#bain.01

It has been hours since Isolde settled upon the ground and began weeding, and it is only the awareness that dawn approaches that stops her from continuing further. A sigh is held tenderly on her chest as she moves to stand, and she carefully brushes the dirt clinging at her skirt. The physical exertion had helped her well, yet for all that she is now far more relaxed than she had been when she started, she remains without a good solution to her troubles. The danger they are to face is not yet named, the perpetrators of the fire not yet known. There is no possible way for her to be fully prepared to protect her family, when the answers she seeks are half-given. 

Another sigh leaves her, and she turns to exit the garden, when her eyes fall upon a figure that is not quite familiar yet not quite known. She knows of Bain Solkarith, if only because she is aware of his house’s pact with House Athlyan. The arranged marriage is such an old piece of gossip, most do not bother mentioning it often, yet it is the sort of gossip that she carefully pays attention to for she is to judge whether such a union is worthy of her house’s fruits or not. Yet for all that Isolde avoids politics, she is also aware that denying House Athlyan and House Solkarith of an appropriate festivity would be foolish. 

“Lord Solkarith,” she greets with a curtsy. “Enjoying the last few hours before dawn?”