BeautifulBlondes

From IMiA

After dinner in the gardens, the duchess is aglow. Things must either be going well for her cause, or she's just happy that dinner went off fairly uneventfully, and that no miniature hot air balloons caught fire.

Juliana has linked arms with Phoebe and stolen her away from her conversation. They're approaching the tall, handsome, dark haired man Phoebe has doubtless realized is Prince Eric of Amber, and the blonde woman he came in with.

"I want you to meet an old friend of mine, and we shall taunt him with our youth and blonde hair. We shall taunt him respectfully, though," Juliana adds quietly to Phoebe.

"Very well, your Grace," says Phoebe demurely, but her dark eyes are alight with mischief.

The miniature hot-air balloons have definitely caught the attention of Prince Eric's junior officer. Bright grey eyes are peering up between the tree branches and from the woman's gestures, it's uncertain whether she's more fond of the engineering feat or the potential for a pyroclasm.

   She is dressed in the formal black-and-reds of the Gottswache,

Eric's Weir guard. A black 'captain's coat' drapes over her shoulders and cinches at her waist, its small folded back cuffs and full lapels are lined with red piping. Epaulets of intricate silver brocade on the shoulders of her jacket proclaim her as a Leutnant.

   Black boots, so highly polished as to reflect the softest light

hug her calves to just over her knees. Crimson leggings lead upward to end in a matching crimson vest that fits Arryl's robust figure perfectly. The grey laced cravat beneath her chin only serves to heighten the pinkness of her cheeks and the glimmer in her grey eyes. Her hair is so blonde as to almost be white and tied back into a neat military bun.

   At the Leutnant's side hangs a perfectly functional dress sabre

with a fine silver basket swept hilt. The scabbard is brightly polished black, capped and hung by with well-cared for silver.

   Despite the clean sleek lines of the Leutnant, there is something

to her posture that proclaims her as a rake.

Phoebe is intrigued by the balloons too as she walks towards them with the Duchess, and glances from them to the two people they are approaching several times, as those she finds them as fascinating as the display.

Phoebe has a certain ethereal loveliness, with her golden curls and a look a fragility, but her eyes are unusually dark and possess a candour and directness that is almost as striking as her prettiness (Casting Emilia Fox). She is wearing a long straight dress of pale blue silk, simply but artfully fashioned (by Worth, no less), and highly suitable for a young lady making her come out, with the neckline verging on the modest. Her hair is fressed in a top knot high on her head, decorated with intricately woven tiny and delicate flowers that match the colour of her dress - although some seem to have become a little dislodged. Her eyes are as bright as though lit from within by stars, and she looks at the Prince and his officer with the most eager anticipation, perhaps a little startled by Arryl's masculinist garb.

As they approach Juliana smiles at Arryl, who can probably tell the smile she next gives Eric is mischievous. The duchess doesn't do many mischievous smiles.

At the Duchess' approach, Arryl stops her animated conversation with the Prince with a smile and a nod to Juliana.

Phoebe, after another fascinated glance at Arryl ("Leggings!" she is clearly thinking. "But she's a lady!"), sinks into a deep and perfectly proper formal curtsey as she waits for an introduction.

Eric for his part is painfully handsome in his black and crimson. He gives he ladies a brilliant smile as they approach.

Juliana actually pulls a bow - the dress just isn't made for curtseying. It's not really made for bowing either, but the top is nice and snug, and possibly taped in place, as her clevage maintains it's perfect presentation. She comes up grinning. "Your highness, allow me to present to you the lovely Miss Phoebe Frewin, who is in town from Begma for... perhaps Carnival? Longer? Miss Frewin, I have the honor of introducing Prince Eric."

Eric takes Phoebe's hand and kisses it. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintence, Miss Frewin." nodding to Arryl, he adds. "This is my Leutnant. Arryl der Gottswache."

Phoebe's eyes are quite round with surprise, as she holds out a slender white hand to Arryl. "How do you do," she says, with a bob of a curtsey. Clearly, she is restraining herself from asking questions with the greatest of difficulty.

Arryl bows slightly to Phoebe with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. The Weir obviously knows and is very comfortable with the kind of figure she strikes when in full uniform. "Fraulein Frewin, welcome to Amber. I hope you are enchoying your stay."

Juliana just has a smile for everyone, content to let Phoebe talk.

"Oh yes, =utterly=," Phoebe assures her, with another glance at the Lieutenant's costume. "Erm ... are you ... erm ... a lady soldier?"

"Jawohl Fraulein," answers Arryl heartily. "I haf die great honor to serve in der Prinz's Gottswache, die Weir guard." A happy and proud smile lights the Leutnant's face.

    "But... as I'm sure bot' der Herzogin und der Prinz can attest,

I'm afraid d'at my qualifications a 'lady' are a bit... less honorable." She adds with a wink and a grin.

Phoebe has listened to this wide eyed.

"But ... Weir guard ... does that mean you're ... " She breaks off in consternation, colour flooding her cheeks. "Oh - I am sorry!" she goes on apologetically. "I don't know if it's not considered the done thing to mention it, or anything. But I've never met a Weir before. Although ... I've read ... "

She is gazing at Arryl with fascination. Clearly, for the young Begman, meeting a Weir trumps minature hot air balloons and even Amberite Princes of the Blood. But then she recollects herself and directs a shy, apologetic smile up at the tall Prince.

Prince Eric rewards Phoebe with a dazzling smile.

Phoebe blinks, suitably dazzled.

"Do you know," she confides, "I do think this is proving to be the most absolutely =thrilling= night of my life. Even more thrilling than when Prince Gerard's fleet sailed into the harbour at Begma and we sneaked out and climbed onto the roof of the convent to watch and Matilda Gorblenken slid off and was hanging from the guttering and we had to rescue her. Only that was thrilling in a rather alarming way, of course, and was followed by the most tremendous row. Only this isn't alarming ... "

Her fascinated eye falls once more on the tall and dashing Weir. "Well," she concedes. "Probably not."

Eric chuckles.

As does Arryl. "Danke for der compliment, Fraulein. D'ough rescuing a kinder who ist dangling from a gutter sounds like good fun as well." The Leutnant adds with a judicious nod and a twinkle in her eye. Ah, younger days.

   "Und do not worry about 'mentioning' my species.  I, for one, am

quite proud auf being Weir. After all, die Weir are definitely die finest auf all auf Amber port's many species." She grins again as her eyes slide to Eric and Juliana. "Present company excepted, auf course."

"Oh, no need for that darling. It's like comparing blonde's to the more dark-headed sort. There's really no point," Juliana grins.

"Do you think," asks Phoebe hopefully, "that you could tell me =all= about it? You see, we only ever hear the =strangest= stories back at home - such as that you only change at the full of the moon and, when one thinks about it, that would be awfully inconvenient, wouldn't it? I mean, so utterly predictable. Enemies could plan for it, and all that. You know - 'I say, old chaps, full moon tonight - so we'll attack next week instead!' Only I imagine that you would be jolly formidable, whatever your form." The look she gives Arryl is one of deep admiration.

"Danke, Fraulien. I'd be happy to tell you all about it. D'ough der Prinz ist already *well* aware auf die Weir's strent's und weaknesses." She chuckles, as she gives a wink to Juliana.

Juliana looks at Arryl shrewdly and it's not hard to guess she's trying to remember the moon's cycle on the night of Arbor House.

Then Phoebe seems to realise that this is perhaps not the time and place, for Eric too is treated to the warmth of her smile.

"I am =terribly- sorry," she apologises. "Only I am sure you must see the =bliss= of meeting someone who is virtually a =legend=. Of course," she adds fairmindedly, "you are a legend too, which is making this evening so =thrilling=. But you won't suddenly change into quite a different form, you see. Or ... erm ... will you?" She regards Eric with a certain hopeful fascination, as thgough he might produce another form on the spot.

Eric chuckles again. "No, I will not change, Miss Frewin. For good or ill, I am as you see me." Juliana and Arryl know Eric well enough to know that he is finding this conversation quite amusing and pleasant indeed.

"I'm sure it is for good," Phoebe begins politely ...

"If you keep telling him he's a legend his head might just expand though," Juliana teases, meeting Eric's eyes, "And that would be sad, sad indeed."

Ah, yes. Wonderful schopps being served at this party. Arryl finds her drink suddenly very interesting. Though the tilt of her glass cannot hide the twinkle in her eyes.

Phoebe's cheeks are stainmed with a faint blush. "Oh, I =am= sorry if I've been rude!" she tells the Prince apologerically. "I really didn't mean to be ... You will forgive me, won't you?"

Eric smiles at the girl. "Certainly. If you do anything that requires forgiveness, Miss Frewin."

"I'm the one he'll be needing to forgive, if I ever get around to asking. Leutnant, are you free from sin or may we add you to the list of penitents?" Juliana asks, still smiling. She very much seems to be enjoying herself.

"Ah, your Grace. My list auf sins ist long, illustrious und ongoing." The Weir grins outrageously to Juliana.

   "Were der Prinz required to forgive me on a per-sin basis, I'm

afraid d'at he would suffer most terribly from die weakness auf der voice. D'erefore, like any good soldat, I do not seek forgiveness. But instead, content myself to serve die extra KP duty mitaut complaint." Arryl takes another sip of her schnopps. "Mitaut *much* complaint." She amends with a wink.

Phoebe is watching all this banter with surprise as well as enjoyment. It is clear that the idea of teasing royalty in this way has never been a possibility to the young Begman, and she is fascinated to watch the demeanour of the two women who obviously know the Prince well.

"Well, if only there were such a think as KP duty for noblewomen. That has something to do with food, does it not?" Juliana asks. From her smile, she might be joking - or she might be asking a serious question.

"Jawohl, your Grace. If one considers potatoes food." The Weir mock-shudders. "Der Holle d'at waits for me ist surely filled mit tubers und one dull peeler." Arryl chuckles as she takes another sip of her schnopps.

Phoebe is listening to this, startled. "You're a soldier, a =weir=, and they make you peel vegetables?" Her indignation is palpable. "Is it because you're a female? I bet you could fight as well as any man!"

Eric observes the conversation in silent amusement,curious to see how Arryl will respond.

"Manchmal. Depending on der man und der fight." Arry nods. "But, surely die Fraulein understands der need for discipline in a military unit. Und Weir? We haf proven notoriously hard to discipline." She grins and winks at Eric.

   "D'at ist why die Weir form d'ere own units.  Der 'd'ey' in der

case auf assigning potato-peeling duty would be my own Obersten und Hauptmannes, Weir all, who know how to keep d'eir troops in line. Even die more rowdy Frauen." She grins again.

"Goodness," says Phoebe, a little faintly. "Even Sister Devine Retribution never threatened us with potato peeling for the school - but yes, I can see that it would be jolly effective as a punishment."

Her glance at Arryl shows renewed respect for one who has bore such an imposition bravely.

Juliana grins. "Devine Retribution. Must they give up their names when they become nuns? Do they make up these excellent names for themselves?"

"I think they are given them," says Phoebe. "They are seen as the virtues they should aspire to. Only it doesn't always work. Sister Divine Retribution did have a terrific temper, which was really rather appropriate - but Sister Modest Endeavour was terribly vain. She carried soooo much for the proper set of her wimple that she was even late to Refectory once. Now, if it had been one of us, we'd have been made to eat standing, and probably bread and water and nothing more ... but of course, Sister Frugality let her sit down and tuck into the roast goose.

"And there," she adds feelingly, "is another mis-named nun."

Arryl chuckles. "Were d'ere any appropriately named nuns, d'en? Sister Sobriety, perhaps? Or Sister Speaks in a Quiet Voice?" The Weir is teasing, but only a little. And most likely thinking of aspired to virtues that she could have been saddled with as names.

"Sister Silent Serenity, or Sister Fierce Devotion, or Sister Finish What She Started..." Juliana laughs.

"I think," says Phoebe, with mischief in her eyes, "that you may be thinking of the names that you would take on if you found yourselves in the Convent!"

She smiles up at Eric. "There are the Brothers of the Unicorn too, in Begma," she points out. "Althought they just tend to be called Brother and-then-their-ordinary-names."

Eric smiles. I had, in fact, just been pondering what my brothers and sisters could be called. However, as there are ladies present, I shall refrain from specualting aloud."

Arryl's snort of dark laughter is neither sober nor quiet, thus proving her and Phoebe's point.

"That's probably for the best, Father Think Good Thoughts," Juliana laughs. "I do feel bad for the men that they don't get such interesting names to live up to!"

Phoebe merely looks more than usually demure. Perhaps her lips are pressed a little too firmly together though, as she tries to suppress her own laughter.

-- Main.LizTrumitch - 08 Apr 2005