Thedor 28, 229: No More Reports!

No More Reports!
Summary: Another confrontation between Draventa and Emerit leads to the latter issuing a possibly overdue order to the former's handmaiden and chaperone.
OOC Date: 28/01/2014 (OOC)
Related: Recent logs regarding the betrothal, especially Fractured Glass and Flipped Tables and Two Months.
Players:
Draventa Emerit 
Moniwid Suite
The first thing usually noticed about this room is the sense of openness, as it is not laden with heavy furniture. The floor is a soft grey marble. One wall features a huge window, taking up almost the whole wall and showing a lovely view of the horizon. To the right of the window, there is a stone fireplace decorated with amber and some old carvings. There is an incredibly cozy couch in front of the fireplace, in a dark brown cotton type material.
In the middle of the room, there is a burnished oaken long table with eight matching chairs. There are eight crystal place settings ready for use. A wild flower centerpiece has been placed on the table as decoration. The floor of the dining area has been covered with the prey of some hunter in the form of a brown bear fur rug.
There is a smaller wooden door, leading to the Grand Duke's Room, on the left wall of the room . On both sides of the door, small candles are available to provide light when it is dark. There are also candle sconces on the other walls and a candelabra on the table. Above the fireplace, the prey of some other hunters resides: two deer heads with beautiful antlers can be found, one to each side. Between the deer, the edges of two sharp, crossed swords glint.
28th day of Thedor, 229

Draventa's sitting curled up, staring at the fire. She's not even trying to pretend that she's doing anything but that. Both maids are sitting doing needle work, although Alice keeps glancing up to watch Drav. Drav is snuggled up, her feet pulled underneath her. She's dressed in a a pretty winter dress, with heavy embroidery of snakes around the edges.

The door to Emerit's room opens, and the fiery haired Moniwid princess enters. Her dress a dark blue with snowflakes embroidered onto it, her feet are covered with slippers in the same colour. Her moss green eyes soon come to linger on Draventa, and the bastard princess sighs softly, as she moves over to her sister to the fireplace. "Sister.", she will greet, lowering her gaze. "How are you today?" Behind her Yulanda will enter, she has obviously helped Emerit to change for the afternoon tea. The handmaiden will move over towards Alice and Lorraine and engage in a muffled conversation with the two.

Draventa looks up at Emerit as she addresses her and there's a moment where it looks like the princess might just outright ignore Emerit. But then she'll blink and nod her head once, "It is cold out, but the fire helps." Not a direct answer to the question, but it's polite enough.

Emerit will inhale when she hears that answer - and incline her head. Hands folding before her she will remain standing for a moment, unsure if she really should join Draventa or not. "Pray,… tell me if I am disturbing you, and I will leave you in peace," she finally remarks, her tone soft yet with a light tremble to it. Her gaze shifts to the chaperone and the two handmaidens, before it returns to her half-sister. "I thought, maybe you would like to speak to me… talk about how you are faring at the moment."

Draventa just watches her, Luna's words echoing in her ears. "You are the Ambassador for Rustle's Isle. If you wish to sit in the Moniwid Suite, you should be able to." Her eyes go back to the fire a moment, she has that distracted look, the one their father used to hate so much. A very small frown forms but she'll smooth her face, "As I said, it's cold. I went to Temple, but I am warming up now." Emerit can't possible think she'll talk about the betrothal, does she?

"I take that as a yes?" Emerit remarks, one brow moving upwards at Draventa's distracted look, and she will lower herself onto one of the seats. "Very well then,… You went to the Temple?" A polite inquiry. "Do you want to talk about it? Or prefer… oh, by the Gods!" Those hands tighten their grip, clasped as they are in her lap. "You have a talent to make me feel like an interrogator, given I have to literally ask for every tiniest bit of information. So just tell me, if you prefer to be left alone, Draventa! I… really try to speak with you! I am worried about how bad things went - I heard of course, from the usual sources." Her hands will finally let go of each other to gesture towards Alice and Lorraine - no surprise really. "I am worried, about you!" Her voice now lowered in volume, as her moss green eyes linger on Draventa with a mixture of helpless irritation and despair. "If you don't want to talk. Then tell me. That would be fair enough, I suppose."

Draventa's eyebrows go up slightly at Emerit's outburst. And then she'll blink, her face smooth, "Emerit. What do you expect me to do? You know everything. I don't wish to rehash. You make me feel like I am begin interrogated. Being judged by what I say to you, versus what you have heard.. that you are comparing. You know. What else do you want?" Drav's tone is fairly calm, considering . "Ever since I have arrived here, the only reason you have spoken to me has been to try to get information, to change how I am perceived, ask how other perceive me, so this betrothal will happen. It's happened. What more do you want?"

A hurt expression enters those moss green eyes, and Emerit's lips will form a thin line for a moment. "I am not /judging/ you. I never was! You mistake my motives again. Especially now. I do not seek to /compare/ information. I… ask you, as only you can give the answer, and if you do you give it willingly, without me having to put together and assume from what I hear from Alice and Lorraine." She sighs again, he posture upright and straight from the tension. "I admit I feel bad about how your first dinner with the prince went. The worst way imaginable! I know I… arranged the betrothal. That's why I feel responsible."

Draventa isn't sure what Emerit wants. "And what answer do you want, Emerit? There is nothing to be done." She'll straighten some, although again, it's surprisingly not aggressive against Emerit, as much as it is her steeling herself. "It is the best match for the Rustle's Isle. I will play my part…it is up to the prince if he plays his." There's a brief moment where her fear peeks through in her eyes, but she'll push it back, "I will do what everyone wishes me to do, or at least attempt to do so."

Emerit nods slowly. "Nothing to be done, aye. Still…" Her gaze flickers a bit when she catches the expression in Draventa's eyes. "It must be frightening. I do not blame you! If I were in your place…" Her voice trails off and she lowers her gaze again. "But I heard the meeting after that dinner went much more smoothly. Prince Logen's behaviour has improved, hasn't it? He must be scared as well, Draventa. And… don't forget his wife died only a month ago."

But Emerit doesn't have to be in her place, ever. If the Queen broke down crying, how can Drav stand a chance? Looking over to the two chaperones, Drav nods slowly and states without humor, "He seems to do better then he is coached or has an arrow in him." An inhale, she knows. How can she compete with a ghost? The answer is she can't. She will never compare.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?", Emerit replies, averting her gaze for a moment from Draventa's so very serious features. "He is trying. And he gets some help. Princess Roslin told me she scolded the prince for the… horrible way he treated you on that first dinner. I hear it was her lady-in-waiting that attended the next." A faint smile will brush the bastard princess's features, when her moss green eyes return to her sister. "As for the wedding date… It will take some time, as another marriage will have to take place first. That may buy you time, and him, to get things straight between yourselves."

Draventa isn't so sure. There can't always be a coach…or an arrow near by. Roslin's handmaid…that makes sense, she guesses. Drav will nod, as it's all she can really answer. "Which other marriage?" That is something she should start keep track of, she guesses. Not that she's going to have much say in her wedding, but some planning might be nice.

"That of your future sister-in-law Princess Roslin Kilgour and the Duke of Sutherland, Ronan Crawford.", Emerit replies, her lips curving into a faint smile. "It seems that match was already decided, at my first audience with the King." She lowers her gaze again. "So… there weren't any options left, really. With Mantilo gone, and Estevan, too." The high admiral has not been seen in these past four weeks. Maybe the dealings with the people at court have not been to his taste. "And… regarding your wedding…" As if she had read Draventa's mind. "I spoke with Lady Emma Mowbray a few days ago. A really nice lady she is, and she seems eager to help with ideas and preparations. She said, she has spoken with you about the subject." The sombre expression vanishes from Emerit's face as soon as she speaks about Emma. Such a charming young girl, and of an age with the Moniwid Ambassador.

Draventa vaguely remembers something about that, yes. She doesn't smile back, but nods. Her eyes flicker back to the fire, like the flames are some how soothing her desire to snap at the Ambassador. Options. Does she even know how she makes Drav feel when she speaks of her like that? Pale eyes look back, and there's a brief moment of hurt. Is Emerit going to take the wedding planning from her too? "Yes…she seems very nice." She'll smile softly, eyes dropping to her lap. She guess's she'll keep looking for someone else then. She thought Emmma might make a friend.

"You will be in charge of planning the wedding day, of course," Emerit will clarify, perhaps interpreting Draventa's dimmed reaction correctly. "If you want. I will offer only help if you wish it. Maybe…" Her gaze shifts to the window for a moment. "…maybe we can invite Lady Emma to come and visit us here for tea. I am sure you could use some cheerful company. And… if you prefer, I don't have to be present." Although a bit of regret shows in the mien of the bastard princess, when she makes that particular offer.

Draventa thinks about how uncomfortable that tea would be. It would either be silence, fighting or the two Moniwids fighting for Emma's attention. Poor Emma. "I…I think I would prefer to figure out the basics by myself, before I invite other opinions in." Not really, but it's easier…and less fighting that way. If Emerit's already spoken to Emme, she most likely knows, but Draventa will offer, in a ways of maybe making things less tense. "I already have my dress. it just needs to be altered. I have been told that is the hardest part. That everything will spiral off of the dress."

Emerit inclines her head, not seeming offended at all by Draventa's reply. "Certainly! I will keep out of everything, unless you wish my help." A smile will lighten up her demeanour at the mention of the dress. "That sounds… like you are already have some thoughts on the matter. Good. I will leave you now." She rises from the seat, her skirts giving a rustling noise as she does so. "Please, tell me if… Prince Logen should cause you discomfort again. I'd rather not rely on… reports. And maybe you would prefer it that way, too…?" A curtsey is offered, and Emerit moves to the door that leads to the Upper Hall. Yulanda rises as well, curtsies to Draventa and follows in the redhaired princess's wake.

Well, she didn't really have a choice, the Queen gave her the dress. It's not like she can say no. She'll smile softly though and watch Emerit start to depart. The smile fades away though at the mention of reports. "That is unfair, Emerit. Either you stop having the reports given to you, and I will tell you what I am comfortable with. Or you continue to get them." That ball really is in Emerit's court.

Emerit pauses at the doorstep and turns, shooting a glance back at Draventa. "Fair enough. You will concede that they may report to me, if things should go wrong again? Apart from that…" Her gaze shifts to Lorraine and Alice. "No more reports for me, please." A faint smile will be offered to the frail Moniwid princess. "That will do, I hope? You are in capable hands." She will hesitate, but then she will bite her lip and leave. The door closes behind her and Yulanda.

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