| To Speak of Things |
| Summary: | Bastien comes to get Aleister to talk about his feelings, only to have Aeliana arrive shortly later, followed by someone deciding to scale a wall of the garden fence. |
| Date: | 18-Oct-2012 |
| Related Logs: | Sela's Punishment: Under The Lash. |
| Players: |
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| Gardens - Tanglewood Manor |
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| Much of these gardens remain largely untouched, since the construction of the Keep; enclosed now by the towering wall and overlooked by the rear of the building. Trees yet linger, old and strong with sprawling boughs and unruly roots in places. The ground remains uneven, as well as set in a lazy slope, with little rocky outcroppings dotting the lush grass here and there. The main body of the lawn is well enough tended.. but these ancient guardians of foliage and flora lend the impression of being far, far removed from the troubles of the Riverlands. Further off toward the east, led to by a neat path along the top of the hill, a rather less wild expanse of growth can be discerned through the trees. |
| 18 Oct 289 |
It's certainly been an interesting couple of weeks for the Charlton's-turned-Ashwoods and for most of it, Aleister has confined himself to the santuary of his room, with the exception of the brief excursions to The Twins and a brief ride with Aeliana today. Now, though, he's not retreated back to the walls of his room, having chosen instead to venture out into the gardens, a spot where few people actually find their way to visit. He's near to one of the far walls, lingering about where the path angles to the east and up behind the keep and at this moment, he simply seems to be enjoying the quietness of it all.
With the day's training drills over, Bastien finds himself with some free time. Stalking quietly through the halls of Tanglewood, the large man is dressed down. A simple chain shirt hugs casually to his upper body, and a pair of leathers fit his legs comfortably. With his hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword, the man looks more like a mercanary than a Master at Arms. Coming upon the garden, Bastien's searching eyes spot his older brother. Clearing his throat as he approaches, so as not to surprise the man, Bastien lifts a hand in greeting. "Aleister. One would never think a Lord would be so hard to find in his own castle."
Aleister turns at the clearing of the throat and when his eyes comes to settle upon Bastien, there's a slight incline of his head and just the hint of a smile that dances to his lips, "Sometimes, Bastien, it pays to take some time to one's self. To get away and make it so that they can not be found; to reflect and delve upon that in which has transpired." But, a hand lifts, to give an idle wave as if dismissing such a thought, "But, that is not I. I've managed to steal a moment or two, where I won't be whisked away to deal with matters. As such, I chose to find my way here, where few would seek to look."
"Then I fear my purpose here will be an unpleasant one." Closing the distance between them, Bastien stops short ways away and shifts from one foot to another. The normally stoic and quiet man's mask is shed as his eyes examine his older sibling. "I've not had a chance to give you my ear and shoulder on the matters which have plagued us, as of late." Those deep brown eyes of Bastien's wander away from his brother to look upon the garden. It is quite a pleasant place, isn't it? "I've talked to Aeliana and Robben. You know Robben. He has his way and is taking everything in stride, meanwhile Aeliana is…coping in her own way. I've yet to have a chance to talk to you though, brother. If there is anyone who's morale is at risk, it is you." Despite whatever aftermath might come from prying into his brother's mind, Bastien's gaze slips back to settle solidly on Aleister as those last few words leave his mouth.
There's a low chuckle that escapes past Aleister's lips as he offers another slight incline of his head in Bastien's direction, and it's followed by, "While I appreciate such things, Bastien, I am not one who freely speaks my mind on such matters." Shifting a bit so that he comes to face Bastien more fully, he follows with, "And Robben is Robben. He will accept no matter what comes. Aeliana, though, was struck harder by this, brother. These events have past have split our family and she was close to both my side and that of Uncle Harold. But even she will endure, for she is far too much like me to simply let it bother her for any length of time." A slight pause happens and then it's followed by that of a soft chuckle, one that's accompanied by a shift of his hand as he taps the mace at his side, "And, I tend to help my morale on the training grounds."
Bastien's head shakes ever so slightly as his brother brushes off the question. "I would not expect you to speak your mind freely to just anyone, but you know if there is one person in the entirety of Westeros to whom you could trust such thoughts, it is I." Considering his track record, the words are not boisterous and more a simple observation of fact, as far as the second oldest Ashwood is concerned. After a short pause, Bastien continues. "You and Aeliana are alike, yes, in your stubborness to admit it when things wear on you. I do not expect you to change that, but I do expect you to take the liberty of relying on those who remain close to you through the toughest of times when you truly need to. Bottling things up will not make them go away, it will only cause the infection to fester. Remember that well, brother." In response to the tapping of the mace, Bastien's mouth curls up into a slight grin as he shakes his head. "As hypocritical as it sounds, not everything can be solved through violence. A lot can. A lot. Quite a bit, actually. But not everything."
Now, there's just the touch of a laugh that begins to sound before Aleister is giving another nod of his head, "I will certainly keep that in mind, Bastien, but I am not one to freely talk about matters of the mind .. even in the company of family. Things will come and things will go and in the end, they will work themselves out. This is the nature of things." Lifting his arms upwards, he crosses them over his chest, "But, I will consider the offer that you make, brother, and will seek you out if need be." Now, there's a flash of a smirk that dances to his lips, "But you would be surprised what can be accomplished on the training grounds. It's a great way to relieve the tension and stress of events and to bleed away worry."
"I do not deny that." That grin turns into a slight smirk as Bastien takes a step closer to his brother, and lowers his voice. "You have known me all my life, Aleister. In all that time, I have never been one to tell lies or speak mistruths. So please, take me seriously. The foundation we once relied upon has been cracked and we are left with very few who we can truly trust. We must work to make sure that what remains of this family does not fall apart, lest the four of us wind up each stranded alone in a world which would like nothing more than to take what we have earned for itself." Sliding his free hand along the stubble that has started to gather on his chin, Bastien stops for a moment to look upwards toward the sky. "For all the deviations and striving for power, what does it matter if it costs us what little we had to bond us to happiness in the first place?" The melancholic moment is soon gone and Bastien's face fades into a half-smile.
Again that chuckle comes to sound past Aleister's lips as he gives a slight shake of his head, "It is not that I do not take you serious, Bastien, it is that I just do not desire to speak what is on my mind. Matters of the heart and matters of the mind have little place for me, at this time, when there are matters of state that must be dealt with in overwhelming numbers." Now, his shoulders come to lift into a slight shrug, "And I have always been one to keep my thoughts cloaked around me. It is, in a way, my shield, brother." Now, that smirk dances to full form upon his lips, "We have found ourselves set aside. A set back and nothing more. By the same token, it has simply provided us a new opportunity. Power is not without it's costs, after all."
"Just make sure that you keep your priorities straight, brother. I fear to see what will happen should your ambition leave you fully devoid of compassion. Kings and peasants alike have succumbed to that bittersweet fruit." The scruff on his chin is palmed over one last time before Bastien's hand falls to his side. Tucking it behind the loop of his belt, the large man leans back and stretches his shoulders. Letting out a pleasured yawn, he looks away from Aleister to admire the garden once more. "I must also warn you against Ceinlys. She has become my friend, but you remain my brother. My real family. The woman wants only for power. Despite whatever lusts may take the both of you, I trust you know to be wary of her." That smirk turns into a grin as he looks back towards Aleister. "Enjoy yourself as much as you want, but be careful of the thorns that rose hides." Having gotten his fill of trying to advise his brother, Bastien lifts his hands into the sky and streeeetches. "I hear you have sent away Aeliana?"
"Compassion. It has been whispered for months, Bastien, that I have little of such a thing." That particular statement brings an almost wicked curve of that smirk to Aleister's lips, though it fades after a moment, for there's a slight lift of his brow and a cant of his head to follow, "Oh? And what has brought you to that conclusion about Ceinlys, brother? I'm a touch surprised to hear that escape past your lips." A pause and a slight shake of his head comes to pass, "Aeliana has not been sent away. She's tending to duties on behalf of the House. Or will be."
Bastien shakes his head. "Call it what you will. I worry she'll grow distant if she spends too much time away." It's said with a whistful sigh as Bastien reluctantly shrugs his shoulders. To the other question, Bastien looks over towards Aleister and chuckles. "Surely you see it in her? The woman is sharp as a blade and twice as fast. She'll not be content with simply doting after your dick and hoping for a prize." Resting his hands comfortably behind his head, Bastien turns towards the entrance to the gardens from whence he came. "I have seen her in a mood over your time spent with the castellan. She wants you for herself, and that is dangerous." With those words, the Master at Arms starts to wander away. "Also, give me permission to beat on Robben. The boy needs to learn a weapon sooner than later and I'll not have him dodging out on training sessions."
Bastien's reply draws the hint of a snort from Aleister, one that comes with a slight shake of his head, "She will not grow distant, brother. Trust me on that. I know Aeliana almost as well as I know myself." A pause comes and then there's another shake of his head, "She wants what I have to offer, Bastien. Of this, I am quite aware. But I am surprised to hear you warn me of such a thing .." Now, a hand lifts to give an idle wave, ".. and I'm curious whether it is so that you might have her for yourself. After all, there have been rumors of you chasing after here, whereever she goes." A cluck of his tongue sounds and then there's another lift of his hand and another slight wave is given, "If you can convince him to get in the training grounds, then teach him."
With a crown of wildflowers on her head, Aeliana lingered just the opposing side of the path where it turned off near the orchards. "Almost as well?" The littlest sister's voice drawls as she slips into view; resplendant in house colors; the new green of their house doing wonders for her complexion. "My oh my, we're talking about one of Ale's harem, aren't we?" A wry twist took her lips as she moved in to stand at Aleister's side; one dainty arm moving to slip in through one of his own. The one he wasn't waving around, as it happens. "Bastien likes me best when I cry, Ale. Wonder how he likes -her-?" Inquired ever so sweetly.
Determination should be Sela Hill's middle name. All those years climbing and running all over Flint's Finger has paid off as she balances her toes on the edge of hewn stone, her gloved hands gripping at various edges and corners until she can loop an arm over the top of the wall. The bastard girl is dressed more like a boy in softened linen breeches and a leather jerkin fastened over a simple tunic. A woolen hat caps her hair, keeping it off her neck and out of the way. The most important detail about her appearance however is the dripping wetness despite the fact there isn't a rainy cloud in the sky. As said, determination is Sela Hill's middle name. Though, perhaps if she wasn't so determined she would have heard all the chatter going on in the garden she is just about to intrude into.
Bastien stops in his tracks and laughs. "Can no man spend more than five seconds with a woman before the harpies start insisting they must be inspecting the back of one another's throats?" Looking over his shoulder, Bastien smiles at Aleister as he shoots down the rumor. "She is a beautiful woman, there is no doubt. I care for her as I would a friend, she has become such a thing to me with her time spent as my charge. Our relationship stretches no further than that, and if you abandoned her, I would not risk your displeasure for such base desires." Turning away, he lifts a hand and waves as he walks away. "Besides, she's far too obsessed with what you have to offer to pay me any mind." As Aeliana makes herself known and says those things, Bastien sticks his tongue out at the youngest sibling present. "It's so hard not to like you when you cry, it makes you adorable, little sister." Bowing his head, a more serious tone takes its place upon the man's words. "I will leave you both to whatever it is that you wished to discuss. I must attend to my duties."
Aeliana's entrances sparks a flit of Aleister's eyes in her direction and there's a quick, "Yes. Almost as well. Still some things that are a mystery. As it should be." A teasing smirk and then there's a chilled laugh and a slight shake of his head, "Hardly a harem. And even less so, these days, I'm afraid. But I could hire a few more women. Maybe a dozen more. Fill my chambers with blondes, brunette's, redheads. Then I could have a harem." The tone is joking, there's no denying that and a moment later, he's looking back to Bastien, "Rumors will always sound when one spends time in the company of a women, brother. You should know this." As his arm comes to be claimed by Aeliana, he's looking to her again before looking back to Bastien, "No need to run away so soon, if you've no desire to, Bastien." Sela, for the moment, goes unnoticed.
"Friends," Aeliana's head falls against Aleister's shoulder, "We're friends, aren't we? Of course, I'm also you're sister and no one would dare suggest such a thing but…friends with her?" There's something entirely too sweet about that smile as she watches Bastien walk away, whilst chuckling softly at Aleister's response. "I demand the rights to pick them, if you must. We could certainly ensure you kept an heir that way," she shrugged, nose twitching faintly at Bastien. "Well of course it does. I'm always pretty when I cry. Let him go, Ale, he really doesn't understand things the same way we do." And she was running out of ways to beat it into his head. Thus for the moment, do her brother's take up the bulk of her attention and Sela's presence goes unnoticed by her as well. After all, there's men present. They ought to be the ones paying attention anyway.
Bastien shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively. "I would love to stay and partake in this discussion of your harem, but such things make me squeemish. I'll instead go break someone's nose, it might take my mind off the idea of it." Despite the words which are said in jest, the large man crosses the garden back towards them and stops in front of his little sister. "In case I do not get to see you off." Short of a kick between the legs, he gives her a bear of an affectionate hug and a peck on the forehead, fighting through whatever ministrations she doles out in response, before finally taking his leave. Her words of 'Its just how we are' seem to fall on deaf ears.
If only Bastien knew he might get to punch a little bastard in the nose instead! Alas. Sela maintains a low center of gravity, not daring to stand on the wall; instead, she angles herself until she is lying parallel on top. This allows her to keep upright as she swings her legs over the other side, boot toes finding their grip on lumps of stone. Everything is going well, she may be even to lightly drop to the ground in a few moments, but that would make this tale rather boring. Just as her weight is placed on the next foothold, an unseen crack gives way, and down she goes. She doesn't yelp, nor cry, but the sound of her body hitting the ground is perhaps a rather unusual thump. Stars explode before her vision, and she feels her lungs constrict as all the air goes whooshing out of her.
"Friends. Such a grand thing," is what Aleister comes to offer to the pair, immediately, and it's once more followed by that hint of a laugh and a shake of his head in the direction of Bastien. He doesn't offer anything further to his brother, though, choosing instead to shift his attention to Aeliana, to offer her a deep smirk and a lift of a brow, "You'd have too much fun picking them, sister. And I'm sure I'd regret letting you do such a thing." A shadowed wink and then a nod before Bastien is seeking to claim her in that hug and when he moves to walk away, he's watching for the moment. But, his attention shifts at the soft of an unusual thump in the relatively quiet gardens. Eyes begin to scan the surroundings and when they come to settle upon the relative direction of where the sound came from, his eyes begin to narrow a touch, "What the .."
With one arm locked firmly through Aleister's, Aeliana doesn't release it to make Bastien's hug any easier. Instead she half clings even as she wrinkles her nose at his overly obvious display of affection and rolls her eyes, baring all in silent indifference until he's released her and she's free to brush against the hem of her gown. "You're going to give me wrinkles," she chides at his departing back and tips her head up to look at Aleister instead. Something dark in those eyes, something mirth touched in the curl of her lips; a gnelt squeeze of her hand and anything that might have been said is lost to the thump and sudden appearance of the sprawled 'boy' on the ground. "Guards! Seize the guttersnipe!"
Sela attempts to sit up, but all the movement does is cause the already-loosened hat to drop away from her head. Molasses-colored hair cascades down around her shoulders and back, splaying out as she drops back onto the ground. She is gasping for breath, a hand going behind her to press into her spine. Without even thinking about it, she is wiggling her toes and stretching her legs, and she feels a rather terrible ache run through her — but at least everything works. This assessment all happens within a matter of moments, and it is punctuated with a soft groan. Just as she starts to ease herself up again, she hears the call for guards. Instincts kick in, and she is scrambling backwards on her palms and rump, but there is nowhere to go. She is still trying to find her voice, swallowing mouthfuls of air as she does.
It's only when that call of Guards comes to pass that Aleister's eyes finally settle upon the figure of Sela and for a moment, he simply regards the girl dressed like a boy. That moment passes and he's looking to his sister, to offer a shake of his head and a quick, "Still the guards for the moment, sister." Extracting him from his sisters grasp, there's a step taken in the direction of Sela, even as she scrambles backwards to find only that wall and that action draws a smirk to the Lord's lips, "Well. Well. It would seem that one of the maids has gotten lost. Or has been sneaking out when she shouldn't have been."
"But…why would a maid, be prowling around dressed as a boy, over the garden that the Lord remained in unless it was up to no good?" Aeliana inquired in soft dulcet tones, following in her brother's wake. "What say you little girl," the question was aimed past Aleister towards Sela, missed on more than one occasion for a decided lack of spending any time at all getting personal with the help. "Just what were you doing? Has someone been paying you to listen, hmm?"
Petra arrives from the Great Hall.
Petra has arrived.
"Milord," Sela wheezes, "I mean no offense nor harm." She pulls at the stitch in her chest, though her heartbeat is pounding despite the fact that all her blood has drained from her face. She has squeezed herself up against the wall, boot heels grinding into the soft peat of the garden bed. Too-blue eyes jump from Aleister to Aeliana, and back again. Words seem to have escaped her as she stares into Aleister's smirking face, though she quickly averts her eyes. "I was… comin' to see Lady Cherise." She looks up toward Aeliana, and her mouth twists a bit.
A cold chuckle begins to escape past Aleister's lips as he murmers, "Fuck if I know, sister." His eyes remain fixed upon Sela, though, and with another step towards her, he lets Aeliana pose her question. It's only when an answer comes from the maid that he's giving a shake of his head and offering a hint of a, "Tsk. Tsk," before finally offering, "Lady Cherise is not accepting visitors at this time, maid, and nor would see accept one who ventured in from over a wall." There's a flit of his eyes in the direction of Aeliana and when he's looking back to Sela, it's to offer, "Did the Lady send for you, maid?"
"Fuck if you do," Aeliana teases, humor dancing in her eyes as she lets them slip back towards her brother. But only for a moment. Just one. It's that mention of Cherise that brings her attention back with hawkish fascination onto Sela's slight frame as she steps in near Aleister's side once more. "Let…me see if I understand this correctly. You serve in my brother's house. By his kindness are you fed and clothed and his generosity do you have time of your own away from your duties as well. So..if you serve him, then he must be a just Lord, no? And yet…you seek to decieve him, the one whose coin lines your pockets, to sneak through the sanctity of his Home as a common theif. Disrespecting him to the point of forgoing even the courtsey of asking for permission. Of disrespecting him further, by not even showing proper courtsey to his Station. I think, Brother, that the girl could use a lesson in manners and I have -just- the thing to give it."
Always when a girl wants some peace and quiet is when disaster seems intent on happening. The courier is not the sort to look for peace and quiet. She does, apparently, seem to be the sort intent on getting to the orchards, a path that necessitates going through the rather unruly gardens. The sound of familiar voices gets her head turning, and she stops, basket in hand, looking as pure and innocent as a doe, as she looks over towards the small group. Or she would, if her eyes hadn't narrowed a bit at the sight of Aleister and his sister and..someone or another. Petra doesn't hail them, of course, as that would be rude, as they seem to be involved, but she also makes no move to depart without their acknowledgement and leave.
"Yes, yes, she did," the bastard says rapidly, her words cut with that Northern edge. "She didn't want no one to see me comin' in, so she told me the wall was the easiest way. Her window is even open for me, Milord." She pauses long enough to whet her lips. "She needed somethin' from me, Milord… but I can't do it. She's fuckin' — I mean," Sela closes her eyes, steadying herself a bit. "She's gone crazy, Milord." She juts out her jaw a bit, and Aeliana's words cause a flush of anger to bring color back into those pallid cheeks. "I would not lie to Lord Ashwood," she says without a single quiver in her words — steady as the wall she is pressed against. "It was all well and good when I was workin' for the Lady Ashwood, but she ain't that anymore."
Petra's entrance into the gardens go unnoticed for the moment .. or if it doesn't, Aleister doesn't acknowledge her for the moment. His eyes narrow as Sela speaks further and there's a slight shake of his head and a low chuckle, one that's void of any humor and contains nothing more then a cold chill, "The Lady Cherise will be dealt with for such a thing. But as I have said, she is accepting visitors no more." Now, he's looking back towards Aeliana once more, regarding his sister for a moment before looking back in the direction of Sela, "You will be assigned extra shifts in the kitchen, maid, and it will be without coin for a period of two weeks. Anything that Lady Cherise asked you to do, should be spoken of now and then forgotten."
"Darling, the Lady is a guest of House Ashwood until such a time as arrangements are made to have her elsewhere," Aeliana gently reminded her brother; though as she turned to look to him when it was said, it brought Petra into her line of vision and the ghost a smile touched on her lips, gone in the next moment as her attention returned to the annoyed kitchen maid. Yet…it wasn't to Sela she spoke; though her lips found a smirk that was all too reminscent of her brothers. To him she leaned and it was against his ear she offered council, leaving the girl time a plenty to answer him.
Rude to leave, inappropriate to approach, Petra seems set in stone where she is, just around the corner of the wall. A dip of her head, a respectful gesture, as Aeliana's gaze passes over her. The basket she sets down on the ground, hands settling at her sides. She may be called or not, but regardless, she waits, eyes settled somewhere on the ground and grass not far from the Ashwood siblings' feet.
Perhaps because Sela is looking out toward the gardens, she easily spots Petra. Her blue gaze lingers on her just for a moment before she is looking back up at Aleister. As the Lord's sister whispers to him, she is indeed given a moment to steady her thoughts. She straightens up against the wall, though she does not dare stand while under the gaze of the two nobles. When she speaks next, she does so without the panic. "I've been listening for her. She says you are letting her die, Milord… and that I've got to help her escape. That's all I know, Milord."
Whatever Ael says draws a slight grin to Aleister's lips, though it's one that comes with a slight shake of his head. His lips move in a silent whisper as he leans to murmer in his sister's ear and when he straightens and flits a look, it's then that he catches sight of Petra. A hand lifts to give a touch of a wave and a slight beckoning and then he's looking back towards Sela, "The words you have been told are that of a madwomen, maid, and they will be forgotten. But you should be reminded that it was not the Lady Cherise who ruled these lands, but I. A night in the dungeons and a lashing for each foot of the wall in which you scaled should properly remind you of your place."
Now that Petra's been bidden to approach, the courier does as she's instructed. The basket she leaves where she first stopped, perhaps to be retrieved when her duties are done. And still, no word. She needs none, at least until she's addressed by either of the Ashwoods. A proper curtsey she offers, however, settling easily into the movement, and not rising until she's acknowledged. She does make it close enough to hear the punishment. A glance to the maid of some sort, isn't she(?), before her attention turns to the siblings.
At Aleister's quiet words, Aeliana strokes an affectionate hand down the curve of her brother's shoulder. Not quite a companionable squeeze, not quite a clap on the back, but decidedly pleased none the less. The gleam in her eyes says so. "Mistress Petra," Aeliana's voice calls soft sing-song to the ever beautiful courier, "I believe that we require guards now, if you should like to indulge us. But ere we intrude upon your own time, then I would not see you so impositioned." See, Aeliana's not always terrible to the help. "And we'll need someone to measure the wall." Blink blink, innocent blink.
Aleister's words draw up memories from Flint's Finger, her mother shaking out yards of beautiful fabric that would become a dress for one of the Flints. That was how Sela comprehended measurements, and now she looks up the wall and tries to imagine how long that length of fabric would be. "Yes, Milord," she says in a soft, accepting voice. She starts to ease herself onto her feet, the rather petite girl grabbing her hat as she does. The question will be what is going to happen if Garett comes calling trying to figure out where she's gone…
That affectionate stroke of Aeliana's hand along the curve of his shoulder draws a flash of a smirk from Aleister, followed by that of a slight incline and when she seeks to address Petra, he's looking back to Sela and then turning a touch to regard his courier and scribe, "Mistress Petra. Have the guard measure the wall, while you another escort the maid to the dungeon." A pause is taken, a flit of his eyes to Aeliana and when they return to Petra, he continues with, "And see that the lashes are delivered once the measurement has been completed."
"As you say, Lady Aeliana." A glance to Aleister, to insure that his sister's orders are her Lord's as well, and once the Lord echoes the orders, Petra steps away from the group with a, "Yes, my Lord", walking back the way she came, her voice lifting to call some of the house guards that stand watch by the exit to the great hall. "You, get me an accurate measurement of the distance the Lord Ashwood and Lady Aeliana have indicated." That to the second and smaller guard. To the first and larger, "If she resists, knock her unconscious." Petra looks at the girl, barely more than a child. Not at all sympathetically. "I do hope you don't plan on resisting?" And then, just as softly and politely as she's said everything else, words spoken in Ale's direction, the courier walking back towards the Lord, though they seem directed towards the man she's sending to measure the wall, "And bring a bucket of salt from the kitchens."
If Aleister got a faint pout from his sister, the of all those present he was the only one who would likely know what for. But there was nothing said about it in public, though her smile turned sharp at the corners when Petra requested salt. Yet with things being so neatly handled, Ae looped her arm on down once more through her brothers and sighed an utterly content little sound. "Well, that worked out rather neatly. Though I think for the sake of things, Cherise ought to be moved to a seperate room. Where there is one, there is others."
Sela's jaw sets a bit, though it is more to make sure she does not speak out of turn. She limps forward a few steps, but then she relaxes into a more normalized stride. She looks up toward Petra through the thatch of dark bangs, and she shakes her head to the question of resisting. She's not a total idiot — even if right now, that might be hard to believe. She straightens her shoulders a bit, though she is not bold enough to raise her chin. Though, at the mention of salt, Sela turns those too-blue eyes to Petra with a series of blinks. Well. Fuck.
To Petra, Aleister is offering a slight incline of his head and a quick smirk in the direction of his courier, "A good choice, Pet. Well done." Then, he's looking to Aeliana, that smirk deepening against his lips for the moment and when she comes to loop her arm back through his, he's settling his side against her a touch, "She has already been placed in one of the seperate guest rooms, sister. And a guard has been posted to the door of her room, to ensure that things remain … proper." After all, she's already proven she can not be trusted.
Petra doesn't miss the look the maid gives her, her voice, well, nearly kind, as she answers, "Unless you would prefer that I forgo the salt and allow your wounds to fester? I must admit, I have never had the pleasure of having my flesh rotting from my back, but I would imagine salting hurts…quite a bit less." See? She's being kind. But anything else, well, that can be said later, as Petra and the guard move to take command of the prisoner and escort her away.
