George
*On Basil Island:*

"I have already made it clear to you, have I not? I haven't the slightest idea what will occur tonight at your auction, and I am not in a state to go searching. Leave me," The woman groaned, turning over in her bed so that her back was facing her inquirer, the sheets tossed about her haphazardly, her raven black hair similarly strewn.

Lord Uriel Python frowned, observing his wife with a tense gaze, equally annoyed and distressed at her response, but more so by her utter lack of sight. Morning had dawned a few hours ago, but the woman's room was still shrouded in darkness, the curtains closed tight save for the one a servant had opened when the lord had asked permission to enter.

"Perhaps you have not given it your best try, Marcelis," He offered, though not in the most convincing of ways.

Marcelis merely gave a drowsy, "Ha!" In response to his meager plea.

"Now you are being unreasonably sour," He said.

"Me? _Unreasonable?_ My head feels as if it has been dragged through all seven gates of God knows where, set ablaze by some dragon of ages not so kind, crushed by the weight of a million ... "

Uriel sighed as Marcelis continued her laundry list of figurative, outlandish complaints, rubbing his own forehead in exasperation.

"Right, right I understand, then," He groaned, folding his arms and glancing towards the one window that had been allowed open. "You are not ready to search, _now._ Though... Perhaps a peek at the new gown I bought you may lift your spirits?"

The woman ceased her monologue of despair almost immediately, but made no other move besides that.

Uriel smiled to himself.

"Or, I could take you out to sea? The fresh air has never failed you yet," He offered, a bit more hopeful this time around.

"I do like the sea..." Marcelis murmured. Though, in reluctance, she still did not move, only shifting slightly where she lay to pull her sheets and covers closer to her.

"If none of this satisfies you, I have also a letter. From Akno," Uriel said, holding up an envelope that he'd slowly withdrawn from his coat.

At this, Marcelis turned swiftly around, her once dreary look now focused and sharp, staring at the letter as she braced herself up on her elbow. Her lips were still pulled into a disgruntled frown, but she had at least risen from her sorry haven of pillows and blankets. Remaining still, she slowly blinked and opened her eyes to now stare at Uriel's face. He was usually a rather composed man, but his features betrayed the slightest amount of being smug and triumphant. For this, though, Marcelis would not settle. Not until she'd seen it.

"Give it to me," She demanded.

"Free of charge?" He asked, not budging.

"You are a fiend," She muttered.

"I am but a man who has a ship of slaves set to arrive tonight, with no idea how to make the most off of them," He countered, putting the letter back into his suit coat.

Marcelis's gaze was now a fierce glare. Still, though, she didn't move, simply staring and weighing her options. He was not a liar, after all. She'd seen the name and handwriting on the outside of the envelope, the seal also telling of its validity.

It was from Kieran.

Feeling her head begin to throb again, Marcelis coiled back up into her covers, sighing as she held her head in both hands.

"Fine. At least allow me an hour to try and become well again. In order to do so, I require my medicine and.. Music. A violin and cello shall suffice. And do make sure they are _actually_ tuned. Last night, it sounded as if I were listening to croaking frogs, rotting of some sorry disease that would steal a poor lad's soul in minutes, wailing and pleading ..."

"Yes, yes, it will all be done," Uriel said, wasting no more time in hearing Marcelis gripe with her outrageous tales, and turning on his heel to exit the room. The servant quickly shut the curtains tight again, making the room completely pitch black, once more.
Mike
The seas were steady, vast beyond the horizon that peaked behind the ship as it approached the shore, a lone passenger on the deck, with the exception of the sailors that hoisted and grunted and cursed without hesitance. Basil Island was close then, the boat settling on the docks, and she had a good few hours before her arrival at the estate of Lord Uriel Python, so she hoisted her small but heavy bags, sea salt sharpening the brisk air. Hopping of the ship easily, with stride in her step, she walked to the main town beyond the docks and hitched herself a ride on a carriage to the Python Estate. 

The ride there was more then quiet, almost silent but for the neigh of the horses and the scratch of the wheel against stone, bumpy and bucking but not bothering her much. Bold mahogany hair was tucked into a short ponytail, barely of any length and not past her shoulders, and amber eyes gleamed impatient as time slowly ticked away, until the estate rolled up and the carriage drew to a stop. Picking up her bags and her pouch, she gave the driver his fare and moved out, movements easy as this had been done a thousand times. 

Reaching the doors, she commanded her presence carefully, neither tense nor frivolously unguarded as the remembrance the stone walls should have granted her was considered. The lock was drawn and the guards inspected her appearance, picking her apart with her eyes before the mandatory questions arose. 

"Halt. What is your business within this manor?" The first asked, brusquely. Aurelia - or rather, Rouge, answered calmly. "I am to be the entertainment of the drawing event. Would you be so kind as to let me in?" Her voice was steadfast, although her words were sharper then their meaning. 

She drew her papers, signifying the truth in her words as they read requesting & fulfilling her arrival at the estate, and after a thorough confirmation she was allowed into the castle, lead to her own, comfortably sized room and allowed to unpack.
George
The ringfighter would hear three distinct knocks upon the door of her room a few minutes after arriving and having the chance to settle in. 

Before the door Marcelis stood, yawning and patting her lips, making her golden bangles jingle against one another. Believe it or not, she rather enjoyed the role of playing host. Their island provided a nice refuge for lords and ladies seeking a get away, and being able to help them in finding comfort excited her. After all, she'd never had so many acquaintances in her life. She enjoyed friends, in a similar way that she enjoyed the new gown Uriel had purchased for her, a deep emerald color made out of a soft velvet. Her black hair cascaded about her shoulders gently, and her eyes were, for the most part, kind and curious. 

When in public like this, so as to avoid putting on a show should her mind give her grief, she was always followed by a servant girl carrying a satchel about her shoulders. The girl's name was Ginger, telling of her red hair pulled back into a tight bun.

Uriel has tasked her with making sure the new arrival had found her way well, and to inquire if the fighter needed anything from them to make her performance that night extraordinary. They'd heard impressive things about this fighter, and had a unique line of opponents for her to face. Hopefully, the guests at the auction would be pleased by their choice. 

And hopefully, this choice would also make a vow of silence as to the events taking place in the manor tonight.
Mike
Rouge had just set her bags down, surveying the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she checked every nook and cranny, making sure the bedsheets were empty of anything else and the door could be locked sufficiently. Everything compared, so she finished up, knowing her mistrust came from good reason. 

Three knocks, polite and controlled, rang against her door and she moved to it, opening it up with a neutral look fixated on her tall figure. The woman at her door seemed gentle, for one thing, with hardly a figure to harm and eyes forebearing no ill intent. 

Moving her eyes further back, a servant girl with similar, but brighter hair to her own wore a satchel quietly, and she deemed them both non-threatening enough to relax in their presence. Not noticeably, of course, but her mind was not trained to watch their every move right now. 

"Hello," She greeted formally, allowing her amber eyes to warm slightly, as with her face. "You must be the lady of this fair estate," She guessed, by the finesse of her posture and the rich velvet of her dress. "I believe you are aware of who I am. What brings you to my newfound quarters?" She asked calmly. 

Clad in leather attire, except for the loose fabric of her cloak draped over her shoulders, finer then the other suit she wore, she leaned against the doorframe as she spoke, and let her arms rest at her sides as to appear less outwardly threatening.
George
Marcelis smiled, pleasantly surprised at how composed the fighter seemed. It had been a while since she'd spoken with someone who wasn't as stiff as a noble, but simultaneously, not as care-free as a commoner. 

She reached out her hand to the fighter, nodding gently.

"That I am. My name is Lady Marcelis Python. I am quite glad to welcome you into my home. Also, I wished to see how you'd fared on the sea. Lucky you are, what I would give to be on a boat right now. But, that is neither here nor there," The lady said, lifting her chin to glance behind the fighter.

_The room is still in tact, at least. This shouldn't be too hard, then._

"May I come in? Silly to ask for entrance into my own home, but, I would hate to intrude on the space you've been given," She said, hesitating and tilting her head. "Rouge, correct?"
Mike
Rouge had not hesitated a second, stretching her own hand out lightly and enclasping the lady's in a grip neither smooth nor rough; her hands were calloused, slightly, but not hard and unforgiving. 

*'She is young, younger then me,'* She mused silently, and she knew not what to make of it, but after a couple seconds her hand gently dropped the others and she retreated it back to her side. 

"Tis a pleasure on my part, milady. I have fared well on my travels, as the sea is bright and calm today." She returned, noting the slight wistfulness in Lady Marcelis's tone. "It is a beautiful place to be, I must agree. Unfortunately, we may only reside in today's world." 

Rouge stepped aside, back into the room, nodding her head slightly, a dark red wisp of hair lying loose against her temple. "Of course you may. And yes, my name is Rouge, as well as yours to address as you wish."
George
"I fancy you quite well, Rouge," Marcelis said as she brushed past Rouge, scanning the room thoughtfully with her chin gently cupped in her hand. "You are wise, and surely a force to be reckoned with in the ring. I would be a fool to ever challenge you. If you find the opponents we have prepared begin putting you to sleep, please do go easy on them. It is not their fault, after all. We are not brawling experts, Lord Uriel and I," Marcelis said, chuckling gently to herself.

She turned, smiling at Rouge. "We _are,_ however, involved in a rather... Important dealing tonight. Your presence here, though welcomed, threatens to jeopardize this auction, and I want to be sure that your stay will indeed be benign. Please, have a seat, Rouge."

Marcelis's smile remained, but her tone became slightly more serious. Ginger came to her side right away, watching Rouge just as carefully as the lady was.
Mike
"I am pleased you think so highly of me," She offered in return, closing the door behind her as so no one was to intrude on their privacy. "And I shall do my best to entertain you as much as possible, no matter the opponent faced," She replied, almost solemnly for a second. 

Rouge stood quietly for a second, before moving to sit promptly on a chair nearby, propping her hands into her lap and looking unfazed. "If I may, I understand your position. I shall make it priority to do as you ask; this is not my first of such deeds, and I am willing to prove my silence if need arise. Otherwise, I await your ideals for my visit patiently," She said clearly, calm but focused on the situation at hand. 

Rouge's face had turned more attentive, dropping the slight warmth it had adapted to showcase friendliness and awaiting Lady Marcelis's requests - although she knew much better then to think of them as requests. Should the event require anything of her secrecy, that would be no challenge to give.
George
"Lovely," Marcelis said, examining Rouge for a few more moments before folding her arms across her abdomen, relaxing slightly now that the door had been closed and it was just the two of them in the room. Well, save for Ginger.

"Tonight, my husband, sweet as he is, is engaging in a trade... That is not so pleasant. There will be a few dozen slaves to be auctioned off tonight, in our home, in which you will provide the entertainment we desire while they are being prepared for he stage. This trade, on its own, is ... Not particularly welcomed in Terresol, and word of it must not leave these grounds. Our visitors have agreed to a vow of silence, though you have not had the opportunity to. Whether you make this vow or not, allow myself to be clear," The lady said, taking a few strides towards the fighter.

"Should word of what is to occur tonight leave this part of the island, and should we trace the leak of this information to yourself, Uriel and I will see to it personally that no other opponent will have the sweet pleasure of facing against you. Ever, again," Marcelis finished, her smile completely stolen away at this point.
Mike
Rouge listened silently. The slave auction was not startling - in fact, it was sometimes commonplace at her events. She had learned only on not to care about them anyway- it would do her no good. 

As Lady Marcelis strode toward her, she remained unperturbed, knowing her threat was in every way real, although her emotions did not spike. Every risk was calculated, and she knew what she would do, because she cared not to have to evade another again in the same manner she had done before. 

"I understand," She said firmly, her gaze solid and unwavering - she understood the threat and the knowledge provided. "I shall take the vow of silence, and keep it." 

For a mere second, she toyed with the idea of letting it loose, and living on the run again. She was much more experienced now, but to outrun a those of wealth again, with them fully capable of sending out searches and getting people to do their bidding would also be much more difficult. The challenge was bittersweet, but she banished it from her mind. Playing her strings would only string her up in her own web, especially when only for the fun of it. Perhaps, another day, but not this time.
George
Suddenly, Marcelis's disposition completely changed. She beamed and brought her hands together, clasping them sweetly to her right cheek. Her mind wasn't giving her any inclinations that this fighter would prove to be a danger in the future. And given her careful searching this morning, without any warning signs about Rouge in sight, she was sure there was no reason to fret in the slightest. 

Besides, she rather liked the woman's company. So exotic and ... _serious._ It was fun, learning more about her. 

"Lovely!" The woman exclaimed, in a better mood than most times. She had a letter to look forward to, tonight, after all, and Uriel was rather fast on his promises. 

Marcelis waved her hand dismissively, and Ginger went over to a table near the wardrobe to pour the two of them a drink.

"Would you fancy some wine? I understand if you'd like your mind to stay sharp before your big Terresol debut. Or, is this not your first time near the kingdom?"

Marcelis inquired, setting herself down in a chair across from Rouge, sitting forward with interest not feigned.