| An Imperfect Reunion |
| Summary: | Nicodemus does not find a warm welcome from his sister. |
| Date: | May 28, 2012 |
| Related Logs: | Lots i dun wanna link. |
| Players: |
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| Rosanna's Chambers — Kingsgrove |
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| PRETTIFUL. |
| May 28, 289 |
The family has been back for a little while, and Rosanna is enjoying settling back into her own chambers for the short duration of their visit. She's in a rare moment of solitude, but for the cat who sits on the bed with her, purring loudly as she scratches behind his ears. "Do you remember home, Barristan?" she coos at him. "You will have to catch all the mice while you're here. No one else catches them as well as you do."
Technically, Nicodemus has already been home for half a day, speaking with his father and making his mother cry. But, as he asked to be the one to present himself to his sister, neither mentioned anything as she retreated to her rooms. And, perhaps its taken that little while for Nicodemus to work up his courage but, finally and at long that, there is a gentle rap on Rosanna's door.
Rosanna glances over at the door, frowning as she realizes she doesn't have anyone in the room with her to open it. Instead of opening it herself, however, she just slides off the bed and smooths down her skirts before declaring in an imperious voice, "Enter."
The knob turns, the door opens, and there he is. Six years older and perhaps a bit more weathered and worn than he was. Certainly, in far inferior clothing; simple, homespun black garments that they are. But, never the less, his is unarguably her brother, Nicodemus. He swallows, looking a little struck by the young woman standing there, with a cat perked nearby. Then he remembers he ought to speak, clears his throat and does so. "Hello, Rosanna."
If there's a moment before she recognizes him, it's impossible to tell. The first thing truly visible on her expression is shock, and it lingers there on her face. Rosanna stares at him, unable to find the words, her whole body seized with sudden tension.
Shock is probably not unexpected, but neither is it very easy to witness. "May I… that is…" Nicodemus tries before clearing his throat again. "Could I come in?"
There's another long silence as his words sink in, and there is the slightest hint of glint in her dark eyes. Then Rosanna answers: "No." It's quiet, barely above a whisper, but it's audible.
Nicodemus swallows, his gaze dropping as he offers Rosanna a small nod. "Then, I won't," he tells her. Though, neither does he leave. "I'm sorry."
"What are you doing here?" Rosanna says with more strength in her voice.
"I came back," Nicodemus answers. "I mean, I am back." Yes. Obviously. "I mean, father's given me permission to remain. To come back. I've written to ask permission to swear fealty and leave exile."
"You promised," she whispers. And then the anger comes all in a rush as she strides forward to shove at him. "You promised!" she yells. "And then you left me like it didn't even matter!"
"I know," Nicodemus answers, soft and somber. "I know I did. It was wretched of me to do it." He sways with the force of her push, but he doesn't fall back.
Rosanna begins slapping at his chest and arms when the shove doesn't evince enough of a reaction. "You don't get to come back," she tells him in a heated voice. "We don't need you anymore. I don't want you here. I don't want to see you ever again!" Her voice begins to choke with the fullness of her emotions.
Nicodemus is quiet, holding his hands up and out of the way of his torso so Rosanna can get out all the slapping she desires. There's no protest. Certainly, no attempt to defend himself from her flying hands.
A frustrated sob catches in Rosanna's throat, and she ends her assault with a full-forced slap of her hand across his face. She stands there, breathless and furious, her face splotched with red. "You're not my brother," she tells him. "You left."
His head is jerked to the side, scruffy cheek going red with the force from her palm. He straightens again to peer down at Rosanna when it seems she's done hitting him (for now). "I'll always be your brother," he tells her gently, "even if you hate me."
"No," Rosanna declares with a force of noble imperiousness that suggests, maybe if her situation had been different, she would have learned to be a real queen. "You are not. You are false and without honor. Do not speak to me. Do not look at me."
"Well, for what I've done, those first two things are likely true," Nicodemus agrees, gaze obligingly lowering. "That makes me a terrible, awful, unforgivable brother. Still a brother, though."
"I would name you a bastard if it weren't such an insult to my lady mother," Rosanna spits at him. And finally she turns her back, hugging herself tightly with her arms, back straight. "Get out."
Nicodemus is quietly as Rosanna turns away. "In a couple days, I leave either for Riverrun or King's Landing so I can swear fealty. But then I'll be back. I know I ruined everything by leaving, but I won't leave again. Even if you decide to hate me forever."
"Get out," Rosanna says more emphatically, trying to hide the telltale quiver in her voice.
Nicodemus dips into a small bow, backing away from the doorway as ordered and moving to draw the door shut after him.
