The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[NPCs]

"You would no--" 

Zevran steps back into place, just behind and to the side of his wife, as he absently coils the rope around his wrist. He doesn't hesitate or even deem to notice the smear of sticky wetness on it, instead just murmuring, "as my Lady commanded."

Not that anyone but Coquette could hear over the sound of the woman screaming through what's left of her lower jaw or the shouts of alarm and challenge coming from more than a handful of other guests. Or their attendants-- clearly combat capable, every one of them, at least to some degree-- go on alert. Blades appear, reagents are taken to hand and one youth's hands transform into the padded claws of a feline.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Noire raises a hand, signaling very clearly for Zevran to stand down. "That will be all, male." 

[NPCs]

Zevran bows deeply, taking another step back. He keeps his eyes down, his body loose and his posture exact; but the blood smeared rope still hangs from his wrist. Another drow, a woman, darts forward after a few tense seconds to pull the wounded away from Coquette. 

"Not just a lover, clearly," Feythal remarks without looking up from her dessert of fruit stuffed mushrooms. "Your grandfather would approve."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I did say lover and bodyguard, did I not?" she asks, innocently. "I meant to, if I did fail to mention it."

[NPCs]

Grace, the only merikos daughter of Feythal, laughs softly, the sound carrying across the room despite the delicacy of it. "So you have, niece, but there are body-guards and then there are those that can turn someone's jaw to splinters and gore with a length of hemp. After all, I strongly doubt the little Tevaidas there bothered to enchant the rope, mmh?"

"Or could afford it," someone else calls from the safety of the crowd, earning a few dark chuckles and giggles.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Well of course. After all, why should I settle for less than the best protection I can find?"

[NPCs]

There's a general, appreciative murmur around the room at the sentiment, then a tastefully polite pause as the injured woman is removed from the room and the mess quickly cleaned. There's a slightly awkward moment as two partygoers each try to allow the other to go next.

The loser winner approaches with a careful smile, then pauses three yards away, where she hands the gift to her male servant to take the rest of the way. Easy to see why, once Coquette lifts the lid of the case to reveal a set of chitin, leather and copper paddles. One of which is almost but not quite a riding crop. They look well made, even if not really fancy, but given what was done with the last gift...

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Very lovely, thank you," she says, gesturing for Zevran to place it with the others. One left. 

[NPCs]

A nervous look on her face that's mostly hidden by serenity, the last gift giver approaches with a shallow bow-- and empty hands. "Lady Coquette, my congratulations on your new status," she begins without pause, her diction stately but just a hair too fast. "To honor this, I wish to offer the services of my niece, Isolda. She has yet to complete her mastery, I will frankly confess, but she is well known at the Enclave as a rising talent. Already she has sold her work, both here and to outsider merchants. She does well with portraits, should you wish one of yourself or your wife for instance but her greatest talent lays in recreating wonders of arcane phenomenon." She starts to continue, but cuts herself off before reaching true babble state.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette blinks. "I... am no mage, to display wonders for her to paint," she says carefully. 

[NPCs]

"Oh, she would-- if you were, she would be delighted to have done so, I am sure!" She smiles brightly, still nervous, still too cheerful. "But she has observed mages of all kinds in the past and studied descriptions and even a few captured illusions of legendary examples. If you ask it, I am truly sure she could select one to create for your, ah, displaying pleasure."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Ah. That would be lovely. Have her and my male work out a time when she and I are free. Thank you."

[NPCs]

A flash of outright fear shows in the woman's eyes before she dips her head. "O-Of course, I'll have her send her servant over, says, three days hence?" Lifting her head, the fear gone-- or hidden at least-- she smiles. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you of your things for at least that long after all!"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"That will do nicely. Thank you." So. That's the lever I have, is it? Very well then. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

Shortly thereafter, she sends Zevran to get the 'second present', relying on him to know she means the present from Raplin, as if she'd planned this. As if she hadn't tossed the oaken box in her suitcase and forgotten about it. 

When it arrives, she stands, commanding the attention of the room. "Grandmother," she says, giving a low bow. "My male has brought for you a gift from our friends at Raplin's Oak, one of the towns I stayed in briefly on my way here. Raplin is a surface god, and his children have prepared for the famiglia a dessert specially adapted towards Drow flavors and sensibilities. Paerie has offered to report back to them how we enjoy the dessert after all their hard work creating it. It is called a 'blondie' from the Common word 'blonde' meaning 'pale'. As you can see," she says, gesturing for Zevran to open the box. "The treats are pale, unlike many baked goods surfacers produce. The box is enspelled to keep contents fresh for longer; it, too, is part of the gift."