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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Reniya Hartrim returns abruptly -- and unhappily -- from his investigation in Dalaran. Joelle Ebek owes the Fallons a new door. Siamus Fallon would like everyone to stop Emotioning; the Duchess Esprit is on it. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: The Red String Game
The night of November 15th is just like the nights that came before it: dark, cold, and with a sprinkling of rain. Inside a certain gremlin house, which squats on the end of its street, a paladin and worgen have retired for the night. It is a peaceful night; a stray cricket plays a tune outside their window to the accompaniment of gentle sleep-softened breathing. And then that silence is broken, shattered by a cold metal scream. “Lathrik! LATHRIK! If you’re getting this, I need you. Ren needs you.” The desperate voice belongs to a priest, Adrin Moores, and is garbled by static and radio waves. “The… the Mage Tower. Come to the Mage Tower! I’m… losing him!” But the box is in the other room, the noise from it muffled by the closed door. Lathrik stirs, but doesn’t wake.
Natalyah, on the other hand, flails into a confused snarl of half-awake panic born of exceptional hearing and poor instant waking instincts of sounds not yet catching up to her properly, scramble-tossing both her and Lathrik half off the bed, as she yells, "The one with the pincers!"
This does jolt Lathrik awake, and he falls the rest of the way to the floor. For a moment he sits there, staring at Natalyah as he slowly processes what was said. “Oi. Pincers?”
"What? What pincers?" Natalyah asks in return with new alarm, the context of whatever dream she was in gone like summer's sunshine in midwinter. "Ren's hurt from the pincers?" Wait, when did Ren get involved?
[Rewinding noises. Please hold.]
Natalyah shakes her head like a dog shedding water, trying to get herself back onto the bed in the dark blackness of the room, clawing the covers up to herself, pointing a clawed hand towards the direction of the box. "No, it was — there was shouting, from the box thing." She gestures more impatiently, frustration in her voice and hand. "Something about Ren. It woke me up."
Lathrik frowns and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, the noise comes again.
“Lathrik, please. Oh, Light… there’s some manner of poison. My heals aren’t taking like they should. At this rate, he really will die!” A split second of paralysis jolts through Lathrik’s body, before he rises and makes for his pants. “Just… confirming here,” he says to Natalyah, his voice almost too calm. “I’m awake this time?”
Natalyah blinks faintly golden eyes in the dark, caught half in her own scramble now off the bed, twisting the bed clothes up to pull off the mattress, fumbling for the matches to light the candle. "Yes?" she says, half a question, half a statement, shrill to the point of a shriek as panic rises and catches on her faster than flame on the match does.
A shudder runs through him. Though his eyes are semi-adjusted to the dark, they’re still not as good as Natalyah’s, and he fumbles with his pants, ultimately pulling them on backwards. The candlelight appears moments too late, and he does not appear willing to remove the pants and start again. “I’m going,” he says, as if there was any doubt. “Stay here? If he… doesn’t make it, ye don’t want to watch, aye?” Pants accomplished (sort of), he moves on to his shirt with urgent haste. That goes a bit smoother. If it's backwards, or inside-out, it's harder to tell.
"Stay here? Stay — where are you going?" Natalyah asks, and there's a roll of tension all over her as she tries to force a shift — and fails. Whatever memory of what woke her, entangled within the half-presence of a dream, is too unclear. "Where is Ren?" In her panic, and her fear, she hasn't even remembered to call him 'Reniya.' Oops.
“I’ll find out on the way,” he replies, sweeping from the room a little awkwardly, because pants. He grabs a mana potion from the coffee table in the living room, swirls it, and throws it back, then tosses the empty container in the direction of the disposal bucket. It misses, shattering instead against the wall past it. “I can get that when I come back,” he says, grabbing the black box and his sword from the shelf by the door.
"Find out on the way?" Natalyah yells back incredulously, naked, unable to do both follow him into the living room and also maintain the dignity of half their bedsheets as a toga. "I swear if you —" She cuts off the thought, huffing in frustration and fear. She will do many things, but running naked through the streets as a beast, wildly chasing after a paladin with his pants on backwards is a line she isn't willing to cross. Not for Ren, at least. "Fine. When I can, I will find you, Lathrik!" Is that a reassurance… or a threat? With Natalayh, it is probably both.
“Not if I find ye first,” Lathrik says, and then he starts shoeless towards the door.
Speaking of getting places first — the door remains closed by a large, bestial clawed hand of blacker darkness in the dim light of the room. "Lathrik!" Natalyah scolds, a roughened growl making the word harsher, the hulking size of her more intimidating as she balances to straighten up. Another hand points at his shoes, which are right there. "Your shoes! You're not running through the streets barefoot. There are a hundred things that will cut your feet up if you aren't careful. Ask me how I know!" Or don't. He's in a hurry. He probably doesn't want the bonus lecture about traveling Stormwind with the inability to wear shoes in one form.
Lathrik stares at her for an entire two seconds. Surely she’s not being serious. But she’s not moving, which means he’s not moving, so he drops to the ground and pulls on his shoes, stopping again to look up at her once he’s got them on his feet to see if she’s still there. He doesn’t need to tie them, does he?
Natalyah makes an exasperated scoffing sound that rumbles deeper in her chest. "Really?" she asks. "Lathrik, do you really want to explain to Ren that you're late because you tripped over you laces running round the canal like a toddler? Tie them right. You'll run faster with them done that way than all loosey goosey."
Lathrik grumbles something about “Bleedin’ shoelaces,” and ties them properly, scrambling back to his feet once he’s done. “That’s all?”
Natalyah considers him for a brief second, and then visibly decides no, that's not all, ducking her head forward to lick his cheek in a quick touch. With it, comes a rush of a blessing of [Fortitude], a benediction of the Light. "Whatever happens," she tells him, a warning and a worry both, "it isn't going to be all your fault." She jabs a knuckle to his chest. "And remember that I'll love you no matter what that is." And with that, she opens the door in a yank, shuffling to the side in a hop. "Now go!" The order is accompanied by a Shield of the Light, and the burst of sudden extreme speed it grants from a Holy Priest.
A spark of pain passes through his expression, followed by a sudden reluctance to leave. The thought visible that maybe if he stays put, time will freeze in place and he won’t have to witness what could be the end of his closest friend. But the moment passes quickly, (only quick enough to make use of a second of extra speed) and finally Lathrik leaves the house, taking off down the street at a run.
Lifting the black box, he speaks into it. “Adrin, report. Where is he?”
There is audible relief in the priest’s voice, let out in nearly a sob. “The Mage Tower,” he says. “We came through a portal, but…”
“Oi. Save your energy. Do what ye can until I get there. Elle? Ye listening?”
There is a moment of silence, then a quiet, tight voice responds, “Yes.”
“I need ye to let Fallon know what’s goin’ on. Fast as ye can. If there’s an active threat he’ll want to know it.”
Lathrik presses on. Though the precipitation is light, a mere misting rain, his clothes and hair are soon damp enough to drip. Above him, a gryphon circles, then dives down, landing directly in front of him. Lathrik skids to a halt, shaking rain from his eyes to catch a glimpse of its rider.
“Take it,” Ilanya says, dismounting and pressing the reins into his hands. She’s wearing an unusual red and blue outfit, complete with a cape, and Lathrik stares at her, probably wondering for the second time if he’s really awake.
“Why —” he begins.
“Do you really have time for that right now?” Ilanya asks, pushing him closer to the gryphon. The creature squawks, sensing the anxiety in the air, his feathers ruffling nervously. “Go! We’ll talk later!”
“Aye…” Lathrik mutters, and climbs onto the antsy gryphon. Soon they are sky-bound.
ELSEWHERE
Joelle flies through dark damp skies, pushing the borrowed gryphon as fast as she will go towards the coast of Elwynn where House Fallon stands. It is the middle of the night, and the armor he’s wearing is only for show, having been crafted for a stage production. He didn’t have time to change.
The radio is eerily silent as the House comes into view, and without even considering the front door, he alights on the first balcony in sight. Panic ripples through every muscle as he dismounts, and without so much as a knock, Joelle braces himself and rams his way through the door, stumbling once he gets inside and struggling to get his bearings.
Lights begin to go on through the house, beginning near the point of Joelle's entry and spreading gradually outward across the house from there. No light goes on in the rooms immediately beside the door through which Joelle has just unceremoniously entered, however. This room — the Astronomer's Suite, as its known in the House — remains dark even as the door eases open and a one-eyed man steps silently into the hall carrying a cocked pistol.
He levels the gun casually at Joelle. "Let's stop there, aye?"
Joelle raises his hands, the black box clutched tightly in one of them, and it's clear from the tension in him that it's taking every ounce of self-restraint to not ignore the man with the gun and keep going. "I need… Fallon. Now. Please. Lathrik said…"
DOWNSTAIRS
Siamus Fallon has sat bolt upright in bed, his gaze cast upward as though he might see through the ceiling to the floor above. He flings back the blankets and finds his trousers, which he does not put on backwards.
Avrenne, jolted into waking from Siamus's own, flicks a hand, and the lights in the room blaze in sudden brightness. The benefits of a fire mage. "Siamus? What is it? A nightmare?" The words are already out of her mouth before she sees what he's doing, and then she is out of bed, grabbing her robe from its place on the floor where she discarded it hours ago, and putting it on as she waits for some explanation.
Siamus shakes his head at Avrenne, still gazing upward. "There was a noise. I'll go and see, aye? Likely nothing."
This statement is rendered immediately less convincing when, having unceremoniously pulled a half-buttoned shirt over his head, he opens a bureau drawer and takes out a pistol of his own.
He glances at Avrenne. "Look to Ery, pet." He's out the door and running barefoot toward the stairs. Vane, who was running in the same direction accoutered in similar fashion, pauses politely to let Siamus take the stairs first. It's order of precedence.
Avrenne's expression hardens, fires lighting in her eyes, as she takes off swiftly towards the nursery. The sound of a baby crying in protest of being unceremoniously lifted up and woken from her sleep carries through the house. Avrenne tries to hush the screaming baby, holding Ery balanced along her shoulder and resting slightly over her pregnancy, her eyes ablaze as she listens.
Emelia thumps out of bed, blinking confusedly at Avrenne’s presence and Ery's cries.
The crying is not, in itself, an uncommon enough sign to be alarming. The running through the halls, however, is less so a common sound. There are several possible reasons for it, and with a woman in the midst of a high risk pregnancy still much too early for a safe end to it, one of them is at the forefront of some minds. Finley is out of his room in a flash, his door banging against the wall his haste. His intended direction is first towards the Lord and Lady's bedrooms, his face white and sweat on his forehead of a man afraid he's about to be asked to witness the potential death of his liege.
Isla bursts out of her room in a clumsy fumble, temporarily forgetting which way her door opens in her rush. "Is it the babies?!" she yells, in her outdoor voice, as she tries to run through the hallway (never a good idea) in the dark (a worse idea).
Ralaea, also alerted by the sudden sounds of CHAOS, emerges from her room, two swords at her side. Her expression says she is ready to use them.
Tabiana, meanwhile, heads straight for the nursery, where she knows Avrenne will be. She is also armed, and carries a small round shield with her. Her hair is still down, however, and cascades over her shoulders in a black curtain.
The door to Lena's room opens, and she peeks out, looking around to see where the chaos is and if it's dangerous. Something shadowy shimmers near her fingers.
A stocky, grizzled man in a woolly bathrobe emerges from the Rose Room, squinting with hard-eyed caution. The pocket of his bathrobe is suspiciously weighted. Does… does the priest also have a pistol? Casker John moves toward the door of the nursery from which he can hear Ery's cries, and plants himself outside it moments after Tabiana enters.
UPSTAIRS, AGAIN
Shine neither lowers the gun nor softens his manner. "You're going to have Fallon quick enough, wi' that entrance. You're also going to have a half-dozen marines and conceivably a warlock. Stand fast and maybe it won't be trouble." He pauses. "By 'Lathrik,' d'ye mean Dinnsfield?"
Joelle's impatience has started to take its toll. "Ren," he tells Shine, ignoring the man's question. "Ren is… I have to…" The black box in his hand begins to creak and warp in his grip. He takes a step towards the stairs… and is accosted by a grizzly bear. Or a man who could be mistaken for one, at least. Jeremin Hartrim has emerged from his room, and all but tackles Joelle to the floor, containing him there using the bulk of his weight.
Shine glances briefly ceilingward — tides give him strength — and lifts his pistol to point it safely in the same direction. He moves down the hall toward the pair on the floor.
At this moment, the Vice Admiral and his domesticated vrykul both arrive at the top of the stairs, and Siamus skips a neat sidestep to avoid stepping on the two men on the floor. He takes the situation in and glances a sharp question at Shine as Vane moves to help Mr. Hartrim sit on hold Joelle.
"Asking for you," Shine says curtly to Siamus. "Sommat to do wi' Dinnsfield and — " He eyes Jeremin.
Joelle stretches his hand holding the black box slowly towards Siamus. He can't really lift it off the floor, on account of being sat on held down, but he offers it anyway. Please take it before he breaks it, sir. "Ren," he croaks out, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Adrin said he's…"
"Said he's what?" Jeremin prompts as Joelle fails to speak the words.
Again, Joelle attempts to hand the box to Siamus.
AND BACK DOWNSTAIRS
Ralaea runs into the problem of trying to navigate the same corridor as a rushing Isla. This results in a collision, not at all as purposeful as Jeremin's tackle of Joelle, but with a similar result, as both girls go crashing to the ground.
"Oh, for fuc — " Finley curses, as he turns on a dime to try to help Isla and Ralaea disentangle before he can run towards Avrenne.
Avrenne, meanwhile, is a bastion of forced, purposeful calm. When Tabiana arrives, she is bouncing Ery lightly, whose cries are subsiding into uneasy hiccups. "The Vice Admiral is seeing to it," she tells Tabiana. "There is no need for any panic."
"All the same, I will remain at your side," Tabiana says, offering a light, if slightly strained smile. "I can offer companionship, if further aid is unnecessary." She does not seem panicked herself, only alert.
Emelia wrings her hands helplessly. Childcare she understands. House break-ins are something else. "Friendship can get us through tough times! Good job staying calm, friends!" she chirps out nonetheless.
Ery, perhaps to spite her, picks up a new wail of protest, grabbing onto a fistful of Avrenne's hair, loose and flowing over the Lady Fallon's back.
No one seems to be dying, so Lena emerges into the corridor.
LENA’S ASSESSMENT MIGHT BE PREMATURE
Siamus recognizes Joelle. He blinks and lowers his pistol, then takes a careful step toward him and bends to accept the black box. He preempts Jeremin’s question by telling Vane, "I know the lad. A Stormwind Guard. Let's get him out of the hall, aye? Calm him down."
"My room," Shine suggests, and goes back through the open door into his sitting room to kindle a lamp.
Vane tucks a hand under Joelle's arm in preparation for hauling him to his feet as Siamus steps away with the black box.
Penny peers at them, emerging once it seems like the situation is under control. "It's about Ren?" she asks cautiously.
Her mother does not emerge from the room. She has probably fainted.
"I'm coming too." Jeremin nods in acknowledgement of Siamus's suggestion and helps Vane get Joelle back up.
Joelle, for his part, seems to be cooperating now that Siamus has been informed… more or less.
Siamus steps aside and directs them with a curt gesture toward the Astronomer's Suite, where Shine has now taken up a post by the door to usher the group in.
The sitting room is papered and furnished in dark blue, with dark wood floors and paneling and a well-worn blue-and-white rug. Star charts hang on the walls, and a globe and an orrery sit on the fireplace mantel; a chess set is arranged on the coffee table between the couches, apparently mid-game.
Penny stares apprehensively at Joelle as they shuffle into the room, trying to read his expression. His eyes, usually calm pools of dark chocolate, are now wild with panic, and tension hardens every muscle in his body. But still he cooperates, and moves into the room with the others.
"Ren is what?" Jeremin prompts again, his own expression stern.
"…dying," finishes Joelle, his voice barely a whisper as he finally spits it out.
Jeremin looks sharply, almost accusingly at Siamus, while Penny sinks down onto one of the couches, a soft, "Oh…" escaping her.
Siamus halts in the doorway and turns his back on everyone to examine the black box he's holding. Experimentally, he tries, "Dinnsfield?"
Shine, meanwhile, moves into the room with the rest. He goes matter-of-factly to the desk beneath the windows to put his pistol back into the drawer there. "We'll wait," he says to no one specific, "until the Vice Admiral has the facts of the situation. What's your name, lad?" This latter is addressed to Joelle.
"Elle," Joelle says to Shine, at a normal volume. "Ren is… important to me."
The box in Siamus’s hand crackles to life, a voice coming through that is not Lathrik's. "Is this Lord Fallon?" the man on the other end asks. His voice sounds weak and strained. "My name is Adrin Moores, a priest in service to the Stormwind Guard. Can I assume Joelle made it to you?"
Siamus takes a further step into the hall and away from the group. "Aye," he says, in efficient response to both questions. "What's happened, Mr. Moores?"
In the sitting room, Shine says to Joelle, "I expect Mr. Hartrim's important to several of the people present. The Vice Admiral will sort it out. Did ye fly from the city?" His tone is mild, conversational, but as he speaks he flicks a hard sidelong look at Vane. The shave-headed giant, no longer required for sitting on holding Joelle, has been standing impassively beside a couch. He nods now at Shine as some silent communication passes between them, and eases out into the hall and past Siamus to head toward the stairs.
"A little further," Joelle says to Shine. "I was at Count Amerith's manor. Don't tell Lathrik."
Shine blinks once at the name Amerith. It might be hard to tell though. He only has one eye. Maybe he was winking. (He probably wasn't winking.) He looks toward Siamus in the hallway.
Adrin speaks again, the box protesting all the while. Apparently Joelle did manage to squeeze it a bit too hard. It's fine, it still works. For now. "We ran afoul of some villains," he says. "They must have been mentioned in the report Reniya sent you? We have been… in their possession for some time now, and were only recently retrieved." He pauses here to catch his breath.
"I've read the reports," Siamus agrees tersely with the voice on the black box. "What's Hartrim's present status?"
AND WE’RE DOWNSTAIRS AGAIN
Vane, meanwhile, arrives on the second floor to head first to the nursery. "Your Grace," he informs Avrenne. "All's safely in hand."
Avrenne regards Vane evenly. "Of course," she agrees, as if there was never any doubt that things could be anything but safely in hand. Ery sniffles angrily into her mother's robe, chewing on a chubby hand, glaring with black eyes at the world. "What was the cause of the disturbance?"
Vane glances at Tabiana and then back at Avrenne. It might be a Significant Glance, but it's hard to tell because Vane does not really do facial expressions. "A member of the Stormwind Guard with some urgent business for the Vice Admiral," he tells her.
UPSTAIRS
There is silence from the box. Roughly fifteen seconds of silence, in fact. Then, his voice airy and a bit breathless, Adrin speaks again. "He's… bleeding out on the floor of the Mage Tower," he says. "Lathrik only just arrived, but there's poison… and it has layers to it. I don't know if —" The transmission cuts off abruptly.
Siamus regards the silent box for a moment and then says something that he would not ordinarily say in the presence of a lady; sorry, Penny. He says it very mildly and matter-of-factly. Then he turns to enter the sitting room and crosses to Joelle to hand the box to him. "Can ye fix it in the next three minutes? It will take me that long to get properly dressed and if it's not done by then, I'll use my hearthstone to the city to sort it out." He casts a look over his shoulder at Shine. "Miss Coit can summon me back."
Shine nods curtly.
Joelle takes the box back and looks it over. "I can fix it," he says. He smacks it a couple of times.
Static follows, then, "…died."
Joelle practically shoves the box back into Siamus's hands.
Siamus takes it again, his expression unchanging, and moves discreetly out into the hallway once more. (It is a veneer of discretion, at least; it's not as though anyone in the room can't hear him perfectly well.) "Repeat that last," he says. "We lost the signal after ye said 'poison.' Hartrim's status?"
"He's…" a deep breath follows. "We've lost him. Lathrik is attempting to call him back now. If that doesn't… If it doesn't work, he's gone."
Penny looks as though she might take after her mother for a moment, her face paling beyond all reasonable shades of white. "I think I need to lie down," she says.
Jeremin, distracted from his intense staring at Siamus, moves to closer to Penny, a sign of support. "Do as you need," he tells her.
Joelle no longer has anything to squeeze but himself, and he does so without complete awareness that his fingers are digging deep into his palms.
"I'll wait on Dinnsfield, then," Siamus says. His tone is still even, but the rigid tension in his jaw and shoulders is evident. He glances over his shoulder once through the open doorway of the room and then turns his back again, his head bowed and his focus on the black box intent.
Shine steps over to the couch to put a hand on Joelle's shoulder. He nods somberly at Penny.
Minutes tick by in silence. Three, if anyone were to ask Joelle.
And then, finally, Lathrik's voice comes through the box. "The situation has stabilized," he reports. "We're a wreck, but we're all here. How would you like to proceed, Vice Admiral?"
Siamus takes a step back and physically sags against the wall in a moment's speechless relief. When he lifts the box again to reply, though, it is in exactly the same clipped, level tone. "Are ye in a state for summons? I'll have my warlock bring ye here."
In the sitting room, Shine pats Joelle's shoulder once and steps away. See? It's fine. That's enough of that.
Joelle's tension releases at once, and he fights to unclench his hands. Penny finally faints. It was a relieved faint, probably. Jeremin stands guard over her while she recovers.
"Long as we don't need him standing, he'll survive a summons," Lathrik replies. "There is… someone else ye might want to bring as well, but we can help with that summon. Lass who rescued the pair and got them to Stormwind."
"Right," says Siamus to the black box. "Give us a few minutes to get in order here, and wait for the summons. I'll be sending for Hartrim first." He turns to step back into the room. "I'll have them brought in downstairs to a quiet room. Our priest can look at them there."
He does not wait for dissent or dispute, but turns away again to head for the stairs.
Shine opens the inner door of the suite and vanishes within briefly; when he returns he has a folded blanket, which he brings to drape over Penny.
DOWN WE GO
Downstairs, Siamus follows in Vane's footsteps to the door of the nursery. To Casker John, who still stands guard outside, he says without preamble or anything like a request, "Go to the Compass Room. There might be need."
He leans into the nursery itself. "Mo chroí," he says, "are ye well?"
Casker John sets off down the hall toward the Compass Room.
It's only obvious that some actual worry had taken hold of Avrenne from the flood of relief that briefly resets her features when Siamus comes into view, and the way she steps towards him, eyes flicking over him in way that may be too obviously looking for signs of blood or evidence of a fight that would explain the thumping noises of people being tackled to the floor. It's veiled back behind her composure, but she does lean towards him like a sunflower seeking the sun.
Ery sleeps, draped across her mother, drooling through a slack, smooshed mouth, one hand still holding onto a lock of Avrenne's hair, the other tucked up under her chin oddly reminiscent of Avrenne's own habitual sleeping habits.
"I am perfectly well, now," Avrenne assures Siamus. The use of now is pulling maybe a little more weight than it should be, but here we are. "Vane said it was something to do with the Stormwind Guard?" It's a statement and a question all in one.
Tabiana remains silent, but looks to Siamus as well.
Siamus casts that same little flick of a glance toward Tabiana that Vane had, but doesn't address her. He nods and comes fully into the room to slide an arm around Avrenne, and bends to kiss the top of Ery's white-blonde head briefly.
"Aye," he says low-voiced, though whether the soothing tone is aimed at not waking the baby or at some other goal is not obvious. "Bit of a scare. Hartrim was injured, but he's well now."
Relatively speaking.
"I'm going to have Miss Coit summon the group of them to the Compass Room." He looks up at the ceiling. "The other lad from the guard — Joelle? — is still in a state, but Shine's with him. I'm afraid Miss Hartrim may have become overwrought. I'd like to… keep any fuss down, for now."
Tabiana closes her eyes briefly, but she keeps any emotions she has to herself. She also does not interrupt.
Avrenne's brows draw down as she tries to parse the who is where and what and the math of summons. "Naturally," she agrees to the last, her voice soft and low. No one wants any fuss or overwrought ladies. Avrenne has held her questions until now, but they have come due. "I don't understand. Who is here, now? Mr. Hartrim and Mr. Joelle, with Shine? And more to be summoned? What was the noise upstairs? Were they fleeing something?"
Does she need to start barricading the doors, or loading a pistol, or readying to make someone a sheep?
Siamus slides his hand to rest it on the small of her back. "Joelle came to the upstairs door and broke in. He was — in some distress, but meant no harm, only to find urgent aid. His management of the situation will have to be addressed separately. Shine and Mr. Hartrim — senior — stopped him from raising a further scene until I could get there and be apprised.
"Reniya is still in the city with Dinnsfield and a colleague of theirs. He was injured but Dinnsfield got it under control. It's to do wi' the matter I engaged him for, however, so I'd like to verify his status and debrief him. To that end, I'm going to have Miss Coit summon. Meanwhile, Hartrim Senior, Miss Hartrim, and Joelle are all still upstairs wi' Shine. I haven't seen Mrs. Hartrim, but I am assuming that's because she went straight to overwrought without any further information."
There is a tightening around Avrenne's lips at news of the break in, but she says nothing of it. It will be addressed separately. "I see," she says, as she moves towards Ery's crib to gently set the baby back down. There's a brief jerk of Ery's arms, a startle, but she doesn't wake fully, settling back in, rolling onto her side. "I can see to Mrs. Hartrim, and Miss Hartrim, and reassure them that everything is under control and will be handled, and perhaps bring things down to simply wrought."
You would not, from her manner, guess her to have been awakened in the middle of the night by the threat of a home invasion, and not simply going about her regular routine. She gazes up at Siamus, clear-eyed and calm. "Do let me know if you have other need of me."
Siamus takes her hand and lifts it briefly to his lips. "Thank ye, Your Grace. I'm sorry for the trouble to ye."
Releasing her hand, he turns to Tabiana and nods respectfully. "Obliged to ye, Miss Lynds." And then he heads out again, striding down the hall to find Lena.
Avrenne takes another route first to her room, where she puts her hair up into a simple rolled bun at the base of her neck, her house slippers on, and proceeds at a quick waddle an efficient pace up to the third floor, to first locate and assess Mrs. Hartrim before she attends to Miss Hartrim, in order of those she suspects might be in A State.
Lena is lingering in the hallway, trying to see what all the fuss is about, but quietly.
Siamus comes down the hall from the direction of the Lord and Lady's rooms and the nursery. Although he has clearly dressed in some haste — he's barefoot, shirt untucked and not fully buttoned, and wearing what appear to be yesterday's rumpled trousers — he is moving with the same purposeful stride as when he crosses the deck of a ship to issue orders to the crew. In his hand is a battered-looking black box device.
"Miss Coit," he says. "Will ye join me in the Compass Room? I need some summons."
"Summons? Of course," Lena says, reaching to confirm she has her soul shard bag with her. She always does, even if she probably doesn't need it ordinarily in the halls of Fallon House. To be fair, she has needed them often enough that it merits carrying. "How urgent is it?"
"Urgent," Siamus says, and perhaps underlines this fact by neither slowing nor stopping as he reaches her, but continuing straight down the hall past her toward the wing with the wards’ rooms.
Lena picks up the pace, scrambling after him towards the Compass Room as she starts to pull out shards. She's ready to go.
DOWN THE HALL
Isla had nothing but the best of intentions on getting disentangled from Ralaea. The fact that Isla does not have her own limbs sorted out in her sphere of awareness and control around her environment, however, did put a damper on those plans to gracefully find her way back up off the floor and off her fellow ward sister.
It probably would have helped if Isla had just gone limp and let Ralaea simply heave her off. Isla did not go limp. Isla scrambled.
Unfortunately, adding to this unintentional dramatic rendition of two kraken battle on the seafloor was Finley, whose eyesight in the dark is only so good. His grasp of which one was Isla and which one was Ralaea was a hit-or-miss 50/50, and sometimes he definitely had the wrong one as he gave helpful encouragement such as, "Don't be stupid, Isla," and "Just let me get you up," neither of which enraged — oh, who are we kidding.
Isla's assertions that she can do it herself and she's fine only escalated, resulting in several unintentional smacks and whacks on Ralaea, and — at one point — one swift kick that was meant for Finley, but which he dodged by being actually a full foot away already and Isla having both terrible aim and no awareness of how long her legs really are.
This spectacle does give Siamus pause. It brings him to a halt, in fact.
Casker John, who was en route via the southern side of the floor, has also stopped, and is regarding the spectacle bemusedly. He has not lived in the main house long; this is baffling behavior.
Siamus has lived in the house for a very long time, but would concede it is kind of baffling behavior. Nonetheless — "Stop," he says.
It is not quite a raised voice, but there is some commander's force behind it.
Ralaea, who had also been scrambling — to escape her unexpected attacker, and making things worse in the process — stills at once. She glances up in Siamus's direction. "Did… Did I miss it?" she asks. She is probably referring to the intruder.
Lena stops immediately on command, frozen in the corridor holding soul shards.
Isla shrinks back in teenaged embarrassment and horror at being caught by Dad the Vice Admiral, which is just as effective as any reason involving following orders. She is now no longer a kraken; she is a droopy little squid, sliding off Ralaea's top half onto the floor, and letting her legs (one of which is trapped under Ralaea, the other over) go limp. She mumbles, "Sorry, I'm sorry."
Finley snaps up straight as an arrow, arms to his sides, with a, "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"It's fine," says Siamus in a curt tone that signals it is not exactly fine but he does not have time to enumerate the things it is. "Ralaea, will ye help Isla up, please? Everything else is well in hand. A visitor with urgent news; Miss Coit and I need to get past to summon some people." He gestures down the hall toward the rooms beyond.
Ralaea, now free, gets to her feet and holds a hand out for Isla. "You need an extra hand for summoning?" she asks. "Or have you got someone in there already?"
"For the babies?" Isla asks, half-worry, half-embarrassment, all panic rising. "Are they coming? Are there even more babies??" She takes Ralaea's hand, but it's a bit of an awkward scramble up.
Finley looks aghast at Siamus. Surely not. He gets another hand up under Isla's armpit and heaves her up.
Siamus considers Rae. "Ye can come," he decides. Casker John casts him a weary sort of I'm-right-here look.
"Her Grace is fine," Siamus tells the other two, his voice gentling a degree. "The babies are not coming. Miss Lynds is with her, and they've gone to visit wi' the Hartrim ladies." As though paying late night social calls on one's houseguests is an ordinary occurrence. You know, off to one of the Duchess's midnight Ladies' Teas.
"I only need two people," Lena reminds, nodding at Siamus and Rae.
Finley nods. "Then we'll get out of the way," he says, half to Siamus in acknowledgement and half to Isla, who meekly nods, which says much for how embarrassment has its way with her at the moment. "I can attend to Her Grace to see if she has need of anything from the kitchens or the staff for the visiting, after Isla's back to bed."
That almost gets a protest from Isla, but she gathers the Mood of the hallway and just nods again, staring down at Siamus' sho– bare feet? Okay, yes. She will go to her room at least, but she's not sleeping. Clearly something dramatic is afoot.
"Thank ye, Finley," says Siamus. "Isla." He steps around the Hallway Posse and continues down the corridor to the Compass Room. He does not wait to see whether Lena or Rae is coming. He also does not wait to see whether Casker John is coming but maybe he's just forgotten about that guy.
Ralaea is following so closely that she's very nearly walking on his heels. Important summoning is going to happen. She manages to avoid spewing all her questions at once, but the impatience to know their answers is written plainly across her face.
Lena is following just behind Ralaea, her face a careful pleasant mask. If she has questions, she isn't asking yet.
Siamus opens the door and steps into the Compass Room; he does not slow his pace but immediately crosses to kindle a lamp.
Once they are in the room, Lena voices the most important question. "Who am I summoning, sir?"
Siamus turns around and finds Rae standing right there. He gazes down at her inscrutably for a moment and then looks past her to Lena. "Reniya Hartrim, Lathrik Dinnsfield, and whomever else they tell us is needed."
Casker John comes in after the others and closes the door quietly.
"But they're…" Ralaea frowns. "Wait, not Natalyah? They're just in the city, aren't they? Did the dragon come back?"
"Do you know them well?" Lena glances from Siamus to Rae. "I'm afraid I don't, and that will make the summoning harder."
"I know them well," Siamus confirms. One of them well-er than the other, but. "And Ralaea is acquainted with them both." To Rae herself he says, "Hartrim was on a job for me — an investigation — and he's been seriously injured. Dinnsfield is with him, as well as… some colleagues of theirs, I believe."
Ralaea is still frowning, but she moves into a clear space in the room. "Alright. No time to waste, then?" No, she is not done with her questions, but she is at least sensible enough not to stall them further.
"Which the most well, then?" Lena asks, holding up a crystal. "Hartrim or Dinnsfield? I'd like to start with the easier."
Siamus hesitates. "I know Hartrim best. And I told Dinnsfield I'd be sending first for him, since he's injured." He lifts the black box. "Dinnsfield? Ye there?"
The box crackles in response. "Aye," comes the reply from Lathrik. "We've cleaned him up best we could, but there's not an abundance of towels lying around the Mage Tower. Don't let the mess surprise ye."
Ralaea mouths 'Mage Tower.'
"Right," says Siamus. "Summons for him in just a moment." He sets the black box on the table with the lamp and crosses to where Lena and Rae are already standing.
"Let's do it," Lena says, holding up a crystal and starting the ritual. The portal begins to form, and she murmurs Reniya Hartrim.
Ralaea adds her will to the ritual, calling out for that one insufferable man who has inflicted a baby on Tabiana.
What? Knowing him doesn't mean she likes him.
Siamus reaches out to the portal, his expression grim and intent.
There is a weak response to the call, a gentle tug like a fishing line pulled taut, and then the ritual completes and Reniya appears seated on the floor between them, his shirt and the upper section of his pants drenched in blood. It seems to cover the right side of him more than the left; that's probably the side the fatal blow was struck. Aside from the obvious, his clothes are distressed, and there is visible bruising along his cheek and jawline that was likely unable to be healed.
He stares at his surroundings and there is a noticeable disorientation as he adjusts to the new setting. Then he catches sight of Siamus and smiles.
"Mate," he says in greeting.
Siamus, having taken a step back, stares down at him for a moment. He has gone noticeably pale, his jaw set as he studies Ren black-eyed. When he speaks, though, it is in his usual, gently sardonic drawl. "Tides a'mighty, Hartrim. I thought we'd agreed there was no need for ye to put Dinnsfield to the test on the question, aye?"
He steps in again and bends to get a grip under Reniya's arm. "Can I get ye up to the bed?" This is not the offer it may sound like, because he adds, "The priest will have another look over ye while we call in Dinnsfield and the rest."
The Priest, as he is apparently now to be known, approaches in case Ren needs more than one support to be shifted up to the bed.
Lena, her eyes widening at the state of Reniya, has already shifted to summon a healthstone when the mention of the priest reminds her there are more effective healers present. She cuts off the gesture.
Reniya attempts to stand with only the one aide, but the strength to support himself is just not there. His legs buckle like a newborn fawn, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. "S'pose I won't be seein' the outdoors for a time," he says, surrendering himself to The Priest as well.
Ralaea observes Siamus for a moment and does a quick glance over Reniya.
Siamus and Casker John get Ren sort-of-settled, sort-of-propped on the end of the bed, and Siamus returns to the summoning portal to focus again.
"Lathrik Dinnsfield," says Lena, and begins to draw the portal. Now is not the time to ask questions. Now is following orders time.
Rae joins her in calling out to the paladin.
"Well," Casker John observes kindly to Ren. "Ye look like shite, there, lad." He bends in to examine the bruises on Ren's face sympathetically. "Like ye went a few rounds, aye?"
(He is a Kul Tiran priest.)
"They had a lass, took a liking to me," Reniya says, still smiling. "Drove 'er somethin' mad that 'er torture didn't take. She didn't have the mind for any real horrors, so I've still got all my fingers."
And his finger, his smile indicates.
Lathrik appears in the room soon after the call, as though he was waiting for it with his entire being, ready to accept the moment he caught the hint of it. His clothes are hastily thrown on, his pants are backwards, and he is still slightly damp from the rain, but at least his shoes are properly tied. His eyes, ringed with red, seek Reniya immediately, and, upon confirming his safety, flick to the others.
He nods his thanks to Lena, then clears the summoning area, taking a position nearby. "I'll have to help with Adrin Moores," he says. "'Less ye know him from someplace. There's a lass, too, and Ren will need t'help with her. I don't know her aside from what I saw of her moments ago. Ren could help with Adrin, but I'd rather not tax him, if it'll work well enough without."
"Your pants are backwards," Ralaea says, looking him over.
"You know the lass's name?" Lena asks, her voice cold and professional. "I can't reach out for something as general as 'a lass.'"
"Her name's Samiella Verglas," Reniya says. "She's… important. And I owe 'er."
"Here," says Siamus, without remarking on the backwards pants since Rae has that covered. "Ye can step in for Ralaea, Dinnsfield." He nods to Rae. "Ralaea, will ye go to my rooms and fetch some clean clothes? Couple've shirts and a pair of trousers. Any will do so long as they haven't got blood on them." He considers this and then adds. "Chest of drawers, work clothes are on the left side." In case Rae is tempted to bring back a dinner suit or something.
"Chest of drawers, left side," Ralaea repeats, mostly to herself as she exits the room.
"Adrin Moores first," Lena says briskly. "And hopefully Hartrim will be in shape to summon Verglas after."
Siamus lifts his hands to help channel the portal, casting a look at Lathrik. This one's mostly you, big guy. Siamus will try to focus on… his five minutes' familiarity with a staticky voice.
Lathrik is smaller than you Siamus, but he reaches out, calling for a familiar blond bespectacled priest, who appears a few moments later and drops to his knees with an exhausted sigh. His glasses are bent and missing one lens, and he, too, has a few visible bruises, but there is notably less blood on him. The majority of it seems to have come from a split lip, and possibly his nose. The rest, gathered on the sleeves of his robe, is Ren's. He still clutches his wooden staff tightly in hand.
"Please forgive my manners, Lord Fallon," he says from the floor. "As you can likely see, we had a bit of a time."
"Your manners," says Siamus dryly, "are rather better than I'd expect from a man in your situation." He offers the priest a hand up.
"Next, Samiella Verglas," Lena says, pulling forward a final soul shard. "Can Hartrim stand, or should we move over to the bed?"
Siamus glances over at Reniya for the summoning verdict. "If Hartrim can manage — whether sitting or standing — then he and Dinnsfield can see to it, as I know the lass even less than Dinnsfield does." He turns his gaze back to arch a brow at Adrin. "Unless ye know her as well, Moores?"
"Ah, yes, I do. Better than Lathrik, at least," Adrin says, accepting the hand up. He bows his head. "Thank you."
"Hartrim is going to stay where he is," Lathrik says firmly. "If the summoning can be done seated?" He looks to Lena for confirmation.
"Yes, as long as he can reach, and he can focus," Lena says, stepping over towards the bed. She looks from Moores to Hartrim a little warily, suddenly summoning strangers with strangers. Will it work? She takes a breath, determined to try. "Let's do it, then. Samiella Verglas." The portal begins to take shape.
Reniya's focus is a little bit wobbly at first, but the magic is stabilized by Adrin's calm and professional presence. It is clear they are both exhausted, though. It takes longer than usual for the ritual to catch its target, but when it does, a woman with darker skin offset by a very pink dress appears in the room carrying an expensive staff. Just by looking it is obvious that this staff, with its beautifully carved wood and large green crystal focus, belongs to a powerful mage.
Samiella sticks the staff behind her back — which of course doesn't hide it, but maybe it's habit — and takes in the room. "So this really is a Lord's House," she says.
Siamus takes in the very pink dress. And the lady in it. And then the un-hidden staff. And then the dress again. Or the lady. "It is," he agrees politely. Ma'am, this is one of the more modest rooms; you ain't seen Lord's House yet. "Ye'd be Miss Verglas, then?"
Samiella glances at Reniya, who gives her an encouraging smile. "Yes," she says, as if reluctant to even admit her own name.
"Ye should know," Lathrik says, turning to Siamus. "Ilanya was with us too, up until the summons. But I don't imagine we want her here, considering what this whole thing was about, aye?"
"No," says Siamus pleasantly. "I don't imagine we do." He surveys the assembled group. "If ye feel up to it, Hartrim, I want to hear this. Moores and Miss Verglas should stay. Dinnsfield, your other friend is upstairs in my lieutenant's sitting room, in a state of… some agitation. Ye may want to go and see to him, for his sake. Miss Coit can show ye the way. Casker," — oh he does remember the priest's name — "will ye get hold of Moirin or one of the other lasses and have hot tea and something to eat sent up?" He takes in Ren's condition again. "And a bottle of whiskey."
Lena steps back, glancing to Dinnsfield and gesturing to the door.
Lathrik looks extremely reluctant to leave Reniya, but ultimately he does, stepping out ahead of Lena, then waiting for her to guide the way.
"Babyface here can do most've the talkin'," Reniya says, gesturing to Adrin. "It gets a bit fuzzy for me after a point." Adrin pushes his nonfunctioning glasses further up his nose. He might as well take the things off at this point. "Where would you like me to start?" he asks.
IN THE HALLWAY
"Maybe you can fill me in on the way?" Lena says in a low voice to Lathrik as she exits the room. "I have no idea what's happened, either."
"Aye, I can tell ye what I know, at least," Lathrik says. "How much has Fallon told ye about what Ren was workin' on? Anything?"
"This is all about… Count Amerith?" Lena guesses. "Or is this something completely different?"
"Mm." Lathrik nods. "About a mage who sent a Darkmoon Faire cannon to the Scourge, we suspect on behalf of Count Amerith. The man disappeared, and Ren was sent to track him down. Seems he wasn't the only one looking for him, though. Adrin wouldn't give the details of who, seeing as we were in a public space, but they were held captive in their room for… two days, from what it sounded like, while their captors tried to get the mage's location from them."
"So the mage is still at large," Lena says, frowning. "But this Adrin will tell us who he is? Or she?"
"Aye, whatever was going on should come to light soon," Lathrik replies.
"That's good," Lena nods. "And I'm not sure we were introduced exactly, but I'm Lena Coit, fleet warlock. I've been just on the edge of things, but you can trust my interest and Fallon's align."
"I trust Fallon's choice of personnel," Lathrik says. "Ye know my name, but I'll say it regardless. Lathrik Dinnsfield, Stormwind Guard. I am aware my pants are on backwards, I dressed in the dark."
"Given all the chaos here at Fallon House, I trust you had good reason to," Lena says, with a quick flash of a smile. "Though now that the most dire bit is done, I could take you by a washroom to swap them rightsides first if you'd like."
"Aye, let's do that," Lathrik says. "Appreciated."
Lena takes a left towards the stairs and pauses at the door to the Tiragarde Suite. She gestures him in. "Just through here, door on your left. I'll wait you here in the hall."
Lathrik nods his gratitude and steps into the room(s) to change.
When he emerges, his pants are properly situated, facing the correct direction and everything, and he is about to gesture for them to proceed when Ralaea appears from the Vice Admiral's room, carrying two spare shirts and a pair of pants.
"You moved," she accuses him.
"You got lost," Lathrik observes.
Ralaea scowls at him, and tosses a clean shirt into his arms. "Put that on."
"Oi. I just changed."
"So do it again." Ralaea brightens a little, giving Lena a tiny smile. "Feel free to boss him around. He deserves it."
Lena laughs. "Maybe I'll leave that to you. But Lathrik, I'll wait here if you're going to change again."
Lathrik glances between the two women and sighs, then proceeds back into the room(s) to change again.
UPSTAIRS AGAIN
On the third floor there is a quiet more reminiscent of a library headed by a stern, no-nonsense librarian who does not and will not permit either tomfoolery or hysterics, rather than an actual bastion of true serenity. The librarian in this case is the Lady of the house, the Duchess Esprit, who has had the task of collecting the distraught Mrs. Hartrim, gathering the older woman's emotions like unshelved books and setting them firmly into a cart, and reuniting her with her overwrought daughter. Lady Fallon has firmly, in the tone of someone who will not have her authority questioned, assured the room that all is being handled; there is no longer, if there ever was, any reason to panic. The Hartrims’ son is being cared for by the best possible people, and all will be answered and addressed in due course, which is not Now.
Now is tea and cookies.
There is something so normal about it — eating and drinking from fine porcelain as Lady Fallon makes small talk to ask simple questions such as where Mrs. Hartrim got her slippers and whether Miss Hartrim has been to the Cathedral District when the apple trees are in bloom — that the idea that something horrible could be happening just downstairs starts to seem incongruous and impossible. If there was something horribly wrong, surely they would not be sipping Earl Grey with a squeeze of lemon and discussing floral trees, would they? Trust in the Duchess, who has her trust in the Vice Admiral and the men downstairs. Calm is suggested, but in a way that doesn't really allow for any other option.
It is this atmosphere and vibe that Lathrik and Lena arrive into, the Hartrim ladies seated with Lady Fallon, the men of the room permitted to stand or sit as they prefer.
Finley chooses to stand by a corner near the desk, arms crossed, holding one teacup he isn't drinking from in a tight grip, shoulders hunched, and his expression forcefully bland.
Shine, seated at the desk, is also holding a teacup and looking bland, if not forcefully so. He appears perfectly relaxed. Yes, he always takes tea with the Duchess and assorted household guests in his sitting room in the middle of the night, this is all very ordinary. He listens to the Duchess's small talk with every appearance of interest.
Penny and Othelia sit side by side holding hands while Jeremin looms over them. He is not interested at all in the small talk, and keeps glancing towards the door.
Joelle, seated on the opposite couch, is staring into a teacup as if wondering what he should do with the liquid inside. His hands are freshly bandaged and he looks as calm as usual, but whether he is or not is not readily known.
As they come into the room, Lena nods to Lady Fallon and then drifts towards the desk and Shine, as if that's really the most comfortable place to stand when things are uncertain.
Shine rises reflexively, as if he were in fact just saving this seat for Lena all along, and smiles at her.
Lena smiles back and says, "Busy day, it seems. Fallon's in the Compass Room getting answers, since he's the one as knows the questions."
"Miss Coit," Avrenne greets her as she enters the room. "Mr. Dinnsfield." Her eyes flick over each, noting the details. At Lena's comment, she nods. "It is just so," she says in support, directing it to the Hartrims. "The Vice Admiral will ensure that it is done as efficiently as possible." The title does not seem just a habitual choice. There is a slight, formal emphasis on it, a reminder that he is a high ranking military officer and commander, and he is the best person to lead.
Seeing Lathrik, both Penny and Joelle rise to a stand and swarm him, Joelle's crushing hug accompanied by Penny's clinging hug to create a Penny-Joelle-Lathrik amalgamation, which one of them is not all that excited to be there for.
"Oi, could ye — Elle, loosen your Light's-damned grip before ye crush me to death," Lathrik gasps.
"Oh. Sorry." Joelle does as he's told, but doesn't let go. The amalgamation lives.
"Lathriiiiik… Lathrik how is he? How's Ren? He's better, right? You saved him?" Penny has broken into sobs, which causes Othelia to stand as well, but Jeremin's hand on her shoulder sits her right back down. Still, her anxiety is plain.
"When can I see him? Please, he needs me!" she pleads.
"Should've had ye bring Elle out to me," Lathrik mutters to Lena.
Lena winces apologetically.
Shine, from where he stands by the desk chair now, says mildly, "Dinnsfield's only come in a short while ago himself. I expect he could do with a cup of tea and a breath before the interrogations begin, aye? We know Hartrim's situation's in hand, as Her Grace and Miss Coit say. Let the man sit."
Her Grace waves a regal hand towards the other couch, as if to draw Lathrik there. "It is late in the evening, after exceptional circumstances," she reminds the Hartrims with a frosty coolness, a reminder that hysterics will not be permitted in this library. And that she is a literal duchess. "We will not be bombarding anyone with questions for partial answers. If you would like to be informed at the earliest possible time of the full situation, then you will wait calmly for it here. There is nothing to be gained by crowding either Mr. Dinnsfield or Mr. Hartrim." Does she make herself clear?
Penny attaches to Lathrik's arm in true barnacle fashion, and also pulls him towards the couch. She's helping now, see? Please don't make her let go.
Joelle, seeing Penny's move, claims Lathrik's other arm, and between the two of them, Lathrik is shuffled onto the couch. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else. In fact… "'Talyah will be looking for me," he says. There. Information presented. Can he go now?
"Talyah?" Lena asks. "Should we send word? Or does she need a summoning too?"
"That would be Miss Natalyah Kensington-Whit, if I recall correctly," Avrenne says, as she leans sideways up to pour Lathrik a cup of tea. She sets two (2) sugar cookies onto the side of a saucer, and holds it out to Lathrik expectantly.
Lena holds up her bag of soul shards, and looks to Lady Fallon in question.
Lathrik considers the cookies, then considers what he may have just brought upon himself. One more potentially hysterical person. Maybe he forgot there was a warlock. Oops. He is so distracted by this new thought that he also forgets to take the tea and cookies, and just stares at them.
"Unless you have reason to believe that Miss Kensington-Whit will be inconsolable and do something unwise, or is in any danger herself — which is not what I would expect from her, though I doubt she is pleased by the uncertainty — I think it would be best if we do not summon anyone else until we have a fuller picture of what has happened. She will be waiting for more information like the rest of us one way or the other. She may as well do it comfortably in your own home, assuming that is where she is," Avrenne says in that no-nonsense tone of hers.
(Miss Kensington-Whit, it should be noted, is not currently waiting, comfortably or otherwise, and not in her own home, but that would not be known by anyone in the room. It may be suspected by the paladin, though.)
Lena turns to Lathrik. Does he have reason to believe…?
"She said she'd come find me," Lathrik says. "But aye, you're right, fuller picture. It'd better serve everyone if I put her at ease myself."
You know. By leaving.
Avrenne cannot raise one eyebrow so she raises both. "And do you intend to do so now with what you know at the moment, or will you wait for the fuller report of what is needed and necessary regarding what created the situation we are currently in so that we do not need to summon you a second time when we learn something of significance that needs to be known immediately?"
They are posed as two possible options, but one is clearly being presented as the significantly more reasonable one.
"We could always send word the conventional way — magic mail," Lena offers quietly, taking Shine's former seat. "We don't need to choose between summoning her and leaving her entirely in the dark."
"There are two communication devices here, Ren's and Elle's. I have mine as well, and can be reached with it if something urgent arises," Lathrik says. "I… expect I'll be returning in a more formal capacity, regardless, seein' as how there's a missing door."
Joelle flinches.
"There will not be any formal charges pressed against Mr. Joelle for breaking and entering," Avrenne says, her composure as flawless as it would be at any hour, as she picks up her own tea, not quite balancing it over her extremely pregnant belly. "As it was clearly not his intent to do so. However, it is the duty of a guard to exercise good judgment and appropriate protocol even in times of crisis — if anything, especially in times of crisis — so it is reasonable to expect disciplinary measures to be taken." There is a reason the woman has a reputation for being cold-blooded and unsentimental. "If you are leaving, Mr. Dinnsfield, then we must be sure of your method of return. The journey back to Stormwind from here on foot in the dark on the middle of the night is not recommended. We can have a carriage prepared to bring you back to Stormwind City." She does not know that there is another mage in the house, one who is likely very capable of making a portal to Stormwind if asked.
"Aye," Lathrik says, with tone of one who takes his job extremely seriously. "I'll bear your sentiments to Pennings, and she'll see that we're dealt with accordingly. And I thank you for your offer, Your Grace, but I have no need of a carriage. Natalyah will have an easier time picking up my scent without." He stands up.
Joelle and Penny reluctantly let go of him, though Penny wears a concerned frown. Joelle bows his head to Avrenne, and there is a slump of shame in his shoulders that will probably follow him home. "Sorry," he says, and that is all.
Avrenne gives Joelle a gracious nod. "Your apology is appreciated." But Lathrik is not yet dismissed. "Mr. Dinnsfield, do be reasonable. Miss Kensington-Whit is by all accounts an intelligent woman. But unless you gave her any indication that you would be summoned here by a warlock, she has no reason to come looking for you here, and no worgen could catch the scent of something through the Twisting Nether. You will reach her back in the city far more quickly by carriage, and put her at ease the faster for it. And if she does for whatever reason think to come here, she is smart enough to go by the roads, and you will meet her all the same, but without worrying her further by being half frozen from the cold."
Lathrik sighs and returns to his seat. "Forgive my saying, Your Grace, but I can see why you're both feared and respected," he says. "A carriage will do, if ye please."
Avrenne gives Lathrik a small smile at the compliment, but she is magnanimous in victory. She turns her head just slightly and says, "Finley."
Finley comes to attention so quickly that his relief at having Something To Do is obvious, as he ditches his teacup onto Shine's desk and nods sharply to Avrenne. There's something more of a servant than a gentleman in his manner as he holds out an arm to direct Lathrik towards the door and the freedom of action and a Job to do, thank the Light. "If you'll follow me, Mr. Dinnsfield, I'll see you squared away."
Or rectangled away, as it were.
Lathrik nods and rises again. "Aye. Appreciated. Apologies for all the trouble." He bows formally, pats Joelle on the shoulder, and leaves the room.
Avrenne sips her tea, maintaining the air of someone having a very normal evening social visit.
Shine slides Finley's teacup back so that he can lean on the desk beside Lena. He studies Joelle.
Joelle has his gaze fixed on the floor, and does not look up. He is silent, but that's usual for him.
Tabiana lingers by the doorway (she was there the entire time), watching him with some level of sympathy.
Othelia offers Joelle a smile that he probably doesn't see, and tries to strike up a conversation. "You are a friend of Ren's?" she asks.
Joelle nods once.
"It's wonderful to see he has such close companions."
Joelle nods again.
Othelia picks up her teacup, seeming to decide that maybe this isn't the best time to talk to the poor lad.
Or perhaps not about Reniya. Avrenne studies Joelle again, as if she has just placed the oddity of his manner of dress into context. "Do correct me if I'm mistaken, but are you the Mr. Joelle Ebek recently cast as the lead in Count Amerith's upcoming winter play, 'The Briarthorn Witch'? Any relation to Mr. Johann Ebek?"
The woman has a mind like a ledger and a steel trap all in one, especially for the military, and now for anyone within five feet of Count Lester Amerith.
There is a long silence, during which one might wonder if Joelle actually heard her. But eventually he does answer, with a single nod and the word, "Yes."
"May I ask what the relation is?" Avrenne says, undaunted by single word answers.
"My father," Joelle says quietly.
"I hope he is doing well," Avrenne says courteously, but in a way that does not require Joelle to answer. "I have heard interesting things about Count Amerith's play. I believe we will attend it when it opens. Count Amerith does many things, but few of them without a purpose for something he finds interesting. I am looking forward to seeing what it is about."
The play… or Lester Amerith's interest? Both, probably.
"May I ask if you have had an interest in the stage before, Mr. Ebek?"
Joelle shakes his head. "No. Ilanya said it might…" Whatever thought comes next seems to hurt him, and he stops talking.
Avrenne is not unkind, and not one to press a man in pain. If he were closer and in tears, he would likely be getting his hair petted and crying on her shoulder. But he is on the other couch, and so Avrenne makes do. "I see. Would you care for a biscuit, Mr. Ebek?" She means the cookies.
Joelle finally lifts his gaze from the floor, but it seems only to be for the purpose of attempting to gauge her thoughts. "Yes, please," he says.
Good luck, Joelle. The woman is made of cool, composed ice, her thoughts and feelings veiled behind an observant, analytical mind. She sets her tea down and arranges three of the cookies in a neat, nearly perfectly mathmatically equally spaced row upon an extra saucer, and holds it out to Joelle, one hand on her belly. "It's always best after a shock to have something to eat," she tells him, in a motherly tone.
Joelle considers the cookies and her words. He takes two cookies from the saucer, and offers the last one back to Avrenne. He doesn't say anything, letting her last words speak for him.
Avrenne has eaten four (4) cookies already, because she is — as mentioned — extremely pregnant and at the stage of being both constantly hungry and constantly unable to eat significant amounts per meal. But she takes this third cookie in stride, in the spirit of cooperation and showing fellowship and not just because she's already hungry again for a fifth cookie and could eat the rest of the plate honestly. Ahem. No. She is a Serious Duchess. She sets the cookie plate onto her belly and resumes sipping at her tea, nibbling on a cookie.
Shine, who is half-leaning, half-seated on the desk's edge nearest the door, straightens almost imperceptibly and flicks a glance toward it.
A moment later, as if summoned by the glance, the Vice Admiral appears in the doorway. His clothes and hair are still rumpled-disheveled but his black gaze is stern and cold, no trace of the customary glint of humor, and he looks every inch an officer.
"Your Grace," he greets his wife. "Two guest rooms?"
Lena rises when the Vice Admiral enters the room, ready for the next orders. Just in case we're still in crisis, of course.
Avrenne's expression lights up a noticeable amount, even if she attempts to control it, at the sight of Siamus, but she neither rises nor gives any other indication of feeling. "Vice Admiral. Assuming a brief visit and a desirable close proximity, the Botany and the Bird Room are both available at present, and both directly to the east side of your office," she reports in that crisp way of hers.
"Thank ye kindly." Siamus nods courteously to her and then sweeps the room with an assessing look. He may be noting the general lack of Emotion Happening Loudly, because he casts Avrenne another look and nod. Then his gaze moves back to settle on Joelle. He considers the hunched guardsman in his costume armor for a moment. "Joelle," he says. "Elle. Will ye come with me, please?"
Joelle stands as ordered, and with a glance at Avrenne, he follows Siamus.
Othelia thankfully has a mouthful of cookie and can't start a barrage of questions.
Tabiana and Penny both manage to bear with the continued suspense and remain quiet, though Penny's worried frown returns.
Jeremin seems focused on keeping his wife comfortable.
Lena settles back down in her chair as Siamus and Joelle leave, looking up at Shine with a faint smile. She might have noticed his own straightening up.
"Shine," says Siamus, with a jerk of his head as he steps out into the hallway with Joelle.
Shine glances up from returning Lena's smile, rises from the desk's edge and sets his teacup on the desk, and follows the pair into the hall.
Siamus leads Joelle and Shine both toward the stairs. At the head of the staircase he stops and turns to Shine. "Ye may go back in there and tell them all that Hartrim is perfectly well but exhausted, he's sleeping comfortably but still needs debriefing when he wakes as I didn't want to trouble a weary man with too many questions, and that everyone will see him for themselves tomorrow."
Shine raises his eyebrow. "Ye didn't want to tell them that yourself?"
"No," says Siamus. "Because I'm not in a mood to be troubled by too many questions, and you can tell them truthfully that's all ye know."
Shine nods once, suppressing a faint, cynical smile, and turns to stroll back into the room. "Hartrim's perfectly well," he announces mildly, and picks up his teacup again before settling back on the desk's edge by Lena. "But he's exhausted. He's sleeping comfortably now and Fallon doesn't think it wise to trouble his rest wi' questions, but everyone will see him for themselves tomorrow when he's rested."
In the hall, Siamus turns back to Joelle, gives him another assessing look, and then indicates with another tilt of his head that Joelle should keep following him. He heads down the stairs.
In the room, Othelia's expression shifts to mild despair. "Oh, my poor Ren. Couldn't I at least tuck him in?"
"He's a man grown, he doesn't need tucking," Jeremin says.
"How do you know? You've never done it, and seen his face as he settles into bed and knows he's safe!" Othelia escalates in volume.
Penny starts to look a bit embarrassed.
"He's safe here, ma'am," Lena says gently. "This is a safe place, and I'm sure he knows it."
Othelia sniffles, her eyes starting to fill. "But I'm his mother," she wails. Jeremin's hand on her shoulder is the only thing keeping her from rising and attempting to flee the room.
"I understand, ma'am," says Shine gently. "My own mother would be in just the same state, aye? But I can tell ye from my own experience as a military man that your son himself will feel better for a good night's rest and no fuss, and he'll be glad to reassure ye himself in the morning when he's not asleep on his feet straight off a mission. The best thing we can give the man at the moment is a bit of peace to collect himself."
Whether Ren will in fact be glad to reassure his mother is a question best left to Ren himself tomorrow.
"Do be reasonable, Mrs. Hartrim," Avrenne says, and there's an oddly Motherly Tone to her voice, the warning kind, as when a child has begun to think that raising their voice in tantrum will get them what they want. "Your son is a soldier, and he has done his proper job, and therefore deserves a proper rest. As his mother, you should be providing him the best support he can have, which has been already outlined for you by the Vice Admiral, who has decades of experience with the wounded and military operations, and expertise in these matters, which you do not." In this house, the Vice Admiral can only be Right, Mrs. Hartrim. "Your son's care is of utmost importance. If the Vice Admiral thought that it could or would be improved by more people in his room, to say anything of tucking your son in, he would have advised you thusly.
"If you want to see your son well, then you will take the rest of the night to sleep properly, and greet him tomorrow in a calmer state," Avrenne continues, as she begins the laborious task of rising to her feet. Heave, ho! She does not address whether or not Mrs. Hartrim has a calm state, only the existence of a relative one. She looks down at Mrs. Hartrim, the momentary difference in their heights lending Avrenne the sense of even greater height than her personality glamour ordinarily gives her. "That is your duty, as his mother, to be your best possible self so that he is not troubled further and may focus his attention on his own healing. There is nothing more you can learn tonight, and you have already been assured of the most critical, that your son is well. I suggest that you and your husband and daughter return to your rooms and retire for the evening, for Mr. Reniya Hartrim's health."
The verbal trap laid so, Avrenne raises her brows expectantly at the Hartrims.
"I never wanted him to become a soldier," Othelia sobs, though her volume has notably decreased. "He should be safe at home with me!"
Penny stands up, moving to her mother's side to console her. She sends an apologetic look to Avrenne. "Sorry, Your Grace. We can take it from here. She'll calm down eventually, and we'll try to stay quiet."
Avrenne spares Penny a glance, and focuses her attention back on Othelia. "You should be proud of your son, Mrs. Hartrim. Our children are not mere extensions of our wants to be fulfilled. They will go their own ways, and it is our duty to support and love them in their ways, not to wish they were someone other than who they became. We all want our children safe, but it should never be at the cost of stifling all that they are, or have chosen. Your son is a brave man. Any mother should honor that.
"And if I may point out the obvious, despite the danger he was in, he is now currently safe, and in the same house as yourself, something I have been given to understand is not the usual. You might consider that your wishes for his safety, in your close proximity, have been fulfilled," Avrenne says. "Do be sure to rest tonight."
Othelia continues to sniffle, but at least she isn't wailing anymore.
Penny smiles at Avrenne. "Thank you for looking out for my brother, Your Grace," she says.
Jeremin circles the couch to help his wife to her feet. They are retiring to their room now, his demeanor suggests.
"Of course," Avrenne says to Penny. "He will be cared for as diligently and with no expense spared as any member of House Fallon." She sweeps through the room as if she was dressed in the finest of gowns, fit to see the king, rather than her robe. "I will see you all tomorrow, after Mr. Hartrim has woken and is ready for visitors."
If there is something of a Suggestion there that they not be the ones to wake Reniya, but let him wake up on his own, it's not really a real suggestion.
She gives Shine and Lena a combined room area nod. "Thank you for the use of your rooms tonight, Shine, and for your timely summoning, Miss Coit. Good night." With that, she exits with no explanation as to where she may be going. She doesn't have to tell people. She's a Duchess. I do though, because otherwise there's just a rogue duchess wandering the house, whereabouts unknown: Avrenne heads downstairs to Siamus' bedroom to await his return, so that she can get the fuller story of what has given Siamus that Look in his eyes. Her hands, clasped together, stand ready for hair pets.
"I suppose that's everything settled, then?" Lena asks, looking to the others remaining in the room, beginning their various departures. "If I'm needed for anything further, I hope you all know where to find me."
"I believe," says Shine dryly, rising again to a stand, "that the Duchess has addressed the matter, aye."
"Likewise Miss Coit, and I thank you for your assistance in this matter," Tabiana says, bowing her head. "Reniya is important to many of us here." She nods her thanks to Shine as well. "Mr. and Mrs. Hartrim, it would be my honor to guide you back to your rooms."
Jeremin inclines his head to Tabiana, and the three of them, followed by Penny, exit the room to return to their own.
Shine smiles faintly, politely at Tabiana and the Hartrims, and lifts a hand to rest it lightly on Lena's back as the group shuffles past.
"Reckon I know a fair few more in this whole situation now," Lena murmurs, likely too quiet for anyone but Shine to hear. "Hope they all come through whatever this is alright."
"They will," Shine says. "It will all come out all right." There is nothing especially reassuring in his tone; it has the crisp, official sound of someone who is very used to telling people in Siamus Fallon's general environs that everything is going to be just fine, there's nothing to worry about, nothing to see here, folks.