Difference between revisions of "Dubhaine Family/Moira/Roleplays/2008/April"
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Moira sat by the roaring fire in the back pantry of her new Manor, with a glass of Alowcan brandy and a slice of freshly-made fruit cake. Her squire Iraen was sat opposite, looking slightly uncomfortable at having servants waiting on her for a change. | Moira sat by the roaring fire in the back pantry of her new Manor, with a glass of Alowcan brandy and a slice of freshly-made fruit cake. Her squire Iraen was sat opposite, looking slightly uncomfortable at having servants waiting on her for a change. | ||
Revision as of 02:00, 7 April 2008
April 7th - Oporto
Moira sat by the roaring fire in the back pantry of her new Manor, with a glass of Alowcan brandy and a slice of freshly-made fruit cake. Her squire Iraen was sat opposite, looking slightly uncomfortable at having servants waiting on her for a change.
"Have another glass girl, you may not get a delicacy like this again for some time," Moira sipped the fiery vintage, cask-aged in the arid valleys of the Irdalni province, and continued reading the letter from her sister Aoifa. The situation in the Colonies sounded desperate, but that didn't worry Moira. Aoifa was more than capable of looking after herself.
No, what worried Moira was the revelation that her younger brother Cathal had followed her sister to that unruly land and was even now serving with the Alowcan field army as its second-in-command. She had a hard enough time squaring that knowledge with the enduring image of a reckless lad at war with his long-suffering tutors, but there was more.
Two months past she had helped to put down the insanity that was the Theocracy of Light of Fontan, now she learned that her own brother had not only embraced the indigenous cult of his adopted homeland but that he was becoming increasingly zealous in his beliefs. The letter spoke of disturbing dreams, imprisonment and of bloody battles deep behind enemy lines: it seemed her younger brother had been making quite a name for himself and she prayed he wouldn't end up dead for his pains.
"Is everything alright ma'am?" Iraen set her empty glass on the table beside her.
"Hmm? Oh yes. Just news from my sister Aoifa of her adventures in the Colonies."
"Is Milady Aoifa well?"
"I assume so. There's a war on so I'm sure she's in her element. Why do you ask?"
"It's just you seemed rather quiet ma'am."
There was a long pause.
"You remember my younger brother Cathal?" Moira set the letter to one side and sipped her brandy, stifling a smile at her squire's blushing cheeks.
"Yes ma'am. A fine young nobleman."
"Well, not so his tutors ever mentioned to me, but I can't say they were ever particularly complimentary about me either," she grinned at the memory. "Anyway, it seems young Cathal's run away from home in search of adventure and pitched up in the Colonies."
"I hope he's alright ma'am."
"I'm sure he is lass," and the two of them sat in silence, drinking their brandy.
