Blinding the Eyes|Grandisle, Firegem Isles

[Kender Bard]

Abruptly his mind was filled with music--singing from some feminine source. It was ethereal and heartbreaking to hear. Though the words were unintelligible to his mind, they seemed to convey a sense of loss and beseeching the Forces.

Along with the music was a vision of a woman dancing, though only her silhouette. She did indeed seem to be holding a rose in her hand, though since everything was in black and white it was hard to tell if it was meant to be any other color.

As the song swept to its lamentable climax, the silhouette broke into two identical versions of the same dancing woman. One gave a delicate twirl, arms stretched upward as she crumpled to her knees and then fell and remained still, cast into a dramatic pose. The other twirled and leapt, hanging suspended in air before disappearing.

[Darastrix]

Crawford shook his head and slipped his glasses back on. "I heard a woman singing a song of loss and begging the Forces. A silhouette of a woman holding a rose danced to the music, and split into two dancers at the song's climax. One twirled with her arms up, dropped to her knees, and fell the rest of the way down and was still. The other twirled and leapt into the air, where she remained fixed before she vanished."

[Kender Bard]

Ragnar gave a small shrug. "It sounds like the vision described, more or less. Though given the imagery, I imagine it has to do with one of the heartstick women on the island. And I don't mean the petty little heartbreaks that everyone puts themselves through here, but something deeper. Likely one of the many widows. Well, I hope whoever she is, she finds herself in the happy ending."

Despite his casual words, he was still staring at the small bit of slate with worry. Sighing, he slid it back to where it was before. "I really need to speak with Delilah, so I'm afraid I'll have to cut our discussion here unless you wish to come with me."

[Darastrix]

"I was going to return to the palace after leaving here in any case," Crawford replied as he got to his feet. "I'll walk back with you, though I imagine you'll want to speak to Her Majesty alone."

[Kender Bard]

"On some things," Ragnar agreed. "And she's quite embarassing when there's company around. She delights in tormenting me." He rolled his eyes.

It didn't take him long to locate Delilah in the palace, having a kind of uncanny knack for guessing her whereabouts ("It's like how I always know where my daughter is, too.") Delilah was in some kind of arts room, painting a picture of a flower. She was a mediocre artist at best but seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Ragnar!" Delilah squealed, setting down her pallette and brush and rushing at him.

"Delilah, no, the pa--!"

But she'd thrown her arms around him, laughing, and getting his robes smudged with the paint on her hands. Ragnar gave a long-suffering sigh and gave her a quick embrace back before pushing her off.

"Oh, Lord Crawford," she greeted as well. "I think you should know, you have about..." She glanced at the ceiling in thought a moment. "Eight invitations waiting for you in your room."

[Darastrix]

Crawford turned to the side and coughed into his fist to smother a laugh at Delilah's enthusiastic greeting to Ragnar. In ten years or so, that might well be himself and Locket. He felt the idea ought to bother him more than it did, but, well, he didn't dislike Locket.

"Already?" Crawford said in response to Delilah, surprised. "Forces, they didn't waste any time, did they? I think I'll take my leave now and go peruse them. Lord Simeon, it has been a great pleasure speaking to you. If you will excuse me...." He bowed to them both and left for his room. The invitations would be a secondary concern. First, he intended to try to determine whether Ragnar or his interpretation was the correct one.

[Kender Bard]

Sure enough, within his room on a silver platter there were eight sealed scrolls, each bearing a different House's seal and addressed to him in elegant flowing script. There was also another tray on a separate table bearing tea still steaming gently in the pot and a small array of tiny cookies--a courtesy of either one of the servants or Delilah herself.

When Crawford began his vision, there was a sharp sense of pressure against his mind. It wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable. The image of a mind's eye being slashed in two appeared as Etaf's warning about prodding too deeply into the matter.

In fact, there was a faint echo of her voice in his thoughts. You are not the only seer in the world, Brad.

The pressure was replaced with a brief warmth, as though someone had taken his head between their hands gently, and then it was gone.

[Darastrix]

But I am the only seer whose skill I trust, he thought to Etaf, even as he broke contact with his signs. A warning from his Lady was not anything to take lightly, though it was a bitter disappointment. But in this case, what could he do? If Etaf herself was blocking his Sight on the matter, he wouldn't be able to See anything. He could try, he had that choice available, but he wasn't sure it would be worth possibly losing his ability over.

Crawford heaved a sigh and put his glasses back on as he rose from the bed. He still believed himself to be right in his interpretation, and the thought crossed his mind that Grandisle and the rest of Firegem might not believe Morilanta to be the kind of threat it was unless something like that was allowed to happen. The best he could do was to keep his eyes open and make sure to put forward why, prophecy aside, he believed Morilanta would stage an attack at some point in the future.

An ignorant populace, loose allies with their neighbors at best, and distant from the allied nations with the collective power to beat them back, he thought as he poured a cup of tea. Yes, this would make a tempting target.

There was nothing for it right then, however, so Crawford picked up the first of the invitations and began to glance through them.

[Kender Bard]

The invitations were as varied as they were numerous. They offered Crawford the opportunity to attend a feast, a boating race, two dances, something called 'elemental display show', a poetry reading, and a family's bardic recital. The last invitation was actually from House Simeon. It read:

"Esteemed Regent of Khelek, Lord Crawford,

Word has reached me of you and what little our fair citizens have been able to glean of you. No doubt you'll have met my father by the time this reaches you or will have plans to do so soon if what I hear holds true. I will save my father the time of belatedly realizing he can invite you formally by issuing you an invitation to our estate for a quiet dinner with a little bit of music afterward.

Sincerely,
Lady Felicitas Gravril
House Simeon"

[Darastrix]

Well, then. It appeared his plans for the evening were set. Crawford already had a favourable impression of Ragnar, and it appeared that his daughter might be a little like him, or at least was mindful of those who might not be quite as Soahcian as the rest of the islanders. Any invitations for that night, he'd have to decline, and the others.... Well, he'd see.

~Your Majesty?~ he sent, his mental voice quiet in case she was still occupied with Ragnar. ~When you have a moment, would you be so kind as to explain the protocol regarding accepting and declining written invitations here?~

[Kender Bard]

A short note of acceptance or decline will suffice, Delilah thought back to him. Address them back to the Houses who wrote the invitation and hand them to one of the servants who see to it that they get to the proper Houses. May I ask where you intend to be tonight?

[Darastrix]

~Lord Simeon's estate,~ Crawford replied, already digging for parchment and ink. He would seal his responses with his own sealing wax. ~His daughter invited me to dine there tonight.~

[Kender Bard]

Oh, I see, Delilah replied with a note of regret. But it was gone quickly. Felicitas is a lovely girl. I'm sure you'll have an excellent time. I believe I'll attend Lady Ryker's feast. Ragnar seems quite taken with you; I knew you two would get along.

[Darastrix]

~I'm glad I've had the opportunity to meet him,~ Crawford replied. ~I'm acquainted with surprisingly few Etafians.~ Actually, he was acquainted with surprisingly few people when one got right down to it.

~Forgive me if this is rude, but how is it that Lady Felicitas has a different surname than her father, but is still a member of his House?~

[Kender Bard]

Ah, I forgot that someone not acquainted with Grandisle might find that puzzling, Delilah answered. Well, branch families--those not directly descended from the primary family or who marry out of it if you're female--do not always carry the same last name as the House from which they came. I came from a minor family and my surname used to be Fionn. My father was a distant relative to Lord Lysander Sophronios father. Despite being a Fionn, he and my family would claim to be from House Sophronios. And we were. When I married my husband, however, as he is a direct descendent from his House, I took his last name and claimed his House for my own.

Now normally, Felicitas would have claimed the House that her husband did, but his entire branch family was not in good standing with their House. He wanted to avoid the problems that would occur and asked Ragnar to take him into his House. Ragnar agreed and so there you have it. Then the poor young man died so in the end it hardly matters. Even if she had claimed to be of House Christianus, she probably would have been booted back to her father's House after her husband died.