Sheat 03, 229: This Shalln't be Goodbye

This Shalln't be Goodbye
Summary: Emerit tells Roslin about her impending departure to Rustles Isle.
OOC Date: 21/05/2014 + 23/05/2014 (OOC) backscened!
Related: Moniwid Matters, and all logs regarding the Draventa/Logen drama.
Players:
Emerit Roslin 
Moniwid Suite, Darfield Castle
Roomdesc: 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.
45th day of Cri, in the year 229

A note had been sent out to the Duchess Roslin Crawford, an invitation to the Moniwid Suite, signed with the name 'Lady Emerit Moniwid'. The signature looking even and distinguished as would be expected from a female of a certain upbringing, as well showing a certain confidence.

When the guest arrives she will find the Mist of the Island sitting on the sofa before the hearth, her fiery red curls tamed into a braid, her back straight, and her feet in those elegant slippers resting on the floor. The dress is an old one, dark green with silver snakes embroidered into it, yet something in her posture, the way she carries herself shows she is no more the wild bastard princess she used to be. Her mien rather pensive, but probably more cheerful than on their last meeting, those moss green eyes even sparkle a bit as they watch the dance of the flames in the hearth. Or is it just the reflection of the fire? Anticipating the Duchess's favoured beverage, a servant has already brought a flagon of wine, as well as two glasses, and deposited them on the small table before the sofa, along with two plates, one with bits of cheese, another with bits of smoked ham.

There can be no doubting it now - Roslin Crawford is carrying a baby. And she will pop soon, or very nearly. It's no longer disguised by black, as she has moved to the half-mourning of lavendar, maintaining the Kincaid tradition of mourning for two months in honor, no doubt, particularly of her mother but also her father. A maid follows nearby, and guards in Crawford blue wait out in the hall. She'll never travel alone, this Roslin. As a Kilgour or a Crawford, she's far too rich and, apparently, important. If money means importance.

"Hello, my darling," Roslin says as she enters. Her servant melts away into the background, as servants ought. There's no threat here, clearly, and so Roslin approaches Emerit with open arms and a cheerful smile. Even if she moves a bit slower, a bit more clunkily, than before the big roundness of her.

Emerit's maid is there as well, although her presence may be easily overlooked, as she sits on a chair in the corner of the room. She will be ignored by the fiery haired lady when her visitor of similarly vivid hair colour enters, and Emerit will rise swiftly to her feet, swiftly closing the distance to Roslin to greet her with a gentle hug, if she will allow it. "Roslin,… I mean… Your Grace." the Moniwid smiles. "How kind of you to come… You look… well indeed.", said with an impressed flicker in her moss green eyes as she takes a step backwards, to take in the curved form of the Crawford's belly. "Oh my. How far along are you?" She'll take one of Roslin's hands to lead her over to the sofa. "Have a seat, and what would you like to drink?" A wave to Yulanda as Emerit already suspects the wine on the table might be a tad too much for her pregnant friend.

"Something sweet, if you have anything. A necter or juice," Roslin responds, her voice remaining unchanged even as the rest of her body warps around her. She sits, happily. "In the next month, I daresay, His Grace's child will come to stay," she says. A hand rests on her belly. "I have to admit, I dislike being pregnant a great deal. This great big body, and I'm ever so tired. I cannot afford to be - with Magistrate gone, and my own husband gone, I feel as though I'm running quite a chunk of the realm on my own." Still, she is in happy, easy spirits. "And how do you fare, My Lady? I heard the news, and ought to have come visit as soon as I did. I'm a terrible friend, I think. Never with you when I ought to be."

"Certainly," Emerit replies, inclining her head, before she shoots Yulanda a glance. The handmaiden offers a swift curtsey before she moves off, to get the requested beverage. "The next month?", the Moniwid continues then. "You must be very excited!" Although the look she gives Roslin may be a bit probing. The challenge of giving birth. She has certainly heard of it, and its possible perils. That thoughtful expression remains on her features when she replies to the Duchess's question. "I fare quite well of course. After I've received a letter of his Royal Highness, the Grand Duke, in which he clarified my position. I am most grateful for his decision. I really did not know what to expect, especially since it took a while for him to write me in that regard."

Emerit will take a seat beside Roslin now, her slender fingers moving to smoothen her skirts as she does so. "And while that part of his letter fills me with relief and joy," she continues, as she looks at Roslin with a pensive flicker in her eyes. "I fear I will have to leave Darfield, as he requested my return to Rustles Isle."

"Excited? No, I daresay not," Roslin says, speaking honestly. "I have not really ever looked upon motherhood with much excitement. And there is a great deal of anxiety, for if it is a boy it must be protected from everything at all costs. And there needs to be many other boys to follow. My husband has no family, now, and he leads the army. It does not bode well for the Crawfords. No, quite a lot of anxiety. But I should rather be giving birth than not." She looks down at her belly, but then rises her eyes, brows shooting up in surprise.

"Leaving?" She says, uncertainly. "Why on earth would you go back? I thought you were happy here. And as a Lady you may easily continue to serve as an Ambassador."

Emerit smiles thoughtfully when she hears Roslin's reply, and she inclines her head. "Aye, the duties of a wife, and a Duchess," she replies leaning back as she shoots her pregnant friend a glance, that shows both sympathy and joy. Her gaze will shift to the door when Yulanda returns, with a pitcher of apple juice and another with water. The Moniwid will watch the maid in silence as she pours Roslin a glass and hands it to her.

"Leaving, because the regent of my country demands it," the lady of Moniwid replies with a sad smile, finally, after the handmaiden has moved off to her spot in the corner. "I was happy here, in a way, Roslin. And pray do not get me wrong. You are the reason that will make it very hard for me to leave." She sighs softly. "I may be a lady, now, I even was back then, as Grand Duke Mantilo has decreed. Yet I feel I cannot reclaim my former position as Ambassador here. Your brother, the King would not accept it. Especially since he based his decision on annulling the marriage between Prince Logen and Princess Draventa on that fact, that I arranged it."

She pauses and shoots Roslin a glance. "I may continue to serve Rustles Island as an ambassador in other lands, or maybe get a completely different task assigned. However, I will be required to follow my… Grand Duke's wishes in that regard."

"I suppose I cannot blame you fully," Roslin says, sympathetically. "Happy in a way … that would make sense. With my father and now with my brother, there have been some tense times for you, here. And this is not your home, as much as I wish it could be. You cannot disobey your brother any more than I may mine. Though sometimes they can be so very stupid." She smirks at that, turning to take the apple juice happily. "If nothing else, at least be happy that the disagreement with my brother freed Draventa from a life of misery with my miserable brother." Even the passing mention of him makes her face turn dark. "Besides, I would like to see you have arranged any other marriage than with Logen. My mother was quite set on it, as I recall. When do you leave?"

"Oh, there have been tense times indeed," Emerit replies, her moss green eyes sparkling at the memory. "I remember when you came here to visit me, some time a go, to inquire about that small note that had been handed to Yulanda, and that foolish plan of escape…" Her voice trails off as she reaches for that flagon of wine to pour herself a cup. "And you may be right about the marriage… I could hardly foresee it would prove that difficult. Your mother, the Queen seemed intent on it, aye, as did your father. And mayhaps I was not skilled enough to find other options… few there were, really. Duke Ronan being one of them, and you another," she smirks at that. "A pity you and the Grand Duke didn't get along." she adds with a soft chuckle. "I never saw tempers that were so much opposed to each other." And people. Leaning a touch forward she will place her hand on Roslin's arm, in a placating gesture. "No. I am happy you found your match, in both wits and heart. You seem to be very happy, and Duke Ronan is the luckiest of men, having picked such a smart wife."

It is the question though, that will make that smile fade a touch, as Emerit lets out a soft sigh. "In a few days. Less than a week. It depends on when the ship is ready." Lowering her gaze she will take a sip from the cup, looking a bit thoughtful. "You are right though. It will be nice to return to Rustles Isle. It feels like I haven't been there in ages."

"Why, Gods above," Roslin says, lowering the cup after she's taken a sip. "That letter, the escape. I'd quite forgotten." She grins a little bit. "Perhaps you were startled to have met your match in me. I imagine that does not happen for you, very often." She's amused, playful. Even now, when it's likely the last time they will speak.

"I will confess it, I would still have liked to rule. I am capable, and I could have done so much. But I did not get the sense that your brother and I would match each other at all, and things between your country and mine always seem prepared to become tense yet again. I imagine … the whole thing would have ended poorly, for everyone. But everyone saw it. As for other options, believe me when I say that I had often been seeking them. And for ladies of such stature as Princesses, options are quite few and they dry up quickly. But at least, with all that's happened, there is no longer such a weight on your sister to make such a marriage as to a man as my brother. Perhaps she will be given a bit of leeway to make a proposal of her own to your brother, should her mind go toward it. As for me," she sets another hand on her belly. "I am able to remain here, in my home country, and help as I am able. That is a great joy indeed, and what's more is that I have found a man who matches my temper and desires fairly well. Well, I cannot say I found him. He was found for me, and the whole thing cleverly done even though … I cannot help but think it was done for some twisted reasons. But that doesn't matter, now. What do you hope for, when you return home?"

"The letter and the escape plan, was not a thing that I came up with, Roslin.", Emerit clarifies with a raised eye brow. "It was some twisted ploy to acquire me as a possible means to ensure the Grand Duke's loyalty." Not to Mobrin, obviously. "Had I come up with the plan, I would not have made it that easily to be seen through, believe me. Given the odds back then, I was desperate enough to consider it, however. For that I will take the blame." She chuckles softly, her gaze turning pensive for a moment.

"But enough of those times past.", the Moniwid continues after a moment, "I do hope that Draventa will come up with such a proposition. I feel she already has been through a lot of hardships and would deserve to find happiness, or at least a match that would give her peace and tranquility. And aye, you must feel blessed to be able to remain in your home country. I am happy that things worked out so well for you." The smile Emerit has for Roslin seems genuine enough.

"What I hope for," the Mist of the Island continues, in reply to her friend's question, "is that I am still well liked at home. I have not spoken with Mantilo since all those truths were revealed, and I have no idea how the family will take it. After all I'm no longer one of their blood, which may in a way take some of the momentum from their dislike for me. I am curious, I really am, how they will react when I return."

"I don't mean to imply that it was, my dear," Roslin says, still smiling easily. "Just as very few people who know me would accuse me of making an attempt on that disgusting Stewart 'prince' when he was here. If it had been me, it would not have been an attempt." Her eyes sparkle, full of amusement. "Gods, but I shall miss you, my dear. You must write to me very often. I confess it - there are so few here, among my own people, that I can truly and honestly call trusted friend as I can you."

She sips her juice again, sitting back with a sigh. Her poor back. "She does. I do hope she knows that I wish her all the happiness in the world, and would do whatever she asked of me to help her find it. We have not parted on good terms, she and I, but I wish her no illness, and every delight that life has to offer. She never sounded happy to be negotiated over as Princesses are, so I cannot help but think that when the initial sting of it all settles she'll find some happiness in making her own course."

She then goes quiet, looking around the room in a moment of thoughtfulness. "I do not know what words I can offer to that hope," she admits, openly. "You said once your father's wife had never taken kindly of you. I doubt she will even now. But for your brother … were it discovered tomorrow that Tyrel and I were not blood, it would not matter between us. I daresay it shall be the same with you." She grins a little wider at some memory.

"When I first found I would wed the Duke Crawford, and I was monsterous unhappy by the thought, Tyrel said something to me that you might find interesting. He said that a priest once asked him, 'Who would you be if you were not called Tyrel Kilgour?' And his response was 'I would still be Tyrel Kilgour, but the rest of the world would have less warning as to what that means.'" Roslin raises her glass in a little salute to Emerit.

"I will write you as often as I can, Roslin," the fiery haired Moniwid replies as she reaches for the hand of the Duchess, giving it a light squeeze. "I will miss you too!" A bit of sadness sneaks into her smile. "Maybe… maybe I'll be allowed to return one day - sent back even, to mend relations between our countries." The flicker of hope is faint however, and Emerit will fall silent when Roslin speaks of Draventa.

One of her hands moves to the necklace she wears around her neck, to that tinier snake pendant she wore often enough before she was emburdened with that heavy Ambassador's sigil. "I am sorry to hear you did not part on good terms. She has been through a lot. Even if as you say her being rid of your brother may have helped to ease her state."

"Aye, the Dowager Duchess Annya has never been fond of me," Emerit admits with a sigh, when Roslin speaks of what awaits her in Rustles Isle. "I believe, your assessment of my… the Grand Duke may be correct though. That is what I need to find out." The anecdote about Tyrel has the Moniwid chuckle softly and raise her cup of wine to join her in that toast. "A good answer indeed. I am still Emerit. The question is, how the way people deal with me from now on will change. In fact, it may help to know that Radino wasn't my father, that his blood is not flowing inside my veins. It may take some of the spark from their dislike,… that goes for the others, but I must admit, I am not sure how Mantilo will deal with it." Another admission offered with a slightly nervous smile.

"I imagine there will some that will be angry with you, if you want my true assesment," Roslin admits, placing another hand over Emerit's on hers. "That you lied to them, cheated them, made them think you were something that you were not. But you have been a Princess, lived the life, and you know this. The truth matters to so few people. And your brother is one of them. He is your family, and as you say, you are still Emerit. What made him love you remains entirely unchanged."

She smiles a little softer. "I will send a letter the moment you leave, offering to your brother a standing invitation for the Lady Emerit to call upon the Duchy of Sutherland at her convenience whenever she may like. And it will be true - whenever you find yourself free of assignment, whenever you have a chocie of where to visit, know that you may always come to me. And I shall welcome you as I would any sister. Likely moreso, since my own sister finds me rather distasteful." She grins again.

"They might," Emerit replies thoughtfully, her lips curling into a faint smile as her gaze drops to Roslin's hand on hers. "Foolish at it may seem. Lies and cheating could only have happened if I had known all the while, which I did not. No, for this the late Grand Duke will have to take the blame. And as he no longer is around,… I'm the only one left as possible target for their ire."

That smile will grow in intensity when Roslin speaks of Mantilo. "Oh I should be wroth at him, for leaving me behind so often." she says with a vivid sparkle in her moss green eyes. "But now… well. I need to speak with him, an exchange of letters could never make up for such a conversation. And yes, I'd be grateful if you would write him. For that same reason. That I would hardly want this conversation to be our last."

Growing pensive again, when Roslin speaks of her sister the Princess Caillin. "I used to have siblings, oh yes, half-siblings. But now I am left without any. It feels strange, indeed." Emerit muses, before her smile returns as she shoots the Crawford a glance. "It is good that I am not without friends."

"Nor shall you ever be," Roslin promises, giving the girl's hand a pat. She sighs a little and scoots to the edge of the seat. "But I really ought to be going, leave you to your packing. And I need to lie down, my back doesn't handle sitting so well." She cocks her head and looks over the other redhead with a sigh. "This shalln't be goodbye, I'm sure. For some way or another, we shall see each other again, and I daresay it shalln't be terribly long."

She lifts Emerit's hand to kiss the back of it in a fond gesture. "And know that no matter what happens wherever you go, you have friends here."

There is a flicker in those moss green eyes when Emerit meets Roslin's gaze, a flicker of concern - and regret, after the mention of a back offering discomfort. "Oh? Then I should no longer detain you," how ignorant of her, yet the burden of pregnancy is something she certainly has no knowledge of. Her hands are gently withdrawn as she rises and smoothens her skirts. "I am most grateful you came by though, oh how I will miss these conversations…, Roslin. I'll write you! And… I will come and visit." When Roslin rises the Mist of the Island will hug her, not as gently as she originally had intended, but with a certain urgence, as if she were well aware, that she may not see the other in quite a long time.

"Thank you! Thank you so much. I… will always remain your friend. Always." The smile that appears when Emerit lets go of her and takes a step backwards, her hands still holding onto Roslin's, maybe a contradiction to the tear the Moniwid appears to be blinking away.

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