Crystal Datacenter - Balmung
Some content may be NSFW - All content will be tagged accordingly. 18+ Blog
Lady of House Gray
"With flesh and blood and bones."
Hi, hello, I'm Vannah! I've been RPing for well over a decade and playing MMOs for just as long. Final Fantasy roleplay, however, is still a nuance I am trying to grasp. Most of my writing has been with close friends as I have yet to find the best way to branch out and find other acquaintances but here I am, being a tree! I'm not very good at these things, so I apologize if this is clumsy looking or lacking in info.
Feel free to message me on tumblr with any interest or questions!
Character Introduction - Crystal/Balmung
Lady Cordelia Blythe
Ishgardian Noble
Presiding Matriarch of House Gray and House Corvin, Lady of House Blythe
Married to Lord Ricard Blythe
Half sister to Ladies Vahalia and dearly departed Valeria Cress
Commerce in Textiles, gemstones and jewelry
Themes & Vibes
Black widow, Gothic Victorian meets old Hollywood
Dark/Mature themes - 20+ please
Upscale and high class but gritty undertones Secret/underground society
Recurring Archetypes
Death's head moth/moths of any kind
Piano/specifically melancholic tones
Macabre decor and design
The colors black and dark mauve/purples
A silver monocle and ring on her left finger
Varying types of victorian/gothic style chokers
Story hooks / What we're looking for
Ishgardian nobility acquaintances
Business partners/clients
Personal connections
Men/women to work for her underground/covertly
"I was beginning to think you'd fled the country."
Catherine Blythe could be subtle when she wanted to be. She knew the ins and outs of polite conversation and how to get to the information she wanted without the other party feeling like it was being pried from them.
Usually.
And that was reserved for polite company.
Ricard was not polite company. He was her son. Her son who hadn't been in contact in a handful of weeks, missed several meetings, and hadn't been into the office.
And who currently hadn't bothered to even acknowledge when she'd entered into the room.
It was just rude, that's what that was.
Catherine narrowed her eyes at the back of her son's head as she closed the door behind her, all but stalking across the room.
"You know, Ricard — when that manservant of yours waltzed in and said you were here and wanted a meeting I thought at the very least you'd have the decency to have an explanation ready as to why you all but vanished for the last several weeks and instead all I get is… "
The last of her sentence faded as she rounded the chair and made eye contact with her son, who was finally starting to push up out of the chair.
Thinner than the last time she saw him and tired, Ricard offered a tilt of his head and a small bow, his hand on his chest. "And all you get is your son, alive and…mostly well. I do have an explanation for you mother. If you'd sit, I'd be happy to tell you where I've been…and he has a name, "that man servant" you know. Victor has done nothing to you except what I asked him to do, which was deliver a message."
She reached out and gripped his chin, turning his head from side to side for a moment. "It'd best be a damn good explanation because you look like hell."
Ricard sputtered, trying to bat away her hand. "You wound me, mother — this is the best I've looked in days."
"Ricard…" Her eyes narrowed as she released his chin before moving to sit the chair across from him.
He knew that warning tone…and it did nothing to deter him, as he shrugged and offered a grin. "I'm being entirely serious. A week ago walking around was difficult. Two weeks ago I'm told I was on death's door."
Catherine's back straightened, almost painfully, as her attention locked on her son. "Excuse me?"
"Hm, a bit of context is in order I suppose."
"You suppose, Ricard?!"
"Sit back, mother. You're making my back hurt." He shifted in his own chair, waving off Victor, who had moved to assist as soon as he'd made any movement at all.
"This goes back a ways so I'll try to be brief and provide what information you need. You recall that Cordelia was married previously, yes?"
Fighting back her irritation with her son's…rather relaxed approach to storytelling, Catherine nodded slowly. "I do, what of it?"
"Important detail for understanding things later on. Her previous husband's family was…not pleased with the contents of his will, in that all of the business holdings were left to Cordelia." Ricard shrugged a shoulder. "The will was the will, and the man is dead, no one can ask him. Regardless, one sibling in particular, one Damien Gray has a rather significant stick up his ass about this issue, believing that he should have been the heir to the Gray name and holdings."
Catherine quirked an eyebrow. "Sounds like a family dispute that should have been dealt with some time ago."
"It was, via the will. Yet this Damien Gray continues to maintain that there's some dispute. There's not. In addition, the holdings at the time of the former Lord Gray's untimely demise were not nearly what Cordelia has built them into. So, he wants something he has no right to have is the long and short of it."
"And what does that have to do with you?"
"Getting there, mother." Ricard took a moment, exhaling slowly before allowing his arms to settle on the armrests of the chair — his left hand in full view, the ring on his ring finger clearly visible…which Catherine spotted immediately.
"You…" Her narrowed gaze shifted up to meet her son's. "….When?"
"Cordelia and I were already discussing what we were going to do about business holdings once we wed— for the most part things were going to be separate. She would maintain her own business dealings, I would maintain mine. And, once our houses were joined I would still have a part to play, particularly if anything were to happen to her, and she would have a part to play if anything were to happen to me. With little lord Gray potentially plotting, we thought it best to see that our union was finalized in private, which we did. Several weeks ago — to answer your question. And before you ask, yes…we'll still do the public ceremony, once we handle this other issue."
Ricard sighed as he leaned his head back against his chair. "And…you'll note I said this was done in private. The only thing that was public knowledge is that we were betrothed, with a public ceremony pending. If one was trying to prevent the joining of two houses, and trying to make sure that they were the sole heir left to a name, what do you think they might try to do to make that happen?"
His mother scoffed, leaning back in her chair. "Here? If there was no legal recourse, I'd imagine attempt to remove one of you…and there's any number of ways to attempt to do that quietly and quickly."
A tired hum was Ricard's response as he motioned to Victor. "Water, please…"
A slight tilt of the head was his response as Victor moved to fulfill his request, and as he turned back towards his mother he was met with a quirked eyebrow and a curious gaze.
"What?"
"Not something…harder?"
"I still don't have the…palate for it yet." He started to say something else when the requested glass of water was presented to him. "Ah — thank you, Victor."
"Sir…" A small bow, and the younger man once again took up his position towards the back of the room.
Ricard took a long sip before letting the glass rest again the top of his thigh. "Now…where was I."
Catherine shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned, resting her chin on her now balled fist. "You rather unceremoniously informed me of the fact that you and Cordelia married and then were discussing that there was this…issue in the form of a former brother-in-law of hers that may have been plotting to remove one of you prior to any official union."
"Ah…yes. Well…it had gotten to the point where we — Cordelia and I — felt comfortable enough to invite little lord Gray to dinner in hopes or snuffing out this little issue once and for all. And apparently little lord Gray had at least one hook still left in the Gray house, because he managed to talk someone into doing a bit of dirty work for him." He turned the glass, jaw clenching tightly. "…We were poisoned during the dinner. Both Cordelia and I."
Here he paused and took another sip, swallowing roughly.
"…Before you ask, the details are fuzzy. I remember having an inkling that something was wrong. I remember leaving the dinning hall, stumbling down the hallway…bits and pieces of a conversation with Cordelia, and then nothing." One shoulder lifted half-hardheartedly. "Outside of some very strange fever dreams anyway."
The empty glass was set aside and his gaze cut towards his mother who was watching him, expression unreadable.
That was never good.
Better to keep going than wait and just let her sit on that information. He allowed his gaze to shift away, focusing on the ring resting on his left hand.
"…I woke up several days later, feeling as though a stable full of chocobos had run me over. And, as you can see, it's taken quite a bit to get back up to speed. Cordelia, who had taken steps to protect herself, fared no better. She…"
He trailed off, his grip on the armchair painfully tight as he gathered his thoughts. "…Her recovery was more complicated than mine."
Focused as he was, he didn't hear the chair move and it was a confused expression that met his mother's concerned one when her gentle grip found his chin, turning his face to meet her gaze.
"…What are you not telling me, Ricard?"
"I'm not…"
"If she was protecting herself then what would have made her recovery more complicated?"
"I…" He sighed. "…There was reason to suspect she was with child. And between the poison itself, and the antidote…as early as we suspect it was…"
Catherine released his chin and leaned back with a hum. "There was no chance…"
Ricard nodded, reaching up to run a hand over his face with a tired sigh.
"Well, you're alive, she's alive, which means you've the opportunity to try again. And as you usually are more than happy to keep me out of your business, I imagine you didn't come over just to share this lovely little tale with me."
"I…did not, no."
"So…what do you intend to do with this bastard who almost killed you and my daughter-in-law?"
He chuckled, rubbing his thumb against his ring. "What I want to do is flay him alive, painfully slowly."
"Hm, I don't know that the Temple Knights will look kindly on that."
"No, I don't believe they will. So, until I can find a way to do that out of their sight I have to find a way to torture him in a less…obvious way."
Catherine quirked an eyebrow before motioning to Victor. "Be a dear, pour me a bourbon, it seems like we might be here a while." Satisfied that her request was heard she turned her attention back to her son. "You have an idea."
"I do…how do you feel about fucking around with the little lordling's funds?"
For the first time that evening, Catherine Blythe smiled — a cheeky grin that her son often wore when he was about to find a way to get himself into trouble.
"Oh darling…that sounds like a wonderfully good time."
Ricard considered himself to be a patient man. He wasn't one to lose control, to fly off the handle without being prompted (usually without significant prompting) to do so, and even then he was more likely to walk away and plan some other means of dealing with the situation than he was to lash out in the moment.
However, that was when he was feeling well and his fuse was not extraordinarily short.
Today was not a day when he was feeling well.
"Tends to happen when one was on the brink of death less than a week ago, Delwyn. Nice of you to join us."
He motioned one of the handmaidens over to refill his water as Delwyn was guided into the room — a side office that he was utilizing for the time being, he didn't have the energy to make it to the Milner estate on his own — and the door was shut behind him.
To his credit, Delwyn did look ashamed and surprised and Ricard's response, giving the man a concerned once over before taking a seat across from him.
"I…you were fine the last time I saw you. What the fuck happened?"
Ricard's response was a tired exhale as he reached for his glass — he was getting tired of nothing but water, and at the same time it seemed to be all his system wanted to tolerate at the moment. He took a small sip before setting the glass down, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.
"You're aware of the dinner that was scheduled with that fucker, Gray, yes?"
"Aye — him and his sister, if I'm remembering correctly. Thought you had it all set up to address that ongoing "inheritance" issue he won't let go of."
Eyes closed as Ricard rubbed his forehead. "That was the intention. And apparently, loathe as I am to admit it, the bastard decided to slither a step ahead and, I believe, infiltrate the kitchen staff."
Delwyn's eyes narrowed. "Don't think your lady wife would've let him anywhere near…"
"No, but his sister, who has been on our payroll and was supposed to be playing good little double agent might have."
Another exhale — talking shouldn't take this much energy. He leaned his head back to rest against the chair. "We were poisoned. Cordelia and I. We were served one dish before the effects started — soup, and so it had to have been in that, because everyone had different drinks and that no one has access to excluding myself. From what I was told, I was unconscious for…days. Was actively dying."
"…And what stopped it?"
His jaw clenched as he turned the glass against the desk. "…Cordelia called for and received assistance from her half-sister."
Delwyn blinked.
"Don't fucking looking at me like that."
"Stabby…I mean…Vahalia Cress…saved your ass?"
"At her sister's - my wife's - behest, yes. Don't think I haven't thought about the fact that I owe the woman yet another debt I can't repay."
"Two."
"What?" Ricard's gaze snapped over towards Delwyn.
"Saved your wife too, didn't she? So that'd be two, wouldn't it? Brings your total up to three by my count, boss."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes, fine! Three. I'm indebted to that woman for the rest of my lifetime, it would seem. Anything else you'd like to point out, Baines?!"
"You at least gonna thank her this time."
"I've been awake for a week, Delwyn...and yes - I already sent a letter."
"Just askin'. Touchy."
"Not why I asked you here." The irritation was clear in his voice, as was the exhaustion. "I need you to get to work on a handful of things until I've the energy to enter the fray."
Delwyn shrugged, leaning back in his own chair, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. "It's what you pay me for — let's have it."
"That, and not your witty commentary." Ricard ran a hand over his face before reaching for his glass and taking another sip of water. "One — I want you to interview the kitchen staff and help determine who our…issue is, or was. If you find them, detain them and bring the name to Cordelia and myself, we'll then discuss what to do with them."
"Discuss, huh?"
"I've some vague ideas for how they're going to spend they're remaining days…after we've talked. Two — I need the information you were able to gather on Damien Gray and I want you to find who is responsible for his birds. Locations and names."
Delwyn nodded. "Aye…can do that."
"Three — Cecily Fontaine. You see her, assuming she's still alive, you bring her to us. We need to have a rather frank discussion. As master Striker or Delwyn Baines, I don't give a fuck which one at this point."
"Pretenses are gone, huh?"
Ricard sat up slowly, jaw set. "Delwyn, if I could flay Damien Gray alive, painfully slow, in a way that would make sure he was conscious as every one of his organs was removed and aware of every bit of it happening I would. In the mean time I will settle for dismantling everything he has. Do you have any questions?"
Delwyn shifted in his seat before shaking his head. "None boss. I'll get it done."
"Good. Start with the kitchen staff, if you please. I'd like a report by tomorrow evening."
"Aye…I'll take care of it."
Ricard was a patient man — but for Damien Gray his patience had run out long long ago.
The air was still and the forest quiet, very little to interrupt Vahalia’s thoughts as she tried to focus along the horizon where Creature had swiftly bolted towards previously. It wasn’t Circe’s presence along the darkened tree line that caused Vahalia’s attention to drift, but that of the visit she had to Cordelia’s House.
It had been implied that Cordelia was blaming Damien, her brother-in-law, for concocting a poison harsh enough to nearly kill both Cordelia and Ricard. Both surely would have passed without quick and careful care but….poison?
It was always said to be a woman’s weapon of choice. However, Damien seemed bold enough to attempt something so sly. What Vahalia knew of him anyway. He had been rather elusive since before Valeria’s death and even then, Damien could very well have paid off someone else to do it for him.
Could he possibly have been set up?
Knitting her brow due to the lack of focus, she eased her draw and lowered the bow in her hand as she stood upon the snowy plains of the Laeves overlooking the ridgeline of Circe’s domain.
What could have possibly caused him to want to act now? His brother had passed many, many moons ago and as it stood, there could have been a variety of other methods – sooner methods – to dispose of someone. Moreover, was he hoping to finish her and her Lordling off in the same breath of murder that Cordelia herself had been accused of exacting upon her late husband prior to Ricard?
A low sigh escaped the Lady Cress, vapors drifting into the frosty air as her eyes then scanned the treeline once more for Circe. A sharp whistle loosed and a directional bob of her head that caused Circe to slip away into the shadows of the tree and brush, all but her shadow seen skimming the forest towards Creature's direction.
There was a hunt taking place, but even still, her mind was malms away. Castien had been abroad, keeping herself busy with charters in Valnain, and Kaevia had still been absent upon her own personal quest which had no fruitful evidence as letters had yet to arrive.
The Keep often felt quiet, save for the little pitter-patter of the twins' feet and the peppered cries of Aradia throughout the night, which was expected when you shared spaces with young children. Starlight was quiet, just as she liked it but there was still the impending feast in the coming days that the Island had been preparing for. As a provider, Vahalia aimed to keep the tradition alive without disappointment.
It was the way the Cress family gave back to the locals in the area and with the new Year upon them and only a year or so of new traditions within Black Water, it was imparative to keep them flourishing.
Something in the air shifted and brought Vahalia back to the present, unfurling from her torment of quiet pondering as the ridge along the horizon began to grow with blips of color and the oncoming flight of the local antelope that Creature had been tracking and now, Circe had delved into the fray to assist in herding them. The loud whooping in the distance grew closer as each animal, nearly a small herd of twenty, frantically bolted to avoid their heels from being gnawed on that became dangerously close to Creature’s maw and the way he snapped at them while giving chase.
Like a banshee’s whail, Vahalia could hear Circe not too far behind as the excitement seemed to coil the entity into her element. Inky tendrils and whisps of void billowed into the air behind her familiars, keenly aware of their placement and presence in the controlled chaos that was stampeding directly towards Vahalia.
Standing firm, she drew the bow again, eye narrowing to track a target as she properly sought out two stags in the bunch, leaving the doe and fawns for later seasons and population, her golden eyes tracked the movement, the sound of her own heart in her ear but the ground under her feet gave rise to subtle shakes as the herd grew closer.
She breathed in, held it briefly and at the release, her fingers loosed the arrow as it whistled through the cold air and impaled itself into her target’s eye. A direct hit which caused the animal to wobble, cry out, and then hit the snow.
The herd nearly upon her, she drew another arrow from her quiver and again notched it to line up another shot, finding the weaving stag in amongst the group, which had not provided a clear enough shot. Hooves rattled the ground under her and the thunderous approach of the antelope as several rushed past, kicking up an upheaval of the light snow.
As they took flight from the danger at their flanks, Creature had managed to wrestle one to the ground and without maiming it which provided Vahalia with the opportunity she needed for her second shot. The moment it stopped moving, Creature was up again, bristling like a dog shaking off the snow, and he was off again on the prowl as his entire massive frame on four legs continued his hunt with Circe close behind.
It was the whaling and cries from the darkened treeline soon after the herd moved on that told Vahalia that they had their prey. Prey she would let them feed on for their assistance as she had what she needed already and planned to prepare for the feast in the village by the morrow.
Slinging her bow along her shoulder she finally moved from her position towards the fallen game and tugged down the ebon mask that covered much of her mouth, hand diving towards the linkpearl at her ear, “Bruce, I’m ready for a cart.” there was a pause and a soft hum escaped her, “Yes, about half a malm from the forest trail into the Laeves.”
A blip of static met her ear and her hand fell away as she crouched in the snow near the game before in the snow, clinging on to dear life from the shot that had not finished it but merely incapacitated it, “I thank you for your bounty.” she spoke to the animal before lowering a hand to its gaze and closing its eyes while her hand procured a proper dagger from her belt and chose to end the suffering it had been induring with one, quick and fatal jab.
All was silent again, but this time, the familiar metallic scent filled her nose, coupled with the mainstay sea-kissed air and vital that dappled the snow.
At least the Cress family traditions over the years and the expertise of her father’s hunting excursions she and Valeria had been forced to accompany him on proved to be productive, even now many years later. Venison would certainly make a delightful meal.
