(2023-08-20) During Such Times As These

Details

Author:	Athena
Summary:	The times they are less than normal, as they say, and that includes for the lives of esteemed members of the House of Nobles, where Devon Tennerow has had to contend with the recent political upheavals as well as several personal ones. In making her political rounds, the Lady Fallon comes to find that there may be some particular concerns that she might be able to do something about…and while she's already there, well. Might as well further some other agendas. Efficiency. 4k-ish words.
Rating:	T for Teen

On an absolutely sweltering summer day in Stormwind, Duchess Avrenne Esprit Fallon calls on House Tennerow. Her calling card was sent the day before, plenty of time to respond to it as needed, and she arrives five minutes before the time she stated she would be there, at an ideal time for an afternoon tea. Her dress is still long sleeved, and high collared, but the concession to the heat is the fabric, layers of soft chiffon and voile, that together form a richer bold summer sky blue color that flows around her.

Her hair is back in a chignon, a silver and opal decorative comb in it. She wears her gold and stormsilver with sapphires wedding ring on her hand, and there are subtle cosmetics on her face, something that makes her eyes a little more intense in soft browns. She knocks, and waits with her hands clasped in front of her.

A young woman in a maid's livery answers the door, her dark blonde hair pulled back into a tidy bun. She curtsies to Avrenne and says in a high-pitched, soft voice, "Good day, Lady Fallon. Please come in, I'll tell Lord Tennerow you've arrived."

"Thank you, Maren," Avrenne says, as she steps inside with that stately walk, something regal in her bearing.

Maren ushers Avrenne to the sitting room, with its two cushioned chairs and loveseat around a central table. It clearly also serves as a reading room and a music room, considering the bookcase and the harp in the corner. There's a smattering of sheet music on the floor by the harp. Maren bobs another curtsey and then backs out of the room, leaving Avrenne to make herself comfortable.

Avrenne sits in the same chair as before, arranging her dress to fall around her elegantly, her eyes flicking around the room as she notes the details, what has remained the same, and what has changed since her last visit. She folds her hands over each other in her lap, left over right, wedding ring on display, something in the poise of her suggestive of someone sitting for a portrait, waiting neither patiently or impatiently.

The room has changed very little, except that the harp corner is just a touch less tidy than before. Since Dara always kept it nice, it would not be unreasonable to assume that someone has recently rifled through it.

It isn't long before Devon enters the room, a brown linen suit his own concession to the weather. He smiles with genuine warmth when he sees Avrenne, though there's still a tightness around his eyes that speaks of stress and worry. He bows before moving to take the other chair, saying, "Lady Fallon, it is always a pleasure to speak with you."

Avrenne gives him a small smile in return. "Lord Tennerow, thank you for seeing me. I realize it has been…quite an unusual few weeks," she remarks. It isn't her strongest entry for the Understatement competition, but she might be simply putting the recent events tactfully.

"Unusual, yes," he nods, gracefully taking his seat. "Has there been some additional catastrophe that I should be aware of? They do seem to multiply these days."

"Not that I am aware of, but I did ask that the next catastrophe wait until at least after Siamus' birthday," Avrenne says in a dry, teasing sort of voice. "Unfortunately, that was several days ago, and I expect the next one will think itself with full permission to arrive any moment now."

"It does seem so," Devon says with a nearly inaudible sigh. "We're still busy dealing with the last several in the House, as it is."

"Mm. Siamus is currently still at home, for that reason. Although he hopes to return to Northrend soon, as a Vice-Admiral should be at the front of the fleet, naturally," Avrenne says, and there's an irrepressible touch of pride in her voice. It's fair. It's only been a few days since the promotion. You might think she was at least passing fond of the guy. "Though, on the personal front, it has been quiet in our household for the moment at least."

"Naturally," Devon agrees with a smile. "I cannot imagine anyone who deserves that post more. It is… quiet here, as well. In case you hadn't heard, Leric was at the Wrathgate battle. He survived, and he's going to continue the fight in the north."

"Yes, I was quite glad to hear it while I was in Wintergarde. It was a relief to know he was well, after so many were lost." Avrenne allows a moment of solemnity. "Has he been keeping well since? After such a horror as a battle like that, as you well know," her voice gentles, "It can be important that a soldier feels connected to the world still."

"I think so," Devon says. "It's always difficult to tell such things through letters, but I believe he has the companions to keep him grounded. I know he regrets missing the invasion of the Undercity, regrettably brief as it was."

Devon pauses at a faint sound of footsteps, and Maren comes in with a little tray of tea and a variety of cookies. She places it on the table and curtsies again.

"Thank you," Devon nods, and she backs away with a nervous smile.

Avrenne's expression remains as composed as ever, her eyes flicking from the tea to the maid and then back to Devon. "Lord Leric has always been a patriot and a commendable soldier," Avrenne says tactfully, and somewhat ambiguously. Her feelings on the invasion don't seem clear from either her manner or tone. "His service is, as always, very much appreciated." She pauses, looking at the tea, as if either waiting to be served, or potentially start planning to serve herself. "I hope that as a survivor of Wrathgate there was at least a measure of peace granted knowing that the ones behind it have been served their justice."

Devon moves to serve the tea to Avrenne himself as the maid leaves, and says, "At least some of them have, certainly. I considered I should travel that way myself, just to speak with him directly. There are other matters I might see to as well - I would like to speak further with his quel'dorei companion." He finishes pouring and sets the pot aside.

"Oh? Do you have concerns about the quel'dorei politically, with the way tensions have grown, or is this more of a personal matter for your House?" Avrenne asks politely, picking up her tea, adding nothing to it, sipping it while it is still hot.

"I think the quel'dorei are well out of those tensions," Devon says, then reconsiders. "At least, they are on our side of it. But still, I know so little of their families. It's not the same as drawing closer to the houses of… Lordaeron or Kul Tiras, for instance. I would not want to misstep politically."

"Mm. Well, even when a nation or people might remove themselves from an Alliance, there are always some patriots who remain loyal, and I expect any House that you would approve of would be such a House," she says diplomatically. "We cannot know what the future may hold for the quel'dorei as a whole, but individuals may make their own choices."

"Indeed," Devon takes a sip of his own hot tea. "As for our own future, it seems that success against the Scourge will only free us to attend yet another front."

"It very well may," Avrenne agrees. It's unclear if she hopes for it or not behind that poise of hers. "We will be well served considering ensuring that we have both a strong defense at home, should we find ourselves in such a position, and a stronger offense at the ready at the decision of the Alliance leadership. It was no coincidence, of course, that the Horde targeted the Kul Tiran navy so heavily in the Second War." There's something brief in her face, in her voice, a flash of something hard and cold, and then it's gone, so quickly it's not entirely clear if it was truly there at all. "A strong navy has always been a point of weakness for them, and even now with the addition of the sin'dorei and their ships, well." Avrenne raises her brows. The implication that their ships would not withstand certain naval tactics goes unsaid. "It is always best to prepare rather than be caught unaware."

Devon smiles faintly. "If you're asking if the plans for the Fleet still have my support, the answer is yes. Whatever the future holds, it will be best to meet it with strength. "

"Of course. I did not doubt that you would see so, Lord Tennerow," Avrenne says, with a small smile of her own. "But what was once a thought of what might be best for some unforeseen catastrophe has now become one with a true potential for a time limit. We may be able to avoid an escalation while the Lich King remains a threat to all, but once we are victorious, well." She sips at her tea. "As we have just seen, if we want to ensure the Alliance remains whole, we must anticipate and assume that the Horde is also seeing to their own preparations, and act defensively accordingly. We shall simply have to ensure that those with less military experience are able to see the benefit of it. We do not need to declare war to be ready for it should it come."

"Convincing a populace to not tire of war is a difficult task," Devon says, frowning in thought as he taps one finger against his teacup. "They will clamor for it, I think, after Wrathgate. But when the sacrifices must be made, loved ones lost, supplies running low… I think we had best to focus on how to achieve a rapid and decisive victory."

"There is always something different though, isn't there, of a war of one's choosing, and a war that is brought to one's doorstep. One can plan for peace all one wishes; that is not what makes it happen. There are still many of us who know — who remember — what it is to have one's city destroyed by a war that came suddenly, without warning." Avrenne's voice goes sharper, a tensing around her eyes and mouth, and she sits back a little more with her tea, the movement covering the moment as she shed's the emotion.

"Well. That is perhaps part of what some need to be reminded of, with time having passed and memories faded." She sips her tea. "I heard that you have had quite the success in beginning to revitalize Lord Ference's plays. Well done. So many of them are musicals that I do wonder if Lady Dara has any interest in perhaps performing for them?"

Devon's brow furrows further at that, though surely he's not concerned about the idea of Dara playing for the theatre. "I have not raised the subject with her, but perhaps she might. Have you spoken with her recently?"

Avrenne's brows raise. "No, not lately. But, I was in Wintergarde for two weeks, and well. When I returned, my focus was on assisting some of the local infrastructure needs of the orphanage situation in the wake of recent losses. Last I heard, Lady Dara was volunteering there. They spoke of her when I was there. Has she been kept busy with it?"

"She was, yes," Devon says a little vaguely. "I believe she was volunteering together with a young woman by the name of Miss Mullby, preparing for the expected… well, for what was likely to happen after the Wrathgate. She is a very busy young woman and difficult to keep track of at times."

"Mm." It's a non-committal sound, as she drinks more tea. "I do hope though that she is not skipping meals. One must always make time for eating properly," Avrenne says, her tone somewhere in that ambiguous range of an older sister and motherly. We are going to ignore the fact that she, herself, absolutely does not follow this advice. "Perhaps you might ask her at dinner tonight if she has any potential continuing concerns? And I would be glad to hear of any news of Miss Mullby. I have a passing acquaintance with her, and do hope she has been doing well."

"I have been working rather long hours of late, and don't seem to overlap with Dara," Devon says, taking another sip of tea. He still looks deeply concerned. Finally, he says, "I do not know where she is. I came back to the townhouse several days ago, and found her gone. I expect she's traveling somewhere and I have simply not found her note."

Avrenne's expression grows serious. Well. More serious. She sets her teacup down. "Gone? Without word direct?" That definitely has a scolding sound to it, likely directed at Dara rather than Devon. "She is, well. Of course she is an adult," Avrenne allows. "But during such times as these… Is anything else missing, luggage or dresses? Anything that might suggest an intentional trip of length?"

"Not that I've noticed, but she has so many clothes, and luggage as well, for traveling between Stormwind and Redridge. I want to believe it's nothing but miscommunication of some sort, but I'm getting worried," Devon lets out a breath with a touch of relief at the admission. "There's been no sign of violence. No ransom note."

Avrenne picks up her tea to sip at it, to all appearances considering something. "I do not mean to imply anything indelicate, but in the interest of eliminating all possible causes, have you checked the banns? Any notices of recent marriages?"

"No, no sign of her there. She has been very insistent on finding herself a suitable match lately, but I hadn't moved on any of her proposed candidates." Devon shakes his head. "It is… possible it is something of that nature. Can I trust you not to raise the rumor?"

"You have my word on the matter, Lord Tennerow. I would not wish to do anything that could cause harm to your House," Avrenne answers with that grave solemnity. "You can be sure I will not further any such rumors and gossip surrounding one's marriage and betrothal, nor allow them to be spoken of in my presence." It's possible that her own history with that particular rumor mill lends a touch of sharpness to her tone, but it's subtle in the cool formality. "She did have some candidates in mind, then? Have you spoken to them recently?"

"She had at least half a dozen proposals," Devon says, setting down his teacup. "I'm sure I have the papers still in my office somewhere, the benefits and drawbacks of each." He sighs. "She's been like that since things fell through with the Valonforths. If there was someone she cared deeply enough for to elope with, I would have liked to know."

"Well, she is young," Avrenne says, as if she is not only just a mere four years older, but actually technically closer in age to Dara than Devon, but never mind that. "And when one is looking for a love match…" She moves her hand in a vague circle in the air. "It can be so quick." Ahem. Not that she knows. Serious, business arrangement Duchess.

"The trouble now, of course, is that if you were to make inquiries directly yourself, there would be…implications." She drinks the rest of her tea and sets the teacup down, reaching automatically for the teapot to pour another cup as she thinks. "Perhaps someone might make a round or two of the local churches. Simply to check if there have been any recent weddings with anyone matching Lady Dara's description. Someone who might go less noticed than a prominent House member."

"I have been trying to be careful. I asked several of her friends if she'd been in touch, but the only one who might have a hint that something may be wrong would be your sister-in-law." He pauses, considering. "I could send Maren, but she might be recognized, by the particularly observant. That, and her responsibilities will already be expanded, with Dara's absence."

"Mm." Avrenne looks at her tea for a moment. "Oh. I may perhaps have something. I have been assisting in locating potential instructors for the Warlock's Ethics Bureau. They are currently looking for priests of the Light in particular, and one of the founding members, who works for Siamus, Miss Coit, specifically asked if we might have any recommendations. I could send one of my household to inquire about such, and perhaps they might subtly look into recent events, making polite conversation. Then we need not have anyone remembering anything of note regarding someone of Lady Dara's description, particularly should it prove that she was simply away."

"That would be very helpful," Devon smiles briefly. "If only to rule things out. But… may I ask what it is the warlocks want with Light priests?"

"To provide perspective and support, as well as a better balance. That is one of the greatest dangers we are seeing with warlocks and the fel, with its corrupting influence, by its nature, the risk of isolated and over-immersion in the study of the fel can be best countered by ensuring access to the broader cosmic forces. It is, in fact, true even of any practitioner, both the arcane and the Light, that one benefits from exposure to more than one perspective. There are unfortunate examples of what happens when dedication to study slides into isolation and then, inevitably, into zealotry." Avrenne sips her tea. She isn't naming names, but ::coughScarletOnslaughtcough: :coughKael'Thascough::. "Truly, it is one of the principles I admire in their mission statement."

"I suppose that does sound wise," Devon nods. "It is not a thing I have had to consider, as I don't think the same temptations arise for soldiers. I admit I personally know very little of the fel, though I have seen no other reason to think poorly of Count Tyrrell. As well, in this time of uncertain allies, I would support the warlocks not setting themselves off in a secret corner to not be seen or understood by others."

"Precisely. The Alliance is stronger for our integration of perspectives, and each individual benefits from having such. And particularly now with the recent losses…" Avrenne's expression shifts, a pressing of her lips, a tightness around her eyes, that suggests even through the composure the anger and grief still simmering beneath. "Well. There will be some warlocks who have been studying independently who may now see the benefit of serving under the guidance of the Alliance army, to be regularly part of such integration, and with comrades in arms to help keep them balanced.

"If you did wish to know more on it, perhaps for your own purposes of local defense, you might want to speak to Captain Tyrrell himself. He is here in Stormwind for the next few months, due to the necessity of recruiting and training soldiers for the 7th Legion after their losses from the Battle of the Wrathgate."

"I may do that," Devon says, glancing down to pick up his teacup. "The Captain is something of a neighbor, of course, and I… I suppose it's only natural he suffered losses at the Wrathgate. So many of us have. I was lucky that my brother was near the back of the battle, but…" Devon pauses, taking a moment to banish unsightly sentiment behind a polite mask as he takes a sip of tea, "I have lost my share of friends as well. Did you know Lord Hugo Montall?"

"Oh, no," Avrenne says softly, as she sets down her teacup again. "I recall he and his wife were friends of yours. I am sorry to hear of his loss, Lord Tennerow. Is his wife still…?"

Devon's face is somber, but he nods. "She was, naturally, not at the battle. He's left her with two little ones, though, the youngest about the age Dara was when we lost our own father to war. I'm trying to help, in what ways I can."

"Of course. It is very good of you to see it," she says, and it sounds sincerely meant. Avrenne, for some reason, puts a hand gently on her waist, looking at her tea.

"I trust they will be well, in time," Devon says, looking down at the tea tray. "And I am sorry to be the one to bring you news of his passing."

"No, I appreciate the news of it. When it has been loss on such a scale, it is nearly impossible to learn the name of every soldier that was lost, but they each of them matter, each of them was a world unto themselves, and it is right to grieve them. I am sorry for your loss of a friend, and on his wife's behalf."

"Thank you," Devon bows his head slightly. "I will pass on your condolences, as I expect I will see the Lady again soon. Is there anything else I might do on your behalf?"

Avrenne's brows raise briefly in true surprise, as she looks up at Devon and there is, for a moment, something softer about her expression, warmer and more genuine, before she covers it with a small smile and a reach for her teacup to finish off the last of the tea in it. Everything is back to composed by the time she lowers it. "That is very kind of you to offer. I am quite well. Although, if I might ask you to consider a small favor on behalf of another? I understand that you are at least of some acquaintance with Captain Tyrrell, as a neighbor. Recently, he lost several of his unit, and I have been collecting portraits of those he knows better than others. He is a friend of Siamus', and in times like these, reminders of one's friends and acquaintances who care about one's well being can be crucial for a soldier, as I am sure you well know. Would you be willing to pose for such a portrait?"

"A portrait?" Devon blinks. "I suppose I see no reason why not. I did not realize he would have thought of me so highly."

"Captain Tyrrell is such a man that locating those who he is fond of has been an interesting challenge, but while not a man of sentiment, he is a man of respect and regard. That he has trusted you with his estate speaks particularly of his esteem." Avrenne sets her teacup down and adjusts her dress to ready to stand. "Thank you, Lord Tennerow. I shall have Lady Priscilla contact you for the sketches soon. I believe you have met before?"

"Oh, yes, certainly," Devon nods. "She's an excellent painter, both in terms of brushwork and in terms of the emotive quality of her work. I should be honored to be a subject."

Avrenne's smile is brief but warm, as she stands. "I shall pass on the compliment. She will be glad to hear it." She adjusts her sleeves, ensuring they aren't sticking to her in an unseemly way in the heat. "Oh, if you happen to speak with Captain Tyrrell on the matter of the WEB, you might wish to know more on the intended use of Drakewatch as an orphanage due to the…influx of children in need of a home." That was odd — a small waver in the duchess' voice, a moment where she sets her hand on her waist again. Goodness. One might accuse of her having feelings next. Perish the thought.

"Oh? That's very generous of him, to open his home in such a way," Devon says, rising with her. "Perhaps I should speak with him as to what may be needed when his work with the 7th Legion draws him away."

"Of course." Avrenne reaches out a hand, palm down, appropriate for either a clasp or a kiss, it seems left up to him. "And I shall be certain to let you know if I hear anything of note about your sister. Do let me know as well if you hear from her."

Devon takes her hand in his, a brief clasp, and nods. "I certainly will. Thank you for coming by today, Lady Fallon."