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The setting sun is sinking just below the horizon, and so a man in Zahir livery is running from torch to torch and lamp to lamp lighting up the square of Fanghill to avoid leaving its people in the dark. The square itself is very quiet, and those going about on business do so with quick steps and their heads down.
Despite the pervasive 'doom and gloom' atmosphere of the township, Voreyn Zahir seems to be quite at home standing near the entrance to the local mercantile. She is talking with a Freelander dressed in dusty, dirty leather pants and a tunic, and he clutches several rolls of paper - possibly blueprints - in his right hand. "Yes, Your Grace, there is room behind the kitchen to expand the gardens back, but tomorrow will ye be meetin' with me landscaper fer proper layout design?"
"Of course," Voreyn replies coolly, glancing up toward the darkening sky and drawing her cloak around her prematurely to ward off the chill of evening. "I think I should still be here for at least another five days, so send him to the inn and we settle the final design. How about the library? I requested another wall of shelving to be added to the south end."
"If I knew no better, I would think that woman takes me for a ninny," Sorani quips softly to the slightly younger adolescent hovering near her elbow as they appear dimly lit interior of a nearby building. Pausing beneath the hanging sign over top the door's frame, the young noblewoman takes stock of herself and carefully smooths the irritation from her fair face. Slim fingers brush at nonexistent wrinkles in the silken material snugly fitted to her hips. "Or perhaps she is merely trying to make a little extra, m'lady," the maid mutters quietly, biting at her lower lip.
At the maid's comment, Sorani's storm gray eyes fasten upon the girl's petite frame with an indecipherable intensity. "Considering the appearance of the woman, I do not think her the type to go hungry," the taller, more statuesque noblewoman replies calmly. Shaking her head faintly, her gaze shifts from the mere slip of a girl and scans the area as her eyes adjust the failing light of early evening. The tension in her posture perfect frame is detectable only by the slight stiffening of her shoulders.
"Now, then, what do you think the Duchess is doing here," Sorani murmurs softly, more to herself than the youth lingering nearby. All too aware of her close proximity to the superior Zahir noble, she stifles a soft sigh.
"The south wall? Your Grace, the prints stated the west wall for the new set of shelves. We've already had them measured and cut to fit, and the south wall is longer--we'd have to start all over," the Freelander replies to Voreyn, face turning an apopletic shade of purple as he realizes that his crew has yet again screwed something up. He almost trembles with the commingled fear and anger, and he works his upper lip between his teeth as if about to chew it off in his rage. "But, I will inform my men, of course, that there is a change in plans." His tone slips from irate and into forlorn as he nearly crushes the rolls of paper in his meaty fist.
Meanwhile, Voreyn is looking a bit tight-lipped herself, and her bosom practically heaves with her deep breaths meant to for restraint. Her attention drifts away from the construction worker, gliding about listlessly until a flicker of motion catches her attention. That imperious gaze sweeps to the left, pinning itself to Sorani as the young lady appears in the flame-lit twilight. The wrinkles of tension in the Duchess's face ease into a smooth, alabaster complexion as she studies the young noblewoman with obvious curiosity.
"No," she barks suddenly to the Freelander, tearing her gaze away from Sorani long enough to frown at the man with impatience. "No, just leave it on the west wall with breaks for tall windows. The afternoon sun can light the desk if we put it on the eastern wall, and that will save a pretty Imperial in candles. Now leave me, and do try to teach your men how to read a blueprint. Another large mistake like this and I will take my business elsewhere. Good eve, Light bless. Go."
Despite the overwhelming desire to eavesdrop, and she does attempt to listen in, Sorani only gleans a few choice words. The frustration of the situation, however, is kept from her carefully constructed facade of serene self-control. Watching the Duchess Voreyn speak with the Freelander, Sorani is careful not too stare too hard until the man is brusquely dismissed from the woman's presence. And by the looks of his quick gait, he seemed as eager to be away as she to be rid of him. "Duchess Voreyn," Sorani says crisply once she closes the few yards between she and the still poised woman.
Her maid quickly scurries after her, bobbing a deep curtsey before Voreyn while purposefully avoiding looking anywhere other than the woman's feet. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your sudden and rather unexpected presence?" Even as she inquires, inclining her head to the woman's superiority, Sorani offers a subtle glance over Voreyn with her rakish gray eyes.
Voreyn watches the Freelander scurry away with his figurative 'tail' tucked between his legs, and she narrows her eyes thoughtfully. She is lingering outside with her cloak swaying in the gentle breeze in this exact position as Sorani approaches. At the scuffing sound of steps in her direction, the Duchess turns her attention back to the two women lazily, and one thin eyebrow arches upward in polite curiosity. It isn't until the question is posed to her that her firm, stormy expression returns, and she leans forward a bit to study Sorani.
"Are you Zolor's new yappy watchdog?" she inquires in a sharp tone, squinting at Sorani and giving the woman a once-over from head to toe. "Scrawny. I would expect him to feed you as much as his other pointers."
To her credit, the young woman maintains a relatively neutral expression. The very slight flare of her nostrils is the only indication, brief as it is, that she is less than pleased with Voreyn's remarks. The maid, now more than ever, stares at her toes with admirable dedication. "I serve House Zahir, Duchess Voreyn," Sorani says neutrally enough after a moment of the intense studying of her person. She neither quakes nor quails under Voreyn's gaze, but neither does she test her position. Sorani's own eyes flit over the other woman's form, quick and efficient in sizing her up without drawing excessive notice of her stare. "In all matters."
"Of course you do," Voreyn replies calmly, shrugging her cloak back from her shoulders and clasping her hands together in front of her. "Well, you can tell Zolor he needn't stoop to offer his Duchess rooms in his keep. Light knows that he would have, had he realized I were lingering in Fanghill. But he keeps his own quarters so damp and chill that even I - in the prime of my health - fear the rheumatism that would result." She sniffs lightly, lifting her chin a slight but noticeable degree, and gazes down the bridge of her nose at Sorani. "Business keeps me traveling in and out of Fanghill as it is. When the renovations on my keep are completed, perhaps I will resume the role of being a thorn his backside. Have you got this all, now? It hasn't slipped out of your ears, has it? You may report it to him verbatim. What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't," she states smoothly, but knowing it is perhaps a hair too forward, Sorani clears her throat softly. "I am Sorani Zahir, Duchess, and I assure you that my intent was less in spying on you and more my desire to seek a new shade of silk." The woman pauses, arching one very dark brown brow and the merest hint of a half-smile tugs at the corners of her mouth wryly. "But, I will be certain to let Lord Zolor know how little you think of his accomodations. I am sure it is the news he has been waiting hours upon hours on end to hear from myself."
Voreyn Zahir allows the silence to linger for a minute or two after Sorani's last statement, and instead her gaze rolls up--and up until she is staring at the darkening sky from beneath the frame of her eyelashes. Her posture remains the same, her expression remains blank, but her breathing deepens noticeably as she quells rising tides of irritation. "Well, it seems I have assumed wrongly about your duties," she replies after a moment of silence, letting her gaze drop to eye-level once more. Her lips quirk upward at the corners with a polite semi-smile, and she reaches with her fingers to pull her cloak around her body once more. "I thought perhaps by your greeting that you came to me with some degree of authority and personal merit, but I stand corrected. I do beg pardon for assigning to you a duty that is most obviously not yours. Do not let me interrupt your shopping, Lady Zahir; it would be a deplorable state of affairs to show up to the next ball in outdated attire."
The insult is not missed, and the young woman's excellent posture stiffens noticeably beneath the cream and plum colored silk snugly fitted to her frame. Her storm gray eyes darken and the fair coloration of her face pales almost imperceptibly at the tightly controlled anger lingering beneath the facade of her indifferent expression. "On the contrary," Sorani remarks coolly, words enunciated most carefully. "My duty is to appear as if I've none. It would seem that I have succeeded if I have convinced even you."
"Of course, my Lady, and I stand corrected forevermore on any fact as it regards you," Voreyn replies quietly, and this time with a little laugh to accompany the possibly private jest. She reaches up with the edge of her cloak to dab at the corners of her eyes, still smiling at Sorani with an almost /fond/ expression. "If you ever find yourself growing tired of pretending to not have any duties to occupy your time when apparently you do - that is to say, the duty of pretending to not have a duty - right? Oh bugger it!" She pauses, laughing once more in genuine mirth and pressing her hand to her chest in a poor attempt at self-restraint. "I apologize. Let me try this again: should you ever be bored with whatever it is that occupies your time - shopping, spying, cleaning the stables, whatever - feel free to stop by Eventide Keep. If I am not present, leave your name with my chamberlain and he will see that I know as soon as possible of your arrival. Otherwise, I shall bid you Light keep you, Lady Sorani, and hurry home before the darkness is full set. I fear your little maid is poor protection from true ruffians."
At the woman's laughter, however unassuming it sounds to her ears, Sorani relaxes enough that slight color returns to the pallor of her face. Truth be told, the intrigue of the arrangement is enough to pique her curiosity quite notably, and her gray eyes, still fixed upon the Duchess's figure, are ripe with interest. "The Eventide Keep, is it?" She is ever so careful to conceal a majority of her intense curiosity from her voice, polite and too casual. Sorani's eyes slip away from Voreyn, studying in passing the timid youth still loitering by her side. "I suspect it is I that would protect her," the young noblewoman remarks with a half-hearted sigh. "And I am fearfully short a sword and shield."
Voreyn is set to turn and depart, but Sorani's comments stay her movements. She turns back to the girl and frowns, obviously unhappy with the prospect of two young ladies wandering around on the dark roads alone - House guard or no. "Then here," she answers, fishing a small pouch of Imperials from her pocket and holding them out to Sorani. "I've a man at the tavern, most likely at the bar charming the wenches. His name is Robert, and his tunic bears the sigial of House Zahir. The coins are to pay off his drinks if he's stretched himself too thin, but nevermind how he's pounded back; he'll be good to you and your maid, and see you home safe. Send him to my quarters when he has seen you safe to your home, please, my Lady - and do not even think to say no. That would be quite foolish, and I do not suspect you are a foolish girl."
"I live to serve," the young noblewoman says dryly, and it's quite difficult to discern just how serious or humorous she is attempting to be. Though she smiles, the smile never reaches those cool gray eyes of her's, and she accepts the imperials with a slight twist of her lips. "Be that as it may, my Lady Duchess, I appreciate your generosity if only so I might steal a moment of your company soon enough." Sorani's gaze shifts from the imposing woman to the maid, still preoccupied counting her toes. Noticing, finally, the weighty gaze resting upon her, the youth glances up and blushes slightly. "T-thank you, my Lady." Nodding curtly to the girl, Sorani inclines her head. "And so be it that my virtue remains intact. Be well, Duchess, until I see you, again," the noblewoman observes neutrally, but a glint of humor shines in those darkly luminous eyes of hers.