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cailisairgid) wrote2009-07-28 07:30 am
cailisairgid) wrote2009-07-28 07:30 am
{ narrative } my lady never told me of her sadness bones floating in the sound
The arrival of Ankhenaten and his family throws Nuala into brief disarray. A watch is set at her request, and when that's done she leaves long enough to handpick a pair of suitable maids to attend the chambers. From there, one of the healers is informed she's to consider any requirements of the naga guests her highest priority, while the rest of the castle - save its Lord, naturally - must understand that entering their chambers without the Lady's express permission will be punished severely.
Amunet had best decide for herself when she's ready to venture further; for now, Nuala sets the boundaries clearly and the consequences for anyone else crossing them.
"You are a remarkably difficult woman to pin down, Princess."
Nuala presses her hand to her heart, straightening and turning away from her desk. "My lord, you startled me."
"I beg your forgiveness," Kethaigne says amiably, staying by the door to her study. "May I interrupt?"
"If you must. I would have sent a word - I'm afraid we shall have to postpone our game until tomorrow or the next day, after all."
"I rather thought so. Bad news from your benefactress?" He must be coming to be very used to that particular look from Nuala - always trying to discern what he isn't saying as well as what he is. She tends to find his sincerity as suspect as anything else, searching for the strings, the flaw.
"A family matter," she settles on. "If we're to offer a sanctuary, it will require my attention for some time. You'll have to forgive me - and I'm afraid I have to draw your interruption to an end." Nuala smiles tightly, clasping the pile of paper to her chest and moving toward the door.
"Of course. Goodnight, my lady."
"Goodnight, Lord Kethaigne. I'm sure we'll have much to discuss tomorrow."
She will think about it later, she resolves, brushing past him and his hands in mock-surrender to return to the apartment she'd allotted the naga and her place by the fire. (There is tea, and she sits by Ankhenaten, ink drying under her hands when she stops to watch him and worry.)
Amunet had best decide for herself when she's ready to venture further; for now, Nuala sets the boundaries clearly and the consequences for anyone else crossing them.
"You are a remarkably difficult woman to pin down, Princess."
Nuala presses her hand to her heart, straightening and turning away from her desk. "My lord, you startled me."
"I beg your forgiveness," Kethaigne says amiably, staying by the door to her study. "May I interrupt?"
"If you must. I would have sent a word - I'm afraid we shall have to postpone our game until tomorrow or the next day, after all."
"I rather thought so. Bad news from your benefactress?" He must be coming to be very used to that particular look from Nuala - always trying to discern what he isn't saying as well as what he is. She tends to find his sincerity as suspect as anything else, searching for the strings, the flaw.
"A family matter," she settles on. "If we're to offer a sanctuary, it will require my attention for some time. You'll have to forgive me - and I'm afraid I have to draw your interruption to an end." Nuala smiles tightly, clasping the pile of paper to her chest and moving toward the door.
"Of course. Goodnight, my lady."
"Goodnight, Lord Kethaigne. I'm sure we'll have much to discuss tomorrow."
She will think about it later, she resolves, brushing past him and his hands in mock-surrender to return to the apartment she'd allotted the naga and her place by the fire. (There is tea, and she sits by Ankhenaten, ink drying under her hands when she stops to watch him and worry.)
The Shadow,
I have always had a noted fondness for correspondence. It is, among other things, a pleasant way to end days that may not have been so pleasantly occupied - though there are days I spend so many hours at my desk I shouldn't like to see another blank sheet of paper for so long as I live.Human mortalitYour peace with mortality is something many of your kind must envy, I'm sure, but perhaps not your work ethic if it is even half what I suspect. Each time I sit to arrange my schedule, I find a half dozen more things I must make time for, and I'm afraid it's rather put off the thought of meetings in the nexus. Perhaps next week? There is a very charming tea room of sorts where I like to spend afternoons beneath the forest canopy.Faithfully,
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