|Don't Sit On My Chair|
|Summary:||Aleister and Aeliana entertain the Mallisters, Cherise turns up later and fighting ensues with the help of Petra and Ysadora to tidy up the mess.|
|Grand Hall, Highfield Keep|
|Grand Hall it truly is, in the back right-hand corner a stairway leads to the second floor Promenade; the area only serves to make the space seem larger with its rail lined balcony taking half the room. This design leaves most of the second floor open; adding height to the space and its oak rafter ceilings. The high dais and its high-backed chairs are set under an alcove caused by the second floor. Made of heavy oak and wrought with ornate carvings of this new house's sigil, crowned wolves seem to dance and chase each other through fields of wheat along its legs and sides. Sigils of the great Riverland houses line the wall behind the dais, House's Charlton of Highfield, Tully, Frey and Charlton, in the center of these banners and slightly larger, the crowned Stag of Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms.|
|Sep 22, 289|
Wild fey hair, impossible on it's best day to manage, makes the youngest Charlton easy to mark in a crowd or without one even if she doesn't wear the colors of her house. Dark green are the skirts of her gown that flutter about her feet today, accented about the hem with clusters of golden mistletoes; a wide flares that gets tighter the higher up it goes, until it hugs about her middle and on up, leaving the tops of her shoulders and the slender make of her arms bare. The drape that hides them is an indulgent bit of white fur, that makes things far more passibly modest. She appears from the cracked door of the reading room; with nary a suggestion that she'd been listening to anything at all. Expression bleeding into pleasant surprise when she catches a glimpse of their guests. A warm smile is given both Saffron and Kamron then, the due sweep of courtsey that title demands given the pair, before those dark eyes turn in slightly chiding measure towards her brother. "Aleister, you didn't tell me we had guests, particularly with such interesting news and you still haven't invited them to be comfortable? Tsk." A tiny little shake of her head, as she moves to claim a chair by his side; that his wife might generally claim it is beside the point. "Ser Karmon, Lady Saffron, it's a pleasure to see you both again!"
Kamron nods his head, "I've spoken to Lord Alric, Ser Aleister. He and I have an understanding. I just wanted to let you know of the issue." At Aeliana's entrance, he looks over, bowing his head in greeting, "Lady Aeliana. Ser Aleister has been more hospitable than we had reason to expect, given the situation." Looking back to Aleister, he nods again, "I assure you, there are no apologies necessary."
As another Charlton makes herself known, Saffron turns her head toward her, and a bright smile illuminates her dimpling face. "Lady Aeliana, you are strikingly lovely today." She even openly admires the fall of her hair, perhaps almost jealously. Women always want what they cannot have, and Saffron abruptly finds herself wishing to be able to sport that feyish look. She turns her gaze toward Aleister, sobering just a touch. "My Lord, we did happen upon your Lady Wife yesterday. She… I hope she finds her bearings soon," she offers, perhaps a bit sheepishly.
"Then, Ser Kamron, if you do not wish me to intefere in this matter, I will consider it closed for the time being." Or until he hears that Alric has done this again. Aeliana's entrance into the hall draws Aleister's attention and as she moves to the chair beside him, there's a flit of a smile and a slight incline of his head in her direction, "Sister .. I fear you are right." He's looking back to Kamron as if to say something, but something that Saffron says draws his attention and his brow lifts as he looks towards her, "What .. did my Lady wife do, Lady Saffron?" He does look over in the direction of a servant, to lift a hand and snap his fingers, which causes the servant to scurry into the kitchens.
"Life moves forward," Aeliana supplies in the wake of Kamron's words; realistic perhaps, instead of morose. Grieving, truly ought be done in private. "If there is anything you need, for the duration of your stay," she offers, before her eyes flit towards Saffron and at the compliment, dips her head with the compliment. "You're too kind. I look like I've been standing on cliffs," she demured, humor in the tone. "But you, my Lady Saffron are as radiant yet as I saw you on your wedding day." It looked as if she wanted to say somewhat more too, ere the topic drifted and while she returns her brother's smile and reaches out to give a gentle reassuring pat to the curve of his arm; mention of Cherise makes her lips go tight. What indeed, her expression seems to inquire, when it alights once more upon the Lady Saffron.
Kamron nods slightly at Saffron's words, although he glances over to Aleister, as if he might worry how the other knight might take it. He nods at the closing of one problem, responding to the continuation of another, "She was distracted, Ser Aleister." It's a polite minimizing of the problem, but he still makes it with a smile. Shifting his attention back to Aeliana, he nods once more adding on to her compliment, "And not just then, Lady Aeliana. But we won't be impinging on your hospitality for long. We're riding on this evening."
"I believe they call that the newlywed glow, Lady Aeliana. I'm sure it's bound to lose it's luster soon." Now that Aleister has inquired, Saffron must breathe deeply before her words come out in the exhale. "She does not really know what day it is, My Lord, or what has happened. She seems to be lost in the days before you rode out to commit yourself to the battle of Stonebridge." She frowns a bit. "She has also been… confusing events, and details. She thinks she was at our wedding, and that I was wed to Ser Martyn." She breathes out a sigh. "It will pass, I'm sure, My Lord, but for now… she is not herself."
As Kamron and then Saffron begin to speak, Aleister can do nothing more then offer a slight shake of his head, along with the hint of a brief sigh and for a moment, he says nothing. His eyes flit over in the direction of Aeliana and when he looks back to the Mallisters, it's to offer another slight incline of his head, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I appreciate your understanding of the situation and taking no insult by anything that she said in her state of grief."
It was strongly suggested the lady remain confined in her room to gain a full evening's rest. The maester's droughts failed to set this fragile mind at ease, rendering her into a deep sleep where those dreams may have prolonged into her waking hours. The Lady Cherise was no bumbling idiot, just apparently confused. Though as long as she was calmed Septa Enya found no fault for the lady to wander the halls rather than remain in bed. At least she still held the desire to move or feel a sense of duty to something. Each time she was beginning to head towards the late Aerick's chambers a clever distraction guided her attentions elsewhere. Further along the keep the blonde haired Charlton ventured into the promenade where voice could be heard. She paused behind a stone pillar and tuning her ear for the topics below.
"If your husband's eyes are any indication, Lady Saffron," Ae teases, "Then I think that it will be a glow that you carry throughout the duration of your days. And if I may be so bold," dark eyes flit between them, her smile growing warm once more, "Seeing the pair of you together," and still so charmed in each others company no less! "It gives me hope." Even if, with the explination behind Cherise's antics had those dark eyes flicking once and only once, to her brother. Touching her tongue against her lips for a thoughtful moment, Ae considers and rather than let the maudlin topic remain to be dewelled upon, "Ser Kamron, I wonder if you might allow me to steal your ladywife away, for a day when I return to the Roost. The ladies Nedra and Ilaria were hoping we might take her out for a day's shopping with us, if," that smile touched warn and hopeful upon Saffron then, "If you'd like to join us, that is?"
Kamron nods at Saffron's explanation, shaking his head at Aleister's words, as if to shake off even the suggestion of insult. He offers a bit of a crooked smile to Aeliana, bowing his head, "We have been blessed by the gods, Lady Aeliana." He waits then, allowing her to go on, and laughs softly, a sober little sound, "I might be able to allow you some time with her. She does tend to hang around." And his eyes dart over toward his Lady Wife, his grin flashing broader for a moment as he teases lightly.
Aeliana's words draw a wonderful pink blush onto the young Lady's cheeks. "Thank you, Lady Aeliana," she says, almost cheerfully despite the state of the Keep and it's mourning mood. She has not quite seen Cherise who seems to loom like a ghost by that pillar. She smiles brightly to the Charlton lady's invitation, bowing her head gently. "That sounds wonderful, My Lady… I would love to do so, and my Husband will learn to allow such frivolous things." She laughs, though it is a bit subdued as if she does remember that the House still mourns. Then she looks to Aleister. "I must confess Lord Aleister, I'm sorry that I have only met your sister now."
The looming figure of Cherise above goes un-noticed by Aleister, for his attention is busy shifting between Aeliana, Kamron and Saffron, the banter a pleasant distraction from the more pressing matters that loom over the Keep. With a hint of a smile to his lips, he's giving a nod as they speak and when he's addressed by Saffron, there's a flash of a grin and a flit of his eyes over the direction of Aeliana, who is seated in Cherise's chair upon the dias. His gaze rests there a moment before he's looking back to Saffron, so that he can offer, "I am glad that you've had such an opportunity, Lady Saffron. It pleases me greatly that she's been able to return from Hollyholt."
Behind the column Cherise remained utterly still, staring to the shadowed floors before her and on occasion her gaze would sweep slowly over those gathered at the lower levels. The Septa waited, listening as well though no immediate efforts were made to encourage the lady on her aimless path.
"I agree, Ser Kamrom. And honestly? I envy you for it," came the all too honest reply. "It helps restore my faith in humanity," she teases and a warm rich laugh rolls forth as he teases his wife; a low and gracious bow of her head when his permission comes. Her smile only growing when his ladywife agrees. "Fantastic!" She beams and looks for a second like she might clap in her delight until..almost belayetedly she rememebers…that might be a pinch too cheerful for the current scene. So her hands fall back to her lap and fuss about her skirts, instead. "We shall blame my brother," Aeliana confides in mock whisper to Saffron, "For he's the one responsible for sending me off to Hollyholt in the first place." A little nod and then, she sighs, "Tis a pity though, that you'll be leaving so soon. Will you be traveling back to the Roost, I hope?"
Kamron shakes his head at Aeliana's question, for all that he smiles at her earlier words, "No, Lady Aeliana. My cousin, Lady Muirenn, is going to meet her future good-family at Heronhurst." He looks over to his wife, resting his hand on hers for a moment, "We shouldn't take up any more of your time, Ser Aleister, Lady Aeliana. If we're to make the trip before dark, we will have to set out soon." Looking back to the Knight of the keep, he bows his head again, "Our offer stands." And once the pleasantries are done, he steps back, starting to guide Saffron out once more.
Before Aleister has a chance to respond to anyone, the doorway to the Grand Hall opens and a guard steps in, promptly announcing the urgent arrival of a Frey Messenger. This draws a lift of the Lord's brow and he's lifting a hand, to awarded entry to the messenger, who marches on in, clad quite visibly in the colors of House Frey. There's a flourished bow and a quick, "Letter from Lord Walder Frey, m'Lord," and then the man is moving forward, to place the letter in Aleister's extended hand. Even as he begins to break the seal, the messenger is flourishing another bow and promptly turns to take his leave.
Saffron almost looks a touch dishearted by her husband's words, and she releases a small sigh before her lips curve with a vague smile. "Of course, Ser Kamron," she says gently as she squeezes his arm. Now she glances back toward the Charltons, bowing her head gently. "We should be back to the Roost in the next few days, Lady Aeliana, perhaps I will see you there and we can try to distract ourselves—" Before she can finish her words, however, the coruier arrives. She blinks several times at the announcement, and she glances toward Kamron. "Though, with that, we will take our leave. My Lord, my Lady," she says, bowing her head gently.
There was a moment where it looked like Aeliana wanted to blame her brother for running off the bright and shining jewels of company that bought light to an another wise dark affair. "I wish you safe travels then, Ser Kamron," Ae offered with a low bow of her head. "And a very pleasant visit." She sounded like she meant it, too. Though there was still a tiny dash of disappointment in her eyes. "I look forward to it, Lady Saffron," Ae offered, smoothly ignoring the messenger's presence. "More, I think than I have looked forward to a good many things lately. Be well," replied; with a low sweep of her head when the pair spoke to depart; before she leaned just a little to closer to her brother with every intention of reading over his shoulder.
A heavy drug induced gaze trailed after the Mallister's departure and there, at the great doors of the hall, her gaze lingered for a bit longer. If there were thoughts to be read through her features the lady would appear quite neutral. Barely there as some has accessed. A flicker of something in the corner of her eyes had caught her attention, elsewhere. Another distraction for Cherise to absorb herself in.
It's a good thing that Aeliana had the sense to offer a proper farewell to Kamron and Saffron, for the moment that Aleister unfolds that letter and begins to read it's contents, there's a flash of a deep smirk upon his lips and a rumbling growl that sounds in the back of his throat, "Well played, Lord Frey, well played." Catching sight of his sister having moved a touch closer, the letter is passed to her, so that she can properly read what's displayed and after a moment, he's continuing with, "It would seem, sister-mine, that we have been left with little choice."
Aeliana always has sense, what are you talking about? Regardless, when the pair left, the little Charlton's head fell to the side and landed against her brother's shoulder; staying near even after he offered the letter so that it was held there between them, easily viewable by both while her lips pursed and she breathed out a little sigh. It was one of extreme disappointment. Now she looked like she was in proper mourning. "No. No choice at all." And a little heartbroken too; because she slid back into her own seat and seemed to shrink in on herself.
Lifting her chin the lady's footsteps carried forth as though she had recently recalled, much to a great delay, where she was starting to head towards. Septa Enya had eyed with caution now, speaking aloud to catch the noblewoman's attention. "M'lady, your chambers they are this way." The lady's movements continued for the stairs that would lead one to the ground level of the keep.
Flitting a look to Aeliana, Aleister merely watches her as her head lands on her shoulder and when she breathes out that sigh and then seemingly shrinks back into that seat, he's tossing the letter to the table that rests before them. It's then that servant returns, baring goblets and a pitcher and as she moves to settle them upon the table, Aleister is simply pointing to the letter, "Have one of our messengers deliver that letter to my Uncle. Tell him to pull the army back and yield the road. Tell him, that I will ride down tomorrow, before the funeral." There's a certain coldness to his words and with only a bow of her head, the servant claims the letter and scurries off. Not yet noticing the descent of Cherise to those stairs, he's looking back to Aeliana, regarding her a moment before leaning in to murmer something to her.
"I can take it," Aeliana offers, those dark eyes cast in utter disappointment towards the resting letter where it settled upon the table. "I don't mind. But…he's going to leave now, you know. He'll go back to Kellen. He told me so, the last time I stopped by the camp after I'd left you." It's a rare and genuine showing of emotion on her face, unfeigned and without guile. So much that, in the wake of his whisper, the smile that touches isn't one that completely lights her eyes. But she does move though; slender arms wrapping through his own as her head returns to his shoulder to nuzzle, a tiny kiss that was meant for his cheek and caught the base of his jaw instead, because she refused to lift her head any higher. "Promise that you'll never leave me," she said and in the wake of it heard the Septa's voice in return. Stillness settled over her then; dark eyes turned sharp and narrowed towards that voice and by default, her brother's wife. "You let her out?"
"M'lady… m'lady." Enya stressed her whispers as Cherise walked, the length of her pale blue gown rippled on each taken step. When she does, at last emerge into sight once again the Septa's worry lines deepened while remaining near the door. For a woman who has been fed sleeping drought after sleeping drought, she was maintaining her strength to at the very least walk straight. Not hurried of course for it would require too much concentration. Her glare flitted between the siblings unsteadily as one hand remained upon her stomach, subtly growling from the lack of ingesting a full meal. Deeper into the Grand Hall Cherise headed on a path straight for the dias. At the steps she carefully climbed one at a time until the lady could stand before her good sister and lean forward, uncomfortably close unless the girl had moved. It was only to talk, at the very least as a question. "Who am I?"
"No. You will remain, sister. He will receive the letter by our messenger and will need to immediately prepare the troops to move and see them marched far enough back to yield the road." Those words are still cold, though clearly not directed at his sister. At the mention of him leaving, though, there's just a nod of Aleister's head and a quick, "I would suspect as much." No sigh, though. No smile, either. Though when her arms wrap through his and she leans her head to his shoulder, nuzzling and offering that kiss to the base of his jaw, there's just a flickering of a smile and a murmered, "I will never leave, Ae. Of that, you have my promise." But then she's making mention of letting her out and his brow lofts up, as if he's about to ask who she means. But, that becomes clear when Cherise wanders into the room and he's murmering, "No .. I did not." Eyes settle upon Cherise, watching her, before he's looking to Enya, "Clearly my good wife is no state of mind to be wandering the halls, Septa. And yet, you have allowed her to do so."
"It's…a cruel twist of fate, you have to admit. Our Leige takes his loss, while his vassals take one greater and he lets it, without interference until the very end. A fitting punishment, you must admit. It was indeed well played." And that, more than anything else, Aeliana can appreciate. His promise though, helped as well. Yet it was Cherise's slow climb, to come before her, near enough perhaps that she could taste the flavor of her breath. The sadness had gone, yes, tucked away for more appropriate times and instead, meeting the demented blonde's blue-grey eyes without issue, complaint or fear. "A ghost," it was mildly spoken, casual and with a hint of disappointment. "Nothing more than the ghost of a woman who lost her ambition, so that only this broken shell remains."
The Septa Enya treaded carefully a few feet forward, instantly lowering her head. "My apologize m'lord. She was doing well. She needs to be comfortable and…" The answer to Cherise's question had silenced the devout of the Mother. Left only to sigh heavily as the demented blonde stared a for a few breaths longer, not swayed by the mention of her 'fragile' mind from her loving husband. "You're wrong sweet and honorable good sister." Cherise returned the gentle words but not a gentle reach for the brunette's dark locks and into a firm grasp to hoist the impostor off Lady of Highfield's seat by the crown of her head.
Enya is affixed with a glare from Aleister, a clear indication that he's displeased, but she's spared any words, for Aeliana's response to Cherise draws a snap of his head towards her and a quick flit of his lips to a smirk. But it's Cherise's response that draws that smirk from his lips and as she reaches for his sister's hair, he's vaulting himself from his seat, a hand snapping out to try and claim clap his hand upon her wrist, even as he offers, "Enough, Cherise! You forget your place and who rules these lands."
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Cherise=Unarmed Vs Aeliana=Unarmed
< Cherise: Good Success Aeliana: Failure
< Net Result: Cherise wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aleister=Unarmed Vs Cherise=Unarmed
< Aleister: Success Cherise: Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aeliana=Unarmed Vs Cherise=Unarmed
< Aeliana: Failure Cherise: Success
< Net Result: Cherise wins - Marginal Victory
Everything seemed to happen at once. Cherise went lunging and Aleister jumping up to his feet. The stinging sensation of pain rang out against Ae's scalp with a shrill hiss between her teeth while the little blond's hand sank into her hair; slender legs, previously crossed kicking out in an attempt to catch the woman before her unaware and add some distaince. It failed, miserably with the way her skirts tangled about her; the most the little Charlton managed was to uncross her legs, while her hands hooked in against the arms of the chair and she threw her weight back in against it, refusing to be moved. "HELP!" She screamed it, loud so that it echoed through the grand hall. "Help! She's gone mad and she's attacking me!" So that everyone could hear.
"You are not my husband." She returned lowly. The pale blue gaze remained locked upon Aeliana even as Aleister swept in to be a hero. Although she couldn't yank the impostor out of her seat Cherise showed no signs of letting go, only entangling her claws deeper into the lengths of the woman's hair. "HELP!" Cherise yelled as well. "HELP!" Mocking the woman's cries.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aleister=Unarmed Vs Cherise=Unarmed
< Aleister: Good Success Cherise: Failure
< Net Result: Aleister wins - Solid Victory
The calls for help draw the attention of the Guards, but they look to Aleister for guidance, draw into a slightly stunned state by the whole affair that is transpiring before their eyes. For his part, though, Aleister doesn't call out for them and as Aeliana tries to kick her way free, and fails, and Cherise offers those words to him, there's a curl of his lips into a smirk, "No. I am your /Lord/." Fingers curl tightly about his wife's wrist and he's simply wretching her arm down, to ease the tension upon Aeliana's hair, even as he begins to twist Cherise's wrist, to try and force her to release the other woman's hair. If nothing else, it's going to hurt. Badly. When he speaks, it's a murmer, but there's no denying the coldness there, "You will release her, Cherise. Immediately."
Well, the commotion is bound to get someone's attention. Only perhaps it might have been better that it wasn't the Lord's courier. The door from the kitchen leading into the great hall slides open, the woman coming in on soft feet, eyes finding the dustup at the dias and doing very little, or as little as possible to draw attention to herself. Now it's all well and good for the guards to be armed with sharp and pointy things, but that's not the courier's style. Still, her hand does reach into one of the many folds of her skirts, pulling out a small sap, which looks as though it could be for all intents and purposes a money bag. Quick and quiet as she tries to come up to the group.
"Ow!" Aeliana cried and her head wrenched about by the profound hold of Cherise's grip. It was, in all honesty, made worse when Aleister added his direction. He pulled Cherise's arm down, then her head went down by default, tugged about on the puppet string that was Cherise's arm. But grief stricken folks are so often a danger to themselves and those around them? Who could fault her for her fear, particularly since the woman wasn't letting go. So her right hand left the arm of the chair, dipping in against the folds of her skirt in light search and worked against the tiny hand sized slit. "Get her off of me!" Ae warned, oblivious to all but the woman who accosted her. Well, that and the dagger that came into view when her hand slipped back into the light. "NOW!"
"You are LIES!" She snaps back to Aleister without peeling away from her task at hand. The attempts to wrench her hand free would fail as she felt nothing. A bit of pressure perhaps but nothing to stir her from releasing the woman's hair, only pulling it along with his attempts and hopefully a few healthy amount of strands trapped within her determined claw. She begins speaking though part of it has been recited from the passages of the Seven. "The sword of justice has been broken. The channel of loyalty divided. He is without the mercy that emboldens their cause. Their virtues… their honor. Buried are the justices a man swears before the Seven. Before witnesses." The Septa, frantic, rushes towards the dias but dares not to try and wrench the woman's arm free. "M'lady please… come into clarity. This is not your way. Obey your husband before you are truly injured." With the dagger insight Cherise was still wholly dedicated, perhaps even oblivious to the shiny thing. A first in all honesty. "You are a pretender. A lie. You hold no truths. The Stranger will see you home and the Father will deny you. The Maiden will shun you. The Mother will scorn you. And you will be lost." Just who was she talking to?
In this instance and close quarters and considering the position of the women and the design of the dias, it's hard for Aleister to attempt anything that wouldn't hurt Aeliana more then she already is. As such, he continues to keep his grasp firmly upon Cherise's wrist, but he makes no move to twist it anymore. Instead, he simply seeks to hold it in place, so that she can pull or rip the hair from his sister's head. That smirk that had been upon his lips shifts to that of a snarl and he's murmering, "Enough, Cherise. You have already made a fool of yourself." Now, he flits a glance in the direction of the guards and calls out, "Guards. To me." This spurs them into action, with two of them beginning to move towards the dias.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Petra=Unarmed Vs Cherise=Reaction
< Petra: Success Cherise: Success
< Net Result: DRAW
There's something to be said to being taller than most women ought to be, and that means she can make up for lost time and cover more ground. And Petra puts it to good use. She doesn't worry about Aleister, whether he sees her or not, and quite likely he will, not is she intimidated as the septa is. It's a problem, with a single solution, and the courier does what she can. She's up on the dias, the sap in her strong left hand snapping out to hit the Lady of Highfield on the side of her temple.
Aeliana spends 1 luck points on Stabbing Cherise.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aeliana=Blades Vs Cherise=Reaction
< Aeliana: Success Cherise: Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Cherise rolls Body-1: Failure.
Aeliana had yelled for help, repeatedly. Aleister hadn't gotten her to let go. Even he was yelling for guards! The woman was mad, completely and totally out of her mind. The septa couldn't reach her. No one could. At that point, Ae might have looked nervous, as well but mostly she was more interested in keeping her head attached. As it was, her grip turned white knuckled against that dagger and she thrust; a quick thrust towards Cherise's gut, one that would bring the dagger back when her hand withdrew. "FUCKING LET ME GO!"
The Septa was too late to intervene, both against the crack against the Lady's temple and now the dagger. Somehow Cherise remained standing after the first attack, knocking her head sideways and only that. The grip remained strong. She was heavy lidded, dazy and not quick enough to realize that a dagger was shoved right into her gut. It broke the haze, rendering her still and now at last the grip was loosened. Cherise exhaled, a soft gasp when an odd feeling drew her eyes downcast. That shouldn't be there. A final thought before collapsing on the floor of the dias due to a lack of strength to remain standing. The Septa shouted, "NO! NO!" and quickly fell to the ground to embrace her lady. "Father, by your mercy please no." Her hand pressed to the seeping wound that slowly stained such a lovely dress.
Aleister notices Petra at the last moment and when she manages to land a blow against the side of his wife's head, one that doesn't fell her, there's a slight blink. "Enough, Cherise!", is called out again and then, in a blink of an eye, his wife is falling to the ground. There's a stunned moment of silence and in that instant, the guards are reaching the dias, weapons coming to be drawn from their sheaths. Glacial brown eyes shift from his wife, to Petra and then Aeliana and it's only then that he notices the dagger. A sigh comes to pass and as he looks to the guards, a flicker of a frown crosses his lips, "Stand down. Fetch the Maes .." He pauses, realization setting in, "Fuck .. summon someone with knowledge of herbs and the like in the Maester's absence. Send a rider for the Maester in the mean time." His eyes return to his wife, even as he moves to kneel down beside her.
It's one of those unintentionally comedic moments, as Aleister glances at Petra, and there's just the slightest shrug and blink, as if to say, "I don't know either." But then it's broken, and the courier is stepping back, giving Aleister room to move to kneel by his wife. Oddly enough, she doesn't even really look at Cherise, but moves around, if she can, to try to reach the other Charlton lady, and help to get her clear of the danger, the sap slipped back into a pocket as she moves, "Fetch the Castellan!" It's not a shriek, it's firm and collected, but Petra does try to raise her voice to be heard above the wailing of the Septa. "Why is there always so much praying?"
"You saw it," Aeliana looks to be in shock. There's loose strands of hair flittering free of her shoulders, strands pulled loose by her brother's wife. There's blood on her scalp too, where those nails dug in and it's only when she sees that blood on her hand and on the gleam of steel that it all seems to come crash in around her. "She…," long legs drawn up into the chair now; Ae is climbing up over the side, her grip still white knuckled about that dagger, her hands shaking. "She wasn't letting go..he couldn't…he couldn't make her…I.. Oh gods, what…." And then, pale of face and quite unable to look at her brother as he knelt, Aeliana all but collasped into Petra as she neared. "I didn't mean…"
The Septa has some skills though not nearly enough to treat a wound such as this. Holding pressure against the source of the lady's bleeding, she's still trying to lure the woman to remain awake with subtle taps at the cheek. "Please m'lady… fight it." While the commotion carried on above the elder devotee shook her head, "I will pray she lives." She murmured spitefully while trying to console the fallen lady as much as she can. There was breathing but weakened. Possibly due to both the crack against the head, the droughts and now a likely fatal stabbing. "Wake up dear… please." It was not time to join her son. Cherise did stir, only in the lips that muttered intangible silence.
"Yes .. my Castellan. Fetch her. Now." That's what Aleister offers once he's drawn himself down to his knee's and it's to no one in particular. His gaze does play over to the Septa, so that he can offer a cruel, "This is your fault. Your fault!" Then, he's looking back to Cherise, to claim one of her hands in his, to lift it to his lips and to brush a kiss to the back of it, only to lower it a touch, though he doesn't seek to release it. Instead, he's looking back up, eyes playing amongst those that have gathered, so that he can call out again, "Where is she? Where is my Castellan!?" Of course, the Guards had already gone to fetch her, but it's not as if it's an instant thing.
Petra, if nothing else, is a woman who knows what she can do and what she cannot. And as her skills in chiurgeonry amount to knowing enough to handle large splinters and maybe the occasional stubbed toe, she remains out of the way of anyone who might be able to give Cherise more knowledgeable assistance. She can, however, manage to keep Aeliana from falling, as she stumbles in reaction, the two women nearly of a height and weight. "There's nothing for it now, but what's been done." She will try to keep a hold of the woman, turning to keep her mostly away from those guards and their steel, those that remain at least.
One of the guards does leave to fetch the Castellan, a few curious staff members peeking their heads on in to see what all the ado is about in the process. Thankfully most of them missed the altercation - instead merely seeing the crumpled Lady of the Keep with her Lord Husband standing over while others are poised throughout the room. Even in the grim moment, whispers start to chitter down the halls before they quickly duck back out again, lest they earn the ire of those still present.
It takes several minutes since the guard was dispatched to seek out the Castellan before he finally returns with the tall blonde woman trailing after. Ysadora's steps slow a bit as she lets her gaze sweep amongst those present with a firm pressing of her lips. When her attentions finally fall to the crumpled Lady, she moves deliberately towards her, words commanding in a firm manner, "Who in the name of the Gods let her out of her room. She was to be sedated." Green eyes slide to the Septa pointedly, the woman's lips pursing more, "Fetch me hot water, basin, bandages, and alcohol - now!" Glancing to the guards, she instructs them sternly, "Lift her onto one of the tables and fetch my basket from the study."
While all blame was laid to the Septa she still maintained her dignity. "A woman cannot heal if she is treated as some prisoner." The elder woman returned while smoothing a wrinkled and spotted hand across the damp brow of the blonde Charlton. "She is the Lady of this Keep, she deserves to seek comfort where she may." And found none on her journey. The lifted hand in Aleister's possession would feel limp, no stirring or efforts to move. Just there.
Aeliana was like a marionette against Petra; her weight balanced just enough not to bring them both down. A flicker of appreciation too, for the turn that saw her further from the guard's steel. "Aleister…," his name is on her lips in a ragged little whisper of apology. Face pale, cheeks stained with falling tears. "Aleister please, I'm…oh Cherise… Gods forgive me." And further, she begins to ease herself gently from the grouping.
Ysadora's sudden appearance and voice has Aleister blinking once and then twice before he's casting a look over in her direction and when she begins to approach, he's looking back to Cherise and then to her hand. A moment later, he's releasing it, to settle it upon her stomach before he's rising and stepping out of the way, to allow the guards to sheath their weapons and move to pick her up, to place her upon a table off the dias. It's then that Aleister looks to Aeliana, his head coming to nod slightly as he offers a soft, "I know." A look to Ysadora comes next and he's following it with, "Do all that you can, Ys." Then, to Petra, so that she is offered a nod and finally, he's looking back to Ael as she tries to ease from the group, but he's lifting a hand to her and offering, "Come here."
Petra remains between sister and guards and brother, a turn and a dip of her head allowing her to get a glance around behind the noblewoman in her arms, lips moving barely perceptibly, as she speaks to the younger woman. But there's a subtlety to the movement, and as she catches Aleister's eye, his nod is acknowledged with one of her own and she does try to begin to steer the younger woman in her brother's direction. It might be a fight, but she has her orders and she seems up for the task.
Petra whispers, "It would not do to leave your brother's side so soon. He will have need of you, before the end." to Aeliana.
Petra could feel, as well as any who looked could see the little tremble that went through the girl when her brother bid her come. There was resistance in her steps, a hint of a struggle as she's hearded across the room in his direction. "Aleister, please, please it was an accident and you couldn't make her move, she wouldn't let go, I was scared! You saw her with the baby!! You saw her attack me…I didn't mean…Aleister please!" And that knife, it still gleams in her hand. Trembling, she passes it off to Petra, prepared to face her brother's judgment. Looking up with dark tear stained eyes in his direction; as she finally draws her head away from Petra's neck. "…please."
Aeliana whispers to Petra: Could you clean that please, I'm going to need it back.
"I do not recall asking for your opinion on the matter, Septa. Seclusion is entirely what is necessary for healing when one's mind and spirit are in need of mending," Ysadora snaps towards the older Septa as she instead gestures for one of the guards to fulfill her earlier request for those items. Once Cherise is hoisted up onto the table, the Castellan moves towards her and begins to start tearing away at the fabric surrounding the wound. Reaching to touch the area around it in assessment, she immediately tears part of her own skirt and begins to press against the puncture to staunch the flow of blood, "First rotting babies and now gut wounds, seriously Milady, you are going to owe me an entirely new wardrobe at this rate." She seems to address Cherise as she waits rather impatiently for her supplies.
As Aeliana is herded towards him, Aleister takes a step towards her and once she's close enough, he's offering, "Shh, Aeliana. I know." He doesn't stop there, though, for he's looking to Petra and then back to his sister and now, he moves to draw her into a hug, to gently smooth a hand through her hair as he offers again, "It's okay, Ae. She will be fine. This isn't your fault." There's a softer murmer, then, that a brush of his lips against her hair as he tightens that hug for a moment.
<FS3> Cherise rolls Body: Success.
With the Lady seemingly bent on doing as her Lord Brother commands, Petra steps back, the bloody knife now palmed in her hand, the courier making no move to hide the thing. She does not, however, hold it as though she intended to use it. Again, that glance around the room, and her voice raising to call to a few of the women sneaking glances from the second floor and then from the kitchens, "Get the Castellan what she needs, water, basin, alcohol, bandages!" Watch it. Petra's got the frowny face on. It's enough to get the maids running. With the guards already on their way and the scullery maids now too, hopefully Ysadora will soon have what she needs. But aside from the sound of her voice, before and after Aleister's glance and Aeliana's release, she's still as a statue.
<FS3> Ysadora rolls Chiurgeonry: Good Success.
As the supplies finally are brought in and set upon the table beside her, Ysadora gradually lifts the cloth from the wound to get a better look. Her nose visibly wrinkles with somewhat disdain at the sight before she sighs and looks to one of the other guards, "You.. hold this cloth in place while I ready the astringent."
The guard that just recently deposited her supplies looks to the wound, clearly not entirely comfortable with touching the body of the Lady of the Keep lest something go awry, yet relents all the same. Hands freed, the Castellan poors the kettle of hot water into the basin and begins to mix it with equal portions of alcohol before taking one of the cloths and dipping it in the cleanser. Allowing it to soak up the solution, she then reclaims the cloth and looks to the guard holding the bloodied piece of her gown in place, "Remove it." Her instructions are rather curtly offered yet clear as she then proceeds to wring the liquid from the cloth over the wound - followed by applying pressure as she instructs the guard once more, "Now, hold this in place."
"Ale…," Timid is the creature that meets him, still as Petra was for a moment once she was released. Her dark eyes searching her brother's face, tense as if he may attack. She's seen his temper. And yet…yet he's gentle and that crushes her more than anything else; those slender arms twining in around his neck when he draws her in, so that she can press close and hide her face, hide the tears on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry." Again, as if it's all she can say and the shock hasn't left.
Aleister doesn't look over in the direction of Cherise and Ysadora, trusting that the Castellan will do what she can and as such, he's giving another to Aeliana, another soft murmer as he offers, "I know. It's alright. It will be alright." Then, his eyes shift over to Petra, regarding her for a moment and when he nods, it's to offer, "Lend your hand to Ysadora, Petra. She will need all the help that she can get, in tending to the wound." Now, he moves to guide Aeliana from the dais and then over towards the door that leads to the Reading Room.
A nod, a murmured, "As you say, my Lord," and now Petra does spirit the dagger away, seeming less concerned about the state of her dress than in keeping the item safe. But she does as instructed, moving to assist the Castellan as the woman instructs. She knows how to follow instructions, and seems not at all squeamish about touching the Lady of Highfield or whatever else might be needed of her. "I will do whatever you need, Mistress."
The Septa stands close by, ready to lend aid where she may though it is mostly her prayers she depends upon. Cherise, while on the table, is for the most part motionless. Groggy yes for there's the occasional murmur through her dried lips and the eyes. They open but unfocused. Catching glimpses of the persons around her and unable to regain enough consciousness to target on anyone in particular.
<FS3> Ysadora rolls Chiurgeonry: Good Success.
Aeliana's directed easily beneath her brother's control. No more than a puppet that remains upright on her feet. The few times that her gaze does touch on Cherise there's such sorrow in their depths, apology as well. Not another word slipped past her lips for now.
Cherise spends 1 luck points on body.
<FS3> Cherise rolls Body: Failure.
As the Courier steps up to replace the wan-looking guardsman, Ysadora gives her a faint nod as she instructs again, "Apply a bit more pressure so she does not bleed out entirely while I prepare the needle." Even as she offers instruction, her gaze cannot help to glance down at her own blood soiled dress as she sighs and reaches on over to extract her needle from her basket along with some corded thread. Clearly not having forseen this sort of event, her supplies are minimal and the rather vivid 'green apple' dyed thread will have to do. Dropping the needle into the sterilizing bowl, the Castellan fishes it out and begins to thread it rather quickly, as she continues, "I am no Maester and this is not the best threading, but it is going to have to do. I will be sure to add the proper materials to the next supply order." Her attentions slide back to the semi-resting Cherise as she takes a deep breath, "Keep her as still as possible." She poises herself as she nods towards Petra, "Alright, remove it."
Petra is quick and sure in her movements, indicating that she likely has experience assisting in such turns of events. No words except when required and no questions. Whatever the Castellan instructs, as her Lord commanded. But if she'd efficient, she's not brusque and she takes what care she can not to cause further pain and damage to the Lady of Highfield. Sure hands hold the bandage to the wound, fingers spread to cover the length, staunching the flow as she can. As Cherise begins to stir, Petra moves, keeping hold of the bandage as she's instructed, but attempting to angle herself so that she can use her body to hold down Cherise. Though considering the mammoth like strength the grieving woman showed earlier, it might all be for naught. The bandage is removed, as Ysadora moves in to begin sewing. It's a bit macabre, perhaps, but Petra's eyes never leave the wound, as if she were trying to mark and remember the Castellan's movements for later study.
There really is no painless way to stitch a wound of this caliber, so Ysadora does not waste any time with delicacies of any nature. Armed with needle and green apple threading, she digs that needle into the flesh and begins to seal it up stitch by ever-loving stitch. Never once looking away from her task, she instructs her assistant yet again, "Hold the flesh as close together as you can until the wound is not visible at all." The Castellan's fingers move deftly over the length of the wound, keeping close together as she seems to do an impressive job of sealing it up. However materials being what they are, there is no real telling how long the patchwork job will hold - but for the night it will most definitely suffice.
The pressure felt of being held down is challenged by another stir of movement. This time the Septa aids and offers soothing whispers against the lady's ear to lure her back to rest. It's not working. Cherise is opening her eyes and feeling around her upon the table, slowly "Off.." She manages to say. "Me." Another word that took far too much effort to say coherently enough.
Hands sullied with the blood of the Lady Highfield, along with matching splotches upon her own fine dress, the Castellan cannot help but grimace as a flicker of a sour expression marrs her features. When Cherise begins to stir, she looks over to the Septa with a slow shake of her head and narrowing of her eyes, "Since you seem to be incapable of managing her Ladyship and ensuring she neither does harm or come to harm's way, I will be assigning new attendants to her bedside and speak with Captain Caddoc about placing guards outside her chamber doors. I will have medicines sent with her meals and you will make sure she eats everything upon her tray and takes them at the proper intervals. If /anything/ further befalls her Ladyship, I will consider it to be your personal neglect in your duties and ensure you are held entirely accountable for the ordeal. Are we understood, Septa?"
Petra does as Ysadora bids, light fingers stained with Cherise's old blood and the new holding the wound closed, and giving the Castellan time for her needle to do its work. But Petra can feel Cherise moving below her, and even if her hands hold steady, her eyes move to try to meet Cherise's. "No," is the first, firm answer to the Lady's demand, "Lady Cherise," never my Lady, just Lady, only Aleister warrants a 'my' from the courier, "If you move you will die. If you want to die, I don't care. But your husband does. Lie still." A glance up at Ysadora, "Shall I render her unconscious, Mistress?" She still has that sap in her pocket.
That much she heard and the lady strongly protested, "Enya. Stays." And to make it worse the Lady does try to move, to sit up and see just what the two women were fussing over. Herself it seemed. The Septa nodded, "Of course Castellan, I would never wish harm upon m'lady." Though her eyes did make a pointed glance in Petra's direction. Who also received the glossy attention of Cherise as well at the mention of her husband and simply remains still, tired. So very tired. "I do not care."
Looking from Petra and her sap back to the stirring Lady, the Castellan seems to seriously be entertaining the thought of rendering Cherise unconscious. However she finally shakes her head, "No. She will fall back to the darkness from the pain soon enough. If necessary, I will simply have the guards restrain her." As her patient speaks, Ysadora rolls her eyes a little, "Fine, Septa Enya stays and will administer the draughts given to her." Looking to the Septa, her green eyes narrow, "Do not make me regret this decision," her attentions slowly slide to the lingering guards, "Please move her to one of the suites in the guest wing where others will not hear her screams when the fever comes. I will speak with Captain Caddoc about adding guards to the detail. Be done with it!" She instructs as she starts to collect the supplies to finish the clean up as her orders are carried out.