Grandpa pays a visit...

["Kathie Care" <kathie@availablelight.net>]

Onyx Suite Sitting Room -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

        The chamber is large, but by no means so immense as to not be cozy. The
black marble floor, shot through with fine veins of white and gold, carries a
high shine, though rugs of an exotic flavor are piled in layers throughout the
room to cushion one's footsteps. Ornate tapestries depicting the history of the
Imperium line the walls, suspended by heavy golden rods and accented with golden
tassled cords. Floor to ceiling bookcases fill one corner of the room, with an
elegantly carved writing desk nearby. Several glowglobes are placed throughout
the room, providing soft evenly-distributed lighting.
        On the opposite side of the room, a pair of black velvet upholstered
wingback chairs are grouped with a settee in an intimate setting, along with
sidetables, also elegantly carved as the writing desk. High arched windows face
out towards the palace gardens, their heavy black velvet and golden-fringed
draperies pulled back to admit the day's light. Also, a pair of french doors
lead out to a small patio. A golden gilt birdcage sits on a stand almost at
eye-level in another corner, near the french doors.

Players:
 Eduard
Objects:
 Flowered Egg
Exits:
 Double Doors <DD> leads to Onyx Suite Bedroom -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)
 Ornate Doorway <S> leads to Eastern Hallway -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

The rooms are silent, and appearing mostly vacant. Though perhaps it's the way
they're preferred. Tat'iana sits in one of the wing-back chairs, the cradle
nearby, within reach. The twins are asleep, and she herself has the eyes-closed
pose of an exhausted mother stealing a quick, but light nap while she can.

Eduard enters, quietly, allowing the doors to glide closed behind him. He
approaches the twins silently, allowing himself to study them a brief moment.

Tat'iana's eyes open, a slight jerk of her head betraying the suddenness of her
waking. She looks up quickly, but the identity of the visitor, as soon as it
seeps into her brain who it is, gives her pause. She relaxes just as quickly,
remaining silent to let the grandfather observe his grandchildren without
disruption.

Eduard turns half-lidded eyes from his grandchildren and says to Tat'iana, "He
looks just like his father at that age. The same curl of lip, the same
rebellious forelock. And as for her, the Rastanyev influence on Corrino
architecture is clear."

Tat'iana nods slowly, her eyes lowering to the sleeping bundles in the cradle.
Her teeth worry at her bottom lip briefly, an old habit resurfaced likely. An
anxious habit. Her voice is only just above a whisper as she murmurs, "But how
closely will they follow in the footsteps of their parents, as they grow?"

Eduard shrugs. "The eternal hope of the historian is that it will be with more
wisdom and forebearance. The eternal observation of the parent is that they will
do as they will."

All she can do is nod, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. There is an inner
struggle, but finally something wins out. She blurts out, without much more
thought, "I so desperately need to speak with you." There is a ring of urgency
in her tone.

Eduard nods, slowly, lazily. "I came at your summons, madam," he says, formally.
"I also need to speak with you. It's about this book, you see. I thought you
might enjoy it." He pulls a slim volume from his pocket and passes it to the
Empress. "Poetry, my lady. The concubine to the Emperor Elrood IX wrote a volume
of commemorative poetry upon the birth of her first son. I'd especially
recommend the poem, 'The First Day of nAudrim', where she talks about the view
from the palace." He glances towards the book in his hands, then to Tat'iana,
then back to the book as he passes it to her.

Tat'iana accepts the book into her hands, her eyes studying its cover. She opens
it, to look at the table of contents for the indicated poem. "I received a
letter," she says quietly, "from someone no longer with us... Someone presumed
dead. Perhaps you would like to sit?"

Eduard clears his throat and seats himself, eyes indicating the book. Lightly,
he says, "The Imperial post is not what it used to be, my lady. Letters are
routinely lost and misplaced." He pauses. "I'm sure your husband the Emperor
will be able to solve that problem in no time, should you alert him to it."

Tat'iana carefully turns to the indicated page, before saying anything else.
Though in little mood for poetry, perhaps it is something of importance to the
man that it be read right away.

The poem seems a bit florid in the style of the fourth millenium. However, down
towards the bottom of the page, in a nearly illegible script, is written in ink,
almost an afterthought, "What we say here, we say for the world to hear."

Tat'iana shakes her head slowly, as she reads the bottom line, lifting a finger
to point to the ornamental table in the center of her furniture grouping.
Ungracefully left in the center of the table is a small baby blanket, but she
reaches for it, pulling it away to reveal one of the smaller cone of silence
devices found throughout the Palace. "I'd not trouble His Majesty with such a
trivial matter... it was just painful to read, is all," she murmurs. "I
appreciate that I could voice my complaint to someone, finally... I feel better
just airing it."

Eduard reaches over and replaces the baby blanket so it shrouds the cone
generator once more. "Perhaps my lady is too busy and fatigued with the duties
of motherhood," he suggests. "I could myself convey your displeasure to the
proper authorities, having an abundance of free time and the freedom to act." He
asks, idly, "Was the communique an urgent one? Some letter congratulating you on
your engagement to my son the Emperor?"

Tat'iana watches as the blanket is put back over the device, an eyebrow arching.
So much for being able to speak freely. "It is a pity, I felt it to be a...
mistake. Or a joke. I destroyed it. But yes... it was of an urgent nature..."

Eduard says flatly, "A pity you destroyed it, my lady. My son the Emperor's
servants may never trace its route, then."

"They may trace it to Tupile for all the good it would do," Tat'iana shrugs
lightly. "The man is dead," she shakes her head to the contrary, "and a
misdirected, old letter... I hope no misdirected, old packages follow after it.
It was.. shocking, to say the least."

Eduard nods in sympathy. "I can well imagine. Rest assured, I will speak to the
authorities at once about this. I do have some minor contacts in my son the
Emperor's bureaucracy,even after all this time, and perhaps they can shed some
light on this matter. Inefficiency must not be tolerated, especially in a
Sardaukar empire, my lady. And my son the Emperor is well known for his
efficiency."

Tat'iana nods slowly, swallowing against the lump forming in her throat at the
mention of such 'efficiency'. "The letter hinted that a package would be
delivered to me, further evidence of his joy. I... will not destroy this
package, if it arrives. Perhaps you could take it off my hands then?"

Eduard smiles wanly, "I would be only too happy to, my lady. The more of these
annoyances I can gather, the easier it will be to root out the underlying
problem." He glances towards the sleeping children. "How glad I will be, knowing
my grandchildren grow up in an Imperium free of such trifling worries."

Tat'iana nods slowly, her eyes also dropping to the cradle, but only briefly.
"You would... cut out that root, I take it..?"

Eduard says gently, "Why, I would do what was needful, my lady. As ever." He
smiles, almost shyly. "My only thoughts are for the future that my grandchildren
inherit. My weakness, I'm afraid, is that I see everything as a historian might.
And we Corrinos, that is, you and I both, my lady, walk large on that stage."

"Does Her Highness, Jenaa not also walk on that stage?" Tat'iana asks quietly.
"Or has her impending marriage labeled her a Ginaz already?"

Eduard says, "There are ten millenia of Corrino rule behind her, my lady. One
might argue that she no more can become a Ginaz, than we could squeeze this
entire palace into the confines of this small room."

"Have you yet been given the names of your grandchildren, my lord?" Tat'iana
asks, diverting entirely to a new subject.

Eduard says, "I had heard some discussion of the subject bandied back and forth,
my lady, but I put no more stock in it than any palace gossip. What did you
decide?"

There is a brief smile, and Tat'iana's head dips in a nod as she answers, "Your
grandson has been named in the fashion of the Corrinos... Corrin Eduard Janus
Ladislas Corrino. And your granddaughter.. in the old traditional style of the
Rastanyev -- Anuril Tat'ianovna kniazia Alexandra vnuchka Corrino."

Eduard smiles slightly. "Corrin and Anuril. Excellent choices, redolent with
historical resonances. Corry and Annie to those closest to them, of course, and
only that long until they turn, oh, ten or so and outgrow such silliness."

Tat'iana chuckles softly. "My brother yet calls me Anya, and Erich has picked up
the same habit. I wouldn't hope too strongly for such things to pass, my lord.
They may just stick..."

Eduard nods, slowly. "Corrino children are most insistent on getting their way,
of course, my lady."

"So I have noticed," Tat'iana grins wryly, a flash of brief humor before her
somber mood takes over once again. There is a question nagging, buzzing at her
ear like a Caladanian mosquito, but she holds it back -- finding no suitable way
to phrase it aloud.

Eduard rises slowly, unfurling his lanky frame to his full height. "I thank you
for your hospitality, my lady, but I'm sure you're tired after dealing with twin
newborns all day. Would you do me the signal honor of reciprocating the visit? I
shall serve an excellent cup of tea you're sure to enjoy."

"I should look forward to it," Tat'iana manages a small smile. Any further
pleasantries are cut off by the stirring of one of the babes - no doubt, he
means to fuss, and will wake his sister in the process. Their mother steps to
hover over the cradle, ready to pluck one from the bed to enforce and prolong
the quiet as long as possible, should that threat of fussing become nearer to
reality.

Eduard turns to go. "Mind young Corrin. If he is half the trouble his father was
at that age, you shall have both hands full." he smirks. Then he slips from the
room, silently as usual.


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