|Summary:||Lucienne meets Isolde and Igara as they arrive at Riverrun.|
|Related Logs:||Riverrun Logs|
|Use your imagination. Or read the set.|
|8 Novermber, 288|
The Red Tower of the keep of the Tullys, named so for the Red Fork that it overlooks, is currently host to nobles from several houses; the Naylands are not one of those, however, accomodated in the ivy-covered Wheel Tower. As news spreads throughout Riverrun that more of the Nayland contingent is arriving, it is from the former and towards the latter that Lucienne makes her way, a basket of wildflowers slung daintily over one arm. Her handmaiden accompanies her, and assorted others bustle to-and-fro as is to be expected in the place where the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands resides.
The forerunners to the small contigent for those yet to arrive representing House Nayland and Frey arrive first, their horses drawn short and pawing at the ground as they move to fan out and make room for the carriage coming not far down the road. As the construct jostles about, the two occupants within facing each other, Isolde is one. Leaning heavily against the window opening that is opened to the air, she lets her head rests against the side, thrown a bit about and looking somewhat pale as she chews on the ginger root. "I can not sit here much longer, I am not feeling well…" The Lady Nayland shifts in her seat and rubs at a temple before green eyes open to look outward, dark hair restrained by an ornate twist that is somewhat rumpled by the road's bumpy reception of their little caravan.
Igara's little book of ladies' verse tumbles from her lap and onto the floor of the carriage between her and Isolde, indicating to the other that somewhere along the line a swoon has mercifully drawn the little Frey into unconsciousness, freeing her from the pain and duress of the road. She'd been aimed generally toward the other window, and now her head's resting against the edge of the window.
And so she pauses as the horses draw up, Lucienne turning to stand and wait to welcome the ladies so dear to her. A smile plays across her face, the ancient feud between their families forgotten for this moment, and she tucks the handle of her basket in the crook of one elbow that she might clasp her hands together girlishly excited. It is all she can do not to call out and wave her arms.
The tumbling book gets Isolde's attention and her eyes shift down to look at it. Drawing away from the window, she shifts and rubs at her face before reaching down to gather up the lost book. "Iggie…" The name is said softly before she rises and moves to sit beside her cousin. Reaching up a hand for her shoulder, she brushes at it gently. The added warmth of her cousin's body does not make her stomach any better but the ginger helps at the very least. The carriage begins to slow and the sound of commands and a few of the riders moving up about them gives Isolde the idea they are arriving. "Gods be good.." She murmurs in soft praise as Ryker takes his horse about and towards the front as the carriage comes to a hault. "Iggie…we are here.." She tries again to wake her dear companion as the door is opened by one of the Nayland men, down from his horse. "Give me a moment.." She intones.
Igara lets loose a half-vocalized sigh at that first effort to rouse her, her alabaster brow furrowing in distress as wakefulness threatens to remind her of how unpleasant the journey was. Her eyes finally open, lop-sided, and as the world is more or less still, she sits up stiffly, hands moving to her lap and picking up her little grey veil to pin up to her hairpiece. "Oh, Issie," she murmurs. "We should have stopped the night hours ago," she adds, a little petulant in her discomfort. But she hides anything uncomely in her expression behind her veil before the lets one of the footmen help her out.
Lucienne contains her enthusiasm just a little longer, her hands clasping tighter, knuckles whitening. Her smile is so rarely this bright, but as Igara exits the carriage, there it is: as warm as the summer sun. She allows the tiny Frey a moment to get her legs back about her on terra firma, before bobbing a step forward to greet, "My lady Igara." There's a slight tilt to her chin as she peers back toward the carriage door expectantly.
"I agree…but we are here now. Perhaps we can be seen to rooms and just languish the rest of the day.." Isolde says, her voice more than hopeful as she steadies Igara from behind with just the faintest of touches from her hand, the book in the other. Stepping down carefully with a side step, she holds her skirts and takes the hand of the sworn after Igara is steady and to her feet. Breathing in the open air, glad to be free of the carriage. She sighs and lifts a hand to tuck a bit of hair from her face. Taking in the sight of Lucienne, the tired expression upon her face suddenly melts as a smile takes up the corner of her mouth. "Luci.." She steps forward and to the side as to get closer to the younger noblewoman.
"Oh, would that," Igara whispers to herself behind her veil, closing her eyes and taking a deep steeling breath of fresh air through her nose and releasing it through her mouth, aimed down along her chin so as not to puff her veil out before her. She sees Lucienne, dim as her figure is through the fabric of the veil, and steps toward her, lowering into a small courtsey. "My Lady Lucienne. How good to see you in person once again. It's been far too long— though our correspondence has been a thing of sure delight."
"Too long indeed," agrees Lucienne warmly, extending her basket to the covered Frey girl. "These are for you both, I thought they might bring you a smile after the wearying journey." The Terrick girl curtsies in kind, and turns her smile to Isolde. "And you, Issie, how I've missed you so. Are you well? Tell me it's so, that the Mire agrees with you?"
Looking to the flowers, Isolde does smile for them. "As I have missed you." There is hesitation for the rest of the answer, but her smile warms again even as it had started to falter. "The Mire is not home, but it suits me well. We are a little late in arriving, but I fear Igara and I have light constitutions and I have been feeling ill more often than not as of late…" There is a look towards the Tully fortress before looking to Lucienne again. "I hope things have been kept civil…peaceful hopefully." She offers.
Igara reaches out for the basket, taking it to herself, not by the handle, but rather cradling it as if it were an infant, turning her veiled face down toward the blossoms, the fabric of the veil draping over the stems. "Why, they're lovely… how very thoughtful, My Lady Lucienne. You remember how poorly the road and I get along."
Lucienne's brows loft as Isolde speaks of feeling unwell, perhaps an unspoken question there. "I am sure your late arrival will be forgiven," she allows, adding, "Civil is perhaps the better descriptor, tensions are high, as you might expect. It's all unpleasant business - you must be unsettled by it, too. Would that there were more joyous reasons to visit the Tullys." Her smile has waned by the time she's finished speaking, the expression now apologetic more than anything. "Are you too worn from the road, Iggie? I'm sure there will be refreshments waiting for you. I would be most honored if we could make some time to all take tea together, but surely it can wait another day."
"I am fair out of sorts, it must be said," Igara offers, voice somewhat stilted, but less with her usual tone of precise and polished manner, and more after the fashion of one endeavoring to make it through the sentence upright. "A place to rest — which is not moving — and some refreshment would scarcely go amiss. But I am certain that you and I must make time to visit with one another. And that the three of us must have tea," she assents gladly.
A grim nod is offered in regards to the dire reasons surrounding the visit. "Deeply unsettling, but I suppose it is to be out with and done finally…no matter the outcome…" She keeps her face schooled by this and then gives her gaze to that of Igara. "I think we would both love the chance to visit with you. For myself, today is too soon and the road still lingers in memory. I could use with some rest and time to recover." Her smile returns. A nod is given as well to Igara at her words. "Yes, we must. For now though, I am sure I will be asked away to address Lord Hoster Tully…with my husband. Thank you ever so for the flowers." She reaches out to place a hand upon Lucienne's arm gently.
"By all means, then do not let me keep you out in this sun any longer," says the Terrick girl, dipping her head graciously to poor Igara. Isolde's hand to her arm is met with a reassuring pat from Lucienne, and a nod. "What small comfort I could offer," she says of the flowers, before dropping into a reverent curtsy for the ladies Nayland and Frey to excuse herself.