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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Remembrance Day provides an opportunity for Cressidha to introduce her suitor, Silvestre Silentstep, to her parents. 3700~ words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Chain: Cressil
The tide of nobles and honored guests begin the slow flow of movement out of the palace. The traffic jam is extreme, at least until they escape the building, and those who left weapons with the guards outside will have to pick them up again, further stalling the process.
Cressidha is dressed in a long cobalt-blue gown with a white sash and shawl reminiscent of Cobalt Company's winged logo. The 'wings' of the shawl, trailing white streamers, are not quite long enough to step on, but they drift behind her as she walks. "Father," she says to him, her eyes scanning the crowd. "I was hoping to introduce you to Silvestre." This, however, necessitates finding Sil - or Sil finding them first.
"Ah," William says, smiling at Cressidha, no longer any sign of strain now that there isn't any threat of violence in the keep (as far as he knows, anyway). "And your mother and I have been hoping to get to meet the young man. This might be a bit of a challenge though, right now. I've already lost sight of your mother in the blue sea." The blue sea is the moving crowd of nobles and guests all dressed in generally similar colors. He chuckles at his own joke. "But if we can spot your young man, he can hop over with us to the mage tower. He's not wearing bright orange, or a conveniently large and very tall feather in his hair by any chance?"
There is, in fact, a noblewoman wearing just such a hair ornament — an enormous, white ostrich feather gathered up around her dark black curls that bobs around an entire foot above her head, swaying with her movement as she tiptoes along with the crowd.
"I'm afraid not," Cressidha says, smiling. "But he will be here, I'm certain of it. It might be easier to find him after the speeches." As they reach the hall that leads to the palace gardens, Cressidha makes a sharp right turn out of the press of people, walking at a pace suitable for her father down that hall until it opens up into the gardens themselves. She produces a portal stone. "Do you want to sit for a little while, or shall we go?" she asks. The garden does have benches.
William waves his free hand in the air as if to dispel the concern for him. "Let's carry on. If I sit now, my knees will start up a whole heated debate about staying seated, and I think there's been quite enough tension in the keep for the time being, hm?"
"Very well." Cressidha flicks the portal stone up into the air, where it cracks open to reveal the inside of the mage tower.
One Very Dramatic King Speech Later
William has given good nobleman in reaction to the unusual, but impassioned speech by the king. Like many, there's a part of him that remains concerned afterwards, even though he has been reassured by the appearance that ultimately, all is well — for now, at least. He is even more so when he sees his son and son-in-law moving to help. He leans more heavily on his cane, and hums thoughtfully. "Your mother's not likely to be done with the niceties for at least a little while," he says to his daughter. "You have a little time to go find your young man, and maybe even get a sweet treat to boot."
William isn't wrong — Clara is unhurriedly speaking to the various House members and dignitaries, having assured herself personally that King Varian is well, and that he does not require anything further. She gives a gracious nod of approval to Mordecai and Colson for their efforts, and turns to politics as is appropriate for her station and position.
"I'll see what I can do. I'll meet you by that tree, there?" Cressidha gestures to one of the trees west of the statue of Turalyon, which has low bench-like seating available around it.
"Be careful in the crowd," Williams says to his nearly thirty-year-old daughter, somewhat ruefully, but also with the privilege of a father who hasn't stopped fathering his kids, and won't no matter how old they get. "Emotions will be running high after all that excitement and speech rousing." He waves her off though. "Go on, find your young man. Your old man will be fine."
Cressidha gives her father a careful hug. "Of course." She begins to weave through the crowd, looking for Sil. This is step one. Hopefully she will not need to break out step two, the flying carpet.
She will not. Sil is not wearing bright orange or feathers, but he is wearing a dark burgundy suit that draws the eye in a little in a crowd of blue. He is also possibly more visible because he is helping a young man with crutches make his way through the bustle. The man, who couldn't be more than twenty, is in his Alliance army uniform, but one leg of it is pinned just below the knee.
Sil helps the young man get to a bench to rest near the entrance of Stormwind, and then appears to be taking his leave.
"Silvestre," Cressidha calls once she gets a little closer. She raises a hand in a wave, the streamers of her shawl fluttering behind her.
Sil smiles at the guy, saying something that sounds like a farewell, and then turns towards the sound of Cressidha's voice. His expression brightens, and he raises a hand in greeting as he walks toward her. "Cressidha! I saw you there at the Keep, but then I lost you in the crowd after."
"Remember Well," Cressidha says, because those are the holiday rules. "It was so crowded in there that it made me quite nervous, I admit - and on the stage as well. Any time Stormwind's highest authorities are all in one place… the ideal time for Deathwing or his cultists to strike."
"Ah, right, Remember Well," Sil says with a quick flash of a smile. "And yeah, made me nervous, too. Glad we seem to have all gotten through it safely this time. Though, not completely. Did you hear anything yet about what happened with the king?"
"No," Cressidha says. "Did you?"
Sil shakes his head. "Maybe some kind of attack? If he hadn't handled it, though, he would've said something, right? So it should be safe now."
"I suppose," Cressidha says, unconvinced. "I still feel… uneasy about it all." She moves closer. "I was hoping to introduce you to my parents today, once Mother is done with the usual."
"Oh!" Sil straightens a little, taking a hand to re-tidy his necktie. "I would love to meet them. And… maybe she'll be better able to tell us if we should be uneasy? The speech seemed pretty optimistic, at least."
"Well, clearly the king got in a fight," Cressidha says, and shrugs. "And came to make his speech without bothering to clean up beforehand. What did you think of it? His Majesty's speech."
"It was more positive than many things I've heard him say recently," Sil says carefully. "I liked the bit about the future leaders being healers, and finding a way to peace. It was… not very much like what he said in the reception. What did you think?"
"If he truly meant it, then it was a lovely speech, I think," Cressidha says. "Difficult to live up to, of course, but most speeches are."
Sil nods. "It is always harder to do than to say. We'll see with time, then, if this marks a true intended change. I hope so." He pauses, glancing over in the direction of the stage. "Do we need to head that way, to meet your parents? Or are they already somewhere else?"
"Father's waiting by the tree there," Cressidha says, pointing to the tree in question. "We simply have to… get to him. And wait for Mother."
"I see," Sil says, drawing in a deep breath. He offers Cressidha his arm. "Are you ready? I hope I'm ready."
Cressidha takes his arm. "Of course. My parents are lovely people, both of them. You have nothing to fear."
Sil strides towards the tree and Cressidha's father, taking care not to rush her natural walking pace.
Cressidha has mastered the art of walking like she has a destination and will walk directly into whoever does not get out of her way. People do clear a path for her.
Sil tries to match her poise, and he does a pretty decent mimic, even if he hasn't mastered the art. Anyway, people get out of her way, and he's with her, so it works out. It is not long before they reach their destination.
Clara Aspenwood, who carried the gene for this Aspenwood Walk, is using it only because this is the way she walks everywhere; she is not in any hurry, however, as she makes her way dutifully through her obligations. She has noted her husband's location, and some of her children's, although not with the same skill as her fellow duchess, Avrenne Esprit Fallon.
William, carefully watching for Cressidha, and a young man with her, spots them as they start making their way through the crowd, and he waves genially at them, and looks over at his wife, some communication passing between them across even this long distance.
Clara wraps a conversation up politely, but firmly, and starts her way to William — the path before her opening up as if it had just been waiting for her to touch the air lightly. She is not rushing however, because a duchess rushing anywhere in this crowd could cause a stir, and it would be inappropriate for a woman of her station.
So it is that William is the only parent currently there by the time Cressidha and Silvestre arrive, and he pushes himself up to a stand, his knees creaking a little, but his smile affable and his eyes lit by a cordial excitement. "Ah, there we are. Escaped the dreaded crowd beast after all, hm? Your mother's almost slain her side of it."
Sil smiles cordially back at William, but he doesn't speak yet. He will wait for an introduction.
Cressidha smiles as well. "It seems we've made it. Father, this is Silvestre Silentstep. Silvestre, this is my father, Duke William Aspenwood."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Sil says politely, with a little bow.
William gives Sil a quick bow back, correct for their respective ranks, but he doesn't linger in the nobles formality, as he takes a step in closer, holding out his hand for a genial shake. "It's good to meet you," he says, and he both sounds and looks as though he means it, his face not at all difficult to read. "Would you like me to call you 'Mr. Silentstep,' or do you prefer Silvestre? You can call me what you're comfortable with, and that includes just 'William,' if you like. 'Lord Aspenwood' can get a bit stuffy for a young man, especially when we might someday be family, hm?"
Sil accepts the handshake, his smile warming with the other man's clear friendliness.
"As you like, sir, either Mr. Silentstep or Sil - a lot of people call me Sil," he offers, taking Silvestre quietly off the table. That one is Cressidha's. "I wouldn't want to presume, but I'd be happy to dispense with formality, if you are."
Cressidha smiles and nods encouragingly.
William glances from Sil to Cressidha and back, and he looks as pleased as punch for some reason, blue eyes twinkling. "Aha, Sil it is then. And for me, you can always do both. William amongst just us, and whatever you think is best elsewhere." He starts to say something more, but his attention is pulled off Sil, as his wife comes better into view. He holds out his hand for her, although he stays put where he is, less pressure on having to walk back and forth on his leg.
"And here she is, my beautiful wife, the light of my heart," Williams says, with an easy to hear love and affection. "Darling, this is Cressidha's young man, Silvestre 'Sil' Silentstep."
Clara Aspenwood steps to her husband's side, accepting his hand to tuck them both into a graceful escort. She inclines her head politely to Sil, in a gesture likely very familiar to him, for the precise way that Colson does the same. "It is good to meet you," she says, the flatter tone another echo he's heard in Cressidha's own neutral way of speaking. "Remember well."
"Remember well, Lady Aspenwood," Sil says, with the appropriate bow for a woman of her station. The warmth of his smile remains, and there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he catches the mannerisms of Colson and Cressidha in the manner of their mother. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Cressidha looks at her parents, pleased. "I hope you will all get along," she says.
"Oh, I'm sure we will," William says, with a kindly, conspiratorial smile that encompasses first Cressidha, and then Sil. "We couldn't dislike anyone that Cressidha liked well."
"I apologize on behalf of the House of Nobles for the chaos of today's event. I hope it has not negatively impacted your ability to enjoy the day," Clara remarks, her expression neutral, but a familiar one.
Cressidha sighs. "It certainly wasn't your fault, Mother," she says. "Sir Ference did an excellent job, talking about the individuals behind the statues…"
"I'm sure some people were really interested in the Field Marshal's speech as well," Sil says with a bright smile. "Sometimes things happen and no one could predict… the King is alright, though, isn't he? And the prince?"
"Yes, there is nothing to be concerned about now. Thank you for your concern. His Majesty and His Highness are being taken care of at the Keep," Clara says, with the authority of someone keeping a peace. "We do not anticipate any further disruptions to this hallowed celebration of remembrance."
"Did you two have any plans for today?" William asks. "Even ones you might have just made a few minutes ago?"
"We… did not." Cressidha admits. "I believe I've experienced enough fireworks to last me a few lifetimes, and I am uncertain what else is worthwhile."
"Ah, the fireworks," William says and although he is an old man and has an actual cane to shake, he doesn't, but his disapproval is evident all the same.
"William," Clara cautions.
"I know, I know," William grumbles, patting his wife's hand the way Sil has seen the twins pat at each other's from time to time. "I'll not get it going again. I know you agree, darling, and there's nothing more the House can do about it. The permits, the engineering guilds, and all that." He looks like he might get it going again all the same.
"There were people who applied for permits for selling streamers and pennants, as well as costumes for favorite heroes," Clara informs the duo. "You might find something interesting in the designs of how they have made appearances of armor out of cloth and other materials that are not true metals. You could also compare the designs to the reality that you know of those who survived beyond the Dark Portal."
"Oh, that does sound interesting," Sil perks up. "We got to meet the Sons of Lothar when we went through, or at least some of them. And I'm not sure how you'd make a cloth look like a metal. Have you ever done so, Cressidha?"
"Fabric paint, mostly," Cressidha explains. "I have, yes. We could go look around, yes. Thank you for the suggestion, Mother."
"Of course," Clara says. If she's judging the cosplayers on their accuracy — and often their inaccuracy — it doesn't show easily. Even though the statues are right there, in armor, and there are people who could have been consulted for full accuracy. It's fine.
"Do you have any particular hobbies, Sil?" William asks. "I know Cobalt Company's generally a commitment, and the worlds have been keeping you busy for a few years of steady work, but it's good to keep up some things just because you like them."
"Cobalt does keep us pretty busy," Sil agrees, and then continues, "There are a few things I've kept up. For one, knife-throwing. Like, trick throwing, not necessarily combat. And I have an interest in plants, though I think I'm not as well-versed in the topic as Colson."
Oh no. There's a particular light up twinkle in William's eyes, the same as Cressidha when she's grown excited about a project, although his smile is wider and more animated. "Oh!" It's the Excited Aspenwood oh. "Plants! A man after my own heart. Colson's had an interest in them since he was a child, always my best helper in the garden. I'm a bit of an amateur botanist myself. Amateur in the sense of the ancient Lordaeron word for 'one who loves.' I have a greenhouse at the Vineyard house. You'll have to come by and see it sometime. What's your field of interest, in particular? Professionally I work in more agronomy, and breeding, for the wine grapes of course. But I dabble in some horticulture, and I've been reading more on the fascinating subject of paleobotany. The Explorers' League has been uncovering remarkable finds since the shake up."
Cressidha smiles proudly. That's her dad right there.
Sil brightens at William's enthusiasm. "I'd love to see the greenhouse. I have some interest in wine grapes - I learned a lot about what goes into wine making and wine as I was growing up. And it might sound a little morbid, but I've an interest in poison plants, phytotoxicology, I guess you'd call it. I've not really heard much before about paleobotany, they study plants that've gone extinct?"
"Exactly, yes! There's plants that must be the historical progenitors of our modern ones, and it's been remarkable," William enthuses. "Phytotoxicology though! What a study. Alchemy's not a field I know much of, but the poisons that plants develop and how they're used is still a fascinating subject. And an interest in wine, you've more than come to the right place. I'd be more than happy to hear your thoughts on some of our vintages, and show you the works of how they're made in our vineyards, and why Aspenwood does what we do. It's the why that might really grab you, if you're familiar with the how wine is made, the interconnectivity of the reactions of the wine grapes to the woods of the barrels, for how these plants interact. Even very small differences between a particular type of oak can influence the flavoring of the wine immensely, and it's one of my favorite ongoing experiments."
Clara's smile is faint, the way her eyes look more like it than her lips, easier perhaps for Sil to read than most others for the same expression Colson makes. "The next time you both have some leisure time, we might make a day of it at the Vineyard."
"I would love that, yes," Sil says, and his smile is not faint, but that is also usual for his expressions. He glances over at Cressidha, gauging her interest. "Maybe sometime after this whole caravan thing we're supposed to see to? I've never been involved in winemaking myself, but I know a fair bit in theory of how the aging in different woods changes the flavor, as well as some of the interesting practices that can be done with the grapes themselves to alter the sort of wine. It's… not really a topic that's come up much, with my work in a mercenary company, as you might imagine."
Cressidha is looking at Sil like she's never seen him before in her life. "Well," she says, "You've picked the correct family."
William gives a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. "So he has! So he has." Punch now aspires to look as pleased as William Aspenwood.
Clara does nothing more than turn her head slightly, a tip of a brow moving fractionally, and William makes an acknowledging noise, and nudges down his enthusiasm meter to somewhere he won't drag Sil off to the wine barrels right now. "Ah, well, you two should enjoy the day. We'll talk wine when you come to visit. Go on, go be young and not at work for a day."
Clara gives the couple a nod. "When you are sure of your schedule, we will be glad to have you at the Vineyard. Thank you for meeting with us today. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance."
"The pleasure is mutual," Sil says sweeping another bow. He turns to Cressidha and offers her his arm. "Shall we investigate the latest trends for armor-like-cloth?"
Cressidha takes Sil's arm. "Very well." She nods courteously to her parents, still smiling, and heads on towards the city proper.
Once they are very obviously out of earshot, William turns a grin to his wife. "Well," he declares with an entire sentence ensconced in the word.
Clara looks at him, a faint smile visible on the edges of her expression. "Yes," she agrees to the unspoken. "Though you must bear in mind, it is new. Your approval matters very much to Cressidha."
"Ah, yes." William fiddles with the internal dial of visible enthusiasm a little more. "Oh, she knows that I'll be happiest when she's happiest with her choice."
"Hm."
"But a wine man, at last!" William says in a loud stage whisper of excitement. Clara's brow raises another fraction. "No, no, you're right. Let her make her choice without thinking of her father," he agrees.
For a moment, the two stand in companionable silence, as Clara gazes up at the statues, and something immaterial falls on her, dampens something.
"Clara, what is — " William starts, and then, that same something falls on him, as he gathers Clara's hand closer to him. "Ah, of course." He sighs, the weight of that pull dragging his years down much heavier on him. "It's the day for it. He would have been so pleased to hear of Cressidha with her young man. He would have — " Tears form in his eyes, and whatever more he starts to say, grief chokes the words.
Clara reaches over with her other hand to pat him softly. "We Remember Well," she says, as she bears the weight with as much grace as she can.
"We remember well," William echoes, looking out to a city that cannot erect a statue for every fallen hero, but remembering close at least one of them with a statue large in his heart, of his son.