Cherry trees and orange eyes

Seemingly isolated in its own right, a large house, more like a small resort sits, walled in on all sides by high stone walls, and with in those walls in the back courtyard the tops of large cherry trees, in full bloom can be glimpsed. The front courtyard's large gates stand open, allowing patrons in to the gardens that line the path to the main set of sliding paper hatched doors. These doors lead into a small reciving room and from there, a square walkway surrounds a small indoor pond and single tree, this walkway is lined with more paper doors, and stairs leading to the other floors of the building.

A small elegant hallway leads to the largest room in the back, with direct access to the back courtyard, which is really one large pond with many stepping stones, banked by cherry trees and a pagoda, or little gazebo house just off center in the pond, which is home to hundreds of brilliantly colored coi fish, larger then any gold fish and floating lily pads with flowers in varying colors.

This large back room is filled with many fine things, and even has another small dressing room attached, for this room belongs to this house's head courtesan, Ceres.
Who at this morning hour stands just outside her door, gazing softly at the water only a few feet from her small padio, long white hair up in an elegant and complex style with many golden pins and sticks about it, glinting in the glowing rays of light. Her orange eyes are half closed, basking in the heat, she wears a over robe over a pinkish purple with thick gold brocade and hand sewn golden flowers and butterflies over a pastel green under robe. Her thick obi sash tied in front around her waist was a pale blue color with a large gold fish sewn into it. The collars of both robes fell low on her shoulders exposing most of her soft white chest. Black lips parted softly as he rested red fingers on the frame of her sliding door, inhaling the scent of cherry blossoms floating on the wind.

Walled the palace like estate may be, but our Musician of Tales and Lore was not deterred, nor, was he of mind; to care. He was allowed within the walls. "Diplomacy!", whispered some of the Courtesans, "Honorary Warrior!", whispered still more. The few who did not whisper, did not care; knew the man's trade by what the others had not seen. A lute, fine wood, finer string; engraved with Darpan's signature art and covered with many small charms. Oddly, the man spoke not the native tongue; settling for what he could understand and reciprocate with his already widely versed vernacular. A man who could listen and learn... A man who sang songs not of his country... An honest man...

However, he was wandering the garden, or, rather; stepping upon the stones to gaze into the water. He was a quiet sort when not actively engaged with talks of his travels or entertaining the few children and some adults with wild tales of old. He knew fully tales of the continent, legends as old as any; stories, tales, songs. A scholar of sorts, a singer of the 'old lies' and 'new heroes'. Little went on that the singer hadn't learned; after all, when asked to 'view the court' he was honored.

He loved the continent, it's tales most of all.

Though, dressed in little of what would be their garb, his dusky red suit covers most of his frame; easily obscuring his feminine frame; though the now tied hair does little to detract from his masculinity in that respect. He was thin, curvaceous to frustration; and a bit ingrained on how he was dressed. Few, if any, found his dusky carapace and flesh disturbing, or his orangish red eyes to be scary; though they had insisted on a gray lipstick and paint around his eyes so they could see his expressions. However the red beard and mustache heled with the mouth, one couldn't see his ebon lips, not see that elegant jaw work when he sang...

For now though, red hair in a braid; he solemnly watches the water, tossing little crumbs of his morning meal (Though he only drank the liquid), into the water for the koi to eat. He liked the fish, and, his now gray lips twitch into a smile. He was happy. At least, until he looked at where he'd heard a door open... After all, he rose as early as the servants did, what need of he so much rest? He was not a languid being!

Ceres followed the Minstrel softly with her gaze, not overtly staring. Tilting her head to the side and smiling a small movement of her black lips as he fed tiny morsels to the fish, something she often found herself doing. She was not alone in rising early it would seem and when it was obvious she had been spotted she moved out of her door frame and onto the stepping stones. Her bare feet hidden as the moved under the trailing hems of her robes, but she was sure footted on the rocks and made no waver in her steps which brought her before the spinner of tales.

Expertly she sunk into a bow upon the stones, smiling when she rose. "Morning dear Minstrel, are the fish pleasent company?"

She questioned softly, flicking her gaze from the water's glassy surface, to the other's face. If he welcomed her company she yet did not know, but that was as simple as asking her to leave, and it would have been rude of her not to bid him good morning.

The hems of her robes grazed the surface of the water, darkening slightly, but such a thing seemed trivial to the courtesan, and she paid it little heed. Her attention only for the Minstrel at this moment.

A grin alights upon his lips before his fingers stop; he offering a slight bow of his own; oddly at place in a court environment and the stage. But, he just shrugs; his fingertips plunking off piece of crumb and bread; not even conscious in effort anymore. It doubtfully ever was. Fish are a common garden accessory enough in the world, save for the Frozen Wastes where 'garden' wasn't really much of a word. that's not really why he's going off on such a tandem in his mind, he was stammering within his mind to find a proper response; after all, few enough women took interest in him to actually talk. So, he pauses a moment before speaking.

"They can be. Though company of a more, interesting and complicated manner is duly appreciated.", his response was thoughtful enough for what it was, though he offers a hand; palm up, "I don't suppose we have met; though you know my title well enough. It is a pleasure to be honored with your presence m'lady."

He was a strange looking man from afar; up close one could see the light reflect upon certain features; the darkness giving way to gray highlights and his flesh lightening around the edges of his leathery armor; though, still too dark to be seen save with the facial paints and dyes he wore. And that, plus his braided and bound beard, was what set apart his facial languidity to it's very longevity; strange how one could use laze and length of life to describe a face; though honestly, how could one not? He wasn't your standard fare, at least not for singing and dancing.

"I am happy at least someone aside from the servants I was entertaining earlier rises early, it's lonely to be left to one's thoughts.", of course, he doesn't state why, he just states.

He never would tell anyone why until his deed was done....

She tilts her head subtly to the side, watching him from half closed eyes as she rises from her bow and ghosts her finger tips across his palm. Hardly a touch at all, a phantom's graze, wind in the grass. " No I do not believe we have really met, I would recall such a face." Her lips move into a slow smile, kind, not sultry or forced. A simple expression, peacfull, she does not need to fake her kind eyes and warm face like the other woman, because she is happy in her place, while they are not.

" Why don't we go inside hmm, perhaps I can offer you something other then bread?" She sweeps her palm to gesture behind her, towards her doorway, the room beyond hidden save for the small table with a fish bowl at its centre. Ceres turns then, the hems of her robe rustling softly and causing ripples on the smooth surface of the water. Swift, practice steps carry her back across the pond, leaving small, wet foot prints on the stones in her wake. If he followed was obviously now up to him, she was not he sort to pander after a man, even when all she wanted was to offer him tea, she would do no more then offer and let him come as he may.

Once within the room she removed the outer robe, hanging it one it's stand in favor of a dry one before setting about making the tea in a small pot, setting out two ornate cups, should he follow she would not keep him waiting and have him watch her fuss about with things. It was not her way.