(1867-10-08) A Meeting with Wilson
A Meeting with Wilson
Summary: Talia meets with the prisoner
Date: 1867-10-08
Related: Follows after A Meeting of Minds
Players:
Talia  Wilson  

Guest Quarters - Highwater Castle - Couviere
See scene
1867-10-08

After the meeting, Talia had been invited (via Ivan) to come speak with one of the prisoners. If she accepts, Ivan will lead her to him.

Talia had not been in the best of moods, but had been curious. She had always liked Ivan, and considered him one of her better students. The Viscountess does not make smalltalk with the Wraith as she moves to speak with the prisoner, the fleshknit had healed her well, but it'd be some days before she would be fully recovered. But, she doesn't attempt to hide her expressions with those who know her so well, and the curiousity, while tempered, is apparent.

Ivan leads Talia not to the dungeons, but to a room in the Wraith's tower. It's guarded heavily by Wraiths, of course, most of whom give Talia polite bows of the head as she approaches.

"Lady Alina wants you to hear what he has to say," Ivan says with no emotion as he raps on the door. "Your thoughts on it determine if he lives or dies."

And the door opens.

Talia gives Ivan a silent look, but simply nods her understanding, then, to the potential outcomes of whatever exchange this will be. She remains relaxed, conscious of her injuries but does her best to not let it show, as the door is opened, and 'he', whomever he is, is revealed. She has a guess, certainly, given what Alina has suggested, but does not speak to it less she be wrong. And, Alina has surprised her before.

Sitting on a simple stool in the center of a room bare of anything but that stool and a cot is a young man, perhaps 20 years old. He has dark hair and eyes, and is neither handsome nor homely… plain enough that he would draw no notice in a crowd. He is lithely built, and observation shows that he is well-muscled though not built… but obviously in excellent shape.

"Viscountess," the young man says, rising slowly, noting the page he was one before placing the book he was reading on the stool. He is not bound.

"My name is Wilson Abara."

Talia's eyes regard the man with consideration. Considering Ivan, and the other wraiths guarding, and the fact they have not seen fit to bind the man, she does not worry further for her safety. She takes the slow steps into the room, nodding once as the introduction is made. "You dance well," she tells him, through slow words. She does not say more, instead, she seems to be waiting. But there is an intense measure, now, about her. Alert. Not for action, now. She studies the man with intense scrutiny.

Ivan hovers at the door, and Wilson gives him a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you, your Excellency." He remains standing, folding his arms behind his back. "I spoke with a girl… the Hawk's heir. When I answered her questions, she laughed at me and left." He frowns, concerned. "I do hope you are not going to do the same."

"Lady Alina l'Sainger is cut from a different cloth than I," Talia says, quietly. She does not appear to be in a humorous mood. Then again, that could be due to the fact of the information she just learned from Alina, and the very reason for her wounds. For now, she appears to have no questions, save one. "You have something you wish to say to me?" Measured interest, rather than cold distance, but there is clear wariness, too, in her mannerism and words. Still, she appears willing to listen.

"I came to Couviere looking for a new home. I thought that the Duke was Capofamiglia, but he is not available for me to plead my case to." Wilson grimaces. "A madness has taken my Famiglia. I left before it was too late with the soldato I could bring. They are all dead. It is now just me."

"You had poor information." Talia matches the man's frown, but for very different reasons. So that is, at least one reason, why Alina laughed at him. "But make no mistake. The Hawk has my utmost loyalty and devotion." These are sincere words, stern. She asseses the man, then, while remaining still. She then suggests, "Attacking his lands, his people, and his country was not the best way to plead your case, even if he was Capofamiglia. Why do this, if that was your intent?"

"We were trying to lay low, survive. But there were too many of us to forage." Wilson sighs. "We tried to keep our presence low, but I brought a quarter of the famiglia with, hundreds of Marked Men. Perhaps I should have come with a smaller force, come directly to him. But I could not leave my people behind, those not taken by the madness."

Talia considers this answer, the measure of the truth of it. There's no reason for him to lie, now. And rather than focus on the impact of the number of men he brought over, she asks what she deems a more important question. "Tell me of this madness, then, that drove you and that large a number of your Syndicate into our lands."

Wilson frowns, and shrugs. "I am no healer," he says. "I do not know what causes it, but I do know what madness looks like. Throwing trained assassins away after contracts we could not meet, over and over again. Targeting the royal family and those connected to it… for 'fun'. Not because of a contract. Leaving bodies as a message. Sending parts of bodies to the Prince." He shudders. "Death and killing do not bother me, but good assassins stick to their contracts. Starting a war with the royals isn't wise." He grimaces. "We weren't even killing the royals themselves, but… people who had dealings with them. Lovers, bastard children." He sighs. "There is more to the madness than that, but we do not need to spend hours detailing it."

Accepting this answer, seeing Wilson's perspective - at least, as he tells it - Talia nods slowly. "Self preservation. You brought those with you that you knew you could trust. Tell me, then, your reason for seeing to your men's destruction? I do not judge you," she assures. Still, there is no laughing. "I merely wish to understand your mind." To see to his way of thinking. His reasoning skills. And if he is someone worthwhile. Loyalty, afterall, is everything.

"We fought until the end. I was spared because I was the leader." Wilson looks grim. "We were well trained. I did not seek a fight, but we would not back down when one was joined. My men died as soldato, loyal to their famiglia to the end. So too, would I have died had they not insisted on healing me." He gestures to his bandages. "Your sidhe steel cut me deeply, but the healers have stitched those wounds."

Again, Talia nods. "Very well. Shall I conclude, then," she says after several moments, "That you desire this home to be with the t'Corbeau, then?" Further loose ends, in her mind, are tied then, from the news that Alina had disclosed. It made more sense, now, the cunning of the Lady, and her machinations, along with the Wraiths such as Ivan. She had thought that Wilson had merely sought to save his own skin and found that odd.

"Do you think you have a place with us?" It's an honest question, rather than one borne of sarcasm or scorn.

"I am a killer, your Excellency. Trained since I could walk. It's our family's way." Wilson shrugs lightly. "If I have a place anywhere in this world, it would make sense that it would be in a famiglia that would know how to use me. I am the youngest son of Alesandro Abara, but I am not a prideful man. All I want is a place and a purpose."

Talia nods. "We shall see," she intones, measured, promising nothing. It seems to signal the end of her questions. Still, she keeps her promise. She does not laugh. And, at the very least, she does not dismiss the idea out of hand. Neither does she seem less wary when she saw who it was, however. She looks to Ivan in brief, telling the Wraith, "I have heard what he has to say. I need hear nothing further." And, whatever her conclusion is, if one she has immediately, such will not be revealed yet in front of Wilson.

Ivan escorts her out, shutting Wilson in. "You can talk to her ladyship about things soon enough," he says dryly, escorting her from the tower.

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