Inouv 30, 228: A Stern Talking To

Laetitia lays down the law with Roslin, an occurrence which hasn't happened before. Tyrel comes in too late to soothe the situation.


A Stern Talking To
Summary: Log Summary
OOC Date: 19/12/2013 (OOC)
Related: None
Players:
Laetitia Roslin Tyrel 
Salon
A haven of serenity amidst the rush of the castle, the salon is designed as a place for relaxation or socialization. A hearty fire burns in the massive, marble fireplace, throwing a russet glow across the room. The walls are divided top from bottom with pale wooden paneling above and lapis marble with silver veins shot through it below. Several armchairs, a couch, and a loveseat are set around a beautiful table for an intimate tete-a-tete, the furniture finely made of deep mahogany wood with blue and silver cushions. An azure rug covers the center of the room, but at the edges the dark wood of the floor can be seen. A side table holds tea, coffee, wine and several small hors d'oeuvres, and desserts.
Inouv 30, 228

The Salon today is a refuge, as it most often is for nobles, the fire crackling happily and the scent of spices in the air that have been added to the fire to give a pleasant aroma throughout. The Queen is seated at the loveseat, a book in hand, fingers idly flipping through the pages as she peruses text, her mind elsewhere however rather than on the content of the book. To her ladies that much is obvious, as they knit, today a quiet day as most of them are recovering from a very long evening as the Queen utilized the game room as a means of connecting with folks, all throughout the night, setting certain plans into place and finding that others had to come to fruition. She is dressed in greys and purples, snugging sleeves tight to her arms, ended in braided coils of purple, an empire waist leading to falling skirts, her hair up in intricate curls pinned just so, circlet upon her brow.

—-

Roslin, for her own part, is dressed in another heavy-woven wrap dress with tight sleeves that poof at the shoulders. Her hair is up in an intricate crown of braidsd, and she wears her tiarra and eight-pointed star. Smoothly and almost quietly, she moves to slip into the seat beside her mother and offer the woman a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, Mother," Roslin says cheerily. "What is it you are reading this evening that has you so entirely fascinated?"

—-

A deep inhalation will sound in the air and the Queen will stare at the book a moment longer before allowing it to flop to the side in her hand as she cranes her neck to check out the title, and even that much does not spur much in the way of cognitive remembrance, "I haven't the faintest, to be honest." A soft laugh rises in her throat, the Queen setting the book down upon the table in front of her as she leans forwards, hand then lifting to caress her daughters opposite cheek as she takes the kiss. The Queens lips will purse to return with her own, green eyes sparkling as she settles in to look at her daughter, "You are so pretty, my love." Musingly murmured as she reaches out to touch that eight-pointed star with light fingertips.

—-

"I imagined not. I often make my own studies, and I know when they are earnest and when they are not. Yours, alas, were not terribly earnest." She smiles, looking down at the necklace as her mother touches it, then back up. "Thank you, Mother. That is very kind to say. Tyrel tells me I look like a little boy. If there is any beauty in me, there is no doubt in all the realm where I have aquired it." She looks idly around the room a moment, nodding to her maid. Mulled wine - it's always what Roslin wants, during the winter. "I daresay seeing you out gives people great comfort, what with Father having secluded himself so greatly of late." Worry crosses Roslin's features.

—-

"Well, we are both in the midst of many great things Roslin." The Queen will say softly, having laughed at what her brother said of her, a finger coming up to lightly tap her daughters nose, "You do /not/ look a boy." Said with amusement, the Queen sitting up a little more, shifting to get comfortable, "Your father needs opportunity to concentrate and do as he needs without interruption, though one can be sure he will not stay a recluse for long, that much I can promise you." Said solemnly, the Queen also gesturing for drink to be brought to her, a light lift of her hand and a dance of fingers enough to indicate what she wishes, "You know how he can be at times, burying himself in things of import without pausing to think of how the court will take it when he hides away."

—-

"I know, Mother," Roslin says, nodding agreeably. She lets that agreement hang in the air a few moments, before speaking up again. "But I also know that he does not make a habit of being this … intentional about it. He loses himself sometimes, it's true. But it's because of the work before him, and how it does not let him see life beyond. This is very much on purpose. And very alarming, I must say." She tilts her head a little. "Mother. I do hope you know that he and you may rely on me for anything at all. I am but young and a girl, but if there is any way I can ease these burdens or direct attention elsewhere on your or his behalf…you need only ask."

—-

That has the Queen looking quite amused, a brow raising, "Oh, are you now. Well, while that is good to know-" Roslin has assured her of much the same times before, the Queen shaking her head, "You do not have to worry yourself with the duties we possess. It is not your time, nor is it to be your concern. You are correct." The Queen will draw up from the couch, reaching out for the goblet of wine she receives from one of her maids, taking this time to stride towards the fire place to look upon the mantle as she sips at the ruby liquid within, "You are young. And you are a girl. A princess. You have your place. Your duties. And it would be wise of you to not tempt to overreach, yes?" A glance over her shoulder, look meaningful, "It would undermine your father and I, if you try to rise up further than your reach. Though you could be of some assistance - Princess Draventa. How oft have you spoken with her?"

—-

Roslin flushes, reaching for her own cup and remaining seated. "I wish nothing of the sort, Mother. You know I do not - everything I do, I do to please you. I only meant to offer help where I can be useful. I am sorry to have overstepped my usefulness." She looks down at the cup and drowns her embaressment in a big sip. "No, Mother. I confess I have not spoken to her. Though I have heard she is rather dull … I can't recall who from. Most of my discussion with the Moniwids has been with Emerit. She I like very much - clever, modest, pretty, altogether just as a lady ought to be. Why do you ask?"

—-

"I find her quite sweet." The Queen will state firmly, lifting up a hand to touch the mantle, running her fingertips over it, wine brought to lips again as she drinks, a step taken away a she glides away, "In fact I have invited the young Princess to private tea with me, I would like you to make friends with her." Turning, back to the fire, the flames silhouetting behind her, the Queen standing there, hip lightly cocked as she faces her daughter, "I have no interest in the other Monowid Princess, but this young Draventa. She is comely, sweet, quiet - respectful. Knows her place, understands her place. Your father and I have an eye for her for Logen now that he is of worth again."

—-

Roslin watches her mother curiously. "If I didn't know better, mother, I would say that I have done something to displease you. As I have done very little this past day, I cannot imagine what it is." She nods at the Queen's words though. "It is hardly surprising. A new match is expected. But will the Grand Duke accept it? I am under the impression he might take it as a slight. He seems a very proud man." The redhead sips her wine again. "And what's more, do we know yet if the match will proceed with Duke Crawford? I have heard that many of the Kundari ships have been lost - and as I understand it from the Duke, ships have been his primary interest in a dowry."

—-

Laetitia says "Then you are reading things that are not there, Roslin." The Queen chides softly, "Unless my bid to have you be friends with a Princess we are looking to set with your brother is something you feel is punishment." A brow lightly lifts, the Queen continuing on her walk, moving to a window now to look out, a curtain lightly pushed back, "We are in discussions, Roslin. Do not worry about the Grand Duke, he will come to see reason." As for Duke Crawford Laetitia will nod deeply, "It will proceed. I spoke with him last eve, all we need is for the King to speak with him and finalize things and the match will be sealed. He is a very dour man, but did say that it was time for happiness to come." Said with a nod, her eyes gazing out, "And he could use happiness with all that has befallen his."

—-

It is fortunate that the Queen has her back to Roslin just then, for the girl looks rather unhappy herself. "Of course, mother. In truth he is most deserving of a woman like the PRincess Nima. I think the match will prove very fruitful." She covers the rest in another sip of wine. "I do not consider it a punishment, simply … well, nevermind. I shall make a point to seek her out. It is such a great shame her sister is a bastard - she would be an excellent match for any man. But then….well, I shall do as you bid, Mother." Roslin does have a way of befriending diplomats, both male and female. She finishes her wine in a bit of a gulp.

—-

"Very fruitful is our hope, he is of the mind to invite everyone out to Sutherland for the celebrations, it's much warmer there this time of year, I think it would do your father a world of good to have a change in climate for some time." The Queen states as she pulls away from the window, tapping her free hand against the window sill lightly in a musical roll, "Well, her sister can not change what she is. Be nice to the Princess, would you? This is a chance for your brother to regain some measure of hope in his future."

—-

"I'm always nice, Mother." Roslin counters, motioning for another wine. "I spoke to him today. Logen, I mean. I suppose I should not have said I am always nice, because I was not particularly today, with him. He has hardly changed at all, and he stank of drink. But at least he spoke to Duke Crawford, and had such maters as needed to be settled, settled." Roslin still doesn't look particularly happy anymore.

—-

Laetitia comes back to sit next to Roslin, an eyebrow raising, "Roslin, to coat your tongue with such fibs …it's most unbecoming." Though the tone she employs is lightly teasing, head shaking, "You have the same temper as your father and I, Roslin, do not profess to something that we both know not to be true. You can be kind, indeed, but your tongue can be sharp." Her goblet is still mostly full, the Queen watching as Roslin gestures for another, "Your brother has suffered a loss - one to our benefit, but a loss all the same. The same loss that Duke Crawford has experienced. It would suit you far more to be kinder to your brother, and help raise him up, than allowing him to flounder while you poke at his flailing corpse." More sternly stated, "Our family needs to be united in the coming days. Not just outwardly."

—-

Roslin takes the cup, but does not endeavor to sip it. She seems to just want something to do with her hands. "I do not mean to bring him down, mother. But I also do not want to give him the opportunity to hurt this family again. He says he is sorry, but he does not show it. I cannot believe he is truly sorry for the hurt he has caused. And when I try to express it to him … he seems to think he is the only one who is hurt. That no one can understand that he is suffering, that no one knows his lot in life. Duke Crawford, on the other hand, has taken his grief and spurred it to action to the glory of his house. What angered me in Logen today was not his grief, but rather everything about him that has gone unchanged."

—-

"My dear." The Queen will begin patiently, "It has taken me a while to reach this point, and I endeavor that you should do the same. But has he not suffered enough for those sins he has wrought?" Asked as she leans forwards to set down her glass, drawing back to settle hands neatly into her lap, fingertips lightly lacing, "He has admitted much to me, but without our support, our love, how do you ever expect him to be able to change." The question set to Roslin as the Queen furrows her brow slightly, the woman not a fan of frowning; wrinkles. Much better to harbour smile lines than lines that speak of a life not happily lived, "He will continue to hurt the family if we are not rallying behind him to help him out of his current state. You need to let go of your anger. I can not abide this any longer. He will be married, and it will be our effort that will determine whether that means we are restored, or if he continues to rot at our core."

—-

"I do not hold my anger because I enjoy it, Mother." Roslin argues back. She turns the glass slowly in her hand. "I hold it because he still does not - will not - offer any way for me to release it. I try to express to him how all of this has made me feel, you feel, father feel, Tyrel feel - all of us. What he has done. And he will not understand. He cannot understand how he has hurt us. So why should I allow him to do it again, when he clearly has no desire to behave? I have maintained, from the beginning, if only he will show remorse for what he has done to others instead of weeping for himself, that I may give him all the forgiveness I have. But he is proud - proud, Mother! Proud of his sins, the sins the Gods have punished him for. Why must we always make sacrifices for him, when he will not even be sad for us?"

"Well you do enjoy it, or you'd sluff it off, and act a proper Princess and give your brother his due for suffering under our cold stares and empty gestures for as long as he has." Very sternly stated, "It is also not your place to communicate anyone's feelings other than your own to anyone, regardless of your intentions. You do not speak for me, you do not speak for your father, and the ill will that your brother has brought upon us has to be moved on from so that we may move forward as a family." An exasperated sigh, the Queen reaching out to touch her daughters forearm, "You are just as proud as your brother. It is a state that I find most enraging. I will speak to your priestess about how we may cull this in you, for you know not of the way of forgiveness if it comes with such terms." As for the last, "He is your /brother/, of Kilgour Blood, that is why you must stop this pettiness."

—-

"Do you not think I would if I could, mother?" Roslin argues, her cheeks flushing bright red. "I will speak only of my feelings, then, if you do not wish I should defend yours or Father's. I trusted him. I was hurt. I am still hurt. And I do not understand why I must forgive him for everything when he has not made even the slightest motion toward me to do the same. I did not bear him, Mother. I do not believe that I must forgive him all his transgressions when he is so intent to see them repeated." She sets her cup down with a thud on the table beside the sofa upon which they sit. "I have spoken to Blessed Luna. I have tried to forgive him. But in my heart I cannot, unless he seeks it. Why, before she died, I even made attempts to make peace with his wife, that perhaps he may come to see me not as his enemy. And even that does not move him!" At least she keeps her voice quiet - the Princess knows not to start undue gossip.

—-

Tyrel steps into the salon followed by his guards. A number of aides trail along behind, "Enough, take that which is left and see it delivered to my rooms, I will review them after I've had a moment. I…" He pauses as the cup thuds on the table glancing over, "Go." He gestures to the aides then moves to take a seat near to the fireplace.

—-

Rising up from the couch in frustration the Queen will stride to the fireplace once more, leaning a hand against it as she draws her gaze down from the fire, stilling her tongue for the time being as her own temper begins to rise. Children. If they were not so useful …such thoughts are why she holds her tongue, allowing Roslin to have her say, the Queens body tense, free hand drawing to her hip where she will stand. An audible inward draw of air, the Queen about to say something though Tyrel is suddenly there, the Queen in the midst of this conversation having missed his entrance. Straightening up she will give him a heated look, not meant for him of course, as it's soon swept towards Roslin, "You would do it so /my/ heart and your fathers heart do not /bear/ this heart ache you /both/ insist in delivering upon us." Hissed out lowly, the Queen also mindful of ears and eyes that may be about. Her shoulders are drawn back, most regal stricken look upon her features, "I can not /continue/ to bear the hatred in our house." The cords in her neck tighten as she raises up her chin, the Queen sorely wishing to tell her daughter they have other people to direct their energies towards, "Tyrel." A minute nod, her arm raising up with an imploring hand raised to her son, "Kiss your mother." Yes, greet her in the manner she so wishes.

—-

Roslin's mouth falls agape - a very unPrincessly look, that is. "Me? I have wronged you? Everything I have done since I could walk I have done to please you! And you chide me as though I were … him?" Roslin is incredulous, and hurt - incredibly hurt, it is written all over her face. She rises, her hands shaking, as her brother approaches. "Speak with her, Tyrel. I have broken her heart - been like a whore to her." She spits the word, and even saying it is enough to bring a flush to her face. "Someone, at least, should make her happy. For I am as much a failure as the rest." And, in true teenaged fashion, the Princess moves to sulk out of the room. At least she does not slam any doors, though her maid and guards move to follow her quickly, wishing very much to be apart from this family feud.

—-

Tyrel looks between the his mother and sister, "Of course, Mother." He then leans in to kiss his mother's cheek. He offers to his sister once he's kissed his mother, "Roslin, stay a moment and grant me a dance. I've a need to spend some energy and no-one I wish to hit hard enough to do so, but I think a dance with you is near enough to combat to serve. Mother, if you'd care to dance as well it would help to sooth my bruised feet after dancing with Roslin."

—-

Tyrel rests his hand on his waist curling his fingers into the light chain and leather he wears as he turns to extend his hand towards Roslin seeking to stop her departure.

—-

Laetitia takes the kiss with a furtive look towards Roslin as she in that annoying habit of all teenagers (and some adults!) moves to leave. Oh no, the Queen will bite any further words back, she knows from many ..many times with her other daughter there is no hope in reasoning with them at that age. Oh but the Queens own feelings are clear for but a flash before in true fashion of her bearing she smoothes her features to one of serenity, chin lifting as she draws away from her son, drifting to take the chair he was soon to occupy, sitting with a stiff smile as she gives a nod to Winifred, the only lady who has remained, the others flocking out at a word from the Lady Winifred who is most wise, "Wine." Murmured as she grips the arm of the chair tightly. Dance? Oh, "My pleasure in such has suddenly left me, sweet son, perhaps the chill of this winter has finally claimed my bones." Cooly exhaled out, the Queen taking some warmth from the fire.

—-

Roslin aptly moves around her brother. "I'd best not, lest I spoil you with my wickedness. Dance with Logen, he is purer than I." She spits out, her lower lip trembling as she moves to leave the Salon and no doubt quickly make her way to some private place that such girls have for such times as these.

—-

Tyrel shifts his hand from his hip to the front of his belt, shifting the buckle then straightening his doublet. He drops his other hand to his side and bows slightly to Roslin, "As you wish, sister, though I am not prone spoiling. When you have regained your composure I should like to present you to the Master of Laws, do seek to restore yourself quickly." He then turns to Laetitia, "Mother, I hope this chill you've taken does not last long, if there is anything you should like past the wine do let me know."

—-

Laetitia continues to sit stiffly, watching as Roslin storms out, her wine brought to her along with a softly murmured word, the Queen allowing but a momentary purse of her lips, "When have you last spoken to your brother Logen." The Queen will ask, looking up to her son as her goblet raised to her lips.

—-

Tyrel considers for a few moments, "At length, some weeks. We've spoken in passing, of course, but it has been some time since we've sat down to a game of chess." He seats himself, "Was there some matter you should wish I address with him?"

—-

Laetitia lifts a hand to run the knuckles of her left hand against her jawline gently, fingers curling up to cushion against her lips as she looks pensively towards the fire, her elbow resting in heavily against the arm of the chair as she brings her wine close to her chest, "Tell me of your thoughts regarding him. Am I so blind to hope in him as your sister is wont to do?"

—-

Tyrel sets his elbows on the arm rest of his chair, he presses his finger together as he gives a few moments consideration. "My thoughts on Logen. He is an intelligent man, a capable fighter, and a defensive genius. He is too often driven by his passions and those passions have caused him to lose the confidence of those he leads. He has shown signs of mastering those impulses though the death of his lady wife may cause some disturbence from him."

—-

Laetitia worries at her lip as she gives it a light tug, nodding her head as she listens. A brief silence from her before her head is turning gaze from fire so she can sip from her goblet, settling her gaze upon her son, "I wish for you to see to him more often, bring him along on duties, keep his mind busy. I have asked Lord Trevian Forrester to befriend him as he is of stout character, with a hope to bring Logen out of his pit. We are in talks for an alliance with him as our piece, we need to start rallying behind him so that he regains not only the confidence of those he leads, but his own as well."

—-

Tyrel nods, "Of course, mother, I will see he is kept occupied, and make time for him more often." He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again, "I will go and see him."

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