u_can_have_it_4_a_song | A Night to Remember [for bornstrong]

A Night to Remember [for bornstrong]

Schön had been busy since parting with Princess Iphigenia, sifting the Nexus for an evening of experiences worthy of the lady. Looking himself over in the mirror, straightening his white tie, he has to admit that the only thing he has left to do is hope. Donning his hat and taking up his cane (tonight, the silver head resembles a cluster of grapes), he takes up Iphi's bouquet before setting out: a spray of luminous night-blooming orchids that glow from within with a soft, rosy light.

Thus does he stride out into the Nexus, seeking the charming lady to whom he's promised a night of adventure.

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And Iphigenia herself has been busy, choosing the proper outfit to wear for the evening. She's settled on a dark blue dress--something pretty, but not too dressy or upscale. The princess has done her hair as well, into a crown braid that flatters her well.

She can be found waiting for Schön by a little fountain that she's discovered in the commercial district.

"Good evening, your highness," he greets her with a bow. "Ah, the stars are twice as bright tonight, for they burn in envy of your radiance. I hope I've not kept you waiting long?"

Well, those words are making her blush.

"Oh, no, not at all," she insists, smiling kindly at him. "And really, please don't feel you have to bow. I'm not as much royalty here as I was back home, truthfully."

Although secretly, she appreciates the gesture.

His smile grows, seeing her cheeks redden with something other than the weather. "You are noble in your heart, dear lady, the only place that counts." Offering the bouquet of luminous orchids, he adds, "these are for you; they reminded me of you, when I first found them, but taken side by side I can see the delights they bring to the senses are but a pale echo of your own."

He knows all sorts of gestures.

She gasps softly as he hands her the flowers, touched by the gesture.

"They're lovely," Iphigenia says. "Thank you so much."

Has no one given her flowers before? Iphigenia, you have been robbed. Fortunately, you're in the company of someone perilously fond of balancing old accounts and indulging in sybaritic delights. What better guide could there be?

"You're quite welcome." He's practically purring again, savoring her reaction for a moment before he offers his arm. "I believe I've arranged something you'll enjoy. Dinner and a show, as it were, with the promise of exotic cuisine. Shall we?"

Oh, sure, she's gotten flowers, but certainly not from someone as intriguing as him. Iphigenia's sort of mesmerized by Schön, truthfully.

She smiles again and takes his arm.

"Yes, please," the princess replies. "I can hardly wait."

"I'd better walk swiftly, then," he quips, his hand moving to cover hers on his arm--a light touch, warm and encouraging, as he guides her through the labyrinthine tangle of the Nexus. If they pass an actual minotaur trying to figure out a street sign, he could hardly have arranged it. But their winding course leads eventually to a building in the residential district, and up several flights of stairs within, to a high-ceilinged flat with rich red walls densely covered in small framed sketches of flowers or songbirds.

The furniture is plush, and a tall set of windows overlook the Nexus. Before the windows stands an odd sort of table, a man in white with a tall hat behind it, a pair of high chairs before it. The tabletop nearest them seems to be wood, while the side nearer the chef appears to be metal.

Iphigenia will keep quiet throughout their walk, simply smiling and doing a little bit of people-watching on the way.

When they get to their destination, she'll look at him, raising an eyebrow. She's impressed by the setup--it looks intriguing to her, and Iphigenia's already curious about what the night may have in store.

"This is already very nice," she says quietly to Schön. "What is this place, if I may ask?"

"Normally," he answers, "it's an apartment in a building I own, with a pleasant decor and a particularly nice view. Tonight, however, it is our own private restaurant. Would you care to sit, or look about first?"

"I want to look around," she says, sounding very certain about her answer. "It looks very comfortable here. May I see more of it?"

"As much as you like," he promises. "This is, of course, the living room, and there are also a kitchen, bedroom, and bath. Please, explore to your heart's content, and I shall be your happy guide." A glance aside to the chef gets an understanding nod. Dinner waits on them, not the other way 'round.

"You'll take me on a tour?" she asks, teasing him a little. "Very gentlemanly of you."

"If you like," he replies, his grin irrepressible. "Might I draw your attention to the art? A young gentleman I knew, a budding naturalist, sought to study and record every sort of wild-growing flower and every species of songbird in his homeland. These are some of his practice sketches."

"Oh," she says, sounding impressed. "That's lovely. It's very beautiful."

Iphigenia grins back at him, a bit cheekily.

"I'm having a nice time already."

And she really is. No lie!

"I'm delighted to hear it. Art is a passion of mine, and I'm always pleased to share the company of someone else who enjoys it."

He'll escort her around the room, pointing out a sketch of this bird or that flower, of which he's particularly fond, gradually working their way around to the kitchen--where wait marble countertops and shiny new appliances, white cabinets up on the walls and deep wood tones for the cabinets under the counter.

"I've always been one to admire artistic endeavors," she replies as they walk into the kitchen.

"Oh! Again, very nice." She's fond of the marble. "Excellent taste."

"A mark of good taste," he opines. "Is there a style or genre you favor?"

The kitchen isn't large, and is divided from the living room on one side with a split-level island of countertop--lower on the kitchen side for workspace and a sink, raised on the living room side to accommodate a trio of stool seats and possible place settings. It would seem this kitchen was made with small-group entertaining in mind.

"I--don't know, truthfully," she admits, a tad bashful. "But I like how everything is arranged here. That's all I can say."

She is getting a little hungry, but wants to explore more. Decisions!

"Ah, that's the very beating heart of good taste, knowing what you like. I've seen whole galleries of fashionable creatures standing paralyzed by a glimpse of something new, waiting for someone to tell them what to think of it." He tsks scornfully.

"On with the tour? Or shall we put a pin in it until after dinner?" It's your night, Iphi--savor that sweet agency.

Sweet, sweet agency. And it doesn't even involve her making horrible, life-changing decisions! Excellent.

"Oh, let's eat now--if you don't mind," she says. "I can't wait to see what we're having."

She grins.

"I'm sure it's something wonderful."

"My dear lady," he purrs, "you are in for a treat." Drawing her back toward the odd table and the chef both standing in the living room, he explains: "what you shall see tonight was born of two great cultures beginning to reconcile in the wake of a great war--some of the flavors and methods of each, refined and elevated beyond mere sustenance and into the realm of art."

He pulls out a chair for her at the table, much of which is a hot plate of iron. Having seen their approach, the chef has already balanced three eggs on the hot iron, one atop another. Once they're seated, he smiles, bows, and begins drumming with and juggling his implements. Iphi is in for all manner of delicious entertainment.

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A Night to Remember [for bornstrong]

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