eclecticmuses August topics: Communication
The boat - ship, she corrected her thought - had arrived about a day and a half earlier than the due date. So there had been nobody waiting for her at the port in New York. It was an odd feeling, disembarking there. Few people crossed the Atlantic by boat anymore. Then again, few people posed as much danger to a flight as she could be.
Despite the ... feeling of staying on each other's toes at all time, though, the journey had not been unpleasant. There was so much peace just at an arm's reach, looking out from the deck... Despite the season, Svetla had spent a lot of time doing just that. Grasping for that peace against all she was feeling - from the other passengers, the sailors. And from within.
There was... ache. Deep unquestionable ache that had started as soon as she could no longer See Pollux's - Pol's... specter as his own ship sailed him and his siblings (and the two tiny unborn babies) away from her, back in the summer. Despite the fact that all that had filled her life before was still there, something was just missing and that hurt. For a few days she'd found it hard to concentrate. She wrote to him, even though she knew the letters would probably arrive at his home before he did. Writing... helped. A tiny little bit. She forced herself to get back to her research, to her work. But the ache didn't go away.
It did ease a bit when his first letter back arrived. That day seemed brighter than any since he'd left for home.
But the ache of missing him was there, even though she knew she was traveling towards him now.
There was impatience, therefore. She couldn't ... not truly, speed the ship by calling wind or enforcing currents, but she still willed them faster, and... they did arrive a little early. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just early.
Svetla came out of the cab, backpack on her shoulders, before the entrance of the grounds. Partly because she wanted the walk to calm herself a little - if that would work - partly because she could see there were wards and didn't want to make the driver uncomfortable for passing through them, and, partly, just because it seemed right somehow, she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
The walk was... interesting. The grounds were alive, even more so than Simon's homestead at Archangel. Simon connected to a lot of people, besides the actual property. This? Had a connection that spanned back a long time, all flowing in, and attention flowing it out. Unconscious attention, but she had no doubt, even though wards did not spring up in action, that her entrance had been noticed. It was only right.
As time had flown, and she'd gotten to know all four of the DuMorne siblings better - through the time spent together in the summer, and the various letters exchanged since - she'd also gotten to getting ideas about their parents, and, truth be told, those ideas were somewhat intimidating. There was an unlimited respect from each of their offspring. Almost unnoticeable specs of fear, flashes of disappointment, heaps of affection, very different, and mountains of respect. Justin and Margaret DuMorne, she knew, would be a formidable couple to meet under any circumstances whatsoever. But like this... as somebody - potentially probably likely so wanted - close to their eldest surviving son - as somebody who knew she loved that son - it was frightening.
What would she say? What if she did something wrong, in her joy for seeing Pol? What if she missed something they considered necessary for him, and that was no improbable fear, that one? What if they just didn't like her, and she became reason for - more? - problems between Pol and what was expected of him, and his father? What if...
She'd know soon, she forced herself to think. Loosening the coat's ties, she let the cool November air clear her head somewhat, the scent of recent rain sink in. In the stark, dark hues of the late fall, it was a beautiful place.
She was focused enough on the building starting to appear in front of her that the sound of horse hoofs surprised her. She looked to her right to see a track leading off the main driveway and a familiar shape with a not-yet familiar baby bump, the double clouds to her vision bright and overlapping the duller Sight of the horse she was leading. The words were out of Svetlana's mouth before she even thought to say hello.
"I think you're not supposed to do much riding when you're--"
"I know! He needs his exercise too, though and I was just leading him out for a-- Wait. Weren't you supposed to come in late tomorrow? There was going to be a welcoming committee waiting for you."
"The ship sailed in early. I didn't exactly have much reason to stay down around the port and all. You should be careful with this one even just leading him too!"
"Oh he is fine. He'd not hurt me on purpose. "
"True, he wouldn't."
"Let me get him back inside and I'll walk with you back to the house."
"Thank you. Let me help."
Solace laughed, briefly. "I think we can manage - but... sure."
Svetla walked closer, smiling at how well the mother and son were doing. She wasn't exactly an expert equestrian, but she'd spent enough time in steads that included stables to know her way. "He's beautiful."
"Yes, he is." A slight pause, and then, "Pol's out on his bike, you know. He's been going out daily for the last... more than a week, I believe. Since you had to go out of touch." Svetla winces slightly. That was definitely more than a week. "He might come back for lunch. Possibly."
Hours, or even up to most of a day, here - without Pollux? That wasn't something that she'd exactly considered. But - that's how it was to be, obviously. I can do this. Somehow.
She crossed the threshold of the mansion by Solace's invitation. The conversation till then hadn't been chatty, but it hadn't been particularly strained either. She'd grown quieter as they walked past the front of the house, images of certain familiarity flashing before her half-closed third eye with startling clarity. Solace... just seemed to avoid looking at that certain spot. It was almost beginning to fade, but there still too much of it for her to ignore.
She had not fully asked Pollux for the details. But now she saw the flashes of the worst of the pain in context. They'd brought him here. He'd died here. But he hadn't been attacked here, of that she was positive.
And then they were inside. All too soon, faced by the Lord and Lady of the house. There was no other way in which she could put the presence into words.
Madeleine and Philip were there too, as well as another young man, she thought Madeleine's husband, close to her, both physically and emotionally. The former with her own baby bump, glowing; Philip almost unchanged, although he seemed to be missing somebody a little less. A trifle more comfortable with who he was. Maybe time would level out his balance back where it belonged.
But the other two...
She had expected a big part of Warden Justin DuMorne to have been immersed in the estate. And that was so.
What she hadn't expected was that it was negligible, compared to the connection he had with his wife.
Back at Archangel, she had perceived all four of the DuMorne siblings interconnected, more than almost any other family she'd ever seen, and that meant a lot. But it was nothing to the way their parents were bound together. Merged together, almost.
If Pol's connection with his twin was that strong... Yes, that would more than explain the damage. She'd extrapolated a very, very strong connection.
But she'd not yet seen this, and how it was actually possible. It was a symbiosis, more than anything else. It was completely amazing.
She also saw the golden glow that Margaret's soul gave off, caressing all around her, strong and gentle at the same time. Madeleine had some of that, but it was glowing, strong and confident in her mother.
And she saw the deep, deep scars in the head of household's soul.
There was not one bleeding wound, the way Pollux's blob was (although Svetla had no doubt that if his wife was removed, he would bleed even worse. Probably fatally). But there were scars. Some seemed old, almost as if he'd been born with them, damages of inheritance that he could not help. Some were inflicted at a young age. Some were memories of things he had done, some of things done to him, and some done to those he was responsible for, and they all would have left him incomplete, vicious, if it wasn't for that soft glow which twined around him.
It was not a one-way flow, though. Soul-matter flowed both ways, all the time. Nobility, strength, love flowed from him to her, grace, kindness, and love back.
And the connection she'd seen among their children? It made infinitely more sense now when she could see the hub around which it all formed. The center. Whatever else was going on, all three of the children were orienting themselves according to their parents. It was... amazing. It was beautiful.
And they were expecting her. The amount of attention directed at her was close to staggering.
She was almost grateful for the learned routines of traditional, formal, almost ceremonial introduction. The flow of conversation was uncreative, but it eased the initial panic - which included, among other things, what was I thinking, walking all this way, showing up here almost winded, with my hair wild... and everything?
But formality did help the initial meeting through, and she didn't even stutter. At all. In these presences, she did feel small, recent, deficient - but they were also welcoming her, there was no previous determination to dislike or criticize her.
The only criticism came from Warden DuMorne... from Justin. "You could have called, we'd have sent a car to bring you in." She blushed, as much at the words - she'd thought about that but had not wanted to truly disturb them, early as it had been - as at the flicker of genuine irritation from the master of the house, one that went deeper and stronger than the even, almost gentle tone implied.
He must be somebody whose words are frequently misunderstood, she thought. Which made the adherence to formality even more sensible. Patterned communication was harder to get wrong.
She sensed that the original 'audience' was over even before somebody was directed to show her to the room that had been prepared for her, and the gracious tones of her hostess informed her that she was welcome to join them in the library as soon as she had rested from her journey.
Which meant the family was going to be probably waiting for her there. She hadn't planned on taking too long anyway...
Solace walked with her part of the way, before she turned down another hallway. "My husband will join us for dinner, he's been away for a business trip. I think this would make your meeting the family complete."
"Thank you. I will come down in a bit," Sveta called after her. For some reason, she had a tiny suspicion that the intended walk of that stallion wouldn't have happened if Wizard LaMarck had been here. And somehow, that amused her.
Maybe... this visit wouldn't be this frightening, after all.
She hoped, even less so, when Pollux returned home. She couldn't wait.
ooc: This is covering some of the drabble requests, setting up a minor plot point, and open for comments - ic and ooc - if you object to something, etc. - to the muses and muns involved. The muses are:
warden_betrayer: Justin DuMorne
wild_maggie: Margaret DuMorne
dumornes_sol: Solace LaMarck
wizard_dark: Pollux DuMorne
dumornes_girl: Madeleine Edwards
before_my_sight: Braden Edwards
wizard_nobility: Philip DuMorne
(Referenced, wizard_light - Castor DuMorne and delamarck - Stephen LaMarck) - this is partly a request fic and may undergo changes if necessary, but muses used with tentative permission. <3