(2024-06-24) Resignation Part 2

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Author:	Athena
Summary:	Shine holds to Siamus' first condition of agreement for his resignation in House Fallon, of informing the Lady Fallon that he's leaving, but he's not Leaving. 3k~ words.
Rating:	T for Teen

Chain: Siarenne

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After the Resignation…

It is early yet — not quite an hour after Siamus and his newspaper vanished from the breakfast table for his office — when he appears in Avrenne's open door. He knocks courteously on the doorframe before entering. "Mo chroí? May I steal a moment of your time for some business?"

His tone is, in fact, serious and businesslike. He does not mean business.

Avrenne, seated at her desk with a stack of stationary, flicks her eyes from her paper to Siamus, then back to her work. Even from just the glance, there's a telltale lighting up of her face at the sight of him. She finishes a line in the letter, completing the thought, before she sets the pen down, and turns her attention fully to him. "Yes, of course, Vice Admiral." He might not mean business, but that just makes him all the more attractive anyway. In Avrenne's world, business is pleasure.

Siamus smiles back at her. "In my office, if ye please." He offers his arm to escort her.

It is a short trip across the hall and down to the open door of Siamus's office. He ushers Avrenne in. Shine is there already, dressed in his casual clothing; it is the second of his two monthly days off. He's standing casually by the hearth, hands in his pockets, studying one of the maps with his head canted, but he turns as soon as he hears the couple enter.

He nods to Siamus, and then more deeply to Avrenne. "Lady Fallon," he says.

Avrenne might have made some assumptions about the business at hand, as she dips her head in faint echo to Shine, and a warm smile. "Shine." With only the two men there in the office, Avrenne is there with her real face — or very close to it, at least — and not her mask of composure. "I do hope this is about the business of leisure. It's your day off." It's a cross between a playful tease and a light scold. Take your vacation days, Shine, gosh. No, don't ask Lady Fallon when she takes her vacation days. She'll have you know she's got a like, quarter-day vacation day coming up this week in fact for their first wedding anniversary. Do as she says, not as she does.

Shine moves to the other couch and settles directly across from her. He sits forward to rest his elbows on his knees, a very casual, very un-footmanlike posture. His gaze on her is still serious and respectful.

Siamus sits down at his desk once the two of them are seated.

Shine clears his throat and says to Avrenne, "I wanted to tell you directly, Lady Fallon, that I've given my two week notice. I'll be resigning my post to enlist with Cobalt Company."

Siamus has seen this particular expression on her face before, but Shine has not. Her expression shifts from that attentive listening to the horror and shock of someone who has been stabbed in the chest, a fatal wound, and she can see the hilt there, knows what it means. Blood drains from her face, and she reaches out blindly with a hand towards Siamus — much too far away — to try to steady herself, hitting the couch instead, as her right hand goes to her waist like she's trying to hold in something.

There's a barely vocalized what, as Avrenne scrambles to shove everything fast enough back behind a wall, building it in real time in front of Shine, a hasty pulling on of her composure she hadn't thought to have on already. She barely has the start of it formed as she asks him, "You're leaving the House?" And there is something in the way she says it that sounds like what she's actually asked is 'you're leaving me?'

Shine's eye widens. He looks stricken by the change that comes over her, and looks to Siamus for help.

"He's not leaving us, mo chroí," Siamus says gently, and casts a look and a sharp nod back at Shine.

Shine looks at Avrenne again. "I'm not," he says. "Only stepping down from service. I'll be… I'm still House Fallon. Aye? And I'll be —" He gestures at Siamus. "Fallon's offered me a room. An upstairs room. I'll still be here wi' the family."

The composure is assembled quickly, wrapped within the Duchess, but it sits with a fragility over her, like a single wrong touch will shatter it. She clasps her hands together in her lap — tightly together now, squeezing hard enough that it must be hurting her — her shoulders rigidly squared off, her chin lifted high, and a wall down over her face. Her voice is lower now, controlled carefully.

"No, of course. You would not leave — " Her eyes flick to the side in the direction of Siamus, though she doesn't turn her head, doesn't actually look over at him. "Any friend of Siamus' is always welcome, for as long as you wish to stay." The flash of her throat in a hard swallow is the crack in the composure. "If your resignation has anything to do with the position I have asked you to take, or if you have had dissatisfaction in the management of the House of the past year, you have my deepest apologies."

Shine knits his brow. "No, Lady Fallon. He asked me the same. I've never been anything but glad to be of service to the House, and I'm sorry to step down from it now when we're already in a tight spot, but there are so many other people looking for harbor right now, and I know Fallon House — you and his lordship — will make them as welcome as the rest of us have been."

He studies her again. "And perhaps," he says carefully, "we might still play billiards from time to time? As friends? Though I warn ye I won't play as easy on a friend as I would with a duchess." He watches her, uncertain whether he's going to get away with that remark.

The composure does shatter — but it's into a vulnerable looking relief. It's not the duchess that breathes out a shaky puff of a laugh, but just Avrenne. There's enough of a sheen of tears to suggest they were there behind the wall, but the water doesn't grow, receding into a smile. She can't raise a single brow, so she raises both, as her hands relax in her lap, and shoulders round slightly. Her voice isn't cold, and it isn't composed; it's slightly teasing, if a little hoarse. "That was you playing easy? Well, then. I'm rather doomed, aren't I?" There's a particular gleam in her eyes though. "For now."

Shine laughs too, relieved. He sits back, looks to Siamus, and gestures at Avrenne. "Do ye see? Do ye see what she's like?"

Siamus, smiling, leans back and laces his hands together on his chest. "Ye should ask rather, Am I surprised? And the answer is no. The lady's a cutthroat, I tell ye, man. She plays a game to win it."

"Have you played her yet?" Shine asks innocently. "After the lessons I've given, I should think ye'd want to judge her progress yourself."

Siamus looks narrowly between them. "This feels," he observes, "like a trap."

Avrenne grins, turning in her seat to face Siamus, looking at him over the curve of a shoulder with absolutely nothing innocent in her eyes. "I suppose that depends on if you would care to wager on a game, Vice Admiral. We could play for a flower. Dog rose? Cape Jasmine? White hollyhock?"

"Dog rose," muses Siamus. "Tempting."

It's Shine's turn to look between the two of them. "I do not understand," he tells Avrenne, "what ye've done to make him so keen on flowers, all of a sudden, but I suspect I don't want to understand, either."

Siamus grins wickedly at him.

Avrenne turns back to Shine, and there's a brief consideration before she smiles at him, leaning slightly forward. "It's not really a secret. It was an old fad in Lordaeron ballrooms some many decades ago. They ascribed meaning to flowers to create an entire language of it, like the tattoos," she says, her eyes flicking to where Shine's are in a quick glance as if she can see them through the cloth, tapping them off maybe in her head of what they mean. "I call them Languages In Between, these sorts of half-languages not quite entirely a new one, but built of symbols and codes that create a subset of meaning within themselves. Naval flags, Morse code, sailor tattoos, constellations, heraldry. This one, flowers, it's not a popular one any longer, and has no real use. Few know even of it, let alone have the flowers memorized extensively, to be able to read them and write in the language. I wrote Siamus a book of it, and he learned it." That she directs to Siamus, with that glowing bright smile. Now you know of it, too, Shine. Some things about Lady Fallon might make sense, from her obsession with the representational tattoos of sailors to why she's weirdly into bouquet making as a stress relief.

Shine raises his eyebrow. He does, indeed, look enlightened, and he gazes between the two Fallons now. "I can see — not that I could not before, ye understand — but I can see now, Fallon, why ye find her not just an excellent but such a fascinating lady." His lips twitch but he does not smile. "It is because the pair of ye are such precisely matched lunatics." The word is affectionate rather than judgemental; Sintha can manage to make 'jellyfish' sound more offensive than Shine does 'lunatic.'

It probably says something about Avrenne that she only looks pleased to be called not only fascinating, but a precisely matched lunatic with Siamus. Her two favorite things, plus a side-ways reference to the moon.

Siamus says to Avrenne, "And now ye may see what it's like to have the man for a friend. Ye should have heard him address me the night ye were at labor. The disrespect, I tell ye."

"It's not my fault you're so high-strung," Shine tells him. And then, to Avrenne, "Your interest in the tattoos was novel, for a lady and a mainlander, and it was gratifying for the lads to tell their stories. Your language collections sound a remarkable study."

There's a soft touch to her expression at the mention of Siamus' difficulties with her long labor, but she turns her attention back to Shine. "It's a cherished hobby of mine, finding new ones. And I was glad to learn of it, to be able to read into that world, and offer properly due respect to the work done by those who have earned their marks." She sobers slightly, studying Shine more closely. "If I might ask, you are decided on Cobalt Company, then?"

"I am," he says, serious now himself. "I've given it thought, and spoken wi' Miss Coit about it."

Siamus makes a very faint, startled sound. This was not data he received earlier.

Avrenne's expression twitches, a flicker of emotion around her brows, but she inhales as she sits back into the neutral straight back of her usual posture. "That is reasonable, of course. Miss Coit would be the best expert to speak on the company with here at the House," she says, and although it's only an informational true statement, it frames it in a certain light. "May I ask what the primary draw of the Company is for you?"

Shine nods. "I don't believe I'm… suited for the standard arrangement of a landbound army. The size of a standard army unit, the tactics of lines and formations — I was a marine, and I'm used to fighting fast and free with a smaller crew of men than an army company. I will also admit to the pair of ye that… I've not been much impressed by what I've heard of the army's leadership in Northrend. From the pair of yourselves, in fact.

"Cobalt is a smaller, freer crew. They go places and handle work the army won't, and they seem good people who do good work. And Fallon respects them enough that he's hired their people himself."

"One might argue that if so many good people were not currently employed in Cobalt, and were fitted properly into the leadership of the army that it would be more fit an operation that could continue to attract true talent and be a far more effective force of the Alliance." Avrenne sighs, resettling her hands in her lap in an idle gesture, her voice dry. "But then one would have to be arguing within a perfect world of instant change that does not exist and does not contain the flawed system and flawed leadership currently in place, and the truth of the matter is that if one is talking about efficiency of taking action now, not in five years after massive reform, there really is only one reasonable course, and that is what Cobalt Company offers, and why such talented individuals gravitate to it. I do understand. You have my support, Mr. Shine, as your friend, for whatever you might require."

He smiles at her. "I appreciate the understanding, Lady Fallon. And it is indeed a question of taking action now, before all your husband's hair turns gray wi'these troubles. Look at the poor man, he's fading before our eyes. It's for him as much as myself that I'm doing this." He manages his deadpan admirably.

"Oh, I don't know now. I hadn't realized this was to prevent grey hair." Avrenne turns to face Siamus again, eyes inspecting his hair, her voice teasing. "I must admit I've always been a little partial to some grey, especially against dark hair. It's distinguished and rather attractive." She flicks her gaze to Shine. "You'll have to promise to not work too hard, at least until the temples go a little." Is she negotiating how fast to turn Siamus gray for aesthetic? Maybe.

Siamus leans forward and peers at Avrenne. "Are ye negotiating how fast I should go gray?"

"I thought you admired the lady's gift for negotiation," Shine observes solemnly.

Avrenne's expression is of false composure, her eyes too warm to fit in the mask. "I'm willing to listen to competing bids, Vice Admiral." Yeah, Siamus, put in your bid for how fast you wanna go gray. She'll take it under advisement.

"I am certain," says Siamus, "that I can make ye an offer that Mr. Shine cannot."

Avrenne's smile is almost not fit for company — sorry, Shine — as she raises her brows at him. "But can you, or will you, outbid my own offer?" Before Siamus can answer that, she smooths out her dress, that little indication of an intent to rise. "We can discuss terms later." She looks back to Shine, and before she does stand, there's a bit of odd extra movement of her hands on her skirts, a little flutter of her fingers. "And in the meantime, perhaps you might consider, Mr. Shine, that my friends call me 'Avrenne.' You may have the use of it, should you wish to." It's an offer, and a suggestion, not an order.

Shine raises his eyebrow. His expression softens, as he and Siamus both rise at the clear signs of Avrenne's preparation to. "I'd be very honored. And I'd welcome ye to call me…." He smiles wryly. "… just Shine. I don't care enough for my given name to answer to it."

Avrenne rises with that practiced elegance. "Oh, of course." There's a pause, a consideration. "I do hope it isn't from excessive mainlander mangling of it, with the final syllable in particular? Tyne instead of the proper tin?"

Shine looks levelly at her for a moment, and then he turns to look at Siamus. "What is it ye say of her?" he asks thoughtfully, with the air of a man who knows perfectly well.

"Unnatural canny," Siamus supplies helpfully.

"Aye, that was the one." Shine turns back to Avrenne, smiling. "Perhaps," he concedes.

"Mm." Avrenne sets her hands in a loose clasp in front of her. "'Shine' it is then." She turns to start to go, pausing at Siamus' desk, to look back at Shine. "I am writing a very simplified, abridged version of the Floriography, the flower dictionary, for one of the Gilneans who inquired about it." She directs her attention to Siamus, to offer in explanation, "He's a member of Lord Graves' pack, a particularly calm young man, whose sister is a paladin, and who says that he is a 'harvest witch,' and an alchemist with a special interest in using flowers for magical purposes. I introduced him to Lord and Lady Ference, as a potential appeal to their sensibilities, and he expressed interest in the floriography language." She switches back to addressing Shine. "If you would want one, a Floriography, to know of it, I would be willing to make a second copy."

Shine cants his head, considering. He looks at Siamus again, and then back to Avrenne. "I would be interested in such a thing, thank ye, La— Avrenne. Though I'm afraid neither of ye can expect me to memorize it. I shudder to think now what I might learn of the pair of ye, if I could decipher your flower-language at a glance."

He does not look like he is shuddering to think. He looks like he has a pretty good idea of the kind of thing he'd see.

Avrenne looks at Siamus, blowing out breath. "Oh, good, our secret arrangements of assignations will remain unknown," she says with false, teasing relief. There's a wicked gleam in her eyes as she says, "See you at 3pm, Vice Admiral." And sweeps onward to see to the rest of her morning business. She's got an afternoon appointment to keep, after all.

Flower Meanings:

Dog Rose: Pleasure and pain
Cape Jasmine: Transport of joy
White Hollyhock: A woman's ambitions fulfilled through benevolent means

(They are also all flowers that the Fallons have used to flirt in their letters (and Siamus' nickname for Avrenne of 'my joy'), to add to the levels of the in-joke used here.)