Equinox Sidhe
- Thread starter Knosis
- Start date
As written by Knosis and Ottoman
The halls of Sidhe were unusually silent as its inhabitants mourned the passing of their lady. The stones, which normally radiated the warmth of the furnaces that roared below seemed unnormally cold and frost bitten as well. The skies over the capital were clouded and a slow snow fall had begun. It seemed the whole world felt the loss of not just one life, but the child as well.
Keegan sat alone in one of the many sitting rooms, staring lost in the flames someone had set in the fireplace while he hadn't noticed. His eyes, normally kind and caring were red rimmed and just as cloudy as the outside. He hadn't slept in near in two days, and the near empty half keg of ale suggested he hadn't had anything but liquor to keep his stomach full. Few people had come in to talk to him, to share their condolences. A few had even made hints that he should find company to share his grief with.
He leaned over and tried to refill his mug with the ale, only to find that the keg seemed empty. The keg had been given as a gift to celebrate life, the birth of his first child. His son, Aodh. Instead, it turned into a condolence.
Slowly, stumbling around half drunk, he made for the door with the sole purpose to find more. Anything to make him forget Ailise. The huge man crashed through the door, the sound resounding through the hallways like a rude gesture.
The chieftain was well on his way to finding his lord when the rather boisterous crash echoed down the passage, giving some pause to Colwyn's gait. Was it born of anger, or accident? With a light shake of his head, he pressed on, all the more eager to find Rouke were the latter the case. They'd warned him Keegan was drinking, the servants, and Colwyn honestly couldn't blame him. Fhionnlaigh was no stranger to dead children, but a dead wife?
It was a tragedy, and for Keegan it was a liability.
In sharp contrast to the lord of the north, the bulky form of Colwyn Fhionnlaigh peeked into the hall that branched off into the sitting room Keegan had erupted from, his gauntleted hand have caught the latch gently, silently, as he sought to see what the case was. It wouldn't do to alarm the man, though, seeing the state he was in, Colwyn wondered if he could be alarmed. A sigh slipped past his typically joyous features as he moved into the hall, leaving the door ajar behind him, approaching Keegan as softly as one his size could manage.
Though the chieftain of the Amber Reach wore a longsword at his side, no hand dared move near it - it was kept as a symbol today, nothing more - the both of them instead clasped before his figure. Colwyn would make no move to touch or help the Northern Lord, at least not until it was quite obvious he needed it, standing at a respectful distance as he announced himself subtly, without pomp or ceremony. Snow, still flecked on the chieftain's fur cloak, found itself shed as the elder pushed back his hood, a gloved hand running across his head in thought.
"Your grief is ours, lord Rouke." Came the rumbling words, spoken from a bowed head, "A-... can I help?" The lapse in his speech was due more for concern born from the sight of Sidhe's master.
The young lord blinked, his stormy grey eyes coming from a long distance as he realized that he was flat on his back in the middle of a stone hallway. Curious how he ended up there, he gazed around, missing his comrade several times in his drunken state. He muttered something incomprehensible to himself before finding a way to roll over to his side and from there to a swaying position on his feet.
It was then, when Colwyn spoke up, that Keegan realized he was not alone. He jolted in alarm and squinted at the man, one hand reaching for his blade which he had had the forethought to hand to someone before he had started drinking his sorrow. A minute more would pass, and the lord of the north would stumble closer, grabbing hold of Colwyn and pulling him close, still squinting.
"C-Colwyn?" His deep voice asked, unsure. "Gods, when ya get so feckin' ugleh.." He muttered. An epiphany hit him and his red rimmed eyes grew wide. "Ya tripped me, ya bastard! Can a man walk around 'is own 'ome without ya pullin' childish pranks like tha, eh? Ya always was a sneaky son-of-a.." He scowled. "Come on, 'elp me find the cellar and we can 'ave a drink."
The banter was enough to draw a smile to Colwyn's face, the man wondering if it was the drink or his presence that brought that out in him - though to smell Rouke's breath was enough to tell him that his liquor likely had a great deal to do with it. A supportive arm came about Keegan's form, helping to balance the chief of chiefs as he clung to Colwyn, drawing him up properly. "When I smelled that on your breath." Was the playful retort, the chieftain wondering how best to divy his words between sympathy and camaraderie.
"On one condition," The elder of the two proposed, already turning to lead the man about, back the way he'd come. "That you lie down once we're done." If he were to drink, and drink properly, in this state? He'd do good to be carried out afterwards. There was no harm in drinking so, in Colwyn's eyes, so long as he was chaperoned.
Keegan had earned the right to do it, after all.
"Hah." The man said softly. "Now ya sound like me mam." He complained and waved it off. But it was obvious where is thoughts had turned to when the silence over took him again, his stormy hues growing distant again and his face seemed to age about 40 years.
"I'm glad yo're 'ere.." The huge man said quietly, although his words seemed half-hearted. "I need a brother righ' now, not another loyal chieftain.. An' yer the closest I 'ave to a brother.." He muttered, his eyes growing misty. He chuckled, and the hollow sound seemed half broken, half choked as it left his barrel of a chest. "Ya ain't like the rest of the vultures waitin' on me to emerge from the bottom 'o' me cup.."
"Someone has to." Colwyn managed before his lord fell silent once more, the burly chieftain electing not to interrupt the younger man's thoughts. It wouldn't do to upset him any more than he already was, and right now any talk of family was likely best to be avoided. The late queen - was that even the proper term? - was a good woman, just as her husband had been, and Colwyn remembered well how the Rouke family had consoled him at the death of his father.
A light guffaw came of Fhionnlaigh at that - another loyal chieftain - muted as it was by the sullen mood that was cast over everything. The lord knew him well enough - between three daughters and the amberworks of his home, Colwyn didn't want to see another shred of responsibility. Some men, even some women, hungered and lusted for power, plotting and planning to take it however they could.
It was more work than it was worth, in Colwyn's opinion.
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, right now." The chief offered quietly, helping his lord along as they moved. "I came as soon as I heard." A long, hard ride, and a cold one too - but those were small prices to pay, compared to Keegan's loss. A narrowed brow and curious, dark eyes turned to the young lord, a purposefully vague question coming from the thoughts that Fhionnlaigh kept to himself. "... you haven't been having any trouble out of them, have you?" The other clans, the other chieftains. There was a time and place for politics, and this wasn't it.
The halls of Sidhe were unusually silent as its inhabitants mourned the passing of their lady. The stones, which normally radiated the warmth of the furnaces that roared below seemed unnormally cold and frost bitten as well. The skies over the capital were clouded and a slow snow fall had begun. It seemed the whole world felt the loss of not just one life, but the child as well.
Keegan sat alone in one of the many sitting rooms, staring lost in the flames someone had set in the fireplace while he hadn't noticed. His eyes, normally kind and caring were red rimmed and just as cloudy as the outside. He hadn't slept in near in two days, and the near empty half keg of ale suggested he hadn't had anything but liquor to keep his stomach full. Few people had come in to talk to him, to share their condolences. A few had even made hints that he should find company to share his grief with.
He leaned over and tried to refill his mug with the ale, only to find that the keg seemed empty. The keg had been given as a gift to celebrate life, the birth of his first child. His son, Aodh. Instead, it turned into a condolence.
Slowly, stumbling around half drunk, he made for the door with the sole purpose to find more. Anything to make him forget Ailise. The huge man crashed through the door, the sound resounding through the hallways like a rude gesture.
The chieftain was well on his way to finding his lord when the rather boisterous crash echoed down the passage, giving some pause to Colwyn's gait. Was it born of anger, or accident? With a light shake of his head, he pressed on, all the more eager to find Rouke were the latter the case. They'd warned him Keegan was drinking, the servants, and Colwyn honestly couldn't blame him. Fhionnlaigh was no stranger to dead children, but a dead wife?
It was a tragedy, and for Keegan it was a liability.
In sharp contrast to the lord of the north, the bulky form of Colwyn Fhionnlaigh peeked into the hall that branched off into the sitting room Keegan had erupted from, his gauntleted hand have caught the latch gently, silently, as he sought to see what the case was. It wouldn't do to alarm the man, though, seeing the state he was in, Colwyn wondered if he could be alarmed. A sigh slipped past his typically joyous features as he moved into the hall, leaving the door ajar behind him, approaching Keegan as softly as one his size could manage.
Though the chieftain of the Amber Reach wore a longsword at his side, no hand dared move near it - it was kept as a symbol today, nothing more - the both of them instead clasped before his figure. Colwyn would make no move to touch or help the Northern Lord, at least not until it was quite obvious he needed it, standing at a respectful distance as he announced himself subtly, without pomp or ceremony. Snow, still flecked on the chieftain's fur cloak, found itself shed as the elder pushed back his hood, a gloved hand running across his head in thought.
"Your grief is ours, lord Rouke." Came the rumbling words, spoken from a bowed head, "A-... can I help?" The lapse in his speech was due more for concern born from the sight of Sidhe's master.
The young lord blinked, his stormy grey eyes coming from a long distance as he realized that he was flat on his back in the middle of a stone hallway. Curious how he ended up there, he gazed around, missing his comrade several times in his drunken state. He muttered something incomprehensible to himself before finding a way to roll over to his side and from there to a swaying position on his feet.
It was then, when Colwyn spoke up, that Keegan realized he was not alone. He jolted in alarm and squinted at the man, one hand reaching for his blade which he had had the forethought to hand to someone before he had started drinking his sorrow. A minute more would pass, and the lord of the north would stumble closer, grabbing hold of Colwyn and pulling him close, still squinting.
"C-Colwyn?" His deep voice asked, unsure. "Gods, when ya get so feckin' ugleh.." He muttered. An epiphany hit him and his red rimmed eyes grew wide. "Ya tripped me, ya bastard! Can a man walk around 'is own 'ome without ya pullin' childish pranks like tha, eh? Ya always was a sneaky son-of-a.." He scowled. "Come on, 'elp me find the cellar and we can 'ave a drink."
The banter was enough to draw a smile to Colwyn's face, the man wondering if it was the drink or his presence that brought that out in him - though to smell Rouke's breath was enough to tell him that his liquor likely had a great deal to do with it. A supportive arm came about Keegan's form, helping to balance the chief of chiefs as he clung to Colwyn, drawing him up properly. "When I smelled that on your breath." Was the playful retort, the chieftain wondering how best to divy his words between sympathy and camaraderie.
"On one condition," The elder of the two proposed, already turning to lead the man about, back the way he'd come. "That you lie down once we're done." If he were to drink, and drink properly, in this state? He'd do good to be carried out afterwards. There was no harm in drinking so, in Colwyn's eyes, so long as he was chaperoned.
Keegan had earned the right to do it, after all.
"Hah." The man said softly. "Now ya sound like me mam." He complained and waved it off. But it was obvious where is thoughts had turned to when the silence over took him again, his stormy hues growing distant again and his face seemed to age about 40 years.
"I'm glad yo're 'ere.." The huge man said quietly, although his words seemed half-hearted. "I need a brother righ' now, not another loyal chieftain.. An' yer the closest I 'ave to a brother.." He muttered, his eyes growing misty. He chuckled, and the hollow sound seemed half broken, half choked as it left his barrel of a chest. "Ya ain't like the rest of the vultures waitin' on me to emerge from the bottom 'o' me cup.."
"Someone has to." Colwyn managed before his lord fell silent once more, the burly chieftain electing not to interrupt the younger man's thoughts. It wouldn't do to upset him any more than he already was, and right now any talk of family was likely best to be avoided. The late queen - was that even the proper term? - was a good woman, just as her husband had been, and Colwyn remembered well how the Rouke family had consoled him at the death of his father.
A light guffaw came of Fhionnlaigh at that - another loyal chieftain - muted as it was by the sullen mood that was cast over everything. The lord knew him well enough - between three daughters and the amberworks of his home, Colwyn didn't want to see another shred of responsibility. Some men, even some women, hungered and lusted for power, plotting and planning to take it however they could.
It was more work than it was worth, in Colwyn's opinion.
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, right now." The chief offered quietly, helping his lord along as they moved. "I came as soon as I heard." A long, hard ride, and a cold one too - but those were small prices to pay, compared to Keegan's loss. A narrowed brow and curious, dark eyes turned to the young lord, a purposefully vague question coming from the thoughts that Fhionnlaigh kept to himself. "... you haven't been having any trouble out of them, have you?" The other clans, the other chieftains. There was a time and place for politics, and this wasn't it.
As written by Knosis and Ottoman
The man made the broken sound again, though there was a flare of light in his eyes. Anger.
"Duncan was 'ere that night an' has been pushin' 'is whore of a daughter on me for near on two days now.. Ailise wasn't even.." He groaned, an animalistic sound of pain that resounded from the man's very soul. He found himself unable to finish his sentence as he rubbed his face, hiding the tears that fell.
He coughed, having no success to clear the lump in his throat as he continued, leaning heavily on his comrade as he was in no condition to trust his own legs to get him to his destination. "Not all of 'em are like that.. But you can tell which ones are just bidin' their time.. Just waitin'.. You can see it.. They don't mean their condolences.. They're 'appy. Another chance at power, another shot to claim the seat.. They speak like silks, bu' there are blades under those fabrics.." He snorted.
"The rest of 'em are waitin'. But they are subtle with it already. 'Me daughter's and I brought you gifts fer condolences, my lord.' 'The lass thought to bring you a blanket, me lord, to keep you warm in your time of grieving..' Bah..!" He waved his hand angrily.
Of course there was sympathy in Colwyn's heart for the man he helped carry along, helpful servants pointing the way as needed - as the Amber Chief didn't know these halls as they did - but to hear how the others were already foisting themselves on him, coupled with the simple noise the man made at times, was enough to bring pity to Fhionnlaigh. To have politics and policy effectively tossed on him, days, or even hours, after his wife and son had passed? It was cruel.
A time of celebration had been twisted into a time of grief and sorrow, and the actions of these 'nobles', who Keegan had so aptly coined vultures, only exasperated it.
The elder man helped the other into a seat, easing him into the wooden chair as best he could. "Come here, up-" He muttered, pulling the lord to sit up properly, not caring that it might damage whatever finery he wore. "Sit up, Keegan. It'll help your cough." He knew why the man coughed, but paid him the courtesy of feigned ignorance. It had been a compliment - an honor - that the other was willing to shed his tears about him, but to see a man of his station, of his lineage, brought to such only fueled his own fury.
Ignorant as Colwyn might be of the world, of the learned south and the ways of court, of protocol and ettiquette, the man did pride himself on his word and his name - one's honor and legacy were the only things that truly belonged to them. To see that his 'comrades' would push their lord into such a state churned his stomach and blighted his heart.
"... there'll be no more of them, so long as I'm here, Keegan." Fhionnlaigh offered, taking a brief knee beside his lord at that note. "I can stay as long as you need." Vetting those who came to offer their condolences to the man, to try and filter out the opportunists and scavengers.
The young lord sat up as instructed, taking a deep breath to steady and compose himself once more. He was silently thankful for the man who was at his side now and he gaze came to the present once more to study Colwyn in silence for a moment.
Keegan knew what he needed to do, although it would wound his pride further. Even through sluggish thoughts, he knew this political battle was going to be a nasty one. There were those who vied for his position, and this was his time of weakness. He needed an ally, a brother who could help him get through the turmoil until he had healed enough to stand on his own.
".. I hate to ask you to remain here in Sidhe, Colwyn. Your family needs you, as well as your clan.." He said quietly, his words sober and pained. "But you and I both know what is comin', and I've got no one left I can trust to keep my back from bein' stabbed. I need you here, watchin' my back and to 'elp me stand back up, brother." Tears welled in his eyes again.
"Stay here. Just for a short time. Yer family's more than welcome to stay here as well, if you'd like. Just.. Please." The Northern lord didn't finish his sentence, but he had made his point clear. He was pleading, no, near begging at this point. Be it the ale dulling his pride, or he had been pushed passed the point of caring anymore was yet to be seen. Keegan had always been the type to help others and never accept help for himself. In his short time, he had been a very benevolent leader, making sure others had enough and saying he always had plenty despite the North's hardships. The words unspoken had been clear: 'Help me.'
The chieftain bowed his head, otherwise shaved clean for the strip down the center that ran for the length of his crown, a display of respect, not simply of obedience. Tradition had him obey his lord - he knew it the right thing to do - but his heart called him to follow the other, because it felt right to do so. "Keegan-" The elder started, his rolling voice stilled in thought and, upon looking back to his friend, feeling. The Lord of the North, coming to him, like this?
A gloved hand, not unlike the paw of a bear, reached for one of Rouke's own, setting upon it with a firm, if understanding, grasp. "You needn't ask me." It was something he would take of himself, were it Rouke's will, without a second thought. "And you need never beg." It was a service to the Lord of the North, a small price to pay, as Keegan served them all.
Aye, his family needed him, as did his home, but so too did his Lord. They could manage at home, his blood and his kin, as they always had - they weren't the feeble sort. Colwyn would have word sent as to his duty here, and they would understand the severity of his task. "I'm your man." One final, firm squeeze of the other's hand came before Colwyn took it back, head bowed once more, briefly, before he moved to stand.
He could only hope someone would be so kind to him, where he in such a position.
"Now, you promised me something to drink, and I ain't seen a whit of it yet." Fhionnlaigh offered with a smile, his arm offered to the Lord, were it that he needed it to rise from where he sat.
Keegan gave a small smile in return, and relief spread across his features. He wasn't better, but the age melted away from his eyes and he looked somewhat hopeful again, albeit slight.
"Aye, I have. Must of lost my bloody mind when I promised ye a drink, as you'll drink the cellars clean." He jested in a grumble. "Gonna have to have some of them stashed away, hidden so ya can't sniff'em out." He took the man's arm and pulled himself up, slapping his arm around the man's shoulder. "'round the bloody corner and down the 'all and we'll drink our fill."
The man made the broken sound again, though there was a flare of light in his eyes. Anger.
"Duncan was 'ere that night an' has been pushin' 'is whore of a daughter on me for near on two days now.. Ailise wasn't even.." He groaned, an animalistic sound of pain that resounded from the man's very soul. He found himself unable to finish his sentence as he rubbed his face, hiding the tears that fell.
He coughed, having no success to clear the lump in his throat as he continued, leaning heavily on his comrade as he was in no condition to trust his own legs to get him to his destination. "Not all of 'em are like that.. But you can tell which ones are just bidin' their time.. Just waitin'.. You can see it.. They don't mean their condolences.. They're 'appy. Another chance at power, another shot to claim the seat.. They speak like silks, bu' there are blades under those fabrics.." He snorted.
"The rest of 'em are waitin'. But they are subtle with it already. 'Me daughter's and I brought you gifts fer condolences, my lord.' 'The lass thought to bring you a blanket, me lord, to keep you warm in your time of grieving..' Bah..!" He waved his hand angrily.
Of course there was sympathy in Colwyn's heart for the man he helped carry along, helpful servants pointing the way as needed - as the Amber Chief didn't know these halls as they did - but to hear how the others were already foisting themselves on him, coupled with the simple noise the man made at times, was enough to bring pity to Fhionnlaigh. To have politics and policy effectively tossed on him, days, or even hours, after his wife and son had passed? It was cruel.
A time of celebration had been twisted into a time of grief and sorrow, and the actions of these 'nobles', who Keegan had so aptly coined vultures, only exasperated it.
The elder man helped the other into a seat, easing him into the wooden chair as best he could. "Come here, up-" He muttered, pulling the lord to sit up properly, not caring that it might damage whatever finery he wore. "Sit up, Keegan. It'll help your cough." He knew why the man coughed, but paid him the courtesy of feigned ignorance. It had been a compliment - an honor - that the other was willing to shed his tears about him, but to see a man of his station, of his lineage, brought to such only fueled his own fury.
Ignorant as Colwyn might be of the world, of the learned south and the ways of court, of protocol and ettiquette, the man did pride himself on his word and his name - one's honor and legacy were the only things that truly belonged to them. To see that his 'comrades' would push their lord into such a state churned his stomach and blighted his heart.
"... there'll be no more of them, so long as I'm here, Keegan." Fhionnlaigh offered, taking a brief knee beside his lord at that note. "I can stay as long as you need." Vetting those who came to offer their condolences to the man, to try and filter out the opportunists and scavengers.
The young lord sat up as instructed, taking a deep breath to steady and compose himself once more. He was silently thankful for the man who was at his side now and he gaze came to the present once more to study Colwyn in silence for a moment.
Keegan knew what he needed to do, although it would wound his pride further. Even through sluggish thoughts, he knew this political battle was going to be a nasty one. There were those who vied for his position, and this was his time of weakness. He needed an ally, a brother who could help him get through the turmoil until he had healed enough to stand on his own.
".. I hate to ask you to remain here in Sidhe, Colwyn. Your family needs you, as well as your clan.." He said quietly, his words sober and pained. "But you and I both know what is comin', and I've got no one left I can trust to keep my back from bein' stabbed. I need you here, watchin' my back and to 'elp me stand back up, brother." Tears welled in his eyes again.
"Stay here. Just for a short time. Yer family's more than welcome to stay here as well, if you'd like. Just.. Please." The Northern lord didn't finish his sentence, but he had made his point clear. He was pleading, no, near begging at this point. Be it the ale dulling his pride, or he had been pushed passed the point of caring anymore was yet to be seen. Keegan had always been the type to help others and never accept help for himself. In his short time, he had been a very benevolent leader, making sure others had enough and saying he always had plenty despite the North's hardships. The words unspoken had been clear: 'Help me.'
The chieftain bowed his head, otherwise shaved clean for the strip down the center that ran for the length of his crown, a display of respect, not simply of obedience. Tradition had him obey his lord - he knew it the right thing to do - but his heart called him to follow the other, because it felt right to do so. "Keegan-" The elder started, his rolling voice stilled in thought and, upon looking back to his friend, feeling. The Lord of the North, coming to him, like this?
A gloved hand, not unlike the paw of a bear, reached for one of Rouke's own, setting upon it with a firm, if understanding, grasp. "You needn't ask me." It was something he would take of himself, were it Rouke's will, without a second thought. "And you need never beg." It was a service to the Lord of the North, a small price to pay, as Keegan served them all.
Aye, his family needed him, as did his home, but so too did his Lord. They could manage at home, his blood and his kin, as they always had - they weren't the feeble sort. Colwyn would have word sent as to his duty here, and they would understand the severity of his task. "I'm your man." One final, firm squeeze of the other's hand came before Colwyn took it back, head bowed once more, briefly, before he moved to stand.
He could only hope someone would be so kind to him, where he in such a position.
"Now, you promised me something to drink, and I ain't seen a whit of it yet." Fhionnlaigh offered with a smile, his arm offered to the Lord, were it that he needed it to rise from where he sat.
Keegan gave a small smile in return, and relief spread across his features. He wasn't better, but the age melted away from his eyes and he looked somewhat hopeful again, albeit slight.
"Aye, I have. Must of lost my bloody mind when I promised ye a drink, as you'll drink the cellars clean." He jested in a grumble. "Gonna have to have some of them stashed away, hidden so ya can't sniff'em out." He took the man's arm and pulled himself up, slapping his arm around the man's shoulder. "'round the bloody corner and down the 'all and we'll drink our fill."
As written by Script, Ottoman, and Knosis
"I don feckin' care what you think I should be doin'!" Keegan's voice roared before something crashed and shattered. The resounding boom that followed suggested a chair was thrown. "Get out!" Keegan's voice sounded again. The poor maid bursted out the door, scampering to keep her balance as she hurried along out of the room from the raging lord of the north.
Keegan scowled as he picked up the chair he had toppled over in his sudden burst of rage and the mug that had been disgarded as well off the table. Drinking again. He had been nearly a week since his wife's passing, and the young lord had not gotten from the bottom of the mug long enough to even grace his dearly departed wife with a proper funeral.
The maid’s flight took her past Nessa in the hallway, as she bore down on Keegan’s living quarters with a purposeful stride. She spared the terrified girl only the briefest of irritated glances before continuing on, shoving the door open and stepping into view.
Keegan’s older sister was an imposing woman. Though her height was scarcely above average, she had the strong build and broad shoulders of a warrior, and carried herself with the fierce confidence of a predator. “Keegan.” Her voice held no anger when she spoke the northern lord’s name, but though her tone was soft, it had a warning edge of severity to it.
Nessa had arrived only recently at the hold, having journeyed from her home with one of the other clans, where she led alongside her husband. She and Keegan had yet to speak at length, and now the reason why was apparent. She had been able to guess as much.
“This has to stop.”
The man had just turned to sit down in the aforementioned chair when the woman spoke. He paused, looked down at the heavy drink he held, and continued to settle himself into the chair as he downed part of the drink.
"Aye, its got'ta." He agreed with her. "People tellin' me what I should be doin', what is proper, tha' I should be sleepin' and eatin', that I'm gonna make myself sick if I don' take better care of meself." He growled, his accent more burly than normal due to the level of intoxication he was at. "When do ya people tell the Lord of the feckin' North wha' 'e should and should not be doin'? Eh?!"
“When the Lord of the feckin’ North is drivin’ himself into the ground, that’s when, Keegan Rouke,” Nessa replied with a scowl, moving further into the room. “For sure as anything, if you keep goin’ the way you’re goin’, you’ll take the kingdom with you. Now I don’t bloody well give a damn if you want to act the fool about your own health, you drunk bastard, but you’ve a lot of people relying on you, an’ you know it.”
Nessa strode over to the window, where the curtains were drawn and casting the room in shadow, only lit by the roaring fire. She threw them back with a single forceful motion, letting the daylight flood in. “Take a moment to tear your eyes away from your mug and look outside,” she demanded, turning back to face him. “There’s a whole kingdom out there that needs you, Lord of the North. You can’t lock yourself away with your drink forever.”
The surrogate steward of Sidhe had been tending to business, as much as managing visitors could be considered business, and so had thought little of letting Nessa along - if anything, it was only proper. Keegan wasn't often pleased to see anyone these days, but the man had no grounds to turn away blood. So to hear that the man had thrown a chair, even if the word was from a shaken servant, gave the chieftain some pause.
The broad-set northerner moved through the halls to Keegan's retreat, the room that he seemed to prefer hiding himself in, and thought little of approaching without announcing himself - whatever problem lord Rouke would have with him doing so could be dismissed easily enough in his drunken state, and it wasn't anything to do with the Lord of the North that stopped him in his tracks as he rounded the corner to that hallway.
No, no it was Nessa's voice, which held far more authority in its words than Keegan's had of late, that stilled his pace. Judging from the tone, Colwyn figured that Nessa wasn't on the receiving end of the thrown chair, so he held back for now, keen to listen and not interrupt what sense Nessa might drive into her brother.
The man winced as the sudden light came into the room. "I don't give a damn about the kingdom right now, Nessa." He roared. "It isn't goin' ta bloody well burn itself to the feckin' ground without me 'oldin' everybody's hands for a time and managin' everyone's problems." He stood up and turned his back on his sister and the open window.
His shoulders slackened slightly. "I've not a night's peace for a week.." He muttered, rubbing his face.
“Aye, perhaps not,” Nessa conceded, her tone softening somewhat when Keegan lowered his voice. “Perhaps it can go on without you for a while. But not forever.”
She stepped across the room to place a hand on her younger brother’s shoulder. “I know you’re hurtin’, Keegan. I know how much they meant to you. But this,” she gestured around, “throwing furniture at a poor girl who’s only looking out for your health? Is this what she would’ve wanted?”
"No one feckin' cares about my health. Servant girls are no exempt to this." Keegan grumped, shrugging off her hand off his shoulder and moving away from his elder sister. "Most are ou' there plottin' how to get one of their daughters to replace Ailise's spot in me bed so they have their family in the head chief's graces. They only care about my power. Should know that best ya'self."
Colwyn sighed at the sound of their voices, glad that the tone of the conversation seemed to be leveling off. The last thing that he felt up to at the moment was breaking apart any sort of physical confrontation between the two - the man didn't put them past it, he never put any of his folk past it really. Gently he resumed his pace, approaching and knocking gently on the ajar door, announcing his presence. "Lord Keegan, lady Nessa. I trust all is well?"
His free hand had tucked its thumb into his belt, intentionally keeping it from his blade, not wanting to send the wrong message. "I heard there was a uh... commotion."
“Aye, because a serving girl’s no doubt got some hidden agenda, you daft oaf,” Nessa shook her head. “I won’t deny what you say’s true of some of the chiefs, but there’s plenty that have more honour than that. Eirik, Istrid, Rulke – just to name a few.”
She folded her arms, about to continue when Colwyn entered the room. She turned to face him with a sympathetic smile. Gods knew, the man must have had his work cut out for him the past week. “Aye, there was. But we’re alright, all things considered.”
"I don feckin' care what you think I should be doin'!" Keegan's voice roared before something crashed and shattered. The resounding boom that followed suggested a chair was thrown. "Get out!" Keegan's voice sounded again. The poor maid bursted out the door, scampering to keep her balance as she hurried along out of the room from the raging lord of the north.
Keegan scowled as he picked up the chair he had toppled over in his sudden burst of rage and the mug that had been disgarded as well off the table. Drinking again. He had been nearly a week since his wife's passing, and the young lord had not gotten from the bottom of the mug long enough to even grace his dearly departed wife with a proper funeral.
The maid’s flight took her past Nessa in the hallway, as she bore down on Keegan’s living quarters with a purposeful stride. She spared the terrified girl only the briefest of irritated glances before continuing on, shoving the door open and stepping into view.
Keegan’s older sister was an imposing woman. Though her height was scarcely above average, she had the strong build and broad shoulders of a warrior, and carried herself with the fierce confidence of a predator. “Keegan.” Her voice held no anger when she spoke the northern lord’s name, but though her tone was soft, it had a warning edge of severity to it.
Nessa had arrived only recently at the hold, having journeyed from her home with one of the other clans, where she led alongside her husband. She and Keegan had yet to speak at length, and now the reason why was apparent. She had been able to guess as much.
“This has to stop.”
The man had just turned to sit down in the aforementioned chair when the woman spoke. He paused, looked down at the heavy drink he held, and continued to settle himself into the chair as he downed part of the drink.
"Aye, its got'ta." He agreed with her. "People tellin' me what I should be doin', what is proper, tha' I should be sleepin' and eatin', that I'm gonna make myself sick if I don' take better care of meself." He growled, his accent more burly than normal due to the level of intoxication he was at. "When do ya people tell the Lord of the feckin' North wha' 'e should and should not be doin'? Eh?!"
“When the Lord of the feckin’ North is drivin’ himself into the ground, that’s when, Keegan Rouke,” Nessa replied with a scowl, moving further into the room. “For sure as anything, if you keep goin’ the way you’re goin’, you’ll take the kingdom with you. Now I don’t bloody well give a damn if you want to act the fool about your own health, you drunk bastard, but you’ve a lot of people relying on you, an’ you know it.”
Nessa strode over to the window, where the curtains were drawn and casting the room in shadow, only lit by the roaring fire. She threw them back with a single forceful motion, letting the daylight flood in. “Take a moment to tear your eyes away from your mug and look outside,” she demanded, turning back to face him. “There’s a whole kingdom out there that needs you, Lord of the North. You can’t lock yourself away with your drink forever.”
The surrogate steward of Sidhe had been tending to business, as much as managing visitors could be considered business, and so had thought little of letting Nessa along - if anything, it was only proper. Keegan wasn't often pleased to see anyone these days, but the man had no grounds to turn away blood. So to hear that the man had thrown a chair, even if the word was from a shaken servant, gave the chieftain some pause.
The broad-set northerner moved through the halls to Keegan's retreat, the room that he seemed to prefer hiding himself in, and thought little of approaching without announcing himself - whatever problem lord Rouke would have with him doing so could be dismissed easily enough in his drunken state, and it wasn't anything to do with the Lord of the North that stopped him in his tracks as he rounded the corner to that hallway.
No, no it was Nessa's voice, which held far more authority in its words than Keegan's had of late, that stilled his pace. Judging from the tone, Colwyn figured that Nessa wasn't on the receiving end of the thrown chair, so he held back for now, keen to listen and not interrupt what sense Nessa might drive into her brother.
The man winced as the sudden light came into the room. "I don't give a damn about the kingdom right now, Nessa." He roared. "It isn't goin' ta bloody well burn itself to the feckin' ground without me 'oldin' everybody's hands for a time and managin' everyone's problems." He stood up and turned his back on his sister and the open window.
His shoulders slackened slightly. "I've not a night's peace for a week.." He muttered, rubbing his face.
“Aye, perhaps not,” Nessa conceded, her tone softening somewhat when Keegan lowered his voice. “Perhaps it can go on without you for a while. But not forever.”
She stepped across the room to place a hand on her younger brother’s shoulder. “I know you’re hurtin’, Keegan. I know how much they meant to you. But this,” she gestured around, “throwing furniture at a poor girl who’s only looking out for your health? Is this what she would’ve wanted?”
"No one feckin' cares about my health. Servant girls are no exempt to this." Keegan grumped, shrugging off her hand off his shoulder and moving away from his elder sister. "Most are ou' there plottin' how to get one of their daughters to replace Ailise's spot in me bed so they have their family in the head chief's graces. They only care about my power. Should know that best ya'self."
Colwyn sighed at the sound of their voices, glad that the tone of the conversation seemed to be leveling off. The last thing that he felt up to at the moment was breaking apart any sort of physical confrontation between the two - the man didn't put them past it, he never put any of his folk past it really. Gently he resumed his pace, approaching and knocking gently on the ajar door, announcing his presence. "Lord Keegan, lady Nessa. I trust all is well?"
His free hand had tucked its thumb into his belt, intentionally keeping it from his blade, not wanting to send the wrong message. "I heard there was a uh... commotion."
“Aye, because a serving girl’s no doubt got some hidden agenda, you daft oaf,” Nessa shook her head. “I won’t deny what you say’s true of some of the chiefs, but there’s plenty that have more honour than that. Eirik, Istrid, Rulke – just to name a few.”
She folded her arms, about to continue when Colwyn entered the room. She turned to face him with a sympathetic smile. Gods knew, the man must have had his work cut out for him the past week. “Aye, there was. But we’re alright, all things considered.”
As Written by Script, Ottoman, and Knosis
He finished off the mug and stumbled over to Colwyn and shrugged. "Women.." He muttered. "Always meddlin'.." He waived off the rest of that sentence.
"You would do ya'self a favor, woman, if you learned to see wha' everyone else in this bloody realm sees." He grumbled, though his temper had lowered quite a bit. "Those who take charge of the field 'ave the power to control the pawns. Pawns 'ave little power, but can use tools. Where as no everybody can be the King or Queen or the Rook or even the knight, everyone can be a tool, if they let in even the smallest crack of their judgement." He glared at Nessa. "A servant girl. A daughter of a Lord. Even a king given false information."
The chieftain was glad of it, happy to see that it was simply Keegan's temper at work and nothing more, nodding with a sigh as the Lord of the North imparted his sideways comment. There was some truth in it - women always did seem keen to offer their insights, and more - but between his daughters and his wife, Colwyn long ago gave up trying to fight it. He knew when to pick his battles.
Now the poor man was trying to discuss politics and philosophy after working his way to the bottom of a mug for at least the third time, or so it smelled. Fhionnlaigh sighed again as he glanced between the two of them and offered a slight bow of his head. "I'm but a word away, as always." He spoke, thinking it better that he duck out now, rather than get dragged into this discourse fully, backing out once he'd finished.
“I see it well enough, little brother,” Nessa snapped back, “but I don’t see it in every shadow. To fear an agent in every serving girl? That’s nothin’ short of paranoid. There’s being watchful, an’ then there’s coming up with an excuse for throwin’ a chair at a servant that isn’t ‘I’m too drunk to show restraint’.”
"Colwyn, don' leave me alone with this wench..!" He hissed in a hoarse whisper, although it was still loud enough, Nessa probably overheard it. Keegan grabbed after the man's shoulder when her words struck him. His eyes grew wide and he turned towards Nessa, the color of his pale face turning stark red with anger at her words.
"Too drunk to show restraint?" He asked, his words coming out slow. "Ye've known me all my life, and ya know 'ow bloody often I lose my temper, an' I only do so with good reason.. And you acuse me o' bloody well losin' my temper cause I'm too drunk?!" His voice rose with every word and he was back to shouting again. "That wee lass was in 'ere goin' on about, 'Oh, me lord, doncha think Duncan's daughter is pretty? She'd make a nice wife one day!' An' 'Oh me lord, if I should be so bold, the ladies won' like a drunkard. Ya need to start settin' ya'self straight if ya are to start lookin' for a new Lady of the North soon!'" The man growled.
"If I hadn't known any better, I'd be thinkin' you were 'ere to nag me about the same damn thing, Nessa. Perhaps you are 'ere to dig at Ailise's bones too, eh?! Is that wha' it is?! Ya always wanted the throne for yer'self, but the clans no accept a woman on it. So ya wait an' bided ya time, got a 'usband that the clans respect so ya can stab me in the back as soon as I'm wounded deeply?!?" He roared. "Fess up, ya bitch! If ya want me dead, face me front on and challenge me, none of this shadowy deceit business the rest of 'em are at!" He continued, feeling for his missing sword. Luckily, he hadn't spotted Colwyn's, else he probably would have reached for it.
Colwyn had found it amusing enough that the man had grabbed at him, worthy of a roll of the eyes, but to see the fit of rage - for lack of a better term - that he soon fell into put Fhionnlaigh into a defensive posture. Immediately his hand reached for his blade's hilt, if for no other reason than to secure it, and only allowed to much of Keegan's words as he could stomach.
"Keegan!" The chieftain bellowed, a voice that had been practiced for years in his own hall but never here, one tinged with authority and lacked the caring edge that Nessa's had possessed earlier. "That's enough. She's your sister, for the Gods' sake - your blood." There were some who would turn on their own, in the south, the west and elsewhere, but Colwyn, idealistic Colwyn, put his people above that. "Speak ill once more and you'll do good to speak at all when I'm through with you."
“The man who stands before me now would nay deserve such an honour, little brother,” Nessa replied, her words icy cold. “If I wanted your throne then I’ve had ample opportunity to claim your head before now. Do not insult me by suggestin’ I’d wait till you’re weak. That isn’t the Northern way. You’d face me at strength or you’d nay face me at all.”
She shook her head. “But I don’t want that, you daft fool. An’ if you’d seriously accuse me of such, then you’ve fallen even farther than I thought. You’ve every right to be grievin’, Keegan. Every right to be angry at those who’d seek political gain out of your loss. But drinkin’ your sorrows and your rage into impotence, all that does is encourage them. It shows them weakness. Gives them more reason to want their own hand on the throne, if yours is to falter now.”
Stepping forwards before Keegan could have a chance to respond to her with anger, she raised her own voice. “So you show them the King of the North’s answer to their politicking. You stay sober, an’ the next man that tries to foist his lass on you, you challenge him for the slight. You beat him soundly, an’ let that be a warning to the rest of ‘em. You’re nay a weakling to be played as a pawn in their games – you’re the fecking King of the North! Make ‘em bloody respect it!”
Keegan looked stunned and hurt and even more angry as the pair of them both teamed up on him. He looked between the two of them, his eyes showing the sharpness of his anger and one could tell that Nessa and Keegan were truly siblings. His fist clenched and unclenched, his arm shaking at the effort. They both could tell he was on the edge of one of those drunken brawls that the men of the north tended to get into when they had one too many drinks.
He looked like a wounded cornered animal. His jaw clenched and he shoved passed Colwyn rather harshly into the hallways of Sidhe. He stumbled slightly but seemed to be heading the wrong direction for the cellar.
He finished off the mug and stumbled over to Colwyn and shrugged. "Women.." He muttered. "Always meddlin'.." He waived off the rest of that sentence.
"You would do ya'self a favor, woman, if you learned to see wha' everyone else in this bloody realm sees." He grumbled, though his temper had lowered quite a bit. "Those who take charge of the field 'ave the power to control the pawns. Pawns 'ave little power, but can use tools. Where as no everybody can be the King or Queen or the Rook or even the knight, everyone can be a tool, if they let in even the smallest crack of their judgement." He glared at Nessa. "A servant girl. A daughter of a Lord. Even a king given false information."
The chieftain was glad of it, happy to see that it was simply Keegan's temper at work and nothing more, nodding with a sigh as the Lord of the North imparted his sideways comment. There was some truth in it - women always did seem keen to offer their insights, and more - but between his daughters and his wife, Colwyn long ago gave up trying to fight it. He knew when to pick his battles.
Now the poor man was trying to discuss politics and philosophy after working his way to the bottom of a mug for at least the third time, or so it smelled. Fhionnlaigh sighed again as he glanced between the two of them and offered a slight bow of his head. "I'm but a word away, as always." He spoke, thinking it better that he duck out now, rather than get dragged into this discourse fully, backing out once he'd finished.
“I see it well enough, little brother,” Nessa snapped back, “but I don’t see it in every shadow. To fear an agent in every serving girl? That’s nothin’ short of paranoid. There’s being watchful, an’ then there’s coming up with an excuse for throwin’ a chair at a servant that isn’t ‘I’m too drunk to show restraint’.”
"Colwyn, don' leave me alone with this wench..!" He hissed in a hoarse whisper, although it was still loud enough, Nessa probably overheard it. Keegan grabbed after the man's shoulder when her words struck him. His eyes grew wide and he turned towards Nessa, the color of his pale face turning stark red with anger at her words.
"Too drunk to show restraint?" He asked, his words coming out slow. "Ye've known me all my life, and ya know 'ow bloody often I lose my temper, an' I only do so with good reason.. And you acuse me o' bloody well losin' my temper cause I'm too drunk?!" His voice rose with every word and he was back to shouting again. "That wee lass was in 'ere goin' on about, 'Oh, me lord, doncha think Duncan's daughter is pretty? She'd make a nice wife one day!' An' 'Oh me lord, if I should be so bold, the ladies won' like a drunkard. Ya need to start settin' ya'self straight if ya are to start lookin' for a new Lady of the North soon!'" The man growled.
"If I hadn't known any better, I'd be thinkin' you were 'ere to nag me about the same damn thing, Nessa. Perhaps you are 'ere to dig at Ailise's bones too, eh?! Is that wha' it is?! Ya always wanted the throne for yer'self, but the clans no accept a woman on it. So ya wait an' bided ya time, got a 'usband that the clans respect so ya can stab me in the back as soon as I'm wounded deeply?!?" He roared. "Fess up, ya bitch! If ya want me dead, face me front on and challenge me, none of this shadowy deceit business the rest of 'em are at!" He continued, feeling for his missing sword. Luckily, he hadn't spotted Colwyn's, else he probably would have reached for it.
Colwyn had found it amusing enough that the man had grabbed at him, worthy of a roll of the eyes, but to see the fit of rage - for lack of a better term - that he soon fell into put Fhionnlaigh into a defensive posture. Immediately his hand reached for his blade's hilt, if for no other reason than to secure it, and only allowed to much of Keegan's words as he could stomach.
"Keegan!" The chieftain bellowed, a voice that had been practiced for years in his own hall but never here, one tinged with authority and lacked the caring edge that Nessa's had possessed earlier. "That's enough. She's your sister, for the Gods' sake - your blood." There were some who would turn on their own, in the south, the west and elsewhere, but Colwyn, idealistic Colwyn, put his people above that. "Speak ill once more and you'll do good to speak at all when I'm through with you."
“The man who stands before me now would nay deserve such an honour, little brother,” Nessa replied, her words icy cold. “If I wanted your throne then I’ve had ample opportunity to claim your head before now. Do not insult me by suggestin’ I’d wait till you’re weak. That isn’t the Northern way. You’d face me at strength or you’d nay face me at all.”
She shook her head. “But I don’t want that, you daft fool. An’ if you’d seriously accuse me of such, then you’ve fallen even farther than I thought. You’ve every right to be grievin’, Keegan. Every right to be angry at those who’d seek political gain out of your loss. But drinkin’ your sorrows and your rage into impotence, all that does is encourage them. It shows them weakness. Gives them more reason to want their own hand on the throne, if yours is to falter now.”
Stepping forwards before Keegan could have a chance to respond to her with anger, she raised her own voice. “So you show them the King of the North’s answer to their politicking. You stay sober, an’ the next man that tries to foist his lass on you, you challenge him for the slight. You beat him soundly, an’ let that be a warning to the rest of ‘em. You’re nay a weakling to be played as a pawn in their games – you’re the fecking King of the North! Make ‘em bloody respect it!”
Keegan looked stunned and hurt and even more angry as the pair of them both teamed up on him. He looked between the two of them, his eyes showing the sharpness of his anger and one could tell that Nessa and Keegan were truly siblings. His fist clenched and unclenched, his arm shaking at the effort. They both could tell he was on the edge of one of those drunken brawls that the men of the north tended to get into when they had one too many drinks.
He looked like a wounded cornered animal. His jaw clenched and he shoved passed Colwyn rather harshly into the hallways of Sidhe. He stumbled slightly but seemed to be heading the wrong direction for the cellar.
As Written by Script, Ottoman and Knosis
Colwyn could see the hurt in the man, but this was a sort of pain that was best dealt with head-on. Keegan had avoided the truth of the matter, his responsibilities, for far longer than propriety allowed - that the man would insinuate his family in a completely unfounded accusation only drove the point home. Were it that they came to blows over this, Colwyn wasn't above putting Keegan on the floor. There was no animosity in the matter, at least on Colwyn's part, it was simply what needed to be done, if it came to that.
The Chieftain only barely let the man past before turning to pursue, a hand catching the Lord's shoulder as he did. Were Colwyn a gambling sort, he'd bet that Keegan would take a swing, but hoped the man might have some hint of reason left to him.
"Keegan!" Nessa called after her brother, "You can't run away from this!"
If Colwyn was a betting man, he would have won the bet. It had taken all of what was left of his reasoning and will power that he had left in order to try to walk away from the situation without ending up into a brawl with the pair. He may have even realized he may have even been a bit unreasonable due to how intoxicated he was. But with Colwyn grabbing his shoulder to stop him, and his sister trying to stop him too, well...
As predicted, the man surged around with as much speed and power his anger had given him from under the intoxication and spun around to land a fist solidly in the clan chieftain's jaw.
Liquor might have dampened Keegan's sensibilities, but not his strength, the chieftain reeling from the blow, already feeling his split lip. Colwyn waited to check his teeth as he righted himself, shuffling slightly as he recoiled. Careful eyes regarded the Lord of the North for a moment or two as he spit what blood Keegan had won from his mouth, clearing it.
"If that's how you want it, boy." Keegan would find that the bear of a man dropped into a fighting stance - one that was far from professional by most means - and moved back against Keegan, slipping past his arms to send a fist into his Lord's gut.
"Oof.." The young lord wheezed as the air was knocked from him. He stumbled backwards slightly, dazed for a brief second as he realized someone actually swung back, and it only lit the fire more.
He snarled as he ran forward, lowering his shoulder slightly in order to use his body weight to smash into the elder man to try to pin him to the wall.
Colwyn had ducked back after delivering his blow, looking for the best chance to put the Lord of the North out without Keegan wearing the marks of it openly. The chieftain didn't have much time to, as the younger man opted to rush him, Fhionnlaigh barely managing to duck to the side, shoving Keegan away as he did, preferring to deflect such a blow than take it.
Keegan was drunk, but that didn't mean he was helpless, that first blow had proven that to Colwyn, and he wasn't too eager to be reminded.
Keegan stumbled harmlessly into the wall, catching his balance on the stone before turning around and glaring at his target. The alcohol may have not hendered the Northern Lord's strength or speed, but his grace and tactic were all fed through rage and sluggish thoughts. Rushing at Fhionnlaigh again, this time he aimed a swing for the older man's gut to return the favor.
Colwyn moved into the rushing lord, doing his best to avoid the blow though it still caught him - as Keegan's hit found its mark, Fhionnlaigh grimaced, steeling himself as he did his best to take the opportunity to strike. It wasn't what he had wanted but Fhionnlaigh aimed to bring his fist into Keegan's jaw, taking the chance as he saw it.
Hopefully neither of them would be missing any teeth after this.
Colwyn found his mark, leaving the young lord slightly dazed and reeling back from the fray for the moment. He spat blood to the side, and looked about ready to make another go of it.
However, before he could do so, Nessa stepped into the punch-up from the side. She closed on Keegan with a forceful ram, hooking her foot behind his legs in an attempt to floor him, using his own weight against him.
If they could get him on the ground, they could keep him there far easier - ideally before anyone's nose got broken.
Keegan had been so focused on Colwyn, that he had not expected Nessa to join up into the fight. As he had not the finesse of sobriety, he toppled soundly onto the ground, like a tree being toppled down. But not without other casualties.
As he fell, he grabbed Nessa's clothes and yanked her down with him, snarling angrily at his elder sibling.
Fhionnlaigh moved to support Nessa's bid to subdue her brother, helping to pin the man and an arm to the floor, if only to safeguard the other. The rush of the fight still swelled in his breast for a few moments as he looked to Keegan, his visage bearing an expression of frustrated determination which, to the right eye, might look like anger.
Perhaps Colwyn was angry with the man, but surely not so much as Nessa might be.
Given enough time, the elder chieftain caught his breath, and having lingered for a moment here with Keegan, glanced briefly to the Lord's sister. "My apologies. I didn't mean for this to... turn the way it did."
Nessa dropped onto Keegan and shoved his other arm to the floor, her knee digging into his side to keep him down. She nodded brusquely to Colwyn, before turning her attention on her brother. "Are you done, brother? Or will it take a few more smacks to knock some sense into you?"
Once on the floor, the young man struggled, trying to flip over and get back up and swinging. However, that was not happening, as Colwyn was on him like white on rice, pinning down one of his arms nearly immediately. Nessa wasn't too far behind, pinning the other down and her knee digging into his ribs. Still he struggled, his anger only growing for the pair of them with every pull.
Then he was calm finally, but his anger was still there. He glared up at the pair of them cold steel hues, a look that many had seen from the pair's father many times during his rule.
"Depends, sister." He answered back, his words short knives. "Are ya done bein' a pain in my arse? Or are the pair of ya gonna keep teamin' up on me everytime I try to go and dunk me 'ead in pail of snow water?" He turned his head to the side to spit out some blood that had pooled from the cut from the inside of his cheek. "Cause if that's the case, I should go ahead and warn ya that you're gonna have to get up feckin' early every day." He grumbled.
Fhionnlaigh sighed at that, the small comfort that Nessa's acceptance had given him dissolving with Keegan's lingering belligerence. The chieftain had no qualm with his lord, outside that the man was becoming a drunkard - Colwyn felt like that was obvious. But saying that at this point would likely only worsen things, and so he held his tongue, giving Nessa the chance to speak to her brother.
"Now Keegan," Nessa snorted, "I think I've made it clear over the years that I consider it somethin' of a callin' to be a pain in your arse. If anythin', I've been slackin' lately what with livin’ away from the hold.” Her expression turned more serious, then. “The clans need their Lord back. If not now, then soon. It’s only a matter of time before somethin’ comes by that demands your wits be about you. If we have to do this every day till you're back on your feet, then we bloody well will.”
"Like 'ell you are." The man snorted. "An' if you try, Nessa Rouke, you're gonna find it awefully difficult to walk 'round Sidhe without clothes." He glanced at Colwyn and winced. "I'd make the same threat to you, but I honestly don't want to tempt fate with 'aving you walk around with nothin' but what your mother gave you.."
He sighed and laid his head on the cold stone, closing his eyes. He stayed that way for a bit before finally speaking up again. "I'm sorry. To both of you." He said, although he sounded as though he were reluctant to admit it. "You're both right, an' I know it.." He glared up at Nessa. "Can I get off the feckin' floor now?"
The elder of the three nodded at his apology, moving to say something in return, though the sting in his lip gave him pause, leaving the man to wordlessly reply. He let up off of the other man though he still held him more for looks than anything now, Colwyn glancing to Nessa as he waited for her to give him leave to release Keegan properly.
"I suppose," Nessa replied with a smirk, lifting herself from Keegan's arm and standing. She offered Keegan a hand to help him to his feet. She smiled to him, though it was a subdued smile. "We don't expect you to act like nothin's happened," she said softly. "But you owe it to yourself, an' to their memory, to try and carry on. You're strong, Keegan. An' I believe in you. Remember that."
The man grunted, taking her hand and lifting himself up. "I know. And I will.." He muttered in response to the woman. He turned his attention to Colwyn looking ashamed, if not still angry. He sighed and placed his hand on Colwyn's shoulder. He probably would apologize again, but not in front of his sister. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up and find food. I'm.. I've not had anything in a while." He offered.
"And before this woman nags me anymore.." He muttered mostly to Colwyn, but he was sure Nessa could hear.
The other man understood what Keegan said, even if he didn't speak it, a spare hand coming to rest over his for but a moment before slipping away. They'd all thrown a fist in passion before, it was nothing to forgive. "I don't think it'll be quite that easy, Keegan." Colwyn managed, minding his busted lip as he mused on that note, stepping back as he allowed the royal siblings the right of way.
A momentary glance to the door, "My lord, lady, after you."
Nessa decided to let the final muttering slide, and simply nodded to Colwyn as she made for the door. She would leave the men be for the time being. She'd said all she could for now.
Colwyn could see the hurt in the man, but this was a sort of pain that was best dealt with head-on. Keegan had avoided the truth of the matter, his responsibilities, for far longer than propriety allowed - that the man would insinuate his family in a completely unfounded accusation only drove the point home. Were it that they came to blows over this, Colwyn wasn't above putting Keegan on the floor. There was no animosity in the matter, at least on Colwyn's part, it was simply what needed to be done, if it came to that.
The Chieftain only barely let the man past before turning to pursue, a hand catching the Lord's shoulder as he did. Were Colwyn a gambling sort, he'd bet that Keegan would take a swing, but hoped the man might have some hint of reason left to him.
"Keegan!" Nessa called after her brother, "You can't run away from this!"
If Colwyn was a betting man, he would have won the bet. It had taken all of what was left of his reasoning and will power that he had left in order to try to walk away from the situation without ending up into a brawl with the pair. He may have even realized he may have even been a bit unreasonable due to how intoxicated he was. But with Colwyn grabbing his shoulder to stop him, and his sister trying to stop him too, well...
As predicted, the man surged around with as much speed and power his anger had given him from under the intoxication and spun around to land a fist solidly in the clan chieftain's jaw.
Liquor might have dampened Keegan's sensibilities, but not his strength, the chieftain reeling from the blow, already feeling his split lip. Colwyn waited to check his teeth as he righted himself, shuffling slightly as he recoiled. Careful eyes regarded the Lord of the North for a moment or two as he spit what blood Keegan had won from his mouth, clearing it.
"If that's how you want it, boy." Keegan would find that the bear of a man dropped into a fighting stance - one that was far from professional by most means - and moved back against Keegan, slipping past his arms to send a fist into his Lord's gut.
"Oof.." The young lord wheezed as the air was knocked from him. He stumbled backwards slightly, dazed for a brief second as he realized someone actually swung back, and it only lit the fire more.
He snarled as he ran forward, lowering his shoulder slightly in order to use his body weight to smash into the elder man to try to pin him to the wall.
Colwyn had ducked back after delivering his blow, looking for the best chance to put the Lord of the North out without Keegan wearing the marks of it openly. The chieftain didn't have much time to, as the younger man opted to rush him, Fhionnlaigh barely managing to duck to the side, shoving Keegan away as he did, preferring to deflect such a blow than take it.
Keegan was drunk, but that didn't mean he was helpless, that first blow had proven that to Colwyn, and he wasn't too eager to be reminded.
Keegan stumbled harmlessly into the wall, catching his balance on the stone before turning around and glaring at his target. The alcohol may have not hendered the Northern Lord's strength or speed, but his grace and tactic were all fed through rage and sluggish thoughts. Rushing at Fhionnlaigh again, this time he aimed a swing for the older man's gut to return the favor.
Colwyn moved into the rushing lord, doing his best to avoid the blow though it still caught him - as Keegan's hit found its mark, Fhionnlaigh grimaced, steeling himself as he did his best to take the opportunity to strike. It wasn't what he had wanted but Fhionnlaigh aimed to bring his fist into Keegan's jaw, taking the chance as he saw it.
Hopefully neither of them would be missing any teeth after this.
Colwyn found his mark, leaving the young lord slightly dazed and reeling back from the fray for the moment. He spat blood to the side, and looked about ready to make another go of it.
However, before he could do so, Nessa stepped into the punch-up from the side. She closed on Keegan with a forceful ram, hooking her foot behind his legs in an attempt to floor him, using his own weight against him.
If they could get him on the ground, they could keep him there far easier - ideally before anyone's nose got broken.
Keegan had been so focused on Colwyn, that he had not expected Nessa to join up into the fight. As he had not the finesse of sobriety, he toppled soundly onto the ground, like a tree being toppled down. But not without other casualties.
As he fell, he grabbed Nessa's clothes and yanked her down with him, snarling angrily at his elder sibling.
Fhionnlaigh moved to support Nessa's bid to subdue her brother, helping to pin the man and an arm to the floor, if only to safeguard the other. The rush of the fight still swelled in his breast for a few moments as he looked to Keegan, his visage bearing an expression of frustrated determination which, to the right eye, might look like anger.
Perhaps Colwyn was angry with the man, but surely not so much as Nessa might be.
Given enough time, the elder chieftain caught his breath, and having lingered for a moment here with Keegan, glanced briefly to the Lord's sister. "My apologies. I didn't mean for this to... turn the way it did."
Nessa dropped onto Keegan and shoved his other arm to the floor, her knee digging into his side to keep him down. She nodded brusquely to Colwyn, before turning her attention on her brother. "Are you done, brother? Or will it take a few more smacks to knock some sense into you?"
Once on the floor, the young man struggled, trying to flip over and get back up and swinging. However, that was not happening, as Colwyn was on him like white on rice, pinning down one of his arms nearly immediately. Nessa wasn't too far behind, pinning the other down and her knee digging into his ribs. Still he struggled, his anger only growing for the pair of them with every pull.
Then he was calm finally, but his anger was still there. He glared up at the pair of them cold steel hues, a look that many had seen from the pair's father many times during his rule.
"Depends, sister." He answered back, his words short knives. "Are ya done bein' a pain in my arse? Or are the pair of ya gonna keep teamin' up on me everytime I try to go and dunk me 'ead in pail of snow water?" He turned his head to the side to spit out some blood that had pooled from the cut from the inside of his cheek. "Cause if that's the case, I should go ahead and warn ya that you're gonna have to get up feckin' early every day." He grumbled.
Fhionnlaigh sighed at that, the small comfort that Nessa's acceptance had given him dissolving with Keegan's lingering belligerence. The chieftain had no qualm with his lord, outside that the man was becoming a drunkard - Colwyn felt like that was obvious. But saying that at this point would likely only worsen things, and so he held his tongue, giving Nessa the chance to speak to her brother.
"Now Keegan," Nessa snorted, "I think I've made it clear over the years that I consider it somethin' of a callin' to be a pain in your arse. If anythin', I've been slackin' lately what with livin’ away from the hold.” Her expression turned more serious, then. “The clans need their Lord back. If not now, then soon. It’s only a matter of time before somethin’ comes by that demands your wits be about you. If we have to do this every day till you're back on your feet, then we bloody well will.”
"Like 'ell you are." The man snorted. "An' if you try, Nessa Rouke, you're gonna find it awefully difficult to walk 'round Sidhe without clothes." He glanced at Colwyn and winced. "I'd make the same threat to you, but I honestly don't want to tempt fate with 'aving you walk around with nothin' but what your mother gave you.."
He sighed and laid his head on the cold stone, closing his eyes. He stayed that way for a bit before finally speaking up again. "I'm sorry. To both of you." He said, although he sounded as though he were reluctant to admit it. "You're both right, an' I know it.." He glared up at Nessa. "Can I get off the feckin' floor now?"
The elder of the three nodded at his apology, moving to say something in return, though the sting in his lip gave him pause, leaving the man to wordlessly reply. He let up off of the other man though he still held him more for looks than anything now, Colwyn glancing to Nessa as he waited for her to give him leave to release Keegan properly.
"I suppose," Nessa replied with a smirk, lifting herself from Keegan's arm and standing. She offered Keegan a hand to help him to his feet. She smiled to him, though it was a subdued smile. "We don't expect you to act like nothin's happened," she said softly. "But you owe it to yourself, an' to their memory, to try and carry on. You're strong, Keegan. An' I believe in you. Remember that."
The man grunted, taking her hand and lifting himself up. "I know. And I will.." He muttered in response to the woman. He turned his attention to Colwyn looking ashamed, if not still angry. He sighed and placed his hand on Colwyn's shoulder. He probably would apologize again, but not in front of his sister. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up and find food. I'm.. I've not had anything in a while." He offered.
"And before this woman nags me anymore.." He muttered mostly to Colwyn, but he was sure Nessa could hear.
The other man understood what Keegan said, even if he didn't speak it, a spare hand coming to rest over his for but a moment before slipping away. They'd all thrown a fist in passion before, it was nothing to forgive. "I don't think it'll be quite that easy, Keegan." Colwyn managed, minding his busted lip as he mused on that note, stepping back as he allowed the royal siblings the right of way.
A momentary glance to the door, "My lord, lady, after you."
Nessa decided to let the final muttering slide, and simply nodded to Colwyn as she made for the door. She would leave the men be for the time being. She'd said all she could for now.
The snow fell softly upon the kingdom of Sidhe. Low, dark grey clouds hung close to the ground, one almost wondered if they could reach up and touch them. The bells solemnly tolled throughout the kingdom, echoing through the silent halls as if echoing the laments of all the hearts within the kingdom. The Lord of the North finally stepped out of his castle for the first time since his wife's passing, his eyes rimmed red with tears that refused to fall. Not this day. Not any day after this. Dressed in his finest furs and leathers of black and dark grey, he looked to the sky and gave it a solemn smile. Ailise loved days like today, where the world was quiet and time seemed to just freeze around them. He could see her, standing at the gate, gazing off into the distance her raven hair braided loosely and her playful smile upon her thin lips. His chest tightened as the vision of the woman faded from his sight and he was left alone once again. He closed his eyes as he heard the shuffling of feet and hooves, and the creak of the wooden wagon wheels that carried his lady's boat within it. Inside, he knew she lay there as peaceful as if she were merely sleeping, holding their child in her tender clutches.
He walked over to the wooden craft and let his hand brush over the carved decorations. The Master Carpenter had done a very fine job in such short notice. The man himself walked over to his Lord, bowing low and expressing his condolences. Keegan placed a gloved hand on the elder man's shoulder, his blue eyes sincere as he spoke. "You have outdone yourself, Master Carpenter.." Keegan said, his gruff voice harsh against the silence. "My wife and my son will be carried to the afterlife on the finest craft Bliania has ever seen. I'm sure they will make it safely, thanks to your care to detail." The old man placed his hand on his lord's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. "Aye.. I know it will.." The old man said quietly. "But ye should know, I prayed that I ne'er 'ad to be the one to 'ave to build it for Lady Ailise or any of your family, m'lord." Keegan returned the hug in earnest to his old friend and nodded as he let him go. The old man patted him quietly on the shoulder before walking off. A young stable lad brought out Keegan's ebony warhorse, saddled with decoration that fit the occasion. Tied to the saddle was a finely crafted bow and a quiver of arrows who's tips were wrapped with oil soaked rags. He took the reins from the young lad and nodded his thanks, mounting the horse on his own. The horse danced with antsy energy for a moment as the North Lord settled into his saddle. Several of his closest men and women were riding up beside him, including Ailise's father and brother, his sisters and Colwyn. The man took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, mist curling away from the cold. It was time.
He urged his horse forward slowly, keeping his chin high and eyes forward as he lead the procession. As soon as he started the line, the rest fell in behind, three to four abreast. Those not on horses followed on foot, the wagon inbetween them. The slow march took them through the streets of his kingdom, where men, women and children alike joined into the procession with their finest clothes and solemn faces. The bells continued to ring throughout the city as if to keep time with the steps of the horses and the turning of the wagon wheels, seeming as though that were the only thing driving them forward to ensure the final farewell to their kingdom's well loved lady was seen to.
The march took an hour as it proceeded through the streets of Sidhe, to the outer walls, to the trails that led deep within the mountain's heart. Torches were handed out as soon as they were inside the cavernous insides and the sky's light was no longer sufficient enough to guide their way. The row of flickering lights on the trail down inside the mountain were like the bright spirits moving along a darkened sky of a new moon. It was warmer there than it was outside, almost uncomfortably so compared to how it was outside all the time. And because of the warm, there was an eternal lake that extended to the unknown. It was the belief of those in Bliania that this was one of the lakes that connected the mortal realm to the spirit realm where the souls of the departed would go to meet for the final feast.
Keegan stopped his horse at the edge of this lake, looking up toward the darkness around the walls of the cave. Thousands of people had come to pay their respects to their late Lady. Two men lit the torches that lined the old dock. The same stable boy came to take the reins from the Lord as he dismounted from the warhorse and held it steady. A few others dismounted as well and followed their lord to the wagon. A frame had been built in order to help carry the boat the remaining few feet of the journey and Keegan took the front as he and several other men lifted the frame onto their shoulders and carried their duty down the docks. The dock itself ramped into the warm waters, and Keegan and the other man who had taken the other side stepped down into the water slowly, feeling their way through the darkness until they were on the lake's floor. Keegan was handed a torch again once the frame had been pulled from under the boat and it floated on its own, and he alone pushed the boat along, his eyes dead ahead. He couldn't look down. Not yet. He had to make sure he could let go and he knew that if he looked at her now, at that moment, he wouldn't be able to do so.
The Northern Lord pushed it silently, wading through the waters of the black lake until the warm waters were near to his hips. He ached in more ways than he had ever ached in his life, and would rather face all the beatings he had ever encountered than to face what he had to do then. He finally lowered his gaze to the reason his heart was breaking in front of his entire kingdom.
Even in death, she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Her raven hair laid loose about her shoulders, in one of her favorite dresses she loved to wear on days where there was less things to mourn for. Her pale face was peaceful, and her lips nearly seemed as though they were smiling. Her hands were folded together, but in the crook of her arm laid nestled the child they were to have together, and never would be. He reached down and caressed her cheek, and smiled ruefully. "Ya were suppose to take me with you where ever you went.." He whispered, his vision swimming as he fought back the tears. "I will always love you, my sweet Ailise.." He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering there as he wished to whatever god there was that she would just wake up as she use to do when he kissed her like this. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her form, ripping his very soul from the grasp of the lake with a mournful moan, placing the torch he held in the holder at the tip of the boat and shoved the boat on a straight path into the endless darkness.
He stood there watching as she drifted away from him for the final time, feeling as though his chest were to burst at any moment.
He took a deep breath recited a passage that normally was sung upon releasing the dead onward.
"The journey was long and your soul is weary.
You sleep upon these waves that carry,
Far from the lands you once called home,
Where you will wake and find you are not alone.
My love, don't grieve for the ones you left behind.
Rejoice with the company of those who walked in kind.
We all will await the final journey's end.
So Farewell for now and until we meet again."
He slowly tore his gaze off the boat, wading back towards shore slowly. Ailise's father handed him the bow that had been tied to his horse's saddle and one of the arrows as soon as he made it back to the dock. Several of the people who had rode with him also carried bows now, arrows slack and waiting for Keegan. The man took the bow and arrow and turned towards the shrinking star on the lake. He lit the end of the arrow and notched it, drawing back the string to its fullest draw and took aim. As he released the arrow, he felt as though he had let go of his soul. The flaming arrow soared above the black lake and found its mark. After a moment, his arrow was joined in by half a dozen or so others. The flames danced in the distance as his Lady, his heart and soul, finally departed from the world of men.
"Goodbye, Ailise.." He whispered, his voice cracking.
He walked over to the wooden craft and let his hand brush over the carved decorations. The Master Carpenter had done a very fine job in such short notice. The man himself walked over to his Lord, bowing low and expressing his condolences. Keegan placed a gloved hand on the elder man's shoulder, his blue eyes sincere as he spoke. "You have outdone yourself, Master Carpenter.." Keegan said, his gruff voice harsh against the silence. "My wife and my son will be carried to the afterlife on the finest craft Bliania has ever seen. I'm sure they will make it safely, thanks to your care to detail." The old man placed his hand on his lord's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. "Aye.. I know it will.." The old man said quietly. "But ye should know, I prayed that I ne'er 'ad to be the one to 'ave to build it for Lady Ailise or any of your family, m'lord." Keegan returned the hug in earnest to his old friend and nodded as he let him go. The old man patted him quietly on the shoulder before walking off. A young stable lad brought out Keegan's ebony warhorse, saddled with decoration that fit the occasion. Tied to the saddle was a finely crafted bow and a quiver of arrows who's tips were wrapped with oil soaked rags. He took the reins from the young lad and nodded his thanks, mounting the horse on his own. The horse danced with antsy energy for a moment as the North Lord settled into his saddle. Several of his closest men and women were riding up beside him, including Ailise's father and brother, his sisters and Colwyn. The man took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, mist curling away from the cold. It was time.
He urged his horse forward slowly, keeping his chin high and eyes forward as he lead the procession. As soon as he started the line, the rest fell in behind, three to four abreast. Those not on horses followed on foot, the wagon inbetween them. The slow march took them through the streets of his kingdom, where men, women and children alike joined into the procession with their finest clothes and solemn faces. The bells continued to ring throughout the city as if to keep time with the steps of the horses and the turning of the wagon wheels, seeming as though that were the only thing driving them forward to ensure the final farewell to their kingdom's well loved lady was seen to.
The march took an hour as it proceeded through the streets of Sidhe, to the outer walls, to the trails that led deep within the mountain's heart. Torches were handed out as soon as they were inside the cavernous insides and the sky's light was no longer sufficient enough to guide their way. The row of flickering lights on the trail down inside the mountain were like the bright spirits moving along a darkened sky of a new moon. It was warmer there than it was outside, almost uncomfortably so compared to how it was outside all the time. And because of the warm, there was an eternal lake that extended to the unknown. It was the belief of those in Bliania that this was one of the lakes that connected the mortal realm to the spirit realm where the souls of the departed would go to meet for the final feast.
Keegan stopped his horse at the edge of this lake, looking up toward the darkness around the walls of the cave. Thousands of people had come to pay their respects to their late Lady. Two men lit the torches that lined the old dock. The same stable boy came to take the reins from the Lord as he dismounted from the warhorse and held it steady. A few others dismounted as well and followed their lord to the wagon. A frame had been built in order to help carry the boat the remaining few feet of the journey and Keegan took the front as he and several other men lifted the frame onto their shoulders and carried their duty down the docks. The dock itself ramped into the warm waters, and Keegan and the other man who had taken the other side stepped down into the water slowly, feeling their way through the darkness until they were on the lake's floor. Keegan was handed a torch again once the frame had been pulled from under the boat and it floated on its own, and he alone pushed the boat along, his eyes dead ahead. He couldn't look down. Not yet. He had to make sure he could let go and he knew that if he looked at her now, at that moment, he wouldn't be able to do so.
The Northern Lord pushed it silently, wading through the waters of the black lake until the warm waters were near to his hips. He ached in more ways than he had ever ached in his life, and would rather face all the beatings he had ever encountered than to face what he had to do then. He finally lowered his gaze to the reason his heart was breaking in front of his entire kingdom.
Even in death, she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Her raven hair laid loose about her shoulders, in one of her favorite dresses she loved to wear on days where there was less things to mourn for. Her pale face was peaceful, and her lips nearly seemed as though they were smiling. Her hands were folded together, but in the crook of her arm laid nestled the child they were to have together, and never would be. He reached down and caressed her cheek, and smiled ruefully. "Ya were suppose to take me with you where ever you went.." He whispered, his vision swimming as he fought back the tears. "I will always love you, my sweet Ailise.." He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering there as he wished to whatever god there was that she would just wake up as she use to do when he kissed her like this. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her form, ripping his very soul from the grasp of the lake with a mournful moan, placing the torch he held in the holder at the tip of the boat and shoved the boat on a straight path into the endless darkness.
He stood there watching as she drifted away from him for the final time, feeling as though his chest were to burst at any moment.
He took a deep breath recited a passage that normally was sung upon releasing the dead onward.
"The journey was long and your soul is weary.
You sleep upon these waves that carry,
Far from the lands you once called home,
Where you will wake and find you are not alone.
My love, don't grieve for the ones you left behind.
Rejoice with the company of those who walked in kind.
We all will await the final journey's end.
So Farewell for now and until we meet again."
He slowly tore his gaze off the boat, wading back towards shore slowly. Ailise's father handed him the bow that had been tied to his horse's saddle and one of the arrows as soon as he made it back to the dock. Several of the people who had rode with him also carried bows now, arrows slack and waiting for Keegan. The man took the bow and arrow and turned towards the shrinking star on the lake. He lit the end of the arrow and notched it, drawing back the string to its fullest draw and took aim. As he released the arrow, he felt as though he had let go of his soul. The flaming arrow soared above the black lake and found its mark. After a moment, his arrow was joined in by half a dozen or so others. The flames danced in the distance as his Lady, his heart and soul, finally departed from the world of men.
"Goodbye, Ailise.." He whispered, his voice cracking.
As written by Glmster
Not only did folk from Sidhe itself arrive to mourn their late queen and the royal child, but those from hundreds -or even thousands in some cases- of miles away. And even then, Bliania's humans were not the only ones weeping for this loss, even the wild animals ceased their daily activities for this moment of grieving. Most notably of which, birds gathered in the thousands to attend the service, completely silent in the trees save for the occasional anguished call.
A few hundred feet away from the center of the service, isolated from the others but not out of sight, stood a woman cloaked in great swathes of ebon feather. She held back tears and refrained from speaking, simply watching the ship burn in the traditional Blianian funeral.
When the wooden boat was finally capsized and charred, and hidden from view below the surface, she hung her head in mourning, as did every bird -regardless of size or breed- that attended.
Not only did folk from Sidhe itself arrive to mourn their late queen and the royal child, but those from hundreds -or even thousands in some cases- of miles away. And even then, Bliania's humans were not the only ones weeping for this loss, even the wild animals ceased their daily activities for this moment of grieving. Most notably of which, birds gathered in the thousands to attend the service, completely silent in the trees save for the occasional anguished call.
A few hundred feet away from the center of the service, isolated from the others but not out of sight, stood a woman cloaked in great swathes of ebon feather. She held back tears and refrained from speaking, simply watching the ship burn in the traditional Blianian funeral.
When the wooden boat was finally capsized and charred, and hidden from view below the surface, she hung her head in mourning, as did every bird -regardless of size or breed- that attended.
WiZ
Active Member
"Shame, isn't it?" said a tall man, wearing an emerald green cloak and archers hat, appearing without warning on the left side of the cloaked woman.
The mans name was Ar, Ar Zul, The Marksman of Sidhe. Though he was usually out of town adventuring or as intoxicated as could be, Ar Zul came to the royal funeral as fast as he could, seeing as this was a special occasion. On his right stood a magnificent Wulgar, with flowing white fur and sharp fangs protruding from it's muscular jaws. The noble steed was none other than Alina.
"Life is so fragile, yet so beautiful at the same time. It can end in a instant, yet we believe it to last forever." He said, taking his hat off to show respect for the late queen and prince.
"And just as gloriously as they lived, they passed. Shame."
The mans name was Ar, Ar Zul, The Marksman of Sidhe. Though he was usually out of town adventuring or as intoxicated as could be, Ar Zul came to the royal funeral as fast as he could, seeing as this was a special occasion. On his right stood a magnificent Wulgar, with flowing white fur and sharp fangs protruding from it's muscular jaws. The noble steed was none other than Alina.
"Life is so fragile, yet so beautiful at the same time. It can end in a instant, yet we believe it to last forever." He said, taking his hat off to show respect for the late queen and prince.
"And just as gloriously as they lived, they passed. Shame."
glmstr
Magus
As Eden debated leaving the funeral, her decision was interrupted by a stranger approaching. A well-kept wulgar accompanied him, and the mystic offered a brief nod to the beast. While she noticed his presence long before he was at her side, she did not bother reacting until he actually engaged in conversation.
His comment about the fragility of life almost invited a chuckle from her. Almost.
"Only the foolish sparrow lambasts the strength of the tree in which its own nest is built."
His comment about the fragility of life almost invited a chuckle from her. Almost.
"Only the foolish sparrow lambasts the strength of the tree in which its own nest is built."
WiZ
Active Member
Ar Zul, putting his hat back on, squinted at the lady in front of him, as if gazing into her soul through her eyes.
"Amazing." he said, slowly making his way behind the cloaked woman, "How can someone who seems so beautiful and elegant on the outside, be so harsh and cynical on the inside?"
Ar Zul put his hand on the woman's shoulders, gently plucking a singular black feather from her ebony cloak.
"Amazing." he said, slowly making his way behind the cloaked woman, "How can someone who seems so beautiful and elegant on the outside, be so harsh and cynical on the inside?"
Ar Zul put his hand on the woman's shoulders, gently plucking a singular black feather from her ebony cloak.
glmstr
Magus
Ar Zul would see nothing of the sort. Instead, a void filled by impossible and ever-changing patterns, swirling in enticing ballets, yet threatening to consume one whole, as if the lantern stalk for a deep-sea predator, the flame for unwary moths to be drawn towards. Behind her eyes laid entire galaxies of unknown stars, nebulae never before seen by man or beast. As he saw a glimpse, the visions disappeared without a trace, and several hundred birds had not only turned from their mourning to stare at him and his pet, but some of the larger eagles and falcons also began to shift in their branches restlessly.
"A man approaches me with false authority, expects me to bend the knee to petty compliments, then lays a hand on me and defiles my clothing?" Eden's hand slowly drifted to a collection of small pouches at her hip, her pale fingers wrapping around a small vial, and opening it. The vial emitted fumes not noticeable by a human nose, but that of a Wulgar. Pheremones seeking help, of a female in distress. Before long, the beast would be driven into a frenzy to defend the source of the scent if it remained nearby.
"I will only tell you once: unhand me, and leave this place."
"A man approaches me with false authority, expects me to bend the knee to petty compliments, then lays a hand on me and defiles my clothing?" Eden's hand slowly drifted to a collection of small pouches at her hip, her pale fingers wrapping around a small vial, and opening it. The vial emitted fumes not noticeable by a human nose, but that of a Wulgar. Pheremones seeking help, of a female in distress. Before long, the beast would be driven into a frenzy to defend the source of the scent if it remained nearby.
"I will only tell you once: unhand me, and leave this place."