(2023-08-11) It Was A Difficult Day

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Author:	Athena
Summary:	Avrenne checks in with Cressidha after the invasion of Undercity to secure more information for Siamus, and works to further the other agendas of the WEB and Zath. Discussion of recent plots and on going side-plots. 3200-ish words.
Rating:	T for Teen

Several days after the decision made by the king of Stormwind to actively invade Undercity to root out those responsible for the devastation of the Battle of Angrathar the Wrathgate, which led to an attack against the Horde there to deal with the Forsaken civil war, an action halted by the mage Jaina Proudmoore, the Duchess of Lordaeron Avrenne Esprit Fallon sent a calling card ahead to the Aspenwood Townhouse, requesting an audience not with Clara Aspenwood, but her daughter, Cressidha Aspenwood.

Avrenne arrives five minutes before the time she declared for her visit, which is so customary for her that it is to be expected. Her hair has been set in a tight chignon, pinned back from her face, which has had some cosmetics skillfully applied, just enough to darken her lashes and emphasize her eyes, and lend a touch of color to her lips. Her dress is a bold purple, expertly tailored into flowing pleats around her arms, two panels draping down behind her shoulders in the suggestion of a cape. The bodice is richly decorated with unusual embroidery, the neckline squared off. There's a belt at her waist, a small gold and stormsilver case with a triangle of blue-green sea glass on one side, and an astrolabe on the other, attached to the belt by a short gold chain. She wears her customary small gold earrings, and on her left hand is her wedding ring of gold and stormsilver with sapphires.

Her expression is composed as though for a picture, serious and unsmiling, as she uses the knocker to announce her arrival.

As always, Avrenne is greeted by the family butler, Mr. Rhinehart, and escorted into the sitting room. There is already a tea tray on the coffee table, and seated on the sofa is Cressidha Aspenwood.

Cressidha's face is grim. She is dressed in a peach-colored summer dress with gauzy short sleeves and a long skirt, and she looks up at Avrenne with a polite nod.

Rhinehart, unobtrusive as always, slips away, shutting the door behind him.

Avrenne’s eyes flick around the room, noting the details, before she sets her eyes on Cressidha. "Lady Cressidha, thank you for receiving me," Avrenne says cordially, if a little on the cooler side, striding forward with a hand outstretched for a simple clasp of it rather than a true handshake.

"Of course." Cressidha clasps Avrenne's hand in hers for a moment. "I hope you will forgive me if I am poor company today."

Avrenne raises both brows because she cannot raise one, as she lets go of Cressidha and takes a seat with practiced elegance, arranging her dress to fall in correct folds. "I never hold any company to their best in the summer as a rule," she says diplomatically. "These days, with such additional tensions in the air, I expect no one is at their finest."

"Would you prefer hot tea, iced tea, water, something else…?" Cressidha asks politely.

"Hot tea is fine, thank you," Avrenne replies, flicking her eyes to the tea on the table, and back to Cressidha. "I find the familiarity of it comforting in all weather."

Cressidha nods. She pours Avrenne a cup of tea and conjures herself a bottle of water. "Have you been well?"

"Yes, thank you." Avrenne accepts her cup, adding nothing to it, and takes a sip. "Siamus is home for the moment. He came back for personal reasons, and now with the situation as it is, he remains for the business of the House of Nobles."

Cressidha nods. "I will likely be in Stormwind much of this week, and return Saturday or Sunday, myself."

"Mm." Avrenne takes another small sip of her tea. "I expect you must find yourself in a unique situation to advise your mother on what occurred recently. That is, I have been given to understand that you were one of those who was actually there when King Varian led the Alliance forces into Lordaeron?"

"My brother Colson and I both were, yes," Cressidha says. "I came quite close to death in the attempt, when I was chewed and swallowed by a plague worm taller than this building. It was a difficult day." That seems to be her entry into the Understatement of the Year Contest, but she has some challenging competition this year.

Again Avrenne's brows jolt upwards, and there's a faint shifting of her posture, a brief movement of her hand off her teacup as though she would reach for Cressidha. "Goodness." There's something cold and hard in those dark eyes for a beat before Avrenne blinks it carefully away. "The Forsaken are quite formidable in that way, it would seem. That sounds very trying on the nerves. Has it left any lingering effects?"

"I believe that physically, I am fully healed. My dress, however, did not quite survive the day." Dress? Not mage robe? How odd.

"Your dress? You were not in your shadoweave robe?" Avrenne asks, a level of surprise showing through the cool tone of her voice.

"I was not," Cressidha says mildly. "Eight of us, from Cobalt Company, were sent to speak with King Varian as a diplomatic envoy from Queen Alexstrasza the Life-Binder. We were to return to him the shield of Highlord Fordragon, Light rest his soul. King Varian saw eight elite members of a famous mercenary company and decided, while we were there, to put us to work." From her tone, it does not sound like the king asked if they wanted to help or not.

Avrenne takes a slow sip of her tea, her expression almost neutral enough to be mistaken for a relative. "The unfortunate dual edged sword of a reputation for competence, to be assumed always on duty, but such also is the privilege of His Majesty." She takes another sip of her tea. "I expect I might know a little better than most how truly terrifying it must have been for you. I, too, was in nothing but a dress meant for a royal event — a parade meant to welcome home the crown prince — when I had to flee for my life when the City fell to the Forsaken. Well, not the Forsaken, that is, they were the Scourge then, but it was not an experience I would care to repeat to need to cast to survive while in finery, not proper armor."

Cressidha nods, expressionless. "I have heard tales. It must have been very difficult." Her voice sounds sympathetic, but her face is blank. "King Varian chose first to send us as Lady Jaina Proudmoore's bodyguards on a diplomatic mission to speak with Warchief Thrall. There had been civil war in the Undercity, and the Banshee Queen had barely escaped with her unlife. The Horde was in the middle of preparations to go directly to the Undercity, eliminate the two primary traitors in the affair at Wrathgate, and presumably get the city back under their control in force. Warchief Thrall was very clear that he did not wish for conflict with the Alliance, but would not hesitate to act in self-defense." Cressidha inhales through her nose and exhales through her mouth. "We communicated this to King Varian, and somehow - by hearing only what he wished to hear, perhaps - he thought that this was a situation to be taken advantage of."

Avrenne sips quietly at her tea while she listens. She's a quiet, attentive audience, rather than a reactive one. There are no gasps of shock, or deep frowns of outrage. "The Horde had already been preparing their forces," she repeats. "But, it would seem, based on the report of military engagement, that His Majesty had already prepared our own forces. Perhaps he anticipated that we had the advantage of being more fully prepared, while assuming the Horde was not yet ready to make their strike. Such fine distinctions of preparation can be the difference between a successful campaign and a loss. Not dissimilar, perhaps in large scale, of the difference that one can feel being fully prepared in an enchanted robe against an opponent wearing finery. Still," Avrenne allows, as she reaches for the tea pot to refill her teacup. "One should never assume even a mage in finery is not a dangerous opponent to engage without consideration for the consequences." It's diplomatically put, not entirely an agreement or a disagreement. It's unclear from her tone if she is on either side of the argument, in a neutral manner.

"I was there to see the forces he had sent there ahead of time," Cressidha says, her hands folded in her lap. "I do not believe we could have retaken the city successfully with the numbers we had, much less held it."

"I expect you would know better than I," Avrenne says, sitting back with her tea, her posture straight. "You must have been relieved then, when the campaign was called off." It's not quite a question, but there is a slight lilt to it, as though to leave it open that maybe Cressidha would care to clarify her feelings on the matter?

Cressidha looks down. "Very much so," she says, and she sounds a little ashamed. "I do not think we would have been victorious, had we stayed."

"Goodness. How unfortunate to witness such, particularly after so recently seeing the devastation of the Wrathgate." Avrenne's voice isn't exactly warm, but there might be some comfort in its familiar calm poise, no accusation in it. "Was there a retreat called for in time, in your opinion? I heard only that our forces were recalled, portaled out of the City." She is, of course, assuming that there was a retreat called for at all.

"I personally believe it ought to have been called sooner, after we killed Putress. But… it was a difficult fight, for me." Cressidha shakes her head. "We were down in the tunnels. I was constantly scraping the last of my mana, there were alchemical contaminants everywhere, I was unable to find a safe place to stand during the fight… It was simply blizzards in between getting flung into walls left and right, struggling for the clarity required to damage only my enemies."

Avrenne makes a sympathetic sound. "Military engagements are always far more chaotic than civilians expect," she says, as if she is not a civilian herself. But, perhaps given her connection to the army, she may have a better idea of it than many. "Soldiers always speak of how fraught it truly becomes, the breakdown of communication, the difficulty in directing weaponry and magic to the correct target in the heat of the clash of forces." She sips her tea. "It was not after the defeat of Putress that the retreat was called, then? Was the…" She makes a vague circle in the air. "Plague worm the final straw?"

"Would you believe no, that was even earlier?" Cressidha waves a hand. "In truth, I am uncertain if a retreat was ever called at all. The king ordered us to attack the Warchief. I do not believe it was going well, when Lady Jaina pulled us out of there, but I am uncertain - I think I may have lost consciousness, towards the end."

Without looking up, Cressidha reaches for her water and takes a sip.

"I do hope that you were seen to properly afterwards," Avrenne says, and despite the composure of it, there's an inherent motherly sort of scold in it, not directed at Cressidha, clearly, but at the potential others who might have neglected a mage in need. "I realize you have now made a full physical recovery, but all too often if one is not bleeding profusely, one is assumed fine." She pauses, and her tone gentles. "Though, you did say your brother was there. He is a paladin now, isn't he?" He has been for 9 years, but #okAvrenne. "He would have ensured you were well, I am certain of it."

Cressidha smiles faintly at the mention of her twin. "He is, yes, and he did. I am simply…" She waves a hand vaguely. "Recovering." Emotionally, most likely.

"Of course. These things do take time to process," Avrenne says, and though her tone is cool, and her manner poised, it isn't cold. "You were trained primarily as a longer ranged battlemage, if I recall correctly?"

"I have yet to hear you recall anything incorrectly," Cressidha says, and it has the tone of a compliment. "Yes. Although I have been working as a mercenary with Cobalt Company these past two and a half years, and I've been in my share of close-quarters fights by now. I was simply very unfortunate in this one in particular."

"Oh, I do not doubt your field experience has broadened your abilities significantly in practice." Avrenne regards Cressidha with a steady gaze. "And even soldiers trained in such with a decade of experience under their uniform belt speak of how dangerous close quarter fights are, and how swiftly a battle can turn on the slightest of unpredictable elements. But I expect it is even more difficult when, in such cases of chaos and need to react without thinking, one falls back on one's training to do so, and that training was not intended to be in the middle of a melee." Avrenne takes another sip before she lowers her tea to near her lap. "I do believe I recall that your instructor was a Ms. Granville? She was not of the Kirin Tor was she?" She softens the phrases as questions, but there's a surety in her that suggests it's habit, rather than actual uncertainty.

"Indeed, she is not. I believe that she is still teaching independent students." Cressidha sips her water.

"Oh? Are you still in contact with her at all?"

Cressidha shakes her head. "Not currently, although I am certain I could reach out." There's an inquisitive eyebrow-raise.

"If you would be willing to do so, that would be very much appreciated," Avrenne says. "Have you spoken to Captain Tyrrell at any length of his coalition of warlocks, the Warlock Ethics Bureau?"

Cressidha shakes her head. "I have heard the name and the purpose of the organization by now, but it is not something we have discussed, no."

Avrenne settles a little more in the chair, her back straight. "The intent is to prevent what has been happening with all too many warlocks, that is, isolation and paranoia, following practices that lead to unfortunate events that we have seen recently." There is, briefly, something hard and cold in those dark eyes, before it's blinked away as she shifts her head slightly. "One of those elements is that beyond instruction of the fel and best use practices, is to ensure that the practitioners are not isolated with the fel, but exposed regularly to other schools of thought of the cosmic forces, to hold them better in balance. Particularly as it is in opposition of it, of Order, he has been looking for arcane instructors who would be willing to work with warlocks regularly.

"I have recommended, naturally, Lady Ekorenine Spellbond, with her expertise and her willingness. However," Avrenne allows, "She is of the Kirin Tor. While she is an exemplary member, in all regards, there is the inevitable…" She moves her hand vaguely in a circle in the air. "Methods of their instruction. And there will always be some warlocks who have experienced a level of…conflict with the Kirin Tor, either as a warlock or even if they were once a mage. I have been hoping to help the WEB locate a skilled instructor who is not affiliated with the organization, to help offer another perspective on the matter."

Cressidha nods. "I could ask her, certainly. This would be a paid position, I take it? Who would I direct her to speak with, Captain Tyrrell?"

"Yes. He will want to meet with her to determine if she will be a good fit, and, naturally, if the WEB is a good fit for her as well. It is not a full time position, or something that would require her daily, I expect. Occasional lectures, or one-on-one tutoring, pending what is necessary. Captain Tyrrell will have such details."

Cressidha nods. "I do not think she would be opposed. I am uncertain what her schedule is like, these days, but I believe she remains in Stormwind. I shall pass on word of the opportunity."

"I would very much appreciate it. She has an excellent reference already for a student," Avrenne says with a small smile, finishing off her second cup of tea, and setting it down. "Captain Tyrrell is here in Stormwind as well. He will be readily available until the 14th, and after that, a little more intermittently with his work with the 7th Legion. The 6th EU is on…dwell time, while they work to recruit and train new soldiers."

Cressidha nods. "I heard as much from Bertrand. I believe a few of the Expeditionary Units, although I cannot recall which numbers, were sent back early."

"The 6th, 8th, and 10th," Avrenne says immediately, adding belatedly, "If I recall correctly." She folds her hands in her lap. "Although, speaking of Lord Bertrand and Captain Tyrrell, I was wondering if you might be willing to give some thought on something? In the wake of the tragedy of Wrathgate, we have all been reminded how fragile things can be, and how much it can mean to someone on the front lines to know that they are thought of, remembered, and connected to the world. Captain Tyrrell has had a most difficult time with the loss of most of his unit, and a reminder of friends can be most comforting.

"As you likely know, Priscilla does portraits, small ones, for portability. I have been hoping to make some small gifts of such to Captain Tyrrell, and I understand that you and Captain Tyrrell are friends. While you do have some time, if you would be perhaps willing to consider standing for a portrait together with your brother? Well, it need not be with him in one place. Priscilla could likely paint Bertrand with her eyes closed, if you would stand with, oh, something or someone in proxy and she could add him in."

Cressidha looks genuinely surprised. "That's a very sweet thought, Avrenne. What a lovely gift. I would be happy to, of course."

"Lovely," Avrenne says, as she shifts her dress decisively, rising to a stand. She reaches out her hand once again in that same offer for a clasp. "Whenever you have a moment, simply work out the time with Priscilla. In the meantime, I do hope the rest of your recovery continues to go well. If you find yourself wishing for a change of pace, or some time by the coast, please do not hesitate to call on me at the Fallon House. The water is lovely this time of year, refreshing and soothing at once." There is a moment of warmth in her voice, something softer in her eyes.

Cressidha clasps Avrenne's hand and smiles faintly. "That does sound delightful. I may have some time next week, perhaps, barring further catastrophe."

"Well, we shall simply have to ask the next catastrophe to wait a few weeks, perhaps as long as a month," Avrenne remarks in a dry voice. "After all, it is Siamus' birthday next week. It would be nice to get him at least a week or two of no catastrophe as a present. Men can be so difficult to shop for."

Cressidha laughs, standing up to see Avrenne out.