Closely Guarded and Silent (Closed RP)

The brief journey to the Maven's suite was punctuated with occasional awkward glances from her guide- if she'd let go of my arm, then we could 'talk', insofar as that's possible. Her thought was marked with a bittersweet half-smile before she looked up at the Maven. It's in here, says a nod to a door, before she opens it with her free hand.

The suite that the Grand General had prepared for the Maven left nothing to spare- the bed was a four-poster queen with drapes of velvet, and the room itself was as large as the one they'd had dinner in. There was a bathroom adjoining the west wall, with a tub equivalent to a small swimming pool, and mirrors lining every spare surface, allowing for whatever vanities a guest might desire. Elegant, scrolling patterns run along the wallpaper in the bedroom, calling to mind a certain delicate touch.

Half of the east wall opens into a large closet, holding linens, bathrobes, pillows, and even spare garments, should a guest require them. A bookshelf dominates the other half, holding volumes on musical theory, histories from around Valoran, and many other items that the General had thought might pique the Maven's interest. All around, lighting is provided by pewter candelabras, holding blue, white, and gold tapers as a nod to Sona's home.

As the musician looks around, legs shaking from disuse and excitement, Alexis writes a quick note, alerting Sona to it with a light tap on the shoulder.

'Maven, I don't know if you've been told this, but I'm mute as well, and I thought you should know if I'm to accompany you in Noxus.'

It's a bold move to speak so freely of herself without prompting, but Sona had said that they were equals now.

Alexis blinks. 'The gold taps in the bathroom are for hot water, and the silver ones are for cold. All the necessary toiletries can be found in the mirrored cabinets above the sink, and there's a wealth of choice. In the closet is a bathrobe for you, as well as extra bedding, and the string next to the bed is for you to pull, should you need anything in the night.' She wonders if she's done something wrong. The question was as clear a dismissal as any, save the ones she'd received from the Grand General. Was Sona out to find a new companion?

The yawn that the Maven issued, after a perfunctory conclusion, served to ease Alexis' thoughts somewhat, but she spent the return walk to the servant's quarters in curious contemplation.

The Next Morning

At 4 o' clock the next morning, Alexis wakes with her fellow servants, and yawns- it's going to be a long day, as typical. She gets dressed in her uniform, though she leaves off the apron, today. I think the Maven might like that better than full uniform; my only civilian clothing is tattered, and pathetic next to hers. A few hours pass in cleaning and preparing the Hold for the day, before Alexis realizes that the Maven hasn't received breakfast, yet.

The smells of the food in the kitchen prompt a gurgle of hunger from Alexis' stomach, but she shakes her head. I don't have time, I need to get breakfast to the Maven before I take my own. With a half-sigh of regret, she piles the tray high with a sumptuous assortment of food; unintentionally, it's more than Sona is likely to eat. Alexis' thin arms tremble under the weight of it all; a bowl of cold fruits, a platter of chocolate pastries, an omelette du fromage the size of the plate it's been served on (and perfectly cooked). A plate of toast with lumps of butter rest in the center of three pitchers, one of orange juice, one of milk, and one of water.

It's far too much for Alexis' bony limbs to support, but she does her utmost, balancing the tray against her chest as she makes her way slowly up the stairs. Caution written in her posture, she wedges the tray against her knee and her chest as she arrives at Sona's door, and knocks hastily, begging entry as politely as she can before she needs to pick up the tray with both her hands again.

Surprise flickers over Alexis' thin face as her load lightens, but she hides it quickly as she adjusts the balance of the tray to step over the threshold. Gently, she sets it down on the table, but it clatters; Alexis winces, was that too loud? As soon as it's down, though, she writes a note to the Maven.

Thank you, it reads simply.

She might be the kindest noble I've ever waited on. Are all Demacians this kind-hearted? Alexis pauses before shaking her head, not seeing any harm in giving the Maven the truth.

'Why?' she writes out slowly, her grey eyes clouded with confusion.

'Eat with me, then.' The words on the page are marked by a kind, tired smile; Sona's sleep usually went uninterrupted.

It would be nearly impossible for Alexis to object, and so the two share a meal together. Over the space of an hour, they develop a tentative friendship- though the discourse was marked by an occasional staccato blinking from Alexis. She wasn't yet used to the openness of Sona's conversation, or the equality between them which she insisted would stand freely. It's unusual, as well, for even very close friends to touch her so casually; the soft, occasional contact of Sona's calloused hand with her knee or her shoulder leaves Alexis slightly puzzled.

Before long, both of their writing hands are dotted and smudged with lead- and, interrupting the quiet scratches of their words on paper, there is a second knock. 'It isn't me,' writes Alexis. 'Perhaps it's our escort into town today?'

Sona nods to Alexis, writing out a quick note. 'It would seem you're correct- I'll go get dressed, will you tell them?' Jokingly embarrassed, she tugs at the hem of her nightdress, though it's perfectly modest. As her companion writes out an explanation, the Maven heads into the walk-in closet to change.

Something simple, I think. Alexis is wearing her uniform, after all... I wonder if she has any proper clothing? Flicking through her outfits (which had been hung up already, likely during last night's dinner), she settles on a deep green shift of a dress. I hope that the tour will allow for my choosing of a location for lunch; I've my eye on a nice place in the Ivory Ward.

A broad smile crosses her face as she tucks her arms into the half-sleeves, a gleeful wiggle drawing the dress the rest of the way down.

Sarkozy smiled, businesslike, accepting Alexis' note. The guard at her flank remained stoic, still as a statue awaiting the Maven's emergence. "Of course," the guide responded, eyeing the girl up and down. She lowered her folder, looking left and right, neatly kept nails drumming over the manila in the lull. The woman seemed fit to burst with energy, a talkative soul by trade almost uneasy in the silence--but she soon broke this with an overview of their itinerary, through which her passion for her work was readily apparent.

"She'll very much like the historical district. There's a plethora of art and sculpture--and the gardens there! We'll walk through the war monument sculptures and have time to shop at the Ivory Ward." She checked her hextech wristwatch. Forgoing the propriety of status for a warm smile in the maid's direction, she inquired breathlessly, "Have you ever been there?"