[The parchment is a lovely warm citrus shade, sealed with sunset wax impressed with a floral stamp. Within, the penmanship is near flawless with years of deliberate practice influencing the lovely curls of ink]
Monsieur Lamar Bellarose is seeking delightful and beautiful minstrel for his soirée happening in a fortnight, August 14th. His daughter recently turned thirteen and she has made vows of chastity until marriage before her family - a ceremony for which they are very proud and is apparently cause for celebration.
It appears as though his dear lady has dismissed a number of female entertainers of the evening out of spite. Please forgive my tardiness to this information, but it is our interest to attend this gathering. Alas, I am without an invite. I'm too pretty and elegant, I'm sure. I would make him look bad, even with him wearing a full mask adorned in emeralds and mine a lowly peacock half mask.
I anticipate a medium sized party, with Bellarose’s wife leading business discussions about, my best assumption, the brewing political storm. Recall Bellarose’s wife comes from a family of bankers.
Bellarose had a strong preference for green, and I would not be shocked if the decorations reflect such singleminded monotony. A gown of something in favor of the color like a summer tree and in matte so you do not outshine his socially shallow wife. Forgo the cleavage and ankles too. I suggest a neutral for your lips, but they could just as easily enjoy a red.
May your melodies entrance.
The Bellarose daughter was a peach. A prim and proper young lady, which was likely attributed more to her fine tutors, godfather, and grandparents than her true parents. She had an ear for music and grace despite her obvious teenage gangliness beneath the ruffled ivory and rouge skirt and sleeves. Laughter actually poured forth without his consciousness bidding it, because the girl loved to dance and she was exceptionally talented and long-winded at the sport.
As he’d promised, the decorations were emerald green at brighter, or light sapping at darkest. Paired with glittering gold-yellows to brighten the courtyard and dining room. Fine taste, a clean look, and it did not cheapen the appearance of the evening. The guests, like the Bellarose heiress, stood out in their finery.
Énna was a sparkle of black, turquoise, and emerald, accented in pearl-white. As he’d written, his peacock half-mask nestled over his nose, plumage and sparkle erupting from the crown. His coat, of socially acceptable length besides his elongated sleeves, was embroidered with floral likenesses bearing the emperor peacock colors. He was slim and proper, right to the shine of the buckles on his shoes.
A steep bow to his dancing counterpart for the better part of the last hour, Énna turned his gaze onto refreshments. A respite was called, allowing the minstrels to relax. Idly sharing comments with a Lord he’d only met that night, Énna inconspicuously wandered a path to the entertainment. Praising those he was closest to, he made his way to the elven woman he was most interested in speaking with. He picked up an additional goblet. “Mademoiselle,”
he addressed, rose-tinted lips conducting the syllables naturally. “Your musical talent is flawless, and you have played at the child’s behest for better part of the evening.”
Énna extended a golden goblet toward The Chariot. Dark eyes roamed the surface of her dress. She looked like a little tree, matching the decor. “A glass. For your refreshment.”
Énna leaned close to her, entering the perfect distance to whisper secrets. Or posture flirtatious advances. “Did Lamar like your dress?”