#house gray

[promethea-silk]

De Profundis

She stood in the doorway, watching Emerys tend over Ricard as he lay unmoving in their bed. His skin was an unhealthy pale, glimmering slightly in the fire light from the fireplace and candles among the room. It had only been about an hour that had passed when Cordelia released a heavy breath and turned to exit the room. Tilly was approaching just as she spun around, nearly slamming into the small woman. Her hands reached out, instinctively to grab onto Tilly’s arms to attempt to steady both of them. 

“My lady, I apologize…but you should be resting…” With her urging, she offered Cordelia a steamy cup of tea as any sort of attempt to help the Lady feel better was all she could manage to do. Cordelia looked down to the mug, sweat beaded across her pinched brows as she shook her head and stepped back. “Take it inside, see that Emerys continues to aid Ricard and do not let him leave for anything. If he requires supplies, have someone else fetch it. Both of you remain at his side until I return.” 

Looking somewhat dejected, Tilly tilted her head slightly while the cup of tea was brought closer to her chest as she recoiled from the denied offer. “But where are you going, Lady Gray?”

“To send for my sister.” The words were firm, a decision she had made the moment she was certain of their poisoning and yet she had put off making contact with Vahalia simply because of Ricard’s plea. She knew the two of them had a blemished past and she rarely would request their paths be crossed unless absolutely necessary and this was entirely vital. The short distance from the main chambers to her study felt like eternity as her steps continued to feel sluggish and heavy but as she passed the threshold and made way to her desk, her shaky hand reached to retrieve the linkpearl that rested just where she had left it. 

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm her throbbing heartbeat, she lifted the device to her ear and settled it so that she was connecting to Vahalia properly. Tired as she was now, there were few words and only what she knew her sister would quickly respond to.

“Vahalia? I need you here… now.” 

It was as if the space she had been in held a pall over it, the rooms seemed darker than she remembered when meandering by in the past. It had been quite some time since Vahalia had set foot within Cordelia’s abode, though their correspondence through business had always remained.

The two sisters – even if by half – had their own dealings to contend with, but that hadn’t stopped them from leaning on one another when circumstances demanded it. The call Cordelia had put forth to Vahalia was dire, that much she knew. The tone in her voice over the linkpearl and the adamant weight she seemed to hold were enough to spur Vahalia’s pace despite there being tiny details shared over the airwaves and not enough to paint Vahalia a true and accurate picture.

At least not until she spoke to Cordelia one-on-one.

Tilly led the sable-haired woman through the corridors, a trail of well-tailored ebon lace and deep purpled silk snaked in the Witch-woman’s wake as the two had embarked on their ascent to Cordelia’s quarters.

It was an open door that they had passed by that gave Vahalia’s frame a prolonged pause. Sharp golden eyes cut through the dimly lit room to find a figure neatly tucked within the bed and a bedside table littered with various bottles and objects. The most notable items had been the large water basin and discarded linen that had piled high within the basket nearby.

Undoubtedly, the person in question was Ricard – a face Vahalia herself had known well enough, though the man tending to him was an unfamiliar face, keenly attentive to the Lordling within his place of rest.

Was it merely a chill and fever, a sickness that Blythe had caught or had something else befallen the Lordling? 

Could it have been –

No.

She thought to herself, but that didn’t stop the crimson corners of her lips to tick faintly. An expression of triumph, pensive or simply Vahalia being her baleful self could have been anyone’s guess, though none had been witness to the silent etchings she held upon her mien.

Moving on, the shadow of a woman slipped away from the door opening and was eventually ushered into the quarters of preference that Tilly had so eagerly and tentatively led them into, “The Lady Cress.” Tilly finally spoke for the first time since Vahalia arrived at the front door.

The image before Vahalia was unmistakably her half sister and yet it could have been easy to feel tricked by her appearance. Never had Cordelia been seen in any state of undone or duress though in this moment she found herself hunched over, her head resting against a fist as she leaned against the desk. A woman so pale in tone of skin somehow remarkably even paler, a tiredness evident on every detail of her face as strands of her dark hair clung to her glistening temple. Many emotions and feelings could easily be read on her features, another abnormal about the always ever so stoic statue of a woman. Pain, anger, and perhaps fear seemed to ease just slightly at the sound of Tilly’s announcement of Vahalia’s arrival causing Cordelia to lift her head and force herself up to standing. 

“You came.” She stated simply, a relief so profound in her tone but perhaps an undertone of surprise which she realized afterward was from her having not explained the reasoning for her call in the first place. “Vahalia, you know I would never beseech you to leave your family if it were not dire.” Dim eyes flicked back and forth over Vahalia’s face as she approached her, the muscles in her neck flexing slightly as she struggled to swallow. “I know many things, but this… I know you have a past riddled with contention and distaste - but I can’t help him.” She wasn’t pleading, her voice was calm and one level but her concern was evident.

Of course, Vahalia came, family was important but she need not express it. It wasn’t in a tone of voice or a myriad of questions that touched upon her concern but merely a lift of a hand as Vahalia’s cool knuckles touched at the exposed area of Cordelia’s forehead to feel for a fever that was evident just in the way Cordelia labored but hide it so well; so tenderly.

Lady Cress’s concern was purely stationed on the malady at hand that she had already surmised was working fast with the state she had seen upon Ricard within the bed and now Cordelia, “Illness?” she questioned cooly, almost dry and bitterly but there was a series of calculations raking through her head.

Tilly seemed well enough, but she knew well and good that the wait-staff had their obligations to the house, despite any conceived sickness that might have been running rapid. It wasn’t just concern for the task at hand nor Ricard but that of Cordelia.

She had already lost one sister –

Cordelia’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the strength in keeping her demeanor as poised as she ever was fading but evident in her effort to maintain. The cool touch against her forehead was soothing as she released a soft breath before shaking her head. “Poison.” Her correction came in simple means, a quiet clearing of her throat following. “Whatever it is, it is working quickly. My physician isn’t moving fast enough, Wren has not retrieved Damien. He’s dying, Vahalia and I cannot stop it.” 

More than anything, Cordelia’s emotions conveyed an anger that surpassed whatever weakness she was feeling and though her eyes gave off a tiredness, there was a fire burning hotter than the fever that took over her body. 

Damien?

A strange factor but if Wren was tracking him down then something had transpired between the three enough for wren to be dispatched. Details on the situation would have to wait until later.

Vahalia swayed her free hand towards Tilly expectantly as the woman instantly handed over the hefty bag she had brought along with them from Vahalia’s travels. Lady Cress slung the strap over her shoulder and casually led Cordelia to the edge of the bed within her quarters.

“I’ll do what I can to help. Here, sit. This will not be a comfortable situation, neither for you or Ricard but it will be the best alternative than being in a grave.” Once Cordelia was settled, Vahalia crouched eye level to her sister and reached for her hands, “I have a few questions for you first, before we begin alright? Once I tend to you, I will ensure Ricard is given the same.”

Glancing over her shoulder towards Tilly, Vahalia addressed her, “She’ll need fresh water, a basin for the fever and bring a waste basket.” The handmaiden bowed her head and, without leisure in her step, shuffled out the door to collect the items Vahalia had requested.

Lady Cress’s hands held tight to Cordelia’s as she regarded her sister once more, “Any illness within the past month to know about or any possibility of you being with child?” she asked tenderly; however, the expression she wore held that of importance and seriousness; sharp golden eyes regarding Cordelia with a gentle sternness.

It seemed that Tilly had taken very little time in retrieving everything Vahalia had asked for, another smaller woman following behind with what Tilly could not hold in her own hands. Cordelia allowed her sister to guide her away to sit upon the edge of the bed, her chest rising and falling heavily, however as the questions came, she began shaking her head slowly. “No illness, no- and no, I mean perhaps? There’s a chance but unlikely - Vahalia, you need to see Ricard now. I can handle this a little longer but Ricard is unprepared, it’s killing him.” The idea of her being with child was so far away, it hadn’t even been something she even considered and truthfully, right now, it would not have mattered to her. 

Her brows pinched briefly at the thought, glancing down with the flick of her gaze only to look back to Vahalia immediately. “He’s not going to make it much longer, I wasted too much time  already by not calling for you as soon as I knew.” 

“I will ensure he gets what is necessary, Cordelia. That I can promise you but he, in turn, would want to know you are well cared for and it is best to act fast while you’re still upright.” Vahalia’s hands retreated to the bag by her side and pulled out a vial after searching through her belongings for a stint.

Holding it up between her golden pools and Cordelia’s grey slated fields, the deep purple vial glinted slightly in the light of the room, “This will help to expel the poison within your body within the next few days, however…” Vahalia paused briefly as she lowered the vial into Cordelia’s palms, “It will not be pleasant. You will feel like you’ve stumbled upon the nine hells with a high probability of hallucinating while everything is expelled. Sweats, possible night terrors and will have an unnerving desire to drink. It is important that you hydrate, but do so in moderation to keep the effects of the antidote from being diluted too fast.”

Standing to her full height with the bag in her hand, Vahalia’s commanding presence turned to look at Tilly and the other woman within the room, “Please assist your Lady in seeing that she is comfortable and have someone to be with her as she rests. It is imperative that one of you contact me immediately if her health does not improve within the next 24 hours.”

Vahalia turned to Tilly and held out a milky white vial, “Milk of Poppy, an opium for the pain should she experience any in the coming days and require something to take the edge off.”

When the trade had been made between the two women, Vahalia’s sharp gaze returned back to her kin, “I’ll speak with your physician and ensure Ricard gets everything he requires to be on the same path for recovery. I may offer some additional resources for him as it seems his illness has progressed much further than your own.”

The muscles of Cordelia’s jaw flexed in frustration that Vahalia seemed to not understand how dire of a situation Ricard found himself in. She would be eternally grateful for her aid as the woman certainly had no reason aside from Cordelia’s affiliation with the man to save him at all. She steadied herself, calming her stress as she nodded in understanding of what was being done and knowing Vahalia was right in everything she was saying. Her gaze fell to the vial placed in her hands, the intimidating anticipation for the discomfort to come already washing over her. 

She was hardly afraid of the side effects Vahalia suggested she would experience but to essentially be out of commission entirely was nothing she was looking forward to. “Thank you…” Cordelia said softly as her fingers gently closed around the vial as she pushed herself to standing. “Vahalia -” She called forth, preparing to follow her sister to the aid of her newly, yet secretly, wedded husband. “- If I was, with child that is,  what are the chances of loss?” 

“Near absolute certainty. Perhaps it is best to not know and simply consider your life right now above the possibility. And if you were with child and a child survives, which is a very slim chance, there is no promise they would be without defects. I'll ultimately leave that decision to your discretion as it is your decision to make. However, placing a choice on a ‘maybe’ is risky and even then, if you do want children, you must first be alive and well to try for one, no?” Vahalia replied as she stood nearest the door. 

If there was one thing Vahalia was certain of, it was that Cordelia, much like herself, had the spine to do what needed to be done. A woman of strength and poise, a foundation in which was firm built upon layer by layer of pain, spite and intention and very little ever stood in their way when it came to mere survival.

A genuine, soft smile crept to Vahalia’s lips as she glanced across to her kin, “I’ll see to Ricard now if you would like?”

The answer given could have caused many others to feel disheartened but to Cordelia, it was simply a confirmation as she nodded once in understanding, her fingers finding the cork of the bottle to pop it off. “I will be forever grateful for you, sister.” She stated flatly but not entirely without any sense of warmth just before lifting the vial to her lips to empty the contents and prepare herself for the discomfort that was inevitable to come. “Tilly, ensure that Emerys allows Lady Cress to do her work by my word.” She wished to join them in the room though knowing how unwell she was likely to feel very soon, Cordelia heeded Vahalia’s warning and found herself comfortable as she could be back in the bed. 

“We’re family, and that’s important. I’ll remain for several hours after to ensure Emerys has a handle on the antidotes.” Vahalia offered, her tone was curt and something anyone else might have considered to be laced with cruelty. What she had offered Cordelia with the potential of losing something so important – another woman might not have readily offered it up but in truth, they were two women who knew well how unfair the world had often wove its plans.

Sharp. 

Cruel. 

A price.

Vahalia’s eyes lowered slowly, contemplating the situation and a myriad of questions she had regarding it and Damien but such would come for another time.

Bowing her head respectfully as Cordelia made her way to settle, the witch-woman almost soundlessly slipped from the room with her bag in hand to retrace her steps back to the room she had seen Ricard in previously with another of the staff.

Surely this had to be the Emerys Cordelia spoke of.

As she passed the threshold with Tilly close behind, Vahalia had introduced herself and handed over several vials from her bag as she stood at the bedside along with Emerys as they spoke at length in hushed tones, Vahalia guiding Emerys through the various tonics and antidotes and how to deliver them along with possible symptoms and expectations through a timeframe.

The only slightly older looking Elezen seemed surprised by this woman coming into the space he was working in. He had known that Lady Gray’s words were of a warning but she hadn’t mentioned anything regarding someone else coming in for the job. To be truthful, the thought to inform her physician of Vahalia’s arrival hadn’t even crossed her mind. She didn’t answer to him, he worked for her and while she was wholly aware that he was diligent and doing his best, it mattered little to her at this moment. They needed the best and her sister infinitely surpassed that necessity.

When the vials were offered to him with the slew of instructions, there was a look upon Master Emery’s face that seemed as though he were about to protest, confusion on the matter distracting him from his task at hand. 

“Lady Cress has been sent for by Lady Gray, she is administering care to the Lord and Lady which we expect you to see through via her instructions.” Tilly chimed in respectfully but sternly before Emerys could deny the aid. 

“Very well, Lady Cress, I am at your behest and am grateful for your guidance.” He nodded to Vahalia and set aside the antidotes provided before retrieving a small pad of parchment to scribble her instructions after requesting she repeat them now that he was actually paying 

“Keep up, darling.” Vahalia instructed as if poor Emerys had been struggling to catch up, which in some sense he had due to his surprise and confusion of her presence. However, Vahalia’s tone remained even and somewhat lighthearted due to the crimson smirk she had offered him in the moment.

The Lady Cress was not shy about inviting herself into the space and even ilming past Emerys as she took the same colored vial she had handed Cordelia to administer here at her sister’s behest.

When she angled Ricard’s chin back a small amount, she took a pause to gaze upon the illness he had been enduring. How the sweat beaded along his temple and the paleness in his greying flesh. How warm to the touch his skin had been at her fingertips as the fever only burned hotter over time.

Pity. She thought.

The second time Vahalia would have to administer an antidote to this man. Once she might have been on better terms to care, now? Perhaps not so much but the irony wasn’t lost on her. As a cruel creature of night and darkened woods, Vahalia would have eagerly let Ricard fall into this oblivion had it been her choice and place to do so.

However….

This was Cordelia’s request and she honored that as drop by drop Vahalia administered the concoction as Ricard was far too debilitated in the moment to deny the assistance. Coming from her, Vahalia was certain he’d try despite his current state. Stubborn through and through.

Slender fingers worked at the curve of his esophagus to ensure that she stoked the natural swallowing reflex as Ricard’s energy levels and feeble lull into the action was barely enough to ensure he hadn’t choked on the offering.

Once the vial was entirely empty, she set it to the bedside and straightened, “Monitor him closely for the next few days. His symptoms may worsen before they improve but his body will use the antidote to aid in fighting this off. Expect plenty of vomiting, keep him hydrated and cold compresses until the fever breaks. I will remain here in the Manor for a few hours should anyone have questions or require assistance and I’ll check in here and there as to not be under foot.”

Stepping away Vahalia looked to Emerys as she handed him the other vials that were milky white, “For the Lord and Lady should they feel pain in the coming days. Only administer once their fever has broken and keep their diets to bland, low fiber and low fat intakes for the first week until they are able to introduce more into their diets.”

“Light breads, bananas and anything with pectin. No liquor, limit spices and be easy with root vegetables.” Pursing her lips she leveled her gaze to Emerys once more, “Any questions Doctor?”

Again, Emerys watched Vahalia move with an apprehension almost as if an enemy had been within their territory. He was far from being used to his position being questioned. Still, he said nothing and simply agreed with the Lady and her instructions as he stepped aside. “As you say, Lady Cress, we are most grateful for your aid.” His eyes glanced to Tilly briefly who nodded once to him sternly in warning. 

“Remain here in observation of Lord Blythe, I will have another waste bucket brought in and more water. I will tend to Lady Gray a few doors down where she has taken to resting once I see Lady Cress is settled and comfortable.” Emerys offered Tilly an understanding nod in return, lower his head a bit more in regards to Vahalia before turning and beginning to dab away at the sweat formed upon Ricard’s forehead. 

“A good evening to you, Lady Cress.” He offered as he went about his duties before the two women took their leave. Tilly would ensure that Vahalia was comfortable in Cordelia’s sitting room with a cup of tea and some small bites should she wish to pick at them and once that was done, she found herself back at her Lady’s side as the antidote was already beginning to take its course. It was going to be a difficult night for the entire household but at the very least they would now see the light of the next time.

[ collab w/ @vahalia-cress

mentions: @ricard-blythe-ffxiv ]

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

The Problem with Guests...

Something was wrong.

Calm, measured, collected — he'd managed to keep the facade up until the dining room was several steps behind him, but that hadn't stopped his mind from racing.

The cold sweat that dripped down his back, the way his stomach roiled, even the way his hands were shaking…that wasn't from the sudden onset of a stomach virus.

Something else was going on and the problem was he didn't know what.

What could have possibly slipped into anything that was presented in the short amount of time they'd all been seated that could have caused this?

Or better yet, who on the staff would have done it? Or have been paid to do it?

Questions better suited for when his thoughts weren't a jumbled mess.

Ricard deviated to the kitchens, doing his best to hide the rising panic from the staff and giving his head a quick shake in an effort to keep the creeping fog at bay — it was getting harder to think.

"Glass of water…and salt — now please."

"…Master Blythe? Is everything…?"

"Fine." He took a sharp inhale, it wasn't the staff's fault his nerves were rattled, "I'm fine — the water and the salt, if you would."

He had to maintain some sense of calm. If he started to panic, the staff would panic.

It had to have been something he ingested…and maybe if he could bring it back up?

Even if it didn't stop it, if it could slow it…

"The items you asked for, sir…are you sure?"

"Positive…go make sure your mistress and the guests are being seen to please." He needed the kitchens cleared, or at least a little privacy.

Fury, his hands were shaking.

How much salt was poured into the water he didn't know, and didn't care — he barely waited for the staff to go about their duties before he chugged it…and it didn't take much time before the concoction did what he'd intended, causing him to empty the contents of his stomach into the nearest trash bin.

The fog didn't subside.

Neither did the shakiness or the cold sweat.

"Fuck…"

Whatever it was was faster acting than he'd thought…the bedroom, he needed to get to the bedroom…maybe try to find Tilly get in touch with a healer, Delwyn...anyone… and more importantly, check on Cordelia.

If he'd ingested it then she likely had too.

Walking in a straight line was getting more and more difficult.

He managed to exit the kitchens, leaning heavily against the wall for a moment before slowly making his way in the direction he believed led to the bedroom…it was difficult to think, difficult to determine direction.

Need to keep…going.

His legs were getting heavier. The edge of his vision darker.

About what he estimated to be half way down the hall in the direction he thought he needed to go he finally sank to his knees before slowly easing to the floor in an effort to keep from completely collapsing, struggling to keep his eyes open. He thought he vaguely heard voices down the hall calling for him…calling for someone to fetch Cordelia, but he couldn't be sure.

And he couldn't stay awake anymore.

The last thought he had as the darkness closed in was a simple one…and the clearest one that he'd had since leaving the dining room.

Fuck the Grays.

Mention of @promethea-silk

Continuation from the story found HERE

[promethea-silk]

“We should have called for Vahalia.” She could hear her own voice in her head, soft and far away, the burning within causing her forehead to shimmer in the firelight with rolling beads of sweat.

It had barely been an hour since the four in attendance for dinner had split up in an unexpected building chaos. Cordelia had stepped out of the chambers to separate herself from the situation in attempts to try to think clearer. Standing against even a closed window had given her just the slightest bit of relief when her fading mind was brought back by Tilly’s gentle touch to her arm to alert her that Emerys had arrived and was seeing to Ricard.

Now she sat bedside, listening to the physicians words, as warbled as they were, her suspicions becoming truer by the moment. “My lady, it is difficult to trace poisons quickly… some more understood and well known are easier to catch or rule out but if this was done with malicious intent, it is likely that precautions were taken.”

“Of course it was done with malicious intent! I did not call you here to investigate why we were poisoned, I called you to find a way to stop it!” Over the years, especially since Cordelia had chosen a slow poisoning of her late husband as his way of punishment and dispatching, she had taken precautions of her own to see that the same could not be used against her with such efficiency. Emerys had helped instruct her the exact dosage of various herbs and concoctions to carefully build a bit of an immunity up to them. Of course, it was hardly fool proof, but in the moment it was proving to have helped even in the slightest as she was fairing better than Ricard.

“Lady Gray it will take some time to figure out what exactly Lord Blythe has ingested… whatever it is, it is acting quickly. Even if we were able to reach Lady Cress I’m not sure we have the time-“

She pushed to stand, exerting every bit of energy that remained in her entirely weakened muscles and bones. “Figure it out!” Her attention briskly turned to Tilly accusingly. “And where is Damien?! How could they not have found them yet?”

“M-my lady… I do not know, we haven’t heard word.” Cordelia was rarely, if at all, stern with Tilly. She and Wren seemed to be the only ones on her employ that had earned that distinction and respect. It was obvious that the Lady’s raised voice in her direction had caught her off guard.

“Just find them, Tilly. Damien is the answer to curing Lord Blythe… the madman poisoned his own sister for Hells sake.” The burst of energy had run out as quickly as it came causing her to collapse back to her seat, leaned over the bed. “And you, Emerys-“ Cordelia looked up with a hardened stare at the older Elezen. “Find an antidote.” She didn’t need to speak it out loud. The threat, while silent, was crystal clear as she lowered her head to rest upon Ricard’s hand as she took hold of it.

[mentions @ricard-blythe-ffxiv @damien-gray-ffxiv ]

[promethea-silk]

Une vie à t'aimer

[collab with @ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Despite the tiresome days and evenings that had proceeded them, Ricard was the first to wake with the early rising sun. Gently, careful not to jar her, he pressed a light kiss to the back of Cordelia's neck before slipping from under the sheets - loathe as he was to leave the warmth of the bed, and moving to dress - he had to stop by the Milner estate (there was something he needed to pick up) before going to collect an official and he would not be delayed. Not for this.

When she had rolled over to an empty opposite side of the bed, Cordelia decided to go about her normal routine for getting ready in the morning. Seeing as they had discussed certain things the night prior and Ricard was his own person, in general, it phased her little that he had slipped away before she awoke. There were a few items of business she had to handle today but they could wait. First, she wanted to enjoy a nice cup of tea in the sitting room by the fire, allowing herself a moment of quiet as she stirred her mind to life for the day. 

Two hours, maybe three - Ricard wasn’t gone long, and when he returned he wasn’t alone. Two men trailed along behind him - one familiar, the young manservant often stationed within the Milner estate, holding several files and a pair of small boxes trailed directly behind Ricard. Victor never was one to stray far from what he’d been ordered to do. And a few steps behind him was an Elezen man - approximately the same age as Ricard, though standing a good bit taller. Dark haired, and an easy going disposition - he didn’t seem put out by his excursion out of the office.

“It’s a lovely home, Master Blythe. Had you mentioned the walk in addition to the task and the pay…”

“You still would have made it difficult, Gaspard. And I understand. We can’t make it look like you *dislike* what you do.” 

“Tsk. It would be a shame to insult the city that way, good sir.”

“Indeed.” Ricard took a moment, searching for Cordelia before guiding the pair in that direction. “Ah - Cordelia, this is Gaspard Valtin. He is an…associate of mine and will be our officiate this morning. Mister Valtin, my fiancée - to be wife with stroke of your pen and a bit of filing. Lady Cordelia Gray.”

The man in question offered a small bow from beside Ricard. “A pleasure to meet you and to be of assistance here this morning, my lady.”

Cordelia blinked at the abrupt arrival of the trio, setting her teacup down upon the small table beside her before rising from her rather comfortable chair by the fire. Rigid features offered a faint smile toward the man as she lowered her head in a simple nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Valtin. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She took the steps necessary to come to Ricard’s side while still addressing Gaspard. “Surely Master Blyhe has mentioned, but we would greatly appreciate the utmost secrecy regarding our slightly rushed nuptials. We have a ceremony planned in the near future and we wouldn’t want to upset Ricard’s mother as she is so looking forward to the event.”

Gaspard straightened, offering a deferential tilt of his head. “He did mention that, several times in fact, on the way over. And worry not, my lady. Not a soul shall hear about today’s event from me. All will be witnessed and official and the only ones who will know are those within this room.” 

Ricard, his back to Gaspard, covered the small distance to Cordelia, eyes almost comically wide for a moment for effect before pressing a kiss to her forehead and speaking low enough so that only she could hear him. “He’s known for his discretion - I’ve worked with him before. And, I’ve certainly paid him enough to keep to his word. Regardless, I have eyes and ears within his workplace. I’ll know if he veers from his assigned path.” 

He cleared his throat gently, slipping his arm around her waist before turning back towards the Elezen - motioning with his free hand for Victor to move to the side of the room. 

She offered Ricard a hidden flash of understanding upon her face before settling at his side now that they both face their officiant. “Wonderful, I am so glad to hear we are all in understanding.” Cordelia stated now to the room, her hands coming to clasp together and rest just at her lower abdomen. A moment of silence lingered in the air before she glanced to Ricard and then back to Gaspard as she lifted a hand to raise a single finger. “Before we begin, I am waiting for someone.” One again her attention turned upward to Ricard. “My own witness that will also vouch for the secrecy of what transpires.” 

As if beckoned from wherever she had been prio, a tall white haired Viera appeared in the doorway with two gentle knocks before. “Apologies, My Lady, the shipment took a little extra time being counted this morning than I would have liked.” Cordelia offered the Viera a quick smile as Wren crossed the room to take a stance behind the couple before. Close enough to maintain a bit of a looming presence in warning to the one that was mostly a stranger to them but far enough that she would not interrupt the conversation as she merely was there to spectate through her lady’s wishes.

“Very well, if there is nothing else to be taken care of, shall we?” Cordelia requested of the men as her hands returned to their previous position at her front. 

“With all accounted for, I see no reason to delay.” Gaspard offered a smile before laying out the various paperwork he carried with him. “Now - Master Blythe informed me that the two of you have sorted out the necessary details related to your assets. He stubbornly refused to divulge said details -”

“You didn’t need to know.”

“It didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.”

Ricard fought back a sigh, his grip on her waist tightening ever so slightly.

“And that being said, I supposed I don’t really need to know the details, so long as it’s all in the paperwork, which, knowing Master Blythe’s occupation, I have no doubt it is.” Gaspard looked up for a moment, glancing between the two. “Are the two of you looking to exchange vows of some sort, or are we simply looking to make sure this union is official and saving such…displays for a later time?”

“Another time. As has already been mentioned, there is a more public ceremony already planned, at which time vows and such public displays will be exchanged. This is for us and to make our union official, and legal. Now, Gaspard…” Ricard’s eyes narrowed, pointed. “Shall we?”

“Yes, yes. Just making sure you’re getting exactly what you’ve paid for Master Blythe. You did ask me to officiate.”

Ricard barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You were hoping for a show, then?”

Gaspard shrugged, almost managing to hide a small grin, “Perhaps, now, Lady Gray, if you would please step forward and make sure that all on the document is accurate and to your liking regarding your holdings and assets and the combination with those of house Blythe. And if so, please sign here.” He motioned to one particular location, holding a writing utensil out for her use and stepping to the side for her to access the documents.

When addressed, she step forward and began reading over the document, all the details accounted for and mirroring the decisions she and Ricard had discussed prior regarding their assets. “All seems in order and accounted for.” After she was thoroughly satisfied with the information, Cordelia plucked the pen from his hand and found the line for her signature and scribbled it there. Offering it to Ricard now with a breath, she flashed him a brief smile before stepping aside for his approval. 

“Very good, very good. Master Blythe. Your signature here, sir.”

Ricard heard Gaspard, but didn’t seem to acknowledge him - focusing instead on Cordelia’s movements. He stepped forward, gently taking the pen from her hand, his touch lingering for a moment as he offered her a smile in return before moving past, locating the spot on the document and adding his signature as directed. The pen was set down as the action finished as he returned to his place at Cordelia’s side, arm back around her waist.

“Excellent - now, if I could have our two witnesses come forward to sign for me, and indicate that you have both seen this union take place.”

Ricard offered a quick nod, and Victor approached from where he’d been standing quietly off to the side, quickly gathering up the pen, shifting the small package he was holding to his other hand, and glancing to Gaspard for any additional instructions. 

“Print your name and sign my good man, very straightforward.”

A quick nod, the scratching sound of pen meeting paper, and Victor was back against the wall once more, waiting for further instruction.

Gaspard turned to Wren, pen in hand. “And then there was one. Only your signature is missing my lady.”

Wren approached the rest of the group now, passing by Ricard as she did so, her linger gaze no short of a warning toward the man surely. Taking the pen as those before her, she signed her signature in the remaining empty space before setting it down and returning to where she had propped herself up against the wall out of the way. 

Ricard quirked an eyebrow, his hold on Cordelia’s waist tightening, but said and did nothing else in response to the Viera’s gaze - he had no need to.

“Excellent!” Gaspard checked over the paperwork before taking the pen and adding his own signature, looking over things one more time. “All necessary signatures have been obtained. Congratulations Lord and Lady Blythe - the City of Ishgard officially recognizes your union. May you have many prosperous years to come.” He smiled brightly. “Now…will the two of you be…?” He pointed between Cordelia and Ricard with the index finger of one hand as he gathered up his things with his other.

It took a moment for Ricard to catch onto his meaning before he sighed, “You want us to kiss for you, is that it?”

“It was a question, Master Blythe…I mean, you’re going to do it in a public ceremony in front of a significantly larger number of people and it’s just the three of us here…Make it official, official, hm?” 

Ricard rolled his eyes, turning so his back was facing the Elezen - his attention towards Cordelia. “...damn voyeur. And I’d rather it be as private as we can make it…rather than at the public ceremony in several months time. Or we can tell him to fuck off and simply have our time to ourselves.”

Cordelia scoffed, lifting up enough to press her lips to his briskly but it was not without any sort of passion or emotion despite the short lived gesture. She smirked at Ricard, hidden behind him from the official before leaning slightly to the side to lift a brow in his direction. “Is that sufficient enough for you, Mister Valtain? Surely you need not stick around for the consummation?” Her tone was hollow even with the feigned sing song nature of her inquiries. 

The Viera had also offered her disapproval for the request, stepping from the wall as another form of warning. It was obvious how protective she was of her Lady, that never stopped. Cordelia waved her off, glancing over her shoulder with a silent exchange of conversation before looking back up to Ricard. “But then again, if you were to insist-” Oh, she was trying to make him uncomfortable, not that she would have any mind for the interaction should it be necessary except she knew that it wasn’t and she was simply playing with the man at this point. 

“He won’t. Will you, Gaspard?” Ricard responded before Gaspard could, in a tone that brooked no argument. His arms slipped around Cordelia’s waist as he glanced over his shoulder at the other man, his eyes narrowed. 

“Oh fine. Be a stick in the mud about it.” He sighed dramatically as he finished gathering his things. “However - brash I may be at times, but I would not have insisted…Lady Blythe. Your privacy is very much your own. I simply enjoy giving your new husband a difficult time. Now. I’m off to file this discreetly, and will leave the two of you to the rest  of your day.”

“Victor.” Ricard’s gaze shifted to the younger hyur, who stepped forward, attentive.

“Sir?” 

“Set the boxes down and travel with Gaspard. I want two copies of the documentation.”

Gaspard gasped, holding a hand to his chest, “You don’t trust me, Master Blythe?”

Ricard rolled his eyes, shifting next to Cordelia once again. “No more than you trust me. It’s a precaution, and you’d do the same, don’t be so damn dramatic.” He turned his attention to Victor with a nod - the younger man stepping up to Gaspard and motioning towards the door.

“When you are ready, mister Valtin.”

“Yes, yes. Off we go. Until the next time, Master Blythe.”

“Mister Valtin.”

Victor guided the man out, and it wasn’t until the door closed the Ricard fully relaxed with a long exhale.

As the men gathered themselves and moved toward the door, Wren made to add extra guidance to ensure everyone found their way out of the room and estate swiftly. She stopped briefly to add a low nod to Cordelia and offer one more quick protective warning glare at Ricard before offering him the same nod. “Congratulations, Lord and Lady Blythe.” The Viera afforded them before slipping from the room to leave the two alone finally.

Cordelia released a slow exhale, turning her head to look up to Ricard. “Well, that was quick and painless, hm?” 

“As painless as any interaction with that man can be.” He offered a bit of a wry smile as he lifted a hand to cup her cheek softly. “He’s efficient, and damn good at keeping his mouth shut…but for Fury’s sake he’s irritating. And…he did what we needed him to do. That’s the most important thing.”

A kiss was pressed to her forehead as he hummed lowly. “...I have something for you - though I’m debating whether to give it to you now, or later.” 

“You have my interest piqued, now.” She replied, a curious brow lifting with the tilt of her head as to rest against his cupped hand. “However, the decision is up to you, husband.”  The word was an odd feeling on her tongue as she spoke it and yet it somehow did not stir up negativity in her gut as it had so often done before. 

“That will take a bit of getting used to, won’t it?” He grinned playfully before leaning down to kiss her lightly and then taking a moment to step away, picking up both of the small boxes Victor had set down before leaving. “I’d intended to get your approval prior to the public ceremony, but as our timeline was pushed up that did not happen. I realize that gold is the traditional standard…and so far we’ve yet to do anything in a traditional fashion, so why would this be any different?”

He offered the small box - and its partner - out to her. 

Inside were two rings, black gold - one clearly designed for a male, the other for a female. Much like the bracelet both held sapphires. “We break some traditions…we keep to others. Hopefully they are to your liking.”

Cordelia found herself smiling, perhaps not a big enthusiastic smile, but it was genuine and that was far better than most facial gestures she offered to other people. “A good enough point to opt for something aside from gold…the metal does not exactly pair nicely with my complexion, as another.” Lifting her eyes to him, looking up from below her dark lashes. “They’re perfect.” With her stamp of approval, she offered the box back to him once more. “Should we wait or?”

“I suppose it depends on how secretive we want to be.” He glanced at the rings appearing contemplative, but only for a moment before he plucked them from their boxes, gently setting the boxes aside as he reached for her left hand. “Outside of the estates we’d need to be mindful - given the situation with your former in-laws…and the most important exchanges have always been simply between us. I’d keep it that way.” Holding her gaze he carefully slipped the ring onto the appropriate finger, before lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. As he lowered her hand he offered the other ring to her. 

She hummed her agreement, watching as he slipped the delicately elegant ring onto her finger, finding herself surprised at how well it fit immediately. Holding her hand up briefly after receiving the kiss to her knuckles, she admired how the gems shone in the light given off by the candles and firelight illuminating the room. “It really is beautiful, Ricard.” Once his ring had been offered to her, she took it in between her fingertips and gestured for his hand only to slip the band over his ring finger to settle it in snuggly. “How does it feel to be married, Lord Blythe?” 

“It simply matches the one it was chosen for, Cordelia…” His gaze followed her motions as she slipped the ring onto his finger, taking a moment to flex his hand, adapting to the feel of the new weight. He knew it would fit - the jeweler had taken additional time to make sure of it - and still, he’d expected it to feel…off? Odd? The only other ring he’d ever worn with any frequency had been his family ring, and that had been on his right hand. Yet there was no discomfort - and with her question his attention shifted back to her, his arms slipping around her waist and drawing her towards him. “Not at all what I’d been expecting and running from all these years - one might argue that I am quite, -” he gave a mock gasp as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, “-Fury forbid, happy with the development. And what of you, Lady Blythe. It’s not your first marriage, but how does the second compare?”

A genuine soft chuckle came in response, poking at his chest playfully. “You have yet to get to the fun parts of marriage, dear, you may change your mind yet.” The sarcasm in her voice was entirely evident as she looked back now to her hand that rose yet again so that she could admire her new ring. “It is the first marriage to matter, there is hardly a comparison.” Her lifted hand moved to rest upon his chest just as her other did, as well. “I cannot wait for your mother to find out.” 

[@song-of-wren for mentions]

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Into the Fray

Mentions: @promethea-silk; @vahalia-cress

"You look like shit, Ric."

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.

Some things simply needed to be dealt with.

[promethea-silk]

Dualliste

[ Collab with @damien-gray-ffxiv with Cecily Gray-Fontaine)

The neverending cold climate of Ishgard had bore down upon the city’s residents within the prior weeks. Snow, ice, and wind provided what felt like a constant onslaught from the elements to any that were either brave enough or found it necessary to spend any time outside of their homes. Of course, between the dinner with Cordelia and Lord Blythe, Cecily had been keeping her distance from not only the Gray estate but her newfound lover, as well. But her hiding within her rooms could last for only so long before she was required to venture out into the unforgiving brisk nature between the city proper and Damien’s abode out within the highlands. 

Wrapped in furs and warm fabrics, Cecily curled within herself as she felt a shiver run over her being, the sound of the horses’ hooves carrying the carriage from the city and toward her brother's small estate outside of Ishgard. She had taken all the time she could to calm her thoughts in private without any outside distractions to make her next move even more difficult than it already was. Her prepared words echoed in her mind over and over during the travel until she was jolted from her daze as the carriage came to a stop. 

A reassuring nod to herself and Cecily stepped down, her driver holding out his hand to her to aid in the exit. Strands of her bright red hair pulled from her tight cap that attempted to keep what warmth within her and to maintain her wild locks from whipping about with the wind. Stealing her features, she found herself standing at the door for much longer than she cared to admit before finally knocking upon the sturdy wood. 

For Damien, working with his sister had initially seemed out of the question. Not because he doubted her skills, but because he was uncertain that any would believe him regarding Ambrose’s death. Now that they were in league together, it had felt like a considerable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. They would find a way to bring Cordelia down from her pedestal and give their family the justice and closure it deserved. Not that Ambrose might have been particularly deserving of it, but the Gray name was. 

A manservant had answered the door as Cecily knocked. He offered her a tight but familiar smile as he stepped back and gestured for her to enter inside. The hearth was warm and the estate felt well maintained to battle the elements. It would be cool when the sun fell and night had taken hold, but the hearths in the important rooms would heat them considerably. “Lord Gray is in his study,” the man offers with his usual gravel and his hands clasped behind his back as he leads the red headed woman through the halls.

He offers a brief knock before he twists the brass knob and crosses the threshold. He lingers for a moment before he steps aside and gestures towards the door. “Lady Cecily, milord,” the man offers and Damien peers up from the papers he’d been hovering over for hours. He offers his sister a warmer smile than the manservant had provided before he reaches for a metal goblet. “Leave us,” Damien orders and the servant bows before exiting the study. “I was wondering when you’d provide me with an update,” he speaks before he takes a lingering drink of the wine in the goblet. “But I suppose patience was never my strong suit.” 

“My apologies, brother. I had every intention of meeting with you sooner, but I wanted to ensure every detail I was gathering was accurate and important enough to bring to you.” Upon entering the study, she curtsied lightly with the bow of her head. “Every detail is important,” Damien quips quickly as he looks at her from across the room. She had always respected Damien, perhaps feared him a bit but it was in the same sense that she was wary of upsetting her father or their eldest brother. The Gray men were not exactly known as the most patient, just as Damien had just admitted to, and their wraths were of equal measure. “I hope I have not interrupted your evening.” 

“You did not disturb anything,” he offers as he rounds the desk and he sits on the edge of it and he takes another drink from the goblet. He knew Cecily was not stupid. She was cunning and well put and he had largely respected that in her. His hand gestures towards one of the open chairs and he places the goblet down onto the desk. “I suppose I would wager that you’ve found something and that’s why you’ve come all this way.” 

Cecily nodded in understanding, the gesture acting as a visible acknowledgment of his suggestion regarding import. For a moment, she lingered where she stood, leveling her gaze upon her brother as she allowed for one more deep breath before crossing the room to eventually set herself within the chair he had offered. “Perhaps. Truthfully, I’m unsure exactly what you were anticipating in me learning from this little rendezvous and how it is supposed to aid you in our assets being returned to us, but then again, that is your business to handle and not mine.” Slowly she was becoming more at ease, leaning comfortably into the back of the chair as she elegantly crossed one leg over the other with a composed sigh while her hands smoothed the fabrics of her skirts. “Firstly, are you aware that our dear sister-in-law is engaged to be re-married?” The query came with a light tone, almost as if dangling a piece of hidden truths in front of him in hopes that he would bite or play along with the drawn out conversation. 

After Cecily had settled down into the chair, Damien had allowed himself to round the desk once more. His chair was larger, with a higher back and more elegantly crafted but both were comfortable. “No,” Damien replies, his fingertips brushing against the stubble on his chin as he looks at her from across the table. “To that scoundrel Blythe, I imagine?” 

She couldn’t help the scoff that came in response. Initially, the reaction may have been out of her annoyance for the man herself regarding their last interaction, however, she played it off as something entirely different. “Scoundrel? I found him to be quite charming and well knowledgeable in his expertise.” Again, Cecily played with her skirts, idly plucking in stray pieces of fuzz or otherwise from her lap to flick aside. “Charming?” He asks her with a loft of his brow. He’d met the man only once or twice before and he knew that he had been sweet on Valeria. Damien couldn’t recall exactly but he believed the last time he’d seen Ricard Blythe was at a holiday party which he attended with Valeria. The brief memory of her as his eyes averting for a moment before he leans back into his chair. 

“But, yes, that would be the one. I met with him briefly to establish a purpose here in Ishgard. Investments and such. I knew they were connected but I wasn’t aware of the depth there until I had dinner with both of them weeks later.” She spoke in such a nonchalant tone, offering nothing by way of her true thoughts. “And so that’s what you’ve come to tell me?” Damien asks and he reaches for the goblet to take a drink. “That Cordelia is potentially planning on murdering another husband? I must say I care significantly less for this one than I did for Ambrose.” 

“Mm,” Cecily offered in response, a confirmation to the adjective she had purposefully chosen to use in regard to Ricard Blythe. She went about pinching the tips of fabric at her fingertips, slowly pulling each digit free of the gloves she had worn before placing them upon her lap. “No, that’s not exactly my point, though I suppose it is not out of the realm of possibility.” Annoyance seemed to tinge the sigh that escaped her, seeing that Damien had not understood why she found this important. “If Cordelia marries, the Gray assets are combined with House Blythe-” A hand waved in his direction, awaiting him to put two and two together and form an opinion for himself.

It takes a moment for the information to dawn on him and when it does, Damien roughly rakes his hand across the desk to scatter the contents including the goblet to the floor. “That insufferable whore!” He shouts as his teeth grit and a growl forms in the back of his throat. “It’s not hers to have! It’s mine! It’s ours!” He rages, his face beginning to flush. Mark hit. Cecily smiles to herself that the aim struck center, choosing to sigh heavily as she lazily looks at the mess that now lay scattered upon the floor. “Get a hold of yourself, Damien. Your temper is part of the reason there has been little headway with Cordelia in the first place.” A brave choice of words, but she was here now and she wasn’t backing down. “My temper?” Damien balks in return as he spins so that the full weight of his attention is directed at her. “We are in this position because you and our other sister did not listen to me years ago! Ambrose was murdered! I knew it and everyone turned a blind eye!” He felt vindicated when Cecily had agreed to help him but part of him wondered if it was too little, too late. “You place blame on me? Quit acting like a child, Damien, and pull yourself together. There is no date set for their nuptials, we simply have to make a move before the wedding vows are exchanged.” Cecily huffed in contained annoyance as she glanced away from her brother to the mess he had now made on the floor of his study. “Now we must try and regain the traction we’ve lost because I was forced to attempt to handle this matter on my own while Cordelia received assistance from multiple others.” 

“Cordelia and Ambrose were here in Ishgard, as were you. The family name was to fall to you, not me, not our sister. It was a grace that I was able to leave Sharlayan at all with how busy Eiden is with his research and you should be thankful for the help we are able to offer.” The Gray children had never shied away from going toe to toe in a match of witted tongues, but Cecily tended to err on the side of caution when it came to her elder brothers and their tempers. A growl forms in the base of his throat at her words. It wasn’t as if he knew of Ambrose’s death and Cordelia had planned more than either of them could have anticipated. It also didn’t help that Cordelia seemed to have friends in places that Damien did not.

“As I stated before this,” she waved a fluid hand toward the items upon the floor. “There is no date, I am unsure if it’s even been publicly announced considering neither you nor I had known before they spoke it to me personally. There is time to make another move but it must be the one that works or this is all over, Damien.” His throat clears and his hands move to his waistcoat as he adjusts it. “There’s only one option,” Damien concludes as he steps over to the goblet so that he could pick it up from the floor. “We must kill her and we need to find a way to do it discreetly.” 

“Kill her?” Cecily retorted with surprise in her voice. Not that it was a true shock that came over in, of course Damien’s first reaction would be shooting off in that direction. “Don’t you think that is rather rash of a choice, brother?” She stood, arms crossed over her midsection as she watched him gather his goblet. Sighing heavily, she walked toward him and retrieved the cup only to find the drink cart nearby and refill it for him. “What other choice do we have?” He asks her with a loft of his brow. “If we leave Cordelia alive, it will be a constant power struggle for our family name. Our land, or businesses, our gil.” He’d largely removed himself from high society life of Ishgard. Dealing with Cordelia felt like he was dabbling into that again. It was a chapter he’d long since closed and re-opening it felt like he was re-opening a scarred over wound. 

Cecily had been raised by a cutthroat family, each member surrounded each other with certain ideologies that sometimes she found herself difficult to agree with, but in the end, she always would agree with them. The thought made her recall the conversations she had with Arrant as he picked her mind over her personality and loyalty to her family as opposed to herself. She had gained a sense of individuality and freedom over her thoughts but here in the moment, she faltered. “What do you need me to do?” He offered a small bit of surprise at Cecily’s willingness but he smiled all the same. “For now, I think you need to continue playing the part that you have been.” Damien suggests with a thoughtful nod. It would be beneficial to lull Cordelia and Ricard both into a slight feeling of trust. It would make executing this plan easier. “The more we find out about Cordelia. Her habits, her routine, her likes. The easier this will be.” His musing had become more determined and he rounded the table so that his index finger could curl under Cecily’s chin and he directed her attention up towards him. “I need to know that I have your trust. Explicitly.” 

Her entire body tensed at the feeling of his grip on her, no matter how gentle it may have been. Fingers grasped the now refilled goblet even tighter as she looked up to her brother with his warning. Clearing her throat, she offered the drink to him as she wiped any anxieties away with the delicate smile she had been taught to maintain her entire life. “Why wouldn’t you, Damien? We both want the same things. It’s my family name, too.” Damien’s gaze lingers on her for an extended moment. It was as if he were reading her soul and asking himself questions that only staring into her eyes could answer. “Was.” He corrects softly but he takes the goblet from her. “It was your family name. You’re married now, are you not?” He questions as his brow lofts and he rounds the table to resume his spot in the large chair. “So yes, I want to make sure you are aware of the inherent risk of planning Cordelia’s death.” 

The muscles in her jaw visibly flexed as she bared her teeth together, a rising aggravation boiling in her chest. No, she had to stay calm, play her part. She swallowed hard, wetting her lips as the hand that once held his goblet lingered in the air even after he snatched it from her. “Should I then return to my husband? Surely I did not answer your call to aid you where you have failed for something that I am no longer a part of.” Cecily was threading a very thin string, one that was always on the brink of being broken in regards to Damien. “You would think that if my loyalties did not lie with family Gray then I would not be back in Ishgard at all, brother.”

His throat clears at her words, his mind racing as if he were trying to keep up with the verbal sparring and the planning. Damien holds himself back, his honey hues boring into her bright blue ones. There’s many things he wants to say but the words fail to make it to his tongue and his head shakes briefly before his free hand pinches at the bridge of his nose. “My apologies,” Damien offers. It was unclear whether it was a formality or a genuine apology. Damien’s reclusiveness at his estate in the highlands along with Cordelia’s dealings had made him somewhat paranoid from time to time. “I should be more grateful,” he admits. “You’re likely the only one I can trust anymore.” 

When his tone changed and he relented, Cecily could feel the tension of her muscles ease from her body with the singular long exhale that followed. Truthfully, she knew that no matter what she was hiding from Damien, the end goal was still the same. She was playing a long game here and it was a scary one because she was no fool to think that undermining either of the other players was not a risk. Despite her actions being to maintain a sense of calmness and control with Damien to guide him in the proper direction while attempting to save her own self, he would never see it as anything other than a betrayal. The fact that she was going against Cordelia would make no difference. Her hand came to rest on his forearm of the hand that held her chin. “It’s alright, brother. Your temper is understandable as you have been under an immense amount of stress and pressure. I only pray to the Twelve that your malady will be over soon.” 

He nods as he looks to her. Her words felt genuine, but something still felt off. Which he, again, attributed to his own paranoia. His hand pulls away from his chin so that he can gently take the side of her face. “We have our tasks then,” he agrees quietly. “You will continue to gather what information you can and I will find an inconspicuous method of dealing with Cordelia.” 

“She has raised her suspicions of your whereabouts and silence, perhaps I could feed her false information about you in order to gain more of her trust?” She suggested with slight hesitation as her hand fell away from his wrist with the movement of his touch to her cheek. “She’s been very cautious of my purpose of returning to Ishgard, it could do us some good to weave a few lies.” 

Damien nods at her suggestion, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Of course she has,” he scoffs quietly. “I will make your presence here discreet. Female company has not been in short supply.” Damien shrugs as he brings the goblet to his lips and he takes a lingering drink. He doubted Cordelia was significantly tracking his whereabouts these days regardless. “If I am to come up in conversation with her or Blythe, tell them that I’ve requested your help in finding residence in Sharlayan.” It was a sound plan. Damien’s removal had created what appeared to be an obvious disinterest on his family’s holdings and moving away meant moving on. “The guest room upstairs is yours while you are here. As are the grounds. Feel free to come and go as you wish.”

Cecily nodded once, glad to be done with the conversation. Despite it having been brief, the tension made it feel as though it lasted far longer than she truly cared. "Very well, brother." She turned to take her leave, the breath that had once been rigid and tight now released in relief with the understanding that while she had hidden the entire truth from her brother, she had made it out the other side well enough. This may all work in her favor, afterall.

[ @ricard-blythe-ffxiv for mentions]

[promethea-silk]

Vespertine

[collab with @vahalia-cress]

The meeting called by her sister had been the perfect catalyst to rekindle their communication. Through and through, Cordelia’s inexperience with maintaining meaningful relationships seemed to follow her even regarding the sister she had truly come to hold dear. Some time had past since their last face-to-face interaction and much had transpired since Tural. There had been the occasional correspondence from one or the other but despite her attempts to be present and engaged in growing closer to her familial ties, her innermost instinct at what might have brought most to become more connected had caused Cordelia to stray in her ability to provide any sort of comfort and therefore seemed to pull back. Valeria’s death had been a shock to all those around her and while Cordelia found herself tending to matters regarding the integrity of her own household, she had ached to do more for Vahalia in the time following her twin’s passing.

Cecily was being seen to, thoroughly, allowing Cordelia some time to disconnect from the matter to attempt at reconciliation in her decision of unity with her last remaining family. She was pleased for Vahalia to have accepted her invitation, having the tearoom prepared with what she recalled of her sister’s preference of tea and some assorted snacks. Tilly had been instructed of the Cress woman’s arrival time and to have her guided there while Cordelia tended to the fire.

It was Tilly’s knock and voice at the door that ushered her presence forward with the Lady Cress in tow. Despite all that she had gone through in the stretch of several months, Vahalia looked much like herself save for the rounded midsection that barely gave itself away even to the most discerning set of eyes. There was grief and a mother’s glow upon her face, a battle from day to day – to be sure.

“Cordelia.” Vahalia spoke as she stalked the floor towards her half-sister, leaning inward and reaching for her hand. She placed a well-presented and meaningful kiss on the space by cheek and temple, “It’s good to see you again. I feel as if this has been long overdue, certainly in part due to my own busy schedule. I did receive your letter after the funeral but I had things that kept me from a proper reply. I had not wished to injure our chances of finding the people who were responsible for her death as I surmised I might have been watched closely, possibly missives being scoured through. Now…it’s easy to discuss as the threat has been contained.”

Cordelia leaned into the kiss, giving Vahalia’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Oh, I place no blame on you. Truly, much of your world has been through life altering changes and while I certainly would have been invested in aiding in securing your revenge, I also understand the importance of timing and such.” Smiling softly to her kin, she pulled away to settle in comfortably while Vahalia pulled to the seat across from Cordelia and found a nook to nestle and lounge herself into elegantly, “I suspect I’ve missed much, you have my apologies for such.”

The raven haired woman went about pouring their tea into cups, setting one in front of her company and taking the other into her lap. “I would say we have both missed quite a bit between us. Another congratulations, of course. I look forward to meeting my new niece or nephew and I most certainly need to see the twins soon. Admittedly, I never thought I would say I missed a child but now there are two.” 

Graciously Vahalia accepted the tea and hovered it below her nose, taking in the aroma, “You and I both. It wounds me that Valeria will not be able to meet them, but I am pleased that I have yet another such as yourself that will be present.” she looked to the tea and stole a gingered sip from the rim.

“They tend to grow on you quite quickly. Perhaps it as they say, when they are of no relation to you, children aren’t typically enjoyable but when they’re your own – well…” Vahalia’s words clipped and she tipped her head slightly.

Cordelia continued to hold her teacup in her lap as she listened to Vahalia, smiling softly across to her though there was a flash of sadness in her eyes briefly. “I am… truly sorry for not having been more supportive in the time after Valeria’s attack. I did have a hand in the events that set this all in motion and whether I had or not, you are precious to me and while she and I had not the opportunity to grow closer, she was still of my kin. You were both owed more.” She nodded, punctuating her thought before she finally brought the tea to her lips, relishing in the warmth of the vapors tickling her nose. 

The teacup in Vahalia’s hand settled on the table before her, “There is no need to be sorry, you run your own business and House. That in of itself is enough to keep people wrapped up for long periods of time.”

A low hum escaped her, finger tracing the ornate design along the shell of the teacup, “Things have been well with you I hope? Business, personal life and health?”

Cordelia sighed softly, tipping her teacup in different directions as she watched the tea swirl around the cup. With a smile, she looked back up to Vahalia. “Ah, yes, very well. I have completely healed-“ she commented, a delicate hand raising to graze over her chest briefly where she had met the unsuspecting end of a blade during their time in Tural. “Business is busy as per usual, nothing I can really complain about there.” 

Her lips pulled into a faint smile before she continued on, her teacup being lifted to her lips as she spoke over the rim. “And it would seem that I am engaged.” 

“Engaged? My, I never expected you of all the people I know aside from myself to settle back into married life. I’m sure it will look good on you regardless. Being able to make your own choices is freeing.” there was a small smirk as she lifted her teacup, expression glinting over the rim briefly as she looked across to her sister.

“Congratulations, have you begun preparations as of yet or do you plan on having a private affair of it?”

A sound resembling a dry laugh came from Cordelia as she leaned forward to rest her cup to the table now, one leg lifting to cross over the other when she finally sat back. “I share in your surprise, if I am being honest. I never planned to remarry nor did I entirely wish to, but I always kept the prospect in mind for the potential future. At the very least, if I am to maintain the control of the Gray line, children are required to do so. While they may not hold the Gray name, they will inherit both Gray and Corvin entirely.” 

She took a slow breath in, glancing over to the crackling fireplace and it was released with just as much control. “I would much prefer a small private matter but I imagine there may be some… kickback on that decision that I will have to manage.” Shoulders rose and fell in a gentle shrug. “I do hope this one fairs better than the last. I would hate to have to make myself a widow twice over.” 

“Let's hope your second marriage is as fruitful as mine and you don't find yourself settled with regrets or you just might have to become a widower twice over as you said.” Vahalia sipped after her quip.

“A shame you'll be giving the name you worked so hard to rein in as yours to become a Blythe.” Vahalia followed Cordelia’s gaze, “Has Damien fought you on the matter? I'm sure there will be quite the amount of push back considering most are not be keen on seeing their family fortune and legacy go to heirs of a different name, family and line. Gray being the family you married into, especially since kin of the Gray name, directly, still lives.”

The Witch-woman licked her lips and regarded her teacup, “Be careful of whom you keep the company of and choices you make. At every turn there will be those who will look to erase your path forward.”

Cordelia turned her gaze back to her sister with a well-placed smile tinged with darker features. “I have no concerns regarding Ricard or his intentions, it is a known understanding that all Gray holdings will continue to belong to me and they will only be forfeit to my heirs.” A soft tch of her tongue came as she settled back further into her seat comfortably. “Damien has no leg to stand on, though he has sent his little sister to attempt to do his dirty work for him since he’s incapable of it on his own. Nevertheless, you are the first to know of the engagement, there is plenty of time for them to riot in tantrum soon.” 

She pursed her lips, tilting her head slightly at an angle with curiosity. “I also was unaware you had remarried… granted with child on the way, it could be an assumption but the technicality of it all is neither here nor there as it would matter not to me. A babe of yours would be welcomed by me despite the circumstances.” 

The sable-haired woman angled herself in the seat, elbow finding the armrest and her knuckles gracefully kept her jaw propped, eyes scanning Cordelia’s mien as she spoke. She wasn’t about to dabble in Gray's affairs nor that of Cordelia’s and Ricard’s as there was much of her own to tend to, however, the support would go without saying as she certainly knew Cordelia was aware.

They spoke each other’s language, after all.

“I remarried before leaving Tural. Hakan Belgrave as I’m sure you know him to some degree. He has grown into the idea of wanting a larger family beyond just the twins and I agreed. What better way to spend my days to come than married to the right sort, in both necessity and adoration.” she smirked lightly and tilted her head along her knuckles more, “I’m….happy.” she mused softly.

“I cannot say I’ve felt that feeling in quite a long time. Hakan is certain the child will be a girl. However, as we both know, sons are often favored but I’m no longer within the cage of Ishgardian society to care. Loosely tied and my property exists all the same as needed, when needed. Finally, I have someone who walks with me in all matters, is open-minded, apt, and willing to do what is necessary. By any means necessary, no less. My darkness is his, and his mine.”

Vahalia pulled her hand away from her jaw and she reached for her teacup, “I can only hope the same for you with your union to come. Do give Ricard my congratulations. I’ll be sure to send a gift in due course for you both.”

Cordelia’s expression softened, a reaction not many had ever been exposed to from her. “It warms me to know you have found happiness and a partner that tends to your wants and needs as such and even further that you’re bringing a new little one into the world.” A thoughtful sigh escaped her slightly parted lips as she rested her elbows to either side of the chair comfortably. “And for Ricard and I, I welcome the engagement and am hopeful that the sour blood between you may ease even if just enough to accept him as my other half. As I said before, I never anticipated or cared to remarry and somehow he has changed that which I can only perceive to be a positive thing. I will certainly extend your well wishes to him.” 

A low hum escaped Vahalia and she nodded across to Cordelia, “What I think is inconsequential. As long as you are happy, then I am happy for you.” Sure, she could have gone into rhyme and reason, a plethora s to why Cordeila was far too good for the man she was tying herself to. But it had always been her choice to make, regardless. The third time was a charm and Ricard finally happened to bag himself a Cress after shifting through each of them.

Cordelia had a wild heart, one that mirrored Vahalia’s in a sense and deep down, Vahalia suspected that in time, she would grow restless – perhaps bored with the barefoot life staying settled within the confines of Ishgard and estate life. Forever craving more that Vahalia knew Ricard could not provide for her, but there was hope.

A fond smile was afforded to her sister and Vahalia tilted her head, “You’d make a lovely bride and a lovely mother, I’m sure of it. Should you ever need to get away for a spell, Black Water Bay is always open to you and yours and I will do my best to ensure Ricard is welcomed with open arms.”

Part of Cordelia was surprised with Vahalia’s response, it was welcomed all the same. “I am… happy, that is. Truthfully, it has all been quite the adjustment in feelings, learning how to navigate it all.” She hummed through a soft released breath, adjusting in her seat so that she swapped from one leg over the other. “And I do appreciate your kindness, I imagine whatever Ricard will be much the same. Certainly, depending on your schedule at the time, I hope you will be able to attend? Hakan is welcome, as well, of course.” 

Low was the chuckle that left Vahalia followed by that signature hum of hers, “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. It is to be a big day for you and your happiness is a sliver of my own and I wish to see you take the next step forward of your own. It’s a powerful feeling being able to make your own choices without the hands of men interveneting to shift and build your world around you. This is of your own accord and making, there is pride to be had there in that.”

Vahalia gracefully pulled herself from her chair, layers of silken and lace decorated skirts slithered in tow as she made for Cordelia’s side and crouched by the armrest to level with her kin, “This may be bold, but have you ever considered me to be anything but?” her hand found the top of Cordelia’s, “You sound apprehensive, perhaps not as jubilant as a blushing bride could be over a person they love. I know not of what holds your hesitation of pensive tone but know this, no harm will come to you. Ricard may be many things but he certainly isn’t Ambrose. And should he step out of line toward you in any capacity, I will come for him. You are my only remaining sister; even if only by half. I feel it in full. You have my support and protection, reciprocity I know we both share for one another.”

The warm digits that had found Cordelia’s hand gently slipped away to the cooler touch of the hardwood under the Lady Gray’s forearm, “My bond with you will continue to remain infallible.”

Cordelia’s gaze followed the other woman as she stood and moved closer, a concerned curiosity filling her expression until her honeyed words met her ears. She placed her free hand over the one that covered her other, if only briefly to offer reassurance in her own words and appreciation for the regard of Cordelia’s wellbeing. “It is not apprehension in the man, himself, or even truly the decision to marry… “ Her eyes narrowed slightly, stained lips pressing together as she formed her thoughts carefully. “I never thought myself capable of having a reason to feel or express jubilance for such an occasion. However, you are right, Ricard is not Ambrose and I do not foresee there being any sort of transgression against me or any of the work I have put in to get to where I am. He accepts that I may not be the warm, expressive, placating wife that most men of Ishgard expect of their spouses and for that… I have grown to learn how to love another.” 

Her hand fell away before Vahalia’s did, chuckling as if she were almost embarrassed. “Listen to me, like a young schoolgirl.” She took a deep breath before maintaining her gaze on the contrasting light eyes of her kin. “And mine, with you. Though, should your Hakan do any ill deeds against you, I trust full well that you would see to him before I even had the chance.” 

An impish smirk pinned into the corner of Vahalia’s lips, dimple flashing, “Only in the bedroom, dear one.” she mused though loosed a soft chuckle and stood, “He treats me very well and ensures I make sound decisions. As is the way of spouses, no?”

Sidestepping, Vahalia lowered her hand to adjust the fabric that covered her legs, “I should be heading back else some might come snooping where they ought not to. Fatigue has been catching up to me as of late and I’ve been on strict orders to rest and relax since much of the Whitlock situation has been handled and buried.”

The sable-haired woman lowered once more, though this time to place a tender and affectionate peck to her sister’s cheek, “Shadows guide you, and blessed be, sister. The tea was wonderful, do look forward to my parcel.”

"Be well." Cordelia spoke softly, leaning into the brisk kiss to her cheek as she offered her own.

[promethea-silk]

Dying to Love

The sound of the door closing behind Damien and Cecily echoed far too loudly in her head which was already aching with a burning that even the snow outside couldn't dim. Certainly this couldn't be an illness from beggars along the road side. It is far unlikely for something to spread so quickly between the four of them and not touch the household staff. Even more unlikely that Damien, of all people, would have allowed the dirt of Ishgard anywhere near him enough to catch a contagion. She turned away abruptly, realizing she had not yet received word from Tilly on Ricard's state, only to find the small brunette hurrying towards her.

"My lady-" She needed no words of affirmation to confirm the assumption that had already came to her and despite the pain that seemed to course through her very bones, Cordelia was immediately moving briskly. "Take me to him, now."

The route to his location was a familiar one — one that wouldn't take the pair long to traverse, and by the time they arrived the staff that had happened upon Ricard's unconscious form just minutes before had just managed to lay him on the bed and were frantically working to rid him of the formal clothing, the sheen of sweat more apparent now, all but soaking through his clothes.

His breathing shallow, his skin pale — the man had been out of sight for less than twenty minutes and one might have thought that the individual laying on the bed that the staff was frantically working on was a completely different person from the one that walked out of the dining room of his own volition.

Hurried steps carried her quickly to their chambers, a dewiness building upon any of her exposed skin. Cordelia offered no sign of slowing despite feeling slightly ill herself as she pushed through the door and ignored any concerned attempt from Tilly to advise her to take to the bed as well. She came to Ricard's side, her gaze moving over his form and all of his features. He looked as if he might as well be moments from death as the back of her fingers softly moved along the side of his face, alarmed by how clammy he felt despite how high his body temperature seemed. Fury became her as her demeanor steeled, her hand now finding his as she spoke to Tilly without turning her attention away from her husband. "See that the Grays are returned here at once, Tilly." The tone was devoid of any kindness she might have ever showed the woman or anyone else, for that matter. "If they do not comply-" Finally she looked over her shoulder briefly. "Have Wren ensure it is handled. They must be kept alive though I care not for whatever harm may befall them." She was now returned to Ricard as she slowly bent at the knee to lower herself closer to him.

"Ricard, can you hear me?"

Between the jarring of the staff attempting to remove the garments from his torso, her touch, and her voice, something managed to draw him from the haze he seemed to be in, if only for a moment. His thoughts were still scattered, his vision swimming, but at the very least he managed to open his eyes only just and turn towards the source of the voice, eyes unfocused — an action that took a tremendous amount of effort.

"…Cordelia?" No where near his usual timbre, he sounded as exhausted as he appeared.

"Do you know what happened?" She asked, fully prepared to be met with a response that might not be of much help. Her hand now gripped his own tightly, likely the most comforting in any capacity she had been toward another person her entire life and even then, she was already consumed by anger and suspicion. There was no real evidence yet to say who or what had done this to them and most would discredit Damien Gray from the situation as his own sister seemed to leave in a similar state as Ricard, but Cordelia knew better. She would not put it beneath Damien to take out his own sister should it mean getting what he wanted or if he had any inkling she may have turned on him in the slightest.

"That's a…good question…" He felt her hand and tried to squeeze it, perhaps in an effort to reassure himself? Maybe her? And instead it just reinforced how monumental an effort the small tasks were. Squeezing her hand and answering the question both seemed to take tremendous amounts of effort and energy, something he suddenly seemed to be lacking.

Ricard swallowed roughly, closing his eyes for a moment in an attempt to force them to focus — a valiant effort that ultimately failed as he opened them once again, his vision remaining blurry. "After the soup…tried to bring it up…didn't help. Don't know what it was."

What grip he had started to loosen as he fought to stay awake. "Tired…"

She released his hand, place it to the bed and resting her own touch just above. "I will have the physician come… rest." Tilly had previously scurried from the room to alert the rest of the staff, seeing that someone she trusted entirely would ensure that the Gray siblings return to the manor. Cordelia could feel her chest becoming heavy, hardly showing the same intensity in symptoms as Ricard had been but something was certainly off with them both. The back of her hand came to dab at her forehead, Tilly coming to her side with concern although any worry for the Lady of the house was not going to get far when she was more focused on what was ailing her husband.

"…Cordelia…" His voice weak, Ricard tried and failed to gain his wife's attention.

Shrugging Tilly off, she looked up at her abruptly. "Fetch the physician and see if you can get word to Vahalia. She may be of some help should we need it." Her housemaid lingered, brows pinched together as she noticed the off colored hue of her mistress' skin. "Now, Tilly!"

"…Cordelia!" It took nothing short of monumental effort for him to sit up and yet he managed it, though only barely. He reached over, cupping her face in an attempt to turn her attention towards him as he rested his forehead against hers, nearly shaking from the effort it was taking to hold himself upright. "I…think we don't have time for someone to answer a passing summons…at their leisure. Go get seen. Now." His form shuddered as he swallowed roughly, he was unnaturally pale at this point. "…the staff…they can keep me going for an hour…or two. I hope."

He pulled back enough to offer what he hoped was a lazy grin — the same one he always had, though it lacked the feeling. Slowly, his hand fell away as he lacked the strength to hold it up and he slowly crumpled back to the bed at awkward angle, having lost consciousness once again, whatever had at hold on him take effect once more, his breathing shallow, barely moving his chest, the nearby staff swooping in, frantic to move him to a less painful looking position — and despite their jarring movements he remained unmoving.

An eerie silence settled over the room as the few staff members within looked from the man's unconscious form to Tilly, to their mistress, awaiting instructions. "…my lady?"

Cordelia steeled her initial reaction to being told what she should be doing, a thing that rarely went over well with her in any sort of situation and even in this dire moment it burned her blood. Or was that the fever moving over her further? She shook her head, trying to free her foggy thoughts as a hand moved to lay upon his chest to feel the delicate way in which it moved up and down. Her own rose and fell slowly as she took one deep breath before finally standing to allow the staff more accessibility to Ricard, looking to Tilly solemnly.

Ricard didn't wake, there was no shift in his breathing, the only indication that he was even vaguely aware of her touch was the slightest shift of his head towards her position.

"We should…" She blinked a few times, clearing her throat and swallowing hard as she found her mouth dry and beyond tight and scratchy. "Bring Master Emrys directly to Lord Blythe. Immediately. Find a local physician and bring them to me. I will be…in my old rooms." Slowly she began her steps toward the door. "And Tilly? Be quick, ensure he is seen, do you understand?" Despite the tiredness in her voice, there was a serious urgency in the tone as her dark gaze spoke even further as she nodded to Tilly who simply nodded. "I understand, My Lady. Lord Blythe will be taken care of briskly."

Even as the conversation concluded the staff were working to see to the needs and address Ricard's symptoms — the one's they were able to assess — while waiting for the arrival of the mentioned physicians.

It was all a matter of time now. The question was…how much?

[collab w/ @ricard-blythe-ffxiv]