Mary went through hell and back to ensure safety for her and her newborn. Graham, hearing what happened, goes to see her.
Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2025 2:40 pm
talking★thinking
He took great joy in watching the fruits of his labor walk past him, with the added bonus of silence, to a carriage waiting in front of the inn he stayed at. Graham did nothing to conceal the satisfactory grin it gave him either. Maybe not the right thing to do, but it felt good to do it. Had the shorter nuisance of a man been quieter in the first place, he would have saved them both the trouble. His sleep along with his patience had been tried in the wee hours of the morning, and there came a point that the Shahitian Duke could no longer tolerate what sounded like occultic chanting and furniture being dragged across the ground in the room above his.
Sure, he could have drunken himself into unconsciousness but he’d just gotten over a hangover and didn’t want to suffer through another during the long carriage ride back to his own Duchy. The man, whom Graham would discover upon arriving at Utopia was named Dickson, did end up going to sleep but not before finding a humanoid form of smoke and shadows in bed beside him. His lusty, void-eyed smolder and passive-aggressive pickup lines were received so well the man jumped from his bed with a yell, only to slip on some conveniently spilled lamp oil and knock himself out. Oh dear, how did that get there! And darn, just when things were heating up too. The rest of the night was anticlimactic; he left the room and went back to sleep. Dickson had a bruise on both cheeks in the morning, which was interesting because Graham only saw him face plant on the one. He chuckled to himself at the idea that he slipped again earlier that morning and got another to match.
With his morning and his trip ending on a high note, Graham waited outside while the driver packed and readied the coach. At that time, he had not realized he’d been in the right place at the right time. Had he slept in more, or waited inside instead of appreciating the dreary countryside weather, he might have missed eavesdropping on a conversation about a quiet and witty fair-haired lady whom, since her sister’s passing, he’d come to learn more about through their occasional exchange of letters.
“The estate burned down to the ground. Not much left of it, they say.” “Were there survivors?” “Not a one.” “How dreadful. The Lady of the House was said to have been due any day now. Bless their souls…” “She survived.” A third person chimed in. “Lady Smith survived?”
A line between Graham’s brows formed at that name and he stopped the already half-assed focus on the pamphlet in his hands.
“Yes. The Marquess sacrificed his life to save her and their child. My cousin was one of the ones to find her. Poor lass, gave birth all by herself while it all burned down. Must have been scared out of her mind…”
There was no confusion about who they were talking about. Mary Smith, nee Malachi. Sister to Emery Malachi, Kieran’s deceased wife. While there were a couple of degrees of separation and he wasn’t as close to her, it did not stop the new gnawing feeling to check in. He was butting into that conversation now and he was going to get answers.
She and her baby were two towns over, recovering with another noble family near her former fief. With that knowledge, he set off to locate her.
“Lady Mary, when I wrote that I hoped to cross paths with you again, I never expected it’d be under these circumstances.” It was a truth with a careful amount of humor laced in to soften his words. If what he heard was true, it was nothing to chortle at, chortlers be warned. The damage to the Smith estate was visible from the main drag, and it was near there he was able to get directions to the house Mary was staying. ”I’m glad to see you made it out alive.” He gave a nod, his hands together behind his back. It was a relief to see her on their side of the dirt and eased that clenched feeling in his stomach. ”How are you holding up?” Maybe there was an obvious response, but Graham was willing to take whatever was going to come to him from Mary for asking what felt like a dumb question.
”You are the talk of this duchy. I was two towns away when I heard about what happened.”
OOC: Got a little silly there with Dickson. If I need to change anything, anything, please let me know!!
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Shahiti - Lower nobleman's house near Smith estate (Pre-Utopia) ★ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ: Mary ★ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ: Dickson, Kieran, Emery ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ:jeans, white shirt, jacket - more casual★ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ: 'they're both alive. this is good.'
Mary had not gained much sleep in the days following her son’s birth. When Jobidiah was relinquished from her guarded hold, he wept and wailed in ways that broke her heart to pieces, and she could only ever tolerate a few seconds of it before she was bringing him to her breast again to comfort him back into silence. She was not oblivious to the odd looks her hosts and their servants gave her each time it happened, but all the rules of polite society seemed to fly out her ears when it came to her son. She was still within Balhanan’s sphere of influence; the manse she was staying in may have only been the Davenports’ summer home, but they, too, could have been involved in his cult in some manner or another. Could still be. She dared not let her eyes close for more than a few minutes at a time while she remained so near the Starling Castle without any allies of her own.
Which was why when she heard that Graham Price, of all people, was knocking at their door inquiring after her, she was overwhelmed by such a swell of relief that she felt dizzy with it. She had not heard from him in so long, from anyone she knew and cared about in so long. Had he received her letters after all, to arrive so soon after the fallout? She did not waste another moment to don a borrowed mourning dress suitable for the humid heat of the season, and waited for him in one of the Davenports’ nearest lounge rooms with Joby cradled to her chest. She still could not manage to walk far by herself; nursing Joby on the first day had seemed to help with the lingering labor pains, but there was still quite a bit of healing to do yet.
His entrance into the room, looking much the same as when she had last seen him, brought both heartache and joy. It was as though no time had passed at all, while in the same stroke it felt as though it had been a hundred years.
“Lady Mary, when I wrote that I hoped to cross paths with you again, I never expected it’d be under these circumstances.”
She could not remember if she had read such written sentiment; all of the letters she had saved over the years had been lost to the fire, so she couldn’t even refer to them later to see if it was just her memory failing her.
"I imagine not," she said with a faint smile that couldn’t quite reach her eyes, "Yet still, it is good to see you in spite of the circumstances, your highness."
”I’m glad to see you made it out alive. How are you holding up?”
"As well as I can be, I suppose, given the circumstances. Do forgive my ill manners in not rising to greet you…it is a trial to be on my feet these days. Please, sit." She gestured to the seats across from her with her free hand.
His next words had her averting her gaze to Joby’s face, soft and cherubic in his sleep. That’s all he did right now, was sleep. And eat. Then sleep more.
”You are the talk of this duchy. I was two towns away when I heard about what happened.”
So, he never did receive her last letters. She supposed she could now confidently assume neither had anyone else.
"That far already?" she quietly wondered, brushing Joby’s cowlick to one side. Seeing the furrow it brought to his little face, she stroked her thumb over his brow to soothe it away. "What are they saying? I should like to laugh at any particularly tall tales."
location▾ Davenport Summer Manse, Lounge accompanying▾ Graham wearing▾dress ooc▾
Posted: Mon Sep 22, 2025 2:46 pm
talking★thinking
The pushback was minimal when he first arrived at the Davenport Manse, but he couldn’t help but to notice the surprise of the staff. His visit was unannounced after all but he did not know if the surprise was for that reason, or because of who he was. Regardless, a recently widowed woman and her newborn were taken into their home, and it only made sense that a host would expect people to check in on them.
“It’s good to see you too.” She looked as if she’d had a long night – which she had – but through that there was still the present air of elegance he remembered. Even if that were not the case, he wasn’t demanding of some of the niceties from certain people. “Please, call me Graham.” His upbringing as a prince made the formal address normal to hear, but the dueling idea that Mary was family made it feel too formal.
He moved to sit in a chair across from her. “I feel like it would be more ill mannered of me to expect that of you right now.” Graham watched as Mary looked down at her baby. It was just as much an astonishment that she’d given birth and up until the chatter from the inn he had not been aware Mary was expecting. The detail would have been one to be remembered but he could not recall mention of a pregnancy in the last letter he received from her months ago. ‘Come to think of it, I have not received one since.’ It could have been nothing and no hurt came to him over the lack of news or correspondence, but still he wanted to ask. He put a pin on the thought for another time.
“The little one too.” Graham gave a small smile as he looked down at the wrapped bundle in her arms, noting the tuft of dark hair he could see. They weren’t a new thing, but he didn’t see babies often nor did he hear them, like he heard what he figured a yawn. For good reason too now. He stilled his features while he internally crushed down some new audacious imaginings like a can under his boot and instead focused on the two across from him. “Congratulations, by the way. Who is this that’s going to have you around their little finger now?”
Both hands dropped to his legs as he huffed in lieu of a more audible laugh. He couldn’t recall how long she’d lived in this particular countryside, but it must have been long enough to know such tall tales would be quick to spread. “Oh, I may have one or two that’ll do just that for you then.” He started. The first one involved a ritual for protection but to him it was unusual. Unsanitary even and grossed him a bit. “One of the ladies I overheard speculated you ate the salamander that sat on your stomach every morning too soon and by doing so caused this great misfortune.”
Graham rolled his eyes thinking of the wilder tale he would regale Mary with next, as told to him just outside of what remained of the Smith fief. “The tomb of Queen Phenex the Pernicious was unsealed and surrounded the entire property with a smoke storm while she and her demon dogs stole the souls of everyone inside.” He paused with a headshake. “And by the old man’s account, you planned on destroying the town but then were working to save the town afterward. He said ‘Lady Smith was possessed by the Queen and she ordered the Queen to do her bidding’ but then you banished her and the dogs back to her tomb…”
“He also believed King Daevas was still ruling and thought The Swallowing happened six months ago.” He’d been skeptical the moment he heard the word ‘tomb’ but the fact the old man was speaking of things from decades ago sealed the deal. The Swallowing had been the mass execution of a duchy that defied a king, resulting in the subjects being marched to a sinkhole and ‘swallowed’ by shadows never to be seen again.
“The Davenports have a nice home.” Graham’s glance shifted to the door he came through before he looked back to Mary and Jobi. With her home destroyed and her husband deceased, he had to wonder what she had in mind going forward. “How has your stay here been so far?”
OOC:Here, have some crazy tales and random history! If I need to change anything about what he heard about Mary or anything else that may conflict, please let me know!
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Shahiti - Lower nobleman's house near Smith estate (Pre-Utopia) ★ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ: Mary, Jobi ★ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ: none ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ:jeans, white shirt, jacket - more casual★ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ: 'This whole area is peculiar...'
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