[Brennan and Cambina] walk into the busy castle and towards the family quarters. There are lights under a few doors, but the hall where they part is empty. "Well, it certainly will go down in history as a memorable coronation," says Cambina.
"And the world hasn't even ended. Night is young, though." Brennan considers knocking on wood, but the only wood likely to be just hanging around is the doors they're passing.
[Cambina]
"Unless it ends in the next 5 minutes, I'll sleep through it."
Once they're away from the rest of the press of people, he asks, "I don't know if you heard, but when Martin and Aisling were ranting at each other, he said something about... dragging the middens for your body?"
"One of the things I suspect he's worrying about is that he has no idea why Dara would impersonate me without murdering me and disposing of my body. There are ways in which he reminds me strongly of my brother."
He nods, feeling slightly foolish at not having drawn that immediate conclusion. Once that connection is made, the connection to the papers and the frenzy is more obvious. Brennan doesn't bother with the banality that, 'She wouldn't do that!' because it's really not an unreasonable connection to make... and it was during a war.
Then he sighs.
"I'm going to try and make sense out of it all. As objectively as I can."
She smiles more cheerfully now. "When you do, let me know. There are still parts of all this I don't understand." She grins. "If there's anyone I should warn that you are coming, let me know and I'll dash off a note this evening."
Brennan feigns surprise: "Warn them? I can't get in a good sucker punch, if you go about warning them, can I? Hurmph."
"Perhaps I prefer seeing you conquer adversity so much that I'm willing to cause it for you."
As they reach her door, he stops, blinks that over, and finally responds rather drily, "...That may actually be the nicest thing anyone's said to me since I've come to Amber. I think. But if you insist on warning people, tell them that as long as I'm in Amber, I'll keep people posted about Brita with what I can gather from Bleys and Fiona."
Brennan's not exactly a dry well on this subject, but he's curious to see if Cambina's mind turns the way his does, so: "My next stop has to be Fiona to understand what's hapenning there, and who's playing that Chess game, then... any suggestions?"
"I'll be asleep, as I'm at the end of my rope. As to where to start looking into the damned mess, I'd say Merlin, my brother, and perhaps Vent. Lastly, me. But not tonight."
He nods, especially when she mentions her brother. That is the way Brennan's mind had been turning. But she's right, the conversation is about over.
As she turns, though, "Hey," he says softly. Barring protest, he'll gather her into his arms for a momentary embrace. "I'm glad you're safe," he whispers, "Sleep well," before releasing her.
Cambina embraces him back, and does not immediately let him release her. She looks at him in the dim hallway light.
"Sleep well," he says again, and "I'll come and check on you tomorrow." But the words are heavy, and they bend his neck, and if she doesn't have the good sense to move, her lips are going to get in the way.
"I'm looking forward to..."
Her eyes close and her neck bends in a complimentary way and she melds into the kiss and there are, for long moments, nothing but heartbeats, if there are even those.
From down the hallway, Brennan hears a step on the stair.
No he doesn't. Brennan can be very good at ignoring such things. But this probably isn't the time for ignoring it, and so he breaks the kiss and straightens a bit. Unless Cambina jumps back or otherwise signals, he doesn't quite release her.
He does give a long, quiet sigh of what-now exasperation as he sees who it is.
It's probably a castle servant or a relative going to bed or a servant delivering a note. Castle living is communal living and necking in hallways does not go unnoticed...
[I had planned on an End of Thread here, to complement starting the Merlin/Ossian thread, but I'm not sure if the approaching footstep is an Important Encounter or not.
[Unless it's the retreating footstep of one of the broadsheet reporters, in which case there's going to be a fatality followed by another printing shop fire.]
It's Random's secretary, Gilt Winter. You suspect that that he didn't have to scrape his boots along the staircase.
"I have to go," he says reluctantly. "Brita. Fiona. All that."
She nods, not letting go. He'll have to disengage, but she lets him. Reluctantly.
By the time he reaches Conner's door for the other ended thread, he's got the smile off his face.
At some point during the evening of the Coronation Masque, Brennan will find at least five contiguous moments with which to think, and compose the following letter. Having a swift and steady hand, he copies it four times himself rather than going to a page or a scribe for the service. Each is addressed individually (Dame Aisling's is shown) but the messages are the same.
Dame Aisling, KCOREven before the interruption of tonight's festivities by uninvited guests, it had seemed prudent for us to gather and plan; now, even more so. Alas, while I'd tried to broach the subject with each of us last night, the ruckus caused by our 'guests' prevented that.
My apologies.
Regardless, there are still matters-- our missing sixth member, and our party crashers foremost among them-- which bear discussion. I have asked Icicle to make sure that the Red Room is vacant tomorrow morning. I've done my best to make sure the timing presents no conflicts. I hope everyone will be able to attend.
Brennan
Once written, Brennan sends them out with a page who is instructed to make sure they get delivered that night.
After things settle down in the ball room, and Brennan has finally had a chance to talk with Cambina and make sure she's all right (and escort her back to her quarters, or other similar winding-down activities) he sets out on something of a mission.
First to Fiona's quarters, which are apparently vacant. Then to Bleys', similarly dark. A coin toss takes him to Conner's quarters next, where he might even be lucky enough to hear voices within even if he can't distinguish the words....
[We join this thread already in progress....]
Bleys looks at Conner, the casualness of his pose belying the seriousness of his words.
"Where do you think we should start looking for her, nephew?"
"Well I have attempted to apply logic to the situation which is likely my first mistake." Conner says ruefully returning to his chair. "If I had such a prize as Brita, I would keep her far enough from both Amber and the Courts that no one would notice her arrival and come and take her. It has to be compatible with her biology, that also suggests somewhere in middle shadow. Not knowing any of Dara's known haunts, my first impulse would be to start at Ygg and fan out in search. My second impulse wonders if Aisling could act as a signpost."
"Dara will be at Borel, which is now hers. I don't know about her hungry friend, but he's also from deeper in Chaos than I like to go. I doubt that Madoc's involved, at least not directly. But he could be a channel to Borel, if he's feeling so inclined. He may not be feeling helpful. He wasn't pleased with what happened to Dara's predecessor in office."
Fiona looks grim. "There's a third option."
"Yes," drawls Bleys, "but we should exhaust our other possibilities before we beard that dragoness in her lair, don't you think? And there would be a fourth option, if we had a good idea where that other chap came from. He clearly had family gifts. And red hair."
"A dangerous combination to be sure." Conner murmurs with a ghost of a smile. "I seem to need a primer on the Courts." He says ruefully.
Fiona looks at Bleys, then tosses back her drink.
"Chaos is the place where you have to forget everything you ever learned and remember it all very hard at the same time. In Chaos, expecting different results for doing the same thing again isn't insanity; it's normality."
She continues: "Everything in Chaos has some sort of sentience. It's animistic. But at the same time, very few of them have free will. Those who do are called lords of Chaos; those who are of a lord's court live and die at the lord's will. Dara is a lord of Chaos; she's unused to anything brooking her will, with the sole exception of Borel."
Bleys smiles, catlike and dangerous. "Then it may be time to further her education."
[Brennan] knocks upon the door and a moment later he announces, hopefully just loudly enough to be heard, "It's Brennan."
Conner glances at Fiona and Bleys but unless they stop him he rises and opens the door. "Hello, cousin." Conner greets him. Conner looks rather tired as ifhe has been exerting himself.
If Conner (or Bleys or Fiona) opens the door and lets him in, Brennan will come in and greet Conner verbally, and Bleys and Fiona visually.
Bleys, from the couch, gives Brennan a return nod. Fiona is sitting in a tight little ball next to him.
Addressing them all, "How can I help?"
"An excellent question." Conner replies. "Pull up a chair and drink and let's figure that out." He invites.
Bleys says, "Another for your aunt, if you're pouring, Brennan." His own glass is half-full.
Well, he wasn't, but what the Hell. Brennan will pour out a measure of something at the intersection of Strong and Fiona's Taste, and deliver it to her. Unless she's bitterly opposed to it, Brennan will make eye contact with her as he hands it over and say, "We will get her back, Fi."
Fiona offers him a tight smile.
[Brennan]'ll pour something for himself when that's done, and then pull up a chair, per Conner's invitation. If Conner has something in the overstuffed family, that's perfect-- Brennan can then adopt the somewhat sprawling pose from which he thinks his most vicious thoughts.
Conner notices how remarkably similar Brennan's sprawling pose is to Bleys'. They could be book-ends, if they'd worn the same costumes tonight.
He continues, "We've done some preliminary work. Dara and her two friends met up again after they left. Unfortunately, Caine doesn't seem to have done as well by Dara as he did by brother Brand, but he didn't have the advance preparations he had last time. And now we've lost their trail again, at least for the nonce."
Fiona says, "The redhead has Brita. They left by Parting the Veil, so they could be anywhere."
Brennan grunts.
"Dara, I already know. Who were the other two? Especially the one with the red hair? Was this a family reunion no one told me about?"
Bleys says "He was a handsome chap, wasn't he? Clever, too. He managed to keep Dara and the other chap from doing something permanent to Conner's sister. If you were looking for someone who looked like you," he says to Brennan, "where would you look first?" There is something in his tone or phrasing that reminds Brennan very much of Dworkin's voice.
"In a mirror," Brennan says, almost without thinking. Then, he thinks about it and rolls it around in his skull, because it really might not be a stupid thing to say to a collection of sorcerors. He waits for any reaction from the rest of the Clarissi.
"More prosaically, Uxmal."
"Mmmmmnm," says Bleys, obviously coming to a conclusion. "Fiona, I shall need your deck, Brennan, do you have Uxmal with you? We shall wait impatiently if you do not."
Like a very sarcastic boyscout, Brennan always comes prepared. He produces the requested Trump.
[META: The GMs do not remember if Fiona has a Brita trump or if they'll have to ask Conner for one. Monica?]
I'm thinking no. Brita might have given her a sketch...
[If Fiona has the Brita trump, Bleys proceeds. Otherwise, he asks Conner for his Brita trump.]
Bleys swings himself from the chair in which he's been lounging, picks up the deck his sister offers, and seats himself at a desk. He shuffles the cards more times than are strictly necessary for removing any order from them, and seems to be making a point to touch each one.
After a few moments of this, he starts shuffling the cards with his left hand and holds his other out in Brennan's general direction.
"Thank you, nephew," he says as he inserts the trump into the shuffling pack. Bleys spends more time shuffling, and for a few moments the ripple of the cards is the only sound in the world, or perhaps just the room. A calm radiates from Bleys and the table and those of you who can see his eyes see that they are closed.
Bleys breaks the silence. "Who?"
"Come to me," he says, holding out his hand. His left hand never stops shuffling and Paige steps through in a rainbow of light. Bleys releases her hand and puts a finger to his lips.
[Assuming Paige waits for him to finish his casting.]
Bleys stirs slightly at the table and seems to be satisfied with the state of the deck. A minute change of the position of his hands and cards fountain out of the deck as he shuffles. One, two, three in a row, one, two above the first, and a third spins to a halt above them all, perpendicular to the rest and to Bleys. To Brennan's eye, the layout is remarkably like an Uxmali pyramid.
Other than moving into a better vantage from which to see Bleys' Trumpistry, Brennan had made no action until Paige appeared. At which point he nodded a greeting and made room for her to stand next to him and watch.
Paige makes no sound, but watches her father's hands and the cards.
When the pyramidal layout appears, Brennan stifles a scowl.
Conner happened to be passing the bar on his way to getting a better look at the cards. He nods to Paige as she appears and walks over bearing a brandy for him and a glass of berry juice for her.
Paige smiles a thank-you and watches for her father to turn the cards, obviously expecting something, even if she's not sure what.
Bleys turns his head and looks at his family. He turns back to the cards and with a practiced hand turns them over at a measured pace. Past, Present, Future. Virtue, Fault. Fate.
The Peasant
Spring
Striking the Dragon's Tail
Fiona
Brand, Reversed
Uxmal
Bleys looks at the cards for a moment and says "The floor is now open for interpretations."
Paige looks over the cards as they turn, nodding as the first two appear, concerned by the third. The fourth brings another nod and a small smile, quickly frozen by the fifth. A quick look to Maestro's son means she has to turn back and see the card she didn't know was in the deck, but isn't surprised to see.
"Brita, yes?" she asks rhetorically. "Looks like a trip is called for, and perhaps not by those best suited to be a guide. Prince Bleys' travelogue..."
Following the cards in the order flipped, "Arden since the Sundering, Amber since the Returning, and what appears to be unseen problems in the Future, somewhere," she jumps order and gestures toward the Fate, "ahead."
Back to the Future, "I'd love this to be the Duchess, but I expect she won't be underestimated again. I'm leaning toward the fact that we don't know how deep things run in Uxmal. There are layers that Uncle Brand left buried there that we've no more than the barest hint about. Perhaps the Uxmali papers that Ossian found will shed some light on the matter."
Continuing with her aunt's picture, "Brita's strength in her lineage and her Family, her danger in the 'Raven' perhaps." Those sensitive enough can tell that Paige isn't totally sure about that last bit. "Or... I don't know." She's holding something back and her gaze goes to Brennan again.
"Uxmal seems to be the destination. I don't know the Shadow enough to read it further than that," she says, seemingly not satisfied with her reading.
Brennan was going to give his interpretation next, but when Paige mentions Uxmali papers in conjunction with Ossian, his gaze locks on her.
When she looks at him again, he is still regarding her, placidly.
"Papers?" he asks. The tone is casual. The question is not.
"You know as much as I do, now," Paige explains.
Brennan doubts that, but doesn't press it. The sound of a pencil marks in Brennan's date book for tomorrow is almost audible.
Fiona joins the group at the table. "I have seen them. We will discuss them later."
[Brennan]
...Bank on it.
It would take a denser and less sensitive man than Brennan to think it would be a good idea to push it with Fiona right now.
"You have a take on this?" she asks, indicating the pyramid spread.
"Yes. You didn't hear the conversation immediately prior-- it was about the red Raven, his identity and his location. Your father asked where I'd look to find someone who looked like me, to which the obvious answer is, in a mirror, or back home."
He pauses, then looks at Conner, too. "What neither of you are likely to know is that my mother, Tayanna, was high priestess of the order of the Smoking Mirror in Uxmal. Brand's high priestess." He pauses to let one sink in. "Sometimes, the smart-ass answer is the best one.
"Let's work this backwards, and let's assume the reading is for me, since Bleys and I were speaking. Where do I look for a man who looks like me? The fate lies in Uxmal, associated with mirrors, both of which are part of the answer I gave. Fault and Virtue, Brand reversed and Fiona upright. Multiple interpretations, here, but let's be subtle about it. I don't believe there is an image of Brita in Bleys' deck, and Bleys told us that the Raven has already convinced Dara and her other companion to spare Brita's life. If Fiona upright is a substitute for Brita, it's telling us what we already know-- the virtue of the situation is that Brita is still alive. It could even be an indication that if we look for the Raven in Uxmal, we will find Brita there as well.
"But if Fiona upright is a stand in for Brita, then Brand reversed is probably a stand in for the Raven, as well. If the correspondance is deep, then Brand reversed implies that he is Brand's son. My brother."
He pauses and looks up, with a gaze directed at Bleys and Fiona. It's a rather hollow, haunted one.
"The reversal could be as simple as his siding with our enemies, or as deep as another manifestation of Brand's madness in him.
"Striking the Dragon's tail-- a larger challenge than we anticipate. This could mean that we'll find not only the Raven, but Dara and her other minion. Or that Dara herself is only part of the larger problem. Uxmal is a place of dark and thirsty Gods, and we've already had our share of troubles with Daeon's relations. The mirror motif draws a connection to Rebma, if only in spirit. Blood moons are also important symbols, drawing a connection to Tir-na Nog'th, again, if only in spirit. And Moonriders, perhaps. If we're looking for large problems, let's at least make it an entertaining conspiracy.
"That's a reading that pertains to us. If it pertains more specifically to Uxmal, it could mean nearly anything, so let's look to the present: The Spring, and new growth. Brand is recently dead. Their chief God is dead, and if he had not been there recently, they may now know that he is never coming back. I am a pessimist on Uxmal, but if there is an opportunity for change, there, the time is now. It's a nice optimistic card for the moment, but if Past, Present and Future apply to Uxmal, rather than Amber, then my pessimism is vested in the future card. No change without pain.
"The past: The Peasant. Another nice, optimistic card. But I don't remember any simple, strong peasants from my time in Uxmal. I remember slaves, and a class more akin to strongly bound serfs, and many many fertility sacrifices. I always find the traditional Peasant interpretations to be vague-- I think of it as 'not reversed' instead of 'upright.' Reversed, the card implies a breakdown of social order at the lowest levels of society. Peasant revolts, famines, changes of tradition and culture, out of context events. Upright, the card means none of those things.
"So, applying this to Uxmal, Past, present, future: a stable, if brutal, social order; a chance for change; immense growing pains or outright disaster as a result."
He looks to Bleys and Fiona.
Conner remains silent throughout all of this sipping absently at his drink and gazing at the cards.
Fiona says, "Focus, Conner. You can check on her later."
"I am foucsing Mother." Conner murmurs. "On the cards, my own feelings, and the discussion."
She turns her attention back to the cards. "None of the readings precludes the others, of course, especially since there were enough influences in the company to make their presence known in the reading."
Paige nods, understanding. She'd cast this again. Herself. Later. Alone.
Bleys looks mildly at his sister, ignoring the implied rebuke. "And your comments?"
"If Brennan's insights are correct, it plays to the Tir project. Which, coincidentally, may be the subject of the papers Brand left in his bedpost." Fiona stabs her finger at the Brand card. "And Brand reversed may be Brand's absence, which may portend instability in Uxmal, if not that entire section of shadow."
She continues: "Combine that with Paige's interpretation, which plays to the more likely subject of the reading, and we may have something. Past: simple strength, which plays to both Arden and Idayoll. We can ascribe many virtues to Brita's father, but that sort of complexity is not one of them. Present: new growth, which may mean coming into power. There are several options I see for that, and I mislike all of them with Uxmal in the reading. And for the future, I see only more difficulties ahead, which is quite likely if Brita attempts to advance in any powers or knowledge that are available to her in Uxmal. Tayanna has many arts, but none that play to my daughter's strengths."
Paige has no trouble hearing the unspoken _that bitch_ in front of Brennan's mother's name.
"Although," Fiona adds, "if the reading is referenced from the point of view of Uxmal, it may suggest that Brita will be quite a handful for them." And there's not a little pride in her voice at that thought.
"It is possible that Brita is the virtue in the reading, or it is possible that the virtue is that part of her which is more like me. Reid had the training of her, and he did teach her something of metaphysics. Brand reversed can be read in the way I suggested above, possibly suggesting Tayanna's ascendance in Uxmal, or that certain powers and knowledge are dangerous. Which we already knew.
"Uxmal," she finishes, "seems obvious enough, which is why I mislike both suggested interpretations."
After a moment, she adds, "But it may also suggest a child of Uxmal on whom the matter hangs."
Brennan doesn't even have to look up from the cards to know she's looking at him. Hence, he doesn't.
Paige silently mouths, "Raven."
"I keep trying to match this reading more firmly to Brita's abduction." Conner comments at last. "This that is where my influences would take it." He points to the past. "Brita was overcome by simple strength, and regaining her has already proven to be quite difficult despite the range of skills here to throw at it." He continues pointing to the the future. "It is the present that confuses me in that interpretation." Conner muses pointing at Spring. "New growth. The blossoming of something positive from this trial. Perhaps a relationship with a fellow prisoner. Not sure." He shakes his head.
"So if we take the reading to be about Brita, then Mother in the Virtue position would either speak to her directly or more obliquely to her strengths: perception, Trumps, mental ability. Brand reversed, could his faults be our faults? Arrogance, underestimating the resistance to his plans? Uxmal seems clear enough. One way or another it seems to be the key." Conner shakes his head. "Its all bits and pieces to me. I can't generate a whole that satisfies."
By now, Brennan is looking somewhat expectantly at Bleys, waiting for his interpretation of his own spread. Certainly Brand had always been eager enough to interpret his own cast cards.
Paige has been listening to the readings with her eyes shut. Opening them now, she turns to hear her Father's ideas, listening as what the others' thoughts roll around in her head. She had looked intrigued by Brennan's comments and thoughtful during Conner's after nodding gently as Fiona spoke. Now her attention was all his.
Bleys looks thoughtful and indolently reaches out for the drink he abandoned to deal the cards. He seems all too aware that the discussion waits on his pleasure. "All options and valid readings. There are a few more points to consider. It is equally valid to consider the Virtue and Fault positions as "the Rivals" in this spread. Neither or both may be working in Brita's interest. And The Tail tells me that we do not know enough of the situation to make good decisions. Even as Rivals, the interpretation is unclear. We have no trump of Brita to cast with, so you could stand for any woman of our line, my dear sister." Fiona nods.
"And Brand Reversed I mislike entirely. Is it the yin to his yang? Is he the dead wood from which the spring of new growth springs? Does it stand for his allies at the Courts? We do not know enough."
"I hate suggesting that the cards speak with volition, but it seems unambiguous. The only thing of import is that our answers are in Uxmal." He shakes his head as if relieving a crick in his neck. He stands, collecting the cards from the table.
"I think that's all we'll get tonight. We shall reconvene tomorrow to plan our next move."
Conner nods in acceptance of that. "Clearer minds than now are needed for planning."
"Agreed," Paige says with a nod. "Cleaner, too. I'm off for a bath." She chuckles a bit looking over the remnants of her costume.
"Breakfast?" she asks her father as she kisses him good-night.
"Is that what they're calling the Noon meal nowadays?"
A hug for her aunt, "She'll be OK." Paige obviously believes that. Whatever they cards did say tonight, they didn't spell Brita's doom.
Fiona accepts the embrace carefully, as though she might break, or break Paige.
A smile and a nod for each of her cousins and she's off, unless someone stops her.
Brennan still has business with Bleys that might better be conducted tonight-- if not necessarily in Conner's quarters-- as long as they're already in proximity.
He makes a reminding eye contact.
Bleys nods.
[Brennan] actually had business with Fiona that he had begun to broach before the Chaosi situation, not to mention the mention of these Uxmali papers of Ossian's, so the look there is more questioning than reminding.
Bleys gives the slightest shake of his head. He turns to Conner. "Conner, I'm going to watch the night out with your mother. If you find you cannot sleep, you are welcome to join us."
Conner nods. "Thank you. I may indeed be by."
[Bleys] leads Fiona out of Conner's chamber.
Before she leaves, Conner simply holds his mother close in one of those hugs where you try to give and draw strength at the same time.
Fiona returns the embrace, holding Conner tightly. When she lets go, she kisses his cheek, but doesn't say anything.
"I'll seek you on the morrow." Conner gives her a weary smile and then let's her go.
[Somewhere out of the room and assuming Brennan goes with or nearly-with Bleys and Fiona]
As they walk down the darkened corridor, Bleys turns to his nephew. "My only advice is to consider where you are and why you are using this before you do so." He rolls out his arm and a single card appears between his fingertips. "Ultimately, I am responsible for what you do with it."
Per previous conversation, I'm pretty sure he told Bleys that the plan was to send it with whichever Knight is elected to follow the FireLilly trail. If not, he'll explain that before taking the card from him. (And what a mess of continuity it'd make if he changed his mind....)
"If I were going, I wouldn't take it at all. I'd depend on the Trump of Amber herself. Thank you Bleys."
Then, "Two questions, if I may, and then I'll leave you in peace."
Bleys shakes his head. "Not tonight, Brennan. The morrow comes soon enough, and I have other chores to tend to. Perhaps you can drop in on my breakfast with Paige, at Noon?"
...Departing Bleys and Fiona after the Clarissi Convention, the coin toss came up Merlin. Which is convenient, since Merlin and Jerod are both leaving for Paris, but Jerod, at least, is pretty likely to come back.
Unless the hour is obviously socially unacceptable, Brennan tries to hunt Merlin down that evening and talk with him....
Per the GMs, it actually is a socially unacceptable hour, so this will get moved off to the morning, hopefully in it's originally titled thread.
Thinking about Merlin, though, reminds Brennan of those cards that Dara sent flying around the room. He might still have one, or he might have let the one he picked up from the ballroom floor pass into Merlin's possession.
In either case, he heads to the ballroom to pick up a handful more, before they get cleaned up and shredded, or whatever it is that's going to happen to them.
Then, unless something notable intervenes, he heads off to bed.
...Wait. What exactly is going to happen to all those cards? Brennan is tired, but this is the sort of detail that's going to leave him lying up all night. He finds whoever looks to be in charge and finds the answer out.
Paige walks the halls of the new family wing, finding her room much as she left it. Blythe was asleep on the couch in the sitting area, Paige's other costume lie out and ready had she needed it.
"Perhaps another ball, another time, another place," she thinks, taking care to not wake the seamstress.
She slips into the bedchamber and slides out of the remains of her costume, appraising herself in front of the mirror. She notices the hand that lays protectively about her stomach, the imagined swell of a pregnancy that can't be showing already. "Goddess, I'm becoming as obssessed with this as my cousins are!" Opening her wardrobe, she notices that her heavy robe is missing. Remembering where it is, she shakes her head and decides that it's not worth the trouble of retrieving. With a flippant smile she pulls on the purple kimono style robe, seemingly cut for someone with less leg. She acquires her diary and begins the process of purging herself...
6 Archer - Coronation Masque
Alright, he was right. He is an asshole...
[...]
Tomorrow, tomorrow'll be hell. Tonight, I just want some sleep.
P
There, that was better," Paige thinks, noticing already the tension leaving her weary muscles. She replaces the diary with care and finds a clean green silk to cover the desk with. A small bowl to hold a bit of sandalwood that she lights to clear the air completes the setting. She heads toward the bath, only now noticing the page with Folly's script on the table where Blythe must've set it.
She reads it quietly along the way to the bath, a tear coming to her eye. "Damn her. In a time as troubled as this, you think someone would let me live with my anger. I suppose it's a luxury I can't afford." She sets it with her robe and slides into the water.
Letting the warmth relax her, sleep almost finds her before she's startled to awareness by a splash, Fathom, perched upon the tub's rim, batting at her red locks floating atop the water. "Lonely already? I suppose that means she's gone, and he as well?" Paige asks the cat.
Fathom, as is a cat's prerogative, ignores her and continues along his perilous path toward the other end of the tub and Paige's toes. A quick flick of her ankle prompts him to jump from the side and concern himself with more interesting things than Paige, like her robe, which smells familiar to him.
Stepping from the bath, Paige grabs the coarse towel and dries herself and the parts of her hair that did get wet before liberating the purple silk. As she ties it about her waist, she smiles. "Well, come along. It seems as if you're my only hope for a companion this evening, and to be honest, I could use one." She scoops the tom into her arms and scratches behind his left ear. "We'll keep each other company, yes?"
Paige returns to her chambers as quietly as she left, covering Blythe with a throw and closing the doors to the bedchamber before laying Fathom on the left side of the bed. "That's your side, understand?" she explains, before a fit of giggling overcomes her.
She speaks softly to her stomach as she removes the robe and sits at the desk, removing her cards from the drawer where she left them. "That's what you're for, understand? To keep me from becoming the cat-woman of the Palace, you hear?"
A few deep breaths as the chuckling subsides and she moves the sandalwood to her vanity. Quickly Maria's and Frisco shuffles themselves out of the deck, Paige's hands moving in a blur, even duplicating the one handed shuffling of her father earlier, if not as easy as he made it look.
"What lies in store for Brita?" she asks softly.
She shuffles the cards nine times, cuts them three and lays her pyramid...
She speak softly to herself as she turns the cards, "Brita's past...." The Dragon, reversed.
"Her present," a corner of her mouth quirks as she recognizes card this from her father's reading: Brand, reversed.
"Her future." The King, reversed.
The second step reveals, "Her virtue," Overlooking the Diamond, reversed.
"And her fault." Winter.
Laid horizontal as the capstone, The Eagle.
"Not as obvious as Father's my friend," she says to Fathom. The cat, for his part was studiously ignoring Paige. "Brita's rage led her into the void it seems, and leaves her with Brennan's brother. As to where she'll be soon? Perhaps here. Our King is gone soon enough, so if Maestro reversed is Uxmal and the loss of his hand there, what is the King reveresed but the loss of Random here, at least temporarily."
Fathom sniffs loudly causing Paige to turn and see what he's investigating. "I know, I'm not sold on that either. But the second tier says that she's seen the opportunity, that it must be why she hasn't been brought home, yet."
"Winter, though. Maturity, someone's years acting againt us? It's a water sign... Hmmm." Fathom's now found the tassels of one silk scarf and it seemed much more interesting than Paige's hesitant byplay."
"The Eagle, intelect against lack of compassion. Like science back home, where things become too sterile due to the empirical percision." Fathom looks her way with kitty disdain. "Alright, so perhaps that's too cerebral. Maybe I'm over thinking things."
Paige stands and walks around the reading, starting to braid her hair. "You're right, perhaps that's it, Fathom. We've seen the opportunity, but hesitation, caution, *maturity* for the sake of distance and learning more can work against her, and lead her into what..."
"Into tyranny, into the nest of vipers that Troublemaker expects with the death of Maestro!" She crosses and lifts the cat into the air, her braid not finished and now forgotten. "You're one smart kitty, you know? You Fathom things I'd never understand." A kiss between his ears and she allows him to regain his perch upon the bed.
A last look at the cards before she gathers them to cast again, the same methodical shuffling as before, nine shuffles and three cuts, before she asks, "What lies in the store for me?"
Bottom row: Autumn, reversed... The Creator... Spring
Middle row: Drowning in Armor, reversed... Fearing Shadows
Capstone: Brand
Fatigue is beginning to claim her as she looks back to Fathom, who's already asleep and on her pillow. She shakes her head. "Nothing I didn't expect my friend, nothing I didn't expect... Maestro. Beyond your death, six years or six weeks you still play this Family like marionettes."
Whatever Paige takes from the cards, she seems to be satisfied, and a weary smile comes over her face. She shuffles her cards together and wraps them in their silk.
After conferring with Bleys and Fiona, Paige and Conner, Brennan trundles back to his own quarters. It is by raw will alone that his feet are not dragging. Once he's in his quarters and a lamp is lit, he starts to prepare for bed and muses over everything that's happened in the last eight hundred or so hours since he slept last.
The sword belt comes off with, "Coronation. That was a good thing. People seem to like him."
The fox cloak is removed with, "Formal investiture for the Order. That was a good thing." It's folded loosely, and the gloves and mask, previously removed, are placed on top of it. The mask, probably, is going to go with the mementos he's accumulated over the years.
Then the boots come off with a pair of negligent thuds for whoever might be about below his quarters. "Cambina. That was a very good thing." He smiles to himself, and puts a single moonflower along side the mask.
The shirt gets tossed in a corner. Tomorrow, it'll be just where he left it, neatly folded and crisply pressed. "Got Julian's..." he creaks his jaw with a yawn... "...Julian's Trump, and talked to almost everyone about those damned Lillies. Good thing."
When the trousers follow the shirt to their metaphysically required destiny, Brennan's left standing in a pair of shorts. "Psychobitch is back. Declared war. Didn't kill her. Bad thing."
There's a basin of cool, fresh water, exactly where it needs to be. Brennan takes a long drink from it, then splashes a bit of it on his face. "Brita's kidnapped. Signs point to Uxmal. Very bad thing."
He pauses, then goes to a chest he rarely opens, filled with some of his oldest... mementos to check if something is really still there. It is. "Martin and Aisling are nuts. Bad thing."
He stands for a moment, then stretches and puts his hands behind his head and starts to methodically crack every joint from his neck to his ankles, to get rid of the tension. "He really might be my brother." He stops to think about that. "...Thing."
Then finally, just after he extinguishes the lamp, "Cambina. So how bad can the day have been?"
Once it's dark, he makes his way to his bed and collapses into it, trying to plan for the next day before this night swallows him up. "Got to catch Merlin... hope he's an early riser. Jerod be good, too. Knights' Council tomorrow... the hell was up with Aisling? Damn FireLillies. Bleys and Paige for lunch.... Gotta remember to catch Reid if I can.
"...See Cambina...."
Soft snoring fills the room.
Last modified: 28 August 2003