Leysa arched a brow.

"Arran? Well, he has the best gift in this circumstance. Time." She snorted, but a smile was still prevalent on her features. "That is to say he is being rather picky of his choices. Wants to marry somewhere that is not Altalusian."

Like their mother had been from the Free States. A love like that, where the Lord Caretarius met her by chance in one of the many cities there, and over the course of three months on a whirlwind romance, the young Lord brought her to Altalusia to marry. Leysa remembered her dearly, often thought of her when her mind went to wander. Ultimately, she was proud her brother wanted to travel and see the world, meet new people...

If only they were safe to do so.

"He dreams of seeing Suldaza. Insisted he should travel by air ship and learn of the developments made with magitech." There was an ache in her chest. That feeling she only got when she could not provide nor protect her younger siblings from dangers she did not know where or why they came.

Of course, Mama. I promise to look after my brothers and sister.

Leysa sighed. "Should we go check in on lunch?" She needed a sugared lemon tart to combat the bitterness she could taste in her mouth.
 
"Time..."
Didn't stop his father from making certain that his and Laetitia's wedding was all but set from fourteen, Walter thought. Didn't allow for tomfoolery. Travelling the world was fine, a foreign wife? Goodness no, who wanted to get embroiled in the affairs of a foreign state? Thoughts of it alone made his head hurt, and the smile fade.
To rest his head... was that even possible?

"Sounds wonderful. Never been on an airship, myself, in seventeen years. A bit wary, to be fair, I've seen lower heights be dangerous. But, progress knows no fear, or so they say."
He nodded, agreeably, followed her into the dining hall where he expected servants to be shuffling about - lest she wanted something directly from the kitchen, perhaps?

"Would you travel, if you could?" Walter mused. "Sooner or later, your siblings will accumulate enough power to be able to fend for themselves. You speak of Arran's dreams, Leysa - what of your own?"
 
His question struck her, her journey of moving about the ballroom halted as she regarded Walter with a light frown.

"My own... dreams?" She repeated, the words now processing in her mind. What answered it was sadness. Never had she looked forward to anything beyond her life as it was, and perhaps if she had done in the past, she had been a fool in love. Leysa was not going to say that so openly, not when she wasn't sure that was an answer worthy of being thought of beyond just now.

"I..." her eyes averted, dropped to the tiles below. Her shoulders fell next, and her expression turned to something distant.

When she had been in love, she dreamed aloud with him. They would go visit other cities, they would build a home together. Live their lives in quiet, start a family... The only thing wrong with that dream was the man she had loved was accused of murder. Accused of putting her into harm's way. Her dreams were lit and every opportunity had gone up in flames.

She dreaded dreams now.

Leysa opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to the tip of her tongue. Not even breath preceding words warmed her lips. She hesitated again. Was this fear or shame?

"We should check in on the solarium, where lunch will be served." She cleared her throat and crossed the room, passing Walter.
 
His eyelashes lowered, gaze turning from her and to the floor. Perhaps, with regret for asking.
But perhaps, now that he'd dared her to think of it, she would think, and grow. Or - avoid the notion like the plague.
If you want out of your shell, you will need to break it, dear friend. And while I may help you in that struggle, it must be you.

"Forgive me the choice of words, Your Highness. Curiosity had gotten the better of me, what with our childhood sentiments abound and us so very changed," he offered softly. Unsure if that would assuage her as apology. Partially - regretful. But truthful, regardless. "Of course, let us. Has it undergone the renovations with enchanted glass?

Oh, speaking of, I've gotten a word from the north, they've found the strangest shroudweave there. It stems from quartz deposits, and looks like colored glass, but untouched by pigmentation, yet impossibly bright - and almost luminsecent when it catches lanternlight in darkness, seen for miles. It spirals sharply upwards and branches underground, like some strange malformed cypress. The contact thought of harvesting it when they'd written last. Should I bring you a piece?"
 
Leysa did not feel compelled to answer her friend, but the practice of keeping conversations flowing to veil her disinterest was ever at the ready to wield. "No, I daresay father would change a thing in that room." It had been a favourite place of her mother's, and even had much of her artistry left as remnants in the room. "Although what you speak of sounds unique..."

Despite her small moody wish to rest of conversation, Leysa was an ever willing participant in talking. She did it so well, a skill she liked to think made her more approachable and endearing. She had an ability to make someone feel heard whenever she fell into conversation with them.

And thus, Leysa was unable to deny that she liked having someone to converse with.

"I would like to see one. Not to keep, but to view so that I may one day say that I had been in the presence of something truly breathtaking, as you describe it so, Walter." She smiled, waiting until her friend was at her side so that she could take up his arm and lead them both to the solarium. "It sounds like something meant for a fine home in Crown's Hold."
 
He'd talk as they walked, allowing her to take his arm as she pleased. It took a bit of care to match their steps, being taller and all.
"There's also some signs of a hid population of egg-laying creatures I've been keen to explore," he confessed, "But I would need a good few people to pull that expedition off. Not to mention the funding, the logistics - we'd be tracking through dwarven territories, after all."

They'd passed an entryway to the staircase where they'd race, more than two decades ago, down to the inner courtyard, training swords in hand, the tutor following. What was his name?.. Walter remembered the face, the thin elven features. But not the name. If only he could grasp the name again, it felt, everything connected to the man would fall back in place.
He was good at those kinds of games, deft and quick, never enough peers to compete with - sometimes, perhaps, without due grace. He used to be a sore loser, Walter mused. Perhaps, still was? But, back then, as children, they forgave quickly, and bonds of friendship grew on that forgiveness so much deeper than on the shared hours.

A different afternoon drifted into his mind, instead, as they measured steps through hallways and designs of carved stone.
Calloused hands that carved small, intricate designs on wood. Curves of leaves, shaving by shaving defining the curve of the plateau, a steady line of razor-sharp blade defining the shape. I loved to watch him work, Walter thought, and sensed a sharp sensation of a wound opening over his heart as the memory - and the name, bloomed for a few moments more in tender sorrow. His love, who was not spring, seemed so absorbed in translating his thoughts into creation, it was more than weaving. It would last longer than a spell. The smile through the beard that gathered lines at the corners of those eyes, and marked long dimples up his cheeks, would last longer, still. Never again.

"...Oh, sorry, dear friend, did you say something? I've..." an embarrassed chuckle. "My mind has not completely recovered, I'm afraid. I'm sometimes far away."
 
Leysa's expression was arranged in an odd mixture of politeness and disturbance, trying not to think any more on these egg laying creatures Walter had brought up.

When he came out of his reverie, one she hoped was not on those gods-awful creatures, she patted his arm. "No need to fret, my old friend. I am afraid to tell you that our minds do not improve the more we age either." Her tone too on a light, teasing cadence. She pulled him back through another hall, where at the end of it opened up to the solarium.

It was a room filled with warmth; the glass catching the sunlight on a clearer day, but on this dreary one the fire had been lit. Filled with greenery in every corner, flowers cascading from hung pots suspended from a latticework of wooden slats to give the crawling florals something to latch on, and somehow some bumble bees had found their way inside to work through each flower available to them.

Leysa let Walter have his arm back. "Oh, perfect timing!" She delighted, small claps as she strode to the center of the room. Plush blankets and a plethora of cushions surrounded a low table. Sweets, cut sandwiches, fruits, and cheese, artfully arranged for them to enjoy as they conversed. The light patter of rain was ever constant, having started again.

"Every thing is set for you, my lady. Are there any preferences for beverages? Tea? The mulled wine again?" A maid asked, standing by attentively.
 
He laughed, and shook his head.
"I am ahead of you in years, that should be frightening,"
The rest of the way, what few dozen steps remained, was made in silence of a focus restored.

Ah, it was nothing like he didn't remember. And so, he stood for a moment, simply taking in the colors, the frail shapes of flowers, the outlines of the leaves and the patterns they made. His senses expanded, once more, on a slow, deep inhale, the faint scents of flowers mixing with the spices from the baked goods, the sugary scent, the different hitting notes of fruits carved open. Leysa's steps had the undertone of low peaceful buzzing from the bumblebees and an accompaniment of clear, distinct taps of rain drops on glass.

A moment of taking in all of the disjointed pieces before they arranged into a completed picture in his mind.
He took a weighted step in, another, waited for Leysa to settle before lowering at the cushions, careful on the account of his riding boots, and reclined, nodding to the question of the wine.

He did wait for them to be as alone as they could be. Picked up a grape, flown in from the South, pink-purple. It passed through open lips, popped against the roof of the mouth, sweet and tart juice enveloping his tongue.
His new condition's benefits were its downfalls. For every overwhelm, there was an acute moment of truly sensing the aspects of the world around him. And there was solace in that. When the world around was not on metaphorical fire, that is.

"Did you know Trystan von Lyss sent bandits after me?"
Best keep the intrigue, to entertain her prior to reveal.
 
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Leysa's dark eyes widened. Her hand had been reaching for a sweet cake, paused now as she gave her friend all her attention.

"What?" She blurted. Her fingers blindly found the sweet, carefully bringing it back to hover above her lap where some sugar dusting fell onto her skirts. "Bandits? Whatever for?!" Her brows furrowed deeply, partially outraged and curious as to why one would go to such efforts to be a nuisance!

How easily it was for them to fall back into bad habits. Perhaps they were not at the part of gossip, for Leysa had an abundance to share since Walter's absence, but it felt as if this was good stories to share. Leysa lifted her cake to her mouth and took a dainty and neat bite.
 
He picked up a spring apple, tough and green skin, firm flesh with a perfect balance of sourness to it. Sunk his teeth into it, eyes closing to let his senses narrow to just the taste, the scent, the feel, for a moment. A sigh, jaws working as he chewed, reality fading back in. Her question, of course, would not remain unanswered, though he could have certainly crafted the suspense better.
Well, to the pits with it, he never pretended to be a great poet.

"Well, you see," and so, it began, "at the recent Glitterwake ball his son had approached me, not alone, of course - the little craven," or 'the little shit', as Vincent would have called him, "not for a welcome; you see, his concern was that I did not die at wintertime as rumours promised. More still aggrieved he was with the fact that Lettie paid me a visit when my health allowed for visits."

He didn't look at her, choosing to observe instead the manmade canopy of leaves, the droplets tapping cleanly on the glass, grey sparkles catching warm light from the inside lamps. His hand still holding an apple, wrist tilted, holding it close but not yet biting.
"He'd heard some... other rumours, wanted to teach me a lesson, no doubt, and make a scene whether he'd win or lose. I have deprived him. Thoroughly. And, he'd gone away with a broken nose for his trouble. Turns out his father, Count Lyss of the Cielera and Lasomel, does not appreciate being put into place by proxy, and by a lowly baron at that."

A flick of the wrist with the apple holding hand, an arduous sigh, reclining like a laborer after a long summer day in the fields.
"So, turns out he'd given some money and some orders, wanted me to get accosted, beat within an inch of my life. Almost happened - granted, on my terms. What bothered me, is that they had been led by Laric. Do you remember Laric? Funny family name, Delirien, well..." A shadow seemed to pass over Walter's face. Past concern, he had no intent to allow himself to worry more than necessary on things that were none of his business. And yet. "He fits the family name now, and it's no longer funny. No serious harm came to him."

He sunk his fangs into the apple again. A larger bite, holding the tough-skinned fruit close, tongue flicking an almost escaping drop of sour-sweet juice from the lower lip.
A pause. The law of Reciprocity, and the rule of this little game of theirs that felt like it had always been there.
"Your turn."
 
Leysa stilled. Horror, at first, at kept her in the perfect pose of stone. Her eyes stared at her friend, too invested in his recounting to interrupt him with a response or a flicker of emotion.

Yet again, that gnawing of her own doing. Powerless to be of assistance, useless to offer any sort of advice to be of any help for her friend. She could not express just one emotion upon her face once Walter finished. However, outrage settled there in the furrow of her burrows and the sharpness of her dark gaze when Walter tried to make light of the story and turned things back to her.

"Have you told this to anyone?" She demanded, her tone not to be trifled with. "Goodness, Walter, you came here alone! What if you had been waylaid on the road to here?"

She remembered this feeling. How familiar it burned within her, and set her gaze ablaze as she remembered what it was like to still feel this rage underlying. "Is there anything I can do to help you with this?" Insistent, a lady raised on how to run a household and estate with a voice that left no room for hesitations, only action.
 
"No, I haven't," Walter chuckled. "You're the first. I am still pondering what moves I could take. Don't worry, dear friend, I'm not a boy who liked to toy with swords, anymore, I've wielded blades to kill in those seventeen years. Not as easy to teach me a lesson as some might have liked."
He set aside the wine, pressed a hand to his face, brushed it down with a sigh. A small migraine was creeping up, it felt like, at the memory.

"I... honestly do not know. Is there anything? I won't begrudge you if there isn't. I'd only offered it as the first piece of gossip I figured you'd find interesting." His voice went a bit colorless, as he added, "My death might untangle some knots for my family, too, you know. Dolores will be heiress. I could be made a black goat, if they do what must be done and dump all the bad family reputation onto my grave with the dirt. Get themselves a fresh start in polite society."

The silver-rimmed goblet picked up again, he ran the index finger on a filigreed dragon before tilting it at his lips, and drinking the sweet, spiced wine deeply, until the goblet was empty. Not nearly enough.
"Tell me something, Leysa. 'Tis your turn to pour the tea."
 
Leysa's face scrunched with unhappiness. At that moment, she had no real clue as to actually help Walter in terms of protection, but she intended to confer with her brother and work out how to navigate this. Something that would not be resolved right away, much to her disappointment.

"Me?" She snorted slightly, going to chew something sweet before washing it down with a swig of tea. The hot beverage she could feel falling down into the depths of her body, but it gave her a rush of much needed warmth when she felt a cooling draft from the rain reach them. "Well... have you heard of the Garlands' and their haunted house? It is quite the debacle."

Leysa did not want to speak of herself. She did not lead the sort of life that would be of any interest for Walter, not after his opening tidbit.

"Allegedly, a spirit now walks their halls ever since the youngest Garland brought home something from the South."
 
"Haunted house?" Despite expectation, perhaps, Walters attention seemed to perk up from whatever dour thoughts he'd been trudging waist-deep in. "I must admit, I have not. Please."
No further interruptions, until she was done with the information tidbit. Walter brought the wine close to the mouth, took another draw of it, dark eyes watching her.

"Is anyone currently dealing with it? Have they reached out for help?" His tone colored with a careful concern. "If not, I might just go and check it."

He noticed that she didn't speak of her own life, once more as she did not seem fond of speaking of her wishes, either. Pity. Not today, perhaps. He needed to give her time to consider, if time to speak was ever to be possible.
"Sounds like you were a bit distracted to be at the parties. If you want, we could talk more of your more immediate concerns. The game may wait."
 
Leysa let out a delicate snort, one that resembled closer to a soft scoff.

"Are all homes not haunted? I am sure it will go away, perhaps nothing too strange to trouble yourself over." She was glad his willingness to help had not been forgotten. That was how she bonded so closely with him when they were younger. It was a different sort of gallantry expected of all those born into titles and wealth. It was a genuine intention of showing support and presence.

She shifted, dusting her hands of crumbs before reaching for her tea. The rose scent made her smile, but when she sipped it, she could taste the honey that lined the bottom of her porcelain cup. "I have been too ill to be at parties." She corrected Walter. "It is Arran and letters from friends who have missed me presence that tell me the gossip. A terrible cold that clung to me for some weeks! I would have loved to have attended the Glitterwake! Gods, I had a dress I would have loved to have been seen wearing."

The eldest Caretarius pouted her bottom lip, setting her tea down.
 
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