@oraclespoken : Delicate hands upon fragile petals, handling them as if they would disappear into the winds. Her song stops as steps neared. Lunafreya rises and looks to a nervous Maria accompanying the scarlet stained woman. "Oh, Commodore Highwind," she greets with a nod. Aranea as she knows her, has made a name for herself within the Niflheim army. She's heard Ravus speak of her many times before. "Is something the matter?" Lunafreya asks despite sensing a hint of the plague of stars lingering around her.
𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙾 𝙱𝙰𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙴 in fleet of airships as they come in to dock —— twenty-minute grace period to retrieve their things & clear out. they have sped to the manor in the nick of time. 𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚, pelting her calming prairies & valleys into a precarious landscape. fleuret aides awaiting in the distance by the vast manor’s entrance that has poured out from their stations 𝒕𝒐 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 for such an “unannounced” visit. unease begins to swirl in the air toward the sudden occupation of men donning imperial military vestments gradually MARCHING IN CADENCE & eventually spanning the length of improvised landing strip. three rows of mercenaries stand, unmoving. at her rear, biggs & wedge. mid-stride instructs them to wait by the ships. & then saunters across grassy fields segmented by asphalt walkway en-route to mortared stone staircase, 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒍𝒆 & 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 against fields of cerulean flower stalks carrying with it a sweet perfume in 𝑼𝑵𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑮𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑺. & smells also faintly of ferment & rain that is about to fall. there is a sense of richness about fenestala manor that reminds her of imperial city —— of the upper-tier stuff, gold leaf accents, conical spire rooves, towers aplenty. it is...ritzy.
once at the gate, aranea exchanges a few words with the steadfast man of a guard on duty. from the perception of the fleuret attendants, what was said must 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉, because he powers the gate’s doors open with a herculean force.
in the foyer of the manor, aranea watches activity increase as though she’s kicked a beehive. many pairs of eyes of staff alike settle on her in passing —— some with scrutiny, others with curiosity. fortunately, aranea finds that she does not need to stand 𝐢𝐝𝐥𝐲 & 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 & idiotically next to a large flowerpot while being watched because no sooner is she approached by a woman ; the skin on her neck cracked with age & 𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒔. her grey hair is combed ( rather, heat styled ) to an immaculately neat bun & there is something so delicate yet regal about her. perceptive blue pools of sight 𝙵𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙴𝚃 while she greets aranea as graciously as a woman of her age can muster ; a grace that is bone deep & practically ingrained into her DNA. aranea, 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔, coughs up a nicety in the form of a polite dip of the head in kind to the woman who introduces herself as ‘maria’, already deducing THE DRAGOON’S IDENTITY with contextual clues & her political savvy. her body language is one which suggests a ‘walk & talk’ session.
following maria, whose silken brocade fabrics of skirts’ hemline lick the back of her ankles in stride, she carefully explains the reason for her visit through the 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑩𝑳𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑺 of the manor : during a daemon-hunting assignment near the vesperpool, one of her men & youngest of her rag-tag unit, drummond was caught unawares & pinned to a nidus which was ultimately destroyed, but a remnant of it remains lodged into his shoulder, infecting him with its dark elements known as STARSCOURGE & has been spreading since. like any communicable illness, he is isolated on one of the airships. 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 since & he requires assistance “like yesterday”. assistance that only one known individual on this gods-forsaken rock can provide.
the governess doesn’t say much for the duration ; however it can readily be perceived by the downturned line of her lips that she is 𝙳𝙸𝙶𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 it all. it is an austere understanding that the situation is dire. what aranea 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 is that a promise has been made to drummond that he will receive the proper care & be ready to go back into the field in no time. & if not...? swallows hard at merely the thought she is actively in denial of.
aranea stops behind a large, carpeted doormat —— floral art nouveau designs embroidered. it matches the banister & matches the poise of the woman who is engrossed in flower arrangement on the other side of the already pried-open 𝑫𝑶𝑼𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑫𝑶𝑶𝑹𝑺. she settles a hand to her hip & stares at the door’s threshold, to maria pouring past it & then to the oracle who in duality to her dark clothing wears clean ivory linen. 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 & 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎. ancient, but drawing in desperately an aura of security & comfort. the fragrance that’s greeted her is delightful, like a MELODIOUS tune. ( unnervingly calm —— even by her standards. ) she stays like that & can imagine lunafreya doing the same in their equivalent introductions.
❝ princess, ❞ comes her voice, a tonal rasp adding to her dark mystique. coupled with a nod of her own, ❝ didn’t mean to shake things up around here by my impromptu visit, but it’s pretty urgent...❞
❝ i’ve got a guy on deck who’s in pretty bad shape. think you can take a look at him? ❞
