Hiq-a-Ladeen tended the garden of her villa, located a few hour's ride outside the city, tucked into the foothills within a partially-overgrown vineyard. It was a modest estate in comparison to several others in the region, but what it lacked in opulence it more than made up for in privacy. The walled garden was surrounded by a colonnaded peristyle which blocked out all but the boldest of prying eyes, and the nearest neighbors were a good half mile up the winding road.
For a genasi, Hiq's skin was quite fair, so she wore a wide straw hat of the local style to shield her from the sun's rays when she was tending to her babies, looking for any signs of parasites or blight. In addition to the straw hat, she wore a loose white blouse, dark peasant's hose and thick-soled sandals, all quite plain in style but made of the finest materials. As she was crouched down inspecting a particularly fine red poppy, one of her guards politely cleared his throat from inside the main house.
"Yes, Damian?"
"Pardon the interruption, madam, but you have a visitor; the black coach."
"Excellent. Please offer our guest a washbasin to refresh himself, then see him into the study."
'Of course, madam."
Rising to her sandalled feet, Hiq muttered a few words in Parnathi and gestured vaguely over her body, and all the dirt and stains of the garden were magically wiped away. The mistress of the house then poked her head into the small kitchen adjacent to the peristyle and smiled at her maid and cook, Azila.
"Azila, can you brew some hibiscus tea and have it brought to the study with two cups and some honey?"
"Right away, mistress."
"Thank you."
Stepping into her study directly from the peristyle, she discretely slid the wooden panels to the garden closed before artfully draping herself over a chair to best effect to await the arrival of her benefactor.
"Without this playing with fantasy no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of the imagination is incalculable." - Carl Jung
The black coach stopped just outside the home of Hiq-a-Ladeen. Luca was glad to see that at least someone he gave such a gift to actually took care of what they were given (he silently cursed his fool of a son, who let the Chateau Vallaincourt fall into such disrepair). When the coach stopped, Luca stepped out. Rather than wearing his usual navy-blue, high-collared jacket and knee-high boots, he dressed in black, with a fake belly protruding. Atop his bald head he wore a long, gray wig that fell in curls over his shoulders. His usual monocle was tucked away for now, and a fake beard adorned his chin. He was no master of disguise, but a few people in his employ had provided him with the right combination of details so that anyone who saw him would be unlikely to recognize him. They'd be too distracted by the extra details to see who he truly was.
He entered through the foyer and upon being offered a washbasin used it to clean his hands and those parts of his face not covered in the false beard. Following the servants, he soon came to the study, where he found Hiq-a-Ladeen. Once they were alone in the room, he removed the wig and wiped the sweat from the top of his bald head. "Good morrow, my friend. I trust you have been well since last we spoke?"
Once her employer had entered the study, Hiq had risen to slide the wooden panels closed on the foyer side, offering her and her guest an element of privacy. True, a particularly bold servant or guard might attempt to eavesdrop, but a well-paid staff was a loyal one, and Luca assured that. The former courtesan also made sure to treat her staff well as a further insurance policy.
"I am quite well, sir, thank you; the weather's been fine and my garden flourishes. And you, how do you fare?"
There was a polite rapping on the garden side, and Hiq slid a single panel aside, blocking her maid's view of the guest with her body, before receiving a silver tray bearing a teapot, two china cups, a pair of silver spoons, a small silver pitcher of honey and a plate of stacked honeycakes. Hiq placed the tray on her desk and poured out two cups of red hibiscus tea, floral and tart.
"Without this playing with fantasy no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of the imagination is incalculable." - Carl Jung
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Hiq-a-Ladeen tended the garden of her villa, located a few hour's ride outside the city, tucked into the foothills within a partially-overgrown vineyard. It was a modest estate in comparison to several others in the region, but what it lacked in opulence it more than made up for in privacy. The walled garden was surrounded by a colonnaded peristyle which blocked out all but the boldest of prying eyes, and the nearest neighbors were a good half mile up the winding road.
For a genasi, Hiq's skin was quite fair, so she wore a wide straw hat of the local style to shield her from the sun's rays when she was tending to her babies, looking for any signs of parasites or blight. In addition to the straw hat, she wore a loose white blouse, dark peasant's hose and thick-soled sandals, all quite plain in style but made of the finest materials. As she was crouched down inspecting a particularly fine red poppy, one of her guards politely cleared his throat from inside the main house.
"Yes, Damian?"
"Pardon the interruption, madam, but you have a visitor; the black coach."
"Excellent. Please offer our guest a washbasin to refresh himself, then see him into the study."
'Of course, madam."
Rising to her sandalled feet, Hiq muttered a few words in Parnathi and gestured vaguely over her body, and all the dirt and stains of the garden were magically wiped away. The mistress of the house then poked her head into the small kitchen adjacent to the peristyle and smiled at her maid and cook, Azila.
"Azila, can you brew some hibiscus tea and have it brought to the study with two cups and some honey?"
"Right away, mistress."
"Thank you."
Stepping into her study directly from the peristyle, she discretely slid the wooden panels to the garden closed before artfully draping herself over a chair to best effect to await the arrival of her benefactor.
"Without this playing with fantasy no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of the imagination is incalculable." - Carl Jung
The black coach stopped just outside the home of Hiq-a-Ladeen. Luca was glad to see that at least someone he gave such a gift to actually took care of what they were given (he silently cursed his fool of a son, who let the Chateau Vallaincourt fall into such disrepair). When the coach stopped, Luca stepped out. Rather than wearing his usual navy-blue, high-collared jacket and knee-high boots, he dressed in black, with a fake belly protruding. Atop his bald head he wore a long, gray wig that fell in curls over his shoulders. His usual monocle was tucked away for now, and a fake beard adorned his chin. He was no master of disguise, but a few people in his employ had provided him with the right combination of details so that anyone who saw him would be unlikely to recognize him. They'd be too distracted by the extra details to see who he truly was.
He entered through the foyer and upon being offered a washbasin used it to clean his hands and those parts of his face not covered in the false beard. Following the servants, he soon came to the study, where he found Hiq-a-Ladeen. Once they were alone in the room, he removed the wig and wiped the sweat from the top of his bald head. "Good morrow, my friend. I trust you have been well since last we spoke?"
Once her employer had entered the study, Hiq had risen to slide the wooden panels closed on the foyer side, offering her and her guest an element of privacy. True, a particularly bold servant or guard might attempt to eavesdrop, but a well-paid staff was a loyal one, and Luca assured that. The former courtesan also made sure to treat her staff well as a further insurance policy.
"I am quite well, sir, thank you; the weather's been fine and my garden flourishes. And you, how do you fare?"
There was a polite rapping on the garden side, and Hiq slid a single panel aside, blocking her maid's view of the guest with her body, before receiving a silver tray bearing a teapot, two china cups, a pair of silver spoons, a small silver pitcher of honey and a plate of stacked honeycakes. Hiq placed the tray on her desk and poured out two cups of red hibiscus tea, floral and tart.
"Without this playing with fantasy no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of the imagination is incalculable." - Carl Jung