rassafraggin | Wrapping and Rolling

It's not so lively in the palace anymore, if one doesn't count the petty arguments among courtiers over borrowed travel cloaks or the parade line of undersea sledges in the courtyard as they are hitched to teams of turtles or large exotic sea horses. The festivities are going on a road trip, it appears, though at the moment, Moire is still found within the palace. The aide attending Deirdre's arrival leads her to the great hall, which seems almost cavernous without the sparkle of crystal lights to define its dimensions. The queen is there, not seated but partaking in what's likely informal discussion with a fine Rebman subject, Murdoch, and the head of her royal guard.

Murdoch is decked out in his stark physician's attire. His head is tilted forward as he listens, and when he answers back it is with small gestures with an upraised hand to help illustrate a point. "...are also great prospects. I have considerable faith in them. I never thought they'd have such a strong affinity to integrate."

Dressed for Rebma, Deirdre moves as one comfortable enough below the waves. She nods to the aide as she's led to the hall, and takes a moment to consider both the room and those within in the way of a habit. She's certainly not hard to spot here, among all the Rebmans, and once her study is done she moves to where she can politely await the Queen's attention.

Captain Almaede grumbles, "I still would think this calls for Lord Murdoch's presence for at the very least, the first handful of stops."

Moire murmurs, "That shall take the Beastmaster two weeks away from his duties in the Deep, during a most significant period of rejeuvenation in the realm's cycle of prey and predation. We shall accept the new creatures and you shall select from your personnel a number of handlers, Captain." She watches him grimace and bow, then turns languidly to acknowledge the page swimming up to declare Deirdre's arrival.

"Begging Your Divine Majesty's pardon, the esteemed ambassador, Her Highness Princess Deirdre seeks audience before your departure!" he wordy-words importantly!

Moire's smile is light but effective on the young Rebman's spirits, as she nods to dismiss him and lifts a hand in a slight gesture to Deirdre, inviting her over. "Lord Murdoch of the Badlands, commissioned Beastmaster of the Deep," she offers the introduction as necessary.

Murdoch inclines his head towards Moire, looking grateful that she has voiced such. When the page approaches and introductions are provided, he is most definitely into etiquette mode and best behavior. He offers the Princess a bow of his head to acknowledge the Ambassador. "Your highness."

When gestured towards Moire, Deirdre pushes herself in their direction to stop at an appropriate distance. There is a bow towards the Queen of course, and respectful nods of greeting towards the others. "Your Majesty. Lord Murdoch." she says, her study now on the man for a moment. "An interesting position, certainly." she says to him before her gaze returns to Moire. "Your Majesty, thank you for speaking with me. There's been some useful movement on the matter we've discussed." Apparently, she's pretty sure the Queen knows which. And, apparently Deirdre's been working on her ability to speak 'vague'.

Captain Almaede didn't linger after acknowledging his ruler's wishes, though he bows his head smartly to the diplomat on his way to the landing, where he intercepts the same page and sends the boy on a fetch errand.

Moire observes the exchange between the VIP and her gallant creature wrangler, with inscrutably casual glances. Regarding Deirdre as the subject matter of her audience request is outlined in a hint, the queen does not react outwardly except to say, "Useful is a condition which is best applied in retrospect, Princess Ambassador. That shall be all we required of you this day, Lord Murdoch. Fair Tides unto you. We shall call on you at the Kelpies' corral."

Murdoch reads into unspecific matter as being one of a more private discussion. And he takes his dismissal as further proof. His expression betrays some curiosity but he's not going to try and linger. "Thank you, your majesty. We'll look forward to your arrival at the corral." He offers a conservative bow to the Queen and makes his way out with less expedience than Captain Almaede. Another nod to Deirdre as he departs, "Your grace."

Deirdre accepts Moire's comment about 'useful' quietly, with a slight nod. As Murdoch is dismissed, she replies to him with "Beastmaster." Then, all her attention is back on Moire. Her voice is quiet enough to exclude others as she says "He is willing to meet with you here before whatever must happen, with a suitable chaperone."

Moire takes a few moments to listen to and replay that single sentence, mining it for nuance no doubt. She does respond shortly, however, with a faint headshake that ripples through her bejeweled mane. "He shall not set foot here except under guard and with measures in place to ward his reception of trumps. A neutral zone promising suitable protections must be agreed by both sides, for an encounter." The coral throne is nearby, and she gives it a brief glance, as though maybe there's an urge to sit. "What is hoped for by such a meeting. What assurances must be made, which enabled you to convince your brother to agree."

Deirdre seems to be short on nuance. That one effort she made to be vague in front of Murdoch might have represented all her available ability to be subtle on the subject. "What I hope for is semi-private communication between you and him ahead of hopefully his formal and very public surrender." she says, still very quietly. "Ideally, including both Martin and Vialle. My brother is known for his ability to lie, but if anyone can sense truth in his words, it's you and Vialle. In private, there's a chance to see him while he's vulnerable, and I think that is important."

"It is," allows Moire in a soft, thoughtful tone. "And have you developed your own relationship with your sibling to the point where you might claim sympathy with his moods, Princess? My observation is that one either learns to doubt the other utterly in all things, or decides on a policy of faith in order to have any allies at all in the family."

There's some thought given to Moire's question. "Sympathy..." Deirdre echoes with slightly pursed lips as though trying to apply the meaning of the word to her own life. "We're not a particularly sympathetic family Your Majesty, though it's possible Gerard and I are as close as we get. Where our siblings are concerned, anyway. But, I don't let it get in the way. Caine has to deal with this. No one can do it for him. But, I can hopefully help that happen the best way possible."

Moire doesn't indicate one way or the other if she found that answer helpful, though she agrees, "Gerard remains this realm's sole champion from above the waves, with the passing of Prince Benedict." She falls silent to consider the rest, then says quietly, "Martin has great faith in these, and in many of his kin above, yourself among them. Caine among them, too, I shouldn't wonder," she adds, very coolly. "For what reason would the Crown Prince be an ideal participant for this?"

"Martin is trusted, by both sides of his family." Deirdre replies. "As trusted as our family gets, anyway. We need someone there to help ensure your safety, as you have an understandable concern being in Caine's company. He and I would stand between you, should it be needed." She doesn't give the impression she thinks that will be needed, though. "Benedict and I have both been a part of his martial training." She adds to that with "He also... doesn't count as a man the same way as my brothers do. His presence won't cause Caine to seize up defensively in a way that would be unhelpful."

Deirdre pauses, then adds "That sounds a lot less kind to Martin than I meant. My brothers can't help the dick waving around each other. I don't think Martin would trip that instinct the way his uncles would."

A new light colours the placid greens of Moire's eyes as Deirdre explains her views on Martin. She listens all the way through, in a manner one might swear was exactly that of a doting grandmother listening slyly in on her favourite subject matter whilst trying to keep up her facade of being extremely hard of hearing. "Perhaps not," she says finally. "Martin shall attend, but shall not interfere except in the described capacity as guardian. Please allow him the chance to fulfill this duty alone, Princess. As his former trainer, you may consider this another proving, as every opportunity for a prince to defend his realm is a test."

The request earns a nod from Deirdre. "Absolutely, your Majesty." she agrees. "We will do this at your convenience, of course. My brother can be trumped in to keep the matter private, and then can leave the same way. Your promise of safe passage would be accepted by him, as you are a woman of honor."

Moire says, "That promise is made. Prince Caine shall come to no harm he does not first seek to bring upon himself. The answers I shall seek should not surprise him overly." Not overly. "We shall notify you of the location when you are prepared to journey there by Martin's card for you, and bring him promptly thereafter."

"Thank you." Deirdre replies, her expression and tone sincere. "I'll let him know to be ready, and give you my word that there will be no attempt on my part to shield him from any part of this conversation. I do feel for what he is going through, but this is far more important than any sentiment."

"That remains to be reflected upon," says Moire, "after it is done. Only then would you know its value for certain. That is the way of truth in Rebma." She tilts her head with a glimmer of interest showing as she asks, "As a child of Queen Faiella, do you find yourself dwelling in the future of any given situation?"

The question causes more thought, and the subject seems an interesting one to Deirdre. "Through my mother's line, I often see possible futures. Through my father's line, I study the present to try to anticipate a few moves into the future. I find the bloodlines complementary in that way. There's a fine line between dwelling and preparing, I think."

Moire attends this exploration of Deirdre's mental process with patience, then nods as she adds to the summation, "And of committing to the projected course. Should you then learn to gaze upon the results of your plans, until reflection is one and the same as anticipation, you will become formidable." At this point, the relative seclusion of the empty throne room seems no longer as private, as a single glance of the queen's to the outer landing seems to outline the figure of a royal guard on sentry there.

Moire's understanding of the potential of a process supported by her bloodlines causes a slight smile from Deirdre. "Yes, your Majesty." she replies, then her attention shifts to reflect their less than private state. "Thank you again for indulging us with this meeting."