675-08-18 - Sisternado

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Sisternado
Summary: Lisabette Zorich vs Samuela Zorich.
Who: Lisabette Zorich, Samuela Zorich
References: re:Arif Sefu
When: 675-08-18
Related Logs: None
Date of RP: 2014-08-18
Where: House Zorich Suite - Royal Guest House, Isle of the Crown
Room Desc: The room is well-lit with a number of oil lamps or candles, each one perfumed to allow an intoxicating, delicate jasmine aroma to drift through the chambers. In addition, a finely crafted gilded golden chandelier hangs near the ceiling, the beautiful and elaborate scrollwork and crystals adding a sense of elegance to the room. This first small room of this suite contains a private seating area, furnished by a luxurious chaise and several armchairs surrounding a small table, To the right side of the room are two large bookcases and a large dark stained oak desk beside it, a mess of papers decorating its face. Windows let in light and air when not closed and covered by the thick curtains. There are several doors here that lead off here; double doors open to the personal bedroom of the Duchess, while other lead to the smaller rooms belonging to her personal guards and handmaidens.


Samuela stands next to the window, smiling, holding a bowl of fruits, tilted slightly towards the viewer. She is standing perfectly still, like a statue. Her handmaiden looks at her from a safe distance, slightly worried. The reason for all this is a mystery. Is it an illness? Is it a curse? Is it pre-marital madness? Is it the guy with pencils, brushes, and a palette who is sketching her figure on a canvas for the official portrait that is needed for her wedding? Probabyl the latter. But we'll never know for sure!

Enter the tornado. The door to the suite is flung open and Lisabette steps in, pausing in the doorway and turning her attention to an unseen guard in the hall, "Well. I am still alive. You can keep your job. I have no further use for you this evening." She shuts the door on his face and turns to the room;s other occupants, a slight shake of her head by what she sees. A small step is taken further into the room and she moves to stand beside the artist, her presence perhaps making him slightly uneasy, "Don't screw this up. It needs to be perfect. This wedding will go through without any issue, and I would hate for an ugly portrait to cause any problems." She then turns her attention to her statuesque sister and sighs noticably, "Can you look ugly just once. Well I mean do so after the wedding." She folds her hands behind her back and tilts her head to the side, "Smile sister...you are going to make a lovely bride."

Samuela instinctively filches backwards at the entrance of Lisabette. "...I'm sorry sister! I... I've been standing here all morning like this. Smiling is hard work... I might have accidentally relaxed." Suddenly agitated and utterly unsure of what to say, her eyes downwards and mutters, "...I'll try to look ugly, if that makes you happy. No guarrantees, though.", she says, apparently being serious about it. "NO! NO! Look here, look here!", complains the artist, his cheeks suddenly flushing red with irritation. To which Samuela replies with another instinctive springing back to EXACTLY the same position as before, down to the single drape and fold, only with a better smile this time, as requested. How does she even do that? "...there.", he finally grunts, and resumes sketching. "Do not worry, sister. This is the best artist in the kingdom. Master Fotosh Opp can make even the ugliest hag look like a goddess. There is no way this can go wrong." "You can bet whatever you want on it, Lady Samuela!", exclaims Fotosh in reply. In fact, the figure looks impressively solid, the guy has a good command of perspective. Looks like his craft is as good as his arrogance. Which is very good. "I'm not sure, however, " hesitates Samuela, "how good a bride I'll make... I mean, this is, after all, just state business..." she mutters mostly to herself, but then she realizes who's in the room, and hurries to add, "But I'll try my best to be as good as official etiquette demands!"

Lisabette rolls her eyes at the exchange of words and the reply given to her by both her sister and the artist, "Etiquette. A horse and pony-show if you ask me. Who made up all those silly expectations anyhow?" She shrugs and moves to pour herself a glass of wine, taking a small sip and speaking from over the rim, "I am well aware that your husband to be Sammy is not the prize stallion in the stable. He has his flaws like most men. He will more than likely be untrue to you, and treat you as little more to a tie to the Isles and its greatness." Another sip is taken and then she continues, "And you will be the charming little bitch you have always been; a smile here, a smile there. Dropping /thank you(s)/ like coins to the poor." She steps ovver to her sister, raising a hand to pause the sketching and sets her wine down.

"Just a moment. We need this portrait to accentuate that which she does not have." She then reaches into the bowl and takes two apples, stuffing them the front of her sister's dress where her breasts are. She steps back and looks closely, "Much better. Just paint those apples back into the bowl, I would hate for people to speculate why the bowl was so empty." She picks up her wine and another sip is taken, "You know Sammy...mother owuld be so proud of you. I mean if she had not decided to tap dance on a viper and all; and was still here."

Samuela is just too shocked to do anything. She just stands there, completely dumbfounded. How do you even reply to something like that? It's not every day that you have your lack of curvaciousness shoved in your face, receive a surprise impromptu implant, and while you're still reeling from that, the death of your mother shoved in your face. Well, okay, technically, if your name is Samuela Zorich, it is. But it also means you /still/ haven't gotten used to it, no matter how long this has been going on. She swallows. "...thank you?", she drops like a coin to the poor, while she adjusts her dress, then she breathes in, and pulls up the bowl of fruit now two items short. "...What is the status of the preparations for the ceremony?", she asks, seeing how the current line of inquiry is becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Preparations for the ceremony? Look at me Sammy. Do I look like someone who takes pleasure in planning a wedding? The flowers, the food, all the glorious beauty that will be flooding the sense of the invited?" She takes another sip of her wine and collapses into a chair in a most un-ladylike fashion, "I hired someone. Someone who enjoys all that sort of thing. Someone that mother owuld have approved of for doing such a thing. Wonderful man, who knows if he does anything less than stellar work he will not be a man any longer."

She dangles her slipper off the end of her foot and continues, "You will have everythinng you desire Sammy. Afterall, it is our Duchy that is truly on display. It will be a wedding that is spoken of for decades to come. Samuela Zorich and...you adoring husband....whose name escapes me, but truthfully, like I care." She sighs once more and rises from the seat, "Yes Sammy, food, gifts and dancing. It will be a wonderful event for you. I will even make sure it's viper free. WOuld hate to spend all that money and have nothing to show for it in the end no?"

She makes her way for the door and turns in the doorway, waving her fingers lightly as she does so, "Your right apple is sagging Sammy." And with that the tornado is gone, almost as swiftly as it came. Yet, not without a loud voice from the hall directed at the guard, "Outta my way..."