Milora Lomasa is a Good Person

Night's Edge Monastary: Dining Hall


 * The eunuchs of Nights Edge Monastery long ago gathered in this arched chamber in mass for three meals each day. In the morning, they ate a meal called Suns Grace. When the sun reached its apex at noon, they came together for Days Fullness And as the sun descended toward the west each evening, they made their way up the shadow Watch Walkway to the dining hall for the meal knows as Shadows Fending.


 * The spacious hall was originally designed to hold more than a dozen tables capable of seating more than one hundred eunuchs, the abbot and his staff. Designed in shades of dark and light, the walls of white sun clay brick lead up to dark shardwood rafters in the shadowy recesses of the arched ceiling, with a polished-smooth, rich wooden floor worn with the passage of time and heavy use. The room's acoustics are surprisingly soft, the worn floor doing a great deal to limit the noise when full with those who call the manor home.


 * Along the back wall is the large fireplace and the room's banked ovens, built into the brick of the wall itself, with freestanding stoves and a large steel spit for roasting meats. A small, heavy biinwood door leads out to the narrow armory and on to the salle in the southwestern corner, while another larger and braced door leads off into the courtyard. On the north wall, an arched embrasure leads off into the manor's guest quarters, while to the east, a wide and heavy archway leads on to the peace of the chapel.

Celeste pulls down a few glasses, blinking in surprise at the approaching Seamel. She is quick to hand off the glasses. "It is hard to explain because you seek a short, or precise version...and I've not the words for such." She takes a deep breath and lowers into a chair. "Short and precise, I was insulted and called a hypocrite and whore," she states flatly...nearly emotionless. "But there is more to such a tale and harder to express. You see, I went to speak to the woman for a multitude of reasons and found, well, a viper."

Lyddmull Seamel takes the glasses and sets them gently on the table, taking a seat beside the Mikin, though sitting on it sidewise so as to face her. His jaw tightens at her words, his head dipping a bit as he shakes his head. "Pay it no heed," the Seamel says as his eyes lift up towards Celeste's, "For none of those could be further from the truth."

A door opens, revealing a pale dreamscape of fog and moonlight, drifting quietly behind the short wall of the salle. Against this backdrop, the new arrival appears, at first, as an even darker silhouette. He enters the hall directly and closes the door behind him. As the light of the dining hall hits him, he suddenly appears brighter against this new backdrop. Pale skin, blond hair, and the dull sheen of smooth leather. Syton Temple stands at the edge of the dining hall.

Celeste sighs heavily, looking up quickly... breath catching in her throat at the new arrival, or perhaps the surprise of another joining the warmth of the kitchens. Nodding as she sees Syton, speaking out to the man from where she sits at the table with the Seamel. "Good evening, Syton. I don't believe you have met my friend Lord Lyddmull Seamel," she offers in a soft, hollow voice. The light that shines within her voice and eyes dampened.

Lyddmull Seamel's eyes shift away from Celeste to the newcomer, his face obviously tight with agitation, the man about as tightly wound as one can get without bursting into flurried motion. He offers the Freelander a tight, measured nod, doing his best to brush the tension from his voice as he speaks. "Good evening," he says quietly.

"Lady Celeste, Lord Seamel. Light's greetings." Syton's voice carries clearly across the chamber. He smiles easily between the nobles and slips away from the door. The young freelander strides along, approaching the pair. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything," he says, completely lacking in any real regret. He adds, "If I might say so, the two of you look quite sour."

"We were only speaking of friendships and one's own gullibility," replies Celeste softly. She offers a gentle, reassuring squeeze to Lyddmull's hand. "I fear that I will not be able to assist in the matter that we spoke of in Sweetwater, Syton. Matters have arisen that have made it unable for me to be able to assist without prejudice." She smiles back to the Seamel, wan but still a smile. "Master Syton was with us on the expedition beyond the Aegis, my lord. He's a rather talented merchant as well, and one of the best I've known in Fastheld."

Lyddmull Seamel returns Celeste's hand-squeezing, his tension fading some. "My apologies Master Syton," he says, recovering some good humor. "It is good to meet you," he says, "Lady Mikin has mentioned you on occasion."

"Think nothing of it, Lord Seamel. The honor is mine. I only hope that it won't be too difficult to live up to Lady Celeste's representation of me." Syton seems in good spirits, puffed up and looking vigorous, despite his tired eyes. His bloodshot gaze slips to the noblewoman and takes a decidedly more confused look. "The matter from Sweetwater?" His is not a look of lost confusion, but of a deep confusion that comes from hearing something ridiculous. "You're not going to be able to get married?"

Celeste shakes her head. The Mikin looks decidedly tired. Red rimmed, tired eyes and hair so mussed one would think she was the one sleeping in the stables these days. "You are the talented merchant who tried to barter us a way through the mountains," notes the woman wryly, a half-hearted attempt at humor as she looks about for the bottle of wine. "What brings you to our door tonight, Syton?

Lyddmull Seamel's eyes track to Celeste in confusion at Syton's words. "You are getting married?" he asks, shock filling his voice as he searches the woman's face.

Syton seems to ignore--or at least, he doesn't respond to--Lyddmull's comment. If anything, it seems to amuse the Freelander modestly. "You know that I begin to worry, Lady Celeste, if I go too long without meddling in your affairs." He nods in agreement with himself. He continues brightly, rocking back and forth from heel to toe. "And by your mood, I take it that my worry was not unfounded. Perhaps if I find a high stool, you would share with us your most recent epic?"

Celeste squeezes Lyddmull's hand gently. "No," she states firmly. "I'm not getting married unless it set without my knowledge or consent." The woman glances back to Syton, nodding absently at his words. "Which story would you wish to hear, my friend? Or have you heard of the spectacular outpouring of emotion for telling a woman that I did not love her betrothed, and wishing them happiness?" She nibbles her lower lip, taking a deep breath before continuing again. "I cannot help in regards to the Lomasas because one sees fit to destroy my intentions because she is still blinded in youth, Syton. I am only thankful to the Light that she's unveiled herself for the viper that she is, and no longer plays the simpering flower under the guise of friendship."

Lyddmull Seamel seems relieved, but still quite confused, at the first statement. At the second, however, his concern grows. He glances quickly at Syton for a moment before turning back to the noblewoman. "Then let it go, Celeste," he says quietly, "Do not let words eat away at you in this way. Let it go."

"Ignore it? Such a waste of passionate words." Syton shakes his head. He clucks his tongue reproachfully, though it isn't clear to whom or what his clucking refers. Matter of factly, he adds, "Milora is passionate and young, but she is a good person. Besides, you seem to have survived her slings and arrows well enough." This is all punctuated by a simple, subtle, dismissive shrug that causes his leather armor to squeak.

Celeste shakes her head firmly. "I fear that is where we shall disagree, Master Temple. Avarice spurs the lady, and little more. She belittles herself in the hopes that others will pay homage to her beauty," she laughs ruefully. "You once spoke of games and I told you that I did not believe in playing at such. That instead, I preferred to speak truth from my heart. If you had heard her words last night, you would realize that all she sought was a fight, Syton. She summoned me to Riverhold under the guise of friendship, and then proved to be anything but. Perhaps a justification to her mis-guided righteous anger. How soon before she turns on someone like Meian or Master Firelight? If you were to believe her words and sincerity...we were friends."

Lyddmull Seamel's eyes flicker over to the Freelander for a moment, a frown of disapproval spreading across his features before he turns back to Celeste. "Celeste..." he says, trailing off and shaking his head, his lips pressed tightly together as he watches her face.

Syton glances back to Lyddmull for a moment. If he notices the nobleman's disapproving look, he shows no sign of such. He simply gives the nobleman an expectant look as he waits for more to come. When nothing else is spoken, Syton eager jumps in to fill the silence. "She belittles herself because she does not think that she is terribly beautiful, and indeed, she is not, lovely as she is in other ways." He continues on, not allowing for any immediate reaction. "And if Lady Milora did anything, I'm certain it was to speak from /her/ heart. Spoiling for a fight, maybe, but the truth of the matter is that she is /not/ a bad person." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry that you got into an argument, Lady Celeste, but it was not the first time. Nor shall it be the last."

Celeste looks towards Lyddmull, and finally just averts her gaze from both men. "Believe what you will, Syton. I do not tell you this to sway your heart or feelings. Her words...stung. It would be a lie to say otherwise, but Milora is lost, Syton, or at least the woman I would have called friend. She remained in the Verdigris along with the scourge that she finds to be a hypocrite. It was not your honor or friendship that was called into question...not your heart," she stresses. "The woman is blind to her own faults but instead is quick to try fault with those about her...to find a means to be angry."

Lyddmull Seamel sighs quietly, squeezing the noblewoman's hand. His head tilts downward a bit before he says, "I do not know the woman as either of you do. But I have seen enough that would support what both of you are saying to be very confused." He shakes his head for a moment. "Celeste, do not let this happen. If the lady intends to hurt you, you are only making it easy for her by letting her words bite this hard."

"Lady Celeste, I will allow you a few days to put your armor back on before I come by again to talk this over with you." Syton smiles faintly to Celeste, a fond expression. "For tonight, my mantra shall be thus: Lady Milora is a good person. Lady Milora is a good person. Lady Milora is a good person." His smile grows with each iteration, broadening until he can no longer speak with his mouth stretched so wide.

"So were a great many of my friends from the Church, Syton. They were *good* people," replies Celeste pointedly. "I've no need for armor but I will not suffer the slings and insults of her words anymore. I've shown her a great deal of patience and kindness. Let her seek out her duchy and marry the man she claims to love," sighs the woman. "I was sincere in my well wishes and though our friendship is ended, I would only wish them the Light and love...but I fear that she's not ready for her *path*. She will bring a darkness to it, and seek to push the blame upon another."

Varal returns to the dining hall, an exasperated look on his face. "Please forgive that intrusion," he notes quickly upon reentering. After a deep breath, he frowns. "Looks like I missed everything."

Lyddmull Seamel sighs quietly, his head drifting down sadly as he rubs his forehead with his free hand.

"Lady Milora is a good person. Lady Milora is a good person." Syton turns to Varal and bows his head, suspending his chanting long enough to say, "Light's greetings, and Light keep you." After a few more utterances of "Lady Milora is a good person," the speaker repeats the same bow to Celeste and Lyddmull. Once more, his mantra is broken long enough to say, "Light keep you both. I shall return soon, Lady Celeste." Raising his head once more, he pivots sharply on a heel and heads back towards the door to the salle. In his wake, he mutters, "Lady Milora is a good person. Lady Milora is a good person. Lady Milora is..."

Celeste sighs, rising to her feet as well, a rueful laugh to her lips. "Yes, she was," notes the Mikin mildly, "Light protect you, old friend." She turns back to Lyddmull and Varal. "I fear that we've talked the night away while you were gone, cousin. Can we speak on the morrow?" Her hand dropping to rest to the Seamel's shoulder, if permitted. "I should probably seek out my rest. You are both welcome to spend the night; we've the room."

"I appreciate the offer, but home is but a short ride away," Varal responds, nodding. "But I will be here tomorrow to discuss whatever you need me for, cousin. You have my most sincere apologies that I disappeared like that, though I'm sure the present company did more than an adequate job." There's a sour look on his face as he gazes at Temple a moment. "Absurd levels of repetition aside."

Lyddmull Seamel's eyes follow the Freelander out the door, a smile threatening to tug at his lips, despite himself. He looks to the hand on his shoulder, then up at the Mikin it belongs to as he stands. "Rest well then, my lady," he says quietly, concern never leaving his eyes as he releases her other hand.

Syton is still chanting softly to himself as he sweeps open the door and steps out into the night. As the door closes behind him, it seals his repetative mutterings out in the night.

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