Chaconne -- Caprice du Coeur

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Peregrine

"Mmm," He smiled holding on her for dear life, afraid to let her go. There was a shift in his very being, the one that could not lie to her even if he tried. There was such a part of him that could not have told her right off, but a huge part of his heart that nearly exploded with the words before they could be silenced back. He took a deep breath inhaling the very scent that made his heart swell that this was his wife. For all the years and many hearts that he claimed this one he got to keep. She wouldn't be mad, but he worried of upsetting her. "I went to Paris on the way home, stopped to check on JC. You know how I worry." Especially after the purge. His lips continued to kiss where they landed, gentle brushes across her ivory skin to coax her perhaps into his next phrase. "Brought you many things." He teased the skin of her neck pressing her back against the stone wall once more, lifting enough to force her off her balance, and support her where she stood. It was a motion to move her around him, for her to cling to him in fear of falling--and in many ways the only times his masculine side wished to dominate her. It was but a game no? He the hunter she the prey, or was it simply that even with her gimp leg she had caught him. He kissed her lips once more, breaking only to whisper of her new shoes, pastries, and.."An Ilkhanate Princess, with her brute husband, and many servants." Yeah. What?


Rosalind

"Jean-Claude -- I saw him at the coronation," Rosalind said, sounding as if she meant to recall something, but even Rosalind's steel melted a bit with the return of her husband. She enjoyed the sheer physicality of having him home again, even to the point that she did not complain when he threw her off her balance, clutching onto him though there had not been one moment in their history together in which he had let her fall. He enjoyed catching her off-guard; he always had. He also had a knack for it where others failed, finding Rosalind without a single crack in her armor, where Peregrine had realized early on it was not the armor he need concern himself with. "He seemed different," she said a moment later, and it took even Rosalind a moment to recall she was speaking of Jean-Claude. "What happened in P-- Ilkhanate?" A brow rose very slowly up her forehead, and just as slowly, she untangled herself from Pere, but kept him selfishly close. "I am glad our family is staying in the castle. They are infidels, Peregrine, what are they doing in our house?"


Peregrine

"A lot happened in Paris, Rosalind. I was worried I'd not get Jean-Claude to leave, it was too close." His heart pound outside his chest now as it left with even her slight pull away. However, he laughed then, "This word infidels..has been a big part of this entire trip." He took a deep breath, letting them move away, but taking her hand as he started with a small walk. A true gentleman would have offered her his arm, but he liked the feeling of her fingers laced with his; somehow she felt closer. "Its such a strange story.." He went on to tell her of how they were all linked to the King, how Ada had gone to see him, and even admitted that somewhere there had been confusion that linked him and Adelaide together in marriage, for her protection of course. "She needed a ride to Skye, they intend to live here. I brought them home..should I have taken them to the Underdark? Here?" He motioned to the castle and it's huge walls how strangely he would have rather been buried alive then spend too much time inside this tomb. "She is working now to find somewhere, she wishes to not wear out her welcome." He spoke quietly as if he worried someone would over hear them, "Turns out the King is a lot more gone then we thought, and his reaction to Ada..Jean-Claude, is not well at all." The whole thing hurt his heart.


Rosalind

"Wait." After the explanation, she unlaced her fingers from his, and let her hand slide down his shirt, pulling him in again. She liked the enclosed space of the alley, the sanctuary it provided from the court, though she could still hear soft laughter not far away, and the occasional heavy bootfalls of a passing clansman. "She saw the king, then? And he really is as mad as they say? My man in Auvergne mentioned ...." He had said how quiet the court was, but nothing of madness. It was so very strange knowing Philip was a closer relative of hers than she had imagined, but given her history, she must admit madness was not far in men who could orchestrate even her own existence. She believed it very much that Philip was mad. Ada must be even further over the edge to agree to see him. Did she think she could cure him? Make him see reason? France was becoming wildly unpredictable, and judging by the deepening line of worry on Rosalind's forehead, she knew enough to wish an immediate audience with ... someone. Who? The Order had gone on their separate ways. Janice was bound for Spain, God preserve her soul, and Claramae concerned with England. She did not wish to tell Jean-Claude, he was burdened enough with a partner like his Adelaide, but he had a unique way of putting the pieces together that complimented Rosalind's way of collecting those pieces. She dropped her forehead onto Pere's chest. She decided to focus on what she could actually solve, muttering into his chest: "Well, that is good. I do not even know what barbarians eat."


Peregrine

He curled his arms around her listening to her, knowing that if any had inside to France it was she--at least on this Isle. "She did see the King, he kissed her in the hall, she forced him back. Jean-Claude, doesn't know that, but I know what it's like to hunger for the one you love." His fingers trailed along side her jaw and when she pressed her forehead to his chest he held her tight. "Nasrin is not a barbarian. Not like her people, or even her husband. She's..something." Words could not express her. He laughed however at her last comment, and could not help but smile. His wife was amazing, she would be the only wife to ever worry of what to feed an intruder in her home. Running his fingers through her hair he kissed the crown of brown before closing his eyes. "Come meet her. Let me introduce you tonight? They are strangers on this soil, and can not return. The waters are horrible, even I'm afraid to sail them now. After this last run, I'm going to ground my ship. The whole summer here." Part of him was looking forward to the time with his family, but the gambler in him worried of what profit was to be had with a ship that would not sail. "I do know their horses like your roses."

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Rosalind

The night had turned cold despite the promising spring day, but of all the women upon this isle, Rosalind was one of few who did not find themselves lacking for clothing. She'd had her lady braid her hair in a coronet across her forehead, the soft brown plaits woven today with a blue ribbon to match her gown, giving her a decidedly festive look even if her expression was anything but. Though she had wanted very much to go home with Peregrine and meet the Ilkhanate princess, she'd convinced him to spend the night in the castle -- well, to let her spend the night in the castle. Where he slept after she fell asleep was up to him, but she'd made it clear she wasn't falling asleep alone. She'd left him with Aldric and Polly, and took to the night, letting its refreshing mildness brush across her cheeks, as if that might chase out the racing thoughts in her head. She rapped her cane very lightly upon his door, sincerely hoping she would find him alone. Was it too much to task? She'd made her peace with those brought into the family, but it did not mean she wished to make pleasantries when all she wanted was to confer with Jean-Claude. Besides, she missed their conversations, as strange as they sometimes went, they were always enlightening.


Jean-Claude

On very few occasions did Adelaide stay with him in the hall, perhaps for the same reason Peregrine hardly stayed in the castle. This was his tomb, the very space that held him in was in fact a comfort to Jean. In all his years he had lived in estates much like this with high grand ceilings, and halls lined with fine art. Tonight his heart hurt him, for the insides seemed to be on the out watching the thin frame of the man wonder through his own musings. With all that happened in France, Janice to Spain, and now Claramae and her England--he had seemed to retreat further into his own hells. Enough time had not passed for him to properly clear his mind, and frankly he had not found the right release. It did not come with music, it did not come with science, it did not even come in the beautiful elegant frame of the many Lily's he fitted for the coming ball. He could not even drown out his madness in a bottle of the oldest wine in the cellar. As the night went on, it found him nearly past his limit, and undone. His shirt unlaced around his neck opened nearly half way down his chest, while his ascot had been missing since a dinner he did not touch. His hair was wild atop his head falling in stringy locks down his spine, and passing over his eyes with every step he took in thought. Her knock could have found the goblet that was balanced between his fingers against his backside if he had not stopped mid-stride, but the surprise could not have washed from his eyes. "Entré.." His posture corrected itself standing now before the fire waiting for his late night visitor.


Rosalind

"Pardon," she offered, pushing open the door with her cane and entering with her usual brusque efficiency. Yet upon seeing his disheveled state, immediately reconsidered wishing to find him alone. Though a very strange woman, and one possibly hellbound, Adelaide did seem capable of keeping her man in order. Were they still on the outs? "Jean-Claude, whatever is the matter?" It was not polite to lay a hand upon his arm in comfort, so she remained where she was, her hands clasped upon the head of her cane. What might an observer think of this tableau? Little worth reporting on, save the state of his undress. Though she saw the cup in his hand, it was clear he needed another, and moved past him to pour a replacement for him, which she held out like a peace offering. "Peregrine found me today. He ... mentioned what happened in Paris." There was, really, no use for meaningless conversation. Jean-Claude was not the sort to worry over spring weather in any way that was not meaningful to old bones, and Rosalind merely cared in the fact that her husband was a sailor. They had both been to the coronation, and there was little use in recounting what they had both witnessed, and though she generally had more tact than at present, it was more prudent to get at the heart of what had him so distressed. She poured herself a cup of wine. "And I have heard of Janice. I sent letters in triplicate to my contacts in Aragon." She reached into the hidden pocket of her gown, and held out her copy. "I will do my best to see her safe."


Jean-Claude

There was little need for comfort, Jean-Claude simply needed to sleep. Yet, in the hours of his restlessness all he could do was drink. The small gesture of simply replacing his cup was enough to cause him to smile if only a little. Rosalind, was an amazing woman, and when the glass once again rest in his hand he took a deep breath. "Beautiful. Rosalind, you look like a dream." Her formal title forgotten, left for only proper occasions and perhaps when he was cross. It was not proper to touch his arm, so let he be the first to break that bond tonight, with his gloved hand coming to touch of the ribbons in her hair. "What is the occasion?" His language slipped to their native tongue, as it felt refreshing. Her mention of Janice, and the letters caused his heart to stir. He took them in his hand along with a deep inhale of the air around them. Peregrine must have imprinted upon her, for the very outside seemed to thrive in the light of her hair, the scent of the sun, he almost hear her laughter in the very aura that surrounded her. Little reason came to read over her letters, for he knew deep down they were flawless, and for this he was thankful. "Come. Sit with me, catch up." He would pour her a glass as well, and keep it going until he saw that flush rush to her cheeks. He had no where to start that would pass this burden on to her, but he felt his pale thin lips tighten to keep from spilling it all at once. "Adelaide, drugged the King." Was not even how he wished that to come out, but with the way his manners came together it was the break in the floodgate.


Rosalind

His words made her very grateful for the offer to sit, as well as the glass of wine in her hand, though perhaps the timing might have been better. She very nearly sprayed that fine, well-aged wine upon the rug, but true to nature, remained composed, though she swallowed with some difficulty. Her eyes stung for a moment, but she dismissed temporary physical discomfort to stare at Jean-Claude. "She did what?" Peregrine had left out that minor detail. It seemed so dramatically out of character for the woman, to cause harm to any with the intention of doing so, that she repeated it quietly to herself to let it sink in. "Whyever did she drug the king? Is he really so mad? What did she hope to gain? Oh, forgive me, Jean-Claude, I am prying." She briefly touched her hair, feeling the ribbon slide beneath her fingers. "Peregrine.... Well, it was necessary to comb it out. I had my lady's maid braid it. The ribbon was her idea." Of course. Frivolity was never Rosalind's idea. She was as austere as a widow, or as a Scots woman, neither of which especially described her, nor justified the way she dressed to the men in her life. "It has been decidedly dull here in comparison," she said with a note of dryness to match the wine. "Polly and Aldric came with me to the castle to prepare for the coronation. The ladies were quite busy with last-minute sewing of the Queen's garments, and preparing our tableau. How was Paris? Tell me, please, you must know my memories of the city are rather compromised by my experiences, but I have always liked the idea...."


Jean-Claude

She could have hid behind her excuses all she wished, but he saw the truth. A stillness had fallen over him as he regarded her in his dark manner, with shadows at play of fires burning embers shielded by the darkness of his hair. This was the part of him that forever kept with the creatures of the night, an old wolf in his chair, "It is beautiful, mon cher, enchanting--a nice change, from three years past when you sat before me a widow." Blinking from his darkened stare he took a deep breath and shook his head, "Adelaide, for many years was a companion to His Grace, along with I believe him to be your uncle? A strange small world, is it not? She said he needed sleep. That a good night of peace could set him right." There was little to do of a man's mind that Ada could not get into, she had undone him really in their younger years, but had not captured his heart until their chance meeting. He went silent again, staring a space between the cracks in the floor as he recalled Paris, and the too short of time they spent there. "Paris, was wonderful. It was hard to come back to this cold bare land, even with the decorations for the crowing, it can not compare to the spring in Paris." Raising his nearly coal black eyes to her, too often it was hard to tell if he in fact met her own, or looked past them into her very soul. "I must leave for England soon," He whispered knowing he was not to speak of the subject, but it nearly killed him. "Rosalind, I feel older every day. I feel God closer each morning. I worry for the first time in my life of death. I do not want to leave her." All his waking world he had been so careless as to where he went, trotting from country to country with little idea of what the future held. Jean-Claude had the world at his finger tips from his birth, had never wanted of anything. "These years of peace are gone. Janice, with my Julian to Spain. Claramae to England..how can I pull her from her garden?" The tips of his fingers ran down his face, outlining the thin lines of his cheeks. "There is none other on this Isle save maybe you, who can handle politics as I. Claramae excluded. It is our job first to pull this nation from war. Think of all the lives that will be spared if we can keep the peace."


Rosalind

"I did not know Adelaide and Ghislain were such good friends of the king," Rosalind said mildly, inadvertently betraying her utter ignorance about her uncle. Though after the awkward pause between them, the flush finally rose to her cheeks. Ghislain and the king? She crossed herself at the sinful turn her thoughts took and immediately put the accompanying visual out of her mind. "I believe this land's barrenness is precisely what makes its treasures the more stunning. You have not been here long enough to appreciate certain reprieves of Scottish life," Rosalind said, almost sounding wistful. "After a long, hard winter, when the ground has just begun to green, the air is mild and smells of the sea and freshly turned fields, that first warm breeze that settles upon your face, and promises warmer weather to come. Or the harvest, watching the men and women push their way through the golden grain with their scythes. The dust hangs in the air long enough that the very air near sunset turns red. These are luxuries I have learned to enjoy, as infrequent as they are. When I deal with those of this land, and inadvertently those of our homeland, I remember those little joys. They are what I fight to return home to." She more than glanced at Jean-Claude, studying him much as he seemed to look through her. "She has her garden to return home to. It is not going anywhere. And like all of us in this land, she knows what it is like to lose it all. It is the rational decision to make, to accompany you, but I will not speak to any other woman's logic. I do concede my own is unfailingly pragmatic to my own detriment. What may I do to help you?"


Jean-Claude

"It is here, where you and I differ so very much, Rosalind. You have your ties, you little passions, your family and clan. You were born into this world a servant to it's humanity, and you willingly offer your hand. This, is where I both curse and rejoice in my family name. I have not once thought this Scottish life to be appealing. A rock is a rock, and on that rock is grass. There is little to experiment or change, and even the livestock seems mindless. They are always the last to hear of changing medicine, and for christ sake have not a single ounce of common sense when it comes to modern science. I am lucky to have been accepted into this Order, or I would have died long ago." He straightened his posture while crossing his feet to continue, "All of these trees, and flowers, fields with rainbows.." He threw his hands up to shake away the romance behind such venues. "They have never kept me entertained. I see this in my young apprentice. Very few of you have let on to him like you, but have you ever stopped to think that it is his boredom that makes him so?" He stood shaking his head, "Forgive me. I'm drunk, but yes. Ghislain and our King. It is not so hard to think about if you could imagine them in their younger years. My mother..Lord almighty, she could not get off the subject."


Rosalind

"Have you stopped to consider that he may possibly be the spawn of the unholy?" Rosalind queried with one brow arched. "He is ill-mannered, arrogant, and heedless of authority. He obeys you insofar as it gains him access to a world otherwise barred him, for which I hold no enmity, but if he uses my Christian name once more without my leave, I may put his head upon a pike." She took a sip of wine, everything about her save the ribbon in her hair informing him it was not an idle threat, and that she would possibly have aid from nearly all of the castle's residents in carrying it out. "Jean-Claude, have you considered what must be done to make Skye all that you laud of Oxford and Paris? What of opening a university here that would rival any elsewhere? What must be done to broaden the minds of these backward Scots, but to open doors otherwise locked. Even young Julian might benefit. Should it make him a creature more tolerable, I would be the first to donate." Dear Lord, he brought up that pairing again. She did not wish to think of her uncle in this way with the king. Like many, she believed the king infallible. And while Ghislain had orchestrated her kidnapping three years ago, she'd found a great deal to admire in him, and more than a few similarities. This knowledge put her at odds with her own beliefs, for as devout as she was, she could not believe him languishing in hell. If Philip was anointed by God to lead the country of France, it suited that God would not condemn His chosen to a similar place for being a sodomist. She needed more wine. Pouring herself another cup and taking a sizeable enough sip that it was clear she was not drinking it for its refined notes, she commented with some amusement, "As provost, you may even dictate classes should be conducted in the dark, away from the frivolity of rainbows and livestock."


Jean-Claude

Her words of Julian went through him, and he felt his chest tighten around his heart. "He means the world to me Rosalind. Please." Quiet words, that hardly escaped him, but she was right. He simply refused to see it. Closing his eyes he let his head fall back in the chair, while fingers came to undo the laces already undone..dear God. Had he been this naked all night? Be it of lack of sleep, or too much wine--Jean-Claude had taken on a new form. "I am not certain I could even make it to my bedchamber." He smiled, "Your very presence alone is a comfort. Forgive me..I am not as young as I used to be." Meaning he could have held six glasses by now and still make it through to where the sleep took place. He laughed at her comment to follow his own of rainbows and sheep, "Non. No day classes for fear of the sun..and the gay little songs the birds sing." It felt good to laugh, better then he ever dreamed, and as when he finished he closed his hands over his chest. "You are not as bad as they say you are, Dear Rosalind. You've kept my pirate in line, and in turn given me a place to stay..for this perhaps it is not so bad here, it could be on that damned ship." He hated the sea, for with it was a whole new amount of frivolity. "Take me to bed. I am not certain I could sleep one more night in this chair."


Rosalind

"Goodness, mon ami, perhaps I ought not to have refilled your glass." But she enjoyed seeing him so amused, even if it owed entirely to the wine. She enjoyed the sound of his laughter. It reminded her very much of what she loved about Peregrine -- her husband always found cause to laugh, and it was -- for the most part -- infectious. She set her glass down, though, knowing the hour was late, and she'd told Peregrine to wait for her. The prospect of falling asleep in his arms was enough to put an unusually genuine smile upon her lips, while her eyes drifted shut in bliss. The few glasses of wine consumed within the past hour or so were not rightly felt until she stood up, feeling the warmth in her cheeks, but not her constant companion of pain in her leg, which was always the intended effect. She held out her hands for Jean-Claude to take, holding perfectly still while he gained his feet. She slid her arm around him to hold him steady, should he need it, and it turned out to be a very good idea for both. He was startlingly thin beneath the flattering cut of his clothes, but owing to his tall frame, not as light as she had expected. It gave him a solidity that his otherwise vaguely ethereal frame lacked; it also served to make him a very decent crutch as she compensated for the weaker leg, and he leaned upon her to compensate for the alcohol. That she could not feel her leg did not mean it had been miraculously cured. She would be even more indebted to alcohol were this the case. They made it to the bedroom before Rosalind's leg gave completely, Rosalind quite sober despite the bright eyes, enough that she could see quite clearly where their toppling was leading. She ought to be grateful they landed upon the bed, as it was much more accommodating to the extra weight upon her than the floor might be, but she was still very improperly pinned beneath the scientist. God preserve them, Rosalind thought in mild panic, if he passed out.


Jean-Claude

"Perhaps not. I seem to have lost all my manners." He smiled, the world lost to him in his eyes, though found as a hand came to collect her shoulder. She was so tiny, unlike his Adelaide who seemed so full with life. Her height to him was indeed petite, though he knew her to stand a head taller then most of the court. This too was a very strange change. "Forgive me." His apologizes could hardly be understood as his point of breaking flushed his face. "You've always been such a good friend. It is beyond me why of all the men on this Isle you pick Pere." His slurred speech, caused him to laugh, "Suppose it his youth, for he dearly loves to laugh." It changed from time to time, the way his hands held her. In moments he touched her as if she were delicate flower prone to break under his hand, and in the next held on to her as if she were the last solid structure before he would drown. "Where would we be without your steady hand?" He slurred just before they hit the bed. The motion could have been the same as a spiral down the rabbit hole, for he knew this was what so many spoke of. He expected the floor, the rush of the hardwood was a shock when it was the down of the bed cover. His mind numb to the world around him, he held himself up with his arm over her. "Is this the part where you admit you give up on lost boys.." He laughed, flushed by his own stupidity, and how suddenly Peregrine's pathetic pick up lines washed over him like the sea. He rolled to his back, the arm that was beneath her curling her there and his free hand came to clasp her own pressing them both over his exposed chest. Not so many scars there, but the small trace of what was below. "One in a million you are..let us see what can be done about your leg. If you trust my hands." His thumb brushed over her knuckles, "I have trusted yours."


Rosalind

There was a facet to Jean-Claude that she found unbearably sweet at times. Beneath the mad scientist's exterior, he was someone entirely different, varying in Rosalind's mind from a brilliant schoolboy who nevertheless lacked the verbal skills to seduce a lady, to a sequestered scholar who had no need for such skills. He was such an odd man, but one she liked very much. At the moment, however, she found herself in a predicament that no married lady should encounter, attempting to move her arms to gain the necessary momentum to pull herself away, and trying very much not to consider how awkward she felt beneath him. But at that precise moment, he brought his weight to bear upon one arm, lifting himself away and soon onto his back. She gave a little sigh of relief, letting her eyes linger on the ceiling until he had collected her to his chest. More than the wine made her mind feel slow, but she decided it was best to leave before it caught up. She sat up, gingerly lifting the hand upon her own and setting it in place atop his chest. "I have grown accustomed to it. It has not grown accustomed to bearing the weight of friends who have consumed too much wine," she teased, sliding off the bed and going to his feet. She removed his boots, setting them down by a nearby chair, and moved his legs atop the bed, lest he wake up with a sore back in addition to a sore head. She sat gingerly near his chest, and twisted to place a light kiss upon his forehead. "Let us talk about it after a good night's sleep. Peaceful dreams, Jean-Claude."

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Peregrine

He would not travel through the Underdark tonight, not when the moon was so high in the sky. No, tonight was for the sea and the exploring of a ship that had yet to be named. It was a token of gratitude from Adelaide..or a peace offering, he wasn't sure but he was thankful. He could retire his parents ship after the season, though even now it remained dormant tucked into the cove of his home he shared with his wife. She seemed such an eerie sight not lit up, so full of ghosts, but nothing compared to the state of the smaller rig that took his attention now. She needed work, and lots of it. Even her sails were undone in parts and needed replaced. It would be a project of much devotion, but not one he was ready for just yet. The rope that was across the deck spiraled around his feet hanging like vines and just as easily broken, "Rotting." He hated the smell, it burned his lungs, but so far this was the only sign of decay. However, the pirate wished not to think of the decks below. It had been used for cargo, no spoiled ship of a Queen like the Lee, and rightly so for everything about it seemed weather worn and weary; yet proud and tall. He liked it. Since the fight at the Cat's eye Peregrine had not been home, he didn't like for Rosalind to see him with such a bruise, and in a few days time it would be gone. The ocean was calm tonight though balancing somewhere between it's wealth and rage, he wondered if a storm wasn't blowing somewhere off the coast. The ship seemed to sway a bit too much for being docked so close that perhaps the anchor wasn't heavy enough. "I'm not going out to sea this summer," Peregrine spoke over his shoulder to the pirate second hand who had been the best replacement for Jean-Claude he could find, and before the old man could ask he would continue, "Not this time."


Rosalind

"That is a relief," Rosalind said, her voice carrying, though she did not speak with great force. The breeze was slight, the waters wide, and when Rosalind wished to be heard, she generally was. Men had talked over her before. They had sought to silence her. They had ignored her at their peril, and nearly brought Argyll down in flames in their quest for justice. At the center of so many folk stories, they expected her to be prettier, more effeminate, the French princess led to Scotland by cross-Channel politics and the gold of a not so long forgotten promise to a dying king's close confidant. From Crusade to a border barony, the wilds of the desert to the forests and swamps of Beauquesne, Inveryne to Skye, they expected a queen to cross those waters with her head held high, not whispering to ghosts in the corners, nor surreptitiously wetting her tongue with opium. She was too tall, too thin, too pragmatic. She made too much sense and she never, ever sought the attention her honorary titles entitled her to. And when she was displeased, it was the same expression as her calm, holding the edges of a very light shawl around her shoulders, small braids holding the length of her dark hair from her face as she watched her husband at work in the cove.


Ealora

The night was peaceful to a fault and Perry would be right, there was a storm off the coast, Ealora could smell it in the wind. To tell the change of weather was one of her lesser known talents. It was nights like this when the storm could shift patterns that she loved the most. The air was dry with a hint of moisture like a spring rain that had not yet dried. For such standings in the night, the waves were rolling in steady and smooth which was just another added bonus to the mix. There would be no underdark tonight for though her mind continued to teeter as if on the edge of a blade it was more crisp then it had been days before. Did this mean she had changed her mind? Of course not, she hadn't crossed the path of the General since but that meant she was away from her kids as well. There was a downside to everything. The one thing she could not face right now was her kids. The disappointment and confusion in their faces. She was running away or at least people thought she was so let Maahes deal in telling them since she was making a fool of him. Her jaw tightened despite it was her own thoughts that was rising her ire at the moment. Before she knew it she was at the docks and the new rigging was sticking out like a sore thumb amongst ships like the Shadow Storm and it was then, even at the pace she was at from it, that she heard Perry's voice and grinned. She hadn't seen him since the fight either. No time like the present. As she stalked behind the pirate's wife, it was like she was made of shadows herself leaning although carefully against the railing to watch their interaction for a moment before joining in herself. "An here I was going to ask you to make a run with me to the other side of Skye. Oh well, guess I am going to have to find some other pirate to fill my bed, oops, I mean spot." She offered Rosalind a wink as she spoke knowing perfectly well the woman was there but there was that telltale sign of madness in her eye, like a fire brought to a raging life from a gust of wind.


Peregrine

The wind would be the least of their worries should the sea start it's rage, though Ealora's words to his wife had him raise a brow. Every bit of the rope was rotten, enough that he'd not be able to tie off til morning when the vendors opened once again. For the time being it would sit where it was docked, held only by the docking line that would soon find it's captain upon the boardwalk. "Ealora. Good timing. Spare some rope?" His arm came to circle around Rosalind's hip as he seemed a bit on edge, rolling her around in an embrace he pleaded with the madness in Ealora to stay silent. Not now. He mouthed, kissing his wife's cheek, "Hi honey." Whipped he was indeed, but Rosalind didn't know anything that was going on. Did she? "I don't think I'll get to sail tonight, Ealora, perhaps tomorrow?" Lacing his fingers with Rosalind's he turned to face the maddening pirate knowing that look all too well, and his heart broke all over again for her.


Rosalind

Rosalind arched a brow in the darkness at Ealora's comment. It was not nearly so effective now that the wealth of her hair was rarely hidden beneath fabric, but it still held quite a bit of power. "Good evening, Ealora. I do not see the humor in the joke, but it seems my husband does have need of your ... skills." Rosalind could be chilly and arrogant, warm and inviting, a combination of the above. When she cut, it bled, and her pride made it so she did not like to miss. But some change in the wind prevented her from turning toward Perry for an explanation, instead leaving her exposed to Ealora for a second longer than she would usually allow. "It is a good night to be home with the children," Rosalind said, not quite an apology, but she wasn't ready to make nice, her eyes a bit too suspicious after such a greeting, though a part of her understood she was inadvertently insulting Peregrine. She squeezed his hand in return, as if making sure he understood the comment was directed at the both of them. It would be a good night to be at home with the children, so why wasn't she? A midnight stroll was Rosalind's hobby only in times of national strife. She rarely left her home unless called to the castle on business of court or clan.


Ealora

A bad storm was just another bit of good weather. God how she missed the bed weather being at sea. She was even more crazy while the shadow was being pitched nearly on its side and threatening to roll. It was the thrill, it gave her a high, hell it gave her an orgasm most of the time and she didn't need to be mad to enjoy it. Fingers laced against each arm as her arms wove under her breasts. Her fingers sans her weddings rings spoke very loudly that she hadn't changed her mind about anything that had happened a few nights prior. Her lips curled into a tighter grin, one of danger and alluring. "I should have some aboard the storm" she answered Perry first before her eyes turned back to Rosalind. "Don't be insulted Darling, I'd even be willing to teach you tricks that would turn your husband’s hair white." Slender brows wiggled with the dark tease. "oh, hmmm home with the children. I do believe your wife just told you no." She was going to make trouble if she continued her mind warned her and so she turned from the couple and sauntered her way up to the shadow storm disappearing below the top deck to see if she had rope.


Peregrine

He squeezed her hand, heavily wanting so bad to cry out of how the rain was coming--they should leave. Right now. It took every ounce of control not to stick his neck out any further, but these were dangerous waters Ealora was treading in. "She's fine. All fine. My hair is white. See?" He couldn't stop the words that fell from his mouth like lies, one after one there was enough to be truth should someone search the words. Once they were alone on the dock he quickly turned to her, "Listen. Not tonight. Tonight is not a good night with children. Ealora is..sick.Very sick." Leaning in a bit closer he ran his free hand up the braid of her hair, God he loved it when she wore it down, and often tugged on the end thinking of the time she had indeed been locked in her tower. "Maahes spoke to the Duke today about having their marriage dissolved. He also put an order in to keep her away from her children..she doesn't know." Looking up to catch sight of the pirate, he shook his head. "I'll be blamed for it I'm sure, so don't wait up..but keep the light on the gate on? I'm sure they'll send for you when I'm locked up." He spoke so calmly as if this was nothing but another day. However, it wasn't helping his 'stay home' summer any.


Rosalind

"I do not understand you," she hissed, but heard him out, pulling ever so slightly away from him. He was meddling in others' affairs again, putting his hand in where it did not belong. Perhaps it was as inherent to his nature as it was in hers to be dragged into larger matters beyond their home, but at what point would he ever say no? Rosalind had always had a proverbial, and often times very real, knife to her throat to make the decision rather easy. "I am sorry to hear of their marriage. Their poor children." Not to mention the states of their souls -- though Rosalind always wondered of the Barbarian's, and had stopped questioning matters of good deeds upon meeting Pere. She rolled her eyes heavenward, briefly, as if seeking succor from stars that would rapidly vanish behind encroaching clouds. "I will be at home, then. I came to find you, you have not been about much, and was rather happy to discover you were not in the Underdark." However she'd determined that without setting foot in those narrow, dark passages would be left to speculation. Rosalind never explained how she came by her information. Such was the price of what marital harmony they had. "I am not the only one wearied of your absences." But she dutifully kissed his cheek before stepping away from him, her feet making an uneven sound upon the dock as she faced the road home.


Ealora

With a coil of rope wound about her like a garment draping in an angle, she dragged a spare bit behind her, nothing in her movements said the weight bothered her. "You’re lucky I'm a ship Captain too Perry" She quipped as she began to unwind the rope from her body and letting it make an eerie 'whap' against the docks as the heavy rope was left abandoned there. Celadon eyes followed Rosalind into the darkness and then moved back to Perry. A slender brow rose as if to ask if there was trouble in paradise although there was no account of being sorry for what she had said. "You know, I do believe she hates me for what my soon to be ex husband did." She let out a hum of a laugh and reached behind her to pull a bottle from her belt. "Look what I found, a bottle of rum. Kind of cliques wouldn't you say? Care to join me. There's a whole crate full." The bottle was tossed in his direction before her eyes turned to his new catch. It needed a lot of work if it was going to sail rough seas. "So what is it I don't know?" Her chin dipped downward as she looked at him sideways.


Peregrine

His heart ached, a deep true ache as she started to walk away. Rosalind always knew how to put a knife though his chest without ever touching the blade. Torn then, he couldn't let her walk home. The wind pushed his hair over his face, always seeming paler under the moon, almost white at times. "Ealora..you are letting this get out of control." He took a deep breath, "You don't get to say things like that to her. Rosalind isn't like us, she doesn't joke like that ok? I draw the line there." Though he was angry he didn't let it show, nor did he keep the undertone of his voice without reason. "That's my wife. Ok? I still have one of those, you are the one letting yours go." He took a deep breath, he tried to push through the words as gentle as he could knowing full well she was like a balancing act knowing each end weighed so heavy that should the other grow heavier it would all fall down. "Maahes is going to get the children, he's posted guards at the door..put them in the castle. The house is empty. You have a home with no one in it. I can only take you so far, Ealora. The rest you have to find." He shook his head, and put a thumb over his shoulder to motion to his wife, "I..I'm..uh..going to walk her home. I'll come back later..tomorrow." He honestly didn't know what to do, torn. He loved Ealora very dearly and understood where she was coming from more then any other on the Isle. However, he just made right with Rosalind, their relationship was at it's peak and the last thing she needed was a dead husband at the hands of the General. It was already a sore subject.


Rosalind

She wasn't so far away that she failed to hear him. Her footsteps came to a stop when he spoke, and she waited for him to follow. She knew he would, just as she would follow him if he ever reminded her so carefully of truths and power. She secured the brooch holding her shawl together above her breasts, and turned to face him when she saw him emerge from the dark, extending her hand to clasp his. Rosalind didn't know where he'd been, but she had hope he hadn't been embroiled in the sort of battles he'd been involved with in the past, hoping she would look beyond dark-eyed looks from her friends and Cheshire grins. Playing games was in his nature, as much as it was within hers to make order out of senselessness, but they had both hit their limits, and Rosalind had recognized her mortality too many times for one life to insist she keep their worlds separate. He should know better he couldn't simply disappear, and she would not go looking.


Peregrine

Her hand wasn't enough, she couldn't be close enough without his arm going around the small of her back, his thumb brushing over the smooth dip along her spine before he pulled her in. He kept his eyes on the road ahead of them, surely she must have noticed how he didn't once look over his shoulder afraid of what was lurking behind them. The dagger still under his pillow, but no longer did he keep the hilt curled in his hand as he slept. A dreamless sleep, one that often he laughed when he woke. There was a brighter light on the horizon of his very being, and if she didn't notice she didn't know him at all. "Take a deep breath, Rosie." He finally spoke after walking in silence, feeling the tension on her like ice. He kept it from her, well guarded this truth almost ashamed to admit it, but it felt so right once the words fell from his lips, "I gave her the keys." The meaning wasn't necessary. It was such a relief to not feel as if he walked thin lines. "I just hope she doesn't get so caught up in it she can't find her way out." He cared deeply and it showed when he let his gaze fall to his feet watching as the stones kicked under his steps. He wore his hair back tonight as always when the weather was hot, and there was work to be done; wild strands falling freely as they so often did. "Let her deal with the Underdark, I'm going to have my hands full enough with the..kingdom." It felt so strange to say that again, but it was nice to belong even if he didn't have any position or title. There wasn't a need for a warrant out for his arrest, that spoke for some sort of loyalty right?


Rosalind

"Do you think she will, find her way out, I mean?" Rosalind asked, her own arm sliding across his back. It was not so long ago that such gestures in public would have embarrassed her deeply, but it was night, and the road was quiet and peaceful. They had both changed. Peregrine was much like their cove on a summer day, all sunlight glittering on the water, content with himself and the life he'd settled into. He was the man she'd fallen in love with, the one she had seen in kind gestures, who had truly talked to her as they combed castle halls looking for her sewing basket, who had stormed Inveryne in full armor. “And it is safe for you? You may go there again?" She did not ask whether she might. She wouldn't set foot there again. The ability to defend herself did not mean she wished to find herself in such a position. But she would, if she had to. They walked in silence for a while, Rosalind listening to Pere scuff his feet on the road, and watching the branches overhead. "What are you thinking?" she asked instead of wondering aloud where he had been, and more importantly, why. But she rarely, if ever, made direct demands of him.


Peregrine

“I hope so, because then I'll feel guilty." He eyed her for a moment, knowing when she fished. His answer coming with the following of her words. "I can go back. The pub is still mine, but it's hers now. I'm done. Not right for a princess to be married to that, and it doesn't feel right anymore. Strange..I know." He half smiled, and let go of the air he was holding in his chest as if he were afraid of drowning. "I'm not thinking." With his eyes on the road again, a darkness loomed then over his eyes. "I can't help but feel vindicated, or even. He hurt my wife, I gave his a new life--without him. All I've ever done is care for that family, and all I ever get is hit in the face, blamed. Ealora would be dead right now if it wasn't for me…." He thought back on the night at hand, "Mmm, ok maybe more so because of Jean-Claude, but he wouldn't be here without me." Suddenly, he stopped his mind on a subject that had been pestering him now for the last few weeks, and that cloak she wore? Seemed awful fine. "Speaking of Jean-Claude. Do I need to remind him, like a gentleman of course that you are in fact my wife? Or is it your birthday every week? Because, you know, he's sparing no expense." Meaning the jewels that always seemed hand placed over the garments, simple of course, but detailed enough to show her class.


Rosalind

"I've forgiven him, Peregrine. Trust? It is another issue entirely," Rosalind said quietly, even sounding faintly amused, though even these many years later, when she had a falling dream, she still woke with her hand on her jaw. Of all the people to be afraid of, and all the memories her mind might grasp -- even Rosalind knew to set it aside, lest it add to her collection of ghosts. She believed Maahes a good man at heart, but a man nonetheless, with his own internal struggles and demons, and strength in his arms to uproot trees. “Do not hate him when he has worked so hard to make amends, not on my behalf. But you, if he dislikes you because of what you did to save his family, I wish it was different. You know the definition of rational, yes? They are only rational if they agree with you." With a smile, she fell quiet, and when he spoke again of Jean-Claude's gifts, felt the skin along her neck heat with embarrassment, flush creeping over her jaw and into her cheeks. One could hide behind masks, but even Rosalind's had cracks. "I wish you would remind him, it is quite an embarrassing display," she said after a moment, leveling her chin and feeling her cheeks cool. "We are simple country people now, husband," she offered with her usual dry humor.


Peregrine

The answer didn't suit him. Rosalind had an uncanny way of skirting around the truth if it meant saving her own embarrassment or even a fight. Though, he doubted much it was their own fight she would try to keep from. Funny how much of a hypocrite he could be, but Peregrine wasn't known for his deep rooted love, so perhaps the jealousy that did rise from it had merit. "Why is he sending them? I don't get it? He won't tell me, just gets red in the face and waves me off, but that's really all I get anymore from him." Hurt? Yeah, a little. "He's been at my side for over...a long time, but I don't want to think of him getting even with me." He waved his own hand, "He and Ada have an open relationship, hell I'm not even certain if they know which way is up, but I'm not. Was. Not." Hardly making sense, either way Pere lowered his voice, "I'll skin him, and hang him by his toes if he touches you."


Rosalind

He couldn't just tell Jean-Claude to stop sending gifts. Rosalind felt like laughing at the absurdity of it, but that would have been a very unwise response. She turned to face him, still pondering what she might say, and not quite sure why she wished to keep it from him. She wished to spare Jean-Claude, of course, and if she just told Pere, he might laugh off what happened. Might. "He made a mistake," Rosalind said at last, with a little shrug. "I do not remember now why he had quite so much to drink, but he was unfit for company. He might have made it to bed on his own, but God only knows if he might have fallen on something. He is a frail man," Rosalind added, reaching out to catch the hand Pere was gesturing with, and lacing her fingers with his. "Now he is more penitent than usual, that is all. I am afraid we all do silly things when drunk. Most of us have had too much to recall what those things are, but Jean-Claude does not seem the sort to forget." Anything. Mind like a steel trap. It was a lesson learned, not to get too deep in cups with a mad scientist. "Do you really think Jean.... Do you think I could? Peregrine." She narrowed her eyes on him.


Peregrine

"He's not that frail." Peregrine snorted as he forced her to continue the walk, taking her hand. "I don't know what to think. You tell me how you would feel if a very wealthy woman, whose family could buy out the crown of France, started sending me a flower a day? It's different when, those flowers are actually plants and gowns..necklaces, bracelets." His heart hurt a thousand times for reasons that she would never understand, and he felt himself want to throw up. "He wouldn't tell me, and you tried to hide from him." A smile pulled on his lips, "What could he not get it up? They say that too much wine does that to a man." He wouldn't know, he hated the stuff. "He has always been attracted to you." Truth. Jean-Claude had always held a special place in his heart for Rosalind, but for reasons he shared with none.


Rosalind

"How could you think, for one second, we would ever be in a position to find out whether he is the sort to be so affected by wine, Peregrine, you are insulting me in your jealousy!" She seethed, going from embarrassment to outrage in just a few seconds. Normally quite well-balanced, he had the effect of turning her into a shrew, letting go of their hands together to throw her own skyward in a Gallic gesture of defeat. "You think because he has an open relationship -- whatever on earth that means -- he would throw himself upon any witting woman because he has had a few cups of wine? Disgusting. If you must know, there was no throwing. There was much falling. It was all very awkward and I prefer not to recall it, as he managed to land on something soft. Me. It is not necessary to make such a big issue of it as you have, when have I ever given you cause for jealousy?" Her words seemed to blend into one another in her schoolbook French, though when she stopped, she almost started laughing again. When had she gone from the perfect lady wife of a respected chieftain to one who gave men green eyes? Meurig's intervention in setting her up with a suitable partner sprang immediately to mind, and she rather wished it didn't. "So, there it is."


Peregrine

"I can't help it, Rosalind." He snapped right back, "I'm afraid. I do everything in my power to keep you, and I keep waiting for someone to wake me up. Hell," He ran a hand through his hair to keep the fallen strands from his face, but knowing it no good to tie it again. "I got jealous of Fearghus and I knew you hated him. You asked me to wait, that your son's life...but..I..just..heard him. I sat outside your window and listened to him.." His hands clasped together, and his teeth nearly tore the other set away from his mouth with the way they clenched together. "You almost sounded like you enjoyed it, and that changed everything. Just goes to show you how sick I am." Twisted perhaps. "You don't have to give me any reason, I find it well enough on my own." What was with the sea that turned people so? Harshly. "Colban, when you left with him the first time when I killed your husband, and the second when you were mad at me. God damn it Rosalind, I get jealous of the moon in your hair. So you tell me..what was I to think? Though leave it to Jean-Claude to mess it all up. He really doesn't do drunk well." He snorted closing his lips together as he narrowed his eyes on her, "And I'll not even bring UP that...heathen, Norseman." There was enough bitterness in that bite of his words that could very well be comical. It was almost noble of him, how he stood his ground, argued with her reason and complete truth--like a noble person...really?


Rosalind

"When?" she asked quietly. "When you were sitting outside our window and listening. When did it sound as though I enjoyed what that man did to me? And with my hands burned, and my son...." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Did you think I would sleep with Colban, or anyone, while the castle around us was burning? You are jealous, of course -- I cannot be such a hypocrite, I was jealous that Ealora could say such words to you that she did tonight, it is unfair. But be rational, Peregrine. I never have been unfaithful to you, and I never would be. We have our disagreements, we fight, we make mistakes, but that is not a mistake I have ever made." She frowned. "You were to think it is what I say it is. It was a mistake, one I sincerely wish Jean-Claude would view as the same, and that you would have some faith in me for once that I will not fall into bed with any man who looks at me twice." She smiled then. "And even if I do, know I was only thinking of how inconvenient it was, when I wanted to be home with you."


Peregrine

"It's not fair of me to think like this Rosalind, it's not. You were having my child, and I was unfaithful. I can't tell you how sorry I am, but at the same time..if you could have just felt it...Somewhere you knew. You had to know. Genna, wasn't a mistake, but I was still a child when I met my first wife. I didn't know what heartache was like, I had never been told no. We had our little country life, and a very deep real love, a daughter named Emma." The only thing missing was an Aldric. "Every night, I held her close listening to the wind outside the trees, in our little house in the hills. It was pure, what they spoke of in stories. Have you ever felt that? Ever? You were sold like cattle to the Scotch, finally learned to love him, then when he was dead traded." He shook his head, not knowing who he'd go back in time to kill first, those men or the one who came into the garden that one night. "It started with a bracelet." He didn't close off but the feeling inside his chest ached, this was the story that started it all. All the blood lust, the deaths, the man she saw before her today was who he was because of this one event. "When she left, it wasn't for long, but things were never the same. When she left for good, I knew I'd never be the same. I hadn't known what it would be like to be in a forest so quiet. It's torture. I'm finding myself again, Rosie. I like this feeling. I love you, and our life. If you left, I can honestly say I'd die."


Rosalind

"I didn't know I had it, until he told me the child wasn't his," Rosalind said softly. Joscelin, who had never had a chance. He would have been Domhnall's son. If he'd had patience, if he'd understood, if his head had not been full of gossip. If Domhnall had spent more time with her, if he had talked to her, if. She didn't like defending herself. She had a long history of not being believed. And Peregrine had his, too. His wife had left him, broken his heart, destroyed his dream. It wasn't fair, but these were the ghosts that haunted them both. "I told you to go," Rosalind said, lifting her shoulders briefly. They never talked about this. It was their most important trial, bigger even than Meurig's matchmaking, and they never spoke of it. "I knew you loved me, but I am not her. You came back to me. Maybe another woman would be jealous, or spiteful, but you came back. That child, maybe I should care more that it has entered the world, but I do not. I should, because she is yours. I told you to go, but it does not mean I have to like that you went. The child is a reminder. And she is not mine." The words were not as harsh as they might have seemed upon paper, but they were truth, and she glanced at Peregrine as if hoping he wouldn't hate her for saying it. "We have been to hell and back. You would think we might trust one another with our hearts. I do. Even when you left, you were careful not to break mine. The true story is us, Pere, I know this. It is not a child's fantasy of what love should be like. Love is many things, but it is never simple. And I will not break your heart," she finished, suddenly feeling as if she had been speaking all night. It was wearying.

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Peregrine

He had sent for his family, pressing them to come to the castle, and sent word of Eirian's capture. The wait had been in vain, finding idle time as the day came to a close once more, and the General burning down his back to have the ship ready. However, the Lee had been out of commission, she was not equipped or a crew hired--these things took time. Somewhere between the frantic hours of the day, the visions, and the feeling that tore through him like a hurricane, Peregrine had dreamed of the Lady of the Valley. She was not on Avaria, but the blood thirsty hounds would never have believed Hope. They would never stand a chance against the Captain's words, but the pirate worked hard to keep the answers vague. Tiring times indeed, found him awake from a small nap in the old Lamont suite, and never had it felt more like home. Genevieve's nightmares reflected in his own, but never did he wake up crying. Did she feel the same fear he did at such a young age, did she even know? Peregrine would slip from the covers, with the pounding of the door; doing up his laces rather quickly, before the door came bursting from the seams.


Rosalind

They came to the castle with all due haste. Memory being a powerful thing, but Rosalind's pragmatism out-ruling even ghosts, she rather liked it here. With new furnishings and better memories, there was little to fear as she settled Polly into the carriage. Aldric was doing his best not to squirm, but he failed to trust that Sax would trot alongside the Lamont men, and not beneath the hooves of the clansmen's horses. Polly chattered away in a constant stream-of-consciousness that set Rosalind's nerves on the edge of fraying, and she was glad that by the time they arrived, the gentle swaying of the carriage had rocked her to sleep. She carried Polly in, her daughter's arms wrapped around her neck, and went directly toward their suites, where both children were left to sleep while Rosalind settled a few matters that had been awaiting her return. Sax following Rosalind, as his favorite boy was unfortunately unconscious, they stopped in the gardens n the way back, Rosalind laughing when she saw the fig tree planted and thriving. It did not quite match the crabapple the Lamonts had gifted Beathag so many years ago, but she now had a tradition of bestowing trees upon her leader, and she briefly touched the thorny-looking branches in greeting and farewell as she turned back toward her suite.


Peregrine

The fig tree would find the rain no longer of the wet spring rush, but now the very glasswork Peregrine had put in so many years back. It was a masterpiece like some great church hall, that colored the carpets when the sunset each night. The sounds of the pirate's cry came with the reason the glass shattered--being his head that broke it. Out the window his upper body dangled held by the hands of the General's interrogator, and all the way up the stairs the servants stood in shock listening to the scuffle, and the Griffin guard stood like mountains so none should pass. "She's not..in Avaria." Peregrine was livid, his blood was on the carpets..Rosalind was going to kill him.


Maahes

"How do you know? Am I to believe her daughter tells you this? You are hiding something, you do not want me to go..You have put off the sail..why?" Maahes boomed down to the man who was held now to his knees, fuming. The broken bodies of the few good men, had seen the best of him, but Pere was out numbered. "Do not give me that line, of family boy, I know better now. What is in Avaria you hide? Eirian?" The mouth of the pirate nearly had him up off the floor with his anger. He hated them all in this moment.


Rosalind

Men barred her way home. She stood before them, Muhammad facing the mountain, and slowly placed both of her hands upon the rounded head of her cane. Women held an important role in Skye, that could not be challenged. They had dared to rise against a time cruel to their children and loved ones. They led clans. They had picked up arms and armaments and fought like a man. Perhaps it was an oddity in the general trend of history. No matter, of the few that walked these halls, Beathag and her constant lady-in-waiting Rosalind were among those who would make the Griffin men stand down. They knew better than to face Inveryne. Whether rumor was true was no matter; they had seen for themselves the power she held in Scotland. And as a Duchess of the autonomous Auvergne, she was foreign royalty. Should she raise a sword to them, it was an act of war to return in kind. It was not Lady Inveryne facing them now, but Auvergne, who briefly raised her cane and waved for them to part. Understandably, the mountain did not move. So very efficiently, she swung her cane hard toward the neck of the nearest guard, and stopped with the smooth wood resting against his neck. "Stand aside," she said coolly. And the mountain moved. She stepped through the remnants of her door, and minced between the legs of a man in Lamont colors. She raised her eyes to the General. "Release my husband, Lord General. You cannot use the guard to further such ends; release him, and I will speak on your behalf when this matter comes before Their Majesties. But I have been waiting since my husband was eventually returned to me more bruised than I have seen him in some time -- you may hold on to him if you wish, I think I will enjoy this."


Peregrine

"This is not about Eirian..or me, Maahes. This is about your wife. Your wife that I let free, gave the courage to leave you." Peregrine spit blood over the man's face, as he hissed like a cobra being detained. "Beat it out of me, do as you wish. I'm man enough not to fight you back in your madness. She's not in Avaria and you know it, and you'll only die there. She's not the same as she was you damn fool." The sounds of steps of his wife, could not be mistaken--there were only two people in this world that made the tapping of a walking stick sound like the drums of war. It really was a scary sound.


Maahes

"Don't play your games, Pirate. They don't work on me." Rosalind wasn't expected, nor the tone in her voice as he had always seen her a weak soul, and took to the side of Feargus. Really that man kept her where he should have, Maahes could respect that. There was a bit of madness behind him, but Maahes thought with a clear head. "Take him to hold." When the Lady Inveryne would make herself known Maahes turn on her, "Your husband is under arrest for plot of treason against the crown, assist in kidnap, and theft." Maahes would move just a hair forward, "For the murder of hundreds of lives, and the destruction of royal property." Looking around the room, at the bodies that were upon the floor he would shake his head, "And resisting arrest. I could go on for days." A raise of his hand would motion one guard to press the hilt of his blade against the pirate's neck, "You might want to shield your children's eyes, Lady Inveryne. Heretics catch fire before they die."


Rosalind

"You misuse your power, Lord General, and if the charges against my husband are true, at least he will have company in jail," she said, her voice as warm as the North Atlantic in January. Ice flows moved across the below freezing waters, and placid as her expression was, her hand had very subtly changed its grip that it might use the cane more effectively if he merely gave her reason. She had learned, at nearly the cost of her life, never to make the first move with him. "I was given to believe in this land all were subject to the rule of law, and that violators have the right to petition their chieftains and nobility on local lands for grievances, that landowners may judge crimes, and finally, that no person shall be held to answer for capital punishment without a hearing by the Lord Griffon. Give me a reason, Lord General," she said at last, meeting him directly in the eye. It was difficult to regard him without seeing the friendly ways he had shared with Fearghus, without the minor betrayal she had felt at his loyalty to her husband when she had set his mind at ease on those long walks through the castle halls while he worried for the safety of his wife. Fearghus had set a boar upon her, and that failing, had made her son watch while he shoved her hand into a blazing fire. There was a world of difference between the love and duty of a husband and his wife, and the bond that had nominally held Fearghus and Rosalind together.


Maahes

For a long moment he was quiet, figuring the words Rosalind spoke so proudly, and so defiant. In truth he envied the pirate sometimes, knowing well Rosalind knew her place in this world. He hated these laws here, so civil. However, when his hand fell so did the blade at the pirate's neck, and the guards' hands that held the pirate. "Let it be known, I sail for Avaria without you, and I will tear that land apart to find her, even if I have to burn the forest out." With that Peregrine's face fell, Galen had been the only other to know of the peaceful tribe there, he and now Rosalind. Maahes knew, or he wouldn't have spoke those words. Closing the distance between he and Rosalind he would look down to her, hot air to follow from his press of breath. "Petition your chieftains, Lamont, you'll need them when I return.


Peregrine

Pere held his tongue, the dangers rose with the arrival of his wife, and he used the back of his hand to wipe at his nose, the blood starting to clot. "He's insane." He feared greatly for that isle, but suddenly could have cared less. Eirian was still gone, and his loyalty remained with his family. "Get them out of here..they are not dead." He spoke to the Lamont men who had come to assist where they can, and pull the bodies of the General's men. "Great men don't find themselves on the same level as that, Aldric, so you don't fight back." Though...there were a few broken men? That side was hard to kill, but the pirate was working on it. The men at arms would pull from the room, and the Lee would be surrendered at the cost of the window. "He's blind." The moon showered through the open world now, and Pere spoke to it. "She's not on Avaria. He'll get there and turn right around...Rosalind?" Had his wife even moved?


Rosalind

"And pray you are in favor when you do, for my men will be waiting to collect upon your warrant, my lord," she replied civilly, barely lifting her chin to meet his gaze. When Peregrine spoke to her, she pushed past Maahes and went to her husband. Movement rippled through the room as men were shifted, revealing stained carpets and damaged furniture. It could all be replaced. Peregrine, and Avaria, could not. "I hope that he does. I hope that he finds her, that someone finds her, Pere, but this needs to end." She glanced back toward the door. "It will not end in a courtroom," she added darkly, and then returned her gaze to him. Spotting Aldric, though, she held out her hand for her son's, and pulled him in. Thank all that was good and holy, Polly could sleep through the apocalypse. She would personally gut Maahes if Polly saw violence at such a young age. That she had no compunctions against such punishment was merely sign of her rather brutal coming of age, and Polly -- though mischievous -- was innocent and would remain that way for as long as Rosalind had breath in her.

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Jean-Claude

He hated Scotland. He hated with such a passion, that his afternoon walk had turned into an old man filtered under the leaves of the trees to wait until the rain passed so he could continue his walk. Jean-Claude, you really need more country air, they said--and the house that Peregrine built was not too far a journey. He cursed himself, miserably cold having left his overcoat. The day had started out such a delight, but the instant the morning fog cleared the sun's warmth was swallowed by a hazy mist of rain. Somewhere half way between the manner, and the city he had given up allowing the mud to rise over his boots, but cursing the entire way. Finally upon the porch he would shiver as he ran his fingers through his hair to squeeze out the water; the black strands seemed as if they were made of oil, but curled slightly with the beads of rain rolling off the tips. "Boules de chevaux..." He cursed, simply sick with the weather and knowing well he would not go in like this decided to plant himself on the railing of he porch in hopes he would not catch his death, but in the moment he welcomed it. It was simply a walk..and he was having a good hair day.


Rosalind

The day had started out in that beautiful, slightly-sodden way of Scotland. Clouds scudded past the sun, and for just long enough to make an absolute error in judgment, beautiful golden rays of light illuminated the hills and forests of her property. The sea remained a stone gray, certain clue to any but one who refused to set foot upon a seagoing vessel, but Rosalind mounted her favorite horse, looped a quiver of bows over her shoulder, and took Sax with her on a hunt. The damned mutt wasted most of his energy bounding through the trees, crashing through underbrush and startling whatever game Rosalind might have encountered. He flushed birds hundreds of yards out and well beyond her range, and occasionally came trotting back, long pink tongue dangling out of his mouth, as if asking what took her so long. It was difficult to fault the dog, Rosalind decided at last. She would bound out into the wilderness too, given half a chance. Unlike Sax, she wouldn't come trotting back seeking approval. The thought made her laugh, just as the skies opened up and dumped upon them all, her prissy horse suddenly coming to a dead stop before a large puddle of mud, and refusing to budge until she found the driest path onward. "Sax!" she called for the dog, wrapping the leather straps around her hand and drawing two fingers of the other to her lips to whistle. No sign of the dog's coat, but she heard crashing nearby, followed by a low woof as he encountered something new. They turned back to the house, Rosalind raising the hood of her coat over her head, though she was clearly soaked, water streaming frm the end of the long thick braid draped over her left shoulder. Sax came trotting into the yard well before Rosalind, and promptly collapsed at Jean-Claude's feet. Squinting through the rain, Rosalind could only make out a dark-clad figure sitting upon her porch, and very calmly knocked an arrow, and raised her bow again. "Hail, stranger. This is the private property of Her Grace, the Princess of Corsica. Who goes there?"


Jean-Claude

"Bonjour chien," He spoke through his brooding manner at the dog that, a sinking depression had stolen what cheerful greeting he would have offered the dog. A raised brow would be all, they had fleas. "Kill me now!" He called out with a small glance over his shoulder, "This rain has ruined my boots. I have little to live for." He stood then, the tall thin frame hardly mistaken though it was raining. With a smile his hands came to his hips as he regarded her slowly, "Mon dieu, Rosalind, you absolutely look medieval." What had the country life done to her? Princess indeed, no doubt any moment Peregrine would come down the stairs in green tights. For a moment there the figures silence had his heart stop, though he could not have been mistaken...so few had hair as she. Raising his hands he would surrender rather easily unwilling to see this day end, even if the Italian leather would never be the same. Sax barked at Rosalind, and Jean-Claude would offer a smirk with a small raise of his brow. He had a way of taking up with animals, though he wondered if the dog was simply laughing at the greeting as well. Peregrine, no doubt would never believe him, for he felt his wife always sitting at home sewing; she lead a double life it seemed. At the citation of the title, he would straighten his posture soaked or not, "I am but a humble servant come to seek refuge from the city, and a fool who thought it a good day for a walk." With that he would offer his proper bow at the hip, but the soaked lace around his wrists seemed to offer little life--pity as it was his trademark.


Rosalind

She of course lowered the bow immediately, pulling the arrow free and sliding it over her shoulder into the quiver without needing to look. The bow followed as she dismounted. "Jean-Claude, I am so sorry, I could not tell it was you. Though I should have known Sax would not lay himself down at the feet of enemies," she offered, her voice too dry to determine humor, though it was there for any who knew what Colban jokingly called the "beastie." He did not compare to the stories of monsters and famous heroes he wove for Aldric on their occasional excursions, but the dog now split his time between sleeping next to Rosalind's side of the bed and jumping onto Aldric's, preferably while her son was still asleep. A servant rushed out to grab her reins, which she handed off with relief. Her horse was an impossible queen, and though it was nice to see such personality in an animal, she had been butting heads with that personality for hours in deplorable weather. It was not ladylike to curse, but the thoughts running through Rosalind's head managed to darken her hazel eyes as she watched the horse's behind vanish into the barn. She walked toward the porch, finding a dry place to rest her hunting gear, and removed her rain-sodden cloak. The waxed coating had held up well for the first hour, she thought rather mournfully with a look down at her rather simple dress, the sleeves bound at the elbows with cording, the waist defined by the same material, the fabric left loose so that she could take her preferred seat astride. The hem was covered nearly up to the knee in mud and stuck-on leaves. She grabbed the end of her braid and wrung the water from it over the side of the railing, then when she felt herself somewhat decent, turned toward Jean-Claude. "My most profound apologies. That was a thoroughly inhospitable greeting even by my standards, mon ami, why do you not come inside, and have something to warm you up?"


Jean-Claude

"I am not so certain Lady Hunter that your mutt would know an enemy from a friend." He was certain that dog would wag his tail even in the face of danger, "And I am surprised that you even still have him. I thought for certain he was not to survive the winter, I begged Peregrine to leave him be, but you see he was trying to win the heart of a most beloved son.. annoy you I'm sure." A thin smile pulled over his lips, "It really was such a shock the way he took to you.." Speaking of Peregrine or the dog, he was not certain he could tell the difference. "Your Grace, what would your father think of you now? No, I will not step foot inside your beautiful home like this, but go..go get dry and warm, and return to speak with me on a matter of great importance." Weren't they all? He shivered for a moment as he felt a drop of rain fall down his spine. "I am not certain even wine could save me from this, and compared to our last meeting I'm not willing to try." As he collected himself, it was very hard to see the man known throughout the land under the state he was in; raven's feathers ruffled and all. Sax would pick that moment to shake, and Jean-Claude would only close his eyes as the mud from the dog's coat splattered up his front, and over his face lightly--figures. He would roll his head back with laughter then, having simply lost it, and soon tears would collect in his eyes from reaching his end, a mock of the heavens; could this day get any worse? Even the dog would think him crazy then, as Jean-Claude used the edge of his sleeve to dab at his eyes and cover his smile. "Oh merciful heavens, this must be a sign." A sign he would not be buying a home in the country.


Rosalind

“Sax," Rosalind said, shocked and appalled at the dog's behavior, and hearing nothing of Jean-Claude staying out on the porch, shooed the dog back out into the yard to roll around in a mud puddle and the scientist into the house. They were equally covered in mud. A little more would not hurt. She had the maid usher Jean-Claude into a guest bedroom, where a bucket of hot water and warm towels awaited. They had no clothes in Jean-Claude's size save an old tunic of Colban's that had somehow made it into the wash and had yet to be returned, and a very, very large pair of pants that the maid offered with an apologetic belt. Rosalind, meanwhile, washed herself up as much as she could, changed into warm clothes, and came back down the stairs still rubbing the water out of her hair, which had already started to curl wildly around the top of her head, but without the shine and organization of Jean-Claude's lover's. She would meet him back upon the porch regardless, a tray bearing two large mugs in her hands. "I would not permit wine between us in any event," she offered wryly, "but I am told brewed chicory is growing in popularity in the courts." She took a seat with a bit too much distance between them, the mug between her hands, keeping a wary eye out for Sax, while rather adeptly avoiding Jean-Claude's. "I tell you now, I am weary of dire news. But I do not think you went for a little stroll in this weather to tell me something of no consequence."


Jean-Claude

"Ah, you have even brought me slippers." He smiled to the help, charming them as ever though ushering them off for privacy. He kept himself covered all the while making his way back down pulling the robe around himself that had once been a Yule gift to Peregrine, but he had not once used it--he should have known. This, was the one thing his life in the city missed, and already he felt his eyes heavy with the peace and relaxation of a country life. "Thank you." He spoke out of his silence, curling the mug to him he suddenly fell silent as he watched the rain collect in a puddle around the stairs. He looked his age for a moment before passing his attention back to her, and drawing his eyes outward to the trees. "Are you happy here?" Came a question not of his natural. "Rosalind, I mean really. Is this the life you always thought you would have?" It seemed so out of his norm to ask such a thing, but with the journey to England only a day or so away he suddenly grew worried of leaving this life behind. Would he even come back? Something felt so right when he thought of his travels, and the words from Ada of how she grew weary of it startled him. "If your husband asked you to pack and leave would you go?" Turning to look at her, he was surprised again she still had trouble meeting his gaze, and sat up. "Rosalind..really..please put that night behind us. You are going to start breaking my heart. It was not so bad. You kept your clothes." Though a flush rose to his face even thinking of the subject, and he quickly rushed his eyes somewhere else..anywhere else.


Rosalind

She gave an amused "hmm" at seeing his flush, and raised the mug of chicory coffee to her lips, blowing steam outward across the surface. The rain started and stopped, the silences more glaring when Sax would run across the yard barking at the local wildlife. She slid her eyes to meet Jean-Claude. "People ask me this, perhaps I have worn my mask well, for they do not seem to realize I was born in a place not very different from this. Our walls were higher, for one," she noted, glancing out into the trees where the edges of Beauquesne might be. "I have only dwelt in places such as this. Castles, they are too busy, too noisy. Even in the middle of the night, they hum with institutional activity -- the murmur of servants, the guards' feet upon the flagstones, horses in the stables, lives being lived in private rooms. The smell is more tolerable here, Jean-Claude." She glanced at him again. "I am. I am very happy here. It is what I wish in a home. My family surrounds me. I am in Scotland. I despised this place at first. I hated my husband, my clan. They were all so backward, and I did not understand their ways or their speech. Their way of dress was absurd, their food deplorable. The weather. Well, a thousand years may pass, and the poets will have yet to adequately describe the weather here." She smiled slowly. "England's is not much better, surely you know. And Peregrine has already asked me. Perhaps we will go. I think he would like me to leave this place, and prove I do not sit beside windows and stitch all day."


Jean-Claude

“It is so strange to think of Peregrine grounded, but at one point in his life this was what he was raised in; even before the Gypsies. He lived in a village not far from here, a little further from the coast. A good days ride." Did she know this? "He would only talk about it when he I was stitching him closed in his cabin. Left on the doorstep of the village carpenter, a blessing because that man's wife could not bare children. It is where he learned to construct such marvelous structures such as this. Really he could make a living." Jean-Claude never minded to talk of her husband, knowing more often then not Perry kept quiet. "Though he hardly remembers anything. Tragedy struck that village, scarred him pretty deeply. Somehow over the years I have put together it was perhaps his fault. This is the news that I bring with me unfortunately." Jean-Claude closed his hands over his chest as he leaned back in the chair, the mug forgotten at his side. "With the assigning of new law, I worry now the fate of the Underdark. I..had a dream, and it ended much the same as that village. Rosalind, please do not think me a heretic, but pulling him away now would be the best...or perhaps even keeping him here. You know that I have only love for your husband, but I see this getting very ugly. Are you aware he gave the keys to Ealora? I do not see the Lord General putting up with much from her, and he's always had it out for Peregrine. With good reason of course." He went silent for a moment, watching the forest for a moment.


Rosalind

"I did not know the details, no," Rosalind said quietly, setting her own mug aside as she listened. "I cannot keep him here, he is not a dog to be leashed to a peg in the wall." She shrugged briefly, though even she would not discuss with Jean-Claude how she hated it when Peregrine did not come home. He wished to keep her safe. He wished to keep worry from her life. She understood why he did it, but it was unspeakably fair to shut her out. She worried anyway, and with good reason. Peregrine attracted trouble like a magnet iron filings. "The Lord General, though he has made his amends for what happened years ago, would best stay away from my family. I will wage war upon him if he thinks to harm my husband again. The actions of that wife of his would be taken with or without Peregrine to enable; the next punch that is thrown I cannot guarantee his safety. Or freedom." She glowered briefly, but Jean-Claude was right. If she could not keep Peregrine at home, and it was not her duty to do so, England seemed a pragmatic alternative. "Do you think Adelaide and Genevieve are safe, if this goes as badly as you claim?"


Jean-Claude

“Oh such hostility Rosalind, isn't very becoming." He teased offering her a look, "Adelaide has very little to do with the Underdark, and you can count on my vote to see it destroyed. After what happened with Genevieve so help me, I'll use them all to make new boots. I simply worry is all, he seems so happy, but holds onto it as if at any moment it's all going to break away." His eyes would rise once again to the forest where the sound of footsteps broke through the foliage, and a very wet pirate made his way up the path. Jean-Claude would make a sound when he saw the figure emerge wearing the plaid of the Lamont, and hardly anything else. Somehow, Peregrine even made kilts nearly scandalous. Mud had been splattered across his body in lines to help him blend with the forest, and the bow that crossed his bare chest was in fact key to dead buck he carried over his shoulders. "Was he aware you were hunting as well?" Rosalind would not have woke up to her husband, so the hunt had been started in the early hours of the morning, and this would have been his first kill. It appeared someone was out of practice. Met halfway through the yard by the cook, she would have the dead animal moved off for the kitchen, and Pere would narrow his eyes at the pair of them. He kept his voice in check, but the silence was never a good sign.


Peregrine

Out from under the foliage of the trees the rain started to wash away the mud, and somewhere beneath there was in fact a man. Passing his eyes between the two of them, he wouldn't mutter a single word as he sat back against the railing crossing his arms over his chest as he bore his gaze into her own.


Rosalind

“Not becoming, but hardly beneath me," Rosalind said fairly, but her words quieted when she saw the man emerging from the trees. Who would expect it of him, save Rosalind? A smile slowly spread across her face, but it vanished when he failed to say a word to her. She knew he was jealous, and angry, but she would not defend her honor to yet another man, particularly when that honor was completely intact -- and that man damned well knew it. And yet she would still stab Maahes if he came anywhere near Peregrine. "The whole forest knew I was out hunting," she offered, starting with some difficulty, but lapsing into her usual dry humor. "Sax is a very vocal dog, and enjoyed himself thoroughly. Likely his barking made Peregrine's hunt somewhat more difficult than usual. The whole forest must have been put in motion with our graceless romping through the woods." She rested her gaze upon her husband's, and with a slight shrug, but a rather infamous leveling of her chin, offered a smile and a polite, "Thank you. I am glad the children like venison, today's weather calls for stew."


Peregrine

"That was you?" He asked quietly, his voice a bit raspy from not being used in the day. The cold shoulder pulled away and he would nod his head in Jean-Claude's direction, "Nice robe." Jean, would smile and suddenly Pere felt rather foolish. He wasn't her type anyway, and by the end of the night they would kill each other. Sax was begging for attention, until Peregrine finally gave in taking a seat on the step. Jean-Claude watched for a moment his heart warming as the weather seemed to break, and his hand came out to touch Rosalind's, think about what I said. He silently spoke before rising to see to his clothing and leaving the pair of them together. "Oh, good boy. At least you know how to greet your master who just spent most of the night and morning making up for someone making it hard to get the game." He grinned as the dog would happily kiss the face of the pirate, until he was forced back down. A roll of his shoulders kept the cold away that he so rarely felt, and he turned to look at his content wife. "Enjoying your day honey? Out in the woods? Without me?" Well..with him.


Rosalind

"I didn't make it difficult, he did," Rosalind said, mildly offended at the suggestion. Though Sax was so exhausted by his day out in the woods, it was difficult to imagine the boundless energy he'd used to frighten off the birds and deer, now on his back, head flung back, and tongue hanging out. It seemed like a good idea to Rosalind, whose body had just started to ache with the exhaustion of riding all day, but at least she had the benefit of chicory coffee, a washing, and a change of clothes to make her feel somewhat more human. "I would greet you, but ... wet wool. It is not my most favorite fragrance," she offered diplomatically, reaching for the carafe and topping off Jean-Claude's mug and handing it to Peregrine. She took a seat beside him on the step, and at least kissed his cheek, though he really did smell worse than the woods. And like dead deer. For a man who did not eat meat, it was quite a sacrifice for him to make. He would be thanked later that evening, if she could stay awake.


Peregrine

"Yeah, but I thought you liked me in a kilt?" He grinned, leaning in to return her kiss, thankful for the mug. Though he wasn't a fan really, just the warmth between his fingers was enough to lift his spirits. His free hand would go to scratch the dog's stomach. Jean-Claude, returned with a towel and his own clothes feeling like a man once again as he wrapped the linen over the shoulders over the pirate. He would bid them all good evening and head back out with the day. "We'll need a new dog to go hunting with. Aldric has him spoiled." Yeah. Aldric. Going quiet for a moment, he pondered his next words carefully. "Heard Neil was coming to town, thought I'd prepare him a dinner." Was she aware that there was motion on that front again? "Something is shifting with the Clans, Rosalind, we gonna sit this one out? Or you feel like jumping in?" Was this a thirst for blood? It seemed to be, though he had often thought of killing that man while he slept.


Rosalind

"Mm, and who is to say Aldric will not spoil the new dog?" She knew him well, and sliding her eyes to meet his made her chuckle. She did like him in a kilt, and it did not look so strange as one might think to find him in one. Pere enjoyed his freedom, and that he could wear a towel, blanket, and clothes out of one garment was all he seemed to need in life, as long as she was there to take shelter there with him. He also wore his far lower on his hips than any Scot, which Rosalind had to admit was not difficult to look at, at all. "I wonder if we should remain in Scotland at all. Bolster Inveryne, let southern matters remain southern matters. Kendrew will take Campbell in hand, and Lamont is not rich enough to plunder even should our neighbors think us weak." As for Neil, Rosalind paused, wishing she knew what to do about him. He hadn't caused Lamont any grief that could be proven in a court. Murdering him would only re-initiate hostilities, and she would not risk Lamont or open up old wounds. "Let us leave before he comes. I do not have the patience I once had."


Peregrine

"Mmm, you see I had other plans for the summer." He let his attention fall forward, "We don't have to go anywhere for that. Honey, needs a baby brother after all." He brought his arm around the small of her back letting his warm hand brush over the hem of her skirts. "I don't want all of this to fall on Kendrew, he's not getting any younger and with Laura ready to pop..What if Neil turns? I..don't think leaving is the best option. Not with the newly crowned. Ealora is not well, and with the trouble on the sea. I don't think it's the right time." He gave a heavy yawn, and pressed his temple against her shoulder, "Let's go take a nap."