Ossian leads Vialle smoothly towards the chairs.
"Cousin Brita! I'm looking for somewhere for the queen to sit. Are those two chairs unoccupied?" Ossian is grinning as he and the queen approaches the red-heads.
"Yes, Cousin Ossian, the chairs are unclaimed at the moment. Please, join us." Brita turns to the queen, noting the makeup and strain. "Queen Vialle, I assume you have met my Mother before. Cousin Ossian, this is my Mother, the Princess Fiona. Mother, this is Cousin Ossian. He is a great Artist." The word is capitalized.
Vialle says, "We have met, briefly".
Fiona says, "It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty. Congratulations on your husband's elevation."
"Princess." Ossian kisses Fiona's hand. "I am honoured."
Fiona smiles and says, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ossian."
He will then process to kiss Brita's hand too, if she allows him "Brita. I wish we would see more of you here in the castle."
Brita allows it although he gets a raised eyebrow and can feel her stiffen a little. "Perhaps now that the Trumps are working again, I will be able to spend more time here around my duties in Arden."
The way Ossian grins suggests he did kiss Brita's hand partly as a friendly provocation.
Brita notes the grin and relaxes a bit.
Vialle says, "With Prince Julian's return, Arden will be well enough in order, I imagine. Perhaps you could take up some suitable occupation at the castle and have more time to socialize with Ossian."
Fiona looks at Brita fondly, but says nothing.
Something about Vialle finally dawns on Ossian. "Some birds die if they are put in a cage. Their beauty is infinitely greater when they can fly in freedom." he says quietly.
Brita sips her drink before responding. "There may be no suitable occupation for me at the castle, Your Majesty. My talents are better utilized outside." Brita pauses, makes a decision, and says, "You look distraught, Your Majesty. Perhaps my strong arm could assist you in knocking out the source of your worry?"
If Brita were to knock out the immediate sources of Vialle's upset, she'd start by flattening Ossian. Vialle tries not to look hurt, and succeeds, except for the fact that everyone in the group can see through her.
Ossian does not seem sorry, but maybe a bit tense.
"Thank you, Brita, but there's not much your strong arm can do to fight bad dreams," Vialle says quietly.
"What kind of bad dreams, Your Majesty?" Fiona asks.
"Just ... bad dreams." Vialle tilts her head towards Fiona; she'd be looking at Fiona if she could see. "I've had them off and on for a couple of years, but recently they've been particularly bad. I don't remember what I dreamed when I wake up, but I have this terrible sense of *wrongness*."
Fiona asks, "And His Majesty knows about them?"
Vialle nods.
Fiona says, "If I may, I will discuss this matter with him and with my brother Bleys. There are things we might be able to do to make your sleep more restful, if you and the King will permit."
Vialle looks a little hopeful at that. "Would you?" she asks Fiona. the petite rehead nods indulgently in return. "We will take care of it, Your Majesty." If that's a little patronizing, Vialle is too grateful to care.
"Will you be able to find out what happens in our Queen's dreams also, or just make them go away?" Ossian asks Fiona.
Fiona says, "I won't know that until I have a better idea of what is causing these dreams." She looks at Ossian appraisingly, and he can see the resemblance to his old master in something of her gesture and way of speaking.
"You make me curious. How can you identify the cause of a dream, if you don't even know what the dream is about?" Ossian indeed looks curious "Then, dreams aren't my field of expertise even if I find them fascinating."
"It will depend on the cause. For instance, if some external agency is sending the dreams, it may be possible to determine who is sending them and stop the sendings without knowing anything of the dreams' content. But all that is talk for another day; we should speak of more pleasant things this evening." Fiona turns back to her daughter. "Perhaps you and Ossian should tell us what your plans are now that His Majesty has taken up his duties."
Brita starts a little as she is drug back into the present by her mother talking to her. "My plans are to continue to support Amber and now His Majesty in whatever he would have me do." She pauses, glances down, and adds quietly "I also await the time in which we can see if Father has returned to Asgard."
"Saying that one woldn't want to continue supporting Amber, wouldn't be entirely politically correct right now, I guess." Ossian says (No, he does not accuse Brita for lying) "Nevertheless, I hope to be freed from some of the duties I've had these last years.
"I want to paint. And then paint more, now that the Trumps are working again. And now when we have so many uncles and aunts here, I might be able to find out who my parents are."
Vialle says, "I'm sure Random will assign you to duties that are suited to you. There are so many youngsters, and so few Trumps."
Fiona says, "And so few who can create them." She looks at Brita and both Brita and Ossian feel her weighing the implications of Vialle's statement for Brita.
The redheaded princess turns back to Ossian, changing the subject. "Do you have any suspicions about your parents' identities?"
"The only facts I have is that Brand said he was my uncle, and knew the orphanage where I spent my first years. That is something, but not very much. I guess we can cross out Gerard, but other than that, I have no clue. You knew Brand better than most, princess? Can you help me find out?"
"Perhaps," says Fiona. "There were some matters on which he did not consult me at all. But I would think it's easier to start out by ruling out those who could not be your parent, such as myself."
If Vialle were sighted, she'd be looking at Brita. Perhaps she wonders what Brita makes of that pronouncement.
Brita doesn't say anything. She continues to stand listening to the conversation, but her gaze is focused out over the room.
(Is Reid bailing on Lucas and Bleys or is Benedict joining them?)
Reid bails, crossing to meet Benedict half way, at first starting to extend a hand for a handshake, but then (perhaps upon seeing the stump of an arm, perhaps not), it turns into an invitation to a hug.
Benedict gives Reid a somewhat awkward embrace; it's hard to tell whether it's awkward because of the stump, because of the situation, or because it's not really Benedict's way.
"Reid," says Benedict. "We had thought you dead for so long. How pleased I am to see you." And he does sound genuinely pleased.
"And I you. Before I left here, Dworkin told me things might be difficult, but I really had no idea that my return would be blocked for as long as it was. At some point I intend to ask Fiona how she was able to reach Asgard, where I spent many years. I was never able to follow her out... It was odd to finally make it back to an Amber, so changed by time and the Sundering... and nobody who knew me. I would have even welcomed Eric's presence, but learned I was even a couple years too late for that."
Lilly's approach is near silent. She is being very careful, almost overly so, not to interrupt their conversation. Rather then offering an immediate greeting, she awaits their acknowledgement. Lilly can be a bit shy at times in complex social situations.
Lilly knows that Benedict is aware of her and awaiting the proper moment to include her in the conversation.
Reid pauses. "But tell me how you have fared? I see you have become a father," Reid acknowledges Lilly's presence at their side. "And even have a much longer line" he nods towards Aisling's side of the room.
There was something about Reid that made Lilly feel at ease. Perhaps it had something to do with his choice of a welcoming gift. Or perhaps it was simply that he choose one. Either way, she liked him. Still choosing to remain quiet, she awaited her father's answer. After all she too was interested in Aisling's lineage.
Benedict moves so that he is addressing both of them.
"My daughter, Lilly, whom I understand that you have met. As you are her long-lost cousin, I will forgive your rather brash self-introduction." Benedict is not smiling, but this feels to each of you as if he is gently teasing. He seems quite comfortable.
"Brash or not, I for one could not have been more pleased." Lilly says with a sparkle in her eye.
As she stand there next to her father, the resemblance is obvious. They carry themselves very much in the same way and use similar gestures. Their eyes have the same depth, if not the same shape. The girl smiles more often but in a polite manner. Seldom do either of them give into the type of smile that lights the face.
Lilly is not as tall as her father and stand perhaps five and half feet. She shares his lean physique. Her every moment is carried out with grace. Straight hair as dark as the sky during the new moon hangs loosely down her back. Despite it's looseness however, not a single hair appears to be somewhere it's not supposed to be. Deep brown almond shape eyes sparkle with intensity. The flawless ivory of Lilly's skin contrasts beautifully with the deep red gown of Asian cut she is wearing. In a word she is beautiful. Still, a sensitive soul can tell she is not all together pleased with her appearance. Most times however she simply pushes those feelings of inadequacy aside and goes about the business at hand.
Reid looks at her approvingly.
Benedict says, "I should very much like to see the gift sometime later." He turns his attention back to Reid. "I have been living out of Amber for some years. The family situation has been ... difficult ... here of late. You can see that Oberon left a number of sons; too many of them were ambitious. It will be interesting to see how Random deals with their ambitions, or whether their experiences in the war have made some of them rethink their positions."
Benedict is not looking at anyone when he says that last.
Those words Lilly files away in the exact order in which they were given. A few minutes ago she would have trusted any of her uncles simply because they were family. Now she seemed to grasp a missing piece of the familial puzzle. Ambition, treachery, distrust, these were things she was going to have to keep watch for if she was to dutifully serve the king of Amber.
"What are your plans, Reid, now that the war is over, at least for the nonce?"
Reid shrugs slightly. "I'm afraid that by the time I returned, Amber was not in immediate conflict of the sort that you and your brethren fought. Even thought I have been here through much of the crisis of the last few years, it is still difficult for me to think of Amber at war. The last time I was aware of such conflict, I was a boy, and the front lines were in shadows far removed... The days when you and your older brothers held the standard for our king. So while, as you say the war is over, to me, the kingdom is still in crisis, though of a slow and plodding nature. What will I do? Continue that which I have been doing: Teach those would learn from me; entertain, stimulate and challenge those who would experience my music and art; aid the kingdom in its attempts to return to normalcy; and spend time with family both long missed and newly met." His smile is broad enough to include both Benedict and Lilly in its scope.
"I would be grateful for any instruction you would be willing to give cousin. Amber is new to me and my own years number few. There is still much I am eager to understand." Lilly's voice is filled with bare honesty.
"Then I will make it a point to see that your existing interests are satisfactorily sated and, with any luck, introduce you to some new diversions that may suit your fancy." He smiles, then returns his attention to Benedict. "So you were away before the war. I suppose I could tell you that things have changed while you were gone, but I gather you know that already. I trust that Random will take dinner as an opportunity to bring everyone up to speed. I have a feeling that change is still in the winds, but as a family, we're going to need all our resources to steer the change to our favor."
"Things changed before I left, else I would not have. And I believe I was somewhat remiss in paying attention to my brothers and sisters. I find I have a disturbingly large number of nieces and nephews whom I have not met. As to what will happen, I do not expect that even Random can tell us all that will change here. I suspect it will be...difficult for some time yet."
"From what I have been hearing, difficult would seem to be an apt description for Amber most days. True?" Lilly asks.
"Reid would know more of that than I, at least of late," says Benedict.
"And here I was thinking that I can recall a time when things were pretty straightforward..." Reid replies. "Buf 'of late'? Yes. Difficult seems appropriate."
Curiosity sparkles in Lilly's eyes for a moment. "Are there things I should be avoiding then to keep things less difficult or conversely things that should be done for the same reason?"
Reid considers the matter. "No. I think the degree of uncertainty that has plagued Amber recently is beyond the scope of our affect. At least until someone figures out what is going on. From what we know about the state of affairs, doing or not doing specific things doesn't seem help or hinder our progress."
Benedict looks at both Reid and his daughter for a moment, letting the silence grow. "The King may have odd needs of us, and it is not safe to have so many of us in a shadow. Do his will and go where he bids." If Benedict has a specific concern, he does not voice it.
"For yourself, avoid having children. They would be a risk in the current situation, which looks to be unsettled for the foreseeable future." It is unclear if he is addressing Lilly or Reid or both.
The look on Lilly's face is entirely unlike anything anyone in this room has seen. It holds a bit of shock, and a slight tinge of embarrassment. Mostly though, she is looking at her father as if he has just completely lost his mind. She was not sure if she ever wanted children. Certainly not within the next century. That he would even suggest she might, especially without the presence of a suitor in her life, was astonishing to her.
"I do not believe that will be an issue father."
Benedict looks to Reid, inviting a response from him.
Reid shrugs. "Don't look at me. I deal with enough children..." He glances around at the remainder of his cousins in the room.
Benedict smiles, encompassing both Reid and Lily. "They have not asked me for advice on the subject, so I will give my advice to you who are closest to me. But do not underestimate them, Nephew. You should consider why each of their parents made the choice to have them, what they have invested, and what they have gained. Think of each of them as both a player and a piece in the game, and ask why they have been put into play."
"Yes, Uncle. I remember the wargames you would have me play as a child. You may be right in thinking that your half-brothers and sisters kept their children away from the courts so that they could have troops in reserve, as it were. I had not given serious thought to them in that light, but strategically, an asset unknown to other players in the game can, when introduced at the right time, turn the tides. Though in this case, I think the Sundering shook a lot of the clandestine offspring out of the woodwork. Not to say they couldn't still have power, but with so many introduced in such little time, the element of surprise is diluted." Reid ponders.
Children conceived to be pawns. The whole notion of that touched something deep within Lilly. She firmly believed children should be conceived by parents who truly wanted them, truly loved them and each other. Anything less was a disservice to the young one they had created. It wasn't that her childhood had been awful. As a matter of fact it was quite nice ONCE she was in Tecys. But she still had feelings of abandonment brought on by a mother who did not love her and a father who could not raise her.
Pushing the thought of her own father conceiving her for less then noble purposes firmly from her mind, Lilly speaks softly. "The power of this new generation will lie in the ability to balance the needs of self with the needs of our parents."
"There are too many of them. If they learned the lessons of their parents and worked together, we'd be at a serious disadvantage. I consider that unlikely, though. The power will reside in those who survive by not making mistakes. Even amongst my old and canny brothers, younger and older, it was too much the done thing to act prematurely."
Reid nods.
"Patience." Lilly reminds herself out loud.
Eyes scanning the room for a moment she returns her attention back to Reid. "It would be interesting to trade thoughts on our extended family at some point. I'm sure there is much I can learn from you."
Benedict sips his beverage and his tied-off sleeve flutters when he moves.
Reid eyes the sleeve with a half arched eyebrow before answering his cousin. "Well, the half that I know, I've only known for a couple of years... very short by our life standards. And it seems the other half was in Chaos with you, so perhaps a mutual exchange would be in order." Turning slightly towards Benedict, "Did I tell you that Finndo had a daughter? Bestla. Don't know what became of her, to be honest, but I don't know that she would know anything about Amber. She was born in shadow and Finndo and my father died around the same time as the birth, from what I've been able to piece together. Her mother was a giantess... Uncle Finndo always liked large women..."
Reid nods towards Brita's direction. "My student, Brita, is from that line. Her father got together with Fiona, so she's got the blood from both sides, though I don't know if she's really aware of that..."
He returns his attention to Benedict's sleeve and is desperately trying not to say "Lose something?" Instead he offers, "I'd hate to see the other man..."
Lilly listened with interest wondering what her father's reactions would be to everything Reid was asking and telling him.
Benedict smiles briefly "The other man? She did not fare so well. But tell me more of Brita. I had not realized that she descended from two lines. That is...unusual." It was clear that he had another word in mind, but settled for 'unusual'.
"Fiona was rescued from an avalanche by your brother's great grandson. Apparently some damsels in distress are more appreciative of that sort of thing than others." Reid muses.
The remark elicits a smile, and a slight bit of embarrassment from Lilly. Recovering quickly she adds, "Perhaps that is why Mallet did all he could to make share I would never need rescuing."
"Mallet has taught you well, but even the most competent of us can find themselves in need of rescuing. My father, for example, was apparently rescued from some predicament or other by Dara. And one should never discount the possible tactical or strategic advantages that might might be gained by providing or needing a rescue."
"Perhaps," Reid agrees. "So, when's dinner?"
"At His Majesty's Pleasure, like so much else. That, at least, has not changed these past few millennia."
By the time Jerod gets to the bar, everyone has vacated it.
Until Conner comes over. "It seems my large brandy didn't last as long as I hoped." Conner smiles mixing up a medium strength Manhatten from the bar. "How goes your Mandatory Fun?"
"Such is the danger of large family gatherings." Jerod replies, mixing one drink for his sister and pouring himself another. "I've always felt that servants were essential during these kinds of functions. They keep the plotting to a minimum because you never know who's in who's employ...and they can keep your drinks refreshed too with a minimum of fuss."
"I trust your reunion is going well?" Jerod asks, deliberately sidestepping Conner's question.
Conner nods. "I've been reminiscing with people I don't know." He smiles. "It takes longer but is more satisfying I find."
"It certainly requires a great deal more work." Jerod says. "Having to explain all the historical references that others you do know would understand immediately. Anything in particular being reminisced about?"
"Not really." COnner replies. "Rebman history mostly."
"That sounds distressingly boring." Jerod replies, taking a sip of his drink. He makes no move to take the other drink back to his sister, waiting it would seem for a more appropriate moment.
"Anything come up concerning your Triton and back-door situation from Benedict. I noticed you had him there for a couple of minutes."
"Benedict was his usual talkative self." Conner smiles in answer.
"A pity." Jerod says. "I've only met him a couple of times so keeping track of what he is like when he is talkative, vs not, can be difficult. Still, I was hoping to find out more if we could. We'll have to get ahold of Martin I suppose, see if he remembers that way in. It would be interesting to find out who summoned the Tritons down on you. The list of potential suspects is fairly short if I remember my information on them correctly."
"I should like to see that list when you have a chance." Conner replies. "All people will tell me is that it means a person of great power in Rebma." Conner sips his drink. "Did you ever look into the front door to Rebma being open once more?"
"The list is quite short." Jerod says. "Start with the Queen, follow only the family tree...go no further." and he looks at Conner for a moment while the implications of that sinks in.
Conner simply nods as if that confirms his own suspicions.
"As for the front door, I've a report that indicates it is still not usable."
"Curious." Conner muses. "I wonder where the Rebman delegates hurried to then. Secret doors perhaps."
"Perhaps. More likely they were eager to return home after so many years stuck with us." Jerod says.
When Folly returns to the main part of the library, she notices Flora standing alone - and without a drink, no less, as no one has offered to fetch her one yet. Perhaps to test Corwin's theory, Folly approaches her.
"Princess Florimel," Folly says with a winning smile and her own best Party Manners voice, "you look stunning. May I fetch you a drink? I'm just on my way to refresh mine."
[Flora was actually moving to speak with Cambina. Consider it as an operation of the law of conservation of NPCs.]
Flora stops and says, "Thank you. That would be very kind of you, dear." If she has snippy commentary about the hair and boots, she's keeping it to herself.
Folly smiles again, heads to the bar, and mixes up the sort of subtle, interesting drink she knows her mother's most sophisticated, least trendoid friends would like. As a bonus, the resulting concoction is a lovely pale gold color that coordinates nicely with Flora's dress.
After she refills her own glass with white wine, she notices the extra drink sitting on the bar beside Jerod.
_For Cambina?_ she mouths at him silently, then holds out her hand, offering to take the drink to his sister if he wishes.
Jerod would nod and smile when Folly approached to make up her drinks, briefly continuing his conversation with Conner (insert last entry here). When Folly motions to the drink on the bar, he replies, "Yes it is, thank you very much." as he hands it to her.
Folly transfers both the stemmed glasses to her left hand and takes Cambina's drink in her right.
"Good evening, Folly." Conner nods to her. "Loved the song." He smiles.
"Thank you, love," Folly replies, returning the smile. "Wouldn't it have been great if everyone had brought instruments? Corwin really doesn't suck, and rumor has it the King's no slouch on drums, either. Have either of you heard him play?"
"If I remember correctly he insisted on a separate room for a drum set during his time as a guest of my father." Jerod replies. "Dad didn't mind good music but too much drum work could be pushy."
"Alas Rebma is a harsh environment on drums." Conner replies. "I heard him play a crystal vase with drumsticks once when he was kept waiting a little too long in the Embassy." Conner smiles at the memory.
Folly smiles, too. She's got a faraway look in her eyes.
"That sounds vaguely familiar." Jerod says, thinking for a moment. "Though I remember one instance involving one of dad's aboriginal wood carvings. Thankfully dad wasn't around and Vialle got Random to stop before he came back."
"How did it sound? Was it one of the nice hollow ones?" Folly asks, then wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, bringing herself back into the present. "No matter. I just hope we'll be able to lure him to jam sessions once things settle down a little around here."
Folly glances at the drinks in her hands, then across the room toward Flora and Cambina. "If you kids will excuse me, I've got some whistles to wet. Catch you later, OK?" And she's off, her demeanor going from casual to formal as soon as she steps away from the bar.
"With luck." Jerod says. "Though I'll be sure to keep the mask carving away at my lodge." and he smiles just a little. "It sounded very good...but dad took his art very seriously."
Conner chuckles. "As did Ambassador Droit. Let's hope His Majesty's sense of timing and rythym serves him well."
"He's certain to get a chance to find out." Jerod says, looking over at Random for a moment. "He's got the showmanship it would seem. Whether that translates into substance is a matter that those in power are sure to be watching for."
"And it's time we vacated the bar I think. Who would be good pickings to meet with now I wonder."
"Well I've yet to visit the nautical court." Conner smiles with a gesture to Gerard and Caine. "So I am doorward bound. Until later." He nods to Jerod and wanders over to Gerard and Caine and Vere.
"Don't drown." Jerod says, collecting his drink.
As Folly approaches her destination, she listens to the rhythm of the voices, timing her arrival so it won't interrupt the flow of conversation. She hands over Cambina's drink first. "Your brother seems to have gotten sucked into Rebman reminiscences," she says, and smiles, doing a pretty good job of covering up just how nervous being around Cambina in a formal setting makes her.
She looks at Folly. "My brother is like my father, and cannot help but get sucked into Rebman concerns. I have never seen the attraction. To be fair, they never saw what I saw in Tir."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Folly replies with a half-smile.
[Cambina]
"Tir is a fine place for those simple enough to like every aspect of
themselves, or those strong enough to look at all of their weaknesses
revealed. It is not friendly to those who do not want to look in a mirror
and see truth. And even then it is hard to see any truth you did not bring
with you."
Folly considers this for a moment, and nods. She decides to save further comment for later, though.
Turning to Flora, Folly offers up the shimmering cocktail. "I took a guess," she says with a smile. "You strike me as the sort of woman who likes surprises, as long as they're of the right sort. If it's dreadful, I'll get you something more to your liking."
Flora smiles. "If I can stand Eric's cooking and Gerard's bartending, I can drink anything. Mulled Drain Opener, perhaps?" She smiles and takes a long, smooth sip.
"Wood Varnish with a spritz of lemon," Folly replies, eyes twinkling. "What you don't drink, you can use to spruce up your new quarters."
"I think drinking wood varnish might be necessary before viewing my new quarters again. Not that you all haven't done an amazing job of keeping things together here, but I used to have a wardrobe here." She tilts her head briefly to one side, and drinks perhaps a third of her beverage.
"You seem unhindered by its absence," Folly replies smoothly. She considers mentioning that she herself used to have a mirror, but feels certain Flora's response wouldn't be so effortlessly complimentary.
Instead, she says, "I hope your new progeny proved a pleasanter surprise. Have you had a chance to meet them yet?"
"Yes, Lucas introduced them this afternoon. They're absolutely charming. Solace is a little shy, but I'm sure we'll bring her around." If Flora is bothered by the idea of being the first grandmother of her generation, it doesn't show.
_As long as Solace doesn't turn into her mother,_ thinks Folly. "I'm sure they will bring you much joy," she says instead. "They really are delightful." She smiles and sips her drink.
Something seems to catch Folly's eye, and she looks toward the two men standing nearby. "The man talking with Merlin is... Brennan?" A sensitive soul might get the feeling she's checking him out. A very sensitive soul, or someone who knows Folly well, might instead get the sense that she's wondering how his hair would look thrashing around to a guitar solo.
[Brennan]
As long as she's not picturing it purple.
I don't know about sensitive, as such, but like Merlin, Brennan is the type who tends to know when people are watching him. As he's wrapping up with Merlin, he looks up suddenly, glances around, then notices Folly looking at him.
He excuses himself from his small talk with Merlin, then heads over in her direction.
Folly likewise politely excuses herself.
Probably they meet in the middle, thus leaving the distaff NPCs to fend with themselves or to join Merlin.
"I don't believe we've met," he says. "I'm Brennan." He's got his coffee in his left hand and his right is available for shaking.
"Well met, Brennan, and welcome home," Folly replies. "I'm Folly." She smiles up at him and clasps his hand in greeting.
Brennan's eyebrows both raise a little at that. "I may have missed it in the rush of activity earlier this afternoon, but I think you're the first person to say that. An odd greeting, since I've never been here before, but thank you."
Folly grins. "I hadn't either, 'til a few years ago, but it really sort of grows on you. Even the family part. You settling into your new digs OK?"
"I think so, but I haven't really spent much time there. I've heard people grumbling about lodgings, though. What's the deal?"
Folly thinks about this for a moment, as if there are several possible answers to the question. "You Trumped directly into the castle -- right? -- so you wouldn't have gotten the outside view, with the tower that looks less like a tower and more like a big space where a tower used to be. The people who used to live here -- that's where they used to live. I think some of them are finding their replacement quarters... maybe a bit sparser than what they're used to. Amber hasn't been as prosperous these last few years as she used to be."
Brennan nods when Folly talks about trumping directly into the castle. When she's done, "So, what, there was a big shuffle when the rest of us came back?" It's hard to tell exactly what he thinks of that, if true.
"A smallish shuffle," Folly replies, "plus a lot of diggin' shi-- er, furnishings out of the attic and trying to make them look presentable. You should see the rug that ended up in my room." She says this last with the same giddy, horrified delight with which one might describe a hilariously sick children's cartoon.
"I sense that my spartaneity may yet prove to be a virtue," he says drily.
Folly hesitates, then asks, a little sheepishly, "Uh, you haven't heard anyone grumbling about... cat smell, have you?"
"Uh, no...." he says. He can figure out where that might be going, and his look around the room speaks volumes. Especially when he glances past Caine and Benedict.
As Folly follows his gaze, she goes a little pale. She's suddenly very glad she left Fathom locked safely in her room. "Well, that's probably a good thing," she says. "If you don't mind my asking, who was complaining about the new accommodations?"
There's a little sparkle of amusement as he watches Folly think through some of the possibilities, but he doesn't comment on them.
"I really can't say, but now that I know the situation, I think it was more a generalized discontent at being shuffled. I haven't heard any of the recent arrivals complaining, if that's what you mean."
Folly nods as she takes this in. Brennan may get the sense that he's answered her question more fully than he had intended.
Brennan continues, "I have no complaints, for instance, but then I don't exactly have a lot of personal effects. It's hard not to regard this as another stop along the road."
"Y'know, there are those who say this is the end of the road," Folly says, but it's not clear whether she agrees. She considers his words a moment more, then adds, "Have you been headed somewhere in particular, or do you just like to keep moving?"
Brennan gives a snort of a laugh at the first, then says, "This is an end of the road. But it definitely isn't the only one-- I've been to one of the other ones." He considers her other question for a moment, with the air of someone who has considered it before but still gives it brief but honest thought. "I've been headed away from someone for a long, long time. Long enough that motion is more natural than standing still, now."
"Has it worked?" Folly asks. "Have you gotten far enough away that you can stop and rest, at least for a little while?"
"Probably. He's dead now, after all."
Folly nods, but she seems lost in thought.
Brennan regards her with the air of someone waiting for her to work out the rather obvious implications, waiting to see if she's going to ask the next questions or not.
Her eyes refocus on a point slightly over Brennan's shoulder, as if she's listening to something that isn't there.
And Brennan's narrow, watching her closely.
Folly feels Brennan's gaze almost as she would feel a touch on the arm, and she starts back into reality.
"Forgive me," she says with an embarrassed little smile. "Parts of your story just call out for a song, y'know? But then the song hears the call and comes running before I'm quite ready for it. Damn things have no party manners at all."
"That'd have to a reasonably long song, I think."
Folly smiles. "You'd know better than I, I s'pose. Maybe in a couple weeks, once things've settled down a little around here, I'll buy you a beer or six and you can tell me a story."
"Maybe one."
As to the questions Brennan wondered whether Folly would ask: either she has already worked out the answers herself or she's saving them for later.
"But enough about me. Who are you, when you're not Folly the Songwriter?" He scrutinizes her features closely, then glances around the room a few times. He ends up settling on Corwin, then Caine.... then Corwin. "If I had to guess, I'd guess Corwin's daughter?"
"Good guess!" Folly says. "That's not what he guessed, though. And whoever knows the real answer hasn't bothered telling me yet." She grins, then shrugs; the situation seems to amuse her.
"Oberon vouched for me, apparently, and sent Martin to fetch me on the eve of the Sundering," she continues, "but by the time we got back here, he was already... gone." This seems to make her a little sad.
The cloud passes quickly, though. "And I'm always Folly the Songwriter, even if I'm sometimes other things, too. It's a compulsion."
"Oberon vouched for you? That's shorthand for saying you appeared after the Beast in the Basement broke its back? Or too late to prove your blood that way? Maybe once we get Tir back, that will help-- with the details of the lineage, as well as the basic fact of it."
"The proof and the lineage aren't really the parts I'm interested in," Folly replies. "I just want this damn melody to make sense, y'know?" She presses the heel of her hand to her temple, as if struggling even now to suss out the meaning of what she hears in her head.
"I'm an indifferent musician at best, but I don't believe it's supposed to be painful," he says quietly.
Folly responds with a wry smile.
"But I'd be interested in Tir even without the Pattern, I think," she continues. "I mean, as far as I can tell, it's like this big echoey metaphor in the sky, and that appeals to me." Folly's eyes focus on Brennan's, searching; for the first time, it occurs to her to wonder how old he is. "Have you spent much time there?"
Brennan's eyes narrow just a bit, but not unfriendly. He nods, almost to himself, probably at the edge of a deep memory. "Enough."
Folly shivers, although she's not sure why. She continues to watch Brennan silently as she turns his answer -- the spoken and the unspoken -- over in her conscious mind, examining it for meaning.
Meanwhile, her subconscious mind draws an amusing and perhaps not-entirely-inappropriate parallel between Tir and psychedelic drugs.
All of which appears to be largely opaque to Brennan, who lets the silence last just long enough to demonstrate that he's not uncomfortable with silences in general, before asking, "So, if your lineage is unknown, how is it that you came to be in a position where Oberon had to vouch for you?"
Folly looks slightly troubled by the question. "He sent Martin on a hellride on the eve of a war to pick up some unknown chick on the far side of nowhere-in-particular. I guess the 'by the way, she's family' was so it'd make some tiny bit of sense." She glances around the room without really seeing it, and shrugs. "I don't know what he knew about me, or how he knew it. But he did, and here I am."
Brennan listens and nods. "Ayup, that'd probably do it. Pity he didn't bother to make your lineage more clear, while he was at it. I'm sure speculation abouds on the reasons for that, too, but other than the paralepsis, I'll spare you."
Sensing that this might be a sensitive topic, he lets her change the subject to something more of her liking.
Folly smiles and sips at her drink for a moment, grateful he's not putting her on the spot. "So," she asks, "got any big plans now that the war is over?"
"The war is over?" he says, innocently.
"That's the rumor, anyway," Folly replies, and smiles, but there's something more than humor sparkling behind her eyes. Concern, maybe. "Bim-bam-the-wicked-witch-is-dead, and all that."
"We'll see. One wicked witch is dead, but funerary truces aside, I would be fairly surprised if some of the combatants are perfectly placated and docile. The means may be gone, for now, but the motives probably aren't."
It may occur to Brennan that she also means his war, not just the war.
If he does, he ignores it.
"Isn't that always the case, though?" Folly asks. "If you've got power, somebody, somewhere, probably wants to do you in. So you stay on your guard -- but can't you still try to make the best of the in-between times?"
There's not much of an answer Brennan can give here, except a shrug. He doesn't seem like the type to relax much more than he already is. Not for long periods of time, anyway. There's enough of an inner restlessness to him, even when he's still, to make that clear to a high water type.
And, Folly concludes, he's been on the move for so long that he no longer even dreams of standing still. Or if he does, it's not the sort of thing he discusses casually.
Folly swirls her wine in her glass and then takes a long sip that, to the right sort of musician, might almost feel like a key change. "Y'know," she says when she is done, "I could stand here with you avoiding the stuffed shirts all night, but that would hardly be in the spirit of the gathering, now, would it?" She gives Brennan a wry smile; she would, clearly, much prefer to be meeting her new relatives at a pub or a coffeeshop or... hell, even a baseball game. "If there's anyone here you still need to meet," she offers, "I'd be happy to introduce you."
"Actually," Brennan responds, looking around, "I believe I've met just about everyone, at least for a few spoken words. Although I do need to speak to Benedict and Caine, when they've some time."
"Well, you're doing a lot better than I am, then," Folly says. "That's what I get for showing up late, I guess." Her smile seems more frustrated than happy.
"Before I go meeting anyone else, though, I think I need to sneak in a word or two with Vialle," she continues. "You're welcome to join me, if you wish."
"Thank you, Folly, but while I think I've met all the family, I haven't spoken to everyone yet tonight-- and I see Corwin and Llewella off in a corner, there, neither of whom I've inflicted myself on this evening. A pleasure meeting you."
"Likewise," Folly says with a smile.
And with that, he probably heads into a different sub-thread.
Folly watches him go, then heads for the group around Vialle.