The Foolishly Spoken and Carefully Worded

Courtyard - 


 * ''Entering beneath the large sun-clay archway brings one into the courtyard of the former monastery. Never truly quiet, this space is wide and open to the sky, the central area through which the rest of the working manor is accessed. During the day, conversation and the passing of craftsmen and students keeps the area from being quiet, while night brings some peace - though often disturbed by the furtive form of someone thieving a midnight snack from the nearby dining hall or passing through on their way to a belated bed.


 * ''The open air garden is cut into two halves by pathways of coloured stone. To the east, the white pathway is of all white sun clay, fired and glazed, winding through mixed flowerbeds of Mikin orchids and the trellises of the creeping night's trumpet. The west path is of a dark, almost black rock with rougher edges, chipped and hand-fitted into a mosaic pattern of basalt that mirrors the winding way of its sister. The two paths come together beneath an elegant three tier fountain made of white marble, shot through with black veins and polished by the constant flow and splash of water.


 * ''A set of double doors, made of heavy biinwood stained to a darkened hue of near black, lead off to the north, their inlaid and gold-leaved inset of the Sunburst of the Light shining brightly even in the dimmest day. A small postern door, tucked at the end of an unassuming branch of pathway on the western side of the courtyard, leads north into the dining hall, while a small gate opens in the low salle wall to allow access to the weaponmaster's training area.

"A lot of unanswered questions and a simple misunderstanding," Lorana replies to Karell pleasantly, "I will recover in a moment and get my answers at a later time, when people can give them." She quirks a brow, then, "'My dear'? Can't say I've been called that one by who wasn't significantly older than myself, but I suppose a little variety can't hurt." She smiles and then nods to Griedan and looks to Norran. Her eyebrow rises higher as she looks between those two, "Oh, this could be interesting..."

While Tshepsi may have gone from sight, her voice remains. Somewhat. The wordless melody ebbs from somewhere in the garden, signifying that perhaps the Archmage hadn't vacated the premises completely, but simply chose to hide herself from sight. Aided by the darkness, the Syladris has coiled herself neatly between some night trumpet trellises along the white-paved path that winds through the courtyard. Wavering on the breeze, the notes timidly creep into a higher pitch and then swiftly plummet into the low, thrumming sound they possessed before. An evening serenade to the moons. The stars. The souls she'd inadvertently sent into oblivion.

"Oh, ah." the nobleman goes somewhat red, "Sorry," Karell murmurs brusquely, "It just rolled off the tongue."

"You're... welcome," Sandrim decides on to Griedan, before shaking his head and stepping back, letting the man make his penance or what have you with Norran.

Norran gives Griedan a somewhat odd look, quirking his brow in slight confusion before his eyes trail off in the direction of the familiar voice. "If you've some business with me, I'm sorry to say you'll have to wait. I have urgent business with which to attend. If this relates to last night, the one who's favor you've lost is that of the Warpriestess. Belated manners you should've shown far sooner will do little to abate my opinion of you. Only time may do so," answers the Lomasa in a dismissive tone, giving a /very/ slight nod to Griedan as if he's considered whatever business there is to be concluded as he looks over toward the voice. "ARCHMAGESS! MY APOLOGIES, BUT GATHER YOUR THINGS, WE LEAVE IMMEDIATELY FOR FASTHELD KEEP! WE HAVE LINGERED LONG ENOUGH!"

Zia bursts in through the gate, looking slightly out of breath and more than a little pale. Paler than usual, even. "Archmagess..." Her gaze roams--wildly?--across the courtyard. "Tshepsi!" Guided by the voices of the Grand Master and the Archmage, she starts across the courtyard--*right through the middle* of things if necessary.

"It's fine, my Lord," Lorana says, "I never was one to mind informality so long as no disrespect is meant by it." If she notices the blushing, she makes no comment of it, her attention drifting to the Grand Master. She sticks a finger in her ear and wiggles it a little bit at the yelling, working her jaw as though to try and pop said ear. "Strong set of lungs," she remarks softly, almost enviously. And then she looks to Zia. "Light, what now?"

Sandrim blinks at the yelling. And at Zia running through, then just sits back, crosses his arms, and enjoys the show.

"I unerstan' Gran'mas'er." Griedan says, straightenin', but 's an 'pologeh I owe yeh none th' less. "I didna mean t' cause yeh ana undue stress. Ligh' bless yeh." Turning around, he starts to slip away from the groups, looking for Tshepsi... until Zia bursts in, that is.

Sadly, the nonsensical song fades into nothingness, the owner of its voice stirred from her rest. Leaves rustle, vines sway, and a pair of horns protrudes above a trellis. Reared tall enough to peer over the entire structure, the dually-hailed Tshepsi stares, long and hard, in the direction of the two persons that shout her name. A mildy exasperrated glance is offered to the heavens, then the horns shrink back down from view and a tail pokes around the side of a bush. Sluggishly, the Syladris weaves her way out and into full view of anyone looking closely enough to see her. Her eyes burn as brightly as coals in the night.

Burning coals or not, Norran's expression remains decidedly unimpressed as he returns Tshepsi's glare with a bewildered stare of his own. "Although I apologize for interrupting you and causing you to be /ill-tempered/, I assure you I'm being quite kind compared to the trouble you've caused me in the past sennight. As I said, please gather your things. This place is no longer under protection and this audience with the Regent has been delayed long enough. Meet me outside the grounds." At Ziavri's entrance, however, Norran looks particularly confused, seeing that he is placed /slightly/ between her and the Archmagess - not in the way enough to blatantly stop her approach, but enough to garner a general idea that such a thing is not immediately wise without an explaination. "May I inquire what you're so excited about?"

"Good question," muses Sandrim, taking a seat on the edge of the fountain.

Karell makes what is often a good decision for him, and shuts the hell up. He watches in silence. Lorana also watches in silence, folding her arms and trying very hard not to look amused. She manages a light smirk.

Zia pauses, very pointedly ignoring the sudden silence spreading across the courtyard as she states firmly and quietly, "I need to speak to the Archmage." She, for one, is not amused. "I do not care if you will not allow me privacy, Grand Master. But you may not consider it a topic for general discussion."

Griedan has come to a stop not far from Tshepsi and he too seems curious to see what is so urgent.

Nihanin returns from one of his trips in the forest, freezing at the palpable tension in the air. THIS man knows when something bad is afoot, and despite his heavy pack, seems more then willing to dart off again when loud words began to come.

"Let her passs..." Speaks the heralded Archmage at last, her gaze diverted away from Norran and to the hurried woman. "All I need fetch for our journey isss egg maker. Hisss basssket isss inssside." Fluidly, she slithers forward, brushing closely past Griedan as something akin to acknowledgment.

Griedan smiles at Tshepsi as she passes, but does nothing to hinder her. Instead, it seems he's going the same direction, moving alongside the Syladris. (this is assuming I've read correctly and she's heading into the monastery) [OOC] Tshepsi says, "She's heading towards Norran/Ziavri."

Twitch. The Grand Master is already in quite a poor mood, even for himself, and this declaration from Ziavri does not help his mood in the slightest. He glances over to Tshepsi, giving a slight nod, his tone a matter of absolute politesse as he requests, "Just a moment, Archmagess. I'll entertain the Mistress while you see to your gift." This friendly expression is slooowly turned toward Ziavri and immediately dispersed, a thin smile now holding on the Grand Master's lips as he takes a step in the girl's direction. "Young Mistress, you will immediately apologize to me - sincerely and to my /utmost/ satisfaction. If I detect even the /slightest/ cue of sarcasm in your tone or in your gestures, what I shall do to your appearance afterward will not do /justice/ to the phrase, 'ruined for marriage'. I've had quite enough of Freelanders thinking they can brush me aside and treat my actions as annoyances, and you are unfortunate enough to encounter me as such on this night. Your following actions will determine how you live the rest of your life, Mistress. Choose. Very. Wisely."

Sandrim grimaces as he hears Norran speak, shooting a look to Zia before he starts looking around the courtyard.

Lorana's eyes widen at that and she perhaps very foolishly moves forward towards the Grand Master and Ziavri. She doesn't say anything, and if Norran so much as looks at her she will bow as lowly and humbly as she can manage and offer apology. But the Baroness puts herself in a position where she could get between the two if need be.

Viscount Valoria carefully fades out of view, moving away from Lorana with a quiet bid goodbye before he heads into the main chapel himself.

In theory, honesty is the best policy. "Then I will be truthful with you, Your Grace," Zia says, still with that quiet firmness, but with the force lent to her by that honesty to back it up. "If you seek my sincere apologies, then you have them. I mean neither to brush you aside, nor to show you any disrespect. At all. I have come here tonight in the hopes of finding the Archmage, with the intention of doing anything within my power to save a life--doing *anything* against you is completely accidental, and I am sorry." As she speaks, she does not take her eyes off of Norran's, if she can meet his gaze. In her expression may be read determination, and the lingering lines of long worry... but not challenge.

Sandrim stands up now, and moves for the gate, slipping out into the night.

Tshepsi continues to wind her way steadily towards the irate Duke and potentially imperiled woman. A low hiss forms deeply in her breast and she reaches her wrist outward to snare what she may of Griedan's sleeve, saying "Thisss isss the ssside of Fassstheld that Tssshepsi doesss not like." Offering the man a glance of worry, she adds "Pleassse will you bring egg maker to me? Hisss basssket isss in the kitchen. I wasss offering him food." Puffing her chest with a deep inhale, the Archmage fixes Norran and Ziavri firmly in her sights and works to close the distance between them. "You sssee?" She asks aloud, lifting a hand in gesture to the messenger. "Her presssence isss warranted. What now hasss happened?"

"We have our ways, Archmagess, as you have yours. Your ways have seen to untold property damage and the deaths of two of our citizens to save a chapel. I do what I must to ensure that my duties are taken with absolute seriousness, and my reasons are my own as are yours. I would very much appreciate it if you wouldn't presume to lecture me on the matter, Archmagess, and I shall respect your words in turn," replies the Grand Master to Tshepsi although his gaze remains set on Ziavri. He sizes her up for a moment before giving a slight nod and stepping aside. "Your apologies are accepted, I would remind you to appropriately gauge your demands in the future. Continue if you must."

The freelander's apology and Grand Master's acceptance get a soft sigh out of Lorana, who takes the opportunity to step back and away from the group.

Zia blows out a breath, and says carefully, "I wish to speak on the topic of Naoi Cloth, Archmage, Your Grace." The bardess is keenly aware of the eyes at her back as she speaks. "Where and how would be the most appropriate?"

"Thossse who believe Tssshepsi acted asss ssshe did to sssave a building are mossst incorrect," Replies the Syladris rather cooly, her lids half closing as she looks off into the direction of the gate. "But sssuch hasss already been made known to your Warpriessst and the little one who sssought to kill Tssshepsi." A wry, mirthless smile forms on Tshepsi's lips and she nods to Ziavri. "And asss can be ssseen, her misssconceptionsss cossst her dearly. I already offered my aid to heal her wound. Ssshe refusssed. Hasss ssshe changed her mind?"

"That's your urgent business, hm?" asks Norran, his cold expression melting away into a polite grin. "I don't quite know what you're worrying about. I haven't spoken with the Archmagess at a length about the incident as of yet, but unless she wishes it to be so it's unlikely the former Ordinator will be executed. Her attack was sudden and without planning, as much as she'd like to claim herself a mastermind, I promptly laughed at her once she made /other/ certain claims and only cited them to let her think further on her actions. Ultimately, her fate rests on what the Archmagess wishes," notes Norran, turning toward Tshepsi and giving a nod. "The woman who attempted to slay you - my apologies for not watching you more carefully, I shall definitely not do such a thing again - was found, arrested and is now being treated for her wounds at Fort Morningstar, where she will be imprisoned until her sentence is decided."

Nihanin relaxes, prowling the outskirts, studying the architect of the monastery.

Lorana continues to back away from the group, and once she is a fair distance away, the Lomasa turns and makes to leave the grounds. "Heart's going to fail before I reach the age of forty," she remarks to herself, shaking her head.

Zia manages to relax and tense at the same time. On the one hand, she's not about to get skewered. At least, it would seem that way. On the other... well, those worry lines deepen. "No," she says softly to Tshepsi. "But she's willing to give her life for her mistake. And willing to tell lies to protect the Cult." Pause, and then (mostly to herself), "Daft as she might be."

As per Tshepsi's request, Griedan returns bearing a basket in his massive hands, a cheeping yellow chick inside. Beady black eyes peer up at the glowing man that carries him and then pecks idly at its confinement. Coming beside Tshepsi, he pauses next to her. "Yer pardon Archmage, but I was won'erin' ifn I could get a momen' o' yer time when yer business in FAs'eld is finished an' yeh r'turn t' Crown's R'fuge?" he asks.

"I already forgave her actionsss," Tshepsi murmurs, "againssst me, on the condition that not all are capable of underssstanding why it isss I am here. If ssshe makesss a sssecond attempt, Tassshep will not be ssso merciful. Ssso do not leave her fate to me quiet yet. But rather you ssshould look to your own people and thossse who have been harmed by thisss band of bad light - what you call the "True Light" - that thossse sssuch asss Misss Cloth have unleassshed on usss all." Bowing her horns, Tshepsi delivers her final verdict on the matter and twists now to receive her beloved chick from her favorite shiny man. "Never have I closssed doorsss to you," She answers with a warmer smile. "I will leave thisss place sssoon. It appearsss asss though in many waysss I have, what isss it your people sssay? Overssstayed my welcome. When my time with the Regent, with the boy King hasss ended, I will go."

"The former Ordinator Cloth has neither the means nor the guile to be in league with the old Church, Archmagess. The Church, she merely made those claims out of some misguided sense of martyrdom she - no doubt - learned from the Viscountess. Why dodge an arrow when you can throw yourself before it and boast of it afterward as proof of your courage and selflessness? Well, regardless," replies Norran with a shrug, giving a nod to Tshepsi. "Even still, we cannot allow the act to go entirely unpunished. You may forgive her, but the Law cannot. What if she should decide to take the Law into her own hands once more? She described her actions as stopping a beast before it goes on a rampage."

Zia sighs. "Punished... but not killed?" She glances between Norran and Tshepsi with a mixed expression on her face. Unfortunately, it would probably count under that blanket-word of 'disrespectful' to hug the Grand Master. So she doesn't, simply standing there. No longer a Savior of Friends, but just a little lost, and a lot tired. These are probably not the right people to ask, but she will ask it anyway: "Is there anything more I need to do here?"

"Beasssts masssquer..masssquerradaging (she butchers the word) asss men. Yessss, I know. I have ssseen the wordsss left behind on bodiesss in the Refuge." Tshepsi sniffs a bit stiffly. "Maybe thossse wordsss were meant for the Sssyladris, maybe for the Dragon. Both have been ssshattered, both angered. Punisssh her asss you will, for it isss not my place to dictate your lawsss here. But let it be known that the Archmage would wisssh her life ssspared. Deny her the passsage into death. For in that death ssshe would find sssatisfaction and be forever blind." Cradling the egg maker basket closely, she offers Griedan a little wink, then slithers away from those here, heading truly in the direction of the gates. "I will go now, Grand Massster, if you will ssshow the way."

"W' will maybeh b' in yer citeh fer a while, Tshepsi, s' I will 'wait yeh there an' look ferwerd t' meetin' with yeh gain." A large finger strokes back over Egglayer's head after he's released the basket to the Syladris. "Safe journehs Tshepsi." he says and... well, despite that it might be disrespectful, he does return the wink and watches her depart.


 * Peep*

"Very well. Light Keep, Mistress," nods Norran in reply to Ziavri, giving a gesture toward the exit as he begins to make his way solemnly off.

"Aye. Light's keep. Take care." Murmuring these words, Zia heads for the gate, with a backwards wave over her shoulder to anyone who might be paying attention. Or perhaps to those who don't.

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