(1866-05-25) A Sibling Reunion
A Sibling Reunion
Summary: Alina is alive? A private return to Rovilon and convalescence in their manse, all three l'Saigner siblings are together for the first time in many months.
Date: 1866-05-25
Related: None
Players:
Alina  Lucas  Corvin  

l'Saigner Manse - Noble Circle - Rovilon City - Rovilon - Couviere
Room description
The 25th of Mai, 1866

The l'Saigner manse in Rovilon is bustling with activity, but considering that the coronation is upcoming, the appearance of Master Corvin Fremont and a small retinue through the faegate from Lonnaire was nothing of real note. It is assumed by most that the Duke's bastard son was to be making the manse ready for the Duke's arrival later in the week.

Of course, Lucas l'Saigner had arrived through the faegate from the north only a few days prior, so between the two of the Duke's sons, perhaps things would be set for the Duke to convelesce from his gatesickness in comfort.

A small party of Wraiths stagger into the front hall of the manse, a pair of them, wan and weary-looking, supporting a third that shows evidence of being in the late stages of pregnancy through her loosely-clasped leathers. The pregnant 'Wraith', dark haired and slightly green-tinged, seems to be handling her gatesickness rather poorly.

However, as soon as the door is drawn shut behind them, the pregnant Wraith snaps in an angry tone, "who has been keeping up with this place? Dust everywhere."

Before her shoulders jerk and she dry-heaves. She had already emptied her stomach as soon as they had made it through the gate. Her knees buckle and her hand shoots out and grasps the wall, barely arresting her fall. "…hate… flaming… gates." Alina l'Saigner, less dead than the rumors would otherwise say, though at the moment she quite wishes otherwise, curses, then waves off any help from the other gatesick among the Wraiths. Her blonde hair had been washed through with a nut-brown rinse that will wash out with water, and between that and combat leathers, no one expects the supposedly dead heir to Lonnaire to be walking out a gate. People see what they expect, and a small retinue of Wraiths… well, who notices one more?

Lucas emerges from the kitchen chewing on a honeyed wafer with a wine cup in his other hand. He watches the retching bemusedly from the doorway. "So the dead walk among us," he remarks to his sister before taking another bite of wafer and a sip of wine. His right arm hangs awkwardly and the left side of his face is still red from heat, but in all the fleshknit he took upon his arrival seems to be working.

"Ha! Told you." Corvin says, amusedly, even if he's looking a bit green around the gills himself. He holds his hand out to the Wraith semi-affectionately known as "Big Pie" who grumbles a bit and drops a few coins in Corvin's hand. "Well done returning with all your limbs and organs intact, brother." Which apparently there was some kind of wager on. Though despite Corvin's amusement, he halts his conversation a moment, mostly to hold back his own retching, which..he does, if barely, "We should get you to a bed, sister, or at least a lounger."

To her credit, Alina doesn't even argue, simply nodding with a tight grimace. Once she's settled onto one of the loungers in the sitting room, she finally manages to look Lucas over, and gives him a half smile— only half due to how ill she's feeling. "Looks like you mucked with Grandmother's alchemical munitions," she drawls idly. "At least you're in better condition than Alain's Rest."

Lucas laughs. "Good to see you too, brother," he says before nodding to Alina. "And yes, I did get the chance to play with some. Though if you ever get the chance," he turns so he is speaking to them both. "Two words of advice: run fast." He smiles then and stuffs the wafer in his mouth and drinks down the wine, passing the cup to a servant when he's done. "Anyhow come on, more time to talk when you've both got a place to sit," he shoots a look to Alina adding "Or sprawl."

Corvin moves over and sits down in a nearby chair, looking mildly relieved to be off his feet for the moment. "Well, I could've told you that. Or Marco t'Myrin could have. If he'd run fast enough." Corvin replies to Lucas, grinning just a touch. Of course Marco wasn't in any condition to run when the flames took his manor. "Just in case you're wondering, I'll spoil father's surprise for our new King and let you know that our royal family's foremost spiritual advisor is now a bit too busy being dead to continue his duties." He grins just a touch more towards Lucas, "So what adventures did you get into that nearly got your eyebrows singed off?"

"Well, you seem to have taken my advice to stay warm, little brother," Alina says, and then winces and frowns, her hand moving to her swollen stomach with a pout. "Aiiee. They keep moving, and this isn't helping me feel any better," she grouses. She glances to Lucas again. "How fares my soon-to-be husband?" she queries. "Or have you not seen him? Hard to miss… tall, shiny, and has a giant stick wedged up his—" she cuts herself off, a hint of pink overtaking the wan as her hand settles a bit more firmly on indication that her betrothed might be less… prudish… than she complains. After all, most of the servants at the manse very vividly recall the night they spent together several months previous… and have likely shared such tales with the younger l'Saigner.

Coughing slightly, she changes the subject. "So, DO tell us of your trip to the bitter frozen wastelands of the barbaric north," Alina suggests. "And remind me why I am glad I stayed at home."

Corvin's words recieve a small smirk and a headtilt in his direction. "Yes. Our big brother has a way with… words. And by words, I rather mean killing."

Lucas slumps into a chair, sticking his legs out and scratching idly at his injured arm. "Forgot you used it with the t'Myrin," he says thoughtfully. "Thanks for the warning then," he adds grinning. "But glad to hear the Cardinal is dead. I hope it wasn't an easy death. As for my trip. Not much to tell. Most of it was by gate, a few days vomiting in the snow, a few more marching to our destination and then a bit of a fight. Then when it was all said and done, we burned the place down. Abyss worshipers. Nasty stuff," he lies plainly, aware that they aren't in the sort of surroundings for the true tale to be told. "In all I should have run faster," he continues before nodding to Alina. "And I did see your betrothed from a distance in town, well, either him or the other one. Either way I am sure he will be surprised by your sudden resurrection."

"I'm sure he's fine, sister. He has a reputation as being rather hard to kill, and he's renowned enough that if any great ill had befallen him, we'd have heard of it." Corvin's tone makes it impossible to decipher whether he's consoling Alina or offering condolences, which is probably entirely intentional. "And the Cardinal was probably a bit more swift than I might have liked, but he knew who he had to thank for it before he expired, at least…" He casts a brief, meaningful glance to Alina at that. "And yet again, I managed to "rescue" a couple of random errant…heavily drugged noblewomen. This seems to be forming a pattern…." one that doesn't seem to bother him in the least, really.

Alina wrinkles her nose again. "Abyss worshippers. The most idiotic sort of god-botherers," she comments, before starting to dry heave again. A whimper escapes her lips afterwards, and she looks as defeated and miserable as she always does after a trip through the gates.

"'m glad he's 'round," she mumbles, her hand at her lips for a few moments, swallowing hard. "Easier to get it all done at once, this 'resurrection'." She fumbles with a couple of the clasps on the combat leathers she wears, tugging off some of the armor and letting it fall haphazardly to the floor.

She looks to Corvin and smirks. "Well," she drawls, having heard this story of course, already, but enjoying tormenting her brothers any chance she gets. "Look at that, a heroic l'Saigner. Bloody black sheep, you are," she teases. "Father'll have to unrecognize you."

Lucas nods with grim finality at the news of the Cardinal's death. "Good, things ought to be easier without the Chessmaster controlling the board," he says before making a face as Alina continues to retch. "And drugged women? Do I even want to know why he brought those along?" he asks his brother before saying to Alina. "So, by the sound of it you're planning to make a spectacle of your return? Get it all done at once?"

"Yes, I am truly a discredit to the family name." Corvin replies to Alina with a bemused smirk, hiding his gate sickness relatively well. "It'd be a terrible shame if someone started thinking I was remotely heroic…the scandal!" He looks over to Lucas and chuckles a bit darkly, "Well, we knew the Cardinal had certain carnal appetites for a while now. He kept his secrets better than most, obviously…but that wasn't one of them. Apparently he intended to have a…comfortable exile. He was rather smug nearly to the last." Corvin glances back to Alina and chuckles, "It's our sister. Would you expect anything less?"

"An ungraceful way of putting it," Alina scowls at her younger brother, "but not entirely lacking in accuracy. A return from the dead deserves a certain… panache." She frowns. "Besides," she admits quietly, "I'd like Gabriel to hear it from me, not from some rumormonger. He's to be my husband after all. Our Duke, in time."

Lucas snorts in response to Corvin's remark. "Really not much of a surprise is it?" he asks him before turning to his sister. "Even if it kills him," he adds to the end of Alina's words. "I've gotten to know the northerners on the front. They're ill suited to what we do." Pot, kettle, etc given those words are coming from Lucas.

Corvin shrugs a shoulder, "Not sure we need people that do what we do…we have plenty of those, after all." Corvin chuckles, and displays a slightly more political mind than most would credit him with. "If father didn't think he could handle it, he wouldn't have betrothed him to Alina." Corvin says nonchalantly. "Besides, a little diversity isn't so bad." He glances to Alina, still a touch bemused, "But if he tries putting Wraiths in mail, I'm drawing a line somewhere."

Alina frowns, resting both hands on her stomach. "He… I think he will surprise us all," she says. "There is a darkness in him, a willingness to bleed and die— but also to make others do so as the situation requires." She makes a small noise, as if she was going to continue but though better of it. She is silent for a moment, obviously thinking through her next words.

"If," she says finally, "Father's blades were personifed, he would be them: cold Justice, bitter, sweet Vengeance, well-honed and sharpened steel capable of felling whatever foes they are set against." A half smile tugs at her lips.

"There is something in him that I think will make him a formidable weapon for me to bear when the time comes. I've seen him bared for me, brothers, even if he does not realize it. He is a man of honor, but a man broken by it." She idly runs a fingertip over the swell of her abdomen. "He will do. And I think… I dare hope… that I will find contentment and even happiness with him, in time."

"He is a better man than we are," she shrugs, "but only because he knows nothing else."

"It's not his skills I'm concerned about but that he'll react poorly to the truth," Lucas explains to Corvin with a bit of a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. He turns then to listen to Alina. When she finishes his frown is fully formed "If you say so sister," he says without commitment to it. "Though if you're wrong, don't come to me to do what needs to be done."

"Fairly sure just about everyone's a better man than I, dear sister, for relative values of "better," of course." Corvin notes with a bit of a laugh, then tilts an eyebrow, not feeling quite well enough for an outright laugh, he does shake his head, his grin growing a bit darker in tenor, "That's what she has me for." It's not possessive, just matter-of-fact. They all know he's done it before, albeit usually non-lethally. "But I don't think it'll come to that. I know a killer when I see one, and in his own way he's as much one as I'll ever be. He might couch his killing in honor and forthright battle, but in the final tally, his victims are no less dead for the approach." Corvin shrugs, "Admittedly, he doesn't seem like a joyful killer. Which is probably for the best."

Alina sighs. "I think he will take our unmasking well enough, should I couch things right. I have fought at his side, and he is a far more pragmatic man than most of his northern compatriots." She shrugs. "He will do what must be done, I think."

She sighs again, deeply. "And… if not… I will handle him. I had already given thought to it. Poison. While we lay abed together, I will hold him as the watersnake poison burns him up, and at least I will give him a worthwhile death." She looks distant. "Fever. Takes so many after all… and I will even express my deepest regrets—I do think he might even understand."

"As long as considerations have been made," Lucas says as he straightens in his chair in preparation for departure. "Anyhow, the fleshknit has me hungry again, excuse me if I cut our reunion short, but we can visit later when we're all feeling better," he says as he starts to stand.

"That sounds like a plan, and perhaps better than maudlin conversation while we recover." Corvin notes, rising to his feet, and moving over to kiss Alina's forehead gently, "You should sleep. You'll feel a bit better in the mor…well, the afternoon tomorrow, I suppose." Because Morning+Gate sickness…not so great a combination. He nods towards Lucas with a smile that's as genuinely warm as he ever gets. "Eat enough for all three of us, then. I suspect it may be late tomorrow before either of us feel like it."

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