[maikafanawen]

Hey, I have no idea what Dryea is supposed to do with Athadan. Will he come up to her with a note? Will she take it? What will the note say? I'm very perplexed.

But I did come up with a post for her arrival but I see that Arien's already sort of taken care of it.

Oh well, here's what it is, I guess it can go right after Arien's.

"Oh, just send them away," Dryea complained to Rheaite. The maid stood nervously by the door to the parlor room, waiting to accept the next person come to pay condolences to the grieving woman. 'They were engaged for but six hours,' they would exclaim. 'It couldn't have happened to a dearer girl.' Lady Morthaniawen squirmed with glee at their pitiful faces. She so loved putting on dramatics and watching people's reactions. It was possible that Dryea even over did some of her acts like bursting into tears at the slightest mention of some delicate subject and even resorting to throwing her glass of wine across the room and out the open window. Rheaite knew she was playing a wicked game with these people's hearts and it was all she could do from stopping her.

"My Lady," she said intrepidly after a Ms Dillirdyn and her two daughters of just down the Way had left Dryea to one of her particular outrageous fits. "If I'm not too bold, perhaps if you were less dramatic and more accepting and fallaciously thankful of these people's attempts to cheer you, your loss would be well-harbored in the citizen's own hearts." Dryea stood and turned to glare at her maid. In two strides she was towering over the young girl, her hand raised in mid-strike. A moment before the inevitable slap, there came a knock at the door. "Get it," Dryea hissed to the terrified Rheaite. "And do not mistake me for the weakling of a woman my sister is. I expect you to keep your place!" The maid answered the door, trembling violently and deathly pale.

"The Isindils are here to see Miss Dryea," the butler announced to Rheaite. "Are you alright Miss Rhe?" The maid, nodding fiercely at the butlers inquiry, relayed the message to Dryea.

"Ooh yummy!" the lady exclaimed nastily. "I was hoping they'd come." She took a seat on the settee adopting a rigid and uneasy position. "Show them in," she whispered excitedly. Dryea made her face lack and gave an overburdening grief stricken appearance to her eyes. Then silver tears streamed down her cheeks. Thus Mr. And Mrs. Isindil found her. Rhircyn's mother had also been crying.

When they entered, Dryea allowed them to see her uncomfortable state before she turned to see who they were. She summoned an even more pained expression to her face and stood slowly, making her way to Lady Amowiel. Nearly there she swooned and fell with a dainty thump to the floor.

"Quick!" Lord Gaenry said. "The poor girl's fainted!" Rheaite's anger bottled up inside of her as she ran for someone to 'help'. Lady Isindil knelt beside the girl and cradled her head in her lap, crying softly. Dryea's eyes fluttered and open. Then she too began to cry. Rheaite returned with Ruiel bursting in the lead followed by the butler and a serving girl balancing a glass of water and two pills on a silver tray.

The Isindils left soon after Dryea 'recovered'. They decided it was too soon to speak with her about their son. The young woman thanked them for coming and apologized for fainting. "It's quite all right my dear," Lord Gaenry said solemnly. "We understand." The house was gravely silent as the Isindils made their way out the doors and down the path to their carriage.

Then Rheaite started to cry out of anger and Dryea laughed at her. "Oh get out!" she yelled at the furious maid. Helpless, the girl left her mistress's company and ran down to the kitchens. Ruiel, after making sure her daughter was truly all right, absconded to her office.

"My Lady?" the new maid's voice rang like a bell as she prepared to announce the next visitor. The woman smiled, "Yes?"

"There's a Miss Elena here to see you." Dryea's expression went from surprise, to worry, to acceptance.

"Very well, show her in." Elena entered and looking pityingly at her friend. She walked over to the sofa where Dryea sat in her black dress and veil, pouring a cup of tea—she'd already had enough wine for the morning. After looking her friend up and down, she quickly determined that all was well with her and her reason for dropping in was sincere. There might have been a few questions she'd have been hoping to ask but after Dryea's 'act' she would think it better not to.

"How are you doing?" Elena whispered kindly, laying a hand on her friend's arm. Dryea took in a short quick breath and then sighed just as promptly and mournfully.

"All right, I guess," she muttered weakly. The discussion went well and Dryea kept the posing cloud of despair huddled about her snuggly and politely accepted the condolences that passed through. Once during their talk she even began to cry (again) and Elena embraced her comfortingly.

After an hour or so the student left without asking any of her curious questions, leaving Dryea in her peaceful misery. "That will do for today," Lady Morthaniawen announced. "I'll have no more visitors." She stood and took the pins out of her hat, setting it on the table by the settee. She walked over to the window and looked out over her gardens and at the slightly graying sky overhead.

"Lady Dryea," the maid said in her singsong voice. "Thy mother sends word. Ye are required to attend the ball held by his grace the Steward—" she paused to brush at her nose, Dryea laughed. "She wants ye to be ready by seven this evening." The woman nodded.

"Give my mother my accordance." Bowing, the maid left to do as Dryea bid. In lighter spirits at the girl's wise demonstration of loyalty, Lady Morthaniawen ventured up to her room on the East wing.

The dress for tonight was of midnight black silk: appropriate for her current situation. Woven here and there were dark blue flowers that emitted a pleasant fragrance. Even though the colors were dark and mournful, the style was definitely not so. It was of the latest fashion appropriately implied with lace up sleeves segmented into slight ruffles and a closefitting bodice atop a full skirt. A motif of black roses were embroidered throughout and gave it a regal appearance. "Simply splendid," Mari, Dryea's new maid, had described it. Lady Dryea thought so. It was simple enough to fit her grief-stricken condition, but splendid enough to keep her reputation of utmost majestic splendor encouraged. She finished off the ensemble with a velour ribbon tied around her slender neck in a choker fashion, plus a set of onyx earrings, bracelet and rings.

"Mademoiselle," Mari whispered in her ear after curling the last lock of auburn hair and letting it hang down her back. "You are the finest lady I've ever seen." Dryea beamed. Her hair was curled and let down except for a small portion that was pulled behind her ears and knotted in the back. This was covered by a stylish black cap adorned with a single black rose and some ebony net.

"Is the lady ready Miss Mari?" the butler inquired from without Dryea's chamber door.

"She'll be right along." Making sure she carried all the necessities to a corsair woman's outfit, including every mean of self-defense, Dryea allowed Mari to carry her black cloak, gloves, and fan to the door for her. Not long after, Alethea arrived to hear out Ruiel's final instructions.

"It's not that big of a deal girls," she informed, "but keep your eyes and ears open and stay on your best behavior." There was more and finally the two women boarded the carriage and were off to the citadel.

I have some bad news. I will not be able to post until Tuesday because I'm having a sort of last minute operation tomorrow morning and won't be home until late tomorrow night. I am so sorry for any complications I'm causing having to do with wrapping this RPG up, but real life can't be helped.

I'll be back in Tuesday some time to sort it out. Thank you for your patience. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

-Maikafanawen