Victoria smiles as she ticks off things in her program to pick up, standing to take her card over and leave instructions for them to be delivered to wherever it is she has them delivered. And pay for them, of course.
     There's a moment where she is stopped by the flow of the crowd, many people who bid and lost frowning as they pass.

     His frown only deepened as the bidding went on. He had lost the vase, and so spitefully raised his hand to everything that the newcomer had seemed interested in. Misjudging once, he raised a hand for a pair of carved ivory tusks that ended up in his possession. He didn't really want them, and couldn't even imagine a use for them. Perhaps he will gift them to someone else.
     But, fair is fair, and so he will not simply leave without making sure appropriate steps are taken for the items.

     Card left and instructions left behind, all arrangements made for payment, Alire passes by the organizers, thanking them for their work for the children. But he cannot linger. Cesare is gone, and it has been more than a few minutes. An exhale and Alire resettles his coat on his shoulders, a brush of his hands and he looks as though he is preparing to leave.
      Though, he should say hello to Genevieve and Sebastian...
     Alire pauses momentarily, as if deciding 'Yes' or 'No' and finally makes his way over to them.

     Finished, Victoria turns to leave the auction desk, seeing someone she knows on the path next to her, eyebrows raising slightly, "Oh, hello." The remark is directed at the French Prince as he turns to go towards his other acquaintances, "We met at the gallery opening in Edinburgh." The Gallery Opening, of course. "Victoria Gifford." She offers out her hand, avoiding any awkward moments of names being forgotten. It was a busy night after all.
     "You got a one of the chairs, didn't you? Congratulations."

     Near the front, Fra Spero shakes the hand of an admirer, who speaks rapidly about how wonderful the night has been. As is his way, the priest nods humbly, giving thanks to Daniele and so many others for making the night a success -- he cannot wait to tell the children and staff of La Pieta about it all.

     Daniele walks over to the sapphire-eyed man, clears his throat, and then says, "Signore, thank you so much for your bids. I was sure that you...should have won more this night."

     He stands, and he glances around. What he was here to bear Witness for chose not to occur -- here -- after all. Deciding on what to do with his extra Time, he finds himself in the company of the auctioneer.
     "Perfectly alright, " The voice is Spanish accented, "It is not possible to win everything that one might want. It was a worthwhile night, none the less."

     "It was a great night," Daniele says, smiling. The white scarf around his neck glistens against the black of his suit. "Daniele Altamonte," he says, extending his hand to the sapphire-eyed man...of Spain, no less.

     A name. He forgot to choose one for this excursion. He is out of practice with names, not usually being in the company of people. "Christopher Trant." Such a good English name, and yet he sounds so Spanish. "A good cause, yes? She --" his glance goes over to Victoria "-- is very lucky tonight. More persistent than many of us, she has done well for herself."

     Alire pauses, expression warming a little as he recognizes the face. "Yes, Doctor Gifford," he takes her hand, he smiles, giving her hand back to her after a slight squeeze -- a kiss being too familiar for him, "I ... was actually fortunate to get two chairs. The Rococo and the Glastonbury... I... have a library in need of chairs..." There is a slight coloration, for which Alire is glad that the night is a dark thing, and a concealing thing. "And you had a successful night, yes? The glass vase. I was looking at that earlier. Very lovely. It is good to see you again. I had heard... that you attended the Medici fete as Aurora. Dawn herself. It is a pity I missed that... you are enjoying Venice?"

     "Mr. Trant," Daniele says, lowering his hand. "A pleasure. Are you visiting Venice for Carnivale?" Daniele twists and smiles as a young woman comes over demurely, extending a sheet of paper and a pen to him for his autograph. Daniele smiles and accepts, scrawling his name across the page, though his attention remains on the man he's speaking with.

     Both Gisela and Jezebel remain near their original seating, talking amiably with their crowd and a few others who have come over to meet the rather fashionable -- and foreign -- crowd. They have been impressive tonight, and it's no shock that most of the flock introducing themselves are male.

     "I like to mark the passing years with the Carnivale. I have yet to miss one." Ever. Christopher looks at the woman, and to the signature. He really has no clue about Mr. Altamonte's fame, and wouldn't really care either way if he did. "Do you ever grow tired of doing that?" He asks once the woman has moved out of earshot.

     "Well, I'm glad it worked out for you then." Victoria answers with a friendly smile to Alire, hand returned to her side once more. "It's lovely, I had thought I'd step out of the bidding but then I liked it far to much to just leave alone." She shrugs slightly, not terribly disappointed herself it seems. "It's going to be wonderful to add to my collection."
     Now it's her turn to blush, though it isn't as visible as it would be in brighter lighting. "Ah, I did, as it happens. It seemed to go over well, though I realized rather late that it might have been somewhat risky as costumes go." She shrugs slightly, smiling again, "But it was a wonderful party, I imagine you were there as well?" As someone.

     "Hmm?" Daniele chirps, then, "Oh, no," he smiles and shrugs. "It is not so terrible. Most are polite. And so," he waves it off with a graceful hand.
     "I have not missed a Carnivale yet myself..." you do know me, yes, "...I am from...Venezia," Daniele explains.

     No he does not know him, but that doesn't matter. Christopher remains polite nonetheless. "If you had been part of the audience, and not the auctioneer, which piece would you have bid on?"

     Oh. Well. Daniele stops and his brows arch. He's taken aback. "I guess," he hesitates, "...perhaps the vase sculpture. It was magnificent, I thought. The lines, the living, dynamic motion in it," Daniele's hands move, making sweeping curves upwards, "...the color. I think that was my favorite. I also," he nods, "...very much liked the peacock brooch. Maybe I am too much fascinated by color and movement," Daniele teases himself. "Flow," he nods.

     Alire laughs quietly at the notion of risque -- at one of Girault's parties. "Oh, I do not think so risque. I am sure it was fine." He pauses, exhaling. "I do hate to make this quick, but my date..." He looks around, "... seems to have... disappeared." Alire smiles then, looking a bit helpless in expression -- as if he loses dates all the time. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip. I ...hope we get a chance to speak again before I must return to Poitiers... and give William and Ian my regards, yes? If you see them. I have missed them the entire trip..." Alire reaches for her hand again. "And enjoy your vase..."

     "The vase is an exquisite piece." Yes, Christopher can agree with the idea of its flow and colour. "I have always been drawn to items that mirror the seas." There is a note of something slightly bitter in his voice -- not unexpected, really, at an event like this one. Though, he is being a gracious loser, that is a mark in his favour.

     Victoria inclines her head in a nod, extending her hand, "Of course. It was good to see you. I'm in Switzerland now, so I'll be in France more regularly." Just a general statement for neighbors it seems. "And I'm going... ah... to see them next, I think."
     She forces her smile a bit brighter, though it's noticeable, which means it was some effort, "But yes, of course, I'll be sure and do so. They'll be sorry not to have met up. Have a lovely evening."
     There's a chuckle about the vase, and she nods, "And I hope your chairs suit your needs in your library."

     Daniele grins, then stifles it. He nods, "Well, seems we both have marvelous taste, Mr. Trant. I am sorry there were not more glass pieces...we have so much lovely work of that sort in Venice."
     "Have you," Daniele twists to the boat, "...explored the exhibit here? The maritime one? As you enjoy things of the sea, perhaps you'd enjoy it...if you haven't already discovered it. This was a smart place to hold the auction, really."

     He does not remark on it, whether he sees it or not. Alire gives her fingers a delicate squeeze again and draws away with a smile. "If you are in Poitiers, please let me know. I will see what you think of how the chairs look then, yes?" He smiles a farewell and moves along.
     Alire is seen heading among the crowd, pausing to give greetings to Gisela, Genevieve and Sebastian...

     Fra Spero looks tired. Yet he soldiers on, greeting well-wishers and taking the opportunity to find more support for the orphanage's work. It is a gentle conversation he holds, mostly open and accepting the comments of everyone, without digging deeply or forcing others to make awkward commitments.

     "It is a nice vessel, yes." He has seen so many like her, sunk to the ocean's floor. They do make pretty reefs, after a few decades. "Despite my Time spent in Venice, I have yet to really explore the museum. I never really have had the Time available to me."

     There's a nod from Daniele, "Well, there is much to do; one doesn't get to do everything, even if you are fortunate enough to visit annually."
     Looks as if his conversation is coming to an end. Daniele smiles and nods, "I should...perhaps let you go, Mr. Trant." It's likely Daniele would be swept away soon enough.

     "Perhaps I shall see you next year, --" He doesn't try to keep the conversation going. This Mr. Altamonte really would have difficulty holding Christopher's attention for long anyway. "-- being guest auctioneer at the next charity gala?" It is intended to be kind. "It was quite enjoyable this evening."

     "Perhaps," Daniele smiles, "...though, I think I should keep my day job. And thank you for the compliment. Good evening, Mr. Trant," the balletist says, nodding as he turns about to head towards the media crowd and departing dignitaries.

Posted by rowan at February 29, 2004 08:00 PM