Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-05-27 19:47:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, !log, !plot: ivalician nyd, aspel cassul, magnolia paget, rictor cassul, seloria cassul |
Who: Aspel, Mag, Rictor & Seloria.
What: NYD dinner.
Where: Aspel’s apartment above The Armory.
When: NYD/ BACKDATED: March 21st
Rating: PG-13?
Status: Complete!
Aspel had gotten Mag to help assure her apartment would be in an appropriate order for Rictor and Seloria’s presence. While they always could have used Mag’s place - none of the apartments along the Bazaar seemed particularly large from what Aspel could gather together, the smith had insisted upon the dinner taking place at her own place. This of course inspired its own bout of panic, and Aspel had implored Mag to assist in assuring all signs of her… Questionable life choices be hidden thoroughly, or removed from her apartment so that her younger siblings would not fall privy to them. Unfortunately, Dullahan would need to stay near, coping with him otherwise would simply be miserable after, and that was not a burden Aspel would choose to bare. With food that had been ordered and only required minimal prep (mostly being heated up), and various baked goods that Aspel could make, the apartment smelled of wine, freshly prepared food, and all of the various windows had had their shades pulled back to allow light to stream in. While it may still be cool outside, it did not mean that they could not enjoy what was within. A glance was given over to Mag, worry etched across Aspel’s face, fingers drumming against the countertop in anxiety. “What if they do not like it?” The panic was withheld the best she could, but still creeping out around the edges. Thankfully, Aspel would manage to pull herself together before long; she always did. Mag took a look around, regarding their handiwork, and gave her friend a smile. "They'll like it," she said, attempting to reassure Aspel, though she knew words wouldn't be enough. "If they don't, we'll get them so drunk they start liking it." The first time Rictor and Seloria were coming over. Well, she could not blame Aspel for being anxious. But if things went well, it could be the next step in mending Aspel's relationship with her siblings, and so Mag would try to assure that things went well. “I pray you are correct.” Came the response to Mag after a beat fell between them, Aspel’s anxiety welling up deep inside of her. Meanwhile, downstairs... Seloria stood in front of the door of Aspel’s home. She’d been dropped off and her escort had insisted on waiting, but she sent them off. She didn’t want them to see her just standing there as she was then. She was holding a basket in her hands and wearing the pin that Aspel had given her for her birthday. Her hair had been styled in favor of displaying its craftsmanship. She wondered if Aspel ever noticed how often she used it. For decoration. She hoped she wouldn’t need to use it for its other purpose anytime soon. She also wondered if her brother ever noticed it was more than just a shiny trinket for his baby sister. Pulling up alongside her, the man nudged her slightly. Their timing had been perfect, the holy knight rounding the corner just as Seloria shooed away her ride. “Rung the doorbell yet?” he asked. By the look on Seloria’s face, her stiff and frozen posture, he could tell she hadn’t. Rictor had only been in this apartment once, getting accidentally swept inside and up the stairs by Ari without Aspel’s explicit say-so—the event had been accordingly awkward and strained, a horrible ordeal. But this time, they’d finally been invited. Both of them. He was dressed nicely, freshly-shaved, and seemed to have shaken off the effects of last night’s presumed drinking and subsequent hangover. Ric reached out, past his sister, and pressed the button for the bell. One hand slunk into his pocket (affecting nonchalance), and then after a pause, the other found Seloria’s spare hand and gripped it with a reassuring squeeze. Then came the chime of the doorbell, ringing clear through the apartment and the smith froze in place, her heart leaping into her throat. “They are here.” The words felt awkward, uncomfortable in her mouth, and her tone came out a bit more ominous sounding then she’d really intended but…. What else was there to do. A somewhat pathetic, and only mildly panicked, yet strained smile was tossed over to Mag. “The show must go on, no?” A pause. “Could you….” Her thoughts scattered, debating asking Mag to let them in and then reconsidering all over again. “Take one more sweep of the apartment to assure nothing is out of place?” Aspel attempted to keep the pleading tone from her voice, but it seeped through at least a little as she attempted to rein in her panic. Swallowing hard, a nod would be given to other woman, receiving a smile and a nod in return, and the smith would head down the stairs, through the storage room, and into the forge, sucking in a deep breath with her hand on the door handle before pulling it open. “Welcome.” A soft smile was offered to the two before she stepped back, pulling the door wide open to usher them in. “Come in, come in before you both catch your deaths. Food and drink await upstairs.” Maybe she was going about this all wrong but… What else could she do? Seloria hadn’t answered Rictor when he asked if she’d rang the doorbell. Instead, she just looked over at him, grateful for his presence. She would not have been able to do this alone. The thought of being in Aspel’s home without him hadn’t even crossed her mind. She should have coordinated this better, she realized, but Faram had a way of working things out. As if to reinforce that thought, Rictor had slipped his hand into hers and she could only look up at him gratefully. She gave his hand a squeeze back. Her breath caught when she heard the latch on the door catch, right before the light pooled out into the street illuminating both of the fair-haired guests. So similar, but they were clearly so different in their stature. “Sister,” she said, before entering. Her hand had not quite let go of Rictor’s. It was childish and she knew it, but it was her anchor. It calmed her nerves. Her other hand presented the basket to Aspel. Inside were a different assortment of Kerwonian wines, fruits, and cheeses. They’d be things they could all enjoy. She didn’t know what Aspel had upstairs, but it could never hurt to have more. Always trust Seloria to attend to all the niceties, every last consideration attended to. Looking at Aspel, Rictor could practically feel the tension radiating off her in waves, though she mastered it well—he’d grown better at reading her over the past year. And it was funny, considering he’d been the one thrown so off-kilter the last time he was here. Ric’s gaze slid from one sister to the other, taking them both in, before he followed the invitation and slipped indoors, giving Seloria’s hand one last squeeze before regretfully letting go. (She’d grown up so quickly, suddenly becoming a young woman rather than a toddler at his knee; it had never quite occurred to him that Aspel might think the same of him.) “Upstairs, then?” he asked. After a brief pause, without waiting for further invitation, he started loping upstairs to the apartment, his hand on the banister. He already suspected Mag’s presence would be like a balm on the evening, helping ease this transition and carry the conversation wherever necessary, and a part of him was already admittedly looking forward to seeing the other knight. Hearing the footsteps on the stairs, Mag left the kitchen to meet them, expecting to see Aspel at the head of the arriving party and finding Rictor instead. "Welcome to our humble abode," she said to him, smiling. "Before you run away, know that I've had no hand in preparing the food. I did play a part in picking the drinks, though." Seloria and Aspel ascended the stairs then, and after greeting Seloria and giving Aspel a smile (meant to reassure her, though no doubt Aspel would fret until the evening was over, or even after that), Mag nodded in the direction of the living room and said, "Well, shall we?" Thanks was given to Seloria, affirmation to Rictor, and the door was closed behind them, locked, and the same would be repeated for the next two doors after until Mag was greeting them all quite readily. Already, Aspel was nearly out of her skin with anxiety, but it wouldn’t do to show that, to show that now. The old pictures remained on the mantle, her bookshelf had been picked clean of any questionable content with the assistance of Mag earlier, and the rest had been quite successfully tidied up as well. “And of drinks there are plenty.” Because if Aspel had to struggle through something, blast all if she were about to do it sober. The basket was brought into the rather small kitchen and left on the counter. “Was there particular preference for a type of alcohol?” “Please, do feel free to make yourselves at home.” Everything was so painfully stiff that it took everything inside Seloria not to frown. They had just found each other. Well, she had just found Aspel again. She wasn’t the great disappointment her mother had spelled her out to be. In a way, she could understand her mother, but the truth was that even on this path, she had done a great deal to bring honor to their name. While her success would most likely foster or inspire deviation from traditions in the future, the truth was that it was something to be commended. She murmured a return to the thanks and made her way upstairs with everyone else. The door closed and locked behind them, she finally removed her cloak and then her gloves, hanging them in their proper place. “Do you have anything from home?” She had a clear preference in any bar for anything made in Kerwon. Everything tasted much fuller from there. She was sure things would get easier after a few glasses of anything there was to offer. “Same here,” Rictor said. He was accustomed to reaching for the beer around Aspel, anything to help pad these interactions and blunt them of awkwardness (though it had gotten much easier lately). Casting Aspel another look, he soon managed to untangle her rigidness for what it truly was. “Hey,” he said, pausing enough beside her to whisper in a low voice, for her ears only. “Don’t worry about it. This’ll be great.” (The more that time dragged on, the man realised he might forgive her for the deviation—he loved knighthood, so why shouldn’t she? It seemed less and less an issue, the more that women like Feldwebel Black slammed him into his place—) But Ric shook off the pensive mood, simultaneously shrugging off his coat and, indeed, pulling out a chair at the dining table and planting himself into it, making himself at home. He didn’t look at the photographs on the mantlepiece, however; those cut a bit too deep. “Ah, a few things.” A pause. “Let me fetch them.” A few brisk steps were taken to retrieve the requested spirits before she set to work opening them, and quickly found Rictor nearly whispering in her ear. A strained smile was flashed, but quickly faded. “I only pray you are correct.” And with those words, the top was popped off of a bottle of wine before Aspel set on to opening a bottle of harder Kerwonian liquor she had been saving for a special time. If now wasn’t special, with all siblings set under one roof, what time ever was? Mag had taken the seat across from Aspel's, to allow the siblings to sit together. The main purpose of this dinner was for them to be comfortable with each other, and she was there to smooth the process (and what she couldn't manage, the alcohol surely would). With that in mind, she took the bottle of Kerwonian liquor and poured each of them a shot. Raising her glass, she said, "How about a toast?" Seloria took her place at the table, trying to look as comfortable and at ease as possible. It was hard. She hadn’t directly invited Aspel into her own home. She didn’t know if she’d say yes or what to do. Rictor had to deal with all her fretting and pacing when he’d lived there. She’d have to mention Aspel always being welcome sometime before leaving. Yes, that settled her nerves just enough. She accepted the glass of liquor gracefully. It was all she could do not to just guzzle upon receiving it. She lifted the glass to her nose and took in the scent, easily identifying the contents. “I haven’t had the pleasure in quite some time,” she admitted. “And yes, I think a toast would be appropriate with all three of us beneath the same roof again.” Then she looked at Mag, “and good friends.” While she wasn’t particularly close to Seloria, she knew that Aspel would not have invited her if they were not as close as sisters (or more). “Prost,” Ric said, following his younger sister’s lead in raising his own glass to Mag. “She must’ve taught you prost on your very first day, right?” So the bottles were uncorked, the liquid poured, the glasses raised in a ringing toast as they ushered in the new year. Conversation loosened and spread to fill the cracks in the room, swelling to fill the walls and rafters as they dug into the (not home-cooked) meal. By the end of the dinner, they were all full, sated into a comfortable lull. Once they recovered and cleared away some of the plates, it was time for the traditional after-dinner coffee, cake, and wine—which went slowly, savouring each others’ company rather than rushing through the courses. Rictor was making a valiant effort at eating, however, still picking away at the remains of his dessert despite it seeming impossible for him to pack away more food. The room was warm and welcoming, Mag’s presence a relief. Whenever Ric glanced up, it was still a mild shock to see both Seloria and Aspel with him, both visible in the same scene. But none of their fears came to pass: the dinner went without incident, with nothing more than pleasantries and laughter and jokes and stories exchanged. |