#maenelle

Maenelle's morning begins the same every day.  There is almost a soothing nature to the ritual in all of it.  She perches at the desk in the villa's office with a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of messages to sort through in the other.  With a mind honed to a fine point by a century of experience, she quickly sorts through the handful of letters and notices, filing each one into the appropriate stack on her desk to be dealt with immediately or later.  One particular letter from Ta'Nalfein places a thoughtful moue on her lips as she breaks the seal and reads through it:

"We write to inform you that the Thistle & Thorn Florist will be unable to complete your order in a timely manner.  Try as we might, we were unable to find the specific short-stemmed tiger lilies you requested.  If you would like to change your order to accommodate tiger lilies with long stems, plucked stems, or ones with unusually shaped petals, please let us know."

The letter gets neatly refolded and placed into a small cedar box, where it joins a jet earcuff already nestled against the velvet interior.   Aloud, she muses, "Knowing where you aren't is the first step to finding where you are.  If Orlaeth didn't linger in Ta'Nalfein, then, where *did* he go?"  

Maenelle takes up a nearby quill and after dipping it in ink, she writes a quick reply:

"Please change my order to include flaming violets and ice tulips, both sourced from their natural environs.  I still require the blooms to be set upon short stems, as the vase I have is of particular shape.  I would appreciate my order's expedition and will pay any additional necessary fees.

In Gratitude, M. Amavirrea"

The next dawn found her awake and still in bed, staring at the warm glow of light just beginning to peek its way into her window.   A determined beam of light progressed slowly across the foot of her bed as the sun gradually climbed up in the sky, creeping ever closer to a lacquered pouch tossed aside the night before.  Unable to put off the moment any longer, she shrugged into a silken robe and upended the pouch's contents into her awaiting palm.  Two objects bounced out; a twisted jet earcuff and a silver-veined mithril signet ring.

She reflected on the first item for the shortest amount of time.  It was an earcuff she had noticed him always wearing from their very first encounter.  Back then was she surprised to see Orlaeth was essentially proclaiming himself for hire?  Not nearly as much of a surprise as she felt now, holding what amounted to a silent statement on his accepted employment.  Practically every Nalfein is embroiled within some manner of subterfuge, and it wasn't terribly shocking to hold evidence in her hand of her cousin diving deeper into a sea of intrigue.  Some merely dabble a toe beneath the waves, but Ryndaer's heirs were simply not known for their caution.  Orlaeth only seemed to be following his nature; or his mother's instruction.

The mithril signet ring caused her some bewilderment.  One thing about Orlaeth, he had a distinct knack for toppling over random pieces every time she thought she had the game board set.  This latest development was no exception.  Her mind worked through the probable meanings; discarding or ruminating over each one until she was left with only a handful of possibilities.

"What game are you playing?" she wondered aloud, slipping the heavy signet ring over her thumb.  It was a thrilling moment to wear this symbolic trifle of family power, and she took her time reveling in the weight of it on her own hand.  Four nights ago in the presence of Sorrah and Menalaues, he had asked her what she wanted, and she had unintentionally spread her hidden ambitions on the table.  Now he presented her with that very thing; de facto control over the Amavirrea ventures.

Whatever Orlaeth's cryptic intent, she vowed in that moment to make it infinitely more difficult to get the signet ring off her finger.  Coming this close to her goals, she wasn't about to fall backwards.  Besides, controlling his portion of the Amavirrea fortunes meant she could easily wipe out her mounting debts from this week long foray into Ta'Illistim.

She dreams of the desert; and is haunted.

Blowing sands.  Scorching winds.  

Torturous heat.  Frozen nights.

When did your character first encounter death?  How did they handle the experience?

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"Bhavi?  Bhavi?"

Worry added a featherlight quiver to her voice as she tried to capture her nursery maid's attention while tugging on a fold of the busy woman's skirt.

"What is wrong my little buttercup?  Shhh, now, shhh.  All these tears are simply unnecessary, they will just put a mess on your face and make your mother angry."

Gentle hands swiped away her tears as Bhavarota's arms wrapped a young Maenelle in a comforting embrace.   Her soothing rocking and shushing sounds seemed to settle the child, as her sobbing eventually tapered off into quiet hiccups and wet sounding sniffles.  It was only after Maenelle had soaked up every ounce of Bhavarota's matronly affections that she pointed over to an elaborate gilded cage taking up a corner of the child's playroom.

"Eiko won't sing for me anymore.  He's just sleeping all the time!" she pouted, while pulling Bhavarota closer to the right side of the room.  Sure enough, true to the child's words, the beautiful oriole was motionless at the cage's bottom.  What remained of a sugar-dusted pinwheel cookie found nearby would seem to be an unlikely culprit in any other place; except here in Ta'Nalfein where intrigue is often served up with breakfast.

Bhavarota kept her voice unnaturally calm as she asked, "Buttercup, where did you find this cookie?  It wasn't served at tea time."  A sudden slice of fear had the nursery maid tighten her hold on Maenelle's arm and yank her back from the cage.  A different fear, the kind born of a child's innocence, caused the young girl to avert her dark eyes and stubbornly refuse to speak.

Falling to one knee and gathering the girl in close, Bhavarota softened her tone and changed her tactic, "Sweetling, it is only that it looks to be such a delicious cookie and I would like one for myself."  Her lie fell imperfectly from her lips, quivering in all the wrong places as she did her best to hide the pastry’s nefarious implications from her charge.

Burying her face into the maid's shoulder, Maenelle admitted her guilt, "Aunt Tanyl sent them, but I wasn't supposed to eat any before supper."  She looks for redemption in Bhavarota's expression as she quickly tries to assuage her conscience, "I didn't eat one, Bhavi!  I didn't break my promise! I just- I just took one for Eiko, that's all."

Prim and proper, in a near perfect image of the woman she'll grow into, Maenelle added, "I will wait until after supper.  I gave my word."

The maid practically crumbles forward, once more wrapping Maenelle in a tight embrace and smothering kisses all over the child's face.  The moment passes all too soon for Maenelle, who is left like a dry sponge having not soaked up enough rain from a sudden downpour.

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“O at MVi reported T leaving S’s room early morning.  Paid xx2 bonus for silence.”

“S&FC shopping.  Clothier district.  3 bolts. 2 seamstress.”

“O sighted T&S at T'I airship docks. 1m.”

“T&S left SG.  Ret. 4m later.  Wet.”

“S dinner alone.  Pheasant, greens, white Vaalorian wine.”

“S&FC shopping.  Imports district.  Chocolate. Coffee.”

“S & Dw.  Meet at MGI.  2m.  Goods exchanged.  Small pouch.”

“T&S. Witnessed perusing documents at MGI. 1m.”

“S&FC shopping.  Perfumery.  Public baths.”

“T&S appt w/ TC.  Please advise.”

A discreet tap-tap-tap at the door is followed by an unseen shuffling sound, then footsteps fading down the hall.  When the door is opened, a beautiful bouquet of white geraniums is revealed.  Arranged in a tall celadon vase, the blossoms have been recently picked at their peak and each one is a pristine shade of white.  A dark green ribbon tied around the vase compliments the vibrant green of the spindly stems.  With no card or signature, the only indication of the sender is a single buttercup tucked into the ribbon's bow.