the matriarch

[march-montalvc]

nitasamsaradavid​:

-

As March addressed the young children trailing along behind them, Nita made herself suitable comfortable for what she was sure was about to be a very uncomfortable conversation. True to form, March wrapped her criticism in something more graceful, but it didn’t obscure her point, all the sharper for its complimentary veil. 

“I guess it would be impressive,” she admitted with a shrug, taking the compliment at face value for a moment. “Shame I’ve never had much control over it.” It wasn’t an outright denial of the petty act of rebellion, but it certainly inferred as much. That the target and the timing were mere coincidences, happy or tragic accidents of a Gift gone wild. 

“I mean just ask your Mentors, they won’t get off my ass about it,” she griped, shifting the conversation to something mild and offering a solution all in one. “Suppose I’ll need to do some more training then.” She hoped the admittance would be enough to cut a long lecture short, or at least steer it in a direction she was willing to tackle. With March, however, she could never be confident in her own ability to control the verbal battlefield.

-

It was always at the back of her mind, that niggling thought that she attempted to quiet, out of respect for the younger woman’s privacy and knowing, from personal experience, that the truths you kept closest to you could be some of your darkest demons. It was almost funny - how she saw some of her past self in Sam - fierce, proud, unapologetic - though the old March had existed under the heavy weight of avarice and ambition that had eventually brought her to her knees. 

“You’re in luck - while I’ve never held the title of Mentor, I’m no stranger to helping the members of my House learn control over their gifts.” March often thought of their gifts - Elementals’ gifts - as extensions of their hearts, their emotions, quite unlike the clinical mentality of Endine or the arcane rituals of Oleander. A Valerian with a quiet but strong heart learned control almost instantly, whereas those whose hurts existed underneath placid surfaces, like dangerous, turbulent currents; those whose anger burned as hotly as a fire that refused to be put out - they had the most power, though it did come with a cost. 

“I do not wish to berate you, Sam, for I’m certain you’re tired of hearing such things from your supposedly wiser elders.” March spoke dryly, her lips curling up in the corners, the glint of amusement clear in her eyes. “And while punishment does accomplish things to an extent, it often times does not hit the heart of the mater.” 

“Though I wouldn’t exactly say spending more time training with me is exactly a punishment.” This time, March’s full lips blossomed into an outright smirk. “Wouldn’t you agree?” 

[march-montalvc]

1 // 2 // 3 // honesty hour 

[march-montalvc]

tessaxrm​:

“Can I ask you something, mom?” Tessa spoke as she diced some garlic, her mom at the counter nearby. She was glad for these moments, when it was just the two of them away from the responsibilities that came with being head of house and heir. She’d always admired that about her mom –– her ability to still put family first despite the weight of responsibility weighing her down. “I mean –– you probably already know what it is but…” God. Tessa felt like she was in high school again, skirting around a name that was like an elephant in the room. Or one sitting on her chest. For all the tightness she felt whenever she even started to think of his name, one may as well have been. “I just…you didn’t know he was coming to town, did you?” 

It was a dumb question, she thought as she drew a finger across the flat side of the knife, pushing small cubes of garlic into the little glass bowl she’d been using for the onions she’d cut earlier. “I mean…if you had,” Tessa began, grabbing a pepper now and cutting off the stem, “you’d have said, right?” 

@march-montalvc​

March’s gaze softened, hearing the rare hesitance in Tessa’s voice as she brought up Evan, a topic that still felt too fragile to handle, like a glass piece that could shatter and cut so easily, one that rested precariously in their cupped hands. 

“You know you can ask me anything, Tessa.” She murmured, though a pregnant pause followed right after the statement - as March tried to search for, to summon the right words, her throat uncharacteristically dry. “I did not know he was coming to town.” But I did meet him, unintentionally. She could not bring herself to say, not yet. 

“How did you-” March bit her lip, then she soldiered on with her question. "How did you two meet, this time?” 

[march-montalvc]

maximilian-tirmizi​:

Oef. But to be true: a woman to his heart. Very few people spoke with such elegance and regal bravo as she did, and Max was someone who despite always wanting to fight authority, had respect for those with it as well. Despite it making him even more prone to want to destroy her. He did not shy away from her studying glance, made no attempt at returning the gesture, simply bowed his head a little as she looked him over, as if humble. 

Max couldn’t help but be impressed. Royalty was the first word that came to mind, he really couldn’t wait to meet more of her brethren. 

“Pardon my intrusion. Maximilian Tirmizi, a please to make your acquaintance,” he said, shaking her hand gently, as if he wasn’t even worth touching her. “One cannot come into Asphodel with reasonable knowledge and not know who you are,” he stated. “Alas, I may perhaps have misused that knowledge to get myself out of a tight situation,” he said, gesturing back to the students. “They were far too interested in my accent, my apologies.” He offered her yet another smile that bordered somewhere between guilt and charm. 

-

“Hmm...You give yourself too little credit. A new, comely face like yours - even without the accent - I’m certain you would attract a fair amount of attention.” She’d always did enjoy the company of those with a glib tongue and a refined manner, and though their words were carefully chosen and ultimately flattering, she rarely took them at face value. 

“Still, I’m certain my students did nothing to inconvenience you - though you must correct me, if I am in error.” She glanced at the group in question, picking Josephine Carstairs out easily, her mother a good friend of March’s and Jo herself earning all three Houses’ attention after the entire debacle at the Solstice. The girl waved meekly in response to her pointed stare. 

“Regardless, I’m glad my presence could be of some use to you.” March smiled, a small, sharp one, and she felt Trevor shift uneasily at her side, his gaze darting back and forth between them. “Will that be all or?”

[march-montalvc]

nitasamsaradavid​:

Nita had to hand it to her, March knew how to handle a crowd. It was equal parts impressive and uncomfortable, a reminder that much like the Head of Endine House, the Head of her House knew how to turn a phrase to suit her needs and cover up a messy situation. As she placated the crowd over what was both a minor and major disruption, Nita stood silently by, letting herself be shown off as a symbol of human error. If the role pissed her off any more than the ceremony did, it was hard to tell, her resting scowl not much changed as she waited for the improvised speech to be concluded.

Letting March walk her off the stage, Nita imaged the sliding scale of bad that this next conversation promised to be. She didn’t know March well enough yet to know if this was lecture number four or a chance to quietly take back the rite of passage she’d just presided over. Either way, she prepared for the worst and didn’t bother hoping.

“Honestly I thought as far as an ode to what my Gift means to me, I did alright,” she offered once they were off the stage, halfhearted joke falling somewhere between self-deprecation and sass. It didn’t so much break the tension as it did exacerbate it, but such was the way of human fallibility. 

-

“I suspected as much.” March spoke dryly, eyeing the younger woman for any sign of repentance and finding none - not that she expected any, at this point. March refrained from revealing her own building frustrations, her hands twitching slightly with the instinct to press her fingers against the throbbing headache starting at her temples. 

“You’re free to enjoy the Solstice now, my dears.” She turned instead to the younger Initiates that were still gathered around the pair, her expression transforming into one of good humor. She bent down to their eye level, her gaze fond, letting her hand rest on the cheek of the nearest child and feeling her heart swell as she giggled in response. “Hurry, if you catch her - I’m sure Alessa will buy you all the treats you want.” A chorus of excited goodbyes, a few furtive glances in Sam’s direction, and a mad scramble to get to her younger Heir first - March watched them go first, her smile infinitely warm, before turning her attention to her newly minted Sentinel, her eyebrow arching slightly as she regarded her. 

“I must say, your level of control over your gift is...commendable.” March spoke mildly, tilting her head as she spoke. “After all, to aim so unerringly in the direction of a Head of House and call of the twister just as it was about to brush up against her - that requires a considerable amount of skill. And intent.” She paused meaningfully. 

[march-montalvc]

maximilian-tirmizi​:

Location: Asphodel College @march-montalvc​

Soon as he had gotten to town, Maximilian had started to plan his actions. He had read up on most of what he could find about the houses. Valerian, where he and his power would not fit, was the largest of the three. Oleander, where perhaps he could find a home if he wanted, was the most traditional. And Endine seemed most influential within the society of the town, though that could be just opinion. He was certain they too might welcome him with open arms given the nature of his ability. 

Yet, despite, he was most interested in the larger house, and its head: Marchesa Montalvo. Those who took too many under their wing were often those with the softest of hearts, and if anything, those were the ones Max knew would be easiest to manipulate. 

So he had positioned himself outside of the college, having pretended to be working on the small tablet he owned, striking up a conversation with a few students, who had soon gotten interested in his accent, and before he knew it, he had gathered a whole crowd. That was bound to attract some eyes. He asked one of the students to point out miss Montalvo when she passed by, and turned his attention when said student whispered not more than ten minutes later that the head of Valerian walked by. 

“Miss Montalvo,” he called to her, faking some charming humbleness as he freed himself from the hoard of students. “Could I speak to you for a moment?” he added, his voice was rich with his British accent. It was something he trained at times because he tended to loose it when he spend too much time surrounded by other accents. 

-

Trevor, March’s executive assistant, glanced back and forth and back again between March and this rather unexpected interloper, waiting for her to give him a sign - any sign - on whether he should run interference or not. 

“Miss Montalvo is bu-” Trevor began to speak after a few heartbeats, stepping forward to take charge of the situation, but then March carefully placed a hand on his arm, stopping him mid-sentence. She made a pointed gesture of studying the other man, slowly, head to toe, her gaze assessing, before her expression morphed into an easy, polished smile of pure professionalism. 

“Marchesa Montalvo, at your service, but it appears you already knew that.” March spoke dryly, but all the same she stuck out her hand for a handshake. “May I ask for your name? Take note however, that these introductions alone have shortened the time for your requested “moment”, so to speak. 

[march-montalvc]

blacklxtus​:

If there was ever someone Raphael equally liked and respected, it was definitely the Head of the House; he still remembered being terrified of meeting her for the first time, not long after he arrived to Asphodel first. Back then he wasn’t sure what would come out of it; but now, looking back, he was grateful for that little spark of thought that made him stay here.

“You’re not setting me up for a blind date, are you?” He asked with a little smile, following in her footsteps through the crowd; always one step behind her, he allowed himself to throw a less sympathetic look here and there to someone who didn’t want to move out of the way, even though he didn’t really have to. It was probably just his resting bitch face, as someone called it one time - he just wished he’d remember, who that was.

“You’re so setting me up on a blind date…” He sighed, hearing the question; in fact, he never thought about it more than it was absolutely necessary, so he rather had a type in looks than in personality. He used to actually believe that the perfect partner had to have all those positive traits, but when he finally found someone who had all of them it ended in a terrible failure anyway, so… “…i don’t know? To be fair I didn’t think much about it after the last time, so…” Never mind, that this so-called ‘last time’ was years ago.

-

“Now that really isn’t much of a surprise, is it? I’m sure you’ve been warned by our other members regarding my favorite pastime.” March tilted her head, her full mouth tilting up in the corners as she glanced coyly in Raphael’s direction. And though many of them liked to protest vehemently regarding her fixation on their respective “love lives”, March was also responsible for a dozen or so relationships in House Valerian alone, so she took all their objections and complaints with all the grace and patience of a loving, indulgent mother who simply knows better. 

“Only if you’re willing, Raphael.” She would never force anyone, of course - that defeated the purpose she set out to fulfill, after all. She liked to think her attempts at matchmaking only provided opportunity and her members were free to seek their romantic pursuits elsewhere ( or not at all. )

Then Raphael’s vague reference to his past, his previous marriage cast a shadow over March’s features, her chest aching with a sudden, phantom pain. He never elaborated beyond the fact that he used to be married, and March had never prodded. Some old hurts, she knew them quite intimately, were for quiet, lonely hours, a solitary moment if not for your accompanying pain and grief. 

“Would you tell me about her?” Perhaps, to discuss such private matters in the heart of a bustling crowd seemed somewhat unorthodox, but sometimes the noise, the sounds, the milling about of a hundred strangers maintained anonymity better than hiding away could. 

“Only if you wish to, of course.” 

[march-montalvc]

nitasamsaradavid​:

✦

Having failed to come up with or at least enact some kind of escape plan with the one other Initiate who looked as out of place as her, Nita was stuck standing as far back on the stage as she could manage. She hoped most of the not insignificant crowd that had gathered would simply assume she was security, but any hope of blending into the background crashed and burned as it turned out that at least one part of March’s ridiculous description of the ceremony was real: an individual display of her Gift. Fucking perfect.

The sudden hush that fell over the crowd only confirmed what she already knew: no one wanted or expected for her to be here. So she greeted them as they deserved, a scowl in place as she made her way to the front of the stage. March, to her credit, stood firm, all the proud and welcoming grace she’d offered every other Initiate as if Nita was starting off with the same clean slate as the twelve year old beside her. It almost made her feel bad for what she knew she was going to do. Almost.

But it wasn’t March she could see from the front of the stage, it was everyone else, expressions a mix of quiet concern, open disgust, and constant scrutiny. It was like a bad rerun of the Witches’ Brew debacle, but this time, she decided she’d give them something worth staring at. So with an uncharacteristically delicate twist of her fingers, she pulled up a tiny cyclone from the floor of the stage. Slowly and cautiously, she let it grow, forming an impressive but harmless twister at about shoulder height. And for a moment, she was the ideal Initiate. Her display a perfect encapsulation of her signature skill, but her Gift focused and controlled in a way that might actually make March proud.

But March had asked for an ode of what her Gift meant to her, and this wasn’t it. So in the next moment, the twister faltered, taking a more natural and violent turn, carried away by its own swiftly spinning momentum. The seemingly out-of-control tornado careened across the stage before colliding directly with the woman standing with patient poise in front of her own Initiates: Head of House, Athena Novak. As soon as the whipping winds washed over her, they dispersed entirely, a party trick gone wrong and apologetically extinguished. Surely. Nita for her part turned to the woman and mouthed a single, deadpan syllable: Oops.

@godathcna​

She heard the gasps, one aborted scream, and on instinct March was about to throw up a wall of earth to protect her fellow Head of House, when the twister suddenly died, the barest brush of wind blowing at the strands of loose hair that framed Athena’s face. 

She supposed she could have felt anger, pure and incandescent, for the sheer act of daring and disrespect, bordering on the threat of actual harm to one of her peers, an actual Head of House. But all March felt was an odd kind of exhaustion, a weariness tempered by hard-won patience. She stepped forward, placing herself next to Sam and meeting Athena’s eyes over the crowd - communication flashed between them, a shared understanding. March inclined her head gracefully, in gratitude, in her direction. 

“This-” She turned to address the crowd, sweeping her gaze over them before turning to her younger Initiates, softening her expression with a tender smile. “-is to remind you all, that our magic, our gifts, will always be something greater than all of us. Our ability to harness these energies does not make us gods, for we are still very human, prone to human frailty, human fallibility. We train because we must learn control, to protect ourselves and those around us. It is both an honor-” She glanced at Sam, for a heartbeat. “-and a responsibility.”  

She looked once more at Athena, at Charlie, before her Head Significant stepped forward, seamlessly calling an end to the Ceremony. Pressing a small hand to Sam’s back, light but insistent, March guided her and all the other initiates off stage. 

“A word, if you please, Samsara.” 

[march-montalvc]

✉

[ Marchesa → Montgomery ] There is no one else deserving of the position of Head Significant [ Marchesa → Montgomery ] Athena has chosen well and your heirs will certainly benefit from your calm guidance [ Marchesa → Montgomery ] Truly, an asset to House Endine [ Marchesa → Montgomery ] It would possibly threaten me, and if I didn’t like you so much... [ Marchesa → Montgomery ] Whatever happens, my offer still stands ;) 

...

 [ Marchesa → Montgomery ] Congratulations again, Montgomery

[march-montalvc]

♥

March only attempted to date once after her husband’s passing. He’d been kind, attentive, and intelligent. She had a good time, if she was being honest, until it reached the end of the date and he proposed getting some coffee and dessert afterwards. It was such a silly thing to get upset over, really. The fact that she preferred tea over coffee and that she did not particularly care for sweets. Still, she bid him goodbye with a soft smile, a murmured thank you, and a soft kiss on the cheek. They are still good friends to this day. 

[march-montalvc]

honesty hour: if you had to choose, which head of house (athena/charlie) do you feel more threatened by?

“Charlie.” March said simply. “I respect Athena and I think she’s done an excellent job as Head of House, but I consider Charlie as...” She hesitated. “...as a friend. Should something happen between our Houses, I suspect that I would feel that loss more keenly.” 

[march-montalvc]

♥

One time, her week become so busy, dealing with an internal conflict in the House, mediating an escalating disagreement between two board members regarding expenses for the next year, and dealing with some backlash from the local government over a decision that she made that she would still fully stand by, that it was 3 days too late when she realized she had missed celebrating what would have been her late son Connor’s 17th birthday. 

[march-montalvc]

text // confession // sent starter // honesty hour

[march-montalvc]

nitasamsaradavid​:

✦

Nita offered an unimpressed look at the children around her, finding their ass-kissing not at all cute, regardless of age. It wasn’t, of course, that Nita hated kids. She just didn’t not hate kids; you weren’t exempt from being annoying just because you were short. So she did her best to ignore their presence, teeming with adoration and excitement, and cooing over a show of power that hit the oldest Initiate with none of the same emotions.

Like the children around her, Nita watched the growing flower with rapt attention, but her eyes reflected none of their joy and awe. Instead, her expression fell completely, something bitter and not wholly present, not looking at the flower so much as she looked through it, seeing the same trick done a hundred times by a different hand. “Nice and simple, got it.” Her tone was detached and disinterested, eyes shifting back to March’s with some delay. “I’m sure I’ll figure out something.” And she was sure March would look at her with the same way when she did, a patronizing sigh barely held in, some disappointment thinly veiled under concern. Because no one wanted an ode to what her gift meant to her, not really. But if her Head of House asked, who was Nita to turn her down.

♛ ♛ ♛ 

TIME SKIP:

March had always been comfortable on a stage, speaking to a crowd - her father would expect nothing less from his child, after all - but she had grown to become disenchanted with the persona she would always be required project - powerful, assured, compelling, when her heart beat with concern, affection, and yes, a trace of fear as she looked out to all their expectant faces, knowing that each and everyone of them was her responsibility. 

“And know, the Valerian initiates.” Still, the smile came easily, as she called their names one by one. They all stepped forward, sweetly shy or adorably excited, one boy thrusting his arms out in a casual imitation of a superhero stance ( one of his favorites, she knew ) and the crowd was completely eating it up. Equal measures of joy and pride lit up her eyes and echoed in her laughter as she watched each one of them present their gift, from the graceful arcs of water that danced through the air, to a column of earth that burst forth from the ground, raising the child onto her makeshift pedestal a good few feet into the air, to both gasps and applause. 

There was no trace of hesitation in her voice as March called out Sam’s name, despite the sudden piercing silence of the crowd - nothing that could perturb her, the belief she placed in the younger woman perhaps wholly misplaced but offered all the same. 

[march-montalvc]

luckysonofa​:

“i wouldn’t have come if it hadn’t been – difficult.”

‘difficult time’ - marchs way of putting things was always delicate.  perhaps it was the leader in her, the clever political mind, the prime in all her glory.  perhaps it was just the caring soul, trying to smooth over the rough edges, to make things easier for others while taking the full brunt herself.

“it’s no secret.  word is out.  and i’ve heard plenty of rumours throwing blame around.”

blame that seemed to settle quite firmly at the feet of the valerian house.  and while evan isn’t inclined to entangle himself in politics - he’s more than familiar with the people who seem to be standing in the line of fire.  and not for one second could he imagine that such deeds could ever be done or even willed by them.

“i don’t want to make things worse than they are…”

a strong probability if he had another sudden turn of ‘bad luck’ - and he’s being cautious, careful.  the coin keeps getting tossed regularly just to see where that gauge might lay.  which way his luck might be swinging at any given moment.

“…i just… i wanted to make sure you were okay.”

– both of you.

though the latter remains unspoken, march really wouldn’t have to be a telepath to hear it.

“and things have been a lot less…”

one hand does wave vaguely in the air.  how to describe the bizzaro shite that happened when his luck went sideways.

“…weird.  less… unlucky.  so you shouldn’t have to worry about me bringing on some impending disaster.”

– hopefully.

March, for once, was at a lost for words, every single tangled emotion in her heart snagging on one another as she attempted to unravel her feelings about the man in front of her.

Did she see him as a son? No, not yet. Not if the standard she held him to was her daughters, the two singular beings in her world she would sacrifice everything for. But could she have learned to see him as a son, to welcome him into this fledgling idea of a growing family she never hoped she could have again? 

The yes sang right through her, bright and true and painful. 

She knew how much he loved Tessa, and her daughter’s own incandescent happiness whenever she was around him was enough for March to declare to anyone that would listen that he hung the moon. And yet it was so incredibly ironic that Evan was the one person who would give anything to make sure Tessa was never in any danger, and yet his terrible curse of a gift, this unlucky luck of the draw, twisted their fate and decreed otherwise. 

“You-” Won’t make things worse. She clamped her lips as the words were about to escape, useless platitudes she wished could be false but were as always, uncertain. “I’m okay. We’re all okay.” Was it possible for her to know what he meant, what he wanted to express, even before he said it? 

“That’s...” Once again, a painful, cruel hesitation. “...good to hear, Evan.” I would never blame you, she also wanted to add, but the thought of saying those words and later on having her worst fears come true - her daughter caught in the crossfire of Evan’s unavoidable gift - it made her body grow cold. Perhaps she would blame him, if she was too deep into her grief. 

“I-” March closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before reaching out and placing her hand, gently, on top of his. “-I also want you to be safe. Always.” 

[march-montalvc]

blacklxtus​:

Being Marchesa’s personal guard was certainly a lot more interesting than just patrolling the perimeter; Raphael would lie if he said that he wasn’t actually enthusiastic about that upgrade, but the more time passed the more sure he was that he should’ve just very politely refused the chance. Not because he didn’t like to spend his time with the Head of the House; no, damn, she was actually one of the very few people he honestly liked, but… Sometimes he considered her just a bit too much, and given his situation he couldn’t even run away from her screeching. That would look dumb anyway.

“I… appreciate you giving me… options, but I’m not sure if this is the appropriate time for that.” He let out a small, nervous laugh; he had to admit that Marchesa had exceptional tastes, because every single person she showed to him caught his eye, sometimes even for a longer time, but he couldn’t allow himself all those distractions. 

It would be easier to just say that he worked well on his own; it would be an obvious, but still little lie that he might get away with, except the fact that he just couldn’t get himself to say it. It was sort of a tempting prospect, getting his life finally sorted out and eventually meeting someone he’d actually like ( absolutely not because he grew weary of using tinder ) but then again… Was he an eligible match for anyone? But he decided to not share his doubts this time; it wasn’t about him anyway. “With all due respect, Marchesa… I’d love to indulge but I’m here to guarantee your safety, not to let myself get distracted.”

“Oh dear, now how could I possibly refute that response?” March spoke, and though she pretended to look disappointed, her tone was warm and infinitely fond. She barely managed to hold herself back and not touch Raphael’s cheek in a sudden rush of affection. She suspected such a move would rattle him even more, after his rather earnest though entirely respectful rejection of her (decidedly forward) matchmaking attempts. 

Honestly, Raphael’s decision was both completely rational and utterly commendable, yet still March couldn’t help but sigh gustily, throwing one last, perhaps overly dramatic look at her candidates before turning her attention once more to her Sentinel, her smile soft and still edged with amusement. “Alright then. No to matchmaking...for now. But when all this is said and done, Raphael...” She let the promise hang in the air as she moved through the crowds, knowing they would but not really requiring that they part like a sea before her. 

“So tell me...” She kept her tone light, casual. “...are there certain traits in particular that you look for in a significant other?” 

[march-montalvc]

limelightfm​:

Blood does not a family make. 

The family the Montalvos had made despite the lack of it — but also the many in Asphodel who’d come from blood families that had broken and splintered with members that used each other for gain — attested to that fact perfectly. And yes, they were completely stunning; deserved all the eyes that they had upon them, admiring, the people wishing it were them. Alessa had always felt blessed in many a way to have both Tessa and March in her life, and to call them mother and sister, and even to be an Heir; even if she wasn’t sure whether she wanted the responsibility of being Head of House for herself, she did trust her mother’s judgement more than anyone else’s.

The young woman’s gaze followed Marchesa’s indication, “Tessa would look great in something like that,” she agreed, “that’s beautiful. Did you see the guy in the mermaid shirt? It’s like… audacious but also I respect it, you know? I want to have that guy’s self-confident energy.” 

♛ ♛ ♛ 

March’s eyes flickered to the man in question - she didn’t recognize him, but perhaps he was one of the many out-of-towners who were attracted to their rather grand celebration of the Summer Solstice. She tilted her head in contemplation, taking in his fresh, handsome features and his rather sparkly attire, before nodding decisively. “I agree. Not the most conventional of outfits, but it speaks to a confident character. And his looks don’t hurt either.” March spoke teasingly, appreciatively, her lips tilting up at the corners. “Not your type, Alessa? We could perhaps stumble into him, accidentally.” 

It was an odd feeling, the light-heartedness this moment inspired, when in fact she should be tense, on her guard, especially with her daughter so out in the open, exposed. But if there was anything she’d learned in her long, arduous years as a member of the High Council and as the Head of her House, it was useless to worry needlessly, and memories like this should be experienced fully, cherished. “What say you if next year, we go for something equally as daring? I’ve reached that age after all, where I find great enjoyment in shocking and surprising people.”