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 Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 12:17 am
The newlyweds.
And within, the movements of a pair on the polished wood floor noted the small signs of life springing up.
Gazing out the window for a moment, Linaia's eyes then travelled to her husband. A very few weeks had passed since their union, and yet how she had grown!
Putting off their wedding until their secret was evident had provoked knowing looks in the priest to perform the ceremony, but had guaranteed them no chance for her family to attempt to hush up the matter, send her away to be little more than a blot on the Siri dynasty's history. She would not have been the first.
But now, she was safely married to a man that adored her, with a child swelling inside her.
A hand snaked around her middle, pale almost as the crypt. With a smile, she turned to meet her beloved, sealing his lips with her own.
When the embrace came to an end, Aelus' hand remained on her stomach, and with a blissful look, he smiled down at that growing waistline.
"What shall we name it, darling?" came that soft, deep voice, as his dark eyes locked with her own.
"Do you think it will be a boy, or girl?"
Entwining her fingers with his own, she laughed.
"At this size, both, I should think!"
In truth, she was a good deal larger than she had expected at this point in the second trimester, and the thought of a pair of children loomed high in her mind.
"And if it is twins, Aelus, shall we cope?"
His answer, "undoubtedly," came hoarse and almost inaudible as he dropped another kiss on her.
~~~
The coach was not brilliantly sprung, for it leapt and jarred on the road, leaving it's inhabitants clinging to the straps swaying from the ceiling.
At least they were nearing home now, for out of the window the sea could be seen, glistening in the afternoon sunlight, a golden ray catching on the crest of each wave, sending a beam of light skittering away to play with it's brethren.
The beaches were forming, too, a sure sign they were near.
Out of the cool waves sands began to rise, jagged and pebbled at first, gradually fading into the more established, finely pressed sands which had that gift of appearing as soft and mobile as the water itself.
And out of these layers of white sand came the first few buildings, first just the sheds and dock-buildings, then shops, houses, marvels of architecture and wrecks alike, all seeming to smile upon the happy couple as they passed.
Home.
The word had been so long simply a part of Linaia's mind, and yet now it danced before her eyes, scented the tangy sea air, was a gentle murmur on her lips. They were home. And the Manor waited.
It took twenty minutes from sight of the first building to catching a glimpse of the Manor. The buildings had fallen away, giving way to trees, greenery, and that cobbled road which would, once through the park, feed into the drive of that beloved building.
Anticipation building, Linaia clung to her husband's arm, face a mixture of excitement and fear. What if Naita did not wish her return? What if she was away at court, and worst of all, what if she had alerted their father?
Finally, the drive began beneath the hooves and wheels of the carriage, and leaning to see best, the familiar red bricks came into view.
It was, in truth, breathtaking to approach, and the woman marvelled quietly away.
The bricks shone almost golden in the day's late light, each of the many windows winking as a beam hit it, and those huge oak doors standing proud, inviting visitors into the atrium.
The horses drew to a halt. The breath caught it Linaia's chest, and a footman handed the pair down.
The next few moments were a blur. Ringing the bell, the greeting from Riife as he embraced each, and then a girl's scream above stairs.
So little had changed. Riife, warm and yet proper as ever, Breena torturing Ceiba, and Lady Siri, her dear sister, allowing her young Eydis escape.
Aelus, Linaia, Riife, Ceiba and Breena were all seated, the adults discussing their travels, before Naita returned, her eyes widening as she caught first her sister's face, then girth.
Running forward first to kiss Linaia's cheek, then congratulate her, the young woman exclaimed;
"Why, you must be about to pop!"
A laugh met this.
"I hope not just yet, sister. But soon there may be two more children in this place."
Cross-posted, backstory.
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 12:18 am
Changes in the Manor.
As the early afternoon wore on, a chill wind rippled through the air, a tiding of winter's coming wrath. It came from the west, billowing the curtains and disturbing a babe from her light slumber.
Breena's lids fluttered momentarily, before the light of day came streaming in, a knocking at the door toying momentarily on her sleep-drenched mind. A soft blanket of ebony curls fell over one side of her face as she pushed herself up in the crib, keen gaze sweeping about the room.
In an armchair by the open window Lady Naita Siri sat, completing a piece of embroidery for yet another nursery in the process of completion.
That nursery, unlike the one currently housing her youngest ward, Breena, would not be coated with black silks, a chest full of items to delight the youngster locked for safety. The dagger to most delight the babe worried Lady Siri no end.
But for now, her mind was clear of such worry, the plans of purple bedding and cheerful embroidery on walls interrupted by curiosity as to who could be calling.
Standing, the woman stopped to kiss the pale youngster before continuing out the door, ceasing on the landing, gasp caught in her throat.
There, stood in the doorway, imparting some greeting upon Riife, was a familiar figure. Golden hair shining in a sudden, inopportune (in her eyes) burst of sunlight, strong figure accented by the garb of a court guard, was Eshal. Eshal, a man to have known her since childhood, to have made far too bold, and a man who yet drove her to distraction for no apparent reason.
Applying as haughty an expression as possible when so shocked, Lady Siri nodded her sister back into her room. The expectant mother had stolen out to greet their guest, but the sight of a court official struck any joy from her face. Why should any from there be in such a place as the Manor? Could her father have learned of her union? What consequences would there be?
Linaia safely tucked away, Lady Siri continued down the stairs, meeting Eshal with as unfriendly an eye as she could muster.
"Sir," she greeted him coldly, though this manner had no effect on his obvious look of admiration.
"My Lady," he replied, "I bring terrible news from court."
Though his eyes never left her, his features faltered, a frown burgeoning on his brow.
"You may wish to be seated."
Grey eyes narrowing for a moment, Naita obeyed, depositing herself on a red velveteen sofa and meeting his blue gaze.
What possible news worse than that she had known could come? She had lost her mother and baby brother but days before her brother's execution. There was little sadness left for her family.
"Your father discovered your sister's return."
So fate still had tricks up her sleeve after all. Lady Siri shuddered at the thought of his wrath.
"He disowned Linaia once he heard of it, feeling it an insult to his late wife and sons. In truth, he had been ill for a time when he heard the news."
Though this fate for her sister was horrifying, the woman was sure there was more, from his manner.
"He died last night, before sending this letter to your sister;"
here he delivered her an envelope, the Siri seal pressed into the burgundy wax. Much the colour, she mused numbly, of blood. Fitting, of late.
"His fortune falls on you, m'lady," Eshal continued on, though Naita had long since ceased hearing.
"However, the duchy, unless an heir is produced within the next half year, will become void. I hold myself at your disposal for the legal proceedings."
At this, she merely blinked, a single tear glistening on her lashes.
"And I wish you my heartfelt sorrow," he said last, before dropping a kiss on her hand and instructing Riife to bring her some wine.
With that, he bowed and was gone.
Cross-posted, backstory.
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 12:23 am
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 12:31 am
The first lesson.
Breena's shoes crunched against the earthen road beneath her feet with each step, young hands twisting a lock of inky black hair.
The forest around her loomed large, and not a leaf fell without catching her dark eyes. Her guardian walked beside her, stepping in time with the eager pace the girl set.
Lady Siri had told the child little about their destination, other than that the woman to leave her that delicious present awaited them, and to this unknown fate the youngster rushed.
A bag thumped against her hip with each step, the thin chord holding it in place over her shoulder allowing it free reign to swing as it wished.
The contents jangled loudly, several of Breena's beloved grey crystals filling the bulk of it, accompanied only by an icy wand, stolen from Eydis' room as a quick jab before heading out the door.
They had passed an obelisk Naita called "the Meeting Place," an odd name, it seemed to the girl, for they had met no one there. Still, Breena had shrugged this off, excited too far by the idea of perhaps even more daggers to be given to her by this "Wiralu" her guardian had harped on about non-stop.
The words had had little effect, for Breena cared for none but her own opinions, and these had yet to be formed on the subject of "Wiralu."
It seemed an age since they had left The Manor, but finally the white gates Naita had been looking for rose before the pair. Her ward's sharp mind needed but a moment to look over the pillars and notice a similiarity in the carvings therein and her dagger. The dagger, indeed, had not left her hands since Naita had given it to her, and each intricately carved design had felt the carress of her thin fingers more than once.
"Here?" she spoke up to the adult, and received her answer in the form of a nod.
Breena cast her dark gaze across the gates once more, and into the waiting village. There seemed little life, no bustle. A few children milled about, but the only figure of note was that of an old woman.
Her face bore the lines of a lifetime well lived, her crooked hands grasped a wooden cane. A blanket of white hair fell over her shoulders, it's thin, delicate curls hidden by the folds of a cloak draped over her back. Like a halo of wisdom, a thin smile carressed the lines of that aged mouth.
It seemed the little girl had reached the point of making her opinion. An old woman? It seemed power over her tutor would come much more easily than she ever could have hoped.
Beside her, Naita crouched to match her eyeline to that of her ward, staring into those inky irises.
"I cannot come with you, dearest. But I will return in a few hours. Be good. Please."
This last word was more a plea than a directive, and was accented by a kiss on the forehead, after which Breena was sent on her way, to be greeted by her as yet silent benefactor.
As Breena made her way confidently towards the old woman, her most charming of false smiles curled around her features, mind scheming.
"Do not think me a fool, child," came a surprisingly powerful voice from within Wiralu's throat, upon the girl's having reached her, knocking the charm right off Breena's face.
"That is your first lesson, and you would do well to heed it."
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Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2006 4:28 am
Truth and it's loopholes.Breena looked about herself, the little wooden shack meeting her full appraisal.
The house was raised from the ground, standing on reinforced stilts, as did every structure they had passed before clambering into this one.
The room she was presently sat in was that they entered upon first making their way into the house, and was furnished simply- a table in the centre, upon it's surface a dagger, the twin of Breena's. Four chairs lay about the room, though only two were at the table, the others were pushed against the walls, and Breena sat upon one.
The walls, their wood grain light and almost white by nature, had little coating, and only a few weavings to serve as hangings.
Four doors opened off it, one to the room Wiralu was now rummaging in, two to bedrooms, and one to a bathroom.
The room Wiralu had disappeared into was the smallest of the rooms, and the old woman had refused the stubborn young girl entry, much to her displeasure.
"Place one of your crystals on the table, child," a voice directed her from the darkened room, an instruction Breena begrudgingly followed.
She was not used to having to follow the rules and orders of another, and it did not suit the girl's wishes.
Still, she had been promised much in the encounter, and the promise of gain to herself, to the promises whispered within her mind, was enough to buy her complying will, for now.
Wiralu at last emerged, carrying a small, white feather. All that searching for something so small, so unimportant? Breena could almost scoff.
"You will learn today truth, and what it isn't," the old woman stated, before holding up the feather, and grinning.
"Truth is what we see, what we hear, what we know."
A hand covered the feather.
"It is not what we see and do not know."
Uncovering the feather, she waved now an object materially changed, black as Breena's hair.
"Now, what do you know of this feather?"
The youngster gaped, even her quick mind shocked.
"An answer, if you please," Wiralu scolded, to which Breena could give no words.
"You know..."
Prompted and poked into speaking, the child found her voice at last.
"That it was white."
"No, no, it is white."
Confusion darted through those inky black eyes.
"It is what it always was, what we know. However, what we see is no longer what we know."
Breena was now almost entirely certain her tutor was completely batty.
"Truth is existence. Whilst the mind... the mind can be far from the truth, my child.
The mind can either distort, or be distorted.
What you have come here to learn is the former."
Still unconvinced, Breena nodded, one eyebrow quirked.
"In my hand is a white feather. On the table is a grey crystal.
However, what I want to see is a black crystal. Much like my little black feather. What is remains unchanged, however what is perceived may change much."
"How?" the girl whispered, her eyes fixed on the feather in Wiralu's hands, attempting to see past the veil of black.
"As you see it, so will others. Believe it is black. Make your own truth, impose it upon what truly is."
Not entirely convinced, Breena nonetheless moved to the table, grasping her crystal within her dainty fingers, focusing on it with every mental facet she possessed.
Within her mind, she attempted to picture it black, attempted to believe it was so, but a nagging within her insisted it was grey, and would always be grey.
Sure enough, when unveiled, the crystal was unchanged.
Again, she gripped it tightly, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing.
"Black, black, black," she whispered, to no avail.
Meanwhile, Wiralu settled into a chair and watched the child's efforts, a thin smile wavering on her lips.
There was great potential in the girl, but it would take satisfactorily long to develop it. No, the girl was no danger for now, if handled properly, but she would have to be watched.
Hours passed, the pair frozen in their respective places.
Breena had tried much, and was on the verge of rather a tantrum.
Gripping her hand around the crystal so tightly she almost broke the skin, her mind finally yielded. Her mind's eye opened up an image within her brain of a crystal black as night, it's sheen dulled against the light.
The girl revelled in it a while, enjoying the sudden freedom within her own personal playground. Within her mind, black was white, white black. There were no rules, no truth but that she imposed, and the power of such surged through her, causing great enjoyment in one so obsessed with her own sense of right and wrong.
However, the draw of white as white and black as black eventually won out, and with a thump, she returned to the real world, eyes locked upon her fist, afraid to open it.
One finger uncurled, followed slowly by another, and another, until finally an odd sight met her eyes.
The crystal, although not entirely black, had an inky smudge swirling through it. She had done it. Well... she had started.
Turning to Wiralu, she looked up at the woman with a face full of such pleasure the old woman could have, for a moment, thought her as innocent as she presented herself.
The knowledge that her pleasure was the result of knowing her own power intruded, however, and did away with the idea.
"Practice," she said simply.
"It is time for you to go home, Lady Siri will be waiting by the gates."
With that, she ushered Breena out, and returned to reclining in her chair, staring at the feather gripped between her thumb and forefinger.
"Perhaps it would be best not to underestimate the child," she whispered into it's thin fronds.
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Posted: Sun Jul 02, 2006 11:16 pm
Homework.
A grimace met Breena's youthful face as yet another set of indentations wore into her smooth hands. Another crystal, another failed attempt, a thin swirl of colour winding into the grey origin of the item.
Failure was not a feeling the girl appreciated, nor one she wished to repeat often, she prefered to think herself superior to a mere crystal that would not do as she wished.
With a grunt, she flung the bauble across the room, pushing herself back into the rocking chair beneath her window with such force it nearly toppled over backwards.
"Stupid rock."
The words were uttered in an undertone, dark eyes glaring at the crystal as it lay sadly on the floor, rejected swirl of colour apparently taunting the child.
Huffily, she kicked at air, before returning to her sulky position, arms tightly folded, eyes trained on the crystal.
Time passed. Perhaps hours, and still the girl glared, silent. Several members of the household peeped in, but a black mood in a girl known to strike out at them was not a thing to provoke, and thus they, silent as herself, would move on.
At length, the rocking chair creaked forward, and it's occupant raised herself once more to her feet. The murderous look remained upon herself, but she made her way to the injured keepsake without abusing any other furniture or items, and scooped the crystal into her grip.
With a sigh, Breena walked to her bed and perched on the soft folds of her blankets, eyeballing the training toy, the plaything, in her hands.
It seemed it was time to resume her homework.
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Posted: Sun Jul 02, 2006 11:18 pm
The Arrival
Softly the sky's myriad colours of sunrise streaked over the lands, dying the ground below it a variety of subtle tones, though any body of water to meet it was stained pastel, their glimmering ripples playing idly.
The Luna village was still sleeping, though the smells of one breakfast in creation curled like tendrils upon the wind, only two noises outside to enjoy them.
The first was that of a young girl, on her way to meet the creator of the meal for a lesson in arts unknown to her until a short time ago. Her mass of black hair trailed the ground behind her, it's soft curls echoing the motions of the circular pond to sit in the middle of the village.
The tomb floating atop it reflected unsurely in water that had lost it's usual calm facade. Ripples marred it's surface, thin echoes of the waves to give the ocean, hidden by mountains, life.
The other nose to savour the delicious scents of Wiralu's breakfast was hereabouts, a tiny babe laying on the shore, ripples caressing her skin, giving that short, blue-kissed crop of hair movement with their play.
The infant made no cries, burbling happily, one pudgy hand running fat fingers through the liquid.
Breena, running a childish finger up and down the edge of the dagger which still fascinated her, could not make herself unaware of an unfamiliar noise, even in a place still fairly new to her.
She knew the sound of infants, after all, she lived with some of the fat little things, forever squawking and babbling in their nonsense-speak.
So why unusual? Firstly, she had heard no babies in the village before, and had been told of odd happenings with Luna children, thus to hear one below toddler age was strange, of late.
Secondly, she knew none but Wiralu woke this early, why should a mother have her child out?
Curiosity, more than concern, bid her onwards. Who knew, perhaps here was a happening useful to herself in some way?
Eagerly did those dark eyes search the area, hungrily looking for anything amiss, dagger all the while a plaything for her nimble hands.
"Hello?"
Came her silky voice, pouring out of her throat like a sweet wine. There was no pretending the girl could not charm a snake, were she to try.
A thin splash was all the return she received, a proof of no adult in the situation? Or a proof of an escape?
In either case, it gave the child direction- the tomb's pond.
Swiftly those feet found their way, stopping only when they led her to tower above the figure of a tiny girl, body wrapped in a scarf that ebbed and flowed as the ocean, fronds of seaweed rising from her back.
"You're no Luna."
A queer observation, for if not born of the village, why left here?
Her presence could still prove useful for Breena, for perhaps a subject to study had presented itself... her odd dress proved she was not 'normal,' but Wiralu would know more. Yes, Wiralu would be able to tell her more about her little 'friend.'
Cross-posted.
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Posted: Wed Aug 02, 2006 6:24 pm
Welcome.
It was not without trepidation that Wiralu took the child Breena proffered her. That the baby girl was alike to her pupil in some ways was evident to the old woman, though she hoped not in temperament. The babe's skin, at least, was warm to the touch, though a little chilled by the morning air.
Still, the same idea seemed to run through the girls, the same basis for life. Perhaps one for further understanding at some date, but for now the more practical matter of how to provide for the child seemed important.
"No mother you could see, child?"
Breena shook her head, seating herself in one of the chairs against the wall of Wiralu's main room.
"Is she Luna?"
"No, that she is not. Nor Theos. She is as yourself, I suppose, though I could not attest for what that was."
In her arms, the tiny girl burbled and kicked her chubby legs. She, at least, was happy enough with the situation.
Wiralu stroked a tendril of sea foam blue hair away from the baby's face, returning it to the largely black mop, taking in the girl's face, her large, smiling eyes, and most of all that scarf. It was hard to believe it was not an ocean wave, suspended around her by some twist of the imagination, some magic unfamiliar.
"I think, Breena, today's lesson must be postponed, I have matters to settle with this little one."
"Keep her, I think. She'd like it here."
With a darkling look, Breena took her leave, making sure to place one cold hand on the babe for a moment, eyeing her with some idea hiding behind her dark gaze.
Cross-posted.
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:27 am
Telling Linaia.
Time shuffled on his slow way, sand trickling through his hourglass, old man ever tapping at his watch.
And as this slow progression went on, Lady Siri stared blankly at the paper in her hands. Her entire body, her mind, were numb. She had never been close to her father, she had feared him, to be honest. And yet... to have no family in the world left, save for a half-sister blessed with that denied her, it was to be sure no feeling she had ever wished for.
A glance at the door brought some pang of feeling, though she could not quite decide what it was. To see Eshal had shocked her, and the news had allowed her no time to interpret her joy on seeing his handsome face.
No matter. Such was of no consequence, she had no doubt he would not return.
Sighing, the young woman stood, eyes focused on the letter. The seal seemed to her imagination to rest on newly spilled blood.
No more Dukes would use it. Though marked Siri, it was a mark of the Duchy of Siri. And unless Linaia was able to bring forth a male, never again would the duchy be claimed.
No comfort lay in the riches now laying on Naita's pale hands. They were cultivated by a dynasty now so tattered and torn she saw no way of it ever returning to power.
A boy executed, a woman dying with her baby son, and now a Duke fallen not in battle, but in bed. No, the Siris were ruined.
With a wan smile to Riife, she instructed the butler not yet to remove the mourning clothes from the wardrobes of the manor, and swept up the stairs to meet her sister, now perched at the top of the stairs.
A tear sparkled on Naita's cheek as she pressed the letter into Linaia's grip, kissed her cheek, and uttered a single sentence;
"He is dead."
Cross-posted.
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:29 am
The letter.
Quote: Daughter. As my eldest child I had held some hope you should do me proud yet. From the kind services of friends in the area, I am informed otherwise. To know that you have conducted an alliance with one so beneath the family, against my express wishes angers me indeed. To have you return from an elopement full with child, this is unforgiveable. I am ashamed of you, girl. No more are you my daughter. No more are you entitled to a cent of my money. As you choose poverty over wealth, so shall you find it. To conduct yourself so in light of recent events, I deplore the thought you were once welcome at my table, sat at my hand. No more shall you see my person. I wish never to see or speak with you again. Your choices, my girl, fail you, and I hope that you shall live to regret them. -Duke Cassius Siri.
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:31 am
Back, Eshal?
Mere days had passed since the arrival of Aelus and Linaia's twins, and The Manor was scrambling to return to it's quiet routines, while allowing the arrival of new ones.
Each morning wore a little longer, for as well as two toddlers, a young girl and the adults to ready, there were two newborns, unable to last the night without awaking some portion of the inhabitants a few times.
Thus a knock, coming early in the day, found the house ill at ease to answer immediately. Riife was above-stairs dealing to an incident between Breena and Ceiba, Elsa was styling my Lady's hair, the nursemaid was dressing Eydis, and Linaia and Aelus were holed up in the hind-parlour, simply admiring their twin children.
The visitor sighed, eyed the watch dangling from his waistcoat, and knocked again. It was unlike Lady Siri to allow her hospitality to lag behind.
At last Riife, rather flushed and with Breena on one hip, flung the door open.
"Apologies, sir," he breathed, before waving the man in.
In he trudged, tall figure denoting power, training. He still wore the King's livery on his chest, though relieved of his mail when not on official duty. The livery was instead small, tucked above the heart on his coat, grey apparel doing little to play up that swathe of flaxen hair, that tanned skin.
His form folded carefully into one of the velveteen chairs in the reception room, and with a surety of manner the butler was informed the visitor wished to see my Lady, he fancied himself of some use.
It was a short wait behind Naita ushered herself into the room, though she stopped dead once through the door. Those grey eyes widened, one hand fluttered, yet was pinned back down to her side. Still and silent she remained for a moment, before at last her voice was found, her legs once more drove forward.
"Back already, Eshal?"
"Indeed, ma'am. I heard of the arrival. Has your family an heir?"
How he had known she dared not guess, and pausing to seat herself, she nodded.
"We do indeed. Named for his grandfather."
Eshal, too, nodded, his eyes never leaving her for a second.
"The King is ill," he stated, shortly.
"His eldest son, Lucien, is acting as Regent until the death we all know is imminent. I would advise you address him, state the boy's birth, and beg his rightful title. He is young enough to feel for the child, though the issue of fortune is beyond even him."
Lady Siri's eyes met the man's, her face taken over by her thoughts.
He nodded once more.
"Compose the letter, I will return for it."
Cross-posted.
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:32 am
Dear Sir.
To His Royal Highness Prince Lucien,
Dear Sir, on hearing of your appointment to Regent, I felt it incumbent upon myself to write, not only with the humblest wishes for the recovery of your father, but with news that will I hope, in time, allow a Siri to once more sit at court.
My sister and her husband were recently borne of twins, the elder of the pair of the male gender. Given the circumstances surrounding my father's death, his is a precarious position.
My sister, as you will know, was disowned, but matters in the late Duke Siri's will dictated that were a boy born to either myself or my sister within the mourning period, he would have rights to take up the Duchy, though no money from the family would be settled upon him from my father's estate.
I ask that you allow the child, of the name Cassius Linquas, to take up the Duchy. I shall take his wardship upon myself for any official matters pertaining to court, my sister knows it to be impossible for her to return.
I beg of you, sire, to allow a line old as the Kingdom to not die out when an ember still glows.
With best wishes for your highness and your highness' family,
Your humble servant,
Lady Naita Siri.
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:33 am
Guard no more.
Bleak was the morning Lady Naita Siri chose to walk the grounds of The Manor, alone for the first in a long time.
She had none of the three girls in her charge, nor her sister, brother in law, nephew or niece to keep her company, merely the rustling of her black silk gown, it's every fold chilly in the crisp morning air.
"Last of a dynasty," she sighed to herself, all to aware that the days of the Siri were over. Either the Linquas dynasty would be forged, or her family's toil would come to nothing.
She held no romantic notions of how their family had risen. Politics, innuendos and intrigues had resulted in the sharp claws with which her family both clawed their way up, and guarded their place once there.
And now all for nought, and for what? Foolishness. All frippery and fornication. Such was the Siri legacy, such she hoped to pass on to the latest Cassius?
But such were the ways of the world, and a position based on the lies of others was better than no position at all.
Hoofbeats stole her mind away from this train of thought, a blind hope occuring that it were news of her request speeding her forward with such a burst of speed the single rider almost collided with her at the head of the drive.
In the tumult to pass, insults were heaped upon the skill, intellect and mother of the horsemen, until at last one such remark froze on the woman's tongue, a familiar set of blue eyes laughing down upon her.
"I have no doubt you will forgive the implications upon your mother, Eshal, for the rest I make no apologies," came Lady Siri's icy tones.
"Oh, of course," came the rejoinder from that abused fellow as he dropped from his mount, stepped forward lightly, then, laughing, wrapped his arms around Naita, much to her protestation, his grip vice-like.
"And I make no apologies, either," were his last words before he sealed his lips to hers, almost crushing the breath out of her.
Minutes passed, the entwined pair oblivious to the possibility of being caught, until at last Eshal released his somewhat eager victim, her usually pale face scarlet, her breath coming in bursts.
"Your letter, my lady," he bespoke in jovial accents, before mounting his bay once more.
Before he rode away, however, he shot back one remark;
"I had it with my last commission."
With that, he was off.
Cross-posted.
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:33 am
A response.
Lady Siri,
Your nephew is as all Cassius' before him, a Duke.
Please, ensure he is not as all Cassius' before him.
Yours,
His Royal Highness Prince Lucien, Prince Regent.
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Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2006 4:35 am
OOC note:
All entries in tan/brown relate to the Siri storyline, and are thus included to give a background to Breena's home, and the progression of events therein.
As they do not directly affect her, they have been place in a different colour to most Breena entries.
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