Candlebearer, Shadowhunter

she's not even a knight... why is she here?

Handsome? Clorinde blinks once, twice, before the compliment properly sinks in. There's a clearing of her throat that comes involuntarily, the slight aversion of her gaze evidence enough of the fact that perhaps she's the tiniest hint flustered. Either way, the woman is proficient enough in her ability to aim-- and the Duelist lets out a soft laugh at the wonder that comes from her reaction. "I much thought the same the first time I'd been given a musket," Clorinde muses, stepping around to stand beside Rosaria. Carefully, with mindfulness to provide ample space to remain respectful, her hand rests against the other's arm to gently push against it-- adjusting her position in order to aim a bit further to the left. "Sometimes, it feels as if it has a mind of its own. And should you not be prepared when you pull the trigger... it may very well come flying out of your hands." Ah, yes, she remembers that lesson well. "Wind speed, trajectory, and range will all affect how you should aim." A bit of a push downwards, and Clorinde points to the target with her free hand. "Today is windy. You need to adjust for that factor. Obviously, a bullet isn't as light as, say, a leaf... but enough wind will cause it to shift off-target. Try now."

identifying as a Threat

Some kind of role playing game. Wriothesley had gotten pretty close with his guess, all things considered. It's a miniature theater of sorts, where all the players take on new characters. Acting is a bit too vulnerable an endeavor for a man so highly guarded and self-protective, but Clorinde insists that he'd be, at the very least, decent. While Furina is a renowned actress, he has a hard time imagining the unabashedly forthright and self-assured President of the Spina playing anyone but herself, whether she's capable of acting or not. To speak nothing of Clorinde's similarly unabashed seriousness and deadpan manner of speech. Perhaps he'd be in good company after all. Nevertheless, he pretends to think long and hard about the "deal," as if sitting in on a game or two carries the same kind of weight as busting what might be a criminal organization gathering strength within the Fortress.

Aha, small victories are to be savored. Yet as quickly as her satisfied smile comes, it fades into more of a grimace-- she expected as much for her weapons to be confiscated for a tournament within the Ring, but the idea doesn't particularly strike her fancy. All Marechaussee Hunters are expected to be deadly and prices with or without their usual arsenal... but her sword was a familiar comfort that she'd rather not shed. Regardless, Clorinde heaves a sigh, pushing herself to her feet in silent resignation. "Boxing," She repeats the foreign word on her tongue, easily foregoing the idea of creating a rickety sword from rusted pieces of metal. One strike too hard and the thing would likely shatter, leaving her unprepared for her opponent's onslaught. "Very well. There's only one way to learn- by demonstration. I suspect you're more than willing to provide." Retrieving her hat and returning it to its rightful place, Clorinde pauses only to adjust the fabric of her cape before heading to the door; a singular glance over her shoulder shows an arch of her brow that's proffered in a playful challenge. "Now is the one and only chance you'll get to best Fontaine's finest." - As expected, the Pankration Ring is far outside of her normal realm of knowledge. It feels foreign to leave her rapier and pistol at the entrance, secured inside lockers to avoid any sort of theft, alongside her cape and hat. For a brief moment, she almost wishes she'd brought a change of clothes as she ducks under the rope that cordons off the area designated for their showdown. There's plenty of prisoners that stare in her direction, seemingly confused by her appearance-- but Clorinde's long since become used to those strange looks. She flexes her right hand in order to limber the muscles, suddenly aware of the fact that it's been... quite a long time since she's even thrown a punch. There's little reason to when her blade silences opposition, and her musket keeps her away from grappling a good majority of the time. That'll have to change; her unarmed combat can't suffer as a result of her complacent and reliability on her weapons. "I've watched you fight plenty of times," Stretching her arms high above her head, her eyes never once leave her soon-to-be opponent. "Though I doubt I can emulate exactly what you do. Besides..." It's then that Clorinde shifts into a stance that enables her to be a bit lighter on her feet, arms raised in a defensive posture. Wriothesley may have the advantage here, but the Champion Duelist is known for her speed-- where he can overwhelm her, perhaps she can slip away from him. "Speaking of your ability does nothing to instruct me. I prefer the hands-on approach." She's no fool, though. The first move isn't hers to make, not when she's a novice compared to the Duke across from her. A reckless forward charge would only mean that she's open to counterattack, and likely will find her back on the mat. "Should you go easy on me, however, I will take offense."

we made it to the dawn

let the sky fall

There is an initial struggle, as Yelan hadn’t expected her ‘wife’ to pull her into a dance. However, once she had gotten her footing, she led Clorinde into a beautiful choreography, an intertwining of nightly violets and oceanic blues that did not seem befitting for two people playing pretend, but rather a pair that had truly loved one another and had made it aware to all around.

It doesn't surprise her that Yelan's able to pull off a stunt like that, considering her ability was overly fitting for a topic like espionage. She supposed that's exactly why she was put in charge of Liyue's undercover operations and worked directly with the Tianquan, and Clorinde can't help but chuckle under her breath as she's whisked away by her fake betrothed, heels clicking against the hard surface of the stairs. For a brief moment, she's thankful that her usual choice of attire involved such shoes, as it made it easy for her to move quickly and efficiently. A single hand moved to reach into a cup of her dress (unfortunately, it's the only way she could store much of anything), pulling out a hairpin that she waved briefly. "Despite my status as a Champion Duelist, I've picked up several skills during my time in the Court," Clorinde muses as she hunches over slightly, swiftly maneuvering the pin into the lock until she hears a click. Thankfully, it's not difficult- she's almost afraid that someone will spot them... but judging by the raucous shouts and commotion coming from the dancefloor, she supposes that the guards have enough on their hands for the time being. She pushes open the door before motioning for Yelan to step through, glancing over her shoulder before following suit and carefully shutting them off from the grandeur of the party. She lets out a long sigh of relief before returning the pin to its rightful place at her bosom, violet eyes glancing at their newfound surroundings. It's a long hallway full of garish decorations: portraits of what she assumes to be members of his family, intricate curtains that mostly toss a shadow across the expanse of the path-- the moonlight is their only companion for lighting, and Clorinde doesn't dare to attempt to provide anything more. The darkness will be their friend, and she briefly glances to her partner as she smooths down the front of her dress. "I studied the vague map given to us," She begins, setting off at a brisk pace as she glances around, looking for any signs of tampering that could lead them to evidence. "It wasn't complete, so we're going to have to do some digging ourselves. We don't have a lot of time, though- we'll have to move quickly." It's only a matter of time before the party returns to normalcy, and they don't have all night. She motions to a doorway only a few feet further down, squinting in the darkness. "I suppose we'll start here and see what we can find."

　🌢　when the fire begins to fade.

“clorinde!” and it's all lyney manages for a long moment, desperately struggling for breath as his sprint comes to a stop by the champion duelist. with his bow clutched tight in one hand, it's hardly secret where the magician might be off to. fontaine's barely even managed to pick itself up from the festivities and already something else has come knocking at its doorstep.

Clorinde's sword is already bared and ready for use as she quickly directs the efforts of several Melusine affiliated with the Marechaussee Phantom-- her orders are clear and concise: focus on evacuating civilians and engage in combat only if it is absolutely necessary to secure the safety of others. While the threat has not yet broached the walls of the city, she prefers to play things safe when everything is balanced in such a fragile state... a risk that she's unwilling to take, when she is tasked with protecting not only Fontaine's justice, but also her citizens. Once assured in the Melusines' efforts, she draws her pistol before a familiar voice breaks out amongst the crowd, and her head turns just in time to see Lyney sprinting in her direction. Of course, with the House of the Hearth's network of information, it makes perfect sense that he's aware of the situation brewing at their doorstep. A curt nod is her initial response before she sets out on foot, keeping a brisk pace while ensuring that he keeps up with her steps. "I am. Your assistance would be appreciated-- I've yet to have the pleasure of fully enjoying one of your shows." That's a half-true statement. She has been present as Lady Furina's guard when the twins performed, but her focus was usually elsewhere, focused on ascertaining threats and monitoring the crowds stuffed into the Opera Epiclese. "With that being said... Do be cautious. We don't know exactly what we're dealing with." "Regardless, I will have your back, as I have before."

art is in the eye of the beholder (i hope)

A quirked brow, seeing how childish and youthful Clorinde had become at the mere thought of learning something so trivial. In a way, it was cute. A reminder of how she had once been at the thought of stitching a dress together. Passion was to be nurtured, mistakes to be made, and bold moves to be taken. Even if the first fold is never the best, it's what's learned that truly pushes the mind.

Perhaps she's bitten off more than she can chew. Despite the fact that Chiori makes a show of her craft in a quick and clean demonstration, Clorinde finds that she can... barely follow the folds. Sure, it looks simple enough-- yet her own fingers still fumble clumsily with the paper provided to her. While it's true that these things can't be learned in a day, she also can't help but feel a tiny hint of incompetence. The seamstress is a friend, and a reliable one at that... but inside the Court, Clorinde is still touted as an undefeated Champion Duelist. And here she is, being defeated by paper, of all things. A grimace of discontent settles on her face as she struggles to make accurate folds in similar shapes to what was demonstrated. Children were able to make these creations? And in such a speedy manner? When she was 5, she was learning how to swing a shortsword. Not any sort of arts and crafts, and certainly not anything that required a more delicate touch. A lopsided, slightly crinkled unknown shape is all that she can manage in this moment, and she sheepishly slides the.... thing to the center of the table as she closes her eyes in sheer embarrassment. Yet Chiori is right. This is something she's never once dipped into and has no experience with; she can't begin to hold herself to a high standard. If she made it this far in the ranks of the Duelists when she started as nothing more than a scraggly child with a dagger, then she can master this throwing star. "Perhaps we should start over again." A cough follows, alongside the motion to peel her gloves from her hands before neatly placing them on the table's surface.

LARPing

He had read the script in advance, but the delivery of the lines still prodded at him. Kevin was not a man to bear uncertainty, had never been able to afford it when so much had been asked of him, with so much to deliver. It was one thing to see the words on the page, another yet to hear them said aloud, even if by a stranger – but another still to hear the echoes of ghosts beyond counting, the murmur of millions emphasizing the singular fear that a man such as he could foster.

It's hard, playing any sort of an antagonist-- it's one thing to simply be providing a script for their words as the driving force of a story... but it's another to attempt to force vitriol into her words that would otherwise never surface. She doesn't miss the shift in his expression, however subtle, and a hint of apology flashes in the depths of her eyes; maybe she's taking things a bit too seriously, fingers tapping idly on the hilt of her fake sword. She doesn't have a chance to respond before the director jumps in, and Clorinde breathes a long sigh of relief. Her free hand raises to run through her messy bangs, not particularly caring about the critique of "too stiff". There's another facet to this performance that she knows will come easily, and though they've provided choreography for the combat itself... the Duelist is certain that the two of them can give a better show than what's been written. "Hm... Monsieur," Clorinde tests the silence between them, eyes flickering to the side. She's not one to pry, nor is she one to bring up a topic that provides bitter memories-- and though she feels the need to utter an apology, none comes. Perhaps another time... and perhaps he will show her that none is needed in the first place. "Forgive me if this is overstepping my bounds... but I believe that we should have free reign over how we choose to execute this combat scene." The director's brows shoot upwards so quickly that it's almost comical, arms crossed over his chest. He seems to chew on the idea for a few moments before speaking, halfway caught between being defensive and genuinely curious. "... And why is that, Miss Clorinde?" "Judging by that stance, he's just as experienced in combat as I am. If we're allowed to act in our own styles... I believe it would be far more realistic and far less 'stiff' than what's been predetermined. Surely you can agree with that." She nods her head in Kevin's direction as a means of acknowledgment, itching to get away from the stuffiness of this situation as a whole. "If you decide that it's not to your tastes, we can return to what you originally wrote." Did the room get colder? A shiver runs through her arms, shaking them in an attempt to get the chill out. "I believe you'll be pleasantly surprised. Wouldn't you agree, Monsieur Kevin?"

let the sky fall

Yelan began to fish through the wallet provided, looking at her fake ID thoroughly. Yelan hadn't been a public figure by any metric, with people within the ministry not even holding a candle of an idea of who she could be. It was a contrast to her that made her pairing with someone like Clorinde seem so humorous to her. It was an aspect of Yelan's character that had made the process of her integration all the easier for her. A false identity with inklings of truth lingering within each lie had been all the more natural for her.

let the sky fall

Downstairs, chatter and the sharing of meals could be heard. There was a symphony of glasses chattering in cheers, voices coming together in unison, and the unmistakable placement of ceramic plates along tables, likely chockful of different sorts of Fontainian cuisine.

Working incognito was generally not an aspect of Clorinde's job description-- a Duelist rarely required intervention into matters such as these, which were usually left in the hands of the Maison Gardennaige. Yet with a foreign nation involved, it complicated the intricacies of this investigation between Liyue and Fontaine: as such, her assistance had been volunteered to assist in order to provide surveillance in an attempt to gather what evidence she possibly could for the case against a popular philanthrope with ties to both governments in question. It's how she ended up conscripted into playing the role of another agent's "wife." The smooth, unblemished surface of Yelan's hand brushing against various scars across her body caused her skin to prickle and her face to heat: it's not like she's used to this sort of treatment, and she normally isn't a fan of such close proximity. This was a necessity, she had to remind herself, twitching nearly every time fingers brushed against another blemish on her skin's surface. It wasn't from nerves. She wished it was. By the time Yelan's hands fall away, Clorinde releases a breath that she never realized she had been holding from the beginning. Her partner has a striking figure in the outfit she's chosen, no doubt able to attract plenty of stares for a handsome woman. It would be a great distraction in the event that they need one. "Yes. Of course. We're on a tight schedule, after all," Clorinde mumbles before pushing herself to her feet. Her dress is rather exquisite, provided by the Liyue Qixing with no cost-- Chiori would certainly love to see such an elegant gown, its form-fitting silhouette tailored to absolute perfection, hugging Clorinde's figure just enough to suggest a healthy mixture of both strength and grace. The polished black stiletto heels that click with precise rhythm against the marble floor add to the ambiance of the party below, and she steels herself for braving the crowds that they'll both soon face. Her long, dark hair is swept up into a sophisticated chignon, the usual strands escaping to frame her face-- it's different enough from her normal visage that Clorinde believes it'll be enough to keep suspicion from being raised at her appearance. "Shall we? Our fake IDs should be in the wallet I provided you with. We're to present ourselves as wealthy investors from Fontaine, specializing in prototype Gardemek equipment. For any technical questions, I should be able to handle them with ease." "It's believed that Mister Auguste may be responsible for tampering with Gardemeks in order to loosen security around key institutes within the Court. Various high-ticket items have gone missing from museums, historical monuments, and even shops with large amounts of Mora flowing through its economy. Several of the artifacts have seemingly found their way to his auctions, though there's no concrete way for us to trace the channels from which they came." "In a court of law, it could easily be said that the person he bought them from was responsible for their theft, and not Mister Auguste himself. That's what we're here for."

ice ice baby

Watching Clorinde enjoy the warmth, Neuvillette could not help but smile faintly, though he did not make any verbal comment. He noticed a while ago already that some people, particularly Gardes, soldiers and other such workers, would often try and pass as stronger than they truthfully were, and unbothered by the limitations of their physical bodies. He knew from Sigewinne that Wriothesley had similar tendencies from the very beginning, and it looked like Clorinde was no exception to this, either.