Away from the KingIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Away from the King
Flora maintained icy dignity and a rapid pace all the way to her own beautifully appointed suite of rooms. Once there, however, she made no effort to embark on her elaborate toilette. Instead she turned to her son and fixed him with a gimlet eye. "Tell me everything," she said. For a moment he considered asking for clarification on what she wanted to know everything about, 'everything' being such a huge field. Her look told him without doubt that should he seem to try and delay he would find himself... unhappy. She probably wanted to know everything that happened to him since they'd seen each other last night. In excruciating detail he talked about dinner. The nuances were lost, as he paid more attention to the larger picture. "I've never met the King before in a casual setting, and he seemed so much more..." he searched for words, and wound up grasping. "He never once mentioned a headache," was the best he could do. he'd felt uncomfortable traveling with Morgan. Something about that man wasn't entirely wholesome. "And the... brothel," he said, "was quite splendid. It did seem to have overdone the velvet, to the point I wondered if they were trying to say something with it. Perhaps some neo-post-baroque transliterative device," he wondered aloud before returning to the topic at hand. They'd all somehow disappeared, leaving him in the company of a woman whose name escaped him. She showed him several of the artworks, including the Caine, and they'd played several games. There was that look from his mother. He was certain that it was a kind of doom, to get that look from one's mother. And you know, at that moment, that you must absolutely skip over the glorious detail of your first kiss for fear that she'll tell you that you are no son of hers and drop kick you across the castle. "It was a mystery game. Very involved, and I'd hate to think that someone in my family could ever do something as untoward as hurt somebody. Still," he said, "just a game. Of course, then came the fire." And he described the shooting, which didn't strike him as more than a bunch of popping noises, and leaping from building to building to clear some of those poor folk trapped while a bucket brigade from the harbor worked at putting the fires out. He'd helped with that a bit, but his specialty was rescue. He'd even rescued a puppy and returned it to a child before going back into the flames. "... and then we returned to the castle," he finished. Flora had been frowning throughout the recitation but Chadick knew her well enough to recognise the difference between displeasure (the early part of his account) and deep cogitation - which was given to the incidents on the docks. "You did very well,m dear - very well indeed," she said - but it was hard even for Chadwick not to feel that her words were a little random - and that she was thinking of something else. "So," she said suddenly, "were any of your aunts or uncle present?" "I didn't see any of them. Merlin and Mandor were both there," he said slowly trying to recount the details of the evening further. "Morgan, of course. Larissa was somewhere..." He gave details of all that he could remember, those folk that he'd seen. The names of the Queen staff at large escaped him, once more... almost as if they didn't matter. But he didn't remember a single aunt or uncle. "I did mention the painting, though. It was rather good. If you stood back you could see the unicorn. Breathtaking." "Hmmmm," said Flora, momentarily diverted from larger concerns. "You think Patra might sell? It would look splendid in the white drawing room." "I think you'd have to find something of extraordinary value to exchange for it, to say the least," her son replied. "It's very prominently placed in a room for special visitors." There was a gleam in Flora's eyes - the gleam of the connessieur pointed in the direction of a masterpiece. A truffle pig would not be more determined - the last time she had caught the scent like this, the resulting war crossed three Shadows and five hundred years. The charming porcelain figure that had been at the root of it all stood on Flora's armoire, of course. "Special visitors," she said musingly. Chadwick grew a little concerned. Had he triggered some thought as to what he'd done? Did she now know that he'd <i>kissed a girl</i>? "Well, not as special as all that," he said, "but like a visiting dignitary might be received in, or perhaps someone filling in for an ill staff member might be interviewed. Like that," he said, in hopes that he'd helped his position a little. "I suppose I could ask," he said weakly. Florimel leaned forwards and gently patted her son's cheek. "Don't you want to see her again, dearst? And have some more lovely chats about art?" This was a rather different side of his mother. He'd been certain that his being aboard the brothel had upset his mother, yet she was now encouraging him to go back aboard? He'd hate to upset her, and it was a chance to see Lily again... "I... well, yes," he said. It wouldn't do to lie. "Excellent," said Flora approvingly. "And you'll be sure to come and tell me everything you see, won't you?" A final affectionate pat to his cheek. "And everything you do," she added firmly. "O-of course, mother," he said as he struggled to refrain from blushing. He placed his hands behind his back, where his fingers fidgeted. "I should prepare for the meeting," he said as he tried not to be uncomfortable in her presence. "Indeed," said Flora, with a gesture of dismissal. "Make sure you return in time to escort me."
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