Morning Room -- Moritani Estate (Kaitain)

 

������� Small, only perhaps twenty feet square, the morning room is made to feel larger by way of a series of windows along the southern and eastern wall. No doubt the room has been strategically placed; the bank of windows catches the morning light at an indirect slant that is at once lulling and energizing. The floor is set with terracotta tiles, a frosty awakening to bare feet in the morning. In the center of the chamber, a thick, round oriental rug covers the tiles, and manages to seem slightly out of place.

 

������� The furnishings, being more of the casual, comfortable variety, consist of a couple thickly-cushioned loveseats and several over-stuffed chairs. A small teak table sits right next to the bank of windows, and a pair of cushioned chairs flank it. Rich frescos, depicting the glory days of ancient Grumman and Moritani victory grace the other walls of the chamber.

 

Players:

�Mathilde������������������������������������������ Ophelia

Exits:

�Sliding Metaglass Doors <E> leads to Celestial Veranda -- Moritani Estate (Kaitain)

�Vaulted Archway <N> leads to Corte del Cielo -- Moritani Estate (Kaitain)

 

 

Sisay

 

������� Sisay has a tall and imposing figure, her black curly hair bundled together in a pony tail with a silver hair-pin. Her black eyes glimmer in the light, expressing a calm state of mind. Pink, sensual lips seem to smile mysteriously, outlining her two dimples on her cheeks. The pony tail outlines the delicate and elegant neck line.

������� She wears a black suit made of a light material. A black jacket with red lines on the arms protects her torso and chest where she wears the small dragonfly insignia of her House. A leather belt is tightly buckled at her waist, holding a shield generator, a metal rapier scabbard and a dagger sheath. Several small pockets can also be seen at the rear end. The suit continues with a pair of black pants which fit the lady's athletic legs tightly but still feeling comfortable. She wears a couple of black war boots which make loud noises should she step on bare floor.

������� Between the opened sides of the vest, crossing her neck almost invisibly, a leather band can be seen. At a closer look, one could see a big claw which hangs from the band at the Lady's chest. A deadly bear claw.

 

 

 

Morning Room -- Moritani Estate (Kaitain) -- TABLE:

The table is low, though at a height suitable for either dining or writing. Fine silverware usually sits out, a place setting appropriate to either breakfast or lunch. Only a pair of chairs are placed at the table, the intimate setting also affording a breathtaking view through the windows.

 

Morning Room -- Moritani Estate (Kaitain) -- WINDOWS:

The metaglass windows look out over the narrow strip of brilliant emerald lawn, to the deep sapphire of the lake beyond. In the center of the lake, when the morning mists allow it to be visible, the stark ruins of what looks to be an ancient temple rise up in the center of a small island.

 

 

Dusk settles across Kaitain beyond the windows, and in the chair she usually occupies in this room, Ophelia sits observing it. Tea has been set out, as well as small, sweet pastries; the staff indeed was prepared, as promised.

 

������� Escorted in by a servant, the young Lady Ginaz enters, trailing silently behind her guide in black outfit, covered from shoulder to toe with a black cloak which rustles gently as she walks. The only patch of colour is the white of her face skin and the button at her neck which keeps the cloak tightly wrapped around her body. It is of a dark green colour and oddly shaped in form of a shamrock.

������� She walks in, at a slow pace, looking around through the room, her gaze being caught for a few moments by the breath-taking view of the windows. As she arrives at a decent distance from the Countess, she dips down in a bow, kneeling. "Your Excellency... how may I be of assistance?" she says, her voice soft, betraying more anxiety than curiosity.

 

"Sit with me, child," Ophelia says softly, her tone far more gentle than she's been with others of late. She lifts a hand, gesturing to the chair nearest her, as well as the tea. "If you are thirst, please, help yourself." She gives another wave, and the servants leave them, closing the doors behind them securely. The Countess, by the looks of things, has prepared for a private conversation.

 

������� Sisay raises from her bow and looks backwards to the closing doors. But the gaze returns to the Contessa and she walks along, widening her cloak as to reveal her hands. Under one of her arms two books are nestled, which she carefully places on the edge of the table before she takes a seat on the designated chair. Another gaze is given to the unique, yet tranquil view offered by the windows as she speaks in the same low and soft voice: "Your Excellency, I must ask your forgiveness for I haven't brought you anything. It is my fault as I had so much work to do at the College this day..." she pauses to look in Ophelia's direction. " I barely rembered your note..." she adds, forcing a shy smile afterwards.

 

Ophelia chuckles, the sound quiet, and very nearly empty of mirth. "You don't need to bring me anything, dear. But I appreciate the thought." She glances to the books, her eyes passing over the titles as she reads them. "Are your studies going well for you?"

 

������� With the slightest of a sigh, Sisay replies: "Yes, your Excellency, thank you. It is tiresome, but I seem to be advancing." With a smile, she adds: "Slowly, but surely." She follows your gaze to to topmost book, not very thick but bound in sturdy leather, entitled 'Extreme farming technologies. Research and Applications.' and explains: "Since the Duke Atreides was so kind as to invite me on the recent farming deal, I thought to delve a bit deeper into the subject." She extends her hands to grasp the cup of tea, with clear delight in her eyes as she does so. But she doesn't drink from it yet, she just clutches it tightly in her palms.

 

 

"Excellent. We'll soon need to set up a meeting to discuss the conservatory. I would, perhaps, like for your uncle to be present in that meeting so that he is aware of, and can approve the plans," Ophelia says, her eyes dropping from the books. "And, too, some sort of small celebration seems in order. Life, my dear, must carry on."

������� The Lady nods, looking into the Contessa's eyes with a kind and deep gaze, trying to understand the woman before her. "Yes, my uncle or our Mentat should be present too. But... " her voice trails off, becoming a bit softer "I wouldn't insist on the celebration, Your Excellency. Not unless you definitely feel for it." She looks downwards into her cup and the vapors its contents emanate. "Life does carry on but feelings often linger. They must be mended, turned away lest they return in our dreams to haunt and make us suffer." With a sigh and raising her gaze again she adds: "Your loss was great. Maybe to great, and I can relate to that... We need not hurry..."

 

"I am a Siridar, dear. Duty requires of us, often, that we set aside feelings and carry on. There are many, many more people who count on me. The people of Grumman, after all, are my responsibility. I knew this when I came to Kaitain and accepted the mantle laid on my shoulders," Ophelia explains in a soft tone. "Oh, but yes, it is so very tempting to remain in bed, with the pillows over my head. Wilhelm would not allow me to do that when he was alive. In death... I would be making a mockery of it all if I continued it. I have had much time to think. I am a Moritani. And I have my people, and now my child, to consider. We women.... we sacrifice much, but it is our role in life, indeed."

 

������� Sisay listens as the Contessa speaks, every word assimilated and memorized. Funny how the two women resemble, in some ways. The pride more than anything. Yet as the words are being spoken, Sisay's mien changes. Subtle at the beginning, yet more and more shifting towards the dark side of the girl, the sad, unstable and depressing self. That which she even before spoke of, comes haunting her. A pale, distant memory of boy in his full bloom with the same pride bestowed on his face as the two women here. But the image trembles and shifts. A dagger... poison... and the boy's bright future crumbles, six feet under. Where pain and suffering lie, tears are also found. They trail off the Lady's eyelids, down the white cheeks, glimmering with pale reflections in the dim light as they fall downwards, splatting off her hands and even further down her cloak untill the shadows below hide them.

 

The Contessa's voice fades, as she stops speaking. Though, to be sure, she's watching Sisay's face to see how what she's said has affected the girl. Wordlessly, she rises, reaching to take Sisay's hands in hers to guide her to one of the loveseats where they may sit side-by-side. "Come," she says quietly. "There is more to this, I see. And I know what you need right now."

 

������� Whimpering, speechless and almost feetless, the girl obediently follows the voice of... of whom? Feets are heavy as plasteel and every move hurts as she walks between reality and the murky lands of her dream. At the first step awaits a young man, laughing his heart out. After the next, the same man stands, defiant with despise written all over his face. The next one is an enraged warrior, thrusting his sword forwards. Then, a smiling young boy appears, apparently reaching out for a hug. Scared, scrying, she walks guided by a deep-sounding voice. The words are unclear, but the call is strong, stronger than the terrified voices in her ear. Everything shifts, all the faces swirl around in disorder, flying away through a window and they dissapear inside the ancient remnants of a ruin.

������� There she sits, near the Countess, hands clutching tightly upon hers, the traces of tears still fresh on her cheeks. She breathes in, thankful for the blessing silence of the evening.

 

Ophelia settles herself, pulling Sisay along and down to the loveseat, to sit by her side. She embraces the girl, the gesture entirely motherly, urging her softly to go ahead and cry it out. Hands pat the girl's back and hair, soothingly.

 

������� Through the whimpers of her beavy breath and aggitation, she manages to mutter some words. "You... are... mmm... so right!" She pauses to take the edge of her cloak and wipe her face off, before her head falls down on her lap. her aggitated chest rises rythmically as she continues: "He'd want me strong... but I'm not... "

 

Ophelia pulls back, tucking the girl's curls back from her face where they belong. "You, my dear, are far stronger than you think." She reaches out, touching the bear claw lightly. "We have our strengths, each of us. I could not have done what you did to earn this, for example. And you came out of it, still so very sweet and gentle. You have mettle, Sisay Ginaz, and you have brains in your head. And, too, you have the physical strength that I do not." Her hand moves, fingers touching under the girl's chin and lifting it gently. "You can do what must be done, and I'll hear no more talk of you killing yourself, hmm? You have not come this far, and been through what you have, to give it all up now."

 

������� Sisay reches up with her hand and clutches Ophelia's palm as she touches the claw, squeezing gently as if to let the older woman feel the lethal strength in the dead bear's claw. Her lips move just a tiny milimeter in a smile as she remembers again the test she had passed years ago, mutating her fragile soul from an innocent girl into something else, growing both stronger and weaker at the same time. A lesson with two conclusions and neither of them were understood. She looks up to meet the Contessa's gaze and whispers: "I need help..."

 

Ophelia touches Sisay's brow, her own forehead creasing. "What is it, dear? What troubles you?"

 

������� Sisay sighs, a deep sounding, worried sigh. She speaks softly, whispering as if even the air would have ears to spy on her: "I got lost... I can't hear anything... Can't see... I'm afraid, very aff... afraid." She pauses for a breath and carries on: "I don't love Mintor, yet I cannot break my promise. I wish to please, yet I fail... I cannot feel." She looks upwards to you, with a scared child's gaze and asks: "Why?"

 

Ophelia sighs as well. "Love is not a prerequisite for marriage, Sisay," she explains. "In this day of arranged marriages, politics dictates it. I faced the same thing, and I promised myself that if I had to marry I would make it as painless as I could. Fortune smiled on me... I cherished Wilhelm. But he was not my first choice, nor was the Count-General Maas of House Harkonnen. There is another I love, but cannot have."

 

Sisay smiles and wonders: "How nice... What do the these Harkonnen have to attract us so much? They shouldn't be gentle, yet they are. They shouldn't be loving, yet they are." She takes a deep breath in, much more calmed now. "I won't break my promise. Although it is a forced one, I will respect it to the end." She shudders lightly at the last word. "But my heart will never be with him. Never!"

 

"I think it is a side they only show to very few," Ophelia sighs quietly. "And you and I, it seems, have been blessed to be shown that side. I can, however, if you wish, speak to your Uncle, to see if there is something that might be done. Perhaps the alliance is not as cemented as it is thought? Perhaps you might be freed of your promise, without causing trouble between the two Houses? But if it cannot be, at least... Mintor Atreides is an honorable man."

 

Sisay raises up her hand to gently touch Ophelia's cheek in faint caress. Or is she just trying to assess that she's for real and not one of her dreams? "Please, spare the trouble... if this is my destiny... the next bear I have to bestow upon, then I must take the challenge." she says in a barely audible whisper. "We're both mourning, my Lady. I lived in the shadow of my brother for too long. And it seems I cannot avenge his death by a blade. I can only live... as he would have wanted it."

 

Ophelia's lips purse ever so slightly. "How did he die, your brother?" she asks, curiosity very clear in her tone.

 

Sisay closes her eyes and pauses for a moment. Then she speaks in the same murmuring as before: "He was the oldest among us. Tall and strong. Tradition was it that he'd go to the Academy and train." she sighs, turning her head towards Ophelia's stomach and curls into the seat. "The re was plot meant to kill our uncle. But fate had it that my brother picked the poisoned dagger and injure himself with it, during practice. He died within the hour." She sighs and adds: "I blamed you, the Moritani's for this, all those years untill I arried here and panicked in front of Lord Marco as I first met him. He was kind, in his way. Even patient and made it clear to me that my blame would be in vane... I'm sorry."

 

Ophelia's eyes widen as she listens to the tale, and she nods deeply. "You... had just reasons for accusing us, in your mind. In my own, I might have done the same. It is what 6000 years of Kanly does to us, dear. You need not apologize, really. At all. And I am the one who is sorry, for your loss."

 

Sisay smiles happily. And it's a genuine one, warm and soft even if her eyes still glimmer from the recent tears. She struggles back to an upright position on the seat, managing to get on her knees at your side. "I know it sounds silly, but... could we be friends?" she asks, looking downwards. "Setting aside business and House... Just Your Excellency and me?"

 

"I thought we already were," Ophelia says, a small amount of surprise crossing her face. "And I do wish you'd call me Ophelia, when it's just the two of us like this."

 

Sisay widens her arms and embraces you tightly. "Thank you!" is the only thing she says. With her mother on a distant planet, a loving but way to much absent uncle in her father's place, she is just trying to find someone to inspire from. And learn.

 

"Thank you, dear," Ophelia murmurs, returning the hug. "You will be alright now? No more talk of killing yourself...?"

 

Sisay falls back on her knees, knitting her hands in front of her. She nods her head up and down, bouncing the pony tail behind her, a silent shadow underlining her decision. "I solemnly promise and may God strike me with Holy Lightning if I ever do so again!" she says, biting her lower lip as she finishes, looking at Ophelia from under her eyebrows.

 

Ophelia smiles softly, "Oh, I don't think that is all that necessary. But, I am so very much relieved. I wouldn't want you to miss being introduced to my son when he is born."

 

A smile lights her face up again and her eyes brighten as she giggles: "I heard some rumors about that! Whow... congratulations! A son? Thought of a name?"

 

Ophelia shakes her head. "No, I had not. But I have a few months yet.. 6 or so.."

 

Sisay opens her mouth for a soft "Ooh...". She stands there, awe-struck, as her hands fold to her chest. She then chuckles lightly and says:

��������������� May the blessing of light be on you

��������������� light without and light within.

��������������� May the blessed sunlight shine on you

��������������� and warm your heart

��������������� till it glows like a great peat fire.

Spoken probably to the child, or to the mother, they come from heart, spoken with a kind, soft and melodious voice.

 

Ophelia touches her stomach lightly, the small bulge hidden beneath her gown. "There is no sense in me hiding it any longer, either. I have new gowns coming from Grumman soon, and then it will be easy to tell that I am with child."

 

Sisay beams a smile, loving and understanding. "It is a blessing." Looking up, towards the window, where the night already spread its wings around the Estate, Sisay realizes the time. "Oh my... it must be late! Your Exc... Ophelia, " she corrects herself with a smile, continuing: "I should leave you now. Was enough of a burden already. And Uncle might be worried." She drops down from the chair, fixing her vest and cloak above it.

 

Ophelia dips a small nod, her eyes lowering to her lap. "Give... my love to Jacob," she says, her fingers holding the entirety of her attention. She doesn't dare look up after a statement like that. Not without the risk of giving her secret away.

 

Sisay smiles and executes another manly bow. Of course she doesn't catch the meaning of your statement. Actually it sounds very... normal and as such she nods and says: "And please accept my love, on behalf of my uncle's." She turns around to leave the Contessa, but after a step she turns back for another look at her and whispers: "Thank you, for existing..." she then turns and walks away, confident that a generous servant would see her to the orni pad.