Frustrations
Jun 29, 2013 11:08:21 GMT -5
Post by Lord Daven St. Claire on Jun 29, 2013 11:08:21 GMT -5
Many would agree that things had changed when it came to Daven St. Claire. Most notably, he was not nearly as irascible as he had been in the past. Regardless of the general opinion on the arrangement, most agreed that Marisa de Vere had something of a soothing effect on Daven. The Dragon of St. Claire would disagree if he paid attention to the thoughts of the Court. He would argue that he still had plenty of his natural flame, it had merely been redirected. His daughters were safe, though he would have to meet with Lord Jasen de Winter soon. There was also something Julia was not quite telling him about the Lintenese man, either. Daven would keep a close eye on that man. The Lintenese were infamous for letting their blood rush to the head and become too hot for their own good.
On that day, he had arranged to meet with Marisa and to plan a trip to the markets along with a luncheon in which she would finally interact with his daughters. Daven wanted them to meet. While the ladies may have had their reservations, Daven was confident that once they met, differences would be worked out. Or so he hoped. In truth, Daven could understand the concerns. Marisa de Vere was a young woman, but she was a woman nonetheless. Marisa possessed a wisdom imbued within that made her more wise than she let on. Daven also believed that she could handle him. The Dragon knew he would need a leash. While Helena was sweet and gentle to the people of the Duchy, she could yank him back to reality with a firm hand when necessary. Marisa, he could tell, had a similar strength.
Daven also knew he would need a politically savvy wife. The waters of the Court were becoming increasingly murky. A sure navigator would be required. The combination of Daven's strength and determination and Marisa's observatory skills and cunning, they could be a true team in the Courts.
For now, though, he was determined to enjoy her company by going for a ride in the countryside. Daven was already in his riding clothes, checking on his massive steed when a servant came up to him with a letter. It bore the seal of de Lac and St. Claire.
Veronica.
A scowl formed as he snatched the latter without thanking the man and opened it to read. There was no opening preamble and she hadn't even addressed him by name at the beginning.
My children are gone from Pescadin Keep. I wish to know where they have gone as it is for their own good. I have a strong suspicion they have left without informing me as their destination in a fit of rebellion, which is no doubt due the blood of our father and your ilk. They're on the verge of going wild and will become an embarrassment to the family name if they are allowed to persist.
Should they come to Triadon, I insist that you turn them right back around and send them home to de Lac. Aristide will simply drown himself in the sea of women at Court, Lisette will be nothing more than a floundering, awkward embarrassment, and I just know someone will take advantage of Laurent's all too pleasant demeanor. Unless, that is, you'd like to try your hand at reining them in and showing them how the world works.
If you have any respect for me whatsoever, you will send them back to me or at least inform me of their arrival.
Veronica de Lac
Dowager Countess of de Lac, Watcher of the Keep and Seas
All Daven could really do was stare at the letter. Suddenly, a growl escaped him and crumpled the letter into a ball, casting it aside. "Damn that woman."
Lady Marisa de Vere
On that day, he had arranged to meet with Marisa and to plan a trip to the markets along with a luncheon in which she would finally interact with his daughters. Daven wanted them to meet. While the ladies may have had their reservations, Daven was confident that once they met, differences would be worked out. Or so he hoped. In truth, Daven could understand the concerns. Marisa de Vere was a young woman, but she was a woman nonetheless. Marisa possessed a wisdom imbued within that made her more wise than she let on. Daven also believed that she could handle him. The Dragon knew he would need a leash. While Helena was sweet and gentle to the people of the Duchy, she could yank him back to reality with a firm hand when necessary. Marisa, he could tell, had a similar strength.
Daven also knew he would need a politically savvy wife. The waters of the Court were becoming increasingly murky. A sure navigator would be required. The combination of Daven's strength and determination and Marisa's observatory skills and cunning, they could be a true team in the Courts.
For now, though, he was determined to enjoy her company by going for a ride in the countryside. Daven was already in his riding clothes, checking on his massive steed when a servant came up to him with a letter. It bore the seal of de Lac and St. Claire.
Veronica.
A scowl formed as he snatched the latter without thanking the man and opened it to read. There was no opening preamble and she hadn't even addressed him by name at the beginning.
My children are gone from Pescadin Keep. I wish to know where they have gone as it is for their own good. I have a strong suspicion they have left without informing me as their destination in a fit of rebellion, which is no doubt due the blood of our father and your ilk. They're on the verge of going wild and will become an embarrassment to the family name if they are allowed to persist.
Should they come to Triadon, I insist that you turn them right back around and send them home to de Lac. Aristide will simply drown himself in the sea of women at Court, Lisette will be nothing more than a floundering, awkward embarrassment, and I just know someone will take advantage of Laurent's all too pleasant demeanor. Unless, that is, you'd like to try your hand at reining them in and showing them how the world works.
If you have any respect for me whatsoever, you will send them back to me or at least inform me of their arrival.
Veronica de Lac
Dowager Countess of de Lac, Watcher of the Keep and Seas
All Daven could really do was stare at the letter. Suddenly, a growl escaped him and crumpled the letter into a ball, casting it aside. "Damn that woman."
Lady Marisa de Vere