Private Tales The Ten O'Clock News and the Morning Blues

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
'Fair point.' Properly chided, Faramund shut up. Byanka didn't talk much, and working out her options was already proving to be a pain in the neck. Perseverance, he reminded himself, can ofttimes pay dividends. Certainly, having a sister-knight in power had its benefits.

But then, how could she remain a sister-knight, if she chose to take up her father's mantle?

'Heavy is the crown,' he mumbled, listening to the running fountain and thinking of better times. Briefly, he pictured an ocean at sunset. He could smell the salt on the air, see the way the waves lapped at the shore. And there, amidst it all...

Monroe.

Better times, indeed. Grimacing, Faramund scratched thoughtfully at his beard. 'A reeve could work,' he said, brown eyes swivelling to fix themselves upon Byanka. 'Someone to look after the manor and grounds while you're absent. Once you are formally recognised as your father's heir, you could search for one? The butler might have a few recommendations.' He paused.

'Or Kavvin himself. Why not go to him, when you're ready to make your decision?'

Monroe Byanka Valkas
 
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"That's a good idea." Monroe nodded and gestured to Faramund. "Spend some time here, with the staff, and I am sure clarity will come to you."

She lifted a brow at Byanka, offering no emotions upon her face. "Asking these questions will only give you an idea of what this life will be like, it would not make anyone think you are considering it truly. Get all the details so you may make a better informed decision..." The dawnling shrugged, as if to indicate she was no sound counsel, just here for support.

Her eyes look to Faramund. There was still a lot there that needed answered, but she was afraid to ask. The kiss he stole earlier that day had only made her feel more reserved, but her thoughts tangled between friend and interest too many times. Monroe cleared her throat, "Should we leave Byanka to go ask these questions? Or do you wish to go with her?" She now looked to Byanka, small smile softening her face. "I didn't really sleep at all last night." She was still feeling the sway of alcohol when they had begun their journey here. "If you do not mind that I go rest somewhere."

Byanka Valkas Faramund
 
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Monroe and Faramund had been immensely helpful, and even she who desired closeness more than anything else knew that they deserved a break. This was not their burden to carry, and already she could see the weariness in their eyes after just one day.

She nodded to both of them and stood once more. "We can return to the house, Burrow- the butler- will have our rooms ready by now," she said.

Already she was beginning to put the pieces together, however unwillingly. Upon return to the house, she would get Burrow's opinion. She hadn't spoken to him in so long, and she rather longed for his calm, reassuring demeanor. He would find a way to make her worries seem like nothing, she knew.

She would begin the walk back through the gardens to the house, where the ever faithful butler was waiting.

Faramund Monroe
 
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'You two can head back, I'm going to remain here for a bit.' Looking up at Byanka, the dawnling smiled reassuringly. What came next was up to her and her alone. She didn't need his support, not really. 'You'll be fine,' he told her, glancing over his shoulder at the manse. He could see the butler waiting patiently by the back door, his hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed out.

'This could all be yours,' he thought out loud, meeting her gaze. 'Do what you think is right, Byanka. It's all we can ever do.' Standing, Faramund left Byanka and Roe to their own devices.

Circling the water fountain, his eyes admiring the white stone and intricate patterns, Faramund turned his gaze outwards. To the well-manicured gardens and the expanse beyond. An empty green ran for half a mile down to the nearest stand of trees. An old oak dominated the centre, standing tall and proud above the forest canopy to either side.

He could see a swing, there, beneath the oak's shadow. A relic from a childhood long gone.

Smiling to himself, Faramund started walking.

Monroe Byanka Valkas
 
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