On an late-morning brunch in the extravagant dining room of the Haillenarte Manor, brothers Fallicent and Dieudonne enjoy a fine meal while addressing the incoming crawl of their sister, Corrina…
“You have been keeping later and later hours, little Corrie,” Dieudonne’s voice is a conundrum of wonder and concern, the tease gentle on his tongue as all eyes in the room turn towards the incoming, robed Elezen woman. A fresh collaboration of fruits is spread in a kaleidoscope of colors, apple reds mixed with grapes green lavished beautifully on the top of the table. Sliced oranges are passed over towards Corrina as she settles, her favorite.
“Have you been noticing her latest dresses? Its little wonder why she’s been returning home so late,” Fallicent’s younger, more outgoing tone cracks through with a wily smile to spread over his features. “Our dear Corrie has finally joined the ranks of the scandalous.”
“It has all been business and nothing further, Fallie.” Such nonsense is promptly dismissed by the weary Corrina, who settles at the table. There are dark circles underneath her eyes, and a line of worry that’s well on its well to be permanently edged to the side of her mouth if she could not cease her frowning soon enough.
“Come, Donnie, tell her how wonderous she’s been looking lately – why, draped in all black as if she’s a wicked madame seeking to find such naughty pleasures in the street,” Fallicent does not relent, however – his chin resting within the open palm of his hand, amused. The smirk on his face is suggestive that he knows all of her dark secrets, hidden behind the façade of professionalism that she holds up – and there is an undeniable thump within her heart at the accusatory tease that’s sent in her direction.
“Our Corrie would never,” Dieudonne quickly interjects, his demure grace passing over what appeared to be a warmed kettle of coffee towards his sister. “I doubt she’s even kissed a man, let alone stalk the streets of Foundation or the Brume to find one. You really should see about settling down, Corrie. You take on much on your shoulders, and it should be shared with a husband.”
“Donnie…” Her voice is a warning, the coffee poured as tired eyes close behind her glasses.
“Corrie, you are a woman – there is nothing wrong with looking for a suiting marriage to another noble house,” Dieudonne intervenes with her denial. His hands gently cut into the eggs-over-easy, the yellow yolk cracking to run down the length of his plate. “Your entire life cannot be buried in the House of Lords.”
“It wouldn’t have needed to be if you’d answer the summons, Dieudonne,” Corrina fires back, her words clipped onto the edge of her tongue at the irritation of another night’s lack of sleep. “Yet you, Fallicent, and Vallois saw fit only to your selfishness and refused to answer to our House’s need. Our cousins could not do it – they are Knight Commanders and Stephanivien has the Skysteel Manufactory. It fell on you, on all of you, and you failed.”
“Corrie, come now, sister…” Where Dieudonne flushes bright with the indignant retort, Fallicent begins to laugh around his chewed blood sausage, his head tilting back. “This is precisely why you need to get married. You’re pent up, frustrated, and taking your emotions out on us – and all we want is for you is to be happy. No one asked you to sacrifice yourself, and you are far from a martyr. You’re no warrior of light, Corrie. Please, do us all a favor and invest in a darling, fit young man to ruffle your sheets so we may all be spared the wrath of Halone from you.”
“Fallicent!” Her hand bangs on the table, her pristine, robed figure jerking to a stand. Her sudden outbursts brings silence to the brothers, both of their eyes focused upon her in different states. Dieudonne’s is filled with concern, and Fallicent bears a goading edge – wishing for her to continue. To engage.
“…Excuse me.” Instead, she stalks away – abandoning the food and coffee alike to return back to her work.
“Oh yes, sister – that is what you do when it becomes too hard, isn’t it?” Fallicent’s mocking voice follows after Corrina as she leaves. “Run away, dear Corrie. Run away.”
