Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

Lady Reyne Mordha (heldbytheblade) wrote in watchers_rp,

... and it is natural for a mother to worry. Reyne spent all of five seconds contemplating this. She forced herself to suppress the snort of laughter that wanted to answer it, turning it into an amiable enough chuckle. Or something thereabouts. “Watchers, don’t tell my daughters that, they will wonder what’s wrong with me.” She paused, considering the subject properly for what may have been the first time. “More concerning is when other children want to play with them. They still don’t grasp that not every child has the same strengths in the yard.” Ah, wait. The boy. She was meant to show more sympathy. Or was she? Reyne actually couldn’t tell. “Still, either he enjoys himself or else you can hold it over your husband for as long as you please,” she pointed out.

“I thank you, but I cannot claim condolences over a drunkard managing to drown himself in the bath.” The Lady of Hel Mordha remembered no former Lord with any fondness -- save her father. Even then he was dead and she could recall with bizarre clarity her mother’s funeral, and his assertion that the dead cared not for the mortal sense of sentimentality. It had been over a century ago. Right now she was aware her tone was not what anyone outside of Ardghal may consider an appropriate way to speak of one’s late husband. (Who, now that she actually thought about it, was Iliana’s father and not the twins’ either. She was very nearly believing her own lies.) And yet she would not change her tone or apologise for it when men everywhere were speaking the same way about their wives. Let them gawk at her; Nevina would likely get her own back later. “Nevina? Yes, she is. Which is the only reason I am not wandering the halls in my leathers.” A heartbeat and a twitch in her mind reminded her: “Our younger sister, Iliana is also present this year.” Likely irrelevant information, but there was such a thing as a social network, and it seemed this year it may not actually be something to avoid quite so religiously.

Lord Dustin did not have a happy wife. Body language said so much that Reyne -- whose emotional spectrum did not match that of her alleged peers, thus nor could any physical leakage -- often wondered why more people did not check themselves before acting. Some reactions were spontaneous and involuntary, but that little flick… It was unlikely the problem lay with the cut of the dress. She wondered if she voiced a brief assessment of Lord and Lady Kolite’s marriage from that gesture alone would be as accurate as she liked to believe. Instead of doing such, Reyne gave Calista a bright smile -- the warmth in it coming from the satisfaction she had been right rather than anything else. “A pleasure, Calista.-- Oh? I hope you found each other in good health? My sisters have a habit of hoarding all their interesting news for later, then more than a year has passed and much has been forgotten.” She shrugged, her nose wrinkling at a point beyond the window. “Not that I’m innocent of that particular crime.”