Damsel in Disguise [OPEN]

[Lady Liselle]

Being in disguise was something that should have come naturally to any well-bred young lady. It was taken for granted in some quarters that women were not equal to their male counterparts in intelligence, sense and any number of highly regarded qualities, and one particular young lady seated primly upon the raised platform set aside for the nobles at Lord Mannering’s fete lamented that she should constantly be wearing a mask of some form or another. Whether she was simpering to her father to get her way when she really wanted to lecture him on how to properly keep his household accounts in check or behaving in a more demure manner when she would have liked nothing better to scratch someone’s face off, Liselle was a master of disguises in many cases. She slipped into deceit as often and as happily as she slipped into a warm bath, and as adept as she was at fitting most situations to her advantage she did sometimes find the game got a little tiring without a new challenge.

The reason for her being in Nottingham remained forefront in her mind, and the increase of eligible bachelors in the vicinity could not help but please her wandering gaze. Her particular criteria for assessment could present some few problems, she supposed begrudgingly, but only if she chose to see it as a set-back. He must be rich to start with, and as all sensible people knew wealth and power went hand in hand. Position and title married just as easily with the first couplet, and if Liselle permitted herself one fanciful thought a day it was that her future husband aught to be handsome if he possibly could be. The distinctive hierarchy of the noblemen in Nottinghamshire was a lure to Liselle as any worm would be to a fine river trout, and she knew the ins and outs of the pecking order with precision and (dare she say it?) ambition.

Her green eyes scanned the crowd much like those of a lioness perused the savannah, pausing here and there to wonder at certain gentlemen’s agendas or to scorn an offensive-looking peasant with an expressive blinking of her heavy lashes. Once her third survey had been completed and nothing of interest found within the perimeter of her scrupulous vision, Liselle instantly became bored. The sun was warm enough to warrant the fan she fluttered with an expert wrist, the midnight blue lace matching the muted hue of her peacock-inspired gown to perfection. Her left hand remained poised primly in her lap, and the only movement aside from the buzzing of her fan was the tickling of the smirk at the corner of her lips, inspired by her own wicked inner reflections on those present at the fete.

[vaysey]

Vaysey was bored.

Oh, yes, Sebastian’s speech had been quite entertaining, he supposed, very clever and very short, just the way most peasants liked it, and he had nearly laughed aloud at the thought that Sebastian wished for any of them to be truly merry, but that was about it. Gisborne had wandered off somewhere, brooding as usual, and with Sebastian off getting dressed or wooing women or whatever else it was doing, he had no one to play with.

After all, this was probably the one day in the year that he couldn’t just start arresting people or collect taxes. He hoped they didn’t do it too often.

Not even the blasted Hood had shown up yet, but then he supposed he wouldn’t notice his enemy until the archery contest began. He was looking forward to that; a chance to see if Hood could escape his little trap. He had men situated throughout the fete, all marked for each other to recognise by a certain knot tied in their masks, and an empty mug (or so he hoped; if any of the slackers had been drinking today, he’d hang the lot of them). It wasn’t exactly the best identifier, but the knot was fairly complex and obvious if you knew what you were looking for, and most of the guards had arrived together so they knew what the others had come wearing.

He looked around from his chair on the dias, noting a few miserable looking peasants (or he thought they looked miserable; it was hard to tell with all these masks) and chuckling at the pathetic attempts at costume by some of the villagers. That was why they had a costume party. For the entertainment factor of the people.

He raised a hand to his own face - he wasn’t one for masks, but as the rules stipulated all must disguise their face, he had found one of his black silk handkerchiefs and tied it around his mouth, and another over the top of his head, pulled on some of his plainer clothes (and had realised he didn’t own any colour except black) and came dressed like that. It wasn’t much of a disguise but he still looked better than some people. He pulled down the handkerchief over his mouth and took a swig of his wine; there was no point going thirsty and it wasn’t like his identity was a disguise anyway.

He gazed around, who could he annoy today? He felt like pestering someone. The Lord Merton, perhaps? No, the man was a simpering idiot; useful, to be sure, but spending even the remotest moment with him caused Vaysey’s skin to crawl and consider having his bath a year early. Alice of Underwood, then? He shook his head. The girl was an idiot, too, but a sweet, naïve idiot - the kind that probably secretly detested him. He did so hate unexpressed emotions; if people wanted to hate him, they should just hate him! He respected a person true to their opinions; it would also get rid of a few people for him.

Nothing like a good beheading.

His gaze wandered over to the lady in blue. Ah, the Lady Liselle. Daughter of the Duke of Doncaster. He had to be careful with her; oh, he hated women so much, ever since… no, he wouldn’t think of it now. But he disliked the company of pretty young women; it reminded him of what he had lost, and what he would not have, and at the end of the day he’d rather be a grumpy old man than have some sprightly little wench dancing around him, spending his money and sleeping around. What was offspring? He would pass on his legacy through Gisborne, more than likely.

But she; her father was quite a powerful man, and if he could get Liselle on side, why, perhaps the Duke would follow? Surely a father would listen to the advice of his wonderful and loving young daughter, should she have something beneficial to say? He could promise them lands, Prince John’s ear in certain matters… The possibilities were vast.

With that decided, he figured he may as well make a head start on the matter. He pushed himself out of his seat and wandered over to the lady, busy observing the crowd. He might as well be a gentleman for a day, even if it pained him. Who knows? Perhaps she would be more entertaining than the other simpering women. For once, he just longed for some intelligent conversation. He wondered if he was starting to get stupider from all the time he spent around his idiotic guards.

”Ma’am,” he nodded, resting a hand on the back of her chair as he sat to occupy the one beside her. ”And how are you enjoying our little event so far? Any man come to seek your favour for the contest?”

[Lady Liselle]

It was lucky for Lord Mannering that he had provided shade enough for Liselle’s rather particular stipulations with regard to sunning herself in excess. It might be well enough for the likes of peasants to scamper about the countryside without a care for their appearances (and on occasion the clever blonde had noticed the Lady Marian stooping to such a level) but Liselle was of a mind that well-bred young ladies always took pride and pleasure in how they presented themselves. She waved off a wine-bearing serving girl with an imperious flick of her fan; Alcohol was yet another vice that the lady abstained from. Too often had she seen many a so-called virtuous maiden far gone in drink, dribbling her wits and loose with her favors.

Absolutely despicable.

She continued to watch the scene before her as if it were merely the indifferent interlude of a very drawn-out play, the calm before the theatrical storm one could say. She was well aware that something was supposed to happen or was happening. The air was thick with raw human emotions from unbridled merriment (how uncouth) through to palatable tension (which was much more her bag). Sadly it seemed that Mannering himself had run off somewhere – probably somewhere he would pick up an unholy affliction in his nether-regions – and she had seen naught of Sir Guy for days, a fact which was definitely lamented as it put a rather wet blanket over her carefully contrived plans.

Her hungry eyes caught sight of the Sheriff as he rose from his throne-like seat and sauntered along the dais in her direction. Opportunity for personal interaction (that was to be said ‘personal interaction’ beyond the formalities of greeting at meals or passing by accident) with him were often rare. Liselle could only assume that state matters and the walking, festering carcass that was Robin Hood plagued him when he would have seen leisure. Even now he appeared to be ever watchful of the crowd, and the blonde young woman admired him greatly for his perseverance and prowess. She quickly looked away quickly before he came nearer, falling easily into a game she employed with simple elegance; She would wait until he was within speaking distance and then fix him with a coy gaze that would last no shorter nor longer than it should.

Imagine our Lady’s surprise, then, when Sheriff Vaysey himself slipped like liquid velvet into a chair beside her and making her the object of his conversation! The euphoric pleasure of the triumph was increased tenfold when his subject revealed itself as being one of her very favorite conversational topics.

Herself.

“Dozens, My Lord,” she replied dishonestly with a smile teasing her lips as she let her fan lay unopened in her lap, clasped modestly with both hands. “But I fear their pleadings are as yet ineffectual. I only have one favor to give, and I would loathe to bestow it undeservedly.” She let her insinuation hang in the air, much like the light scent of her musky perfume, before she allowed her smile to blossom into something less suggestive and more winsome. “Your costume is puzzling, I confess. Should I attempt to make it out, or simply attest it to the ‘dashing’ facet of your personality?”

[vaysey]

Well, if there was one thing Vaysey could say about Liselle, it was that she certainly kept a firm grip of herself. Most women cringed at the site of his approach; most men were unhappy to have him near them. Perhaps it was something to do with the off chance he would hang them. He would never really know.
He could also tell she was lying, but only due to the fact he knew who had approached the dias. In recent times, he had become paranoid about being poisoned (especially after the incident with the Scarlett outlaw) and regularly took doses of an expensive but effective anti-poison, but even this hadn’t quite calmed his nerves and he was suspicious of all who approached him or his company.

You never knew when a rival lord was trying to pay someone to knock you off.

He smiled, false but good enough, as the young lady began to talk of her imaginary suitors; at least it had gotten the conversation started, he supposed. He wondered if she even had a handkerchief or some other such token spare about her person; he was unsure if she were truly the type to waste time on such frivolous gestures. He did take note of the insinuation and fought some revulsion; oh, no, she was here for a husband. He wasn’t entirely surprised, but he wasn’t keen on the idea of another round of love struck Guy-beating. After Marian, he wasn’t sure he could handle another such problem afflicting his second in command.

”Ah, Vaysey said, looking down at his “costume” and then back up to Liselle, smile back in place as it had dropped with the question. ”A little something I picked up from my travels, my dear lady. A frivolous expense, but one that has come to some use.” He did have enough courtesty to give a small nod of his head in thanks for the veiled compliment to his person. If he didn’t know better, he would have said she was trying to get something out of the- wait, no,she probably was. It certainly wasn’t for the company.

He was lying, and he was fairly certain they both knew it. He then gestured to the maiden’s gown. ”And a fine gown you wear this day, fine gown… Much better quality than that of our seamstresses. You are prepared for all events?” he asked. He wondered whether this was practicality or vanity - sometimes it was difficult to recognise the difference in women.

He noted the crowd around the application table was thinning - soon the contest would begin. He turned to sit in his seat properly, leaning his head over in order to ask his next question.

”Are any of your men entering the contest, Lady Liselle? It would be a fine addition to your list of achievements to have your man win such an… esteemed contest.”

[Lady Liselle]

Upon the Sheriff looking at his costume depreciatingly Liselle smothered the wry expression that threatened to encroach on her dimples. She had no doubt that he was given over almost entirely to ‘frivolous expense’, she had seen the extent of his wardrobe since she had descended upon Nottingham. He dressed well for a man of his age and so he should, she supposed. Nottingham rode on the backs of peasants who worked all the harder for the chance that Robin Hood would save them all, while the Sheriff and those associated with him grew richer in lieu of the outlaw’s profound stupidity. Oh, how Liselle wanted to secure her seat on that rather illustrious gravy-train. She was mindful of his acknowledgement of her compliment, and offered him a smile in return for his.

Liselle Bassen had been born prepared, and any problems relating to organisation or execution she might have experienced in her early years had been staunched ironed out of her personality by her extremely determined mother. Thankfully the Lady possessed the quickness of mind that would allow her to make an educated and witty reply without it seeming churlish or unfounded, and she drew on her resources after considering his use of the words ‘prepared for all occasions’. ”Indeed it is a Lady’s duty to be prepared for anything her father or husband may ask of her, she replied carefully, knowing that he was judging her even as she was assessing him. ”I take pride in my appearance and other gentle hobbies, My Lord. Women, as you are no doubt aware do not have business to attend to, nor are we able to take to the more noble pursuits of men.”

There, though Liselle with smug self-satisfaction. Surely that ought to put him in the frame of mind that she was naught but what she ought to be; subservient, eager to please and above all a pretty trophy that any man should be happy to possess and flaunt. She made no ventures into conversing with regard to politics or finances, and while her remarks might be considered witty she rarely professed an opinion that she had not re-formed from some mindless comment or another spouted by her less intelligent counterparts. The Sheriff managed to entice a sly smile from her when he mentioned her ‘men’ and she could not help but chuckle inwardly at his playing along with her harmless little deception.

”I cannot imagine what men My Lord is referring to,” she stated as she smiled and coyly turned her head away from him for a moment, acting as though she were embarrassed to be talking of such a topic when in actual fact she was thrilled. For the lack of something more useful to do with her hands she raised her right and flicked open her fan once more, welcoming the cool breeze the fluttering motion of her wrist excited at her neckline. ”I gave no permission for any man to attempt to win the tourney on my behalf, and as such my claim for glory today is spent. Perhaps I would reconsider,” she laughed lightly, “If an exceptionally worthy man were to present himself to me.”

[vaysey]

Oh, bugger, Vaysey thought as Liselle asserted herself as yet another dull and repetitive, meek kind of woman. He appreciated a bit of fire around him (provided that they agreed with him; if they were an enemy, they ought to be the first to die), not these washed up girls who were always so polite and hid poisonous barbs amongst sweet smelling compliments. He supposed that she really needed to be quite neutral and appear the perfect take home wife, but it was precisely this kind of behaviour that made Vaysey miss his sister Davina so. A part of him ached at the hollow that had been left when she died in his arms; yes, he did indeed truly care for his sister. Blood is thicker than water, after all. They had always been close as children, and while they did not see each other as much upon growing up, they remained in correspondence as often as possible and Vaysey liked to regard her as his closest aide; he’d always consulted her on major decisions, and she had always agreed with him.

Oh well, it couldn’t be an entirely lost cause. If she were indeed as she seemed (and with each passing moment, he feared it to be true), perhaps a little gentle persuasion would ensure her father’s cooperation in matters regarding the king. He wasn’t entirely sure Doncaster was on side, against King and loyal to the Prince, but he knew the man would be a powerful ally; so many different nobles passed through his courts daily that in no time, most of the country could be persuaded into aiding the succession of Prince John to the throne. And then the real fun would begin.

He smiled politely at her. Was she after Gisborne? He was an exceptionally worthy man, to Vaysey at least - an indispensable ally and companion, although he would never admit it out loud. And all the women seemed to be after Gisborne - the servant girl he’d knocked up, the wretched Marian, various other peasants throwing themselves at him… He supposed the man was wealthy and had power, which seemed enough of an aphrodisiac for women these days that personality and the idea of putting up with such a brooding spectacle must not bother them.

”Perhaps the Lord Gisborne?” he decided to voice his thoughts. Gisborne was the only one likely to enter, if only to try and show up his rival Hood. He realised he had just referred to his man as Lord and was mildly shocked, but forgot about it. He was trying to be proper in polite company and was long out of practice. ”Surely there is no worthier man in the shire?” he asked. There; sometimes subtlety was not the answer, and he didn’t have the patience for skirting around the question. He was hopelessly horrible at analysing women. They just didn’t seem… real to his mind. It was a large part of why he detested them so.

He wondered idly how he would get her on to the topic of her father, if ever, without being so direct; the subject matter he would be enquiring about was too sensitive to be quite so brash as he had just been. He decided to continue talking about her, and hope it would eventually allow him to divine some conclusions. ”If you do not find it so rude, my lady, what brings you to our small shire? Surely one such as yourself would be more suited to the London courts?”

He had to suppress a cringe as he referred to her as my lady. It just sound wrong coming from him. Completely wrong.

(OOC - yeah totally no idea what to say next, lol… sorry! Also, yay clueless!Vaysey. He is bad with women. Hope this is ok!)

[Lady Liselle]

As the Sheriff continued their verbal dance, Liselle could not help but think that either he was a very stupid man or a very smart one. Seeing as she ha no desire to bend her mind to the former she settled that he must simply be playing along with the seemingly light-hearted banter they wee engaged in. Of course Liselle knew (and suspected that he did also) that there were dozens of hidden meanings in every sentence currently passing between the pair, and she revelled in the fact that she was at least holding her own. She had been just about to open her mouth to make a remark about how long it was taking the competition to start when Vaysey had dropped a certain name into their conversation. Liselle, who had certainly not been expecting such a forward suggestion, merely lifted her fan two inches high where it covered the shocked parting of her lips.

There was, as per usual, several schools of thought as to why the Sheriff would introduce the subject of Gisborne into their conversation. The first was that he was genuinely attempting to be helpful and if she were to affirm his suggestion he might repay her by promising to speak to Gisborne about the matter. Unlikely, thought Liselle shrewdly. Even though the Sheriff had Gisborne’s ear and vice-versa she doubted that such a suggestion from the older man would be welcome or proper considering that no great amount of time had passed between Gisborne being left at the alter by that treasonous wench Marian. The second train of thought that entered Liselle’s mind was that the Sheriff secretly hoped to lure her into an admission in a bid to gauge her regard for him. She was not going to fall into that particular trap either. Third (and perhaps the most intriguing and likely) was that the Sheriff hoped to make out her thoughts on Gisborne for some odd design of his own.

Liselle was going to have to be very, very careful.

“Sir Guy is an exceptional man,” Liselle agreed with a gentle laugh. “And I am sure that any Lady should be flattered if he were to attempt to win their favour, but I find it unlikely that he would descend to such a measure, would you not agree?” She paused for a moment, lowering the fan that had obscured all of her features besides her clever green eyes as she tilted her head to the side with a show of understated naivety. “Regardless of that, however,” Liselle ventured with the hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “Many would consider you to be the worthiest man in the Shire, my Lord.”

A few seconds of pregnant silence ran through to full term before she replied to his enquiry about her presence in Nottinghamshire. “Ahh,” she said with a smile that she hoped would lend ingenuity to her countenance. “I have family in Underwood hat my father wished for me to visit with. He intends to take over the governing of my young cousin there; a girl who has grown most wild with the – affectations – of certain people amongst your populace.” There could be no doubt that she referred to her younger cousin Penelope and the rather fanciful notions she had assumed with regards to the former Lord of Locksley. “My father hopes that I will be a good influence to her; Tame her down, if you will, before we remove her to Doncaster.”

[vaysey]

She was good, he had to admit. He could divine no ulterior motive from her answer; it was exactly as it should be from a woman of her position, and he both cursed and applauded her for her skills. She was intelligent, he’d give her that.

He was mildly surprised by the compliment from her, though, and he hoped he had covered it up well enough. He made sure to smile at her, bow his head in thanks for the compliment.

”You are being far too kind to me, madam, far too kind.” But a woman would only pursue him for money and power. Then again, he was the most powerful man in the shire, and he could understand the logic. However, he was of the firm belief that no woman would consider going anywhere near him, partly due to his demeanour and partly due to that small part of him that refused to believe women were anything but evil, sneaky bastards.

Oh, Underwood. Vaysey ran through the names and faces of those he needed to know from the nobility of Underwood, but he couldn’t place her. Damn his lack of attention! At least this woman had a legitimate reason for staying at the castle - it was unlikely the Underwood manor had too many more rooms. Unlike some of the other nobles currently leeching off his generosity…

”I am certain that you will be a most wonderful guide to her, Lady Liselle. Too many of the younger generation have been enamoured with some of the more rebellious peasants, but it’s a problem that should soon be ironed out, I assure you.” A small part of him danced in glee at the thought of the poisonous plan he would soon put into action. He could so happily go and find Sebastian and kiss him at this point - it was genius. Pure genius. And, if he were lucky, Robin would eat some of the food himself and save Vaysey the time of hunting him down as he brooded over the amount of people he had killed. ”I do hope you will not allow the rabble to taint your enjoyment whilst you are here? There are many places I am sure you will find of great interest. How are you enjoying life in the castle? I assume everything you need is being taken care of?”

And if they weren’t, he’d be firing a few peasants. He often wondered if he paid them too much for too little work.

[Lady Liselle]

Liselle was quick enough to spot the momentary glimmer of surprise in the Sheriff’s gaze no matter how quickly and expertly he then was able to recover himself. Inwardly she smiled, imagining a piece of parchment with two columns dividing it; one for the Sheriff and one for her. She added a mark to her column, wondering how many more she would be able to tally up before this tête-à-tête was concluded. She merely smiled blandly as he acknowledged her compliment, reminding herself that she must now retract herself from him with respect to her accessibility and willingness to engage so easily in conversation. If Liselle knew one thing about men (a strange idea as she seemed to think she knew so much more than just one thing) it was that they were hunters whether they owned to the skill or nay. And hunters, as all the world knows, would rather pursue a risky, difficult game than have two inferior birds in the hand.

”I assure that I find Nottingham to be worth all of the praise it receives in the North,” she said truthfully. She was indeed struck with the natural beauty of the place for even a girl of Liselle’s character is not wholly bad. She enjoyed walking through the township (with her Steward in tow of course) and rides through the shallower parts of the forest that were still deemed under the Sheriff’s control and free from banditry. ”I believe it affixes itself to my heart a little more with each day. I believe I will be sorry to leave.” Offering a short smile, Liselle took a goblet of chilled sweet water from a passing maid and took a sip.

”Indeed, I could not wish for anything more from your over-generous hospitality my Lord. Any minor matters are easily sorted out by my own servants; I should have no desire to trouble you with anything so trivial when you are already borne down with affairs of state.” Flattered and pleased that the Sheriff himself has enquired about her wellbeing, her state of happiness and her immediate needs Liselle was quite beside herself and could hardly wait to write the days’ events in her journal so that she could reflect upon it all in the comfort and privacy of her own chambers.

She paused thoughtfully, sipping her water as street acrobats performed in front of the dais after doing the rounds in other areas of the fete. When he clapping and cheering surrounding them had died down, Liselle fixed Vaysey with a soft but equally direct look. ”I am certainly not the type of scandalous young lady who would associate or encourage outlaws, my Lord Sheriff. The behavior of certain young women I have no choice but to claim an acquaintance with,” she spoken now of Marian, ”Both shames and disgusts me. However true loyalty to the Crown must be obtained is hardly to be objected to by women who know nothing of the intricacies of the affairs, would you not agree?” it was here that Liselle showed her true intelligence and ability to contradict herself. She claimed that women in general were giddy and frivolous with little to no knowledge of business and politics yet she delivered such a speech as to assert almost totally that she was not one of those type of women at all.

Woops.

[vaysey]

He was pleased to hear she was enjoying herself; one less thing in any report to get out and undermine his authority. Constant viligance, that was something Vaysey was always muttering to himself when alone. He could trust fewer people these days than ever; what had happened to the good old days when everyone was content with the original deal, a bit of gold for a bit of silence? People were changing too much, trying to modernise the world when it was, in Vaysey’s eyes, perfectly fine the way it was.


”Indeed, I could not wish for anything more from your over-generous hospitality my Lord. Any minor matters are easily sorted out by my own servants; I should have no desire to trouble you with anything so trivial when you are already borne down with affairs of state.”

”Good, good,” he replied, glad at least one thing was going right. She did have a large number of her own maids, and it was unusual in these parts to see nobility take their servants around with them, instead of leeching off whomever was dutiful enough to put them up. It made his life a lot easier, to be sure. As duty demanded, though, he nodded his head once more. ”I am sure it would be of no trouble if you did need something, madam, so don’t hesitate to ask.”

Shocked by her proclamation, Vaysey fixed her with an equally firm look. ”I did not mean to insinuate such a thing, madam,” he replied, mentally noting that she seemed to find such a thing offensive, and privately glad of it. Gisborne could play with this one, then; she wasn’t going to run off and blab all their plans to the nearest ear. And she was indeed clever, if a little confusing at times. He nodded throughout her speech, smiling a little to himself. She was clearly much more interested in the politics of the land than she indicated, and he wondered if by “the crown”, she meant King Richard, or whoever would be most beneficial at the time.

Women. Slippery beasts.

”Ah, Marian,” Vaysey picked up on the subtle dig, and leaned back in his chair once more, observing the still milling peasants as they applauded the acrobats, who were certainly skilled. One of them, a minstrel, seemed to be wandering through, but he couldn’t tell if the man was actually part of the act or a guest dressed up. It didn’t really matter, either way – it was a day of relaxation, was it not? Vaysey could only hope it would remain relaxed, or else possibly land him with someone to behead.

Preferably Hood.

”She would have enjoyed such a fair, don’t you think?” he smirked, thinking of how mad she must be to have her title taken away from her. She had been declared an enemy of the state upon his return, her titles and lands stripped from her and bestowed upon another. He wondered whether Sebastian had taken up residence in what would have been her room, or her father’s.

(OOC: blah. *blinks* Need sugar. Next time shall be better, promise. >_>;; )

[Lady Liselle]

Sheriff Vaysey’s seemingly easy manners and readiness to engage in conversation was as surprising as it was pleasing. On top of her goal to make a memorable impression upon Nottingham’s most nefarious bachelor (as far as she was concerned) she found his society not nearly so irksome as she had originally expected. This in itself was a blessing; if by some miracle she was able to charm him spending more time in his company would hardly be a hurdle at all. Liselle also was pleased that he was able to show her the respect and attention due a lady of her breeding and station; an artful flush colored the apples of her cheeks but for a moment when he once again informed her that he was (more or less) at her disposal.

”You are all kindness, My Lord,” she acquiesced. Knowing her place both as a woman and as a guest in the Sheriff’s unequivocal domain Liselle merely bowed her head slightly at the mentioning of Marian’s name. She knew idle gossip about the former Sheriff’s daughter, but nothing more or less than the servants could provide her with. She had not had much occasion to spend with the brunette, thank Heavens. Certainly a lady like Liselle had no desire to be tarred with the same brush as an outlaw’s consort. The infamous manner in which Marian had treated poor Sir Guy was also well-known; the girl was, then, just as stupid as she looked if she could expect to slight a man of Gisborne’s consequence and still maintain a claim of dignity and birth-right.

Silly, silly girl.

The look that now adorned Liselle’s pale face was one that clearly showed her dislike for the mentioned maiden. She didn’t need to glance around to know exactly what the Sheriff was speaking of, but Liselle was not yet so wholly comfortable with the clever and manipulative Sheriff to let her guard down completely. Her eyes flickered to the face of her companion playfully and a smirk plucked at the corner of her mouth. ”Indeed she would have,” Liselle ventured carefully. The concern that then tainted her tone was more of a blanket statement than the words it employed themselves. ”Her actions and behavior is unpardonable. It is woman like she that so poison the world’s views on the feminine sex in general, do you not think so My Lord?” Liselle paused long enough for him to know she didn’t truly expect an answer to her rhetorical.

”I pray for her soul, and hope that she may find salvation at the gallows.”

((HEE. You're so awesome. <3))

[vaysey]

Did he give off the air of being… unapproachable? Vaysey was somewhat amused by the thought, noticing Liselle seemed, at least, a little confused as to why he was being so open. It was a fair, wasn’t it, a celebration? Even he could let his hair down, as it were. Besides, he hadn’t really had to deal with noble women before, at least, none save Marian, and she wasn’t exactly a lady, was she? He did have some charm and knowledge of socialising in upper circles, else he would have never gotten to the position he had aquired for himself.

Oh, goodie.

Liselle disliked Marian. Well, this could be interesting. Perhaps he should lift the title outlaw from Marian’s shoulders and stick the two in a room. Who knows, maybe Liselle would teach Marian her place! It was an idea to keep in mind – give the woman one last chance, perhaps. Gisborne did pine after her so, it was most irritating for Vaysey, and he enjoyed nothing if not making Marian’s life as difficult as possible. Surely it would be more fun to watch her, at the hands of a true woman, subjected to lessons in ettiqute to tame her wild nature and see her put in her proper place?

Definitely a thought worth entertaining, at least.

”It’s good to know we’re on the same page,” Vaysey replied joviaily, his thoughts and Liselle’s reply making him quite happy. He didn’t think they’d have too many problems after all, and if, on the off chance, she could calm down the sheer amount of strong willed women in the area, remind them of their positions, then he certainly would be quite happy to cater to her whims.

Indeed, he thought to himself, and gave an ever so slight nod to Liselle’s observation. Although, he had to disagree in regards to the gallows. Lady Marian deserved a much more entertaining demise. He was currently thinking of a bird cage, much like the one he’d kept his gold in that one time, where everyone could see; to mock Robin; his little turtle dove trapped beyond his reach, a place not even little Robin-bird could fly up and peck her free. Maybe he’d feed her on occasion. Probably not, though.

Of course, it probably wasn’t wise to mention these thoughts to Liselle. Guy? Perhaps later.

Feeling the need to change the subject, he turned his head away and focused on the entertainers. Leaning his chin in one hand, he changed the subject.

”I believe I saw you speaking with the Lord Mannering earlier today, my lady…?” he ventured.

You could never have insignificant information on your allies.

(OOC: <333 You too~ I still maintain - Liselle confuses me. XD;; )

[Lady Liselle]

The mere fact that she seemed to be getting along famously with the most powerful man in Nottingham would have brought as much of a smile to the face of her dear Father as it did to Liselle herself. Her green eyes sparkled deliciously; there was nothing that brightened her outlook better than underhandedness. Abandoning her drink for the solace of her gently wafting fan Liselle relaxed a bit more. Perhaps men in Nottingham weren’t as hopeless as she had first ascertained? Indeed if the genial mood of the Sheriff was anything to go by then things were definitely off on the right foot. She could not account for the acidic and abrasive nature of Sir Guy of Gisborne, however.

Pity. He was rather pretty to look at. It was a shame he seemed to think so little of himself as to chase outlawed maidens.

”Oh yes,” Liselle answered honestly in response to the Sheriff’s latest question. ”I happened across Lord Mannering shortly before I was seated. I own that I have not spent much time in the man’s presence,” she paused, thinking quietly to herself that she should not be sorry to know more of him. ”But he seems to be a gentleman, if one doesn’t listen to idle servant gossip.” Liselle could not help but think that if she knew what direction Vaysey’s questioning was headed in she might be able to provide a more accurate answer. For all her deviousness and manipulative ways, one thing was always fixed in Liselle Bassen’s rather transient personality.

She was always loyal to the highest bidder.

During her younger years her father had been the seeming source of power and authority within her life and so naturally her allegiance went automatically to him. As she grew older and began to explore her womanly wiles and the effects a dimpled smile or a well-timed light touch on a man’s arm could have she came to realize that it was in fact the Lady Doncaster who controlled her husband and thus, his destiny and all perks thereof. She learned much (and was still learning) from her mother about how to be submissively powerful. Any idiot could rule with a hot head and an iron fist. To rule with the delicacy of lace and the sweetness of honey was actually a challenge.

In her teenage years Liselle had proven herself a valuable asset to the House of Bassen. She would play off the sons of local Lords against each other and profit heartily from the outcome. If her father wanted a particular adjoining piece of land she would influence a young knight to make war upon it, bringing down the value of the parcel to effect a bargain purchase for her father. The Duke was, therefore, seen as a kind and generous man throughout his shire; he saved starving farmers from poverty and depression by paying them more than their land was worth at the time of purchase but not nearly half what it would be worth once it had been resown. In return his daughter was favored, well-treated and learned much about the ways of the world and, more importantly, how to control said ways.

”I fear that poor Sir Guy does not look upon his arrival with a favorable eye, however,” she ventured with the hint of a promise to find out more. ”I wonder if Lord Mannering busies himself with thoughts of Sir Guy in return, although I doubt it.” Allowing a smirk to tug at the corner of her lips closest to the Sheriff who might observe her wry hypothesis if he wished, Liselle leaned a little closer, as though not wishing to be overheard.

”Apparently he has a taste for peasant girls.”

((OOC: I'm sorry! I shall try to tone her down a bit!! :3))

[vaysey]

(OOC: No, no! I was just indicating my not-so-intelligent =3 NEVER change Liselle. She is <333!)

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Liselle fanning herself with her fan. He supposed it was a little warm, but figured it was probably more for show than any desire to be… cooler. People had to keep up appearances after all. Unfortunately, his… not so subtle nosing around about Sebastian had yielded barely anything. A shame, that, but now he’d let slip he wanted to know more about the man (and if he were honest, it were anything he could get his hands on – he knew the bare bones, what family the man came from, to whom he swore alligence, etc, but it was always good to have something with which to… persuade someone), then perhaps if any interesting little tidbits fell into the lady’s lap, she might be kind enough to pass them on.

”Apparently, he has a taste for peasant girls.”

Such as that. Now, he knew Sebastian was likely a very unfaithful man and slept around – you could tell that just by looking at him; his flamboyant nature cried out for attention – but he would have thought he’d be at least a little more discreet about it. Liselle had only been around for a week, at the most, and if the servants were already gossiping enough for her to overhear (hell, for any noble to overhear), then he had to be doing something wrong. Perhaps the mouths in Nottingham were just more likely to flap. He raised an eyebrow in response, and gave Liselle a smirk, not turning to look but leaning in closer.

”That, madam, is quite interesting. Not unusual, to be sure, but interesting. Especially when such beauties as you are abroad,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. Really, why wasn’t he being more discreet about it? Even Guy had the sense to ensure whichever wench he took to bed kept it quiet. Like that one girl, the castle servant with her brat… Oh, he couldn’t remember her name, but she had remained silent… Until Guy ditched the kid. Honestly, didn’t he know he should have just killed the damn thing and buried it somewhere? The yard filled with the unmarked graves of those prosecuted by the law, for example. No one would have noticed another grave there. Sometimes he despaired – Guy just didn’t seem to have the aptitude to think cunningly enough most of the time. Sure, occasionally there was that bright gem, but even they tended to backfire (the black powder and Guy’s little friend, getting a spy into Hood’s camp, those damn kids during the super-armour fiasco…).

”Sir Guy hasn’t had much of an opportunity to get to know Sebastian, I fear,” he replied, deciding this was a safer avenue of conversation. ”I feel he’s been spending a lot of time at his homestead, but now that Lord Mannering has such a closely linked homestead of his own, I fear they may just have to deal with each other.” Vaysey couldn’t help but grin at Sebastian’s reply when he had asked if he was familiar with Gisborne – "Tall fellow, broody, hung up on that Marian wench, wears a lot of leather.". Such an accurate description, too.

They may well just have to busy themselves with thoughts of each other. They’ll be seeing a fair bit of each other soon.

[Lady Liselle]

((A thousand apologies for being slack with my reply. I am back (with a vengeance?) now and intend on being more faithful. <3))


If there was a secret or a morsel of gossip to be had within a 50 mile radius, it was a safe bet that the Lady Liselle would have her hand in it. While she strictly endeavoured to keep her own name free from scandal at all times nothing delighted her more than relaying intricacies involving other poor, unfortunate souls who were not as lucky nor as clever as she. She enjoyed the look on the Sheriff’s face as she dropped a hint about Lord Mannering, his newest puppet. Liselle didn’t really know anything about Sebastian Mannering, really, but one thing was a constant in the equation. Men, she knew, were men, and it wouldn’t take much to find them sniffing about in certain quarters. No, Liselle felt very safe in asserting her suppositions about Lord Mannering’s taste in women.

She only hoped he validated them.

Had Liselle been born a man then she surely would have made a formidable opponent in politics. That was, of course, assuming that the failings of all men didn’t also affect her constitution. As it was she used her situation to the best of her advantage, which included charming Sheriff Vaysey. She had every intention on setting her cap for him and, failing his interest, Sir Guy. The closer she was to the new King the better, and she had no problem with her husband – whoever he was – seeking other women’s (or men’s, if such was his desire) beds when all was said and done. One boy child and her gravy train would carry her happily through until the end of her days. Such comforts were dreamed of. Such comforts were counted on.

As with any war (and the monopolising of the eligible men in the vicinity was a war; Liselle loathed to think of naive little Alice Brandon or opinionated Marian leading afore her) one had to plan one’s campaign carefully. Her father had taught her that much, albeit inadvertently. She would surmise her opponents and take stock of them, and then she would systematically set out to destroy them all one by one. And now, it started with the pretty little sparrow that also resided momentarily in the castle. She had seen Alice starry-eyed with her heaving bosom for too many days now to have to guess at her thoughts. It was just a question of who had inspired such looks and sighs.

”My Lord Sheriff is too kind,” Liselle responded, a genuine blush coloring her cheeks for a moment before she checked it. Her eyes sparked with interest but she knew what she was about. ”I do so wonder at Sir Guy,” she mused softly. ”That he is so set in his ways. Adaptability, it may be said, is the way of the future. Progress. Surely it is your malleable sense of foresight that enables you to keep those horrid outlaws cowering in the forest where they belong!” With a pause and a feather-light touch of her hand on Vaysey’s forearm, Liselle offered him a dimpled smile. ”Of course, Sir Guy and Lord Mannering are neither of them blessed with your wisdom and experience in such matters.”