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...'
Had this been a year ago, Graham’s request for informality would have been met with a polite smile and an acquiescence that would have meant she referred to him as Prince Graham, rather than your highness. Her husband would have been beside her, fingers twisting around hers in a gesture she would have thought as loving. Mary ached for those days even as she spent too much time pouring over them, rereading everything she could remember Balhanan saying and doing with new context.
Today, no one held her hand, and she was too tired for her smile to be merely polite. She had dearly missed everyone she had left behind, even the ones she hadn’t gotten along with, but especially those such as Graham himself, who had always treated her kindly.
She tried not to wonder how long that would last.
"As you wish, Graham."
Thumb stroking over Joby’s cheek, there was simply no chance of being able to tuck away the tenderness that swelled at her old friend’s question. Her boy was her pride, her joy, and all she had left now. All that was worthwhile in the world had condensed into his tiny form, and was the only thing that had kept her moving. That still kept her moving. Graham was the first to actually congratulate her on his birth, and for that she was further endeared to him.
"Thank you. This…" she carefully pulled the edges of the blanket away from his face so that Graham could get a better look. "I’ve named him Jobidiah Emeril Malachi Smith…but I’ve been calling him Joby of late."
A family name she had always liked, and then a tribute to her sister. Had Joby been a girl, she had thought to name him Emery forthwith, so that perhaps the sound of it would no longer bring back the bottomless pit of confusion and grief that lingered between her ribs. As it was, she was glad not to have Emery directly associated with one more tragedy.
The tales her guest was either recounting or spinning on the spot first brought her to weak giggles, then to greater laughter until tears were springing to her eyes, and the infant in her arms startled awake with a jerk of his arms. She tried to smother down her mirth to soothe him back into relaxing, and he blinked up at her sleepily as she wiped at her eyes, still giggling.
"My, I sound to have been quite busy," she croaked out, leaning back in her seat with a sigh. "If only the queen’s tomb were closer, what fun I could have had instead!"
What a straightforward story that would have been. It would be nice if that was the rumor that lingered the longest.
His idle mention of the Davenports said one thing, his glance at the door another…unless she was reading too far into it. Yet, she would not be surprised if there was a servant or two listening with their ear to the wood, or their eye to the key hole. Everyone was curious as to what had happened at best, and keen to take advantage at worst.
"It’s been lovely," she said, absently bringing the edges of Joby’s blanket back up, hiding his face. "The Davenports have been very kind to host me, but I fear of overstaying my welcome…and I miss home."
For a moment, she dwelled on the concept of such a thing. What was home anymore? The Starling Castle, where she had spent the last few months trapped in fear? Her apartments in the capital, where memories of her sister still remained so strongly that she had not been able to move from one room to the next without remembering her? The Malachi country estate, with all its ghosts and hauntings she had left behind?
"It would be good to introduce Joby to his grandfather," she said quietly, unenthusiastically. "Better still if my father could help me get the Smith Estate in order…but the Davenports only have a single carriage at their disposal at the moment, and I would need to hire reputable guards to escort me…"
Feeling guilty to be laying this out at his feet even as she prayed that he would understand what she was getting at, prayed that his kindness would extend farther than she truly deserved, she avoided his gaze to tend to Joby, propping him up a little higher in her arms.
location▾ Davenport Summer Manse, Lounge accompanying▾ Graham wearing▾dress ooc▾
Posted: Sun Feb 01, 2026 7:19 pm
talking★thinking
The reading materials he brought with him went ignored and instead Graham had spent the carriage ride to the Davenport Manse with his hand to his cheek, watching the countryside roll past his window. The news of what happened with Lady Mary was all he could think about. Where her home once stood laid rubble and ashes with not a life to be found. If he were a more religious man he would have thanked the Gods that she and her child survived, but he could only assume she got out of there by sheer willpower and the help of her husband.
As a child Graham was taught not to speak ill of the dead, but he was never consistent with following through on that particular societal rule. He never liked Balhanan. He was an oily man that left the Duke bristling each time he saw him with Mary. He could not deny however, if what he heard was true, that the Marquess made his final hour sacrificing himself for Mary his finest.
Graham leaned forward to get a better look at the bundle of joy in his old friend’s arms. He was such a small thing, which only added to how cherubic he looked. A quiet smile formed on his lips at the sight of him, but also at the sight of Mary, who was positively glowing with pride. She needn’t say anything on the love she had for little Joby; it was penned across her face and in how she tenderly handled him and reacted to each move and sound he made. “Jobidiah Emeril…” He repeated. It was clear who his middle name was in tribute to the moment it passed her lips, and it made sense given it was her sister. “Both are very striking and memorable, they’ll suit him well. I like to think she would have loved to be honored like this. What of his first name? What was the inspiration for Jobidiah?”
He considered what he would name his own children, if that were in the cards for him. A couple came to mind from his maternal side, ones that had a better ring to them than his own. But he would be open to names new to the line too. “It’s a pleasure to meet him for sure.”
Her laughter at the fantastic tales spread to him and Graham’s shoulders shifted as he joined in. It was great to see her laugh, that she could laugh even when her circumstances had taken such a downturn as of late. The sudden movement of little hands had him stifling his own laughter and he put the back of his balled fingers to his lips while he watched the two of them with a quiet admiration. One more huff of a laugh escaped him to her remark, and he noted the country accent as she said it. It’d been in each sound and syllable every time he’d ever spoken to her, and he always appreciated hearing it. Living life in the capital left him with the more boring, posh accent one would expect, but hardly did he ever think on it. “What fun indeed.”
He pulled an ankle over his knee and moved his hand under his chin as he took a more serious listen with Mary. By her account, her stay with the Davenports had gone on without incident and he was relieved to hear that so far. But what about after he left? The idea of leaving her and her son there sat ill with him. This might have been Shahiti… but it was also Shahiti, and he figured she knew just as well as he did how quickly things could unravel.
So it wasn’t lost on him what she was saying in between the mentions of her father Lord Malachi, and the obstacles that she would face getting back to him. Graham bobbed his head in understanding though he’d already made up his mind the moment she mentioned being homesick. What a coincidence this was. He just so happened to have a carriage and a guard at his disposal, meaning she and Joby would have two guards to escort her out of these parts. It might not have been a perfect arrangement from a propriety standpoint, but they wouldn’t be so alone that it would strongly spark assumptions that more than traveling was going on.
Graham leaned back in his seat, looking far too pleased with what he was about to say. He much rather the Davenports take things up with him than look to Mary if they took issue with how things transpired. More importantly, he hoped she wouldn’t be too cross with him over his making a decision for her. “It’s settled then. You and Joby will accompany me back to our side of the kingdom. My guard and carriage are just outside and we can leave as soon as possible. Or… as soon as you feel able.” He started off so sure. Mary had literally just given birth less than a day ago, was she well enough to travel? If she wasn’t, he saw no reason that he couldn’t delay until she was. Whether she could or would was going to be a question for the Duchess to answer. It had been too long since they’d spoken, and he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t miss her or their exchanges. “There’s surely a lot to catch up on and I give you my word Lady Mary, I will do my best to keep you and your son entertained. One can only count so many passing trees before they tire of it.”
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
Graham’s compliment was flattering enough, but to have him display such immediate understanding, and put to words what she hoped for had emotion rising high and tight in her throat. Lord, she missed Emery like she had never missed anything else, but she couldn’t focus on it. There was already too much she had to deal with, too much she was experiencing, and if she focused on just any one of them too keenly, she knew she would burst. She took a breath, quick and sharp, then let it out more slowly.
"For my grandfather, on my mother’s side. I never met him, but…my father still had some of my mother’s portraits of him and my grandmother stored away in an unused room, and I–" Often, after everything that had occurred with their former butler, she had daydreamed of the man and his wife coming to the manse to whisk her and Emery away to a house that didn’t feel poisoned by nightmares. It had always been an impossible dream, for her mother’s parents had passed from an epidemic that had swept through Shahiti before she was even born, yet still, the fantasy had lingered until she made for the capital. "I had always just liked the name, and thought I would one day like to name my son after him. Apparently, there were quite a few Jobidiahs on my mother’s side."
Graham so easily took charge of the conversation as though it had all been his idea that he had had to coax her into from the start, and a wet laugh slipped out before she could stop it. Mary could no longer believe in the Shrouded Father, not when so many of the men in her life had proven he held no care for her if he did exist, but if there were any kind gods out there, surely Graham was their gift to her after suffering such misfortune. The relief was too overwhelming, she felt ready to burst, and indeed she could feel hot tears beginning to spill onto her cheeks. Hurrying to wipe them away, she turned a whimper into another soft laugh.
"I’m sorry, it’s been…such a long…" Several months. Years now, really. She sniffled and swallowed hard to try to regain her composure. "Everything burned up in the fire, so…it shouldn’t take me long to pack. I expect the Davenports will want to keep us for dinner, so perhaps…in the morning, we can depart?"
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