From the perspective of Ysanne. RL date: March 29, 2002.
A scene in which Ysanne informs the Empress that her daughter, Anuril Corrino, has been found suitable for Sisterhood training.
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:
Tat'iana
Objects:
Flowered Egg
Exits:
Double Doors <DD> leads to Onyx Suite Bedroom -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)
Ornate Doorway leads to Halls of the Royal Residences -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)
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Tat'iana
Of average height for a woman, Tat'iana carries herself as though she were taller than she actually is. Her chin is angled proudly, her ivory complexion smooth and flawless, if not even more pale and porcelainesque than usual. Thick, dark lashes ring steely-gray eyes, which tilt upwards at the corners. Though they are the color of stormclouds, her eyes do catch the light, giving them more of a silvery quality. Lips that are neither too full, nor too narrow, rarely these days are graced by a soft smile.
Her deep ebony hair shines, the color so deep it almost casts a blue tint. Tiny, intricate braids of her hair are looped up, caught up in cleverly hidden pins. Atop her head, certainly out-doing the shine of her hair, is a diadem composed of brilliantly white Hagallian crystal. Almost shard-like, the gems are arrayed in a starbust pattern, each ray narrowing to a crisp point and topped with a round crystal drop. The light reflected by the piece might even be blinding, were the glowglobes tuned more brightly.
Her silken gown is also entirely in black, even the lace trim at the bottoms of the fitted, pointed sleeves being so dark as to come near to swallowing light. The gown seems more composed of layers, the neck of the bottom-most shell rising up her neck near to her ears even, and flaring out once reaching its peak. Teardrop-shaped jet beads dangle from the front tips of the lifted and arched collar. Designs in small black beads cover the bodice, down to a point just below where her navel would be. A voluminous surcoat in black velvet is the topmost layer of the costume, its sleeves wide and full. Designs overstitched onto the velvet in black are reminiscent of stylized lions, large and rampant along the edges of the skirt and sleeves.
Ysanne
Skin once smooth and free of blemish is now marked with a patchwork of wrinkles and lines as age has taken its inevitable toll. Still, her features retain some of her youthful qualities; her profile is as defined as ever it was, patrician features chiseled and refined into distinct curves and angles. Her eyes, brilliant cerulean, show only hints of the shadings of melange in their whites. She is of average height for a woman, her build perhaps a little on the spare side. Hair long since gone to a salt-and-pepper grey has been left to grow, its length reaching well down her back when left unbound.
Long black aba robes grace her form, the fitted sleeves reaching down to her wrists a contrast to the otherwise flowing nature of the garment. A voluminous hood has been pushed back from her face, its folds blending in to the uniform darkness of the rest of the aba.
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The afternoon is warm and clear, fluffy cotton clouds visible beyond the patio doors scooting across the sky slowly. Despite the good weather, Tat'iana is indoors today, and the children with her. Corrin plays on the floor by himself, largely independent and aloof. He is quite a contrast from his sister -- he being fair, and often loud and boisterous as well. Anuril, recently returned to her mother's lap, seems more the docile type. Dark-haired and quiet, she shyly clings to Tat'iana wenever she has the opportunity. Even now, she buries her face against her mother's bosom, cuddled up against her contently.
And still, the black drapes remain hanging in this room, one of the few left in the Palace still draped so.
Entering the sitting room, Ysanne closes the doors quietly behind her. A slight smile curves her lips as little Anuril is returned to her mother. Without speaking, she moves toward one of the chairs in the room, seating herself so that she faces the Empress and the girl child upon her lap. "She has," Ysanne says softly and without preamble, "been found suitable."
"Suitable?" Tat'iana echoes, a brow arching slightly. She glances down to her the child in her lap, her fingers clutching at the toddler perhaps just a little harder. A breath passes, long enough for the Empress to steel her nerves and mask her expression, and ensure her voice remains smooth and without inflection. But this is to the untrained ear. Fear tugs at her mind, evidenced by the shallowness of her breath, the tiny pulse fluttering quickly at her neck, the sudden unconscious swallow...
Ysanne's head rises and falls in a slow nod. "Yes...Your Majesty." Ysanne's tone is pitched low, so that it is at once soothing and intimate. "Anuril has displayed traits and behaviours that show a natural intelligence and perception. She has the potential to be trained as a Bene Gesserit Sister." There is no reference to Anuril as 'little' or a 'child', rather the girl is addressed solely by her name, an attempt to dissipate the influx of motherly protection that is sure to come.
Tat'iana remains calm, outwardly. "That won't be necessary," she says softly. "Anuril must remain here, until she is of age to attend finishing school, as I did." The refusal is firm, and Tat'iana at last glances up. She wears it well, this mask, but it's only too transparent. She re-settles the child against her, the position now one certainly more protective and guarding of the little one in her lap.
Ysanne's gaze does not waver as she listens to this refusal. She is not surprised, her brows do not even rise. She merely nods again, a gesture of understanding. "Your Majesty wishes to protect her daughter...but there is no cause for protection. The Sisterhood will care for Anuril as a second family." Her hands fold in her lap.
"Anuril is needed here," Tat'iana states even more firmly. "She is an heir to the Throne... and should anything happen to Corrin, she would be the next to be named Heir. I am pleased and proud of her potential... but, no, she must remain here. You may bring all the tutors and teachers you wish to her."
"Should anything befall Corrin, Anuril will be returned to the palace and Your Majesty's care", Ysanne says, the meter of her voice measured. "But Anuril's training cannot be conducted within these walls." Ysanne's voice is steel swathed in silk, determination countered by a gentle touch honed by years of negotiations and meditaion.
"Then Anuril will have no training beyond the needed time within the Finishing School," Tat'iana concludes archly. "I forbid her leaving, Your Reverence. You know full well, I cannot possibly consider another child. I've already lost one. Anuril and Corrin both will remain here. It is His Majesty's wish that the children both not be separated from their mother." Stubborn, resolute, the Empress's mind is made up.
"Your Majesty, it is not the will of the Sisterhood that any pain or suffering come to yourself or your daughter. But Anuril's talents will not flourish nor be fully explored save under the auspices of the Sisterhood...and for that, she must part company with your Majesty for a time." The tone and measure are unrelenting, the only movement of the Reverend Mother's entire body are the lips that say these words. She has not yet made mention of the contract, decided beforehand that it would be the wrong route to take, but the Empress' refusal is more than the aged woman expected.
Tat'iana's eyes narrow slightly, anger beginning to mount surely. A warm color begins to flood into her face, beginning at the base of her neck, and in a voice even lower than before states flatly, "We forbid her leaving. Do what you wish for her training -here-, or not at all. We have made our opinions clear on the matter, Your Reverence, it is decided. Anuril remains here."
As a contrast to the mounting rage before her, the Reverend Mother remains a pool of absolute calm. "Your Majesty," she says finally, eyes lowering to look at Anuril "your wishes run contrary to a contract between the Corrino House, seat of the Imperium, and the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood." The blue eyes rise again, the mind behind them silently wondering if the Empress will challenge even this.
No, she hasn't forgotten. Tat'iana nods, but only marginally, "You failed to provide the Concubine within the expected timeframe, therefore your contract is null and void. Inserting a Concubine when I am incapacitated as I was at the time is entirely inappropriate, Your Reverence, and I thought the Sisterhood to have quite a bit more tact than that. Not to mention, her wholly inappropriate mode of dress, and whorish flirting with every male within this Palace also stands to raise doubts in my mind. No, Your Reverence, your contract means nothing to me at this point."
The inward sigh that ripples through Ysanne's body makes no outward manifestation. Her face is impassive, her voice still level. "The Lady Amenlee was approved by His Majesty. The timeframe in which the Lady arrived was bounded by the time that the Reverend Mother Igraine Joachim-Ordos required to find a Sister suitable to act as a companion to Your Majesty." Her eyes search your features for some glimmer of understanding at the mention of the Reverend Mother Igraine. "No impropriety was meant."
This hardly sways her, if anything, Tat'iana's expression hardens more. "Perhaps the Reverend Mother should have searched faster. Lady Amenlee arrived too late. The damage was already done by then and my son dead. If there is nothing further, Your Reverence, I believe this discussion is at a close."
Rising from her seated position, the Reverend Mother inclines her head in recognition and respect. If she feels defeated, it does not show. Like everything else about the Reverend Mother, her sentiments and thoughts are kept hidden behind a mask of blank calm. "I thank Your Majesty for this audience," she intones formally. She takes a few steps back, then turns and re-opens the doors to the salon, exiting into the hallway without a sound.