back before being rewrapped in her throw, and finally, on her way out the (back) door and into the outside, where no one knows you are Wardrobe. Shaking her hair free so that she can properly drape the throw, she's a bit lost as she wanders hither and yon.

    By the time Lauren emerges from the theater, the crowd has somewhat dispersed. Many still remain here. Not to cloy after performers, really. That kind of obnoxious behavior is limited to a few adventurers. Fanboys and fangirls are not a force among the small population of Landers in Eas, thankfully. So those who do linger here are talking, laughing, giving the vendors a chance to earn their living.

    Wake is a common face, but she is a Legend and finds time to politely greet all of her people. Eventually, those greetings go from Landers to well, a wandering Sleeping Knight.

    "Good evening, Lauren. I trust the show went smoothly?"

    Her tone is warm, but there is a slight hint of distance. Not quite professional, but she does not insinuate intimacy of close friendship, either. She glides into a curtsey, the gesture she has turned into an artform. The action appears like a part of a dance, and with her skirts spread, she gives one the impression of floating.

    Lauren's black nails-- likely unpainted-- are in the midst of doing what every woman who looks after the hair of others does: heavy rearrangement. When she hears that voice, she turns to smile automatically, still on the afterglow of a high performance ride.
    "Baroness Wake!" Is Lauren's startled response, leaving her hair to continue to fray while she swivels into a curtsey. Upon hearing the tone, Lauren straightens up, places her hands (left over right) flush against her hip, and settles her gaze somewhere... other than eyesight, as one does with one's betters.
    "Well," Lauren says, still too painfully honest to dissemble, "It was smoothly for an orchestral performance where, if I understand correctly," her free hand flips for want of a point, "A symphony conductor really gave it to the brass section? I don't know what that means, but musicians are musicians wherever you go."

    Wake cants her head to the right ever so slightly. Her attention focuses on the Imp's face for a moment, and then she allows her eyes to stray slightly away. Interested, certainly, but not impolitely so. There is a moment of consideration, a silence allowed to stretch not quite to the point of discomfort.

    "Do you have plans for your evening meal?" she asks then. A slight curve comes to her lips, mixing in equal measure warmth and amusement. She imagines that it would be extremely difficult for Lauren to refuse her request, especially in Eas. It seems at the moment, that this is pleasing to her.

    "My wife would rather enjoy to have a guest or two with us tonight. If you have time, we would be pleased if you could join us. I would like to learn more about what you have been working on, as well."

    Listening attentively, Lauren is calmed from her rush, able to appreciate the evening air and the smell of anything not-performer. "That actually sounds lovely," She says directly to Wake, a candor in her gaze. "It is impossible to say no to you, you remind me to much of Her these days. When we led the prayer before the curtain went up," Lauren recalls, "I always make my peace with She of Beauty before I go on. And yet, I am to be rewarded! I would love to meet your significant other-- wife did you say? We have so much to discuss."
    In exactly one moment, what precisely there is to discuss flashes before Lauren's eyes.
    "So does your wife-- like how do you do your Queen of the Valkyrie act in between saving the world /and/ marriage?" She asks, looking bemused. "But you and your spouse are both saints, to be sure. Dinner?"

    "Excellent! Then we shall make our way to the castle," replies the Baroness. She shakes her head slightly, though, at the praise. Yet she smiles, "You flatter me, Lauren. I am nothing divine. And I am not even the highest ranking noble in the area. My beloved wife has been my Queen far longer than I have been responsible for this land."

    Distance or not, Wake has created more than a few customs unusual to the Landers and the Adventurers. She is warmer, closer, and in this case, she offers a hand to her guest before starting to lead the way.

    "I have so many questions for you, but if I begin now Tae will need to be caught up later. Far better if we sit down first! You will enjoy the fruits of her second greatest artform: cooking. It is a near thing, but I still consider her singing as the greatest of her arts."

    "So, did she put her kingdom up for sale?" Lauren replies, casual indifference glossing over the Fleetwood Mac reference even as Lauren slips her hand inside Baroness Wake's glove. Lest any onlookers get the wrong idea, or mistake the star of the show and evening for one of their Wardrobe people, Lauren steps back into another, smaller curtsey.

    "I can talk in dual drive," the imp tells the Duchess, amusement wry and older than her character's facial expression. "You know me, spin a table or three." She listens while passing along through the pastoral beauty that is Eas, alongside the living personification of beauty that is the Duchess, and in her wake, the sounds of musicians finally playing 'now that those onlookers are gone'. The stray quote catches Lauren, and she shares a glance followed by muted laughter with Wake.

    "You might say she had turned in her crown out of exhaustion with the press and later, when we first met in a lovely little club in Tokyo, truly fell from grace and into my arms," replies the Baroness. As soon as the pair passes through the southernmost of the arches, they are along, save for the occasional sight of a guard. The path from the hall to the castle is a winding one, moving along the edge of the lake until a bridge is reached that leads to castle Eas itself, which perches on the edge of a vast waterfall.

    For most of the walk, Wake seems content to simply enjoy the air. She does, however, explain, "You may call me Elly. I do not demand formality from those in my Alliance, and those I would befriend are invited to step inside my circle and use my real name." She attends Lauren's expression as she speaks. "It is strange, of course. Even the Japanese Adventurers outside of the trappings of court etiquette struggle with this, but I am rather persistent."

    A Big Picture person with an obsession for details, the incongruity seems to render even Lauren silent. Not motionless-- her free index finger seems to trail in the air as she gives up trying to point to the source of etiquette confusion. And thus it is with a wholly Western face that she says, "Oh. Well. I mean, I would never want to make anyone feel ill at ease. But we did just come from a concert that had no purpose--" a smile cracks her canine teeth, "and like, it didn't occur to anyone that it even ought to." She settles for cool laughter in the heavenly air, already of-a-piece and collected when at least partially in the dark. If she notices, she doesn't.
    "We must be very strange indeed. But people think fashion and wardrobe should change for /reasons/, and I have never understood that sentiment either."
    "But it lightens my heart and sets my soul to rest to see you again, Elly," She adds in a quieter, sweeter tone than anyone outside their Guild would know her to possess.

    Across the bridge and through the protective castle walls they go. The sound of the waterfall is constant, and quite loud. There is no feeling of anything but absolute steadiness along the streets, fortunately. For centuries this place has handled the power of the falls and all signs point to it lasting just as many more.

    Elly leads Lauren through the streets and into the Dome of Truth. Not a necessary path to follow, but the inside of the dome is worth a few extra steps, certainly. Even if it means there are a few people that spot them. But these are all Elly's person staff. There are a surprising number of maids for the hour. Many are Spriggans, but there are also Werefangs, Cait Sith, and Salamanders among them. A careful eye may note that these women do not move like maids, however. They are very quiet, very attentive, and have an aura of danger about them.

    "I am delighted that you are able to join us tonight. Especially on a quiet night in the castle," Elly says. "Some nights there are many guests, but the end of the Firefly Festival has cleared us of them. For now."

    She is at ease. But still, her posture is deliberate, controlled. She expresses her relaxation with the same focus that she would her concentration.

    And then, at last, they are there. Not at a dining room, but entering Elly's personal quarters. She does not open the door herself. It simply opens before her. Another of the servants is waiting inside, though this one wears a katana openly and has a silver badge of station on her left breast.

    "Baroness Wake, Lady Lauren," she intones gravely. Clearly the Lander was made aware who is coming. The small table in the sitting room has been set for three, as well.

    It must be said that, whatever one's avatar, it is one's behavior that acts as true hallmarks of class. And in a previous life, whoever she really used to be, Lauren resumes a deferential stance so natively, her Maid-like grace sees the movement as natural. She allows Elly to lead her where she will, to be presented how she will, and to be received... as she will.
    Neverthless, good style is good taste, and the imp steps back into a curtsey she maintains until dismissed. She does not speak until spoken to.

    "Thank you for everything," says gently to the Lander. "Lauren, this is Miriel, my First Lady of the Bedchamber. She is responsible for the functions of my home, including all the servants, gardeners, and guards allowed to work in this wing of the castle."

    Miriel glides into a graceful curtsey of her own and rises smoothly. She adds a bow to Wake. "I will ensure you are not disturbed." With this she departs through another door.

    Elly guides Lauren to a seat at the table. It is an oval, and Lauren is set on one side while the places for Elly and her wife are on the other. And even as Lauren is settling in, Tae arrives. She is short, slender, and has long, black hair. A bodyscanned human, her race in the world before may be obvious (Korean) and she may even be recognized by those who liked Korean pop music about a decade ago. She was quite famous.

    She is also very informal. She does not walk, but nearly bounds across the room to greet the guest. "Lauren! Thank you so much for joining us! The nights are better with the warmth of friendship burning brightly."

    Ever ready to receive dinner and a floor show, Lauren barely has a chance to say farewell to Miriel before she is moved again, and this time, rises just in case the newcomer should be someone of status.

    "You know," Lauren muses, "I said something just like that to Elly here not a few minutes ago. Granted. There were more clumsy musicians clamoring about, but," she spreads the long fingers of her hands, "Friendship makes everything better. Except some business ventures, I have been advised."

    "Indeed? A pity our musicians are not more agile. But then, they stay in the pit and never seem terribly interested in my choreography," replies Tae. There's a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she adds, quickly, "Now, let's see to it that everyone is fed."

    And so she does just that. She claps her hands and her work is brought in. The kitchen staff lacks the dangerous grace of the other servants, but they make up for that by being efficient. And for bringing delicious food. There is salad to start with a simple vinaigrette dressing. There is also grilled fish and many cooked vegetables, as well.

    Only when the food is set and the guest settled does Tae come to her wife. They limit themselves to a hug and eye contact that is brief, but intense. Then Elly draws back Tae's chair before sitting down, herself.

    "Now, Lauren, it is time to give an account of what you have been up to," Elly says. "What dreams are you chasing?"

    Predictably, Lauren chooses that moment to admire the silverware. "Is that properly tarnished Vermeil?" She asks in the dread dawning of a realization. "Oh I wish I had looked at it more closely." Leaning back to sit up perfectly straight in her chair, it is with etiquette that the maid is always most comfortable. "So, what dreams have I been chasing. It's an odd thing you should mention," she says.
    While speaking, oblivious to it all, the shadows around her close in tight; even her own reflection seemingly has its own agenda: making its owner look presentable. And should Lauren come within an instant of noticing, it vanishes. Like so much smoke.
    "I chose to follow a passion I always felt was the same Venn Diagram: Fashion, and enchantment. And the spirits attendant to the Royal Houses of both, of course," she says, flatly eliminating any insult to the Muses, the Graces, or anyone else Divine and so inclined. "But I am learning how to distill sunsets in the perfect powder blue to be spun into a silk ribbon on a black evening hat?" She kisses the air. "That is perfection, to me. The sum of all that I seek to be."

    Elly takes it in comfortably enough. The mention of fashion and enchanting are familiar topics, though only a few have practiced such a mixture. "You remind me of our dear friend, Pela, in this pursuit. She made me a gift. A cloak that billows in the wind. Even when there is no wind." A pause and she adds, "Just add magic."

    Tae is curious, of course. "What kind of fashion do you most enjoy? While we frequently work with Gwen, I would like someone to help me prepare costumes for my performances. Things, quite frankly, that are familiar to me. The lovely silks and dresses are fine, but I would like to remember my younger days, when I was fearless."

    Elly playfully adds, "And bare bellied." A sigh from the Baroness. Clearly she's indulging in her own sweet nostalgia. "Tae was a Korean pop performer when we met. Before... all of this." She waves vaguely, meaning of course, Elder Tale Online's world.

    "There has to be more to life if we are to get up, get out of bed very day, and do the thankless jobs of being adults," Lauren laments, staring at no one in particular after a moment spent choosing her words.

    "I always thought Maid was either an ironic choice, or the natural conclusion, given the Hollywood mother and the Daddy Warbucks father," Lauren speculates, at last returning her gaze to share between the Baroness and Tae. "What it does mean, for myself now and future and perhaps you middle-term, is that, well," Lauren steadies herself.
    "I mean I meant to inherit the fur coat Givenchy himself slipped on my mother's shoulders. If you want haute couture and old world glamour, done right," she insists, nearly touching a delicate fingernail to the surface to the table. "I'm making a very good go of it, I'm having a blast, and once I improve I intend to weaponize my efforts for the war," she says, genuinely perking up. "Who else but a maid has thought of all the worst places to have things go awry?"

    "Have you met a charming young thing," Lauren asks suddenly. "Gwen?"

    "I think we can have fun and make my performances more aesthetically pleasing," says Tae. "It's a mix of youthful playfulness and beauty, you might say. Mostly I just love to make people happy and I love to sing. I miss the little clubs and good music. But for now, we have a giant theater, which will do, as well."

    Elly sighs softly. "I will, of course, my beloved, make you a little jazz club just like you used to love." A pause, and without even the slightest hint of a joke, the Baroness adds, "First, though, I need to reinvent jazz. Starting with a proper piano. Then stringed instruments. Then brass. Saxophones, trumpets, trombones, all of it." She sighs again. "It is like trying to pick up a river with my bare hands at times. So much must be done just to achieve something that we had before. But, it also is an opportunity!"

    On the mention of maid talents, Elly nods. "I know my servants see a part of our lives that no one else does. They have seen it all. It comes with the territory of working around our personal chambers."

    Gwen's name gets a gentle laugh from both Elly and Tae. "We are very close to Gwen and her parents, yes. She has made many garments for both of us. We can trust her like few others. And she has a new creation she has achieved that we have already placed several orders for. After she finally catches up on her proper sleep."

    "Oh, do you mean her denim?" Lauren says, having immediately caught up to all things twill.
    She spreads her hands, much like Gwen may do, and launches full force ahead.
    "I devised this marketing scheme she was hip to, and she devised this entire affair she wanted that I was super hip to. And thus." Sunrise, sunset, Lauren looks happy as a clam.
    When she moves her hand swiftly across the table, any lace thereupon has switched itself out-- Spot Bronson perhaps, or Irish.
    "I... You know, I grew up so insular that privacy is a family affair. Hollywood is like that," Lauren says cautiously. "One must be born in, or marry in, or otherwise start very young. I think that's why I felt so comfortable under these circumstances. This already feels very like home to me."

    "Denim is lovely and remarkably helpful for our people," says Tae, suddenly serious. "It is a very durable material and excellent for use among our farmers. We are blessed that she brought this into the world."

    Elly nods in response to this. Most clothing struggles to handle the kind of stresses the common people face every day. She also explains, "She is making something like spandex. We have made substantial investments to support her work. She was overtaken with a strange mood because of it. And now she has achieved her goals. And we can wear all sorts of new, lovely things."

    The Baroness turns her attention to the matter of privacy. "It is critical for us, certainly. We can be very open with guests, and our level of intimacy varies among them. Our servants understand that we have complex lives and they know very well what their business is. And of course they are all quite capable of keeping us safe should something unpleasant arise."

    "So you need a theatre director who can properly handle mise of the local scene," Lauren carefully summarizes. "Am I understanding this? Or... did I seriously anger someone with my artistic decisions?" She asks, not looking around even in jest; here, one is guaranteed of safety.
    "Surely you have more than one lady in waiting? I'm sure Miriel is brilliant but you need an array," Lauren says, her arms on the table as she leans forward to talk business like only an Imp can talk business.
    "But then you have your Faces, like me. I make things look good, and so people assume I must be right. This laissez faire approach to achievement lacks character building, but I find it shortcuts through many layers of red tape."

    "Oh, we have various theater directors," says Tae. "Well, production directors. We have an impresario, as well. You would not believe his name if I told you. But I specifically would like to work with you to make some costumes for my performances. And if you have opinions on dance and choreography for my concerts, I would enjoy them. But please understand, I'm just looking to sing with a little dance. Nothing too fancy."

    "And certainly we have many servants. Miriel is the First Lady of the Bedchamber, but she is not the highest ranking of all servants. If you are interested in working for me, it would be helpful if I could understand what you would like to do. I do not want to give anyone a job that does not show them proper respect, grant them appropriate agency, and empower them to be joyful in the pursuit of their best self."

    Tae, clearly getting very comfortable in this conversation, enjoys her favorite pastime: teasing her wife. "Basically Elly just wants to spend money and let people make what they want. So long as it is beautiful."

    "Um... Deal," Lauren says, glancing between Tae and Elly as though this potato may very well be taken from her plate.
    "I can make you look fabulous, but," and here Lauren stumbles, a visual artist whose medium is not the written-- or spoken-- word. "And you need not fear ridiculous. I mean there's a time and place for drama-- the funeral of an enemy, just as an example-- but my first vision of you in costume was a spare backdrop. Warm silver glitter on your shoulders, and something simple that could be belted or changed depending upon how you wanted to move."
    Lauren pauses.
    "A drape-necked split cowl Ionic column dress," she says, snapping her fingers. "There it is."

    "Oh, I do like glitter, though I don't know if we have much handy. Hmm, is this yet another thing we have to recreate?" murmurs Tae. "I hope not. I really love glitter. Sparkling is fun, generally, especially under hot lights. Which is, admittedly, yet another thing we need to work on."

    Elly, being playful in turn, contradicts that assertion. With a wave of her fingers and has Tae under several spot lights, giving her a mix of blue and red light to bask in. "Who needs those silly things when you have me?"

    Tae looks at Elly, then turns back to Lauren. "See what I have to deal with, dear? She is always like this. The Baroness can handle the lights, yes." A wicked grin, "But unlike in other, spiritually significant ways, our dear priestess of the fertility goddess has no magical stamina. Low mana."

    "Tae, my love, that was hurtful!" protests Elly. Well, there is more protest, as Tae gasps and straightens rather awkwardly in her seat. Clearly something was communicated under the table.