Robin lounges by the wall for several moments watching her cousin work. The morning shadows allow the Ranger to blend perfectly with the stones, the grass, the sky. Even Robin's fair is still, except for the ocassional tail flick that could be mistaken for a leaf in the wind.
When it looks like Brita is at a good stopping place, Robin steps into the light. Stroking one of the tree's fronds, the girl smiles "I chose an olive for Daeon's spring. But willow is much better for Cambina."
She turns her smile on Brita, "Thank you for that. It was... nice."
Robin's attire has returned to its standard rumpled trail gear. Her boots and the guantlets hanging from her belt are still drying and the ocassional glimmer of a fish scale can be seen on her pants and one sleeve. Braided into her hair at left her temple are the two stones that Brita gave her at the Memorial service and a small mouse skull peeks out from deeper within her locks.
Brita leans on the shovel she has been using and smiles at Robin. "Cousin, I was Looking for You, but Needed to Finish this Task as well." She is dressed in brown pants with a white shirt now also liberally streaked with brown, the shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her single braid is looking more like Robin's hair, tufts of hair escaping the braid that is now sprinkled with dirt and leaves. She looks as if she may have been wrestling with the willow that stands a foot taller than her. She swipes her arm across her brow. "We Need to Discuss the Potential Duel further. Cousin Jerod notes that Your Capture of Uncle Huon would Do Well to Reduce some of Captain Venesh's Rancor."
"Oh, don't I wish I could do that!" Robin sighs. "Especially since I'm completely walking the King's 'don't kill him' path. Bbbbuuuttt, the primary reason I let him go in the first place was that the threat of the Dragon ranked higher in my mind. And though, we're not in direct combat right now... it still does. After I make my report to the King, I hope to be allowed to return to Arden. To defend it and Amber from what's coming. Do you think he'd be satisfied with a promise to do so once the situation in Arden was resolved?" Robin wrinkles her nose skeptically. She doesn't think so, but it's worth offering.
"Probably Not," Brita sighs. "I had Hoped to be a Better Negotiator for you, Cousin Robin, but in Shadow Asgard it is Rare that the Combatants do Not actually Wish to Duel, Even if they have Resolved their Differences. It is Practically a Sport."
"I wish I was a better... uh, whatever, Brita." Robin blushes. Wandering off in and around the Castle when your Cousin is Shieldbearing for you is just plain rude.
[Brita] cocks her head to one side and gazes at the willow as she thinks. "Perhaps Actually Duelling is not the Worst Idea. If Captain Venesch can Honorably Withstand Your Fighting..." Brita pauses as she searches for the right word and finally settles on "Technique even for a While, he could Feel that he has Regained his Honor. You are Not as Familiar with His Technique, I Suppose, given your Time with the Rangers away from the Castle." She gazes speculatively at Robin as she thinks some more then gives a firm nod, "He has a Chance, if he is as Smart as he is Trusted to be." She pauses, "Would it Wound You if you actually Lost to Him?"
"If I lost honestly? Of course not." Robin seems surprised by the question.
"I'm not going to throw the fight though. That would be... wrong." She curls her lip at the concept. Robin knows that Brita wouldn't ask that of her, but given the Ranger's not-so-honorable nature, it's probably best if that were stated out loud. Just so everyone knew.
Brita blinks in surprise. "I would Never have Thought You would Throw a Fight, Ranger Robin. Never." She starts to roll down the sleeves on her shirt. "I just think it is Possible that the Captain could Surprise Us, if it comes to a Duel. We could Still Avert it with an Adequate Public Apology and Explanation of your Actions to the King. Captain Venesch feels the guard was Ill Informed of the Nature of the Prisoner. I will Go to my Brother now and see what Words he can Develop for You that will Flow Smoothly. You are Welcome to come along, but you may be Otherwise Busy." Brita continues gathering up the tools she has used and does not look at Robin as she offers this way out.
Robin cocks her head curiously at the out. "Is-is Conner mad at me too?" she asks quietly.
Brita almost laughs at that one, "My Conner? He is Not Mad at You. I just thought You Wouldn't want to Deal with the Words My Brother is so Good with, but you Are Welcome to come to the Meeting." She sighs slightly, dusting her hands off. "With the Funerals, however, I Doubt we Will have Time to have an Appropriate Length Discussion to develop the Correct Words."
"Understood." Robin nods and holds out her arms to help Brtia carry the tools in.
"I just thought he might want to hear from me direct. Instead of what you say I said. Whisper-chains. Bleah. I don't know how the talky folk manage."
Brita shares out the load as they start to make her way back to the Palace. "Sometimes we Don't Manage." She shrugs. "It is Easy to Misinterpret when One Doesn't Know the Language Well." She smiles at Robin. "So my Plan is to Catch My Brother after Cousin Lucas's Funeral, Given we are to Head Out Shortly. I will Set up a Meeting with Him and Contact you with the Details."
"Okay." Robin nods, taking her share of the tools. "Folks are leaving this early?!
"Dung! I better get moving!" She mutters to herself.
There is something about electric lighting that just doesn't seem right, Jerod realizes as he leans against the wall, listening for the scrape of the door that tells him Gilt is departing to undertake his daily rounds.
It fills all the available space, he thinks. It is certainly efficient at keeping the darkness at bay, steady and unrelenting in its efforts, impeded only by the natural effects of a physical obstruction. It's not like torchlight was in the old castle or the comforting if occasionally erratic feel of sunlight. It has the technological feel to it, the imposition of Order not upon Chaos but on the natural flowing rules of the universe. It forces the light of day into every corner no matter how small, banishing the shadows from the course of the normal day.
Sometimes shadows are good, Jerod thinks, as he hears the scrape of the door.
"Hello Gilt." Jerod says pleasantly as the King's secretary comes up to the corner. "A fortuitous meeting. I have a couple of questions for you that I'm hoping you might be able to answer. It should only take a moment."
Gilt Winter is a tall man with long silver hair that he keeps tied back in a ponytail. He wears a thin mustache, probably because anything more would interfere with his saxophone-playing, which was one of his original entrees to Random's circle. He looks almost nothing like his father, the retired naval officer known these days as M.
"Good morning, your highness," Gilt says pleasantly. If he has any concerns about what Jerod might want from him after that rather snippy note Jerod sent, he's a good enough bluffer not to show them. "What can I do for you?"
Snippy notes being Jerod's specialty, it is hardly likely that anyone would consider it as being anything other than business as usual.
"Given the busy schedule upcoming, I've decided to arrange my meeting with the Queen after the Paris trip." Jerod says. "This will permit me to follow up on a few things. The first of which is the Queen's schedule on the day that my sister died.
"I understand that she accompanied the Queen that day. Riding I believe. What do you know of this?"
Gilt doesn't take any time to recall the event, but it apparently stuck out in his mind for some strange reason. "Nestor came to me and told me a story to that effect. I investigated with the stablehands. His story doesn't jibe with their memory of events. Cambina took a horse but nobody else recalls the Queen being present, for all that the Queen went missing at the same time and may or may not have been with her.
"That's a separate matter from the idea of the Queen leading a woman on a horse up the mountain path in Xanadu." Gilt's tone is neutral on that point despite its improbability. "I reported all of this to His Majesty. I haven't received any further instructions from about that point, either in regards to Cambina's death or the Queen's disappearance. Both of those investigations are ongoing."
"I would like to know who is undertaking these investigations, and the names of the stablehands who were there that day?" Jerod asks. "Also was the possibility investigated that the perceptions of the stablehands may have been adjusted?"
"I regret that I must refer you to His Majesty for the confidential details of the investigation. And I should mention that in the matter of the stablehands, His Majesty is likely to take it amiss should anyone disturb them." Gilt's expression is absolutely neutral as he says that last.
"Really?" Jerod offers. "And why is that?"
Gilt's eyebrows go up slightly, as if he's surprised that Jerod doesn't already know the answer. "Because," he says coolly, as if this were the most obvious thing ever, "of Prince Garrett."
Jerod learned long ago that the regrettable side effect of being from two kingdoms is that you're frequently busy with one or the other, thus you occasionally miss a memo or two.
"Given that I've been away dealing with problems at one of my two homes," Jerod says, "...that means that sometimes I'm not always around to catch up on the family gossip. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to enlighten me on the curious situation of Prince Garrett and the stablehands. I think we'd both agree it would be of benefit to everyone involved. One doesn't want to cause a bother for the King now, do they."
"Prince Garrett's mother is married to the Master of Horse," Gilt explains.
Jerod remembers the current Master of Horse; he's the one who took over from old Pastern when Pastern was killed in the Sundering. If Garrett grew up under his fosterage, Garrett has been caring for Almadin for years.
Jerod smiles. "Turf." he says, mostly to himself. He's reasonably certain that Gilt will not understand what he is referring to, and he does not bother explaining.
"I have not had the pleasure of meeting the Prince's mother. I suspect it will be some time in the future before that might happen." Jerod says.
"You may advise the King that I have no intention of causing any issues there, though if my investigation should indicate that evidence requires investigation in that location, barring a direct order to desist, I will follow the path that the evidence takes me."
Jerod does not bother with following up on the possibility that Random might actually order him to desist. There is too little information currently to wonder what he might find when he approaches that point and speculation without evidence is pointless. Random knows Jerod well enough he won't let something like this go just because the King orders it. Royalty is one thing, Royal Family is another, and Cambina was his Family. And Jerod knows where his own priorities lie, and what bridges he will burn if required.
"So you can verify that no other investigation, with regards to the stables has been undertaken that you are aware of, either officially or unofficially?" Jerod asks.
Gilt's still wearing his officially blank expression. "I regret that I cannot. I'm not at liberty to discuss any such investigations, particularly as they touch on matters relating to the Queen, official or otherwise." This is exactly what Gilt would have said to a nosy courtier when he was working for Eric.
"Good." is Jerod's response, having verified what he suspected. "I shall not keep you any longer Gilt. May you have a pleasant day."
As soon as he's returned to the palace of Xanadu Vere has a quick bath and a change of clothes, and then seeks his parents.
The castle staff tells him that Gerard and Corvis are in their quarters, the corner suite with the spacious living area and beautiful view of the falls that Vere remembers. They seem to have finished a light meal; pages have come to take away the dishes.
Corvis rises to give Vere a maternal embrace. "Vere. Let me look at you. How fare you, and how fares your sister, and the rest of our people?" There is little strength in her embrace, but Vere does not sense that she has weakened significantly beyond what he had already seen.
Gerard rolls up close behind, but not so close that Corvis will trip over him when she steps back.
Vere embraces her gently and kisses her cheek. "I am well, Mother," he answers. "And Avis is firmly in command. She is negotiating with King Corwin over the possibility of settling our people in the area outside his city of Paris." He glances at Gerard. "My original thought that it might be good to resettle them in Rebma I abandoned, considering the unstable situation there. We did not evacuate the Isles merely to lead our people into the midst of someone else's civil war."
"Wise," Gerard grunts, "Although it'll be funny to watch all their faces when they realize Corwin thinks he's in charge because he's a man, and Avis thinks she's in charge because she's a woman."
Vere chuckles very quietly at this comment.
Corvis steps back and pats Gerard's shoulder. "Let us not buy trouble; it will come on its own, will we, nill we. Is the country outside this Paris suitable, then?"
"Yes, Mother," Vere responds with a nod. "I believe it will suit admirably. Paris is still a young and growing kingdom, and there is much fertile, unclaimed land outside the city. As well, it is abutted by forests which as of yet have no guardians, and it strikes me that the Brotherhood of the Stag would serve well indeed as Rangers there. There is an excellent harbour, and our people's skills as master shipwrights and sailors will make them welcome citizens."
He walks to a high backed chair and lifts it, bringing it back and placing it next to Gerard's wheelchair, and gestures to his mother to sit. "More importantly, it is Real, and our people and their descendants need never fear it being torn out from under them."
Corvis takes the chair and seats herself as Gerard begins to speak.
"Just having to fight when someone like Huon takes a poke at Corwin," Gerard says, then holds up a hand to forestall Corvis' next affectionate protest. "But they're a strong folk and have done well enough in the wars they've had. And if there's enough land, any factional fighting can be resolved by sending one group to the other side of the city."
"You and Avis have done well, son," Corvis agrees.
"Thank you, Mother," Vere says. "Will you be going to Paris for the funeral of Lucas?"
"I will. I hope to see Avis if she is still in the city, although I will not go out to the camp, of course." Corvis smiles again, and for a moment she seems the strong and vibrant woman she was in Vere's boyhood. Then the illusion fades and she is her frail present self again.
"She was in the city yesterday, and I expect her to still be," Vere answers. "Unless yet another crisis has occurred, of course," he smiles, to show that he meant that at least partially as a joke. "The Chancellor is also in the city, I should warn you, along with some of the Witch Queens. So far the alliance hold firm."
He smiles fondly at her, then turns to his father. "If I may impose, I shall want to send my man Castor back to Amber with you, Father. I shall be giving him instructions to travel with and aid Robin."
Gerard nods. "Aye, there'll be enough folk going back that one more makes no difference. I don't know where Robin's going, but I'll see that he's sent to her."
"Thank you, Father," Vere says with a nod. He is silent for a moment, then says, "I will be releasing the Children of Lyr from my service in the immediate future, and then I shall turn my attention fully to the task of restoring your health. I have not had a chance to speak with Hannah. How do matters proceed?"
Gerard bobbles his head a little in an I'm-thinking manner. "Hannah went into Shadow to speak to the gods of her own people and ask their advice on my legs. She's just returned, but her father came with her, and I think she's going to Rebma with him to help slap her folk that Huon enlisted upside the heads to make them see sense. Then she's coming back to Xanadu, and we'll discuss what she's learned."
Gerard sounds mildly exasperated about the folk of the Ponca who've managed to get themselves caught up in Huon's little war. "I haven't spoken to her about it, but I reckon her people might get on with the folk of the Isles. Their gods and beliefs are different, but less different than the folk of Paris."
"I hope she can settle her people without difficulty," Vere says. "I plan to follow up on something we had discussed several years ago. You will recall that when the Aisling came to Amber we discussed with her the possibility of her using Chaosian shapeshifting to aid your recovery. Now that the folk of the Isles are soon to be settled, I wish to continue researching this possibility. The Aisling is no longer available, of course, but there are other avenues that present themselves."
There's a bit of a face at the way Vere describes Aisling, but Gerard nods. "And what avenue d'ye have in mind for that?"
Vere straightens his shoulders and meets Gerard's gaze. "Prince Merlin has agreed to take me beyond Ygg, and to teach me shapeshifting," he says.
Gerard is dumbfounded enough that he doesn't have anything to say before Vere's mother can speak up.
"I don't understand, exactly," Corvis says. "Explain to me what you mean by this, please, and how you think it can help your father."
Vere turns to his mother. "It is not often spoken of," he says, "But the Princes of Amber are the grandsons of a Lord of Chaos. And the great Lords are all masters of changing their shape. As a part of this, it is unheard of for one to suffer physical injury which it cannot eventually repair, unless the injury is sufficiently damaging to kill it outright. A Lord sufficiently versed in shapeshifting can use its powers to heal physical damage to other beings as well. There are questions about whether we of Amber, as creatures of Order, can master such shapeshifting, and whether such healing will be accepted by our bodies. If I can learn it, then that answers that question, and it becomes a viable method of healing Father's injuries."
Gerard is still absorbing this remarkable speech, his mouth moving like a fish's, when Corvis speaks up again. "Do you propose for your father to learn this skill, then?"
"First, I determine if it is even possible for one such as Father or myself," Vere answers. "Then we may determine how best to apply such knowledge."
"I cannot see a reason to forbid this thing," Corvis says, looking at Gerard, clearly expecting some response from him.
"Ye dinna ken what he speaks of. This isna the Weir o' Weirmonken, changin' into the form o' wolves. It's changin' into the form of--I dinna know what, even. A cloud!" Gerard says, seizing on one of the stories someone apparently told him about the Battle of the Abyss.
"The outward form may change, but the essence remains the same," Vere says. "Whether man, wolf or cloud, I will remain Vere."
"So ye say now," Gerard says, but Corvis interrupts him before he can launch into any further tirades.
"If Vere attempts to learn this--ability--and fails, it is one answer. If he takes the first step on the road, it is another. Will you promise to stop, Vere, if you find it is dangerous?" she asks very seriously.
Vere nods. "If it proves dangerous I will seek advice and assistance before proceeding," he says. "I have Father's card, in the event of an emergency. I am also going to discuss with Prince Merlin a means of sorcerously contacting Robin at a moment's notice." He puts a hand on his father's shoulder. "I have too much to live for to take foolish risks, Father," he says, meeting Gerard's gaze. "But I honestly believe this is the most promising line of research I have yet seen. I count on you and Mother to continue working with cousin Hannah as well, while I am gone."
"I'll keep working, aye, but if this is the most promising thing ye've got--" Gerard trails off and doesn't finish that thought. "And what does Robin think of this plan?"
Vere smiles. With the faintest hint of a laugh in his voice he says, "I have promised that I will endeavour not to turn into a puddle," he says. "That appeared to satisfy her."
Gerard throws his hands up, clearly seeing no help in Robin's answer. "Very well. Then go with my blessing, and come home a man, not a cloud or a puddle."
Vere laughs aloud then, and says, "I shall keep your instructions in mind, Father." Then, having won his point, he'll move on to more pleasant topics until it is time for them to depart for the funeral.
Robin knows that her time is short. So she's practically treading on the heels of poor Plait as the girl leads her through the halls of Xanadu. Eventually the two stop before a lovely ash door in what is definitely a better part of the Castle.
"Shall I announce you, Lady?" Plait asks as she raises a hand to knock.
"No, no. You've done enough getting me here this fast. Thank you very much. I'll beard this dragon on my own." Robin replies, not wholly able to keep the reluctance out of her voice. This is so much worst than going through Folly to get to Fathom.
Plait nods, curtseys and strolls off down the corridor, resting from her harried trip here.
Robin sighs, swallows, wipes the dirt from her hands on the back of her pants and knocks on Prince Bleys' door.
"Come in!", she hears from the far side of the door, in a distinctively feminine voice.
[assuming A: we're not delaying this and B: she opens the door...]
Robin opens the door and the outer chamber is packed, as if the occupant isn't staying. Brij is standing there, wearing some sort of dress or shift. It's certainly dark enough for mourning, but not particularly decorous.
"Oh, hello, Aunt Robin! I've been hoping we could chat more since we chased down my sorry ex-boyfriend last week. Do you think these boots are too much for the funeral? Bleys isn't here to ask, and I don't want to offend his sister."
"Hi, Brij." Robin chirps as she bounces in. At the fashion question though, she stops for a moment, completely non-plussed. Then bursts out in self-derogatory laughter.
"I am so not the person to ask," chuckles the girl with fish scales on her clothes and a mouse skull in her hair.
"Uhhhh, if I was you, I'd tackle it this way. Think of what Prince Caine would have to say about the boots and multiply it by about five to get a Princess Florimel reaction. I think."
Brij pouts, but it doesn't stay on her face for long. "I don't think Prince Caine likes me. At first I thought he just didn't like women, but now I think he doesn't like anyone." She shrugs. "I'll just bring a spare pair and ask Bleysy later." She moves a second pair of boots, equally impractical for the forest, to the dresser.
"Is it always this exciting and/or depressing around here, or did I arrive just in time?"
"Comes in waves, I think." Robin says as she plops down on anything handily horizontal nearby. "But this is a particulalry dramatic wave and has been going on for about the last ten years." She shrugs off-handedly. Robin's given up on it ever 'calming down.'
"I think Prince Caine doesn't like surprises. Which puts him in a particularly grumpy spot these days. Or years." She rolls her eyes.
"Listen, Brij? Did you know your father?"
Brij looks up abruptly. "No, not really." She laughs. "It's so weird being here, like a fresh start. No one believed my mother, you know. It was a big family scandal. She was 'an unwed mother', which was pretty horrible in her day. Her mysterious 'forest man' and his even more mysterious father were stories and drawings she showed me growing up.
"I used to make up stories about them, to try to explain why he wasn't there for me. Sometimes I hated him, sometimes not. That was part of being a kid like me, I guess.
"It's why I had to have a father for Folly. Because I didn't."
"She turned out pretty good, so you must've picked the right man for the job." Robin says with a sympathetic yet rueful smile for Brij. Just the thought of trying to raise a child without Vere? Brrrrrr.... Not good. And luckily not going to happen.
"I used to do the same thing about my Mom." Robin continues, "But as I got older and less and less like my Dad, I started to figure out why she couldn't be around. Turns out I was wrong. But I got used to there being a good reason and it stopped bothering me a long time ago.
"Oh, and I wanted to apologize for the... you know, lizard attack." Robin blushes. "The little ones were... really confused about what was going on and just trying to help. I've explained it to them and I don't think it will happen again."
"Huh? Oh, don't worry. I used to have dogs. Same thing. Anyway, Bleys and I talked about my father and I understand things now I never did before. I don't think he'd do well here. Not given what I hear about his brother. I guess it's sorta normal here to have just one parent."
"His brother?" Robin cocks her head. "Oh, Daeon. Yeah. Mysterious forest type. Did not do so well with the Family. I miss him." Robin shakes her head sadly. But shakes it off.
"Yep. Lots of us have just one parent. Some of us have two. Several were raised by folks who didn't do any of the actual breeding." Robin touches her heart. "And some of us came into being in ways that can't properly be defined as breeding. So we're not snobbish about origin. Though almost all of us are a little sensitive about our own sources. Go figure." Robin shrugs.
She nods. "I'm doing my best to go figure, actually. For instance, I'm pretty sure Bleys and his family are so close because of his brothers. I can see it even now, and they're, what hundreds of years from their childhoods? It helps that they really like each other, but it's such an obvious pattern.
Brij pauses, and looks up. Her small gymnast's frame is actually remarkably like Fiona's, although she's clearly spent a lot more time in the sun. "Who do you think of as your parents, Robin?"
"My father is Julian." Robin says firmly with a big grin. "Though breeding-wise, he's technically my Uncle. The lady who raised me was a Ranger named Rattle. She's dead now, but did a hell of a job while alive. I know my breeding mother was a Princess named Ysabeau but I never met the living her and I gather she was... well, real trouble. I have no idea who my breeding father was and even though it's stupid, I don't really care to know. Whoever he was, he's never going to stand up to having Julian as a Dad, so why bother?" Robin finishes with a happy shrug.
"Boy, it's hard to think of my Aunts and Uncles as children. And whenever I do," Robin wrinkles her nose, "poor bastards."
Brij nods. "We may have had it easier, although 'poor bastards' applies to me as well, that's what people assumed, anyway."
Robin blinks in confusion for a moment as she recalls the original meaning of the word. She chuckles as she realizes how lucky she is not to always be thinking of that meaning first. And nods sympathetically to Brij.
Brij reaches up and pushes her hair out of her face, tucking all but a few rebellious strands behind her ears. She looks like she could be nineteen rather than the mother of the bride. "It is harder for me to keep up with people, especially family. If it weren't for Bleys helping me, I'd still have no idea who half of my uncles are." She smiles. "If that's my worst problem, I'll be fine."
"I knnnnooooowwww!" Robin sighs. "Dad set me to learning the names and lineages of all my cousins. And that is a truly moving target. Hey, Brij? Do you know who Meg or Signy are, by chance?"
"Signy I saw when Huey escaped, but I don't think we spoke. Meg, is ... crap. Bleys told me this one. Merlin's daughter? No. Not his daughter. His sister, I think." Brij scrunches up her face when she's thinking hard in a way that emphasizes her resemblance to Folly.
"Merlin's sister? But not Celina's sister?" Luckily, none of the smart kids are around as Brij and Robin work this out. "Do you know who Signy's related to? Oo! And have any more popped up since you and Silhouette?"
"I think Meg and Celina are different kinds of green," Brij replies with a grin. "And Signy is the sister of Marius by Wayland. And I haven't heard of anyone else new, but who knows? If everyone is like Bleys, there are plenty of us out there somewhere." The grin gets much bigger.
Robin snorts in amusement.
Then her brow furrows, "Meg is forest-green?" Hmmmmmm, well that makes sense. After all, Corwin was Warden of Arden before Finndo and Julian. And somehow, it just seemed wrong that he -- of all people -- be the only one who didn't breed there.
"No, wait. That doesn't work. Ooooooog. She shares a mo... feminine-principal spawning element with Merlin?" Robin looks concerned and slightly nauseated.
Brij shrugs. "We can ask them when they get back from the funeral." She frowns, momentarily. "Shouldn't you be packing, or are you travelling light?"
"Ah, I can't go, Brij." Robin ruffles sadly. "I... I've got something like an allergy to Paris. If I go there... it will be Bad. Worse than the trouble I'm going to get into for not going."
Brij nods, not really understanding. "Alright. I don't want to go, either, but Bleys tells me I'm too new to know how to break the rules, so I'm tagging along. I didn't even know Luke.
Robin nods. "My Dad told me the same thing. About trousers." She presses her lips together, that was one she thought about carefully before deciding to break while in Xanadu, before moving herself along.
"Thing is, even if you don't know or don't like Family? We kind of have to band together to stave off the universe. Sooooo, being courteous doesn't hurt. And who knows? Maybe a hundred years from now, you'll become familiar with Lucas through some legacy of his or another. I think you might have liked him and it seems a shame to miss the opportunity to brush briefly against his life before it becomes all legendy."
Brij smiles. "Sounds like good advice. I'll remember that."
"We're going to try to spend some time in Paris, if the King permits. It's supposed to be like Xanadu, but older and have better shopping." She leans on her small valise on the bed. "Who knows, maybe I'll re-publish my books there. I always liked fame and fortune."
"That makes a lot of sense." Robin nods, thinking about what she knows of both Brij and Paris. "Though I'll miss you." She smiles sadly, "Of course, I only drift in for Events anyway. So we probably wouldn't meet that often even if you were based out of Xanadu."
"Ah, well..." Robin fluffs as she stands, "I'd better let you get back to it." And she bounces over to her niece for a hug.
"Right now, I'm vacationing. Or learning the ropes. Or preparing for the wedding. My daughter is as big as a planet. I suspect I'll be based wherever she is for a bit." Brij leans in and gives Robin a kiss on the cheek, or at least kisses the air near her cheek. Kissing sounds happen, whether or not lips touch skin.
Robin's brows rise. Okkaaaayy, civilized manners in action. Weird. But she grins, releases Brij and bounces back out the door with a backward wave.
Last modified: 28 May 2010