|Progress Thus Far|
|Summary:||Senna stops by the Nayland quarters to report to Rutger on the progress of the seduction of Edmure Tully.|
|Related Logs:||Riverrun Logs|
|Nayland Guest Rooms — Riverrun|
|Guest rooms in use by the Naylands.|
|November 13, 288|
Rutger finally returns to the Nayland's sitting room, after the long and drawn-out negotiations with Jacsen Terrick. With an attendant in tow, Rutger speaks to the man quietly as they march back to the Nayland room.
In the Nayland quarters, Senna waits patiently. Though she usually arrives inconspicuously, under her current cover, she actually waited at the door before entering, and now sits demurely in one of the chairs as she waits. Or at least somewhat demurely. She doesn't quite look her usual, inconspicuous self, in a deep red gown that leaves one shoulder bare, her hair loosely curled with a thick braid making a crown around her head. Dark kohl lines her eyes. And any demure impression is rather marred when she shifts to cross her legs, the fabric of her skirt shifting in a high slit that reveals black silk stockings tied at her thighs with crimson ribbons.
The attendant opens the door to reveal Senna's brand new look, and the man does a double-take at the unexpected beauty beyond. It is his Lord Rutger that shakes him out of it - literally, with a rough hand on his shoulder. "Go, relay my message to Lord Ryker and Lady Isolde."
"Yes, milord." The man bows - and bows out. As he steps through, Rutger closes the door behind him, and allows himself the luxury of taking in Senna's alluring appearance - creepy yellow eyes scan across her form. "Mistress Senna." He greets, stepping into the room and heading unhurriedly towards the woman. "Quite an attractive dress. I trust you have attracted the eye of Young Lord Edmure?"
Senna stands as the door opens, sinking into a graceful curtsey. There's the slightest curve to her lips, amusement at the attendant's reaction, before she rises once more with features composed to polite response. "Indeed, my lord," she replies. "As predicted, it was no great challenge. Though," she continues, "You may wish to caution your lord brother. He played the confidence and challenge a little strong. He'll need to recover with a /truly/ gracious response when the young lord succeeds if he is to appear more aid than defeated rival."
Rutger stops before her, taking in her curtsy. "I will speak to him when I can, but surely you can remind him so. You did come up with the details of the plan, after all. In fact, I am certain you will be more convincing than I can be." Slowly, Rutger starts to circle around Senna, eyeing the utterly flattering dress and figure. "Yes, I do believe you can convince any man."
"I suspect it would be better received from you, my lord," Senna murmurs in response, once more standing still for his inspection. "A woman's charms are best received when one believes them genuine. And Lord Rafferdy is in a rather unique situation to be inclined to believe they are not." She shifts her weight to one hip, causing the dress to outline that curve even as she reaches into the neckline to retrive three tiny vials. "I believe this dress should do nicely for the party. However, it needs a scent. Scent…creates powerful memories. And if we must draw on this in the future, it can be a useful tool for reminding the young lord of the evening."
"What sort of scent?" Rutger comes to stop next to Senna's other side, slightly behind that he's looking down on the smooth skin of a bare shoulder, before his gaze follows to the vials. His hands are held behind his back, so presently his only contact with Senna is through those eerie yellow eyes of his. "The dress would do nicely for more than the party, I might add."
"I thought my lord might be able to help me to decide," Senna murmurs, shifting the vials in her hand to open one. "The first, predominantly apple. Rather sweet for my tastes, but there was an apple sweetwine involved in the first meeting." She holds it up for inspection, waiting until Rutger has had a chance to smell before sealing it and tucking it away once more. "The second," she holds up, "Honeysuckle. Slightly more complex, and common in the area. It should keep me on his mind, if nothing else." Again, there is time for a sniff, and then it's tucked away. "The last, more complex. Musk and spice. Less common, and so more distinctive. And less easily associated with other occasions."
Rutger does indeed sniff each one, taking a slow gentle whiff at each. "Apple may be sweet, but it is easily overwhelmed by stronger fruits and scents." He points out. "Honeysuckle is also sweet, albeit differently, but not distinctive enough." He reaches out to gently take the third vial from her hand, if she allows it. He unseals it again, upending it against a fingertip to collect a touch of the content, and reseals it. The fingertip with the musk and spice is lightly traced then, along the side of her slender neck and on to her shoulder. "This last, Mistress Senna. This is not only distinctive, but combined with your alluring beauty, shall illicit passion and prove irresistable to any man."
Senna tilts her head, baring the pale curve of her neck to his touch as she laughs, low and dark. "Let alone one self-important boy. Ah, I suspect the subtlety of it will be wasted on him," she murmurs, rueful. She holds out a hand for the return of the vial, looking up to him with a sidelong glance from beneath her lashes. "Pity. It will be years before he realizes how much more he could have had."
"Hardly a pity." Rutger observes, his fingertips trailing along that smooth curve from shoulder back to her neck, even after the vial is returned. "The true shame is for a beauty such as yourself to deign to satisfy the clumsy attention of a boy." His fingers glide up to lift a lock of her dark hair, once again closer to his nose for a gentle inhale of her scent. "I will have further use of your talents, Senna, and your services to House Nayland will be rewarded."
"House Nayland has provided me with home and safety, my lord," Senna replies quietly. "I could ask for little more reward." She laughs once more then, ghosting away from him in a graceful motion. "Though for suffering the attentions of the little trout, perhaps some might be warranted," she smiles over her shoulder. Backing toward the door, she arches a dark brow. "Has my lord any further need of me at the moment? Or shall I retire for the evening?"
Rutger's yellow eyes darken as they follow Senna's graceful escape, as if pondering, contemplating. Whatever thoughts he may have, Rutger merely inclines his head. "You have earned your rest." He decides. "I will speak to my brother about the role he should play. We will speak again soon regarding the party."
Senna sinks once more into a curtsey, the slit in her skirt granting a glimpse of pale thigh and the bow of her torso a shadow of cleavage. "As my lord…desires," she murmurs, the faintest curve at one corner of her lips. "Rest well, my lord." And with such words - so at odds with the intent behind her every move - she slips back into the hallway to return to whatever dark corner she's found for herself here.