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Scelt is a Territory in turmoil and peace is tenuously held together by the Sceltic Queens. Rivalry between the Clans errupted into horror for the Territory that resulted in many dead, on both sides, and culimated in Clan Sheane being outlawed in the Territory. Further troubles plague the Territory in a variety of manners - Landen villages are raided, Courts are attacked, and no one seems to be safe.
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Author Topic: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone  (Read 1482 times)

Description: Desmond's father dies// Attn: Molly & Morgan, later Taryn

Offline Desmond Clery

  • Character Account
    • ss2bo
    • warlord
    • Role

      Clain Laird

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      Clan Clery

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      Scelt

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      Gavin

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    • Strength. Power. Family.

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You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« on: May 27, 17, 12:40:54 AM »
191 Early Winter- Wexol Naval Liaison’s Office
 
Desmond returned home from Dhemlan with renewed focus and a clarity of purpose. His meeting with Taryn Kerry, Queen of Denford, left him optimistic about Clan Clery’s future as leaders of Wexol District, and about Desmond’s own prospects as the eventual suitor and Consort for the young Queen. Desmond had also made a friend in Lord Adam Rhyne while in Athol and that friendship would serve him well in the long run. Now that he was back, he needed to meet with Dad and Drummond to outline their next steps in ascendance to not just allies of Clan Kerry, but as true family to the Clan.
 
Once Desmond could marry Taryn and put a babe in her belly, the bonds between both families would ensure that the Clerys remained Wexol’s first family for all time. They’d be on the same level as the Lyons, the Killians, or the Devlin’s and Desmond wanted that power and respect for his family’s name more than he wanted anything else in the world. Nolan, his father, had taught him the value of working to build his last name over his first.
 
Your first name is important, son, but it’s your clan name that people will remember long after you're gone.
 
He could only imagine the old man’s broad grin, nearly submerged beneath a fiery red beard, at hearing how well his meeting with Lady Kerry unfolded. Now that she remembered his name and seemed to like him, it wouldn’t be hard to secure an invite to compete for her hand. Of course, Desmond had no intention of making it a fair contest at all. There were still three other families who worked toward the same goal he was hurtling toward. If he couldn’t push them aside, Clan Clery would be left out in the cold.
 
He sat at his desk in the office, putting the final touches on the ‘thank-you’ letter to Taryn when the door to his office flew open. His younger sister, Brenna, stood staring at him in the doorway. Desmond looked up and smiled at her, but immediately he knew that something was wrong.
 
Des.” she said, her voice unsteady. She was breathing fast, too fast, and soon Desmond was out of his seat and covering the distance between them in a pair of long strides. Brenna kept saying his name, but no other words were forthcoming. Desmond put his hands on her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake some sense into her.
 
Brenna looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed from crying, cheeks streaked with tears. There’s bad news at behind those yes, Des. Better steel yourself.
 
Still, nothing prepared Desmond Clery for his sister’s message.
 
Come home, Desmond. It’s Dad.” Brenna said.
 
He knew what her next words would be before they left her mouth.
 
He’s gone.
 
 
 
--

One Week Later- Viewing Room inside the Clery Homestead.
 
 
The rest of the family was in the reception room. Whisky, wine, and ale flowed like water. Mourners and well-wishers packed the house like party-goers he coudln’t get rid of. Most of them were family, Clerys and O’Clerys, Dunhills, McClellans, and a few others. Some of them were the other families of Wexol, come to pay their respects to Nolan Clery, Warlord Prince and Clan Laird these last thirty years. A titan of a man who’d put his family at the front of all he did, teaching them to build the clan’s name before their own. Nolan was a mountain of a man that never tired of the things that made life worth living. Desmond said that and a bunch of other really warm and caring shit during the eulogy, but fuck if he could remember it all now.
 
He stood in the parlor with his father’s coffin, staring down at the final home of the man who’d taught him what being a man meant.
 
Now Nolan was gone and someone else had to stand up and lead the family.
 
I...I thought I had more time.” Desmond said aloud.
 
You...you were supposed be around at least another thirty years, old man. I had a lot more shit to get done before you went back to the Darkness and Mother Night. You were supposed to bounce your grandbabies on your knee and tell ‘em all those awful stories you loved so much.” Desmond said, forcing himself to breathe. His eyes stung, but he wasn’t going to cry anymore. Not now. Not when people were counting on him have his shit together and locked down.
 
Now you’ve left me here to take care of everyone and I don't even know where to start.” he whispered, laying his hand on the coffin’s oak lid. His black suit was still in good shape, despite the number of times he’d taken off and put on his coat today. Despite the number of female relatives who’d literally cried on his shoulder, his mother and sister chief among them.
 
I used to dream about takin’ your place, Dad. Now? Now I’d give it all back, plus every medal I ever earned, and everything I ever did it if it just...if it would just…
 
Desmond froze and fell silent. He heard voices and footsteps not far away.
 
It was time for him to get to work.


Offline Morgan Clery

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    • yellow2rose
    • bwprince
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      Black Widow Adept

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      Scelt

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      Bowie

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #1 on: May 29, 17, 05:48:19 PM »
It had been a fair voyage to find himself here to the capitol of Wexol, and his entire family had made the trip. He had hidden there on the island, protecting his little sister Brigid as best he could, who was nearly a woman now herself. She was dressed well enough that people truly noticed the gap of time since they'd last seen her sprouting whole. It was a similar look of surprise on some faces here just a few years prior for him when he seemed to over a summer go from a spindly little spider-boy to a shockingly handsome man who's body had rather filled out over a season of working the boats with his father. Brigid now was off with the parents who rested in the Reception room, while he had taken to wandering a bit, restless and strangely allured as always in the presence of death. He'd hoped to find Nolan's casket and have a moment of his own silence to ponder the titan of a man who had so defined the Clerys through Wexol.

The footfall was not the footfall he had created. Morgan had a creepy manner by which he always just seemed to be there. Listening in as he stood in the doorway, he was deeply sympathetic to the gutting words his older cousin offered the man in his casket. It was a mournful affair, and a much more metropolitan one than back in Morgan's little fishing village that he and his da had escaped to, trying to make their own fortune without just working for the opinionated and dominant force that was now in a box while his son mourned. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable with the display of emotion before him, he decided to remain just on the other side of that doorway, letting the man have a moment he was inadvertantly listening in on. The sentiments were potent, powerful, and deeply sentimental, and nothing he knew how to handle even remotely.

Giving him a moment, he heard voices and footfall behind himself, coming this way, and he slid into the room, knowing he'd be awkwardly caught standing there like a proper creep should he remain just lingering in the pass. A soft, pained smile - one that that spoke of the effort to make it as well as the sadness that made the moment - was offered to the man he considered uncle more than cousin. Kenneth was only seven when Desmond was born, marking uncle and nephew closer in age than brother and brother. Kenneth did not do well under the prestige and preferential power his brother had been given, and their family was raised separately from Nolan's. But not so separately that big to-dos and holidays and anniversaries with good years to them didn't seem them all making their trips to one another with a good frequency. So it pained Morgan to see his cousin so twisted over his father, and he had his own weird set of feelings for the man in the coffin that he was yet unsure how to properly connect them. He'd hoped for a moment of his own when he stumbled upon this one, and saw fit not to interrupt it, until the restless relatives they shared decided to do that for him.

"Hey, cuz," he offered, a nod of his head in greeting to accompany the awkward smile that had also meant to offer a bolstered confidence and an expression of familial care that the two disparately aged relatives held. Thirteen years his senior, he had only ever been the annoying brat that worried at Desmond's patience when they had met for most of Morgan's life. And then he became something to worry Desmond, because of his caste: because he was this strange Black Widow boy, something that became only a bigger possible blight on the Clerys when Brigid showed the same. They were a thing to explain away, defend, or blame, as the patriarch might prefer. The patriarchy which was now held firmly by the stoic man who had lost his stoicism before Morgan, to only Morgan's knowledge. A chink in the armor that the Widow actually found he deeply appreciated seeing.

"Everyone was hoping for a few words, and maybe to pay their respects, I suspect. I think they're waiting on you to do the words and the respecting," he suggested, a soft smile forming from that uncomfortable echo of one he had offered moments prior. "I think they're all waiting for their turn to earn your favor, too, should I be pretending to be Princely and offer my advice."

Moving forward, he'd make a bolder offer, of a touch on the broader man's shoulder, and a look of understanding at the horror of death. His arm hung a little wider than natural, a subtle way of inviting him should he need some strength clutched into him by way of a hug from his baby cousin.

Offline Desmond Clery

  • Character Account
    • ss2bo
    • warlord
    • Role

      Clain Laird

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      Clan Clery

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      Scelt

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      Gavin

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #2 on: May 29, 17, 09:56:05 PM »
His years in Dhemlan taught him the importance of casting his senses out every so often to avoid being caught unawares. Today, though, Desmond Clery couldn’t heed that advice. His father was dead, his family was hurting, and now he was expected to pick up and lead the family like his father had, to take them into a future he couldn’t even see. Hell, if he made it through the next five minutes without sobbing, he was already doing better than he imagined.
 
Morgan’s voice pulled Desmond from his reverie and his worries about the future. He turned, setting red-rimmed eyes on the young man before and returning the smile that Morgan offered. He still remembered when Morgan was a little boy, how curious and inquisitive he was about everything. It reminded him of Drummond, maybe because they were both Princes and higher in caste than Desmond himself. They needed to know how things worked, how they functioned, and how they could work better in the future. Desmond admired that in both of them.
 
But Morgan was also a Black Widow and Desmond had always felt pity about that.
 
Yes, he knew the stories about why Scelts hated Black Widows. His own musings, aided by the years he spent in Dhemlan interacting with Black Widows on more than one occasion, had forced him to question the deep-seated beliefs held by his people. In the end, Desmond recognized that the Sceltic prejudice against Black Widows was simply foolish. After all, two of the best people he knew were Black Widows and neither of them had chosen to be born that way. Persecuting people over something they hadn’t chosen was unfair. Distrusting Black Widows when they provided a wealth of useful services was just foolish. He’d tried to express this point, gently, to Taryn Kerry when they’d met a few months ago and Desmond suggested the use of weather witches to help with storm preparations.
 
She said she’d give the matter some thought.
 
Desmond wasn’t going to shun his cousin for who he was. If anything about Clan Clery was going to be different under him, that was the start.
 
Hey, coz.” Desmond said, clearing his throat as Morgan placed his hand on his shoulder. Desmond drew a bit of comfort, and a little more strength, from that gesture.
 
Yeah, everyone wants words.” he said, shrugging. “You ever feel like you’re just out of words? I mean, I’ll cobble some together that sound nice enough, but nothing I say is gonna bring him back.
 
Desmond accepted the hug from Morgan and used the moment to gather his wits and pull his mind together. If he was going to go out there and say anything else to the family, he had to believe it first and foremost. When the men parted, Desmond let Morgan step back and reclaim his personal space.
 
The people will get their words soon enough, Morgan. Right now, though, they’ll have to settle for free booze and a lot of food.” Desmond said.
 
How are you holding up right now? How’s Brigid?” Desmond asked him. Desmond didn’t want to pry into Morgan’s life too deeply, but it would be easy to make this moment about his own pain and sadness. Of the pair of them, Desmond was the lucky one. He’d never had to hide parts of himself, or have people make awkward excuses and apologies for him just because of his Castes or his behavior. Did anyone ever ask Morgan if he was okay?
 
More importantly, did anyone actually give a shit when they did ask?
 
Today, someone did.


Offline Morgan Clery

  • Character Account: Inactive
    • yellow2rose
    • bwprince
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      Black Widow Adept

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      Hourglass Coven

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      Scelt

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      Bowie

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #3 on: May 30, 17, 12:10:33 AM »
Morgan was going to answer how he was when Desmond asked how Brigid was, and his lips turned down slightly, eyes skitting aside for a moment in something like a practiced disappointment, because when he looked back, the mask was on and he was soft smiles again. The Prince had prepared to tell his cousin how he was; and the question instead clearly was how's the Black Widow thing going. And Brigid was the codeword for that sentiment all too often, a fortunate happenstance that allowed one to seem like they were just asking How's The Kids when it was anything but.

The Widow Prince reasonably chose to answer the man straight, on the question he meant to ask, and did not give him trouble for it. He had enough to handle without being admonished for some slight that really wasn't even one. He truly was concerned, and cared, Morgan knew, which was a damned sight finer than most. So when he asked, it was just the thousandth person to ask: and still one of the only who wasn't looking to examine them like strange mysterious creatures who deserved to be collared.

"We're alright, I suppose? Always feel a bit like the elephant in a room everyone's trying their damnedest not to point out. I prefer to think of us as the thorns people'd rather pretend weren't on a rose, though, a part of a lovelier whole," he allowed, not finishing the rest of his comparison for his older cousin, which was simply that they were a quirk of existence that Scelt will cut away to curate their bouquet. The man needn't worry overly, so he left it on the lovelier note.

"On the personal sides of things, well, Brigid's... alright. She takes death well since Deirdre, or well as can be expected. Much the same here. But what a damned loss this is all the same. For you, obviously, but... the man defined our branch and it's a hell of a hit. Hope Deirdre's waiting for him, to give him a hand in the Darkness to find his way through. She was always good about the guidance and love bit." A warm smile touched him, true and sweet, as he reflected on his own most palpable loss, the sister who died to save him and Brig.

"Once this is all done, I don't envy you the change of clothes and the gladhanding. Gonna be a real shitshow as you transition from shipwright to businessman, people lying about promises-- family, strangers, friends, everyone seeking the best of the upset. I assume Drummond'll help you through that mess?" he asked, hopeful.

If anything, his switch to business - and business both knew meant nothing to Morgan beyond the ephemeral of it being such a constant in the background of all their lives - was meant to put him at ease. Take his mind from the sadness of the mournfulness. Let him think on how his father ran things: make him think in terms of pride and warm memories, and less miss the absence.

Distraction worked wonders for Morgan, and he tried his best to be a peacable little shit now, a man well born to help guide people in thought and conversation. He was a shit counselor, as he was no Warlord Healer, but he did well enough in manipulation to hopefully dull the edges of the pain with something momentary and different.

Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #4 on: May 30, 17, 03:17:44 PM »
Desmond saw that brief look of disappointment in his cousin’s face before it vanished again. For a moment, he thought he’d done exactly what he hadn’t meant to do: pry. Despite their sharing of blood and a name, Desmond held no illusions that Morgan held him in a place of deep trust. After all, Nolan Clery had been as conservative on the notion of Black Widows as any man of Scelt, whereas Desmond saw things differently. Morgan and Brigid had been the sources of a couple of legendary rows between father and son, along with his old friend Molly. Nolan and Desmond were as close as father and son could be, but that had never stopped them from calling each other on their bullshit without reservation.
 
Desmond needed to earn Morgan’s trust and it would take time.
 
I apologize, man. I’m glad Brigid is okay. Forgive me for being awkward.” Desmond said, taking a deep breath and scratching the back of his head while he organized his thoughts. He’d meant to ask how Morgan was doing, but had then turned the discussion to his sister. Not his intent, but intent meant little to the person on the other side of the words.
 
I’m shit at really talking to people outside of military settings, man. Something I need to work on.” he said, taking a breath.
 
But really, how are you doing?” Desmond asked. This time, he waited for Morgan to voice as much, or as little, as he wanted to say about himself. When Morgan spoke, Desmond focused on him and tried to listen to what he didn’t say as much as what he voiced. He couldn’t read Morgan’s mind and he wouldn’t do it if he could. Desmond had heard, on more than one occasion, the mean-spirited nicknames people called Morgan. He could only imagine what Morgan really felt about the people around him at any given time.
 
Only when Morgan was done did Desmond speak again, taking issue with his words on roses and thorns. 
 
Hey, don’t say that. You and Brigid are Clerys and you’re part of this family. You always have been and you always will be. It probably doesn’t feel like it, with the way Black Widows get treated around here and how bad we’ve been at showing it.” Desmond said, acknowledging the prejudice that Morgan received. Even if Desmond believed it was wrong, he was still part of the same shitty system that let it run rampant.
 
You’re right about my dad’s loss being a hurt, but we’ll all heal. I do hope Deidre’s giving him hell, though. He needs someone to keep him on his toes.” Desmond said, chuckling just a little at the idea.
 
I’m glad you’re here, though. I just wish it didn’t take family reunions and deaths to get us all in the same place more often.
 
I want to change that, if and when you’re interested. But don’t feel like you have to. I just want to you to know.
” Desmond said, extending a hand for Morgan to shake if he wanted it. The political talk could hold for a moment while Desmond tried to speak to his cousin openly. There would be lots of glad-handing and high-level talks later on today. Right now, though, Desmond was reminded of the importance of family and how quickly they could disappear while one was off living life and making plans. He’d been working on plans instead of following his gut and going to see the old man.

Now he was gone and Desmond had to live with that choice and its consequences.
 
Rather than wallow in lost opportunities, maybe it was time to reach out to Morgan and strengthen those bonds. But it had to be Morgan’s choice to accept that bond, on his own terms.
 


Offline Morgan Clery

  • Character Account: Inactive
    • yellow2rose
    • bwprince
    • Role

      Black Widow Adept

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      Scelt

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      Bowie

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #5 on: May 31, 17, 08:59:00 AM »
The Warlord lived his caste well; they were gentle and intuitive, they cared. Princes might be good at manipulation, but they were not as sharply attuned to the care of those who needed it. It made him have real hope for the future with this family, with Desmond in charge of things, now. The Prince smiled for his cousin, and then tried to make himself look less affected by the man’s courtesy. So he laughed, a little, and patted his shoulder. “It’s forgiven. Everyone asks about the … Widow thing. You’re one of the only who asks without accusation hiding behind it. I didn’t mean to take any offense to it, I didn’t. We’re good, coz.”

Clearing his throat, he forced them past the awkwardness of sentimentality as best he could. “Days about you and your da, really. Thanks for asking after me and Brig, but let’s get to task. You got a bunch of circling vultures we call clan who need a gladhand and a copious amount of drinks so they’re less sharp with their talons, and family who need to know that Clery stands strong, and will only be stronger tomorrow. So let’s go get a drink of courage in you, polish up those shite words to set him to rest, and show how we celebrate life once we finish all this mourning.”

Morgan knew he wasn’t able to comment much on Desmond’s hopes to see him and Brig and his parents more (though they held as conservative of views as Nolan), because he knew damned well that he was just waiting for Brig to hit an age of majority enough to protect herself – and that the time was nearly overwhelmingly already here, based on how lovely and grown she looked all of a sudden. She was almost eighteen, and he’d need to find learning. So he didn’t want to lie to the man. “And no promises on reunions. I think I’m heading to the capitol, some day soon. There’s… only so much I can learn about me here in Wexol,” he admitted, sadly, frowning as if he disappointed the man, who he treasured the protection and guidance of so very much, even if he grew tired of needing the approval of either.

Gesturing them on, he led them towards the bar inside Desmond’s own home, intending to get him a touch of that liquid courage he’d mentioned. Morgan felt strange here, weirdly; he felt strange because he did not feel strange. This was family, and as much as most of them feared and hated him, they had known him and they stood by him – if some of them less ardently than Deirdre had done. They were the ones who understood their losses. He was used to feeling alone except Brigid, and it was odd to feel even a slight sense of belonging, even though they were just a few districts over in the province of Wexol, it was a world apart.

Offline Molly O'Kerry

  • Character Account: Inactive
    • ss2bo
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      Head of the Hourglass Coven

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      Scelt

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      Petrichor

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #6 on: Jun 03, 17, 03:19:53 AM »
Molly was a busy woman with little room for sentimentality in her ambitious heart. However, there were exceptions to all rules and the path she was on would’ve been impossible for her without Desmond Clery’s help. Funeral’s were often pointless rituals that lacked heart and served the living instead of the memory of the lost. Furthermore, they were more social event than solemn goodbye. When she grieved it was a private affair. Reticent as she was to attend the clan patriach’s wake Molly’d readied herself with grim determination to do right by an old friend. 
 
Traditions tied to the passing of loved ones were not for the dead at all, but those left behind. Knowing that didn’t make readying herself for an afternoon of suspicious stares and unkind whispers. The morning was made easier by Clark, who was much better suited to such events. Molly’s closest friend within the Coven had done everything from helping her dress for the task and giving her appropriate talking points when standard chit chat failed her.
 
There was a common misconception about the caste Lady O’Kerry carried with defiant pride. Among people, Scelts in particular, there was a belief that Black Widow’s were creatures of volatile emotion, rage, and enchanting bearing. While there was truth to the rumor it was but one face of a jewel with facets manifold. A witch fully trained in the Hourglass’ arts such as Molly could be a mystery unto herself. The Lady O’Kerry was that. What she wasn’t, outside of political arenas and debate floors, was particularly charming to those not used to her manner.
 
She possessed a level of passion and focus that many found unsettling. This was a fact of which she was intensely aware. Upon arriving at the Clery estate she’d hoped to find Desmond, quickly offer her condolences, make her exit, and be back home before the sun vanished behind the horizon. Yet at first he was nowhere to be found. The whispers began almost instantly; the clan held certain respect for Morgan and his sister destined for great power because of their bond of blood. They held no such reason to hold their prejudice at bay in the face of Molly’s pointed, black tipped nails and her psychic scent warning all of her gifts strange and sharp.
 
Thanks to Desmond serving as her patron when she received a place within Dhemlan’s prestigious academy many of the Warlord’s family knew of her. That didn’t mean they particularly approved of his generosity, or how she walked tall with her Blood Opal jewel of rank worn about her neck. Many Widows wore only their birthright jewel, or none at all, in an effort to lessen the threat they posed to the wary about them. Molly O’Kerry made herself smaller for no one. In a world that told her to be ashamed she wore her truth like a dare to those who’d suggest she be anything but her best.
 
After exhausting uncomfortable pleasantries with faces she recognized Molly found herself at a table piled high with food and drink. There she busied herself with the business of making tea. Focused on the calming familiarity of the preparation instead of worrying about the eyes boring gazes ranging the spectrum from curious to hostile into her back she managed to find a measure of calm.
 
Air thick with grief and the stormy cocktail of emotions bound tight with loss left Molly dizzy and, when it was finished, grateful for the hot grounding cup of peppermint tea. With it in her grasp she turned away from the table quickly growing crowded with mourners seeking to quiet death’s ache with gluttony’s pleasure. Her intent was to find a quiet room meant to hold the overflow of company from the main room and find Desmond after having some time to get accustomed to the overwhelming environment. A Widow was always assaulted with a house’s secrets her first time through it’s doors. Molly had the training required to keep the minds of others and the memories in wood, stone and cloth at bay but Death made things difficult.
 
For the Blood death was something more than just an end and in the ripples of its recent passing, everything was sharper and more persistent on Molly’s senses.
 
Perhaps it was because of this greater than usual load on her senses that the witch nearly bumped into Desmond and Morgan, the latter whom she remembered as a frightened boy. She only recognized him because of his unmistakable scent. “Oh, oh shit,” she murmured with a self depreciating laugh as she looked between the pair. “Lord Clery. I was just coming to look for you. Apologies for just about doing it too well.” 
 
Stepping back as she spoke Molly took in the measure of the handsome pair and realized it’d been foolish of her not to expect Prince Clery to be there for his family. She offered him a pleasant nod as she came to regret the cup of tea warming her hands from winter’s chill so nicely. While she spoke towards the man who, until moments before, she’d still been picturing as a boy during the years which she’d been tutoring him via correspondence. “Morgan, it’s been too long. I’m sorry this is what’s brought us together after so many years. That goes for you as well, Desmond.”
 
At that she looked between them and felt a pang of regret at not bringing Clark for support as she hid behind a sip of her tea and floundered for what to say next. Her strongest ally within the coven, her sibling of the soul, always knew what to say to make people feel better or at the very least understood.
hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Desmond Clery

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    • ss2bo
    • warlord
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      Clain Laird

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      Clan Clery

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      Scelt

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      Gavin

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #7 on: Jun 03, 17, 01:21:08 PM »
Morgan forgave the slight and moved forward, giving Desmond permission to do the same. Time would deepen their relationship, strengthen it, but right now, Desmond had what he wanted. Morgan was keeping relations open. He ran his hand through his hair and laughed a little as Morgan outlined what came next. Everything he said was true: they had family and the other clans out there looking to be plied for their favor or convinced to submit to the Clery’s rule over Wexol District. The death of the Sheanes opened a power vacuum that the other clan lairs would exploit if Desmond didn’t hit the ground running and get on top of his personal shit. He could cry later, when he was alone.
 
Damn straight, coz. Let’s get that drink. Before you leave tonight, I want to get your opinion on something, but it can hold.” the Warlord said, steeling himself for what was to come. He needed to project strength and confidence. Intelligence. His plans for Taryn Kerry, for Wexol, and for Denford as a whole demanded it. He took a deep breath, released it, and then nodded to Morgan that they should head out.
 
Then Molly walked in.
 
Was it possible that a young woman could grow more beautiful each time a man saw her? Desmond saw Molly as positive proof. Her greeting earned a smirk from Desmond, which blossomed into a full-blown grin by the time the young woman stammered out her full, more Protocol-appropriate greeting. He remembered her as an awkward young woman who scared a lot of people, much the same way that Morgan had done for other members of the family. Molly wasn’t blood, but Desmond didn’t care.
 
She was, for him.
 
Desmond would approach and take Molly’s hand, kissing it gently, out of respect for her station. They shared the same standing in the Abyss on both levels, but Desmond showed respect to her higher caste. He did not try to embrace her, remembering some of her discomfort with men. If she wanted to hug him, he’d leave that decision to her. He stepped back and let her and Morgan speak, with the pair having a bit more in common through their own shared castes.
 
I’m glad you came, Molly. Really, I am. We were just about to head back to the main area and start the politics portion of the evening along with the eulogy.” Desmond said.
 
Is everything all right with you?” he asked the young woman, knowing that she, like Morgan, had ignored a number of instincts to come and support him in this dark hour.


Offline Morgan Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #8 on: Jun 03, 17, 11:13:46 PM »
Morgan agreed with a simple nod and a tutted sound that nearly made a 'yeah' noise assuring complicity, that assured Desmond he'd provide him the counsel he asked for. Prince was not the most common Caste, after-all, and the only other one so closely related to him now was Drummond, who was questionably more traditional in his viewpoints. It made fine sense he'd yearn for Morgan's thoughts on a matter, and he began to wonder what it might be as they walked, the suspense and intrigue giving him something to look forward to amongst this mess.

And then they went to find their drink, and Desmond's courage. It was there an old friend they shared was found.

The cousins were starkly different except in some very explicit ways. Their love of family was paramount, and loyalty to the same was absolute. They both yearned for a better, more just world, though only one of them was any good at hewing to his morals. The men shared the Clery men's hair, of course. But right now, the wicked Prince and his stalwart Warlord cousin had another striking commonality: they both had a sharp moment as they came to a stop, upon sight of Molly at the refreshment table where the men had moved to get their drink.

The widow was absolutely stunning. She had the same exact youthful face he remembered from when she was a teenager that Desmond had rescued from herself, the favor traded to see her give aid to Morgan. But she had... grown, in other ways. It struck him then how lovely she was, and struck him even sharper now. For a moment, he felt the sweet boy in him he once was, and awkward in its wake.

For another moment, he felt a schism as two sides strained for action. There was a darkness that hungered, appetites recognizing themselves in her. But Desmond spoke at his side, and he was brought back, knowing he needed to show his solidarity in this trying time. It was a strange junction, as two pieces of him warred. It was the same sort of good battle he felt when Brigid was about, her very existence urging him to give into his angels and not his demons.

Instead, it was just Desmond. Only his loyalty and the gravity of the moment allowed him to temper every urge in him to see if she still saw him as that little ten year old boy she helped with draining his snake's tooth, an act beyond painful for how badly treated it had been. That instinct was wholly crushed, as best he could, but the air of tension might still seep from his psychic scent, however, he hoped his relatively light jewels might not make it strong enough for either of their darker bastions to even recognize, when he did his best to silence it. Still there remained no accepted syncretism in the man, who's warring sides rested at odds, taking their equal turns. Now he was not the Widow, or so he told himself, and instead presented just that Prince.

A smile passed his lips as he became the socializing master of the caste he was meant to be: the caste he was proud to bear, here, ironically, given who he was trying to be affable for here. He would be the Prince when that smile bloomed, and he moved forward to clap her on the shoulder, considering her hands to be full with her tea-steeping's hands and their warmed occupation.

"A proper madness to see you again. Been too long, Lady O'Kerry. Shame all these reunions take death to be brought about, as my coz here was lamenting just a single breath before."

Glancing to Desmond, then back to Molly, he kept himself into a nice triangle with the other two, distance equal, as he tried his best to ascertain the unique relationship that must be here. In all the years of correspondence and advice, he'd somehow almost forgotten Desmond was the one who arranged her coming down to help teach him as a boy about the most basic tasks important to a Widow that he'd need to know. Lessons he in turn passed on to Brigid, plus more he practiced and studied by book and correspondence with Molly. And in a moment to follow, he wondered if Desmond knew they continued their studies by letter.

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #9 on: Jun 04, 17, 01:39:47 AM »
Molly barely made it through her greeting before the weight of the wake’s grief was overwhelmed by a crashing wave of desire not her room. Everything but the living hunger stirring Prince Cleary’s being was drowned in its passing. The force of its focus caused a bright flush to creep over the serious witch of grand ambition as Desmond showed deference to her caste.

Please, Desmond,” she cleared her throat, “You’re a huge part of the reason I’m getting where Mother Night wants me to be.” Though a strangely formally sentence, the girl born to carry Prophecy’s bruden’s always spoke of her vision and purpose as sacred duty. She was a person of faith deep, complex and personal. Going on with a smile Molly addressed the cousins with a confidence much different from the girl they’d met years before.

Your point is taken, I’ll leave formality to the courts.” While not particularly comfortable in crowds Lady O’Kerry was a politician accustomed to camouflaging her own reactions.

Her shock at the surge of lust born from Morgan’s dual casted want and struggle the witch concealed in the humble manner she assumed as a sign of gratitude and respect about Desmond. The man was more family to her than either of the parents she saw only for the occasional holiday, and funeral. It was a small favor for her that so many O’Kerry’s disapproved of Lord Clery’s charity towards their family’s embarrassment. With what plans she had nearing their fruition she doubted that animosity would lessen when she came to take leadership of Scelt’s coven.  When he stepped back she forced her thoughts away from tomorrow’s work to focus on the moment’s matters. She owed it to Des, she always would owe him.

Never was Molly as grateful for the soothing warmth of a proper cup of tea as when Morgan, a handsome man much different from the boy she remembered, treated her her to a blazing smile and drew nearer than felt proper. The Black Widow was very aware that everything passing between them was expected between old friends. It just  felt illicit somehow knowing what she did about Prince Clery’s response to her presence. She reminded herself that Morgan lacked the type of training she and those of her caste with whom she’d studied in Dhemlan practiced regularly for years.

Resolving to work better on blocking out the shifting emotions of others unless the information was wanted Molly accepted the friendly clap on the shoulder with a nod of appreciation into a second sip of tea. She could feel the duality of his being shifting in the air and beneath the charm still that thread of need. A pang of pride at how well he composed and controlled himself after little formal, personal training soothed what nerves his instinctual response had ruffled. Pulling subtly on her jewel of rank she reinforced the barriers about her senses and felt relief as the din of the mourning ceremonies many high emotions moved further away from her immediate notice.

I’m fine with Molly if you’re fine with Morgan,” she returned his greeting with warmth and respect for the years of friendship built through correspondence. Dhemlan was a lonely place for a girl to stand out. If Desmond wasn’t aware that a relationship continued between the youthful pair that, unlikely as it was, shared a caste he would be after seeing his cousin greeted with such familiarity. “Now lets not make it all so morose boys. We’re a busy lot with plenty on our plates but I’ve more than a feeling we’ll all be seeing quite a bit more of each other.

Though light in tone Molly spoke truth pulled from her dreams and webs of her future. There was plenty omens in her seeings fey in nature but it was a day for honor and passing, not for the spilling of portents like rain from the heavens. Both men’s faces featured heavily in almost every possibility towards success she divined. “Let’s get to the work of it then though you lot’ll have to lead the way. Only found the drinks 'cause everything smelled so good.” 
hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #10 on: Jun 04, 17, 09:51:52 PM »
Desmond was the type of man who paid attention to body language, to psychic scents, to shifts in mood in order to judge the people around him. People gave away all kinds of information through their body’s motions and actions without meaning to, and Desmond used those clues to navigate his interactions with people, to figure out how best to guide them where he wanted to go. The irony of the matter before him was that, in having two Black Widows in the room with him, one also a Prince, Desmond wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone this time around. He was just glad to see them both here in the same place.
 
Of course, a couple of things became very apparent when Molly arrived.

Morgan liked Molly. He’d made the introduction, years ago, to get Morgan the help he needed to take care of the issue with his snaketooth. While Desmond had hoped that Morgan and Molly might keep in touch over the years, he couldn’t ask either one without prying into business that wasn’t his. The sheer awkwardness of those conversations was prohibitive, so Desmond merely assumed that they’d helped each other and left it at that. Black Widows were still Black Widows and there was a lot of stuff they probably didn’t tell outsiders.
 
Desmond recognized now, standing between them, that he was the outsider in this room. He suddenly felt a little out of place. The only cure was Dhemlanese rum. The spelled kind that stomped a mud-hole in you and walked it dry.
 
Morgan got it under control and Molly didn’t seem angry or offended, so Desmond relaxed a little. Maybe, if he didn’t screw it up, Desmond figured that he could leave these two young people a better Scelt than his own family left him.
 
Yeah, let’s get up there and get this out of the way. But before you leave Molly, I need to talk to you, too. Nothing bad. I just need some advice about a problem.” Desmond said, grinning at her.
 
With that, Desmond would lead the pair back to the main level of the house.
 
They drank. Desmond spoke about his father beautifully, better than he ever expected that he could. There was food, family, and booze to be had. The somber funeral turned into a rousing wake and celebration of Nolan’s life with the people who’d loved him (and loathed him) best. Moirin, Desmond’s mother, bowed out early to go home and grieve properly. Brenna, Desmond’s youngest sister, went with her to make sure that she wasn’t alone.

Drummond, for his part, also bowed out early, preferring to drown his sorrows working in the business their father built instead of staying for the party.

Desmond shook hands. He talked to people. He gladhanded and quietly explained to a few people their options for getting along with Clan Clery in the future.
 
Some time, late in the evening, Desmond could be found cleaning up plates, cups, and discarded food, trying to get his home back into shape.


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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #11 on: Jun 04, 17, 11:25:52 PM »
The lot of them had made their greetings, some of it more awkward than others, and at Molly's suggestion they took their drinks - Desmond needing it more than any, but Morgan not letting him drink alone - and then Desmond said his prettiest words shortly after. It was a hell of a thing, and a bore, at turns, but the ritual was important during all of it.

It had been a long, sometimes tedious, sometimes celebratory, often enough morose, affair. Awkward conversations and bitter snipes had left him to wander outside on occasion to take in fresh air and clear his mind of the bullshit that transpired within. The sights outside, of the short grass and the distinct hummock on the distant coast, and the water's sound rushing against its edges, it brought him back to peace. The sea always did; though not nearly the mariner his cousin was, Morgan's whole life was on the coasts of Wexol. Admittedly, not this coast precisely, but the smells and sounds of sea, as well unfortunately as that of fish, told him he was Home and he was Safe. Even though, as his sister Deirdre proved, those feelings of safety were not so absolute as they should be.

That retreat and reprieve helped him many times from stabbing one of his own family members or their extended 'friends' of the family who in truth were here to assess the strength of Clan Clery. It was a spectacle of its own, even if it should've been a properly familial affair remembering a great man and dulling the edges where he was less great in the retellings. It was also that, but only 'also'. Brigid got a slight bit less heat than Morgan did, who's maleness made the spectacle of his hated Caste that much sharper, and he was happy to take the heat for her.

A few times, Morgan spoke to Molly. Some of it catching up, some of it more idle, but the Prince did try his best to exercise control in all methods of their interaction. The presence inside of family certainly helped a great deal to this task, especially taking care of his little sister. She and the family went along ahead, and he tasked Brigid with safeguarding their littlest brother, because he knew his cousin wanted some words.

Walking back in from saying goodbye to the fam, he saw Desmond finishing tidying dishes into the kitchen. He took the opportunity to interrupt him, and volunteer himself to wash dishes, grabbing a load Desmond just set down and taking them towards the sink. "I'll wash, us fishermen have a lot more experience with cleaning up messes," he urged the man. "You dry. Your boats never look like they've seen a splash of water, so should be your specialty as well," he teased ruthlessly, tossing the man a dishtowel as he slid his sleeves up to set to task.

He'd wanted words, so he'd provide him a nice environment for it, the methodology needed in cleaning providing a good task with hands to keep a Warlord feeling informal and safe, while letting Morgan stop up some of his brewing schisms by giving himself a point to focus on.

"Say, you and Molly. That a thing? Should be, if it isn't. Girl worships you, I get the sense," he suggested, helpfully. "Age's not but a series of numbers," he added, guessing them about a decade apart between Desmond and the Opal Widow. "The matching jewels're cute, what's more. Really makes choosing colors for the house a pleasantly easy experience."

The Prince, more than anything else, smirked playfully as he hoped to keep the man comfortable, giving him a little pleasant drama to ease his mind off of the weight of responsibility and the sadness of his father being laid to rest just this very day. "Oh, and what'd you want to talk about?" he quizzed his cousin, glancing about to see whether they had company approaching as he kept to the task.

Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #12 on: Jun 05, 17, 12:20:45 AM »
Desmond caught the drying towel, glad to have some company that wasn’t utterly drunk or overstaying their welcome. He was glad that Morgan remembered that they needed to talk. Besides getting another moment to talk to him before he left, Desmond really wanted the advice that he could provide. Morgan’s life experience was different from Desmond’s, so different from that of most Scelt men that Desmond wanted that perspective to be among the ones that drove his rule over the family for the time being.
 
Of course, Morgan’s first question caught him so off-guard that all Desmond could do was stare at him for a moment.
 
Molly? You mean, is there anything between Molly and--oh no, Morgan. No, man. There isn’t.” Desmond said, smiling a bit at the thought. It was a nice thought, yes, but Desmond had decided early on that he’d never take advantage of Molly that wayt. Besides, she was nearly ten years his junior and he’d never seen her express interest in any man, most especially not him.
 
You’re kind to think of it, man, but no. Molly is a beautiful woman. She’s a good friend and a lovely soul. But she’s not my beautiful, good, lovely soul. Does that make sense?” Desmond asked.

"She's going to make the right person happy someday. That person just isn't this old sea-bag full of doorknobs." he said, laughing aloud.

His tone sobered, though, as he remembered how he and Molly met.
 
Her parents wanted to lock her in a basement and forget she existed when they learned that she was a Black Widow. They were really going to hurt her. I’d just come home from the Naval Academy in Dhemlan.” Desmond said, accepting dishes to dry as Morgan passed them over.
 
I brought her home and suggested to Dad that he take her in until her parents got their shit together. Nolan didn’t want to get involved. He and I nearly came to blows over it. Drummond had to intervene. At the end of the day, he begrudgingly helped out. I made it a point to look out for her after that.” Desmond said.
 
He wanted to stay out of it with you and Brigid, too. That row was even worse than the first. We didn’t speak for six months after that one.” Desmond said. In light of recent events, Desmond was glad that he and his father had reconciled.
 
Anyway, Molly is on to her big dreams, man. And I met someone recently that I think I could like. It was Nolan’s idea, of course, but she’s turned out to be a decent person so far.” Desmond said.
 
He looked back to Morgan.
 
Since I’m supposed to be leading the family now, I wanted the advice of a Black Widow Prince on my first steps. You and Brigid have a voice in this family, too, and I’ll always do my best to hear you out. The Province Queen, Lady Kerry, gave me permission to start forming a Court in order to tend Wexol’s business now that the Sheanes are gone.” Desmond said.
 
We need to look for a Queen while we’re at it, and Lady Kerry has to sign off when we find one, but the Clerys have a chance to show our quality. Have you thought about your future plans, Morgan?” Desmond asked.
 
Do you think serving in a Court is something that could interest you in the future?


Offline Morgan Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #13 on: Jun 05, 17, 01:00:50 AM »
The Prince in him looked impressed with Nolan. He'd suspected from watching him tonight he was angling for much more than just secured business, but the man more or less came out with the statement of his plan to gain dominion as a District Ruler of Wexol. Quite the angle, and he respected it. Would be a good bit of prestige for the Clan, and he made it further clear he wanted more Clery's in it: an ask that could not be given, which left him frowning pensively before he gave the reasoned response he owed his cousin.

"I'm a half-decent Prince, I imagine, though untested. Sure, I've helped da's little fishing empire do far better than Nolan's naysaying bul-...luster could've expected," he smiled, at himself catching the word as he spoke it to avoid speaking ill of the dead who had yet to even get settled in that grave of his. Wouldn't do well, so he caught himself short and was a little mirthful at being certain he'd been caught.

"But I'm the world's most shite Black Widow. Brig's almost of age to do well as an adult," he understated the truth, her having blossomed painfully enough to frighten Morgan for what men like him might just do to her, and knowing it wasn't his place to decide that for much longer. "In the future, yeah, I'd like that. But I think I need to figure this out - take Brig and me to somewhere with formal training. Learn up whether if in this hypothetical courta yours I'm a Seer, a Head of a Coven, or I'm a Steward. Or some mix of them. I might seem like I've matured quickly, but I'm still learning the man I want to be."

Frowning over to his cousin, he felt a pang of guilt at telling him no in this instance. "I'd give anything to say yes. Can we call it 'Yes, but later'?"

He also didn't want to tell his cousin the truth; Wexol has been all he's known. He'd like to at least see fecking Denford in its whole before he retired his life to it. Even that left unsaid, the truth was mostly in what he'd told him: he needed to get proper training, more than mail correspondence with Molly. He had no doubt the swards of Denford's other coasts would doubtlessly run just as lush and green, and for the most part that'd be the same everywhere here in Scelt, but there was a certain man he was in Wexol. And he wanted to find out if he could be something else, less constrained by who he's supposed to be here, when he found a new patch of grass upon which to stand.

Even if it left him disappointing Desmond, a man he'd direly rather not disappoint. So he turned to the talk of Queens. "What even are your good options? I suppose there's that ward of Lore's, Eirne's old pupil, Coira. She should be about of an age - and she's a Black Widow what's more, should you wish to really show some kind of mended fences by bringing back in a Sheane. Also... what, 18, 19 now, like Brig?" he asked, considering things out of hand as he washed.

"You'd have a hell of a time with the other branch of Sheanes, but, hey, Niamh's single, last I heard. She's only married to raiding and killing, and probably the one responsible for Deirdre, but..." he continued his joking appraisal, thinking on the Queens he knew of that called Denford home.

"Would Taryn approve of Taryn?" he teased, smirking to Desmond, having also rather run out of ideas, lest he start suggesting stealing away the likes of Blodwen, which would be jumping a Province entire and likely rip Desmond from the entire reason for his efforts. "Feck, the Darkness really likes that Queen rhymes with Sheane, doesn't it?"

Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #14 on: Jun 07, 17, 12:25:46 AM »
Desmond nodded when Morgan asked if they could put a pin in the idea of Court service for him at a later date. He was glad, at least, that Morgan hadn’t dismissed the idea out of hand. The Prince knew his own mind and he understood his own personal strengths and weaknesses. A lesser man might have thrown out a hasty yes or felt pressured to say yes to spare Desmond’s feelings. But he never wanted to pressure Morgan or make him feel forced.
 
You take all the time you need, coz. I just want you to know that when you’re ready, there’ll be a place for you, if you want it.” Desmond said, glad that they hashed that out ahead of time. He didn’t want to let Morgan leave without knowing a little bit about where he saw his life going.
 
The talked turned to Queens just then, and Desmond smiled a little when he thought of Taryn.
 
I don’t know most of the Ladies that you named, though I’m not sure any of would even accept, if I did. And right now, I’d like to have as little to do with the Territory Court as possible. That whole business with the Sheanes stinks. Da was always able to get along with them. Now that they’re gone, Wexol’s seen some issues. I’m worried that they’ll show up someday and try to take the place back by force.” Desmond said.
 
Niamh seems the most likely candidate for it, being called the Outlaw Queen, and all. I heard old Davos is still out there somewhere, too. And he wore the Red. But saying ‘Queen Sheane’ was always a pain in the ass to say at parties.” Desmond said.
 
He asked if Taryn would approve of Taryn and Desmond grinned, drying another dish.
 
Nolan heard something from the Province Court recently. Seems that Lady Taryn is looking for a husband. She’s reached out to the biggest clans here in Denford. The Kinniards, the Gowans, and us, the Clerys may be looking at a bit of a competition to wed the Province Queen.” he said.
 
She seems like a good woman. I don’t know if she’s Molly-level great, but she’s nice. I met her a little while back and we talked for a bit. She was actually the one that gave me the go-ahead to start working on this Court.” Desmond said.
 
If I could convince her that I’m the right man, it would bind our families closer together. Then there could be some real progress made at making Denford better for everyone.” he said.


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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #15 on: Jun 20, 17, 11:47:05 PM »
There was nothing quite like a wake to bring out the strangest, strongest emotions in a group. While waiting for a moment to speak with Desmond Lady O’Kerry fled to a well-loved patch of garden. However, she wasn’t the only mourner who’d found the house proper more full than comfortable. Soon the cocktail of grief and joy that came in Death’s passing spilled out into the spaces where she’d taken sanctuary. After finding only frustration in her search for a measure of peace in the chaos the witch turned her sights outward.

Molly wanted  to flee the psychic din and its crowd for her cottage, her tea, and her blessed bed. However Desmond’s desire to have a word kept her bound by the honor of debt to hear him out. Logic and experience with the lengthy affair that was the passing of a Laird let the witch know she’d have plenty of time before Lord Clery had any for her. Patience, not a natural virtue of hers, was a thing Molly was willing to practice for the Warlord to whom she owed her education.

If asked who her closest friend was, Lady O’Kerry would answer Clark. Asked about her best? The answer was Desmond. He’d saved her from a fate she was determined to spare Scelt’s future Black Widows. Lending him an ear on the eve he buried his father fell well within their friendship’s boundaries and the size of her guilt. The island they all loved wasn’t forgiving to those who stood with outcasts. Desmond was the kind sort of idiot who’d do it again and again. Her heart clenched when she thought about the target on his back now that he was a Laird courting a Queen with a mind to make things better. Black Widows learn far too well much too young that the world is not kind to those who want to see it changed.

The land about the estate was safe enough that she forsaked her shields to best feel the breeze. Molly adored the night and never held much love for the unyielding day. The jealous sun made everything too hot and burned her up leaving her crispy and freckled in its wake. Worst of all?  It hid the warnings of sweeter stars. Of course so did clouds and there were many high above that night blocking her favorite focus for divination. The air was thick and charged with the promise of a storm.

Tasting rain’s coming in the air Molly walked back towards the estate determined to find Desmond, hear his business, and make her wish for bed a reality. As she closed the door behind her she heard a clap of thunder in the distance. A gentle rain followed moments after. Molly got a chuckle from the sudden flood of tipsy garden mourners that rushed in with its falling. She took care to move quickly as the house once more became too full of life in defiance of death.

To the kitchen she made her way. There she sensed the two men with which she had far more in common than was comfortable.  It was courteous of them to be in the same spot. She’d hear Desmond’s thoughts, discuss matters of the Hourglass with Morgan and be on her way home before the storm could finish passing. Later she’d briefly consider the curious mixture of relief and disappointment she felt at not having to say her goodbyes to Prince Clery alone. He wasn’t the boy she’d remembered, or a boy at all.

When she entered, it was with a knock of courtesy and clearing of her throat as she came upon them tidying.  Most of the men she attended Dhemlan’s Academy with would never have stepped foot inside a kitchen let alone washed a dish. “Hey now, just the men I was looking for,” Molly spoke with a grin as she closed the space between her and the cousins in a few strides.  She found a space of counter their diligent work had cleared and made herself a seat of it.  Her legs swung, gently, as she watched them work.

I’ve got to be getting home soon but I didn’t want to vanish into the wind without saying my byes.”  Her gaze passed from Desmond, to Morgan and then a comfortable place between their busy hands suggesting it wasn’t just Lord Clery’s request for an audience that had brought Molly back. Aside from the inevitable attraction experienced between an attractive pair that shared the gifts of the Hourglass? Morgan and Brigid's educations, safety, and allegiances needed to be sorted. Flustered as she'd been by the heat of the Black Widow Prince's attentions it was largely for want of a better future for those in Scelt like them that held her interest.

Neither of you would’ve happened to see if any of that cake made it back here to be stored and put away like, hrm?” Lady O’Kerry, for all her fancy boarding school upbringing, was very much a girl from the Isle who’d say she was heading out in the same breath she asked for a snack.
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Offline Morgan Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #16 on: Jun 21, 17, 08:48:13 AM »
Desmond assured him to grant him all the time in the world, and he breathed a sigh of relief, as if he had been genuinely worried he was missing his shot. There was too much uncontrolled in him to trust himself in such a role, not yet, and he wanted that before he dishonored Desmond by accepting such an offer and the consequential failures that would follow him into such a poorly conceived notion.

The topic of Desmond's prospects were more entertaining to discuss, besides. When Desmond seemed to shine to the idea of Niamh, though, Morgan gave him a very queer look; she was, after-all, one of the absolute worst that the Sheane had ever birthed. By his way of thinking, many of the Sheane did not deserve the purge they got, but she sure as hell did, and somehow missed it. The rebel Queen was a rebel for a cause that would see him likely as not dead. Hoping it was a joke, he did not press beyond the look of total bafflement, and let it slide its way on. The news of Taryn got him back to mirth, quickly enough, smirking.

Lady Taryn was looking for a husband. And if it was Clerys, Kinnairds, or Gowans, he was rather certain that the choice would very easily fall to the new Laird. The others were fine and well, but they had few prospects ready for such an upset. Though Morgan withheld his worries that such a marriage would do better for Denford than it would for Wexol, and it'd leave him more the Queen's Man then him bringing a Queen to the Clerys.

"Could be quite the catch for you, and for the esteem of the family," he conceded, smirk along well enough for the journey. "I've learned there is nothing more compelling as an argument for your rightness as her man than a mad series of  orgasms, so I advise just getting in there and beginning the work to be your charming self."

He winked, and then heard a knock on the wall and a cleared throat, and wondered how much of that she heard, a wicked little smile on his lips as he turned to face the Widow who had been so instrumental to him, who had spent far too long without seeing her anew.

An absence of time he seemed to plan to repeat at least a touch. "Well, goodbye, then," he teased, speaking nothing of cake. "I'll leave you both to your business, actually. It's a bit of a trip back to where we're holing up, and I don't envy Brigid contending with drunk parents for overlong."

Clapping Desmond on the back for a moment, he paused, then moved in to give him a firm hug. Stepping free of the embrace, he turned to Molly and hesitated. Stepping to her, his eyes trailed her features, finding her eyes with his, and he considered a thousand things he'd really very much like to say.

He chose restraint. "We can arrange any further business of ours by writing, Lady O'Kerry," he promised, knowing she likely had words left to say. Morgan was not in bad spirits; but he knew that the Laird's words might not serve best with extra ears, and he knew he would be too tempted in her company to behave poorly. He extended a hand for her to clasp, and would put both hands over her one in a very attentive exchange, fingers clenching hers with more meaning and tenderness than he'd like to express with his cousin feet away.

"Help him with the wash. He's rubbish with actual water, only good at building boats in dry dock," he vowed, deceitfully, and then stepped past her, moving for his coat and then the door.

Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #17 on: Jun 29, 17, 01:18:47 AM »
Desmond burst into laughter as Morgan explained how to distinguish himself in Taryn’s eyes. It was funny, especially, because Desmond’s thoughts had traveled along similar lines regarding the Queen of Clan Kerry. The easy camaraderie and discussion between the Clery men allowed Desmond to process his grief regarding his father better, even as the old sailor wished that discussions between himself, Nolan, and Drummond were this light. Sadly, Nolan had a habit of getting right into business whenever his sons were in the same room with him and Desmond could recall, in that moment, very few times when their discussions didn’t concern the best ways to improve the family’s standing.

Molly’s appearance drew a smile from Desmond and, briefly, he thought back on Morgan’s earlier query. Would he have noticed if Molly ever showed interest in him? She’d grown from a pretty girl into a beautiful young woman right before Desmond’s eyes. Desmond had never wanted to take advantage of that friendship for carnal pleasures, believing, probably rightly, that Molly needed someone who understood her. No matter how much she respected him for being there for her, that didn’t necessarily translate into anything beyond deep friendship.

Of course, none of that seemed to matter when Molly and Morgan ended up in the same room.

His cousin’s reaction to Molly wasn’t a primal as it was earlier, but Desmond definitely read a deeper subtext between the two Black Widows. Was it like this every time to Black Widows met each other? He had no frame of reference and no real idea. Desmond was glad, however, that both of them knew someone that they could relate to. Once more, he felt like he was intruding on a private moment, despite being in his own house.

Then Morgan was talking about leaving and he moved to hug Desmond. Desmond returned the hug fiercely, thanking Morgan for coming out. “I’d like to have lunch in the next week or so, man. I meant what I said. I miss you all.” Desmond said gently.

Then the embrace was over and Desmond stepped back to let Molly and Morgan say their goodbyes. He busied himself with a dish while they talked. Of course, he made a face when Morgan made his comment about the dishes.

Smart ass.” Desmond grumbled, but there was no heat in it. In fact, there was more a laugh than anything at his cousin’s wit.

Once he’d taken his leave, though, that left Desmond alone with Molly and a number of conflicting feelings.

Speakin’ of, there some cake left. You’re welcome to it, of course.” Desmond said, pointing at a nearby cooler where Molly could find the cake.

There was silence for a moment while Desmond figured out what he wanted to say.

So, it seems that you and Morgan get along pretty well.” Desmond said, his smile just a little too big and bright.

Was he hoping they were a match? Or did it bother him? If it was hard to tell, that was because it was hard for Desmond to answer that question for himself.


Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #18 on: Jul 12, 17, 02:05:47 AM »
Attraction was a dizzying and awful curse Molly’s caste was forced to endure. She felt that double edged blade cut at her pride as she found her pride wounded by Morgan’s quick exit. It was a strange thing to go from needing to escape waves of desire to being seen off like a common acquaintance. The Black Widow told herself that it was a fair response on the part of the strangely gifted Prince Clery. Had she not been cool and made clear her mind was too focused for such frivolous carnality? Not having wanted, or expected, it in the first place the male Widow’s restraint of desire shouldn’t have been disappointing.

All this minor turmoil she covered in a manner that would easily fly under the radar of a man like Desmond. The newly seated Laird, for all his education, was not trained in restraint and protection of one’s heart like a witch raised in one of the most cutthroat boarding school’s Dhemlan’s esteemed Academy had to offer.  Hiding it didn’t keep her from feeling it but her pride appreciated being spared the room knowing she’d experienced girlish disappointment at the lack of a man’s focused attention. 

Goodbye’s shared and left alone with the man she often wove webs of future’s telling for Molly hopped down from her seat and made way towards the leftover treat that, as she liked it, was more icing than cake. Her back was thankfully turned to Desmond as she went to cut herself a slice of cake and he commented upon the palpable “closeness,” between her and the Rose Jeweled Black Widow Prince. “We’ve been exchanging correspondence on the arts of the Hourglass for years. I think we were both shocked to meet again after so long being nothing but ink on parchment to one another. “  Generous slice of cake cut Molly moved towards the sink where Desmond dried.

Using a finger to channel the strength of her Blood Opal she wove a spell meant to see the dishes, with minor supervision, washing themselves. For a few moments her arm moved like a conductors as she set the wash about doing itself. That fancy education Lord Clery’d seen she got paid off in more ways that her extensive knowledge of craft’s finer points. It was just quite handy when it came to the matter of hated chores like the damnable dishes.  Working the spell with one hand, holding momentarily forgotten cake in the other, Molly continued to speak as she went about contributing in her showy but efficient way.

The subject of our letters has quite scholarly and only personal enough for politeness’ sake so I think we’d both forgotten that over time change and adulthood found us both.” With her will made reality woven, Molly took lick of frosting on to a finger and savored the sugary delight of it. “That’s not what you’ve kept me late for is it?” She asked through a nose wrinkled for effect.  “I know Lairds can have say over whether a pairing is a match made for marriage but I wasn’t expecting you to dive into matchmaking at a funeral, Dez.” Point made in the loving, but sarcastic manner so common to the Scelts Molly finally took a bite of her dessert. “You holding up okay?” She asked and though the question seemed to come from nowhere they both knew the truth.

Burying a parent was never easy. Burying a father whose position you were meant to fill? Molly couldn’t imagine that burden’s weight and, if Dez needed it she wanted to give him the space to share it. While Molly suspected he’d wanted her evening’s council for matters of arcane prophecy she first, whatever his ambition, she wanted to make sure her dear friend was managing a third as well as his optimistic countenance worked to project.
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Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #19 on: Jul 25, 17, 11:45:59 PM »
Once more, Desmond felt like a voyeur while watching the two Black Widows interact. Molly and Morgan were both part of his family in ways more obvious than Blood. Desmond wouldn’t admit to feeling the tiniest swell of jealousy where Molly was concerned. He cared about her well-being and he wanted her treated properly. He also wanted Morgan treated well and appreciated for the good man that he was, rather than being seen as an oddity due to his dual castes.

A thousand thoughts swirled through Desmond mind; a few of them played out across his face until he noticed that Molly had started helping him with the dishes. He noted her Blood Opal, as dark as his own, and wondered briefly again at Morgan’s question. Had he ever wanted Molly? Did he want her?

He watched the dishes in silence for a moment, his expression pensive. He was avoiding the elephant in the room, the looming spectre of his father that would linger over all of his decision as Clan Laird. The truth was that Desmond had never prepared himself for this day. Nolan was larger-than-life, stronger than an ox, and never stayed down for long. The old man was such a fixture in his life that, while Desmond understood that he’d be gone someday, that day was always in a far, far future that he’d never see. A future where Desmond had a wife, kids, and gray hairs of his own.

Now he was gone.

I’m okay, Molly. No marriage contracts yet. I asked you to stay because I need your help.” he said.

I’m trying to raise us all up, Molly. But I don’t know if I’m going to succeed. I...I was hoping that maybe you could look into your webs and tell me if I’m going to succeed. I have to know. I can’t botch this.” he said, looking to her finally.


Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #20 on: Aug 15, 17, 03:42:49 PM »
Molly bit her lip when Desmond’s question turned to matters of her Craft’s arts. It was understandable that in grief’s uncertainty he’d seek out the comfort of a future assured. Prophecy was a complex and sensitive art and Death brought forth strange powers and currents of mood capable of disturbing fortune’s weavings. There were more than a handful of reasons why Desmond's request was one she’d grant but not just then, not in that kitchen with a house full of those who mourned. “No one knows for certain if they’re going to succeed, Dez. Not even Dark Jeweled Black Widows;” she answered with a sigh that released her full lower lip from captivity in its loosing. Gently the witch dropped the spell she’d been using to wash dishes so that her friend and once savior might have her full focus.

Her cake was likewise abandoned as she moved nearer Desmond to take his hand in her own and then cover it with the other. There weren’t many in Scelt who’d accept physical comfort from the touch of a Widow whose snake tooth remained intact but the Clery’s newly named Laird was never one for cowardice or bigotry. “Besides, what is it you’re really asking me here? Do you want to know if you’re going to make mistakes while in charge? Of course you will, everyone fuck’s up. Lucky you though, you’re like me and clever enough to fix what you might break.” Squeezing his hand reassuringly she let it dropped so they no longer touched but Molly remained close enough so that the heat of her nearness might be nice enough. She’d never been a terribly affectionate thing but she tried when it mattered.

Or do you want to know if you’re going to do well? Because I need no magic to tell me that your dedication, ethics and knack for making friends in the right places is going to do real well by your people. Hell’s Fire, you’re gonna have me thinking you asked just so hear the flattery.” A soft chuckle made clear her jest as she hip checked her companion gently in good humor. “Alls that to say sure, I’ll help you make sense of the road ahead but not tonight. You need to feel this, all of it, before you can do what needs doing.

Grant your da’ the respect of moving through his losses’ grief instead of burying it in tomorrow’s worries. You and your job to come will both be better off for it.
” The young Black Widow, as many of her caste did, spoke with an insight into the heart beyond that normally granted by years so few. Twenty seven was not so old but when it came to people Lady O’Kerry, soon to be Head of Scelt’s Hourglass, could be wise as a crone.
hope is a thing with feathers

Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #21 on: Aug 15, 17, 11:31:28 PM »
Desmond didn’t immediately let Molly’s hand go unless she pulled away from him. He’d known for her years, but tonight was causing him to rethink the things he knew. Morgan’s comment about him and Molly played a part in it, that was certain. But the woman before him had a calm, a steadiness about her that helped Desmond stabilize himself. He’d wanted to lock himself in his house for a month and drink his way through all of his pain, starting tonight. He would probably feel that way at least ten more times in the future.

Molly’s words about making mistakes bothered Desmond, but only because he knew that she was right. No matter what her visions said, no matter how careful he was in the coming days and years, he would make mistakes. He would probably make very bad mistakes and errors in judgement that had far-reaching consequences. He couldn’t avoid those things if he wanted to lead the clan as Father had. Nolan made people mad. He stubborn and never met a fight he didn’t like. More than once, he’d gone outside his marriage and enjoyed the company of other women.

He’d also protected Clan Clery from a lot of bad situations. He’d allowed Desmond to go to the Naval Academy in Dhemlan and make something of himself. He’d built a profitable business and made their family very wealthy. He’d allied himself with Taryn Kerry and put the family in position to benefit from the fall of the Sheanes.

He brought Molly’s hand up to his lips and kissed it gently.

You’re right, Molly. You’re right about all of it. I’ve been a grown man for years but...I guess I just expected him to always be here, even after he wasn’t Laird anymore. I imagined going to him for advice when my hair turned gray and he was old and hunched over and grouchier than he ever was.” Desmond said, laughing softly as he slowly let Molly’s hand go. She was close enough that Desmond picked up on her scent. There was a certain danger in being near a Black Widow, a danger that he’d been warned about his whole life. They’ll kill you so fast you won’t even know you’re dead.

Desmond knew that Molly was an extremely dangerous woman and that she could kill him without blinking. But this was Molly, the Molly he’d kept safe when people wanted her dead. The Molly whose Jewels matched his in a strange sort of symmetry that he’d never really thought upon until now.

The Molly that put aside her dislike of people to come here and console him.

I’m glad you came, Molly.” he said, looking down at her. “Really, I am.


Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #22 on: Aug 16, 17, 02:59:52 AM »
When she moved to break the physical contact that was to her caste’s senses ever overwhelming and moreso given the high emotion of the gathering where they spoke Desmond held fast. Difficult as the contact made it to keep her needs and feelings separate from his own Molly allowed it because that’s what you did when someone you cared fors father died. You gave what you could and you weren’t a piece of shit about it. The kiss on her hand was a surprise she bore with grace. Death made people funny and jealousy made men try things they’d never before considered. On another day she would’ve pulled away and snarled about pissing contests before catching the first wind back to her cottage. Dez hadn’t ever felt a flicker of romantic tenderness in her direction her keen senses were unlikely to miss and Morgan? The Black Widow Prince was unpracticed in control of his baser desires and not privileged as she to have a Red Moon worker on retainer. After years of friendship with both cousins their sudden interest sparked at a funeral was far from flattering.

Just then in that kitchen she let the normally fury inducing behavior slide and found herself rewarded by her favorite words, you’re right Molly. Whatever he said next was met with a smile from the Black Widow whose future he’d invested heavily in. The grin softened to a thing of understanding that was mirrored in a gentle squeeze of Desmond’s hand before their grips parted. Considerate of the new Laird’s fragile state she remained close enough for her warmth and scent to be a comfort while he talked through the complex hurts of one of life’s inevitable losses.

Of course I came, Dez. I’d be a shit friend if I stayed home with my weaving when something like this is going on in your life.” To break some of the tension she was choosing for to sake of her friendships to blame the cousin's inappropriate and shared rise in interest as understandable if not admirable responses to tough circumstances. Desmond just buried his father. Morgan was a male Black Widow in a Territory that couldn't forgive witches from whom the caste was meant its sin let alone a bloke cursed its gifts. The slice she’d ignored for her friend’s momentary need of her full focus was tucked into anew to give them both a break from conversation’s obligation. She indulged a sweet tooth rarely satisfied and used the excuse of her chewing to be quiet and seek a path towards conversation less unbalancing. “I promise it’s going to be alright. You’re more ready for this than you realize and you’ve got more than a few wildly competent friends in your corner to make sure your clan’s future is bright beneath your guidance.” Molly grinned and took another bite while offering Desmond an amiable and gentle hip check meant to solicit his agreement to her undeniable wisdom.
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Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #23 on: Oct 24, 17, 12:13:30 AM »
You’re kind, Molly. I wish I was as certain about my future as you.” Desmond said, offering her a warm smile. His life had gone from stable and completely in his control to being in flux with the subtraction of a single person. Despite all his issues with his father, many of them based on the woman standing before him, Desmond had loved the old man with all of his heart. His mother was a widow now and Desmond would have to see to her care for the next few years. He needed her to live long enough to see his plans bear fruit, to sit with her grandchildren and tell themselves stories of Grandpa Nolan.

He couldn’t lose anyone else right now.

Well, I’m glad you’re one of those wildly competent friends, Molly. If I ask you how things are going to turn out a few more times before I get my feet beneath me, try not to hold it against me, okay?” Desmond aske, his tone half-teasing. He leaned back against the counter after he finished the dishes and tried to think of something he could say that didn’t sound like self-pity or worry about the future. He didn’t want to get philosophical or poetic about life. He wanted to talk about something that he could control, that he could fix.

I’m going to rebuild the Wexol Court, Molly.” he said, by way of transition.

The Sheanes are gone. They ran things around here for centuries while the rest of us followed their lead. Now that they’re gone, the other clans know that there’s a power vacuum, same as I do.” Desmond said.

If Clan Clery doesn’t step in, we may not get another chance. This is my chance to do something right for my clan and the District. We can do this if I play my cards correctly.” Desmond said.

I’ve got to find people to fill Court positions, but none of this will be official until I locate a Queen to rule. Lady Kerry was very definite on that point.” Desmond said.


Offline Molly O'Kerry

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #24 on: Nov 21, 17, 08:33:41 PM »
Desmond wished for Molly’s vision and she smiled while knowing none would want the sort of knowing she possessed once they realized how consuming it was to live a life across times far and gone. Rarely did she get to hold a moment without seeing portents in the shadows and it made her accomplished young life a lonely one. Relationships were difficult to maintain for a witch inclined to see a fight before it began. She preferred to spare herself pains of the heart and flesh. There were Red Moon houses in Scelt and Dhemlan that knew her patronage well for Molly exercised her body’s baser needs and longings through transactions of clear communication and profit. There was purity of intent when sharing a bed with a professional so long as she was careful never to visit the same artisan too many times in a row. Attachments such as those were for others less obsessed with ambition than the Lady O’Kerry.

You can keep asking, but I’m not throwing my mind back and forth across boundaries of realm and time just to reassure you because your position is new and a bit uncertain, Des. I’m not going to let you become one of those leaders who can’t crack a mirror without asking a seer if its foreshadowing a terrible event. I’ll always be your eyes when you need them, but I won’t let their gifts make you unsure without their say.” What caution the Black Widow offered the Warlord about putting too much stock in visions instead of his instincts was an iteration of an exchange they’d had in different rooms across several years and situations. She sighed and got comfortable when he, as usual, launched into his query after hearing but not feeling her worry.

What is it you want from me then?” She asked in a manner businesslike but intrigued. “You know of my ambitions and court service sits nowhere in their measure. Are you asking me to find you a Queen, Des? You also know Priestesses keep track of them so you don’t need me to find your plan's figurehead. Enough dancing around about what you want to know if you’re going to stand there using Nolan’s wake as a time to do business, speak plain what in the hell it is you want from me.” The Widow’s tone was sharp but not unkind. She didn’t take lightly her connection to Mother Night’s unfolding plan, and she didn’t lightly make use of her potent blessings.
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Offline Desmond Clery

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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #25 on: Nov 24, 17, 01:10:38 AM »
Desmond bit back his initial retort to focus on what Molly was saying. She wasn’t his personal Seer, nor was she required to use her gifts for his benefit. He’d not wanted to turn this into an argument o even a heated discussion. His father’s passing was still playing havoc with his mind, though, and throwing everything he believed and wanted into flux. This wasn’t supposed to happen for many more years, but he was dealing with it now. It would take years to get used to the idea of his father being gone. Until then, he still had to stand up and lead like he’d always done.

And he’d always done it without knowing what the future held.

That’s the problem, Molly. I’ve checked with the Priestesses, as many as I can find. Clan Clery hasn’t had a Queen in a centuries. Nolan wanted me to marry Taryn Kerry, the Queen of Denford, to secure our rule over Wexol. The Sheanes are gone, or so I’ve heard. But Niamh Sheane is still out there. No one’s heard from Davos Sheane in some time. I don’t want a Red Prince showing up to rally anyone still left in his family to come back and take Wexol, not when it’s Clan Clery’s time.” Desmond said, looking up at her. He shifted to sit a little more comfortable against the counter, hating the dread that clawed at the back of his mind. Davos Sheane had been his family’s killer and a Red Jewel couldn’t be discounted, especially if he returned with the family members who’d gone into hiding.

If that was the case, Clan Clery needed to get ready as soon as possible.

I need to know if I should worry about the Sheanes returning to challenge us for Wexol. If Davos Sheane is out there, I’d rather know and get prepared for that day than get caught off-guard.” Desmond said.

Are the Sheanes gone for good?” he asked.


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Re: You Never Said That You'd Be Gone
« Reply #26 on: Nov 27, 17, 09:12:15 PM »
Desmond spoke as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. It made her wish she was the sort of witch who could pull of playfully but with some earnest whack behind it smack some sense into the man. She didn’t have the right touch for that sort of thing, it always lead to an awkward moment, hurt feelings, or both when she tried. That urge drowned in worry as the subject of the Mad Red Prince of the Sheane’s was brought into the conversation. She didn’t shiver, but her demeanor grew reserved and somber at the mentioning. Instead of telling him to fuck off, like she might’ve after he pursued lines of inquiry begging use of her talents even though she’d just said no to that very thing, she quietly considered the facets of his focused concern.

Molly belonged to a smaller Clan beneath the banner of the very Kerry Queen that Desmond mentioned. Growing up in the shadow of one of the more established families made her disinterested in disputes of bloodlines and what lands they claimed. Like many whose world revolved around Scelt’s cities she found the division some made between Clan and Territory old fashioned in their modern age. However, the politic Black Widow knew better than to share that particular ideal outside of like minded company.

For good and for ill, Scelt was made up by its people’s traditions as much as the curves of her shores. Struggle would always exist between the Clans because that was part of the price of having so many groups rich in pride and tradition. The most that could be hoped for was to mitigate the damage and steer towards honorable conflict. In that aim Lorenial Killan failed when she struck the Sheanes from the land. It would be centuries before the Territory would even know what it had lost in the outlawing of one of its formerly great clans. Even the innocent among their number perished for Loreniel left no place for mercy in her rage.

Usually, Molly didn’t steer away from the debate of a subject for which she felt passionately such as that the Shanes had deserved a more measured, fairly distributed punishment for their sins. A man she cared for as much as Lord Desmond Clery got a pass on her persistent quest to be right on the eve of his father’s funeral.

You’re asking questions I can’t blame you for putting at my feet, Dez. Not after everything you’ve done for me and have promised to do for my kind. But...” Molly sighed and continued on to add a qualification to her aid’s readiness. “I’m still not going to answer them tonight. These sort of very direct inquiries into fate’s plans take time. The more specific the question the trickier the answers to find. Come to me on the next waning half moon. Bring me an old family mirror, a jar full of dirt from your father’s grave and a hair from as many Clery heads as you can manage.”

Molly moved from the space against which they’d both rested and began going through the motions of a woman readying herself for a long trip home on a cold night. That didn’t stop her from talking. Very little could quiet the Hourglasses’s soon to be Head when her mind was set to a task. “I’m tired tonight, and I couldn't be sure you'd be getting my best. Plus, I said no." She couldn't resist gently reminding the Warlord that he was pushing the boundaries of a refusal fairly stated. "I do promise soon as the sky is right we’ll see about sating that understandable curiosity of yours.”

Calling in her coat Molly slid into the green wool dark as summer’s leaves beneath only the faintest glow of light. “Take your time to mourn. The right moon for your queries is in four nights. I’ll send you a letter on all the preparations you should make in two days. Shouldn’t need more than one to see it all done."Moving in for a hug goodbye, Molly embraced Desmond and her grip around her mourning friend and savior lingered. “It’s going to be okay, Dez. Not now and not for always, but by and large I promise the math works out. You and yours are gonna be just grand.”

She lingered long enough for a proper goodbye, a few more sips of tea and to affirm that he understood what instructions she’d already given for their trip into what victories and trials the new Laird’s future held. Kindness exchanged and promises made, Molly slipped away into the night through the kitchen’s door. On the road already in view came the worn looking, but perfectly serviceable carriage, driven by her hired guard, that’d take her home. 
hope is a thing with feathers