Friends Family Forgiveness
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The splendor of the technology, bustle and eclectic energy of the city and nation of Alexandria all seem to point towards the towering structures and constant thrum of activity in the Castle District. The Castle District contains the vast majority of the government offices, guild headquartrs, noble quarters and political functions of the city. The very air seems energized with this level of importance. The architecture is pompous and enormous, consisting largely of multi-leveled edifices and great jutting towers and buildings that seem to grow out of the mountains with hanging gardens and brightly colored banners and mana lamps strewn about. Everything seems to be aiming upwards here and pointing towards the freedom of the skies beyond. The grand towers and structures reaching heavenwards and activity in the skies above a constant happening with ships of all sizes from air-cabs to great merchant vessels moving through the Skygates and Griffon Riders moving through their patrols as they pass through and above the many bridges and walkways that connect the towers, buildings and walls.
Ever-easterward stands the fortress-castle of Castellum Alexandrae and a large bulk of both ground and air traffic seems focused in that direction.
EXTRAS: +view
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Faranmidahn Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG Spider. 0s 4h Kira A young blonde woman wearing simple robes and an eye patch. 2m 2h
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The chapterhouse of the Esteemed (kind of) Knightly Order of the Purple Rose is a proud, if relatively recent structure, clad in the trappings of adventurous yearnings and the poet's take on chivalry as much as the imput of those actually schooled in foritified archetecture.
Several squires are clad in greyish purple smocks as they tend the grounds imediately outside the structure under the watchful eye of an older woman at arms who watches in quiet reproach.
Kira isn't terribly familiar with this district. There's rarely anyone in need of food, here, and those that would probbaly would not accept handouts here, anyhow. She was directed here in search of Faramidahn, though, and so she is ... well, wandering, mostly. Looking. Orienteering is not her strong suit, even in the city.
The older woman's attention wanders from her charges, though the expression doesn't leave her face, the ages may well have etched it there in some bygone day. She notes the bandaged traveller and turns to more properly regard her as she draws near and, after her eyes flicker to the emblem dyed into the woman's robes, lifts a hand in a habitually formal manner, "Good day and well met."
Kira looks to the woman at the greeting and offers a smile. Not assured, but friendly and polite. "Hello, and thank you. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for someone. Is Faranmidahn here? I was hoping to speak with her."
There is a look between the squires at that, to which the older woman, probably a mother at some point, ominously intones, "I don't hear you working." and the young fellows have their zest for labor renewed. The overseer lifts her chin slightly, then lets out a breath before answering, "Sir Waywalker is currently... occupied." her eyes flit back to the blue rose again and she says, "Who would call upon her, then?" in a considered tone.
"I'm sorry," Kira apologizes as she skipped introductions. "My name is Kira, Sentinel in service to The Healer. It isn't an emergency, so if she is occupied, I could come back another time."
There is a pause between Kira's introductions and the response, but a response is in fact, earned. The old human draws up and salutes, "Well met, Sentinel Kira, I am Sir Lorwyn." She steps closer to the younger(looking) woman to speak in a more subsumed volume, "The matter is of a personal nature?"
Kira's cheeks redden some, between the salute and the question. She nods, first, then adds, "Yes. It's... yes." Kira realizes explaining it isn't necessary, and isn't something she wants to do at the moment.
"Gern!" the human barks, and startles the squires, though one drops his rake to race to the women's side, "Yes, Sir Lorwyn!" The old human glances to the expression of the Sentinel, then, "Inform Sir Waywalker that she has a visitor, -discretely-, and return here. You will not breathe a word of anything you hear from her quarters or you will become my new hobby. Am I understood?" Gulp, "Yes, Sir Lorwyn!" "Go." He does.
Kira blinks at that and the awkward in her expression grows as she looks to the woman. "I don't mean to interrupt her.." She isn't sure what the directives relate to, but can presume that her mother may be staying with her. And Kira knows neither of them are in the best of spirits, nor can she fault them at all. Also, Kira has a very terrible record running at attempting to make things better to do very much the opposite.
The human considers her for a few moments, and asides a firm, "Get -back- to -work-!" with a turn of her head, though her eyes don't leave Kira's face. There is more consideration, "Nor I, though oft it becomes necessary. I trust your intentions, Sentinel." After a minute or so, the squire makes his way out like his head was fire and fairly scoops up the rake to turn aside whatever ominous fate Sir Lorwyn's 'hobby' would entail. Some moments later, clad in a formal silk dress though currently shrouded in her cloak hood drawn up over her features, Faranmidahn begins to make her way out of the chapterhouse.
Kira feels bad for the squire and even moreso that he was sent to convey her message. Her eye is pulled back to the doorway again as Faran exits. Her reflex is somewhere between friendly wave and bolting, but she manages to do neither. Politely waiting seems the best middle ground, along with a smile... albeit a nervous one.
Faranmidahn's eyes are hard to find within her hood, though the set of her jaw, the line of her lips, is grim. She approaches the women in silence, the fluff of her legs whispering against the paving stones between the soft slap of her bare feet. The old knight doesn't look uncomfortable to be in the mourning knight's presence, but she does issue a soft, "Sir Waywalker." "Thank you, Sir Lorwyn, for seeing to this." Faran replies in a subdued, troubled tone, then she lifts her head to look up at, "Kira." and she seems somewhat uncertain. Conflicted, but not outright hostile.
It's just as well that Kira can't easily see her eyes. It makes it a bit easier to avoid them without appearing rude. "Faranmidahn." Now that they've both confirmed who they are, Kira continues before the pause adds to the tension, or she changes her mind. "I am sorry to disturb you. I understand if you don't wish it, but I wanted to offer my aid for you and your mother. If there is anything either of you need or I can do..."
Faranmidahn's hood lowers as Kira begins to speak and there is a subtle pivot to her head, one way, then the other before she deigns to speak. Sir Lorwyn seems to take this exchange as a quiet 'shoo' and gives a neat little bow before returning to her task of keeping the squires from -openly gawking- at affairs not their own. She then proceeds to do that, with a bit of drill sergeant's fire. Deep in her wounds, or so accustomed to the elder's antics they simply don't reach her, she turns slightly with a, "Walk with me?"
Kira nods at the invitation, now even more apologetic that she didn't wait to discuss things somewhat more privately. "Of course." She turns to follow, then step up with Faranmidahn and keep pace. Kira doesn't say anything further, letting the other decide when/where is more appropriate or comfortable.
Faranmidahn makes the first few paces in silence, her tiny stature and hood making reading her expression impossible, but she utters a soft sigh at first, "Mother is... quite wroth with you." the tiny knight says finally, her voice a coached even. "She has every right to be," Kira admits readily, but softly. "I was there. I ... didn't stop it." A few further additions come to mind, but she stops there.
"Yes." Faran replies softly and there is a subtle edge in her tiny voice, some anger, despair, but something softer, too, "I..." She chokes a moment, then, "I know the terrible things Sally can do. What she can make someone do." Now a fair distance into the grounds, away from the others, the knight stops and turns to look up with wet cheeks to Kira, "I couldn't save Acedia, nor Auranar from the demon. I know your pain... in part."
"I..." Kira starts, then trails off. "I want to help, now, if I can..." now she meets her eyes, and her own can't help but wet. " but if I can't, or you don't wish it, or you both despise me for the rest of your days..." She pauses and forces ... a smile. "I will accept that, gladly, as the price for her being with you now."
Faranmidahn's hand, for once bereft of it's lace sheath, truly bare parts her cloak to reveal what could be a mourning gown, or just what she wears for formal occaisions, and she reaches up for the Sentinel's cheek. She swallows, faltering slightly, then continues, "No. My heart... I'm angry, Kira... but I understand what happened, and I'm trying to... make sure my wrath turns to the right target. You were the blade, but Sally was the hand."
Kira reaches up to place her hand over Faran's after crouching slightly for her benefit once she realizes her aim. "I so wish that I could have spared her all of that..." She pauses to take a deep breath. "We can't change what has happened, no mater how much we wish it..." It may well be as much for her as mourning lucht. "but naybe some of it can be undone? Has she seen the Hearthguards or other healers? They might be able to do something for her, or..."
"She was... kind enough" Faran begins with a sneer, "to have it delivered to me, at a place I thought afforded safety. Neatly packaged, cold inside, with a note. A taunt." She sighs and steps even closer to the crouching paladin, "It's been restored." The lucht looks to the building, then, "She doesn't give up on things easily, and I've... never seen her.. I've never seen her hurt, before."
"Oh, Faran! I'm so sorry..." Kira eyes widen even as her face contorts. She had no idea of that ... cruelty. She wouldn't have even considered it something that would happen. But, it seems that much is ...fixed? Healed? Though Kira knows well there is much more to it than that... but it is something? "She ... seems very strong. She might not want you, or anyone, to see her otherwise."
Faranmidahn almost shrinks into herself at that and she looks... abashed, "...just so." She fidgets a little, then turns to face Kira again and reaches for her shoulders, "I.... I forgive you."
Kira opens her mouth, though nothing emerges, at first. She closes it to simply nod, only managing a simple "Thank you" after a few more moments of silence. Then she feels compelled to add, "Just because she is strong, that doesn't mean she doesn't need you."
Faranmidahn forces a smile, one still tinged with hurt, but she nods, "There... may be part of you that feels like this is... undeserved." She pauses, then, "When you had the chance... you also -chose- to help get her victims free. She.. she doesn't like you.... but she's alive to do so, in large part, because of you. One day, I hope to help her realize that."
"I'd like that, too," Kira gives her a strained smile back. Strained, but genuine. "But it's alright if she doesn't like me." She sniffs. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted or taken you from her.'
Faranmidahn nods, thoughtfully and, "It'll take time..." As Kira sniffles and begins to apologize, the lucht steps into her and tries to hug her, because, for all the... complexity between them... Kira is person in pain.
Kira likes hugs. Of course she does. Usually, to comfort others, but that doesn't mean she can't use one, herself, every once in a while. Maybe many this while, but one is great. "For all of us." She gives Faran a squeeze, not -too- much, then pats her back.
Faranmidahn rests her chin on the paladin's shoulder and gives her a squeeze, "For all of us. Don't suffer alone, Kira... we're here for you."
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Starring:
Kira
This young woman is of average to slight stature, and her quiet poise doesn't make her appear any larger. What skin is exposed shows some weathering from sun and wind, but is relatively smooth. Her blonde hair is hacked short, somewhere between a pageboy and pixie. This exposes prominent ears that are only overshadowed by the brightness of her blue right eye. Her left is presumably missing, covered by a simple white leather patch held in place with a matching leather thong. Her remaining facial features are pleasant, but subdued, from button nose to full lips and cheeks.
If the woman seems mostly unremarkable, her clothing is entirely so. She wears a simple travelling robe of light gray cloth with a stylized rose dyed blue on the breast. A similar cloak worn overtop in inclement weather. Well worn boots and the bottoms of tan breeches are visible at times below the hem of the robe. The only visible possession is a large duffle carried over her right shoulder.
Faranmidahn
A tallish Lucht with a wide, heart shaped face of moon-eyed countenance, she bears the marks of an albino, with skin a pinkish cream, and pate of full, knee length hair of ivory and bone. Her eyes are a peculiar shade of rose beneath somewhat thick ivory brows, with long silvery lashes, to which she's added two matching rows of round tourmaline settings starting at her brow and tapering down her cheeks to her jawline. Like her people, she prefers to feel the ground beneath her bare feet, though she's manifested the Clydesdale like shag of ivory more uncommon than unheard of among her people. Her voice is high and light enough to be almost troublingly cute when she intends to be anything but, though her posture is straight and proud.
She's taken her spider affectation to a functional extreme, probably more due to a certain amount of reality checks than a true forbearance of eccentricity. Black spiderweb lace sheaths her limbs, emerging from kilted leather armor; over her heart, an embossed sigil of violet, lavender and green proclaims her to be of the Order of the Purple Rose, in those circumstances where the matching broach pinning a black web-embroidered cloak to her shoulders is absent. A matching helm with a visor of black strips, when it is worn, adds shadow enough to aid the suggestion of spiders' eyes her jewelry is meant to project. At the right side of her waist, a comparitively long sword for her stature, blackened steel with a red hourglass on the pear-shaped pommel, rests in a lacquered sheath opposite an array of pouches that no doubt contain an array of adventurer's tools, while a matching Lucht Traveler's blade is strapped to her left thigh.