• PM To Join • [Venora]The Sweet Scents Of Home

[Darcyanna Venora]

8th Zi’da, 717, Morning

Whats a thread without a theme?

The rolling countryside of Venora was beautiful from afar in the opening sonnets of Zi’da, laced gently with dustings of snow and frost, everything still and far to cold for much of anything except warm cosy fires and hot beverages. When one looked closer, they would start to see the cracks in the wintery facadé, streets wet and muddy with the melting flakes. Cold common folk huddled in dull colored knits as they worked their businesses, farming and gardening and such. Rather than warm fires they huddled around smoking tobacco and drinking lukewarm coffee, hacking up lungs in between breaks.

Darcyanna felt much like the countryside was a reflection of her own persona, pretty from afar, cracked and broken up close. She curled in the small carriage, a rented vehicle, that took her further from Rynmere University and towards the almost unfamiliar gardens of her home. The nobleborn had stayed in the University whilst Caius...well Caius has just feking dissapeared. No note or word of warning, he was just gone. Darcy could only assume it was for urgent personal matters, taking it up on herself to tend to Smudge whilst considering the ten trials past. Stupidly, she’d told him about Pythera’s teachings, and since then the sheer blinding terror of the woman finding out had clawed at her from the inside out. The musician hadn’t coped, not by herself, not with that awful event pulled kicking and screaming to the surface. Had Caius seen the error of his ways associating with her? Had the violent recap of her sisters outburst scared him away?

Fates, what had she done?

The nights got worse. With no one to stop her, and too frightened to leave her room after dark now the crumbling Venora succumbed to the sickly sweet, mind numbing relief her medications provided. Her days were falling apart to, missing classes and forgetting to eat. Dark hollow circles marred her tired face, and what little weight she had on her bones was reduced significantly. Sitting in the window of her second story room, high as a kite, the broken creature wondered vaguely how much less it would hurt to plummet to her death than to let Pythera get hold of her.

Fates, she needed help. She needed someone.

Caius was not yet back from his trip, and worrry gnawed at the blonde. He wouldn’t just leave Smudge. Either he had been taken, or it had been really sarding important, but Darcy had to go. She couldn’t wait anymore. Oliver’s reply to her letters had sparked an aching and undeniable need to see her brother again, face to face. Ensuring Smudge had food and water, as well as asking the head of the facalty to check on him every day, the pale blonde had left in the next carriage she could get. Hopefully when Caius returned...if he returned...he would understand. She at least, had left a note.

Caius,

Sorry to leave, I needed you and you weren’t. I need help. I’m fine.

I will be back by the 10th of Zi’da at the latest.

Yours,
Darcyanna.

And so here she was, three trials later, rounding the last turn in the road that gave her a stunning view of Venora with its fields and vineyards, and quite boldly, Bellesoir. Of course the pinnacle of the barony, Notrerevé, sitting prettily like a beacon in the icy countryside.

Nope.

She couldn’t do this.

Not yet. Not in this state. Oliver would never let her leave if he saw her a dishevelled wreck.

“Driver. Take me into the town.” She called out, anxiety gripping her chest like some cruel beast. Taking deep slow breaths, Darcy fought the twisting in her gut, watching the house disappear on the horizon as they turned and moved into the city instead. Breathing a little easier, the pale woman climbed out and pressed a few gold nel into the drivers hand.

“Wait for me, I shall be returning to Rynmere University again shortly.” Pulling her cloak closer around her blue corseted dress and hood up, the short nobleborn made her way through the quaint township. Bellesoir, home away from home. Her black boots clicked gently on the cobbled street as she moved distractedly through the district, destination unknown and thoughts so very far away.

A lilting scent rich with floral undertones caught her nose, wafting on the gentle winter breeze. The musician smiled a little following her nose towards the smell, slowing to pull down her hood as she looked in the shop window of a deceptively plain looking perfumery, white blonde locks falling loosely around her shoulders. The best in Bellesoir, that’s what Oliver had once said. He always smelt nice. The memory brought the sting of hot tears to her eyes, angry at herself for wasting trials travelling for nothing.

Fates, what was she doing?

[Charlie Warrick]

"Just wait," Charlie bit out again, trying her best to keep her cool. The other sergeant hovered beside her, leaning over her shoulder to look at the goods she was inspecting, making sure they were in the best shape possible. "That one, there," said Henry, pointing over her shoulder to a box in the corner. "It's a little bent, maybe make sure--"

Charlie finally lost her cool. She whirled around, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Look, Henry, if you think you're going to do such a better job than I will, you do it. Men are better at these things, after all!" Without even waiting for a reply, Charlie spun on her heel and rushed through the warehouse, determined to get away from insufferable colleagues and their masculine interference.

As she walked through the streets of Notrerevé, she felt something akin to regret come over her. She had lost her temper, and she was beginning to wish she hadn't. Surely when they returned to Warrick, there would be words waiting for her, but there was only so many times she could handle Henry over her shoulder, telling her she did something wrong, or how to fix something that wasn't even broken. And they were at the same station. Anger simmered in her as she strode through the cobblestone streets, her fists clenched at her sides.

Why did everyone assume she would not be good at this? Was it her noble birth, or her womanhood? The thing was she knew she had trained harder than any of them, was more determined than any of them, and the only time she brought up her family name was when someone else mentioned it first. No, she had gotten to sergeant on talent alone, and as she wandered angrily through the streets of Notrerevé, she committed herself again to what she had told herself she could do. She would do it.

And with that affirmation, her anger dissipated. Why should she respond angrily to what others thought of her? What bearing did that have on who she was? None, she reminded herself grimly, setting her shoulders back. Charlie Warrick was a woman unto herself. She knew this. And that simple moment of self-affirmation raised her spirits considerably.

Not watching where she was going, the scent reached her before she saw it. A burning fire. A memory rose within her as she stared at the opulent perfumery before her, but she couldn't place it, though it smelt delicious. Her footsteps dragged as she stared at the bottles and petals in the window, but what grabbed her attention even more was the woman staring longingly inside.

Short, the blonde woman hunched in on herself, as if she could shield herself against other eyes. The coat she wore, too, dwarfed her light frame. But what caught Charlie's attention the most was the red rimmed eyes and the tight movement of her chest. Something in Charlie melted seeing this. For all her frustration, here was a woman in pain. Slowly, as if approaching a mare, hand stretched out and head cocked, Charlie approached the woman.

"Excuse me, miss," Charlie asked, approaching gently. What a pair they made. The woman dressed elegantly and dwarfed in a cloak, Charlie in her leather armour, but her expression kind and welcoming. "Are you alright? May I assist you anywhere? I am Charlie Warrick, Sergeant," she added as an afterthought, not wanting to scare the woman off with an introduction from a stranger.

[Darcyanna Venora]

8th Zi’da, 717

A soft voice broke through her bitter thoughts, concerned in its tone. Darcy looked away with a soft curse, knuckling the corner of her eyes and taking a deep breath before turning her gaze back to the stranger beside her, the dull indigo’s of her current somber mood taking in the woman’s state of dress.

No nonsense leathers, official in stature, the pretty brunette was clearly of the military or law of some sort. She carried it well, graceful yet bold.

That dress code had been something her sister upheld over the beautiful silk gowns of Venora seamstresses.

“My sincerest apologies. You are too kind, but do not fear, I am alright. Just a silly girl getting weepy over silly things. It is nothing.” Smiling though her heart felt heavy, the blonde nodded her head a little.

“Good trial to you Sergeant Warrick. Darcyanna Venora.” Looking back in the shop window, the young pianist gestured at the beautiful bottles sitting on their display shelves.

“Isn’t it peculiar that something as simple as a scent on the breeze can bring back so many memories.” Her smile faded slowly, before Darcy narrowed her eyes. Turning back to the taller woman, she pointed a finger.

“Charlie Warrick?” It was an odd statement perhaps, but the girl could feel something nagging at her. An almost forgotten time when things were easier, when children concerned themselves with nothing but their own little worlds and not the wider politics of Andaris.

“As in the Charlie Warrick?”

[Charlie Warrick]

Something in Charlie twisted as she watched the younger woman press a hand to the corner of her eye, as if she could stop the stem of tears with only a touch. "Nonsense," Charlie said softly, smiling. "There is nothing silly about letting yourself feel. If you do not, that is how we lose touch with who we are." Underneath the smile, Charlie couldn't help but curse at herself a little. The adage seemed trite, ridiculous, and who was she to presume that she could comfort this woman she did not even know? The woman had not asked for her interference, and the last thing she wanted to do was make it any worse.

The woman introduced herself, and Charlie's eyes widened. She knew exactly who she was. The scar that crossed from her collarbone to her right breast seemed to tingle in memory of the slash that had brought Charlie to her knees and allowed Pythera to escape. Darcyanna Venora was her sister. Charlie's eyes briefly closed in grief, but quickly she opened them again, arranging her expression into a weak smile, though perhaps it was easier to see through than before.

"My Lady Venora," Charlie smiled, bowing slightly in deference. She was about to respond to her whimsical statement, but suddenly Darcyanna turned, pointing at her with narrowed eyes. Fear jumped into her heart. She knew, didn't she? That she had allowed her sister to escape, to continue to rein terror upon them? Steeling herself, Charlie nodded mechanically, forcing a neutral expression.

"Yes, my Lady," she murmured. "I do not know what you mean by the Charlie Warrick, but yes, I am she." Charlie sighed, her shoulders sagging, raising a hand to run through her already wild bob of hair. What should she do now? Apologise, beg forgiveness? But perhaps that was not why Darcyanna knew her... "May I ask how you know my name, my Lady?"

In the silence that followed, Charlie couldn't help but pray to the Seven that she had not brought back tortured memories to a woman who was already obviously struggling.

[Darcyanna Venora]

8th Zi’da, 717

Darcyanna withdrew her pointer with a much wider, much more welcoming smile when the taller woman confirmed her suspicions. She knew the brunette’s name had sounded familiar, By the Seven of all the people.

“I don’t know if you’d remember, it was a dreadfully long time ago, but we visited Fort Warrick. Myself and my brother Oliver, along with our parents. I recall being particularly taken with the fountain in House Warrick’s courtyard, such a beautiful estate.” Darcy chuckled and shrugged.

“I was only ten arcs or so, and I think perhaps we didn’t necessarily meet as such. But I do remember Oli telling me about you.” The blonde’s smile faltered a little as she mentioned the older Venora, finding it mildly ironic that she’d travelled three trials to talk to him, only to chicken out at the moment of arrival.

Darcy hadn’t missed Charlie’s moment of pain, brief as it was the musician knew that face. Knew that struggle to catch oneself in a moment of weakness.

“Quite the contrary Sergeant Warrick. Sometimes it’s entirely better not to feel.” She said softly, before gesturing to the quaint street before them.

“Would you care to walk with me Sergeant? I’ve spent three trials in a carriage and to be completely honest I have no desire to get back in just yet.” If Charlie would join her, the young Venora would stroll at a sedate pace, allowing her rich indigo gaze to sweep the establishments with a fond sense of familiarity. Whilst she enjoyed the freedom that living away from home provided, there was no place that could compare to the sweeping farmscape of Bellesoir.

“And please, call me Darcy. There is no need for airs and graces between our houses.” Taking a deep breath, the pianist offered another smile, shoving her somber mood deep down for the sake of the family name. What would the people say if they saw their Ladyship skulking around the town.

“So, Sergeant then?! That’s an intriguing line of work. Is it something you’ve pursued for a while?”

[Charlie Warrick]

Charlie felt her shoulders lose their tension, and the smile that had previously adorned her face came back easily. So Darcyanna did not know who she was. Or rather, she did, but it had nothing to do with her inability to bring Pythera Venora behind bars. Charlie took a shaking breath, recentered herself, and looked again to the young Venora.

"Oh, yes," Charlie said, and she noticed her voice already seemed much more at ease than it had moments beforehand. "I remember Oliver, your brother. I think I said something to him about never wanting to be a queen and kicking him out of my garden," she laughed, shaking her head. "I do not remember you, though. Perhaps you met my little sister, Violet, instead? I spent as much of my time away from the house in those days. I definitely preferred to be outside." A fond memory came to Charlie's mind, of grass stains and bright smiles. It was a simpler time.

Darcyanna's words took her by surprise, and her heart twisted in response to the other woman's words. Charlie swallowed, at a loss of what to say. Clearly Darcyanna was grieving. A closer look at the woman revealed dark circles under her eyes, and the woman was alarmingly thin. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing - she did not want to scare the Venoran lady off.

"Certainly, my Lady," Charlie said in a soft voice, gesturing ahead of them. "Lead the way. It will be good to be given a tour by one who knows these streets intimately." Charlie smiled. "Darcy it is. It's lovely to meet you, Darcy. May I ask where you've come from, and why you must return to the carriage so soon?"

Charlie was caught by surprise by the question, and she looked quickly over at the other woman. But there was no hint that Darcyanna knew about Charlie's past experiences in the Skyrider ranks, and so she decided the question was largely an innocent one. "Well, I've been training for a long time, but I only joined the Skyriders in my twentieth arc. I'm twenty six now," she explained, shrugging. "Most join earlier, but I'm sure you understand - we had other responsibilities to attend to." Once, Charlie would have referred to this with bitterness, but she had grown at ease with her noble responsibilities.

"And yourself?" Charlie asked smiling as they rounded a corner. The Zi'da air was lovely; cool and fresh, and Notreveré felt homely and calming. "What do you do? And do you recommend anywhere here for a drink, or dinner?" Charlie was hoping Darcy would understand the subliminal invitation.

[Darcyanna Venora]

8th Zi’da, 717

The blonde Venora chuckled, nodding her head and sighing with fond nostalgia.

“That sounds about right. Oli is very good at those sorts of discussions, politics and royalty and such, but he’s dreadful at just...shooting the breeze with others. I admire him in that, how he can command a room with just the strength of his presence and voice.” The memories tugged at her heart strings again. It had been far too long since she’d seen her brother. Far too hard. If anyone asked who had hurt her those arcs ago, she spoke naught a word. If Oliver had asked, she would have spilt it all, and so in thinking selfishly in her fear and teenage panic Darcy had stopped visiting Venora. The drugs didn’t just mask her fear of the wild eyed Pythera, they numbed her profound self-inflicted absence from Oli, her protector and brother. Best friend and confidant.

Every arc was just another painful nail in her sisters handmade coffin.

“I may have run into Violet. I remember some other children there. Mostly I remember getting in trouble because I wouldn’t leave the fountain alone and my dress got wet.” Pulling her hood closer, the tired musician followed her feet, leading somewhere and nowhere all at once. It felt good to move.

“Rynmere University actually. I stay on the campus whilst completing my Degree in Music. I’ve nearly got my Letter actually. I came to...I was going to visit my brother but...it’s not a good time. It was a spur of the moment decision. My friend has been absent from school and I needed...let’s just say I’m going through a rough patch.” She stumbled through the words, feeling altogether too familiar with the Warrick though they had just met, childhood memories and vague connections making the student feel as though she was meeting with an old friend.

“I can’t go to see him like this though, it was a silly waste of time. Oliver would just worry and I don’t want that. So I’ll take a few home delights with me and head back by this evening.” Passing by a local florist, Darcy looked down a beautiful arrangement of flowers, the same Caius had given her in the carriage.

The words that spilled from Charlie’s lips caught the slip of a woman off guard, and she felt her chest constrict. The Skyriders?

Fates...she couldn’t breathe. Panic gripped her by the throat, and for a moment she stopped, trying to calm herself. Wildly her brain calculated the timeframes. Charlie would have been in the Riders at the same time as Pythera. Did she participate in the chase, to capture her sadistic traitorous sister? Even if she had, Darcy couldn’t bear to even ask. She couldn’t bring that conversation up. It risked too much of her sanity right now.

“I uh...musician. I play the piano in the estates around the University.” She couldn’t think, not just yet. Taking a deep breath, trying to drag air through the clawing anxiety that burned in her, Darcy turned and put a hand on the Sergeants arm.

“Actually, I do. And I am not really a drinker but I could really use one at the moment. Join me, please?” The blonde just needed to sit down for a moment, her nerves frayed and on edge. Looking up, she gestured at a quiet little nook on the corner that allowed a sweeping view of the flower fields.

“There. The Gilded Lily. We could have a glass of wine or a cider. Something. Anything? My buy Charlie.” Her indigo eyes all but pleaded with the brunette, desperate to take a moment of reprieve.

[Charlie Warrick]

"Music?" Charlie asked in surprise, looking at Darcyanna. Of course most noble women had some training in music during their time as adolescents, but Charlie's own lessons had ended soon after her parents discovered there was not a lick of musical talent in her body. Looking at Darcy, though, even though she looked exhausted, there was a whimsical air about the woman which made it believable. "What do you play? Or do you sing? I admit I have no talent myself, but I wish I did." Charlie gave the woman an encouraging smile. She desperately wanted to put this poor girl at ease.

There. Charlie knew there was something wrong, and it seemed like Darcy was trying to avoid the topic desperately, skirting around it like she was avoiding ice on the road. Charlie's lips twisted, but she said nothing. Not yet. Walking through the streets was not the place for such a conversation. "It's a long way for a short trip," was all she said, smiling gently at Darcyanna, but she put a flag in the conversation. It would be better to discuss it over dinner.

Charlie saw how Darcyanna reacted to the news of her profession, and her heart sunk. Maybe Darcy didn't know that Charlie was involved in Pythera's failed arrest, but she definitely understood the connection. The one that let her sister get away... Her smile grew more brittle, and she took a deep breath, before placing her hand over the other woman's and squeezing lightly. "That sounds like a perfect idea, Darcy. Let's do it."

Charlie steeled herself, and then led Darcy into the Gilded Lily. Inside, it was small and cozy, a well-kept mahogany bar with small tables around the room and flickering candlelight adorning the walls. It was more of the sort of place for a first date, but it was better than nothing. Looking at Darcy, she gestured towards a table, and sat down, waiting for Darcy to join her.

A waiter came over, thin and gangly, and Charlie smiled tersely at him. "I'll have an amber ale, please, if you have one. Darcy? Should we have food too?" Making a split second decision, she turned back to the waiter. "Perhaps some bread and cheese, some cured meats, if you have them. Thank you." Charlie waited until the waiter took their order and disappeared, before turning back to Darcy.

How to say this? How to speak truthfully without harming the fragile girl further? Honesty, Charlie, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. It was always the best polic. "Darcy," she began, speaking slowly. "I can't help but notice you seem a little... frayed. Is something wrong?" She swallowed, looking at the girl earnestly. "I know you just met me, and I hope I don't seem impertinent, but you can trust me, should you need a friendly ear. I'm here to help. Whatever you need." Charlie couldn't say why she wanted to help Darcyanna so, but all she knew was she couldn't bear to walk away and leave this broken girl on her own.

[Darcyanna Venora]

8th Zi’da, 717

Thanks the Fates or the Seven, or even those Immortals she’d heard of, Charlie agreed with a sympathetic look and a gentle hand. Darcy allowed herself to be led, ashamed of how easily a simple conversation brought up violent memories. Pythera was everywhere, even when she wasn’t.

Sarding everywhere.

As they entered the bar, the Venora followed the other woman’s lead, slipping into one of the quiet tables facing away from the entrance of the venue. It was small, cosy and warm. The sort of ambient atmosphere that one might take a partner to rather than a familiar stranger, and yet Darcyanna felt grateful for it. As the Sergeant took their order, the blonde began to protest she wasn’t hungry, but pressed her lips together as Charlie ordered anyway. It had been...Fates when had she last eaten? The weary musician couldn’t even remember.

“A rosé moscato for myself please. Locally sourced.” Once the gangly waiter left, Darcy reached up to draw her hood down with a sigh. It was a welcome relief to get out from under it’s black felt cover, looking at Charlie with a weak smile. How unbeffitting of the title of Lady she must look right now.

...you seem a little frayed. Is something wrong?

It was a simple question, open and honest, and usually Darcy could cope. Could deflect with a raised eyebrow or an off handed chuckle. Maybe it was Charlie’s association with her childhood, maybe it was her kindness or just that the pale skinned noble was so much of a sarding mess. Whatever it was that set her off, the younger Venora took a shuddering breath as she brought her elbows to rest on the table and her hands to her brow, hiding her face with a soft sob.

“Feks sake. No, but I can’t...” She sniffed, looking away and wiping her eyes carefully to avoid her make up.

“I am so far beyond not okay that I don’t know how to find my way back. I thought that I’d found someone in my missing friend, someone to just I don’t know help me stay together...but...I don’t think he can. He’s gone, just up and disappeared and Charlie I can’t shake the feeling it’s because of me. Because I am such a sarding mess he had to get out before I dragged him too far in.” Laughing at her ridiculous state, the platinum blonde shook her head, crossing her arms and staring at the table before them.

“I can’t believe I am doing this. What’s wrong with me?” Wiping her face again, Darcy looked up at the older woman as though she could answer the question she had no context for. Sighing, the pianist leaned back in her chair.

“It’s nice to just talk to someone else. Sometimes I go insane in my own head.” She smiled warmly, feeling comfortable with the Warrick.

“Oliver was always my someone else, and I came to Venora thinking maybe he should be again but...there’s so much I can’t tell him. It would just cause problems that are bigger and far more frightening than I can cope with. So I will just...do what I always do.” It was said almost in a tone of defeat, as though the blonde Venora knew she was trapped by the walls Pythera had built around her.

Caius was right, even now the beast was killing her.

[Charlie Warrick]

Charlie smiled encouragingly at Darcy as she drew down the hood for the first time. The woman was beautiful, fair and with exquisite features, but they were overshadowed by the sheer exhaustion on her face. Black circles under her eyes, and her cheekbones stood out a little too sharply. Suddenly, Charlie was glad she had decided to order food for the two; clearly, it had been too long since Darcy had eaten.

Her heart twisted at the sob that emerged from Darcy's lips. She hadn't meant to make the woman cry, just to offer an ear, but maybe this was what Darcy needed - to cry in front of someone who wouldn't judge her. Charlie reached out across the table, sliding her hand towards Darcy should she need to hold on to something, reassure her. "Hey, Darcy, it's okay," Charlie said softly, smiling gently at Darcy. "It's okay. You're okay." But she didn't say anything else, just sat there and listened thoughtfully, never once interrupting the girl as words that she had probably bottled up for arcs came spilling out of her.

Charlie's heart sunk as the words kept coming. Darcyanna Venora was a mess, and Charlie didn't know how to fix it. Something told her that it was more than just her missing sister, but she didn't know what. And Darcy never mentioned Pythera, but she did mention a missing friend. Charlie could guess what that meant - somehow she doubted that a friend was all this mystery man was. And she was so despondent, it seemed like there was no hope left in the woman at all.

Right after Darcy had finished speaking, the waiter returned, looking curiously at the tears running down Darcy's face. Charlie shot him her best Sergeant glare, one she reserved for errant Airman, and the waiter flushed. "Your drinks and food," he said, placing them in front of the girls. Hurriedly, he left, clearly sensing that now was not the time to interrupt. Charlie took a long draught of her beer, carefully weighing her words. The last thing she wanted to do was say the wrong thing and hurt Darcy even further.

"Firstly," Charlie said slowly, looking at Darcy intently. "If your friend left because he couldn't handle you, he does not deserve you. Everyone has their own aches, their own pains, and if he could not understand yours, it means he was not a good friend to begin with. But I'm sure there's an explanation to why he left, a logical one." Charlie gestured towards the meat and cheese. "Eat. You look like you need it."

Charlie waited until Darcy had at least began to nibble on something, before she continued. "Nothing is wrong with you. As I said, everyone has their own demons in the past." A flash of Jonathon's face, a death she had never dealt with, went through her mind, but Charlie focused again on the woman before her. "As to your brother, it's okay if you're not ready to talk. Sometimes it takes a while to find ... the right words. Even though I only met your brother the once, I remember how fondly he talked about you. In fact, he said you were the only one who called him Oli, and said he'd have to ask you if I could do the same." A fond smile graced her lips at the memory. "I doubt his love for you had wavered, but there is no reason to pressure yourself, either. When you are ready, I know he will listen, and I know he will care."

Charlie took another deep drink of her beer, the amber ale quenching her thirst and her nerves. "Darcy," she said, softly. "You do not have to if you feel that you can't, but if you want to talk through whatever is bothering you, I'm here to listen. Otherwise, we can always drink and eat and have a lovely time getting to know one another. Alright?" She smiled, and reached for some bread, placing the cured meat and cheese on it, smiling as she took a bite. She hoped that she had said the right words. Words that would help and not harm.